No More Learning

Forsomuch
as they have not frequented this vertue, who gloriously, as in a
throne of Majestie sits soveraigne, goodly, triumphant, lovely,
equally delicious, and couragious, protesting her selfe to be a
professed and irreconcileable enemie to all sharpnesse, austeritie,
feare, and compulsion; having nature for her guide, fortune and
voluptuousnesse for her companions; they according to their
weaknesse have imaginarily fained her, to have a foolish, sad, grim,
quarelous, spitefull, threatning, and disdainfull visage, with an
horride and unpleasant looke; and have placed her upon a craggie,
sharpe, and unfrequented rocke, amidst desert cliffes and uncouth
crags, as a scar-crow, or bugbeare, to affright the common people
with. Now the tutour, which ought to know that he should rather seek
to fill the mind and store the will of his disciple, as much, or
rather more, with love and affection, than with awe, and reverence
unto vertue, may shew and tell him, that Poets follow common
humours, making him plainly to perceive, and as it were palpably to
feele, that the Gods have rather placed labour and sweat at the
entrances which lead to Venus chambers, than at the doores that
direct to Pallas cabinets.

And when he shall perceive his scholler to have a sensible feeling
of himselfe, presenting Bradamant [Footnote: A warlike heroine in
Boiardo's "Orlando Innamorato" and Ariosto's "Orlando Furioso. "] or
Angelica [Footnote: The faithless princess, on account of whom
Orlando goes mad, in the same poems. ] before him, as a Mistresse to
enjoy, embelished with a naturall, active, generous, and unspotted
beautie not uglie or Giant-like, but blithe and livelie, in respect
of a wanton, soft, affected, and artificiall-flaring beautie; the
one attired like unto a young man, coyfed with a bright-shining
helmet, the other disguised and drest about the head like unto an
impudent harlot, with embroyderies, frizelings, and carcanets of
pearles: he will no doubt deeme his owne love to be a man and no
woman, if in his choice he differ from that effeminate shepheard of
Phrygia. In this new kind of lesson he shall declare unto him, that
the prize, the glorie, and height of true vertue, consisted in the
facilitie, profit, and pleasure of his exercises: so far from
difficultie and incumbrances, that children as well as men, the
simple as soone as the wise, may come unto her. Discretion and
temperance, not force or way-wardnesse are the instruments to bring
him unto her. Socrates (vertues chiefe favorite) that he might the
better walke in the pleasant, naturall, and open path of her
progresses, doth voluntarily and in good, earnest, quit all
compulsion. Shee is the nurse and foster-mother of all humane
[Footnote: Human. ] pleasures, who in making them just and upright,
she also makes them sure and sincere. By moderating them, she
keepeth them in ure [Footnote: Practice. ] and breath. In limiting
and cutting them off, whom she refuseth; she whets us on toward
those she leaveth unto us; and plenteously leaves us them, which
Nature pleaseth, and like a kind mother giveth us over unto
satietie, if not unto wearisomnesse, unlesse we will peradventure
say that the rule and bridle, which stayeth the drunkard before
drunkennesse, the glutton before surfetting, and the letcher before
the losing of his haire, be the enemies of our pleasures. If common
fortune faile her, it cleerely scapes her; or she cares not for her,
or she frames another unto herselfe, altogether her owne, not so
fleeting nor so rowling. She knoweth the way how to be rich, mightie
and wise, and how to lie in sweet-perfumed beds. She loveth life;
she delights in beautie, in glorie, and in health. But her proper
and particular office is, first to know how to use such goods
temperately, and how to lose them constantly. An office much more
noble than severe, without which all course of life is unnaturall,
turbulent, and deformed, to which one may lawfully joyne those
rocks, those incumbrances, and those hideous monsters. If so it
happen, that his Disciple prove of so different a condition, that he
rather love to give eare to an idle fable than to the report of some
noble voiage, or other notable and wise discourse, when he shall
heare it; that at the sound of a Drum or clang of a Trumpet, which
are wont to rowse and arme the youthly heat of his companions,
turneth to another that calleth him to see a play, tumbling, jugling
tricks, or other idle lose-time sports; and who for pleasures sake
doth not deeme it more delightsome to returne all sweatie and wearie
from a victorious combat, from wrestling, or riding of a horse, than
from a Tennis-court or dancing schoole, with the prize or honour of
such exercises; The best remedy I know for such a one is, to put him
prentice to some base occupation, in some good towne or other, yea,
were he the sonne of a Duke; according to Platoes rule, who saith
"That children must be placed, not according to their fathers
conditions, but the faculties of their mind. " Since it is
Philosophie that teacheth us to live, and that infancie as well as
other ages, may plainly read her lessons in the same, why should it
not be imparted unto young Schollers?

Vdum et molle lutum est, nunc nunc properandus, et acri
Fingendus sine fine rota.
[Footnote: PES. Sat. iii. 23. ]

He's moist and soft mould, and must by and by
Be cast, made up, while wheele whirls readily.

We are taught to live when our life is well-nigh spent. Many
schollers have been infected with that loathsome and marrow-wasting
disease before ever they came to read Aristotles treatise of
Temperance. Cicero was wont to say, "That could he out-live the
lives of two men, he should never find leasure to study the Lyrike
Poets. " And I find these Sophisters both worse and more
unprofitable. Our childe is engaged in greater matters; And but the
first fifteene or sixteene yeares of his life are due unto
Pedantisme, the rest unto action: let us therefore imploy so short
time as we have to live in more necessarie instructions. It is an
abuse; remove these thornie quiddities of Logike, whereby our life
can no whit be amended, and betake our selves to the simple
discourses of Philosophy; know how to chuse and fitly to make use of
them: they are much more easie to be conceived than one of Bocace
his tales. A childe comming from nurse is more capable of them, than
he is to learne to read or write. Philosophy hath discourses,
whereof infancie as well as decaying old-age may make good use. I am
of Plutarkes mind, which is, that Aristotle did not so much ammuse
his great Disciple about the arts how to frame Syllogismes, or the
principles of Geometric, as he endevoured to instruct him with good
precepts concerning valour, prowesse, magnanimitie, and temperance,
and an undanted assurance not to feare any thing; and with such
munition he sent him, being yet verie young, to subdue the Empire of
the world, only with 30000 footmen, 4000 horsemen, and 42000 Crownes
in monie. As for other arts and sciences; he saith Alexander
honoured them, and commended their excellencie and comlinesse; but
for any pleasure he tooke in them, his affection could not easily be
drawne to exercise them.

