The Scholemaster by Roger Ascham
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The Scholemaster

by Roger Ascham

August, 1999 [Etext #1844]

The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Scholemaster, by Roger Ascham The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Schoolmaster, by Roger Ascham ******This file should be named smstr10.txt or smstr10.zip******

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This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, NE

Note: I have omitted signature designations, have
transcribed Greek characters but not italicized them, and have expanded the usual Renaissance contractions
for “m” and “n” as well as the abbreviation for Latin terminal “que”; marginalia are separated from textual line by // and a curly bracket or vertical line vertically exending over more than one line is represented by a curly bracket on each successive line. I have also closed : and ? with the word preceding.

<lb>THE

<lb>

<lb><i>SCHOLEMASTER</i>

<lb>

<lb><i>Or plaine and perfite way of tea-

<lb>chyng children, to vnderstand, write, and

<lb>speake, the Latin tong, but specially purposed

<lb>for the priuate brynging vp of youth in Ientle-

<lb>men and Noble mens houses, and commodious

<lb>also for all such, as haue forgot the Latin

<lb>tonge, and would, by themselues, with-

<lb>out a Scholemaster, in short tyme,

<lb>and with small paines, recouer a

<lb>sufficient habilitie, to vnder-

<lb>stand, write, and

<lb>speake Latin.</i>

<lb>

<lb>By Roger Ascham.

<lb>

<lb></i>An.</i> 1570.

<lb>

<lb><i>AT LONDON.</i>

<lb>

<lb>Printed by Iohn Daye, dwelling

<lb>ouer Aldersgate.

<lb>

<lb><i>Cum Gratia & Priuilegio Regiæ Maiestatis,

<lb>per Decennium.</i>

<lb>

<lb>[page intentionally blank]

<lb>

<lb> To the honorable Sir William

<lb>

<lb>Cecill Knight, principall Secretarie to

<lb>

<lb>the Quenes most excellent Maiestie.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>SOndry and reasonable be the causes why learned men haue vsed <lb>to offer and dedicate such workes as they put abrode, to some <lb>such personage as they thinke fittest, either in respect of abilitie of <lb>defense, or skill for iugement, or priuate regard of kindenesse and <lb>dutie. Euery one of those considerations, Syr, moue me of right to <lb>offer this my late husbands</i> M. Aschams <i>worke vnto you. For <lb>well remembryng how much all good learnyng oweth vnto you for <lb>defense therof, as the Vniuersitie of Cambrige, of which my said <lb>late husband was a member, haue in chosing you their worthy <lb>Chaunceller acknowledged, and how happily you haue spent your <lb>time in such studies & caried the vse therof to the right ende, to <lb>the good seruice of the Quenes Maiestie and your contrey to all our <lb>benefites, thyrdly how much my sayd husband was many wayes <lb>bound vnto you, and how gladly and comfortably he vsed in hys lyfe <lb>to recognise and report your goodnesse toward hym, leauyng with me <lb>then hys poore widow and a great sort of orphanes a good comfort in <lb>the hope of your good continuance, which I haue truly found to me <lb>and myne, and therfore do duely and dayly pray for you and <lb>yours: I could not finde any man for whose name this booke was <lb>more agreable for hope [of] protection, more mete for submission to <lb>iudgement, nor more due for respect of worthynesse of your part and <lb>thankefulnesse of my husbandes and myne. Good I trust it shall do, <lb>as I am put in great hope by many very well learned that can well <lb>iudge therof. Mete therefore I compt it that such good as my <lb>husband was able to doe and leaue to the common weale, it should</i>

<lb>

<lb>174 <i>Preface.</i>

<lb>

<lb><i>be receiued vnder your name, and that the world should owe thanke <lb>therof to you, to whom my husband the authour of it was for good <lb>receyued of you, most dutiefully bounden. And so besechyng you, to <lb>take on you the defense of this booke, to auaunce the good that may <lb>come of it by your allowance and furtherance to publike vse and <lb>benefite, and to accept the thankefull recognition of me and my poore <lb>children, trustyng of the continuance of your good me-

<lb>morie of</i> M. Ascham <i>and his, and dayly commen-

<lb>dyng the prosperous estate of you and yours to

<lb>God whom you serue and whoes you

<lb>are, I rest to trouble you.</i>

<lb>Your humble Margaret

<lb>Ascham.

<lb>

<lb><i>A Præface to the

<lb>Reader.</i>

<lb>

<lb>WHen the great plage was at London, the yeare 1563.

<lb>the Quenes Maiestie Queene <i>Elizabeth</i>, lay at her <lb>Castle of Windsore: Where, vpon the 10. day of December, <lb>it fortuned, that in Sir <i>William Cicells</i> chamber, hir Highnesse <lb>Principall Secretarie, there dined togither these personages, <lb>M. Secretarie him selfe, Syr <i>William Peter</i>, Syr <i>J. Mason</i>, <lb>D. <i>Wotton</i>, Syr <i>Richard Sackuille</i> Treasurer of the Exchecker, <lb>Syr <i>Walter Mildmaye</i> Chauncellor of the Exchecker, M.

<lb><i>Haddon</i> Master of Requestes, M. <i>John Astely</i> Master of the <lb>Iewell house, M. <i>Bernard Hampton</i>, M. <i>Nicasius</i>, and <i>J</i>.

<lb>Of which number, the most part were of hir Maiesties most <lb>honourable priuie Counsell, and the reast seruing hir in verie <lb>good place. I was glad than, and do reioice yet to remember, <lb>that my chance was so happie, to be there that day, in the <lb>companie of so manie wise & good men togither, as hardly <lb>than could haue beene piked out againe, out of all England <lb>beside.

<lb> M. Secretarie hath this accustomed maner, though his head <lb>be neuer so full of most weightie affaires of the Realme, yet, at <lb>diner time he doth seeme to lay them alwaies aside: and findeth <lb>euer fitte occasion to taulke pleasantlie of other matters, <lb>but most gladlie of some matter of learning: wherein, he will <lb>curteslie heare the minde of the meanest at his Table.

<lb> Not long after our sitting doune, I haue strange newes <lb>brought me, sayth M. Secretarie, this morning, that diuerse <lb>Scholers of Eaton, be runne awaie from the

<lb>Schole, for feare of beating. Whereupon, M. //M. <i>Secreta-</i>

<lb>Secretarie tooke occasion, to wishe, that some //<i>rie.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>176 <i>A Præface to the Reader.</i>

<lb>

<lb>more discretion were in many Scholemasters, in vsing correction, <lb>than commonlie there is. Who many times, punishe rather, <lb>the weakenes of nature, than the fault of the Scholer. Whereby, <lb>many Scholers, that might else proue well, be driuen to hate <lb>learning, before they knowe, what learning meaneth: and so, <lb>are made willing to forsake their booke, and be glad to be put <lb>to any other kinde of liuing.

<lb> M. <i>Peter</i>, as one somewhat seuere of nature, said plainlie, <lb>M. <i>Peter.</i> // that the Rodde onelie, was the sworde, that must <lb>keepe, the Schole in obedience, and the Scholer

<lb>M. <i>Wotton.</i> // in good order. M. <i>Wotton</i>, á man milde of nature, <lb>with soft voice, and fewe wordes, inclined to M. Secretaries <lb>iudgement, and said, in mine opinion, the Schole-

<lb>Ludus li- // house should be in deede, as it is called by name, <lb>terarum. // the house of playe and pleasure, and not of feare <lb><i>Plato</i> de // and bondage: and as I do remember, so saith <lb>Rep. 7. // <i>Socrates</i> in one place of <i>Plato</i>. And therefore, <lb>if a Rodde carie the feare of à Sworde, it is no maruell, if those <lb>that be fearefull of nature, chose rather to forsake the Plaie, <lb>than to stand alwaies within the feare of a Sworde in a fonde <lb>mans handling. M. <i>Mason</i>, after his maner, was <lb>M. <i>Mason.</i> // verie merie with both parties, pleasantlie playing, <lb>both, with the shrewde touches of many courste boyes, and with <lb>the small discretion of many leude Scholemasters. M. <i>Haddon</i>

<lb>was fullie of M. <i>Peters</i> opinion, and said, that <lb>M. <i>Haddon.</i> // the best scholemaster of our time, was the <lb>greatest beater, and named the Person. Though, quoth I, it <lb>was his good fortune, to send from his Schole,

<lb>The Author of // vnto the Vniuersitie, one of the best Scholers in <lb>this booke. // deede of all our time, yet wise men do thinke, <lb>that that came so to passe, rather, by the great towardnes of the <lb>Scholer, than by the great beating of the Master: and whether <lb>this be true or no, you your selfe are best witnes. I said <lb>somewhat farder in the matter, how, and whie, yong children, <lb>were soner allured by loue, than driuen by beating, to atteyne <lb>good learning: wherein I was the bolder to say my minde, <lb>bicause M. Secretarie curteslie prouoked me thereunto: or else, <lb>in such à companie, and namelie in his præsence, my wonte is, <lb>to be more willing, to vse mine eares, than to occupie my <lb>tonge.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>A Præface to the Reader.</i> 177

<lb>

<lb>Syr <i>Walter Mildmaye</i>, M. <i>Astley</i>, and the rest, said verie <lb>litle: onelie Syr <i>Rich. Sackuill</i>, said nothing at all. After dinner <lb>I went vp to read with the Queenes Maiestie. We red than <lb>togither in the Greke tongue, as I well remember. // Demost.

<lb>that noble Oration of <i>Demosthenes</i> against <i>Æschines</i>, // peri pa-

<lb>for his false dealing in his Ambassage to king // rapresb.

<lb><i>Philip</i> of Macedonie. Syr <i>Rich. Sackuile</i> came vp sone after: and <lb>finding me in hir Maiesties priuie chamber, he // Syr <i>R.</i>

<lb>tooke me by the hand, & carying me to à // <i>Sackuiles</i>

<lb>windoe, said, M. <i>Ascham</i>, I would not for à good // communi-

<lb>deale of monie, haue bene, this daie, absent from // cation with <lb>diner. Where, though I said nothing, yet I gaue // the Author <lb>as good eare, and do consider as well the taulke, // of this <lb>that passed, as any one did there. M. Secretarie said very // booke.

<lb>wisely, and most truely, that many yong wittes be driuen to <lb>hate learninge, before they know what learninge is. I can be <lb>good witnes to this my selfe: For à fond Scholemaster, before <lb>I was fullie fourtene yeare olde, draue me so, with feare of <lb>beating, from all loue of learninge, as nowe, when I know, what <lb>difference it is, to haue learninge, and to haue litle, or none at <lb>all, I feele it my greatest greife, and finde it my greatest hurte, <lb>that euer came to me, that it was my so ill chance, to light <lb>vpon so lewde à Scholemaster. But seing it is but in vain, to <lb>lament thinges paste, and also wisdome to looke to thinges to <lb>cum, surely, God willinge, if God lend me life, I will make <lb>this my mishap, some occasion of good hap, to litle <i>Robert <lb>Sackuile</i> my sonnes sonne. For whose bringinge vp, I would <lb>gladlie, if it so please you, vse speciallie your good aduice. I <lb>heare saie, you haue à sonne, moch of his age: we wil deale thus <lb>togither. Point you out à Scholemaster, who by your order, <lb>shall teache my sonne and yours, and for all the rest, I will <lb>prouide, yea though they three do cost me a couple of hundred <lb>poundes by yeare: and beside, you shall finde me as fast à <lb>Frend to you and yours, as perchance any you haue. Which <lb>promise, the worthie Ientleman surelie kept with me, vntill his <lb>dying daye.

<lb> We had than farther taulke togither, of bringing vp of <lb>children: of the nature, of quicke, and hard wittes: // The cheife <lb>of the right choice of à good witte: of Feare, and // pointes of <lb>loue in teachinge children. We passed from // this booke.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>178 <i>A Præface to the Reader.</i>

<lb>

<lb>children and came to yonge men, namely, Ientlemen: we <lb>taulked of their to moch libertie, to liue as they lust: of their <lb>letting louse to sone, to ouer moch experience of ill, contrarie to <lb>the good order of many good olde common welthes of the <lb>Persians and Grekes: of witte gathered, and good fortune <lb>gotten, by some, onely by experience, without learning. And <lb>lastlie, he required of me verie earnestlie, to shewe, what I <lb>thought of the common goinge of Englishe men into Italie.

<lb>But, sayth he, bicause this place, and this tyme, will not suffer <lb>so long taulke, as these good matters require, therefore I pray <lb>you, at my request, and at your leysure, put in some order of <lb>writing, the cheife pointes of this our taulke, concerning the <lb>right order of teachinge, and honestie of liuing, for the good <lb>bringing vp of children & yong men. And surelie, beside <lb>contentinge me, you shall both please and profit verie many <lb>others. I made some excuse by lacke of habilitie, and weakenes <lb>of bodie: well, sayth he, I am not now to learne, what you can <lb>do. Our deare frende, good M. <i>Goodricke</i>, whose iudgement I <lb>could well beleue, did once for all, satisfye me fullie therein.

<lb>Againe, I heard you say, not long agoe, that you may thanke <lb>Syr <i>John Cheke</i>, for all the learninge you haue: And I know <lb>verie well my selfe, that you did teach the Quene. And <lb>therefore seing God did so blesse you, to make you the Scholer <lb>of the best Master, and also the Scholemaster of the best <lb>Scholer, that euer were in our tyme, surelie, you should please <lb>God, benefite your countrie, & honest your owne name, if you <lb>would take the paines, to impart to others, what you learned <lb>of soch à Master, and how ye taught such à scholer. And, in <lb>vttering the stuffe ye receiued of the one, in declaring the <lb>order ye tooke with the other, ye shall neuer lacke, neither <lb>matter, nor maner, what to write, nor how to write in this <lb>kinde of Argument.

<lb> I beginning some farther excuse, sodeinlie was called to <lb>cum to the Queene. The night following, I slept litle, my <lb>head was so full of this our former taulke, and I so mindefull, <lb>somewhat to satisfie the honest request of so deare à frend, <lb>I thought to præpare some litle treatise for a New yeares gift <lb>that Christmas. But, as it chanceth to busie builders, so, in <lb>building thys my poore Scholehouse (the rather bicause the forme <lb>of it is somewhat new, and differing from others) the worke <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>A Præf ace to the Reader.</i> 179

<lb>

<lb>rose dailie higher and wider, than I thought it would at the <lb>beginninge.

<lb> And though it appeare now, and be in verie deede, but a <lb>small cotage, poore for the stuffe, and rude for the workemanship, <lb>yet in going forward, I found the site so good, as I was lothe to <lb>giue it ouer, but the making so costlie, outreaching my habilitie, <lb>as many tymes I wished, that some one of those three, my deare <lb>frendes, with full pursses, Syr <i>Tho. Smithe</i>, M. // {<i>Smith.</i>

<lb><i>Haddon</i>, or M. <i>Watson</i>, had had the doing of it. // M. {<i>Haddon.</i>

<lb>Yet, neuerthelesse, I my selfe, spending gladlie // {<i>Watson.</i>

<lb>that litle, that I gatte at home by good Syr <i>Iohn</i> // Syr<i> I.</i>

<lb><i>Cheke</i>, and that that I borrowed abroad of my // <i>Cheke.</i>

<lb>frend <i>Sturmius</i>, beside somewhat that was left me // <i>I. Sturmius.</i>

<lb>in Reuersion by my olde Masters, <i>Plato, Aristotle</i>, // <i>Plato.</i>

<lb>and <i>Cicero</i>, I haue at last patched it vp, as I could, // <i>Aristotle.</i>

<lb>and as you see. If the matter be meane, and meanly handled, // <i>Cicero.</i>

<lb>I pray you beare, both with me, and it: for neuer worke went <lb>vp in worse wether, with mo lettes and stoppes, than this poore <lb>Scholehouse of mine. Westminster Hall can beare some <lb>witnesse, beside moch weakenes of bodie, but more trouble of <lb>minde, by some such sores, as greue me to toche them my <lb>selfe, and therefore I purpose not to open them to others.

<lb>And, in middes of outward iniuries, and inward cares, to <lb>encrease them withall, good Syr <i>Rich. Sackuile</i>

<lb>dieth, that worthie Ientleman: That earnest // Syr <i>R.</i>

<lb>fauorer and furtherer of Gods true Religion: // <i>Sackuill.</i>

<lb>That faithfull Seruitor to his Prince and Countrie: A louer of <lb>learning, & all learned men: Wise in all doinges: Curtesse to <lb>all persons: shewing spite to none: doing good to many: and as <lb>I well found, to me so fast à frend, as I neuer lost the like <lb>before. Whan he was gone, my hart was dead. There was <lb>not one, that woare à blacke gowne for him, who caried à <lb>heuier hart for him, than I. Whan he was gone, I cast this <lb>booke àwaie: I could not looke vpon it, but with weping eyes, <lb>in remembring him, who was the onelie setter on, to do it, and <lb>would haue bene, not onelie à glad commender of it, but also <lb>à sure and certaine comfort, to me and mine, for it. Almost <lb>two yeares togither, this booke lay scattered, and neglected, <lb>and had bene quite giuen ouer of me, if the goodnesse of one <lb>had not giuen me some life and spirite againe. God, the <lb>

<lb>180 <i>A Præface to the Reader.</i>

<lb>

<lb>mouer of goodnesse, prosper alwaies him & his, as he hath <lb>many times comforted me and mine, and, I trust to God, shall <lb>comfort more and more. Of whom, most iustlie I may saie, <lb>and verie oft, and alwaies gladlie, I am wont to say, that <lb>sweete verse of <i>Sophocles</i>, spoken by <i>Oedipus</i> to worthie <i>Theseus</i>.

<lb>

<lb>Soph. in // echo [gar] acho dia se, kouk allon broton.

<lb>Oed. Col. //

<lb>

<lb>Thys hope hath helped me to end this booke: which, if he <lb>allowe, I shall thinke my labours well imployed, and shall not <lb>moch æsteme the misliking of any others. And I trust, he <lb>shall thinke the better of it, bicause he shall finde the best part <lb>thereof, to cum out of his Schole, whom he, of all men loued <lb>and liked best.

<lb> Yet some men, frendly enough of nature, but of small <lb>iudgement in learninge, do thinke, I take to moch paines, and <lb><i>Plato</i> in // spend to moch time, in settinge forth these <lb>initio // childrens affaires. But those good men were <lb>Theagis. // neuer brought vp in <i>Socrates</i> Schole, who saith <lb>ou gar esti // plainlie, that no man goeth àbout à more godlie <lb>peri otou // purpose, than he that is mindfull of the good <lb>theioterou // bringing vp, both of hys owne, and other mens <lb>anthropos // children.

<lb>an bouleu- //

<lb>saito, e // Therfore, I trust, good and wise men, will <lb>peri pai- // thinke well of this my doing. And of other, that <lb>deias, kai // thinke otherwise, I will thinke my selfe, they are <lb>ton auton, // but men, to be pardoned for their follie, and <lb>kai ton // pitied for their ignoraunce.

<lb>oikeion. //

<lb> In writing this booke, I haue had earnest respecte to three <lb>speciall pointes, trothe of Religion, honestie in liuing, right order <lb>in learning. In which three waies, I praie God, my poore <lb>children may diligently waulke: for whose sake, as nature <lb>moued, and reason required, and necessitie also somewhat <lb>compelled, I was the willinger to take these paines.

<lb> For, seing at my death, I am not like to leaue them any <lb>great store of liuing, therefore in my life time, I thought good <lb>to bequeath vnto them, in this litle booke, as in my Will and <lb>Testament, the right waie to good learning: which if they <lb>followe, with the feare of God, they shall verie well cum to <lb>sufficiencie of liuinge.

<lb> I wishe also, with all my hart, that yong M. <i>Rob. Sackuille</i>, <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>A Præface to the Reader.</i> 181

<lb>

<lb>may take that fructe of this labor, that his worthie Grauntfather <lb>purposed he should haue done: And if any other do take, either <lb>proffet, or pleasure hereby, they haue cause to thanke M.

<lb><i>Robert Sackuille</i>, for whom speciallie this my Scholemaster was <lb>prouided.

<lb> And one thing I would haue the Reader consider in <lb>readinge this booke, that bicause, no Scholemaster hath charge <lb>of any childe, before he enter into hys Schole, therefore I <lb>leauing all former care, of their good bringing vp, to wise and <lb>good Parentes, as à matter not belonging to the Scholemaster, <lb>I do appoynt thys my Scholemaster, than, and there to begin, <lb>where his office and charge beginneth. Which charge lasteth <lb>not long, but vntill the Scholer be made hable to go to the <lb>Vniuersitie, to procede in Logike, Rhetoricke, and other kindes <lb>of learning.

<lb> Yet if my Scholemaster, for loue he beareth to hys <lb>Scholer, shall teach hym somewhat for hys furtherance, <lb>and better iudgement in learning, that may serue

<lb>him seuen yeare after in the Vniuersitie, he

<lb>doth hys Scholer no more wrong, nor de-

<lb>serueth no worse name therby, than he

<lb>doth in London, who sellinge silke

<lb>or cloth vnto his frend, doth

<lb>giue hym better measure,

<lb>than either hys pro-

<lb>mise or bargaine

<lb>was.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Farewell in Christ.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>The first booke for the youth.<i>

<lb>

<lb>AFter the childe hath learned perfitlie the eight partes of <lb>speach, let him then learne the right ioyning togither of <lb>substantiues with adiectiues, the nowne with the verbe, the <lb>relatiue with the antecedent. And in learninge farther hys <lb>Syntaxis, by mine aduice, he shall not vse the common order <lb>in common scholes, for making of latines: wherby, the childe <lb><i>Cic.</i> de // commonlie learneth, first, an euill choice of wordes, <lb>Cla. or. // (and right choice of wordes, saith <i>Cæsar</i>, is the <lb>foundation of eloquence) than, a wrong placing

<lb>of wordes: and lastlie, an ill framing of the sentence, with <lb>a peruerse iudgement, both of wordes and sentences. These <lb>Making of // faultes, taking once roote in yougthe, be neuer, or <lb>Lattines // hardlie, pluckt away in age. Moreouer, there is <lb>marreth // no one thing, that hath more, either dulled the <lb>Children. // wittes, or taken awaye the will of children from <lb>learning, then the care they haue, to satisfie their masters, in <lb>making of latines.

<lb> For, the scholer, is commonlie beat for the making, when <lb>the master were more worthie to be beat for the mending, or <lb>rather, marring of the same: The master many times, being <lb>as ignorant as the childe, what to saie properlie and fitlie to the <lb>matter.

<lb> Two scholemasters haue set forth in print, either of them <lb><i>Horman.</i> // a booke, of soch kinde of latines, <i>Horman</i> and <lb><i>Whitting-</i> // <i>Whittington</i>.

<lb><i>ton.</i> //

<lb> A childe shall learne of the better of them, <lb>that, which an other daie, if he be wise, and cum to iudgement, <lb>he must be faine to vnlearne againe.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>The first booke for the youth.</i> 183

<lb>

<lb> There is a waie, touched in the first booke of <i>Cicero <lb>De Oratore</i>, which, wiselie brought into scholes, // 1. <i>De Or.</i>

<lb>truely taught, and constantly vsed, would not

<lb>onely take wholly away this butcherlie feare in making of <lb>latines, but would also, with ease and pleasure, and in short <lb>time, as I know by good experience, worke a true choice and <lb>placing of wordes, a right ordering of sentences, an easie <lb>vnderstandyng of the tonge, a readines to speake, a facultie to <lb>write, a true iudgement, both of his owne, and other mens <lb>doinges, what tonge so euer he doth vse.

<lb> The waie is this. After the three Concordances learned, <lb>as I touched before, let the master read vnto hym the Epistles <lb>of <i>Cicero</i>, gathered togither and chosen out by <i>Sturmius</i>, for <lb>the capacitie of children.

<lb> First, let him teach the childe, cherefullie and plainlie, the <lb>cause, and matter of the letter: then, let him

<lb>construe it into Englishe, so oft, as the childe may // The order <lb>easilie carie awaie the vnderstanding of it: // of teaching.

<lb>Lastlie, parse it ouer perfitlie. This done thus, let the childe, <lb>by and by, both construe and parse it ouer againe: so, that it <lb>may appeare, that the childe douteth in nothing, that his <lb>master taught him before. After this, the childe must take <lb>a paper booke, and sitting in some place, where no man shall <lb>prompe him, by him self, let him translate into Englishe his <lb>former lesson. Then shewing it to his master,

<lb>let the master take from him his latin booke, and // Two pa-

<lb>pausing an houre, at the least, than let the childe // per bokes.

<lb>translate his owne Englishe into latin againe, in an other paper <lb>booke. When the childe bringeth it, turned into latin, the <lb>master must compare it with <i>Tullies</i> booke, and laie them both <lb>togither: and where the childe doth well, either in chosing, or <lb>true placing of <i>Tullies</i> wordes, let the master // Children <lb>praise him, and saie here ye do well. For I // learne by <lb>assure you, there is no such whetstone, to // prayse.

<lb>sharpen a good witte and encourage a will to learninge, as is <lb>praise.

<lb> But if the childe misse, either in forgetting a worde, or in <lb>chaunging a good with a worse, or misordering the sentence, <lb>I would not haue the master, either froune, or chide with him, <lb>if the childe haue done his diligence, and vsed no trewandship <lb>

<lb>

<lb>184 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>therein. For I know by good experience, that a childe shall <lb>Ientlenes // take more profit of two fautes, ientlie warned of, <lb>in teaching. // then of foure thinges, rightly hitt. For than, the <lb>master shall haue good occasion to saie vnto him.

<lb><i>N. Tullie</i> would haue vsed such a worde, not this: <i>Tullie</i>

<lb>would haue placed this word here, not there: would haue vsed <lb>this case, this number, this person, this degree, this gender: he <lb>would haue vsed this moode, this tens, this simple, rather than <lb>this compound: this aduerbe here, not there: he would haue <lb>ended the sentence with this verbe, not with that nowne or <lb>participle, etc.

<lb> In these fewe lines, I haue wrapped vp, the most tedious <lb>part of Grammer: and also the ground of almost all the Rewles, <lb>that are so busilie taught by the Master, and so hardlie learned <lb>by the Scholer, in all common Scholes: which after this sort, <lb>the master shall teach without all error, and the scholer shall <lb>learne without great paine: the master being led by so sure <lb>a guide, and the scholer being brought into so plaine and easie <lb>a waie. And therefore, we do not contemne Rewles, but we <lb>gladlie teach Rewles: and teach them, more plainlie, sensiblie, <lb>and orderlie, than they be commonlie taught in common <lb>Scholes. For whan the Master shall compare <i>Tullies</i> booke <lb>with his Scholers translation, let the Master, at the first, <lb>lead and teach his Scholer, to ioyne the Rewles of his Grammer <lb>booke, with the examples of his present lesson, vntill the <lb>Scholer, by him selfe, be hable to fetch out of his Grammer, <lb>euerie Rewle, for euerie Example: So, as the Grammer booke <lb>be euer in the Scholers hand, and also vsed of him, as a <lb>Dictionarie, for euerie present vse. This is a liuely and perfite <lb>waie of teaching of Rewles: where the common waie, vsed in <lb>common Scholes, to read the Grammer alone by it selfe, is <lb>tedious for the Master, hard for the Scholer, colde and vn-

<lb>cumfortable for them bothe.

<lb> Let your Scholer be neuer afraide, to aske you any dout, <lb>but vse discretlie the best allurements ye can, to encorage him <lb>to the same: lest, his ouermoch fearinge of you, driue him <lb>to seeke some misorderlie shifte: as, to seeke to be helped <lb>by some other booke, or to be prompted by some other <lb>Scholer, and so goe aboute to begile you moch, and him selfe <lb>more.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 185

<lb>

<lb> With this waie, of good vnderstanding the mater, plaine <lb>construinge, diligent parsinge, dailie translatinge, cherefull <lb>admonishinge, and heedefull amendinge of faultes: neuer <lb>leauinge behinde iuste praise for well doinge, I would haue the <lb>Scholer brought vp withall, till he had red, & translated ouer y<sup>e</sup>

<lb>first booke of Epistles chosen out by <i>Sturmius</i>, with a good <lb>peece of a Comedie of <i>Terence</i> also.

<lb> All this while, by mine aduise, the childe shall vse to speake <lb>no latine: For, as <i>Cicero</i> saith in like mater, with like wordes, <lb><i>loquendo, male loqui discunt</i>. And, that excellent // Latin <lb>learned man, <i>G. Budæus</i>, in his Greeke Com- // speakyng.

<lb>mentaries, sore complaineth, that whan he began // <i>G. Budæus.</i>

<lb>to learne the latin tonge, vse of speaking latin at the table, and <lb>elsewhere, vnaduisedlie, did bring him to soch an euill choice of <lb>wordes, to soch a crooked framing of sentences, that no one <lb>thing did hurt or hinder him more, all the daies of his life <lb>afterward, both for redinesse in speaking, and also good iudge-

<lb>ment in writinge.

<lb> In very deede, if children were brought vp, in soch a house, <lb>or soch a Schole, where the latin tonge were properlie and <lb>perfitlie spoken, as <i>Tib.</i> and <i>Ca. Gracci</i> were brought vp, in <lb>their mother <i>Cornelias</i> house, surelie, than the dailie vse of <lb>speaking, were the best and readiest waie, to learne the latin <lb>tong. But, now, commonlie, in the best Scholes in England, <lb>for wordes, right choice is smallie regarded, true proprietie <lb>whollie neglected, confusion is brought in, barbariousnesse is <lb>bred vp so in yong wittes, as afterward they be, not onelie <lb>marde for speaking, but also corrupted in iudgement: as with <lb>moch adoe, or neuer at all, they be brought to right frame <lb>againe.

<lb> Yet all men couet to haue their children speake latin: and <lb>so do I verie earnestlie too. We bothe, haue one purpose: we <lb>agree in desire, we wish one end: but we differ somewhat in <lb>order and waie, that leadeth rightlie to that end. Other would <lb>haue them speake at all aduentures: and, so they be speakinge, <lb>to speake, the Master careth not, the Scholer knoweth not, <lb>what. This is, to seeme, and not to bee: except it be, to be <lb>bolde without shame, rashe without skill, full of words without <lb>witte. I wish to haue them speake so, as it may well appeare, <lb>that the braine doth gouerne the tonge, and that reason leadeth <lb>

<lb>

<lb>186 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>forth the taulke. <i>Socrates</i> doctrine is true in <i>Plato</i>, and well <lb><i>Plato.</i> // marked, and truely vttered by <i>Horace</i> in <i>Arte</i>

<lb><i>Horat.</i> // <i>Poetica</i>, that, where so euer knowledge doth accom-

<lb>panie the witte, there best vtterance doth alwaies <lb>awaite vpon the tonge: For, good vnderstanding must first be bred <lb>Much wri- // in the childe, which, being nurished with skill, and <lb>tyng bree- // vse of writing (as I will teach more largelie <lb>deth ready // hereafter) is the onelie waie to bring him to <lb>speakyng. // iudgement and readinesse in speakinge: and that <lb>in farre shorter time (if he followe constantlie the trade of this <lb>litle lesson) than he shall do, by common teachinge of the <lb>common scholes in England.

<lb> But, to go forward, as you perceiue, your scholer to goe <lb>better and better on awaie, first, with vnderstanding his lesson <lb>more quicklie, with parsing more readelie, with translating <lb>more spedelie and perfitlie then he was wonte, after, giue him <lb>longer lessons to translate: and withall, begin to teach him, <lb>The second // both in nownes, & verbes, what is <i>Proprium</i>, and <lb>degree and // what is <i>Translatum</i>, what <i>Synonymum</i>, what <lb>order in // <i>Diuersum</i>, which be <i>Contraria</i>, and which be <lb>teachyng. // most notable <i>Phrases</i> in all his lecture.

<lb> As:

<lb> <i>{Rex Sepultus est <lb> Proprium. {magnificè.

<lb>

<lb> {Cum illo principe, <lb> Translatum. {Sepulta est & gloria

<lb> {et Salus Reipublicæ.

<lb>

<lb> Synonyma. {Ensis, Gladius.

<lb> {Laudare, prædicare.

<lb>

<lb> {Diligere, Amare.

<lb> Diuersa. {Calere, Exardescere.

<lb> {Inimicus, Hostis.

<lb>

<lb> {Acerbum & luctuosum <lb> { bellum.

<lb> Contraria. {Dulcis & lœta

<lb> { Pax.

<lb>

<lb> {Dare verba.

<lb> Phrases. {abjicere obedientiam.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 187

<lb>

<lb> Your scholer then, must haue the third paper booke: in <lb>the which, after he hath done his double transla- // The thyrd <lb>tion, let him write, after this sort foure of these // paper boke.

<lb>forenamed sixe, diligentlie marked out of eurie

<lb>lesson.

<lb>

<lb> <i>{Propria.

<lb> {Translata.

<lb> {Synonyma.

<lb> Quatuor. {Diuersa.

<lb> {Contraria.

<lb> {Phrases.</i>

<lb>

<lb>Or else, three, or two, if there be no moe: and if there be <lb>none of these at all in some lecture, yet not omitte the order, <lb>but write these.

<lb>

<lb> <i>{Diuersa nulla.

<lb> {Contraria nulla. etc.</i>

<lb>

<lb> This diligent translating, ioyned with this heedefull <lb>marking, in the foresaid Epistles, and afterwarde in some <lb>plaine Oration of <i>Tullie</i>, as, <i>pro lege Manil: pro Archia Poeta</i>, <lb>or in those three <i>ad C. Cæs</i>: shall worke soch a right choise of <lb>wordes, so streight a framing of sentences, soch a true iudge-

<lb>ment, both to write skilfullie, and speake wittlelie, as wise men <lb>shall both praise, and maruell at.

<lb> If your scholer do misse sometimes, in marking rightlie <lb>these foresaid sixe thinges, chide not hastelie: for that shall, <lb>both dull his witte, and discorage his diligence: // Ientleness <lb>but monish him gentelie: which shall make // in teaching.

<lb>him, both willing to amende, and glad to go

<lb>forward in loue and hope of learning.

<lb> I haue now wished, twise or thrise, this gentle nature, <lb>to be in a Scholemaster: And, that I haue done so, neither by <lb>chance, nor without some reason, I will now // Loue.

<lb>declare at large, why, in mine opinion, loue is // Feare.

<lb>fitter than feare, ientlenes better than beating, to <lb>bring vp a childe rightlie in learninge.

<lb> With the common vse of teaching and beating in common <lb>scholes of England, I will not greatlie contend: // Common <lb>which if I did, it were but a small grammaticall // Scholes.

<lb>controuersie, neither belonging to heresie nor

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>188 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>treason, nor greatly touching God nor the Prince: although in <lb>very deede, in the end, the good or ill bringing vp of children, <lb>doth as much serue to the good or ill seruice, of God, our <lb>Prince, and our whole countrie, as any one thing doth beside.

<lb> I do gladlie agree with all good Scholemasters in these <lb>pointes: to haue children brought to good perfitnes in learning: <lb>to all honestie in maners: to haue all fautes rightlie amended: <lb>to haue euerie vice seuerelie corrected: but for the order and <lb>waie that leadeth rightlie to these pointes, we somewhat differ.

<lb>Sharpe // For commonlie, many scholemasters, some, as <lb>Schole- // I haue seen, moe, as I haue heard tell, be of so <lb>masters. // crooked a nature, as, when they meete with a <lb>hard witted scholer, they rather breake him, than bowe him, <lb>rather marre him, then mend him. For whan the scholemaster <lb>is angrie with some other matter, then will he sonest faul to <lb>beate his scholer: and though he him selfe should be punished <lb>for his folie, yet must he beate some scholer for his pleasure: <lb>though there be no cause for him to do so, nor yet fault in the <lb>scholer to deserue so. These ye will say, be fond scholemasters, <lb>and fewe they be, that be found to be soch. They be fond in <lb>deede, but surelie ouermany soch be found euerie where. But <lb>Nature // this I will say, that euen the wisest of your great <lb>punished. // beaters, do as oft punishe nature, as they do <lb>correcte faultes. Yea, many times, the better

<lb>nature, is sorer punished: For, if one, by quicknes of witte, <lb>take his lesson readelie, an other, by hardnes of witte, taketh it <lb>not so speedelie: the first is alwaies commended, the other is <lb>commonlie punished: whan a wise scholemaster, should rather <lb>discretelie consider the right disposition of both their natures, <lb>and not so moch wey what either of them is able to do now, <lb>Quicke // as what either of them is likelie to do hereafter.

<lb>wittes for // For this I know, not onelie by reading of bookes <lb>learnyng. // in my studie, but also by experience of life, <lb>abrode in the world, that those, which be commonlie the <lb>wisest, the best learned, and best men also, when they be olde, <lb>were neuer commonlie the quickest of witte, when they were <lb>yonge. The causes why, amongst other, which be many, that <lb>moue me thus to thinke, be these fewe, which I will recken.

<lb>Quicke wittes commonlie, be apte to take, vnapte to keepe: <lb>soone hote and desirous of this and that: as colde and sone <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 189

<lb>

<lb>wery of the same againe: more quicke to enter spedelie, than <lb>hable to pearse farre: euen like ouer sharpe tooles, whose edges <lb>be verie soone turned. Soch wittes delite them selues in easie <lb>and pleasant studies, and neuer passe farre forward in hie and <lb>hard sciences. And therefore the quickest wittes commonlie <lb>may proue the best Poetes, but not the wisest Orators: readie <lb>of tonge to speake boldlie, not deepe of iudgement, // Quicke <lb>either for good counsell or wise writing. Also, // wittes, for <lb>for maners and life, quicke wittes commonlie, be, // maners &

<lb>in desire, newfangle, in purpose, vnconstant, light // lyfe.

<lb>to promise any thing, readie to forget euery thing: both benefite <lb>and inurie: and therby neither fast to frend, nor fearefull to foe: <lb>inquisitiue of euery trifle, not secret in greatest affaires: bolde, <lb>with any person: busie, in euery matter: sothing, soch as be <lb>present: nipping any that is absent: of nature also, alwaies, <lb>flattering their betters, enuying their equals, despising their <lb>inferiors: and, by quicknes of witte, verie quicke and readie, to <lb>like none so well as them selues.

<lb> Moreouer commonlie, men, very quicke of witte, be also, <lb>verie light of conditions: and thereby, very readie of disposition, <lb>to be caried ouer quicklie, by any light cumpanie, to any riot <lb>and vnthriftines when they be yonge: and therfore seldome, <lb>either honest of life, or riche in liuing, when they be olde.

<lb>For, quicke in witte, and light in maners, be either seldome <lb>troubled, or verie sone wery, in carying a verie heuie purse.

<lb>Quicke wittes also be, in most part of all their doinges, ouer-

<lb>quicke, hastie, rashe, headie, and brainsicke. These two last <lb>wordes, Headie, and Brainsicke, be fitte and proper wordes, <lb>rising naturallie of the matter, and tearmed aptlie by the <lb>condition of ouer moch quickenes of witte. In yougthe also <lb>they be, readie scoffers, priuie mockers, and euer ouer light and <lb>mery. In aige, sone testie, very waspishe, and alwaies ouer <lb>miserable: and yet fewe of them cum to any great aige, by <lb>reason of their misordered life when they were yong: but <lb>a great deale fewer of them cum to shewe any great counten-

<lb>ance, or beare any great authoritie abrode in the world, but <lb>either liue obscurelie, men know not how, or dye obscurelie, <lb>men marke not whan. They be like trees, that shewe forth, <lb>faire blossoms & broad leaues in spring time, but bring out <lb>small and not long lasting fruite in haruest time: and that <lb>

<lb>

<lb>190 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>onelie soch, as fall, and rotte, before they be ripe, and so, neuer, <lb>or seldome, cum to any good at all. For this ye shall finde <lb>most true by experience, that amongest a number of quicke <lb>wittes in youthe, fewe be found, in the end, either verie <lb>fortunate for them selues, or verie profitable to serue the common <lb>wealth, but decay and vanish, men know not which way: <lb>except a very fewe, to whom peraduenture blood and happie <lb>parentage, may perchance purchace a long standing vpon the <lb>stage. The which felicitie, because it commeth by others <lb>procuring, not by their owne deseruinge, and stand by other <lb>mens feete, and not by their own, what owtward brag so euer <lb>is borne by them, is in deed, of it selfe, and in wise mens eyes, <lb>of no great estimation.

<lb> Some wittes, moderate enough by nature, be many tymes <lb>Som sci- // marde by ouer moch studie and vse of some <lb>ences hurt // sciences, namelie, Musicke, Arithmetick, and <lb>mens wits, // Geometrie. Thies sciences, as they sharpen mens <lb>and mar // wittes ouer moch, so they change mens maners <lb>mens ma- // ouer sore, if they be not moderatlie mingled, &

<lb>ners. //

<lb>wiselie applied to som good vse of life. Marke all Mathe-

<lb>Mathe- // maticall heades, which be onely and wholy bent <lb>maticall // to those sciences, how solitarie they be themselues, <lb>heades. // how vnfit to liue with others, & how vnapte to <lb>serue in the world. This is not onelie knowen now by common <lb>experience, but vttered long before by wise mens Iudgement <lb><i>Galen.</i> // and sentence. <i>Galene</i> saith, moch Musick marreth <lb><i>Plato.</i> // mens maners: and <i>Plato</i> hath a notable place of <lb>the same thing in his bookes <i>de Rep.</i> well marked <lb>also, and excellentlie translated by <i>Tullie</i> himself. Of this <lb>matter, I wrote once more at large, XX. yeare a go, in my booke <lb>of shoting: now I thought but to touch it, to proue, that ouer <lb>moch quicknes of witte, either giuen by nature, or sharpened by <lb>studie, doth not commonlie bring forth, eyther greatest learning, <lb>best maners, or happiest life in the end.

