No More Learning

There was also another prophecy, before the year of '88, which
I do not well understand.


There shall be seen upon a day,
Between the Baugh and the May,
The black fleet of Norway.
When that that is come and gone,
England build houses of lime and stone,
For after wars shall you have none.


It was generally conceived to be meant, of the Spanish fleet that came
in '88: for that the king of Spain's surname, as they say, is Norway.
The prediction of Regiomontanus,


Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus,


was thought likewise accomplished in the sending of that great fleet,
being the greatest in strength, though not in number, of all that ever
swam upon the sea. As for Cleon's dream, I think it was a jest. It was,
that he was devoured of a long dragon; and it was expounded of a maker
of sausages, that troubled him exceedingly. There are numbers of
the like kind; especially if you include dreams, and predictions of
astrology. But I have set down these few only, of certain credit, for
example. My judgment is, that they ought all to be despised; and
ought to serve but for winter talk by the fireside. Though when I say
despised, I mean it as for belief; for otherwise, the spreading, or
publishing, of them, is in no sort to be despised. For they have done
much mischief; and I see many severe laws made, to suppress them. That
that hath given them grace, and some credit, consisteth in three things.
First, that men mark when they hit, and never mark when they miss;
as they do generally also of dreams. The second is, that probable
conjectures, or obscure traditions, many times turn themselves into
prophecies; while the nature of man, which coveteth divination, thinks
it no peril to foretell that which indeed they do but collect. As that
of Seneca's verse. For so much was then subject to demonstration, that
the globe of the earth had great parts beyond the Atlantic, which
mought be probably conceived not to be all sea: and adding thereto the
tradition in Plato's Timaeus, and his Atlanticus, it mought encourage
one to turn it to a prediction. The third and last (which is the great
one) is, that almost all of them, being infinite in number, have been
impostures, and by idle and crafty brains merely contrived and feigned,
after the event past.




Of Ambition


AMBITION is like choler; which is an humor that maketh men active,
earnest, full of alacrity, and stirring, if it be not stopped. But if
it be stopped, and cannot have his way, it becometh adust, and thereby
malign and venomous. So ambitious men, if they find the way open
for their rising, and still get forward, they are rather busy than
dangerous; but if they be checked in their desires, they become secretly
discontent, and look upon men and matters with an evil eye, and are
best pleased, when things go backward; which is the worst property in a
servant of a prince, or state. Therefore it is good for princes, if they
use ambitious men, to handle it, so as they be still progressive and
not retrograde; which, because it cannot be without inconvenience, it
is good not to use such natures at all. For if they rise not with their
service, they will take order, to make their service fall with them. But
since we have said, it were good not to use men of ambitious natures,
except it be upon necessity, it is fit we speak, in what cases they are
of necessity. Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be they never
so ambitious; for the use of their service, dispenseth with the rest;
and to take a soldier without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There
is also great use of ambitious men, in being screens to princes in
matters of danger and envy; for no man will take that part, except he be
like a seeled dove, that mounts and mounts, because he cannot see about
him. There is use also of ambitious men, in pulling down the greatness
of any subject that overtops; as Tiberius used Marco, in the pulling
down of Sejanus. Since, therefore, they must be used in such cases,
there resteth to speak, how they are to be bridled, that they may be
less dangerous. There is less danger of them, if they be of mean birth,
than if they be noble; and if they be rather harsh of nature, than
gracious and popular: and if they be rather new raised, than grown
cunning, and fortified, in their greatness. It is counted by some, a
weakness in princes, to have favorites; but it is, of all others,
the best remedy against ambitious great-ones. For when the way of
pleasuring, and displeasuring, lieth by the favorite, it is impossible
any other should be overgreat. Another means to curb them, is to balance
them by others, as proud as they. But then there must be some middle
counsellors, to keep things steady; for without that ballast, the ship
will roll too much. At the least, a prince may animate and inure some
meaner persons, to be as it were scourges, to ambitious men. As for the
having of them obnoxious to ruin; if they be of fearful natures, it
may do well; but if they be stout and daring, it may precipitate their
designs, and prove dangerous. As for the pulling of them down, if the
affairs require it, and that it may not be done with safety suddenly,
the only way is the interchange, continually, of favors and disgraces;
whereby they may not know what to expect, and be, as it were, in a
wood. Of ambitions, it is less harmful, the ambition to prevail in
great things, than that other, to appear in every thing; for that breeds
confusion, and mars business. But yet it is less danger, to have an
ambitious man stirring in business, than great in dependences. He that
seeketh to be eminent amongst able men, hath a great task; but that
is ever good for the public. But he, that plots to be the only figure
amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age. Honor hath three things in
it: the vantage ground to do good; the approach to kings and principal
persons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes. He that hath the
best of these intentions, when he aspireth, is an honest man; and that
prince, that can discern of these intentions in another that aspireth,
is a wise prince. Generally, let princes and states choose such
ministers, as are more sensible of duty than of using; and such as love
business rather upon conscience, than upon bravery, and let them discern
a busy nature, from a willing mind.