--petite hinc juvenesque senesque
Finem animo certum, miserisque viatica canis.
[Footnote: Sat. v. 64]

Young men and old, draw hence (in your affaires)
Your minds set marke, provision for gray haires.

It is that which Epicurus said in the beginning of his letter to
Memiceus: "Neither let the youngest shun nor the oldest wearie
himselfe in philosophying, for who doth otherwise seemeth to say,
that either the season to live happily is not yet come, or is
already past. " Yet would I not have this young gentleman pent-up,
nor carelesly cast-off to the heedlesse choler, or melancholy humour
of the hasty Schoole-master. I would not have his budding spirit
corrupted with keeping him fast-tied, and as it were labouring
fourteene or fifteene houres a day poaring on his booke, as some
doe, as if he were a day-labouring man; neither doe I thinke it fit,
if at any time, by reason of some solitairie or melancholy
complexion, he should be scene with an over-indiscreet application
given to his booke, it should be cherished in him; for, that doth
often make him both unapt for civill conversation and distracts him
from better imployments: How many have I scene in my daies, by an
over-greedy desire of knowledge, become as it were foolish?
Carneades was so deeply plunged, and as I may say besotted in it,
that he could never have leasure to cut his haire, or pare his
nailes: nor would I have his noble manners obscured by the
incivilitie and barbarisme of others. The French wisdome hath long
since proverbially been spoken of as verie apt to conceive study in
her youth, but most unapt to keepe it long. In good truth, we see at
this day that there is nothing lovelier to behold than the young
children of France; but for the most part, they deceive the hope
which was fore-apprehended of them: for when they once become men,
there is no excellencie at all in them. I have heard men of
understanding hold this opinion, that the Colleges to which they are
sent (of which there are store) doe thus besot them: whereas to our
scholler, a cabinet, a gardin, the table, the bed, a solitarinesse,
a companie, morning and evening, and all houres shall be alike unto
him, all places shall be a study for him: for Philosophy (as a
former of judgements, and modeler of customes) shall be his
principall lesson, having the privilege to entermeddle her selfe
with all things, and in all places. Isocrates the Orator, being once
requested at a great banket to speake of his art, when all thought
he had reason to answer, said, "It is not now time to doe what I
can, and what should now be done, I cannot doe it; For, to present
orations, or to enter into disputation of Rhetorike, before a
companie assembled together to be merrie, and make good cheere,
would be but a medley of harsh and jarring musicke. " The like may be
said of all other Sciences. But touching Philosophy, namely, in that
point where it treateth of man, and of his duties and offices, it
hath been the common judgement of the wisest, that in regard of the
pleasantnesse of her conversatione, she ought not to be rejected,
neither at banquets nor at sports. And Plato having invited her to
his solemne feast, we see how kindly she entertaineth the companie
with a milde behaviour, fitly suting her selfe to time and place,
notwithstanding it be one of his learned'st and profitable
discourses.

AEque pauperibus prodest, locupletibus aque,
Et neglecta aeque pueris senibusque nocebit.
[Footnote: HOR. 1. i. Epist. 125. ]

Poore men alike, alike rich men it easeth,
Alike it, scorned, old and young displeaseth.

So doubtlesse he shall lesse be idle than others; for even as the
paces we bestow walking in a gallerie, although they be twice as
many more, wearie us not so much as those we spend in going a set
journey: So our lesson being past over, as it were, by chance, or
way of encounter, without strict observance of time or place, being
applied to all our actions, shall be digested, and never felt. All
sports and exercises shall be a part of his study; running,
wrestling, musicke, dancing, hunting, and managing of armes and
horses. I would have the exterior demeanor or decencie, and the
disposition of his person to be fashioned together with his mind:
for, it is not a mind, it is not a body that we erect, but it is a
man, and we must not make two parts of him. And as Plato saith, They
must not be erected one without another, but equally be directed, no
otherwise than a couple of horses matched to draw in one selfe-same
teeme. And to heare him, doth he not seeme to imploy more time and
care in the exercises of his bodie: and to thinke that the minde is
together with the same exercised, and not the contrarie? As for
other matters, this institution ought to be directed by a sweet-
severe mildnesse; Not as some do, who in liew of gently-bidding
children to the banquet of letters, present them with nothing but
horror and crueltie. Let me have this violence and compulsion
removed, there is nothing that, in my seeming, doth more bastardise
and dizzie a welborne and gentle nature: If you would have him stand
in awe of shame and punishment, doe not so much enure him to it:
accustome him patiently to endure sweat and cold, the sharpnesse of
the wind, the heat of the sunne, and how to despise all hazards.
Remove from him all nicenesse and quaintnesse in clothing, in lying,
in eating, and in drinking: fashion him to all things, that he prove
not a faire and wanton-puling boy, but a lustie and vigorous boy:
When I was a child, being a man, and now am old, I have ever judged
and believed the same. But amongst other things, I could never away
with this kind of discipline used in most of our Colleges. It had
peradventure been lesse hurtfull, if they had somewhat inclined to
mildnesse, or gentle entreatie. It is a verie prison of captivated
youth, and proves dissolute in punishing it before it be so. Come
upon them when they are going to their lesson, and you heare nothing
but whipping and brawling, both of children tormented, and masters
besotted with anger and chafing. How wide are they, which go about
to allure a childs mind to go to its booke, being yet but tender and
fearefull, with a stearne-frowning countenance, and with hands full
of rods? Oh wicked and pernicious manner of teaching! which
Quintillian hath very wel noted, that this imperious kind of
authoritie, namely, this way of punishing of children, drawes many
dangerous inconveniences within. How much more decent were it to see
their school-houses and formes strewed with greene boughs and
flowers, than with bloudy burchen-twigs? If it lay in me, I would
doe as the Philosopher Speusippus did, who caused the pictures of
Gladness and Joy, of Flora and of the Graces, to be set up round
about his school-house. Where their profit lieth, there should also
be their recreation. Those meats ought to be sugred over, that are
healthful for childrens stomakes, and those made bitter that are
hurtfull for them. It is strange to see how carefull Plato sheweth
him selfe in framing of his lawes about the recreation and pastime
of the youth of his Citie, and how far he extends him selfe about
their exercises, sports, songs, leaping, and dancing, whereof he
saith, that severe antiquitie gave the conduct and patronage unto
the Gods themselves, namely, to Apollo, to the Muses, and to
Minerva. Marke but how far-forth he endevoreth to give a thousand
precepts to be kept in his places of exercises both of bodie and
mind. As for learned Sciences, he stands not much upon them, and
seemeth in particular to commend Poesie, but for Musickes sake. All
strangenesse and selfe-particularitie in our manners and conditions,
is to be shunned, as an enemie to societie and civill conversation.
Who would not be astonished at Demophons complexion, chiefe steward
of Alexanders household, who was wont to sweat in the shadow, and
quiver for cold in the sunne? I have seene some to startle at the
smell of an apple more than at the shot of a peece; some to be
frighted with a mouse, some readie to cast their gorge [Footnote:
Vomit. ] at the sight of a messe of creame, and others to be scared
with seeing a fether bed shaken: as Germanicus, who could not abide
to see a cock, or heare his crowing. There may haply be some hidden
propertie of nature, which in my judgement might easilie be removed,
if it were taken in time. Institution hath gotten this upon me (I
must confesse with much adoe) for, except beere, all things else
that are mans food agree indifferently with my taste. The bodie
being yet souple, ought to be accommodated to all fashions and
customes; and (alwaies provided, his appetites and desires be kept
under) let a yong man boldly be made fit for al Nations and
companies; yea, if need be, for al disorders and surfetings; let him
acquaint him selfe with al fashions; That he may be able to do al
things, and love to do none but those that are commendable. Some
strict Philosophers commend not, but rather blame Calisthenes, for
losing the good favour of his Master Alexander, only because he
would not pledge him as much as he had drunke to him. He shall
laugh, jest, dally, and debauch himselfe with his Prince. And in his
debauching, I would have him out-go al his fellowes in vigor and
constancie, and that he omit not to doe evill, neither for want of
strength or knowledge, but for lacke of will. Multum interest utrum
peccare quis nolit, aut nesciat: [Footnote: HOR. Epist. xvii. 23. ]
"There is a great difference, whether one have no will, or no wit to
doe amisse. " I thought to have honoured a gentleman (as great a
stranger, and as far from such riotous disorders as any is in
France) by enquiring of him in verie good companie, how many times
in all his life he had bin drunke in Germanie during the time of his
abode there, about the necessarie affaires of our King; who tooke it
even as I meant it, and answered three times, telling the time and
manner how. I know some, who for want of that qualitie, have been
much perplexed when they have had occasion to converse with that
nation. I have often noted with great admiration, that wonderfull
nature of Alcibiades, to see how easilie he could sute himselfe to
so divers fashions and different humors, without prejudice unto his
health; sometimes exceeding the sumptuousnesse and pompe of the
Persians, and now and then surpassing. the austeritie and frugalitie
of the Lacedemonians; as reformed in Sparta, as voluptuous in Ionia.