<lb> Contrariewise, a witte in youth, that is not ouer dulle, <lb>Hard wits // heauie, knottie and lumpishe, but hard, rough, and <lb>in learning. // though somwhat staffishe, as <i>Tullie</i> wisheth <i>otium, <lb>quietum, non languidum</i>: and <i>negotium cum labore, <lb>non cum periculo</i>, such a witte I say, if it be, at the first well <lb>handled by the mother, and rightlie smothed and wrought as it <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 191

<lb>

<lb>should, not ouerwhartlie, and against the wood, by the schole-

<lb>master, both for learning, and hole course of liuing, proueth <lb>alwaies the best. In woode and stone, not the softest, but <lb>hardest, be alwaies aptest, for portrature, both fairest for pleasure, <lb>and most durable for proffit. Hard wittes be hard to receiue, <lb>but sure to keepe: painefull without werinesse, hedefull without <lb>wauering, constant without newfanglenes: bearing heauie <lb>thinges, thoughe not lightlie, yet willinglie: entring hard <lb>thinges, though not easelie, yet depelie, and so cum to that <lb>perfitnes of learning in the ende, that quicke wittes, seeme in <lb>hope, but do not in deede, or else verie seldome, // Hard wits <lb>euer attaine vnto. Also, for maners and life, hard // in maners <lb>wittes commonlie, ar hardlie caried, either to // and lyfe.

<lb>desire euerie new thing, or else to meruell at euery strange <lb>thinge: and therfore they be carefull and diligent in their own <lb>matters, not curious and busey in other mens affaires: and so, <lb>they becum wise them selues, and also ar counted honest by <lb>others. They be graue, stedfast, silent of tong, secret of hart.

<lb>Not hastie in making, but constant in keping any promise.

<lb>Not rashe in vttering, but ware in considering euery matter: <lb>and therby, not quicke in speaking, but deepe of iudgement, <lb>whether they write, or giue counsell in all waightie affaires.

<lb>And theis be the men, that becum in the end, both most happie <lb>for themselues, and alwaise best estemed abrode in the world.

<lb> I haue bene longer in describing, the nature, the good or ill <lb>successe, of the quicke and hard witte, than perchance som will <lb>thinke, this place and matter doth require. But // The best <lb>my purpose was hereby, plainlie to vtter, what // wittes dri-

<lb>iniurie is offered to all learninge, & to the common // uen from <lb>welthe also, first, by the fond father in chosing, // learnyng, <lb>but chieflie by the lewd scholemaster in beating // to other li-

<lb>and driuing away the best natures from learning. A childe // uyng.

<lb>that is still, silent, constant, and somewhat hard of witte, is <lb>either neuer chosen by the father to be made a scholer, or else, <lb>when he commeth to the schole, he is smally regarded, little <lb>looked vnto, he lacketh teaching, he lacketh coraging, he lacketh <lb>all thinges, onelie he neuer lacketh beating, nor any word, that <lb>may moue him to hate learninge, nor any deed that may driue <lb>him from learning, to any other kinde of liuing.

<lb> And when this sadde natured, and hard witted child, is bette <lb>

<lb>

<lb>192 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>from his booke, and becummeth after eyther student of <lb>Hard wits // the common lawe, or page in the Court, or <lb>proue best // seruingman, or bound prentice to a merchant, <lb>in euery // or to som handiecrafte, he proueth in the ende, <lb>kynde of // wiser, happier and many tymes honester too, than <lb>life. // many of theis quick wittes do, by their learninge.

<lb> Learning is, both hindred and iniured to, by the ill choice <lb>of them, that send yong scholers to the vniuersities. Of whom <lb>must nedes cum all our Diuines, Lawyers, and Physicions.

<lb> Thies yong scholers be chosen commonlie, as yong apples be <lb>The ill // chosen by children, in a faire garden about <i>S.</i>

<lb>choice of // <i>Iames</i> tyde: a childe will chose a sweeting, because it <lb>wittes for // is presentlie faire and pleasant, and refuse a Runnet, <lb>learnyng. // because it is than grene, hard, and sowre, whan the <lb>one, if it be eaten, doth breed, both wormes and ill humors: <lb>the other if it stand his tyme, be ordered and kepte as it should, is <lb>holsom of it self, and helpeth to the good digestion of other meates: <lb>Sweetinges, will receyue wormes, rotte, and dye on the tree, and <lb>neuer or seldom cum to the gathering for good and lasting store.

<lb> For verie greafe of harte I will not applie the similitude: <lb>but hereby, is plainlie seen, how learning is robbed of hir best <lb>wittes, first by the great beating, and after by the ill chosing <lb>of scholers, to go to the vniuersities. Whereof cummeth <lb>partelie, that lewde and spitefull prouerbe, sounding to the <lb>greate hurte of learning, and shame of learned men, that, the <lb>greatest Clerkes be not the wisest men.

<lb> And though I, in all this discourse, seem plainlie to prefer, <lb>hard and roughe wittes, before quicke and light wittes, both for <lb>learnyng and maners, yet am I not ignorant that som quicknes <lb>of witte, is a singuler gifte of God, and so most rare emonges <lb>men, and namelie such a witte, as is quicke without lightnes, <lb>sharpe without brittlenes, desirous of good thinges without <lb>newfanglenes, diligent in painfull thinges without werisomnes, <lb>and constant in good will to do all thinges well, as I know was <lb>in Syr <i>Iohn Cheke</i>, and is in som, that yet liue, in whome all <lb>theis faire qualities of witte ar fullie mette togither.

<lb> But it is notable and trewe, that <i>Socrates</i> saith in <i>Plato</i> to <lb><i>Plato in</i> // his frende <i>Crito</i>. That, that number of men is <lb><i>Critone</i>. // fewest, which far excede, either in good or ill, in <lb>wisdom of folie, but the meane betwixt both, be

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 193

<lb>

<lb>the greatest number: which he proueth trewe in diuerse other <lb>thinges: as in greyhoundes, emonges which fewe // Verie <lb>are found, exceding greate, or exceding litle, // good, or <lb>exceding swift, or exceding slowe: And therfore/ verie ill <lb>I speaking of quick and hard wittes, I ment, the // men, be <lb>common number of quicke and hard wittes, // fewest in <lb>emonges the which, for the most parte, the hard // number.

<lb>witte, proueth manie times, the better learned, wiser and <lb>honester man: and therfore, do I the more lament, that soch <lb>wittes commonlie be either kepte from learning, by fond fathers, <lb>or bet from learning by lewde scholemasters.

<lb> And speaking thus moche of the wittes of children for <lb>learning, the opportunitie of the place, and good- // Horsemen <lb>nes of the matter might require to haue here // be wiser in <lb>declared the most speciall notes of a good witte for // knowledge <lb>learning in a childe, after the maner and custume // of a good <lb>of a good horsman, who is skilfull, to know, and // Colte, than <lb>hable to tell others, how by certein sure signes, a // scholema-

<lb>man may choise a colte, that is like to proue an // sters be, in <lb>other day, excellent for the saddle. And it is // knowledge <lb>pitie, that commonlie, more care is had, yea and // of a good <lb>that emonges verie wise men, to finde out rather a cunnynge // witte.

<lb>man for their horse, than a cunnyng man for their // A good Ri-

<lb>children. They say nay in worde, but they do so // der better <lb>in deede. For, to the one, they will gladlie giue // rewarded <lb>a stipend of 200. Crounes by yeare, and loth // than a good <lb>to offer to the other, 200. shillinges. God, that // Schole-

<lb>sitteth in heauen laugheth their choice to skorne, // master.

<lb>and rewardeth their liberalitie as it should: for he suffereth <lb>them, to haue, tame, and well ordered horse, but // Horse well <lb>wilde and vnfortunate Children: and therfore in // broken, <lb>the ende they finde more pleasure in their horse, // children ill <lb>than comforte in their children. // taught.

<lb> But concerning the trewe notes of the best wittes for <lb>learning in a childe, I will reporte, not myne own opinion, but <lb>the very iudgement of him, that was counted the best teacher <lb>and wisest man that learning maketh mention of, // <i>Plato</i> in 7.

<lb>and that is <i>Socrates</i> in <i>Plato</i>, who expresseth // de Rep.

<lb>orderlie thies seuen plaine notes to choise a good <lb>witte in a child for learninge.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>194 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb> {1 Euphues.

<lb> {2 Mnemon.

<lb>Trewe {3 Philomathes.

<lb>notes of a {4 Philoponos.

<lb>good witte. {5 Philekoos.

<lb> {6 Zetetikos.

<lb> {7 Philepainos.

<lb>

<lb> And bicause I write English, and to Englishemen, I will <lb>plainlie declare in Englishe both, what thies wordes of <i>Plato</i>

<lb>meane, and how aptlie they be linked, and how orderlie they <lb>folow one an other.

<lb>

<lb>1. Euphues.

<lb>

<lb> Is he, that is apte by goodnes of witte, and appliable by <lb>Witte. // readines of will, to learning, hauing all other <lb>Will. // qualities of the minde and partes of the bodie, <lb>that must an other day serue learning, not trobled, <lb>mangled, and halfed, but sounde, whole, full, & hable to do their <lb>The tong. // office: as, a tong, not stamering, or ouer hardlie <lb>drawing forth wordes, but plaine, and redie to

<lb>The voice. // deliuer the meaning of the minde: a voice, not <lb>softe, weake, piping, wommanishe, but audible,

<lb>Face. // stronge, and manlike: a countenance, not werishe <lb>Stature. // and crabbed, but faire and cumlie: a personage, <lb>not wretched and deformed, but taule and goodlie

<lb>Learnyng // for surelie, a cumlie countenance, with a goodlie <lb>ioyned // stature, geueth credit to learning, and authoritie <lb>with a cum- // to the person: otherwise commonlie, either, open <lb>lie perso- // contempte, or priuie disfauour doth hurte, or <lb>nage. // hinder, both person and learning. And, euen as <lb>a faire stone requireth to be sette in the finest gold, with the <lb>best workmanshyp, or else it leseth moch of the Grace and <lb>price, euen so, excellencye in learning, and namely Diuinitie, <lb>ioyned with a cumlie personage, is a meruelous Iewell in the <lb>world. And how can a cumlie bodie be better employed, <lb>than to serue the fairest exercise of Goddes greatest gifte, <lb>and that is learning. But commonlie, the fairest bodies, <lb>ar bestowed on the foulest purposes. I would it were not so: <lb>and with examples herein I will not medle: yet I wishe, that <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 195

<lb>

<lb>those shold, both mynde it, & medle with it, which haue most <lb>occasion to looke to it, as good and wise fathers shold do, and <lb>greatest authoritie to amend it, as good & wise magistrates <lb>ought to do: And yet I will not let, openlie to lament the <lb>vnfortunate case of learning herein.

<lb> For, if a father haue foure sonnes, three faire and well <lb>formed both mynde and bodie, the fourth, // Deformed <lb>wretched, lame, and deformed, his choice shalbe, // creatures <lb>to put the worst to learning, as one good enoughe // commonlie <lb>to becum a scholer. I haue spent the most parte // set to lear-

<lb>of my life in the Vniuersitie, and therfore I can // nyng.

<lb>beare good witnes that many fathers commonlie do thus: wherof, <lb>I haue hard many wise, learned, and as good men as euer I knew, <lb>make great, and oft complainte: a good horseman will choise <lb>no soch colte, neither for his own, nor yet for his masters sadle.

<lb>And thus moch of the first note.

<lb>

<lb>2 Mnemon.

<lb>

<lb> Good of memorie, a speciall parte of the first note euphues, <lb>and a mere benefite of nature: yet it is so // Memorie.

<lb>necessarie for learning, as <i>Plato</i> maketh it a <lb>separate and perfite note of it selfe, and that so principall a note, <lb>as without it, all other giftes of nature do small seruice to <lb>learning. <i>Afranius</i>, that olde Latine Poete maketh // <i>Aul. Gel.</i>

<lb>Memorie the mother of learning and wisedome,

<lb>saying thus.

<lb> <i>Vsus me genuit, Mater peperit memoria</i>, and though it be the <lb>mere gifte of nature, yet is memorie well preserued by vse, and <lb>moch encreased by order, as our scholer must // Three sure <lb>learne an other day in the Vniuersitie: but in // signs of a <lb>a childe, a good memorie is well known, by three // good me-

<lb>properties: that is, if it be, quicke in receyuing, // morie.

<lb>sure in keping, and redie in deliuering forthe againe.

<lb>

<lb>3 Philomathes.

<lb>

<lb> Giuen to loue learning: for though a child haue all the <lb>giftes of nature at wishe, and perfection of memorie at wil, yet <lb>if he haue not a speciall loue to learning, he shall neuer attaine <lb>to moch learning. And therfore <i>Isocrates</i>, one of the noblest <lb>

<lb>

<lb>196 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>scholemasters, that is in memorie of learning, who taught <lb>Kinges and Princes, as <i>Halicarnassæus</i> writeth, and out of <lb>whose schole, as <i>Tullie</i> saith, came forth, mo noble Capitanes, <lb>mo wise Councelors, than did out of <i>Epeius</i> horse at <i>Troie</i>.

<lb>This <i>Isocrates</i>, I say, did cause to be written, at the entrie of his <lb>schole, in golden letters, this golden sentence, ean es philomathes, <lb>ese polymathes which excellentlie said in <i>Greeke</i>, is thus rudelie <lb>in Englishe, if thou louest learning, thou shalt attayne to moch <lb>learning.

<lb>

<lb>4. Philoponos.

<lb>

<lb> Is he, that hath a lust to labor, and a will to take paines.

<lb>For, if a childe haue all the benefites of nature, with perfection <lb>of memorie, loue, like, & praise learning neuer so moch, yet <lb>if he be not of him selfe painfull, he shall neuer attayne vnto it.

<lb>And yet where loue is present, labor is seldom absent, and <lb>namelie in studie of learning, and matters of the mynde: and <lb>therfore did <i>Isocrates</i> rightlie iudge, that if his scholer were <lb>philomathes he cared for no more. <i>Aristotle</i>, variing from <lb><i>Isocrates</i> in priuate affaires of life, but agreing with <i>Isocrates</i> in <lb>common iudgement of learning, for loue and labor in learning, <lb>is of the same opinion, vttered in these wordes, in his Rhetorike <lb>2 Rhet. ad // <i>ad Theodecten</i>. Libertie kindleth loue: Loue <lb>Theod. // refuseth no labor: and labor obteyneth what so <lb>euer it seeketh. And yet neuerthelesse, Goodnes

<lb>of nature may do little good: Perfection of memorie, may <lb>serue to small vse: All loue may be employed in vayne: Any <lb>labor may be sone graualed, if a man trust alwaies to his own <lb>singuler witte, and will not be glad somtyme to heare, take <lb>aduise, and learne of an other: And therfore doth <i>Socrates</i>

<lb>very notablie adde the fifte note.

<lb>

<lb>5. Philekoos.

<lb>

<lb> He, that is glad to heare and learne of an other. For <lb>otherwise, he shall sticke with great troble, where he might <lb>go easelie forwarde: and also catche hardlie a verie litle by his <lb>owne toyle, whan he might gather quicklie a good deale, by an <lb>nothers mans teaching. But now there be some, that haue <lb>great loue to learning, good lust to labor, be willing to learne of <lb>others, yet, either of a fonde shamefastnes, or else of a proud <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 197

<lb>

<lb>folie, they dare not, or will not, go to learne of an nother: And <lb>therfore doth <i>Socrates</i> wiselie adde the sixte note of a good witte <lb>in a childe for learning, and that is.

<lb>

<lb>6. Zetetikos.

<lb>

<lb> He, that is naturallie bold to aske any question, desirous to <lb>searche out any doute, not ashamed to learne of the meanest, <lb>not affraide to go to the greatest, vntill he be perfitelie taught, <lb>and fullie satisfiede. The seuenth and last poynte is.

<lb>

<lb>7. Philepainos.

<lb>

<lb> He, that loueth to be praised for well doing, at his father, <lb>or masters hand. A childe of this nature, will earnestlie loue <lb>learnyng, gladlie labor for learning, willinglie learne of other, <lb>boldlie aske any doute. And thus, by <i>Socrates</i> iudgement, a <lb>good father, and a wise scholemaster, shold chose a childe to <lb>make a scholer of, that hath by nature, the foresayd perfite <lb>qualities, and cumlie furniture, both of mynde and bodie: hath <lb>memorie, quicke to receyue, sure to keape, and readie to deliuer: <lb>hath loue to learning: hath lust to labor: hath desire to learne <lb>of others: hath boldnes to aske any question: hath mynde holie <lb>bent, to wynne praise by well doing.

<lb> The two firste poyntes be speciall benefites of nature: <lb>which neuerthelesse, be well preserued, and moch encreased by <lb>good order. But as for the fiue laste, loue, labor, gladnes to <lb>learne of others, boldnes to aske doutes, and will to wynne <lb>praise, be wonne and maintened by the onelie wisedome and <lb>discretion of the scholemaster. Which fiue poyntes, whether a <lb>scholemaster shall worke soner in a childe, by fearefull beating, <lb>or curtese handling, you that be wise, iudge.

<lb> Yet some men, wise in deede, but in this matter, more by <lb>seueritie of nature, than any wisdome at all, do laugh at vs, when <lb>we thus wishe and reason, that yong children should rather be <lb>allured to learning by ientilnes and loue, than compelled to <lb>learning, by beating and feare: They say, our reasons serue <lb>onelie to breede forth talke, and passe a waie tyme, but we <lb>neuer saw good scholemaster do so, nor neuer red of wise man <lb>that thought so.

<lb> Yes forsothe: as wise as they be, either in other mens <lb>opinion, or in their owne conceite, I will bring the contrarie <lb>

<lb>

<lb>198 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>iudgement of him, who, they them selues shall confesse, was as <lb>wise as they are, or else they may be iustlie thought to haue <lb>small witte at all: and that is <i>Socrates</i>, whose iudgement in <lb><i>Plato</i> in 7. // <i>Plato</i> is plainlie this in these wordes: which, <lb>de Rep. // bicause they be verie notable, I will recite them <lb>in his owne tong, ouden mathema meta douleias

<lb>chre manthanein: oi men gar tou somatos ponoi bia ponoumenoi <lb>cheiron ouden to soma apergazontai; psyche de, biaion ouden <lb>emmonon mathema: in Englishe thus, No learning ought to be <lb>learned with bondage: For bodelie labors, wrought by compul-

<lb>sion, hurt not the bodie: but any learning learned by compulsion, <lb>tarieth not long in the mynde: And why? For what soeuer the <lb>mynde doth learne vnwillinglie with feare, the same it doth <lb>quicklie forget without care. And lest proude wittes, that loue <lb>not to be contraryed, but haue lust to wrangle or trifle away <lb>troth, will say, that <i>Socrates</i> meaneth not this of childrens <lb>teaching, but of som other higher learnyng, heare, what <lb><i>Socrates</i> in the same place doth more plainlie say: me toinyn <lb>bia, o ariste, tous paidas en tois mathemasin, alla <lb>paizontas trephe, that is to say, and therfore, my deare frend, <lb>bring not vp your children in learning by compulsion and feare, <lb>but by playing and pleasure. And you, that do read <i>Plato</i>, as <lb>The right // ye shold, do well perceiue, that these be no <lb>readyng of // Questions asked by <i>Socrates</i>, as doutes, but they <lb><i>Plato</i>. // be Sentences, first affirmed by <i>Socrates</i>, as mere <lb>trothes, and after, giuen forth by <i>Socrates</i>, as right Rules, most <lb>necessarie to be marked, and fitte to be folowed of all them, <lb>that would haue children taughte, as they should. And in this <lb>counsell, iudgement, and authoritie of <i>Socrates</i> I will repose <lb>my selfe, vntill I meete with a man of the contrarie mynde, <lb>whom I may iustlie take to be wiser, than I thinke <i>Socrates</i>

<lb>Yong Ien- // was. Fonde scholemasters, neither can vnder-

<lb>tlemen, be // stand, nor will folow this good counsell of <i>Socrates</i>, <lb>wiselier // but wise ryders, in their office, can and will do <lb>taught to // both: which is the onelie cause, that commonly, <lb>ryde, by com- // the yong ientlemen of England, go so vnwillinglie <lb>mon ry- // to schole, and run so fast to the stable: For in <lb>ders, than // verie deede fond scholemasters, by feare, do <lb>to learne, // beate into them, the hatred of learning, and wise <lb>by common // riders, by ientle allurements, do breed vp in <lb>Schole- //

<lb>masters. //

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 199

<lb>

<lb>them, the loue of riding. They finde feare, & bondage in <lb>scholes, They feele libertie and freedome in stables: which <lb>causeth them, vtterlie to abhore the one, and most gladlie to <lb>haunt the other. And I do not write this, that in exhorting to <lb>the one, I would dissuade yong ientlemen from the other: yea <lb>I am sorie, with all my harte, that they be giuen no more to <lb>riding, then they be: For, of all outward qualities, // Ryding.

<lb>to ride faire, is most cumelie for him selfe, most <lb>necessarie for his contrey, and the greater he is in blood, the <lb>greater is his praise, the more he doth excede all other therein.

<lb>It was one of the three excellent praises, amongest the noble <lb>ientlemen the old <i>Percians</i>, Alwaise to say troth, to ride faire, <lb>and shote well: and so it was engrauen vpon <i>Darius</i> tumbe, as <lb><i>Strabo</i> beareth witnesse. // Strabo. 15.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Darius the king, lieth buried here,

<lb> Who in riding and shoting had neuer peare.</i>

<lb>

<lb> But, to our purpose, yong men, by any meanes, leesing the <lb>loue of learning, whan by tyme they cum to their owne rule, <lb>they carie commonlie, from the schole with them, a perpetuall <lb>hatred of their master, and a continuall contempt of learning.

<lb>If ten Ientlemen be asked, why they forget so sone in Court, <lb>that which they were learning so long in schole, eight of them, <lb>or let me be blamed, will laie the fault on their ill handling, by <lb>their scholemasters.

<lb> <i>Cuspinian</i> doth report, that, that noble Emperor <i>Maxi-

<lb>milian</i>, would lament verie oft, his misfortune herein.

<lb> Yet, some will say, that children of nature, loue pastime, <lb>and mislike learning: bicause, in their kinde, the // Pastime.

<lb>one is easie and pleasant, the other hard and

<lb>werisom: which is an opinion not so trewe, as // Learnyng.

<lb>some men weene: For, the matter lieth not so much in the <lb>disposition of them that be yong, as in the order & maner of <lb>bringing vp, by them that be old, nor yet in the difference of <lb>learnyng and pastime. For, beate a child, if he daunce not well, <lb>& cherish him, though he learne not well, ye shall haue him, <lb>vnwilling to go to daunce, & glad to go to his booke. Knocke <lb>him alwaies, when he draweth his shaft ill, and fauor him <lb>againe, though he faut at his booke, ye shall haue hym verie <lb>loth to be in the field, and verie willing to be in the schole.

<lb>

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<lb>200 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>Yea, I saie more, and not of my selfe, but by the iudgement of <lb>those, from whom few wisemen will gladlie dissent, that if euer <lb>the nature of man be giuen at any tyme, more than other, to <lb>receiue goodnes, it is in innocencie of yong yeares, before, that <lb>experience of euill, haue taken roote in hym. For, the pure <lb>cleane witte of a sweete yong babe, is like the newest wax, <lb>most hable to receiue the best and fayrest printing: and like a <lb>new bright siluer dishe neuer occupied, to receiue and kepe <lb>cleane, anie good thyng that is put into it.

<lb> And thus, will in children, wiselie wrought withall, maie <lb>Will. } | // easelie be won to be verie well willing to <lb> }in Children.| // learne. And witte in children, by nature, <lb>Witte.} | // namelie memorie, the onelie keie and keper of <lb>all learning, is readiest to receiue, and surest to kepe anie maner <lb>of thing, that is learned in yougth: This, lewde and learned, by <lb>common experience, know to be most trewe. For we remember <lb>nothyng so well when we be olde, as those things which we <lb>learned when we were yong: And this is not straunge, but <lb>Yong yeares // common in all natures workes. Euery man sees, <lb>aptest for // (as I sayd before) new wax is best for printyng: <lb>learnyng. // new claie, fittest for working: new shorne woll, <lb>aptest for sone and surest dying: new fresh flesh, for good and <lb>durable salting. And this similitude is not rude, nor borowed <lb>of the larder house, but out of his scholehouse, of whom, the <lb>wisest of England, neede not be ashamed to learne. Yong <lb>Graftes grow not onelie sonest, but also fairest, and bring alwayes <lb>forth the best and sweetest frute: yong whelpes learne easelie <lb>to carie: yong Popingeis learne quicklie to speake: And so, to <lb>be short, if in all other thinges, though they lacke reason, sens, <lb>and life, the similitude of youth is fittest to all goodnesse, <lb>surelie nature, in mankinde, is most beneficiall and effectuall in <lb>this behalfe.

<lb> Therfore, if to the goodnes of nature, be ioyned the <lb>wisedome of the teacher, in leading yong wittes into a right and <lb>plaine waie of learnyng, surelie, children, kept vp in Gods feare, <lb>and gouerned by his grace, maie most easelie be brought well to <lb>serue God and contrey both by vertue and wisedome.

<lb> But if will, and witte, by farder age, be once allured from <lb>innocencie, delited in vaine sightes, filed with foull taulke, <lb>crooked with wilfulnesse, hardned with stubburnesse, and let <lb>

<lb>

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<lb>

<lb>louse to disobedience, surelie it is hard with ientlenesse, but <lb>vnpossible with seuere crueltie, to call them backe to good <lb>frame againe. For, where the one, perchance maie bend it, <lb>the other shall surelie breake it: and so in stead of some hope, <lb>leaue an assured desperation, and shamelesse con- // <i>Xen.</i> 1. <i>Cy-</i>

<lb>tempt of all goodnesse, the fardest pointe in all // <i>ri Pæd.</i>

<lb>mischief, as <i>Xenophon</i> doth most trewlie and most <lb>wittelie marke.

<lb> Therfore, to loue or to hate, to like or contemne, to plie <lb>this waie or that waie to good or to bad, ye shall haue as ye vse <lb>a child in his youth.

<lb> And one example, whether loue or feare doth worke more <lb>in a child, for vertue and learning, I will gladlie report: which <lb>maie be hard with some pleasure, and folowed with more profit.

<lb>Before I went into <i>Germanie</i>, I came to Brodegate in Leceter-

<lb>shire, to take my leaue of that noble Ladie <i>Iane <lb>Grey</i>, to whom I was exceding moch beholdinge. // <i>Lady Iane</i>

<lb>Hir parentes, the Duke and Duches, with all the // <i>Grey.</i>

<lb>houshould, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, were huntinge in the <lb>Parke: I founde her, in her Chamber, readinge <i>Phædon Platonis</i>

<lb>in Greeke, and that with as moch delite, as som ientleman wold <lb>read a merie tale in <i>Bocase</i>. After salutation, and dewtie done, <lb>with som other taulke, I asked hir, whie she wold leese soch <lb>pastime in the Parke? smiling she answered me: I wisse, all <lb>their sporte in the Parke is but a shadoe to that pleasure, that I <lb>find in <i>Plato</i>: Alas good folke, they neuer felt, what trewe <lb>pleasure ment. And howe came you Madame, quoth I, to this <lb>deepe knowledge of pleasure, and what did chieflie allure you <lb>vnto it: seinge, not many women, but verie fewe men haue <lb>atteined thereunto. I will tell you, quoth she, and tell you <lb>a troth, which perchance ye will meruell at. One of the <lb>greatest benefites, that euer God gaue me, is, that he sent me <lb>so sharpe and seuere Parentes, and so ientle a scholemaster.

<lb>For when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether <lb>I speake, kepe silence, sit, stand, or go, eate, drinke, be merie, <lb>or sad, be sowyng, plaiyng, dauncing, or doing anie thing els, <lb>I must do it, as it were, in soch weight, mesure, and number, <lb>euen so perfitelie, as God made the world, or else I am so <lb>sharplie taunted, so cruellie threatened, yea presentlie some <lb>tymes, with pinches, nippes, and bobbes, and other waies, which <lb>

<lb>

<lb>202 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>I will not name, for the honor I beare them, so without <lb>measure misordered, that I thinke my selfe in hell, till tyme <lb>cum, that I must go to <i>M. Elmer</i>, who teacheth me so ientlie, <lb>so pleasantlie, with soch faire allurementes to learning, that I <lb>thinke all the tyme nothing, whiles I am with him. And <lb>when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because, what <lb>soeuer I do els, but learning, is ful of grief, trouble, feare, and <lb>whole misliking vnto me: And thus my booke, hath bene so <lb>moch my pleasure, & bringeth dayly to me more pleasure &

<lb>more, that in respect of it, all other pleasures, in very deede, be <lb>but trifles and troubles vnto me. I remember this talke gladly, <lb>both bicause it is so worthy of memorie, & bicause also, it was <lb>the last talke that euer I had, and the last tyme, that euer I <lb>saw that noble and worthie Ladie.

<lb> I could be ouer long, both in shewinge iust causes, and in <lb>recitinge trewe examples, why learning shold be taught, rather <lb>by loue than feare. He that wold see a perfite discourse of it, <lb><i>Sturmius</i> // let him read that learned treatese, which my frende <lb>de Inst. // <i>Ioan. Sturmius</i> wrote <i>de institutione Principis</i>, to <lb>Princ. // the Duke of <i>Cleues</i>.

<lb> The godlie counsels of <i>Salomon</i> and <i>Iesus</i> the sonne of <lb>Qui par- // <i>Sirach</i>, for sharpe kepinge in, and bridleinge of <lb>cit virgæ, // youth, are ment rather, for fatherlie correction, <lb>odit filium. // then masterlie beating, rather for maners, than for <lb>learninge: for other places, than for scholes. For God forbid, <lb>but all euill touches, wantonnes, lyinge, pickinge, slouthe, will, <lb>stubburnnesse, and disobedience, shold be with sharpe chastise-

<lb>ment, daily cut away.

<lb> This discipline was well knowen, and diligentlie vsed, <lb>among the <i>Græcians</i>, and old <i>Romanes</i>, as doth appeare in <lb><i>Aristophanes, Isocrates</i>, and <i>Plato</i>, and also in the Comedies of <lb><i>Plautus</i>: where we see that children were vnder the rule of <lb>three persones: <i>Præceptore, Pædagogo, Parente</i>: the scholemaster <lb>1. Schole- // taught him learnyng with all ientlenes: the <lb> master. // Gouernour corrected his maners, with moch <lb>2. Gouer- // sharpenesse: The father, held the sterne of his <lb> nour. // whole obedience: And so, he that vsed to teache, <lb>3. Father. // did not commonlie vse to beate, but remitted that <lb>ouer to an other mans charge. But what shall we saie, whan <lb>now in our dayes, the scholemaster is vsed, both for <i>Præceptor</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 203

<lb>

<lb>in learnyng, and <i>Pædagogus</i> in maners. Surelie, I wold he <lb>shold not confound their offices, but discretelie vse the dewtie <lb>of both so, that neither ill touches shold be left vnpunished, nor <lb>ientlesse in teaching anie wise omitted. And he shall well do <lb>both, if wiselie he do appointe diuersitie of tyme, & separate <lb>place, for either purpose: vsing alwaise soch discrete modera-

<lb>tion as the scholehouse should be counted a

<lb>sanctuarie against feare: and verie well learning, a // The schole <lb>common perdon for ill doing, if the fault, of it // house.

<lb>selfe be not ouer heinous.

<lb> And thus the children, kept vp in Gods feare, and preserued <lb>by his grace, finding paine in ill doing, and pleasure in well <lb>studiyng, shold easelie be brought to honestie of life, and <lb>perfitenes of learning, the onelie marke, that good and wise <lb>fathers do wishe and labour, that their children, shold most <lb>buselie, and carefullie shot at.

<lb> There is an other discommoditie, besides crueltie in schole-

<lb>masters in beating away the loue of learning from // Youth of <lb>children, which hindreth learning and vertue, and // England <lb>good bringing vp of youth, and namelie yong // brought vp <lb>ientlemen, verie moch in England. This fault // with to <lb>is cleane contrary to the first. I wished before, // much li-

<lb>to haue loue of learning bred vp in children: // bertie.

<lb>I wishe as moch now, to haue yong men brought vp in good <lb>order of liuing, and in some more seuere discipline, then <lb>commonlie they be. We haue lacke in England of soch good <lb>order, as the old noble <i>Persians</i> so carefullie vsed: // <i>Xen.</i> 7.

<lb>whose children, to the age of xxi. yeare, were // <i>Cyri Ped.</i>

<lb>brought vp in learnyng, and exercises of labor,

<lb>and that in soch place, where they should, neither see that was <lb>vncumlie, nor heare that was vnhonest. Yea, a yong ientleman <lb>was neuer free, to go where he would, and do what he liste him <lb>self, but vnder the kepe, and by the counsell, of some graue <lb>gouernour, vntill he was, either maryed, or cald to beare some <lb>office in the common wealth.

<lb> And see the great obedience, that was vsed in old tyme to <lb>fathers and gouernours. No sonne, were he neuer so old of <lb>yeares, neuer so great of birth, though he were a kynges sonne, <lb>might not mary, but by his father and mothers also consent.

<lb><i>Cyrus</i> the great, after he had conquered <i>Babylon</i>, and subdewed <lb>

<lb>

<lb>204 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>Riche king <i>Crœsus</i> with whole <i>Asia minor</i>, cummyng tryumph-

<lb>antlie home, his vncle <i>Cyaxeris</i> offered him his daughter to <lb>wife. <i>Cyrus</i> thanked his vncle, and praised the maide, but for <lb>mariage he answered him with thies wise and sweete wordes, as <lb><i>Xen.</i> 8. <i>Cy-</i> // they be vttered by <i>Xenophon</i>, o kuazare, to <lb><i>ri. Pæd.</i> // te genos epaino, kai ten paida, kai dora <lb>boulomai de, ephe, syn te tou patros gnome

<lb>kai [te] tes metros tauta soi synainesai, &c., that is to say: <lb>Vncle <i>Cyaxeris</i>, I commend the stocke, I like the maide, and <lb>I allow well the dowrie, but (sayth he) by the counsell and <lb>consent of my father and mother, I will determine farther of <lb>thies matters.

<lb> Strong <i>Samson</i> also in Scripture saw a maide that liked him, <lb>but he spake not to hir, but went home to his father, and his <lb>mother, and desired both father and mother to make the <lb>mariage for him. Doth this modestie, doth this obedience, <lb>that was in great kyng <i>Cyrus</i>, and stoute <i>Samson</i>, remaine in <lb>our yongmen at this daie? no surelie: For we liue not <lb>longer after them by tyme, than we liue farre different from <lb>them by good order. Our tyme is so farre from that old <lb>discipline and obedience, as now, not onelie yong ientlemen, but <lb>euen verie girles dare without all feare, though not without <lb>open shame, where they list, and how they list, marie them <lb>selues in spite of father, mother, God, good order, and all.

<lb>The cause of this euill is, that youth is least looked vnto, when <lb>they stand [in] most neede of good kepe and regard. It auail-

<lb>eth not, to see them well taught in yong yeares, and after whan <lb>they cum to lust and youthfull dayes, to giue them licence to <lb>liue as they lust them selues. For, if ye suffer the eye of a <lb>yong Ientleman, once to be entangled with vaine sightes, and <lb>the eare to be corrupted with fond or filthie taulke, the mynde <lb>shall quicklie fall seick, and sone vomet and cast vp, all the <lb>holesome doctrine, that he receiued in childhoode, though he <lb>were neuer so well brought vp before. And being ons inglutted <lb>with vanitie, he will streight way loth all learning, and all good <lb>counsell to the same. And the parents for all their great cost <lb>Great mens // and charge, reape onelie in the end, the frute <lb>sonnes // of grief and care.

<lb>worst // This euill, is not common to poore men, as God <lb>brought // will haue it, but proper to riche and great mens <lb>vp. //

<lb>

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<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 205

<lb>

<lb>children, as they deserue it. In deede from seuen, to seuentene, <lb>yong ientlemen commonlie be carefullie enough brought vp: But <lb>from seuentene to seuen and twentie (the most dangerous tyme of <lb>all a mans life, and most slipperie to stay well in) they haue <lb>commonlie the reigne of all licens in their owne // Wise men <lb>hand, and speciallie soch as do liue in the Court. // fond fa-

<lb>And that which is most to be merueled at, // thers.

<lb>commonlie, the wisest and also best men, be found the fondest <lb>fathers in this behalfe. And if som good father would seick <lb>some remedie herein, yet the mother (if the house hold of our <lb>Lady) had rather, yea, & will to, haue her sonne cunnyng &

<lb>bold, in making him to lyue trimlie when he is yong, than by <lb>learning and trauell, to be able to serue his Prince and his <lb>contrie, both wiselie in peace, and stoutelie in warre, whan he <lb>is old.

<lb> The fault is in your selues, ye noble mens sonnes, and <lb>therefore ye deserue the greater blame, that // Meane <lb>commonlie, the meaner mens children, cum to // mens sonnes <lb>be, the wisest councellours, and greatest doers, // come to <lb>in the weightie affaires of this Realme. And // great au-

<lb>why? for God will haue it so, of his prouidence: // thoritie.

<lb>bicause ye will haue it no otherwise, by your negligence.

<lb> And God is a good God, & wisest in all his doinges, that <lb>will place vertue, & displace vice, in those // Nobilitie <lb>kingdomes, where he doth gouerne. For he // without <lb>knoweth, that Nobilitie, without vertue and // wisedome.

<lb>wisedome, is bloud in deede, but bloud trewelie, without bones <lb>& sinewes: & so of it selfe, without the other, verie weeke to <lb>beare the burden of weightie affaires.

<lb> The greatest shippe in deede commonlie carieth the greatest <lb>burden, but yet alwayes with the greatest ieoperdie, not onelie <lb>for the persons and goodes committed vnto it, // Nobilitie <lb>but euen for the shyppe it selfe, except it be // with wise-

<lb>gouerned, with the greater wisdome. // dome.

<lb> But Nobilitie, gouerned by learning and wisedome, is <lb>in deede, most like a faire shippe, // | { Wisedom.

<lb>hauyng tide and winde at will, vnder // | {

<lb>the reule of a skilfull master: whan // | Nobilite with-{

<lb>contrarie wise, a shippe, caried, yea // | { Out wise-

<lb>with the hiest tide & greatest winde, // | { dome.

<lb>

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<lb>206 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>lacking a skilfull master, most commonlie, doth either, sinck it <lb>selfe vpon sandes, or breake it selfe vpon rockes. And euen so, <lb>Vaine plea- // how manie haue bene, either drowned in vaine <lb>sure, and // pleasure, or ouerwhelmed by stout wilfulnesse, <lb>stoute wil- // the histories of England be able to affourde ouer <lb>fulnes, two // many examples vnto vs. Therfore, ye great and <lb>greatest // noble mens children, if ye will haue rightfullie <lb>enemies to // that praise, and enioie surelie that place, which <lb>Nobilitie. // your fathers haue, and elders had, and left vnto <lb>you, ye must kepe it, as they gat it, and that is, by the onelie <lb>waie, of vertue, wisedome, and worthinesse.

<lb> For wisedom, and vertue, there be manie faire examples in <lb>this Court, for yong Ientlemen to folow. But they be, like <lb>faire markes in the feild, out of a mans reach, to far of, to shote <lb>at well. The best and worthiest men, in deede, be somtimes <lb>seen, but seldom taulked withall: A yong Ientleman, may <lb>somtime knele to their person, smallie vse their companie, for <lb>their better instruction.

<lb> But yong Ientlemen ar faïne commonlie to do in the Court, <lb>as yong Archers do in the feild: that is take soch markes, as be <lb>Ill compa- // nie them, although they be neuer so foule to <lb>nie marreth // shote at. I meene, they be driuen to kepe <lb>youth. // companie with the worste: and what force ill <lb>companie hath, to corrupt good wittes, the wisest men know <lb>best.

<lb> And not ill companie onelie, but the ill opinion also of the <lb>The Court // most part, doth moch harme, and namelie of <lb>iudgeth // those, which shold be wise in the trewe de-

<lb>worst of the // cyphring, of the good disposition of nature, of <lb>best natures // cumlinesse in Courtlie maners, and all right <lb>in youth. // doinges of men.

<lb> But error and phantasie, do commonlie occupie, the place <lb>of troth and iudgement. For, if a yong ientleman, be demeure <lb>and still of nature, they say, he is simple and lacketh witte: if <lb>he be bashefull, and will soone blushe, they call him a babishe <lb><i>Xen. in</i> 1. // and ill brought vp thyng, when <i>Xenophon</i> doth <lb><i>Cyr. Pæd.</i> // preciselie note in <i>Cyrus</i>, that his bashfulnes in <lb>youth, was y<sup>e</sup> verie trewe signe of his vertue &

<lb>The Grace // stoutnes after: If he be innocent and ignorant of <lb>in Courte. // ill, they say, he is rude, and hath no grace, so <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 207

<lb>

<lb>vngraciouslie do som gracelesse men, misuse the faire and <lb>godlie word GRACE.

<lb> But if ye would know, what grace they meene, go, and <lb>looke, and learn emonges them, and ye shall see that it is: <lb>First, to blush at nothing. And blushyng in youth, sayth <lb><i>Aristotle</i> is nothyng els, but feare to do ill: which feare beyng <lb>once lustely fraid away from youth, then foloweth, // Grace of <lb>to dare do any mischief, to contemne stoutly any // Courte.

<lb>goodnesse, to be busie in euery matter, to be

<lb>skilfull in euery thyng, to acknowledge no ignorance at all.

