1  It may be allowed to be a question fit for the determination of those concerning whom Cato said, Their palates are more sensitive than their hearts, whether that saying of Philoxenus the poet be true or no, The most savory flesh is that which is no flesh, and fish that is no fish. Yet this to me, Marcus Sedatus, is out of question, that those precepts of philosophy which seem not to be delivered with a designed gravity, such as becomes philosophers, take most with persons that are very young, and meet with a more ready acceptance and compliance from them. Whence it is that they do not only read through Aesop's fables and the fictions of poets and the Abaris of Heraclides and Ariston's Lyco; but they also read such doctrines as relate to the souls of men, if something fabulous be mixed with them, with an excess of pleasure that borders on enthusiasm. Wherefore we are not only to govern their appetites in the delights of eating and drinking, but also (and much more) to inure them to a like temperance in reading and hearing, that, while they make use of pleasure as a sauce, they may pursue that which is wholesome and profitable in those things which they read. For neither can a city be secure if but one gate be left open to receive the enemy, though all the rest be shut; nor a young man safe, though he be sufficiently fortified against the assaults of all other pleasures, whilst he is without any guard against those of the ear. Yea, the nearer the commerce is betwixt the delights of that sense and those of the mind and reason, by so much the more, when he lies open on that side, is he apt to be debauched and corrupted thereby. Seeing therefore we cannot (and perhaps would not if we could) debar young men of the size of my Soclarus and thy Cleander altogether from the reading of poets, yet let us keep the stricter guard upon them, as those who need a guide to direct them in their reading more than in their walks. Upon which consideration, I find myself disposed to send thee at present in writing that discourse concerning Poetry which I had lately an occasion to deliver by word of mouth; that, when thou hast read it over thyself, thou mayst also make such use of it, if thou judgest it may be serviceable to that purpose, as those which are engaged to drink hard do of amethysts (or preservatives against drunkenness), — that is, that thou mayst communicate it to Cleander, to prepossess him therewith; seeing he is naturally endowed with a brisk, piercing, and daring wit, and therefore more prone to be inveigled by that sort of study. They say of the fish called polypus that His head in one respect is very good, But in another very naughty food; because, though it be very luscious to eat, yet it is thought to disturb the fancy with frightful and confused dreams. And the like observation may be made concerning poetry, that it affords sweet and withal wholesome nourishment to the minds of young men, but yet it contains likewise no less matter of disturbance and emotion to them that want a right conduct in the study thereof. For of it also, as well as of Egypt, may it be said that (to those who will use it) Its over-fertile and luxuriant field Medicines and poisons intermixt doth yield; for therein Love with soft passions and rich language drest Oft steals the heart out of th' ingenuous breast." And indeed such only are endangered thereby, for the charms of that art ordinarily affect not those that are downright sots and naturally incapable of learning. Wherefore, when Simonides was asked why of all men he could not deceive the Thessalians, his answer was, Because they are not so well bred as to be capable of being cajoled by me. And Gorgias used to call tragical poems cheats, wherein he that did cheat was juster than he that did not cheat, and he that was cheated was wiser than he that was not cheated. It deserves therefore our consideration, whether we shall put young men into Epicurus's boat, — wherein, having their ears stopped with wax, as those of the men of Ithaca were, they shall be obliged to sail by and not so much as touch at poetry, — or rather keep a guard on them, so as to oblige their judgments by principles of right reason to use it aright, and preserve them from being seduced to their hurt by that which affords them so much delight. For neither did Lycurgus, the valiant son of Dryas (as Homer calls him) act like a man of sound reason in the course which he took to reform his people that were much inclined to drunkenness, by travelling up and down to destroy all the vines in the country; whereas he should have ordered that every vine should have a well of water near it, that (as Plato saith) the drunken deity might be reduced to temperance by a sober one. For water mixed with wine takes away the hurtful spirits, while it leaves the useful ones in it. Neither should we cut down or destroy the Muses' vine, poetry; but where we perceive it luxuriates and grows wild through an ungoverned appetite of applause, there ought we to prune away or keep under the fabulous and theatrical branches thereof; and where we find any of the Graces linked to any of the Muses, — that is, where the lusciousness and tempting charms of language are not altogether barren and unprofitable, — there let us bring in philosophy to incorporate with it. For as, where the mandrake grows near the vine and so communicates something of its force thereto, the wine that is made of its grapes makes the sleep of those that drink it more refreshing; so doth the tempering poetry with the principles of philosophy and allaying their roughness with its fictions render the study of them more easy and the relish of them more grateful to young learners. Wherefore those that would give their minds to philosophical studies are not obliged to avoid poetry altogether, but rather to prepare themselves for philosophy by poems, accustoming themselves to search for and embrace that which may profit in that which pleaseth them, and rejecting and discarding that wherein they find nothing of this nature. For this discrimination is the first step to learning; and when this is attained, then, according to what Sophocles saith: 
To have begun well what we do intend 
Gives hope and prospect of as good an end. 

2  Let us therefore in the first place possess those whom we initiate in the study of poetry with this notion (as one which they ought always to have at hand), that 'Tis frequently the poet's guise To intermingle truth with lies; which they do sometimes with and sometimes against their wills. They do it with their wills, because they find strict truth too rigid to comply with that sweetness and gracefulness of expression, which most are taken with, so readily as fiction doth. For real truth, though it disgust never so much, must be told as it is, without alteration; but that which is feigned in a discourse can easily yield and shift its garb from the distasteful to that which is more pleasing. And indeed, neither the measures nor the tropes nor the grandeur of words nor the aptness of metaphors nor the harmony of the composition gives such a degree of elegance and gracefulness to a poem as a well-ordered and artificial fiction doth. But as in pictures the colors are more delightful to the eye than the lines, because those give them a nearer resemblance to the persons they were made for, and render them the more apt to deceive the beholder; so in poems we are more apt to be smitten and fall in love with a probable fiction than with the greatest accuracy that can be observed in measures and phrases, where there is nothing fabulous or fictitious joined with it. Wherefore Socrates, being induced by some dreams to attempt something in poetry, and finding himself unapt, by reason that he had all his lifetime been the champion of severe truth, to hammer out of his own invention a likely fiction, made choice of Aesop's fables to turn into verse; as judging nothing to be true poetry that had in it nothing of falsehood. For though we have known some sacrifices performed without pipes and dances, yet we own no poetry which is utterly destitute of fable and fiction. Whence the verses of Empedocles and Parmenides, the Theriaca of Nicander, and the sentences of Theognis, are rather to be accounted speeches than poems, which, that they might not walk contemptibly on foot, have borrowed from poetry the chariot of verse, to convey them the more creditably through the world. Whensoever therefore any thing is spoken in poems by any noted and eminently famous man, concerning Gods or Daemons or virtue, that is absurd or harsh, he that takes such sayings for truths is thereby misled in his apprehension and corrupted with an erroneous opinion. But he that constantly keeps in his mind and maintains as his principle that the witchcraft of poetry consists in fiction, he that can at all turns accost it in this language: Riddle of art! like which no sphinx beguiles; Whose face on one side frowns while th' other smiles! Why cheat'st thou, with pretence to make us wise, And bid'st sage precepts in a fool's disguise? such a one, I say, will take no harm by it, nor admit from it any absurd thing into his belief. But when he meets in poetry with expressions of Poseidon's rending the earth to pieces and discovering the infernal regions, he will be able to check his fears of the reality of any such accident; and he will rebuke himself for his anger against Apollo for the chief commander of the Greeks: Whom at a banquet, whiles he sings his praise And speaks him fair, yet treacherously he slays." Yea, he will repress his tears for Achilles and Agamemnon, while they are represented as mourning after their death, and stretching forth their limber and feeble hands to express their desire to live again. And if at any time the charms of poetry transport him into any disquieting passions, he will quickly say to himself, as Homer very elegantly (considering the propension of women to listen after fables) says in his Necyia, or relation of the state of the dead: But from the dark dominions speed thy way, And climb the steep ascent to upper day; To thy chaste bride the wondrous story tell, The woes, the horrors, and the laws of hell. Such things as I have touched upon are those which the poets willingly feign. But more there are which they do not feign, but believing them themselves as their own proper judgments, they put fictitious colors upon them to ingratiate them to us. As when Homer says of Zeus: 
Zeus lifts the golden balances, that show 
The fates of mortal men, and things below. 
Here each contending hero's lot he tries, 
And weighs with equal hand their destinies. 
Low sinks the scale surcharged with Hector's fate; 
Heavy with death it sinks, and hell receives the weight. 
To this fable Aeschylus hath accommodated a whole tragedy which he calls Psychostasia, wherein he introduceth Thetis and Aurora standing by Zeus's balances, and deprecating each of them the death of her son engaged in a duel. Now there is no man but sees that this fable is a creature of the poet's fancy, designed to delight or scare the reader. But this other passage: Great Zeus is made the treasurer of wars; and this other also: 
When a God means a noble house to raze, 
He frames one rather than he'll want a cause: 
these passages, I say, express the judgment and belief of poets who thereby discover and suggest to us the ignorant or mistaken apprehensions they had of the Deities. Moreover, almost every one knows nowadays, that the portentous fancies and contrivances of stories concerning the state of the dead are accommodated to popular apprehensions, — that the spectres and phantasms of burning rivers and horrid regions and terrible tortures expressed by frightful names are all mixed with fable and fiction, as poison with food; and that neither Homer nor Pindar nor Sophocles ever believed themselves when they wrote at this rate: 
There endless floods of shady darkness stream 
From the vast caves, where mother Night doth teem; and, 
There ghosts o'er the vast ocean's waves did glide, 
By the Leucadian promontory's side; and, 
There from th' unfathomed gulf th' infernal lake 
Through narrow straits recurring tides doth make. 
And yet, as many of them as deplore death as a lamentable thing, or the want of burial after death as a calamitous condition, are wont to break out into expressions of this nature: 
O pass not by, my friend; nor leave me here 
Without a grave, and on that grave a tear; and, 
Then to the ghosts the mournful soul did fly, 
Sore grieved in midst of youth and strength to die; and again, 
'Tis sweet to see the light. O spare me then, 
Till I arrive at th' usual age of men: 
Nor force my unfledged soul from hence, to know 
The doleful state of dismal shades below. These, I say, are the speeches of men persuaded of these things, as being possessed by erroneous opinions; and therefore they touch us the more nearly and torment us inwardly, because we ourselves are full of the same impotent passion from which they were uttered. To fortify us therefore against expressions of this nature, let this principle continually ring in our ears, that poetry is not at all solicitous to keep to the strict measure of truth. And indeed, as to what that truth in these matters is, even those men themselves who make it their only study to learn and search it out confess that they can hardly discover any certain footsteps to guide them in that enquiry. Let us therefore have these verses of Empedocles, in this case, at hand: No sight of man's so clear, no ear so quick, No mind so piercing, that's not here to seek; as also those of Xenophanes: 
The truth about the Gods and world, no man 
E'er was or shall be that determine can; 
and lastly, that passage concerning Socrates, in Plato, where he by the solemnity of an oath disclaims all knowledge of those things. For those who perceive that the searching into such matters makes the heads of philosophers themselves giddy cannot but be the less inclined to regard what poets say concerning them. 

3  And we shall fix our young man yet the more if, when we enter him in the poets, we first describe poetry to him, and tell him that it is an imitating art and doth in many respects correspond to painting; not only acquainting him with that common saying, that poetry is vocal painting and painting silent poetry, but teaching him, moreover, that when we see a lizard or an ape or the face of a Thersites in a picture, we are surprised with pleasure and wonder at it, not because of any beauty in the things, but for the likeness of the draught. For it is repugnant to the nature of that which is itself foul to be at the same time fair; and therefore it is the imitation — be the thing imitated beautiful or ugly — that, in case it do express it to the life, is commended; and on the contrary, if the imitation make a foul thing to appear fair, it is dispraised because it observes not decency and likeness. Now some painters there are that paint uncomely actions; as Timotheus drew Medea killing her children; Theon, Orestes murdering his mother; and Parrhasius, Ulysses counterfeiting madness; yea, Chaerephanes expressed in picture the unchaste converse of women with men. Now in such cases a young man is to be familiarly acquainted with this notion, that, when men praise such pictures, they praise not the actions represented but only the painter's art, which doth so lively express what was designed in them. Wherefore, in like manner, seeing poetry many times describes by imitation foul actions and unseemly passions and manners, the young student must not in such descriptions (although performed never so artificially and commendably) believe all that is said as true or embrace it as good, but give its due commendation so far only as it suits the subject treated of. For as, when we hear the grunting of hogs and the shrieking of pulleys and the rustling of wind and the roaring of seas, we are, it may be, disturbed and displeased, and yet when we hear any one imitating these or the like noises handsomely (as Parmenio did that of an hog, and Theodorus that of a pulley), we are well pleased; and as we avoid (as an unpleasing spectacle) the sight of sick persons and of a lazar full of ulcers, and yet are delighted to be spectators of the Philoctetes of Aristophon and the Jocasta of Silanion, wherein such wasting and dying persons are well acted; so must the young scholar, when he reads in a poem of Thersites the buffoon or Sisyphus the whoremaster or Batrachus the bawd speaking or doing any thing, so praise the artificial managery of the poet, adapting the expressions to the persons, as withal to look on the discourses and actions so expressed as odious and abominable. For the goodness of things themselves differs much from the goodness of the imitation of them; the goodness of the latter consisting only in propriety and aptness to represent the former. Whence to foul actions foul expressions are most suitable and proper. As the shoes of Demonides the cripple (which, when he had lost them, he wished might suit the feet of him that stole them) were but unhandsome shoes, but yet fit for the man they were made for; so we may say of such expressions as these: 'Tis worth the while an unjust act to own, When it sets him that does it on a throne;" Get the repute of Just for a disguise, And in it do all things whence gain may rise; A talent dowry! Could I close my eyes In sleep, or live, if thee I should despise? And should I not in hell tormented be, Could I be guilty of profaning thee?" These, it is true, are wicked as well as false speeches, but yet are decent enough in the mouth of an Eteocles, an Ixion, and an old griping usurer. If therefore we mind our children that the poets write not such things as praising and approving them, but do really account them base and vicious and therefore accommodate such speeches to base and vicious persons, they will never be damnified by them from the esteem they have of the poets in whom they meet with them. But, on the contrary, the suspicions insinuated into them of the persons will render the words and actions ascribed to them suspected for evil, because proceeding from such evil men. And of this nature is Homer's representation of Paris, when he describes him running out of the battle into Helen's bed. For in that he attributes no such indecent act to any other, but only to that incontinent and adulterous person, he evidently declares that he intends that relation to import a disgrace and reproach to such intemperance. 

4  In such passages therefore we are carefully to observe whether or not the poet himself do anywhere give any intimation that he dislikes the things he makes such persons say; which, in the prologue to his Thais Menanderdoes, in these words: Therefore, my Muse, describe me now a whore, Fair, bold, and furnished with a nimble tongue; One that ne'er scruples to do lovers wrong; That always craves, and denied shuts her door; That truly loves no man, yet, for her ends, Affection true to every man pretends. But Homer of all the poets does it best. For he doth beforehand, as it were, bespeak dislike of the evil things and approbation of the good things he utters. Of the latter take these instances: He readily did the occasion take, And sweet and comfortable words he spake;" By him he stood, and with soft speeches quelled The wrath which in his heated bosom swelled." And for the former, he so performs it as in a manner solemnly to forbid us to use or heed such speeches as those he mentions, as being foolish and wicked. For example, being to tell us how uncivilly Agamemnon treated the priest, he premises these words of his own: Not so Atrides: he with kingly pride Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied;" intimating the insolency and unbecomingness of his answer. And when he attributes this passionate speech to Achilles: O monster, mix'd of insolence and fear, Thou dog in forehead, and in heart a deer!" he accompanies it with this censure: Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke; for it was unlikely that speaking in such anger he should observe any rules of decency. And he passeth like censures on actions. As on Achilles's foul usage of Hector's carcass: Gloomy he said, and (horrible to view) Before the bier the bleeding Hector threw. And in like manner he doth very decently shut up relations of things said or done, by adding some sentence wherein he declares his judgment of them. As when he personates some of the Gods saying, on the occasion of the adultery of Mars and Aphrodite discovered by Hephaestus's artifice: See the swift God o'ertaken by the lame! Thus ill acts prosper not, but end in shame. And thus concerning Hecter's insolent boasting he says: With such big words his mind proud Hector eased, But venerable Hera he displeased. And when he speaks of Pandarus's shooting, he adds: He heard, and madly at the motion pleased, His polish'd bow with hasty rashness seized." Now these verbal intimations of the minds and judgments of poets are not difficult to be understood by any one that will heedfully observe them. But besides these, they give us other hints from actions. As Euripides is reported, when some blamed him for bringing such an impious and flagitious villain as Ixion upon the stage, to have given this answer: But yet I brought him not off till I had fastened him to a torturing wheel. This same way of teaching by mute actions is to be found in Homer also, affording us useful contemplations upon those very fables which are usually most disliked in him. These some men offer force to, that they may reduce them to allegories (which the ancients called ὑπόνοιαι), and tell us that Aphrodite committing adultery with Mars, discovered by the Sun, is to be understood thus: that when the star called Aphrodite is in conjunction with that which hath the name of Mars, bastardly births are produced, and by the Sun's rising and discovering them they are not concealed. So will they have Hera's dressing herself so accurately to tempt Zeus, and her making use of the girdle of Aphrodite to inflame his love, to be nothing else but the purification of that part of the air which draweth nearest to the nature of fire. As if we were not told the meaning of those fables far better by the poet himself. For he teacheth us in that of Aphrodite, if we heed it, that light music and wanton songs and discourses which suggest to men obscene fancies debauch their manners, and incline them to an unmanly way of living in luxury and wantonness, of continually haunting the company of women, and of being Given to fashions, that their garb may please, Hot baths, and couches where they loll at ease. And therefore also he brings in Ulysses directing the musician thus: Leave this, and sing the horse, out of whose womb The gallant knights that conquered Troy did come;" evidently teaching us that poets and musicians ought to receive the arguments of their songs from sober and understanding men. And in the other fable of Hera he excellently shows that the conversation of women with men. and the favors they receive from them procured by sorcery, witchcraft, or other unlawful arts, are not only short, unstable, and soon cloying, but also in the issue easily turned to loathing and displeasure, when once the pleasure is over. For so Zeus there threatens Hera, when he tells her: Hear this, remember, and our fury dread, Nor pull the unwilling vengeance on thy head; Lest arts and blandishments successless prove Thy soft deceits and well dissembled love." For the fiction and representation of evil acts, when it withal acquaints us with the shame and damage befalling the doers, hurts not but rather profits him that reads them. For which end philosophers make use of examples for our instruction and correction out of historical collections; and poets do the very same thing, but with this difference, that they invent fabulous examples themselves. There was one Melanthius, who (whether in jest or earnest he said it, it matters not much) affirmed that the city of Athens owed its preservation to the dissensions and factions that were among the orators, giving withal this reason for his assertion, that thereby they were kept from inclining all of them to one side, so that by means of the differences among those statesmen there were always some that drew the saw the right way for the defeating of destructive counsels. And thus it is too in the contradictions among poets, which, by lessening the credit of what they say, render them the less powerful to do mischief; and therefore, when comparing one saying with another we discover their contrariety, we ought to adhere to the better side. As in these instances: The Gods, my son, deceive poor men oft-times. Ans. 'Tis easy, sir, on God to lay our crimes.'Tis comfort to thee to be rich, is't not! Ans. No, sir, 'tis bad to be a wealthy sot. Die rather than such toilsome pains to take. Ans. To call God's service toil's a foul mistake. Such contrarieties as these are easily solved, if (as I said) we teach youth to judge aright and to give the better saying preference. But if we chance to meet with any absurd passages without any others at their heels to confute them, we are then to overthrow them with such others as elsewhere are to be found in the author. Nor must we be offended with the poet or grieved at him, but only at the speeches themselves, which he utters either according to the vulgar manner of speaking or, it may be, but in drollery. So, when thou readest in Homer of Gods thrown out of heaven headlong one by another, or Gods wounded by men and quarrelling and brawling with each other, thou mayest readily, if thou wilt, say to him: Sure thy invention here was sorely out, Or thou hadst said far better things, no doubt;" yea, and thou dost so elsewhere, and according as thou thinkest, to wit, in these passages of thine: The Gods, removed from all that men doth grieve, A quiet and contented life do live. Herein the immortal Gods for ever blest Feel endless joys and undisturbed rest. The Gods, who have themselves no cause to grieve, For wretched man a web of sorrow weave." For these argue sound and true opinions of the Gods; but those other were only feigned to raise passions in men. Again, when Euripides speaks at this rate: The Gods are better than we men by far, And yet by them we oft deceived are: we may do well to quote him elsewhere against himself, where he says better: If Gods do wrong, surely no Gods there are. So also, when Pindar saith bitterly and keenly, No law forbids us any thing to do, Whereby a mischief may befall a foe, tell him: But, Pindar, thou thyself sayest elsewhere. The pleasure which injurious acts attends Always in bitter consequences ends. And when Sophocles speaks thus, Sweet is the gain, wherein to lie and cheat Adds the repute of wit to what we get, tell him: But we have heard thee say far otherwise, When the account's cast up, the gain's but poor Which by a lying tongue augments the store. And as to what he saith of riches, to wit: Wealth, where it minds to go, meets with no stay; For where it finds not, it can make a way; Many fair offers doth the poor let go, And lose his prize because his purse is low; The fair tongue makes, where wealth can purchase it, The foul face beautiful, the fool a wit: here the reader may set in opposition divers other sayings of the same author. For example, From honor poverty doth not debar, Where poor men virtuous and deserving are. Whate'er fools think, a man is ne'er the worse If he be wise, though with an empty purse. The comfort which he gets who wealth enjoys, The vexing care by which 'tis kept destroys. And Menander also somewhere magnifies a voluptuous life, and inflames the minds of vain persons with these amorous strains, The glorious sun no living thing doth see, But what's a slave to love as well as we. But yet elsewhere, on the other side, he fastens on us and pulls us back to the love of virtue, and checks the rage of lust, when he says thus, The life that is dishonorably spent, Be it ne'er so pleasant, yields no true content. For these lines are contrary to the former, as they are also better and more profitable; so that by comparing them considerately one cannot but either be inclined to the better side, or at least flag in the belief of the worse. But now, supposing that any of the poets themselves afford no such correcting passages to solve what they have said amiss, it will then be advisable to confront them with the contrary sayings of other famous men, and therewith to sway the scales of our judgment to the better side. As, when Alexis tempts to debauchery in these verses, The wise man knows what of all things is best, Whilst choosing pleasure he slights all the rest. He thinks life's joys complete in these three sorts, To drink and eat, and follow wanton sports; And what besides seems to pretend to pleasure, If it betide him, counts it over measure, we must remember that Socrates said the contrary, to wit: Bad men live that they may eat and drink, whereas good men eat and drink that they may live. And against the man that wrote in this manner, He that designs to encounter with a knave, An equal stock of knavery must have, seeing he herein advises us to follow other vicious examples, that of Diogenes may well be returned, who being asked by what means a man might revenge himself upon his enemy, answered, By becoming himself a good and honest man. And the same Diogenes may be quoted also against Sophocles, who, writing thus of the sacred mysteries, caused great grief and despair to multitudes of men: Most happy they whose eyes are blest to see The mysteries which here contained be, Before they die! For only they have joy In th' other world; the rest all ills annoy. This passage being read to Diogenes, What then! says he, shall the condition of Pataecion, the notorious robber, after death be better than that of Epaminondas, merely for his being initiated in these mysteries? In like manner, when one Timotheus on the theatre, in the praise of the Goddess Artemis, called her furious, raging, possessed, mad, Cinesias presently cried out to him aloud, May thy daughter, Timotheus, be such a Goddess! And witty also was that of Bion to Theognis, who said: One can not say nor do, if poor he be; His tongue is bound to th' peace, as well as he." How comes it to pass then, said he, Theognis, that thou thyself being so poor pratest and gratest our ears in this manner? 

5  Nor are we to omit in our reading those hints which, from some other words or phrases bordering on those that offend us, may help to rectify our apprehensions. But as physicians use cantharides, believing that, though their bodies be deadly poison, yet their feet and wings are medicinal and can even kill the poison of the flies themselves, so must we deal with poems. If any noun or verb near at hand may assist to the correction of any such saying, and preserve us from putting a bad construction upon it, we should take hold of it and employ it to assist a more favorable interpretation. As some do in reference to those verses of Homer: Sorrows and tears most commonly are seen To be the Gods' rewards to wretched men: The Gods, who have no cause themselves to grieve, For wretched man a web of sorrow weave." For, they say, he says not of men simply, or of all men, that the Gods weave for them the fatal web of a sorrowful life; but he affirms it only of foolish and imprudent men, whom, because their vices make them such, he therefore calls wretched and miserable. 

6  Another way whereby those passages which are suspicious in poets may be transferred to a better sense may be taken from the common use of words, which a young man ought indeed to be more exercised in than in the use of strange and obscure terms. For it will be a point of philology which it will not be unpleasant to him to understand, that when he meets with ριγεδανή in a poet, that word signifies an evil death; for the Macedonians use the word δάνος to signify death. So the Aeolians call victory gotten by patient endurance of hardships ϰαμμονίη; and the Dryopians call daemons πόποι. But of all things it is most necessary, and no less profitable if we design to receive profit and not hurt from the poets, that we understand how they make use of the names of Gods, as also of the terms of Evil and Good; and what they mean by Fortune and Fate; and whether these words be always taken by them in one and the same sense or rather in various senses, as also many other words are. For so the word οἰϰος sometimes signifies a material house, as, Into the high-roofed house; and sometimes estate, as, My house is devoured. So the word βίοτος sometimes signifies life, and sometimes wealth. And ἀλύειν is sometimes taken for being uneasy and disquieted in mind, as in Ψς ἔϕαθ' ἡ δ' ἀλύουσ' ἀπεβήσατο, τείρετο δ' αἰνῶς," and elsewhere for boasting and rejoicing, as in Ἢ ἀλύεις, ότι Ἶρον ἐνίκησας τὸν ἀλήτην." In like manner ϑοάζειν signifies either to move, as in Euripides when he saith, Κῆτος ϑοάζον ἐκ Ἀτλαντικῆς ἁλός: or to sit, as in Sophocles when he writes thus, Τίνας πόϑ' ἕδρας τάσδε μοι ϑοάζετε, Ἱκτηρίοις κλάδοισιν ἐξεστεμμένοι. It is elegant also when they adapt to the present matter, as grammarians teach, the use of words which are commonly of another signification. As here: Νῆ' ὀλίγην αἰνεῖν, μεγάη δ' ἐνὶ ϕορτία θέσθαι. For here αἰνεῖν signifies to praise (instead of ἐπαινειν), and to praise is used for to refuse. So in conversation it is common with us to say, ϰαλῶς ἔχει, it is well (i.e., No, I thank you), and to bid any thing fare well (χαίϱειν); by which forms of speech we refuse a thing which we do not want, or receive it not, but still with a civil compliment. So also some say that Proserpina is called ἐπαινή in the notion of παϱαιτητή, to be deprecated, because death is by all men shunned. And the like distinction of words we ought to observe also in things more weighty and serious. To begin with the Gods, we should teach our youth that poets, when they use the names of Gods, sometimes mean properly the Divine Beings so called, but otherwhiles understand by those names certain powers of which the Gods are the donors and authors, they having first led us into the use of them by their own practice. As when Archilochus prays, King Hephaestus, hear thy suppliant, and grant That which thou'rt wont to give and I to want, it is plain that he means the God himself whom he invokes. But when elsewhere he bewails the drowning of his sister's husband, who had not obtained lawful burial, and says, Had Hephaestus his fair limbs to ashes turned, I for his loss had with less passion mourned, he gives the name of Hephaestus to the fire and not to the Deity. Again, Euripides, when he says, No; by great Zeus I swear, enthroned on high, And bloody Mars," means the Gods themselves who bare those names. But when Sophocles saith, Blind Mars doth mortal men's affairs confound, As the swine's snout doth quite deface the ground, we are to understand the word Mars to denote not the God so called, but war. And by the same word we are to understand also weapons made of hardened brass, in those verses of Homer, These are the gallant men whose noble blood Keen Mars did shed near swift Scamander's flood." Wherefore, in conformity to the instances given, we must conceive and bear in mind that by the names of Zeus also sometimes they mean the God himself, sometimes Fortune, and oftentimes also Fate. For when they say: Great Zeus, who from the lofty hill Of Ida govern'st all the world at will;" That wrath which hurled to Pluto's gloomy realm The souls of mighty chiefs: Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Zeus; For who (but who himself too fondly loves) Dares lay his wisdom in the scale with Zeus's? they understand Zeus himself. But when they ascribe the event of all things done to Zeus as the cause, saying of him: Many brave souls to hell Achilles sent, And Zeus's design accomplished in th' event: they mean by Zeus no more but Fate. For the poet doth not conceive that God contrives mischief against mankind, but he soundly declares the mere necessity of the things themselves, to wit, that prosperity and victory are destined by Fate to cities and armies and commanders who govern themselves with sobriety, but if they give way to passions and commit errors, thereby dividing and crumbling themselves into factions, as those of whom the poet speaks did, they do unhandsome actions, and thereby create great disturbances, such as are attended with sad consequences. For to all unadvised acts, in fine, The Fatesunhappy issues do assign. But when Hesiod brings in Prometheus thus counselling his brother Epimetheus, Brother, if Zeus to thee a present make, Take heed that from his hands thou nothing take," he useth the name of Zeus to express Fortune; for he calls the good things which come by her (such as riches, and marriages, and empires, and indeed all external things the enjoyment whereof is unprofitable to them who know not how to use them well) the gifts of Zeus. And therefore he adviseth Epimetheus (an ill man, and a fool withal) to stand in fear of and to guard himself from prosperity, as that which would be hurtful and destructive to him. Again, where he saith, Reproach thou not a man for being poor; His poverty's God's gift, as is thy store," he calls that which befalls men by Fortune God's gift, and intimates that it is an unworthy thing to reproach any man for that poverty which he falls into by Fortune, whereas poverty is then only a matter of disgrace and reproach when it is attendant on sloth and idleness, or wantonness and prodigality. For, before the name of Fortune was used, they knew there was a powerful cause, which moved irregularly and unlimitedly and with such a force that no human reason could avoid it; and this cause they called by the names of Gods. So we are wont to call divers things and qualities and discourses, and even men themselves, divine. And thus may we rectify many such sayings concerning Zeus as would otherwise seem very absurd. As these, for instance: Before Zeus's door two fatal hogsheads, filled With human fortunes, good and bad luck yield: Of violated oaths Zeus took no care, But spitefully both parties crushed by war: To Greeks and Trojans both this was the rise Of mischief, suitable to Zeus's device. These passages we are to interpret as spoken concerning Fortune or Fate, of the causality of both which no account can be given by us, nor do their effects fall under our power. But where any thing is said of Zeus that is suitable, rational, and probable, there we are to conceive that the names of that God is used properly. As in these instances: Through others' ranks he conquering did range, But shunned with Ajax any blows t' exchange; But Zeus's displeasure on him he had brought, Had he with one so much his better fought." For though great matters are Zeus's special care, Small things t' inferior daemons trusted are. And other words there are which the poets remove and translate from their proper sense by accommodation to various things, which deserve also our serious notice. Such a one, for instance, is ἀϱετή, virtue. For because virtue does not only render men prudent, just, and good, both in their words and deeds, but also oftentimes purchaseth to them honor and power, therefore they call likewise these by that name. So we are wont to call both the olive-tree and the fruit ἐλαία, and the oak-tree and its acorn φηγός, communicating the name of the one to the other. Therefore, when our young man reads in the poets such passages as these: This law th' immortal Gods to us have set, That none arrive at virtue but by sweat;" The adverse troops then did the Grecians stout By their mere virtue profligate and rout; If now the Fates determined have our death, To virtue we'll consign our parting breath; let him presently conceive that these things are spoken of that most excellent and divine habit in us which we understand to be no other than right reason, or the highest attainment of the reasonable nature, and most agreeable to the constitution thereof. And again, when he reads this, Of virtue Zeus to one gives more, And lessens, when he lifts, another's store; and this, Virtue and honor upon wealth attend;" let him not sit down in an astonishing admiration of rich men, as if they were enabled by their wealth to purchase virtue, nor let him imagine that it is in the power of Fortune to increase or lessen his own wisdom; but let him conceive that the poet by virtue meant either glory or power or prosperity or something of like import. For poets use the same ambiguity also in the word χαχότης, evil, which sometimes in them properly signifies a wicked and malicious disposition of mind, as in that of Hesiod, Evil is soon acquired; for everywhere There's plenty on't and t'all men's dwellings near;" and sometimes some evil accident or misfortune, as when Homer says, Sore evils, when they haunt us in our prime, Hasten old age on us before our time. So also in the word εὐδαιμονία, he would be sorely deceived who should imagine that, wheresoever he meets with it in poets, it means (as it does in philosophy) a perfect habitual enjoyment of all good things or the leading a life every way agreeable to Nature, and that they do not withal by the abuse of such words call rich men happy or blessed, and power or glory felicity. For, though Homer rightly useth terms of that nature in this passage: Though of such great estates I am possest, Yet with true inward joy I am not blest; and Menander in this: So great's th' estate I am endowed withal: All say I'm rich, but none me happy call; yet Euripides discourseth more confusedly and perplexedly when he writes after this manner: May I ne'er live that grievous blessed life; But tell me, man, why valuest thou so high Th' unjust beatitude of tyranny?" except, as I said, we allow him the use of these words in a metaphorical and abusive sense. But enough hath been spoken of these matters. 

7  Nevertheless, this principle is not once only but often to be inculcated and pressed on young men, that poetry, when it undertakes a fictitious argument by way of imitation, though it make use of such ornament and illustration as suit the actions and manners treated of, yet disclaims not all likelihood of truth, seeing the force of imitation, in order to the persuading of men, lies in probability. Wherefore such imitation as does not altogether shake hands with truth carries along with it certain signs of virtue and vice mixed together in the actions which it doth represent. And of this nature is Homer's poetry, which totally bids adieu to Stoicism, the principles whereof will not admit any vice to come near where virtue is, nor virtue to have any thing to do where any vice lodgeth, but affirms that he that is not a wise man can do nothing well, and he that is so can do nothing amiss. Thus they determine in the schools. But in human actions and the affairs of common life the judgment of Euripides is verified, that Virtue and vice ne'er separately exist, But in the same acts with each other twist." Next, it is to be observed that poetry, waiving the truth of things, does most labor to beautify its fictions with variety and multiplicity of contrivance. For variety bestows upon fable all that is pathetical, unusual, and surprising, and thereby makes it more taking and graceful; whereas what is void of variety is unsuitable to the nature of fable, and so raiseth no passions at all. Upon which design of variety it is, that the poets never represent the same persons always victorious or prosperous or acting with the same constant tenor of virtue; — yea, even the Gods themselves, when they engage in human actions, are not represented as free from passions and errors; — lest, for the want of some difficulties and cross passages, their poems should be destitute of that briskness which is requisite to move and astonish the minds of men. 

8  These things therefore so standing, we should, when we enter a young man into the study of the poets, endeavor to free his mind from that degree of esteem of the good and great personages in them described as may incline him to think them to be mirrors of wisdom and justice, the chief of princes, and the exemplary measures of all virtue and goodness. For he will receive much prejudice, if he shall approve and admire all that comes from such persons as great, if he dislike nothing in them himself, nor will endure to hear others blame them, though for such words and actions as the following passages import: Oh! would to all the immortal powers above, Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Zeus! That not one Trojan might be left alive, And not a Greek of all the race survive. Might only we the vast destruction shun, And only we destroy the accursed town! Her breast all gore, with lamentable cries, The bleeding innocent Cassandra dies, Murdered by Clytemnestra's faithless hand: Lie with thy father's whore, my mother said, That she th' old man may loathe; and I obeyed: Of all the Gods, O father Zeus, there's none Thus given to mischief but thyself alone." Our young man is to be taught not to commend such things as these, no, nor to show the nimbleness of his wit or subtlety in maintaining an argument by finding out plausible colors and pretences to varnish over a bad matter. But we should teach him rather to judge that poetry is an imitation of the manners and lives of such men as are not perfectly pure and unblamable, but such as are tinctured with passions, misled by false opinions, and muffled with ignorance; though oftentimes they may, by the help of a good natural temper, change them for better qualities. For the young man's mind, being thus prepared and disposed, will receive no damage by such passages when he meets with them in poems, but will on the one side be elevated with rapture at those things which are well said or done, and on the other, will not entertain but dislike those which are of a contrary character. But he that admires and is transported with every thing, as having his judgment enslaved by the esteem he hath for the names of heroes, will be unawares wheedled into many evil things, and be guilty of the same folly with those who imitate the crookedness of Plato or the lisping of Aristotle. Neither must he carry himself timorously herein, nor, like a superstitious person in a shrine, tremblingly adore all he meets with; but use himself to such confidence as may enable him openly to pronounce, This was ill or incongruously said, and, That was bravely and gallantly spoken. For example, Achilles in Homer, being offended at the spinning out that war by delays, wherein he was desirous by feats of arms to purchase to himself glory, calls the soldiers together when there was an epidemical disease among them. But having himself some smattering skill in physic, and perceiving after the ninth day, which useth to be decretory in such cases, that the disease was no usual one nor proceeding from ordinary causes, when he stands up to speak, he waives applying himself to the soldiers, and addresseth himself as a councillor to the general, thus: Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore, And measure back the seas we cross'd before?" And he spake well, and with due moderation and decorum. But when the soothsayer Chalcas had told him that he feared the wrath of the most potent among the Grecians, after an oath that while he lived no man should lay violent hands on him, he adds, but not with like wisdom and moderation, Not e'en the chief by whom our hosts are led, The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head; in which speech he declares his low opinion or rather his contempt of his chief commander. And then, being farther provoked, he drew his weapon with a design to kill him, which attempt was neither good nor expedient. And therefore by and by he repented his rashness: He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid; Then in the sheath returned the shining blade; wherein again he did rightly and worthily, in that, though he could not altogether quell his passion, yet he restrained and reduced it under the command of reason, before it brake forth into such an irreparable act of mischief. Again, even Agamemnon himself talks in that assembly ridiculously, but carries himself more gravely and more like a prince in the matter of Chryseis. For whereas Achilles, when his Briseis was taken away from him, In sullenness withdraws from all his friends, And in his tent his time lamenting spends; Agamemnon himself hands into the ship, delivers to her friends, and so sends from him, the woman concerning whom a little before he declared that he loved her better than his wife; and in that action did nothing unbecoming or savoring of fond affection. Also Phoenix, when his father bitterly cursed him for having to do with one that was his own harlot, says, Him in my rage I purposed to have killed, But that my hand some God in kindness held; And minded me that Greeks would taunting say, Lo, here's the man that did his father slay. It is true that Aristarchus was afraid to permit these verses to stand in the poet, and therefore censured them to be expunged. But they were inserted by Homer very aptly to the occasion of Phoenix's instructing Achilles what a pernicious thing anger is, and what foul acts men do by its instigation, while they are capable neither of making use of their own reason nor of hearing the counsel of others. To which end he also introduceth Meleager at first highly offended with his citizens, and afterwards pacified; justly therein reprehending disordered passions, and praising it as a good and profitable thing not to yield to them, but to resist and overcome them, and to repent when one hath been overcome by them. Now in these instances the difference is manifest. But where a like clear judgment cannot be passed, there we are to settle the young man's mind thus, by way of distinction. If Nausicaa, having cast her eyes upon Ulysses, a stranger, and feeling the same passion for him as Calypso had before, did (as one that was ripe for a husband) out of wantonness talk with her maidens at this foolish rate: O Heaven! in my connubial hour decree This man my spouse, or such a spouse as he!" she is blameworthy for her impudence and incontinence. But if; perceiving the man's breeding by his discourse, and admiring the prudence of his addresses, she rather wisheth to have such a one for a husband than a merchant or a dancing gallant of her fellow-citizens, she is to be commended. And when Ulysses is represented as rejoicing at Penelope's jocular conversation with her wooers, and at their presenting her with rich garments and other ornaments, Because she cunningly the fools cajoled, And bartered light words for their heavy gold;" if that joy were occasioned by greediness and covetousness, he discovers himself to be a more sordid prostituter of his own wife than Poliager is wont to be represented on the stage to have been, of whom it is said: Happy man he, whose wife, like Capricorn, Stores him with riches from a golden horn! But if through foresight he thought thereby to get them the more within his power, as being lulled asleep in security for the future by the hopes she gave them at present, this rejoicing, joined with confidence in his wife, was rational. Again, when he is brought in numbering the goods which the Phaeacians had set on shore together with himself and departed; if indeed, being himself left in such a solitude, so ignorant where he was, and having no security there for his own person, he is yet solicitous for his goods, lest The sly Phaeacians, when they stole to sea, Had stolen some part of what they brought away; the covetousness of the man deserved in truth to be pitied, or rather abhorred. But if, as some say in his defence, being doubtful whether or no the place where he was landed were Ithaca, he made use of the just tale of his goods to infer thence the honesty of the Phaeacians, — because it was not likely they would expose him in a strange place and leave him there with his goods by him untouched, so as to get nothing by their dishonesty, — then he makes use of a very fit test for this purpose, and deserves commendation for his wisdom in that action. Some also there are who find fault with that passage of the putting him on shore when he was asleep, if it really so happened, and they tell us that the people of Tyrrhenia have still a traditional story among them concerning Ulysses, that he was naturally sleepy, and therefore a man whom many men could not freely converse with. But if his sleep was but feigned, and he made use of this pretence only of a natural infirmity, by counterfeiting a nap, to hide the strait he was in at that time in his thoughts, betwixt the shame of sending away the Phaeacians without giving them a friendly collation and hospitable gifts, and the fear he had of being discovered to his enemies by the treating such a company of men together, they then approve it. Now, by showing young men these things, we shall preserve them from being carried away to any corruption in their manners, and dispose them to the election and imitation of those that are good, as being before instructed readily to disapprove those and commend these. But this ought with the most care to be done in the reading of tragedies wherein probable and subtle speeches are made use of in the most foul and wicked actions. For that is not always true which Sophoclessaith, that From naughty acts good words can ne'er proceed. For even he himself is wont to apply pleasant reasonings and plausible arguments to those manners and actions which are wicked or unbecoming. And in another of his fellow-tragedians, we may see even Phaedra herself represented as justifying her unlawful affection for Hippolytus by accusing Theseus of ill-carriage towards her. And in his Troad es, he allows Helen the same liberty of speech against Hecuba, whom she judgeth to be more worthy of punishment than herself for her adultery, because she was the mother of Paris that tempted her thereto. A young man therefore must not be accustomed to think any thing of that nature handsomely or wittily spoken, nor to be pleased with such colorable inventions; but rather more to abhor such words as tend to the defence of wanton acts than the very acts themselves. 

9  And lastly, it will be useful likewise to enquire into the cause why each thing is said. For so Cato, when he was a boy, though he was wont to be very observant of all his master's commands, yet withal used to ask the cause or reason why he so commanded. But poets are not to be obeyed as pedagogues and lawgivers are, except they have reason to back what they say. And that they will not want, when they speak well; and if they speak ill, what they say will appear vain and frivolous. But nowadays most young men very briskly demand the reason of such trivial speeches as these, and enquire in what sense they are spoken: It bodes ill luck, when vessels you set up, To place the ladle on the mixing-cup. Who from his chariot to another's leaps, Seldom his seat without a combat keeps." But to those of greater moment they give credence without examination, as to those that follow: The boldest men are daunted oftentimes, When they're reproached with their parents' crimes:" When any man is crushed by adverse fate, His spirit should be low as his estate. And yet such speeches relate to manners, and disquiet men's lives by begetting in them evil opinions and unworthy sentiments, except they have learned to return answer to each of them thus: "Wherefore is it necessary that a man who is crushed by adverse fate should have a dejected spirit? Yea, why rather should he not struggle against Fortune, and raise himself above the pressures of his low circumstances? Why, if I myself be a good and wise son of an evil and foolish father, does it not rather become me to bear myself confidently upon the account of my own virtue, than to be dejected and dispirited because of my father's defects?" For he that can encounter such speeches and oppose them after this manner, not yielding himself up to be overset with the blast of every saying, but approving that speech of Heraclitus, that Whate'er is said, though void of sense and wit, The size of a fool's intellect doth fit, will reject many such things as falsely and idly spoken. 

10  These things therefore may be of use to preserve us from the hurt we might get by the study of poems. Now, as on a vine the fruit oftentimes lies shadowed and hidden under its large leaves and luxuriant branches, so in the poet's phrases and fictions that encompass them there are also many profitable and useful things concealed from the view of young men. This, however, ought not to be suffered; nor should we be led away from things themselves thus, but rather adhere to such of them as tend to the promoting of virtue and the well forming of our manners. It will not be altogether useless therefore, to treat briefly in the next place of passages of that nature. Wherein I intend to touch only at some particulars, leaving all longer discourses, and the trimming up and furnishing them with a multitude of instances, to those who write more for show and ostentation. First, therefore, let our young man be taught to understand good and bad manners and persons, and from thence apply his mind to the words and deeds which the poet decently assigns to either of them. For example, Achilles, though in some wrath, speaks to Agamemnon thus decently: Nor, when we take a Trojan town, can I With thee in spoils and splendid prizes vie;" whereas Thersites to the same person speaks reproachfully in this manner: 'Tis thine whate'er the warrior's breast inflames, The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames. With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow, Thy tents are crowded and thy chests o'erflow. Again, Achilles thus: Whenever, by Zeus's decree, our conquering powers Shall humble to the dust Troy's lofty towers; but Thersites thus: Whom I or some Greek else as captive bring. Again, Diomedes, when Agamemnon taking a view of the army spoke reproachfully to him, To his hard words forbore to make reply, For the respect he bare to majesty; whereas Stenelus, a man of small note, replies on him thus: Sir, when you know the truth, what need to lie? For with our fathers we for valor vie: Now the observation of such difference will teach the young man the decency of a modest and moderate temper, and the unbecoming nauseousness of the contrary vices of boasting and cracking of a man's own worth. And it is worth while also to take notice of the demeanor of Agamemnon in the same passage. For he passeth by Sthenelus unspoken to; but perceiving Ulysses to be offended, he neglects not him, but applies himself to answer him: Struck with his generous wrath, the king replies." For to have apologized to every one had been too servile and misbecoming the dignity of his person; whereas equally to have neglected every one had been an act of insolence and imprudence. And very handsome it is that Diomedes, though in the heat of the battle he answers the king only with silence, yet after the battle was over useth more liberty towards him, speaking thus: You called me coward, sir, before the Greeks. It is expedient also to take notice of the different carriage of a wise man and of a soothsayer popularly courting the multitude. For Chalcas very unseasonably makes no scruple to traduce the king before the people, as having been the cause of the pestilence that was befallen them. But Nestor, intending to bring in a discourse concerning the reconciling Achilles to him, that he might not seem to charge Agamemnon before the multitude with the miscarriage his passion had occasioned, only adviseth him thus: But thou, O king, to council call the old. . . . Wise weighty counsels aid a state distress'd, And such a monarch as can choose the best; which done, accordingly after supper he sends his ambassadors. Now this speech of Nestor tended to the rectifying of what he had before done amiss; but that of Chalcas, only to accuse and disparage him. There is likewise consideration to be had of the different manners of nations, such as these. The Trojans enter into battle with loud outcries and great fierceness; but in the army of the Greeks, Sedate and silent move the numerous bands; No sound, no whisper, but the chief's commands; Those only heard, with awe the rest obey. For when soldiers are about to engage an enemy, the awe they stand in of their officers is an argument both of courage and obedience. For which purpose Plato teacheth us that we ought to inure ourselves to fear blame and disgrace more than labor and danger. And Cato was wont to say that he liked men that were apt to blush better than those that looked pale. Moreover, there is a particular character to be noted of the men who undertake for any action. For Dolon thus promiseth: I'll pass through all their host in a disguise To their flag-ship, where she at anchor lies. But Diomedes promiseth nothing, but only tells them he shall fear the less if they send a companion with him; whereby is intimated, that discreet foresight is Grecian and civil, but rash confidence is barbarous and evil; and the former is therefore to be imitated, and the latter to be avoided. It is a matter too of no unprofitable consideration, how the minds of the Trojans and of Hector too were affected when he and Ajax were about to engage in a single combat. For Aeschylus, when, upon one of the fighters at fisticuffs in the Isthmian games receiving a blow on the face, there was made a great outcry among the people, said: "What a thing is practice! See how the lookers-on only cry out, but the man that received the stroke is silent." But when the poet tells us, that the Greeks rejoiced when they saw Ajax in his glistering armor, but The Trojans' knees for very fear did quake, And even Hector's heart began to ache;" who is there that wonders not at this difference, — when the heart of him that was to run the risk of the combat only beats inwardly, as if he were to undertake a mere wrestling or running match, but the very bodies of the spectators tremble and shake, out of the kindness and fear which they had for their king? In the same poet also we may observe the difference betwixt the humor of a coward and a valiant man. For Thersites Against Achilles a great malice had, And wise Ulysses he did hate as bad; but Ajax is always represented as friendly to Achilles; and particularly he speaks thus to Hector concerning him: Hector! approach my arm, and singly know What strength thou hast, and what the Grecian foe. Achilles shuns the fight; yet some there are Not void of soul, and not unskill'd in war: wherein he insinuates the high commendation of that valiant man. And in what follows, he speaks like handsome things of his fellow-soldiers in general, thus: Whole troops of heroes Greece has yet to boast, And sends thee one, a sample of her host; wherein he doth not boast himself to be the only or the best champion, but one of those, among many others, who were fit to undertake that combat. What hath been said is sufficient upon the point of dissimilitudes; except we think fit to add this, that many of the Trojans came into the enemy's power alive, but none of the Grecians; and that many of the Trojans supplicated to their enemies, — as (for instance) Adrastus, the sons of Antimachus, Lycaon, — and even Hector himself entreats Achilles for a sepulture; but not one of these doth so, as judging it barbarous to supplicate to a foe in the field, and more Greek-like either to conquer or die. 

11  But as, in the same plant, the bee feeds on the flower, the goat on the bud, the hog on the root, and other living creatures on the seed and the fruit; so in reading of poems, one man singleth out the historical part, another dwells upon the elegancy and fit disposal of words, as Aristophanes says of Euripides: His gallant language runs so smooth and round, That I am ravisht with th' harmonious sound;" but others, to whom this part of my discourse is directed, mind only such things as are useful to the bettering of manners. And such we are to put in mind that it is an absurd thing, that those who delight in fables should not let any thing slip them of the vain and extravagant stories they find in poets, and that those who affect language should pass by nothing that is elegantly and floridly expressed; and that only the lovers of honor and virtue, who apply themselves to the study of poems not for delight but for instruction's sake, should slightly and negligently observe what is spoken in them relating to valor, temperance, or justice. Of this nature is the following: And stand we deedless, O eternal shame! Till Hector's arm involve the ships in flame? Haste, let us join, and combat side by side." For to see a man of the greatest wisdom in danger of being totally cut off with all those that take part with him, and yet affected less with fear of death than of shame and dishonor, must needs excite in a young man a passionate affection for virtue. And this, Joyed was the Goddess, for she much did prize A man that was alike both just and wise, teacheth us to infer that the Deity delights not in a rich or a proper or a strong man, but in one that is furnished with wisdom and justice. Again, when the same Goddess (Athena) saith that the reason why she did not desert or neglect Ulysses was that he was Gentle, of ready wit, of prudent mind, she therein tells us that, of all things pertaining to us, nothing is dear to the Gods and divine but our virtue, seeing like naturally delights in like. And seeing, moreover, that it both seemeth and really is a great thing to be able to moderate a man's anger, but a greater by far to guard a man's self beforehand by prudence, that he fall not into it nor be surprised by it, therefore also such passages as tend that way are not slightly to be represented to the readers; for example, that Achilles himself — who was a man of no great forbearance, nor inclined to such meekness — yet warns Priam to be calm and not to provoke him, thus, Move me no more (Achilles thus replies, While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes), Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend: To yield thy Hector I myself intend: Cease; lest, neglectful of high Zeus's command, I show thee, king, thou tread'st on hostile land; and that he himself first washeth and decently covereth the body of Hector and then puts it into a chariot, to prevent his father's seeing it so unworthily mangled as it was: Lest the unhappy sire, Provoked to passion, once more rouse to ire The stern Pelides; and nor sacred age, Nor Zeus's command, should check the rising rage. For it is a piece of admirable prudence for a man so prone to anger, as being by nature hasty and furious, to understand himself so well as to set a guard upon his own inclinations, and by avoiding provocations to keep his passion at due distance by the use of reason, lest he should be unawares surprised by it. And after the same manner must the man that is apt to be drunken forearm himself against that vice; and he that is given to wantonness, against lust, as Agesilaus refused to receive a kiss from a beautiful person addressing to him, and Cyrus would not so much as endure to see Panthea. Whereas, on the contrary, those that are not virtuously bred are wont to gather fuel to inflame their passions, and voluntarily to abandon themselves to those temptations to which of themselves they are endangered. But Ulysses does not only restrain his own anger, but (perceiving by the discourse of his son Telemachus, that through indignation conceived against such evil men he was greatly provoked) he blunts his passion too beforehand, and composeth him to calmness and patience, thus: There, if base scorn insult my reverend age, Bear it, my son! repress thy rising rage. If outraged, cease that outrage to repel; Bear it, my son! howe'er thy heart rebel. For as men are not wont to put bridles on their horses when they are running in full speed, but bring them bridled beforehand to the race; so do they use to preoccupy and predispose the minds of those persons with rational considerations to enable them to encounter passion, whom they perceive to be too mettlesome and unmanageable upon the sight of provoking objects. Furthermore, the young man is not altogether to neglect names themselves when he meets with them; though he is not obliged to give much heed to such idle descants as those of Cleanthes, who, while he professeth himself an interpreter, plays the trifler, as in these passages of Homer: Ζεῦ πάτεϱ Ἴδηθεν μεδέων, and Ζεῦ ἄνα Δωδωναῖε. For he will needs read the last two of these words joined into one, and make them ἀναδωδωναῖε; for that the air evaporated from the earth by exhalation (ἀνάδοσις) is so called. Yea, and Chrysippus too, though he does not so trifle, yet is very jejune, while he hunts after improbable etymologies. As when he will need force the words εὐϱύοπα Κϱονίδην to import Zeus's excellent faculty in speaking and powerfulness to persuade thereby. But such things as these are fitter to be left to the examination of grammarians; and we are rather to insist upon such passages as are both profitable and persuasive. Such, for instance, as these: My early youth was bred to martial pains, My soul impels me to the embattled plains! How skill'd he was in each obliging art; The mildest manners, and the gentlest heart." For while the author tells us that fortitude may be taught, and that an obliging and graceful way of conversing with others is to be gotten by art and the use of reason, he exhorts us not to neglect the improvement of ourselves, but by observing our teachers' instructions to learn a becoming carriage, as knowing that clownishness and cowardice argue ill-breeding and ignorance. And very suitable to what hath been said is that which is said of Zeus and Poseidon: Gods of one source, of one ethereal race, Alike divine, and heaven their native place; But Zeus the greater; first born of the skies, And more than men or Gods supremely wise." For the poet therein pronounceth wisdom to be the most divine and royal quality of all; as placing therein the greatest excellency of Zeus himself, and judging all virtues else to be necessarily consequent thereunto. We are also to accustom a young man attentively to hear such things as these: Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies: And sure he will, for wisdom never lies: The praise of wisdom, in thy youth obtain'd, An act so rash, Antilochus, has stain'd: Say, is it just, my friend, that Hector's ear From such a warrior such a speech should hear? I deemed thee once the wisest of thy kind, But ill this insult suits a prudent mind." These speeches teach us that it is beneath wise men to lie or to deal otherwise than fairly, even in games, or to blame other men without just cause. And when the poet attributes Pindarus's violation of the truce to his folly, he withal declares his judgment that a wise man will not be guilty of an unjust action. The like may we also infer concerning continence, taking our ground for it from these passages: For him Antaea burn'd with lawless flame, And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame: In vain she tempted the relentless youth, Endued with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth: At first, with worthy shame and decent pride, The royal dame his lawless suit denied! For virtue's image yet possessed her mind: in which speeches the poet assigns wisdom to be the cause of continence. And when in exhortations made to encourage soldiers to fight, he speaks in this manner: What mean you, Lycians? Stand! O stand, for shame! Yet each reflect who prizes fame or breath, On endless infamy, on instant death; For, lo! the fated time, the appointed shore; Hark! the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar!" he seems to intimate that continent men are valiant men; because they fear the shame of base actions, and can trample on pleasures and stand their ground in the greatest hazards. Whence Timotheus, in the play called Persae, takes occasion handsomely to exhort the Grecians thus: Brave soldiers of just shame in awe should stand; For the blushing face oft helps the fighting hand. And Aeschylus also makes it a point of wisdom not to be blown up with pride when a man is honored, nor to be moved or elevated with the acclamations of a multitude, writing thus of Amphiaraus: His shield no emblem bears; his generous soul Wishes to be, not to appear, the best; While the deep furrows of his noble mind Harvests of wise and prudent counsel bear." For it is the part of a wise man to value himself upon the consciousness of his own true worth and excellency. Whereas, therefore, all inward perfections are reducible to wisdom, it appears that all sorts of virtue and learning are included in it. 

12  Again, boys may be instructed, by reading the poets as they ought, to draw something that is useful and profitable even from those passages that are most suspected as wicked and absurd; as the bee is taught by Nature to gather the sweetest and most pleasant honey from the harshest flowers and sharpest thorns. It does indeed at the first blush cast a shrewd suspicion on Agamemnon of taking a bribe, when Homer tells us that he discharged that rich man from the wars who presented him with his fleet mare Aethe: Whom rich Echepolus, more rich than brave, To 'scape the wars, to Agamemnon gave (Aethe her name), at home to end his days; Base wealth preferring to eternal praise." Yet, as saith Aristotle, it was well done of him to prefer a good beast before such a man. For, the truth is, a dog or ass is of more value than a timorous and cowardly man that wallows in wealth and luxury. Again, Thetis seems to do indecently, when she exhorts her son to follow his pleasures and minds him of companying with women. But even here, on the other side, the continency of Achilles is worthy to be considered; who, though he dearly loved Briseis — newly returned to him too, — yet, when he knew his life to be near its end, does not hasten to the fruition of pleasures, nor, when he mourns for his friend Patroclus, does he (as most men are wont) shut himself up from all business and neglect his duty, but only bars himself from recreations for his sorrow's sake, while yet he gives himself up to action and military employments. And Archilochus is not praiseworthy either, who, in the midst of his mourning for his sister's husband drowned in the sea, contrives to dispel his grief by drinking and merriment. And yet he gives this plausible reason to justify that practice of his, To drink and dance, rather than mourn, I choose; Nor wrong I him, whom mourning can't reduce. For, if he judged himself to do nothing amiss when he followed sports and banquets, sure, we shall not do worse, if in whatever circumstances we follow the study of philosophy, or manage public affairs, or go to the market or to the Academy, or follow our husbandry. Wherefore those corrections also are not to be rejected which Cleanthes and Antisthenes have made use of. For Antisthenes, seeing the Athenians all in a tumult in the theatre, and justly, upon the pronunciation of this verse: Except what men think base, there's nothing ill," presently subjoined this corrective, What's base is base, — believe men what they will. And Cleanthes, hearing this passage concerning wealth: Great is th' advantage that great wealth attends, For oft with it we purchase health and friends;" presently altered it thus: Great disadvantage oft attends on wealth; We purchase whores with't and destroy our health. And Zeno corrected that of Sophocles, The man that in a tyrant's palace dwells His liberty for's entertainment sells, after this manner: No: if he came in free, he cannot lose His liberty, though in a tyrant's house; meaning by a free man one that is undaunted and magnanimous, and one of a spirit too great to stoop beneath itself. And why may not we also, by some such acclamations as those, call off young men to the better side, by using some things spoken by poets after the same manner? For example, it is said, 'Tis all that in this life one can require, To hit the mark he aims at in desire. To which we may reply thus: 'Tis false; except one level his desire At what's expedient, and no more require. For it is an unhappy thing and not to be wished, for a man to obtain and be master of what he desires if it be inexpedient. Again this saying, Thou, Agamemnon, must thyself prepare Of joy and grief by turns to take thy share: Thy father, Atreus, sure, ne'er thee begat, To be an unchanged favorite of Fate: we may thus invert: Thy father, Atreus, never thee begat, To be an unchanged favorite of Fate: Therefore, if moderate thy fortunes are, Thou shouldst rejoice always, and grief forbear. Again it is said, Alas! this ill comes from the powers divine, That oft we see what's good, yet it decline." Yea, rather, say we, it is a brutish and irrational and wretched fault of ours, that when we understand better things, we are carried away to the pursuit of those which are worse, through our intemperance and effeminacy. Again, one says, 'Tis not the teacher's speech but practice moves." Yea, rather, say we, both the speech and practice, — or the practice by the means of speech, — as the horse is managed with the bridle, and the ship with the helm. For virtue hath no instrument so suitable and agreeable to human nature to work on men withal, as that of rational discourse. Again, we meet with this character of some person: A. Is he more prone to male or female loves? B. He's flexible both ways, where beauty moves. But it had been better said thus: He's flexible to both, where virtue moves. For it is no commendation of a man's dexterity to be tossed up and down as pleasure and beauty move him, but an argument rather of a weak and unstable disposition. Once more, this speech, Religion damps the courage of our minds, And ev'n wise men to cowardice inclines, is by no means to be allowed; but rather the contrary, Religion truly fortifies men's minds, And a wise man to valiant acts inclines, and gives not occasion of fear to any but weak and foolish persons and such as are ungrateful to the Deity, who are apt to look on that divine power and principle which is the cause of all good with suspicion and jealousy, as being hurtful unto them. And so much for that which I call correction of poets' sayings. 

13  There is yet another way of improving poems, taught us well by Chrysippus; which is, by accommodation of any saying, to transfer that which is useful and serviceable in it to divers things of the same kind. For whereas Hesiod saith, If but a cow be lost, the common fame Upon the next ill neighbor lays the blame;" the same may be applied to a man's dog or ass or any other beast of his which is liable to the like mischance. Again, Euripides saith, How can that man be called a slave, who slights Ev'n death itself, which servile spirits frights? the like whereof may be said of hard labor or painful sickness. For as physicians, finding by experience the force of any medicine in the cure of some one disease, make use of it by accommodation, proportionably to every other disease of affinity thereto, so are we to deal with such speeches as are of a common import and apt to communicate their value to other things; we must not confine them to that one thing only to which they were at first adapted, but transfer them to all other of like nature, and accustom young men by many parallel instances to see the communicableness of them, and exercise the promptness of their wits in such applications. So that when Menander says, Happy is he who wealth and wisdom hath, they may be able to judge that the same is fitly applicable to glory and authority and eloquence also. And the reproof which Ulysses gives Achilles, when he found him sitting in Scyrus in the apartment of the young ladies, Thou, who from noblest Greeks deriv'st thy race, Dost thou with spinning wool thy birth disgrace? may be as well given to the prodigal, to him that undertakes any dishonest way of living, yea, to the slothful and unlearned person, thus: Thou, who from noblest Greeks deriv'st thy race, Dost thou with fuddling thy great birth disgrace? or dost thou spend thy time in dicing, or quail-striking, or deal in adulterate wares or griping usury, not minding any thing that is great and worthy thy noble extraction? So when they read, For Wealth, the God most serve, I little care, Since the worst men his favors often wear," they may be able to infer, therefore, as little regard is to be had to glory and bodily beauty and princely robes and priestly garlands, all which also we see to be the enjoyments of very bad men. Again, when they read this passage, A coward father propagates his vice, And gets a son heir to his cowardice, they may in truth apply the same to intemperance, to superstition, to envy, and all other diseases of men's minds. Again, whereas it is handsomely said of Homer, Unhappy Paris, fairest to behold! and Hector, of noble form, for herein he shows that a man who hath no greater excellency than that of beauty to commend him deserves to have it mentioned with contempt and ignominy, — such expressions we should make use of in like cases to repress the insolence of such as bear themselves high upon the account of such things as are of no real value, and to teach young men to look upon such compellations as "O thou richest of men," and "O thou that excellest in feasting, in multitudes of attendants, in herds of cattle, yea, and in eloquent speaking itself," to be (as they are indeed) expressions that import reproach and infamy. For, in truth, a man that designs to excel ought to endeavor it in those things that are in themselves most excellent, and to become chief in the chiefest, and great in the greatest things. Whereas glory that ariseth from things in themselves small and inconsiderable is inglorious and contemptible. To mind us whereof we shall never be at a loss for instances, if, in reading Homer especially, we observe how he applieth the expressions that import praise or disgrace; wherein we have clear proof that he makes small account of the good things either of the body or Fortune. And first of all, in meetings and salutations, men do not call others fair or rich or strong, but use such terms of commendation as these: Son of Laertes, from great Zeusderiving Thy pedigree, and skilled in wise contriving; Hector, thou son of Priam, whose advice With wisest Zeus's men count of equal price; Achilles, son of Peleus, whom all story Shall mention as the Grecians' greatest glory; Divine Patroclus, for thy worth thou art, Of all the friends I have, lodged next my heart." And moreover, when they speak disgracefully of any person, they touch not at bodily defects, but direct all their reproaches to vicious actions; as for instance: A dogged-looking, drunken beast thou art, And in thy bosom hast a deer's faint heart; Ajax, at brawling valiant still, Whose tongue is used to speaking ill; A tongue so loose hung, and so vain withal, Idomeneus, becomes thee not at all; Ajax, thy tongue doth oft offend; For of thy boasting there's no end." Lastly, when Ulyssesreproacheth Thersites, he objecteth not to him his lameness nor his baldness nor his hunched back, but the vicious quality of indiscreet babbling. On the other side, when Hera means to express a dalliance or motherly fondness to her son Hephaestus, she courts him with an epithet taken from his halting, thus, Rouse thee, my limping son!" In this instance, Homer does (as it were) deride those who are ashamed of their lameness or blindness, as not thinking any thing a disgrace that is not in itself disgraceful, nor any person liable to a reproach for that which is not imputable to himself but to Fortune. These two great advantages may be made by those who frequently study poets; — the learning moderation, to keep them from unseasonable and foolish reproaching others with their misfortunes, when they themselves enjoy a constant current of prosperity; and magnanimity, that under variety of accidents they be not dejected nor disturbed, but meekly bear the being scoffed at, reproached, and drolled upon. Especially, let them have that saying of Philemon ready at hand in such cases: That spirit's well in tune, whose sweet repose No railer's tongue can ever discompose. And yet, if one that so rails do himself deserve reprehension, thou mayst take occasion to retort upon him his own vices and inordinate passions; as when Adrastus in the tragedy is assaulted thus by Alcmaeon, Thy sister's one that did her husband kill, he returns him this answer, But thou thyself thy mother's blood did spill. For as they who scourge a man's garments do not touch the body, so those that turn other men's evil fortunes or mean births to matter of reproach do only with vanity and folly enough lash their external circumstances, but touch not their internal part, the soul, nor those things which truly need correction and reproof. 

14  Moreover, as we have above taught you to abate and lessen the credit of evil and hurtful poems by setting in opposition to them the famous speeches and sentences of such worthy men as have managed public affairs, so will it be useful to us, where we find any things in them of civil and profitable import, to improve and strengthen them by testimonies and proofs taken from philosophers, withal giving these the credit of being the first inventors of them. For this is both just and profitable to be done, seeing by this means such sayings receive an additional strength and esteem, when it appears that what is spoken on the stage or sung to the harp or occurs in a scholar's lesson is agreeable to the doctrines of Pythagoras and Plato, and that the sentences of Chilo and Bias tend to the same issue with those that are found in the authors which children read. Therefore must we industriously show them that these poetical sentences, Not these, O daughter, are thy proper cares, Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms; To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms; Zeus's angry with thee, when thy unmanaged rage With those that overmatch thee doth engage;" differ not in substance but bear plainly the same sense with that philosophical sentence, Know thyself. And these, Fools, who by wrong seek to augment their store, And know not how much half than all is more; Of counsel giv'n to mischievous intents, The man that gives it most of all repents;" are of near kin to what we find in the determination of Plato, in his books entitled Gorgias and Concerning the Commonwealth, to wit, that it is worse to do than to suffer injury, and that a man more endamageth himself when he hurts another, than he would be damnified if he were the sufferer. And that of Aeschylus, Cheer up, friend; sorrows, when they highest climb, What they exceed in measure want in time, we must inform them, is but the same famous sentence which is so much admired in Epicurus, that great griefs are but short, and those that are of long continuance are but small. The former clause whereof is that which Aeschylushere saith expressly, and the latter but the consequent of that. For if a great and intense sorrow do not last, then that which doth last is not great nor hard to be borne. And those words of Thespis, Seest not how Zeus, — because he cannot lie Nor vaunt nor laugh at impious drollery, And pleasure's charms are things to him unknown: Among the Gods wears the imperial crown? wherein differ they from what Plato says, that the divine nature is seated far from both joy and grief? And that saying of Bacchylides, Virtue alone doth lasting honor gain, But men of wretched souls oft wealth attain; and those of Euripides much of the same import, Hence temperance in my esteem excels, Because it constantly with good men dwells; How much soe'er to honor thou aspire, And strive by riches virtue to acquire, Still shall thy lot to good men wretched seem; do they not evidently confirm to us what the philosophers say of riches and other external good things, that without virtue they are fruitless and unprofitable enjoyments? Now thus to accommodate and reconcile poetry to the doctrines of philosophy strips it of its fabulous and personated parts, and makes those things which it delivers usefully to acquire also the reputation of gravity; and over and above, it inclines the soul of a young man to receive the impressions of philosophical precepts. For he will hereby be enabled to come to them not altogether destitute of some sort of relish of them, not as to things that he has heard nothing of before, nor with an head confusedly full of the false notions which he hath sucked in from the daily tattle of his mother and nurse, — yea, sometimes too of his father and pedant, — who have been wont to speak of rich men as the happy men and mention them always with honor, and to express themselves concerning death and pain with horror, and to look on virtue without riches and glory as a thing of nought and not to be desired. Whence it comes to pass, that when such youths first do hear things of a quite contrary nature from philosophers, they are surprised with a kind of amazement, trouble, and stupid astonishment, which makes them afraid to entertain or endure them, except they be dealt with as those who come out of very great darkness into the light of the bright sun, that is, be first accustomed for a while to behold those doctrines in fabulous authors, as in a kind of false light, which hath but a moderate brightness and is easy to be looked on and borne without disturbance to the weak sight. For having before heard or read from poets such things as these are: Mourn at one's birth, as th' inlet t' all that grieves; But joy at death, as that which man relieves; Of worldly things a mortal needs but twain; The spring supplies his drink, the earth his grain: O tyranny, to barbarous nations dear! This in all human happiness is chief, To know as little as we can of grief;" they are the less disturbed and offended when they hear from philosophers that no man ought to be much concerned about death; that the riches of nature are defined and limited; that the happiness of man's life doth not consist in the abundance of wealth or vastness of employments or height of authority and power, but in freedom from sorrow, in moderation of passions, and in such a temper of mind as measures all things by the use of Nature. Wherefore, upon all these accounts, as well as for all the reasons before mentioned, youth stands in need of good government to manage it in the reading of poetry, that being free from all prejudicate opinions, and rather instructed beforehand in conformity thereunto, it may with more calmness, friendliness, and familiarity pass from thence to the study of philosophy. 

1  The Introduction. I Have sent, Nicander, the reflections of some spare hours concerning Hearing, digested into the following short essay, that being out of the hands of governors and come to man's estate, you may know how to pay a proper attention to those who would advise you. For that libertinism which some wild young fellows, for want of more happy education, mistake for liberty, subjects them to harder tyrants than their late tutors and masters, even to their own vicious inclinations, which, as it were, break loose upon them. And as Herodotus observes of women, that they put off modesty with their shift, so some young men lay aside with the badges of minority all the sense of shame or fear, and divested of the garment of modesty which sat so well upon them are covered with insolence. But you, who have often heard that to follow God and to obey reason are all one, cannot but believe that men of best sense in passing from minority to manhood do not throw off the government, but simply change their governor. In the room of some mercenary pedant, they receive that divine guide and governor of human life, reason, under whose subjection alone men are properly said to live in freedom. For they only live at their own will who have learned to will as they ought; and that freedom of will which appears in unconstrained appetites and unreasonable actions is mean and narrow, and accompanied with much repentance. 

2  For as newly naturalized citizens who were entire strangers and aliens are apt to disrelish many administrations of the government; while those who have previously lived in the country, bred up under the constitution and acquainted with it, act without difficulty in their several stations, well satisfied with their condition; in like manner, a man should for a long time have been bred up in philosophy, and accustomed from his earliest years to receive his lessons and instruction mingled with philosophic reason, that so he may come at last as a kind and familiar friend to philosophy, which alone can array young men in the perfect manly robes and ornaments of reason. Therefore, I believe, some directions concerning hearing will not be ill received by you. 
Remarks about Hearing in general. Of this Theophrastus affirms, that it is the most sensitive of all the senses. For the several objects of sight, tasting, and feeling do not excite in us so great disturbances and alterations as the sudden and frightful noises which assault us only at the ears. Yet in reality this sense is more rational than sensitive. For there are many organs and other parts of the body which serve as avenues and inlets to the soul to give admission to vice; there is but one passage of virtue into young minds, and that is by the ears, provided they be preserved all along free from the corruptions of flattery and untainted with lewd discourses. For this reason Xenocrates was of opinion that children ought to have a defence fitted to their ears rather than fencers or prize-players, because the ears only of the latter suffered by the blows, but the morals of the former were hurt and maimed by words. Not that he thereby recommended deafness, or forbade that they should be suffered to hear at all; but he advised only that debauchery might be kept out, till better principles, like so many guardians appointed by philosophy, had taken charge of that part which is so liable to be drawn aside and corrupted by discourse. And Biasof old, being ordered by Amasis to send him the best and withal the worst part of the sacrifice, sent the tongue; because the greatest benefits and disadvantages are derived to us thereby. Thus again many diverting themselves with children touch their ears, bidding them return the like again; by which they seem to intimate to them that such best deserve their love and esteem whose obligations enter at the ears. This is evident, that he that has lain fallow all his days, without tasting instruction, will not only prove barren and unfruitful of virtue, but very inclinable to vice; for an uncultivated mind, like untilled ground, will soon be overrun with weeds. For if that violent propensity of the mind to pleasure, and jealousy of all that carries any show of pain, — which proceed not from external causes or received prejudices, but are the natural springs of evil affections and infinite diseases of the mind, — are suffered to take their course, and not restrained, or diverted some other way by wholesome instructions, there can be no beast so savage that it may not be called tame and civilized in respect of such a man. 

3  More General Rules about Hearing 
Since then it appears that hearing is of so great use and no less danger to young men, I think it a very commendable thing for such a one to reflect continually with himself, and consult often with others, how he may hear with benefit. And in this particular we may observe many to have been mistaken, that they practise speaking before they have been used enough to hearing. Speaking they think will require some study and attention, but hearing cannot be a thing of any difficulty. Those indeed who play the game of tennis learn at the same time how to throw and how to catch the ball; but in the exercise of the tongue, we ought to practise how to talk well before we pretend to return, as conception and retention of the foetus precede childbirth. When fowls let fall windeggs, it is usually said that they are the rudiments of imperfect fruits which will never quicken and have life; and when young men either hear not at all or retain not what they hear, their discourse comes from them altogether as useless and full of wind, And vain and unregarded turns to air. In filling one vessel from another, they take care to incline and turn it so that nothing be spilled, and that it may be really filling and not emptying; but they think it not worth the heeding to regulate their attention and apply themselves with advantage to a speaker, that nothing of importance may fall beside or escape them. Yet, what is beyond comparison ridiculous, if they happen upon any one who has a knack at describing an entertainment or a show, or can relate his dream well, or give an handsome account of a quarrel between himself and another, such a one they hear with the greatest attention, they court him to proceed, and importune him for every circumstance. Whereas, let another call them about him for any thing useful, to exhort to what is decent or reprehend what is irregular, or to make up a quarrel, they have not temper enough to away with it, but they fight with all their might to put him down by argument, if they are able, or if not, they haste away to more agreeable fopperies; as if their ears, like faulty earthen vessels, might be filled with any thing but what is useful or valuable. But as jockeys take great care in breeding horses to bring them to rein right and endure the bit, so such as have the care of educating children should breed them to endure hearing, by allowing them to speak little and hear much. And Spintharus, speaking in commendation of Epaminondas, says he scarce ever met with any man who knew more and spoke less. Some again make the observation, that Nature has given every man two ears and but one tongue, as a secret intimation that he ought to speak less than he hears. 

4  Directions concerning Attention. 
Well then, silence is at all times a singular ornament of a youth, but especially if he does not interrupt the speaker nor carp and except at every thing he says, but patiently expects the conclusion, though his discourse be none of the best; and when he has done, if he does not presently come over him with an objection, but (as Aeschinesdirects) allows time to add, if he please, to what has been said, or to alter, or retract. Whereas such as turn too suddenly upon a speaker neither hear nor are heard themselves, but senselessly chatter to one another, and sin against the laws and rules of decorum. But he that brings along with him a modest and unwearied attention has this advantage, that whatever is beneficial in the discourse he makes his own, and he more readily discovers what is false or impertinent, appearing all the while a friend to truth rather than to squabbling or rashness. Therefore it was not ill said, that such as design to infuse goodness into the minds of youth must first exclude thence pride and self-conceit more carefully than we squeeze air out of bladders which we wish to fill with something useful; because, while they are puffed up with arrogance, there is no room to admit any thing else. 

5  Thus again, envy and detraction and prejudice are in no case good, but always a great impediment to what is so; yet nowhere worse than when they are made the bosom-friends and counsellers of a hearer, because they represent the best things to him as unpleasant and impertinent, and men in such circumstances are pleased with any thing rather than what deserves their applause. Yet he that grieves at the wealth, glory, or beauty of any is but simply envious, for he repines only at the good of others; but he that is ill-natured to a good speaker is an enemy to his own happiness. For discourse to an hearer, like light to the eye, is a great benefit, if he will make the best use of it. Envy in all other instances carries this pretence with it, that it is to be referred to the depraved and ungovernable affections of the mind, but that which is conceived against a speaker arises from an unjust presumption and vain-glorious affectation of praise. In such a case, the man has not leisure to attend to what he hears; his soul is in continual hurry and disturbance, at one time examining her own habits and endowments, if any way inferior to the speaker; anon, watching the behavior and inclination of others, if inclined to praise or admire his discourse; disordered at the praise and enraged at the company, if he meet with any encouragement. She easily lets slip and willingly forgets what has been said, because the remembrance is a pain and vexation to her; she hears what is to come with a great deal of uneasiness and concern, and is never so desirous that the speaker should hasten to an end, as when he discourses best. After all is over, she considers not what was said, but has respect only to the common vogue and disposition of the audience; she avoids and flies like one distracted such as seem to be pleased, and herds among the censorious and perverse. If she finds nothing to pervert, then she puts forward other speakers, who (as she asserts) have spoken better and with greater force of argument on the same subject. Thus, by abusing and corrupting what was said, she defeats the use and effect of it on herself. 

6  He therefore who comes to hear must for the time come to a kind of truce and accommodation with vain-glory, and preserve the same evenness and cheerfulness of humor he would bring with him if he were invited to a festival entertainment or the first-fruits' sacrifice, applauding the orator's power when he speaks to the purpose, and where he fails receiving kindly his readiness to communicate what he knows and to persuade others by what wrought upon himself. Where he comes off with success, he must not impute it to chance or peradventure, but attribute all to study and diligence and art, not only admiring but studiously emulating the like; where he has done amiss, he must pry curiously into the causes and origin of the mistake. For what Xenophon says of discreet house keepers, that they make an advantage of their enemies as well as their friends, is in some sort true of vigilant and attentive hearers, who reap no less benefit from an ill than a good orator. For the meanness and poverty of a thought, the emptiness and flatness of an expression, the unseasonableness of a figure, and the impertinence of falling into a foolish ecstasy of joy or commendation, and the like, are better discovered by a by-stander than by the speaker himself. Therefore his oversight or indiscretion must be brought home to ourselves, that we may examine if nothing of the same kind has skulled there and imposed on us all the while. For there is nothing in the world more easy than to discover the faults of others; but it is done to no effect if we do not make it useful to ourselves in correcting and avoiding the like failures. When therefore you animadvert upon other men's miscarriages, forget not to put that question of Plato to yourself, Am not I such another? We must trace out our own way of writing in the discourses of other men, as in another's eyes we see the reflection of our own; that we may learn not to be too free in censuring others, and may use more circumspection ourselves in speaking. To this design the following method of comparison may be very instrumental; if upon our return from hearing we take what seemed to us not well or sufficiently handled, and attempt it afresh ourselves, endeavoring to fill out one part or correct another, to vary this or model that into a new form from the very beginning. And thus Plato examined the oration of Lysias. For it is a thing of no great difficulty to raise objections against another man's oration, — nay, it is a very easy matter, — but to produce a better in its place is a work extremely troublesome; as the Spartan, who was told Philip had demolished the city Olynthus, made this reply, But he cannot raise such another. When then it appears, upon handling the same topic, that we do not much excel those who undertook it before, this will abate much of our censorious humor, and our pride and self-conceit will be exposed and checked by such comparisons. Caution about Admiration. 

7  To contempt is opposed admiration, which indeed argues a more candid and better disposition; but even in this case no small care is to be observed, and perhaps even greater. For although such as are contemptuous and self-conceited receive but little good from what they hear, yet the good-natured and such as are given to admire every thing take a great deal of harm. And Heraclitus was not mistaken when he said that a fool was put in a flutter at every thing he heard. We ought indeed to use all the candor imaginable in praising the speaker, yet withal as great caution in yielding our assent to what he says; to look upon his expression and action with a favorable construction, but to inspect the usefulness and truth of his doctrine with the nicest and most critical judgment; that speakers may cease to be malicious, and that what they say may do no mischief. For many false and dangerous principles steal upon us through the authority of the speaker and our own credulity. The Spartan Ephors, approving the judgment of one of an ill conversation, ordered it to be communicated to the people by a person of better life and reputation; thereby wisely and politicly using them to give more deference to the morals than to the words of such as pretend to advise them. But now in philosophy the reputation of the speaker must be pulled off, and his words examined naked and without a mask; for in hearing as in war there are many false alarms. The hoary head of the speaker or his gesture, his magisterial look or his assuming pride, and above all the noise and clapping of the auditory, bear great sway with a raw and inexperienced hearer, who is easily carried away with the tide. The very expression, if sweet and full and representing things with some pomp and greatness, has a secret power to impose upon us. For, as many lapses in such as sing to an instrument escape the hearers, so luxuriancy and pomp of style dazzle the hearer so that he cannot see clearly the argument in hand. And Melanthius, as it is said, being asked his opinion concerning a tragedy of Diogenes, made answer that the words intercepted his sight of it. But most Sophists in their declamations and speeches not only make use of words to veil and muffle their design; but with affected tone and softness of voice they draw aside and bewitch their followers, for the empty pleasure which they create reaping a more empty glory. So that the saying of Dionysius is very applicable to them, who, being one day extremely pleased with an harper that played excellently well before him, promised the fellow a great reward, yet afterwards would give him nothing, pretending he had kept his word; For, said he, as long as you pleased me by your playing, so long were you pleased by hope of the reward. And such also is the reward this kind of harangues bring to the authors. The hearers admire as long as they are pleased and tickled, but the satisfaction on one hand and glory on the other conclude with the oration; and the hearers lose their time idly, and the speakers their whole life. How to separate the Useful Part of a Discourse. 

8  No, we must separate the trash and trumpery of an oration, that we may come at the more fruitful and useful part; not imitating those women who busy themselves in gathering nosegays and making garlands, but the more useful industry of bees. The former indeed plat and weave together the sweetest and gayest flowers, and their skill is mighty pretty; but it lasts for one day only, and even then is of little or no use; whereas the bees, passing by the beds of violets and roses and hyacinth, fix on the prickly and biting thyme, and settle upon this "intent on the yellow honey," and taking thence what they need for their work, they fly home laden. In like manner, a well-meaning sincere hearer ought to pass by the flowers of an oration, leaving the gaudy show and theatrical part to entertain dronish Sophists; and, diving into the very mind of the speaker and the sense of his speech, he must draw thence what is necessary for his own service; remembering withal that he is not come to the theatre or music-meeting, but is present at the schools and auditories of philosophy, to learn to rectify his way of life by what he hears. In order thereunto, he ought to inspect diligently and try faithfully the state and temper of his mind after hearing, if any of his affections are more moderate, if any afflictions grow lighter, if his constancy and greatness of spirit are confirmed, if he feels any divine emotions or inward workings of virtue and goodness upon his soul. For it becomes us but ill, when we rise from the barber's chair, to be so long in consulting the mirror, or to stroke our heads and examine so curiously the style in which our hair is trimmed and dressed, and then, at our return from hearing in the schools, to think it needless to look into ourselves, or examine whether our own mind has discharged any turbulent or unprofitable affections and is grown more sedate and serene. For, as Ariston was wont to say, The bath and a discourse are of no use unless they are purgative. 

9  Let then a young man be pleased and entertained with a discourse; but let him not make his pleasure the only end of hearing, nor think he may come from the school of a philosopher singing and sportive; nor let him call for perfumes and essences when he has need of a poultice and fomentations. But let him learn to be thankful to him that purges away the darkness and stupidity of his mind, though (as we clear beehives by smoking) with an offensive or unpalatable discourse. For though it lies upon a speaker to take some care that his expression be pleasing and plausible, yet a hearer ought not to make that the first thing he looks after. Afterward, indeed, when he has satisfied his appetite with the substance and has taken breath, he may be allowed the curiosity of examining the style and expression, whether it has any thing delicate or extraordinary; as men quench their thirst before they have time to admire the embossing of the bowl. But now such a one as is not intent on the subject-matter, but demands merely that the style shall be plain and pure Attic, is much of his foolish humor who refuses an antidote unless it be mixed in Attic porcelain, or who will not put on a coat in the winter because the cloth is not made of Attic wool; but who can yet sit still, doing nothing and stirring not, under such a thin and threadbare cloak as an oration of Lysias. That extreme dearth of judgment and good sense, and that abundance of subtilty and sophistry which is crept into the schools, is all owing to these corruptions of the youngsters; who, observing neither the lives nor public conversation of philosophers, mind nothing but words and jingle, and express themselves extravagantly upon what they think well said, without ever understanding or enquiring if it be useful and necessary, or needless and vain. Of asking Questions. 

10  After this, it will be convenient to lay down some directions touching asking of questions. For it is true, he that comes to a great collation must eat what is set before him, not rudely calling for what is not to be had nor finding fault with the provision. But he that is invited to partake of a discourse, if it be with that proviso, must hear with silence; for such disagreeable hearers as occasion digressions by asking impertinent questions and starting foolish doubts are an hindrance both to the speaker and the discourse, without benefiting themselves. But when the speaker encourages them to propose their objections, he must take care that the question be of some consequence The suitors in Homer scorned and derided Ulysses. To no brave prize aspired the worthless swain, 'Twas but for scraps he asked, and asked in vain," because they thought it required a great and heroic soul no less to ask than to bestow great gifts. But there is much better reason to slight and laugh at such a hearer as can please himself in asking little trifling questions. Thus some young fellows, to proclaim their smattering in logic and mathematics, upon all occasions enquire about the divisibility of the infinite, or about motion through a diagonal or upon the sides. But we may answer them with Philotimus, who, being asked by a consumptive phthisical person for a remedy against a whitlow, and perceiving the condition he was in by his color and his shortness of breath, replied, Sir, you have no reason to be apprehensive of that. So we must tell them, You have no reason, young gentlemen, to trouble yourselves about these questions; but how to shake off your conceit and arrogance, to have done with your intrigues and fopperies, and to settle immediately upon a modest and well-governed course of life, is the question for you. 

11  Great regard is to be had also to the genius and talent of a speaker, that we may enquire about such things as are in his way, and not take him out of his knowledge; as if one should propose physical or mathematical queries to a moral philosophy reader, or apply himself to one who prides himself on his knowledge of physics to give his opinion on conditional propositions or to resolve a fallacy in logic. For, as he that goes about to cleave wood with a key or to unlock a door with an axe does not so much misemploy those instruments as deprive himself of the proper use of them, so such as are not content with what a speaker offers them, but call for such things as he is a stranger to, not only are disappointed, but incur the suspicion of malice and ill-nature. 

12  Be cautious also how you ask questions yourself, or ask too often; for that betrays somewhat of conceit and ostentation. But to wait civilly while another proposes his scruples argues a studious spirit and willingness that others should be informed, unless some sudden perturbation of mind require to be repressed or some distemper to be assuaged. For perhaps, as Heraclitus says, it is an ill thing to conceal even a man's ignorance; it must be laid open, that the remedy may be applied. So also if anger or superstition or a violent quarrel with your domestics or the mad passion of love: Which doth the very heart-strings move, That ne'er were stirred before, excite any commotion in your mind, you are not, for fear of being galled by reproof, to fly to such as are treating of other arguments; but you must frequent those places where your particular case is stating, and after lecture address yourself privately to the speaker for better information and fuller satisfaction therein. On the contrary, men commonly flatter themselves, and admire the philosopher so long as he discourses of indifferent things; but if he come home to themselves and deal freely with them about their real interests, this they think is beyond all enduring, or at best a needless piece of supererogation. For they naturally think that they ought to hear philosophy in the schools, like actors on the stage, while in matters out of the school they believe them to be no better men than themselves; and, to confess the truth, they have but reason to think so of many Sophists, who, having once left the desk and laid aside their books, in the serious concerns of human life are utterly insignificant and even more ignorant than the vulgar. But they do not know that even the austerity or raillery of real philosophers, their very nod or look, their smile or frown, and especially their admonitions directed to particular persons, are of weighty importance to such as can brook or attend to them. Directions concerning Praising. 

