Essays of Francis Bacon.....................................................................................................................................1

Francis Bacon ...........................................................................................................................................1

SALOMON saies; A good Name is as a precious oyntment; And I assure my selfe, such wil your Graces

Name bee, with Posteritie. For your Fortune, and Merit both, have been Eminent. And you have planted

Things, that are like to last. I doe now publish my Essayes; which, of all my other workes, have beene most

Currant: For that, as it seemes, they come home, to Mens Businesse, and Bosomes. I have enlarged them,

both in Number, and Weight; So that they are indeed a New Worke. I thought it therefore agreeable, to my

Affection, and Obligation to your Grace, to prefix your Name before them, both in English, and in Latine. For

I doe conceive, that the Latine Volume of them, (being in the Universall Language) may last, as long as

Bookes last. My Instauration, I dedicated to the King: My Historie of Henry the Seventh, (which I have now

also translated into Latine) and my Portions of Naturall History, to the Prince: And these I dedicate to your

Grace; Being of the best Fruits, that by the good Encrease, which God gives to my Pen and Labours, I could

yeeld. God leade your Grace by the Hand. Your Graces most Obliged and faithfull Servant,

WHAT is truth? said jesting Pilate,and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be, that delight in

giddiness, and count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting freewill in thinking, as well as in acting. And

though the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain certain dis coursing wits, which are

of the same veins, though there be not so much blood in them, as was in those of the ancients. But it is not

only the difficulty and labor, which men take in finding out of truth, nor again, that when it is found, it

imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a natural, though corrupt love, of the lie

itself. One of the later school of the Grecians, examineth the matter, and is at a stand, to think what should be

in it, that men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets, nor for advan tage, as

with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell; this same truth, is a naked, and open daylight, that

doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs, of the world, half so stately and daintily as

candlelights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to

the price of a diamond, or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add

pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes,

false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds, of a number of men,

poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?

One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum daemonum, because it fireth the imagina tion; and

yet, it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh

in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we spake of before. But how soever these things are thus in

men's depraved judgments, and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of

truth, which is the lovemaking, or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the

belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in

the works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last, was the light of reason; and his sabbath work ever

since, is the illumina tion of his Spirit. First he breathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he

breathed light, into the face of man; and still he breatheth and in spireth light, into the face of his chosen.

The poet, that beautified the sect, that was otherwise in ferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a

pleasure, to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea; a pleasure, to stand in the win dow of

a castle, and to see a battle, and the adven tures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the standing

upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and serene),

and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below; so always that this prospect

be with pity, and not with swelling, or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in

To pass from theological, and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil business; it will be ac knowledged,

even by those that practise it not, that clear, and round dealing, is the honor of man's nature; and that mixture

of falsehoods, is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it

embaseth it. For these winding, and crooked courses, are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon

the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice, that doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false

and perfidious. And therefore Montaigne saith pret tily, when he inquired the reason, why the word of the

lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious charge? Saith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man

lieth, is as much to say, as that he is brave towards God, and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and

shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood, and breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly

expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal, to call the judgments of God upon the generations of men; it

being foretold, that when Christ cometh, he shall not find faith upon the earth.

MEN fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children, is increased with tales,

so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is

holy and relig ious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations,

there is some times mixture of vanity, and of superstition. You shall read, in some of the friars' books of

mortifica tion, that a man should think with himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed,

or tortured, and thereby imagine, what the pains of death are, when the whole body is corrupted, and

dissolved; when many times death passeth, with less pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts,

are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as a philosopher, and nat ural man, it was well

said, Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors ipsa. Groans, and convulsions, and a discolored face, and friends

weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is

no passion in the mind of man, so weak, but it mates, and masters, the fear of death; and therefore, death is no

such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him, that can win the combat of him.

Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear preoccupateth it; nay,

we read, after Otho the em peror had slain himself, pity (which is the tender est of affections) provoked

many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds

niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed etiam

fastidiosus potest. A man would die, though he were neither valiant, nor miserable, only upon a weariness to

do the same thing so oft, over and over. It is no less worthy, to observe, how little alteration in good spirits,

the approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same men, till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died

in a compliment; Livia, con jugii nostri memor, vive et vale. Tiberius in dissi mulation; as Tacitus saith of

him, Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant. Ves pasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool;

Ut puto deus fio. Galba with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani; holding forth his neck. Septimius

Severus in despatch; Adeste si quid mihi restat agendum. And the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too

much cost upon death, and by their great prepara tions, made it appear more fearful. Better saith he, qui

finem vitae extremum inter munera ponat naturae. It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant,

perhaps, the one is as painful, as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in

hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon somewhat that is

good, doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is', Nunc dimittis; when a

man hath obtained worthy ends, and expectations. Death hath this also; that it openeth the gate to good fame,

RELIGION being the chief band of human so ciety, it is a happy thing, when itself is well contained within

the true band of unity. The quarrels, and divisions about religion, were evils unknown to the heathen. The

reason was, because the religion of the heathen, consisted rather in rites and ceremonies, than in any constant

belief. For you may imagine, what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors, and fathers of their

church, were the poets. But the true God hath this attribute, that he is a jealous God; and therefore, his

worship and religion, will endure no mixture, nor partner.We shall therefore speak a few words, concerning

the unity of the church; what are the fruits thereof ; what the bounds; and what the means.

The fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is all in all) are two: the one, towards those that

are without the church, the other, towards those that are within. For the former; it is certain, that heresies, and

schisms, are of all others the greatest scandals; yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural

body, a wound, or solution of continuity, is worse than a corrupt humor; so in the spiritual. So that nothing,

doth so much keep men out of the church, and drive men out of the church, as breach of unity. And there

fore, whensoever it cometh to that pass, that one saith, Ecce in deserto, another saith, Ecce in pene tralibus;

that is, when some men seek Christ, in the conventicles of heretics, and others, in an outward face of a

church, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears, Nolite exire, Go not out. The doctor of the

Gentiles (the propriety of whose vocation, drew him to have a special care of those without) saith, if an

heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he not say that you are mad? And certainly it

is little better, when atheists, and profane persons, do hear of so many discordant, and contrary opinions in

re ligion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh them, to sit down in the chair of the scorners. It is

but a light thing, to be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the deformity. There is a

master of scoffing, that in his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down this title of a book, The

MorrisDance of Heretics. For indeed, every sect of them, hath a diverse pos ture, or cringe by themselves,

which cannot but move derision in worldlings, and depraved politics, who are apt to contemn holy things.

As for the fruit towards those that are within; it is peace; which containeth infinite blessings. It establisheth

faith; it kindleth charity; the outward peace of the church, distilleth into peace of con science; and it turneth

the labors of writing, and reading of controversies, into treaties of mortifica tion and devotion.

Concerning the bounds of unity; the true plac ing of them, importeth exceedingly. There appear to be two

extremes. For to certain zealants, all speech of pacification is odious. Is it peace, Jehu,? What hast thou to do

with peace? turn thee be hind me. Peace is not the matter, but following, and party. Contrariwise, certain

Laodiceans, and lukewarm persons, think they may accommodate points of religion, by middle way, and

taking part of both, and witty reconcilements; as if they would make an arbitrament between God and man.

Both these extremes are to be avoided; which will be done, if the league of Christians, penned by our Savior

himself, were in two cross clauses thereof, soundly and plainly expounded: He that is not with us, is against

us; and again, He that is not against us, is with us; that is, if the points funda mental and of substance in

religion, were truly discerned and distinguished, from points not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or

good in tention. This is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial, and done already. But if it were done less

Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model. Men ought to take heed, of rend ing God's

church, by two kinds of controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point contro verted, is too small

and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled only by contradiction. For, as it is noted, by one of

the fathers, Christ's coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers colors; whereupon he

saith, In veste varietas sit, scissura non sit; they be two things, unity and uniformity. The other is, when the

matter of the point controverted, is great, but it is driven to an overgreat subtilty, and obscurity; so that it

becometh a thing rather ingenious, than substantial. A man that is of judgment and under standing, shall

sometimes hear ignorant men dif fer, and know well within himself, that those which so differ, mean one

thing, and yet they themselves would never agree. And if it come so to pass, in that distance of judgment,

which is be tween man and man, shall we not think that God above, that knows the heart, doth not discern

that frail men, in some of their contradictions, intend the same thing; and accepteth of both? The nature of

such controversies is excellently expressed, by St. Paul, in the warning and precept, that he giveth concerning

the same, Devita profanas vocum novi tates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientiae. Men create oppositions,

which are not; and put them into new terms, so fixed, as whereas the meaning ought to govern the term, the

term in effect gov erneth the meaning.There be also two false peaces, or unities: the one, when the peace is

grounded, but upon an implicit ignorance; for all colors will agree in the dark: the other, when it is pieced up,

upon a direct admission of contraries, in funda mental points. For truth and falsehood, in such things, are

like the iron and clay, in the toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image; they may cleave, but they will not incorporate.

Concerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that in the procuring, or reuniting, of religious

unity, they do not dissolve and deface the laws of charity, and of human society. There be two swords

amongst Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and both have their due office and place, in the maintenance

of religion. But we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it; that is, to

propagate religion by wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force consciences; except it be in cases of overt

scandal, blasphemy, or intermixture of practice against the state; much less to nourish seditions; to author

ize conspiracies and rebellions; to put the sword into the people's hands; and the like; tending to the

subversion of all government, which is the ordinance of God. For this is but to dash the first table against the

second; and so to consider men as Christians, as we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, when he

beheld the act of Aga memnon, that could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed: Tantum

What would he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France, or the powder treason of England? He

would have been seven times more Epicure, and atheist, than he was. For as the tem poral sword is to be

drawn with great circumspec tion in cases of religion; so it is a thing monstrous to put it into the hands of

the common people. Let that be left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. It was great blasphemy, when the

devil said, I will ascend, and be like the highest; but it is greater blasphemy, to personate God, and bring him

in saying, I will descend, and be like the prince of darkness; and what is it better, to make the cause of

religion to descend, to the cruel and execrable actions of murthering princes, butchery of people, and

subversion of states and governments? Surely this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of

a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven; and set, out of the bark of a Christian church, a flag of a bark of

pirates, and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary, that the church, by doctrine and decree, princes by their

sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their Mercury rod, do damn and send to hell for

ever, those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same; as hath been already in good part done.

Surely in counsels concerning religion, that coun sel of the apostle would be prefixed, Ira hominis non

implet justitiam Dei. And it was a notable observation of a wise father, and no less ingenu ously confessed;

that those which held and per suaded pressure of consciences, were commonly interested therein.,

REVENGE is a kind of wild justice; which the more man' s nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out.

For as for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong, putteth the law out of

office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior;

for it is a prince's part to pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man, to pass by an

offence. That which is past is gone, and irrevocable; and wise men have enough to do, with things present

and to come; therefore they do but trifle with themselves, that labor in past matters. There is no man doth a

wrong, for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like.

Therefore why should I be angry with a man, for loving himself better than me? And if any man should do

wrong, merely out of illnature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or briar, which prick and scratch, because

they can do no other. The most tolerable sort of revenge, is for those wrongs which there is no law to remedy;

but then let a man take heed, the revenge be such as there is no law to punish; else a man's enemy is still

before hand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous, the party should know,

whence it cometh. This is the more gener ous. For the delight seemeth to be, not so much in doing the hurt,

as in making the party repent. But base and crafty cowards, are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus,

duke of Florence, had a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were

unpardonable; You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive our enemies; but you never read,

that we are commanded to forgive our friends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we (saith

he) take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also? And so of friends in a proportion. This is

certain, that a man that studieth revenge, keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal, and do

well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate; as that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax;

for the death of Henry the Third of France; and many more. But in private revenges, it is not so. Nay rather,

vindic tive persons live the life of witches; who, as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate.

IT WAS an high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics), that the good things, which belong to

prosperity, are to be wished; but the good things, that belong to adversity, are to be admired. Bona rerum

secundarum optabilia; ad versarum mirabilia. Certainly if miracles be the command over nature, they appear

most in adver sity. It is yet a higher speech of his, than the other (much too high for a heathen), It is true

greatness, to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security of a God. Vere magnum habere fragilitatem

homi nis, securitatem Dei. This would have done better in poesy, where transcendences are more allowed.

And the poets indeed have been busy with it; for it is in effect the thing, which figured in that strange fiction

of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the state of

a Christian; that Hercules, when he went to unbind Prometheus (by whom human nature is represented),

sailed the length of the great ocean, in an earthen pot or pitcher; lively describing Christian resolution, that

saileth in the frail bark of the flesh, through the waves of the world. But to speak in a mean. The virtue of

pros perity, is temperance; the virtue of adversity, is fortitude; which in morals is the more heroical virtue.

Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testa ment; adversity is the blessing of the New; which carrieth the

greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to

David's harp, you shall hear as many hearselike airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored

more in de scribing the afflictions of Job, than the felicities of Solomon. Prosperity is not without many

fears and distastes; and adversity is not without com forts and hopes. We see in needleworks and em

broideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work, upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and

melancholy work, upon a lightsome ground: judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart, by the pleasure of

the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed: for

DISSIMULATION is but a faint kind of pol icy, or wisdom; for it asketh a strong wit, and a strong heart, to

know when to tell truth, and to do it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics, that are the great dissemblers.

Tacitus saith, Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband, and dissimulation of her son; attri buting arts or

policy to Augustus, and dissimula tion to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth Vespasian, to

take arms against Vitel lius, he saith, We rise not against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the

extreme caution or closeness of Tiberius. These properties, of arts or policy, and dissimulation or closeness,

are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be distin guished. For if a man have that penetration of

judgment, as he can discern what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and what to be showed

at half lights, and to whom and when (which indeed are arts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth

them), to him, a habit of dis simulation is a hinderance and a poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that

judgment, then it is left to bim generally, to be close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose, or

vary in parti culars, there it is good to take the safest, and wari est way, in general; like the going softly, by

one that cannot well see. Certainly the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness, and frankness, of

dealing; and a name of certainty and veracity; but then they were like horses well managed; for they could tell

passing well, when to stop or turn; and at such times, when they thought the case indeed required

dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former opin ion, spread abroad, of their good faith

There be three degrees of this hiding and veil ing of a man's self. The first, closeness, reservation, and

secrecy; when a man leaveth himself without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The

second, dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not, that he is.

And the third, simulation, in the affirmative; when a man industriously and ex pressly feigns and pretends to

For the first of these, secrecy; it is indeed the virtue of a confessor. And assuredly, the secret man heareth

many confessions. For who will open himself, to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it

inviteth discovery; as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and as in con fession, the revealing is not

for worldly use, but for the ease of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in that

kind; while men rather discharge their minds, than impart their minds. In few words, mysteries are due to

secrecy. Besides (to say truth) nakedness is un comely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no small

reverence, to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether open. As for talkers and futile persons, they

are commonly vain and credu lous withal. For he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk what he

knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that an habit of secrecy, is both politic and moral. And in this part, it is

good that a man's face give his tongue leave to speak. For the discovery of a man' s self, by the tracts of his

countenance, is a great weakness and betraying; by how much it is many times more marked, and believed,

For the second, which is dissimulation; it fol loweth many times upon secrecy, by a necessity; so that he that

will be secret, must be a dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning, to suffer a man to keep an

indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without swaying the bal ance on either side. They will so

beset a man with questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an absurd silence, he must

show an inclination one way; or if he do not, they will gather as much by his silence, as by his speech. As for

equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they can not hold out long. So that no man can be secret, except he

give himself a little scope of dissimula tion; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy.