<lb>To do thus in Court, is counted of some, the chief and greatest <lb>grace of all: and termed by the name of a // <i>Cic.</i> 3. <i>de</i>

<lb>vertue, called Corage & boldnesse, whan <i>Crassus</i> // <i>Or.</i>

<lb>in <i>Cicero</i> teacheth the cleane contrarie, and that <lb>most wittelie, saying thus: <i>Audere, cum bonis</i> // Boldnes <lb><i>etiam rebus coniunctum, per seipsum est magnopere</i> // yea in a <lb><i>fugiendum</i>. Which is to say, to be bold, yea // good mat-

<lb>in a good matter, is for it self, greatlie to be // ter, not to <lb>exchewed. // be praised.

<lb> Moreouer, where the swing goeth, there to follow, fawne, <lb>flatter, laugh and lie lustelie at other mens liking. // More <lb>To face, stand formest, shoue backe: and to the // Grace of <lb>meaner man, or vnknowne in the Court, to // Courte.

<lb>seeme somwhat solume, coye, big, and dangerous of looke, <lb>taulk, and answere: To thinke well of him selfe, to be lustie <lb>in contemning of others, to haue some trim grace in a priuie <lb>mock. And in greater presens, to beare a braue looke: to be <lb>warlike, though he neuer looked enimie in the face in warre: <lb>yet som warlike signe must be vsed, either a slouinglie busking, <lb>or an ouerstaring frounced hed, as though out of euerie heeres <lb>toppe, should suddenlie start out a good big othe, when nede <lb>requireth, yet praised be God, England hath at // Men of <lb>this time, manie worthie Capitaines and good // warre, best <lb>souldiours, which be in deede, so honest of // of conditi-

<lb>behauiour, so cumlie of conditions, so milde of // ons.

<lb>maners, as they may be examples of good order, to a good sort <lb>of others, which neuer came in warre. But to retorne, where <lb>I left: In place also, to be able to raise taulke, and make <lb>discourse of euerie rishe: to haue a verie good // Palmistrie.

<lb>will, to heare him selfe speake: To be seene

<lb>

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<lb>208 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>in Palmestrie, wherby to conueie to chast eares, som fond or <lb>filthie taulke:

<lb> And if som Smithfeild Ruffian take vp, som strange <lb>going: som new mowing with the mouth: som wrinchyng <lb>with the shoulder, som braue prouerbe: som fresh new othe, <lb>that is not stale, but will rin round in the mouth: som new <lb>disguised garment, or desperate hat, fond in facion, or gaurish <lb>in colour, what soeuer it cost, how small soeuer his liuing be, <lb>by what shift soeuer it be gotten, gotten must it be, and vsed <lb>with the first, or els the grace of it, is stale and gone: som <lb>part of this gracelesse grace, was discribed by me, in a little <lb>rude verse long ago.

<lb>

<lb> <i>{To laughe, to lie, to flatter, to face:

<lb> {Foure waies in Court to win men grace.

<lb> {If thou be thrall to none of thiese,

<lb> {Away good Peek goos, hens Iohn Cheese:

<lb> {Marke well my word, and marke their dede,

<lb> {And thinke this verse part of thy Crede.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Would to God, this taulke were not trewe, and that som <lb>mens doinges were not thus: I write not to hurte any, but to <lb> {Councell. | // proffit som: to accuse none, but to monish <lb>Ill{ | // soch, who, allured by ill counsell, and folowing <lb> { | // ill example, contrarie to their good bringyng vp, <lb> {Company. | // and against their owne good nature, yeld ouer-

<lb>moch to thies folies and faultes: I know many seruing men, <lb>Seruinge // of good order, and well staide: And againe, I <lb>men. // heare saie, there be som seruing men do but ill <lb><i>Terentius.</i> // seruice to their yong masters. Yea, rede <i>Terence</i>

<lb><i>Plautus.</i> // and <i>Plaut.</i> aduisedlie ouer, and ye shall finde in <lb>those two wise writers, almost in euery commedie, no vn-

<lb>Serui cor- // thriftie yong man, that is not brought there vnto, <lb>ruptelæ // by the sotle inticement of som lewd seruant.

<lb>iuuenum. // And euen now in our dayes <i>Getæ</i> and <i>Daui</i>, <lb><i>Gnatos</i> and manie bold bawdie <i>Phormios</i> to, be preasing in, <lb>Multi Ge- // to pratle on euerie stage, to medle in euerie <lb>tæ pauci // matter, whan honest <i>Parmenos</i> shall not be hard, <lb>Parmeno- // but beare small swing with their masters. Their <lb>nes. // companie, their taulke, their ouer great experience <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 209

<lb>

<lb>in mischief, doth easelie corrupt the best natures, and best <lb>brought vp wittes.

<lb> But I meruell the lesse, that thies misorders be emonges <lb>som in the Court, for commonlie in the contrie // Misorders <lb>also euerie where, innocencie is gone: Bashful- // in the coun-

<lb>nesse is banished: moch presumption in yougthe: // trey.

<lb>small authoritie in aige: Reuerence is neglected: dewties be <lb>confounded: and to be shorte, disobedience doth ouerflowe the <lb>bankes of good order, almoste in euerie place, almoste in euerie <lb>degree of man.

<lb> Meane men haue eies to see, and cause to lament, and <lb>occasion to complaine of thies miseries: but other haue <lb>authoritie to remedie them, and will do so to, whan God shall <lb>think time fitte. For, all thies misorders, be Goddes iuste <lb>plages, by his sufferance, brought iustelie vpon vs, for our <lb>sinnes, which be infinite in nomber, and horrible in deede, but <lb>namelie, for the greate abhominable sin of vn- // Contempt <lb>kindnesse: but what vnkindnesse? euen such // of Gods <lb>vnkindnesse as was in the Iewes, in contemninge // trewe Re-

<lb>Goddes voice, in shrinking from his woorde, in // ligion.

<lb>wishing backe againe for <i>Ægypt</i>, in committing aduoultrie and <lb>hordom, not with the women, but with the doctrine of Babylon, <lb>did bring all the plages, destructions, and Captiuities, that fell <lb>so ofte and horriblie, vpon Israell.

<lb> We haue cause also in England to beware of vnkindnesse, <lb>who haue had, in so fewe yeares, the Candel of Goddes <lb>worde, so oft lightned, so oft put out, and yet // <i>Doctrina</i>

<lb>will venture by our vnthankfulnesse in doctrine // <i>Mores.</i>

<lb>and sinfull life, to leese againe, lighte, Candle, <lb>Candlesticke and all.

<lb> God kepe vs in his feare, God grafte in vs the trewe <lb>knowledge of his woorde, with a forward will to folowe it, and <lb>so to bring forth the sweete fruites of it, & then shall he <lb>preserue vs by his Grace, from all maner of terrible dayes.

<lb> The remedie of this, doth not stand onelie, // <i>Publicæ</i>

<lb>in making good common lawes for the hole // <i>Leges.</i>

<lb>Realme, but also, (and perchance cheiflie) // <i>Domestica</i>

<lb>in obseruing priuate discipline euerie man care- // <i>disciplina.</i>

<lb>fullie in his own house: and namelie, if speciall // <i>Cognitio</i>

<lb>regard be had to yougth: and that, not so moch, // <i>boni.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>210 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>in teaching them what is good, as in keping them from that, <lb>that is ill.

<lb> Therefore, if wise fathers, be not as well waare in weeding <lb><i>Ignoratio</i> // from their Children ill thinges, and ill companie, <lb><i>mali.</i> // as they were before, in graftinge in them <lb>learninge, and prouiding for them good schole-

<lb>masters, what frute, they shall reape of all their coste & care, <lb>common experience doth tell.

<lb> Here is the place, in yougthe is the time whan som <lb>Some // ignorance is as necessarie, as moch knowledge, <lb>ignorance, // and not in matters of our dewtie towardes God, <lb>as good as // as som wilful wittes willinglie against their owne <lb>knowledge. // knowledge, perniciouslie againste their owne <lb>conscience, haue of late openlie taught. In deede <i>S. Chryso-</i>

<lb><i>Chrisost. de</i> // <i>stome</i>, that noble and eloquent Doctor, in a <lb><i>Fato.</i> // sermon <i>contra fatum</i>, and the curious serchinge of <lb>natiuities, doth wiselie saie, that ignorance therein, <lb>is better than knowledge: But to wring this sentence, to <lb>wreste thereby out of mens handes, the knowledge of Goddes <lb>doctrine, is without all reason, against common sence, contrarie <lb>to the iudgement also of them, which be the discretest men, and <lb><i>Iulia. Apo-</i> // best learned, on their own side. I know, <i>Iulianus</i>

<lb><i>stat.</i> // <i>Apostata</i> did so, but I neuer hard or red, that any <lb>auncyent father of the primitiue chirch, either

<lb>thought or wrote so.

<lb> But this ignorance in yougthe, which I spake on, or rather <lb>Innocency // this simplicitie, or most trewlie, this innocencie, <lb>in youth. // is that, which the noble <i>Persians</i>, as wise <i>Xenophon</i>

<lb>doth testifie, were so carefull, to breede vp their <lb>yougth in. But Christian fathers commonlie do not so. And <lb>I will tell you a tale, as moch to be misliked, as the <i>Persians</i>

<lb>example is to be folowed.

<lb> This last somer, I was in a Ientlemans house: where <lb>A childe ill // a yong childe, somewhat past fower yeare olde, <lb>brought // cold in no wise frame his tongue, to saie, a litle <lb>vp. // shorte grace: and yet he could roundlie rap out, <lb>so manie vgle othes, and those of the newest facion, as som <lb>good man of fourescore yeare olde hath neuer hard named <lb>Ill Pa- // before: and that which was most detestable of <lb>rentes. // all, his father and mother wold laughe at it. I <lb>

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<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 211

<lb>

<lb>moche doubte, what comforte, an other daie, this childe shall <lb>bring vnto them. This Childe vsing moche the companie of <lb>seruinge men, and geuing good eare to their taulke, did easelie <lb>learne, which he shall hardlie forget, all daies of his life here-

<lb>after: So likewise, in the Courte, if a yong Ientleman will <lb>ventur him self into the companie of Ruffians, it is ouer greate <lb>a ieopardie, lest, their facions, maners, thoughtes, taulke, and <lb>deedes, will verie sone, be euer like. The confounding of <lb>companies, breedeth confusion of good maners // Ill compa-

<lb>both in the Courte, and euerie where else. // nie.

<lb> And it maie be a great wonder, but a greater shame, to vs <lb>Christian men, to vnderstand, what a heithen writer, <i>Isocrates</i>, <lb>doth leaue in memorie of writing, concerning the // <i>Isocrates.</i>

<lb>care, that the noble Citie of <i>Athens</i> had, to bring <lb>vp their yougthe, in honest companie, and vertuous discipline, <lb>whose taulke in Greke, is, to this effect, in Englishe.

<lb> “The Citie, was not more carefull, to see their Children <lb>“well taughte, than to see their yong men well // In Orat.

<lb>“gouerned: which they brought to passe, not so // Ariopag.

<lb>“much by common lawe, as by priuate discipline.

<lb>“For, they had more regard, that their yougthe, by good order <lb>“shold not offend, than how, by lawe, they might be punished: <lb>“And if offense were committed, there was, neither waie to <lb>“hide it, neither hope of pardon for it. Good natures, were <lb>“not so moche openlie praised as they were secretlie marked, <lb>“and watchfullie regarded, lest they should lease the goodnes <lb>“they had. Therefore in scholes of singing and dauncing, and <lb>“other honest exercises, gouernours were appointed, more <lb>“diligent to ouersee their good maners, than their masters were, <lb>“to teach them anie learning. It was som shame to a yong <lb>“man, to be seene in the open market: and if for businesse, he <lb>“passed throughe it, he did it, with a meruelous modestie, and <lb>“bashefull facion. To eate, or drinke in a Tauerne, was not <lb>“onelie a shame, but also punishable, in a yong man. To <lb>“contrarie, or to stand in termes with an old man, was more <lb>“heinous, than in som place, to rebuke and scolde with his <lb>“owne father: with manie other mo good orders, and faire <lb>disciplines, which I referre to their reading, that haue lust <lb>to looke vpon the description of such a worthie common <lb>welthe.

<lb>

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<lb>212 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb> And to know, what worthie frute, did spring of soch <lb>Good sede, // worthie seade, I will tell yow the most meruell <lb>worthie // of all, and yet soch a trothe, as no man shall <lb>frute. // denie it, except such as be ignorant in knowledge <lb>of the best stories.

<lb> <i>Athens</i>, by this discipline and good ordering of yougthe, did <lb><i>Athenes.</i> // breede vp, within the circute of that one Citie, <lb>within the compas of one hondred yeare, within

<lb>the memorie of one mans life, so manie notable Capitaines in <lb>warre, for worthinesse, wisdome and learning, as be scarse <lb>Roma. // matchable no not in the state of Rome, in the <lb>compas of those seauen hondred yeares, whan it

<lb>florished moste.

<lb> And bicause, I will not onelie saie it, but also proue it, the <lb>The noble // names of them be these. <i>Miltiades, Themistocles</i>, <lb>Capitaines // <i>Xantippus, Pericles, Cymon, Alcybiades, Thrasybulus</i>, <lb>of Athens. // <i>Conon, Iphicrates, Xenophon, Timotheus, Theopompus</i>, <lb><i>Demetrius</i>, and diuers other mo: of which euerie one, maie <lb>iustelie be spoken that worthie praise, which was geuen to <lb><i>Scipio Africanus</i>, who, <i>Cicero</i> douteth, whether he were, more <lb>noble Capitaine in warre, or more eloquent and wise councelor <lb><i>Æmil.</i> // in peace. And if ye beleue not me, read dili-

<lb><i>Probus.</i> // gentlie, <i>Æmilius Probus</i> in Latin, and <i>Plutarche</i>

<lb><i>Plutarchus.</i> // in Greke, which two, had no cause either to <lb>flatter or lie vpon anie of those which I haue

<lb>recited.

<lb> And beside nobilitie in warre, for excellent and matchles <lb>The lear- // masters in all maner of learninge, in that one <lb>ned of A- // Citie, in memorie of one aige, were mo learned <lb>thenes. // men, and that in a maner altogether, than all <lb>tyme doth remember, than all place doth affourde, than all other <lb>tonges do conteine. And I do not meene of those Authors, <lb>which, by iniurie of tyme, by negligence of men, by crueltie of <lb>fier and sworde, be lost, but euen of those, which by Goddes <lb>grace, are left yet vnto us: of which I thank God, euen my <lb>poore studie lacketh not one. As, in Philosophie, <i>Plato, Aris-

<lb>totle, Xenophon, Euclide</i> and <i>Theophrast</i>: In eloquens and Ciuill <lb>lawe, <i>Demosthenes, Æschines, Lycurgus, Dinarchus, Demades, <lb>Isocrates, Isæus, Lysias, Antisthenes, Andocides</i>: In histories, <i>He-

<lb>rodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon</i>: and which we lacke, to our <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 213

<lb>

<lb>great losse, <i>Theopompus</i> and <i>Eph[orus]</i>: In Poetrie <i>Æschylus, <lb>Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes</i>, and somwhat of <i>Menander, <lb>Demosthenes</i> sister sonne.

<lb> Now, let Italian, and Latin it self, Spanishe, French, <lb>Douch, and Englishe bring forth their lerning, // Learnyng, <lb>and recite their Authors, <i>Cicero</i> onelie excepted, // chiefly con-

<lb>and one or two moe in Latin, they be all patched // teined in <lb>cloutes and ragges, in comparison of faire wouen // the Greke, <lb>broade clothes. And trewelie, if there be any // and in no o-

<lb>good in them, it is either lerned, borowed, or // ther tong.

<lb>stolne, from some one of those worthie wittes of <i>Athens</i>.

<lb> The remembrance of soch a common welthe, vsing soch <lb>discipline and order for yougthe, and thereby bringing forth to <lb>their praise, and leauing to vs for our example, such Capitaines <lb>for warre, soch Councelors for peace, and matcheles masters, <lb>for all kinde of learninge, is pleasant for me to recite, and not <lb>irksum, I trust, for other to heare, except it be soch, as make <lb>neither counte of vertue nor learninge.

<lb> And whether, there be anie soch or no, I can not well tell: <lb>yet I hear saie, some yong Ientlemen of oures, // Contem-

<lb>count it their shame to be counted learned: and // ners of <lb>perchance, they count it their shame, to be // learnyng.

<lb>counted honest also, for I heare saie, they medle as litle with the <lb>one, as with the other. A meruelous case, that Ientlemen <lb>shold so be ashamed of good learning, and neuer a whit ashamed <lb>of ill maners: soch do saie for them, that the

<lb>Ientlemen of France do so: which is a lie, as // Ientlemen <lb>God will haue it. <i>Langæus</i>, and <i>Bellæus</i> that be // of France.

<lb>dead, & the noble <i>Vidam</i> of Chartres, that is aliue, and infinite <lb>mo in France, which I heare tell of, proue this to be most false.

<lb>And though som, in France, which will nedes be Ientlemen, <lb>whether men will or no, and haue more ientleshipe in their hat, <lb>than in their hed, be at deedlie feude, with both learning and <lb>honestie, yet I beleue, if that noble Prince, king <i>Francis</i> the <lb>first were aliue, they shold haue, neither place in // Franciscus <lb>his Courte, nor pension in his warres, if he had // I. Nobilis.

<lb>knowledge of them. This opinion is not French, // Francorum <lb>but plaine Turckishe: from whens, some Frenche // Rex.

<lb>fetche moe faultes, than this: which, I praie God, kepe out of <lb>

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<lb>214 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>England, and send also those of oures better mindes, which <lb>bend them selues againste vertue and learninge, to the con-

<lb>tempte of God, dishonor of their contrie to the hurt of manie <lb>others, and at length, to the greatest harme, and vtter destruction <lb>of themselues.

<lb> Som other, hauing better nature, but lesse witte, (for ill <lb>commonlie, haue ouer moch witte) do not vtterlie dispraise <lb>Experience // learning, but they saie, that without learning, <lb>without // common experience, knowledge of all facions, and <lb>learnyng. // haunting all companies, shall worke in yougthe, <lb>both wisdome, and habilitie, to execute anie weightie affaire.

<lb>Surelie long experience doth proffet moch, but moste, and <lb>almost onelie to him (if we meene honest affaires) that is dili-

<lb>gentlie before instructed with preceptes of well doinge. For <lb>good precepts of learning, be the eyes of the minde, to looke <lb>wiselie before a man, which waie to go right, and which not.

<lb> Learning teacheth more in one yeare than experience in <lb>Learnyng. // twentie: And learning teacheth safelie. when <lb>experience maketh mo miserable then wise. He

<lb>Experience. // hasardeth sore, that waxeth wise by experience.

<lb>An vnhappie Master he is, that is made cunning by manie <lb>shippewrakes: A miserable merchant, that is neither riche or <lb>wise, but after som bankroutes. It is costlie wisdom, that is <lb>bought by experience. We know by experience it selfe, that it <lb>is a meruelous paine, to finde oute but a short waie, by long <lb>wandering. And surelie, he that wold proue wise by <lb>experience, he maie be wittie in deede, but euen like a swift <lb>runner, that runneth fast out of his waie, and vpon the night, <lb>he knoweth not whither. And verilie they be fewest of <lb>number, that be happie or wise by vnlearned experience. And <lb>looke well vpon the former life of those fewe, whether your <lb>example be old or yonge, who without learning haue gathered, <lb>by long experience, a litle wisdom, and som happines: and <lb>whan you do consider, what mischiefe they haue committed, <lb>what dangers they haue escaped (and yet xx. for one, do <lb>perishe in the aduenture) than thinke well with your selfe, <lb>whether ye wold, that your owne son, should cum to wisdom <lb>and happines, by the waie of soch experience or no.

<lb> It is a notable tale, that old Syr <i>Roger Chamloe</i>, somtime <lb>

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<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 215

<lb>

<lb>cheife Iustice, wold tell of him selfe. When he was Auncient <lb>in Inne of Courte, Certaine yong Ientlemen // Syr <i>Roger</i>

<lb>were brought before him, to be corrected for <i>Chamloe.</i>

<lb>certaine misorders: And one of the lustiest saide: <lb>Syr, we be yong ientlemen, and wisemen before vs, haue <lb>proued all facions, and yet those haue done full well: this they <lb>said, because it was well knowen, that Syr <i>Roger</i> had bene a <lb>good feloe in his yougth. But he aunswered them verie wiselie.

<lb>In deede saith he, in yougthe, I was, as you ar now: and I <lb>had twelue feloes like vnto my self, but not one of them came <lb>to a good ende. And therfore, folow not my example in yougth, <lb>but folow my councell in aige, if euer ye thinke to cum to this <lb>place, or to thies yeares, that I am cum vnto, lesse ye meete <lb>either with pouertie or Tiburn in the way.

<lb> Thus, experience of all facions in yougthe, beinge, in profe, <lb>alwaise daungerous, in isshue, seldom lucklie, is // Experience.

<lb>a waie, in deede, to ouermoch knowledge, yet

<lb>vsed commonlie of soch men, which be either caried by som <lb>curious affection of mynde, or driuen by som hard necessitie of <lb>life, to hasard the triall of ouer manie perilous aduentures.

<lb> <i>Erasmus</i> the honor of learning of all oure time, saide <lb>wiselie that experience is the common schole- // <i>Erasmus.</i>

<lb>house of foles, and ill men: Men, of witte and // Experience, <lb>honestie, be otherwise instructed. For there be, // the schole-

<lb>that kepe them out of fier, and yet was neuer // house of <lb>burned: That beware of water, and yet was neuer // Foles, and <lb>nie drowninge: That hate harlottes, and was // ill men.

<lb>neuer at the stewes: That abhorre falshode, and neuer brake <lb>promis themselues.

<lb> But will ye see, a fit Similitude of this aduentured experience.

<lb>A Father, that doth let louse his son, to all experiences, is most <lb>like a fond Hunter, that letteth slippe a whelpe to the hole <lb>herde. Twentie to one, he shall fall vpon a rascall, and let <lb>go the faire game. Men that hunt so, be either ignorant <lb>persones, preuie stealers, or night walkers.

<lb> Learning therefore, ye wise fathers, and good bringing vp, <lb>and not blinde & dangerous experience, is the next and readiest <lb>waie, that must leede your Children, first, to wisdom, and than <lb>to worthinesse, if euer ye purpose they shall cum there.

<lb> And to saie all in shorte, though I lacke Authoritie to giue <lb>

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<lb>216 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>counsell, yet I lacke not good will to wisshe, that the yougthe <lb>How expe- // in England, speciallie Ientlemen, and namelie no-

<lb>rience may // bilitie, shold be by good bringing vp, so grounded <lb>proffet. // in iudgement of learninge, so founded in loue of <lb>honestie, as, whan they shold be called forthe to the execution <lb>of great affaires, in seruice of their Prince and contrie, they <lb>might be hable, to vse and to order, all experiences, were they <lb>good were they bad, and that, according to the square, rule, and <lb>line, of wisdom learning and vertue.

<lb> And, I do not meene, by all this my taulke, that yong <lb>Diligent // Ientlemen, should alwaies be poring on a booke, <lb>learninge // and by vsing good studies, shold lease honest <lb>ought to be // pleasure, and haunt no good pastime, I meene <lb>ioyned with // nothing lesse: For it is well knowne, that I both <lb>pleasant // like and loue, and haue alwaies, and do yet still <lb>pastimes, // vse, all exercises and pastimes, that be fitte for my <lb>namelie in a // nature and habilitie. And beside naturall dispo-

<lb>ientleman. // sition, in iudgement also, I was neuer, either Stoick in doctrine, <lb>or Anabaptist in Religion, to mislike a merie, pleasant, and <lb>plaifull nature, if no outrage be committed, against lawe, <lb>mesure, and good order.

<lb> Therefore, I wold wishe, that, beside some good time, fitlie <lb>appointed, and constantlie kepte, to encrease by readinge, the <lb>knowledge of the tonges and learning, yong ientlemen shold <lb>Learnyng // vse, and delite in all Courtelie exercises, and <lb>ioyned with // Ientlemanlike pastimes. And good cause whie: <lb>pastimes. // For the self same noble Citie of Athenes, iustlie <lb>commended of me before, did wiselie and vpon great considera-

<lb>tion, appoint, the Muses, <i>Apollo</i>, and <i>Pallas</i>, to be patrones of <lb><i>Musæ.</i> // learninge to their yougthe. For the Muses, <lb>besides learning, were also Ladies of dauncinge,

<lb><i>Apollo.</i> // mirthe and ministrelsie: <i>Apollo</i>, was god of shooting, <lb>and Author of cunning playing vpon Instrumentes:

<lb><i>Pallas.</i> // <i>Pallas</i> also was Laidie mistres in warres. Wher-

<lb>bie was nothing else ment, but that learninge shold be alwaise <lb>mingled, with honest mirthe, and cumlie exercises: and that <lb>warre also shold be gouerned by learning, and moderated by <lb>wisdom, as did well appeare in those Capitaines of <i>Athenes</i>

<lb>named by me before, and also in <i>Scipio</i> & <i>Cæsar</i>, the two <lb>Diamondes of Rome.

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<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 217

<lb>

<lb> And <i>Pallas</i>, was no more feared, in weering <i>Ægida</i>, than she <lb>was praised, for chosing <i>Oliva</i>: whereby shineth // Learning <lb>the glory of learning, which thus, was Gouernour // rewleth <lb>& Mistres, in the noble Citie of <i>Athenes</i>, both of // both warre <lb>warre and peace. // and peace.

<lb> Therefore, to ride cumlie: to run faire at the tilte or ring: <lb>to plaie at all weapones: to shote faire in bow, or surelie in gon: <lb>to vaut lustely: to runne: to leape: to wrestle: // The pas-

<lb>to swimme: To daunce cumlie: to sing, and playe // times that <lb>of instrumentes cunnyngly: to Hawke: to hunte: // be fitte for <lb>to playe at tennes, & all pastimes generally, which // Courtlie <lb>be ioyned with labor, vsed in open place, and on // Ientlemen.

<lb>the day light, conteining either some fitte exercise for warre, or <lb>some pleasant pastime for peace, be not onelie cumlie and decent, <lb>but also verie necessarie, for a Courtlie Ientleman to vse.

<lb> But, of all kinde of pastimes, fitte for a Ientleman, I will, <lb>godwilling, in fitter place, more at large, declare fullie, in my <lb>booke of the Cockpitte: which I do write, to // The Cok-

<lb>satisfie som, I trust, with som reason, that be // pitte.

<lb>more curious, in marking other mens doinges, than <lb>carefull in mendying their owne faultes. And som also will <lb>nedes busie them selues in merueling, and adding thereunto <lb>vnfrendlie taulke, why I, a man of good yeares, and of no ill <lb>place, I thanke God and my Prince, do make choise to spend <lb>soch tyme in writyng of trifles, as the schole of shoting, the <lb>Cockpitte, and this booke of the first Principles of Grammer, <lb>rather, than to take some weightie matter in hand, either of <lb>Religion, or Ciuill discipline.

<lb> Wise men I know, will well allow of my choise herein: and <lb>as for such, who haue not witte of them selues, but must learne <lb>of others, to iudge right of mens doynges, let them // A booke of <lb>read that wise Poet <i>Horace</i> in his <i>Arte Poetica</i>, // a lofty title, <lb>who willeth wisemen to beware, of hie and loftie // beareth the <lb>Titles. For, great shippes, require costlie tack- // brag of o-

<lb>ling, and also afterward dangerous gouernment: // uergreat a <lb>Small boates, be neither verie chargeable in // promise.

<lb>makyng, nor verie oft in great ieoperdie: and yet they cary <lb>many tymes, as good and costlie ware, as greater vessels do.

<lb>A meane Argument, may easelie beare, the light burden of <lb>a small faute, and haue alwaise at hand, a ready excuse for <lb>

<lb>

<lb>218 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>ill handling: And, some praise it is, if it so chaunce, to be <lb>The right // better in deede, than a man dare venture to <lb>choise, to // seeme. A hye title, doth charge a man, with <lb>chose a fitte // the heauie burden, of to great a promise: and <lb>Argument // therefore sayth <i>Horace</i> verie wittelie, that, that <lb>to write // Poete was a verie foole, that began hys booke, <lb>vpon. // with a goodlie verse in deede, but ouer proude <lb><i>Hor. in</i> // a promise.

<lb><i>Arte Poet.</i> //

<lb>

<lb> <i>Fortunam Priami cantabo & nobile bellum,</i>

<lb>

<lb>And after, as wiselie.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Quantò rectiùs hic, qui nil molitur ineptè. etc.</i>

<lb>

<lb>Meening <i>Homer</i>, who, within the compasse of a smal <lb><i>Homers</i> // Argument, of one harlot, and of one good wife, <lb>wisdom in // did vtter so moch learning in all kinde of sciences, <lb>choice of // as, by the iudgement of <i>Quintilian</i>, he deserueth <lb>his Argu- // so hie a praise, that no man yet deserued to sit <lb>ment. // in the second degree beneth him. And thus moch <lb>out of my way, concerning my purpose in spending penne, and <lb>paper, & tyme, vpon trifles, & namelie to aunswere some, that <lb>haue neither witte nor learning, to do any thyng them selues, <lb>neither will nor honestie, to say well of other.

<lb> To ioyne learnyng with cumlie exercises, <i>Conto Baldesær</i>

<lb>The Cor- // <i>Castiglione</i> in his booke, <i>Cortegiano</i>, doth trimlie <lb>tegian, an // teache: which booke, aduisedlie read, and dili-

<lb>excellent // gentlie folowed, but one yeare at home in <lb>booke for a // England, would do a yong ientleman more good, <lb>ientleman. // I wisse, then three yeares trauell abrode spent in <lb><i>Italie</i>. And I meruell this booke, is no more read in the Court, <lb>than it is, seying it is so well translated into English by a worthie <lb>Syr <i>Tho.</i> // Ientleman Syr <i>Th. Hobbie</i>, who was many wayes <lb><i>Hobbye.</i> // well furnished with learnyng, and very expert in <lb>knowledge of diuers tonges.

<lb> And beside good preceptes in bookes, in all kinde of tonges, <lb>this Court also neuer lacked many faire examples, for yong <lb>Examples // ientlemen to folow: And surelie, one example, <lb>better than // is more valiable, both to good and ill, than xx.

<lb>preceptes. // preceptes written in bookes: and so <i>Plato</i>, not in <lb>one or two, but diuerse places, doth plainlie teach.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 219

<lb>

<lb> If kyng <i>Edward</i> had liued a litle longer, his onely example <lb>had breed soch a rase of worthie learned ientlemen, // <i>King Ed.</i> 6.

<lb>as this Realme neuer yet did affourde.

<lb> And, in the second degree, two noble Primeroses of <lb>Nobilitie, the yong Duke of Suffolke, and Lord // The yong <lb><i>H. Matreuers</i>, were soch two examples to the // Duke of <lb>Court for learnyng, as our tyme may rather wishe, // Suffolke.

<lb>than looke for agayne. // <i>L. H. Mar-</i>

<lb>// <i>treuers.</i>

<lb> At Cambrige also, in S. Iohns Colledge, in

<lb>my tyme, I do know, that, not so much the good statutes, as two <lb>Ientlemen, of worthie memorie Syr <i>Iohn Cheke</i>, // <i>Syr John</i>

<lb>and Doctour <i>Readman</i>, by their onely example // <i>Cheke.</i>

<lb>of excellency in learnyng, of godlynes in liuyng, of <lb>diligencie in studying, of councell in exhorting, of good order in <lb>all thyng, did breed vp, so many learned men, in // <i>D. Read-</i>

<lb>that one College of S. Iohns, at one time, as I // <i>man.</i>

<lb>beleue, the whole Vniuersitie of <i>Louaine</i>, in many <lb>yeares, was neuer able to affourd.

<lb> Present examples of this present tyme, I list not to <lb>touch: yet there is one example, for all the Ien- // <i>Queene</i>

<lb>tlemen of this Court to folow, that may well // <i>Elisabeth.</i>

<lb>satisfie them, or nothing will serue them, nor no <lb>example moue them, to goodnes and learning.

<lb> It is your shame, (I speake to you all, you yong Ientlemen <lb>of England) that one mayd should go beyond you all, in excel-

<lb>lencie of learnyng, and knowledge of diuers tonges. Pointe <lb>forth six of the best giuen Ientlemen of this Court, and all they <lb>together, shew not so much good will, spend not so much tyme, <lb>bestow not so many houres, dayly orderly, & constantly, for the <lb>increase of learning & knowledge, as doth the Queenes Maiestie <lb>her selfe. Yea I beleue, that beside her perfit readines, in <lb><i>Latin, Italian, French</i>, & <i>Spanish</i>, she readeth here now at <lb>Windsore more Greeke euery day, than some Prebendarie of <lb>this Chirch doth read <i>Latin</i> in a whole weeke. And that <lb>which is most praise worthie of all, within the walles of her <lb>priuie chamber, she hath obteyned that excellencie of learnyng, <lb>to vnderstand, speake, & write, both wittely with head, and <lb>faire with hand, as scarse one or two rare wittes in both the <lb>Vniuersities haue in many yeares reached vnto. Amongest <lb>all the benefites y<sup>t</sup> God hath blessed me with all, next the <lb>

<lb>

<lb>220 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>knowledge of Christes true Religion, I counte this the greatest, <lb>that it pleased God to call me, to be one poore minister in <lb>settyng forward these excellent giftes of learnyng in this most <lb>excellent Prince. Whose onely example, if the rest of our <lb>Ill Exam- // nobilitie would folow, than might England be, <lb>ples haue // for learnyng and wisedome in nobilitie, a spectacle <lb>more force, // to all the world beside. But see the mishap of <lb>then good // men: The best examples haue neuer such forse <lb>examples. // to moue to any goodnes, as the bad, vaine, light <lb>and fond, haue to all ilnes.

<lb> And one example, though out of the compas of learning, <lb>yet not out of the order of good maners, was notable in this <lb>Courte, not fullie xxiiij. yeares a go, when all the actes of <lb>Parlament, many good Proclamations, diuerse strait commanude-

<lb>mentes, sore punishment openlie, speciall regarde priuatelie, cold <lb>not do so moch to take away one misorder, as the example of <lb>one big one of this Courte did, still to kepe vp the same: The <lb>memorie whereof, doth yet remaine, in a common prouerbe of <lb>Birching lane.

<lb> Take hede therfore, ye great ones in y<sup>e</sup> Court, yea though <lb>Great men // ye be y<sup>e</sup> greatest of all, take hede, what ye do, <lb>in Court, // take hede how ye liue. For as you great ones <lb>by their // vse to do, so all meane men loue to do. You be <lb>example, // in deed, makers or marrers, of all mens maners <lb>make or // within the Realme. For though God hath placed <lb>marre, all // yow, to be cheife in making of lawes, to beare <lb>other mens // greatest authoritie, to commaund all others: yet <lb>maners. // God doth order, that all your lawes, all your authoritie, all your <lb>commaundementes, do not halfe so moch with meane men, as <lb>Example // doth your example and maner of liuinge. And <lb>in Religion. // for example euen in the greatest matter, if yow <lb>your selues do serue God gladlie and orderlie for <lb>conscience sake, not coldlie, and somtyme for maner sake, you <lb>carie all the Courte with yow, and the whole Realme beside, <lb>earnestlie and orderlie to do the same. If yow do otherwise, <lb>yow be the onelie authors, of all misorders in Religion, not <lb>onelie to the Courte, but to all England beside. Infinite shall <lb>be made cold in Religion by your example, that neuer were <lb>hurt by reading of bookes.

<lb> And in meaner matters, if three or foure great ones in <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 221

<lb>

<lb>Courte, will nedes outrage in apparell, in huge hose, in mon-

<lb>strous hattes, in gaurishe colers, let the Prince Pro- // Example <lb>clame, make Lawes, order, punishe, commaunde // in apparell.

<lb>euerie gate in London dailie to be watched, let all <lb>good men beside do euerie where what they can, surelie the <lb>misorder of apparell in mean men abrode, shall neuer be <lb>amended, except the greatest in Courte will order and mend <lb>them selues first. I know, som greate and good ones in Courte, <lb>were authors, that honest Citizens of London, shoulde watche <lb>at euerie gate, to take misordered persones in apparell. I know, <lb>that honest Londoners did so: And I sawe, which I saw than, <lb>& reporte now with some greife, that som Courtlie men were <lb>offended with these good men of London. And that, which <lb>greued me most of all, I sawe the verie same tyme, for all theis <lb>good orders, commaunded from the Courte and executed in <lb>London, I sawe I say, cum out of London, euen // Masters, <lb>vnto the presence of the Prince, a great rable of // Vshers, &

<lb>meane and light persons, in apparell, for matter, // Scholers <lb>against lawe, for making, against order, for facion, // of fense.

<lb>namelie hose, so without all order, as he thought himselfe most <lb>braue, that durst do most in breaking order and was most <lb>monsterous in misorder. And for all the great commaunde-

<lb>mentes, that came out of the Courte, yet this bold misorder, <lb>was winked at, and borne withall, in the Courte. I thought, <lb>it was not well, that som great ones of the Court, durst declare <lb>themselues offended, with good men of London, for doinge their <lb>dewtie, & the good ones of the Courte, would not shew them-

<lb>selues offended, with ill men of London, for breaking good <lb>order. I fownde thereby a sayinge of <i>Socrates</i> to be most trewe <lb>that ill men be more hastie, than good men be forwarde, to <lb>prosecute their purposes, euen as Christ himselfe saith, of the <lb>Children of light and darknes.

<lb> Beside apparell, in all other thinges to, not so moch, good <lb>lawes and strait commaundementes as the example and maner <lb>of liuing of great men, doth carie all meane men euerie where, <lb>to like, and loue, & do, as they do. For if but two or three <lb>noble men in the Court, wold but beginne to // Example <lb>shoote, all yong Ientlemen, the whole Court, all // in shoo-

<lb>London, the whole Realme, wold straight waie // tyng.

<lb>exercise shooting.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>222 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb> What praise shold they wynne to themselues, what com-

<lb>moditie shold they bring to their contrey, that would thus <lb>deserue to be pointed at: Beholde, there goeth, the author of <lb>good order, the guide of good men. I cold say more, and yet <lb>not ouermuch. But perchance, som will say, I haue stepte to <lb>farre, out of my schole, into the common welthe, from teaching <lb>Written not // a yong scholer, to monishe greate and noble men: <lb>for great // yet I trust good and wise men will thinke and <lb>men, but for // iudge of me, that my minde was, not so moch, <lb>great mens // to be busie and bold with them, that be great <lb>children. // now, as to giue trewe aduise to them, that may <lb>be great hereafter. Who, if they do, as I wishe them to do, <lb>how great so euer they be now, by blood and other mens <lb>meanes, they shall becum a greate deale greater hereafter, by <lb>learninge, vertue, and their owne desertes: which is trewe praise, <lb>right worthines, and verie Nobilitie in deede. Yet, if som will <lb>needes presse me, that I am to bold with great men, & stray to <lb>Ad Philip. // farre from my matter, I will aunswere them with <lb><i>S. Paul, siue perc ontentionem, siue quocunqe modo, <lb>modò Christus prædicetur, &c.</i> euen so, whether in place, or out <lb>of place, with my matter, or beside my matter, if I can hereby <lb>either prouoke the good, or staye the ill, I shall thinke my <lb>writing herein well imployed.

<lb> But, to cum downe, from greate men, and hier matters, to <lb>my litle children, and poore scholehouse againe, I will, God <lb>willing, go forwarde orderlie, as I purposed, to instructe <lb>Children and yong men, both for learninge and maners.

<lb> Hitherto, I haue shewed, what harme, ouermoch feare <lb>bringeth to children: and what hurte, ill companie, and ouer-

<lb>moch libertie breedeth in yougthe: meening thereby, that from <lb>seauen yeare olde, to seauentene, loue is the best allurement to <lb>learninge: from seauentene to seauen and twentie, that wise <lb>men shold carefullie see the steppes of yougthe surelie staide by <lb>good order, in that most slipperie tyme: and speciallie in the <lb>Courte, a place most dangerous for yougthe to liue in, without <lb>great grace, good regarde, and diligent looking to.

<lb> Syr <i>Richard Sackuile</i>, that worthy Ientlemen of worthy <lb>Trauelyng // memorie, as I sayd in the begynnynge, in the <lb>into Ita- // Queenes priuie Chamber at Windesore, after he <lb>lie. // had talked with me, for the right choice of a good <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 223

<lb>

<lb>witte in a child for learnyng, and of the trewe difference betwixt <lb>quicke and hard wittes, of alluring yong children by ientlenes <lb>to loue learnyng, and of the speciall care that was to be had, to <lb>keepe yong men from licencious liuyng, he was most earnest <lb>with me, to haue me say my mynde also, what I thought, <lb>concernyng the fansie that many yong Ientlemen of England <lb>haue to trauell abroad, and namely to lead a long lyfe in Italie.

<lb>His request, both for his authoritie, and good will toward me, <lb>was a sufficient commaundement vnto me, to satisfie his <lb>pleasure, with vtteryng plainlie my opinion in that matter.

<lb>Syr quoth I, I take goyng thither, and liuing there, for a yonge <lb>ientleman, that doth not goe vnder the kepe and garde of such <lb>a man, as both, by wisedome can, and authoritie dare rewle him, <lb>to be meruelous dangerous. And whie I said so than, I will <lb>declare at large now: which I said than priuatelie, and write <lb>now openlie, not bicause I do contemne, either the knowledge <lb>of strange and diuerse tonges, and namelie the // The Ita-

<lb>Italian tonge, which next the Greeke and Latin // lian tong.

