PLUTARCH'S Morals Translated from the Greek by several hands Volume ●  
London  
Printed for R. Bently    

Plutarch's MORALS: Translated from the GREEK BY SEVERAL HANDS.  
Volume V.  
LONDON, Printed for T. Sawbridge, M. gillyflower, R. Bently, S. Crouch, A. Churchil, W. Freeman, J. tailor, T. Bennet, R. Parker, and S. Anson. MDCXCI.   

TO THE Right Reverend Father in GOD, EDWARD, Lord Bishop of WORCESTER.  
My Lord,  
THere is not perhaps any one amongst all the Ancient ethnic Philosophers, whose Writings have met with a more general Applause, than those of Plutarch; neither has the Reputation, they have gained, been undeserved, For, whether we consider his Biography, in which the Lives of the Noblest Heroes, both of Greece and Rome are most exactly recorded, and most accurately compared; or, whether we regard those excellent Precepts of Morality and virtue, admirably delivered in his other Treatises; we every where find somewhat so great and inimitable, that it plainly shows him to have wanted nothing, but the Knowledge of a purer Religion, to have rendered him one of the best, as well as the most learned Men of his Age. No wonder therefore, if most Nations have desired to enjoy in their own Language the Works of so celebrated an Author: Wherefore, to gratify those of our Country, who are no less ambitious of that Satisfaction than their Neighbours, several learned and ingenious Gentlemen have employed some part of their Time in clothing him with an English Dress. His Lives were first taken in Hand, the Publication of which in five Volumes having been well accepted, it encouraged the Undertaking of his Morals; the Fifth and last Volume whereof being now completed, I was requested in the Name of all the Gentlemen, concerned in it's Traduction, to lay it at Your Lordships Feet.  
The complying with this Request, my Lord, I must ingeniously confess, I endeavoured with no small Earnestness to avoid, the Consciousness of my Insufficiency, making me tremble at the very Thoughts of appearing before so discerning a Judge; but when I found that no Excuses would be admitted, I, Coward-like, emboldened myself by the Consideration, that you are no less conspicuous for Goodness and Clemency, than for those many other singular Endowments, both natural and acquired, which have deservedly raised your Lordship to so eminent a Dignity in the English Church and Nation.  
Be pleased then, my Lord, favourably to accept this Tribute, paid to Your virtues by the Translators of this Part of our Authors Works, and with your wonted Charity to pardon all such Errors and Imperfections, as Your well known Skill in all sorts of Languages cannot but find in the Version of a Writer, the hight of whose Conceptions, 'tis difficult, not to say impossible, to transfer into another Language, without very much abating their Spirit. The Patronage, You shall vouchsafe to afford these our endeavours, as it will be a more than sufficient Protection against the Cavils and Calumnies of carping and malicious Critics, so will it lay a perpetual Obligation on us to have a constant and grateful Remembrance of so signal a Benefit, in which none shall more faithfully persist, than he, who is, with all imaginable Respect and Submission,  
My Lord, Your Lordships most Dutiful and Obedient Servant, Sam. White.   

The Contents of each Treatise, with the Translator's Names.  

POlitical Precepts,[ or Instructions for the Managing of State Affairs.] By Samuel White, M. D. page. 1  
Whether 'vice is sufficient to render a Man unhappy. By the same Hand. page. 78  
Whether the Passions of the Soul, or[ Diseases] of the Body are worse. By the same Hand. page. 88  
Which are the most crafty, Water Animals, or those that breed upon the Land? By John Phillips, Gent. page. 91  
That Brute Beasts make use of Reason. By Sir A. J. page. 155  
Of the Face, appearing within the Orb of the Moon. By A.G. Gent. page. 171  
Of Eating of Flesh. The First Tract. By William Baxter, Gent. page. 234  
Of Eating of Flesh. The Second Tract. By the same Hand. page. 243  
Of Fate. By A. G. Gent. page. 250  
Plutarch's Natural Questions. By R. Brown, M. L. page. 267  
Concerning the First Principle of could. By F. Fetherston, D.D. page. 283.  
Whether Water or Fire be most useful. By the same Hand page. 306  
Against Colotes, the Disciple and favourite of Epicurus. By A. G. Gent. page. 314  
Plutarch's Consolatory Letter to his Wife. By Robert Midgley, M. D.& Col. Med. land. Cand. page. 365  
Of the three sorts of Government, Monarchy, Democracy, Oligarchy. By R. Smith, M. A. page. 375  
Whether the Athenians were more renowned for their Warlike achievements, or for their Learning. By the same Hand. page. 380  
Against Running in Debt, or taking up Money upon Usury. By the same Hand. page. 394  
Plutarch's platonic Questions. By R. Brown, M.L. page. 408  
Of Moral virtue. By C. H. Esq; page. 432  
Plutarch's Parallels, or a Comparison between the Greek and Roman Histories. By John Oswald M. A. page. 469  
Of the Names of Rivers and Moun●ains, and of such things as are to be found therein. By R. White, M. A page. 495    

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  

Political Precepts,[ or Instructions for the Managing of State Affairs.]  Translated out of the Greek by Sam. White, M. D. 
I. Plutarch, to satisfy Menemachus's Request, who was entering upon public Employs, gives him a considerable Number of Precepts and Advertisements, accompanied with several Examples, to fit him for that Design.  
IF ever, O Menemachus, that[ Saying of Nestors in Homer, 
Iliad. 9. ] 
There is no Greek, can contradict, or mend,  
What you have said; yet to no perfect End  
Is your Speech brought—  Might pertinently be made use of,[ and applied,] 'tis against those exhorting, but nothing teaching, nor any way instructing, Philosophers,[ who sufficiently indeed incite Men to the performance of their Duties, but lay not down any Precepts or Rules, by which they may be guided and directed:] for they do[ in this respect] resemble those, who are indeed careful in snuffing the Lamps, but negligent in supplying them with oil. Seeing therefore that you, being by Reason moved to[ engage yourself in] the Affairs of the State, desire, as becomes the Nobility[ of your Family,] 
Iliad. 9.  Both to speak well, and act heroickly in[ the Service of] your Country; and that, not having[ attained to that Maturity of] Age, to have observed the Life of a[ wise and] philosophical Man, openly spent in the Transactions of the State, and public Debates, and to have been a Spectator of[ worthy] Examples, represented not in Word, but in dead, you request me to lay you down[ some] political Precepts[ and Instructions,] I think it no ways becoming me to give you a Denial, but[ hearty] wish, that the Work may be worthy both of your Zeal, and my Forwardness. Now I have, according to your Request, 
II. First, he requires of him, that will enter upon the Management of State Affairs, that he bring a good Intention, looking at a right end, without Ambition, Envy, jealousy, &c.  made use[ in this my Discourse] of sundry various Examples.  
First then for the Administration of State Affairs, let there be laid, as a firm and solid Foundation, an Intention[ and Purpose,] having for its Principle judgement and Reason, and not any Impulse from Vain-Glory, Emulation, or want of other Employment. For as those, who have nothing grateful to them at Home, frequently spend their time in the Forum[ or Common Hall,] thô they have no occasion that requires it: so some Men, because they have no Business of their own, worth employing themselves in, thrust themselves into public Affairs, 
Several sorts of Persons, who commit great Faults in reference to this first Point.  using Policy as a Divertisement. Many also, having been by chance engaged in the Negotiations of the Commonweal, and being cloyed with them, cannot yet easily quit them: in which they suffer the same with those, who, going on board a Ship, that they may be there a little tossed, and being after carried away into the Deep, sand forth many a long Look towards the Shore, being sea sick and giddy headed, and yet necessitated to stay, and accommodate themselves to their present Fortune.  
Past is the lovely Pleasure,  
They took, when th'sea was calm, and Weather bright,  
In walking at their leisure  
On the Ships Deck,  
Whilst her sharp Beck  
With merry Gale,  
And full-blown Sail,  
Did thrô the surging Billows cut its Course aright.  
And these do most of all discredit the Matter by their Repenting and being discontented, when either hoping for Glory, they fall into Disgrace, or expecting to become formidable to others by their Power, they are engaged in Affairs, full of Dangers and Troubles. But he, who on a well grounded Principle of Reason undertakes to act in the public, as an Employ very honourable, and most beseeming him, is dismayed by none of these things; nor does he[ therefore] change his Opinion. 
Against tho●e who through Av●rice, Ambition, o●●nvy, thrust themselves into the State.  For we must not come to the Management of the Common-weal on a Design of gaining and growing rich by it, as those about Stratocles and Democlides exhorted one another to the Golden Harvest, so in Mirth terming the Tribunal or Place of making Harangues to the People; nor yet as seized with some sudden Fit of Passion, as did heretofore Caius Gracchus, who, having, whilst his Brothers Misfortunes were hot, withdrawn himself to a retired Life, most remote from public Affairs, did afterwards, inflamed by Indignation at the Injuries and Affronts, put on him by some Persons, thrust himself into the State, where being soon filled with Affairs and Glory, when he sought to desist, and desired Change and Repose, he could not( so great was it grown) find how to lay down his Authority, but perished with it. And as for those, who through Emulation and[ Desire of Glory] frame themselves[ for the public,] as Actors for the Stage, they must needs repent[ of their Design, finding themselves under a Necessity of] either serving those, whom they think themselves worthy to govern, or disobliging those, whom they desire to please.  

III. He shows by fit Similitudes, how they ought to be disposed, who enter on the Management of great Affairs: that is, to consider, and thoroughly understand the Disposition of those, they are to govern, that by suiting themselves to it, they may win them by little and little.  Now I am of Opinion, that those, who by chance, and without foresight, stumble upon Policy, falling as it were into a Pit, cannot but be troubled and repent; whereas they, that go leisurely into it, with Preparation and a good Resolution, comport themselves moderately in[ all] Occurrences, as having no other End of their Actions, but[ the discharging of their Duty with] Honor. Now they, that have thus grounded their Choice within themselves, and rendered it immovable, and difficult to be changed, must set themselves to contemplate the Disposition of the Citizens,[ or People they have to govern,] chiefly, as it appears to be most prevalent, being compounded of them all. For the Endeavouring presently to form the Manners, and change the Nature of a People, is neither easy nor safe, but a Work requiring much Time and great Authority. But, as Wine in the Beginning is overcome by the Nature of the Drinker, but afterwards gently warming[ him,] and mixing itself[ in his Veins] assimilates and changes him, who drinks it, into its own Likeness: so must a States-man, till he has by his Reputation and Credit obtained a leading Power[ amongst the People,] accommodate himself to the Dispositions of the Subjects, knowing how to consider and conjecture those things, with which the People are naturally delighted, and by which they are[ usually] drawn. The Athenians, to wit, are easily moved to Anger, 
An Example in the People of Athens.  and not difficultly changed to Mercy; more willing to suspect quickly, than to be informed by leisure; and as they are readier to help mean and inconsiderable Persons, so do they embrace and esteem facetious and merry Speeches; they are exceedingly delighted with those, that praise them, and very little offended with such, as jeer them; they are terrible even to their Governors, and yet courteous to their very Enemies. Far other is the Disposition of the Carthaginians, severe, 
Another Example in the Carthaginians.  rigid, obsequious to their Rulers, harsh to their Subjects, most abject in their Fear, most cruel in their Anger, firm in their Resolutions, untractable and hard to be moved by sportive and pleasant Discourse. Should clear have requested them to defer their Assembly, because he had sacrificed to the Gods, and was to feast certain Strangers, they would not have risen up, laughing and clapping their Hands for Joy; nor, if Alcibiades, as he was making an Harangue to them, had let slip a Quail from under his Cloak, would they have striven, who should catch her, and restore her to him again; but would rather have killed them both on the place, as contemning and deriding them: since they banished Hanno for making use of a lion to carry his Baggage to the Army, accusing him to affect a Tyranny. 
A third Example in the The●ans and lacedæmonians.  Neither do I think, that the Thebans, if they had been made Masters of their Enemies Letters, would have forborn looking into them, as did the Athenians, when having taken the Messengers of Philip, who were carrying a Letter superscrib'd to Olympias, they would not so much as open it, or discover the conjugal Secrets of an absent Husband, written to his Wife. Nor yet do I believe, that the Athenians on the other side would have patiently suffered the Haughtiness and Disdain of Epaminondas, when refusing to answer an Accusation brought against him, he rose up from the Theatre, and went away through the midst of the Assembly to the place of public Exercises. And much less am I of Opinion, that the Spartans would have endured the Contumely and Scurrility of Stratocles, who persuaded the People to offer Sacrifices of Thanksgiving to the Gods, as having obtained the Victory, and afterwards, when, being truly informed of the Loss, they had received, they were angry with him, asked them, what Injury they had sustained, in having through his means spent three Days merrily.  
Courtly Flatterers indeed, 
IV. A good governor ought not to accommodate himself to the Vices of the People, but to manage them discreetly, and withdr●w them by degrees from Evil: and the Means of arriving at such an Happiness.  like to Quail-Catchers, by imitating the Voices, and assimilating themselves to[ the Manners of] Kings, chiefly insinuate into their favours, and entrap them by Deceit; but 'tis not convenient for a States-man to imitate the Peoples Manners, but to know them, and make use of those things towards every Person, by which he is most likely to be taken. For the Ignorance of[ Mens] Humors brings no less Disorders and Obstacles in Common-weals, than in the Friendships of Kings. When therefore you shall have already gotten Power and Authority amongst the People, then must you endeavour to reform their Disposition, treating them gently, and by little and little drawing them to what is better. For the Changing of a Multitude is a difficult and laborious Work. 
1. He must reform himself the first, after the Example of Themistocles, and others.  But as for your own Manners[ and Behaviour,] so compose and adorn them, as knowing, that you are henceforth to led your Life on an open Stage; and if 'tis no easy Task for you wholly to extirpate 'vice out of your Soul, at least take away and retrench those Offences, which are most notorious and apparent. For you[ cannot but] have heard, how Themistocles, when he designed to enter upon the Management of public Affairs, withdrew himself from Drinking and reveling, and that Watching, Fasting, and studying, he said to his intimate Friends, that Miltiades's Trophy suffered him not to sleep. And Pericles also so changed himself, both as to the Comportment of his Body, and his manner of Living, that he walked gravely, discoursed affably, always shew'd a[ stayed and] settled Countenance, continually kept his Hand under his rob, and went only that way, which lead to the pleading Place and Council. For a Multitude is not so tractable, as that it should be easy for every one to take it with Safety; but 'tis a Service, much to be valued, if, being like a suspicious and skittish Beast, it can be so managed, that without being 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}.  frighted either by Sight or Voice, it will submit to receive Instruction. These things therefore are not slightly to be observed; nor are we to neglect taking such Care of our own Life and Manners, that they may be clear from all slain and Reprehension. For States-men are not only liable to give an Account, of what they say or do in public; but there is a busy Enquiry made into their very Meals, Beds, Marriages, and every either sportive or serious Action. For what need we speak of Alcibiades, who, being of all Men the most active in public Affairs, and withal, an invincible Commander, perished by his Irregularity in his Living and Audaciousness, and who by his Luxury, and Prodigality, rendered the State unbenefitted by all his other good Qualities? Since these [ Athenians] blamed Cimons Wine, the Romans, having nothing else to cavil at, found fault with Scipio's Sleeping, and the Enemies of Pompey the Great, having observed, that he scratched his Head with one Finger, upbraided him with it. 
An apt and well chosen Similitude.  For as a Freckle or Wart in the Face is more prejudicial than Stains, Maims, and Scars in the rest of the Body: so little Faults, discerned in the Lives of Princes and States-men, appear great, thrô an Opinion most Men have conceived of Government and Policy,[ which they look on] as a great[ and excellent] thing, and such as ought to be pure from all Absurdity and Imperfection. Therefore not unjustly is 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}.  Livius Drusus commended, who, when several Parts of his House lay open to the View of his Neighbours, being  told by a certain Workman, that he would for the expense only of five Talents, alter and remedy that Fault, said: I will give thee indeed ten, to make my whole House so transparent, that all the City may see, how I live. For he was a temperate and modest Man. And yet perhaps he had no need of this Perspicuity: for many Persons prie into those Manners, Counsels, Actions, and Lives of States-men, which seem to be most deeply concealed, no less loving and admiring one, and hating and despising another for their private, than for their public Transactions. What then? 
An Answer to an Objection against what is required, that a governor should first reform himself. [ perhaps you may say:] Do not Cities make use also of such Men, as live dissolutely and effeminately? True: for as[ we see] Women with Child frequently long for Stones[ and Chalk,] as those, that are Stomach-sick, do for Salt-fish, and such other Meats, which a little after they spit out again and reject: so also the People sometimes thrô Wantonness and Petulancy, and sometimes for want of better Guides, make use of those, that come first to hand,[ thô at the same time] detesting and contemning them, and after rejoice at such things, spoken against them, as the Comedian Plato makes the People themselves to say: 
Quick, take me by the Hand, and hold me fast,  
Or I'll Agyrrius Captain choose in hast.  And again he brings them in, calling for a Basin and Feather, that they may vomit, and saying: Mantile here by my Tribunal stands; And a little after, It feeds a stinking Head, most foul Disease. And the Roman People, when Carbo promised them something, and,[ to confirm it,] added an Oath and Execration, unanimously swore on the contrary, that they would not believe him. And in Lacedaemon, when a certain dissolute Man,[ named] Demosthenes, had delivered a very convenient Opinion, the People rejected it; but the Ephori,[ who approved of his Advice,] having chosen by Lot one of the ancient[ Senators,] commanded him to repeat the same Discourse, pouring it( as it were) out of a filthy Vessel into a clean one, that it might be acceptable to the Multitude: of so great moment either way in political Affairs is the Belief conceived of a Persons [ Disposition and] Manners. 
2 He ought to be knowing and eloquent, that he may persuade and bring the People to Reason.  Yet are we not therefore so to lay the whole[ Stress] on virtue, as[ utterly] to neglect[ all] Gracefulness and Efficacy of Speech, but esteeming rhetoric, though not the Worker, yet a Coadjutor[ and Forwarder] of persuasion, should correct that Saying of Menander, The Speakers Manners, not his Speech, persuade. For both Life and Language[ ought to concur,] unless any one forsooth shall say, that, as it is the Pilot, who steers the Ship, and not the Rudder, and the Rider, that turns the Horse, and not the Bridle: so Political virtue, using not Eloquence, but Manners, as an Helm and Bridle, persuades and guides a City, which is( to speak with Plato) an Animal, most easy to be turned, managing and directing it, as it were from the Poop. For since those great, and as Homer calls them, 
An Example in great Kings.  Jove-begotten Kings, setting themselves out with their Purple, sceptres, Guards, and the very Oracles of the Gods, and subjecting to them by their Majesty the Multitude, as[ if they were of a] better[ Nature, and more excellent Mould than other Men,] desired also to be eloquent Orators, and neglected neither the Gracefulness of Speech, 
Nor public Meetings, that more perfect they  
Might be for Feats of War:—  not only venerating Jupiter the counselor, Mars the Slaughterer, and Pallas the Warrior, but invocating also Calliope, Who still attends on Regal Majesty, by her persuasive Oratory appeasing, and moderating the Fierceness and Violence of the People: How is it possible, that a private Man in a Plebeian Garb, and with a Vulgar mien, undertaking to conduct a City, should ever be able to prevail over, and govern the Multitude, if he is not endowed with alluring and all-perswading Eloquence. The Captains indeed, and Pilots of Ships make use of others to deliver their Commands; but a States-man ought to have in himself not only a Spirit of Government, but also a commanding Faculty of Speech, that he may not stand in need of anothers Voice, nor be constrained to say, as did Iphicrates, when he was run down by the Eloquence of those about Aristophon, My Adversaries have the better Actor, but mine is the more excellent Play, nor yet be often obliged to make use of these Words of Euripides, 
O that the Race of miserable Men  
Were speechless:—  And again, 
Alas! Why have not Mens Affairs a Tongue,  
That those fine Pleaders, who of Right make Wrong,  
Might be no longer in Request?  For to these Evasions perhaps might an Alcamenes, a Nesiotes, an Ictius, and all such Mechanical Persons, as get their Bread by the Labour of their Hands, be permitted to have recourse. As[ it sometime happened] in Athens, where, when two Architects were examined about the erecting a certain public Work, one of them, who was of a free and voluble Speech,[ and had his Tongue( as we say) well hung,] making a[ long and] premeditated Harangue concerning the Method and Order[ of raising such a fabric,] greatly moved the People; but the other, who was indeed the better Workman, thô the worse Speaker, coming forth into the midst, only said: Ye Men of Athens, what this Man has spoken, I will do. For those Men venerate only[ Minerva, surnamed] Ergane,[ or the artisan,] who, as Sophocles says of them, 
Do on the massy Anvil lay  
A lifeless iron Bar, where they  
With Blows of heavy Hammer make  
It pliant to the Work, they undertake.  But the Prophet[ or Minister] of Minerva Polias,[ that is, the Protectress of Cities,] and of Themis,[ or Justice,] the counsellor, 
( Which both convenes Assemblies, and again  
Dissolves them,)—  Making use of no other Instrument, but Speech, does by forming and fashioning some things, and smoothing and polishing others, that, like certain Knots in Timber, or Flaws in Iron, are averse to his Work,[ embellish and] adorn a City. 
Another Example of the Power of Eloquence in Pericles.  By this means the Government of Pericles was in name,( as Thucydides says) a Democracy,[ or popular State,] but in effect, the Rule of one principal Man thrô the Power of his Eloquence. For there was[ living at the same time] Cimon a good Man, as also Ephialtes, and Thucydides: Now he, being asked by Archidamus, whether himself or Pericles were the better Wrestler, thus answered: That is not easily known: for when I in Wrestling overthrow him, he, by his Words persuading the Spectators, that he did not fall, gains the Victory. And this did not only bring Glory to himself, but Safety also to the City: for being persuaded by him, it preserved the Happiness, it had gotten, and abstained from intermeddling with foreign Affairs. But Nicias, thô having the same Design, yet falling short in the Art of persuasion, when he endeavoured by his Speech, as by a gentle kerb, to[ restrain and] turn the People, could not compass it, or prevail with them, but was fain to depart, being violently hurried, and dragged, as it were, by the Neck and Shoulders into Sicily. They say, that a Wolf is not to be held by the Ears; but a People and City are chiefly to be drawn by the Ears, and not, as some do, who, be-being unpractis'd in Eloquence, seek other absurd and unartificial ways of taking them, and either draw them by the Belly, making them Feasts[ and Banquets,] or by the Purse, bestowing on them Gifts[ and Largesses,] or[ by the Eye,] exhibiting to them Masks and[ Prizes, or public] shows of[ Dancers and] Fencers, by which they do not so much led, as cunningly catch the People. For to led a People, is to persuade them by Reason[ and Eloquence;] but such Allurements of the Multitude nothing differ from the Baits, laid for the taking of irrational Animals.  
Let not yet the Speech of a Statesman be youthful and theatrical, 
V. Having proved that the good Life and Eloquence of him, who desires well to manage public Affairs, are the Foundations of his Authority, and considering of what weight such a Persons Speech is, he shows how he ought to behave himself in it.  as if he were making an Harangue, composed, like a Garland, of curious and florid Words; nor again, as Pytheas said of an Oration, made by Demosthenes, that it smelled of the Lamp and sophistical Curiosity, let it consist of over-subtil Arguments, and Periods, exactly framed by Rule and Compass. But as Musicians require, that the Strings of their Instruments should be sweetly and gently touched, and not rudely thrumm'd or beaten: so in the Speech of a Statesman, both when he Counsels, and when he commands, there should not appear either Violence or Cunning, nor should he think himself worthy of Commendation, for having spoken formally, artificially, and with an exact Observation of Punctualities; but his whole Discourse ought to be full of ingenuous Simplicity, true Magnanimity, fatherly Freedom, and careful Providence and Understanding, joining with Goodness,[ and Honesty,] Gracefulness and Attraction, proceeding from grave Expressions, and proper and persuasive Sentences. Now a political Oration does much more properly, than a juridical one, admit of sententious Speeches, Histories, Fables, and Metaphors, by which those who moderately and seasonably use them, exceedingly move[ their Hearers:] as he did, who said, 
When there was a Design of destroying Athens.  Make not Greece one-ey'd: and Demades, when he affirmed of himself, that he was to manage the shipwreck of the State; and Archilochus, when he said, 
Nor let the ston of Tantalus,  
Over this Isle hang always thus;  And Pericles, when he commanded 
So he called the little iceland Aegina.  the Eyesore of the Piraeum to be taken away: and photion, when he pronounced of Leosthenes's Victory, that the Stadium[ or Carrier] of the War was good; but that he feared the Dolichus[ or Afterclap and Length] of it. 
1. The Discourse of a Statesman ought to be majestic and great: witness the most excellent Magistrates.  But in general, Majesty and Greatness more befits a political Discourse: a Pattern of which may be the 
Orations of Demosthenes against King Philip.  philippics, and amongst the Orations set down by Thucydides, the Sthenelaida of Ephorus, that of Archidamus at Plataeae, and that of Pericles after the Plague. But as for those Rhetorical Flourishes and Harangues of Ephorus, Theopompus, and Anaximenes, which they made, after they had armed and set in order the Batallions, it may be said of them, None talks thus foolishly so near the Sword. Nevertheless, both Taunts and Raillery may sometimes be part of political Discourse, 
2. It should sometimes be pickant, especially in Replies but moderately.  so they proceed not to Injury or Scurrility, but are usefully spoken by him, who either reprehends or scoffs. But these things seem most to be allowed in Answers and Replys. For in that manner to begin a Discourse, as if one had purposely prepared himself for it, is the part of a common Jester, and carries with it an Opinion of Maliciousness: as was incident to the biting Jests of Cicero, Cato the Elder, and Euxitheus, an intimate Acquaintance of Aristotles, who frequently began first to jeer; but in him, who does it only in Revenge, the Seasonableness of it renders it not only pardonable, but also graceful. 
Notable Examples.  Such was the Answer of Demosthenes, when one that was suspected of Thievery, derided him for writing by Night, I knew that the keeping my Cand●e burning[ all Night] is offensive to you. So when Demades bawled out, Demosthenes [ forsooth] would correct me:[ thus would] the Sow,[ as the Proverb has it, teach] Minerva: That Minerva,[ replied Demosthenes,] was not long since taken in Adultery. Not ungraceful also was that of Xenaenetus to those Citizens, who upbraided him with flying when he was General, 'twas with you my dear 
The Greek has {αβγδ}, which signifies Heads.  Hearts. But in Raillery great Care is to be taken for the avoiding of Excess, and of any thing, that may either by its unseasonableness offend the Hearers, or show the Speaker to be of an ungenerous and sordid Disposition, such as were the Sayings of Democrates. For he, going up into the Assembly, said, that like the City, he had little Force, but much Wind: and at the Overthrow before Chaeronea, going forth to the People, he said: I would not have had the State to be in so ill a Condition, that you should[ be contented to] hear me also giving you Counsel. For this shew'd a mean Spirited Person, as the other did a Madman; but neither of them was becoming a Statesman. Now the Succinctness of Phocion's Speech was admired: whence Polyeuctus affirmed, that Demosthenes was the greatest Orator; but that photion spake most forcibly: for that his Discourse did in very few Words contain abundance of Matter; and Demosthenes, who contemned others, was wont, when photion stood up, to say, The Hatchet[ or Pruning-Knife] of my Orations arise●. 
3. He ought, after Pericles and others, to use a Language, brief, sententious, and premeditated, and be framed to answer and reply on Occasions.  Let your chief Endeavour therefore be to use to the Multitude a premeditated, and not empty Speeeh, and that with safety, knowing that Pericles himself, before he made any Discourse to the People, was wont to pray, that there might not a Word pass from him, foreign to the Business,[ he was to treat of.] 'tis requisite also, that you have a voluble Tongue, and exercised in speaking on all Occurrences: for Occasions are quick, and bring many sudden things in political Affairs. Wherefore also Demosthenes was, as they say, inferior to many, withdrawing and absconding himself, when sudden occasions offered. And Theophrastus relates, that Alcibiades, desirous to speak, not only what he ought, but as he ought, often hesitated, and stood still in the midst of his Speech, seeking and composing Expressions,[ fit for his purpose.] But he, who, as Matters and Occasions present themselves, rises up to speak, most of all moves, leads, and disposes of the Multitude. Thus lo Byzantinus came to make an Harangue to the Athenians, being then at dissension amongst themselves, by whom, when he perceived himself to be laughed at for the Littleness of his Stature, What would you do, said he, if you saw my Wife, who scarce reaches up to my Knees? And the Laughter thereupon increasing, Yet, went he on, as little as we are, when we fall out with one another, the City of Byzantium is not big enough to hold us. So Pytheas the Orator, who declaimed against the Honors, decreed to Alexander, when one said to him, Dare you, being so young, discourse of so great Matters? made this Answer, And yet Alexander, whom you decree to be a God, it younger, than I am. 'tis requisite also for the Champion of the Common-weal to bring to this, not slight, but all-concerning Contest, a firm and solid speech, attended with a strong Habit of Voice, and a long-lasting Breath, lest, being tired and spent with speaking, he chance to be overcome by 
Some rav'ning crier, with a roaring Voice,  
Loud, as 
A Brook near Athens, the Waters of which fell with an extraordinary Noise.  Cycloborus.—  Cato, when he had no hopes of persuading the People or Senate, whom he found prepossessed by the Courtships and endeavours of the contrary Party, was wont to rise up, and hold them a whole Day with an Oration, by that means depriving his Adversaries of their Opportunity. And thus much concerning the Preparation and Use of Speech may be sufficient for him, who can of himself find out and add what necessary follows from it.  
There are moreover two Avenues or Ways of entering into the Government of the State: 
VI. He now shows the two ways of entering into public Affairs, discoursing very pertinently of the first, and declaring, what is to be done, and what to be avoided in it.  the one short, and expeditious to the Lustre of Glory, but not without danger; the other more obscure and slow, but having also greater Security. For some there are, who, beginning with some great and illustrious Action, but which requires a courageous Boldness, do, like to those, that from a far extended Promontory launch forth into the Deep, steer directly into the very midst of public Affairs, thinking Pindar to have been in the right, when he said: 
If you a stately fabric do design,  
Be sure, that your Works Front with Lustre shine.  For both the Multitude do thrô a certain Satiety and Loathing of those, 
1. He would have one behave himself so virtuously at his Entrance, that his Ill-willers should be constrained to make him way.  to whom they have been accustomed, more readily receive a Beginner, as the Beholders do a[ fresh-entring] Combatant, and the Dignities and Authorities, which have a splendid and speedy increase,[ dazzle and] astonish Envy: For neither does that Fire, as Ariston says, make a smoke, nor that Glory breed Envy, which suddenly and quickly shines forth; but of those, who grow up slowly and by degrees, some are attacked on this side, others on that: whence many have withered away about the Tribunal, before ever they came to flourish. But when, as they say of Ladas, 
The Sound o'th Bar 
From whence they set forth to run.  yet rattled in his Ear,  
When Ladas having finished his Carreir,  
Was crowned—  Any one suddenly and gloriously performs an Embassy, triumphs, or leads forth an Army, neither the Envious, nor the Disdainful, have like Power over them,[ as over others.] Thus did Aratus ascend to Glory, making the Overthrow of the Tyrant Nicocles his first step to the Management of the Common-weal: Thus did Alcibiades, settling the Alliance with the Mantineans against the lacedæmonians. Pompey also required a Triumph, being not yet admitted into the Senat, and when Sylla opposed it, he said to him: More adore the rising, than the setting Sun: which when Sylla heard, he yielded to him. And the People of Rome on a sudden, contrary to the ordinary Course of the Law, declared Cornelius Scipio Consul, when he stood Candidate for the Aedileship, not from any vulgar Beginning, but admiring the Victory, he had got, whilst he was yet but a Youth, in a single Combat, fought in Spain, and his Gests a little after, performed at Carthage, when he was a Tribune[ or Colonel] of Foot, in respect of which, Cato the Elder cried out with a loud Voice: He only's wise, the rest like Shadows fly. Now then, 
2. Let him consider, that there is every where Work enough cut out for Men of Courage.  since the Affairs of the Cities have neither Wars to be managed, Tyrannies to be overthrown, nor Leagues and Alliances to be treated, what can any one undertake for the Beginning of an illustrious and splendid Government? There are yet left public Causes and Ambassies to the Emperor, which require the Courage and Prudence of an acute and cautious Person: There are also in the Cities many good[ and laudable Usages] neglected, which being restored, and many ill Practices, brought in by Custom, to the Disgrace or damage of the City, which being redressed, may gain him the Esteem of the People. Moreover, a great svit rightly determined, Fidelity in defending a poor Mans Cause against a powerful Adversary, and Freedom of Speech in behalf of Justice to some unjust Nobleman, have afforded some a glorious Entrance into the Administration of the State. Not a few also have been advanced by Enmity[ and Quarrels,] having set themselves to attack such Men, whose Dignity was either envied or terrible. For the Power of him, that is overthrown, does with greater Glory accrue to his Overthrower. 
3. One must not make ones Entrance by setting ones self to degrade the Good, but only the Wicked.  Indeed thrô Envy to contend against a good Man, and one, that has by virtue been advanced to the chiefest Honour, as Simmias did against Pericles, Alcmeon against Themistocles, Clodius against Pompey, and Meneclides the Orator against Epaminondas, is neither good for ones Reputation, nor otherwise advantageous. For when the multitude, having outrag'd some good Man, soon after, as it[ frequently] happens, repent of their Indignation, they think that way of excusing this Offence the easiest, which is indeed the justest, to wit, the Destroying of him, who was the persuader and Author of it. But the rising up to humble and pull down a wicked Person, who has by his Audaciousness and Cunning subjected the City to himself( such as heretofore clear and Clitophon were in Athens) makes a glorious Entrance to the Management of public Affairs, as it were to a Play. 
4. He shows, how we must take bead of stumbling as 'tis said, at the Threshold.  I am not ignorant also, that some by opposing, as Ephialtes did at Athens, and Phormio amongst the Elaeans, an imperious and oligarchical Senat, have at the same time obtained both Authority and Honor; but in this there is great Danger to him, who is but entering upon the Administration of the State. Wherefore Solon took a better Beginning: for the City of Athens being divided into three parts, the Diacrians[ or Inhabitants of the Hill,] the Pedieans[ or Dwellers in the Plain,] and the Paralians[ or those, whose Abode was by the Waterside,] he, joining himself with none of them, but being indifferent to them all, and saying and doing all things, for to bring them to Concord, was chosen the Law-giver to take away their Differences, and by that means settled the State.  
Such then, 
VII. The second manner of entering upon the Management of public Affairs, concerning which he proposes many Advertisements.  and so many Beginnings has the more splendid way of entering upon State-Affairs: But many gallant Men have chosen the safe and slow Method, as Aristides, photion, Pammenes the Theban, Lucullus in Rome, Cato, and Agesilaus the Lacedaemonian. 
1. That one must advance under the Authority of those, that are most respected in the State.  For as Ivy, twining about the strongest Trees, rises up together with them: so every one of these, applying himself, whilst he was yet young and inglorious, to some elder and illustrious parsonage, and growing up and increasing by little and little under his Authority, grounded and rooted himself in the Common-weal: For Clisthenes advanced Aristides, Cabrias preferred photion, Sylla promoted Lucullus, Maximus raised Cato, Pammenes forwarded Epaminondas, and Lysander assisted Agesilaus. But this last, injuring his own Reputation thrô an unseasonable Ambition and jealousy, soon threw off the Director of his Actions; but the rest honestly, politically, and to the end, venerated and magnified[ the Authors of their Advancement: as the Bodies, which are opposed to the Sun, do by reflecting back the Light, that shines upon them, augment it, and render it more illustrious. Certainly those, who looked asquint upon Scipio, called him the Player[ or Actor,] and his Companion Laelius, the Author of his Actions; yet was not Laelius puffed up by any of these things, but continued to promote the virtue and Glory of Scipio. 
2. That one must keep the Friendship of those who are in repute.  And Afranius, the Friend of Pompey, thô he was very meanly descended, yet being at the very point to be chosen Consul, when[ he understood, that] Pompey favoured others, gave over his svit, saying, that his obtaining the Consulship would not be so honourable, as grievous and troublesome to him, if it were against the good Will, and without the Assistance of Pompey. Having therefore delayed but one year, he both enjoyed the Dignity, and preserved his Friendship. Now those who are thus by others lead, as it were by the Hand, to Glory, do, in gratifying one, at the same time also gra●●fy the Multitude, and incur less Odium, if any Inconvenience befalls them. Wherefore also Philip[ King of Macedon] exhorted[ his Son] Alexander, whilst he had leisure, during the Reign of another, to get himself Friends, winning their Love by kind and affable Behaviour. 
3. That the most virtuous is to be followed, and the Danger of keeping Company with the Ambitious.  Now he that begins to enter upon the Administration of State Affairs, should choose himself a Guide, who is not only a Man of Credit and Authority, but is also such for his virtue. For as 'tis not every three, that will admit and bear the Twining of a Vine, there being some, which utterly choke and spoil its Growth: so in States those, who are not Lovers of[ virtue and] Goodness, but only of Honour and sovereignty, afford not young[ Beginners any] Opportunities of[ performing worthy] Actions, but do thrô Envy keep them down, and let them languish,[ whom they regard, as] depriving them of their Glory, which is, as it were, their Food. Thus Marius, having first in afric, and afterwards in Galatia, done many gallant Exploits by[ the Assistance of] Sylla, forbore[ any farther] to employ him, and[ utterly] cast him off, being indeed vexed at his growing[ into repute,] but making his Pretence[ the Device, engraven on] his Seal. For Sylla, being Quaestor[ or Pay-master] under Marius, when he was Praetor,[ or General] in afric, and sent by him to Bacchus, brought with him Jugurtha Prisoner; but as he was an ambitious young Man, who had but just tasted[ the Sweetness of] Glory, he received not his good Fortune with Moderation; but having caused the Representation of the Action to be engraven on his Seal, wore about him Jugurtha delivered into his Hands: and this did Marius lay to his Charge, when he turned him off. But Sylla, passing over to Catulus and Metellus, who were good Men, and at difference with Marius, soon after in a Civil War drove away and ruined Marius, who wanted but little of overthrowing Rome. Sylla indeed[ on the contrary] advanced Pompey from a very Youth, rising up to him, and uncovering his Head, as he passed by, and not only giving other young Men Occasions of doing Captain-like Actions, but even instigating some, that were backward[ and unwilling,] he filled the Armies with Emulation and Desire of Honour: and thus he had the Superiority over them all, desiring not to be alone, but the first and greatest amongst many great ones. These therefore are the Men, to whom young Statesmen ought to adhere, and with these they should be[ as it were] incorporated, not stealing from them their Glory, like Aesop's Wren, which, being carried up on the Eagles Wings, suddenly flew away, and got before her; but receiving it of them with Friendship and good Will: since they can never, as Plato says, be able to govern aright, if they have not been first well practised in Obedience.  

VIII. What Friends a Statesman ought to choose.  After this, follows the judgement, that is to be had in the Choice of Friends, in which neither the Opinion of Themistocles, nor that of clear, is to be approved. For clear, when he first knew, that he was to take on him the Government, assembling his Friends together, broke off Friendship with them, as that, which often disables the Mind, and withdraws it from its just and upright Intention in managing the Affairs of the State. But he would have done better, 
1. He ought not to shun his Friends and be familiar with Flatterers.  if he had cast out of his Soul Avarice and Contention, and cleansed himself from Envy and Malice. For Cities want not Men, that are Friendless and unaccompany'd, but such as are good and temperat. Now he indeed drove away his Friends; but an hundred Heads of fawning Flatterers were, as the comedian speaks, licking about him; and being harsh and severe to those, that were civil, he again debased himself to court the favour of the Multitude, doing all things to humour them, and taking Rewards at every Mans Hand, and joining himself with the worst and most distempered of the People against the best. 
2. He must not for the sake of his Friends derogate from the Authori- of the Laws.  But Themistocles on the contrary said to one, who  told him, that he would govern well, if he exhibited himself alike to all: May I never si● on that Throne, on which my Friends shall not have more[ Power] with me, than those, who are not my Friends. Neither did he well in promising the State to his Friendship, and submitting the common and public Affairs to his private favours and Affections. And yet he said to Simonides, when he requested somewhat, that was not just: Neither is he a good Poet[ or Musician,] who sings against Measure, nor he an upright Magistrate, who gratifies[ any one] against the Laws. For it would really be a shameful and miserable thing, that the Pilot should choose Mariners, and the Master of the Ship a Pilot, 
Who well can rule the Helm, and in good guise  
hoist up the Sails, when Winds begin to rise;  and that an Architect[ or Master-builder] should make choice of such Servants and Workmen, as will not prejudice his Work, but take pains in the best manner[ to forward him in the Accomplishment of it;] and that a Statesman, who, as Pindar has it, 
The best of Artists, and chief Workman is,  
Of Equity and Justice,—  should not presently choose himself like-affected Friends and Ministers, and such, as might co-inspire into him a Love of Honesty, but that one or other should be always unjustly and violently bending him to other Uses. For he will be seen to differ in nothing from a Carpenter or Mason, who thrô Ignorance and want of Experience uses such Squares, Rules, and Levels, as will certainly make his Work to be awry. 
3. He must not let them abuse his Friendship to the committing Disorders in the State.  For Friends are the living and intelligent Instruments of Statesmen, who ought to be so far from bearing them company in their Slips and Transgressions, that they must be careful, they do not, even unknown to them, commit a Fault. For this it was, that both disgraced Solon, and brought him into dis-repute amongst his Citizens; for he, having an Intention to ease Mens Debts, and to bring in[ that, which was called at Athens] the Seisachtheia,( for that was the Name given by way of Extenuation to the canceling of Debts) communicated this Design to some of his Friends, who thereupup did a most unjust Act; for having got this Inkling, they borrowed abundance of Money, and the Law being a little after brought to light, they appeared to have purchased stately Houses, and great store of Land with the Wealth they had borrowed: and Solon, who was himself injured, was accused to have been a partaker of their Injustice. 
Several Examples to this purpose.  Agosilaus also was most feeble and mean-spirited in what concerned the Suits of his Friends, being like the Horse Pegasus in Euripides, Who, frighted, bowed his Back, more than his Rider would. So that being more ready to help them in their Misfortunes, than was requisite, he seemed to be privy to their Injustices. For he saved Phoebidas, who was condemned for having without Commission surprised the Castle of Thebes, called Cadmeia, saying, that such Enterprizes were to be attempted without expecting any Orders. And when Sphodrias fled from judgement for an unlawful and heinous Act, having made an Incursion into Attica, at such time as the Athenians were Allies and Confederates of the Spartans, he procured him to be acquitted, being softened by the amorous Entreaties of his Son. There is also recorded a short Epistle of his, written in these Words. If Nicias is innocent, discharge him, if he is guilty, discharge him for my Sake; but however it is, discharge him. 
4. He m●st after the example of Ph●cion and others prefe● the Preservation of the Laws and his country to any particular person whatever.  But photion[ on the contrary] woul● not so much as appear in behalf of his Son-in-Law charilus, when he was accused for having taken Money of Harpalus; but having said, In all just things I ha●e made you my Ally, went his way. And Timoleon the Corinthian, when he could not by Admonitions or Requests dissuade his Brother from being a Tyrant, confederated with his Destroyers. For a Magistrate ought not to be a Friend[ on this Condition only, that it be] even to the Altar, or till he comes to the point of being forsworn, as Pericles sometime said; but[ that it be no farther than is agreeable] to all Law, Justice, and the Utility of the State; any of which, being neglected, brings a great and public damage, as did the not executing of Justice on Sphodrias and Phoebidas, who did not a little contribute to the engaging of Sparta in the Leuctrian War.  

IX. How a Statesman ought to behave himself towards his Friends. 1. He may favour them, after he has secured the public, and how far this favour is to extend.  Otherwise Reason of State is so far from necessitating one to show himself severe on every[ Peccadillo or] slight Offence of his Friends, that it even permits him, when he has secured the principal Affairs of the public to assist them, stand by them, and labour for them. There are moreover certain favours, that may be done without Envy, as is the helping a Friend to obtain an Office, or rather the putting into his Hands some honourable Commission, or[ the employing him in] some plausible Embassy, such as is the Congratulating or honouring some Prince, or the making a League of Amity and Alliance with some State. But if there is some difficult, but withal illustrious and great, Action to be performed, having first taken it upon himself, he may afterwards assume a Friend to his Assistance, as did Diomedes, whom Homer makes to speak in this manner: 

Iliad. l. 7.  Since a Companion you will have me take,  
How can I think a better Choice to make,  
Than the Divine Ulysses?—  And Ulysses again as kindly attributes to him the Praise of the achievement, saying: 
These stately Steeds, whose country you demand,  
Nestor, were hither brought from Thracian Land,  
Whose King, with twelve of his best Friends, lies dead,  
All slain by th'hand of warlike Diomed:  For this sort of Concession no less adorns the Praiser than the praised; but Self-conceitedness, as Plato says, dwells with Solitude,[ being hated and abandoned by every one. 
2. He ought to associate his Friends in his favours. ] He ought moreover to associate his Friends in those good and kind Offices,[ which are done by him,] bidding those, whom he has benefited to love them, and give them thanks, as having been the Procurers and counsellors[ of his favours to them. 
3. To deny them mildly, when they make any unfitting Request. ] But he must reject the dishonest and unreasonable Requests of his Friends, yet not churlishly, but mildly, teaching and showing them, that they are not beseeming their virtue and Honor. Never was any Man better at this, than Epaminondas, who, having denied to deliver out of Prison a certain Victualler, when requested by Pelopidas, and yet a little after dismissing him at the Desire of his Miss, said to his Friend, these, O Pelopidas, are favours, fit for Wenches to receive, and not for Generals. Cato on the other side acted morosely and insolently, who, when Catulus the 
A Magistrate in Rome, whose Office it was to regulate the Behaviour and expenses of the Citizens.  Censor, his most intimate and familiar Friend, interceded with him for one of those, against whom he, being Quaestor, had entred Process, said: 'tis a shane, that you, who ought to reform us young Men, should be thrust out by our Servants. For he might, thô in effect refusing the requested favour, have yet forborn that Severity and Bitterness of Speech, so that his doing, what was displeasing to his Friend, might have seemed not to have proceeded from his own Inclination, but to have been a Necessity, imposed upon him by Law and Justice. 
4. To help them grow rich, and how.  There are also in the Administration of the State Methods, not dishonourable, of assisting our poorer Friends in the making of their Fortune. Thus did Themistocles, who, seeing after a Battle one of those, which lay dead in the Field, adorned with Chains of Gold and Jewels, did himself pass by him, but turning back to a Friend of his, said: Do you take these Spoils, for you are not yet come to be Themistocles. For even the Affairs themselves do frequently afford a Statesman such Opportunities of benefiting his Friends: for every Man is not a Menemachus. To one therefore give the Patronage of a Cause, both just and beneficial; to another recommend some rich Man, who stands in need of Management and Protection; and help a third to be employed in some public Work, or to some gainful and profitable Farm. Epaminondas bade a Friend of his go to a certain rich Man, and ask him for a Talent, to be given him at the Command of Epaminondas, and when he, to whom the Message was sent, came to inquire the Reason of it: Because, said Epaminondas, he is a very honest Man and poor, and you, by converting much of the Cities Wealth to your own Use, are become rich. And Xenophon reports, that Agesnaus delighted in enriching his Friends, himself making no account of Money.  

X. How a Statesman ought to behave himself towards his Enemies.  Now since, as Simonides says, all Larks must have a Crest, and every eminent Office in a common-weal brings Enmities and dissensions, 'tis not a little convenient for a Statesman to be forwarn'd also of[ his Comportment in] these rencounters. Many therefore commend Themistocles and Aristides, who, when they were to go forth on any Embassy, or to command together the Army, 
1. When the Service of the public is in question, he must lay aside his particular Concerns.  laid down their Enmity at the Confines of the City, taking it up again after their Return. Some a gain are highly pleased with the Action of Cretinas the Magnesian: He, having for his Adversary[ or Rival] in the Government one Hermeas, a Man, not powerful[ and rich,] but ambitious and high-spirited, when the Mithridatick War came on, seeing the City in Danger, desired Hermeas, either to take the Government upon himself, and manage the Affairs, whilst he retired; or if he would have him take the Command of the Army, to depart himself immediately, lest they should thrô their ambitious Contention destroy the City. The Proposal pleased Hermeas, who, saying, that Cretinas was a better soldier than himself, did with his Wife and Children quit the City. Cretinas then sent him forth before, furnishing him out of his own Estate with all such things, as are more useful to those, that fly from Home, than to those, that are besieged, and excellently defending the City, unexpectedly preserved it, being at the Point to be destroyed. For if 'tis generous, and proceeding from a magnanimous Spirit, to cry out, I love my Children, but my country more, Why should it not be readier for every one of them to say, I hate this Man, and desire to do him a Diskindness, but the Love of my country has greater Power over me? For not to condescend to be reconciled to an Enemy for those very Causes, for which we ought to abandon even a Friend, is even to extremity savage and brutish. 
2. But 'tis incomparably better, not to hate any one for ones own particular Interest, but only to be an Enemy to those, that would prejudice the public.  But far better did those about photion and Cato, who grounded not any Enmity at all on their political Differences, but being fierce and obstinate only in their public Contests, not to recede from any thing,[ they judged] convenient for the State, did in their private Affairs use those very Persons friendly and courteously, from whom they differed in the other. For one ought not to esteem any Citizen an Enemy, unless it be such an one, as is like Ariston, Nabis, or catiline, the Disease and Plague of the City; but as for those, that are otherwise at Discord,[ a good Magistrate should,] like a skilful Musician, by gently setting them up, or letting them down, bring them to Concord, not falling angrily and reproachfully upon those, that err, but mildly[ reprehending them in such like Terms,] as[ these of] Homers, Good Friend, I thought you wiser than the rest, And Again, You could have  told a better Tale than this; nor yet repining at their Honors, or sparing to speak freely in Commendation of their good Actions, if they say or do any thing advantageous[ to the public.] For thus will our Reprehension, when it is requisite, be credited, and we shall render them averse to 'vice, increasing their virtue, and showing, by comparing them, how much the one is more worthy and beseeming them than the other. But I indeed am also of Opinion, 
3. He ought to p●aise them in just things and even uphold them, if they are calunniated.  that a Statesman should in just Causes give Testimony to his Enemies, stand by them, when they are accused by Sycophants, and discredit Imputations, brought against them, if they are repugnant to their Inclinations: as Nero himself, a little before he put to Death Thraseas, whom of all Men he both most hated and feared, when one accused him for giving a wrong and unjust Sentence, said: I wish, Thraseas were but as great a Lover of me, as he is a most upright Judge. Neither is it amiss for the Daunting of others, who are by Nature more inclined to 'vice, when they offend, to make mention of some Enemy of theirs, who is better behaved, and say, Such an one would not have spoken, or acted thus. And some again, when they transgress, are to be put in mind of their virtuous Progenitors. Thus Homer says, 
Iliad. l. 5. Examples.  Tydeus has Left a Son unlike himself. And Appius, contending in the Comitia with Scipio Africanus, said, How deeply, O Paulus[ Aemilius,] wouldst thou sigh amongst the infernal Shades, wert thou but sensible that Philonicus the Publican guards thy Son, who is going to stand for the Office of Censor. For such manner of Speeches do both admonish the Offenders, and become their Admonishers. Nestor also in Sophocles, being reproached by Ajax, thus politicly answers him: 
I blame you not, for you act well, although  
You speak but ill—  And Cato, who had opposed Pompey in his joining with Caesar to force the City, when they fell to open Wars, gave his Opinion, that the Conduct of the State should be committed to Pompey, saying; That those, who are capable to do the greatest Mischiefs, are fittest to put a stop to them. 
4. How one may blame them.  For Reprehension, mixed with Praise, and accompanied not with Opprobriousness, but Liberty of Speech; nor working Animosity, but Remorse and Repentance, appears both kind and salutary; but railing Expression do not at all beseem Statesmen[ or Men of Honor:] Do but look into the Speeches of Demosthenes against Aeschines, and of Aeschines against him; and again into what Hyperides has written against Demades; and consider whether Solon, Pericles, Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian, or Pittacus the Lesbian would have spoken in that manner: and yet Demosthenes used this reproachful manner of Speaking only in his juridical Orations or Pleadings: for his philippics are clean[ and free] from all Scoffing and Scurrility. For such Discourses do not only more disgrace the Speakers, than the Hearers,[ or those, against whom they are spoken;] but do moreover breed Confusion in Affairs, and disturb councils and Assemblies. Wherefore photion did excellently well, who, having broken off his Speech, to give way to one, that railed against him, when the other with much ado held his Peace, going on again, where he had left off, said: You have already heard what has been spoken of Horsemen and heavy armed Foot; I am now to treat of such as are light-arm'd and Targuetiers. But since many Persons can hardly contain themselves on such occasions, 
5. What manner of Replies one may be permitted to make them.  and since Railers have often their Mouths not impertinently stopped by Replies: let the Answer be short and pithy, not showing any Indignation or Bitterness of Anger, but Mildness joined with Raillery and Gracefulness, yet somewhat[ tart and] biting. Now such especially are the Retortings, of what has been spoken before. For as Darts, returning against their Caster, seem to have been repulsed and beaten back by a certain Strength and Solidity in him,[ or that,] against which they were thrown: so what was spoken, seems by the Strength and Understanding of the Reproach to have been turned back upon the Reproacher. Such was that Reply of Epaminondas to Callistratus, who upbraided the Thebans with OEdipus, and the Argives with Orestes, one of which had killed his Father, and the other his Mother: Yet they, who did these things, being rejected by us, were received by you. 
Remarkable Examples.  Such also was the Repartee of Antalcides the Spartan to an Athenian, who said to him, We have often[ driven you back and] pursued you from[ the River] Cephisus; but we,[ replied Antalcides,] never[ yet pursued] you from the River Eurotas. photion also, when Demades cried out, The Athenians, if they grow mad, will kill thee, elegantly replied: And thee, if they come again to their Wits. So when Domitius said to Crassus the Orator, Did not you weep for the Death of the Lamprey you kept in your Fish-pond? Did not you, said Crassus to him again, bury three Wives without ever shedding a Tear? These things therefore have indeed their Use also thrô all the rest of a Mans Life.  

XI. He now treats, whether a Statesman ought to concern himself in all public Affairs; and res●lves, that he ought to manage only what is of greatest Importance.  Moreover some, like Cato, thrust themselves into every Part of Policy,[ or every kind of public Office,] thinking a good Citizen should not omit any Care or Industry for[ the obtaining] Authority. And these Men greatly commend Epaminondas; for that being by the Thebans thrô Envy, and in Contempt, appointed Telearch, he did not reject it, but saying, That the Office does not only show the Man, but the Man also the Office, He brought the Telearchate into great and venerable Repute, which was before nothing but a certain Charge[ or Overseeing] of the carrying the Dung out of the narrow Streets[ and Lanes of the City,] and turning of Water-Courses.[ Nor do I doubt, but that] I myself also afford matter of Laughter to many, who come into this our City, being frequently seen in public employed about such Matters. But that comes into my Assistance, which is related of Antisthenes: for when one wondered to see him carry a piece of Stockfish thrô the Market, 'tis for myself, said he. But I on the contrary say to those, who upbraid me for being present at[ and overseeing] the Measuring[ and counting] of Tiles, or the bringing in[ and unloading] of Chalk and Stones: 'tis not for myself, but for my country, that I 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}. 〈◇〉.  perform this Service. For thô he, who in his own Person manages and does many such things for himself, may be judged mean spirited and mechanical; yet if he does them for the public, and for his country, he is not to be deemed fordid; but on the Contrary, his Diligence and Readiness,[ extending] even to these small Matters, is[ to be esteemed] greater, and more highly valued. 
1. Because 'tis more august.  But others there are, that hold Pericles's Manner of acting to have been more magnanimous and august; amongst which is Critolaus the Peripatetic, who is of Opinion, that, as at Athens the Salaminian Ship, and the Paralus, were not launched forth for every Service, but[ only] on necessary and great Occasions: so a Statesman ought to employ himself in the chiefest and greatest Affairs, like the King of the Universe, who, as Euripides says, 
Reserves great things for his own Government,  
But small things leaves to Fortunes Management.  For neither do we approve the excessively ambitious and contentious Spirit of Theagenes, 
2. Because the contrary renders one suspected of Ambition and Vain-Glory.  who, having not only obtained the Victory thrô a whole Course of Exercises, but also in many other Contests, and that not only in Wrestling, but in buffeting, and Running of long razes; at last, being at the Anniversary Festival Supper of a certain Hero, after every one[ was served, or] had his Portion set him, according to the Custom, he started up, and fell to Wrestling, as if 'twere necessary, no other should conquer, when he was present: whence he got together twelve hundred Coronets, most of which one would have taken for Rubbish. Now[ little or] nothing do they differ from him, who strip themselves for every public Affair, but render themselves reprehensible by many, becoming troublesone, and being, when they do well, the Subject of Envy, and when ill, of rejoicing. And that Industry, which was at the beginning admired, turns afterwards to Contempt and Laughter. 
3. Because it makes one odious and ridiculous  In this manner it was said: Metiochus leads forth the Army, Metiochus oversees the High-Ways, Metiochus bakes the Bread, Metiochus bolts the Meal, Metiochus does all things, Metiochus shall bear the Misfortune. This [ Metiochus] was a Follower of Pericles, and made use, it seems, of the Power, he had with him, invidiously and disdainfully. For a Statesman ought to come to a People, that is, as they say, in love with him, and leave in them a Longing after him, when he is absent: which Course Scipio Africanus also took, dwelling a long time in the country, at the same time both removing from himself the burden of Envy, and giving those leisure to breath, who seemed to be oppressed by his Glory. 
4. Because he ought to shun the ill Will of others, whether Great or Little.  But Timesias the Clazomenian, who was otherwise a good commonwealths-man, was ignorant of his being envied, and hated for doing all things by himself, till the following Accident befell him. It happened, that as he passed by, where certain Boys were striking a Cockall-bone out of an Hole, some of them said, that the Bone was still left within; but he, who had strike it, cried out, I wish, I had as certainly beaten out Timesias's Brains, as this Bone is out of the Hole. Timesias, hearing this, and thereby understanding the Envy[ and spite,] born him by every one, return'd Home, where he imparted the Matter to his Wife, and having commanded her to pack up all, and follow him, immediately left both his House and the City. And Themistocles seems to have been in some such Condition amongst the Athenians, when he said: How is it, O ye blessed ones, that you are tired with the frequent receiving of Benefits? Now some of those things have indeed been rightly spoken, others not so well. For a Statesman ought not to withdraw his Affection and providential Care from any public Affair whatever, but in that respect apply himself to understand them all; neither should he reserve himself, like the sacred Anchor in a Ship, for the last Necessities and Hazards of the State. 
5. That showing himself a Lover of the public Good, he must not imagine himself able to manage every thing, but must, as do the Masters of Ships, make use of others.  But as the Masters of Ships do some things with their own Hands, and perform others, sitting a far off by other Instruments, turning and winding them by the Hands of others, and making use of Mariners, Boatswains, and Mates, some of which they often call to the Stern, putting the Helm into their Hands: so 'tis convenient for a Statesman, sometimes to yield the Command to his Companions, and to invite them kindly and civilly to the Tribunal, not managing all the Affairs of the Common-weal by his own Speeches, Decrees, and Actions, but that having good and faithful Men he may employ every one of them in that proper and peculiar Station, which he finds to be most suitable for him. Thus Pericles used Menippus for the Conduct of the Armies, by Ephialtes he humbled the council of the A●eopagus, by Charinus he passed the Law against the Megarians, and sent Lampon to People the City of the Thurii. For the Greatness of Authority is not only less liable to be envied by the People, 
6. That by this means public Affairs are better reregula●ed.  when it seems to be divided amongst many; but the Business is also more exactly done. For as the Division of the Hand into Fingers has not weakened it, but rendered it more commodious and instrumental for the Uses, to which it serves: so he, who in the Administration of a State gives part of the Affairs to others, renders the Action more efficacious by communicating it. But he, who thrô an unsatiable Desire of Glory or Power lays the whole[ burden of the] State upon his own Shoulders, and applies himself to that, for which he is neither fitted by Nature nor Exercise, as clear did to the leading forth of Armies, Philopoemen to the Commanding of Navies, and Annibal to Haranguing the People, has no Excuse for his Errors; but hears that of Euripides objected against him, 
Thou, but a Carpenter, concern'dst thyself  
With Works, not wrought in Wood:—  Being no good Orator, 
7. That 'tis a great shane and Folly to think on doing many things himself alone, since he often finds enough to do in performing one, as he ought.  you went on an ambassage, being of a lazy Temper, you thrust yourself into the Stewardship, being ignorant in keeping Accounts, you would be Treasurer, or being old and infirm, you took on you the Command of the Army. But Pericles divided his Authority with Cimon, reserving to himself the Governing within the City, and committing to him the Manning of the Navy, and making War upon the Barbarians: for the other was naturally fitter for War, and himself for Civil Affairs. Eubulus also the Anaphlystian is much commended, that having Credit and Authority in Matters of the greatest Importance, he managed none of the graecian Affairs, nor betook himself to the Conducting of the Army; but employing himself about the Treasure, he augmented the public Revenues, and greatly benefited the City by them. But Iphicrates, practising to make Declamations at his own House in the presence of many, rendered himself ridiculous: for thô he had been no bad Orator, but an excellently good one, yet ought he to have contented himself with the Glory, got by Arms, and abstaining from the School, to have left it to the Sophisters.  
But since 'tis incident to every Populacy to be malicious, 
XII. Of the Prudence, a Statesman ought to be furnished with for obviating Calumnies, and procuring, what is for the Public Good, to be received by the People, yea, even by his very Enemies.  and desirous to find fault with their Governors, and since they[ are apt to] suspect, that many, even useful things, if they pass without being opposed or contradicted, are done by Conspiracy, and since this principally brings Societies and Friendships into Obloquy; they must not indeed leave any real Enmity or dissension against themselves, as did Onomademus, a Demagogue of the Chians, who, having mastered a Sedition, suffered not all his Adversaries to be expelled the City: Lest, said he, we should begin to differ with our Friends, when we are wholly freed from our Enemies: for this would be indeed a Folly. But when the Multitude shall have conceived a Suspicion against any important and beneficial Project, they must not, as if it were by Confederacy, all deliver the same Opinion; but two or three of them must dissent, and mildly oppose their Friend, and afterwards, as if they were convinced by Reason, change their Sentiment: for by this means they draw along with them the People, who think them moved by the Beneficialness of the thing. But in small Matters, and such, as are of no great Consequence, 'tis not amiss to suffer his Friends really to differ, every one following his own private Reason: that so in the principal and greatest Concerns they may not seem to act upon Design, when they shall unanimously agree, to what is best.  

XIII. That he ought not to hunt after all Offices, but only accept of those, to which he is lawfully called, and how he ought to behave himself as well in great as little Employs.  The Politician therefore is by Nature always the Prince of the City, as the King among the Bees: And in consideration of this, he ought always to have the Helm of public Affairs in his Hand; but as for those Dignities and Offices, to which Persons are nominated and chosen by the Suffrages of the People, he should neither too eagerly, or often pursue them, the seeking after Offices being neither venerable nor popular, nor yet should he reject them, when the People legally confer them on him, and invite him to them; but even, thô they are below his Reputation, to accept them, and willingly employ himself in them: for 'tis but just, that they, who have been honoured by Offices of greater Dignity, should in return grace those of inferior Rank. And in those more weighty[ and superior] Employs, such as are the Commanding of the Armies in Athens, the Prytaneia in Rhodes, and the Boeotarchy amongst us, he should carry himself with such Moderation, as to remit and abate something of their Grandeur, adding somewhat of Dignity and Venerableness to those, that are meaner and less esteemed, that he may be neither despised for these, nor envied for those.  
Now it behoves him that enters upon any Office, 
XIV. On what they ought to reflect, who intermeddle in public Affairs.  not only to have at hand those Arguments, of which Pericles put himself in mind, when he first received the rob of State: Bethink thyself, Pericles, thou governst Free-men, thou governst Grecians, yea, Citizens of Athens; but farther also he ought to say thus with himself: Thou, being a Subject, governst a City, which is under the Obedience of Caesars Proconsul, or Lieutenant. These are not the Plains of the Lance, this is not the ancient Sardis, nor is this the pvissance of the Lydians. Thou must make thy rob scantier, look from the Pavilion to the Tribunal, and not place too great Confidence in thy Crown, since thou seest shoes over thy Head. But in this the Stage-Players are to be imitated, who add indeed to the Play their own passionate Transports, Behaviour and Countenance, suitable[ to the Person, they represent,] but yet give ear to the Prompter, and transgress not the Rythms and Measures of the Faculty granted them by their Masters. 
1. By not doing this men endanger their Lives.  For an Error[ in Government] brings not,[ as in the acting of a Tragedy, only] Hissing and Derision; but many have by this means, subjected themselves to that Severe Chastiser, the Neck-cutting Ax. As it befell those who were about 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}.  our countryman Pardalus, when they forgot their 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}.  Oaths. Another being confined to a[ certain desert] iceland, became as Solon has it, 
At last from a banished Athenian,  
A Pholegandrian or Sicinitan.  For we laugh indeed, when we see little Children endeavouring to fasten their Fathers shoes on their own Feet, 
2. Or at least render themselves contemptible and ridiculous.  or set their Crowns on their Heads in sport. But the Governors of Cities foolishly exhorting the People to imitate those Works, achievements, and Actions of their Ancestors, which are not suitable to the present Times and Affairs, elevate the Multitude, and doing things, that are ridiculous, suffer not however, what is fit to be laughed at, unless they are Men altogether despised. For there are many other Facts of the ancient Greeks, the Recital of which to those, who are now living, may serve to form and moderate their Manners: as would be the Relating at Athens, not the warlike[ Exploits of their Progenitors,] but, for Example, the Decree of Amnesty[ or general Pardon and Oblivion,] after the[ Expulsion of the] thirty[ Tyrants;] the Fining of Phrynichus, who represented in a Tragedy the Taking of Miletus; how they wore Garlands on their Heads, when Cassander rebuilt Thebes; that having Intelligence of the Scytalism,[ or Slaughter] at Argos, in which the Argives put to death fifteen hundred of their own Citizens, they commanded a Lustration[ or expiatory Sacrifice] to be carried about in a full Assembly; and that searching of Houses for those, that were confederated with Harpalus, they passed by only one, which was inhabited by a Man newly married. For by the imitating of such things, as these, they may even now resemble their Ancestors; but[ the Fights at] Marathon, Eurymedon, and Plataeae, and whatever Examples vainly puff up and heighten the Multitude, should be left to the Schools of the Sophisters.  
Now a Statesman ought not only to exhibit himself and his country blameless with the Prince, 
XV. That he must keep Friendship with other Lords, of whose good Will he may stand in need: and refer all to the public Profit.  but also to have always for his Friend, some one of those that are most powerful above, as a firm support of Polity: for the Romans are of such a Disposition, that they are most ready to[ assist] their Friends in their political endeavours. 'tis good also to produce[ the Examples of] those, which have 
I omit {αβγδ}, and for {αβγδ}, red {αβγδ}.  received Benefit from their Friendship with Princes, as did Polybius and Panaetius, who, thrô the Favour of Scipio to them, greatly advantaged their Countreys for[ the obtaining] Felicity. So Caesar, when he had taken Alexandria, made his Entry into it, holding Areias by the Hand, and discoursing with him alone of all his Familiars: after which, Augustus said to the Alexandrians, who, expecting the utmost Severity, supplicated his favour, that he pardoned them for the Greatness of their City, for its Builder Alexander, and thirdly, added he, to gratify this my Friend. Is it then fit to compare to this Benefit those exceeding gainful Commissions, and Administrations of Provinces, in the pursuit of which many even grow old at other Mens Doors, leaving their own domestic Affairs in the mean time unregarded? Or should we not rather correct Euripides, singing and saying, that, if one must watch and sue at anothers Court, and subject ones self to some great Mans Familiarity, 'tis most commendable so to do for the Sake of ones country, but otherwise to embrace and pursue Friendships on equal and just Conditions.  

XVI. He ought to take heed, lest by seeking the Friendship of Princes he bring his country into Slavery.  Yet ought not he, who renders and exhibits his country obsequious to potent Princes, to contribute to the oppressing of it, nor having tied its Leg, to subject also its Neck, as some do, who, referring all things, both great and little to these Potentates, upbraid it with Servitude, or rather wholly take away the Common-wealth, rendering it astonished, timorous, and without Command of any thing. For as those, who are accustomed neither to Sup nor Bath without the Physician, do not make so much use of their Health, as Nature affords them: so they, who introduce the Princes judgement into every Decree, Council, Favour, and Administration, necessitate the Princes to be more Masters of them, than they desire. Now the Cause of this is principally the Avarice and Ambition of the chief Citizens: for either by injuring their Inferiors, they compel them to fly out of the City; or in such things, wherein they differ from one another, disdaining to be worsted by their Fellow Citizens, they bring in such, as are more powerful: whence both the Council, People, Courts of Judicature, and whole Magistracy lose their Authority. But he ought to appease private Citizens by Equality, and mightier Men by mutual Submissions, so to keep within the Common-weal, and there determine Affairs, making for these things, as it were for secret Diseases, a certain Political Medicine, both being himself rather willing to be vanquished amongst his Fellow Citizens, than to get the better by the Injury and Dissolution of his Countreys Rights, and requesting the same of every one else, and teaching them, how great a Mischief this Obstinacy in contending is. But now, rather than they will with Honour and Benignity mutually yield to their Fellow Citizens, Kinsmen, Neighbours, and Colleagues in Office, they do with no less Prejudice than shane, carry forth their dissensions to the Doors of the Pleaders, and[ put them into] the Hands of pragmatical Lawyers.  
Physicians indeed turn and drive forth into the Superficies of the Body such Diseases, 
XVII. If there is any Disease in the State, he ought to conceal it, and cure it within.  as they are not able utterly to extirpate; but a Statesman, if he cannot keep a City altogether free from Disquiet, shall, concealing its Disturbance and Sedition, endeavour to cure and compose it, so as it may least stand in need of Physicians and Medicines from abroad. 
1. Remedies from without are dangerous.  For the Intention of a Statesman should be fixed upon the Public Safety, and shun, as has been said, the tumultuous and furious Motion of Vain-glory; and yet in his Disposition there should be Magnanimity, 

Iliad. c. 1.  And an undaunted Courage, as becomes  
The Men, who are for their dear Countreys Right  
prepared to Death 'gainst stoutest Foes to fight,  and[ bravely resolve, not only to hazard their Lives against the Assaults of invading Enemies, but also] to struggle with the most difficult Affairs, 
2. He must then act and speak freely.  and[ stem the Torrent of] the most dangerous and impetuous times. For as he must not himself be a Creator of Storms and Tempests, so neither must he abandon the Ship of the State, when they come upon it, and, as he ought not to raise Commotions, and drive it into Danger, so is he obliged, when it is tossed, and is in peril, to give it his utmost Assistance, casting forth from himself Freedom of Speech, as it were a sacred Anchor, when Affairs are at the greatest Extremity. Such were the Difficulties, that befell the Pergamenians under Nero, and the Rhodians lately under Domitian, and the Thessalians heretofore in the time of Augustus, when they burnt Petraeus alive.  You shall not in this Case demurring see, 
or starting back for fear any one, who is truly a Statesman, neither[ shall you find him] accusing others, and withdrawing himself out of Harms way; but[ you shall have him rather] going on Embassies, sailing[ to foreign Parts,] and saying first, not only, 
We're here Apollo, who the murder wrought,  
No longer plague our Country for our Fault,  but also ready to undergo Perils and Dangers for the Multitude, even thô he has not been at all partaker of their Crime. 
3. A Statesman should not desire to overlive his Countrys ruin.  For this indeed is a gallant Action, and besides its Honesty, one only Mans Virtue and Magnanimity has often wonderfully mitigated the Anger, conceived against a whole Multitude, and dissipated the Terror and Bitterness, with which they were threatened. Such an Influence with a King of Persia had the Deportment of Sperchis and Bulis, two noble Spartans, and equally prevalent was the Speech of Stheno with Pompey, when being about to punish the Mamertines for their Defection, he was  told by Stheno, that he would not act justly, if he should for one guilty Person destroy abundance of Innocents: for that he himself had caused the Revolt of the City by persuading his Friends, and forcing his Enemies[ to that Attempt.] This Speech did so dispose Pompey, that he both pardoned the City, and courteously treated Stheno. But Syllas Host, having used the like virtue towards an unlike Person, generously ended his Days. For when Sylla, having taken the City of Preneste, determined to put all the rest of the Inhabitants to the Sword, and to spare only him for the Hospitality,[ that had been between them,] he, saying, that he would not be indebted for his Preservation to the Destroyer of his country, thrust himself in amongst his Fellow Citizens, and was massacred with them.  
We ought therefore indeed to deprecate such times, as these, and hope for better things: 
XVIII. How he, that manages State affairs, is to converse with his Companions:  and should honor, as a great and sacred thing, every Magistracy and Magistrate. Now the mutual Concord and Friendship of Magistrates with one another is a far greater Honor of Magistracy, than their Diadems, and purple-garded Robes. Now those, who lay for a Foundation of Friendship their having been Fellow Souldiers, or having spent their Youth together, and take their being joint Commanders, or Co-Magistrates for a Cause of Enmity, cannot avoid[ being guilty of] one of these three Evils. For either regarding their Colleagues in Government, as their Equals, they brangle with them, or looking on them, as their Superiors, they envy them, or esteeming them their Inferiors, they despise them, whereas indeed one ought to court his Superior, advance his Inferior, honour his Equal, and love and embrace all, as having been made Friends, not by[ eating at the same] Table,[ drinking in the same] Cup, or[ meeting at the same solemn] Feast, but by a common and public Bond, and having in some sort an hereditary Benevolence, derived from their country. Scipio therefore was ill spoken of in Rome, for that making a Feast for his Friends at the Dedication of a Temple to Hercules, he invited not to it his Colleague Mummius: for thô in other things they took not one another for Friends, yet in such[ Occurrences, as these,] they should have[ mutually] honoured and caressed each other for the Sake of[ their common] Magistracy. If then the Omission of so small a Civility brought Scipio, who was otherwise an admirable Man, under a Suspicion of Arrogancy: how can he, who seek● to impair the Dignity of his Colleague, or to obfuscate the Lustre of his Actions, or thrô Insolency to draw and attribute all things to himself, taking them[ wholly] from his Companion, be esteemed reasonable and moderate? I remember, that, when I was yet but a young Man, being jointly with another sent on an Embassy to the Proconsul, and my Companion, I know not on what Occasion, stoping by the way, I went on alone, and performed the Affair. Now when at my return I was to render an account of my Charge, my Father, rising up privately, admonished me not to say, I went, but We went, nor I spake, but We spake, and so thrô all the rest to make my Report by associating my Companion, and rendering him a Sharer in my Actions. For this is not only decent and courteous, but also takes from Glory, what is offensive, that is, Envy. Whence[ it is, that] great[ Men generally] co-ascribe their most glorious Actions to their Daemon or Fortune, as did Timoleon, who, having destroyed the Tyrannies[ erected] in Sicily, consecrated a Temple to Chance, and Python, when, being admired and honoured by the Athenians, for having slain Cotys, he said, God did this, making use of my Hand. But Theopompus, King of the lacedæmonians, when one said that Sparta was preserved, because its Kings were well skilled in governing, replied: 'tis rather because the People are well versed in obeying.  
These two things then are effected by each other: yet most Men both say and think, 
XIX. Having commended those, who behave themselves modestly in their public Offices, he takes occasion from the Answer of King Theopompus to discourse on the Art of Government; showing, wherein it consists, to wit, in teaching all to obey well, and subject themselves to him, who commands.  that the Business of political Instruction is to render the People pliable to be governed. For there are in every City more governed than Governors, and every one, who lives in a Democracy, rules only a short time, but is subject all his Life, so that 'tis the most excellent and useful Lesson,[ we can learn;] to obey those, who are set over us, thô they are less furnished with Authority and Reputation. For 'tis absurd, that a Theodorus or a Polus, the principal Actor in a Tragedy, should often obey an hired Player, whose Part has not above three Words in it, and speak humbly to him, because he wears a Diadem and a sceptre; and that in real Actions, and in the Government of the State, a rich and mighty Man should undervalue and contemn a Magistrate,[ because] simplo and poor, injuring thus and degrading the Dignity of the Common-weal by his own, whereas he should rather by his Reputation and Authority have increased and advanced that of the Magistrate: As in Sparta the Kings rose up out of their Thrones to the Ephori, and whoever else were sent for by them, did not slowly obey, but running hastily, and with speed thrô the Forum, gave a Pattern of Obedience to their Fellow Citizens, whilst they gloried in honouring the Magistrates: not like to some illbred and barbarous Persons, who, priding themselves in the abundance of their Power, affront the Judges of the public Combats, revile the Directors of the Dances in the Bacchanals, and deride military Commanders, and those, that preside over the Exercises of Youth; neither knowing nor understanding, that to honor is sometimes more glorious than to be honoured. For to a Man of great Authority in a City his accompanying and attending on the Magistrate is a greater Grace, than if he were himself accompanied and attended on by him: or rather this indeed brings Trouble and Envy; but that real Glory, and such, as proceeds from[ Kindness and] Goodwill. And[ such a Man,] being seen sometimes at the Magistrates Door, and saluting him first, and giving him the middle Place[ or upper hand] in walking, does without taking any thing from himself, add Ornament to the City. 'tis also a popular thing,[ and wins greatly on the Multitude,] to bear[ patiently] the Reproaches and Indignation of a Magistrate, saying either with Diomedes, 
Iliad. l. 4.  Great Glory soon will follow this;— or this,[ which one sometime said] of Demosthenes: He is not now only Demosthenes, but a Lawgiver, or a Director of public Dances, or a wearer of a Diadem: let us therefore lay aside our Revenge for a time. For either we shall come upon him, when he is dismissed from his Office, or shall by delaying gain a Cessation of Anger.  
Indeed one should in Diligence, 
XX. He consequently treats of the Duty of good Subjects in a regulated State, and how they ought to help their Magistrates, and profit the public.  Providence, and Care for the public, always strive with every Magistrate, advising them, if they are gracious, and well behaved of such things as are requisite, and telling them, and giving them[ Opportunities to put in practise, or] to make use of such things, as have been rightly counselled, and helping them to advance the common Good; but if there is in them any Sloth, Delay, or ill Disposedness to Action, then ought one to go himself and speak to the People, and not to neglect or omit the public, on Pretence, that it becomes not one Magistrate to be curious, and play the Busy-body in another Province. For the Law always gives the first Rank in Government to him, 
1. Because the general Law autho●ises him who does, what is just.  who does, what is just, and knows, what is convenient. There was, says Xenophon, one in the Army, who was neither General, nor inferior Commander, but who by his Skill in what was fit, and Boldness in attempting, raising himself to command, preserved the Grecians. Now of all Philopoemens Gests this is the most illustrious, that, Ag●s having surprised Messena, and the General of the Achaians being unwilling, and fearful to go and rescue it, he, with some of the forwardest, Spirits, did, without[ expecting] a Commission, 
2. Yet on condition, that no Novelty be attempted, unless in C●ses of necessity or great importance.  make an Assault and recover it. Yet are not Innovations to be attempted on every light or trivial Occasion; but either in Cases of Necessity, as did Philopoemen, or for the performance of some honourable Action, as did Epaminondas, when he continued in the Boeotarchy 
The Office of ch●ef Magistrate amongst the Boeotians.  four Months longer than was allowed by the Law, during which he broke into Laconia, and performed the Actions about Messena. Whence, if any Complaint or Accusation shall on this Occasion happen, we may in our Defence against such Accusation, pled Necessity, or have the Greatness and Gallantry of the Action, as a Comfort for the Danger,[ we have been exposed to.]  

XXI. He returns to his Discourse, and contemning Jasons Tyrannical Saving, shows, in what things a Magistrate may gratify his People.  There is recorded a Saying of Jason, Monarch of the Thessalians, which he always had in his Mouth, when he outrag'd or molested any, that there is a Necessity for those to be unjust in small Matters, who will act justly in great ones. Now that Speech one may presently discern to be, a masterly one,[ proceeding from him, who would arrogate all Power to himself.] But more political is this Precept, to gratify the Populacy with the passing over small things, that we may oppose and hinder them, when they are like to offend in greater. For he, that will be exact and earnest in all things, never yielding or conniving, but always severe and inexorable, accustoms the People to strive obstinately, and behave themselves perversely towards him.  
But when the Waves beat high, 
1. By accommodating himself to little People, when the public Interest is not concerned.  the Helm should be  
A little slackened,—  
Sometimes by unbending himself, and sporting graciously with them, as in the[ celebrating of Festival] Sacrifices,[ assisting at public] Games, and[ being a Spectator on the] theaters, and sometimes by seeming neither to see nor hear, as we pass by the Faults of little Children in our Houses, that the Faculty of freely chastising and reprehending, being like a Medicine, not antiquated or debilitated by use, but having its full vigour and Authority, may more forcibly move and operate on the Multitude in matters of greater Importance. Alexander, being informed, that his Sister was too familiarly acquainted with a certain handsome young Man, was not displeased at it, but said, that she also must be permitted to have some Enjoyment of the Royalty; acting in such his Concession neither rightly, nor as beseem'd himself: for the Dissolution and Dishonouring of the State ought not to be esteemed an Enjoyment. But a[ good] Statesman will not to his Power permit the People to injure[ any private] Citizens, to confiscate[ unjustly] other Mens Estates, or to share the public Stock amongst them, but will by persuading, instructing, and threatening, oppugn such irregular Desires, by the feeding and increasing of which those, who were about clear, caused many a stinging Drone, as Plato says, to breed in the City. But if the Multitude, taking occasion from some[ solemn] Feast of the country, or the Veneration of some God, shall be inclined, either to exhibit some show, to make some small Distribution, to bestow some courteous Gratification, or to perform some other Magnificence, let them in such Matters have an Enjoyment both of their Liberality and Abundance. For there are many[ Examples of] such things in the Governments of Pericles and Demetrius: and Cimon adorned the Market-place by planting Rows of Plane-Trees, and making of Walks. Cato also, seeing the Populacy in the Time of Catilines Conspiracy put in a Commotion by Caesar, and dangerously inclined to[ make] a Change in the Government, persuaded the Senate to decree some Distributions of Money amongst the Poor, and this, being done, appeased the Tumult, and quieted the Sedition. 
2. By withdrawing them discreetly and with Sweetness from some great Danger. A fit Similitude.  For, as a Physician, having taken[ from his Patient] great store of corrupt Blood, gives[ him] a little innocent Nourishment: so a Statesman, having taken[ from the People] some great thing, which was either inglorious or prejudicial, does again by some small and courteous Gratuity still their morose and complaining humour. 'tis not amiss also dexterously to transfer, what is desired by the People, to other useful things, as Demades did, 
Examples.  when he had the Revenues of the City under his Management: For they, being bent to sand Galleys to the Assistance of those, who were in Rebellion against Alexander, and commanding him to furnish out Money for that purpose, he said to them: You have Money ready, for I have made Provision against the Bacchanals, that every one of you might receive half a Mna; but if you had rather have it employed this way, make use, as you please of your own. And by this means taking them off from sending the Fleet, lest they should be deprived of the Dividend, he kept the People from offending Alexander. For there are many prejudicial things, to which one cannot directly put a Stop, but must for that end make use of turning and winding: As did photion, when he was required at an unseasonable time to make an Incursion into Boeotia. For he immediately caused Proclamation to be made, that all from 
{αβγδ} from their Puberty.  fourteen years of Age to fixty, should[ prepare to] follow him, and when there arose upon it a Mutiny amongst the old Men, he said, There is no Hardship put upon you, for I, who am above fourscore years old, shall be your General. In this manner also is the sending of Ambassies to be put off, by joining in the Commission, such as are unprepared, and the raising of unprofitable Buildings, by bidding them contribute to it, and the following of undecent Suits, by ordering the Prosecutors to appear together, and go together from the Court. Now the Proposers and Inciters[ of the People] to such things are first to be drawn and associated for the doing of them: for so they will, either by their shifting it off, seem to break the Matter,[ themselves had proposed;] or by their accepting of it, have their Share in the Trouble.  

XXII. With what Persons the Magistrate ought to be accompanied in executing Affairs of Consequence.  But when some great and useful Matter, yet such, as requires much struggling and Industry, is to be taken in hand, endeavour to choose the most powerful of your Friends, or[ rather] the mildest of the most powerful: for they will least thwart you, and most cooperate with you, having Wisdom without a contentious humour. Nevertheless, thoroughly understanding your own Nature, you ought in that, for which you are naturally less fit, rather to make choice of such, as are of suitable Abilities, than of such, as are like yourself: As Diomedes, when he went[ forth] to spy, passing by the Valiant, took[ for his Companion] one, that was prudent[ and cautious.] For thus are Actions better counterpoised, and there is no Contention bread betwixt them, when they desire Honor from different virtues and Qualities. If therefore you are yourself no good Speaker, choose for your Assistant on the Bench, or your Companion in an Embassy, an eloquent Man, as Pelopidas did Epaminondas; if you are unfit to persuade and converse with the Multitude, being too high-minded for it, as was Cailicratidas, take one that is gracious and Courtly; if you are infirm of Body, and unable to undergo Fatigue, make choice of one, who is robust, and a Lover of labour, as Nicias did of Lamachus. For thus did Geryon become admirable, having many Legs, Hands, and Eyes, which were all governed by one Soul. But it is in the Power of Statesmen by conferring together, if they are unanimous, not only their Bodies and Wealth, but also their Fortunes, Authorities, and virtues, to one[ common] use, to perform the same Action with greater Glory than any other Person: not as did the Argonauts, who, having left Hercules, were necessitated to have recourse to Female Subtleties, and be subject to Enchantments and Sorceries, that they might save themselves, and steal away the Fleece.  
Men indeed entering into some Temples, 
XXIII. Of what Vices a Magistrate ought to ●●●o ●re. 1. Of Avarice.  leave their Gold without; but Iron, that I may speak in a Word, they never carry into any. Since then the Tribunal is a Temple, common to Jupiter the counselor, and Protector of Cities, to Themis[ or Equity,] and Dice[ or Justice,] from the very Beginning, before thou interest into it, stripping thy Soul of Avarice, and the Love of Wealth, cast them into the Shops of Bankers and Usurers, — And from them turn thyself, esteeming him, who heaps up Treasures by[ the Management of] public Affairs, to rob the Temples,[ plunder] Graves, and[ steal from] his Friends,[ and enriching himself] by Treachery, and bearing of false Witness, to be an unfaithful counselor, a perjured Judge, a Bribe-taking Magistrate, and in brief, free from no Injustice. Whence 'tis not necessary to say much concerning this Matter. Now Ambition, 
2. Of Ambition.  thô it is more specious than Covetousness, brings yet no less Plagues into a State. For it is[ usually] more accompanied with Boldness, as being bread, not in slothful and abject Spirits, but chiefly in such, as are vigorous and active; and the Vogue of the People, frequently extoling it, and driving it by their Praises, renders it thereby headstrong, and hard to be managed. 
A Remedy against Ambition.  As therefore Plato advised, that we should even from their Infancy inculcate into young People, that 'tis not fit for them to wear Gold about them abroad, nor yet to be Possessors of it, as having a peculiar[ Treasure] of their own, immixt with their Souls, enigmatically, as I conceive, insinuating the virtue, propagated into their Natures from the Race,[ or Stock, of which they are descended:] so let us also moderate our Ambition, by saying, that we have in ourselves uncorrupted Gold,[ that is,] Honour unmixed[ or sincere,] and free from Envy and Reprehension, which is still augmented by the Discourse and Contemplation of our Acts and Gests in the Service of the Common-weal: Wherefore we stand not in need of Honors painted,[ carved,] cast, or engraven in Brass, in which, what is most admired, frequently belongs to another. For[ the Statue of] a Trumpeter or Halbardier is not commended[ or esteemed] for[ the Sake of the Person,] whom it is made[ to represent,] but[ of the Workman,] by whom it is made. And Cato, when Rome was in a manner filled with Statues, would not suffer his to be erected, saying, I had rather, Men should ask, why my Statue is not set up, than why it is. For such things are subject to Envy, and the People think themselves obliged to those, who have not received them, whereas those, who have received them, are[ esteemed] burdensome, as seeking[ public] Employs for a Reward. For as he does no great or glorious Act, who, having without danger sailed along the[ Gulf] Syrtis, is afterwards cast away in the harbour: so he, who having kept himself safe in passing thrô the Treasury, and the[ Management of the] public Revenues, is caught with a Presidency, or a Place in the 
A Place in the Castle of Athens, where those, who had done the State any singular Service, had their Diet at the Cities Cost, which was an extraordinary Honor.  Prytanaeum, dashes indeed against an high Promontory, but is likewise drowned. He then is best, who desires none of these things, but shuns and refuses them all. But if perhaps it is not easy wholly to decline a favour or Testimonial of the Peoples Amity, when they are fully bent to bestow it, as on those, who have in the Service of the State contended not for Silver or Presents, but have fought a Fight truly sacred, and deserving a Crown, let an Inscription, a Tablet, a Decree, or a Branch[ of laurel or Olive] suffice, such, as Epimonides received out of the Acropolis[ or Castle of Athens] for having purified the City. So Anaxagoras, putting back the other Honors, that were given him, desired, that on the Day of his Death, the Children might have leave to play and intermit their Studies: and to the seven Persians, who killed the Magi, 'twas granted, that they and their Posterity should wear their Tiara,[ or turban] on the Fore part of the Head: for this, it seems, they had made the Signal, when they went about that Attempt. The Honor also, which Pittacus received, had something political: for being bid to take, what Portion he would, of the Land, he had gotten for his Citizens, he accepted as much, as he could reach with the Cast of his Dart: So Cocles the Roman, took as much, as he himself, being lame, could plow in a Day. For the Honor should not be a recompense of the Action, but an acknowledgement, that it may continue also long, as those did, which we have mentioned. But of the three hundred Statues, erected to Demetrius Phalereus, not one was eaten into by Rust, or covered with Filth, they being all pulled down, whilst himself was yet alive; and those of Demades were melted into[ Close-stool-pans and] Chamber-pots. Many other Honors also have undergone the like Fate, being regarded with an ill Eye, not only for the Wickedness of the Receiver, but also for the Greatness of the Gift. A Moderation in the expense is therefore the best and surest Preservative of Honors: for such as are great, immense and ponderous, are like to unproportion'd Statues, soon overthrown.  

XXIV. A Statesman should not despise Glory, or true Honor; and how he is to govern himself in that Respect.  Now I here call those Honors, which the People, Whose Right it is, so name; with them I speak, as Empedocles has it: since a wise Statesman will not despise true Honor and favour, consisting in the good Will and[ friendly] Disposition of those, who[ gratefully] remember[ his Services,] nor will he contemn Glory by shunning to please his Neighbours, as Democritus would have him. For neither is the Fawning of Dogs, nor the Affection of Horses to be rejected by Huntsmen and Jockeys, nay, it is both profitable and pleasant to breed in those Animals, which are brought up in our Houses, and live with us, such a Disposition towards ones self, as Lysimachus's Dog shew'd to his Master, and as the 
Homet.  Poet relates Achilles's Horses to have had towards Patroclus. And I am of Opinion, that Bees would fare better, if they would make much of those, who breed them, and look after them, and admit them to come near 'em, than they do by stinging them, and driving them away: for now they punish 'em by smothering 'em with smoke, but tame unruly Horses with[ sharp] Bits, and Dogs, that are apt to run away, by[ collaring them, and fastening them to] Clogs. But there is nothing, which renders one Man so obsequious and submissive to another, as the Confidence of his good Will, and the Opinion of his Integrity and Justice: wherefore Demosthenes rightly affirmed, that the greatest Preservative of States against Tyrants is Distrust. For that Part of the Soul, by which we believe, is most apt to be caught. As therefore Cassandra's Gift of prophesy was of no Advantage to the Citizens[ of Troy] who would not believe her.  

Apollo, who rendered her Prophesies unbeliev'd, because she refused him the Enjoyment, she had promised him, when he bestowed on her the Gift of prophesy.  The God ( she says) would have me to foretell  
Things unbeliev'd: for when the People well  
Have smarted, groaning under Pressures sad,  
They style me wise, till then they think me mad.  
So the Confidence the Citizens had in Archytas, and their good Will towards Battus, were highly advantageous to those who, would make use of them, thrô the[ good] Opinion, they had of them.  