But for the third degree, which is simulation, and false profession; that I hold more culpable, and less politic;

except it be in great and rare mat ters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is this last

degree) is a vice, using either of a natural falseness or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults,

which because a man must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simulation in other things, lest his hand

The great advantages of simulation and dissi mulation are three. First, to lay asleep opposition, and to

surprise. For where a man's intentions are published, it is an alarum, to call up all that are against them. The

second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat. For if a man engage himself by a manifest declaration, he

must go through or take a fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another. For to him that opens

himself, men will hardly show themselves adverse; but will fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of

speech, to freedom of thought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, Tell a lie and find a

troth. As if there were no way of discovery, but by simulation. There be also three disadvantages, to set it

even. The first, that simulation and dissi mulation commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, which

in any business, doth spoil the feathers, of round flying up to the mark. The sec ond, that it puzzleth and

perplexeth the conceits of many, that perhaps would otherwise cooperate with him; and makes a man walk

almost alone, to his own ends. The third and greatest is, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal

in struments for action; which is trust and belief. The best composition and temperature, is to have openness

in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; dissimulation in seasonable use; and a power to feign, if there be no

THE joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears. They cannot utter the one; nor they will not

utter the other. Children sweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase the cares of

life; but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but

memory, merit, and noble works, are proper to men. And surely a man shall see the noblest works and foun

dations have proceeded from childless men; which have sought to express the images of their minds, where

those of their bodies have failed. So the care of posterity is most in them, that have no posterity. They that are

the first raisers of their houses, are most indulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance,

The difference in affection, of parents towards their several children, is many times unequal; and sometimes

unworthy; especially in the mothers; as Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son

shames the mother. A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest

respected, and the young est made wantons; but in the midst, some that are as it were forgotten, who many

times, never theless, prove the best. The illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is an

harmful error; makes them base; acquaints them with shifts; makes them sort with mean company; and makes

them surfeit more when they come to plenty. And therefore the proof is best, when men keep their authority

towards the children, but not their purse. Men have a foolish manner (both par ents and schoolmasters and

servants) in creating and breeding an emulation between brothers, dur ing childhood, which many times

sorteth to dis cord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The Italians make little difference between

chil dren, and nephews or near kinsfolks; but so they be of the lump, they care not though they pass not

through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much a like matter; insomuch that we see a nephew

sometimes resembleth an uncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parent; as the blood happens. Let parents

choose betimes, the vocations and courses they mean their children should take; for then they are most

flexible; and let them not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as thinking they will

take best to that, which they have most mind to. It is true, that if the affection or aptness of the children be

extra ordinary, then it is good not to cross it; but gener ally the precept is good, optimum elige, suave et

facile illud faciet consuetudo. Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the elder

HE THAT hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impedi ments to great

enterprises, either of virtue or mis chief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have

proceeded from the un married or childless men; which both in affection and means, have married and

endowed the public. Yet it were great reason that those that have chil dren, should have greatest care of

future times; unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are, who though

they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account future times imperti nences.

Nay, there are some other, that account wife and children, but as bills of charges. Nay more, there are some

foolish rich covetous men, that take a pride, in having no children, because they may be thought so much the

richer. For per haps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great rich man, and another except to it,

Yea, but he hath a great charge of children; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But the most ordinary

cause of a single life, is liberty, especially in certain selfpleasing and humorous minds, which are so sensible

of every restraint, as they will go near to think their girdles and garters, to be bonds and shackles. Unmarried

men are best friends, best masters, best servants; but not always best sub jects; for they are light to run

away; and almost all fugitives, are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen; for charity will

hardly water the ground, where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magistrates; for if they

be facile and corrupt, you shall have a ser vant, five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals

commonly in their hortatives, put men in mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of

marriage amongst the Turks, maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Cer tainly wife and children are a kind of

discipline of humanity; and single men, though they may be many times more charitable, because their means

are less exhaust, yet, on the other side, they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe inquisitors),

because their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are

commonly loving hus bands, as was said of Ulysses, vetulam suam praetu lit immortalitati. Chaste women

are often proud and froward, as presuming upon the merit of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of

chastity and obedience, in the wife, if she think her hus band wise; which she will never do, if she find him

jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses; com panions for middle age; and old men's nurses. So as a man

may have a quarrel to marry, when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise men, that made answer to

the question, when a man should marry, A young man not yet, an elder man not at all. It is often seen that

bad husbands, have very good wives; whether it be, that it raiseth the price of their husband's kindness, when

it comes; or that the wives take a pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands were of their

own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they will be sure to make good their own folly.

THERE be none of the affections, which have been noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy. They

both have vehement wishes; they frame themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions; and they come

easily into the eye, especially upon the present of the objects; which are the points that conduce to

fascination, if any such thing there be. We see likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye; and the

astrologers, call the evil influences of the stars, evil aspects; so that still there seemeth to be acknowledged, in

the act of envy, an ejaculation or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have been so curious, as to note, that the

times when the stroke or percussion of an envi ous eye doth most hurt, are when the party envied is beheld

in glory or triumph; for that sets an edge upon envy: and besides, at such times the spirits of the person

But leaving these curiosities (though not un worthy to be thought on, in fit place), we will handle, what

persons are apt to envy others; what persons are most subject to be envied themselves; and what is the

A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever en vieth virtue in others. For men's minds, will either feed upon

their own good, or upon others' evil; and who wanteth the one, will prey upon the other; and whoso is out of

hope, to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand, by depress ing another's fortune.

A man that is busy, and inquisitive, is com monly envious. For to know much of other men's matters, cannot

be because all that ado may con cern his own estate; therefore it must needs be, that he taketh a kind of

playpleasure, in looking upon the fortunes of others. Neither can he, that mindeth but his own business, find

much matter for envy. For envy is a gadding passion, and walk eth the streets, and doth not keep home: Non

Men of noble birth, are noted to be envious towards new men, when they rise. For the distance is altered, and

it is like a deceit of the eye, that when others come on, they think themselves, go back.

Deformed persons, and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious. For he that cannot pos sibly mend

his own case, will do what he can, to impair another's; except these defects light upon a very brave, and

heroical nature, which thinketh to make his natural wants part of his honor; in that it should be said, that an

eunuch, or a lame man, did such great matters; affecting the honor of a miracle; as it was in Narses the

The same is the case of men, that rise after ca lamities and misfortunes. For they are as men fallen out with

They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and vain glory, are ever envious. For they cannot

want work; it being impossible, but many, in some one of those things, should surpass them. Which was the

character of Adrian the Em peror; that mortally envied poets, and painters, and artificers, in works wherein

Lastly, near kinsfolks, and fellows in office, and those that have been bred together, are more apt to envy

their equals, when they are raised. For it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointeth at them, and

cometh oftener into their remembrance, and incurreth likewise more into the note of others; and envy ever

redoubleth from speech and fame. Cain's envy was the more vile and malignant, towards his brother Abel,

because when his sacrifice was better accepted, there was no body to look on. Thus much for those, that are

Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy: First, persons of eminent virtue, when they are

advanced, are less envied. For their for tune seemeth , but due unto them; and no man envieth the payment

of a debt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the comparing of a man's self; and

where there is no comparison, no envy; and therefore kings are not envied, but by kings. Nevertheless it is to

be noted, that unworthy persons are most envied, at their first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better;

whereas contrariwise, persons of worth and merit are most envied, when their fortune continueth long. For by

that time, though their virtue be the same, yet it hath not the same lustre; for fresh men grow up that darken it.

Persons of noble blood, are less envied in their rising. For it seemeth but right done to their birth. Besides,

there seemeth not much added to their fortune; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat hotter upon a bank, or

steep rising ground, than upon a flat. And for the same reason, those that are advanced by degrees, are less

Those that have joined with their honor great travels, cares, or perils, are less subject to envy. For men think

that they earn their honors hardly, and pity them sometimes; and pity ever healeth envy. Wherefore you shall

observe, that the more deep and sober sort of politic persons, in their greataess, are ever bemoaning

themselves, what a life they lead; chanting a quanta patimur! Not that they feel it so, but only to abate the

edge of envy. But this is to be understood, of business that is laid upon men, and not such, as they call unto

themselves. For nothing increaseth envy more, than an unnecessary and ambitious engrossing of business.

And nothing doth extinguish envy more, than for a great person to preserve all other infe rior officers, in

their full lights and preeminences of their places. For by that means, there be so many screens between him

Above all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the greatness of their fortunes, in an insolent and

proud manner; being never well, but while they are showing how great they are, either by outward pomp, or

by triumphing over all opposi tion or competition; whereas wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy, in

suffering themselves some times of purpose to be crossed, and overborne in things that do not much concern

them. Notwith standing, so much is true, that the carriage of greatness, in a plain and open manner (so it be

without arrogancy and vain glory) doth draw less envy, than if it be in a more crafty and cunning fashion. For

in that course, a man doth but dis avow fortune; and seemeth to be conscious of his own want in worth; and

Lastly, to conclude this part; as we said in the beginning, that the act of envy had somewhat in it of

witchcraft, so there is no other cure of envy, but the cure of witchcraft; and that is, to remove the lot (as they

call it) and to lay it upon another. For which purpose, the wiser sort of great persons, bring in ever upon the

stage somebody upon whom to derive the envy, that would come upon them selves; sometimes upon

ministers and servants; sometimes upon colleagues and associates; and the like; and for that turn there are

never wanting, some persons of violent and undertaking natures, who, so they may have power and business,

Now, to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in public envy, whereas in private, there is none. For

public envy, is as an ostracism, that eclipseth men, when they grow too great. And therefore it is a bridle also

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia, goeth in the modern language, by the name of discontentment; of

which we shall speak, in hand ling sedition. It is a disease, in a state, like to infec tion. For as infection

spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it; so when envy is gotten once into a state, it traduceth even

the best actions thereof, and turneth them into an ill odor. And therefore there is little won, by intermingling

of plausible actions. For that doth argue but a weak ness, and fear of envy, which hurteth so much the more,

as it is likewise usual in infections; which if you fear them, you call them upon you.

This public envy, seemeth to beat chiefly upon principal officers or ministers, rather than upon kings, and

estates themselves. But this is a sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when the cause of it in

him is small; or if the envy be general, in a manner upon all the ministers of an estate; then the envy (though

hidden) is truly upon the state itself. And so much of public envy or discontentment, and the difference

We will add this in general, touching the affec tion of envy; that of all other affections, it is the most

importune and continual. For of other affec tions, there is occasion given, but now and then; and therefore it

was well said, Invidia festos dies non agit: for it is ever working upon some or other. And it is also noted, that

love and envy do make a man pine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual. It is also

the vilest affec tion, and the most depraved; for which cause it is the proper attribute of the devil, who is

called, the envious man, that soweth tares amongst the wheat by night; as it always cometh to pass, that envy

worketh subtilly, and in the dark, and to the prejudice of good things, such as is the wheat.

THE stage is more beholding to love, than the life of man. For as to the stage, love is ever matter of

comedies, and now and then of tragedies; but in life it doth much mischief; sometimes like a siren, sometimes

like a fury. You may observe, that amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof the memory remaineth,

either ancient or recent) there is not one, that hath been transported to the mad degree of love: which shows

that great spirits, and great business, do keep out this weak passion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus

Antonius, the half partner of the empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius, the decemvir and lawgiver; whereof

the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and inordinate; but the latter was an austere and wise man: and

therefore it seems (though rarely) that love can find entrance, not only into an open heart, but also into a heart

well fortified, if watch be not well kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus, Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum

sumus; as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven, and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel

be fore a little idol, and make himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the eye;

which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing, to note the excess of this passion, and how it

braves the nature, and value of things, by this; that the speaking in a perpetual hyper bole, is comely in

nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase; for whereas it hath been well said, that the

archflatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self; certainly the lover is more.

For there was never proud man thought so absurdly well of him self, as the lover doth of the person loved;

and therefore it was well said, That it is impossible to love, and to be wise. Neither doth this weakness appear

to others only, and not to the party loved; but to the loved most of all, except the love be reci proque. For it

is a true rule, that love is ever re warded, either with the reciproque, or with an inward and secret contempt.

By how much the more, men ought to beware of this passion, which loseth not only other things, but itself!

As for the other losses, the poet's relation doth well figure them: that he that preferred Helena, quitted the

gifts of Juno and Pallas. For whosoever esteemeth too much of amorous affection, quitteth both riches and

wisdom. This passion hath his floods, in very times of weakness; which are great prosperity, and great

adversity; though this latter hath been less observed: both which times kindle love, and make it more fervent,

and therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do best, who if they cannot but admit love, yet make it

keep quarters; and sever it wholly from their serious affairs, and actions, of life; for if it check once with

business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men, that they can no ways be true to their own ends. I

know not how, but martial men are given to love: I think, it is but as they are given to wine; for perils

commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is in man's nature, a secret inclination and motion, towards love

of others, which if it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth naturally spread itself towards many, and

maketh men become humane and charitable; as it is seen sometime in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind;

MEN in great place are thrice servants: ser vants of the sovereign or state; servants of fame; and servants of

business. So as they have no freedom; neither in their persons, nor in their ac tions, nor in their times. It is a

strange desire, to seek power and to lose liberty: or to seek power over others, and to lose power over a man's

self. The rising unto place is laborious; and by pains, men come to greater pains; and it is sometimes base;

and by indignities, men come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at

least an eclipse, which is a melan choly thing. Cum non sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere. Nay, retire

men cannot when they would, neither will they, when it were reason; but are impatient of privateness, even in

age and sick ness, which require the shadow; like old towns men, that will be still sitting at their street

door, though thereby they offer age to scom. Certainly great persons had need to borrow other men's

opinions, to think themselves happy; for if they judge by their own feeling, they cannot find it; but if they

think with themselves, what other men think of them, and that other men would fain be, as they are, then they

are happy, as it were, by report; when perhaps they find the contrary within. For they are the first, that find

their own griefs, though they be the last, that find their own faults. Certainly men in great fortunes are

strangers to themselves, and while they are in the puzzle of business, they have no time to tend their health,

either of body or mind. Illi mors gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi. In place, there

is license to do good, and evil; whereof the latter is a curse: for in evil, the best condition is not to win; the

second, not to can. But power to do good, is the true and lawful end of aspiring. For good thoughts (though

God accept them) yet, towards men, are little better than good dreams, except they be put in act; and that

cannot be, without power and place, as the vantage, and commanding ground. Merit and good works, is the

end of man's motion; and conscience of the same is the accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be

partaker of God's theatre, he shall like wise be partaker of God's rest. Et conversus Deus, ut aspiceret opera

quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit quod omnia essent bona nimis; and then the sab bath. In the discharge of

thy place, set before thee the best examples; for imitation is a globe of pre cepts. And after a time, set before

thee thine own example; and examine thyself strictly, whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect not also the

examples, of those that have carried themselves ill, in the same place; not to set off thyself, by tax ing their

memory, but to direct thyself, what to avoid. Reform therefore, without bravery, or scan dal of former times

and persons; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to create good precedents, as to follow them. Reduce

things to the first institution, and observe wherein, and how, they have degen erate; but yet ask counsel of

both times; of the ancient time, what is best; and of the latter time, what is fittest. Seek to make thy course

regular, that men may know beforehand, what they may expect; but be not too positive and peremptory; and

express thyself well, when thou digressest from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place; but stir not questions

of jurisdiction; and rather as sume thy right, in silence and de facto, than voice it with claims, and

challenges. Preserve likewise the rights of inferior places; and think it more honor, to direct in chief, than to

be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps, and advices, touching the execution of thy place; and do not drive

away such, as bring thee information, as meddlers; but accept of them in good part. The vices of authority are

chiefly four: delays, corruption, roughness, and facility. For delays: give easy access; keep times appointed;

go through with that which is in hand, and interlace not business, but of necessity. For corruption: do not only

bind thine own hands, or thy servants' hands, from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also, from offering.

For integrity used doth the one; but integrity professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, doth the

other. And avoid not only the fault, but the sus picion. Whosoever is found variable, and changeth

manifestly without manifest cause, giveth sus picion of corruption. Therefore always, when thou changest

thine opinion or course, profess it plainly, and declare it, together with the reasons that move thee to change;

and do not think to steal it. A servant or a favorite, if he be inward, and no other apparent cause of esteem, is

commonly thought, but a byway to close corruption. For roughness: it is a needless cause of discontent:

severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs from authority, ought to be grave, and not

taunting. As for facility: it is worse than bribery. For bribes come but now and then; but if importunity, or

idle respects, lead a man, he shall never be without. As Solomon saith, To re spect persons is not good; for

such a man will transgress for a piece of bread. It is most true, that was anciently spoken, A place showeth

the man. And it showeth some to the better, and some to the worse. Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi

im perasset, saith Tacitus of Galba; but of Vespasian he saith, Solus imperantium, Vespasianus mutatus in

melius; though the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of manners, and affection. It is an assured sign of

a worthy and generous spirit, whom honor amends. For honor is, or should be, the place of virtue; and as in

nature, things move violently to their place, and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is violent, in

authority settled and calm. All rising to great place is by a winding star; and if there be factions, it is good to

side a man's self, whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the memory of thy

prede cessor, fairly and tenderly; for if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art gone. If

thou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them, when they look not for it, than exclude them , when

they have reason to look to be called. Be not too sensible, or too remembering, of thy place in conversation,

and private answers to suitors; but let it rather be said, When he sits in place, he is another man.