Of Masques And Triumphs


THESE things are but toys, to come amongst such serious observations.
But yet, since princes will have such things, it is better they should
be graced with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to song, is a
thing of great state and pleasure. I understand it, that the song be
in quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some broken music; and the
ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially in dialogues,
hath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not dancing (for that is a
mean and vulgar thing); and the voices of the dialogue would be strong
and manly (a base and a tenor; no treble); and the ditty high and
tragical; not nice or dainty. Several quires, placed one over against
another, and taking the voice by catches, anthem-wise, give great
pleasure. Turning dances into figure, is a childish curiosity. And
generally let it be noted, that those things which I here set down, are
such as do naturally take the sense, and not respect petty wonderments.
It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be quietly and without
noise, are things of great beauty and pleasure; for they feed and
relieve the eye, before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes
abound with light, specially colored and varied; and let the masquers,
or any other, that are to come down from the scene, have some motions
upon the scene itself, before their coming down; for it draws the eye
strangely, and makes it, with great pleasure, to desire to see, that it
cannot perfectly discern. Let the songs be loud and cheerful, and not
chirpings or pulings. Let the music likewise be sharp and loud, and well
placed. The colors that show best by candle-light are white, carnation,
and a kind of sea-water-green; and oes, or spangs, as they are of no
great cost, so they are of most glory. As for rich embroidery, it is
lost and not discerned. Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and
such as become the person, when the vizors are off; not after examples
of known attires; Turke, soldiers, mariners', and the like. Let
anti-masques not be long; they have been commonly of fools, satyrs,
baboons, wild-men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, Ethiops, pigmies,
turquets, nymphs, rustics, Cupids, statuas moving, and the like. As
for angels, it is not comical enough, to put them in anti-masques; and
anything that is hideous, as devils, giants, is on the other side as
unfit. But chiefly, let the music of them be recreative, and with some
strange changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, without any
drops falling, are, in such a company as there is steam and heat, things
of great pleasure and refreshment. Double masques, one of men, another
of ladies, addeth state and variety. But all is nothing except the room
be kept clear and neat.

For justs, and tourneys, and barriers; the glories of them are chiefly
in the chariots, wherein the challengers make their entry; especially
if they be drawn with strange beasts: as lions, bears, camels, and the
like; or in the devices of their entrance; or in the bravery of their
liveries; or in the goodly furniture of their horses and armor. But
enough of these toys.




Of Nature In Men


NATURE is often hidden; sometimes overcome; seldom extinguished. Force,
maketh nature more violent in the return; doctrine and discourse, maketh
nature less importune; but custom only doth alter and subdue nature. He
that seeketh victory over his nature, let him not set himself too great,
nor too small tasks; for the first will make him dejected by often
failings; and the second will make him a small proceeder, though by
often prevailings. And at the first let him practise with helps, as
swimmers do with bladders or rushes; but after a time let him practise
with disadvantages, as dancers do with thick shoes. For it breeds great
perfection, if the practice be harder than the use. Where nature is
mighty, and therefore the victory hard, the degrees had need be, first
to stay and arrest nature in time; like to him that would say over the
four and twenty letters when he was angry; then to go less in quantity;
as if one should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking healths, to a
draught at a meal; and lastly, to discontinue altogether. But if a man
have the fortitude, and resolution, to enfranchise himself at once, that
is the best:


Optimus ille animi vindex laedentia pectus
Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel.


Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature, as a wand, to a
contrary extreme, whereby to set it right, understanding it, where the
contrary extreme is no vice. Let not a man force a habit upon himself,
with a perpetual continuance, but with some intermission. For both the
pause reinforceth the new onset; and if a man that is not perfect,
be ever in practice, he shall as well practise his errors, as his
abilities, and induce one habit of both; and there is no means to help
this, but by seasonable intermissions. But let not a man trust his
victory over his nature, too far; for nature will lay buried a great
time, and yet revive, upon the occasion or temptation. Like as it was
with AEsop's damsel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely
at the board's end, till a mouse ran before her. Therefore, let a man
either avoid the occasion altogether; or put himself often to it, that
he may be little moved with it. A man's nature is best perceived in
privateness, for there is no affectation; in passion, for that putteth
a man out of his precepts; and in a new case or experiment, for there
custom leaveth him. They are happy men, whose natures sort with their
vocations; otherwise they may say, multum incola fuit anima mea;
when they converse in those things, they do not affect. In studies,
whatsoever a man commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it; but
whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him take no care for any set
times; for his thoughts will fly to it, of themselves; so as the spaces
of other business, or studies, will suffice. A man's nature, runs either
to herbs or weeds; therefore let him seasonably water the one, and
destroy the other.




Of Custom And Education


MEN'S thoughts, are much according to their inclination; their discourse
and speeches, according to their learning and infused opinions; but
their deeds, are after as they have been accustomed. And therefore, as
Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil-favored instance), there is no
trusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it
be corroborate by custom. His instance is, that for the achieving of a
desperate conspiracy, a man should not rest upon the fierceness of any
man's nature, or his resolute undertakings; but take such an one, as
hath had his hands formerly in blood. But Machiavel knew not of a Friar
Clement, nor a Ravillac, nor a Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard; yet his
rule holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of words, are not so
forcible, as custom. Only superstition is now so well advanced, that men
of the first blood, are as firm as butchers by occupation; and votary
resolution, is made equipollent to custom, even in matter of blood. In
other things, the predominancy of custom is everywhere visible; insomuch
as a man would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, engage, give great
words, and then do, just as they have done before; as if they were dead
images, and engines moved only by the wheels of custom. We see also the
reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. The Indians (I mean the sect
of their wise men) lay themselves quietly upon a stock of wood, and so
sacrifice themselves by fire. Nay, the wives strive to be burned, with
the corpses of their husbands. The lads of Sparta, of ancient time,
were wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much as
queching. I remember, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's time of
England, an Irish rebel condemned, put up a petition to the deputy, that
he might be hanged in a withe, and not in an halter; because it had been
so used, with former rebels. There be monks in Russia, for penance, that
will sit a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be engaged with
hard ice. Many examples may be put of the force of custom, both upon
mind and body. Therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate
of man's life, let men by all means endeavor, to obtain good customs.
Certainly custom is most perfect, when it beginneth in young years: this
we call education; which is, in effect, but an early custom. So we see,
in languages, the tongue is more pliant to all expressions and sounds,
the joints are more supple, to all feats of activity and motions, in
youth than afterwards. For it is true, that late learners cannot so
well take the ply; except it be in some minds, that have not suffered
themselves to fix, but have kept themselves open, and prepared to
receive continual amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the force
of custom simple and separate, be great, the force of custom copulate
and conjoined and collegiate, is far greater. For there example
teacheth, company comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth: so as
in such places the force of custom is in his exaltation. Certainly
the great multiplication of virtues upon human nature, resteth upon
societies well ordained and disciplined. For commonwealths, and good
governments, do nourish virtue grown but do not much mend the deeds.
But the misery is, that the most effectual means, are now applied to the
ends, least to be desired.