Omnis Atistippum decuit color, et status, et res.
[Footnote: HOR. Epist. xvii. 25. ]

All colours, states, and things are fit
For courtly Aristippus wit.

Such a one would I frame my Disciple,

--quem duplici panno patientia velat,
Mirabor, vita via si conversa decebit.

Whom patience clothes with sutes of double kind,
I muse, if he another way will find.

Personavnque feret non inconcinnus utramque.
[Footnote: CIC. Tusc. Qu. 1. iv. ]

He not unfitly may,
Both parts and persons play.

Loe here my lessons, wherein he that acteth them, profiteth more
than he that but knoweth them, whom if you see, you heare, and if
you heare him, you see him. God forbid, saith some bodie in Plato,
that to Philosophize, be to learne many things, and to exercise the
arts. Hanc amplissimam omnium artium bene vivendi disciplinam, vita
magis quant litteris persequntd sunt [Footnote: Ib. 29. ] "This
discipline of living well, which is the amplest of all other arts,
they followed rather in their lives than in their learning or
writing. " Leo Prince of the Phliasians, enquiring of Heraclides
Ponticus, what art he professed, he answered, "Sir, I professe
neither art nor science; but I am a Philosopher. " Some reproved
Diogenes, that being an ignorant man, he did neverthelesse meddle
with Philosophie, to whom he replied, "So much the more reason have
I and to greater purpose doe I meddle with it. " Hegesias praid him
upon a time to reade some booke unto him: "You are a merry man,"
said he: "As you chuse naturall and not painted, right and not
counterfeit figges to eat, why doe you not likewise chuse, not the
painted and written, but the true and naturall exercises? " He shall
not so much repeat, as act his lesson. In his actions shall he make
repetition of the same. We must observe, whether there bee wisdome
in his enterprises, integritie in his demeanor, modestie in his
jestures, justice in his actions, judgement and grace in his speech,
courage in his sicknesse, moderation in his sports, temperance in
his pleasures, order in the government of his house, and
indifference in his taste, whether it be flesh, fish, wine, or
water, or whatsoever he feedeth upon. Qui disciplinam suam non
ostentationem scientiae sed legem vitae putet: quique obtemperet
ipse sibi, et decretis pareat [Footnote: Ib. I. ii. ] "Who thinks his
learning not an ostentation of knowledge, but a law of life, and
himselfe obayes himselfe, and doth what is decreed. "

The true mirror of our discourses is the course of our lives.
Zeuxidamus answered one that demanded of him, why the Lacedemonians
did not draw into a booke, the ordinances of prowesse, that so their
yong men might read them; "it is," saith he, "because they would
rather accustome them to deeds and actions, than to bookes and
writings. " Compare at the end of fifteene or sixteene yeares one of
these collegiall Latinizers, who hath imployed all that while onely
in learning how to speake, to such a one as I meane. The world is
nothing but babling and words, and I never saw man that doth not
rather speake more than he ought, than lesse. Notwithstanding halfe
our age is consumed that way. We are kept foure or five yeares
learning to understand bare words, and to joine them into clauses,
then as long in proportioning a great bodie extended into foure or
five parts; and five more at least ere we can succinctly know how to
mingle, joine, and interlace them handsomly into a subtil fashion,
and into one coherent orbe. Let us leave it to those whose
profession is to doe nothing else. Being once on my journey to
Orleans, it was my chance to meet upon that plaine that lieth on
this side Clery, with two Masters of Arts, traveling toward
Bordeaux, about fiftie paces one from another; far off behind them,
I descride a troupe of horsemen, their Master riding formost, who
was the Earle of Rochefocault; one of my servants enquiring of the
first of those Masters of Arts, what Gentleman he was that followed
him; supposing my servant had meant his fellow-scholler, for he had
not yet seen the Earles traine, answered pleasantly, "He is no
gentleman, Sir, but a Gramarian, and I am a Logitian. " Now, we that
contrariwise seek not to frame a Gramarian, nor a Logitian, but a
compleat gentleman, let us give them leave to mispend their time; we
have else-where, and somewhat else of more import to doe. So that
our Disciple be well and sufficiently stored with matter; words will
follow apace, and if they will hot follow gently, he shall hale them
on perforce. I heare some excuse themselves, that they cannot
expresse their meaning, and make a semblance that their heads are so
full stuft with many goodly things, but for want of eloquence they
can neither titter nor make show of them. It is a meere fopperie.
And will you know what, in my seeming, the cause is? They are
shadows and Chimeraes, proceeding of some formelesse conceptions,
which they cannot distinguish or resolve within, and by consequence
are not able to produce them in as-much as they understand not
themselves: And if you but marke their earnestnesse, and how they
stammer and labour at the point of their deliverle, you would deeme
that what they go withall, is but a conceiving, and therefore
nothing neere downelying; and that they doe but licke that imperfect
and shapelesse lump of matter. As for me, I am of opinion, and
Socrates would have it so, that he who had a cleare and lively
imagination in his mind, may easilie produce and utter the same,
although it be in Bergamaske [Footnote: A rustic dialect of the
north of Italy. ] or Welsh, and if he be dumbe, by signes and tokens.