IT IS a trivial grammarschool text, but yet worthy a wise man's consideration. Question was asked of

Demosthenes, what was the chief part of an orator? he answered, action; what next? action; what next again?

action. He said it, that knew it best, and had, by nature, himself no ad vantage in that he commended. A

strange thing, that that part of an orator, which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of a player, should be

placed so high, above those other noble parts, of invention, elocution, and the rest; nay, almost alone, as if it

were all in all. But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally, more of the fool than of the wise;

and therefore those faculties, by which the foolish part of men's minds is taken, are most potent. Wonderful

like is the case of boldness in civil business: what first? boldness; what second and third? boldness. And yet

boldness is a child of ignorance and baseness, far inferior to other parts. But nevertheless it doth fascinate,

and bind hand and foot, those that are either shallow in judg ment, or weak in courage, which are the

greatest part; yea and prevaileth with wise men at weak times. Therefore we see it hath done wonders, in

popular states; but with senates, and princes less; and more ever upon the first entrance of bold per sons into

action, than soon after; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are mounte banks for the

natural body, so are there mounte banks for the politic body; men that undertake great cures, and perhaps

have been lucky, in two or three experiments, but want the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold out.

Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that

he would call an hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers, for the observers of his law. The

people assembled; Mahomet called the hill to come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he

was never a whit abashed, but said, If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill. So

these men, when they have promised great matters, and failed most shame fully, yet (if they have the

perfection of boldness) they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more ado. Certainly to men of

great judgment, bold persons are a sport to behold; nay, and to the vulgar also, boldness has somewhat of the

ridicu lous. For if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but great boldness is seldom without

some absurdity. Especially it is a sport to see, when a bold fellow is out of countenance; for that puts his face

into a most shrunken, and wooden pos ture; as needs it must; for in bashfulness, the spirits do a little go and

come; but with bold men, upon like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where it is no mate,

but yet the game cannot stir. But this last were fitter for a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to

be weighed; that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not danger, and inconveniences. Therefore it is ill in

counsel, good in execution; so that the right use of bold per sons is, that they never command in chief, but

be seconds, and under the direction of others. For in counsel, it is good to see dangers; and in execution, not

I TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal of men, which is that the Grecians call

philanthropia; and the word humanity (as it is used) is a little too light to express it. Good ness I call the

habit, and goodness of nature, the inclination. This of all virtues, and dignities of the mind, is the greatest;

being the character of the Deity: and without it, man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing; no better than a

kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological virtue, char ity, and admits no excess, but error. The

desire of power in excess, caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess, caused man to fall: but

in charity there is no excess; neither can angel, nor man, come in dan ger by it. The inclination to good ness,

is imprinted deeply in the nature of man; in somuch, that if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other

living creatures; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and give alms,

to dogs and birds; inso much, as Busbechius reporteth, a Christian boy, in Constantinople, had like to have

been stoned, for gagging in a waggishness a longbilled fowl. Errors indeed in this virtue of goodness, or

charity, may be committed. The Italians have an ungra cious proverb, Tanto buon che val niente: so good,

that he is good for nothing. And one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas Machiavel, had the confidence to put in

writing, almost in plain terms, That the Christian faith, had given up good men, in prey to those that are

tyrannical and un just. Which he spake, because indeed there was never law, or sect, or opinion, did so

much mag nify goodness, as the Christian religion doth. Therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger

both, it is good, to take knowledge of the errors of an habit so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be

not in bondage to their faces or fancies; for that is but facility, or softness; which taketh an honest mind

prisoner. Neither give thou AEsop's cock a gem, who would be better pleased, and hap pier, if he had had a

barleycorn. The example of God, teacheth the lesson truly: He sendeth his rain, and maketh his sun to shine,

upon the just and unjust; but he doth not rain wealth, nor shine honor and virtues, upon men equally.

Common benefits, are to be communicate with all; but pe culiar benefits, with choice. And beware how in

making the portraiture, thou breakest the pattern. For divinity, maketh the love of ourselves the pat tern; the

love of our neighbors, but the portraiture. Sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor, and fol low me: but, sell

not all thou hast, except thou come and follow me; that is, except thou have a vocation, wherein thou mayest

do as much good, with little means as with great; for otherwise, in feeding the streams, thou driest the

fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness, directed by right reason; but there is in some men, even in

nature, a disposition towards it; as on the other side, there is a natural malignity. For there be, that in their

nature do not affect the good of others. The lighter sort of malignity, turneth but to a crassness, or

frowardness, or aptness to oppose, or difficulties, or the like; but the deeper sort, to envy and mere mischief.

Such men, in other men's ca lamities, are, as it were, in season, and are ever on the loading part: not so good

as the dogs, that licked Lazarus' sores; but like flies, that are still buzzing upon any thing that is raw;

misanthropi, that make it their practice, to bring men to the bough, and yet never a tree for the purpose in

their gar dens, as Timon had. Such dispositions, are the very errors of human nature; and yet they are the

fittest timber, to make great politics of; like to knee tim ber, that is good for ships, that are ordained to be

tossed; but not for building houses, that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of goodness, are many. If a man

be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island, cut

off from other lands, but a conti nent, that joins to them. If he be compassionate towards the afflictions of

others, it shows that his heart is like the noble tree, that is wounded itself, when it gives the balm. If he easily

pardons, and remits offences, it shows that his mind is planted above injuries; so that he cannot be shot. If he

be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their trash. But above all, if he

have St. Paul's perfection, that he would wish to be anathema from Christ, for the salvation of his brethren, it

WE WILL speak of nobility, first as a portion of an estate, then as a condition of particu lar persons. A

monarchy, where there is no nobil ity at all, is ever a pure and absolute tyranny; as that of the Turks. For

nobility attempers sover eignty, and draws the eyes of the people, somewhat aside from the line royal. But

for democracies, they need it not; and they are commonly more quiet, and less subject to sedition, than where

there are stirps of nobles. For men's eyes are upon the business, and not upon the persons; or if upon the

persons, it is for the business' sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We see the Switzers last well,

notwithstanding their diversity of religion, and of cantons. For utility is their bond, and not respects. The

united provinces of the Low Coun tries, in their government, excel; for where there is an equality, the

consultations are more indif ferent, and the payments and tributes, more cheerful. A great and potent

nobility, addeth majesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power; and putteth life and spirit into the people, but

presseth their fortune. It is well, when nobles are not too great for sovereignty nor for justice; and yet

maintained in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be broken upon them, before it come on too fast

upon the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth poverty, and inconvenience in a state; for it is a

surcharge of expense; and besides, it being of necessity, that many of the nobility fall, in time, to be weak in

As for nobility in particular persons; it is a rev erend thing, to see an ancient castle or building, not in decay;

or to see a fair timber tree, sound and perfect. How much more, to behold an ancient noble family, which has

stood against the waves and weathers of time! For new nobility is but the act of power, but ancient nobility is

the act of time. Those that are first raised to nobility, are com monly more virtuous, but less innocent, than

their descendants; for there is rarely any rising, but by a commixture of good and evil arts. But it is reason,

the memory of their virtues remain to their pos terity, and their faults die with themselves. Nobil ity of

birth commonly abateth industry; and he that is not industrious, envieth him that is. Besides, noble persons

cannot go much higher; and he that standeth at a stay, when others rise, can hardly avoid motions of envy. On

the other side, nobil ity extinguisheth the passive envy from others, towards them; because they are in

possession of honor. Certainly, kings that have able men of their nobility, shall find ease in employing them,

and a better slide into their business; for people naturally bend to them, as born in some sort to command.

SHEPHERDS of people, had need know the calendars of tempests in state; which are com monly greatest,

when things grow to equality; as natural tempests are greatest about the Equinoc tia. And as there are certain

hollow blasts of wind, and secret swellings of seas before a tempest, so are there in states:

Ille etiam caecos instare tumultus Saepe monet, fraudesque et operta tunescere bella.

Libels and licentious discourses against the state, when they are frequent and open; and in like sort, false

news often running up and down, to the dis advantage of the state, and hastily embraced; are amongst the

signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the pedigree of Fame, saith, she was sister to the Giants:

Illam Terra parens, irra irritata deorum, Extremam (ut perhibent) Coeo Enceladoque sororem Progenuit.

As if fames were the relics of seditions past; but they are no less, indeed, the preludes of seditions to come.

Howsoever he noteth it right, that seditious tumults, and seditious fames, differ no more but as brother and

sister, masculine and feminine; es pecially if it come to that, that the best actions of a state, and the most

plausible, and which ought to give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense, and traduced: for that shows

the envy great, as Tacitus saith; conflata magna invidia, seu bene seu male gesta premunt. Neither doth it

follow, that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that the suppressing of them with too much severity,

should be a remedy of troubles. For the despising of them, many times checks them best; and the going about

to stop them, doth but make a wonder longlived. Also that kind of obedience, which Tacitus speaketh of, is

to be held suspected: Erant in officio, sed tamen qui mallent mandata impe rantium interpretari quam

exequi; disputing, ex cusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is a kind of shaking off the yoke, and

assay of dis obedience; especially if in those disputings, they which are for the direction, speak fearfully and

Also, as Machiavel noteth well, when princes, that ought to be common parents, make them selves as a

party, and lean to a side, it is as a boat, that is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side; as was well

seen, in the time of Henry the Third of France; for first, himself entered league for the extirpation of the

Protestants; and pres ently after, the same league was turned upon him self. For when the authority of

princes, is made but an accessory to a cause, and that there be other bands, that tie faster than the band of

Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions are carried openly and audaciously, it is a sign the reverence

of government is lost. For the motions of the greatest persons in a government, ought to be as the motions of

the planets under primum mobile; according to the old opinion: which is, that every of them, is carried swiftly

by the highest motion, and softly in their own motion. And therefore, when great ones in their own particular

motion, move violently, and, as Tacitus expresseth it well, liberius quam ut imperan tium meminissent; it is

a sign the orbs are out of frame. For reverence is that, wherewith princes are girt from God; who threateneth

So when any of the four pillars of government, are mainly shaken, or weakened (which are relig ion, justice,

counsel, and treasure), men had need to pray for fair weather. But let us pass from this part of predictions

(concerning which, neverthe less, more light may be taken from that which followeth); and let us speak first,

of the materials of seditions; then of the motives of them; and thirdly of the remedies.

Concerning the materials of seditions. It is a thing well to be considered; for the surest way to prevent

seditions (if the times do bear it) is to take away the matter of them. For if there be fuel pre pared, it is hard

to tell, whence the spark shall come, that shall set it on fire. The matter of sedi tions is of two kinds: much

poverty, and much dis contentment. It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so many votes for troubles.

Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus, Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.

This same multis utile bellum, is an assured and infallible sign, of a state disposed to seditions and troubles.

And if this poverty and broken estate in the better sort, be joined with a want and necessity in the mean

people, the danger is imminent and great. For the rebellions of the belly are the worst. As for

discontentments, they are, in the politic body, like to humors in the natural, which are apt to gather a

preternatural heat, and to inflame. And let no prince measure the danger of them by this, whether they be just

or unjust: for that were to imagine people, to be too reasonable; who do often spurn at their own good: nor yet

by this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise, be in fact great or small: for they are the most dangerous

discontentments, where the fear is greater than the feeling. Dolendi modus, timendi non item. Besides, in

great oppressions, the same things that provoke the patience, do withal mate the courage; but in fears it is not

so. Neither let any prince, or state, be secure concerning discontentments, be cause they have been often, or

have been long, and yet no peril hath ensued: for as it is true, that every vapor or fume doth not turn into a

storm; so it is nevertheless true, that storms, though they blow over divers times, yet may fall at last; and, as

the Spanish proverb noteth well, The cord breaketh at the last by the weakest pull.

The causes and motives of seditions are, innova tion in religion; taxes; alteration of laws and cus toms;

breaking of privileges; general oppression; advancement of unworthy persons; strangers; dearths; disbanded

soldiers; factions grown des perate; and what soever, in offending people, joineth and knitteth them in a

For the remedies; there may be some general preservatives, whereof we will speak: as for the just cure, it

must answer to the particular disease; and so be left to counsel, rather than rule.

The first remedy or prevention is to remove, by all means possible, that material cause of sedition whereof we

spake; which is, want and poverty in the estate. To which purpose serveth the opening, and wellbalancing of

trade; the cherishing of manufactures; the banishing of idleness; the re pressing of waste, and excess, by

sumptuary laws; the improvement and husbanding of the soil; the regulating of prices of things vendible; the

moder ating of taxes and tributes; and the like. Generally, it is to be foreseen that the population of a king

dom (especially if it be not mown down by wars) do not exceed the stock of the kingdom, which should

maintain them. Neither is the population to be reckoned only by number; for a smaller num ber, that spend

more and earn less, do wear out an estate sooner, than a greater number that live lower, and gather more.

Therefore the multiply ing of nobility, and other degrees of quality, in an over proportion to the common

people, doth speed ily bring a state to necessity; and so doth likewise an overgrown clergy; for they bring

nothing to the stock; and in like manner, when more are bred scholars, than preferments can take off .

It is likewise to be remembered, that forasmuch as the increase of any estate must be upon the foreigner (for

whatsoever is somewhere gotten, is somewhere lost), there be but three things, which one nation selleth unto

another; the commodity as nature yieldeth it; the manufacture; and the vec ture, or carriage. So that if these

three wheels go, wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh many times to pass, that materiam

superabit opus; that the work and carriage is more worth than the material, and enricheth a state more; as is

notably seen in the LowCountrymen, who have the best mines above ground, in the world.

Above all things, good policy is to be used, that the treasure and moneys, in a state, be not gath ered into

few hands. For otherwise a state may have a great stock, and yet starve. And money is like muck, not good

except it be spread. This is done, chiefly by suppressing, or at least keeping a strait hand, upon the devouring

For removing discontentments, or at least the danger of them; there is in every state (as we know) two

portions of subjects; the noblesse and the commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the danger is not

great; for common people are of slow motion, if they be not excited by the greater sort; and the greater sort

are of small strength, except the multitude be apt, and ready to move of themselves. Then is the danger, when

the greater sort, do but wait for the troubling of the waters amongst the meaner, that then they may declare

themselves. The poets feign, that the rest of the gods would have bound Jupiter; which he hearing of, by the

counsel of Pallas, sent for Briareus, with his hundred hands, to come in to his aid. An em blem, no doubt, to

show how safe it is for mon archs, to make sure of the good will of common people. To give moderate

liberty for griefs and dis contentments to evaporate (so it be without too great insolency or bravery), is a

safe way. For he that turneth the humors back, and maketh the wound bleed inwards, endangereth malign

The part of Epimetheus mought well become Prometheus, in the case of discontentments: for there is not a

better provision against them. Epime theus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut the lid, and kept

hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly, the politic and artificial nourish ing, and entertaining of hopes,

and carrying men from hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against the poison of discontentments.

And it is a certain sign of a wise government and proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it

cannot by satisfaction; and when it can handle things, in such manner, as no evil shall appear so peremptory,

but that it hath some outlet of hope; which is the less hard to do, because both particu lar persons and

factions, are apt enough to flatter themselves, or at least to brave that, which they believe not.