XXV. The two principal Advantages, in which a Magistrate may glory, and by which he ought to think himself honoured, are: That the People confided in him; and that they love him, and wish him well.  Now the first greatest Benefit, which is in the Reputation of Statesmen, is the Confidence,[ that is had in them,] giving them an Entrance into Affairs: and the second is, that the good Will of the Multitude is an armour to the Good against those, that are envious and wicked: for, 
As when the careful Mother drives the Flies  
From her dear Babe, which sweetly sleeping lies,  it chaces away Envy, and renders the Plebeian equal in Authority to the Noble Man, the poor Man to the Rich, and the private Man to the Magistrates; and in a Word, when Truth and virtue are joined with it, 'tis a strange and favourable Wind,[ directly carrying Men] into Government. And[ on the other side] behold and learn by Examples the mischievous Effects of the contrary Disposition. 
Examples showing how prejudicial the ill Will of the People is to a Governor: and on the contrary, how serviceable their Amity.  For those of Italy slay the Wife and Children of Dionysius, having first violated and polluted them with their Lusts, and afterwards burning their Bodies, scattered the Ashes out of a Ship into the Sea. But when one Menander, who had reigned graciously over the Bactrians, died afterwards in the Camp, the Cities indeed by common Consent celebrated his Funeral; but coming to a Contest about his relics, they were difficultly at last brought to this Agreement, that his Ashes being distributed, every one of them should carry away an equal Share, and they should all erect Monuments to him. Again the Agrigentins, being got rid of Phalaris, made a Decree, that none should wear a blew Garment: for the Tyrants Attendants had blew Liveries. But the Persians, because Cyrus was Hawk-nos'd, do to this day love such Men, and esteem them handsomest. That is of all Loves the strongest and divinest, 
On what this good Will is to be grounded.  which is by Cities and States born to any Man for his virtue. But those false-nam'd Honors, and false Testimonials of Amity, which have their Rise from stage-plays, Largesses, and Fencings, are not unlike the Flatteries of Whores, the People always with Smiles bestowing an unconstant and short-lived Glory on him, that presents them, and gratifies them.  
He therefore, who first said, 
XXVI. Of the Magistrates Largesses to the People, and how they ought to be regulated.  the People were overthrown by him, which first bestowed Largesses on them, very well understood, that the Multitude lose their Strength, being rendered weaker by receiving. But these Bestowers must also know, that they destroy themselves, when purchasing Glory at great expenses, they make the Multitude haughty and arrogant, as having it in their Power to give and take away some very great Matter. Yet are we not therefore to act sordidly in the Distribution of Honorary Presents, when there is Plenty enough. For the People more hate a rich Man, who gives nothing of his own, than they do a poor Man, that robs the public[ Treasury,] attributing the former to Pride and a Contempt of them, but the latter to Necessity. 
1. Let the Magistrate make the largesse of his own, and without pretending to any recompense. 2. For an honest Occasion. 3. Without going in debt, and exposing himself to Derision.  First therefore let these Largesses be made gratis, for so they more oblige the Receivers, and strike them with Admiration: Then on some Occasion, that has an handsome and laudable Pretence, with the Honour of some God, wholly drawing the People to Devotion. For so there is at the same time bread in them a strong Apprehension and Opinion, that the Deity is great and venerable, when they see those, whom they honor, and highly esteem, so bountifully and readily expending their Wealth upon their Honor. As therefore Plato forbade young Men, who were to be[ liberally] educated, to learn the Lydian and Phrygian Harmony: one of which excites the mournful and melancholy part of our Soul; whilst the other increases its Inclination to Pleasure and sensual Delights: so do you, as much as possibly you can, drive out of the City all such Largesses, as either softer and cherish Brutality and Savageness, or Scurrility and Lasciviousness; and if that cannot be,[ at least] shun them, and oppose the Many, when they desire such Spectacles, always making the Subjects of your expenses useful and modest, having for their End, what is good and necessary, or at least what is pleasant and acceptable, without any Prejudice or Injury. But if your Estate is but indifferent, and by its Center and Circumference confined to your necessary use, 'tis neither ungenerous nor base to confess your Poverty, and give place to such, as are provided for those honorary expenses, and not, by taking up Money on Usury, to render yourself at the same time both miserable and ridiculous by such Services. For they, whose Abilities fall short, cannot well conceal themselves, being compelled either to be troublesome to their Friends, or to court[ and flatter] Usurers, so that they get not any Honor or Power, 
Notable Examples to this purpose.  but rather shane and Contempt by such expenses. 'tis therefore always useful on such Occasions, to call to mind Lamachus and photion. For photion, when the Athenians at a solemn Sacrifice called upon him, and often importuned him to give them something, said to them: I should be ashamed to give to you, and not pay this Callicles: pointing to an Usurer, who was standing by. And as for Lamachus, he always put down in his Bill of Charges, when he was General, the Money laid out for his shoes and coat. And to Hermon, when he refused the Undertaking of an Office because of his Poverty, the Thessalians ordained a Puncheon of Wine a Month, and a Bushel and an half of Meal every four Days. 'tis therefore no shane to confess ones Poverty, nor are the Poor in Cities of less Authority than those, who feast and exhibit public shows, if they have but gotten Freedom of Speech and Reputation by their virtue.  
A States-man ought therefore chiefly to moderate himself on such Occasions, 
XXVII. That the People must not be managed by superfluous expenses, but by virtue, Prudence, and Eloquence.  and neither being himself on foot, go into the Field against well-mounted Cavaliers, nor being himself poor, vie with those, that are rich, about Race-matches, theatrical Pomps, and[ magnificent] Tables[ and Banquets;] but[ should rather strive to be like] those, who endeavour to manage the City by virtue and Prudence, always joined with Eloquence; in which there is not only Honesty and Venerableness, but also a Gracefulness and Attractiveness, Far more to be desired than Craesus's Wealth. For a good Man is neither insolent nor odious, nor is a discreet Person singularly self-conceited, 
Nor with a severe look walks he amongst  
His Fellow Citizens;—  but is[ on the contrary] first courteous, 
A curious Description of a Statesman, who has Honor and Duty in Recommendation.  affable, and of easy access to all, having his House always open, as a Port of Refuge to those, that will make use of him, and showing his Care and Kindness, not only[ by being assistant] in the Necessities and Affairs[ of those, that have recourse to him,] but also by condoling with those, that are in Adversity, and[ congratulating and] rejoicing with such, as have been successful; neither is he troublesome or offensive by the Multitude[ and Train] of domestics,[ attending him] at the Bath, or by taking up of Places on the theaters, nor remarkable by things, invidious for their Luxury and Sumptuousness; but equal and like to others in his Cloths, Diet, Education of his Children, and the Garb and Attendance of his Wife, as desiring in his Comportment and Manner of Living to be like the rest of the People: then he exhibits himself an intelligent counselor, an unfeed Advocate, and courteous Arbitrator between Men and their Wives, and Friends at variance amongst themselves; not spending a small part of the Day for the Service of the Common-weal at the Tribunal, or in the Hall of Audience, and employing all the rest, and the whole Remainder of his Life, in drawing to himself from every sort Negotiations and Affairs, as the northeast Wind, called Caecias, does the Clouds; but always employing his Cares on the public, and reputing Polity[ or the Administration of the State] as a busy and active Life, and nor, as 'tis commonly thought, an easy and idle Service; he does by all these, and such like things turn and draw the Many, who see, that all the Flatteries and Enticements of others are but spurious and deceitful Baits,[ when compared] to his Care and Providence. The Flatterers indeed of Demetrius vouchsafed not to give the other[ Potentates of his Time, amongst whom Alexanders Empire was divided,] the Title of Kings; but styled Seleucus Master of the Elephants, Lysimachus Treasurer, Ptolomaeus Admiral, and Agathocles governor of the Isles. 
What Opinion those Men incur, who in Matters of Government are guided by any other Affection, than that of the public.  But the Multitude, thô they may at the beginning reject a good and prudent Man, yet coming afterwards to understand his Veracity, and[ the Sincerity of his] Disposition, esteem him only to be a States-man, a public spirited Person, and a Magistrate; and of the others, they think and call one a Dancing-master, a second a Feaster, and a third a Master of the Exercises. Moreover, as at the Banquets made by Callias, or Alcibiades, Socrates only is heard, and to Socrates all Mens Eyes are directed: so in[ sound and] healthy States Ismenias bestows Largesses, Lichas makes Suppers, and Niceratus gives Masks[ or interludes;] but 'tis Epaminondas, Aristides, and Lysander, that govern, manage the State, and led forth the Armies. Which if any one considers, he ought not to be dejected or amazed at the Glory, gotten amongst the People from theaters, Banqueting Halls, and public Buildings: since it lasts but a short time, being at an end, as soon as the Prizes and Plays are over, and having in them nothing honourable or worthy of Esteem.  

XXVIII. Of Seditions and civil Wars, and how a good Magistrate ought to govern himself in them.  Those, that are verst in the Keeping and Breeding of Bees, look on that Hive to be healthiest and in best Condition, where there's most Humming, and which is fullest of Bustle and Noise; but he, to whom God has committed the Care of the rational and political Hive, reputing the Felicity of the People to consist chiefly in Quietness and tranquillity, will receive, and to his Power imitate the rest of Solons Ordinances; but will doubt and wonder, what it was, that induced him to decree, that he, who, when there arises a Sedition in the City, adheres to neither Party, should be reputed infamous. 
1. He ought not to join with one Party to ruin the other.  For in the Body the Beginning of its Change from Sickness to Health is not wrought by the Parts, that are infected with the Disease; but when the Temperature of such Parts, as are sound, growing powerful, drives away what is contrary to Nature: and in a State, where the People are disturbed by a Sedition, not dangerous and mortal, but which will after a while be[ composed and] allayed, 'tis of necessity, that there be a Mixture of much, that is uninfected and sound, and that it continue and cohabit in it. For thither flows from the Wise, what is fit[ and natural,] and passes into the Part, that is diseased. But when Cities are in an universal Commotion, they are in danger of being utterly destroyed, unless being constrained by some Necessity and Chastisement from abroad, they are by the Force of their Miseries reduced to Wisdom. Yet does it not become you in[ the time of] a Sedition to sit, as if you were neither sensible nor sorry, praising your own Unconcernedness, as a quiet and happy Life, and taking delight in others Errors. 
2. He ought to speak to both Parties, without joining with either, to help them in common, and bring them to Agreement. 3. He ought to prevent Sedition.  But on such Occasions chiefly should you put on the Buskin of Theramenes, and conferring with both Parties, join yourself to neither. For you will not seem a Stranger by not being a Partaker in Injustice, but a common Friend to them all by your Assistance; nor will you be envied for your not sharing in the Calamity, when you appear equally to condole with every one of them. But the best is by your providential Care to prevent the arising of any Sedition, and in this consists the greatest and most excellent Point, as it were, of the Political Art. For you are to consider, that the greatest Benefits, a City can enjoy, being Peace, Liberty, Plenty, abundance of Men, and Concord, the People have at this time no need of Statesmen for the procuring of Peace: since all War, whether with Greeks or Barbarians, is wholly taken away, and banished from us. As for Liberty, the People have as much, as the Emperors think fit to grant them, and more perhaps would not be expedient. Now such is the unenvy'd Plenty of the Earth, and the kind Temper of the Seasons, that being seen by a prudent Man, as also, 
How Wives by bringing forth like Children make  
Their Husbands happy,—  He will have nothing more to do, but to beg of the Gods the Preservation and safety of what is born and produced to his Fellow-Citizens.  

XXIX. The last Instruction he gives to him, who manages State Affairs, is, that he procure the Continuance of Peace and Union amongst his Fellow-Citizens.  There remains therefore to a Statesman, of all those things that are subject to his Charge, this alone, which is inferior to none of the other Benefits, the keeping of those who are Co-inhabitants[ of the same City,] in perpetual Concord and Friendship, and the taking away of all Contentions, Animosities, and Heart-burnings. In which he shall, as in the Differences between Friends, so converse with the Party appearing to be most injured, as if he himself seemed also a Sharer in the Injury, and equally offended at it: endeavouring afwards so to appease him, by showing him, how much those, who pass by Injuries, excel such, as strive to contend and conquer, not only in good Nature and Sweetness of Disposition, but also in Prudence and Magnanimity; and that by remitting a little of their Right in small Matters, they get the better in the greatest and most important. He shall afterwards admonish them both in general and apart, instructing them in the Weakness of the graecian Affairs, which 'tis better for intelligent Men to enjoy, and to live in Peace and Concord, than to engage in a Contest, for which Fortune has left no Reward. For what Authority, what Glory is there remaining for the Conquerors? What Power is there, which the least Decree of a Proconsul cannot abolish, or transfer elsewhere; and which, thô it should continue, would not yet have any thing worth our Pains? But since, 
A Similitude showing the Source of most Seditions and Civil Wars.  as a Conflagration[ in a Town] does not frequently begin in sacred and public Places; but a Lamp[ or Candle] negligently left in an House, or the burning of a little Trash or Rubbish, raises a great Fire, and works a common Mischief: so Sedition in a State is not always kindled by Contentions about public Affairs; but oftentimes the Differences, arising from private Concerns and Jangles, being propagated into the public, have disturbed a whole City: 
What Remedies are to be applied to them.  'tis no less becoming a Statesman to remedy and prevent also these: so that some of them may never have any Being, others may be quickly extinguished, and others hindered from receiving Increase, or taking hold of the public, and confined amongst the Adversaries themselves. And as himself ought to take care for this, so should he advertise others, that private Disturbances are the Occasion of public ones, and little of great ones, if they are neglected, and suffered to proceed without taking care to apply fit Remedies to them in the Beginning. 
A notable Example in Crates.  In this manner is the greatest[ and most dangerous] Disturbance, that ever happened in Delphi, said to have been occasioned by Crates, whose Daughter Orgilaus, the Son of Phalis, being about to mary, it happened, that the Cup, they were to use in the Espousals, broke asunder of itself, which he taking for an ill Omen, left his Bride, and went away with his Father. Crates a little after, charging them with taking away a certain golden Vessel, used in the Sacrifices, caused Orgilaus and his Brother, unheard, to be precipitated from the Top of a Rock to the Bottom, and afterwards slay several of their most intimate Friends, as they were at their Devotions in the Temple of Providence. After many such things were perpetrated, the Delphians, putting to Death Crates and his Companions in the Sedition, of their Estates, which they called Excommunicated, built the Temples in the lower part of the Town. 
Another Example of two Syracusians.  In Syracuse also there were two young Men, betwixt whom there was an extraordinary Intimacy, one of which, having taken into his Custody his Friends Catamite, vitiated him in his Absence. The other at his Return, by way of Retaliation, debauched his Companions Wife. Then one of the ancient Senators, coming into the Council, proposed the banishing of them both, before the City was ruined by their filling it with Enmity,[ and engaging it in Factions] on their Account. Yet did not he prevail, but a Sedition, arising on this Occasion, by very great Calamities overturned a most excellently constituted Common-weal. You have also a Domestical Example in the Enmity between Pardalus and Tyrrhenus, which wanted little of destroying Sardis by embroiling it in Revolt and War on little and private Differences. 
He concludes from the forementioned Examples, that the Beginnings of Evils must be prevented and extinguished betimes, teaching the Means to attain easily to this.  A Statesman therefore is not to slight the little Offences and Heart-burnings, which, as[ Diseases] in a Body, pass speedily from one to another, but to take them in hand, suppress, and cure them. For as Cato says, by Attention and Carefulness great Matters are made little, and little ones reduced to nothing. Now there is no better Artifice of indulging Men to this, than the showing himself easily pacified in his own private Differences, persisting without rancour in Matters of the first importance, and managing none with Obstinacy, contending Wrath, or any other Passion, which may work Sharpness or Bitterness in necessary Disputes. For as they bind certain round Muffles about the Hands of those, who combat at Buffets, that in their Contests there may not arrive any fatal Accident, the Blows being soft, and such, as can do no great Harm: So in such Suits and Processes with ones Fellow Citizens, 'tis best to manage the Dispute by making use of pure and simplo Pretences, and not by sharpening and empoisoning Matters, as if they were Weapons, with Calumnies, Malice, and Threats, to render them pernicious, great and public. For he, who in this manner carries himself with those, with whom he has Affairs, will have others also subject to him. But Contentions about public Matters, where private Grudges are taken away, are soon appeased, and bring no difficult or fatal Mischiefs.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Whether 'vice is sufficient to render a Man unhappy.  Translated out of the Greek by the Same Hand. 
THô this Tract is so defective both in the Beginning and End, that they cannot even to this present be so much as guessed at; yet the Title and Fragment, we have left, sufficiently discover the Authors Intention. Now as by the Ruins of an old Regal Palace our Imagination does in some sort represent to us, how beautiful it was, whilst it stood entire: so this little Remnant suffices to show the greatness of our Loss. But thô the Injury of time has deprived us of this Benefit, and many others of like Nature; yet this Remainder, as unperfect as it is, may be profitable to us, and serve to put us in mind of our Duty. Our Author, having in the Beginning described the Misery of a covetous Person, and of a Courtier, adds in prosecution of his principal Design, that 'vice is the absolute Effecter of Infelicity, having need of no Instruments or Servants, to render a Man miserable: whence he collects, that there is no Danger or Calamity, which we ought not rather to choose, than to be vicious. He afterwards answers the Objections, made to the contrary, and concludes, that no Adversity can prejudice us, if it be not accompanied with 'vice.  

The Beginning is lost.  
HE suffers much, 
I. The Misery of the Covetous.  who for a Dowry has  
His Body sold,—  
As Euripides says, for he gets but small Matters by it, and those very uncertain. But to him, who passes not thrô much Ashes, but thrô a certain regal Pile of Fire, being perpetually short-breathed, full of Fear, and bathed in Sweat by his crossing the Seas too and fro, she gives at last a certain Tantalian Wealth, which he cannot enjoy by reason of the continual Turmoil, that encumbers him. For that Sicyonian Horse-courser was well advised, who presented the 
Agamemnon.  King of the Achaians with a swift-footed mere, That to proud Iliums Siege he might not go, But stay at Home, and take his Pleasure, wallowing in the Depth of his Riches, and giving himself up to an unmolested Ease.  
But those, 
II. The Miseries of Courtiers.  who now seem to be without Trouble, and Men of Action, do, without being called to it, thrust themselves headlong into the Courts of Princes, where they must be obliged to tedious attending and watching, that they may gain an Horse, a Chain, or some such blessed favour.  
In the mean time the Wife, of Joy bereft,  
Sits tearing her fair Cheeks, the House is left  
Imperfect, and half built.—  
Whilst the Husband is drawn and hurried about, wandring amongst others, allured by Hopes, of which he is often disappointed, suffering Disgrace and shane. But if he happens to obtain any of those things, he so eagerly desires, after he has been turned about, and made dizzy with being Fortunes sport, he seeks a Dismission, and declares those to be happy, who live obscure and safe; whilst they in the mean time have the same Opinion of him, whom they see mounted so far above them.  

III. 'vice is the most detestable Tyrant in the World.  So absolutely does 'vice dispose of all Men, being such a self-sufficient Worker of Infelicity, that it has no need either of Instruments or Servants. Other Tyrants, endeavouring to render those Men miserable, whom they punish, maintain Executioners and Tormentors, device Searing-Irons and Racks, to plague the reasonless Soul. But 'vice without any Preparation of Engines, as soon as it enters into the Soul, torments and dejects it, filling a Man with Grief, Lamentations, Sorrow and Repentance. For a Sign, that this is so, you may observe, that many, being cut, are silent, being scourged, take it patiently, and being racked and tormented by their Lords and Tyrants, sand not forth the least shriek, since the Soul, repressing the Voice by Reason, restrains and keeps it in as with the Hand; but you will scarce ever be able to quiet Anger, or to silence Sorrow, nor can you persuade one, that is in a Fright, to stand still, or one, that is stung with Remorse of Conscience, to forbear exclaiming, tearing his Hair, and smiting his Thigh: so much is 'vice more violent than either Fire or Sword.  
Cities, 
IV. That there is no Danger or Calamity, which a Man ought not rather to choose, than to let himself be a Slave to 'vice.  when by fixing up of Writings they publish their Intention of building Temples, or erecting 
Statues or Monuments of an excessive height and bigness.  Colossuses, hear the Proposals of different Artists, contending about the Undertaking of the Work, and bringing in their Accounts and Models: after which they choose him, who will perform it best, quickest, and with the least expense. Now imagine, that we also set forth a Proclamation of a Purpose to make a wretched Man, or a miserable Life, and that Fortune and 'vice come with differing Proposals to offer their Service for the Performance of this Design. The one( to wit, Fortune,) is provided with abundance of various Instruments, and costly Furniture for to render human Life miserable and unhappy: She draws after her Robberies, Wars, the murders of Tyrants, Storms from the Sea, and Lightnings from the Air; She mixes Poisons, brings in Swords, hires Slanders, kindles fevers, jingles Shackles, and builds up Prisons round about; although most of these things are rather from 'vice than Fortune. But let us suppose them to be all from Fortune; and let 'vice, standing naked, and wanting no exterior thing against Man, ask Fortune, how she will make a M●n unhappy and heartless. 
Examples of such, as have despised all Calamities and even Death itself, rather than they would act against their Duty.  Fortune, let her say, dost thou threaten Poverty? Metrocles laughs at thee, who, sleeping in the Winter amongst the Sheep, and in the Summer in the Porches of the Temples, challenged the King of the Persians, that wintered in Babylon, and passed the Summer in Media, to by with him for Happiness. Dost thou bring on Servitude, Bonds, and the being sold for a Slave? Diogenes contemns thee, who being exposed to sale by Pirates, cried out, Who will buy a Master? Dost thou brew a Cup of Poison? Didst thou not offer such an one to Socrates? And yet he mildly and meekly, without trembling, or changing either Colour or Countenance, drank it briskly up; whilst those, who survived, esteemed him happy, as one, that would not be even in the other World without a Divine Portion. Moreover, as for thy Fire, Decius the Roman General prevented it, when having caused a great Fire to be made in the midst between two Armies, he sacrificed himself to Saturn according to a Vow, made for the aggrandizing of the Romans Dominion. And amongst the Indians such chast Wives, as are true Lovers of their Husbands, strive and contend with one another for the Fire, and all the rest sing forth the Happiness of her, who, having obtained the Victory, is burnt with her deceased Husband. And of the Sages in those Parts there is not one esteemed an holy and most blessed Man, if he did not, whilst he was yet living, and in the perfect Enjoyment of his Health and Understanding, separate by Fire his Soul from his Body, and purging away, what was mortal, depart pure out of the Flesh.  

V. An Answer to the ●bj●ctions of such, as had rather be Slaves to 'vice, than fall into any temporal Calamity: to wit, that external Miseries only hurt the Wicked.  But thou wilt reduce one from great Wealth, a stately House, a well furnished Table, and abundance of all things, to a threadbare Coat, a Wallet, and the Begging of his daily Food. These things were to Diogenes the Beginnings of Happiness, and to Crates of Liberty and Glory. But thou wilt perhaps fasten one to the across, or impale him on a Stake. Now what cares Theodorus, whether 'tis above or under Ground, that he putrefies? These were the happy Sepultures of the Scythians: and amongsts the Hircanians Dogs, amongst the Bactrians Birds, did according to the Laws, devour the dead Bodies of those, who made a blessed End. Whom then do these things render unhappy? The unmanly and irrational, the ill educated and unexercis'd, with such, as retain the foolish and frightful Opinions, they received in their Infancy.  
Fortune then does not perfectly produce Infelicity, 
VI. That Adversity is not prejudicial, unless accompanied by 'vice: Illustrated by several Similitudes.  unless it has 'vice to co-operate with it. For as a thread will cut in sunder a Bone, that has been steeped in Ashes and Vinegar, and as Workmen bend and fashion Ivory, as they please, after it has been softened and rendered pliable by Beer, when it is otherwise inflexible: so Fortune coming upon that, which is already ill affencted of itself, and rendered soft by 'vice, pierces into it and hollows it. And as the 
What this Word {αβγδ} should in this place signify, I must with Xylander, who leaves it, as I have done, untranslated, profess myself wholly at a Loss. The old Translator, who, as he says, renders it by Externum alieno caetui se admiscentem, gives me no satisfaction: Amyot in French, and Holland in English, put in its stead Pharicum, a poison mentioned by Dioscorides, in his Sixth Book De Alexipharmicis; but this Reading is overthrown by the Adjectives joined with it, which are all Masculine.  Paroecus, thô hurtful to no other, nor any way prejudicing those, who touch it, or bear it about them, if any one, who is wounded, is but brought into the Place, where it is, immediately kills him, being already by his Wound pre-dispos'd to receive the Defluxion: so the Soul, which is to be overthrown by Fortune, must have in itself some Ulcer of its own, and some Malady within its Flesh, that it may render those Accidents, which come from abroad, miserable and lamentable. Is then 'vice also such, that it should stand in need of Fortunes help for the working of Infelicity? Whence then does the Sea swell with Storms and Tempests? She besets not the deserts, lying at the Feet of the Mountains, with Robbers, she pours not down Storms of Hail on the fruitful Fields, she raises not up Melitus, Anytus, and Callixenus, to be Calumniators, she takes not away Wealth, she hinders not any from the Command of Armies, that she may make them unhappy; but she renders them rich, abounding in Wealth, having great Inheritances on the Earth, she bears them Company at Sea, she sticks close to them, pining them with Lusts, imflaming them with Wrath, overwhelming them with Superstitions, drawing them by their Eyes.  The rest is wanting.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Whether the Passions of the Soul, or[ Diseases] of the Body are worse.  Translated out of the Greek by the Same Hand. 
HOmer, 
I. M●n the most miserable of all Animals, and what are his most dangerous M●ladies.  having contemplated the various Kinds of mortal Animals, and compared them one with another, in respect to their Lives, and the Entertainments of them, cried out: 

Iliad. l. 17.  Of all, that breath, or creep on Earth, there can  
No Creature be more wretched found than Man:  Attributing to Man that unhappy Primacy of having the Superiority in Miseries. But we,[ considering] Man, as having already gained the Victory for Infelicity, and being publicly declared the most miserable of all Animals, will compare him with himself in a Contention about his own Calamities, not unprofitably, but even altogether necessary dividing his Soul from his Body: that we may thence learn, whether we live more miserable in regard of our Souls, or of ourselves,[ that is, our Bodies.] For Sickness is indeed engendered in the Body by Nature; but 'vice and Malice in the Soul is first its Work, afterward its Passion. Now 'tis of no small Advantage towards Content of Mind, if that, which is the worse, is curable, and that lighter, 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}. II. The Maladies of the Soul are more dangerous than those of the Body.  which is unavoidable.  
The Fox in Aesop, disputing with the Panther for[ the Superiority in beautiful] Variety, when this[ latter] had shown his Body, and its Superficies, curiously stained and spotted, whereas the Foxes tawny Skin was ill favoured, and unpleasant to the Sight, said thus: But if you, 
1. They are more numerous, and very various.  Sir Judge, will look within me, you will find me much fuller of Variety than this Leopard: manifesting the nimble subtlety of his natural Disposition, frequently changing, as occasions require. Let us then say, also to ourselves: Thy Body, O Man, naturally of itself breeds many Diseases and Passions, and[ many] it receives, befalling it from without; but if thou shalt open thy Interior, thou will find a certain various, and abundantly-furnisht Store-house, and, as Democritus says, Treasury of Evils, not flowing into it from abroad, but having, as it were, their inbred and original Springs, which 'vice, exceedingly affluent, 
2. They do not make known and discover themselves, as those of the Body.  and rich in Passions, causes to break forth. Now whereas the Diseases in the Flesh are discerned by[ the Beating of] the Pulses, and the Flushings in the colour[ of the Skin,] and discovered by[ unusual] Heats, and sudden Pains; and these Maladies of the Soul ly hide from many who are affencted with them, these are therefore worse, as removing from them the Sense of the Patient. For the Discourse of Reason being sound, is sensible of the Bodies Diseases; but being itself diseased with those of the Soul, has no judgement in what it suffers: for it suffers by what it judges. We ought therefore to account, 
3. They are incurable, because that which should discover them, is most concerned.  that the first and greatest of the Souls Diseases, is Folly, by which 'vice, being rendered incurable, cohabits, lives and dies together with many. For the beginning of the Cure is the Sense of the Disease, leading the Patient to the Use, of what is helpful; but he, who thrô his not believing himself Sick, is ignorant of his own Necessities, thô a Remedy is presented him, refuses it. For also amongst the Diseases of the Body, those are indeed the worst, which are accompanied with a Stupefaction of the Senses, as Lethargies, Head-achs, Epilepsies, Apoplexies, and those burning fevers, which, carrying on the Inflammation even to the Loss of the Wits, and disturbing the Senses, as it were, in a Musica● Instrument, Move the Hearts Strings, till then untouched.  
Wherefore the Physicians do in the first place indeed desire, 
III. An Amplification of the Miseries attending the Diseases of the Soul.  that a Man should not be sick, and next, that being sick, he should not be ignorant, that he is so: which nevertheless befalls all the Diseases of the Soul. For neither those, who are mad, those, that are lascivious, nor those, who act unjustly, think, that they sin; nay some of them[ are on the contrary persuaded, 
1. Those, who are so affencted, have their judgement overturned. ] even that they do well. Never yet did any Man call a fever Health, a Consumption a good Constitution of Body, the Gout Swift-footedness, or the Wanness of the Face a fresh Colour; but many[ there are, who] term Anger Courage,[ unchaste] Love Amity, Envy Emulation, and Cowardice Cautiousness[ or Discretion. 
2. They shun the Remedy. ] Moreover, those,[ who are troubled with corporal Sickness,] sand for Physicians, for they are sensible, what they stand in need of for[ the Cure of] their Diseases; but these,[ who are sick in Mind.] shun Philosophers,[ and such discreet Persons, whose advices tend to reclaim them:] because they think themselves to act excellently in those very things, in which they most offend. In this then making use of our Reason, we affirm, that the Blearness or Soreness of the Eyes is a less[ Malady] than Madness, and the Gout in the Feet than a frenzy[ in the Brain:] for in the one a Man is sensible of his Distemper, and crying out, calls for the Physician, to whom, when he is come, he shows his Eye to be anointed, stretches out his Vein to be opened, and gives up his Head to be cured; but[ on the contrary] you hear Agave, when seized with Madness, thrô[ the Violence of her] Passion, not knowing the dearest[ Pledges of her Womb, to cry out,] 