13  As for commendation, some caution and mean is to be observed in it; because to be either deficient or excessive in that particular shows a base spirit. He is but a morose and rigid hearer whom no part of an oration can work upon or move, one who is full of a secret presumptuous opinion of himself, and of an inbred conceit that he could do better things himself; one who dares not alter his countenance as occasion requires, or let fall the least word to testify his good wishes, but with silence and affected gravity hunts after the reputation of a sagacious and profound person, and thinks that all the praise is lost to himself which he bestows on others, as if it were money. For many wrest that sentence of Pythagoras, who used to say that he had learned by philosophy to admire nothing; but these men think that to admire nobody and to honor nobody consists in despising everybody, and they aim at seeming grave by being contemptuous. Philosophy indeed removes that foolish admiration and surprise which proceeds from doubt or ignorance, by laying open to us the causes of things, but endeavors not to destroy all good-nature and humanity. And those who are truly good take it for their greatest honor and commendation to be just in paying honor and commendation where it is due to others; and for a man to adorn another is a most glorious ornament, proceeding from a generous abundance of glory and honor in himself; while those who are niggardly in praising others only betray how poor and bare they are of praises at home. Not to be too prone to commend: Yet to use no consideration at all, but to stand up and make a clamor at every word or syllable, is to offend in the other extreme. Such fluttering fellows for the most part oblige not the speakers themselves, and are always a plague and common grievance to the hearers, exciting them many times against their inclination, and forcing them for very shame to join in the tumult. In the end, he that raised the disturbance receives no benefit by the discourse, but goes away with the character of a scoffer or flatterer or novice. A judge, it is true, ought to hear and determine without favor or ill-will, regarding only what is just and equitable; but in philosophical proceedings the case is altered, where neither law nor oaths tie us up from being favorable to the speaker. And the ancients established Hermes with the Graces, intimating that orators ought to find a propitious and good-natured audience. For they thought it passed all belief, that any man could prove so much a blockhead or come so wide of the purpose, that, though he should make no remarks of his own and quote none of others worthy taking notice of, or though the argument and design of his discourse might not be commendable, yet at least the order and disposition or the style should not deserve some applause; As oft amidst the furze and thorny brakes The tender violets more securely peep. For if some have undertaken successfully to speak in commendation of vomiting or a fever, and have even made an encomium on a porridge-pot not without some acceptance, certainly a discourse from one that has the least pretence to philosophy cannot but afford some opportunity, though it be a slight one, for commendation to a well-disposed auditory. Platosays that all who are in their bloom in some way excite the amorous man; — the fair are the children of the Gods, the black are manly, the hook-nosed have a look of majesty, the flat-nose gives a graceful air, even the sallow complexion is complimented for looking like honey; in spite of all their defects, he cherishes and loves them all. Thus love, like ivy, must needs find something or other to lay hold on. But much more will a studious hearer and scholar be sure to find some not unworthy reason for praising every speaker. For Plato in an oration of Lysias, disliking the invention and utterly condemning the disposition as confused, yet praised the style and elocution, because every word was wrought off cleverly and cleanly turned. Thus a man may see cause enough to disapprove the argument of Archilochus, the verse of Parmenides, the poverty of Phocylides, the eternal talk of Euripides, and inequality of style in Sophocles; and among the orators, one has no manner, another is not moving, a third has nothing of ornament; yet every one has his peculiar power of moving and exciting, for which he is praised. Some again do not require of us to testify our acceptance by the voice; a pleasing eye or cheerful look, or a behavior without any thing of pain or uneasiness, is all that they desire. For the following favors are nowadays bestowed of course upon every oration, though the speaker may speak to no purpose at all, — sitting modestly without lolling from one side to the other, looking earnestly on the speaker, in the posture of an attentive listener, and with a countenance which betrays not only no contempt or illwill but not even a mind otherwise employed. For as the beauty and excellence of every thing consists in the concurrence of many different accidents, which contribute to the symmetry and harmony of the whole, so that, if but one inconsiderable part be away or absurdly added, de formity immediately follows; in like manner, not only a supercilious look or forbidding mien or roving eyes or waving the body to and fro or indecent crossing of the legs, but even a nod, a whisper to another, a scornful smile, a sleepy yawn, hanging of the head, or the like, are all likewise great indecorums and to be avoided with particular care. 

14  Yet some there are who can assign a speaker his part, and think no duty incumbent on themselves all the while; who will have him prepare and premeditate what he has to deliver, and yet throw themselves into an auditory without any preparation or consideration, as if they were invited to a feast, to revel and take their pleasures at another's cost. Yet it is known that even a guest has some things required of him to make him suitable and agreeable, and certainly a hearer has much more; because he ought to be a sharer in the discourse and an assistant to the speaker. Neither will it become him to be severe at all turns upon every slight miscarriage or perpetually putting the speaker's elocution and action to the test, while he himself is guilty of grosser enormities in hearing, without danger or control. But as at tennis he that takes the ball turns and winds his body according to the motion of the server, so a kind of proportion is to be observed between the speaker and the hearer, if both will discharge their several duties. Care to be observed in Praising Persons of all Qualities. 

15  Neither ought we to use any expressions of praise indifferently. For it is an ill thing which Epicurus relates, that, upon reading any epistles from his friends, those about him broke out into tumultuous applauses; and such as daily introduce new forms into our auditories, as Divinely said! Superhuman! Inimitable! (as if those used by Plato, Socrates, and Hyperides, Well! Wisely! Truly said! were not sufficiently expressive), exceed the bounds of decency and modesty, nay indeed, do but affront the speaker, as though he were fond of such extravagant praises. Nor are they less odious and troublesome who confirm approbation with impertinent oaths, as if they were giving their testimony for a speaker in a court of judicature. And so likewise is it with such as observe not to give just deference to the quality of persons, who to a philosopher are apt to cry out, Smartly said! or to a reverend gentleman, Wittily! Floridly! applying to philosophy such trifles as are proper to scholastic exercises and declamations, and giving meretricious applause to a sober discourse, — as if a man should compliment the conqueror in the Olympic games with a garland of lilies or roses, instead of laurel or wild olive. Euripides the poet one day at a rehearsal instructing the chorus in a part that was set to a serious air, one of the company unexpectedly fell out a laughing; Sir, said he, unless you were very stupid and insensible, you could not laugh while I sing in the grave mixolydian mood. In like manner a master of philosophy and politics may put a stop to the unseasonable levity and pertness of a youngster, by telling him, You seem to be a madman and unacquainted with all manner of civility, otherwise you would not hum over your tunes or practise your new steps while I am discoursing of Gods, or the laws, or the supreme magistrate. For consider seriously what a very scandalous thing it is that, while a philosopher is in his discourse, the passengers in the street, from the clamor and hooting of the hearers, should have reason to make it a question whether some piper or harper or morris-dancer were got in among them. Of bearing Admonitions and Reproofs. 

16  Admonitions and reprimands ought to be taken neither altogether insensibly nor yet sheepishly. For such as carry off a disgrace from a philosopher carelessly and without due concern, so as to grin at his reprehensions or scoffingly to praise him for them, as sharping parasites applaud the scurrilous reflection of their cullies, — such, I say, are shameless and insolent, and betray only their invincible impudence, which is no good or true argument of courage. Yet to bear handsomely without passion an innocent jest in raillery is not unbecoming the breeding of a gentleman, but a good accomplishment and altogether worthy of a Spartan. But when an exhortation to amendment of manners, like a bitter potion, is made up of harsh and unpleasant words, in such a case for a youth — instead of hearing submissively and running into a sweat or being seized with dizziness, when the mind is on fire with shame and confusion — to remain unmoved or sneer or dissemble his concernment is the certain sign of a dissolute and ill-bred man, one whose soul, like callous flesh, being hardened with a course of debauchery, will receive no scar or impression. Some young men indeed there are of a contrary disposition, who having undergone one rebuke fly off without ever looking back, turn renegades, and quite desert philosophy. These being naturally very modest have a good disposition toward an healthful habit of mind, but vitiate it by too much tenderness and effeminacy, which disables them for bearing a reproof or manfully submitting to a correction, and run after more pleasing harangues, wherewith some flatterers and sophists soothe and bewitch them, without any benefit or advantage. For as he that flies from the surgeon after incision, and will not suffer the ligature to be applied, endures that part of his skill only which is painful, rejecting what would give him ease; so such a one as being lanced and scarified by a sharp oration has not patience till the wound be skinned over, goes away from philosophy tortured and harassed, without that benefit he might receive thereby. For not only Telephus's wound was cured by rusty filings of the spear (as Euripides has it), but whatever pain philosophy may occasion to a meek disposition will be cured and removed by the same discourse that gave the wound. He therefore that is reprehended must endure awhile and away with some pain, not presently be discouraged or out of heart. Let him behave himself as though he were to be initiated into the mysteries of philosophy, still hoping, after the lustrations and more troublesome ceremonies are undergone, he shall enjoy some considerable effect of his present troubles and inconveniences. Or suppose he be wrongfully chidden, it is but handsome to expect the conclusion; after that he may make his defence, and desire that such freedom and violence may be reserved to repress some other misdemeanor which really deserves it. The Difficulties in Philosophy vincible. 

17  But besides this, — as in grammar, music, and the exercises of activity, there are many things which to young beginners appear troublesome, laborious, and obscure, which yet a fuller knowledge, like acquaintance among men, makes more agreeable, ready, and feasible, — in like manner, though philosophy in its first terms and notions may seem uncouth and strange, yet a man must not be so far discouraged at the first elements as to throw it up altogether, but he must bid at all and ply his business hard and patiently expect that acquaintance which will make all easy and pleasant; and that will not be long in coming, bringing great light into things and exciting ardent affections to virtue; without which to endure to live, after one has through his own effeminacy fallen from philosophy, is an argument of a mean spirit and servile disposition. I must confess there is some difficulty in the things themselves which is not easily conquered by raw and unexperienced beginners; yet the greatest part of the difficulty they bring upon themselves by their own ignorance and inadvertency, falling into the same error from two contrary causes. For some, out of a foolish bashfulness and desire to be easy to the speaker, are loath to be inquisitive or have the thing made plain to them, and so they nod their assent to every thing that is said, as if they fully comprehended it. And others out of unseasonable vain-glory, and vying with their fellows that they may vaunt their readiness of wit and quickness of apprehension, pretend to understand things before they do, and never understand them at all. Now the consequence in both cases is this; the modest go away in a great deal of anxiety and doubt, and are forced in the end, with greater disgrace, to interrupt the speaker to be informed again; and the vain-glorious are troubled to keep close and conceal the ignorance they carry about them. 

18  Therefore all such sheepishness and self-conceit being set aside, let us learn to lay up in our minds whatever is usefully said, enduring to be laughed at by such as set up for wits and railers. This course took Cleanthes and Xenocrates, who being somewhat slower than their fellows did not therefore give over hearing or despond; but prevented the jests of others, by comparing themselves to narrow-mouthed vessels and to copper plates; because, though they received learning with some difficulty, yet they retained it surely. For he that will be a good man must not only, as Phocylides says: Expect much fraud, and many a time be caught: but be laughed at and disgraced, and endure many scurrilous and virulent reflections; he must also encounter ignorance and wrestle with it with all the strength of his mind, and subdue it too. Neither on the other hand must the faults be passed by which some troublesome people commit out of mere laziness and negligence; such men as will not bestow any pains in considering themselves, but asking often the same questions are a perpetual vexation to the speaker; like callow birds always gaping at the bill of the old one, and still reaching after what has been prepared and worked over by others. Another sort there are, who, affecting the reputation of quickness and attention, confound the speaker with their pragmatical curiosity and jargon, always haling in something unnecessary and requiring demonstrations of things foreign to the business in hand. Thus a short way is long and tedious made, as Sophocles says, and that not only to themselves, but others also. For by taking off the speaker with vain and unnecessary questions they retard the progress of instruction, like travellers in the road, by impertinent halts and stops. Hieronymus compares these men to lazy and greedy curs, which within doors bite and tear the skins of wild animals and lie tugging at their shaggy hair, but in the field dare not fasten upon beasts themselves. A Concluding Exhortation. Yet one exhortation let me leave with these people, that having received the general heads of things they would supply the rest by their own industry, making their memory a guide to their invention; and that, looking on the discourse of others only as a kind of first principle or seed, they would take care to cherish and increase it. For the mind requires not like an earthen vessel to be filled up; convenient fuel and aliment only will inflame it with a desire of knowledge and ardent love of truth. Now, as it would be with a man who, going to his neighbor's to borrow fire and finding there a great and bright fire, should sit down to warm himself and forget to go home; so is it with the one who comes to another to learn, if he does not think himself obliged to kindle his own fire within and inflame his own mind, but continues sitting by his master as if he were enchanted, delighted by hearing. Such a one, although he may get the name of a philosopher, as we get a bright color by sitting by the fire, will never clear away the mould and rust of his mind, and dispel the darkness of his understanding by the help of philosophy. In fine, if there is any other precept concerning hearing, it is briefly this, to be careful in observing the last exhortation, — that is, to join the exercise of our invention to our hearing; that so, while we lay down the rule that hearing well is the first step to living well, we may not content ourselves with a superficial commonplace knowledge, but endeavor after such a philosophical habit as shall be deeply imprinted on the mind. 

1  TO ANTIOCHUS PHILOPAPPUS. 
Plato is of opinion that it is very pardonable in a man to acknowledge that he has any extraordinary passion for himself; and yet the humor is attended with this ill consequent, besides several others, that it renders us incapable of making a right judgment of ourselves. For our affections usually blind our discerning faculties, unless we have learned to raise them above the sordid level of things congenial and familiar to us, to those which are truly noble and excellent in themselves. And hence it is that we are so frequently exposed to the attempts of a parasite, under the disguise and vizard of a friend. For self-love, that grand flatterer within, willingly entertains another from without, who will but soothe up and second the man in the good opinions he has conceived of himself. For he who deservedly lies under the character of one that loves to be flattered is doubtless sufficiently fond of himself: and through abundance of complaisance to his own person, not only wishes but thinks himself master of all those perfections which may recommend him to others. And though indeed it be laudable enough to covet such accomplishments, yet is it altogether unsafe for any man to fancy them inherent in him. Now, if truth be a ray of the divinity, as Plato says it is, and the source of all the good that derives upon either Gods or men, then certainly the flatterer must be looked upon as a public enemy to all the Gods, and especially to Apollo; for he always acts counter to that celebrated oracle of his, Know thyself, endeavoring to make every man his own cheat, by keeping him ignorant of the good and ill qualities that are in him; whereupon the good never arrive at perfection, and the ill grow incorrigible. 

2  Did flattery, indeed, as most other misfortunes do, generally or altogether wait on the debauched and ignoble part of mankind, the mischief were of less consequence, and might admit of an easier prevention. But, as worms breed most in sweet and tender woods, so usually the most obliging, the most brave and generous tempers readiliest receive and longest entertain the flattering insect that hangs and grows upon them. And since, to use Simonides's expression, it is not for persons of a narrow fortune, but for gentlemen of estates, to keep a good stable of horses; so never saw we flattery the attendant of the poor, the inglorious and inconsiderable plebeian, but of the grandees of the world, the distemper and bane of great families and affairs, the plague in kings' chambers, and the ruin of their kingdoms. Therefore it is a business of no small importance, and one which requires no ordinary circumspection, so to be able to know a flatterer in every shape he assumes, that the counterfeit resemblance some time or other bring not true friendship itself into suspicion and disrepute. For parasites, — like lice, which desert a dying man, whose palled and vapid blood can feed them no longer, — never intermix in dry and insipid business where there is nothing to be got; but prey upon a noble quarry, the ministers of state and potentates of the earth, and afterwards lousily shirk off, if the greatness of their fortune chance to leave them. But it will not be wisdom in us to stay till such fatal junctures, and then try the experiment, which will not only be useless but dangerous and hurtful; for it is a deplorable thing for a man to find himself then destitute of friends, when he most wants them, and has no opportunity either of exchanging his false and faithless friend for a fast and honest one. And therefore we should rather try our friend, as we do our money, whether or not he be passable and current, before we need him. For it is not enough to discover the cheat to our cost, but we must so understand the flatterer, that he put no cheat upon us; otherwise we should act like those who must needs take poison to know its strength, and foolishly hazard their lives to inform their judgment. And as we cannot approve of this carelessness, so neither can we of that too scrupulous humor of those who, taking the measures of true friendship only from the bare honesty and usefulness of the man, immediately suspect a pleasant and easy conversation for a cheat. For a friend is not a dull tasteless thing, nor does the decorum of friendship consist in sourness and austerity of temper, but its very port and gravity is soft and amiable: Where Love and all the Graces do reside." For it is not only a comfort to the afflicted, To enjoy the courtesy of his kindest friend," as Euripides speaks; but friendship extends itself to both fortunes, as well brightens and adorns prosperity as allays the sorrows that attend adversity. And as Evenus used to say that fire makes the best sauce, so friendship, wherewith God has seasoned the circumstances of our mortality, gives a relish to every condition, renders them all easy, sweet, and agreeable enough. And indeed, did not the laws of friendship admit of a little pleasantry and good humor, why should the parasite insinuate himself under that disguise? And yet he, as counterfeit gold imitates the brightness and lustre of the true, always puts on the easiness and freedom of a friend, is always pleasant and obliging, and ready to comply with the humor of his company. And therefore it is no way reasonable either, to look upon every just character that is given us as a piece of flattery; for certainly a due and seasonable commendation is as much the duty of one friend to another as a pertinent and serious reprehension; nay indeed, a sour querulous temper is perfectly repugnant to the laws of friendship and conversation; whereas a man takes a chiding patiently from a friend who is as ready to praise his virtues as to animadvert upon his vices, willingly persuading himself that mere necessity obliged him to reprimand, whom kindness had first moved to commend. 

3  Why then, some may say, it is infinitely difficult at this rate to distinguish a flatterer from a friend, since there is no apparent difference either betwixt the satisfaction they create or the praises they bestow. Nay, it is observable, that a parasite is frequently more obsequious and obliging than a friend himself. Well, the way then to discover the disparity? Why, I will tell you; if you would learn the character of a true subtle flatterer, who nicks his point secundum artem, you must not, with the vulgar, mistake those sordid smell-feasts and poor trencherslaves for your men, who begin to prate as soon as they have washed their hands in order to dinner, as one says of them, and ere they are well warmed with a good cut of the first dish and a glass of wine, betray the narrow soul that acts them by the nauseous and fulsome buffoonery they vent at table. For sure it needed no great sagacity to detect the flattery of Melanthius, the parasite of Alexander of Pherae, who, being asked how his master was murdered, made answer, With a thrust which went in at his side, but into my belly. Nor must we, again, confine our notions of flatterers to those sharping fellows who ply about rich men's tables, whom neither fire nor sword nor porter can keep from supper; nor yet to such as were those female parasites of Cyprus, who going into Syria were nick-named Steps, because they cringed so to the great ladies of that country that they mounted their chariots on their backs. 

4  Well, but after all, who is this flatterer then, whom we ought so industriously to avoid? I answer: He who neither professes nor seems to flatter; who never haunts your kitchen, is never observed to watch the dial that he may nick your supper-time; who won't drink to excess, but will keep his brains about him; who is prying and inquisitive, would mix in your business, and wind himself into your secrets: in short, he who acts the friend, not with the air of a comedian or a satirist, but with the port and gravity of a tragedian. For, as Plato says, It is the height of injustice to appear just and be really a knave. So are we to look upon those flatterers as most dangerous who walk not barefaced but in disguise, who make no sport but mind their business; for these often personate the true and sincere friend so exactly, that it is enough to make him fall under the like suspicion of a cheat, unless we be extremely curious in remarking the difference betwixt them. It is storied of Gobryas (one of the Persian nobility, who joined with Darius against the Magi), that he pursued one of them into a dark room, and there fell upon him; during the scuffle Darius came in and drew upon the enemy, but durst not push at him, lest perhaps he might wound his confederate Gobryas with the thrust; whereupon Gobryas bade him, rather than fail, run both through together. But since we can by no means admit of that vulgar saying, Let my friend perish, so my enemy perish with him, but had rather still endeavor at the discovery of a parasite from a friend, notwithstanding the nearness of the resemblance, we ought to use our utmost care, lest at any time we indifferently reject the good with the bad, or unadvisedly retain the bad with the good, the friend and flatterer together. For as those wild grains which usually grow up with wheat, and are of the same figure and bigness with it, are not easily winnowed from it, — for they either cannot pass through the holes of the sieve, if narrow, or pass together with the wheat, if larger, — so is it infinitely difficult to distinguish flattery from friendship, because the one so exquisitely mixes with all the passions, humors, interests, and inclinations of the other. 

5  Now because the enjoyment of a friend is attended with the greatest satisfaction incident to humanity, therefore the flatterer always endeavors to entrap us by rendering his conversation highly pleasant and agreeable. Again, because all acts of kindness and mutual beneficence are the constant attendants upon true friendship (on which account we usually say, A friend is more necessary than fire or water), therefore the flatterer is ready upon every occasion to obtrude his service upon you, and will with an indefatigable bustle and zeal seek to oblige you if he can. In the next place, the parasite observes that all true friendship takes its origin from a concurrence of like humors and inclinations, and that the same passions, the same aversions and desires, are the first cement of a true and lasting friendship. He therefore composes his nature, like unformed matter, striving to fit and adapt it by imitation to the person on whom he designs, that it may be pliant and yielding to any impression that he shall think fit to stamp upon it; and, in fine, he so neatly resembles the original, that one would swear: Sure thou the very Achilles art, and not his son. But the most exquisite fineness of a flatterer consists in his imitation of that freedom of discourse which friends particularly use in mutually reprehending each other. For finding that men usually take it for what it really is, the natural language of friendship, as peculiar to it as certain notes or voices are to certain animals, and that, on the contrary, a shy sheepish reservedness looks both rude and unfriendly, he lets not even this proper character of a friend escape his imitation. But as skilful cooks use to correct luscious meats with sharp and poignant sauce, that they may not be so apt to overcharge the stomach; so he seasons his flattery now and then with a little smartness and severity, lest the fulsomeness of repeated dissimulation should pall and cloy the company. And yet his reprehensions always carry something in them that looks not true and genuine; he seems to do it, but with a kind of a sneering and grinning countenance at the best; and though his reproofs may possibly tickle the ear, yet they never strike effectually upon the heart. On these accounts then it is as difficult to discern a flatterer from a friend, as to know those animals again which always wear the livery of the last thing they touch upon. And therefore, since he puts so easily upon us under the disguise and appearance of a friend, it will be our business at present to unmask the hypocrite, and show him in other men's shapes and colors, as Plato speaks, since he has none properly his own. 

6  Well then, let us enquire regularly into this affair. We have already asserted, that friendship generally takes its rise from a conformity of tempers and dispositions, whereby different persons come to have the same taste of the like humors, customs, studies, exercises, and employs, as these following verses import: Old men with old, and boys with boys agree; And women's clack with women's company. Men that are crazy, full of sores and pain, Loveto diseased persons to complain. And they who labor under adverse fate, Tell their sad stories to th' unfortunate. The flatterer then, observing how congenial it is to our natures to delight in the conversation of those who are, as it were, the counterpart of ourselves, makes his first approaches to our affections at this avenue, where he gradually advances (like one making towards a wild beast in a pasture, with a design to tame and bring it to hand) by accommodating himself to the same studies, business, and color of life with the person upon whom he designs, till at last the latter gives him an opportunity to catch him, and becomes tractable by the man who strokes him. All this while the flatterer falls foul upon those courses of life, persons, and things he perceives his cully to disapprove, and again as extravagantly commends those he is pleased to honor with his approbation, still persuading him that his choice and dislike are the results of a solid and discerning judgment and not of passion. 

7  Well, then, by what signs or tokens shall we be able to know this counterfeit copy of ourselves from a true and genuine likeness? In the first place, we must accurately remark upon the whole tenor of his life and conversation, whether or not the resemblance he pretends to the original be of any continuance, natural and easy, and all of a piece; whether he square his actions according to any one steady and uniform model, as becomes an ingenuous lover of conversation and friendship, which is all of one thread, and still like itself; for this is a true friend indeed. But the flatterer, who has no principles in him, and leads not a life properly his own, but forms and moulds it according to the various humors and caprices of those he designs to bubble, is never one and the same man, but a mere dapple or trimmer, who changes shapes with his company, like water that always turns and winds itself into the figure of the channel through which it flows. Apes, it seems, are usually caught by their antic mimicry of the motions and gesticulations of men; and yet the men themselves are trepanned by the same craft of imitation in a flatterer, who adapts himself to their several humors, fencing and wrestling with one, singing and dancing with another. If he is in chase of a spark that delights in a pack of dogs, he follows him at the heels, hollowing almost like Phaedra, O what a pleasure 'tis, ye Gods, to wind The shrill-mouthed horn and chase the dappled hind;" and yet the hunter himself is the game he designs for the toils. If he be in pursuit of some bookish young gentleman, then he is always a poring, he nourishes his reverend beard down to his heels, wears a tattered cloak, affects the careless indifference of a philosopher, and can now discourse of nothing under Plato's triangles and rectangles. If he chance to fall into the acquaintance of a drunken, idle debauchee who has got an estate, Then sly Ulysses throws away his rags," puts off his long robe, mows down his fruitless crop of beard, drinks briskly, laughs modishly on the walks, and drolls handsomely upon the philosophical fops of the town. And thus, they say, it happened at Syracuse; for when Platofirst arrived there and Dionysius was wonderfully hot upon the study of philosophy, all the areas in the king's palace were full of nothing but dust and sand, by reason of the great concourse of geometricians who came to draw their figures and demonstrate there. But no sooner was Plato in disgrace at court, and Dionysius finally fallen from philosophy to wine and women, trifles and intemperance, than learning fell into a general disrepute, and the whole body of the people, as if bewitched by some Circe or other, became universally stupid, idle, and infatuated. Besides this, I appeal to the practices of men notorious for flattery and popularity to back my observation. Witness he who topped them all, Alcibiades, who, when he dwelt at Athens, was as arch and witty as any Athenian of them all, kept his stable of horses, played the good fellow, and was universally obliging; and yet the same man at Spartashaved close to the skin, wore his cloak, and never bathed but in cold water. When he sojourned in Thrace, he drank and fought like a Thracian; and again, in Tissaphernes's company in Asia, he acted the part of a soft, arrogant, and voluptuous Asiatic. And thus, by an easy compliance with the humors and customs of the people amongst whom he conversed, he made himself master of their affections and interests. So did not the brave Epaminondas nor Agesilaus, who, though they had to do with great variety of men and manners, and cities of vastly different politics, were still the same men, and everywhere, through the whole circle of their conversation, maintained a port and character worthy of themselves. And so was Plato the same man at Syracuse that he was in the Academy, the same in Dionysius's court that he was in Dion's. 

8  But he who will take the pains to act the dissembler himself, by interchangeably decrying and extolling the same things, discourses, and ways of living, will easily perceive that the opinions of a flatterer are as mutable and inconstant as the colors of a polypus, that he is never consonant to himself nor properly his own man; that all his passions, his love and hatred, his joy and sorrow, are borrowed and counterfeit; and that, in a word, like a mirror, he only receives and represents the several faces or images of other men's affections and humors. Do but discommend one of your acquaintance a little in his company, and he will tell you it is a wonder you never found him out all this while, for his part he never fancied him in his life. Change but your style and commend him, he presently swears you oblige him in it, gives you a thousand thanks for the gentleman's sake, and believes your character of him to be just. Tell him you have thoughts of altering your course of life, as for instance, to retire from all public employs to privacy and ease; he immediately wishes that he had retreated long ago from the hurry and drudgery of business and the odium that attends it. Seem but again inclinable to an active life; Why now, says he, you speak like yourself; leisure and ease are sweet, it is true, but withal mean and inglorious. When you have thus trepanned him, it would be proper to cashier him with some such reply as this: How now, my friend! What, quite another man!" I abhor a fellow who servilely complies with whatsoever I propose, and keeps pace with me in all my motions, — my shadow can do that better than yourself, — but my friend must deal plainly and impartially, and assist me faithfully with his judgment. And thus you see one way of discerning a flatterer from a friend. 

9  Another difference observable betwixt them in the resemblance they bear to each other is, that a true friend will not rashly commend nor imitate every thing, but only what really deserves it; for, as Sophocles says, He shares with him his loves, but not his hates," and will scorn to bear any part with him in any base and dishonorable actions, unless, as people sometimes catch blear eyes, he may chance insensibly to contract some ill habit or other by the very contagion of familiarity and conversation. Thus they say Plato's acquaintance learned his stoop, Aristotle's his lisp, and Alexander's the inclination of his neck and the rapidity of his speech. For some persons, ere they are aware, get a touch of the humors and infirmities of those with whom they converse. But now as a true friend endeavors only to copy the fairest originals, so, on the contrary, the flatterer, like the chameleon, which puts on all colors but the innocent white, being unable to reach those strokes of virtue which are worth his imitation, takes care that no failure or imperfection escape him. As unskilful painters, when they cannot hit the features and air of a face, content themselves with the faint resemblance in a wrinkle, a wart, or a scar, so he takes up with his friend's intemperance, superstition, cholericness, severity to his servants, distrust of his relations and domestics or the like. For, besides that a natural propensity to evil inclines him always to follow the worst examples, he imagines his assuming other men's vices will best secure him from the suspicion of being disaffected towards them; for their fidelity is often suspected who seem dissatisfied with faults and wish a reformation. Which very thing lost Dion in the good opinion of Dionysius, Samius in Philip's, Cleomenes in Ptolemy's, and at last proved the occasion of their ruin. And therefore the flatterer pretends not only to the good humor of a companion, but to the faithfulness of a friend too, and would be thought to have so great a respect for you that he cannot be disgusted at the very worst of your actions, being indeed of the same make and constitution with yourself. Hence you shall have him pretend a share in the most common casualties that befall another, nay, in complaisance, feign even diseases themselves. In company of those who are thick of hearing, he is presently half deaf, and with the dim-sighted can see no more than they do. So the parasites about Dionysius at an entertainment, to humor his blindness, stumbled one upon another and jostled the dishes off his table. But there are others who refine upon the former by a pretended fellow-suffering in the more private concernments of life, whereby they wriggle themselves deeper into the affections of those they flatter; as, if they find a man unhappily married, or distrustful of his children or domestics, they spare not their own family, but immediately entertain you with some lamentable story of the hard fortune they have met with in their children, their wife, their servants, or relations. For, by the parallel circumstances they pretend to, they seem more passionately concerned for the misfortunes of their friends, who, as if they had already received some pawn and assurance of their fidelity, blab forth those secrets which they cannot afterwards handsomely retract, and dare not betray the least distrust of their new confidant for the future. I myself knew a man who turned his wife out of doors because a gentleman of his acquaintance divorced his, though the latter lady smelt the intrigue afterwards by the messages the flatterer sent to his wife after the pretended divorce and the private visits he was observed to make her. So little did he understand the flatterer who took these following verses for the description of a crab rather than his: The shapeless thing's all over paunch and gut: Who can the monster's mighty hunger glut? It crawls on teeth, and with a watchful eye Does into every secret corner pry. For this is the true portraiture of those sharpers, who, as Eupolis speaks, sponge upon their acquaintance for a dinner. 

10  But we will reserve these remarks for a more proper place. In the mean time I must not omit the other artifice observable in his imitation, which is this: that if at any time he counterfeit the good qualities of his friend, he immediately yields him the pre-eminence; whereas there is no competition, no emulation or envy amongst true friends, but whether they are equally accomplished or not, they bear the same even unconcerned temper of mind towards each other. But the flatterer, remembering that he is but to act another's part, pretends only to such strokes as fall short of the original, and is willing to confess himself outdone in any thing but his vices, wherein alone he claims the precedency to himself; as, if the man he is to wheedle be difficult and morose, he is quite overrun with choler; if something superstitious, he is a perfect enthusiast; if a little in love, for his part he is most desperately smitten. I laughed heartily at such a passage, says one; But I had like to have died with laughter, says the other. But now in speaking of any laudable qualities, he inverts his style; as, I can run fast enough, says he, but you perfectly fly. I can sit an horse tolerably well, but alas! what's that to this Hippocentaur for good horsemanship? I have a tolerable good genius for poetry, and am none of the worst versifiers of the age; But thunder is the language of you Gods, not mine. And thus at the same time he obliges his friend both in approving of his abilities by his owning of them, and in confessing him incomparable in his way by himself coming short of his example. These then are the distinguishing characters of a friend and flatterer, as far as concerns the counterfeit resemblance betwixt them. 

11  But because, as we have before observed, it is common to them both to please (for a good man is no less taken with the company of his friends than an ill one is with a flatterer's), let us discriminate them here too. And the way will be to have an eye to the end to which they direct the satisfaction they create, which may be thus illustrated. Your perfumed oils have a fine odoriferous scent, and so, it may be, have some medicines too; but with this difference, that the former are prepared barely for the gratification of the sense, whilst the other, besides their odor, purge, heal, and fatten. Again, the colors used by painters are certainly very florid and the mixture agreeable; and yet so it is in some medicinal compositions too. Wherein then lies the difference? Why, in the end or use for which they are designed, the one purely for pleasure the other for profit. In like manner the civilities of one friend to another, besides the main point of their honesty and mutual advantage, are always attended with an overplus of delight and satisfaction. Nay, they can now and then indulge themselves the liberty of an innocent diversion, a collation, or a glass of wine, and, believe me, can be as cheerful and jocund as the best; all which they use only as sauce, to give a relish to the more serious and weighty concernments of life. To which purpose was that of the poet, With pleasing chat they did delight each other; as likewise this too, Nothing could part our pleasure or our love." But the whole business and design of a flatterer is continually to entertain the company with some pastime or other, a little jest, a story well told, or a comical action; and, in a word, he thinks he can never overact the diverting part of conversation. Whereas the true friend, proposing no other end to himself than the bare discharge of his duty, is sometimes pleasant, and as often, it may be, disagreeable, neither solicitously coveting the one, nor industriously avoiding the other, if he judge it the more seasonable and expedient. For as a physician, if need require, will throw in a little saffron or spikenard to qualify his patient's dose, and will now and then bathe him and feed him up curiously, and yet again another time will prescribe him castor, Or poley, which the strongest scent doth yield Of all the physic plants which clothe the field, or perhaps will oblige him to drink an infusion of hellebore, — proposing neither the deliciousness of the one nor the nauseousness of the other as his scope and design, but only conducting him by these different methods to one and the same end, the recovery of his health, — in like manner the real friend sometimes leads his man gently on to virtue by kindness, by pleasing and extolling him, as he in Homer, Dear Teucer, thou who art in high command, Thus draw the bow with thy unerring hand; and as another speaking of Ulysses, How can I doubt, while great Ulysses stands To lend his counsel and assist our hands? and again, when he sees correction requisite, he will check him severely, as, Whither, O Menelaus, wouldst thou run, And tempt a fate which prudence bids thee shun?" and perhaps he is forced another time to second his words with actions, as Menedemus reclaimed his friend Asclepiades's son, a dissolute and debauched young gentleman, by shutting his doors upon him and not vouchsafing to speak to him. And Arcesilaus forbade Battus his school for having abused Cleanthes in a comedy of his, but after he had made satisfaction and an acknowledgment of his fault, took him into favor again. For we ought to grieve and afflict our friend with design merely of serving him, not of making a rupture betwixt us, and must apply our reprehensions only as pungent and acute medicines, with no other intent than the recovery of the patient. And therefore a friend — like a skilful musician who, to tune his instrument, winds up one string and lets down another — grants some things and refuses others according as their honesty or usefulness prompt him, whereby he often pleases, but is sure always to profit; whereas the parasite, who is continually upon the same humoring string, knows not how to let fall a cross word or commit a disobliging action, but servilely complies with all your desires, and is always in the tune you ask for. And therefore, as Xenophon reports of Agesilaus that he took some delight in being praised by those who would upon occasion dispraise him too, so ought we to judge that only he rejoices and pleases us really as a friend, who will, when need requires, thwart and contradict us; we must suspect their conversation who aim at nothing but our gratification, without the least intermixture of reprehension; and indeed we ought to have ready upon such occasions that repartee of a Lacedemonian who, hearing King Charillus highly extolled for an excellent person, asked, How he could be so good a man, who was never severe to an ill one? 

12  They tell us that gad-flies creep into the ears of bulls, and ticks into those of dogs. But I am sure the parasite lays so close siege and sticks so fast to the ears of the ambitious with the repeated praises of their worth, that it is no easy matter to shake him off again. And therefore it highly concerns them to have their apprehensions awake and upon the guard, critically to remark whether the high characters such men lavish out are intended for the person or the thing they would be thought to commend. And we may indeed suppose them more peculiarly designed for the things themselves, if they bestow them on persons absent rather than present; if they covet and aspire after the same qualities themselves which they magnify in others; if they admire the same perfections in the rest of mankind as well as in us, and are never found to falter and belie, either in word or action, the sentiments they have owned. And, what is the surest criterion in this case, we are to examine whether or no we are not really troubled at or ashamed of the commission of those very things for which they applaud us, and could not wish that we had said or acted the quite contrary; for our own consciences, which are above the reach of passion and will not be put upon by all the sly artifices of flattery, will witness against us and spurn at an undeserved commendation. But I know not how it comes to pass, that several persons had rather be pitied than comforted in adversity; and when they have committed a fault, look upon those as enemies and informers who endeavor to chide and lecture them into a sense of their guilt, but caress and embrace them as friends who soothe them up in their vices. Indeed they who continue their applauses to so inconsiderable a thing as a single action, a wise saying, or a smart jest, do only a little present mischief; but they who from single acts proceed to debauch even the habits of the mind with their immoderate praises are like those treacherous servants who, not content to rob the common heap in the granary, filch even that which was chosen and reserved for seed. For, whilst they entitle vice to the name of virtue, they corrupt that prolific principle of action, the genius and disposition of the soul, and poison the fountain whence the whole stream of life derives. Thucydides observes, that in the time of war and sedition the names of good and evil are wont to be confounded according to men's judgment of circumstances; as, fool-hardiness is called a generous espousal of a friend's quarrel, a provident delay is nicknamed cowardice, modesty a mere pretext for unmanliness, a prudent slow inspection into things downright laziness. In like manner, if you observe it, a flatterer terms a profuse man liberal, a timorous man wary, a mad fellow quick and prompt, a stingy miser frugal, an amorous youngster kind and good-natured, a passionate proud fool stout, and a mean-spirited slave courteous and observing. As Plato somewhere remarks, that a lover who is always a flatterer of his beloved object styles a flat nose lovely and graceful, an hawk nose princely, the black manly, and the fair the offspring of the Gods; and observes particularly that the appellation of honey-pale is nothing but the daub of a gallant who is willing to set off his mistress's pale complexion. Now indeed an ugly fellow bantered into an opinion that he is handsome, or a little man magnified into tall and portly, cannot lie long under the mistake nor receive any great injury by the cheat; but when vice is extolled by the name of virtue, so that a man is induced to sin not only without regret but with joy and triumph, and is hardened beyond the modesty of a blush for his enormities, this sort of flattery, I say, has been fatal even to whole kingdoms. It was this that ruined Sicily, by styling the tyranny of Dionysius and Phalaris nothing but justice and a hatred of villanous practices. It was this that overthrew Egypt, by palliating the king's effeminacy, his yellings, his enthusiastic rants, and his beating of drums, with the more plausible names of true religion and the worship of the Gods. It was this that had very nigh ruined the stanch Roman temper, by extenuating the voluptuousness, the luxury, the sumptuous shows, and public profuseness of Antony, into the softer terms of humanity, good nature, and the generosity of a gentleman who knew how to use the greatness of his fortune. What but the charms of flattery made Ptolemy turn piper and fiddler? What else put on Nero's buskins and brought him on the stage? Have we not known several princes, if they sung a tolerable treble, termed Apollos; when they drank stoutly, styled Dionysoses; and upon wrestling, fencing, or the like, immediately dubbed by the name of Hercules, and hurried on by those empty titles to the commission of those acts which were infinitely beneath the dignity of their character? 

13  And therefore it will be then more especially our concern to look about us when a flatterer is upon the strain of praising; which he is sensible enough of, and accordingly avoids all occasion of suspicion when he attacks us on that side. If indeed he meets with a tawdry fop, or a dull country clown in a leathern jacket, he plays upon him with all the liberty imaginable; as Struthias by way of flattery insulted and triumphed over the sottishness of Bias, when he told him that he had out drunk King Alexander himself, and that he was ready to die of laughter at his encounter with the Cyprian. But if he chance to fall upon an apprehensive man, who can presently smoke a design, especially if he thinks he has an eye upon him and stands upon his guard, he does not immediately assault him with an open panegyric, but first fetches a compass, and softly winds about him, till he has in some measure tamed the untractable creature and brought it to his hand. For he either tells him what high characters he has heard of him abroad (introducing, as the rhetoricians do, some third person), how upon the exchange the other day he happily overheard some strangers and persons of great gravity and worth, who spake extreme honorably of him and professed themselves much his admirers; or else he forges some frivolous and false accusation of him, and then coming in all haste, as if he had heard it really reported, asks him seriously, if he can call to mind where he said or did such a thing. And immediately upon his denial of the matter of fact, which he has reason enough to expect, he takes occasion to fall upon the subject of his commendation; I wondered indeed, says he, to hear that you should calumniate your friend, who never used to speak ill of your enemies; that you should endeavor to rob another man of his estate, who so generously spend your own. 

14  Others again, like painters who enhance the lustre and beauty of a curious piece by the shades which surround it, slyly extol and encourage men in their vices by deriding and railing at their contrary virtues. Thus, in the company of the debauched, the covetous, and the extortioner, they run down temperance and modesty as mere rusticity; and justice and contentment with our present condition argue nothing in their phrase but a dastardly spirit and an impotence to action. If they fall into the acquaintance of lubbers who love laziness and ease, they stick not to explode the necessary administration of public affairs as a troublesome intermeddling in other men's business, and a desire to bear office as an useless empty thirst after a name. To wheedle in with an orator, they scout a philosopher; and who so gracious as they with the jilts of the town, by laughing at wives who are faithful to their husbands' beds as impotent and country-bred? And, what is the most egregious stratagem of all the rest, the flatterer shall traduce himself rather than want a fair opportunity to commend another; as wrestlers put their body in a low posture, that they may the better worst their adversaries. I am a very coward at sea, says he, impatient of any fatigue, and cannot digest the least ill language; but my good friend here fears no colors, can endure all hardness, is an admirable good man, bears all things with great patience and evenness of temper. If he meets with one who abounds in his own sense and affects to appear rigid and singular in his judgment, and, as an argument of the rectitude and steadiness thereof, is always telling you of that of Homer, Let not your praise or dispraise lavish be, Good Diomedes, when you speak of me," he applies a new engine to move this great weight. To such a one he imparts some of his private concerns, as being willing to advise with the ablest counsel: he has indeed a more intimate acquaintance with others, but he was forced to trouble him at present: for to whom should we poor witless men have recourse (says he) when we stand in need of advice? Or whom else should we trust? And as soon as he has delivered his opinion, whether it be to the purpose or not, he takes his leave of him with a seeming satisfaction, as if he had received an answer from an oracle. Again, if he perceives a man pretends to be master of a style, he presently presents him with something of his own composing, requesting him to peruse and correct it. Thus Mithridates could no sooner set up for a physician, than some of his acquaintance desired to be cut and cauterized by him, — a piece of flattery that extended beyond the fallacy of bare words, — they imagining that he must needs take it as an argument of their great opinion of his skill, that they durst trust themselves in his hands. For things divine take many shapes." Now to discover the cheat which these insinuations of our own worth might put upon us (a thing that requires no ordinary circumspection), the best way will be to give him a very absurd advice, and to animadvert as impertinently as may be upon his works when he submits them to your censure. For if he makes no reply, but grants and approves of all you assert, and applauds every period with the eulogy of Very right! Incomparably well! — then you have trepanned him, and it is plain that, though He counsel asked, he played another game, To swell you with the opinion of a name. 

15  But to proceed. As some have defined painting to be mute poetry, so there is a sort of silent flattery which has its peculiar commendation. For as hunters are then surest of their game when they pass under the disguise of travellers, shepherds or husbandmen, and seem not at all intent upon their sport; so the eulogies of a parasite never take more effectually than when he seems least of all to commend you. For he who rises up to a rich man when he comes in company, or who, having begun a motion in the Senate, suddenly breaks off and gives some leading man the liberty of speaking his sense first in the point, such a man's silence more effectually shows the deference he pays the other's judgment than if he had avowedly proclaimed it. And hereupon you shall have them always placed in the boxes at the play-house, and perched upon the highest seats at other public entertainments; not that they think them suitable to their quality, but merely for the opportunity of gratifying great men by giving them place. Hence it is likewise, that they open first in all solemn and public assemblies, only that they may give place to another as an abler speaker, and they retract their opinion immediately, if any person of authority, riches, or quality contradict them. So that you may perceive all their concessions, cringes, and respects to be but mere courtship and complaisance, by this easy observation, that they are usually paid to riches, honor, or the like, rather than to age, art, virtue, or other personal endowments. Thus dealt not Apelles with Megabyzus (one of the Persian nobility), who pretending once to talk I know not what about lines, shades, and other things peculiar to his art, the painter could not but take him up, telling him that his apprentices yonder, who were grinding colors, gazed strangely upon him, admiring his gold and purple ornaments, while he held his tongue, but now could not choose but titter to hear him offer at a discourse upon an argument so much out of his sphere. And when Croesus asked Solon his opinion of felicity, he told him flatly, that he looked upon Tellus, an honest though obscure Athenian, and Biton and Cleobis, as happier than he. But the flatterer will have kings, governors, and men of estates, not only the most signally happy, but the most eminently knowing, the most virtuous, and the most prudent of mankind. 

16  And now some cannot endure to hear the Stoics, who centre all true riches, generosity, nobility, and royalty itself in the person of a wise man; but with the flatterer it is the man of money that is both orator and poet, and, if he pleases, painter and fiddler too, a good wrestler, an excellent footman, or any thing, for they never stand with him for the victory in those engagements; as Crisson, who had the honor to run with Alexander, let him designedly win the race, which the king being told of afterwards was highly disgusted at him. And therefore I like the observation of Carneades, who used to say that young princes and noblemen never arrived to a tolerable perfection in any thing they learned, except riding; for their preceptors spoil them at school by extolling all their performances, and their wrestling-masters by always taking the foil; whereas the horse, who knows no distinction betwixt a private man and a magistrate, betwixt the rich and the poor, will certainly throw his rider if he knows not how to sit him, let him be of what quality he pleases. And therefore it was but impertinently said of Bion upon this subject, that he who could praise his ground into a good crop were to blame if he bestowed any other tillage upon it. 'Tis granted: nor is it improper to commend a man, if you do him any real kindness thereby. But here is the disparity: that a field cannot be made worse by any commendations bestowed upon it, whereas a man immoderately praised is puffed up, burst, and ruined by it. 

17  Thus much then for the point of praising; proceed we in the next place to treat of freedom in their reprehensions. And indeed, it were but reasonable that, — as Patroclus put on Achilles's armor and led his war-horse out into the field, yet durst not for all that venture to wield his spear, — so, though the flatterer wear all the other badges and ensigns of a friend, he should not dare to counterfeit the plain frankness of his discourse, as being "a great, massy, and substantial weapon," peculiar to him." But because, to avoid that scandal and offence which their drunken bouts, their little jests, and ludicrous babling humor might otherwise create, they sometimes put on the face of gravity, and flatter under the vizard of a frown, dropping in now and then a word of correction and reproof, let us examine this cheat too amongst the rest. And indeed I can compare that trifling insignificant liberty of speech to which he pretends to nothing better than that sham Hercules which Menander introduces in one of his comedies, with a light hollow club upon his shoulder; for, as women's pillows, which seem sufficiently stuffed to bear up their heads, yield and sink under their weight, so this counterfeit freedom in a flatterer's conversation swells big and promises fair, that when it shrinks and contracts itself it may draw those in with it who lay any stress upon its outward appearance. Whereas the genuine and friendly reprehension fixes upon real criminals, causing them grief and trouble indeed, but only what is wholesome and salutary; like honey that corrodes but yet cleanses the ulcerous parts of the body, and is otherwise both pleasant and profitable. But of this in its proper place. We shall discourse at present of the flatterer who affects a morose, angry, and inexorable behavior towards all but those upon whom he designs, is peevish and difficult towards his servants, animadverts severely upon the failures of his relations and domestics, neither admires nor respects a stranger but superciliously contemns him, pardons no man, but by stories and complaints exasperates one against another, thinking by these means to acquire the character of an irreconcilable enemy to all manner of vice, that he may be thought one who would not spare his favorites themselves upon occasion, and would neither act nor speak any thing out of a mean and dastardly complaisance. And if at any time he undertakes his friend, he feigns himself a mere stranger to his real and considerable crimes; but if he catch him in some petty trifling peccadillo, there he takes his occasion to rant him terribly and thunder him severely off; as, if he see any of his goods out of order, if his house be not very convenient, if his beard be not shaven or his clothes unfashionable, if his dog or his horse be not well looked after. But if he slight his parents, neglect his children, treat his wife scornfully, his friends and acquaintance disrespectfully, and squander away his estate, here he dares not open his mouth, and it is the safest way to hold his tongue. Just as if the master of a wrestling-school should indulge his young champion scholar in drinking and wenching, and yet rattle him about his oil-cruise and body-brush; or as if a schoolmaster should severely reprove a boy for some little fault in his pen or writing-book, but take no notice of the barbarisms and solecisms in his language. For the parasite is like him who hearing a ridiculous impertinent orator finds no fault with his discourse but delivery, blaming him only for having hurt his throat with drinking cold water; or like one who, being to peruse and correct some pitiful scribble, falls foul only upon the coarseness of the paper and the blots and negligence of the transcriber. Thus the parasites about Ptolemy, when he pretended to learning, would wrangle with him till midnight about the propriety of an expression, a verse, or a story; but not a word all this while of his cruelty, insults, superstition, and oppressions of the people. Just as if a chirurgeon should pare a man's nails or cut his hair, to cure him of a fistula, wen, or other carnous excrescence. 

18  But there are others behind, who outdo all the subtlety of the former, such as can claw and please, even whilst they seem to reprehend. Thus when Alexander had bestowed some considerable reward upon a jester, Agis the Argive, through mere envy and vexation, cried out upon it as a most absurd action; which the king overhearing, he turned him about in great indignation at the insolence, saying, What's that you prate, sirrah? Why truly, replied the man, I must confess, I am not a little troubled to observe, that all you great men who are descended from Zeus take a strange delight in flatterers and buffoons; for as Hercules had his Cercopians and Dionysos his Silenuses about him, so I see your majesty is pleased to have a regard for such pleasant fellows too. And one time when Tiberius Caesar was present at the senate, there stood up a certain fawning counsellor, asserting that all free-born subjects ought to have the liberty of speaking their sense freely, and should not dissemble or conceal any thing that they might conceive beneficial to the public; who, having thus awakened the attention of his audience, silence being made, and Tiberius impatient to hear the sequel of the man's discourse, pursued it in this manner: I must tell you of a fault, Caesar, said he, for which we universally blame you, though no man yet has taken the confidence to speak it openly. You neglect yourself, endanger your sacred person by your too much labor and care, night and day, for the public. And he having harangued several things to the same effect, it is reported that Cassius Severus the orator rejoined: This man's freedom of speech will ruin him. 

19  Such artifices as these, I confess, are not very pernicious, but there remains one of a most dangerous consequence to weak men; and that is when a flatterer fastens those vices upon them which are directly contrary to those they are really guilty of. As Himerius, an Athenian parasite, upbraided one of the most miserable and stingy misers of the whole town with carelessness and prodigality, telling him he was afraid he should live to see the day when both he and his children should go a begging. Or, on the contrary, when they object niggardliness and parsimony to one that is lavish and profuse, as Titus Petronius did to Nero. Or when they advise arbitrary and tyrannical princes to lay aside their too much moderation and their unprofitable and unseasonable clemency. And like to these are they who shall pretend to be afraid of a half-witted idiot, as of some notable shrewd fellow; and shall tax an ill-natured censorious man, if at any time he speak honorably of a person of worth, of being too lavish in his commendations. You are always, say they, praising men that deserve it not; for who is he, or what remarkable thing did he ever say or do? But they have yet a more signal opportunity of exercising their talent, when they meet with any difference betwixt lovers or friends; for if they see brothers quarrel, or children despise their parents, or husbands jealous of their wives, they neither admonish them nor blame them for it, but inflame the difference. You don't understand yourself, say they; you are the occasion of all this clutter by your own soft and submissive behavior. If there chance to have happened some little love-skirmish betwixt a miss and her gallant, then the flatterer interposes boldly and adds fresh fuel to the expiring flame, taking the gentleman to task, and telling him how many things he has done which looked a little hard, were not kind, and deserved a chiding. Ungrateful man! can you forget her charms, And former soft embraces in her arms?" Thus Antony's friends persuaded him, when he was smitten with his beloved Cleopatra, that she doted on him, still calling him haughty and hard-hearted man. She, said they, has stripped herself of the glories of a crown and former grandeur, and now languishes with the love of you, attending the motion of your camp in the poor sordid figure of a concubine. But you have steeled your heart, and can unmoved Behold her grief, whom once you so much loved." Now he was strangely pleased to hear of his little unkindness to his mistress, and was more taken with such a chiding than with the highest character they could have given him; but was not sensible that, under the color of a friendly admonition, they really corrupted and debauched him. For such a rebuke as this is just like the bites of a lecherous woman, for it only tickles and provokes, and pleases even whilst it pains you. And as pure wine taken singly is an excellent antidote against hemlock, but if mixed with it renders the poison incurable, because the heat of the wine quickens its circulation to the heart; so some rascally fellows, knowing very well that the liberty of reproving a friend is a quality very hardly compatible with flattery, and, as I may say, the best remedy against it, mix them both together, and flatter you under the very color and pretext of reprimanding you. Upon the whole thereof, Bias seems not to have answered him very pertinently, who asked him which he thought was the most hurtful animal, when he replied, Of wild creatures a tyrant, and of tame ones a flatterer. For he might have answered more accurately, that some flatterers indeed are tame creatures, those shirks who ply about your bath and your table; but they whose calumnies, malignity, and inquisitive meddling humor, like so many gins and snares, reach the ladies' very closets and bed-chambers, are wild, savage, and untractable. 

20  Now one way of arming ourselves against these assaults will be always to remember that, — since our souls are made up of two different parts, the one sincere, honest, and reasonable, the other brutish, false, and governed by passion, — the friend always adapts his advice and admonitions to the improvement of the better part (like a good physician, who preserves and advances an healthful constitution where he finds it), whilst the flatterer claws and tickles the irrational part of the man only, debauching it from the rules of right reason by the repeated suggestion of soft and sensual delights. For as there are some sorts of meat which assimilate neither with the blood nor with the spirits, and invigorate neither the nerves nor the marrow, but only provoke lust, swell the paunch, and breed putrid flabby flesh; so he who shall give himself the labor to observe will find that the discourses of a flatterer contribute nothing to the improvement of our prudence and understanding, but either only entertain us with the pleasure of some love-intrigue, or make us indiscreetly angry or envious, or blow us up into an empty troublesome opinion of ourselves, or increase our sorrows by pretending to share in them; or else they exasperate any inbred naughtiness that is in us, or our illiberality or distrustfulness, making them harsh, timorous, and jealous, with idle malicious stories, hints, and conjectures of his own. For he always fastens upon and pampers some distemper of the mind, growing, like a botch or bile, upon its inflamed or putrid part only. Are you angry? Revenge yourself, says he. Covet you any thing? Have it. Are you afraid? Fly. Suspect you this or that? Believe it. But if we find it something difficult to discover him in these attempts upon our passions, because they often violently overpower all the forces of our reason to the contrary, we may then trace him in other instances of his knavery; for he always acts consonant to himself. As, if you are afraid of a surfeit and thereupon are in suspense about your bath and diet, a friend indeed will advise you to act cautiously and take care of your health; but the flatterer persuades you to the bath, bids you feed freely and not starve yourself with mortification. If he observes you want briskness and spirit for action, as being unwilling to undergo the fatigue of a journey or a voyage, he will tell you presently, there is no haste; the business may be well enough deferred, or else transacted by proxy. If at any time you have promised to lend or give a friend a sum of money, and upon second thoughts gladly would, and yet are ashamed to retract your word, the flatterer puts his advice in the worse scale, and inclines the balance to the saving side, and strips you of your squeamish modesty, telling you that you ought not to be so prodigal, who live at great expense and have others to relieve besides him. And therefore, unless we be mere strangers to ourselves, — to our own covetousness, shamelessness, or timidity, — the flatterer cannot easily escape our discovery; for he is the great patron of these disorderly passions, endeavoring always to wind us up to excesses of this kind. But enough of this. 

21  Let us in the next place discourse of the useful and kind offices which the flatterer seems cheerfully ready upon every occasion to perform, thereby rendering the disparity betwixt him and the true friend extremely perplexed and intricate. For the temper of a friend, like the language of truth, is (as Euripides says) sincere, natural, without paint or varnish; but that of a flatterer, as it is corrupt and diseased in itself, so stands in need of many curious and exquisite remedies to correct it. And therefore you shall have friends upon an accidental rencounter, without either giving or receiving a formal salute, content themselves to speak their mutual kindness and familiarity in a nod and a smile; but the flatterer pursues you, runs to meet you, and extends his hand long before he comes at you; and if you chance but to see and salute him first, he swears you must excuse his rudeness, and will produce you witness that he did not see you, if you please. Thus again, a friend dwells not upon every trifling punctilio, is not ceremonious and punctual in the transacting of business, is not inquisitive, and does not intrude into every piece of service; but the parasite is all obedience, all perpetual indefatigable industry, admits no rival in his services, but will wait your commands, which if you lay not upon him, he seems mightily afflicted, the unhappiest man in the world! 

22  Now these observations are argument enough to convince a man of any tolerable sense, that the friendship such men pretend to is not really virtuous and chaste, but rather a sort of impudent whorish love that obtrudes its embraces upon you. But, to be more particular, let us first examine the disparity betwixt their promises. For our forefathers well observed, that the offers of a friend run in such terms as these: If I can serve you, sir, if your request Be feasible by me, I'll do my best; but the flatterer's thus: Command me freely what you will, I'll do it." For the comedians introduce such brave promises as these: Come, sir, let me but fight that fellow there; I'll beat him soft as sponge or jellies are. Besides, no real friend will assist in the execution of a design, unless, being first advised with, he approve of it as either honest or useful. Whereas the flatterer, though permitted to consult and give his opinion about an undertaking, not only out of a paltry desire to comply with and gratify his friend at any rate, but lest he should be looked upon as disaffected to the business, servilely closes with and advances his proposal, how unreasonable soever. For there are few rich men or princes of this mind: Give me a friend, though a poor beggar he, Or meaner than the meanest beggar be, If he his thoughts but freely will impart, And boldly speak the language of his heart;" for they, like actors in a tragedy, must have a chorus of their friends to join with them in the concert, or else the claps of the pit to encourage them. Whereupon Merope in the tragedy speaks thus: Make choice of those for friends, who never knew The arts of wheedling and betraying you; But those poor rascals never entertain, Who please you only with design to gain." But alas! they invert the counsel, and abominate those who deal freely with them and advise them obstinately for the best, whilst pitiful cringing cheats and impostors are admitted not only into their houses, but into their affections and the nearest concernments of their life. You shall have some of them indeed more plain and simple than the rest, who confess themselves unworthy to consult about such weighty affairs, but are ready to serve you in the executive part of a design. But the more subtle hypocrite comes in at the consult, knits his brows, declares his consent by the gravity of a look or a nod, but speaks never a word, unless perchance, when the great man delivers his opinion, he cries, Lord! sir, you prevented me; I was just going to say so. For, as the mathematicians tell us that surfaces and lines, which are incorporeal and creatures of the understanding only, are neither bended nor moved nor extended of themselves, but are so affected together with the bodies whose extremities they are; so you shall observe the flatterer attends only the motion of another's sense, opinion, or passion, without any principle of action in himself. So that the disparity betwixt them thus far is easily discernible. And yet more easily in the manner they perform their good offices. For the kindness s of a friend, like an animate creature, have their most proper virtues deep within, without any parade or pageantry on the outside. Nay, many times, as a faithful physician cures his patient when he least knows of it, so a true friend, either present or absent, as occasion serves, is solicitous about your concerns, when perhaps you know nothing of it. Such was the excellent Arcesilaus, as in his other actions, so particularly in his kindness to Apelles, native of Chios, whom finding extremely indigent in his sickness, he repeated his visit to him with twenty drachms in his pocket; and sitting by his bedside, You have got nothing here, said he, but Empedocles's elements, fire, water, earth, and the surrounding air; neither, methinks, do you lie easily. And with that, stirring up his pillow, he put the money privately under his head; which when the good old woman his nurse found and in great wonder acquainted Apelles with, Aye, says he, smiling a little, this is a piece of Arcesilaus's thievery. And the saying that children resemble their parents is found true also in philosophy. For when Cephisocrates was impeached of high treason, and Lacydes, an intimate acquaintance of Arcesilaus, with several others of his friends, stood by him at his trial, the counsel for the state desired that the prisoner's ring, wherein lay the principal evidence against him, might be produced in court; which Cephisocrates hearing dropped it softly off his finger, and Lacydes observing it set his foot upon it and buried it in the ground. Whereupon being acquitted, and going afterwards to pay his respects and thanks to his judges, one of them (who, it seems, had taken notice of the passages) told him that his thanks were owing to Lacydes, and so related the whole story, when yet Lacydes had never mentioned it. Thus I am varily persuaded the Gods confer several benefits upon us which we are not sensible of, upon no other motive in the world than the mere pleasure and satisfaction they take in acts of kindness and beneficence. But on the contrary, the seemingly good offices of a flatterer have nothing of that sincerity and integrity, that simplicity and ingenuousness, which recommend a kindness, but are always attended with bustle and noise, hurry, sweat and contracting the brow, to enhance your opinion of the great pains he has taken for you; like a picture drawn in gaudy colors, with folded torn garments, and full of angles and wrinkles, to make us believe it an elaborate piece and done to the life. Besides, the flatterer is so extremely troublesome in recounting the weary steps he has taken, the cares he has had upon him, the persons he has been forced to disoblige, with a thousand other inconveniencies he has labored under upon your account, that you will be apt to say, The business was never worth all this din and clutter about it. For a kindness once upbraided loses its grace, turns a burden, and becomes intolerable. But the flatterer not only reproaches us with his services already past, but at the very instant of their performance; whereas, if a friend be obliged to speak of any civility done another, he modestly mentions it indeed, but attributes nothing to himself. Thus, when the Lacedemonians supplied the people of Smyrna in great scarcity of provisions, and they gratefully resented and extolled the kindness; Why, replied the Spartans, it was no such great matter, we only robbed ourselves and our cattle of a dinner. For a favor thus bestowed is not only free and ingenuous, but more acceptable to the receiver, because he imagines his benefactor conferred it on him without any great prejudice to himself. 

23  But the temper of a flatterer is discernible from that of a friend not only in the easiness of his promises and the troublesome impertinence that attends his good offices, but more signally in this, that the one is ready to promote any base and unworthy action, the other those only which are fair and honest. The one labors to please, the other to profit you. For a friend must not, as Gorgias would have him, beg another's assistance in a just undertaking, and then think to compensate the civility by contributing to several that are unjust. In wisdom, not in folly, should they join. And if, after all, he cannot prevail upon him, he may disengage himself with the reply of Phocion to Antipater; Sir, I cannot be both your friend and your flatterer, — that is, Your friend and not your friend at the same time. For we ought to be assistant to him in his honest endeavors indeed, but not in his knaveries; in his counsels, not in his tricks; in appearing as evidence for him, but not in a cheat; and must bear a share in his misfortunes, but not in his acts of injustice. For if a man ought not to be as much as conscious of any unworthiness in his friend, how much less will it become him to partake in it? Therefore, as the Lacedemonians, defeated and treating of articles of peace with Antipater, prayed him to command them any thing, howsoever grievous and burthensome to the subject, provided it were not base and dishonorable; so a friend, if you want his assistance in a chargeable, dangerous, and laborious enterprise, embarks in the design cheerfully and without reserve; but if such as will not stand with his reputation and honor, he fairly desires to be excused. Whereas, on the contrary, if you offer to put a flatterer upon a difficult or hazardous employment, he shuffles you off and begs your pardon. For but sound him, as you rap a vessel to try whether it be whole or cracked, full or empty; and he shams you off with the noise of some paltry, frivolous excuses. But engage him in any mean, sordid, and inglorious service, abuse him, kick him, trample on him, he bears all patiently and knows no affront. For as the ape, who cannot keep the house like a dog or bear a burden like an horse or plough like an ox, serves to be abused, to play the buffoon, and to make sport; so the parasite, who can neither plead your cause nor be your counsel nor espouse your quarrel, as being averse from all painful and good offices, denies you in nothing that may contribute to your pleasure, turns pander to your lust, pimps for a whore, provides you an handsome entertainment, looks that your bill be reasonable, and sneaks to your miss; but he shall treat your relations with disrespect and impudently turn your wife out of doors, if you commission him. So that you may easily discover him in this particular. For put him upon the most base and dirty actions; he will not spare his own pains, provided he can but gratify you. 

24  There remains yet another way to discover him by his inclinations towards your intimates and familiars. For there is nothing more agreeable to a true and cordial acquaintance than to love and to be beloved with many; and therefore he always sedulously endeavors to gain his friend the affections and esteem of other men. For being of opinion that all things ought to be in common amongst friends, he thinks nothing ought to be more so than they themselves. But the faithless, the adulterate friend of base alloy, who is conscious to himself of the disservice he does true friendship by that false coin of it which he puts upon us, is naturally full of emulation and envy, even towards those of his own profession, endeavoring to outdo them in their common talent of babbling and buffoonry, whilst he reveres and cringes to his betters, whom he dares no more vie with than a footman with a Lydian chariot, or lead (to use Simonides's expression) with refined gold. Therefore this light and empty counterfeit, finding he wants weight when put into the balance against a solid and substantial friend, endeavors to remove him as far as he can, like him who, having painted a cock extremely ill, commanded his servant to take the original out of sight; and if he cannot compass his design, then he proceeds to compliment and ceremony, pretending outwardly to admire him as a person far beyond himself, whilst by secret calumnies he blackens and undermines him. And if these chance to have galled and fretted him only and have not thoroughly done their work, then he betakes himself to the advice of Medius, that arch parasite and enemy to the Macedonian nobility, and chief of all that numerous train which Alexander entertained in his court. This man taught his disciples to slander boldly and push home their calumnies; for, though the wound might probably be cured and skinned over again, yet the teeth of slander would be sure to leave a scar behind them. By these scars, or (to speak more properly) gangrenes and cancers of false accusations, fell the brave Callisthenes, Parmenio, and Philotas; whilst Alexander himself became an easy prey to an Agnon, Bagoas, Agesias, and Demetrius, who tricked him up like a barbarian statue, and paid the mortal the adoration due to a God. So great a charm is flattery, and, as it seems, the greatest with those we think the greatest men; for the exalted thoughts they entertain of themselves, and the desire of a universal concurrence in the same opinion from others, both add courage to the flatterer and credit to his impostures. Hills and mountains indeed are not easily taken by stratagem or ambuscade; but a weak mind, swollen big and lofty by fortune, birth, or the like, lies naked to the assaults of every mean and petty aggressor. 

25  And therefore we repeat here what we advised at our entrance into this discourse, that we cashier every vain opinion of ourselves and all self-love. For their inbred flattery only disposes and prepares us to a more favorable reception of that from without. For, if we did but square our actions according to the famous oracular precept of knowing ourselves, rate things according to their true intrinsic value, and withal, reflecting upon our own nature and education, consider what gross imperfections and failures mix with our words, actions, and affections, we should not lie so open to the attempts of every flatterer who designs upon us. For even Alexander himself, being reminded of his mortality by two things especially, the necessity of sleep and the use of women, began to stagger in the opinion they had made him conceive of his godhead. And did we in like manner but take an impartial survey of those troubles, lapses, and infirmities incident to our nature, we should find we stood in no need of a friend to praise and extol our virtues, but of one rather that would chide and reprimand us for our vices. For first, there are but few who will venture to deal thus roundly and impartially with their friends, and fewer yet who know the art of it, men generally mistaking railing and ill language for a decent and friendly reproof. And then a chiding, like any other physic, if ill-timed, racks and torments you to no purpose, and works in a manner the same effect with pain that flattery does with pleasure. For an unseasonable reprehension may be equally mischievous with an unseasonable commendation, and force your friend to throw himself upon the flatterer; like water which, leaving the too precipitous and rugged hills, rolls down upon the humble valleys below. And therefore we ought to qualify and allay the sharpness of our reproofs with a due temper of candor and moderation, — as we would soften light which is too powerful for a distempered eye, — lest our friends, being plagued and ranted upon every trivial occasion, should at last fly to the flatterer's shade for their ease and quiet. For all vice, Philopappus, is to be corrected by an intermediate virtue, and not by its contrary extreme, as some do who, to shake off that sheepish bashfulness which hangs upon their natures, learn to be impudent; to lay aside their country breeding, endeavor to be comical; to avoid the imputation of softness and cowardice, turn bullies; out of an abhorrence of superstition, commence atheists; and rather than be reputed fools, play the knave; forcing their inclinations, like a crooked stick, to the opposite extreme, for want of skill to set them straight. But it is highly rude to endeavor to avoid the suspicion of flattery by only being insignificantly troublesome, and it argues an ungenteel, unconversable temper in a man to show his just abhorrency of mean and servile ends in his friendship only by a sour and disagreeable behavior; like the freedman in the comedy, who would needs persuade himself that his railing accusation fell within the limits of that freedom in discourse which every one had right to with his equals. Since therefore it is absurd to incur the suspicion of a flatterer by an over-obliging and obsequious humor, and as absurd, on the other hand, in endeavoring to decline it by an immoderate latitude in our apprehensions, to lose the enjoyments and salutary admonitions of a friendly conversation, and since the measures of what is just and proper in this, as in other things, are to be taken from decency and moderation; the nature of the argument seems to require me to conclude it with a discourse upon this subject. 

26  Now seeing this liberty of animadverting on other men's failures is liable to so many exceptions, let us in the first place carefully purge it from all mixture of self-love and interest, lest any private motive, injury, grudge, or dissatisfaction of our own should seem to incite us to the undertaking. For such a chiding as this would not pass for an effect of kindness but of passion, and looks more like complaint than an admonition; for the latter has always something in it that sounds kind and yet awful, whereas the other betrays only a selfish and narrow disposition. And therefore we usually honor and revere our monitor, but contemn and recriminate upon a querulous accuser. As Agamemnon could by no means digest the moderate censures of Achilles, yet bore well enough with the severer reprimand of Ulysses, O were thy sway the curse of meaner powers, And thou the shame of any host but ours!" being satisfied of his wisdom and good intentions; for he rated him purely upon the account of the public, the other upon his own. And Achilles himself, though of a rough and untractable disposition and ready enough to find faults where there were none, yet heard Patroclus patiently when he ranted him thus: Unpitying man! no Peleus caused thy birth, Nor did the tender Thetis bring thee forth; But rocks, hard as thy heart, and th' angry sea Clubbed to produce a monstrous man like thee. For as Hyperides the orator desired the Athenians to consider not only whether his reflections were sharp, but also whether his sharpness was disinterested and incorrupt; so the reproofs of a friend, if they proceed from a sincere and disinterested affection, create veneration, awe, and confusion in the criminal to whom they are addressed. And if he once perceive that his friend, waiving all offences against himself, chides him purely for those committed against others, he can never hold out against the force of so powerful a rebuke; for the sweet and obliging temper of his monitor gives a keener edge to his admonitions. And therefore it has been wisely said, that especially in heats and differences with our friends we ought to have a peculiar regard to their honor and interest. Nor is it a less argument of friendship, for a man who is laid aside and out of favor himself to turn advocate in behalf of another equally despised and neglected; as Plato being in disgrace with Dionysiusbegged audience of him, which he readily granting in expectation of being entertained with an account of his grievances, Plato addressed himself to him after this manner: Sir, said he, if you were informed there were a certain ruffian come over into your island of Sicily with design to attempt upon your majesty's person, but for want of an opportunity could not execute the villany, would you suffer him to go off unpunished? No, by no means, Plato, replied the king; for we ought to detest and revenge not only the overt acts but the malicious intentions of our enemies. Well then, on the other hand, said Plato, if there should come a person to court out of pure kindness and ambition to serve your majesty, and you would not give him an opportunity of expressing it, were it reasonable to dismiss him with scorn and disrespect? Whom do you mean, said Dionysius? Why, Aeschines, replied Plato, as honest and excellent a person as any in the school of Socrates, and of a very edifying conversation; who, having exposed himself to the difficulties of a tedious voyage that he might enjoy the happiness of a philosophical converse with your majesty, has met with nothing but contempt in return to the kindness he intended. This friendly and generous temper of mind so strangely affected Dionysius, that he hugged and embraced Plato, and treated Aeschines with a great deal of honor and magnificence. 

27  In the next place, let us free our discourse from all contumelious language, all laughter, mockery, and scurrility, which spoil the relish of our reprehensions. For, as when a chirurgeon makes an incision in the flesh he uses decent neatness and dexterity in the operation, without the affected and superfluous gesticulations of a quack or mountebank, so the lancing the sores of a friend may admit indeed of a little humor and urbanity, but that so qualified that it spoil not the seriousness and gravity requisite to the work. For boldness, insolence, and ill language destroy its force and efficacy. And therefore the fiddler reparteed handsomely enough upon Philip, when he undertook to dispute with him about the touch upon his instrument: God forbid that your majesty should be so unhappy as to understand a fiddle better than I do. But Epicharmus was too blunt upon Hiero, who invited him to supper a little after he had put some of his acquaintance to death, when he replied, Aye, but you could not invite me the other day to the sacrifice of my friends. And so was Antiphon too rude in his reflection upon Dionysius, when, on occasion of a discourse about the best sort of bronze, he told him that was the best in his opinion of which the Athenians made statues of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. For these scurrilous abusive jests are most certainly disagreeable and pain to no purpose, being but the product of an intemperate wit, and betraying the enmity and ill-nature of him who takes the liberty to use them; and whosoever allows himself in them does but wantonly sport about the brink of that pit which one day will swallow him up. For Antiphon was afterward executed under Dionysius; and Timagenes was in disgrace with Angustus Caesar, not for any extravagant freedom in his discourse, but only because he had taken up a foolish custom of never talking seriously but always scurrilously at every entertainment and walk where the emperor desired his company: Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim;" alleging the pleasantness of his humor as the cause of his favor at court. Thus you shall meet with several smart and satirical reflections in a comedy; but the mixture of jest and fool in the play, like ill sauce to good meat, abates their poignancy and renders them insignificant; so that, upon the whole, the poet acquires only the character of a saucy and foul-mouthed buffoon, and the auditors lose that advantage which they might otherwise reap from remarks of that nature. We may do well therefore to reserve our jollity and mirth for more suitable occasions, but we must by all means be serious and candid in our admonitions; which, if they be upon important points, must be so animated with our gestures, passion, and eagerness of voice, as to give them weight and credit and so awaken a tender concern in the persons to whom they are addressed. We are again to time our reproofs as seasonably as we can; for a mistake in the opportunities, as it is of ill consequence in all other things, is so peculiarly in our reprehensions. And therefore, I presume, it is manifest, we ought not to fall foul upon men in their drink. For first, he who broaches any sour disagreeable discourse amidst the pleasantry and good humor of friends casts a cloud over the serenity of the company, and acts counter to the God Lysius, who, as Pindar words it, unties the band of all our cares. Besides, such unseasonable remonstrances are not without danger; for wine is apt to warm men into passion, and make them quarrel at the freedom you take. And in short, it is no argument of any brave and generous, but rather of an unmanly temper, not to dare to speak one's sense when men are sober, but to keep barking like a cowardly cur at table. And therefore we need not enlarge any further upon this topic. 

28  But because several persons neither will nor dare take their friends to task whilst they thrive and flourish in the world, looking upon prosperity as a state above the reach of a rebuke, but pour forth their invectives like a river that has overflown its banks, insulting and trampling upon them, when Fortune has already laid them at their feet, out of a sort of satisfaction to see their former state and grandeur reduced to the same level of fortune with themselves; it may not be improper to discourse a little upon this argument, and make some reply to that question of Euripides: What need is there of friends when Fortune smiles?" I answer, to lower those lofty and extravagant thoughts which are usually incident to that condition; for wisdom in conjunction with prosperity is a rare talent and the lot of but few. Therefore most men stand in need of a borrowed prudence, to depress the tumors that attend an exuberant felicity; but when the turn of Fortune itself has abated the swelling, a man's very circumstances are sufficient of themselves to read him a lecture of repentance, so that all other grave and austere corrections are then superfluous and impertinent; and it is on the contrary more proper in such traverses of Fortune to enjoy the company of a compassionate friend, who will administer some comfort to the afflicted and buoy him up under the pressure of his affairs. So Xenophon relates that the presence of Clearchus, a person of a courteous and obliging aspect, gave new life and courage to his soldiers in the heat of a battle or any other difficult rencounter. But he who chides and upbraids a man in distress, like him who applies a medicine for clearing the sight to a distempered and inflamed eye, neither works a cure nor allays the pain, but only adds anger to his sorrows and exasperates the patient. A man in health indeed will digest a friendly lecture for his wenching, drinking, idleness, continual recreations and bathing, or unseasonable eating; but for a sick man to be told that all this comes of his intemperance, voluptuousness, high feeding, or whoring, is utterly insupportable and worse than the disease itself. O impertinent man! will such a one say, the physicians prescribe me castor and scammony, and I am just making my last will and testament, and do you lie railing and preaching to me lectures of philosophy? And thus men in adversity stand more in need of our humanity and relief than of sharp and sententious reprimands. For neither will a nurse immediately scold at her child that is fallen, but first help him up, wash him, and put him in order again, and then chide and whip him. They tell us a story to this purpose of Demetrius Phalereus, that, when he dwelt an exile at Thebes in mean beggarly circumstances, he was once extremely concerned to observe the philosopher Crates making towards him, expecting to be treated by him with all the roughness of a cynical behavior. But when Crates had addressed himself courteously to him, and discoursed him upon the point of exile, endeavoring to convince him that it had nothing miserable or uneasy in it, but on the contrary rather rescued him from the nice and hazardous management of public affairs, — advising him withal to repose his confidence in himself and his own conscience, — Demetrius was so taken and encouraged by his discourse, that he is reported to have said to his friends, Cursed be those employs which robbed me so long of the acquaintance of such an excellent person. For Soft, friendly words revive th' afflicted soul; But sharp rebukes are only for a fool. And this is the way of generous and ingenuous friends. But they who servilely admire you in prosperity, — like old fractures and sprains, which (as Demosthenes speaks) always ache and pain us when some fresh disease has befallen the body, — stick close to you in the revolution of your fortune, and rejoice and enjoy the change. Whereas, if a man must needs have a remembrancer of a calamity which his own indiscretion hath pulled upon him, it is enough you put him in mind that he owes it not to your advice, for you often dissuaded him from the undertaking." 

29  Well then, you say, when is a keen reprehension allowable, and when may we chide a friend severely indeed? I answer, when some important occasion requires it, as the stopping him in the career of his voluptuousness, anger, or insolence, the repressing his covetous humor or any other foolish habit. Thus dealt Solon with Croesus, puffed up and debauched with the uncertain greatness of his fortune, when he bade him look to the end. Thus Socrateshumbled Alcibiades, forced him into unfeigned tears, and turned his heart, when he argued the case with him. Such, again, were the remonstrances and admonitions of Cyrus to Cyaxares, and of Plato to Dion, who, when the lustre and greatness of his achievements had fixed all men's eyes upon him, wished him to beware of arrogance and self-conceit, as the readiest way to make all men abandon him. And Speusippus wrote to him, not to pride himself in the little applauses of women and children, but to take care to adorn Sicily with religion, justice, and wholesome laws, that he might render the Academy great and illustrious. So did not Euctus and Eulaeus, two of Perseus's favorites; who fawned upon and complied with him as obsequiously as any courtier of them all during the success of his arms, but after his defeat at Pydna by the Romans inveighed bitterly against him, reminding him of his past faults, till the man out of mere anger and vexation stabbed them both on the spot. And so much concerning the timing our reproofs in general. 

30  Now there are several other accidental occasions administered by our friends themselves, which a person heartily solicitous for their interest will lay hold of. Thus some have taken an opportunity of censuring them freely from a question they have asked, from the relation of a story, or the praise or dispraise of the same actions in other men which they themselves have committed. Thus, they tell us, Demaratus coming from Corinth into Macedoniawhen Philip and his queen and son were at odds, and being after a gracious reception asked by the king what good understanding there was among the Grecians, replied, as being an old friend and acquaintance of his, Aye, by all means, sir, it highly becomes your majesty to enquire about the concord betwixt the Athenians and Peloponnesians, when you suffer your own family to be the scene of so much discord and contention. And as pert was that of Diogenes, who, entering Philip's camp as he was going to make war upon the Grecians, was seized upon and brought before the king, who not knowing him asked him if he was a spy. Why, yes truly, said he, I am a spy upon your folly and imprudence, who without any necessity upon you are come hither to expose your kingdoms and your life to the uncertain decision of the cast of a die. This may perhaps seem a little too biting and satirical. 

31  Another seasonable opportunity of reproving your friend for his vices is when some third person has already mortified him upon the same account. For a courteous and obliging man will dexterously silence his accuser, and then take him privately to task himself, advising him — if for no other reason, yet to abate the insolence of his enemies — to manage himself more prudently for the future. For how could they open their mouths against you, what could they have to reproach you with, if you would but reform such and such vices which render you obnoxious to their censure? And by this means the offence that was given lies at his door who roughly upbraided him; whilst the advantage he reaps is attributed to the person who candidly advised him. But there are some who have got yet a genteeler way of chiding, and that is, by chastising others for faults which they know their friends really stand guilty of. As my master Ammonius, perceiving once at his afternoon lecture that some of his scholars had dined more plentifully than became the moderation of students, immediately commanded one of his freedmen to take his own son and whip him. For what? says he. The youngster, forsooth, must needs have vinegar sauce to his meat; and with that casting his eye upon us, he gave us to understand that we likewise were concerned in the reprehension. 

32  Again, we must be cautious how we rebuke a friend in company, always remembering the repartee made upon Plato on that account. For Socrates having fallen one day very severely upon an acquaintance of his at table, Platocould not forbear to take him up, saying, Had it not been more proper, sir, to have spoken these things in private? To which Socrates instantly replied, And had it not been more proper for you to have told me so in private too? And they say, Pythagoras one time ranted a friend of his so terribly before company, that the poor young man went and hanged himself; from which time the philosopher would never chide any man in the presence of another. For the discovery and cure of a vice, like that of a scandalous disease, ought to be in secret, and not like a public show transacted upon the theatre; for it is no way the part of a friend, but a mere cheat and trick, for one man to recommend himself to the standers-by and seek for reputation from the failures of another, like mountebank chirurgeons, who perform their operations on a stage to gain the greater practice. But besides the disgrace that attends a reproof of this nature (a thing that will never work any cure), we are likewise to consider that vice is naturally obstinate and loves to dispute its ground. For what Euripides says is true not only of love, The more 'tis checked, the more it presses on, but of any other imperfection. If you lay a man open publicly for it and tell all, you are so far from reforming him that you force him to brave it out. And therefore, as Plato advises that old men who would teach the younger fry reverence should learn to revere them first, so certainly modestly to reprimand is the way to meet with a modest return. For he who warily attacks the criminal works upon his good nature by his own, and so insensibly undermines his vices. And therefore it would be much more proper to observe the rule in HomerTo whisper softly in the ear, Lest standers-by should chance to hear." But above all, we ought not to discover the imperfections of an husband before his wife, nor of a father before his children, nor of a lover in company of his mistress, nor of masters in presence of their scholars, or the like; for it touches a man to the quick to be rebuked before those whom he would have think honorably of him. And I verily believe that it was not so much the heat of the wine as the sting of too public a reprehension, that enraged Alexander against Clitus. And Aristomenes, Ptolemy's preceptor, lost himself by awaking the king, who had dropped asleep one time at an audience of foreign embassadors; for the court parasites immediately took this occasion to express their pretendedly deep resentments of the disgrace done his majesty, suggesting that, if indeed the cares of the government had brought a little seasonable drowsiness upon him, he might have been told of it in private, but should not have had rude hands laid upon his person before so great an assembly; which so affected the king, that he presently sent the poor man a draught of poison, and made him drink it up. And Aristophanes says, Cleon blamed him for railing at Athensbefore strangers, whereby he incensed the Athenians against him. And therefore they who aim at the interest and reformation of their friends rather than ostentation and popularity, ought amongst other things to beware of exposing them too publicly. Again, what Thucydides makes the Corinthians say of themselves, that they were persons every way qualified for the reprehension of other men, ought to be the character of every one who sets up for a monitor. For, as Lysander replied upon a certain Megarian, who in a council of allies and confederates had spoken boldly in behalf of Greece, This style of yours, sir, needs a state to back it; so he who takes upon him the liberty of a censor must be a man of a regular conversation himself, — one like Plato, whose life was a continued lecture to Speusippus, or Xenocrates, who, casting his eye one time upon the dissolute Polemon at a disputation, reformed him with the very awfulness of his looks. Whereas the remonstrance of a lewd whiffling fellow will certainly meet with no better entertainment than that of the old proverbial repartee, Physician, heal thyself." 

33  But because several accidental emergencies in conversation will now and then invite a man, though bad enough himself, to correct others, the most dexterous way of doing it will be to involve ourselves in the same guilt with those we reprehend; as in this passage of Homer, Fie, what's the matter, Diomede, that we Have now forgot our former gallantry? and in this other, We are not worth one single Hector all." Thus Socrates would handsomely twit the young men with their ignorance by professing his own, pretending for his part he had need with them to study morality and make more accurate enquiries into the truth of things. For a confession of the same guilt, and a seeming endeavor to reform ourselves as well as our friends, gives credit to the reprimand and recommends it to their affections. But he who gravely magnifies himself, whilst he imperiously detracts from others, as being a man forsooth of no imperfections, unless his age or a celebrated reputation indeed commands our attention, is only impertinent and troublesome to no purpose. And therefore it was not without reason that Phoenix, checking Achilles for his intemperate anger, confessed his own unhappiness in that particular, how he had like once to have slain his own father through a transport of passion had not the scandalous name of parricide held his hands; that the hero might not imagine he took that liberty with him because he had never offended in the like kind himself. For such inoffensive reproofs leave a deeper impress behind them, when they seem the result of sympathy rather than contempt. But because a mind subject to the disorders of passion, like an inflamed eye that cannot bear a great and glaring light, is impatient of a rebuke, without some temperament to qualify and allay its poignancy, therefore the best remedy in this case will be to dash it with a little praise, as in the following: Think, and subdue! on dastards dead to fame I waste no anger, for they feel no shame; But you, the pride, the flower of all our host, My heart weeps blood to see your glory lost! Where, Pandarus, are all thy honors now, Thy winged arrows and unerring bow, Thy matchless skill, thy yet unrivall'd fame, And boasted glory of the Lycian name!" And such rebukes as these are also most effectual in reclaiming those that are ready to fall into gross enormities: O where are Oidipus and all his riddles now? and Is this the speech of daring Hercules?" For a mixture of both together not only abates and takes off from that roughness and command which a blunt reprehension seems to carry along with it, but raises in a man a generous emulation of himself, whilst the remembrance of his past virtues shames him out of his present vices and makes him propose his former actions for his future example. But if you compare him with other men, as with his fellow-citizens, his contemporaries, or relations, then vice, which loves to dispute the victory, renders him uneasy and impatient under the comparison, and will be apt to make him grumble, and in an huff bid you be gone then to his betters and not trouble him any longer. And therefore we ought not to fall upon other men's commendations before him whom we take the liberty to rebuke, unless indeed they be his parents; as Agamemnon in Homer: Ah! how unlike his sire is Tydeus' son!" and Ulysses in the tragedy called the Scyrians, speaking to Achilles: Dost thou, who sprang from a brave Grecian race By spinning thy great ancestors disgrace? 

34  It is in the next place very improper for a man immediately to retort or recriminate upon his monitor; for this is the way to occasion heats and animosities betwixt them, and will speak him rather impatient of any reproof at all than desirous to recompensate the kindness of one with another. And therefore it is better to take his chiding patiently for the present; and if he chance afterwards to commit a fault worth your remarking upon, you have then an opportunity of repaying him in his own coin. For being reminded, without the least intimation of a former pique or dissatisfaction, that he himself did not use to overlook the slips of his friend, he will receive the remonstrance favorably at your hands, as being the return of kindness rather than of anger and resentment. 