Of Fortune


IT CANNOT be denied, but outward accidents conduce much to fortune;
favor, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue. But
chiefly, the mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands. Faber quisque
fortunae suae, saith the poet. And the most frequent of external causes
is, that the folly of one man, is the fortune of another. For no man
prospers so suddenly, as by others' errors. Serpens nisi serpentem
comederit non fit draco. Overt and apparent virtues, bring forth praise;
but there be secret and hidden virtues, that bring forth fortune;
certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no name. The Spanish
name, desemboltura, partly expresseth them; when there be not stonds nor
restiveness in a man's nature; but that the wheels of his mind, keep way
with the wheels of his fortune. For so Livy (after he had described Cato
Major in these words, In illo viro tantum robur corporis et animi fuit,
ut quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur) falleth
upon that, that he had versatile ingenium. Therefore if a man look
sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune: for though she be blind,
yet she is not invisible. The way of fortune, is like the Milken Way in
the sky; which is a meeting or knot of a number of small stars; not seen
asunder, but giving light together. So are there a number of little, and
scarce discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, that make men
fortunate. The Italians note some of them, such as a man would little
think. When they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will throw in,
into his other conditions, that he hath Poco di matto. And certainly
there be not two more fortunate properties, than to have a little of the
fool, and not too much of the honest. Therefore extreme lovers of their
country or masters, were never fortunate, neither can they be. For when
a man placeth his thoughts without himself, he goeth not his own way.
An hasty fortune maketh an enterpriser and remover (the French hath it
better, entreprenant, or remuant); but the exercised fortune maketh the
able man. Fortune is to be honored and respected, and it be but for her
daughters, Confidence and Reputation. For those two, Felicity breedeth;
the first within a man's self, the latter in others towards him. All
wise men, to decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe them
to Providence and Fortune; for so they may the better assume them: and,
besides, it is greatness in a man, to be the care of the higher powers.
So Caesar said to the pilot in the tempest, Caesarem portas, et fortunam
ejus. So Sylla chose the name of Felix, and not of Magnus. And it hath
been noted, that those who ascribe openly too much to their own wisdom
and policy, end infortunate. It is written that Timotheus the Athenian,
after he had, in the account he gave to the state of his government,
often interlaced this speech, and in this, Fortune had no part, never
prospered in anything, he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be,
whose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have a slide and easiness
more than the verses of other poets; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's
fortune, in respect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas. And that this
should be, no doubt it is much, in a man's self.




Of Usury


MANY have made witty invectives against usury. They say that it is a
pity, the devil should have God's part, which is the tithe. That the
usurer is the greatest Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every
Sunday. That the usurer is the drone, that Virgil speaketh of;


Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent.

That the usurer breaketh the first law, that was made for mankind after
the fall, which was, in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum; not, in
sudore vultus alieni. That usurers should have orange-tawny bonnets,
because they do judaize. That it is against nature for money to beget
money; and the like. I say this only, that usury is a concessum propter
duritiem cordis; for since there must be borrowing and lending, and
men are so hard of heart, as they will not lend freely, usury must be
permitted. Some others, have made suspicious and cunning propositions
of banks, discovery of men's estates, and other inventions. But few have
spoken of usury usefully. It is good to set before us, the incommodities
and commodities of usury, that the good, may be either weighed out or
culled out; and warily to provide, that while we make forth to that
which is better, we meet not with that which is worse.

The discommodities of usury are, First, that it makes fewer merchants.
For were it not for this lazy trade of usury, money would not be still,
but would in great part be employed upon merchandizing; which is
the vena porta of wealth in a state. The second, that it makes poor
merchants. For, as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well, if he sit
at a great rent; so the merchant cannot drive his trade so well, if he
sit at great usury. The third is incident to the other two; and that
is the decay of customs of kings or states, which ebb or flow, with
merchandizing. The fourth, that it bringeth the treasure of a realm, or
state, into a few hands. For the usurer being at certainties, and others
at uncertainties, at the end of the game, most of the money will be
in the box; and ever a state flourisheth, when wealth is more equally
spread. The fifth, that it beats down the price of land; for the
employment of money, is chiefly either merchandizing or purchasing;
and usury waylays both. The sixth, that it doth dull and damp all
industries, improvements, and new inventions, wherein money would be
stirring, if it were not for this slug. The last, that it is the canker
and ruin of many men's estates; which, in process of time, breeds a
public poverty.

On the other side, the commodities of usury are, first, that howsoever
usury in some respect hindereth merchandizing, yet in some other it
advanceth it; for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is
driven by young merchants, upon borrowing at interest; so as if the
usurer either call in, or keep back, his money, there will ensue,
presently, a great stand of trade. The second is, that were it not for
this easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities would draw upon
them a most sudden undoing; in that they would be forced to sell their
means (be it lands or goods) far under foot; and so, whereas usury doth
but gnaw upon them, bad markets would swallow them quite up. As for
mortgaging or pawning, it will little mend the matter: for either men
will not take pawns without use; or if they do, they will look precisely
for the forfeiture. I remember a cruel moneyed man in the country, that
would say, The devil take this usury, it keeps us from forfeitures,
of mortgages and bonds. The third and last is, that it is a vanity to
conceive, that there would be ordinary borrowing without profit; and it
is impossible to conceive, the number of inconveniences that will ensue,
if borrowing be cramped. Therefore to speak of the abolishing of usury
is idle. All states have ever had it, in one kind or rate, or other. So
as that opinion must be sent to Utopia.