Verbaque praevisam rem non invita sequentur.
[Footnote: HOR. Art. Poet. 311. ]

When matter we fore-know,
Words voluntarie flow.

As one said, as poetically in his prose, Cum res animum occupavere,
verba ambiunt; [Footnote: SED. Controv. 1. vii. prae. ] "When matter
hath possest their minds, they hunt after words:" and another: Ipsa
res verba rapiunt: [Footnote: CIC. de Fin. I. iii. c. 5. ] "Things
themselves will catch and carry words:" He knowes neither Ablative,
Conjunctive, Substantive, nor Gramar, no more doth his Lackey, nor
any Oyster-wife about the streets, and yet if you have a mind to it
he will intertaine you, your fill, and peradventure stumble as
little and as seldome against the rules of his tongue, as the best
Master of arts in France. He hath no skill in Rhetoricke, nor can he
with a preface fore-stall and captivate the Gentle Readers good
will: nor careth he greatly to know it. In good sooth, all this
garish painting is easilie defaced, by the lustre of an in-bred and
simple truth; for these dainties and quaint devices serve but to
ammuse the vulgar sort; unapt and incapable to taste the most solid
and firme meat: as Afer verie plainly declareth in Cornelius
Tacitus. The Ambassadours of Samos being come to Cleomenes King of
Sparta, prepared with a long prolix Oration, to stir him up to war
against the tyrant Policrates, after he had listned a good while
unto them, his answer was: "Touching your Exordium or beginning I
have forgotten it; the middle I remember not; and for your
conclusion I will do nothing in it. " A fit, and (to my thinking) a
verie good answer; and the Orators were put to such a shift; as they
knew not what to replie. And what said another? the Athenians from
out two of their cunning Architects, were to chuse one to erect a
notable great frame; the one of them more affected and selfe
presuming, presented himselfe before them, with a smooth fore-
premeditated discourse, about the subject of that piece of worke,
and thereby drew the judgements of the common people unto his
liking; but the other in few words spake thus: "Lords of Athens,
what this man hath said I will performe. " In the greatest
earnestnesse of Ciceroes eloquence many were drawn into a kind of
admiration; But Cato jesting at it, said, "Have we not a pleasant
Consull? " A quicke cunning Argument, and a wittie saying, whether it
go before or come after, it is never out of season. If it have no
coherence with that which goeth before, nor with what commeth after;
it is good and commendable in it selfe. I am none of those that
think a good Ryme, to make a good Poeme; let him hardly (if so he
please) make a short syllable long, it is no great matter; if the
invention be rare and good, and his wit and judgement have cunningly
played their part. I will say to such a one; he is a good Poet, but
an ill Versifier.

Emunciae naris, durus componere versus.
[Footnote: HOR. 1. i. Sat. iv. ]

A man whose sense could finely pierce,
But harsh and hard to make a verse.

Let a man (saith Horace) make his worke loose all seames, measures,
and joynts.

Tempora certa moddsque, et quod prius ordine verbum est,
[Footnote: Ib. 58. ]
Posterius facias, praeponens ultima primis:
Invenias etiam disjecti membra Poetae.
[Footnote: Ib. 62. ]

Set times and moods, make you the first word last,
The last word first, as if they were new cast:
Yet find th' unjoynted Poets joints stand fast.

He shall for all that, nothing gain-say himselfe, every piece will
make a good shew. To this purpose answered Menander those that chid
him, the day being at hand, in which he had promised a Comedy, and
had not begun the same, "Tut-tut," said he, "it is alreadie
finished, there wanteth nothing but to adde the verse unto it;" for,
having ranged and cast the plot in his mind, he made small accompt
of feet, of measures, or cadences of verses, which indeed are but of
small import in regard of the rest. Since great Ronsarde and learned
Bellay have raised our French Poesie unto that height of honour
where it now is: I see not one of these petty ballad-makers, or
prentise dogrell rymers, that doth not bombast his labours with
high-swelling and heaven-disimbowelling words, and that doth not
marshall his cadences verie neere as they doe. Plus sonat quam
valet. [Footnote: Sen, Epist. xl. ] "The sound is more than the
weight or worth. " And for the vulgar sort there were never so many
Poets, and so few good: but as it hath been easie for them to
represent their rymes, so come they far short in imitating the rich
descriptions of the one, and rare inventions of the other. But what
shall he doe, if he be urged with sophisticall subtilties about a
Sillogisme? A gammon of Bacon makes a man drink, drinking quencheth
a mans thirst; Ergo, a gammon of bacon quencheth a mans thirst. Let
him mock at it, it is more wittie to be mockt at than to be
answered. Let him borrow this pleasant counter-craft of Aristippus;
"Why shall I unbind that, which being bound doth so much trouble
me?
" Some one proposed certaine Logicall quiddities against
Cleanthes, to whom Chrisippus said; use such jugling tricks to play
with children, and divert not the serious thoughts of an aged man to
such idle matters. If such foolish wiles, Contorta et aculeata
sophismata, [Footnote: Cic. Acad. Qu. 1. iv. ] "Intricate and stinged
sophismes," must perswade a lie, it is dangerous: but if they proove
void of any effect, and move him but to laughter, I see not why he
shall beware of them. Some there are so foolish that will go a
quarter of a mile out of the way to hunt after a quaint new word, if
they once get in chace; Aut qui non verba rebus aptant, sed res
extrinsecus arcessunt, quibus verba conveniant: "Or such as fit not
words to matter, but fetch matter from abroad, whereto words be
fitted. " And another, Qui alicujus verbi decore placentis, vocentur
ad id quod non proposuerant scribere: [Footnote: Sen. Epist. liii. ]
"Who are allured by the grace of some pleasing word, to write what
they intended not to write. " I doe more willingly winde up a wittie
notable sentence, that so I may sew it upon me, than unwinde my
thread to go fetch it. Contrariwise, it is for words to serve and
wait upon the matter, and not for matter to attend upon words, and
if the French tongue cannot reach unto it, let the Gaskonie, or any
other. I would have the matters to surmount, and so fill the
imagination of him that harkeneth, that he have no remembrance at
all of the words. It is a naturall, simple, and unaffected speech
that I love, so written as it is spoken, and such upon the paper, as
it is in the mouth, a pithie, sinnowie, full, strong, compendious
and materiall speech, not so delicate and affected as vehement and
piercing.