35  Moreover, as Thucydides says that he is a wise man who will not venture to incur odium except for matters of the highest concernment, so, when we do undertake the ungrateful office of censor, it ought to be only upon weighty and important occasions. For he who is peevish and angry at everybody and upon every trivial fault, acting rather with the imperious pedantry of a schoolmaster than the discretion of a friend, blunts the edge of his reprehensions in matters of an higher nature, by squandering, like an unskilful physician, that keen and bitter but necessary and sovereign remedy of his reproofs upon many slight distempers that require not so exquisite a cure. And therefore a wise man will industriously avoid the character of being a person who is always chiding and delights in finding faults. Besides that, whosoever is of that little humor that animadverts upon every trifling peccadillo only affords his friend a fairer occasion of being even with him one time or another for his grosser immoralities. As Philotimus the physician, visiting a patient of his who was troubled with an inflammation in his liver, but showed him his forefinger, told him: Sir, your distemper is not a whitlow. In like manner we may take occasion now and then to reply upon a man who carps at trifles in another, — his diversions, pleasantries, or a glass of wine, — Let the gentleman rather, sir, turn off his whore and leave off his dicing; for otherwise he is an admirable person. For he who is dispensed with in smaller matters more willingly gives his friend the liberty of reprimanding him for greater. But there is neither child nor brother nor servant himself able to endure a man of a busy inquisitive humor, who brawls perpetually, and is sour and unpleasant upon every inconsiderable occasion. 

36  But since a weak and foolish friend, as Euripides says of old age, has its strong as well as its feeble part, we ought to observe both, and cheerfully extol the one before we fall foul upon the other. For as we first soften iron in the fire and then dip it in water, to harden it into a due consistence; so, after we have warmed and mollified our friend by a just commendation of his virtues, we may then safely temper him with a moderate reprehension of his vices. We may then say, Are these actions comparable to the other? Do you not perceive the advantages of a virtuous life? This is what we who are your friends require of you. These are properly your own actions, for which nature designed you; but for the other, Let them for ever from you banished be, To desert mountains or the raging sea." For as a prudent physician had rather recover his patient with sleep and good diet than with castor and scammony, so a candid friend, a good father or schoolmaster, will choose to reform men's manners by commendations rather than reproofs. For nothing in the world renders our corrections so inoffensive and withal so useful as to address ourselves to the delinquent in a kind, affectionate manner. And therefore we ought not to deal roughly with him upon his denial of the matter of fact, nor hinder him from making his just vindication; but we should rather handsomely help him out in his apology and mollify the matter. As Hector to his brother Paris, Unhappy man, by passion overruled;" suggesting that he did not quit the field, in his encounter with Menelaus, out of cowardice, but mere anger and indignation. And Nestor speaks thus to Agamemnon: You only yielded to the great impulse. For to tell a man that he did such a thing through ignorance or inadvertency is, in my opinion, a much more genteel expression than bluntly to say, "You have dealt unjustly or acted basely by me." And to advise a man not to quarrel with his brother is more civil than to say, "Don't you envy and malign him." And "Keep not company with that woman who debauches you" is softer language than "Don't you debauch her." And thus you see with what caution and moderation we must reprehend our friends in reclaiming them from vices to which they are already subjected; whilst the prevention of them doth require a clear contrary method. For when we are to divert them from the commission of a crime, or to check a violent and headstrong passion, or to push on and excite a phlegmatic lazy humor to great things, we may then ascribe their failings to as dishonorable causes as we please. Thus Ulysses, when he would awaken the courage of Achilles, in one of the tragedies of Sophocles, tells him, that it was not the business of a supper that put him in such a fret, as he pretended, but because he was now arrived within sight of the walls of Troy. And when Achilles, in a great chafe at the affront, swore he would sail back again with his squadron and leave him to himself, Ulysses came upon him again with this rejoinder: Come, sir, 'tis not for this you'd sail away; But Hector's near, it is not safe to stay. And thus, by representing to the bold and valiant the danger of being reputed a coward, to the temperate and sober that of being thought a debauchee, and to the liberal and magnificent the chance of being called stingy and sordid, we spur them on to brave actions and divert them from base and ignominious ones. Indeed, when a thing is once done and past remedy, we ought to qualify and attemperate our reproofs, and commiserate rather than reprimand. But if it be a business of pure prevention, of stopping a friend in the career of his irregularities, our applications must be vehement, inexorable, and indefatigable; for this is the proper season for a man to show himself a true monitor and a friend indeed. But we see that even enemies reprove each other for faults already committed. As Diogenes said pertinently enough to this purpose, that he who would act wisely ought to be surrounded either with good friends or flagrant enemies; for the one always teach us well, and the other as constantly accuse us if we do ill. But certainly it is much more eligible to forbear the commission of a fault by hearkening to the good advice of our friends, than afterwards to repent of it by reason of the obloquy of our enemies. And therefore, if for no other reason, we ought to apply our reprehensions with a great deal of art and dexterity, because they are the most sovereign physic that a friend can prescribe, and require not only a due mixture of ingredients in the preparation of them but a seasonable juncture for the patient to take them in. 

37  But because, as it has been before observed, reproofs usually carry something of trouble and vexation along with them, we must imitate skilful physicians, who, when they have made an incision in the flesh, leave it not open to the smart and torment that attends it, but chafe and foment it to assuage the pain. So he who would admonish dexterously must not immediately give a man over to the sting and anguish of his reprehensions, but endeavor to skin over the sore with a more mild and diverting converse; like stone-cutters, who, when they have made a fracture in their statues, polish and brighten them afterwards. But if we leave them in pain with their wounds and resentments, and (as it were) with the scars of our reproofs yet green upon them, they will hardly be brought to admit of any lenitive we shall offer for the future. And therefore they who will take upon them to admonish their friends ought especially to observe this main point, not to leave them immediately upon it, nor abruptly break off the conference with disobliging and bitter expressions. 

1  My Friend Sossius Senecio, Is it possible, do you think, that all the arguments in the world can make a man sensibly assured that he is a proficient in virtue, upon this supposition, that his proceedings do not in the least alleviate and abate his folly, but that the vice in him, weighing in equal balance against his good inclinations, holds him down, as Heavy lead pulls down the yielding net? In the study of music or grammar, I am sure, such a conclusion would be very absurd; for the scholar could never be certain that he had made any improvement in those sciences, if all the while he is a learning he did not exhaust by little and little his former ignorance about them, but remained during the whole progress of his application under the same degree of unskilfulness as at first setting out. The like may be said of those that are under the hands of a physician. According to this assertion, if the patient take physic which does not recruit his strength or give him ease by abating the severity of the distemper, it is absolutely impossible that he should discern any alteration in himself, before the contrary habit is perfectly and in the highest degree induced, and his body thoroughly sound and well. As in these instances you cannot say the persons have advanced any thing, so long as they perceive no sensible change in themselves by the abatement of the contrary weight, and do not find that their minds are elevated, as it were, in the opposite scale; just so, in truth, is it with those that profess philosophy. They cannot be assured of any progress or improvement, if the soul do not gradually advance and purge off the rest of its former imperfections, but still lie under the like equal pressure and grievance of pure, absolute, unmixed evil, till it have attained the state of perfect, supreme good; for the truth of it is, a wise man cannot in a moment of time change from the lowest degree of vice imaginable to the most heroic perfection of virtue, if he only make a brisk attempt to throw off vice all at once, and do not constantly and resolutely endeavor by little and little to lighten the burthen and dispossess the evil habit of it. You know very well how much trouble those give themselves who maintain this assertion, and what strange questions they raise with regard to it, — for instance, why a wise virtuous man should never perceive how he became such, but should either be quite ignorant, or at least doubt, that ever by little and little, now adding something, now subtracting and removing others, he advanced to the aggregate perfection of virtue. Now if (as they affirm) the change from bad to good were either so quick and sudden, as that he that was extremely vicious in the morning may become eminently virtuous at night, or that any one going to bed wicked might chance to rise a virtuous man next morning, and, having all the former day's errors and imperfections absolutely removed out of his mind, might say to them, as it is in the poet, Vain dreams! farewell, like spectres haste away, At the new light of virtue's glorious day;" do you think that any one in the world could be ignorant of so extraordinary a conversion, and perfectly shut his eyes upon the beams of virtue and wisdom so fully and manifestly breaking in upon his soul? In my opinion, if any person should have Caeneus's foolish wish, and be changed (as it is reported he was) from one sex to the other, it is more probable that such a one should be altogether ignorant of the metamorphosis, than that any should, from a lazy, unthinking, debauched fellow, commence a wise, prudent, and valiant hero, and from a sottish bestiality advance to the perfection of divine life, and yet know nothing at all of the change. 

2  It is very good advice, Measure the stone by your rule, and not your rule by the stone. But the Stoics have not observed it; for they, not applying principles to things, but forcing things which have no foundation of agreement in nature to agree to their principles, have filled philosophy with a number of difficulties. One of the hardest to be solved is this, that all men whatsoever (except him who is absolutely perfect) are equally vicious. Hence is that enigma, called progress or proficiency, which, though it has puzzled the learned to solve, is in my opinion very foolish; for it represents those that have advanced a little, and are partly free from inordinate passions and distempers of mind, to be as unhappy as those that are guilty of the most heinous enormities. And indeed the assertion is so absurd, that their own actions are enough to confute it; for while they maintain in their schools that Aristides and Phalaris are equally unjust, that Brasidas and Dolon are equal cowards, and that Plato and Meletus are equally senseless, still in all affairs of life they seem to reject and avoid the latter of these, as too harsh and severe to be softened into compliance, but credit and quote the former in all their writings, as persons of extraordinary worth and esteem. This is what the Stoics assert. 

3  But we, who can better agree with Plato in this point, finding by observation that in all kinds of evils, especially that of a weak and unmanaged disposition of mind, there are several degrees of more and less (for herein one advance differs from another, that the miserable darkness which the soul lies under begins more sensibly to abate, when reason by little and little illuminates and purges the soul), may be bold to affirm that the change from bad to good is very easily and manifestly discernible; not as if one were drawn out of a pit on a sudden, and could give no account of the degrees of the ascent, but so plain that the several steps and advances may be computed. The first argument that comes in my mind is this, by way of simile; pray examine it. You know the art of navigation; when the seamen hoist sail for the main ocean, they give judgment of their voyage by observing together the space of time and the force of the wind that driveth them, and compute that, in all probability, in so many months, with such a gale, they have gone forward to such or such a place. Just so it is in the study of philosophy; one may, if he mind it, give a probable conjecture of a scholar's proceedings. He that is always at his business, constantly upon the road, never makes any steps or halts, nor meets with obstacles and lets in the way, but under the conduct of right reason travels smoothly, securely, and quietly along, may be assured that he has one true sign of a proficient. This of the poet, Add many lesser numbers in account, Your total will to a vast sum amount," not only holds true as to the increase of money, but also may serve as a rule to the knowledge of the advance of every thing else, especially of proficiency in virtue. Reason, besides its ordinary influence, requires the constancy of application and address which is necessary and usual in all other affairs. Whereas, on the contrary, the irregular proceedings and inconsistent silly assertions of some philosophers do not only lay rubs in the way, and break the measures of a virtuous improvement, but seem to give great advantage to vice, during their lingering and idling upon their journey, to tempt them into by-paths, or over persuade them to return whence they set out. Astronomers tell us that planets, after they have finished their progressive motion, for some small time acquiesce and become stationary, as they term it. Now in the study of philosophy it is not so; there is no point of rest or acquiescence during the whole procedure, for the nature of progress is to be always advancing, more or less. The scales in which our actions are, as it were, weighed cannot at all stand in equilibrio, but our soul is continually either raised by the addition of good, or cast with the counterpoise of evil. Therefore, as the oracle told the Cirrhaeans that they ought to fight continually, day and night; so you and every wise man ought to be perpetually upon your guard, and if you can be assured that you maintain a constant combat with vice, that you are always at enmity with it and never so much as come to terms, or receive any diversions, applications, or avocations, as so many heralds from the enemies' camp, in order to a treaty with it; then you may, with a great deal of confidence and alacrity, go on with the management of your warlike expedition, and very reasonably at last expect a conquest, and enjoy a crown of righteousness for your reward. 

4  It is another very good argument to prove that by labor and exercise you have shaken off all stupidity and sluggishness of temper, and that you are arrived at a perfection of virtue, if for the future your resolutions be more firm and your application more intense than they were when you first set out. This appears true, if you but observe its contrary; for it is a very bad sign if, after a small time spent in trial, you find many and repeated intermissions, or your affections yielding or cool in the pursuit. This may be illustrated by what is observable in the growth of a cane. At first it appears above ground with a full and pleasing sprout, which by little and little, taper-wise, by a continued and equal distribution of matter, rises to a very great height. Towards the root you may observe that there are formed certain steps and joints, which are at a considerable distance from one another, because (there) the juice is plentiful and strong. But toward the top the nutrimentive particles vibrate and palpitate, as if they were quite spent with the length of their journey, and thereupon, you see, they form themselves many small, weak, and tender joints, as so many supports and breathing-places. So it happens with those that study philosophy: at first setting out they take long steps and make great advances; but if, after some attempts, they perceive not in themselves any alteration for the better, but meet with frequent checks and avocations the further they go, ordinarily they faint, make any excuses to be off from their engagement, despond of ever going through with it, and thereupon proceed no farther. But, on the contrary, he that is winged with desire flies at the proposed advantage, and by a stout and vigorous pursuit cuts off all pretences of delay from crowding in upon him or hindering his journey. In love, it is a sign the passion is predominant, if the lover be not only pleased in the enjoyment of the beloved object (for that's ordinary), but also troubled and grieved at the absence of it. After a manner not unlike this, many youngsters (as I've observed) stand affected at the study of philosophy. At first, they buckle to their work with the greatest concern and emulation imaginable; but as soon as ever they are diverted, either by business or any little pretences, the heat of their affection immediately flies off, and they sit down ignorant and very well content. But He that perceives the pleasing sting of love, Whose poignant joy his trembling heart doth move," will not only show that he is a proficient by his virtuous demeanor and agreeableness in all company and discourse; but if he be called from his business, you may perceive him all on fire, in pain, and uneasy in whatsoever he does, whether alone or in company, and so concerned that he is unmindful of his best friends till he is restored to the quest of his beloved philosophy. All of us ought to imitate such a noble example in all our studies. We must not be affected with good discourse only while we are in place, as we are with rich fragrant perfumes (which we never mind, but while we are a smelling to them); but if by chance marriage, an estate, love, or a campaign take us from our business, we must still hunger and thirst after virtue; and the more our proficiency is advanced, by so much the more ought our desire to know what we have not attained disquiet and excite us to the further pursuit and knowledge of it. 

5  The grave account which Hesiod gives of proficiency is, in my judgment, either the very same, or comes very near to this which I have now set down. Proficiency is (says he) when all difficulties are removed, all unevenness smoothed and cleared, and the way made easy and passable. It must be smoothed by frequent exercise, cleared by beams of divine light that guide the way to true philosophy, nothing at all of the clouds of doubt, error, or inconstancy in good resolutions remaining, which are as usually incident to learners in their first attempts upon philosophy, as distraction and solicitudes are to those who, sailing from a known land, cannot yet discover the place whither they are bound. Thus I have known impatient sophists skip over common and ordinary notions, before they have learned or attained better, and lose themselves in the middle of their journey in so troublesome a maze, that they would be willing to return (if they could) to their primitive state of quiet, inactive ignorance. Sextius, a nobleman of Rome, may serve for an instance of this. He quitted all offices and places of honor, that he might more freely and undisturbedly apply himself to the study of philosophy. At first he met with many difficulties; and finding himself unable to encounter or conquer them, out of very despair and despondency, he had thoughts of throwing himself out of a little boat into the river Tiber. Parallel to this is a merry story told of Diogenes of Sinope; when he first put on his gown, it happened to be at a time when the Athenians celebrated a festival with extraordinary banquets, night-drinking, sports, and pageantry usual at great solemnities. The philosopher, as he lay in the holidays in the corner of the street, muffled up in his clothes, to try if he could take a nap, had some running thoughts in his head, which checked the resolutions he had taken as to a philosophical life, and troubled him extremely. He reasoned with himself, that there was no necessity for his entering into so troublesome and singular a way of living, that he thereby deprived himself of all the sweets and pleasures of life, and the like. While he was thinking thus with himself, he espied (as the story goes) a mouse venturing toward him, and now and then nibbling at a mouldy crust that he had in his pouch. This sight (which is much) turned his thoughts, and made him vexed and troubled at himself as much on the other side. What (says he) is the matter with thee, Diogenes? Thou seest this tiny mouse lives well, and is very glad of thy scraps; but thou, who must needs be a person of quality, forsooth, art extremely sorry and out of humor, because thou dost not feast upon down-beds, and canst not have the genteel privilege at this merry time to be drunk as well as others. Another rational argument of gradual proficiency is when avocations are not frequent upon us, and when they happen, very short; while the substantial rules and precepts of wisdom, as if they had been violently driven out, presently return upon our minds, and dispossess all empty trouble and disconsolate thoughts. 

6  And because scholars do not only fancy to themselves difficulties big enough to divert their weak resolutions, but also often meet with serious persuasions from their friends to leave their studies, and because sometimes such smart jests and drolls are put upon them as have often discouraged, frequently quite converted, the endeavors of some; it may seem to you a very good argument of a proficient, if you find yourself indifferent and unconcerned in that point. As, for example, not to be cut to the heart and repine, when you are told that such and such persons by name, your equals once, live splendidly at court, have married great fortunes, or have appeared publicly at the head of a great many freeholders, that are ready to vote for them for some great office or representative's place. He that is neither discomposed nor very much affected by such news as this is manifestly in the right, and has philosophy by the surer handle. For it is impossible we should leave admiring things which most men esteem, if the habit of virtue were not deeply rooted in us. To avoid passionately what every one cries down may be in some persons the effect of anger and ignorance; but utterly to despise what is admired abroad is a certain sign of true and solid wisdom and resolution. With what satisfaction and complacency many persons advanced to such a height of virtue compare themselves with others, and break out in these verses of Solon! We will not change Virtue's immortal crown For a whole mine of gold. Gold is uncertain; but what we possess Is still our own, and never can be less. None can deny but that it was very great in Diogenes to compare his shifting from the city of Corinth to Athens, and from Thebesto Corinth, to the king of Persia's taking his progress in the spring to Susa, in winter to Babylon, and to Media in summer. Nor was it an argument of a much less spirit in Agesilaus, who, hearing this same king of Persia styled the Great, presently asked, In what is he greater than I, if he be not juster than I am? Aristotle himself had exactly such notions in the like case; for, writing to Antipater about his scholar Alexander, he says of him, that he ought not to value himself in this respect, that he was advanced above others; for whoever had a true notion of God was really as great as he. And Zeno too deserves to be mentioned, who, hearing Theophrastus commended above any of the philosophers for his number of scholars, put it off thus: His choir is indeed larger than mine, but mine has the sweeter voices. 

7  From all these instances you may collect this great truth, that whenever you do, by setting the comforts of virtue and the difficulties and errors of study one against the other, perceive that you have utterly expelled all emulation, jealousy, and every thing else that uses to disturb or discourage young men, you may then assuredly conclude with yourself that you have made very laudable progress. Another argument of proficiency in virtue is the alteration of your very style of writing, and of your way of managing any argument or discourse. Most of those that nowadays design for scholars (in ordinary speaking) do prosecute almost none but popular studies; to furnish out discourse, and make themselves, as the phrase is, plausible men; some few of them there are who, like silly larks, are taken with the glaring light of natural philosophy, and, measuring themselves by their own levity and conceit, think they are able presently to attain the height of that science. Others like young whelps ('tis Plato's simile) love to snap and bite at one another, only to gratify a contentious, sceptical, and sophistical humor, which they at first got by bad tuition and ill-managed studies. Some again, as soon as ever they are initiated in the principles of logic, presently commence as sophists. Others spend their whole time in collecting sentences and historical narrations. These (as Anacharsis said of the Grecians, that he saw no occasion they had for money, but only to count and tell it over) have nothing at all to do, but go about singing and repeating what they have collected into commonplace books, without any other benefit or satisfaction from their labors. To these you may apply that of Antiphanes, which one ingeniously turned to Plato's scholars. This Antiphanes said merrily, that in a certain city the cold was so intense that words were congealed as soon as spoken, but that after some time they thawed and became audible, so that the words spoken in winter were articulated next summer. Even so, the many excellent precepts of Plato, which he instilled into the tender ears of his scholars, were scarce perceived and distinguished by many of them, till they grew men and attained the warm vigorous summer of their age. Such a cool disposition to virtue and philosophy, as that philosopher said was in Plato's scholars when young, often lasts in the most of us (as was hinted before) till our judgments grow to a solid firmness and maturity, and we begin to value those precepts that are able to beget a composure and greatness of mind, and diligently to trace and follow those discourses and precepts whose tracks (as it is in Aesop's fables) rather look inward than outward, to ourselves rather than others. Sophocles said of himself, that in writing his tragedies he first of all abated and pricked the tumor of Aeschylus's invention, then corrected the harshness and over artifice of his composition, and, last of all, changed his very style and elocution, the thing which is most considerably persuasive, and which most of all conduces to good manners. Even so, young students, when they pass from the fulness and luxuriancy of panegyric and declamation to that more solid part of philosophy that regulates manners and smooths all rugged and disorderly passions, then begin really to attain true and solid proficiency. 

8  Hereupon let me advise you this, — whenever you read the writings or hear the orations of the philosophers, attend always things more than words, and be not taken with what is curious and of a delicate thread and contexture, more than that which is strong, nervous, and beneficial. So also, in perusing poems or histories, be sure that nothing escape you that is appositely said, in relation to the cultivating of manners or the calming turbulent, immoderate passions; but always give it a note, and make it surely your own. Simonides said that a student in philosophy should be like a bee. That laborious creature, when it is amongst flowers, makes it its business industriously to extract the yellow honey out of them all; while others care and seek for nothing else except the smell and the color. So, while some others employ their time in reading the poets only for diversion, or for the wit and fancy which usually adorn their works, you (my dear friend) like a bee amongst a swarm of drones, observe and collect what is sweet, palatable, and worthy your pains, and seem already, by your constant custom and application, to have attained a perfect knowledge of what is eminently good and proper. As to those that peruse the works of Plato and Xeno phon only for the style's sake, and do cull out what is elegant and Attic, as the cream and flower of those authors, pray what do they do but as it were admire the fragrancy and flavor of medicinal drugs, yet, at the same time, neither understand nor enquire after their healing and purgative qualities? Whereas, those that have advanced to a higher degree of perfection can extract benefit, not only from philosophical discourses, but also from every thing they see or do, and thence draw something that may be proper and fit for their purpose. I will give you some examples of Aeschylus and other very eminent men, which may be very pat to this purpose. Aeschyluschanced to be a spectator at the Isthmian games, where some were engaged at sword play; seeing one of the combatants wounded, and observing that the theatre immediately made a great shouting and hollowing upon it, he jogged one Ion, an inhabitant of the island Chios, who sat next to him, and whispered him thus, Do you see what exercise can do? He that is wounded holds his peace, and the spectators cry out. Brasidas, the Lacedemoniancaptain, by chance caught a mouse among some dry figs; and, being bit by her, let her go, with this exclamation, By Hercules! there is no creature so little or so weak, that it cannot preserve its life if it dares but defend it. Diogenesmay serve for a thousand instances; when he saw a boy drink out of the palm of his hand, he threw away his dish, which he used to carry always with him in his wallet. Thus sedulity and application have a singular virtue to make us knowing and able to extract motives to virtue from every thing that we meet with. Nor is it a difficult matter to attain such a temper of mind, if the candidates for virtue intermix discourse and reading with their actions; not only "exercising themselves amidst dangers" (as Thucydides said to some), but also engaging pleasures, disputing hard questions, examining precedents, pleading causes, and so (to try themselves thoroughly) undertaking some magistracy or public office, giving thereby demonstration of their opinions and resolution, or rather establishing their resolution by exercise. Whereas, those that are not bred to it, but like novices spy out and catch at any thing that is curious in books, and pragmatically run away with it either to the Exchange, the College, or some club or tavern, deserve no more the name of philosophers, than those quacks that only truck off vile drugs and potions merit the character and value of physicians. Those sophists seem to me not unlike the bird mentioned in Homer, and to have something of its quality. Whatsoever they catch abroad they presently bring home with them, and cram it into their unfledged chicks, their illiterate scholars, starving their own empty crops the while, as the poet has it; for they neither digest nor convert what they take into true nourishment. 

9  It is then indispensably our duty so to manage our discourse, that it may be beneficial both to ourselves and others, we not incurring the censure of being thought vain-glorious or arrogant by any; to be always readier to hear than to teach; and, especially, so to abate and moderate all vehemency and passionate quarrelling about trivial questions, as that we may cease to attend and manage disputations with the same indifferency as you may have seen some exercise hurlbats and cudgelling, — that is, so as to leave the stage with more satisfaction for having had a true hit or coming off conqueror, than for having either learned ourselves or taught our antagonist any manner of skill by the engagement. An evenness and mildness of temper in all such affairs, which never will suffer us to enter the lists with vehemency and passion, nor to be hot and concerned in settling an argument, nor to scold and give bad words when we have vanquished our adversary, nor to be very much dejected if we chance to be quite baffled, is (I think) a true sign of a great proficient in virtue. Aristippus was a great example of this; for when in a set disputation he was baffled by the sophistry and forehead of an impudent, wild, and ignorant disputant, and observed him to be flushed and high with the conquest; Well! says the philosopher, I am certain, I shall sleep quieter to-night than my antagonist. Not only upon the close and event of our philosophical contests, but even in the midst of disputation, we may (privately) take an estimate of this good quality in us, which is a sign of a true proficient; for example, if, upon a greater appearance of auditors than was expected, we be not afraid nor in confusion; if, at the thinness of the congregation, when there are but a few to hear us, we be not dejected and troubled; and lastly, if, when we are to speak before a numerous or honorable assembly, we do not, for want of fitting preparation, miss the opportunity for ever. It is reported that two as famous orators as ever were, Demosthenes and Alcibiades, were somewhat weak and faulty in this point. The timorousness of the former is known to every school-boy; and as for Alcibiades, though he was (as must be confessed) as sagacious and happy in his thoughts as any man whatever, yet, for want of a little assurance in speaking a thing, he very often miserably lost himself in his pleadings; for he would falter and make pauses in the very middle of his orations, purely for want of a single word or some neat expression, that he had in his papers but could not presently remember. To give you another instance of the prince of poets, Homer; he was so blinded with an over-confidence of his abilities in poetry, that he has slipped a false quantity, and left it on record, in the very first verse of his Iliads. Seeing then the learnedest men and greatest artists have failed and may fail for want of caution or confidence, it ought more nearly to concern those that earnestly follow virtue, not to slip the least opportunity of improvement, either by company or otherwise; and not overmuch to regard the throng or applause of the theatre, when they do exercise or make any solemn harangue. 

10  Nor is it enough that one take care of all his discourses and orations; but he ought also to observe that the whole tenor of his actions be guided by profit rather than vain pomp, and by truth rather than ostentation. For if a passionate lover who has placed his affection upon any beloved object seeks no witnesses to attest its sincerity, but has such an eager desire when alone and in private, that, like a covered flame, it burns more vigorously and insensibly for being shut up; much more ought a moralist and a philosopher who has attained both the habit and exercise of virtue sit down self-contented, and applaud himself in private, neither needing nor desiring encomiasts or auditors from abroad. There is an humor in some of the poets, of an old peevish housekeeper, that calls to his maid aloud: Do you see, Dionysia (that is his maid's name), I am now pleased, and have laid by all choler and passion. Just such like is the practice of some, who, as soon as they have done any thing which is obliging and civil, presently blaze it abroad, and turn their own heralds. Such men show plainly that they look beyond themselves for satisfaction; that they are desirous of praise and applause; and that they never were admitted near spectators of virtue, never saw her in her noble, royal dress, but only had some transient sight of her in a dream or an empty airy phantasm; and indeed, that they expose their actions to the public, as painters do their pictures, to be gazed at and admired by the gaping multitude. Another sign of a proficient in virtue is, when the proficient has given any thing to his friend or done any kindness for any one, if he keeps it to himself and does not blab it to anybody; and (which is more) if he hath voted right against a majority of biassed suffragans, withstood the dishonest attempts of some rich and powerful man, generously rejected bribes when offered, abstained from inordinate drinking when athirst and alone, or at night, when none sees or knows what he does, lastly, if he hath conquered the briskest attempts of love (as is said of Agesilaus); if (I say) he contain himself from speaking of such actions, and do not in company boast of his performances. This I affirm, — such a one as can prove and try himself by himself, and be fully satisfied in the verdict of his conscience, as of an unexceptionable witness and spectator of what is right and good, shows plainly that his reason looks inward and is well rooted within him, and that the man (as Democritus said) is accustomed to take satisfaction from himself. To borrow a simile from husbandmen and those that are concerned in the business of the fields, they are always best pleased to see those ears of corn which decline and by reason of their fulness bend downwards to the earth, but look upon those as empty, deceitful, and insignificant, which, because they have nothing in them, grow bolt upright and appear above the rest. So it is amongst students in philosophy; those that are most empty-headed, and have least firmness and solidity, have always the greatest share of confidence, formality, and stiffness in their address, look biggest, walk with the most state, and top upon and condemn others, with the highest arrogance and severity of any living. But when once their brains begin to fill and become well poised with solid notions, they look down into themselves, and quite lay aside that insolent and arrogant humor, which is proper only to youngsters. Give me leave to illustrate this by one simile more. When you pour water into bottles or any other vessels, upon its being instilled into them, the air that was in them before presently flies out and gives place to the more substantial body. Even so it is with those that have had many good precepts instilled into them, and their minds replenished with solid truths. They presently find that all empty vanity flies off; that the imposthume of pride breaks; that they do not value themselves for beard and gown only, but bend their actions and endeavors to the bettering of their rational faculties; and, lastly, that when they reprove they begin at home, turning the edge of their satire and invective upon themselves, even when at the same time they are civil and complaisant to all others beside. It is indeed an argument of a generous and truly brave disposition in a scholar, not to assume the name and character of one, and, as some use to do, to put the philosopher amongst his titles; but if any out of respect chance to give him that compellation, to be surprised, blush, and with a modest smile answer him in that of the poet, You compliment your friend; he whom you so commend Must needs be more than man, — far more than I pretend." Aeschylus says of a young woman that, if ever she have played the wanton, you may discover it in her eyes, and read her affections in amorous glances which she cannot conceal; so a young scholar, if he be once entered in the mysteries and have tasted the sweets of philosophy, cannot possibly suppress the passion and concern for it; as Sappho says, his tongue falters when he would speak its praise; his heart is warm with affection; A secret flame does run through every part. You would admire and love the assurance and composedness of his looks, the affectionateness of his eyes, and especially the winning decency and agreeableness of his words and expressions. Those that are to be initiated in the ceremonies of the Gods run at first with a great deal of noise, clamor, and rudeness; but once the sacred things are done and revealed they attend with a profound silence and religious fear. So it is with the candidates in philosophy; you may perceive a throng, noise, and pother about the school-doors, by reason that several press thither eagerly, rudely, and violently for reputation, more than learning; but when you are once in, and manifestly see the great light, as if palaces were opened unto you, you are presently possessed with a quite different notion of things; are struck with silence and admiration, and begin, with humility and a reverent composure, to comply with and follow the divine oracle. That which Menedemus said in another case is very apposite to this sort of men. Those that went to the school of Athens were first of all (σοφοί) wise, next (φιλόσοφοι) lovers of wisdom, then orators, and at last, in course of time, plain common men; for the longer they applied themselves to study and philosophy, so much the more all vanity, pride, and pedantry abated in them, and the nearer they came to plain, downright, honest men. 

11  Again, as it is with those that are indisposed and out of order, — some, if a tooth or finger do but ache, presently run to a physician; others send for one to their houses, if they find themselves but the least feverish and desire his advice and assistance; but those that are either melancholical, or but any ways crazed in their heads, cannot endure so much as the looks of a physician, but either keep out of sight when he comes or command him to be gone, being altogether insensible of their condition, — so, in persons that commit any heinous crime or fall into any error, I look upon those as perfectly incurable, who take it ill to be admonished of their fault and look upon reproof and admonition as the greatest rudeness and incivility in the world, whereas those that can quietly hearken and submit to the advice of friends and superiors deserve a more favorable opinion, and may be thought to be of a much better disposition. But the greatest character of hopeful men, and such as may be probably excellent proficients in time, belongs to those who, upon a commission of a fault, immediately apply themselves to such as will reprove and correct them; who plainly disclose their grief and open their malady; who do not rejoice in concealing their distemper, and are not content to have their troubles unknown; lastly, who make a full confession of what they have done amiss, and desire the help of a friend to examine and direct them for the future. Diogenes, I am sure, was of this opinion. He said, that whosoever would be certainly and constantly in the right must get either a virtuous good friend or an incensed ill-natured enemy to his monitor; the one by gentle admonition to reprove and persuade him, the other to work upon him by severity, and awe him into a virtuous course of life. There is a sort of men in the world, that are so vain and foolish as to take a pride in being the first discoverers of their own imperfections; if they have but a rent or spot in their clothes, or have got a torn pair of shoes on, they are the most forward of any to tell it in company; and (which is more) they are very apt, out of a silly, empty, arrogant humor, to make themselves the subject of their drollery, if they are of a dwarfish stature or any way deformed; yet (which is strange) these very men, at the very same time, endeavor to excuse and palliate the internal imperfections of the mind and the more ugly deformities of the soul, as envy, evil-custom, detraction, voluptuousness, etc., and will not suffer any one either to see or probe them. These are, as it were, so many sore places, and they cannot endure to have them touched and meddled with. Such men as these (I may be bold to say) have very few signs of proficiency, or rather none at all. Now, on the contrary, he that examines his own failings with the greatest severity, that impartially blames or corrects himself as often as he does amiss, or (which is almost as commendable) grows firmer and better by present advice, as well as more able and ready to endure a reprimand for the future, seems to me truly and sincerely to have rejected and forsaken vice. It is certainly our duty to avoid all appearance of evil, and to be ashamed to give occasion even to be reputed vicious; yet evil reports are so inconsiderable to a wise man, that, if he have a greater aversion to the nature of evil than to the infamy that attends it, he will not fear what is said of him abroad, nor what calumnies are raised, if so be he be made the better by them. It was handsomely said of Diogenes, when he saw a young spark coming out of a tavern, who at the sight of him drew back: Do not retire, says he, for the more you go backward, the more you will be in the tavern. Even so every vicious person, the more he denies and palliates vice, the more aggravates and confirms it, and with surer footing goes farther into wickedness; like some persons of ordinary rank and quality, who, while they assume above themselves, and out of arrogance would be thought rich, are made really poor and necessitous, by pretending to be otherwise. Hippocrates, a man of wonderful skill in physic, was very ingenuous in this point, and fit to be imitated by the greatest proficients in philosophy. He confessed publicly, that he had mistaken the nature of the sutures in the skull, and has left an acknowledgment of his ignorance upon record, under his own hand; for he thought it very unworthy a man of his profession not to discover where he was in the wrong, seeing others might suffer and err by his authority. And, indeed, it had been very unreasonable, if he, whose business and concern it was to save others and to set them right, should not have had the courage to cure himself, and to discover his weakness and imperfections in his own faculty. Pyrrhon and Bion (two eminent philosophers) have given rules of proficiency; but they seem rather signs of a complete habit of virtue, than a progressive disposition to it. Bion told his friend, that they then might be assured of their proficiency, when they could endure a reproof from anybody with the same indifferency and unconcernedness as they could hear the highest encomiums, even such a one as this of the poet: Sir, Some heavenly flame inspires your breast; Live great, rejoice, and be for ever blest." The other, to wit, Pyrrhon, being at sea and in great danger, by reason of a tempest that arose, took particular notice (as the story goes) of a hog that was on board, which all the while very unconcernedly fed upon some corn which lay scattered about; he showed it to his companions, and told them that they ought to acquire by reading and philosophy such an apathy and unconcernedness in all accidents and dangers as they saw that poor creature naturally have. 

12  The opinion which is said to be Zeno's may deserve our consideration. He said that any one might give a guess at his proficiency from the observation of his dreams, if when asleep he fancied nothing that was immodest, nor seemed to consent to any wicked actions or dishonest intentions, but found his fancy and passions of his mind undisturbed, in a constant calm, as it were, always serene, and enlightened with the beams of divine reason. This very notion was hinted by Plato (as I interpret his words), where he is describing and delineating the soul which is tyrannical in its nature, and showing what manner of operations its fantasy and irrational appetite exert. When a man is asleep, he says, a vicious person designs the satisfying incestuous lust, has a longing for all sorts of meat indifferently, whether allowed or prohibited, and satisfies his appetite and desire in all manner of intemperance which is loose and unregarded, which, in the day-time, either the laws shame him out of, or fear to offend restrains As now those brute beasts that are accustomed to labor will not, if the reins be let loose, either turn aside or offer to leave the track or stumble in it, so it is with the brutal faculty of the mind; when it is once made tame and manageable by the strength of reason, then it is unwilling carelessly to transgress or saucily to disobey its sovereign's commands or to comply with any inordinate lusts, either in sleep or sickness; but it carefully observes and maintains its dictates to which it is accustomed, and by frequent exercise advances to perfect strength and intention of virtue. We find even in our own nature the strange effects of custom. Man is naturally able, by much exercise and the use of a stoical apathy, to bring the body and all its members into subjection, so that not one organ shall perform its operation, — the eyes shall not burst out with tears upon the sight of a lamentable object, the heart shall not palpitate upon the apprehension of fear, and the passions shall not be roused at the sight of any beautiful person, whether man or woman. Now it is much more probable that the faculties of the sense may be so brought in subjection by undergoing such exercise as we speak of, that all its imaginations and motions may be smoothed and made agreeable to right reason, even when we are asleep and keep not sentry. It is reported of Stilpo the philosopher, that he thought he saw Poseidon in his sleep, and that he seemed very much displeased with him, because he had not (as was usual with his priests) sacrificed an ox in honor of him. Not in the least daunted at the apparition, he thus boldly accosted it: Poseidon! what's this business you here complain of? You come hither like a child, and are angry with me, because I did not borrow money and run in debt to please you, and fill the city with costly odors, but privately sacrificed to you in my own house such ordinary victims as I could get. At this confident reply, Poseidon smiled, and (as the story goes) reached him his hand, as an assurance of his good-will to him, and told him that for his sake he would send the Megarians abundance of fish that season. In the main we may conclude thus much, that those that have clear and pleasant dreams, and are not troubled with any frightful, strange, vicious, or irregular apparitions in their sleep, may assure themselves that they have some indications and dawnings of proficiency; whereas, on the contrary, those dreams which are mixed with any pain, fear, cowardly aversions from good, childish exultation, or silly grief, so that they are both frightful and unaccountable, are like the breaking waves or the billows of the sea; for the soul, not having attained a perfect evenness of temper, but being under the formation of laws and precepts from whose guidance and discovery it is free in time of sleep, is then slacked from its usual intenseness, and laid open to all passions whatever. Whether this temper we speak of be an argument of proficiency, or an indication of some other habit which has taken deep root in the soul, grown strong and immovable by all the power of reason, I leave to you to consider and determine. 

13  Seeing then an absolute apathy or freedom from all passions whatsoever is a great and divine perfection, and, withal, considering that progress seems to consist in a certain remission and moderation of those very passions we carry about us, it unavoidably follows, that if we will observe our passions, with relation to one another and also to themselves, we may easily find out their differences. For example, first, we may observe from the passions compared with themselves whether our desires be now more moderate than they used to be, fear and anger less and more calm, and whether or no we are more able to quench the heat and flame of our passions than we used to be. Secondly, by comparing them with one another, we may observe whether we now have a greater share of shame than of fear, whether emulation be without any mixture of envy, whether we have greater desire of glory than of riches, whether we offend (as the musicians term it) in the Dorian or base or in the Lydian or treble notes, — that is, whether we are more inured to abstinence and hardship than otherwise, — whether we are unwilling rather than forward to appear in public, and, lastly, whether we are undue admirers of the persons or performances of others, or despisers both of them and what they can do. As it is a good sign of recovery of a sick person if the distemper lie in the less principal parts of the body; so in proficiency, if vicious habits be changed into more tolerable passions, it is a symptom that they are going off and ready to be quenched. Phrynis the musician, to his seven strings adding two more, was asked by the magistrates, whether he had rather they should cut the upper or lower of them, the base or treble. Now it is our business to cut off (as it were) both what is above and below, if we would attain to the true medium and equality; for proficiency in the first place remits the excess, and sweetens the harmony of the evil affections, which is (according to Sophocles) The madman's greatest pleasure and disease. 

14  We have already said that we ought to transfer our judgment to action, and not to suffer our words to remain bare and naked words, but to reduce them to deeds; and that this is the chiefest sign of a proficient. Now another manifest indication is a desire of those things we commend, and a readiness to perform those things which we admire, but whatsoever we discommend, neither to will or endure it. It is probable that all the Athenians highly extolled the courage and valor of Miltiades. But Themistocles (who professed that the trophies of Miltiades broke his sleep, and often forced him out of his bed) did not only praise and admire what he had done, but was manifestly struck with a zeal and emulation of his performances. Therefore we may be assured that we have profited little, while we think it a vanity to admire those that have done well, and cannot possibly be raised to an imitation of them. To love the person of any man is not sufficient, except it have a mixture of emulation; no more is that love of virtue ardent and exciting, which does not put us forward, and create in our breasts (instead of envy to them) a zealous affection for all good men, and a desire of equal perfection with them. For it is not enough (as Alcibiades was wont to say) that the heart should be turned upside down by hearing the discourses of a philosopher, and that the tears should gush from the eyes; but he that is a proficient indeed, comparing himself with the designs and actions of a good perfect man, is pricked at the same with the consciousness of his own weakness, and transported with hope and desire, and big with irresistible assurance; and indeed such a one is (as Simonides says) like a little sucking foal running by the mother's side, and desires to be incorporated into the very same nature with a good man. For this is an especial sign of true proficiency, to love and affect their way of life whose actions we emulate, and, upon account of an honorable opinion we always entertain for them, to do as they do. But whosoever he is that entertains a contentious or malicious design against his betters, let him be assured that he is possessed with a greedy desire of honor or greatness, but has neither a true respect nor admiration for virtue. 

15  When therefore we once begin so to love good men, as not only (according to Plato) to esteem the wise man himself happy, and him who hears his discourses sharer in his felicity, but also to admire and love his habit, gait, look, and very smile, so as to wish ourselves to be that very person, then we may be assured that we have made very good proficiency. This assurance will be advanced, if we do not only admire good men in prosperity, but like lovers, who are taken ever with the lisping and pale looks of their mistresses (as Araspes is said to have been smitten with the tears and dejected looks of a mournful and afflicted Panthea), have an affection for virtue in its most mournful dress, so as not at all to dread the banishment of Aristides, the imprisonment of Anaxagoras, the poverty of Socrates, nor the hard fate of Phocion, but to embrace and respect their virtues, even under such injustice, and upon thoughts of it, to repeat this verse of Euripides: How do all fortunes decently become A generous, well-tuned soul! This is certain, if any one addresses himself to virtue with this resolution, not to be dejected at the appearance of difficulty, but heartily admires and prosecutes its divine perfection, none of the evil we have spoken of can divert his good intentions. To what I have said I may add this, that when we go upon any business, undertake any office, or chance upon any affair whatever, we must set before our eyes some excellent person, either alive or dead; and consider with ourselves what Plato for the purpose would have done in this affair, what Epaminondas would have said, how Lycurgus or Agesilaus would have behaved themselves, that, addressing ourselves and adorning our minds at these mirrors, we may correct every disagreeing word and irregular passion. It is commonly said, that those that have got by heart the names of the Idaei Dactyli make use of them as charms to drive away fear, if they can but confidently repeat them one by one; so the consideration and remembrance of good men, being present and entertained in our minds, do preserve our proficiency in all affections and doubts regular and immovable; wherefore you may judge that this is also a token of a proficient in virtue. 

16  You may observe further, that not to be in a confusion, not to blush, not to hide or correct your clothes or any thing about you, at the unexpected appearance of an honorable and wise person, but to have an assurance as if you were often conversant with such, is almost a perfect demonstration of a very intelligent person. It is reported of Alexander, that one night seeing a messenger joyfully running towards him and stretching out his hand, as if he had something to deliver to him, he said to the apparition, Friend, what news do you bring me? Is Homer risen from the dead? That admirable monarch thought that nothing was wanting to his great exploits but such a herald as Homer. Consider this, if a young man thrive in the world, it is customary for him to desire nothing more than to be seen in the company of virtuous and good men, to show them his whole furniture, his table, his wife and children, his study, his diary or collections; and he is so pleased with himself, that he wishes his father or tutor were alive, that they might see him in so good a way of living; and he could heartily pray that they were alive, to be spectators of his life and actions. But, on the contrary, those that have neglected their business, or lost themselves in the world, cannot endure the sight or company of their relations without a great deal of fear and confusion. 

17  Join this, if you please, to what we said before; for it is no small sign, if the proficient thus esteem every little fault a great one, and studiously observe and avoid all. For, as those persons who despair of ever being rich make little account of small expenses, thinking that little added to a little will never make any great sum, but when they come once to have got a competency, and hope to be at last very rich, it advances their desires, so it happens in the affairs of virtue; — he that does not quiet his mind by saying with himself, "What matters it what comes after? if for the present it be so and so, yet better days will come," but who attends every thing, and is not careless if the least vice pass uncondemned, but is troubled and concerned at it, such a one makes it appear that he has attained something that is pure, which he brightens by use and will not suffer to corrupt. For a preconceived opinion that nothing we have is valuable (according to Aeschylus) makes us careless and indifferent about every thing. If any one be to make a dry wall or an ordinary hedge, it matters not much if he makes use of ordinary wood or common stone, any old gravestones, or the like; so wicked persons, who confusedly mix and blend all their designs and actions in one heap, care not what materials they put together. But the proficients in virtue, who have already laid the golden solid foundation of a virtuous life, as of a sacred and royal building, take especial care of the whole work, examine and model every part of it according to the rule of reason, believing that it was well said by Polycletus, that the hardest work remained for them to do whose nails must touch the clay; — that is, to lay the top stone is the great business and masterpiece of the work. The last stroke gives beauty and perfection to the whole piece. 

1  Not to mention, Cornelius Pulcher, your gentle as well as skilful administration of public affairs, for which goodness and humanity you have gotten an interest in mankind, we clearly perceive that in your private conversation you have made a quiet and peaceable way of living your choice and continual practice. By this means you are justly esteemed a useful member of the commonwealth in general, and also a friendly affable companion to those who familiarly converse with you, as being a person free from all sour, rough, and peevish humors. For, as it is said of Crete, we may by great chance discover one single region of the world that never afforded any dens or coverts for wild beasts. But through the long succession of ages, even to this time, there scarce ever was a state or kingdom that hath not suffered under envy, hatred, emulation, the love of strife, fierce and unruly passions, of all others the most productive of enmity and ill-will among men. Nay, if nothing else will bring it to pass, familiarity will at last breed contempt, and the very friendship of men doth frequently draw them into quarrels, that prove sharp and sometimes implacable. Which that wise man Chilo did well understand, who, when he heard another assert that he had no enemy, asked him very pertinently whether he had no friend. In my judgment therefore it is absolutely necessary that a man, especially if he sit at the helm and be engaged to steer the government, should watchfully observe every posture and motion of his enemy, and subscribe to Xenophon's opinion in this case; who hath set it down as a maxim of the greatest wisdom, that a man should make the best advantage he can of him that is his adversary. Wherefore, having lately determined to write somewhat on this argument, I have now gathered together all my scattered thoughts and meditations upon it, which I have sent to you, digested into as plain a method as I could; forbearing all along to mention those observations I have heretofore made and written in my Political Precepts, because I know you have that treatise at your hand, and often under your eye. 

2  Our ancestors were well satisfied and content if they could safely guard themselves from the violent incursions of wild beasts, and this was the end and object of all their contests with these creatures. But their posterity have laid down their weapons of defence, and have invented a quite contrary use of them, making them serviceable to some of the chief ends of human life. For their flesh serves for food, and their hair for clothing; medicines and antidotes are devised out of their entrails; and their skins are converted into armor. So that we may upon good grounds fear that, if these supplies should fail, their manner of life would appear savage, destitute of convenient food and raiment, barbarous and naked. Although we receive these benefits and comforts from the very beasts, yet some men suppose themselves happy and secure enough, provided they escape all harm from enemies, not regarding Xenophon's judgment, whom they ought to credit in this matter, that every man endowed with common sense and understanding may, if he please, make his opposites very useful and profitable to him. Because then we cannot live in this world out of the neighborhood of such as will continually labor to do us injury or oppose us, let us search out some way whereby this advantage and profit from enemies may be acquired. The best experienced gardener cannot so change the nature of every tree, that it shall yield pleasant and welltasted fruit; neither can the craftiest huntsman tame every beast. One therefore makes the best use he can of his trees, the other of his beast; although the first perhaps are barren and dry, the latter wild and ungovernable. So seawater is unwholesome and not to be drunk; yet it affords nourishment to all sorts of fish, and serves as it were for a chariot to convey those who visit foreign countries. The Satyr would have kissed and embraced the fire the first time he saw it; but Prometheus bids him take heed, else he might have cause to lament the loss of his beard, if he came too near that which burns all it touches. Yet this very fire is a most beneficial thing to mankind; it bestows upon us the blessings both of light and heat, and serves those who know how to use it for the most excellent instrument of mechanic arts. Directed by these examples, we may be able to take right measures of our enemies, considering that by one handle or other we may lay hold of them for the use and benefit of our lives; though otherwise they may appear very untractable and hurtful to us. There are many things which, when we have obtained them by much labor and sweat, become nauseous, ungrateful, and directly contrary to our inclinations; but there are some (you know) who can turn the very indispositions of their bodies into an occasion of rest and freedom from business. And hard pains that have fallen upon many men have rendered them only the more robust through vigorous exercise. There are others who, as Diogenes and Crates did, have made banishment from their native country and loss of all their goods a means to pass out of a troublesome world into the quiet and serene state of philosophy and mental contemplation. So the Stoic Zeno welcomed the good fortune, when he heard the ship was broken wherein his adventures were, because she had reduced him to a torn coat, to the safety and innocence of a mean and low condition. For as some creatures of strong constitutions eat serpents and digest them well, — nay, there are some whose stomachs can by a strange powerful heat concoct shells or stones, — while on the contrary, there are the weak and diseased, who loathe even bread and wine, the most agreeable and best supports of human life; so the foolish and inconsiderate spoil the very friendships they are engaged in, but the wise and prudent make good use of the hatred and enmity of men. 

3  To those then who are discreet and cautious, the most malignant and worst part of enmity becomes advantageous and useful. But what is this you talk of all this while? An enemy is ever diligent and watchful to contrive stratagems and lay snares for us, not omitting any opportunity whereby he may carry on his malicious purposes. He lays siege to our whole life, and turns spy into the most minute action of it; not as Lynceus is said to look into oaks and stones, but by arts of insinuation he gets to the knowledge of our secrets, by our bosom friend, domestic servant, and intimate acquaintance. As much as possibly he can, he enquires what we have done, and labors to dive into the most hidden counsels of our minds. Nay, our friends do often escape our notice, either when they die or are sick, because we are careless and neglect them; but we are apt to examine and pry curiously almost into the very dreams of our enemies. Now our enemy (to gratify his ill-will towards us) doth acquaint himself with the infirmities both of our bodies and mind, with the debts we have contracted, and with all the differences that arise in our families, all which he knows as well, if not better, than ourselves. He sticks fast to our faults, and chiefly makes his invidious remarks upon them. Nay, our most depraved affections, that are the worst distempers of our minds, are always the subjects of his inquiry; just as vultures pursue putrid flesh, noisome and corrupted carcasses, because they have no perception of those that are sound and in health. So our enemies catch at our failings, and then they spread them abroad by uncharitable and ill-natured reports. Hence we are taught this useful lesson for the direction and management of our conversations in the world, that we be circumspect and wary in every thing we speak or do, as if our enemy always stood at our elbow and overlooked every action. Hence we learn to lead blameless and inoffensive lives. This will beget in us vehement desires and earnest endeavors of restraining disorderly passions. This will fill our minds with good thoughts and meditations, and with strong resolutions to proceed in a virtuous and harmless course of life. For as those commonwealths and cities know best how to value the happiness of having good and wholesome laws, and most admire and love the safety of a quiet and peaceable constitution of things, which have been harassed by wars with their neighbors or by long expeditions; so those persons who have been brought to live soberly by the fear and awe of enemies, who have learned to guard against negligence and idleness, and to do every thing with a view to some profitable end, are by degrees (they know not how) drawn into a habit of living so as to offend nobody, and their manners are composed and fixed in their obedience to virtue by custom and use, with very little help from the reason. For they always carry in their minds that saying of Homer, if we act any thing amiss, Priam will laugh at us, and all his brood; our enemies will please themselves and scoff at our defects; therefore we will do nothing that is ridiculous, sinful, base, or ignoble, lest we become a laughing-stock to such as do not love us. In the theatre we often see great artists in music and singing very supine and remiss, doing nothing as they should, whilst they play or sing alone; but whenever they challenge one another and contend for mastery, they do not only rouse up themselves, but they tune their instruments more carefully, they are more curious in the choice of their strings, and they try their notes in frequent and more harmonious consorts. Just so a man who hath an adversary perpetually to rival him in the well ordering of his life and reputation is thereby rendered more prudent in what he does, looks after his actions more circumspectly, and takes as much care of the accurateness of them as the musician does of his lute or organ. For evil hath this peculiar quality in it, that it dreads an enemy more than a friend. For this cause Nasica, when some thought the Roman affairs were established for ever in peace and safety, after they had razed Carthage and enslaved Greece, declared that even then they were in the greatest danger of all and most likely to be undone, because there were none left whom they might still fear and stand in some awe of. 

4  And here may be inserted that wise and facetious answer of Diogenes to one that asked him how he might be revenged of his enemy: The only way, says he, to gall and fret him effectually is for yourself to appear a good and honest man. The common people are generally envious and vexed in their minds, as oft as they see the cattle of those they have no kindness for, their dogs, or their horses, in a thriving condition; they sigh, fret, set their teeth, and show all the tokens of a malicious temper, when they behold their fields well tilled, or their gardens adorned and beset with flowers. If these things make them so restless and uneasy, what dost thou think they would do, what a torment would it be to them, if thou shouldst demonstrate thyself in the face of the world to be in all thy carriage a man of impartial justice, a sound understanding, unblamable integrity, of a ready and eloquent speech, sincere and upright in all your dealings, sober and temperate in all that you eat or drink; While from the culture of a prudent mind, Harvests of wise and noble thought you reap." Those that are conquered, saith Pindar, must seal up their lips; they dare not open their mouths, no, not even to mutter. But all men in these circumstances are not so restrained; but such chiefly as come behind their opposites in the practice of diligence, honesty, greatness of mind, humanity, and beneficence. These are beautiful and glorious virtues, as Demosthenes says, that are too pure and great to be touched by an ill tongue, that stop the mouths of backbiters, choke them and command them to be silent. Make it thy business therefore to surpass the base; for this surely thou canst do. If we would vex them that hate us, we must not reproach our adversary for an effeminate and debauched person, or one of a boorish and filthy conversation; but instead of throwing this dirt, we ourselves must be remarkable for a steady virtue and a well-governed behavior; we must speak the truth, and carry ourselves civilly and justly towards all who hold any correspondence or maintain any commerce with us. But if at any time a man is so transported by passion as to utter any bitter words, he must take heed that he himself be not chargeable for those crimes for which he upbraids others; he must descend into himself, examine and cleanse his own breast, that no putrefaction nor rottenness be lodged there; otherwise he will be condemned as the physician is by the tragedian: Wilt thou heal others, thou thyself being full of sores?" If a man should jeer you and say that you are a dunce and illiterate, upon this motive you ought to apply your mind to the taking of pains in the study of philosophy and all kinds of learning. If he abuses you for a coward, then raise up your mind to a courageous manliness and an undaunted boldness of spirit. If he tells you you are lascivious and wanton, this scandal may be wiped off by having your mind barred up against all impressions of lust, and your discourse free from the least obscenity. These are allowable returns, and the most cutting strokes you can give your enemy; there being nothing that carries in it more vexation and disgrace, than that scandalous censures should fall back upon the head of him who was the first author of them. For as the beams of the sun reverberated do most severely affect and punish weak eyes, so those calumnies are most vexatious and intolerable which truth retorts back upon their first broachers. For as the north-east wind gathers clouds, so does a vicious life gather unto itself opprobrious speeches. 

5  Insomuch that Plato, when he was in company with any persons that were guilty of unhandsome actions, was wont thus to reflect upon himself and ask this question, Am I of the like temper and disposition with these men? In like manner, whosoever passes a hard censure upon another man's life should presently make use of self-examination, and enquire what his own is; by which means he will come to know what his failings are, and how to amend them. Thus the very censures and backbitings of his enemy will redound to his advantage, although in itself this censorious humor is a very vain, empty, and useless thing. For every one will laugh at and deride that man who is humpbacked and baldpated, while at the same time he makes sport with the natural deformities of his brethren; it being a very ridiculous unaccountable thing to scoff at another for those very imperfections for which you yourself may be abused. As Leo Byzantinus replied upon the humpbacked man, who in drollery reflected on the weakness of his eyes, You mock me for a human infirmity, but you bear the marks of divine vengeance on your own back. Wherefore no man should arraign another of adultery, when he himself is addicted to a more bestial vice. Neither may one man justly accuse another of extravagance or looseness, when he himself is stingy and covetous. Alcmaeon told Adrastus, that he was near akin to a woman that killed her husband; to which Adrastus gave a very pat and sharp answer, — Thou with thy own hands didst murder thy mother. After the same sarcastical way of jesting did Domitius ask Crassus whether he did not weep for the death of the lamprey that was bred in his fish-pond; to which Crassus makes this present reply, — But have I not heard that you did not weep when you carried out three wives to their burial. Whence we may infer that it behooves every man who takes upon him to correct or censure another not to be too clamorous or merry upon his faults, but to be guilty of no such crime as may expose him to the chastisement and reproach of others. For the great God seems to have given that commandment of Know thyself to those men more especially who are apt to make remarks upon other men's actions and forget themselves. So, as Sophocles hath well observed, They often hear that which they would not, because they allow themselves the liberty of talking what they please. 

6  This is the use that may be lawfully made of censuring and judging our enemies; that we may be sure we are not culpable for the same misdemeanors which we condemn in them. On the contrary, we may reap no less advantage from our being judged and censured by our enemies. In this case Antisthenes spake incomparably well, that if a man would lead a secure and blameless life, it was necessary that he should have either very ingenuous and honest friends, or very furious enemies, because the first would keep him from sinning by their kind admonitions, the latter by their evil words and vehement invectives. But for as much as in these times friendship is grown almost speechless, and hath left off that freedom it did once use, since it is loquacious in flattery and dumb in admonition, therefore we must expect to hear truth only from the mouths of enemies. As Telephus, when he could find no physician that he could confide in as his friend, thought his adversary's lance would most probably heal his wound; so he that hath no friend to give him advice and to reprove him in what he acts amiss must bear patiently the rebukes of an enemy, and thereby learn to amend the errors of his ways; considering seriously the object which these severe censures aim at, and not what the person is who makes them. For as he who designed the death of Prometheus the Thessalian, instead of giving the fatal blow, only lanced a swelling that he had, which did really preserve his life and free him from the hazard of approaching death; just so may the harsh reprehensions of enemies cure some distempers of the mind that were before either unknown or neglected, though these angry speeches do originally proceed from malice and ill-will. But many, when they are accused of a crime, do not consider whether they are guilty of the matter alleged against them, but are rather solicitous whether the accuser hath nothing that may be laid to his charge; like the combatants in a match at wrestling, they take no care to wipe off the dirt that sticks upon them, but they go on to besmear one another, and in their mutual strugglings they wallow and tumble into more dirt and filthiness. It is a matter of greater importance and concern to a man when he is lashed by the slanders of an enemy, by living virtuously to prevent and avert all objections that may be made his life, than it is to scour the spots out of his clothes when they are shown him. And even if any man with opprobrious language object to you crimes you know nothing of, you ought to enquire into the causes and reasons of such false accusations, that you may learn to take heed for the future and be very wary, lest unwittingly you should commit those offences that are unjustly attributed to you, or something that comes near them. Lacydes, king of the Argives, was abused as an effeminate person, because he wore his hair long, used to dress himself neatly, and his mien was finical. So Pompey, though he was very far from any effeminate softness, yet was reflected upon and jeered for being used to scratch his head with one of his fingers. Crassus also suffered much in the like kind, because sometimes he visited a vestal virgin and showed great attention to her, having a design to purchase of her a little farm that lay conveniently for him. So Postumia was suspected of unchaste actions, and was even brought to trial, because she would often be very cheerful and discourse freely in men's company. But she was found clear of all manner of guilt in that nature. Nevertheless at her dismission, Spurius Minucius the Pontifex Maximus gave her this good admonition, that her words should be always as pure, chaste, and modest as her life was. Themistocles, though he had offended in nothing, yet was suspected of treachery with Pausanias, because he corresponded familiarly with him, and used every day to send him letters and messengers. 

7  Whenever then any thing is spoken against you that is not true, do not pass it by or despise it because it is false, but forthwith examine yourself, and consider what you have said or done, what you have ever undertaken, or what converse you have ever had that may have given likelihood to the slander; and when this is discovered, decline for the future all things that may provoke any reproachful or foul language from others. For if troubles and difficulties, into which some men fall either by chance or through their own inadvertency and rashness, may teach others what is fit and safe for them to do, — as Merope says, Fortune hath taken for her salary My dearest goods, but wisdom she hath given;" why should not we take an enemy for our tutor, who will instruct us gratis in those things we knew not before? For an enemy sees and understands more in matters relating to us than our friends do; because love is blind, as Plato says, in discerning the imperfections of the thing beloved. But spite, malice, ill-will, wrath, and contempt talk much, are very inquisitive and quick-sighted. When Hiero was upbraided by his enemy for having a stinking breath, he returned home and demanded of his wife why she had not acquainted him with it. The innocent good woman makes this answer: I thought all men's breath had that smell. For those things in men that are conspicuous to all are sooner understood from the information of enemies than from that of friends and acquaintance. 

8  Furthermore, an exact government of the tongue is a strong evidence of a good mind, and no inconsiderable part of virtue. But since every man naturally is desirous to propagate his conceits, and without a painful force cannot smother his resentments, it is no easy task to keep this unruly member in due subjection, unless such an impetuous affection as anger be thoroughly subdued by much exercise, care, and study. For such things as "saying let fall against our will," or "a word flying by the range of our teeth," or "a speech escaping us by accident," are all likely to happen to those whose ill-exercised minds (as it were) fall and waste away, and whose course of life is licentious; and we may attribute this to hasty passion or to unsettled judgment. For divine Plato tells us that for a word, which is the lightest of all things, both Gods and men inflict the heaviest penalties. But silence, which can never be called to account, doth not only, as Hippocrates hath observed, extinguish thirst, but it bears up against all manner of slanders with the constancy of Socrates and the courage of Hercules, who was no more concerned than a fly at what others said or did. Now it is certainly not grander or better than this for a man to bear silently and quietly the revilings of an enemy, taking care not to provoke him, as if he were swimming by a dangerous rock; but the practice is better. For whosoever is thus accustomed to endure patiently the scoffs of an enemy will, without any disturbance or trouble, bear with the chidings of a wife, the rebukes of a friend, or the sharper reproofs of a brother. When a father or mother corrects you, you will not be refractory or stubborn under the rod. Xanthippe, though she was a woman of a very angry and troublesome spirit, could never move Socrates to a passion. By being used to bear patiently this heavy sufferance at home, he was ever unconcerned, and not in the least moved by the most scurrilous and abusive tongues he met withal abroad. For it is much better to overcome boisterous passions and to bring the mind into a calm and even frame of spirit, by contentedly undergoing the scoffs, outrages, and affronts of enemies, than to be stirred up to choler or revenge by the worst they can say or do. 

9  Thus we may show a meek and gentle temper and a submissive bearing of evil in our enmities; and even integrity, magnanimity, and goodness of disposition are also more conspicuous here than in friendship. For it is not so honorable and virtuous to do a friend a kindness, as it is unworthy and base to omit this good office when he stands in need; but it is an eminent piece of humanity, and a manifest token of a nature truly generous, to put up with the affronts of an enemy when you have a fair opportunity to revenge them. For if any one sympathizes with his enemy in his affliction, relieves him in his necessities, and is ready to assist his sons and family if they desire it, any one that will not love this man for his compassion, and highly commend him for his charity, "must have a black heart made of adamant or iron," as Pindar says. When Caesar made an edict that the statues of Pompey which were tumbled down should be rebuilt and restored to their former beauty and magnificence, Tully tells him that by setting up again Pompey's statues he has erected one for himself, an everlasting monument of praise and honor to after ages. So that we must give to every one his due, to an enemy such respect and honor as he truly deserves. Thus a man that praises his enemy for his real deserts shall himself obtain the more honor by it; and whenever he shall correct or censure him, he will be credited in what he does, because every one will believe that he does it out of a dislike and just abhorrence of his vice and not of his person. By this practice we shall be brought at length to perform the most honorable and worthy actions; for he who is wont to praise and speak the best things of his enemies will never repine at the prosperity or success of his friends and acquaintance; he is never troubled, but rather rejoices, when they thrive and are happy. And what virtue can any man exercise that will be more profitable and delightful to him than this, which takes away from him the bitterness of malice, and doth not only break the teeth of envy, but, by teaching him to rejoice at another man's felicity, doth double his own enjoyment and satisfaction. As in war many things, although they are bad and evil in themselves, yet have become necessary, and by long custom and prescription have obtained the validity of a law, so that it is not easy to root them out, even by those who thereby suffer much harm; just so doth enmity usher in the mind a long train of vices, meagre envy coupled with grim hatred, restless jealousy and suspicion, unnatural joy at other men's miseries, and a long remembrance of injuries. Fraud, deceit, and snares, joined to these forces of wickedness, work infinite mischief in the world, yet they appear as no evils at all when they are exerted against an enemy. By this means they make a deep entrance into the mind; they get fast hold of it, and are hardly shaken off. So that, unless we forbear the practice of these ill qualities towards our enemies, they will by frequent acts become so habitual to us, that we shall be apt to make use of them to the manifest wrong and injury of our friends. Wherefore, if Pythagoras was highly esteemed for instructing his disciples to avoid all manner of cruelty against beasts themselves, — so that he himself would redeem them out of their captivity in either the fowler's or the fisherman's net, and forbade his followers to kill any creature, — it is surely much better and more manly in our differences with men to show ourselves generous, just, and detesters of all falsehood, and to moderate and correct all base, unworthy, and hurtful passions; that in all our conversation with our friends we may be open-hearted, and that we may not seek to overreach or deceive others in any of our dealings. For Scaurus was a professed enemy and an open accuser of Domitius; whereupon a treacherous servant of Domitius comes to Scaurus before the cause was to be heard, and tells him that he has a secret to communicate to him in relation to the present suit, which he knows not of, and which may be very advantageous on his side. Yet Scaurus would not permit him to speak a word, but apprehended him, and sent him back to his master. And when Cato was prosecuting Murena for bribery, and was collecting evidence to support his charge, he was accompanied (according to custom) by certain persons in the interest of the defendant, who watched his transactions. These often asked him in the morning, whether he intended on that day to collect evidence or make other preparation for the trial; and so soon as he told them he should not, they put such trust in him that they went their way. This was a plain demonstration of the extraordinary deference and honor they paid to Cato; but a far greater testimony, and one surpassing all the rest, is it to prove that, if we accustom ourselves to deal justly and uprightly with our enemies, then we shall not fail to behave ourselves so towards our friends. 

10  Simonides was wont to say that there was no lark without its crest; so the disposition of men is naturally pregnant with strife, suspicion, and envy, which last (as Pindar observes) is "the companion of empty-brained men." Therefore no man can do any thing that will tend more to his own profit and the preservation of his peace than utterly to purge out of his mind these corrupt affections, and cast them off as the very sink of all iniquity, that they may create no more mischief between him and his friends. This Onomademus, a judicious and wise man, understood well, who, when he was of the prevailing side in a civil commotion at Chios, gave this counsel to his friends, that they should not quite destroy or drive away those of the adverse party, but let some abide there, for fear they should begin to fall out among themselves as soon as their enemies were all out of the way. Therefore, if these uneasy dispositions of the mind be spent and consumed upon enemies, they would never molest or disquiet our friends. Neither doth Hesiod approve of one potter or one singer's envying another, or that a neighbor or relation or brother should resent it ill that another prospers and is successful in the world. But if there be no other way whereby we may be delivered from emulation, envy, or contention, we may suffer our minds to vent these passions upon the prosperity of our enemies, and whet the edge and sharpen the point of our anger upon them. For as gardeners that have knowledge and experience in plants expect their roses and violets should grow the better by being set near leeks and onions, — because all the sour juices of the earth are conveyed into these, — so an enemy by attracting to himself our vicious and peevish qualities, may render us less humorsome and more candid and ingenuous to our friends that are in a better or more happy state than ourselves. Wherefore let us enter the lists with our enemies, and contend with them for true glory, lawful empire, and just gain. Let us not so much debase ourselves as to be troubled and fret at any possessions they enjoy more than we have. Let us rather carefully observe those good qualities wherein our enemies excel us, so that by these motives we may be excited to outdo them in honest diligence, indefatigable industry, prudent caution, and exemplary sobriety; as Themistocles complained that the victory Miltiades got at Marathon would not let him sleep. But whosoever views his adversary exalted far above him in dignities, in pleading of great causes, in administration of state affairs, or in favor and friendship with princes, and doth not put forth all his strength and power to get before him in these things, — this man commonly pines away, and by degrees sinks into the sloth and misery of an envious and inactive life. And we may observe, that envy and hatred do raise such clouds in the understanding, that a man shall not be able to pass a right judgment concerning things which he hates; but whosoever with an impartial eye beholds, and with a sincere mind judges, the life and manners, discourses, and actions of his enemy, will soon understand that many of those things that raise his envy were gotten by honest care, a discreet providence, and virtuous deeds. Thus the love of honorable and brave actions may be kindled and advanced in him, and an idle and lazy course of life may be contemned and forsaken. 

11  But if our enemies arrive at high places in the courts of princes by flattery or frauds, by bribery or gifts, we should not be troubled at it, but should rather be pleased in comparing our undisguised and honest way of living with theirs which is quite contrary. For Plato, who was a competent judge, was of opinion that virtue was a more valuable treasure than all the riches above the earth or all the mines beneath it. And we ought evermore to have in readiness this saying of Solon: But we will not give up our virtue in exchange for their wealth. So will we never give up our virtue for the applause of crowded theatres, which may be won by a feast, nor for the loftiest seats among eunuchs, concubines, and royal satraps. For nothing that is worth any one's appetite, nothing that is handsome or becoming a man, can proceed from that which is in itself evil and base. But, as Plato repeats once and again, the lover cannot see the faults of the thing or person that he loves, and we apprehend soonest what our enemies do amiss; therefore we must let neither our joy at their miscarriages nor our sorrow at their successes be idle and useless to ourselves, but we are bound to consider in both respects, how we may render ourselves better than they are, by avoiding what is faulty and vicious in them, and how we may not prove worse than they, if we imitate them in what they do excel.

1  Menon the Thessalian, a person who had no mean opinion of his own parts, who thought himself well accomplished in all the arts of discourse and to have reached (as Empedocles words it) the highest pitch of wisdom, was asked by Socrates, What is virtue? And he answered readily enough, and as impertinently, that there is one virtue belonging to childhood, another to old age; that there are distinct virtues in men and women, magistrates and private persons, masters and servants. Excellently well! replied Socrates in raillery, when you were asked about one virtue, you have raised, as it were, a whole swarm; conjecturing, not without reason, that the man therefore named many because he knew the nature of none. And may not we ourselves expect and deserve as justly to be scoffed and rallied, who having not yet contracted one firm friendship seem nevertheless exceeding cautious of too many? It is almost the same thing as if one maimed and blind should appear solicitous lest like Briareus he may chance to be furnished with a hundred hands, and become all over eyes like Argus. However, we cannot but extol the sense of that young man in Menander the poet, who said that he counted every man wonderfully honest and happy who had found even the shadow of a friend. 

2  But all the difficulty lies in finding him; and the chiefest reason is that, instead of one choice true friend, nothing under a multitude will content us; like women of the town who admit the embraces of all gallants that come, at the gay appearance of the last which comes we neglect and slight the former, and so are unable to hold them. Or rather, like the foster-child of Hypsipyle, who "in a green meadow sat cropping the flowers one after another, snatching each prize with delighted heart, insatiable in his childish joy," — so we of riper years, from an inbred affection of novelty and disdain of things already possessed, take up presently with the first promising aspect of every fresh and new-blooming friend, and lay all at once the foundations of several acquaintances; but we leave each unfinished, and when we have scarce fixed on one, our love immediately palls there, while we passionately pursue some other. Wherefore, in this affair, — to begin at the beginning (at the domestic altar, as the saying is), — let us ask the opinion and counsel of our forefathers, and consider what report the records of antiquity make concerning true friends. They are, we find, always reckoned in pairs; as Theseus and Pirithous, Achilles and Patroclus, Orestesand Pylades, Phintias and Damon, Epaminondas and Pelopidas. Friendship (so to speak) is a creature sociable, but affects not a herd or a flock; and that we usually esteem a friend another self, and call him ἑταῖϱος (companion) as much as to say ἕτεϱος (the other one), is a convincing argument that the number two is the adequate and complete measure of friendship. And in truth, a great number of friends or servants is not to be purchased at an easy rate. That which procures love and friendship in the world is a sweet and obliging temper of mind, a lively readiness in doing good offices, together with a constant habit of virtue; than which qualifications nothing is more rarely found in nature. Therefore to love and to be beloved much can have no place in a multitude; but the most eager affection, if divided among numerous objects, like a river divided into several channels, must needs flow at length very weak and languid. Upon this score, those animals love their young most which generate but one; and Homer, describing a beloved child, calls it the only-begotten and born in old age, — that is, at such a time when the parents neither have nor hope for another." 

3  Yet I do not assert we ought to confine ourselves to one only friend; but among the rest, there should be one eminently so, like a well-beloved and only son, not casually picked up at a tavern or eating-house or in a tennis-court, nor at a game of hazard, nor at an accidental meeting in the wrestling-place or the market, — as is too common nowadays, — but one chosen upon long and mature deliberation, with whom (according to that celebrated proverb) we have eaten a bushel of salt. The palaces of noble men and princes appear guarded with splendid retinues of diligent obsequious servants, and every room is crowded with a throng of visitors, who caress the great man with all the endearing gestures and expressions that wit and breeding can invent; and it may be thought, I confess, at first sight, that such are very fortunate in having so many cordial, real friends at their command; whereas it is all bare pageantry and show. Change the scene, and you may observe a far greater number of flies as industriously busy in their kitchens; and as these would vanish, were the dishes empty and clean, so neither would that other sort of insect pay any farther respect, were nothing to be got by it. There are chiefly these requisites to a true friendship: virtue, as a thing lovely and desirable; familiarity, as pleasant; and advantage, as necessary. For we must first choose a friend upon a right judgment made of his excellent qualities; having chosen him, we must perceive a pleasure in his conversation, and upon occasion he must be useful to us in our concerns. All which (especially judgment in our choice, the main point of all) are inconsistent with a numerous acquaintance. And first of all (to draw a parallel in other matters), if there is no small time required to select a great many persons together who can dance and sing in exact time to the same tune, manage oars with a like strength and vigor, be fit stewards of our estates or tutors of our children, certainly we must acknowledge it much more difficult to meet with a considerable number of friends, ready to enter with us the trial of all manner of fortune, of whom every one will Of his good fortune yield thy part to thee, And bear like part of thy calamity. Even a ship at sea runs not the risk of so many storms, nor are any castles, forts, and havens secured with walls, ramparts, and dams against the apprehension of so many dangers, as are the misfortunes against which a constant approved friendship mutually undertakes to afford a defence and refuge. Whoever without due trial put themselves upon us for friends we examine as bad money; and the cheat being discovered, we are glad if of their own accord they withdraw; or if they persist, at least we wish with great impatience fairly to get rid of them. Yet we must own it is a hard and troublesome task to cast off a disagreeable acquaintance; for as unwholesome meats which nauseate the stomach can neither be retained without hazard of health, nor yet ejected sincere as they were taken, but wholly disguised and defiled with other humors; so a mistaken false friend must either be still entertained, and remain a mere vexation to us as well as uneasy to himself, or else by a kind of convulsion be thrown up like bile, leaving behind the continual torment of private grudgings and hatred. 

4  Therefore it highly concerns us not to be too rash in fastening on the next that may accidentally offer, nor presently to affect every one that pretends to be fond of our friendship. Let the search rather begin on our own part, and our choice fix on those who approve themselves really worthy of our respect. What is cheap and with ease obtained is below our notice; and we trample under foot bushes and brambles that readily catch hold of us, while we diligently clear our way to the vine and olive; so it is always best not to admit to our familiarity persons who officiously stick and twist themselves about us, but we ought rather of our own accord to court the friendship of those who are worthy of our regard, and who prove advantageous to ourselves. 

5  Therefore, as Zeuxis replied to some who blamed the slowness of his pencil, — that he therefore spent a long time in painting, because he designed his work should last for a long eternity, — so he that would secure a lasting friendship and acquaintance must first deliberately judge and thoroughly try its worth, before he settles it. Suppose then it is hard to make a right judgment in choosing many friends together, it may still be asked whether we may not maintain a familiarity with many persons, or whether that too is impossible. Now familiarity and converse are the genuine products and enjoyments of true friendship, and the highest pleasure the best friends aim at is continual intercourse and the daily frequenting one another's company. No more shall meet Achilles and his friend; No more our thoughts to those we loved make known, Or quit the dearest, to converse alone." And, as Menelaus says of Ulysses: There with commutual zeal we both had strove In acts of dear benevolence and love: Brothers in peace, not rivals in command: And death alone dissolved the friendly band." Now much acquaintance has a clear contrary effect; and whereas single friendship by kind discourses and good offices cements, unites, and condenses as it were two parties: As when the fig-tree's juice curdles and binds white milk, as Empedocles says; this on the other hand unties, rends, and breaks the bond, distracts our inclinations with too much variety; and the agreeable just mixture of affection, the very cement of true friends, is wholly lost in so loose and confused a conversation. Hence at once arises great inequality with respect to the services of friendship, and a foolish diffidence in the performance of them. For multiplicity of friends renders those very parts of friendship vain and useless whence advantage was most expected; neither can we hope it should be otherwise, if we consider how "one man is acted upon by his nature and another by his cares and anxieties." Nature hath not bestowed the same inclinations on all, nor are we all born to the same fortune; and the occasions of our actions, like the wind, may often favor one of our acquaintance while they stand cross to another. 

6  However, suppose by great chance all should agree to crave assistance in the same affair, whether at a consult, exercise of a public trust in the government, canvassing for preferment, entertaining guests, or the like; yet it is exceeding hard to satisfy all. But now if they are engaged in diverse concerns at the very same moment of time, and every one should make his particular request to you, one to take a voyage with him, another to assist in pleading his cause, a third to prosecute a criminal, a fourth to help in managing his trade, another to celebrate his wedding, and another to attend a funeral: And the whole city's filled with incense smoke, And songs of triumph mixt with groans resound;" I say, in this case, it is utterly impossible to answer the requests of all, to gratify none is absurd, and to serve only one and disoblige the rest is a thing grievous and intolerably rude; — "for no one, when he loves a friend, will bear to be neglected." If indeed you could persuade that inadvertency was the cause of the omission, you might more easily hope a pardon; and to plead forgetfulness is a sort of excuse which perhaps might pass without much angering your friend; but to allege "I could not be advocate in your cause, being of counsel for another," or "I could not visit you in a fever, because I was invited to a feast elsewhere," while it is thus confessed that we neglect one friend to pay our respects to another, is so far from extenuating the offence, that it highly aggravates it, and adds all the jealousies of rivalry. But commonly men overlook these and such like inconveniences of a numerous acquaintance, and take only a prospect of its advantages, not in the least reflecting that whoever employs many assistants in his affairs must in gratitude repay his service to as many when they need it; and as Briareus, who with his hundred hands was daily obliged for his bare subsistence to feed fifty stomachs, could thrive no better than ourselves, who supply a single one with two hands, so a man of many friends cannot boast any other privilege but that of being a slave to many, and of sharing in all the business, cares, and disquiet that may befall them. Nor can Euripides help him by advising that Best suited to the state Of mortal life are mutual friendships formed With moderation, such as take not root Deep in the soul, affections that with ease May be relaxed, or closer bound at will," that is, we may pull in and let out our friendships like a sail, as the wind happens to blow. Let us rather, good Euripides, turn this saying of yours to enmity; for heats and animosities ought to be moderate, and never reach the inmost recesses of the soul; hatred, anger, complaints, and jealousies may with good reason be readily appeased and forgotten. Therefore it is far more advisable, as Pythagoras directs, "not to shake hands with too many," — that is, not to make many friends, — nor to affect that popular kind of easiness which courts and embraces every acquaintance that occurs, but carries with it on the reverse a thousand mischiefs; among which (as was before hinted) to bear part of the same cares, to be affected with the same sorrows, and to be embroiled in the same enterprises and dangers with any great number of friends will be a sort of life hardly tolerable even to the most ingenuous and generous tempers. What Chilon the wise man remarked to one who said he had no enemies, namely, "Thou seemest rather to have no friends," has a great deal of truth; for enmities always keep pace and are interwoven with friendships. 

7  And it is impossible any should be friends that resent not mutually the affronts and injuries offered unto either, and that do not hate alike and in common. They also who are enemies to yourself will presently suspect and hate your friend; nay, your other friends too will often envy, calumniate, and undermine him. Wherefore what the oracle foretold Timesias concerning his planting a colony, that an hive of bees should be changed into a nest of wasps, may not impertinently be applied to those who seek after a hive of friends, but light before they know it upon a wasps-nest of enemies. Besides, we should do well to consider that the kindest affections of friends seldom compensate for the misfortunes that befall us from the malice of enemies. It is well known how Alexander treated the familiars of Philotas and Parmenio; Dionysius, those of Dion; Nero, those of Plautus; and Tiberius, those of Sejanus; all shared the same hard fate of being racked and tortured to death. For as the gold and riches Creon's daughter was adorned with could not secure the good old father from being consumed in her flames, endeavoring too officiously to rescue her; so not a few partake of the calamities and ruin of their friends, before they have reaped the least advantage from their prosperity; a misfortune to which philosophers and the bestnatured men are the most liable. This was the case of Theseus, who for the sake of his dear Pirithous shared his punishment, and was bound with him in the same eternal chains. Thus in the plague of Athens, says Thucydides, the most generous and virtuous citizens, while without regard to their own safety they visited their sick, frequently perished with their friends. 

8  Such accidents as these ought to admonish us not to be too prodigal of our virtue, nor inconsiderately to prostitute our perfections to the enjoyment of every little thing that pretends to be our humble admirer; rather let us reserve them for the worthy, for those who can love and share another's joys and sorrows like ourselves. And truly, this alone renders it most unlikely that many men should remain friends, that real friendship has always its origin from likeness. For, we may observe, even brute and inanimate beings affect their like, very readily mixing and uniting with those of their own nature; while with great reluctance and a kind of indignation they shrink from and avoid whatever differs from themselves, and force can scarce oblige them to the loathed embraces. By what motive then can we imagine any league of amity can be kept inviolable amidst a multitude, where manners admit of so much variety, where desires and humors will be perpetually jarring, where the several courses of life must needs be almost as unlike as constitutions and faces? A musical concord consists of contrary sounds, and a due composition of flat and sharp notes makes a delightful tune; but as for friendship, that is a sort of harmony all of a piece, and admits not the least inequality, unlikeness, or discords of parts, but here all discourses, opinions, inclinations, and designs serve one common interest, as if several bodies were acted and informed by the same soul. 

9  Now is there any person living of that industrious, pliant, and universal humor, who can take the pains exactly to imitate all shapes, and will not rather deride the advice of Theognis as absurd and impossible, namely, to learn the craft of the polypus, which puts on the hue of every stone it sticks to? However, the changes of this fish are only superficial, and the colors are produced in the skin, which by its closeness or its laxity receives various impressions from neighboring objects; whereas the resemblance betwixt friends must be far more than skin-deep, must be substantial, such as may be traced in every action of their lives, in all their affections, dispositions, words and purposes, even to their most retired thoughts. To follow the advice of Theognis would be a task worthy of a Proteus, who was neither very fortunate nor very honest, but could by enchantment transform himself in an instant from one shape to another. Even so, he that entertains many friends must be learned and bookish among the learned, go into the arena with wrestlers, drudge cheerfully after a pack of hounds with gentlemen that love hunting, drink with debauchees, and sue for office with politicians; in fine, he must have no proper principles of actions and humors of his own, but those of the present company he converses with. Thus, as the first matter of the philosophers is originally without shape or color, yet being the subject of all natural changes takes by its own inherent forces the forms of fire, water, air, and solid earth; so a person that affects a numerous friendship must possess a mind full of folds and windings, subject to many passions, inconstant as water, and easy to be transformed into an infinite variety of shapes. But real friendship requires a sedate, stable, and unalterable temper; so that it is a rare thing and next a miracle to find a constant and sure friend.

1  And does not justice rule the affairs of mortals, — nor impartiality, nor moderation, nor decorum? But was it of Fortune and long of Fortune that Aristides remained obstinate in his poverty, although he could have made himself master of much wealth? And that Scipio, when he had taken Carthage, neither received nor so much as saw any part of the booty? Was it of Fortune and long of Fortune that Philocrates, having received a sum of gold of King Philip, laid it out in whores and fish? And that Lasthenes and Euthycrates, by measuring their happiness by their bellies and the most abject of follies, lost Olynthus? Was it of Fortune that Alexander son of Philiprefrained from the captive women himself, and punished those that offered them any indignity; while Alexander, son of Priam, long of an evil Daemon and Fortune, first vitiated his host's wife and then took her away with him, and filled both the continents with war and calamities? And if such things as these can come by Fortune, what hinders but that we may as well plead that cats, goats, and monkeys are constrained by Fortune to be ravenous, lustful, and ridiculous? 

2  But if there be such things to be found as moderation, justice, and fortitude, how can it stand with reason there should not be such a thing as wisdom also? And if there be wisdom, how can it be but there must be good counsel? For moderation is (as they are used to say) a certain sort of wisdom; and justice cannot subsist without wisdom. Certainly we call that good counsel and wisdom that render us manful in pleasures continence and moderation; in dangers and hardships, endurance and resolution; and in communities and public business, equality and justice. And therefore if we will needs have it that the effects of conduct belong to Fortune, let then both the effects of justice and moderation belong to Fortune also. Nay, by Zeus, let stealing be ascribed to Fortune too, and cutting of purses, and a lustful lewd life; and let us quit our reasoning quite, and turn ourselves loose to Fortune, to be carried and driven, like filth and dust, be fore an impetuous wind. If there be no such thing as conduct, it must of necessity follow, that there should be no such thing as advising about our affairs, nor any consultation or enquiry about utility; and that Sophocles did talk idly when he said: Whate'er is sought, It may be caught; But what we shun Will from us run;" and when elsewhere he made this distribution of things. I learn what's to be taught, I seek what's to be sought; I beg the rest of Heaven. For what is to be sought or what is to be learned by mortals, if all things go by Fortune? And what senate of a republic is not overthrown, or what council of a prince is not dissolved, if all things are subject to Fortune? — which we use to upbraid with blindness because we blindly fall into it. And indeed how can we otherwise choose, when we first pluck good counsel like our eyes out of our heads, and then take us a blind guide of our lives? 

3  Imagine that now some one of us should say, Seers' affairs Fortune not eyesight rules, nor yet the eyes, which Plato calls light-bearers; and again, Hearers' affairs are by blind Fortune ruled, and not by a certain power receptive of the strokes of the air, conveyed to it through the organ of the ear and brain. It would beseem us then, doubtless, to pay a due respect to our sense. But our sight, hearing, and smelling, with the other parts of our bodies' faculties, were bestowed upon us by nature to minister unto good conduct and discretion. And "It is the mind that sees, and the mind that hears; the rest are deaf and blind." And as, were there not a sun, we might, for all the other stars, pass our days in darkness (as Heraclitus says); so had man neither mind nor reason, his life would be, for all his senses, nothing better than that of brutes. But it is by neither Fortune nor chance that we exceed them and bear sway over them; but Prometheus (that is, reason) is the cause, Which gives both horse and ass and oxen strong, To carry us and ease our labor long," as Aeschylus speaks. For the greater part of brutes are much happier than we, as to the fortune and form of their constitution; for some of them are armed with horns, some with teeth, and some with stings; and the urchin's back, (saith Empedocles) bristles with prickly thorns; others again are shod, others are clad with scales, others with shaggy hair, and others with hard claws and hoofs; but man alone (as Plato speaks) was left by Nature naked, unarmed, unshod, and uncovered. But all those ills she sweetened with one gift, — reason, care, and forecast. Small is the strength of poor frail man; Yet by his shifting wit he can Enslave the arts and properties Of all on land, in sea and skies. The lightest and swiftest things are horses; but they run for man. A dogis a fierce and an angry animal; but it guards man. Fish is the sweetest thing, and swine the fattest; but they are man's nourishment and cheer. What is bigger than an elephant? But this also is become man's plaything, and a spectacle at public solemnities, and it learns to skip, dance, and kneel. Such things as these are not introduced in vain, but that we may learn by them whither knowledge advances man, and above what things it sets him, and how he comes to be master, and exceed all other things. For we nor boxers nor good wrestlers are, Nor yet good runners." Yea, in all these we are far more unhappy than the brutes. But by our experience, memory, wit, and dexterity (as Anaxagoras speaks) we make use of what is theirs; we press out their honey, we milk them, we catch them, and drive them up and down as we please. So that in all this there is nothing that depends on Fortune, but all on counsel and forecast. 