Also the foresight and prevention, that there be no likely or fit head, whereunto discontented per sons may

resort, and under whom they may join, is a known, but an excellent point of caution. I understand a fit head,

to be one that hath great ness and reputation; that hath confidence with the discontented party, and upon

whom they turn their eyes; and that is thought discontented, in his own particular: which kind of persons, are

either to be won, and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and true manner; or to be fronted with some

other, of the same party, that may oppose them, and so divide the reputation. Generally, the divid ing and

breaking, of all factions and combinations that are adverse to the state, and setting them at distance, or at least

distrust, amongst themselves, is not one of the worst remedies. For it is a desper ate case, if those that hold

with the proceeding of the state, be full of discord and faction, and those that are against it, be entire and

I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches, which have fallen from princes, have given fire to

seditions. Caesar did himself infinite hurt in that speech, Sylla nescivit literas, non po tuit dictare; for it did

utterly cut off that hope, which men had entertained, that he would at one time or other give over his

dictatorship. Galba un did himself by that speech, legi a se militem, non emi; for it put the soldiers out of

hope of the dona tive. Probus likewise, by that speech, Si vixero, non opus erit amplius Romano imperio

militibus; a speech of great despair for the soldiers. And many the like. Surely princes had need, in tender

matters and ticklish times, to beware what they say; especially in these short speeches, which fly abroad like

darts, and are thought to be shot out of their secret intentions. For as for large discourses, they are flat things,

Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great person, one or rather more, of military valor,

near unto them, for the repressing of seditions in their beginnings. For without that, there useth to be more

trepidation in court upon the first breaking out of troubles, than were fit. And the state runneth the danger of

that which Tacitus saith; Atque is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum facinus auderent pauci, plures vellent,

omnes paterentur. But let such military persons be assured, and well reputed of, rather than factious and

popular; holding also good correspondence with the other great men in the state; or else the remedy, is worse

I HAD rather believe all the fables in the Leg end, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal

frame is without a mind. And therefore, God never wrought miracle, to convince atheism, because his

ordinary works con vince it. It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in

philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion. For while the mind of man looketh upon second causes

scat tered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but when it beholdeth the chain of them,

confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity. Nay, even that school which is

most accused of atheism doth most dem onstrate religion; that is, the school of Leucippus and Democritus

and Epicurus. For it is a thousand times more credible, that four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth

essence, duly and eter nally placed, need no God, than that an army of infinite small portions, or seeds

unplaced, should have produced this order and beauty, without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith, The fool

hath said in his heart, there is no God; it is not said, The fool hath thought in his heart; so as he rather saith it,

by rote to himself, as that he would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be persuaded of it. For

none deny, there is a God, but those, for whom it maketh that there were no God. It ap peareth in nothing

more, that atheism is rather in the lip, than in the heart of man, than by this; that atheists will ever be talking

of that their opinion, as if they fainted in it, within themselves, and would be glad to be strengthened, by the

consent of others. Nay more, you shall have atheists strive to get disciples, as it fareth with other sects. And,

which is most of all, you shall have of them, that will suffer for atheism, and not recant; whereas if they did

truly think, that there were no such thing as God, why should they trouble themselves? Epi curus is charged,

that he did but dissemble for his credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed natures, but such as

enjoyed themselves, without having respect to the government of the world. Wherein they say he did

temporize; though in secret, he thought there was no God. But certainly he is traduced; for his words are

noble and divine: Non deos vulgi negare profanum; sed vulgi opini ones diis applicare profanum. Plato

could have said no more. And although he had the confidence, to deny the administration, he had not the

power, to deny the nature. The Indians of the West, have names for their particular gods, though they have no

name for God: as if the heathens should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc., but not the word

Deus; which shows that even those bar barous people have the notion, though they have not the latitude and

extent of it. So that against atheists, the very savages take part, with the very subtlest philosophers. The

contemplative atheist is rare: a Diagoras, a Bion, a Lucian perhaps, and some others; and yet they seem to be

more than they are; for that all that impugn a received re ligion, or superstition, are by the adverse part

branded with the name of atheists. But the great atheists, indeed are hypocrites; which are ever handling holy

things, but without feeling; so as they must needs be cauterized in the end. The causes of atheism are:

divisions in religion, if they be many; for any one main division, addeth zeal to both sides; but many

divisions introduce atheism. Another is, scandal of priests; when it is come to that which St. Bernard saith,

non est jam dicere, ut populus sic sacerdos; quia nec sic populus ut sacerdos. A third is, custom of profane

scoffing in holy matters; which doth, by little and little, de face the reverence of religion. And lastly, learned

times, specially with peace and prosperity; for troubles and adversities do more bow men's minds to religion.

They that deny a God, destroy man's nobility; for certainly man is of kin to the beasts, by his body; and, if he

be not of kin to God, by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity, and

the raising of human nature; for take an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and courage he will

put on, when he finds himself maintained by a man; who to him is instead of a God, or melior natura; which

courage is manifestly such, as that creature, with out that confidence of a better nature than his own, could

never attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself, upon divine protection and favor, gathered a force

and faith, which human nature in itself could not obtain. Therefore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in

this, that it depriveth human nature of the means to exalt it self, above human frailty. As it is in particular

persons, so it is in nations. Never was there such a state for magnanimity as Rome. Of this state hear what

Cicero saith: Quam volumus licet, patres con scripti, nos amemus, tamen nec numero Hispanos, nec robore

Gallos, nec calliditate Poenos, nec arti bus Graecos, nec denique hoc ipso hujus gentis et terrae domestico

nativoque sensu Italos ipsos et Latinos; sed pietate, ac religione, atque hac una sapientia, quod deorum

immortalium numine omnia regi gubernarique perspeximus, omnes gentes nationesque superavimus.

IT WERE better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion, as is unworthy of him. For the one is

unbelief, the other is contumely; and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. Plutarch saith well to

that purpose: Surely (saith he) I had rather a great deal, men should say, there was no such man at all, as

Plutarch, than that they should say, that there was one Plu tarch, that would eat his children as soon as they

were born; as the poets speak of Saturn. And as the contumely is greater towards God, so the danger is

greater towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation; all

which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, though religion were not; but super stition dismounts all

these, and erecteth an abso lute monarchy, in the minds of men. Therefore theism did never perturb states;

for it makes men wary of themselves, as looking no further: and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the

time of Augustus Caesar) were civil times. But supersti tion hath been the confusion of many states, and

bringeth in a new primum mobile, that ravisheth all the spheres of government.The master of super stition,

is the people; and in all superstition, wise men follow fools; and arguments are fitted to prac tice, in a

reversed order. It was gravely said by some of the prelates in the Council of Trent, where the doctrine of the

Schoolmen bare great sway, that the Schoolmen were like astronomers, which did feign eccentrics and

epicycles, and such en gines of orbs, to save the phenomena; though they knew there were no such things;

and in like man ner, that the Schoolmen had framed a number of subtle and intricate axioms, and theorems,

to save the practice of the church. The causes of supersti tion are: pleasing and sensual rites and ceremonies;

excess of outward and pharisaical holiness; over great reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the

church; the stratagems of prelates, for their own ambition and lucre; the favoring too much of good

intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and novelties; the taking an aim at divine matters, by human,

which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations: and, lastly, bar barous times, especially joined with

calamities and disasters. Superstition, without a veil, is a de formed thing; for, as it addeth deformity to an

ape, to be so like a man, so the similitude of super stition to religion, makes it the more deformed. And as

wholesome meat corrupteth to little worms, so good forms and orders corrupt, into a number of petty

observances. There is a superstition in avoid ing superstition, when men think to do best, if they go furthest

from the superstition, formerly re ceived; therefore care would be had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the

good be not taken away with the bad; which commonly is done, when the people is the reformer.

TRAVEL, in the younger sort, is a part of edu cation, in the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth

into a country, before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel. That young

men travel under some tutor, or grave servant, I allow well; so that he be such a one that hath the language,

and hath been in the country before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen,

in the country where they go; what acquaintances they are to seek; what exercises, or discipline, the place

yieldeth. For else, young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing, that in sea voyages,

where there is nothing to be seen, but sky and sea, men should make diaries; but in landtravel, wherein so

much is to be ob served, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter to be registered, than

observation. Let diaries, therefore, be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are: the courts of

princes, especially when they give audience to ambassa dors; the courts of justice, while they sit and hear

causes; and so of consistories ecclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are

therein extant; the walls and fortifica tions of cities, and towns, and so the heavens and harbors; antiquities

and ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations, and lectures, where any are; ship ping and navies; houses and

gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; exchanges; burses;

warehouses; exer cises of horsemanship, fencing, training of sol diers, and the like; comedies, such

whereunto the better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to

conclude, whatsoever is memorable, in the places where they go. After all which, the tutors, or servants,

ought to make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital execu tions, and

such shows, men need not to be put in mind of them; yet are they not to be neglected. If you will have a

young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you must do. First, as

was said, he must have some entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must have such a servant,

or tutor, as knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let him carry with him also, some card or book,

describing the country where he travelleth; which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary.

Let him not stay long, in one city or town; more or less as the place deserveth, but not long; nay, when he

stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodging from one end and part of the town, to an other; which

is a great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himself, from the company of his countrymen, and diet

in such places, where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him, upon his removes

from one place to another, procure recommendation to some person of quality, residing in the place whither

he removeth; that he may use his favor, in those things he desireth to see or know. Thus he may abridge his

travel, with much profit. As for the acquaintance, which is to be sought in travel; that which is most of all

profitable, is acquaintance with the secretaries and employed men of ambas sadors: for so in travelling in

one country, he shall suck the experience of many. Let him also see, and visit, eminent persons in all kinds,

which are of great name abroad; that he may be able to tell, how the life agreeth with the fame. For quarrels,

they are with care and discretion to be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and words.

And let a man beware, how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrelsome persons; for they will engage

him into their own quarrels. When a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries, where he hath

travelled, alto gether behind him; but maintain a correspond ence by letters, with those of his acquaintance,

which are of most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his discourse, than his apparel or gesture; and in

his discourse, let him be rather advised in his answers, than forward to tell stories; and let it appear that he

doth not change his country man ners, for those of foreign parts; but only prick in some flowers, of that he

IT IS a miserable state of mind, to have few things to desire, and many things to fear; and yet that commonly

is the case of kings; who, being at the highest, want matter of desire, which makes their minds more

languishing; and have many rep resentations of perils and shadows, which makes their minds the less clear.

And this is one reason also, of that effect which the Scripture speaketh of, That the king's heart is inscrutable.

For multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant de sire, that should marshal and put in order all

the rest, maketh any man's heart, hard to find or sound. Hence it comes likewise, that princes many times

make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon toys; sometimes upon a building; sometimes upon erecting

of an order; sometimes upon the ad vancing of a person; sometimes upon obtaining excellency in some art,

or feat of the hand; as Nero for playing on the harp, Domitian for certainty of the hand with the arrow,

Commodus for play ing at fence, Caracalla for driving chariots, and the like. This seemeth incredible, unto

those that know not the principle, that the mind of man, is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small

things, than by standing at a stay, in great. We see also that kings that have been fortunate conquer ors, in

their first years, it being not possible for them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some check,

or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be superstitious, and melan choly; as did Alexander the

Great; Diocletian; and in our memory, Charles the Fifth; and others: for he that is used to go forward, and

To speak now of the true temper of empire, it is a thing rare and hard to keep; for both temper, and distemper,

consist of contraries. But it is one thing, to mingle contraries, another to interchange them. The answer of

Apollonius to Vespasian, is full of excellent instruction. Vespasian asked him, What was Nero's overthrow?

He answered, Nero could touch and tune the harp well; but in government, sometimes he used to wind the

pins too high, some times to let them down too low. And certain it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so

much, as the unequal and untimely interchange of power pressed too far, and relaxed too much.

This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times, in princes' affairs, is rather fine deliveries, and shiftings

of dangers and mischiefs, when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them aloof. But this is

but to try masteries with fortune. And let men beware, how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be

prepared; for no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. The difficulties in princes' business

are many and great; but the greatest difficulty, is often in their own mind. For it is common with princes

(saith Tacitus) to will contradictories, Sunt pler umque regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrariae.

For it is the solecism of power, to think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.

Kings have to deal with their neighbors, their wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their nobles, their

secondnobles or gentlemen, their merchants, their commons, and their men of war; and from all these arise

First for their neighbors; there can no general rule be given (for occasions are so variable), save one, which

ever holdeth, which is, that princes do keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbors do ever grow so (by

increase of territory, by embrac ing of trade, by approaches, or the like), as they become more able to annoy

them, than they were. And this is generally the work of standing coun sels, to foresee and to hinder it.

During that trium virate of kings, King Henry the Eighth of England, Francis the First King of France, and

Charles the Fifth Emperor, there was such a watch kept, that none of the three could win a palm of ground,

but the other two would straightways balance it, either by confederation, or, if need were, by a war; and

would not in any wise take up peace at inter est. And the like was done by that league (which Guicciardini

saith was the security of Italy) made between Ferdinando King of Naples, Lorenzius Medici, and Ludovicus

Sforza, potentates, the one of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the opin ion of some of the

Schoolmen, to be received, that a war cannot justly be made, but upon a precedent injury or provocation. For

there is no question, but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is a lawful cause of

For their wives; there are cruel examples of them. Livia is infamed, for the poisoning of her husband;

Roxalana, Solyman's wife, was the destruction of that renowned prince, Sultan Mus tapha, and otherwise

troubled his house and suc cession; Edward the Second of England, his queen, had the principal hand in the

deposing and mur der of her husband. This kind of danger, is then to be feared chiefly, when the wives have

plots, for the raising of their own children; or else that they be advoutresses.

For their children; the tragedies likewise of dangers from them, have been many. And gen erally, the

entering of fathers into suspicion of their children, hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of Mustapha

(that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession of the Turks, from Solyman until this

day, is sus pected to be untrue, and of strange blood; for that Selymus the Second, was thought to be

supposi tious. The destruction of Crispus, a young prince of rare towardness, by Constantinus the Great, his

father, was in like manner fatal to his house; for both Constantinus and Constance, his sons, died violent

deaths; and Constantius, his other son, did little better; who died indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus

had taken arms against him. The de struction of Demetrius, son to Philip the Second of Macedon, turned

upon the father, who died of repentance. And many like examples there are; but few or none, where the

fathers had good by such distrust; except it were, where the sons were up in open arms against them; as was

Selymus the First against Bajazet; and the three sons of Henry the Second, King of England.

For their prelates; when they are proud and great, there is also danger from them; as it was in the times of

Anselmus, and Thomas Becket, Arch bishops of Canterbury; who, with their croziers, did almost try it with

the king's sword; and yet they had to deal with stout and haughty kings, William Rufus, Henry the First, and

Henry the Second. The danger is not from that state, but where it hath a dependence of foreign authority; or

where the churchmen come in and are elected, not by the collation of the king, or particular patrons, but by

For their nobles; to keep them at a distance, it is not amiss; but to depress them, may make a king more

absolute, but less safe; and less able to per form, any thing that he desires. I have noted it, in my History of

King Henry the Seventh of Eng land, who depressed bis nobility; whereupon it came to pass, that his times

were full of difficulties and troubles; for the nobility, though they con tinued loyal unto him, yet did they

not cooperate with him in his business. So that in effect, he was fain to do all things himself.

For their secondnobles; there is not much dan ger from them, being a body dispersed. They may

sometimes discourse high, but that doth little hurt; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher no bility,

that they grow not too potent; and, lastly, being the most immediate in authority, with the common people,

For their merchants; they are vena porta; and if they flourish not, a kingdom may have good limbs, but will

have empty veins, and nourish little. Taxes and imposts upon them, do seldom good to the king's revenue; for

that that he wins in the hundred, he leeseth in the shire; the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk

For their commons; there is little danger from them, except it be, where they have great and po tent heads;

or where you meddle with the point of religion, or their customs, or means of life.

For their men of war; it is a dangerous state, where they live and remain in a body, and are used to donatives;

whereof we see examples in the janizaries, and pretorian bands of Rome; but train ings of men, and arming

them in several places, and under several commanders, and without donatives, are things of defence, and no

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times; and which have much venera tion, but

no rest. All precepts concerning kings, are in effect comprehended in those two remem brances: memento

quod es homo; and memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei; the one bridleth their power, and the other their will.