Euripides in his Tragedy of the Bac●hantes.  From the Hills Top into the Plain,  
Bring me this young Fawn, newly slain,  
Which happily's become our Prey.  For he, who is sick in Body, presently yielding, and betaking himself to his Bed, lies there quiet, till he is cured; and if the Accession of some violent hot Fit makes him a little tumble and toss his Body, any one of those, who are by, saying to him, lie still at ease, poor Wretch, keep in thy Bed, easily stays and retains him; but those[ on the other side,] who are surprised with the Passions of the Soul, are then most active, then least at quiet: for the Impulses of the Mind are the Beginnings[ or principal Causes] of Actions, and Passions the violent Fits of[ such] Impulses. Wherefore they suffer not the Soul to be at rest, but when a Man has most need of Patience, Silence, and Retirement, then is he drawn forth into the Light, then is he[ chiefly] discovered by his choleric Humors, his Eagerness in contending, his[ dishonest] Loves, and his[ heart-breaking] Sorrows, which force him to commit many irregular[ Actions,] and speak[ many Words,] unsitting for the Times.  
As therefore that Storm, 
IV. The Conclusion showing by an excellent Similitude, that the Diseases of the Soul are incomparably more dangerous than those of the Body.  which hinders a Ship from entering into the Port, is more dangerous than that, which suffers it not to sail: so the Tempests of the Soul are more difficult, which permit not a Man to restrain himself, nor to settle his disturbed Reason; so that being without Pilot or Cables, he is thrô Tumult and Deceit, hurried headlong by rash and pernicious Courses, till he falls into some terrible shipwreck, where he casts away his Life. So that also for these Reasons 'tis worse to be sick in Soul, than Body: for to the one it happens only to suffer, but to the other both to suffer and do amiss. And what need is there to reckon up many Passions? This very neck of Time is a[ sufficient] Remembrance. Do you see this vast and promiscuous Multitude, here crowding and thrusting each other about the 
The Bench, on which the Judges sate.  Tribunal and 
The Hall, or Place, where the Courts of Judicature were kept.  Forum? They are not assembled to sacrifice to their country Gods, nor to participate together in the same sacred Ceremonies: They are not come to offer up to Jupiter Ascraeus the First of the Lydian Fruits, nor to celebrate the Solemnities of Bacchus by the Observance of Festival Nights, and common Revellings; but the Force of the Disease, as it were by yearly Revolutions, irritating Asia, drives them hither to manage their Processes and Suits at Law: and a Multitude of Affairs, as it were of impetuous Torrents, fall into one place, where they grow hot, and the Contests are eagerly prosecuted, both by those, that destroy, and that are destroyed. Of what fevers? of what Agues are these the Effects? What Instances, what Accidents, what Distemperature of Heat, what Superfusion of Humors[ produces them?] Should you ask every Cause, as if it were a Man, whence it had its Original, whence it proceeded; you would find, that audacious Anger generated one, furious Obstinacy another, and unjust Covetousness a third.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Which are the most crafty; Water-Animals or those Creatures that breed upon the Land.  Translated from the Greek by John Phillips, Gent. 
Autobulus, LEonidas being asked the question what he thought of Tyrtaeus? Made answer, that he was a good Poet to beautify and adorn the Minds of young Men: As a Person who by the vigour and Spirit of his Poetical Raptures kindled that wrathful indignation, and ambition of honour which emboldened them in combat to the contempt of death and danger. Which makes me afraid, my dearest Friends, least the Encomium of Hunting, Yesterday recited, may have inflamed our young Gentlemen beyond the bounds of moderation, so as to deem all other things Fruitless and of little worth, while they Randevouze from all Parts to this Exercise. So much the rather, because I myself, when I was but very young even beyond the strength of my Age, seemed to be more then became me addicted to this sport, and to be over desirous with Phaedra in Euripides, 
With Hounds and Horn and merry Hollow,  
The spotted Hart and Hind to follow.  So did that discourse affect me, fortified with many and probable Arguments.  
Soclares. You say very truly, Autobulus. For that same Poet seems to me to have awakened the force of rhetoric for a long time lulled a sleep, to gratify the inclinations of the Youthful Gentry, and to make himself their Spring Companion. But I am most pleased with him for introducing the Example of single Combatants, from whence he chiefly takes occasion to Praise the sport of Hunting, as being that which for the most part drawing to its self whatever is natural in us, or what we have by use acquired, to that delight in Men to fight with single Weapons one against another, affords an evident prospect of Artifice and daring courage endowed with understanding, and encountering brutish force and strength: Applauding that of Euripides, 
Small is the Nerveless Strength of feeble Man,  
Yet through the cunning of his reaching Brain,  
By various sleights and sundry Stratagems:  
What ever Land or th' Ocean breeds, he Tames.   
Autobulus. And hence it was, as they say, my dearest Soclares, that Men at first became insensible and inhuman, having once tasted of murder, and being accustomed by Hunting and following the Chase, not only to behold without remorse the Wounds and Blood of Wild Beasts, but to rejoice at their being killed and slaughtered. Afterwards as at Athens, some Sycophant was by the Thirty Tyrants set a part for death, as a proper object of Capital punishment, then a Second and a Third; then proceeding by degrees, they seized upon good Men, and at length spared not the best and most worthy Citizens; in like manner the first that slay a Bear or a Wolf, obtained applause. Then the ox and Hog were appointed to be killed, under pretence of having tasted the sacred Things that lay before them. Next to them dear, Hares and Goats were made use of for Food, and in some places the Flesh of Sheep, Dogs and Horses grew familiar to human taste. The tame Goose also and Pigeon, Mans familiar Domestic, according to Sophocles, not for nourishment or to assuage hunger, as Cats and Weesels; but to indulge voluptuous Appetites were dressed and mangled to pieces: Which gave strength and vigour to whatever was in Nature Blood thirsty and Savage, and rendering the disposition of Man inflexible to pity, had almost eras'd out of his Breast whatever was inclinable to humanity and mildness. Whereas on the other side the Pythagoreans, that they might accustom Men to the Love of humanity and compassion, still inculcated into their minds, a particular care of being mildred and gentle towards Beasts. For there is nothing more powerful then custom to win upon the wild affections of Man, and to draw him from extremity to moderation. But I know not how it comes to pass, that being entered into this discourse, we have not only forgot the Subject we were Yesterday upon, but what we had also this day agreed to make the Theme of our Colloquy. For Yesterday, as well you know, having thrown out a Proposition, that all Creatures were in some manner partakers of Understanding and Reason, we gave an occasion to our young Hunts-men for a fair dispute, which of the two excelled in craft and cunning, the Land-Animals, or the Creatures that breed in the Sea? Which, if you please, we will determine this day, if Aristodemus and Phaedimus will stand to their Agreement: Of which two Gentlemen, the one has offered himself to his Friends to be the Patron of the Land-Animals, the other reserves the honour of being more crafty to those of the Sea.  
Soclares. They will be as good as their words, I assure ye, Autobulus, and will be here presently: For I saw them both early this Morning preparing for the Combat. In the mean time, if you please, before they begin, let us resume something of what was Yesterday not so fully discoursed for want of time, or not so carefully argued in our Wine, as it ought to have been. For there seemed a dispute to resound in my Ears from the Philosophers Portico, as if immortal were opposite to mortal, incorruptible to corruptible, incorporeal to corporeal; and in like manner that things voided of reason ought to be opposed to those Beings that are endued with reason, least among so many Connexions this alone should be found maim and imperfect.  
Autobulus. Good now, Friend Soclar●s, who was he that put such a question, as if that because there are certain Beings endued with reason, therefore there is nothing voided of reason? For we abound with Examples in all things that are destitute of a Soul; nor do we want any other Antithesis to Irrational, but only to oppose whatever is deprived of a Soul, as being voided of Reason and Understanding, to that which is endued with Reason and Understanding together with a Soul. But if any one will assert, that Nature is not defective, and therefore that every Animated Nature is partly rational, partly without Reason, another may at the same time allege, that every Animated Nature is partly endued with imagination, partly deprived of it; partly sensible, partly insensible; to the end that Nature may not want these opposite Habits and Privations, as it were equally balanced in the same Kind. For if it be absurd to doubt whether some Living Creatures are sensible, others without sense, it is as equally ridiculous to grant Imagination to some Living Creatures and not allow it to others; in regard there is no Living Creature that comes into the World, but what is presently endued with sense and Imagination. And thus would he be as much out of the way, who should require one Living Creature to be rational, another to be voided of Reason, distingushing between Men, as if he that had a share of Sense, did not also partake of understanding; or that there were any Living Creature, from which a certain sort of Opinion and Ratiocination, otherwise called Sense and Natural Instinct, were absent. For Nature, which, as they truly say, made all things for the sake of some thing, and to some end, did not make a sensible Creature to be merely sensible in barely suffering, but to be sensible of many things as familiar and agreeable, and of other things as baneful and pernicious. Nor can we omit, that without any teaching or instruction, they avoid some things, and covet the use and benefit of others. Sense it is therefore that affords to every Creature the distinction both of useful and hurtful; which eschewing or making choice of things profitable, and discerning and avoiding of things pernicious or troublesome by the Force of Sense can never be thought to reside in any Creature not capable to reason, to judge, remember and consider. Therefore if you will deprive the Creatures of Expectation, Memory, Design, Preparation, Hope, Fear and Grief, you must at the same time deny them the use either of Eyes or Ears, as not having any manner of Sense or Imagination; which it is better for them to be without, then to labour under grief and pain; to which they can never be Subject, if utterly deprived of Sense.  
There is an Oration of Strat● the philosopher demonstrating that without Sense there can be no Understanding. For many times Letters cursorily glanced upon by the Eye, and Speeches little regarded by the Ear, forsake our knowledge, but are entertained by those that are more attentive. Afterwards by Recollection the same things return into our minds, for us to dispose and pursue the Dictates of our own thoughts as we please ourselves. Whence we say proverbially, the Mind sees, the Mind hears, all other things are Deaf and Blind, in regard there can be no Sense in in the Eyes and Ears, if understanding be wanting. Therefore King Cleomenes after great Commendations given to a Copy of Verses recited at a Banquet where he was present, being asked whether it were not an admirable Piece, bid them that heard it give their judgement, for that his Mind was in the Peloponnesus. Therefore of necessity whatever Creatures are capable of Sense and Understanding, can no otherwise be sensible then by the Force of Understanding.  
But suppose we should grant that Sense has no need of the Understanding for the performance of the Duty incumbent upon it, nevertheless, when that same Sense which makes a difference between what is grateful and what is averse to Nature is wanting in a Living Creature, where is that retention of the memory, that dread of things abominated, that desire of things useful and profitable? which being absent, how comes it to pass that they are endued with that activity and foresight to provide Receptacles, and places of refuge for themselves, to look out after their Prey, and to avoid the Snares and gins of the Hunters? And yet those very Authors inculcate these things in their Introductions, even to the teizing our Ears; defining purpose to be an Indication of perfection; Aggression to be an Act of violence, before an Act of violence; Preparation to be an Action before an Action: Memory to be the comprehension of some certain past Axiom which at first was apprehended by Sense. In all which things there is nothing which may not rightly be said to partake of Reason, and yet all these things are common to all Creatures: As indeed are certainly all those things, which refer to cogitation, which, while they lie concealed in the Brain, we call thoughts; but when they come to be in motion, we name the Acts of Thought; acknowledging in the mean time all passions and perturbations of the Mind to be false Judgments and erroneous Opinions. So that it is a wonder to me, that the same Men should over-see so many Operations and Motions, some of Desire, others of Fear; nay by Jupiter, many times of Envy and Emulation itself. And many times they themselves punish their Dogs and Horses, when they commit a Fault, and this not to no purpose, but to chastise them, by causing in them that same trouble of mind, which, being the effect of pain, we call Repentance. Now the tickling the Ear by pleasing Sounds is called, Kelesis: But the bewitching the Eye is called Goeteia. Both which we make use of in the Domesticating of Wild Beasts. Harts and Horses are allured by the Sounds of Pipes and Flutes. And there are a sort of Crabs, which are charmed out of their holes by Flagelets made of Lote-tree-wood; and 'tis reported that the Shadd-fish are drawn to show themselves above Water by singing and clapping of hands. The Otus also, which is a bide not much unlike a Night-Raven, is taken by allurement of the sight; for that while he stands staring upon the Fowlers Dancing before him in Measure and Figure, and out of Affectation will be striving to Act his Part, by aping their Motions with his Wings and Shoulders, he is frequently surprised and taken.  
But as for those, that more foolishly affirm, that Beasts are neither affencted with joy, nor anger nor fear; that the Nightingale or rather the Swallow does not build, that the Bee does not remember, that the Lion is not angry, that the Hart is not timorous, I would fain know, what answer they will make to those who say, that Beasts neither see nor hear, but as it were see, and as it were hear; that they neither neigh nor bleat, but as it were sand forth a certain sound; lastly that they do not absolutely live, but live as it were? For in my Opinion to aver this is as contrary to plain demonstration, as the rest.  
Soclares. Well then, Autobulus, suppose me to be one of those that affirm these things. For to say truth, while Men will be comparing the Actions of Beasts with the customs, actions and manner of living of Men, and yet deny that the same Beasts have the least Inclination or aim at any progress toward virtue, to which we bent our discourse, I doubt whether Nature gave them a Beginning or no, since they are so uncapable to attain the end.  
Autobulus, Why truly, Soclares, this is not a thing that seems so absurd to those Men. For that while they assert the extreme love of Parents toward their Children to be the Principle of Society and Justice, and find at the same time this virtue apparent and surpassing in brute Animals, yet they will not allow them in the least to partake of Justice. Like Mules, which though they are furnished with Genital Parts, as wanting neither Privities nor Wombs, and mixing with delight and pleasure, yet cannot attain the end of Generation. But then again I would have you consider, whether they be not as ridiculous, that affirm Socrates and Plato to be no less vicious then the meanest of Slaves; nay more, that they were Fools, intemperate and unjust; and then they find fault with the Nature of Beasts, as being impure, and no way accurately framed for the Reception of virtue. As if the depravedness and imbecility of reason, were not vices of Reason, of which all brute Beasts are Guilty; the most of which we plainly find to be intemperate, fearful and unjust. Therefore he that requires perfection of reason in a Creature not framed by nature to receive and entertain it, little differs from one that should deny a Monkey to partake of deformity by nature, or a Tortoise of slowness, as being neither susceptible of beauty or swiftness. Nor do they observe the Distinction that lies before their Eyes. For reason is in the Creature by nature, but right and perfect reason is attained by Industry and Education; so that naturally all Creatures may be said to be rational. But if they look for perfection of reason, and true wisdom, they will hardly find those perfections in any Man whatever. For as there is a difference between sight and sight; and between flight and flight( for Haws and grasshoppers do not see alike neither do Eagles and partridges fly with equal swiftness) so neither in all rational Creatures is there to be, found the same Perfection of cunning and acuteness. For as there are many Examples to be produced of several Brute Creatures, excelling in the Observance of Society, Fortitude, and Foresight as to their particular economy, and making Provision for themselves; so on the other side, there may be found among them, as many of Injustice, Cowardice and Folly. Which is evident from the present Contest, wherein these Young Gentleman have engaged themselves, while the one has undertaken to maintain that Land-Animals, the other, that Creatures bread in the Sea, are most inclined to virtue. Which is plainly demonstrated by comparing of River-Horses with Storks. For the one supports and cherishes their Parents, if they may be so called; the other kills them that they may enjoy their dams. So likewise if you compare Doves with partridges. For the Cock partridge will not suffer the Hen to sit, but breaks her Eggs, and bangs her out of her Nest, refusing to be trod. But the Cock Pigeon takes upon him part of the Females duty, in brooding over the Eggs and feeding the ●oung ones; and if the Hen happen to be too long absent, corrects her with his Bill, till he forces her to return to her Nest. So that while Antipater found fault with Sheep and Asses for their nastiness, I wonder, how he came to pass by the Lynx and the Swallow; of which the one are so cleanly, that they always remove and hid their Excrements, the other teaches her Young ones to turn their tails out of their Nest, before they let fall their defilement. And indeed why may we not say, that one three is more docible then another, as Dogs are more docible then Sheep, or one Pot-herb more timorous then another, as Harts are more fearful then lions. Or otherwise, as among things immovable, there is not one thing slower in Motion then another, nor among things, that are mute, one thing more vocal then another, so neither among things to which nature has not afforded a faculty of understanding, is there one thing more timorous, more slothful, or more intemperate then another; But as to those Creatures where that faculty is present, the difference is manifest in the degrees of more or less.  
Soclares. However 'tis a wonderful thing to observe, how much Man differs from all other Creatures in probity of Manners, in Industry, and all those things, that relate to Justice and common Society.  
Autobulus. Nevertheless, my dear friend, this cannot be denied, that there are many brute Beasts that surpass Men both in bulk and swiftness, others that far surpass him in strength of sight, and exactness of Hearing: and yet for all this we are not to say, that Man is blind, without strength, or wants Ears: for nature has not deprived us either of Hands or Eyes, or strength, or bulk, though we must not compare with Camels or Elephants. In like manner we must not say, that brute Beasts are altogether deprived of reason and understanding, because they are more dull of understanding, and not so quick at ratiocination as we are; as only enjoying a weak and muddy sort of Reason, like a dim and clouded Eye. And did I not presently expect these young Gentlemen, being Persons both studious and learned to determine the Point in reference to Land and Sea-Animals, I could produce a thousand Examples of the Docility, and a thousand more of good Nature in Beasts, which the Famous City of Rome has given us an opportunity to fetch from her Imperial theatres; but we will leave these things fresh and untouched, for them to embellish with their eloquent Discourse. In the mean time I have something to offer by the by, which is this, that I am of Opinion, that there is a mutilation, disease and defect peculiar to every part, and faculty, as Blindness of the Eye, Lameness of the Leg, and Stuttering of the Tongue, which defects cannot be appropriated to any other Members. For that Blindness can never be attributed to that, which was never created to see; nor Lameness to that, which never could go, nor can any thing be said to Stammer, that wants a Tongue, or to Lisp or Stutter, that has not a vocal Utterance. As nothing can be said to be a Changeling, or beside his wits, or mad, to which Nature has denied the Use of Thought, Reason and Understanding; for it is impossible without some faculty or other to be affencted; seeing 'tis only that same faculty that must suffer either privation or mutilation, or some other defect. But you have seen Dogs, that have been mad; and I have seen Horses under the same predicament; and some there are, who say that Bulls and Foxes will be mad. But the Example of Dogs is sufficient, which is unquestionable. Which makes it evident, that those Creatures have a sort of Reason and Understanding not to be despised, which being once confused and troubled, is called madness. For we do not find either their sight or their hearing diminished; but only like a Man affencted with Hypochondriac Melancholy, or in a delirium; of whom it would be absurd to say, that he was not beside himself, or that his Sense Reason and Memory were not disturbed. For custom tells, that they who are in a raving condition are not in their right Senses, but are fallen from their Reason; and so whoever believes that there is any other cause why Dogs run mad, but only that their Senses, Reason and Memories are disturbed, while they cease to know Faces the most familiar to them before, abandon their most usual Food, and oversee what is just before their Eyes, such a Man, I say, seems to me to contend against Truth itself, and out of ignorance to set himself upon the denial of evident Matter of Fact.  
Soclares. You seem to me to be very much in the Right. For the stoics and peripatetics, are led to affirm the contrary upon this supposition, that Justice could have no certain Original, but would be altogether incomprehensible and inexistent, if all Brute Creatures should partake of Reason. For either of necessity it must be a very great piece of Injustice in us to devour and feed upon them, or if we forbear the use of them, it would be impossible for us to live; or rather we should in some measure live the Lives of Beasts, rejecting the use of Brute Creatures. I pass by those innumerable myriad of nomads and Troglodytes, that know no other Food but Flesh. But as for us, that seem to live lovingly and in friendship together, what necessity would there be of labouring the Earth, of toiling upon the Sea, or mining in the Mountains; what need the care of dressing Victuals, if it were so that we must be bound to live, as it would then become us, not only without injury, but rather with all civility and humanity toward all the sorts of Beasts, as being our Fellow rational Creatures? We have no cure, no remedy for an unquestionable necessity that deprives us either of Life or Justice, unless we observe that Ancient Bound and Dispensation which according to Hesiod, distinguishing Natures, and separating every Kind by themselves, commands 
The Fish, wild Beasts, and all the winged Fowl,  
To prey upon their Kinds without control;  
For among them no Law, nor Justice reigns,  
Only by Justice Man from Man abstains.  And therefore as Brutes can extend no Act of Justice to us, so can neither we commit any Act of Injustice against them. Which argument they who reject, have left us no benefit of Life, nor any the smallest entrance for Justice into the World.  
Autobulus. These things dear friend you utter, as the Opinion of those People; But we are not to allow Philosophers a Remedy to procure easy delivery, as they do to Women that are subject to hard Labours, merely that they may bring us forth Justice without any pain or trouble. For the same Persons will not allow it to Epicurus in the greatest things; when our of laziness he would make us believe the stars and all the Creatures were made at first by chance, merely by the slight tendercy of so small and pitiful a thing as an atom; and thereby prevent the Labours of Reason within us. Seeing therefore they neither make out what is uncertain, nor grant what is apparent, 'tis but requisite they should submit in what has been said concerning Beasts in reference to Justice, if they will not aclowledge their Error, or otherwise demonstrate. For Justice has another way to Establish itself, neither so steep nor slippery, nor leading to the subversion of evident Truths, but which, according to Plato's instruction, my Son, and thy Friend, Soclares, has shew'd to such as are not captiously contentious, but willing to learn. For certain it is, that both Empedocles and Heraclitus held it for a Truth, that Man could not be altogether cleared from Injustice toward the Beasts, often bewailing and exclaming against Nature, as if she were nothing else but Necessity and War, having neither any thing unmixed, nor any thing truly pure, but still arriving at her end by many and those unjust and unlawful Passions. Whence they affirm that she Originally proceeded from Injustice, by the conjunction of immortal with mortal; and for that the thing engendered is still delighted with the Parts of that, which engenders, dismembered contrary to Nature from the whole. But this seems to be too luxuri●nt and severe an Accusation of Nature: For there is yet a more moderate excuse, which does not altogether deprive the Beasts of Reason, yet justifies the necessary and convenient use of them; which when the Ancients introduced, they detested and utterly discountenanced voracious, and voluptuous gluttony. Pythagoras also resumed the Argument, how we might reap the benefit of the Creatures without doing injustice. For they do no Injustice, that chastise and kill such Savage Beasts, that are both hurtful to Man, and never will be tamed: But taming such as are gentle and loving to Men, thereby to make them assistant in the several Uses to which they were ordained.  
The Horse and Ass, that Backs to load resign,  
And race of Bulls, sweet milk-affording Kine,  
Which as Prometheus in Eschylus observes, 
Kind Heaven vouchsafed to Men by toil distress,  
With servile Limbs his labours to assist.   
Thus we make use of Dogs to guard our Goats and Sheep, while they are milked and shorn. For Life does not presently forsake a Man, unless he be fed with Periwinkles, or the Livers of goose, or unless he may kill whole Oxen or Kids to supply his Banquets: Neither is it out of any extravagancy upon the Theatre, or to pass away their time in Hunting, that they compel some Beasts to be daring, and to fight against their wills, and kill others, whom Nature has not armed to defend themselves. For in my opinion, he that is for sport and pastime, ought to seek out for such as will sport and be merry with him. And therefore it was the saying of Bion, that though Boys throw Stones at Frogs in sport, yet the Frogs do not die in sport but in earnest; so in Hunting and Fishing, the fault is in the Men delighting in the torments and cruel deaths of Beasts, and tearing them without compassion from their Whelps and their young Ones. For 'tis not in the making use of Beasts that Men do them wrong, but in the wastefully and cruelly destroying them.  
Soclares. Contain yourself, my dearest Autobulus, and forbear these accusations, for here are several Gentlemen coming, all great Huntsmen, whom it will be very difficult to bring over to your Opinion, neither is it convenient to offend them.  
Autobulus. You give me good advice; however I know Eubiotus very well, and my Nephew Ariston; nor am I less acquainted with Aiacides and Aristotimus, the Sons of Dionysius the Delphian, as also with Nicander the Son of Euthydamus, all expert in the Forest-Chace, as Homer expresses it; and therefore likely to take part with Aristotimus. On the other side yonder comes Phaedimus too, bringing along with him the Islanders and Neighbours to the Sea, Heracleon of Megara, and Philostratus of Euboea, 
Whose whole delight is all the Day,  
The toylesom Pastime of the Sea.  But as for Optatus, our equal in Years. 
Which of the sides to range him, well,  
So versed in both, we cannot tell.  For he is one that offers as well the first Fruits of his Fishery to Dictynna, as of his foreste spoils to the Mountain Deities: So that it is apparent, that he comes among us, as one that intends not to be partial to one side more then the other; or else our Conjecture is amiss, dear Optatus, that your design is only to be an Impartial Umpire between these young Gentlemen.  
Optatus. You Conjecture very truly Autobulus: For the Ancient Law of Solon is out of date, that punished those who stood Neuters and refused to adhere to neither side.  
Autobulus. Seat yourself then here by us, that if there should be any occasion for a Testimony, we may not be troubled to run to Aristotles Writings, but acquiescing in your experience, may give our suffrages according to what you aver for Truth.  
Optatus. Go too then, young Gentlemen, are ye agreed upon the Method and Order of the Dispute?  
Phaedimus. Truly, worthy Soclares, that very thing occasioned a great debate among us; but at length, according to that of Euripides, 
The Child of Fortune, Chance, the point agreed,  
And fixed the Method how we should proceed,  By giving the Precedence to the Land-Animals to pled their Cause before Marine Creatures.  
Soclares. Then Aristotimus, 'tis high time for you to speak, and for us to hear.  
Aristotimus. The Court is open to all concerned in the controversy— Others there are that kill their young Ones, by leaping the Females at the very instant of their bringing forth. There are a sort of Mullets called Pardi, that feed upon their own slime. But the Pourcontrell or Polypus sits all the Winter feeding upon its self, In needy House and Domicills forlorn. so slothful, so stupid, so given to his Gut he is, or else so abandoned to all those Vices together. And therefore Plato again and again forbids, or rather makes it his Wish in his Laws, that young Men might not be permitted to addict themselves to Marine Fishery: wherein there is no Exercise of Strength, no Cogitation of Wisdom; nor any thing that contributes to fortitude, swiftness or agility, in combating against Pikes, Congers or Scates; whereas in the Chase of Wild Beasts, the fiercer sort accustom the Huntsman to contempt of danger; the more subtle sort, exercise and sharpen his wit and cunning; the swifter sort, exercise his Strength, and render him more apt to endure labour. These are the Advantages that accrue to a Man by Hunting; but in Fishing, there is nothing worth his while. For never any of the Gods got honour by the surname of a Conger-killer; as Apollo was surnamed the Wolf-slayer; never any of the Deities gloried in being a Darter of Mullets, as Diana is honoured with the Addition of Hart-darting; and what wonder is it? when it is accounted more Noble for a Man to kill then to buy a Wild Boar, a Hart, a Goat or a Hare, but more honourable to buy a Thunny, a Lobster, or an Amy, then to kill' em. And therefore because there is nothing in Fishing that is noble, no using of gins and slight of cunning, it is accounted a sorry pitiful Exercise, not worth a Man's labour. In general then, since the usual Arguments by which Philosophers demonstrate that Beasts partake of Reason are these following, Purpose, Contrivance, Memory, Passions, Care of their young Ones, Gratefulness to those from whom they receive Kindnesses, and the Remembrance of shrewd Turns: To which we may add the search after, and choice of what is needful and beneficial for them, together with apparent shows of virtue, as of Fortitude, Society, ꝯtinence and Magnanimity, if we consider the Marine Creatures, we shall not find, that our strictest Observation can perceive in them any of these Excellencies, or at best such obscure and imperfect glimmerings, as are scarce discernible. But in Terrestrial and Land-Animals, there is not any Man but may behold the most luculent, the most evident and uncontrollable demonstrations in the World of all that has been said. In the first place observe the Designs and Preparations of Bulls provoked to Combat, and of Wild Boars whetting their Teeth. Again, Elephants, when they have digged up, or tore down the Trees, which they intend to feed upon, and thereby blunted and worn out one of their tusks, they only make use of that for those purposes, but reserve the other strong and sharp for their own Defence. The lion also always walks with his Feet inverted, hiding his Claws within side his Paw, to prevent the Hunter from tracing him easily by his Footing. For the tract of a lions Claw is not easily to be found, so that the Hunters are frequently at a loss, and wander after the obscure and scarce discernible Footsteps of those Beasts. You have heard also, I suppose, of the Ichneumon, how that he Arms himself as completely as a soldier with his Breast-plate and Cuirace prepared for Battle, in such a manner does that Creature surround and wrap himself about with a Coat of Mud when he attacks the Crocodile.  
Admirable are the Preparations of Swallows before they go to lay their Eggs, how they place the more solid Stubble for foundations, and upon that build up the slighter straws; and if they perceive that the Nest wants Mud instead of Glue, you may observe how they fly to the next Lake or Sea, and after they have skimm'd the Superficies of the Water with their Wings, they lick up the Dust, and so daub and bind together the loose and ill cohering Parts of the Nest. As for the Form of their Architecture, it is neither composed of Angles nor many sides, but smooth, and as much as may be, Spherical; for that such a Figure is lasting and capacious; and not easily affording entrance to Creatures that lie in wait for their destruction from without.  
Who is there that does not admire for more reasons then one the Labour of the Spiders, so like the Threads that Women spin, and the Nets that are used in hunting. For the extraordinary fineness of the Spinning, and evenness of the Thread, not discontinu'd or snapp'd off like the Yarn upon a Quill, but having the smooth and subtle texture of a thin Membrane, and knit and spun together, with a certain clammy moisture imperceptibly mixed; besides the Tincture of it, causing a kind of Airy and Misty colour, the better to deceive; but above all the Conduct and Governing of this little engine, in which when any thing happens to be entangled, you see how presently like an expert Huntsman, the subtle Artist contracts her Net, and binds her prey within it. All which were it not every day obvious to our sight and Contemplation, gives Credit to to my Discourse, which otherwise might be accounted no less fabulous, then what is reported of certain Lybian Cranes, that when they are a thirsty, throw Stones into the Water, by that means to raise it to such a height, that they may be able to reach it with their Bills. Then again when I saw a Ship Dog in the absence of the Seamen, putting in Stones into a half empty Jar of oil, it was to me a wonder how that Dog should understand, that the Compression of the heavier weight would make the lighter rise. And the same Artifices are reported of Cretan Bees and Cilician goose.  
For the first of these, being to take their flight about some windy Promontory, ballast themselves with little Stones, to prevent their being carried away by the stronger blasts. And as for the goose, they being afraid of the Eagles, every time they across the Mountain Taurus, carry great Stones in their Mouths to the end, that by that means, as it were, bridling their gaggling Tongues, they may across the Mountain in silence without alaruming their Enemies.  
Extraordinary also is the Caution which the Cranes observe in their flight. For they fly when the Wind is very high, and the Air very tempestuous, not as in fair weather with their Beaks in their Breasts like a Half-Moon, but forming a Triangular Body, with the sharp Angle of that Figure they penetrate the Wind that ruffles round about 'em, and by that means preserve their Order unbroken. On the other side when they fall upon the Ground, those that are upon the Night Watch stand with the whole weight of their Bodies upon one Leg, holding a ston in the Claw of the other Foot. For the holding of the ston keeps them awake for a long time together; and wakes them again with the noise of the fall, if they happen to drop asleep. So that it was no wonder, that Hercules laid his Quiver under his Arm-pit, and with his strenuous Arm embracing his Bow; 
Slept all the Ntght, where e're he laid his Load,  
With his right-handed weight upon the Wood.  Nor do I so much admire at him, who was the first that hit upon the way to open an Oyster, when I meet with and consider the Artifices of the Herons. For a Heron, when he has swallowed a gaping Oyster, endures the trouble and vexation of it for so long time, till he perceives it soften and relax'd by the heat of his Stomac; then casting it up again gaping and divided, he takes out that which is fit for Food.  
But accurately to relate the Oeconomie and Contrivances of the Emmets, as it is a task of great Labour, so it would argue too much of Negligence to pass them over in silence. For there is not in nature a smaller Creature, and yet a most absolute Mirror of the greatest and most noble performances, and, as it were, in a transparent drop, the Appearance of all virtue. There is Friendship to be discerned in Mutual Society. There is the Image of Fortitude in the patient undergoing of Labour. In them are to be seen many Seeds of ꝯtinence, many of Wisdom and Justice. Insomuch that Cleanthes, who denied that Beasts were endued with Reason, could not forbear reporting how he met with the following Accident of a Crowd of Emmets, that came to another. Ant-hill, bringing along with them a dead Emmet. Presently other Emmets ascending out of their Ant-hill, seemed, as it were, to meet them, and then disappeared again, and this was done twice or thrice. Till at length, the one side brought up from under ground a worm, as the Price of the dead Emmets Redemption, which the other Party of Pi●mires receiving delivered the dead Emmet and so departed. But that which is apparent to all, is their Equity to each other when they meet one another, while they that carry nothing, always give way to those that are burdened, nor are their Corrosions and Partitions of things, too weighty for single carriage, less remarkable, to the end the Burdens may be divided among many. But when they bring forth their little Eggs and expose them to the could, Aratus makes it a sign of Rainy weather.  
When from her hollow Cells th' Industrious Ant  
Her hidden stores brings forth of small Provant.  
For in that sense many red the {αβγδ} or Ova, to the Providence of those little Creatures, who when they find their Provision in their Magazines to begin to taint, and grow rotten, bring it forth and expose it to the open Air, to prevent the Progress of the Putrefaction. But that, which above all things, demonstrates the surpassing Excellency of their understanding is their pre-apprehension of the Germinating of Wheat. For the Wheat do●s not remain dry and voided of Putrefaction, but grows moist and turns into a kind of milky substance, when it changes from Seed to become an He●b. For fear therefore that preserving the quality, it should become useless for food, they eat out the very principal part of the Grain, from whence the Wheat sends forth its blossom. I must confess, I do not approve of those, who dig up Ant-hills on purpose to improve their Learning, as it were by Anatomy. However the● tell us by virtue of that cruel Information, that the Passage or Descent from the Top of the Hill to the Nest is not directly streight, nor easily penetrated by any other Creature, but intercepted with several turnings and windings, leading through several Underminings and Perforations into three Cavities, of which the one is the common Place of Feeding and Converse for the whole Community, the next is the general Magazine of their Provision, and the third is the Apartment, where they dispose of their Dead.  
I am afraid you may deem me too Impertinent in joining Elephants with Pismires, and yet I cannot but think it seasonable, to show the Nature and Force of understanding as well in the smallest as in the greatest Bodies, neither obscured in the one, nor deficient in the other.  
Some there are that admire in an Elephant his aptness to learn, and to be taught, and the many various Postures and Alterations of movement which he shows upon the theatres, not easily to be equalled by human Assiduity, as subtle and abounding in Memory and Retention as he is. But for my part, I rather choose to prove his evident Understanding from the Passions and Inclinations of the Creature, that were never taught him, but only infused by Nature, as being altogether unmixed and pure without the help of Art.  
At Rome not very long ago, there were many Elephants that were taught many dangerous Postures, many windings and turnings and circular screwings of their bulky Bodys hard to be expressed, among which there was one, which being duller then the rest, and therefore often ranted and chastised for his stupidity, was seen in the Night-time, by Moon-light without being forced to it, to practise over his Lessons with all the Industry imaginable.  
Agno tells a Story of an Elephant in Syria that was bread up in a certain House, who observed that his Keeper took away and defrauded him every day of half the Measure of his Barley, only that once the Master being present and looking on, the Keeper powred out the whole Measure. Which was no sooner done, but the Elephant extending his Proboscis, separated the Barley and ●●vided it into two equal parts, thereby ingeniously discovering, as much as in him lay, the injustice of his Keeper.  
Another in revenge that his Keeper mixed Stones and dirt with his Barley, as the Keepers Meat was boiling upon the Fire, took up the Ashes and flung them into the Pot.  
Another being vexed and provoked by the Boys in Rome, that pricked his Proboscis with the sharp ends of their Writing-steels, caught one of them in his Proboscis and mounted him up in the Air, as if he intended to have squash'd out his Guts; but upon the loud out-crys of the Spectators, set him gently down again upon his Feet, and so went on, believing he had sufficiently punished the Boy in skaring him. Many other things are reported of the Wild Elephants that feed without control, as being under their own Jurisdiction, but nothing more to be admired then their passing of great Rivers. For first of all the youngest and the least flounces into the Stream; whom the rest beholding from the shore, if they see that the less bulky Leader keeps steady footing with his Back above Water, they are then assured and confident that they may boldly adventure without any danger.  
Having thus far proceeded in our discourse, I cannot think it well done to pass by the cunning of the Fox, by reason of the similitude it has with the formers. The Muthologists tell us, that the Dove which Deucalcon sent out of his Ark, returning back again, was to him a certain sign of the Storm not ceased; but of serene and fair weather when she flew quiter away. But the Thracians, to this day, when they design to pass a River that is frozen over, make use of a Fox to try whether the Ice will bear or no. For the Fox treading gently, lays his Ear to the Ice, and if he perceive by the noise of the Water that the Stream runs very close underneath, conjecturing from thence that the Congelation is not deep, but thin and no way steadfastly solid, he makes a stop, and if he be suffered, returns back again; but if he perceive no noise, he goes on boldly. Nor can we say that this is only an exquisiteness of Sense without Reason, but a Syllogistical deduction from Sense; concluding that whatever makes a noise is moved; whatever is moved, cannot be frozen; what is not frozen is moist, what is moist gives way. The Logicians say, that a Dog making use of the Argument drawn from many disjunctive Propositions, thus reasons with himself in places where several High ways meet; either the Wild Beasts is gone this way, or that, or that way; but not that way not that way, therefore this way: The force of Sense affording nothing but the Presumption; but the force of Reason affording the mayor Proposition, and inferring the Conclusion of the Assumption. But a Dog stands in no need of any such Testimonial; in regard it is both false and adulterate. For Sense itself shows which way, the Beast is fled by his Trachs and Foot-steps, bidding farewell to disjunctive and copulate Axioms; and the Nature of Dogs is palpably to be discerned by many other Actions, Affections and dutiful Services, neither the effects of hearing or seeing, but only practicable by Reason and Understanding. It would be ridiculous for me to discourse the ꝯtinence, Obedience and Industry of Dogs in Hunting, to you, tha● are so well confirmed in the knowledge of those things by daily Experience and practise.  
There was a certain Roman slain in the Civil Wars, whose Head no body durst cut off, before they killed the Dog that guarded his body and fought in defence of his Master. It happened that King Pyrrhus Travailing that way, lit upon the Dog watching over the carcase of the Person slain, and hearing that the Dog had been there three days without meat or drink, yet would not forsake his dead Master, o●d read the Man to be buried, but that the Dog should be preserved and brought to him. A few days after there was a Muster of the Souldiers, so that they were forced to march all in Order by the King with the Dog quietly lying by him for a good while. But when he saw the Murtherers of his Master pass by him, he flew upon 'em with a more then ordinary fury, barking and baying and tearing his Throat, and ever and anon turning about to the King; which did not only increase the Kings suspicion, but the jealousy of all that stood about him. Upon which the Men were presently apprehended, and though the Circumstances were very slight which otherwise appeared against them, yet they confessed the Fact, and were Executed.  
The same thing is reported to have been done by a Dog that belonged to Hesiod, surnamed the Wise, which discovered the Sons of Ganychtor the Naucletian, by whom Hesiod was murdered. But that which came to the knowledge of our Parents, when they were Students at Athens is yet more evident then any thing we have said. For a certain Person getting into the Temple of Aesculapius, after he had stolen all the Massy Offerings of Gold and Silver, made his escape not believing he was discovered. But the Dog that belonged to the Temple who was called Cipparus, when he found that none of the Sacristanes took any notice of his barking, pursued himself the Sacrilegious thief; and though at first the Fellow paulted him with stones, he could not beat him off. So soon as it was day, the Dog still followed him thô at such a distance, that he always kept him in his Eyes: When the Fellow threw him Meat he refused it; when the thief went to Bed, the Dog watched at his door, and when he rose in the Morning, the Dog still followed him, fawning upon the Passengers upon the Road, but still barking and baying at the Heels of the thief. These things when they who were in pursuit of the Sacrilegious Person heard, and were  told withal by those they met the colour and bigness of the Dog, they were the more vigorous in the pursuit, and by that means overtaking the thief, brought him back from Cromyon, while the Dog ran before leaping and capering, and full of joy, as it were challenging to himself the praise and reward of apprehending the Temple-robber. And indeed the Athenians were so grateful to him that they decreed him such a quantity of Meat to be publicly measured to him, and ordered the Priests to take care to see it done; in imitation of the Kindness of the Ancient Athenians to reward the Mule.  
For when Pericles built the Temple Hecatonpedon in the Acropolis or Tower of Athens, it so fell out, that the stones were to be fetched every day many furlongs off, and a world of Carriages were made use of for that purpose. Among the rest of the Mules that laboured hard in this employment, there was one that though dismissed by reason of Age, would still go down to the Keramicon and meeting the Carts that brought the Stones, would be always in their Company running by their sides, as it were by way of encouragement and to excite them to work cheerfully. So that the People admiring the Zeal of the Mule, ordered him to be fed at the public charge, as they were wont to decree public alms to the superannuated Wrestlers.  
And therefore they who deny that there is nothing of Justice due from us towards dumb Animals, may be said to speak true, so far as concerns them that Live in the Sea and haunt the Abysses of the Deep. For those Kind of Creatures are altogether unsociable, without affection for their Young Ones, voided of all softness of disposition; and therefore it was well said of Homer speaking to a Person whom he looked upon as a mere Savage, 
But as for thee, so little worth,  
The green eyed Sea did bring thee forth.   
In regard the Sea brings forth nothing friendly, nothing mansuete or gentle. But he that uses the same Discourse and Arguments against Land-Animals, is himself a Brute and Savage Creature. Unless any Man will affirm that there was nothing of Justice due from Lysimachus to the Hyrcanian Dog, that would not stir from the Body of his Deceased Master, and when he saw his Masters carcase burning, ran and threw himself into the Flames. The same is reported to have been do●e by a Dog that was kept by one Pyrrhus, not the King, but a private Person of that Name. For upon the death of his Master, he would not stir from the Body, but when it was carried forth leaped upon the Beer, and at length threw himself into the Funeral Pile and was burnt alive with his Masters Body.  
The Elephant also which carried King Porus when the King was wounded in the Battle against Alexander, pulled out several Darts out of his Wounds with his Proboscis, with no less tenderness and care then the Chyrugeon could have done; and though the Elephant himself were but in a very bad condition, yet would he not lie down, till he perceived the King all over of a gore Blood ready to sink; and then fearing least the King should fall, he stooped down gently, to ease the King in sliding to the Ground.  
Such was the humour of Bucephalus, who before he was accouter'd, would suffer his Groom to back him, but when he had all his Royal Trappings and Houses about him, would permit no Body but Alexander to bestride him. But if any other Persons approached him in curiosity to try what they could do, he encountered 'em open-mouth'd, and neighing out his fury, leaped upon their Shoulders, bore 'em down, and trampled 'em under his Feet, unless prevented by keeping at a distance or by speedy flight.  
Nor am I ignorant but that there is something of Variety in every one of these Examples, which you must aclowledge. And indeed it is not easy to find out the natural Dexterity of any one ingenious and docible Animal, which is not accompanied with more then one single virtue. Thus where there is affection toward their Young ones, there is desire of Praise: where there is generosity, there is also moderation of Anger. Cunning likewise and Understanding are rarely partend from daring boldness and fortitude. But as for those that rather choose to divide and distinguish every one of these virtues particularly themselves, they shall find in Dogs a fair demonstration of a gentle and yet lofty Mind at the same time, in turning away from such as sit quietly upon the ground: according to that of Homer, 
With hideous noise the Dogs upon him slay,  
But sly Ulysses who the danger knew,  
Sate hushed and still, and from his Royal hand  
His sceptre dropped, as useless in command.  For Dogs never bite nor worry those that prostrate themselves at their Mercy, and put on a face of Humility. Thus they say the bravest of those Indian Dogs that fought against Alexander, never stirred or so much as looked about them upon the letting loose of a Hart, a Boar, and a Bear, but when they saw a lion, then they began to rouse, to shake and prepare thmselves for the Combat. By which it was plain that they only thought the lion an Antagonist worthy of their courage, but despised all the rest as below their anger.  
Your Hounds that usually hunt Hares, if they kill the Hares themselves, take great delight in tearing them to pieces, and lapping up the blood. But if the Hare, despairing of her Life, as many times it happens, runs her self to death, the Hounds finding her dead, will never touch her, but stand wagging their tails, as if they did hunt not so much for the love of the Food, as for Vict●ry and Triumphs sake.  
There are many Examples of cunning and subtlety abounding in Land Creatures; but to omit the sleights and Artifices of Foxes, Cranes and Jack-daws, of which I shall say nothing, because they are things already so well known, I shall make use of the Testimony of Thales, the most ancientest of our Philosophers, who is reported to have chiefly admired the most excellent in any Art or Cunning.  
A certain Mule that was wont to carry Salt, in fording a River, by accident happened to stumble, by which means the Water melting away the Salt, when the Mule rose again, he felt himself much lighter; the Cause of which the Mule was very sensible of, and laid it up in his Memory; insomuch that every time he forded the same River, he would always stoop when he came into the deepest part, and fill his Vessels with Water, crouching down and leaning sometimes to one side, sometimes to another: Thales hearing this, ordered the Vessels to be well filled with wool and sponges, and to drive the Mule laden after that manner. But then the Mule, as he was wont, filling his burdens with Water, reasoned with himself, that he had ill consulted his own benefit, and ever afterwards, when he forded the same River, was so careful and cautious, that by his good will he would never suffer his burdens so much as to touch the Water.  
Another piece of Cunning joined with an extraordinary Affection to their Young ones is to be observed in partridges, which instruct their Young ones,' ere they are able to fly, when they are pursued by the Fowlers, to lay themselves upon their Backs, their Breasts covered with some clod of Earth, or little heap of Dirt, conglomerated as it were like a Ball. On the other side, the Old partridges to deceive the Fowlers and draw them quiter a contrary way, make short sleights from one place to another, thereby enticing the Fowlers to follow them, till thus allured from their Young ones, the Fowlers give over all hopes of being Masters of their Game.  
In like manner Hares returning to their Forms, dispose their Leverets one in one place, another in another, at the distance many times of an Acre of ground: so that upon the tracing either of Men or Hounds, they are sure not to be all in danger at one time: themselves in the mean time not easy to be pricked, by reason of the various windings and turnings which they make, and at length by giving a large leap discontinue the print of their Feet, and so betake themselves to their rest.  
A Bear when she perceives her self overgrown with Fat, before she grows stiff and unwieldy, cleanses the place where she intends to conceal her self, and in her passage thither, lifts up her Paws as high as she can, and treads upon the Ground with the top of her Toes, and at length turning her self upon her back throws her self into her Receptacle.  
Your Hinds generally calve at a distance from all places frequented by Flesh-devouring Beasts: and Stags when they find themselves unwieldy through surplusage of Flesh and Fat, get out of the way and hid themselves, hoping to secure themselves by lurking, when they dare not trust to their Heels.  
The means by which the Land Hedge-hogs defend and guard themselves occasioned the Proverb, 
Many sly Tricks the subtle Renard knows,  
But one the Hedge-hog greater then all those.  For the Hedge-hog, as they report, when he spies the Fox coming, 
Round as a Pine Nut, or more Sphear-like Ball  
Lies with his Body palisaded all  
With pointed thorns, which all the Foxes slight  
Can find no way to touch, much less to bite.   
But the Provision which the Hedge-hogs make for their Young Ones is much more ingenious. For when Autumn comes, they creep under the Vines, and shake off the Grapes with their Feet: which done they roll themselves up and down and take them up with their prickles, so that when they creep away again, you would think it a walking cluster( and this we have looked on, and seen them do) after which returning to their Holes, they lay themselves down for their Young Ones to feed. Their Holes have two openings, one to the South, the other to the North. So that when they perceive the Alteration of the Air, like Pilots shifting their Sails, they stop up that which lies to the Wind, and open the other. Which a certain Person that lived at Cyzycum observing, took upon him from thence at any time to tell in what corner the Wind would sit.  
As for Love and observance of Society joined with Understanding and Prudence, Juba produces many Examples of it in Elephants. For it is the usual practise of the Elephant-Hunters to dig large Pits in the Elephants Walks, and cover 'em slightly over with dry twigs or other materials; into which if any Elephant happens to fall, the rest fetch Wood and Stones to fill up the cavity of the Pit, that the other may the more easily get out again. And some report of the Elephants, that they make Prayers to the Gods by natural instinct, that they perform divine Ceremonies to the Sea, and worship the rising Sun, lifting up their Proboscis's to Heaven instead of Hands. For which reason they are Creatures the most beloved of any by the Gods, as ptolemy Philopator testified. For having vanquished Antiochus, and being desirous to pay a more than ordidinary Honour to the Deity among many other Oblations of Thansgivings for his Victory, he sacrificed four Elephants. After which being terrified with a Dream, which threatened him with the Wrath of the Deity for that prodigious Sacrifice, he sought out several ways to expiate his offence, and among the rest by way of propitiation, he erected four Elephants of Brass to atone for the four Elephants he had slaughtered.  
Examples not inferior of the observance of Society are to be found among lions. For the younger carry forth the slow and aged when they hunt abroad for their Prey. When the old ones are weary and tired, they rest and stay for the younger that hunt on; who when they have seized upon any thing, call to the Old ones, making a noise like the bleating of a Calf: they presently hear, and so meeting all together, they feed in common upon the Prey.  
In the Amours of many Animals there is much variety; some are furious and Mad: others observe a kind of human Decency, and tricking of themselves to set off their Beauty, not without a Courtly kind of Conversation. Such was the Amour of the Elephant at Alexandria, that rivall'd Aristophanes the Grammarian. For they were both in love with a Virgin that sold Garlands; nor was the Elephants Courtship less conspicuous then the others. For as he passed through the Fruit Market, he always brought her apple, and stayed with her for some time, and thrusting his Proboscis within her waistcoat, instead of his hand, took great delight in gently feeling her Breasts.  
No less remarkable was the Dragon in Love with the Etolian Woman. He came to her in the Night, and getting under her Garments to her very Skin, embraced her naked Body; and never either willingly or unwillingly did her any harm; but always about break of day departed: which the Kindred of the Woman observing to be the common custom of the Dragon, removed her a great way off. After that, the Dragon came not again for three or four days together, being all the while, as it seemed, wandring about in search of her: But at length having with much ado found her out, he did not approach her with that mildness as he was wont to do, but after a rougher manner with the Folds of his Body having first bound her Hands and arms, with the end of his tail he lashed the Calves of her Legs; expressing thereby a gentle and loving anger, which had more in it of indulgent expostulation then punishment.  
I say nothing of a Goose in Egypt in Love with a a Boy; nor of the Ram in Love with Glauce that played on the Harp: For the Story is in all Peoples mouths, and besides I am apt to think you are satiated with Examples of this Nature.  
But as for Starlings, Magpies and parrots, that learn to talk, and afford their Teachers such a Spirit of Voice so well tempered and so adapted for imitation, they seem to me to patronise and defend the rest of the Creatures by their Talent of learning what they are taught, and in some measure to teach us, that those Creatures also, as well as they, partake of vocal expression and Articulate Sound. From whence I conclude it a most ridiculous thing in them, that would compare these Creatures with a sort of Mute Animals, I mean the Fish, that have not voice enough to howl or make a mournful noise. Whereas in the natural and untaught Notes of these Creatures what Music, what a charming Grace do we observe? To which the famous Poets, and choicest Singers among Men bear Testimony; while they compare their sweetest Odes and Poems to the Singing of Swans and Melody of Nightingales. Now in regard there is more of reason in Teaching then in Learning, we are to believe Aristotle, who assures us that Terrestrial Animals do that likewise; in regard that Nightingales have been observed instructing their young Ones to Sing. Of which this may be a sufficient Proof, that such Nightingales are known to sing worse that are taken very young from the Nest, and deprived of the Education of the Old One. For they both learn and are taught from the Old one, not for hire, or to get Reputation, but merely out of a delight in mixing their Notes together, and because they have a greater love for that which is excellent, and curious in the Voice then what is profitable. Concerning which I have a Story to tell ye which I heard from several Greeks and Latins who were eye Witnesses of the thing.  
A certain Barber in Rome who had a Shop right against the Temple which is called the Greek's Market, bread in his House a kind of a Prodigy of a magpie, whose Tongue would be always going with the greatest Variety imaginable, sometimes imitating human Speech, sometimes chattering her Wild Notes, and sometimes humouring the Sounds of Wind Instruments, neither was this by any constraint, but as she accustomed her self, with a more then ordinary Ambition to leave nothing unspoken, nothing that her Imita●ion should not master.  
It happened a certain Person of the wealthier sort, and newly dead in the Neighbour-hood, was carried forth to be butted with a great Number of Trumpets before him. Now in regard it was the custom of the Bearers to rest themselves before the Barbers-shop, the Trumpeters being Excellent in their Art, and withal commanded so to do, made a long stop, Sounding all the while.  
After that day the Magpye was altogether mute, not so much as uttering her usual Notes by which she called for what she wanted, insomuch that they who before admired as they passed to and fro at the chattering and prating of the bide, now much more wondered at her sudden silence; and many suspected her to have been poisoned by some that affencted peculiar skill in teaching those Kind of Birds. But the Greatest Number were of Opinion that the noise of the Trumpets had stupefied her hearing, and that by the loss of her hearing the use of her Voice was likewise extinguished: But the cause of her unusal silence proceeded from neither of these Effects, but from her retiring to privacy by her self to exercise the imitation of what she had heard, and to fit and prepare her Voice as the Instrument to express what she had learnt. For soon after she came of a sudden to sight again, but had quitted all her former customary Imitations, but only Sounded the music of the Trumpets, observing all the Changes and Cadencies of the Harmony with that exactness of time as was not to be imagined: An Argument as I have said before of a more rational aptness in those Creatures to learn of themselves, then from the Instructions of a teacher. Nor do I think it proper to pass by in silence one wonderful Example of the Docility of a Dog, of which I myself was a Spectator in Rome. This Dog belonged to a certain Mimic who at that time had the management of a Farce, wherein there was great variety of Parts, which he undertook to instruct the Actors to perform, and several Imitations proper for the matters and passions therein represented. Among the rest there was one who was to drink a sleepy Potion, and after he had drank it, to fall into a deadly drowsiness, and counterfeit the Actions of a dying Person. The Dog, who had studied several of the other Gestures and Postures, more diligently observing this, took a peace of Bread that was sopt in the Potion, and after he had eat it, in a short time counterfeited a trembling, then a staggering, and afterward a drowsiness in his Head: Then stretching out himself, he lay as if he had been dead; and seemed to proffer himself to be dragged out of the Place and carried to Burial, as the Plot of the Play required. Afterwards understanding the time from what was said and acted, in the first place he began gently to stir, as it were waking out of a profound sleep, and lifting up his Head, he gazed about him: Afterwards to the amazement of the Beholders, he rose up and went to his Master to whom he belonged with all the signs of gladness and fawning kindness, insomuch that all the Spectators, and even Caesar himself, for Old Vespasian was present in Marcellus's Theatre, were taken with the sight.  
But perhaps we may seem ridiculous, for signalizing Beasts in this manner, because they learn, though with little reason, since we find that Democritus affirms us to have been their scholars in greatest matters. Of the Spider, for weaving and repairing what we tear or wear out. Of the Swallow, for building Houses; and of the mournful Swan and Nightingale for singing and imitation of their Notes. Moreover in others we observe a Threefold practise of Physic both natural and inbred. For Tortoises ma●e use of Basil, and Weasels eat Rue, when they have devoured a Serpent; and Dogs purge themselves from abounding choler with a certain sort of Grass: The Dragon quickens the dimness of his sight with Fennel, and the Bear coming forth of her Cave, after long emaciation, feeds upon Wild Dragons; for the acrimony of that Herb opens and separates her Guts when clung together. At other times, being overcloy'd with food, she repairs to the Emmet-Hills, and thrusting forth her Tongue all soft and unctuous by reason of the sweet kind of slime that all besmears it, till it be crowded with Emmers, at length swallows them down her Throat, and so recovers. And it is reported that the Egyptians observe and imitate the bide called Ibis, in purging and cleansing her Bowels with the briny Sea-water. For which reason, the Priests, when they hallow themselves, make use of the Water of which the Ibis has drank: For that those Birds will not drink the Water, if it be Medicinal, or otherwise infected. Some Beasts there are that cure themselves by Abstinence, as Wolves and lions, who when they are gorged with Flesh, lie still and digest their Crudities by the warmth of one anothers Bodies. It is reported also of the Tiger, that if a Kid be thrown to her, she will not eat in two days; but growing almost famished the third day, if she be not supplied with another, she will tear down the Cage that holds her, if she have strength enough; yet all this while she will not meddle with the first Kid, as being her Companion and fellow House-keeper.  
More then this the Elephants are said to make use of Chyrugery; for that being brought to Persons wounded they will draw forth the Heads of Spears and Arrows out of their Bodies with little pain, and without dilacerating and mangling the Flesh.  
The Cretan Goats, which by eating Dittany expel the Arrows shot into their Bodies, taught Women with Child to understand the virtue of that Herb so prevalent to expel the Birth. For those Goats being wounded seek no other cure, but presently seek out and hunt for Dittany.  
But these things though wonderful, are not so much to be admired, as are those Beasts that understand the use of numbers, and will reckon to such a Proportion; like the Oxen about Susa. For there are Oxen in that place that Water the Kings Gardens with portable Buckets, of which the number is fixed: For every ox carries a hundred Buckets every day, and more you cannot force them to take or carry would you never so fain, insomuch that when constraint has been used for experiments sake, nothing could make them stir after they had carried their full number: Such an accurate account do they take and preserve the same in their memory, as K●etias the Guidian, relates.  
The Libyans deride the Egyptians for the Fables which they report of the Oryx, 
A certain Beast resembling a Goat in colour.  which, as they say, makes a great noise upon the same day and at the very hour when the Dog-star, which they call Sothes, rises. However this is certain that all their Goats, when that Star rises truly with the Sun, turn themselves and stand gazing toward the East; which is a most unquestionable Argument of that Star's having finished its course, and chiefly acknowledged for such among the Astronomers Observations.  
But that my discourse may draw to a Conclusion, let us add something concerning the Divinity and prophetic nature, with which our Terrestrial Creatures are endued. Which when we consider, we shall find, that that same part of Soothsaying, which is founded upon the observation of Birds, is not the meanest or most ignoble, but very ancient and in great esteem. For the smartness and intelligible faculty of Birds, together with their cap●bility to receive all impressions of Fancy, afford the Deity a Convenience to make use of those faculties as Instruments, to turn them into Motion, into Sounds, Chirpings, and Forms, sometimes immovable, sometimes fixed, sometimes volatile like the Winds, by means of some of these stoping short, by the means of others directing to their end the Actions and impetuous Impulses of Men: Therefore Euripides in general, calls Birds the criers of the Gods; and particularly Socrates stiles himself a fellow Servant with the Swans. As among Princes, Pyrrus was pleased with the surname of Eagle; and Antiochus loved to be called Anticchus the Falcon: But they who deride Men insipid and voided of Ingenuity, call them by the Names of Fish. And whereas we can produce millions of Things and Accidents which are foretold us by Land and flying Creatures, there is not any one such Example that the Patrons of Water-Animals can produce in their behalf; but being all voided of hearing, perfectly sottish, and without any sight or discerning of providence, they are all thrown apart into that same place unblessed and hideous called the Sea, as it were into the Region of the Ungodly, where the rational and intellectual part of the Soul, is extinguished; only being animated with some diminutive portion, the lowest that may be imagined of a confused and overwhelmed sense, they rather seem to palpitate them breath.  
Then Heracleo, prepare thyself Friend Phoedimus; after all this, 'tis time to rouse thyself in the defence of the islanders and others that live by the Sea side. For this has been no frivolous Discourse, but a hard-fought Contest, and a continued piece of Rhetoric that wanted only Lattices and a Pulpit to give it the Honour it deserved.  
Phoedimus. Therefore you see, 'tis plain here has been foul Play and Treachery in the Case; for a Person sober and upon premeditation, to set upon us when we were Stomach-sick and doaz'd with our last Nights Compotation. But there is no way to avoid the Combat: for that being an Imitator of Pindar it shall never be said of me, 
Combats refused, when nobly set upon,  
Have virtue into deepest darkness thrown.  For we have leisure enough, as having nor only allowed ourselves a vacation from Jollity and Balls, but our Hounds and Horses a relaxation from their Labours; and with all having hung up our drag Nets and Spears, as having also this day granted, for Disputations sake, a general Truce to all Creatures as well upon the L●nd as in the Sea. However fear not; for I will use it moderately, without producing either the Opinions of Philosophers, or the Fables of the Egyptians, or the Relations either of the Indians or Libyans wanting Testimony: but such as shall be verified by good Witnesses, such as have made it their business to toil upon the Ocean, and gave Credit to their Eyes. For to say truth there is not any one of those Examples which are produced from the Land which do not confirm their Histories, as being manifested to Sense: Whereas the Sea affords but few but what are difficult to be discerned. The Sea concealing the Generation and Nourishment of most of her Creatures, their Antipathies, and ways of preserving themselves. In reference to which many Acts of their Understanding, Memory and Community being unknown to us, is the reason that we cannot be so copious in our Discourse. Then again, Land Animals, by reason of their ●amiliarity and cohabitation, being in some measure accustomed to the Conditions of Men, become capable of their Nu●triture, Education and Imitation: which sweetens and allays all their Acerbity and Morosness, like the mixture of Fresh-water with Sea-brine; and awakening that which is slow and disorderly in them, inflames it with human Motions. Whereas the living of Sea-Animals being by many degrees remote from the Converse of Men, and having nothing adventitious, or that may be said to be acquired by Custom, and Familiarity, is altogether peculiar, genuine and unmixed with Manners strange and foreign to them; which proceeds either from Nature, or the Place itself. For Nature receiving and cherishing whatever Knowledge comes to her self, affords it also to Fish, and makes many eels tame and familiar to Men; which for that reason are called Sacred, like those in the River Arethuse; so that in many places there are Fish that will hear and obey when called by their Names: as the story goes of Crassus's Mullet, upon the Death of which he wept. For which when Domitius twitted him in these words, Did not you weep when your Mullet died? he retorted upon him again, Did you bury three Wives and never wept at all? The Crocodiles belonging to the Priests not only know the Voices of those that call them, and suffer themselves to be strok'd and handled, but gaping hold out their Teeth to be cleansed and wiped by the hands of the Priests.  
Lately Philinus, after he had been long traveling in Egypt, returning to us,  told us how he saw in the City, which derives its Name from Anteus, an Old Woman sleeping by the side of a Crodocile upon a low soft Bed well and decently dressed up.  
In Ancient Histories we find that when King ptolemy called the Sacred Crocodile; and that the Crocodile neither vouchsafed to appear at his call, nor would answer to the earnest Expostulations of the Priests, it was looked upon as a Prognostication of the Death of the King, which happened soon after. Which shows that the Race of Water-Animals is neither without a share of that inestimable thing called Prophetic Signification, nor undeserving those Honours ascribed to Land Creatures. For that about Sura, which is a Village in Lycia between Phellus and Myro, I have heard it credibly reported, that there are certain Persons who make it their business to watch the flights and pursuits of the Fish, and from thence by a certain Art which they have they gather predictions, as others from the Observation of Birds. But let these Examples suffice to show that Fish are not altogether Strangers to Mankind, nor altogether voided of human Affection.  
But for a great and common demonstration of their unmixed and natural Understanding, we find that there is not any Fish that swims, unless they be such as stick and cling to the Rocks, which are so easily taken by Men, as Asses are seized by Wolves; Bees by Black-birds, grasshoppers by Swallows, Serpents by Harts; which are therefore called Elaphoi, not from their swiftness, but from a faculty which they have of drawing Serpents to them by the force of their Breath. Or as Sheep call the Wolf by the sound of their Feet, or as the Panther allures to her Paws both Apes and other Creatures by the fragrant smell of her Body. But so suspicious is the Sense of all Water-Animals, and so watchful are they to avoid all Baits and Treacheries against them by reason of their extraordinary cunning, that Fishing thereby becomes no easy, or single Labour, but a toil that requires various Instruments and many Tricks of human Cunning and Deceit: and this is apparent from Examples near at hand. For no Man desires an Angling-Rod too thick, tho strong enough to hold against the twitches of the Fish when taken; but rather they require it slender, least by casting too great a shadow upon the Water, they should frighten the suspicious Creature. In the next place they never knit too many knots in the Line, but make it as smooth as may be; for that would too much discover the Deceit; and then for the Hairs which are next the Hook, they endeavour to get the whitest they can meet with. For so by reason of the likeness of Colour, they lie the more easily concealed in the Water. Therefore some there are, who expounding the following Verses of Homer, 
This to the bottom quickly sinks like led,  
And drawing down the curls of the Bulls Head,  
While thus the secret Baits concealed lie,  
Makes deadly havoc 'mong the Ravenous fry.  believe that the Ancients made use of Bulls Hair for their Lines with which they angl'd; alleging that Keras then signified Hair, from whence Keirasthai to be shaved, and Kura, shaving; and that Keroplastes in Archilochus, signified a Barber. But this is an Error. For they made use of Horse-Hair, more especially that of Stone-horses. For Mares by moistening their tails with their Urine, render the Hair weak and brittle. Tho Aristotle will not allow any thing to be said in all this that shew'd any such extraordinary subtlety in Men. Only he says, that the lower piece of the Line was fortified with a little hollow piece of Horn, which the Fish swallowed before they could come at any thing else. Moreover that they made use of round Hooks to catch Mullets and Tunies, in regard they had but small Mouths, for that they were afraid of a straight Hook. He also farther says, that the Mullet many times suspecting the round Hook, will swim round about it, flapping the Bait with his Tail, and then turning round, secures to himself so much as he has broken off. Or if he cannot do that, he shuts his Mouth close, and with the extremities of his Lips nibbles off some part of the Bait.  
The Fish called Labrax behaves himself more stoutly then the Elephant; for when he perceives himself struck with the Hook, without assistance he sets himself at liberty, widening the Wound by flinging his Head to, and fro, and enduring the painful Twingings of the Hook, till he have freed himself from it with the loss of his Flesh.  
The Sea-Fox, or the Fish called Alopex seldom bites but avoids the Deceit; or if he chance to be taken, presently turns the Inside of his Body outward. For by reason of the strength and moisture of his Body, he has a peculiar faculty to turn it so, that the inside coming to be outermost, the hook falls off. These things demonstrate understanding, and a subtle and extraordinary use of it in the neck and juncture of time.  
Other examples there are, which show not only this same understanding and knowledge but the community and mutual Affection of Fish. Thus if one Scate happen to swallow the Hook, all the rest of the Scates that are in the same shoal, presently crowd together, and bite the Line in pieces. The same Scates if any of their Companions fall into the Net, give the Prisoners their tails to take hold of with their Teeth, and so draw them forth by main force.  
But the Fish called Anthiae with far more courage assist their fellows in distress. For getting under the Meshes with their Backs, and setting up their fins, they never leave till they have sawed them in two.  
Now we know no Land Animal that will assist and defend his Kind in danger; neither the Bear, nor the Wild Boar, nor the Leaena, nor the Panther; true it is that when they are in herds together, they will gather into a circled, and defend each other in Common: but no single Land Animal either knows or cares to assist a single Companion, but flies and shifts for himself as far off as he can, from the Beast that is wounded and lies a dying. For as for that same story of Elephants filling up the Ditches with heaps of adjoining Materials whether Wood or Earth, for the unfortunate Elephant the more easily to get up again, it is so extremely uncouth and foreign to us, as if we were bound to believe Juba's Books by virtue of a Royal Edict. However if it were true, it does but serve to show that many of the Marine Creatures are nothing inferior in Understanding and Community then the most intelligent of the Land Animals. But as for their mutual Society we shall discourse apart of that by itself.  
Now the Fishermen observing how that most Fish avoided the casts of their Hooks, by cunning or by striving with the Tackling, betook themselves to force, like the Persian Hunters, making use of Nets, that there might be no escape for those that were caught either by the help of reason or subtlety. Thus Mullets and the Fish called Julides are taken with Sweep-Nets and Drag-Nets, as are also several other sorts of Fish called Mormuri, Sargi, Gobii, and Labraces; those that are called Casting-Nets catch the Mullet, the Gilthead, and the Scorpion-Fish: and therefore Homer calls this sort of Fishing with Nets Panagra, or the All sweeper. And yet there are some Fish that are too cunning for these Nets.  
Thus the Labrax or Jack perceiving the drawing of the Sweep Net with the force of his Body beats a hollow place in the mud where he lays himself close till the Net be gone over him.  
But as for the Dolphin, when he finds himself taken and in the midst of the Net, he remains there without being in the least perplexed, but falls too with a great deal of Joy, and feasts upon the numerous Fry within the Meshes: but so soon as he comes near the shore, he bites his way through the Net with his Teeth and swims away. Or if he chance to be taken, the Fishermen do him no other harm the first time, but only sow a sort of large Bulrushes to the Finny Crown upon his Head and so let him go. If they take him a second time they punish him with stripes, well knowing him again by the Prints of the Needle. But that rarely happens. For having got his Pardon the first time, for the most part of them, they aclowledge the favour, and abstain from spoil for the future.  
Moreover, among the many Examples that make evident the wariness of Fish in avoiding the Deceits and Craft of the Fisher-men, it would not be convenient to pass by that of the Cuttle Fish. For this Fish carrying in that part of his Head which is near his Neck called his Nose, a certain black and inky sort of liquour, so soon as he perceives himself discovered, throws that liquour forth, and darkens all the Water round about him in such a manner that the Fisher-men losing sight of him, by that means, he makes his escape: imitating therein Homers Deities, who when they had a mind to save any of their Heroes hide them in an Azure Cloud: but of this enough.  
Now for the extraordinary suttlery of Fish in hunting and catching their own Prey, we shall meet with several Examples of it in several Fish. Particularly the Star fish understanding his own nature to be such, that whatever he touches dissolves and liquifies, readily offers his Body, and permits himself to be touched by all that come near him.  
You know yourself the property of the Torpedo or Crampfish, which not only benumbs all those that touch it, but also strikes a profaneness through the very Net into the hands of them that go about to take him. And some that have had greater experience of this Fish, report, that if it happen to fall alive upon the Land, they that pour Water upon it, shall presently perceive a profaneness seizing upon their hands and stupefying their feeling through the Water affencted with the Quality of the Fish. And therefore having an innate sense of this faculty, it never makes any resistance against any thing, nor ever is in danger. Only swimming circularly about his Prey, shoots forth the Effluviums of his Nature like so many Darts, and first infects the Water, then the Fish through the Water, which is neither able to defend itself nor to escape, being as it were held in Chains and frozen up.  
The Fisher-man is well known to many, who has his Name given him from his manner of catching Fish; whose Art, as Aristotle writes, the Cuttle Fish makes use of, for he lets down like a Line, a certain curl which nature has given him, so ordered as to let it run out at length, or draw it to him again, as he sees occasion. This when he sees any of the lesser Fish approach, he offers them to bite, and then by degrees pulls the curl nearer and nearer by virtue of the Bait, till he has drawn his Prey within the reach of his Mouth. And as for the Polypus's changing his colour, Pindarus has made it famous in these words, 
In any City may that Man expose  
His safety, who well knows  
Like Sea-bred Polypus to range,  
And vary colour upon every Change.  In like manner Theognis, 
Change manners with thy Friends, observing thus  
The vary coloured cunning Polypus;  
Who let him stick to whatsoever rock,  
Of the same colour does his Body look  'tis true the Chamaleon changes colour, not out of any design, or to conceal himself, but out of fear, being naturally timorous and trembling at every noise he hears: And this is occasioned by the extraordinary abundance of breath which he enjoys, as Theophrastus affirms. For the whole Body of this Creature wants but little of being nothing else but Lungs; which demonstrates him to be full of Spirits, and consequently apt to change. But this same change of the Polypus is no product of any affection of the Mind, but a kind of Action. For he changes on purpose, making use of this Artifice to escape what he fears, and to get the Food which he lives by. For by fraud he takes those things that never avoid him, and avoids those things that pass him by without taking any notice of him. For that he devours his own curls is an untruth; but that he is afraid of the Lamprey and Conger is certain: for by these he is ill treated, not being able to return them any Injury, by reason of their being so slippery: tho on the other side the Lobster having once got them within his Claws holds them with ease: For slenderness affords no help against roughness: but when the Polypus comes to thrust his Horns into the Body of the Lobster, then also the Lobster dyes. And this same Vicissitude of avoiding and pursuing one another, has nature infused into them on purpose to exercise their subtlety and understanding.  
Then again we have heard Aristotimus relating how the Land Hedge hog had a presentiment of the rising of the Wind, and praising the Triagonal Flight of Cranes. But for my part, I produce no particular Hedge-hog of Cyzicum or Byzantium, but all the Sea Hedge-hogs in general, who when they perceive a Storm a coming, ballast themselves with little Stones, least they should be overturned by reason of their lightness, or carried away by the rolling of the Waves, which they prevent by the weight of their little Stones.  
On the other side the Cranes order in their flight against the Wind is not of one sort; But this is a general Notion among all Fish, that they always swim against the Waves and the Tide, and always take care least the Wind being in their Tails, should force their Fins from their backs, and leave their naked Bodies exposed to the could and other inconveniences; and therefore they still oppose the Prows of their Bodies against the Waves. For that while they thus cleave the Waves at the top, the Sea keeps their Fins close, and lightly flowing over the superficies of their Bodies becomes less burdensome, besides that it suffers not their Scales to rise.  
This I say is common to all Fish, except that Fish which is called Ellops; which as they report always swims with the Wind and Tide, not minding the erection or opening of the Scales, the Commissures of which do not lie next the Tail as in other Fish.  
Moreover the Tunie is so sensible of the Equinoxes and Solstices, that they teach even Men themselves without the help of any Astrological Table. For where the Winter Tropics overtake them, there they remain till the Vernal Equinox.  
As for that same Artifice of the Cranes, that keep themselves waking by clutching a ston in their Claws, how much more cunningly done is that of the Dolphin; for whom it is not lawful to stand still or be out of Motion: For it is the nature of the Dolphins to be always in Motion; so that when they cease to move, they also cease to live. And therefore when sleep seizes them, they raise their Bodies to the superficies of the Sea, and so sinking down again with their Bellies upward, are carried along with the Tide till they touch again the shore. wakened in that manner, with an impetuous noise they mount upward again, designing thus a kind of rest still intermixed with Motion. And the same thing is reported of the Tunnies for the same Reason.  
Having thus concluded their Mathematical foreknowledge of the Mutations of the Sun, of which Aristotle gives Testimony, let me now relate their skill in arithmetic; but first of all their knowledge in optics, of which Eschylus seems not to have been altogether ignorant. For these are his Words, Casting a Squint-eye, like the Tunny. For Tunnies seem to be dim-sighted of one Eye: And therefore they fling themselves into the Water so as to have the Land upon the Right-hand; and go a shore, so as to have it upon the Left. Prudently committing the care of their Bodies to the best Eye.  
But wanting arithmetic, in order to the Preservation of mutual Love and Society one with another, they arrived in such a manner to the perfection of that Science, that in regard they are extremely desirous to enjoy the Society of each other, they always make up their whole Fry into the Form of a Cube, and make a solid of the whole Number, consisting of six equal Planes: And then they swim in such order as to observe a due Plaesium on both sides. So then if the Observer of the Tunnies does but exactly take the Number of the Plane, he knows the whole Number of the shoal; well knowing that the depth is equal to the breadth and length. The Fish Amiae, which are another sort of Tunnies are so called, because they swim in shoals, as also the Pelamides, or Summer Whitings.  
As for the rest that are seen to swim in shoals and to observe a mutual Society, their Number is not to be expressed: And therefore let us proceed to those that observe a kind of private and particular Society one with another. Among which is the Pynnotheras of Chrysippus, being a certain Fish that diligently observes and watches the Fish called the Nacre, upon which he has expended so much Ink, that he gives it the precedency in all his Books both Physical and Ethical. For Chrysippus never knew the Spongother, or else he passed it over out of negligence.  
The Pinnother is so called from watching the she Fish called Pinna or the Nacre, and in shape resembles a Crab, and cohabiting within the Nacre, watches the opening of his Shell, and then going forth stays by the opened and gapping Shell, till he light upon some little Fish which he is able to conquer. Then entering the Shell again, he nips the Flesh of the Nacre to give him notice to shut his Shell: Which being done, they feed together within the fortification upon the common Prey.  
The sponge is governed by a certain little Creature more like a Spider then a Crab. For the sponge wants neither Sense nor Blood; but growing to the Stones as many other things do, has a peculiar Motion from its self, and to itself, which nevertheless stands in need as it were of a Monitor or Instructor. For being otherwise of a Substance loose and open, and full of holes and hollowness, by reason of the sloth and stupidity of it, the Spunge-watcher assists to give notice when any thing of Food enters the Cavities of it, at what time the sponge contracts itself, and falls to feeding. But if a Man approach and touch it, being nipp'd and admonished by the Spunge-watcher, it seems to shadder and shut up the Body of it, closing and condensing itself in such a manner, as makes it no easy thing to cut it from the place where it grows.  
The Purple Shell-fish also, called Porphyrae, clustring together in a kind of Mutual Society, build up little Combs for themselves like Bees, wherein they are said to generate: and culling out the choicest Substance of the Moss and Sea-weed that sticks to their Shells, they seem to be in a circular Commons among themselves, feeding outwardly the one upon the others Nourishment.  
But why should we admire Society in these Creatures, when the most savage and most unsociable of all Creatures which either Lakes, Rivers, or the Ocean nourishes, the Crocodile, shows himself the most Sociable and Grateful of Water-Monsters in the Banquets which he bestows upon the Trochilus: For the Trochilus is a sort of Water-Fowl, and he Guards and Watches over the Crocodile, not as one that feeds at his Table, but lives upon his scraps and leavings only. For when this bide observes the Crocodile asleep, and the Ichnenmon armed with mud and dirt ready to assail him, he never leaves crying and pecking him with his Beak, till he rouse the drowsy Monster. In return of which the Crocodile is so tame and gentle toward this bide, that he permits him to enter his yawning chaps, and is pleased with his picking out and cleansing away with his Beak the remainders of the devoured Flesh that sticks between his Teeth. And when the Monster has an Inclination to shut his Mouth, he gives the bide notice by a gentle loring of his Jaw, nor will he close his Chaps till he finds that the bide is flown away. The Fish which the Greeks call Hegemen or the Captain or Leader, is a small Fish, in bigness and shape-not much unlike a whiteing, but by reason of the roughness of his Scales is said to resemble a bide when she shakes her Feathers. This Fish always keeps company with the hugeous Whales, and swims before them to direct their course, least they should bruise themselves upon the shallows, or fall into any mershy Place, or narrow Haven, whence he could not easily get out again. Therefore the Whale follows him, as the Ship follows the Helm, directing his course with confidence. All other things whatever, whether Skiff, whether Beast or ston, that chance to light into the gaping gulf of the Whales Mouth, immediately perish, being swallowed by the Monster; but acknowledging his Conductor, he receives him and lodges him like an Anchor safely in his Jaws. There he sleeps, and all the while he takes his rest, the Whale lies still, and when his Guide comes forth again, the Whale proceeds, never forsaking him night nor day; or if he wander without his Leader, the Monster shipwrecks, like a Vessel cast upon a Rock, without a Helm. And this we saw not far from Anticyra, where they report, that in former times a Whale being cast and putrefying caused a Pestilence.  
Is it worth while then to compare the Observations of Community and Association with those Sympathies which Aristotle relates between Foxes and Serpents, because the Eagle is an Enemy to both? Or of the Horn-Owles with Horses, whose dung they love to scrape about the field and nestle in? For my part, I observe no such care of one another in Bees and Emmets, which by reason of their multitude, carry on and perfect their work in common, but have no particular care or consideration one of another. Rather we shall observe this difference more evidently, if we direct our discourses upon the most Ancient and Greatest Works of common Society, which are the works of generation and procreation of Off-spring. For in the first place, those Fish that frequent the shores next adjoining to vast Lakes or great Rivers, when they are near their time of bringing forth, retire up into those places, seeking the fresh-waters which are more gentle and voided of Brine. For Tranquillity is most convenient for such as bring forth; and there is most safety in Rivers and Lakes for their Young Ones as being freest from the devouring Monsters of the Sea. Which is the reason that there is the greatest plenty of Fish about the Euxin Sea, where there are no Whales but either small Sea-Calves, or little Dolphins. Besides, the mixture of Rivers, many in number, and those very large, that fall into the Pontus, make the mixture more kindly and proper for breeding, and bringing forth. And that is most wonderful which is reported of the Anthias, which Homer calls the Sacred Fish, though some interpret Sacred to signify great in that Place, as we call a great Bone as sacrum, and the epilepsy, being a great Disease, the Sacred Disease; though others interpret that to be Sacred, which ought not to be touched, as being dedicated to holy use. And Eracostbenes seems to take the Gilthead so called from the Golden-Hair about his Eyes, for the Sacred Fish; though many believe it to be Ellopps or Trout, from her Golden Scales; a Fish seldom seen, and difficult to be caught; yet many times it appears in the Rivers of Pamphylia. So that th●y that catch them are crowned, and their Boats are also adorned with Garlands, and as they pass along received and honoured with loud shouts and clapping of Hands. However it be, most People take An●hias to be a Sacred Fish, because that where the An hias appears, there are no Sea-monst●rs, but the Sp●nge-cutters dive boldly, and the Fish as scarcely sp●wn, as having a pledge for their security. And the reason is twofold, either because the Sea-monsters dread the Anthias, as Elephants dread a Hog, and lions a Cock, or else it is a sign that there are no Sea-monsters in those places, which the Anthias knows and observes as being an intelligent Fish, endued with sense and a good Memory.  
Then again the care of their young is common to both Sexes. For the Males never devour their Offspring; but remain and abide constantly by the Spawn, protecting it with a diligent watchfulness, as Aristotle relates; and those that accompany the Females moisten the Spawn with a small quantity of Milky Seed; for that otherwise the Spawn will not grow, but remains imperfect, and never arrives at the due proportion. Particularly the Fish called Phycides, Moles or Lepo's make themselves Nests in the Sea-weed to preserve their Spawn from the Waves.  
But the love of the Lamprey or Pout-Eel toward her Young Ones is beyond the Affection and Clemency of any the tamest of Creatures; for they lay an Egg, which being hatched, they nourish and carry them about not outwardly, but within their own Bowels, as if they could not breed their Young without a second Birth.  
When the Young Ones are somewhat grown, they put them forth again, and teach them to swim close by themselves, then resume them again through their Mouths into their Bellies, and afford them nourishment and safe retirement in their Bodys, till they are able to shift for themselves.  
No less admirable is the care of the tortoise as to the bringing forth and preserving her Young. For she retires out of the Sea to lay, but not being able to stay long upon the Land, she hides her Eggs in the Sand, covering them over gently with the lightest of the Gravel, and when she has thus sufficiently and assuredly concealed them, some report, that she marks and streaks the place with her Feet, that she may be able to know it again; others affirm, that the Female being driven away by Male, leaves her particular marks and signatures behind her. However it be, this is most wonderful that after an Observation of forty days( for in so many the Eggs come to break) she returns, and knowing where her Treasure lies, as well as any Man understands where he hides his Gold, she opens them with great Joy and Alacrity.  
Many Observations like to these are made of the Crocodile. But the Superstition of the Place will not allow a Man to dive into the reason of the causes: In regard the foreknowledge of this Creature is imputed more to Divinity then Reason. For neither farther nor nearer, but just so far as Nilus that Year will increase and cover the Land, thither she goes forth and lays her Eggs: Which the Country-men finding, are able to tell one another how far the River will over-flow that Year, so truly does that animal measure for himself, that tho she live in the Water, she may lay her Eggs dry. But the Young Ones being hatched, which soever of them so soon as they are come to life, does not seize whatever comes next, either upon a fly or a Worm, or a Straw, or a Tufft of Grass with his Mouth, the dam presently tears him to pieces with her Teeth. But those that are fierce and active she loves and cherishes, according to the judgement of the wisest Men, imparting her affection by the Rules of judgement, not the sway of Passion.  
The Sea-calves also bring forth upon the dry Land: but then fetching out their Young ones by degrees, they give them a taste of the Sea-water, and presently led them out again; and this they often do, till custom has made them bold, and brought them to love a Sea Life.  
Frogs when they couple, use a certain croaking invitation which is commonly called Ololygon; and when the Male has thus enticed the Female, they abide together all Night. For in the Water they cannot, and in the day time they are afraid to engender upon the Land, which in the Night time they do without control: At other times they croak more shrill and loud, and then it is a sign of Rain, and holds among the most assured Prognostics of wet weather.  
But what an absurdity, dearest Neptune, would this Passion of mine led me into, how ridiculous should I appear, if trifling among Sea-calves and Frogs I should omit one of the Marine Animals, the wisest and most beloved by the Gods? For what Nightingales are to be compared with the Halcyon for music, or who will presume to prefer the Swallows Industry, the Gentleness of the Dove, or the Art and Curiosity of the Bees to those virtues ascribed to the Halcyon? One iceland, as History tells us, in love with Latonas's Birth, received and entertained her. But when the Halcyon brings forth, about the Winter Tropic, the whole Ocean remains calm and undisturbed without the wrinkle of a Wave. So that there is not any other Creature for which Man has so great an affection, seeing that for her sake for seven days and seven nights together, in the depth of Winter, they sail without fear of shipwreck, and make their Voyages upon the Sea with greater safety then they travail upon the Land.  
But if it be required that we should make a brief recital of her particular virtues, she is so great an example of Conjugal Affection, that she does not keep company with her Mate for a single season, but for whole years together: and that not for wantonness, for she never couples but with her own, but out of affection and friendship, like a truly virtuous married Wife. And when her Mate through Age bccomes infirm and not able to bear her Company, she takes care of him, and feeds and carrys him about in his Old Age, never forsaking nor leaving him alone, but taking him upon her Shoulders, carrys him from place to place, never abandoning him till death.  
As to her affection toward her Young ones, and care of their preservation, so soon as she perceives her self near the time of her bringing forth, she presently betakes her self to the making of her Nest. For the building of which, she neither makes use of mud and dirt, nor props it up with Walls and Rafters, like the Swallows, nor does she weary several Members of her Body, like the Bees that employ their whole strength to complete their labour, and when they open their Cells, toil together in a narrow compass to divide their Apartments. For the Ha●cyon having but one single Instrument, one single Tool, which is her Bill nor any other help to assist her in labour and her care of her Young ones, what a wonderful Masterpiece of Workmanship does she er ct? Insomuch that it is a difficult thing for them that have not well considered it to believe their Eye-sight; her Workmanship seeming rather the Art of a Ship wright, then of a Common Builder, of all Inventions being the only Form not be overwhelmed and washed by the Waves. To this purpose she gathers the Thorns of the Sea-Needle, and twists and binds them together, s●me streight, others obliqne, like the Woof in the Loom where the Thread and Yarn are interwoven one within another, till she has framed a Nest round and oblong, resembling the usual Fisher-Boats. This when she has finished she launches into the Sea, where the Waves beating gently upon it, direct to reform what is amiss, by consolidating the loose and ill compacted Parts where the Water has forced any entrance: Insomuch that at length she fastens and strengtheners what she has put together in such a manner, that it is not to be broken or pierced either by Stones or Steel. Nor is the Symmetry and Form of the inside and cavity of the Nest less to be admired. For it is so contrived as only to receive her self; the entrance into it not being to be found out by any other Creature; nor can the Sea itself find a way into it. I am apt to believe that none of you ever saw this Nest. But for my own part, that have often seen, and handled one of them, I may safely say, that I 
In Delos Temple near Apollo's shrine,  
Something like this, a fabric most Divine,  Have seen: That is to say the Horned Altar, celebrated for one of the seven Wonders of the World, which without the help of Parget, Glue, solder, Past, or any other binding is only framed of Horns that grew on the right-side of the Head of the Beast.  
Now may the Deity be propitious to one that is somewhat Musical, and an Islander, while mildly I deride the questions which those Scoffers put, wherefore Apollo may not be called Triglobus o● the Mullet-shooter, 
This place is all defective: else how he came to fall into this discourse and to leap from Syrens to Mullets, is a riddle.  when we find that Venus is called the Mullet-Protectrix: for which reason she is honoured with Temples adjoining to the Sea, and sacred Rights; and certain it is that she is displeased when any Mullet is killed Therefore at Leptis the Priests of Neptune never eat any thing that breeds in the Sea; and you know the Mullet is in great Veneration among the Professors of the Eleusinian Mysteries; moreover that the Priestess of Juno at Argos abstains from the same Fish; and the reason is because the Mullets kil●… and destroy the Sea-hair, which is pernicious to Man▪ and therefore they spare those Creatures that are kind and beneficial to him. Then again we find among the Greeks Temples and Altars frequently dedicate●… to Diana Dictymna, so called from Dictys a Net, and Delphinian Apollo. And that same place which Apollo ha●… peculiarly chosen for himself, was first of all inhabited by the Cretans having a Dolphin for their Leader. For the Deity did not swim before his Army in another shape( as the Mythologists dream) but sending a Dolphin to direct them in their course, the Dolphin brought them to Cirrha. Story also tells us that they who were sent to Sinope by ptolemy Soter to fetch from thence Serapis and Bacchus, being driven by contrary Winds upon the cost of Malea, having the Peloponnesus upon their right hands, while they were thus wandring and out of their course, a Dolphin appeared before the Prow of the headmost Vessel, and as it were kindly inviting them, conducted them into safe Harbours and Roads, till by his good guidance and leading them, he at length brought the whole Fleet to Cyrrha. There, when they came to offer the usual Sacrifices for their safe landing, they came to understand, that of two Statues which were in the place, they were to take that of Pluto and carry it along with them; but as for that of Proserpina, they were only to make it clean and leave it behind. Probable it is that the Deity had a kindness for the Dolphin considering how much he delights in Music. For which reason Pindarus likens himself to the Dolphin, and confesses himself to be moved in the same manner as that noble Creature, 
Which Flutes beloved Sound,  
Excites to play  
Upon the calm and placid Sea.  Tho it is more probable that his Affection to Men is more pleasing to the Deity; being the only Creature that bears an Affection to Man, as he is a Man. For as for the Land-Animals, some kinds there are that fly him altogether, and the tamest and most gentle follow him and are familiar with him only for the Benefit and Nourishment which they receive from him; as the Dog, the Horse and Elephant. The Swallows by necessity constrained build in Houses, seeking shade and security but are no less afraid of Man then the Wild Beasts. Only to the Dolphin has nature bequeathed that excellent Quality so much sought for by the best of Philosophers, to love for no advantage. For that having no need at all of Man, he is a kind friend to all Men, and has lent his Assistance to many. There is no Man that is ignorant of the famous Story of Arion. And you my dear Friend, have seasonably put us mind of Hesiod, 
Thou didst not by a legal course  
Rightly conclude thy long discourse.  For when you had spoken so much in praise of the Dog, you should not have passed by the Dolphin. For it was a blind story of the Dog that barked and flew with violence upon the Murtherers. 'twas a more famous Story; that of the Dolphins that took the carcase of Hesiod thrown into the Nemean Sea, and readily receiving it from one to another, landed it at Rium whereby the murder came to be known.  
Myrtilus the Lesbian writes, that Enalus the Eolian being in Love with the Daughter of Phineus, who by the Command of the Oracle of Amphitrite, was cast from the Penthidian Rocks, when he understood it, threw himself also into the Sea, but was saved by a Dolphin and carried to Lesbos.  
But the gentleness and kindness of the Dolphin towards the Jasean Lad, was so extraordinary that it might be said to amount even to amorous Love. For he played and swam with him in the day time, suffered himself to be handled and bestrid by him: nor did he swim away with him, but joyfully carried him, which way soever the Lad by the motion of his body turned him, while the Jaseans flocked from all parts to the shore to behold the sight. At length the Lad being thrown from the Dolphins back by a terrible shower of Rain and Hail, was drowned. Which the Dolphin perceiving, took up the dead Youth, and threw himself upon the Land together with the body, from which he never stirred till he died out of his own Element: deeming it but just to partake of that end of which he seemed to have been the occasion to his Friend and Play-fellow. Nor can the Jaseans forget the Accident, but keep it still in remembrance by the stamp upon their coin, which is a Lad upon a Dolphins back. And from hence it was that the fabulous Stories of Coeranus gained Credit.  
He was a Parian by Birth, who residing at Byzantium, at what time a draft of Dolphins caught in a Net, were exposed to Sale, and in danger of Slaughter, bought them up all, and put them into the Sea again. It happened not long after that Coeranus took a Voyage in a Vessel of fifty Oars, carrying, as the story, goes several pirates. But between Naxus and the Bay of Paros he suffered shipwreck; and when all the rest were drowned, he alone was taken up by a Dolphin that hastened to his Succour, and carried to Sycynthos, and set a shore near the Cave, which to this day bears the name of Coeraneum. Upon which Archilochus is said to have made these Lines.  
Of fifty Men, Great Neptune, gentle grown  
Left Courteous Coeranus alive for one.  
Some years after Coeranus dying, his Relations burnt his Body near the Sea side; at what time several Dolphins appeared near the shore, as if they had come to his Funeral; nor would they stir till the Funeral was over. Moreover Stesichorus writes that Ulysses bore a Dolphin painted upon his Shield; and for what reason, the Zacynthian Records tell us, as Critheus testifies: for they say that Telemachus when he was but a Boy falling into the Sea was saved by the Dolphins that took him up and set him a shore. And therefore he made use of a Dolphin for the Impression of his Seal, and the Ornament of his Shield. But having promised before that I would produce no fabulous Stories; and yet being carried I know not how, to discourse beyond probability of Dolphins, by this repetition of the Stories of Coeranus and Ulysses, I will do Justice upon myself, by concluding here.  Aristotimus. 
Now Gentlemen, it lies on your part that are the Judges, to pronounce Sentence.  Soclares. 
Assuredly then, for our parts, we shall give the same judgement in this, as Sophocles did in another Case; 
Discourse upon discording Arguments,  
Is then determined best, when what was said  
Is duly weighed and stated on both sides.  For thus comparing what you have both discoursed one against another, it will be found that ye have acquitted yourselves on both sides like true Champions against those that would deprive Brute Animals of Sense and Understanding.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
That Brute Beasts make use of Reason. Ulysses, Circe, Gryllus.  Translated from the Greek by Sir A. J. 
ALL these things Circe, I believe that I have learnt and well remember. But I would willingly ask thee, whether thou hast any Grecians here, which being Men thou hast transformed into Wolves and lions.  Circe. 
Very many, dearest Ulysses, but wherefore do you ask the Question?  Ulys. 
Because in good truth, I am of Opinion, I should gain a High Reputation among the Greeks, if by thy favour I could restore these Men to human shape again, and not suffer them through any negligence of mine to wax old in the Bodies of Beasts, where they led a miserable and ignominious Life.  Circe. 
Surely this Man; fool as he is, believes it requisite that his Ambition should be unfortunate not only to his Friends, but to those that nothing belong to him.  Ulys. 
Thou art now jumbling and mixing another villainous Potion of twittle twattle, and wouldst plainly turn me into a Beast too, if thou couldst make me believe that it were a misfortune to be transformed from a Beast to a Man.  Circe. 
What hast thou made thyself better then a beast, who forsaking an immortal Life, free from the Miseries of Old Age, with me, art making such hast through a thousand threatening Calamities to a Mortal, and as I may say, Old Wife, pursuing an empty Good and a Shadow instead of real Truth, and all this, thinking to be more conspicuous and famous then thou art.  Ulys. 
Well Circe, let it be as thou sayest; for why should we be always contending about the same thing; however do me the favour to restore these Men, and give 'em into my Custody.  Circe. 
By Hecate not so fast neither: these are no ordinary Fellows: but ask 'em first, whether they are willing. If they refuse, do you being such an Eloquent Gentleman, discourse 'em and persuade 'em: if you cannot persuade 'em, being too hard for ye at your own Weapon, then let it suffice ye that you have ill consulted your own and the good of your Friends.  Ulys. 
Blessed Woman wherefore dost thou mock me thus; for how can they either talk or hear reason; so long as they are Asses, Hogs and lions?  Circe. 
Be of good comfort most ambitious of Men; I will so order the business, that they shall both understand and discourse: or rather, let one suffice to hear and return answers instead of all the rest: Look ye, here's one at hand; pray talk to him.  Ulys. 
prithee, Circe, by what name shall we call him? Who is this fellow of all t●e Men in the World?  Circe. 
What's this to the purpose? Call him Gryllus if you please; and for my part, I'll leave ye together, that you may not suspect him for speaking contrary to his mind to please me.  Gryll. 
Save ye, Mr. Ulysses.  Ulys. 
And you too, by Jove, Mr. Gryllus.  Gryll. 
What is't, your Worship would have with me?  Ulys. 
I knowing you were all born Men, pity the Condition ye are now in: and I pity ye the more, for that being Greeks ye are fallen under this misfortune: and therefore I made it my request to Circe, that she would restore ye again to your former shape, as many of you as were desirous, to the end ye might return home again with us.  Gryll. 
Hold Mr. Ulysses, not a word more of this I beseech your worship. For we all contemn thee, as one that none but fools call cunning, and as vainly vauntst thyself to be wiser then other Men, and yet art afraid of being changed from worse to better; like Children that are frightn'd at Physitians Doses, and hate going to School, although the Medicines and the Precepts of diseased and fools make them healthy and learned; just as thou refusest to be transformed out of one thing into another: and now thy bones rattle in thy skin for dread of living with Circe, least she should transform thee into a Hog or a W●lf; and wouldst persuade us living in Plenty of all Enjoyments not only to forsake these Blessings, but to abandon her that has so well provided for us to sail along with thee, and to become Men again, the most miserable of all Creatures.  Ulys. 
In my Opinion Gryllus, this same wicked Cup has not only deprived thee of thy shape, but of thy sense and reason too: or else thou art got drunk with those Opinions which are every where exploded as nasty and villainous: unless some voluptuous pleasure of custom and habit has betwitch'd thee to this Body.  Gryll. 
Neither of these, O King of the Cephallenians. But if thou art come hither to dispute, and not to rail and swagger, we shall soon convince thee having Experience of both manners of living, that our way is to be preferred before that which thou so much applaudest.  Ulys. 
Nay then go on; I'll listen with both Ears to hear this Paradox discussed.  Gryll. 
Have at ye then, Sir; but it behoves us to begin first with those virtues which you so presumptuously assume to yourselves, and for which you so highly advance yourselves before the Beasts, such as Justice, Prudence, Fortitude, &c. Now answer me, thou the wisest among Mortals; For I have heard thee telling a story to Circe of the Territory of the Cyclops, that being neither ploughed nor planted by any Person, it is so fertile and generously productive, that it bears all sorts of Fruits and Herbs spontaneously. Now which do you prefer, this Country, or your own Goat feeding stony 
Val di Compare.  Ithaca, which being cultivated with great labour and hardship, yet little as it is, and barren, scarce answers the Expectations of the Husband-men? now take it not amiss that I forewarn ye least your Love to your Country sway ye to give an answer contrary to Truth.  Ulys. 
No, no, I will not lie for the matter: I must confess I Love and Honour my own Country more; But I applaud and admire theirs far beyond it.  Gryll. 
Hence we must conclude that it is so as the wisest of Men has affirmed; that there are some things to be praised and approved, others to be preferred by choice and affection. And I suppose you believe the same concerning the Soul. For the same reason holds in reference to the Soul as to the ground; that such a Soul should be the best that produces virtue like spontaneous Fruit without Labour and toil.  Ulys. 
Grant all this.  Gryll. 
Then you confess that the Souls of Beasts are the more perfect, and more fertilly endued for the Production of virtue; seeing that without any Command or Document it produces and increases that virtue which is requisite for every one.  Ulys. 
Prithee Gryllus don't rave, but tell me what those virtues are that Beasts partake of?  Gryll. 
Rather, what virtues do they not partake of in a higher degree then the wisest of Men? Look upon Fortitude in the first place of which you vaunt and brag to have such a terrible share, and are not ashamed of the magnificent ●itles of Ulysses the Bold, and City-Stormer, when indeed like a pitiful Knave, as thou art, thou dost only circumvent by Tricks and Artifices Men that only understand the simplo and generous way of making War, ignorant altogether of Fraud and Faith-breaking, and by that means cover'st thy deceit with the name of virtue which never admits of any such Coney-catching Devices. But you observe the Combats and Warfare of Beasts as well one against another as against yourselves, how free from Craft and Deceit they are, and how with an open and naked Courage they defend themselves by mere strength of Body; and how neither afraid of the Law that calls them forth to Battle, nor the severe Edicts against deserters, but only out of scorn to be overcome, they fight with obstinacy to the last for Conquest and Victory. For they are not vanquished when their Bodies are worsted, neither does despair cowardice them, but they die upon the spot: And you shall see many times that the strength of many, while expiring, being retired and crowded together in some part of the body, still makes resistance against the Victor, and pants and fumes till at length it fails like extinguished Fire that goes out for want of Fuel. But there is no crying for Quarter, no begging of Mercy; no acknowledgement of being beaten; nor will the lion be a slave to the lion, nor the Horse to the Horse, as one Man is a slave to another, willing and patiently embracing Servitude, the effect of fear and cowardice. On the other side such Beasts as Men by Nets and treacherous Snares get into their Power, if fully grown, they rather choose to die then serve, refusing Nourishment and suffering extremity of Drought. But as for their young Ones, being tractable and suppling by reason of their Age, and fed with the deceitful mixtures and food that Men provide for them, their inbred fierceness languishing through the taste of preternatural Delights, they suffer that which is called Domestication, which is only an Effeminating of their natural fury. Whence it is apparent that Beasts are naturally inclined to be courageous and daring, but that the marshal confidence of Men is preternatural. Which most noble U●ysses you may chiefly observe from hence: for that in Beasts, Nature keeps an equal balance of Strength: so that the Female being but little Inferior to the Male, undergoes all necessary toils, and fights in defence of her young Ones. And thus you hear of a certain Cromyonian Sow, which tho a Female held Theseus tack, and found him work sufficient. Neither had the Wisdom of that same Female sphinx that pestered Phycium with her Riddles and Enigma's availed her, had she not far excelled the Cadmaeans in Strength and Fortitude. Not far from whence the Telmesian Fox had his Den, a great propounder of Questions also; not to omit the Female Serpent that fought with Apollo for his Oracle at Delphos. Your King also took the mere Aetha from the Sicyonian as a bribe to discharge him from going to the Wars, to show how much he esteemed a valiant and generous mere above a timorous Coward. You yourself have also seen Female Panthers and Lionesses little Inferior to the Males in Strength and Courage: when your own Wife, tho a Lacedemonian, when you were hectoring and blustering abroad, sate at home in the Chimney-Corner, not daring to encounter the Swallows that plagued both her and her Family. Whence it is apparent that Fortitude is not natural to Men, for then the Women, would partake of it. So that the Fortitude which you exercise is only constrained by Law, not natural and voluntary, but subservient to the manners of the Place, and enslaved to reproach; a thing made up only of glorious Words and adventitious Opinion: And you undergo labour, and throw yourselves into danger, not out of a real Valour and Boldness, but because ye are more afraid of the other. Therefore as among thy own Companions, he that first makes hast to snatch up the light Oar, does it not because he contemns it, but because he is loathe to be troubled with the more heavy, so he that endures a blow to avoid a wound, and defends himself against an Enemy to preserve himself from Wounds and Death, does it not out of daring courage against the one, but out of fear of the other. Thus your Fortitude is only a prudent fear; and your Courage, a knowing Timidity, which understandingly does one thing to avoid another. In short, if you believe yourselves superior to the Beasts in Fortitude, why do your Poets call those that behave themselves most valiantly against their Enemies Wolf breasted, Lyon-hearted, and compare them to Wild-boars? but never called the Courage of lions Man-like, or resembled the Strength of a Wild-boar to that of a Man. But as they call the swift Wind-footed, and the beautiful Godlike-form'd, hyperbolizing in their similes; so when they extol the Gallantry of the stout in Battle, they derive their Comparisons from the Superior in Bravery. The reason is because Courage is as it were the tincture and edge of Fortitude; which the Beasts make use of unmixed in their Combats, but in you being mixed with Reason, like Wine diluted with Water, it gives way to danger, and loses the opportunity. And some of you there are who deny that Courage is requisite in Battle, and therefore laying it aside, make use of sober Reason; which they do well for their preservation, but are shamefully beside the cushion in point of Strength and Revenge. How absurd therefore is it for you to complain of Nature because she did not furnish your Bodies with goads, and Teeth, and crooked Claws to defend yourselves, when at the same time you would disarm the Soul of her natural Weapons?  Ulys. 
In good truth, Gryllus, you are grown, in my conceit, a notable Sophister, to discourse at this rate out of a Hogs snout, and yet to handle your Argument so strenuously. But why have you not all this while spoken a word of Temperance.  Gryll. 
Because I thought you would have contradicted first what I have already said. But you are in hast to hear what I have to say concerning Temperance, because that being the Husband of a most temperate and chast Wife, you believe you have set us an Example of Temperance by abstaining from Circe's Embraces; and yet in this you differ nothing from all the Beasts; for neither do they desire to approach their Superiors; but pursue their Pleasures and Amours among those of their own Tribe.  
No wonder is it then, if like the Mendesian Goat in Egypt, which is reported to have been shut up with several and those most beautiful Women, yet never offered copulation with them, but when he was at liberty with a lustful fury flew upon the she Goats; so thou, tho a Man addicted greatly to Venereal Pleasures, yet being a Man, hast no desire to sleep with a Goddess. And for the Chastity of thy Penelope the ten thousand Rooks and Daws that chatter it abroad do but make it ridiculous and expose it to Contempt, there being not one of those Birds but if she loses her Mate, continues a Widow not for a small time, nor for nine Ages of Men: so that there is not one of those Female Rooks that does not surpass in chastity thy fair Penelope above nine times.  
But because thou believest me to be a Sophister, I shall observe a certain order in my Discourse, first giving thee the Definition of Chastity, and then dividing Desire according to the several kinds of it. Chastity then is the contracting and well governing our desires, pruning off those that are superfluous and encroach upon our Wills, and ruling those that are necessary by the Standards of Season and Moderation. Now in desires you observe a vast number of Distinctions; as it is both natural and necessary to drink. But as for Venereal Desires, which derive their Originals from Nature; there is a time when they may be refrained without any inconvenience: These are therefore called Physical and not natural. But there is another sort which are neither natural, nor necessary, but infused from without by vain Opinion through the mistake of right and true; and these are they that want but very little of ruining all your natural desires with their number, like a multitude of Foreigners outnumbring the Natives, and expelling them from their Habitations. But the Beasts having their Souls unmixed, and not to be overcome by these Adventitious Passions; and living Lives as distant from vain Opinion as from the Sea, are inferior to you in living elegantly and superfluously: but they are extremely wary in the preservation of their Chastity, and the right Government of their Desires, as being neither troubled with many, nor those Foreign to their Natures: and therefore formerly I was no less smitten with the Glister of Gold then thou art now, as believing nothing else that a Man could possess to be comparable to it. Silver also and Ivory inveagl'd me with the same desires; and he that enjoyed these things in the greatest measure seemed to be a Man most happy and beloved of God, whether a Phrygian or a Carian, whether more meanly descended then Dolo, or more miserable then Priamus. From thence forward being altogether swayed by my desires, I reaped no other pleasure nor delight in any other Blessings of my Life, with which I abounded, believing that I wanted still and mist my share of those that were the chiefest and the greatest. Therefore I remember, when I beholded thee in Creet, at some Solemnity, most pompously attired, I neither envied thy Wisdom, nor thy virtue, but the extraordinary fineness and exquisite Workmanship of thy Tunic, and the glystering of thy Purple upper Garment, and the Beauty of the Ornaments that strook me with admiration: and the Golden Clasp, me thought, was a pretty Toy that had something of extraordinary Graving in it; and bewitched with these Baubles I followed thee as the Women did. But now being altogether estranged from those vain Opinions, and having my understanding purified I tread both Gold and Silver under my feet as I do the common Stones: nor did I ever sleep more soundly upon thy Carpets and Tapestries, then now I do, rolled over head and ears in the deep and soft Mud. None of those adventitious desires reside in our Souls; but for the most part our manner of living is accustomed to necessary Pleasures and Desires: and as for those pleasures which are not necessary but only natural, we make such a use of them as is neither without order nor moderation. And therefore let us consider these in the first place.  
The Pleasure then, that affects the sense of smelling with sweet odours and fragrant Exhalations besides that it has something in it, which is pure in itself, and as it were bestowed upon us gratis, contributes also in some measure to the distinction of nourishment. For the Tongue is said to be the Judge of sweet, sour and tart, when the several juices intermixed with the distinguishing taste, undergo a kind of separation. But our smell, before the taste, becoming sensible of the virtue and qualities of every one, and being more accurate then the Tasters attending upon Princes, admits what is familiar to Nature, and expels whatever is disagreeable to it: Neither will it suffer it to touch or molest the taste, but accuses and declares the offensiveness of the thing smelled, before it do any harm. As to other things they breed no disturbance to it, constraining ye for the sake of the sweet scents of Cinnamon, Nard, Cephalic Herbs, and Aromatic Reed, to seek out for things dissimilar, and jumble them together with a kind of Apothecaries or Perfumers Art, and at vast expense to purchase an unmanly and effeminat delight, for nothing profitable or useful. Now being such, this sense of smelling has not only corrupted all the Female Sex, but the greatest part of Men, insomuch that they care not to converse with their own Wives, unless perfumed with precious ointments, and odiferous compositions. Whereas Sows, she Goats and other Females attract the Boars, he Goats, and the males of their own kind by their own proper Scents; and the smell of the pure due, the Meadows and Grass incites them to copulation out of common affection; the Females, without the Coynesses of Women, or the practise of little Frauds and Fascinations to inflame the lust of their Mates: nor are the Males, with amorous ●age and frienzy stimulated, enforced to purchase the Act of Generation with expensive hire or servile Assiduity, enjoying their seasonable Amours without deceit, or purchase of the satisfaction of their Venery; which at such a time of the Year, like the Buds of Plants, awaking their desire, is presently quenched again, neither the Female admitting the Male, nor the Male attempting the Female after Conception. And thus Pleasure has but a small and slender esteem among us. So that even to this very day we Beasts were never tainted yet with coupling Male with Male, and Female with Female. Of which nevertheless there are many Examples to be produced among the greatest and most celebrated Persons: For I pass by those not worth remembrance.  
Agamemnon hunted all Boeotia in pursuit of Argynus who fled his Embraces, and after he had falsely accused the Sea and Winds, flung himself bravely no less brave into the Lake Copais, to quench his Love, and free himself from the ardour of his Lust.  
Hercules in like manner pursuing his Beardless Friend, forsook his choicest Associates, and betrayed the Fleet.  
In the Supping Room belonging to Apollo surnamed Ptous, one of your Country-men unknown, wrote this Inscription, Achilles the fair; when Achilles at that time had a Son: And I hear the Inscription is still remaining. Yet if a Cock tread a Cock, in the absence of the Hen, he is burnt alive, upon the signification of the South sayer that it portends some fatal calamity. Which is a plain confession in Men themselves, that the Beasts excel them in chastity, and that Force is not to be put upon Nature for the sake of Pleasure. But your incontinence is such, that Nature, though she have the Law to assist her, is not able to keep it within Bounds; insomuch that like a rapid inundation, those inordinate desires overwhelm Nature with continual violence, trouble and confusion. For Men have copulated with she Goats, Sows and Mares: And Women have run Mad after Male Beasts: And from such Capulations sprung the Minotaurs and Silvans, and as I am apt to believe, the Sphinxes and Centaurs. 'tis true that sometimes constrained by hunger, a Dog or a bide has fed upon human Flesh, but never yet did any Beast attempt to couple with human Kind. But Men constrain and force the Beast to these and many other unlawful Pleasures.  
Now being thus wicked and incontinent in reference to the aforesaid lustful desires, it is no less easy to be proved that Men are more intemperate then Beasts, even in those things which are necessary; that is to say, in eating and drinking; the pleasure of which we always enjoy with some benefit to ourselves: But you pursuing the pleasure of eating and drinking beyond the satisfaction of Nature, are punished with many and tedious Diseases, which arising from the single Fountain of superfluous gormandizing, fill your Bodies with all manner of wind and vapours not easy for purgation to expel. In the first place, all sorts of Beasts according to their kind feed upon one sort of food which is proper to their Natures; some upon Grass, some upon Roots, and others upon Fruits. They that feed upon Flesh never mind any other sort of Food. Neither do they rob the weaker Animals of their nourishment: But the lion suffers the Hart, the Wolf permits the Sheep to feed upon what Nature has provided for them. But Man, such is his voracity, falls upon all, to satisfy the pleasures of his Appetite, tries all things, tastes all things; and as if he were yet to seek what was the most proper diet and most agreeable to his Nature, among all the Creatures is the only All devourer. And first he makes use of Flesh, not for want, as having the liberty to take his choice of Herbs and Fruits, the plenty of which is inexhaustible; but out of luxury and being cloyed with necessaries, seeks after inconvenient and impure diet purchased by the slaughter of living Creatures; by that means, showing himself more cruel then the most Savage of Wild Beasts. For Blood, Murder and Flesh are proper to nourish the Kite, the Wolf and Dragon, but to Man they are delicious viands. Then making use of all, he does not do like the Beasts, which abstain from most Creatures, and only are at enmity with a few, and that only compelled by the necessities of hunger; but neither Fowl, nor Fish, nor any thing that lives upon the Land escape your Tables, though they bear the epithets of Human and Hospitable. Let it be so: That nothing will serve ye but to devour whatever comes near ye to pamper and indulge your voracious Appetites. Yet where's the benefit and pleasure of your perpetual gormandizing, considering how you are forced to toil and labour for unprofitable experience? But such is the prudence of the Beasts as not to admit of any vain and unprofitable Arts: And as for those that are necessary, they do not acquire them as being introduced by others, or taught for reward; neither do they make it their study to solder and fast'n one contemplation to another, but they are supplied by their own prudence with such as are true born and genuine. 'tis true, we hear the Egyptians are generally Physicians. But the Beasts are not only every one of them nationally ●ndu'd with knowledge and Art which way to cure themselves, but also to procure their Food, and repair their strength; to catch their prey by slight and cunning, to guard themselves from danger; neither are some of them ignorant how to teach the Science of Music so far as is convenient for Them. For from whom did we learn to run to the Rivers when we are Sick, to search for Crey-fish but from the Hogs? Who taught the Tortoises when they have eaten Vipers, to Physic themselves with basil? Who taught the Cretan Goats, when shot with Arrows that stick in their Bodys, to betake themselves to Dittany? Which they have no sooner eaten, but the Heads of the Darts fall out of the Wound. Now if you say that Nature is the School-Mistress that teaches them these things, you aclowledge the prudence of Beasts to be derived from the chiefest and wisest Original of Understanding. Which if you think not proper to call reason and wisdom, 'tis time for ye to find out a more glorious and honourable name for it; as indeed by its effects it shows itself to be greater and more wonderful in power: Not illiterate or without Education, but instructed by its self, and wanting nothing from without; not weak and imperfect, but through the vigour and perfection of its natural virtue, supporting and cherishing that natural contribution of understanding which others attain to by Instruction and Education. So that whatever Men acquire and contemplate in the midst of their luxury and wantonness, those things our understanding attains to, through the excellency of our apprehensions, even contrary to the Nature of the Body. For not to speak of Whelps that learn to draw dry Foot, and Colts that will practise Figure Dances, there are Crows that will speak, and Dogs that will leap through Hoops as they turn round. You shall also see Horses and Bulls upon the theaters lie down, dance, stop and move their Bodies after such a manner, as would puzzle even Men to perform the same things; which though they are of little use, yet being learnt and remembered by Beasts, is a great Argument of their Docility.  
If you doubt whether we learn Arts; he convinces you that we teach them. For partridges teach their Young Ones to hid themselves by lying upon their Backs just before a clod of Earth, to escape the pursuit, of the Fowlers. And you shall observe the Old Storks when their Young Ones first begin to take Wing, what care they take to instruct them upon the Tops of Houses. Nightingales also teach their Young Ones to Sing: Insomuch that Nightingales taken Young out of the Nest, and bread up by Hand in Cages, sing worse, as being deprived of their Instructors before their time. So that after I had been a while transformed into this shape I admired at myself, that I was so easily persuaded by idle Arguments of the Sophisters, to believe that all other Creatures were voided of sense and reason except Man.  Ulysses. 
Why then, Gryllus, does your Transmutation inform ye also that Sheep and Asses are rational Creatures?  Gryllus. 
From these very Creatures, most worthy and best of Men, Ulysses, the Nature of Beasts is chiefly to be discerned to be as it is, neither voided of Reason nor Understanding. For as one three is neither more or less without a Soul, but are altogether in the same condition of Insensibility( for there is no three that is endued with a Soul.) So neither would one Animal seem to be more slow to understand or more indocible then another, if all did not partake of Reason and Understanding, tho some in a less, some in a g●●●ter Measure. For you must consider that the stupi●ity and slothfulness of some is an Argument of the quickness and subtlety of others, which easily appears when you compare a Fox, a Wolf or a Bee with a Sheep or Ass: As if thou shouldst compare thyself to Polyphemus, or thy Grand-father Autolycus with that same Glaucus the Corinthian, mentioned in Homer. For I do not believe there is that difference between Beast and Beast, in Point of Reason and Understanding and Memory, as between Man and Man.  Ulysses. 
Have a care, Gryllus, 'tis a dangerous thing to allow them Reason, that have no knowledge of a Deity.  Gryllus. 
Must we then deny thyself, most noble Ulysses, to be so wise and full of Stratagems as thou art esteemed to be, because begot by Sisyphus that got the start of thy Father upon the Wedding day?***   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V. Of the Face, appearing within the Orb of the Moon. Translated out of the Greek by A. G. Gent. The Beginning of this Discourse is lost.  
THese things then, said Sylla. For it agrees with my Story, and is taken thence. But I should first willingly ask, what need there is of making such a Preamble against these Opinions, which are at hand, and in every Mans Mouth, concerning the Face, that is seen within the Orb of the Moon. Why should we not, said I, being by the Difficulty, there is in these Discourses, forced upon those? For as they, who have long lain lingering under chronical Diseases, after they have been worn out and tired with experimenting all ordinary Remedies, and the usual Rules of Living, and Diet, have at last Recourse to Lustrations and Purifications, to Charms and annulets fastened about the Neck, and to the Interpretation of Dreams: so in such obscure, and abstruse Questions and Speculations, when the common, apparent, and ordinary Reasons are not satisfactory, there is a necessity of trying such as are more extravagant, and of not contemning, but enchanting ourselves, as one may say, with the Discourses of the ancients, and endeavouring always to find out the Truth. For you see at the very first blushy, how impertinent his Opinion is, who said, that the Form, appearing in the Moon, is an Accident of our Sight, by its Weakness giving way to her Brightness, which we call the dazzling of our Eyes: for he perceives not, that this should rather befall our Looking against the Sun, whose Lustre is more resplendent, and his Rays more quick and piercing, as Empedocles also in a certain Passage of his, has not unpleasantly noted the difference of these two Planets, saying: The sharp-ray'd Sun, and 
Instead of {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}, a Name given to the Moon by Empedocles and here by Plutarch deduced from {αβγδ}, propitious, or favourable.  gently-shining Moon: For thus does he call her alluring, favourable, and harmless Light. No less absurd appears the Reason, he afterwards gives, why dull and weak Eyes discern no difference of Form in the Moon, her Orb appearing to them plain and smooth; whereas those, whose Sight is more acute and penetrating, better descry the Lineaments, and more perfectly observe the Impressions of a Face, and more evidently distinguish its different Parts. For it should, in my Opinion, be quiter contrary, if this were a Fancy, caused by the Weakness of the vanquished Sight: so that where the Patients Eye is weaker, the Appearance would be more express and evident. Moreover, the Inequality every way confutes this Reason: for this Face is not seen in a continuate and confused Shadow; but the Poet Agesianax not unelegantly describes it, saying, 
With shining Fire, it circled deos appear,  
And in the midst is seen the Visage clear  
Of a young Maid, whose Eye's more gray than blew,  
Her Brow and Cheeks a blushing read do show.  For indeed dark and shady things, encompassed with others, that are bright and shining, sink underneath, and reciprocally rise again, being repelled by them, and, in a Word, they are so interlaced one within another, that they represent the Figure of a Face painted to the Life: and there seems to have been great Probability in that, which was spoken against Clearchus by Aristotle, who appears not inconveniently to be called yours. For this Aristotle of yours was intimately acquainted with the ancient one, although he perverted many of the Peripatetic doctrines.  
Then Apollonides taking up the Discourse, and asking, what that Opinion of Clearchus was: It would more, said I, beseem any Man, than you, to be ignorant of this Discourse, as being grounded on the very fundamental Principles of Geometry. For he affirms, that what we call a Face, are the Images and Figures of the great Ocean, represented in the Moon, as in a Mirror. For the Circumference of a circled, being every way reflected back, is wont to deceive the Sight in such things, as cannot be directly seen. And the full Moon is for Evenness and Lustre the most beautiful and purest of all Mirrors. As then you hold, that the Heavenly Bow appears, when the Light is reflected back towards the Sun in a Cloud, that has got a little liquid Smoothness and Consistence: so, said he, there is seen in the Moon the Surface of the Sea, not in the Place, where it is situated, but from whence the Refraction gives a Sight of it by its reverberated and reflexed Light, as Agesianax again says in another Passage: 
This flaming Mirror offers to your Eyes  
The vast Seas Figure, as beneath it lies  
Foaming with raging Billows.—   
Apollonides therefore, being delighted with this, said: A singular Opinion indeed is this of his, and, to speak in a Word, strangely and newly invented by a Man, sufficiently presumptuous, but not voided of Learning and Wit. But how, I pray, was it refuted?  
First, said I, if the Superficies of the Sea is all of a Nature, the Current of it must be uniform and continuate, but the Appearance of those black and dark Spots, which are seen in the Face of the Moon, is not continued, but it has certain Isthmes or Partitions clear and bright, which divide and separate what is dark and shady. Whence every Place being distinguished, and having its own Limits apart, the Approachings of the Clear to the Obscure, taking a Resemblance of High and Low, express and represent the Similitude of a Figure, seeming to have Eyes and Lips: so that we must of necessity suppose, either that there are many Oceans and main Seas, distinguished by Isthmes and Continents of firm Land, which is evidently absurd and false; or that if there is but one, 'tis not credible, its Image should appear so distracted and dissipated by pieces; and as for this, 'tis more secure, and there is less Danger in asking, than in affirming in your Presence: Whether the habitable Earth being equal in Length and Breadth, it is possible, that all the Sight, reflected and sent back by the Moon, should equally touch the whole Ocean, and those that sail, and dwell in it, as do the Britains: especially since the Earth, as you have maintained, has but the Proportion of a Point, if compared to the Sphere of the Moon. This therefore, said I, 'tis your Business to observe, but the Refraction of the Sight against the Moon belongs neither to you nor Hipparchus. And yet, my Friend Lamprias, there are many Naturalists, who approve not this Doctrine of his touching the driving back of the Sight; but affirm it to be more probable, that it has a certain obedient and agreeing Temperature and Compactness of Structure than such Beatings and Repercussions, as Epicurus feigned for his Atoms. Nor am I of Opinion, that Clearchus would have us suppose the Moon not to be a massy and weighty Body, but a celestial and light-giving Star, against which, you say, this Refraction of our Sight should reach: so that all this Reflection and Reverberation comes to nothing. But if we are desired to receive and admit it, we shall ask why this Face or Image of the Sea is to be seen only in the Body of the Moon, and not in any of the other Stars? For the Laws of Probability require, that the Sight should suffer this equal in all, or else in none.  
But pray, Sir, said I, casting mine Eyes upon Lucius, call a little to mind, what was said at first by those of our Party.  
Nay rather, answered he, lest we should seem too injurious to Pharnaces, in thus passing by the Opinion of the stoics, without opposing any thing against it, let us make some Reply to this Man, who supposes the Moon to be wholly a Mixture of Air and mildred Fire: and then says, that, as in a Calm there sometimes arises on a sudden a Breez of Wind, which curls and ruffles the Superficies of the Sea, so, the Air being darkened and rendered black, there is an Appearance and Form of a Face.  
You do courteously, Lucius, said I, thus to veil and cover with specious Expressions so absurd and false an Opinion. But so did not our Friend, but said, as the Truth is, that the stoics disfigured and mortified the Moons Face, filling it with Stains and black Spots, one while invocating her by the Name of Diana and Minerva, and another while making her a Lump and Mixture of dark Air and Char-coal Fire, not kindling of itself, or having any Light of its own, but a Body hard to be judged and known, always smoking, and ever burning, like to those Thunders, which are by the Poets styled lightless and sooty. Now, that a Fire of Coals, such, as they would have that of the Moon to be, cannot have any Continuance, nor yet so much as the least Subsistence, unless it meets with some solid Matter, fit to maintain it, keep it in, and feed it, has, I think, far better than it is by these Philosophers, been understood by those Poets, who in merriment affirm, that Vulcan was therefore said to be lame, because Fire can no more go forward without Wood or fuel, than a cripple without a Crurch. If then the Moon is Fire, whence has it so much Air? For that Region above, which is with a continual Motion carried round, consists not of Air, but some more excellent Substance, whose Nature it is to subtilize and set on fire all other things. And if it has been since engendered there, how comes it, that it does not perish, being changed and transmuted by the Fire into an ethereal and heavenly Substance? And how can it maintain and preserve itself, cohabiting so long with the Fire, as a Nail always fixed and fastened in one and the same Place? For being rare, and diffused, as by Nature it is, 'tis not fitted for Permanency and Continuance, but for Change and Dissipation; neither is it possible, that it should condense and grow compact, being mixed wi●h Fire, and utterly voided of Water and Earth, the only two Elements, by which the Nature of the Air suffers itself to be brought to a Consistency and Thickness. And since the Swiftness and Violence of Motion is wont to inflame the Air, which is in Stones, and even in led itself, as could as it is: much more will it that, which, being in Fire, is with so great an Impetuosity whirled about. For they are displeased with Empedocles for making the Moon a Mass of Air, conge●l'd after the manner of Hail, included within a Sphere of Fire. And yet they themselves say, that the Moon, being a Globe of Fire, contains in it much Air dispersed here and there; and this, thô it has neither Ruptures, Concavities, nor Depths( which they, who affirm it to be earthy, admit;) but the Air lies superficially on its Convexity. Now this is both against the Nature of Permanency, and impossible to be accorded, with what we see in full Moons: for it should not appear separately black and dark, but either be wholly obscured and concealed, or else co-illuminated, when the Moon is overspread by the Sun. For with us the Air, which is in the Pits and Hollows of the Earth, whither the Rays of the Sun cannot penetrate, remains d●rk and lightless; but that, which is spread over its exterior Parts, has Clearness, and a lightsome Colour. For it is by reason of its Rarity easily transformed into every Quality and Faculty, but principally of Light and Brightness, by which, being never so little touched, it incontinently changes, and is illuminated. This Reason therefore, as it seems greatly to help and maintain the Opinion of those, who thrust the Air into certain deep Valleys and Caves in the Moon: so it confutes you, who mix and compose her Sphere, I know not how, of Air and Fire. For it is not possible, that there should remain any Shadow or Darkness in the Superficies of the Moon, when the Sun with his Brightness clears and enlightens, whatsoever we can discern of her, and cut with our Sight.  
Whilst I was yet speaking, Pharnaces, interrupting my Discourse, said: See here again the usual Stratagem of the Academy, brought into play against us, which is to busy themselves at every turn in speaking against others, but never to afford an Opportunity for reproving, what they say themselves: so that those, with whom they confer and dispute, must always be Respondents and Defendants, and never Plaintiffs or Opponents. You shall not therefore bring me this Day to give you any Account of those things, you charge upon the stoics, till you have first rendered me a Reason for your turning the World upside down.  
Then Lucius smiling, said: This, good Sir, I am well contented to do, provided only, that you will not accuse us of Impiety, as Aristarchus thought, that the Greeks ought to have called Cleanthes the Samian into question, and condemned him of Blasphemy against the Gods, as shaking the very Foundations of the World, because this Man, endeavouring to save the Appearances, supposed, that the Heavens remained immovable, and that the Earth moved thrô the obliqne circled of the zodiac, turning about its Axle three. As for us therefore, we say nothing, that we take from them. But how do they, my good Friend, who suppose the Moon to be Earth, turn the World upside down, more than you, who say, that the Earth remains here hanging in the Air, being much greater than the Moon, as the Mathematicians measure their Magnitude by the Accidents of Eclipses, and by the Passages of the Moon thrô the Shadow of the Earth, gathering thence, how great a Space it takes up? For the Shadow of the Earth is less than itself, by reason it is cast by a greater Light. And that the end of this Shadow upwards is slender and pointed, they say, that Homer himself was not ignorant, but plainly expressed it, when he called the Night {αβγδ}, that is, acute, from the sharp pointedness of the Earths Shadow. And yet the Moon in her Eclipses, being caught within this Point of the Shadow, can scarce get out of it by going forward thrice her own Bigness in Length. Consider then, how many times the Earth must needs be greater than the Moon, if it casts a Shadow, the narrowest Point of which is thrice as broad as the Moon. But you are perhaps afraid, lest the Moon should fall, if it were acknowledged to be Earth; but as for the Earth, Aeschylus has secured you, when he says that Atlas 
Like a firm Pillar, heaven and Earth sustains,  
Whilst on his Back a heavy Weight remains.  If then there runs under the Moon only a light Air, not firm enough to bear a solid burden, whereas under the Earth there are, as Pindar says, Columns and Pillars of Adamant for its Support: and therefore Pharnaces himself is out of all dread of the Earths falling; but he pities the Aethiopians, and those of Taprobane, who ly directly under the Course of the Moon, fearing, lest so ponderous a Mass should tumble upon their Heads. And yet the Moon has, for an help to preserve her from falling, her Motion, and the Impetuosity of her Revolution: As Stones, Pebbles, and other Weights, put into Slings, are kept from dropping out, whilst they are swung round, by the swiftness of their Motion. For every Body is carried according to its natural Motion, unless it be diverted by some other intervening Cause. Wherefore the Moon does not move according to the Motion of her Weight, her Inclination being stopped and hindered by the Violence of a circulary Revolution. And perhaps there would be more reason to wonder, if the Moon continued always immovable in the same Place, as does the Earth. But now the Moon has a great Cause to keep her from tending hither downward; but for the Earth, which has no other Motion, 'tis probable, that it has also no other Cause of its Settlement, but its own weight. For the Earth is heavier than the Moon, not only because it is greater, but also because the Moon is rendered lighter by the Heat and Inflammation, that is in it. In brief, it appears by what you say, if 'tis true, that the Moon is Fire, it stands in need of Earth, or some other Matter, which it may rest on, and cleave to, for the maintaining and nourishing of its Power. For 'tis not possible to imagine, how a Fire can be preserved without some combustible Matter: and you yourselves say, that the Earth continues firm without any Basis or Pedestal, to support it.  
Yes surely, said Pharnaces, being in its proper and natural Place, the very middle and Center of the Universe. For this it is, to which all heavy and ponderous things do from every side naturally tend, incline, and aspire, and about which they cling, and are counterpoised. But every superior Region, thô it may perhaps receive some earthly and weighty thing, sent by violence up into it, immediately repels and casts it down again by force, or, to speak better, lets it follow its own proper Inclination, by which it naturally tends downward.  
For the Refutation of which being willing to give Lucius time for the calling to mind his Arguments, I addressed myself to Theon, and asked him, which of the tragic Poets it was, who said, that Physicians With bitter Med●cines bitter Choler purge; and Theon having answered me, that it was Sophocles: This, said I to him, we must of necessity permit them to do; but we are not to give ear to those Philosophers, who would overthrow Paradoxes by Assertions, no less strange and paradoxical, and, for the oppugning extravagant and admirable Opinions, device others, yet more wonderful and absurd: as these Men do, who broach and introduce this Doctrine of a Motion, tending towards the middle: in which what sort of Absurdity is there not to be found? Does it not thence follow, that the Earth is spherical and round, as a Ball, thô we nevertheless see it to have so many lofty Hills, so many deep valleys, and so great a Number of Inequalities? Does it not follow that there are Antipodes, dwelling opposite to one another, sticking on every side to the Earth, with their Heads downward, and their Heels upwards, as if they were Wood-worms or Cats, hanging by their Claws? That we ourselves go not on the Earth straight upright, and rectangular, but obliquely, and bending aside, like drunken Men? That if Bars and Weights of a thousand Talents a piece should be let fall into the Hollow of the Earth, they would, when they were come to the Center or Middle, stop and rest there, thô nothing came against them, or sustained them, and that, if peradventure they should by force pass the Middle, they would of themselves return and rebound back thither again? That if one should saw off the two Trunks or Ends of a Beam on either side of the Earth, they would not be always carried downward, but falling both from without into the Earth, they would equally meet and hid themselves together in the Middle? That, if a violent Stream of Water should run downward into the Ground, it would, when it came to the Center in the midst, which they hold to be an incorporeal Point, there gather together, and turn round like a Whirl-pool, hanging about a Pole, with a perpetual and endless Suspension? Some of which Positions are so absurd, that none can so much as force his Imagination, thô falsely, to conceive them possible. For this is indeed to make that, which is above, to be below, and to turn all things upside down, by placing that, which is in the Middle, beneath, and that, which is under the Middle, above: so that, if a Man should by the sufferance and Consent of the Earth stand with his Navel just against her Middle or Center, he would by this means have his Foot and Head both upwards; and if one, having digged thrô that place, which is beyond the Middle, should come to pull him out from thence, that Part, which is below, would at one and the same time be drawn upwards, and that, which is above, downward. And if another should be imagined to stand the contrary way, their Feet, thô the ones were opposite to the others, would both be, and be said to be upwards.  
Bearing then upon their Shoulders, and drawing after them, I do not say a little Bag or Box, but a whole Pack of jugglers Boxes, full of so many Absurdities, with which they play the Hocus Pocus in Philosophy, they nevertheless accuse others of Error, for placing the Moon, which they hold to be Earth, on high, and not in the Middle or Center of the World. And yet if every heavy Body inclines towards the same Place, and does from all sides, and with every one of its Parts tend to its Middle or Center, the Earth certainly will not appropriate and challenge to its self these ponderous Masses, which are its Parts, because it is the Center of the Universe, but rather because it is the Whole: and this gathering together of heavy Bodies round about it will not be a Sign, showing it to be the middle of the World; but an Argument, to prove and testify, that these Bodies which had been plucked from it, and again return to it, have a Communication and Conformity of Nature with the Earth. For as the Sun changes into himself the Parts, of which he is composed: so the Earth receives a ston, as a Part belonging to it, in such manner, that every one of these things is in time united, and incorporated with it. And if peradventure there is some other Body, which was not from the Beginning allotted to the Earth, nor has been separated from it, but had its own proper and peculiar Consistence and Nature apart, as these Men may say of the Moon, what hinders, but it may continue separated by itself, being kept close, compacted, and bound together by its own Parts? For they do not demonstrate, that the Earth is the Middle of the Universe: and this Conglomeration of heavy Bodies, which are here, and their Coalition with the Earth, show us the manner, how it is probable, that the Parts, which are assembled in the Body of the Moon, continue also there. But as for him, who drives and ranges together in one Place all earthly and ponderous things, making them Parts of one and the same Body; I wonder, that he does not attribute also the same Necessity and Constraint to light Substances, but leaves so many Conglobations of Fire separated from one another; nor can I see, why he should not amass together all the Stars, and think, that there ought to be but one Body of all those Substances, which fly upwards.  
But you Mathematicians, Friend Apollonides, say, that the Sun is distant from the Primum Mobile infinite 
Gr. {αβγδ}, that is, ten thousands of Stadia or Furlongs.  thousands of Miles, and after him the Day Star or Venus, Mercury, and other Planets, which, being situated under the fixed Stars, and separated from one another by great Intervals, make their Revolutions; and in the mean time you think, that the World affords not to heavy and terrestrial Bodies any great and large Place, or Distance one from another. You plainly see, it would be ridiculous, if we should deny the Moon to be Earth, because it is not seated in the lowest Region of the World, and yet affirm it to be a Star, thô so many Millions of Miles remote from the Firmament or Primum Mobile, as if it were plunged into some deep Gulf: for she is so low before all other Stars, that the Measure of the Distances cannot be expressed, and You, Mathematicians, want Numbers to compute and reckon it; but she in a manner touches the Earth, making her Revolution so near the Tops of the Mountains, that she seems, as Empedocles has it, to leave even the very Tracks of her Chariot-Wheel behind her: For oftentimes she surpasses not the shadow of the Earth, which is very short thrô the exceessive Greatness of the Sun, that shines upon it; but seems to turn so near the Superficies, and, as one may say, between the Arms, and in the Bosom of the Earth, that it withholds from her the Light of the Sun, because she mounts that shady, earthly, and nocturnal Region, which is the Lot and Inheritance of the Earth. And therefore I am of Opinion, we may boldly say, that the Moon is within the Limits and Confines of the Earth, seeing that she is even darkened by the Summits of its Mountains.  
But leaving the Stars, as well erring as fixed, see, what Aristarchus proves and demonstrates in his Treatise of Magnitudes and Distances, that the Distance of the Sun is above eighteen times, and under twenty times greater than that of the Moon from us. And yet they, who place her lowest, say that her Distance from us contains six and fifty of the Earths Semidiameters, that is, that she is six and fifty times as far from us, as we are from the Center of the Earth: which is forty thousand Stadia: and therefore according to those; who make their Computation moderately, the Sun is above four Millions and three hundred thousand Stadia distant from the Moon: so far is she from the Sun by reason of her Gravity, and so near does she approach to the Earth. So that if Substances are to be distinguished by Places, the Portion and Region of the Earth challenges to itself the Moon, which by reason of Neighbourhood and Proximity has a Right to be reputed and reckoned amongst the terrestrial Natures and Bodies. Nor shall we, in my Opinion, do amiss, if having given to these Bodies, which are said to be above, so vast an Interval and Distance; we leave also to those which are below, some Space and Room to turn them in, such as is that between the Earth and the Moon. For neither is he, who calls only the utmost Superficies of the Earth {αβγδ}, or Above, or all the rest {αβγδ} or Beneath, moderate or tolerable; nor is he to be endured, who confines {αβγδ} or Inferiority only to the Earth, or rather to its Center: seeing the vast Greatness of the World may afford Means for the Assigning farther to this lower Part some such Space, as is necessary for Motion. Now against him, who holds, that whatever is above the Earth, is immediately high, superior, and sublime, there is presently another Opposition to encounter and contradict it, that whatever is beneath the Sphere of the fixed Stars, ought to be called low and inferior.  
In a Word, how is the Earth said to be the Middle, and of what is it the Middle? For {αβγδ} or the Universe is infinite; and Infinite having neither Beginning nor End, 'tis convenient also, that it should not have any Middle; for the Middle is a certain End or Limit; but Infiniteness is a Privation of all sorts of Limits. Now he, that affirms the Earth to be the Middle, not of the Universe, but of the World, is certainly a pleasant Man, if he does not think, that the World itself is subject ●o the same Doubts and Difficulties; for the Universe has not left a Middle even to the very World, but being without any certain Seat or Foundation, it is carried in an infinite Voidness not to any Place, that is proper for it. And if perhaps having met with some other Cause of stay, it has stopped, not according to the Nature of the Place, as much may be conjectured of the Moon, that by the Means of another Soul, and another Nature, or to say better, of another Difference, the Earth continues firm here below, and the Moon moves. Besides this, see, whether they are not ignorant of a great Inconvenience and Error: for if 'tis true, that all, which is without the Center of the Earth, however it be, is above, there will then be no Part of the World below, but the Earth, and all, that is upon it, will be above; and in brief, every Body that shall be near or about the Center, will be above, and there will be nothing below or underneath, but one only Point, which has no Body, which will of necessity make head against, and oppose all the rest of the Worlds Nature, if Above and Beneath, High and Low, are naturally opposite to one another. Nor is this the only Absurdity, will that will follow, but all heavy and ponderous Bodies also lose the Cause, for which they move and tend downward hither, for there will be no Body below, to which they should move; and as for that which is incorporeal, 'tis not probable, neither will they themselves allow it to be so forcible, as to draw and retain all things about itself. But if it is unreasonable, and contrary to Nature, that the whole World should be Above, and that there should be nothing Below, but an incorporeal and indivisible Term or Limit, then is this, as we say, yet more reasonable, that the Region above, and that below, being divided the one from the other, have nevertheless each of them a large and spacious Room.  
Nevertheless, supposing, if you please, that 'tis against Nature, for earthly Bodies to have any Motions in Heaven; let us consider leisurely and mildly, and not violently, as is done in Tragedies, that this is no Proof of the Moons not being Earth, but only that Earth is in a Place, where by Nature it should not be: for the Fire of Mount Aetna is indeed against Nature under Ground, nevertheless it ceases not to be Fire. And the Wind, contained within Bottles, is indeed of its own Nature light, and inclined to ascend, but is yet by force constrained to be there, where naturally it should not be. And is not our very Soul, I beseech you in the Name of Jupiter, which as you yourselves say, is light, of a fiery Substance, and imperceptible to Sense, included within the Body, which is heavy, could, and palpable? Yet we do not therefore say, that the Soul is nothing within the Body; or that it is not a Divine Substance under a gross and heavy Mass, or that it does not in a moment pass thrô Heaven, Earth, and Sea, pierce into the Flesh, Nerves, and Marrow, and is with the Humors the Cause of a thousand Passions. And even your Jupiter, such as you imagine him, and depaint him to be, is he not of his own Nature a great and perpetual Fire? Yet now he submits, is pliable, and transformed into all things by several Mutations. Take heed therefore, good Sir, lest by transferring and reducing every thing to the Place, assigned it by Nature, you so philosophize, as to bring in a Dissolution of the whole World, and put all things again into that State of Enmity, mentioned by Empedocles, or, to speak more properly, lest you raise up again those ancient Titans and Giants, to put on Arms against Nature, and endeavour to introduce again that fabulous Disorder and Confusion, where all, that is heavy, goes one way apart, and all, that is light, another; 
Where neither Suns bright Face is seen,  
Nor Earth beholded, spread o'er with Green,  
Nor the salt Sea,—  as Empedocles has it; where the Earth feels no Heat, nor the Air any Wind, where no heavy thing is moved upwards, nor any light thing downward; but the Principles of all things are solitary, without any mutual Love or Dilection one to another, not admitting any Society or Mixture together; but shunning and avoiding all Communication, moving separately by particular Motions, as being disdainful, proud, and altogether carrying themselves in such manner, as every thing does, from which, as Plato says, God is absent, that is, as those Bodies do, in which there is neither Soul nor Understanding: till such time as by Divine Providence Desire, coming into Nature, engenders there Amity, Venus, and Love; as Empedocles, Parmenides, and Hesiod have it, to the end that changing their natural Places, and reciprocally communicating their Faculties, some being by Necessity bound to Motion, others to Quiet and Rest, and all tending to the better, every thing remitting a little of its Power, and yielding a little from its Place, they make at length an Harmony, Accord, and Society together. For if there had not been any other part of the World against Nature, but every thing had been in the same Place and Quality, it naturally ought to be, without standing in need of any Change or Transposition, or having had any Occasion for it from the Beginning: I know not, what the Work of Divine Providence is, or in what it consists, or of what Jupiter has been the Father, Creator, or Worker. For there would not in a Camp be any need of a Man, who is well skilled in the Art of ranging and ordering of Battles, if every soldier of himself knew and understood his Rank, Place, and Station, and the Opportunity, he ought to take and keep; nor would there be any want of Gardiners or Builders, if Water were of itself framed to flow, where it is necessary, and irrigate such Plants, as stand in need of watering; or if Bricks, Timber, and Stones would of their own Inclinations and Natural Motions range and settle themselves in due and fitting Places and Orders. Now if this Discourse manifestly takes away Providence, and if the Ordering and Distinction of things, that are in the World, belongs to God, why should we wonder at Natures having been so disposed and ordained by him, that the Fire should be here, and the Stars there, and again the Earth should be situated here below, and the Moon above, lodged in a more sure and straight Prison, found out by Reason, than that, which was first ordained by Nature? For if it were of absolute Necessity, that all things should follow their natural Instinct, and move according to the Motion, given them by Nature, neither the Sun, Venus, nor any other Planet, would any more run a circular Course: for light and fiery Substances have by Nature their Motion directly upwards. And if perhaps Nature itself receive this Permutation and Change by reason of the Place, that Fire, having its Motion here, should in a direct Line tend upwards, but being once arrived at Heaven, should turn round with the Revolution of the Heavens, what wonder would it be, if heavy and terrestrial Bodies, being in like manner out of their natural Place, are vanquished by the ambient Air, and forced to take another sort of Motion. For it cannot with any Reason be said, that Heaven has by Nature the Power to take away from light things the Property of mounting directly upwards, and cannot likewise have the Force to overcome heavy things, and such as tend downward; but that sometimes making use of this Power, and sometimes of the proper Nature of the things, it still orders every thing for the best.  
But if laying aside those ser●ile Habits and Opinions, to which we have enslaved ourselves, we must frankly and fearlessly deliver our judgement, it seems clear to me, that there is not any part of the Universe, which has a peculiar and separate Rank, Situation, or Motion, that can simply be said to be natural to it. But when every thing exhibits and yields up itself to be moved, as is most profitable and fit for that, for whose Sake it was made, and to which it is by Nature appointed, suffering, doing, or being disposed, as is most expedient and meet for the Safety, Beauty, and Power of the same, than it appears to have its Place, Motion and Disposition according to Nature. As a Proof of this, we may observe, that Man, who, if any thing in the World be so, is made and disposed according to Nature, has upwards, especially about his Head, heavy and terrestrial things, and about the Middle of his Body such, as are hot, and participate of Fire; of his Teeth also some grow upwards, and some downward, and yet neither the one nor the other are contrary to Nature; neither is the Fire, which shines in his Eyes, according to Nature, and that, which is in his Heart and Stomach against it; but it is in each place properly and beneficially seated. Moreover, consider the Nature of all Shell-fishes, and, that I may use the Words of Empedocles, 
Look on the Crabs, the oysters of the Sea,  
And Shell-fish all, which heavy Coats enfold,  
The Tortoise too with arched Back, whom we  
covered with Crust, as hard as ston, behold:  
View them but well, and plain it will appear,  
They hardened Earth above their Bodies bear.  And yet this Crust, stone-like, hard, and heavy, as it is, thus placed over their Bodies, does not press and crush the Moisture, enclosed within them, nor on the contrary does their natural Heat fly upwards by reason of its Lightness, and vanish away, but they are mingled and composed one with another, according to the Nature of every one.  
Wherefore 'tis also probable, that the World, if it is an Animal, has in many parts of its Body Earth, and in as many Fire and Water, not thrust and driven into it by Force, but ordered and disposed by Reason: for neither was the Eye by its Lightness forced into that part of the Body, where it is, nor the Heart by its Gravity pressed down into the Breast; but both the one and the other were thus placed, because it was better and more expedient. In like manner we ought not to think, that of the Parts of the World either the Earth settled, where it is, being beaten down thither by its Ponderosity, or the Sun carried upwards by its Levity, like a Bottle or Bladder full of Wind, which, being plunged into the Bottom of the Water, immediately rises up again, as Metrodorus of Chios was persuaded, or that the other Stars, as if they had been put into a balance, were swayed this way or that way, according to their Weight or Lightness, and so mounted higher or lower to the Places, they now possess. But Reason having prevailed in the Constitution of the World, the Stars have, like to glittering Eyes, been fixed in the Firmament, as it were in the Face of the Universe, there to turn continually about; and the Sun, having the Force and vigour of the Heart, sends and distributes its Heat and Light, like Blood and Spirits, throughout all: the Earth and Sea are in the World, as the Paunch and Bladder in the Body of a living Creature: And the Moon placed between the Sun and the Earth, as the Liver, or some other soft Entral between the Heart and the Belly, transmits down thither the Heat of the Superior Bodies, and draws round about her the vapours, which arise from hence, subtilizing them by way of Concoction and Purification. And whether its solid and terrestrial Quality has any other Property, serving for some profitable Use, is indeed unknown to us; but 'tis however securest and best, in all things to hold, what is necessary: for what Probability can we draw from that, which they affi●m? They say, that the most subtle and luminous Part of the Air, by reason of its Rarity, became Heaven; but what was thickened and closely driven together, was made into Stars, of which the Moon being the heaviest, is compacted of the grossest and muddiest Matter. And yet 'tis plainly to be seen, that the Moon is not separated or divided from the Air; but moves and makes her Revolution thrô that, which is about her, to wit, the Region of the Winds, and where the Comets are engendered, and keep their Course. These Bodies then were not by a natural Inclination thus placed and situated as they are, but have by some other Reason been so ordered and disposed.  
These things being said, as I was giving Lucius his Turn to follow and continue the Discourse, there being nothing left to be added, but the Demonstrations of this Doctrine, Aristotle, smiling, said: I am a Witness, that you have directed all your Contradictions, and all your Refutations against those, who, supposing the Moon to be half Fire, affirm in general, that all Bodies do of their own accord tend either upwards or downward; but if there is any one, who holds, that the Stars have of their own Nature a circular Motion, and that they are of a Substance wholly different from the four Elements, you have not thought of saying any thing, so much as accidentally, or by the way, against him: and therefore I am wholly unconcerned in your Discourse.  
Indeed, good Sir, said Lucius, if you should suppose the other Stars, and the whole Heaven apart, to be of a pure and sincere Nature, free from all Change and Alteration of Passion, and should bring in also a circled, in which they make their Motion by a perpetual Revolution, you would not perhaps find any one now to contradict you, thô there are in this infinite Doubts and Difficulties. But when the 
For {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}.  Discourse descends so far, as to touch the Moon, it cannot maintain in her that Perfection of being exempt from all Passion and Alteration, nor the heavenly Beauty of that Body. But to let pass all other Inequalities and Differences, the very Face, which appears in the Body of the Moon, necessary proceeds from some Passion of her own Substance, or the Mixture of another: for what is mixed, suffers, because it loses its first Purity, being filled by force with that which is worse. Besides, as for the Slowness and Dullness of her Course, her feeble and inefficacious Heat, by which, as Ion says, The black Grape comes not to maturity, to what shall we attribute them but to her Weakness and Passion, if an eternal and celestial Body can be subject to Passion?  
In brief, my Friend Aristotle, if the Moon is Earth, she is a most fair and admirable thing, and excellently well adorned, but if you regard her as a Star, or Light, or a certain divine and heavenly Body, I am afraid, she will prove deformed and foul, and disgrace that beautiful Appellation, if of all those Bodi●s, which are in Heaven so numerous, she alone stands in need of Light, borrowed of another, and, as Parmenides has it, Looks always backward on the Suns bright Rays. Our Friend therefore indeed, having in a Lecture of his, demonstrated this Proposition of Anaxagoras, that the Sun communicates to the Moon, what Brightness she has, was well esteemed for it. As for me, I will not say, what I have learnt of you, or with you, but having taken it for granted, will pass on to the rest. 'tis then probable, that the Moon is illuminated, not like a Glass or crystal, by the Brightness of the Suns Rays, shining thrô her; nor yet again, by a certain Collustration and Conjunction of Light and Brightness, as when many Torches, set together, augment the Light of one another. For so she would be no less full in her Conjunction, or first Quarter, than in her Opposition, if she did not obstruct or repel the Rays of the Sun, but let them pass thrô her by reason of her Rarity; or if he did by a Contemperature shine upon her, and kindle the Light within her. For we cannot allege her Declinations and Aversions in the Conjunction or new Moon, as when it is half Moon, or when she appears tipped, crescent, or in the Wane; but being then perpendicularly, as Democritus says, under him, that illuminates her, she receives and admits the Sun: so that then 'tis probable, she should appear, and he shine thrô her. But this she is so far from doing, that she is not only then unseen, but also often hides the Sun, as Empedocles has it: 
The Suns bright Beams from us she turns aside,  
And of the Earth itself as much doth hid,  
As her Orbs breadth can cover:—  As if the Light of the Sun fell not upon another Star, but upon Night and Darkness. And as for what Possidonius says, that the Depth of the Moons Body is the Cause, why the Light of the Sun cannot pierce thrô her to us, this is evidently refuted: for the Air, which is infinite, and of a far greater Depth than the Body of the Moon, is nevertheless all over illustrated and enlightened by the Rays of the Sun. It remains then, that, according to the Opinion of Empedocles, the Light of the Moon, which appears to us, comes from the Repercussion and reflection of the Suns Beams. And for this reason it comes not to us hot and bright, as in all probability it would, if her Shining proceeded either from Inflammation, or the Commixtion of two Lights. But as Voices, reverberated, cause an Echo, or Resounding more obscure, and less express than the Speech, that was pronounced, and as the Blows of Darts and Arrows, rebounding from some Wall, against which they were shot, are more mildred and gentle: So 
The Sun, so called from Titan, Brother to Saturn, whose Son Hyperion was Father to Sol.  Titans Lustre, smiting the Moons Orb, yields but a faint and feeble Refluxion and Refusion of Brightness upon us, its Force being abated and weakened by the Refraction.  
Sylla then, taking up the Discourse, said, There is indeed a great deal of probability in all that you have spoken: But as to the strongest Objection, that is brought against it, has it, think you, been any way weakened by this Discourse? Or has our Friend quiter passed it over in Silence?  
What Opposition do you mean, said Lucius? Is it the Difficulty about the Moon, when one half of her appears enlightened?  
The very same, answered Sylla: For there is some Reason, seeing that all reflection is made by equal Angles, that, when the Half-Moon is in the midst of Heaven, the Light, proceeding from her, should not be carried upon the Earth, but glance, and fall beyond and on one side of it. For the Sun, being placed in the Horizon, touches the Moon with his Beams, which, being equally refracted, will therefore necessary fall on the other Bound of the Horizon, and not sand their Light down hither; or else there will be a great Distortion and Difference of the Angle: which is impossible.  
And yet by Jupiter, replied Lucius, this has not been forgotten, or overpass'd, but already spoken to. And casting his Eye, as he was discoursing upon the Mathematician Menelaus, I am ashamed, said he, in your Presence, dear Menelaus, to attempt the subverting and overthrowing of a Mathematical Position, which is supposed, as a Basis and Foundation to the Doctrine of the Catoptricks concerning the Causes and Reasons of Mirrors. And yet of necessity I must: for it neither appears of itself, nor is confessed as true, that all reflections tend to equal Angles; but this Position is first checked and contradicted in embossed and convex Mirrors, when they represent the Images of things, appearing at one Point of the Sight, greater than the things themselves. And it is also disproved by double Mirrors, which being inclined or turned one towards the other, the Angle is made within, and each of the Glasses or plain Superficies yields a double Resemblance: so that there are four Images from the same Face, two answerable to the Parts without on the left side, and two others obscure, and not so evident on the right side in the Bottom of the Mirror, where they yield Resemblances, appearing greater than themselves, at one only Point of the Sight. The same also is overthrown by those Mirrors, that are concave or hollow, wherein the Aspect is variable, of which Plato renders the efficient Cause: for he says, that, a Mirror being raised on the one and other side, the Sight varies the Reflection, falling from the one side to the other. And therefore, since of the Views or Visions, some immediately have recourse to us, and others, sliding on the opposite part of the Mirror, do again return upon us from thence, 'tis not possible, that all reflections should be made at equal Angles: thô those, who closely impugn our Opinion, contend, that by these Defluxions of Light from the Moon upon the Earth the Equality of Angles is taken away, thinking this to be much more probable than the other.  
Nevertheless, if we must of necessity yield and grant thus much to our dearly beloved Geometry, first, this should in all likelihood befall those Mirrors, which are perfectly smooth, and exquisitley polished; whereas the Moon has many Inequalities and Roughnesses, so that the Rays, proceeding from a vast Body, and carried to mighty Altitudes, receive one from another, and intercommunicate their Lights, which, being sent to and fro, and reciprocally distributed, are refracted and interlaced all manner of ways, and the Counter-Lights meet one another, as if they came to us from several Mirrors. And then, thô we should suppose these reflections on the Superficies of the Moon to be made at equal Angles, yet 'tis not impossible, that the Rays, coming down unto us by so long an Interval, may have their Flexions, Fractions, and Delapsions, that the Light, being compounded, may shine the more. Some also there are, who prove by lineary Demonstration, that she sends much of her Light down to the Earth by a direct Line, drawn plumb under her, as she inclines. But to make the Description and Delineation of it thus publicly, especially, where there were so many Auditors, was not very easy. But in brief, said he, I wonder, how they come thus to allege against us the Half Moon, there being the same Reason, when she is on both sides embossed, and crescent. For if the Sun enlightened the Moon, as a Mass of aetherial or fiery Matter, he would never surely leave one Hemisphere, or half of her Globe, always appearing dark and shadowy to sense, as it is seen to be; but how little soever he touched her Superficies, it would be agreeable to Reason, that she should be wholly replenished, and totally changed by that Light of his, which by reason of its Agility and Swiftness so easily spreads and passes thrô all. For, since Wine, touching Water only in one Point, or one Drop of Blood, falling into any liquour, dies and colours it all with a read or purple Colour; and since they say, that the very Air is altered and changed with Light, not by any Defluxions or Beams intermingled, but by a sudden Conversion and Change, made in one only Point; how can they imagine, that one Star, touching another Star, and one Light another Light, should not be immediately mingled, nor make any thorough Confusion or Change; but only exteriorly illuminate that, whose Superficies it touches. For that circled, which the Sun makes by fetching a Compass, and turning towards the Moon, sometimes falling upon the very Line, that distinguishes her visible Part from her invisible, and sometimes rising up directly, so that it cuts her in two, and is reciprocally cut by her, causing in her by several Inclinations and Habitudes of the Luminous to the Dark those various Forms, by which she appears but Half, embossed on both sides, Horned, and Crescent: that, more than any thing else, demonstrates, that all this Illumination of the Moon is not a Mixture, but only a Touching; nor a Conflux or Gathering together of sundry Lights, but only an Illustration round about.  
But forasmuch as she is not only enlightened her self, but also sends back hither the Image of her Illumination, this confirms us yet farther, in what we say touching her Substance. For reflections and Reverberations are not made upon any thing, which is rare, and of thin and subtle Parts, nor is it easily to be imagined, how Light can rebound from Light, or one Fire from another; but that, which is to make the Reverberation or reflection, must be solid and firm, that a Blow may be given against it, and a Rebounding made from it. As a Proof of this, we see, that the Air transmits the Sun, and gives him way to pierce quiter thrô it, not obstructing or driving back his Rays; but on the contrary from Wood, Stones, or Clothes, put in the Sun, there are made many reflections of Light, and many Illuminations round about. So we see that the Earth is illuminated by him, not to the very Bottom, as the Water, nor thoroughly and all over, as the Air, thrô which the Beams of the Sun have a clear Passage; but just such a circled, as he makes in turning about the Moon, and as much as he cuts off from her, with such another does he compass the Earth, and so much does he enlighten, the rest being left without Light: for what is illuminated both in the one and in the other, is little more than an Hemisphere. Permit me therefore now to conclude after the manner of Geometricians by Proportion. If there are three things, which the Light of the Sun approaches, the Air, the Moon, and the Earth, and if we see, that the Moon is enlightened by him, not as the Air, but as the Earth, 'tis of necessity, that those two things must have one and the same Nature, which of one and the same Cause suffer the same Effects.  
Now when all the Company began highly to commend Lucius's Harangue, This is excellently well done of you, Lucius,( said I do him,) that you have to so fine a Discourse added as fine a Proportion: for you must not be defrauded of that, which is your Due.  
Then Lucius, smiling, thus went on: I have yet a second Proportion to be added to the former, by which we will clearly demonstrate, that the Moon altogether resembles the Earth, not only because they suffer and receive the same Accidents from the same Cause, but because they work the same Effects on the same Object. For you will without Difficulty, I suppose, grant me, that of all the Accidents which befall the Sun, there is none so like to his Setting, as his Eclipse, especially if you but call to mind that 
Our Author is here supposed to mean that Darkn●ss, which covered the F●ce of the Earth at the Time of our Blessed Saviours Passion, which continued from the sixth Hour to the ninth, that is, from Noon till three a Clock.  Conjunction, which hapn●d not many years since, and, beginning immediately after Noon, shew'd us many Stars in many Places of the Heavens, and wrought such a Temperature in the Air, as is that of the Twilight in the Evening or Morning. But if you will not grant me this, our Friend Theon here will bring us a Mimnernus, a Cydias, an A●chilochus, and besides these, a Stesichorus and a Pindar, lamenting, that in Eclipses the World is robbed of its brightest Light, and saying, that Night comes on in the midst of the Day, and that the Rays of the Sun wander in the Path of Darkness; but above all, he will produce Homer, saying, that the Faces of Men were[ in Eclipses] seized upon by Night and Darkness, and the Sun quiter lost out of Heaven by the Conjunction of the Moon. 
**** What is here lost, seems to have been some Discourse concerning the Change of the Moon: for that the Suns Eclipse cannot by the Course of Nature, be at any other time.  And******************************************* 'tis natural, that this should happen, if I may use Homers Words, When one Moon's going, and another comes. For the rest of the Demonstration is, in my Opinion, as certain, and exactly concluding, as are the acute Arguments of the mathematics. As Night is the Shadow of the Earth, so the Eclipse of the Sun is the Shadow of the Moon, when the Sight returns upon itself. For the Sun is at his setting kept from our Sight by the Interposition of the Earth, and at his Eclipse by that of the Moon. Now both of these are Obscurations: but that of his Setting is from the Earth, and that of his being eclipsed from the Moon, their Shadows intercepting our Sight. Now the Consequences of these things are easily understood. For if the Effect is alike, the efficient Causes are also alike: because it is of necessity, that the same Effects, happening in the same Subjects, proceed from the same Efficients. Now if the Darkness in Eclipses is not so profound, nor does so forcibly and entirely seize the Air, as does the Night, we are not to wonder at it: for the Substance of the Body, which makes the Night, and of that which causes the Eclipse, is indeed the same, thô their Greatness is not equal. For the egyptians, if I am not mistaken, hold, that the Moon is in Bigness the two and seventieth Part of the Earth; and Anaxagoras says, she is as big as Peloponnesus; and Aristarchus shows the overthwart Line or Diameter of the Moon to have a Proportion to that of the Earth, which is less, than if sixty were compared to nineteen, and somewhat greater, than an hundred and eight compared to forty and three. Whence it happens, that the Earth, by reason of its Greatness, wholly withdraws the Sun from our Sight: for 'tis a great Obstacle and Opposition, and lasts all the Night. But the Moon, although she sometimes hides all the Sun, yet that Eclipse continues not so long, nor is so far extended, but there always appears about the Circumference a certain Brightness, which permits not the Darkness to be black, deep, and perfectly obscure.  
And Aristotle, I mean the ancient Philosopher of that Name, rendering the Reason, why there are oftener seen to happen Eclipses of the Moon, than of the Sun, amongst other Causes alleges this, that the Sun is eclipsed by the Interposition of the Moon, and the Moon by that of the Earth, which is much greater, and more spacious, and consequently oftener opposes itself. And Posidonius thus defines this Accident: The Eclipse of the Sun is the Conjunction of the Sun and Moon, the Shadow of which darkens our Sight. For there is no Eclipse, but only to those, whose Sight the Shadow of the Moon intercepting, hinders them from seeing the Sun. Now in confessing, that the Shadow of the Moon descends down to us, I know not what he has left himself to say. 'tis certainly impossible for a Star to cast a Shadow: for tha●, which is not enlightened, is called a Shadow, and Light makes no Shadow, but on the contrary drives it away. But what Arguments, said he, were alleged after this?  
The Moon, answered I then, suffered the same Eclipse.  
You have done well, replied he, to put me in mind of it. But would you have me go on, and prosecute the rest of the Discourse, as if you had already supposed and granted, that the Moon is eclipsed, being intercepted within the Shadow of the Earth? or shall I take for the Subject of a Declamation the making a Demonstration of it by rehearsing to you all the Arguments, one after another?  
Nay by Jove, said Theon, let this be the Argument of your discourse. For I indeed stand in need of some persuasion, having only heard, that, when these three Bodies, the Earth, the Moon, and the Sun are in a direct Line, then Eclipses happen: for that either the Earth takes the Sun from the Moon, or the Moon take him from the Earth. For the Sun then suffers an Eclipse or Defect, when the Moon, and the Moon, when the Earth is in the midst of three: of which the one happens in the Conjunction, or New Moon, and the other in the Opposition, or when the Moon is full.  
Then said Lucius: These are the principal Points, and the Summary of what is said. But in the first place, if you please, take the Argument, drawn from the Form and Figure of the Shadow, which is that of a Cone or Pyramid, with the sharp end forward, as being, when a great Fire or Light, that is round, or spherical, encompasses a Mass, that is also globular, but less: whence it comes, that in the Eclipses of the Moon the Circumscriptions of the Black and Dark from the Clear and Luminous have their Sections always round. For the Approaches of a round Body, which way soever it goes, whether it gives or receives Sections, do by reason of the Similitude always keep a circular Form. Now as for the second Argument, I suppose, you understand, that the first Part, which is eclipsed in the Moon, is always that, which looks towards the East; and in the Sun that, which regards the West: now the Shadow of the Earth moves from the East to the West; but the Sun and Moon from the West Eastward. The Experience of the Apparences gives us a visible Knowledge of this, nor is there need of many Words to make us fully understand it, and from these Suppositions the Cause of the Eclipse is confirmed. For, inasmuch as the Sun is eclipsed by being overtaken, and the Moon by meeting that, which makes the Eclipse, it probably, or rather necessary follows, that the one is surprised behind, and the other before. For the Obstruction begins on that side, whence that, which causes it, first approaches: Now the Moon comes upon the Sun from the West, as striving in course with him, and hastening after him; but the Shadow of the Earth comes from the East, as that, which has a contrary Motion. The third Argument is taken from the Time and Greatness of the Eclipses. For the Moon, if she is eclipsed, when she is on high in her Apogëon, or at her farthest distance from the Earth, continues but a little in her Defect or Want of Light; But when she suffers the same Accident, being low, and in her Prosgëon or near the Earth, she is very much oppressed, and slowly gets out of the Shadow: and yet, when she is low, she moves swifter, and when high, slower. But the Cause of the Difference is in the Shadow, which is, like Pyramids, broadest at the Bottom or Basis, and, growing still narrower by little and little, terminates in a sharp point at the Top. Whence it comes, that, when she is low, she is embarrass'd within greater Circles, traversing the Bottom of the Shadow, and what is most obscure and dark; but when she is high, being thrô the Narrowness of the Shadow, as it were but in a shallow Puddle, by which she is but little sullied, she immediately gets out again. I omit the Effects, which have particular Causes. For we see, that Fire shines forth and appears brighter out of a dark and shady Place, thrô the thickness of the caliginous Air, which admits no Effluxions or Diffusions of the Fires virtue, but keeps in and contains its Substance within itself: or rather, if this is a Passion of the Sense, as hot things, when near to could ones, are felt to be hotter, and Pleasures immediately after Pains are found more vehement: so things, that are bright, appear better, when they are near to such, as are obscure, by means of different Passions, which more strain and extend the Imagination. But there seems to be a greater Appearance of Probability in the first Reason: For in the Sun all the Nature of Fire not only loses its Faculty of illuminating, but is also rendered duller and more unapt to burn, because the Heat of the Sun dissipates and scatters all its Force.  
If it were then true, that the Moon, being, as the stoics say, a muddy and troubled Star, has a weak and duskish Fire, it would be meet, that she should suffer none of these Accidents, which she is now seen to suffer, but altogether the contrary: to wit, that she should be seen, when she is hidden; and absconded, when she appears: that is, she should be concealed all the rest of the time, being obscured by the environing Air, and again shine forth, and become apparent and manifest for six Months together, and afterwards disappear again five Months, entering into the Shadow of the Earth. For of four hundred sixty and five Revolutions of Lunary Eclipses, four hundred and four are of six Months to six, and the rest of five to five. The Moon then should all this time appear shining in the Shadow; but on the contrary we see, that in the Shadow she is eclipsed and loses her Light, and recovers it again, after she is escaped and got forth of the Shadow. Nay she appears often in the day time, so that she is rather any thing else, then a fiery and starry Body.  
These things as soon as Lucius had said, Pharnaces and Apollonides ran both together upon him, to oppugn and refute his Discourse: and then Pharnaces, assisted by Apollonides, who was present, and gave him way, said: This it is, that principally shows the Moon to be a Star, and of a fiery Nature, that in her Eclipses she is not wholly obscured, and disappearing; but shows her self with a certain Coal-resembling colour, terrible to the sight, yet such as is proper to her.  
As for Apollonides, he insisted much in opposition to the Word Shadow, saying, that the Mathematicians always give that Name to the Place, which is not enlightened, and that Heaven admits no Shadow.  
To this I thus answered: This Instance is rather alleged obstinately against the Name, than naturally or mathematically against the Thing: for if one will not call the Place, obfuscated by the Opposition of the Earth a Shadow, but a Place deprived of Light, yet, be it what it will, you must of necessity confess, that the Moon, being there, becomes obscure: and every way, said I, 'tis a Folly to deny, that the Shadow of the Earth reaches thither, from whence the Shadow of the Moon, falling upon our Sight here on Earth, causes the Eclipse of the Sun. And therefore I now address myself to you, Pharnaces: For this coal-like and burnt colour of the Moon, which you affirm to be proper to her, belongs to a Body, that has Thickness and Depth: For there is not wont to remain any relic, Mark, or Print of flamme in a Body, that is rare; nor can a Coal be made, where there is not a solid Body, which may receive into it the Heat of the Fire, as Homer himself shows in a certain Passage, where he says: 
When the Fires flower was vanished, and quiter dead  
Its flamme, then the left Coals abroad he spread.  For the Coal seems not properly a Fire, but a Body enkindled and altered by the Fire, staying and remaining in a solid Mass, and which has, as it were, taken Root; whereas Flames are the setting on Fire and Fluxions of a Nutriment and Matter, which is of a rare Substance, and by reason of its Weakness makes no long Resistance, but is quickly resolved and consumed: so that there could not be any more evident and plain Argument, to demonstrate, that the Moon is solid and earthly, than if her proper colour were that of a Coal. But it is not so, my Friend Pharnaces; but in her Eclipses she diversely changes her colours, which the Mathematicians, determining with respect to the Time and Hour, thus distinguish. If she is eclipsed in the Evening, she appears horribly black for above three hours and an half; if about Midnight, she sends forth this reddish and Fire-resembling colour, and after seven hours and an half there arises a Redness indeed; and finally if about the Dawning of the Morning or Sun-rise, she takes a blew or grayish colour: which is the Cause, why she is by the Poets, and particularly by Empedocles, called Glaucôpis, or Gray-ey'd. Since then they clearly see, that the Moon changes into so many colours in the Shadow, they do ill to attribute to her only that of a burning Coal, which may be said to be less proper to her, than any other, being only a small Remnant and Semblance of Light, appearing and shining thrô a Shadow, her own proper colour being black and earthy. And since that here below, the Rivers and Lakes, which receive the Rays of the Sun, seeming to take on their Superficies sometimes a read colour, sometimes a violet one, the neighbouring shady Places take the same Appearances of colours, and are illuminated by them, casting and sending back by reason of reflections several rebated splendours: what wonder is it, if a copious Flux of a Shadow, falling, like a great River, on an immense celestial Sea of a Light, not steady and quiet, but agitated by innumerable Stars, walking over it, and besides admitting several Mixtures and Mutations in itself, takes from the Moon the Impression, sometimes of one colour, sometimes of another, and sends them hither to us? For 'tis not to be denied, but that a Star or Fire cannot appear in a Shadow black, gray, or violet; but there are seen upon Hills, Plains, and Seas, several various Resemblances of colours, caused by the reflection of the Sun, which are the very Tinctures, that Brightness, mixed with Shadows and Mists, as if it were with Painters colours, brings upon them. And as for the Tinctures or colours of the Sea, Homer has indeed in some sort endeavoured to name and express them, when he sometimes terms the Sea violet-color'd, or read as Wine, at other times the Waves purple, and again the Sea azure, and the Calm white. As for the Diversities of Tinctures and colours, appearing upon the Earth, he has, I suppose, omitted them, because they are in number infinite. Now it is not probable, that the Moon has but one Superficies all plain and even, as the Sea; but rather that of its Nature it principally resembles the Earth, of which old Socrates in Plato seemed to mythologize at his Pleasure, whether it were, that under covert and enigmatical Speeches he meant it of the Moon, or whether he spake of some other. For 'tis neither incredible, nor wonderful, if the Moon, having in her self nothing corrupt or muddy, but enjoying a pure and clear Light from Heaven, and being full of Heat, not of a burning and furious Fire, but of such, as is mildred and harmless, has in her Places, admirably fair and pleasant, resplendent Mountains, clear as Fire, purple-color'd Cinctures or Zones, store of Gold and Silver, not dispersed here and there within her Bowels, but flourishing in great Abundance on the Superficies of her Plains, or spread all over her smooth Hills and Mountains.  
And if the Sight of all these things comes to us thrô a Shadow, sometimes in one manner, and sometimes in another, by reason of the Diversity and different Change of the ambient Air, the Moon does not therefore lose the venerable persuasion, that is had of her, or the Reputation of Divinity: being esteemed by Men an heavenly Earth, or rather, as the stoics say, a troubled, thick, and dreggish Fire. For even the Fire itself is honoured with Barbarian Honor● among the Assyrians and Medes, who thrô Fear serve and adore such things, as are hurtful, hallowing them even above such things, as are of themselves indeed holy and honourable. But the very Name of the Earth is truly dear and venerable to every Greek, and there is thrô all Greece a Custom received of adoring and revering it, as much as any other of the Gods. And we are very far from thinking, that the Moon, which we hold to be an heavenly Earth, is a Body without Soul and Spirit, exempt and deprived of all, that is to be offered to the Gods. For both by Law we yield her recompenses and Thanksgivings, for what we receive of her, and by Nature we adore, what we aclowledge to be of a more excellent virtue, and a more honourable Power, and therefore we do not think, that we offend, in supposing the Moon to be Earth.  
Now as to the Face, which appears in her, As this Earth, on which we are, has in it many great Sinuosities and Valleys: so 'tis probable, that the Moon also lies open and is cleft with many deep Caves and Ruptures, in which there is Water, or very obscure Air, to the Bottom of which the Sun cannot reach or penetrate, but failing there, sends back a dissipated reflection to us here below.  
Here Apollonides, taking up the Discourse, said: Tell me then, I beseech you, good Sir, even by the Moon her self, do you think it possible, that there should be there Shadows of Caves and Chinks, and that the sight of them should come even to our Eyes? Or do you not regard, what will come of it? I will tell you, what it is, and harken to me, although you are not ignorant of it. The Diameter of the Moon according to that Bigness, which appears to us, when she is in her mean and ordinary Distances, is twelve Digits, and every one of these black and shady Spots is above half a Digit, that is, above the four and twentieth part of the Diameter. Now if we suppose the Circumference of the Moon to be only thirty thousand Stadia, and the Diameter, according to that Supposition, to be ten thousand, every one of these shadowy Marks within her will not be less than five hundred Stadia. Consider then first, whether there can possibly be in the Moon such great Gaps, and such Inequalities, as may make such a Shadow; and then how it is possible, that being so great, they are not seen by us.  
At this I, smiling upon him, said: You have done me a Pleasure, dear Apollonides, in having found out such a Demonstration, by which you will prove, that you and I shall be bigger than those Giants 
Othus and Ephialtes, so named of Aloeus, their supposed Father, on whose Wife Iphimedia they were begotten by Neptune. 'tis said of them, that they grew nine Fingers every Month.  Alöades, not indeed every hour of the Day, but principally Morning and Evening. Do you think, that when the Sun makes our Shadows so long, he suggests to our Minds this goodly Argument: If that, which is shadowed, is great, that, which shadows, must of necessity be yet excessively greater? I know well, that neither you nor I have ever b●en in Lemnos; yet we have often heard that Jambic verse, so frequent in every ones Mouth.  
{αβγδ}:  
Mount Athos shall on either side  
The Cow, in Lemnos planted, hid.  
For the Shadow of that Mountain falls, as it seems, on the Image of a brazen Heifer, which is in Lemnos, extending itself in length over the Sea not less than seven hundred Stadia: not that the Mountain, which makes the Shadow, is of that Height, as to cause it; but because the Distance of the Light renders the Shadow of Bodies manifoldly greater than the Bodies themselves. Consider then here, that, when the Moon is in the Full, and shows us the Form of a Visage most expressly by reason of the Profundity of the Shadow, 'tis then, that she is most remote from the Sun: for 'tis the Recoiling of the Light, that makes the Shadow bigger, and not the Greatness of the Inequalities, which are on the Superficies of the Moon. And you moreover see, that the Brightness of the Suns Beams suffer not the Tops of the Mountains to b● discerned in open day; but on the contrary the deep, hollow, and shadowy Parts, appear from afar. 'tis not therefore any way absurd or strange, if we cannot so exactly see the full Illumination of the Moon, and her Reception of the Suns Beams; but that by the approaching of things, that are obscure and dark, to such, as are clear and shining, they are by reason of this Diversity more exquisitely seen.  
But this, said I, seems rather to refute and check the reflection and Reverberation, which is said to rebound from the Moon, because these, who are within the retorted Rays, do not only see that, which is enlightened, but also that, which enlightens. For when, at the Resulting of Light from Water upon a Wall, the Sight shall fall upon the Place, which is thus illuminated by the reflection, the Eye there beholds three things, to wit, the Ray or Light, that is driven back, the Water, which makes the reflection, and the Sun himself, whose Light, falling on the Superficies of the Water, is repulsed and sent back. This being confessed, as what is evidently seen, 'tis required of those, who say, that the Earth is enlightened from the Moon by the reflection of the Suns Rays upon it, that they show us by Night the Sun, appearing upon the Superficies of the Moon in the same manner, as he may be seen by day appearing in the Water, on which he shines, when there is the said reflections of his Beams. But since the Sun does not so appear, they thence infer, that the Moon receives her Illumination by some other Means, and not by reflection, and if there is no reflection, the Moon then is not Earth.  
What Answer then is to be made them, said Apollonides? For the Argument of this Objection against reflection is common also to us.  
It is indeed, answered I, in some sort common, and in some sort not. But first consider the Comparison, how perversely, and against the stream, they take it. For the Water is here below on the Earth, and the Moon there above in Heaven: so that the reflected and reverberated Rays make the form of their Angles quiter opposite one to the other, the one having their Point upwards towards the Superficies of the Moon, and the other downward towards the Earth. Let them not then require, that every Idëa or Form should be equally a Mirror, nor that from every Distance and Remoteness there should be a like and semblable reflection: for so doing they would repugn notorious and apparent Evidence. And as for those, who hold the Moon to be a Body, not smooth, even, and subtle, as the Water, but solid, massy and terrestrial, I cannot conceive, why they should require to see the Image of the Sun in her, as in a Glass. For neither does Milk itself render such peculiar Images, nor cause reflection of the Sight, by reason of the Inequality and Ruggedness of its Parts: How then is it possible, that the Moon should sand back the Sight from her Superficies, as Mirrors do, that are more polished? And if in these also there is any Scratch, Filth, or dullness on their Superficies, whence the reflected Sight is wont to receive a Form, they indeed may well be seen, but they yield no Counterlight. He then, who requires, that either the Sun should appear in the Moon, or that our Sight should be reverberated and redoubled against the Sun, let him also require, that the Eye be the Sun, the Sight Light, and Man Heaven. For it is probable, that the reflection of the Suns Beams, which is made upon the Moon, does by reason of their Vehemence and great Brightness rebound with a stroke upon us. But our Sight being weak and slender, what wonder is it, if it neither give such a stroke, as may rebound, or, if it rebounds, that it does not maintain its Continuity, but is broken and fails, as not having such abundance of Light, that it should not disgregate and be dissipated within those Inequalities and Asperities. For 'tis not impossible, that the reflection of our Sight upon Water, or other sorts of Mirrors, being yet strong, powerful, and near its Origin, should from thence return upon the Eye. But thô there may perhaps from the Moon be some Glimmerings, yet they will still be weak and obscure, and will fail in the way by reason of so long a Distance. For otherwise hollow and concave Mirrors sand back the reverberated and reflected Rays stronger, than they came, so that they frequently burn, and set on fire; and those, that are convex and imboss'd like a Bowl, because they beat them not back on all sides, render them dark and feeble. You see, for certain, when two Rainbows appear together in the Heaven, one Cloud comprehending another, that the Rainbow, which outwardly environs the other, yields dim colours, and such, as are not sufficiently distinguished and expressed, because the exterior Cloud, being more remote, makes not a strong and forcible reflection. And what needs there any more to be said, seeing that the very Light of the Sun, reverberated and sent back by the Moon, loses all its Heat; and of his Brightness there comes to us with much ado but a small Remainder, and that very languishing and weak. Is it then possible, that our Sight, running the same Course, should bring back any Part of the solar Image from the Moon? I for my part think, 'tis not. But consider, I said, yourselves, that, if our Sight were in one and the same manner affencted and disposed towards the Water, and towards the Moon, the full Moon would of necessity represent to us the Images of the Earth, Trees, Plants, Men, and Stars, as is done by the Water, and all other sorts of Mirrors. And if there is no such reflection of our Sight, as to bring us back these Images, either by reason of our said Sights, Weakness, or thrô the rugged Inequality of the Moons Superficies, let us no longer require, that it should rebound against the Sun.  
We have then, said I, related, as far as our Memory would carry it away, whatever was there said. 'tis now time to desire Sylla, or rather to exact of him, that he would make us his Narration, as being on such Condition admitted to hear all this Discourse. If you think good therefore, let us give over walking, and sitting down on these Seats, make him a quiet and settled Audience.  
Every one approved this Motion. And therefore, when we had seated ourselves, Theon thus began: I am indeed, o Lamprias, as desirous, as any of you can be, to hear, what shall be said: but I would gladly first understand something concerning those, who are said to dwell in the Moon, not, whether there are any persons inhabiting it, but whether 'tis possible, there should be any: for if 'tis not possible for the Moon to be inhabited, 'tis also unreasonable to say, that she is Earth: otherwise she would have been created in vain, and to no End: not bearing any Fruits, nor affording a Place for the Birth or Education of any Men, for which Causes and Ends this Earth, wherein we live, was made and created to be our Nurse and true Guardian, producing and distinguishing the Day from the Night. Now you know, that of this matter many things have been said, as well merrily and in jest, as seriously and in earnest. For of those, who dwell under the Moon, 'tis said, that she hangs over their Heads, as if they were so many Tantaluses; and on the contrary of those, who inhabit her, that being tied and bound, like a sort of Ixions, they are with so much Violence turned and whirled about, as if they were perpetually in danger of being flung out. Nor is the Moon indeed moved by one only Motion, but is, as they are wont to call her {αβγδ}, Trivia, or Three-way'd: performing her Course together according to Length, Breadth, and Depth in the zodiac: the first of which Motions Mathematicians call a direct Revolution; the second Volutation, or an obliqne Winding and Wheeling in and out; and the third( I know not why) an Inequality; although they see that she has no Motion, uniform, settled, and certain, in all her Circuits and Reversions. Wherefore 'tis not greatly to be admired, if thrô Violence of her Motions there sometime fell a Lion from her into Peloponnesus; but 'tis rather to be wondered, that we do not daily see ten thousand Falls of Men and Women, and Shocks of other Animals tumbling down thence with their Heels upwards on our Heads: for 'twould be a Mockery to dispute about their Habitation there, if they can have there neither Birth nor Existence. For seeing the Egyptians and the Troglodytes, over whose Heads the Sun directly stands only one Moment of one day in the Solstice, and then presently retires, can hardly escape being burnt by reason of the Airs excessive Dryness: is it credible, that those, who are in the Moon can bear every year twelve Solstices, the Sun being once a Month just in their Zenith, or exactly over their Head, when the Moon is in Conjunction. As for Winds, Clouds, and Showers, without which the Plants can neither come up, nor, when they are come up, be preserved, it cannot be so much as imagined there should be any, where the ambient Air is so hot, dry, and subtle: since even here below the Tops of Mountains never feel those hard and bitter Winters, but the Air, being there pure and clear without any Agitation by reason of its Lightness, avoids all that Thickness and Concretion, which is amongst us; unless, by Jupiter, we will say, that, as Minerva instilled N●ctar and Ambrosia into the Mouth of Achilles, when he received no other Food: so the Moon, which both is called, and indeed is, Minerva, nourishes Men, producing for them, and sending them every day Ambrosia, with which, as old Pherecydes was wont to say, the Gods themselves are fed. For as touching that Indian Root, which, as Megasthenes says, some People in those Parts, who ne●ther eat, nor drink, nor yet have any Mouths, being therefore called Astomi, burn and smoke, living on the Smell of its Perfume: whence should they have any of it there, the Moon not being watered or refreshed with Rain?  
When Theon had spoken these things: You have very dexterously and gently, said I to him, by this Facetiousness of yours smoothed as it were the Brow, and taken off the Chagrin and sourness of this Discourse: which encourages and emboldens us to return an Answer, since, however we may chance to fail, we expect not any severe or vigorous Chastisemen●. For, to speak the Truth, they, who are extremely offended with these things, and wholly discredit them, not being willing mildly to consider, what Probability and Possibility, there may be in them, are not much less in Fault than those, that are too excessively persuaded of them. First then I say, 'tis not necessary, that the Moon must have been made in vain, and to no End or Purpose, if there are not Men, who dwell in it: for we see, that this very Earth here is not all cultivated, or inhabited; but that only a small Part of it, like so many Promontories, or Demy-Islands, arising out of the Deep, engenders, brings forth, and breeds Plants and Animals: the rest being thrô excessive could or Heat wholly desert and barren, or( which is indeed the greatest Share of it) covered and plunged under the vast Ocean. But you, who are always so great a Lover and Admirer of Aristarchus, give no Ear to Crates, thô you red 
The Sea, which gave to Gods and Men their Birth,  
Covers with Waves the most part of the Earth.  And yet these Parts are far from having been made in vain: for the Sea exhales and breaths out mildred vapours, and the Snow, leisurely melting from the could and uninhabited Regions, sends forth, and spreads over all our Countreys those gentle Breezes, which qualify the scorching Heat of Summer, and in the midst, as Plato says, is placed the faithful Guardian and Operator of Night and Day. There is then nothing to hinder, but that the Moon may be without living Creatures, and yet give reflections to the Light, that is diffused about her, and afford a Receptacle to the Rays of the Stars, which have their Confluence and Temperature in her, for to digest the Evaporation, rising from the Earth, and moderate the over violent and fiery Heat of the Sun. And attributing much to ancient famed, and the Opinion, handed down to us by our Ancestors, we will say, that she is styled Diana, as being a Virgin and fruitless, but otherwise greatly salutary, helpful, and profitable to the World. Moreover of all, that has been laid, my Friend Theon, there is nothing, which shows it impossible for the Moon to be inhabited. For her Turning about, being gentle, mildred, and calm, dulcifies and polishes the ambient Air, which she in so good order distributes, and spreads about her, that there is no occasion to fear the Falling or Slipping out of those, who live in her, unless She her self also comes tumbling down. And as to the Diversity and Multiplicity of her Motion, it proceeds not from any Inequality, Error, or Uncertainty, but the Astrologers show in this an admirable Order and Course, enclosing her within Circles, which are turned by other Circles: some suppossing, that she her self stirs not, others making her always move equally, smoothly, and with the same Swiftness. For 'tis these Ascensions of divers Circles, with their Turnings and Habitudes, one towards another, and with Respect to us, which most exactly make those Heights, Depths, and Depressions, that appear to us in her Motion, and her Digressions in Latitude, all joined with the ordinary Revolution, she makes in Longitude. As to the great Heat and continual Inflammation of the Sun, you will cease to fear it, if first to the twelve estival Conjunctions you oppose the Full Moons, and then to the Excesses the Continuity of Change, which permits them not to last long, reducing them to a proper and peculiar Temperature, and taking from them both what is overmuch: for the Middle, or what is between them, 'tis probable, has a Season, most like to the Spring. And moreover the Sun sends his Beams to us thrô a gross and troubled Air, and casts on us an Heat, fed by Exhalations, whereas the Air, being there subtle and transparent, dissipates and disperses his Lustre, which has no Nourishment, nor Body, on which it may settle. Trees and Fruits are here nourished by Showers, but elsewhere, as in the higher Countreys with you about 
He means here the egyptian, not the Boeotian, Thebes.  Thebes and Syene, the Earth, drinking in, not aërial, but earthbred Water, and being assisted with refreshing Winds and due, will not, such is the virtue and Temperature of the Soil, yield the first place for Fertility to the best-water'd Land in the World. And the same sorts of Trees, which in our country, having been well wintered, or having suffered a long and sharp Winter, bring forth Abundance of good Fruit, are in afric, and with you in egypt, soon offended with, and very fearful of could. And the Provinces of Gedrosia and Troglodytis, which ly near the Ocean Sea, being by reason of Drought barren, and without any Trees, there grow nevertheless in the adjacent Sea, Trees of a wonderful Height and Bigness, and green even to the very Bottom: some of which they call Olive-trees, others Laurels, and others the Hairs of Isis. And those Plants, which are named Anacampserotes, being hanged up, after they are plucked out of the ground, they not only live, but, which is more, bud and put forth green Leaves. And of the Seeds, that are sown, some, as namely Centaury, if they are sown in a rich and fat Earth, and there well drenched and watered, degenerate from their natural Quality, and lose all their virtue, because they love dryness, and thrive in their own proper natural Soil. Others cannot bear so much as the least due, of which kind are the most part of the Arabian Plants, that, if they are but once wet, whither, fade, and dy. What wonder is it then, if there grow in the Moon Roots, Seeds, and Plants, which have no need of reins, or Winters Colds, and are appropriated to a dry and subtle Air, such as is that of Summer? And why may it not be probable, that the Moon sends forth warm Winds, and that her Shaking and Agitation, as she moves, is accompanied by comfortable Breezes, fine Dews, and gentle Moistures, which are every where dispersed to furnish Nutriment for the verdant Plants? seeing She is not of her Temperature ardent, or parched with Drought, but rather soft, moist, and engendering all Humidity. For there comes not from her to us any Effect of dryness, but many of a feminine Moisture and Softness, such as are the Growing of Plants, the Putrefaction of Flesh, the Changing and Flatness of Wines, the Tenderness and Rotting of Wood, and the easy Deliveries of child-bearing Women. But because I am afraid of irritating again and provoking Pharnaces, who all this while speaks not a Word, if I should allege the Flowing and Ebbing of the great Ocean, as they themselves say, with the Increasings of the Friths and Straits, which swell and rise by the Moon, augmenting the Moisture: and therefore I will rather turn myself to you, my Friend Theon: for you, interpreting this Verse of the Poet Al●man, 
Such things, as due, Joves Daughter and the Moons  
Does nourish,—  tell us, that in this Place he calls the Air Jupiter, which, being moistened by the Moon, is by Nature changed into due: for She seems, my good Friend, to be of a Nature, almost wholly contrary to the Sun, not only in that she is wont to moisten, dissolve, and soften, what he thickens, dries and hardens; but moreover, in that she allays and cools his Heat, when it lights upon her, and is mingled with her.  
Those then, who think the Moon to be a fiery and burning Body, are in an Error: and in like manner those, who would have all such things to be necessary for the Generation, Life, Food, and Entertainment of the Animals, dwelling there, as are requisite to those, that are here below, consider not the vast Diversity and Inequality, there is in Nature, in which there are found greater Varieties and Differences between Animals and Animals, than there are between Animals, and other Subjects, that are not animated. Neither would there be in the World any Men without Mouths, or whose Lips are so grown together, that they feed only on Smells, if it were so, that Men could not live without solid and substantial Food. But that Power of Nature, which Ammonus himself has shown us, and which Hesiod has obscurely signified in these Words, 
N●r how great virtue is in Asphodels  
And meadows,—  Epimenides has made plain to us in Effect, teaching us, that Nature sustains a living Creature with very little Food, and that, provided it has but the Quantity of an Olive, it stands in need of no other Nourishment. Now, if any, those surely, who dwell within the Moon, should be active, light, and easy to be nourished with any thing whatsoever: since they affirm, that the Moon her self, as also the Sun, which is a fiery Animal, and manifoldly greater than the Earth, is nourished and maintained by the Moistures, that are upon the Earth, as are also all the other Stars, whose Number is in a manner infinite: such light and slender Animals do they assign to the upper Region, and with so small Necessaries do they think them contented and satisfied. But we neither see these things, nor consider, that a quiter different Region, Nature, and Temperature is accommodated to those Lunar Men.  
As therefore, if we were unable to come near and touch the Sea, but could only see it at a distance, and had heard that its Water is brackish, salt, and undrinkable, any one, who should tell us, that there are in its Bottom many and great Animals of various Forms and Shapes, and that it is full of great and monstrous Beasts, making the same use of the Water, as we do of the Air, would be thought only to relate a parcel of strange and uncredible Stories, newly found out and invented for Delight and Amusement: in the same manner we seem to be affencted and disposed towards the Moon, not believing, that there are any, who inhabit it. And I am of Opinion, that they themselves do much more wonder, when they behold the Earth, which is, as it were, the dregs and Mud of the Universe, appearing to them thrô moist and foggy Clouds and Mists, a little Place, low, abject, and immovable thing without any Brightness or Light whatever, how this pitiful inconsiderable thing should be able to produce, nourish, and maintain Animals, that have Motion, Respiration and Heat. And if peradventure they had ever heard these Verses of Homer; 
A filthy squalid Place, abhorred even by  
The Gods themselves:—   
And again, 
Hell is as far beneath, as heaven above  
The Earth:—  they would certainly think them to have been written of this Place, where we live, and that here is Hell and tartarous, and that the Earth equally distant from Heaven and Hell, is only the Moon.  
I had not yet well ended my Discourse, when Sylla, interrupting me, said, Forbear, Lamprias, and put a stop to your Discourse, lest running, as they say, the Vessel of your Story on ground, you confounded and spoil all the Play, which has at present another Scene and Disposition. I myself therefore shall be the Actor, but shall, before I enter upon my Part, make known to you the Poet or Author, beginning, if there is nothing to hinder, with that of Homer; 
Far off within the Sea  
Lies th' Isle Ogygië,  distant about five Days sail westward from Britain: and before it there are three others, of an equal Distance from one another, and also from that, bearing north-west, where the Sun sets in Summer: In one of these the Barbarians feign, that Saturn is detained Prisoner by Jupiter, who, as his Son, having the Guard or keeping of those Islands, and the adjacent Sea, named the Saturnian, has his Seat a little below: and that the Continent, or main Land, by which the great Sea is circularly environed, is distant from Ogygia about five hundred Stadia, but from the others, not so far, Men using to row thither in Gallies, the Sea being there low and ebb, and difficult to be passed by great Vessels, because of the Mud, brought thither by a Multitude of Rivers, which, coming from the main Land, discharge themselves into it, and raise there great Bars and Shelves, that choke up the River, and render it hardly navigable; whence anciently there arose an Opinion of its being frozen. Moreover the Coasts of this Continenr, lying on the Sea, are inhabited by the Greeks about a Bay, not much less than the Moeotick Fens, the Mouth of which lies in a direct Line over against that of the Caspian Sea. These name and esteem themselves the Inhabitants of the firm Land, calling all us others Islanders, as dwelling in a Land, encompassed round about, and washed by the Sea. And they think, that those, who heretofore came thither, and were left there by him, mixing themselves with the People of Saturn, raised up again the Greek Nation, which was well near extinguished, brought under, and supplanted by the Language, Laws, and Manners of the Barbarians, and made it again flourish, and recover its pristine vigour. And therefore in that Place they give the first Honor to Hercules, and the second to Saturn. Now when the Star of Saturn, by us called Phaenon, and by them Nycturus, comes to the Sign of Taurus, as it does once in the Time of thirty years, they, having been a long time preparing, what is necessary for a solemn Sacrifice, and a long Voyage or Navigation, sand forth those, on whom the Lot falls, to row in that vast Sea, and make their Abode for a great while in foreign Countreys. These Men then, being embarked, and departed, meet with different Adventures, some in one manner, others in another. Now such as have in safety passed the Dangers of the Sea, go first ashore in those opposite Islands, which are inhabited by the Greeks, where they see, that the Sun is scarce hidden one full hour during the Space of thirty Days, and that this is their Night, of which the Darkness is but small, as having a twilight from the going down of the Sun, nor unlike the Dawning of the Day: that having continued there ninety Days, during which they are highly caressed and honoured, as being reputed and termed holy Men, they are afterwards conducted by the Winds, and transported into the Isle of Saturn, where there are no other Inhabitants but themselves, and such as have been sent thither before them. For thô 'tis lawful for them, after they have served Saturn thirty years, to return home to their own Countreys and Houses, yet most of them choose rather to remain quietly there: some, because they are already accustomed to the Place; others, because without any labour and Trouble, they have abundance of all things, as well for the offering of Sacrifices, and holding Festival Solemnities, as to support the ordinary expenses of those, who are perpetually conversant in the Study of Learning and Philosophy. For they affirm the Nature of the iceland, and the Mildness of the Air, which environs it, to be admirable; and that there have been some Persons, who, intending to depart thence, have been hindered by the Divinity or Genius of the Place, showing himself to them, as to his familiar Friends and Acquaintance, not only in Dreams, and exterior Signs, but also visibly appearing to them by the Means of familiar Spirits and Daemons, discoursing and conversing with them. For they say, that Saturn himself is personally there, lying asleep in the deep Cave of an hollow Rock, shining like fine Gold, Jupiter having prepared Sleep instead of Fetters and Shackles, to keep him from stirring: But that there are on the Top of this Rock certain Birds, which fly down and carry him Ambrosia: that the whole iceland is filled with an admirable Fragrancy and Perfume, which is spread all over it, arising from this Cave, as from an odiferous Fountain: that these Daemons serve and minister to Saturn, having been his Courtiers and nearest Attendants, when he held the Empire and exercised Regal Authority over Men and Gods: and that having the Science of divining future Occurrences, they of themselves foretell many things; but the greatest, and of the highest Importance, when they return from assisting Saturn, and reveal his Dreams: for whatever Jupiter premeditates, Saturn dreams; but his Awakenings are Titanical Passions or Perturbations of the Soul in him. His Sleep is altogether, and*** the Royal and divine Nature pure and incontaminate in itself.  
This Stranger then, having been brought thither, and there serving the God in Repose, and at his Ease, attained to as great Skill in Astrology, as 'tis possible for any one to do, that has made the greatest Progress in Geometry. As for the rest of Philosophy, having given himself to that, which is called Natural, he was seized with an extraordinary Desire and Longing to visit and see the great iceland: for so they call the Continent, inhabited by us. After therefore his thirty years were passed, and his Successors arrived, having taken leave of all his Relations and Friends, he put to Sea, in other respects soberly and moderately equipped, but having good store of Voyage-Provision in Vessels of Gold. Now one Day would not suffice to relate unto you in particular, what Adventures befell him, how many Nations he visited, thrô how many Countreys he passed, how he searched into Sacred Writings, and was initiated in all holy Confraternities, and Religious Societies, as he himself recounted it to us, exactly particularising every thing. But give ear, I pray you, to what concerns the present Dispute. For he continued no small time at Carthage, a City, not a little also esteemed by us, since the Destruction of the former, where he found certain sacred Skins of Parchment, which had been secretly conveyed thither, when the old Town was sacked, and had there long lain hidden under Ground. Now he  told me, that of all the Gods, which appear to us in Heaven, we ought chiefly to honour the Moon, and earnestly exhorted me to be diligent in venerating of her, as having the principal Influence and Dominion over our Life.  
At these things when I was amazed, and entreated him to declare and explain them a little more fully to me: The Greeks, said he, O Sylla, deliver many things concerning the Gods, but they are not always in the Right: for first, when they tell us, that there is a Ceres, and a proserpina, they say well; but not so well, when they put them both in one and the same Place: for the one, to wit, Ceres, is on the Earth, and the Lady and mistress of all earthly things; and the other, to wit, proserpina, in the Moon, and is by those, that inhabit there, called Core and Persephone: Persephone, as being a Bringer of Light and Brightness; and Core, because the Apple or Sight of the Eye, in which the Image of him, who looks into it, is represented, as the Brightness of the Sun appears in the Moon, is by the Greeks called Core. And as to what they say concerning the Wandring about of Ceres and Proserpina, and their mutual seeking of one another, there is in it somewhat of Truth: for they long after each other, being separated, and often embrace in Shadow. And that this Core is sometimes in Heaven and Light, and sometimes in Darkness and Night, is not untrue; only there is some Error in the Computation of the Time: for we see her not six whole Months, but every sixth Month, or from six Months to six Months, caught in the Shadow by the Earth, as by her Mother; and this rarely happens within five Months, because 'tis impossible she should forsake Pluto, being his Wife: which Homer also covertly, but not unelegantly signified, when he said, 
Into th' Elysian Fields, Earths utmost Bounds,  
The Gods will bring thee.—  For he has there placed the End and Boundary of the Earth, where the Shadow ceases, and goes no farther. Now into that Place no wicked or impure Person can have Access. But good Folks, being after their Decease carried thither, led there indeed an easy and quiet, but yet not a blessed and divine Life, till the second Death. But what that is, O Sylla, ask me not, for I am of myself going to declare it to you.  
The common Opinion, and which most Persons hold, is, that Man is a compound Subject, and this they have reason to believe; but they are mistaken in thinking him to be compounded of two Parts only: for they imagine, that the Understanding is a Part of the Soul; but the Understanding as far exceeds the Soul, as the Soul is better and diviner than the Body. Now this Composition of the Soul with the Understanding makes Reason, and with the Body Passion: of which this is the Beginning or Principle of Pleasure and Pain, and that of virtue and 'vice. Of these three Parts, conjoined and compacted together, the Earth has given the Body, the Moon the Soul, and the Sun the Understanding to the Generation of Man.*** as therefore Brightness to the Moon. Now of the Deaths, we dy, the one makes Man two of three, and the other one of two. And the former indeed is in the Region and Jurisdiction of Ceres, which is the Reason of our Sacrificing to h●r. The Athenians also heretofore called the deceased {αβγδ}, or Cerealians. As for the other Death, it is in the Moon, or Region of Proserpina. And as with the one the Terrestrial, so with the other the Celestial Mercury inhabits. This suddenly, and with Force and Violence plucks the Soul from the Body; but Proserpina mildly, and in a long time disjoyns the Understanding from the Soul. And for this Reason is she called {αβγδ}, that is, Only begotten, or rather, Begetting one alone; for the better Part of Man becomes alone, when it is separated by her. Now both the one and the other happens thus according to Nature. 'tis ordained by Fate, that every Soul, whether with or without Understanding, when gone out of the Body, should wander for a time, thô not all for the same, in the Region, lying between the Earth and the Moon. For those, that have been unjust and dissolute, suffer there the Punishments, due to their Offences; but the good and virtuous are there detained, till they are purified, and have by Expiation purged out of them all the Infections, they might have contracted from the Contagion of the Body, which is as it were the Author of all Evil, living in the mildest part of the Air, called the Meadows of Pluto, where they must remain for a certain prefixed and appointed time. And then, as if they were returning from a wandring Pilgrimage or long Exile into their Country, they have a Taste of Joy, such, as they principally receive, who are initiated in sacred Mysteries, mixed with Trouble, Admiration, and each ones proper and peculiar Hope. For it drives and chaces out many Souls, which already long after the Moon. Some take Pleasure to be still below, and look yet again as it were downward towards the Bottom; but those, that are got on high, are there most securely seated. First, they are, as Victors, crowned with Garlands, called the Wings of Constancy, because in their Lives they restrained the unreasonable and passable part of their Soul, rendering it subject and obedient to the kerb of Reason. Secondly, They resemble in Sight the Rays of the Sun. Thirdly, The Soul, which is thus raised on high, is there confirmed and fortified by the Air, which is about the Moon, where it gathers Strength and Solidity, as Iron and Steel do by their being tempered and plunged in Water. F●r that, which was hitherto rare and loose, is compacted and made firm, and becomes bright, and transparent: so that 'tis nourished with the least Exhalation in the World. And this is what Heraclitus meant, when he said, that the Souls in Pluto's Region have their Smell exceeding quick.  
Now they first see the Moons Greatness, Beauty, and Nature, which is not simplo and unmixed, but a Composition as it were of Earth and Star. For as the Earth, mixed with Wind and Moisture, becomes soft, and, as the Blood, tempered with the Flesh, gives it Sense: so they say, that the Moon, being mingled with an ethereal Quintessence, even to the very Bottom, is animated, becomes fruitful and generative, and is equally counterpoised with Ponderosity and Lightness. For even the World itself, being composed of some things, naturally moving upwards, and others, by Nature tending downward, is exempt from all local Motion or Change of Place. These things also Xenocrates seems by a certain divine Reasoning to have understood, having taken his first Light from Plato. For Plato it was, who first affirmed, that every Star is compounded of Fire and Earth, by the means of certain intermediate Natures, given in Proportion: forasmuch as nothing can be an Object of human Sense, which has not in some Proportion a Mixture of Earth and Light. Now Xenocrates says, that the Stars and the Sun are composed of Fire and the first or primitive Solid, the Moon of the second Solid, and its own peculiar Air, and the Earth of Water, Fire, and the third Solid. For neither is the Solid alone by itself, nor the Rare alone by itself, capable or susceptible of a Soul. And let thus much suffice for the Substance of the Moon.  
Now as to her Breadth and Magnitude, 'tis not such as the Geometricians deliver, but manifoldly greater. And she seldom measures the Shadow of the Earth by her Greatness, not because it is small, but because it adds most fervent Motion, that she may quickly pass the shady Place, carrying with her the Souls of the Blessed, which make hast and cry. For when they are in the Shadow, they can no longer hear the Harmony of the Heavenly Bodies. And withal, the Souls of the damned are from below presented to them, lamenting and wailing thrô this Shadow. Wherefore also in Eclipses, many are wont to ring Vessels of Brass, and to make a Noise and Clattering about these Souls. Moreover, that which is called the Face of the Moon, affrights them, when they draw near it, seeming to them a dreadful and terrible Sight, whereas indeed it is not so. But as our Earth has deep and great bays, one here running between herculeses Pillars into the Land to us, and others without, as the Caspian, and those about the read Sea: so in the Moon also there are Hollows and great Depths, Now of these the greatest they call the Gulf of Hecate, where the Souls perish, or are punished according to the Evils, they did or suffered, whilst they were here. The two others are little Straits, thrô which the Soul must go sometimes to that part of the Moon, which is towards Heaven, and sometimes to that, which is towards Earth. Now that part of the Moon, which is towards Heaven, is called the Elysian Fields, and that, which is towards Earth, the Fields of Proserpina, not her, that is opposite to the Earth. Now the Daemons do not always stay in the Moon, but sometimes descend down here below to have the Care and Superintendency of Oracles: They are assistant also, and join in celebrating the sublimest Ceremonies, having their Eye upon Misdeeds, which they punish, and preserving the Good as well in Perils of War, as of the Sea. And if in the Performance of this Charge they commit any Fault, either thrô Anger, Envy, or any unjust Grace and favour, they smart for it: for they are again thrust down to the Earth, and tied to Human Bodies. Now those, who were about Saturn, said, that themselves were some of the better of these Daemons, as were formerly those, that were heretofore in Crete called Dactyli Idaei, the Corybantes in Phrygia, and the Trophoniades in Lebadia, a City of Boeotia, and infinite others in several Places of the Habitable Earth, whose Names, Temples, and Honors continue to this Day; but the Powers of some fail, being by a most happy Change translated to another Place, which Translations some obtain sooner, others later, when the Understanding comes to be separated from the Soul: which Separation is made by the Love and Desire to enjoy the Image of the Sun, in which, and by which, shines that divine, desirable, and happy Beauty, which every other Nature differently long after, and seeks, one after one manner, another after another. For the Moon her self continually turns thrô the Desire, she has to be joined with him. Thus the Nature of the Soul remains in the Moon, retaining only some Prints and Dreams of Life: And of this think it to have been well and truly said: The Soul, like to a Dream, flies quick away; which it does not immediately, as soon as it is separated from the Body; but afterwards, when it is alone, and divided, from the Understanding. And of all, that Homer ever writ, there is not any one Passage more divine than that, in which speaking of those, who are departed this Life, he says, 
Next these I saw Alcides Image move;  
Himself is with th' Immortal Gods above.  For every one of us is neither Courage, nor Fear, nor Desire, no more than Flesh or Humors; but the Part, by which we think and understand: And the Soul, being moulded and formed by the Understanding, and itself moulding and forming the Body, by embracing it on every side, receives from it an Impression and Form, so that, although it be separated both from the Understanding and the Body, it nevertheless so retains still its Figure and Semblance for a long time, that i● may with good right be called its Image.  
And of these Souls, as I have already said, the Moon is the Element, because Souls resolve into her, as the Bodies of the Deceased do into Earth. Those indeed, who have been virtuous and honest, living a quiet and philosophical Life, without embroiling themselves in troublesone Affairs, are quickly resolved, because being left by the Understanding, and no longer using corporeal Passions, they incontinently vanish away; but the Souls of the Ambitious, and such as have been busy'd in Negotiations, of the Amorous, and who have been addicted to Corporeal Pleasures, as also of the Angry and Revengeful, calling to mind the things they did in their Lives, as Dreams in their Sleep, walk wandring about here and there, like that of Endymion: because their Inconstancy, and their being over subject to Passions, transports them, and draws them out of the Moon to another Generation, not letting them rest, but alluring them, and calling them away. For there is nothing small, stayed, constant, and accordant, after that being forsaken by the Understanding, they come to be seized by corporeal Passions. And of such Souls, 
Instead of {αβγδ}, I red {αβγδ}.  destitute of all Reason, and suffering themselves to be carried away by the proud Violence of all Passions, came and were bread afterwards the Tityi, and Typhons, and particularly that Typhon, who, having by Force and Violence seized the City of Delphi, overturned the Sanctuary of the Oracle there. Nevertheless, after a long Tract of Time, the Moon receives those Souls, and re-composes them: and the Sun, inspiring again, and sowing Understanding in their vital Faculty, makes them new Souls: and the Earth a third time gives them a Body. For she gives nothing after Death of all, that she takes to Generation: And the Sun takes nothing, but resumes and receives again the Understanding, which he gave. But the Moon gives and receives, joins and disjoyns, unites and separates, according to divers Faculties and Powers: of which the one is named Ilithyia, or Lucina, to wit, that, which joins; and the other Artemis, or Diana, to wit, that, which separates and divides. And of the three Fatal Goddesses or Parcae, she, which is called Atropos, is placed in the Sun, and gives the Principle of Generation; and Clotho, being lodged in the Moon, is she, who joins, mingles, and unites; and the last, named Lachesis, is on the Earth, where she adds her helping Hand, and with her does Fortune very much participate. For that which is without a Soul, is weak in itself; and liable to be affencted by others: the Understanding is sovereign over all the rest, and cannot be made to suffer by any. Now the Soul is a certain middle thing, mixed of them both: as the Moon was by God made and created a Composition and Mixture of things high and low, having the same Proportion to the Sun, as the Earth has to her.  
This, said Sylla, is, what I understood from this Guest of mine, who was a Stranger, and a Traveller: and this, he said, he learnt from the Daemons, who served and ministered to Saturn. And you, O Lamprias, may take my Relation in such part as you please.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Of Eating of Flesh. The First Tract.  Translated from the Greek by William Baxter, Gent. 
YOu ask of me then for what reason it was that Pythagoras abstained from Eating of Flesh. I for my part do much admire in what humour, with what Soul, or Reason the first Man with his Mouth touched slaughter, and reached to his Lips the Flesh of a dead Animate: And having set before People Courses of ghastly Corpses and Ghoasts could give those parts the Names of Meat and Victuals, that but a little before lowed, cried, moved and saw: How his sight could endure the Blood of slaughtered, flayed and mangled Bodies: How his smell could bear their Scent: And how the very nastiness happened not to offend the taste, while it chewed the sores of others, and participated of the Saps and Juices of deadly Wounds.  
Fleeces did creep, Flesh on the Spits did bellow,  
Both Raw and Roast.  
This indeed is but a fiction and fancy, but the Fare itself is truly monstrous and prodigious; that a Man should have a Stomach to Creatures while they yet bellow, and that he should be giving directions which of things yet alive and speaking is fittest to make Food of, and ordering the several manners of the seasoning, and dressing them, and serving them up to Tables. You ought rather in my opinion to have inquired who first began this practise, than who of late Times left it off. And truly as for those People who first ventured upon Eating of Flesh, it is very probable that the whole reason of their so doing, was scarcity and want of other Food. For it is not likely that their living together in lawless and extravagant lusts, or their growing wanton and capricious through the excessive variety of Provisions then among them, brought them to such unsociable Pleasures as these, against Nature. Yea, had they at this instant but their sense and voice restored to them, I am persuaded they would express themselves to this purpose. Oh! Happy you, and highly favoured of the Gods, who now live! Into what an Age of the World are you fallen, who share and enjoy among you a plentiful Portion of good things! What abundance of things spring up for your use! What Fruitful Vineyards you enjoy! What wealth you gather from the Fields! What delicacies from Trees and Plants which you may gather! You may glut and fill yourselves without being polluted. As for us, we fell upon the most dismal and affrighting part of time, in which we were exposed by our first Production to manifold and inextricable wants and necessities. As yet the thickened Air concealed the Heaven from our view, and the Stars as yet confused with a disorderly huddle of fire and moist and violent Fluxions of Winds. As yet the Sun was not fixed to an unwandring and certain course: But drew both East and West round about you: And then again return'd behind you, twisting about the Fruitful Seasons, like Garlands upon a Cup. The Land was also spoiled by the Inundations of disorderly Rivers: And a great part of it was deformed with Loughs, and utterly wild by reason of deep Quagmires, unfertile Forrests and Woods. There was then no production of tame Fruits, nor any Instrument of Art, or Invention of Wit. And hunger gave no time, nor did Seed-time then stay for the yearly Seasons. What wonder is it if we made use of the Flesh of Beasts contrary to Nature, when Mud was Eaten and the Bark of Wood, and when it was thought a happy thing to find either a sprouting Grass, or a Root of any Plant. But when they had by chance tasted of, or eaten, an Akorn, they danced for very joy about some Oak or Esculus, calling it by the Names of Life-giver, Mother and Nourisher: And this was the only Festival that those times were acquainted with: Upon all other occasions all things were full of anguish and dismal sadness. But whence is it that a certain ravenousness and frenzy drives you in these happy days to pollute yourselves with Blood, since you have such an abundance of things necessary for your subsistence? Why do you belie the Earth as unable to maintain you? Why do you profane the Law-giver Ceres, and shane the mildred and Gentle Bacchus, as not furnishing you with sufficiency? Are you not ashamed to mix tame Fruits with Blood and Slaughter? You are indeed wont to call Serpents, Leopards and Lions Savage Creatures, but yet yourselves are defiled with Blood; and come nothing behind them in cruelty. What they kill is their ordinary nourishment, but what you kill indeed is your better fare. For we eat not Lions and Wolves by way of revenge: But let those go, and catch the harmless, and tame sort, and such as have neither Stings nor Teeth to bite with, and slay them; which so may Jove help us, nature seems to us to have produced for their beauty and comeliness only. Just as if one seeing the River Nilus over-flowing its banks and thereby filling the whole Country with genial and fertile moisture, should not at all admire that secret power in it that produces Plants and plenteousness of most sweet and useful Fruits, but beholding somewhere a Crocodile swimming in it, or an asp crawling along, or flies,( Savage and filthy Creatures) should presently affirm these to be the occasion of all that is amiss, or of any want or defect that may happen. Or as if indeed one contemplating this Land or Ground, how full it is of tame Fruits, and how heavy with Ears of Corn, should afterwards spy somewhere in these same Corn-feilds an Ear of Darnel or a Wild fetch, and thereupon neglect to reap and gather in the Corn, and fall a complaining of these. Such another thing it would be, if one seeing the Harangue of some Advocate at some Bar or Pleading, swelling and enlarging and hastening towards the relief of some impending danger, or else, by Jupiter, in the impeaching and charging of certain audacious villainies or Indictments, flowing and rolling along, and that not in a simplo and poor strain, but with many sorts of passions all at once, or rather indeed with all sorts, in one and the same manner, into the many, and various and differing minds of either Hearers or Judges, that he is either to turn and change; or else, by Jupiter, to soften, appease and quiet; should overlook all this business, and never consider or reckon up the labour or struggle he had undergone, but pick up certain loose expressions, which the rapid motion of the discourse had carried along with it as by the stream of its current, and so had slipped and escaped the rest of the Oration; and hereupon undervalue the Orator. But we are nothing put out of countenance, either by the beauteous gayity of the colours, or by the charmingness of the Musical Voices, or by the rare Sagacity of the Intellects, or by the cleanliness and neatness of Diet, or by the rare discretion and prudence of these poor unfortunate Animals; but for the sake of some little mouthful of Flesh, deprive a Soul of the Sun and Light and of that proportion of Life and Time it had been Born into the World to enjoy. And then we fancy that the Voices it utters and screams forth to us are nothing else but certain inarticulate sounds and noises, and not the several Deprecations, Entreaties, and Pleadings of each of them, as it were saying thus to us; I deprecate not thy necessity( if such there be) but thy wantonness: Kill me for thy feeding: But do not take me off for thy better feeding. O horrible cruelty! It is truly an affecting sight to see the very Table of Rich People laid before them, who keep them Cooks and Caterers to furnish them with Dead Corpses for their daily Fare: But it is yet more affecting to see it taken away, for there is more mammocks left than was eaten. These therefore were slain for no purpose. Others there are that though they have abstained from what had been set before them, yet will not suffer others to cut or slice what they themselves had rejected; and yet would not abstain from them while alive. Well then, we understand that that sort of Men are used to say, that in eating of Flesh they follow the conduct and direction of Nature. But that it is not natural to Mankind to feed on Flesh, we first of all demonstrate from the very Shape and Figure of the Body. For a human Body no way resembles those that were Born for ravenousness: It hath no Hawk-bill; no sharp Tallon; no roughness of Teeth; no such strength of Stomach, or heat of digestion as can be sufficient to convert or alter such heavy and fleshy Fare. But even from hence, that is from the smoothness of the Tongue, and the slowness of the Stomach to digest Nature seems to disclaim all pretence to Fleshy Victuals. But if you will contend that yourself was Born to an inclination to such Food, you have now a mind to eat: Do you then yourself kill, what you would eat. But do it your own self; without the help of a Chopping Knife, Mallet or Axe; as Wolves, Bears and lions do, who kill and eat at once. Rend an ox with thy Teeth, worry a Hog with thy Mouth, tear a Lamb or a Hare in pieces, and fall on and eat it alive as they do. But if thou hadst rather stay until what thou eatest is become dead, and if thou art loathe to force a Soul out of its Body, why then dost thou against Nature eat an Animate thing? Nay there is no body that is willing to eat even a lifeless and a dead thing as it is, but they boil it, and Roast it, and alter it by Fire and Medicines, as it were changing and quenching the slaughtered Gore with Thousands of sweet sauces, that the Palate being thereby deceived, may admit of such uncouth Fare. It was indeed a witty Expression of a Lacedemonian, who having purchased a small Fish in a certain Inn, delivered it to his Landlord to be dressed: And as he demanded Cheese and Vinegar and oil to make sauce, he replied, if I had had those I would not have bought the Fish. But we are grown so wanton in our bloody Luxury, that we have bestowed upon Flesh the Name of Meat, and then require another Meat to this same Flesh, mixing oil, Wine, Honey, Pickle, and Vinegar with Syrian and Arabian Spices, as though we really meant to embalm it after its decease. Indeed when things are dissolved, and made thus tender and soft, and are as it were turned into a sort of a Carriony Corruption, it must needs be a great difficulty for Concoction to master them, and when it hath mastered them, they must needs cause grievous oppressions, and qualmy indigestions. Diogenes ventured once to eat a raw Pourcontrel, that he might disuse himself from Meat dressed by Fire: And as several Priests and other People stood round him, he wrapped his head in his Cassock and so putting the Fish his to Mouth, he thus said unto them: It is for your sakes, Sirs, that I undergo this danger, and run this risk; a Noble and Gallant risk, by Jupiter. For no otherwise than as Pelopidas ventured his Life for the Liberty of the Thebans, and Harmodius and Aristogiton for that of the Athenians, did this Philosopher encounter with a raw Pourcontrel, to the end he might make human Life more brutish. Moreover these same Flesh-eatings are not only preternatural to Mens Bodies, but also by clogging and cloying them render their very Minds and Intellects gross also. For it is well known to most that Wine and much Flesh-eating make the Body indeed strong and lusty, but the mind weak and feeble. And that I may not offend the Wrestlers, I will make use of Examples out of my own Country. The Athenians are wont to call us Boeotians Gross, Senseless and Stupid Fellows, for no other reason but our over much eating. And sometimes also Hogs for the same reason. Menander the comedian, calls us, Fellows with long jaws. It is observed also, that according to the saying of Heraclitus, A dry light has the wisest Soul. Earthen jars if you strike them will sound, but if they be full they perceive not the stroke that are given them. Copper Vessels also that are thin communicate their sound round about them, unless some one stop and dull the ambient stroke with his Fingers. Moreover the Eye when seized with an over great plenitude of humors grows dim and feeble for its ordinary work. When we behold the Sun through a humid Air and a great quantity of gross and indigested vapours, we do not see it clear and bright, but obscure and cloudy and with glimmering Beams. Just so in a muddy and clogged Body, that is swagged down with heavy and unnatural nourishments, it must needs happen that the gaiety and splendour of the Mind be confused and dulled, and that it ramble and roll after little and scarce discernible Objects, since it wants clearness and vigour for higher things. But to pass by these considerations, is not accustoming ones self to mildness and an human temper of mind an admirable thing? For who could wrong or injure a Man that is so sweetly and humanly disposed with respect to the ills of strangers that are not of his kind? I remember that three days ago, as I was discoursing, I made mention of a Saying of Xenocrates, and how the Athenians gave judgement upon a certain Person who had flayed a living Ram. For my part I cannot think him a worse Criminal that torments a poor Creature while living than a Man that shall take away its Life and murder it. But( as it seems) we are more sensible of what is done against Custom than against Nature. These are now their more common and vulgar Reasonings upon this Subject. As for that grand and mysterious Principle which( as Plato speaks) is incredible to base minds, and to such as affect only mortal things, I as little care to move in this discourse, as a Pilot doth a Ship in a Storm, or a comedian his Machine while the Scences are moving. But perhaps it would not be amiss by way of Introduction and Preface to strike up and Sing certain Verses of Empedocles. For in those by way of Allegory he hints at Mens Souls, as that they are tied to mortal Bodies, to be punished for murders, eating of Flesh, and of one another. Although this Doctrine seems much ancienter than his time. For the Fables that are storied and related about the discerption of Bacchus, and the Attempts of the Titans upon him, and of their tasting of his slain Body, and of their several punishments and Fulminations afterwards, are but a Representation of the Regeneration. For what in us is unreasonable, disorderly and boisterous, being not Divine but demoniac, the Ancients termed Titans, and that is it that is to suffer torments, and to undergo vengeance after death.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Of Eating of Flesh. The Second Tract.  Translated from the Greek by the same hand. 
REason persuades us now to return with fresh Cogitations and Dispositions to what we left could yesterday of our Discourse about Flesh-Eating. It is indeed a hard and a difficult task to undertake( as Cato once said) to dispute with Mens Bellys that have no Ears; since most have already drunk that draft of Custom, which is like that of Circe, Of groans and frauds and sorcery replete.  
And it is no easy Task to pull out the Hook of Flesh-Eating from the Jaws of such as have gorged themselves with Luxury, and are as it were nailed down with it. It would indeed be a good action, if as the egyptians draw out the Stomach of a dead Body, and cut it open and expose it to the Sun, as the only cause of all its evil Actions, so we could by cutting out our Gluttony and Bloodshedding, purify and cleanse the remainder of our lives. For the stomach itself is not guilty of Bloodshed, but is involuntarily polluted by our intemperance. But if this may not be, and we are ashamed by reason of custom to live unblamably, let us at least sin with discretion: Let us eat flesh, but let it be for hunger, and not for wantonness. Let us kill an Animal but let us do it with sorrow and pity, and not abusing and tormenting it, as many now a days are used to do, while some run read hot Spits through the Bodies of Swine, that by the tincture of the quenched Iron the Blood may be to that degree mortified, that it may sweeten and soften the Flesh in its circulation: and others jump and stamp upon the Udders of Sows that are ready to big, that so they may take off( Oh! Piacular Jupiter,) in the very pangs of delivery, Blood, Milk and Corruption,( destroying the young ones besides) and so eat the most inflamed and diseased Part of the Animal: others sow up the Eyes of Cranes and Swans, and so shut them up in darkness to be fattened, and then sowce up their flesh with certain monstrous Mixtures and Pickles. By all which it is most manifest, that it is not for nourishment, or want, or any necessity, but for mere gluttony, wantonness and expensiveness that they make a Pleasure of villainy. Just as it happens in such Persons as when they cannot satiate their Intemperance upon Women, having made trial of every thing else, and falling into vagaries, at last attempt things not to be mentioned: even so inordinateness in feeding, when it hath once passed the bounds of nature and necessity, studies at last to diversify the Lusts of its intemperate Appetite by cruelty and villainy. For the Senses when they once quit their natural Measures, sympathise with each other in their distempers, and are enticed by each other to the same consent, and intemperance. Thus a distempered Ear first debauched music, the soft and effeminate Notes of which provoketh immodest touches and lascious tickling. These things first taught the Eye not to delight in merry embracings, gesticulations of Hands, Currants and Borées, nor in Statues and fine Paintings; but to reckon the slaughtering and death of Mankind, and Wounds and Duels, the most sumptuous of shows and Spectacles. Thus unlawful Tables are accompanied with intemperate Copulations with unmusicianlike Balls, and theaters become Monstrous through shameless Songs and Rehearsals: and Barbarous and Brutish shows are again accompanied with an unrelenting temper and savage cruelty towards Mankind. Hence it was that the Divine Lycurgus in his Three Books of Laws( called by him Rhetrae) gave Orders that the Doors and Ridges of Mens Houses should be made with a Saw and an Ax, and that no other Instrument should so much as be brought to any House. Not that he did hereby intend to declare War against Augres and Planes, and other Instruments of finer Work; but because he very well knew that with such Tools as these, you will never bring into your House a guilded Couch, and that you'l never attempt to bring into a slender Cottage either Silver-Tables, Purple-Carpets, or Costly-Stones: But that a plain Supper and a homely Dinner must accompany such a House, Couch, Table and Cup. The beginning of a vicious Diet is presently followed by all sorts of Luxury and Expensiveness: even as a mere is by her thirsty Colt.  
And what Meal is not expensive, for which an Animal is put to death? Shall we reckon a Soul to be a small expense? I will not say perhaps of a Mother, or a Father, or of some Friend, or Child, as Empedocles did; but one participating of Feeling, of Seeing, of Hearing, of Imagination and of Intellection; which each of them hath received from nature for the acquiring of what is agreeable to it, and the avoiding what is disagreeable. Do but consider this with yourself now, which sort of Philosophers render us most tame and civil, they who bid People to feed on their Children, Friends, Fathers and Wives, as if they were dead; or Phythagoras and Empedocloes, that accustom Men to be just towards even the other Members of the Creation. You laugh at a Man that will not eat a Sheep: But we( they'l say again) when we see you cutting off the Parts of your dead Father, or Mother, and sending it to your absent Friends, and calling upon and inviting your present Friends to eat the rest freely and hearty, shall we not smile? Nay peradventure we offend at this instant time while we touch these Books without having first cleansed our Hands, Eyes, Feet and Ears: if it be not( by Jupiter) a sufficient purgation of them, to have discoursed of these Matters in potable and fresh Language( as Plato speaketh) thereby washing off the brackishness of Hearing. Now if a Man should set these Books and Discourses in opposition to each other, he will find that the Philosophy of the one sort, suits with the Seythians, Sogdians and Melanchlaenians of whom Herod●● his Relation is scarce believed: but the Sentiments of Pythagoras and Empedocles were the Laws and Customs of the ancient Grecians. Who then were the first Authors of this opinion, that we owe no Justice to dumb Animals?  
Who first beat out accursed Steel,  
And made the labouring ox a Knife to feel.  
In the very same manner Oppressors and Tyrants begin first to  shed Blood. For example, the first Man that the Athenians ever put to death, was one Epitedius, the basest of all Knaves; after him they put to death a second and a third: After this being now accustomend to Blood, they patiently saw Niceratus the Son of Nicias, and their own General Theramenes, and Polemarchus the Philosopher suffer death. Even so in the beginning some wild and mischievous Beast was killed and eaten, and then some little bide or Fish was entrapped. And conquest being first experimented and exercised in these, at last passed even to the labouring ox, and the Sheep that clothes us, and to the poor Cock that keeps the House: Until by little and little unsatiableness being strengthened by use, Men came to the slaughter of Men, to Blood-shed and Wars. Now if one cannot demonstrate and make out that Souls in their Regenerations make a promiscuous use of all Bodies, and that that which is now rational will at another time be irrational, and that again tame which is now wild( for that nature changes and transmutes every thing; With different Fleshy Coats New clothing all.) This thing should be sufficient to change a Man that hath taken up an intemperate and luxurious Life, that it brings sickness and heavyness upon the Body, and that it inclines the mind the more brutishly to warm Blood-shed and destruction: When we have once accustomend ourselves neither to entertain a Guest, nor keep a Wedding, nor to treat our Friends, without Blood a●● Slaughter. And if what is argued about the return of Souls into Bodies is not of Force enough to beget Faith, yet methinks the very uncertainty of the thing should fill us with apprehension and fear. Suppose for instance one should in some Night Engagement rush on with his drawn Sword upon one that had fallen down and covered his Body with his Arms, and should in the mean time hear one say, that he was not very sure, but that he fansyed and believed, that the party lying there, was his Son, Brother, Father, or Tent-companion; which were more advisable think you, to harken to a false suggestion and so to let go an Enemy under the notion of a Friend; or to slight an Authority not sufficient to beget faith, and to slay a Friend instead of a Foe? This you will all say would be insupportable. Do but consider the famous Merope in the Tragedy, who taking up a Hatchet and lifting it at her Sons Head, whom she took for her Sons murderer, speaks thus as she was ready to give the fatal blow; Villain, this piercing blow shall cleave thy head; What a bustle she raises in the whole Theatre, while she raises her self to give the blow, and what a fear they are all in, least she should prevent the Old Man that comes to stop her hand, and should wound the Youth. Now if another Old Man should stand by her and say, strike it is thy Enemy, and this, hold it is thy Son; which think you would be the greater Injustice, to omit the punishing of an Enemy for the sake of ones Child, or to suffer ones self to be transported with anger at ones Enemy to murder ones Child! Since then neither hatred, nor wrath, nor any revenge, nor fear for ourselves, carries us to the slaughter of a Beast, but the poor sacrifice stands with an inclined neck only to satisfy thy ●●st and pleasure; and then one Philosopher stands by and tells thee, cut him down, it is but an unreasonable Animal; and another cries, hold: What if there should be the Soul of some Kinsman, or God enclosed in him? Good Gods! Is there the like danger if I refuse to eat Flesh; or if I for want of Faith murder my Child, or some other Friend? The stoics way of reasoning upon this Subject of Flesh-eating is no way equal nor consonant with themselves. Who is this that hath so many Mouths for his Belly and the kitchen? Whence comes it to pass that they so very much womanize and reproach Pleasure, as a thing that they will not allow to be either good, or preferable, or so much as agreeable, and yet all on a sudden become so zealous Advocates for Pleasures? It were indeed but a reasonable consequence of their Doctrine, that since they banish Perfumes, and Cakes from their Banquets, they should be much more averse to Blood and to Flesh. But now just as if they would reduce their Philosophy to their Diaryes, or Day-books, they lessen the expenses of their Suppers in certain unnecessary and needless Matters, but the untamed and murderous part of their expense they nothing boggle at. Well! What then( say they?) We have nothing to do with Brute Beasts? Nor have you any with Perfumes, nor with Foreign sauces,( may some one answer:) And yet you every where expel these from your Banquets, as both useless and needless. Let us therefore in the next place consider, whether we owe any Justice to the Brute Beasts: Neither shall we handle this Point, artificially or like subtle Sophisters, but by casting our Eye into our own Breasts, and conversing with ourselves as Men, we will weigh and examine the whole Matter.******   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Of Fate.  Translated out of the Greek by A. G. Gent. 
I Will endeavour, my dearest Piso, to sand you my Opinion concerning Fate, written with all the Clearness and Compendiousness, I am capable of: since you, who are not ignorant, how cautious I am of writing, have thought fit to make it the Subject of your Request. You are first then to know, that this word ( Fate) is spoken, taken, and understood two manner of Ways: the one, as it is an Action; the other, as it is a Substance. First therefore, as 'tis an Action, Plato has under a Type described it, saying thus in his Dialogue, entitled Phaedrus: And this is a Sanction of Adrastea, or an inevitable Ordinance that whatever Soul being an Attendant on God: And in his Treatise, called Timaeus: The Laws, which God in the Nature of the Universe has established for immortal Souls. And in his Books of a Common-weal he says, That Fate is the Speech of the Virgin Lachesis, who is the Daughter to Necessity. By which Sentences he not Tragically, but Theologically, shows us, what his Sentiments are in this matter. Now, if any one, perhaps taking again the fore-cited Passages, would have them expressed in more familiar Terms, the Description in Phaedrus may be thus explained: That Fate is a divine Sentence, intransgressible thrô a Cause, which cannot be divested or hindered. And according to what he has said in his Timaeus, 'tis a Law ensuing on the Nature of the Universe, according to which all things, that are done, are transacted. For this does Lachesis effect, who is indeed the Daughter of Necessity, as we have both already related, and shall yet better understand by that, which will be said in the Pogress of our Discourse. Thus you see, what Fate is, when 'tis taken for an Action; but, as it is a substance, it seems to be the universal Soul of the World, and admits of a threefold Distribution: the first Destiny being that, which errs not; the second that, which is thought to err; and the third that, which, being under the Heaven, is conversant about the Earth. Of these the highest is called Clotho, the next Atropos, and the lowest Lachesis, who, receiving the celestial Influences and Efficacies of her Sisters, transmits and fastens them to the terrestrial things, which are under her Government. Thus have we declared, what is to be said of Fate, taken as a Substance, what it is, what are its Parts, after what manner it is, how it is ordained, and how it stands, both in respect to itself, and to us: but as to the Particularities of these things, there is another Fable in his Common-weal, by which they are in some measure covertly insinuated, and we ourselves have in the best manner, we can, endeavoured to explain them to you.  
But we now once again turn our Discourse to Fate, as it is an Action: For concerning this it is, that there are so many Natural, Moral, and Logical Questions. Having therefore already in some sort sufficiently defined, what it it is, we are now in the next place to say something of its Quality, although it may to many seem absurd. I say then, that Fate, thô comprehending as it were in a circled the Infinity of all those things, which are and have been from infinite Times, and shall be to infinite Ages, is not itself infinite, but determinate and finite: for neither Law, Reason, nor any other divine thing can be infinite. And this you will the better understand, if you consider the Total Revolution, and the universal Time, when the Swiftness of the eight Periods, that is, of the eight Spheres, having, as Timaeus says, finished their Course, return to one and the same Point, being measured by the circled of The same, which goes always after one manner. For in this Reason, which is finite and determinate, shall all things, which as well in Heaven as in Earth consist by Necessity from above, be reduced to the same Situation, and restored again to their first Beginning. Wherefore the only Habitude of Heaven, ordained in all things, as well in regard of itself, as of the Earth, and all terrestrial matters, shall again after long Revolutions one day return, and those things, that in order follow after, and, being linked together in a Continuity, are maintained in their Course, shall consequently also every one of them deliver, what it brings by Necessity. Now for the better clearing of this matter, let us suppose, that all, whatever is in us or about us, happens and is wrought by the Course of the Heavens and heavenly Influences, as being entirely the efficient Cause both of my writing, what I now writ, and of your doing also, what you at present do, and in the same manner, as you do it. Hereafter then, when the same Cause shall return, we shall do the same things, we now do, and in the same manner, and shall again become the same Men: and so it will be with all others. And that, which follows after, shall also happen by the following Cause: and in brief all things, that shall happen in every one of these universal Revolutions, shall again become the same. By this it appears, as we have already said before, that Fate, being in some sort infinite, is nevertheless determinate and finite: and it may be also in some sort seen and comprehended, as we have farther said, that it is as it were a circled: for as the Motion of a circled is a circled, and the Time, that Measures it, is also a circled: so the Reason of things, which are done, and happen in a circled, may be justly esteemed and called a circled.  
This therefore, thô there should be nothing else, almost shows us, what sort of thing Fate is, but not particularly, or in every respect. What kind of thing then is it in its own form? It is, as far as one can compare it, like to the Civil or politic Law. For first it commands the most part of things, if not all, at least by Supposition, and then it comprizes, as far as is possible for it, all things, that belong to the public in general: and the better to make you understand both the one and the other, we must specify them by an Example. The Civil Law speaks and ordains in general of a valiant Man, and also of a Deserter, and a Coward, and in the same manner of others; now this is not to make the Law speak of this or that Man in particular; but principally to propose such things, as are universal or general, and consequently, such, as fall under them. For we may very well say, that 'tis legal to reward this Man for having demeaned himself valiantly, and to punish that Man for flying from his colours: because the Law has virtually, thô not in express terms, and particularly yet in such general ones, as they are comprehended under, so determined of them. As the Law, if I may so speak, of Physicians and Masters of corporal Exercises potentially comprehends particular and special things within the general: so the Law of Nature, determining first and principally general Matters, secondarily and consequentially determins such, as are particular. Thus general things being decreed by Fate, particular and individual things may also in some sort be said to be so, because they are so by Consequence with the general. But perhaps some one of those, who more accurately examine, and more subtly search into these things, may say on the contrary, that particular and individual things precede the Composition of general things, and that the general is gathered for the particular: now that, for which another thing is, always goes before that, which is for it. Nevertheless this is not the proper Place to treat of this Difficulty; but 'tis to be remitted to another. However that Fate comprehends not all things clearly and expressly, but only such, as are universal and general, let it pass for resolved on at present, as well for what we have already said a little before, as for what we shall say hereafter. For that, which is finite and determinate, agreeing properly with divine Providence, is seen more in universal and general things, than in particular: such therefore is the divine Law, and also the Civil: but Infinity consists in Particulars and Individuals.  
After this we are to declare, what this Term, By Supposition, means: for 'tis to be thought, that Fate is also some such thing. That then is said to be by Supposition, which is not set down of itself or absolutely, but as truly supposed and joined to another: which signifies a svit and Consequence. And this is a Sanction of Adrastea, or an inevitable Ordinance, that whatever Soul, being an Attendant on God, shall see any thing of Truth, it shall till another Revolution be exempt from Punishment, and if it can always do the same, it shall never suffer any damage. Thus you see, what is meant by this Expression, By Supposition, and also universally. Now that Fate is some such thing, is clearly manifest, as well from its Substance, as from its Name. For it is called {αβγδ}, as being {αβγδ}, that is, dependant and linked: and it is a Sanction or Law, because things are therein ordained and disposed consequentially, as is usual in Civil Government.  
We ought in the next place to consider and treat of mutual Relation and Affection: that is, what Reference and Respect Fate has to Divine Providence, what to Fortune, what also to that, which is in our Power, what to Contingent, and other such like things: and furthermore we are to determine, how far and in what it is true or false, that All things happen and are done by, or according to, Fate: For, if the Meaning is, that all things are comprehended and contained in Fate, it must be granted, that this Proposition is true; and if any would farther have it so understood, that all things, which are done amongst Men, on Earth, and in Heaven, are placed in Fate, let this also pass as granted for the present: But if, as the Expression seems rather to imply, the Being done by, or according to, Fate, signifies not all things, but that, which is a Consequent, and dependant on it, then it must not be said or granted, that all things happon and are done by, and according to, Fate; thô all things are so according to Fate, as to be comprised in it. For all things, that the Law comprehends, and of which it speaks, are not legal, or according to Law: for it comprehends Treason, it treats of the cowardly Running away from ones colours in time of Battle, of Adultery, and many other such like things, of which it cannot be said, that any one of them is lawful. Neither indeed can I affirm of the performing a valorous Act in War, the killing of a Tyrant, or the doing any other virtuous dead, that it is legal: because that only is properly to be called legal, which is commanded by the Law. Now if the Law commands these things, how can they avoid being Rebels against the Law, and Transgressors of it, who neither perform valiant Feats of Arms, kill Tyrants, nor do any other such remarkable Acts of virtue? And if they are Transgressors of the Law, why is it not just, they should be punished? But if this is not reasonable, it must then be also confessed, that these things are not legal, or according to Law; but that Legal, and according to Law, is only that, which is particularly prescribed, and expressly commanded by the Law, in any Action whatsoever. In like manner those things only are fatal, and according to Fate, which are the Consequences of Causes preceding in the divine Disposition. So that Fate indeed comprehends all things, which are done; yet many of those things, that are comprehended in it, and almost all, that precede, should not, to speak properly, be pronounced to be fatal, or according to Fate.  
These things being so, we are next in order to show, how that, which is in us, to wit, Free-will, Fortune, Possible, Contingent, and other like things, which are placed amongst the antecedent Causes, can consist with Fate, and Fate with them: for Fate, as it seems, comprehends all things, and yet all these things do not happen by Necessity, but every one of them according to the Principle of its Nature. Now the Nature of the Possible is to presubsist, as the Genus, and go before the Contingent; and the Contingent, as the Matter and Subject, is to be presupposed to that, which is in us; and that, which is in us, or our Free-will ought, as a Master, to make use of the Contingent; and Fortune intercurs between that, which is in us, or our Free-will, thrô the Property of the Contingent, which is to incline to either Part. Now you will more easily apprehended, what has been said, if you shall consider, that every thing, which is generated, and the Generation itself is not done without a generative Faculty or Power, and the Power is not without a Substance; as for example neither the Generation of Man, nor that, which is generated, is without a Power: but this Power is about Man, and Man himself is the Substance. Now the Power or Faculty is between the Substance, which is the Powerful, and the Generation and the thing Generated, which are both Possibles. There being then these three things, the Power, the Powerful, and the Possible, before the Power can exist, the Powerful, must of necessity be presupposed, as its Subject, and the Power must also necessary subsist before the Possible. By this Deduction then may in some measure be understood and declared, what is meant by Possible, which may be thus grossly defined: Possible is that, which Power is able to produce; or yet more exactly, if to this same there be added, Provided there be nothing from without to hinder, or obstruct it. Now of Possible things there are some, which can never be hindered, as are those in Heaven, to wit, the Rising and Setting of the Stars, and the like to these; but others may indeed be empeach'd, as are the most part of human things, and many also of those, which are done in the Air. The first, as being done by Necessity, are called Necessary; the others, which may fall one way or other, are called Contingent: and they may both thus be described. The Necessary Possible is that, whose contrary is Impossible; and the Contingent Possible is that, whose contrary is also Possible. For that the Sun should set, is a thing both Necessary and Possible, for as much as 'tis contrary to this, that the Sun should not set, which is Impossible; but that, when the Sun is set, there should be Rain, or not Rain, both the one and the other, is Possible and Contingent. And then again of things contingent some happen oftener, others rarely and not so often: others fall out equally or indifferently, as well the one way as the other even as it happens. Now 'tis manifest, that those are contrary to one another, to wit, those, which fall out oftener, to those, which happen but seldom, and, they are both for the most part in Natural things; but that, which happens equally, as much one way as another, is in us. For that under the Dog it should be either hot or could, the one oftener, the other seldomer, are both things Subject to Nature; but to walk, and not to walk, and all such things, of which both the one and the other are submitted to the Free-will of Man, are said to be in us, and our Election, but rather more generally to be in us. For there are two sorts of this Being in us: the one, which proceeds from some sudden Passion and Motion of the Mind, as from Anger, or Pleasure; the other from the Discourse and judgement of Reason, which may properly be said to be in our Election. And some Reason there is, that this Possible and Contingent, which is said to be in us, and according to our Free-will, should not be called in other Respects the same: for in respect of the Future 'tis styled Possible and Contingent; and in respect of the Present 'tis named In us, and in our Free-will. So that these things may thus be defined: The Contingent is that, which is both itself, and its contrary Possible: and That, which is in us, is either part of the Contingent, to wit, that, which is presently in doing according to our Will. Thus have we in a manner declared, that the Possible in the Order of Nature precedes the Contingent, and that the Contingent subsists before That, which is in us; as also what each of them is, whence they are so named, and what are the Qualities, adjoined or appertaining to them.  
It now remains, that we treat of Fortune and Casual Adventure, and whatever else is to be considered with them. 'tis therefore certain, that Fortune is a Cause: Now of Causes there are some, which are Causes of themselves and by themselves, and others by Accident. Thus for Example, the proper Cause by itself of an House or of a Ship is the Art of the Mason, the Carpenter, or the Shipwright; but by Accident music, Geometry, and whatever else may happen to be joined with the Art of building Houses or Ships, in respect either of the Body, the Soul, or any exterior things. Whence it appears, that the Cause by itself must needs be determinate, certain, and one; but the Causes by Accident are never one and the same, but infinite and undetermined: for many, nay infinite, Accidents, wholly different one from the other, may be in one and the same Subject. This Cause therefore by Accident, when it is found in a thing, that is done for some End, and that is in our Free-Will and Election, is then called Fortune: as is the finding a Treasure, while one is digging a Ditch, or making an Hole to plant a three; or the doing or suffering some extraordinary thing, whilst one is flying, following, or otherwise walking, or only turning about, provided it be not for the sake of that, which happens, but for some other Intention. Hence it is, that some of the Ancients have declared Fortune to be a Cause unknown, and that cannot be foreseen by the Discourse of human Reason. But according to the Platonicks, who have approached yet nearer to the true Reason of it, 'tis thus defined: Fortune is a Cause by Accident in those things, which are done for some End, and which are in our Election: and afterwards they add, that 'tis unforeseen and unknown to the Discourse of human Reason: although that, which is rare and strange, appears also by the same means to be in this kind of Cause by Accident. But what this is, if 'tis not sufficiently evidenced by the Oppositions and Disputations made against it, will at least most clearly be seen by what is written in Platoes Phaedo, where you will find these words. P H. Have you not heard, how and in what manner the judgement passed? E H. Yes indeed: for there came one, and  told us of it: at which we wondered very much, that, the judgement having been given long before, he died a great while after. And what, o Phaedo, might be the Cause of it? P H. It was a Fortune, which happened to him, o Echecrates: for it chanced, that the Day before the judgement the Prow of the Galley, which the Athenians sand every year to the Isle of Delos, was crowned: In which Discourse it is to be observed, that the Expression, Which happened to him, is not simply to be understood by Which was done, or Which came to pass, but much rather by which befell thrô the Concurrence of many Causes together, one being done against another. For the Priest crowned the Ship, and adorned it with Garlands for another End and Intention, and not for the sake of Socrates; and the Judges also had for some other Cause condemned him. But the Event and Accident was very strange, and of such a Nature, that it might very well seem to have been effected by the Providence either of some human Creature, or rather indeed of some Superior Powers. And so much may suffice as to the Definition of Fortune, by which we have shown, that it must of necessity subsist with some one of those Contingent things, which are meant for some End: whence also it has its 
Being called {αβγδ}.  Name: and we have farther taught, that there must be first some Subject of such things, as are in Us and our Free-Will.  
But Chance or Casual Adventure is of a larger Extent than Fortune: which it comprehends, and also several other things, which may of their own Nature happen sometimes one way, sometimes another. And thus, as it appears by the Derivation of its Name, which is in Greek {αβγδ}, Chance is that, which happens instead of another, when that, which is ordinary, happens not, but another in its Place: such as could in the Dogdays seems to be; for it is sometimes then could, and not in vain nor** Once for all, as that, which is in us, and arbitrary, is a Part of Contingent, so Fortune is a part of Chance or casual Adventure, and both the two Events are conjoined and dependant on the one and the other, to wit, Chance on Contingent, and Fortune on That, which is in us, and arbitrary, and yet not on all, but on what is in our Election, as we have already said. Wherefore Chance is common to things inanimate, as well as to those, which are animated; whereas Fortune is proper to Man only, who has his Actions voluntary. And an Argument of this is, that to be fortunate and to be happy are thought to be one and the same thing: Now Happiness is a certain Well-doing, and Well-doing is proper only to Man, and to him perfect. These then are the things, which are comprised in Fate: to wit, Contingent, Possible, Election, That, which is in us, Fortune, Chance, and their Adjuncts, as are the things signified by these Words Perhaps and Peradventure: All which indeed are contained in Fate, yet none of them is fatal.  
It now remains, that we discourse of Divine Providence, and show, how it comprehends even Fate itself. The supreme therefore and first Providence is the Understanding, or, if you had rather, the Will of the first and sovereign God, doing good to every thing, that is in the World, by which all divine things have universally and throughout been most excellently and most wisely ordained and disposed. The second Providence is that of the second Gods, who go thrô the Heaven, by which temporal and mortal things are orderly and regularly generated, and which pertains to the Continuation and Preservation of every kind. The third may probably be called the Providence and Procuration of the Demons, which, being placed on the Earth, are the Guardians and Overseers of human Actions. This threefold Providence therefore being seen, of which the first and supreme is chiefly and principally so named, we shall not be afraid to say, although we may in this seem to contradict the Sentiments of some Philosophers, that all things are done by Fate and by Providence, but not also by Nature. But some are done according to Providence, and that different, these according to one, those according to another, and some according to Fate: and that Fate is altogether according to Providence; Providence in no wise according to Fate. But let this Discourse be understood of the first and Supreme Providence. Now that, which is done according to another, whatever it is, is always posterior to that, according to which it is done: As that, which is according to the Law, is after the Law, and that, which is according to Nature, after Nature: so that, which is according to Fate, is after Fate, and must consequently be more new and modern. Wherefore supreme Providence is the most ancient of all things, except him, whose Will or Understanding it is, to wit, the Sovereign Author, Maker, and Father of all things. Let us therefore, says Timaeus, discourse, for what cause the Creator made and framed this Machine of the Universe. He was good, and in him, that is good, there can never be imprinted or engendered any Envy against any thing. Being therefore wholly free from this, he desired, that all things should, as far as it is possible, resemble himself. He therefore, who admits this to have been chiefly the most principal and proper Original of the Generation and Creation of the World, as it has been delivered to us by wise Men, receives that, which is most right. For God, who desired that all things should be good, and nothing, as far as possibly might be, evil, taking thus all, that was visible, restless as it was, and moving rashly and confusedly, reduced it from Disorder to Order, esteeming the one to be altogether better than the other. For it neither was nor is convenient for him, who is in all perfection good, to make any thing that should not be very excellent and beautiful. This therefore, and all that 
for {αβγδ}. I red {αβγδ}  follows, even to his Disputation concerning human Souls, is to be understood of the first Providence, which in the Beginning constituted all things. Afterwards he speaks thus: Having framed the Universe, he ordained Souls equal in number to the Stars, and distributed to each of them one, and having set them, as it were in a Chariot, shew'd the Nature of the Universe, and appointed them the Laws of Fate, Who then will not believe, that by these Words he expressly and manifestly declares Fate to be, as it were, a Foundation and political Constitution of Laws, fitted for the Souls of Men. Of which he also afterwards renders the Cause.  
As for the second Providence, he thus in a manner signifies it, saying: Having prescribed them all these Laws, to the end that, if there should afterwards happen any fault, he might be exempt from being the Cause of any of their Malice, he dispersed some of them upon the Earth, some into the Moon, and some into the other Instruments of Time. And after this Dispersion he gave in charge to the young Gods the making of human Bodies, and the making up and adding, whatever was wanting and deficient in human Soul, and that, after they had perfected, whatever is adherent and consequent to this, they should rule and govern in the best manner, they possibly could, this mortal Creature, to the end it should not be the Cause of its own Evils. For by these Words, that he might be exempt from being the Cause of any of their Malice, he most clearly signifies the Cause of Fate: and the Order and Office of the young Gods manifests the second Providence: and it seems also in some sort to have touched a little upon the third, if he therefore established Laws and Ordinances, that he might be exempt from being the Cause of any of their Malice. For God, who is free from all Malice, has no need of Laws or Fate; but every one of these petty Gods, drawn by the Providence of him, who has engendered them, performs what belongs to his Office. Now that this is true, and agreeable to the Opinion of Plato, these Words of the Lawgiver, spoken by him in his Book of Laws, seem to me to give sufficient Testimony. If there were any Man so sufficient by Nature, or by divine Fortune so happily engendered and born, that he could comprehend this, he would have no need of Laws, to command him: For there is not any Law or Ordinance, more worthy and powerful than Knowledge; nor is it fit, that he, who is truly and really free by Nature, should be a Subject or Slave to any one, but he ought to command all. I therefore do for mine own part thus understand and interpret this Sentence of Plato: There being a threefold Providence; the first, as having engendered Fate, does in some sort comprehend it; the second, having been engendered with Fate, is with it totally comprehended and embraced by the first; the third, as having been engendered after Fate, is comprehended by it in the same manner as are That, which is in us, and Fortune, as we have already said. For they, whom the Assistance of a Daemons Power does aid, are those,( says Socrates, declaring to Theages, what is the inevitable Ordinance of Adrastea) whom you also mean: for they grew and come forward with speed. In which Words, what he says of a Daemons aiding some is to be ascribed to the third Providence; and the growing and coming forward with speed to Fate. In brief 'tis not obscure or doubtful, ●ut this also is a kind of Fate. And perhaps it may 〈◇〉 sound much more probable, that the second Providence is also comprehended under Fate; and indeed all things, that are done: since Fate, as a Substance, hus been rightly by us divided into three Parts. And the Discourse of the Chain comprehends the Revolutions of the Heavens in the Numbers and Rank of those things, which happen by Supposition: but concerning these things I will not much contend, to wit, whether they should be called happening by Supposition, or rather conjoined with Fate, the precedent Cause and Commander of Fate being also fatal. Our Opinion then, to speak compendiously, is such. But the contrary Sentiment does not only include all things in Fate, but affirms them all to be done by and according to Fate. Now all things accord to the Other, and that which accords to another, 'tis clear, that it is also the other. According to this Opinion then Contingent is said to be the first; and, That which is in us, the second; and the third Fortune and Chance, and whatever depends on them; Praise, Blame, and whatever depends on them, the fourth; the fifth and last of all may be said to be Prayers to the Gods, with their Services and Ceremonies.  
For the rest, as to those, which are called I lle and Harvest Arguments, and that, which is named Beside or against Destiny, they are indeed but vain Subtleties and captious Sophisms according to this Discourse. But according to the contrary Opinion, the first and principal Conclusion seems to be, that there is nothing done without a Cause, but that all things depend upon antecedent Causes: the second, that the World is governed by Nature, and that it conspires, consents, and is compatible with itself: the third seems rather to be Testimonies: of which the first is Divination, approved by all sorts of People, as being truly in God; the second is the Equanimity and Patience of wise Men, who take mildly, and bear patiently whatever befalls, as happening by divine Ordinance, and as it ought; the third is the Speech, so common and usual in every ones Mouth, to wit, that every Proposition is true or false. Thus have we contracted this Discourse into a small Number of short Articles, that we might in few words comprehend the whole Matter of Fate.** Into which a Scrutiny ought to be made, and the Reasons of both Opinions to be weighed with a most exact Balance; but we are now coming to discuss Particulars.*****  The Rest is wanting.  