4  Moreover, the affairs of carpenters are affairs of mortals, and so are those of copper-founders, builders, and statuaries; amongst whom yet we can see nothing brought to perfection by chance or at random. For that there falls in but little of Fortune to an expert artist, whether founder or builder, but that the most and greatest part of their workmanship is performed by mere art, hath been thus insinuated by a certain poet: Go forth into the street, ye craftsmen all, Who on grim-visaged Ergana do call, That's stuck with sacred baskets all around. For the trades have Ergana and Athena for their patroness, and not Fortune. It is indeed reported of one that, as he was drawing a horse and had hit right in all the rest, both shapes and colors, but was not well satisfied with the draught he had made of a puff of froth that was tempered by the bit and wrought out with the horse's breathing, he therefore had often wiped it off; but that at length he in a great fume struck his sponge full of colors, as it was, against the board, and that this, as it lighted, to admiration made a most lively impress, and so filled up what was defective in the piece. This is the only artificial work of Fortune that history mentions. Artists everywhere make use of rules, lines, measures, and arithmetical proportions, that their works may nowhere have in them any thing that is casual or fortuitous. And the truth is, arts are styled a sort of petty wisdoms, though they might be much better called certain sheddings or filings of it sprinkled upon the several needful services of human life; as is obscurely riddled to us in the fire feigned to have been first divided by Prometheus, and then scattered up and down the world. For just so, certain little particles and fragments of wisdom as it were crumbled and broken small fell into ranks and methods. 

5  It seems therefore very strange how it came to pass that arts should stand in no need of Fortune to compass their proper end, but that which is the greatest and most complete of all arts, and which is the very sum of man's worth and commendation, should prove to be nothing at all. But there is a kind of good counsel in stretching and slackening of strings, which they call the art of music; and in dressing of meats, which we call cookery; and in washing of clothes, which we call the art of fulling; and we teach our children how to put on their shoes and clothes, and to take their meat in their right hand, and hold their bread in their left; as being sensible that even such common things as these do not come by Fortune, but require attention and heed. But do the greatest things and the most important to a happy state require no wisdom, and have no share in rational proceeding and forecast? Yet no man ever wetted clay and then left it, as if there would be bricks by chance and Fortune; nor, having provided wool and leather, sat him down and prayed to Fortune that they might be made clothes and shoes for him; nor can any man, when he hath amassed together much gold and silver, and furnished himself with a multitude of slaves and attendants, and enclosed himself in a great palace with many gates, and set out costly couches and tables, fancy to himself that, if he have not wisdom with them, these things will be his happiness, and an undisturbed, blissful, and unchangeable life. One asked Iphicrates the general, by way of taunt, what he was? For he was neither spearman nor archer, nor yet bore light armor. I am (replied he) one that commands and uses all these. 

6  In like manner wisdom is itself neither gold nor silver nor fame nor wealth nor health nor strength nor beauty. What then is it? It is what can use all these with decorum, and by means of which every one of these is made pleasant, commendable, and useful, and without which they become useless, unprofitable, and prejudicial, and the burthen and shame of their possessors. Hesiod's Prometheus therefore gives very good advice to Epimetheus: Brother, be sure you never take A boon from Zeus, but giv't him back," meaning things of Fortune and external. For, as if he had bid him not to play on a flute if ignorant of music, nor to read a book if he knew not his letters, nor to ride if he understood not a horse, so it would be if he advised him not to govern if a fool, nor to be a rich man if a miser, and not to marry if apt to be ruled by a woman. For success above desert is to fools an occasion of misthinking, as Demosthenes saith; yes, and good fortune above desert is to the unwise an occasion of misdoing.

1  It is apparent that clothes make a man warm, not by warming him themselves or by imparting heat to him (for every garment is of itself cold, which is the reason that we see those that are very hot and in a fever often shifting and changing one thing for another), but what heat a man exhales out of himself, that the garment lying close to his body keeps together and contracts, and when it hath driven it inward, it will not suffer it again to dissipate. This being the very case of external affairs too, it is this that cheats vulgar heads, by making them think that, if they might but enclose themselves in great houses and heap together abundance of slaves and riches, they might then live to their own minds. But an agreeable and gay life is not to be found without us; on the contrary, it is man that out of his own temper, as out of a spring, adds pleasure and gayety to the things about him: The house looks merrier when the fire burns. And wealth is the more agreeable, and fame and power the more resplendent, when they have the joy of the mind to accompany them; since we see how that through a mild and tame disposition men can bear poverty, banishment, and old age easily and sweetly. 

2  For as odors perfume threadbare coats and poor rags, while Prince Anchises's ulcer sent forth a loathsome purulence, When the foul tent dript on his purple robe, even so every state and condition of life, if accompanied with virtue, is undisturbed and delightful. But when vice is intermixed, it renders even the things that appear splendid, sumptuous, and magnificent most distasteful, nauseous, and unacceptable to the possessors. This man's thought happy in the market-place, But when he ope's his doors, hell is his case; The woman governs all, commands and brawls. Though one may without any great difficulty get rid of a wicked cross-grained wife, if he be but a man and not a slave. But a man cannot write a bill of divorce to his vice, and thereby free himself from further trouble, and procure his own repose by living apart; but it still cohabits with him, and dwells in his very bowels, and cleaves to him both by night and by day; It burns without a torch, and hastens crude old age," being through its vain glory a burthensome fellow-traveller, and through its voracity a chargeable table-companion, and a troublesome bed-fellow by breaking and spoiling one's sleep at night with cares, anxieties, and surmises. For when he does sleep his body is indeed at rest and quiet, but his mind is through superstition in terrors, dreams, and frights. When in my slumbers sorrows fill me, Then frightful dreams and visions kill me, saith one; just thus envy, fear, anger, and lust affect us. For by day-time our vice, by looking abroad and fashioning herself to the manner of others, grows shamefaced, and finds herself obliged to mask her own disorders, and does not yield herself up wholly to her appetites, but oftentimes resists and struggles with them. But in times of sleep, when it escapes both the opinions of men and the laws, and is at the remotest distance from awe and respect, it stirs every desire, and raises up its malignity and lewdness. For it attempts (as Plato speaks) the embraces of a mother, it purveys unlawful meats, and refrains from no sort of action, enjoying villany, as far as it is practicable, in shades and phantoms, that end in no real pleasure or accomplishment of desire, but have only power to stir up and enrage disorders and distempers. 

3  Where then is the pleasure of vice, if there be nowhere to be found either freedom from care or exemption from trouble, or satisfaction or undisturbedness or repose? A sound complexion and good health of body give indeed both place and birth to the flesh's pleasures; but there cannot be engendered a gayety and cheerfulness in the mind, unless undauntedness, assurance, or an immovable serenity be the foundation. Nay, if some hope or satisfaction should simper a little, this would be soon puddled and disturbed by some sudden eruption of care, like a smooth sea by a rock. 

4  Heap up gold, gather together silver, raise up walks, fill your house with slaves and the town with debtors; if you do not appease the disorders of your own mind, and stint your unsatiable desire, and deliver yourself from fears and cares, you do but rack wine for a man in a fever, and administer honey to a man disturbed with bile, and prepare meat and good cheer for people that have the flux or gripes, who can neither retain it nor be strengthened by it, but are over and above spoiled by it. Do you not see how sick persons loathe, spit out, and refuse the finest and most costly meats, though they be proffered and forced upon them; and how again, when their complexion alters, and good spirits, sweet blood, and a connatural heat are engendered, they get up and gladly and willingly eat brown bread, cheese, and cresses? Such a disposition as this is it that reason works in the mind. And you will have sufficiency, if you will but learn what a notable and generous mind is. You will live luxuriously in poverty, and be a prince; and you will be as much in love with a vacant and private life as with that of a general or king. If you once apply to philosophy, you will never live without pleasure, but you will learn to be everywhere pleased, and with every thing. You will be pleased with wealth for making you beneficial to many, and with poverty for not having much to care for; with fame for being honored, and with obscurity for being unenvied.

1  As soon, Apollonius, as I heard the news of the untimely death of your son, who was very dear to us all, I fell sick of the same grief with you, and shared your misfortune with all the tenderness of sympathy. For he was a sweet and modest young man, devout towards the Gods, obedient to his parents, and obliging to his friends; indeed doing all things that were just. But when the tears of his funeral were scarcely dry, I thought it a time very improper to call upon you and put you in mind that you should bear this accident like a man; for when this unexpected affliction made you languish both in body and mind, I considered then that compassion was more seasonable than advice. For the most skilful physicians do not put a sudden stop to a flux of humors, but give them time to settle, and then foment the swelling by softening and bringing it to a head with medicines outwardly applied. 

2  So now that a competent time is past — time which brings all things to maturity — since the first surprise of your calamity, I believed I should do an acceptable piece of friendship, if I should now comfort you with those reasons which may lessen your grief and silence your complaints. Soft words alleviate a wounded heart, If you in time will mitigate the smart." Euripides hath said wisely to this purpose: Our applications should suited be Unto the nature of the malady; Of sorrow we should wipe the tender eyes, But the immoderate weeper should chastise For of all the passions which move and afflict the mind of man, sorrow in its nature is the most grievous; in some they say it hath produced madness, others have contracted incurable diseases, and some out of the vehemence of it have laid violent hands upon themselves. 

3  Therefore to be sad, even to an indisposition, for the death of a son proceeds from a principle of nature, and it is out of our power to prevent it. I dislike those who boast so much of hard and inflexible temper which they call apathy, it being a disposition which never happens and never could be of use to us; for it would extinguish that sociable love we ought to have for one another, and which it is so necessary above all things to preserve. But to mourn excessively and to accumulate grief I do affirm to be altogether unnatural, and to result from a depraved opinion we have of things; therefore we ought to shun it as destructive in itself, and unworthy of a virtuous man; but to be moderately affected by grief we cannot condemn. It were to be wished, saith Crantor the Academic, that we could not be sick at all; but when a distemper seizeth us, it is requisite we should have sense and feeling in case any of our members be plucked or cut off. For that talked-of apathy can never happen to a man without great detriment; for as now the body, so soon the very mind would be wild and savage. 

4  Therefore in such accidents, it is but reasonable that they who are in their right senses should avoid both extremes, of being without any passion at all and of having too much; for as the one argues a mind that is obstinate and fierce, so the other doth one that is soft and effeminate. He therefore hath cast up his accounts the best, who, confining himself within due bounds, hath such ascendant over his temper, as to bear prosperous and adverse fortune with the same equality, whichsoever it is that happens to him in this life. He puts on those resolutions as if he were in a popular government where magistracy is decided by lot; if it luckily falls to his share, he obeys his fortune, but if it passeth him, he doth not repine at it. So we must submit to the dispensation of human affairs, without being uneasy and querulous. Those who cannot do this want prudence and steadiness of mind to bear more happy circumstances; for amongst other things which are prettily said, this is one remarkable precept of Euripides: If Fortune prove extravagantly kind, Above its temper do not raise thy mind; If she disclaims thee like a jilting dame, Be not dejected, but be still the same, Like gold unchanged amidst the hottest flame. For it is the part of a wise and well-educated man, not to be transported beyond himself with any prosperous events, and so, when the scene of fortune changeth, to observe still the comeliness and decency of his morals. For it is the business of a man that lives by rule, either to prevent an evil that threatens him, or, when it is come, to qualify its malignity and make it as little as he can, or put on a masculine brave spirit and so resolve to endure it. For there are four ways that prudence concerns herself about any thing that is good; she is either industrious to acquire or careful to preserve, she either augments or useth it well. These are the measures of prudence, and consequently those of all other virtues, by which we ought to square ourselves in either fortune. For no man lives who always happy is." And, by Zeus, you should not hinder what ought to be done: Those things which in their nature ought to be." 

5  For, as amongst trees some are very thick with fruit, and some bear none at all; amongst living creatures some are very prolific, and some barren; and as in the sea there is alternate vicissitude of calms and tempests, so in human life there are many and various circumstances which distract a man into divers changes of fortune. One considering this matter hath not said much from the purpose: Think not thyself, O Atreus' son, forlorn; Thou always to be happy wast not born. Even Agamemnon's self must be a shade, For thou of frail materials art made. Sorrowand joy alternately succeed; 'Spite of thy teeth, the Gods have so decreed." These verses are Menander's. If thou, O Trophimus, of all mankind, Uninterrupted happiness couldst find; If when thy mother brought thee forth with pain, Didst this condition of thy life obtain, That only prosperous gales thy sails should fill, And all things happen 'cording to thy will; If any of the Gods did so engage, Such usage justly might provoke thy rage, Matter for smart resentment might afford, For the false Deity did break his word. But if thou unexcepted saw'st the light, Without a promise of the least delight, I say to thee (gravely in tragic style) Thou ought to be more patient all the while. In short, — and to say more there's no one can: Which is a name of frailty, thou'rt a man; A creature more rejoicing is not found, None more dejected creeps upon the ground. Though weak, yet he in politics refines, Involves himself in intricate designs; With nauseous business he himself doth cloy, And so the pleasure of his life destroy. In great pursuits thou never hast been cross'd No disappointments have thy projects lost; Nay, such hath been the mildness of thy fate, Hast no misfortune had of any rate; If Fortune is at any time severe, Serene and undisturbed thou must appear. But though this be the state of all sublunary things, yet such is the extravagant pride and folly of some men, that if they are raised above the common by the greatness of their riches or functions of magistracy, or if they arrive to any eminent charge in the commonwealth, they presently swell with the titles of their honor, and threaten and insult over their inferiors; never considering what a treacherous Goddess Fortune is, and how easy a revolution it is for things that are uppermost to be thrown down from their height and for humble things to be exalted, and that these changes of Fortune are performed quickly and in the swiftest moments of time. To seek for any certainty therefore in that which is uncertain is the part of those who judge not aright of things: Like to a wheel that constantly goes round, One part is up whilst t'other's on the ground. 

6  But the most sovereign remedy against sorrow is our reason, and out of this arsenal we may arm ourselves with defence against all the casualties of life; for every one ought to lay down this as a maxim, that not only is he himself mortal in his nature, but life itself decays, and things are easily changed into quite the contrary to what they are; for our bodies are made up of perishing ingredients. Our fortunes and our passions too are subject to the same mortality; indeed all things in this world are in perpetual flux: Which no man can avoid with all his care." It is an expression of Pindar, that we are held to the dark bottom of hell by necessities as hard as iron. And Euripidessays: No worldly wealth is firm and sure; But for a day it doth endure." And also: From small beginnings our misfortunes grow, And little rubs our feet do overthrow; A single day is able down to cast Some things from height, and others raise as fast. Demetrius Phalereus affirms that this was truly said, but that the poet had been more in the right if for a single day he had put only a moment of time. For earthly fruits and mortal men's estate Turn round about in one and selfsame rate; Some live, wax strong, and prosper day by day, While others are cast down and fade away." And Pindar hath it in another place, What are we, what are we not? Man is but a shadow's dream." He used an artificial and very perspicuous hyperbole to draw human life in its genuine colors; for what is weaker than a shadow? Or what words can be found out whereby to express a shadow's dream? Crantor hath something consonant to this, when, condoling Hippocles upon the loss of his children, he speaks after this manner: "These are the things which all the old philosophers talk of and have instructed us in; which though we do not agree to in every particular, yet this hath too sharp a truth in it, that our life is painful and full of difficulties; and if it doth not labor with them in its own nature, yet we ourselves have infected it with that corruption. For the inconstancy of Fortune joined us at the beginning of our journey, and hath accompanied us ever since; so that it can produce nothing that is sound or comfortable unto us; and the bitter potion was mingled for us as soon as we were born. For the principles of our nature being mortal is the cause that our judgment is depraved, that diseases, cares, and all those fatal inconveniences afflict mankind." But what need of this digression? Only that we may be made sensible that it is no unusual thing if a man be unfortunate; but we are all subject to the same calamity. For as Theophrastus saith, Fortune surpriseth us unawares, robs us of those things we have got by the sweat of our industry, and spoils the gaudy appearance of a prosperous condition; and this she doth when she pleaseth, not being stinted to any periods of time. These and things of the like nature it is easy for a man to ponder with himself, and to hearken to the sayings of ancient and wise men; among whom divine Homer is the chief, who sung after this manner: Of all that breathes or grovelling creeps on earth, Most man is vain! calamitous by birth: Today, with power elate, in strength he blooms; The haughty creature on that power presumes: Anon from Heaven a sad reverse he feels; Untaught to bear, 'gainst Heaven the wretch rebels. For man is changeful, as his bliss or woe; Too high when prosperous, when distress'd too low." And in another place: What or from whence I am, or who my sire (Replied the chief), can Tydeus' son enquire? Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise. So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are past away." How prettily he managed this image of human life appears from what he hath said in another place: For what is man? Calamitous by birth, They owe their life and nourishment to earth; Like yearly leaves, that now with beauty crown'd, Smile on the sun, now wither on the ground. When Pausanias the king of Sparta was frequently bragging of his performances, and bidding Simonides the lyric poet in raillery to give him some wise precept, he, knowing the vain-glory of him that spoke, admonished him to remember that he was a man. Philip the king of Macedon, when he had received three despatches of good news at the same time, of which the first was that his chariots had won the victory in the Olympic games, the second, that his general Parmenio had overcome the Dardanians in fight, and the third, that his wife Olympias had brought him forth an heir, — lifting up his eyes to heaven, he passionately cried out, Propitious Daemon! let the affliction be moderate by which thou intendest to be even with me for this complicated happiness. Theramenes, one of the thirty tyrants of Athens, when he alone was preserved from the ruins of a house that fell upon the rest of his friends as they were sitting at supper, and all came about him to congratulate him on his escape, — broke out in an emphatical accent, Fortune! for what calamity dost thou reserve me? And not long after, by the command of his fellow-tyrants, he was tormented to death. 

7  But Homer seems to indicate a particular praise to himself, when he brings in Achilles speaking thus to Priam, who was come forth to ransom the body of Hector: Rise then; let reason mitigate our care: To mourn avails not: man is born to bear. Such is, alas! the Gods' severe decree: They, only they, are blest, and only free. Two urns by Zeus's high throne have ever stood, The source of evil one, and one of good; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, Blessings to these, to these distributes ills; To most he mingles both; the wretch decreed To taste the bad unmix'd is cursed indeed; Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven." Hesiod, who was the next to Homer both in respect of time and reputation, and who professed to be a disciple of the Muses, fancied that all evils were shut up in a box, and that Pandora opening it scattered all sorts of mischiefs through both the earth and seas: The cover of the box she did remove, And to fly out the crowding mischief strove; But slender hope upon the brims did stay, Ready to vanish into air away; She with retrieve the haggard in did put, And on the prisoner close the box did shut; But plagues innumerable abroad did fly, Infecting all the earth, the seas, and sky, Diseases now with silent feet do creep, Torment us waking, and afflict our sleep. These midnight evils steal without a noise, For Zeus deprived them of their voice." 

8  After these the comedian, talking of those who bear afflictions uneasily, speaks consonantly to this purpose: If we in wet complaints could quench our grief, At any rate we'd purchase our relief; With proffered gold would bribe off all our fears, And make our eyes distil in precious tears. But the Gods mind not mortals here below, Nor the least thought on our affairs bestow; But with an unregarding air pass by, Whether our cheeks be moist, or whether dry. Unhappiness is always sorrow's root, And tears do hang from them like crystal fruit. And Dictys comforts Danae, who was bitterly taking on, after this manner: Dost think that thy repinings move the grave, Or from its jaws thy dying son can save? If thou would'st lessen it, thy grief compare; Consider how unhappy others are; How many bonds of slavery do hold; How many of their children robbed grow old; How sudden Fate throws off th' usurped crown, And in the dirt doth tread the tyrant down. Let this with deep impression in thee sink, And on these revolutions often think." He bids her consider the condition of those who have suffered equal or greater afflictions, and by such a parallel to comfort up her own distempered mind. 

9  And here that opinion of Socrates comes in very pertinently, who thought that if all our misfortunes were laid in one common heap, whence every one must take an equal portion, most people would be contented to take their own and depart. After this manner Antimachus the poet allayed his grief when he lost his wife Lyde, whom he tenderly loved; for he writ an elegy upon her, which he called by her own name, and in it he numbered up all the calamities which have befallen great men; and so by the remembrance of other men's sorrows he assuaged his own. By this it may appear, that he who comforts another who is macerating himself with grief, and demonstrates to him, by reckoning up their several misfortunes, that he suffers nothing but what is common to him with other men, takes the surest way to lessen the opinion he had of his condition, and brings him to believe that it is not altogether so bad as he took it to be. 

10  Aeschylus also doth justly reprimand those who think death to be an evil, declaring after this manner: Some as a thing injurious death do fly; But of all mischiefs 'tis the remedy. And he who spoke thus very nicely imitated him: Come, with impatience I expect thee, Death; And stop with thy obliging hand my breath: To thee as a physician all resort, And we through tempests sail into thy port. And it is great to speak this sentence with courage: Where is the slave who never fears to die?" Or this: And shadows never scare me, thanks to hell. But what is it at length in death, that is so grievous and troublesome? For I know not how it comes to pass that, when it is so familiar and as it were related to us, it should seem so terrible. How can it be rational to wonder, if that cleaves asunder which is divisible, if that melts whose nature is liquefaction, if that burns which is combustible, and so, by a parity of reason, if that perisheth which by nature is perishable? For when is it that death is not in us? For, as Heraclitus saith, it is the same thing to be dead and alive, asleep and awake, a young man and decrepit; for these alternately are changed one into another. For as a potter can form the shape of an animal out of his clay and then as easily deface it, and can repeat this backwards and forwards as often as he pleaseth, so Nature too out of the same materials fashioned first our grandfathers, next our fathers, then us, and in process of time will engender others, and again others upon these. For as the flood of our generation glides on without any intermission and will never stop, so in the other direction the stream of our corruption flows eternally on, whether it be called Acheron or Cocytus by the poets. So that the same cause which first showed us the light of the sun carries us down to infernal darkness. And in my mind, the air which encompasseth us seems to be a lively image of the thing; for it brings on the vicissitudes of night and day, life and death, sleeping and waking. For this cause it is that life is called a fatal debt, which our fathers contracted and we are bound to pay; which is to be done calmly and without any complaint, when the creditor demands it; and by this means we shall show ourselves men of sedate passions. 

11  And I believe Nature, knowing the confusion and shortness of our life, hath industriously concealed the end of it from us, this making for our advantage. For if we were sensible of it beforehand, some would pine away with untimely sorrow, and would die before their death came. For she saw the woes of this life, and with what a torrent of cares it is overflowed, — which if thou didst undertake to number, thou wouldst grow angry with it, and confirm that opinion which hath a vogue amongst some, that death is more desirable than life. Simonides hath glossed upon it after this manner: Our time is of a short and tender length, Cares we have many, and but little strength; Labors in crowds push one another on, And cruel destiny we cannot shun. The casting of these lots is very just, For good and bad lie in one common dust. Pindar hath it so: The Gods unequal have us mortals vexed, For to one good, two evils are annexed: They pay a single joy with double care, And fools such dispensations cannot bear." Sophocles so: Why at a mortal's death dost thou complain? Thou know'st not what may be his future gain. And Euripides so: Dost thou not know the state of human things? A faithful monitor thy instruction brings: Inevitable death hangs o'er our head, And threatens falling by a doubtful thread. There's no man can be certain over night, If he shall live to see tomorrow's light. Life without any interruption flows, And the results of fate there's no man knows." If then the condition of human life is such as they speak of, why do we not rather applaud their good fortunes who are freed from the drudgery of it, than pity and deplore them, as some men's folly prompts them to do? 

12  Socrates said that death was like either to a very deep sleep, or to a journey taken a great way and for a long time, or else to the utter extinction of soul and body; and if we examine each of these comparisons, he said, we shall find that death is not an evil upon any account. For if death is sleep, and no hurt happens to those who are in that innocent condition, it is manifest that neither are the dead ill dealt with. To what purpose should I talk of that which is so tritely known amongst all, that the most profound sleep is always the sweetest? Homer particularly attests it: His senses all becalmed, he drew his breath, His sleep was sound, and quiet like to death. And in many places he saith thus: She met Death's brother, Sleep. And again: Twin brothers, Sleep and Death: thereby representing the similitude (as it were) to the sight, for twins especially indicate similarity. And in another place he saith, Death is brazen sleep, thereby intimating to us that it is insensible. Neither hath he spoken much amiss who calls sleep the lesser mysteries of death; for sleep is really the first initiation into the mysteries of death. Diogenes the Cynic, when a little before his death he fell into a slumber, and his physician rousing him out of it asked him whether any thing ailed him, wisely answered, Nothing, sir, only one brother anticipates another, — Sleep before Death. 

13  If death be like a journey, neither upon this account is it an evil, but rather the contrary; for certainly it is the emphasis of happiness to be freed from the incumbrances of the flesh and all those troublesome passions which attend it, which serve only to darken the understanding, and overspread it with all the folly that is incident to human nature. The very body," saith Plato, "procures us infinite disquiet only to supply its daily necessities with food; but if any diseases are coincident, they hinder our contemplations, and stop us in our researches after truth. Besides, it distracts us with irregular desires, fears, and vain amours, setting before us so many fantastic images of things, that the common saying is here most true, that on account of the body we can never become wise. For wars, popular seditions, and shedding of blood by the sword are owing to no other original than this care of the body and gratifying its licentious appetites; for we fight only to get riches, and these we acquire only to please the body; so that those who are thus employed have not leisure to be philosophers. And after all, when we have retrieved an interval of time to seek after truth, the body officiously interrupts us, is so troublesome and importune, that we can by no means discern its nature. Therefore it is evident that, if we will clearly know any thing, we must divest ourselves of the body, and behold things as they are in themselves with the mind itself, that at last we may attain what we so much desire, and what we do profess ourselves the most partial admirers of, which is wisdom. And this we cannot consummately enjoy till after death, as reason teacheth us. For if so be that we can understand nothing clearly as long as we are clogged with flesh, one of these things must needs be, either that we shall never arrive at that knowledge at all, or only when we die; for then the soul will exist by itself, separate from the body; and whilst we are in this life, we shall make the nearest advances towards it, if we have no more to do with the body than what decency and necessity require, if we break off all commerce with it, and keep ourselves pure from its contagion, till God shall give us a final release, and then being pure and freed from all its follies, we shall converse (it is likely) with intelligences as pure as ourselves, with our unaided vision beholding perfect purity, — and this is truth itself. For it is not fit that what is pure should be apprehended by what is impure."" Therefore, if death only transports us to another place, it is not to be looked upon as an evil, but rather as an exceeding good, as Plato hath demonstrated. The words of Socrates to his judges seem to me to be spoken even with inspiration: "To fear death, gentlemen, is nothing else than to counterfeit the being wise, when we are not so. For he that fears death pretends to know what he is ignorant of; for no man is certain whether death be not the greatest good that can befall a man, but they positively dread it as if they were sure it was the greatest of evils." Agreeably to this said one after this manner: Let no man fear what doth his labors end; and death sets us free even from the greatest evils. 

14  The Gods themselves bear witness to the truth of this, for many have obtained death as a gratuity from them. The less famous instances I will pass by, that I may not be prolix, and only mention those who are the most celebrated and in all men's mouths. And in the first place, I will relate what befell Biton and Cleobis, two young men of Argos. They report that their mother being the priestess of Hera, and the time being come that she was to go up to the temple to perform the rites of the Goddess, and those whose office it was to draw her chariot tarrying longer than usual, these two young men harnessed themselves and took it up, and so carried their mother to the sanctuary. She, being extremely taken with the piety of her sons, petitioned the Goddess that she would bestow upon them the best present that could be given to men; accordingly she cast them into that deep sleep out of which they never awoke, taking this way to recompense their filial zeal with death. Pindar writes of Agamedes and Trophonius, that after they had built a temple at Delphi, they requested of Apollo a reward for their work. It was answered them that they should have it within seven days, but in the mean while they were commanded to live freely and indulge their genius; accordingly they obeyed the dictate, and the seventh night they died in their beds. It is said also of Pindar, that when the deputies of the Boeotians were sent to consult the oracle, he desired them to enquire of it which was the best thing amongst men, and that the Priestess of the tripod gave them this answer, — that he could not be ignorant of it, if he was the author of those writings concerning Agamedes and Trophonius; but if he desired personally to know, it should in a little time be made manifest to him; and that Pindar hearing this prepared himself for the stroke of Fate, and died in a short time after. Of Euthynous the Italian there is this memorable story, that he died suddenly, without anybody's knowing the cause of his death. His father was Elysius the Terinean, who was a man of the first condition for his estate and virtue, being rich and honorable, and this being his only son and heir to all his fortune, which was very great, he had a strong jealousy upon him that he was poisoned, and not knowing how he should come to the information of it, he went into the vault where they invoke the dead, and after having offered sacrifice, as it is enjoined by the law, he slept in the place; when all things were in a midnight silence, he had this vision. His father appeared to him, to whom after having related his lamentable misfortune, he earnestly desired the ghost that he would assist him in finding out the cause. He answered that he was come on purpose to do it. But first, saith he, receive from this one what he hath brought thee, and thereby thou wilt understand the reason of all thy sorrow. The person that the father meant was very like to Euthynous both for years and stature; and the question being put to him who he was, he answered, I am the genius of thy son; and at the same time he reached out a book to him, which he opened and found these verses written therein: 'Tis ignorance makes wretched men to err; Fate did to happiness thy son prefer. By destined death Euthynous seized we see; So 'twas the better both for him and thee. These are the stories which the ancients tell us. 

15  But lastly, if death be the entire dissipation of soul and body (which was the third part of Socrates's comparison), even then it cannot be an evil. For this would produce a privation of sense, and consequently a complete freedom from all solicitude and care; and if no good, so no evil would befall us. For good and evil alike must by nature inhere in that which has existence and essence; but to that which is nothing, and wholly abolished out of the nature of things, neither of the two can belong. Therefore, when men die, they return to the same condition they were in before they were born. For as, before we came into the world, we were neither sensible of good nor afflicted with evil, so it will be when we leave it; and as those things which preceded our birth did not concern us, so neither will those things which are subsequent to our death: The dead secure from sorrow safe do lie, 'Tis the same thing not to be born and die." For it is the same state of existence after death as it was before we were born. Unless perhaps you will make a difference between having no being at all and the utter extinction of it, after the same manner that you make a distinction between an house and a garment after they are ruined and worn out, and at the time before the one was built and the other made. And if in this case there is no difference, it is plain that there is none between the state before we were born and that after we are dead. It is elegantly said by Arcesilaus, that death, which is called an evil, hath this peculiarly distinct from all that are thought so, that when it is present it gives us no disturbance, but when remote and in expectation only, it is then that it afflicts us. And indeed many out of the poorness of their spirit, having entertained most injurious opinions of it, have died even to prevent death. Epicharmus hath said excellently to this purpose: "It was united, it is now dissolved; it returns back whence it came, — earth to earth, the spirit to regions above. What in all this is grievous? Nothing at all." But that which Cresphontes in Euripides saith of Hercules: For if he dwells below, beneath the earth, With those whose life is gone, his strength is nought, I would have changed into these words: For if he dwells below, beneath the earth, With those whose life is gone, his woes are o'er. This Laconic too is very noble: Others before and after us will be, Whose age we're not permitted e'er to see. And again: These neither did live handsomely nor die, Though both should have been done with decency. But Euripides hath spoken incomparably well of those who labor under daily indispositions: I hate the man who studies to defeat The power of death with artificial meat, To baffle and prevent his fate does think, And lengthens out his life with magic drink. Whereas, when he a burden doth become, Then he should die, because he's troublesome. Old age in modesty should then give place, And so make way unto a brisker race." But Merope moved the passion of the theatre with these masculine expressions: My sons by death are ravished from my side, And I'm a widow, who was once a bride. I am not thus selected to be crossed, Others their sons and husbands too have lost." And we may not incongruously add these: What is become of that magnificence? Where is King Croesus with his opulence? Or where is Xerxes with his mighty pride, Who with a bridge did curb the raging tide? Inhabitants of darkness they became, And now are living only in their fame. Their riches have perished with their bodies. 

16  Yes, we may say, but an untimely death from many doth extort groans and passionate complaints. But the way to dry up these sorrows is so expedite and easy, that every vulgar poet hath prescribed it. Consider what consolation a comedian puts in the mouth of one who comforts another upon so sad an occasion: If this with certainty thou could'st have known, That Fortune always would have kindness shown, That nothing but what's good would him befall, His death thou justly might'st untimely call. But if calamities were imminent, And Death the fatal mischief did prevent, To give to things the character that's due, Death was the most obliging of the two. It therefore being uncertain whether it was for his advantage that he departed this life and was freed from all the miseries that attend it, we had thereby lost all that we fancied we could enjoy in him whilst he was living. And Amphiaraus in the poet doth not do amiss when he consoles the mother of Archemorus, who was even sick with grief for the untimely death of her infant son. He speaks: There is no man whom sorrow doth not seize; Our children die while others we beget. At last we die ourselves, and mortals grieve As they give dust to dust; but human life Must needs be reaped like a full crop of corn. One man must live, another die: why weep For this, which by necessity must be? There is no hardship in necessity." 

17  In general, every one should meditate seriously with himself, and have the concurrence of other men's opinions with his own, that it is not the longest life which is the best, but that which is the most virtuous. For that musician is not to be commended who plays upon variety of instruments, nor that orator that makes multiplicity of speeches, nor the pilot that conducts many ships, but he of each faculty that doth one of them well; for the beauty of a thing doth not consist in length of time, but in the virtue and seasonable moderation wherewith it is transacted. This is that which is called happy and grateful to the Gods. And for this reason it is that poets celebrate those who have died before they have become old, and propose them for examples, as the most excellent men and of divine extraction, as him for instance, Beloved by Zeus and him who gilds the skies, Yet short his date of life." And we see in every thing that preference is not given so much to age as to maturity. For amongst trees and plants, those are accounted the most generous which bring forth abundance of fruit, and that early ripe. And amongst living creatures too, those are the most valued which supply us with the accommodations of life in a short time. Besides, if we compare the space of our life with eternity, we shall find no difference betwixt long and short; for according to Simonides, thousands and millions of years are but as a point to what is infinite, or rather the smallest part of that point. They report that about Pontus there are some creatures of such an extempore being that the whole term of their life is confined within the space of a day; for they are brought forth in the morning, are in the prime of their existence at noon, grow old at night, and then die. Dost thou not think that if these had the soul and reason of a man, they would be so affected, and that things would happen to them after the same manner as to us? — that those who died before the meridian would be lamented with tears and groans? — and that we should call them happy who lived their day out? For the measure of a man's life is the well spending of it, and not the length. 

18  But such exclamations as this, "the young man ought not to be taken off so abruptly in the vigor of his years," are very frivolous, and proceed from a great weakness of mind; for who is it that can say what a thing ought to be? But things have been, are, and will be done, which somebody or other will say ought not to be done. But we do not come into this life to be dogmatical and prescribe to it; but we must obey the dictates of the Gods who govern the world, and submit to the establishments of Fate and Providence. 

19  But when they mourn over those who die so untimely, do they do it upon their own account, or upon that of the deceased? If upon their own, because they have lost that pleasure they thought they should have enjoyed in them, or are deprived of that profit they expected or that relief they flattered themselves they should receive from them in their old age, then self-love and personal interest prescribe the measures of their sorrow; so that upon the result they do not love the dead so much as themselves and their own interest. But if they lament upon the account of the deceased, that is a grief easily to be shaken off, if they only consider that by their very death they will be out of the sphere of any evil that can reach them, and believe the wise and ancient saying, that we should always augment what is good, and extenuate the evil. Therefore if grief is a good thing, let us enlarge and make it as great as we can; but if it is numbered amongst the evils, as in truth it ought to be, let us endeavor all we can to suppress it, make it as inconsiderable as we can, and at last utterly efface it. How easy this is to be done, I will make appear by an illustrious example of consolation. They say that an ancient philosopher came to the Queen Arsinoe, who was then sorrowful for the death of her son, and discoursed her after this manner: "At the time that Zeus distributed honors amongst his under-deities, it happened that Grief was absent; but he came at last when all the dignities were disposed of, and then desired that he might have some share in the promotions. Zeus, having no better vacancies left, bestowed upon him sorrow and funeral tears." He made this inference from the story: "Therefore," saith he, "as other daemons love and frequent those who give them hospitable reception, so sadness will never come near you, if you do not give it encouragement; but if you caress it with those particular honors which it challengeth as its due, which are sighs and tears, it will have an unlucky affection for you, and will always supply you with fresh occasion that the observance may be continued." By this plausible speech he seems in a wonderful manner to have buoyed this great woman out of her tears, and to have made her cast off her veil. 

20  In short, I would ask the mourner whether he designs to put an end to his grief, or to allow the anguish to have the same duration with his life. If this thou hast resolved, I must say thou hast cut out for thyself the most bitter infelicity in the world, and all through the stupidity and softness of thy mind; but if thou wilt ever make a change, why dost thou not make it now, and so free thyself from misery? Apply now the same reasons thou must use a great while hence, to unburden thy mind and ease thy afflictions; and as in bodily distempers the quickest remedy is the best, so bestow the advantage thou must otherwise allow to time upon reason and instruction, and so cease to be unhappy. 

21  But it is objected, the calamity was sudden, and I did not expect it. But thou oughtest to have done it, and considered the vanity and uncertainty of human affairs, that thy enemies might not have come suddenly upon thee and taken thee unawares. Theseus in Euripides seems to be excellently well prepared for events of this nature, for he saith thus: This wholesome precept from the wise I learn, To think of misery without concern. My meditating thoughts are always spent Either on death or else on banishment. Foresight of evils doth employ my mind, That me without defence they may not find; And though in ambuscade the mischief lies, Kill me it may, but shall not me surprise." But those who are of a degenerate and thoughtless spirit never apply their mind to any thing that is either useful or becoming; but they grow exorbitant in their sorrows, and afflict the innocent body, making it sick for company, as Achaeus expresseth it. 

22  Therefore Plato doth rightly instruct us to acquiesce in cases of this nature, when it is not manifest whether they be good or evil, and when we get nothing by being uneasy under them; for grief is the greatest obstacle to deliberation as to what is best to be done. Therefore he commands us, as in the casting of dice, to accommodate ourselves to what befalls us, in the way which reason shows us to be best; and when any thing ails us, not to imitate the folly of children, who presently cry out and clap their hands to the place affected, but to accustom our minds to seek at once for remedies which may restore the part that is diseased to its first tone of health, making lamentation give place to the healing art. He that instituted laws for the Lycians commanded the citizens that when they mourned they should put on women's apparel, intimating thereby that sorrow was an effeminate thing, and therefore was not fit for men of temper and liberal education. For it is indeed a weak and unmanly passion, and women are more subject to it than men, the barbarians more than the Greeks, and the dregs of mankind more than the refined part of them; and even amongst the barbarians, the brave-spirited Celts and Gauls have not a propensity to it, or any that have generous sentiments; but the Egyptians, the Syrians, and the Lydians, and those who resemble them in the softness of their disposition. They report that some of these will hide themselves in retirements under ground, and refuse to behold that sun of which their lamented friend is deprived. Ion, the tragedian, who heard something of this extravagance, introduceth a person speaking after this manner: Your blooming children's nurse, I have come forth A suppliant from the caves where I have mourned. Some of these barbarians have deformed their bodies by cutting off their noses, ears, and other parts of themselves, thinking to gratify the dead by these mutilations, when in doing so they deviated excessively from that moderation which Nature prescribes us. 

23  And, by Zeus, we meet with some persons who affirm that the death of every one is not to be lamented, but only of those who die untimely; for they have not tasted of those things which we call enjoyments in the world, as a nuptial bed, proficiency in learning, the coming up to an height in any thing, the honor of magistracy and charges in the government. It is for the sake of these things that we condole with those who lose friends by untimely death, because they were frustrated of their hopes; but in the meanwhile we are ignorant that a sudden death doth not at all differ from any other, considering the condition of human nature. For as when a journey is enjoined into a remote country, and there is a necessity for every one to undertake it, and none hath liberty to refuse, though some go before and others follow, yet all must arrive at the same stage at last; so when we all lie under an obligation of discharging the same debt, it is not material whether we pay sooner or later. But if any one's death may be called untimely, and consequently an evil, that appellation suits only with that of children and infants, and especially of those who are newly born. But this we bear steadfastly and with patience; but when those that are grown up die, we take on heavily, because we fondly hoped that when their years were full blown they would then have an uninterrupted state of health. Now if the age of man were limited to the space of twenty years, we should not think that he who had arrived to fifteen died an untimely death, but that he had filled up a just measure of living; but one that had attained twenty, or at least had approached very near it, we should applaud for his good fortune, as if he had enjoyed the most happy and perfect life in the world. So if life were prolonged to two hundred years as its fixed period, and any one died at a hundred, we should howl over him as if he had been hastily cut off. 

24  It is manifest then, by what hath been said now and what hath been mentioned before, that the death we call untimely is capable of consolation; and the saying is true, that "Troilus wept less than Priam," perishing as he did in his youth, while his father's kingdom flourished and his riches abounded, which Priam afterwards laments as most deplorably lost. For observe what he saith to his son Hector, when he entreats him to decline the battle he was going to fight against Achilles: Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the wall; And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all! Save thy dear life; or, if a soul so brave Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs; While yet thy father feels the woes he bears, Yet curst with sense! a wretch whom in his rage All trembling on the verge of helpless age Great Zeus has placed, sad spectacle of pain! The bitter dregs of Fortune's cup to drain: To fill with scenes of death his closing eyes, And number all his days by miseries! My heroes slain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd, My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd, My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor; These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more! Perhaps even I, reserv'd by angry Fate, The last sad relic of my ruin'd state, (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness!) must fall, And stain the pavement of my regal hall; Where famish'd dogs, late guardians of my door, Shall lick their mangled master's spatter'd gore. But when the Fates, in fulness of their rage, Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, In dust the reverend lineaments deform, And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm: This, this is misery! the last, the worst, That man can feel, — man, fated to be cursed! He said, and acting what no words can say, Rent from his head the silver locks away. With him the mournful mother bears a part; Yet all her sorrows turn not Hector's heart." Having then so many examples of this kind before thine eyes, thou oughtest to make thyself sensible that not a few have been saved by death from those calamities they would certainly have fallen into had they lived longer. Contenting myself with those I have related already, I will omit the rest, that I may not seem tedious; and these are sufficient to show that we ought not to abandon ourselves to violent sorrow, beyond temper and the bounds of nature. 

25  Crantor saith, To be innocent is the greatest comfort in afflictions. I assent to him, and affirm that it is the noblest remedy. Besides, the indication of our love to the deceased consists not in grieving ourselves for him, but in paying respect to his fame by honorable remembrance. For no good man deserves elegies, but panegyrics; and we should rather celebrate his loss by an honorable remembrance, than lament it; and offer up rather first-fruits of joy to the Gods, and not tears which sorrow extorts from us. For he who ceaseth to be amongst men becomes partaker of a divine life, is free from the servitude of the body, and all those solicitous cares which they who are embarrassed with a mortal life of necessity must undergo till they have finished the course which Providence hath marked out for them; and this life Nature hath not given us as a perpetual possession, but hath clogged it with restrictions and conditions of fate. 

26  Those therefore who are the masters of their reason ought not to be transported by the death of friends beyond the limits of nature and a just moderation unto unprofitable and barbarous complaints, and so wait till that comes upon them which hath happened to many, to have their vital moisture exhausted before their tears, and to be carried to their own graves in those mourning weeds they put on for others, where their sorrow must lie buried with those evils they provoked upon themselves by their own imprudence. To whom that of Homer may be appositely applied: Whilst others they lament with weeping eyes, The darkness of the night doth them surprise." Wherefore in this case we should often thus reason with ourselves: Shall we put an end to our sorrow, or shall we grieve all the days of our life? To make it infinite is the last degree of infatuation; for we have seen those who have been in the deepest circumstances of dejection to be so mitigated by time, that they have banqueted upon those tombs which before they could not endure the sight of without screeching out and beating their breasts, but which they can now dance round with music and all the postures of jollity. Therefore to be obstinate in our grief is the resolution of madness. If then thou hast purposed within thyself that it shall have an end, join this consideration with it, that time will assuage it too; for what is once done even the Deity himself cannot unravel; therefore that which hath happened to us beyond our hope and contrary to our opinion hath palpably shown us what is wont from the same causes to befall others. What's the result then? Cannot any discipline teach us, nor cannot we reason with ourselves, that The earth with evils doth abound; As many in the sea are found?" And thus likewise: The Fates have so encompassed men with ills, That even the wind can find no entrance? 

27  For many, as Crantor tells us, and those very wise men, not now but long ago have deplored the condition of human nature, esteeming life a punishment, and to be born a man the highest pitch of calamity; this, Aristotle tells us, Silenus declared when he was brought captive to Midas. I think it best to quote the expressions of the philosopher himself, in his book entitled Eudemus, or Of the Soul, wherein he speaks after this manner: "Wherefore, thou best and happiest of mankind, if we think those blessed and happy who have departed this life, then it is not only unlawful but even blasphemy to speak any thing that is false or contumelious of them, since they are now changed into a better and more refined nature. And this my opinion is so old, that the original and author of it is utterly unknown; but it hath been derived down to us even from eternity, so established is the truth of it. Besides, thou seest what is so familiar in men's mouths, and hath been for many years a trite expression. What is that, saith he? He answered him: It is best not to be born at all; and next to that, it is more eligible to die than to live; and this is confirmed even by divine testimony. Pertinently to this they say that Midas, after hunting, asked his captive Silenussomewhat urgently, what was the most desirable thing amongst men. At first he would return no answer, but was obstinately silent. At last, when Midas would not give over importuning him, he broke out into these words, though very unwillingly: 'Thou seed of an evil genius and precarious offspring of hard fortune, whose life is but for a day, why dost thou compel me to tell thee those things it is better thou wert ignorant of? For those live the least disturbed who know not their misfortunes; but for men, the best for them is not to be born at all, nor to be made partakers of the most excellent nature; not to be is best for both sexes. This should have the first place in our choice; and the next to this is, when we are born, to die as soon as we can.' It is plain therefore, that he declared the condition of the dead to be better than that of the living." I could bring millions of examples to justify this topic, but I will not be long. 

28  We are not therefore to lament those who die in the bloom of their years, as if they were spoiled of things which we call enjoyments in a longer life; for it is uncertain, as we have often said, whether they are deprived of good or evil, for the evil in the world far exceeds the good. The good we obtain hardly and with anxious endeavor, but the evil easily befalls us; for they say evils are linked together, and by a mutual dependence of causes follow one another, but the good lie scattered and disjoined, and with great difficulty are brought within the compass of our life. Therefore we seem to have forgot our condition; for not only is it true, as Euripides hath it, that The things we do possess are not our own;" but in general no man can claim a strict propriety in any thing he hath: When Gods do riches lend, it is but just That when they please we should resign our trust. We ought not therefore to take it amiss if they demand those things which they lent us only for a small time; for even your common brokers, unless they are unjust, will not be displeased if they are called upon to refund their pawns, and if one of them is not altogether so ready to deliver them, thou mayst say to him without any injury, Hast thou forgot that thou receivedst them upon the condition to restore them? The same parity of reason holds amongst all men. The Gods have put life into our hands by a fatal necessity, and there is no prefixed time when what is so deposited will be required of us, as the brokers know not when their pawns will be demanded. If therefore any one is angry when he is dying himself, or resents the death of his children, is it not very plain, that he hath forgot that he himself is a man and that he hath begotten children as frail as himself? For a man that is in his wits cannot be ignorant that he is a mortal creature, and born to this very end that he must die. If Niobe, as it is in the fable, had had this sentence always at hand, that she must at length die, and could not In the ever-flowering bloom of youth remain, Nor loaded with children, like a fruitful tree, Behold the sun's sweet light: she would never have sunk to such a degree of desperation as to desire to throw off her life to ease the burthen of her sorrow, and call upon the Gods to hurry her into the utmost destruction. There are two sentences inscribed upon the Delphic oracle, hugely accommodated to the usages of man's life, Know Thyself, and Nothing Too Much; and upon these all other precepts depend. And they themselves accord and harmonize with each other, and each seems to illustrate the energy of the other; for in Know thyself is included Nothing too much; and so again in the latter is comprised Know thyself. And Ion hath spoken of it thus: This sentence, Know thyself, is but a word; But only Zeus himself could do the thing. And thus Pindar: This sentence brief: Do nothing to excess, Wise men have always praised exceedingly. 

29  He therefore that hath these impressed upon his mind as the precepts of the Pythian oracle, can easily conform himself to all the affairs of life, and bear them handsomely; considering his nature, so that he is neither lifted up to arrogance upon a prosperous event, nor when an adverse happens, is dejected into complaint through pusillanimity and that fear of death which is so congenial to us; both which proceed from the ignorance of those things which fall out in human life by necessity and fatal decree. The Pythagoreans speak handsomely to this purpose: Against those evils thou shouldest not repine, Which are inflicted by the powers divine. Thus the tragedian Aeschylus: He store of wisdom and of virtue hath, Whom nothing from the Gods provokes to wrath. Euripidesthus: He that is passive when the Fates command Is wise, and all the Gods doth understand. In another place so: He that can bear those things which men befall, Him wise and modest we may justly call. 

30  But many there are who blame all things; and whatsoever unexpectedly happens to them, they think is procured them by the malignity of Fortune and the spite of some evil genius. Wherefore they are querulous and cry out upon every occasion, inveighing against the bitterness of their mishaps. Their complaints we may not unfitly obviate with this expression: The Gods do hurt thee not, but thou thyself: even thou thyself through perverseness and want of good instruction. And by reason of this false and deceiving opinion they accuse any kind of death; for if one die upon his travel, they exclaim after this manner: The wretch, his father being absent, dies; Nor did his aged mother close his eyes." If he die in his own country, with his parents about him, they lament that he is ravished out of their hands, and hath left them nothing but regret for his loss. If he die silent, giving them no instructions at parting, they complain thus: His tender dying words I did not hear, Which I in my remembrance still should bear." If he spoke any thing before he breathed out his soul, they keep those last accents as fuel to maintain their sorrow still kindled. If he die a sudden death, they cry out that he is snatched away; if chronical pains waste him, they will tell you that the slow distemper hath emaciated him to death. Thus every appearance, take it which way you will, is sufficient to stir up your complaints. These things the poets have introduced, and the chiefest among them, Homer, who sung after this manner: As a poor father, helpless and undone, Mourns o'er the ashes of an only son, Takes a sad pleasure the last bones to burn, And pours in tears ere yet they close the urn." And whether these things are justly lamented doth not yet appear. But see what he elsewhere sings: Born in his elder years, his only boy, Who was designed his riches to enjoy. 

31  Who knows but that the Deity, with a fatherly providence and out of tenderness to mankind, foreseeing what would happen, hath taken some purposely out of this life by an untimely death? So we should think that nothing has befallen them which they should have sought to shun: For nought that cometh by necessity is hard, neither of those things which fall out by a precedent ratiocination or a subsequent. And many by a timely death have been withdrawn from greater calamities; so that it hath been good for some never to have been born at all; for others, that as soon as life hath been blown in it should be extinguished; for some, that they should live a little longer; and for others again, that they should be cropped in the prime of their youth. These several sorts of deaths should be taken in good part, since Fate is inevitable. Therefore it becomes men well educated to consider that those who have paid their debt to mortality have only gone before us a little time; that the longest life is but as a point in respect of eternity, and that many who have indulged their sorrow to excess have themselves followed in a small while those that they have lamented, having reaped no profit out of their complaints, but macerated themselves with voluntary afflictions. Since then the time of our pilgrimage in this life is but short, we ought not to consume ourselves with sordid grief, and so render ourselves unhappy by afflicting our minds and tormenting our bodies; but we should endeavor after a more manly and rational sort of life, and not associate ourselves with those who will be companions in grief and by flattering our tears will only excite them the more, but rather with those who will diminish our grief by solemn and generous consolation. And we ought to hear and keep in our remembrance those words of Homer wherewith Hector answers Andromache, comforting her after this manner: Andromache, my soul's far better part, Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart: No hostile hand can antedate my doom, Till Fatecondemns me to the silent tomb. Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth, And such the hard condition of our birth: No force can then resist, no flight can save, All sink alike, the fearful and the brave." Which the poet expresseth in another place thus: The thread which at his birth for him was spun." 

32  Having these things fixed in our minds, all vain and fruitless sorrow will be superseded; the time that we have all to live being but very short, we ought to spare and husband it, and not lay it out too prodigally upon sorrow, but rather spend it in tranquillity, deserting the mournful colors, and so take care of our own bodies, and consult the safety of those who live with us. It is requisite that we should call to mind what reasons we urged to our kinsmen and friends when they were in the like calamities, when we exhorted them to suffer these usual accidents of life with a common patience, and bear mortal things with humanity; lest being prepared with instructions for other men's misfortunes, we reap no benefit ourselves out of the remembrance of those consolations, and so do not cure our minds by the sovereign application of reason. For in any thing a delay is less dangerous than in sorrow; and when by every one it is so tritely said, that he that procrastinates in an affair contests with destruction, I think the character will more fitly sit upon him who defers the removing his troubles and the perturbations of his mind. 

33  We ought also to cast our eyes upon those conspicuous examples who have borne the deaths of their sons generously and with a great spirit; such as were Anaxagoras of Clazomenae, Demosthenes of Athens, Dion of Syracuse, King Antigonus, and many others who have lived either in our times or in the memory of our fathers. They report of Anaxagoras that, when he was reading natural philosophy to his pupils and reasoning with them, sudden news was brought him of the death of his son. He presently stopped short in his lecture, and said this to his auditors, I knew that I begot my son mortal. And of Pericles, who was surnamed Olympius for his wisdom and the strength of his eloquence, when he heard that both his sons were dead, Paralus and Xanthippus, how he behaved himself upon this accident Protagoras tells us in these words. "When his sons," saith he, "being in the first verdure of their youth and handsome lads, died within eight days, he bore the calamity without any repining; for he was of a pacific temper, from whence there was every day an accession of advantages towards the making him happy, the being free from grief, and thereby acquiring a great reputation amongst his fellow-citizens. For every one that saw him bear this calamity with so brave a resolution thought him magnanimous, and indeed entertained an higher opinion of him than he strictly deserved; for he was conscious to himself of some weakness and defects in cases of this nature." Now after he had received the news of the death of his sons, he put on a garland according to the custom of his country, and being clothed in white, he made an harangue to the people, was the author of safe and rational counsels, and stirred up the courage of his Athenians to warlike expeditions. Chronicles tell us, that when an express came out of the field to Xenophon the Socratic as he was sacrificing, which acquainted him that his son perished in the fight, he pulled the garland from his head, and enquired after what manner he fell; and it being told him that he died gallantly, making a great slaughter of his enemies, after he had paused awhile to recollect his thoughts and quiet his first emotion of concern with reason, he adorned his head again, finished the sacrifice, and spoke thus to the messengers: I did not make it my request to the Gods, that my son might be immortal or long-lived, for it is not manifest whether this was convenient for him or not, but that he might have integrity in his principles and be a lover of his country; and now I have my desire. Dion of Syracuse, as he was consulting with his friends concerning some affairs, heard a great noise; and crying out and asking what was the matter, he was told the accident, that his son was killed with a fall from the top of the house. He was not at all surprised or astonished at the disaster, but commanded the dead body to be delivered to the women, that they might bury it according to custom. But he went on with his first deliberations, and re-assumed his discourse in that part where this accident had broken it off. It is said that Demosthenes the orator imitated him upon the loss of his only and dearest daughter; about which Aeschines, thinking to upbraid him, spoke after this manner: Within seven days after the death of his daughter, before he had performed the decencies of sorrow, and paid those common rites to the memory of the deceased, he put on a garland, clothed himself in white, and sacrificed, thereby outraging decency, though he had lost his only daughter, the one which had first called him father. Thus did Aeschines with the strokes of his oratory accuse Demosthenes, not knowing that he rather deserved a panegyric upon this occasion, when he rejected his sorrow and preferred the love of his country to the tenderness and compassion he ought to have for his relations. King Antigonus, when he heard the death of his son Alcyoneus who was slain in battle, looking steadily upon the messengers of these sad tidings, after a little interval of silence and with a modest countenance, spoke thus: O Alcyoneus, thou hast fallen later than I thought thou wouldst, so brisk wast thou to run upon the thickest of thy enemies, having no regard either to thy own safety or to my admonitions. Every one praiseth these men for the bravery of their spirit, but none can imitate what they have done, through the weakness of their minds which proceeds from want of good instruction. But although there are many examples extant, both in the Greek and Roman stories, of those who have borne the death of their relations not only with decency but courage, I think these that I have related to be a sufficient motive to thee to keep tormenting grief at a distance, and so ease thyself of that labor which hath no profit in it and is all in vain. 

34  For that virtuous men die in the prime of their years by the kindness of the Gods, to whom they are peculiarly dear, I have already told thee in the former part of my discourse, and will give a short hint of it now, bearing witness to that which is so prettily said by Menander: He whom the Gods do love dies young. But perhaps, my dear Apollonius, thou wilt thus object to me: My young Apollonius was blessed by fortune in his life, and I ought first to have died that he might bury me; for this is according to nature. According to our human nature, I confess; but Providence hath other measures, and that supreme order which governs the world is very different; for thy son being now made happy, it was not requisite according to nature that he should tarry in this life longer than the time prefixed him, but that, having consummated the term of his duration, he should perform his fatal journey, Nature recalling him to herself. But he died untimely, you may say. Upon that account he is the happier, not having been sensible of those evils which are incident to life. For Euripides said truly: The time of being here we style amiss; We call it life, but truly labor 'tis. Thy Apollonius died in the beautiful flower of his years, a youth in all points perfect, who gained the love, and provoked the emulation of all his contemporaries He was dutiful to his father and mother, obliging to his domestics, was a scholar, and (to comprehend all in a word) he was a lover of mankind. He had a veneration for the old men that were his friends, as if they had been his parents, had an affection for his companions and equals, reverenced his instructors, was hospitable and mild to his guests and strangers, gracious to all, and beloved by all, as well for his attractive countenance as for his lovely affability. Therefore, being accompanied with the applauses of thy piety and his own, he hath only made a digression from this mortal life to eternity, as if he had withdrawn from the entertainment before he grew absurd, and before the staggerings of drunkenness came upon him, which are incident to a long old age. Now if the sayings of the old philosophers and poets are true, as there is probability to think, that honors and high seats of dignity are conferred upon the righteous after they are departed this life, and if, as it is said, a particular region is appointed for their souls to dwell in, you ought to cherish very fair hopes that your son stands numbered amongst those blest inhabitants. 

35  Of the state of the pious after death, Pindar discourseth after this manner: There the sun shines with an unsullied light, When all the world below is thick with night. There all the richly scented plants do grow, And there the crimson-colored roses blow; Each flower blooming on its tender stalk, And all these meadows are their evening walk. There trees peculiarly delight the sense, With their exhaled perfumes of frankincense. The boughs their noble burdens cannot hold, The weight must sink them when the fruit is gold. Some do the horse unto the manege bring, Others unto the tuneful lute do sing; There's plenty to excess of every thing. The region always doth serene appear, The sun and pious flames do make it clear, Where fragrant gums do from the altars rise, When to the Gods they offer sacrifice. And proceeding farther, in another lamentation he spake thus concerning the soul: Just we that distribution may call, Which to each man impartially doth fall. It doth decide the dull contentious strife, And easeth the calamities of life. Death doth its efforts on the body spend; But the aspiring soul doth upwards tend. Nothing can damp that bright and subtile flame, Immortal as the Gods from whence it came. But this sometimes a drowsy nap will take, When all the other members are awake. Fancy in various dreams doth to it show, What punishments unto each crime is due; What pleasures are reserved for pious deeds, And with what scourges the incestuous bleeds. 

36  Divine Plato hath spoken many things of the immortality of the soul in that book which he calls his Phaedo; not a few in his Republic, his Menon, and his Gorgias; and hath some scattered expressions in the rest of his dialogues. The things which are written by him in his Dialogue concerning the Soul I will send you by themselves, illustrated with my commentaries upon them, according to your request. I will now only quote those which are opportune and to the present purpose, and they are the words of Socrates to Callicles the Athenian, who was the companion and scholar of Gorgias the rhetorician. For so saith Socrates in Plato: "Hear then," saith he, "a most elegant story, which you, I fancy, will think to be a fable, but I take it to be a truth, for the things which I shall tell you have nothing but reality in them. Zeus, Poseidon, and Pluto, as Homer tells us, divided amongst themselves the kingdom which they received by inheritance from their father; but there was a law established concerning men in the reign of Saturn, which was then valid and still remains in force amongst the Gods, that that mortal which had led a just and pious life should go, when he died, into the fortunate islands of the blest, and there dwell in happiness, free from all misery; but he that had lived impiously and in contempt of the Gods should be shackled with vengeance, and be thrust into that prison which they call Tartarus. In the time of Saturn, and in the first beginning of Zeus's empire, the living judged the living, and that the same day that they were to die; whereupon the decisions of the bench were not rightly managed. Therefore Pluto and his curators under him came out of these fortunate islands, and complained to Zeus that men were sent to both places who were not worthy. I, saith Zeus, will take care that this thing be not practised for the future; for the reason that the sentences are now unjustly passed is that the guilty come clothed to the tribunal, and whilst they are yet alive. For some of profligate dispositions are yet palliated with a beautiful outside, with riches, and titles of nobility; and so when they come to be arraigned, many will offer themselves as witnesses to swear that they have lived very pious lives. The judges are dazzled with these appearances, and they sit upon them too in their robes; so that their minds are (as it were) covered and obscured with eyes and ears, and indeed with the encumbrance of the whole body. The judges and the prisoners being clothed is thus a very great impediment. Therefore in the first place the foreknowledge of death is to be taken away; for now they see the end of their line, and Prometheus has been commanded to see that this be no longer allowed. Next they ought to be divested of all dress and ornament, and come dead to the tribunal. The judge himself is to be naked and dead too, that with his own soul he may view the naked soul of each one so soon as he is dead, when he is now forsaken of his relations, and has left behind him all his gayeties in the other world; and so justice will be impartially pronounced. Deliberating on this with myself before I received your advice, I have constituted my sons judges, Minos and Rhadamanthus from Asia, and Aeacus from Europe; these therefore, after they have departed this life, shall assume their character, and exercise it in the field, and in the road where two ways divide themselves, the one leading to the fortunate islands, and the other to the deep abyss; so Rhadamanthus shall judge the Asians, and Aeacus the Europeans. But to Minos I will grant the authority of a final appeal, that if any thing hath escaped the notice of the others, it shall be subjected to his cognizance, as to the last resort of a supreme judge; that so it may be rightly decided what journey every one ought to take. These are the things, Callicles, which I have heard and think to be true; and I draw this rational inference from them, that death in my opinion is nothing else but the separation of two things nearly united, which are soul and body."" 

37  These collections, my dear Apollonius, I have joined together with all the accuracy I could, and out of them composed this consolatory letter I now send thee, which is very necessary to dispel thy melancholy humor and put a period to thy sighs. I have paid likewise that deference which became me to the ashes of thy son, who is the darling of the Gods, such an honor being most acceptable to those whom fame hath consecrated to immortality. Thou wilt therefore do handsomely to believe the reasons I have urged to thee, and gratify thy deceased son, by shaking off this unprofitable sorrow, which eats into thy mind and afflicts thy body, and again returning to that course of humor which nature hath chalked out and the former customs of thy life have made familiar to thee. For as, when thy son lived amongst us, he could not without the deepest regret see thee or his mother sad, so now that he is amongst the Gods enjoying the intimacy of their conversation, such a prospect from thence must be much more displeasing. Therefore take up the resolutions of a good and generous man and of one who loved his son, and so extricate thyself, the mother of the lad, thy kinsmen and friends at once from this great infelicity. Betake thyself to a more tranquil sort of life; which, as it will be acceptable to thy son, will also be extremely pleasing to all of us who have that concern for thee that we ought to have.

1 And you, Zeuxippus, diverted Glaucus the physician from entering into a philosophical discourse with you yesterday. Zeuxippus. I did not hinder him in the least, friend Moschio, it was he that would not discourse in philosophy. But I feared and avoided giving so contentious a man any opportunity of discourse; for though in physic the man has (as Homer expresses it) an excellency before most of his profession, yet in philosophy he is not altogether so candid, but indeed so rude in all his disputations, that he is hardly to be borne with, flying (as it were) at us open mouthed. So that it is neither an easy nor indeed a just thing, that we should bear those confusions in terms he makes, when we are disputing about a wholesome diet. Besides, he maintains that the bounds of philosophy and medicine are as distinct as those of the Mysians and Phrygians. And taking hold of some of those things we were discoursing of, perhaps not with all exactness, yet not without some profit, he made scurrilous reflections on them. 
MOSCHIO: But I am ready, Zeuxippus, to hear those and the other things you shall discourse of, with a great deal of pleasure. 

2  ZEUXIPPUS: You have naturally a philosophical genius, Moschio, and are troubled to see a philosopher have no kindness for the study of medicine. You are uneasy that he should think it concerns him more to study geometry, logic, and music, than to be desirous to understand What in his house is well or ill-designed," his house being his own body. You shall see many spectators at that play where their charges are defrayed out of the public stock, as they do at Athens. Now among all the liberal arts, medicine not only contains so neat and large a field of pleasure as to give place to none, but she pays plentifully the charges of those who delight in the study of her by giving them health and safety; so that it ought not to be called transgressing the bounds of a philosopher to dispute about those things which relate to health, but rather, all bounds being laid aside, we ought to pursue our studies in the same common field, and so enjoy both the pleasure and the profit of them. 
MOSCHIO: But to pass by Glaucus, who with his pretended gravity would be thought to be so perfect as not to stand in need of philosophy, — do you, if you please, run through the whole discourse, and first, those things which you say were not so exactly handled and which Glaucus carped at. A friend of ours then heard one alleging that to keep one's hands always warm and never suffer them to be cold did not a little conduce to health; and, on the contrary, keeping the extreme parts of the body cold drives the heat inward, so that you are always in a fever or the fear of one. But those things which force the heat outwards do distribute and draw the matter to all parts, with advantage to our health. If in any work we employ our hands, we are able to keep in them that heat which is induced by their motion. But when we do not work with our hands, we should take all care to keep our extreme parts from cold. 

3  This was one of those things he ridiculed. The second, as I remember, was touching the food allowed the sick, which he advises us sometimes both to touch and taste when we are in good health, that so we may be used to it, and not be shy of it, like little children, or hate such a diet, but by degrees make it natural and familiar to our appetite; that in our sickness we may not nauseate wholesome diet, as if it were physic, nor be uneasy when we are prescribed any insipid thing, that lacks both the smell and taste of a kitchen. Wherefore we need not squeamishly refuse to eat before we wash, or to drink water when we may have wine, or to take warm drink in summer when there is snow at hand. We must, however, lay aside all foppish ostentation and sophistry as well as vain-glory in this abstinence, and quietly by ourselves accustom our appetite to obey reason with willingness, that thus we may wean our minds long beforehand from that dainty contempt of such food which we feel in time of sickness, and that we may not then effeminately bewail our condition, as if we were fallen from great and beloved pleasures into a low and sordid diet. It was well said, Choose out the best condition you can, and custom will make it pleasant to you. And this will be beneficial in most things we undertake, but more especially as to diet; if, in the height of our health, we introduce a custom whereby those things may be rendered easy, familiar, and, as it were, domestics of our bodies, remembering what some suffer and do in sickness, who fret, and are not able to endure warm water or gruel or bread when it is brought to them, calling them dirty and unseemly things, and the persons who would urge them to them base and troublesome. The bath hath destroyed many whose distemper at the beginning was not very bad, only because they could not endure to eat before they washed; among whom Titus the emperor was one, as his physicians affirm. 

4  This also was said, that a thin diet is the healthfulest to the body. But we ought chiefly to avoid all excess in meat or drink or pleasure, when there is any feast or entertainment at hand, or when we expect any royal or princely banquet, or solemnity which we cannot possibly avoid; then ought the body to be light and in readiness to receive the winds and waves it is to meet with. It is a hard matter for a man at a feast or collation to keep that mediocrity or bounds he has been used to, so as not to seem rude, precise, or troublesome to the rest of the company. Lest we should add fire to fire, as the proverb is, or one debauch or excess to another, we should take care to imitate that ingenious droll of Philip, which was this. He was invited to supper by a countryman, who supposed he would bring but few friends with him; but when he saw him bring a great many, there not being much provided, he was much concerned at it: which when Philip perceived, he sent privately to every one of his friends, that they should leave a corner for cake; they believing this and still expecting, ate so sparingly that there was supper enough for them all. So we ought beforehand to prepare ourselves against all unavoidable invitations, that there may be room left in our body, not only for the meal and the dessert, but for drunkenness itself, by bringing in a fresh and a willing appetite along with us. 

5  But if such a necessity should surprise you when you are already loaded or indisposed, in the presence either of persons of quality or of strangers that come in upon you unawares, and you cannot for shame but go and drink with them that are ready for that purpose, then you ought to arm yourself against that modesty and prejudicial shamefacedness with that of Creon in the tragedy, who says: 'Tis better, sirs, I should you now displease, Than by complying next day lose my ease." He who throws himself into a pleurisy or frenzy, to avoid being censured as an uncivil person, is certainly no well-bred man, nor has he sense of understanding enough to converse with men, unless in a tavern or a cook-shop. Whereas an excuse ingeniously and dexterously made is no less acceptable than compliance. He that makes a feast, though he be as unwilling to taste of it himself as if it was a sacrifice, yet if he be merry and jocund over his glass at table, jesting and drolling upon himself, seems better company than they who are drunk and gluttonized together. Among the ancients, he made mention of Alexander, who after hard drinking was ashamed to resist the importunity of Medius, who invited him afresh to the drinking of wine, of which he died; and of our time, of Regulus the wrestler, who, being called by break of day by Titus Caesar to the bath, went and washed with him, and drinking but once (as they say) was seized with an apoplexy, and died immediately. These things Glaucus in laughter objected to as pedantic. He was not over-fond of hearing farther, nor indeed were we of discoursing more. But do you give heed to every thing that was said. 

6  First, Socrates advises us to beware of such meats as persuade a man to eat them though he be not hungry, and of those drinks that would prevail with a man to drink them when he is not thirsty. Not that he absolutely forbade us the use of them; but he taught that we might use them where there was occasion for it, suiting the pleasure of them to our necessity, as cities converted the money which was designed for the festivals into a supply for war. For that which is agreeable by nature, so long as it is a part of our nourishment, is proper for us. He that is hungry should eat necessary food and find it pleasant; but when he is freed from his common appetite, he ought not to raise up a fresh one. For, as dancing was no unpleasant exercise to Socrates himself, so he that can make his meal of sweetmeats or a second course receives the less damage. But he that has taken already what may sufficiently satisfy his nature ought by all means to avoid them. And concerning these things, indecorum and ambition are no less to be avoided than the love of pleasure or gluttony. For these often persuade men to eat without hunger or drink without thirst, possessing them with base and troublesome fancies, as if it were indecent not to taste of every thing which is either a rarity or of great price, as udder, Italian mushrooms, Samian cakes, or snow in Egypt. Again, these often incite men to eat things rare and much talked of, they being led to it, as it were, by the scent of vain-glory, and making their bodies to partake of them without any necessity of it, that they may have something to tell others, who shall admire their having eaten such rare and superfluous things. And thus it is with them in relation to fine women; when they are in bed with their own wives, however beautiful and loving they may be, they are no way concerned; but on Phryne or Lais they bestow their money, inciting an infirm and unfit body, and provoking it to intemperate pleasures, and all this out of a vain-glorious humor. Phryne herself said in her old age, that she sold her lees and dregs the dearer because she had been in such repute when she was young. 

7  It is indeed a great and miraculous thing that, if we allow the body all the pleasures which nature needs and can bear, — or rather, if we struggle against its appetites on most occasions and put it off, and are at last brought with difficulty to yield to its necessities, or (as Plato saith) give way when it bites and strains itself, — after all we should come off without harm. But, on the other hand, those desires which descend from the mind into the body, and urge and force it to obey and accompany them in all their motions and affections, must of necessity leave behind them the greatest and severest ills, as the effects of such infirm and dark delights. The desire of our mind ought no ways to incite our bodies to any pleasure, for the beginning of this is against nature. And as the tickling of one's armpits forces a laughter, which is neither moderate nor merry, nor indeed properly a laughter, but rather troublesome and like convulsions; so those pleasures which the molested and disturbed body receives from the mind are furious, troublesome, and wholly strangers to nature. Therefore when any rare or noble dish is before you, you will get more honor by refraining from it than partaking of it. Remember what Simonides said, that he never repented that he had held his tongue, but often that he had spoken; so we shall not repent that we have refused a good dish or drunk water instead of Falernian, but the contrary. We are not only to commit no violence on Nature; but when any of those things are offered to her, even if she has a desire for them, we ought oftentimes to direct the appetite to a more innocent and accustomed diet, that she may be used to it and acquainted with it; for as the Theban said (though not over honestly), If the law must be violated, it looks best when it is done for an empire. But we say better, if we are to take pride in any such thing, it is best when it is in that moderation which conduces to our health. But a narrowness of soul and a stingy humor compel some men to keep under and defraud their genius at home, who, when they enjoy the costly fare of another man's table, do cram themselves as eagerly as if it were all plunder; then they are taken ill, go home, and the next day find the crudity of their stomachs the reward of their unsatiableness. Wherefore Crates, supposing that luxury and prodigality were the chief cause of seditions and insurrections in a city, in a droll advises that we should never go beyond a lentil in our meals, lest we bring ourselves into sedition. But let every one exhort himself not to increase his meal beyond a lentil, and not to pass by cresses and olives and fall upon pudding and fish, that he may not by his over-eating bring his body into tumults, disturbances, and diarrhoeas; for a mean diet keeps the appetite within its natural bounds, but the arts of cooks and confectioners, with their elaborate dishes and aromatic sauces, do (according to the comedian) push forward and enlarge the bounds of pleasure, and entrench upon those of our profit. I know not how it comes to pass that we should abominate and hate those women that either bewitch or give philters to their husbands, and yet give our meat and drink to our slaves and hirelings, to all but corrupt and poison them. For though that may seem too severe which was said by Arcesilaus against lascivious and adulterous persons, that it signifies little which way one goes about such beastly work; yet it is not much from our purpose. For what difference is there (to speak ingenuously) whether satyrion moves and whets my lust, or my taste is irritated by the scent of the meat or the sauce, so that, like a part infected with itch, it shall always need scratching and tickling? 

8  But we shall perhaps discourse against pleasures in another place, and show the beauty and dignity that temperance has within itself; but our present discourse is in praise of many and great pleasures. For diseases do not either rob or spoil us of so much business, hope, journeys, or exercise, as they do of pleasure; so that it is no way convenient for those who would follow their pleasure to neglect their health. There are diseases which will permit a man to study philosophy and to exercise any military office, nay, to act the kingly part. But the pleasures and enjoyments of the body are such as cannot be born alive in the midst of a distemper or if they are, the pleasures they afford are not only short and impure, but mixed with much alloy, and they bear the marks of that storm and tempest out of which they rise. Aphrodite herself delights not in a gorged, but in a calm and serene body; and pleasure is the end of that, as well as it is of meat and drink. Health is to pleasure as still weather to the halcyon, giving it a safe and commodious birth and nest. Prodicus seems elegantly enough to have said, that of all sauces fire was the best; but most true it is to say, that health gives things the most divine and grateful relish. For meat, whether it be boiled, roasted, or stewed, has no pleasure or gusto in it to a sick, surfeited, or nauseous stomach. But a clean and undebauched appetite renders every thing sweet and delightful to a sound body, and (as Homerexpresses it) devourable. 

9  As Demades told the Athenians, who unseasonably made war, that they never treated of peace but in mourning, so we never think of a moderate and slender diet but when we are in a fever or under a course of physic. But when we are in these extremities, we diligently conceal our enormities, though we remember them well enough; yet as many do, we lay the blame of our illness now upon the air, now upon the unhealthfulness of the place or the length of a journey, to take it off from that intemperance and luxury which was the cause of it. As Lysimachus, when he was among the Scythians and constrained by his thirst, delivered up himself and his army into captivity, but afterwards, drinking cold water, cried out, O ye Gods! for how short a pleasure have I thrown away a great felicity! — so in our sickness, we ought to consider with ourselves that, for the sake of a draught of cold water, an unseasonable bath, or good company, we spoil many of our delights as well as our honorable business, and lose many pleasant diversions. The remorse that arises from these considerations wounds the conscience, and sticks to us in our health like a scar, to make us more cautious as to our diet. For a healthful body does not breed any enormous appetite, or such as we cannot prevail with or overcome. But we ought to put on resolution against our extravagant desires or efforts towards enjoyment, esteeming it a low and childish thing to give ear to their complaints and murmurings; for they cease as soon as the cloth is taken away, and will neither accuse you of injustice, nor think you have done them wrong; but on the contrary, you will find them the next day pure and brisk, no way clogged or nauseating. As Timotheus said, when he had a light philosophic dinner the other day with Plato in the Academy, They who dine with Plato never complain the next morning. It is reported that Alexander said, when he had turned off his usual cooks, that he carried always better with him; for his journeys by night recommended his dinner to him, and the slenderness of his dinner recommended his supper. 

10  I am not ignorant that fevers seize men upon a fatigue or excess of heat or cold. But as the scent of flowers, which in itself is but faint, if mixed with oil is more strong and fragrant; so an inward fulness gives, as it were, a body and substance to external causes and beginnings of sickness. For without this they could do no hurt, but would vanish and fade away if there were lowness of blood and pureness of spirit to receive the motion, which in fulness and superabundance, as in disturbed mud, makes all things polluted, troublesome, and hardly recoverable. We ought not to imitate the good mariner who out of covetousness loads his ship hard and afterwards labors hard to throw out the salt water, by first clogging and overcharging our bodies and endeavoring afterwards to clear them by purges and clysters; but we ought to keep our bodies in right order, that if at any time they should be oppressed, their lightness may keep them up like a cork. 

11  We ought chiefly to be careful in all predispositions and forewarnings of sickness. For all distempers do not invade us, as Hesiod expresses it: In silence, — for the Gods have struck them dumb;" but the most of them have ill digestion and a kind of a laziness, which are the forerunners and harbingers that give us warning. Sudden heaviness and weariness tell us a distemper is not far off, as Hippocrates affirms, by reason (it seems) of that fulness which doth oppress and load the spirit in the nerves. Some men, when their bodies all but contradict them and invite them to a couch and repose, through gluttony and love of pleasure throw themselves into a bath or make haste to some drinking meeting, as if they were laying in for a siege; being mightily in fear lest the fever should seize them before they have dined. Those who pretend to more elegance are not caught in this manner, but foolishly enough; for, being ashamed to own their qualms and debauch or to keep house all day, when others call them to go with them to the gymnasium, they arise and pull off their clothes with them, doing the same things which they do that are in health. Intemperance and effeminacy make many fly for patronage to the proverb, Wine is best after wine, and one debauch is the way to drive out another. This excites their hopes, and persuades and urges them to rise from their beds and rashly to fall to their wonted excesses. Against which hope he ought to set that prudent advice of Cato, when he says that great things ought to be made less, and the lesser to be quite left off; and that it is better to abstain to no purpose and be at quiet, than to run ourselves into hazard by forcing ourselves either to bath or dinner. For if there be any ill in it, it is an injury to us that we did not watch over ourselves and refrain; but if there be none, it is no inconvenience to your body to have abstained and be made more pure by it. He is but a child who is afraid lest his friends and servants should perceive that he is sick either of a surfeit or a debauch. He that is ashamed to confess the crudity of his stomach today will tomorrow with shame confess that he has either a diarrhoea, a fever, or the griping in the guts. You think it is a disgrace to want, but it is a greater disgrace to bear the crudity, heaviness, and fulness of your body, when it has to be carried into the bath, like a rotten and leaky boat into the sea. As some seamen are ashamed to live on shore when there is a storm at sea, yet when they are at sea lie shamefully crying and retching to vomit; so in any suspicion or tendency of the body to any disease, they think it an indecorum to keep their bed one day and not to have their table spread, yet most shamefully for many days together are forced to be purged and plastered, flattering and obeying their physicians, asking for wine or cold water, being forced to do and say many unseasonable and absurd things, by reason of the pain and fear they are in. Those therefore who cannot govern themselves on account of pleasures, but yield to their lusts and are carried away by them, may opportunely be taught and put in mind that they receive the greatest share of their pleasures from their bodies. 

12  And as the Spartans gave the cook vinegar and salt, and bade him look for the rest in the victim, so in our bodies, the best sauce to whatsoever is brought before us is that our bodies are pure and in health. For any thing that is sweet or costly is so in its own nature and apart from any thing else; but it becomes sweet to the taste only when it is in a body which is delighted with it and which is disposed as nature doth require. But in those bodies which are foul, surfeited, and not pleased with it, it loses its beauty and convenience. Wherefore we need not be concerned whether fish be fresh or bread fine, or whether the bath be warm or your she-friend a beauty; but whether you are not squeamish and foul, whether you are not disturbed and do not feel the dregs of yesterday's debauch. Otherwise it will be as when some drunken revellers break into a house where they are mourning, bringing neither mirth nor pleasure with them, but increasing the lamentation. So Aphrodite, meats, baths, and wines, in a body that is crazy and out of order, mingled with what is vitiated and corrupted, stir up phlegm and choler, and create great trouble; neither do they bring any pleasure that is answerable to their expectations, or worth either enjoying or speaking of. 

13  A diet which is very exact and precisely according to rule puts one's body both in fear and danger; it hinders the gallantry of our soul itself, makes it suspicious of every thing or of having to do with any thing, no less in pleasures than in labors; so that it dares not undertake any thing boldly and courageously. We ought to do by our body as by the sail of a ship in fair and clear weather: — we must not contract it and draw it in too much, nor be too remiss or negligent about it when we have any suspicion upon us, but give it some allowance and make it pliable (as we have said), and not wait for crudities and diarrhoeas, or heat or drowsiness, by which some, as by messengers and apparitors, are frighted and moderate themselves when a fever is at hand; but we must long beforehand guard against the storm, as if the north wind blew at sea. 

14  It is absurd, as Democritus says, by the croaking of ravens, the crowing of a cock, or the wallowing of a sowin the mire, carefully to observe the signs of windy or rainy weather, and not to prevent and guard ourselves against the motions and fluctuations of our bodies or the indication of a distemper, nor to understand the signs of a storm which is just ready to break forth within ourselves. So that we are not only to observe our bodies as to meat and exercise, whether they use them more sluggishly or unwillingly than they were wont; or whether we be more thirsty and hungry than we use to be; but we are also to take care as to our sleep, whether it be continued and easy, or whether it be irregular and convulsive. For absurd dreams and irregular and unusual fantasies show either abundance or thickness of humors, or else a disturbance of the spirits within. For the motions of the soul show that the body is nigh a distemper. For there are despondencies of mind and fears that are without reason or any apparent cause, which extinguish our hopes on a sudden. Some there are that are sharp and prone to anger, whom a little thing makes sad; and these cry and are in great trouble when ill vapors and fumes meet together and (as Plato says) are intermingled in the ways and passages of the soul. Wherefore those to whom such things happen must consider and remember, that even if there be nothing spiritual, there is some bodily cause which needs to be brought away and purged. 

15  Besides, it is profitable for him who visits his friends in their sickness to enquire after the causes of it. Let us not sophistically or impertinently discourse about lodgements, irruptions of blood, and commonplaces, merely to show our skill in the terms of art which are used in medicine. But when we have with diligence heard such trivial and common things discoursed of as fulness or emptiness, weariness, lack of sleep, and (above all) the diet which the patient kept before he fell sick, then, — as Plato used to ask himself, after the miscarriage of other men he had been with, Am not I also such a one? — so ought we to take care by our neighbor's misfortunes, and diligently to beware that we do not fall into them, and afterwards cry out upon our sick-bed, How precious above all other things is health! When another is in sickness, let it teach us how valuable a treasure health is, which we ought to keep and preserve with all possible care. Neither will it be amiss for every man to look into his own diet. If therefore we have been eating, drinking, laboring, or doing any thing to excess, and our bodies give us no suspicion or hint of a distemper, yet ought we nevertheless to stand upon our guard and take care of ourselves, — if it be after venery and labor, by giving of ourselves rest and quiet; if after drinking of wine and feasting, by drinking of water; but especially, after we have fed on flesh or solid meats or eaten divers things, by abstinence, that we may leave no superfluity in our bodies; for these very things, as they are the cause of many diseases, likewise administer matter and force to other causes. Wherefore it was very well said, that to eat — but not to satiety, to labor — but not to weariness, and to keep in nature, are of all things the most healthful. For intemperance in venery takes away that by which vigor our nourishment is elaborated, and causes more superfluity and redundance. 

16  But we shall begin and treat of each of these, and first we shall discourse of those exercises which are proper for a scholar. And as he that said he should prescribe nothing for the teeth to them that dwelt by the seaside taught them the benefit of the sea-water, so one would think that there was no need of writing to scholars concerning exercise. For it is wonderful what an exercise the daily use of speech is, not only as to health but even to strength. I mean not fleshly and athletic health, or such as makes one's external parts firm, like the outside of a house, but such as gives a right tone and inward vigor to the vital and noble parts. And that the vital spirit increases strength is made plain by them who anointed the wrestlers, who commanded them, when their limbs were rubbed, to withstand such frictions in some sort, in holding their wind, observing carefully those parts of the body which were smeared and rubbed. Now the voice, being a motion of the spirit, not superficially but firmly seated in the bowels, as it were in a fountain, increases the heat, thins the blood, purges every vein, opens all the arteries, neither does it permit the coagulation or condensation of any superfluous humor, which would settle like dregs in those vessels which receive and work our nourishment. Wherefore we ought by much speaking to accustom ourselves to this exercise, and make it familiar to us; and if we suspect that our bodies are weaker or more tired than ordinary, by reading or reciting. For what riding in a coach is compared with bodily exercise, that is reading compared with disputing, if you carry your voice softly and low, as it were in the chariot of another man's words. For disputes bring with them a vehemence and contention, adding the labor of the mind to that of the body. All passionate noise, and such as would force our lungs, ought to be avoided; for irregular and violent strains of our voice may break something within us, or bring us into convulsions. But when a student has either read or disputed, before he walks abroad, he ought to make use of a gentle and tepid friction, to open the pores of his body, as much as is possible, even to his very bowels, that so his spirits may gently and quietly diffuse themselves to the extreme parts of his body. The bounds that this friction ought not to exceed are, that it be done no longer than it is pleasant to our sense and without pain. For he that so allays the disturbance which is within himself and the agitation of his spirits will not be troubled by that superfluity which remains in him; and if it be unseasonable for to walk, or if his business hinder him, it is no great matter; for nature has already received satisfaction. Whether one be at sea or in a public inn, it is not necessary that he should be silent, though all the company laugh at him. For where it is no shame to eat, it is certainly no shame to exercise yourself; but it is worse to stand in awe of and be troubled with seamen, carriers, and innkeepers, that laugh at you not because you play at ball or fight a shadow, but because in your discourse you exercise yourself by teaching others, or by enquiring and learning something yourself, or else by calling to mind something. For Socrates said, he that uses the exercise of dancing had need have a room big enough to hold seven beds; but he that makes either singing or discourse his exercise may do it either standing or lying in any place. But this one thing we must observe, that when we are conscious to ourselves that we are too full, or have been concerned with Aphrodite, or labored hard, we do not too much strain our voice, as so many rhetoricians and readers in philosophy do, some of whom out of glory and ambition, some for reward or private contentions, have forced themselves beyond what has been convenient. Our Niger, when he was teaching philosophy in Galatia, by chance swallowed the bone of a fish; but a stranger coming to teach in his place, Niger, fearing he might run away with his repute, continued to read his lectures, though the bone still stuck in his throat; from whence a great and hard inflammation arising, he, being unable to undergo the pain, permitted a deep incision to be made, by which wound the bone was taken out; but the wound growing worse, and rheum falling upon it, it killed him. But this may be mentioned hereafter in its proper place. 