Hac demum sapiet dictio qua feriet.
[Footnote: Epitaph on Lucan, 6. ]

In fine, that word is wisely fit,
Which strikes the fence, the marke doth hit.

Rather difficult than tedious, void of affection, free, loose and
bold, that every member of it seeme to make a bodie; not
Pedanticall, nor Frier-like, nor Lawyer-like, but rather downe
right, Souldier-like. As Suetonius calleth that of Julius Caesar,
which I see no reason wherefore he calleth it. I have sometimes
pleased myselfe in imitating that licenciousnesse or wanton humour
of our youths, in wearing of their garments; as carelessly to let
their cloaks hang downe over one shoulder; to weare their cloakes
scarfe or bawdrikewise, and their stockings loose hanging about
their legs. It represents a kind of disdainful fiercenesse of these
forraine embellishings, and neglect carelesnesse of art: But I
commend it more being imployed in the course and forme of speech.
All manner of affectation, namely [Footnote: Especially,] in the
livelinesse and libertie of France, is unseemely in a Courtier. And
in a Monarchie every Gentleman ought to addresse himselfe unto
[Footnote: Aim at] a Courtiers carriage. Therefore do we well
somewhat to incline to a native and carelesse behaviour. I like not
a contexture, where the seames and pieces may be seen: As in a well
compact bodie, what need a man distinguish and number all the bones
and veines severally? Quae veritati operam dat oratio, incomposita
sit et simplex [Footnote: Sen. Epist. xl] Quis accurate loquitur
nisi qui vult putide loqui [Footnote: Ib. Epist. ixxr. ] "The speach
that intendeth truth must be plaine and unpollisht: Who speaketh
elaborately, but he that meanes to speake unfavourably? " That
eloquence offereth injurie unto things, which altogether drawes us
to observe it. As in apparell, it is a signe of pusillanimitie for
one to marke himselfe, in some particular and unusuall fashion: so
likewise in common speech, for one to hunt after new phrases, and
unaccustomed quaint words, proceedeth of a scholasticall and
childish ambition. Let me use none other than are spoken in the hals
of Paris. Aristophanes the Gramarian was somewhat out of the way,
when he reproved Epicurus, for the simplicitie of his words, and the
end of his art oratorie, which was onely perspicuitie in speech. The
imitation of speech, by reason of the facilitie of it, followeth
presently a whole nation. The imitation of judging and inventing
comes more slow. The greater number of Readers, because they have
found one self-same kind of gowne, suppose most falsely to holde one
like bodie. Outward garments and cloakes may be borrowed, but never
the sinews and strength of the bodie. Most of those that converse
with me, speake like unto these Essayes; but I know not whether they
think alike. The Athenians (as Plato averreth) have for their part
great care to be fluent and eloquent in their speech; The
Lacedemonians endevour to be short and compendious; and those of
Creet labour more to bee plentifull in conceits than in language.
And these are the best. Zeno was wont to say, "That he had two sorts
of disciples; the one he called [Greek word omitted], curious to
learne things, and those were his darlings, the other he termed
[Greek word omitted], who respected nothing more than the language. "
Yet can no man say, but that to speake well, is most gracious and
commendable, but not so excellent as some make it: and I am grieved
to see how we imploy most part of our time about that onely. I would
first know mine owne tongue perfectly, then my neighbours with whom
I have most commerce. I must needs acknowledge, that the Greeke and
Latine tongues are great ornaments in a gentleman, but they are
purchased at over-high a rate. Use it who list, I will tell you how
they may be gotten better, cheaper, and much sooner than is
ordinarily used, which was tried in myselfe. My late father, having,
by all the meanes and industrie that is possible for a man, sought
amongst the wisest, and men of best understanding, to find a most
exquisite and readie way of teaching, being advised of the
inconveniences then in use; was given to understand that the
lingring while, and best part of our youth, that we imploy in
learning the tongues, which cost them nothing, is the onely cause we
can never attaine to that absolute perfection of skill and knowledge
of the Greekes and Romanes. I doe not beleeve that to be the onely
cause. But so it is, the expedient my father found out was this;
that being yet at nurse, and before the first loosing of my tongue,
I was delivered to a Germane (who died since, a most excellent
Physitian in France) he being then altogether ignorant of the French
tongue, but exquisitely readie and skilfull in the Latine. This man,
whom my father had sent for of purpose, and to whom he gave verie
great entertainment, had me continually in his armes, and was mine
onely overseer. There were also joyned unto him two of his
countrimen, but not so learned; whose charge was to attend, and now
and then to play with me; and all these together did never
entertaine me with other than the Latine tongue. As for others of
his household, it was an inviolable rule, that neither himselfe, nor
my mother, nor man, nor maid-servant, were suffered to speake one
word in my companie, except such Latine words as every one had
learned to chat and prattle with me. It were strange to tell how
every one in the house profited therein. My Father and my Mother
learned so much Latine, that for a need they could understand it,
when they heard it spoken, even so did all the household servants,
namely such as were neerest and most about me. To be short, we were
all so Latinized, that the townes round about us had their share of
it; insomuch as even at this day, many Latine names both of workmen
and of their tooles are yet in use amongst them. And as for myselfe,
I was about six years old, and could understand no more French or
Perigordine than Arabike; and that without art, without bookes,
rules, or grammer, without whipping or whining, I had gotten as pure
a Latin tongue as my Master could speake; the rather because I could
neither mingle or confound the same with other tongues. If for an
Essay they would give me a Theme, whereas the fashion in Colleges
is, to give it in French, I had it in bad Latine, to reduce the same
into good. And Nicholas Grouchy, who hath written De comitiis
Romanorum, William Guerente, who hath commented Aristotele: George
Buchanan, that famous Scottish Poet, and Marke Antonie Muret, whom
(while he lived) both France and Italie to this day, acknowledge to
have been the best orator: all which have beene my familiar tutors,
have often told me, that in mine infancie I had the Latine tongue so
readie and so perfect, that themselves feared to take me in hand.
And Buchanan, who afterward I saw attending on the Marshall of
Brissacke, told me, he was about to write a treatise of the
institution of children, and that he tooke the model and patterne
from mine: for at that time he had the charge and bringing up of the
young Earle of Brissack, whom since we have scene prove so worthy
and so valiant a Captaine. As for the Greeke, wherein I have but
small understanding, my father purposed to make me learne it by art;
But by new and uncustomed meanes, that is, by way of recreation and
exercise. We did tosse our declinations and conjugations to and fro,
as they doe, who by way of a certaine game at tables learne both
Arithmetike and Geometrie. For, amongst other things he had
especially beene persuaded to make me taste and apprehend the fruits
of dutie and science by an unforced kinde of will, and of mine owne
choice; and without any compulsion or rigor to bring me up in all
mildnesse and libertie: yea with such kinde of superstition, that,
whereas some are of opinion that suddenly to awaken young children,
and as it were by violence to startle and fright them out of their
dead sleepe in a morning (wherein they are more heavie and deeper
plunged than we) doth greatly trouble and distemper their braines,
he would every morning cause me to be awakened by the sound of some
instrument; and I was never without a servant who to that purpose
attended upon me. This example may serve to judge of the rest; as
also to commend the judgement and tender affection of so carefull
and loving a father: who is not to be blamed, though hee reaped not
the fruits answerable to his exquisite toyle and painefull manuring.
[Footnote: Cultivation. ] Two things hindered the same; first the
barrennesse and unfit soyle: for howbeit I were of a sound and
strong constitution, and of a tractable and yeelding condition, yet
was I so heavie, so sluggish, and so dull, that I could not be
rouzed (yea were it to goe to play) from out mine idle drowzinesse.
What I saw, I saw it perfectly; and under this heavy, and as it were
Lethe-complexion did I breed hardie imaginations, and opinions farre
above my yeares. My spirit was very slow, and would goe no further
than it was led by others; my apprehension blockish, my invention
poore; and besides, I had a marvelous defect in my weake memorie: it
is therefore no wonder, if my father could never bring me to any
perfection. Secondly, as those that in some dangerous sicknesse,
moved with a kind of hope-full and greedie desire of perfect health
againe, give eare to every Leach or Emperike, [Footnote: Doctor or
quack. ] and follow all counsels, the good man being exceedingly
fearefull to commit any oversight, in a matter he tooke so to heart,
suffered himselfe at last to be led away by the common opinion,
which like unto the Cranes, followeth ever those that go before, and
yeelded to customer having those no longer about him, that had given
him his first directions, and which they had brought out of Italie.
Being but six yeares old I was sent to the College of Guienne, then
most flourishing and reputed the best in France, where it is
impossible to adde any thing to the great care he had, both to chuse
the best and most sufficient masters that could be found, to reade
unto me, as also for all other circumstances partaining to my
education; wherein contrary to usuall customes of Colleges, he
observed many particular rules. But so it is, it was ever a College.
My Latin tongue was forthwith corrupted, whereof by reason of
discontinuance, I afterward lost all manner of use: which new kind
of institution stood me in no other stead, but that at my first
admittance it made me to overskip some of the lower formes, and to
be placed in the highest. For at thirteene yeares of age, that I
left the College, I had read over the whole course of Philosophie
(as they call it) but with so small profit, that I can now make no
account of it. The first taste or feeling I had of bookes, was of
the pleasure I tooke in reading the fables of Ovids Metamorphosies;
for, being but seven or eight yeares old, I would steale and
sequester my selfe from all other delights, only to reade them:
Forsomuch as the tongue wherein they were written was to me
naturall; and it was the easiest booke I knew, and by reason of the
matter therein contained most agreeing with my young age. For of
King Arthur, of Lancelot du Lake, of Amadis, of Huon of Burdeaux,
and such idle time consuming and wit-besotting trash of bookes
wherein youth doth commonly ammuse it selfe, I was not so much as
acquainted with their names, and to this day know not their bodies,
nor what they containe: So exact was my discipline. Whereby I became
more carelesse to studie my other prescript lessons. And well did it
fall out for my purpose, that I had to deale with a very discreet
Master, who out of his judgement could with such dexterite winke at
and second my untowardlinesse, and such other faults that were in
me. For by that meanes I read over Virgils AEneados, Terence,
Plautus, and other Italian Comedies, allured thereunto by the
pleasantnesse of their severall subjects: Had he beene so foolishly-
severe, or so severely froward as to crosse this course of mine, I
thinke verily I had never brought any thing from the College, but
the hate and contempt of Bookes, as doth the greatest part of our
Nobilitie. Such was his discretion, and so warily did he behave
himselfe, that he saw and would not see: hee would foster and
increase my longing: suffering me but by stealth and by snatches to
glut my selfe with those Bookes, holding ever a gentle hand over me,
concerning other regular studies. For, the chiefest thing my father
required at their hands (unto whose charge he had committed me) was
a kinde of well conditioned mildnesse and facilitie of complexion.
[Footnote: Easiness of disposition. ] And, to say truth, mine had no
other fault, but a certaine dull languishing and heavie
slothfullnesse. The danger was not, I should doe ill, but that I
should doe nothing.