THE greatest trust, between man and man, is the trust of giving counsel. For in other con fidences, men

commit the parts of life; their lands, their goods, their children, their credit, some par ticular affair; but to

such as they make their coun sellors, they commit the whole: by how much the more, they are obliged to all

faith and integrity. The wisest princes need not think it any diminu tion to their greatness, or derogation to

their suf ficiency, to rely upon counsel. God himself is not without, but hath made it one of the great names

of his blessed Son: The Counsellor. Solomon hath pronounced, that in counsel is stability. Things will have

their first, or second agitation: if they be not tossed upon the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon

the waves of fortune; and be full of inconstancy, doing and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken man.

Solomon's son found the force of counsel, as his father saw the necessity of it. For the beloved kingdom of

God, was first rent, and broken, by ill counsel; upon which coun sel, there are set for our instruction, the two

marks whereby bad counsel is for ever best discerned; that it was young counsel, for the person; and violent

The ancient times, do set forth in figure, both the incorporation, and inseparable conjunction, of counsel with

kings, and the wise and politic use of counsel by kings: the one, in that they say Jupi ter did marry Metis,

which signifieth counsel; whereby they intend that Sovereignty, is married to Counsel: the other in that which

followeth, which was thus: They say, after Jupiter was mar ried to Metis, she conceived by him, and was

with child, but Jupiter suffered her not to stay, till she brought forth, but eat her up; whereby he became

himself with child, and was delivered of Pallas armed, out of his head. Which monstrous fable containeth a

secret of empire; how kings are to make use of their counsel of state. That first, they ought to refer matters

unto them, which is the first begetting, or impregnation; but when they are elaborate, moulded, and shaped in

the womb of their counsel, and grow ripe, and ready to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their coun

sel to go through with the resolution and direc tion, as if it depended on them; but take the matter back into

their own hands, and make it appear to the world, that the decrees and final directions (which, because they

come forth, with prudence and power, are resembled to Pallas armed) pro ceeded from themselves; and not

only from their authority, but (the more to add reputation to them selves) from their head and device.

Let us now speak of the inconveniences of coun sel, and of the remedies. The inconveniences that have been

noted, in calling and using counsel, are three. First, the revealing of affairs, whereby they become less secret.

Secondly, the weakening of the authority of princes, as if they were less of them selves. Thirdly, the danger

of being unfaithfully counselled, and more for the good of them that counsel, than of him that is counselled.

For which inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy, and practice of France, in some kings' times, hath introduced

As to secrecy; princes are not bound to commu nicate all matters, with all counsellors; but may extract and

select. Neither is it necessary, that he that consulteth what he should do, should declare what he will do. But

let princes beware, that the unsecreting of their affairs, comes not from them selves. And as for cabinet

counsels, it may be their motto, plenus rimarum sum: one futile person, that maketh it his glory to tell, will do

more hurt than many, that know it their duty to conceal. It is true there be some affairs, which require extreme

secrecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two persons, besides the king: neither are those coun sels

unprosperous; for, besides the secrecy, they conunonly go on constantly, in one spirit of direc tion, without

distraction. But then it must be a prudent king, such as is able to grind with a hand mill; and those inward

counsellors had need also be wise men, and especially true and trusty to the king's ends; as it was with King

Henry the Seventh of England, who, in his great business, imparted himself to none, except it were to Morton

For weakening of authority; the fable showeth the remedy. Nay, the majesty of kings, is rather exalted than

diminished, when they are in the chair of counsel; neither was there ever prince, be reaved of his

dependences, by his counsel, except where there hath been, either an overgreatness in one counsellor, or an

For the last inconvenience, that men will coun sel, with an eye to themselves; certainly, non inveniet fidem

super terram is meant, of the na ture of times, and not of all particular persons. There be, that are in nature

faithful, and sincere, and plain, and direct; not crafty and involved; let princes, above all, draw to themselves

such na tures. Besides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but that one counsellor, keepeth sentinel

over another; so that if any do counsel out of fac tion or private ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear.

But the best remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as well as their counsellors know them:

And on the other side, counsellors should not be too speculative into their sovereign's person. The true

composition of a counsellor, is rather to be skilful in their master's business, than in his na ture; for then he

is like to advise him, and not feed his humor. It is of singular use to princes, if they take the opinions of their

counsel, both separately and together. For private opinion is more free; but opinion before others, is more

reverent. In private, men are more bold in their own humors; and in consort, men are more obnoxious to

others' humors; therefore it is good to take both; and of the inferior sort, rather in private, to preserve free

dom; of the greater, rather in consort, to preserve respect. It is in vain for princes, to take counsel concerning

matters, if they take no counsel like wise concerning persons; for all matters are as dead images; and the life

of the execution of af fairs, resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither is it enough, to consult concerning

persons secun dum genera, as in an idea, or mathematical de scription, what the kind and character of the

person should be; for the greatest errors are com mitted, and the most judgment is shown, in the choice of

individuals. It was truly said, optimi con siliarii mortui: books will speak plain, when coun sellors

blanch.Therefore it is good to be conversant in them, specially the books of such as themselves have been

The counsels at this day, in most places, are but familiar meetings, where matters are rather talked on, than

debated. And they run too swift, to the order, or act, of counsel. It were better that in causes of weight, the

matter were propounded one day, and not spoken to till the next day; in nocte consilium. So was it done in

the Commission of Union, between England and Scotland; which was a grave and orderly assembly. I

commend set days for petitions; for both it gives the sudtors more certainty for their attendance, and it frees

the meetings for matters of estate, that they may hoc agere. In choice of committees; for ripening busi ness

for the counsel, it is better to choose indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency, by putting in those,

that are strong on both sides. I commend also standing commissions; as for trade, for treas ure, for war, for

suits, for some provinces; for where there be divers particular counsels, and but one counsel of estate (as it is

in Spain), they are, in effect, no more than standing commissions: save that they have greater authority. Let

such as are to inform counsels, out of their particular profes sions (as lawyers, seamen, mintmen, and the

like) be first heard before committees; and then, as oc casion serves, before the counsel. And let them not

come in multitudes, or in a tribunitious manner; for that is to clamor counsels, not to inform them. A long

table and a square table, or seats about the walls, seem things of form, but are things of sub stance; for at a

long table a few at the upper end, in effect, sway all the business; but in the other form, there is more use of

the counsellors' opinions, that sit lower. A king, when he presides in counsel, let him beware how he opens

his own inclination too much, in that which he propoundeth; for else counsellors will but take the wind of

FORTUNE is like the market; where many times if you can stay a little, the price will fall. Again, it is

sometimes like Sibylla's offer; which at first, offereth the commodity at full, then con sumeth part and part,

and still holdeth up the price. For occasion (as it is in the common verse) turneth a bald noddle, after she hath

presented her locks in front, and no hold taken; or at least turneth the handle of the bottle, first to be received,

and after the belly, which is hard to clasp. There is surely no greater wisdom, than well to time the

beginnings, and onsets, of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once seem light; and more dan gers

have deceived men, than forced them. Nay, it were better, to meet some dangers half way, though they come

nothing near, than to keep too long a watch upon their approaches; for if a man watch too long, it is odds he

will fall asleep. On the other side, to be deceived with too long shadows (as some have been, when the moon

was low, and shone on their enemies' back), and so to shoot off before the time; or to teach dangers to come

on, by over early buckling towards them; is another ex treme. The ripeness, or unripeness, of the occasion

(as we said) must ever be well weighed; and gener ally it is good, to commit the beginnings of all great

actions to Argus, with his hundred eyes, and the ends to Briareus, with his hundred hands; first to watch, and

then to speed. For the helmet of Pluto, which maketh the politic man go invisible, is secrecy in the counsel,

and celerity in the execu tion. For when things are once come to the execu tion, there is no secrecy,

comparable to celerity; like the motion of a bullet in the air, which flieth so swift, as it outruns the eye.

WE TAKE cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And certainly there is a great dif ference, between a

cunning man, and a wise man; not only in point of honesty, but in point of ability. There be, that can pack the

cards, and yet cannot play well; so there are some that are good in can vasses and factions, that are

otherwise weak men. Again, it is one thing to understand persons, and another thing to understand matters;

for many are perfect in men's humors, that are not greatly capable of the real part of business; which is the

constitution of one that hath studied men, more than books. Such men are fitter for practice, than for counsel;

and they are good, but in their own alley: turn them to new men, and they have lost their aim; so as the old

rule, to know a fool from a wise man, Mitte ambos nudos ad ignotos, et vide bis, doth scarce hold for them.

And because these cunning men, are like haberdashers of small wares, it is not amiss to set forth their shop.

It is a point of cunning, to wait upon him with whom you speak, with your eye; as the Jesuits give it in

precept: for there be many wise men, that have secret hearts, and transparent countenances. Yet this would be

Another is, that when you have anything to obtain, of present despatch, you entertain and amuse the party,

with whom you deal, with some other discourse; that he be not too much awake to make objections. I knew a

counsellor and secre tary, that never came to Queen Elizabeth of Eng land, with bills to sign, but he would

always first put her into some discourse of estate, that she mought the less mind the bills.

The like surprise may be made by moving things, when the party is in haste, and cannot stay to consider

If a man would cross a business, that he doubts some other would handsomely and effectually move, let him

The breaking off, in the midst of that one was about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a greater appetite

And because it works better, when anything seemeth to be gotten from you by question, than if you offer it of

yourself, you may lay a bait for a question, by showing another visage, and counte nance, than you are

wont; to the end to give occa sion, for the party to ask, what the matter is of the change? As Nehemias did;

In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice, by some whose words are of less weight,

and to reserve the more weighty voice, to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the question upon

the other's speech: as Narcissus did, relating to Claudius the marriage of Messa lina and Silius.

In things that a man would not be seen in him self, it is a point of cunning, to borrow the name of the world;

I knew one that, when he wrote a letter, he would put that, which was most material, in the postscript, as if it

I knew another that, when he came to have speech, he would pass over that, that he intended most; and go

forth, and come back again, and speak of it as of a thing, that he had almost forgot.

Some procure themselves, to be surprised, at such times as it is like the party that they work upon, will

suddenly come upon them; and to be found with a letter in their hand, or doing some what which they are

not accustomed; to the end, they may be apposed of those things, which of themselves they are desirous to

It is a point of cunning, to let fall those words in a man's own name, which he would have another man learn,

and use, and thereupon take advan tage. I knew two, that were competitors for the secretary's place in Queen

Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter between themselves; and would confer, one with another, upon

the busi ness; and the one of them said, That to be a secre tary, in the declination of a monarchy, was a

ticklish thing, and that he did not affect it: the other straight caught up those words, and dis coursed with

divers of his friends, that he had no reason to desire to be secretary, in the declination of a monarchy. The

first man took hold of it, and found means it was told the Queen; who, hearing of a declination of a

There is a cunning, which we in England call, the turning of the cat in the pan; which is, when that which a

man says to another, he lays it as if another had said it to him. And to say truth, it is not easy, when such a

matter passed between two, to make it appear from which of them it first moved and began.

It is a way that some men have, to glance and dart at others, by justifying themselves by nega tives; as to

say, This I do not; as Tigellinus did towards Burrhus, Se non diversas spes, sed incolu mitatem imperatoris

Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, as there is nothing they would insinuate, but they can wrap

it into a tale; which serveth both to keep themselves more in guard, and to make others carry it with more

pleasure. It is a good point of cunning, for a man to shape the answer he would have, in his own words and

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak somewhat they desire to say; and how far about they

will fetch; and how many other mat ters they will beat over, to come near it. It is a thing of great patience,

A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like to him that

, having changed his name, and walking in Paul's, another suddenly came behind him, and called him by his

But these small wares, and petty points, of cun ning, are infinite; and it were a good deed to make a list of

them; for that nothing doth more hurt in a state, than that cunning men pass for wise.

But certainly some there are that know the re sorts and falls of business, that cannot sink into the main of it;

like a house that hath convenient stairs and entries, but never a fair room. Therefore, you shall see them find

out pretty looses in the con clusion, but are no ways able to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly

they take advantage of their inability, and would be thought wits of direction. Some build rather upon the

abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own proceed

ings. But Solomon saith, Prudens advertit ad gres sus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos.

AN ANT is a wise creature for itself, but it is a shrewd thing, in an orchard or garden. And certainly, men that

are great lovers of themselves, waste the public. Divide with reason; between self love and society; and be

so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others; specially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a

man's actions, him self. It is right earth. For that only stands fast upon his own centre; whereas all things,

that have af finity with the heavens, move upon the centre of another, which they benefit. The referring of

all to a man's self, is more tolerable in a sovereign prince; because themselves are not only them selves, but

their good and evil is at the peril of the public fortune. But it is a desperate evil, in a ser vant to a prince, or a

citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own ends;

which must needs be often eccentric to the ends of his master, or state. Therefore, let princes, or states,

choose such ser vants, as have not this mark; except they mean their service should be made but the

accessory. That which maketh the effect more pernicious, is that all proportion is lost. It were disproportion

enough, for the servant's good to be preferred be fore the master's; but yet it is a greater extreme, when a

little good of the servant, shall carry things against a great good of the master's. And yet that is the case of

bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt servants; which set a bias upon

their bowl, of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their master's great and important affairs.

And for the most part, the good such servants receive, is after the model of their own fortune; but the hurt

they sell for that good, is after the model of their master's fortune. And certainly it is the nature of extreme

selflovers, as they will set an house on fire, and it were but to roast their eggs; and yet these men many

times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but to please them, and profit themselves; and for

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be

sure to leave a house, somewhat before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the badger, who

digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. But

that which is specially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of Pompey) are sui amantes, sine rivali,

are many times unfortunate. And whereas they have, all their times, sacrificed to themselves, they become in

the end, themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought, by their selfwisdom,

AS THE births of living creatures, at first are ill shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births of time.