17  After exercise to use a cold bath is boyish, and has more ostentation in it than health; for though it may seem to harden our bodies and make them not so subject to outward accidents, yet it does more prejudice to the inward parts, by hindering transpiration, fixing the humors, and condensing those vapors which love freedom and transpiration. Besides, necessity will force those who use cold baths into that exact and accurate way of diet they would so much avoid, and make them take care they be not in the least extravagant, for every such error is sure to receive a bitter reproof. But a warm bath is much more pardonable, for it does not so much destroy our natural vigor and strength as it does conduce to our health, laying a soft and easy foundation for concoction, preparing those things for digestion which are not easily digested without any pain (if they be not very crude and deep lodged), and freeing us from all inward weariness. But when we do sensibly perceive our bodies to be indifferent well, or as they ought to be, we should omit bathing, and anoint ourselves by the fire; which is better if the body stand in need of heat, for it dispenses a warmth throughout. But we should make use of the sun more or less, as the temper of the air permits. So much may suffice to have been said concerning exercises. 

18  As for what has been said of diet before, if any part of it be profitable in instructing us how we should allay and bring down our appetites, there yet remains one thing more to be advised: that if it be troublesome to treat one's belly like one broke loose, and to contend with it though it has no ears (as Cato said), then ought we to take care that the quality of what we eat may make the quantity more light; and we should eat cautiously of such food as is solid and most nourishing (for it is hard always to refuse it), such as flesh, cheese, dried figs, and boiled eggs; but more freely of those things which are thin and light, such as moist herbs, fowl, and fish if it be not too fat; for he that eats such things as these may gratify his appetite, and yet not oppress his body. But ill digestion is chiefly to be feared after flesh, for it presently very much clogs us and leaves ill relics behind it. It would be best to accustom one's self to eat no flesh at all, for the earth affords plenty enough of things fit not only for nourishment, but for delight and enjoyment; some of which you may eat without much preparation, and others you may make pleasant by adding divers other things to them. But since custom is almost a second nature, we may eat flesh, but not to the cloying of our appetites, like wolves or lions, but only to lay as it were a foundation and bulwark for our nourishment, — and then come to other meats and sauces which are more agreeable to the nature of our bodies and do less dull our rational soul, which seems to be enlivened by a light and brisk diet. 

19  As for liquids, we should never make milk our drink, but rather take it as food, it yielding much solid nourishment. As for wine, we must say to it what Euripides said to Aphrodite: Thy joys with moderation I would have, And that I ne'er may want them humbly crave. For wine is the most beneficial of all drinks, the pleasantest medicine in the world, and of all dainties the least cloying to the appetite, provided more regard be given to the opportunity of the time of drinking it than even to its being properly mixed with water. Water, not only when it is mixed with wine, but also if it be drunk by itself between mixed wine and water, makes the mingled wine the less hurtful. We should accustom ourselves therefore in our daily diet to drink two or three glasses of water, which will allay the strength of the wine, and make drinking of water familiar to our body, that so in a case of necessity it may not be looked on as a stranger, and we be offended at it. It so falls out, that some have then the greatest inclination for wine when there is most need they should drink water; for such men, when they have been exposed to great heat of the sun, or have fallen into a chill, or have been speaking vehemently, or have been more than ordinarily thoughtful about any thing, or after any fatigue or labor, are of the opinion that they ought to drink wine, as if nature required some repose for the body and some diversion after its labors. But nature requires no such repose (if you will call pleasure repose), but desires only such an alteration as shall be between pleasure and pain; in which case we ought to abate of our diet, and either wholly abstain from wine, or drink it allayed with very much mixture of water. For wine, being sharp and fiery, increases the disturbances of the body, exasperates them, and wounds the parts affected; which stand more in need of being comforted and smoothed, which water does the best of any thing. If, when we are not thirsty, we drink warm water after labor, exercise, or heat, we find our inward parts loosened and smoothed by it; for the moisture of water is gentle and not violent, but that of wine carries a great force in it, which is no ways agreeable in the fore-mentioned cases. And if any one should be afraid that abstinence would bring upon the body that acrimony and bitterness which some say it will, he is like those children who think themselves much wronged because they may not eat just before the fit of a fever. The best mean between both these is drinking of water. We oftentimes sacrifice to Dionysos himself without wine, doing very well in accustoming ourselves not to be always desirous of wine. Minos made the pipe and the crown be laid aside at the sacrifice when there was mourning. And yet we know an afflicted mind is not at all affected by either the pipe or crown; but there is no body so strong, to which, in commotion or a fever, wine does not do a great deal of injury. 

20  The Lydians are reported in a famine to have spent one day in eating, and the next in sports and drollery. But a lover of learning and a friend to the Muses, when at any time he is forced to sup later than ordinary, will not be so much a slave to his belly as to lay aside a geographical scheme when it is before him, or his book, or his lyre; but strenuously turning himself, and taking his mind off from eating, he will in the Muses' name drive away all such desires, as so many Harpies, from his table. Will not the Scythian in the midst of his cups oftentimes handle his bow and twang the string, thereby rousing up himself from that drunkenness in which he was immersed? Will a Greek be afraid, because he is laughed at, by books and letters gently to loosen and unbend any blind and obstinate desire? The young men in Menander, when they were drinking, were trepanned by a bawd, which brought in to them a company of handsome and richly attired women; but every one, as he said, Cast down his eyes and fell to junketing: not one daring to look upon them. Lovers of learning have many fair and pleasant diversions, if they can no other way keep in their canine and brutish appetites when they see the table spread. The bawling of such fellows as anoint wrestlers, and the opinion of pedagogues that it hinders our nourishment and dulls one's head to discourse of learning at table, are indeed of some force then, when we are called upon to solve a fallacy like the Indus or to dispute about the Kyrieuon at a feast. For though the pith of the palm-tree is very sweet, yet they say it will cause the headache. To discourse of logic at meals is not indeed a very delicious banquet, is rather troublesome, and pains one's head; but if there be any who will not give us leave to discourse philosophically or ask any question or read any thing at table, though it be of those things which are not only decent and profitable but also pleasantly merry, we will desire them not to trouble us, but to talk in this style to the athletes in the Xystum and the Palaestra, who have laid aside their books and are wont to spend their whole time in jeers and scurrilous jests, being, as Aristo wittily expresses it, smooth and hard, like the pillars in the gymnasium. But we must obey our physicians, who advise us to keep some interval between supper and sleep, and not to heap up together a great deal of victuals in our stomachs and so shorten our breath (lest we presently by crude and fermenting aliment overcharge our digestion), but rather to take some space and breathing-time before we sleep. As those who have a mind to exercise themselves after supper do not do it by running or wrestling, but rather by gentle exercise, such as walking or dancing; so when we intend to exercise our minds after supper, we are not to do it with any thing of business or care, or with those sophistical disputes which bring us into a vain-glorious and violent contention. But there are many questions in natural philosophy which are easy to discuss and to decide; there are many disquisitions which relate to manners, which please the mind (as Homer expresses it) and do no way discompose it. Questions in history and poetry have been by some ingeniously called a second course to a learned man and a scholar. There are discourses which are no way troublesome; and, besides, fables may be told. Nay, it is easier to discourse of the pipe and lyre, or hear them discoursed of, than it is to hear either of them played on. The quantity of time allowed for this exercise is till our meat be gently settled within us, so that our digestion may have power enough to master it. 

21  Aristotle is of opinion that to walk after supper stirs up our natural heat; but to sleep, if it be soon after, chokes it. Others again say that rest aids digestion, and that motion disturbs it. Hence some walk immediately after supper; others choose rather to keep themselves still. But that man seems to obtain the design of both, who cherishes and keeps his body quiet, not immediately suffering his mind to become heavy and idle, but (as has been said) gently distributing and lightening his spirits by either hearing or speaking some pleasant thing, such as will neither molest nor oppress him. 

22  Medicinal vomits and purges, which are the bitter reliefs of gluttony, are not to be attempted without great necessity. The manner of many is to fill themselves because they are empty, and again, because they are full, to empty themselves contrary to nature, being no less tormented with being full than being empty; or rather, they are troubled at their fulness, as being a hindrance of their appetite, and are always emptying themselves, that they may make room for new enjoyment. The damage in these cases is evident; for the body is disordered and torn by both these. It is an inconvenience that always attends a vomit, that it increases and gives nourishment to this insatiable humor. For it engenders hunger, as violent and turbulent as a roaring torrent, which continually annoys a man, and forces him to his meat, not like a natural appetite that calls for food, but rather like inflammation that calls for plasters and physic. Wherefore his pleasures are short and imperfect, and in the enjoyment are very furious and unquiet; upon which there come distentions, and affections of the pores; and retentions of the spirits, which will not wait for the natural evacuations, but run over the surface of the body, so that it is like an overloaded ship, where it is more necessary to throw something overboard than to take any thing more in. Those disturbances in our bellies which are caused by physic corrupt and consume our inward parts, and do rather increase our superfluous humors than bring them away; which is as if one that was troubled at the number of Greeks that inhabited the city, should call in the Arabians and Scythians. Some are so much mistaken that, in order that they may void their customary and natural superfluities, they take Cnidian-berries or scammony, or some other harsh and incongruous physic, which is more fit to be carried away by purge than it is able to purge us. It is best therefore by a moderate and regular diet to keep our body in order, so that it may command itself as to fulness or emptiness. If at any time there be a necessity, we may take a vomit, but without physic or much tampering, and such a one as will not cause any great disturbance, only enough to save us from indigestion by casting up gently what is superfluous. For as linen cloths, when they are washed with soap and nitre, are more worn out than when they are washed with water only, so physical vomits corrupt and destroy the body. If at any time we are costive, there is no medicine better than some sort of food which will purge you gently and with ease, the trial of which is familiar to all, and the use without any pain. But if it will not yield to those, we may drink water for some days, or fast, or take a clyster, rather than take any troublesome purging physic; which most men are inclined to do, like that sort of women which take things on purpose to miscarry, that they may be empty and begin afresh. 

23  But to be done with these, there are some on the other side who are too exact in enjoining themselves to periodical and set fasts, doing amiss in teaching nature to want coercion when there is no occasion for it, and making that abstinence necessary which is not so, and all this at times when nature requires her accustomed way of living. It is better to use those injunctions we lay upon our bodies with more freedom, even when we have no ill symptom or suspicion upon us; and so to order our diet (as has been said), that our bodies may be always obedient to any change, and not be enslaved or tied up to one manner of living, nor so exact in regarding the times, numbers, and periods of our actions. For it is a life neither safe, easy, politic, nor like a man, but more like the life of an oyster or the trunk of a tree, to live so without any variety, and in restraint as to our meat, abstinence, motion, and rest; casting ourselves into a gloomy, idle, solitary, unsociable, and inglorious way of living, far remote from the administration of the state, — at least (I may say) in my opinion. 

24  For health is not to be purchased by sloth and idleness, for those are chief inconveniences of sickness; and there is no difference between him who thinks to enjoy his health by idleness and quiet, and him who thinks to preserve his eyes by not using them, and his voice by not speaking. For such a man's health will not be any advantage to him in the performance of many things he is obliged to do as a man. Idleness can never be said to conduce to health, for it destroys the very end of it. Nor is it true that they are the most healthful that do least. For Xenocrates was not more healthful than Phocion, or Theophrastus than Demetrius. It signified nothing to Epicurus or his followers, as to that so much talked of good habit of body, that they declined all business, though it were never so honorable. We ought to preserve the natural constitution of our bodies by other means, knowing every part of our life is capable of sickness and health. The contrary advice to that which Plato gave his scholars is to be given to those who are concerned in public business. For he was wont to say, whenever he left his school; Go to, my boys, see that you employ your leisure in some honest sport and pastime. Now to those that are in public office our advice is, that they bestow their labor on honest and necessary things, not tiring their bodies with small or inconsiderable things. For most men upon accident torment themselves with watchings, journeyings, and running up and down, for no advantage and with no good design, but only that they may do others an injury, or because they envy them or are competitors with them, or because they hunt after unprofitable and empty glory. To such as these I think Democritus chiefly spoke, when he said, that if the body should summon the soul before a court on an action for ill-treatment, the soul would lose the case. And perhaps on the other hand Theophrastus spoke well, when he said metaphorically, that the soul pays a dear house-rent to its landlord the body. But still the body is very much more inconvenienced by the soul, when it is used beyond reason and there is not care enough taken of it. For when it is in passion, action, or any concern, it does not at all consider the body. Jason, being somewhat out of humor, said, that in little things we ought not to stand upon justice, so that in greater things we may be sure to do it. We, and that in reason, advise any public man to trifle and play with little things, and in such cases to indulge himself, so that in worthy and great concerns he may not bring a dull, tired, and weary body, but one that is the better for having lain still, like a ship in the dock, that when the soul has occasion again to call it into business, "it may run with her, like a sucking colt with the mare." 

25  Upon which account, when business gives us leave, we ought to refresh our bodies, grudging them neither sleep nor dinner nor that ease which is the medium between pain and pleasure; not taking that course which most men do, who thereby wear out their bodies by the many changes they expose them to, making them like hot iron thrown into cold water, by softening and troubling them with pleasures, after they have been very much strained and oppressed with labor. And on the other side, after they have opened their bodies and made them tender either by wine or venery, they exercise them either at the bar or at court, or enter upon some other business which requires earnest and vigorous action. Heraclitus, when he was in a dropsy, desired his physician to bring a drought upon his body, for it had a glut of rain. Most men are very much in the wrong who, after being tired or having labored or fasted, moisten (as it were) and dissolve their bodies in pleasure, and again force and distend them after those pleasures. Nature does not require that we should make the body amends at that rate. But an intemperate and slavish mind, so soon as it is free from labor, like a sailor, runs insolently into pleasures and delights, and again falls upon business, so that nature can have no rest or leave to enjoy that temper and calmness which it does desire, but is troubled and tormented by all this irregularity. Those that have any discretion never so much as offer pleasure to the body when it is laboring, — for at such times they do not require it at all, — nor do they so much as think of it, their minds being intent upon that employ they are in, either the delight or diligence of the soul getting the mastery over all other desires. Epaminondas is reported wittily to have said of a good man that died about the time of the battle of Leuctra, How came he to have so much leisure as to die, when there was so much business stirring? It may truly be asked concerning a man that is either of public employ or a scholar, What time can such a man spare, either to debauch his stomach or be drunk or lascivious? For such men, after they have done their business, allow quiet and repose to their bodies, reckoning not only unprofitable pains but unnecessary pleasures to be enemies to nature, and avoiding them as such. 

26  I have heard that Tiberius Caesar was wont to say, that he was a ridiculous man that held forth his hand to a physician after sixty. But it seems to me to be a little too severely said. But this is certain, that every man ought to have skill in his own pulse, for it is very different in every man; neither ought he to be ignorant of the temper of his own body, as to heat and cold, or what things do him good, and what hurt. For he has no sense, and is both a blind and lame inhabitant of his body, that must learn these things from another, and must ask his physicians whether it is better with him in winter or summer; or whether moist or dry things agree best with him, or whether his pulse be frequent or slow. For it is necessary and easy to know such things by custom and experience. It is convenient to understand more what meats and drinks are wholesome than what are pleasant, and to have more skill in what is good for the stomach than in what seems good to the mouth, and in those things that are easy of digestion than in those that gratify our palate. For it is no less scandalous to ask a physician what is easy and what is hard of digestion, and what will agree with your stomach and what not, than it is to ask what is sweet, and what bitter, and what sour. They nowadays correct their cooks, being able well enough to tell what is too sweet, too salt, or too sour, but themselves do not know what will be light or easy of digestion, and agreeable to them. Therefore in the seasoning of broth they seldom err, but they do so scurvily pickle themselves every day as to afford work enough for the physician. For that pottage is not accounted best that is the sweetest, but they mingle bitter and sweet together. But they force the body to partake of many, and those cloying pleasures, either not knowing, or not remembering, that to things that are good and wholesome nature adds a pleasure unmingled with any regret or repentance afterward. We ought also to know what things are cognate and convenient to our bodies, and be able to direct a proper diet to any one upon any change of weather or other circumstance. 

27  As for those inconveniences which sordidness and poverty bring upon many, as gathering of fruit, continual labor, and running about, and want of rest, which fall heavy upon the weaker parts of the body and such as are inwardly infirm, we need not fear that any man of employ or scholar — to whom our present discourse belongs — should be troubled with them. But there is a severe sort of sordidness as to their studies, which they ought to avoid, by which they are forced many times to neglect their body, oftentimes denying it a supply when it has done its work, making the mortal part of us do its share in work as well as the immortal, and the earthly part as much as the heavenly. But, as the ox said to his fellow-servant the camel, when he refused to ease him of his burthen, It won't be long before you carry my burthen and me too: which fell out to be true, when the ox died. So it happens to the mind, when it refuses that little relaxation and comfort which it needs in its labor; for a little while after a fever or vertigo seizes us, and then reading, discoursing, and disputing must be laid aside, and it is forced to partake of the body's distemper. Plato therefore rightly exhorts us not to employ the mind without the body, nor the body without the mind, but to drive them equally like a pair of horses; and when at any time the body toils and labors with the mind, then to be the more careful of it, and thus to gain its well-beloved health, believing that it obliges us with the best of things when it is no impediment to our knowledge and enjoyment of virtue, either in business or discourse.

1  Now that the nuptial ceremonies are over, and that the priestess of Demeter has joined you both together in the bands of matrimony according to the custom of the country, I thought a short discourse of this nature might not be either unacceptable or unseasonable, but rather serve as a kind epithalamium to congratulate your happy conjunction; more especially, since there can be nothing more useful in conjugal society than the observance of wise and wholesome precepts, suitable to the harmony of matrimonial converse. For among the variety of musical moods and measures there is one which is called Hippothoros, a sort of composition to the flute and hautboy, made use of to encourage and provoke stallions to cover mares. But philosophy being furnished with many noble and profitable discourses, there is not any one subject that deserves a more serious study than that of wedlock, whereby they who are engaged in a long community of bed and board are more steadfastly united in affection, and made more pliable one to another in humor and condition. To this purpose, having reduced under several short heads and similes some certain instructions and admonitions which you, as tutored up in philosophy, have frequently already heard, I send you the collection as a present, beseeching the Muses so with their presence to assist the Goddess Aphrodite, that the harmony of your mutual society and complacency in domestic diligences may outcry the melodious concords of lute or harp, while you live united together by reason and philosophy. Therefore it was that the ancients placed the statue of Aphrodite by that of Hermes, to signify that the pleasures of matrimony chiefly consist in the sweetness of conversation. They also set the Graces and Peitho, the goddess of persuasion, together, to show that the married couple were to act only by persuasion, and not to use the violences of wrangling and contention. 
Solon advised that the bride should eat a quince before she entered the nuptial sheets; intimating thereby, in my opinion, that the man was to expect his first pleasures from the breath and speech of his new-married bed-fellow. 

2  In Boeotia it is the custom, when they veil the virgin bride, to set upon her head a chaplet of wild asparagus, which from a thorny stalk affords a most delicious fruit, to let us understand that a new-married woman, discreetly brooking at the beginning the first distates of marriage restraints, grows yieldingly complaisant at length, and makes conforming wedlock a happiness to each. And indeed such husbands who cannot bear with the little disdains and first froppishness of imprudent youth are like to those that choose the sour grapes and leave to others the ripe delicious clusters. On the other side, those young ladies that take a disdain to their husbands by reason of their first debates and encounters may be well compared to those that patiently endure the sting but fling away the honey. 

3  It especially behooves those people who are newly married to avoid the first occasions of discord and dissension; considering that vessels newly formed are subject to be bruised and put out of shape by many slight accidents, but when the materials come once to be settled and hardened by time, nor fire nor sword will hardly prejudice the solid substance. 

4  Fire takes speedy hold of straw or hare's fur, but soon goes out again, unless fed with an addition of more fuel. Thus that same love, whose flames are nourished only by heat of youth and looser charms of beauty, seldom proves of long continuance or grows to wedlock maturity, unless it have taken a deep root in conformity of manners, and mutual affection be enlivened by the intermixture of souls as well as bodies, while prudence and discretion feed the noble flame. 

5  They who bait their hooks with intoxicated drugs with little pains surprise the hungry fish, but then they prove unsavory to the taste and dangerous to eat. Thus women that by the force of charms and philters endeavor to subdue their husbands to the satisfaction of their pleasure become at length the wives of madmen, sots, and fools. For they whom the sorceress Circe had enchanted, being then no better than swine and asses, were no longer able to please or do her service. But she loved Ulysses entirely, whose prudence avoided her venomous intoxications and rendered his conversation highly grateful. 

6  They who rather choose to be the mistresses of senseless fools than the obedient wives of wise and sober husbands are like those people that prefer misguidance of the blind before the conduct of them that can see and know the way. 

7  They will not believe that Pasiphae, the consort of a prince, could ever be enamored of a bull, and yet themselves are so extravagant as to abandon the society of their husbands, — men of wisdom, temperance, and gravity, — and betake themselves to the bestial embraces of those who are given wholly to riot and debauchery as if they were dogs or goats. 

8  Some men, either unable or unwilling to mount themselves into their saddles through infirmity or laziness, teach their horses to fall upon their knees, and in that posture to receive their riders. In like manner there are some persons who, having married young ladies not less considerable for the nobility of their birth than their wealthy dowries, take little care themselves to improve the advantages of such a splendid conjunction, but with a severe moroseness labor to depress and degrade their wives, proud of the mastery and vaunting in domestic tyranny. Whereas in this case it becomes a man to use the reins of government with as equal regard to the quality and dignity of the woman as to the stature of the horse. 

9  We behold the moon then shining with a full and glorious orb, when farthest distant from the sun; but, as she warps back again to meet her illustrious mate, the nearer she makes her approach, the more she is eclipsed until no longer seen. Quite otherwise, a woman ought to display the charms of her virtue and the sweetness of her disposition in her husband's presence, but in his absence to retire to silence and reservedness at home. 

10  Nor can we approve the saying of Herodotus, that a woman lays aside her modesty with her shift. For surely then it is that a chaste woman chiefly vails herself with bashfulness, when, in the privacies of matrimonial duties, excess of love and maiden reverence become the secret signals and testimonies of mutual affection. 

11  As in musical concords, when the upper strings are so tuned as exactly to accord, the base always gives the tone; so in well-regulated and well-ordered families, all things are carried on with the harmonious consent and agreement of both parties, but the conduct and contrivance chiefly redounds to the reputation and management of the husband. 

12  It is a common proverb, that the sun is too strong for the north wind; for the more the wind ruffles and strives to force a man's upper garment from his back, the faster he holds it, and the closer he wraps it about his shoulders. But he who so briskly defended himself from being plundered by the wind, when once the sun begins to scald the air, all in a dropping sweat is then constrained to throw away not only his flowing garment but his tunic also. This puts us in mind of the practice of most women, who, being limited by their husbands in their extravagances of feasting and superfluities of habit, presently fill the house with noise and uproar; whereas, if they would but suffer themselves to be convinced by reason and soft persuasion, they would of themselves acknowledge their vanity and submit to moderation. 

13  Cato ejected a certain Roman out of the senate for kissing his wife in the presence of his daughter. It is true, the punishment was somewhat too severe; but if kissing and colling and hugging in the sight of others be so unseemly, as indeed it is, how much more indecent is it to chide and brawl and maunder one at another while strangers are in company? If lawful familiarity and caresses between man and wife are not to be allowed but in their private retirements, shall the bitter interchanges and loud discoveries of invective and inconsiderate passion be thought an entertainment pleasingly proper for unconcerned and public ears? 

14  As there is little or no use to be made of a mirror, though in a frame of gold enchased with all the sparkling variety of the richest gems, unless it render back the true similitude of the image it receives; so is there nothing of profit in a wealthy dowry, unless the conditions, the temper, the humor of the wife be conformable to the natural disposition and inclination of the husband, and he sees the virtues of his own mind exactly represented in hers. Or, if a fair and beautiful mirror that makes a sad and pensive visage look jocund and gay, or a wanton or smiling countenance show pensive and mournful, is therefore presently rejected as of no value; thus may not she be thought an angry, peevish, and importunate woman, that louts and lowers upon the caresses of a husband, and when he courts the pastime of her affections, entertains him with frumps and taunts, but when she finds him serious in business, allures him then with her unseasonable toyings to pleasure and enjoyment? For the one is an offence of impertinency, the other a contempt of her husband's kindness. But, as geometricians affirm that lines and surfaces are not moved of themselves, but according to the motions of the bodies to which they belong, so it behooves a woman to challenge no peculiar passion or affection as her own, but to share with her husband in business, in his recreations, in his cares, and in his mirth. 

15  As they who are offended to see their wives eat and drink freely in their company do but whet their appetites to glut and gormandize in corners by themselves; so they who refuse to frolic in retirement with their wives, or to let them participate of their private pastimes and dalliances, do but instruct them to cater for their own pleasures and delights. 

16  The Persian kings, when they contain themselves within the limits of their usual banquets, suffer their married wives to sit down at their tables; but when they once design to indulge the provocations of amorous heats and wine, then they send away their wives, and call for their concubines, their gypsies, and their songstresses, with their lascivious tunes and wanton galliards. Wherein they do well, not thinking it proper to debauch their wives with the tipsy frolics and dissolute extravagances of their intemperance. If therefore any private person, swayed by the unruly motions of his incontinency, happen at any time to make a trip with a kind she-friend or his wife's chambermaid, it becomes not the wife presently to lower and take pepper in the nose, but rather to believe that it was his respect to her which made him unwilling she should behold the follies of ebriety and foul intemperance. 

17  Princes that be addicted to music increase the number of excellent musicians; if they be lovers of learning, all men strive to excel in reading and in eloquence; if given to martial exercises, a military ardor rouses straight the drowsy sloth of all their subjects. Thus husbands effeminately finical only teach their wives to paint and polish themselves with borrowed lustre. The studious of pleasure render them immodest and whorish. On the other side, men of serious, honest, and virtuous conversations make sober, chaste, and prudent wives. 

18  A young Lacedemonian lass, being asked by an acquaintance of hers whether she had yet embraced her husband, made answer, No; but that he had embraced her. And after this manner, in my opinion, it behooves an honest woman to behave herself toward her husband, never to shun nor to disdain the caresses and dalliances of his amorous inclinations, when he himself begins; but never herself to offer the first occasion of provocation. For the one savors of impudent harlotry, the other displays a female pride and imperiousness void of conjugal affection. 

19  It behooves a woman not to make peculiar and private friendships of her own, but to esteem only her husband's acquaintance and familiars as hers. Now as the Gods are our chiefest and most beneficial friends, it behooves her to worship and adore only those Deities which her husband reputes and reverences for such. But as for quaint opinions and superstitious innovations, let them be exterminated from her outermost threshold. For no sacrifices or services can be acceptable to the Gods, performed by women, as it were, by stealth and in secret, without the knowledge of the husband. 

20  Plato asserts those cities to be the most happy and best regulated where these expressions, "This is mine," "This is not mine," are seldomest made use of. For that then the citizens enjoy in common, so far as is convenient, those things that are of greatest importance. But in wedlock those expressions are utterly to be abolished. For as the physicians say that the right side being bruised or beaten communicates its pain to the left; so indeed the husband ought to sympathize in the sorrows and afflictions of the woman, and much more does it become the wife to be sensible of the miseries and calamities of the husband; to the intent that, as knots are made fast by knitting the bows of a thread one within another, so the ligaments of conjugal society may be strengthened by the mutual interchange of kindness and affection. This Nature herself instructs us, by mixing us in our bodies; while she takes a part from each, and then blending the whole together produces a being common to both, to the end that neither may be able to discern or distinguish what was belonging to another, or lay claim to assured propriety. Therefore is community of estate and purses chiefly requisite among married couples, whose principal aim it ought to be to mix and incorporate their purchases and disbursements into one substance, neither pretending to call this hers or that his, but accounting all inseparably peculiar to both. However, as in a goblet where the proportion of water exceeds the juice of the grape, yet still we call the mixture wine; in like manner the house and estate must be reputed the possession of the husband, although the woman brought the chiefest part. 

21  Helen was covetous, Paris luxurious. On the other side, Ulysses was prudent, Penelope chaste. Happy therefore was the match between the latter; but the nuptials of the former brought an Iliad of miseries as well upon the Greeks as barbarians. 

22  The question being put by some of his friends to a certain Roman, why he had put away his wife, both sober, beautiful, chaste, and rich, the gentleman, putting forth his foot and showing his buskin, said: Is not this a new, handsome, complete shoe? — yet no man but myself knows where it pinches me. Therefore ought not a woman to boast either of her dower, her parentage, or beauty; but in such things as most delight a husband, pleasantness of converse, sweetness of disposition, and briskness of humor, there to show nothing of harshness, nothing distasteful, nothing offensive, but from day today to study behavior jocund, blithe, and conformable to his temper. For as physicians are much more afraid of fevers that proceed from hidden causes, which have been by little and little contracting for a long time together, than those that receive their nourishment from apparent and manifest unconcoctions; thus, if daily continued, the petty snubs and frumps between man and wife, though perhaps unknown to others, are of that force that above all things else they canker conjugal affection, and destroy the pleasure of cohabitation. 

23  King Philip so far doted on a fair Thessalian lady, that she was suspected to have used some private arts of fascination towards him. Wherefore Olympias labored to get the supposed sorceress into her power. But when the queen had viewed her well, and duly examined her beauty, beheld the Graces of her deportment, and considered her discourse bespake her no less than a person of noble descent and education; Hence, fond suspicions, hence vainer calumnies! said she, for I plainly find the charms which thou makest use of are in thyself. Certainly therefore a lawful wife surpasses the common acceptation of happiness when, without enhancing the advantages of her wealth, nobility, and form, or vaunting the possession of Aphrodite's cestus itself, she makes it her business to win her husband's affection by her virtue and sweetness of disposition. 

24  Another time the same Olympias, understanding that a young courtier had married a lady, beautiful indeed, but of no good report, said: Sure, the Hotspur had little brains, otherwise he would never have married with his eyes. For they are fools who in the choice of a wife believe the report of their sight or fingers; like those who telling out the portion in their thoughts take the woman upon content, never examining what her conditions are, or whether she is proper to make him a fit wife or no? 

25  Socrates was wont to give this advice to young men that accustomed themselves to their mirrors: — if ill-favored, to correct their deformity by the practice of virtue; if handsome, not to blemish their outward form with inward vice. In like manner, it would not be amiss for a mistress of a family, when she holds her mirror in her hands, to discourse her own thoughts: — if deformed, thus, Should I prove lewd and wicked too? — on the other side, thus the fair one, What if chaste beside? For it adds a kind of veneration to a woman not so handsome, that she is more beloved for the perfections of her mind than the outside Graces of her body. 

26  Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, sent several costly presents of rich apparel, necklaces, and bracelets to the daughters of Lysander, which however the father would never permit the virgins to accept, saying: These gaudy presents will procure more infamy than honor to my daughters. And indeed, before Lysander, Sophocles in one of his tragedies had uttered the following sentence to the same effect: Mistake not, silly wretch; this pompous trim Rather disgraces than proclaims thee great, And shows the rage of thy lascivious heat. For, as Crates said, that is ornament which adorns; and that adorns a woman which renders her more comely and decent. This is an honor conferred upon her, not by the lustre of gold, the sparkling of emeralds and diamonds, nor splendor of the purple tincture, but by the real embellishments of gravity, discretion, humility, and modesty. 

27  They who offer to Hera as the Goddess of Wedlock never consecrate the gall with the other parts of the sacrifice, but having drawn it forth, they cast it behind the altar. Which constitution of the lawgiver fairly implies that all manner of passionate anger and bitterness of reproach should be exterminated from the thresholds of nuptial cohabitation. Not but that a certain kind of austerity becomes the mistress of a family; which however should be like that of wine, profitable and delightful, not like aloes, biting and medicinally ungrateful to the palate. 

28  Plato observing the morose and sour humor of Xenocrates, otherwise a person of great virtue and worth, admonished him to sacrifice to the Graces. In like manner, I am of opinion that it behooves a woman of moderation to crave the assistance of the Graces in her behavior towards her husband, thereby (according to the saying of Metrodorus) to render their society mutually harmonious to each other, and to preserve her from being waspishly proud, out of a conceit of her fidelity and virtue. For it becomes not a frugal woman to be neglectful of decent neatness, nor one who has great respect to her husband to refrain complacency in her conversation; seeing that, as the over-rigid humor of a wife renders her honesty irksome, so sluttery begets a hatred of her sparing and pinching housewifery. 

29  She who is afraid to laugh or to appear merry and gay before her husband, for fear of waking his jealousy, may be said to resemble one that forbears to anoint herself at all, lest she should be thought to use unnecessary or harlotry perfumes, or that neglects to wash her face, to avoid the suspicion of painting. Thus we find that poets and orators, who desire to shun the tiring tediousness of a low, vulgar, and drowsy style, ingeniously labor to detain and move both their readers and their auditors by the quaintness of their invention, grandeur of the subject, and lively representation of the humors and conditions which they bring upon the stage. From whence a discreet mistress of a family may likewise learn to avoid all manner of over-nice curiosity and squeamish affectation, all excess of jollity savoring of the courtesan, and every thing tending to profuse pomp; but she will rather employ all her wit and art in exhibiting to her husband all the Graces of life and character, accustoming him to honesty and decency joined with pleasure and delight. Nevertheless, if there be any woman so severe and reserved by nature that no means can be found to make her blithe and sportive, it behooves her husband to give way to her temper; and, as Phocionanswered Antipater, who commanded him to do an ill thing that misbecame his quality, I cannot be thy friend and flatter thee at one and the same time, in like manner ought a man to rest satisfied with the virtues of a chaste wife, though her serious disposition will not permit her to act the airy part of a mistress. 

30  The Egyptian women were anciently never wont to wear shoes, to the end they might accustom themselves to stay at home. But altogether different is the humor of our women; for they, unless allowed their jewels, their bracelets, and necklaces, their gaudy vestments, gowns, and petticoats, all bespangled with gold, and their embroidered buskins, will never stir abroad. 

31  Theano, as she was dressing herself one morning in her chamber, by chance discovered some part of her naked arm. Upon which, one of the company crying out, Oh, what a lovely arm is there! — 'Tis very true, said she, but yet not common. Thus ought a chaste and virtuous woman not only to keep her naked arms from open view, but to lock up her very words and set a guard upon her lips, especially in the company of strangers, since there is nothing which sooner discovers the qualities and conditions of a woman than her discourse. 

32  Phidias made the statue of Aphrodite at Elis with one foot upon the shell of a tortoise, to signify two great duties of a virtuous woman, which are to keep at home and be silent. For she is only to speak to her husband, or by her husband. Nor is she to take amiss the uttering her mind in that manner, through another more proper organ. 

33  Princes and kings honor themselves in giving honor to philosophers and learned men. On the other side, great personages admired and courted by philosophers are no way honored by their flatteries, which are rather a prejudice and stain to the reputation of those that use them. Thus it is with women, who in honoring and submitting to their husbands win for themselves honor and respect, but when they strive to get the mastery, they become a greater reproach to themselves than to those that are so ignominiously henpecked. But then again, it behooves a husband to control his wife, not as a master does his vassal, but as the soul governs the body, with the gentle hand of mutual friendship and reciprocal affection. For as the soul commands the body, without being subject to its pleasures and inordinate desires, in like manner should a man so exercise his authority over his wife, as to soften it with complaisance and kind requital of her loving submission. 

34  Philosophers assert that, of bodies which consist of several parts, some are composed of parts distinct and separate, as a navy or army royal; others of contiguous parts, as a house or a ship; and others of parts united at the first conception, equally partaking of life and motion and growing together, as are the bodies of all living creatures. Thus, where people wed for pure affection, that marriage may be said to resemble those bodies whose parts are solidly fixed together. They who marry for the sake of great portions, or else desirous of offspring, are like to bodies whose parts are contiguous and cleave close to one another; and they who only bed together, if there be any such, resemble bodies whose parts are distinct and without dependency. Now, as physicians say that liquids are the only bodies which most easily intermix without any difference of propriety or respect one with another; so should it be said of people joined together in matrimony, that there is a perfect mixture of bodies and estates, of friends and relations. Therefore the Roman law prohibits new married people from giving and receiving mutual presents one from another; not that they should not participate one with another, but to show that they were not to enjoy any thing but what they possess in common. 

35  In Leptis, a city of Libya, it was an ancient custom for the bride, the next day after the nuptial solemnity, to send home to the mother of the bridegroom to borrow a boiler, which she not only refused to lend, but sent back word that she had none to spare; to the end that the new married woman, having by that means tried the disposition of her mother-in-law, if afterwards she found her humor peevish and perverse, might with more patience brook her unkindness, as being no more than what she expected. Rather it becomes the daughter to avoid all occasions of distaste. For it is natural to some mothers to be jealous that the wife deprives her of that filial tenderness which she expects from her son. For which there is no better cure than for a wife so to contrive the gaining of her husband's love as not to lessen or withdraw his affection from his mother. 

36  It is generally observed that mothers are fondest of their sons, as expecting from them their future assistance when they grow into years, and that fathers are kindest to their daughters, as standing most in need of their paternal succor. And perhaps, out of that mutual respect which the man and his wife bear one to another, either of them would seem to carry greater affection for that which is proper and familiar to the other. But this pleasing controversy is easily reconciled. For it becomes a woman to show the choicest of her respects and to be more complaisant to the kindred of her husband than to her own to make her complaints to them, and conceal her discontents from her own relations. For the trust which she reposes in them causes them to confide in her, and her esteem of them increases their respects to her. 

37  The commanders of the Grecian auxiliaries that marched in aid of Cyrus gave these instructions to their soldiers, that, if their enemies advanced whooping and hallowing to the combat, they should receive the charge, observing an exact silence; but on the other side, if they came on silently, then to rend the air with their martial shouts. Thus prudent wives, when their husbands in the heat of their passion rant and tear the house down, should make no returns, but quietly hold their peace; but if they only frown out their discontents in moody anger, then, with soft language and gently reasoning the case, they may endeavor to appease and qualify their fury. 

38  Rightly therefore are they reprehended by Euripides, who introduce the harp and other instruments of music at their compotations. For music ought rather to be made use of for the mitigation of wrath and to allay the sorrows of mourning, not to heighten the voluptuousness of those that are already drowned in jollity and delight. Believe yourselves then to be in an error that sleep together for pleasure, but when angry and at variance make two beds, and that never at that time call to your assistance the Goddess Aphrodite, who better than any other knows how to apply a proper remedy to such distempers; as Homer teaches us, where he brings in Hera using this expression: Your deadly feuds will I myself appease, And th' amorous bed shall be the charming place Where all your strife shall in embracing cease." 

39  Though it becomes a man and his wife at all times to avoid all occasions of quarrelling one with another, yet is there no time so unseasonable for contention as when they are between the same sheets. As the woman in difficult labor said to those that were about to lay her upon her bed; How, said she, can this bed cure these pains, since it was in this very bed that my pleasures were the cause of all my throes? And still less will those reproaches and contests which the bed produces be reconciled at any other time or place. 

40  Hermione seems to be in the right, speaking to this effect in one of the tragedies of Euripides: The lewd discourse of women void of shame Ruined my honor and my virtuous name." However, these mischiefs rarely happen but where women at variance and jealous of their husbands open not only their door but their ears to whole swarms of twattling gossips, that widen the difference. For then it behooves a prudent woman to shut her ears and beware of listening to such enchanting tattlers, calling to mind the answer of Philip, when he was exasperated by his friends against the Greeks for cursing and reviling him, notwithstanding all the benefits they had received at his hands: What would they have done, said he, had we used them with unkindness and severity? The same should be the reply of a prudent woman to those she-devils, when they bewail her condition, and cry, A woman so loving, so chaste and modest, and yet abused by her husband! For then should she make answer, What would he do, should I begin to hate him and to do him wrong? 

41  A certain master, whose slave had been run away from him for several months together, after a long search at length found him suddenly in a workhouse, and said, Where could I have desired to meet with thee more to my wish than in such a place as this? Thus, when a woman is grown jealous of her husband and meditates nothing but present divorce, before she be too hasty, let her reason with herself in this manner: In what condition would my rival choose to see me with greater satisfaction than as I am, all in a fret and fume, enraged against my husband, and ready to abandon both my house and marriage-bed together? 

42  The Athenians have three sacred ploughed fields: the first at Sciron, in memory of the first invention by their ancestors of sowing; the second at Rharia; and the third under the Acropolis, which they call the Bouzygion in commemoration of the first yoking of oxen to the plough. But more sacred than all these is the nuptial ploughing and sowing, in order to the procreation of children. And therefore Sophocles rightly calls Aphrodite the fruitful Cytherea. For which reason it highly imports both the man and the woman, when bound together by the holy tie of wedlock, to abstain from all unlawful and forbidden copulation, and from ploughing and sowing where they never desire to reap any fruit of their labor, or, if the harvest come to perfection, they conceal and are ashamed to own it. 

43  The orator Gorgias, in a full assembly of the Grecians, resorting from all parts to the Olympic games, making an oration to the people, wherein he exhorted them to live in peace, unity, and concord among one another, Melanthus cried out aloud: This man pretends to give us advice, and preaches here in public nothing but love and union, who in his own private family is not able to keep his wife and his maid from being continually together by the ears, and yet there are only they three in the house. For it seems that Gorgias had a kindness for his servant, which made her mistress jealous. And therefore it behooves that man to have his family in exquisite order who will undertake to regulate the failing of his friends or the public miscarriages, especially since the misbehavior of men toward their wives is far sooner divulged among the people than the transgressions of women against their husbands. 

44  It is reported that the scent of sweet perfumes will make a cat grow mad. Now, supposing those strong perfumes which are used by many men should prove offensive to their wives, would it not be a great piece of unnatural unkindness to discompose a woman with continual fits rather than deny himself a pleasure so trivial? But when it is not their husbands' perfuming themselves, but their lascivious wandering after lewd and extravagant women, that disturbs and disorders their wives, it is a great piece of injustice, for the tickling pleasure of a few minutes, to afflict and disquiet a virtuous woman. For since they who are conversant with bees will often abstain from women, to prevent the persecution of those little but implacable enemies of unclean dalliance, much rather ought a man to be pure from the pollutions of harlotry, when he approaches his chaste and lawful wife. 

45  They whose business it is to manage elephants never put on white frocks, nor dare they that govern wild bullsappear in red, those creatures being scared and exasperated by those colors. And some report that tigers, when they hear a drum beat afar off, grow mad and exercise their savage fury upon themselves. If then there are some men that are offended at the gay and sumptuous habit of their wives, and others that brook as ill their gadding to plays and balls, what reason is there that women should not refrain those vanities rather than perplex and discontent their husbands, with whom it becomes their modesty to live with patience and sobriety. 

46  What said a woman to King Philip, that pulled and hauled her to him by violence against her will? Let me go, said she, for when the candles are out, all women are alike. This is aptly applied to men addicted to adultery and lust. But a virtuous wife, when the candle is taken away, ought then chiefly to differ from all other women. For when her body is not to be seen, her chastity, her modesty, and her peculiar affection to her husband ought then to shine with their brightest lustre. 

47  Plato admonishes old men to carry themselves with most gravity in the presence of young people, to the end the awe of their example may imprint in youth the greater respect and reverence of age. For the loose and vain behavior of men stricken in years breeds a contempt of gray hairs, and never can expect veneration from juvenility. Which sober admonition should instruct the husband to bear a greater respect to his wife than to all other women in the world, seeing that the nuptial chamber must be to her either the school of honor and chastity or that of incontinency and wantonness. For he that allows himself those pleasures that he forbids his wife, acts like a man that would enjoin his wife to oppose those enemies to which he has himself already surrendered. 

48  As to what remains, in reference to superfluity of habit and decent household furniture, remember, dear Eurydice, what Timoxenas has written to Aristylla. And do you, Pollianus, never believe that women will be weaned from those toys and curiosities wherein they take a kind of pride, and which serve for an alleviation of their domestic solitude, while you yourself admire the same things in other women, and are taken with the gayety of golden beakers, magnificent pictures for your houses, and rich trappings for your mules and horses. For it were a strange moroseness to debar a woman those ornamental vanities which naturally her sex admire, nor will it easily be endured without regret, where she sees the man much more indulgent to his own humor. Since then thou art arrived at those years which are proper for the study of such sciences as are attained by reason and demonstration, endeavor to complete this knowledge by conversing with persons that may be serviceable to thee in such a generous design. And as for thy wife, like the industrious bee, gather everywhere from the fragrant flowers of good instruction, replenish thyself with whatever may be of advantage to her, and impart the same to her again in loving and familiar discourse, both for thy own and her improvement. For father thou and mother art to her; She now is thine, and not the parent's care." Nor is it less to thy commendation to hear what she returns: And you, my honored husband, are my guide And tutor in philosophy beside, From whose instructions I at once improve The fruits of knowledge and the sweets of love. For such studies as these fix the contemplations of women upon what is laudable and serious, and prevent their wasting time upon impertinent and pernicious vanity. For that lady that is studious in geometry will never affect the dissolute motions of dancing. And she that is taken with the sublime notions of Plato and Xenophon will look with disdain upon the charms and enchantments of witches and sorcerers; and if any ridiculous astrologer promises to pull the moon down from the sky, she will laugh at the ignorance and folly of the women who believe in him, being herself well grounded in astronomy, and having heard about Aganice, the daughter of Hegetor, a Thessalian lord, who understanding the reason of the eclipses of the moon, and knowing beforehand the time of her being obscured by the shadow of the earth, made the credulous women believe that it was she who at those times unhinged the moon and removed her from the sky. True it is, that never any woman brought forth a perfect child without the assistance and society of man, but there are many whose imaginations are so strongly wrought upon by the sight or bare relation of monstrous spectacles, that they bring into the world several sorts of immature and shapeless productions. Thus, unless great care be taken by men to manure and cultivate the inclinations of their wives with wholesome and virtuous precepts, they often breed among themselves the false conceptions of extravagant and loose desires. But do thou, Eurydice, make it thy business to be familiar with the learned proverbs of wise and learned men, and always to embellish thy discourse with their profitable sentences, to the end thou mayst be the admiration of other women, that shall behold thee so richly adorned without the expense or assistance of jewels or embroideries. For pearls and diamonds are not the purchase of an ordinary purse; but the ornaments of Theano, Cleobuline, Gorgo the wife of King Leonidas, Timoclea the sister of Theagenes, the ancient Roman Claudia, or Cornelia the daughter of Scipio, — already so celebrated and renowned for their virtues, — will cost but little, yet nothing will set thee out more glorious or illustrious to the world, or render thy life more comfortable and happy. For if Sappho, only because she could compose an elegant verse, had the confidence to write to a haughty and wealthy dame in her time: Dead thou shalt lie forgotten in thy tomb, Since not for thee Pierian roses bloom," why may it not be much more lawful for thee to boast those great perfections that give thee a greater privilege, not only to gather the flowers, but to reap the fruits themselves, which the Muses bestow upon the lovers and real owners of learning and philosophy?

1  The seven — Solon, Bias, Thales, Anacharsis, Cleobulus, Pittacus, Chilo." No wonder, my friend Nicarchus, to find old truths so disguised, and the words and actions of men so grossly misrepresented and lamely delivered, seeing people are so disposed to give ear and credit to fictions of yesterday's standing. For there were not merely seven present at that feast, as you were informed; there were more than double the number. I was there myself in person and familiarly acquainted with Periander (my art had gained me his acquaintance); and Thales boarded at my house, at the request and upon the recommendation of Periander. Whoever then gave you that account of our feast did it very badly; it is plain he did it upon hearsay, and that he was not there among us. Now, since we are together and at leisure, and possibly we may not live to find an opportunity so convenient another time, I will (seeing you desire it) give you a faithful account of the whole proceedings at that meeting. 

2  Periander had prepared a dinner for us, not in the town, but in a dining-hall at Lechaion which stands close to the sanctuary of Aphrodite, to whom there was a sacrifice that day. For having neglected the duty ever since his mother died for love, he was resolved now to atone for the omission, being warned so to do by the dreams of Melissa. In order thereunto, there was provided a rich chariot for every one of the guests. It was summer-time, and every part of the way quite to the seaside was hardly passable, by reason of throngs of people and whole clouds of dust. As soon as Thales espied the chariot waiting at the door, he smilingly discharged it, and we walked through the fields to avoid the press and noise. There was in our company a third person, Niloxenus a Naucratian, an eminent man, who was very intimately acquainted with Solon and Thales in Egypt; he had a message to deliver to Bias, and a letter sealed, the contents whereof he knew not; only he guessed it contained a second question to be resolved by Bias, and in case Bias undertook not to answer it, he had in commission to impart it to the wisest men in Greece. What a fortune is this (quoth Niloxenus) to find you all together! This paper (showing it us) I am bringing to the banquet. Thales replied, after his wonted smiling way, If it contains any hard question, away with it to Priene. Bias will resolve it with the same readiness he did your former problem. What problem was that? quoth he. Why, saith Thales, a certain person sent him a beast for sacrifice with this command, that he should return him that part of his flesh which was best and worst; our philosopher very gravely and wisely pulled out the tongue of the beast, and sent it to the donor; — which single act procured him the name and reputation of a very wise man. It was not this act alone that advanced him in the estimation of the world, quoth Niloxenus; but he joyfully embraces what you so carefully shun, the acquaintance and friendship of kings and great men; and whereas he honors you for divers great accomplishments, he particularly admires you for this invention, that with little labor and no help of any mathematical instrument you took so truly the height of one of the pyramids; for fixing your staff erect at the point of the shadow which the pyramid cast, two triangles being thus made by the tangent rays of the sun, you demonstrated that what proportion one shadow had to the other, such the pyramid bore to the stick. But, as I said, you are accused of being a hater of kings, and certain back friends of yours have presented Amasis with a paper of yours stuffed with sentences reproachful to majesty; as for instance, being at a certain time asked by Molpagoras the Ionian, what the most absurd thing was you had observed in your notice, you replied, An old king. Another time, in a dispute that happened in your company about the nature of beasts, you affirmed that of wild beasts, a king, of tame, a flatterer was the worst. Such apophthegms must needs be unacceptable to kings, who pretend there is vast difference between them and tyrants. This was Pittacus's reply to Myrsilus, and it was spoken in jest, quoth Thales; nor was it an old king I said I should marvel at, but an old pilot. In this mistake, however, I am much of the youth's mind who, throwing a stone at a bitch, hit his stepmother, adding, Not so bad. I therefore esteemed Solon a very wise and good man, when I understood he refused empire; and if Pittacus had not taken upon himself a monarchy, he had never exclaimed, O ye Gods! how hard a matter it is to be good! And Periander, however he seems to be sick of his father's disease, is yet to be commended that he gives ear to wholesome discourses and converses only with wise and good men, rejecting the advice of Thrasybulus my countryman, who would have persuaded him to chop off the heads of his nobility. For a prince that chooses rather to govern slaves than freemen is like a foolish farmer, who throws his wheat and barley in the streets, to fill his barns with swarms of locusts and whole cages of birds. For government has one good thing to make amends for the many evils attending it, namely, honor and glory, provided the ruler rules good men because he is better than they, and great men seeming to be greater than they. But he that having ascended the throne minds only his own interest and ease, remitting all care and concern for the welfare of the subject, is fitter to tend sheep or to drive horses or to feed cattle than to govern men of reason. But this stranger (continues he) has engaged us in a deal of impertinent chat, for we have neglected to speak or offer any discourse suitable to the occasion and end of our meeting; for doubtless it becomes the guest, as well as the host, to make preparation beforehand. It is reported that the Sybarites used to invite their neighbors' wives a whole twelve-month before to their entertainments, that they might have convenient time to trim and adorn themselves; for my part, I am of opinion, that he who would feast as he should ought to allow himself more time for preparation than they, it being a more difficult matter to compose the mind into an agreeable temper than to fit one's clothes for the outward ornament of the body. For a prudent man comes not hither only to fill his belly, as if he were to fill a bottle, but to be sometimes grave and serious, sometimes pleasant, sometimes to listen to others, and sometimes to speak himself what may benefit or divert the company, if the meeting is intended for any good use or purpose. For if the victuals be not good, men may let them alone, or if the wine be bad, men may use water; but for a weak-headed, impertinent, unmannerly, shallow fellow-commoner there is no cure; he mars all the mirth and music, and spoils the best entertainment in the world. And it will be no easy business to rid one's self of a sullen temper when once entertained; since we find divers men, affronted in their debauches, have yet remembered the provocation to their dying day, the spite remaining like a surfeit arising from wrong done or anger conceived in drinking wine. Wherefore Chilo did very well and wisely; for when he was invited yesterday, he would not promise to come till he had a particular given him of all their names who were to meet him. For, quoth he, if my business calls me to sea or I am pressed to serve my prince in his wars, there is a necessity upon me to rest contented with whatever company I fall into, though never so unsuitable to my quality or disagreeable to my nature and humor; but voluntarily and needlessly to associate myself with any riffraff rabble would ill become any man pretending to but common discretion. The Egyptian skeleton which they brought into their feasts and exposed to the view of their guests, with this advice, that they should not in their merriment forget they would shortly be themselves such as that was, — though it was a sight not so acceptable (as may be supposed), — had yet this conveniency and use, to incite the spectators not to luxury and drunkenness but to mutual love and friendship, persuading them not to protract a life in itself short and uncertain by a tedious course of wickedness. 

3  In discourses of this kind we spent our time by the way, and were now come to the house. Here Thales would not be washed, for he had but a while before anointed himself; wherefore he took a round to view the horse-race and the wrestling-place, and the grove upon the water-side, which was neatly trimmed and beautified by Periander; this he did, not so much to satisfy his own curiosity (for he seldom or never admired any thing he saw), but that he might not disoblige Periander or seem to overlook or despise the glory and magnificence of our host. Of the rest every one, after he had anointed and washed himself, the servants introduced into a particular room, purposely fitted and prepared for the men; they were guided thither through a porch, in which Anacharsis sat, and there was a certain young lady with him arranging his hair. This lady stepping forward to welcome Thales, he saluted her most courteously, and smiling said: Madam, make the stranger fair and pleasant, so that, being (as he is) the mildest man in the world, he may not be fearful and hideous for us to look on. When I was curious to enquire who this lady was whom Thales thus complimented, he said, Do you not yet know the wise and famous Eumetis? — for so her father calls her, though others call her after her father's name Cleobulina. Doubtless, saith Niloxenus, they call her by this name to commend her judgment and wit, and her reach into the more abstruse and recondite part of learning; for I have myself in Egypt seen and read some problems first started and discussed by her. Not so, saith Thales, for she plays with these as men do with cockal-bones, and encounters boldly all she meets, without study or premeditation; she is a person of an admirable understanding, of a politic capacious mind, of a very obliging conversation, and one that by her rhetoric and the sweetness of her temper prevails upon her father to govern his subjects with the greatest mildness in the world. How popular she is appears, saith Niloxenus, plainly to any that observes her pleasant innocent garb. But pray, continues he, wherefore is it that she shows such tenderness and affection to Anacharsis? Because, replied Thales, he is a temperate and learned man, who fully and freely makes known to her those mysterious ways of dieting and physicing the sick which are now in use among the Scythians; and I doubt not she now coaxes and courts the old gentleman at the rate you see, taking this opportunity to discourse with him and learn something of him. As we were come near the dining-room, Alexidemus the Milesian, a bastard son of Thrasybulus the Tyrant, met us. He seemed to be disturbed, and in an angry tone muttered to himself some words which we could not distinctly hear; but espying Thales, and recovering himself out of his disorder, he complained how Periander had put an insufferable affront upon him. He would not permit me, saith he, to go to sea, though I earnestly importuned him, but he would press me to dine with him. And when I came as invited, he assigned me a seat unbecoming my person and character, Aeolians and islanders and others of inferior rank being placed above me; whence it is easy to infer how meanly he thinks of my father, and it is undeniable how this affront put upon me rebounds disgracefully in my parent's face. Say you so? quoth Thales, are you afraid lest the place lessen or diminish your honor and worth, as the Egyptians commonly hold the stars are magnified or lessened according to their higher or lower place and position? And are you more foolish than that Spartan who, when the perfect of the music had appointed him to sit in the lowest seat in the choir, replied, This is prudently done, for this is the ready way to bring this seat into repute and esteem? It is a frivolous consideration, where or below whom we sit; and it is a wiser part to adapt ourselves to the judgment and humor of our right and left hand man and the rest of the company, that we may approve ourselves worthy of their friendship, when they find we take no pet at our host, but are rather pleased to be placed near such good company. And whosoever is disturbed upon the account of his place seems to be more angry with his neighbor than with his host, but certainly is very troublesome and nauseous to both. These are fine words, and no more, quoth Alexidemus, for I observe you, the wisest of men, as ambitious as other men; and having said thus, he passed by us doggedly and trooped off. Thales, seeing us admiring the innocence of the man, declared he was a fellow naturally of a blockish, stupid disposition; for when he was a boy, he took a parcel of rich perfume that was presented to Thrasybulus and poured it into a large bowl, and mixing it with a quantity of wine, he drank it off and was ever hated for it. As Thales was talking after this fashion, in comes a servant and tells us it was Periander's pleasure we would come in and inform him what we thought of a certain creature brought into his presence that instant, whether it were so born by chance or were a prodigy and omen; — himself seeming mightily affected and concerned, for he judged his sacrifice polluted by it. At the same time he walked before us into a certain house adjoining to his garden-wall, where we found a young beardless shepherd, tolerably handsome, who having opened a leathern bag produced and showed us a child born (as he averred) of a mare. His upper part, as far as his neck and his hands, was of human shape, and the rest of his body resembled a perfect horse; his cry was like that of a child newly born. As soon as Niloxenus saw it, he cried out, The Gods deliver us; and away he fled as one sadly affrighted. But Thales eyed the shepherd a considerable while, and then smiling (for it was his way to jeer me perpetually about my art) says he, I doubt not, Diocles, but you have been all this time seeking for some expiatory offering, and intending to call to your aid those Gods whose province and work it is to avert evils from men, as if some great and grievous thing had happened. Why not? quoth I, for undoubtedly this prodigy portends sedition and war, and I fear the dire portents thereof may extend to myself, my wife, and my children, and prove all our ruin; since, before I have atoned for my former fault, the Goddess gives us this second evidence and proof of her displeasure. Thales replied never a word, but laughing went out of the house. Periander, meeting him at the door, enquired what we thought of that creature; he dismissed me, and taking Periander by the hand, said, Whatsoever Diocles shall persuade you to do, do it at your best leisure; but I advise you either not to have such young men to keep your mares, or to give them leave to marry. When Periander heard him out, he seemed infinitely pleased, for he laughed outright, and hugging Thales in his arms he kissed him; then saith he, O Diocles, I am apt to think the worst is over, and what this prodigy portended is now at an end; for do you not apprehend what a loss we have sustained in the want of Alexidemus's good company at supper? 

4  When we entered into the house, Thales raising his voice enquired where it was his worship refused to be placed; which being shown him, he sat himself in that very place, and prayed us to sit down by him, and said, I would gladly give any money to have an opportunity to sit and eat with Ardalus. This Ardalus was a Troezenian by birth, by profession a minstrel, and a priest of the Ardalian Muses, whose rites the old Ardalus had founded. Here Aesop, who was sent from Croesus to visit Periander, and withal to consult the oracle at Delphi, sitting by and beneath Solon upon a low stool, told the company this fable: A Lydian mule, viewing his own picture in a river, and admiring the bigness and beauty of his body, raises his crest; he waxes proud, resolving to imitate the horse in his gait and running; but presently, recollecting his extraction, how that his father was but an ass at best, he stops his career and checks his own haughtiness and bravery. Chilo replied, after his short laconic way, You are slow and yet try to run, in imitation of your mule. Amidst these discourses in comes Melissa and sits her down by Periander; Eumetis followed and came in as we were at supper; then Thales calls to me (I sat me down above Bias), Why do you not make Bias acquainted with the problems sent him from the King by Niloxenus this second time, that he may soberly and warily weigh them? Bias answered, I have been already scared with that news. I have known that Dionysos is otherwise a powerful God, and for his wisdom is termed λύσιος, that is, the interpreter; therefore I shall undertake it when my belly is full of wine. Thus they jested and reparteed and played one upon another all the while they sat at table. Observing the unwonted frugality of Periander at this time, I considered with myself that the entertainment of wise and good men is a piece of good husbandry, and that so far from enhancing a man's expenses in truth it serves to save charge, the charge (to wit) of costly foreign unguents and junkets, and the waste of the richest wines, which Periander's state and greatness required him every day in his ordinary treats to expend. Such costly provisions were useless here, and Periander's wisdom appeared in his frugality. Moreover, his lady had laid aside her richer habit, and appeared in an ordinary, but a very becoming dress. 

5  Supper now ended, and Melissa having distributed the garlands, we offered sacrifice; and when the minstrel had played us a tune or two, she withdrew. Then Ardalus enquired of Anacharsis, if there were women fiddlers at Scythia. He suddenly and smartly replied, There are no vines there. Ardalus asked a second question, whether the Scythians had any Gods among them. Yes, quoth Anacharsis, and they understand what men say to them; nor are the Scythians of the Grecian opinion (however these last may be the better orators), that the Gods are better pleased with the sounds of flutes and pipes than with the voice of men. My friend, saith Aesop, what would you say if you saw our present pipe-makers throw away the bones of fawns and hind-calves, to use those of asses, affirming they yield the sweeter and more melodious sound? Whereupon Cleobulina made one of her riddles about the Phrygian flute, . . . in regard to the sound, and wondered that an ass, a gross animal and no lover of music, should yet afford bones so fit for harmony. Therefore it is doubtless, quoth Niloxenus, that the people of Busiris accuse us Naucratians of folly for using pipes made of asses' bones, it being an insufferable fault in any of them to listen to the flute or cornet, the sound thereof being (as they esteem it) so like the braying of an ass; and you know an ass is hateful to the Egyptians on account of Typhon. 

6  There happening here a short silence, Periander, observing Niloxenus willing but not daring to speak, said: I cannot but commend the civility of those magistrates who give audience first to strangers and afterwards to their own citizens; wherefore I judge it convenient that we inhabitants and neighbors should proceed no farther at present in our discourse, and that now attention be given to those royal propositions sent us from Egypt, which the worthy Niloxenus is commissioned to deliver to Bias, who desires that he and we may scan and examine them together. And Bias said: For where or in what company would a man more joyfully adventure to give his opinion than here in this? And since it is his Majesty's pleasure that I should give my judgment first, in obedience to his commands I will do so, and afterwards they shall come to every one of you in order. Then Niloxenus delivered the paper to Bias, who broke up the seal and commanded it to be read in all their hearing. The contents were these: Amasis the king of Egypt, to Bias, the wisest of the Grecians, greeting. There is a contest between my brother of Ethiopia and myself about wisdom; and being baffled in divers other particulars, he now demands of me a thing absurd and impracticable; for he requires me to drink up the ocean dry. If I be able to read this his riddle, divers cities and towns now in his possession are to be annexed to my kingdom; but if I cannot resolve this hard sentence, and give him the right meaning thereof, he requires of me my right to all the towns bordering upon Elephantina. Consider with speed the premises, and let me receive your thoughts by Niloxenus. Pray lose no time. If in any thing I can be serviceable to your city or friends, you may command me. Farewell. Bias, having perused and for a little time meditated upon the letter, and whispering Cleobulus in the ear (he sat by him), exclaimed: What a narration is here, O Niloxenus! Will Amasis, who governs so many men and is seized of so many flourishing territories, drink up the ocean for the gain of a few paltry, beggarly villages? Niloxenus replied with a smile: Consider, good sir, what is to be done, if he will obey. Why then, said Bias, let Amasis require the Ethiopian king to stop the streams which from all parts flow and empty themselves in the ocean, until he have drunk out the whole remainder; for I conceive he means the present waters, not those which shall flow into it hereafter. Niloxenus was so overjoyed at this answer, that he could not contain himself. He hugged and kissed the author, and the whole company liked his opinion admirably well; and Chilo laughing desired Niloxenus to get aboard immediately before the sea was consumed, and tell his master he should mind more how to render his government sweet and potable to his people, than how to swallow such a quantity of salt water. For Bias, he told him, understands these things very well, and knows how to oblige your lord with very useful instructions, which if he vouchsafe to attend, he shall no more need a golden basin to wash his feet, to gain respect from his subjects; all will love and honor him for his virtue, though he were ten thousand times more hateful to them than he is. It were well and worthily done, quoth Periander, if all of us did pay him our first-fruits in this kind by the poll (as Homer said). Such a course would bring him an accession of profit greater than the whole profit of the voyage, besides being of no little use to ourselves. 

7  To this point it is fit that Solon should first speak, quoth Chilo, not only because he is the eldest in the company and therefore sits uppermost at table, but because he governs and gives laws to the amplest and most complete and flourishing republic in the world, that of Athens. Here Niloxenus whispered me in the ear: O Diocles, saith he, how many reports fly about and are believed, and how some men delight in lies which they either feign of their own heads or most greedily swallow from the mouths of others. In Egypt I heard it reported how Chilo had renounced all friendship and correspondence with Solon, because he maintained the mutability of laws. A ridiculous fiction, quoth I, for then he and we must have renounced Lycurgus, who changed the laws and indeed the whole government of Sparta. Solon, pausing awhile, gave his opinion in these words. I conceive that monarch, whether king or tyrant, were infinitely to be commended, who would exchange his monarchy for a commonwealth. Bias rejoined, And who would be first and foremost in conforming to the laws of his country. Thales added, I reckon that prince happy, who, being old, dies in his bed a natural death. Fourthly, Anacharsis, If he alone be a wise man. Fifthly, Cleobulus said, If he trust none of his courtiers. Sixthly, Pittacus spake thus, If he could cause his subjects to have fear not of him but for him. Lastly, Chilo concluded thus, A magistrate ought to have thoughts, purposes, and resolutions not mean and earthly, but divine and immortal. When all had given in their judgments upon this point, we requested Perianderhe would condescend to give the company the satisfaction to let them know his thoughts upon the same head. Disorder and discontent appearing in his countenance, he said, These opinions are enough to scare any wise man from affecting empire. These things, saith Aesop after his fault-finding way, ought rather to have been discussed privately among ourselves, lest we be accounted antimonarchical while we desire to be esteemed friends and loyal counsellors. Solon, gently clapping him upon the shoulder and smiling, answered: Do you not perceive that any one would make a king more moderate and a tyrant more favorable, who should persuade him that it is better not to reign than to reign? Then we must believe you before the oracle delivered unto you, quoth Aesop, which pronounced that city happy that heard but one crier. Yes, quoth Solon, and Athens, though now a commonwealth, hath but one crier and one magistrate, and that is the law, though the government be democratical; but you, my friend, have been so accustomed to the croaking of ravens and the prating of jays, that you do not hear your own voice. For you maintain it to be the happiness of a city to be under the command of one man, and yet account it the praise of a feast if liberty is allowed every man to speak his mind freely upon what subject he pleases. But you have not prohibited your servants' drunkenness, as you have forbidden them to love or to use dry ointments. Solonlaughed at this; but Cleodorus the physician said: To use dry ointment is like talking when a man is drenched with wine; both are very pleasant. Therefore, saith Chilo, it concerns men the more carefully to avoid it. Aesopproceeds, Thales seemed to imply that he should soon grow old. 

8  Periander said laughing: We suffer deservedly, for, before we have perfected our animadversions and remarks upon the letter, we are fallen upon disputes so strangely foreign to the matter under consideration; and therefore I pray, Niloxenus, read out the remainder of your lord's letter, and slip not this opportunity to receive what satisfaction all that are present shall be able to give you. The command of the king of Ethiopia, says Niloxenus, is no more and no less than (to use Archilochus's phrase) a broken scytale; that is, the meaning is inscrutable and cannot be found out. But your friend Amasis was more gentle and civil in his queries; for he commanded him only to resolve him what was most ancient, most beautiful, greatest, wisest, most common, and withal, what was most profitable, most pernicious, most strong, and most easy. Did he resolve and answer every one of these questions? He did, quoth Niloxenus, and do you judge of his answers and the soundness thereof: and it is my prince's purpose not to misrepresent his responses and condemn unjustly what he saith well, so, where he finds him under a mistake, not to suffer that to pass without correction. His answers to the foresaid questions I will read to you. — What is most ancient? Time. What is greatest? The World. What is wisest? Truth. What is most beautiful? The light. What is most common? Death. What is most profitable? God. What is most pernicious? An evil genius. What is strongest? Fortune. What is most easy? That which is pleasant. 

9  When Niloxenus had read out these answers, there was a short silence among them; by and by Thalesdesires Niloxenus to inform him if Amasis approved of these answers. Niloxenus said, he liked some and disliked others. There is not one of them right and sound, quoth Thales, but all are full of wretched folly and ignorance. As for instance, how can that be most ancient whereof part is past, part is now present, and part is yet to come; every man knows it is younger than ourselves and our actions. As to his answer that truth is the most wise thing, it is as incongruous as if he had affirmed the light to be an eye; if he judged the light to be the most beautiful, how could he overlook the sun; as to his solutions concerning the Gods and evil geniuses, they are full of presumption and peril. What he saith of Fortune is void of sense, for her inconstancy and fickleness proceeds from want of strength and power. Nor is death the most common thing; the living are still at liberty, it hath not arrested them. But lest we be censured as having a faculty to find fault only, we will lay down our opinions of these things, and compare them with those of the Ethiopian; and I offer myself first, if Niloxenus pleases, to deliver my opinion on every one singly, and I will relate both questions and answers in that method and order in which they were sent to Ethiopia and read to us. What is most ancient? Thales answered, God, for he had no beginning. What is greatest? Place; the world contains all other things, this surrounds and contains the world. What is most beautiful? The world; for whatever is framed artificially and methodically is a part of it. What is most wise? Time; for it has found out some things already, it will find out the rest in due time. What is most common? Hope; for they that want other things are masters of this. What is most profitable? Virtue; for by a right managery of other things she makes them all beneficial and advantageous. What is most pernicious? Vice; for it depraves the best things we enjoy. What is the most strong? Necessity; for this alone is insuperable. What is most easy? That which is most agreeable to nature; for pleasures themselves are sometimes tedious and nauseating. 

10  All the consult approved of Thales's solutions. Then Cleodemus said: My friend Niloxenus, it becomes kings to propound and resolve such questions; but the insolence of that barbarian who would have Amasis drink the sea would have been better fitted by such a smart reprimand as Pittacus gave Alyattes, who sent an imperious letter to the Lesbians. He made him no answer, except to bid him spend his time in eating his hot bread and onions. Periander here assumed the discourse, and said: It was the manner of the ancient Grecians heretofore, O Cleodemus, to propound doubts to one another; and it hath been told us, that the most famous and eminent poets once met at the grave of Amphidamas in Chalcis. This Amphidamas was a leading citizen, one that had perpetual wars with the Eretrians, and at last lost his life in one of the battles fought for the possession of the Lelantine plain. Now, because the writings of those poets were composed in verse, and so made the argument more knotty and the decision more difficult, and the great names of the antagonists, Homer and Hesiod, whose excellence was so well known, made the umpires timorous and shy to determine; they therefore betook themselves to these sorts of questions, and Homer, says Lesches, propounded this riddle: Tell me, O Muse, what never was And never yet shall be. Hesiod answered readily and extempore in this wise: When steeds with sounding hoof, to win The prize, shall run amain; And at the tomb of mighty Zeus Their chariots break in twain. For this reply he was infinitely commended and won the tripod. Pray tell me, quoth Cleodemus, what difference there is between these riddles and those of Eumetis, which she frames and invents to recreate herself with as much pleasure as other virgins make nets and girdles? They may be fit to offer and puzzle women withal; but for men to beat their brains to find out their mystery would be mighty ridiculous. Eumetis looked like one that had a great mind to reply; but her modesty would not permit her, for her face was filled with blushes. But Aesop in her vindication asked: Is it not much more ridiculous that all present cannot resolve the riddle she propounded to us before supper? This was as follows: A man I saw, who by his fire Did set a piece of brass Fast to a man, so that it seemed To him it welded was. Can you tell me, said he, how to construe this, and what the sense of it may be? No, said Cleodemus, nor do I care to know what it means. And yet, quoth Aesop, no man understands this thing better and practises it more judiciously and successfully than yourself. If you deny it, I have my witnesses ready; for there are your cupping-glasses. Cleodemus laughed outright; for of all the physicians in his time, none used cupping-glasses like him, he being a person that by his frequent and fortunate application thereof brought them first into request in the world. 

11  Mnesiphilus the Athenian, a friend and favorite of Solon's, said: O Periander, our discourse, as our wine, ought to be distributed not according to our power or priority, but freely and equally, as in a popular state; for what hath been already discoursed concerning kingdoms and empires signifies little to us who live in a democracy. Wherefore I judge it convenient that every one of you beginning with Solon, should freely and impartially declare his sense of a popular state. The motion pleased all the company; then saith Solon: My friend Mnesiphilus, you heard, together with the rest of this good company, my opinion concerning republics; but since you are willing to hear it again, I hold that city or state happy and most likely to remain democratic, in which those that are not personally injured are yet as forward to question and correct wrongdoers as that person who is more immediately wronged. Bias added, Where all fear the law as they fear a tyrant. Thirdly, Thales said, Where the citizens are neither too rich nor too poor. Fourthly, Anacharsis said, Where, though in all other respects they are equal, yet virtuous men are advanced and vicious persons degraded. Fifthly, Cleobulus said, Where the rulers fear reproof and shame more than the law. Sixthly, Pittacus said, Where bad men are prohibited from ruling, and good men from not ruling. Chilo, pausing a little while, determined that the best and most durable state was where the subject minded the law most and the orators least. Periander concluded with his opinion, that all of them would best approve that democracy which came next and was likest to an arisocracy. 

12  When they had ended this discourse, I begged they would condescend to direct me how to govern a house; for they were few who had cities and kingdoms to govern, compared with those who had houses and families to manage. Aesop laughed and said: I hope you except Anacharsis out of your number; for having no house, he glories because he can be contented with a chariot only, as they say the sun is whirled about from one end of the heavens to the other in his chariot. Therefore, saith Anacharsis, he alone, or he principally, is most free among the Gods, and ever at his own liberty and dispose. He governs all, and is governed and subject to none, but he rides and reigns; and you know not how magnificent and capacious his chariot is; if you did, you would not thus floutingly compare it with our Scythian chariots. For you seem in my apprehension to call these coverings made of wood and mud houses, as if you should call the shell and not the living creature a snail. Therefore you laughed when Solontold you how, when he viewed Croesus's palace and found it richly and gloriously furnished, he yet could not yield he lived happily until he had tried the inward and invisible state of his mind; for a man's felicity consists not in the outward and visible favors and blessings of Fortune, but in the inward and unseen perfections and riches of the mind. And you seem to have forgot your own fable of the fox, who, contending with the leopard as to which was beset with more colors and spots, and having referred the matter in controversy to the arbitration of an umpire, desired him to consider not so much the outside as the inside; for, saith he, I have more various and different fetches and tricks in my mind than he has marks or spots in his body. You regard only the handiwork of carpenters and masons and stone-cutters, and call this a house; not what one hath within, his children, his wife, his friends and attendants, with whom if a man lived in an emmet's bed or a bird's nest, enjoying in common the ordinary comforts of life, this man may be affirmed to live a happy and a fortunate life. This is the answer I purpose to return Aesop, quoth Anacharsis, and I tender it to Diocles as my share in this discourse; only let the rest give in their opinions, if they please. Solon thought that house most happy where the estate was got without injustice, kept without distrust, and spent without repentance. Bias said, That house is happy where the master does freely and voluntarily at home what the law compels him to do abroad. Thales held that house most happy where the master had most leisure and respite from business. Cleobulus said, That in which the master is more beloved than feared. Pittacus said, That is most happy where superfluities are not required and necessaries are not wanting. Chilo added, That house is most happy where the master rules as a monarch in his kingdom. And he proceeded, When a certain Lacedemoniandesired Lycurgus to establish a democracy in the city, Go you, friend, replied he, and try the experiment first in your own house. 

13  When they had all given in their opinions upon this point, Eumetis and Melissa withdrew. Then Periandercalled for a large bowl full of wine, and drank to Chilo; and Chilo likewise drank to Bias. Ardalus then standing up called to Aesop, and said: Will you not hand the cup to your friends at this end of the table, when you behold those persons there swilling up all that good liquor, and imparting none to us here, as if the cup were that of Bathycles. But this cup, quoth Aesop, is no public cup, it hath stood so long by Solon's trenchard. Then Pittacus called to Mnesiphilus: Why, saith he, does not Solon drink, but act in contradiction to his own verses? I love that ruby God, whose blessings flow In tides, to recreate my thirsty maw; Aphrodite I court, the Muses I adore, Who give us wine and pleasures evermore. Anacharsis rejoined: He fears your severe law, my friend Pittacus, wherein you decreed the drunkard a double punishment. You seem, said Pittacus, a little to fear the penalty, who have adventured heretofore, and now again before my face, to break that law and to demand a crown for the reward of your debauch. Why not, quoth Anacharsis, when there is a reward promised to the hardest drinker? Why should I not demand my reward, having drunk down all my fellows? — or inform me of any other end men drive at in drinking much wine, but to be drunk. Pittacus laughed at this reply, and Aesop told them this fable: The wolf seeing a parcel of shepherds in their booth feeding upon a lamb, approaching near them, — What a bustle and noise and uproar would you have made, saith he, if I had but done what you do! Chilo said: Aesop hath very justly revenged himself upon us, who awhile ago stopped his mouth; now he observes how we prevented Mnesiphilus's discourse, when the question was put why Solon did not drink up his wine. Mnesiphilus then spake to this effect: I know this to be the opinion of Solon, that in every art and faculty, divine and human, the work which is done is more desired than the instrument wherewith it is done, and the end than the means conducing to that end; as, for instance, a weaver thinks a cloak or coat more properly his work than the ordering of his shuttles or the divers motions of his beams. A smith minds the soldering of his irons and the sharpening of the axe more than those little things preparatory to these main matters, as the kindling of the coals and getting ready the stone-dust. Yet farther, a carpenter would justly blame us, if we should affirm it is not his work to build houses or ships but to bore holes or to make mortar; and the Muses would be implacably incensed with him that should say their business is only to make harps, pipes, and such musical instruments, not the institution and correction of manners and the government of those men's passions who are lovers of singing and masters of music. And agreeably copulation is not the work of Aphrodite, nor is drunkenness that of Dionysos; but love and friendship, affection and familiarity, which are begot and improved by the means of these. Solon terms these works divine, and he professes he loves and now prosecutes them in his declining years as vigorously as ever in his youthful days. That mutual love between man and wife is the work of Aphrodite, the greatness of the pleasure affecting their bodies mixes and melts their very souls; divers others, having little or no acquaintance before, have yet contracted a firm and lasting friendship over a glass of wine, which like fire softened and melted their tempers, and disposed them for a happy union. But in such a company, and of such men as Periander hath invited, there is no need of can and chalice, but the Muses themselves throwing a subject of discourse among you, as it were a sober cup, wherein is contained much of delight and drollery and seriousness too, do hereby provoke, nourish, and increase friendship among you, suffering the can to rest quietly upon the bowl, contrary to the rule which Hesiod gives for those who have more skill for carousing than for discoursing. Though all the rest with stated rules we bound, Unmix'd, unmeasured, are thy goblets crown'd:" for it was the old Greek way, as Homer here tells us, to drink one to another in course and order. So Ajax gave a share of his meat to his next neighbor. When Mnesiphilus had discoursed after this manner, in comes Chersias the poet, whom Periander had lately pardoned and received into favor upon Chilo's mediation. Saith Chersias: Does not Zeus distribute to the Gods their proportion and dividend sparingly and severally, as Agamemnon did to his commanders when his guests drank to one another? If, O Chersias, quoth Cleodemus, as you narrate, certain doves bring him his ambrosia every meal, flying with a world of hardship through the rocks called Planctae (or wandering), can you blame him for his sparingness and frugality and dealing out to his guests by measure? 

14  I am satisfied, quoth Chersias, and since we are fallen upon our old discourse of housekeeping, which of the company can remember what remains to be said thereof? There remains, if I mistake not, to show what that measure is which may content any man. Cleobulus answered: The law has prescribed a measure for wise men; but as touching fools, I will tell you a story I once heard my mother relate to my brother. On a certain time the moon begged of her mother a coat that would fit her. How can that be done, quoth the mother, for sometimes you are full, sometimes the one-half of you seems lost and perished, sometimes only a pair of horns appear. So, my Chersias, to the desires of a foolish immoderate man no certain measure can be fitted; for, according to the ebbings and flowings of his lust and appetite, and the frequent or seldom casualties that befall him, accordingly his necessities ebb or flow, not unlike Aesop's dog, who, being pinched and ready to starve with cold in winter, was of mind to build himself a house; but when summer came on, he lay all along upon the ground, and stretching himself in the sun thought himself monstrous big, and thought it a needless thing and besides no small piece of work to build him a house proportionable to that bulk and bigness. And do you not observe, O Chersias, continues he, many poor men, — how one while they pinch their bellies, upon what short commons they live, how sparing and niggardly and miserable they are; and another while you may observe the same men as distrustful and covetous withal, as if the plenty of city and country, the riches of king and kingdom were not sufficient to preserve them from want and beggary. When Chersias had concluded this discourse, Cleodemus began thus: We see you that are wise men possessing these outward goods after an unequal manner. Good sweet sir, answered Cleobulus, the law weaver-like hath distributed to every man a fitting, decent, adequate portion, and in your profession your reason does what the law does here, — when you feed, or diet, or physic your patient, you give not an equal quantity to all, but what you judge to be convenient for each in his circumstances. Ardalus enquires: I pray what law compels our friend and Solon's host, Epimenides, to abstain from all other victuals, and to content himself with a little composition of his own, which the Greeks call ἄλιμος (hunger-relieving)? This he takes into his mouth and chews, and eats neither dinner nor supper. This instance obliged the whole company to be a little while silent, until Thales in a jesting way replied, that Epimenides did very wisely, for hereby he saved the trouble and charge of grinding and boiling his food, as Pittacus did. I myself sojourning at Lesbos overheard my landlady, as she was very busy at her hand-mill, singing as she used to do at her work, "Grind mill; grind mill; for even Pittacus, the prince of great Mitylene, grinds." Quoth Solon Ardalus, I wonder you have not read the law of Epimenides's frugality in Hesiod's writings, who prescribes him and others this spare diet; for he was the person that gratified Epimenides with the seeds of this nutriment, when he directed him to enquire how great benefit a man might receive by mallows and asphodel. Do you believe, said Periander, that Hesiod meant this literally; or rather that, being himself a great admirer of parsimony, he hereby intended to exhort men to use a mean and spare diet, as most healthful and pleasant? For the chewing of mallows is very wholesome, and the stalk of asphodel is very luscious; but this "expeller of hunger and thirst" I take to be rather physic than natural food, consisting of honey and I know not what barbarian cheese, and of many and costly seeds fetched from foreign parts. If to make up this composition so many ingredients were requisite, and so difficult to come by and so expensive, Hesiod might as well have kept his breath to cool his pottage, and never blessed the world with the discovery. And yet I admire how your host, when he went to perform the great purification for the Delians not long since, could overlook the monuments and patterns of the first aliment which the people brought into the shrine, — and, among other cheap fruits such as grow of themselves, the mallows and the asphodel; the usefulness and innocency whereof Hesiod seemed in his work to magnify. Not only that, quoth Anacharsis, but he affirms both plants to be great restoratives. You are in the right, quoth Cleodemus; for it is evident Hesiod was no ordinary physician, who could discourse so learnedly and judiciously of diet, of the nature of wines, and of the virtue of waters and baths, and of women, the proper times for procreation, and the site and position of infants in the womb; insomuch, that (as I take it) Aesop deserves much more the name of Hesiod's scholar and disciple than Epimenides, whose great and excellent wisdom the fable of the nightingale and hawk demonstrates. But I would gladly hear Solon's opinion in this matter; for having sojourned long at Athens and being familiarly acquainted with Epimenides, it is more than probable he might learn of him the grounds upon which he accustomed himself to so spare a diet. 

15  To what purpose, said Solon, should I trouble him or myself to make enquiry in a matter so plain? For if it be a blessing next to the greatest to need little victuals, then it is the greatest felicity to need none at all. If I may have leave to deliver my opinion, quoth Cleodemus, I must profess myself of a different judgment, especially now we sit at table; for as soon as the meat is taken away, we have removed what belongs to those Gods that are the patrons of friendship and hospitality. As upon the removal of the earth, quoth Thales, there must needs follow an universal confusion of all things, so in forbidding men meat, there must needs follow the dispersion and dissolution of the family, the sacred fire, the cups, the feasts and entertainments, which are the principal and most innocent diversions of mankind; and so all the comforts of society are at end. For to men of business some recreation is necessary, and the preparation and use of victuals conduces much thereunto. Again, to be without victuals would tend to the destruction of husbandry, for want whereof the earth would soon be overgrown with weeds, and through the sloth of men overflowed with waters. And together with this, all arts would fail which are supported and encouraged hereby; nay, more, take away hospitality and the use of victuals, and the worship and honor of the Gods will sink and perish; the sun will have but small and the moon yet smaller reverence, if they afford men only light and heat. And who will build an altar or offer sacrifice to Zeus Pluvius, or to Demeter the patroness of husbandmen, or to Poseidon the preserver of plants and trees? Or how can Dionysos be any longer termed the donor of all good things, if men make no further use of the good things he gives? What shall men sacrifice? What first-fruits shall they offer? In short, the subversion and confusion of the greatest blessings attend this opinion. Promiscuously and indefatigably to pursue all sorts of pleasures I own to be brutish, and to avoid all with a suitable aversion equally blockish; let the mind then freely enjoy such pleasures as are agree able to its nature and temper. But for the body, there is certainly no pleasure more harmless and commendable and fitting than that which springs from a plentiful table, — which is granted by all men; for, placing this in the middle, men converse with one another and share in the provision. As to the pleasures of the bed, men use these in the dark, reputing the use thereof no less shameful and beastly than the total disuse of the pleasures of the table. Cleodemus having finished this long harangue, I began to this effect. You omit one thing, my friend, how they that decry food decry sleep too, and they that declaim against sleep declaim against dreams in the same breath, and so destroy the primitive and ancient way of divination. Add to this, that our whole life will be of one form and fashion, and our soul enclosed in a body to no purpose; many and those the principal parts thereof are naturally so formed and fashioned as to be organs of nutriment; so the tongue, the teeth, the stomach, and the liver, whereof none are idle, none framed for other use, so that whosoever hath no need of nutriment has no need of his body; that is, in other words, no man hath any need of himself, for every man hath a body of his own. This I have thought fit to offer in vindication of our bellies; if Solon or any other has any thing to object to what I have said, I am willing to hear him. 

16  Yea, doubtless, replies Solon, or we may be reputed more injudicious than the Egyptians. For when any person dies among them, they open him and show him so dissected to the sun; his guts they throw into the river, to the remaining parts they allow a decent burial, for they think the body now pure and clean; and to speak truly, they are the foulest parts of the body, and like that lower hell crammed with dead carcasses and at the same time flowing with offensive rivers, such as flame with fire and are disturbed with tempests. No live creature feeds upon another living creature, but we first take away their lives, and in that action we do them great wrong; forasmuch as whatsoever is transmuted and turned into another loseth the nature which it had before, and is corrupted that it may become nourishment to the others. Now the very plants have life in them, — that is clear and manifest, for we perceive they grow and spread. But to abstain from eating flesh (as they say Orpheus of old did) is more a pretence than a real avoiding of an injury proceeding from the just use of meat. One way there is, and but one way, whereby a man may avoid offence, namely by being contented with his own, not coveting what belongs to his neighbor. But if a man's circumstances be such and so hard that he cannot subsist without wronging another man, the fault is God's, not his. The case being such with some persons, I would fain learn if it be not advisable to destroy, at the same time with injustice, these instruments of injustice, the belly, stomach, and liver, which have no sense of justice or appetite to honesty, and therefore may be fitly compared to your cook's implements, his knives and his caldrons, or to a baker's chimney and bins and kneading-tubs. Verily one may observe the souls of some men confined to their bodies, as to a house of correction, barely to do the drudgery and to serve the necessities thereof. It was our own case but even now. While we minded our meat and our bellies, we had neither eyes to see nor ears to hear; but now the table is taken away, we are free to discourse among ourselves and to enjoy one another; and now our bellies are full, we have nothing else to do or care for. And if this condition and state wherein we at present are would last our whole life, we having no wants to fear nor riches to covet (for a desire of superfluities attends a desire of necessaries), would not our lives be much more comfortable and life itself much more desirable? Yea, but Cleodemus stiffly maintains the necessity of eating and drinking, else we shall want tables and cups, and shall not be able to sacrifice to Demeter and Proserpina. By a parity of reason there is a necessity there should be contentions and wars, that men may have bulwarks and citadels and fortifications by land, fleets and navies abroad at sea, and that having slain hundreds, we may offer sacrifices (called Hecatomphonia) after the Messenianmanner. By this reason we shall find men grudging their own health, for (they will say) there will be no need of down or feather beds unless they are sick; and so those healing Gods, and particularly Esculapius, will be vast sufferers, for they will infallibly lose so many fat and rich sacrifices yearly. Nay, the art of chirurgery will perish, and all those ingenious instruments that have been invented for the cure of man will lie by useless and insignificant. And what great difference is there between this and that? For meat is a medicine against hunger, and such as keep a regular diet are said to cure themselves, — I mean such as use meat not for wantonness but of necessity. For it is plain, the prejudices we receive by feeding far surmount the pleasures. And the pleasure of eating fills a very little place in our bodies and very little time. But why should I trouble you or myself with a catalogue of the many vexations which attend that man who is necessitated to provide for a family, and the many difficulties which distract him in his undertaking? For my part, I verily believe Homer had an eye to this very thing, when, to prove the immortality of the Gods, he made use of this very argument, that they were such because they used no victuals; For not the bread of man their life sustains, Nor wine's inflaming juice supplies their veins;" intimating meat to be the cause of death as well as the means of sustaining and supporting life. From hence proceed divers fatal distempers caused much more by fulness than by fasting; and to digest what we have eaten proves frequently a harder matter than to provide and procure what we eat. And when we solicitously enquire beforehand what we should do or how we should employ ourselves if we had not such care and business to take up our time, this is as if Danaus's daughters should trouble their heads to know what they should do if they had no sieves to fill with water. We drudge and toil for necessaries, for want of better and nobler business. As slaves then who have gained their freedom do now and then those drudgeries and discharge those servile employments and offices for their own benefit which they undertook heretofore for their masters' advantage, so the mind of man, which at present is enslaved to the body and the service thereof, when once it becomes free from this slavery, will take care of itself, and spend its time in contemplation of truth without distraction or disturbance. Such were our discourses upon this head, O Nicarchus. 