Plutarch's Morals. Vol. V. Plutarch's  
Natural Questions.  Translated by R. Brown M. L. 
WHat is the reason, that Sea-water nourishes not Trees? Is it not for the same reason, that it nourishes not earthly Animals? For Plato, Anaxagoras, and Democritus think, Plants are earthly Animals. Nor, though Sea-water be aliment to marine Plants, as it is to Fishes, will it therefore nourish earthly Plants; since it can neither penetrate the Roots, because of its grossness, nor ascend, by reason of its weight: for this, among many other things, shows Sea-water to be heavy and terrene, because it more easily bears up Ships and Swimmers. Or is it, because drought is a great Enemy to Trees? And Sea-water is of a drying faculty; upon which account Salt resists putrefaction, and the Bodies of such as wash in the Sea, are presently dry and rough. Or is it, because oil is destructive to earthly Plants, and kills things anointed with it? But Sea-water participates of much fatness: for it burns together with it. Wherefore when Men would quench Fire, we forbid them to throw on Sea-water. Or is it because Sea-water is not fit to drink, and it is bitter( as Aristotle says) through a mixture of adust Earth? For a Lixivium is made by the falling of Ashes into Sweet-water, and the dissolution ejects and corrupts what was good and potable, as in us Men Fevers convert the Humors into boil. As for what Woods and Plants Men talk of growing in the Red-Sea, they bear no Fruit; but are nourished by Rivers, casting up much Mud: therefore they grow not at any great distance from Land, but very near to it.  
Why do Trees and Seeds thrive better with Rain than with watering? Whether is it because( as Laitus thinks) showers parting the Earth by the violence of their fall, make passages, whereby the Water may more easily penetrate to the Root? This cannot be true; but Laitus never considered, that Marsh-Plants, as Cats-tail, Pondweeds and Moss neither thrive nor sprout, when the reins fall not in their season. But it is true, what Aristotle said, Rain-water is new and fresh, that of Lakes old and exolete. And what if this be rather probable than true? For the Waters of Fountains and Rivers are ever fresh, new always arriving: Therefore Heraclitus said well, that no Man could go twice into the same River. And yet these very Waters nourish worse, than Rain-water. But Water from the Heavens is light and aërial, and being mixed with spirit, is the quicker passed and elevated into the Plant, by reason of its tenuity: for Pompholyx is made by mixture of Brass with the Air. That nourishes most, which is subacted by the thing nourished: for this very thing is Concoction. On the contrary Inconcoction is, when the Aliment is stronger than to be affencted by the thing nourished. Now, thin, simplo and i●sipid things are the most easily altered, of which number is Rain-water, bread in the Air and Wind, which falls pure and sincere. But Fountain-water being assimilated to the Earth and Places through which it passes, is filled with many qualities, which render it less nutritive, and slower in alteration to the thing nourished. Moreover, that Rain-water is easily alterable, this is an Argument; because it sooner putrefies than either Spring or River-water. For Concoction seems to be Putrefaction, as Empedocles says, In the Barrel putrefied Water becomes Wine. Or, which may most readily be assigned for a Reason, is it because Rain is sweet and mildred, when it is presently sent by the Wind? For this reason Cattle drink it most greedily, and Frogs in expectation of it raise their Voice, as if they were calling for Rain to sweeten the Marsh, and to be sauce to the Water in the Pools. For Aratus makes this a sign of approaching Rain.  
When wretched Frogs, to watery Snakes sweet Food,  
Their fathers Song do croak, and sing in Mud.  
Why do Herdsmen set Salt before cattle? Whether( as many think) to nourish them the more, and fatten them the better? For Salt by its acrimony sharpens the Appetite, and by opening the passages brings Meat more easily to digestion. Therefore Apollonius, Herophilus his Scholar, would not have lean Persons, and such as did not thrive, be fed with sweet things and Wheat, but ordered them to use Prickles and Salt things for their Food: whose tenuity serving instead of frication, might apply the aliment through the passages of the Body. Or is it for healths sake, th●t Men give Sheep Salt to lick, to cut off the redundance of nutriment? For when they are over fat, they grow sick, but Salt wasts and melts the Fat. And this they observe so well, that they can more easily flay them: For the Fat, which agglutinates and fastens the Skin, is made thin and weak by the acrimony. The Blood also of things that lick Salt, is attenuated: nor do things within the Body stick together, when Salts are mixed with them. Moreover consider this, whether the cattle grow more fruitful, and more inclined to coition: For Bitches do sooner conceive, when they are fed with Salt Victuals: And Ships which carry Salt, are more pestered with Mice, by reason of their frequent coition.  
Why is the Water of Showers, Which fall in Thunder and Lightning, fitter to Water Seeds? For they are therefore called Thunder-showers. Is it, because they contain much Spirit, by reason of their confusion and mixture with the Air? For the Spirit moving the humour, sends it more upwards. Or is it, because Heat fighting against could causes Thunder and Lightning? Whence it is, that it Thunders very little in Winter; but in Spring and Autumn very much, because of the inequality of temper, and the heat concocting the humour, renders it friendly and commodious for Plants. Or does it Thunder and Lighten most in the Spring for the foresaid cause, Seeds having great occasion for the Vernal Rain, before Summer? Therefore that Country which is best watered with Rain( as Sicily is) produces abundance of good Fruit.  
How comes it to pass, that since there be eight kinds of tastes, we find the Salt in no Fruit whatever? Indeed at first the Olive is bitter, and the Grape acid; one whereof afterward turns fat, and the other vinous. But the acerb in Dates and the austere in Pomegranates turns sweet: Some Pomegranates and other Fruit have only a simplo acid taste. The acrid is frequent in Roots and Seeds. Or is it, because no Salt taste is natural, but arises when the rest are corrupt? Therefore such Plants and Seeds as are nourished, receive no nourishment from Salt; it serves indeed some instead of sauce, while it abates superfluity. Or, as Men take away saltness and bitingness from the Sea-water by distilling, is saltness so abolished in hot things by heat? Or indeed is the taste( as Plato says) Water percolated through a Plant? And Sea-water percolated loses its saltness: For it is terrene and of gross Parts. Therefore People that dig near the Sea, happen upon Wells, fit to drink. Several also, that draw the Sea-water into waxed Buckeets, receive it sweet and potable, the Salt and earthy part being percolated. Besides, Rest, and a long Current makes Sea-water potable, when it contains in itself, and does not let go its earthy parts. And since things are so, it is very probable, either that Plants receive no Saltness extrinsically, or if they do, they put it not forth into Fruit; for things terrene and consisting of gross parts cannot pass, by reason of the straightness of the Passages. Or may saltness be reckoned a sort of bitterness? For so Homer says 
Out of his Mouth the bitter Brine did flow,  
And down his body from his head did go.  Plato also says, that both these tastes have an abstersive and colliquative faculty; but the Salt does it less, nor is it rough. And the bitter seems to differ from the Salt in abundance of heat: Since the Salt has also a drying quality.  
What is the reason, that if a Man frequently pass along dewy Trees, those Limbs that touch the Wood are seized with a Leprosy? Whether( as Laitus said) that by the tenuity of the due, the Moisture of the Skin is exhausted? Or as Smut and Mildew fall upon moistened Seeds, so when the green and tender Parts on the Superficies are eaten up and colliquated, a certain noxious taint is carried and imparted to the most bloodless Parts of the Body, and there eats and frets the Superficies? For that by nature there is a corrosive faculty in due, sufficiently appears, in that the drinking of it makes People lean: And gross Women gather it either with Linen or Woollen Clothes, to take down their Flesh.  
Why in Winter do Ships sail flower in Rivers; but do not so in the Sea? Whether, because the River Air, which is at all times heavy and slow, being in Winter more condensed by the could, does more resist Sailing? Or is it long of the Water rather than the Air? For the piercing could makes the Water heavy and thick, as one may perceive in an Hour-glass: For the Water passes more slowly in Winter than in Summer. Theophrastus talks of a Well about Pangaeum in Thrace, how that a Vessel filled with the Water of it weighs twice as much in Winter, as it does in Summer. Besides, hence it is apparent, that the grossness of the Water makes Ships Sail slower, because in Winter River-Vessels carry greater burdens: For the Water being made more dense and heavy, makes the more renitency. But the Heat hinders the Sea from being condensed.  
Why, since all other liquours, upon moving and stirring about, grow could, does the Sea by being tossed in Waves grow hot? Whether, that motion expels and dissipates the heat of other liquours as a thing ascititious, and the Winds do rather excite and increase the innate heat of the Sea. It's transparentness is an Argument of heat, and so is it's not being condensed, thô it is terrene and heavy.  
Why in Winter is the Sea least bitter to the taste? For they say; that Dionysius the Hydragogue reptored, that the bitterness of the Sea was not devoid of all sweetness, as receiving so many Rivers into it. But by reason the Sun exhales the sweet and potable Water thereof, arising to the top by reason of its levity, and that in Summer, more than in Winter, when it affects the Sea more weakly by reason of the debility of its heat: Then a great deal of sweetness is left, which tempers and mitigates its excessive, poisonous bitterness. And the same thing befalls potable Waters: For in Summer they are worse, the Sun wasting the lightest and sweetest part of them. And a fresh sweetness returns in Winter, of which the Sea must needs participate, since it moves, and is carried with the Rivers into the Sea.  
Why do Men pour Sea-water upon Wine? They say the Fisher-men had an Oracle given them, whereby they were bid to dip Bacchus in the Sea, they that live far from the Sea, cast in some Lacynthian Earth toasted. Whether, that heat is good against could? Or, that it quenches heat, by diluting the Wine and destroying its Strength? Or, that the aqueous and aerial part of Wine( which is therefore prove to mutation) is stayed by the throwing in of terrene Parts, whose nature it is to constipate and condense? Moreover, Salts with the Sea-water atenuating and colliquating whatever is Foreign and superfluous, suffer no fetidness or putrefaction to breed. Besides, the gross and terrene Parts being entangled with the heavy, and sinking together, make a Sediment or Lee, and so make the Wine fine.  
Why are they sicker that sail on the Sea, than they that sail in Fresh Rivers, even in Calm Weather? Of all the Senses, Smelling causes nauseousness the most, and of all the passions of the Mind, Fear. For Men tremble, and shake, and bewray themselves upon apprehension of great danger. They that Sail in a River are troubled with neither of these. And the smell of sweet and potable Water is familiar to all, and the Voyage is without danger. On the Sea an unusual smell is troublesome; and Men are afraid, not knowing what the issue may be. Therefore tranquillity abroad avails not, while an aestuating and disturbed Mind disorders the Body.  
Why does pouring oil on the Sea make it clear and calm? Is it, for that the Winds slipping the smooth oil, have no force, nor cause any Waves? This may be probably said in respect of things external; but they say, that Divers take oil in their Mouths, and when they spout it out they have light at the bottom, and it makes the Water transparent, so that the slipping of the Winds will not hold good here for an Argument. Therefore it is to be considered, whether the Sea, which is terrene and uneven, is not compact and made smooth by the dense oil: And so the Sea being compact in itself, leaves passages and a pellucidity penetrable by the sight. Or whether that the Air, which is naturally mixed with the Sea, is lucid, but by being troubled grows unequal and shady: And so by the oil's density smoothing its inequality, the Sea recovers its evenness and pellucidity.  
Why do Fisher-mens Nets rot more in Winter than in Summer, since other things rot more in Summer? Is not that the cause, which Theophrastus assigns: That heat( to wit) shuns the could, and is constrained by it on every side: Hence the Waters are hottest in the bottom of the Sea? And so it is on Land: For Springs are hotter in Winter, and then Lakes and Rivers sand up most vapours; because the heat is compelled to the bottom by the prevailing could. Or it may be, Nets do not rot at that time more then at another. For being frozen and dried in the could, since they are therefore the more easily broken by the Waves, they are liable to something like putrefaction and rottenness. And they suffer most in the could( as strained Nerves are aprest to break in such a Season) because than there be most frequent Storms at Sea. Therefore Fisher-men guard their Nets with certain Tinctures, for fear they should break. Otherwise a Net neither tinged nor daubed with any thing might more easily deceive the Fish; since Line is of an Air-color, and is is not easily discerned in the Sea.  
Why have the Doriens bad making of their Hay? Is it, because Hay rained upon is never well made? For the Grass is cut down green and not dry, wherefore it putrefies, when wet with Rain-water. But when before Harvest it reins upon Corn, this is a help to it against the hot South-Winds, which otherwise would not let the grain fill in the Ear; but by their heat would hinder and destroy all coalition, unless by watering the Earth there come a moisture, to cool and moisten the Ear.  
Why is a fat and deep soil Fruitful of Wheat, and a lean of Barley? Is it because a stronger Grain needs more nourishment, and a weaker a light and thin one? Now barley is weaker and laxer than Wheat, therefore it affords but little nourishment. And, as a further Testimony to this reason, Wheat that is ripe in three Months, grows in drier ground; because it is juyceless, and stands in need of less nourishment, and therefore is more easily brought to perfection.  
Why do Men say, Sow Wheat in Dirt, and barley in Dust? Is the reason( as we said) because Wheat takes up more nourishment; And barley cannot bear so much, but is choked with it? Or does Wheat, because it is hard and lignous, thrive better, when it is softened and loosened in a moist soil, and barley at the first: in a dry, because of its rarity? Or is the one temperament congruous and harmless to Wheat, because it is hot: And the other to barley, because it is could? Or are Men afraid to Sow Wheat in a dry Soil, because of the Ants, which presently lie in wait for it; but they cannot so easily deal with barley, nor carry it away, because it is a larger grain?  
Why do Men use the Hairs of Horses rather than Mares for Fishing-lines. Is it, that the Males are stronger in these Parts, as well as in others, then the Females? Or is it, that the Females spoil the Hair of their Tails by bepissing them.  
Why is the sight of the Cuttle-fish a sign of a great Storm? Is it, because all Fishes of the soft kind cannot endure could, by reason of their nakedness and tenderness? For they are covered neither with Shell, Skin nor scale,( thô within they have hard and bony Parts.) Hence the Greeks call them {αβγδ}, i. e. Soft Fish. Therefore they easily perceive a Storm coming, since they are so soon affencted by the could. When the Polypus gets to Shore, and embraces the Rocks, it is a sign the Wind is rising; but the Cuttle-Fish jumps up, to shun the could and the trouble in the bottom of the Sea: For of all soft Fishes she is the tenderest and soonest hurt.  
Why does the Polypus change colour? Whether, as Theophrastus writes, because it is an Animal by nature timorous, and therefore being disturbed it changes colour with the Wind as some Men do( of whom it is said, an ill Man ever changes colour.) But though this may serve as a reason for changing its colour, it will not for the imitation of Colours. For the Polypus does so change its colour, that it is of the colour of every ston it comes nigh: hence that of Pindar, Mind the colour of the Marine Beast and so converse cunningly in all Cities.  
And that of Theognis; 
With th' Polypus in manners be all one,  
Who, where he lies, is like to every ston.  And they say that such as are excellent at Craftiness and juggling, have this in their Eye( that they may the better cheat them they have to do withal) ever to imitate the Polypus. Some think the Polypus can use her Skin as a Garment, and can put it on or off at pleasure. But if fear occasion this change in the Polypus, is not some thing else more properly the cause? Let us consider what Empedocles say, that Effluvia proceed from all things what ever. For not only Animals, Plants, the Earth and Sea, but Stones and even Brass and Iron do continually sand out many Effluvia. For all things corrupt and smell, because there are always Effluvia. Drawing along or falling occasions Effluvia. Some suppose Embraces, others blows, some Impulses, others Circuitions. But especially about the Sea Rocks, when they are wet and cooled with the Waves: for some are of opinion, that constantly some small particles are washed off, which do not incorporate with other bodies, but either pass by the smaller passages, or pass through the larger. Now the flesh of the Polypus, as one may judge by the Eye, is hollow, full of Pores and capable of Effluvia. When therefore she is afraid, by changing breath, she changes her self, and by straitning and contracting her Body she encloses the neighbouring Effluvia. And, as a good Token of this Argument, the Polypus cannot imitate the colour of every thing he comes near, nor the chameleon any thing that is white: But each of these Creatures is assimilated only to such things, as to whose Effluvia they have Pores proportionable.  
What is the reason, that the Tears of Wild-Boars are sweet, and the Tears oF the Hart salt and hurtful? The reason seems to be the Heat and could of these Animals: for the Hart is could, and the Boar is very hot and fiery; therefore he flies from, and this defends himself against his pursuers: for when great store of heat comes to the Eyes,( as Homer says, With horrid Bristles, and Eyes darting fire) Tears are sweet. Some are of Empedocles his opinion, who thought that Tears proceed from the disturbance of the Blond as Serum does from the Churning of Milk: since therefore Boar's blood is harsh and black, and Hart's blood thin and watery; it is consentaneous, that the Tears should be such, as the one sheds excited to anger, and the other dejected with fear.  
Why do tame Sows farrow often, some at one time and others at another, and the Wild but once a year, and all of them about the same time, whence it is said, The Wild Sow farrowing, that night falls no rain? Is it because through plentiful feeding tame Sows breme oftener? For abundance of nourishment breeds abundance of Seed both in Animals and Plants. Now wild Sows live by their own travail, and that with fear: the tame have always Food enough either by nature, or given them. Or may it not be ascribed to their rest and exercise? For the tame do rest, and go not far from their Keepers, the wild get to the Mountains and run about; by which means they waste the nutriment, and consume it upon the whole Body. Therefore either through continual converse, or abundance of Seed, or because the Females feed in Herds with the Males, the tame Sows, call to mind coition and stir up lust, as Empedocles talks of Men. But in Wild Sows, which feed apart, Desire is could and dull, for want of love and conversation. Or is it true, what Aristotle says, that Homer Called the Wild Boar {αβγδ}, because he had but one ston? For most Boars Spoil their Stones, by rubbing them against Stumps of Trees.  
Why are the Paws of Bears the sweetest and pleasantest in Food? Because what Parts of the Body do concoct aliment the best, the Flesh of those Parts is sweetest. And that concocts best, which transpires most by motion and exercise. But the Bear uses the forefeet most in going and running, and managing of things, as it were with hands.  
Why are the steps of Wild Beasts most difficultly traced in Spring time? Whether the Dogs as Empedocles says, with Noses find the steps of all Wild Beasts, while they draw in those Effluvia, which the Beasts leave in the Ground, and the various smells of Plants and Flowers lying over the Foot-steps, do in Spring time obscure and confounded them, and put the Dogs to a loss at winding them? Therefore about Aetna in Sicily no Man rears any hunting Dogs; because abundance of wild Marjoram flourishes and grows there the Year round, and the perpetual fragrancy of the place destroys the scent of the wild Beasts. There is also a Tale, how proserpina, as she was gathering Flowers thereabout, was ravished by Pluto, therefore People revering that place as an Asylum, do not catch any Creature that feeds thereabout.  
Why are the tracks of wild Beasts worst scented about the Full-moon? Whether for the foresaid cause? For the Full-moons bring down the Dews. Therefore Alcman calls due the Daughter of Jove and Luna in a Verse of his, Fed by the due, bread by the Moon and Jove. For due is a weak and languid Rain, and there is a little heat in the Moon, which draws from the Earth, as the Sun does: but because it cannot raise it on high, it soon lets it fall.  
Why does Frost make Hunting difficult? Whether is it, because the wild Beasts leave off going far abroad by reason of the could, and so leave but few signs of them? Therefore some say, wild Beasts spare the neighbouring places, that they may not be sore put to it by going far abroad in Winter; but may always have Food ready at hand. Or is it because that for Hunting the tract alone is not sufficient, but there must be scent also? And things gently dissolved and loosened by heat, afford a smell; but too violent could binds up the scent and will not let it reach the sense. Therefore they say, that Unguents and Wine smell least in Winter and could weather: For the then concrete Air keeps the scent in, and suffers it not to disperse.  
What is the reason, that Brutes, when they all any thing, seek and pursue remedies, and are often cured by the use of them? Dogs eat Grass, to make them vomit: Swine seek Crey-fish, because the eating of them cures the headache: The Tortoise, when he has eaten a Viper, feeds on wild Marjoram: They say, when a Bear has surfeited himself, and his Stomach grows nauseous, he licks up Ants, and by devouring them he is cured. These Creatures know such things neither by experience nor by chance. Whether therefore, as Wax draws the Bee, and carcases the Vulture afar off by the scent; do Crey-fish so draw Swine, wild Marjoram the Tortoise, and Ants the Bear, by smells and effluvia accommodate to their nature, they being prompted altogether by Sense, without any assistance from Reason? Or do not the Temperaments of Bodies create Appetites in Animals, which sometimes create Diseases, producing divers acrimonies, sweetnesses, and other unusual and absurd qualities, the humors being altered; as is plain in Women with Child, who eat Stones and Earth? therefore skilful Physicians take their prognostic of recovery or death from the Appetites of the Sick: For Mnasitheus the Physician says, that in the beginning of a Disease of the Lungs, he that craves onions, recovers; and he that craves Figs, dies: because Appetites follow the Temperament, and the Temperament follows Diseases. It is therefore probable, that Beasts, which fall not into mortal Diseases, have such a disposition and temper, that by following their temper they light on their remedies.  
Why does Must, if the Vessel stand in the could, continue long sweet? Is it because Concoction is the changing of that which is sweet into Wine? But could hinders Concoction, because it is caused by Heat. Or on the contrary, the proper taste of the Grape is sweet, and then it is said to be ripe, when the sweetness is equally diffused all over it: But could, not suffering the Heat of the Grape to exhale, and keeping it in, conserveth the sweeness of the Grape. And this is the reason, that in a rainy Vintage, Must ferments but little: for fermentation proceeds from Heat, which the could does check.  
Why, of all wild Beasts, does not the Boar bite the Toil? Is it, because his Teeth stand so far within his Head, that he cannot well come at the Thread? For his Lips, by reason of their thickness and largeness meet close before. Or does he rather rely on his strength, and so rents the toils with his Feet? Or does he both use his Feet and Mouth at the same time, with them tearing the Toil, and with this defending himself against the Hunters? His chief refuge is rolling and wallowing, therefore rather than stand gnawing the toil, he rowls often about, and so clears himself, having no occasion for his Teeth.  
What is the reason, that we admire hot Waters( i.e. baths) and not could, since it is plain, that could is as much the cause of one sort, as Heat is of the other? It is not( as some are of Opinion) that Heat is a Quality, and could only a privation of that Quality, and so that an Entity is a Cause, but a Non-entity no Cause. But we do it, because Nature has attributed Admiration to what is rare, and she puts Men upon enquiry how any thing comes to pass, that seldom happens. You see the high and vast Sky, which with a gentle turn encompasses the Earth, how many Spectacles it astords by Night, and what Beauty by Day; the Rain-bow, the pleasant Pictures of the Clouds, and the darting of Lightning are all matter of ornament to it and of admiration to us.  
Why are rank Vines fruitless, and fat Goats less apt to procreate, nay scarce able to use Coition, by reason of their fatness? Seed is the Superfluity of the Aliment, which is allotted to the Body: now, when either an Animal or a Plant is of a very strong Constitution and grows fat, it is a sign, that all the Nourishment is spent within, and that there is little or no Excrement; and so the thing is left barren.  
Why does the Vine irrigated with Wine dy, especially since Wine comes from the Vine; Is it as baldness happens to great Wine-bibbers, the heat of the Wine evaporating the moisture? It may be when the Vine is outwardly irrigated with Wine, it is as Fire to the Vine, and destroys the nutritive faculty. Or because Wine is obstructive, it gets into the Roots, stops the passages, and so hinders any moisture from coming to the Plant, to make it grow and thrive. Or, it may seem contrary to nature, that that should return into the vine which came out of it: For whatsoever moisture comes from Plants, it can neither nourish nor assimilate, nor be a part of a Plant.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Concerning the first Principle of could.  Translated out of the Greek by F. Fetherston, D. D. 
IS there then, Phavorinus any First or Principal Power or Existence of could, as Fire is the Principle of Heat, by the presence and imparting of which all other Things of the same Nature become could? Or rather is not could, the Privation of Heat, as they say, Darkness is the Privation of Light, and Rest the Privation of Motion? In regard that could seems to be firm and stable, and Heat always in Motion; and for that the Refrigeration of hot things is not caused by the Presence of any active Power, but by the Departure of the Heat. For we find the Heat go off in great quantity, and then that which remains grows could. Thus the vapour which boiling Water sends forth, ceases also when the Heat is gone. Therefore Refrigeration expelling the Heat, diminishes the Quantity, while nothing supplies the Place of it. Or what if any Person should question this way of Arguing, as being that which would abolish several manifest Faculties, as being neither Qualities nor Habits, but the Privations of Habits and Qualities? So to make Ponderosity the Privation of Levity; Hardness the Privation of Softness; Black, of White, Bitter of Sweetness? Or else for this Reason, because all Privation is a thing altogether sluggish and without Action, as Blindness, Deafness, Silence, and Death: for they are the Departures of Forms, and the utter Defacings of Substances, not Natures, neither Substances of themselves. But could, wherever it resides, causes no less Passiveness and Alteration in Bodies than Heat. For many things are congealed by could, many things thereby condensed. So that whatever is solid in it, and difficult to be moved, cannot be said to be sluggish and voided of Action, but firm and ponderous, as being supported by its own Strength, which is endued with a Power to preserve it in its proper Station. Wherefore Privation is the Deficiency and Departure of the opposite Power, but many things are subject to be could, though abounding with Heat within themselves. And there are some things which could the more condenses, and consolidates the Hotter they are, as Iron quenched in Water. The stoics also affirm, that the Spirit which is in the Bodies of Infants, is quickened by Refrigeration, and changing the Nature of it, turns to a Soul. But this is a thing much to be disputed. Neither is it rational to believe, that could, which is the productive Agent in many other Things, can be a Privation: besides, that no Privation is capable of more and less. Neither can any Man say, among those that cannot see, that one is more blind then another; or among those that cannot speak, that one is more silent then another; or that any thing is more dead then another, among those things that never had Life. But in could things, there is Excess and Diminution to several degrees: little, and not very little, and in a Word, there is both Intense and Remiss, as well as in hot things. Now then, because the Matter suffers in some things more violently, in others more languidly, therefore some things are hotter, somethings colder than others, according to the Nature of the Matter: for there is no Mixture of Habit with Privation. Neither does any Power admit of Privation opposite to it, nor associates with it in the same Subject, but withstands it altogether. Some things also continue hot till they come to be mixed with could things, as Black with White, Heavy with Light, and sour with Sweet; by this Community and Harmony of Colours, Sounds, Medicaments and sauces, affording several Tastes and Pleasures grateful to the Sences. But the Opposition of Privation and Habit, is an Antipathy never to be reconciled; the Being of the one enforcing the Destruction of the other. Which Destruction, if it fall out seasonably, according to the Opposition of contrary Powers, many Arts make use of, but chiefly Nature, and that too, among other Occasions, in the Alterations of the Air, and in all other things, of which the Deity being the Adorner and Dispenser, obtains the Attribute of Harmonical and Musical: not that those Attributes are given him for the Disposal of Deep and Shrill, Black, and White, so as to make them agree together; but for his governing in the World the Sympathies and Antipathies of could and Heat in such a manner as to unite, and separate again, and for reducing both to a decent Order, by taking that which we call the Overmuch from both. Then again, we find that there is the same sense and Feeling of could as of Heat. On the other side, Privation is neither to be seen, heard, or felt, neither is it known to any of the other Sences. For the Object of sense is Substance: but where no Substance appears, there we understand Privation to be. Which is a Negation of Substance, as Blindness of Sight; Silence, of Voice, and Vacuity, of Corporeal Substance. For there is no sense or Perception of Vacuity by Feeling; but where there is no Body to be felt, there a Vacuity is implied: neither do we hear Silence; but where we do not hear any thing at all, there we imply Silence. Therefore if could were a Privation of Hot, there would be no being sensible of could, but only where Hot ceased to be, there could would be implied. But in regard that as Heat is perceptible by the Heat and laxative Softness of the Flesh, so could is no less perceptible by the Contraction and Condensation of it; it is from thence apparent, that there is some peculiar Original and Fountain of could, as well as Hot, consequently the Privation of both Kinds is something single, and simply particular; but in Substances there are several Differences and Efficacies. For Silence is a thing but of one sort; but of Sounds there are great Variety, sometimes molesting, sometimes delightful to the sense. There are also the same Differences in Colours and Figures, which vary as they occur to the Sences. But that which is not to be felt, is without Colour and voided of Quality, can never be distinguished, but is like itself. Is could therefore to be numbered among those Privations that never act upon passive Qualities? Rather the contrary, in regard that Pleasures very great and beneficial to our Bodies, arise from could things, as no less terrible Mischiefs, Pains and Stupefactions on the other side; which the Heat does not always avoid and give way to, but many times enclosed within the Body, withstands and opposes. Which Contention of theirs is called Quivering and Shaking, at what time, if the could overcome the Heat, thence proceeds profaneness and Stiffness of the Limbs: but if the could be vanquished by the Heat, there follows a pleasing warmth and opening of the Skin, which Homer expresses by the Word {αβγδ}, in Latin Calefacere, whence Calefaction or gentle Heating. These things are past dispute, and chiefly by these passive Qualities it is, that we find could to be opposite to Heat, as Substance to Substance, or passive Quality to passive Quality, not as Negation or Privation: neither is it the Destruction or Abolishing of Hot, but a Kind of Nature and Power tending to its Destruction. Otherwise we should exempt the Winter out of the Seasons, and the North Winds out of the Number of the Winds, as being Privations of the warmer Seasons, and the Southern Gales not having any proper Original. Now in regard there are four first Bodies in the Universe, which by reason of their Number, their being uncompounded, and their Efficacy are allowed for the most part to be the Principles and Beginnings of all other, that is to say, Fire and Water, Air and Earth; is there not the same Necessity that there should be as many first and uncompounded qualities? And what are they but Heat and could, Drought and Moisture, by virtue of which it comes to pass that all the Principles act and suffer? Thus, as there are in Grammar Abbreviations and Extensions of Rudiments; In music, deep and acute Sounds, tho not one of them the Privation of the other, we must leave the dry opposed to the moist Principles, and the Hot to the Moist; if we intend to have the Effects answerable to Reason and what is visible in Nature. Unless, as it was the Opinion of the ancient Anaximenes, we will not allow either could or Hot to be in Substance, but only to be common passive Qualities accompanying the Alterations of the Matter. For he affirms the Contraction and Condensation of the Matter to be could: but the Rarification and Laxation of it( for by that Word he calls it) to be Hot. Whence it may not be improperly said, that a Man breaths Hot and could at once. For the Breath grows could being compressed and thicken'd by the Lips; but coming out of the open Mouth, it is hot, as being rarify'd by that Emission. But for this Aristotle convinces the s●me Person of Ignorance: for that when we blow with the Mouth open, we blow hot from our own Bodies; but when we blow could, we do not breath forth the Air From ourselves, but the Air that is before our Mouths is thrust forward, and lights upon what is next it.  
But if we must grant that both Heat and could are Substances, let us proceed a little farther in our Discourse, and inquire what sort of Substances they are, and what is the first Principle and Nature of them.  
They then who affirming that there are certain Triangular Figures of equal sides in our Body, tell us also that Shuddering, Trembling and Quivering, and whatever else we suffer of the same Nature, proceed from the Roughness of those Figures, who if they mistake in the Parts, nevertheless derive the Beginning from whence they ought. For we ought to begin the Question, as from Vesta, from the Substance of all things. By which it chiefly appears, wherein a Philosopher differs from a Physician, a Husband man, or a Piper. For it is sufficient for them to contemplate the remote Causes. For if their nearest Consideration of the Cause of the Affection go no farther, then to find, that the Cause of a Fever is crossness of Heat, or the lighting of some humour where it ought not to be; that the Cause of Blasting is the scorching Heat of the Sun after Rain; and that the Cause why a Pipe falls, is the Contraction of the Pores of the Wood; it is enough for the Artist to know in reference to his Business. But when a Philosopher for Contemplations Sake, scrutinizes into the Truth, the Knowledge of remote Causes is not the End, but the Beginning of his Proceeding in search of the first and ultimate Causes. Wherefore Ploto and Democritus inquiring after the Cause of Heat and Gravity, did not stop at the Consideration of Earth and Fire, but bringing things perceptible to sense, to Beginnings only intelligible by the Mind, they went on even h● the smallest, as it were Seeds of what they sought for. But it is much the better way for us in the first place to move forward upon those things which are perceptible to sense, wherein Empedocles, Strato, and the stoics placed the Substances of active Qualities. The stoics ascribing Primitive could to the Air, Empedocles and Strato to the Water; and perhaps there might be some Body else who might affirm the Earth to be the Substance of could. But first let us consider the Opinions of those already named.  
Seeing then that Fire is both hot and bright, therefore there must be something opposite to Fire which is could and Dark: for as Dark is opposite to Light, so is could to Hot: besides, that as Dark confounds the Sight, so could confounds the Feeling. But Heat diffuses the sense of Feeling, as Light diffuses the sense of Seeing. Therefore that which is first dark in Nature, is first could. Now that the Air is first dark, was not unknown to the Poets: for that they call the Air Darkness.  
The thicken'd Air the Fleet with Darkness covered,  
Nor could the moon-light be from heaven discovered.  
And again, 
Then Darkness scattered and the Fog dispelled,  
The Sun broke forth, and all, the Fight beholded.  They also call the Air, when it is without Light Cnephas, Darkness or Twi-light, as being as it were {αβγδ}, voided or empty of Light. The Words also {αβγδ} and {αβγδ}, the one signifying a Fog, and the other a Mist, and whatever else restrains the Perception of Light from the sense, are but Distinctions of the Air; insomuch that the same part of it which is invisible, and without Colour, is called Hades and Acheron. So that as the Air grows dark when the splendour of it fails, in like manner, when Heat fails, that which is left is no more then could Air, which by reason of its Coldness is called tartarous. And this Hesiod makes manifest, when he calls it {αβγδ}, or airy tartarous; and when a Man quakes and shivers for could, he is said to Tartarize. And so much for this.  
But in regard Corruption is the Alteration of those things that are corrupted into that which is contrary to every one of them, let us consider whether it be a true Saying, The Death of Fire is the Generation of Air: For Fire dyes like a living Creature, being quenched by force, or going out of its own accord. Now Quenching makes the Alteration of it into Air more conspicuous: for smoke is a sort of Air, or according to Pindar, a fuliginous vapour of the Air, in opposition to smoke, otherwise called Steam or Exhalation. On the other side, when Fire goes out for want of Fuel, as in Candles, you shall observe a thick and cloudy Air ascending from the Top of them. Moreover, the vapour steaming from our Bodies, upon the pouring of could Water after hot Bathing, or sweeting, sufficiently declares the Alteration of extinguished Heat into Air, as being naturally opposite to Air; whence it follows, that the Air was at first dark and could. Then again, Congelation, which is the most forcible and violent of all things that befall our Bodies, by reason of could, is the Passiveness of Water, but the Action of Air. For Water of itself is easily diffused, loose in its Parts, and not readily congealed together; but it is thicken'd and compressed by the Air, by reason of the Coldness of it. Which is the Reason of the Proverb, 
But if the Southern Wind provoke the North,  
Snow streight will cover all the Earth.  For the Southern Wind preparing the Moisture for Matter, presently the North Wind receives and congeals it. And this is manifest from the Consideration of Snow, which' ere it falls, you shall observe a thin and sharp could Air breathing before it. Aristotle also tells us, that Whetstones of led, will melt and run in the Winter through excess of Freezing could, merely upon the setting of the Water near them: for 'tis probable that the Air compresses and gripes the Bodies so close together, that at length it breaks and crumbles them in pieces. And therefore Water drawn from a Fountain soonest congeals: for the More of could in the Air overcomes the Less of could in the Water. Thus if a Man takes could Water out of a Well, and puts it into a Vessel, and then lets the Vessel down again into the Well, so that it may not touch the Water, but hang for some time in the Air, the Water will be much colder. Whence it is apparent, that the Coldness of the Water, is not the first Cause of Coldness, but the Coldness of the Air. For you do not find that any of your great Rivers are ever thoroughly frozen, by reason of their Depth. For the Air does not pierce through the Whole, only so much as it can seize and embrace with its could Quality, so much generally freezes and no more. Therefore the Barbarians never across over frozen Rivers, till they have sent a Fox before to try the Depth of the Ice. For if the Ice be not very thick, but only superficial, the Fox perceiving it by the Noise of the Water flowing underneath, returns. And some there are that melt the Ice with hot Water, to make way for their Lines, when they go to catch Fish in Winter. So that nothing suffers from could in the Depth of the Water. Nevertheless, so great has been the Alteration of the upper Parts of the Water by Congelation, that several Vessels riding in the Stream, have been bruised and broken by the forcible Compressure and gripping of the Congelation; as we have heard from them who lately had their Winter Quarters with Caesar upon the Danaw.  
And indeed what happens to ourselves is sufficient to demonstrate the Truth of this. For after hot Bathings and Sweatings we are most sensible of could, at what time our Bodies being open, and the Skin relax'd, we give a freer Entrance to the could, together with the Ambient Air. And after the very same manner the Water itself suffers. For it sooner freezes if it be first heated, as being thereby rendered more easy for the Air to work upon. And therefore they who lad out fcalding Water, and let it fall again from a good height in the Air, do it to no other purpose then to mix it with a great deal of Air. And therefore Favorinus, the Arguments that attribute the first Power of could to the Air are grounded upon these Probabilities: those that allow it to Water, lean upon Principles of the same Nature. And this was intimated by Empedocles, where he says, 
Behold the Sun, how warm he is,  
And brightly shining every where;  
But Rain and Tempests Black and Dark  
With Horror fill the Air.  And thus opposing Heat to could, and Dark to Bright, he gives us to understand, that Black and could are both of the same Substance, as also are Bright and Hot. Now that Black is proper to the Water and not to the Air, sense itself bears witness: Nothing being darkened by the Air, all things being clouded and blacken'd by Water. So that if you throw the whitest wool that is, or a white Garment into the Water, it comes out black, and so remains, till the Moisture be dried up again by the Heat, or that it be squeezed forth by Presses or Weights. Also when the ground is watered, the Places that receive the Drops grow black, the rest retaining their former Colour. And therefore the deepest Waters, by reason of their Quantity always appear blackest, but the Parts, which are next the Air, afford a lovely and smiling Brightness. But of all Liquids, oil is the most transparent, because of the great Quantity of Air that is in it. And of this, the Lightness of it is an unquestionable Proof; the reason why it swims above all things, as carried upward by the Air. Being poured forth upon the Waves it will cause Calmness upon the Sea, not because it is so slippery that the Winds can have no Power over it, as Aristotle thought, but because the Waves will fall and sink when smitten by any moist Body. And this is also peculiar to oil, that it shines and shows itself transparent at the Bottom of the Water, while the watery Humors are dispiers'd by the Air. For being spurted out of the Mouth into the Sea, not only by those that take sponges in the Night upon the Superficies of the Water, but also by those that dive for them to the bottom of the Sea, it will cast a Light in the Water. Water therefore has more of Blackness then the Air, but less of could. oil therefore partaking more of Air, then most liquid things, is least could, nor will it easily or suddenly frieze: for the Air which is mixed with it will not suffer the Congelation to grow hard. And therefore, as for Needles, Steel Buckles, and such sort of small Iron and Steel wears, they never quench them in Water but in oil, fearing least the Over-coldness of the Water should make them too brittle. And indeed the Truth is more truly enquired into from the Consideration of these Experiments, then those of Colours. For hail, Snow and Ice, as they are most transparent, so they are most could; and Pitch, as it is hotter, so it is blacker and darker then Honey. Which makes me admire at those who affirm the Air to be could, because it is dark and obscure, unless it be because they find others affirming it to be hot, because it is light. For Dark is not so proper and familiar to could, as Heavy and Stable. For many things that are voided of Heat, partake of splendour and Light, but there is nothing could that is light, nimble or apt to ascend upward. Even the Clouds themselves while they preserve the Nature of Air, tower a loft in the Sky; but changing into moisture they presently fall down and having admitted coldness, they loose their lightness as well as their heat. And so on the other side, having regained their heat, they again return to Motion, their Substance being carried upward, as soon as it is changed into Air.  
Neither is the Argument produced from Corruption true. For nothing that perishes is corrupted into what is opposite, but by what is opposite to it: as Fire extinguished by Water changes into Air. And therefore Eschylus spake not so much like a Tragoedian, as a Philosopher when he said, The Water kerb, that Punishment of Fire. In like manner Homer opposed in Battle Vulcan to the River, and Apollo to Neptune more like a Philosopher then a Poet or Mythologist. And Archilochus spoken not amiss of a Woman whose Thoughts were contrary to her Words, when he said, 
She, weaving subtle Trains and sly Fegaries,  
Fire in one hand, in th' other Water carry's.  Among the Persians there were several Customs of Supplication of which the chiefest, and that which would admit of no Refusal was, when the Suppliant taking fire in his hand, and entering into a River, threatened if his Supplication were denied, to throw the Fire into the Water. But tho his suite were granted him, yet he was punished for threatening, as being against the Law, and contrary Nature. And this is a Vulgar Proverb in every bodies Mouth, to mix fire with water, spoken of those that would attempt Impossibilities: to show that Water is an Enemy to Fire, and being extinguished thereby, is destroyed and punished by it; not by the Air, which upon the change and destruction of it receives and entertains the substance of it. For if that into which the thing destroyed be contrary to it, much more does Fire seem contrary to Air then Water. For Air changes into Water by Condensation: but into Fire, by dissipation: as on the other side Water is destroyed into Air by separation; into Earth, by Condensation. Which in my Opinion happens by reason of the Propriety and near Affinity between both, not from any thing of Contrariety and Hostility one to another. Others there are that which way soever they maintain it, spoil the Argument. For it is most irrational to say that Water is congealed by the Air, when they never saw the Air congealed in their Lives. For Clouds, Fogs and Mists are no Congelations, but Thicknings and Condensations of the Air, moist and full of vapours: but a dry Air voided of moisture never undergoes refrigeration to such a change. For there are some Mountains that never admit of a Cloud, nor due, nor Mist, their tops being so high, as to reach into an Air that is pure and voided of moisture. Whence it is manifest, that it is the Condensation and Consistency below which contribute that could and moisture to the Air, which is mixed with it.  
Now that great Rivers never frieze downward is but consentaneous to reason. For those Parts which are frozen above transmit no Exhalation outward: for that being penned up within, and forced downward, it affords heat to the moisture at the bottom. A clear demonstration of which is this, that when the Ice is dissolved you may observe a steam arising out of the Water upwards in a very great quantity. And therefore the Bodies of living Creatures are warmest within▪ in the Winter, for that the heat is driven inward by the ambient could. Now those upward exhalations and ascensions of the vapours, not only deprive the Waters of their heat but of their coolness: and therefore they that vehemently desire their drink to be could, never move the Snow nor the moisture that is pressed out of it: for Motion would deprive them both of the virtue which is required from them.  
Now that this virtue is not the virtue of Air but of Water, a Man may hence collect by reasoning. First it is not probable that the Air which is next the Sky, and touching the fiery Substance is also touched by it, should be endued with a contrary virtue: for otherwise it is not possible that the Extremities of the one should touch and be contiguous to the extremities of the other. Nor is it agreeable to reason that Nature should constitute that which is corrupted next in order to that which corrupts, as if she were not the Author of Community and Harmony, but of Combat and Contention. For she does not make use of things not pure and without mixture, nor of things dissimilar, but such as have alternately a certain Disposition and Order not to advance Privation, but apt to communicate and co-operate one with another by ordained means. And this is the nature of the Air being expanded under the Fire above the Water, contingent and adhering to both, neither hot in itself nor could, but containing an intermixture and communion of hot and could, harmlessly intermixed in her self, and lightly cherishing the contrary Extremities. Therefore the Air is of an equal temper in all places; but Winter is not in all Places alike, nor equally could, but some parts of the habitable World are could and moist, others hot and dry; not by chance, but because there is but one Substance of heat and could. For the greatest part of Africa is hot and without Water. But they that have travelled Scythia, Thrace, and the Pontic Regions report them to be full of vast Lakes, and large and deep Rivers. And as for those Regions that lie between both, those parts that join upon Lakes and Marshes are most could by reason of the Exhalations from the Water.  
Posidonius therefore affirming the moistness of the Air to be the cause of could, has no way disturbed the probability of our Argument, but rather added to the strength of it, for the Air would not always be the colder, the fresher it is, unless could had its Original from Moisture. And therefore Homer much more truly shows us the Fountain of could, when he says, A cool Refreshment fr●m the River breathed. Then again it many times happens that our sense deceives us. So that when we feel could Garments or could Wool, we believe we feel them to be moist, by reason of the Substance which is common to both, and of their Natures which are coherent and familiar one with another. But in Climates where the could is extreme, it oft-times breaks and cracks both Pots and Vessels whether made of Earth or Brass; none empty, but all full; the could giving force and might to the liquour within: which made Theophrastus say, that the Air breaks those Vessels making use of the could as of a Hammer; wh●ther more eloquently or more truly spoken, I leave you to judge. For then Vessels full of Pitch or Milk should be more subject to be broken by the Air.  
But Water seems to be could of itself, and that primitively too: for in respect of the coldness of it, it is opposite to the heat of the Fire, as to drought in respect of it's moisture, and to ponderosity in regard of the lightness of it. Lastly Fire is altogether of a dissipating and dividing Nature: Water, of a Nature to fasten and contain, holding and joining together by virtue of its moisture. Which was the reason why Empedocles called Fire a Pernicious Contention, but Water a Vehement Friendship. For the Nourishment of Fire is that which changes into Fire, and it changes that which is as it were of Kin and familiar to it. What is contrary to it as Water, cannot be changed by it, or at least with great difficulty. True it is, that as for itself, as I may so say, it cannot be burnt, but as for green Wood and wet Straw it overcomes them with much struggling, while the heat and could contending together by reason of their moisture, and their natural Antipathy produces only a dull flamme, clouded with smoke, that makes little progress upon the Materials. Compare these Arguments with theirs and consider 'em well.  
But Chrysippus believing the Air to be the primitive could, because it is dark, makes mention only of those that say the Water lies at farther distance from the Sky then the Air; and being desirous to give some Answer to them, If so, says he, we may as well affirm the Earth to be primitively could, because it is the farthest distant from the Sky; rejecting that as altogether improbable and absurd. But for my part I am of Opinion that there might be many probable and rational Arguments brought for the Earth, beginning with that which Chrysippus chiefly makes use of for the Air. Which is thus? First, that it is dark. For if he assuming these two Contrarieties and Faculties, believes that the one follows the other of necessity, then there might be produced a thousand Oppositions and Repugnances of the Earth in respect of the Sky, which would of necessity follow upon this which we have mentioned. For it is not to be only opposed as heavy to Light, or as that which tends downward to that which moves upward, or as slow and stable to swift and full of Motion; but as that which is heaviest to that which is lightest; that which is thickest to that which is most thin; or lastly as that which is immovable of itself, to that which moves spontaneously, and as possessing the middle space, to that which is in a perpetual circular Motion. Would it not be absurd to aver that the opposition of heat to could is accompanied with so many such remarkable Contrarieties? But Fire is bright, the Earth is dark; nay the very darkest and most voided of Light of all things. The Air first of all participates of Light, is soonest altered, and being replenished with radiancy disfuses the splendour of it far and near, and shows itself a vast Body of Light. For the Sun rising, as one of the Dithyrambie Authors writes, 
— Presently filled  
The spacious House of the Air-prancing winds.  From thence the descending Air disposes a part of her brightness to the Sea and standing Lakes, and the hidden depths of profound Rivers laugh and smile so far as the Air penetrates into them. Only the Earth of all other Bodies remains without light and impenetrable to the Beams of the Sun and Moon. But it is cherished and comforted by them, and suffers a small part of it to be warmed and fostered by entrance of the heat. But the solidness of it will not admit the brightness of Light, only the Surface of it is enlightened: But the innermost parts of it are called by the Names of Darkness, Chaos, and Hades: and Erebus is nothing else but that same perpetual darkness and horror in the Body of the Earth: besides that the Mythologists tell us that Night was the Daughter of the Earth. The Mathematicians also show us the Shadow of the Earth eclipsing the Body of the Sun. For the Air is filled with darkness by the Earth, as with Light by the Sun: and that part of the Air which is most voided of Light, is that same length of the Night which is caused by the Shadow of the Earth. And therefore both Men and Beasts make use of the exterior part of the Air and ramble in the dark, guided only by some footsteps of Light and certain Effluxes of a dim twinkling that are scattered through it: but he that keeps house and shuts himself up in his Chamber, as being encompassed by the Earth, remains altogether blind and without Light. Also the Hides and Horns of Beasts will not admit of Light by reason of their Solidness; but being burnt and shaved they become transparent, the Air being intermixed with them. Moreover I am of Opinion that the Earth is every where by the Poets said to be black, by reason of the darkness of it, and want of Light. So that the Antithesis of Light and Darkness is much more remarkable in reference to the Earth, then in respect of the Air.  
But this is nothing to the Question. For we have shown that there are many could things which are bright and transparent, and many hot things which are obscure and dark. But Ponderosity, Stability, Density, and Immutability are Qualities more properly belonging to could, of none of which the Air partakes, but of all which the Earth has a far greater share then the Water. And yet in all these things could by the judgement of Sense itself, appears to be hard, to cause hardness, and to make resistance. For Theophrastus tells us of Fish that have been frozen by extremity of could, when they have chanced to bounce ashore; and that their Bodies have been broken and crumbled to pieces like a Vessel of Glass or Potters day.  
You yourself have heard at Delphos, how that certain Persons ascending to the Top of Parnassus to succour the Thyades that were overtaken with a violent Storm of Wind and Hail, their Coats were frozen so hard and into a substance so like Wood, that being spread upon the ground they broken and crumbled to pieces. It also stiffens the Nerves and deprives the Tongue of Motion, congealing the moist and softer parts of the Body: which being obvious to sight, let us thus consider the Effect.  
Every Faculty, wherever it prevails, changes into itself whatever it overcomes. Thus whatever is overcome by heat, is set on fire: that which is vanquished by Wind, is changed into Air. That which falls into Water, becomes well moistened, unless quickly saved. Of necessity therefore those things which are violently affencted by could, must be changed into the primitive could. For Freezing is an excess of Refrigeration; which Congelation ends in Alteration and Putrefaction, when the could prevailing every way, congeales the liquid Substance, and presses forth the Heat: so that the bottom of the Earth is, as it were, a kind of Congelation, and altogether Ice( for there the could inhabits simplo and unmixed and removed hard and rigid at the greatest distance from the Sky) but as for those things which are conspicuous as Rocks and Precipices, Empedocles believes them to be thrust forth and supported by the fire that burns in the Bottom of the Earth. Which appears the more, in regard that wherever the Heat is pressed forth and vanishes away, all those things are congealed by the could; and therefore Congelations are called {αβγδ}, Coagmentations or fastnings together: and the extremeties of many things where Heat fails growing black, make them look like brands when the fire is out. For could congeals some things more some things less; more especially such things wherein it is primitively existent. For as if it be the Nature of Hot to render Light, that which is hottest is lightest; if of moist to soften, that which is moistest is softest; so if it be the nature of could to congeal, of necessity that which is coldest must be most congealed, that is to say the Earth: and that which is most could must be that which is by nature and primitively could: which is no more then what is apparent to Sense. For Mud is colder then Water, and Earth being thrown upon Fire puts it out. Your Smiths also when their Iron is melted and read hot, strew upon it the dust of Marble, to cool it and stop the running of it too fluidly. Dust also cools the Bodies of the Wrestlers, and dries up their sweat. To go no farther, what means our own yearly practise to alter our Lodgings and Habitation●▪ while we remove in the Winter so far as we can into the upper parts of our Buildings, but in the Summer descending against and seeking convenient refuge in the lower Edifices, and sometimes enjoying ourselves under ground in the very Arms of the Earth? Do we not do it, as being guided by our Senses for coolness sake to the Earth, and thereby acknowledging that to be the seat of primitive could. And certainly our coveting to live near the Sea in Winter, may be thought to be a kind of flight from the Earth of those that seem to forsake it by reason of the nipping Frosts, and run to encircle themselves with the Air of the Sea for warmths sake: but then again in the Summer by reason of the scorching heat, we desire the Earth born Up-land Air, not because it is could of its self, but because it had its Original and blossomed from the primitive natural could, and is inbu'd with that power which is in the Earth, as Iron is inbu'd with the virtue of the Water wherein it is quenched. Then again, of River Waters we find those are the coldest, that flow upon Gravel and Stones, and fall down from Mountains; and of Well-waters, those which are in the deepest Wells: for with these the exterior Air is no longer mixed by reason of the depth of the Wells, and the other arise out of the pure and unmixed Earth: like the River that falls from the Mountain Taenarus, which they call the Water of Styx, rising out of a Rock with a parsimonious Spring, but so could that no other Vessel except the Hoof of an Ass will hold it; for all other sorts of Vessels it breaks and cracks to pieces. The Physitians also tell us that the Nature of all sorts of Earth is binding and restrictive; and they number up several sorts of Metals which are made use of in Physic by reason of their styptic and binding Qualities. For the Element of Earth is neither fit to cut, nor move, neither has it any points, neither is it subject to be softened or melted; but is firm and stable like a Cube; and therefore it has both ponderosity and coldness, had it but the faculty to thicken and condense moist things: nevertheless it causes tremblings and quiverings in our Bodies by reason of its inequality, and if it get the better by the utter expulsion and extinguishing of the Heat, it occasions a frozen and deadly habit of Body. Therefore the Earth never consumes by burning, neither does Fire consume it, or prey upon it, but with a very slow and difficult Progress. But the Air many times darts forth flamme from its self, and being once set on fire, grows fluid, and flashes out in Lightning. Heat also feeds upon moisture; for it is not the solid part of the Wood, but the moist and oily part that is combustible. Which being consumed, the solid and dry is left behind in the Ashes. Neither do they arrive at their mark, who pretending to burn the Ashes also, sprinkle them with oil and Grease; for when the Liquid is consumed, the earthy part remains, do what they can. Therefore, because the Earth is of a Nature not to be moved from its Station, unalterable in its Substance, and always abiding in the habitation of the Gods, the Ancients called it Hestia or Vesta from standing, by reason of its Immobility and Concretion, of which could is the Bond or Ligament, as Archelaus the Philosopher termed it, which nothing is able to unloosen, or soften, as not being capable of heat and warmth.  
As for those who say they have been sensible of the could of Air and Water, but never felt the Earth so could, They consider only the surface of the Earth, which is a mixture of Air, Water, Sun and Heat; a sort of People who deny the Air to be naturally and primitively hot, but either scalding Water, or read hot Iron; because they feel and handle the one, but are not sensible of the pure and celestial Fire; in like manner, neither do they see the Earth which lies concealed at the bottom, thô that be what is chiefly to be taken for the Earth, separated from all other things. The truth of which is demonstrable▪ from several Rocks, which from the Deep sand forth a could vapour so sharp and vehement that it is hard to be endured. They also that desire cool drink, throw small Flint-stones into Water. For it becomes thick and quicker to the taste, through the could which is carried upward fresh and unmixed from the Stones.  
Therefore it was the Opinion of the Ancient Philosophers and learned Men, that terrestrial and celestial Things were not to be mixed together, not so much out of a local Consideration of uppermost and lowermost in respect of place, but with a respect to the difference of Faculties, attributing hot and splendent, swift and light to the Immortal and Sempiternal Nature, but believing dark, and could and slow, to be the unhappy Portion of the dead under the Shackles of Corruption. More especially since the Body of a living Creature while it breaths and flourishes( as the Poets say) enjoys both Hea● and Life. But being deprived of these and only the terrestrial Parts remaining, presently could and stiffness takes place as if heat were naturally existent in every thing else, but only in the Earth. These things, dear Favorinus compare with what has been said by others; which if they neither come too short of probability, nor too much exceed it, bid all their Opinions farewell, as believing it much more becoming a Philosopher to pause in dubious Matters, rather then over hastily to side with any one particular Party.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Whether Water or Fire be most Useful?  Translated out of the Greek by the same Hand. 
WAter, the best of things, but Gold is burning Fire, says Pindarus. Therefore he positively assigns the second Place to Fire. With whom Hesiod agreed, where he says, First of all Chaos Being had— For most believe that by the Word Chaos he meant Water, from Caos signifying Diffusion. But the balance of Argument as to this Point seems to be equal. For there are some who will have Fire to be the Principle of all things, and that like Sperm it begets all things out of itself, and resolves all things again by Conflagration. Therefore, not to mention the Persons, let us consider the Arguments on both sides, which are to us the most convincing.  
Now then is not that most useful to us, which in all places, and always, and most of all, we stand in need of? Like a Piece of household-stuff, or a Tool, nay, like a Friend that is ready at all Hours and Seasons? But Fire is not always useful; for sometimes it is a Prejudice to us, and we avoid it all we can. But Water is useful, Winter and Summer, to the Healthy and Sick, Night and Day, neither indeed is there any time, but that a Man has need of it. Therefore it is that the Dead are called Alibantes, as being without Moisture, and by that means deprived of Life: and Man may be without Fire, but never was any Man without Water: besides, that that which was existent from the beginning, and with the first Creation of Man must be thought more useful than what was afterwards invented. From whence it is apparent, that Nature bestowed the one upon us as a thing absolutely necessary: the other Fortune and Art found out for Superfluity of Uses: nor was the time ever known that Man could ever say he never stood in need of Water, or that it was an Invention of any of the Gods or Heroes: but the Use of Fire was a late Invention of Prometheus, at what time Life was without Fire, not without Water. And that this is no Poetical Fiction, is demonstrable from this, that there are many sorts of People, that live without Fire, without Houses, without attorneys, in the open Air. And Diogenes the Cynic made no use of Fire; so that after he had swallowed a raw Fish, This Hazard, said he, do I run for your Sakes; but without Water no Man ever thought it convenient or possible to live. But why do I confine my Discourse only to the Nature of Men? Seeing there are so many Infinite Sorts of Creatures( the Use of Fire being only known to Man) that live and feed, without Fire, upon Roots, Fruits and Raw Flesh; but without Water, neither Fish, nor Fowl, nor Land Animals can subsist. For all Beasts that feed upon Flesh, of which there are some, as Aristotle reports, that never drink, nevertheless support Life and Being merely by Moisture. So that of necessity, that must be most profitable, without which no sort of Life can subsist or endure.  
Let us therefore make a Step from things that make no use of Fire, to things that we ourselves make use of, such are Plants and Fruits; of which some are altogether voided of Heat, others enjoy it but imperfectly and obscurely. But Moisture causes all things to germinate, increase and bring forth. Why should I stand to reckon up Wine, and oil, and whatever else we reap, and milk forth, and see before our Eyes? when Wheat itself, which is looked upon as a dry Nourishment, grows by Alteration, Putrefaction, and Corruption of the moist Matter.  
Then again, that is most useful, which is no way detrimental. Now Fire easily becomes most pernicious, but the Nature of Water is never prejudicial.  
In the next place, that is most useful which affords the Benefit which it brings with least expense, and without any Preparation. But the Benefit of Fire requires Cost and Materials, and therefore the Rich make more use of it than the Poor; and Princes, then Private Persons; but Water has that Kindness for Mankind, that it freely prostrates its self to all alike, a Benefit perfect in its self, indigent of nothing, and wanting neither Tools nor Implements.  
Moreover, that which by Augmentation loses the Benefit of it, is of least use. Such is Fire, which like a devouring Beast, ravages all before it, useful rather by Art and skilful Moderation, then of its own Nature. But from Water there is nothing to be feared.  
Furthermore, that is most useful, which may be joined with another. But Fire will not admit of Water; neither is it any way profitable by Conjunction with it. But Water becomes profitable by joining with Fire, and therefore hot Waters are wholesome and sensibly cure several Diseases. Neither shall you ever find moist Fire, but Water both could and hot, profitable for the Body of Man.  
Then again, there being four Elements, Water produces a fifth out of its self, which is the Sea, no less beneficial then the rest, as well for Commerce, as for many other things. So that it may be said this Element united and perfected our manner of Living, which before was wild and unsociable, correcting it by mutual Assistance, and creating Community of Friendship by reciprocal Exchanges of one good Turn for another. Therefore said Heraclitus, If there were no Sun, it would be perpetual Night: as much as to say, if there were no Sea, Man would be the most savage and shameless of all Creatures. But the Sea brought the Vine into Greece, and out of Greece transmitted the Use of Corn to foreign Parts: from Phoenicia translated the Knowledge of Letters, the Memorials that prevent Oblivion: furnished the World with Wine and Fruit, and prevented the greatest part of Mankind from being Illiterate and voided of Education. How is it possible then but that Water should be the most useful, when it thus far exceeds the Element of Fire? Or what can any Man say in defence of the Contrary?  
We say then, the Deity appointed the four Elements to complete the fabric of the Universe: and these again different one from another; only that Earth and Water were subjected, as being made and formed instead of Materials: and participating of Form and Order, and of Power to procreate and bring forth, so far as they are assisted by Air and Fire, the great Artificers that mould them into various Shapes; and lying dead, till roused by them to act and generate; of which two latter, Fire is the ruling Agent; as is manifest by Induction.  
For Earth without Warmth and Heat is altogether barren and unfruitful; but Fire, by virtue of its rousing and inflaming Quality, renders it diffusive and swells it into Generation. Nor can any Man find out any other Cause, why Rocks and the dry Tops of Mountains are not productive; but because they participate either nothing at all, or very little of Fire. Then generally for Water, it is so far from being sufficient of itself, for the Generation and Preservation of other things, that it is itself destroyed for want of Fire. But Fire is that which upholds every thing in its proper Being, and preserves it in its proper Substance, as well Water itself, as all other things; so that when Fire leaves it, Water will stink, and it may be said, that the Want of Fire is the Death and Destruction of Water. And thus we find that Pools and all manner of standing Waters, and such as are settled in Cavities not to be come a●, what an offensive and dead Stench they sand forth, and all for want of Motion; which as it kindles Heat in all things, so more especially in running Waters and swift Streams, which being thus agitated and enlivened by Heat, we commonly say such Waters Live. Why then should not that be accounted the most useful of the two that affords to the other the Cause of its Being, as Fire does to Water? For there is Moisture also in things after they are dead, nor are they altogether dried up; for otherwise moist Bodies would never putrifie; since Putrefaction is the Alteration of Dry into Moist, or rather the Corruption of Moisture in Flesh. Neither is Death any other then an absolute Defect and want of Heat: and therefore dead carcases are the Coldest of all. So that if you do but touch them with a Razor, they will blunt the Edge of it, through Excess of Coldness. Also in living Creatures, those Parts that least partake of Heat, are most insensible, as the Bones and Hair. And those Parts which are most distant from the Heart: So that the Difference which appears in living Things, is more or less, as their Heat is more or less vigorous. For Plants and Fruits are not produced by Moisture, but by the Warmth of the Moisture; and could Waters are most certainly, either less productive, or altogether barren. For if Water were fruitful in itself, it would always, and that spontaneously too, bear Fruit. But the contrary is apparent, and that it is rather baneful to generation from another Principle.  
Now as to the Use of Fire, considered as Fire, we have no need of Water, rather the contrary is to be made out: for Water extinguishes Fire. And as for Water, there is no use to be made of it in most things without Fire. For Water heated becomes useful, whereas otherwise it is prejudicial. So that of the two that is to be accounted best, which is profitable of itself, without the Assistance of another. Besides that Water is only beneficial to the Feeling, when you either wash with it, or touch it; But Fire is profitable to all the Sences; not only being felt, but seen at a Distance; so that you may add this to the rest of the virtues of it, that they are manifold and extraordinary.  
Then to say, that Man did once subsist without Fire, is a Mistake, it being impossible that Man should be without it. But we must aclowledge there are Differences in this Kind, as well as in other things. Thus Heat has rendered the Sea more beneficial, as having a greater Portion of Heat in it then other Waters, from which it otherwise differs not at all. And as for those that have no need of outward Fire, they do not avoid it because they do not want it, but because they abound in Heat within themselves. So that the Use of Fire seems to be more excellent in this, that Water is never in such a Condition as not to want external Aids; but Fire, endued with manifold virtues, contents itself with its own Sufficiency. Therefore, as he is the best Commander, who so manages the Affairs of his City, as not to have any need of foreign Assistance; so that Element excels, that supplys us in such a manner▪ as to want the least of other Helps from without. And this is to be said of other Creatures that have no need of external Heat.  
Now to argue on the other side, a Man may say thus, that whatever we make use of singly and alone is more profitable, and that is chiefly best, which we apprehended to be so by our Reason. For what is more useful or beneficial to us than Reason? and yet brute Animals want it. What then? is it the less profitable, because found out by foresight of its Utility? And since our Discourse has brought us to it, What is more beneficial to Life then Art? Yet Fire invented and preserves all manner of Arts: and therefore Vulcan is feigned to be the Prince of all Artificers.  
Man has allowed him but a little time to live, and as Aristo said, Sleep, like a Toll-gatherer, deprives him of the one half of that too. But for my Part, my Opinion is, that if a Man should wake all Night in the Dark, he would have no Benefit of his Watchfulness, unless Fire at the same time discovered to him the Benefit of Light, and displayed before his Eyes the Difference between Night and Day. Since then there is nothing more beneficial to Man then Life, and that this is prolonged by Fire, Why should not Fire be accounted the most beneficial of all things?  
Lastly, That is to be thought most profitable, which most apparently communicates to the Sences the Effects of its Temperament. Now do you not find that there is not any of the Sences, which of itself makes use of Moisture, without an Intermixture of Air and Fire? But every sense partakes of Fire, as being that which quickens the vital Faculty: more especially the Sight, which is the most acute of all the Sences in the Body, being a certain fiery Efflux, that gave us our first Light into the Belief of a Deity, and by virtue of which we are able, as Plato says, to comform our Souls to the Motions of the Celestial Bodies.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V. Against Colotes  
the Disciple and favourite of Epicurus.  Translated out of the Greek by A. G. Gent. 
COlotes, whom Epicurus was wont diminutively and by way of Familiarity or Fondness to call Colotaras and Colotarion, composed o Saturninus, and published a little Book, which he entitled, That according to the Opinions of the other Philosophers one cannot so much as live. Now I suppose, that 'twill not be unpleasant for you to red, when set down in Writing, what came into my Mind to speak against this Colotes, since I know you to be a Lover of all elegant and honest Treatises, and particularly of such, as regard the Science of Antiquiquity, and to esteem the bearing in Memory, and having, as much as possible may be, in hand the Discourses of the ancient Sages, to be the most Royal of all Studies and Exercises.  
Not long since therefore, as this Book was reading, Aristodemus the Aegian, a familiar Friend of Ours,( whom you well know to be one of the Academy, and thô he bears not a 
It was the Custom of those, who celebrated the Orgia or Feasts of Bacchus, to carry in their hands a Ferula, or piece of Wood, wound about with Ivy and Vine-branches, which they called Thyrsus, and therewith to strike all such, as, coming in their way either opposed or refused to join with them in their furious Revellings: In Allusion to this Custom, Plutarch here stiles Aristod●mus, an exceedingly earnest Asserter of Platoes doctrine, {αβγδ}.  Ferula, to be nevertheless a very vehement, not to say frantic, Celebrater of Platoes Orgia) did, I know not how, keep himself, contrary to his Custom, very still all the while, and patiently gave ear to it, even to the end. But the Reading was scarce well over, when he said: Well then, whom shall we cause to rise up and fight against this Man, in Defence of the Philosophers? For I am not of Nestors Opinion, who, when the most valiant of these nine warriors, that presented themselves to enter into Combat, was to be chosen, committed the Election to the Fortune of a Lot.  
Yet, answered I, you see, he so disposed himself in reference to the Lot, that the Choice might pass according to the Arbitrement of the wisest Man: 
And th' Lot, drawn from the Helmet, as they wished,  
On Ajax fell.—  But yet since you command me to make the Election, 
How can I think a better Choice to make  
Than the divine U●ysses?—  Consider therefore, and be well advised, in what manner you will chast●se this Man.  
But you know, replied Aristodemus, that Plato, when highly offended with his Boy, that waited on him, would not himself beat him, but requested Speusippus to do it for him, saying, that he himself was angry. As much therefore may I say to you: Take this Fellow to you, and treat him, as you please: For I am in a fit of Choler.  
When therefore all the rest of the Company desired me to undertake this Office: I must then, said I, speak since 'tis your Pleasure: But I am afraid, that I also shall seem more vehemently, than is fitting, transported against this Book, in the defending and maintaining Socrates against the Rudeness, Scurrility, and Insolence of this Man, who, because Socrates affirmed himself to know nothing certainly, instead of Bread, as one-would say, presents him Hay, as if he were a Beast, and asks him, why he puts Meat into his Mouth, and not into his Ear. And yet perhaps some would make but a Laughing-matter of this, considering the Mildness and Gentleness of Socrates; But for th' whole Host o'th Greeks,— that is, of the other Philosophers, amongst which are Democritus, Plato, Empedocles, Parmenides, and Melissus, who have been basely traduced and reviled by him, 'twere not only a shane to be silent, but even a sacrilege, in the least point to forbear or recede from Freedom of Speech in their Behalf, who have advanced Philosophy to that Honor and Reputation, it has gotten.  
And our Parents indeed have with the Assistance of the Gods given us our Life; but to live well, comes to us from Reason, which we have learnt from the Philosophers, favouring Law and Justice, and restraining our Concupiscence. Now to live well is to live sociably, friendly, temperately, and justly: Of all which Conditions they leave us not one, who cry out, that Mans sovereign Good lies in his Belly, and that they would not purchase all the virtues together at the expense of a cracked Farthing, if Pleasure were totally and on every side removed from them. And in their Discourses concerning the Soul and the Gods, they hold, that the Soul perishes, when it is separated from the Body, and that the Gods concern not themselves in our Affairs. Thus the Epicureans reproach the other Philosophers, that by their wisdom they bereave Man of his Life; whilst the others on the contrary accuse them of teaching Men to live degenerately, and like Beasts. Now these things are scattered here and there in the Writings of Epicurus, and dispersed thrô all his Philosophy. But this Colotes by having extracted from them certain Pieces and Fragments of Discourses, destitute of any Arguments whatever, to render them credible and intelligible, has composed his Book, being like a Shop or Cabinet of Monsters and Prodigies: As you better know, than any one else, because you have always in your Hands the Works of the Ancients.  
But he seems to me, like the Lydian, to open not only one Gate against himself, but to involve Epicurus also in many and those the greatest Doubts and Difficulties. For he begins with Democritus, who receives of him an excellent and worthy Reward for his Instruction: It being certain, that Epicurus for a long time called himself a Democritean, which as well others affirm, as Leonteus, a principal Disciple of Epicurus, who in a Letter, which he writ to Lycophron, says, that Epicurus honoured Democritus, because he first attained, thô a little at a Distance, the right and sound Understanding of the Truth, and that in general all the Treatise concerning natural things was called Democritean, because Democritus was the first, who happened upon the Principles, and met with the primitive Foundations of Nature. And Met●odorus says openly of Philosophy; If Democritus had not gone before, and taught the way, Epicurus had never attained to Wisdom. Now if it be true, as Colotes holds, that to live according to the Opinions of the other Philosophers is not to live, Epicurus was then a Fool in following Democritus, who lead him to a doctrine, which taught him not to live. Now the first thing, he lays to his Charge, is, that by supposing every thing to be no more such than such, he wholly confounds human Life. But Democritus was so far from having been of this Opinion, that Nothing is more such than such, that he opposed Protagoras the Philosopher, who asserted it, and writ many excellent Arguments, concluding against him, which this fine Fellow Colotes never saw, nor red, nor yet so much as dreamed of; but deceived himself by misunderstanding a Passage, which is in his Works, where he determins, that {αβγδ} is no more than {αβγδ}, naming in that Place the Body {αβγδ}, and the voided {αβγδ}, and meaning, that the voided has its own proper Nature and Subsistence, as well as the Body.  
But he is of Opinion, that Nothing is more such than such, who makes use of a Sentence of Epicurus, in which he says, that all the Apprehensions and Imaginations, given us by the Senses, are true. For if of two, saying, the one, that the Wine is sour, and the other, that 'tis sweet, neither of them shall be deceived in their Sentiments, how shall the Wine be more sour than sweet? And we may often see that some Men, using one and the same Bath, find it to be hot, and others, to be could: Because those order could Water to be put into it, as these do hot. 'tis said, that, a certain Lady, going to visit Berrhonice, Wife to King Deiotarus, as soon as ever they approached each other, they both immediately turned their Backs, the one, as it seemed, not being able to bear the smell of Perfume, nor the other of Butter. If then the Sense of one is no truer than the Sense of another, 'tis also probable, that Water is no more could than hot, nor sweet Ointment or Butter, better or worse scented one than the other. For if any one shall say, that it seems the one to one, and the other to another, he will, before he is ware, affirm, that they are both the one and the other. And as for these Symmetries and Proportions of the Pores or little Passages in the Organs of the Senses, about which they talk so much, and those different Mixtures of Seeds, which, they say, being dispersed thrô all savours, odours, and colours, move the Senses of different Persons to perceive different Qualities, do they not manifestly drive them to this, that Things are no more one than another? For to pacify those, who think, the Sense is deceived, and lies, because they see contrary Events and Passions in such, as use the same Objects, and to solve this Objection, they teach, that, all things being mixed and confounded together, and yet one nevertheless being more suitable and fitting to one, and another to another, there is not made a Contact and Comprehension of one and the same Quality, nor does the Object equally move all with all its Parts; but every one, meeting only those, to which it has its Sense commensurate and proportioned, they are too blame so obstinately to insist, that a thing is either coloured or not coloured, white, or not white, thinking to establish their own Senses by destroying those of others: whereas they ought neither to combat the Senses, because they all touch some Quality, each one drawing from this confused Mixture, as from a living and large Fountain, what is suitable and convenient; nor to pronounce of the whole, by touching only the Parts, nor to think, that all ought to be affencted after one and the same manner, seeing that one is affencted by one Quality and Faculty of it, and another by another. Are we then to seek, who those Men are, which bring in this Opinion, that Things are not more one than another? Or are those they, who hold, that every sensible thing is a Mixture, composed of all sorts of Qualities, like a Wind-Instrument, fitted for all sorts of Tunes? Now they confess, that all their Rules are lost, and their Faculty of judging quiter gone, if they admit any sensible Object, that is pure and simplo, and do not make each one thing to be many.  
See now to this purpose, what Discourse and Debate Epicurus makes Polyaenus to have with him in his Banquet concerning the Heat of Wine: for when he asked: Do you, o Epicurus say, that Wine does not heat? Some one answered: 'tis not universally to be affirmed, that Wine Heats. And a little after: For Wine seems not to be universally an Heater; but such a Quantity may be said to heat such a Person. And again subjoining the Cause, to wit, the Compressions and Disseminations of the Atoms, and having alleged their Commixtures and Conjunctions with others, when the Wine comes to be mingled in the Body, he adds this Conclusion: 'tis not universally to be said, that Wine is endued with a Faculty of Heating; but that such a Quantity may heat such a Nature, and so disposed; but that such a Quantity to such a Nature is cooling. For in such a Mass there are some Natures and Complexions, of which could might be composed, if it were necessary, that being joined with others, they should yield a refrigerative virtue. Wherefore some are deceived, who say, that Wine is universally an Heater, and others, that 'tis universally a Cooler. He then, who says, that many are deceived, and err, in holding that, which is hot, to be heating, and that, which is could, to be cooling, is himself in an Error, if he does not perceive it to follow from his Assertion, that one thing is not more such than another. He farther adds afterwards, that oftentimes Wine, entering into a Body, brings with it thither neither a calefying nor refrigerating virtue, but, the Mass of the Body being agitated and disturbed, and a Transposition made of the Parts, the Heat-effecting Atoms, being assembled together, do by their Multitude cause an Heat and Inflammation in the Body; and sometimes on the contrary disassembling themselves, cause a Refrigeration.  
But 'tis yet moreover wholly evident, that he has proceeded so far, as to say, that of all those things, which are called and esteemed Bitter, Sweet, Purging, Dormitive, and Luminous, not any one of them has an entire and perfect Quality to produce such Effects, nor to do, rather than to suffer, when they are in the Bodies, but are there susceptible of various Temperatures and Differences. For Epicurus himself, affirming, that colours are not connatural to the Body, but are engendered there according to certain Situations and Positions with respect to the Sight of Man, says: For this Reason the Body is no more coloured, than destitute of colour. And a little above he writes thus word for word: But without this Part, I know not, how a Man may say, that those Bodies, which are in the Dark, have colour; although very often, an Air equally dark being spread about them, some distinguish Diversities of colours, others perceive them not thrô the Weakness of their Sight: and moreover going into a dark House or Room, we at our first entrance see no Difference of colour, but, after we have stayed there a while, we do. Wherefore we are to say, that every Body is not more coloured, than not coloured. Now, if colour is a Relative, and has its Being in regard to something else, so also then is White, and so likewise Blew: and if colours are so, so also are Sweet and Bitter: so that it may truly be affirmed of every Quality, that it is not rather such than such: For to those, who are in such manner disposed, they will be such; but to those, who are not so disposed, they will also not be such. Colotes therefore has bedash'd and bespattered himself and his Mas●●r with that Dirt, in which, he says, those ly, who maintain, that things are not rather such than such.  
But is it in this alone, that this excellent Man shows himself 
To others a physician, whilst himself  
Is full of Ulcers?—  No indeed; but yet much farther in his second Reprehension he, without any way minding it, drives Epicurus and Democritus out of this Life. For he affirms Democritus to have said, that the Atoms are to the Senses colour by a certain Law, or Ordinance, that they are by the same Law Sweetness, and by the same Law Concretion: And that he, who uses this Reason, and persists in this Opinion, cannot himself imagine, whether he is living or dead. I know not how to contradict this Discourse; but this I can boldly affirm, that this is as inseparable from the Sentences and doctrines of Epicurus, as, they say, Figure and Weight are from Atoms. For what is it, that Democritus says? That there are Substances, in Number infinite, called Atoms, because they cannot be divided, yet different, without any Quality, which move, being dispersed here and there, in the infinite Voidness, and that when they approach one another, or meet; and are conjoined, that of such Masses, thus heaped together, one appears Water, another Fire, another a Plant, another a Man: and that all these are Atoms still, called by him Ideas, or Forms, and that there is nothing else: For there can be no Generation; and of those things, which are, not any one can become Nothing: because, these Atoms are so firm, that they can neither be changed, alter, nor suffer. Wherefore there cannot be made colour of those things, which are without colour, nor Nature or Soul of those things, which are without Quality, and impassable. Democritus then is to be blamed, not for confessing those things, that happen upon his Principles, but for supposing Principles, upon which such things happen. For he should not have supposed immutable Principles; or having supposed them, not have seen, that the Generation of all Quality is taken away; but having seen the Absurdity, to deny it is most impudent. But Epicurus says, that he supposes the same Principles with Democritus, but that he says not, that colour, Sweet, White, and other Qualities are by Law and Ordinance. If therefore not to say is this, does he not confess, that he does something of what he is wont to do? For it is, as when taking away divine Providence, he nevertheless says, that he leaves Piety and Devotion towards the Gods; and when choosing Friendship for the sake of Pleasure, that he suffers most grievous Pains for his Friends; and supposing the Universe to be infinite, that he nevertheless takes not away High and Low. But it is*** Indeed having taken the Cup, one may drink what he pleases, and return the Rest. But in Reasoning one ought chiefly to remember this wise apothegm, That of Principles, which are not necessary, the Ends and Consequences are necessary. It was not then necessary for him to suppose, or, to say better, to steal from Democritus, that Atoms are the Principles of the Universe; but having supposed this doctrine, and having pleased and glorified himself in the first probable and specious Appearances of it, he must afterwards also swallow that, which is troublesome in it, or must show, how Bodies, which have not any Quality, can bring all sorts of Qualities to othe●s only by their Meeting and joining together. As, to take that, which comes next to hand, whence does that, which we call Heat, proceed, and how is it engendered in the Atoms, if they neither had Heat, when they came, nor are become hot, after their being joined together? For the one presupposes, that they had some Quality, and the other, that they were sit to receive it. And you affirm, that neither the one nor the other must be said to agree to Atoms, because they are incorruptible. How then? Do not Plato, Aristotle, and Xenocrates produce Gold from that, which is not Gold, and ston from that, which is not ston, and many other things from the four first simplo Bodies? Yes indeed; but with these Bodies immediately concur also the Principles for the Generation of every thing, bringing with them great Contributions, that is, the first Qualities, which are in them: then, when they come to assemble and join in one, the Dry with the Moist, the could with the Hot, and the Solid with the Soft, that is, active Bodies with such, as are fit to suffer and receive every Alteration and Change, then is Generation wrought by passing from one Temperature to another, Whereas the Atom, being alone, is deprived and destitute of all Quality and generative Faculty, and when it comes to meet with the others, it can make only a Noise and Sound, because of its Hardness and Firmness, and not any other Accident. For they always strike and are strike not being able by this means to compose or make an Animal, a Soul, or a Nature, nay not so much as a Mass or Heap of themselves: for that as they beat upon one another, so they fly back again asunder.  
But Colotes, as if he were speaking to some ignorant and unlettered King, again attacks Empedocles for breathing forth these Verses: 
I've one thing more to say: 'Mongst Mortals there  
No Nature is, nor that grim thing, Men fear  
So much, called Death: there only happens first  
A Mixture, and mixed things asunder burst  
Again, when them Disunion does befall:  
And this is that, which Men do Nature call.  For my Part, I do not see, how this is repugnant and contrary to Life or Living, especially amongst those, who hold, that there is no Generation of that, which is not, nor Corruption of that, which is; but that the Assembling and Union of the things, which are, is called Generation, and their Dissolution and Disunion named Corruption and Death. For that he took Nature for Generation, and that this is his Meaning, he has himself declared, when he opposed Nature to Death: and, if they neither live, nor can live, who place Generation in Union, and Death in Disunion, What else do these Epicureans? Yet Empedocles, gluing, as it were, and conjoining the Elements together by Heats, Softnesses, and Humidities, gives them in some sort a Mixtion and Unitive Composition; but these Men, who hunt and drive together the Atoms, which they affirm to be immutable and impassable, compose nothing, proceeding from them, but indeed make many and continual Percussions of them.  
For the Interlacement, hindering the Dissolution, more and more augments the Collision, and Concussion: so that there is neither Mixtion, nor adhesion and Conglutination, but only a Combustion and Combat, which according to them, is called Generation. And if the Atoms do now recoil by reason of the Shock, they have given, and then return again, after the Blow is past, they are above double the time absent from one another, without either touching or approaching, so as nothing can be made of them, not even so much ●s a Body without a Soul. But as for Sense, Soul, Understanding, and Prudence, there is not any Man, who can in the least conceive or imagine, how 'tis possible, they should be made in a Veidness and of Atoms, which neither when separate and apart, have any Quality; nor any Passion or Alteration, when they are assembled and joined together, especially, seeing this their Meeting together is not an Incorporation, or Congress, making a Mixture, or Coalition, but rather Percussions and Repercussions: so that, according to the doctrine of these People, Life is taken away, and the Being of an Animal denied, since they suppose Principles, voided, impassable, and invisible, and such, as cannot admit or receive any Mixture or Incorporation whatever. How then is it, that they admit and allow Nature, Soul, and Living Creature? Even in the same manner, as they do an Oath, Prayer, Sacrifice, and the Adoration of the Gods. Thus as they adore by Word and Mouth, only naming and feigning that, which by their Principles they totally take away, and abolish: so they call that, which is born, Nature, and that, which is engendered, Generation, as those, who ordinarily call the Wood itself, the Framing and Fashioning of the Wood, and the Voices, that accord and sound together, Symphony. Whence then came it into his Mind, to object these Words against Empedocles. Why, says he, do we tyre ourselves in taking such care of ourselves, in desiring and longing after certain things, and shunning and avoiding others? For we neither are ourselves, nor do we live by making use of others. But be of good Cheer, my dear and sweet Friend Colotarion, may one perhaps say to him, there is none, who hinders you from taking Care of yourself by teaching, that the Nature of Colotes is nothing else, but Colotes himself; or that forbids you to make use of things( now things with you are Pleasures) by showing, that there is not the Nature of Tarts and Marchpanes, of Sweet odours, or Venereal Delights; but there are Tarts and Marchpanes, Parfumes, and Women. For neither does the Grammarian, who says, that the Strength of Hercules is Hercules himself, deny the Being of Hercules, nor do those, who say, that Symphonies and Opinions are but bare Prolations, affirm, that there are neither Sounds nor Opinions: since also there are some, who, taking away the Soul and Prudence, do not yet seem to take away either Living, or being Prudent.  
And when Epicurus says, that the Nature of things are Bodies and their Place, do we so comprehend him, as if he meant, that Nature were something else than the things, which are? or as if he insinuated, that it is the things themselves, which are, and nothing else? As, to wit, he is wont to call Voidness itself the Nature of Voidness, and the Universe, by Jupiter, the Nature of the Universe. And if one any should thus question him: What sayest thou, Epicurus, that this is Voidness, and that the Nature of Voidness? No by Jupiter, would he answer: But this Communication of Names, one for another, is it in use by Law and Custom, or is it not? I grant, it is. Now what has Empedocles done else, but taught, that Nature, is nothing else, save that which is born; and Death no other thing but that which dies? But as the Poets very often, forming as it were an Image, say thus in figurative Language: 
Strife, Tumult, Noise, placed by some angry God,  
Mischief, and Malice, there had their Abode;  So do many attribute Generation and Corruption to things, that are contracted together and dissolved. But so far has he been from stirring, and taking away that, which is, or contradicting that, which evidently appears, that he casts not so much as one single word out of the accustomed use; but taking away all figurative Fraud, that might hurt or endamage things, he again restored the ordinary and usual signification to words in these Verses.  
When from mixed Elements we sometimes se●  
A Man produced, sometimes a Beast, a three,  
Or bide, this Birth and Geniture we name;  
But Death, when this so well campacted Frame  
And Juncture is dissolved.—  
And yet I myself say, that Colotes, thô he alleged these Verses, did not understand, that Empedocles took not away Men, Beasts, Trees, or Birds, which he affirmed to be composed of the Elements, mixed together: and that by teaching, how much they are deceived, who call this Composition Nature and Life, and this Dissolution unhappy Destruction and miserable Death, he did not abrogate the using of the customary Expressions in this respect. And to me indeed Empedocles seems not to have aimed in this place at the disturbing the common manner of using and pronouncing these Words; but that he really, as it has been said, had a Controversy about Generation from things, that have no Being, which some call Nature. Which he manifestly shows by these Verses: 
Fools, and of little Thought we well may deem,  
Those, who so silly are, as to esteem,  
That what ne're was, may now enge●dred be,  
And that what is, may perish utterly.  For these are the Words of one, who cries loud enough to those, which have Ears, that he takes not away Generation, but Procreation from nothing, nor Corruption, but total Destruction, that is, Reduction to nothing. For to him, who would not so savagely and foolishly, but more gently calumniate, the following Verses might give a colourable occasion of charging Empedocles with the contrary, when he says: 
No prudent Man can e're into his Mind  
Admit, that, whilst Men, living here on Earth,  
( Which only Life they call) both Fortunes find,  
They Being have; but that before the Birth  
They nothing were, nor shall be, when once dead.  For these are not the Expressions of a Man, who denies those, that are born, to be, but rather of him, who holds those to be, that are not yet born, or that are already dead. And Colotes also does not altogether accuse him of this; but says, that according to his Opinion we shall never be sick, never wounded. But how is it possible, that he, who affirms Men to have Being both before their Life and after their Death, and during their Life to find both Fortunes, or to be accompanied both by Good and Evil, should not leave them the Power to suffer? Who then are they, o Colotes, that are endued with this Privilege, never to be wounded, never to be sick? Even you yourselves, who are composed of Atoms and Voidness, neither of which, you say, has any Sense. Now there is no great Hurt in this; but the worst is, You have nothing left, that can cause you Pleasure, seeing an Atom is not capable to receive those things, which are to effect it, and Voidness cannot be affencted by them.  
But because Colotes would immediately after Democritus seem to inter and bury Parmenides, and I have passed over, and a little postponed his Defence, to bring in between them that of Empedocles, as seeming to be more coherent and consequent to the first Reprehensions, let us now return to Parmenides. Him then does Colotes accuse of having broached and set abroad certain shameful and villainous Sophistries: and yet by these his Sophisms he has neither rendered Friendship less honourable, nor Voluptuousness or the Desire of Pleasures more audacious and unbridled. He has not taken from Honesty its attractive Property, or its being venerable or recommendable of itself: nor has he disturbed the Opinions we ought to have of the Gods. And I do not see, how by his saying, that All[ or the Universe] is One, he hinders or obstructs our Living. For when Epicurus himself says, that All is infinite, that 'tis neither engendered nor perishable, that it can neither increase nor be diminished, he speaks of the Universe, as of one only thing. And having in the beginning of his Treatise concerning this Matter said, that the Nature of those things, which have Being, consists of those small indivisible Bodies, which he calls Atoms, and of Voidness, he makes a Division as it were of one thing into two Parts: one of which has in reality no Subsistence, being, as yourselves term it, impalpable, voided, and incorporeal: so that by this means, even with you also All comes to be One, unless you desire in speaking of Voidness, to use Words empty and voided of Sense, and to combat the Ancients, as if you were fighting against a Shadow.  
But these Atomical Bodies, you will say, are, according to the Opinion of Epicurus, infinite in number, and every thing, which appears to us, is composed of them. See now therefore, what Principles of Generation you suppose, Infinity and Voidness: one of which, to wit Voidness, is unactive, impassable, and incorporeal; the other, to wit Infinity, is disorderly, unreasonable, dissolving and confounding itself, because it cannot for its Multitude, be contained, circumscribed, or limited. But Parmenides has neither taken away Fire, nor Water, nor Rocks and Precipices, nor yet Cities, as Colotes says, which are built and inhabited as well in Europe as in Asia: since he has both made 
For {αβγδ} I red {αβγδ}.  Jupiter the World, and mixing the Elements, to wit, Light and Dark, does of them and by them compose and finish all things, that are to be seen in the World. For he has written very largely of the Earth, Heaven, Sun, Moon, and Stars, and has spoken of the Generation of Man, and being, as he was, an ancient Author in Physiology, and one, who in writing delivered his own, and not anothers doctrine, he has passed over none of the principal things in Nature, of which he has not distinctly treated. Moreover he, first before all others, even before Socrates himself; understood, that in Nature there is one Part, subject to Opinion, and another subject to Intelligence. As for that, which is Opinable, or subject to Opinion, it is always unconstant, wandring, and carried away with several Passions and Changes, liable to Diminution and Increase, and to be variously disposed, not always after one manner, nor to the same. But as to the Intelligible Part, it is quiter of another kind, Constant, entire, and still ingenerable, as himself says, always like to itself, and perdurable in its Being.  
Here Colotes, Sycophant-like, catching at his Expressions, and drawing the Discourse from Things to Words, flatly affirms, that Parmenides in one word takes away and subverts all things by supposing Ens, or That, which is, to be One. But on contrary he takes away neither the one nor the other Part of Nature; but rendering to each of them, what belongs to it, and is convenient for it, places the Intelligible in the Idea of One and of That, which is: calling it Ens, or That, which is, because it is eternal and incorruptible; and One, because it is always like itself, and admits no Diversity. And as for that Part, which is Sensible, he places it in the Rank of Uncertain, Disorderly, and always Moving: Of which two Parts we may see the distinct judgement in the Soul: One certain Truth and sincere Knowledge is, as regarding that, which is intelligible, and always alike and of the same sort.  
The other does on Mens Opinions rest,  
Which breed no true Belief within our Breast:  
Because it is conversant in things, which receive all sorts of Changes, Passions, and Inequalities. Now how he could have left Sense and Opinion, if he had not also left Sensible and Opinable, 'tis impossible for any Man to say. But because to That, which truly is, it appertains to continue in its Being, and because Sensible things sometimes are, sometimes are not, continually passing from one being to another, and perpetually changing their State, he thought, they required some other Name than that of Entia, or Things, which always are. This Speech therefore concerning Ens; or That, which is, that it should be but one, is not to take away the Plurality of Sensible things, but to show, how they differ from that, which is Intelligible. Which Difference Plato, in his Treatise of Ideas more fully declaring, has thereby afforded Colotes an Opportunity of Cavilling: and therefore it seems reasonable to me to take next into our Consideration, as it were all in a Train, what he has also said against him.  
But first let us contemplate a little the Diligence together with the manifold and profound Knowledge of this our Philosopher, who says, that Aristotle, Xenocrates, Theophrastus, and all the peripatetics have followed these doctrines of Plato. For in what Corner of the uninhabitable World 
For {αβγδ} I red {αβγδ}.  have you, o Colotes, written your Book, that, composing all these Accusations against such Personages, you should never have lighted upon their Works, nor have taken into your Hands the Books of Aristotle concerning Heaven and the Soul, nor those of Theophrastus against the Naturalists, nor the Zoroastres of Heraclitus, nor his Book of Hell, nor that of Natural Doubts and Difficulties, nor the Books of Dicaearchus concerning the Soul: in all which Books they are in the highest degree contradictory and repugnant to Plato about the principal and greatest Points of Natural Philosophy? Nay Strato himself, the very Head and Prince of the other peripatetics, agrees not in many things with Aristotle, and holds Opinions, altogether contrary to Plato, concerning Motion, the Understanding, the Soul, and Generation. In fine, he says, that the World is not an Animal, and that what is according to Nature, follows what is according to Fortune: for that Chance gave the Beginning, and so every one of the Natural Effects was afterwards finished.  
Now as to the Ideas, for which he quarrels with Plato, Aristotle, by moving this matter at every turn, and alleging all manner of Doubts concerning them, in his ethics, in his physics; and in his Exoterical Dialogues, seems to some rather obstinately, than philosophically, to have disputed against these doctrines, as having proposed to himself the Debasing and undervaluing of Plato's Philosophy: so far he was from following it. What an impudent Rashness then is this, that having neither seen nor understood, what these Persons have written, and what were their Opinions, he should go and device such things, as they never imagined, and persuading himself, that he reprehends and refutes others, he should produce a Proof, written with his own hand, arguing and convincing himself of Ignorance, Licentiousness, and shameful Impudence, in saying, that those, who contradict P●ato, agree with him, and that those, who oppose him, follow him? Plato, says he, writes, that Horses are in vain by us esteemed Horses, and likewise Men. And in which of Plato's Commentaries has he found this hidden? For as to us we red in all his Books, that Horses are Horses, that Men are Men, and that Fire is by him esteemed Fire, because he holds, that every one of these things is sensible and subject to Opinion. But this fine fellow Colotes, in whom there is not the least Grain of Philosophy, apprehends it to be one and the same thing, to say, Man is not, and Man is a Non-ens, or That, which has no Being.  
Now to Plato there seems to be a wonderful great Difference between Not to be at all, and To be a Non-ens, or That, which has no Being: because the first imports an Annihilation and Abolishment of all Substance; and the other shows the Diversity, there is between that, which is participated, and that, which participates. Which Diversity those, who are come after, have only distinguished into the Difference of Genus, and Species, and certain common and proper Qualities or Accidents, as they are c●ll'd, but ascended no higher, falling into more logical Doubts and Difficulties. Now there is the same Proportion between that, which is participated, and that, which participates, as there is between the Cause and the Matter, the Original and the Image, the Faculty and the Passion. Wherein that, which is by itself, and always the same, principally differs from that, which is by another, and never in one and the same manner: because the one never was, nor ever shall be non-existent, and is therefore totally and essentially an Ens or a Thing, that has Being; but the other has not that very Being, which it has not of itself, but happens to take and participate from another, firm and constant, but goes out of it by its imbecility, the Matter always gliding and sliding about the Form, and receiving several Passions and Changes towards the Image of the Substance, so that it is continually moving and shaking. As therefore he, who says, that the Image of Plato is not Plato, takes not away the Sense and Subsistence of the Image, but shows the Difference of that, which is something of itself, from that, which is in regard of it: so neither do they take away the Nature, Use, or Sense of Men, who affirm, that every one of us is by participating the Idea of a certain common Substance become the Image of that, which affords Similitude to our Geneneration. For neither does he, who says, that a red-hot Iron is not Fire, or the Moon the Sun, but, as Parmenides has it, 
A Torch, which round the Earth by Night  
Does bear about a borrowed Light,  take away therefore the Use of Iron, or the Nature of the Moon. But if he should deny it to be a Body, or affirm, that it is not illuminated, he would then contradict the Senses, as one, who admitted neither Body, Animal, Generation, nor Sense. But he, who by his Opinion imagin●, that these things subsist only by Participation, and how far remote and distant they are from that, which always is, and which communicates to them their Being, does not reject the Sensible, but affirms, that the Intelligible is: nor does he take away and abolish the Passions, which are wrought, and appear in us; but shows to those, who follow him, that there are other things, firmer and more stable than these in respect of their Essence, because they are neither engendered, nor perish, nor suffer any thing, and, more purely touching the Difference, teaches to express it by the Names, calling these Entia, or Things, that have Being; and those Fientia, or Things engendered. And the same also usually befalls the Moderns: for they deprive many and those great things of the Appellation of Ens or Being: such as are Voidness, Time, Place, and simply the whole entire Genus of things spoken, in which are comprised all things true. For these things, they say, are not Entia, but somethings and they perpetually make use of them in their Philosophy, as of things having Subsistence and Existence.  
But I would willingly ask this our Fault-finder, whether themselves do not in their Affairs perceive this Difference, by which some things are permanent and immutable in their Substances, as they say of their Atoms, that they are at all times and continually after one and the same manner because of their Impassibility and Hardness; but that the things, compounded of them, are fluxible, changeable, breeding, and perishing: forasmuch as infinite Images are always departing and going from them; and infinite others, as 'tis probable, repair to them from the ambient Air, filling up, what was diminished from the Mass, which is much diversify'd and transvasated, as it were, by this Change, since those Atoms, which are in the very Bottom of the said Mass, can never cease stirring and reciprocally beating upon one another, as they themselves affirm. There is then in things such a Diversity of Substance. But Epicurus is in this wiser and more learned than Plato, that he calls them all equally Entia, or Things, that have Being, to wit, the impalpable Voidness, the solid and resisting Body, the Principles, and the things composed of them: and yet thinks, that the Eternal does not so much as participate of the common Substance with that, which is generated, the immortal with the Corruptible, and the Natures, that are impassable, perdurable, unchangeable, and can never fall from their Being, with those, which have their Essence in suffering and changing, and can never continue in one and the same State. But thô Plato had with all the Justness imaginable deserved to have been condemned for having offended in this, yet should he have been sentenced by these Gentlemen, who speak more elegantly and correctly, only as having confounded the Terms, and used improper Expressions; and not as having taken away the things, and driven Life from us, because he named them Fientia, or Things engendered, and not Entia, or Things, that have Being, as these Men do.  
But because we have passed over Socrates, who should have come next after Parmenides, we must now turn back our Discourse to him. Him therefore has Colotes begun at the very first to remove, as the common Proverb has it, from the sacred Line, and having mentioned, how Chaerephon brought from Delphos an Oracle, well known to us all, concerning Socrates, he says thus: Now as to this Naration of Chaerephons, because it is odious, full of Untruth, and sophistical, we will over-pass it. Plato then, that I may say nothing of others, is also odious, who has committed it to writing; and the lacedæmonians are yet more odious, who reserve that of Lycurgus amongst their most ancient and most authentic Inscriptions. The Oracle also of Themistocles, by which he persuaded the Athenians to quit their Town, and in a Naval Fight defeated the barbarous Xerxes, was a sophistical Fiction. Odious also were all the ancient Legislators and Founders of Greece, who established the most part of their Temples, Sacrifices, and solemn Festivals by the answer of the Pythian Oracle. But if the Oracle, brought from Delphos concerning Socrates, a Man ravished with a divine Zeal to virtue, by which he is styled and declared Wise, is odious, fictitious, and sophistical, by what Name shall we call your Cries, Noises, and Shouts, your Applauses, Adorations and canonisations, with which you extol and celebrate him, who incites and exhorts you to frequent and continual Pleasures? For thus has he written in his Epistle to Anaxarchus: I for my part incite and call you to continual Pleasures, and not to vain and empty virtues, which have nothing but turbulent Hopes of uncertain Fruits. And yet Metrodorus, writing to Timarchus, says: Let us do some extraordinarily excellent thing, not suffering ourselves to be plunged in reciprocal Affections, but retiring from this low, and terrestrial Life, and elevating ourselves to the truly, holy and divinely revealed Ceremonies and Mysteries of Epicurus. And even Colotes himself, hearing one day Epicurus, as he was discoursing of natural things, fell suddenly at his Feet, and embraced his Knees, as Epicurus himself, glorying in it, thus writes: For as if you had adored, what we were then saying, you were suddenly taken with a Desire, proceeding not from any natural Cause, to come to us, prostrate yourself on the Ground, embrace our Knees, and use all those Gestures to us, which are ordinarily practised by those, who adore and pray to the Gods: so that you made us also, says he, reciprocally sanctify and adore you. Those, by Jupiter, well deserve to be pardoned, who say, they would willingly give any Money for a Picture, in which should be represented to the life this fine story of one, lying prostrate at the Knees, and embracing the Legs of another, who mutually again adores him, and makes his devout Prayers to him. Nevertheless this devout Service, how well soever it was ordered and composed by Colotes, received not the condign Fruit, he expected: for he was not ordered and composed by Colotes, received not the condign Fruit, he expected: for he was not declared wise; but it was only said to him: Go thy ways, and walk immortal, and understand, that we also are in like manner immortal. These Men, knowing well in their Consciences, that they have used such foolish Speeches, have had such Motions, and such Passions, dare nevertheless call others odious. And Colotes, truly having shown us these fine First-fruits, and wise Positions touching the Natural Senses, That we eat Meat, and not Hay or Forage, and that when Rivers are deep and great, we pass them in Boats, but when shallow and easily fordable, on foot, cries out: You use vain and arrogant Speeches, o Socrates: You say one thing to those, who come to discourse with you, and practise another. Now I would fain know, what these vain and arrogant Speeches of Socrates were, since he ordinarily said, that he knew nothing, that he was always learning, and that he went inquiring and searching after the Truth. But if, o Colotes, you had happened on such Expressions of Socrates, as are those, which Epicurus writ to Idomeneus: sand me then the First-fruits for the Entertainment of our sacred Body, for ourself and for our Children: for so it comes upon me to speak: what more arrogant and insolent Words could you have used? And yet that Socrates spake otherwise, than he lived, you have wonderful Proofs in his Gests at Delium, at Potidaea, in his behaviour during the time of the thirty Tyrants, towards Archelaus, towards the People of Athens, in his Poverty, and in his Death. For are not these things beseeming and answerable to the doctrine of Socrates? They would indeed, good Sir, have been indubitable Testimonies, to show, that he acted otherwise, than he taught, if, having proposed Pleasure for the End of Life, he had lead such a Life, as this. Thus much for the Calumnies, he has uttered against Socrates.  
Colotes besides perceives not, that he is himself found stained with the same Crime of Impiety, he objects against Socrates. For this is one of the Sentences and Propositions of Epicurus, That none, but the wise Man, ought irrevocably and unchangeably to be persuaded of any thing. Since then Colotes, even after those Adorations, he performed to Epicurus, became not one of the Sages, let him first make these Questions and Interrogatories his own: How is it, that being hungry, he eats Meat, and not Hay, and that he puts a rob about his Body, and not about a Pillar, since he is not indubitably persuaded, either that a rob is a rob, or that Meat is Meat? But if he not only does these things, but also passes not over Rivers, when they are great and high, on foot, and flies from Wolves and Serpents, not being irrevocably persuaded, that any of these things is such, as it seems, but doing every thing, according to what appears to him: the Opinion of Socrates concerning the Senses was then no Obstacle to him, but that he might in like manner make use of things, as they appeared to him. For neither did Bread appear Bread, nor Hay appear Hay to Colotes, because he had red those holy Rules of Epicurus, which came down from Heaven; nor yet did Socrates thrô his vanity take a Fancy, that Hay was Bread, and Bread Hay: for these wise Men use better Opinions and Reasons, than we. But to have Sense, and to receive an Impression in the Imagination of things, as they appear, is common as well to the ignorant, as to the wise, as proceeding from Causes, where there needs not the Discourse of Reason. And the Proposition, which affirms, that the natural Senses are not perfect, nor certain enough to cause an entire Belief, hinders not, that every thing may appear to us; but leaving us to make use of our Senses in our Actions according to that, which appears, permits us not so to give Credit to them, as if they were exactly true, and without Error: for 'tis sufficient, that in what is necessary and commodious for use, there is nothing better. But as for the Science both of Knowledge, and Perfection, which the Soul of a Philosopher desires to have concerning every thing, the Senses have it not. But as to this Colotes will farther give us occasion to speak of it hereafter, for he brings this Objection against several others.  
Furthermore, whereas he profusely derides and despises Socrates for asking, what Man is, and in a youthful Bravery, as he terms it, affirming, that he was ignorant of it: 'tis manifest, that he himself who scoffs at it, never so much as thought of this matter; but Heraclitus on the contrary, as having done some great and worthy thing, said: I have been seeking myself. And of the Sentences, that were written over the Gates of Apollo's Temple at Delphos, the most excellent and most divine seems to have been this: Know thyself. And this it was, which gave Socrates an Occasion and Beginning of doubting and inquiring into it, as Aristotle says in his Platonicks. And yet this appears to Colotes ridiculous and fit to be scofft at: and I wonder, that he derides not also his Master himself, who does as much, whenever he writes concerning the Substance of the Soul, and the Beginning of that confused Mass. For if that, which is compounded of both, as they themselves hold, of the Body, to wit, and the Soul, is Man, he, who searches into the Nature of the Soul, consequently also searches into the Nature of Man, beginning from his chiefest Principle. Now that the Soul is very difficultly to be comprehended by Reason, and altogether incomprehensible by the exterior Senses, let us not learn from Socrates, who is a vain glorious and sophistical Disputer, but let us take it from these wise Men, who, having forged and framed the Substance of the Soul, as far as to her Faculties about the Flesh, by which she gives Heat, Softness, and Strength to the Body, of somewhat hot, spiritual, and aërial, proceeed not to that, which is the principal, but give over faint and tired by the way. For that, by which she judges, remembers, loves, hates, and in a word that, which is prudent and rational, is, say they, made afterwards of I know not what nameless Quality. Now we well know, that this nameless thing is a Confession of their shameful Ignorance, whilst they pretend, they cannot name, what they are not able to understand or comprehend. But let this, as they say, be pardoned them: for it seems not to be a light and easy Matter, and which every one can at the first Attempt find out and attain to, but has retired itself to the Bottom of some very remote Place, and there lies obscurely concealed: so that there is not amongst so many Words and Terms, as are in use, any one, that can explain or show it. Socrates therefore was not a Fool or Blockhead for seeking and searching, what himself was; but they are rather to be thought shallow Cox-Combs, who inquire after any other thing before this, the Knowledge of which is so necessary, and so hard to find. But granting a little to Colotes, that there is nothing so vain, useless, and odious, as the seeking into ones self, let us ask him, what Confusion of human Life is in this, and how it is, that a Man cannot continue to live, when he comes once thus to reason and discourse in himself: Go to now, what am I? Am I a Composition, made up of Soul and Body, or rather a Soul, serving itself and making use of the Body, as an Horse-man, who, using his Horse, is not a Subject, composed of Horse and Man? Or is every one of us the principal Part of the Soul, by which we understand, discourse, and act, and all the other Parts both of Soul and Body, only Organs and Utensils of this Power? Or, to conclude, is there no proper Substance of the Soul at all apart, but only the Temperature and Complexion of the Body so disposed, that it has Force and Power to understand and live? But Soceates does not by their Questions overthrow human Life, since all natural Philosophers treat of the same Matter. But those perhaps are the monstrous Questions and inquiries, that trouble the Common-weal, and turn it upside down, which are in Phaedrus, where he says, that every one ought to examine and consider himself, whether he is a savage Beast, more cautelous, outrageous, and furious, than ever was the Serpent Typhon; or on the contrary, an Animal more mildred and gentle, partaking by Nature of a certain divine Portion, and such, as is free from Pride. Now by these Discourses and Reasonings he overturns not the Life of Man, but drives from it Presumption and Arrogance, and those haughty and extravagant Opinions and Conceits, he has of himself: for this is that Serpent Typhon, which your Teacher and Master has made to be so great in you by his warring against the Gods and divine Men.  
Having done with Socrates and Plato, he next attacks Stilpo. Now as for those his true doctrines and good Discourses, by which he managed and governed himself, his Country, his Friends, and such Kings and Princes, as loved him, and esteemed him, he has not written a Word; nor yet what Prudence and Magnanimity was in his heart, accompanied with Meekness, Moderation, and Modesty: But having made mention of one of those little Sentences, he was wont in Mirth and Raillery to object against the Sophisters, he does, without alleging any Reason against it, or solving the subtlety of the Objection, stir up a terrible Tragedy against Stilpo, saying, that the Life of Man is subverted by him, inasmuch as he affirms, that one thing cannot be predicated of another. For how, says he, shall we live, if we cannot style a Man good, nor a Man a Captain, but must separately name a Man a Man, Good Good, and a Captain a Captain; nor can say, ten thousand Horse-men, or a fortified Town, but only call Horse-men Horse-men, and ten thousand ten thousand, and so of the rest? Now what Man ever was there, that lived the worse for this? Or who is there, that, hearing this Discourse, does not immediately perceive and understand it to be the Speech of a Man, who raillies gallantly▪ and proposes to others this Logical Question for the Exercise of their Wits? 'tis not, o Colotes, a great and dangerous Scandal to say, that Man is not good, or that Horse-men are not ten thousand; but to affirm, that God is not God, as you and the rest do, who will not confess, that there is a Jupiter presiding over Generation, or a Ceres giving Laws, or a Neptune watering the Plants. 'tis this Separation of Names, that is pernicious, and fills our Life with Audaciousness, and an Atheistical Contempt of the Gods. When you pluck from the Gods the Names and Appellations, that are tied to them, you abolish also the Sacrifices, Mysteries, Processions and Feasts. For to whom shall we offer the Sacrifices preceding the Tilling of the Ground, called Proteleia? to whom those for the obtaining of Health and Preservation, called Soteria? How shall we celebrate the Phosphoria or Funeral Rites, the Bacchanals, and the Ceremonies, that go before Marriage, if we admit neither 
The Priests of Bacchus.  bacchants, 
The Gods presiding over Funeral and Marriage Solemnities, so called from the bearing of Torches, which was usual in both.  Phosphori, 
Those, that were invocated at the Beginning to plow and break open the Ground.  Proëresii, nor 
Those that had Care of Mans Safety and Preservation.  Soteres? For this it is, that touches the principal and greatest Points, being an Error in things, and not in Words, in the Structure of Propositions, or Use of Terms.  
Now if these are the things, that disturb and subvert human Life, who are there that more offend and fail in Language than you? For saying, that Propositions are the only Substance of Speech, you utterly abolish the Being of simplo Words, and admitting only, what is by Composition, you take away in the mean time the things, particularly signified by them, by which are wrought Disciplines, Doctrines, Anticipations, Intelligences, Inclinations, and Assents, which you hold to be nothing at all. But as for Stilpo, thus the Matter stands. If of a Man we predicate Good, and of an Horse Running, he says, that the Predicate, or thing predicated, is not the same with the Subject, or that, of which it is predicated; but that the essential Definition of Man is one, and of Good another; and again, that to be an Horse, differs from to be Running: For being asked the Definition of the one and of the other, we do not give the same for them both; and that therefore those err, who predicate the one of the other. For if Good is the same with Man, and To run the same with an Horse, how is Good affirmed also of Food and medicine; and again, by Jupiter, To run, of a Lion and a Dog? But if the Predicate is different, then we do not rightly say, that a Man is good, and an Horse runs. Now if Stilpo is in this exorbitant, and grossly mistaken, not admitting any Copulation of such things, as are in the Subject, or affirmed of the Subject, with the Subject itself; but holding, that every one of them, if it is not absolutely one and the same thing with that, to which it happens, or of which it is spoken, ought not to be spoken or affirmed of it, no not even as an Accident: 'tis nevertheless manifest, that he was only offended with some Words, and opposed the usual and accustomed Manner of Speaking, and not that he overthrew Mans Life, and turned his Affairs upside down.  
Colotes then, having got rid of the old Philosophers, turns to those of his own time, but without naming any of them; thô he would have done better, either to have reproved by Name these Moderns, as he did the ancients, or else to have named neither of them. But he who has so often employed his Pen against Socrates, Plato, and Parmenides, evidently demonstrates, that 'tis thrô cowardice, he dares not attack the Living, and not for any Modesty or Reverence, of which he shew'd not the least Sign to those, who were far more excellent than these: But his Meaning is, as I suspect, to assault the Cyrenaicks first, and afterwards the academics, who are Followers of Arcesilaus: for these were they who doubted of all things; but those, placing the Passions and Imaginations in themselves, were of Opinion, that the Belief, proceeding from them, is not sufficient for the assuring and affirming of things; but, as if it were in the Siege of a Town, abandoning, what is without, they have shut themselves up in the Passions, using this Word, It seems, and not asserting of things without, It is. And therefore they cannot, as Colotes says of them, live, or have the Use of things. And then speaking comically of them, he adds: These deny, that there is a Man, an Horse, a Wall; but say, that they become Walls, Horses, Men. In which he first maliciously abuses the Terms, as Calumniators are usually wont to do. For thô these things follow from the Sayings of the Cyrenaicks; yet he ought to have declared the Fact, as they themselves teach it: for they affirm, that things then become sweet, bitter, lightsome, or dark, when each thing has the Effect of these Passions in itself, so that it cannot be distracted from it. But if Honey is said to be sweet, an Olive-branch bitter, Hail could, Wine hot, and the Nocturnal Air dark, there are many Beasts things, and Men, that testify the contrary: for some have an Aversion for Honey, others feed on the Branches of the Olive-Tree; some are scorched by Hail, others cooled with Wine; and some, whose Sight is dazzled in the Sun, see well by Night. Wherefore Opinion, containing itself within these Passions, remains safe and free from Error; but when it goes forth, and attempts to be curious in judging and pronouncing concerning exterior things, It often deceives itself, and opposes others, who from the same Objects receive contrary Passions, and different Imaginations. And Colotes seems properly to resemble those young Children, who are but beginning to learn their Letters: for being accustomed to learn them, where they see them in their own Horn-Books and Primers, when they see 'em written any where else, they doubt and are troubled: so those very Discourses, which he praises and approves in the Writings of Epicurus, he neither understands, nor knows again, when they are spoken by others. For those, who say, that the sense is truly informed and moulded, when there is presented one Image round, and another broken, but nevertheless permit us not to pronounce, that the Tower is round, and the Oar broken, confirm, that the Passions are their Imaginations, but they will not aclowledge and confess, that the things without are so affencted. But as those say not, that they are an Horse or Wall, but that indeed they are imprinted with the Figure of an Horse, or of a Wall: so also it is necessary to say, that the Sight is imprinted with a Figure round or triangular, with three unequal Sides, and not that the Tower is in that manner triangular or round: For the Image, by which the Sight is affencted, is broken; but the Oar, whence that Image proceeds, is not broken. Since then there is a Difference between the Passions and the external Subject, the Belief must either remain in the Passion, or else the Being, that is confirmed by the Appearance, is reproved and convinced of Untruth. And whereas they cry out, and are offended about the Sense, because the Cyrenaicks say not, that the thing without is hot, but that the Passion of the Sense is such: is it not the same, with what is said touching the Taste, when he says, that the thing without is not sweet; but that some Passion and Motion about the Sense is such? And for him, who says, that he has received the Apprehension of an human Form, but perc●ives not, that it is a Man, whence has he taken occasion so to say? Is not from those, who affirm, that they receive an Imagination and Apprehension of a bowed Figure and Form; but that the Sight pronounces not the thing, which was seen to have been bowing or round, but that a certain Effigies of it was such? Yes, by Jupiter, will some one say; but I, going near the Tower, or touching the Oar, will pronunce and affirm, that the one is straight, and the other has many Angles and Faces; but he, when he comes near it, will confess, that it seems and appears so to him, and no more. Yes certainly, good Sir, and more than this, when he sees and observes the Consequence, that every Imagination is equally worthy of Belief for itself, and none for another; but that they are all in like Condition. But this your Opinion is quiter lost, that all the Imaginations are true, and none false or to be disbeliev'd, if you think, that these, being near, ought to pronounce positively of that, which is without; but those, being far off, you credit no farther, than that they are so affencted. For if they are in equal Condition, as to their being believed, when they are near, or when they are far off, 'tis just, that either upon all of them, or not upon these, should follow the judgement, pronouncing, that a thing is; but if there is a Difference in the being affencted between those, that are near, and those, that are far off, it is then false, that one Sense and Imagination is not more express and evident than another. As those, which they call Attestations, are nothing to the Sense, but somewhat to Opinion: so they would have us, following them, to pronounce concerning exterior things: and making Being the judgement of Opinion, and what appears the Affection of Sense, they transfer the Judicature from that, which is totally true, to that, which often fails. But how full of Trouble and Contradiction, in respect of one another, these things are, what need is there to say at present?  
But the Reputation of Arcesilaus, who was the best beloved, and most esteemed of all the Philosophers in his Time, seems to have been no small Eye-sore to Epicurus: who says of him, that delivering nothing, peculiar to himself, or of his own Invention, he imprinted in illiterate Men an Opinion and Esteem of his being very knowing and learned. Now Arcesilaus was so far from desiring any Glory by being a Bringer in of new Opinions, and from arrogating to himself those of the Ancients, that the Sophisters of that Time blamed him for attributing to Socrates, Plato, Parmenides, and Heraclitus, the Doctrines concerning the Retention of Assent, and the Incomprehensibility of things, having no need so to do; but only that he might strengthen them, and render them recommendable by inscribing them to such illustrious Personages. For this therefore Thanks to Colotes, and every one, who declares, that the academic Doctrine was from higher Times derived to Arcesilaus. Now as for the Retention of Assent, and the Doubting of all things, not even those, who have much laboured in the Matter, and strained themselves to compose great Books, and large Treatises concerning it, were ever able to stir it, but bringing at last out of the Stoa itself the Cessation from all Actions, as the Gorgon to frighten away the Objections, that came against them, were at last quiter tired and gave over. For they could not, what Attempts and Stirs soever they made, obtain so much from the Instinct, by which the Appetite is moved to act, as to suffer itself to be called an Assent, or to aclowledge Sense for the Origin, and Principle of its Propension, but it appeared of its own Accord to present itself to act, as having no need to be joined with any thing else. For against such Adversaries the Combat and Dispute is lawful and just: and 
Such Words, as you have spoken, the like you may  
Expect to hear.—   
For to speak to Colotes of Instinct and Consent, is, I suppose, all one as to play on the Harp before an Ass. But to those, who can give ear, and conceive, it is said, that there are in the Soul three sorts of Motions: the Imaginative, the Appetitive, and the Consenting. As to the Imaginative or the Apprehension, it cannot be taken away, thô one would: for one cannot, when things approach, avoid being informed, and, as it were, moulded by them, and receiving an Impression from them. The Appetitive, being stirred up by the Imaginative, effectually moves Man to that, which is proper and agreeable to his Nature, just as when there is made a Propension and Inclination in the principal and reasonable part. Now those, who withhold their Assent, and doubt of all things, take not away this, but make use of the Appetition or Instinct, naturally conducting every Man to that, which seems convenient for him. What then is the only thing, that they shun? That, in which is bread falsehood and Deceit, that is, Opining, applying and giving their Consent, which is a yielding thrô Weakness to that, which appears, and has not any true Utility. For Action stands in need of two things, to wit, of the Apprehension or Imagination of what is agreeable to Nature, and of the Instinct or Appetition, driving to that, which is so imagined: of which, neither the one nor the other is repugnant to the Retention of Assent. For Reason withdraws us from Opinion, and not from Appetition or Imagination. When therefore that, which is delectable, seems to us to be proper for us, there is no need of Opinion to move and carry us to it, but Appetition immediately exerts itself, which is nothing else but the Motion and Inclination of the Soul. But a Man must have a Sense, as it were of these things, and be Flesh and Blood, and so the Pleasure also will appear to be good. Wherefore also it will seem good to him, who witholds his Assent: for he also participates of Sense, and is made of Flesh and Blood, and as soon as he has conceived an Imagination of Good, desires it, and does all things that it may not escape from him; but, as much as possible he can, he will be, and keep himself with that, which is agreeable to his Nature, being drawn by Natural, and not by Geometrical Constraints. For these goodly, gentle, and tickling Motions of the Flesh, are, without any Teacher, attractive enough of themselves, even as these Men forget not to say, to draw even him, who will not in the least aclowledge and confess, that he is softened and rendered pliable by them. But how comes it to pass, perhaps you will say, that he, who is thus doubtful, and withholds his Assent, hastens not away to the Mountain, instead of going to the Bagnio? or that rising up to go forth into the Market-place, he runs not his Head against the Wall, but takes his way directly to the Door? Do you ask this, who hold all the Senses to be infallible, and the Apprehensions of the Imagination certain and true? 'tis, because the Bagnio appears to him not a Mountain, but a Bagnio, and the Door seems not a Wall, but a Door, and the same is to be said of every other thing. For the Doctrine of Retention does not pervert the Sense; nor by absurd Passions and Motions work in it an Alteration, disturbing the imaginative Faculty, but only takes away Opinions, and for the rest makes use of other things according to their Nature.  
But 'tis impossible, you will say, not to consent to things, that are evident: for to deny such things as are believed, is more absurd, than neither to deny, nor affirm. Who then are they, that call in question things believed, and contend against things, that are evident? They, who overthrow and take away Divination, who say, that there is not any Government of Divine Providence, who deny the Sun and the Moon, to whom all Men offer Sacrifices, and whom they honor and adore, to be animated. And do not you take away that, which is apparent to all the World, that the Young are contained in the Nature of their Parents? Do ye not, contrary to the Sense of all Men, affirm, that there is no Medium between Pleasure and Pain, saying not to be in Pain, is to be in the Fruition of Pleasure, that not to do, is to suffer, and that not to rejoice, is to be grieved? But to let pass all the rest, what is more evident, and more generally believed by all Men, than that those, who are seized with Melancholy Distempers, and whose Brain is troubled, and their Wits distracted, do, when the Fit is on them, and their Understanding altered and transported, imagine, that they see and hear things, which they neither see nor hear? Whence they frequently cry out: 
Women, in Black arrayed, bear in their Hands,  
To burn mine Eyes, Torches and fiery Brands.  And again, See, in her Arms she holds my Mother dear.  
These and many other Illusions, more strange and tragical than these, resembling those Mormoes and Bugbears, which they themselves laugh at and deride, as they are described by Empedocles to be, 
Bow-legg'd, Ram-headed, body'd like an Ox,  
And faced like Man,—  with certain other prodigious and unnatural Phantoms, these Men, having gathered together out of Dreams, and the Alienations of Distracted Minds, affirm, that none of them is a Deception of the Sight, a Falsity, or Inconsistence; but that all these Imaginations are true, being Bodies and Figures; that come from the ambient Air. What thing then is there so impossible in Nature, as to be doubted of, if it is possible to believe such Reveries as these? For these Men, supposing, that such things, as never any Mask-maker, Potter, Framer of wonderful Images, or skilful and all-daring Painter durst join together, to deceive, or make Sport for the Beholders, are seriously, and in good earnest existent, nay, which is more, affirming, that if they are not really so, all Firmness of Belief, all Certainty of judgement and Truth is for ever gone, do by these their Suppositions and Affirmations cast all things into Obscurity, and bring Fears into our Judgments, and Suspicions into our Actions, if those things which we apprehended, do, are familiarly acquainted with, and have at band, are grounded on the same Imagination and Belief with these furious, absurd, and extravagant fancies. For the Equality, which they suppose to be in all Apprehensions, rather derogates from the Credit of such, as are usual and rational, than adds any Belief to those, that are unusual and repugnant to Reason. Wherefore we know many Philosophers, who would rather, and more willingly grant, that no Imagination is true, than that all are so, and that would rather simply disbelieve all the Men, they never had conversed with, all the things, they had not experimented, and all the Speeches, they had not heard with their own Ears, than perswa●● themselves, that any one of these Imaginations, conceived by these frantic, 
The Greek has {αβγδ}, which Xylander ren●ers by Cor●banteo furore exagit●●i, that is, posses'd with such a Fury, as agi●●ted th● Cory●●●tes, or Serv●tors of Cyb●l●, when running like ●ad-men about the Streets, they cut themselves with Knives, struck such, as they met, and committed several other extravagant Actions.  sanatical, and dreaming Persons, is true. Since then there are some Imaginations, which may, and others, which may not be rejected, 'tis lawful for us to retain our Assent concerning them, thô there were no other Cause, but this Discordance, which is sufficient to work in us a Suspicion of things, as having nothing certain and assured, but being altogether full of Obscurity and Perturbation. For in the Infinities of the World, and the Nature of Atoms, and the Differences of Individuums and Declinations, although they trouble and disturb very many, there is yet this Comfort, that none of all these things, that are in question, is near us, but rather every one of them far remote from Sense. But as to this Diffidence, Perplexity, and Ignorance, concerning sensible things and Imaginations, presented to our Eyes, our Ears, and our Hands, what Opinion does it not shock? What Consent does it not turn upside down? For if Men, neither Drunk, Intoxicated, nor otherwise disturbed in their Senses, but sober, sound in Mind, and professedly writing of the Truth, and of the Canons and Rules, by which to judge it, do in the most evident Passions and Motions of the Sense set down either that, which has no Existence, for true, or that, which is existent, for false; 'tis neither to be admired, nor incredible, if they give no judgement of the Imaginations, that appear, but are rather of contrary Judgments. For 'tis less to be wondered, that a Man should neither affirm the one nor the other, but keep himself in a mien between two opposite things, than that he should set down things, repugnant and contrary to one another. For he, that neither affirms nor denys, but keeps himself quiet, is less repugnant to him, who affirms an Opinion, than he, who denies it, and to him who denies an Opinion, than he, who affirms it. Now if 'tis possible to withhold ones Assent concerning these things, 'tis not impossible also concerning others, at least according to your Opinion, who say, that one Sense does not exceed another, nor one Imagination another. The Doctrine then of retaining the Assent, is not, as Colotes thinks, a Fable, or an Invention of rash and light headed Young Men, who please themselves in babbling and prating; but a certain Habit and Disposition of Men, who desire to keep themselves from mistaking and falling into Error, not leaving the judgement at a venture to such suspected and inconstant Senses, nor suffering themselves to be deceived with those, who hold, that things, which appear, are credible, and ought to be believed, as certain, when they see so great an Obscurity and Uncertainty in Imaginations and Appearances. But the Infinity, you assert, is a Fable, and so indeed are the Images, you dream of, and he breeds in Young Men Rashness and Self-conceitedness, who writ of Pythocles, not yet eighteen years of Age, that there was not in all Greece a better or more excellent Nature, that he admirably well expressed his Conceptions, and that his Case was much like that of Women, praying, that all these extraordinary Endowments of the Young Man might not work him Hatred and Envy.  
But these are Sophisters, and arrogant, who writ so impudently and proudly against great and excellent Personages. I confess indeed, that Plato, Aristotle, Theophrastus and Democritus contradicted those, who went before them; but never durs● any Man, besides Colotes, set forth with such an insolent Title, as this, against all at once. Whence it comes to pass, that like to such, as have offended some Divinity, confessing his Fault, he says thus towards the end of his Book: Those, who have established Laws and Ordinances, and instituted Monarchies and other Governments in Towns and Cities, have placed human Life in great Repose and Security, and delivered it from many Troubles; and, if any one should go about to take this away, we should led the Live of savage Beasts, and should be every one ready to eat up one another, as we meet. For these are the very words of Colotes, thô neither justly nor truly spoken. For if any one, taking away the Laws, should leave us nevertheless the doctrines of Parmenides, Socrates, Plato, and Heraclitus, we should be far from mutually devouring one another, and leading the Life of Beasts: for we should fear dishonest things, and should for Honesty alone venerate Justice, the Gods, our superiors, and Magistrates, believing, that we have Spirits and Daemons, who are the Guardians and Superintendents of human Life, esteeming all the Gold, that is upon and within the Earth, not to be equivalent to virtue, and doing that willingly by reason, as Xenocrates says, which we now do by force, and thrô fear of the Law. When then will our Life become savage and bestial? When, the Laws being taken away, there shall be left Books and Doctrines, inciting Men to Pleasure, when the World shall be thought not to be ruled and governed by divine Providence, when those Men shall be esteemed wise, who shall spit at Honesty, if it is not joined with Pleasure, and such Discourses and Sentences, as these, shall be scoffed at, and d●rided: Gods Justice has one Eye, which all things sees: And again: God near us stands, and views, what ere we do: And once more: God, as Antiquity has delivered to us, holding the Beginning, Middle and End of the Universe, makes a direct Line, walking according to Nature. After him follows Justice, a Punisher of those, who have been deficient in their Duties by trangressing the divine Law. For they, who contemn these things, as if they were Fables, and think, that the sovereign Good of Man consists about the Belly, and in those other Labours, by which Pleasure is procured, are such as stand in need of the Law, and Fear, and Stripes, and some King, Prince, or Magistrate, having in his hand the Sword of Justice: to the end they may not devour their Neighbours thrô their Gluttony, rendered confident by their Atheistical Impiety. For this is the Life of Brutes, because brute Beasts know nothing better, nor more honest then Pleasure, understand not the Justice of the Gods, nor revere the Beauty of virtue, but if Nature has bestowed on them any Point of Courage, subtlety, or Activity, they make use of it for the Satisfaction of their fleshly Pleasure, and the Accomplishment of their Lusts. And therefore Metrodorus is esteemed by them a very wise Man, when he says; All the sine, subtle, and ingenious Inventions of the Soul have been found out for the Pleasure and Delight of the Flesh, or for the Hopes of attaining to it and enjoying it, and every Act, which tends not to this End, is vain and unprofitable. The Laws being by such Discourses and Philosophical Reasons, as these, taken away, there wants nothing to a beast like Life, but Lions Paws, Wolves Teeth, Oxens Paunches, and Camels Necks: and these Passions and doctrines do the Beasts themselves for want of Speech and Letters express by their Bellowings, Neighings, and Brayings, all their Voice being for their Belly, and the Pleasure of their Flesh, which they embrace and rejoice in either present or future; unless it be perhaps some Animal, which naturally takes Delight in Chattering and Garrulity. No sufficient Praise therefore, or equivalent to their Deserts, can be given those, who, for the restraining of such bestial Passions, have set down Laws, established Policy and Government of State, instituted Magistrates, and ordained good and wholesome Decrees.  
But who are they, that utterly confounded and abolish this? Are they not those, who say, that the Garland of Tranquillity and a reposed Life is not comparable to, but far more valuable than all the Kingdoms and Principalities in the World? Are they not those, who declare, that Reigning and being a King is a mistaking the Path, and straying from the right way of Felicity? And who writ in express Terms: We are to treat, how a Man may best keep and preserve the End of Nature, and how he may from the very Beginning avoid entering of his own Free-will and voluntarily upon Offices of Magistracy, and Government over the People: And yet again these other Words are theirs: There is no need at all that a Man should tyre out his Mind and Body to preserve the Greeks, and to obtain from them a Crown of Wisdom; but to eat and drink well, o Timocrates, without prejudicing, but rather pleasing the Flesh. And yet in the Constitution of Laws and Policy, which Colotes so much praises, the first and most important Article is the Belief and persuasion of the Gods: wherefore also Lycurgus heretofore sanctified the lacedæmonians, Numae the Romans, the ancient Ion the Athenians, and Deucalion universally all the Greeks, by rendering them devout and affectionate to the Gods in Prayers, Oaths, Oracles, and Prophesies, by means of the Hope and Fear, they imprinted in their Minds. And if you will take the Pains to travail thrô the World, you may find Towns and Cities without Walls, without Letters, without Kings, without Houses, without Wealth, without Money, without theaters and Places of Exercise; but there was never seen nor shall be seen by Man any one City without Temples and Gods, or without making use of Prayers, Oaths, Prophesies, and Sacrifices for the obtaining of Blessings and Benefits, and the averting of Curses and Calamities. Nay I am of Opinion, that a City might sooner be built without any Ground, to fix it on, than a Common-weal be constituted, altogether voided of Religion, and the Opinion of the Gods, or being constituted, be preserved. But this, which is the Foundation and Ground of all Laws, do these Men, not going circularly about, nor secretly and by enigmatical Speeches, but attacking it with the first of their most principal Opinions, directly subvert and overthrow: and then afterwards, as if they were haunted by the Furies, they come, and confess, that they have grievously offended in thus taking away the Laws, and confounding the Ordinances of Justice and Policy, that they may not be capable of Pardon. For to err in Opinion, thô it be not the part of wise Men, is at least human; but to impute to others the Errors and Offences, they commit themselves, how can any one declare, what it is, if he forbears to give it the Name, it deserves? For if in writing against Antidorus, or Bion, the Sophister, he had made mention of Laws, Policy, Order, and Justice, might not either of them have said to him, as Electea did to her mad Brother Orestes: lie still at ease, poor wretch, keep in thy Bed, and there cherish thy Corpusculum, leaving those to expostulate and find fault with me, who have themselves lived oeconomically and politically? Now such are all those, whom Colotes has reviled and railed at in his Book.  
Amongst whom Democritus in his Writings advices, and exhorts to the Learning of the military Science, as being the greatest of all, and to the accustoming ones self to bear the Fatigues of it, by which Men attain to great Wealth and Honor. And as for Parmenides, he beautified and adorned his native Country with most excellent Laws, which he there established, so that even to this Day the Officers every year, when they enter first on the Exercise of their Charges, are obliged to swear, that they will observe the Laws and Ordinances of Parmenides. Empedocles brought to Justice some of the principal of his City, and caused them to be condemned for their insolent behaviour, and embezzling of the public Treasure, and also delivered his Country from Sterility and the Plague, to which Calamities it was before subject, by immuring and stoping up the Holes of certain Mountains, whence there issued an hot South-wind, which overspread all the plain Country, and blasted it. And Socrates, after he was condemned, when his Friends offered him, if he pleased, an Opportunity of making his Escape, absolutely refused to make use of it, that he might maintain the Authority of the Laws, choosing rather to dy unjustly, than to save himself by disobeying the Laws of his Country, Melissus, being Praetor, or Captain General of his country, vanquished the Athenians in a Battle at Sea. Plato left in his Writings excellent Discourses concerning the Laws, Government, and Policy of a Commonweal, and yet he imprinted much better in the Hearts and Minds of his Disciples and Familiars, which were the Cause of Dions delivering Sicily from the Tyranny of Dionysius, and that Thrace was set at liberty by Pytho and Heraclides, who slay Cotys. Chabrias also and photion, those two great Generals of the Athenians, came out of the Academy; or Plato's School. As for Epicurus he indeed sent certain Persons into Asia to chide Timocrates, and removed him out of the Kings Palace, because he had offended his Brother Metrodorus; and this is written in their own Books. But Plato sent of his Disciples and Friends Aristonymus to the Arcadians, to set in order their Commonweal, Phormio to the Eleaeans, and Menedemus to the Pyrrhaeans. Eudoxus gave Laws to the Cnidians, and Aristotle to the Stagirites, who were both of them the Intimates of Plato. And Alexander the great demanded of Xenocrates Rules and Precepts for reigning well. And he, who was sent to the same Alexander by the Grecians, dwelling in Asia, and most of all inflamed and stimulated him to embrace and undertake the War against the Barbarian King of Persia, was Delius the Ephesian, one of Plato's Familiars. Zeno, the Disciple of Parmenides, having attempted to kill the Tyrant Demylus, and failing in his Design, maintained the doctrine of Epimenides, like pure and fine Gold, tried in the Fire, that there is nothing, which a magnanimous Man ought to dread, but dishonour, and that there are none, but Children and Women, or effeminate and women-hearted Men, who fear Pain: for having with his own Teeth bitten off his Tongue, he spit it in the Tyrants Face. But out of the School of Epicurus, and from among those, who follow his doctrine, I will not ask, what Tyrant-killer has proceeded, nor yet what Man, valiant and victorious in Feats of Arms, what Lawgiver, what Prince, what councillor, or what Governor of the People; neither will I demand, who of them has been tormented or died for supporting of Right and Justice. But which of all these Sages has for the Benefit and Service of his C●untrey undertaken so much as one Voyage at Sea, gone of an Embassy, or expended a Sum of Money? What Record is there extant of one Civil Action in matter of Government, performed by any of you? And yet because Metrodorus went down one day from the City as far as the Haven of Pyreum, taking a Journey of forty Stadia or four or five Miles, to assist Mithres a Syrian, one of the King of Persians Court, who had been arrested and taken Prisoner, he writ of it to every one, and in all his Letters, Epicurus also highly manifying and extoling this wonderful Voyage. What value then, think you▪ would they have put upon it, if they had done such an Act, as Aristotle did, who procured the Restauration and Rebuilding of Stagira, the Town of his Nativity, after it had been destroyed by King Philip, or as Theophrastus, who twice delivered his City, when possessed and held by Tyrants? Would not the Rlver Nilus sooner have given over to bear the Paper-reed, than they have been weary of writing their brave Exploits?  
And is it not a very great Indignity, that of so many Sects of Philosophers, as have been extant, they alone should enjoy the Benefits, that are in Cities, without having ever contributed to them any thing of their own? There are not even any Tragical or Comical Poets, who do not always endeavour to do or say some good thing or other in defence of the Laws and Policy: But these Men, if peradventure they writ, writ of Policy, that we may not concern ourselves in the Government of the Commonweal; of rhetoric, that we may not perform any Act of Eloquence; and of Royalty, that we may shun the Living and Conversing with Kings: nor do they ever name any of those great Personages, who have intermeddled in Civil Affairs, but only to scoff at them, and abolish their Glory. Thus in Words alone do they say, that Epaminondas had something of Good, but that as little as possible, or {αβγδ}, for that is the very word, they use: they moreover call him iron-hearted, and ask, what ailed him, that he went marching his Army thrô all Peloponnesus, and why he did not rather keep himself quiet at home with a little Garland or Chaplet on his head, employed only in cherishing and making much of himself. But methinks I ought not in this Place to omit, what Metrodorus writ in his Book of Philosophy, when utterly abjuring all meddling in the Management of the State, he said thus: Some thrô an Abundance of Vanity and Arrogance have so deep an Insight into the Business of it, that in treating about the Precepts of good Life and virtue, they suffer themselves to be carried away with the very same Desires, as were Lycurgus and Solon. What is this? Was it then Vanity, and Abundance of Vanity, to set free the City of Athens, to render Sparta well-policy'd and governed by wholesome Laws, that young Men might do nothing licentiously, nor get Children upon common Courtesans and Whores, and that Riches, Delights, Intemperance, and Dissolution, might no longer bear sway, and have Command in Cities, but Law and Justice? For these were the Desires of Solon. To this Metrodorus by way of Scorn and Contumely adds this Conclusion: It is then very well beseeming a Gentleman to laugh hearty, as at other Men, so especially at these Solons and Lycurguses. But such an one, o Metrodorus, is not a Gentleman, but a servile, and dissolute Person, and deserves to be scourged, not with that Whip, which is for free-born Persons, but with that 
This was a Scourge of several Strings, at the Ends of which were fastened Ankle-bones, called Astragali, to render it more smarting.  Astragalote or Cat-of-nine-tails, with which those gelded Sacrificers, called 
These were the furious Priests of Cybele, supposed to be so called from the River Gallus, by the liberal Drinking of whose Water they fell mad, and castrated themselves.  Galli, were wont to be chastised, when they failed of performing their Duty in the Ceremonies and Sacrifices of the Goddess Cybele, the great Mother of the Gods. But that they made War not against the Lawgivers, but against the Laws themselves, one may hear and understand from Epicurus: for in his Questions he asks himself; Whether a wise Man, being assured, that it will not be known, will do any thing, that the Laws forbid: to which he answers: A simplo Determination is not ready, that is, I will do it indeed; but I am not willing to confess it. And again, I suppose, writing to Idomeneus, he exhorts him not to make his Life a Slave to the Laws, nor to the Opinions of Men, unless it be to avoid the Trouble, they prepare, by the Scourge and Chastisement, so near at hand. If then those, who abolish the Laws, Governments, and Policies of Men, subvert and destroy human Life, and if Metrodorus and Epicurus do this by dehorting and withdrawing their Friends from concerning themselves in public Affairs, by hating those, who intermeddle in them, by reviling the first most wise Lawgivers, and by advising the Contempt of the Laws, provided there is no Fear and Danger of the Whip and Punishment, I do not see, that Colotes has brought so many false Accusations against the other Philosophers, as he has alleged and advanced true ones against the Writings and doctrines of Epicurus.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V. Plutarch's  
Consolatory Letter to his Wife.  Translated out of the Greek by Robert Midgley, M. D.& Col. Med. land. Cand. Plutarch to his Wife, All Health: 
AS for the Messenger you dispatched to tell me of the Death of my little Daughter, it seems he missed his way as he was going to Athens. But when I came to Tanagra, I heard of it by my niece. I suppose by this time the Funeral is over. I wish, that whatever happens as well now as hereafter, may create you no Dissatisfaction. But if you have designedly let any thing alone, depending upon my judgement, thinking better to determine the point if I were with you, I pray let it be without Ceremony and timorous Superstition, which I know are far from you. Only, dear Wife, let you and me bear our Affliction with Patience. I know very well, and do comprehend, what a loss we have had; but if I should find you grieve beyond Measure, this would trouble me more than the thing itself; for I had my Birth neither from a Stock nor a ston; and you know it full well, I having been assistant to you in the Education of so many Children, which we brought up at Home under our own Care. This much-lamented Daughter, was born after four Sons, which made me call her by your own Name; therefore I know she was dear to you, and Grief must have a peculiar Pungency in a Mind tenderly affectionate to Children, when you call to Mind how naturally witty and innocent she was, voided of Anger and not querelous. She was naturally mildred, and compassionate to a Miracle. And she showed Delight in, and gave a Specimen of her Humanity and Gratitude towards any thing that had obliged her; for she would pray her Nurse to give suck, not only to other Children, but to her very play-things, as it were courteously inviting them to her Table, and making the best cheer for them she could. Now, my dear Wife, I see no Reason why these and the like things, which delighted us so much when she was alive, should upon Remembrance of them afflict us when she is dead. But I also fear, lest while we cease from Sorrowing, we should forget her, as Clymene said, 
I hate the handy horned Bow,  
And banish Youthful Pastimes now:  because she would not be put in Mind of her Son, by the Exercises he had been used to. For Nature always shuns such things as are troublesone. But since our little Daughter afforded all our Sences the sweetest and most charming Pleasure; so ought we to cherish her Memory, which will many Ways conduce more to our Joy than our Grief. And it is but just, that the same Arguments which we have oft-times used to others, should prevail upon ourselves at this so seasonable a time, and that we should not supinely sit down, and overwhelm the Joys which we have tasted, with a Multiplicity of new Griefs. Moreover, they who were present at the Funeral, report this with Admiration, That you neither put on Mourning, nor disfigured yourself or any of your Maids; neither were there any costly Preparations nor magnificent Pomp, but that all things were managed with Prudence and Moderation. And it seemed not strange to me, that you, who never used richly to dress yourself, for the Theatre or other Public Solemnities, esteeming such Magnificence vain and useless even in Matters of Delight, have now practised Frugality on this funest Occasion. For, a virtuous Woman ought not only to preserve her Purity in Riotous Feasts, but also to think thus with her self, That the Tempest of the Mind in violent Grief must be calmed by Patience; which does not entrench on the Natural Love of Parents towards their Children, as many think, but only struggles against the disorderly and irregular Passions of the Mind. For, we allow this Love of Children to discover itself, in lamenting, wishing for and longing after them when they are dead. But the excessive Inclination to Grief, which carries People on to unseemly Exclamations and furious Behaviour, is no less culpable, than luxurious Intemperance. Yet Reason seems to pled in its Excuse; because, instead of Pleasure, Grief and Sorrow are Ingredients of the Crime. What can be more Irrational, I pray, than to check excessive Laughter and Joy, and yet to give a free Course to Rivers of Tears and Sighs, which flow from the same Fountain? Or, as some do quarrel with their Wives for using some Artificial Helps to Beauty; and in the mean time suffer them to shave their Heads, wear the mournful Black, sit disconsolate, and lye in pain? and, which is worst of all, if their Wives at any time chastise their Servants or Maids immoderately, they will interpose and hinder them; but, at the same time suffering them to torment and punish themselves most cruelly, in a Case which peculiarly requires their greatest. Tenderness and Humanity? But between us, dear Wife, there never was any Occasion for such Contests, nor, I think, ever will. For there is no Philosopher of your Acquaintance, who is not in love with your Frugality, both in Apparel and Diet; nor a Citizen, to whom the Simplicity and Meanness of your Dress is not conspicuous, both at Religious Sacrifices, and Public shows in the Theatre. Formerly also, you discovered on the like Occasion, a great Constancy of Men, when you lost your Eldest Son. And again, when the lovely Charon left us. For I remember, when the News was brought me of my Sons Death, as I was returning Home with some Friends and Guests who accompanied me to my House, that when they beholded all Things in Order, and observed a profound Silence every where,( as they afterwards declared to others) they thought no such Calamity had happened, but that the Report was false. So discreetly had you settled the Aff●irs of the House, at that Time when no small Confusion and Disorder might have been expec●ed. And yet you gave this Son suck yourself, and endured the lancing of your Breast, to prevent the ill Effects of a Contusion. These are Things worthy of a generous Woman, and one that loves her Children. Whereas, we see most other Women to receive their Children in their Hands as Play-things, with a Feminine Mirth and Jollity, and afterwards, if they chance to die, they will drench themselves in the most vain and excessive So● owe. Not that this is any Effect of their Love( for th●t gentle Passion acts regularly and discreetly) but it rather proceeds from a Desire of Vain-glory, mixed with a little Natural Affection, which renders their Mourning barbarous, brutish and extravagant. Which Thing Aesop knew very well, when he tells the Story of Jupiter's giving Honours to the Gods; for, it seems, Grief also made her Demands, and it was granted that she should be honoured, but only by those who were willing of their own Accord to do it. And indeed, this is the Beginning of Sorrow. Every Body first gives her free Access; and after she is once rooted and settled, and become familiar, she will not be forced thence with their best endeavours. Therefore she must be resisted at her first Approach, nor must we surrender the Fort to her by any exterior Signs, whether of Apparel, or shaving the Hair, or any other such like Symptoms of mournful Weakness; which happening daily, and wounding us by Degrees with a kind of foolish Bashfulness, at length do so enervate the Mind, and reduce her to such Streights, that quiter dejected and besieged with Grief, the poor timorous Wretch dare not be merry, or see the light, or eat and drink in Company. This Inconvenience is accompanied by a Neglect of the Body, carelessness of Anointing and Bathing, with whatsoever else relates to the Elegancy of Human Life. Whereas, on the contrary, the Soul, when it is disordered, ought to receive Aid from the vigour of a healthful Body. For, the sharpest Edge of the Souls Grief, is rebated and slack'd when the Body is in tranquillity and Ease, like the Sea in a Calm. But where, from an ill Course of Diet, the Body becomes dry and hot, so that it cannot supply the Soul with commodious and serene Spirits, but only breaths forth Melancholy vapours and Exhalations, which perpetually annoy her with Grief and Sadness; there it is difficult for a Man( tho never so willing and desirous) to recover the Tranquillity of his Mind, after it has been disturbed with so many evil Affections. But, that which is most to be dreaded in this Case, does not at all affrighten me, to wit, the Visits of foolish Women, and their accompanying you in your Tears and Lamentations; by which they sharpen your Grief, not suffering it either of itself, or by the Help of others, to fade and vanish away. For, I am not ignorant how great a Combat you lately entred, when you assisted the Sister of Theon, and opposed the Women who came running in with horrid Cries and Lamentations, bringing fuel as it were to her Passion. Assuredly, when Men see their Neighbors House on Fire, every one contributes his utmost to quench it: but when they see the Mind inflamed with furious Passion, they bring fuel to nourish and increase the flamme. When a Man's Eye is in pain, he is not suffered to touch it, tho the Inflammation provoke him to it, nor will they that are near him meddle with it. But he who is gauled with Grief, sits and exposes his Distemper to every one, like Waters that all may poach in; and so that which at first seemed a light Itching, or trivial Smart, by much freting and provoking, becomes a great and almost incurable Disease. But, I know very well, that you will arm yourself against these Inconveniences. Moreover, I would have you endeavour to call often to Mind that Time, when our Daughter was not as yet born to us; then we had no cause to complain of Fortune. Then, joining that Time with this, argue thus with yourself, that we are now in the same Condition as then. Otherwise, dear Wife, we shall seem discontented at the Birth of our little Daughter, if we own that our Circumstances were better before her Birth. But the two Years of her Life, are by no means to be forgotten by us, but to be numbered amongst our Blessings, in that they afforded us an agreeable Pleasure. Nor must we esteem a small Good for a great Evil; nor ungratefully complain against Fortune, for what she has actually given us, because she has not added what we wished for. Certainly, to speak reverently of the Gods, and to bear our Lot with an even Mind, without accusing Fortune, always brings with it a fair Reward. But he who in such a Case calls prosperous Things to Mind, and turning his Thoughts from dark and melancholy Objects, fixes them on bright and cheerful ones; he wil● either quiter extinguish his Grief, or by allaying it with contrary Sentiments, will render it weak and feeble. For, as a Perfume brings Delight to the Nose, and arms it against ill Scents; so, the Remembrance of Happiness gives necessary Assistance in Adversity to those who avoid not the Recollection of their past Prosperity, nor complain at all against Fortune, which certainly would little become us, to accuse our Life, if like a Book it hath but one little Blot in it, tho all the rest be fair and clean. For you have oftentimes heard, that true Happiness consists in the right Discourses and Counsels of the Mind, tending to its own constant Establishment; and that the Changes of Fortune are of no great Importance to the Felicity of our Life. But yet, if we must also be governed by exterior things, and with the common Sort of People have a Regard to Casualties, and suffer any kind of Men to be judges of our Happiness; however, do not you take notice of the Tears and Moans of such as visit you at present, condoling your Misfortune; for, their Tears and Sighs are but of Course. But rather, do you consider how happy every one of them esteems you, for the Children you have, the House you keep, and the Life you led For it would be an ill thing, while others covet your Fortune, though sullied with this Affliction, that you should exclaim against what you enjoy; and not be sensible from this taste of Affliction how grateful you ought to be for the Happiness which remains untouched. Or, like some, who collecting all the Defective Verses of Homer, ●●●●'d over at the same time so many excellent Parts of ●●s Poems, so shall we peevishly complain of and reckon up the ●nconveniencies of our Life, neglecting at the ●●me time promiscuously the Benefits thereof? Or, shall we imitate covetous and sordid Misers, who having heaped together much Riches, never enjoy what they have in Possession, but bewail it if it chance to be lost?  
But if you ●ament the poor Girl, because she died unmarried and without Off-spring; you have wherewithal to comfort yourself, in that you are defective in none of these Things, having had your share. And these are not to be esteemed great Evils where they are wanted, and small Benefits where they are enjoyed. But so long as she is gone to a Place where she feels no Pain, she has no need of our Grief. For, what Harm can befall us from her, when she is free from all Hurt? And surely the Loss of great Things abates its Grief, when it is come to this, that there is no more Ground of Grief or Care for them. But thy Timoxena was deprived but of small Matters; for, she had no Knowledge but of such, neither took she delight but in such small Things. But for that which she never was sensible of, nor so much as once did enter into her Thoughts, how can you say it is taken from her?  
As for what you hear others say, who persuade the Vulgar, that the Soul when once freed from the Body suffers no Inconvenience or Evil, nor is sensible at all, I know that you are better grounded in the Doctrines delivered down to us from our Ancestors, as also in the Sacred Mysteries of Bacchus, than to believe such Stories; for, the Religious Symbols are well known to us who are of the Fraternity. Therefore be assured, that the Soul being incapable of Death, suffers in the same Manner as Birds that are kept in a Cage. For, if she has been a long time educated and cherished in the Body, and by long Custom has been made familiar with most Things of this Life, she will( though separable) return again, and at length enter the Body; nor ceaseth it by new Births now and then to be entangled in the Chances and Events of this Life. For, do not think that Old Age, is therefore evil spoken of and blamed, because it is accompanied with Wrinkles, Gray-Hairs, and Weakness of Body: but this is the most troublesone thing in Old Age, that it staineth and corrupteth the Soul with the Remembrance of Things relating to the Body, to which she was too much addicted; thus it bendeth and boweth, retaining that Form which it took of the Body. But that which is taken away in Youth, being more soft and tractable, soon returns to its native vigour and Beauty just like Fire that is quenched, which if it be forthwith kindled again, sparkles and burns out immediately, 
As soon as e're we take our Breath,  
'twere good to pass the Gates of Death,  before too great a Love of bodily and earthly things be engendered in the Soul, and it become soft and tender by being used to the Body, and as it were by Charms and Potions incorporated with it. But, the Truth of this will appear in the Laws and Traditions received from our Ancestors: for, when any Children die, no Libations nor Sacrifices are made for them, nor any other of those Ceremonies which are wont to be performed for the Dead. For, Infants have no part of Earth or Earthly Affections. Nor do they hover or ●arry about their sepulchers or Monuments, when their dead Bodies are exposed. The Religion of our Country teaches us otherwise, and it is an Impious Thing not to believe what our Laws and Traditions assert, That the Souls of Infants pass immediately into a better and more Divine State. Wherefore, since it is safer to give Credit to our Traditions, than to call them in Question, let us comply with the Custom in outward and public Behaviour; and let our interior, be more unpolluted, pure and holy.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Of the three sorts of Government, Monarchy, Democracy, Oligarchy.  Translated out of the Greek by R. Smith M. A. 
AS I was considering with myself to bring forth and propose to the judgement of this worthy Company the Discourse, I held yesterday in your Presence, methoughts, I heard Political virtue, I know not whether in the Illusion of a Dream, or in a true and real Vision, say thus to me: A golden Ground is laid for sacred Songs. We have already laid the Foundation of the Discourse by persuading and exhorting persons to concern themselves in managing the Affairs of the Commonweal, and now we proceed to build upon it the doctrine, which is due after such an Exhortation. For after a Man has received an Admonition and Exhortation to deal in the Affairs of the State, there ought consequently to be given him Precepts of Government, following and observing which, he may, as much as 'tis possible for a Man to do, profit the Public, and in the mean time honestly prosecute his own Affairs with such Safety and Honor, as shall be meet for him.  
There is first then one Point to be discoursed, which, as it is precedent to what we have hereafter to say, so it depends on what we have already said before. Now this is, what sort of Policy and Government is best: for as there are many Sorts of Lives in particular Men, so also are there in People and States; and the Life of a People or State is its Policy and Government. 'tis therefore necessary to declare, which is the best, that a Statesman may choose it from among the rest, or, if that is impossible for him to do, he may at least take that, which has the nearest Resemblance to the best.  
Now there is one Signification of this Word Policy, which imports as much as Burgess-ship, that is a Participation in the Rights and privileges, belonging to a Town, City, or Borough: as when we say, that the Megarians by an Edict of their City presented Alexander the Great with their Policy, that is, their Burgess-ship, and that, Alexander laughing at the Offer they made him of it, they answered him, that they had never decreed that Honor to any but Hercules, and now to himself. This he wondering to hear, accepted their Present, thinking it honourable, inasmuch as it was rare. The Life also of a political Person, who is concerned in the Government of the Commonweal, is called Policy, as when we praise the Policy of Pericles or Bias, that is, the manner of their Government, and on the contrary, blame that of Hyperbolus and clear. Some moreover there are, who call a great and memorable Action, performed in the Administration of the Commonweal, a Policy, such as is the Distribution of Money, the Suppressing of a War, the Introduction of some notable Decree, worthy to be kept in perpetual Memory. In which Signification 'tis a common manner of speaking to say, This Man to day has done a Policy, if he has peradventure effected some remarkable Matter in the Government of the State.  
Besides all these Significations there is yet another, that is, the Order and State by which a Commonweal is governed, and by which Affairs are managed and administered. According to which we say, that there are three sorts of Policy, or public Government, to wit, Monarchy, which is Regality or Kingship; Oligarchy, which is the Government by Peers and Nobles; and Democracy, which is a popular, or, as we term it, a free State. Now all these are mentioned by Herodotus in his third Book, where he compares them one with another. And these seem to be the most general of all: for that all other Sorts are, as it were, the Depravation or Corruption of these, either by Defect, or Excess, as it is in the first Consonances of music, when the Strings are either too streight or too slacken.  
Now these Three Sorts of Government have been distributed amongst the Nations, that have had the greatest Empire, or greater than any other. Thus the Persians enjoyed Regality or Kingship, because their King had full and absolute Power in all things, without being liable to render an Account to any one. The Spartans had a Council, consisting of a small Number, and those the best and most considerable Persons in the City, who dispatched all Affairs. The Athenians maintained popular Government, free and exempt from any other Mixture. In which Administration when there are any Faults, their Transgressions and Exorbitancies are styled Tyrannies, Oppressions of the Stronger, unbridled Licentiousness of the Multitude. That is, when the Prince, who has the Royalty, permits himself to outrage whom ever he pleases, and will not suffer any Remonstrance to be made him concerning it, he becomes a Tyrant: When a few Lords or Senators, in whose Hands the Government is, arrive at that Arrogance as to contemn all others, they turn Oppressors: And when a popular State breaks forth into Disobedience and leveling, it runs into Anarchy and unmeasurable Liberty: and in a word, all of them together will be Rashness and Folly.  
Even then as a skilful Musician will make use of all sorts of Instruments, and play on every one of them, accommodating himself in such manner, as its Quality can bear, and as shall be fit to make it yield the sweetest Sound; but yet, if he will follow Plato's Counsel, he will lay-aside Fiddles, many stringed Virginals, Psalteries, and Harps, preferring before all other the Lute and Bandore. In like manner, an able Statesman will dexterously manage the laconic, and Lycurgian signory, or Oligarchy, fitting and accommodating his Companions, who are of equal Authority with him, and by little and little drawing and reducing them to be managed by himself: he will also carry himself discreetly in a Popular State, as if he had to deal with an Instrument of many and differently sounding Strings, one while letting down and remitting some things, and again extending others, as he shall see his Opportunity, and find it most convenient for the Government, to which he will vigorously apply himself, well knowing, when and how he ought to resist and contradict; but yet, if he might be permitted to make his Choice from amongst all sorts of Government, as from so many Musical Instruments, he would not, if Plato's Advice might be taken, choose any other but Monarchy, or Regal Authority, as being that, which is indeed only able to support that most perfect and most lofty Note of Vertuè, without suffering him, either by Force, or by Grace and favour, to frame himself for Advantage and Gain. For all other sorts of Government, do in a manner as much rule a Statesman, as he does them, no less carrying him, than they are carried by him; forasmuch as he has no certain Power over those, from whom he has his Authority; but is very often constrained to cry out in these Words of the Poet Aeschylus, which King Demetrius, surnamed the Town-taker, often alleged against Fortune, after he had lost his Kingdom; Thou mad'st me first, and now undoest me quiter.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V. Whether the Athenians  
were more renowned for their Warlike achievements, or for their Learning.  Translated out of the Greek by the same Hand. 
THese things he rightly spoken to the Commanders that accompanied him, to whom he opened the way for future Performances, while he expelled the Barbarians, and restored Greece to her Ancient Liberty. And the same thing may be said to those that magnify themselves for their Writings. For if there were none to act, there would be none to writ. Take away the Political Government of Pericles, and the Naval Trophies of Formio at Rium, and the brave achievements of Nicias at Cythera, Megara and Corinth, Demosthenes's Pylum, and the four hundred Captives taken by Cleo, Tolmias sailing round the Peleponnesus, and Myronidas vanquishing the Boeotians in the Vineyards, and you Murder Thucydides. Take away the youthful Braveries of Alcibiades in the Hellespont, and of Thrasyllus near Lesbos, and the Dissolution of the Oligarchy by Theramenes, Thrasybulus, and Archippus, and the Seventy that from Phyla ventured to attack the Lacedemonian Tyranny, and Conon again enforcing Athens to take the Sea, and then there's an end of Cratippus. For as for Xenophon, he was his own Historian, relating how he led and governed the Army under his Command, and Themistogenes the Syracusian wrote the same Story over again, dedicating the Honour of his Writing to another, that writing of himself as of another he might gain the more Credit: But all the other Historians, as the Clinodemi, Dyuli, Philochorus, Philarchus, were but the Actors of other Mens Amours, as of so many Plays, while they compiled the Acts of Kings and great Generals, and thrusting themselves into the Memory of their famed, partake of a kind of Lustre and Light from them. For there is a certain shadow of Glory which reflects from those that act to those that writ, while the Actions of another appear in the Discourse as in a mirror.  
But this City was the Mother and charitable Nurse of many other Arts and Sciences, some of which she first invented and illustrated; to others she gave both Efficacy, Honour, and Increase: More especially to her is Painting beholding for its first Invention and the Perfection to which it has attained. For Apollodorus the Painter, who was the first that invented the heightening and softening of Shadows, was an Athenian. Over whose Works there is this Inscription, 
'tis no hard thing to reprehend me,  
But let the Men that blame me, mend me.  Then for Euphranor, Nikias, Aschepiodorus, and Plestaenelus the Brother of Phidias, some of them painted the Victories, others the Battles of Great Generals, and some of them the Hero's themselves. Thus Euphranor, comparing his own Theseus with another drawn by Parrhasius, said that Parrhasius's Theseus eat Roses, but his fed upon Beef. For indeed Parrhasius's Piece was somewhat softly and effeminately painted, and perhaps it might be something like the Original. But he that beholded Euphranor's Theseus, might well say, 
Who's Here, the brave and bold Erechtheu's Son  
Whom Pallas bread, and cherished as her own?  Euphranor also painted the Battle of mantinaea fought by the Cavalry between the Lacedemonians and Epaminondas. The Story was thus. The Theban Epaminondas, puffed up with his Victory at Leuctrae, and designing to insult and trample over falling Sparta, and the Glory of that City, with an Army of Seventy Thousand Men, invaded and laid waste the Lacedemonian Territory, stirred up the Neighbouring Cities to revolt, and not far from mantinaea provoked the Spartans to Battle; but they neither being willing, nor indeed daring to encounter him, being in expectations of a reinforcement from Athens, Epaminondas disl●dg'd in the night time, and with all the secrecy imaginable f●ll into the Lacedemonian Territory; and missed but little of taking Sparta itself being destitute of Men to defend it, had not the Allies of the Lacedemonians made hast to its Relief. Thereupon Epaminondas made a show as if he would again return to spoiling and laying wast the C●●●try; and by this means deceiving and amusing his Enemies, he retreats out of Laconia by Night, and with swift Marches coming upon the Mantineans unexpectedly, at what time they were deliberating ●o sand Relief to Sparta, presently Commanded the Thebans to prepare to storm the Town. As soon, the Thebans, who had a great Conceit of their Warlike Furniture, took their several Posts and began to surround the City. This put the Mantineans into a dismal Consternation, and filled the whole City with dreadful Outcries and hurly burly, as being neither able to withstand such a Torrent of armed Men ready to rush in upon them, nor having any hopes of succour.  
But at the same time and by good Fortune, the Athenians came down from the Hills into the Plains of mantinaea, not knowing any thing of the Critical Moment that required more speedy hast, but marching leisurely along. However so soon as they were informed of the danger of their Allies by one that scouted out from the rest, tho but few in respect of the number of their Enemies, single of themselves, and tired with their March; yet they presently drew up into Battalia, and the Cavalry charging up to the very Gates of mantinaea, there happened a terrible Battle between the Horse on both sides, wherein the Athenians got the better; and so saved mantinaea out of Epaminondas's Hands. This Conflict was painted by Euphranor, and you see in the Picture with what strength, what fury and vigour they fought. And yet I do not believe that any one will compare the judgement of the Painter with that of the General; or would endure that any one should prefer the Picture before the Trophic, or the imitation before the Truth itself. Though indeed, Simonides calls Painting silent Poetry, and Poetry, Speaking Painting. For those Actions which Painters set forth as they were doing, those History relates as they were done. And what the one sets forth in Colours and Figures, the other relates in Words and Sentences; only they differ in the Materials and manner of Imitation. However both aim at the same end, and he is accounted the best Historian who can make the most lively Descriptions both of Persons and Passions. Therefore Thucydides always drives at this Perspicuity, to make the Hearer as it were a Spectator, and to inculcate the same Passions and Perturbations of Mind into his Readers, as they were in, that beholded the Causes of those Effects. For Demosthenes embattelling the Athenians near the Rocky-shoar of Pyla, Brasidas hastening the Pilot to put out to Sea; then going to the Rowers-seats, wounded, fainting, and leaning on that part of the Vessel where the Oars could not trouble him; the Land-Fight of the Spartans from the Sea, and the Sea-Engagement of the Athenians from the Land; then again in the Sicilian-War, both a Land-Fight and Sea-Engagement, so fought that neither had the better; all these things are so lively and sensibly described, that the Reader feels almost the same Motions and Contentions of the Body, as if he had been present and beholded the Actions themselves. So that if we may not compare Painters with Generals, neither must we equal Historians to them.  
Thersippus the Eroensian, brought the first News of the Victory at Marathon, as Heraclides of Pontus relates. But most report, that Eucles running Armed with his Wounds reeking from the Fight, and falling through the Door into the first House he met, expired with only these Words in his Mouth, God save ye, we are well. Now this Man brought the News himself of the success of a Fight wherein he was present in Person. But suppose that any of the Goat-keepers or Herds-men had beholded the Combat from some High-hill, at a distance, and seeing the success of that great Atcheivment, and greater than by Words can be expressed, should have come to the City, without any Wound or Blood about him, and should have claimed the Honours done to Cynegyrus, Callimachus, and Polyzetus, for giving an account of their Wounds, their Bravery, and Deaths, wouldst thou not have thought him Impudent above Impudence itself? Seeing that the Lacedemonians gave the Messenger that brought the News of the Victory at mantinaea, no other reward, then a quantity of Victuals from the 
Place where the Lacedemonians banqueted in public with great parsimony and Frugality.  Phidition. But Historians are, as it were, well voic'd Relators of the Actions of Great Men, who add Grace and Beauty, and Dint of wit to their Relations, and to whom they that first light upon them and red them, are indebted for their pleasing tidings. And being red, they are applauded for transmitting to Posterity the Actions of those that do bravely. For Words do not make Actions, though we give them the Hearing. But there is a certain Grace and Glory in the Compiling Part when it resembles the Grandeur of the Actions themselves. According to that of Homer, 
And many Falsities he did unf●ld  
That looked like Truths, so smoothly were they  told.  It is reported also, that when one of his Familiar Friends should say to Menander, The Feasts of Bacchus are at hand, and thou hast made never a Comedy, he made him this Answer, by all the Gods I have made a Comedy, for I have laid my Plot; and there remains only to make the Verses and Measures to it. So that the Poets themselves believe the Actions to be more necessary then the Words, and the first things to be considered. Corinna likewise, when Pindar was but a Young Man, and made too daring a use of his Eloquence, gave him this Admonition, that he was no Poet, for that he never composed any fables, which was the chiefest Office of Poetry. In regard that Elocution, Figures, Metaphors, Songs, and Measures were invented to give a sweetness to Things. Which Admonition Pindar laying up in his Mind, wrote a certain Ode which thus begins, 
Shall I Ismenus Sing,  
Or Melia, that from Spindles all of Gold  
Her twisted Yarn unwinds,  
Or Cadmus that most ancient King,  
Or else the sacred Race of Spartans Bold,  
Or Hercules that far in Strength transcends.  Which when he shew'd to Corinna, with a smile, when you sow, said she, you must scatter the Seed with your hand, not empty the whole Sack at once. And indeed we find that Pindar intermixes in his Poetic Numbers a Collection of all sorts of Fables. Now that Poetry employs itself in Mythology is agreed by Plato likewise. For a Fable is the Relation of a false Story resembling Truth; and therefore very remote from real Actions; for relation is the Image of Action, as Fable is the Image of Relation. And therefore they that feign Actions, are as different from Historians, as they that speak differ from those that act.  
Athens therefore never bread up any true Artist in Poetry or Lyric Verse. For Cnes●as was a troublesome writer of Dithyrambics: A Person of mean Parentage and of no repute; and being jeered and derided by the Comedians, proved very unfortunate in the Pursuit of famed.  
Now for the Dramatic Poets, some of them looked upon Comedy to be so ignoble, and troublesome, that the Areopagites published a Law that no Man should make any Comedies. But Tragedy flourished, and was cried up, and with wonder and admiration heard and beholded by all People in those days, deceiving them with Fables and the display of various Passions; whereby, as Gorgias says, he that deceived, was more just then the Deceiver; and he that was deceived, wiser then he who was deceived. He that deceived was more just because it was no more then what he pretended to do: And he that was deceived was wiser; for that he must be a Man of no sense, that is not taken with the sweetness of Words. And yet what Benefit did those fine Tragedys procure the Athenians? But the shrewdness and cunning of Themistocles walled the City; the Industry of Pericles adorned their Arsenal, and Cimon advanced them to command their Neighbors. But as for the Wisdom of Euripides, the Eloquence of Sophocles, the Lofty style of Eschylus, what calamity did they avert from the City? Or what renown or famed did they bring to the Athenians? Is it fitting that Dramatic Poems should be compared with Trophies, or Scholastic Discipline with Noble Atcheivments? Would ye that we should introduce the Men themselves carrying before them the Marks and Signals of their own Actions, permitting them double entrance like the Actors upon the Stage? But then it would be requisite that the Poets should go before them, saying and singing, A Panegyric, Gentlemen, Curious Words, give way to us whoever he be that understands not Encomiums of this Nature, that has not a pure Tongue, that never Sang the Orgies of the High-born Muses, nor ever officiated at the Bacchanals of the Bull devouring Deity. And then there must be Scenes, and Vizards, and Altars and Versatil Machines. There must be also the TragedyActors, the Nicostrati, Callipidae, Mnescisci, Theodori, Poli, the Dressers, and Sedan-men of Tragedy, like those of some sumptuously appareled Lady, or rather like the Painters, Guilders, and Colourers of Statues; together with a costly preparation of Vessels, Vizards, Purple-Coats, and Machines, attended by an unruly Rabble of Dancers and Guards; which a Lacedemonian once beholding, not improperly said he, how strangely are the Athenians mistaken, consuming so much cost and labour upon Ridiculous Trif●es: that is to say, wasting the expenses of Navies, and victualling whole Armies upon the Stage. For if you compute the cost of those Dramatic Preparations, you will find that the Athenians spent more upon their Bacchae, Oidipodae, Antigones, Medeas, and Electras, then in their Wars against the Barbarians for Liberty, and extending their Empire. For their Generals oft-times lead forth the Souldiers to Battle, commanding them only to make Provision of such Food, as needed not the tedious preparation of Fire. And indeed their Admiral and Captains of their Ships went a Board without any other Provision then Meal, onions and Cheese. Whereas the Masters of the Chorus's, feeding their Dancers with eels, lettuce, the Kernels of Garlic, and Marrow, feasted for a a long time, exercising their Voices and pleasing their Palates by turns. And as for these if they were overcome, it was their misfortune to be contemned and hist'd at. And for the Victors, there was neither Tripos, nor consecrated Ornament of Victory, as Demetrius calls it, but a life prolonged among Cables, and an empty House for a Tomb. For this is the Tribute of Poetry, and there is nothing more splendid to be expected from it.  
Now then let us consider the Great Generals going thither, to whom so soon as they pass by us, we must rise up and pay our Salutations, especially those who ●eing never Famous for any great Action Military or Civil, were never furnished with daring boldness, nor experience in such Enterprises, nor initiated by the hand of Miltiades that overthrew the Medes, or Themistocles that vanquished the Persians. This is the Martial-gang, combating sometimes with Phalanxes by Land, and engaging with Navies by Sea, and laden with the spoils of both. Give ear Enyo, the Daughter of War, to this same Prologue of Swords and Spears.  Hasten to death, when for your Country vowed, 
As Epaminondas said, for your Country, your sepulchres, and your Altars throwing yourselves into most Noble and Illustrious Combats. The Victors of which methinks I see approaching toward me, not draging after them a Goat or ox for a reward, nor crowned with Ivy, and smelling of the dregs of Wine. But whole Cities, Islands, Continents, and Colonies well peopled are their rewards, being surrounded with Trophies and Spoils of all sorts. Whose Statues and Symbols of Honor are 
A Promontory shouting into the Black-Sea, where stood a chapel dedicated to some Virgin Godhead, and famous for some Victory thereabout obtained.  Parthenons, a hundred furlongs in length, South-walls, Roads for Ships, the Pass of Thermopyle, the Chersonesus and Amphipolis. Marathon displays the Victory of Miltiades, and Salamis the Glory of Themistocles, triumphing over the Ruins of a thousand Vessels. The Victory of Conon brings away the Phoenician Galleys from Eurymedon. And the Victory of Cleo and Demosthones brings away the shield of Brasidas, and his Captives Souldiers in Chains from Sphactria. The Victory of Conon and Thrasebulus Walls the City, and brings the People back at liberty, from Phyla. The Victory of Alcibiades nere Sicily, restores the languishing condition of the City; and Greece beholded Imia raised again by the Victories of Neleus and Androclus, in Lydia and Caria. If you ask what benefit every one of the rest procured to the City; one will answer Lesbos, another Samos, another Cyprus, another the Pontus Euxinus, another five hundred Galleys with three banks of Oars, another ten thousand talents, the rewards of famed and Trophies won. For these Victories the City observes Public Anniversary Festivals; for these Victories she Sacrifices to the Gods; not for the Victories of Eschylus and Sophocles; nor because Carcinus lay with Aerope, or because Astydamas was familiar with Hector. But upon the sixth of August even to this day, the Athenians Celebrate a a Festival in memory of the Fight at Marathon. Upon the sixteenth of the same Month the Conduits run Wine in remembrance of the naval Victory won by Chabrias near Naxos. Upon the twelfth they offer thanksgiving-Sacrifices for the recovery of their liberty. For upon that day they return'd back from Phylae. The third of the same Month they won the Battle of Plataea. The sixteenth of March was consecrated to Diana the Moon appeared in the Full to the Greeks Victorious at Salamis. The twelfth of May was made sacred by the Battle of mantinaea, wherein the Athenians, when their Confederates were routed and fled, alone by themselves obtained the Victory, and Triumph over their Victorious Enemies, such Actions as these procured Honor and Veneration and Grandeur to the City For these Acts it was that Pindar called Athens the Support of Greece not because the Greeks were aggrandiz'd by the Tragedies of Phrynichus and Thespis; but because as he says, near Artimisium the Athenian Youth the first Foundation of their Freedom laid; and afterwards fixing it upon the Adamantin Pillars of Salamis, Mycale and Platea, multiplied their felicity to others. But as for the Writings of the Poets they are mere baubles. But Rhetoricians and Orators indeed have something in them that renders them in some measure fit to be compared with great Captains. For which reason. Aeschines deriding Demosthenes is reported to have said of him, that he had commenced a svit between Oratory and the Art of conducting an Army. But for all that, do you think it proper to prefer the Plataic Oration of Hyperides, to the Victory of Aristides; or the Oration of Lysias against the thirty Tyrants, to the Acts of Thrasibulus and Archias that put them to Death; Or that of Aeschines against Timarchus for Whoring, before the relieving of Byzantium by photion, by which he prevented the Sons of the Confederates from being the Scorn and Derision of the Macedonians; Or shall we compare the Oration of Demosthenes concerning a Crown before the public Crowns which he received for setting Greece at Liberty, wherein the Rhetorician has behaved himself most splendidly and learnedly swearing by the Progenitors of those that ventured their Lives at Marathon for the Liberty of Greece, rather than by those that instructed Youth in the Schools; among which were Isocrates, Antiphontes, and the Isaei. All which the City butted at the expenses of the public, honouring the Sacred relics of their Bodies, and translating those renowned Hero's into the number of the Gods; and by these it was that the Orator choose to swear, tho he could not follow their Example. Isocrates also was wont to say, that they who ventured their Lives at Marathon, fought as if they had been inspired with other Souls then their own; and extoling their daring Boldness and Contempt of Life, to one that asked him being at that time very aged, How he did? As well, said he, as one who being now above Fourscore Years Old, esteems Death to be the best of Evils. For neither did he spend his Years in whetting his Sword, in grinding and sharpening his sphere, in scouring and polishing his Helmet; in commanding Navies and Armies, but in knitting and joining together Opposites, Adequates, and like Cases, and smoothing and adapting of Periods and Sentences; only that he did not make use of Files, Plainers, or Chizzels. How would that Man have been affrighted at the clattering of Weapons, or the routing of a Phalanx, who was so afraid of suffering one Vowel to clash with another, or to pronounce a Word where the Syllables were uneven. Meltiades, the very next day after the Battle of Marathon, return'd a Victor to the City with his Army. And Pericles having subdued the Samians in Nine Months, derided Agamemnon that was Ten Years taking of Troy. But Isocrates was no less then three Olympiads( or fifteen Years) in writing a Panegyric, in all which time he had neither been a General nor an ambassador, neither built a City, nor been an Admiral; notwithstanding the many Wars that harassed Greece within that time. But while Timotheus freed Euboea from Slavery, while Chabrias vanquished the Enemy near Naxus, while Iphicrates defeated and cut to pieces a whole Battalion of the lacedæmonians; at what time the Athenians having shak'n off the Spartan Yoke, set the rest of Greece at Liberty; with as ample privileges to give their Voices in the general Assemblies of the whole Nation, as they had themselves, he sits poring at home in his Study, seeking out proper Phrases and choice Words for his Oration; during which time Pericles had erected stately Porticoes, and the goodly Temple Hecatonpedes. Tho the Comic Poet Cratinus, seems to deride even Pericles himself, as one that was none of the quickest where he says, 
In words the Mighty Pericles  
Has raised us up a Wall  
But 'tis a Wall in only Words  
For we see none at all.  Consider now the poor Spirit of this great Orator, who spent the ninth part of his Life in compiling one single Oration. But to say no more of him, is it rational to compare the Harangues of Demosthenes, as he was an Orator, with the marshal Exploits of Demosthenes, when a great Leader. For example, that which he made to set forth the inconsiderate folly of Conon, with the Trophies which himself erected before Pyla: Or his Declamation against Amathusius, concerning Slaves, with the noble Service which he performed in reducing the lacedæmonians to Slavery. Neither can it be said, because he composed an Oration for granting the Freedom of Athens to all that came to inhabit there, that he therefore deserved as much honour as Alcibiades, who made one People of the Mantineans and Elians, and joined them Confederates with the Athenians against the lacedæmonians. And yet we must aclowledge that the public Orations of Demosthenes deserve Applause, and particularly his Philippies, in which he bravely encourages the Athenians to take Arms, and extols the enterprise of Leptines.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Against running in Debt, or taking up Money upon Usury.  Translated out of the Greek by the same Hand. 
PLATO in his Laws permits not any one to go and draw Water from his Neighbors Well, who has not first digged and sunk a Pit in his own Ground, till he is come to a Vein of day, and has by his sounding experimented, that the Place will not yield a Spring, because the day or Potters Earth, being of its own Nature, fatty, solid, and strong, retains the Moisture, it receives, and will not let it soak or pierce thrô: But it must be lawful for them to take Water from anothers Ground, when there is no Way or Means for them, to find any in their own: for the Law ought to provide for Mens Necessity, but not favour their Laziness. The like Ordinance there should be also concerning Money: That none should be allowed to borrow upon Usury, nor to go and dive into other Mens Purses, as it were into their Wells and Fountains, before they have first searched at home, and sounded every Means for the obtaining it, having collected, as it were, and gathered together all the Gutters and Springs, to try, if they can draw from them, what may suffice to supply their most necessary Occasions. But on the contrary many there are, who, to defray their idle expenses, and to satisfy their extravagant and superfluous Delights, make not use of their own, but have recourse to others, running themselves deeply into Debt without any Necessity. Now this may easily be judged, if one does but consider, that Usurers do not ordinarily lend to those, which are in Distress; but only to such, as desire to obtain and get somewhat, that is superfluous, and of which they stand not in need: so that the Credit, given by the Lender, is a Testimony, sufficiently proving, that the Borrower has of his own; whereas on the contrary, since he has of his own, he ought to keep himself from bo●rowing.  
Why shouldst thou go and make thy Court to a Banker or a Merchant? Borrow from thine own Table. Thou hast Tankards, Dishes, and Basins of Silver: make use of them for thy Necessity, and, when they are gone to supply thy Wants, the pleasant Town of Aulis, or Isle of Tenedos will again refurnish thy Board with fair Vessels of Earth, far more cleanly and neat than those of Silver: for they are not scented with the strong and unpleasant Smell of Usury, which like Rust, daily more and more sullies and tarnishes the Lustre of thy Sumptuous Magnificence: they will not be every day putting thee in mind of the Calends, and new Moons, which being of themselves the most holy and sacred Days of the Months, are by reason of Usuries rendered the most odious and accursed. For as to those, who choose rather to carry their Goods to the Brokers, and there lay them in pawn for Money, taken upon Usury, than to sell them outright, I do not believe, that Jupiter Ctesius himself can preserve them from Beggary. They are ashamed forsooth to receive the full Price and Value of their Goods; but they are not ashamed to pay Use for the Money, they have borrowed on them. And yet the great and wise Pericles caused that costly rob of fine Gold, weighing about forty Talents, with which Minerva's Statue was adorned, to be made in such a manner, that he could take it on and off at his Pleasure; To the end, said he, that when we shall stand in need of Money to support the Charges of an expensive War, we may take it, and make use of it on so weighty an Occasion, putting again afterwards in its place another of no less Price and Value than the former. Thus ought we in our Affairs, as in a besieged Town, never to admit or receive the hostile Garrison of an Usurer, nor to endure before our Eyes the Delivering up of our Goods into perpetual Servitude; but rather to cut off from our Table, what is neither necessary nor profitable, and in like manner from our Beds, our Couches, and our ordinary expenses, so to keep ourselves free and at Liberty, in hopes to restore again, what we shall have retrenched, if Fortune shall hereafter smile upon us. The Roman Ladies heretofore willingly partend with their Jewels and Ornaments of Gold for the making a Cup, to be sent as an Offering to the Temple of Apollo Pythius in the City of Delphi. And the Carthaginian Matrons did with their own Hands cut the Hair from their Heads, to make Cords for the managing of their Warlike engines and Instruments in defence of their besieged City. But we, as if we were ashamed of being able to stand on our own Legs, and without being supported by the Assistance of others, go and enslave ourselves by Engagements and Obligations; whereas it were much better, that restraining our humour, and confining it, to what is profitable for us, we should of our Plate, which we should either melt, or sell, build a Temple of Liberty for ourselves, our Wives, and our Children.  
The Goddess Diana in the City of Ephesus gives to such Debtors, as can fly into her Temple, Freedom and Protection against their Creditors: but the Sanctuary of Parsimony and Moderation in expenses, into which no Usurer can enter, to pluck thence, and carry away any Debtor Prisoner, is always open for the Wise, and affords them a long and large Space of joyful and honourable Repose. For as the Prophetess, which gave Oracles in the Temple of the Pythian Apollo about the Time of the Median Wars, answered the Athenians, that God had for their Safety given them a Wall of Wood, upon which forsaking their Lands, their City, their Houses, and all their Goods, they had recourse to their Ships for the Preservation of their Liberty: so God gives us a Table of Wood, Vessels of Earth, and Garments of course Cloth, if we desire to live and continue in Freedom: 
Aim not at gilded Coaches, Steeds of Price,  
And Harness, richly wrought with quaint Device.  For how swiftly soever they may run, yet will Usuries overtake them, and outrun them.  
Take rather the first Ass, thou shalt meet, or the first Pack-horse, that shall come in thy way, and fly from that cruel and tyrannical Enemy the Usurer, who asks thee not Fire and Water, as heretofore did the barbarous King of Persia, but, which is worse, touches thy Liberty, wounds thy Honor by Proscriptions, and sets thy Goods to Sale by Outcry. If thou payst him not, he troubles thee; if thou hast wherewithal to satisfy him, he will not receive it, unless it be his Pleasure. If thou sell'st, he will have thy Goods for nothing, or at a very under rate; and if thou wilt not sell, he will force thee to it: If thou suest him, he speaks to thee of an Accommodation; if thou swear'st to give him Content, he will domineer over thee: If thou goest to his House, to discourse with him, he shuts his Door against thee; if thou stay'st at home, he is always knocking at thy Door, and will never stir from thee. Of what use to the Athenians was the Decree of Solon, by which he ordained, that the Body should not be obliged for any public Debt: for they, who owe, are in Bondage to all Bankers; and not to them alone,( for then there would be no great hurt,) but to their very Slaves, who are proud, insolent, barbarous, and outrageous, and in a word exactly such, as Plato describes the Devils and fiery Executioners to be, who in Hell torment the Souls of the Wicked. For thus do these wretched Usurers make the Court, where Justice is administered, an Hell to the poor Debtors, preying on some, and gnawing them, Vulture-like, to the very Bones, and Piercing into their entrails with sharp Beaks; and standing over others, who are, like so many Tantaluses, prohibited by them from tasting the Corn and Fruits of their own Ground, and drinking the Wine of their own Vintage. And as King Darius sent to the City of Athens his Lieutenants Datis and Artaphernes with Chains and Cords, to bind the Prisoners, they should take: so these Usurers, bringing into Greece Boxes, full of Schedules, Bills, and Obligatory Contracts, as so many Irons and Fetters for the Shackling of poor Criminals, go thrô the Cities, sowing in them, as they pass, not good and profitable Seed, as did heretofore Triptolemus, when he went thrô all Places, teaching the People to sow Corn; but Roots and Grains of Debts, that produce infinite labours and intolerable Usuries, of which the End can never be found, and which, eating their way, and spreading their Sprouts round about, do in fine make Cities bend under the Burden, till they come to be suffocated. They say, that Hares at the same time suckle one young Leveret, are ready to kinnle and bring forth another, and conceive a third: But the Usuries of these barbarous and wicked Usurers bring forth, before they conceive: for at the very Delivery of their Money they immediately ask it back, taking it up at the same moment, they lay it down, and letting out that again to Interest, which they take and receive for the Use of what they had lent. 'tis a Saying among the Messenians: Gate before Gat●, and still a Gate behind: But it may much better be said against the Usurers: Use before Use, and still more Use you'l find. So that they laugh at those natural Philosophers, who hold, that Nothing can be made of Nothing, and of that, which has no Existence: for with them Usury is made and engendered of that, which neither is, nor ever was. They think the Taking to farm the Customs and other public Tributes, which the Laws nevertheless permit, to be a shane and Reproach: and yet themselves on the contrary, in opposition to all the Laws in the World, make Men pay Tribute for what they lend upon Interest, or rather, if Truth may be spoken, do in the very letting out their Money to Use basely deceive their Debtor: for the poor Debtor, who receives less, than he acknowledges in his Obligation, is falsely and dishonestly cheated. And the Persians indeed repute Lying to be a Sin only in a second Degree, but the first they repute to be in debt: forasmuch as Lying frequently attends those, that owe. Now there are not in the whole World any People, who are oftener guilty of Lying, than Usurers, nor that practise more Unfaithfulness in their Day-books, in which they set down, that they have delivered such a Sum of Money to such a Person, to whom they have not given nigh so much. And the moving Cause of their Lying is pure Avarice, not Want, or Poverty, but an insatiable Desire of always having more, the End of which is neither pleasurable nor profitable to themselves, but ruinous and destructive to those, whom they injure. For they neither cultivate the Lands, of which they deprive their Debtors, nor inhabit the Houses, out of which they eject them, nor eat at the Tables, which they take away from them, nor wear the Clothes, of which they strip them. But first one is destroyed, and then a second soon follows, being drawn on, and allured by the former. For the Mischief spreads like Wild-fire, still consuming, and yet still increasing by the Destruction and ruin of those, that fall into it, whom it devours one after another. And the Usurer, who maintains this Fire, blowing and kindling it to the Undoing of so many People, reaps no other Advantage from it, but only that he now and then takes his Book of Accounts, and reads in it, how many poor Debtors he has caused to sell, what they had; how many he has dispossessed of their Lands and Livings; whence he came, and whither he is gone by always turning, winding and increasing his Money.  
Think not, that I speak this for any Ill Will or Enmity, that I have sworn against Usurers: 
For never did they drive away my Kine,  
Or Horses.—  But my only Aim is, to show those, who are so ready to take up Money upon Use, how much shane and Slavery there is in it, and how it proceeds only from extreme Folly, Sloth, and Effeminacy of Heart. For if thou hast of thine own, borrow not, since thou hast no need of it; and if thou hast nothing, borrow not, because thou wilt not have any Means to pay. But let us consider the one and the other apart. The elder Cato said to a certain Old Man, who behaved himself ill: My Friend, seeing old Age has of itself so many Evils, why dost thou go about to add to them the Reproach and shane of Wickedness? In like manner may we say to a Man, oppressed with Poverty: Since Poverty has of itself so many and so great Miseries, do not heap upon them the Anguishes of borrowing and being in debt. Take not from Poverty the only good thing, in which it is superior to Riches, to wit, Freedom from pensive Care. Otherwise thou wilt subject thyself to the Derision of the common Proverb, which says: 
A Goat I cannot bear away,  
Yet you an Ox upon me lay.  Thou canst not bear Poverty, and yet thou art going to load on thyself an Usurer, which is a Burden, even to a Rich Man insupportable.  
But you will say perhaps, How then would you have me to live? Is this a Question, fit for thee to ask, who hast Hands, Feet, and a Voice, who in brief art a Man, whose Property it is to love, and be beloved, to do, and receive a Courtesy? Canst thou not teach Grammar, bring up young Children, be a Porter or Door-keeper, travail by Sea, serve in a Ship? There is in all these nothing more shameful or odious, than to be dunn'd with the importunate clamours of such, as are always saying: Pay me, give me my Money. Rutilius, that rich Roman, coming one day to Musonius the Philosopher, whispered him thus in his ear: Musonius, Jupiter the Saviour, whom you Philosophers profess to imitate and follow, takes not up Money at Interest. Masonius, smiling, presently answered him: Nor yet does he lend for Use. For this Rutilius, who was himself an Usurer, upbraided the other with borrowing upon Use: Now what a foolish Stoical Arrogance was this. For what need was there of bringing in here Jupiter the Saviour, when he might have given him the same Admonition by things, that were familiar, and before his Eyes? Swallows run not themselves into Debt, Ants borrow not upon Interest, and yet Nature has given them neither Reason, Hands, nor Art. But she has endued Men with such Abundance of Understanding, that they maintain not only themselves, but also Horses, Dogs, Partridges, Hares, and Jays. Why then dost thou condemn thyself, as if thou wert less able to persuade than a Jay, more dumb than a Partridge, and more ungenerous than a Dog, in that thou canst not oblige any Man to be assistant to thee either by serving him, instructing him, delighting him, guarding him, or sighting in his Defence? dost thou not see, how many occasions the Land, and how many the Sea affords thee for thy Maintenance? Hear also, what Crates says: 
Here I saw Micylus the Wool to carded,  
Whilst his Wife Spun, that they by labour hard  
In these hard times might scape the hungry Jaws  
Of famine.—   
King Antigonus, when he had not for a long time seen Cleanthes the Philosopher, said to him: dost thou yet, o Cleanthes, continue to grinned? Yes Sir, replied Cleanthes, I still grinned, and that I do to gain my Living, and not to depart from Philosophy. How great and generous was the Courage of this Man, who, coming from the Mill and the Kneading through, did with the same Hand, which had been employed in turning the ston, and moulding the doughty, writ of the Nature of the Gods, Moon, Stars, and Sun! And yet we think these to be servile Works.  
Therefore, forsooth, that we may be free, we take up Money at Interest, and to this purpose slatter base and servile Persons, wait on them, treat them, make them Presents, and pay them Pensions, and this we do, not being compelled by Poverty;( for no Usurer will lend a poor Man Money) but to gratify our Prodigality. For if we would be content with such things, as are necessary for human Life, Usurers would be no less rare in the World, than Centaurs and Gorgons. But Luxury and Excess, as it produced Goldsmiths, Silversmiths, Perfumers, and Diers of curious colours, so has it also brought forth Usurers. For we run not into Debt for Bread and Wine, but for the purchasing of Stately Seats, numerous Slaves, fine Mules, costly Hangings, rich Tables, and for all those foolish and superfluous expenses, to which we frequently put ourselves for the exhibiting of Plays to the People, or some such vain Ambition, from which we frequently reap no other Fruit but Ingratitude. Now he, that is once entangled in Usury remains a Debtor all his Life, not unlike in this to the Horse, who, having once taken the Bridle into his Mouth, and the Saddle on his Back, receives one Rider after another. Nor is there any Means for these Debtors to make their Escape into those fair Pastures and Meadows, which once they enjoyed, but they wander about, like those Daemons, mentioned by Empeducles to have been driven out of Heaven by the offended Gods: 
By the Skies Force they're thrust into the Main,  
Which to the Earth soon spews 'em back again:  
Thence to bright Titans Orb they're forced to fly,  
And Titan soon remits them to the Sky.  In like manner do such Men fall from the Hand of one Usurer or Banker to another, sometimes of a Corinthian, sometimes of a Patrian, sometimes of an Athenian, till having been deceived and cheated by all, they finally find themselves dissipated and torn in pieces by Usury. For as He, who is fallen into the Dirt, must either rise up and get out of it, or else ly still in the Place, into which he first fell, for that by tumbling, turning, and rolling about, he does but still more and more bemire himself: so also those, who do but change their Creditor, and cause their Names to be transcribed from one Usurers Book to anothers, do by loading and embroiling themselves with new Usuries, become more and more oppressed. Now in this they properly resemble Persons, distempered with Choler, who will not receive any Medicine, sufficient to work a perfect Cure; but are continually taking away that, which drops from the choleric humour, and so make way for it to gather more and more: For in the same manner these Men are not willing to be cleansed at once, but do with grievous Anguish and Sorrow pay their Use at every Season of the Year, and no sooner have they discharged one, but another drops and stills immediately after, which causes them both aching Hearts and Heads; whereas they should have taken care to get wholly clear, that they might remain free and at Liberty.  
For I now turn my Speech to those, who are more wealthy, and withal more nice and effeminate, and whose Discourse is commonly in this manner: How, shall I remain then without Servants, without Fire, and without an House, or Place, to which I may repair? Now this is the same thing, as if one, who is sick of a Dropsy, and puffed up as a Barrel, should say to a Physician: How? Would you have me become slender, lean and empty? And why not, provided you thereby get your Health? Thus 'tis better, you should be without Servants, than that you should yourself become a Slave; and that you should remain without Possessions, than that you should be made the Possession of another. Give Ear a little to the Discourse of the two Vultures, as it is reported in the Fables. One of them was taken with so strong a Fit of Vomiting, that he said: I believe, I shall cast up my very Bowels. Now to this his Companion answered: What hurt will there be in it? For thou wilt not indeed throw up thine own entrails, but those of a deceased Person, which we devoured the other Day. So he, who is indebted, sells not his own Inheritance, nor his own House, but that of the Usurer, who lent him the Money, to whom the Law judges the Right and Possession of them. Nay, by Jupiter, will he say to me, but my Father left me this Estate. I believe it well, but he left thee also Liberty and a good Repute, of which thou oughtst to make more Account, and be more careful. He, who begot thee, made thy Foot, and thy Hand, and nevertheless, if they happen to be mortified, thou wilt give Money to the chirurgeon to cut them off. Calypso presented Ulysses with a rob, breathing forth the sweet-scented odour of an immortal Body, which she put on him, as a Token and Memorial of the Love, she had born him. But when his Ship was cast away, and himself ready to sink to the Bottom, not being able to keep above the Water, by reason of his wet rob, which weighed him downward, he put it off, and threw it away, and having gird his naked Breast with a certain broad Swadling-band, Swam safe to Shore.— And afterwards, when the Danger was over, and he seen to be landed, he wanted neither Food nor raiment. And is it not a true Tempest, when the Usurer after some time comes to assault the miserable Debtors with this Word Pay?  
This having said, the Clouds grow thick, the Sea,  
Is troubled, and its raging Waves beat high,  
Whilst East, South, West Winds thrô the Welkin fly.  
These Winds are Use, and Use upon Use, which roll one after another; and he, that is overwhelmed by them, and kept down by their Weight, cannot save himself, nor make his Escape by Swimming, but at last sinks down to the Bottom, where he perishes, carrying with him his Friends, who were Pledges and Sureties for him.  
Crates the Theban Philosopher acted far otherwise: for owing nothing, and consequently not being pressed for Payment by any Creditor, but only tired with the Cares and Troubles of House-keeping, and the solicitude, requisite to the Management of his Estate, he left a Patrimony of eight Talents Value, and taking only his Cloak and Wallet, retired to Philosophy and Poverty. Anaxagoras also forsook his plentiful and well-stockt Pastures. But what need is there of alleging these Examples? Seeing that Philoxenus a Musician, being one of those, who were sent to people a new City, and new Land in Sicily, where there fell to his Share a good House, and great Wealth, with which he might have lived well at his Ease, yet seeing, that Delights, Pleasure and Idleness, without any Exercise of good Letters, reigned in those Quarters, said: These Goods, by all the Gods, shall not destroy me; but I will rather lose them: and immediately leaving to others the Portion, that was allotted to himself, he again took Shipping, and return'd to Athens. Whereas those, who are in Debt, b●ar and suffer themselves to be sued, taxed, made Slaves of, and cheated with false Money, feeding with King Phineus certain winged Harpies. For these Usurers fly to them, and ravish out of their Hands their very Food, neither yet have they Patience to stay and expect the Season: for they buy their Debtors Corn before it is ready for Harvest; bargain for the Oil, before the Olives are ripe, and in like manner for their Wine: I will have it, say● the Usurer, at such a Price, and immediately gets the Writing signed; and yet the Grapes are still hanging on the Vine, expecting the Month of September, when the Star Arcturus rises and shows the Vintage.   