Yet notwithstanding, as those that first bring honor into their family, are commonly more worthy than most

that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom attained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature, as it

stands perverted, hath a natural motion, strongest in con tinuance; but good, as a forced motion, strongest at

first. Surely every medicine is an innovation; and he that will not apply new remedies, must expect new evils;

for time is the greatest innovator; and if time of course alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel

shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end? It is true, that what is settled by custom, though it be

not good, yet at least it is fit; and those things which have long gone together, are, as it were, confederate

within themselves; whereas new things piece not so well; but though they help by their utility, yet they

trouble by their inconformity. Besides, they are like strangers; more admired, and less favored. All this is

true, if time stood still; which contrariwise moveth so round, that a froward retention of cus tom, is as

turbulent a thing as an innovation; and they that reverence too much old times, are but a scorn to the new. It

were good, therefore, that men in their innovations would follow the example of time itself; which indeed

innovateth greatly, but quietly, by degrees scarce to be perceived. For otherwise, whatsoever is new is

unlooked for; and ever it mends some, and pairs others; and he that is holpen, takes it for a fortune, and

thanks the time; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and imput eth it to the author. It is good also, not to try

experi ments in states, except the necessity be urgent, or the utility evident; and well to beware, that it be the

reformation, that draweth on the change, and not the desire of change, that pretendeth the refor mation. And

lastly, that the novelty, though it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect; and, as the Scripture saith, that we

make a stand upon the ancient way, and then look about us, and discover what is the straight and right way,

AFFECTED dispatch is one of the most danger ous things to business that can be. It is like that, which the

physicians call predigestion, or hasty digestion; which is sure to fill the body full of crudities, and secret

seeds of diseases. Therefore measure not dispatch, by the times of sitting, but by the advancement of the

business. And as in races it is not the large stride or high lift that makes the speed; so in business, the keeping

close to the matter, and not taking of it too much at once, pro cureth dispatch. It is the care of some, only to

come off speedily for the time; or to contrive some false periods of business, because they may seem men of

dispatch. But it is one thing, to abbreviate by contracting, another by cutting off . And business so handled, at

several sittings or meetings, goeth commonly backward and forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise

man that had it for a by word, when he saw men hasten to a conclusion, Stay a little, that we may make an

On the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing. For time is the measure of business, as money is of wares; and

business is bought at a dear hand, where there is small dispatch. The Spartans and Spaniards have been noted

to be of small dispatch; Mi venga la muerte de Spagna; Let my death come from Spain; for then it will be

Give good hearing to those, that give the first information in business; and rather direct them in the

beginning, than interrupt them in the con tinuance of their speeches; for he that is put out of his own order,

will go forward and backward, and be more tedious, while he waits upon his memory, than he could have

been, if he had gone on in his own course. But sometimes it is seen, that the moderator is more troublesome,

Iterations are commonly loss of time. But there is no such gain of time, as to iterate often the state of the

question; for it chaseth away many a frivo lous speech, as it is coming forth. Long and curious speeches, are

as fit for dispatch, as a robe or mantle, with a long train, is for race. Prefaces and pas sages, and excusations,

and other speeches of refer ence to the person, are great wastes of time; and though they seem to proceed of

modesty, they are bravery. Yet beware of being too material, when there is any impediment or obstruction in

men's wills; for preoccupation of mind ever requireth preface of speech; like a fomentation to make the

Above all things, order, and distribution, and singling out of parts, is the life of dispatch; so as the distribution

be not too subtle: for he that doth not divide, will never enter well into business; and he that divideth too

much, will never come out of it clearly. To choose time, is to save time; and an un seasonable motion, is but

beating the air. There be three parts of business; the preparation, the debate or examination, and the

perfection. Whereof, if you look for dispatch, let the middle only be the work of many, and the first and last

the work of few. The proceeding upon somewhat conceived in writing, doth for the most part facilitate

dispatch: for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that negative is more pregnant of direction, than an

IT HATH been an opinion, that the French are wiser than they seem, and the Spaniards seem wiser than they

are. But howsoever it be between nations, certainly it is so between man and man. For as the Apostle saith of

godliness, Having a show of godliness, but denying the power thereof; so certainly there are, in point of

wisdom and suf ficiently, that do nothing or little very solemnly: magno conatu nugas. It is a ridiculous

thing, and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see what shifts these formalists have, and what

prospectives to make superficies to seem body, that hath depth and bulk. Some are so close and reserved, as

they will not show their wares, but by a dark light; and seem always to keep back somewhat; and when they

know within themselves, they speak of that they do not well know, would nevertheless seem to others, to

know of that which they may not well speak. Some help themselves with countenance and gesture, and are

wise by signs; as Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him, he fetched one of his brows up to his

forehead, and bent the other down to his chin; Respondes, altero ad fron tem sublato, altero ad mentum

depresso super cilio, crudelitatem tibi non placere. Some think to bear it by speaking a great word, and

being per emptory; and go on, and take by admittance, that which they cannot make good. Some,

whatsoever is beyond their reach, will seem to despise, or make light of it, as impertinent or curious; and so

would have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are never without a difference, and commonly by amusing

men with a subtilty, blanch the matter; of whom A. Gellius saith, Hominem delirum, qui verborum minutiis

rerum frangit pondera. Of which kind also, Plato, in his Protagoras, bringeth in Prodius in scorn, and maketh

him make a speech, that consisteth of distinction from the be ginning to the end. Generally, such men in all

deliberations find ease to be of the negative side, and affect a credit to object and foretell difficul ties; for

when propositions are denied, there is an end of them; but if they be allowed, it requireth a new work; which

false point of wisdom is the bane of business. To conclude, there is no decaying mer chant, or inward

beggar, hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their wealth, as these empty persons have, to maintain the

credit of their suf ficiency. Seeming wise men may make shift to get opinion; but let no man choose them

for employ ment; for certainly you were better take for busi ness, a man somewhat absurd, than

IT HAD been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and untruth together in few words, than in that

speech, Whatsoever is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god. For it is most true, that a natural

and secret hatred, and aversation towards society, in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is

most un true, that it should have any character at all, of the divine nature; except it proceed, not out of a

pleas ure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self, for a higher conversation: such as

is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen; as Epimenides the Can dian, Numa the

Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian, and Apollonius of Tyana; and truly and really, in divers of the ancient

hermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what soli tude is, and how far it extendeth.

For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pic tures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where

there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: Magna civitas, magna solitudo; because in a great

town friends are scattered; so that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in less

neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable solitude to want

true friends; without which the world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude, whosoever

in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from

A principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and discharge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which

passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations, are the most

dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to

open the spleen, flowers of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart,

but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever

It is a strange thing to observe, how high a rate great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship,

whereof we speak: so great, as they purchase it, many times, at the hazard of their own safety and greatness.

For princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather

this fruit, ex cept (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some persons to be, as it were,

companions and almost equals to themselves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern lan

guages give unto such persons the name of favor ites, or privadoes; as if it were matter of grace, or

conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them parti cipes

curarum; for it is that which tieth the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and

passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to

themselves some of their servants; whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed other likewise to

call them in the same manner; using the word which is re ceived between private men.

L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed the Great) to that height, that Pompey

vaunted himself for Sylla's over match. For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of his, against

the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon

him again, and in effect bade him be quiet; for that more men adored the sun rising, than the sun setting. With

Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest as he set him down in his testament, for heir in

remainder, after his nephew. And this was the man that had power with him, to draw him forth to his death.

For when Caesar would have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill pres ages, and specially a dream of

Calpurnia; this man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss

the senate, till his wife had dreamt a better dream. And it seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a

letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's Philippics, calleth him venefica, witch; as if he had

enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height, as when he consulted with

Maecenas, about the mar riage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, that he must

either marry his daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there was no third way, he had made him so great.

With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended to that height, as they two were termed, and reckoned, as a pair

of friends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith, Haec pro amicitia nostra non occultavi; and the whole senate

dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship, between them

two. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. For he forced his eldest son to marry

the daughter of Plautianus; and would often maintain Plau tianus, in doing affronts to his son; and did write

also in a letter to the senate, by these words: I love the man so well, as I wish he may overlive me. Now if

these princes had been as a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had proceeded

of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of such strength and severity of mind, and so

extreme lovers of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most plainly that they found their own felicity

(though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an half piece, except they mought have a friend, to

make it entire; and yet, which is more, they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet all these

It is not to be forgotten, what Comineus observ eth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy, namely, that

he would communicate his secrets with none; and least of all, those secrets which troubled him most.

Whereupon he goeth on, and saith that towards his latter time, that closeness did impair, and a little perish his

understanding. Surely Comineus mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his

second master, Lewis the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is

dark, but true; Cor ne edito; Eat not the heart. Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want

friends, to open themselves unto, are carnnibals of their own hearts. But one thing is most admirable

(wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this com municating of a man's self to

his friend, works two contrary effects; for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no man,

that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend,

but he grieveth the less. So that it is in truth, of operation upon a man's mind, of like virtue as the alchemists

use to attribute to their stone, for man's body; that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and

benefit of nature. But yet without praying in aid of alchemists, there is a manifest image of this, in the

ordinary course of nature. For in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action; and on the

other side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impres sion: and even so it is of minds.

The second fruit of friendship, is healthful and sovereign for the understanding, as the first is for the

affections. For friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests; but it maketh

daylight in the understanding, out of darkness, and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood

only of faithful counsel, which a man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is, that

whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break up, in

the communicating and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he marshalleth them

more orderly, he seeth how they look when they are turned into words: finally, he waxeth wiser than himself;

and that more by an hour's discourse, than by a day's meditation. It was well said by Themistocles, to the king

of Persia, That speech was like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in

figure; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the

understanding, restrained only to such friends as are able to give a man counsel; (they indeed are best;) but

even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as

against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statua, or picture, than

Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other point, which lieth more open, and

falleth within vulgar observation; which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well in one of his

enigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from

another, is drier and purer, than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is ever

in fused, and drenched, in his affections and customs. So as there is as much difference between the coun

sel, that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend, and of a

flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man's self; and there is no such remedy against flattery of a

man's self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning man ners, the other

concerning business. For the first, the best preservative to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition

of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict account, is a medicine, some time too piercing and

corrosive. Reading good books of morality, is a little flat and dead. Observ ing our faults in others, is

sometimes improper for our case. But the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and best to take) is the admonition

of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold, what gross errors and extreme absurdities many (especially of the

greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to tell them of them; to the great damage both of their fame and

fortune: for, as St. James saith, they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and pres ently forget their

own shape and favor. As for business, a man may think, if he win, that two eyes see no more than one; or that

a gamester seeth always more than a lookeron; or that a man in anger, is as wise as he that hath said over the

four and twenty letters; or that a musket may be shot off as well upon the arm, as upon a rest; and such other

fond and high imaginations, to think him self all in all. But when all is done, the help of good counsel, is

that which setteth business straight. And if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces;

asking counsel in one business, of one man, and in another business, of another man; it is well (that is to say,

better, per haps, than if he asked none at all); but he runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully

counselled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such

as shall be bowed and crooked to some ends, which he hath, that giveth it. The other, that he shall have

counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly of mischief and partly of

remedy; even as if you would call a physician, that is thought good for the cure of the disease you complain

of, but is unac quainted with your body; and therefore may put you in way for a present cure, but

overthroweth your health in some other kind; and so cure the disease, and kill the patient. But a friend that is

wholly acquainted with a man's estate, will be ware, by furthering any present business, how he dasheth

upon other inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather distract and

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and support of the judgment), followeth the

last fruit; which is like the pome granate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, and bearing a part, in all actions

and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how

many things there are, which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear, that it was a sparing speech of

the ancients, to say, that a friend is another him self; for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have

their time, and die many times, in de sire of some things which they principally take to heart; the bestowing

of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the

care of those things will continue after him. So that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man

hath a body, and that body is confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are as it were

granted to him, and his deputy. For he may exercise them by his friend. How many things are there which a

man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man can scarce allege his own merits with

modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like.

But all these things are grace ful, in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So again, a man's

person hath many proper relations, which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to

his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the case requires, and

not as it sorteth with the person. But to enu merate these things were endless; I have given the rule, where a

man cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage.

RICHES are for spending, and spending for honor and good actions. Therefore extra ordinary expense must

be limited by the worth of the occasion; for voluntary undoing, may be as well for a man's country, as for the

kingdom of heaven. But ordinary expense, ought to be limited by a man's estate; and governed with such

regard, as it be within his compass; and not subject to de ceit and abuse of servants; and ordered to the best

show, that the bills may be less than the estima tion abroad. Certainly, if a man will keep but of even hand,

his ordinary expenses ought to be but to the half of his receipts; and if he think to wax rich, but to the third

part. It is no baseness, for the greatest to descend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not upon

negligence alone, but doubting to bring themselves into melancholy, in respect they shall find it broken. But

wounds can not be cured without searching. He that cannot look into his own estate at all, had need both

choose well those whom he employeth, and change them often; for new are more timorous and less subtle.

He that can look into his estate but seldom, it be hooveth him to turn all to certainties. A man had need, if he

be plentiful in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in some other. As if he be plenti ful in diet, to be

saving in apparel; if he be plenti ful in the hall, to be saving in the stable; and the like. For he that is

plentiful in expenses of all kinds, will hardly be preserved from decay. In clearing of a man's estate, he may

as well hurt himself in being too sudden, as in letting it run on too long. For hasty selling, is commonly as

disadvantage able as interest. Besides, he that clears at once will relapse; for finding himself out of straits,

he will revert to his custom: but he that cleareth by de grees, induceth a habit of frugality, and gaineth as

well upon his mind, as upon his estate. Cer tainly, who hath a state to repair, may not despise small things;

and commonly it is less dishonor able, to abridge petty charges, than to stoop to petty gettings. A man ought

warily to begin charges which once begun will continue; but in matters that return not, he may be more

THE speech of Themistocles the Athenian, which was haughty and arrogant, in taking so much to himself,

had been a grave and wise observation and censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a feast to touch a

lute, he said, He could not fiddle, but yet he could make a small town, a great city. These words (holpen a

little with a metaphor) may express two differing abilities, in those that deal in business of estate. For if a true

survey be taken of counsellors and statesmen, there may be found (though rarely) those which can make a

small state great, and yet cannot fid dle; as on the other side, there will be found a great many, that can

fiddle very cunningly, but yet are so far from being able to make a small state great, as their gift lieth the

other way; to bring a great and flourishing estate, to ruin and decay. And cer tainly whose degenerate arts

and shifts, whereby many counsellors and governors gain both favor with their masters, and estimation with

the vulgar, deserve no better name than fiddling; being things rather pleasing for the time, and graceful to

them selves only, than tending to the weal and advance ment of the state which they serve. There are also

(no doubt) counsellors and governors which may be held sufficient (negotiis pares), able to manage affairs,

and to keep them from precipices and manifest inconveniences; which nevertheless are far from the ability to

raise and amplify an estate in power, means, and fortune. But be the workmen what they may be, let us speak

of the work; that is, the true greatness of kingdoms and estates, and the means thereof. An argument fit for

great and mighty princes to have in their hand; to the end that neither by overmeasuring their forces, they

leese themselves in vain enterprises; nor on the other side, by undervaluing them, they descend to fearful and

The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, doth fall under measure; and the greatness of finances and

revenue, doth fall under computa tion. The population may appear by musters; and the number and

greatness of cities and towns by cards and maps. But yet there is not any thing amongst civil affairs more

subject to error, than the right valuation and true judgment concerning the power and forces of an estate. The

kingdom of heaven is compared, not to any great kernel or nut, but to a grain of mustardseed: which is one

of the least grains, but hath in it a property and spirit hastily to get up and spread. So are there states, great in

territory, and yet not apt to enlarge or command; and some that have but a small dimen sion of stem, and yet

Walled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly races of horse, chariots of war, elephants, ordnance,

artillery, and the like; all this is but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposi tion of the people,

be stout and warlike. Nay, num ber (itself) in armies importeth not much, where the people is of weak

courage; for (as Virgil saith) It never troubles a wolf, how many the sheep be. The army of the Persians, in

the plains of Arbela, was such a vast sea of people, as it did somewhat astonish the commanders in

Alexander's army; who came to him therefore, and wished him to set upon them by night; and he answered,

He would not pilfer the victory. And the defeat was easy. When Tigranes the Armenian, being encamped

upon a hill with four hundred thousand men, dis covered the army of the Romans, being not above fourteen

thousand, marching towards him, he made himself merry with it, and said, Yonder men are too many for an

embassage, and too few for a fight. But before the sun set, he found them enow to give him the chase with

infinite slaughter. Many are the examples of the great odds, between number and courage; so that a man may

truly make a judgment, that the principal point of great ness in any state, is to have a race of military men.

Neither is money the sinews of war (as it is trivially said), where the sinews of men's arms, in base and

effeminate people, are failing. For Solon said well to Croesus (when in ostentation he showed him his gold),

Sir, if any other come, that hath better iron, than you, he will be master of all this gold. There fore let any

prince or state think solely of his forces, except his militia of natives be of good and valiant soldiers. And let

princes, on the other side, that have subjects of martial disposition, know their own strength; unless they be

otherwise wanting unto themselves. As for mercenary forces (which is the help in this case), all examples

show, that whatsoever estate or prince doth rest upon them, he may spread his feathers for a time, but he will

The blessing of Judah and Issachar will never meet; that the same people, or nation, should be both the lion's

whelp and the ass between bur thens; neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes, should ever

become valiant and mar tial. It is true that taxes levied by consent of the estate, do abate men's courage less:

as it hath been seen notably, in the excises of the Low Countries; and, in some degree, in the subsidies of

England. For you must note, that we speak now of the heart, and not of the purse. So that although the same

tribute and tax, laid by consent or by imposing, be all one to the purse, yet it works diversely upon the

courage. So that you may conclude, that no people overcharged with tribute, is fit for empire.