<lb>tonge, I like and loue aboue all other: or else

<lb>bicause I do despise, the learning that is gotten, or the experi-

<lb>ence that is gathered in strange contries: or for any priuate <lb>malice that beare to Italie: which contrie, and // Italia.

<lb>in it, namelie Rome, I haue alwayes speciallie

<lb>honored: bicause, tyme was, whan Italie and // Roma.

<lb>Rome, haue bene, to the greate good of vs that now liue, the <lb>best breeders and bringers vp, of the worthiest men, not onelie <lb>for wise speakinge, but also for well doing, in all Ciuill affaires, <lb>that euer was in the worlde. But now, that tyme is gone, and <lb>though the place remayne, yet the olde and present maners, do <lb>differ as farre, as blacke and white, as vertue and vice. Vertue <lb>once made that contrie Mistres ouer all the worlde. Vice now <lb>maketh that contrie slaue to them, that before, were glad to <lb>serue it. All men seeth it: They themselues confesse it, <lb>namelie soch, as be best and wisest amongest them. For sinne, <lb>by lust and vanitie, hath and doth breed vp euery where, <lb>common contempt of Gods word, priuate contention in many <lb>families, open factions in euery Citie: and so, makyng them <lb>selues bonde, to vanitie and vice at home, they are content to <lb>beare the yoke of seruyng straungers abroad. <i>Italie</i> now, is not <lb>that <i>Italie</i>, that it was wont to be: and therfore now, not so <lb>

<lb>

<lb>224 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>fitte a place, as some do counte it, for yong men to fetch either <lb>wisedome or honestie from thence. For surelie, they will make <lb>other but bad Scholers, that be so ill Masters to them selues.

<lb>Yet, if a ientleman will nedes trauell into <i>Italie</i>, he shall do <lb>well, to looke on the life, of the wisest traueler, that euer <lb>traueled thether, set out by the wisest writer, that euer spake <lb>with tong, Gods doctrine onelie excepted: and that is <i>Vlysses</i> in <lb><i>Vlysses.</i> // <i>Homere</i>. <i>Vlysses</i>, and his trauell, I wishe our <lb><i>Homere.</i> // trauelers to looke vpon, not so much to feare <lb>them, with the great daungers, that he many

<lb>tymes suffered, as to instruct them, with his excellent wisedome, <lb>which he alwayes and euerywhere vsed. Yea euen those, that <lb>be learned and wittie trauelers, when they be disposed to prayse <lb>traueling, as a great commendacion, and the best Scripture they <lb>haue for it, they gladlie recite the third verse of <i>Homere</i>, in his <lb>first booke of <i>Odyssea</i>, conteinyng a great prayse of <i>Vlysses</i>, for <lb>odys. a. // the witte he gathered, & wisdome he vsed in <lb>his traueling.

<lb> Which verse, bicause, in mine opinion, it was not made at <lb>the first, more naturallie in <i>Greke</i> by <i>Homere</i>, nor after turned <lb>more aptlie into <i>Latin</i> by <i>Horace</i>, than it was a good while <lb>ago, in Cambrige, translated into English, both plainlie for the <lb>sense, and roundlie for the verse, by one of the best Scholers, <lb>that euer S. Iohns Colledge bred, <i>M. Watson</i>, myne old frend, <lb>somtime Bishop of Lincolne, therfore, for their sake, that haue <lb>lust to see, how our English tong, in auoidyng barbarous <lb>ryming, may as well receiue, right quantitie of sillables, and <lb>trewe order of versifiyng (of which matter more at large here-

<lb>after) as either <i>Greke</i> or <i>Latin</i>, if a cunning man haue it in <lb>handling, I will set forth that one verse in all three tonges, for <lb>an Example to good wittes, that shall delite in like learned <lb>exercise.

<lb><b>Homerus.</b>

<lb>pollon d anthropon iden astea kai noon egno.

<lb><b>Horatius.</b>

<lb><i>Qui mores hominum multorum vidit & vrbes.</i>

<lb><b>M. Watson.</b>

<lb><i>All trauellers do gladly report great prayse of Vlysses, <lb>For that he knew many mens maners, and saw many Cities.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 225

<lb>

<lb> And yet is not <i>Vlysses</i> commended, so much, nor so oft, in <lb><i>Homere</i>, bicause he was polytropos, that is, // | {polytropos.

<lb>skilfull in many mens manners and facions, as // | <i>Vlyss.</i> {

<lb>bicause he was polymetis, that is, wise in all // | { polymetis.

<lb>purposes, & ware in all places: which wisedome and warenes <lb>will not serue neither a traueler, except <i>Pallas</i> be // <i>Pallas</i> from <lb>alwayes at his elbow, that is Gods speciall grace // heauen.

<lb>from heauen, to kepe him in Gods feare, in all

<lb>his doynges, in all his ieorneye. For, he shall not alwayes <lb>in his absence out of England, light vpon a

<lb>ientle <i>Alcynous</i>, and walke in his faire gardens // | <i>Alcynous.</i> od. 2.

<lb>full of all harmelesse pleasures: but he shall // |

<lb>sometymes, fall, either into the handes of some // |

<lb>cruell <i>Cyclops</i>, or into the lappe of some wanton // | <i>Cyclops.</i> od. 1.

<lb>and dalying Dame <i>Calypso</i>: and so suffer the // | <i>Calypso.</i> od. e.

<lb>danger of many a deadlie Denne, not so full of // |

<lb>perils, to distroy the body, as, full of vayne // |

<lb>pleasures, to poyson the mynde. Some <i>Siren</i> // | <i>Sirenes.</i> }

<lb>shall sing him a song, sweete in tune, but // | }

<lb>sownding in the ende, to his vtter destruction. // | <i>Scylla.</i> } od.

m.

<lb>If <i>Scylla</i> drowne him not, <i>Carybdis</i> may fortune // | <i>Caribdis.</i> }

<lb>swalow hym. Some <i>Circes</i> shall make him, of // | <i>Circes.</i> od. k.

<lb>a plaine English man, a right <i>Italian</i>. And at <lb>length to hell, or to some hellish place, is he likelie to go: from <lb>whence is hard returning, although one <i>Vlysses</i>, and that by <lb><i>Pallas</i> ayde, and good counsell of <i>Tiresias</i> once // od. l.

<lb>escaped that horrible Den of deadly darkenes.

<lb> Therfore, if wise men will nedes send their sonnes into <lb><i>Italie</i>, let them do it wiselie, vnder the kepe and garde of him, <lb>who, by his wisedome and honestie, by his example and <lb>authoritie, may be hable to kepe them safe and sound, in the <lb>feare of God, in Christes trewe Religion, in good order and <lb>honestie of liuyng: except they will haue them run headling, <lb>into ouermany ieoperdies, as <i>Vlysses</i> had done many tymes, if <lb><i>Pallas</i> had not alwayes gouerned him: if he had not vsed, to <lb>stop his eares with waxe: to bind him selfe to // od. m.

<lb>the mast of his shyp: to feede dayly, vpon that // od. k.

<lb>swete herbe <i>Moly</i> with the blake roote and // Moly Her-

<lb>white floore, giuen vnto hym by Mercurie, to // ba.

<lb>auoide all the inchantmentes of <i>Circes</i>. Wherby, the Diuine <lb>

<lb>

<lb>226 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>Poete <i>Homer</i> ment couertlie (as wise and Godly men do iudge) <lb>Psal. 33. // that loue of honestie, and hatred of ill, which <lb><i>Dauid</i> more plainly doth call the feare of God: <lb>the onely remedie agaynst all inchantementes of sinne.

<lb> I know diuerse noble personages, and many worthie Ientle-

<lb>men of England, whom all the <i>Siren</i> songes of <i>Italie</i>, could <lb>neuer vntwyne from the maste of Gods word: nor no inchant-

<lb>ment of vanitie, ouerturne them, from the feare of God, and <lb>loue of honestie.

<lb> But I know as many, or mo, and some, sometyme my <lb>deare frendes, for whose sake I hate going into that countrey the <lb>more, who, partyng out of England feruent in the loue of <lb>Christes doctrine, and well furnished with the feare of God, <lb>returned out of <i>Italie</i> worse transformed, than euer was any in <lb><i>Circes</i> Court. I know diuerse, that went out of England, men <lb>of innocent life, men of excellent learnyng, who returned out <lb>of <i>Italie</i>, not onely with worse maners, but also with lesse <lb>learnyng: neither so willing to liue orderly, nor yet so hable to <lb>speake learnedlie, as they were at home, before they went <lb>abroad. And why? <i>Plato</i> y<sup>t</sup> wise writer, and worthy <lb>traueler him selfe, telleth the cause why. He went into <i>Sicilia</i>, <lb>a countrey, no nigher <i>Italy</i> by site of place, than <i>Italie</i> that is <lb>now, is like <i>Sicilia</i> that was then, in all corrupt maners and <lb>licenciousnes of life. <i>Plato</i> found in <i>Sicilia</i>, euery Citie full of <lb>vanitie, full of factions, euen as <i>Italie</i> is now. And as <i>Homere</i>, <lb>like a learned Poete, doth feyne, that <i>Circes</i>, by pleasant in-

<lb>chantmentes, did turne men into beastes, some into Swine, som <lb>into Asses, some into Foxes, some into Wolues etc. euen so <lb>Plat. ad // <i>Plato</i>, like a wise Philosopher, doth plainelie <lb>Dionys. // declare, that pleasure, by licentious vanitie, that <lb>Epist. 3. // sweete and perilous poyson of all youth, doth <lb>ingender in all those, that yeld vp themselues to her, foure <lb>notorious properties.

<lb> {1. lethen

<lb>The fruits // {2. dysmathian

<lb>of vayne // {3. achrosynen

<lb>pleasure. // {4. ybrin.

<lb> The first, forgetfulnes of all good thinges learned before: <lb>Causes // the second, dulnes to receyue either learnyng or <lb>why men // honestie euer after: the third, a mynde embracing <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 227

<lb>

<lb>lightlie the worse opinion, and baren of discretion // returne out <lb>to make trewe difference betwixt good and ill, // of Italie, <lb>betwixt troth, and vanitie, the fourth, a proude // lesse lear-

<lb>disdainfulnes of other good men, in all honest // ned and <lb>matters. <i>Homere</i> and <i>Plato</i>, haue both one // worse ma-

<lb>meanyng, looke both to one end. For, if a man // nered.

<lb>inglutte himself with vanitie, or walter in filthi- // <i>Homer</i> and <lb>nes like a Swyne, all learnyng, all goodnes, is // <i>Plato</i> ioy-

<lb>sone forgotten: Than, quicklie shall he becum // ned and ex-

<lb>a dull Asse, to vnderstand either learnyng or //pounded.

<lb>honestie: and yet shall he be as sutle as a Foxe, // A Swyne.

<lb>in breedyng of mischief, in bringyng in misorder, // An Asse.

<lb>with a busie head, a discoursing tong, and a factious harte, in // A Foxe.

<lb>euery priuate affaire, in all matters of state, with this pretie <lb>propertie, alwayes glad to commend the worse // aphrosyne, <lb>partie, and euer ready to defend the falser // Quid, et <lb>opinion. And why? For, where will is giuen // vnde.

<lb>from goodnes to vanitie, the mynde is sone caryed from right <lb>iudgement, to any fond opinion, in Religion, in Philosophie, or <lb>any other kynde of learning. The fourth fruite of vaine <lb>pleasure, by <i>Homer</i> and <i>Platos</i> iudgement, is pride // hybris.

<lb>in them selues, contempt of others, the very

<lb>badge of all those that serue in <i>Circes</i> Court. The trewe <lb>meenyng of both <i>Homer</i> and <i>Plato</i>, is plainlie declared in one <lb>short sentence of the holy Prophet of God // Hieremias <lb><i>Hieremie</i>, crying out of the vaine & vicious life // 4. Cap.

<lb>of the <i>Israelites</i>. This people (sayth he) be <lb>fooles and dulhedes to all goodnes, but sotle, cunning and <lb>bolde, in any mischiefe. &c.

<lb> The true medicine against the inchantmentes of <i>Circes</i>, <lb>the vanitie of licencious pleasure, the inticementes of all sinne, <lb>is, in <i>Homere</i>, the herbe <i>Moly</i>, with the blacke roote, and white <lb>flooer, sower at the first, but sweete in the end: which, <lb><i>Hesiodus</i> termeth the study of vertue, hard and // Hesiodus <lb>irksome in the beginnyng, but in the end, easie // de virtute.

<lb>and pleasant. And that, which is most to be

<lb>marueled at, the diuine Poete <i>Homere</i> sayth plainlie that this <lb>medicine against sinne and vanitie, is not found // Homerus, <lb>out by man, but giuen and taught by God. And // diuinus <lb>for some one sake, that will haue delite to read // Poeta.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>228 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>that sweete and Godlie Verse, I will recite the very wordes of <lb><i>Homere</i> and also turne them into rude English metre.

<lb>

<lb> chalepon de t oryssein

<lb> andrasi ge thnetoisi, theoi de te panta dynantai.

<lb>

<lb>In English thus.

<lb>

<lb> <i>No mortall man, with sweat of browe, or toile of minde, <lb> But onely God, who can do all, that herbe doth finde.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Plato</i> also, that diuine Philosopher, hath many Godly <lb>medicines agaynst the poyson of vayne pleasure, in many <lb>places, but specially in his Epistles to <i>Dionisius</i> the tyrant of <lb>Plat. ad // <i>Sicilie</i>: yet agaynst those, that will nedes becum <lb>Dio. // beastes, with seruyng of <i>Circes</i>, the Prophet <lb><i>Psal.</i> 32 // <i>Dauid</i>, crieth most loude, <i>Nolite fieri sicut equus et <lb>mulus</i>: and by and by giueth the right medi-

<lb>cine, the trewe herbe <i>Moly, In camo & freno maxillas <lb>eorum constringe</i>, that is to say, let Gods grace be the bitte, <lb>let Gods feare be the bridle, to stay them from runnyng head-

<lb>long into vice, and to turne them into the right way agayne.

<lb><i>Psal.</i> 33. // <i>Dauid</i> in the second Psalme after, giueth the <lb>same medicine, but in these plainer wordes,

<lb><i>Diuerte à malo, & fac bonum</i>. But I am affraide, that ouer <lb>many of our trauelers into <i>Italie</i>, do not exchewe the way to <lb><i>Circes</i> Court: but go, and ryde, and runne, and flie thether, <lb>they make great hast to cum to her: they make great sute to <lb>serue her: yea, I could point out some with my finger, that <lb>neuer had gone out of England, but onelie to serue <i>Circes</i>, in <lb><i>Italie</i>. Vanitie and vice, and any licence to ill liuyng in <lb>England was counted stale and rude vnto them. And so, beyng <lb>Mules and Horses before they went, returned verie Swyne and <lb>Asses home agayne: yet euerie where verie Foxes with suttle <lb>A trewe // and busie heades; and where they may, verie <lb>Picture of // wolues, with cruell malicious hartes. A mer-

<lb>a knight of // uelous monster, which, for filthines of liuyng, for <lb>Circes // dulnes to learning him selfe, for wilinesse in <lb>Court. // dealing with others, for malice in hurting without <lb>cause, should carie at once in one bodie, the belie of a Swyne, <lb>the head of an Asse, the brayne of a Foxe, the wombe of <lb>a wolfe. If you thinke, we iudge amisse, and write to sore <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 229

<lb>

<lb>against you, heare, what the <i>Italian</i> sayth of the English man, <lb>what the master reporteth of the scholer: who // The Ita-

<lb>vttereth playnlie, what is taught by him, and what // lians iudge-

<lb>learned by you, saying, <i>Englese Italianato, e vn</i> // ment of <lb><i>diabolo incarnato</i>, that is to say, you remaine men // Englishmen <lb>in shape and facion, but becum deuils in life // brought vp <lb>and condition. This is not, the opinion of one, // in Italie.

<lb>for some priuate spite, but the iudgement of all, in a common <lb>Prouerbe, which riseth, of that learnyng, and those maners, <lb>which you gather in <i>Italie</i>: a good Scholehouse // The Ita-

<lb>of wholesome doctrine: and worthy Masters of // lian diffa-

<lb>commendable Scholers, where the Master had // meth him <lb>rather diffame hym selfe for hys teachyng, than // selfe, to <lb>not shame his Scholer for his learning. A good // shame the <lb>nature of the maister, and faire conditions of the // Englishe <lb>scholers. And now chose you, you <i>Italian</i> English men, // man.

<lb>whether you will be angrie with vs, for calling you monsters, <lb>or with the <i>Italianes</i>, for callyng you deuils, or else with your <lb>owne selues, that take so much paines, and go so farre, to make <lb>your selues both. If some yet do not well vnder- // An Eng-

<lb>stand, what is an English man Italianated, I will // lish man <lb>plainlie tell him. He, that by liuing, & traueling // Italiana-

<lb>in <i>Italie</i>, bringeth home into England out of <i>Italie</i>, // ted.

<lb>the Religion, the learning, the policie, the experience, the maners <lb>of <i>Italie</i>. That is to say, for Religion, // | {1 Religion.}

<lb>Papistrie or worse: for learnyng, lesse // | {2 Learn- }

<lb>commonly than they caried out with // | { ing. }

<lb>them: for pollicie, a factious hart, a // | {3 Pollicie. }

<lb>discoursing head, a mynde to medle in // |The{ }gotten in <lb>all mens matters: for experience, // | {4 Experi- }<i>Italie</i>.

<lb>plentie of new mischieues neuer // | { ence. }

<lb>knowne in England before: for maners, // | {5 Maners. }

<lb>varietie of vanities, and chaunge of // |

<lb>filthy lyuing. These be the inchantementes of <i>Circes</i>, brought <lb>out of <i>Italie</i>, to marre mens maners in England: much, by <lb>example of ill life, but more by preceptes of fonde // <i>Italian</i>

<lb>bookes, of late translated out of <i>Italian</i> into // bokes trans-

<lb>English, sold in euery shop in London, com- // lated into <lb>mended by honest titles the soner to corrupt // English.

<lb>honest maners: dedicated ouer boldlie to vertuous and honor-

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>230 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>able personages, the easielier to begile simple and innocent wittes.

<lb>hand.gif // It is pitie, that those, which haue authoritie and <lb>charge, to allow and dissalow bookes to be printed, <lb>be no more circumspect herein, than they are. Ten Sermons <lb>at Paules Crosse do not so moch good for mouyng men to trewe <lb>doctrine, as one of those bookes do harme, with inticing men <lb>to ill liuing. Yea, I say farder, those bookes, tend not so moch <lb>to corrupt honest liuyng, as they do, to subuert trewe Religion.

<lb>Mo Papistes be made, by your mery bookes of <i>Italie</i>, than by <lb>your earnest bookes of <i>Louain</i>. And bicause our great <lb>Phisicians, do winke at the matter, and make no counte of this <lb>sore, I, though not admitted one of their felowshyp, yet hauyng <lb>bene many yeares a prentice to Gods trewe Religion, and trust <lb>to continewe a poore iorney man therein all dayes of my life, <lb>for the dewtie I owe, & loue I beare, both to trewe doctrine, <lb>and honest liuing, though I haue no authoritie to amend the <lb>sore my selfe, yet I will declare my good will, to discouer the <lb>sore to others.

<lb> S. Paul saith, that sectes and ill opinions, be the workes of <lb>Ad Gal. 5. // the flesh, and frutes of sinne, this is spoken, no <lb>more trewlie for the doctrine, than sensiblie for <lb>the reason. And why? For, ill doinges, breed ill thinkinges.

<lb>And of corrupted maners, spryng peruerted iudgementes. And <lb>Voluntas} {Bonum. | // how? there be in man two speciall <lb> } Respicit. { | // thinges: Mans will, mans mynde, <lb>Mens } { Verum. | Where will inclineth to goodnes, <lb>the mynde is bent to troth: Where will is caried from goodnes <lb>to vanitie, the mynde is sone drawne from troth to false <lb>opinion. And so, the readiest way to entangle the mynde with <lb>false doctrine, is first to intice the will to wanton liuyng.

<lb>Therfore, when the busie and open Papistes abroad, could not, <lb>by their contentious bookes, turne men in England fast enough, <lb>from troth and right iudgement in doctrine, than the sutle and <lb>hand.gif // secrete Papistes at home, procured bawdie bookes <lb>to be translated out of the <i>Italian</i> tonge, whereby <lb>ouer many yong willes and wittes allured to wantonnes, do now <lb>boldly contemne all seuere bookes that sounde to honestie and <lb>godlines. In our forefathers tyme, whan Papistrie, as a standyng <lb>poole, couered and ouerflowed all England, fewe bookes were <lb>read in our tong, sauyng certaine bookes of Cheualrie, as they <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 231

<lb>

<lb>sayd, for pastime and pleasure, which, as some say, were made <lb>in Monasteries, by idle Monkes, or wanton Chanons: as one <lb>for example, <i>Morte Arthure</i>: the whole pleasure // Morte Ar-

<lb>of which booke standeth in two speciall poyntes, // thur.

<lb>in open mans slaughter, and bold bawdrye: In which booke <lb>those be counted the noblest Knightes, that do kill most men <lb>without any quarell, and commit fowlest aduoulteries by <lb>sutlest shiftes: as Sir <i>Launcelote</i>, with the wife of king <i>Arthure</i>

<lb>his master: Syr <i>Tristram</i> with the wife of king <i>Marke</i> his <lb>vncle: Syr <i>Lamerocke</i> with the wife of king <i>Lote</i>, // hand.gif <lb>that was his own aunte. This is good stuffe, for <lb>wise men to laughe at, or honest men to take pleasure at. Yet <lb>I know, when Gods Bible was banished the Court, and <i>Morte <lb>Arthure</i> receiued into the Princes chamber. What toyes, the <lb>dayly readyng of such a booke, may worke in the will of a yong <lb>ientleman, or a yong mayde, that liueth welthelie and idlelie, <lb>wise men can iudge, and honest men do pitie. And yet ten <lb><i>Morte Arthures</i> do not the tenth part so much harme, as one of <lb>these bookes, made in <i>Italie</i>, and translated in // hand.gif <lb>England. They open, not fond and common

<lb>wayes to vice, but such subtle, cunnyng, new, and diuerse <lb>shiftes, to cary yong willes to vanitie, and yong wittes to <lb>mischief, to teach old bawdes new schole poyntes, as the simple <lb>head of an English man is not hable to inuent, nor neuer was <lb>hard of in England before, yea when Papistrie ouerflowed all.

<lb>Suffer these bookes to be read, and they shall soone displace all <lb>bookes of godly learnyng. For they, carying the will to <lb>vanitie, and marryng good maners, shall easily // hand.gif <lb>corrupt the mynde with ill opinions, and false

<lb>iudgement in doctrine: first, to thinke ill of all trewe Religion, <lb>and at last to thinke nothyng of God hym selfe, one speciall <lb>pointe that is to be learned in <i>Italie</i>, and <i>Italian</i> // hand.gif <lb>bookes. And that which is most to be lamented,

<lb>and therfore more nedefull to be looked to, there be moe of <lb>these vngratious bookes set out in Printe within these fewe <lb>monethes, than haue bene sene in England many score yeare <lb>before. And bicause our English men made <i>Italians</i>, can not <lb>hurt, but certaine persons, and in certaine places, therfore these <lb><i>Italian</i> bookes are made English, to bryng mischief enough <lb>

<lb>

<lb>232 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>openly and boldly, to all states great and meane, yong and old, <lb>euery where.

<lb> And thus yow see, how will intised to wantonnes, doth <lb>easelie allure the mynde to false opinions: and how corrupt <lb>maners in liuinge, breede false iudgement in doctrine: how sinne <lb>and fleshlines, bring forth sectes and heresies: And therefore <lb>suffer not vaine bookes to breede vanitie in mens willes, if yow <lb>would haue Goddes trothe take roote in mens myndes.

<lb> That Italian, that first inuented the Italian Prouerbe <lb>against our Englishe men Italianated, ment no more their <lb>The Ita- // vanitie in liuing, than their lewd opinion in <lb>lian pro- // Religion. For, in calling them Deuiles, he carieth <lb>uerbe ex- // them cleane from God: and yet he carieth them <lb>pounded. // no farder, than they willinglie go themselues, <lb>that is, where they may freely say their mindes, to the open <lb>contempte of God and all godlines, both in liuing and doctrine.

<lb> And how? I will expresse how, not by a Fable of <i>Homere</i>, <lb>nor by the Philosophie of <i>Plato</i>, but by a plaine troth of <lb>Goddes word, sensiblie vttered by <i>Dauid</i> thus. Thies men, <lb><i>abhominabiles facti in studijs suis</i>, thinke verily, and singe <lb>gladlie the verse before, <i>Dixit insipiens in Corde suo, non est</i>

<lb><i>Psa.</i> 14. // <i>Deus:</i> that is to say, they geuing themselues vp to <lb>vanitie, shakinge of the motions of Grace, driuing <lb>from them the feare of God, and running headlong into all <lb>sinne, first, lustelie contemne God, than scornefullie mocke his <lb>worde, and also spitefullie hate and hurte all well willers <lb>thereof. Than they haue in more reuerence, the triumphes of <lb>Petrarche: than the Genesis of Moses: They make more <lb>accounte of <i>Tullies</i> offices, than <i>S. Paules</i> epistles: of a tale in <lb><i>Bocace</i>, than a storie of the Bible. Than they counte as <lb>Fables, the holie misteries of Christian Religion. They make <lb>Christ and his Gospell, onelie serue Ciuill pollicie: Than <lb>neyther Religion cummeth amisse to them: In tyme they be <lb>Promoters of both openlie: in place againe mockers of both <lb>priuilie, as I wrote once in a rude ryme.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Now new, now olde, now both, now neither, <lb> To serue the worldes course, they care not with whether.</i>

<lb>

<lb> For where they dare, in cumpanie where they like, they <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 233

<lb>

<lb>boldlie laughe to scorne both protestant and Papist. They <lb>care for no scripture: They make no counte of generall <lb>councels: they contemne the consent of the Chirch: They passe <lb>for no Doctores: They mocke the Pope: They raile on <i>Luther</i>: <lb>They allow neyther side: They like none, but onelie <lb>themselues: The marke they shote at, the ende they looke for, <lb>the heauen they desire, is onelie, their owne present pleasure, <lb>and priuate proffit: whereby, they plainlie declare, of whose <lb>schole, of what Religion they be: that is, Epicures in liuing, <lb>and atheoi in doctrine: this last worde, is no more vnknowne <lb>now to plaine English men, than the Person was vnknown <lb>somtyme in England, vntill som Englishe man tooke peines, to <lb>fetch that deuelish opinion out of Italie. Thies men, thus <lb>Italianated abroad, can not abide our Godlie // The Ita-

<lb>Italian Chirch at home: they be not of that // lian Chirche <lb>Parish, they be not of that felowshyp: they like // in London.

<lb>not y<sup>t</sup> preacher: they heare not his sermons: Excepte som-

<lb>tymes for companie, they cum thither, to heare the Italian tonge <lb>naturally spoken, not to hear Gods doctrine trewly preached.

<lb> And yet, thies men, in matters of Diuinitie, openlie pretend <lb>a great knowledge, and haue priuatelie to them selues, a verie <lb>compendious vnderstanding of all, which neuertheles they will <lb>vtter when and where they liste: And that is this: All the <lb>misteries of <i>Moses</i>, the whole lawe and Cerimonies, the <lb>Psalmes and Prophetes, Christ and his Gospell, GOD and the <lb>Deuill, Heauen and Hell, Faith, Conscience, Sinne, Death, and <lb>all they shortlie wrap vp, they quickly expounde with this one <lb>halfe verse of <i>Horace</i>.

<lb> <i>Credat Iudæus Appella.</i>

<lb> Yet though in Italie they may freely be of no Religion, as <lb>they are in Englande in verie deede to, neuerthelesse returning <lb>home into England they must countenance the profession of <lb>the one or the other, howsoeuer inwardlie, they laugh to <lb>scorne both. And though, for their priuate matters they can <lb>follow, fawne, and flatter noble Personages, contrarie to them <lb>in all respectes, yet commonlie they allie them- // Papistrie <lb>selues with the worst Papistes, to whom they be // and impie-

<lb>wedded, and do well agree togither in three // tie agree in <lb>proper opinions: In open contempte of Goddes // three opini-

<lb>worde: in a secret securitie of sinne: and in // ons.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>234 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>a bloodie desire to haue all taken away, by sword or burning, <lb><i>Pigius.</i> // that be not of their faction. They that do <lb>read, with indifferent iudgement, <i>Pygius</i> and <lb><i>Machiaue-</i> // <i>Machiauel,/i>, two indifferent Patriarches of thies <lb><i>lus.</i> // two Religions, do know full well that I say trewe.

<lb> Ye see, what manners and doctrine, our Englishe men fetch <lb>out of Italie: For finding no other there, they can bring no <lb>Wise and // other hither. And therefore, manie godlie and <lb>honest tra- // excellent learned Englishe men, not manie yeares <lb>uelers. // ago, did make a better choice, whan open crueltie <lb>draue them out of this contrie, to place themselues there, where <lb><i>Germanie.</i> // Christes doctrine, the feare of God, punishment <lb>of sinne, and discipline of honestie, were had in <lb>speciall regarde.

<lb> I was once in Italie my selfe: but I thanke God, my <lb><i>Venice.</i> // abode there, was but ix. dayes: And yet I sawe <lb>in that litle tyme, in one Citie, more libertie to <lb>sinne, than euer I hard tell of in our noble Citie of London in <lb><i>London.</i> // ix. yeare. I sawe, it was there, as free to sinne, <lb>not onelie without all punishment, but also

<lb>without any mans marking, as it is free in the Citie of London, <lb>to chose, without all blame, whether a man lust to weare Shoo <lb>or pantocle. And good cause why: For being vnlike in troth <lb>of Religion, they must nedes be vnlike in honestie of liuing.

<lb>Seruice of // For blessed be Christ, in our Citie of London, <lb>God in // commonlie the commandementes of God, be more <lb>England. // diligentlie taught, and the seruice of God more <lb>reuerentlie vsed, and that daylie in many priuate mens houses, <lb>Seruice of // than they be in Italie once a weeke in their <lb>God in I- // common Chirches: where, masking Ceremonies, <lb>talie. // to delite the eye, and vaine soundes, to please <lb>the eare, do quite thrust out of the Chirches, all seruice of <lb>The Lord // God in spirit and troth. Yea, the Lord Maior <lb>Maior of // of London, being but a Ciuill officer, is com-

<lb>London. // monlie for his tyme, more diligent, in punishing <lb>sinne, the bent enemie against God and good order, than all <lb>The In- // the bloodie Inquisitors in Italie be in seauen yeare.

<lb>quisitors in // For, their care and charge is, not to punish <lb>Italie. // sinne, not to amend manners, not to purge <lb>doctrine, but onelie to watch and ouersee that Christes trewe <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 235

<lb>

<lb>Religion set no sure footing, where the Pope hath any <lb>Iurisdiction. I learned, when I was at <i>Venice</i>, that there it is <lb>counted good pollicie, when there be foure or fiue // An ungod-

<lb>brethren of one familie, one, onelie to marie: & // lie pollicie.

<lb>all the rest, to waulter, with as litle shame, in <lb>open lecherie, as Swyne do here in the common myre. Yea, <lb>there be as fayre houses of Religion, as great prouision, as <lb>diligent officers, to kepe vp this misorder, as Bridewell is, and <lb>all the Masters there, to kepe downe misorder. And therefore, <lb>if the Pope himselfe, do not onelie graunt pardons to furder <lb>thies wicked purposes abrode in Italie, but also (although this <lb>present Pope, in the beginning, made som shewe of misliking <lb>thereof) assigne both meede and merite to the maintenance of <lb>stewes and brothelhouses at home in Rome, than let wise men <lb>thinke Italie a safe place for holsom doctrine, and godlie <lb>manners, and a fitte schole for yong ientlemen of England to <lb>be brought vp in.

<lb> Our Italians bring home with them other faultes from <lb>Italie, though not so great as this of Religion, yet a great deale <lb>greater, than many good men can well beare. For commonlie <lb>they cum home, common contemners of mariage // Contempt <lb>and readie persuaders of all other to the same: // of mariage.

<lb>not because they loue virginitie, but, being free in Italie, to go <lb>whither so euer lust will cary them, they do not like, that lawe <lb>and honestie should be soch a barre to their like libertie at <lb>home in England. And yet they be, the greatest makers of <lb>loue, the daylie daliers, with such pleasant wordes, with such <lb>smilyng and secret countenances, with such signes, tokens, <lb>wagers, purposed to be lost, before they were purposed to be <lb>made, with bargaines of wearing colours, floures, and herbes, <lb>to breede occasion of ofter meeting of him and her, and bolder <lb>talking of this and that &c. And although I haue seene some, <lb>innocent of all ill, and stayde in all honestie, that haue vsed <lb>these thinges without all harme, without all suspicion of harme, <lb>yet these knackes were brought first into England by them, <lb>that learned them before in <i>Italie</i> in <i>Circes</i> Court: and how <lb>Courtlie curtesses so euer they be counted now, yet, if the <lb>meaning and maners of some that do vse them, were somewhat <lb>

<lb>

<lb>236 <i>The first booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>amended, it were no great hurt, neither to them selues, nor to <lb>others.

<lb> An other propertie of this our English <i>Italians</i> is, to be <lb>meruelous singular in all their matters: Singular in knowledge, <lb>ignorant of nothyng: So singular in wisedome (in their owne <lb>opinion) as scarse they counte the best Counsellor the Prince <lb>hath, comparable to them: Common discoursers of all <lb>matters: busie searchers of most secret affaires: open flatterers <lb>of great men: priuie mislikers of good men: Faire speakers, <lb>with smiling countenances, and much curtessie openlie to all <lb>men. Ready bakbiters, sore nippers, and spitefull reporters <lb>priuilie of good men. And beyng brought vp in <i>Italie</i>, in some <lb>free Citie, as all Cities be there: where a man may freelie <lb>discourse against what he will, against whom he lust: against <lb>any Prince, agaynst any gouernement, yea against God him <lb>selfe, and his whole Religion: where he must be, either <lb><i>Guelphe</i> or <i>Gibiline</i>, either <i>French</i> or <i>Spanish</i>: and alwayes <lb>compelled to be of some partie, of some faction, he shall neuer <lb>be compelled to be of any Religion: And if he medle not ouer <lb>much with Christes true Religion, he shall haue free libertie to <lb>embrace all Religions, and becum, if he lust at once, without <lb>any let or punishment, Iewish, Turkish, Papish, and Deuillish.

<lb> A yong Ientleman, thus bred vp in this goodly schole, to <lb>learne the next and readie way to sinne, to haue a busie head, <lb>a factious hart, a talkatiue tonge, fed with discoursing of <lb>factions: led to contemne God and his Religion, shall cum <lb>home into England, but verie ill taught, either to be an honest <lb>man him self, a quiet subiect to his Prince, or willyng to serue <lb>God, vnder the obedience of trewe doctrine, or within the <lb>order of honest liuing.

<lb> I know, none will be offended with this my generall <lb>writing, but onelie such, as finde them selues giltie priuatelie <lb>therin: who shall haue good leaue to be offended with me, <lb>vntill they begin to amende them selues. I touch not them <lb>that be good: and I say to litle of them that be nought. And <lb>so, though not enough for their deseruing, yet sufficientlie for <lb>this time, and more els when, if occasion so require.

<lb> And thus farre haue I wandred from my first purpose of <lb>teaching a child, yet not altogether out of the way, bicause <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the brynging vp of youth.</i> 237

<lb>

<lb>this whole taulke hath tended to the onelie aduauncement of <lb>trothe in Religion, and honestie of liuing: and hath bene wholie <lb>within the compasse of learning and good maners, the speciall <lb>pointes belonging in the right bringyng vp of youth.

<lb> But to my matter, as I began, plainlie and simplie <lb>with my yong Scholer, so will I not leaue him,

<lb>God willing, vntill I haue brought him a per-

<lb>fite Scholer out of the Schole, and placed

<lb>him in the Vniuersitie, to becum a fitte

<lb>student, for Logicke and Rhetoricke:

<lb>and so after to Phisicke, Law, or

<lb>Diuinitie, as aptnes of na-

<lb>ture, aduise of frendes, and

<lb>Gods disposition shall

<lb>lead him.

<lb>

<lb><i>The ende of the first booke.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>The second booke.</i>

<lb>

<lb>AFter that your scholer, as I sayd before, shall cum in <lb>deede, first, to a readie perfitnes in translating, than, to a <lb>ripe and skilfull choice in markyng out hys sixe pointes, as, <lb> {1. <i>Proprium.</i>

<lb> {2. <i>Translatum.</i>

<lb> {3. <i>Synonymum.</i>

<lb> {4. <i>Contrarium.</i>

<lb> {5. <i>Diuersum.</i>

<lb> {6. <i>Phrases.</i>

<lb> Than take this order with him: Read dayly vnto him, <lb><i>Cicero.</i> // some booke of <i>Tullie</i>, as the third booke of <lb><i>de Senectute</i>, Epistles chosen out by <i>Sturmius, de Amicitia</i>, <lb>or that excellent Epistle conteinyng almost the

<lb>whole first book <i>ad Q. fra</i>: some Comedie of <lb><i>Terentius.</i> // <i>Terence</i> or <i>Plautus</i>: but in <i>Plautus</i>, skilfull choice

<lb><i>Plautus.</i> // must be vsed by the master, to traine his Scholler <lb>to a iudgement, in cutting out perfitelie ouer old and vnproper <lb><i>Iul. Cæsar.</i> // wordes: <i>Cæs. Commentaries</i> are to be read with <lb>all curiositie, in specially without all exception to <lb>be made, either by frende or foe, is seene, the vnspotted <lb>proprietie of the Latin tong, euen whan it was, as the <i>Grecians</i>

<lb>say, in akme, that is, at the hiest pitch of all perfitenesse: or <lb><i>T. Liuius.</i> // some Orations of <i>T. Liuius</i>, such as be both longest <lb>and plainest.

<lb> These bookes, I would haue him read now, a good deale at <lb>euery lecture: for he shall not now vse dalie translation, but <lb>onely construe againe, and parse, where ye suspect, is any nede: <lb>yet, let him not omitte in these bookes, his former exercise, in <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>The ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 239

<lb>

<lb>marking diligently, and writyng orderlie out his six pointes.

<lb>And for translating, vse you your selfe, euery second or thyrd <lb>day, to chose out, some Epistle <i>ad Atticum</i>, some notable <lb>common place out of his Orations, or some other part of <lb><i>Tullie</i>, by your discretion, which your scholer may not know <lb>where to finde: and translate it you your selfe, into plaine <lb>naturall English, and than giue it him to translate into Latin <lb>againe: allowyng him good space and tyme to do it, both with <lb>diligent heede, and good aduisement. Here his witte shalbe <lb>new set on worke: his iudgement, for right choice, trewlie <lb>tried: his memorie, for sure reteyning, better exercised, than <lb>by learning, any thing without the booke: & here, how much <lb>he hath proffited, shall plainly appeare. Whan he bringeth it <lb>translated vnto you, bring you forth the place of <i>Tullie</i>: lay <lb>them together: compare the one with the other: commend his <lb>good choice, & right placing of wordes: Shew his faultes iently, <lb>but blame them not ouer sharply: for, of such missings, ientlie <lb>admonished of, proceedeth glad & good heed taking: of good <lb>heed taking, springeth chiefly knowledge, which after, groweth <lb>to perfitnesse, if this order, be diligentlie vsed by the scholer &

<lb>iently handled by the master: for here, shall all the hard <lb>pointes of Grammer, both easely and surelie be learned vp: <lb>which, scholers in common scholes, by making of Latines, be <lb>groping at, with care & feare, & yet in many yeares, they <lb>scarse can reach vnto them. I remember, whan I was yong, <lb>in the North, they went to the Grammer schole, litle children: <lb>they came from thence great lubbers: alwayes learning, and <lb>litle profiting: learning without booke, euery thing, vnder-

<lb>standyng within the booke, litle or nothing: Their whole <lb>knowledge, by learning without the booke, was tied onely to <lb>their tong & lips, and neuer ascended vp to the braine & head, <lb>and therfore was sone spitte out of the mouth againe: They <lb>were, as men, alwayes goyng, but euer out of the way: and <lb>why? For their whole labor, or rather great toyle without <lb>order, was euen vaine idlenesse without proffit. In deed, <lb>they tooke great paynes about learning: but employed small <lb>labour in learning: Whan by this way prescribed in this <lb>booke, being streight, plaine, & easie, the scholer is alwayes <lb>laboring with pleasure, and euer going right on forward with <lb>proffit: always laboring I say, for, or he haue construed <lb>

<lb>

<lb>240 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>parced, twise translated ouer by good aduisement, marked out <lb>his six pointes by skilfull iudgement, he shall haue necessarie <lb>occasion, to read ouer euery lecture, a dosen tymes, at the <lb>least. Which, bicause he shall do alwayes in order, he shall do <lb>it alwayes with pleasure: And pleasure allureth loue: loue hath <lb>lust to labor: labor alwayes obteineth his purpose, as most <lb>Rhet. 2 // trewly, both <i>Aristotle</i> in his Rhetoricke & <i>Oedipus</i>

<lb>In Oedip. Tyr. // in <i>Sophocles</i> do teach, saying, pan gar ekponou-

<lb>Epist. lib. 7. // menon aliske. <i>et. cet.</i> & this oft reading, is the <lb>verie right folowing, of that good Counsell, which <lb><i>Plinie</i> doth geue to his frende <i>Fuscus</i>, saying, <i>Multum, non <lb>multa</i>. But to my purpose againe:

<lb> Whan, by this diligent and spedie reading ouer, those <lb>forenamed good bokes of <i>Tullie, Terence, Cæsar</i>, and <i>Liuie</i>, and <lb>by this second kinde of translating out of your English, tyme <lb>shall breed skill, and vse shall bring perfection, than ye may <lb>trie, if you will, your scholer, with the third kinde of translation: <lb>although the two first wayes, by myne opinion, be, not onelie <lb>sufficent of them selues, but also surer, both for the Masters <lb>teaching, and scholers learnyng, than this third way is: Which <lb>is thus. Write you in English, some letter, as it were from <lb>him to his father, or to some other frende, naturallie, according <lb>to the disposition of the child, or some tale, or fable, or plaine <lb>narration, according as <i>Aphthonius</i> beginneth his exercises of <lb>learning, and let him translate it into Latin againe, abiding in <lb>soch place, where no other scholer may prompe him. But yet, <lb>vse you your selfe soch discretion for choice therein, as the <lb>matter may be within the compas, both for wordes and <lb>sentences, of his former learning and reading. And now <lb>take heede, lest your scholer do not better in some point, than <lb>you your selfe, except ye haue bene diligentlie exercised in these <lb>kindes of translating before:

<lb> I had once a profe hereof, tried by good experience, by <lb>a deare frende of myne, whan I came first from Cambrige, to <lb>serue the Queenes Maiestie, than Ladie <i>Elizabeth</i>, lying at <lb>worthie Syr <i>Ant. Denys</i> in Cheston. <i>Iohn Whitneye</i>, a yong <lb>ientleman, was my bedfeloe, who willyng by good nature and <lb>prouoked by mine aduise, began to learne the Latin tong, after <lb>the order declared in this booke. We began after Christmas: <lb>I read vnto him <i>Tullie de Amicitia</i>, which he did euerie day <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 241

<lb>

<lb>twise translate, out of Latin into English, and out of English <lb>into Latin agayne. About S. Laurence tyde after, to proue <lb>how he proffited, I did chose out <i>Torquatus</i> taulke <i>de Amicitia</i>, <lb>in the later end of the first booke <i>de finib.</i> bicause that place <lb>was, the same in matter, like in wordes and phrases, nigh to <lb>the forme and facion of sentences, as he had learned before in <lb><i>de Amicitia</i>. I did translate it my selfe into plaine English, <lb>and gaue it him to turne into Latin: Which he did, so choislie, <lb>so orderlie, so without any great misse in the hardest pointes of <lb>Grammer, that some, in seuen yeare in Grammer Scholes, yea, <lb>& some in the Vniuersities to, can not do halfe so well. This <lb>worthie yong Ientleman, to my greatest grief, to the great <lb>lamentation of that whole house, and speciallie to that most <lb>noble Ladie, now Queene <i>Elizabeth</i> her selfe, departed within <lb>few dayes, out of this world.