Plutarch's Morals. Vol. V. Plutarch's  
platonic Questions.  Translated out of the Greek by R. Brown M. L. 
WHat is the Reason, that Socrates his God bid him to act the Mid-wife's Part to others, but charged himself not to generate? For thus he talks to Theaetetus, not after his merry jesting way, because he would never have used the Name of God in such a manner; thô Plato in that Book makes Socrates several times to talk with great Boasting and Arrogance, as he does now. There are many( dear Friend) so well affencted towards me, that they are ready to fall rudely upon me, when I offer to cure them of the least Madness: for they will not be persuaded that I do it out of good Will, because they are ignorant, that God bears ill Will to no Man, and that therefore I wish Ill to no Man; but to stand in a Ly, or to stifle the Truth, neither of these things I can do. Whether therefore did he style his own Nature, which was of a very strong and pregnant Wit, by the Name of God, as Menander says, For our Mind it God, and as Heraclitus, Man's Genius is a Deity? Or did some Divine Cause, or some Ge●ius or other impart this way of philosophising to Socrates, whereby as he was interrogating others, he cleared them of Pride, Error and Ignorance, things that made them troublesone both to themselves and others. For about that time there happened to be in Greece several Sophisters, to these some young Men paid great Sums of Money, for which they purchased a strong Opinion of Learning and Wisdom, and of being stout Disputants; but this sort of Disputation spent much time in trifling Squablings, which neither were of any Credit or Profit. Now Socrates using an argumentative Discourse, by way of a purgative Remedy, procured Belief and Authority to what he said; because in refuting others, he himself affirmed nothing; and he the sooner gained upon People, because he seemed rather to be inquisitive after the Truth, as well as they, than to maintain his own Opinion: for that useful thing, judgement, is taken with Familiarity, and the Lover is blinded with the thing loved; and nothing of a Man's own is so beloved, as is his Opinion, and Discourse by him that made it: And the Distribution of Children, said to be the justest, in respect of Discourses, is the unjustest; for there a Man must take his own; but here a Man must choose the best, thô it be another Man's. Therefore he that has Children of his own, is a worse Judge of other Mens: it being true, as the Sophister said well, The Eleans would be the most proper Judges of the olympic Games, were no Eleans Gamesters. So he that would Judge of Disputations, cannot be just, if he either seeks the Bays for, or is himself Antagonist to either of the Antagonists. For as the grecian Captains, when they were to give their Suffrages, who had behaved himself the best, every Man of them voted for himself: so there is not a Philosopher of them all, but would do the like, besides Socrates, and those, that aclowledge, they can say nothing, that is their own; and these only are the pure and incorrupt Judges of the Truth. For as the Air in the Ears, unless it be still, and voided of Noise in itself, without any Sound or Tingling, does not exactly take Sounds. So the Philosophical judgement in Disputations, if it be disturbed and obstreperous within, is hardly comprehensive of what is said without. For our Familiar and inbred Opinion must have Philosophy to rectify the best things it is capable to do; all others err from the Truth. Furthermore, if Men can comprehend and know nothing, God did justly interdict Socrates the Procreation of false and unstable Discourses, which are like Wind-eggs, and bid him convince others who were of any other Opinion. And Reasoning, which rids us of the greatest of Evils, Error and Vanity of Mind, is none of the least Benefits to us: For God has not granted this to the Aesculapians: Nor did Socrates give physic to the Body, indeed he purged the Mind of secret Corruption. But if there be any Knowledge of the Truth, and if the Truth be one, he has as much that learns it of him that invented it not, as the inventor himself. Now, he the most easily attains the Truth, that is persuaded he has it not, and he chooses best, just as he that has no Children of his own, adopts the best. Mark this well, that Poëtry, mathematics, Oratory, and Sophistry, which are the things the Deity forbade Socrates to generate, are of no Value; and that of the sole Wisdom about what is Divine and Intelligible( which Socrates called Amiable and Eligible for itself) there is neither Generation nor Invention by Man, but Reminiscence. Wherefore Socrates taught nothing, but suggesting Principles of doubt, as Birth-pains, to young Men, he excited, and at the same time confirmed the innate Notions: This he called his Art of midwifery, which did not( as others professed) extrinsically confer Intelligence upon his Auditors; but demonstrated it to be inna●●, yet imperfect and confused, and in want of a Nurse to feed it.  
Why does he call the supreme God Father and Maker of all things? Is he( as Homer calls him) of created Gods, and Men the Father, and of Brutes and things that have no Soul the Maker? If Chrysippus may be credited, he cannot be said to be Father of the Field, who scattered the Seed in it, thô Corn grow from that Seed; he only, as his way is, used a Metaphor, and called the Cause of the World the Father of it: As in his Convivium he calls Phaedrus the Father of the amatorious Discourse, which he had introduced, and as in his Phaedrus he calls Lycias, who had been the occasion of an excellent Discourse about Philosophical Matters. Or is there any difference between a Father and a Maker, or between Procreation and Making? For, as what is procreated is also made, but not on the contrary; so he that procreated did also make: for the Procreation of an Animal, is the making of it. Now the Work of a Maker, as of a Builder, a Weaver, a musical Instrument Maker, or a Statuary, does altogether differ from its Author; but the Principle and Power of the Procreator is implanted in the Progeny, and contains his Nature, the Progeny being a Piece pulled off the Procreator. Since therefore, that the World is neither like a piece of Potter's Work, nor Joyner's Work, but that there is a great Share of Life and Divinity in it, which God from himself communicated to, and mixed with Matter, God may as well be called Father of the World, it having Life in it, as the Maker of it. And since th●se things come very near to Plato's Opinion, consider, I pray, whether there may not be some probability in them. Whereas the World consists of two Parts, Body and Soul, God indeed made not the Body; but Matter being exhibited, he formed and fitted it, binding up, and confining what was infinite within proper Limits and Figures. But the Soul partaking of Mind, Reason an● Harmony, was not only the Work of God, but part o● him, not only made by him, but begot by him. Therefore in the republic Universal, suppose the Universe, as one Line, to be cut into two unequal Sections, again cut each of these Sections in two after the same manner: Suppose this to constitute the Genera of things sensible, and of things intelligible in the Universe, the first represents the Genus of Intelligibles, comprehending the first Species; the second the mathematics. Of Sensibles, first the Genus comprehends solid Bodies, the second comprehends the Images and Representations of them. Moreover, to every one of these four he has assigned its proper judicatory Faculty, viz. to the first the Mind; to the mathematics the Intellect; to Sensibles Belief; to Images and Representations Likelihood and Probability. But what does he mean by dividing the Universe into unequal Parts? And which of the Sections, the Intelligible or the Sensible, is the greater? For in this he has not explained himself. But it appears, the Sensible is the greater Portion. For the Essence of Intelligibles is indivisible, and in the same respect ever the same, being contracted into a little and pure; but an Essence divisible, and running about Bodies, constitutes the sensible part. Now, what is immaterial is limited; but Body in respect of Matter is infinite and unlimited, and as it is sensible it partakes of Intelligible, when it is defined. Besides, as every Sensible has many Images, Shadows and Representations, and from one and the same Original several Copies may be taken both by Nature and Art; so the former must needs exceed the latter in Number, according to Plato, who makes the Notions of things sensible to be Copies or Ideas, like Statues or Pictures of things material. Then the Mind conceives one sort of Ideas abstracted from Body, which belongs to the mathematics: This leads from arithmetic to Geometry, thence to Astrology, then to music or Harmony. For things became Geometrical by the Accession of Magnitude to Quantity; Solid by the Accession of Profundity to Magnitude; Astrological by the Accession of Motion to Solidity; Harmonical by the Accession of Sound to Motion. Abstract then Sound from Motion, Motion from Solids, Profundity from Superficies, Magnitude from Quantity, we are then in notional Ideas, which have no Distinction among themselves, in respect of Unity and Solitude: For Unity makes no Number, unless joined by the infinite Binary, then it makes a Number: And thence we proceed to Points, thence to Lines, from them to Superficies, and Profundities, and Bodies, and to the Qualities of Bodies so and so qualified. Now, the Mind is the only judicatory Faculty of Intelligibles, and the Intellect is the Mind in the mathematics, as to Intelligibles, appearing by reflection in a Glass. But as to the Knowledge of Bodies, because of their Multitude, Nature has given us five Powers or Distinctions of Senses; nor are all Bodies discerned by them, many escaping Sense, by reason of their smallness. And thô every one of us consists of a Body and Soul, yet the Hegemonick and intellectual Faculty is small being hide in the huge Mass of Flesh. And the Case is the same in the Universe as to sensible and intelligible: for Intelligibles are the Principles of bodily things, but every thing is greater than the Principle whence it came. Yet on the contrary some will say, that by comparing Sensibles with Intelligibles, we match things mortal with divine in some measure: for God is in Intelligibles. Besides, the thing contained, is ever less than the Containing, and the Nature of the Universe in the Intelligible contains the Sensible: For God having placed the Soul in the middle, hath extended it thrô all, and hath covered it all round with Bodies. The Soul is invisible, and cannot be perceived by any of the Senses, as Plato says in his Book De Legibus, therefore every Man must die, but the World shall never die. For Mortality and Dissolution surrounds every one of our vital Faculties. The Case is quiter otherwise in the World, for the corporeal Part contained in the middle by the more noble and unalterable Part is ever preserved. And a Body is not said to be without Parts and indivisible for its minuteness: But what is Incorporeal and Intelligible is so, as being simplo and sincere, and voided of all Privation and Difference. Otherwise it were Folly to think to judge of corporeal things by incorporeal. Now a thing is said to be without Parts and indivisible, which is every where, and no part of the World voided of it: But all Affections and Actions, and all Corruptions and Generations are contained by an Instant. But the Mind is only Judge of what is intelligible, as the Sight is of Light, by reason of their Simplicity and Similitude. But Bodies having several Differences and Diversities, are comprehended some by one Judicatory, others by another, as by several Organs. Yet they do not well, who despise the Dianoëtick Faculty in us: For it being great, comprehends all Sensibles, and attains to things Divine. This must be a great thing, which( as he says in his Convivium) shows us, how we should use amatorious Matters, turning our Minds from sensible Goods, to things only discernible by the Mind, that we ought not to be enslaved by the Beauty of any Body, Study or Learning; but laying aside such Pusillanimity, we may turn to the vast Ocean of Beauty.  
What is the Reason that, thô Plato always says that the Soul is ancienter than the Body, and that it is the Cause and Principle of its Rise, yet he likewise says, that neither the Soul exists without the Body, nor the Mind without the Soul, but the Soul in the Body, and the Mind in the Soul: for so the Body will seem to be and not to be, because it both exists with the Soul, and is begot by the Soul? Perhaps what we have often said is true, viz. that the Soul without Mind, and the Body without Form, did mutually ever co-ëxist, and neither of them had Generation or Beginning. But after the Soul did partake of Mind and Harmony, and being through Concent made wise, wrought a Change in Matter, and being stronger than the others Motions, it drew and converted these Motions to itself: so the Body of the World drew its Original from the Soul, and became conformable and like to it. For the Soul did not make the Nature of the Body out of its self, nor out of nothing; but it wrought an orderly and pliable Body out of one disorderly and fo●mless. Just as if a Man should say, that the Virtue of the Seed is with the Body, and yet that the Body of the Fig-tree or Olive-tree was made of the Seed, he would not be much out( for the Body, its innate Motion and Mutation proceeding from the Seed, grew up and became what it is.) So when formless and indefinite Matter was once formed by the in-being Soul, it received such and such a Form and Disposition.  
Why, since Bodies and Figures are contained partly by Rectilinears, and partly by Circles, does he make aequilateral Triangles, and Triangles of unequal Sides, the Principles of Rectilinears; of which he made the aequilateral Triangle and the Cube, the Element of the Earth; and ● Scalenum and a Pyramid, he made the Seed of ●ir●, an Octaedron of Air, and an Eicosaëdron of W●t●r▪ but why does he not meddle with Circula●s, ●●ô h● doe● mention a Sphaeroïdes, where he says, that of th● 〈◇〉 reckoned Figures, every Circumference of a Body 〈◇〉 and ●ivi●●d into equal Parts? Or is their Opinion 〈◇〉 ●ho think that he ascribed a Dodecaedron to the 〈…〉 th●t God made use of it in delineating 〈◇〉 Uni●●rse? ●or upon account of the Multitude o● 〈◇〉, and th● O●●useness of its Angles, avoiding all 〈◇〉, it is flexible, and by Circumtension, like Globes of twelve Skins, it becomes circular and comprehensive. For it has twenty solid Angles, each of which is contained by three obtuse Planes, and each of these contains a Right, and the fifth Part of a right Angle. Now it is made up of twelve equilateral and equangular Quinquangles, each of which consists of thirty of the first Scalena. Therefore it seems to resemble both the zodiac and the Year, it being divided into Parts and Portions alike. Or is a Right in Nature prior to Circumference? Or is Circumference but an Accident of Rectilinear. For a right Line is said to bend, and a circled is described by a Center and Distance, which is the place of a right Line, by which it is measured: for a Circumference is every where equally distant from the Middle. And a Cone and a Cylinder are made by Rectilinears. A Cone by keeping one side of a Triangle fixed, and carrying the other round. A Cylinder, by doing the like with a Parallelogram. Further, that is nearest a Principle which is less; but a Right is the least of all Lines, as it is simplo, whereas in a Circumference, one part is concave without, another convex within. Besides, Numbers are before Figures, as Unity is before a Point, which is Unity in Position. But indeed Unity is a Triangle: for every triangular Number taken eight times, by adding an Unity, becomes quadrate, and this happens to Unity. Therefore a Triangle is before a circled, and a right Line before a Circumference. Besides, no Element is divided into things compounded of itself; indeed there is a Dissolution of all other things into an Element. Now, a Triangle is divided into no Circumference; but two Diameters cut a circled into four Triangles. Therefore a Rectilinear Figure is before a Circular, and has more of the Nature of an Element. And Plato himself shows that a Rectilinear is in the first place, and a Circular is only consequential and accidental. For where he says, the Earth consists of Cubes, each of which is contained with Rectilinear Superficies, he also says the Earth is Spherical and round. Therefore there was no need of making a peculiar Element for round things, since Rectilinears, fitted after a certain manner among themselves, do make up this Figure. Besides, a right Line whether great or little, preserves the same Rectitude; but the Circumference of a circled, the less it is, the crookeder it is; the larger, the straighter. Therefore Lines falling on a Convex Superficies, some touch the Subject plane in a Point, others in a Line. So that a Man may imagine that a Circumference is made up of little right Lines. But observe this, no circled or Sphere is exact, and thô there be a latent Difference in the Station, or Extension, or Minuteness of the Particles, yet it seems circular and round. There ore no corruptible Body moves circularly, but altogether in a right Line. To be truly Spherical, is not in a sensible Body, that is the Element of the Soul and Mind, to whom he has given circular Motion, as being agreeable to their Nature.  
How comes it to pass, that in Phaedrus it is said, that the Nature of a Wing, by which any thing that is heavy is carried upwards, participates most of the Body of God? Is it because the Discourse is of Love, and Love is of Beauty inherent in a Body? Now Beauty by Similitude to things divine moves and reminds the Soul. Or it may be( without too much Curiosity) he may be understood in plain meaning, t● wit, that the several Faculties of the Soul being emp●oyed about Bodies, the Power of Reasoning and Understanding, partakes most of the Divine Nature, which he says is employed most about divine and heavenly things; and which he did not only tropically call a Wing, it raising the Soul from mean and mortal things, to things above.  
In what Sense does Plato say, that the Antiperistasis of Moti●n, by reason there is no Vacuum, is the Cause of the E●fects in Physicians Cupping-glasses, in glueing, in bearing of burdens, in the running of Water, in Thunder, in the Atraction of the Load-stone, and in the Harmony of Sounds? For it seems unreasonable to ascribe the Reason of such different Effects to the self same Cause. How Respiration is made by the Antiperistasis of the Air, he has sufficiently shown. But as for the rest, he says, they act miraculously, that nothing stands and how things thrust, and change Postures with others, he has left to us to determine. As to Cupping-glasses, the Case is thus; the Air next to the Flesh being comprehended and inflamed by the Heat, and being made more rare than the Pores of the Glass, does not go into a Vacuum( for there is no such thing) but into the Air, which is without the Cupping-glass, and has an Impulse upon it. This Air drives that before it, and as it gives way, succeeds into the place of what was vacuated by the session of the last. And so the Air approaching the Flesh, comprehended by the Cupping-glass, and being in a Ferment, draws the Humors into the Cupping-glass. For the Cavities about the Mouth and Stomach are full of Air, when therefore the Meat is squeezed down by the Tongue and Tonsils, the elided Air follows what gives way, and also forces down the Meat. Weights also thrown, cleave the Air, and dissipate it, as they fall with Force, the Air recoiling back, filling the Vacuity, following the Impulse, and accelerating the Motion. The Fall also of Thunderbolts is like to darting any thing. For by the Blow in the Cloud, the fiery Matter exploded, breaks into the Air, and it being broken, gives way, and being contracted above beyond itself, by main Force it presses the Thunder-bolt downward, contrary to Nature. And neither Amber nor the Load-stone draws any thing to them, which is near them, nor does any thing spontaneously approach them. But this ston emits strong Exhalations, by which the containing Air being impelled, forceth that before it, and being turned round, and returned to the vacuated place, it forcibly carries about the Iron. In Amber there is a flammeous and spirituous Nature, and this by rubbing on the Surface, being emitted by recluse Passages, does the same that the Loadstone does. It also draws the lightest and driest of adjacent Bodies, by reason of their Tenuity and Weakness; for it is not so strong, nor so endowed with Weight and Strength, as to force much Air, and to act with Violence, and to have Power over great Bodies, as the Magnet has. But what is the reason the Air neither draws a ston nor Wood, but Iron only to the Loadstone? This is a common Question both by them who think the Coition of these Bodies is made by the Contraction of the Loadstone, and by such as think it done by the Incitement of the Iron. Iron is neither so rare as Wood, nor altogether so solid as Gold or a ston, but has certain Pores and Asperities, which in inequality are proportionable to the Air, and the Air being received in certain Seats, cannot get out, and being comprehended by the Iron moderately resisting, as the Air returning the ston happens upon it, it draws the Iron along with it to the ston. And the reason is this. But the manner how the Waters running over the Earth, run against the Wind, is not so evident. But it is observable, that the Waters of Lakes and pounds stand immovable, because the Air about them stagnates immovable, and admits of no Vacuity. For the Water on the Surface of Lakes and Seas, is troubled and fluctuates, as the Air is moved, it following the Motion of the Air, and moving as it is moved. For the Force from below causes the Hollowness of the Wave, and from above the Swelling thereof, till the Air ambient, and containing the Water, is still. Therefore the Flux of such Waters, as follow the Motion of the Air, is continued without end. And this is the reason that the Stream increases with the Waters, and is slow, where the Water is weak, the Air not giving way, nor finding greater Resistance. So the Water of Fountains must needs run out, the extrinsic Air succeeding into the Vacuity, and throwing the Water out. In a close House, that keeps in the Air and Wind, the Floor sprinkled with Water causes an Air or Wind, because as the sprinkled Water falls, the Air gives way. For it is so provided by Nature, that Air and Water force one another, and give way to one another: because there is no Vacuity where one is, in which the other is not moved. Concerning Symphony, he shows how Sounds harmonize. A quick Sound is acute, a slow is grave. Therefore acute Sounds move the Senses quicker, which dying, and grave Sounds supervening, what arises from the Contemperation of one with the other, causes Pleasure to the Ear, which we call Harmony. And by what has been said, it may easily be understood, that Air is the Instrument of these things. For Sound is the stroke upon the Sense of the Hearer, caused by the Air, and the Air strikes, as it is struck by the thing moving; if violent, acutely; if languid, softly. The violent stroke comes quick to the Ear; then the Circumient Air receiving a slower, it affects and carries the Sense along with it.  
What means Timaeus, when he says, that Souls are dispersed into the Earth, the Moon, and into other Instruments of Time? Does the Earth move like the Sun, Moon, and five Planets, which for their Motions he calls Organs or Instruments of Time? Or is the Earth fixed to the Axis of the Universe, yet not so built as to remain immovable, but to turn and wheel about, as Aristarchus and Seleucus have shown since; Aristarchus only supposing it, Seleucus positively asserting it? Theophrastus writes how that Plato, when he grew old, repented him, that he had placed the Earth in the middle of the Universe, and not in its place. But is not this contradictory to Plato's Opinion elsewhere? In the Greek, instead of {αβγδ} it should be wrote {αβγδ}, taking the Dative Case instead of the Genitive, and so the Stars will not be said to be Instruments, but the Bodies of Animals; as Aristotle has defined the Soul to be an Act of a natural organick Body, having Life in Power. The Sense then must be this, That Souls are dispersed into meet, organical Bodies in Time. But this is far besides his Opinion. For it is not once but several times, that he calls the Stars Instruments of Time. As when he says, the Sun was made, as well as other Planets, for the Distinction and Conservation of the Numbers of Time. It is therefore most proper to understand here, the Earth to be an Instrument of Time, not that the Earth is moved, as the Stars are; but that they being carried about it, it standing still makes Sun-set and Sun-rising, by which, the first Measures of Time, Nights and Days are circumscribed. Wherefore he called it the infallible Guard and Artificer of Night and Day. For the Gnomons of Dials are Instruments and Measures of Time, not in being moved with the Shadows, but in standing still, they being like the Earth in interposing between the Sun, when it is down, as Empedocles says, That the Earth makes Night by intercepting Light. This therefore must be Plato's meaning. And so much the rather, if a Man do but consider, that the Sun is not absurdly, nor without probability said to be made for the Distinction of Time, nor the Moon and the rest of the Planets. For as in other respects the Dignity of the Sun is great; so by Plato in his republic, the Sun is called the King and Lord of the whole sensible Nature, as also the Good of the Intelligible. For it is said to be the Offspring of Good, it giving both Being and appearance to things visible; as it is from good that things intelligible are, and are understood. But that God having such a Nature, and so great Power, should be made for an Instrument of Time, and a sure Measure of the Difference that happens among the Orbs, as they are slow or swift in Motion, seems neither decent, nor highly rational. It must therefore be said to such as are startled at these things, that it is their Ignorance, to think that Time is the Measure of Motion, in respect of sooner or later, as Aristotle calls it; or quantity in Motion, as Speusippus; or an Interval of Motion, or a certain Nothing, as some of the stoics define it by an Accident, they not comprehending its Essence and Power, which Pindar has not ineptly expressed in these Words, Time, who surpasses all in the Seats of the blessed. Pythagoras, also, when he was asked, What Time was? answered, it was the Soul of the Heavens. For Time is no Affection o● Accident of Motion, but the Cause, Power, and Principle of that Symmetry and Order that confines all created Beings, by which the animated Nature of the Universe is moved: Or rather Motion, Order and Symmetry itself is called Time. For Walking without Stumbling, it justly administers all mortal Affairs. According to the Ancients, the Soul is a Number moving itself. Therefore Plato says that Time and Heaven were co-ëxistent, that Motion was before Heaven had Being; but so was not Time. For then there neither was Order, nor Measure, nor Determination; but indefinite Motion, as it were the formless and rude matter of Time. But when Matter was informed with Figures, and Motion with Conversions or Circuïtions, from that came the World; from this, Time. Both are Representations of God, the World of his Essence; Time of his Invisibility in Motion, as in Production God is the World. Therefore they say Heaven and Motion being bread together, will perish together, if ever they do perish. For nothing is generated without Time, nor is any thing intelligible without Eternity, as this endures for ever, and that never dies when once bread. Time therefore having a necessary Connexion and Affinity with Heaven, cannot be called simplo Motion, but as it were Motion in Order, having Terms and Periods; whereof, since the Sun is Praefect and Overseer, to determine, moderate, produce and observe Changes and Seasons, which( according to Heraclitus) produce all things, He is Coädjutor to the governing and chief God, not in trivial and little things, but in the greatest and most momentous Affairs.  
Since Plato in his Common-wealth, discoursing of the Faculties of the Soul, has very well compare● the Symphony of Reason, and of the i●ascible and concupiscent Faculty to the Harmony of the lowest, middle and highest Chord; some Men may inquire, whether he placed the rational or irascible Faculty in the middle: for he is not clear in the Point. Indeed according the Place of Parts, the Order of the irascible Faculty must be in the middle, and of the rational in the highest, which the Greeks call Hypate. For they of old called the Chief and Supreme Hypatos. So Xenocrates calls Jove, in respect of immutable things, Hypatos( or Highest) in respect of sublunary things, N●●●es( or lowest.) And long before him Homer ●●lls the chief G●d {αβγδ}, Highest of Rulers. And Nature has of due given the highest Place to what is most excellent, having placed Reason as a Steers-man in the Head, and the irascible Faculty at a Dista●c●, l●st of all and lowest, and the lowest place they call N●at●; as the Names of the Dead {αβγδ} and {αβγδ} do show. And s●me say, that the Winds which blow from a l●w and obscure place, are called N●tos. What Oppositi●n therefore the Lowest has to the Highest, and the ●●st to the First, since the Conc●●iscent Faculty stands in the same to Reason, the Lowest cannot be first, nor any thing highest but Reason. For they that ascribe the Ruling Power of the Middle to it, are ignorant how they deprive it of a higher Power, namely, of the highest, which is neither compatible to the irascible, nor to the concupiscent Faculty: since it is the Nature of them both to be governed by, and obsequious to Reason, and the nature of neither of them to govern and led it. And the most natural place of the irascible Faculty seems to be in the middle of the other two. For it is the Nature of Reason to govern, of the irascible Faculty both to govern and be governed, which is obsequious to Reason, and commands the Concupiscent Faculty, when this is disobedient to Reason. And as in Lett●rs t●e Semi-vowels are middling between Mutes and Vowels, these having something more, and they something less; so in the Soul of Man, the Irascible Faculty is not purely passive, but hath often an Imagination of Good mixed with the irrational Appetite of Revenge. Plato himself, after he had compared the Soul to a pair of Horses and a Charioteer, likened( as every one knows) the rational Faculty to the Charioteer, and the Concupiscent to one of the Horses, which was res●y and unmanageable altogether, bristly about the Ears, Deaf and Disobedient both to Whip and Spur, and the Irascible he makes very obsequious to the Bridle of Reason, and assistant to it. As therefore in a Chariot, the Charioteer is not middling in Virtue and Power, but one of the Horses is worse than his Guider, and yet better than his Fellow. So in the Soul, Plato gives not the middle place to the principal part; but to that Faculty which has less of Reason than the principal part, and more than the Third. This Order also observes the Analogy of the S●mphoni●s, i.e. of the Irascible to the Rational, as Hypate to Diatessaron; to the Concupiscent, as neat to Diapente. Of the Rational to the Concupiscent, as Hypate to neat a Diapason. But should you place the Rational in the middle, you would make the Irascible farther from the Concupiscent; thô some of the Philosophers have taken the Irascible and the Concupiscent Faculty for the self same, by reason of their Likeness. But it may be ridiculous to describe the First, Middle and Last by their Place; since we see Hypate highest in the Harp, lowest in the Pipe, and wheresoever you place the Mese in the Harp, provided it is tuneable, it sounds more acute than Hypate, and more grave than neat. Nor does the Eye possess the same place in all Animals; but wherever it is placed, it is natural for it to see. So a pedagogue, thô he goes not foremost, but follows behind, is said to led; like the General of the Trojan Army, 
Who sometimes fought in Front,  
And kept Command, thô he retired upon't.  But where ever he was, he was first, and chief in Power. So in like manner, the Faculties of the Soul are not to be ranged in order of Place or Name, but according to their Power and Analogy. For, that in the Body of Man, Reason is in the highest Place, is accidental. But it holds the chief and highest Power, as Mese to Hypate, in respect of the Concupiscent; as to neat, in respect of the Irascible. Insomuch as it depresses and heightens, and in fine, makes a Harmony, by abating what is too much, and by not suffering them to flat and grow dull. For what is moderate and symmetrous, is defined by Mediocrity. Besides, it is an Imperfection, to make the Mediocrities of the rational Power, which they call Sacred Beings, to be in the Passions. For in Chariots, the best of the Beasts is not in the middle; nor is the Skill of Driving placed in the highest Place; but it is a Mediocrity in the Inequality of the Swiftness and Slowness of the Horses. As the force of Reason takes up the Passions irrationally moved, and reducing it to Measure, constitutes a Mediocrity betwixt too much and too little.  
Why said Plato that Speech was composed of Nouns and Verbs? For he seems to make no other Parts of Speech but them. Indeed Homer, for the Help of Youth, has comprehended them all in one Verse.  {αβγδ}. 
For in it there is Pronoun, Participle, Noun, Preposition, Article, Conjunction, Adverb and Verb, the Particle {αβγδ} being put instead of the Preposition {αβγδ}, for {αβγδ} is said in the same Sense as {αβγδ}. What then shall we say for Plato? That at first the Ancients called that {αβγδ}, or Speech which is now called Protasis, Axiom, or Sentence; which as soon as a Man speaks, he either speaks true or false. This Speech consists of a Noun and Verb, which Logicians call the Subject and predicate. For when we hear this said Socrates philosophizeth, Socrates is changed, requiring nothing more, we say the one is true, the other is false. For very likely in the beginning Men wanted Speech and articulate Voice to enable them to express at once the Passions and the Patients, and the Actions and the Agents. Now, since Actions and Affections are lively expressed by Verbs, and they that act and are affencted by Nouns, as he says, these seem to signify. And one may say, the rest signify not. For instance, the Groans and Shrieks of Stage-players, and even their Smiles and Aposiopeses make their Discourse more emphatic. But they are not so necessary to signify any thing as a Noun and Verb, they being only ascititious, to vary Speech; just as they vary Letters, who mark Spirits and Quantities upon Letters, these being the Accidents and Differences of Letters. As the Ancients have made manifest, whom sixteen Letters sufficed to speak and writ any thing. Besides, we must observe, that Plato says, that Speech is composed of these, not by these: as if a Man should say such a Medicine is composed of Wax and Galbanum, and another should cavil at it, because Fire and Utensils are omitted, without which it cannot be made. Just so we may blame Plato for leaving out Conjunctions, Prepositions, and the like. For Speech is not composed of them; yet by their Means, and not without them, Speech must be composed. As, if a Man pronounce beateth, or is beaten, and put Socrates and Pythagoras to the same, he shows he understands or means something. But let a Man pronounce Yea or For, and no more, none can conceive any Notion of a Body or Matter, and unless such Words as these be uttered with Verbs and Nouns, they are but empty Noise and Chattering: for neither alone, nor joined one with another, do they signify any thing. And join and confounded together Conjunctions, Articles, and Prepositions, supposing you would make something of them; yet you will be taken to babble, and not to speak Sense. But when there is a Verb in construction with a Noun, the Result is Speech and Sense. Therefore some do make only these two Parts of Speech. And perhaps Homer was willing to declare himself of this Mind, when he says, — {αβγδ}. For by the Word {αβγδ} he usually means a Verb, as in these Verses.  {αβγδ}. 
And 
{αβγδ}  
{αβγδ}.   
For {αβγδ} is neither Conjunction, Article nor Preposition, nor is {αβγδ}, but only an emphatic Verb of a base Action, proceeding from a foolish Passion of the Mind. Therefore when we would praise or dispraise Poets or Writers, we are wont to say, such a Man uses attic and good Words, and such a one uses rascally Words; and none can say that Thucydides or Demosthenes ever used such Articles. What then( may some say) do the rest of the parts conduce nothing to Speech? I answer, they conduce, as Salt does to Victuals, or Water to Rice. But Euenus calls Fire the best sauce. Thô sometimes there is neither occasion for Fire to boil, nor for Salt to season our Food, which we have always occasion for. Nor has Speech always occasion for Articles. I think I may say it of the latin Tongue, which is now the universal Language, that it has taken away all Prepositions, saving a few, nor does it use any Articles, unless as Lace and Ornament to Nouns. Nor is it any Wonder, since Homer, who in fineness of Epick surpasses all Men, has put Articles only to a few Nouns, like Handles to Cans, or Crests to Helmets. And these Verses are remarkable, wherein the Articles are expressed, viz.  
{αβγδ}  
{αβγδ}—  
And {αβγδ} And some few besides. But in a thousand others, the Omission of the Article hinders neither Perspicuity nor Elegance of Phrase. Now neither an Animal, nor an Instrument, nor Arms, nor any thing else is more fine, efficacious, or grateful, for the loss of a part. Yet Speech, by taking away Conjunctions, often becomes more persuasive; as here, 
{αβγδ},  
{αβγδ}.  And that of Demosthenes, {αβγδ}. And further, does not Midias at this Day inv●ign, exclaim and thunder at the same ra●e? {αβγδ} Therefore the Figure Asyndeton, whereby Conjunctions ar●●mitted, is highly commended by Writers of rhetoric. But such as keep over strict to the Law, and( according to Custom) omit not a Conjunction, Rhetoricians blame them for using a dull, flat, tedious Style, without any Variety in it. And in as much as Logicians mightily want Conjunctions for the joining together of their Axioms, as much as Chario●eeers want yokes, and Ulysses wanted Withs to tie Cyclop's Sheep; this shows they are not parts of Speech, but a Conjunctive Instrument thereof, as the Word Conjunction imports, nor do they join all, but only such as are not spoken simply: Unless you will make a Cord part of the burden, glue a part of a Book, or Distribution of Money part of the Government. For Demades says, That Money which is given to the People out of the Exchequer for public Shows, is the glue of a Democracy. A Conjunction does just so of several Propositions make one, by knitting and joining them together, as melted Iron joins Marble; but yet Iron neither is, nor is said to be part of the Marble; only by being mixed and joined together, several things become one. But there be some, who think, that Conjunctions do not make any thing one, but that they are an enumerative Dialect, as of the Time when such and such were Magistrates. Moreover, as to the other parts of Speech, a Pronoun is manifestly a sort of Noun; not only because it has Cases alike, but because it naturally makes a proper Declaration of Notions brought from things defined: nor do I know whether he that says Socrates, or he that says This Man, does more by Name declare the Person. The thing we call a Participle, being a Mixture of a Verb and Noun, is nothing of itself( as are not the common Names of Men and Women) but in construction is put with others; in regard of Tenses belonging to Verbs, in regard of Cases to Nouns. Logicians call them {αβγδ}, i. e. broken or torn of, as {αβγδ} comes from {αβγδ}, and {αβγδ} from {αβγδ}, having the force both of Nouns and Verbs. And Prepositions are like to the Crests, Bars, and ties of a Helmet, which one may rather say, do belong to Words, than are Words themselves. Have you a care, they rather be not pieces and scraps of Words, as they that are in hast, writ but Dashes and Pieces of Letters. For it is plain, that {αβγδ} and {αβγδ} are Abbreviations of the whole Words, {αβγδ} and {αβγδ}, and {αβγδ} for {αβγδ}, and {αβγδ} for {αβγδ}. As, undoubtedly for hast and brevities sake, instead of {αβγδ} and {αβγδ}, Men first said {αβγδ} and {αβγδ}. Therefore every one of these is of some use in Speech; but nothing is a Part or Element of Speech( as has been said) except a Noun and a Verb, which make the first Juncture containing Truth or falsehood, which some call a Proposition or Protasis, others an Axiom, and which Plato called Speech.   