No man did ever suspect I would prove a bad, but an unprofitable
man: foreseeing in me rather a kind of idlenesse than a voluntary
craftinesse. I am not so selfe-conceited but I perceive what hath
followed. The complaints that are daily buzzed in mine eares are
these; that I am idle, cold, and negligent in offices of friendship,
and dutie to my parents and kinsfolkes; and touching publike
offices, that I am over singular and disdainfull. And those that are
most injurious cannot aske, wherefore I have taken, and why I have
not paied? but may rather demand, why I doe not quit, and wherefore
I doe not give? I would take it as a favour, they should wish such
effects of supererogation in me. But they are unjust and over
partiall, that will goe about to exact that from me which I owe not,
with more vigour than they will exact from themselves that which
they owe; wherein if they condemne me, they utterly cancell both the
gratifying of the action, and the gratitude, which thereby would be
due to me. Whereas the active well doing should be of more
consequence, proceeding from my hand, in regard I have no passive at
all. Wherefore I may so much the more freely dispose of my fortune,
by how much more it is mine, and of my selfe that am most mine owne.
Notwithstanding, if I were a great blazoner of mine owne actions, I
might peradventure barre such reproches, and justly upraid some,
that they are not so much offended, because I doe not enough, as for
that I may, and it lies in my power to doe much more than I doe. Yet
my minde ceased not at the same time to have peculiar unto it selfe
well setled motions, true and open judgements concerning the objects
which it knew; which alone, and without any helpe or communication
it would digest. And amongst other things, I verily beleeve it would
have proved altogether incapable and unfit to yeeld unto force, or
stoope unto violence. Shall I account or relate this qualitie of my
infancie, which was, a kinde of boldnesse in my lookes, and gentle
softnesse in my voice, and affabilitie in my gestures, and a
dexterite in conforming my selfe to the parts I undertooke? for
before the age of the

Alter ab undecimo turn me vix ceperat annus.
[Footnote: Virg. Buc. Ecl. viii. 39. ]

Yeares had I (to make even)
Scarce two above eleven.