<lb> And if in any cause, a man may without offence of God <lb>speake somewhat vngodlie, surely, it was some grief vnto me, <lb>to see him hie so hastlie to God, as he did. A Court, full of <lb>soch yong Ientlemen, were rather a Paradise than a Court vpon <lb>earth. And though I had neuer Poeticall head, to make any <lb>verse, in any tong, yet either loue, or sorrow, or both, did wring <lb>out of me than, certaine carefull thoughtes of my good will <lb>towardes him, which in my murning for him, fell forth, more <lb>by chance, than either by skill or vse, into this kinde of <lb>misorderlie meter.

<lb>

<lb><i>Myne owne Iohn Whitney, now farewell, now death doth parte vs <lb> twaine,

<lb>No death, but partyng for a while, whom life shall ioyne agayne.

<lb>Therfore my hart cease sighes and sobbes, cease sorowes seede to sow, <lb>Wherof no gaine, but greater grief, and hurtfull care may grow.

<lb>Yet, whan I thinke vpon soch giftes of grace as God him lent, <lb>My losse, his gaine, I must a while, with ioyfull teares lament.

<lb>Yong yeares to yelde soch frute in Court, where seede of vice is sowne, <lb>Is sometime read, in some place seene, amongst vs seldom knowne.

<lb>His life he ledde, Christes lore to learne, with will to worke the <lb> same:

<lb>He read to know, and knew to liue, and liued to praise his name.

<lb>So fast to frende, so foe to few, so good to euery weight, <lb>I may well wishe, but scarcelie hope, agayne to haue in sight.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>242 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb><i>The greater ioye his life to me, his death the greater payne: <lb>His life in Christ so surelie set, doth glad my hearte agayne: <lb>His life so good, his death better, do mingle mirth with care, <lb>My spirit with ioye, my flesh with grief, so deare a frend to spare.

<lb>Thus God the good, while they be good, doth take, and leaues vs ill, <lb>That we should mend our sinfull life, in life to tary still.

<lb>Thus, we well left, be better rest, in heauen to take his place, <lb>That by like life, and death, at last, we may obteine like grace.

<lb>Myne owne Iohn Whiteney agayne fairewell, a while thus parte in <lb> twaine,

<lb>Whom payne doth part in earth, in heauen great ioye shall ioyne <lb> agayne.</i>

<lb>

<lb> In this place, or I procede farder, I will now declare, by <lb>whose authoritie I am led, and by what reason I am moued, to <lb>thinke, that this way of duble translation out of one tong into <lb>an other, in either onelie, or at least chiefly, to be exercised, <lb>speciallie of youth, for the ready and sure obteining of any <lb>tong.

<lb> There be six wayes appointed by the best learned men, for <lb>the learning of tonges, and encreace of eloquence, as <lb>

<lb> {1. <i>Translatio linguarum.</i>

<lb> {2. <i>Paraphrasis.</i>

<lb> {3. <i>Metaphrasis.</i>

<lb> {4. <i>Epitome.</i>

<lb> {5. <i>Imitatio.</i>

<lb> {6. <i>Declamatio.</i>

<lb>

<lb> All theis be vsed, and commended, but in order, and for <lb>respectes: as person, habilitie, place, and tyme shall require.

<lb>The fiue last, be fitter, for the Master, than the scholer: for <lb>men, than for children: for the vniuersities, rather than for <lb>Grammer scholes: yet neuerthelesse, which is, fittest in mine <lb>opinion, for our schole, and which is, either wholie to be <lb>refused, or partlie to be vsed for our purpose, I will, by good <lb>authoritie, and some reason, I trust perticularlie of euerie <lb>one, and largelie enough of them all, declare orderlie vnto you.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 243

<lb>

<lb>¶ <i>Translatio Linguarum.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Translation, is easie in the beginning for the scholer, and <lb>bringeth also moch learning and great iudgement to the <lb>Master. It is most common, and most commendable of all <lb>other exercises for youth: most common, for all your con-

<lb>structions in Grammer scholes, be nothing els but translations: <lb>but because they be not double translations, as I do require, <lb>they bring forth but simple and single commoditie, and bicause <lb>also they lacke the daily vse of writing, which is the onely <lb>thing that breedeth deepe roote, buth in y<sup>e</sup> witte, for good <lb>vnderstanding, and in y<sup>e</sup> memorie, for sure keeping of all that <lb>is learned. Most commendable also, & that by y<sup>e</sup> iudgement of <lb>all authors, which intreate of theis exercises.

<lb><i>Tullie</i> in the person of <i>L. Crassus</i>, whom he // 1. de Or.

<lb>maketh his example of eloquence and trewe iudgement in <lb>learning, doth, not onely praise specially, and chose this way of <lb>translation for a yong man, but doth also discommend and <lb>refuse his owne former wont, in exercising <i>Paraphrasin &

<lb>Metaphrasin. Paraphrasis</i> is, to take some eloquent Oration, <lb>or some notable common place in Latin, and expresse it with <lb>other wordes: <i>Metaphrasis</i> is, to take some notable place out of <lb>a good Poete, and turn the same sens into meter, or into other <lb>wordes in Prose. <i>Crassus</i>, or rather <i>Tullie</i>, doth mislike both <lb>these wayes, bicause the Author, either Orator or Poete, had <lb>chosen out before, the fittest wordes and aptest composition for <lb>that matter, and so he, in seeking other, was driuen to vse the <lb>worse.

<lb> <i>Quintilian</i> also preferreth translation before all other <lb>exercises: yet hauing a lust, to dissent, from // Quint. x.

<lb><i>Tullie</i> (as he doth in very many places, if a man <lb>read his Rhetoricke ouer aduisedlie, and that rather of an <lb>enuious minde, than of any iust cause) doth greatlie commend <lb><i>Paraphrasis</i>, crossing spitefullie <i>Tullies</i> iudgement in refusing <lb>the same: and so do <i>Ramus</i> and <i>Talæus</i> euen at this day in <lb><i>France</i> to. But such singularitie, in dissenting from the best <lb>mens iudgementes, in liking onelie their owne opinions, is <lb>moch misliked of all them, that ioyne with learning, discretion, <lb>and wisedome. For he, that can neither like <i>Aristotle</i> in <lb>Logicke and Philosophie, nor <i>Tullie</i> in Rhetoricke and <lb>

<lb>

<lb>244 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>Eloquence, will, from these steppes, likelie enough presume, by <lb>like pride, to mount hier, to the misliking of greater matters: <lb>that is either in Religion, to haue a dissentious head, or in the <lb>common wealth, to haue a factious hart: as I knew one <lb>a student in Cambrige, who, for a singularitie, began first to <lb>dissent, in the scholes, from <i>Aristotle</i>, and sone after became <lb>a peruerse <i>Arrian</i>, against Christ and all true Religion: and <lb>studied diligentlie <i>Origene, Basileus</i>, and <i>S. Hierome</i>, onelie to <lb>gleane out of their workes, the pernicious heresies of <i>Celsus, <lb>Eunomius</i>, and <i>Heluidius</i>, whereby the Church of Christ, was so <lb>poysoned withall.

<lb> But to leaue these hye pointes of diuinitie, surelie, in this <lb>quiet and harmeles controuersie, for the liking, or misliking of <lb><i>Paraphrasis</i> for a yong scholer, euen as far, as <i>Tullie</i> goeth <lb>beyond <i>Quintilian, Ramus</i>, and <i>Talæus</i>, in perfite Eloquence, <lb>* Plinius // euen so moch, by myne opinion, cum they <lb>Secundus. // behinde <i>Tullie</i>, for trew iudgement in teaching <lb>Plinius de- // the same.

<lb>dit Quin- // * <i>Plinius Secundus</i>, a wise Senator, of great <lb>tiliano // experience, excellentlie learned him selfe, a liberall <lb>præceptori // Patrone of learned men, and the purest writer, in <lb>suo, in ma- // myne opinion, of all his age, I except not <lb>trimonium // <i>Suetonius</i>, his two scholemasters <i>Quintilian</i> and <lb>filiæ, 50000 // <i>Tacitus</i>, nor yet his most excellent learned Vncle, the Elder <lb>numum. // <i>Plinius</i>, doth expresse in an Epistle to his frende <lb>Epist. lib. 7, // <i>Fuscus</i>, many good wayes for order in studie: <lb>Epist. 9. // but he beginneth with translation, and preferreth <lb>it to all the rest: and bicause his wordes be notable, I will <lb>recite them.

<lb>

<lb>Vtile in primis, vt multi præcipiunt, ex Græco in Latinum, & ex <lb> Latino vertere in Græcum: Quo genere exercitationis, proprietas <lb> splendorque verborum, apta structura sententiarum, figurarum <lb> copia & explicandi vis colligitur. Præterea, imitatione optimorum, <lb> facultas similia inueniendi paratur: & quæ legentem, fefellissent, <lb> transferentem fugere non possunt. Intelligentia ex hoc, & iudicium <lb> acquiritur.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Ye perceiue, how <i>Plinie</i> teacheth, that by this exercise of <lb>double translating, is learned, easely, sensiblie, by litle and litle, <lb>not onelie all the hard congruities of Grammer, the choice of <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 245

<lb>

<lb>aptest wordes, the right framing of wordes and sentences, <lb>cumlines of figures and formes, fitte for euerie matter, and <lb>proper for euerie tong, but that which is greater also, in marking <lb>dayly, and folowing diligentlie thus, the steppes of the best <lb>Autors, like inuention of Argumentes, like order in disposition, <lb>like vtterance in Elocution, is easelie gathered vp: whereby <lb>your scholer shall be brought not onelie to like eloquence, but <lb>also, to all trewe vnderstanding and right iudgement, both for <lb>writing and speaking. And where <i>Dionys. Halicarnassæus</i> hath <lb>written two excellent bookes, the one, <i>de delectu optimorum <lb>verborum</i>, the which, I feare, is lost, the other, of the right <lb>framing of wordes and sentences, which doth remaine yet in <lb>Greeke, to the great proffet of all them, that trewlie studie for <lb>eloquence, yet this waie of double translating, shall bring the <lb>whole proffet of both these bookes to a diligent scholer, and that <lb>easelie and pleasantlie, both for fitte choice of wordes, and apt <lb>composition of sentences. And by theis authorities and reasons <lb>am I moued to thinke, this waie of double translating, either <lb>onelie or chieflie, to be fittest, for the spedy and perfit atteyning <lb>of any tong. And for spedy atteyning, I durst venture a good <lb>wager, if a scholer, in whom is aptnes, loue, diligence, &

<lb>constancie, would but translate, after this sorte, one litle booke <lb>in <i>Tullie</i>, as <i>de senectute</i>, with two Epistles, the first <i>ad Q. fra:</i>

<lb>the other <i>ad lentulum</i>, the last saue one, in the first booke, that <lb>scholer, I say, should cum to a better knowledge in the Latin <lb>tong, than the most part do, that spend foure or fiue yeares, in <lb>tossing all the rules of Grammer in common scholes. In deede <lb>this one booke with these two Epistles, is not sufficient to <lb>affourde all Latin wordes (which is not necessarie for a yong <lb>scholer to know) but it is able to furnishe him fully, for all <lb>pointes of Grammer, with the right placing ordering, & vse of <lb>wordes in all kinde of matter. And why not? for it is read, <lb>that <i>Dion. Prussæus</i>, that wise Philosopher, & excellent orator of <lb>all his tyme, did cum to the great learning & vtterance that was <lb>in him, by reading and folowing onelie two bookes, <i>Phædon <lb>Platonis</i>, and <i>Demosthenes</i> most notable oration peri parapres-

<lb>beias. And a better, and nerer example herein, may be, our <lb>most noble Queene <i>Elizabeth</i>, who neuer toke yet, Greeke nor <lb>Latin Grammer in her hand, after the first declining of a <lb>nowne and a verbe, but onely by this double translating of <lb>

<lb>

<lb>246 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb><i>Demosthenes</i> and <i>Isocrates</i> dailie without missing euerie forenone, <lb>and likewise som part of Tullie euery afternone, for the space <lb>of a yeare or two, hath atteyned to soch a perfite vnderstanding <lb>in both the tonges, and to soch a readie vtterance of the latin, <lb>and that wyth soch a iudgement, as they be fewe in nomber in <lb>both the vniuersities, or els where in England, that be, in both <lb>tonges, comparable with her Maiestie. And to conclude in <lb>a short rowme, the commodities of double translation, surelie <lb>the mynde by dailie marking, first, the cause and matter: than, <lb>the wordes and phrases: next, the order and composition: after <lb>the reason and argumentes: than the formes and figures of both <lb>the tonges: lastelie, the measure and compas of euerie sentence, <lb>must nedes, by litle and litle drawe vnto it the like shape of <lb>eloquence, as the author doth vse, which is red.

<lb> And thus much for double translation.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>Paraphrasis.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Paraphrasis</i>, the second point, is not onelie to expresse at <lb>Lib. x. // large with moe wordes, but to striue and contend <lb>(as <i>Quintilian</i> saith) to translate the best latin <lb>authors, into other latin wordes, as many or thereaboutes.

<lb> This waie of exercise was vsed first by <i>C. Crabo</i>, and taken <lb>vp for a while, by <i>L. Crassus</i>, but sone after, vpon dewe profe <lb>thereof, reiected iustlie by <i>Crassus</i> and <i>Cicero</i>: yet allowed and <lb>made sterling agayne by <i>M. Quintilian:</i> neuerthelesse, shortlie <lb>after, by better assaye, disalowed of his owne scholer <i>Plinius <lb>Secundus</i>, who termeth it rightlie thus <i>Audax contentio</i>. It is <lb>a bold comparison in deede, to thinke to say better, than that is <lb>best. Soch turning of the best into worse, is much like the <lb>turning of good wine, out of a faire sweete flagon of siluer, into <lb>a foule mustie bottell of ledder: or, to turne pure gold and <lb>siluer, into foule brasse and copper.

<lb> Such kinde of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, in turning, chopping, and <lb>changing, the best to worse, either in the mynte or scholes, <lb>(though <i>M. Brokke</i> and <i>Quintilian</i> both say the contrary) is <lb>moch misliked of the best and wisest men. I can better allow <lb>an other kinde of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, to turne rude and barbarus, into <lb>proper and eloquent: which neuerthelesse is an exercise, not <lb>fitte for a scholer, but for a perfite master, who in plentie hath <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 247

<lb>

<lb>good choise, in copie hath right iudgement, and grounded skill, <lb>as did appeare to be in <i>Sebastian Castalio</i>, in translating <i>Kemppes</i>

<lb>booke <i>de Imitando Christo</i>.

<lb> But to folow <i>Quintilianus</i> aduise for <i>Paraphrasis</i>, were euen <lb>to take paine, to seeke the worse and fowler way, whan the <lb>plaine and fairer is occupied before your eyes.

<lb> The olde and best authors that euer wrote, were content <lb>if occasion required to speake twise of one matter, not to change <lb>the wordes, but rhetos, that is, worde for worde to expresse it <lb>againe. For they thought, that a matter, well expressed with <lb>fitte wordes and apt composition, was not to be altered, but <lb>liking it well their selues, they thought it would also be well <lb>allowed of others.

<lb> A scholemaster (soch one as I require) knoweth that I say <lb>trewe.

<lb> He readeth in <i>Homer</i>, almost in euerie booke, and speciallie <lb>in <i>Secundo et nono Iliados</i>, not onelie som verses, // <i>Homerus.</i>

<lb>but whole leaues, not to be altered with new, // {2.

<lb>but to be vttered with the old selfe same wordes. // {IL. {

<lb> He knoweth, that <i>Xenophon</i>, writing twise of // {9.

<lb><i>Agesilaus</i>, once in his life, againe in the historie // <i>Xenophon.</i>

<lb>of the Greekes, in one matter, kepeth alwayes the selfe same <lb>wordes. He doth the like, speaking of <i>Socrates</i>, both in the <lb>beginning of his Apologie and in the last ende of apomnemoneu-

<lb>maton.

<lb> <i>Demosthenes</i> also in 4. <i>Philippica</i> doth borow his owne <lb>wordes vttered before in his oration <i>de Chersoneso</i>.

<lb>He doth the like, and that more at large, in his // <i>Demost-</i>

<lb>orations, against <i>Androtion</i> and <i>Timocrates</i>. // <i>henes.</i>

<lb> In latin also, <i>Cicero</i> in som places, and <i>Virgil</i> in mo, do <lb>repeate one matter, with the selfe same wordes. // <i>Cicero.</i>

<lb>Thies excellent authors, did thus, not for lacke // <i>Virgilius.</i>

<lb>of wordes, but by iudgement and skill: whatso-

<lb>euer, other, more curious, and lesse skilfull, do thinke, write, <lb>and do.

<lb> <i>Paraphrasis</i> neuerthelesse hath good place in learning, but <lb>not, by myne opinion, for any scholer, but is onelie to be left <lb>to a perfite Master, eyther to expound openlie a good author <lb>withall, or to compare priuatelie, for his owne exercise, how <lb>some notable place of an excellent author, may be vttered with <lb>

<lb>

<lb>248 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>other fitte wordes: But if ye alter also, the composition, forme, <lb>and order than that is not <i>Paraphrasis</i>, but <i>Imitatio</i>, as I will <lb>fullie declare in fitter place.

<lb> The scholer shall winne nothing by <i>Paraphrasis</i>, but onelie, <lb>if we may beleue <i>Tullie</i>, to choose worse wordes, to place them <lb>out of order, to feare ouermoch the iudgement of the master, to <lb>mislike ouermuch the hardnes of learning, and by vse, to gather <lb>vp faultes, which hardlie will be left of againe.

<lb> The master in teaching it, shall rather encrease hys owne <lb>labor, than his scholers proffet: for when the scholer shall bring <lb>vnto his master a peece of <i>Tullie</i> or <i>Cæsar</i> turned into other <lb>latin, then must the master cum to <i>Quintilians</i> goodlie lesson <i>de <lb>Emendatione</i>, which, (as he saith) is the most profitable part of <lb>teaching, but not in myne opinion, and namelie for youthe in <lb>Grammer scholes. For the master nowe taketh double paynes: <lb>first, to marke what is amisse: againe, to inuent what may be <lb>sayd better. And here perchance, a verie good master may <lb>easelie both deceiue himselfe, and lead his scholer into error.

<lb> It requireth greater learning, and deeper iudgement, than is <lb>to be hoped for at any scholemasters hand: that is, to be able <lb>alwaies learnedlie and perfitelie

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Mutare quod ineptum est:</i>

<lb> {<i>Transmutare quod peruersum est:</i>

<lb> {<i>Replere quod deest;</i>

<lb> {<i>Detrahere quod obest:</i>

<lb> {<i>Expungere quod inane est.</i>

<lb>

<lb> And that, which requireth more skill, and deaper conside-

<lb>racion

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Premere tumentia:</i>

<lb> {<i>Extollere humilia:</i>

<lb> {<i>Astringere luxuriantia:</i>

<lb> {<i>Componere dissoluta.</i>

<lb>

<lb> The master may here onelie stumble, and perchance faull in <lb>teaching, to the marring and mayning of the Scholer in learning, <lb>whan it is a matter, of moch readyng, of great learning, and <lb>tried iudgement, to make trewe difference betwixt <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 249

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Sublime, et Tumidum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Grande, et immodicum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Decorum, et ineptum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Perfectum, et nimium.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Some men of our time, counted perfite Maisters of eloquence, <lb>in their owne opinion the best, in other mens iudgements very <lb>good, as <i>Omphalius</i> euerie where, <i>Sadoletus</i> in many places, yea <lb>also my frende <i>Osorius</i>, namelie in his Epistle to the Queene &

<lb>in his whole booke <i>de Iusticia</i>, haue so ouer reached them selues, <lb>in making trew difference in the poyntes afore rehearsed, as <lb>though they had bene brought vp in some schole in <i>Asia</i>, to <lb>learne to decline rather then in <i>Athens</i> with <i>Plato, Aristotle</i>, and <lb><i>Demosthenes</i>, (from whence <i>Tullie</i> fetched his eloquence) to <lb>vnderstand, what in euerie matter, to be spoken or written on, <lb>is, in verie deede, <i>Nimium, Satis, Parum</i>, that is for to say, to <lb>all considerations, <i>Decorum</i>, which, as it is the hardest point, in <lb>all learning, so is it the fairest and onelie marke, that scholers, in <lb>all their studie, must alwayes shote at, if they purpose an other <lb>day to be, either sounde in Religion, or wise and discrete in any <lb>vocation of the common wealth.

<lb> Agayne, in the lowest degree, it is no low point of learnyng <lb>and iudgement for a Scholemaster, to make trewe difference <lb>betwixt

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Humile & depressum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Lene & remissum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Siccum & aridum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Exile & macrum:</i>

<lb> {<i>Inaffectatum & neglectum.</i>

<lb>

<lb> In these poyntes, some, louing <i>Melancthon</i> well, as he was <lb>well worthie, but yet not considering well nor wiselie, how he <lb>of nature, and all his life and studie by iudgement was wholly <lb>spent in <i>genere Disciplinabili</i>, that is, in teaching, reading, and <lb>expounding plainlie and aptlie schole matters, and therfore <lb>imployed thereunto a fitte, sensible, and caulme kinde of <lb>speaking and writing, some I say, with very well louyng, <lb>but not with verie well weying <i>Melancthones</i> doinges, <lb>do frame them selues a style, cold, leane, and weake, <lb>though the matter be neuer so warme & earnest, not moch <lb>vnlike vnto one, that had a pleasure, in a roughe, raynie, winter <lb>

<lb>

<lb>250 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>day, to clothe him selfe with nothing els, but a demie, bukram <lb>cassok, plaine without plites, and single with out lyning: which <lb>will neither beare of winde nor wether, nor yet kepe out the <lb>sunne, in any hote day.

<lb> Some suppose, and that by good reason, that <i>Melancthon</i>

<lb>Paraphra- // him selfe came to this low kinde of writing, by <lb>sis in vse of // vsing ouer moch <i>Paraphrasis</i> in reading: For <lb>teaching, // studying therebie to make euerie thing streight <lb>hath hurt // and easie, in smothing and playning all things to <lb><i>Melanch-</i> // much, neuer leaueth, whiles the sence it selfe be <lb><i>tons</i> stile in // left, both lowse and lasie. And some of those <lb>writing. // <i>Paraphrasis of Melancthon</i> be set out in Printe, as, <lb><i>Pro Archia Poeta, & Marco Marcello:</i> But a scholer, by myne <lb>opinion, is better occupied in playing or sleping, than in <lb>spendyng time, not onelie vainlie but also harmefullie, in soch <lb>a kinde of exercise.

<lb> If a Master woulde haue a perfite example to folow, how, <lb>in <i>Genere sublimi</i>, to auoide <i>Nimium</i>, or in <i>Mediocri</i>, to atteyne <lb><i>Satis</i>, or in <i>Humili</i>, to exchew <i>Parum</i>, let him read diligently <lb><i>Cicero.</i> // for the first, <i>Secundam Philippicam</i>, for the meane, <lb><i>De Natura Deorum</i>, and for the lowest, <i>Partitiones</i>.

<lb>Or, if in an other tong, ye looke for like example, in like <lb><i>Demost-</i> // perfection, for all those three degrees, read <i>Pro</i>

<lb><i>henes.</i> // <i>Ctesiphonte, Ad Leptinem, & Contra Olympiodorum</i>, <lb>and, what witte, Arte, and diligence is hable to

<lb>affourde, ye shall plainely see.

<lb> For our tyme, the odde man to performe all three perfitlie, <lb>whatsoeuer he doth, and to know the way to do them skilfullie, <lb><i>Ioan. Stur.</i> // what so euer he list, is, in my poore opinion, <lb><i>Ioannes Sturmius</i>.

<lb> He also councelleth all scholers to beware of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, <lb>except it be, from worse to better, from rude and barbarous, to <lb>proper and pure latin, and yet no man to exercise that neyther, <lb>except soch one, as is alreadie furnished with plentie of learning, <lb>and grounded with stedfast iudgement before.

<lb> All theis faultes, that thus manie wise men do finde with <lb>the exercise of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, in turning the best latin, into other, <lb>as good as they can, that is, ye may be sure, into a great deale <lb>worse, than it was, both in right choice for proprietie, and trewe <lb>placing, for good order is committed also commonlie in all <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 251

<lb>

<lb>common scholes, by the scholemasters, in tossing and trobling <lb>yong wittes (as I sayd in the beginning) with that boocherlie <lb>feare in making of Latins.

<lb> Therefore, in place, of Latines for yong scholers, and of <lb><i>Paraphrasis</i> for the masters, I wold haue double translation <lb>specially vsed. For, in double translating a perfite peece of <lb><i>Tullie</i> or <i>Cæsar</i>, neyther the scholer in learning, nor y<sup>e</sup>

Master

<lb>in teaching can erre. A true tochstone, a sure metwand lieth <lb>before both their eyes. For, all right congruitie: proprietie of <lb>wordes: order in sentences: the right imitation, to inuent good <lb>matter, to dispose it in good order, to confirme it with good <lb>reason, to expresse any purpose fitlie and orderlie, is learned <lb>thus, both easelie & perfitlie: Yea, to misse somtyme in this <lb>kinde of translation, bringeth more proffet, than to hit right, <lb>either in <i>Paraphrasi</i> or making of Latins. For though ye say <lb>well, in a latin making, or in a <i>Paraphrasis</i>, yet you being but <lb>in doute, and vncertayne whether ye saie well or no, ye gather <lb>and lay vp in memorie, no sure frute of learning thereby: But <lb>if ye fault in translation, ye ar easelie taught, how perfitlie to <lb>amende it, and so well warned, how after to exchew, all soch <lb>faultes againe.

<lb> <i>Paraphrasis</i> therefore, by myne opinion, is not meete for <lb>Grammer scholes: nor yet verie fitte for yong men in the <lb>vniuersitie, vntill studie and tyme, haue bred in them, perfite <lb>learning, and stedfast iudgement.

<lb> There is a kinde of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, which may be vsed, without <lb>all hurt, to moch proffet: but it serueth onely the Greke and <lb>not the latin, nor no other tong, as to alter <i>linguam Ionicam aut <lb>Doricam</i> into <i>meram Atticam</i>: A notable example there is left <lb>vnto vs by a notable learned man <i>Diony</i>: <i>Halicarn</i>: who, in his <lb>booke, peri syntaxeos, doth translate the goodlie storie of <lb><i>Candaules</i> and <i>Gyges</i> in 1. <i>Herodoti</i>, out of <i>Ionica lingua</i>, into

<lb><i>Atticam</i>. Read the place, and ye shall take, both pleasure and <lb>proffet, in conference of it. A man, that is exercised in reading, <lb><i>Thucydides, Xenophon, Plato</i>, and <i>Demosthenes</i>, in vsing to turne, <lb>like places of <i>Herodotus</i>, after like sorte, shold shortlie cum to <lb>soch a knowledge, in vnderstanding, speaking, and writing the <lb>Greeke tong, as fewe or none hath yet atteyned in England.

<lb>The like exercise out of <i>Dorica lingua</i> may be also vsed, if a <lb>man take that litle booke of <i>Plato, Timæus Locrus, de Animo et</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>252 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb><i>natura</i>, which is written <i>Dorice</i>, and turne it into soch Greeke, <lb>as <i>Plato</i> vseth in other workes. The booke, is but two leaues: <lb>and the labor wold be, but two weekes: but surelie the proffet, <lb>for easie vnderstanding, and trewe writing the Greeke tonge, <lb>wold conteruaile wyth the toile, that som men taketh, in <lb>otherwise coldlie reading that tonge, two yeares.

<lb> And yet, for the latin tonge, and for the exercise of <i>Para-

<lb>phrasis</i>, in those places of latin, that can not be bettered, if some <lb>yong man, excellent of witte, corragious in will, lustie of nature, <lb>and desirous to contend euen with the best latin, to better it, if <lb>he can, surelie I commend his forwardnesse, and for his better <lb>instruction therein, I will set before him, as notable an example <lb>of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, as is in Record of learning. <i>Cicero</i> him selfe, <lb>doth contend, in two sondrie places, to expresse one matter, <lb>with diuerse wordes: and that is <i>Paraphrasis</i>, saith <i>Quintillian</i>.

<lb>The matter I suppose is taken out of <i>Panætius</i>: and therefore <lb>being translated out of Greeke at diuers times, is vttered for his <lb>purpose, with diuers wordes and formes: which kinde of exercise, <lb>for perfite learned men, is verie profitable.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> 2. De Finib.

<lb>

<lb> a. <i>Homo enim Rationem habet à natura menti datam quæ, &

<lb>causas rerum et consecutiones videt, & similitudines, transfert, &

<lb>disiuncta coniungit, & cum præsentibus futura copulat, omnemque <lb>complectitur vitæ consequentis statum.</i> b. <i>Eademque ratio facit <lb>hominem hominum appetentem, cumque his, natura, & sermone in vsu <lb>congruentem: vt profectus à caritate domesticorum ac suorum, currat <lb>longius, & se implicet, primò Ciuium, deinde omnium mortalium <lb>societati: vtque non sibi soli se natum meminerit, sed patriæ, sed suis, <lb>vt exigua pars ipsi relinquatur.</i> c. <i>Et quoniam eadem natura <lb>cupiditatem ingenuit homini veri inueniendi, quod facillimè apparet, <lb>cum vacui curis, etiam quid in cœlo fiat, scire auemus, &c.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> 1. Officiorum.

<lb>

<lb> a. <i>Homo autem, qui rationis est particeps, per quam conse-

<lb>quentia cernit, & causas rerum videt, earumque progressus, et quasi <lb>antecessiones non ignorat, similitudines, comparat, rebusque præsentibus <lb>adiungit, atque annectit futuras, facile totius vitæ cursum videt, ad</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 253

<lb>

<lb><i>eamque degendam præparat res necessarias.</i> b. <i>Eademque natura vi <lb>rationis hominem conciliat homini, & ad Orationis, & ad vitæ <lb>societatem: ingeneratque imprimis præcipuum quendam amorem in <lb>eos, qui procreati sunt, impellitque vt hominum cœtus & celebrari <lb>inter se, & sibi obediri velit, ob easque causas studeat parare ea, <lb>quæ suppeditent ad cultum & ad victum, nec sibi soli, sed coniugi, <lb>liberis, cæterisque quos charos habeat, tuerique debeat.</i> c. <i>Quæ cura <lb>exsuscitat etiam animos, & maiores ad rem gerendam facit: impri-

<lb>misque hominis est propria veri inquisitio atque inuestigatio: ita cum <lb>sumus necessarijs negocijs curisque vacui, tum auemus aliquid videre, <lb>audire, addiscere, cognitionemque rerum mirabilium. &c.</i>

<lb>

<lb> The conference of these two places, conteinyng so excellent <lb>a peece of learning, as this is, expressed by so worthy a witte, <lb>as <i>Tullies</i> was, must needes bring great pleasure and proffit to <lb>him, that maketh trew counte, of learning and honestie. But <lb>if we had the <i>Greke</i> Author, the first Patterne of all, and therby <lb>to see, how <i>Tullies</i> witte did worke at diuerse tymes, how, out <lb>of one excellent Image, might be framed two other, one in face <lb>and fauor, but somwhat differing in forme, figure, and color, <lb>surelie, such a peece of workemanship compared with the <lb>Paterne it selfe, would better please the ease of honest, wise, <lb>and learned myndes, than two of the fairest Venusses, that euer <lb>Apelles made.

<lb> And thus moch, for all kinde of <i>Paraphrasis</i>, fitte or vnfit, <lb>for Scholers or other, as I am led to thinke, not onelie, by mine <lb>owne experience, but chiefly by the authoritie & iudgement of <lb>those, whom I my selfe would gladliest folow, and do counsell <lb>all myne to do the same: not contendyng with any other, that <lb>will otherwise either thinke or do.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Metaphrasis.</i>

<lb>

<lb> This kinde of exercise is all one with <i>Paraphrasis</i>, saue it is <lb>out of verse, either into prose, or into some other kinde of <lb>meter: or els, out of prose into verse, which was // <i>Plato</i> in <lb><i>Socrates</i> exercise and pastime ( as <i>Plato</i> reporteth) // Phædone.

<lb>when he was in prison, to translate <i>Æsopes Fabules</i>

<lb>into verse. <i>Quintilian</i> doth greatlie praise also this exercise: <lb>but bicause <i>Tullie</i> doth disalow it in yong men, by myne <lb>opinion, it were not well to vse it in Grammer Scholes, euen <lb>

<lb>

<lb>254 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>for the selfe same causes, that be recited against <i>Paraphrasis</i>.

<lb>And therfore, for the vse, or misuse of it, the same is to be <lb>thought, that is spoken of <i>Paraphrasis</i> before. This was <lb><i>Sulpitius</i> exercise: and he gathering vp therby, a Poeticall kinde <lb>of talke, is iustlie named of <i>Cicero, grandis et Tragicus Orator:</i>

<lb>which I think is spoken, not for his praise, but for other mens <lb>warning, to exchew the like faulte. Yet neuertheles, if our <lb>Scholemaster for his owne instruction, is desirous, to see a <lb>perfite example hereof, I will recite one, which I thinke, no <lb>man is so bold, will say, that he can amend it: & that is <lb><i>Hom.</i> 1. <i>Il.</i> // <i>Chrises</i> the Priestes Oration to the <i>Grekes</i>, in the

<lb><i>Pla.</i> 3. <i>Rep.</i> // beginnyng of <i>Homers Ilias</i>, turned excellentlie <lb>into prose by <i>Socrates</i> him selfe, and that aduised-

<lb>lie and purposelie for other to folow: and therfore he calleth <lb>this exercise, in the same place, mimesis, that is, <i>Imitatio</i>, which <lb>is most trew: but, in this booke, for teachyng sake, I will name <lb>it <i>Metaphrasis</i>, reteinyng the word, that all teachers, in this <lb>case, do vse.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> Homerus. I. Iliad.

<lb>

<lb> o gar elthe thoas epi neas Achaion, <lb> lysomenos te thygatra, pheron t apereisi apoina, <lb> stemmat echon en chersin ekebolou Apollonos, <lb> chryseo ana skeptro kai elisseto pantas Achaious, <lb> Atreida de malista duo, kosmetore laon.

<lb> Atreidai te, kai alloi euknemides Achaioi, <lb> ymin men theoi doien, Olympia domat echontes, <lb> ekpersai Priamoio polin eu d oikad ikesthai

<lb> paida d emoi lysai te philen, ta t apoina dechesthai, <lb> azomenoi Dios uion ekebolon Apollona.

<lb> enth alloi men pantes epeuphemesan Achaioi <lb> aideisthai th ierea, kai aglaa dechthai apoina <lb> all ouk Atreide Agamemnoni endane thymo,

<lb> alla kakos aphiei, krateron d epi mython etellen.

<lb> me se, geron, koilesin ego para neusi kicheio, <lb> e nyn dethynont, e ysteron autis ionta,

<lb> me ny toi ou chraisme skeptron, kai stemma theoio <lb> ten d ego ou lyso, prin min kai geras epeisin, <lb> emetero eni oiko, en Argei telothi patres

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 255

<lb>

<lb> iston epoichomenen, kai emon lechos antioosan.

<lb> all ithi, me m erethize saoteros os ke neeai.

<lb> os ephat eddeisen d o geron, kai epeitheto mytho <lb> be d akeon para thina polyphloisboio thalasses, <lb> polla d epeit apaneuthe kion erath o geraios <lb> Apolloni anakti, ton eukomos teke Leto.

<lb> klythi meu, argyrotox, os Chrysen amphibebekas, <lb> killan te zatheen, Tenedoio te iphi anasseis, <lb> smintheu, ei pote toi Charient epi neon erepsa, <lb> e ei de pote toi kata piona meri ekea

<lb> tauron, ed aigon, tode moi kreenon eeldor

<lb> tiseian Danaoi ema dakrua soisi belessin.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> Socrates in 3. <i>de Rep.</i> saith thus, <lb>

<lb> Phraso gar aneu metrou,

<lb> ou gar eimi poietikos.

<lb>

<lb>elthen o Chryses tes te thygatros lytra pheron, kai iketes <lb>ton Achaion, malista de ton basileon: kai eucheto, ekeinois <lb>men tous theous dounai elontas ten Troian, autous de sothenai, <lb>ten de thygatera oi auto lysai, dexamenous apoina, kai ton <lb>theon aidesthentas. Toiauta de eipontos autou, oi men alloi <lb>esebonto kai synenoun, o de Agamemnon egriainen, entel-

<lb>lomenos nyn te apienai, kai authis me elthein, me auto to te <lb>skeptron, kai ta tou theou stemmata ouk eparkesoi. prin <lb>de lythenai autou thygatera, en Argei ephe gerasein meta ou.

<lb>apienai de ekeleue, kai me erethizein, ina sos oikade elthoi.

<lb>o de presbytes akousas edeise te kai apeei sige, apocho-

<lb>resas d ek tou stratopedou polla to Apolloni eucheto, <lb>tas te eponymias tou theou anakalon kai ypomimneskon kai <lb>apaiton, ei ti popote e en naon oikodomesesin, e en ieron <lb>thysiais kecharismenon doresaito. on de charin kateucheto <lb>tisai tous Achaious ta a dakrua tois ekeinon belesin.

<lb>

<lb> To compare <i>Homer</i> and <i>Plato</i> together, two wonders of <lb>nature and arte for witte and eloquence, is most pleasant and <lb>profitable, for a man of ripe iudgement. <i>Platos</i> turning of <lb><i>Homer</i> in this place, doth not ride a loft in Poeticall termes, <lb>but goeth low and soft on foote, as prose and <i>Pedestris oratio</i>

<lb>should do. If <i>Sulpitius</i> had had <i>Platos</i> consideration, in right <lb>

<lb>

<lb>256 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>vsing this exercise, he had not deserued the name of <i>Tragicus <lb>Orator</i>, who should rather haue studied to expresse <i>vim Demos-

<lb>thenis</i>, than <i>furorem Poætæ</i>, how good so euer he was, whom he <lb>did folow.

<lb> And therfore would I haue our Scholemaster wey well <lb>together <i>Homer</i> and <i>Plato</i>, and marke diligentlie these foure <lb>pointes, what is kept: what is added: what is left out: what <lb>is changed, either, in choise of wordes, or forme of sentences: <lb>which foure pointes, be the right tooles, to handle like a worke-

<lb>man, this kinde of worke: as our Scholer shall better vnder-

<lb>stand, when he hath bene a good while in the Vniuersitie: <lb>to which tyme and place, I chiefly remitte this kinde of exercise.

<lb> And bicause I euer thought examples to be the best kinde <lb>of teaching, I will recite a golden sentence out of that Poete, <lb>which is next vnto <i>Homer</i>, not onelie in tyme, but also in <lb>worthines: which hath bene a paterne for many worthie <lb>wittes to follow, by this kind of <i>Metaphrasis</i>, but I will content <lb>my selfe, with foure workemen, two in <i>Greke</i>, and two in <i>Latin</i>, <lb>soch, as in both the tonges, wiser & worthier, can not be looked <lb>for. Surelie, no stone set in gold by most cunning workemen, <lb>is in deed, if right counte be made, more worthie the looking <lb>on, than this golden sentence, diuerslie wrought vpon, by soch <lb>foure excellent Masters.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Hesiodus</i>. 2.