To speak now of the reformation, and reiglement, of usury; how the
discommodities of it may be best avoided, and the commodities retained.
It appears, by the balance of commodities and discommodities of usury,
two things are to be reconciled. The one, that the tooth of usury be
grinded, that it bite not too much; the other, that there be left open
a means, to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, for the
continuing and quickening of trade. This cannot be done, except you
introduce two several sorts of usury, a less and a greater. For if you
reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the common borrower, but
the merchant will be to seek for money. And it is to be noted, that the
trade of merchandize, being the most lucrative, may bear usury at a good
rate; other contracts not so.

To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly thus. That there be
two rates of usury: the one free, and general for all; the other
under license only, to certain persons, and in certain places of
merchandizing. First, therefore, let usury in general, be reduced to
five in the hundred; and let that rate be proclaimed, to be free and
current; and let the state shut itself out, to take any penalty for the
same. This will preserve borrowing, from any general stop or dryness.
This will ease infinite borrowers in the country. This will, in good
part, raise the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen years'
purchase will yield six in the hundred, and somewhat more; whereas this
rate of interest, yields but five. This by like reason will encourage,
and edge, industrious and profitable improvements; because many will
rather venture in that kind, than take five in the hundred, especially
having been used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be certain
persons licensed, to lend to known merchants, upon usury at a higher
rate; and let it be with the cautions following. Let the rate be, even
with the merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he used formerly
to pay; for by that means, all borrowers, shall have some ease by this
reformation, be he merchant, or whosoever. Let it be no bank or common
stock, but every man be master of his own money. Not that I altogether
mislike banks, but they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain
suspicions. Let the state be answered some small matter for the license,
and the rest left to the lender; for if the abatement be but small,
it will no whit discourage the lender. For he, for example, that took
before ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend to eight in the
hundred than give over his trade of usury, and go from certain gains, to
gains of hazard. Let these licensed lenders be in number indefinite, but
restrained to certain principal cities and towns of merchandizing;
for then they will be hardly able to color other men's moneys in the
country: so as the license of nine will not suck away the current rate
of five; for no man will send his moneys far off, nor put them into
unknown hands.

If it be objected that this doth in a sort authorize usury, which
before, was in some places but permissive; the answer is, that it is
better to mitigate usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by
connivance.




Of Youth And Age


A MAN that is young in years, may be old in hours, if he have lost no
time. But that happeneth rarely. Generally, youth is like the first
cogitations, not so wise as the second. For there is a youth in
thoughts, as well as in ages. And yet the invention of young men, is
more lively than that of old; and imaginations stream into their minds
better, and, as it were, more divinely. Natures that have much heat, and
great and violent desires and perturbations, are not ripe for action,
till they have passed the meridian of their years; as it was with
Julius Caesar and Septimius Severus. Of the latter, of whom it is said,
Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus, plenam. And yet he was the
ablest emperor, almost, of all the list. But reposed natures may do well
in youth. As it is seen in Augustus Caesar, Cosmus Duke of Florence,
Gaston de Foix, and others. On the other side, heat and vivacity in
age, is an excellent composition for business. Young men are fitter
to invent, than to judge; fitter for execution, than for counsel; and
fitter for new projects, than for settled business. For the experience
of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, directeth them;
but in new things, abuseth them.

The errors of young men, are the ruin of business; but the errors of
aged men, amount but to this, that more might have been done, or sooner.
Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than
they can hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without
consideration of the means and degrees; pursue some few principles,
which they have chanced upon absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws
unknown inconveniences; use extreme remedies at first; and, that which
doubleth all errors, will not acknowledge or retract them; like an
unready horse, that will neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too
much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and
seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves
with a mediocrity of success. Certainly it is good to compound
employments of both; for that will be good for the present, because the
virtues of either age, may correct the defects of both; and good for
succession, that young men may be learners, while men in age are actors;
and, lastly, good for extern accidents, because authority followeth old
men, and favor and popularity, youth. But for the moral part, perhaps
youth will have the pre-eminence, as age hath for the politic.
A certain
rabbin, upon the text, Your young men shall see visions, and your old
men shall dream dreams, inferreth that young men, are admitted nearer to
God than old, because vision, is a clearer revelation, than a dream.
And certainly, the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it
intoxicateth; and age doth profit rather in the powers of understanding,
than in the virtues of the will and affections. There be some, have an
over-early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes. These are,
first, such as have brittle wits, the edge whereof is soon turned; such
as was Hermogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceeding subtle;
who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort, is of those that have some
natural dispositions which have better grace in youth, than in age; such
as is a fluent and luxuriant speech; which becomes youth well, but not
age: so Tully saith of Hortensius, Idem manebat, neque idem decebat.
The third is of such, as take too high a strain at the first, and
are magnanimous, more than tract of years can uphold. As was Scipio
Africanus, of whom Livy saith in effect, Ultima primis cedebant.




Of Beauty


VIRTUE is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best,
in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that hath
rather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect. Neither is it almost
seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great virtue; as
if nature were rather busy, not to err, than in labor to produce
excellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great
spirit; and study rather behavior, than virtue. But this holds not
always: for Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Belle of
France, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael
the Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits; and yet the most
beautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favor, is more than
that of color; and that of decent and gracious motion, more than that of
favor. That is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot express;
no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty, that
hath not some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether
Apelles, or Albert Durer, were the more trifler; whereof the one, would
make a personage by geometrical proportions; the other, by taking the
best parts out of divers faces, to make one excellent. Such personages,
I think, would please nobody, but the painter that made them. Not but I
think a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do
it by a kind of felicity (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in
music), and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that if you examine them
part by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well.
If it be true that the principal part of beauty is in decent motion,
certainly it is no marvel, though persons in years seem many times more
amiable; pulchrorum autumnus pulcher; for no youth can be comely but by
pardon, and considering the youth, as to make up the comeliness. Beauty
is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last; and
for the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of
countenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue
shine, and vices blush.