17  And before Solon had fully finished, in came Gorgias, Periander's brother, who was just returned from Taenarum, whither he had been sent by the advice of the oracle to sacrifice to Poseidon and to conduct a deputation. Upon his entrance we welcomed him home; and Periander having among the rest saluted him, Gorgiassat by him upon a bed, and privately whispered something to his brother which we could not hear. Periander by his various gestures and motions discovered different affections; sometimes he seemed sad and melancholic, by and by disturbed and angry; frequently he looked as doubtful and distrustful men use to do; awhile after he lifts up his eyes as is usual with men in a maze. At last recovering himself, saith he, I have a mind to impart to you the contents of this embassy; but I scarce dare do it, remembering Thales's aphorism, how things impossible or incredible are to be concealed and only things credible and probable are to be related. Bias answered, I crave leave to explain Thales's saying, We may distrust enemies, even though they speak things credible, and trust friends, even though they relate things incredible; and I suppose by enemies he meant vicious men and foolish, and by friends, wise and good men. Then, brother Gorgias, quoth Periander, I pray relate the whole story particularly. 

18  Gorgias in obedience to his brother's command began his story thus: When we had fasted now for three days and offered sacrifice upon each of those days, we were all resolved to sit up the third night and spend it in pastime and dancing. The moon shone very bright upon the water, and the sea was exceeding calm and still; this we saw, for we sported ourselves upon the shore. Being thus taken up, all of a sudden we espied a wonderful spectacle off at sea, making with incredible expedition to the adjoining promontory. The violence of the motion made the sea foam again, and the noise was so loud, that the whole company forsook their sport and ran together toward the place, admiring what the matter should be. Before we could make a full discovery of the whole, the motion was so rapid, we perceived divers dolphins, some swimming in a ring or circle, others hastening amain to that part of the shore which was most smooth, and others following after and (as it were) bringing up the rear. In the middle there was a certain heap which we could perceive above the water; but we could not distinctly apprehend what it was, till drawing near the shore we saw all the dolphins flocking together, and having made near the land they safely surrendered their charge, and left out of danger a man breathing and shaking himself. They returned to the promontory, and there seemed to rejoice more than before for this their fortunate undertaking. Divers in the company were affrighted and ran away; myself and a few more took courage, and went on to see and satisfy ourselves what this unusual matter might be; there we found and instantly knew our old acquaintance Arion the musician, who told us his name. He wore that very garment he used when he strove for mastery. We brought him into our tent and found he had received no damage in his passage, save only a little lassitude by the violence of the motion. He told us the whole story of his adventure, — a story incredible to all but such as saw it with their eyes. He told us how, when he had determined to leave Italy, being hastened away by Periander's letters, he went aboard a Corinthian merchantman then in port and ready to sail; being off at sea with the winds favorable, he observed the seamen bent to ruin him, and the master of the vessel told him as much, and that they purposed to execute their design upon him that very night. In this distress, the poor man (as if inspired by his good Genius) girds about him his heretofore victorious, now his funeral cloak, with a brave resolution to compose and sing his own epitaph, as the swans when they apprehend the approaches of death are reported to do. Being thus habited, he told the seamen he was minded to commit the protection of himself and his fellow-passengers to the providence of the Gods in a Pythian song; then standing upon the poop near the side of the vessel, and having invoked the help and assistance of all the sea Gods, he strikes up briskly and sings to his harp. Before he had half finished his carol, the sun set, and he could discern Peloponnesus before him. The seamen thought it tedious to tarry for the night, wherefore they resolved to murder him immediately, to which purpose they unsheathed their swords. Seeing this, and beholding the master standing with his face covered, he leaped into the sea as far as he could; but before his body sunk he found himself supported by dolphins. At first he was surprised with care and trouble; but by and by, finding himself marching forward with much ease and security, and observing a whole shoal of dolphins flocking about him and joyfully contending which should appear most forward and serviceable in his preservation, and discerning the vessel at a considerable distance behind, he apprehended the nimbleness of his porters; then, and not till then, his fears forsook him, and he professed he was neither so fearful of death nor desirous of life as he was full of ambitious desire to reach the haven of safety, that he might show to all men that he stood in the grace and favor of the Gods, and that he might himself believe more firmly than ever before in their being and goodness. In his passage, as he lifted up his eyes toward heaven, and beheld the stars glittering and twinkling and the moon full and glorious, and the sea calm all about her as she seemed to rise out of it, and yielding him (as it were) a beaten track; he declared, he thought God's justice had more eyes than one, and that with these many eyes the Gods beheld what was acted here below both by sea and land. With such contemplations he performed his voyage less anxiously, which much abated the tediousness thereof and was a comfort and refreshment to him in his solitude and danger. At last, arriving near the promontory which was both steep and high, and fearing danger in a straight course and direct line, they unanimously veered about, and making to shore with a little compass for security, they delivered Arion to us in safety, so that he plainly perceived and with thanks acknowledged a Providence. When Arion had finished this narrative of his escape, I asked him (quoth Gorgias) whither the ship was bound; he told me for Corinth, but it would not be there very suddenly, for when he leaped out of the ship and was carried (as he conceived) about five hundred furlongs, he perceived a calm, which must needs much retard their arrival who were aboard. Gorgiasadded that, having learned the names of the pilot and master and the colors of the ship, he immediately despatched out ships and soldiers to examine all the ports, all this while keeping Arion concealed, lest the criminals should upon notice of his deliverance escape the pursuit of justice. This action happened very luckily, as if it were directed by the power of the Gods; for as soon as he arrived at Corinth, news was brought him that the same ship was in port, and that his party had seized it and secured all the men, merchants and others. Whereupon Periandercommended Gorgias's discretion and zeal, desiring him to proceed and lose no time, but immediately to clap them in close prison, and to suffer none to come at them to give the least notice of Arion's miraculous escape. 

19  Gentlemen, quoth Aesop, I remember you derided my dialogue of the daws and crows; and now you can admire and believe as improbable a story of dolphins. You are mightily out, said I, for this is no new story which we believe, but it is recorded in the annals of Ino and Athamas above a thousand years ago. These passages are supernatural, quoth Solon, and much above our reason; what befell Hesiod is of a lower kind, and more proper for our discourse, and if you have not heard of it before, it is worth your hearing. Hesiod was once entertained at the same house in Locris with a certain Milesian. In this his sojourning time it happened the gentleman's daughter was got with child by the Milesian; which being discovered, the whole family concluded Hesiod, if not guilty, must be privy to the fact. His innocence was but a weak fence against their jealousy and aspersions; and therefore, rashly censuring him guilty, the brothers of the woman waylaid him in his return home, and slew him and his companion Troilus near the sanctuary of Nemean Zeus in Locris. Their carcasses they threw into the sea; that of Troilus was carried into the river Daphnus, and rested upon a certain rock compassed with waters, just above the surface of the sea, which rock bears his name to this day. The body of Hesiod was no sooner fallen upon the surface of the water, but a company of dolphins received it, and conveyed it to Rhium and Molycria. It happened the Locrians were assembled at Rhium that day to feast and make merry, according to the custom which continues still among them. As soon as they perceived a carcass floating or rather swimming towards them, they hastened, not without admiration, to see what it was; and knowing the body to be Hesiod's, they instantly resolved to find out the murderers. It proved an easy discovery. After conviction they threw them headlong alive into the sea, and ordered their houses to be demolished to the very foundations. The body they buried by the Nemean sanctuary, that no foreigner might find it out; the reason of this act was that the Orchomenians had searched far and near for it at the instigation of the oracle, who promised them the greatest felicity if they could get the bones of Hesiod and bury them in their city. Now if dolphins are so favorable to dead men, it is very probable they have a strong affection for the living, especially for such as delight in music, whether vocal or instrumental. And this we know undoubtedly, that these creatures delight infinitely in music; they love it, and if any man sings or plays as he sails along in fair weather, they will quietly swim by the side of the ship, and listen till the music is ended. When children bathe in the water and sport themselves, you shall have a parcel of them flock together and sport and swim by them; and they may do it the more securely, since it is a breach of the law of Nature to hurt them. You never heard of any man that fishes for them purposely or hurts them wilfully, unless falling into the nets they spoil the sport, and so, like naughty children, are corrected for their misdemeanors. I very well remember the Lesbians told me how a maid of their town was preserved from drowning by them. 

20  It was a very true story, quoth Pittacus, and there are various still alive who will attest it, if need be. The builders or founders of Lesbos were commanded by the oracle to sail till they came to a haven called Mesogaion, there they should sacrifice a bull to Poseidon, and for the honor of Amphitrite and the sea-nymphs they should offer a virgin. The principal persons in this colony were seven in number; the eighth was one Echelaus by name, and appointed head of the rest by the oracle himself; and he was a bachelor. A daughter of one of these seven was to be sacrificed, but who it should be was to be decided by lot, and the lot fell upon Smintheus's sister. Her they dressed most richly, and so apparelled they conveyed her in abundance of state to the water-side, and having composed a prayer for her, they were now ready to throw her overboard. There was in the company a certain ingenuous young gentleman whose name was Enalus; he was desperately in love with this young lady, and his love prompted him to endeavor all he could for her preservation, or at least to perish in the attempt. In the very moment she was to be cast away, he clasps her in his arms and throws himself and her together into the sea. Shortly after there was a flying report they were both conveyed safe to land. A while after Enalus was seen at Lesbos, who gave out they were preserved by dolphins. I could tell you stories more incredible than these, such as would amuse some and please others; but it is impossible to command men's faith. The sea was so tempestuous and rough, the people were afraid to come too near the waters, when Enalus arrived. A number of octopuses followed him even to Poseidon's sanctuary, the biggest and strongest of which carried a great stone. This Enalus dedicated, and this stone is therefore called Enalus to this day. To be short and to speak all in a few words, — he that knows how to distinguish between the impossible and the unusual, to make a difference between the unlikely and the absurd, to be neither too credulous nor too distrustful, — he hath learned your lesson, Do not overdo." 

21  Anacharsis after all this discourse spake to this purpose: Since Thales has asserted the being of a soul in all the principal and most noble parts of the universe, it is no wonder that the most commendable acts are governed by an over-ruling Power; for, as the body is the organ of the soul, so the soul is an instrument in the hand of God. Now as the body has many motions of its own proceeding from itself, but the best and most from the soul, so the soul acts some things by its own power, but in most things it is subordinate to the will and power of God, whose glorious instrument it is. To me it seems highly unreasonable — and I should be but too apt to censure the wisdom of the Gods, if I were convinced — that they use fire, and water, and wind, and clouds, and rain for the preservation and welfare of some and for the detriment and destruction of others, while at the same time they make no use of living creatures that are doubtless more serviceable to their ends than bows are to the Scythians or harps or pipes to the Greeks. Chersias the poet broke off this discourse, and told the company of divers that were miraculously preserved to his certain knowledge, and more particularly of Cypselus, Periander's father, who being newly born, his adversary sent a party of bloody fellows to murder him. They found the child in his nurse's arms, and seeing him smile innocently upon them, they had not the heart to hurt him, and so departed; but presently recalling themselves and considering the peremptoriness of their orders, they returned and searched for him, but could not find him, for his mother had hid him very carefully in a chest. When he came to years of discretion, and understood the greatness of his former danger and deliverance, he consecrated a chapel at Delphi to Apollo, by whose care he conceived himself preserved from crying in that critical time, and by his cries from betraying his own life. Pittacus, addressing his discourse to Periander, said: It is well done of Chersias to make mention of that chapel, for this brings to my mind a question I several times purposed to ask you but still forgot, namely, — To what intent all those frogs were carved upon the palm-tree before the door, and how they affect either the Deity or the dedicator? Periander remitted him to Chersias for answer, as a person better versed in these matters, for he was present when Cypselus consecrated the chapel. But Chersias smiling would not satisfy them, until they resolved him the meaning of these aphorisms; "Do not overdo," "Know thyself," but particularly and principally this, — which had scared divers from wedlock and others from suretyship and others from speaking at all, — "Promise, and you are ruined." What need we to explain to you these, when you yourself have so mightily magnified Aesop's comment upon each of them. Aesop replied: When Chersias is disposed to jest with me upon these subjects, and to jest in earnest, he is pleased to father such sayings and sentences upon Homer, who, bringing in Hector furiously flying upon others, yet at another time represents him as flying from Ajax son of Telamon, — an argument that Hectorknew himself. And Homer made Ulysses approve the saying "Do not overdo," when he besought his friend Diomedes not to commend him too much nor yet to censure him too much. And for suretyship he exposes it as a matter unsafe, nay highly dangerous, saying that to be bound for idle and wicked men is full of hazard. To confirm this, Chersias reported how Zeus had thrown Ate headlong out of heaven, because she was by when he made the promise about the birth of Hercules whereby he was circumvented. Here Solon interrupted: I am of this mind, that we now give ear to the most wise Homer: But now the night extends her awful shade: The Goddess parts you: be the night obeyed. If it please the company then, let us sacrifice to the Muses, to Poseidon, and to Amphitrite, and so bid each adieu for this night. This was the conclusion of that meeting, my dear Nicarchus.

1  Our great ignorance of the Divine Beings most naturally runs in two streams; whereof the one in harsh and coarse tempers, as in dry and stubborn soils, produces atheism, and the other in the more tender and flexible, as in moist and yielding grounds, produces superstition. Indeed, every wrong judgment, in matters of this nature especially, is a great unhappiness to us; but it is here attended with a passion, or disorder of the mind, of a worse consequence than itself. For every such passion is, as it were, an error inflamed. And as a dislocation is the more painful when it is attended with a bruise, so are the perversions of our understandings, when attended with passion. Is a man of opinion that atoms and a void were the first origins of things? It is indeed a mistaken conceit, but makes no ulcer, no shooting, no searching pain. But is a man of opinion that wealth is his last good? This error contains in it a canker; it preys upon a man's spirits, it transports him, it suffers him not to sleep, it makes him horn-mad, it carries him over headlong precipices, strangles him, and makes him unable to speak his mind. Are there some again, that take virtue and vice for substantial bodies? This may be sottish conceit indeed, but yet it bespeaks neither lamentations nor groans. But such opinions and conceits as these: Poor virtue! thou wast but a name, and mere jest, And I, choust fool, did practise thee in earnest, and for thee have I quitted injustice, the way to wealth, and excess, the parent of all true pleasure, — these are the thoughts that call at once for our pity and indignation; for they will engender swarms of diseases, like fly-blows and vermin, in our minds. 

2  To return then to our subject, atheism, which is a false persuasion that there are no blessed and incorruptible beings, tends yet, by its disbelief of a Divinity, to bring men to a sort of unconcernedness and indifferency of temper; for the design of those that deny a God is to ease themselves of his fear. But superstition appears by its appellation to be a distempered opinion and conceit, productive of such mean and abject apprehensions as debase and break a man's spirit, while he thinks there are divine powers indeed, but withal sour and vindictive ones. So that the atheist is not at all, and the superstitiousis perversely, affected with the thoughts of God; ignorance depriving the one of the sense of his goodness, and superadding to the other a persuasion of his cruelty. Atheism then is but false reasoning single, but superstition is a disorder of the mind produced by this false reasoning. 

3  Every distemper of our minds is truly base and ignoble; yet some passions are accompanied with a sort of levity, that makes men appear gay, prompt, and erect; but none, we may say, are wholly destitute of force for action. But the common charge upon all sorts of passions is, that they excite and urge the reason, forcing it by their violent stings. Fear alone, being equally destitute of reason and audacity, renders our whole irrational part stupid, distracted, and unserviceable. Therefore it is called δεῖμα because it binds, and τάϱβος because it distracts the mind. But of all fears, none so dozes and confounds as that of superstition. He fears not the sea that never goes to sea; nor a battle, that follows not the camp; nor robbers, that stirs not abroad; nor malicious informers, that is a poor man; nor emulation, that leads a private life; nor earthquakes, that dwells in Gaul; nor thunderbolts, that dwells in Ethiopia: but he that dreads divine powers dreads every thing, the land, the sea, the air, the sky, the dark, the light, a sound, a silence, a dream. Even slaves forget their masters in their sleep; sleep lightens the irons of the fettered; their angry sores, mortified gangrenes, and pinching pains allow them some intermission at night. Dear sleep, sweet easer of my irksome grief, Pleasant thou art! how welcome thy relief!" Superstition will not permit a man to say this. That alone will give no truce at night, nor suffer the poor soul so much as to breathe or look up, or respite her sour and dismal thoughts of God a moment; but raises in the sleep of the superstitious, as in the place of the damned, certain prodigious forms and ghastly spectres, and perpetually tortures the unhappy soul, chasing her out of sleep into dreams, lashed and tormented by her own self, as by some other, and charged by herself with dire and portentous injunctions. Neither have they, when awake, enough sense to slight and smile at all this, or to be pleased with the thought that nothing of all that terrified them was real; but they still fear an empty shadow, that could never mean them any ill, and cheat themselves afresh at noonday, and keep a bustle, and are at expense upon the next fortune-teller or vagrant that shall but tell them: If in a dream hobgoblin thou hast seen, Or felt'st the rambling guards o' th' Fairy Queen, send for some old witch who can purify thee, go dip thyself in the sea, and then sit down upon the bare ground the rest of the day. O that our Greeks should found such barbarous rites," as tumbling in mire, rolling themselves in dunghills, keeping of Sabbaths, monstrous prostrations, long and obstinate sittings in a place, and vile and abject adorations, and all for vain superstition! They that were careful to preserve good singing used to direct the practisers of that science to sing with their mouths in their true and proper postures. Should not we then admonish those that would address themselves to the heavenly powers to do that also with a true and natural mouth, lest, while we are so solicitous that the tongue of a sacrifice be pure and right, we distort and abuse our own with silly and canting language, and thereby expose the dignity of our divine and ancient piety to contempt and raillery? It was not unpleasantly said somewhere by the comedian to those that adorned their beds with the needless ornaments of silver and gold: Since the Gods have given us nothing gratis except sleep, why will you make that so costly? It might as well be said to the superstitious bigot: Since the Gods have bestowed sleep on us, to the intent we may take some rest and forget our sorrows, why will you needs make it a continual irksome tormentor, when you know your poor soul hath ne'er another sleep to betake herself to? Heraclitus saith: They who are awake have a world in common amongst them; but they that are asleep are retired each to his own private world. But the frightful visionary hath ne'er a world at all, either in common with others or in private to himself; for neither can he use his reason when awake, nor be free from his fears when asleep; but he hath his reason always asleep, and his fears always awake; nor hath he either an hiding-place or refuge. 

4  Polycrates was formidable at Samos, and so was Periander at Corinth; but no man ever feared either of them that had made his escape to an equal and free government. But he that dreads the divine government, as a sort of inexorable and implacable tyranny, whither can he remove? Whither can he fly? What land, what sea can he find where God is not? Wretched and miserable man! in what corner of the world canst thou so hide thyself, as to think thou hast now escaped him? Slaves are allowed by the laws, when they despair of obtaining their freedom, to demand a second sale, in hopes of kinder masters. But superstition allows of no change of Gods; nor could he indeed find a God he would not fear, that dreads his own and his ancestors' guardians, that quivers at his preservers and benign patrons, and that trembles and shakes at those of whom we ask wealth, plenty, concord, peace, and direction to the best words and actions. Slaves again account it their misfortune to become such, and can say: Both man and wife in direful slavery, And with ill masters too! Fate's worst decree! But how much less tolerable, think you, is their condition, that can never possibly run away, escape, or desert? A slave may fly to an altar, and many sanctuaries afford asylum to thieves; and they that are pursued by an enemy think themselves safe if they can catch hold on a statue or a temple. But the superstitious fears, quivers, and dreads most of all there, where others when fearfullest take greatest courage. Never hale a superstitious man from the altar. It is his place of torment; he is there chastised. In one word, death itself, the end of life, puts no period to this vain and foolish dread; but it transcends those limits, and extends its fears beyond the grave, adding to it the imagination of immortal ills; and after respite from past sorrows, it fancies it shall next enter upon never-ending ones. I know not what gates of hell open themselves from beneath, rivers of fire together with Stygian torrents present themselves to view; a gloomy darkness appears full of ghastly spectres and horrid shapes, with dreadful aspects and doleful groans, together with judges and tormentors, pits and caverns, full of millions of miseries and woes. Thus does wretched superstition bring inevitably upon itself by its fancies even those calamities which it has once escaped. 

5  Atheism is attended with none of this. True indeed, the ignorance is very lamentable and sad. For to be blind or to see amiss in matters of this consequence cannot but be a fatal unhappiness to the mind, it being then deprived of the fairest and brightest of its many eyes, the knowledge of God. Yet this opinion (as hath been said) is not necessarily accompanied with any disordering, ulcerous, frightful, or slavish passion. Plato thinks the Gods never gave men music, the science of melody and harmony, for mere delectation or to tickle the ear, but in order that the confusion and disorder in the periods and harmonies of the soul, which often for want of the Muses and of grace break forth into extravagance through intemperance and license, might be sweetly recalled, and artfully wound up to their former consent and agreement. No animal accurst by Zeus Music's sweet charms can ever love," saith Pindar. For all such will rave and grow outrageous straight. Of this we have an instance in tigers, which (as they say), if they hear but a tabor beat near them, will rage immediately and run stark mad, and in fine tear themselves in pieces. They certainly suffer the less inconvenience of the two, who either through defect of hearing or utter deafness are wholly insensible of music, and therefore unmoved by it. It was a great misfortune indeed to Tiresias, that he wanted sight to see his friends and children; but a far greater to Athamas and Agave, to see them in the shape of lions and bucks. And it had been happier for Hercules, when he was distracted, if he could have neither seen nor known his children, than to have used like the worst of enemies those he so tenderly loved. 

6  Well then, is not this the very case of the atheist, compared with the superstitious? The former sees not the Gods at all, the latter believes that he really sees them; the former wholly overlooks them, but the latter mistakes their benignity for terror, their paternal affection for tyranny, their providence for cruelty, and their frank simplicity for savageness and brutality. Again, the workman in copper, stone, and wax can persuade such that the Gods are in human shape; for so they make them, so they draw them, and so they worship them. But they will not hear either philosophers or statesmen that describe the majesty of the Divinity as accompanied by goodness, magnanimity, benignity, and beneficence. The one therefore hath neither a sense nor belief of that divine good he might participate of; and the other dreads and fears it. In a word, atheism is an absolute insensibility to God (or want of passion), which does not recognize goodness; while superstition is a blind heap of passions, which imagine the good to be evil. They are afraid of their Gods, and yet run to them; they fawn upon them, and reproach them; they invoke them, and accuse them. It is the common destiny of humanity not to enjoy uninterrupted felicity. Nor pains, nor age, nor labor they e'er bore, Nor visited rough Acheron's hoarse shore, saith Pindar of the Gods; but human passions and affairs are liable to a strange multiplicity of uncertain accidents and contingencies. 

7  Consider well the atheist, and observe his behavior first in things not under the disposal of his will. If he be otherwise a man of good temper, he is silent under his present circumstances, and is providing himself with either remedies or palliatives for his misfortunes. But if he be a fretful and impatient man, his whole complaint is against Fortune. He cries out, that nothing is managed here below either after the rules of a strict justice or the orderly course of a providence, and that all human affairs are hurried and driven without either premeditation or distinction. This is not the demeanor of the superstitious; if the least thing do but happen amiss to him, he sits him down plunged in sorrow, and raises himself a vast tempest of intolerable and incurable passions, and presents his fancy with nothing but terrors, fears, surmises, and distractions, until he hath overwhelmed himself with groans and fears. He blames neither man, nor Fortune, nor the times, nor himself; but charges all upon God, from whom he fancies a whole deluge of vengeance to be pouring down upon him; and, as if he were not only unfortunate but in open hostility with Heaven, he imagines that he is punished by God and is now making satisfaction for his past crimes, and saith that his sufferings are all just and owing to himself. Again, when the atheist falls sick, he reckons up and calls to his remembrance his several surfeits and debauches, his irregular course of living, excessive labors, or unaccustomed changes of air or climate. Likewise, when he miscarries in any public administration, and either falls into popular disgrace or comes to be ill presented to his prince, he searches for the causes in himself and those about him, and asks, Where have I erred? What have I done amiss? What should be done by me that undone is?" But the fanciful superstitionist accounts every little distemper in his body or decay in his estate, the death of his children, and crosses and disappointments in matters relating to the public, as the immediate strokes of God and the incursions of some vindictive daemon. And therefore he dares not attempt to remove or relieve his disasters, or to use the least remedy or to oppose himself to them, for fear he should seem to struggle with God and to make resistance under correction. If he be sick, he thrusts away the physician; if he be in any grief, he shuts out the philosopher that would comfort and advise him. Let me alone, saith he, to pay for my sins: I am a cursed and vile offender, and detestable both to God and angels. Now suppose a man unpersuaded of a Divinity in never so great sorrow and trouble, you may yet possibly wipe away his tears, cut his hair, and force away his mourning; but how will you come at this superstitious penitentiary, either to speak to him or to bring him any relief? He sits him down without doors in sackcloth, or wrapped up in foul and nasty rags; yea, many times rolls himself naked in mire, repeating over I know not what sins and transgressions of his own; as, how he did eat this thing and drink the other thing, or went some way prohibited by his Genius. But suppose he be now at his best, and laboring under only a mild attack of superstition; you shall even then find him sitting down in the midst of his house all becharmed and bespelled, with a parcel of old women about him, tugging all they can light on, and hanging it upon him as (to use an expression of Bion's) upon some nail or peg. 

8  It is reported of Teribazus that, being seized by the Persians, he drew out his scimitar, and being a very stout person, defended himself bravely; but when they cried out and told him he was apprehended by the king's order, he immediately put up his sword, and presented his hands to be bound. Is not this the very case of the superstitious? Others can oppose their misfortunes, repel their troubles, and furnish themselves with retreats, or means of avoiding the stroke of things not under the disposal of their wills; but the superstitious person, without anybody's speaking to him, — but merely upon his own saying to himself, This thou undergoest, vile wretch, by the direction of Providence, and by Heaven's just appointment, — immediately casts away all hope, surrenders himself up, and shuns and affronts his friends that would relieve him. Thus do these sottish fears oftentimes convert tolerable evils into fatal and insupportable ones. The ancient Midas (as the story goes of him), being much troubled and disquieted by certain dreams, grew so melancholy thereupon, that he made himself away by drinking bull's blood. Aristodemus, king of Messenia, when a war broke out betwixt the Lacedemonians and the Messenians, upon some dogshowling like wolves, and grass coming up about his ancestors' domestic altar, and his divines presaging ill upon it, fell into such a fit of sullenness and despair that he slew himself. And perhaps it had been better if the Atheniangeneral, Nicias, had been eased of his folly the same way that Midas and Aristodemus were, than for him to sit still for fear of a lunar eclipse, while he was invested by an enemy, and so be himself made a prisoner, together with an army of forty thousand men (that were all either slain or taken), and die ingloriously. There was nothing formidable in the interposition of the earth betwixt the sun and the moon, neither was there any thing dreadful in the shadow's meeting the moon at the proper time: no, the dreadfulness lay here, that the darkness of ignorance should blind and befool a man's reason at a time when he had most occasion to use it. Glaucus, behold! The sea with billows deep begins to roll; The seas begin in azure rods to lie; A teeming cloud of pitch hangs on the sky Right o'er Gyre rocks; there is a tempest nigh;" which as soon as the pilot sees, he falls to his prayers and invokes his tutelar daemons, but neglects not in the mean time to hold to the rudder and let down the mainyard; and so. By gathering in his sails, with mighty pain, Escapes the hell-pits of the raging main. Hesiod directs his husbandman, before he either plough or sow, to pray to the infernal Zeus and the venerable Demeter, but with his hand upon the plough-tail. Homer acquaints us how Ajax, being to engage in a single combat with Hector, bade the Grecians pray to the Gods for him; and while they were at their devotions, he was putting on his armor. Likewise, after Agamemnon had thus prepared his soldiers for the fight: Each make his spear to glitter as the sun, Each see his warlike target well hung on: he then prayed: Grant me, great Zeus, to throw down Priam's roof." For God is the brave man's hope, and not the coward's excuse. The Jews indeed once sat on their tails, — it being forsooth their Sabbath day, — and suffered their enemies to rear their scaling-ladders and make themselves masters of their walls, and so lay still until they were caught like so many trout in the drag-net of their own superstition. 

9  Such then is the behavior of superstition in times of adversity, and in things out of the power of man's will. Nor doth it a jot excel atheism in the more agreeable and pleasurable part of our lives. Now what we esteem the most agreeable things in human life are our holidays, feasts, initiatings, processionings, with our public prayers and solemn devotions. Mark we now the atheist's behavior here. 'Tis true, he laughs at all that is done, with a frantic and sardonic laughter, and now and then whispers to a confidant of his, The devil is in these people sure, that can imagine God can be taken with these fooleries: but this is the worst of his disasters. But now the superstitious man would fain be pleasant and gay, but cannot for his heart. The whole town is filled with odors of incense and perfumes, and at the same time a mixture of hymns and sighs fills his poor soul. He looks pale with a garland on his head, he sacrifices and fears, prays with a faltering tongue, and offers incense with a trembling hand. In a word, he utterly baffles that saying of Pythagoras, that we are then best when we come near the Gods. For the superstitious person is then in his worst and most pitiful condition, when he approaches the shrines and temples of the Gods. 

10  So that I cannot but wonder at those that charge atheism with impiety, and in the mean time acquit superstition. Anaxagoras was indicted of blasphemy for having affirmed the sun to be a red-hot stone; yet the Cimmerians were never much blamed for denying his being. What? Is he that holds there is no God guilty of impiety, and is not he that describes him as the superstitious do much more guilty? I, for my own part, had much rather people should say of me, that there neither is nor ever was such a man as Plutarch, than they should say: "Plutarch is an unsteady, fickle, froward, vindictive, and touchy fellow; if you invite others to sup with you, and chance to leave out Plutarch, or if some business falls out that you cannot wait at his door with the morning salute, or if when you meet with him you don't speak to him, he'll fasten upon you somewhere with his teeth and bite the part through, or catch one of your children and cane him, or turn his beast into your corn and spoil your crop." When Timotheus the musician was one day singing at Athens an hymn to Artemis, in which among other things was this: Mad, raving, tearing, foaming Deity: Cinesias, the lyric poet, stood up from the midst of the spectators, and spoke aloud: I wish thee with all my heart such a Goddess to thy daughter, Timotheus. Such like, nay worse, are the conceits of the superstitious about this Goddess Artemis: Thou dost on the bed-clothes jump, And there liest like a lump. Thou dost tantalize the bride, When love's charms by thee are tied. Thou look'st grim and full of dread, When thou walk'st to find the dead. Thou down chairs and tables rumbl'st, When with Oberon thou tumbl'st." Nor have they any milder sentiments of Apollo, Hera, or Aphrodite; for they are equally scared with them all. Alas! what could poor Niobe ever say that could be so reflecting upon the honor of Latona, as that which superstition makes fools believe of her? Niobe, it seems, had given her some hard words, for which she fairly shot her Six daughters, and six sons full in their prime;" so impatient was she, and insatiate with the calamities of another. Now if the Goddess was really thus choleric and vindictive and so highly incensed with bad language, and if she had not the wisdom to smile at human frailty and ignorance, but suffered herself to be thus transported with passion, I much marvel she did not shoot them too that told this cruel story of her, and charged her both in speech and writing with so much spleen and rancor. We oft accuse Queen Hecuba of barbarous and savage bitterness, for having once said in Homer: Would God I had his liver 'twixt my teeth; yet the superstitious believe, if a man taste of a minnow or bleak, the Syrian Goddess will eat his shins through, fill his body with sores, and dissolve his liver. 

11  Is it a sin then to speak amiss of the Gods, and is it not to think amiss of them? And is not thinking the cause of speaking ill? For the only reason of our dislike to detraction is that we look upon it as a token of ill-will to us; and we therefore take those for our enemies that misrepresent us, because we look upon them as untrusty and disaffected. You see then what the superstitious think of the divinity, while they fancy the Gods such heady, faithless, fickle, revengeful, cruel, and fretful things. The consequence of which is that the superstitious person must needs both fear and hate them at once. And indeed, how can he otherwise choose, while he thinks the greatest calamities he either doth now or must hereafter undergo are wholly owing to them? Now he that both hates and fears the Gods must of necessity be their enemy. And if he trembles, fears, prostrates, sacrifices, and sits perpetually at their shrines, that is no marvel at all. For the very worst of tyrants are complimented and attended, yea, have statues of gold erected to them, by those who in private hate them and wag their heads. Hermolaus waited on Alexander, and Pausaniaswas of Philip's guard, and so was Chaerea of Caligula's; yet every one of these said, I warrant you, in his heart as he went along: Had I a power as my will is good, Know this, bold tyrant, I would have thy blood." The atheist believes there are no Gods; the superstitious would have none, but is a believer against his will, and would be an infidel if he durst. He would be as glad to ease himself of the burthen of his fear, as Tantalus would be to slip his head from under the great stone that hangs over him, and would bless the condition of the atheist as absolute freedom, compared with his own. The atheist now has nothing to do with superstition; while the superstitious is an atheist in his heart, but is too much a coward to think as he is inclined. 

12  Moreover, atheism hath no hand at all in causing superstition; but superstition not only gave atheism its first birth, but serves it ever since by giving it its best apology for existing, which, although it be neither a good nor a fair one, is yet the most specious and colorable. For men were not at first made atheists by any fault they found in the heavens or stars, or in the seasons of the year, or in those revolutions or motions of the sun about the earth that make the day and night; nor yet by observing any mistake or disorder either in the breeding of animals or the production of fruits. No, it was the uncouth actions and ridiculous and senseless passions of superstition, her canting words, her foolish gestures, her charms, her magic, her freakish processions, her taborings, her foul expiations, her vile methods of purgation, and her barbarous and inhuman penances, and bemirings at the sanctuaries, — it was these, I say, that gave occasion to many to affirm, it would be far happier there were no Gods at all than for them to be pleased and delighted with such fantastic toys, and to thus abuse their votaries, and to be incensed and pacified with trifles. 

13  Had it not been much better for the so much famed Gauls and Scythians to have neither thought nor imagined nor heard any thing of their Gods, than to have believed them such as would be pleased with the blood of human sacrifices, and would account such for the most complete and meritorious of expiations? How much better had it been for the Carthaginians to have had either a Critias or a Diagoras for their first lawmaker, that so they might have believed in neither God nor spirits, than to make such offerings to Saturn as they made? — not such as Empedocles speaks of, where he thus touches the sacrifices of beasts: The sire lifts up his dear beloved son, Who first some other form and shape did take; He doth him slay and sacrifice anon, And therewith vows and foolish prayers doth make. But they knowingly and wittingly themselves devoted their own children; and they that had none of their own bought of some poor people, and then sacrificed them like lambs or pigeons, the poor mother standing by the while without either a sigh or tear; and if by chance she fetched a sigh or let fall a tear, she lost the price of her child, but it was nevertheless sacrificed. All the places round the image were in the mean time filled with the noise of hautboys and tabors, to drown the poor infants' crying. Suppose we now the Typhons and Giants should depose the Gods and make themselves masters of mankind, what sort of sacrifices, think you, would they expect? Or what other expiations would they require? The queen of King Xerxes, Amestris, buried twelve men alive, as a sacrifice to Pluto to prolong her own life; and yet Plato saith, This God is called in Greek Hades, because he is placid, wise, and wealthy, and retains the souls of men by persuasion and oratory. That great naturalist Xenophanes, seeing the Egyptians beating their breasts and lamenting at the solemn times of their devotions, gave them this pertinent and seasonable admonition: If they are Gods (said he), don't cry for them; and if they are men, don't sacrifice to them. 

14  There is certainly no infirmity belonging to us that contains such a multiplicity of errors and fond passions, or that consists of such incongruous and incoherent opinions, as this of superstition doth. It behooves us therefore to do our utmost to escape it; but withal, we must see we do it safely and prudently, and not rashly and inconsiderately, as people run from the incursions of robbers or from fire, and fall into bewildered and untrodden paths full of pits and precipices. For so some, while they would avoid superstition, leap over the golden mean of true piety into the harsh and coarse extreme of atheism.

1  It was a singular instance of the wisdom of this nation, in that they took the greatest care they could, by an early sober education, to instil into their youth the principles of virtue and good manners, that so, by a constant succession of prudent and valiant men, they might the better provide for the honor and security of their state, and lay in the minds of every one a solid and good foundation of love and friendship, of prudence and knowledge, of temperance and frugality, of courage and resolution. And therefore their great lawgiver thought it necessary for the ends of government to institute several distinct societies and conventions of the people; amongst which was that of their solemn and public living together at one table, where their custom was to admit their youth into the conversation of their wise and elderly men, that so by daily eating and drinking with them they might insensibly, as it were, be trained up to a right knowledge of themselves, to a just submission to their superiors, and to the learning of whatever might conduce to the reputation of their laws and the interest of their country. For here they were taught all the wholesome rules of discipline, and daily instructed how to demean themselves from the example and practice of their great ones; and though they did not at this public meeting confine themselves to set and grave discourses concerning the civil government, but allowed themselves a larger freedom, by mingling sometimes with their politics the easy and familiar entertainments of mirth and satire, yet this was ever done with the greatest modesty and discretion, not so much to expose the person of any one, as to reprove the fault he had committed. Whatever was transacted at these stated and common feasts was to be locked up in every one's breast with the greatest silence and secrecy, insomuch as the eldest among them at these assemblies, pointing to the door, acquainted him who entered the room that nothing of what was done or spoken there was to be talked of afterwards. 

2  At all these public meetings they used a great deal of moderation, they being designed only for schools of temperance and modesty, not for luxury and indecency; their chief dish and only delicacy being a sort of pottage (called by them their black broth, and made of some little pieces of flesh, with a small quantity of blood, salt, and vinegar), and this the more ancient among them generally preferred to any sort of meat whatsoever, as the more pleasing entertainment and of a more substantial nourishment. The younger sort contented themselves with flesh and other ordinary provisions, without tasting of this dish, which was reserved only for the old men. It is reported of Dionysius, the Sicilian tyrant, that having heard of the great fame and commendation of this broth, he hired a certain cook of Lacedemon, who was thoroughly skilled in the make and composition of it, to furnish his table every day with so great and curious a dainty; and that he might have it in the greatest perfection, enjoined him to spare no cost in the making it agreeable and pleasant to his palate. But it seems the end answered not the pains he took in it; for after all his care and niceness, the king, as soon as he had tasted of it, found it both fulsome and nauseous to his stomach, and spitting it out with great distaste, as if he had taken down a vomit, sufficiently expressed his disapprobation of it. But the cook, not discouraged at this dislike of his master, told the tyrant that he humbly conceived the reason of this disagreeableness to him was not in the pottage, but rather in himself, who had not prepared his body for such food according to the Laconic mode and custom. For hard labors and long exercises and moderate abstinence (the best preparatives to a good and healthy appetite) and frequent bathings in the river Eurotas were the only necessaries for a right relish and understanding of the excellency of this entertainment. 

3.  'Tis true, their constant diet was very mean and sparing; not what might pamper their bodies or make their minds soft and delicate, but such only as would barely serve to supply the common necessities of nature. This they accustomed themselves to, that so they might become sober and governable, active and bold in the defence of their country; they accounting only such men serviceable to the state, who could best endure the extremes of hunger and cold, and with cheerfulness and vigor run through the fatigues of labor and the difficulties of hardship. Those who could fast longest after a slender meal, and with the least provision satisfy their appetites, were esteemed the most frugal and temperate, and most sprightly and healthful, the most comely and well proportioned; nature, through such a temperance and moderation of diet, not suffering the constitution to run out into an unwieldy bulk or greatness of body (the usual consequence of full tables and too much ease), but rather rendering it thereby nervous and sinewy, of a just and equal growth, and consolidating and knitting together all the several parts and members of it. A very little drink did serve their turn, who never drank but when an extreme thirst provoked them to it; for at all their common entertainments they studied the greatest measures of sobriety, and took care they should be deprived of all kinds of compotations whatsoever. And at night when they returned home, they went cheerfully to their sleep, without the assistance of any light to direct them to their lodging; that being prohibited them as an indecent thing, the better to accustom them to travel in the dark, without any sense of fear or apprehensions of danger. 

4  They never applied their minds to any kind of learning, further than what was necessary for use and service; nature indeed having made them more fit for the purposes of war than for the improvements of knowledge. And therefore for speculative sciences and philosophic studies, they looked upon them as foreign to their business and unserviceable to their ends of living, and for this reason they would not tolerate them amongst them, nor suffer the professors of them to live within their government. They banished them their cities, as they did all sorts of strangers, esteeming them as things that did debase the true worth and excellency of virtue, which they made to consist only in manly actions and generous exercises, and not in vain disputations and empty notions. So that the whole of what their youth was instructed in was to learn obedience to the laws and injunctions of their governors, to endure with patience the greatest labors, and where they could not conquer, to die valiantly in the field For this reason likewise it was, that all mechanic arts and trades, all vain and insignificant employments, such as regarded only curiosity or pleasure, were strictly prohibited them, as things that would make them degenerate into idleness and covetousness, would render them vain and effeminate, useless to themselves, and unserviceable to the state; and on this account it was that they would never suffer any scenes or interludes, whether of comedy or tragedy, to be set up among them, lest there should be any encouragement given to speak or act any thing that might savor of contempt or contumely against their laws and government, it being customary for the stage to assume an indecent liberty of taxing the one with faults and the other with imperfections. 

5  As to their apparel, they were as thinly clad as they were dieted, never exceeding one garment, which they wore for the space of a whole year. And this they did, the better to inure them to hardship and to bear up against all the injuries of the weather, that so the extremities of heat and cold should have no influence at all upon their constitution. They were as regardless of their selves as they were negligent of their clothes, denying themselves (unless it were at some stated time of the year) the use of ointments and bathings to keep them clean and sweet, as too expensive and signs of a too soft and delicate temper of body. 

6  Their youth, as they were instructed and ate in public together, so at night slept in distinct companies in one common chamber, and on no other beds than what were made of reeds, which they had gathered out of the river Eurotas, near the banks of which they grew. This was the only accommodation they had in the summer, but in winter they mingled with the reeds a certain soft and downy thistle, having much more of heat and warmth in it than the other. 

7  It was freely allowed them to place an ardent affection upon those whose excellent endowments recommended them to the love and consideration of any one; but then this was always done with the greatest innocency and modesty, and every way becoming the strictest rules and measures of virtue, it being accounted a base and dishonorable passion in any one to love the body and not the mind, as those did who in their young men preferred the beauty of the one before the excellency of the other. Chaste thoughts and modest discourses were the usual entertainments of their loves; and if any one was accused at any time either of wanton actions or impure discourse, it was esteemed by all so infamous a thing, that the stains it left upon his reputation could never be wiped out during his whole life. 

8  So strict and severe was the education of their youth, that whenever they were met with in the streets by your grave and elderly persons, they underwent a close examination; it being their custom to enquire of them upon what business and whither they were going, and if they did not give them a direct and true answer to the question demanded of them, but shamed them with some idle story or false pretence, they never escaped without a rigorous censure and sharp correction. And this they did to prevent their youth from stealing abroad upon any idle or bad design, that so, through the uneasy fears of meeting these grave examiners, and the impossibility of escaping punishment upon their false account and representations of things, they might be kept within due compass, and do nothing that might entrench upon truth or offend against the rules of virtue. Nor was it expected only from their superiors to censure and admonish them upon any miscarriage or indecency whatsoever, but it was strictly required of them under a severe penalty; for he who did not reprove a fault that was committed in his presence, and showed not his just resentments of it by a verbal correction, was adjudged equally culpable with the guilty, and obnoxious to the same punishment. For they could not imagine that person had a serious regard for the honor of their laws and the reputation of their government, who could carelessly pass by any immorality and patiently see the least corruption of good manners in their youth; by which means they took away all occasions of fondness, partiality, and indulgence in the aged, and all presumption, irreverence, and disobedience, and especially all impatiency of reproof, in the younger sort. For not to endure the reprehension of their superiors in such cases was highly disgraceful to them, and ever interpreted as an open renunciation of their authority, and a downright opposing of the justice of their proceedings. 

9  Besides, when any was surprised in the commission of some notorious offence, he was presently sentenced to walk round a certain altar in the city, and publicly to shame himself by singing an ingenious satire, composed by himself, upon the crime and folly he had been guilty of, that so the punishment might be inflicted by the same hand which had contracted the guilt. 

10  Their children were brought up in a strict obedience to their parents, and taught from their infancy to pay a profound reverence to all their dictates and commands. And no less were they enjoined to show an awful regard and observance to all their superiors in age and authority, so as to rise up before the hoary head, and to honor the face of the old man, to give him the way when they met him in the streets, and to stand still and remain silent till he was passed by; insomuch as it was indulged them, as a peculiar privilege due to their age and wisdom, not only to have a paternal authority over their own children, servants, and estates, but over their neighbors too, as if they were a part of their own family and propriety; that so in general there might be a mutual care, and an united interest, zealously carried on betwixt them for the private good of every one in particular, as well as for the public good of the communities they lived in. By this means they never wanted faithful counsellors to assist with good advice in all their concerns, nor hearty friends to prosecute each other's interest as it were their own; by this means they never wanted careful tutors and guardians for their youth, who were always at hand to admonish and instruct them in the solid principles of virtue. 

11  No one durst show himself refractory to their instructions, nor at the least murmur at their reprehensions; insomuch that, whenever any of their youth had been punished by them for some ill that had been done, and a complaint thereupon made by them to their parents of the severity they had suffered, hoping for some little relief from their indulgence and affection, it was accounted highly dishonorable in them not to add to their punishment by a fresh correction for the folly and injustice of their complaint. For by the common interest of discipline, and that great care that every one was obliged to take in the education of their youth, they had a firm trust and assurance in one another, that they never would enjoin their children the performance of any thing that was in the least unnecessary or unbecoming them. 

12  Though it might seem very strange and unaccountable in this wise nation, that any thing which had the least semblance of baseness or dishonesty should be universally approved, commended, and encouraged by their laws, yet so it was in the case of theft, whereby their young children were allowed to steal certain things, as particularly the fruit of their orchards or their messes at their feasts. But then this was not done to encourage them to the desires of avarice and injustice, but to sharpen their wits, and to make them crafty and subtle, and to train them up in all sorts of wiles and cunning, watchfulness and circumspection, whereby they were rendered more apt to serve them in their wars, which was upon the matter the whole profession of this commonwealth. And if at any time they were taken in the act of stealing, they were most certainly punished with rods and the penance of fasting; not because they esteemed the stealth criminal, but because they wanted skill and cunning in the management and concealing of it." 

14  They spent a great part of their studies in poetry and music, which raised their minds above the ordinary level, and by a kind of artificial enthusiasm inspired them with generous heats and resolutions for action. Their compositions, consisting only of very grave and moral subjects, were easy and natural, in a plain dress, and without any paint or ornament, containing nothing else but the just commendations of those great personages whose singular wisdom and virtue had made their lives famous and exemplary, and whose courage in defence of their country had made their deaths honorable and happy. Nor were the valiant and virtuous only the subject of these songs; but the better to make men sensible of what rewards and honors are due to the memory of such, they made invectives in them upon those who were signally vicious and cowards, as men who died with as much contempt as they had lived with infamy. They generally concluded their poem with a solemn profession of what they would be, boasting of their progress in virtue, agreeable to the abilities of their nature and the expectations of their age. 

15  At all their public festivals these songs were a great part of their entertainment, where there were three companies of singers, representing the three several ages of nature. The old men made up the first chorus, whose business was to present what they had been after this manner: That active courage youthful blood contains Did once with equal vigor warm our veins. To which the chorus, consisting of young men only, thus answers: Valiant and bold we are, let who will try: Who dare accept our challenge soon shall die. The third, which were of young children, replied to them in this manner: Those seeds which Nature in our breast did sow Shall soon to generous fruits of virtue grow; Then all those valiant deeds which you relate We will excel, and scorn to imitate." 

16  They made use of a peculiar measure in their songs, when their armies were in their march towards an enemy, which being sung in a full choir to their flutes seemed proper to excite in them a generous courage and contempt of death. Lycurgus was the first who brought this warlike music into the field, that so he might moderate and soften the rage and fury of their minds in an engagement by solemn musical measures, and that their valor (which should be no boisterous and unruly thing) might always be under the government of their reason, and not of passion. To this end it was always their custom before the fight to sacrifice to the Muses, that they might behave themselves with as much good conduct as with courage, and do such actions as were worthy of memory, and which might challenge the applauses and commendations of every one. 

17  And indeed so great an esteem and veneration had they for the gravity and simplicity of their ancient music, that no one was allowed to recede in the least from the established rules and measures of it, insomuch as the Ephori, upon complaint made to them, laid a severe mulct upon Terpander (a musician of great note and eminency for his incomparable skill and excellency in playing upon the harp, and who, as he had ever professed a great veneration for antiquity, so ever testified by his eulogiums and commendations the esteem he always had of virtuous and heroic actions), depriving him of his harp, and (as a peculiar punishment) exposing it to the censure of the people, by fixing it upon a nail, because he had added one string more to his instrument than was the usual and stated number, though done with no other design and advantage than to vary the sound, and to make it more useful and pleasant. That music was ever accounted among them the best, which was most grave, simple, and natural. And for this reason too, when Timotheus in their Carnean feasts, which were instituted in honor of Apollo, contended for a preference in his art, one of the Ephori took a knife in his hand, and cut the strings of his harp, for having exceeded the number of seven in it. So severely tenacious were they of their ancient customs and practices, that they would not suffer the least innovation, though in things that were indifferent and of no great importance, lest an indulgence in one thing might have introduced another, till at length by gradual and insensible alterations the whole body of their laws might be disregarded and contemned, and so the main pillar which did support the fabric of their government be weakened and undermined. 

18  Lycurgus took away that superstition, which formerly indeed had been the practice among them, concerning their sepulchre and funeral solemnities, by permitting them to bury the remains of their departed friends within the city, that so they might the better secure them from the rude and barbarous violence of an enemy, and to erect their monuments for them in separated places joining to their temples; that, having their graves and tombs always before their eyes, they might not only remember but imitate the worthy actions they had done, and so lessen the fears and apprehensions of death with the consideration of those honors they paid their memories when they put off their mortalities. He took away those pollutions which they formerly looked upon as arising from their dead bodies, and prohibited all costly and sumptuous expenses at their funerals, it being very improper for those who while alive generally abstained from whatever was vain and curious to be carried to the grave with any pomp and magnificence. Therefore without the use of drugs and ointments, without any rich odors and perfumes, without any art or curiosity, save only the little ornament of a red vestment and a few olive-leaves, they carried him to the place of burying, where he was, without any formal sorrows and public lamentations, honorably and securely laid up in a decent and convenient sepulchre. And here it was lawful for any one who would be at the trouble to erect a monument for the person deceased, but not to engrave the least inscription on it; this being the peculiar reward of such only who had signalized themselves in war, and died gallantly in defence of their country. 

20  It was not allowed any of them to travel into foreign countries, lest their conversation should be tinctured with the customs of those places, and they at their return introduce amongst them new modes and incorrect ways of living, to the corruption of good manners and the prejudice of their own laws and usage; for which reason they expelled all strangers from Sparta, lest they should insinuate their vices and their folly into the affections of the people, and leave in the minds of their citizens the bad principles of softness and luxury, ease and covetousness. 

21  Nothing could sooner forfeit the right and privilege of a citizen, than refusing their children that public education which their laws and country demanded of them. For as none of them were on any account exempt from obedience to their laws, so, if any one out of an extraordinary tenderness and indulgence would not suffer his sons to be brought up according to their strict discipline and institutions, he was straightways disfranchised. For they could not think that person could ever prove serviceable to their government, who had not been educated with the same care and severity with his fellow-subjects. And it was no less a shame and reproach to the parents themselves, who could be of such mean and abject spirits as to prefer the love of their children to the love of their country, and the satisfaction of a fond and imprudent passion to the honor and security of their state. 

23  Nay further, as there was a community of children, so there was of their goods and estates, it being free for them in case of necessity to make use of their neighbor's servants, as if they were their own; and not only so, but of their horses and dogs too, unless the owners stood in need of them themselves, whenever they designed the diversion of hunting, an exercise peculiar to this nation, and to which they were accustomed from their youth. And if upon any extraordinary occasion any one was pressed with the want of what his neighbors were possessed of, he went freely to them and borrowed, as though he had been the right proprietary of their storehouses; and being supplied answerably to his necessities, he carefully sealed them up again and left them secure. 

24  In all their warlike expeditions they generally clothed themselves with a garment of a purple color, as best becoming the profession of soldiers, and carrying in them a signification of that blood they were resolved to shed in the service of their country. It was of use likewise, not only to cast a greater terror into their adversaries and to secure from their discovery the wounds they should receive, but likewise for distinction's sake, that in the heat and fury of the battle they might discriminate each other from the enemy. They always fought with consideration and cunning, craft being many times of more advantage to them than downright blows; for it is not the multitude of men, nor the strongest arm and the sharpest sword, that make men masters of the field. 

25  Whenever a victory was gained through a well-contrived stratagem, and thereby with little loss of men and blood, they always sacrificed an ox to Mars; but when the success was purely owing to their valor and prowess, they only offered up a cock to him; it being in their estimation more honorable for their generals and commanders to overcome their enemies by policy and subtlety than by mere strength and courage. 

27  One great part of their religion lay in their solemn prayers and devotion, which they daily offered up to their Gods, heartily requesting of them to enable them to bear all kinds of injuries with a generous and unshaken mind, and to reward them with honor and prosperity, according to their performances of piety and virtue. 

28  Besides, it was a great part of that honor they paid their Gods, of whatever sex they were, to adorn them with military weapons and armor, partly out of superstition and an extraordinary reverence they had for the virtue of fortitude, which they preferred to all others, and which they looked upon as an immediate gift of the Gods, as being the greatest lovers and patrons of those who were endued with it; and partly to encourage every one to address his devotions to them for it; insomuch as Aphrodite herself, who in other nations was generally represented naked, had her armor too, as well as her particular altars and worshippers. 

29  Whenever they take any business of moment in hand, they generally pray to Fortune in a set form of words for their success in it; it being no better in their esteem than profaneness and irreverence to their Gods to invoke them upon slight and trivial emergencies. 

30  No discovery of what is bad and vicious comes with greater evidence to the spirits and apprehensions of children, who are unable to bear the force of reason, than that which is offered to them by way of example. Therefore the Spartan discipline did endeavor to preserve their youth (on whom philosophical discourses would have made but small impression) from all kinds of intemperance and excess of wine, by presenting before them all the indecencies of their drunken Helots, persons indeed who were their slaves, and employed not only in all kinds of servile offices, but especially in tilling of their fields and manuring of their ground, which was let out to them at reasonable rates, they paying in every year their returns of rent, according to what was anciently established and ordained amongst them at the first general division of their lands. And if any did exact greater payments from them, it was esteemed an execrable thing amongst them; they being desirous that the Helots might reap gain and profit from their labors, and thereupon be obliged faithfully to serve their masters as well as their own interest with greater cheerfulness and industry. And therefore their lords never required more of them than what bare custom and contracts exacted of them. 

33  They adjudged it necessary for the preservation of that gravity and seriousness of manners which was required of their youth for the attainments of wisdom and virtue, never to admit of any light and wanton, any ludicrous or effeminate poetry; which made them allow of no poets among them but such only who for their grave and virtuous compositions were approved by the public magistrate; that being hereby under some restraint, they might neither act nor write any thing to the prejudice of good manners, or to the dishonor of their laws and government. 

34  And therefore it was, that when they heard of Archilochus's arrival at Sparta (though a Lacedemonian, and of an excellent wit), yet they presently commanded him to depart the city, having understood how that in a poem of his he had affirmed it was greater wisdom for a man to throw his arms away and secure himself by flight, than to stand to his own defence with the hazard of his life, or therein to die valiantly in the field. His words were after this manner: Let who will boast their courage in the field, I find but little safety from my shield. Nature's not Honor's laws we must obey; This made me cast my useless shield away, And by a prudent flight and cunning save A life, which valor could not, from the grave. A better buckler I can soon regain, But who can get another life again?" 

35  It was a received opinion amongst many nations, that some of their Gods were propitious only to their men, and others only to their women, which made them sometimes prohibit the one and sometimes the other from being present at their sacred rites and solemnities. But the Lacedemonians took away this piece of superstition by not excluding either sex from their temples and religious services; but, as they were always bred up to the same civil exercises, so they were to the same common performances of their holy mysteries, so that by an early knowledge of each other there might be a real love and friendship established betwixt them, which ever stood most firm upon the basis of religion. 

36  Their virtuous man, as he was to do no wrong, so likewise was not to suffer any without a due sense and modest resentment of it; and therefore the Ephori laid a mulct upon Sciraphidas, because he could so tamely receive the many injuries and affronts that were offered him, — concluding that he who was so insensible of his own interest as not to stand up in a bold and honest vindication of himself from the wrongs and injustice that may be done to his good name and honor, would without all doubt be as dull and listless, when an opportunity should invite him to it, in appearing for the defence of the fame and reputation of his country. 

39  Action and not speaking was the study and commendation of a Spartan, and therefore polite discourses and long harangues were not with them the character of a wise or learned man, their speech being always grave and sententious, without any ornament or tedious argumentation. They accustomed themselves to brevity, and upon every subject to express themselves in the finest words, with as much satire and smartness as possible; insomuch as they had a law among them for the instruction of their youth, by which they were enjoined to practise a close and compendious style in all their orations; which made them banish one Cephisophon, a talkative rhetorician, for boasting publicly that he could upon any subject whatsoever entertain his auditory for a whole day together; alleging this as a sufficient reason for their justification, that it was the part of a good orator to adjust his discourse according to the weight and dignity of the matter he was to treat of. 

40  There was indeed a strange and unnatural custom amongst them, annually observed at the celebration of the bloody rites of Artemis Orthia, where there was a certain number of children, not only of the vulgar sort but of the gentry and nobility, who were whipped almost to death with rods before the altar of the goddess; their parents and relations standing by, and all the while exhorting them to patience and constancy in suffering. Although this ceremony lasted for the space of a whole day, yet they underwent this barbarous rite with such a prodigious cheerfulness and resolution of mind as never could be expected from the softness and tenderness of their age. They did not so much as express one little sigh or groan during the whole solemnity, but out of a certain emulation and desire of glory there was a great contention among them, who should excel his companions in the constancy of enduring the length and sharpness of their pains; and he who held out the longest was ever the most esteemed and valued person amongst them, and the glory and reputation where-with they rewarded his sufferings rendered his after life much more eminent and illustrious. 

42  They had a very slight regard to maritime affairs, on the account of an ancient law amongst them, whereby they were prohibited from applying of themselves to the becoming of good seamen or engaging themselves in any sea-fight. Afterwards indeed, through the necessity of affairs and the security of their country, they judged it convenient, when they were invaded by the Athenians and other nations, to furnish themselves with a navy; by which it was that Lysander, who was then the general in that expedition, obtained a great victory over the Athenians, and thereby for a considerable time secured the sovereignty of the seas to themselves. But finding afterwards this grievance arising from it, that there was a very sensible corruption of good manners and decay of discipline amongst them, from the conversation of their rude and debauched mariners, they were obliged to lay this profession wholly aside, and by a revival of this law endeavor to retrieve their ancient sobriety, and, by turning the bent and inclinations of the people into their old channel again, to make them tractable and obedient, modest and virtuous. Though indeed they did not long hold to their resolution herein, any more than they were wont to do in other matters of moment, which could not but be variable, according to the circumstances of affairs and the necessities of their government. For though great riches and large possessions were things they hated to death, it being a capital crime and punishment to have any gold or silver in their houses, or to amass up together heaps of money (which was generally made with them of iron or leather), — for which reason several had been put to death, according to that law which banished covetousness out of the city, on the account of an answer of their oracle to Alcamenes and Theopompus, two of their Spartan kings, That the love of money should be the ruin of Sparta: yet notwithstanding the severe penalty annexed to the heaping up much wealth, and the example of those who had suffered for it, Lysander was highly honored and rewarded for bringing in a great quantity of gold and silver to Lacedemon, after the victory he had gained over the Athenians, and the taking of the city of Athens itself, wherein an inestimable treasure was found. So that what had been a capital crime in others was a meritorious act in him. It is true indeed that as long as the Spartas did adhere closely to the observation of the laws and rules of Lycurgus, and keep their oath religiously to be true to their own government, they outstripped all the other cities of Greece for prudence and valor, and for the space of five hundred years became famous everywhere for the excellency of their laws and the wisdom of their policy. But when the honor of these laws began to lessen and their citizens grew luxurious and exorbitant, when covetousness and too much liberty had softened their minds and almost destroyed the wholesome constitution of their state, their former greatness and power began by little and little to decay and dwindle in the estimation of men. And as by reason of these vices and ill customs they proved unserviceable to themselves, so likewise they became less formidable to others; insomuch as their several allies and confederates, who had with them jointly carried on their common good and interest, were wholly alienated from them. But although their affairs were in such a languishing posture, when Philip of Macedon, after his great victory at Chaeronea, was by the Grecians declared their general both by land and sea, as likewise his son Alexander after the conquest of the Thebans; yet the Lacedemonians, though their cities had no other walls for their security, but only their own courage, though by reason of their frequent wars they were reduced to low measures and small numbers of men, and thereby become so weak as to be an easy prey to any powerful enemy, yet retaining amongst them some reverence for those few remains of Lycurgus's institution and government, they could not be brought to assist these two, or any other of their Macedonian kings in their wars and expeditions; neither could they be prevailed with to assist at their common assemblies and consults with them, nor pay any tribute or contributions to them. But when all those laws and customs (which are the main pillars that support a state) enacted by Lycurgus, and so highly approved of by the government, were now universally despised and unobserved, they immediately became a prey to the ambition and usurpation, to the cruelty and tyranny of their fellow-citizens; and having no regard at all to their ancient virtues and constitution, they utterly lost their ancient glory and reputation, and by degrees, as well as weaker nations, did in a very little time everywhere degenerate into poverty, contempt, and servitude; being at present subject to the Romans, like all the other cities of Greece.

-  Concerning the virtues of women, O Clea, I am not of the same mind with Thucydides. For he would prove that she is the best woman concerning whom there is the least discourse made by people abroad, either to her praise or dispraise; judging that, as the person, so the very name of a good woman ought to be retired and not gad abroad. But to us Gorgias seems more accurate, who requires that not only the face but the fame of a woman should be known to many. For the Roman law seems exceeding good, which permits due praises to be given publicly both to men and women after death. Wherefore when Leontis, a most excellent woman, departed this life, immediately we made a long oration to thee about her, and truly not devoid of philosophical consolation; and now (as thou didst desire) I send thee in writing the rest of my speech and conversation, carrying with it an historical demonstration that the virtue of a man and woman is one and the same. And although it be not composed for the tickling of the ear, yet if there be jucundity in the nature of an example to him that is persuaded of the truth of it, my narration fails not of that grace which works conviction; neither is it ashamed of commixing the Graces with the Muses in the sweetest harmony (as Euripides saith), while it engageth confidence especially through that part of the soul which is studious of grace and beauty. For surely, if, whilst we asserted the art of painting to be the same, whether performed by men or women, we produced the same sort of draughts wrought by women which Apelles, Zeuxis, or Nicomachus hath left, is there any one who would reprehend us as attempting rather to humor and cajole men than to convince them? Verily I do not think it. Moreover, if, whilst we go to make appear that the poetic or comic art is not one thing in men and another in women, we compare Sappho's verses with Anacreon's, or the Sibylline oracles with those of Bacis, can any one justly blame this way of argumentation, because it insinuates a credence into the pleased and delighted hearers? No one surely would say this. Neither can a man truly any way better learn the resemblance and the difference between feminine and virile virtue than by comparing together lives with lives, exploits with exploits, as the products of some great art; duly considering whether the magnanimity of Semiramis carries with it the same character and impression with that of Sesostris, or the cunning of Tanaquil the same with that of King Servius, or the discretion of Porcia the same with that of Brutus, or that of Pelopidas with Timoclea, — regarding that quality of these virtues wherein lie their chiefest point and force. Moreover, virtues do admit some other differences, like peculiar colors, by reason of men's dispositions, and are assimilated to the manners and temperaments of the bodies wherein they are, yea, to the education and manner of diet. Achilles was courageous in one manner, Ajax in another; the subtlety of Ulysses was not like that of Nestor, neither were Cato and Agesilaus just after the same manner; neither was Eirene a lover of her husband as Alcestis was; neither was Cornelia magnanimous in the same way with Olympias. But, for all this, we do not say that there are many kinds of fortitude, prudence, and justice specifically distinct, so long as their individual dissimilitudes exclude none of them from the specific definitions. Those things now which are very commonly discoursed of, and of which I know thou hast had the exact history and knowledge from solid books, I will at present omit, unless there be some public and recorded matters worth your hearing, which have escaped the historians of former times. And seeing that many worthy things, both public and private, have been done by women, it is not amiss to give a brief historical account of those that are public, in the first place. 

1  Of the Trojan Women: Of those that escaped at the taking of Troy the most part were exercised with much tempestuous weather, and being inexperienced in navigation and unacquainted with the sea, they were wafted over into Italy; and about the river Tiber they made a very narrow escape by putting into such ports and havens as they could meet with. Whilst the men went about the country to enquire after pilots, there fell out a discourse among the women, that for a people as fortunate and happy as they had been, any fixed habitation on the land was better than perpetual wandering over the sea; and that they must make a new country for themselves, seeing it was impossible to recover that which they had lost. Upon this, complotting together, they set fire on the ships, Roma (as they say) being one of the first in the attempt. But having done these things, they went to meet their husbands, who were running towards the sea to the relief of the ships; and fearing their indignation, they laid hold some of them on their husbands, and some on their kinsfolk, and fell a kissing them soundly; by which carriage they obtained their charitable reception. Wherefore it hath been formerly, and now remains to be a custom among the Romans, for the women to salute their kinsfolk that come unto them by kissing. The Trojans as it seems, being sensible of the strait they were in, and having also made some experience of the natives entertaining them with much bounty and humanity, applauded the exploit of the women, and sat down by the Latins. 

2  Of the Phocian Women: The action of the women of Phocis hath not fallen under the cognizance of any noted writer of that age, and yet there was never a more memorable deed of virtue wrought by women, — the which is attested by those famous sacred rites performed by the Phocians at Hyampolis, and by ancient decrees. The total history of the transaction is particularly recorded in the Life of Daiphantus. The story of those women is this. There was an implacable war between the Thessalians and the Phocians. For these (the Phocians) slew all the Thessalian governors and magistrates in the cities of Phocis in one day. Whereupon they (the Thessalians) slew two hundred and fifty Phocian hostages, and with their whole host marched up against them through Locris, publishing their resolution to spare no men that were of age, and to sell the women and children for slaves. Daiphantus therefore, the son of Bathyllius, a triumvir, governor of Phocis, persuaded the Phocian men themselves to go to meet the Thessalians in battle; but as for the women, together with their children, that they should assemble them from all the parts of Phocis into one place, which they should pile round with combustible matter, and should leave a watch, to whom they should give in charge, that if he perceived that the men were conquered, he should immediately set fire to the pile and burn all the bodies to ashes. The counsels were agreed to by some, but one stands up and saith: It is just that these things be consented to by the women also, and if they do not cheerfully submit to it, they should have no force offered to them. The account of this discourse being come to the women, they assembled together by themselves, and carried it by vote, and applauded Daiphantus as a man that best consulted the affairs of Phocis; they say also, that the children meeting together privately voted the same things. These matters being thus settled, the Phocians joining battle at Kleonai, a town of Hyampolis, got the victory. Hence the Grecians call this vote of the Phocian women Aponoia (the desperate resolve). And of all the festivals this of the Elaphebolia is the greatest, which they observe to Artemis in Hyampolis to this day, in remembrance of this victory. 

3  Of the Women of Chios: The people of Chios possessed themselves of Leuconia upon this occasion following. A certain famous man of the nobles of Chios was married; whilst the bride was drawn in her chariot, King Hippoclus, an intimate friend of the bridegroom's, being present with the rest, and also fuddled and merry, leaped into the chariot, not designing any incivility, but only to keep up the usual custom and to make sport. However, the bridegroom's friends slew him. The effects of divine displeasure appearing against the people of Chios, and the oracle commanding them to slay the slayers of Hippoclus, they replied, We have all of us slain Hippoclus. The oracle commanded them all therefore to depart the city, if all did partake of the guilt. So that at length the principals, accessories, and abettors of the murder by any means whatsoever, being not a few in number nor feeble for strength, transplanted themselves into Leuconia, which the Chians had once taken from the Coroneans by the aid of the Erythraeans. Afterward a war arising between them and the Erythraeans, by far the most potent people among the Ionians, when the latter invaded Leuconia, the men of Chios were not able to defend themselves and came to an agreement to depart upon these terms that every one should take with him only one cloak and one coat, and nothing else. But the women of Chios upbraided them as mean-spirited men, that they would lay down their weapons and go naked men through their enemies. And when they made answer that they were sworn so to do, they charged them not to leave their weapons behind them, but to say to their adversaries, that the spear is a cloak and the buckler a coat to every man of courage. The men of Chios being persuaded to these things, and emboldening themselves courageously against the Erythraeans, and showing their weapons, the Erythraeanswere amazed at their audacity, and none opposed or hindered them, but were glad of their departure. These men therefore, being taught courage by the women in this manner, made a safe escape. Many years after this there was another exploit, nothing inferior to this in fortitude, performed by the women of Chios. When Philip, the son of Demetrius, besieged the city, he set forth a barbarous and insolent proclamation, inviting the servants to a defection upon promise of liberty and marriage of their mistresses, saying that he would give them their masters' wives into their possession. At this the women were dreadfully and outrageously incensed; and also the servants were no less provoked to indignation, and were ready to assist. Therefore they rushed forth furiously and ascended the wall, bringing stones and darts, encouraging and animating the soldiers; so that in the end these women discomfited and repulsed the enemy, and caused Philip to raise his siege, while not so much as one servant fell off to him. 

4  Of the Argive Women: Of all the renowned actions performed by women, none was more famous than the fight with Cleomenes in the country of Argos, whom Telesilla the poetess by her influence defeated. This woman they say was of an honorable family, but had a sickly body; she therefore sent to consult the oracle concerning her health. Answer was made, that she must be a servant to the Muses. Accordingly she becomes obedient to the Goddess, applying herself to poetry and music; her distempers left her, and she became the mirror of women in the art of poetry. Now when Cleomenes, king of the Spartans, having slain many Argives (but not so many as some fabulously reported, to wit, 7,777), marched up against the city, the youthful women were (as it were) divinely inspired with desperate resolution and courage to repulse the enemies out of their native country. They take arms under the conduct of Telesilla, they place themselves upon the battlements, they crown the walls, even to the admiration of the enemy; they by a sally beat off Cleomenes, with the slaughter of many of his men; and as for the other king, Demaratus (as Socrates saith), he having entered the city and possessed him of the socalled Pamphyliacum, they beat him out. In this manner the city being preserved, those women that were slain in the engagement they buried by the Argive road; to them that escaped they gave the honor of erecting the statue of Mars, in perpetual memorial of their bravery. Some say this fight was on the seventh day of the month; others say it was on the first day of the month, which is now called the fourth and was anciently called Hermaeus by the Argives; upon which day, even to this time, they perform their Hybristica (i.e., their sacred rites of incivility), clothing the women with men's coats and cloaks, but the men with women's veils and petticoats. To repair the scarcity of men, they admitted not slaves, as Herodotus saith, but the best sort of the adjacent inhabitants to be citizens, and married them to the widows; and these the women thought meet to reproach and undervalue at bed and board, as worse than themselves; whence there was a law made, that married women should wear beards when they lay with their husbands. 

5  Of the Persian Women: Cyrus, causing the Persians to revolt from King Astyages and the Medes, was overcome in battle; and the Persians retreating by flight into the city, the enemy pursued so close that they had almost fallen into the city with them. The women ran out to meet them before the city, plucking up their petticoats to their middle, saying, Ye vilest varlets among men, whither so fast? Ye surely cannot find a refuge in these parts, from whence ye came forth. The Persians blushing for shame at the sight and speech, and rebuking themselves, faced about, and renewing the fight routed their enemies. Hence a law was enacted, that when the king enters the city, every woman should receive a piece of gold; and this law Cyrus made. And they say that Ochus, being in other kinds a naughty and covetous king, would always, when he came, compass the city and not enter it, and so deprive the women of their largess; but Alexander entered twice, and gave all the women with child a double benevolence 

6  Of the Celtic Women: There arose a very grievous and irreconcilable contention among the Celts, before they passed over the Alps to inhabit that tract of Italy which now they inhabit, which proceeded to a civil war. The women placing themselves between the armies, took up the controversies, argued them so accurately, and determined them so impartially, that an admirable friendly correspondence and general amity ensued, both civil and domestic. Hence the Celts made it their practice to take women into consultation about peace or war, and to use them as mediators in any controversies that arose between them and their allies. In the league therefore made with Hannibal, the writing runs thus: If the Celts take occasion of quarrelling with the Carthaginians, the governors and generals of the Carthaginians in Spain shall decide the controversy; but if the Carthaginians accuse the Celts, the Celtic women shall be judges. 

7  Of the Melian Women: The Melians standing in need of a larger country constituted Nymphaeus, a handsome man and marvellously comely, the commander for the transplanting of the colony. The oracle enjoined them to continue sailing till they cast away their ships, and there to pitch their colony. It happened that, when they arrived at Caria and went ashore, their ships were broken to pieces by a storm. Some of the Carians which dwelt at Cryassus, whether commiserating their distressed condition or dreading their resolution, invited them to dwell in their neighborhood, and bestowed upon them a part of their country; but then observing their marvellous increase in a little time, they conspired to cut them off by treachery, and provided a feast and great entertainment for that end and purpose. But it came to pass that a certain virgin in Caria, whose name was Caphene, fell in love with Nymphaeus. While these things were in agitation, she could not endure to connive at the destruction of her beloved Nymphaeus, and therefore acquainted him privately with the conspiracy of the citizens against him. When the Cryassians came to invite them, Nymphaeus made this answer: It is not the custom of the Greeks to go to a feast without their wives. The Carians hearing this requested them also to bring their wives; and so explaining the whole transaction to the Melians, he charged the men to go without armor in plain apparel, but that every one of the women should carry a dagger stuck in her bosom, and that each should take her place by her husband. About the middle of supper, their signal token was given to the Carians; the point of time also the Grecians were sensible of. Accordingly the women laid open their bosoms, and the men laid hold of the daggers, and sheathing them in the barbarians, slew them all together. And possessing themselves of the country, they overthrew that city, and built another, which they called New Cryassus. Moreover, Caphene being married to Nymphaeus received due honor and grateful acknowledgments becoming her good services. Here the taciturnity and courage of women is worthy of admiration, that none of them among so many did so much as unwittingly, by reason of fear, betray their trust. 

8  Of the Tyrrhene Women: At the time when the Tyrrhenians inhabited the islands Lemnos and Imbros, they violently seized upon some Athenian women from Brauron, on whom they begat children, which children the Athenians banished from the islands as mixed barbarians. But these arriving at Taenarum were serviceable to the Spartans in the Helotic war, and therefore obtained the privilege of citizens and marriage, but were not dignified with magistracies or admitted to the senate; for they had a suspicion that they would combine together in order to some innovation, and conceived they might shake the present established government. Wherefore the Lacedemonians, seizing on them and securing them, shut them up close prisoners, seeking to take them off by evident and strong convictions. But the wives of the prisoners, gathering together about the prison, by many supplications prevailed with the jailers that they might be admitted to go to salute their husbands and speak with them. As soon as they came in, they required them to change their clothes immediately and leave them to their wives; while the men, apparelled in their wives' habits, should go forth. These things being effected, the women stayed behind, prepared to endure all hard usages of the prison, but the deluded keepers let out the men as if they had been their wives. Whereupon they seized upon Taygeta, exciting the Helotic people to revolt, and taking them to their aid; but the Spartans, alarmed by these things into a great consternation, by a herald proclaimed a treaty of peace. And they were reconciled upon these conditions, that they should receive their wives again, and furnished with ships and provisions should make an expedition by sea, and possessing themselves of a land and a city elsewhere should be accounted a colony and allies of the Lacedemonians. These things did the Pelasgians, taking Pollis for their captain and Crataedas his brother, both Lacedemonians, and one part of them took up their seat in Melos; but the most part of them, which were shipped with Pollis, sailed into Crete, trying the truth of the oracles, by whom they were told that, when they should lose their Goddess and their anchor, then they should put an end to their roving and there build a city. Wherefore, putting into harbor on that part of Crete called Chersonesus, panic fears fell upon them by night, at which coming under a consternation, they leaped tumultuously on board their ships, leaving on shore for haste the wooden statue (xoanon) of Artemis, which was their patrimony brought from Brauron to Lemnos, and from Lemnos carried about with them wherever they went. The tumult being appeased, when they had set sail, they missed this statue; and at the same time Pollis, finding that his anchor had lost one of its beards (for the anchor, having been dragged, as appeared, through some rocky place, was accidentally torn), said that the oracular answer of the Pythia was accomplished. Therefore he gave a sign to tack about, and accordingly made an inroad into that country, conquered those that opposed him in many battles, sat down at Lyctus, and brought many other cities to be tributary to him. And now they repute themselves to be akin to the Athenians on their mothers' side, and to be Spartan colonies. 

9  Of the Lycian Women: That which is reported to have fallen out in Lycia, although it be fabulous, hath yet common fame attesting it. Amisodarus, as they say, whom the Lycians call Isaras, came from a colony of the Lycians about Zeleia, bringing with him pirate ships, which Chimarrhus, a warlike man, who was also savage and brutish, was commander of. He sailed in a ship which had a lion carved on her head and a dragon on her stern. He did much mischief to the Lycians, so that they could not sail on the sea nor inhabit the towns nigh the sea-coast. This man Bellerophon pursued with his Pegasus and slew him, and also defeated the Amazons, for which he obtained no due requital, but Iobates the king was most unjust to him; upon which Bellerophon went to the seashore, and made earnest supplication by himself to Poseidon that he would render that country barren and unfruitful; and having said his prayers, he faced about. Upon which the waves of the sea arose and overwhelmed the land, and it was a dreadful sight to behold the lofty billows following Bellerophon and drowning the plain. And now, when the men by their deprecation, laboring to put a stop to Bellerophon, availed nothing at all, the women plucking up their petticoats met him full butt; upon which confounded with shame he turned back again, and the flood, as they say, returned with him. But some unriddle the fabulous part of this story, by telling us that it was not by execrations that he brought up the sea; but the fattest part of the plain lying lower than the sea, and a certain ridge extending itself all along the shore which beat off the sea, Bellerophon broke through this, so that the sea forcibly flowed in and overwhelmed the plain; and when the men by their humble addresses obtained nothing, the women assembling about him in multitudes gained respect from him and pacified his wrath. Some tell us that the celebrated Chimaera was a mountain opposite to the sun, which caused reflections of the sun's beams, and in summer ardent and fiery heats, which spread over the plain and withered the fruits; and Bellerophon, finding out the reason of the mischief, cut through the smoothest part of the cliff, which especially caused these reflections. But on seeing that he was treated ungratefully, his indignation was excited to take vengeance on the Lycians, but was appeased by the women. The reason which Nymphis (in the fourth book concerning Heraclea) doth assign is to me not at all fabulous; for he saith, when Bellerophon slew a certain wild boar, which destroyed the cattle and fruits in the province of the Xanthians, and received no due reward of his service, he prayed to Poseidon for vengeance, and obtained that all the fields should cast forth a salt dew and be universally corrupted, the soil becoming bitter; which continued till he, condescendingly regarding the women suppliants, prayed to Poseidon, and removed his wrath from them. Hence there was a law among the Xanthians, that they should not for the future derive their names from their fathers, but from their mothers. 

10  Of the Women of Salmantica: When Hannibal, the son of Barca, besieged the great city Salmantica in Spain, before he fought against the Romans, at the first assault the besieged citizens were surprised with fear, insomuch that they consented to grant him his demands, and to give him three hundred talents of silver and three hundred hostages. Upon which he raised his siege; when they changed their minds, and would not perform any thing that they had promised. Wherefore returning again to his siege, he gave command to his soldiers to take the city by storm, and fall to the plundering their goods. At this the barbarians, struck universally into a panic fear, came to terms of composition, for the free citizens to depart the city with their clothes to their backs, but to leave their weapons, goods, slaves, and city behind them. Now the women supposed that, although the enemies would strictly search every man as he departed, yet the women would go untouched. Accordingly, taking scimitars and hiding them under their coats, they fell in with the men as they marched out. When they were all gone out of the city, Hannibal sets a guard of Masaesylian soldiers, fixing their post without the gate, but the rest of his army fell promiscuously into the city to plunder. But the Masaesylians, seeing them busy in carrying away much spoil, were not able any longer to refrain or to mind the charge of their watch, taking it heinously that that was their lot, and therefore left their post and went to take their share of the booty. Upon this the women raised a shout to animate their husbands, and delivered the scimitars into their hands, and they themselves some of them fell upon the sentinels; insomuch that one of them, snatching away the spear of Banon the interpreter, smote him with it, though he was armed with a breastplate. And as for the rest, the men routed and put some to flight and slew others, making their escape by charging through them in a great body together with the women. Hannibal, being made acquainted with these things, pursued them, and those he took he slew; but some betaking themselves to the mountains easily made their escape, and afterwards, sending in their humble supplications, were admitted by him into the city, obtaining indemnity and civil usage. 

11  Of the Women of Milesia: A certain dreadful and monstrous distemper did seize the Milesian maids, arising from some hidden cause. It is most likely the air had acquired some infatuating and venomous quality, that did influence them to this change and alienation of mind; for all on a sudden an earnest longing for death, with furious attempts to hang themselves, did attack them, and many did privily accomplish it. The arguments and tears of parents and the persuasion of friends availed nothing, but they circumvented their keepers in all their contrivances and industry to prevent them, still murdering themselves. And the calamity seemed to be an extraordinary divine stroke and beyond human help, until by the counsel of a wise man a decree of the senate was passed, enacting that those maids who hanged themselves should be carried naked through the market-place. The passage of this law not only inhibited but quashed their desire of slaying themselves. Note what a great argument of good nature and virtue this fear of disgrace is; for they who had no dread upon them of the most terrible things in the world, death and pain, could not abide the imagination of dishonor and exposure to shame even after death. 

12  Of the Women of Cius: It was a custom among the maids of Cius to assemble together in the public temples, and to pass the day together in good fellowship; and there their sweethearts had the felicity to behold how prettily they sported and danced about. In the evening this company went to the house of every particular maid in her turn, and waited upon each other's parents and brethren very officiously, even to the washing of their feet. It oftentimes so fell out that many young men fell in love with one maid; but they carried it so decently and civilly that, when the maid was espoused to one, the rest presently gave off courting of her. The effect of this good order among the women was that no mention was made of any adultery or fornication among them for the space of seven hundred years. 

13  Of the Phocian Women: When the tyrants of Phocis had taken Delphi, and the Thebans undertook that war against them which was called the Holy War, certain women devoted to Dionysos (which they call Thyades) fell frantic and went a gadding by night, and mistaking their way they came to Amphissa; and being very much tired and not as yet in their right wits, they flung down themselves in the market-place, and fell asleep as they lay scattered up and down here and there. But the wives of the Amphisseans, fearing, because that city was engaged to aid the Phocians in the war and abundance of the tyrants' soldiery were present in the city, the Thyades might have some indignity put upon them, ran forth all of them into the market-place and stood silently round about them, neither would offer them any disturbance whilst they slept; but when they were awake, they attended their service particularly and brought them refreshments; and in fine, by persuasions obtained leave of their husbands to accompany them and escort them in safety to their own borders. 

14  Valeria and Cloelia: The injury done to Lucretia and her great virtue were the causes of banishing Tarquinius Superbus, the seventh Roman king from Romulus, she being married to an illustrious man, one of the royal race. She was ravished by one of Tarquin's sons, who was in a way of hospitality entertained by her; and after she had acquainted her friends and family with the abuse offered her, she immediately slew herself. Tarquiniushaving fallen from his dominion, after many battles that he fought in attempting to regain his kingly government, at last prevailed with Porsena, prince of the Etrurians, to encamp against Rome with a powerful army. Whereupon the Romans, being pressed with war and famine at the same time, likewise knowing that Porsena was not only a great soldier but a just and civil person, resolved to refer the matters against Tarquinius to him as a judge. This proposal Tarquinius obstinately refused to consent unto, saying that Porsena could not be a just arbitrator if he did not remain constant to his military alliance. Whereupon Porsena left him to himself, and made it his endeavor to depart a friend to the Romans, on condition of having restored to him the tracts of land they had cut off from the Etrurians and the captives they had taken. Upon these accepted conditions hostages being given, — ten male children, and ten females (among whom was Valeria, the daughter of Publicola the consul), — he immediately ceased his warlike preparations before the articles of agreement were quite finished. Now the virgin hostages going down to the river, as if they intended only to wash themselves a little further than ordinary from the camp, there, by the instigation of one of them whose name was Cloelia, wrapping their garments about their heads, they cast themselves into that great river Tiber, and assisting one another, swam through those vast depths with much labor and difficulty. There are some who say that Cloelia compassing a horse got upon him, and passing over gently before, the rest swimming after her, conducted, encouraged, and assisted them; the argument they use for this we shall declare anon. As soon as the Romans saw the maids had made such a clever escape, they admired indeed their fortitude and resolution, but did not approve of their return, not abiding to be worse in their faith than any one man; therefore they charged the maids to return back, and sent them away with a safe conduct. Tarquinius laid wait for them as they passed the river, and wanted but little of intercepting the virgins. But Valeria with three of her household servants made her flight to the camp of Porsena; and as for the rest, Aruns, Porsena's son, gave them speedy help and delivered them from the enemies. When they were brought, Porsena looking upon them commanded them to tell him which of them advised and first attempted this enterprise; all of them being surprised with fear, except Cloelia, were silent, but she said, that she was the author of it; at which Porsena, mightily surprised, commanded an horse curiously adorned with trappings should be brought, which he gave to Cloelia, and dismissed them all with much generosity and civility; and this is the ground which many make of saying that Cloeliapassed through the river on horseback. Others deny this story, but yet say that Porsena admiring the undauntedness and confidence of the maid, as being beyond what is commonly in a woman, bestowed a present on her becoming a man champion. It is certain that there is the statue of a woman on horseback by the side of the Sacred Way, which some say represents Cloelia, others, Valeria. 