<lb>

<lb> 1. outos men panariotos, os auto panta noese, <lb> phrassamenos ta k epeita kai es telos esin ameino: <lb> 2. esthlos d au kakeinos, os eu eiponti pithetai, <lb> 3. os de ke met autos noee, met allou akouon <lb> en thymo balletai, o d aut achreios aner.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ Thus rudelie turned into

<lb> base English.

<lb>

<lb> 1. <i>That man in wisedome passeth all, <lb> to know the best who hath a head:</i>

<lb> 2. <i>And meetlie wise eeke counted shall, <lb> who yeildes him selfe to wise mens read:</i>

<lb> 3. <i>Who hath no witte, nor none will heare, <lb> amongest all fooles the bell may beare.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 257

<lb>

<lb> <i>Sophocles in Antigone.</i>

<lb>

<lb> 1. Phem egoge presbeuein poly, <lb> Phynai ton andra pant epiotemes pleon: <lb> 2. Ei d oun (philei gar touto me taute repein), <lb> Kai ton legonton eu kalon to manthanein.

<lb>

<lb> Marke the wisedome of <i>Sophocles</i>, in leauyng out the last <lb>sentence, because it was not cumlie for the sonne to vse it to <lb>his father.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ <i>D. Basileus in his Exhortation to youth.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Memnesthe tou Esiodou, os phesi, ariston men einai <lb>ton par eautou ta deonta xynoronta. 2. Esthlon de kakei-

<lb>non, ton tois, par eteron ypodeicheisin epomenon. 3. ton <lb>de pros oudeteron epitedeion achreion einai pros apanta.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ M. Cic. Pro A. Cluentio.

<lb>

<lb>1. <i>Sapientissimum esse dicunt eum, cui, quod opus sit, ipsi veniat in <lb> mentem:</i> 2. <i>Proxime accedere illum, qui alterius bene inuentis <lb> obtemperet.</i> 3. </i>In stulticia contra est: minus enim stultus est <lb> is, cui nihil in mentem venit, quam ille, qui, quod stultè alteri venit <lb> in mentem comprobat.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Cicero</i> doth not plainlie expresse the last sentence, but doth <lb>inuent it fitlie for his purpose, to taunt the folie and simplicitie <lb>in his aduersarie <i>Actius</i>, not weying wiselie, the sutle doynges <lb>of <i>Chrysogonus</i> and <i>Staienus</i>.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ Tit. Liuius in Orat. Minutij. Lib. 22.

<lb>

<lb>1. <i>Sæpe ego audiui milites; eum primum esse virum, qui ipse <lb> consulat, quid in rem sit:</i> 2. <i>Secundum eum, qui bene monenti <lb> obediat:</i> 3. <i>Qui, nec ipse consulere, nec alteri parere scit, eum <lb> extremi esse ingenij.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Now, which of all these foure, <i>Sophocles, S. Basil, Cicero</i>, or <lb><i>Liuie</i>, hath expressed <i>Hesiodus</i> best, the iudgement is as hard, as <lb>the workemanship of euerie one is most excellent in deede. An <lb>other example out of the <i>Latin</i> tong also I will recite, for the <lb>worthines of the workeman therof, and that is <i>Horace</i>, who hath <lb>

<lb>

<lb>258 <i>The second book teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>so turned the begynning of <i>Terence Eunuchus</i>, as doth worke in <lb>me, a pleasant admiration, as oft so euer, as I compare those <lb>two places togither. And though euerie Master, and euerie <lb>good Scholer to, do know the places, both in <i>Terence</i> and <lb><i>Horace</i>, yet I will set them heare, in one place togither, that <lb>with more pleasure, they may be compared together.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ Terentius in Eunucho.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Quid igitur faciam? non eam? ne nunc quidem cum accersor <lb>ultrò? an potius ita me comparem, non perpeti meretricum con-

<lb>tumelias? exclusit: reuocat, redeam? non, si me obsecret.</i> PAR-

<lb>MENO a little after. <i>Here, quæ res in se neque consilium neque modum <lb>habet vllum, eam consilio regere non potes. In Amore hæc omnia <lb>insunt vitia, iniuriæ, suspiciones, inimicitiæ, induciæ, bellum, pax <lb>rursum. Incerta hæc si tu postules ratione certa facere, nihilo plus <lb>agas, quem si des operam, vt cum ratione insanias.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ Horatius, lib. Ser. 2. Saty. 3.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Nec nunc cum me vocet vltro,

<lb> Accedam? an potius mediter finire dolores?

<lb> Exclusit: reuocat, redeam? non si obsecret. Ecce <lb> Seruus non Paulo sapientior: ô Here, quæ res <lb> Nec modum habet, neque consilium, ratione modóque <lb> Tractari non vult. In amore, hæc sunt mala, bellum, <lb> Pax rursum: hæc si quis tempestatis propè ritu <lb> Mobilia, et cæca fluitantia sorte, laboret

<lb> Reddere certa, sibi nihilò plus explicet, ac si <lb> Insanire paret certa ratione, modòque.</i>

<lb>

<lb> This exercise may bring moch profite to ripe heads, and <lb>stayd iudgementes: bicause, in traueling in it, the mynde must <lb>nedes be verie attentiue, and busilie occupide, in turning and <lb>tossing it selfe many wayes: and conferryng with great pleasure, <lb>the varietie of worthie wittes and iudgementes togither: But <lb>this harme may sone cum therby, and namelie to yong Scholers, <lb>lesse, in seeking other wordes, and new forme of sentences, they <lb>chance vpon the worse: for the which onelie cause, <i>Cicero</i>

<lb>thinketh this exercise not to be fit for yong men.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 259

<lb>

<lb> <i>Epitome.</i>

<lb>

<lb> This is a way of studie, belonging, rather to matter, than to <lb>wordes: to memorie, than to vtterance: to those that be <lb>learned alreadie, and hath small place at all amonges yong <lb>scholers in Grammer scholes. It may proffet priuately some <lb>learned men, but it hath hurt generallie learning it selfe, very <lb>moch. For by it haue we lost whole <i>Trogus</i>, the best part of <lb><i>T. Liuius</i>, the goodlie Dictionarie of <i>Pompeius festus</i>, a great <lb>deale of the Ciuill lawe, and other many notable bookes, for the <lb>which cause, I do the more mislike this exercise, both in old <lb>and yong.

<lb> <i>Epitome</i>, is good priuatelie for himselfe that doth worke it, <lb>but ill commonlie for all other that vse other mens labor therein: <lb>a silie poore kinde of studie, not vnlike to the doing of those <lb>poore folke, which neyther till, nor sowe, nor reape themselues, <lb>but gleane by stelth, vpon other mens growndes. Soch, haue <lb>emptie barnes, for deare yeares.

<lb> Grammer scholes haue fewe <i>Epitomes</i> to hurt them, except <lb><i>Epitheta Textoris</i>, and such beggarlie gatheringes, as <i>Horman, <lb>whittington</i>, and other like vulgares for making of latines: yea <lb>I do wishe, that all rules for yong scholers, were shorter than <lb>they be. For without doute, <i>Grammatica</i> it selfe, is sooner and <lb>surer learned by examples of good authors, than by the naked <lb>rewles of <i>Grammarians</i>. <i>Epitome</i> hurteth more, in the vni-

<lb>uersities and studie of Philosophie: but most of all, in diuinitie <lb>it selfe.

<lb> In deede bookes of common places be verie necessarie, to <lb>induce a man, into an orderlie generall knowledge, how to <lb>referre orderlie all that he readeth, <i>ad certa rerum Capita</i>, and <lb>not wander in studie. And to that end did <i>P. Lombardus</i> the <lb>master of sentences and <i>Ph. Melancthon</i> in our daies, write two <lb>notable bookes of common places.

<lb> But to dwell in <i>Epitomes</i> and bookes of common places, and <lb>not to binde himselfe dailie by orderlie studie, to reade with all <lb>diligence, principallie the holyest scripture and withall, the best <lb>Doctors, and so to learne to make trewe difference betwixt, the <lb>authoritie of the one, and the Counsell of the other, maketh so <lb>many seeming, and sonburnt ministers as we haue, whose <lb>

<lb>

<lb>260 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>learning is gotten in a sommer heat, and washed away, with <lb>a Christmas snow againe: who neuerthelesse, are lesse to be <lb>blamed, than those blind bussardes, who in late yeares, of <lb>wilfull maliciousnes, would neyther learne themselues, nor <lb>could teach others, any thing at all.

<lb> <i>Paraphrasis</i> hath done lesse hurt to learning, than <i>Epitome</i>: <lb>for no <i>Paraphrasis</i>, though there be many, shall neuer take <lb>away <i>Dauids</i> Psalter. <i>Erasmus Paraphrasis</i> being neuer so <lb>good, shall neuer banishe the new Testament. And in an <lb>other schole, the <i>Paraphrasis</i> of <i>Brocardus</i>, or <i>Sambucus</i>, shal <lb>neuer take <i>Aristotles</i> Rhetoricke, nor <i>Horace de Arte Poetica</i>, out <lb>of learned mens handes.

<lb> But, as concerning a schole <i>Epitome</i>, he that wold haue an <lb>example of it, let him read <i>Lucian</i> peri kallous which is the <lb>verie <i>Epitome</i> of <i>Isocrates</i> oration <i>de laudibus Helenæ</i>, whereby

<lb>he may learne, at the least, this wise lesson, that a man ought <lb>to beware, to be ouer bold, in altering an excellent mans <lb>worke.

<lb> Neuertheles, some kinde of <i>Epitome</i> may be vsed, by men <lb>of skilful iudgement, to the great proffet also of others. As if <lb>a wise man would take <i>Halles</i> Cronicle, where moch good <lb>matter is quite marde with Indenture Englishe, and first change, <lb>strange and inkhorne tearmes into proper, and commonlie vsed <lb>wordes: next, specially to wede out that, that is superfluous <lb>and idle, not onelie where wordes be vainlie heaped one vpon <lb>an other, but also where many sentences, of one meaning, be <lb>clowted vp together as though <i>M. Hall</i> had bene, not writing <lb>the storie of England, but varying a sentence in Hitching <lb>schole: surelie a wise learned man, by this way of <i>Epitome</i>, in <lb>cutting away wordes and sentences, and diminishing nothing at <lb>all of the matter, shold leaue to mens vse, a storie, halfe as <lb>moch as it was in quantitie, but twise as good as it was, both <lb>for pleasure and also commoditie.

<lb> An other kinde of <i>Epitome</i> may be vsed likewise very well, <lb>to moch proffet. Som man either by lustines of nature, or <lb>brought by ill teaching, to a wrong iudgement, is ouer full of <lb>words, sentences, & matter, & yet all his words be proper, apt <lb>& well chosen: all his sentences be rownd and trimlie framed: <lb>his whole matter grownded vpon good reason, & stuffed with <lb>full arguments, for his intent & purpose. Yet when his talke <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 261

<lb>

<lb>shalbe heard, or his writing be red, of soch one, as is, either of <lb>my two dearest frendes, <i>M. Haddon</i> at home, or <i>Iohn Sturmius</i>

<lb>in Germanie, that <i>Nimium</i> in him, which fooles and vnlearned <lb>will most commend, shall eyther of thies two, bite his lippe, or <lb>shake his heade at it.

<lb> This fulnes as it is not to be misliked in a yong man, so in <lb>farder aige, in greater skill, and weightier affaires, it is to be <lb>temperated, or else discretion and iudgement shall seeme to be <lb>wanting in him. But if his stile be still ouer rancke and lustie, <lb>as some men being neuer so old and spent by yeares, will still <lb>be full of youthfull conditions as was Syr <i>F. Bryan</i>, and euer-

<lb>more wold haue bene: soch a rancke and full writer, must vse, <lb>if he will do wiselie the exercise of a verie good kinde of <lb><i>Epitome</i>, and do, as certaine wise men do, that be ouer fat and <lb>fleshie: who leauing their owne full and plentifull table, go to <lb>soiorne abrode from home for a while, at the temperate diet of <lb>some sober man: and so by litle and litle, cut away the <lb>grosnesse that is in them. As for an example: If <i>Osorius</i>

<lb>would leaue of his lustines in striuing against <i>S. Austen</i>, and his <lb>ouer rancke rayling against poore <i>Luther</i>, and the troth of Gods <lb>doctrine, and giue his whole studie, not to write any thing of <lb>his owne for a while, but to translate <i>Demosthenes</i>, with so straite, <lb>fast, & temperate a style in latine, as he is in Greeke, he would <lb>becume so perfit & pure a writer, I beleue, as hath bene fewe <lb>or none sence <i>Ciceroes</i> dayes: And so, by doing himself and all <lb>learned moch good, do others lesse harme, & Christes doctrine <lb>lesse iniury, than he doth: & with all, wyn vnto himselfe many <lb>worthy frends, who agreing with him gladly, in y<sup>e</sup> loue &

<lb>liking of excellent learning, are sorie to see so worthie a witte, <lb>so rare eloquence, wholie spent and consumed, in striuing with <lb>God and good men.

<lb> Emonges the rest, no man doth lament him more than <lb>I, not onelie for the excellent learning that I see in him, but <lb>also bicause there hath passed priuatelie betwixt him and me, <lb>sure tokens of moch good will, and frendlie opinion, the one <lb>toward the other. And surelie the distance betwixt London and <lb>Lysbon, should not stoppe, any kinde of frendlie dewtie, that I <lb>could, eyther shew to him, or do to his, if the greatest matter <lb>of all did not in certeyne pointes, separate our myndes.

<lb> And yet for my parte, both toward him, and diuerse others <lb>

<lb>

<lb>262 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>here at home, for like cause of excellent learning, great wisdome, <lb>and gentle humanitie, which I haue seene in them, and felt at <lb>their handes my selfe, where the matter of indifference is mere <lb>conscience in a quiet minde inwardlie, and not contentious <lb>malice with spitefull rayling openlie, I can be content to followe <lb>this rewle, in misliking some one thing, not to hate for anie <lb>thing els.

<lb> But as for all the bloodie beastes, as that fat Boore of the <lb><i>Psal.</i> 80. // wood: or those brauling Bulles of Basan: or any <lb>lurking <i>Dormus</i>, blinde, not by nature, but by <lb>malice, & as may be gathered of their owne testimonie, giuen <lb>ouer to blindnes, for giuing ouer God & his word; or soch as <lb>be so lustie runnegates, as first, runne from God & his trew <lb>doctrine, than, from their Lordes, Masters, & all dewtie, next, <lb>from them selues & out of their wittes, lastly from their Prince, <lb>contrey, & all dew allegeance, whether they ought rather to be <lb>pitied of good men, for their miserie, or contemned of wise <lb>men, for their malicious folie, let good and wise men deter-

<lb>mine.

<lb> And to returne to <i>Epitome</i> agayne, some will iudge moch <lb>boldnes in me, thus to iudge of <i>Osorius</i> style: but wise men do <lb>know, that meane lookers on, may trewelie say, for a well made <lb>Picture: This face had bene more cumlie, if that hie redde in <lb>the cheeke, were somwhat more pure sanguin than it is: and <lb>yet the stander by, can not amend it himselfe by any way.

<lb> And this is not written to the dispraise but to the great <lb>commendation of <i>Osorius</i>, because <i>Tullie</i> himselfe had the same <lb>fulnes in him: and therefore went to <i>Rodes</i> to cut it away: and <lb>saith himselfe, <i>recepi me domum prope mutatus, nam quasi referuerat <lb>iam oratio</i>. Which was brought to passe I beleue, not onelie by <lb>the teaching of <i>Molo Appollonius</i> but also by a good way of <lb><i>Epitome</i>, in binding him selfe to translate <i>meros Atticos Oratores</i>, <lb>and so to bring his style, from all lowse grosnesse, to soch firme <lb>fastnes in latin, as is in <i>Demosthenes</i> in Greeke. And this to be <lb>most trew, may easelie be gathered, not onelie of <i>L. Crassus</i>

<lb>talke in 1. <i>de Or.</i> but speciallie of <i>Ciceroes</i> owne deede in <lb>translating <i>Demosthenes</i> and <i>Æschines</i> orations peri steph. to that <lb>verie ende and purpose.

<lb> And although a man growndlie learned all readie, may take <lb>moch proffet him selfe in vsing, by <i>Epitome</i>, to draw other mens <lb>

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<lb>workes for his owne memorie sake, into shorter rowme, as <lb><i>Conterus</i> hath done verie well the whole <i>Metamorphosis</i> of <i>Ouid</i>, <lb>& <i>Dauid Cythræus</i> a great deale better, the ix. Muses of <i>Hero-

<lb>dotus</i>, and <i>Melanchthon</i> in myne opinion, far best of all, the whole <lb>storie of Time, not onelie to his own vse, but to other mens <lb>proffet and hys great prayse, yet, <i>Epitome</i> is most necessarie of <lb>all in a mans owne writing, as we learne of that noble Poet <lb><i>Virgill</i>, who, if <i>Donatus</i> say trewe, in writing that perfite worke <lb>of the <i>Georgickes</i>, vsed dailie, when he had written 40. or 50.

<lb>verses, not to cease cutting, paring, and pollishing of them, till <lb>he had brought them to the nomber of x. or xij.

<lb> And this exercise, is not more nedefullie done in a great <lb>worke, than wiselie done, in your common dailie writing, either <lb>of letter, or other thing else, that is to say, to peruse diligentlie, <lb>and see and spie wiselie, what is alwaies more than nedeth: <lb>For, twenty to one, offend more, in writing to moch, than to <lb>litle: euen as twentie to one, fall into sicknesse, rather by ouer <lb>moch fulnes, than by anie lacke or emptinesse. And therefore <lb>is he alwaies the best English Physition, that best can geue <lb>a purgation, that is, by way of <i>Epitome</i>, to cut all ouer much <lb>away. And surelie mens bodies, be not more full of ill humors, <lb>than commonlie mens myndes (if they be yong, lustie, proude, <lb>like and loue them selues well, as most men do) be full of fansies, <lb>opinions, errors, and faultes, not onelie in inward inuention, but <lb>also in all their vtterance, either by pen or taulke.

<lb> And of all other men, euen those that haue y<sup>e</sup> inuentiuest <lb>heades, for all purposes, and roundest tonges in all matters and <lb>places (except they learne and vse this good lesson of <i>Epitome</i>) <lb>commit commonlie greater faultes, than dull, staying silent men <lb>do. For, quicke inuentors, and faire readie speakers, being <lb>boldned with their present habilitie to say more, and perchance <lb>better to, at the soden for that present, than any other can do, <lb>vse lesse helpe of diligence and studie than they ought to do: <lb>and so haue in them commonlie, lesse learning, and weaker <lb>iudgement, for all deepe considerations, than some duller heades, <lb>and slower tonges haue.

<lb> And therefore, readie speakers, generallie be not the best, <lb>playnest, and wisest writers, nor yet the deepest iudgers in <lb>weightie affaires, bicause they do not tarry to weye and iudge <lb>all thinges, as they should: but hauing their heades ouer full of <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>matter, be like pennes ouer full of incke, which will soner <lb>blotte, than make any faire letter at all. Tyme was, whan <lb>I had experience of two Ambassadors in one place, the one of <lb>a hote head to inuent, and of a hastie hand to write, the other, <lb>colde and stayd in both: but what difference of their doinges <lb>was made by wise men, is not vnknowne to some persons. The <lb>Bishop of Winchester <i>Steph</i>: <i>Gardiner</i> had a quicke head, and <lb>a readie tong, and yet was not the best writer in England.

<lb><i>Cicero</i> in <i>Brutus</i> doth wiselie note the same in <i>Serg: Galbo</i>, and <lb><i>Q. Hortentius</i>, who were both, hote, lustie, and plaine speakers, <lb>but colde, lowse, and rough writers: And <i>Tullie</i> telleth the <lb>cause why, saying, whan they spake, their tong was naturally <lb>caried with full tyde & wynde of their witte: whan they wrote <lb>their head was solitarie, dull, and caulme, and so their style was <lb>blonte, and their writing colde: <i>Quod vitium</i>, sayth <i>Cicero</i>, <lb><i>peringeniosis hominibus neque satis doctis plerumque accidit</i>.

<lb> And therfore all quick inuentors, & readie faire speakers, <lb>must be carefull, that, to their goodnes of nature, they adde <lb>also in any wise, studie, labor, leasure, learning, and iudgement, <lb>and than they shall in deede, passe all other, as I know some do, <lb>in whome all those qualities are fullie planted, or else if they <lb>giue ouer moch to their witte, and ouer litle to their labor and <lb>learning, they will sonest ouer reach in taulke, and fardest cum <lb>behinde in writing whatsoeuer they take in hand. The methode <lb>of <i>Epitome</i> is most necessarie for soch kinde of men. And thus <lb>much concerning the vse or misuse of all kinde of <i>Epitomes</i> in <lb>matters of learning.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> [dingbat omitted] <i>Imitatio.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Imitation</i>, is a facultie to expresse liuelie and perfitelie that <lb>example: which ye go about to folow. And of it selfe, it is <lb>large and wide: for all the workes of nature, in a maner be <lb>examples for arte to folow.

<lb> But to our purpose, all languages, both learned and mother <lb>tonges, be gotten, and gotten onelie by <i>Imitation</i>. For as ye <lb>vse to heare, so ye learne to speake: if ye heare no other, ye <lb>speake not your selfe: and whome ye onelie heare, of them ye <lb>onelie learne.

<lb> And therefore, if ye would speake as the best and wisest do, <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>ye must be conuersant, where the best and wisest are: but if <lb>yow be borne or brought vp in a rude contrie, ye shall not chose <lb>but speake rudelie: the rudest man of all knoweth this to be <lb>trewe.

<lb> Yet neuerthelesse, the rudenes of common and mother <lb>tonges, is no bar for wise speaking. For in the rudest contrie, <lb>and most barbarous mother language, many be found can speake <lb>verie wiselie: but in the Greeke and latin tong, the two onelie <lb>learned tonges, which be kept, not in common taulke, but in <lb>priuate bookes, we finde alwayes, wisdome and eloquence, good <lb>matter and good vtterance, neuer or seldom a sonder. For all <lb>soch Authors, as be fullest of good matter and right iudgement <lb>in doctrine, be likewise alwayes, most proper in wordes, most <lb>apte in sentence, most plaine and pure in vttering the same.

<lb> And contrariwise, in those two tonges, all writers, either in <lb>Religion, or any sect of Philosophie, who so euer be founde <lb>fonde in iudgement of matter, be commonlie found as rude in <lb>vttering their mynde. For Stoickes, Anabaptistes, and Friers: <lb>with Epicures, Libertines and Monkes, being most like in <lb>learning and life, are no fonder and pernicious in their opinions, <lb>than they be rude and barbarous in their writinges. They be <lb>not wise, therefore that say, what care I for a mans wordes and <lb>vtterance, if his matter and reasons be good. Soch men, say <lb>so, not so moch of ignorance, as eyther of some singular pride <lb>in themselues, or some speciall malice or other, or for some <lb>priuate & perciall matter, either in Religion or other kinde of <lb>learning. For good and choice meates, be no more requisite <lb>for helthie bodies, than proper and apte wordes be for good <lb>matters, and also plaine and sensible vtterance for the best and <lb>depest reasons: in which two pointes standeth perfite eloquence, <lb>one of the fairest and rarest giftes that God doth geue to man.

<lb> Ye know not, what hurt ye do to learning, that care not <lb>for wordes, but for matter, and so make a deuorse betwixt the <lb>tong and the hart. For marke all aiges: looke vpon the whole <lb>course of both the Greeke and Latin tonge, and ye shall surelie <lb>finde, that, whan apte and good wordes began to be neglected, <lb>and properties of those two tonges to be confounded, than also <lb>began, ill deedes to spring: strange maners to oppresse good <lb>orders, newe and fond opinions to striue with olde and trewe <lb>doctrine, first in Philosophie: and after in Religion: right <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>iudgement of all thinges to be peruerted, and so vertue with <lb>learning is contemned, and studie left of: of ill thoughtes <lb>cummeth peruerse iudgement: of ill deedes springeth lewde <lb>taulke. Which fower misorders, as they mar mans life, so <lb>destroy they good learning withall.

<lb> But behold the goodnesse of Gods prouidence for learning: <lb>all olde authors and sectes of Philosophy, which were fondest in <lb>opinion, and rudest in vtterance, as Stoickes and Epicures, first <lb>contemned of wise men, and after forgotten of all men, be so <lb>consumed by tymes, as they be now, not onelie out of vse, but <lb>also out of memorie of man: which thing, I surelie thinke, <lb>will shortlie chance, to the whole doctrine and all the bookes of <lb>phantasticall Anabaptistes and Friers, and of the beastlie <lb>Libertines and Monkes.

<lb> Againe behold on the other side, how Gods wisdome hath <lb>wrought, that of <i>Academici</i> and <i>Peripatetici</i>, those that were <lb>wisest in iudgement of matters, and purest in vttering their <lb>myndes, the first and chiefest, that wrote most and best, in <lb>either tong, as <i>Plato</i> and <i>Aristotle</i> in Greeke, <i>Tullie</i> in Latin, be <lb>so either wholie, or sufficiently left vnto vs, as I neuer knew <lb>yet scholer, that gaue himselfe to like, and loue, and folow <lb>chieflie those three Authors but he proued, both learned, wise, <lb>and also an honest man, if he ioyned with all the trewe doctrine <lb>of Gods holie Bible, without the which, the other three, be but <lb>fine edge tooles in a fole or mad mans hand.

<lb> But to returne to <i>Imitation</i> agayne: There be three kindes <lb>of it in matters of learning.

<lb> The whole doctrine of Comedies and Tragedies, is a <lb>perfite <i>imitation</i>, or faire liuelie painted picture of the life of <lb>euerie degree of man. Of this <i>Imitation</i> writeth <i>Plato</i> at <lb>large in 3. <i>de Rep.</i> but it doth not moch belong at this time to <lb>our purpose.

<lb> The second kind of <i>Imitation</i>, is to folow for learning of <lb>tonges and sciences, the best authors. Here riseth, emonges <lb>proude and enuious wittes, a great controuersie, whether, one <lb>or many are to be folowed: and if one, who is that one: <i>Seneca</i>, <lb>or <i>Cicero</i>: <i>Salust</i> or <i>Cæsar</i>, and so forth in Greeke and Latin.

<lb> The third kinde of <i>Imitation</i>, belongeth to the second: as <lb>when you be determined, whether ye will folow one or mo, to <lb>know perfitlie, and which way to folow that one: in what <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>place: by what meane and order: by what tooles and instru-

<lb>mentes ye shall do it, by what skill and iudgement, ye shall <lb>trewelie discerne, whether ye folow rightlie or no.

<lb> This <i>Imitatio</i>, is <i>dissimilis materiei similis tractatio</i>: and also, <lb><i>similis materiei dissimilis tractatio</i>, as <i>Virgill</i> folowed <i>Homer</i>: but <lb>the Argument to the one was <i>Vlysses</i>, to the other <i>Æneas</i>.

<lb><i>Tullie</i> persecuted <i>Antonie</i> with the same wepons of eloquence, <lb>that <i>Demosthenes</i> vsed before against <i>Philippe</i>.

<lb> <i>Horace</i> foloweth <i>Pindar</i>, but either of them his owne <lb>Argument and Person: as the one, <i>Hiero</i> king of <i>Sicilie</i>, the <lb>other <i>Augustus</i> the Emperor: and yet both for like respectes, <lb>that is, for their coragious stoutnes in warre, and iust gouern-

<lb>ment in peace.

<lb> One of the best examples, for right <i>Imitation</i> we lacke, and <lb>that is <i>Menander</i>, whom our <i>Terence</i>, (as the matter required) in <lb>like argument, in the same Persons, with equall eloquence, foote <lb>by foote did folow.

<lb> Som peeces remaine, like broken Iewelles, whereby men <lb>may rightlie esteme, and iustlie lament, the losse of the <lb>whole.

<lb> <i>Erasmus</i>, the ornament of learning, in our tyme, doth wish <lb>that som man of learning and diligence, would take the like <lb>paines in <i>Demosthenes</i> and <i>Tullie</i>, that <i>Macrobius</i> hath done in <lb><i>Homer</i> and <i>Virgill</i>, that is, to write out and ioyne together, <lb>where the one doth imitate the other. <i>Erasmus</i> wishe is good, <lb>but surelie, it is not good enough: for <i>Macrobius</i> gatherings for <lb>the <i>Æneidos</i> out of <i>Homer</i>, and <i>Eobanus Hessus</i> more diligent <lb>gatherings for the <i>Bucolikes</i> out of <i>Theocritus</i>, as they be not <lb>fullie taken out of the whole heape, as they should be, but euen <lb>as though they had not sought for them of purpose, but fownd <lb>them scatered here and there by chance in their way, euen so, <lb>onelie to point out, and nakedlie to ioyne togither their <lb>sentences, with no farder declaring the maner and way, how <lb>the one doth folow the other, were but a colde helpe, to the <lb>encrease of learning.

<lb> But if a man would take this paine also, whan he hath layd <lb>two places, of <i>Homer</i> and <i>Virgill</i>, or of <i>Demosthenes</i> and <i>Tullie</i>

<lb>togither, to teach plainlie withall, after this sort.

<lb> 1. <i>Tullie</i> reteyneth thus moch of the matter, thies <lb>sentences, thies wordes:

<lb>

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<lb>

<lb> 2. This and that he leaueth out, which he doth wittelie to <lb>this end and purpose.

<lb> 3. This he addeth here.

<lb> 4. This he diminisheth there.

<lb> 5. This he ordereth thus, with placing that here, not <lb>there.

<lb> 6. This he altereth and changeth, either, in propertie of <lb>wordes, in forme of sentence, in substance of the matter, or in <lb>one, or other conuenient circumstance of the authors present <lb>purpose. In thies fewe rude English wordes, are wrapt vp all <lb>the necessarie tooles and instrumentes, wherewith trewe <i>Imita-

<lb>tion</i> is rightlie wrought withall in any tonge. Which tooles, <lb>I openlie confesse, be not of myne owne forging, but partlie left <lb>vnto me by the cunningest Master, and one of the worthiest <lb>Ientlemen that euer England bred, Syr <i>Iohn Cheke</i>: partelie <lb>borowed by me out of the shoppe of the dearest frende I haue <lb>out of England, <i>Io. St.</i> And therefore I am the bolder to <lb>borow of him, and here to leaue them to other, and namelie to <lb>my Children: which tooles, if it please God, that an other day, <lb>they may be able to vse rightlie, as I do wish and daylie pray, <lb>they may do, I shal be more glad, than if I were able to leaue <lb>them a great quantitie of land.

<lb> This foresaide order and doctrine of <i>Imitation</i>, would bring <lb>forth more learning, and breed vp trewer iudgement, than any <lb>other exercise that can be vsed, but not for yong beginners, <lb>bicause they shall not be able to consider dulie therof. And <lb>trewelie, it may be a shame to good studentes who hauing so <lb>faire examples to follow, as <i>Plato</i> and <i>Tullie</i>, do not vse so wise <lb>wayes in folowing them for the obteyning of wisdome and <lb>learning, as rude ignorant Artificers do, for gayning a small <lb>commoditie. For surelie the meanest painter vseth more witte, <lb>better arte, greater diligence, in hys shoppe, in folowing the <lb>Picture of any meane mans face, than commonlie the best <lb>studentes do, euen in the vniuersitie, for the atteining of <lb>learning it selfe.

<lb> Some ignorant, vnlearned, and idle student: or some busie <lb>looker vpon this litle poore booke, that hath neither will to do <lb>good him selfe, nor skill to iudge right of others, but can lustelie <lb>contemne, by pride and ignorance, all painfull diligence and <lb>right order in study, will perchance say, that I am to precise, to <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>curious, in marking and piteling thus about the imitation of <lb>others: and that the olde worthie Authors did neuer busie their <lb>heades and wittes, in folowyng so preciselie, either the matter <lb>what other men wrote, or els the maner how other men wrote.

<lb>They will say, it were a plaine slauerie, & inurie to, to shakkle <lb>and tye a good witte, and hinder the course of a mans good <lb>nature with such bondes of seruitude, in folowyng other.

<lb> Except soch men thinke them selues wiser then <i>Cicero</i> for <lb>teaching of eloquence, they must be content to turne a new <lb>leafe.

<lb> The best booke that euer <i>Tullie</i> wrote, by all mens iudge-

<lb>ment, and by his owne testimonie to, in writyng wherof, he <lb>employed most care, studie, learnyng and iudgement, is his <lb>book <i>de Orat. ad Q. F.</i> Now let vs see, what he did for the <lb>matter, and also for the maner of writing therof. For the <lb>whole booke consisteth in these two pointes onelie: In good <lb>matter, and good handling of the matter. And first, for the <lb>matter, it is whole <i>Aristotles</i>, what so euer <i>Antonie</i> in the <lb>second, and <i>Crassus</i> in the third doth teach. Trust not me, <lb>but beleue <i>Tullie</i> him selfe, who writeth so, first, in that goodlie <lb>long Epistle <i>ad P. Lentulum</i>, and after in diuerse places <i>ad <lb>Atticum</i>. And in the verie booke it selfe, Tullie will not haue <lb>it hidden, but both <i>Catulus</i> and <i>Crassus</i> do oft and pleasantly lay <lb>that stelth to <i>Antonius</i> charge. Now, for the handling of the <lb>matter, was <i>Tullie</i> so precise and curious rather to follow an <lb>other mans Paterne, than to inuent some newe shape him selfe, <lb>namelie in that booke, wherin he purposed, to leaue to <lb>posteritie, the glorie of his witte? yea forsoth, that he did.

<lb>And this is not my gessing and gathering, nor onelie performed <lb>by <i>Tullie</i> in verie deed, but vttered also by <i>Tullie</i> in plaine <lb>wordes: to teach other men thereby, what they should do, in <lb>taking like matter in hand.

<lb> And that which is specially to be marked, <i>Tullie</i> doth vtter <lb>plainlie his conceit and purpose therein, by the mouth of <lb>the wisest man in all that companie: for sayth <i>Scæuola</i> him <lb>selfe, <i>Cur non imitamur, Crasse, Socratem illum, qui est in Phædro <lb>Platonis &c.</i>

<lb> And furder to vnderstand, that <i>Tullie</i> did not <i>obiter</i> and <lb>bichance, but purposelie and mindfullie bend him selfe to <lb>a precise and curious Imitation of <i>Plato</i>, concernyng the shape <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>and forme of those bookes, marke I pray you, how curious <lb><i>Tullie</i> is to vtter his purpose and doyng therein, writing thus to <lb><i>Atticus</i>.

<lb> <i>Quod in his Oratorijs libris, quos tantopere laudas, personam <lb>desideras Scæuolæ, non eam temerè dimoui: Sed feci idem, quod in <lb>politeia Deus ille noster Plato, cum in Piræeum Socrates venisset ad <lb>Cephalum locupletem & festiuum Senem, quoad primus ille sermo <lb>haberetur, adest in disputando senex: Deinde, cum ipse quoque <lb>commodissimè locutus esset, ad rem diuinam dicit se velle discedere, <lb>neque postea reuertitur. Credo Platonem vix putasse satis consonum <lb>fore, si hominem id ætatis in tam longo sermone diutius retinuisset: <lb>Multo ego satius hoc mihi cauendum putaui in Scæuola, qui & ætate <lb>et valetudine erat ea qua meministi, & his honoribus, vt vix satis <lb>decorum videretur eum plures dies esse in Crassi Tusculano. Et erat <lb>primi libri sermo non alienus à Scæuolæ studijs: reliqui libri <lb>technologian habent, vt scis. Huic ioculatoriæ disputationi senem <lb>illum vt noras, interesse sanè nolui.</i>

<lb> If <i>Cicero</i> had not opened him selfe, and declared hys owne <lb>thought and doynges herein, men that be idle, and ignorant, and <lb>enuious of other mens diligence and well doinges, would haue <lb>sworne that <i>Tullie</i> had neuer mynded any soch thing, but that <lb>of a precise curiositie, we fayne and forge and father soch <lb>thinges of <i>Tullie</i>, as he neuer ment in deed. I write this, not <lb>for nought: for I haue heard some both well learned, and <lb>otherwayes verie wise, that by their lustie misliking of soch <lb>diligence, haue drawen back the forwardnes of verie good wittes.

<lb>But euen as such men them selues, do sometymes stumble vpon <lb>doyng well by chance and benefite of good witte, so would <lb>I haue our scholer alwayes able to do well by order of learnyng <lb>and right skill of iudgement.

<lb> Concernyng Imitation, many learned men haue written, <lb>with moch diuersitie for the matter, and therfore with great <lb>contrarietie and some stomacke amongest them selues. I <lb>haue read as many as I could get diligentlie, and what I <lb>thinke of euerie one of them, I will freelie say my mynde.

<lb>With which freedome I trust good men will beare, bicause <lb>it shall tend to neither spitefull nor harmefull controuersie.

<lb> In <i>Tullie</i>, it is well touched, shortlie taught, not fullie <lb><i>Cicero.</i> // declared by <i>Ant. in</i> 2. <i>de Orat</i>: and afterward <lb>in <i>Orat. ad Brutum</i>, for the liking and misliking <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>of <i>Isocrates</i>: and the contrarie iudgement of <i>Tullie</i> against <lb><i>Caluus, Brutus</i>, and <i>Calidius, de genere dicendi Attico & Asiatico</i>.

<lb> <i>Dionis. Halic.</i> peri mimeseos. I feare is lost: which <lb>Author, next <i>Aristotle, Plato</i>, and <i>Tullie</i>, of all // <i>Dio. Hali-</i>

<lb>other, that write of eloquence, by the iudgement // <i>car.</i>

<lb>of them that be best learned, deserueth the next

<lb>prayse and place.

<lb> <i>Quintilian</i> writeth of it, shortly and coldlie for the matter, <lb>yet hotelie and spitefullie enough, agaynst the // <i>Quintil.</i>

<lb>Imitation of <i>Tullie</i>.

<lb> <i>Erasmus</i>, beyng more occupied in spying other mens faultes, <lb>than declaryng his own aduise, is mistaken of // <i>Erasmus.</i>

<lb>many, to the great hurt of studie, for his authoritie <lb>sake. For he writeth rightlie, rightlie vnderstanded: he and <lb><i>Longolius</i> onelie differing in this, that the one seemeth to giue <lb>ouermoch, the other ouer litle, to him, whom they both, best <lb>loued, and chiefly allowed of all other.

<lb> <i>Budæus</i> in his Commentaries roughlie and obscurelie, <lb>after his kinde of writyng: and for the matter, // <i>Budæus.</i>

<lb>caryed somwhat out of the way in ouermuch

<lb>misliking the Imitation of <i>Tullie</i>. // <i>Ph. Me-</i>

<lb> <i>Phil. Melancthon</i>, learnedlie and trewlie. // <i>lanch.</i>

<lb> <i>Camerarius</i> largely with a learned iudgement, // <i>Ioa. Cam-</i>

<lb>but somewhat confusedly, and with ouer rough // <i>mer.</i>

<lb>a stile.

<lb> <i>Sambucus</i>, largely, with a right iudgement but somewhat <lb>a crooked stile. // <i>Sambucus.</i>

<lb> Other haue written also, as <i>Cortesius</i> to // <i>Cortesius.</i>

<lb><i>Politian</i>, and that verie well: <i>Bembus ad Picum</i> // <i>P. Bembus.</i>

<lb>a great deale better, but <i>Ioan. Sturmius de</i> // <i>Ioan. Stur-</i>

<lb><i>Nobilitate literata, & de Amissa dicendi ratione</i>, // <i>mius.</i>

<lb>farre best of all, in myne opinion, that euer tooke <lb>this matter in hand. For all the rest, declare chiefly this point, <lb>whether one, or many, or all, are to be followed: but <i>Sturmius</i>

<lb>onelie hath most learnedlie declared, who is to be followed, what <lb>is to be followed, and the best point of all, by what way & order, <lb>trew Imitation is rightlie to be exercised. And although <i>Sturmius</i>

<lb>herein doth farre passe all other, yet hath he not so fullie and <lb>perfitelie done it, as I do wishe he had, and as I know he could.

<lb>For though he hath done it perfitelie for precept, yet hath he <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>not done it perfitelie enough for example: which he did, neither <lb>for lacke of skill, nor by negligence, but of purpose, contented <lb>with one or two examples bicause he was mynded in those two <lb>bookes, to write of it both shortlie, and also had to touch other <lb>matters.