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Of Moral virtue.  Translated out of the Greek by C. H. Esq; 
MY Design in this Essay is to treat of that virtue, which is called and accounted, Moral, and is chiefly distinguished from the Contemplative in it's having for the Matter thereof, the Passions of the Mind, and for it's Form, Right Reason: And herein to consider the nature of it; how it subsists: And whether that Part of the Soul wherein it resides be endued with Reason, of it's own, inherent in itself, or whether it participates of that which is foreign; And if the latter; whether after the manner of those things which are mingled with what is better then themselves; or rather as being distinct itself, but yet under the Dominion and Superintendency of another, it may be said to partake of the Power of the predominant Faculty. For that it is possible for virtue to exist and continue altogether independent of Matter and free from all Mixture, I take to be most manifest. But in the first place I conceive it may be very useful briefly to run over the Opinions of other Philosophers, not so much for the vanity of giving an Historical Account thereof, as that they being premised Ours may thence receive the greater Light and be more firmly established.  
To begin then with Menedemus of Eretria he took away both the Number and the Differences of virtue, by asserting it to be but One although distinguished by several Names; Holding that in the same manner as a Mortal and a Man are all One, so what we call Temperance, Fortitude, and Justice are but one and the same thing. As for Ariston of Chio. He likewise made virtue to be but One in Substance and called it Sanity, which as it had respect to This, or That was to be variously multiplied and distinguished: Just after the the same manner as if any one should call our Sight when applied to any White Object by the Name of 
{αβγδ}.  White-look, when to one that is Black, by the Name of 
{αβγδ}.  Black-look, or by any other such like affencted Name, and so in other Matters. For according to him virtue when it considers such things as we either ought to do or not to do, is called Prudence; When it moderates our Desires, and prescribes the Measure and Season for our Pleasures, T●mperance; and when it governs the commerce and mutual Contracts of Mankind, J●s●●ce. In the same manner for instance as a Knife is one and ●●e same Knif● still notwithst●nding sometimes it cuts one thing, sometimes another, and just as Fire does operate upon different matter, and yet retain the ve●● same Nature. Unto which Opi●i●n, it seems also as if Zeno the Citie●n did in some measure incline; He defining Prudence while it distributes to every Man his own, to be Justice; When it te●ches wha● we are to choose and what to reject or avoid, Temperance; and with respect to what is to be born or suffered, Fortitude: But it is to be observed that they who take upon them the Defence of Zeno's Notions do suppose him to mean Science by what he calls Prudence. But then Chrysippus whilst he imagined from every distinct Quality a several and peculiar virtue to be formed, before he was ware Raised( as Plato has it) a whole swarm of virtues never before known or used among the Philosophers, for as from Brave, he derived Bravery; from mildred, Mildness; and from Just, Justice: so from Pleasant he fetched Pleasantness; from Good Goodness; from Grand Grandeur; and from Honest, Honesty; placing these and all kind of dexterous application of Discourse, all kind of Facetiousness of Conversation, and all witty Turns of Expression in the Number of virtues, thereby over-running Philosophy, which requires nothing less, with a multitude of uncouth, absurd and barbarous Terms.  
However all these do commonly agree in this one Thing, viz. in supposing Virtue to be a certain Disposition and Faculty of the governing and directive part of the Soul of which Reason is the Cause, or rather to be Reason itself, when it consents to what it ought, and is firm and immutable: And they do likewise think that part of the Soul which is the seat of the Passions, and called Brutal or Irrational, not to be at all distinct by any Physical Difference from that which is Rational, but that that part of the Soul( which they call Rational and Directive) being wholly turned about and changed by it's Affections, and by those several Alterations which are wrought in it with respect either to Habit or Disposition, becometh either 'vice or virtue, without having any thing in itself that is really Brutal or Irrational. But is then called Brutal or Irrational, when by the over-ruling and prevailing Violence of our Appetites it is hurried on to something absurd and vicious against the judgement of Reason. For that, Passion, according to them, is nothing else but depraved and insemperate reason, that through a perverse and vicious judgement is grown over vehement and headstrong.  
Now it seems to me, all these Philosophers were perfect strangers to the clearness and truth of this Point, That we Every one of us are in reality Twofold and Compound: For discerning only that Composition in us which of the two is most evident, namely that of the Soul and the Body; of the other they knew nothing at all. And yet that in the Soul itself also there is a certain Composition of two dissimilar and distinct Natures, the Brutal Part whereof as another Body is necessary and physically compounded with and conjoined to Reason, was, it should seem, no secret to Pythagoras himself: As some have guessed from his having introduced the Study of music amongst his Scholars, for the more easy calming and assuaging the Mind: as well knowing that It is not in every part of it Obedient and Subject to Precepts and Discipline, nor indeed by Reason only to be recovered and retreived from 'vice, but requires some other kind of persuasives to cooperate with it, to dispose it to such a temper and gentleness as that it may not be utterly intractable and obstinate to the Precepts of Philosophy. And Plato very strongly and plainly without the least hesitation maintained the Soul of the Universe to be neither simplo, uniform nor uncompounded; But that being mixed, as it were, and made up of That which is always the same and of That which is otherwise in some places it is continually governed and carried about after an uniform manner in one and the same powerful and predominant Order, and in other places is divided into Motions and Circles one contrary to the other, unsettled and fortuitous, whence are derived the Beginnings and Generation of all Things. And so in like manner the Soul of Man being a part or portion of That of the Universe, and framed upon reasons and proportions answerable to it, cannot be simplo and all of the same Nature, but must have One part that is Intelligent and rational, which naturally ought to have Dominion over a Man: And Another which being Subject to Passions, Irrational, extravagant and unbounded stands in need of direction and restraint. And This last is again subdivided into Two other parts, One whereof being always Corporeal is called Concupiscible; and the Other, which sometimes taking part with this, and sometimes with Reason gives respectively to either of them Strength and vigour, is called Irascible. And that which chiefly discovers the difference between the One and the Other, are the frequent Contests of the Intellect and Reason with Conoupiscence and Anger, it being the Nature of things that are different amongst themselves to be often times repugnant and disobedient to what is best of all.  
These Principles at first Aristotle seems most to have relied upon, as plainly enough appears from what he has written: Thô afterwards he confounded the Irascible and Concupiscible together, by joining the one to the other, as if Anger were nothing but a Thirst and Desire of Revenge: However to the last he constantly maintained that the Sensual and Irational was wholly distinct from the Intellectual and Rational part of the Soul; not that it is so absolutely devoid of Reason neither as those Faculties of the Soul which are Sensative, Nutritive and Vegetative, and are common to us with Brute-Beasts and Plants. For These are always deaf to the Voice of Reason and uncapable of it, and may in some sort be said to derive themselves from Flesh and Blood, and to be inseparably attached to the Body and devoted to the service thereof; but the Other Sensual Part subject to the sudden Efforts of the Passions and destitute of any Reason of its own, is yet nevertheless naturally adapted to hear and obey the Intellect and judgement, to have regard to it, and to submit itself to be regulated and ordered according to the Rules and Precepts thereof, unless it happen to be utterly corrupted and vitiated by Pleasure, which is deaf to all instruction and by a luxurious way of Living.  
As for those who wonder how it should come to pass, that, that which is Irrational itself, should yet become obsequious to the dictates of Right Reason, they seem to me, not to have duly considered the Force and Power of Reason, how great and extensive it is, and how far it is able to carry and extend it's Authority and command, not so much by harsh and Arbitrary methods, as by soft and gentle means, which persuade more, and gain Obedience sooner then all the Severities and Violences in the World. For even the Spirits, the Sinews, Bones, and other parts of the Body, are destitute of Reason, but yet no sooner do they feel the least Motion of the Will, shaking, as it were,( though never so gently) the Reins of Reason, but all of them Observe their proper Order, agree together and pay a ready Obedience. As for instance, the Feet, if the Impulse of the Mind be to run, immediately betake themselves to their Office; Or if the Motion of the Will be, for the throwing or lifting up of any thing, the Hands in a moment fall to their business. And this Sympathy and Consent of the Brutal Faculties to Right Reason, and the ready Conformity of them thereto Homer has most admirably expressed in these Verses.  
In tears dissolved She mourns her Consorts Fate,  
So great her sorrows, scarce her charms more great.  
Her tears Compassion in Ulysses move,  
And fill his Breast with Pity and with Love;  
Yet Artful he his Passion secret keeps,  
It rages in his Heart; And there he inward weeps.  
Like Steel or Ivory, his fixed Eye-balls stand,  
Placed by some Statuaries skilful hand;  
And when a gentle fear would force it's way,  
He hides it falling or Commands it's stay.  
Under such perfect Subjection to his Reason and judgement had he even his Spirits, his Blood and his Tears. A most evident Proof of this Matter we have also from hence, that our natural Desires and Motions are as soon repressed and quieted as we know we are either by Reason or Law forbidden to approach the Fair Ones we at the first view had so great a Passion for: A thing which most commonly happens to those who are apt to fall in Love at sight with beautiful Women without knowing or examining who they are; for no sooner do they afterwards find their Error, by discovering the Person with whose charms they were before captivated to be a Sister or a Daughter, but their flamme is presently extinguished, by the interposition of Reason. And Flesh and Blood is immediately brought into order and becomes obedient to the judgement. It often falls out likewise, that after we have Eaten some kinds of Meat or Fish( finely dressed, and by that means artificially disguised,) with great pleasure and a very good Stomach, at the first moment we understand they were either unclean or unlawful and forbidden, Our judgement being thereby shocked, we feel not only remorse and trouble in our Mind, but the conceit reaches further, and our whole Frame is disordered by the nauseous qualms and vomitings thereby occasioned. I fear I should be thought on purpose to hunt after too far-fetched and youthful instances to insert in this Discourse, if I should take notice of the Lute, the Harp, the Pipe and the Flute, and such like Musical Instruments invented by Art and adapted to the Raising or Allaying of Human Passions: Which though they are voided of Life and Sense do yet most readily accommodate themselves to the judgement, to our Passions and our Manners, either indulging our Melancholy, increasing our Mirth, or feeding our wantonness as we happen at that time to be disposed. And therefore it is reported of Zeno himself that going one day to the Theatre, to hear Amoebeus Sing to the Lute, he called to his Scholars, Come, says he, Let us go and learn what Harmony and music, the Guts and Sinews of Beasts, nay even Wood and Bones are capable of by the help of Numbers, Proportion and Order.  
But to let these things pass I would gladly know of them, whether when they see domestic Animals, as Dogs, Horses or Birds by use, feeding and teaching, brought to so high a degree of perfection, as that they shall utter articulately some senseful words; and by their Motions, Gestures and all their Actions shall approve themselves governable, and become useful to us: And when also they find Achilles in Homer encouraging Horses as well as Man to Battle; whether, I say, after all this, they can yet make any wonder or doubt whether those Faculties of the Mind to which we owe our Anger, our Desires, our Joys and our Sorrows, be of such a Nature that they are capable of being Obedient to Reason, and so affencted by it, as to consent and become entirely Subject, to it: Considering especially that these Faculties are not seated without us, or separated from us, or formed by any thing which is not in us, or hammered out by force and violence: but as they have by Nature their entire dependence upon the Soul so they are ever conversant and bread up with it, and also receive their final compliment and perfection from use, custom and practise for which reason the Greeks very properly call Manners {αβγδ}: For they are nothing else in short but certain Qualities of the Irrational and Brutal part of the Mind, and hence by them are so name in that this Brutal and Irrational part of the Mind being formed and moulded by Right Reason, by long Custom and Use, which they call {αβγδ}, has these Qualities or Differences stamped upon it. Not that Reason so much as attempts, to eradicate our Passions and Affections, which is neither possible nor expedient, but only to keep them within due bounds, reduce them into good Order, and so direct them to a good End; and thus maketh Moral virtue to consist not in a kind of Insensibility or total Freedom from Passions, but in the well ordering our Passions, and keeping them within measure, which is effected by Wisdom and Prudence, bringing the Faculties of that part of the Soul where our Affections and Appetite are seated to a good Habit. For these Three things are commonly held to be in the Soul, namely, a Faculty or Aptitude, Passion, and Habit. This Aptitude or Faculty then is the Principle or very Matter of Passions, as for Example, the Power or Aptitude to be Angry, to be Ashamed, to be Confident and Bold, or the like; Passion is the actual Exercise of that Aptitude or Faculty, as Anger, shane, Confidence or Boldness; and Habit is the strength, firmness and establishment of the Disposition or Faculty in the Irra ●●nal part of the Soul gotten by continual Use and Custom, and which according as the Passions are well or ill governed and directed, becomes either virtue or 'vice.  
But Forasmuch as Philosophers do not make all virtue to consist in a Mediocrity, nor call it Moral; to show the difference more clearly it will be necessary to take our rise a little further off. Of all things then in the Universe some do exist absolutely, simply and for themselves only, others again relatively for and with regard to us. Among those things which have an Absolute and simplo Existence, are the Earth, the Heavens, the Stars and the Sea, and of such things as have their Being relatively with respect to us are Good and Evil, things desirable and to be avoided, and Things pleasant and hurtful. And seeing that both are the proper Objects of Reason; while it considers the former which are absolutely and for themselves, it is Scientifical and Contemplative; and when the other which have reference to us, it is Deliberative and Practical: And as the proper virtue in the latter case is Prudence, in the former it is Science. And between the one and the other namely between Prudence and Science there is this difference, that Prudence consists in a certain Application and Relation of the Contemplative Faculties of the Soul to those which are Practical, for the Government of the Sensual and Irrational Part according to Reason, to which purpose Prudence has often need of Fortune: Whereas neither of that nor of Deliberation has Science any occasion or want to attain it's ends; forasmuch as it has nothing to consider but such things as remain always the same: For as a Geometrician never deliberates about a Triangle whether all its three Angles be equal to two right Angles, because of that he has a clear and distinct knowledge: And Men use to deliberate about such things only as are sometimes in one state or condition and sometimes in another, and not of those which are always firm and immutable: so the Mind when merely Contemplative exercising itself about first Principles and things permanent, such as retaining the same nature are incapable of mutation, has no room or occasion for Deliberation. Whereas Prudence, descending to Actions full of Error and Confusion, is very often under the necessity of encountering with fortuitous accidents, and in doubtful Cases of making use of Deliberation, and to reduce those Deliberations into practise, of calling also to its Assistance even the Irrational Faculties, Which are( as it were) forcibly dragged to go along with and by that means to give a certain vigour or Impetus to its Determinations. For its Determinations do indeed want something which may campaign and give them such an Impetus: And Moral virtue it is which gives an Impetous or vigour to the Passions; but at the same time Reason which accompanies that Impetous, and of which it stands in great need, does so set Bounds thereunto that nothing but what is Moderate appears, And that it neither out-runs the Proper Seasons of Action, nor yet falls short of them.  
For the Sensual Faculties where the Passions are seated, are subject to Motions, some over-vehement, sudden and quick, and others again too remiss and more slow and heavy then is convenient, so that though every thing we do can be Good but in one manner, yet may it be Evil in several, as there is but one single way of hitting the mark, but to miss it a great many, either by shooting over or under or on one side. The business therefore of Practical Reason governing our Actions according to the Order of Nature, is to correct the Excesses as well as the Defects of the Passions by reducing them to a true Mediocrity. For as when through infirmity of the Mind, effeminacy, fear or laziness the vehemence and keeness of the Appetites are so abated, that they are ready to sink and fall short of the Good at which they are aimed and directed, there is then this Practical Reason at hand exciting and rousing and pushing them onward; so on the other hand when it lashes out too far and is hurried beyond all measure, there also is the same Reason ready to bring it again within compass and put a stop to its carrier: And thus prescribing Bounds and giving Law to the Motions of the Passions it produces in the Irrational Part of the Soul these Moral virtues,( of which we now treat) which are nothing else but the mean between Excess and Defect. For it cannot be said that all virtue consists in Mediocrity, since Wisdom or Prudence,( one of the Intellectual virtues) standing in no need of the Irrational Faculties, as being seated in that Part of the Soul which is pure and immixed and free from all Passions, is of itself absolutely perfect, the utmost Extremity and Power of Reason, whereby we attain to that perfection of knowledge which is itself most Divine and renders us most Happy. Whereas Moral virtue, which because of the Body is so necessary, to us, and to put things in practise stands in need of the Instrumental Ministry of the Passions,( as being so far from promoting the Destruction and Abolition of the Irrational Powers as to be altogether employed in the due regulation thereof) is with respect to its Power or Quality the very top and extremity of Perfection, but in respect of the proportion and quantity, which it determines, it is Mediocrity, in that it takes away all Excess on the one hand, and cures all Defects on the other.  
Now Mean or Mediocrity may be differently understood. For there is one mean which is compounded and made up of the two simplo extremes, as in colours, Gray, of White and Black; and another, where that which contains and is contained, is the Medium between the containing and the contained, as, for instance, the Number VIII, between XII and IV. And a third sort there is also, which participates of neither extreme, as for Example, all those things which as being neither Good nor Evil in themselves we call Adiaphorous or Indifferent. But in none of these ways can virtue be said to be a M●●●●● Mediocrity: For neither is it a mixture of Vices; ●o● comprehending that which is defective and short, is it comprehended by that which runs out into Excess; Nor yet is it exempt from the Impetuosity, and sudden Efforts of the Passions, in which Excess and Defect do properly take place. But Moral virtue properly doth and so is commonly taken, especially to consist in a Mean or Mediocrity most like to that which there is in our Greek music and Harmony, whereas there are the highest and lowest Musical Notes in the extremities of the Scale, called 
{αβγδ}.  neat and Hypate, so likewise is there in the middle thereof between these two another Musical Note, and that the sweetest of all, called 
{αβγδ}.  Mesé( i.e. mean) which doth as perfectly avoid the extreme sharpness of the one, as it doth the over flatness of the other. And so also virtue being a Motion and Power which is exercised about the Brutal and Irrational Part of the Soul takes away the Remission and intention and in a word the Excess and Defect of the Appetites reducing thereby every one of the Passions to a due Mediocrity and perfect State of Rectitude.  
To begin then with Fortitude; that is said to be the mean between cowardice and Rashness, whereof the one is a Defect, as the other is an Excess of the Irascible Faculty; Liberality between sordid Parsimony on the one hand and extravagant Prodigality on the other; Clemency between Insensibility of injuries, and its opposite revengeful Cruelty; and so of Justice and Temperance; the former being the mean between giving and distributing more or less then is due in all Contracts, Affairs and Business between Man and Man, and the latter a just Mediocrity between a stupid Apathy touched with no sense or relish of Pleasure, and dissolute softness abandoned ●o all manner of Sensualities.  
And hence( namely from this instance of Temperance) it is that we are most clearly given to understand the difference between the Irrational and the Rational Faculties of the Soul, and that it so plainly appears to us, that the Passions and Affections of the Mind are quiter a distinct thing from Reason. For otherwise never should we be able to distinguish ꝯtinence from Temperance, nor Incontinence from Intemperance in Lust and Pleasures, if it were one and the same Faculty of the Soul, wherewith we Reason and Judge, and whereby we Desire and Covet. Now Temperance is that whereby Reason governs and manages,( as it were some Wild Creature brought up by hand and made quiter tame and gentle) that part of the Soul which is subject to the Passions, having gained an absolute Victory over all it's Appetites, and brought them entirely under the Dominion of it. Whereas we call it ꝯtinence, when Reason has indeed gained the Mastery over the Appetites and prevail against them, though not so clearly and indisputably, but that, They being perverse and continuing to struggle, as not having wholly submitted themselves, it is not without great difficulty able to preserve its Government over them, being forced to retain and hold them in, and keep them within compass as it were with stripes with the Bit and Bridle, while the mind all the time is full of nothing but Agony, Contentions and Confusion. All which Plato endeavours to illustrate by a similitude of the Chariot-Horses of the Soul the one whereof being more unruly not only kicks and flings at him that is more gentle and tractable but also thereby so troubles and disorders the driver himself, that he is forced sometimes to hold him hard in, and sometimes again to give him his head Least from his hands the Purple Reins should slip. as Symonides speaks,  
And from hence we may see why ꝯtinence is not thought worthy to be placed in the number of perfect virtues, but is taken to be a degree under virtue. For there is not therein produced a Mediocrity arising from a Symphony of the worst with the better, nor are the Excesses of the Passions retrenched; nor yet doth th● Appetite become obedient and subservient to the reasonable Faculties, but both makes and feel● disorder a●● disturbance, being repressed by violence and constrain● and, as it were by necessity, as in a Sedition or Faction in a City or State, the contending Parties breathing nothing but War and destruction and ruin to one another do yet cohabit together,( it may be) within the compass of the same Walls; insomuch that the Soul of the Incontinent Person with respect to the conflicts and incongruities therein may very properly be compared to the City, 
Wherein all sorts of Luxury abound;  
Where with Huzza's and groans the Streets resound.  And upon the same Grounds it is that Incontinence is held to be something less then 'vice also, but Intemperance to be a complete and perfect 'vice; for that therein not the Appetite only but Reason likewise is debauched and corrupted, and as the former incites and bushes forward the Desires and Affections to that which is Evil, so this by making an ill judgement is easily lead to consent and agree to the soft whispers and tempting allurements of corrupt Lusts and Passions, and soon loseth all Sense of sin and evil: Whereas Incontinence preserves the judgement, by the help of Reason right and sound, but yet by the irresistible Force and Violence of the Passions is even against judgement drawn away. Moreover in these respects following it differeth also from Intemperance: Inasmuch as Reason in that is over-powered by Passion, but in this it never so much as struggleth: The incontinent Person after a noble resistance is at last forced to submit to the Tyranny of his Lusts and follow their guidance, but the intemperate approves them, and glady goes along with and submits to them; He feels remorse for the Evil he commits, while the other prides himself in Lewdness and 'vice; Again the one wilfully and of his own accord runs into sin, while the other even against his Will is forced to abandon that which is good.  
And this difference between them is not to be collected only from their Actions, but may as plainly aso be discovered by their words. For at this rate do intemperate Persons use to talk, 
What Fop would quit Loves Pleasures for a Crown?  
Or live without them were the World his own?  
'tis Love that makes the nauseous Drought of Life go down.  And thus says another, 
The Joys of Wine and Beauty once secured,  
The rest of Life perhaps may be endured,   
As if from his very Soul he were wholly abandoned and given up to Pleasures and Voluptuousness, and even overwhelmed therein. And much of the same Mind was he, and his judgement as totally depraved by his Passions who said, 
Let me, ye dull and Formal Fops, alone,  
I am resolved, 'tis best to be undone.  But quiter another Spirit do we find running through the Sayings of the Incontinent, 
Blame Nature only for it, blame not me,  
Would she permit, I then should virtuous be.  Says one of them. And another, 
Ah! 'tis decreed by Fate: We know, 'tis true,  
We know those virtues, which we ne're pursue.  And a Third, 
What will my swelling Passions Force assuage?  
No more can I sustain this Tempest's Rage,  
Then Anchors flock, dropped on loose ground, a Storm.  Where and not improperly he compares the flock of an Anchor dropped in loose ground, to that ill grounded, feeble and irresolute Reason which by the Vanity, Weakness and Luxury of the Mind is easily brought to forsake the judgement. And the like Metaphor has another made use of happily enough in these Verses 
To us, in Ships, moored near the Shore who lie,  
( Tho' strong the Cables;) when the Winds rise high,  
Cables will prove but 
{αβγδ}( non, ut male in vulgat. {αβγδ}) cum Turnebo, Camerario, &c. Plutarchum scripsisse puto.  small Security.  Where by the Cables the Poet means the judgement opposing itself against all that is Evil or Dishonest, which is however oftentimes disturbed and broken by violent and sudden Gusts of the Passions. For, indeed, the Intemperate are born away directly and with full Sail to their Pleasures, to them they deliver up themselves entirely, and thither it is they bend their whole course. While the Incontinent; indirectly only as endeavouring to sustain and repel the Assaults of the Passions and withstand their Temptations, is either alured and does as it were slide into Evil, or else is plunged violently into it whether he will or no. As Timo in his bitter way of Railleur reproaches Anaxarchus, 
When first the dogged Anaxarchus striven  
The Power of virtue o'er his Mind to prove,  
Firm, though he seemed, and obstinately good,  
In vain th' Impulse of Temper he withstood.  
Nature recoil'd whatever he could do,  
He saw those ills, which yet he did pursue:  
In this not single other Sophists too  
Felt the same Force, which they could n're subdue,  And neither is a Wise-man, Continent but Temperate, nor a Fool, Incontinent, but Intemperate, the one taking true pleasure and delight in Good, the other having no displeasure against Evil. And therefore Incontinence is said to be found only in a Mind that is Sophistical,( or which barely makes a show of being governed and directed by Prudence,) and which has indeed the use of Reason but in so weak and faint a manner, that it is not able to persevere in that which it know● to be right.  
And thus having seen the diversity between Incontinence and Intemperance; as for ꝯtinence and Intemperance, their Differenc●s are Analogous and be●● proporti●n to those of the other, bu● in contrary respects. For Remorse, Grief and Indigna●ion do always accompany ꝯtinence; whereas in the Mind of a Temperate ●●●son there is all over such an Evenness, Ca●m and Firmness, that seeing with what wonderful easiness and tranquillity the Irrational Faculties go alo●g with Reason and submit to i●s Directions, one cannot but cal● to Mind th●t of the Poet, 
Swift the Command ran through the raging deep,  
Th' Obedient Waves compose themselv s to sleep.  Reason h●ving quiter deadened and repress'd t●e vehement, raging, and fur 〈◇〉 M●●i●ns of the Passions and ●●●ections: And th●s● ●●so whose assistance Nature does necessari●y require, a●e by it rend●●d so agreeable and cons●●●ing, so subm●ssive, f●●endly and c●operative in the Execution of all good Designs and Purposes, that they neither out-run it, nor recede from it, nor behave themselves disorderly, nor ever show the least Disobedience; but every Appetite willingly and cheerfully pursues it's dictates.  As Sucking Foal runs by his Mother-Mare. 
Which very much confirms what was said by Xenocrates of those who are true Philosophers, namely, that they alone do that voluntarily, which all others do against their Wills for fear of the Laws: Being diverted and restrained from the pursuit of their Pleasures, as it were by the Hazard and Apprehension of being bitten by a mad Dog, or an Antipathy, 
Lego {αβγδ} ut ex M. S S. reponendum esse pro {αβγδ} censet Xylander in Annotat. ad loc.  dread and honour for a Wild Cat, having regard to nothing else in the Matter but their own Danger.  
It is manifest then from what has been discoursed, that the Soul does perceive within it self, something that is firm and immovable, totally distinct from it's Passions and Appetites, as being what it does always oppose and is ever contending with. But some there are nevertheless, who Affirm that Reason and Passion do not materially differ from one another; and that there is not in the Soul any Faction, Sedition or Dissension, of two several and contending Faculties, but only a shifting, conversion or Alternation of the same Reason or Rational Faculty from one side to the other backward and forward, which by reason of the suddeness and swiftness of the change is not perceptible by us; and therefore that we do not 
Pro {αβγδ}, ut pessimè habetur in vulgat. legere placuit {αβγδ},& sic pulchrè coherent omnia.  consider that the same Faculty of the Soul is by Nature so adapted as to be capable both of Concupiscence and Repentance or coming to itself again; of Anger and of Fear; of being drawn to the Commission of any Lewdness or Evil by the Allurements of Pleasure, and afterwards of being again retrieved from it. And as for Lust, Anger, Fear and such like Passions, they will have them to and nothing but perverse Opinions and false Judgments, not arising or formed in any inferior Part of the Soul, peculiarly belonging to them, but being the advances and returns or the Motions forward and backward, the good liknings and more vehement Efforts, and in a word such Operations and Energies of the whole rational and directive Faculty as are ready to be turned this way or that with the greatest ease imaginable, like the sudden Motions and eruptions in Children, the violence and impetuosity whereof by reason of their imbecility and weakness are very fleeting and inconstant.  
But these Opinions are against common Sense and Experience, for no Man ever felt such a sudden change in himself, as that whenever he choose any thing, he immediately judged it fit to be chosen, or that on the other hand, whenever he judged any thing fit to be chosen, he immediately made choice of it. Neither does the Lover who is convinced by Reason that his Amour is fit to be broken off, and that he ought to strive against his Passion, therefore immediately cease to Love; nor on the other side doth he desist reasoning and cease from being able to give a right judgement of things even then, when being softened and overcome by Luxury he delivers himself up a Captive to his Lusts: But as while by the Assistance of Reason he makes opposition to the Efforts of his Passions, they yet continue to solicit and at last overcome him, so likewise when he is overcome and forced to submit to them by the light of Reason does he plainly discern and know that he has done amiss; so that neither by the Passions is Reason Effaced and destroyed nor yet by Reason is he rescued and delivered from them, but being tossed to and fro between the one and the other, he is a kind of Neuter and participates in common of them both. And those, methinks, who imagine that one while the Directive and Rational Part of the Soul is changed into Concupiscence and Lust, and that by and by Reason opposes itself against them, and they are changed in to that, are not much unlike them, who make the Sports-man and his Game not to be two but one Body, which by a nimble and Dexterous Mutation of itself, one while appears in the shape of the Huntsman, and at another turn puts on the Form of a Wild Beast: For as these in a plain evident matter seem to be stark Blind, so they in the other Case bely even their own Senses, seeing they must needs feel in themselves not only a change or mutation of one and the same thing, but a down-right struggle and quarrel between two several and distinct Faculties.  
But is not say they the Deliberative Power and Faculty of a Man often divided in it self and distracted among several Opinions contrary to one another about that which is expedient, and yet is but one, simplo uniform thing. All this we grant to be true, but it does not reach the Case we are speaking of; for That part of the Soul where Reason and judgement are seated is not at Variance with itself but by one and the same Faculty is conversant about different Reasonings, or rather there is but one simplo Power of Reasoning which employs itself on several Arguments as so many different Subject Matters. And therefore it is that no disturbance or uneasiness accompanies those Reasonings or Deliberations, where the Passions do not at all interpose: Nor are we at any time forced as it were, to choose any thing contrary to the dictates of our own Reason, but, when as in a balance, some lurking hidden Passion lays something in the Scale against Reason to weigh it down. And this often falls out to be the case, where it is not Reasoning that is opposed to Reasoning, but either Ambition, or Emulation, or Favour or Jea●ousie or Fear, making a show as if there were a variance or contest between two differing Reasons according to that of 〈◇〉.  shane in denial, in acceptance Fear; 
And of another Poet.  
Hard fate to fall, but yet a glorious fate,  
'tis cowardly to live, but yet 'tis sweet:  
And as in determining of Controversies about Contr●cts between Man and Man, 'tis by the Interposition of the Passions that so many disputes and delays are Created. So likewise in the Consultations and Counsels of Kings they who design to make their Court, incline not to one side of the Question or Debate more then the other upon the Reason of the thing, but only to serve and gratify their Masters or their own Passions, without any regard to the Interest of the public. Which is the Reason that in Aristocratical Governments the Magistrates will not suffer Orators in their Pleadings by D●claiming and Haranguing to raise the Passions and move the Affections. For Reason not being disturbed or diverted by Passion tends directly to that which is Honourable and Just, but if the Passions are once raised, there immediately follows a mighty controversy and struggle between Pleasure and Grief on the one hand and Reason and judgement on the other. For otherwise how comes it to pass that in Philosophical disputes and disquisitions we so often and with so little trouble are by others drawn off from, and wrought upon to change our own Opinions? And that Aristotle himself, Democritus and Chrysippus have without any concern or regret of Mind, nay even with great satisfaction to themselves retracted some of those Points which they formerly so much approved of and were wont so stiffly to maintain? For no Passions residing in the Contemplative and Scientifical Part of the Soul to make any tumult or disturbance therein, the Irrational and Brutal Faculties remain quiet and calm, without busying themselves to intermeddle in Matters of that kind: by which means it falls out that Reason no sooner comes within view of Truth but rejecting that which is false, it readily embraces it; for as much as there is in the former what is not to be found in the other, namely, a willingness to assent and disagree as there is occasion, whereas in all Deliberations had, Judgments made, and Resolutions taken about such things as are to be reduced into practise, and are mixed and interwoven with the Passions and Affections, Reason meets with much opposition, and is put under great difficulties, by being stopped and interrupted in it's Course by the Brutal Faculties of the Mind, throwing in it's way either Pleasure or Fear or Grief or Lust or some such like temptation or discouragement. And then the decision of these Disputes belongs to Sense which is equally affencted with both the one and the other; and which soever of them gets the Mastery, the other is not thereby destroyed, but,( thô struggling and resisting all the while) forced only to comply and go along with the Conqueror. As an Amorous Person for Example, finding himself engaged in an Amour he cannot approve has immediate recourse to his Reason, to oppose the Force of that against his Passion, as having them both together actually subsisting in his Soul, plainly discerning them to be several and distinct, and feeling a sensible conflict between the two, while he endeavours as it were with his hand to repress and keep down that part which is inflamed and rages so violently within him. But on the contrary in those deliberations and disquisitions where the Passions have nothing to do, such I mean as belong properly to the Contemplative Part of the Soul, if the Reasons are equally balanced, not inclining more to one side then another, then is there no determinate judgement formed, but there remains a doubting, as if there were a Rest or suspense of the Understanding between two contrary Opinions. But if there happen to be any Inclination or Determination towards one side, that prevailing must needs get the better of the other, but without any regret or obstinate opposition from it against the Opinion which is received. In short whenever the contest seems to be of Reason against Reason, in that case we have no manner of Sense of two distinct Powers, but of one simplo uniform Faculty only, under different Apprehensions or Imaginations; but when the dispute is between the Irrational Part and Reason, where Nature has so ordered it that neither the Victory nor the Defeat can be had without anxiety and regret, there immediately the two contending Powers divide the Soul in the Quarrel, and thereby make the difference and distinction between them to be most plain and evident.  
And not only from their contests, but no less also from the consequences that follow thereupon, may one clearly enough discern the source and Original of the Passions to be different from that of Reason. For seeing that a Man may set his Affection upon an ingenuous and virtuously disposed Child, and no less also upon one that is naughty and dissolute; and seeing also one may have unreasonable and indecent transports of Anger against his Children or his Parents; and on the contrary may justly and unblamably be Angry in their Defence against their Enemies and Tyrants; as in the one case there is perceived a struggle and dispute of the Passions against Reason, so in the other may be seen a ready submission and agreement of them, running to it's Assistance, and lending as it were their helping hand. To illustrate this with a familiar Example, after a Good Man has in Obedience to the Laws Married a convenient Wife, he then in the first place comes to a resolution of conversing and cohabiting with her wisely and honestly, and of making at least a civil Husband, but in process of time, Custom and constant Familiarity having bread within him a true Passion for her, he sensibly finds that upon Principles of Reason his Affection and Love for her is every day more and more improved and grows upon him. As in like manner, Young Men having met with kind and gentle Masters, to guide and inform their Minds in the Study of Philosophy and the Sciences, make use of them at first for Instruction only and Information, but afterwards come to have such an Affection for them, that of famili●r Companions and scholars they become their Lovers and Admirers and are so accounted. And the same happens also to most Men with respect to good Magistrates in the Common-wealth; to their Neighbours; and to their Kindred; for beginning an Acquaintance upon Necessity and Interest, for the Exchange of the Common Offices of Intercourse and Commerce with one another, they do afterwards by degrees,' ere they are ware grow to have a Love and Friendship for them, Reason in such and the like cases having overpersuaded and even compelled the Passions to take delight in and pursue what it before had approved of and consented to. As for the Poet who said, 
Tho' Modesty our highest Praise deserve,  
Small ●rais● it is, for Modesty, to starve,  doth he not plainly hereby intimate that he had oftentimes found by Experience that this Affection of the Mind by a sheepish, shamefaced backwardness, and by foolishly bashful delays against all Reason had lost him the Opportunities and Seasons of making his Fortune and hind●e▪ and disappointed many brave Actions and noble Enterprizes.  
But these Men, thô by the Force of these Arguments sufficiently convinced, do yet seek for Evasions, by calli●g shane, by the Name of Modesty; Pleasures, by that of Joy; and Fear, by that of Caution: No Man going about to blame them for giving things the softest Names they can invent, if they would be so just as to bestow these good Words upon those Passions and Affections only which have put themselves under the conduct and direction of Reason, and leave those which oppose Reason, and offer Violence to it to be called by their own proper and odious Names; but when fully convinced by the tears they  shed, by the trembling of their joints, and by their sudden changing of Colour back and forward, if instead of plainly calling the Passions, whereof these are the effects, Grief and Fear, they make use of the Phantastic Terms of Compunctions and Conturbations, and to varnish over and disguise the Lusts and Affections give them the Name only of so many forwardnesses of Mind and I know not what else, they seem not to act like Philosophers, but relying upon little shifts and Sophistical Artifices, under an Amusement of strange Words, vainly hope to cover and conceal the Nature of things.  
And yet even These Men themselves sometimes make use of very proper Terms to express these Matters, as for instance, when they call those Joys, Volitions and Cautions of theirs, not by the Name of Apathies as if they were devoid of all manner of Passion; But of Eupathies, that is to say good Affections well disposed. For then is there said to be an Eupathy or good Disposition of the Affections, When Reason has not utterly destroyed, but composed and adjusted them in the Mind of Discreet and Temperate Persons. But what then becomes of Vicious and Dissolute Persons? Why if they should judge it reasonable to love their Parents instead of a Mistress or a Gallant, this they are not able to perform; But should they judge it fitting to set their Hearts upon a Strumpet or a Parasite, The judgement is no sooner made, but they are most desperately in Love. Now were the Passions and judgement or Reason all one, it could not be but that the Passions of Love and Hatred would immediately follow upon Judgments made what to Love and Hate: But we see the contrary often happen, for the Passions as they submit to some Resolutions and Judgments, so others again they oppose themselves to, and refuse to comply with. Whence it is that compelled thereto by Truth and the Evidence of things, they do not affirm every judgement and Determination of Reason to be Passion, but that only which excites too violent and inordiate an Appetite; Acknowledging thereby that the Faculty we have in us of Judging is quiter another thing then that which is susceptible of the Passions, as is 
Ut integra sit sententia, post verbum {αβγδ} Cod. M S. Petav. Inserenda sunt {αβγδ}, quae, vulgo Librariorum culpâ interciderunt.  that also which moveth from that which is moved. Nay, even Chrysippus himself in many places defining Patience and ꝯtinence to be Habits of submitting to and pursuing the Choice and Direction of Right Reason, doth thereby make it apparent that by the force of truth he was driven to confess, that it is one thing in us which is Obedient and Submissive, but another and quiter different which being either not disobeyed, is quietly submitted to, or disobeyed and neglected meets with Opposition and Resistance.  
Now as for those who make all Sins and Faults to be equal, to examine whether in other Matters, they have not also departed from the truth is not at this time and in this place seasonable; since they seem not herein only but in most things else to advance unreasonable Paradoxes against common Sense and Experience. For according to them all our Passions and Affections are so many Faults, and whosoever Grieves, Fears or Desires commits Sin: But with their leave, nothing is more visible and apparent then the mighty Difference in those and all other Passions, according as we are more or less affencted with them. For will any Man say that the Fear of Dolon was no more then that of Ajax who being forced to give way before the Enemy, 
Sometimes retreated back, then faced about,  
And step by step retired, at once, and Fought?  Or compare the Grief of Plato for the Death of Socrates, to the Sorrow and Anguish of Mind which Alexander felt, when for having murdered Clytus, he attempted to have laid Violent Hands upon himself: For our Grief is commonly increased and augmented above Measure by sudden and unexpected Accidents, And that which surprises us on the sudden contrary to our hope and expectation is much more uneasy and grievous then that which is either foreseen or not very unlikely to happen: as must needs fall out in his Case who expecting nothing more then to see the Happiness, Advancement and Glory of a Friend or a Kinsman, should hear of his being put to the most exquisite Tortures, as Parmenio did of his Son Philotas. And who will ever say that the Anger of Magas against Philemon, can bear any proportion to the Rage of Nicocreon against Anaxarchus? The Occasion given was in both cases the same, each of them having severally been bitterly reproached and reviled by them: For whereas Nicocreon caused Anaxarchus to be broken all to pieces and brayed in a Mortar with Iron Pestles; Magas only commanded the Executioner to lay the Edge of the naked Sword upon the Neck of Philemon, and so dismissed him. And therefore Plato called Anger the Nerves of the Mind, because as it may swell and be made more intense by Sourness and ill nature, so may it be slacken'd and remitted by gentleness and good nature.  
But to elude these and such like Objections, they will not allow these Intense and vehement Efforts of the Passions to be according to judgement, or so to proceed from it as if that were therein faulty, but call them Cessations, Contractions and Extensions or Diffusions, which by the help of reason are capable of being increased or diminished. But that there are also differences of judgement is most plain and evident: For some there are who take Poverty to be no Evil at all; Others who look upon it as a great Evil; And others again who esteem it to be the greatest Evil and worst thing in the World, insomuch that rather then endure it, they would dash themselves in pieces against the Rocks, or cast themselves headlong into the Sea. And among those who reckon Death to be an Evil, some are of that Opinion in regard only that it deprives us of the Enjoyment of the good Things of the World; as Others are with respect to the eternal Torments and horrible Punishments under Ground in Hell. As for bodily Health, some Love it no otherwise then as it is agreeable to Nature and very convenient and useful; while others value it as the most sovereign Good, in comparison whereof they make no reckoning of Riches, or Children, no nor of, 
sceptres and Crowns which do Ambition move,  
And make Men equal to the Gods above.  Nor will they in fine allow even virtue itself to signify any thing or be of any use without good Health: so that hence it sufficiently appears that in the Judgments Men make of things, they may be mistaken and very faulty, with respect to both the extremes of too much and too little, but I shall pursue this Argument no further in this place.  
Thus much may however fairly be assumed from what has already been said on this head, that even themselves do allow a plain difference between the judgement and the Irrational Faculties by means whereof, they say, the Passions become greater and more violent, and so while they cavil and contend about Names and Words, they give up the very cause to those who maintain the Irrational Part of the Soul which is the Seat of the Passions to be several and distinct from that Faculty by which we Reason and make a judgement of things. And indeed Chrysippus in those Books which he wrote, of Anomology, after he has  told us that Anger is Blind, not discerning oftentimes those things which are plain and conspicuous, and as frequently casting a mist upon such things as were before clear and evident proceeds a little further in this manner; For, says he, the Passions being once raised not only reject and drive away Reason, But,( things by their means appearing otherwise then they would) do likewise violently push Men forward to Actions that are contrary to it; And then he makes use of the Testimony of Menander, saying, 
What have I done? Where has my Soul been strayed?  
Would she not stay to see her self obeied,  
But let me Act, what I abhorred but now?  And again the same Chrysippus a little after; every Rational Creature is by Nature so disposed as to use Reason in all things and to be Governed by it; but yet oftentimes it falls out that we Despise and Reject it being carried away by another more violent and over-ruling Motion. In these Words plainly enough acknowledging what uses in such a case to happen upon the account of that Difference and Contest which there is between the Passions and Reason.  
And upon any other ground, it would be ridiculous( as Plato says) to suppose a Man to be sometimes Better then Himself, and sometimes again worse; One while to be His Own Master, and another while His Own Slave. For how can it possibly be that a Man should be Better and Worse then Himself, And at once both his own Master and Slave, if every One were not in some sort naturally Double or Twofold, having in Himself at the same time a Better Part and a Worse? For so may He be reckoned to have a Power over Himself and to be better then Himself, who has His worse and more inferior Faculties in Obedience and Subjection to the Superior and more Excellent; Whereas He who suffers his Nobler Powers to fall under the Government and Direction of the Intemperate and Irrational Part of the Soul is less and worse then himself, and has wholly lost the Command over himself, and is in a State which is contrary to Nature, For by the Order of Nature Reason which is Divine ought to have the Sovereignty and Dominion over the Irrational and Brutal Faculties, which deriving their Original from the Body, and being concorporated as it were and thoroughly mixed therewith bear a very near Resemblance to it, are replenished with and do participate in Common of the Qualities, Properties and Passions thereof; As is plain from our more Vehement Motions and Efforts towards corporeal Objects, which do always increase in Force and vigour according to the several Changes and Alterations which happen in the Body. From whence it is that Young Men are in their Lusts and Appetites because of the Abundance and Warmth of their Blood, so Quick, Forward, Hot and Furious: Whereas in Old Men all their Natural Fire being almost extinguished, and the First Principles and source of the Affections and Passions seated about the Liver, much lessened and debilitated, Reason becomes more vigorous and predominant, while the Appetites Languish and Decay together with the Body. And after this manner it is that the Nature of Beasts is framed and disposed to divers Passions. For it is not from any Strength or Weakness of Thought, or from any Opinions Right or Wrong which they form to themselves, that some of them are so Bold and Venturous, and dare encounter any thing, and others of them as Fearful and Cowardly shrinking at every Danger; But from the Force and Power of the Blood, the Spirits and the Body does this Diversity of Passions in them arise; For that Part where the Passions are seated being derived from the Body as from it's Root, Retains all the Qualities and Propensions of that from whence it is extracted.  
Now that in Man there is a Sympathy and an agreeable and correspondent Motion of the Body and the Passions and Appetites, is proved by the Paleness and Blushings of the Face; by the Tremblings of the joints, by the Palpitation of the Heart; And on the contrary by the Difussion or Dilatation which we feel upon the Hope and Expectation of Pleasures. But when the Mind or Intellect doth Move of itself alone, without any Passion to Disorder and Ruffle it, then is the Body at Repose and rests Quiet, having nothing at all to do with those Acts and Operations of the Mind; As when it takes into Consideration a Proposition in Mathematics or some such Scientifical thing, it calls not for the Aid or Assistance of the Irrational or Brutal Faculties. From whence also it is very apparent that there are in us two Distinct Parts Differing in their Powers and Faculties from One Another. In Fine, throughout the whole World, all Things( as they themselves are forced to Confess, and is Evident in itself) are Governed and Directed some by a Certain Habit, some by Nature, Others by a Brutal or Irrational Soul, and some again by that which has Reason and Understanding. Of all which things Man does in some measure participate and is concerned in all the above mentioned Differences. For He is contained by Habit, and Nourished by Nature; He makes Use of Reason and Understanding; He wants not his Share of the Irrational Soul; He has also in him a Native ●o●rse and inbred Principles of the Passions, not as adventitious but necessary to him, which ought not therefore to be utterly rooted out, but only pruned and cultivated. It not being the Method and Custom of Reason in Imitation either of the Manner of the Thracians, or of what Lycurgus ordered to be done to the Vines, to destroy and tear up all the Passions and Affections indifferently, Good and Bad, Useful and Hurtful together, but rather like some 
{αβγδ}.  Kind and Careful Deity, who has a tender regard to the Growth and Improvement of Fruit-Trees and Plants, to cut away and lop off that which grows Wild and Rank, and to dress and manage the rest, that it may serve for Use and Profit. For as they who are afraid of being drunk, pour not their Wine upon the Ground but dilute it with Water, so neither do they who fear any violent Commotion of their Passions go about utterly to destroy and eradicate, but rather wisely to Temper and Moderate them. And as they who use to break Horses and Oxen do not go about to take away their Goings or to render them unfit for Labour and Service, but only strive to cure them of their Unluckiness and Flinging up their Heels, and to bring them to be patient of the Bit and Yoke so as to become Useful: After the same Manner Reason makes very good use of the Passions after they are well subdued and made Gentle, without either tearing in pieces or over much weakening that Part of the Soul which was made to be obedient to her. In Pindar we find it said, 
As 'tis the Horses Pride to win the Race,  
And to Plough up the Fruitful soil,  
Is the Laborious Ox's toil,  
So the fierce Dog we take the Foaming Bore to chase.  but much more useful then these in their several kinds, are the Whole Brood of Passions when they become Attendants to Reason, and being assistant and obedient to virtue do give Life and vigour to it.  
Thus Moderate Anger is of admirable Use to Courage or Fortitude; Hatred and Aversion for Ill Men promotes the Execution of Justice; And a Just Indignation against those who are prosperous beyond what they deserve, is then both convenient and even necessary, when, with Pride and Insolence their Minds are so swolen and elated, that they need to be repressed and taken down. Neither by any means can a Man, tho' He never so much desire it, be able to separate from Friendship, Indulgence and a natural Propension to Affection; from Humanity and good Nature, Tenderness and Commiseration; Nor from true Benevolence, a mutual participation of Joys and Grief. And if they run into an Error who would take away all Love, that they may destroy Mad and Wanton Passions, neither can those be in the Right who for the sake of Covetousness Condemn all other Appetites and Desires: Which is full as ridiculous as if One should always refuse to Run, because one time or other he may chance to catch a fall; Or to Shoot, because he may sometimes happen to miss the Mark; Or should forbear all Singing, because a Discord or a Jar is offensive to the Ear. For as in Sounds the music and Harmony thereof takes away neither the Sharpest nor the Deepest Notes; And in our Bodies, physic, procureth Health, not by the Destruction of Heat and could but by a due and proportionable Temperature and Mixture of them both together, so in the same Manner it happeneth in the Soul of Man when Reason becomes Victorious and Triumphant, by reducing the Faculties of the Mind which belong to the Passions and all their Motions to a due Moderation and Mediocrity. And tho' neither Joy nor Grief nor Fear simply in themselves, yet excessive and unmeasurable either Joy or Grief or Fear in the Soul may very properly be resembled to a great Swelling or inflammation in the Body. And therefore Homer where he says, 
No Dastard Fear the Valiant Man rebukes,  
And even in Death he keeps his Living Looks,  does not take away all Fear,( but that only which is extreme and Unmanly) that Bravery and Courage may not be thought to be Fool-hardiness; Nor Boldness and Resolution pass for Temerity and Rashness. And therefore in Pleasures and Delights he that can prescribe bounds to his Lusts and Desires, and in Punishing Offences can moderate his Rage and Hatred to the Offenders, shall in one case get the Reputation not of an Insensible but Temperate Person, and in the other be accounted a Man of Justice without Cruelty or Bitterness: Whereas if all the Passions, if that were possible, were clean rooted out, Reason in most Men would grow sensibly more Dull and Unactive then the Pilot of a Ship in a Calm.  
And to these things,( as it should seem) Prudent Law-givers having regard, have wisely taken care to Excite and Encourage in Common-wealths and Cities, the Ambition and Emulation of their People amongst one another; and with Trumpets, Drums and Flutes to whet their Anger and Courage against their Enemies. For not only in Poetry( as Plato very well observes) he that is Inspired by the Muses and as it were possessed by a Poetical Fury will make him who is otherwise a Master of his Trade, and an Exact critic in Poetry appear Ridiculous: But also in Fighting those who are Elevated and Inspired with a Noble Rage, and a Resolution and Courage above the common Pitch, become Invincible, and are not to be withstood. And this is that Warlike Fury which the Gods ●s Homer will have it infuse into Men of Honour, He spok●— And ●very Word new Strength inspired. and again, This mo●● then Hum●n Rage is from the Gods. As if to Reason the Gods had joined some or other of the Passions as an Incitement, or, if I may so say, a Vehicle to push and carry it forward.  
Nay we often see these very Men against whom I now dispute, Exciting and Encouraging Young Persons with Praises, and as often checking and rebuking them with severe Reprimands, whereupon in the One case there must follow Pleasure and Satisfaction as necessary as Grief and Trouble are produced in the other: Reprehension and Admonition certainly striking us with Repentance and shane, whereof this is comprehended under Fear, as the other is under Grief. And these are the Things they chiefly make use of for Correction and Amendment: Which seems to be the Reason why Diogenes to some who had magnified Plato, made this Reply, What can there be in him, said he, so much to be valued who having been so long a Philosopher, has never yet been known so much as to Excite the single Passion of Grief in the Mind of any One? And certainly the Mathematical Sciences cannot so properly be called,( to use the Words of Xenocrates,) the Handles of Phi●osophy, as these Passions are of Y●ung Men, namely, B●s●●fullness, Desire, Repentance, Pleasure, Pain, Ambition; whereon Right Reason and the Law discreetly laying their Salutary hands, do thereby effectually and speedily reduce a Young-man into the Right Way. Agreeable hereunto the Lacedaemonian Instructor of Youth was in the Right when he professed that he would bring it to pass that Youths under his care should take a Pleasure and Satisfaction in Good, and have an Ahhorence for Evil, then which there cannot be a Greater or Nobler End of the Liberal Education of Youth Proposed or Assigned.   