Of Deformity


DEFORMED persons are commonly even with nature; for as nature hath
done ill by them, so do they by nature; being for the most part (as
the Scripture saith) void of natural affection; and so they have their
revenge of nature. Certainly there is a consent, between the body and
the mind; and where nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the
other. Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero. But because there is,
in man, an election touching the frame of his mind, and a necessity in
the frame of his body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes
obscured, by the sun of discipline and virtue. Therefore it is good to
consider of deformity, not as a sign, which is more deceivable; but as a
cause, which seldom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath anything fixed
in his person, that doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur
in himself, to rescue and deliver himself from scorn. Therefore all
deformed persons, are extreme bold. First, as in their own defence, as
being exposed to scorn; but in process of time, by a general habit. Also
it stirreth in them industry, and especially of this kind, to watch and
observe the weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to repay.
Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as
persons that they think they may, at pleasure, despise: and it layeth
their competitors and emulators asleep; as never believing they should
be in possibility of advancement, till they see them in possession.
So that upon the matter, in a great wit, deformity is an advantage to
rising. Kings in ancient times (and at this present in some countries)
were wont to put great trust in eunuchs; because they that are envious
towards all are more obnoxious and officious, towards one. But yet
their trust towards them, hath rather been as to good spials, and good
whisperers, than good magistrates and officers. And much like is the
reason of deformed persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be
of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn; which must be either by
virtue or malice; and therefore let it not be marvelled, if sometimes
they prove excellent persons; as was Agesilaus, Zanger the son of
Solyman, AEsop, Gasca, President of Peru; and Socrates may go likewise
amongst them; with others.




Of Building


HOUSES are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use be
preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had. Leave the
goodly fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted palaces of
the poets; who build them with small cost. He that builds a fair house,
upon an ill seat, committeth himself to prison. Neither do I reckon it
an ill seat, only where the air is unwholesome; but likewise where the
air is unequal; as you shall see many fine seats set upon a knap of
ground, environed with higher hills round about it; whereby the heat
of the sun is pent in, and the wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you
shall have, and that suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if
you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air only that maketh
an ill seat, but ill ways, ill markets; and, if you will consult with
Momus, ill neighbors. I speak not of many more; want of water; want of
wood, shade, and shelter; want of fruitfulness, and mixture of grounds
of several natures; want of prospect; want of level grounds; want of
places at some near distance for sports of hunting, hawking, and races;
too near the sea, too remote; having the commodity of navigable rivers,
or the discommodity of their overflowing; too far off from great
cities, which may hinder business, or too near them, which lurcheth all
provisions, and maketh everything dear; where a man hath a great living
laid together, and where he is scanted: all which, as it is impossible
perhaps to find together, so it is good to know them, and think of them,
that a man may take as many as he can; and if he have several dwellings,
that he sort them so that what he wanteth in the one, he may find in
the other. Lucullus answered Pompey well; who, when he saw his stately
galleries, and rooms so large and lightsome, in one of his houses, said,
Surely an excellent place for summer, but how do you in winter? Lucullus
answered, Why, do you not think me as wise as some fowl are, that ever
change their abode towards the winter?

To pass from the seat, to the house itself; we will do as Cicero doth
in the orator's art; who writes books De Oratore, and a book he entitles
Orator; whereof the former, delivers the precepts of the art, and the
latter, the perfection. We will therefore describe a princely palace,
making a brief model thereof. For it is strange to see, now in Europe,
such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial and some others be, and
yet scarce a very fair room in them.

First, therefore, I say you cannot have a perfect palace except you have
two several sides; a side for the banquet, as it is spoken of in the
book of Hester, and a side for the household; the one for feasts and
triumphs, and the other for dwelling. I understand both these sides to
be not only returns, but parts of the front; and to be uniform without,
though severally partitioned within; and to be on both sides of a great
and stately tower, in the midst of the front, that, as it were, joineth
them together on either hand. I would have on the side of the banquet,
in front, one only goodly room above stairs, of some forty foot high;
and under it a room for a dressing, or preparing place, at times of
triumphs. On the other side, which is the household side, I wish
it divided at the first, into a hall and a chapel (with a partition
between); both of good state and bigness; and those not to go all the
length, but to have at the further end, a winter and a summer parlor,
both fair. And under these rooms, a fair and large cellar, sunk under
ground; and likewise some privy kitchens, with butteries and pantries,
and the like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, of eighteen
foot high apiece, above the two wings; and a goodly leads upon the
top, railed with statuas interposed; and the same tower to be divided
into rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise to the upper
rooms, let them be upon a fair open newel, and finely railed in, with
images of wood, cast into a brass color; and a very fair landing-place
at the top. But this to be, if you do not point any of the lower rooms,
for a dining place of servants. For otherwise, you shall have the
servants' dinner after your own: for the steam of it, will come up as in
a tunnel. And so much for the front. Only I understand the height of the
first stairs to be sixteen foot, which is the height of the lower room.