<lb> <i>Barthol. Riccius Ferrariensis</i> also hath written learnedlie, <lb>diligentlie and verie largelie of this matter euen as hee did before <lb>verie well <i>de Apparatu linguæ Lat.</i> He writeth the better in <lb>myne opinion, bicause his whole doctrine, iudgement, and <lb>order, semeth to be borowed out of <i>Io. Stur.</i> bookes. He <lb>addeth also examples, the best kinde of teaching: wherein he <lb>doth well, but not well enough: in deede, he committeth no <lb>faulte, but yet, deserueth small praise. He is content with the <lb>meane, and followeth not the best: as a man, that would feede <lb>vpon Acornes, whan he may eate, as good cheape, the finest <lb>wheat bread. He teacheth for example, where and how, two <lb>or three late <i>Italian</i> Poetes do follow <i>Virgil</i>: and how <i>Virgil</i>

<lb>him selfe in the storie of <i>Dido</i>, doth wholie Imitate <i>Catullus</i> in <lb>the like matter of <i>Ariadna</i>: Wherein I like better his diligence <lb>and order of teaching, than his iudgement in choice of examples <lb>for <i>Imitation</i>. But, if he had done thus: if he had declared <lb>where and how, how oft and how many wayes <i>Virgil</i> doth folow <lb><i>Homer</i>, as for example the comming of <i>Vlysses</i> to <i>Alcynous</i> and <lb><i>Calypso</i>, with the comming of <i>Æneas</i> to <i>Cartage</i> and <i>Dido</i>: Like-

<lb>wise the games running, wrestling, and shoting, that <i>Achilles</i>

<lb>maketh in <i>Homer</i>, with the selfe same games, that <i>Æneas</i>

<lb>maketh in <i>Virgil</i>: The harnesse of <i>Achilles</i>, with the harnesse <lb>of <i>Æneas</i>, and the maner of making of them both by <i>Vulcane</i>: <lb>The notable combate betwixt <i>Achilles</i> and <i>Hector</i>, with as <lb>notable a combate betwixt <i>Æneas</i> and <i>Turnus</i>. The going <lb>downe to hell of <i>Vlysses</i> in <i>Homer</i>, with the going downe to hell <lb>of <i>&AEneas</i> in <i>Virgil</i>: and other places infinite mo, as similitudes, <lb>narrations, messages, discriptions of persones, places, battels, <lb>tempestes, shipwrackes, and common places for diuerse purposes, <lb>which be as precisely taken out of <i>Homer</i>, as euer did Painter in <lb>London follow the picture of any faire personage. And when <lb>thies places had bene gathered together by this way of diligence <lb>than to haue conferred them together by this order of teaching <lb>as, diligently to marke what is kept and vsed in either author, <lb>in wordes, in sentences, in matter: what is added: what is left <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>out: what ordered otherwise, either <i>præponendo, interponendo</i>, or <lb><i>postponendo</i>: And what is altered for any respect, in word, <lb>phrase, sentence, figure, reason, argument, or by any way of <lb>circumstance: If <i>Riccius</i> had done this, he had not onely bene <lb>well liked, for his diligence in teaching, but also iustlie com-

<lb>mended for his right iudgement in right choice of examples for <lb>the best <i>Imitation</i>.

<lb> <i>Riccius</i> also for <i>Imitation</i> of prose declareth where and how <lb><i>Longolius</i> doth folow <i>Tullie</i>, but as for <i>Longolius</i>, I would not <lb>haue him the patern of our <i>Imitation</i>. In deede: in <i>Longolius</i>

<lb>shoppe, be proper and faire shewing colers, but as for shape, <lb>figure, and naturall cumlines, by the iudgement of best iudging <lb>artificers, he is rather allowed as one to be borne withall, than <lb>especially commended, as one chieflie to be folowed.

<lb> If <i>Riccius</i> had taken for his examples, where <i>Tullie</i> him selfe <lb>foloweth either <i>Plato</i> or <i>Demosthenes</i>, he had shot than at the <lb>right marke. But to excuse <i>Riccius</i>, somwhat, though I can <lb>not fullie defend him, it may be sayd, his purpose was, to teach <lb>onelie the Latin tong, when thys way that I do wish, to ioyne <lb><i>Virgil</i> with <i>Homer</i>, to read <i>Tullie</i> with <i>Demosthenes</i> and <i>Plato</i>,

<lb>requireth a cunning and perfite Master in both the tonges. It <lb>is my wish in deede, and that by good reason: For who so euer <lb>will write well of any matter, must labor to expresse that, that <lb>is perfite, and not to stay and content himselfe with the meane: <lb>yea, I say farder, though it be not vnposible, yet it is verie rare, <lb>and meruelous hard, to proue excellent in the Latin tong, for <lb>him that is not also well seene in the Greeke tong. <i>Tullie</i> him <lb>selfe, most excellent of nature, most diligent in labor, brought <lb>vp from his cradle, in that place, and in that tyme, where and <lb>whan the Latin tong most florished naturallie in euery mans <lb>mouth, yet was not his owne tong able it selfe to make him so <lb>cunning in his owne tong, as he was in deede: but the <lb>knowledge and <i>Imitation</i> of the Greeke tong withall.

<lb> This he confesseth himselfe: this he vttereth in many places, <lb>as those can tell best, that vse to read him most.

<lb> Therefore thou, that shotest at perfection in the Latin tong, <lb>thinke not thy selfe wiser than <i>Tullie</i> was, in choice of the way, <lb>that leadeth rightlie to the same: thinke not thy witte better <lb>than <i>Tullies</i> was, as though that may serue thee that was not <lb>sufficient for him. For euen as a hauke flieth not hie with one <lb>

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<lb>

<lb>wing: euen so a man reacheth not to excellency with one <lb>tong.

<lb> I haue bene a looker on in the Cokpit of learning thies <lb>many yeares: And one Cock onelie haue I knowne, which <lb>with one wing, euen at this day, doth passe all other, in myne <lb>opinion, that euer I saw in any pitte in England, though they <lb>had two winges. Yet neuerthelesse, to flie well with one <lb>wing, to runne fast with one leg, be rather, rare Maistreis <lb>moch to be merueled at, than sure examples safelie to be <lb>folowed. A Bushop that now liueth, a good man, whose <lb>iudgement in Religion I better like, than his opinion in per-

<lb>fitnes in other learning, said once vnto me: we haue no nede <lb>now of the Greeke tong, when all thinges be translated into <lb>Latin. But the good man vnderstood not, that euen the best <lb>translation, is, for mere necessitie, but an euill imped wing to <lb>flie withall, or a heuie stompe leg of wood to go withall: soch, <lb>the hier they flie, the sooner they falter and faill: the faster <lb>they runne, the ofter they stumble, and sorer they fall. Soch <lb>as will nedes so flie, may flie at a Pye, and catch a Dawe: And <lb>soch runners, as commonlie, they shoue and sholder to stand <lb>formost, yet in the end they cum behind others & deserue <lb>but the hopshakles, if the Masters of the game be right iudgers.

<lb> Therefore in perusing thus, so many diuerse bookes for <lb>Optima // <i>Imitation</i>, it came into my head that a verie pro-

<lb>ratio Imi- // fitable booke might be made <i>de Imitatione</i>, after <lb>tationis. // an other sort, than euer yet was attempted of that <lb>matter, conteyning a certaine fewe fitte preceptes, <lb>vnto the which should be gathered and applied plentie of <lb>examples, out of the choisest authors of both the tonges.

<lb>This worke would stand, rather in good diligence, for the <lb>gathering, and right iudgement for the apte applying of those <lb>examples: than any great learning or vtterance at all.

<lb> The doing thereof, would be more pleasant, than painfull, <lb>& would bring also moch proffet to all that should read it, and <lb>great praise to him would take it in hand, with iust desert of <lb>thankes.

<lb> <i>Erasmus</i>, giuyng him selfe to read ouer all Authors <i>Greke</i>

<lb><i>Erasmus</i> // and <i>Latin</i>, seemeth to haue prescribed to him <lb>order in his // selfe this order of readyng: that is, to note out <lb>studie. // by the way, three speciall pointes: All Adagies, <lb>

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<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 275

<lb>

<lb>all similitudes, and all wittie sayinges of most notable person-

<lb>ages: And so, by one labour, he left to posteritie, three notable <lb>bookes, & namelie two his <i>Chiliades, Apophthegmata</i> and <i>Similia</i>.

<lb>Likewise, if a good student would bend him selfe to read <lb>diligently ouer Tullie, and with him also at // {<i>Plato.</i>

<lb>the same tyme, as diligently <i>Plato</i>, & <i>Xenophon</i>, // {<i>Xenophon.</i>

<lb>with his bookes of Philosophie, <i>Isocrates</i>, & // Cicero. {<i>Isocrates.</i>

<lb><i>Demosthenes</i> with his orations, & <i>Aristotle</i> with // {<i>Demosth.</i>

<lb>his Rhetorickes: which fiue of all other, be // {<i>Aristotles.</i>

<lb>those, whom <i>Tullie</i> best loued, & specially followed: & would <lb>marke diligently in <i>Tullie</i> where he doth <i>exprimere</i> or <i>effingere</i>

<lb>(which be the verie propre wordes of Imitation) either, <i>Copiam <lb>Platonis</i> or <i>venustatem Xenophontis, suauitatem Isocratis</i>, or <i>vim <lb>Demosthenis, propriam & puram subtilitatem Aristotelis</i>, and not <lb>onelie write out the places diligentlie, and lay them together <lb>orderlie, but also to conferre them with skilfull iudgement by <lb>those few rules, which I haue expressed now twise before: if <lb>that diligence were taken, if that order were vsed, what perfite <lb>knowledge of both the tonges, what readie and pithie vtterance <lb>in all matters, what right and deepe iudgement in all kinde of <lb>learnyng would follow, is scarse credible to be beleued.

<lb> These bookes, be not many, nor long, nor rude in speach, <lb>nor meane in matter, but next the Maiestie of Gods holie word, <lb>most worthie for a man, the louer of learning and honestie, to <lb>spend his life in. Yea, I haue heard worthie <i>M. Cheke</i> many <lb>tymes say: I would haue a good student passe and iorney <lb>through all Authors both <i>Greke</i> and <i>Latin</i>: but he that will <lb>dwell in these few bookes onelie: first, in Gods holie Bible, and <lb>than ioyne with it, <i>Tullie</i> in <i>Latin, Plato, Aristotle: Xenophon: <lb>Isocrates</i>: and <i>Demosthenes</i> in <i>Greke</i>: must nedes proue an excel-

<lb>lent man.

<lb> Some men alreadie in our dayes, haue put to their helping <lb>handes, to this worke of Imitation. As <i>Peri-</i> // <i>Perionius.</i>

<lb><i>onius, Henr. Stephanus in dictionario Ciceroniano</i>, // <i>H. Steph.</i>

<lb>and <i>P. Victorius</i> most praiseworthelie of all, in // <i>P. Victor-</i>

<lb>that his learned worke conteyning xxv. bookes <i>de</i> // <i>ius.</i>

<lb><i>varia lectione</i>: in which bookes be ioyned diligentlie together the <lb>best Authors of both the tonges where one doth seeme to <lb>imitate an other.

<lb> But all these, with <i>Macrobius, Hessus</i>, and other, be no <lb>

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<lb>276 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>more but common porters, caryers, and bringers of matter and <lb>stuffe togither. They order nothing: They lay before you, <lb>what is done: they do not teach you, how it is done: They <lb>busie not them selues with forme of buildyng: They do not <lb>declare, this stuffe is thus framed by <i>Demosthenes</i>, and thus and <lb>thus by <i>Tullie</i>, and so likewise in <i>Xenophon, Plato</i> and <i>Isocrates</i>

<lb>and <i>Aristotle</i>. For ioyning <i>Virgil</i> with <i>Homer</i> I haue suf-

<lb>ficientlie declared before.

<lb> The like diligence I would wish to be taken in <i>Pindar</i> and <lb><i>Pindarus.</i> // <i>Horace</i> an equall match for all respectes.

<lb><i>Horatius.</i> // In Tragedies, (the goodliest Argument of all, <lb>and for the vse, either of a learned preacher, or a <lb>Ciuill Ientleman, more profitable than <i>Homer, Pindar, Virgill</i>, <lb>and <i>Horace</i>: yea comparable in myne opinion, with the doctrine <lb><i>Sophocles.</i> // of <i>Aristotle, Plato</i>, and <i>Xenophon</i>,) the <i>Grecians</i>,

<lb><i>Euripides.</i> // <i>Sophocles</i> and <i>Euripides</i> far ouer match our <i>Seneca</i>,

<lb><i>Seneca.</i> // in <i>Latin</i>, namely in oikonomia <i>et Decoro</i>, although <lb><i>Senacaes</i> elocution and verse be verie commendable for his tyme.

<lb>And for the matters of <i>Hercules, Thebes, Hippolytus</i>, and <i>Troie</i>, <lb>his Imitation is to be gathered into the same booke, and to be <lb>tryed by the same touchstone, as is spoken before.

<lb> In histories, and namelie in <i>Liuie</i>, the like diligence of <lb>Imitation, could bring excellent learning, and breede stayde <lb>iudgement, in taking any like matter in hand.

<lb> Onely <i>Liuie</i> were a sufficient taske for one mans studie, <lb><i>Tit. Liuius.</i> // to compare him, first with his fellow for all re-

<lb><i>Dion. Hali-</i> // spectes, <i>Dion. Halicarnassæus</i>: who both, liued in <lb><i>carn.</i> // one tyme: tooke both one historie in hande to <lb>write: deserued both like prayse of learnyng and eloquence.

<lb><i>Polibius.</i> // Than with <i>Polybius</i> that wise writer, whom <i>Liuie</i>

<lb>professeth to follow: & if he would denie it, yet <lb>it is plaine, that the best part of the thyrd <i>Decade</i> in <i>Liuie</i>, is in <lb><i>Thucidides.</i> // a maner translated out of the thyrd and rest of <lb><i>Polibius</i>: Lastlie with <i>Thucydides</i>, to whose Imita-

<lb>tion <i>Liuie</i> is curiouslie bent, as may well appeare by that one <lb>1 <i>Decad.</i> // Oration of those of <i>Campania</i>, asking aide of the <lb><i>Lib.</i> 7. // <i>Romanes</i> agaynst the <i>Samnites</i>, which is wholie <lb>taken, Sentence, Reason, Argument, and order,

<lb><i>Thucid.</i> 1. // out of the Oration of <i>Corcyra</i>, asking like aide of <lb>the <i>Athenienses</i> against them of <i>Corinth</i>. If some <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 277

<lb>

<lb>diligent student would take paynes to compare them togither, he <lb>should easelie perceiue, that I do say trew. A booke, thus <lb>wholie filled with examples of Imitation, first out of <i>Tullie</i>, <lb>compared with <i>Plato, Xenophon, Isocrates, Demosthenes</i> and <lb><i>Aristotle</i>: than out of <i>Virgil</i> and <i>Horace</i>, with <i>Homer</i> and <lb><i>Pindar</i>: next out of <i>Seneca</i> with <i>Sophocles</i> and <i>Euripides</i>: Lastlie

<lb>out of <i>Liuie</i>, with <i>Thucydides, Polibius</i> and <i>Halicarnassæus</i>, <lb>gathered with good diligence, and compared with right order, <lb>as I haue expressed before, were an other maner of worke for <lb>all kinde of learning, & namely for eloquence, than be those <lb>cold gatheringes of <i>Macrobius, Hessus, Perionius, Stephanus</i>, and <lb><i>Victorius</i>, which may be vsed, as I sayd before, in this case, as <lb>porters and caryers, deseruing like prayse, as soch men do <lb>wages; but onely <i>Sturmius</i> is he, out of whom, the trew suruey <lb>and whole workemanship is speciallie to be learned.

<lb> I trust, this my writyng shall giue some good student <lb>occasion, to take some peece in hand of this worke of Imitation.

<lb>And as I had rather haue any do it, than my // Opus de <lb>selfe, yet surelie my selfe rather than none at all. // recta imi-

<lb>And by Gods grace, if God do lend me life, with // tandi ratione.

<lb>health, free laysure and libertie, with good likyng <lb>and a merie heart, I will turne the best part of my studie and <lb>tyme, to toyle in one or other peece of this worke of Imitation.

<lb> This diligence to gather examples, to giue light and vnder-

<lb>standyng to good preceptes, is no new inuention, but speciallie vsed <lb>of the best Authors and oldest writers. For <i>Aristotle</i> // <i>Aristoteles.</i>

<lb>him selfe, (as <i>Diog. Laertius</i> declareth) when he <lb>had written that goodlie booke of the <i>Topickes</i>, did gather out <lb>of stories and Orators, so many examples as filled xv. bookes, <lb>onelie to expresse the rules of his <i>Topickes</i>. These were the <lb>Commentaries, that <i>Aristotle</i> thought fit for hys // Commen-

<lb><i>Topickes</i>: And therfore to speake as I thinke, I // tarij Græ-

<lb>neuer saw yet any Commentarie vpon <i>Aristotles</i> // ci et Lati-

<lb>Logicke, either in <i>Greke</i> or <i>Latin</i>, that euer I // ni in Dia-

<lb>lyked, bicause they be rather spent in declaryng // lect. Ari-

<lb>scholepoynt rules, than in gathering fit examples // stotelis.

<lb>for vse and vtterance, either by pen or talke. For preceptes in <lb>all Authors, and namelie in <i>Aristotle</i>, without applying vnto <lb>them, the Imitation of examples, be hard, drie, and cold, and <lb>therfore barrayn, vnfruitfull and vnpleasant. But <i>Aristotle</i>, <lb>

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<lb>278 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>namelie in his <i>Topicks</i> and <i>Elenches</i>, should be, not onelie <lb>fruitfull, but also pleasant to, if examples out of <i>Plato</i>, and <lb>other good Authors, were diligentlie gathered, and aptlie <lb>Precepta // applied vnto his most perfit preceptes there.

<lb>in Aristot. // And it is notable, that my frende <i>Sturmius</i> writeth <lb>Exempla // herein, that there is no precept in <i>Aristotles</i>

<lb>in <i>Platone.</i> // <i>Topickes</i> wherof plentie of examples be not <lb>manifest in <i>Platos</i> workes. And I heare say, that an excellent <lb>learned man, <i>Tomitanus</i> in <i>Italie</i>, hath expressed euerie fallacion <lb>in <i>Aristotle</i>, with diuerse examples out of <i>Plato</i>. Would to <lb>God, I might once see, some worthie student of <i>Aristotle</i> and <lb><i>Plato</i> in Cambrige, that would ioyne in one booke the preceptes <lb>of the one, with the examples of the other. For such a labor, <lb>were one speciall peece of that worke of Imitation, which I do <lb>wishe were gathered together in one Volume.

<lb> Cambrige, at my first comming thither, but not at my <lb>going away, committed this fault in reading the preceptes of <lb><i>Aristotle</i> without the examples of other Authors: But herein, <lb>in my time thies men of worthie memorie, <i>M. Redman</i>, <lb><i>M. Cheke, M. Smith, M. Haddon, M. Watson</i>, put so to <lb>their helping handes, as that vniuersitie, and all studentes there, <lb>as long as learning shall last, shall be bounde vnto them, if that <lb>trade in studie be trewlie folowed, which those men left behinde <lb>them there.

<lb> By this small mention of Cambridge, I am caryed into three <lb>imaginations: first, into a sweete remembrance of my tyme <lb>spent there: than, into som carefull thoughts, for the greuous <lb>alteration that folowed sone after: lastlie, into much ioy to <lb>heare tell, of the good recouerie and earnest forwardnes in all <lb>good learning there agayne.

<lb> To vtter theis my thoughts somwhat more largelie, were <lb>somwhat beside my matter, yet not very farre out of the way, <lb>bycause it shall wholy tend to the good encoragement and right <lb>consideration of learning, which is my full purpose in writing <lb>this litle booke: whereby also shall well appeare this sentence <lb>to be most trewe, that onely good men, by their gouernment <lb>& example, make happie times, in euery degree and state.

<lb> Doctor <i>Nico. Medcalfe</i>, that honorable father, was Master <lb><i>D. Nic.</i> // of <i>S. Iohnes</i> Colledge, when I came thether: A <lb><i>Medcalf.</i> // man meanelie learned himselfe, but not meanely <lb>

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<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 279

<lb>

<lb>affectioned to set forward learning in others. He found <lb>that Colledge spending scarse two hundred markes by yeare: <lb>he left it spending a thousand markes and more. Which <lb>he procured, not with his mony, but by his wisdome; not <lb>chargeablie bought by him, but liberallie geuen by others by his <lb>meane, for the zeale & honor they bare to learning. And that <lb>which is worthy of memorie, all thies giuers were almost <lb>Northenmen: who being liberallie rewarded in the seruice of <lb>their Prince, bestowed it as liberallie for the good of their <lb>Contrie. Som men thought therefore, that <i>D. Medcalfe</i> was <lb>parciall to Northrenmen, but sure I am of this, that North-

<lb>renmen were parciall, in doing more good, and geuing more <lb>landes to y<sup>e</sup> forderance of learning, than any other // The parci-

<lb>contrie men, in those dayes, did: which deede // alitie of <lb>should haue bene, rather an example of goodnes, // Northren <lb>for other to folowe, than matter of malice, for any // men in <lb>to enuie, as some there were that did. Trewly, // <i>S. Iohnes</i>

<lb><i>D. Medcalfe</i> was parciall to none: but indifferent // College.

<lb>to all: a master for the whole, a father to euery one, in that <lb>Colledge. There was none so poore, if he had, either wil to <lb>goodnes, or wit to learning, that could lacke being there, or <lb>should depart from thence for any need. I am witnes my selfe, <lb>that mony many times was brought into yong mens studies by <lb>strangers whom they knew not. In which doing, this worthy <lb><i>Nicolaus</i> folowed the steppes of good olde <i>S. Nicolaus</i>, that <lb>learned Bishop. He was a Papist in deede, but would to God, <lb>amonges all vs Protestants I might once see but one, that would <lb>winne like praise, in doing like good, for the aduauncement of <lb>learning and vertue. And yet, though he were a Papist, if any <lb>yong man, geuen to new learning (as they termed it) went <lb>beyond his fellowes, in witte, labor, and towardnes, euen the <lb>same, neyther lacked, open praise to encorage him, nor priuate <lb>exhibition to mainteyne hym, as worthy Syr <i>I. Cheke</i>, if he <lb>were aliue would beare good witnes and so can many mo.

<lb>I my selfe one of the meanest of a great number, in that <lb>Colledge, because there appeared in me som small shew of <lb>towardnes and diligence, lacked not his fauor to forder me in <lb>learning.

<lb> And being a boy, new Bacheler of arte, I chanced amonges <lb>my companions to speake against the Pope: which matter was <lb>

<lb>

<lb>280 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>than in euery mans mouth, bycause <i>D. Haines</i> and <i>D. Skippe</i>

<lb>were cum from the Court, to debate the same matter, by <lb>preaching and disputation in the vniuersitie. This hapned the <lb>same tyme, when I stoode to be felow there: my taulke came <lb>to <i>D. Medcalfes</i> eare: I was called before him and the Seniores: <lb>and after greuous rebuke, and some punishment, open warning <lb>was geuen to all the felowes, none to be so hardie to geue me <lb>his voice at that election. And yet for all those open threates, <lb>the good father himselfe priuilie procured, that I should euen <lb>than be chosen felow. But, the election being done, he made <lb>countinance of great discontentation thereat. This good mans <lb>goodnes, and fatherlie discretion, vsed towardes me that one <lb>day, shall neuer out of my remembrance all the dayes of my <lb>life. And for the same cause, haue I put it here, in this small <lb>record of learning. For next Gods prouidence, surely that day, <lb>was by that good fathers meanes, <i>Dies natalis</i>, to me, for the <lb>whole foundation of the poore learning I haue, and of all the <lb>furderance, that hetherto else where I haue obteyned.

<lb> This his goodnes stood not still in one or two, but flowed <lb>aboundantlie ouer all that Colledge, and brake out also to <lb>norishe good wittes in euery part of that vniuersitie: whereby, <lb>at this departing thence, he left soch a companie of fellowes and <lb>scholers in <i>S. Iohnes</i> Colledge, as can scarse be found now in <lb>some whole vniuersitie: which, either for diuinitie, on the one <lb>side or other, or for Ciuill seruice to their Prince and contrie, <lb>haue bene, and are yet to this day, notable ornaments to this <lb>whole Realme: Yea <i>S. Iohnes</i> did then so florish, as Trinitie <lb>college, that Princely house now, at the first erection, was but <lb><i>Colonia deducta</i> out of <i>S. Iohnes</i>, not onelie for their Master, <lb>fellowes, and scholers, but also, which is more, for their whole, <lb>both order of learning, and discipline of maners: & yet to this <lb>day, it neuer tooke Master but such as was bred vp before in <lb><i>S. Iohnes</i>: doing the dewtie of a good <i>Colonia</i> to her <i>Metropolis</i>, <lb>as the auncient Cities in Greice and some yet in Italie, at this <lb>day, are accustomed to do.

<lb> <i>S. Iohnes</i> stoode in this state, vntill those heuie tymes, and <lb>that greuous change that chanced. An. 1553. whan mo perfite <lb>scholers were dispersed from thence in one moneth, than many <lb>Psal. 80. // yeares can reare vp againe. For, whan <i>Aper de <lb>Sylua</i> had passed the seas, and fastned his foote <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 281

<lb>

<lb>againe in England, not onely the two faire groues of learning <lb>in England were eyther cut vp, by the roote, or troden downe <lb>to the ground and wholie went to wracke, but the yong spring <lb>there, and euerie where else, was pitifullie nipt and ouertroden <lb>by very beastes, and also the fairest standers of all, were rooted <lb>vp, and cast into the fire, to the great weakning euen at this <lb>day of Christes Chirch in England, both for Religion and <lb>learning.

<lb> And what good could chance than to the vniuersities, whan <lb>som of the greatest, though not of the wisest nor best learned, <lb>nor best men neither of that side, did labor to perswade, that <lb>ignorance was better than knowledge, which they ment, not for <lb>the laitie onelie, but also for the greatest rable of their spiritu-

<lb>altie, what other pretense openlie so euer they made: and <lb>therefore did som of them at Cambrige (whom I will not name <lb>openlie,) cause hedge priestes fette oute of the contrie, to be <lb>made fellowes in the vniuersitie: saying, in their talke priuilie, <lb>and declaring by their deedes openlie, that he was, felow good <lb>enough for their tyme, if he could were a gowne and a tipet <lb>cumlie, and haue hys crowne shorne faire and roundlie, and <lb>could turne his Portesse and pie readilie: whiche I speake not <lb>to reproue any order either of apparell, or other dewtie, that <lb>may be well and indifferentlie vsed, but to note the miserie of <lb>that time, whan the benefites prouided for learning were so <lb>fowlie misused. And what was the frute of this seade?

<lb>Verely, iudgement in doctrine was wholy altered: order in <lb>discipline very sore changed: the loue of good learning, began <lb>sodenly to wax cold: the knowledge of the tonges (in spite of <lb>some that therein had florished) was manifestly contemned: <lb>and so, y<sup>e</sup> way of right studie purposely peruerted: the choice <lb>of good authors of mallice confownded. Olde sophistrie (I say <lb>not well) not olde, but that new rotten sophistrie began to <lb>beard and sholder logicke in her owne tong: yea, I know, that <lb>heades were cast together, and counsell deuised, that <i>Duns</i>, with <lb>all the rable of barbarous questionistes, should haue dispossessed <lb>of their place and rowmes, <i>Aristotle, Plato, Tullie</i>, // <i>Aristoteles.</i>

<lb>and <i>Demosthenes</i>, when good <i>M. Redman</i>, and // <i>Plato.</i>

<lb>those two worthy starres of that vniuersitie, // <i>Cicero.</i>

<lb><i>M. Cheke</i>, and <i>M. Smith</i>, with their scholers, had // <i>Demost.</i>

<lb>brought to florishe as notable in Cambrige, as

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>282 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>euer they did in Grece and in Italie: and for the doctrine of <lb>those fowre, the fowre pillers of learning, Cambrige than geuing <lb>place to no vniuersitie, neither in France, Spaine, Germanie, <lb>nor Italie. Also in outward behauiour, than began simplicitie <lb>in apparell, to be layd aside: Courtlie galantnes to be taken vp: <lb>frugalitie in diet was priuately misliked: Towne going to good <lb>Shoting. // cheare openly vsed: honest pastimes, ioyned with <lb>labor, left of in the fieldes: vnthrifty and idle <lb>games, haunted corners, and occupied the nightes: contention <lb>in youth, no where for learning: factions in the elders euery <lb>where for trifles. All which miseries at length, by Gods <lb>prouidence, had their end 16. <i>Nouemb.</i> 1558. Since which <lb>tyme, the yong spring hath shot vp so faire, as now there be in <lb>Cambrige againe, many goodly plantes (as did well appeare at <lb>the Queenes Maiesties late being there) which are like to grow <lb>to mightie great timber, to the honor of learning, and great good <lb>of their contrie, if they may stand their tyme, as the best <lb>plantes there were wont to do: and if som old dotterell trees, <lb>with standing ouer nie them, and dropping vpon them, do not <lb>either hinder, or crooke their growing, wherein my feare is y<sup>e</sup>

<lb>lesse, seing so worthie a Iustice of an Oyre hath the present <lb>ouersight of that whole chace, who was himselfe somtym, in <lb>the fairest spring that euer was there of learning, one of the <lb>forwardest yong plantes, in all that worthy College of <i>S. Iohnes</i>: <lb>who now by grace is growne to soch greatnesse, as, in the <lb>temperate and quiet shade of his wisdome, next the prouidence <lb>of God, and goodnes of one, in theis our daies, <i>Religio</i> for <lb>sinceritie, <i>literæ</i> for order and aduauncement, <i>Respub.</i> for happie <lb>and quiet gouernment, haue to great rejoysing of all good men, <lb>speciallie reposed them selues.

<lb> Now to returne to that Question, whether one, a few, many <lb>or all, are to be folowed, my aunswere shalbe short: All, for <lb>him that is desirous to know all: yea, the worst of all, as <lb>Questionistes, and all the barbarous nation of scholemen, helpe <lb>for one or other consideration: But in euerie separate kinde of <lb>learning and studie, by it selfe, ye must follow, choiselie a few, <lb>and chieflie some one, and that namelie in our schole of <lb>eloquence, either for penne or talke. And as in portraicture <lb>and paintyng wise men chose not that workman, that can onelie <lb>make a faire hand, or a well facioned legge but soch one, as can <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 283

<lb>

<lb>furnish vp fullie, all the fetures of the whole body, of a man, <lb>woman and child: and with all is able to, by good skill, to giue <lb>to euerie one of these three, in their proper kinde, the right <lb>forme, the trew figure, the naturall color, that is fit and dew, <lb>to the dignitie of a man, to the bewtie of a woman, to the <lb>sweetnes of a yong babe: euen likewise, do we seeke soch one <lb>in our schole to folow, who is able alwayes, in all matters, to <lb>teach plainlie, to delite pleasantlie, and to cary away by force of <lb>wise talke, all that shall heare or read him: and is so excellent <lb>in deed, as witte is able, or wishe can hope, to attaine vnto: <lb>And this not onelie to serue in the <i>Latin</i> or <i>Greke</i> tong, but <lb>also in our own English language. But yet, bicause the prouid-

<lb>ence of God hath left vnto vs in no other tong, saue onelie in <lb>the <i>Greke</i> and <i>Latin</i> tong, the trew preceptes, and perfite <lb>examples of eloquence, therefore must we seeke in the Authors <lb>onelie of those two tonges, the trewe Paterne of Eloquence, if <lb>in any other mother tongue we looke to attaine, either to perfit <lb>vtterance of it our selues, or skilfull iudgement of it in others.

<lb> And now to know, what Author doth medle onelie with <lb>some one peece and member of eloquence, and who doth <lb>perfitelie make vp the whole bodie, I will declare, as I can call <lb>to remembrance the goodlie talke, that I haue had oftentymes, <lb>of the trew difference of Authors, with that Ientleman of <lb>worthie memorie, my dearest frend, and teacher of all the litle <lb>poore learning I haue, Syr <i>Iohn Cheke</i>.

<lb> The trew difference of Authors is best knowne, <i>per diuersa <lb>genera dicendi</i>, that euerie one vsed. And therfore here I will <lb>deuide <i>genus dicendi</i>, not into these three, <i>Tenuè, mediocrè, &

<lb>grande</i>, but as the matter of euerie Author requireth, as <lb>

<lb> {<i>Poeticum.</i>

<lb> {<i>Historicum.</i>

<lb> <i>in Genus</i>{<i>Philosophicum.</i>

<lb> {<i>Oratorium.</i>

<lb>

<lb> These differre one from an other, in choice of wordes, in <lb>framyng of Sentences, in handling of Argumentes, and vse of <lb>right forme, figure, and number, proper and fitte for euerie <lb>matter, and euerie one of these is diuerse also in it selfe, as the <lb>first.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>284 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Comicum.</i>

<lb> {<i>Tragicum.</i>

<lb> <i>Poeticum, in</i> {<i>Epicum.</i>

<lb> {<i>Melicum.</i>

<lb>

<lb> And here, who soeuer hath bene diligent to read aduisedlie <lb>ouer, <i>Terence, Seneca, Virgil, Horace</i>, or els <i>Aristophanes, Sophocles, <lb>Homer</i>, and <i>Pindar</i>, and shall diligently marke the difference <lb>they vse, in proprietie of wordes, in forme of sentence, in <lb>handlyng of their matter, he shall easelie perceiue, what is fitte <lb>and <i>decorum</i> in euerie one, to the trew vse of perfite Imitation.

<lb>Whan <i>M. Watson</i> in S. Iohns College at Cambrige wrote his <lb>excellent Tragedie of <i>Absalon, M. Cheke</i>, he and I, for that part <lb>of trew Imitation, had many pleasant talkes togither, in com-

<lb>paring the preceptes of <i>Aristotle</i> and <i>Horace de Arte Poetica</i>, <lb>with the examples of <i>Euripides, Sophocles</i>, and <i>Seneca</i>. Few <lb>men, in writyng of Tragedies in our dayes, haue shot at this <lb>marke. Some in <i>England</i>, moe in <i>France, Germanie</i>, and <i>Italie</i>, <lb>also haue written Tragedies in our tyme: of the which, not <lb>one I am sure is able to abyde the trew touch of <i>Aristotles</i>

<lb>preceptes, and <i>Euripides</i> examples, saue only two, that euer I <lb>saw, <i>M. Watsons Absalon</i>, and <i>Georgius Buckananus Iephthe</i>.

<lb>One man in Cambrige, well liked of many, but best liked of <lb>him selfe, was many tymes bold and busie, to bryng matters <lb>vpon stages, which he called Tragedies. In one, wherby he <lb>looked to wynne his spurres, and whereat many ignorant felowes <lb>fast clapped their handes, he began the <i>Protasis</i> with <i>Trochæijs <lb>Octonarijs</i>: which kinde of verse, as it is but seldome and rare <lb>in Tragedies, so is it neuer vsed, saue onelie in <i>Epitasi</i>: whan <lb>the Tragedie is hiest and hotest, and full of greatest troubles.

<lb>I remember ful well what <i>M. Watson</i> merelie sayd vnto me of <lb>his blindnesse and boldnes in that behalfe although otherwise, <lb>there passed much frendship betwene them. <i>M. Watson</i> had an <lb>other maner care of perfection, with a feare and reuerence of <lb>the iudgement of the best learned: Who to this day would <lb>neuer suffer, yet his <i>Absalon</i> to go abroad, and that onelie, <lb>bicause, in <i>locis paribus, Anapestus</i> is twise or thrise vsed in stede <lb>of <i>Iambus</i>. A smal faulte, and such one, as perchance would <lb>neuer be marked, no neither in <i>Italie</i> nor <i>France</i>. This I write, <lb>not so much, to note the first, or praise the last, as to leaue in <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 285

<lb>

<lb>memorie of writing, for good example to posteritie, what <lb>perfection, in any tyme, was, most diligentlie sought for in like <lb>maner, in all kinde of learnyng, in that most worthie College <lb>of S. Iohns in Cambrige.

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Diaria.</i>

<lb> {<i>Annales.</i>

<lb> <i>Historicum in</i> {<i>Commentarios.</i>

<lb> {<i>Iustam Historiam.</i>

<lb>

<lb> For what proprietie in wordes, simplicitie in sentences, <lb>plainnesse and light, is cumelie for these kindes, <i>Cæsar</i> and <lb><i>Liuie</i>, for the two last, are perfite examples of Imitation: And <lb>for the two first, the old paternes be lost, and as for some that <lb>be present and of late tyme, they be fitter to be read once for <lb>some pleasure, than oft to be perused, for any good Imitation of <lb>them.

<lb>

<lb> <i>Philosophicum in</i> {<i>Sermonem</i>, as <i>officia Cic. et Eth. Arist.</i>

<lb> {<i>Contentionem.</i>

<lb>

<lb> As, the Dialoges of <i>Plato, Xenophon</i>, and <i>Cicero</i>: of which <lb>kinde of learnyng, and right Imitation therof, <i>Carolus Sigonius</i>

<lb>hath written of late, both learnedlie and eloquentlie: but best <lb>of all my frende <i>Ioan. Sturmius</i> in hys Commentaries vpon <lb><i>Gorgias Platonis</i>, which booke I haue in writyng, and is not yet <lb>set out in Print.

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Humile.</i>

<lb> <i>Oratorium in</i> {<i>Mediocre.</i>

<lb> {<i>Sublime.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Examples of these three, in the <i>Greke</i> tong, be plentifull &

<lb>perfite, as <i>Lycias, Isocrates</i>, and <i>Demosthenes</i>: and // <i>Lisias.</i>

<lb>all three, in onelie <i>Demosthenes</i>, in diuerse orations // <i>Isocrates.</i>

<lb>as <i>contra Olimpiodorum, in leptinem, & pro Ctesi-</i> // <i>Demost.</i>

<lb><i>phonte</i>. And trew it is, that <i>Hermogines</i> writeth <lb>of <i>Demosthenes</i>, that all formes of Eloquence be perfite in him.

<lb>In <i>Ciceroes</i> Orations, <i>Medium & sublime</i> be most // <i>Cicero.</i>

<lb>excellentlie handled, but <i>Humile</i> in his Orations, <lb>is seldome sene: yet neuerthelesse in other bookes, as in some <lb>part of his offices, & specially <i>in Partitionibus</i>, he is comparable <lb><i>in hoc humili & disciplinabili genere</i>, euen with the best that euer <lb>

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<lb>286 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>wrote in <i>Greke</i>. But of <i>Cicero</i> more fullie in fitter place. And <lb>thus, the trew difference of stiles, in euerie Author, and euerie <lb>kinde of learnyng may easelie be knowne by this diuision.

<lb>

<lb> {<i>Poeticum.</i>

<lb> {<i>Historicum.</i>

<lb> <i>in Genus</i> {<i>Philosophicum.</i>

<lb> {<i>Oratorium.</i>

<lb>

<lb> Which I thought in this place to touch onelie, not to <lb>prosecute at large, bicause, God willyng, in the <i>Latin</i> tong, <lb>I will fullie handle it, in my booke <i>de Imitatione</i>.

<lb> Now, to touch more particularlie, which of those Authors, <lb>that be now most commonlie in mens handes, will sone affourd <lb>you some peece of Eloquence, and what maner a peece of <lb>eloquence, and what is to be liked and folowed, and what to <lb>be misliked and eschewed in them: and how some agayne will <lb>furnish you fully withall, rightly, and wisely considered, som-

<lb>what I will write as I haue heard Syr <i>Ihon Cheke</i> many tymes <lb>say.

<lb> The Latin tong, concerning any part of purenesse of it, <lb>from the spring, to the decay of the same, did not endure moch <lb>longer, than is the life of a well aged man, scarse one hundred <lb>yeares from the tyme of the last <i>Scipio Africanus</i> and <i>Lælius</i>, to <lb>the Empire of <i>Augustus</i>. And it is notable, that <i>Velleius Pater-

<lb>culus</i> writeth of <i>Tullie</i>, how that the perfection of eloquence did <lb>so remayne onelie in him and in his time, as before him, were <lb>few, which might moch delight a man, or after him any, worthy <lb>admiration, but soch as <i>Tullie</i> might haue seene, and such as <lb>might haue seene <i>Tullie</i>. And good cause why: for no perfec-

<lb>tion is durable. Encrease hath a time, & decay likewise, but <lb>all perfit ripenesse remaineth but a moment: as is plainly seen <lb>in fruits, plummes and cherries: but more sensibly in flowers, <lb>as Roses & such like, and yet as trewlie in all greater matters.

<lb>For what naturallie, can go no hier, must naturallie yeld &

<lb>stoup againe.

<lb> Of this short tyme of any purenesse of the Latin tong, for <lb>the first fortie yeare of it, and all the tyme before, we haue no <lb>peece of learning left, saue <i>Plautus</i> and <i>Terence</i>, with a litle <lb>rude vnperfit pamflet of the elder <i>Cato</i>. And as for <i>Plautus</i>, <lb>except the scholemaster be able to make wise and ware choice, <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 287

<lb>

<lb>first in proprietie of wordes, than in framing of Phrases and <lb>sentences, and chieflie in choice of honestie of matter, your <lb>scholer were better to play, then learne all that is in him. But <lb>surelie, if iudgement for the tong, and direction for the maners, <lb>be wisely ioyned with the diligent reading of <i>Plautus</i>, than <lb>trewlie <i>Plautus</i>, for that purenesse of the Latin tong in Rome, <lb>whan Rome did most florish in wel doing, and so thereby, in <lb>well speaking also, is soch a plentifull storehouse, for common <lb>eloquence, in meane matters, and all priuate mens affaires, as <lb>the Latin tong, for that respect, hath not the like agayne.

<lb>Whan I remember the worthy tyme of Rome, wherein <i>Plautus</i>

<lb>did liue, I must nedes honor the talke of that tyme, which we <lb>see <i>Plautus</i> doth vse.

<lb> <i>Terence</i> is also a storehouse of the same tong, for an other <lb>tyme, following soone after, & although he be not so full &

<lb>plentiful as <i>Plautus</i> is, for multitude of matters, & diuersitie of <lb>wordes, yet his wordes, be chosen so purelie, placed so orderly, <lb>and all his stuffe so neetlie packed vp, and wittely compassed in <lb>euerie place, as, by all wise mens iudgement, he is counted the <lb>cunninger workeman, and to haue his shop, for the rowme that <lb>is in it, more finely appointed, and trimlier ordered, than <lb><i>Plautus</i> is.