I have under-gone and represented the chiefest part in the Latin
Tragedies of Buchanan, Guerente, and of Muret; which in great state
were acted and plaid in our College of Guienne: wherein Andreas
Goveanus our Rector principall; who as in all other parts belonging
to his charge, was without comparison the chiefest Rector of France,
and my selfe (without ostentation be it spoken) was reputed, if not
a chiefe-master, yet a principall Actor in them. It is an exercise I
rather commend than disalow in young Gentlemen: and have seene some
of our Princes (in imitation of some of former ages) both
commendably and honestly, in their proper persons act and play some
parts in Tragedies. It hath heretofore been esteemed a lawfull
exercise, and a tolerable profession in men of honor, namely in
Greece. Aristoni tragico actori rem aperit: huic et genus et fortuna
honesta erant: nec ars, quia nihil tale apud Graecos pudori est, ea
deformabat. [Footnote: Liv. Deo. iii. 1. iv. ] "He imparts the matter
to Ariston a Player of tragedies, whose progenie and fortune were
both honest; nor did his profession disgrace them, because no such
matter is a disparagement amongst the Grecians. "

And I have ever accused them of impertinencie, that condemne and
disalow such kindes of recreations, and blame those of injustice,
that refuse good and honest Comedians, or (as we call them) Players,
to enter our good townes, and grudge the common people such publike
sports. Politike and wel ordered commonwealths endevour rather
carefully to unite and assemble their Citizens together; as in
serious offices of devotion, so in honest exercises of recreation.
Common societie and loving friendship is thereby cherished and
increased. And besides, they cannot have more formal and regular
pastimes allowed them, than such as are acted and represented in
open view of all, and in the presence of the magistrates themselves;
And if I might beare sway, I would thinke it reasonable, that
Princes should sometimes, at their proper charges, gratifie the
common people with them, as an argument of a fatherly affection, and
loving goodnesse towards them: and that in populous and frequented
cities, there should be Theatres and places appointed for such
spectacles; as a diverting of worse inconveniences, and secret
actions. But to come to my intended purpose there is no better way
to allure the affection, and to entice the appetite: otherwise a man
shall breed but asses laden with Bookes. With jerks of rods they
have their satchels full of learning given them to keepe. Which to
doe well, one must not only harbor in himselfe, but wed and marry
the same with his minde.




OF FRIENDSHIP

Considering the proceeding of a Painters worke I have, a desire hath
possessed mee to imitate him: He maketh choice of the most
convenient place and middle of everie wall, there to place a
picture, laboured with all his skill and sufficiencie; and all void
places about it he filleth up with antike Boscage [Footnote:
Foliated ornament] or Crotesko [Footnote: Grotesque] works; which
are fantasticall pictures, having no grace, but in the variety and
strangenesse of them. And what are these my compositions in truth,
other than antike workes, and monstrous bodies, patched and hudled
up together of divers members, without any certaine or well ordered
figure, having neither order, dependencie, or proportion, but
casuall and framed by chance?

Definit in piscem mulier formosa superne.
[Footnote: Hon. Art. Poet. 4. ]

A woman faire for parts superior,
Ends in a fish for parts inferior.

Touching this second point I goe as farre as my Painter, but for the
other and better part I am farre behinde: for my sufficiency
reacheth not so farre as that I dare undertake a rich, a polished,
and, according to true skill, an art-like table. I have advised
myselfe to borrow one of Steven de la Boetie, who with this kinde of
worke shall honour all the world. It is a discourse he entitled
Voluntary Servitude, but those who have not knowne him, have since
very properly rebaptized the same, The Against-one. In his first
youth he writ, by way of Essaie, in honour of libertie against
Tyrants. It hath long since beene dispersed amongst men of
understanding, not without great and well deserved commendations:
for it is full of wit, and containeth as much learning as may be:
yet doth it differ much from the best he can do. And if in the age I
knew him in, he would have undergone my dessigne to set his
fantasies downe in writing, we should doubtlesse see many rare
things, and which would very neerely approch the honour of
antiquity: for especially touching that part of natures gifts, I
know none may be compared to him. But it was not long of him, that
ever this Treatise came to mans view, and I beleeve he never saw it
since it first escaped his hands: with certaine other notes
concerning the edict of Januarie, famous by reason of our intestine
warre, which haply may in other places finde their deserved praise.
It is all I could ever recover of his reliques (whom when death
seized, he by his last will and testament, left with so kinde
remembrance, heire and executor of his librarie and writings)
besides the little booke, I since caused to be published: To which
his pamphlet I am particularly most bounden, for so much as it was
the instrumentall meane of our first acquaintance. For it was shewed
me long time before I saw him; and gave me the first knowledge of
his name, addressing, and thus nourishing that unspotted friendship
which we (so long as it pleased God) have so sincerely, so entire
and inviolably maintained betweene us, that truly a man shall not
commonly heare of the like; and amongst our moderne men no signe of
any such is scene. So many parts are required to the erecting of
such a one, that it may be counted a wonder if fortune once in three
ages contract the like. There is nothing to which Nature hath more
addressed us than to societie. And Aristotle saith that perfect Law-
givers have had more regardfull care of friendship than of justice.
And the utmost drift of its perfection is this. For generally, all
those amities which are forged and nourished by voluptuousnesse or
profit, publike or private need, are thereby so much the lesse faire
and generous, and so much the lesse true amities, in that they
intermeddle other causes, scope, and fruit with friendship, than it
selfe alone: Nor doe those foure ancient kindes of friendships,
Naturall, sociall, hospitable, and venerian, either particularly or
conjointly beseeme the same. That from children to parents may
rather be termed respect: Friendship is nourished by communication,
which by reason of the over-great disparitie cannot bee found in
them, and would happly offend the duties of nature: for neither all
the secret thoughts of parents can be communicated unto children,
lest it might engender an unbeseeming familiaritie betweene them,
nor the admonitions and corrections (which are the chiefest offices
of friendship) could be exercised from children to parents. There
have nations beene found, where, by custome, children killed their
parents, and others where parents slew their children, thereby to
avoid the hindrance of enterbearing [Footnote: Mutually supporting. ]
one another in after-times: for naturally one dependeth from the
ruine of another. There have Philosophers beene found disdaining
this naturall conjunction: witnesse Aristippus, who being urged with
the affection he ought [Footnote: Owed. ] his children, as proceeding
from his loyns, began to spit, saying, That also that excrement
proceeded from him, and that also we engendred wormes and lice. And
that other man, whom Plutarke would have perswaded to agree with his
brother, answered, "I care not a straw the more for him, though he
came out of the same wombe I did. " Verily the name of Brother is a
glorious name, and full of loving kindnesse, and therefore did he
and I terme one another sworne brother: but this commixture,
dividence, and sharing of goods, this joyning wealth to wealth, and
that the riches of one shall be the povertie of another, doth
exceedingly distemper and distract all brotherly alliance, and
lovely conjunction: If brothers should conduct the progresse of
their advancement and thrift in one same path and course, they must
necessarily oftentimes hinder and crosse one another. Moreover, the
correspondencie and relation that begetteth these true and mutually
perfect amities, why shall it be found in these? The father and the
sonne may very well be of a farre differing complexion, and so many
brothers: He is my sonne, he is my kinsman; but he may be a foole, a
bad, or a peevish-minded man. And then according as they are
friendships which the law and dutie of nature doth command us, so
much the lesse of our owne voluntarie choice and libertie is there
required unto it: And our genuine libertie hath no production more
properly her owne, than that of affection and amitie. Sure I am,
that concerning the same I have assaied all that might be, having
had the best and most indulgent father that ever was, even to his
extremest age, and who from father to sonne was descended of a
famous house, and touching this rare-seene vertue of brotherly
concord very exemplare:

----et ipse
Notus in fratres animi paterni.
[Footnote: Hor. 1. ii. Qd. li. 6. ]

To his brothers knowne so kinde.
As to beare a fathers minde.

To compare the affection toward women unto it, although it proceed
from our owne free choice, a man cannot, nor may it be placed in
this ranke: Her fire, I confesse it to be more

(---neque enim est dea nescia nostri
Quae dulcem curis miscet amaritiem. )
[Footnote: Catul. Epig. lxvi. ]

(Nor is that Goddesse ignorant of me,
Whose bitter-sweets with my cares mixed be. )

active, more fervent, and more sharpe. But it is a rash and wavering
fire, waving and divers: the fire of an ague subject to fits and
stints, and that hath but slender hold-fast of us. In true
friendship, it is a generall and universall heat, and equally
tempered, a constant and setled heat, all pleasure and smoothnes,
that hath no pricking or stinging in it, which the more it is in
lustfull love, the more is it but a raging and mad desire in
following that which flies us,

Come segue la lepre il cacciatore
Alfreddo, al caldo, alia montagna, a lito,
Ne pin l'estima poi che presa vede,
E sol dietro a chi fugge affretta il piede.
[Footnote: Ariost. can. x. st. 7. ]

Ev'n as the huntsman doth the hare pursue,
In cold, in heat, on mountaines, on the shore,
But cares no more, when he her ta'en espies
Speeding his pace only at that which flies.

As soone as it creepeth into the termes of friendship, that is to
say, in the agreement of wits, it languisheth and vanisheth away:
enjoying doth lose it, as having a corporall end, and subject to
satietie. On the other side, friendship is enjoyed according as it
is desired, it is neither bred, nourished, nor increaseth but in
jovissance, as being spirituall, and the minde being refined by use
custome. Under this chiefe amitie, these fading affections have
sometimes found place in me, lest I should speake of him, who in his
verses speakes but too much of it. So are these two passions entered
into me in knowledge one of another, but in comparison never: the
first flying a high, and keeping a proud pitch, disdainfully
beholding the other to passe her points farre under it. Concerning
marriage, besides that it is a covenant which hath nothing free but
the entrance, the continuance being forced and constrained,
depending else-where than from our will, and a match ordinarily
concluded to other ends: A thousand strange knots are therein
commonly to be unknit, able to break the web, and trouble the whole
course of a lively affection; whereas in friendship there is no
commerce or busines depending on the same, but it selfe. Seeing (to
speake truly) that the ordinary sufficiency of women cannot answer
this conference and communication, the nurse of this sacred bond:
nor seeme their mindes strong enough to endure the pulling of a knot
so hard, so fast, and durable. And truly, if without that, such a
genuine and voluntarie acquaintance might be contracted, where not
only mindes had this entire jovissance, [Footnote: Enjoyment. ] but
also bodies, a share of the alliance, and where a man might wholly
be engaged: It is certaine, that friendship would thereby be more
compleat and full: But this sex could never yet by any example
attaine unto it, and is by ancient schooles rejected thence. And
this other Greeke licence is justly abhorred by our customes, which
notwithstanding, because according to use it had so necessarie a
disparitie of ages, and difference of offices betweene lovers, did
no more sufficiently answer the perfect union and agreement, which
here we require: Quis est enim iste amor amicitiae? cur neque
deformem adolescentem quisquam amat, neque formosum senem?
[Footnote: Cic. Tusc. Qu. lv. c. 33. ] "For, what love is this of
friendship? why doth no man love either a deformed young man, or a
beautifull old man? " For even the picture the Academic makes of it,
will not (as I suppose) disavowe mee, to say thus in her behalfe:
That the first furie, enspired by the son of Venus in the lovers
hart, upon the object of tender youths-flower, to which they allow
all insolent and passionate violences, an immoderate heat may
produce, was simply grounded upon an externall beauty; a false image
of corporall generation: for in the spirit it had no power, the
sight whereof was yet concealed, which was but in his infancie, and
before the age of budding. For, if this furie did seize upon a base
minded courage, the meanes of its pursuit were riches, gifts, favour
to the advancement of dignities, and such like vile merchandice,
which they reprove. If it fell into a more generous minde, the
interpositions [Footnote: Means of approach. ] were likewise
generous: Philosophicall instructions, documents [Footnote:
Teachings. ] to reverence religion, to obey the lawes, to die for the
good of his countrie: examples of valor, wisdome and justice; the
lover endevoring and studying to make himselfe acceptable by the
good grace and beauty of his minde (that of his body being long
since decayed) hoping by this mentall society to establish a more
firme and permanent bargaine.