15  Of Micca and Megisto: Aristotimus having usurped tyranny over the people of Elis in Peloponnesus, against whom he prevailed by the aid of King Antigonus, used not his power with any meekness or moderation. For he was naturally a savage man; and being in servile fear of a band of mixed barbarians, who guarded his person and his government, he connived at many injurious and cruel things which his subjects suffered at their hands, among which was the calamity of Philodemus. This man had a beautiful daughter, whose name was Micca. This maid one of the tyrant's captains of auxiliaries, called Lucius, attempted to lie with, more out of a design to debauch her than for any love he had to her; and for this end he sent to fetch her to him. The parents verily seeing the strait they were in advised her to go; but the maid, being of a generous and courageous spirit, clasped about her father, beseeching him with earnest entreaties that he would rather see her put to death than that her virginity should be filthily and wickedly violated. Some delay being made, Lucius himself starts up in the midst of his cups, enraged with wrath and lust, and drunk with wine; and finding Micca laying her head on her father's knees, he instantly commanded her to go along with him; but she refusing, he rent off her clothes, and whipped her stark naked, she stoutly enduring the smart in silence. When her father and mother perceived that by their tears they could not avail or bring any succor to her, they turned to imploring the help of both Gods and men, as persons that were oppressed by the most cruel and unrighteous proceedings. But this barbarous fellow, drunk and raging every way with madness, ran the maid through as she lay with her face in her father's bosom. Neither was the tyrant affected with these cruelties, but slew many and sent more into exile; for they say eight hundred took their flight into Aitolia, petitioning the tyrant that their wives and children might come to them. A little after he made proclamation, permitting the women that would to go to their husbands, carrying with them all their household goods that they pleased; but when he perceived that all the women received the proclamation with pleasure (for the number was above six hundred), he charged them all to go in great companies on the appointed day, as if he intended to consult for their safety. When the day came, they crowded at the gates with their goods packed up, carrying their children, some in their arms and some in carts, and stayed for one another. All on a sudden many of the tyrant's creatures made towards them in great haste, crying aloud to them to stay, while they were yet at great distance from them; and as they approached, they charged the women to return back. Likewise turning about their chariots and carts, they forced them upon them, drove the horses through the midst of them without fear or wit, suffering the women neither to follow nor to stay, nor to reach forth any help to the perishing infants, some of whom were killed falling out of the carts, others run over by the carts. So they drove them in (as so many sheep which butchers drive along), hauling and whipping them as they thronged upon one another, till they had crowded them all into a prison; but their goods they returned to Aristotimus. The people of Elis taking these things very heinously, the priestesses devoted to Dionysos (which they call the Sixteen), taking with them their suppliant boughs and wreaths belonging to the service of their God, went to meet Aristotimus in the market-place; the guards, out of a reverential awe, stood off and gave way to their approach. These priestesses stood still at first with silence, solemnly reaching forth their supplicatory rods; but as soon as they appeared as petitioners and deprecators of his wrath against the women, he fell into a great rage at the guards, exclaiming against them that they had suffered the priestesses to approach his presence, and he caused some to be thrust away, others to be beaten and dragged through the market-place, and fined them two talents apiece. These things being transacted in this manner, one Hellanicus moved a conspiracy against this tyrant. He was a man who, by reason of old age and the loss of two sons by death, was unsuspected of the tyrant, as being altogether unlikely for action. In the mean time also the exiles waft themselves over from Aitolia, and take Amymona, a very convenient place on the borders to entrench a camp in, where they received great numbers of the citizens who made their escape by flight from Elis. Aristotimus being startled at these things went in to the imprisoned women, and thinking to work them to his pleasure more by fear than by favor, charged them to send letters to their husbands, enjoining them to depart out of the coasts; if they would not write, he threatened them to slay their children before their eyes, and then put them (the mothers) to death by torments. Whilst he was long provoking and urging them to declare whether they would obey his mandates or not, most of them answered him nothing, but looked with silence one upon another, signifying by nods and gestures that they were not at all affrighted at his threat. But Megisto the wife of Timocleon, who both in respect of her husband and her own excellent accomplishments carried the port of a princess among them, would not vouchsafe to rise off her seat to him nor permit the rest so to do, but as she sat, she gave him this answer: "Verily if thou wert a discreet man, thou wouldst not after this manner discourse with women about their husbands, but wouldst send to them as to our lords, finding out better language than that by which thou hast deluded us. But if thou thyself despairest to prevail with them, and therefore undertakest to trepan them by our means, do not hope to put a cheat upon us again. And may they never be guilty of such baseness, that for the saving their wives and little ones they will desert that liberty of their native country; for it is not so great a prejudice to them to lose us, whom even now they are deprived of, as it will be benefit to set the subjects at liberty from thy cruelty and oppression." Aristotimus, being not able to refrain himself at this speech of Megisto, required that her son should be brought, as if it were to slay him before her eyes; but whilst the officer was seeking out the child, that was in the company of other children playing and wrestling together, his mother called him by his name, and said: Come hither, my child; before thou hast any sense and understanding, be thou delivered from bitter tyranny; for it would be much more grievous to me to see thee basely enslaved than to see thee die. At which Aristotimus drawing his sword upon the mother herself, and transported with rage, was going to fall upon her, when one of his favorites, Cylon by name (esteemed his trusty confidant, but in reality a hater of him, and a confederate with Hellanicus in the conspiracy), put a stop to him, and averted him in an humble manner, telling him: This is an ignoble and woman-like carriage, not at all becoming a person of a princely mind and a statesman. Hereupon Aristotimus scarcely coming to his senses departed. Now observe what an ominous prodigy happened to him. It was about noon, when he was taking some repose, his wife sitting by; and whilst his servants were providing dinner, an eagle was seen in the air floating over the house, which did, as it were considerately and on purpose, let fall a stone of an handsome bigness upon that part of the roof of the house which was over the apartment where Aristotimus lay. At the same time there was also a great rattling from above, together with an outcry made by the people that were abroad looking upon the bird. Upon which Aristotimus, falling into a great consternation and examining the matter, sent and called his soothsayer which he usually consulted in his public concerns, and being in great perplexity, desired to be satisfied what that prodigy meant. The soothsayer bade him be of good cheer, for it signified that Zeus now wakened and assisted him. But to the citizens that he could confide in he said, that vengeance would no longer be delayed from falling on the tyrant's head. Wherefore it was concluded by Hellanicus and his friends not to defer any longer, but to bring matters to an issue the next day. At night Hellanicus imagined in his sleep that he saw one of his dead sons stand by him saying, What is the matter with thee, O father! that thou sleepest? Tomorrow thou shalt be governor of this city. Being animated by his vision, he encouraged the rest concerned with him. Now Aristotimus was informed that Craterus, coming to his aid with great forces, was encamped in Olympia; upon which he became so confidently secure, that he ventured to go without his guards into the market-place, Cylon only accompanying him. Wherefore Hellanicus, observing this opportunity, did not think good to give the signal to those that were to undertake the enterprise with him, but with a clear voice and lifting up both his hands, he spake saying: O ye good men! why do ye delay? Here is a fair theatre in the midst of your native country for you to contend in for the prize of valor. Whereupon Cylon in the first place drawing his sword smote one of Aristotimus's waiting gentlemen; but Thrasybulus and Lampis making a brisk opposition, Aristotimus escaped by flight into the temple of Zeus. Here slaying him, they dragged forth his corpse into the market-place, and proclaimed liberty to the citizens. Neither were the men there much before the women, who immediately ran forth with joyful acclamations, environing the men and binding triumphant garlands about their heads. The multitude presently rushed on upon the tyrant's palace, where his wife shutting herself into her bed-chamber hanged herself. He had also two daughters, maidens of most beautiful complexions, ripe for marriage. Those they laid hands on, and haled forth, with a desperate resolution to slay them, but first to torment and abuse them. But Megisto, with the rest of the women, meeting them called out with a loud voice: Will they perpetrate such enormities who reckon themselves a free people, in imitation of the practices of audacious and libidinous tyrants? The multitude reverencing the gravity of this matron, pleading with them so undauntedly as also affectionately with tears, they resolved to lay aside this opprobrious way of proceeding, and to cause them to die by their own hands. As they were therefore returned into the chamber, they required the maids immediately to be their own executioners. Muro, the eldest, untying her girdle and tying it about her neck, saluted her sister, and exhorted her to be careful and do whatever she saw her do; lest (as she said) we come to our death in a base and unworthy manner. But the younger desiring it might be her lot to die first, she delivered her the girdle, saying: I did never deny thee any thing thou didst ever desire, neither will I now; take this favor also. I am resolved to bear and endure that which is more grievous than death to me, to see my most dear sister die before me. Upon this, when she had instructed her sister how to put the girdle so as to strangle her, and perceived her dead, she took her down and covered her. And now the eldest sister, whose turn was next, besought Megisto to take care of her, and not suffer her to lie indecently after she was dead. So that there was not any one present that was so bitter and vehement a tyrant-hater that he did not lament and compassionate these maidens upon their brave and virtuous behavior. Of the innumerable famous exploits performed by women, these examples may suffice. But as for their particular virtues, we will describe them according as they offer themselves scattered here and there, not supposing that our present history doth necessarily require an exact order of time. 

16  Of Pieria: Some of the Ionians who came to dwell at Miletus, falling into contention with the sons of Neleus, departed to Myus, and there took up their situation, where they suffered many injuries from the Milesians; for they made war upon them by reason of their revolt from them. This war was not indeed without truces or commerce, but upon certain festival days the women of Myus went to Miletus. Now there was at Myus Pythes, a renowned man among them, who had a wife called Iapygia, and a daughter Pieria. Pythes, when there was a time of feasting and sacrificing to Artemis among the Milesians, which they called Neleis, sent his wife and daughter, who desired to participate of the said feast; when one of the most potent sons of Neleus, Phrygius by name, fell in love with Pieria. He desired to know what service he could do which might be most acceptable to her. She told him, that he should bring it to pass that she with many others might have their frequent recourse thither. Hence Phrygiusunderstood that she desired friendship and peace with the citizens of Miletus; accordingly he finished the war. Whence arose that great honor and renown of Pieria in both cities; insomuch that the Milesian women do to this day make use of this benediction to new married wives, that their husbands may love them so as Phrygius loved Pieria. 

17  Of Polycrita: A war arose between the Naxians and Milesians upon the account of Neaera, the wife of Hypsicreon, a Milesian. For she fell in love with Promedon a Naxian, who was Hypsicreon's guest. Promedon lies with his beloved Neaera; and she, fearing her husband's displeasure, took shipping with her Promedon, who carried her over into Naxos and placed her a supplicant to Vesta. The Naxians not restoring her upon demand, for the sake of Promedon and making her devotion to Vesta their pretence, a war arose. To the assistance of the Milesians came in many others; and of the Ionians the Erythraeans were most ready. So that this war was of long continuance, and had great calamities attending it. But as it was begun by the lewdness of a woman, so it was ended by a woman's policy. Diognetus, a colonel of the Erythraeans, holding a fortification committed to his keeping, which was cast up against the Naxians, lying naturally to great advantage and well furnished with ammunition, took great spoils from the Naxians; yea, he captivated both free married women and virgins; with one of which, called Polycrita, he fell in love, and treated her not as a captive but after the manner of a married wife. Now a festival coming in turn to be celebrated among the Milesians in the camp, and all of them given to their cups and luxury, Polycrita petitioned Diognetus that he would be pleased to permit her to send some part of the cakes to her brethren. He permitting and bidding her do it, she thrust into a cake a piece of lead engraven with writing, and commanded the bearer to say to her brethren that they alone by themselves should eat up what she had sent. Accordingly they met with the plate of lead, and read Polycrita's hand-writing, advising them that night to fall upon their enemies, who, by reason of excess caused by their feastings, were overcome with wine and therefore in a careless secure condition. They acquainted the officers with it, and urged them to accompany them forth against the enemies. Upon engagement the stronghold being gotten and many slain, Polycrita by entreaty of her countrymen obtained the life of Diognetus and preserved him. But she being met by her countrymen at the gate, who received her with acclamations of joy and garlands, and greatly applauded her deed, could not bear the greatness of the joy, but died, falling down at the gate of the citadel, where she was buried; and it is called the Sepulchre of Envy, as though some envious fortune had grudged Polycrita the fruition of so great honor. And thus do the Naxian writers declare the history. But Aristotle saith, that Polycrita was not taken captive, but that by some other way or means Diognetus seeing her fell in love with her, and was ready to give and do all that he could for the enjoying her. Polycrita promised to consent to him, provided she might obtain one only thing of him; concerning which, as the philosopher saith, she required an oath of Diognetus. When he had sworn, she required Delium to be delivered up to her (for the stronghold was called Delium), otherwise she would not yield to go with him. He, being besotted with lust and for his oath's sake, delivered up the place into the hands of Polycrita, and she to her countrymen. From henceforward they adjusted matters so equally, that the Naxians had free converse, as they pleased, with the Milesians. 

18  Of Lampsace: There were two brethren, Phobus and Blepsus, twins of the stock of Codrus, natives of Phocaea; of which two Phobus, the elder, threw himself from the Leucadian rocks into the sea, as Charon of Lampsacus hath told us in history. This Phobus, having potency and royal dignity, took a voyage into Parium upon the account of his own private concerns; and becoming a friend and guest to Mandron king of the Bebrycians, the same that were called Pituoessans, he aided and assisted him in the war against those of the bordering inhabitants that molested him. So that when Phobus was returning back by sea, Mandron showed great civility to him, promising to give him a part of his country and city, if he would bring over the Phocaeans and plant them as inhabitants in Pituoessa. Phobus therefore persuading his countrymen sent his brother to conduct them over as planters, and likewise the obligation was performed on Mandron's part according to expectation. But the Phocaeans taking great booty, prey, and spoils from the neighboring barbarians, were first envied, and afterwards became a terror to the Bebrycians; and therefore they desired to be rid of them. As for Mandron, being an honest and righteous person, they could not possess him against the Grecians; but he taking a long journey, they provided to destroy the Phocaeans by treachery. Mandron had a daughter called Lampsace, a virgin, who was acquainted with the plot; and first she endeavored to take off her friends and familiars from it, admonishing them what a dreadful and ungodly enterprise they were going upon, — to murder men that were benefactors, military auxiliaries, and now citizens. But when she could not prevail with them, she declared to the Grecians secretly what was plotting, and wished them to stand upon their guard. Upon this, the Phocaeans provided a sacrifice and feast, and invited the Pituoessans into the suburbs; on which, dividing themselves into two parts, with one they surprised the walls of the city, with the other they slew the men. Thus taking the city, they sent to Mandron, desiring him to join with their own rulers in the government. As for Lampsace, she died of a sickness, and they buried her sumptuously, and called the city Lampsace after her name. But when Mandron, avoiding all suspicion of betraying his people, refused to come to dwell among them, and desired this favor at their hands, that they would send him the wives and children of the deceased, the Phocaeans most readily sent them, offering them no injury at all. And ascribing in the first place heroic renown to Lampsace, in the last place they decreed a sacrifice to her as a Goddess, which they continue yearly to offer. 

19  ARETAPHILA: Aretaphila, a Cyrenaean, was not of ancient time, but lived in the time of the Mithridatic war. She arrived at such a degree of fortitude and experience in counsel as might be compared with the conduct of any heroic ladies. She was the daughter of Aeglator and the wife of Phaedimus, both renowned men. She was a great beauty, excelling in discretion, and was not unacquainted with the most knotty pieces of policy; but the common disasters of her native country rendered her famous. Nicocrates, having then usurped the tyranny over the Cyrenaeans, not only murdered many other citizens, but also assassinated Melanippus, a priest of Apollo, with his own hand, and held the priesthood himself. He slew also Phaedimus, the husband of Aretaphila, and married Aretaphila against her will. Unto a thousand other villanies he added this, that he set guards at the gates, who mangled the dead corpses as they were carrying forth, pricking them with their daggers and clapping hot irons to them, lest any citizen should be carried out privily under pretence of being a dead corpse. Aretaphila's own proper calamities were very grievous to her, although the tyrant, for the love that he bare to her, suffered her to enjoy a great part of his regal power; for his love had subdued him unto her, and to her alone was he gentle and manageable, being very rude and savage in his behavior to others. But that which troubled her more than other things was to see her miserable country suffering such horrid things in so base a manner; one citizen being slaughtered after another, without any hopes of a vindictive justice from any. The exiles also were altogether enfeebled, affrighted, and scattered here and there. Aretaphila therefore supposed herself to be the only hope remaining for the state; and emulating the famous and brave enterprises of Thebe of Pherae, although she was destitute of the faithful friends and helpers which circumstances afforded to Thebe, she laid a plan to despatch her husband by poison. But in setting herself about it, providing the materials, and trying many experiments with poisons, the matter could not be hid, but was discovered; and there being proof made of the attempt, Calbia, Nicocrates's mother, being naturally of a murdering implacable spirit, presently adjudged Aretaphila to torments and then to death. But love abated the rage of Nicocrates, and put him upon delay; and the vigorous manner in which Aretaphila met the accusation and defended herself gave some plausible ground for his hesitation. But when she was convicted by the clearest proofs, and the preparation she had made for the poison was even in sight, admitting no denial, she confessed that she provided poison, but not deadly poison. But truly, O sir, she said, I am contending for matters of great concern, no less indeed than the honor and power which by thy gracious favor I reap the fruit of. I am maligned by many ill women, whose poisons and treacheries I stand in fear of, and therefore have been persuaded to contrive something on the other side in my own defence. These are haply foolish and woman-like plots, but not such as deserve death, unless it seem good to thee as judge to take away thy wife's life on account of love-potions and charms, which she has used because she wishes to be loved by thee more than thou wouldst have her. Notwithstanding this defence which Aretaphila had made for herself, Nicocrates thought good to commit her to torments; and Calbia presided in the judicature, rigid and inexorable. But Aretaphila bore up invincibly under her tortures, till Calbia herself was tired, sore against her will. But Nicocrates being pacified discharged her, and was sorry he had tortured her. And it was not very long ere he went in again unto her, being highly transported with affection, renewing his favor towards her with honors and courteous behavior. But she would not be brought under by flattery, who had held out so stoutly under tortures and pains; and an emulation of victory, conjoined with the love of honesty, made her betake herself to other measures. She had a daughter marriageable, an excellent beauty. Her she presented for a bait to the tyrant's brother, a young stripling and lasciviously addicted. There was a report, that Aretaphila used such enchantments and witchcrafts towards the maid, that she plainly charmed and destroyed the young man's reason. He was called Leander. After he was entangled, he petitioned his brother and accomplished the marriage. Now the maid, being instructed by her mother, instigated and persuaded him to set the city at liberty, insinuating that he himself could not live long free under an arbitrary government, nor could he marry a wife or reserve her to himself. Also some friends, Aretaphila's favorites, suggested to him continually some accusations or surmises concerning his brother. But as soon as he perceived that Aretaphila was counselling and aiding in these matters, he undertook the business, and excited Daphnis a household servant, who slew Nicocrates by his command. In what followed, he attended not so much to Aretaphila, but presently manifested by his actions that he was rather a fratricide than a tyrannicide; for he managed his affairs perversely and foolishly. But yet he had some honor for Aretaphila, and she had some influence with him; neither did she manage any enmity or open opposition against him, but ordered her affairs privily. First of all, she stirred up an African war against him, and incited Anabus, a certain duke, to invade his borders and approach the city; and then she buzzed into Leander's head suspicions against the favorites and officers, saying that they were not forward to fight but rather ambitious of peace and tranquillity, which indeed (she said) the state of affairs and the security of his dominion required of him if he would hold his subjects in firm subjection; and she would effect a cessation of arms and bring Anabus to a parley with him, if he would permit it, before an incurable war should break forth. Leandergave her commission. First she treated with the African, and with the promise of great presents and treasures begged that he would seize Leander when he came to treat with him. The African was persuaded, but Leander was backward to it; only for the respect that he bore to Aretaphila, who said that she would be present, he went unarmed and unguarded. But as he came nigh and saw Anabus, he made a halt, and would have waited the coming of his guards; only Aretaphila being present sometimes encouraged him, sometimes reviled him. But at last, when he still hesitates, she undauntedly lays hold on him, and dragging him resolutely along, delivers him to the barbarian. He was immediately seized, confined, and bound, and kept prisoner by the African, until Aretaphila's friends, with other citizens, procured the treasures promised. Many people acquainted with this ran forth to the parley; and as soon as they saw Aretaphila, they were so transported that they had like to have forgot their indignation against the tyrant, and reckoned the punishing him of no great concern. But the first work after the enjoyment of their liberty was the saluting Aretaphila, between acclamations of joy and weeping, and falling down before her, as before the statue of one of the Gods. And the people flocked in one after another, so that they scarcely had time that evening to receive Leander again and return into the city. When they had satisfied themselves in honoring and applauding Aretaphila, they turned themselves to the tyrants; and Calbia they burnt alive, Leander they sewed up in a sack and threw him into the sea, but they voted that Aretaphila should bear her share in the government together with the statesmen, and be taken into counsel. But she, by great sufferings having acted a tragi-comedy consisting of various parts, and at last obtained the reward of the garland, as soon as she saw the city set at liberty, betook herself to her private apartment; and casting off all multiplicity of business, she led the rest of her time in spinning, and finished her days in tranquillity among her friends and acquaintance. 

20  CAMMA: There were two most potent persons among the tetrarchs of Galatia, allied by kin to each other, Sinatus and Synorix; one of which, Sinatus, took a maid to wife, Camma by name, very comely to behold for person and favor, but principally to be admired for virtue. For she was not only modest and loving to her husband, but discreet and of a generous mind. And by reason of her gentle and courteous behavior she was extremely acceptable to her inferiors; yea, that which rendered her more eminently renowned was, that being a priest of Artemis (for the Galatians worship that goddess most) she did always appear magnificently adorned in all sacred processions and at the sacrifices. Wherefore Synorix, falling in love with her, could not prevail either by persuasions or violence, whilst her husband lived. He commits a horrid crime, — he slays Sinatus treacherously, — and not long after accosts Camma, whilst she abode within the temple, and bore Synorix's crime not in an abject and despondent manner, but with a mind intent upon revenge on Synorix, and only waiting an opportunity. He was importunate in his humble addresses, neither did he seem to use arguments that were without all show of honesty. For as in other things he pretended that he far excelled Sinatus, so he slew him for the love he bare to Camma and for no other wicked design. The woman's denials were at first not very peremptory, and then by little and little she seemed to be softened towards him. Her familiars and friends also lay at her in the service and favor of Synorix, who was a man of great power, persuading and even forcing her. In fine therefore she consented, and accordingly sent for him to come to her, that the mutual contract and covenant might be solemnized in the presence of the Goddess. When he came, she received him with much courtesy, and bringing him before the altar and pouring out some of the drink-offering upon the altar out of the bowls, part of the remainder she drank herself and part she gave him to drink. The cup was poisoned mead. As she saw him drink it all up, she lifted up a shrill loud voice, and fell down and worshipped her Goddess, saying: I call thee to witness, O most reverend Divinity! that for this very day's work's sake I have over-lived the murder of Sinatus, no otherwise taking any comfort in this part of my life but in the hope of revenge that I have had. And now I go down to my husband. And for thee, the lewdest person among men, let thy relations prepare a sepulchre, instead of a bride-chamber and nuptials. When the Galatian heard these things, and perceived the poison to wamble up and down and indispose his body, he ascended his chariot, hoping to be relieved by the jogging and shaking. But he presently alighted, and put himself into a litter, and died that evening. Camma continued all that night, and being told that he had ended his life, she comfortably and cheerfully expired. 

21  STRATONICA: Galatia also produced Stratonica the wife of Deiotarus, and Chiomara the wife of Ortiagon, both of them women worth remembrance. Stratonica knowing that her husband wanted children of his own body to succeed in his kingdom, she being barren persuaded him to beget a child on another woman, and subject it to her tutelage. Deiotarus admiring her proposal, committed all to her care upon that account. She provided a comely virgin for him from among the captives, Electra by name, and brought her to lie with Deiotarus. The children begotten of her she educated very tenderly and magnificently, as if they had been her own. 

22  CHIOMARA: It fell out that Chiomara, the wife of Ortiagon, was taken captive with other women, in the time when the Romans under Cnaeus Manlius overcame the Galatians of Asia in battle. The centurion that took her made use of his fortune soldier-like and defiled her; for he was, as to voluptuousness and covetousness, an ill-bred and insatiable man, over whom avarice had gotten an absolute conquest. A great quantity of gold being promised by the woman for her ransom, in order to her redemption he brought her to a certain bank of a river. As the Galatianspassed over and paid him the money in gold, and received Chiomara into their possession, she gave an intimation of her pleasure to one of them by nod, — to smite the Roman while he was kissing and taking his leave of her. He obeyed her commands and cut off his head. She takes it, wraps it up in her apron, and carries it with her; and as she comes to her husband, she casts down the head before him, at which being startled he said, O wife! thy fidelity is noble. Yea, verily, replied she, it is a nobler thing that there is now but one man alive that hath ever lain with me. Polybius saith that he discoursed with this woman at Sardis, and admired her prudence and discretion. 

23  OF THE WOMAN OF PERGAMUS: When Mithridates sent for sixty noblemen of Galatia as friends, he seemed to carry himself abusively and imperiously towards them, which they were all mightily provoked at. Poredorix, a man of a robust body and lofty mind, who was no less than tetrarch of the Tosiopae, designed to lay hold on Mithridates, seizing him when he should be determining causes on the bench of judicature in the gymnasium, and to force him bench and all into the ditch; but by a certain chance he went not up to the place of judicature that day, but sent for the Galatians to come home to him to his house. Poredorix encouraged them all to be of good courage, and when they should be all come together there, to fall upon him on every side, slay him, and cut his body in pieces. This conspiracy was not unknown to Mithridates, an intimation of it being given him; accordingly he delivers up the Galatians one by one to be slain. But calling to mind a young man among them, who excelled in comeliness and beauty all whom he knew, he commiserated him and repented himself and was apparently grieved, supposing him slain among the first, and also sent his command, that if he were alive he should remain so. The young man's name was Bepolitanus. There was a strange accident befell this man. When he was apprehended, he had on very gay and rich apparel, which the executioner desired to preserve clean from being stained with blood; and undressing the young man leisurely, he saw the king's messengers running to him and calling out the name of the youth. So that covetousness, which is the ruin of many, unexpectedly saved the life of Bepolitanus. But Poredorix being slain was cast forth unburied, and none of his friends did dare to come near him; only a certain woman of Pergamus, that was conversant with him while he lived at Galatia, attempted to cover his corpse and bury it. But when the guards perceived her, they laid hold on her and brought her before the king. And it is reported that Mithridates was much affected at the sight of her, the young maid seeming altogether harmless, and the more so, as it seemed, because he knew that love was the reason of her attempt. He gave her leave therefore to take away the corpse and bury it, and to take grave-clothes and ornaments at his cost. 

24  TIMOCLEA: Theagenes the Theban, who held the same sentiments with regard to his country's welfare with Epaminondas, Pelopidas, and the other most worthy Thebans, was slain in Chaeronea, in the common disaster of Greece, even then when he had conquered his enemies and was in pursuit of them. For it was he that answered one who cried out aloud to him, How far wilt thou pursue? Even (saith he) to Macedonia. When he was dead, his sister survived him, who gave testimony that he was nobly descended, and that he was naturally a great man and excellently accomplished. Moreover, this woman was so fortunate as to reap a great benefit by her prowess, so that the more public calamities fell upon her, so much the easier she bore them. For when Alexander took Thebes and the soldiers fell a plundering, some in one part and some in another, it happened that a man, neither civil nor sober but mischievous and mad, took up his quarters in Timoclea's house. He was a captain to a Thracian company, and the king's namesake, but nothing like him; for he having no regard either to the family or estate of this woman, when he had swilled himself in wine after supper, commanded her to come and lie with him. Neither ended he here, but enquired for gold and silver, whether she had not some hid by her; sometimes threatening as if he would kill her, sometimes flattering as if he would always repute her in the place of a wife. She, taking the occasion offered by him, said: "Would God I had died before this night came, rather than lived to it; that though all other things had been lost, I might have preserved my body free from abuse. But now seeing it is thus come to pass, and Divine Providencehath thus disposed of it that I must repute thee my guardian, lord, and husband, I will not hold any thing from thee that is thine own. And as for myself, I see I am at thy disposition. As for corporeal enjoyments, the world was mine, I had silver bowls, I had gold, and some money; but when this city was taken, I commanded my maids to pack it up altogether, and threw it, or rather put it for security, into a well that had no water in it. Neither do many know of it, for it hath a covering, and nature hath provided a shady wood round about it. Take then these things, and much good may they do thee; and they shall lie by thee, as certain tokens and marks of the late flourishing fortune and splendor of our family." When the Macedonian heard these things, he stayed not for day, but presently went to the place by Timoclea's conduct, commanding the garden-door to be shut, that none might perceive what they were about. He descended in his morning vestment. But the revengeful Clotho brought dreadful things upon him by the hand of Timoclea, who stood on the top of the well; for as soon as she perceived by his voice that he reached the bottom, she threw down abundance of stones upon him, and her maids rolled in many and great ones, till they had dashed him to pieces and buried him under them. As soon as the Macedonians came to understand this and had taken up the corpse, there having been late proclamation that none of the Thebans should be slain, they seized her and carried her before the king and declared her audacious exploit; but the king, who by the gravity of her countenance and stateliness of her behavior did perceive in her something that savored of the greatest worth and nobility, asked her first, What woman art thou? She courageously and undauntedly answered: Theagenes was my brother, who was a commander at Chaeronea, and lost his life fighting against you in defence of the Grecian liberty, that we might not suffer any such thing; and seeing I have suffered things unworthy of my rank, I refuse not to die; for it is better so to do than to experience another such a night as the last, which awaits me unless thou forbid it. All the most tender-spirited persons that were present broke out into tears; but Alexander was not for pitying her, as being a woman above pity. But he admired her fortitude and eloquence, which had taken strong hold on him, and charged his officers to have a special care and look to the guards, lest any such abuse be offered again to any renowned family; and dismissed Timoclea, charging them to have a special regard to her and all that should be found to be of her family. 

25  ERYXO: Arcesilaus was the son of Battus who was surnamed Felix, not at all like to his father in his conversation. His father, when he lived, laid a fine of a talent upon him for making fortifications about his house. After his father's death he being of a rugged disposition (therefore surnamed the Severe), and following the counsels of Laarchus, an ill friend, became a tyrant instead of a king. For Laarchus affecting the government for himself, either banished or slew the noblemen of Cyrene, and charged the fault upon Arcesilaus; and at last casting him into a wasting and grievous disease, by giving him the sea-hare in his drink, he deprived him of his life. So that Laarchus assumed the government, under pretence of being protector to Arcesilaus's young son Battus; but the youth, by reason either of his lameness or youthful age, was contemned. As for his mother, many made addresses to her, being a modest and courteous woman, and she had many of the commons and nobility at her devotion. Therefore Laarchus, pretending to be her humble servant, would needs marry her, and thereby take Battus to the dignity of being son and then allow him a share in the government. But Eryxo (for that was the woman's name), taking counsel of her brethren, bade Laarchus treat with them as if she had designed marriage; Laarchus accordingly treating with Eryxo's brethren, they on purpose delay and prolong the business. Eryxo sends one of her maid-servants acquainting him, that for the present her brethren did oppose the match, but if they could but accomplish it so as to lie together once, her brethren would cease arguing the matter any farther, and would give their consent. He should therefore come to her by night, if he pleased; an entrance being once made in a business, the rest will succeed well enough. These things were mighty pleasing to Laarchus, and he was much inflamed by the woman's obliging carriage towards him, and declared that he would come to whatever place she should command him. These things Eryxo transacted with the privity of Polyarchus, her eldest brother. A time being now appointed for the congress, Polyarchus placed himself in his sister's bed-chamber, together with two young men that were sword-men, all out of sight, to revenge the death of his father, whom Laarchus had lately murdered. Eryxo sending at the time to acquaint him, he entered without his guard, and the young men falling upon him, he was wounded with the sword and died; the corpse immediately they threw over the wall. Battus they brought forth and proclaimed king over his father's dominions, and Polyarchus restored to the Cyrenaeans their ancient constitution of government. There were present at that time many soldiers of Amasis, the Egyptian king; whom Laar chus had employed and found faithful, and by whose means he had been not a little formidable to the citizens. These sent messengers to accuse Polyarchus and Eryxo to Amasis. At this the king was greatly incensed, and determined to make war upon the Cyrenaeans. But it happened that his mother died, and while he was solemnizing her funeral, ambassadors came and brought the news of his intentions to Cyrene. Wherefore it was thought best by Polyarchus to go and apologize for himself. Eryxo would not desert him, but was resolved to accompany him and run the same hazard with him. Nor would his mother Critola leave him, though she was an old woman; for great was her dignity, she being the sister of old Battus, surnamed Felix. As soon as they came into Egypt, as others with admiration approved of the exploit, so even Amasis himself did not a little applaud the chastity and fortitude of Eryxo, honoring her with presents and royal attendance, with which he sent back Polyarchus and the ladies into Cyrene. 

26  XENOCRITA: Xenocrita of Cumae deserves no less to be admired for her exploits against Aristodemus the tyrant, whom some have supposed to be surnamed the Effeminate, being ignorant of the true story. He was called by the barbarians Malakos (that is soft and effeminate) with regard merely to his youth; because, when he was a mere stripling, with other companions of the same age who wore long hair (whence they were called Coronistae, as it seems from their long hair), he became famous in the war against the barbarians. He was also not only renowned for resolution and activity, but very exceedingly remarkable for his discretion and providence; insomuch that being admired by the citizens he proceeded to the highest dominion among them. He was to bring aid to the Romans when they were in war with the Etrurians, who engaged to restore Tarquinius Superbus to his kingdom; in all which expedition, that was very long, he managed all affairs so as to ingratiate himself with the military part of the citizens, aiming more at the making himself head of a popular faction than general of the army. He accordingly prevailed with them to join with him in attacking the senate, and in casting out the citizens of highest rank and most potent into exile. Afterwards becoming tyrant, he was flagitious in his carriage towards women and free-born youth, and exceeded even himself in vileness. For history reports of him how that he accustomed the boys to wear their hair long and set with golden ornaments, and the girls he compelled to be polled round, and to wear youths' jerkins and short-tailed petticoats. Notwithstanding, he had a peculiar affection for Xenocrita, a girl of Cumae, left behind by her exiled father. Her he kept, but could not bring over to his humor by any insinuations or persuasions, neither had he gained her father's consent; however, he reckoned the maid would be brought to love him by constant conversation with him, since she would be envied and reputed very happy by the citizens. But these things did not at all besot the maid; but she took it heinously that she must be constrained to dwell with him, not espoused or married. Neither did she less long for the liberty of her native country than did those who were hated by the tyrant. It happened about that time that Aristodemus was casting up an entrenchment about the borders of Cumae, a work neither necessary nor profitable, only because he was resolved to tire out the citizens with hard toil and labor; for every one was required to carry out a stinted number of baskets of earth daily, in order to the delving this ditch. A certain maid, as she saw Aristodemus approaching, ran aside and covered her face with her apron; but when Aristodemus was withdrawn, the young men would sport and jest with her, asking her whether out of modesty she avoided only the sight of Aristodemus and was not so affected towards other men. She made answer designedly, rather than otherwise, that of the Cumaeans Aristodemus was the only man. This sentence thus spoken verily touched them all very near, for it provoked the generous-minded men among them for very shame to the recovering of their liberties. And it is said that Xenocrita was heard to say, that she had rather carry earth for her father, if he were at home, than participate in the great luxury and pomp of Aristodemus. These things added courage to them that were about to make an insurrection against Aristodemus, which Thymoteles had the chief management of; for Xenocrita providing them safe admittance, they easily rushed in upon Aristodemus, unarmed and unguarded, and slew him. In this manner the city of Cumae gained its liberty, by the virtue of two women; one by suggesting and invigorating the enterprise, the other by bringing it to an issue. When honors and great presents were tendered to Xenocrita, she refused all; but requested one thing, that she might bury the corpse of Aristodemus. This they delivered her, and made her a priestess of Demeter; reckoning that, as it was a deserved honor bestowed on her, so she would be no less acceptable to the Goddess. 

27  THE WIFE OF PYTHES: It is reported that the wife of Pythes, who lived at the time of Xerxes, was a wise and courteous woman. Pythes, as it seems, finding by chance some gold mines, and falling vastly in love with the riches got out of them, was insatiably and beyond measure exercised about them; and he brought down likewise the citizens, all of whom alike he compelled to dig or carry or refine the gold, doing nothing else; many of them dying in the work, and all being quite worn out. Their wives laid down their petition at his gate, addressing themselves to the wife of Pythes. She bade them all depart and be of good cheer; but those goldsmiths which she confided most in she required to wait upon her, and confining them commanded them to make up golden loaves, all sorts of junkets and summer-fruits, all sorts of fish and flesh meats, in which she knew Pythes was most delighted. All things being provided, Pythes coming home then (for he happened to go a long journey) and asking for his supper, his wife set a golden table before him, having no edible food upon it, but all golden. Pythes admired the workmanship for its imitation of nature. When, however, he had sufficiently fed his eyes, he called in earnest for something to eat; but his wife, when he asked for any sort, brought it of gold. Whereupon being provoked, he cried out, I am an hungered. She replied: Thou hast made none other provisions for us; every skilful science and art being laid aside, no man works in husbandry; but neglecting sowing, planting, and tilling the ground, we delve and search for useless things, killing ourselves and our subjects. These things moved Pythes, but not so as to give over all his works about the mine; for he now commanded a fifth part of the citizens to that work, the rest he converted to husbandry and manufactures. But when Xerxes made an expedition into Greece, Pythes, being most splendid in his entertainments and presents, requested a gracious favor of the king, that since he had many sons, one might be spared from the camp to remain with him, to cherish his old age. At which Xerxes in a rage slew this son only which he desired, and cut him in two pieces, and commanded the army to march between the two parts of the corpse. The rest he took along with him, and all of them were slain in the wars. At which Pythes fell into a despairing condition, so that he fell under the like suffering with many wicked men and fools. He dreaded death, but was weary of his life; yea, he was willing not to live, but could not cast away his life. He had this project. There was a great mound of earth in the city, and a river running by it, which they called Pythopolites. In that mound he prepared him a sepulchre, and diverted the stream so as to run just by the side of the mound, the river lightly washing the sepulchre. These things being finished, he enters into the sepulchre, committing the city and all the government thereof to his wife; commanding her not to come to him, but to send his supper daily laid on a sloop, till the sloop should pass by the sepulchre with the supper untouched; and then she should cease to send, as supposing him dead. He verily passed in this manner the rest of his life; but his wife took admirable care of the government, and brought in a reformation of all things amiss among the people.

1  Who are they at Epidaurus called Κονίποδες and Ἄϱτυνοι? Solution: The managers of the affairs of the commonwealth were one hundred and eighty men; out of these they elected senators, which they called ἄϱτυνοι. The most part of the common people were conversant in husbandry; these they called ϰονίποδες, because (as may be supposed) they were known by their dirty feet when they came into the city. 

2  What woman was that among the Cumans called Onobatis? Solution: This was one of the women taken in adultery, which they brought into the market-place, and set her upon a certain stone to be seen of all; from thence they took her and set her on ass-back, and led her round about the city, and afterwards set her up again upon the stone; the rest of her life she led under disgrace. Her they called Onobatis (the woman that rode upon an ass); hence they abominated the stone as unclean. There was also a certain magistrate among them, called Phylactes (a conservator); he that had this office kept the prison for the rest of his time; but at the nocturnal convention of the senators he came into the council, and laying hands on the kings led them forth, and detained them in custody until the senate had determined concerning them, by a vote given in private, whether they had acted unrighteously or not. 

3  Who is the Ὑπεϰϰαύστϱια in Soloi? Solution: They call the she-priest of Athena so, because she offers certain sacrifices and oblations for the averting of impending calamities. 

4  Who are the Ἀμνήμονες among the Cnidians, and who is the Ἀφεστήϱ? Solution: The sixty select men chosen from among the nobles, whom they used as overseers and principal counsellors for life in matters of greatest concern, they called Amnemones (as a man may suppose) because they were not accountable to any for what they did, or verily (in my opinion) rather because they were men carrying much business in their memories. And he that put questions to vote was called Aphester. 

5  Who were the Χϱηστοί among the Arcadians and Lacedemonians? Solution: When the Lacedemonianswere agreed with the Tegeats, they made a league with them, and set up a common pillar on the river Alpheus, upon which this is written, among other things, "Drive out the Messenians from your borders, and make none of them χϱηστοί, good." Aristotle interpreting this saith, that none of the Tegeats ought to be slain that endeavored to bring aid to the Lacedemonians. 

6  Who is Κϱιθολόγος among the Opuntians? Solution: The most of the Greeks did use barley at their ancient sacrifices, when the citizens offered their first-fruits; now they called him Crithologus who presided over the sacrifices and received the first-fruits. They had two priests, one that had the chief charge of the divine things, the other of daemonic affairs. 

7  What sort of clouds are the Ploiades? Solution: Showering clouds which were carried up and down were, for the most part, called Ploiades, as Theophrastus hath said expressly in his fourth book of Meteors: "Whereas indeed the Ploiades are those clouds which have a consistency and are not so movable, but as to color white, which discover a kind of different matter, neither very watery nor very windy." 

8  Who is called Platychaetas among the Boeotians? Solution: They that had many neighboring houses or bordering fields were so called in the Aeolic dialect, as having wide domains. I will add one saying out of the Thesmophylacian law, seeing there are many. . . . 

9  Who is he among the people of Delphi who is called Ὁσιωτήϱ? And why do they call one of the months Bysius? Solution: They call the slain sacrifice Ὁσιωτήϱ when the ὅσιος (the holy one) is declared. There are five of these holy ones for life, and these transact many things with the prophets, and sacrifice together with them, supposing that they are descended from Deucalion. The month Bysius, as many think, is the same as Φύσιος (natural), for it is in the beginning of the spring, when most things do sprout and put forth buds. But this is not the true reason. For the Delphians do not use B for PH (as the Macedonians, who say Bilippus, Balacrus, and Beronica, for Philippus, Phalacrus, and Pheronica), but instead of P; they for the most part saying βατεῖν for πατεῖν, and βιϰϱόν for πιϰϱόν. Therefore they say Bysius for Pysius, because in that month they enquire of and consult their God Apollo. This is their genuine and country way of speaking. For in that month an oracle is given forth, and they call that week the nativity of Apollo, and the name is Polythous, not because of their baking a sort of cakes called Pthides, but because then their oracle is full of answers and prophecies. For it is but of late that oraculous answers were given to the enquirers every month. In former times Pythia gave answers only once a year, which was on this day, as Callisthenes and Anaxandridas have told us. 

10  What is Phyxemelum? Solution: It is one of the small plants that creep upon the ground, upon whose branches the cattle treading do hinder, hurt, and spoil their growth. Where therefore they have attained some considerable bigness by growth, and escaped the injury of those that use to feed upon them, they are called φυξίμηλα (i.e. that have escaped the danger of cattle), of which Aeschylus is witness. 

11  Who are the Ἀποσφενδόνητοι? Solution: The Eretrians inhabited the island of Corcyra. But when Charicrates set sail from Corinth with a considerable strength and overcame them in battle, the Eretrians took shipping and sailed to their native country; of which thing the inhabitants of that country having timely notice, gave them a repulse, and by slinging stones at them impeded their landing. Now being not able either to persuade or force their way, seeing the multitude was implacably bent against them, they sailed into Thrace and took possession of that country, where they say Metho first inhabited, of whose offspring Orpheus was. The city therefore they call Methone, and by the neighboring inhabitants the men are called Aposphendoneti, i.e. they that were repulsed with sling-stones. 

12  What was Charila among the Delphians? Solution: The Delphians solemnized three nonennial feasts in regular order, of which they call one Stepterium, another Herois, and the third Charila. The Stepterium represents by imitation the fight which Apollo had with Python, and both his flight and pursuit after the fight unto Tempe. For some say that he fled, as needing purification by reason of the slaughter; others say that he pursued Pythonwounded, and flying along the highway which they now call Sacred, he just missed of being present at his death; for he found him just dead of his wound, and buried by his son, whose name was Aix, as they say. Stepterium therefore is the representation of these or some such things. But as to Herois, it hath for the most part a mysterious reason which the Thyades are acquainted with; but by the things that are publicly acted one may conjecture it to be the calling up of Semele from the lower world. Concerning Charila, they fable some such things as these. A famine by reason of drought seized the Delphians, who came with their wives and children as suppliants to the king's gate, whereupon he distributed meal and pulse to the better known among them, for there was not sufficient for all. A little orphan girl yet coming and importuning him, he beat her with his shoe, and threw his shoe in her face. She indeed was a poor wandering beggar-wench, but was not of an ignoble disposition; therefore withdrawing herself, she united her girdle and hanged herself. The famine hereupon increasing and many diseases accompanying it, Pythiagives answer to the king, that the maid Charila who slew herself must be expiated. They with much ado at last discovering that this was the maid's name which was smitten with a shoe, they instituted a certain sacrifice mixed with expiatory rites, which they yet solemnize to this day every ninth year. Whereat the king presides, distributing meal and pulse to all strangers and citizens (for they introduce a kind of an effigy of the wench Charila); and when all have received their doles, the king smites the idol with his shoe. Upon this the governess of the Thyades takes up the image and carries it away to some rocky place, and there putting a halter about its neck, they bury it in the place where they buried Charila when she had strangled herself. 

13  What is the beggars' meat among the Aenianes? Solution: Many have been the removes of the Aenianes. First they inhabited the plain of Dotion; thence they were expelled by the Lapithae to the Aethices; from thence they betook themselves to a region of Molossia about the Aous, where they were called Paravaeans; afterward they took possession of Cirrha; they had no sooner landed at Cirrha (Apollo so commanding their king Oinoclus) but they went down to the country bordering on the river Inachus, inhabited by the Inachians and Achaeans. There was an oracle given to the latter, that they would lose all their country if they should part with any of it, — and to the Aenianes, that they would hold it if they should take it of such as freely resigned it. Temo, a noted man among the Aenianes, putting on rags and a scrip, like a beggar, addressed himself to the Inachians; the king, in a way of reproach and scorn, gave him a clod of earth. He receives it and puts it up into his scrip, and absconds himself, making much of his dole; for he presently forsakes the country, begging no more. The old men wondering at this, the oracle came fresh to their remembrance; and going to the king, they told him that he ought not to slight this man, nor suffer him to escape. Temo well perceiving their designs, hastens his flight, and as he fled, vowed a hecatomb to Apollo. Upon this occasion the kings fought hand to hand; and when Phemius, the king of the Aenianes, saw Hyperochus, the king of the Inachians, charging him with a dog at his heels, he said he dealt not fairly to bring a second with him to fight him; whereupon Hyperochus going to drive away the dog, and turning himself about in order to throw a stone at the dog, Phemius slays him. Thus the Aenianes possessed themselves of that region, expelling the Inachians and Achaeans; but they reverence that stone as sacred, and sacrifice to it, wrapping it in the fat of the victim. And when they offer a hecatomb to Apollo, they sacrifice an ox to Zeus, a choice part of which they distribute to Temo's posterity, and call it the beggars' flesh. 

14  Who were the Coliads among the Ithacans? And what was a φάγιλος? Solution: After the slaughter of the suitors, some near related to the deceased made head against Ulysses. Neoptolemus, being introduced by both parties as an arbitrator, determined that Ulysses should remove and hasten out of Cephalenia, Zacynthus, and Ithaca, because of the blood that he had shed there; but that the friends and relations of the suitors should pay a yearly mulct to Ulysses, for the wrong done to his family. Ulysses therefore passed over into Italy; the mulct he devoted to his son, and commanded the Ithacans to pay it. The mulct was meal, wine, honey-combs, oil, salt, and for victims the better grown of the phagili. Aristotle saith phagilus was a lamb. And Telemachus, setting Eumaeusand his people at liberty, placed them among the citizens; and the family of the Coliads is descended from Eumaeus, and that of the Bucolians from Philoetius. 

15  What is the wooden dog among the Locrians? Solution: Locrus was the son of Physcius, the son of Amphictyon. Of him and Cabya came Locrus, with whom his father falling into contention, and gathering after him a great number of citizens, consulted the oracle about transplanting a colony. The oracle told him that there he should build a city, where he should happen to be bit by a wooden dog. He, wafting over the sea unto the next shore, trod upon a cynosbatus (a sweet brier), and being sorely pained with the prick, he spent many days there; in which time considering the nature of the country, he built Physcus and Euantheia, and other towns which the Ozolian Locrians inhabited. Some say that the Locrians were called Ozolians (strong-scented people) from Nessus — others again from Python the serpent — cast up there by the surf of the sea, and putrefying upon the shore. And some say that the men wore pelts and ram skins, living for the most part among the herds of goats, and therefore were strong-scented. Others contrariwise say that the country brought forth many flowers, and that this name was from their sweet odor; among them that assert this is Archytas the Amphissean, who hath wrote thus: Macyna crowned with vines fragrant and sweet. 

16  What manner of thing is that among the Megarians called ἀφάβϱωμα? Solution: Nisus, of whom Nisaea had its name, in the time of his reign married Abrota of Boeotia, the daughter of Onchestus and sister of Megareus, a woman (as it seems) excelling in prudence and singularly modest. When she died, the Megarians cordially lamented her; and Nisus, willing to perpetuate her memory and renown, gave command that the Megarian women should dress in apparel like unto that which she wore, and that dress they called for her sake aphabroma. And verily it is manifest that the oracle countenanced the veneration of this woman; for when the Megarian women would often have altered their garments, the oracle prohibited it. 

17  Who was called δοϱύξενος? Solution: The country of Megaris was anciently settled in villages, the inhabitants being divided into five parts; and they were called Heraenians, Piraenians, Megarians, Cynosurians, and Tripodiscaeans. These the Corinthians drew into a civil war, for they always contrived to bring the Megarians into their power. Yet they waged war with much moderation and neighborly designs; for no man did at all injure the husbandman, and there was a stated ransom determined for all that were taken captives. And this they received after the release of the prisoner, and not before; but he that took the captive prisoner brought him home, gave him entertainment, and then gave him liberty to depart to his own house. Wherefore he that brought in the price of his ransom was applauded, and remained the friend of him that received it, and was called doryxenus, from his being a captive by the spear; but he that dealt fraudulently was reputed an unjust and unfaithful person, not only by the enemy but by his fellow-citizens also. 

18  What is παλιντοϰία? Solution: When the Megarians had expelled Theagenes the tyrant, they managed the commonweal for some time with moderation. But then (to speak with Plato), when their orators had filled out to them, even to excess, the pure strong wine of liberty, they became altogether corrupt, and the poor carried themselves insolently toward the richer sort in this among other things, that they entered into their houses and demanded that they might be feasted and sumptuously treated. But where they prevailed not, they used violence and abusive behavior, and at last enacted a law to enable them to fetch back from the usurers the use-money which at any time they had paid, calling the execution thereof palintocia, i.e. the returning of use-money. 

19  What is the Anthedon of which Pythia speaks, Drink wine on th' lees, Anthedon's not thy home? For Anthedon in Boeotia did not produce much wine. Solution: Of old they called Calauria Irene from a woman Irene, which they fable to be the daughter of Poseidon and Melanthea, the daughter of Alpheus. Afterwards, when the people of Anthes and Hyperes planted there, they called the island Anthedonia and Hyperia. The oracle, as Aristotle saith, was this: Drink wine on th' lees, Anthedon's not thy home, Nor sacred Hypera where thou drank'st pure wine. Thus Aristotle; but Mnasigeiton saith that Anthus, who was brother to Hypera, was lost when he was an infant, and Hypera rambling about to find him, came at Pherae to Acastus (or Adrastus), where by chance he found Anthus serving as a wine-drawer. There while they were feasting, the boy bringing a cup of wine to his sister, he knew her, and said to her softly, Drink wine on th' lees, Anthedon's not thy home. 

20  What is that darkness at the oak, spoken of in Priene? Solution: The Samians and Prienians waging war with each other, as at other times they sufficiently injured each other, so at a certain great fight the Prienians slew a thousand of the Samians. Seven years after, fighting with the Milesians at the said oak, they lost all the principal and chief of their citizens together, at the time when Bias the Wise (who was sent ambassador from Priene to Samos) was famous. This grievous and sad calamity befalling the women, there was established an execration and oath — to be taken about matters of the greatest concern — by "the Darkness at the Oak," because their children, fathers, and husbands were there slain. 

21  Who were they among the Cretans called Καταϰαῦται? Solution: They say that the Tyrrhenians took away by force from Brauron the daughters and wives of the Athenians, at the time when they inhabited Lemnos and Imbros; from whence being driven they came to Laconia, and fell into a commixture with that people, even so far as to beget children on the native women. Thus, by reason of jealousy and calumnies, they were again constrained to leave Laconia, and with their wives and children to waft over into Crete, having Pollis and his brother their governors. There waging war with the inhabitants of Crete, they were fain to permit many of them that were slain in battle to lie unburied; in that at first they had no leisure, by reason of the war and peril they were in, and afterwards they shunned the touching of the dead corpses, being corrupted by time and putrefied. Therefore Pollis contrived to bestow certain dignities, privileges, and immunities, some on the priests of the Gods, and some on the buriers of the dead, consecrating their honors to the infernal Deities, that they should remain perpetual to them. Then he divided to his brother a share by lot. The first he named priests, the others catacautae (burners). But as to the government, each of them managed it apart, and had, among other tranquillities, an immunity from those injurious practices which other Cretans were wont to exercise towards one another privily; for they neither wronged them, nor filched or robbed any thing from them. 

22  What was the Sepulchre of the Boys at Chalcedon? Solution: Cothus and Arclus the sons of Zuthus came to Euboea to dwell, the Aeolians possessing the greatest part of the island at that time. The oracle told Cothus, that he should prosper and conquer his enemies if he bought the country. Therefore, going on shore a little after, he happened to meet with some children playing by the seaside; whereupon he fell to play with them, conforming himself to their humors and showing them many outlandish toys. Seeing the children very desirous to have these, he refused to give them any upon any other terms than to receive land for them. The boys, taking up some earth from the ground, gave it to him, receiving the toys, and departed. The Aeolians perceiving what was done, — and the enemies sailing in upon them, — moved by indignation and grief, slew the children and buried them near the wayside that goes from the city to the Euripus; and that place is called the Sepulchre of the Boys. 

23  Who is Μιξαϱχαγέτας in Argos? And who are the Ἐλάσιοι? Solution: They call Castor Mixarchagetas, and are of opinion that he was buried in the country; but they worship Pollux as one of the celestial Deities. Those which they supposed were able to drive away the falling sickness, they called Elasii (expellers), esteeming them to be of the posterity of Alexida the daughter of Amphiaraus. 

24  What is that which is called ἔγϰνισμα by the Argives? Solution: It was a custom among those that lost any of their kindred or acquaintance, presently after mourning to sacrifice to Apollo, and thirty days after to Hermes. For they are of opinion that, as the earth receives the bodies of the deceased, so Hermes receives their souls. Giving then barley to Apollo's minister, they take the flesh of the sacrifice, and extinguishing the fire as polluted but kindling it again afresh, they boil this flesh, calling it ἔγϰνισμα. 

25  Who are Ἀλάστωϱ, Ἀλιτήϱιος, and Παλαμναῖος? Solution: For we must not give credit to those that say that such are called aliterii who, in the time of dearth, watch the miller (ἀλοῦντα ἐπιτηϱοῦντες) and steal the corn. But he was called Alastor who did exploits not to be forgotten (ἄληστα) but to be had in remembrance for a long time. Aliterius is he whom we should avoid (ἀλεύασθαι) and observe upon the account of his knavery. Such things (saith Socrates) were engraven in plates of brass. 

26  What is the meaning of this, that the virgins that follow those that lead the ox from Aenos to Cassiopaea sing, till they approach the borders, in this manner, To native country dear O may ye ne'er return? Solution: The Aenianes, being first driven out by the Lapithae, took up their habitation about Aethacia, and then about Molossis and Cassiopaea. But the country affording no staple commodity, and being ill bestead with troublesome neighbors, they went into the Cirraean plain, under the conduct of Oinoclus their king. And when there were great droughts there, by warning from an oracle (as they say) they stoned Oinoclus; and betaking themselves to ramble again, they came into this country which they now possess, being very pleasant and fruitful. Whence with good reason they pray to the Gods that they may never return again to their ancient native country, but may abide where they are in prosperity. 

27  What is the reason that at Rhodes the crier never enters into the chapel of Ocridion? Solution: Was it because Ochimus espoused his daughter Cydippe to Ocridion? But Cercaphus, who was brother to Ochimus, falling in love with the maid, persuaded the crier (for it was the custom to fetch the brides by the crier) to bring her to him when she should be delivered to him. This being accordingly done, Cercaphus got the maid and fled; afterwards, when Ochimus was grown old, he returned. Wherefore it was enacted by the Rhodians that a crier should not enter into the chapel of Ocridion, because of the injustice done by him. 

28  What is the reason that at Tenedos a piper might not go into the temple of Tenes, and that no mention might be made of Achilles in that temple? Solution: Was it because, when his step-mother accused Tenes that he would have lain with her, Molpus a piper bore false witness against him; whereupon Tenes took occasion to fly into Tenedos with his sister? And they say that Achilles was strictly charged by Thetis his mother not to slay Tenes, as one that was much respected by Apollo, and that the Goddess committed the trust to one of the household servants that he should take special care and put him in mind of it, lest Achilles should kill Tenes at unawares. But when Achilles made an incursion into Tenedos and pursued the sister of Tenes, being very fair, Tenes met him and defended his sister; whereupon she escaped, but Tenes was slain. Achilles, knowing him as he fell down dead, slew his own servant, because he being present did not admonish him to the contrary. He buried Tenes, whose temple now remains, into which no piper enters, nor is Achilles named there. 

29  Who was the πωλήτης amongst the Epidamnians. Solution: The Epidamnians, who were neighboring to the Illyrians, perceiving that the citizens that had frequent commerce with them were debauched, and fearing an innovation, made choice of an approved man yearly from amongst them, who should deal as a factor with the barbarians in all matters of trade and traffic, managing the whole business of dealing and commerce on the behalf of all the citizens; and this man was called poletes, or the seller. 

30  What is the shore of Araenus in Thrace? Solution: The Andrians and Chalcidians sailing into Thrace to get them a seat, the city Sane being betrayed was delivered up to them both in common; and being told that Acanthuswas deserted by the barbarians, they sent two spies thither. These approaching the city and perceiving all the enemies to be fled, the Chalcidian outruns the other, intending to seize the city for the Chalcidians; but the Andrian, finding himself not able to overtake him, darts his lance and fixeth it exactly in the gates, and saith that he had first seized the city for the Andrians. Hence a great contention arising, they agreed together without a war to make the Erythraeans, Samians, and Parians umpires in all matters of controversy between them. The Erythraeans and Samians brought in the verdict for the Andrians, but the Parians for the Chalcidians; hence the Andrians about this place bound themselves under a curse, that they would not give wives in marriage to the Parians nor take wives of them. Therefore they called the place the Shore of Araenus (i.e. of the curse), whereas before it was called the Shore of the Dragon. 

31  In the solemn feasts to the honor of Demeter, why do the Eretrian women roast their meat not at the fire, but by the sun; and why do they not call upon Kalligeneia? Solution: Was it because it came in course to the women which Agamemnon carried captive from Troy to solemnize a feast to Demeter in this place, and while they were so doing, a fair wind arose, and they suddenly made sail, leaving the sacrifices imperfect. 

32  Who were the Ἀειναῦται amongst the Milesians? Solution: The tyrants Thoas and Damasenor being deposed, two factions got the government of the city, one of which was called Ploutis, the other Cheiromacha, and the potent men prevailing, they settled the state affairs in the association. And when they would sit in council about matters of greatest concern, they went on ship-board and launched out to a great distance from the shore; and when they were agreed upon a point in debate, they sailed back again, and upon this account were called ἀειναῦται (perpetual mariners). 

33  Why do the Chalcidians call a certain place about Pyrsopius the Ἀϰμαίων Λέσχη, the Youth's Conventicle? Solution: They say that Nauplius, being persecuted by the Achaeans, addressed himself to the Chalcidians for redress, making his defence against the accusation and recriminating on the Achaeans. Whereupon the Chalcidians, refusing to deliver him into their hands lest he should be slain by treachery, granted him a guard of lusty young men, and appointed their post in that place where they had mutual society together and guarded Nauplius. 

34  Who was he that sacrificed an ox to his benefactor? Solution: In a haven of Ithaca there was a pirate ship, in which happened to be an old man who had earthern pots holding pitch. It fell out that an Ithacan skipper named Pyrrhias put into this port, who ransomed the old man upon free cost, only upon his supplication and out of commiseration towards him, and at the request of the old man he purchased also some of his tar-pots. The piratesdeparting and all fear of danger over, the old fellow brings Pyrrhias to his earthen pots, and shows him a great deal of gold and silver blended amongst the pitch; whereupon Pyrrhias attaining to great riches treated the old man well in all respects, and sacrificed an ox to him. Hence they say proverbially that none hath sacrificed an ox to his benefactor but Pyrrhias. 

35  Why was there a custom amongst the Bottiaean maids, as they danced, to sing, "Let us go to Athens"? Solution: It is reported that the Cretans (in payment of a vow) sent the firstlings of men to Delphi; but when such as were sent found no plentiful provision there, they departed from thence in search of a plantation, and first sat down at Iapygia. From thence they went and possessed that part of Thrace which now they have, Athenians being mixed with them; for it is probable that Minos did not destroy those young men which the Athenians sent in a way of tribute, but only detained them in servitude. Some that were descended from these and were accounted Cretanswere sent with others to Delphi; so the Bottiaean daughters, in remembrance of their pedigree, sing on their feast-days, "Let us go to Athens." 

36  Why do the Eleian women in their hymns beseech Dionysos that he will come to their help with an ox's foot? The hymns run thus: "Come, O hero Dionysos, to thy holy temple placed by the sea; hasten with the Graces to thy temple with a neat's foot." Then they redouble this, "O worthy Bull"! Solution: Was it because some call DionysosBull-begot, and some Bull? Or as some say ox-foot for a great foot; as the poet saith ox-eye for a great eye, and βουλάϊος for haughty? Or is it rather, because the foot of an ox is innocent and his bearing horns on his head is pernicious, that so they desire the God may come to them mild and harmless? Or is it because many men are of opinion that this God presides over ploughing and sowing? 

37  What is the meaning of that place at Tanagra, before the city, called Achilleum? For it is reported that the city had rather enmity than kindness for Achilles, in that he took Stratonice, the mother of Poemander, by force of arms, and slew Acestor the son of Ephippus. Solution: Now Poemander the father of Ephippus (whilst the region of Tanagra was still inhabited by villagers), being besieged in Stephon (a village so called) by the Achaeansbecause he refused to aid them in the wars, left that country the same night, and fortified Poemandria. Policrithus the architect coming in, disparaging his works and making a ridicule of them, leaped over the ditch; Poemander, falling into a rage, catched up a great stone suddenly to throw at him, which had been hid there a great while, lying over some sacred nocturnal relics. This Poemander hurling rashly slung, and missing Policrithus, slew his own son Leucippus. He was then forced by law to depart out of Boeotia and become a wandering and begging pilgrim; neither was that easy for him to do, because of the incursions which the Achaeans made into the region of Tanagra. Wherefore he sent Ephippus his son to beg aid of Achilles. He by persuasion prevailed with Achilles to come, with Tlepolemus the son of Hercules, and with Peneleos the son of Hippalcmus, all of them their kindred. By these Poemander was introduced into Chalcis, and was absolved by Elephenor from the murder; he ascribed great honor to these men, and assigned groves to each of them, of which this kept the name of Achilles's Grove. 

38  Who amongst the Boeotians were the Ψολόεις, and who the Ὀλεῖαι? Solution: They say that Minos's daughters — Leucippe, Arsinoe, and Alcathoe — falling mad, had a greedy appetite for man's flesh, and accordingly cast lots for their children. Whereupon it fell to Leucippe's lot to produce her son Hippasus to be cut in pieces. The husbands of these women, that were clothed in coarse apparel by reason of sorrow and grief, were called Psoloeis, the women Ὀλεῖαι, that is ὀλοαί (destructive). And to this day the Orchomenians call their posterity so. And it is so ordered that, in the yearly feast called Agrionia, there is a flight and pursuit of them by the priest of Dionysos, with a drawn sword in his hand. It is lawful for him to slay any of them that he takes, and Zoilus a priest of our time slew one. This thing proved unlucky to them; for Zoilus, sickening upon a wound that he got, wasted away for a long time and died; whereupon the Orchomenians, falling under public accusations and condemnations, removed the priesthood from their family, and made choice of the best man in the whole multitude. 

39  Why do the Arcadians stone those that go willingly into the Lycaion, while those that go in ignorantly they carry forth to Eleutherae? Solution: Is it on the ground that they gained their liberty by being thus absolved, that the story has gained credit? And is this saying "to Eleutherae" the same as "into the region of security," or "thou shalt come to the seat of pleasure"? Or is the reason to be rendered according to that fabulous story, that of all the sons of Lycaon Eleuther and Lebadus alone were free from that conspiracy against Zeus, and fled into Boeotia, where the Lebadenses use the like civil polity to that of the Arcadians, and therefore they send them to Eleutherae that enter unwittingly into the inaccessible temple of Zeus? Or is it (as Architimus saith in his remarks on Arcadia) that some that went into the Lycaion unawares were delivered up to the Phliasians by the Arcadians, and by the Phliasians to the Megarians, and by the Megarians to the Thebans which inhabit about Eleutherae, where they are detained under rain, thunder, and other direful judgments from Heaven; and upon this account some say this place was called Eleutherae. But the report is not true that he that enters into the Lycaion casts no shadow, though it hath had a firm belief. And what if this be the reason of that report, that the air converted into clouds looks darkly on them that go in? Or that he that goes in falls down dead? — for the Pythagoreans say that the souls of the deceased do neither give a shadow nor wink. Or is it that the sun only makes a shadow, and the law bereaveth him that entereth here of the sight of the sun? Though this they speak enigmatically; for verily he that goes in is called Elaphus, a stag. Hence the Lacedemonians delivered up to the Arcadians Cantharion the Arcadian, who went over to the Eleans whilst they waged war with the Arcadians, passing with his booty through the inaccessible temple, and fled to Sparta when the war was ended; the oracle requiring them to restore the stag. 

40  Who is Eunostus, the hero of Tanagra; and what is the reason that women may not enter into his grove? Solution: Eunostus was the son of Elieus who came of Cephisus and Scias, but they say received his name from Eunosta, the nymph that brought him up. This man was honest and just, and no less temperate and austere. They say that Ochna his niece fell in love with him, who was one of the daughters of Colonus; and when he perceived that she tempted him to lie with her, manifesting his indignation he went and accused her to her brethren. But she had cried Whore first and provoked her brethren, Echimus, Leon, and Bucolus, to kill Eunostus, by her false suggestion that he would have forced her; wherefore these laid wait for the young man and slew him, upon which Elieus secured them. Now Ochna growing penitent and full of terror, as well to discharge the grief she had for her beloved as out of commiseration towards her brethren, confesses the whole truth to Elieus, and he declares it to Colonus, who condemned them. Whereupon Ochna's brethren fled, but she broke her neck from some high place, as Myrtis the Anthedonian poetess hath told us. Therefore he kept the tomb and grove of Eunostus from the access and approach of women, insomuch that upon earthquakes, droughts, and other portents that often there happened, the Tanagrians made diligent search whether any woman had not by stealth got nigh to that place. And there are some (of whom Clidamus, a man of great fame, is one) who report that Eunostus met them as he was going to the sea to wash himself because a woman had entered into his grove. Diocles also, in his Treatise concerning Shrines, relates the edict of the Tanagrians upon the things that Clidamus declared. 

41  Whence is it that in Boeotia there is a river at Eleon called Scamander? Solution: Deimachus, the son of Eleon and intimate friend of Hercules, bore his part in the siege of Troy. But the war proving long (as it seems), he took to him Glaucia the daughter of Scamander who had fallen in love with him, and got her with child: soon after, fighting against the Trojans, he was slain. Glaucia, fearing that she might be apprehended, fled to Hercules, and acquainted him with her late affection towards Deimachus, and the familiarity she had with him. Hercules, both out of commiseration to the woman, as also for joy that there was an offspring left of so good a man and his intimate acquaintance, took Glaucia on shipboard; and when she was delivered of a son, brought her into Boeotia, and committed her and her child to the care of Eleon. The son was named Scamander, and came to reign over that country. He called the river Inachus by his own name Scamander, and the next rivulet he named from his mother Glaucia; but the fountain he called Acidusa by his own wife's name, by whom he had three daughters, which they have a veneration for to this day, styling them virgins. 

42  Whence was that proverbial speech, "Let this prevail"? Solution: Dinon the Tarentine general, being a man well skilled in military affairs, when the citizens manifested their dislike of a certain opinion of his by lifting up of hands, as the crier was declaring the majority of votes, stretched forth his right hand and said, This is better. Thus Theophrastus hath told the story; and Apollodorus in his Rhytinus adds this: When the crier had said, 'These are the most suffrages;' 'Aye, but,' saith Dinon, 'these are the best,' and ratifies the suffrages of the minority. 

43  Why is the city of the Ithacans called Alalcomenae? Solution: It is affirmed by most, that it was because Anticlea in the time of her virginity was forcibly seized upon by Sisyphus, and brought forth Ulysses. But Ister the Alexandrian hath acquainted us in his memoirs, that Anticlea was married to Laertes, and being brought to a place about the Alalcomeneum in Boeotia, was delivered of Ulysses; and therefore Ulysses called the city of Ithaca by the same name, to renew the memory of the place in which he had been born. 

44  Who are the Monophagi in Aigina? Solution: Many of the Aiginetans that fought against Troy were slain in those wars, but more of them by storm in the voyaging by sea. The relations therefore receiving those few that were left, and observing the other citizens overwhelmed with sorrow and grief, thought it not convenient to make any public appearances of joy or to sacrifice to the Gods; but every one entertained privately in his own house his relations that were escaped with feasts and entertainments, they themselves giving attendance to their fathers, kinsfolks, brethren, and acquaintance, none of other families being admitted thereto. Hence in imitation of these they celebrate a sacrifice to Poseidon, which is called the Thiasi, in which they revel without any noise, each family apart by itself, for the space of sixteen days, without any servant attending them; then offering sacrifices to Aphrodite, they finish this solemn feast. Upon this account they are called Monophagi, i.e. such as feed apart by themselves. 

45  What is the reason that the statue of Labradean Zeus in Caria is made so as to hold an axe lifted up, and not a sceptre or thunderbolt. Solution: Because Hercules slaying Hippolyta, and taking away from her amongst other weapons her pole-axe, presented it to Omphale. After Omphale the kings of the Lydians carried it, as part of the sacred regalities which they took by succession, until Candaules, disdaining it, gave it to one of his favorites to carry. But afterwards Gyges revolting waged war against him; Arselis also came to the aid of Gyges from the Mylassians with a great strength, slew Candaules with his favorite, and carried away the pole-axe into Caria with other spoils; where furbishing up the statue of Zeus, he put the axe into his hand and called it the Labradean God, — for the Lydians call an axe labra. 

46  What is the reason that the Trallians call the pulse ὄϱοβος by the name ϰαθαϱτής (i.e. purifying), and use it especially in expiations and purifications. Solution: Was it because the Leleges and Minyae, in former times driving out the Trallians, possessed themselves of the city and that country, and afterwards the Trallians returned and conquered them; and as many of the Leleges as were not slain or fled, but by reason of indigency and weakness were left there, they made no account of whether they lived or died, and therefore enacted a law that any Trallian that slew one of the Minyae or Leleges should be guiltless, provided only that he paid a measure of this pulse to the relatives of the slain person? 

47  Why is it spoken by way of proverb amongst the Eleans, "Thou sufferest worse things than Sambicus"? Solution: It is said that one Sambicus an Elean, having many comrades with him, did break off many of the devoted bronze offerings placed in Olympia and disposed of them, and at length robbed the sanctuary of Artemis the Episkopos [Bishopess] in Elis, called the Aristarcheion. Presently after the committing of this sacrilege, he was taken and tormented the space of a year, being examined concerning all his accessories, and so died; hence this proverb arose from his suffering. 

48  Why is the sanctuary of Ulysses in Lacedemon built hard by the heroon of the Leucippides? Solution: One Ergiaeus, of the posterity of Diomedes, by the persuasion of Temenus stole the Palladium from Argos, Leager being conscious of and accessory to the felony, for he was one of the intimates of Temenus. Afterward Leagros, by reason of a feud betwixt him and Temenus, went over into Lacedemon and transported the Palladium thither. The kings receive him readily, and place the Palladium next to the temple of the Leucippides, and sending to Delphiconsult the oracle about its safety and preservation. The oracle answered that they must make one of them that stole it the keeper of it. So they erected there the heroon of Ulysses, especially since they supposed that hero was related to the city by the marriage of Penelope. 

49  What is the reason that it is a custom amongst the Chalcedonian women, that, if at any time they happen to meet with other women's husbands, especially magistrates, they cover one cheek? Solution: The Chalcedonianswarred against the Bithynians, being provoked thereto by every kind of injury. And Zipoetus being king of the Bithynians, they brought out all their forces, with the addition of Thracian auxiliaries, and were wasting the country with fire and sword. Zipoetus then pitching his camp against them at a place called Phalium, the Chalcedonians, fighting ill through desperateness and disorder, lost about eight thousand soldiers, but were not all cut off, Zipoetusin favor of the Byzantines yielding to a cessation of arms. Now, there being a great scarcity of men in the city of Chalcedon, most of the women were necessitated to marry their freedmen and aliens; others that chose widowhood rather than marriage to such, if they had any occasion to go before judges or magistrates, managed their own affairs, only withdrawing their veil from one side of their face. Then the married women, imitating these as their betters, for modesty's sake took up the same custom. 

50  Why do the Argives bring their sheep to the grove of Agenor to take ram? Solution: Was it because Agenortook care to have the fairest sheep, and of all kings possessed the most flocks of sheep? 

51  Why did the Argive boys on a certain feast-day call themselves Ballacrades in sport? Solution: Was it because they report that the first people that were brought by Inachus out of the countries into the plains, lived upon ἀχϱάδες, i.e. wild pears? But wild pears were first discovered by the Grecians in Peloponnesus, while that country was called Apia, whence wild pears came afterwards to be called ἄπιοι. 

52  For what reason do the men of Elis lead their mares out of their borders when they would have them leaped by their horses? Solution: Was it that of all kings Oinomaus was the greatest lover of horses, and being most fond of this creature, imprecated many and great curses upon horses that should leap mares in Elis; wherefore the people, fearing his curse, do abominate this thing? 

53  What was the reason of the custom amongst the Knossians, that those who borrowed money upon usury should snatch it and run away? Solution: Was it that, in case they should attempt to defraud the usurers, they might be liable for the violence, and thereby receive further punishment? 

54  What is the cause that in Samos they call upon Aphrodite of Dexicreon? Solution: Was this the reason, that the women of Samos, by lasciviousness and bawdry falling into great debauchery, were reformed by Dexicreon, a mountebank, using some charms towards them? Or was it because Dexicreon, being the master of a ship, and sailing to Cyprus on a trading voyage, and being about to take in his lading, was commanded by Aphrodite to lade with water and nothing else, and sail back with all possible speed? Being persuaded hereto, he took in much water and set sail immediately; still winds and a calm detaining him, he sold his water to merchants and seamen distressed with thirst, whereby he gathered up much money; from which he erected a statue to Aphrodite, and called it by his own name. If this story be true, it is manifest that the Goddess intended not only the enriching of one man, but the saving of many alive by one man. 

55  What is the reason that amongst the Samians, when they sacrifice to Hermes the munificent, they suffer a man to filch and steal garments if he will? Solution: Because, when at the command of the oracle they transplanted themselves from that island into Mycale, they lived ten years upon robbery; and after this, sailing back again into their island, they conquered their enemies. 

56  Whence is that place in the island Samos called Panaema (Πάναιμα)? Solution: Was it because the Amazons, flying before Dionysos from the coasts of Ephesus, fell upon Samos, and thereupon Dionysos rigging up his ships wafted over, and joining battle slew abundance of them about that place, which, by reason of the plenty of blood spilled there, the beholders by way of admiration called Panaema? Some say that this slaughter was about Phloeum, and show their bones there; but others say also that Phloeum was rent off from Samos by the dreadful and hideous cry that was uttered at their death. 

57  Upon what account was the Andron in Samos called Pedetes? Solution: The Geomori got the government into their hands, after Demoteles was slain, and after the dissolution of his monarchial constitution. At this time the Megarians waged war with the Perinthians, being a Samian colony, and brought fetters with them (as they say) to put on the captives. When the Geomori were acquainted with these proceedings, they immediately sent aid, sending forth nine commanders and manning thirty ships, two of which, launching forth and lying before the haven, were destroyed with lightning. The commanders, proceeding on their voyage in the rest, subdued the Megarians, and took six hundred of them alive. They were so elevated with this victory, that they meditated the subversion of this Geomoran oligarchy; but the occasion was given by the states themselves writing to them that they should bring the Megarian captives bound in their own fetters. When they received these letters, they showed them privately to the Megarians, persuading them to concur with them in a conspiracy to procure the people's liberty. A consult was held in common between them about this matter, and they decided that the best way was to beat off the rings from the fetters, and put them on the legs of the Megarians, and fasten them with thongs to their girdles, that they might not fall off nor being loose hinder them in their going. Accordingly they accoutred the men in this manner, and giving each of them a scimitar, they soon sailed back to Samos and landed, and accordingly led the Megarians through the market-place to the council-house, where all the Geomori were sitting together. Then, the sign being given, the Megarians fell on and slew those men. Whereupon, the city being set at liberty, they admitted the Megarians (as many as would) into the number of citizens, and erecting a magnificent edifice, hung up the fetters (πέδαι) in it. From this the house was named Πεδήτης. 

58  What is the reason that the chief priest of Hercules in Antimachia at Cos, when he manageth the sacrifice, is clothed in women's apparel, and wears a mitre upon his head? Solution: Hercules, setting sail from Troy with six ships, was attacked by a storm, and lost all his ships but one, with which only he was forced by the wind upon the coast of Cos, and fell upon a place called Laceter, saving nothing besides his men and armor. There happening to meet with a flock of sheep, he requested one ram of the shepherd (the man was called Antagoras), who, being a robust-bodied young man, challenged Hercules to fight with him; and if he were worsted, Hercules should carry away the ram. As soon as this fellow engaged with Hercules, the Meropes came in to the aid of Antagoras; and the Grecians coming in to assist Hercules, a great fight ensued. Whereat (they say) Hercules, overpowered by the multitude, betook himself for refuge to a Thracian woman, and was concealed by disguising himself in woman's apparel. But when afterwards, conquering the Meropes and passing under purification, he married the daughter of Alciopus, he put on a flowery robe. Hence the priests offer sacrifices in the place where the battle was fought, and the bridegrooms are clothed in women's apparel when they receive their brides. 

59  Whence was the race of Hamaxocylists in Megara? Solution: In that licentious democracy under which the demanding back of interest money paid to usurers was introduced and sacrilege was permitted, the Peloponnesians went on a pilgrimage to Delphi through the borders of Megara, and lodged in Aegira by the lake-side with their wives and children, in their caravans, as they best could. There a resolute drunken company of the Megarians in a riotous and cruel manner overturned their wagons, and overwhelmed them in the lake; so that many of the pilgrims were drowned. The Megarians indeed, by reason of the disorder of the government, neglected the punishment of this wickedness; but the Amphictyons, taking into consideration the sanctity of this pilgrimage, punished the actors of this villany, some with banishment, some with death. Hence the posterity of these villains were called Ἁμαξοϰυλισταί, i.e. overturners of wagons.

1  Most people are apt to take the histories of former times for mere forgeries and fables, because of many passages in those relations that seem to be very extravagant. But yet, according to my observation, we have had as strange occurrences of a later date in the Roman times as any we have received from antiquity; for proof whereof, I have here matched several stories of the ancients with modern instances, and cited my authorities. 
Datis, an eminent Persian commander, drew out three hundred thousand men to Marathon, a plain of Attica, where he encamped and declared war against the inhabitants. The Athenians made no reckoning at all of so barbarous a rabble, but sent out nine thousand men against him, under the command of Cynaegirus, Polyzelus, Callimachus, and Miltiades. Upon the joining of battle, Polyzelus was struck blind at the sight of a wonderful apparition; Callimachus's body was struck through with a great many lances, continuing in an upright posture even when he was dead; Cynaegirus had both his hands cut off upon laying hold of a Persian ship that was endeavoring to get away. King Asdrubal, having possessed himself of Sicily, proclaimed war against the Romans. Metellus, who was appointed by the Senate to command in chief, overcame him. L. Glauco, a patrician, laid hold of the vessel that Asdrubal was in, and lost both his hands upon it. — Aristides Milesius gives this account in his First Book of the Affairs of Sicily, and Dionysius Siculus had it from him. 

2  Xerxes came with an army of five millions of men to Artemisium, and declared war against the country. The Athenians, in a very great surprise, sent Agesilaus, the brother of Themistocles, to discover the motions of the enemy, notwithstanding a dream of his father Neocles, that his son had lost both his hands. This Agesilaus put himself into a Persian habit, and entered the barbarians' camp; where, taking Mardonius (an officer of the king's guards) for Xerxes himself, he killed him. Whereupon he was immediately seized, bound, and carried to Xerxes, who was just then about to sacrifice an ox to the Sun. The fire was kindled upon the altar, and Agesilaus put his right hand into it, without so much as shrinking at the pain. He was ordered upon this to be untied; and told the king that the Athenians were all of the same resolution, and that, if he pleased, he should see him burn his left hand too. This gave Xerxes an apprehension of him, so that he caused him to be still kept in custody. — This I find in Agatharchides the Samian, in the Second Book of his Persian History. Porsena, a king of Tyrrhenia, encamped himself beyond the Tiber, and made war upon the Romans, cutting off the supplies, till they were brought to great want of provisions. The Senate were at their wits' end what to do, till Mucius, a nobleman, got leave of the consuls to take four hundred of his own quality to advise with upon the matter. Mucius, upon this, put himself into the habit of a private man, and crossed the river; where finding one of the king's officers giving orders for the distribution of necessaries to the soldiers, and taking him for the king himself, he slew him. He was taken immediately and carried to the king, where he put his right hand into a fire that was in the room, and with a smile in the middle of his torments, — Barbarian, says he, I can set myself at liberty without asking you leave; and be it known to you, that I have left four hundred men in the camp as daring as myself, that have sworn your death. This struck Porsena with such a terror, that he made peace with the Romans upon it. — Aristides Milesius is my author for this, in the Third Book of his History. 

3  There happened a dispute betwixt the Argives and Lacedemonians about a claim to the possession of Thyreatis. The Amphictyons gave their opinion for a trial of it by battle, so many and so many of a side, and the possession to go to the victor. The Lacedemonians made choice of Othryades for their captain, and the Argives of Thersander. The battle was fought, and the only two survivors that appeared were Agenor and Chromius, both Argives, who carried their city the news of the victory. In this interim, Othryades, who was not as yet quite dead, made a shift to raise himself by the help of broken lances, gathered the shields of the dead together, and erected a trophy with this inscription upon it in his own blood. "To Zeus the Guardian of Trophies." The controversy still depended, till the Amphictyons, upon an ocular examination of the matter, gave it for the Lacedemonians. — This is according to Chrysermus, in his Third Book of the Peloponnesian History. In a war that the Romans had with the Samnites, they made Posthumius Albinus their general. He was surprised in the difficult pass called the Caudine Forks, where he was hemmed in and lost three legions, he himself likewise falling upon the place grievously wounded. In the dead of the night, finding himself near his end, he gathered together the targets of his dead enemies, and raised a trophy with them, which he inscribed with his hand dipped in blood, "Erected by the Romans to Zeus, Guardian of the Trophies, for a victory over the Samnites." But Fabius Gurges, that was despatched away with troops under his command, so soon as he came to the place and saw the trophy, took up an auspicious omen upon it, fought the enemy, and overcame them, took their king prisoner, and sent him to Rome. — This is in the Third Book of Aristides Milesius's Italian History. 

4  Upon the Persians falling into Greece with a body of five millions of men, the Spartans sent out Leonidas with a party of three hundred soldiers to secure the Pass of Thermopylae. As they were at dinner, the barbarians fell in upon them; upon which, Leonidas bade them eat as if they were to sup in another world. Leonidas charged at the head of his men into the body of the barbarians; and after many wounds received, got up to Xerxes himself, and took his crown from his head. He lost his life in the attempt, and Xerxes causing him to be cut up when he was dead, found his heart all hairy. — Aristides, in the First Book of his Persian History. In the Punic war the Romans sent out three hundred men under the command of Fabius Maximus, where they were all lost; and he himself, after he had received a mortal wound, assaulting Hannibal, took his diadem from his head, and died in the action. According to Aristides Milesius. 

5  There was a terrible earthquake, with a wonderful eruption of water, at Celaenae, a city of Phrygia, that swallowed up a great many houses, people and all. Midas upon this consults the oracle, which gave him for answer, that if he would cast into that gulf the most precious thing that he had in the world, the earth should close again. Whereupon he threw in a mass of gold and silver; but never the better. This put it in the head of Anchurus, the son of Midas, to consider, that the most precious thing in Nature is the life and soul of a man; so that he went presently and embraced his father and his wife Timothea, mounted his horse, and leaped into the abyss. The earth closed upon it, and Midas raised a golden altar in the place, laid his hand upon it, and dedicated it TO JUPITER IDAEUS. This altar becomes stone at that time of the year when it was usual to have these eruptions; and after that season was over, it is turned to gold again. — My author is Callisthenes, in his Second Book of Transformations. The River Tiber, in its course over the Forum, opened a huge cavity in the ground, so that a great many houses were buried in it. This was looked upon as a judgment upon the place, from Zeus Tarsius; who, as the oracle told them, was not to be appeased without throwing into it what they held most valuable. So they threw a quantity of gold and silver into it. But Curtius, one of the bravest young men they had, gave a better guess at the mind of the oracle; and reflecting upon it, that the life of a man was much more excellent than treasure, took his horse and plunged himself into the gulf, and so redeemed his country. — Aristides, in the Fortieth Book of his Italian History. 

6  As several great captains were making merry with Polynices, an eagle passing by made a stoop, and carried up into the air the lance of Amphiaraus, who was one of the company; and then falling down, it stuck in the ground, and was turned into a laurel. The next day, when the armies were in action, the earth opened and swallowed up Amphiaraus with his chariot, in that very place where at present the city Harma stands, so called from that chariot. — This is in Trisimachus's Third Book of the Foundations of Cities. When the Romans made war upon Pyrrhus, the king of the Epirots, the oracle promised Aemilius Paulus the victory in case he should erect an altar in that place where he should see an eminent man with his chariot swallowed up into the ground. Some three days after, Valerius Conatus, a man skilled in divining, was commanded in a dream to take the pontifical habit upon him. He did so, and led his men into the battle, where, after a prodigious slaughter of the enemy, the earth opened and swallowed him up. Aemilius built an altar here, obtained a great victory, and sent a hundred and sixty castle-bearing elephants to Rome. This altar delivers oracles about that season of the year in which Pyrrhus was overcome. — Critolaus has this in his Third Book of the History of the Epirots. 

7  Pyraechmes, king of the Euboeans, made war upon the Boeotians. Hercules, when he was yet a youth, overcame this king, had him drawn to pieces with horses, and threw away the carcass unburied. The place where this was done is called Pyraechmes's horses. It lies upon the River Heraclius, and there is heard a neighing whensoever any horse drinks of that river. — This is in the Third Book of Rivers. Tullus Hostilius, a king of the Romans, waged war against the Albans, whose king's name was Metius Fufetius; and he many times kept off from fighting. He had the ill luck to be once worsted, upon which the Albans gave themselves up to drinking and making good cheer, till Tullus fell in upon them when they were in their cups, and tore their king to pieces betwixt two horses. — Alexarchus, in the Fourth Book of his Italian History. 

8  Philip had a design to sack Olynthus and Methone, and in trying to pass the River Sandanus, was shot in the eye with an arrow by one Aster, an Olynthian, with these words: It is Aster that sends Philip this mortal shaft. Philip upon this swam back again to his own people, and with the loss of an eye saved his life. — Callisthenes, in his Third Book of the Macedonics. Porsena made war upon the Romans, and pitched his camp on the further side of the Tiber, where he intercepted all relief, till they were pinched with famine. Horatius Cocles, being chosen general, took possession of the wooden bridge, where he opposed himself to the enemy that were pressing to come over; but finding himself overpowered with numbers, he commanded his people to cut down the bridge behind him, by which means he hindered them from coming over. But in the mean time receiving a wound in his eye, he threw himself into the river, and swam over to his own party. — So Theotimus in the Second Book of his Italian History. 

9  Eratosthenes in Erigone tells a story of Icarius, that entertained Dionysos under his roof; and it runs thus. Saturn, having taken up his lodging with an husbandman who had a very beautiful daughter named Entoria, took her to his bed, and had several sons by her, Janus, Hymnus, Faustus, and Felix. He taught his host Icarius the use of wine and the way of dressing his vines, with a charge that he should likewise instruct his neighbors in the mystery. His acquaintance, hereupon finding that this strange drink had cast them into a deeper sleep than ordinary, took a fancy that they were poisoned, and stoned Icarius in revenge; whereupon his grandchildren hanged themselves for grief. Upon a time, when the plague was very hot in Rome, the Pythian oracle being consulted gave this answer, that upon the appeasing the wrath of Saturn, and the Manes of those that were unjustly killed, the pestilence would cease. Lutatius Catulus, a man of the first quality, caused a temple upon this occasion to be erected near the Tarpeian Mount, which he dedicated to Saturn, placing an altar in it with four faces; possibly with a respect to Saturn's four children, or to the four seasons of the year. He also instituted the month of January. But Saturn translated them all to heaven among the stars, some of which are called Protrygeteres, as forerunners of the vintage; only Janus rises first, and has his place at the feet of the Virgin. — Critolaus, in his Fourth Book of Celestial Appearances. 

10  In the time of the devastation of Greece by the Persians, Pausanias, the Lacedemonian commander, took a bribe of 500 talents of Xerxes, to betray Sparta. The treason being discovered, his father Agesilaus pressed him so hard, that he was fain to take sanctuary in the temple of Athena, called Chalcioecus, where he caused the doors to be bricked up, and his son to be immured till he died of hunger; and his mother after this would not suffer the body to be buried. — Chrysermus, in his Second Book of Histories. The Romans, being in war with the Latins, made choice of P. Decius for their general. Now there was a certain patrician, a young man and poor (CassiusBrutus by name), who proposed for a certain reward to open the gates to the enemy; but being detected, he fled to the temple of Athena Auxiliaria. But his father Cassius, an ensign-bearer, shut him up there till he died of famine, and his dead body was not allowed burial. — Clitonymus, in his Italian History. 