Let states that aim at greatness, take heed how their nobility and gentlemen do multiply too fast. For that

maketh the common subject, grow to be a peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and in effect but the

gentleman's laborer. Even as you may see in coppice woods; if you leave your stad dles too thick, you shall

never have clean under wood, but shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if the gentlemen be too many, the

commons will be base; and you will bring it to that, that not the hundred poll, will be fit for an helmet;

especially as to the infantry, which is the nerve of an army; and so there will be great population, and little

strength. This which I speak of, hath been nowhere better seen, than by comparing of England and France;

whereof England, though far less in territory and population, hath been (nevertheless) an over match; in

regard the middle people of England make good soldiers, which the peasants of France do not. And herein the

device of king Henry the Seventh (whereof I have spoken largely in the History of his Life) was profound and

admirable; in making farms and houses of husbandry of a standard; that is, maintained with such a propor

tion of land unto them, as may breed a subject to live in convenient plenty and no servile condition; and to

keep the plough in the hands of the owners, and not mere hirelings. And thus indeed you shall attain to

Neither is that state (which, for any thing I know, is almost peculiar to England, and hardly to be found

anywhere else, except it be perhaps in Poland) to be passed over; I mean the state of free servants, and

attendants upon noblemen and gentlemen; which are no ways inferior unto the yeomanry for arms. And

therefore out of all ques tions, the splendor and magnificence, and great retinues and hospitality, of

noblemen and gentle men, received into custom, doth much conduce unto martial greatness. Whereas,

contrariwise, the close and reserved living of noblemen and gentle men, causeth a penury of military forces.

By all means it is to be procured, that the trunk of Nebuchadnezzar's tree of monarchy, be great enough to

bear the branches and the boughs; that is, that the natural subjects of the crown or state, bear a sufficient

proportion to the stranger sub jects, that they govern.Therefore all states that are liberal of naturalization

towards strangers, are fit for empire. For to think that an handful of people can, with the greatest courage and

policy in the world, embrace too large extent of dominion, it may hold for a time, but it will fail suddenly.

The Spartans were a nice people in point of naturaliza tion; whereby, while they kept their compass, they

stood firm; but when they did spread, and their boughs were becomen too great for their stem, they became a

windfall, upon the sudden. Never any state was in this point so open to receive strangers into their body, as

were the Romans. Therefore it sorted with them accordingly; for they grew to the greatest monarchy. Their

manner was to grant naturalization (which they called jus civitatis), and to grant it in the highest degree; that

is, not only jus commercii, jus connubii, jus haere ditatis; but also jus suffragii, and jus honorum. And this

not to singular persons alone, but likewise to whole families; yea to cities, and sometimes to nations. Add to

this their custom of plantation of colonies; whereby the Roman plant was removed into the soil of other

nations. And putting both constitutions together, you will say that it was not the Romans that spread upon the

world, but it was the world that spread upon the Romans; and that was the sure way of greatness. I have

marvelled, sometimes, at Spain, how they clasp and contain so large dominions, with so few natural

Spaniards; but sure the whole compass of Spain, is a very great body of a tree; far above Rome and Sparta at

the first. And besides, though they have not had that usage, to naturalize liberally, yet they have that which is

next to it; that is, to employ, almost indif ferently, all nations in their militia of ordinary soldiers; yea, and

sometimes in their highest com mands. Nay, it seemeth at this instant they are sensible, of this want of

It is certain that sedentary, and withindoor arts, and delicate manufactures (that require rather the finger than

the arm), have, in their na ture, a contrariety to a military disposition. And generally, all warlike people are a

little idle, and love danger better than travail. Neither must they be too much broken of it, if they shall be

preserved in vigor. Therefore it was great advantage, in the ancient states of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and

others, that they had the use of slaves, which commonly did rid those manufactures. But that is abolished, in

greatest part, by the Christian law. That which cometh nearest to it, is to leave those arts chiefly to strangers

(which, for that purpose, are the more easily to be received), and to contain the principal bulk of the vulgar

natives, within those three kinds, tillers of the ground; free servants; and handicraftsmen of strong and

manly arts, as smiths, masons, carpenters, etc.; not reckoning professed soldiers.

But above all, for empire and greatness, it im porteth most, that a nation do profess arms, as their principal

honor, study, and occupation. For the things which we formerly have spoken of, are but habilitations towards

arms; and what is habilita tion without intention and act? Romulus, after his death (as they report or feign),

sent a present to the Romans, that above all, they should intend arms; and then they should prove the greatest

empire of the world. The fabric of the state of Sparta was wholly (though not wisely) framed and composed,

to that scope and end. The Persians and Macedo nians had it for a flash. The Gauls, Germans, Goths,

Saxons, Normans, and others, had it for a time. The Turks have it at this day, though in great declination. Of

Christian Europe, they that have it are, in effect, only the Spaniards. But it is so plain, that every man

profiteth in that, he most intendeth, that it needeth not to be stood upon. It is enough to point at it; that no

nation which doth not directly profess arms, may look to have great ness fall into their mouths. And on the

other side, it is a most certain oracle of time, that those states that continue long in that profession (as the Ro

mans and Turks principally have done) do won ders. And those that have professed arms but for an age,

have, notwithstanding, commonly at tained that greatness, in that age, which main tained them long after,

Incident to this point is, for a state to have those laws or customs, which may reach forth unto them just

occasions (as may be pretended) of war. For there is that justice, imprinted in the nature of men, that they

enter not upon wars (whereof so many calamities do ensue) but upon some, at the least specious, grounds and

quarrels. The Turk hath at hand, for cause of war, the propagation of his law or sect; a quarrel that he may

always com mand. The Romans, though they esteemed the extending the limits of their empire, to be great

honor to their generals, when it was done, yet they never rested upon that alone, to begin a war. First,

therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness have this; that they be sensible of wrongs, either upon

borderers, merchants, or politic ministers; and that they sit not too long upon a provocation. Secondly, let

them be prest, and ready to give aids and succors, to their confederates; as it ever was with the Romans;

insomuch, as if the confederate had leagues defensive, with divers other states, and, upon invasion offered,

did implore their aids severally, yet the Romans would ever be the fore most, and leave it to none other to

have the honor. As for the wars which were anciently made, on the behalf of a kind of party, or tacit

conformity of estate, I do not see how they may be well justified: as when the Romans made a war, for the

liberty of Grecia; or when the Lacedaemonians and Athe nians, made wars to set up or pull down democ

racies and oligarchies; or when wars were made by foreigners, under the pretence of justice or pro tection,

to deliver the subjects of others, from tyranny and oppression; and the like. Let it suf fice, that no estate

No body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural body nor politic; and certainly to a kingdom or

estate, a just and honorable war, is the true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a fever; but a

foreign war is like the heat of exercise, and serveth to keep the body in health; for in a slothful peace, both

courages will effemi nate, and manners corrupt. But howsoever it be for happiness, without all question, for

greatness, it maketh to be still for the most part in arms; and the strength of a veteran army (though it be a

chargeable business) always on foot, is that which commonly giveth the law, or at least the reputa tion,

amongst all neighbor states; as may well be seen in Spain, which hath had, in one part or other, a veteran

To be master of the sea, is an abridgment of a monarchy. Cicero, writing to Atticus of Pompey his

preparation against Caesar, saith, Consilium Pompeii plane Themistocleum est; putat enim, qui mari potitur,

eum rerum potiri. And, without doubt, Pompey had tired out Caesar, if upon vain confidence, he had not left

that way. We see the great effects of battles bv sea. The battle of Actium, decided the empire of the world.

The battle of Le panto, arrested the greatness of the Turk. There be many examples, where seafights have

been final to the war; but this is when princes or states have set up their rest, upon the battles. But thus much

is certain, that he that commands the sea, is at great liberty, and may take as much, and as little, of the war as

he will. Whereas those that be strong est by land, are many times nevertheless in great straits. Surely, at this

day, with us of Europe, the vantage of strength at sea (which is one of the prin cipal dowries of this

kingdom of Great Britain) is great; both because most of the kingdoms of Eu rope, are not merely inland,

but girt with the sea most part of their compass; and because the wealth of both Indies seems in great part, but

The wars of latter ages seem to be made in the dark, in respect of the glory, and honor, which reflected upon

men from the wars, in ancient time. There be now, for martial encouragement, some degrees and orders of

chivalry; which nevertheless are conferred promiscuously, upon soldiers and no soldiers; and some

remembrance perhaps, upon the scutcheon; and some hospitals for maimed sol diers; and such like things.

But in ancient times, the trophies erected upon the place of the victory; the funeral laudatives and monuments

for those that died in the wars; the crowns and garlands per sonal; the style of emperor, which the great

kings of the world after borrowed; the triumphs of the generals, upon their return; the great donatives and

largesses, upon the disbanding of the armies; were things able to inflame all men's courages. But above all,

that of the triumph, amongst the Romans, was not pageants or gaudery, but one of the wisest and noblest

institutions, that ever was. For it contained three things: honor to the general; riches to the treasury out of the

spoils; and dona tives to the army. But that honor, perhaps were not fit for monarchies; except it be in the

person of the monarch himself, or his sons; as it came to pass in the times of the Roman emperors, who did

impro priate the actual triumphs to themselves, and their sons, for such wars as they did achieve in person;

and left only, for wars achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments and ensigns to the general.

To conclude: no man can by care taking (as the Scripture saith) add a cubit to his stature, in this little model

of a man's body; but in the great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of princes or

estates, to add amplitude and greatness to their kingdoms; for by introducing such ordinances, constitutions,

and customs, as we have now touched, they may sow greatness to their posterity and succession. But these

THERE is a wisdom in this; beyond the rules of physic: a man's own observation, what he finds good of, and

what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve health. But it is a safer conclu sion to say, This agreeth

not well with me, there fore, I will not continue it; than this, I find no offence of this, therefore I may use it.

For strength of nature in youth, passeth over many excesses, which are owing a man till his age. Discern of

the coming on of years, and think not to do the same things still; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden

change, in any great point of diet, and, if necessity enforce it, fit the rest to it. For it is a secret both in nature

and state, that it is safer to change many things, than one. Examine thy customs of diet, sleep, exercise,

apparel, and the like; and try, in any thing thou shalt judge hurtful, to discon tinue it, by little and little; but

so, as if thou dost find any inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it again: for it is hard to

distinguish that which is generally held good and wholesome, from that which is good particularly, and fit for

thine own body. To be freeminded and cheerfully disposed, at hours of meat, and of sleep, and of exercise,

is one of the best precepts of long lasting. As for the passions, and studies of the mind; avoid envy, anxious

fears; anger fretting inwards; subtle and knotty inquisitions; joys and exhilara tions in excess; sadness not

communicated. Enter tain hopes; mirth rather than joy; variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them;

wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties; studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustrious

objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it will be too

strange for your body, when you shall need it. If you make it too familiar, it will work no extra ordinary

effect, when sickness cometh. I commend rather some diet for certain seasons, than frequent use of physic,

except it be grown into a custom. For those diets alter the body more, and trouble it less. Despise no new

accident in your body, but ask opinion of it. In sickness, respect health prin cipally; and in health, action.

For those that put their bodies to endure in health, may in most sick nesses, which are not very sharp, be

cured only with diet, and tendering. Celsus could never have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a wise

man withal, when he giveth it for one of the great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do vary, and

interchange contraries, but with an inclina tion to the more benign extreme: use fasting and full eating, but

rather full eating; watching and sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but rather exercise; and the like.

So shall nature be cherished, and yet taught masteries. Physicians are, some of them, so pleasing and

conformable to the humor of the patient, as they press not the true cure of the disease; and some other are so

regular, in proceeding according to art for the disease, as they respect not sufficiently the condition of the

patient. Take one of a middle temper; or if it may not be found in one man, combine two of either sort; and

forget not to call as well, the best ac quainted with your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.

SUSPICIONS amongst thoughts, are like bats amongst birds, they ever fly by twilight. Cer tainly they are to

be repressed, or at least well guarded: for they cloud the mind; they leese friends; and they check with

business, whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands

to jeal ousy, wise men to irresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not in the heart, but in the brain; for

they take place in the stoutest natures; as in the example of Henry the Seventh of England. There was not a

more suspicious man, nor a more stout. And in such a composition they do small hurt. For commonly they

are not admitted, but with exami nation, whether they be likely or no. But in fearful natures they gain

ground too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know little; and therefore men

should remedy suspicion, by procuring to know more, and not to keep their suspicions in smother. What

would men have? Do they think, those they employ and deal with, are saints? Do they not think, they will

have their own ends, and be truer to themselves, than to them? Therefore there is no better way, to moderate

sus picions, than to account upon such suspicions as true, and yet to bridle them as false. For so far a man

ought to make use of suspicions, as to provide, as if that should be true, that he suspects, yet it may do him no

hurt. Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers, are but buzzes; but suspicions that are artificially nourished,

and put into men's heads, by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly, the best mean, to

clear the way in this same wood of suspicions, is frankly to com municate them with the party, that he

suspects; for thereby he shall be sure to know more of the truth of them, than he did before; and withal shall

make that party more circumspect, not to give further cause of suspicion. But this would not be done to men

of base natures; for they, if they find themselves once suspected, will never be true. The Italian says, Sospetto

licentia fede; as if suspicion, did give a passport to faith; but it ought, rather, to kindle it to discharge itself.

SOME, in their discourse, desire rather com mendation of wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of

judgment, in discerning what is true; as if it were a praise, to know what might be said, and not, what should

be thought. Some have certain common places, and themes, wherein they are good and want variety; which

kind of poverty is for the most part tedious, and when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honorablest part of

talk, is to give the occasion; and again to moderate, and pass to somewhat else; for then a man leads the

dance. It is good, in discourse and speech of con versation, to vary and intermingle speech of the present

occasion, with arguments, tales with rea sons, asking of questions, with telling of opinions, and jest with

earnest: for it is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade, any thing too far. As for jest, there be certain

things, which ought to be privileged from it; namely, religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's

present business of importance, and any case that deserveth pity. Yet there be some, that think their wits have

been asleep, except they dart out somewhat that is piquant, and to the quick. That is a vein which would be

And generally, men ought to find the difference, between saltness and bitterness. Certainly, he that hath a

satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory. He that

questioneth much, shall learn much, and content much; but especially, if he apply his ques tions to the skill

of the persons whom he asketh; for he shall give them occasion, to please themselves in speaking, and

himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his questions not be trouble some; for that is fit for a

poser. And let him be sure to leave other men, their turns to speak. Nay, if there be any, that would reign and

take up all the time, let him find means to take them off, and to bring others on; as musicians use to do, with

those that dance too long galliards. If you dis semble, sometimes, your knowledge of that you are thought to

know, you shall be thought, another time, to know that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought to be

seldom, and well chosen. I knew one, was wont to say in scorn, He must needs be a wise man, he speaks so

much of himself: and there is but one case, wherein a man may com mend himself with good grace; and that

is in commending virtue in another; especially if it be such a virtue, whereunto himself pretendeth. Speech of

touch towards others, should be spar ingly used; for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming home

to any man. I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England, whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept

ever royal cheer in his house; the other would ask, of those that had been at the other's table, Tell truly, was

there never a flout or dry blow given? To which the guest would answer, Such and such a thing passed. The

lord would say, I thought, he would mar a good dinner. Discretion of speech, is more than eloquence; and to

speak agreeably to him, with whom we deal, is more than to speak in good words, or in good order. A good

continued speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows slowness: and a good reply or second

speech, with out a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and weakness. As we see in beasts, that those

that are weakest in the course, are yet nimblest in the turn; as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare. To use

too many circumstances, ere one come to the matter, is wearisome; to use none at all, is blunt.

PLANTATIONS are amongst ancient, primi tive, and heroical works. When the world was young, it begat

more children; but now it is old, it begets fewer: for I may justly account new plan tations, to be the children

of former kingdoms. I like a plantation in a pure soil; that is, where people are not displanted, to the end, to

plant in others. For else it is rather an extirpation, than a plantation. Planting of countries, is like planting of

woods; for you must make account to leese al most twenty years' profit, and expect your recom pense in

the end. For the principal thing, that hath been the destruction of most plantations, hath been the base and

hasty drawing of profit, in the first years. It is true, speedy profit is not to be neg lected, as far as may stand

with the good of the plantation, but no further. It is a shameful and unblessed thing, to take the scum of

people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with whom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth

the plantation; for they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend

victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify over to their country, to the discredit of the plantation. The

people wherewith you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, laborers, smiths, carpenters, joiners,

fishermen, fowlers, with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and bakers. In a country of plantation, first

look about, what kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand; as chestnuts, walnuts, pineapples, olives,

dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like; and make use of them. Then consider what victual or

esculent things there are, which grow speedily, and within the year; as parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions,

radish, artichokes of Hierusalem, maize, and the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too much labor;

but with pease and beans you may begin, both because they ask less labor, and be cause they serve for meat,

as well as for bread. And of rice, likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat. Above all, there

ought to be brought store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal, and the like, in the beginning, till bread may be

had. For beasts, or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and multiply fastest; as swine,

goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, housedoves, and the like. The victual in plantations, ought to be ex

pended almost as in a besieged town; that is, with certain allowance. And let the main part of the ground,

employed to gardens or corn, be to a com mon stock; and to be laid in, and stored up, and then delivered out

in proportion; besides some spots of ground, that any particular person will manure for his own private.