Beyond this front, is there to be a fair court, but three sides of it,
of a far lower building than the front. And in all the four corners of
that court, fair staircases, cast into turrets, on the outside, and not
within the row of buildings themselves. But those towers, are not to
be of the height of the front, but rather proportionable to the lower
building. Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat
in summer, and much cold in winter. But only some side alleys, with a
cross, and the quarters to graze, being kept shorn, but not too near
shorn. The row of return on the banquet side, let it be all stately
galleries: in which galleries let there be three, or five, fine cupolas
in the length of it, placed at equal distance; and fine colored windows
of several works. On the household side, chambers of presence and
ordinary entertainments, with some bed-chambers; and let all three sides
be a double house, without thorough lights on the sides, that you may
have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon and afternoon. Cast it also,
that you may have rooms, both for summer and winter; shady for summer,
and warm for winter. You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of
glass, that one cannot tell where to become, to be out of the sun or
cold. For inbowed windows, I hold them of good use (in cities, indeed,
upright do better, in respect of the uniformity towards the street); for
they be pretty retiring places for conference; and besides, they keep
both the wind and sun off; for that which would strike almost through
the room, doth scarce pass the window. But let them be but few, four in
the court, on the sides only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, of the same square and
height; which is to be environed with the garden on all sides; and in
the inside, cloistered on all sides, upon decent and beautiful arches,
as high as the first story. On the under story, towards the garden, let
it be turned to a grotto, or a place of shade, or estivation. And only
have opening and windows towards the garden; and be level upon the
floor, no whit sunken under ground, to avoid all dampishness. And let
there be a fountain, or some fair work of statuas, in the midst of this
court; and to be paved as the other court was. These buildings to be for
privy lodgings on both sides; and the end for privy galleries. Whereof
you must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, if the prince
or any special person should be sick, with chambers, bed-chamber,
antecamera, and recamera joining to it. This upon the second story. Upon
the ground story, a fair gallery, open, upon pillars; and upon the third
story likewise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the prospect and
freshness of the garden. At both corners of the further side, by way
of return, let there be two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved,
richly hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich cupola in the
midst; and all other elegancy that may be thought upon. In the upper
gallery too, I wish that there may be, if the place will yield it,
some fountains running in divers places from the wall, with some fine
avoidances. And thus much for the model of the palace; save that you
must have, before you come to the front, three courts. A green court
plain, with a wall about it; a second court of the same, but more
garnished, with little turrets, or rather embellishments, upon the wall;
and a third court, to make a square with the front, but not to be built,
nor yet enclosed with a naked wall, but enclosed with terraces, leaded
aloft, and fairly garnished, on the three sides; and cloistered on the
inside, with pillars, and not with arches below. As for offices, let
them stand at distance, with some low galleries, to pass from them to
the palace itself.




Of Gardens


GOD Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed it is the purest of
human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man;
without which, buildings and palaces are but gross handiworks; and a man
shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come
to build stately sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening were
the greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gardens,
there ought to be gardens, for all the months in the year; in which
severally things of beauty may be then in season. For December, and
January, and the latter part of November, you must take such things as
are green all winter: holly; ivy; bays; juniper; cypress-trees; yew;
pine-apple-trees; fir-trees; rosemary; lavender; periwinkle, the white,
the purple, and the blue; germander; flags; orange-trees; lemon-trees;
and myrtles, if they be stoved; and sweet marjoram, warm set.
There followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the
mezereon-tree, which then blossoms; crocus vernus, both the yellow and
the grey; primroses, anemones; the early tulippa; hyacinthus orientalis;
chamairis; fritellaria. For March, there come violets, specially the
single blue, which are the earliest; the yellow daffodil; the daisy; the
almond-tree in blossom; the peach-tree in blossom; the cornelian-tree
in blossom; sweet-briar. In April follow the double white violet; the
wallflower; the stock-gilliflower; the cowslip; flowerdelices, and
lilies of all natures; rosemary-flowers; the tulippa; the double peony;
the pale daffodil; the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blossom;
the damson and plum-trees in blossom; the white thorn in leaf; the
lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, specially the
blushpink; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later;
honeysuckles; strawberries; bugloss; columbine; the French marigold,
flos Africanus; cherry-tree in fruit; ribes; figs in fruit; rasps;
vineflowers; lavender in flowers; the sweet satyrian, with the white
flower; herba muscaria; lilium convallium; the apple-tree in blossom.
In July come gilliflowers of all varieties; musk-roses; the lime-tree in
blossom; early pears and plums in fruit; jennetings, codlins. In
August come plums of all sorts in fruit; pears; apricocks; berberries;
filberds; musk-melons; monks-hoods, of all colors. In September come
grapes; apples; poppies of all colors; peaches; melocotones; nectarines;
cornelians; wardens; quinces. In October and the beginning of November
come services; medlars; bullaces; roses cut or removed to come late;
hollyhocks; and such like. These particulars are for the climate of
London; but my meaning is perceived, that you may have ver perpetuum, as
the place affords.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it
comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore
nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers
and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast
flowers of their smells; so that you may walk by a whole row of them,
and find nothing of their sweetness; yea though it be in a morning's
dew. Bays likewise yield no smell as they grow. Rosemary little; nor
sweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the sweetest smell
in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes
twice a year; about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide.
Next to that is the musk-rose. Then the strawberry-leaves dying, which
yield a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of vines; it is
a little dust, like the dust of a bent, which grows upon the cluster in
the first coming forth. Then sweet-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are
very delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window.
Then pinks and gilliflowers, especially the matted pink and clove
gilliflower. Then the flowers of the lime-tree. Then the honeysuckles,
so they be somewhat afar off. Of beanflowers I speak not, because they
are field flowers. But those which perfume the air most delightfully,
not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are
three; that is, burnet, wildthyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to
set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed princelike, as we have
done of buildings), the contents ought not well to be under thirty acres
of ground; and to be divided into three parts; a green in the entrance;
a heath or desert in the going forth; and the main garden in the midst;
besides alleys on both sides. And I like well that four acres of ground
be assigned to the green; six to the heath; four and four to either
side; and twelve to the main garden. The green hath two pleasures: the
one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept
finely shorn; the other, because it will give you a fair alley in the
midst, by which you may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to
enclose the garden. But because the alley will be long, and, in great
heat of the year or day, you ought not to buy the shade in the garden,
by going in the sun through the green, therefore you are, of either side
the green, to plant a covert alley upon carpenter's work, about twelve
foot in height, by which you may go in shade into the garden. As for the
making of knots or figures, with divers colored earths, that they may
lie under the windows of the house on that side which the garden stands,
they be but toys; you may see as good sights, many times, in tarts. The
garden is best to be square, encompassed on all the four sides with a
stately arched hedge. The arches to be upon pillars of carpenter's work,
of some ten foot high, and six foot broad; and the spaces between of the
same dimension with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there
be an entire hedge of some four foot high, framed also upon carpenter's
work; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret, with
a belly, enough to receive a cage of birds: and over every space between
the arches some other little figure, with broad plates of round colored
glass gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be
raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently slope, of some six foot, set
all with flowers. Also I understand, that this square of the garden,
should not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either
side, ground enough for diversity of side alleys; unto which the two
covert alleys of the green, may deliver you. But there must be no alleys
with hedges, at either end of this great enclosure; not at the hither
end, for letting your prospect upon this fair hedge from the green; nor
at the further end, for letting your prospect from the hedge, through
the arches upon the heath.