11  Darius, the Persian, had a battle with Alexander near the River Granicus, where he lost seven satraps, and five hundred and two chariots armed with scythes. And yet he would have tried the fortune of another battle the day following; but his son Ariobarzanes, in favor of Alexander, undertook to betray his father into his hands. The father was so transported with passion at the indignity of the thing, that he cut off his son's head for it. — Aretades Cnidius, in the Third of his Macedonian History. Brutus, that was created consul by the unanimous vote of the citizens, forced away Tarquinius Superbus into banishment for his abominable tyranny. He fled to the Tuscans, and by their assistance made war upon the Romans. The sons were treating to betray the father; the business was discovered, and they lost their heads for it. — Aristides Milesius, in his Italian History. 

12  Epaminondas, a Theban general, managed a war against the Spartans. He went from the army to Thebes, to be present there at a public election of magistrates; but first enjoined his son Stesimbrotus that he should not fight the enemy in his absence upon any terms. The Spartans being informed that Epaminondas was not with the army, reproached the young man with want of courage, and so far provoked him, that without any regard to his father's command he gave the Spartans battle, and overcame them. His father was so incensed against him for this action, that though he crowned him for the victory, he cut off his head for his disobedience. — Ctesiphon, in his Third Book of the Boeotian History. In a war that the Romans had against the Samnites, they gave the command to Manlius, surnamed Imperiosus. He had occasion to go to Rome, to be present there at the choice of consuls, and gave his son in charge not to engage the enemy in the mean time. The Samnites, understanding this, irritated the young man with opprobrious words, as if he declined fighting out of cowardice, and in the end provoked him to a battle; upon which action he carried the day; but his father caused his head to be struck off for breaking his order. — This is in Aristides Milesius. 

13  Hercules made love to Iole, but she gave him the repulse, and so he went and assaulted Oichalia. Iole threw herself headlong down from the wall, but the whiffling of the wind under her garments broke the fall, and she had no hurt. — This story is in Nicias Maleotes. Valerius Torquatus was the Romans' general in the war they had with the Tuscans; who, upon the sight of Clusia, the daughter of the Tuscan king, fell in love with her, and when he found he could do no good on't, laid siege to the city. Clusia, upon this, threw herself headlong from a tower; but Aphroditewas so careful of her, that by the playing of the wind in the folds of her garments, she was wafted safe to the ground. Torquatus, however, offered her violence, and for so doing he was banished by a public decree into the isle of Corsica. — Theophilus, in the Third Book of his Italian History. 

14  While the Carthaginians were treating an alliance with the Sicilians against the Romans, the Roman general Metellus was observed to omit sacrificing only to Vesta, who revenged herself upon him by sending a cross wind to the navy. But Caius Julius, a soothsayer, being consulted in the matter, gave answer, that this obstacle would be removed upon the general's sacrificing his daughter: so that he was forced to produce his daughter Metella for a sacrifice. But Vesta had compassion for her, and so sent her away to Lamusium, substituting a heifer in her stead, and made a priestess of her to the dragon that is worshipped in that place. — So Pythocles, in the Third Book of his Italian History. Something like this happened to Iphigenia in Aulis, a city of Boeotia. — See Meryllus, in the First Book of his Boeotic History. 

15  Brennus, a king of the Gauls, after the wasting of Asia, came to Ephesus, and there fell in love with a country girl, who promised him that for such a certain reward in bracelets and other curiosities of value he should have the use of her body, and that she would further undertake to deliver up Ephesus into his hands. Brennus ordered his soldiers to throw all the gold they had into the lap of this avaricious wretch, which they did, till she perished under the weight of it. — Clitophon in the First Book of his Gallican History. Tarpeia, a virgin that was well born, and had the keeping of the Capitol in the war betwixt the Sabines and the Romans, passed a promise unto Tatius, that she would open him a passage into the Tarpeian Mount, provided that he would give her all the jewels that the Sabineswore, for a reward. The Sabines hearing this crushed her to death — Aristides's Milesius, in his Italic History. 

16  After a long war betwixt two cities, Tegea and Phenea, they came to an agreement to refer the decision of the controversy, by combat, to three twin-brothers on each side, the sons of Reximachus for Tegea, and the sons of Damostratus for Phenea. Upon the encounter, two of the sons of Reximachus were slain; but Critolaus, the third, had a fetch beyond his two brothers; for, under a pretence of running away, he divided his enemies that pursued him, and so taking them one by one, he killed them all. The Tegeans upon his return went all overjoyed to gratulate the victor. Only his sister Demodice was not so well pleased; for she was betrothed, it seems, to Demodicus, one of the brothers, that was now slain. Which Critolaus took so ill that he killed his sister, and being afterwards indicted for murder at the instigation of his mother, he was acquitted. — Demaratus, in his Second Book of the ArcadianHistory. In the heat of the war betwixt the Romans and Albans, they came to this agreement, that the cause should be determined by a trial at arms betwixt three and three twins on each side, the Curiatii for the Albans, and the Horatii for the Romans. Upon the encounter, the Curiatii killed two of the others; the third survivor, under the color of flying, destroyed his enemies one by one, as they followed him. All his friends came to joy him of his victory, save only his sister Horatia; for one of the Curiatii, that her brother killed, was her sweetheart. Horatius for this killed his sister. — Aristides Milesius, in his Italian Commentaries. 

17  The temple of Athena in Ilium happened to be on fire. Ilus ran presently to save the Palladium (an image dropped from heaven); but upon the taking of it up, he was struck blind, it being a thing unlawful for any man to look upon. But upon appeasing the Deity, he was afterwards restored to his sight. — Dercyllus, in his First Book of Foundations. Metellus, an eminent man, as he was walking out of the city, was interrupted by ravens, that laid hold of him and kept a flapping of him with their wings. This omen surprised him, and back he went into the city again, where he found the temple of Vesta all in a flame. He went and took away the Palladium, and fell blind upon't. But some time after, the Goddess being pacified gave him the use of his eyes again. — Aristides Milesius, in his Italian History. 

18  Upon a time when the Thracians were engaged in a war against the Athenians, the oracle promised them victory if they would but save the life of Codrus. Codrus upon this puts himself in a coarse disguise, and away he goes into the enemies' camp with a scythe in his hand, where he killed one, and another killed him, so that the Athenians got the better on't. — Socrates, in his Second Book of his Thracian History. Publius Decius, a Roman, at a time when they were in war with the Albans, had a dream that his death would bring a great advantage to the Romans; upon which consideration he charged into the middle of his enemies, where he killed many, and was slain himself: his son Decius did the like in the Gallic war, for the conservation of the Roman State. — Aristides Milesiusis my author. 

19  There was one Cyanippus a Syracusan, that sacrificed to all the Gods but Dionysos; who took the contempt so heinously that he made him drunk, in which fit he got his daughter Cyane into a corner and lay with her. She in the mean time slipped his ring off his finger, and gave it to her nurse to keep, as a circumstance that some time or other might come to be brought in evidence. There brake out a pestilence, and the Pythian oracle advised the sacrificing of an incestuous person to the Gods that are the averters of such calamities, as the only remedy. Cyane, that understood the meaning of the oracle better than other people, took her father by the hair of the head and dragged him forth, first stabbing him and then herself. — Dositheus, in the Third Book of his Sicilian History. In the time of celebrating the Bacchanalia at Rome, Aruntius, that had never drunk any wine since he was born, did not show such reverence for the power of the God as he ought to have done, so that Dionysos intoxicated him; and in that freak, Aruntius ravished his daughter Medullina. She came to know the ravisher by his ring, and an exploit came into her head, above what from her age could have been expected. She made her father drunk and set a garland upon his head, carrying him to the altar of Thunder, where with tears she killed him for robbing her so treacherously of her virginity. — Aristides, in the Third Book of his Italian History. 

20  Erechtheus was told in a war he had with Eumolpus, that he should have the better of his enemy if he would but sacrifice his daughter. He advised upon the matter with his wife Praxithea, and delivered up his daughter after the manner of a common sacrifice. — Euripides, in his Erechtheus. Marius, finding himself hard put to it in the Cimbrian war, had it revealed to him in a dream, that he should overcome his enemies if he would but sacrifice his daughter Calpurnia. He did it, preferring the common safety before any private bond of Nature, and he got the victory. There are two altars in Germany, where about that time of the year may be heard the sound of trumpets. — Dorotheus, in the Fourth Book of his Italian History. 

21  There was one Cyanippus, a Thessalian, who was a great lover of the chase and was often abroad a hunting. This same Cyanippus was newly married, and his staying out so long and so often in the woods gave his wife a jealousy of an intrigue there with some other woman; insomuch that she followed him one time, and got into a thicket to watch him. The rustling of the boughs in the place where she lay brought the dogs thither in expectation of some game, where they tore this tender-hearted woman to pieces, as if she had been a brute beast. Cyanippuswas so surprised with so dismal and unthought-of a spectacle, that he killed himself. — Parthenias the Poet. Sybaris is a city of Italy, where there was one Aemilius, a very handsome young man, and a lover of hunting. His wife (whom he had lately married) took up a suspicion that, under color of the chase, he carried on an assignation with some other woman. She traced him to the wood, and upon the noise of the boughs in her passage, the dogsran presently to her and tore her to pieces; and her husband stabbed himself immediately upon this miserable accident. — Clitonymus, in the Second Book of his Sybaritics. 

22  One Smyrna (to whom Aphrodite owed a shame, it seems) fell passionately in love with her father Cinyras, and made the nurse her confidant. She goes craftily to work with her master, and tells him of a maid there in the neighborhood that loved him above all things in the world, but she could not in modesty appear publicly to him. So the father lay ignorantly with his own daughter. But some time after, having a great mind to see his mistress, he called for a light, and when he saw who it was, he pursued the incestuous wretch with his drawn sword; but by the providence of Aphrodite, she was rescued from that danger, and turned into a myrrh-tree. — Theodorus, in his Transformations. One Valeria Tusculanaria (for whom Aphrodite had no kindness) fell downright in love with her father Valerius. She told the nurse the secret, who ordered it so that she brought the father and the daughter together, telling him, that a maid there hard by was fallen desperately in love with him, but that she durst not lie with him for fear of being known. The father was got into his cups, and as he was in bed with his daughter, called for a candle. The nurse waked Valeria, and away she goes wandering up and down the country with her great belly. She had at last a fall from a precipice, but escaped without so much as any miscarriage; for she was delivered at her time, and the child's name was Sylvanus (or goat-footed Pan). Valerius, in the anxiety of his mind, threw himself from the same precipice. — Aristides Milesius, in the Third Book of his Italian History. 

23  Diomedes, after the destruction of Troy, was cast by stress of weather upon the coast of Libya, where Lycusthe son of Mars was king, whose custom it was to sacrifice all strangers to his father; but his daughter Callirrhoefalling in love with Diomedes, betrayed her father and set Diomedes at liberty; who presently went his way without any regard to his benefactress, and Callirrhoe hanged herself upon it. — Juba, Book the Third of his Libyan History. Calpurnius Crassus, a famous man bearing arms with Regulus, was sent to the Massyllians to attack the castle of Garaetius, being a very strong place. He was taken in the enterprise, and designed for a sacrifice to Saturn; but Bisaltia, the king's daughter, out of a passionate kindness to Calpurnius, betrayed her father. Calpurnius left her, and after his departure Bisaltia cut her own throat. — Hesianax's Third Book of African History. 

24  When Priam found that Troy was given for lost, he sent his young son Polydore into Thrace with a vast sum of gold, and put all into the hands of Polymestor his kinsman. So soon as Troy was taken, Polymestor killed the child, and took the gold to himself. Hecuba, being driven upon that quarter, overreached Polymestor by craft, under pretence of giving him a great treasure, at which time she, with the assistance of her fellow-prisoners, tore out his eyes with her nails. — Euripides the Tragedian. When Hannibal was ravaging the country of Campania, Lucius Thymbris deposited his son Rustius, with a vast sum of money, in the hands of Valerius Gestius his kinsman; who upon intelligence that the enemy carried all before him, out of pure avarice and without any regard to humanity or justice, killed the child. It so fell out that Thymbris, as he was walking about the fields, found the dead body of his son; whereupon he called his kinsman under pretence of a treasure that he would show him. He took his opportunity, put out his eyes, and crucified him. — Aristides's Third Book of his Italic History. 

25  Aeacus had two sons by Psamathe, Phocus and Telamon, the former better beloved than the other. Telamon one day took out his brother a hunting; and a boar presenting himself, he threw his lance in pretence at the boar, but in truth at his brother, whom he hated, and so killed him; for which his father banished him. — Dorotheus's First Book of Transformations. Caius Maximus had two sons, Rhesus the one, by Ameria , . . . and the other Similius. The brothers were a hunting together, and Rhesus having killed the other, put it off — when he came home — that it was by chance, and far from any design of doing it. But his father, when he came in time to know the truth of it, banished the son. — Aristocles, in the Third Book of his Italian History. 

26  Mars is said to have begotten Meleager upon Althaea. — Euripides, in his Meleager. Septimius Marcellustook to wife one Sylvia, and a great lover of hunting he was. Mars put himself in the habit of a shepherd, whored the new wife and got her with child; which being done, he told her who he was, and gave her a spear, telling her that the fate of the child she went withal was wrapped up in the fate of that spear. . . . Septimius slew Tuscinus; but Mamercus, in his sacriticing to the Gods for a fruitful season, omitted only Demeter, who in revenge sent a wild boar into his grounds. Whereupon getting a knot of huntsmen together, he killed him, and delivered the head and skin to his sweetheart; but Scymbrates and Muthias, the maid's uncles, took them away from her. Mamercus in a rage killed them upon it, and the mother burned the spear. — Menyllus, in the Third Book of his Italian History. 

27  When Telamon, the son of Aeacus and Endeis, came to Euboea, he debauched Periboea the daughter of Alcathous, and fled away by night. The father understanding this, and suspecting the villany to be done by some of the citizens, he delivered his daughter to one of the guards to be thrown into the sea. But the soldier, in compassion to the woman, rather sold her, and she was carried away by sea to the island of Salamis, where Telamon bought her, and had by her Ajax. — Aretades Cnidius, in his Second Book of Islands. Lucius Troscius had by Patris a daughter called Florentia, who, being corrupted by Calpurnius a Roman, was delivered by her father to a soldier, with a charge to throw her in the sea and drown her. The man had compassion of her, and rather sold her. And when good fortune brought the ship to Italy, Calpurnius bought her, and had Contruscus by her. . . . 

28  Aeolus, a great king of Etruria, had by Amphithea six daughters, and as many sons. Macareus, the youngest of them, had the carnal knowledge of one of his sisters, who was delivered of a boy. Her father sent her a sword to kill the child with; but that was so impious, that she chose rather to kill herself. And Macareus laid violent hands upon himself too. — Sostratus, in his Second Book of Tuscan History. Papirius Tolucer married Julia Pulchra, by whom he had six sons and six daughters. Papirius Romanus, the eldest of the six, got Canulia his sister with child. When the father came to the knowledge of it, he sent his daughter a sword, with which she killed herself; and Romanus did the same. — Chrysippus, in his First Book of Italian History. 

29  Aristonymus, an Ephesian and the son of Demostratus, was a woman-hater; but he had to do with an ass, which brought him forth in the ordinary course of time a most beautiful daughter, which he called Onoscelis. — Aristotle's Second Book of Paradoxes. Fulvius Stellus had an aversion to women too; but entertained himself to his satisfaction with a mare, by which he had a very handsome daughter, that he called Hippona; and this is the goddess that has the care of the breed of horses. — According to Agesilaus, in the Third Book of his ItalianHistory. 

30  The Sardians, being engaged in war with the Smyrnaeans, besieged Smyrna, and sent them word by their ambassadors, that they would never raise the siege till the Smyrnaeans should deliver up their wives to their embraces. The men of Smyrna would have been hard put to it upon this pinching necessity, if it had not been for the advice of a pretty wench that was a maid-servant to Phylarchus. Her counsel to her master was this; that instead of sending free women, they should rather dress up the servants and send them. The Smyrnaeans followed their advice; and when the Sardians had wearied themselves with their mistresses, the Smyrnaeans easily overcame them. From whence there is a festival day observed under the name of Eleutheria, which is celebrated among the Smyrnaeans with great solemnity; the servants being dressed up with all the ornaments of the free women. — Dositheus, in the Third Book of his Lydian History. Atepomarus, a king of the Gauls, being in war with the Romans, made a public declaration, that he would never agree to a peace till the Romans should prostitute their wives to them. The Romans advised with the maid-servants, and sent them in the place of the free women; the barbarians plied the work so hard, that they were soon tired and fell asleep. Retana (who was the authoress of the counsel) climbed a fig-tree, and so got on the wall; and finding how it was, gave notice of it to the consuls. The Romans upon this made a sally and routed the enemy; in memory whereof was instituted the Servants' Holiday, and this was the rise of it. — Aristides Milesius, in the First Book of his Italian History. 

31  In the war betwixt the Athenians and Eumolpus, provisions falling short, the commissary Pyrandrus, upon a point of prudence and good husbandry, made some small abatement in the soldiers' proportions. The citizens suspected treachery in the case, and stoned him to death. — Callisthenes, Third Book of his History of Thrace. The Romans being in war with the Gauls, and provisions for the belly being very scarce, Cinna contracted the soldiers' allowance to a less proportion than they had formerly. The citizens interpreted this abatement to an ambitious design he had upon the government, and so stoned him for it. — Aristides, Book Third of his ItalianHistory. 

32  In the time of the Peloponnesian war, Pisistratus an Orchomenian had a spite at the nobility, and to make himself popular, favored the common people. The Senate conspired against him, and treacherously killed him, cutting him into small gobbets which they carried away with them in their bosoms, and paring off the surface of the ground that no signs of the murder might appear. The common people, however, upon a jealousy of the matter, went tumultuously to the senate house; but the king's younger son Telesimachus that was dipped in the conspiracy, diverted them with a sham story, telling them that he himself had seen his father in a form more than human, walking as lively as was possible up the Pisaean mountain. And so he imposed upon the people. — Theophilus's Second Book of Peloponnesian Histories. The Senate of Rome, being hard put to it for the maintaining of a war with so many of their neighbors, thought it good husbandry to shorten the people's allowance of corn, which Romulus the king took very ill; and not only did he restore it to the people, but several great men were punished for it. Upon this he was murdered in the Senate by a conspiracy of the nobles, who cut him all to pieces, and carried them severally away in the lappets of their garments. The Romans came to the senate house in a hurry, and brought fire with them to set all in a flame; but Julius Proculus, one that was in the plot, told them that he saw Romulusupon a mountain, of a size larger than any man, and that he was translated into the number of the Gods. The Romans believed him, and quietly withdrew. — Aristobulus, in the Third Book of his History of Italy. 

33  Pelops the son of Tantalus and Euryanassa, had two children, Atreus and Thyestes, by his wife Hippodamia; and by the Nymph Danais he had Chrysippus, whom he loved better than his lawful children. But Laius the Theban in the heat of his lust forcibly abused his body; and being taken by Atreus and Thyestes, obtained his pardon from Pelops, in regard that love had provoked him to it. Hippodamia's advice to Atreus and Thyestes was, that they should kill Chrysippus, as one that would interpose between them and the crown. Upon their refusal to do so base a thing, she herself put her own hands to the work, and in the dead of the night took Laius's sword when he was asleep, wounded Chrysippus with it, and left the weapon in his body. This circumstance of Laius's sword brought him into suspicion of the murder, till he was cleared by Chrysippus himself, who, being as yet but half dead, gave his testimony to the truth. Pelops buried his son, and then banished his wife. — Dositheus, in his Pelopidae. Ebius Toliex had two sons by his wife Nuceria, and a third called Firmus by an enfranchised woman, who was very handsome and better beloved by the father than those that were legitimate. Nuceria that hated this by-blow, advised her sons to despatch Firmus; but upon their refusal, she did it herself; and in the dead of the night got the sword of him that guarded the body of Firmus, gave him a mortal wound, and left the weapon sticking in his body. The boy cleared his keeper by a particular account of the matter of fact; the father buried his son, and sent away his wife into banishment. — Dositheus, Book Third of his Italian History. 

34  Theseus, the true son of Poseidon, had Hippolytus by the Amazon Hippolyta, and afterward married Phaedra the daughter of Minos, who fell deep in love with Hippolytus, and made use of the nurse's mediation to help forward the incest. But Hippolytus upon this left Athens and went away to Troezen, where he diverted himself with hunting. Now this lascivious woman, finding her design disappointed, forged several scandalous letters to the prejudice of the chaste young man, and ended her days with a halter. Theseus gave credit to the slander, and Poseidon having promised him a grant of any three things he would ask, he made it his request that he would destroy Hippolytus. So Poseidon sent a bull to the coast where Hippolytus was driving his chariot, which put his horses into such a fright, that they ran away with them, and overturning the chariot killed the master. ComminiusSuper, a Laurentine, had a son by the nymph Egeria, whom he called Comminius; after which he married one Gidica, who fell passionately in love with her son-in-law. And receiving a repulse, she framed slanderous letters against him, which she left behind her, and so hanged herself. Comminius, reflecting upon the crime and believing the calumny, applied himself to Poseidon, who with a terrible bull frighted the horses so, while the youth was in the chariot, that they overturned all, and killed him with the fall. — Dositheus, Book Third of Italian Histories. 

35  In the time of a great plague in Lacedemon, they were told by the oracle, that the pestilence would cease upon the sacrificing of a noble virgin every year. It fell one time by lot to Helena, who was brought out and dressed up ready for the sacrifice. An eagle at that time flying by took away the sword, and carrying it into a herd of cattlelaid it down upon a heifer; whereupon they spared the virgin. — Aristodemus, in his Third Collection of Fables. There was a dreadful plague in Falerii, which the oracle said would be removed upon the sacrificing of a virgin to Hera every year. While this superstition was in course, it fell to Valeria Luperca's lot to be the sacrifice. An eagleflew away with the drawn sword, but laid a stick upon the fuel prepared for the fire, with a little mallet fixed to it. The sword he threw upon a heifer feeding near the temple. The virgin perceiving this sacrificed the heifer; and taking up the mallet, went about from house to house, and with a gentle knock called to those that were sick, bidding them be of good health. And this was the rise of the ceremony which continues to this day. — Aristides, in his Nineteenth Book of Italian Histories. 

36  Philonome, the daughter of Nyctimus and Arcadia, went many times to the chase with Artemis. Mars lay with her in the shape of a shepherd, and fetched up her belly. She was delivered in time of twins, which for fear of her father she threw into the river Erymanthus. By a strange fatality of providence they were driven safe into a hollow oak, which happening to be the kennel of a wolf, this wolf threw her whelps into the river, and suckled the children. Tyliphus a shepherd, that had seen this with his own eyes, took these children and brought them up as his own, calling one of them Lycastus, and the other Parrasius, which reigned successively in Arcadia. — This is reported by Zopyrus Byzantius, in the Third Book of his Histories. Amulius dealing very tyrannically with his brother Numitor, killed his son Aenitus as they were a hunting, and made his daughter Sylvia . . . a priestess of Hera. Mars got her with child, and when she had laid her belly of twins, she confessed the truth to the tyrant; which put him in such an apprehension, that he exposed them both on the side of the river Tiber, where they were carried by the stream to a place where a she-wolf had her whelps. The wolf cast away her own, and gave suck to these children. Faustus a shepherd, observing this, took the children to himself, and called them by the names of Romus and Romulus, which came afterwards to be the founders of Rome. — Aristides's Italian Histories. 

37  After the destruction of Troy, Agamemnon and Cassandra were killed; but Orestes, that was brought up with Strophius, revenged the death of his father. — Pyrander's Fourth Book of Peloponnesian Histories. FabiusFabricianus, a kinsman of Fabius Maximus, having taken Tuxium, the chief city of the Samnites, sent to Rome the image of Aphrodite Victrix, which among them was held in great veneration. His wife Fabia was debauched by Petronius Valentinus, a handsome young man, and afterwards she treacherously murdered her husband; but for her son Fabricianus who was yet in his infancy, she shifted him away to be privately brought up, and so provided for his security. When he was grown up, he destroyed both his mother and the adulterer, and was formally acquitted for it by a decree of the Senate. — Dositheus's Third Book of Italian History. 

38  Busiris, the son of Poseidon and Anippe the daughter of Nilus, was used to invite strangers in to him under a pretence of hospitality, and then to murder them; but divine vengeance met with him at last, for Hercules found out the villainy, and killed him with his club. — Agatho the Samian. Hercules, as he was driving Geryon's oxenthrough Italy, took up his lodging with King Faunus there, the son of Hermes, whose custom it was to sacrifice strangers to his father. He set upon Hercules, and had his brains beaten out for his pains. — Dercyllus's Third Book of Italian History. 

39  Phalaris of Agrigentum, a cruel tyrant, was wont to put strangers and travellers to the most exquisite torment. Perillus, a brass-founder, made a cow of brass, and presented it to the king for a new invention, that he might burn strangers alive in it. Phalaris for this once was just, in making the first proof of it upon Perillus himself; and the invention was so artificial, that upon putting it in execution, the engine itself seemed to bellow. — Second Book of Questions or Causes. In Egesta, a city of Sicily, there was a certain tyrant called Aemilius Censorinus, who was so inhuman that he proposed rewards to the inventors of new tortures. There was one Aruntius Paterculus that had framed a brazen horse, and made a present of it to the tyrant to practise with it upon whom he pleased. It was the first piece of justice that ever the tyrant did, to make trial of the torment upon the author of it, that he might first feel himself the torments he had provided for others. He was afterwards thrown down from the Tarpeian Rock. It may be thought that unmerciful rulers are from this tyrant called Aemilii. — Aristides's Fourth Book of Italian History. 

40  Evenus, the son of Mars and Sterope, had a daughter Marpessa by his wife Alcippe, the daughter of Oinomaus; and this girl he had a mind to keep a virgin. But Idas, the son of Aphareus, ran away with her from a choir. Evenus pursued him, and finding he could not overtake him, he threw himself into the river Lycormas, and became immortal. — Dositheus's First Book of Italian History. Anius, a king of the Tuscans, had a delicate, handsome daughter, whose name was Salia, and he took great care to keep her a virgin. But Cathetus, a man of quality, seeing her sporting herself, fell passionately in love with her, and carried her away to Rome. The father made after her, and when he saw there was no catching of her, he threw himself into a river that from him took the name of Anio. Cathetus begot Latinus and Salius upon the body of Salia, the root of a noble race. — AristidesMilesius, and Alexander Polyhistor's Third Book of Italian History. 

41  Hegesistratus an Ephesian committed a murder in his family, and fled to Delphi; on consulting the oracle what place to settle in, the answer was, that when he should come to a place where he should see the country people dancing with garlands of olive-leaves, he should settle there. He travelled into a certain country of Asia, where he found as the oracle told him, and there built a city which he called Elaeus. — Pythocles the Samian, in the Third Book of his Georgics. Telegonus, the son of Ulysses by Circe, was sent to find out his father, and commanded by an oracle to erect a city where he should see the country people dancing with garlands. He came into a certain place of Italy, where he found the countrymen dancing with wreaths of ilex about their heads; so that there he built a city, and called it Prinistum, for an ilex in Greek is πϱῖνος. The Romans corruptly call this city Praeneste. — Aristocles, in the Third Book of his Italian History.

1  Among the many warm disputes which have often happened between Virtue and Fortune, this concerning the Roman empire is none of the least considerable, whether of them shall have the honor of founding that empire at first, and raising it afterwards to vast power and glory. The victory in this cause will be no small commendation of the conqueror, and will sufficiently vindicate either of the contending parties from the allegations that are usually made against it. For Virtue is accused as unprofitable, though beautiful, and Fortune as unstable, though good; the former as laboring in vain, the latter as deceitful in its gifts. But who can deny but Virtue has been most profitable, if Rome does favor her cause in this contention, since she procured so much good to brave and gallant men; or that Fortune is most constant, if she be victorious in this contest, since she continued her gifts with the Romans for so long a time? Ion the poet has written somewhere in prose, that Fortune and Wisdom, though they be very much different from one another, are nevertheless the causes of the very same effects. Both of them do advance and adorn men; both do raise them to glory, power, and empire. It were needless to multiply instances by a long enumeration of particulars, when even Nature itself, which produces all things, is by some reputed Fortune, and by others Wisdom. And therefore the present controversy will conciliate great honor and veneration to the city of Rome, since she is thought worthy of the same enquiry which uses to be made concerning the earth and seas, the heavens and the stars, — whether she owes her being to Fortune or to Providence. 

2  In which question, I think it may be truly affirmed that, notwithstanding the fierce and lasting wars which have been between Virtue and Fortune, they did both amicably conspire to rear up the structure of her vast empire and power, and join their united endeavors to finish the most beautiful work that ever was of human production. It was the opinion of Plato, that the whole world was composed of fire and earth, as necessary first principles, which being mixed together did render it visible and tangible, — the earth contributing weight and firmness, while the fire gave color, form, and motion to the several parts of matter; but for the tempering and union of these extremes, he thought it necessary that the water and air, being of a middle nature, should mitigate and rebate the contrary force by composition. After the same manner did God and Time, who laid the foundations of Rome, conjoin and mingle Virtue and Fortune together, that by the union of their several powers, they might compose a Vesta, truly sacred and beneficent to all men, which should be a firm stay, an eternal support, and a steady anchor (as Democrituscalls it) amidst the fluctuating and uncertain affairs of human life. For as naturalists say, that the world was not framed at first into that beautiful order and structure in which we now behold it, nor would these several bodies that compose it unite and mix so that Nature might receive a common form by their union, but that all things did fluctuate a long while in confusion and crashing, — whilst some bodies were still small and variously moved, and slipped and avoided all seizure and connections, and others which were greater and already compacted, being of contrary natures, did frequently justle and jar one against another, — and that all was full of destruction and confusion and wreck, until such time as the earth, being framed of them both in its due magnitude, was established in its proper place, and by its stability gave occasion to all the other bodies of the universe either to settle upon it or round about it; just so it happened to the greatest kingdoms and empires of men, which were long tossed with various changes and broken in pieces by mutual clashings. And for want of one supreme ruler over all, while all aspired to rule, the world was filled with unspeakable violence, confusion, and revolution in all things, until such time as Rome was raised to its just strength and greatness, which, comprehending under her power many strange nations and even transmarine dominions, did lay the foundation of firmness and stability to the greatest of human affairs; for by this vast compass of one and the same empire, government was secured as in an unmovable circle, resting upon the centre of peace. Whosoever therefore contrived and compassed these great designs must not only have been endowed with all virtues, but likewise have been assisted by Fortune in many things; as will plainly appear from the following discourse. 

3  And now methinks I behold, as from a turret, Virtue and Fortune coming to this conference. As to Virtue, her gait is modest, her countenance grave, the blushing color of her face shows her earnest desire of obtaining victory and honor in this contest. Fortune in her hasty pace, leaves her far behind, but she is led and accompanied by many brave and gallant men, A martial host, ghastly with bloody arms," all wounded in the fore part of their bodies, distilling blood mingled with sweat, and they lean upon the bending spoils of their enemies. If you enquire who they are, they answer, We are of the Fabricii, Camilli, and Lucii, and Cincinnati, and Fabii Maximi, and Claudii Marcelli, and the Scipios. I perceive also in the train of Virtue Caius Marius angry with Fortune, and Mucius Scaevolaholding out his burning hand and crying with a loud voice, Will ye attribute this to Fortune also? And Marcus Horatius, who behaved himself gallantly at the river Tiber, when he cut the bridge and swam over, being loaded with Tyrrhenian darts, showing his wounded thigh, thus expostulates from out of the deep whirlpool of the river, Was I also thus maimed by mere chance? Such is the company of Virtue, when she comes to the dispute; "a company powerful in arms, terrible to their foes." 

4  But as to Fortune, her gait is hasty, her looks bold, her hope arrogant; and leaving Virtue far behind her, she enters the lists, not, as she is described, with light wings, balancing herself in the air, or lightly tripping with her tiptoes upon the convexity of the globe, as if she were presently to vanish away out of sight. No, she does not appear here in any such doubtful and uncertain posture; but as the Spartans say that Aphrodite, when she passed over the Eurotas, put off her gewgaws and female ornaments, and armed herself with spear and shield for the sake of Lycurgus; so Fortune, having deserted the Persians and Assyrians, did swiftly fly over Macedonia, and quickly threw off her favorite Alexander the Great, and after that, having passed through the countries of Egypt and Syria, and oftentimes by turns supported the Carthaginians, she did at last fly over Tiber to the Palatine Mount, and there she put off her wings, her Mercurial shoes, and left her slippery and deceitful globe. Thus she entered Rome, as one that was to be resident there, and thus she comes to the bar in this controversy. She is no more uncertain, as Pindar describes her; she does not henceforth guide a double helm, but continues constant to the Romans, and therefore may be called the sister of Eunomia and Persuasion, and the daughter of Providence, as Alcmandescribes her pedigree. This is certain in the opinion of all men, that she holds in her hand the Horn of Plenty, not that which is filled with verdant fruits, but that which pours forth abundance of all things which the earth or the sea, the rivers or the metals, or the harbors afford. Several illustrious and famous men are seen to accompany her, Numa Pompilius from the Sabines, and Priscus from Tarquinii, whom, being foreigners and strangers, Fortuneseated on the throne of Romulus. Aemilius Paulus also, bringing back his army from Perseus and the Macedonians, and triumphing in an unbloody and entire victory, does greatly magnify and extol Fortune. The same does Caecilius Metellus, that brave old gentleman surnamed Macedonicus, whose corpse was carried forth to its funeral by his four sons, Quintus Balearicus, Lucius Diadematus, Marcus Metellus, and Caius Caprarius, and his two sons-in-law, — who were all six honorable men, and of consular dignity, — and also by his two grandsons, who were famous for the good offices they did to the commonwealth, both abroad by their heroical actions and at home by the administration of justice. Aemilius Scaurus, from a mean estate and a meaner family, was raised by Fortune to that height of dignity that he was chosen Prince of the Senate. It was Fortune that took Cornelius Syllaout of the bosom of Nicopolis the whore, and exalted him above the Cimbrian triumphs of Marius and the dignity of his seven consulships, giving him at once the powers of a monarch and a dictator; upon which account he adopted himself and all his memorable actions to Fortune, crying out with Oidipus in Sophocles, I think myself the son of Fortune. In the Roman tongue he was called Felix, the happy; but he writ himself to the Greeks Lucius Cornelius Sylla Venustus, i. e. Beloved of Aphrodite, — which is also the inscription on all his trophies, both those at Chaeronea with us, and those in honor of his victories over Mithridates; and that not without reason, since it is not the Night, as Menander thought, but Fortune, that enjoys the greatest part of Aphrodite. 

5  And thus, having made a seasonable beginning in defence of Fortune, we may now call in, for witnesses in this cause, the Romans themselves, who attributed more to Fortune than to Virtue. For the temple of Virtue was but lately built by Scipio Numantinus, a long time after the building of the city. And after that, Marcellus dedicated a temple to Virtue and Honor; and Aemilius Scaurus, who lived in the time of the Cimbrian war, founded another to the Mind, when now, by the subtilties of sophists and encomiastics of orators, these things began to be mightily extolled. And to this very day there is no temple built to Wisdom, nor to Temperance, Patience, Magnanimity, or Continence. On the contrary, the temples dedicated to Fortune are splendid and ancient, almost as old as the first foundations of Rome itself. The first that built her a temple was Ancus Marcius, born of the sister of Numa, being the third king from Romulus; and he seems to have made Fortune surname to Fortitude, to which she contributes very much for obtaining victory. The Romans built the temple of Feminine Fortune before the time of Camillus, when by the help of the women they turned back Marcius Coriolanus, leading up the Volsci against the city of Rome; for the women being sent ambassadors to him, together with his mother and wife, prevailed with the man to spare the city at that time and to draw off the army of the barbarians. It is said that this statue of Fortune, when it was consecrated, uttered these words: It was piously done, O ye city matrons, to dedicate me by the law of your state. But (which is more remarkable) Furius Camillus, having quenched the flame of the Gallic war, and rescued Rome from the balance and scales in which her price was weighed to them in gold, did not upon this occasion found a temple to Prudence and Fortitude, but to Fame and Presage; which he built hard by the New Way, in that very place where (it is said) Marcus Caedicius walking in the night-time heard a prophetical voice, commanding him shortly to expect a war from the Gauls. And the Fortune whose temple is near the river they call Fortis (that is, stout, or valiant, or manly), as having the power of conquering all things. And her temple is built in those very gardens which were left by Caesar as a legacy to the people, because they thought that he also was raised to the height of power by the favor of Fortune. 

6  And so Caesar himself testified, otherwise I should be ashamed to say such a thing of so great a person. For when he loosed from Brundisium, and embarked in pursuit of Pompey, on the fourth day of January, though it was then the latter end of winter, he passed over the sea in safety by the good conduct of Fortune, which was stronger than the rigor of the season. And when he found Pompey powerful by sea and land, with all his forces lying together, and himself with his small party altogether unable to give him battle, while the army of Antonius and Sabinus lagged behind, he ventured to set forth again in a little bark, unknown either to the master of the vessel or the pilot, who took him for some servant. But when he saw the pilot began to change his purpose of putting out to sea, because of the violence of the waves, which hindered the sailing out at the mouth of the river, he presently plucked off the disguise from his head and showed himself, encouraging the pilot in these words: Put on, brave fellow, and fear nothing, but commit the sails to Fortune, and expose all boldly to the winds; for thou carriest Caesarand Caesar's fortune. So resolute was Caesar upon this assurance, that Fortune did favor him in his voyages and journeys, his armies and battles; and that it was her province to give calmness to the sea and warmth to a winter season, to give swiftness to the slowest, and vigor to the most sluggish creatures; and (which is more incredible than all this) he believed that Fortune put Pompey to flight, and gave Ptolemy the opportunity of murdering his guest, so that Pompey should fall and Caesar be innocent. 

7  What shall I say of his son, the first that had the honor to be surnamed Augustus, who was emperor four and fifty years? Did not he pray the Gods for his grandson, when he sent him forth to battle, to grant him the courage of Scipio, and the wisdom of Pompey, but his own Fortune, as counting her the chief artificer of his wonderful self? It was she that imposed him upon Cicero, Lepidus, Pansa, Hirtius, and Mark Antony, and by their victories and famous exploits, by their navies, battles, and armies, raised him to the greatest height of power and honor, degrading them by whose means he was thus advanced. For it was for him that Cicero governed the state, Lepidus conducted the armies, and Pansa gained the victories. It was for him that Hirtius fell, and Mark Antonycommitted licentious outrages. Nay, even Cleopatra herself is to be reckoned as part of his good fortune; for on her, as on a dangerous rock, Antony was shipwrecked, although he was so mighty a commander, that Augustus alone might wear the title of Caesar. It is reported of Antony and Augustus, when they lived familiarly together in daily conversation, that Antony was always beaten by Caesar at ball or dice, and in quail or cock fighting. Whereupon a certain friend, who pretended to the art of divination, did freely admonish Antony, and say: "What have you to do, my friend, with this young man? Why don't you avoid his company? You excel him in glory and largeness of empire, you exceed him in age and experience, having signalized your valor in the wars. But your Genius is afraid of his; your Fortune, which is great by itself, does fawn upon his, and will undoubtedly pass over to him, unless you remove yourself to a great distance." 

8  By these testimonies of men the cause of Fortune is supported; after which I proceed now to other arguments taken from the things themselves, beginning from the first foundations of the city of Rome. And first of all, it cannot be denied that, by the birth and preservation of Romulus, by his education and growth, the foundations of Romewere first laid by Fortune; but then withal it must be acknowledged that Virtue finished the building. As to their origin and birth who first founded and built the city, it looked like a wonderful good Fortune. For it is said that their mother conceived by a God; and as Hercules is said to have been sown in a long night, the natural day being preternaturally prolonged by the sun's standing still; so it is reported concerning the begetting of Romulus, that the sun was eclipsed at the time, being in conjunction with the moon, as the immortal God Mars was with the mortal Sylvia. The same is said to have happened about the time of his death. For on the seventh of July, called Nonae Capratinae, which is a feast observed to this day with great solemnity, while the sun was under an eclipse, he suddenly vanished out of the sight of men. After their nativity, when the tyrant would have murdered the new-born babes, by the conduct of Fortune, who was concerned for the preservation of their lives, Romulus and Remus fell into the hands of a servant no ways barbarous and cruel, but pitiful and tender-hearted, who laid them on the pleasant green bank of a river, in a place shaded with lowly shrubs, near to that wild fig-tree, to which the name of Ruminalis was afterwards given. There it was that a she-wolf, having lost her young whelps, by chance lighted on them, and being burdened with her swollen dugs, inflamed for want of evacuation, she gladly let out her overheated milk, as if it had been a second birth, and suckled the young children. The woodpecker also, a bird sacred to Mars, came often unto them, and supporting herself upon one claw, she did by turns open both their mouths with the other, and distribute unto each of them convenient gobbets of her own food. This fig-tree was therefore called Ruminalis, from Ruma, the dug, which the wolf lying down there gave to the infants. And from a veneration of this strange chance of Romulus and of every thing resembling it, the inhabitants thereabout would not expose any of their offspring; but they carefully reared and fostered all new births. Above all things, the hidden craft of Fortuneappeared in their education at the city Gabii; for there they were secretly nursed and brought up, and the people knew nothing of their pedigree, that they were the sons of Sylvia and the grandchildren of king Numitor; which seems to be so ordered on purpose to prevent that untimely death which the knowledge of their royal race would occasion, and to give them opportunity of showing themselves hereafter by their famous exploits, and discovering the nobility of their extraction by their heroical actions. And this brings to my mind the saying of that great and wise commander Themistocles to some of the Athenian captains, who, having followed him in the wars with good success, were grown ambitious to be preferred above him. There was an eager contest, said he, between the festival day and the day following, for precedency. Thou, says the following day, art full of tumult and business, but I give men the peaceful opportunity of enjoying themselves. Ay, says the festival, that's true; but then, I pray you, tell me, if I had not been, where had you been? So, says Themistocles, if I had not preserved my country in the war with the Medes, what use would there be of you now? And after this manner Fortune seems to accost the virtue of Romulus: it is true indeed, your actions are great and famous, by which you have clearly shown that you are descended of the race of the Gods. But see now how far you come behind me. For if I had not relieved the infants in their distress by my bounty and humanity, if I had deserted and betrayed them when they lay naked and exposed, how could you have appeared with such lustre and splendor as now you do? If a she-wolf had not then lighted upon them, inflamed with the abundance and pressure of her milk, which wanted one to give food unto more than any food for herself; if some wild beast had happened to come in her stead, hungry and ravaging for meat; then there had been no such beautiful and stately palaces, temples, theatres, walks, courts, and forum, as now you justly glory of; then your followers had still been shepherds, and your buildings cottages or stables, and they had still lived in subjection to the Albanian, Tyrrhenian, or Latin lords. Certainly the first beginning of all things is of greatest importance, and more especially in building of a city. But it was Fortune that first gave a beginning to Rome, by preserving the founder of it in so many dangers to which he was exposed. For as Virtue made Romulus great, so Fortune preserved him till his virtue did appear. 

9  It is confessed by all, that the reign of Numa, which lasted longest, was conducted by a wonderful good fortune. For as to the story of the wise goddess Egeria, one of the Dryades, — that she being in love conversed familiarly with him, and assisted him in laying the platform and cementing the frame of the commonwealth, — it appears to be rather fabulous than true, since there were others that had Goddesses for their wives and are said to have been loved by them, such as Peleus, Anchises, Orion, and Emathion, who, for all that, did not live so pleasantly and free from trouble. But Numa seems to have had good fortune for his domestic companion and colleague in the government, which, receiving the city of Rome into her protection, at such time as she was tossed like a troublesome sea by the wars of neighboring states, and inflamed with intestine feuds, did quickly heal those breaches and allay those storms that threatened her ruin. And as the sea is said to receive the halcyon brood in a tempest, which it preserves and nourishes; so the people of Rome being lately gathered together, after various commotions and tossings, were by Fortune delivered from all wars, diseases, dangers, and terrors, and settled in such a lasting peace, that they had time and leisure to take root in their new soil and grow up securely into a well-compacted city. For as a great ship or galley is not made without many blows, and much force from hammers, nails, wedges, saws, and axes, and being once built, it must rest for some time upon the stocks, until the bands of its structure grow strong and tenacious, and the nails be well fastened which hold its parts together, lest, being launched while it is loose and unsettled, the hulk should be shattered by the concussion of the waves and let in the water, — so the first artificer of Rome, having built the city of rustical men and shepherds, as on strong foundations, was forced to endure hard labor and maintain dangerous wars against those who opposed its first origination and institution; but after it was once framed and compacted by this force, the second artificer, by the benignity of Fortune, gave it so long rest and peace, till all its parts were consolidated and settled in a firm and lasting posture. But if at that time, when the city was newly built, some Porsena had advanced the Etruscan camp and army to the walls, being yet moist and trembling, or some warlike revolter of the Marsian grandees, or some envious and contentious Lucanian, such as in latter times were Mutius or the bold Silo, or the last plague of Sylla's faction, Telesinus, who with one alarm armed all Italy, — if any of these, I say, had encompassed the philosopher Numawith the sound of trumpets, while he was sacrificing and praying to the Gods, the city being yet unsettled and unfinished, he could never have resisted so great a torrent and tempest, nor increased unto so great numbers of stout and valiant men. That long time of peace therefore in Numa's reign did prepare and fortify the Romans against all the wars which happened afterwards; for by its continuance, during the space of forty-three years, the body of the people was confirmed in that athletic habit which they acquired in the war under Romulus, and which generally prevailed henceforward against all their enemies. For in these years they say Rome was not afflicted with famine or pestilence, with barrenness of the earth, or any notable calamity by winter or summer; all which must be attributed, not to human prudence, but to the good conduct of divine Fortune governing for that time. Then the double gate of Janus was shut, which they call the gate of war, because it is always opened in time of war and shut in time of peace. After Numa's death, it was opened again when the war with the Albans commenced, which was followed with other wars without number in a continued series of time; but after four hundred and eighty years, it was shut again when peace was concluded at the end of the first Punic war, in the consulship of Caius Atilius and Titus Manlius. The next year it was opened again, and the wars lasted until the victory which Augustus obtained at Actium. Then the Roman arms rested but a little while; for the tumults from Cantabria and the wars with the Gauls and Germans breaking in upon them quickly disturbed the peace. These things I have added to explain this argument of the good fortune of Numa. 

10  Even those kings which followed him have admired Fortune as the governess and nurse of Rome, and the city supporter, as Pindar saith. For proof of this, we may consider that the temple of Virtue at Rome was but lately built, many years after the beginning of the city, by that Marcellus who took Syracuse. There is also a temple dedicated to the Mind, or rather to good counsel, called Mens, by Scaurus Aemilius, who lived in the time of the Cimbrian war, when the arms of rhetoric and the sophistry of logic had crept into the city. And even to this day, there are no temples built to Wisdom, Temperance, Patience, and Magnanimity; but the temples of Fortune are very ancient and splendid, adorned with all sorts of honors, and divided amongst the most famous parts and places of Rome. The temple of Manly Fortune was built by Ancus Marcius, the fourth king; which name was therefore given it, because Fortune does contribute very much to valor in obtaining victory. The temple of Feminine Fortunewas consecrated by the matrons, when they drove away Marcius Coriolanus at the head of an army marching against Rome, as everybody knows. Moreover, Servius Tullius, who above all the kings did most enlarge the power of the people and adorn the commonwealth, who first established a good order for the giving of suffrages and for the good discipline of the militia, who was the first censor and overseer of men's lives and sobriety, and is esteemed a most wise and valiant man, — even he threw himself upon Fortune, and owned his kingdom to be derived from her. So great was her kindness to him, that she is thought to have descended into his house by a gateway (which is now called Fenestella) and there to have conversed familiarly with him. Upon which account he built two temples to Fortune, one to that which is called Primogenia in the Capitol, i. e. the first born, as one may expound it; another to that which is called Obsequens, which some interpret as being obsequious to his desires, and others as mild and gentle. I will henceforth leave the Roman names, and endeavor to reckon up and interpret in Greek the meaning of these temples. There is the sanctuary of Private Fortune (Ἰδίας Τύχης ἱερόν) on the Palatine, and that of Sticky/Birdlime (Ἰξευτρίας); which name, though it seems ridiculous, does by a metaphor explain to us the nature of Fortune, that she attracts things at a distance, and retains them when they are brought to contact. At the fountain which is called Mossy (Μουσκῶσαν) the sanctuary of Virgin Fortune (Παρθένου Τύχης ἱερόν) is still to be seen; and that of Regardful Fortune (Ἐπιστρεφομένης, turning-round) in Aiskylia (the Esquiline?). There is an altar also to Fortune of Good Hope (Εὐέλπιδος) in the long narrow street; and near to the altar of AphroditeEpitalaria (Foot-winged) there is a chapel to Male Fortune (Ἀφροδίτης Ἐπιταλαρίου βωμὸν Ἄρρενος Τύχης). Infinite are the honors and titles of Fortune, the greater part of which were instituted by Servius, who knew that "Fortuneis of great weight — nay, is every thing — in all human affairs," and more especially had found by experience that by her favor he was preferred from a captive and hostile nation to be king of the Romans. For when Corniculum was taken by the Romans, the virgin Ocresia being taken at the same time, she for her illustrious beauty and virtue (which the meanness of her fortune could not hide or obscure) was presented to Tanaquil, the consort of King Tarquinius, with whom she served till she was married to one of the retainers whom the Romans call clients; and of them was born Servius. Others tell the story after this manner: that the virgin Ocresia using often to receive the first-fruits and libations from the royal table, which were to be offered in sacrifice, it happened on a time that when, according to the custom, she had thrown them into the fire, upon the sudden expiration of the flame, there appeared to come out of it the genital member of a man. The virgin, being frighted with so strange a sight, told the whole matter to Queen Tanaquil; who, being a wise and understanding woman, judged the vision to be divine, and therefore dressed up the virgin in all her bridal ornaments and attire, and then shut her up in a room together with this apparition. Some attribute this amour to Lar the household God, and others to Vulcan; but whichsoever it was, Ocresia was with child, and gave birth to Servius. And while he was yet an infant, his head was seen to send forth a wonderful brightness, like lightning darted from the skies. But Antias tells this story after a different manner: that when Servius's wife Getania was dead, he fell into a sleep through grief and dejection of mind, in the presence of his mother, and then his head was seen by the woman encompassed by fire; which, as it was a certain token that he was born of fire, so was a good omen of that unexpected kingdom which he obtained after the death of Tarquin, by the means of Tanaquil. This is so much the more to be wondered at, because he of all kings seems to have been least fitted by Nature and most averse by inclination to monarchical government; since he would have resigned his kingdom and divested himself of regal authority, if he had not been hindered by the oath which it appears he made to Tanaquil when she was dying, that he should continue during his life in kingly power, and never change that form of government which he had received from his ancestors. Thus the reign of Servius was wholly owing to Fortune, because he both received it beside his expectation, and retained it against his will. 

11  But lest we should seem to shun the light of bright and evident arguments, and retreat to ancient stories, as to a place of darkness and obscurity, let us now pass over the time of the kings, and go on in our discourse to the most noted actions and famous wars of following times. And first of all it must be confessed that the boldness and courage which are necessary for war do aid and improve military virtue, as Timotheus says; and yet it is manifest to him that will reason aright, that the abundance of success which advanced the Roman Empire to such vast power and greatness is not to be attributed to human strength and counsels, but to a certain divine impulse and a full gale of running Fortune, which carried all before it that hindered the rising glory of the Romans. For now trophies were erected upon trophies, and triumphs hastened to meet one another; before the blood was cold upon their arms, it was washed off with the fresh blood of their falling enemies. Henceforth the victories were not reckoned by the numbers of the slain or the greatness of the spoils, but by the kingdoms that were taken, by the nations that were conquered, by the isles and continents which were added to the vastness of their empire. At one battle Philip was forced to quit all Macedonia, by one stroke Antiochus was beaten out of Asia, by one victory the Carthaginianslost Libya; but which is yet more wonderful, Armenia, the Euxine sea, Syria, Arabia, the Albanians, Iberians, with all the regions as far as Caucasus and the Hyrcanians, were by one man and the success of one expedition reduced under the power of the Roman Empire. The Ocean, which environs the whole earth, beheld him thrice victorious; for he subdued the Numidians in Africa, as far as the southern shores; he conquered Spain, which joined in the madness of Sertorius, as far as the Atlantic Ocean; and he pursued the Albanian kings as far as the Caspian sea. Pompeius Magnus, one and the same man, achieved all those great and stupendous things, by the assistance of that public Fortune which waited upon the Roman arms with success; and after all this, he sank under the weight of his own fatal greatness. The great Genius of the Romans was not propitious for a day only, or for a little time, like that of the Macedonians; it was not powerful by land only, like that of the Laconians, or by sea only, like that of the Athenians. It was not too slowly sensible of injuries, as that of the Persians, nor too easily pacified, like that of the Colophonians; but from the beginning growing up with the city, the more it increased, the more it enlarged the empire, and constantly aided the Romans with its auspicious influence by sea and land, in peace and war, against all their enemies, whether Greeks or barbarians. It was this Genius which dissipated Hannibal the Carthaginian, when he broke in upon Italy like a torrent, and the people could give no assistance, being torn in pieces by intestine jars. It was this Genius that separated the two armies of the Cimbri and Teutones, that they should not meet at the same time and place; by which means Marius the Roman general encountered each army by itself, and overcame them; which, if they had been joined together, would have overflowed all Italy like a deluge, with three hundred thousand valiant men, invincible in arms. It was the same Genius that hindered Antiochus by other occasions from assisting Philip while he was engaged in war with the Romans; so that Philip was first vanquished while Antiochus was still in danger. It was by the conduct of the same Genius that Mithridates was taken up with the Sarmatic and Bastarnic wars while the Marsians attacked Rome; that jealousy and envy divided Tigranes from Mithridates while the latter was flushed with success; but both of them were joined together in the defeat, that they might perish in the same common ruin. 

12  What shall I say more? Has not Fortune relieved the city, when it was reduced to the greatest extremity of danger? When the Gauls encamped about the Capitol and besieged the castle, And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead," did not Fortune and chance discover their secret attack in the night-time, which otherwise had surprised all men? Of which wonderful accident it will not be unseasonable to discourse here a little more largely. After the great overthrow and slaughter of the Romans at the river Allia, some of those that remained fled hastily to Rome, and communicated their terror and consternation to the people there. Some trussed up their bag and baggage and conveyed themselves into the Capitol, resolving there to wait the event of so dismal a calamity; others flocked in great multitudes to Veii, and there proclaimed Furius Camillus dictator, giving him now in their distress an absolute and unaccountable power, whom before in their pride and prosperity they had condemned and banished, as guilty of robbing the public treasure. But Camillus, to strengthen his title to this authority, which might seem to be given him only for the present necessity, contrary to the law of the state touching the election of such a magistrate, scorned to accept an election from a body of armed soldiers, so lately shattered and beaten, as if the government of the city were dissolved; but sent to acquaint the senators that were in the Capitol, and know if they would approve the election of the soldiers. To accomplish this, there was one C. Pontius, who undertook to carry the news of this decree to those in the Capitol, though it was with great danger of his life; for he was to go through the midst of the enemies, who were entrenched and kept watch about the castle. He came therefore in the night-time to the river Tiber, and by the help of broad corks supporting the weight of his body, he was carried down the stream in a smooth calm water, and safely landed on the other side. From thence he passed through places uninhabited, being conducted by darkness and silence, to the rock of the Capitol; and climbing up through its winding and rough passages, with much labor and difficulty at last he arrived at the summit, where, being received by the watch, he acquainted the senators with what was done by the soldiers, and having received their approbation of the decree of election, he returned again to Camillus. The next day after, one of the barbarians by chance walking about this rock, and seeing in one place the prints of his feet and his falls, in another place the grass trodden down which grew upon the interspersed earth, and the plain marks of his body in its winding ascent through the craggy precipice, went presently and informed the rest of the Gauls of the whole matter. They, finding that a way was shown them by the enemy, resolved to follow his footsteps; and taking the advantage of the dead time of the night, when all were fast asleep, not so much as a watch stirring or a dog barking, they climbed up secretly to the castle. But Fortune in this case was wonderfully propitious to the Romans, in discovering and preventing such an imminent danger by the voice of the sacred geese, which were maintained about the temple of Hera for the worship of that Goddess. For that animal being wakeful by nature and easily frighted with the least noise, these sacred geese had been so much neglected by reason of the scarcity of provisions which was in the castle, that they were more easily wakened by the approach of the enemy out of their light and hungry sleep. Therefore they presently perceived the Gauls appearing upon the walls, and with a loud voice flew proudly towards them; but being yet more frightened with the sight of their shining armor, they raised a louder gaggling noise, which wakened the Romans; who understanding the design, presently beat back the enemies, and threw them down over the precipices of the rock. Therefore, in remembrance of this wonderful accident, a dog fastened to a cross, and a goose lying in a bed of state upon a rich cushion, are carried about, even to this day, in pompous solemnity. And now who is not astonished that considers how great the misery of the city was at that time, and how great its happiness is now at this day, when he beholds the splendor and riches of its donatives, the emulation of liberal arts that flourish in it, the accession of noble cities and royal crowns to its empire, and the chief products of sea and land, of isles and continents, of rivers and trees, of animals and fields, of mountains and metallic mines, crowding to adorn and beautify this place? Who is not stunned with admiration at the imminent danger which then was, whether ever those things should be or no; and at those poor timorous birds, which first began the deliverance of the city, when all places were filled with fire, darkness, and smoke, with the swords of barbarians and bloody-minded men? What a prodigy of Fortune was it that those great commanders, the Manlii, the Servii, Postumii, and Papirii, so famous for their warlike exploits and for the illustrious families that have descended from them, should be alarmed in this extremity of danger by the silly geese, to fight for their country's God and their country? And if that be true which Polybius writes in his second book of those Gauls which then possessed Rome, — that they made a peace with Camillus and departed, as soon as they heard the news of the invasion that was made upon their territories by the neighboring barbarians, — then it is past all controversy, that Fortune was the cause of Rome's preservation by drawing off the enemies to another place, or rather forcing them from Rome beyond all men's expectation. 

13  But why do I dwell upon those things which have nothing of certain or evident truth, since the memories of those times have perished, and the history of them is confused, as Livy tells us? For those things which happened in following ages, being plain and manifest to all, do sufficiently demonstrate the benignity of Fortune to Rome; among which I reckon the death of Alexander to be no small cause of the Romans' happiness and security. For he, being a man of wonderful success and most famous exploits, of invincible confidence and pride, who shot like a star, with incredible swiftness, from the rising to the setting sun, was meditating to bring the lustre of his arms into Italy. The pretence of this intended expedition was the death of Alexander Molossus, who was killed at Pandosia by the Bruttians and Lucanians; but the true cause was the desire of glory and the emulation of empire, which instigated him to war against all mankind, that he might extend his dominion beyond the bounds of Dionysos and Hercules. He had heard of the Roman power in Italy, terrible as an army in battle array; of the illustrious name and glory which they had acquired by innumerable battles, in which they were flushed with victory; and this was a sufficient provocation to his ambitious spirit to commence a war against them, which could not have been decided without an ocean of blood; for both armies appeared invincible, both of fearless and undaunted minds; and the Romans then had no fewer than one hundred and thirty thousand stout and valiant men," All expert soldiers, skilled on foot to dare, Or from the bounding courser urge the war.

1.1  This is the oration of Fortune, asserting and challenging Alexander to be her masterpiece, and hers alone. In contradiction to which it behooves us to say something on the behalf of philosophy, or rather in the defence of Alexander himself, who cannot choose but spurn away the very thought of having received his empire as a gift at the hands of Fortune, knowing that it was so dearly bought with the price of his lost blood and many wounds, and that in gaining it, Full many a bloody day In toilsome fight he spent, And many a wakeful night In battle's management;" and all this in opposition to armies almost irresistible, numberless nations, rivers before impassable, and rocks impenetrable; choosing, however, for his chiefest guides and counsellors prudence, endurance, fortitude, and steadiness of mind. 

1.2  And now, methinks, I hear him speaking thus to Fortune, when she signalizes herself with his successes: Envy not my virtue, nor go about to detract from my honor. Darius was a fabric of thy own rearing, who of a servant and the king's courier was by thee advanced to be monarch of all Persia. The same was Sardanapalus, who from a comber of purple wool was raised by thee to wear the royal diadem. But I, subduing as I marched, from Arbelaforced my passage even to Susa itself. Cilicia opened me a broad way into Egypt; and the Granicus, o'er which I passed without resistance, trampling under foot the slain carcasses of Mithridates and Spithridates, opened the way into Cilicia. Pamper up thyself, and boast thy kings that never felt a wound nor ever saw a finger bleed; for they were fortunate, it is true, — thy Ochi and thy Artaxerxes, — who were no sooner born but they were by thee established in the throne of Cyrus. But my body carries many marks of Fortune's unkindness, who rather fought against me as an enemy than assisted me as her friend. First, among the Illyrians I was wounded in the head with a stone, and received a blow in the neck with an iron mace. Then, near the Granicus my head was a second time gashed with a barbarian scimitar; at Issus I was run through the thigh with a sword; at Gaza I was shot in the ankle with a dart; and not long after, falling heavy from my saddle; I forced my shoulder out of joint. Among the Maracadartae my shinbone was split with an arrow. The wounds I received in India and my strenuous acts of daring courage will declare the rest. Then among the Assacani I was shot through the shoulder with another arrow. Encountering the Gandridae, my thigh was wounded; and one of the Mallotes drew his bow with that force, that the well-directed arrow made way through my iron armor to lodge itself in my breast; besides the blow in my neck, when the scaling-ladders brake that were set to the walls, and Fortune left me alone, to gratify with the fall of so great a person not a renowned or illustrious enemy, but ignoble and worthless barbarians. So that had not Ptolemy covered me with his shield, and Limnaeus, after he had received a thousand wounds directed at my body, fallen dead before me; or if the Macedonians, breathing nothing but courage and their prince's rescue, had not opened a timely breach, that barbarous and nameless village might have proved Alexander's tomb. 

1.3  Take the whole expedition together, and what was it but a patient endurance of cold winters and parching droughts; depths of rivers, rocks inaccessible to the winged fowl, amazing sights of strange wild beasts, savage diet, and lastly revolts and treasons of far-controlling potentates. As to what before the expedition befell me, it is well known that all Greece lay gasping and panting under the fatal effects of the Philippic wars. But then the Thebans, raising themselves upon their feet again after so desperate a fall, shook from their arms the dust of Chaeronea; with them also joined the Athenians, reaching forth their helping hands. The treacherous Macedonians, studying nothing but revenge, cast their eyes upon the sons of Aeropus; the Illyrians brake out into an open war; and the Scythians hung in equal balance, seeing their neighbors meditating new revolutions; while Persian gold, liberally scattered among the popular leaders of every city, put all Peloponnesus into motion. King Philip's treasuries were at that time empty, and besides he was in debt, as Onesicritus relates, two hundred talents. In the midst of so much pressing want and such menacing troubles, a youth but new past the age of childhood durst aspire to the conquest of Babylon and Susa, or rather project in his thoughts supreme dominion over all mankind; and all this, trusting only to the strength of thirty thousand foot and four thousand horse. For so many there were, by the account which Aristobulus gives; by the relation of King Ptolemy, there were five thousand horse; from both which Anaximenesvarying musters up the foot to three and forty thousand, and the horse to five thousand five hundred. Now the glorious and magnificent sum which Fortune had raised up to supply the necessities of so great an expedition was no more than seventy talents, according to Aristobulus; or, as Duris records it, only thirty days' provision. 

1.4  You will say therefore that Alexander was too rash and daringly inconsiderate, with such a slender support to rush upon so vast an opposition. By no means: for who was ever better fitted than he for splendid enterprises, with all the choicest and most excelling precepts of magnanimity, consideration, wisdom, and virtuous fortitude, with which a philosophical education largely supplied him for his expedition? So that we may properly affirm that he invaded Persia with greater assistance from Aristotle than from his father Philip. As for those who write how Alexander was wont to say that the Iliad and Odyssey had always followed him in his wars, in honor to Homer I believe them. Nevertheless, if any one affirm that the Iliad and Odyssey were admitted of his train merely as the recreation of his wearied thoughts or pastime of his leisure hours, but that philosophical learning, and commentaries concerning contempt of fear, fortitude, temperance, and nobleness of spirit, were the real cabinet provision which he carried along for his personal use, we contemn their assertion. For he was not a person that ever wrote concerning arguments or syllogisms; none of those who observed walks in the Lyceum, or held disputes in the Academy; for they who thus circumscribe philosophy believe it to consist in discoursing, not in action. And yet we find that neither Pythagoras nor Socrates, Arcesilaus nor Carneades, was ever celebrated for his writings, though they were the most approved and esteemed among all the philosophers. Yet no such busy wars as these employed their time in civilizing wild and barbarous kings, in building Grecian cities among rude and unpolished nations, nor in settling government and peace among people that lived without humanity or control of law. They only lived at ease, and surrendered the business and trouble of writing to the more contentious sophists. Whence then came it to pass that they were believed to be philosophers? It was either from their sayings, from the lives they led, or from the precepts which they taught. Upon these grounds let us take a prospect of Alexander, and we shall soon find him, by what he said, by what he acted, and by the lessons he taught, to be a great philosopher. 

1.5  And first, if you please, consider that which seems the farthest distant of all from the common received opinion, and compare the disciples of Alexander with the pupils of Plato and Socrates. The latter instructed persons ingenuous, such as speak the same speech, well understanding (if nothing else) the Grecian language. But there were many with whom their precepts did not prevail; for men like Critias, Alcibiades, and Cleitophon shook off their doctrine like a bridle, and followed the conduct of their own inclinations. On the other side, take a view of Alexander's discipline, and you shall see how he taught the Hyrcanians the conveniency of wedlock, introduced husbandry among the Arachosians, persuaded the Sogdians to preserve and cherish — not to kill — their aged parents; the Persians to reverence and honor — not to marry — their mothers. Most admirable philosophy! which induced the Indians to worship the Grecian Deities, and wrought upon the Scythians to bury their deceased friends, not to feed upon their carcasses. We admire the power of Carneades's eloquence, for forcing the Carthaginian Clitomachus, called Asdrubal before, to embrace the Grecian customs. No less we wonder at the prevailing reason of Zeno, by whom the Babylonian Diogenes was charmed into the love of philosophy. Yet no sooner had Alexander subdued Asia, than Homer became an author in high esteem, and the Persian, Susian, and Gedrosian youth sang the tragedies of Euripides and Sophocles. Among the Athenians, Socrates, introducing foreign Deities, was condemned to death at the prosecution of his accusers. But Alexander engaged both Bactriaand Caucasus to worship the Grecian Gods, which they had never known before. Lastly, Plato, though he proposed but one single form of a commonwealth, could never persuade any people to make use of it, by reason of the austerity of his government. But Alexander, building above seventy cities among the barbarous nations, and as it were sowing the Grecian customs and constitutions all over Asia, quite weaned them from their former wild and savage manner of living. The laws of Plato here and there a single person may peradventure study, but myriads of people have made and still make use of Alexander's. And they whom Alexander vanquished were more greatly blessed than they who fled his conquests. For these had none to deliver them from their ancient state of misery; the others the victor compelled to better fortune. True therefore was that expression of Themistocles, when he was a fugitive from his native country, and the king entertained him with sumptuous presents, assigning him three stipendiary cities to supply his table, one with bread, a second with wine, a third with all manner of costly viands; Ah! young men, said he, had we not been undone, we had surely been undone. It may, however, be more justly averred of those whom Alexander subdued, had they not been vanquished, they had never been civilized. Egypt had not vaunted her Alexandria, nor Mesopotamia her Seleucia; Sogdiana had not gloried in her Propthasia, nor the Indians boasted their Bucephalia, nor Caucasus its neighboring Grecian city; by the founding of all which barbarism was extinguished and custom changed the worse into better. If then philosophers assume to themselves their highest applause for cultivating the most fierce and rugged conditions of men, certainly Alexander is to be acknowledged the chiefest of philosophers, who changed the wild and brutish customs of so many various nations, reducing them to order and government. 

1.6  It is true indeed that the so much admired commonwealth of Zeno, first author of the Stoic sect, aims singly at this, that neither in cities nor in towns we should live under laws distinct one from another, but that we should look upon all men in general to be our fellow-countrymen and citizens, observing one manner of living and one kind of order, like a flock feeding together with equal right in one common pasture. This Zeno wrote, fancying to himself, as in a dream, a certain scheme of civil order, and the image of a philosophical commonwealth. But Alexander made good his words by his deeds; for he did not, as Aristotle advised him, rule the Grecians like a moderate prince and insult over the barbarians like an absolute tyrant; nor did he take particular care of the first as his friends and domestics, and scorn the latter as mere brutes and vegetables; which would have filled his empire with fugitive incendiaries and perfidious tumults. But believing himself sent from Heaven as the common moderator and arbiter of all nations, and subduing those by force whom he could not associate to himself by fair offers, he labored thus, that he might bring all regions, far and near, under the same dominion. And then, as in a festival goblet, mixing lives, manners, customs, wedlock, all together, he ordained that every one should take the whole habitable world for his country, of which his camp and army should be the chief metropolis and garrison; that his friends and kindred should be the good and virtuous, and that the vicious only should be accounted foreigners. Nor would he that Greeks and barbarians should be distinguished by long garments, targets, scimitars, or turbans; but that the Grecians should be known by their virtue and courage, and the barbarians by their vices and their cowardice; and that their habit, their diet, their marriage and custom of converse, should be everywhere the same, engaged and blended together by the ties of blood and pledges of offspring. 

1.7  Therefore it was that Demaratus the Corinthian, an acquaintance and friend of Philip, when he beheld Alexander in Susa, bursting into tears of more than ordinary joy, bewailed the deceased Greeks, who, as he said, had been bereaved of the greatest blessing on earth, for that they had not seen Alexander sitting upon the throne of Darius. Though most assuredly, for my part, I do not envy the beholders this show, which was only a thing of chance and a happiness of more ordinary kings. But I would gladly have been a spectator of those majestic and sacred nuptials, when, after he had betrothed together a hundred Persian brides and a hundred Macedonian and Greek bridegrooms, he placed them all at one common table within the compass of one pavilion embroidered with gold, as being all of the same family; and then, crowned with a nuptial garland, and being himself the first to sing an epithalamium in honor of the conjunction between two of the greatest and most potent nations in the world, of only one the bridegroom, of all the brideman, father, and moderator, he caused the several couples to be severally married. Had I but beheld this sight, ecstasied with pleasure I should have then cried out: "Barbarous and stupid Xerxes, how vain was all thy toil to cover the Hellespont with a floating bridge! Thus rather wise and prudent princes join Asia to Europe. They join and fasten nations together not with boards or planks, or surging brigandines, not with inanimate and insensible bonds, but by the ties of legitimate love, chaste nuptials, and the infallible gage of progeny." 

1.8  But then, when he considered the Eastern garments, Alexander preferred the Persian before the Medianhabit, though much the meaner and more frugal garb. Therefore rejecting the gaudy and scenical ornament of barbarian gallantry, such as were the tiara and candys, together with the upper breeches, according to the report of Eratosthenes, he ordered a mixture of the Macedonian and Persian modes to be observed in all the garments which he wore. As a philosopher, he contented himself with mediocrity; but as the common chieftain of both and as a mild and affable prince, he was willing to gain the affection of the vanquished by the esteem which he showed to the mode of the country; that so they might continue the more steadfast and loyal to the Macedonians, not hating them as their enemies, but loving them as their princes and rulers. This behavior was contrary to that of persons insipid and puffed up with prosperity, who wedded to their own humors admire the single colored robe but cannot endure the tunic bordered with purple, or else are well pleased with the latter and hate the former, like young children, in love with the mode in which, as another nurse, their country's custom first apparelled them. And yet we see that they who hunt wild beasts clothe themselves with their hairy skins; and fowlers make use of feathered jerkins; nor are others less wary how they show themselves to wild bulls in scarlet or to elephants in white; for those creatures are provoked and enraged at the sight of these colors. If then this potent monarch, designing to reclaim and civilize stubborn and warlike nations, took the same course to soften and allay their inbred fury which others take with wild beasts, and at length brought them to be tame and tractable by making use of their familiar habits and by submitting to their customary course of life, thereby removing animosity from their breasts and sour looks from their countenances, shall we blame his management; or rather must we not admire the wisdom of him who by so slight a change of apparel ruled all Asia, subduing their bodies with his arms and vanquishing their minds with his habit? It is a strange thing; we applaud Socratic Aristippus, because, being sometimes clad in a poor threadbare cloak, sometimes in a Milesian robe, he kept a decency in both; but they censure Alexander, because he gave some respect to the garb and mode of those whom he had vanquished, as well as to that of his native country; not considering that he was laying the foundation of vast achievements. It was not his design to ransack Asia like a robber, or to despoil and ruin it, as the prey and rapine of unexpected good fortune, as afterwards Hannibal pillaged Italy, and before him the Treres ravaged Ionia and the Scythians harassed Media, — but to subdue all the kingdoms of the earth under one form of government, and to make one nation of all mankind. So that if the same Deity which hither sent the soul of Alexander had not too soon recalled it, one law had overlooked all the world, and one form of justice had been as it were the common light of one universal government; while now that part of the earth which Alexander never saw remains without a sun. 

1.9  Thus, in the first place, the very scope and aim of Alexander's expedition speaks him a philosopher, as one that sought not to gain for himself luxurious splendor or riches, but to establish concord, peace, and mutual community among all men. Next, let us consider his sayings, seeing that the souls of other kings and potentates betray their conditions and inclinations by their expressions. Antigonus the Aged, having heard a certain poet sing before him a short treatise concerning justice, said, Thou art a fool to mention justice to me, when thou seest me thundering down the cities belonging to other people about their ears. Dionysius the Tyrant was wont to say that children were to be cheated with dice, but men with oaths. Upon the monument of Sardanapalus this inscription is to be seen: All I did eat and drink, and all that lust To me vouchsafed, I have; all else is gone. What now can a man say of these apophthegms, but that the first denotes injustice and immoderate desire of sovereignty; the next impiety; and the third sensuality? But as for the sayings of Alexander, set aside his diadem, his claimed descent from Ammon, and the nobility of his Macedonian extraction, and you would believe them to have been the sayings of Socrates, Plato, or Pythagoras. For we omit the swelling hyperboles of flattery which poets have inscribed under his images and statues, studying rather to extol the power of Alexander than his moderation and temperance; as, for example: The statue seems to look to Zeus and say, Take thou Olympus; me let Earth obey! and that other: This is Alexander the son of Zeus. But these, as I said, were only the flashes of poetic adulation magnifying his good success. Let us therefore come to such sentences as were really uttered by Alexander himself, beginning first with the early blossoms of his childhood. It is well known that for swiftness in running he exceeded all that were of his years; for which reason some of his most familiar play-fellows would have persuaded him to show himself at the Olympic games. He asked them whether there were any kings to contend with him. And when they replied that there were none, he said, The contest then is unequal, for I can conquer only private men, while they may conquer a king. His father, King Philip, being run through the thigh in a battle against the Triballi, and, though he escaped the danger, being not a little troubled at the deformity of his limping; Be of good cheer, father, said he, and show yourself in public, that you may be reminded of your bravery at every step. Are not these the products of a mind truly philosophical, which by an inspired inclination to what is noble already contemns the disfigurings of the body? Nor can we otherwise believe but that he himself gloried in his own wounds, which every time he beheld them called to his remembrance the conquered nation and the victory, what cities he had taken, what kings had surrendered themselves; never striving to conceal or cover those indelible characters and scars of honor, which he always carried about him as the engraven testimonies of his virtue and fortitude. 

1.10  Then again, if any dispute arose or judgment were to be given upon any of Homer's verses, either in the schools or at meals, this that follows he always preferred above the rest: Both a good king, and far renowned in war;" believing that the praise which another by precedency of time had anticipated was to be a law also to himself, and saying that Homer in the same verse had extolled the fortitude of Agamemnon and prophesied of Alexander's. Crossing therefore the Hellespont, he viewed the city of Troy, revolving in his mind the heroic acts of antiquity. At this time one of the chief citizens proffering to him Paris's harp, if he pleased to accept it; I need it not, said he, for I have that with which Achilles pleased himself already, When he the mighty deeds of heroes sung, Whose fame so loudly o'er the world has rung;" but as for Paris, his soft and effeminate harmony was devoted only to the pleasures of amorous courtship. Now it is part of a true philosopher's soul to love wisdom and chiefly to admire wise men; and this was Alexander's praise beyond all other princes. His high esteem for his master Aristotle we have already mentioned. No less honor did he give to Anaxarchus the musician, whom he favored as one of his choicest friends. To Pyrrhon the Elean, the first time he saw him, he gave a thousand crowns in gold. To Xenocrates, the companion of Plato, he sent an honorary present of fifty talents. Lastly, it is recorded by several that he made Onesicratus, the disciple of Diogenes the Cynic, chief of his pilots. But when he came to discourse with Diogenes himself at Corinth, he was struck in such a manner with wonder and astonishment at the course of life and sententious learning of the person, that frequently calling him to mind he was wont to say, Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. That is, I would have devoted myself to the study of words, had I not been a philosopher in deeds. He did not say, Were I not a king, I would be Diogenes; nor, Were I not opulent, an Argeades. For he did not prefer fortune before wisdom, nor the purple robe or regal diadem before the beggar's wallet and threadbare mantle; but he said, Were I not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. That is: "Had I not designed to intermix barbarians and Greeks and to civilize the earth as I marched forward, and had I not proposed to search the limits of sea and land, and so, extending Macedon to the land-bounding ocean, to have sown Greece in every region all along and to have diffused justice and peace over all nations, I would not have sat yawning upon the throne of slothful and voluptuous power, but would have labored to imitate the frugality of Diogenes. But now pardon us, Diogenes. We follow the example of Hercules, we emulate Perseus, and tread in the footsteps of Dionysos, our divine ancestor and founder of our race; once more we purpose to settle the victorious Greeks in India, and once more to put those savage mountaineers beyond Caucasus in mind of their ancient Bacchanalian revels. There, by report, live certain people professing a rigid and austere philosophy, and more frugal than Diogenes, as going altogether naked; pious men, governed by their own constitutions and devoted wholly to God. They have no occasion for scrip or wallet, for they never lay up provision, having always fresh and new gathered from the earth. The rivers afford them drink, and at night they rest upon the grass and the leaves that fall from the trees. By our means shall they know Diogenes, and Diogenes them. But it behooves us also, as it were, to make a new coin, and to stamp a new face of Grecian civility upon the barbarian metal." 

1.11  Tell me now; can such generous acts of Alexander as these be thought to speak the spontaneous favors of Fortune, only an impetuous torrent of success and strength of hand? Do they not rather demonstrate much of fortitude and justice, much of mildness and temperance, in one who managed all things with decorum and consideration, with a sober and intelligent judgment? Not that I (believe me) go about to distinguish between the several acts of Alexander, and to ascribe this to fortitude, that to humanity, another to temperance; but I take every act to be an act of all the virtues mixed together. This is conformable to that Stoic sentence, "What a wise man does he does by the impulse of all the virtues together; only one particular virtue seems to head every action, and calling the rest to her assistance drives on to the end proposed." Therefore we may behold in Alexander a warlike humanity, a meek fortitude, a liberality poised with good husbandry, anger easily appeased, chaste amours, a busy relaxation of mind, and labor not wanting recreation. Who ever like him mixed festivals with combats, revels and jollity with expeditions, nuptials and bacchanals with sieges and difficult attempts? To those that offended against the law who more severe? To the unfortunate who more pitiful? To those that made resistance who more terrible? To suppliants who more merciful? This gives me an occasion to insert here the saying of Porus. For he being brought a captive before Alexander, and by him being asked how he expected to be treated, Royally, said he, O Alexander. And being further asked whether he desired no more, he replied, Nothing; for all things are comprehended in that word "royally." And for my part, I know not how to give a greater applause to the actions of Alexander, than by adding the word "philosophically," for in that word all other things are included. Being ravished with the beauty of Roxana, the daughter of Oxyarthes, dancing among the captive ladies, he never assailed her with injurious lust, but married her philosophically. Beholding Darius stuck to the heart with several arrows, he did not presently sacrifice to the Gods or sing triumphal songs to celebrate the end of so long a war, but unclasping his own cloak from his shoulders he threw it over the dead corpse philosophically, as it were to cover the shame of royal calamity. Another time, as he was perusing a private letter sent him by his mother, he observed Hephaestion, who was sitting by him, to read it along with him, little understanding what he did. For which unwary act Alexander forbore to reprove him; only clapping his signet to his mouth, he thus kindly admonished him that his lips were then sealed up to silence by the friendly confidence which he reposed in him, — all this philosophically. And indeed if these were not acts done philosophically, where shall we find them? 

1.12  Let us compare with his some few acts of those who are by all allowed to be philosophers. Socrates yielded to the lustful embraces of Alcibiades. Alexander, when Philoxenus, governor of the sea-coasts, wrote to him concerning an Ionian lad that had not his equal for youthful beauty, and desired to know whether he should be sent to him or not, returned him this nipping answer: Vilest of men, when wast thou ever privy to any desires of mine, that thou shouldst think to flatter me with such abhorred allurements? We admire the abstinency of Xenocrates for refusing the gift of fifty talents which Alexander sent him; but do we take no notice of the munificence of the giver? Or is the bountiful person not to be thought as much a contemner of money as he that refuses it? Xenocratesneeded not riches, by reason of his philosophy; but Alexander wanted wealth, by reason of the same philosophy, that he might be more liberal to such persons. . . . How often has Alexander borne witness to this in the midst of a thousand dangers? It is true, we believe that it is in the power of all men to judge rightly of things; for nature guides us of herself to virtue and bravery. But herein philosophers excel all others, that they have by education acquired a fixed and solid judgment to encounter whatever dangers they meet with. For most men have no such maxims to defend them as this in Homer: Without a sign his sword the brave man draws, And needs no omen but his country's cause." And that other of Demosthenes: Death is the certain end of all mankind." But sudden apparitions of imminent danger many times break our resolutions; and the fancy troubled with the imagination of approaching peril chases away true judgment from her seat. For fear not only astonishes the memory, according to the saying of Thucydides, but it dissipates all manner of consideration, sense of honor, and resolution; while philosophy binds and keeps them together. . . . Note. — The text is defective at the end, and elsewhere in the last chapter. 

2.1  THE SECOND ORATION OF PLUTARCH CONCERNING THE FORTUNE OR VIRTUE OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 

We forgot in our yesterday's discourse to tell you, that the age wherein Alexander flourished had the happiness to abound in sciences and in persons of transcending natural endowments. Yet this is not to be ascribed to Alexander's but their own good fortune, which favored them with such a judge and such a spectator of their particular excellencies as was both able rightly to discern and liberally to reward their understood deserts. Therefore it is recorded of Archestratus, born some ages after, an elegant poet but buried in his own extreme poverty, that a certain person meeting him said, Hadst thou but lived when Alexander lived, for every verse he would have gratified thee with an island of Cyprus or a territory fair as that of Phoenicia. Which makes me of opinion that those former famous artists and soaring geniuses may not so properly be said to have lived in the time of Alexander as by Alexander. For as the temperature of the season and limpid thinness of the surrounding air produce plenty of grain and fruit; so the favor, the encouragement, and benignity of a prince increase the number of aspiring geniuses, and advance perfection in sciences. And on the other side, by the envy, covetousness, and contentiousness of those in power, whatever soars to the height of true bravery or invention is utterly quelled and extinguished. Therefore it is reported of Dionysius the Tyrant that, being pleased with the music of a certain player on a harp, he promised him a talent for his reward; but when the musician claimed his promise the next day, Yesterday, said he, by thee delighted, while thou sangest before me, I gave thee likewise the pleasure of thy hopes; and thence immediately didst thou receive the reward of thy delightful pastime, enjoying at the same time the charming expectation of my promise. In like manner Alexander tyrant of the Pheraeans (for it behooves us to distinguish him by that addition, lest we should dishonor his namesake), sitting to see a tragedy, was so affected with delight at the acting, that he found himself moved to a more than ordinary compassion. Upon which, leaping suddenly from his seat, as he hastily flung out of the theatre, How poor and mean it would look, said he, if I, that have massacred so many of my own citizens and subjects, should be seen here weeping at the misfortunes of Hecuba and Polyxena! And it was an even lay but that he had mischiefed the tragedian for having mollified his cruel and merciless disposition, like iron softened by fire. Timotheus also, singing to Archelaus who seemed too parsimonious in remuneration, frequently upbraided him with the following sarcasm: Base earth-bred silver thou admirest. To whom Archelaus not unwittily reparteed: But thou dost beg it. Ateas, king of the Scythians, having taken Ismenias the musician prisoner, commanded him to play during one of his royal banquets. And when all the rest admired and applauded his harmony, Ateas swore that the neighing of a horse was more delightful to his ears. So great a stranger was he to the habitations of the Muses; as one whose soul lodged always in his stables, fitter however to hear asses bray than horses neigh. Therefore, among such kings, what progress or advancement of noble sciences or esteem for learning can be expected? And surely no more can be expected from such as would themselves be rivals, who therefore persecute real artists with all the hatred and envy imaginable. In the number of these was Dionysiusbefore mentioned, who condemned Philoxenus the poet to labor in the quarries, because, being by the tyrant commanded only to correct a tragedy by him written, he struck out every line from the beginning to the end. Nay, I must needs say that Philip, who became a student not till his latter years, in these things descended beneath himself. For it being once his chance to enter into a dispute about sounds with a musician whom he thought he had foiled in his art, the person modestly and with a smile replied, May never so great a misfortune befall thee, O King, as to understand these things better than I do. 

2.2  But Alexander, well considering of what persons and things it became him to be the hearer and spectator, and with whom to contend and exercise his strength, made it his business to excel all others in the art of war, and according to Aeschylus, to be A mighty warrior, terrible to his foes. For having learned this art from his ancestors, the Aeacidae and Hercules, he gave to other arts their due honor and esteem without the least emulation; embracing and favoring what was in them noble and elegant, but never suffering himself to be carried away with the pleasure of being a practitioner in any. In his time flourished the two tragedians, Thessalus and Athenodorus, who contending for the prize, the Cyprian kings supplied the charges of the theatre, and the judges were to be the most renowned captains of the age. But at length Athenodorus being adjudged the victor; I could have wished, said Alexander, rather to have lost a part of my kingdom than to have seen Thessalus vanquished. Yet he neither interceded with the judges nor anywhere disapproved or blamed the judgment; believing it became him to be superior to all others, only to submit to justice. To the comedian Lyco of Scarphe, who had inserted into one of his scenes certain verses in the nature of a begging petition, he gave ten talents, laughing heartily at the conceit. Aristonicus was in the number of the most famous musicians of those times. This man being slain in battle, strenuously fighting to assist and save his friend, Alexander commanded his statue to be made in brass and set up in the temple of Pythian Apollo, holding his harp in one hand and his spear upright in the other, not only in memory of the person, but in honor of music itself, as exciting to fortitude and inspiring those who are rightly and generously bred to it with a kind of supernatural courage and bravery. Even Alexander himself, when Antigenides played before him in the Harmatian mood, was so transported and warmed for battle by the charms of lofty airs, that leaping from his seat all in his clattering armor he began to lay about him and attack those who stood next him, thereby verifying to the Spartans what was commonly sung among themselves, The masculine touches of the well-turned lyre Unsheathe the sword and warlike rage inspire." Furthermore, there were also Apelles the painter and Lysippus the statuary both living under the reign of Alexander. The first of which painted him grasping Zeus's thunderbolt in his hand, so artfully and in such lively colors, that it was said of the two Alexanders that Philip's was invincible, but Apelles's inimitable. Lysippus, when he had finished the first statue of Alexander looking up with his face to the sky (as Alexander was wont to look, with his neck slightly bent), not improperly added to the pedestal the following lines: The statue seems to look to Zeus and say, Take thou Olympus; me let Earth obey! For which Alexander gave to Lysippus the sole patent for making all his statues; because he alone expressed in brass the vigor of his mind, and in his lineaments represented the lustre of his virtue; while others, who strove to imitate the turning of his neck and softness and brightness of his eyes, failed to observe the manliness and lion-like fierceness of his countenance. Among the great artists of that time was Stasicrates, who never studied elegance nor what was sweet and alluring to the eye, but only bold and lofty workmanship and design, becoming the munificence of royal bounty. He attended upon Alexander, and found fault with all the paintings, sculptures, and cast figures that were made of his person, as the works of mean and slothful artificers. "But I," said he, "will undertake to fix the likeness of thy body on matter incorruptible, such as has eternal foundations and a ponderosity steadfast and immovable. For the mountain Athos in Thrace, where it rises largest and most conspicuous, having a just symmetry of breadth and height, with members, limbs, and distances answerable to the shape of human body, may be so wrought and formed as to be, not only in imagination and fancy but really, the effigy and statue of Alexander; with his feet reaching to the seas, grasping in his left hand a fair and populous city, and with his right pouring forth an ever-flowing river into the ocean from a bowl, as a perpetual drink-offering. But as for gold, brass, ivory, wood, stained figures, and little wax images, toys which may be bought or stolen, I despise them all." When Alexander heard this discourse, he admired and praised the spirit and confidence of the artist; "But," said he, "let Athos alone; for it is sufficient that it is the monument of the vanquished folly and presuming pride of one king already. Our portraiture the snowy Caucasus, and towering Emodon, Tanais, and the Caspian Sea shall draw. They shall remain eternal monuments of our renown."