Plutarch's Morals. Vol. V. Plutarch's Parallels, or, a Comparison between the Greek and Roman  
Histories.  Translated out of the Greek by John Oswald, M. A. 
MOst People are apt to take the Histories of former Times for more Forgeries and Fables, because of many Passages in those Relations that seem to be very extravagant. But yet according to my Observation, we have had as strange Occurrences of a later Date, as any we have received from Antiquity; for proof whereof I have here matched several Stories of the Ancients with modern Instances, and cited my Authorities.  
Datis, an eminent Persian Commander, drew out three hundred thousand Men to Marathon, a Plain of Attica, where he encamped, and denounced War to the Inhabitants. The Athenians made no Reckoning at all of so barbarous a Rabble, but sent out nine thousand Men against him, under the Command of Cynaegyrus, Polyzelus, Callimachus, and Miltiades. Upon the joining of Battle, Polyzelus was struck blind at the Sight of a wonderful Apparition: Callimachus his Body was struck thorough with a great many launces, continuing in an upright Posture even when he was dead: Cynaegyrus had both his Hands cut off upon laying hold of a Persian Ship that was endeavouring to get away.  
King Asdrubal, having possessed himself of Sicily, proclaimed War against the Romans. Metellus, who was appointed by the Senate to command in chief, overcame him. L. Glauco, a Patrician, laid hold of the Vessel that Asdrubal was in, and lost both his Hands upon it. Aristides Milesius gives this Account in his first Book of the Affairs of Sicily, and Diodorus Siculus had it from him.  
Xerxes marched with an Army of five hundred thousand Men to Artemisium, and declared war against the Country. The Athenians in a very great Surprise, sent Agesilaus, the Brother of Themistocles, to discover the Motions of the Enemy, notwithstanding a Dream of his Father Neocles, that his Son had lost both his Hands. This Agesilaus put himself in a Persian Habit, and entred the Barbarians Camp; where, taking Mardonius( an Officer of the Kings Guards) for Xerxes himself, he killed him: Whereupon he was immediately seized, bound, and carried to Xerxes, who was just then about to sacrifice an Ox to the Sun: The Fire was kindled upon the Altar, and Agesilaus put his Right Hand into it, without so much as shrinking at the Pain. He was ordered upon this to be untied; and  told the King, that the Athenians were all of the same Resolution, and that if he pleased, he should see him burn his Left Hand too. This gave Xerxes an Apprehension of him, so that he caused him to be still kept in Custody. This I find in Agatharchides, the Samian, in the second Book of his Persian History.  
Porsena, a King of Tuscany, encamped himself beyond the Tiber, and made War upon the Romans, cutting off the Supplies, till they were brought to a great Want of Provisions. The Senate were at their Wits end what to do, till Mutius, a Noble-Man, got leave of the Consuls, to take four hundred of his own Quality to advice with upon the Matter. Mutius, upon this, put himself into the Habit of a private Man, and crossed the River; where finding one of the King's Officers giving Orders for the Distribution of Necessaries to the Souldiers, and taking him for the King himself, he slay him. He was taken immediately, and carried to the King, where he put his Right Hand into a Fire that was in the Room, and with a Smile in the middle of his Torments, Barbarians, says he, I can set myself at Liberty without asking you leave, and be it known to you, that I have left four hundred Men in the Camp as daring as myself, that have sworn your Death. This struck Porsena with such a Terror, that he made Peace with the Romans upon it. Aristides Milesius is my Author for this, in the Third Book of his History.  
There happened a Dispute betwixt the Argives and lacedæmonians about a Claim to the Possession of Thyreates. The Amphictiones gave their Opinion for a trial of it by battle, so many and so many of a Side, and the Possession to go to the Victor. The lacedæmonians made choice of Othryades for their Captain, and the Argives of Thersander. The battle was fought, and the only two survivors that appeared, were Agenor and Chromius, both Argives, who carried their Principals the News of the Victory. In this Interim, Othryades, who was not as yet quiter dead, made a shift to raise himself by the help of broken launces; gathered the Shields of the Dead together, and erected a trophy with this Inscription upon it in his own Blood, [ To Jupiter, the Guardian of trophies.] The controversy still depended, till the Amphictiones upon an ocular Examination of the Matter, gave it for the lacedæmonians. This is according to Chrysermus in his Third Book of the Peloponnesian History.  
In a War that the Romans had with the Samnites, they made Posthumius Albinus their General. He was surprised in a difficult Pass called Furcae Caudinae, where he was hemmed in, and lost Three Legions, he himself likewise falling upon the Place grievously wounded. In the Dead of the Night, finding himself near his End, he gathered together the Targets of his dead Enemies, and raised a trophy with them, which he inscribed with his Hand dipped in Blood,[ Erected by the Romans to Jupiter, Guardian of the trophies, for a Victory over the Samnites.] But Fabius Gurges, that was dispatched away with Troops under his Command, so soon as he came to the Place, and saw the trophy, took up an auspicious Omen upon it, fought the Enemy, and overcame them, took their King Prisoner, and sent him to Rome. This is in the Third Book of Aristides Milesius his Italian History.  
Upon the Persians falling into Greece with a Body of five hundred thousand Men, the Spartans sent out Leonidas with a Party of three hundred Souldiers to secure the Pass of the Thermopilae. As they were at Dinner, the Barbarians fell in upon them; upon which, Leonidas bade them eat hearty, for they were to sup in another World. Leonidas charged in the Head of his Men into the Body of the Barbarians, and after many Wounds received, got up to Xerxes himself, and took his Crown from his Head. He lost his Life in the Attempt, and Xerxes causing him to be cut up when he was dead, found his Heart all hairy. Aristides, in the First Book of his Persian History.  
In the punic War the Romans sent out three hundred Men under the Command of Fabius Maximus, where they were all lost, and he himself, after he had received a mortal Wound, assaulted Hannibal, tore his Diadem from his Head, and died in the Action, according to Aristides Milesius.  
There was a terrible Earth-quake, with a wonderful Eruption of Water, at Celaenae, a City of Phrygia, that swallowed up a great many Houses, People and all. Midas upon this, consults the Oracle, which gave him for answer, That if he would cast into that gulf the most precious thing that he had in the World, the Earth should close again: Whereupon he threw in a Mass of Gold and Silver, but never the better. This put it in the Head of Anchyrus, the Son of Midas, to consider, that the most precious thing in Nature, is the Life and Soul of a Man; so that he went presently and embraced his Father and his Wife Timothaea, and mounted his Horse, and leaped into the Abyss: The Earth closs'd upon it, and Midas raised a golden Altar in the Place, laid his Hand upon it, and dedicated it[ TO JUPITER IDAEUS.] This Altar becomes ston at that time of the Year when it was usual to have these Eruptions, and after that Season was over, it was turned to Gold again. My Author is calisthenes, in his second Book of Transformations.  
The River Tiber, in it's Course over the Forum, opened a huge Cavity in the Ground, so that a great many Houses were butted in it. This was looked upon as a judgement upon the Place, from Jupiter Tarsius; who, as the Oracle  told them, was not to be appeased without throwing into it what they held most valuable. So they threw a quantity of Gold and Silver into it. But Curtius, one of the bravest young Men they had, gave a better Guess at the mind of the Oracle, and reflecting upon it, that the Life of a Man was much more excellent than Treasure, took his Horse, and plunged himself into the Gulf, and so redeemed his Country. Aristides in the Fortieth Book of his Italian History.  
As several great Captains were making merry with Polynices, an Eagle passing by, made a stoop, and carried up into the Air the Lance of Amphiaraus, who was one of the Company, and then letting it fall down, it stuck in the Ground, and was turned into a Laurel. The next Day, when the Armies were in action, the Earth opened and swallowed up Amphiaraus with his Chariot, in that very place, where at present the City Herma stands, so called from that Chariot. This is in Trisimachus his Third Book of the Foundation of Cities.  
When the Romans made War upon Pyrrhus, the King of the Epirotes, the Oracle promised Aemilius Paulus the Victory, in case he should erect an Altar in that place where he should see an eminent Man with his Chariot swallowed up into the Ground. Some three days after, Valerius Conatus, a Man of a Divine Spirit, was commanded in a Dream to take the Pontifical Habit upon him. He did so, and lead his Men into the Battle, where, after a prodigious Slaughter of the Enemy, the Earth opened and swallowed him up. Aemilius built an Altar here, obtained a great Victory, and sent a hundred and sixty Castle-bearing Elephants to Rome. This Altar delivers Oracles about that Season of the Year in which Pyrrhus was overcome. Critolaus has this in his Third Book of his History of the Epyrotes.  
Pyraichnes, King of the Eubaeans, made War upon the Boeotians. Hercules, when he was yet a Youth, overcame this King, had him drawn to pieces with Horses, and threw away the Carcase unburied. The Place where this was done is called [ Pyraichnes his Horses.] It lies upon the River Heraclius, and there is heard a Neighing whensoever any Horse drinks of that River. This is in The third Book of Rivers.  
Tullus Hostilius, a King of the Romans, waged War against the Albans, whose Kings Name was Maetius Fu●entius, and he many times kept off from fighting. He had the ill Luck to be once worsted, upon which the Albans gave themselves up to Drinking and making good Cheer, till Tullus fell in upon them when they were in their Cups, and tore their King to pieces betwixt two Horses. Alexarchus, in the Fourth Book of his Italian History.  
Philip had a Design to make himself Master of Olynthus and Methone, and in trying to pass the River Sandanus, was shot with an Arrow by one Aster an Olynthian, with these Words[ It is Aster that sends Philip this mortal Shaft.] Philip, upon this, swam back again to his own People, and with the loss of an Eye saved his Life. calisthenes, in the Third of his Macedonicks.  
Porsena made War upon the Romans, and pitched his Camp on the further side of the Tiber, where he intercepted all Relief, till they were pinched with Famine. Horatius Cocles took possession of a Wooden Bridge, where he opposed himself to the Enemy that were pressing to come over; but finding himself overpowered with Numbers, he commanded his People to cut down the Bridge behind him, by which means he hindered them from coming over, but in the mean time receiving a Wound in his Eye, he threw himself into the River, and swam over to his own Party. So Theotimus in the Second Book of his Italian History.  
Eratosthenes, in Erigone, tells a Story of Icarius, that entertained Bacchus under his Roof; and it runs thus. Saturn having taken up his Lodging with an Husbandman who had a very beautiful Daughter, took her to his Bed, and had several Sons by her, as Janius, Hymnus, Faustus and Faelix. He taught his Host Icarius the Use of Wine, and the Way of Dressing his Vines, with a Charge that he should likewise instruct his Neighbors in the Mystery. His Acquaintance hereupon finding that this strange Drink had cast them into a deeper Sleep than ordinary, took a Fancy that they were poisoned, and stoned Icarius in Revenge, whereupon his grandchidren hanged themselves for Grief.  
Upon a Time, when the Plague was very hot in Rome, the Pythian Oracle being consulted, gave this Answer, That upon the appeasing the Wrath of Saturn, and the Genii of those that were unjustly killed, the Pestilence would cease. Lutatius Catulus, a Man of the first Quality, caused a Temple upon this Occasion to be erected near the Tarpeian Mount, which he dedicated to Saturn, placing an Altar in it, with four Faces; possibly with a respect to Saturn's four Children, or to the Four Seasons of the Year. He also instituted the Month of January; but Saturn translated them all to Heaven among the Stars, some of which are called Protrigeteres, as Forerunners of the Vintage; only Janus rises first, and has his Place at the Feet of the Virgin. Critolaus in his Fourth Book of Celestial Appearances.  
In the time of the Devastation of Greece by the Persians, Pausanias, a Lacedaemonian Commander, took a Bribe of five hundred Talents of Xerxes, to betray Sparta. The Treason being discovered, his Father Agesilaus prest him so hard, that he was fain to take Sanctuary in the Temple of Minerva, called Chalciaecos, where he caused the Doors to be brickt up, and his Son to be immured till he died of Hunger, and his Mother after this would not suffer the Body to be butted. Chrysermus, in the Second Book of his Histories.  
The Romans being in War with the Latins, made choice of P. Decius for their General. Now there was a certain Patrician, a young Man, and poor,( Cassius Brutus by Name) who proposed for a certain Reward to open the Gates to the Enemy; but being detected, he fled to the Temple of Minerva Auxiliaria: But his Father Cassius, an Ensign-bearer, shut him up there till he died of Famine, and his dead Body was not allowed Burial. Clitonymus, in his Italian History.  
Darius the Persian, had a Battle with Alexander near the River Granicus, where he lost seven eminent Governours, and upward of five hundred armed Chariots; and yet would have tried the Fortune of another Battle the Day following: But his Son Ariobarzanes, in Favour of Alexander, undertook to betray his Father into his Hands. The Father was so transported with Passion at the Indignity of the thing, that he cut off his Son's Head for't. Aretides Cnidius, in the Third of his Macedonian History.  
Brutus, that was created Consul by the unanimous Vote of the Citizens, forced away tarqvinius Superbus into Banishment, for his abominable Tyranny. He fled to the Tuscans, and by their Assistance made War upon the Romans. The Sons were treating to betray the Father; the Business was discovered, and they lost their Heads for it. Aristides Milesius, in his Italian History.  
Epaminondas, a Theban General, managed a War against the Spartans. He went from the Army to Thebes, to be present there at a public Election of Magistrates, but first enjoined his Son Stesimbrotus, that he should not fight the Enemy in his Absence, upon any Terms. The Spartans being informed that Epaminondas was not with the Army, reproached the young Man with want of Courage, and so far provoked him, that without any regard to his Fathers Command, he gave the Spartans Battle, and overcame them. His Father was so incensed against him for this Action, that though he crowned him for the Victory, he cut off his Head for his Disobedience. Ctesiphon, in his Third Book of the Boeotian History.  
In a War that the Romans had against the Samnites, they gave the Command to Manlius, surnamed Imperiosus. He had occasion to go to Rome, to be present there at the Choice of Consuls, and gave his Son in charge, not to engage the Enemy in the mean time. The Samnites understanding this, irritated the young Man with opprobrious Words, as if he declined fighting out of cowardice, and in the end provoked him to a Battle, upon which action he carried the Day; but his Father caused his Head to be struck off for breaking his Order. This is in Aristides Milesius.  
Hercules made Love to Iole, but she gave him the Repulse, and so he went and assaulted OEchalia. Iole threw her self head-long down from the Wall, but the Whiffling of the Wind under her Garments broken the Fall, and she had no Hurt. This Story is in Nicias Maleotes.  
Valerius Torquatus was the Romans General in the War they had with the Tuscans, who, upon the sight of Clusia, the Daughter of the Tuscan King, fell in Love with her, and when he found he could do no good on't, laid Siege to the City. Clusia upon this threw her self headlong from a Tower; but Venus was so careful of her, that by the playing of the Wind in the Folds of her Garments, she was wafted safe to the Ground. Torquatus however offered her Violence, and for so doing, he was banished by a public Decree into the Isle of Corsica. Theophilus, in the Third Book of his Italian History.  
While the Carthaginians were treating an Alliance with the Sicilians against the Romans, the Roman General, Metellus, was observed to omit sacrificing only to Vesta, who revenged her self upon him, by sending a across Wind to the Navy: But Caius Julius, a Sooth-sayer, being consulted in the Matter, gave answer, that this Obstacle would be removed upon the Generals sacrificing his Daughter; so that he was forced to produce his Daughter Metella for a Sacrifice. But Vesta had Compassion for her, and so sent her away to Lamusium, substituting a Heifer in her stead, and made a Priestess of her to the Dragon that is worshipped in that Place. So Pythocles, in the Third Book of his Italian History.  
Something like this happened to Iphigenia in Aulis, a City of Boeotia. See Meryllus, in the First Book of his Boeotick History.  
Brennus, a King of the Gauls, after the wasting of Asia, came to Ephesus, and there fell in Love with a Country Girl, who promised him, that for such a certain Reward in Bracelets, and other Curiosities of Value, he should have the Use of her Body, and that she would further undertake to deliver up Ephesus into his Hands. Brenneus ordered his Souldiers to throw all the Gold they had into the Lap of this avaricious Wretch, which they did, till she perished under the Weight of it. Clytophon, in the First Book of his Gallican History.  
Tarpeia, a Virgin that was well born, and had the keeping of the Capitol in the War betwixt the Sabines and the Romans, past a Promise unto Tatius, that she would open him a Passage into the Tarpeian Mount, provided that he would give her all the Jewels that the Sabines wore, for a Reward. The Sabines hearing this, took her alive, and butted her under the Weight of her Rings and precious Ornaments. Aristides Milesius, in his italic Story.  
After a long War betwixt two Cities, Tegea and Phenea, they came to an Agreement, to refer the Decision of the controversy, by combat, to three Twin-Brothers on each side, the Sons of Reximachus for Tegea, and for Phenea, the Sons of Damostratus. Upon the encounter two of the Sons of Reximachus were slain; but Critolaus, the third, had a Fetch beyond his two Brothers; for, under a Pretence of running away, he divided his Enemies that pursued him, and so taking them one by one, he killed them all. The Tegeans upon his Return, went all overjoyed to gratulate the Victor, only his Sister Demodice was not so well pleased; for she was betrothed, it seems, to Demoticus, one of the Brothers that was now slain: Which Critolaus took so ill, that he killed his Sister, and being afterwards indicted for Murder, his Mother acquitted him. Demaratus in his Second Book of the Arcadian History.  
In the heat of a War betwixt the Romans and Albans, they came to this Agreement, that the Cause should be determined by a trial at Arms, betwixt three and three Twins on each side, the curiatij for the Albans, and the horatij for the Romans. Upon the encounter, the curiatij killed two of the other; the third Survivor, under the Colour of flying, destroyed his Enemies one by one as they followed him. All his Friends came to joy him of his Victory, save only his Sister Horatia; for one of the curiatij, that her Brother killed, was her Sweet-heart. Horatius for this, killed his Sister. Aristides Milesius, in his Italian Commentaries.  
The Temple of Minerva in Ilium happened to be a-fire. One Ilus ran presently to save the Palladium,( an Image dropped from Heaven) but upon the taking of it up he was struck blind; it being a thing unlawful for any Man to look upon; but upon appeasing the Deity, he was afterwards restored to his Sight. Dercyllus, in his First Book of Foundations.  
Metellus, an eminent Man, as he was walking out of the City, was interrupted by Ravens that laid hold of him, and kept a flapping him with their Wings. This Omen surprised him, and back he went into the City again, where he found the Temple of Vesta all in a flamme. He went and took away the Palladium, and fell blind upon't. But some time after, the Goddess being pacified, gave him the use of his Eyes again. Aristides Milesius, in his Italian History.  
Upon a time, when the Thrasians were engaged in a War against the Athenians, the Oracle promised them Victory, if they would but save the Life of Codrus. Codrus upon this puts himself in a coarse Disguise, and away he goes into the Enemies Camp, with a Scyth in his Hand, where he killed one, and another killed him, so that the Athenians got the better on't. Socrates, in the Second Book of his Thrasian History.  
P. Desius, a Roman, at a time when they were in War with the Albans, had a Dream, that his Death would bring a great Advantage to the Romans: Upon which Consideration, he charged into the middle of his Enemies, where he killed many, and was slain himself: His Son Desius did the like in the gallic War, for the Conservation of the Roman State. Aristides Milesius is my Author.  
There was one Cyanippus a Syracusian, that Sacrificed to all the Gods but Bacchus, who took the Contempt so heinously, that he made him drunk, in which Fit, he got his Daughter Cyane into a Corner and lay with her; she in the mean time, slipped his Ring off his Finger, and gave it to her Nurse to keep, as a Circumstance that some time or other might come to be brought in evidence. There broke out a Pestilence, and the Pythian Oracle advised the sacrificing of an Incestuous Person to the Gods that are the Averters of such Calamities, as the only Remedy. Cyane, that understood the Meaning of the Oracle better than other People, took her Father by the Hair of the Head, first stabbing him, and then her self. Dositheus, in the Third Book of his Sicilian History.  
In the time of celebrating the Bacchanalia at Rome, Aruntius, that had never drunk any Wine since he was born, did not show that Reverence for the Power of the God as he ought to have done, so that Bacchus intoxicated him, and in that Freak, Aruntius ravished his Daughter Medullina. She came to know the Ravisher by his Ring, and an Exploit came into her Head, above what from her Age could have been expected. She made her Father drunk, and set a Garland upon his Head, carrying him to the Altar of Thunder, where with Tears she killed him for robbing her so treacherously of her Virginity. Aristides, in his Third Book of his Italian History.  
Erechtheus was  told in a War he had with Eumolpus, that he should have the better of his Enemy if he would but sacrifice his Daughter. He advised upon the Matter with his Wife Praxithea, and delivered up his Daughter after the manner of a common Sacrifice. Euripides, in his Erechtheus.  
Marius finding himself hard put to't in the Cimbrian War, had it revealed to him in a Dream, that he should overcome his Enemies, if he would but sacrifice his Daughter Calpurnia: He did it( preferring the common Safety before any private Bond of Nature) and he got the Victory. There are two Altars in Germany, where about that time of the Year, may be heard the Sound of Trumpets. Dorotheus, in the Fourth Book of his Italian History.  
There was one Cyanippus, a Thessalian, a great Lover of the Chase, and was often abroad a-hunting. This same Cyanippus was newly married, and his staying out so long, and so often in the Woods, gave his Wife a jealousy of an intrigue there with some other Woman; insomuch that she followed him one time, and got into a Thicket to watch him. The Rustling of the Boughs in the Place where she lay, brought the Dogs thither, in expectation of some Game, where they tore this tender-hearted Woman to pieces, as if she had been a brute Beast. Cyanippus was so surprised with so dismal, and unthought-of a Spectacle, that he killed himself. Parthenius the Poet.  
Sybaris is a City of Italy, were there was one Aemilius, a very handsome young Man, and a Lover of Hunting. His Wife( whom he had lately married) took up a Suspicion, that under colour of the Chase, he carried on an Assignation with some other Woman. She traced him to the Wood, and upon the Noise of the Boughs in her Passage, the Dogs ran presently to her, and worried her, and her Husband stabbed himself immediately upon this miserable Accident. Clitonymus, in the Second Book of his Sybariticks.  
One Smyrna( to whom Venus owed a shane, it seems) fell passionate●y in Love with her Father, and made the Nurse her Confident. She goes craftily to work with her Master, and tells him of a Maid there in the Neighbourhood, that loved him above all things in the World; but she could not in Modesty appear publicly to him: So the Father lay ignorantly with his own Daughter. But some time after, having a great mind to see his mistress, he called for a Light, and when he saw who it was, he pursued the Incestuous Wretch with his drawn Sword; but by the Providence of Venus, she was rescued from that Danger, and turned into a Myrtle-Tree. Theodorus, in his Transformations.  
One Valeria Tusculanaria( for whom Venus had no Kindness) fell down right in Love with her Father Valerius. She  told the Nurse the Secret, who ordered it so, that she brought the Father and the Daughter together, telling him, that a Maid there hard by was fallen desperately in Love with him, but that she durst not lie with him for fear of being known. The Father was got into his Cups, and as he was in Bed with his Daughter, called for a Candle. The Nurse waked Valeria, and away she goes, wandring up and down the Country with her great Belly. She had at last a Fall from a Precipice, but scaped without so much as any Miscarriage; for she was de●iver'd at her ●ime, and the Childs Name was Sylvanus( in Greek, Aegipanes.) Valerius, in the Anxiety of his Mind, threw himself from the same Precipice. Aristides Milesius, in the Third Book of his Italian History.  
Diomedes after the Destruction of Troy was cast by stress of weather upon the cost of Libya, where Lycus the Son of Mars was King, whose Custom it was to Sacrifice all Strangers to his Father; but his Daughter Callirrhoe falling in Love with Diomede betrayed her Father, and set Diomede at liberty; who presently went his way without any regard to his benefactress, and Calirrhoe hanged her self upon it. Juba Book 3d. of his Libyan History.  
Calpurnius Crassus a famous Man, bearing Arms with Begulus, was sent to the Massilians, to attack the Castle of Garetius being a very strong piece. He was taken in the enterprise, and designed for a Sacrifice to Saturn; but Bysatia the King's Daughter, out of a passionate kindness to Calpurnius, betrayed her Father. Calpurnius left her, and after his departure Bysatia cut her own Throat. Hegesianax's Third Book of the African History.  
When Priamus found that Troy was given for lost, he sent his Young Son Polydore into Thracia with a vast Sum of Gold, and put all into the hands of Polymestor his Kinsman. So soon as Troy was taken Polymestor killed the Child, and took the Gold to himself. Hecuba, being driven upon that quarter, overreached Polymestor by Craft under pretence of giving him a great Treasure, at which time she with the Assistance of her Fellow-Prisoners tore out his Eyes with her Nailes. Euripides the Tragedian.  
When Hannibal was ravaging the Country of Campania, L. Thymbris deposited his Son Rushius with a vast Sum of Money in the hands of Valerius Gestius his Kinsman, who upon Intelligence that the Enemy carried all before him, out of pure avarice, and without any regard to Humanity or Justice, killed the Child. It so fell out that Thymbris as he was walking about the Fields found the dead Body of his Son; Whereupon he called his Kinsman under pretence of a Treasure that he would show him: He took his opportunity, put out his Eyes, and hung him up upon a Gibbet. Aristides's 3d. Book of his italic History.  
Aeacus had two Sons by Psammathe, Phocus and Telamon, the former better beloved than the other. Telamon one day took out his Brother a-Hunting, and a Boar presenting himself, he threw his Lance in pretence at the Boar, but in truth at his Brother, whom he hated, and so killed him; for which his Father banished him. Dorotheus's 1st Book of Transformations.  
Cajus Maximus had two Sons, Resus the one by Ameria whose surname was Conon, and the other Similius. The Brothers were a-Hunting together, and Resus having killed the other, put it off when he came at home, that it was by chance and far from any design of doing it: But his Father, when he came in time to know the truth of it, banished the Son. Aristocles in the 3d Book of his Italian History.  
Mars is said to have begotten Meleager upon Althea. Euripides in his Meleager.  
Septimius Marcellus took to wife one Sylvia, and a great lover of Hunting he was. Mars put himself in the habit of a Shepherd, whor'd his new Wife and got her with Child: Which being done he  told her who he was, and gave her a Brand, telling her that the fate of the Child she went withal, was wrapped up in the fate of that Brand. Septimius slay Tuscinus, but Mammercus, in his sacrificing to the Gods for a fruitful Season, omitted only Ceres, who in revenge sent a wild Boar into his Grounds: Whereupon a knot of Huntsmen got together and killed him, and delivered the Head and the Skin to his Sweet-heart; But Simbrotes and Muthias the Maid's Uncles, took them away from her. Mammercus in a rage killed them upon it, and the Mother burnt the Brand. Meryllus in the 3d Book of his Italian History.  
When Telamon the Son of Aeacus and Endeis came to Euboea, he debauched Periboea the Daughter of Alcathous, and fled away by Night. The Father understanding this, and suspecting the villainy to be done by some of the Citizens, he delivered his Daughter to one of the Guards to be thrown into the Sea: But the soldier in compassion to the Woman, rather sold her, and she was carried away by Sea to the iceland of Salamina, where Telamon bought her, and had by her, Ajax. Aretades Cnidius in his 2d Book of Islands.  
L. Troscius had by Patris a Daughter called Florentia, who being corrupted by Calpurnius a Roman, was delivered by her Father to a soldier, with a charge to throw her into the Sea and drown her. The Man had compassion of her, and rather sold her: Calpurnius bought her, and had Contruscus by her.  
Aeolus a great King of Itruria had by Amphithea six Daughters and as many Sons. Macarius the youngest of them had the carnal knowledge of one of his Sisters, who was delivered of a Boy. Her Father sent her a Sword to kill the Child with, but that was so impious, that she choose rather to kill her self, and Macarius laid violent hands upon himself too. S●stratus's 2d Book of his Tuscan History.  
Papirius Volucer married Julia Pulchra, by whom he had six Sons and six Daughters. Papirius Romanus, the eldest of the six, got Canulia his Sister with Child. When the Father came to the knowledge of it, he sent his Daughter a Sword with which she killed her self, and Romanus did the same. Chrysippus's 1st Book of his Italian History.  
Aristonymus an Ephesian and the Son of Demostratus, was a Woman-hater, but had to do with an Ass, which brought him forth in the ordinary course of time, a most beautiful Daughter which he called Onoscelis. Aristotle's 2d Book of Paradoxes.  
Fulvius Stellus had an aversion to Women too, but entertained himself to his satisfaction with a mere, by which he had a very handsome Daughter, that he called Hippena, and this is the Goddess that has the care of the breed of Horses; According to Agesilaus in the 3d Book of his Italian History.  
The Sardians being engaged in War with the Smyrnaeans, besieged Smyrna, and sent them word by the Ambassadors, that they would never raise the Siege, till the Smyrnaeans should deliver up their Wives to their Embraces. The Men of Smyrna would have been hard put to it upon this pinching necessity, if it had not been for the advice of a pretty Wench that was a Maid-servant to Phylarchus. Her Council to her Master was this; that instead of sending free Women, they should rather dress up the Servants and sand them. The Smyrnaeans followed her advice, and when the Sardians had wearied themselves with their Mistresses, the Smyrnaeans easily overcame them: From whence there is a Festival day observed under the name of Eleutheria, which is celebrated among the Smyrnaeans with great Solemnity, the Servants being dressed up with all the Ornaments of the free Women. Dositheus in the 3d Book of his Lydian History.  
Atepomarus a King of the Gaules being in War with the Romans, made a public Declaration that he would never agree to a Peace, till the Romans should prostitute their Wives to them. The Romans advised with the Maid-servants, and sent them in the place of the free Women; the Barbarians plied the Work so hard, that they were even tired and fell asleep Retana( who was the Authoress of the Council) climbed a Fig three, and so got on the Wall, and finding how it was, gave notice of it to the Consuls. The Romans upon this made a sally and routed the Enemy; in memory whereof was instituted the Servants Holiday, and this was the rise of it. Aristides Milesius Book 1st. Hist. Ital.  
In the War betwixt the Athenians and Eumolpus, Provisions falling short, the Commissary Pyrander, upon a point of Prudence and good Husbandry, made some small abatement in the Souldiers Proportions: The Citizens suspected Treachery in the case, and stoned him to Death. Callisthenes's 3d Book Hist. Thrace.  
The Romans being in War with the Gauls, and Provisions for the Belly being very scarce, Cinna contracted the Souldiers allowance to a less proportion than they had formerly: The Citizens interpnted this abatement to be an ambitious Design he had upon the Government, and so stoned him for it. Aristides Book 3d. Hist. Ital.  
In the time of the Peloponnesian War, Pisistratus an Orchomenian, had a spite at the Nobility, and to make himself popular favoured the Common People. The Senate conspired against him and treacherously killed him, cutting him into small Gobbets that they carried away with them in their Bosoms, and paring off the Surface of the Ground that no signs of the Murder might appear. The Common People however upon a jealousy of the Matter, went tumultuously to the Senate; House but the Kings younger Son Tlesimachus that was dipped in the Conspiracy, diverted them with a sham-story, telling them, that he himself had seen his Father in a form more than human, walking as lively as was possible up the Pisaean Mountain: And so he imposed upon the People: Theophilus's 2d. Book Hist. Pelopon.  
The Senate of Rome being hard put to it for the maintaining of a War with so many of their Neighbours, thought it good Husbandry to shorten the People's allowance of Corn, which Romulus took very ill, and did not only restore it to the People, but several great Men were punished for it. Upon this he was murdered in the Senate by a Conspiracy of the Nobles, who cut him all to pieces, and carried them severally away in the lappets of their Garments. The Romans came to the Court in a hurry, and brought Fire with them to set all in a flamme; but Julius Proculus, one that was in the Plot,  told them, that he saw Romulus upon a Mountain of a size larger than any Man, and that he was translated into the Number of the Gods. The Romans believed him and quietly withdrew. Aristobulus in the 3d. Book Hist. Ital.  
Pelops the Son of Tantalus and Euryanassa, had two Children, Atreus and Thyestes, by his Wife Hippodomia; and by his Mistress Danuis he had Chrisippus, whom he loved better than his lawful Children: But Laius a Theban, in the heat of his Lust forcibly abused his Body, and being taken by Atreus and Thyestes, obtained his Pardon yet from Pelops, in regard that Love had provoked him to it. Hippodamia's Advice to Atreus and Thyestes was, that they should kill Chrysippus, as one that would interpose between them and the Crown. Upon the refusal to do so base a thing, she her self put her own hands to the work, and in the dead of the Night took Laius his Sword when he was asleep, wounded Chrysippus with it, and left the Weapon in his Body. This circumstance of Laius his Sword brought him into a Suspicion of the Murder, till he was cleared by Chrysippus himself, who being as yet but half dead, gave his testimony to the Truth. Pelops butted his Son, and then banished his Wife. Dositheus in his Pelopidae.  
Ebius Toliex had two Sons by his Wife Nuceria, and the third called Firmus by an enfranchised Woman who was very handsome, and better beloved by the Father then those that were legitimate: Nuceria that hated this By-blow, advised her Sons to dispatch Firmus; but upon the refusal she did it herself, and in the depth of the Night got the Sword of him that guarded the Body of Firmus, gave him a mortal Wound, and left the Weapon sticking in his Body. The Boy cleared his Keeper by a particular Account of the Matter of Fact; the Father butted his Son, and sent away his Wife into Banishment. Dositheus Book 3d Hist. Ital.  
Theseus the Son of Neptune had Hippolytus by the Amazon Hippolyta, and afterward married Phaedra the Daughter of Minos, who fell deep in Love with Hippolytus, and made use of the Nurse's Mediation to help forward the Incest. But Hyppolytus upon this left Athens and went away to Traezen, where he diverted himself with Hunting; Now this lascivious Woman finding her design disappointed, forged several scandalous Letters to the prejudice of the chased young Man, and ended her days with a Halter. Theseus gave Credit to the Slander, and Neptune having promised him a grant of any three-things he would ask, he made it his request that he would destroy Hippolytus. So Neptune sent a Bull to the cost where Hippolytus was driving his Chariot, which put his Horses into such a fright that they ran away with them, and overturning the Chariot killed the Master.  
Comminius supper a Laurentine, had a Son which he called Comminius by the Nymph Egeria, after which he married one Gidica who fell passionately in Love with her Son-in-Law, and receiving a repulse, she framed slanderous Letters against him which she left behind her, and so hanged her self. Comminius reflecting upon the Crime, and believing the Calumny, applied himself to Neptune, who with a terrible Bull frighted the Horses so, while the Youth was in the Chariot, that they overturned all and killed him with the fall. Dositheus Book 3d. Hist. Ital.  
In the time of a Great Plague in lacedaemon they were  told by the Oracle, that the Pestilence would cease upon the Sacrificing of a Noble Virgin according to Custom: It fell one time by lot to Helena, who was brought out and dressed up ready for the Sacrifice: An Eagle at that time Flying by took away the Sword, and carrying it into an herd of Cattle, laid it down upon an Heifer; Whereupon they spared the Virgin. Aristodemus in his Third Collection of Fables.  
There was a dreadful Plague in Phalerii, which the Oracle said would be removed upon the Sacrificing of a Virgin to Juno every Year. While this Superstition was in course, it fell to Valeria Luperca's lot to be the Sacrifice. An Eagle flew away with the drawn Sword, and laid it upon an Heifer feeding near the Temple. And there being a stick laid upon the fuel prepared for the fire with a little Mallet fixed to it, the Virgin assisted at the Sacrificing of the Heifer, and taking up the Mallet went about from House to House, and with a gentle knock called to those that were sick, bidding them be of good health. And this was the rise of the Ceremony which continues to this day. Aristides's Nineteenth Book Hist. Italian.  
Philonome the Daughter of Nyctimus and Arcadia, went in many times to the chase with Diana. Mars lay with her in the shape of a Shepherd, and fetched up her Belly: She was delivered in time of two Twins, which for fear of her Father she threw into the River Arimanthus, but by a strange fatality of Providence they were driven safe into a hollow Oak, which happening to be the Kennel of a Wolf, this Wolf threw her Whelps into the River and Suckled the Children. Tyliphus a Shepherd that had seen this with his own Eyes, took these Children and brought them up as his own, calling one of them Lycastus, and the other Parrasius which reigned successively in Arcadia. This is reported by Zopyrus Byzantius in the Third Book of his Histories.  
Amulius dealing very Tyrannically with his Brother Numitor, killed his Son Anytus, as they were a-Hunting, and made his Daughter Sylvia Julia a Priestess of Juno: Mars got her with Child, and when she had laid her Belly of two Twins, she confessed the Truth to the Tyrant, which put him in such an apprehension that he exposs'd them both on the side of the River Tiber, where they were carried by the stream to a place where a she Wolf had her Whelps. The Wolf cast away her own, and gave Suck to these Children. Faustus observing this took the Children to himself, and called them by the Names of Remus and Romulus which came afterwards to be the Founders of Rome. Aristides's History Italian.  
After the destruction of Troy, Agamemnon and Cassandra were killed, but Orestes that was brought up with Strophius revenged the death of his Father. Pyrander's Fourth Pelopon. History.  
Fabius Fabricianus of the House of Maximus, having taken Tuxium the chief City of the Samnites, sent to Rome the Image of Venus Victrix, which among them was held in great veneration. His Wife Fabia was debauched by Petronius Valentinus a handsome Young-man, and afterwards she treacherously murdered her Husband; but for her Son Fabricianus who was yet in his Infancy, she shifted him away to be privately brought up, and so provided for his security. When he was grown up, he destroyed both his Mother and the Adulterer, and was formally acquitted for it by a decree of the Senate. Dositheus's Third Book History Italian.  
Busiris the Son of Neptune and Anippe the Daughter of Nilus, was used to invite strangers in to him under a pretence of Hospitality, and then to murder them; but Divine vengeance met with him at last, for Hercules found out the villainy, and killed him with his Club. Agatho the Samian.  
Hercules as he was driving Geryon's Oxen through Italy, took up his Lodging with King Fanus there the Son of Mercury, whose Custom it was to Sacrifice Strangers to his Father: He set upon Hercules, and had his Brains beaten out for his pains. Dercyllus's Third Book History Italian.  
Phalaris of Agrigentum, a cruel Tyrant, was wont to put Strangers and Travellers to the most exquisite torments. Perillus a Brass-founder made a Bull of Brass, and presented it to the King for a New Invention of burning People alive in it. Phalaris for this once, was just, in making the first Proof of it upon Perillus himself; and the Invention was so artificial, that upon putting it in execution, the engine itself seemed to bellow. Second Book of Questions or Causes.  
In Aegesta a City of Sicily, there was a certain Tyrant called Aemilus Censorinus, who was so inhuman, that he proposed rewards to the Inventors of New Tortures. There was one Aruntius Paterculus that had framed a Brasen-Horse, and made a Present of it to the Tyrant to practise with it upon whom he pleased. It was the first piece of Justice that ever the Tyrant did, to make trial of the Torment upon the Author of it, that he might first feel himself the Torments he had provided for others▪ He was afterwards thrown down from the Tarpeian Mountain. It may be thought that unmerciful Rulers are from this Tyrant called Aemilii. Aristides's Fourth Book History Italian.  
Evenus the Son of Mars and Sterope had a Daughter Marpissa by his Wife Alcippa the Daughter of Oenomanus; and this Girl he had a mind to keep a Virgin: But Idas the Son of Aphareus ran away with her; Evenus pursued him, and finding he could not overtake him he threw himself into the River Lycorna, and became immortal. Dositheus's First Book History Italian.  
Anius a King of the Tuscans had a delicate handsome Daughter whose Name was Salia, and he took great care to keep her a Virgin; but Cathetus a Man of Quality, seeing her sporting her self fell passionately in Love with her, and carried her away to Rome. The Father made after her, and when he saw there was no catching of her, he threw himself into a River that from him took the name of Anio. Cathetus begot Latinus and Salius upon the Body of Salia the root of a Noble Race. Aristides Milesius, and Alexander Polyhistor Third Book History Italian.  
Hegesistratus an Ephesian committed a murder and fled to Delphus; consulting the Oracle what place to settle in; the Answer was, that when he should come to a place where he should see the Country-people Dancing, with Garlands of Olive-leaves, he should settle there. He travelled into a certain Country of Asia, where he found as the Oracle  told him, and there built a City which he called Elaeuns. Pythocles the Samian in the Third Book of his Georgicks.  
Telegonus the Son of Ulysses by Circe was sent to find out his Father, with order that where he should see the Country-People Dancing with Garlands he should there erect a City. He came into a certain place of Italy where he found the Country-men dancing with wreaths of Oaken Boughs about their Heads; so that there he built a City, and called it Prinistum; for an Oak in Greek is {αβγδ}.( The Romans corruptly call this City Praeneste.) Aristotle in the Third Book of his Italian History.  WE have it upon the Authority of a Credible Tradition, That this Chapter of Parallels was none of Plutarch's, and that in the Margin of an Ancient Greek M.S. there is the Mark set upon it of a Spurious Piece; which is the rather to be believed, for that there is not so much as one Line or Thought in it, that comes up to the Spirit of that Illustrious Author. But however since it has passed thus long in the World plausibly enough under the Authority and Protection of so great a Name, the whole Work would look as if it were imperfect without it. So that the preventing of that Inconvenience, is the only reason that has moved me to this Translation.  