For the ordering of the ground, within the great hedge, I leave it to
variety of device; advising nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast
it into, first, it be not too busy, or full of work. Wherein I, for my
part, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff; they
be for children. Little low hedges, round, like welts, with some pretty
pyramids, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon frames of
carpenter's work. I would also have the alleys, spacious and fair. You
may have closer alleys, upon the side grounds, but none in the main
garden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount, with three
ascents, and alleys, enough for four to walk abreast; which I would
have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or embossments; and the
whole mount to be thirty foot high; and some fine banqueting-house, with
some chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass.

For fountains, they are a great beauty and refreshment; but pools mar
all, and make the garden unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs.
Fountains I intend to be of two natures: the one that sprinkleth or
spouteth water; the other a fair receipt of water, of some thirty or
forty foot square, but without fish, or slime, or mud. For the first,
the ornaments of images gilt, or of marble, which are in use, do well:
but the main matter is so to convey the water, as it never stay,
either in the bowls or in the cistern; that the water be never by
rest discolored, green or red or the like; or gather any mossiness or
putrefaction. Besides that, it is to be cleansed every day by the hand.
Also some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. As
for the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing pool, it
may admit much curiosity and beauty; wherewith we will not trouble
ourselves: as, that the bottom be finely paved, and with images; the
sides likewise; and withal embellished with colored glass, and such
things of lustre; encompassed also with fine rails of low statuas. But
the main point is the same which we mentioned in the former kind of
fountain; which is, that the water be in perpetual motion, fed by a
water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by fair spouts, and
then discharged away under ground, by some equality of bores, that it
stay little. And for fine devices, of arching water without spilling,
and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, drinking glasses,
canopies, and the like), they be pretty things to look on, but nothing
to health and sweetness.

For the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wish it to be
framed, as much as may be, to a natural wildness. Trees I would have
none in it, but some thickets made only of sweet-briar and honeysuckle,
and some wild vine amongst; and the ground set with violets,
strawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet, and prosper in the
shade. And these to be in the heath, here and there, not in any order. I
like also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills (such as are in wild
heaths), to be set, some with wild thyme; some with pinks; some with
germander, that gives a good flower to the eye; some with periwinkle;
some with violets; some with strawberries; some with cowslips; some with
daisies; some with red roses; some with lilium convallium; some with
sweet-williams red; some with bear's-foot: and the like low flowers,
being withal sweet and sightly. Part of which heaps, are to be with
standards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and part without. The
standards to be roses; juniper; holly; berberries (but here and there,
because of the smell of their blossoms); red currants; gooseberries;
rosemary; bays; sweetbriar; and such like. But these standards to be
kept with cutting, that they grow not out of course.

For the side grounds, you are to fill them with variety of alleys,
private, to give a full shade, some of them, wheresoever the sun be.
You are to frame some of them, likewise, for shelter, that when the
wind blows sharp you may walk as in a gallery. And those alleys must
be likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind; and these closer
alleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because of going
wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you are to set fruit-trees
of all sorts; as well upon the walls, as in ranges. And this would be
generally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruit-trees,
be fair and large, and low, and not steep; and set with fine flowers,
but thin and sparingly, lest they deceive the trees. At the end of both
the side grounds, I would have a mount of some pretty height, leaving
the wall of the enclosure breast high, to look abroad into the fields.

For the main garden, I do not deny, but there should be some fair
alleys ranged on both sides, with fruit-trees; and some pretty tufts of
fruit-trees, and arbors with seats, set in some decent order; but these
to be by no means set too thick; but to leave the main garden so as it
be not close, but the air open and free. For as for shade, I would have
you rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you be
disposed, in the heat of the year or day; but to make account, that the
main garden is for the more temperate parts of the year; and in the heat
of summer, for the morning and the evening, or overcast days.

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness as they
may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in them; that the
birds may have more scope, and natural nesting, and that no foulness
appear in the floor of the aviary. So I have made a platform of a
princely garden, partly by precept, partly by drawing, not a model, but
some general lines of it; and in this I have spared for no cost. But it
is nothing for great princes, that for the most part taking advice with
workmen, with no less cost set their things together; and sometimes add
statuas and such things for state and magnificence, but nothing to the
true pleasure of a garden.