<lb> Three thinges chiefly, both in <i>Plautus</i> and <i>Terence</i>, are to <lb>be specially considered. The matter, the vtterance, the words, <lb>the meter. The matter in both, is altogether within the <lb>compasse of the meanest mens maners, and doth not stretch <lb>to any thing of any great weight at all, but standeth chiefly in <lb>vtteryng the thoughtes and conditions of hard fathers, foolish <lb>mothers, vnthrifty yong men, craftie seruantes, sotle bawdes, <lb>and wilie harlots, and so, is moch spent, in finding out fine <lb>fetches, and packing vp pelting matters, soch as in London <lb>commonlie cum to the hearing of the Masters of Bridewell.

<lb>Here is base stuffe for that scholer, that should becum hereafter, <lb>either a good minister in Religion, or a Ciuill Ientleman in <lb>seruice of his Prince and contrie: except the preacher do know <lb>soch matters to confute them, whan ignorance surelie in all soch <lb>thinges were better for a Ciuill Ientleman, than knowledge.

<lb>And thus, for matter, both <i>Plautus</i> and <i>Terence</i>, be like meane <lb>painters, that worke by halfes, and be cunning onelie, in making <lb>the worst part of the picture, as if one were skilfull in painting <lb>

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<lb>288 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>the bodie of a naked person, from the nauell downward, but <lb>nothing else.

<lb> For word and speach, <i>Plautus</i> is more plentifull, and <i>Terence</i>

<lb>more pure and proper: And for one respect, <i>Terence</i> is to be <lb>embraced aboue all that euer wrote in hys kinde of argument: <lb>Bicause it is well known, by good recorde of learning, and that <lb>by <i>Ciceroes</i> owne witnes that some Comedies bearyng <i>Terence</i>

<lb>name, were written by worthy <i>Scipio</i>, and wise <i>Lælius</i>, and <lb>namely <i>Heauton</i>: and <i>Adelphi</i>. And therefore as oft as I reade <lb>those Comedies, so oft doth sound in myne eare, the pure fine <lb>talke of Rome, which was vsed by the floure of the worthiest <lb>nobilitie that euer Rome bred. Let the wisest man, and best <lb>learned that liueth, read aduisedlie ouer, the first scene of <lb><i>Heauton</i>, and the first scene of <i>Adelphi</i>, and let him consideratlie <lb>iudge, whether it is the talke of a seruile stranger borne, or <lb>rather euen that milde eloquent wise speach, which <i>Cicero</i> in <lb><i>Brutus</i> doth so liuely expresse in <i>Lælius</i>. And yet neuerthelesse, <lb>in all this good proprietie of wordes, and purenesse of phrases <lb>which be in <i>Terence</i>, ye must not follow him alwayes in placing <lb>of them, bicause for the meter sake, some wordes in him, <lb>somtyme, be driuen awrie, which require a straighter placing in <lb>plaine prose, if ye will forme, as I would ye should do, your <lb>speach and writing, to that excellent perfitnesse, which was <lb>onely in <i>Tullie</i>, or onelie in <i>Tullies</i> tyme.

<lb> The meter and verse of <i>Plautus</i> and <i>Terence</i> be verie meane, <lb><i>Meter in</i> // and not to be followed: which is not their reproch, <lb><i>Plautus &</i> // but the fault of the tyme, wherein they wrote, whan <lb><i>Terence.</i> // no kinde of Poetrie, in the Latin tong, was brought <lb>to perfection, as doth well appeare in the fragmentes <lb>of <i>Ennius, Cæcilius</i>, and others, and euidentlie in <i>Plautus</i> &

<lb><i>Terence</i>, if thies in Latin be compared with right skil, with <i>Homer</i>, <lb><i>Euripides, Aristophanes</i>, and other in Greeke of like sort. <i>Cicero</i>

<lb>him selfe doth complaine of this vnperfitnes, but more plainly <lb><i>Quintilian</i>, saying, <i>in Comœdia maximè claudicamus, et vix leuem <lb>consequimur vmbram</i>: and most earnestly of all <i>Horace in Arte <lb>Poetica</i>, which he doth namely <i>propter carmen Iambicum</i>, and <lb>referreth all good studentes herein to the Imitation of the Greeke <lb>tong, saying.

<lb> <i>Exemplaria Græca

<lb> nocturna versate manu, versate diurna.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 289

<lb>

<lb> This matter maketh me gladly remember, my sweete tyme <lb>spent at Cambrige, and the pleasant talke which I had oft with <lb><i>M. Cheke</i>, and <i>M. Watson</i>, of this fault, not onely in the olde <lb>Latin Poets, but also in our new English Rymers at this day.

<lb>They wished as <i>Virgil</i> and <i>Horace</i> were not wedded to follow <lb>the faultes of former fathers (a shrewd mariage in greater <lb>matters) but by right <i>Imitation</i> of the perfit Grecians, had <lb>brought Poetrie to perfitnesse also in the Latin tong, that we <lb>Englishmen likewise would acknowledge and vnderstand right-

<lb>fully our rude beggerly ryming, brought first into Italie by <lb><i>Gothes</i> and <i>Hunnes</i>, whan all good verses and all good learning <lb>to, were destroyd by them: and after caryed into France and <lb>Germanie: and at last, receyued into England by men of <lb>excellent wit in deede, but of small learning, and lesse iudge-

<lb>ment in that behalfe.

<lb> But now, when men know the difference, and haue the <lb>examples, both of the best, and of the worst, surelie, to follow <lb>rather the <i>Gothes</i> in Ryming, than the Greekes in trew versifiyng, <lb>were euen to eate ackornes with swyne, when we may freely <lb>eate wheate bread emonges men. In deede, <i>Chauser, Th.

<lb>Norton</i>, of Bristow, my L. of Surrey, <i>M. Wiat, Th. Phaer</i>, <lb>and other Ientlemen, in translating <i>Ouide, Palingenius</i>, and <lb><i>Seneca</i>, haue gonne as farre to their great praise, as the copie <lb>they followed could cary them, but, if soch good wittes, and <lb>forward diligence, had bene directed to follow the best examples, <lb>and not haue bene caryed by tyme and custome, to content <lb>themselues with that barbarous and rude Ryming, emonges <lb>their other worthy praises, which they haue iustly deserued, <lb>this had not bene the least, to be counted emonges men of <lb>learning and skill, more like vnto the Grecians, than vnto the <lb>Gothians, in handling of their verse.

<lb> In deed, our English tong, hauing in vse chiefly, wordes of <lb>one syllable which commonly be long, doth not well receiue the <lb>nature of <i>Carmen Heroicum</i>, bicause <i>dactylus</i>, the aptest foote <lb>for that verse, conteining one long & two short, is seldom there-

<lb>fore found in English: and doth also rather stumble than stand <lb>vpon <i>Monosyllabis. Quintilian</i> in hys learned Chapiter // hand.gif <lb><i>de Compositione</i>, geueth this lesson <i>de Monosyllabis</i>, <lb>before me: and in the same place doth iustlie inuey against all <lb>Ryming, that if there be any, who be angrie with me, for <lb>

<lb>

<lb>290 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>misliking of Ryming, may be angry for company to, with <lb><i>Quintilian</i> also, for the same thing: And yet <i>Quintilian</i> had <lb>not so iust cause to mislike of it than, as men haue at this day.

<lb> And although <i>Carmen Exametrum</i> doth rather trotte and <lb>hoble, than runne smothly in our English tong, yet I am sure, <lb>our English tong will receiue <i>carmen Iambicum</i> as naturallie, as <lb>either <i>Greke</i> or <i>Latin</i>. But for ignorance, men can not like, &

<lb>for idlenes, men will not labor, to cum to any perfitenes at all.

<lb>For, as the worthie Poetes in <i>Athens</i> and <i>Rome</i>, were more <lb>carefull to satisfie the iudgement of one learned, than rashe in <lb>pleasing the humor of a rude multitude, euen so if men in <lb>England now, had the like reuerend regard to learning skill and <lb>iudgement, and durst not presume to write, except they came <lb>with the like learnyng, and also did vse like diligence, in <lb>searchyng out, not onelie iust measure in euerie meter, as euerie <lb>ignorant person may easely do, but also trew quantitie in euery <lb>foote and sillable, as onelie the learned shalbe able to do, and as <lb>the <i>Grekes</i> and <i>Romanes</i> were wont to do, surelie than rash <lb>ignorant heads, which now can easely recken vp fourten sillables, <lb>and easelie stumble on euery Ryme, either durst not, for lacke <lb>of such learnyng: or els would not, in auoyding such labor, be <lb>hand.gif // so busie, as euerie where they be: and shoppes in <lb>London should not be so full of lewd and rude

<lb>rymes, as commonlie they are. But now, the ripest of tong, <lb>be readiest to write: And many dayly in setting out bookes and <lb>balettes make great shew of blossomes and buddes, in whom is <lb>neither, roote of learning, nor frute of wisedome at all. Some that <lb>make <i>Chaucer</i> in English and <i>Petrarch</i> in <i>Italian</i>, their Gods in <lb>verses, and yet be not able to make trew difference, what is <lb>a fault, and what is a iust prayse, in those two worthie wittes, <lb>will moch mislike this my writyng. But such men be euen <lb>like followers of <i>Chaucer</i> and <i>Petrarke</i>, as one here in England <lb>did folow Syr <i>Tho. More</i>: who, being most vnlike vnto him, in <lb>wit and learnyng, neuertheles in wearing his gowne awrye vpon <lb>the one shoulder, as Syr <i>Tho. More</i> was wont to do, would <lb>nedes be counted lyke vnto him.

<lb> This mislikyng of Ryming, beginneth not now of any <lb>newfangle singularitie, but hath bene long misliked of many, <lb>and that of men, of greatest learnyng, and deepest iudgement.

<lb>And soch, that defend it, do so, either for lacke of knowledge <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 291

<lb>

<lb>what is best, or els of verie enuie, that any should performe that <lb>in learnyng, whereunto they, as I sayd before, either for <lb>ignorance, can not, or for idlenes will not, labor to attaine vnto.

<lb> And you that prayse this Ryming, bicause ye neither haue <lb>reason, why to like it, nor can shew learning to defend it, yet I <lb>will helpe you, with the authoritie of the oldest and learnedst <lb>tyme. In <i>Grece</i>, whan Poetrie was euen at the hiest pitch of per-

<lb>fitnes, one <i>Simmias Rhodius</i> of a certaine singularitie wrote a <lb>booke in ryming <i>Greke</i> verses, naming it oon, conteyning the <lb>fable, how <i>Iupiter</i> in likenes of a swan, gat that egge vpon <i>Leda</i>, <lb>whereof came <i>Castor, Pollux</i> and faire <i>Elena</i>. This booke was <lb>so liked, that it had few to read it, but none to folow it: <lb>But was presentlie contemned: and sone after, both Author and <lb>booke, so forgotten by men, and consumed by tyme, as scarse <lb>the name of either is kept in memorie of learnyng: And the like <lb>folie was neuer folowed of any, many hondred yeares after <lb>vntill y<sup>e</sup> <i>Hunnes</i> and <i>Gothians</i>, and other barbarous nations, of <lb>ignorance and rude singularitie, did reuiue the same folie agayne.

<lb> The noble Lord <i>Th.</i> Earle of Surrey, first of all English <lb>men, in translating the fourth booke of <i>Virgill</i>: // The Earle of <lb>and <i>Gonsaluo Periz</i> that excellent learned man, // Surrey.

<lb>and Secretarie to kyng <i>Philip</i> of <i>Spaine</i>, in // <i>Gonsaluo</i>

<lb>translating the <i>Vlisses of Homer</i> out of <i>Greke</i> into // <i>Periz.</i>

<lb><i>Spanish</i>, haue both, by good iudgement, auoyded the fault of <lb>Ryming, yet neither of them hath fullie hite perfite and trew <lb>versifiyng. In deede, they obserue iust number, and euen feete: <lb>but here is the fault, that their feete: be feete without ioyntes, <lb>that is to say, not distinct by trew quantitie of sillables: And so, <lb>soch feete, be but numme feete: and be, euen as vnfitte for <lb>a verse to turne and runne roundly withall, as feete of brasse or <lb>wood be vnweeldie to go well withall. And as a foote of wood, <lb>is a plaine shew of a manifest maime, euen so feete, in our <lb>English versifiing, without quantitie and ioyntes, be sure signes, <lb>that the verse is either, borne deformed, vnnaturall and lame, <lb>and so verie vnseemlie to looke vpon, except to men that be <lb>gogle eyed them selues.

<lb> The spying of this fault now is not the curiositie of English <lb>eyes, but euen the good iudgement also of the best // <i>Senese</i>

<lb>that write in these dayes in <i>Italie</i>: and namelie of // <i>Felice</i>

<lb>that worthie <i>Senese Felice Figliucci</i>, who, writyng // <i>Figliucci.</i>

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>292 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>vpon <i>Aristotles Ethickes</i> so excellentlie in <i>Italian</i>, as neuer did yet <lb>any one in myne opinion either in <i>Greke</i> or <i>Latin</i>, amongest <lb>other thynges doth most earnestlie inuey agaynst the rude <lb>ryming of verses in that tong: And whan soeuer he expresseth <lb><i>Aristotles</i> preceptes, with any example, out of <i>Homer</i> or <lb><i>Euripides</i>, he translateth them, not after the Rymes of <i>Petrarke</i>, <lb>but into soch kinde of perfite verse, with like feete and quantitie <lb>of sillables, as he found them before in the <i>Greke</i> tonge: ex-

<lb>hortyng earnestlie all the <i>Italian</i> nation, to leaue of their rude <lb>barbariousnesse in ryming, and folow diligently the excellent <lb><i>Greke</i> and <i>Latin</i> examples, in trew versifiyng.

<lb> And you, that be able to vnderstand no more, then ye finde <lb>in the <i>Italian</i> tong: and neuer went farder than the schole of <lb><i>Petrarke</i> and <i>Ariostus</i> abroad, or els of <i>Chaucer</i> at home though <lb>you haue pleasure to wander blindlie still in your foule wrong <lb>way, enuie not others, that seeke, as wise men haue done before <lb>them, the fairest and rightest way: or els, beside the iust <lb>reproch of malice, wisemen shall trewlie iudge, that you do so, <lb>as I haue sayd and say yet agayne vnto you, bicause, either, for <lb>idlenes ye will not, or for ignorance ye can not, cum by no <lb>better your selfe.

<lb> And therfore euen as <i>Virgill</i> and <i>Horace</i> deserue most <lb>worthie prayse, that they spying the vnperfitnes in <i>Ennius</i> and <lb><i>Plautus</i>, by trew Imitation of <i>Homer</i> and <i>Euripides</i>, brought <lb>Poetrie to the same perfitnes in <i>Latin</i>, as it was in <i>Greke</i>, euen <lb>so those, that by the same way would benefite their tong <lb>and contrey, deserue rather thankes than disprayse in that <lb>behalfe.

<lb> And I rejoyce, that euen poore England preuented <i>Italie</i>, <lb>first in spying out, than in seekyng to amend this fault in <lb>learnyng.

<lb> And here, for my pleasure I purpose a litle, by the way, to <lb>play and sporte with my Master <i>Tully</i>: from whom commonlie <lb>I am neuer wont to dissent. He him selfe, for this point of <lb>learnyng, in his verses doth halt a litle by his leaue. He could <lb>not denie it, if he were aliue, nor those defend hym now that <lb>Tullies // loue him best. This fault I lay to his charge: <lb>saying a- // bicause once it pleased him, though somwhat <lb>gainst Eng- // merelie, yet oueruncurteslie, to rayle vpon poore <lb>land. // England, obiecting both, extreme beggerie, and <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 293

<lb>

<lb>mere barbariousnes vnto it, writyng thus vnto his frend <i>Atticus</i>: <lb>There is not one scruple of siluer in that whole // Ad Att.

<lb>Isle, or any one that knoweth either learnyng or // Lib. iv. Ep.

<lb>letter. // 16.

<lb> But now master <i>Cicero</i>, blessed be God, and his sonne Iesu <lb>Christ, whom you neuer knew, except it were as it pleased him <lb>to lighten you by some shadow, as couertlie in one place ye <lb>confesse saying: <i>Veritatis tantum vmbram consectamur</i>, // Offic.

<lb>as your Master <i>Plato</i> did before you: blessed be <lb>God, I say, that sixten hundred yeare after you were dead and <lb>gone, it may trewly be sayd, that for siluer, there is more <lb>cumlie plate, in one Citie of England, than is in foure of the <lb>proudest Cities in all <i>Italie</i>, and take <i>Rome</i> for one of them.

<lb>And for learnyng, beside the knowledge of all learned tongs and <lb>liberall sciences, euen your owne bookes <i>Cicero</i>, be as well read, <lb>and your excellent eloquence is as well liked and loued, and as <lb>trewlie folowed in England at this day, as it is now, or euer <lb>was, sence your owne tyme, in any place of <i>Italie</i>, either at <lb><i>Arpinum</i>, where ye were borne, or els at <i>Rome</i> where ye were <lb>brought vp. And a litle to brag with you <i>Cicero</i>, where you <lb>your selfe, by your leaue, halted in some point of learnyng in <lb>your owne tong, many in England at this day go streight vp, <lb>both in trewe skill, and right doing therein.

<lb> This I write, not to reprehend <i>Tullie</i>, whom, aboue all <lb>other, I like and loue best, but to excuse <i>Terence</i>, because in his <lb>tyme, and a good while after, Poetrie was neuer perfited in <lb><i>Latin</i> vntill by trew <i>Imitation</i> of the Grecians, it was at length <lb>brought to perfection: And also thereby to exhorte the goodlie <lb>wittes of England, which apte by nature, & willing by desire, <lb>geue them selues to Poetrie, that they, rightly vnderstanding the <lb>barbarous bringing in of Rymes, would labor, as <i>Virgil</i> and <lb><i>Horace</i> did in Latin, to make perfit also this point of learning, <lb>in our English tong.

<lb> And thus much for <i>Plautus</i> and <i>Terence</i>, for matter, tong, and <lb>meter, what is to be followed, and what to be exchewed in them.

<lb> After <i>Plautus</i> and <i>Terence</i>, no writing remayneth vntill <lb><i>Tullies</i> tyme, except a fewe short fragmentes of <i>L. Crassus</i>

<lb>excellent wit, here and there recited of <i>Cicero</i> for example sake, <lb>whereby the louers of learnyng may the more lament the losse <lb>of soch a worthie witte.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>294 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb> And although the Latin tong did faire blome and blossome <lb>in <i>L. Crassus</i>, and <i>M. Antonius</i>, yet in <i>Tullies</i> tyme onely, and <lb>in Tullie himselfe chieflie, was the Latin tong fullie ripe, and <lb>growne to the hiest pitch of all perfection.

<lb> And yet in the same tyme, it began to fade and stoupe, as <lb><i>Tullie</i> him selfe, in <i>Brutus de Claris Oratoribus</i>, with weeping <lb>wordes doth witnesse.

<lb> And bicause, emongs them of that tyme, there was some <lb>difference, good reason is, that of them of that tyme, should be <lb>made right choice also. And yet let the best <i>Ciceronian</i> in <lb>Italie read <i>Tullies</i> familiar epistles aduisedly ouer, and I beleue <lb>he shall finde small difference, for the Latin tong, either in <lb>propriety of wordes or framing of the stile, betwixt <i>Tullie</i>, and <lb>those that write vnto him. As <i>ser. Sulpitius, A. Cecinna, <lb>M. Cælius, M. et D. Bruti, A. Pollio, L. Plancus</i>, and diuerse <lb>Epi. Planci // other: read the epistles of <i>L. Plancus</i> in <i>x. Lib.</i>

<lb>x. lib. Epist. // and for an assay, that Epistle namely to the <i>Coss.</i>

<lb>8. // and whole <i>Senate</i>, the eight Epistle in number, <lb>and what could be, eyther more eloquentlie, or more wiselie <lb>written, yea by <i>Tullie</i> himselfe, a man may iustly doubt. Thies <lb>men and <i>Tullie</i>, liued all in one tyme, were like in authoritie, <lb>not vnlike in learning and studie, which might be iust causes of <lb>this their equalitie in writing: And yet surely, they neyther <lb>were in deed, nor yet were counted in mens opinions, equall <lb>with <i>Tullie</i> in that facultie. And how is the difference hid in <lb>his Epistles? verelie, as the cunning of an expert Sea man, in <lb>a faire calme fresh Ryuer, doth litle differ from the doing of <lb>a meaner workman therein, euen so, in the short cut of a <lb>priuate letter, where, matter is common, wordes easie, and <lb>order not moch diuerse, small shew of difference can appeare.

<lb>But where <i>Tullie</i> doth set vp his saile of eloquence, in some <lb>broad deep Argument, caried with full tyde and winde, of his <lb>witte and learnyng, all other may rather stand and looke after <lb>him, than hope to ouertake him, what course so euer he hold, <lb>either in faire or foule. Foure men onely whan the Latin tong <lb>was full ripe, be left vnto vs, who in that tyme did florish, and <lb>did leaue to posteritie, the fruite of their witte and learning: <lb><i>Varro, Salust, Cæsar</i>, and <i>Cicero</i>. Whan I say, these foure <lb>onely, I am not ignorant, that euen in the same tyme, most <lb>excellent Poetes, deseruing well of the Latin tong, as <i>Lucretius</i>, <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 295

<lb>

<lb><i>Cattullus, Virgill</i> and <i>Horace</i>, did write: But, bicause, in this <lb>litle booke, I purpose to teach a yong scholer, to go, not to <lb>daunce: to speake, not to sing, whan Poetes in deed, namelie <lb><i>Epici</i> and <i>Lyrici</i>, as these be, are fine dauncers, and trime <lb>singers, but <i>Oratores</i> and <i>Historici</i> be those cumlie goers, and <lb>faire and wise speakers, of whom I wishe my scholer to wayte <lb>vpon first, and after in good order, & dew tyme, to be brought <lb>forth, to the singing and dauncing schole: And for this consi-

<lb>deration, do I name these foure, to be the onelie writers of that <lb>tyme.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ <i>Varro.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Varro</i>, in his bookes <i>de lingua Latina, et Analogia</i> as these be <lb>left mangled and patched vnto vs, doth not enter // <i>Varro.</i>

<lb>there in to any great depth of eloquence, but as

<lb>one caried in a small low vessell him selfe verie nie the common <lb>shore, not much vnlike the fisher men of Rye, and Hering men <lb>of Yarmouth. Who deserue by common mens opinion, small <lb>commendacion, for any cunning saling at all, yet neuertheles <lb>in those bookes of <i>Varro</i> good and necessarie stuffe, for that <lb>meane kinde of Argument, be verie well and learnedlie gathered <lb>togither.

<lb> His bookes of Husbandrie, are moch to be regarded, and <lb>diligentlie to be read, not onelie for the proprietie, // De Rep.

<lb>but also for the plentie of good wordes, in all // Rustica.

<lb>contrey and husbandmens affaires: which can not

<lb>be had, by so good authoritie, out of any other Author, either <lb>of so good a tyme, or of so great learnyng, as out of <i>Varro</i>.

<lb>And yet bicause, he was fourescore yeare old, whan he wrote <lb>those bookes, the forme of his style there compared with <i>Tullies</i>

<lb>writyng, is but euen the talke of a spent old man: whose <lb>wordes commonlie fall out of his mouth, though verie wiselie, <lb>yet hardly and coldie, and more heauelie also, than some eares <lb>can well beare, except onelie for age, and authorities sake. And <lb>perchance, in a rude contrey argument, of purpose and iudge-

<lb>ment, he rather vsed, the speach of the contrey, than talke of <lb>the Citie.

<lb> And so, for matter sake, his wordes sometyme, be somewhat <lb>rude: and by the imitation of the elder <i>Cato</i>, old and out of vse: <lb>

<lb>

<lb>296 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>And beyng depe stept in age, by negligence some wordes do so <lb>scape & fall from him in those bookes, as be not worth the <lb>Lib. 3. // taking vp, by him, that is carefull to speake or <lb>Cap. 1. // write trew Latin, as that sentence in him, <i>Romani, <lb>in pace à rusticis alebantur, et in bello ab his tuebantur</i>.

<lb>A good student must be therfore carefull and diligent, to read <lb>with iudgement ouer euen those Authors, which did write in the <lb>most perfite tyme: and let him not be affrayd to trie them, <lb>both in proprietie of wordes, and forme of style, by the touch <lb>stone of <i>Cæsar</i> and <i>Cicero</i>, whose puritie was neuer soiled, no <lb>not by the sentence of those, that loued them worst.

<lb> All louers of learnyng may sore lament the losse of those <lb>The loue // bookes of <i>Varro</i>, which he wrote in his yong and <lb>of Var- // lustie yeares, with good leysure, and great learnyng <lb>roes // of all partes of Philosophie: of the goodliest argu-

<lb>bookes. // mentes, perteyning both to the common wealth, <lb>and priuate life of man, as, <i>de Ratione studij, et educandis liberis</i>, <lb>which booke, is oft recited, and moch praysed, in the fragmentes <lb>of <i>Nonius</i>, euen for authoritie sake. He wrote most diligentlie <lb>and largelie, also the whole historie of the state of <i>Rome</i>: the <lb>mysteries of their whole Religion: their lawes, customes, and <lb>gouernement in peace: their maners, and whole discipline in <lb>warre: And this is not my gessing, as one in deed that neuer <lb>saw those bookes, but euen, the verie iudgement, & playne <lb>testimonie of <i>Tullie</i> him selfe, who knew & read those bookes, <lb>in these wordes: <i>Tu ætatem Patriæ: Tu descriptiones temporum:</i>

<lb>In Acad. // <i>Tu sacrorum, tu sacerdotum Iura: Tu domesticam, <lb>Quest. // <i>tu bellicam disciplinam: Tu sedem Regionum, locorum,</i>

<lb><i>tu omnium diuinarum humanarumque rerum nomina, <lb>genera, officia, causas aperuisti. &c.</i>

<lb> But this great losse of <i>Varro</i>, is a litle recompensed by the <lb>happy comming of <i>Dionysius Halicarnassæus</i> to <i>Rome</i> in <lb><i>Augustus</i> dayes: who getting the possession of <i>Varros</i> librarie, <lb>out of that treasure house of learning, did leaue vnto vs some <lb>frute of <i>Varros</i> witte and diligence, I meane, his goodlie bookes <lb><i>de Antiquitatibus Romanorum. Varro</i> was so estemed for his <lb>excellent learnyng, as <i>Tullie</i> him selfe had a reuerence to his <lb>Cic. ad // iudgement in all doutes of learnyng. And <lb>Att. // <i>Antonius Triumuir</i>, his enemie, and of a contrarie <lb>faction, who had power to kill and bannish whom

<lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 297

<lb>

<lb>he listed, whan <i>Varros</i> name amongest others was brought in a <lb>schedule vnto him, to be noted to death, he tooke his penne and <lb>wrote his warrant of sauegard with these most goodlie wordes, <lb><i>Viuat Varro vir doctissimus</i>. In later tyme, no man knew better, <lb>nor liked and loued more <i>Varros</i> learnyng, than did <i>S. Augustine</i>, <lb>as they do well vnderstand, that haue diligentlie read ouer his <lb>learned bookes <i>de Ciuitate Dei</i>: Where he hath this most <lb>notable sentence: Whan I see, how much <i>Varro</i> wrote, I <lb>meruell much, that euer he had any leasure to read: and whan <lb>I perceiue how many thinges he read, I meruell more, that euer <lb>he had any leasure to write. &c.

<lb> And surelie, if <i>Varros</i> bookes had remained to posteritie, as <lb>by Gods prouidence, the most part of <i>Tullies</i> did, than trewlie <lb>the <i>Latin</i> tong might haue made good comparison with the <lb><i>Greke</i>.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Saluste.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Salust</i>, is a wise and worthy writer: but he requireth <lb>a learned Reader, and a right considerer of him. // <i>Salust.</i>

<lb>My dearest frend, and best master that euer I had // Syr Iohn <lb>or heard in learning, Syr <i>I. Cheke</i>, soch a man, as // Chekes <lb>if I should liue to see England breed the like // iudgement <lb>againe, I feare, I should liue ouer long, did once // and coun-

<lb>giue me a lesson for <i>Salust</i>, which, as I shall neuer // sell for rea-

<lb>forget my selfe, so is it worthy to be remembred // dyng of <lb>of all those, that would cum to perfite iudgement // <i>Saluste.</i>

<lb>of the Latin tong. He said, that <i>Salust</i> was not verie fitte for <lb>yong men, to learne out of him, the puritie of the Latin tong: <lb>because, he was not the purest in proprietie of wordes, nor <lb>choisest in aptnes of phrases, nor the best in framing of <lb>sentences: and therefore is his writing, sayd he neyther plaine <lb>for the matter, nor sensible for mens vnderstanding. And what <lb>is the cause thereof, Syr, quoth I. Verilie said he, bicause in <lb><i>Salust</i> writing, is more Arte than nature, and more labor than <lb>Arte: and in his labor also, to moch toyle, as it were, with an <lb>vncontented care to write better than he could, a fault common <lb>to very many men. And therefore he doth not expresse the <lb>matter liuely and naturally with common speach as ye see <lb><i>Xenophon</i> doth in Greeke, but it is caried and driuen forth <lb>

<lb>

<lb>298 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb>artificiallie, after to learned a sorte, as <i>Thucydides</i> doth in his <lb>orations. And how cummeth it to passe, sayd I, that <i>Cæsar</i>

<lb>and <i>Ciceroes</i> talke, is so naturall & plaine, and <i>Salust</i> writing so <lb>artificiall and darke, whan all they three liued in one tyme?

<lb>I will freelie tell you my fansie herein, said he: surely, <i>Cæsar</i>

<lb>and <i>Cicero</i>, beside a singular prerogatiue of naturall eloquence <lb>geuen vnto them by God, both two, by vse of life, were daylie <lb>orators emonges the common people, and greatest councellers in <lb>the Senate house: and therefore gaue themselues to vse soch <lb>speach as the meanest should well vnderstand, and the wisest <lb>best allow: folowing carefullie that good councell of <i>Aristotle</i>, <lb><i>loquendum vt multi, sapiendum vt pauci</i>. <i>Salust</i> was no soch man, <lb>neyther for will to goodnes, nor skill by learning: but ill geuen <lb>by nature, and made worse by bringing vp, spent the most part <lb>of his yougth very misorderly in ryot and lechery. In the <lb>company of soch, who, neuer geuing theyr mynde to honest <lb>doyng, could neuer inure their tong to wise speaking. But at <lb>last cummyng to better yeares, and bying witte at the dearest <lb>hand, that is, by long experience of the hurt and shame that <lb>commeth of mischeif, moued, by the councell of them that <lb>were wise, and caried by the example of soch as were good, <lb>first fell to honestie of life, and after to the loue of studie and <lb>learning: and so became so new a man, that <i>Cæsar</i> being <lb>dictator, made him Pretor in <i>Numidia</i> where he absent from his <lb>contrie, and not inured with the common talke of Rome, but <lb>shut vp in his studie, and bent wholy to reading, did write the <lb>storie of the Romanes. And for the better accomplishing of <lb>the same, he red <i>Cato</i> and <i>Piso</i> in Latin for gathering of matter <lb>and troth: and <i>Thucydides</i> in Greeke for the order of his storie, <lb>and furnishing of his style. <i>Cato</i> (as his tyme required) had <lb>more troth for the matter, than eloquence for the style. And <lb>so <i>Salust</i>, by gathering troth out of <i>Cato</i>, smelleth moch of the <lb>roughnes of his style: euen as a man that eateth garlike for <lb>helth, shall cary away with him the sauor of it also, whether he <lb>will or not. And yet the vse of old wordes is not the greatest <lb>cause of <i>Salustes</i> roughnes and darknesse: There be in <i>Salust</i>

<lb>Lib. 8. // some old wordes in deed as <i>patrare bellum, ductare</i>

<lb>Cap. 3. // <i>exercitum</i>, well noted by <i>Quintilian</i>, and verie <lb>De Orna- // much misliked of him: and <i>supplicium</i> for <i>suppli-</i>

<lb>tu. // <i>catio</i>, a word smellyng of an older store than the <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 299

<lb>

<lb>other two so misliked by <i>Quint</i>: And yet is that word also in <lb><i>Varro</i>, speaking of Oxen thus, <i>boues ad victimas faciunt, atque ad <lb>Deorum supplicia</i>: and a few old wordes mo. Read <i>Saluste</i> and <lb><i>Tullie</i> aduisedly together: and in wordes ye shall finde small <lb>difference: yea <i>Salust</i> is more geuen to new wordes, than to <lb>olde, though som olde writers say the contrarie: as <i>Claritudo</i>

<lb>for <i>Gloria</i>: <i>exactè</i> for <i>perfectè</i>: <i>Facundia</i> for <i>eloquentia</i>. Thies

<lb>two last wordes <i>exactè</i> and <i>facundia</i> now in euery mans mouth, <lb>be neuer (as I do remember) vsed of <i>Tullie</i>, and therefore <lb>I thinke they be not good: For surely <i>Tullie</i> speaking euery <lb>where so moch of the matter of eloquence, would not so <lb>precisely haue absteyned from the word <i>Facundia</i>, if it had <lb>bene good: that is proper for the tong, & common for mens <lb>vse. I could be long, in reciting many soch like, both olde &

<lb>new wordes in <i>Salust</i>: but in very dede neyther oldnes nor <lb>newnesse of wordes maketh the greatest difference // The cause why <lb>betwixt <i>Salust</i> and <i>Tullie</i>, but first strange phrases // Salust is not <lb>made of good Latin wordes, but framed after the // like Tully.

<lb>Greeke tonge, which be neyther choisly borowed of them, nor <lb>properly vsed by him: than, a hard composition and crooked <lb>framing of his wordes and sentences, as a man would say, <lb>English talke placed and framed outlandish like. As for <lb>example first in phrases, <i>nimius et animus</i> be two vsed wordes, <lb>yet <i>homo nimius animi</i>, is an vnused phrase. <i>Vulgus, et amat, et <lb>fieri</i>, be as common and well known wordes, as may be in the <lb>Latin tong, yet <i>id quod vulgò amat fieri</i>, for <i>solet fieri</i>, is but <lb>a strange and grekish kind of writing. <i>Ingens et vires</i> be <lb>proper wordes, yet <i>vir ingens virium</i> is an vnproper kinde of <lb>speaking and so be likewise,

<lb>

<lb> {<i>æger consilij.</i>

<lb> {<i>promptissimus belli.</i>

<lb> {<i>territus animi.</i>

<lb>

<lb>and many soch like phrases in <i>Salust</i>, borowed as I sayd not <lb>choisly out of Greeke, and vsed therefore vnproperlie in Latin.

<lb>Againe, in whole sentences, where the matter is good, the <lb>wordes proper and plaine, yet the sense is hard and darke, and <lb>namely in his prefaces and orations, wherein he vsed most <lb>labor, which fault is likewise in <i>Thucydides</i> in Greeke, of whom <lb><i>Salust</i> hath taken the greatest part of his darkenesse. For <lb>

<lb>

<lb>300 <i>The second booke teachyng</i>

<lb>

<lb><i>Thucydides</i> likewise wrote his storie, not at home in Grece, but <lb>abrode in Italie, and therefore smelleth of a certaine outlandish <lb>kinde of talke, strange to them of <i>Athens</i>, and diuerse from their <lb>writing, that liued in Athens and Grece, and wrote the same <lb>tyme that <i>Thucydides</i> did, as <i>Lysias, Xenophon, Plato</i>, and <lb><i>Isocrates</i>, the purest and playnest writers, that euer wrote in any <lb>tong, and best examples for any man to follow whether he <lb>write, Latin, Italian, French, or English. <i>Thucydides</i> also <lb>semeth in his writing, not so much benefited by nature, as <lb>holpen by Arte, and caried forth by desire, studie, labor, toyle, <lb>and ouer great curiositie: who spent xxvii. yeares in writing his <lb>eight bookes of his history. <i>Salust</i> likewise wrote out of his <lb>Dionys. // contrie, and followed the faultes of <i>Thuc.</i> to <lb>Halycar. // moch: and boroweth of him som kinde of writing, <lb>ad Q. which the Latin tong can not well beare, as <i>Casus<i>

<lb>Tub. de // <i>nominatiuus</i> in diuerse places <i>absolutè positus</i>, as in <lb>Hist. Thuc. // that place of <i>Iugurth</i>, speaking <i>de leptitanis, itaque ab <lb>imperatore facilè quæ petebant adepti, missæ sunt eò cohortes ligurum

<lb>quatuor</i>. This thing in participles, vsed so oft in <i>Thucyd.</i> and other <lb>Greeke authors to, may better be borne with all, but <i>Salust</i> vseth <lb>the same more strangelie and boldlie, as in thies wordes, <i>Multis <lb>sibi quisque imperium petentibus</i>. I beleue, the best Grammarien in <lb>England can scarse giue a good reule, why <i>quisque</i> the nominatiue <lb>case, without any verbe, is so thrust vp amongest so many <lb>oblique cases. Some man perchance will smile, and laugh to <lb>scorne this my writyng, and call it idle curiositie, thus to busie <lb>my selfe in pickling about these small pointes of Grammer, not <lb>fitte for my age, place and calling, to trifle in: I trust that man, <lb>be he neuer so great in authoritie, neuer so wise and learned, <lb>either, by other mens iudgement, or his owne opinion, will yet <lb>thinke, that he is not greater in England, than <i>Tullie</i> was at <lb><i>Rome</i>, not yet wiser, nor better learned than <i>Tullie</i> was him <lb>selfe, who, at the pitch of three score yeares, in the middes of <lb>the broyle betwixt <i>Cæsar</i> and <i>Pompeie</i>, whan he knew not, <lb>whether to send wife & children, which way to go, where to <lb>hide him selfe, yet, in an earnest letter, amongest his earnest <lb>Ad Att. // councelles for those heuie tymes concerning both <lb>Lib. 7. Epi- // the common state of his contrey, and his owne <lb>stola. 3. // priuate great affaires he was neither vnmyndfull <lb>nor ashamed to reason at large, and learne gladlie of <i>Atticus</i>, <lb>

<lb>

<lb><i>the ready way to the Latin tong.</i> 301

<lb>

<lb>a lesse point of Grammer than these be, noted of me in <i>Salust</i>, <lb>as, whether he should write, <i>ad Piræea, in Piræea</i>, or <i>in <lb>Piræeum</i>, or <i>Piræeum sine præpositione:</i> And in those heuie <lb>tymes, he was so carefull to know this small point of Grammer, <lb>that he addeth these wordes <i>Si hoc mihi zetema persolueris, <lb>magna me molestia liberaris</i>. If <i>Tullie</i>, at that age, in that <lb>authoritie, in that care for his contrey, in that ieoperdie for him <lb>selfe, and extreme necessitie of hys dearest frendes, beyng also <lb>the Prince of Eloquence hym selfe, was not ashamed to descend <lb>to these low pointes of Grammer, in his owne naturall tong, <lb>what should scholers do, yea what should any man do, if he do <lb>thinke well doyng, better than ill doyng: And had rather be, <lb>perfite than meane, sure than doutefull, to be what he should <lb>be, in deed, not seeme what he is not, in opinion. He that <lb>maketh perfitnes in the <i>Latin</i> tong his marke, must cume to it <lb>by choice & certaine knowledge, not stumble vpon it by chance <lb>and doubtfull ignorance: And the right steppes to reach vnto it, <lb>be these, linked thus orderlie together, aptnes of nature, loue of <lb>learnyng, diligence in right order, constancie with pleasant <lb>moderation, and alwayes to learne of them that be best, and so <lb>shall you iudge as they that be wisest. And these be those <lb>reules, which worthie Master <i>Cheke</i> dyd impart vnto me con-

<lb>cernyng <i>Salust</i>, and the right iudgement of the <i>Latin</i> tong.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb> ¶ <i>Cæsar.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Cæsar</i> for that litle of him, that is left vnto vs, is like the <lb>halfe face of a <i>Venus</i>, the other part of the head beyng hidden, <lb>the bodie and the rest of the members vnbegon, yet so <lb>excellentlie done by <i>Apelles</i>, as all men may stand still to mase <lb>and muse vpon it, and no man step forth with any hope to <lb>performe the like.

<lb> His seuen bookes <i>de bello Gallico</i>, and three <i>de bello Ciuili</i>, be <lb>written, so wiselie for the matter, so eloquentlie for the tong, <lb>that neither his greatest enemies could euer finde the least note <lb>of parcialitie in him (a meruelous wisdome of a man, namely <lb>writyng of his owne doynges) nor yet the best iudegers of the <lb><i>Latin</i> tong, nor the most enuious lookers vpon other mens <lb>writynges, can say any other, but all things be most perfitelie <lb>done by him.

<lb>

<lb>

<lb>302 <i>The ready way to the Latin tong.</i>

<lb>

<lb> <i>Brutus, Caluus</i>, and <i>Calidius</i>, who found fault with <i>Tullies</i>

<lb>fulnes in woordes and matter, and that rightlie, for <i>Tullie</i> did <lb>both, confesse it, and mend it, yet in <i>Cæsar</i>, they neither did, <lb>nor could finde the like, or any other fault.

<lb> And therfore thus iustlie I may conclude of <i>Cæsar</i>, that <lb>where, in all other, the best that euer wrote, in any tyme, or in <lb>any tong, in <i>Greke</i> or <i>Latin</i>, I except neither <i>Plato, Demosthenes</i>, <lb>nor <i>Tullie</i>, some fault is iustlie noted, in <i>Cæsar</i> onelie, could <lb>neuer yet fault be found.

<lb> Yet neuertheles, for all this perfite excellencie in <lb>him, yet it is but in one member of eloquence, and <lb>that but of one side neither, whan we must

<lb>looke for that example to folow, which hath

<lb>a perfite head, a whole bodie, forward

<lb>and backward, armes and

<lb>legges and all.

<lb>

<lb><i>FINIS.</i>

<lb>

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Scholemaster, by Roger Ascham End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Schoolmaster, by Roger Ascham