Plutarch's Morals: Vol. V.  
Of the Names of Rivers and Mountains, and of such things as are to be found therein.  Translated out of the Greek by R. White M.A. 
THis piece was never printed with Plutarch's Works before; and some there are who question whether it were Plutarch that wrote this Treaise or no. But Philip Jacob Maussacus proves as well by the Style, as from other good Authorities that it was a legitimate Off-spring of the same Author. For which reason, since it was never printed in the English before, it was thought but a piece of Justice to add it to the rest of his Work.  

Hydaspes. Now the Indian Rowey, as most suppose.  
CHrisippe, by the impulse of Venus, whom she had offended, fell in Love with her Father Hydaspes, and not being able to kerb her preternatural desires, by the help of her Nurse, in the dead of the Night, got to his Bed, and received his Caresses: After which, the King proving unfortunate in his Affairs, he butted the Old Bawd, that had betrayed him, alive, and crucified his Daughter. Nevertheless such was the excess of his Grief for the loss of Chrysippe, that he threw himself into a River of India, which was afterwards called by his name Hydaspes.  
This is a River of India which falls with an extraordinary swift stream into the Saronitie Bay. Moreover in this River, there grows a ston, which is called Lycknis, which resembles the colour of oil, and is very hot to the touch. And when they are searching after it, which they do when the Moon increases, the Pipers play all the while: nor is it to be worn by any but the richer sort. Also nere that part of the River which is called pile, there grows an Herb which is very like a Mary-Gold; with the juice of which the People anoint their Skins to prevent Sun-burning, and to secure them against the scorching of the excessive Heat.  
The Natives, when ever they take their Virgins tardy, nail them to a Wooden across and fling them into this River, singing at the same time in their own Language a Hymn to Venus. Every year also, they bury a condemned Old Woman, nere the top of the Hill, call Therogonos; at what time an infinite Multitude of creeping Creatures come down from the top of the Hill, and devour the infects that hover about the butted carcase: as Chrysermus relates in his History of India. Tho A●chelaus gives a more exact account of these things in his Treatise of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Elephas, so called upon this Occasion: When Alexander the Macedonian advanced with his Army into India, and that the Natives were resolved to withstand him with all their force, the Elephant upon which Porus, King of that Region, was wont to ride, being of a sudden stung with a Gad-bee, ran up to the top of the Mountain of the Sun, and there uttered these words distinctly in human Speech. O King, my Lord, descending from the race of Gegasius, forbear to attempt any thing against Alexander, for he is descended from Jupiter; and having so said, he presently died. Which when Porus understood, afraid of Alexander he fell at his Feet, and sued for Peace. Which when he had obtained he called the Mountain Elephas; as Dercyllus testifies in his third Book of Mountains.   

Ismenus. Now Ismeno.  
Ismenus is a River of Boeotia that washes the Walls of Thebes, it was formerly called the Foot of Cadmus, upon this occasion. When Cadmus had slain the Dragon which kept the Fountain of Mars, he was afraid to taste of the Water, believing it was poisoned; which forced him to wander about in search of another Fountain, to alloy his Thirst. At length, by the help of Minerva, he came to the Corycaean Den, where his right Leg stuck deep in the Mire; and from that hole it was that after he had pulled his Leg out again, sprung a fair River, which the Hero after the solemnity of his Sacrifices performed, called by the name of Cadmus's Foot.  
Sometime after, Ismenus the Son of Amphion and Niobe being wounded by Apollo, and in great pain, th● w himself into the said River, which was then from his name called Ismenus, as Sostratus relates in his Second Book, of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Cithaeron, formerly called Asterion for this reason. Boeotus the Son of Neptune being desirous, of two Noble Ladies, to mary her that should be most beneficial to him, while he tarried for both in the Night time upon the top of a certain nameless Mountain, of a sudden a Star fell from Heaven upon the Shoulders of Eurythemistes, and imm●diately vanished. Upon which Boeotus understanding the meaning of the Prodigy, married the Virgin, and called the Mountain Asterion from the Accident that befell him. Afterwards it was called 
Now Citherone.  Cithaeron upon this occasion. Tisiphone one of the Erinny's or Furies of Hell falling in love with a most beautiful Youth whose name was Cithaeron, and not being able to kerb the Impatience of her Desires, declared her Affection to him in a Letter, to which he would not return any Answer. Whereupon the Fury missing her Design, pulled one of the Serpents from her Locks, and flung it upon the Young Lad, as he was keeping his Sheep on the Top of the Mountain Asterion; where the Serpent twining about his Neck, choked him to Death. And thereupon by the Will of the Gods, the Mountain was called Cithaeron, as lo of Byzantium writes in his History of Boeotia.  
But Hermesianax of Cyprus, tells the Story quiter otherwise. For he says, that Helicon and Cithaeron were two Brothers, quiter different in their Dispositions. For Helicon was affable and mildred, and obedient to his Parents and Elders: but Cithaeron being covetous, and greedily gaping after the Estate, first killed his Father, and then treacherously threw his Brother down from a steep Precipice, but in striving together, fell himself along with him. Whence, by the Providence of the Gods, the Names of both the Mountains were changed. Cithaeron, by reason of his Impiety occasioned the Fable of the Furies. Helicon, for the Young Man's Love to his Parents, became the Habitation of the Muses.   

Hebrus. Now Mariza.  
Hebrus is a River of Thrace deriving it's name from the many gulfs and white-pools in the Water.  
Cassander, King of that Region, having married Crotonice, had by her a Son whom he namd Hebrus: But then being divorced from his first Wife, he married Damasippe, the Daughter of Atrax, and brought her home over his Sons Head; with whom the Mother in Law falling in Love, invited him by Let●ers to her Embraces. But he avoiding his Mother as a Fury, gave himself over to the sport of Hunting. On the other side, the Impious Woman mising her purpose, belied the chast Youth, and accused him of Attempting to ravish her. Upon this Cassander, raging with jealousy, flew to the Wood in a wild fury, and with his Sword drawn pursued his Son, as one that treacherously sought to defile his Fathers Bed. Upon which, the Son finding he could no way escape his Fathers wrath, threw himself into the River Rombus, which was afterwards called Hebrus, from the Name of the Young Man; as Timotheus testifies in his' leventh Book of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Pangaeus so called upon this occasion. Pangaeus the Son of Mars and Critobule, by a mistake lay with his own Daughter; which perplexed him to that degree, that he fled to the Carmanian Mountain; where overwhelmed with a sorrow which he could not Master, he drew his Sword, and slay himself. Whence by the Providence of the Gods the Place was called 
Now Mal●ca and Castagna.  Pangaeus.  
In the River before mentioned grows an Herb, not much unlike to Basil; the tops of which the Th●acians cropping off, burn upon a gentle fire; and after hard drinking hold their heads over the smoke, and snuff it up into their Nostrils, and l●t it go down their Throats, till at last they fall into a profound sleep.  
Also upon the Mountain Pangaeus grows an Herb, which is called the Harp, upon this Occasion. The Women that tore Orpheus in pei●es, cast his Limbs into the River Hebrus; and his Head being changed, the whole body was turned into the shape of a Dragon. But as for his Harp, such was the Will of Apollo, it remained in the same form: and from the streaming Blood, grew up the Herb which was called the Harp; which during the solemnity of the Sacrifices to Bacchus sends forth a Sound like that of a Harp when played upon. At what time the Natives covered with the Skins of young Hinds, and waving their Thyrsus's in their hands, sing a Hymn of which these are part of the Words.  
And then shalt thou be wise  
When folly does thy Brain surprise;  
As Clitonymus reports, in his third Book of Tragical Relations.   

Ganges.  
Ganges is a River in India so called for this reason. A certain Calaurian Nymph, had by Indus a Son called Ganges, conspicuous for his Beauty. Who growing up to Manhood, and desperately overcome with Wine, in the heat of his Intoxication lay with his Mother Diopithusa. The next day being informed by the Nurse of what he had done; such was the excess of his Sorrow, that he threw himself into a River called Chliarus, afterwards called Ganges from his own Name.  
In this River grows an Herb resembling Bugloss; which the Natives bruise, and keep the Juice very charily. With this Juice in the dead of the Night they go and besprinkle the Tigers Dens; The virtue of which is such that the Tigers not being able to stir forth by reason of the strong Scent of the Juice, are starved to Death, as calisthenes reports in his Third Book of Hunting.  
Upon the Banks of this River lies the Mountain called the Anatole, for this reason. The Sun, beholding the Nymph Anaxibia innocently spending her time in the fields fell passionately in Love with her, and not able to kerb his loose Amours, pursued her with a purpose to ravish her. She therefore finding no other way to escape him fled to the Temple of Orthian Diana, which was seated upon the Mountain called Coryphe, and there immediately vanished away. Upon which the Deity, that followed her close at the Heels, not knowing what was become of his beloved, overwhelmed with Grief, rose in that very place. And from this Accident it was that the Natives called the top of that Mountain Anatole, or the rising of the Sun. As Caemeron reports in his Tenth Book, Of the Affairs of India.   

Phasis. Now Fasso, and Phazzeth.  
Phasis is a River of Scythia, running by a City of the same Name. It was formerly called Arcturus, deriving its Name from the situation of the could Regions through which it runs. But the name of it was altered upon this occasion.  
Phasis the Son of Sol, and Ocyrrhoe Daughter of Oceanus, slay his Mother whom he took in the very act of Adultery. For which being tormented by the Furies appearing to him, he threw himself into the River Arcturus, which was afterwards called by his own name Phasis.  
In this River grows a Reed which is called Leucophyllus, or the Reed with the White Leaf. This Reed is found at the dawning of the Morning Light, at what time the Sacrifices are offered to Heca●e, and this too, by the divine Inspiration of Pan, at the beginning of the Spring: when they who are troubled with jealous Heads gather this Reed, and strew it in their Wives Chambers to keep them chased: And the Nature of this Reed is such, that if any wild extravagant Person happens to come rashly in drink into the room where it lies, he presently becomes deprived of his rational thoughts, and immediately confesses whatever he has wickedly done or intended to do. At what time they that are present to hear him, lay hold of him, sow him up in a Sack, and throw him into a hole called the Little-mouth of the Wicked, which is round like the mouth of a Well; which after thirty days empties the Body into the Lake Moeotis that is full of Worms; where of a sudden the Body is seized and torn to pieces by several Vultures unseen before, nor is it known from whence they come; as Ktesippus relates in his second Book of Scythian Relations.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Caucasus, which was before called Boreas's Bed, upon this occasion. Boreas in the heat of his amorous Passion ravished away by force Chloris the Daughter of Arcturus, and carried her to a certain Hill which was called Niphantes, and upon her begot a Son whom he called Harpax, who succeeded Heniochus in his Kingdom. For which reason the Mountain was first called Boreas's Bed; but afterwards Caucasus upon this occasion. After the Fight of the giants, Saturn to avoid the Menaces of Jupiter, fled to the top of Boreas's Bed; and there being turned into a Crocodile slay Caucasus one of the Sheperds-inhabiting that place, and observing the situation and disposition of his Entrails, foresaw that his Enemies were not far off. Presently Jupiter appearing and binding his Father with a woollen List, threw him down to Hell. Then changing the name of the Mountain in Honour of the Shepherd Caucasus, he chained Prometheus to it, and caused him to be tormented by an Eagle that fed upon his Entrails, because he was the first that found out the inspection of Bowels▪ which Jupiter deemed a great Cruelty. As Cleanthes relates in his Third Book, Of the Wars of the God●.  
Upon this Mountain grows a● Herb, which is called Prometheon, which Medca gathering and bruising made use of to protect Jason against her Fathers obstinacy.   

Arar. Now La Saone.  
Arar, is a River in that part of France, formerly called Gallia Celtica, deriving the Name from its being mixed with the River Rhodanus. For it falls into the Rhosne within the Country of the 
Where now stands the Cities of Chambery, St. Jean Mousters, Geneva, Grenoble and Vienne.  Allobroges. It was formerly called Brigulus, but afterwards changed its Name upon this occasion. Arar, as he was a Hunting, entering into a Wood, and there finding his Brother Celtiber torn in pieces by the Wild Beasts, mortally wounded himself for grief, and fell into the River Morgulus; which from that accident was afterwards called by his own name Arar?  
In this River there breeds a certain large Fish, which by the Natives is called Clupaea. This Fish during the increase of the Moon is white; but all the while the Moon is in the wain it is altogether black: and when it grows over bulky, is as it were stabbed by its own Fins. In the head of it is found a ston like a Corn of Salt, which being applied to the left Parts of the Body when the Moon is in the wain, cures Quartan Agues, as calisthenes the Sybarite tells us in the thirteenth Book of Gallic Relations; from whom Timagenes the Syrian borrowed his Argument.  
Nere to this River stands a Mountain called Lugdunus which changed its name upon this occasion. When Momorus and Atepomorus were dethroned by Seseroneus, in pursuance of the Oracles Command, they designed to build a City upon the top of this Hill. But when they had laid the Foundations, great numbers of Crows with their Wings expanded covered all the neighbouring Trees. Upon which Momorus being a Person well skilled in Augury, called the City 
Now lions.  Lugdunum. For Lugon in their Language signified a Crow, and 
Whence probably our English word Down.  Dunum any spacious Hill, or wide place; as Clitophon reports in his thirteenth Book of the Building of Cities.   

Pactolus. Now Sarabat.  
Pactolus is a River of Lydia that washes the Walls of Sardis, formerly called Chrysorrhoas. For Chrysorrheas, the Son of Apollo and Apathippe, being a Mechanic Artist, and one that only lived from hand to mouth upon his Trade, one time in the middle of the Night made bold to break open the Treasury of Croesus, and conveying thence a good quantity of Gold made a distribution of it to his Family: but being pursued by the King's Officers, when he saw he must be taken, he threw himself into the River which was afterward from his Name called Chrysorrhoas; afterwards changed into that of Pactolus upon this occasion.  
Pactolus the Son of Jolis and Leucothea during the performance of the Mystenes sacred to Venus, ravished Demodice his own Sister, not knowing who she was. For which being overwhelmed with Grief, he threw himself into the River Chrysorrhoas, which from that time forward was called Pactorus from his own Name.  
In this River is found a most pure Gold Sand, which the force of the stream carries into the happy bosom of the River Hermus. Also in this River is to be found a ston which is called Arourophylax( or the Preserver of the Fields) resembling the colour of Silver, very hard to be found, in regard of its being mixed with the Gold Sand. The virtue of which is such, that the more wealthy Lydians buy it, and lay it at the doors of their Treasuries, by which means they preserve their Treasure, whatever it be, safe from the seizure of pilfering Hands. For upon the approach of thieves or Robbers the ston sends forth a sound like that of a Trumpet. Upon which the thieves surprised and believing themselves apprehended by Officers, throw themselves headlong and break their Necks: insomuch that the Place where the thieves thus frighted come by their violent deaths is called Pactolus's Prison.  
In this River also there grows an Herb that bears a Purple Flower, and is called Chrysopole; by which the Inhabitants of th● Neighbouring Cities try their purest Gold. For just before they put their Gold into the Melting-Pot, they touch it with the Herb; at what time if it be pure and unmixed, the Leaves of the Herb will be tinctured with the Gold, and preserve the substance of the Matter; but if it be adulterated, they will not admit the discolouring moisture, as Chrysermus relates in his Third Book of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain 
Now Tomali●ze.  Tmolus full of all manner of Wild Beasts, formerly called Carmanorion, from Carmanor the Son of Bacchus and Alexithoe, who was killed, as he was a Hunting by a Wild-Boar; but afterward Tmolus upon this occasion.  
Tmolus, the Son of Mars, and The●g●ne, King of Lydia, while he was a Hunting upon Carmanorion, chanced to see the fair Virgin Arrhipe, that attended upon Diana, and fell passionately in love with her. And such was the heat of his love, that not being able to gain her by fair means, he resolved to vitiate her by force; who seeing she could by no means escape h●s Fury otherwise, fled to the Temple of Diana: Where the Tyrant contemning all religion, ravished her. An Infamy which the Nymph not being able to survive, immediately hanged her se●●. But Diana would not pass by so great a Crime, and therefore to be revenged upon the King for his Irreligious Insolency, she set a mad Bull upon him, by which the King being tossed up in the Air, and falling down upon Stakes and Stones, ended his days in torment. But Theoctumenus his Son, so soon as he had butted his Father, altered the name of the Mountain and called it Tmolus after his Fathers Name.  
Upon this Mountain grows a ston, not unlike a Pumice-stone, which is very rare to be found. This ston changes it's colour four times a day; and is only to be seen by Virgins that are not arrived at the Years of Understanding. But if Marriageable Virgins happen to see, they can never receive any Injury from those that attempt their chastity, as Clitophon reports.   

Lycormas. Now Phidari.  
Lycormas is a River of Etolia, formerly called Evenus for this Reason. Idas, the Son of Aphareus, after he had ravished away by violence Marpissa, with whom he was passionately in love, carried her away to Pleuron( a City of Etolia). This rape of his Daughter Euenus could by no means endure, and therefore pursued after the treacherous ravisher till he came to the River Lycormas. But then despairing to overtake the fugitive, he threw himself for madness into the River, which from his own name was called Euenus.  
In this River grows an Herb which is called Sarissa, because it resembles a Spear; of excellent use for those that are troubled with dim sight.  
Nere to this River lies Myenus, from Myenus, the Son of Telestor, and Alphoesibea; who being beloved by his Mother in Law, and unwilling to defile his Fathers Bed, retired himself to the Mountain Alphius. But Telestor being made jealous of his Wife, pursued his Son into the Wilderness, and followed him so close that Myenus not being able to escape, flung himself headlong from the Top of the Mountain, which for that reason was afterwards called Myenus.  
Upon this Mountain grows a Flower called the White-Violet, which if you do but name the Word Stepdame, presently dyes away; as Dercyllus reports in his Third Book of Mountains.   

Meander. Now Madre.  
Meander is a River of Asia, formerly called Anabainon,( or the Returner back): for of all Rivers in the World( except Neda) it is the only stream, which taking it's rise from it's own Fountain, seems to run back to it's own Head.  
It is called Meander from Meander the Son of Cercaphus and Anaxibia, who waging War with the Pessinuntians, made a vow to the Mother of the Gods, that if he obtained the Victory, he would Sacrifice the first that came to congratulate him for his good success. Now it happened that the first that met him were his Son Archelaus, his Mother, and his Sister. All which though so nearly related to him, he offered to the satisfaction of his vow. But then no less grieved for what he had done, he cast himself into the River Anabainon, which from the accident was afterwards called by his own name Meander; as Timolaus tells us in his Tenth Book of Phrygian Relations. Agathocles the Samian also makes mention of this Story, in his Common-wealth of Pessinuntum. But Demonstratus of Apamia relates the Story thus.  
Meander being a second time elected General against the Pessinuntines, and obtaining the Victory quiter contrary to his Expectation, gave to his Souldiers the Offerings due to the Mother of the Gods. At which the Goddess being offended, she deprived him of his reason to that degree, that in the hight of h●s madness he slay both his Wife and his Son. But coming somewhat to himself, and repenting of what he had done, he threw himself into the River, which by his Name was called Meander.  
In this River there is a certain ston, which by Antiphrasis is called Sophron, or the Sober-stone; which if you drop into the Bosom of any Man, it presently makes him mad to that degree as to murder his nearest Relations, but having once atoned the Mother of the Gods, he is presently restored to his Wits, as Damaratus testifies in his Third Book of Rivers: And Archelaus makes mention of the same in his First Book of Stones.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain 
Now Cusinas.  Sipylus, so called from Sipylus the Son of Agenor and Dioxippe. For he having killed his Mother by mistake and being haunted with the Furies, retired to the Ceraunian Mountain, and there hanged himself for grief. After which by the Providence of the Gods the Mountain was called Sipylus.  
In this Mountain grows a ston that resembles a Cylinder, which when Children that are Obedient to their Parents find they lay it up in the Temple of the Mother of the Gods. Nor do they ever after transgress out of Impiety; but reverence their Parents and are Obedient to their Superior Relations; as Agatharchides the Samian relates in his Fourth Book of Stones. And Damaratus in his Fourth Book of Phrygia.   

Marsyas.  
Marsyas is a River of Phrygia, flowing by the City 
Afterwards called Apamia, now Apamiz, poor and uninhabited.  Ketene, and formerly called the Fountain of Midas for this Reason. Midas, King of Phrygia, traveling in the remoter Parts of the Country, and wanting Water, stamped upon the Ground, and presently appeared a Golden Fountain: but the Water proving Gold, and both he and his Souldiers being ready to perish for thirst, he invoked the compassion of Bacchus, who listening to his Prayers, supplied him with Water. The Phrygians having by this means quenched their thirst, Midas named the River, that issued from the Spring, the Fountain of Midas. Afterwards it was called Marsyas upon this occasion.  
Marsyas being overcome and flayed by Apollo certain Satyrs are said to have sprung from the streams of his Blood; as also a River bearing the name of Marsyas, as Alexander Cornelius recites in his Third Book of Phrygian Relations. But Eumeridas the Phrygian tells the Story after this manner.  
It happened that the Wine bag which was made of Marsyas's Skin being corroded by time, and carried away negligently by the wind, fell at last from the Land into Midas's Well; and driving along with the stream, was taken up by a Fisher-man. At what time Pisistratus the Lacedemonian being commanded by the Oracle to build near the Place where the relics of the satire were found, reflected upon the accident, and in obedience to the Oracle having built a fair City, called it Noricum, which in the Phrygian Language signifies a Wine-bag.  
In this River grows an Herb called, the Pipe or Flute; which being moved with the wind yields a melodious sound; as Dercyllus reports in his first Book of Satyrics.  
Nere to this River also lies the Mountain Berecynthius, deriving it's name from Berecynthus, the first priest to the Mother of the Gods. Upon this Mountain is found a ston which is called Machera, very much resembling Iron; which if any one happens to light upon, while the Solemnities of the Mother of the Gods are performing, he presently runs mad; as Agatharchides reports in his Phrygian Relations.   

Strymon, Now Stromona, Radini, and Marmara.  
Strymon is a River of Thrace, that flows along by the City Aedonis, formerly called Palestinus from Palestinus the Son of Neptune. For he being at War with his Neighbors, and seized with a violent sickness, sent his Son Alyacmon, to be General of his Army, who rashly giving Battle to his Enemies, was slain in the Fight. The tidings of which misfortune being brought to Palestinus, he privately withdrew himself from his Guards, and flung himself into the River Conozus, which from that accident was afterwards called Palestinus. But as for Strymon, he was the Son of Mars and Helice, who hearing that his Son, 
He was slain at Troy by Diome.  Rhesus was slain, flung himself into the River Palestinus, which was after that called Strymon, by his own Name.  
In this River grows a ston which is called Pausilypus, or the grief easing ston. This ston, if any one find who is oppressed with grief, he shall presently be eased of his Sorrow; as Jason of Byzantium relates in his Tragics.  
Nere to this River lie the Mountains 
Now by the Greeks, Basiliss●: by the Italians, Monte Argentaro.  Rhodope and 
Now by the Turks, Balkan; by the Salavenians, Cumoniza; by the Italians, Catena deal mondo.  Haemus, who being Brother and Sister, and both falling in love with each other, the one was so presumptuous as to call his Sister his Juno, the other to call her Brother her Jupiter; which so offended the Deities, that they changed them into Mountains, bearing their own Names.  
In these two Mountains grow certain Stones, which are called Philadelphi, or the Loving Brethren. These Stones are of a Crow Colour, and resembling human Shape, and if they chance to be named when they are separated one from another, they presently and separately, as they lie dissolve and waste away; as Thrasyllus the Mendesian testifies in his third Book of Stones; but more accurately in his Book of Tragies.   

Sagaris. Now Zagari and Sangari.  
Sagaris is a River of Phrygia, formerly called Xerabates, because in the Summer time it was generally dry. But it was called Sagaris for this Reason. Sagaris, the Son of Myndon and Alexiroe, contemning and slighting the Mysteries of the Mother of the Gods, frequently affronted and derided her Priests and Galli. At which the Goddess heinously offended▪ struck him with Madness, to that degree, that in one of his raging Fits, he flung himself into the River Xerabates, which from that time forward, was called Sagaris.  
In this River grows a ston, which is called Autogryphus, that is naturally engraved; for it is found, with the Mother of the Gods by Nature engraved upon it. This ston, which is rarely to be found, if any of the Galli, or gelded Priests happen to light upon, he makes no wonder at it, but undauntedly brooks the Sight of a preternatural Action; as Aretazes reports in his Phrygian Relations.  
Nere to this River, lies the Mountain Baleneus, which in the Phrygian Language signifies Royal: so called from Baleneus, the Son of Ganymed and Medesigiste, who perceiving his Father almost wasted with a Consumption, instituted the Ballenean Festival, ●bserv'd among the Natives to this Day.  
In this River is to be found a ston called Aster, which from the latter end of Autumn, shines at Midnight like Fire. It is called in the Language of the Natives, Ballen, which signifies a King, as Hermesianax the Cyprian affirms in his second Book of his Phrygian Relations.   

Scamander. Now Scamandro.  
Scamander is a River of Troas, which was formerly called Xanthus, but changed its Name upon this Occasion. Scamander the Son of Coribas and Demodice, having suddenly exposed himself while the Mysteries of Rhea were solemnizing, immediately ran mad, and being hurried away by his own Fury to the River Xanthus, flung himself into the Stream, which from thence was called Scamander.  
In this River grows an Herb, like a fetch, that bears a Cod with Berries rattling in it when they are ripe, whence it derived the Name of Sistron, or the Rattle: This Herb, whoever has in his Possession, fears not the Apparitions either of Gods or D●vils; as Demostratus writes in his Second Book of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Ida, formerly Gargarus; on the Top of which stand the Altars of Jupiter, and the Mother of the Gods. But it was called Ida upon this occasion. Aegysthus, who descended from Disphorus, falling passionately in Love with the Nymph Ida, obtained her good-will, and begot the Idaean Dactyly, or Priests of the Mother of the Gods. After which, Ida running mad in the Temple of Rhea, Egystius, in remembrance of the Love which he bare her, called the Mountain by her Name.  
In this Mountain grows a ston called Cryphius, as being never to be found, but when the Mysteries of the Gods are solemnizing; as Heraclitus the Sicyonian writes in his Second Book of Stones.   

Tanais. Now the River Don.  
Tanais is a River of Scythia, formerly called the Amazonian River, because the Amazons bathed themselves therein; but altered its Name upon this Occasion. Tanais, the Son of Berossus and Lysippe, one of the Amazons, became a vehement Hater of the Female Sex, and looking upon Marriage as ignominious and dishonourable, applied himself wholly to marshal Affairs. Which so offended Venus, that she caused him to fall passionately in Love with his own Mother. True it is, at first he withstood the Force of his Passion, but finding he could not vanquish the fatal Necessity of yielding to Diving Impulse, and yet desirous to preserve his Respect and Piety toward his M●ther, he flung himself into the Amazonian River, which was afterwar● called Tanis, from the Name of the young Man.  
In this River grows a Plant which is called Halinda, resembling a Colewort. Which the Inhabitants bruising, and anointing their Bodies with the Juice of it, find themselves in a Condition 〈◇〉 able to● d●●● the Extremity of the could; and for that reason, in ●heir own Language, they call it Beross●s's oil.  
In this River grows a ston not un i●e to Crystal, resembling the Shape of a Man, with a ●rown upon his Head. This ston, whoever finds when the King dyes, and has it ready against the time that the People meet upon the Banks of the River to choose a new sovereign, is presently elected King, and receives the sceptre of the deceased Prince: As Ctesiphon relates in his Third Book of Plants; and Aristobulus gives us the same Account in his First Book of Stones.  
Nere to this River also lies a Mountain, in the Language of the Natives, called Brixaba, which signifies the 
Now Tanar, or Tamar, a high Promontory in the Tauric Chersonese, or Chrim tartary.  Forehead of a Ram. And it was so called upon this Occasion. Phryxus having lost his Sister hell nere the Euxine Sea, and as Nature in Justice required, being extremely troubled for his Loss, retired to the top of a certain Hill to disburden himself of his Sorrow. At what time certain Barbarians espying him, and mounting up the Hill with their Arms in their Hands, a golden fleeced Ram leaping out of a Thicket, and seeing the Multitude coming, with articulate Language, and the Voice of a Man, awakened Phryxus fast asleep, as being tired with his Journey, and oppressed with Sorrow, and taking him up upon his Back, carried him to Colchos; and from this Accident it was that the mountainous Promontory was called the Rams Forehead.  
In this Mountain grows an Herb, by the Barbarians called Phryxa, not unlike our common Rue. Which if the Son of a former Mother have in his Possession, he can never be injured by his Step-dame. It chiefly grows nere the Place which is called Boreas's Den, and being gathered, is colder then Snow. But if any Step-dame be forming a Design against her Son-in-law, it sets itself on Fire, and sends forth a bright flamme. By which means, they who are thus warned, avoid the Danger they are in; as Agatho the Samian testifies in his second Book of the Scythian Relations.   

THERMODON.  
Thermodon is a River of Scythia, deriving its Name from the Accident. It was formerly called Chrystallus, as being often frozen in the Summer, the Situation of the Place producing that Effect. But the Name was altered upon this occasion.   

Caetera Desunt. NILE.  
Nilus is a River of Egypt, that runs by the City of Alexandria. It was formerly called Melas, from Melas the Son of Neptune; but afterwards it was called Egyptus, upon this occasion. Egyptus, the Son of Vulcan and Leucippe, was formerly King of the Country, between whom and his own Subjects, happened a Civil War. At what time the River Nile not increasing, the Egyptians were oppressed with Famine. Upon which the Oracle made Answer, that the Land should be again blessed with Plenty, if the King would sacrifice his Daughter, to atone the Anger of the Gods. Upon which the King, though greatly afflicted in his Mind, gave way to the public Good, and suffered his Daughter to be led to the Altar. But so soon as she was sacrificed, the King not able to support the burden of his Grief, threw himself into the River Melas, which after that was called Egyptus. But then it was called Nilus upon this Occasion.  
Garmathone, Queen of Egypt, having lost her Son Chrysochoa, while he was yet very young, with all her Servants and Friends, most bitterly bemoaned her Loss. At what time Isis appearing to her, she surceased her Sorrow for a while, and putting on the Countenance of a feigned Gratitude, kindly entertained the Goddess. Who willing to make a suitable Return to the Queen for the Piety which she expressed in her Reception, persuaded Osiris to bring back her Son from the subterraneal Regions. Which when Osiris undertook to do, at the Opportunity of his Wife, Cerberus, whom some call Phoberos, or the Terrible, barked so loud, that Nilus, Germathone's Husband struck with a sudden Frenzy, threw himself into the River Egyptus, which from thence was afterwards called Nilus.  
In this River grows a ston, not unlike to a Bean, which so soon as any Dog happens to see, he ceases to bark. It also expels the Evil Spirit out of those that are possessed, if held to the Nostrils of the Party afflicted.  
There are other Stones which are found in this River, called Kollotes, which the Swallows picking up against the time that Nilus overflows, build up the Wall which is cal●'d the Chelidoman Wall, which restrains the Inundation of the Water, and will not suffer the Country to be injured by the Fury of the Flood; as Thrasyllus tells us in his Relations of Egypt.  
Upon this River lies the Mountain Argyllus, so called for this Reason.  
Jupiter in the Heat of his amorous Desires, ravished away the nymph Arge from Lyctum, a City of crete, and then carried her to a Mountain of Egypt, called Argillus, and there begot a Son, whom he named Dionysius, who growing up to years of Manhood, in Honor of his Mother, called the Hill Argillus; and then mustering together an Army of Pans and Satyrs, first conquered the Indians, and then subduing Spain, left Pan behind him there the chief Commander and Governor of those Places, who by his own Name called that Country Pania, which was afterwards by his Posterity called Spania; as Sosthenes relates in his Ibeian Relation.   

Eurotas. Now Basilipotamo.  
Himerus, the Son of the Nymph Taygete and Lacedaemon, through the Anger of offended Venus, at a reveling that lasted all Night, deflowered his Sister Cleodice, not knowing what he did. But the next Day, being informed of the Truth of the Matter, he laid it so to heart, that through excess of Grief, he flung himself into the River Marathon, which from thence was called Himeros; but after that Eurotas, upon this Occasion.  
The lacedæmonians being at War with the Athenians, and staying for the Full Moon, Eurotas their Captain General, despising all Religion, would needs fight his Enemies, though at the same time it thundered and lightened as if Heaven and Earth would have come together. However, having lost his Army, the Ignominy of his Loss so incessantly perplexed him, that he flung himself into the River Himerus, which from that Accident was afterwards called Eurotas.  
In this River grows a ston which is shaped like a Helmet, called Thrasydeilos, or Rash and Timorous. For if it hears a Trumpet sound, it leaps toward the Bank of the River; but if you do but name the Athenians, it presently sinks to the bottom of the Water. Of these Stones there are not a few which are consecrated and laid up in the brazen Temple of Minerva, as Nicanor the Samian relates in his second Book of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Taygetus, 
Now ports, and Monte di Sperlunga.  deriving its Name from the Nymph Taygete, who after Jupiter had deflowered her, ended her days for Grief, upon the Mountain Armycleus, which from thence was called Taygetus.  
Upon this Mountain grows a Plant called Charisium, which the Women at the beginning of the Spring tied about their Necks, to make themselves more passionately to be beloved by Men; as Cleanthes reports in his First Book of Mountains. But Sosthenes the Cnidian is more accurate in the Relation of these things, from whom Hermogenes borrowed the Subject of his Writing.   

Inachus.  
Inachus is a River in the Territories of Argos, formerly called Carmanor. Afterwards Halyacmon, for this Reason.  
Halyacmon, a Tyrinthian by Birth, while he kept Sheep upon the Mountain Coccigium, happened against his Will to see Jupiter and Rhea spor●ing together; for which being strook mad, and hurried by the Violence of the frenzy, he flung himself into the River Carmanor, which after that was called Halyacmon. Afterwards it was called Inachus upon this Occasion.  
Inachus, the Son of Oceanus, after that Jupiter had deflowered his Sister jo, pursued the Deity close at the Heels, blaspheming and cursing him all the way as he went. Which so offended Jupiter, that he sent Tisiphone, one of the Furies, who haunted and plagued him to tha● degree, that he flung himself into the River Halyacmon, afterwards called by his own Name Inachus.  
In this River grows an Herb called Cyura, not unlike our common Rue. Which the Women that desire to miscarry without any Danger, lay upon their Navels, being first steeped in Wine.  
There is also found in this River, a certain ston, not unlike a Beryl, which in the Hands of a false Witness will grow black. Of these Stones there are many laid up in the Temple of 
So called from Prosymne, a City in the Territory of the Argives.  Prosymnea Juno; as Timosthenes relates in his Argelicks, and Atho the Samian, in his second Book of Rivers.  
Agathocles the Milesian in his History of Rivers, also adds, that Inachus for his Impiety was Thunder-strook by Jupiter, and so the River dried up.  
Nere to this River, lie the Mountains Mycaenae, Apaesantus, Coccygium, and Athaeneus; so called for these Reasons. Apaesantus was first called Selenarius. But Juno resolving to be revenged upon Hercules, called the Moon to her Assistance, who by the help of her magical Charms, filled a large Chest full of Foam and Froth, out of which sprung an immense lion; which Iris binding with her own Girdle, carried to the Mountain Opheltium, where the lion killed Apiesantus, one of the Shepherds belonging to that Place: and from that Accident, by the Will of the Gods, the Hill was called Apesantus; as Demodocus writes in his first Book of the History of Hercules.  
In this River grows an Herb called Selene, or the Moon, with the Froth of which being gathered in the Spring, the Shepherds anoint their Feet, and keep them from being bit or stung by any creeping vermin.  
The Mountains of Mycenae were formerly called Argyon, from the many-ey'd Argos; but afterwards the name was changed upon this occasion.  
When Perseus had slain Medusa, Stheno and Euriale Sisters to her that was killed, pursued him as a Murderer. But coming to this Hill, and despairing to overtake him, out of that extreme love which they had for their Sister, they made such a howling noise, that the Natives from thence called the top of the Mountain Mycaenae, us Cnesias the Ephesian relates in his first Book of the Acts of Perseas. But Chrysermus the Corinthian relates the story thus in the first Book of his Peloponnesiacs. For he says, that when Perseas was carried aloft in the Air, when he lit upon this Mountain, he lost the chap of his Scabbard. At what time this same Gorgophonos, or Gorgon-slayer, King of the Epidaurians, being expelled his Kingdom, received this answer upon his consulting the Oracle, that he should visit all the Cities of the Argolic Territory, and that where he found the chap of a Scabbard, he should build a City. Thereupon coming to the Mountain Argolic, called in the Greek {αβγδ}, and finding there an Ivory Scabbard, he built a City, and from the Accident, called it 
Now Agios, Adrianos in the Morea.  Mycenae.  
In this Mountain there is found a ston which is called Corybas, of a Crow colour, which he that finds and wears about him, shall never be afraid of any monstrous Apparitions. As for the Mountain Apesantus, this may be added, that Apesantus, the Son of Acrisicus, as he was a Hunting in that place, chanced to tread upon a venomous Serpent, which occasioned his Death. Whom when his Father had butted, in memory of his Son, he named the Hill Apesantus, which before was called Setinuntius.  
The Mountain Coccygium derived its Name from this Accident. Jupiter falling desperately in Love with his Sister Juno, and having vanquished her by his Importunity, begot a Male Child. From whence the Mountain before called Dicaeus, was named Coccygium; as Agatho relates in his Persis.  
In this Mountain grows a three, which is called Palinurus, upon the Boughs of which whatever Fowl happens to perch, they are presently entangled as it were with Bird-lime, and cannot stir; only the 
Which seems to be a better reason why the Mountain should be called Coccygium, then that before given. In regard that C●ccyx in Greek signifies a Cuccow.  Cuccow it lets go free, without any harm; as Ctesiphon testifies in his first Book of Trees.  
As for the Mountain Athenaeus, it derives its Name from Minerva. For after the destruction of Troy, Diomede returning to Argos, ascended▪ the Mountain Recaunius, and there erecting a Temple to Minerva, called the Mountain Athenaeus from her Name Athena.  
Upon the top of this Mountain grows a Root like to that of Rue, which if any Woman unwarily taste of, she presently runs Mad; This Root is called Adrastia, as 
Rather Lysimachus.  Phesimachus writes in his Second Book of the Returns of the Hero's.   

Alpheius. Now Carbon, or Darbon.  
Alpheius is a River of Arcadia running by the Walls of Pisa a City of Olympia( or as others would have it washing the feet of the Mountain Olymphius) formerly called Stymphelus, from Stymphelus the Son of Mars and Dormothea, who having lost his Brother Alcmaeon, threw himself for Grief into the River Nyctimus, for that reason called Stymphelus: afterwards it was called Alpheius upon this occasion.  
Alpheius, one of those that derives his descent from the Sun, contending with his Brother Kerkaphus about Courage and virtue, slay him: for which being chased away and pursued by the Shepherds, he flung himself into the River Nyctimus, which after that was called Alpheius.  
In this River grows a Plant which is called Kenchrytis, resembling a Honey-Comb, the Decoction of which being given by the Physitians to those that are Mad, cures them of their frenzy; as Ctesias relates in his first Book of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Cronium, so called upon this occasion. After the Giants War, Saturn to avoid the Threats of Jupiter, fled to the Mountain Cturus, and called it Cronium from his own Name. Whe●e after he had absconded for sometime, he took his opportunity, and retired to Caucasus in Scythia.  
In this Mountain is found a ston, which is called the Cylinder, upon this occasion. For as oft as Jupiter either Thunders or Lightens, so often this ston, through fear rowles down from the top of the Mountain; as Dercyllus writes in his first Book of Stones.   

Euphrates. Now Frat.  
Euphrates is a River of Parthia washing the Walls of Babylon( now Bagdat) formerly called Medus from Medus, the Son of Artaxerxes. He, in the heat of his Lust, having ravished away and deflowered Roxane, and finding that he was sought after by the King, in order to be brought to punishment, threw himself into the River Zaranda, which from thence forward was called by his name Medus. Afterwards it was called Euphrates upon this occasion.  
Euphrates the Son of Arandacus finding his Son Axurta a Bed with his Mother, and thinking him to be some one of his Courtiers, provoked by his Jealousy, he drew his Sword, and nailed him to the Bed. But perceiving himself the Author of what could not be recalled, he flung himself for Grief into the River Medus, which from that time forward was called by his Name Euphrates.  
In this River grows a ston called Asterites, which Mid-wives applying to the Navils of Women that are in hard labour, causes them to bring forth with little pain.  
In the same River also there grows an Herb which is called Exalla or Axalla, which signifies Heat. This ston they that are troubled with Quartan Agues, applying to their Breasts, are presently delivered from the Fit, as Chrysermus writes in his Thirteenth Book of Rivers.  
Nere this River lies the Mountain Drimyllus, where grows a ston, not unlike a Sardenyx, worn by Kings and Princes upon their Diadems, and greatly available against dimness of sight, as Micias Mallotes writes in his Book of Stones.   

Caicus. Now Girmasti, Castri, and Chiay.  
Caicus is a River of Mysia formerly called Astraeus from Astraeus the Son of Neptune. For he, in the height of Minerva's Nocturnal Solemnities having deflowered his Sister by a mistake, took a Ring at the same time from her Finger; by which when he understood the next day the Error which he had committed, for grief he threw himself headlong into the River Adurus, which from thence was called Astraeus. Afterwards it came to be called Caicus upon this occasion.  
Caicus, the Son of Hermes and Ocyerhoc the Nymph, having slain Timander one of the Noble Men of the Country, and fearing the revenge of his Relations, flung himself into the River Astraeus, which from that accident was called Caicus.  
In this River grows a sort of Poppy, which instead of Flowers bears several Stones. Of these, there are some which are black and shaped like Harps; which the Mysians throw upon their ploughed Lands; and if the Stones lie still in the place where they are thrown, 'tis a sign of a Barren Year; but if they fly away like so many Locusts, they prognosticate a plentiful Harvest.  
In the same River also grows an Herb which is called Elipharmacus, which the Physitians apply to such as are troubled with immoderate fluxes of Blood, as having a peculiar virtue to stop the Orifices of the Veins; according to the Relation of Timagoras in his first Book of Rivers.  
adjoining to the Banks of this River lies the Mountain Teuthras, so called from Teuthras King of the Mysians. Who in pursuance of his Sport, as he was a Hunting, ascending the Hill Thrasyllus, and seeing a Monstrous Wild-Boar, followed him close with the rest of his Train. On the other side the Boar to prevent the Hunters, like a suppliant, fled to the Temple of Orthosian Diana, into which when the Hunters were about to force their entrance, the Boar in Articulate Words cried out, spare, O King, the Nursery of the Goddess. However Teuthras, exalted with his good Success, killed the poor Boar. At which Diana was so highly offended, that she restored the Boar to Life, but struck the Offender with a scurf and madness. Which Affliction the King not enduring, betook himself to the Tops of the Mountains. But his Mother Leucippe, understanding what had befallen her Son, ran to the forest, taking along with her the soothe sayer Polyidon, the Son of Cyanus, by whom being informed of all the several Circumstances of the Matter, by many sacrifices she at last atoned the Anger of the Goddess, and having quiter recovered and cured her Son, erected an Altar to Orthosian Diana, and caused a Golden Boar to be made with a Mans-Face; which to this day if pursued by the Hunters, seems to enter the Temple, and speaks with the Voice of a Man. Thus Teuthras being restored to his former Health, called the Mountain by his own name Teuthras.  
In this Mountain grows a ston called Antipaths, or the Resister, which is of excellent virtue to cure Scabs and Leprosies, being powdered and mixed with Wine; as Cnidius tells us in his Second Book of Mountains.   

Achelous. Now Astropotomo, Geromlea, and Pachicolmo.  
Acheolus is a River of 
Now, il Despotato.  Aetolia formerly called Thestius. This Thestius was the Son of Mars and Pesidice, who upon some Domestic discontent, travelled as far as sition, 
Now B●silica or Vasilica in the Morea.  where after he had resided for some time, he return'd to his Native home. But finding there his Son Calydon and his Mother both upon the Bed together, believing him to be an Adulterer, he slay his own Child by a mistake. But when he beholded the unfortunate and unexpected Fact he had committed, he threw himself into the River Axenos, which from thence was afterwards called Thestius: And after that, Achelous upon this Occasion.  
Achelous the Son of Oceanus and the Nymph Nais, having deflowered his Daughter Clestoria, flung himself for grief into the River Thestius, which then by his own name was called Achelous.  
In this River grows an Herb, which they call Zaclon, very much resembling Wool, this if you bruise and cast into Wine, it becomes Water, and preserves the smell but not the virtues of the Wine.  
In the same River also is found a certain ston of a mixed Black and led colour, called Linurgus from the effect; for if you throw it upon a saith, by a certain effectionate Union it assumes the shape of the linen, and turns white, as Antisthenes relates in the Third Book of his Meleagris; though Diocles the Rhodian more accurately tells us the same thing in his Aetolics.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Calydon, so called from Calydon the Son of Mars and Astigone; For that he by an accident having seen Diana bathing her self, was transformed into a Rock, and the Mountain which before was named Gyron, was afterwards called Calydon.  
Upon this Mountain grows an Herb called Myops, which if any one steep in Water, and washes his Face with it, he shall loose his sight, but upon his atoning Diana, shall recover it again; as Dercyllus writes in his Third Book of Aetolics.   

Araxes, Now Arass, Arais, Achlar and Caiacs.  
Araxes is a River in armoniac, so called from Araxus the Son of Pylus. For he contending with his Grand-Father Arbelus for the Empire, stabbed him with an Arrow. For which being haunted by the Furies, he threw himself into the River Baetros, for that reason called Araxes; as Ctesiphon testifies in his First Book of Persian Affairs. Araxes King of the Armenians, being at War with his Neighbours the Persians, before they came to a Battle, was  told by the Oracle that he should win the Victories, if he sacrificed to the Gods two of the most noble Virgins in his Kingdom. Now he out of his paternal Affection to his Children, spared hi● own Daughters, and caused two lovely Virgins, the Daughters of one of his Nobility to be laid upon the Altar. Which Mnesalkes, the Father of the Victims laying to heart, for a time concealed his Indignation, but afterwards, observing his opportunity, killed both the Kings Daughters, and then leaving his native soil fled into Scythia. Which when Araxes understood, for grief he threw himself into the River Halmus, which then was altered, and the River called Araxes.  
In this River grows a Plant which is called Araxa, which in the Language of the Natives signifies a Virgin Hater. For that if it happen to be found by any Virgin, it falls a bleeding and dyes away.  
In the same River there is also found a ston, of a black colour, called Sicyorus. This ston when the Oracle advices the sacrificing of a human Victim, is laid upon the Altar of the Mischief diverting Gods. And then, no sooner does the Priest but touch it with his Knife but it sends forth a stream of Blood; at what time the superstitious sacrificers retire and with howlings and loud Ohonings carry the ston to the Temple, as Doritheus the Caldaean relates in his Second Book of Stones.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Diorphus; so called from Diorphus, the Son of the Earth; of whom this Story is reported. Methras desirous to have a Son, yet hating Woman-kind, 
Saxum Sarrivit, according to that of marshal, Quid Sarrire si velit Saxum?  lay with a ston till he had heated it to that degree, that the ston grew big, and at the prefixed time was delivered of a Son, called Diorphos, who growing up and contending with Mars for courage and stoutness was by him slain; and the Mountain where the Contender was butted was called Diorphos by his Name.  
In this Mountain grows a three, not unlike a Pomegranate-Tree, which yields plenty of apple, in taste like Grapes. Now if any one gather the ripest of this Fruit, and do but name Mars while he holds it in his hand, it will presently grown green again, as Ctesiphon Witnesses in his Third Book of Trees.   

Tigris. Now Tegil, Sir, and Ser.  
Tigris is a River of armoniac, flowing into Araxes and the Lake 
Now Lac de Vastan, or Mer d'Armenie.  of Arsacis, formerly called Sollax, which signifies running and carried downward. It was called Tigris upon this occasion.  
Bacchus, through the Anger of Juno, running mad, wandered over-Sea and Land, desirous to be quit of his Distemper. At length coming into armoniac, and not being able to pass the River before mentioned, called upon Jupiter, who listening to his Prayers, sent him a Tiger that carried him safely over the Water; in remembrance of which Accident he called the River Tigris, as Theophilus relates in his First Book of Stones. But Hermesianax tells the Story thus.  
Bacchus falling in Love with the Nymph Alphesiboea, and being able to vanquish her neither with Presents nor entreaties, turned himself into the shape of the River Tigris and overcoming his Beloved by fear, took her away, and carrying her over the River, begot a Son whom he called Medus; who growing up in Years, in remembrance of the accident called the River by the Name of Tigris; as Aristonymus relates in his Third Book.  
In this River a ston is to be found called Myndan very White; which whoever enjoys, shall never be hurt by wild Beasts; as lo of Byzantium testifies in his Third Book of Rivers.  
Nere to this River lies the Mountain Gauran; so called from Gauran the Son of the Satrap of the Province of Roxanes; who being extremely Religious and Devout toward the Gods, received this reward of his Piety, that of all the Persians he only lived three hundred Years; and dying at last without being ever afflicted with any Disease, was butted upon the Top of the Mountain Gauran, where he had a sumptuous Monument erected to his Memory. Afterwards, by the Providence of the Gods the name of the Mountain was changed to that of Mausorus.  
In this Mountain grows an Herb, which is like to Wild-Barley. This Herb the Natives heat over the fire, and anointing themselves with the oil of it, are never sick, till the necessity of dying overtakes them, as Sostratus writes in his First Collection of Fabulous History.   

Indus. Now sinned.  
Indus is a River in India flowing with a rapid violence into the Country of the Fish-devourers. It was first called Mausolus, from Mausolus the Son of the Sun, but changed it's name for this reason.  
At the time when the Mysteries of Bacchus were solemnized, and that the People were earnest at their Devotion, Indus one of the chief of the Young-Nobility, by force deflowered Damasalkidas, the Daughter of Oxyalcus the King of the Country, as she was carrying the Sacred-Basket, or Canistrum; for which being sought for by the Tyrant, in order to bring him to condign Punishment, for fear he threw himself into the River Mausolus, which from that accident was afterwards called Indus.  
In this River grows a certain ston called Carpyce which if a Virgin carry about her, she need never be afraid of being deflower'd.  
In the same River also grows an Herb, which is called Carpyce, not unlike to Bugloss. Which is an Excellent Remedy against the Kings-Evil, being administered to the Patient in warm-water; as Clitophon, the Rhodian, reports in his First Book of Indian Relations.  
Nere to this Mountain lies the Mountain Lileus, so called from Lileus a Shepherd; who being very superstitious, and a sole-worshipper of the Moon, always performed her Mysteries in the dead time of the Night: Which the rest of the Gods taking for a great dishonour, sent two Monstrous Lions that tore him in pieces Upon which the Moon turned her Adorer into a Mountain of the same name.  
In this Mountain a ston is found which is called Clitoris, of a very Black-color, which the Natives wear for Ornaments-sake, at the solemn sacrifices which they make after their escape from any Danger or Sickness; as Aristotle Witnesses in his Fourth Book of Rivers.    
FINIS.