Of Negotiating


IT IS generally better to deal by speech than by letter; and by the
mediation of a third than by a man's self. Letters are good, when a man
would draw an answer by letter back again; or when it may serve for a
man's justification afterwards to produce his own letter; or where it
may be danger to be interrupted, or heard by pieces. To deal in person
is good, when a man's face breedeth regard, as commonly with inferiors;
or in tender cases, where a man's eye, upon the countenance of him with
whom he speaketh, may give him a direction how far to go; and generally,
where a man will reserve to himself liberty, either to disavow or to
expound. In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of a
plainer sort, that are like to do that, that is committed to them,
and to report back again faithfully the success, than those that are
cunning, to contrive, out of other men's business, somewhat to grace
themselves, and will help the matter in report for satisfaction's sake.
Use also such persons as affect the business, wherein they are employed;
for that quickeneth much; and such, as are fit for the matter; as bold
men for expostulation, fair-spoken men for persuasion, crafty men for
inquiry and observation, froward, and absurd men, for business that
doth not well bear out itself. Use also such as have been lucky, and
prevailed before, in things wherein you have employed them; for that
breeds confidence, and they will strive to maintain their prescription.
It is better to sound a person, with whom one deals afar off, than to
fall upon the point at first; except you mean to surprise him by some
short question. It is better dealing with men in appetite, than with
those that are where they would be. If a man deal with another upon
conditions, the start or first performance is all; which a man cannot
reasonably demand, except either the nature of the thing be such, which
must go before; or else a man can persuade the other party, that he
shall still need him in some other thing; or else that he be counted
the honester man. All practice is to discover, or to work. Men discover
themselves in trust, in passion, at unawares, and of necessity, when
they would have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pretext. If you
would work any man, you must either know his nature and fashions, and
so lead him; or his ends, and so persuade him; or his weakness and
disadvantages, and so awe him; or those that have interest in him, and
so govern him. In dealing with cunning persons, we must ever consider
their ends, to interpret their speeches; and it is good to say little
to them, and that which they least look for. In all negotiations of
difficulty, a man may not look to sow and reap at once; but must prepare
business, and so ripen it by degrees.




Of Followers And Friends


COSTLY followers are not to be liked; lest while a man maketh his train
longer, he make his wings shorter. I reckon to be costly, not them alone
which charge the purse, but which are wearisome, and importune in
suits. Ordinary followers ought to challenge no higher conditions,
than countenance, recommendation, and protection from wrongs. Factious
followers are worse to be liked, which follow not upon affection to
him, with whom they range themselves, but upon discontentment conceived
against some other; whereupon commonly ensueth that ill intelligence,
that we many times see between great personages. Likewise glorious
followers, who make themselves as trumpets of the commendation of those
they follow, are full of inconvenience; for they taint business through
want of secrecy; and they export honor from a man, and make him a return
in envy. There is a kind of followers likewise, which are dangerous,
being indeed espials; which inquire the secrets of the house, and bear
tales of them, to others. Yet such men, many times, are in great favor;
for they are officious, and commonly exchange tales. The following by
certain estates of men, answerable to that, which a great person himself
professeth (as of soldiers, to him that hath been employed in the wars,
and the like), hath ever been a thing civil, and well taken, even in
monarchies; so it be without too much pomp or popularity. But the most
honorable kind of following, is to be followed as one, that apprehendeth
to advance virtue, and desert, in all sorts of persons. And yet, where
there is no eminent odds in sufficiency, it is better to take with the
more passable, than with the more able. And besides, to speak truth, in
base times, active men are of more use than virtuous. It is true that
in government, it is good to use men of one rank equally: for to
countenance some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and the rest
discontent; because they may claim a due. But contrariwise, in favor,
to use men with much difference and election is good; for it maketh the
persons preferred more thankful, and the rest more officious: because
all is of favor. It is good discretion, not to make too much of any
man at the first; because one cannot hold out that proportion. To be
governed (as we call it) by one is not safe; for it shows softness, and
gives a freedom, to scandal and disreputation; for those, that would
not censure or speak ill of a man immediately, will talk more boldly of
those that are so great with them, and thereby wound their honor. Yet
to be distracted with many is worse; for it makes men to be of the last
impression, and full of change. To take advice of some few friends, is
ever honorable; for lookers-on many times see more than gamesters; and
the vale best discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the
world, and least of all between equals, which was wont to be magnified.
That that is, is between superior and inferior, whose fortunes may
comprehend the one the other.




Of Suitors


MANY ill matters and projects are undertaken; and private suits do
putrefy the public good. Many good matters, are undertaken with bad
minds; I mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that intend not
performance. Some embrace suits, which never mean to deal effectually
in them; but if they see there may be life in the matter, by some other
mean, they will be content to win a thank, or take a second reward, or
at least to make use, in the meantime, of the suitor's hopes. Some take
hold of suits, only for an occasion to cross some other; or to make an
information, whereof they could not otherwise have apt pretext; without
care what become of the suit, when that turn is served; or, generally,
to make other men's business a kind of entertainment, to bring in their
own. Nay, some undertake suits, with a full purpose to let them fall; to
the end to gratify the adverse party, or competitor. Surely there is in
some sort a right in every suit; either a right of equity, if it be a
suit of controversy; or a right of desert, if it be a suit of petition.
If affection lead a man to favor the wrong side in justice, let him
rather use his countenance to compound the matter, than to carry it. If
affection lead a man to favor the less worthy in desert, let him do it,
without depraving or disabling the better deserver. In suits which a
man doth not well understand, it is good to refer them to some friend
of trust and judgment, that may report, whether he may deal in them with
honor: but let him choose well his referendaries, for else he may be led
by the nose. Suitors are so distasted with delays and abuses, that plain
dealing, in denying to deal in suits at first, and reporting the success
barely, and in challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved, is
grown not only honorable, but also gracious. In suits of favor, the
first coming ought to take little place: so far forth, consideration
may be had of his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could not
otherwise have been had, but by him, advantage be not taken of the note,
but the party left to his other means; and in some sort recompensed, for
his discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit, is simplicity;
as well as to be ignorant of the right thereof, is want of conscience.
Secrecy in suits, is a great mean of obtaining; for voicing them to be
in forwardness, may discourage some kind of suitors, but doth quicken
and awake others.