Consider likewise what commodities, the soil where the plantation is, doth naturally yield, that they may

some way help to defray the charge of the plantation (so it be not, as was said, to the untimely prejudice of

the main business), as it hath fared with tobacco in Virginia. Wood commonly aboundeth but too much; and

therefore timber is fit to be one. If there be iron ore, and streams whereupon to set the mills, iron is a brave

commodity where wood aboundeth. Making of baysalt, if the climate be proper for it, would be put in

experience. Growing silk likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity. Pitch and tar, where store of firs and

pines are, will not fail. So drugs and sweet woods, where they are, cannot but yield great profit. Soapashes

likewise, and other things that may be thought of. But moil not too much under ground; for the hope of mines

is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters lazy, in other things. For government; let it be in the hands

of one, assisted with some counsel; and let them have commission to exercise martial laws, with some

limitation. And above all, let men make that profit, of being in the wilderness, as they have God always, and

his service, before their eyes. Let not the government of the plantation, depend upon too many counsellors,

and undertakers, in the country that planteth, but upon a temperate number; and let those be rather noblemen

and gentlemen, than merchants; for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be freedom from cus tom,

till the plantation be of strength; and not only freedom from custom, but freedom to carry their commodities,

where they may make their best of them, except there be some special cause of caution. Cram not in people,

by sending too fast company after company; but rather harken how they waste, and send supplies

proportionably; but so, as the number may live well in the plantation, and not by surcharge be in penury. It

hath been a great endangering to the health of some planta tions, that they have built along the sea and

rivers, in marish and unwholesome grounds. Therefore, though you begin there, to avoid carriage and like

discommodities, yet build still rather upwards from the streams, than along. It concerneth like wise the

health of the plantation, that they have good store of salt with them, that they may use it in their victuals,

when it shall be necessary. If you plant where savages are, do not only entertain them, with trifles and

gingles, but use them justly and graciously, with sufficient guard nevertheless; and do not win their favor, by

helping them to in vade their enemies, but for their defence it is not amiss; and send oft of them, over to the

country that plants, that they may see a better condition than their own, and commend it when they re turn.

When the plantation grows to strength, then it is time to plant with women, as well as with men; that the

plantation may spread into genera tions, and not be ever pieced from without. It is the sinfullest thing in the

world, to forsake or destitute a plantation once in forwardness; for besides the dishonor, it is the guiltiness of

I CANNOT call riches better than the baggage of virtue. The Roman word is better, impedi menta. For as

the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue. It cannot be spared, nor left behind, but it hindereth the

march; yea, and the care of it, sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory. Of great riches there is no real use,

except it be in the distribution; the rest is but conceit. So saith Solo mon, Where much is, there are many to

consume it; and what hath the owner, but the sight of it with his eyes? The personal fruition in any man,

cannot reach to feel great riches: there is a custody of them; or a power of dole, and donative of them; or a

fame of them; but no solid use to the owner. Do you not see what feigned prices, are set upon little stones and

rarities? and what works of osten tation are undertaken, because there might seem to be some use of great

riches? But then you will say, they may be of use, to buy men out of dangers or troubles. As Solomon saith,

Riches are as a strong hold, in the imagination of the rich man. But this is excellently expressed, that it is in

imagi nation, and not always in fact. For certainly great riches, have sold more men, than they have bought

out. Seek not proud riches, but such as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and leave

contentedly. Yet have no abstract nor friarly contempt of them. But distinguish, as Cicero saith well of

Rabirius Posthumus, In studio rei ampli ficandae apparebat, non avaritiae praedam, sed instrumentum

bonitati quaeri. Harken also to Solomon, and beware of hasty gathering of riches; Qui festinat ad divitias, non

erit insons. The poets feign, that when Plutus (which is Riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps and goes

slowly; but when he is sent from Pluto, he runs, and is swift of foot. Meaning that riches gotten by good

means, and just labor, pace slowly; but when they come by the death of others (as by the course of

inheritance, testaments, and the like), they come tumbling upon a man. But it mought be applied likewise to

Pluto, taking him for the devil. For when riches come from the devil (as by fraud and oppression, and unjust

means), they come upon speed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of them foul. Parsimony is one of the

best, and yet is not inno cent; for it withholdeth men from works of liberal ity and charity. The

improvement of the ground, is the most natural obtaining of riches; for it is our great mother's blessing, the

earth's; but it is slow. And yet where men of great wealth do stoop to husbandry, it multiplieth riches

exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in England, that had the great est audits of any man in my time; a great

grazier, a great sheepmaster, a great timber man, a great collier, a great cornmaster, a great leadman, and

so of iron, and a number of the like points of hus bandry. So as the earth seemed a sea to him, in respect of

the perpetual importation. It was truly observed by one, that himself came very hardly, to a little riches, and

very easily, to great riches. For when a man's stock is come to that, that he can expect the prime of markets,

and overcome those bargains, which for their greatness are few men's money, and be partner in the industries

of younger men, he cannot but increase mainly. The gains of ordinary trades and vocations are honest; and

furthered by two things chiefly: by diligence, and by a good name, for good and fair dealing. But the gains of

bargains, are of a more doubtful nature; when men shall wait upon others' necessity, broke by servants and

instruments to draw them on, put off others cunningly, that would be better chap men, and the like practices,

which are crafty and naught. As for the chopping of bargains, when a man buys not to hold but to sell over

again, that commonly grindeth double, both upon the seller, and upon the buyer. Sharings do greatly enrich, if

the hands be well chosen, that are trusted. Usury is the certainest means of gain, though one of the worst; as

that whereby a man doth eat his bread, in sudore vultus alieni; and besides, doth plough upon Sundays. But

yet certain though it be, it hath flaws; for that the scriveners and brokers do value unsound men, to serve their

own turn. The fortune in being the first, in an invention or in a privilege, doth cause sometimes a wonderful

overgrowth in riches; as it was with the first sugar man, in the Canaries. Therefore if a man can play the true

logician, to have as well judgment, as invention, he may do great matters; especially if the times be fit. He

that resteth upon gains certain, shall hardly grow to great riches; and he that puts all upon adventures, doth

oftentimes break and come to poverty: it is good, therefore, to guard adventures with certainties, that may

uphold losses. Monopo lies, and coemption of wares for resale, where they are not restrained, are great

means to enrich; especially if the party have intelligence, what things are like to come into request, and so

store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they are gotten by

flattery, feeding humors, and other serv ile conditions, they may be placed amongst the worst. As for fishing

for testaments and executor ships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, testamenta et orbos tamquam indagine capi), it

is yet worse; by how much men submit themselves to meaner per sons, than in service. Believe not much,

them that seem to despise riches; for they despise them, that despair of them; and none worse, when they

come to them. Be not pennywise; riches have wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves, some

times they must be set flying, to bring in more. Men leave their riches, either to their kindred, or to the public;

and moderate portions, prosper best in both. A great state left to an heir, is as a lure to all the birds of prey

round about, to seize on him, if he be not the better stablished in years and judg ment. Likewise glorious

gifts and foundations, are like sacrifices without salt; and but the painted sepulchres of alms, which soon will

putrefy, and corrupt inwardly. Therefore measure not thine advancements, by quantity, but frame them by

measure: and defer not charities till death; for, certainly, if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth so, is rather

I MEAN not to speak of divine prophecies; nor of heathen oracles; nor of natural predictions; but only of

prophecies that have been of cer tain memory, and from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa to Saul,

At domus AEneae cunctis dominabitur oris, Et nati natorum, et qui nascentur ab illis.

A prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire. Seneca the tragedian hath these verses:

Venient annis Saecula seris, quibus Oceanus Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque

a prophecy of the discovery of America. The daugh ter of Polycrates, dreamed that Jupiter bathed her father,

and Apollo anointed him; and it came to pass, that he was crucified in an open place, where the sun made his

body run with sweat, and the rain washed it. Philip of Macedon dreamed, he sealed up bis wife's belly;

whereby he did expound it, that his wife should be barren; but Aristander the soothsayer, told him his wife

was with child, because men do not use to seal vessels, that are empty. A phantasm that appeared to M.

Brutus, in his tent, said to him, Philippis iterum me videbis. Tiberius said to Galba, Tu quoque, Galba,

degusta bis imperium. In Vespasian's time, there went a prophecy in the East, that those that should come

forth of Judea, should reign over the world: which though it may be was meant of our Savior; yet Tacitus

expounds it of Vespasian. Domitian dreamed, the night before he was slain, that a golden head was growing,

out of the nape of his neck: and indeed, the succession that followed him for many years, made golden times.

Henry the Sixth of England, said of Henry the Seventh, when he was a lad, and gave him water, This is the

lad that shall enjoy the crown, for which we strive. When I was in France, I heard from one Dr. Pena, that the

Queen Mother, who was given to curious arts, caused the King her husband's nativity to be calculated, under

a false name; and the astrologer gave a judgment, that he should be killed in a duel; at which the Queen

laughed, thinking her hus band to be above challenges and duels: but he was slain upon a course at tilt, the

splinters of the staff of Montgomery going in at his beaver. The trivial prophecy, which I heard when I was a

whereby it was generally conceived, that after the princes had reigned, which had the principal letters of that

word hempe (which were Henry, Edward, Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth), England should come to utter

confusion; which, thanks be to God, is verified only in the change of the name; for that the King's style, is

now no more of Eng land but of Britain. There was also another proph ecy, before the year of '88, which I

There shall be seen upon a day, Between the Baugh and the May, The black fleet of Norway. When that that

is come and gone, England build houses of lime and stone, For after wars shall you have none.

It was generally conceived to be meant, of the Spanish fleet that came in '88: for that the king of Spain's

was thought likewise accomplished in the sending of that great fleet, being the greatest in strength, though

not in number, of all that ever swam upon the sea. As for Cleon's dream, I think it was a jest. It was, that he

was devoured of a long dragon; and it was expounded of a maker of sausages, that troubled him exceedingly.

There are numbers of the like kind; especially if you include dreams, and predictions of astrology. But I have

set down these few only, of certain credit, for example. My judg ment is, that they ought all to be despised;

and ought to serve but for winter talk by the fireside. Though when I say despised, I mean it as for be lief;

for otherwise, the spreading, or publishing, of them, is in no sort to be despised. For they have done much

mischief; and I see many severe laws made, to suppress them. That that hath given them grace, and some

credit, consisteth in three things. First, that men mark when they hit, and never mark when they miss; as they

do generally also of dreams. The second is, that probable conjectures, or obscure traditions, many times turn

themselves into prophecies; while the nature of man, which coveteth divination, thinks it no peril to foretell

that which indeed they do but collect. As that of Seneca's verse. For so much was then subject to

demonstration, that the globe of the earth had great parts beyond the Atlantic, which mought be probably

conceived not to be all sea: and adding thereto the tradition in Plato's Timaeus, and his Atlanticus, it mought

encourage one to turn it to a prediction. The third and last (which is the great one) is, that almost all of them,

being infinite in number, have been impostures, and by idle and crafty brains merely contrived and feigned,

AMBITION is like choler; which is an humor that maketh men active, earnest, full of alac rity, and stirring,

if it be not stopped. But if it be stopped, and cannot have his way, it becometh adust, and thereby malign and

venomous. So am bitious men, if they find the way open for their rising, and still get forward, they are

rather busy than dangerous; but if they be checked in their desires, they become secretly discontent, and look

upon men and matters with an evil eye, and are best pleased, when things go backward; which is the worst

property in a servant of a prince, or state. Therefore it is good for princes, if they use ambi tious men, to

handle it, so as they be still progres sive and not retrograde; which, because it cannot be without

inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures at all. For if they rise not with their service, they will take

order, to make their service fall with them. But since we have said, it were good not to use men of ambitious

natures, except it be upon necessity, it is fit we speak, in what cases they are of necessity. Good commanders

in the wars must be taken, be they never so ambitious; for the use of their service, dispenseth with the rest;

and to take a soldier without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There is also great use of ambitious men, in

being screens to princes in matters of danger and envy; for no man will take that part, except he be like a

seeled dove, that mounts and mounts, be cause he cannot see about him. There is use also of ambitious men,

in pulling down the greatness of any subject that overtops; as Tiberius used Marco, in the pulling down of

Sejanus. Since, therefore, they must be used in such cases, there resteth to speak, how they are to be bridled,

that they may be less dangerous. There is less danger of them, if they be of mean birth, than if they be noble;

and if they be rather harsh of nature, than gracious and popu lar: and if they be rather new raised, than

grown cunning, and fortified, in their greatness. It is counted by some, a weakness in princes, to have

favorites; but it is, of all others, the best remedy against ambitious greatones. For when the way of

pleasuring, and displeasuring, lieth by the favorite, it is impossible any other should be over great. Another

means to curb them, is to balance them by others, as proud as they. But then there must be some middle

counsellors, to keep things steady; for without that ballast, the ship will roll too much. At the least, a prince

may animate and inure some meaner persons, to be as it were scourges, to ambitions men. As for the having

of them obnoxious to ruin; if they be of fearful natures, it may do well; but if they be stout and daring, it may

precipitate their designs, and prove dangerous. As for the pulling of them down, if the affairs require it, and

that it may not be done with safety suddenly, the only way is the interchange, continually, of favors and

disgraces; whereby they may not know what to expect, and be, as it were, in a wood. Of ambitions, it is less

harmful, the ambition to prevail in great things, than that other, to appear in every thing; for that breeds

confusion, and mars business. But yet it is less dan ger, to have an ambitious man stirring in business, than

great in dependences. He that seeketh to be eminent amongst able men, hath a great task; but that is ever good

for the public. But he, that plots to be the only figure amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age. Honor

hath three things in it: the vantage ground to do good; the approach to kings and principal persons; and the

raising of a man's own fortunes. He that hath the best of these inten tions, when he aspireth, is an honest

man; and that prince, that can discern of these intentions in an other that aspireth, is a wise prince.

Generally, let princes and states choose such ministers, as are more sensible of duty than of using; and such

as love business rather upon conscience, than upon bravery, and let them discern a busy nature, from a

THESE things are but toys, to come amongst such serious observations. But yet, since princes will have such

things, it is better they should be graced with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to song, is a thing of

great state and pleasure. I understand it, that the song be in quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some

broken music; and the ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially in dialogues, hath an extreme good

grace; I say acting, not dancing (for that is a mean and vulgar thing); and the voices of the dia logue would

be strong and manly (a base and a tenor; no treble); and the ditty high and tragical; not nice or dainty. Several

quires, placed one over against another, and taking the voice by catches, anthemwise, give great pleasure.

Turning dances into figure, is a childish curiosity. And generally let it be noted, that those things which I here

set down, are such as do naturally take the sense, and not respect petty wonderments. It is true, the al

terations of scenes, so it be quietly and without noise, are things of great beauty and pleasure; for they feed

and relieve the eye, before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes abound with light, specially colored

and varied; and let the masquers, or any other, that are to come down from the scene, have some motions

upon the scene itself, before their coming down; for it draws the eye strangely, and makes it, with great

pleasure, to desire to see, that it cannot perfectly discern. Let the songs be loud and cheerful, and not

chirpings or pulings. Let the music likewise be sharp and loud, and well placed. The colors that show best by

candlelight are white, carnation, and a kind of seawatergreen; and oes, or spangs, as they are of no great

cost, so they are of most glory. As for rich embroidery, it is lost and not discerned. Let the suits of the

masquers be graceful, and such as be come the person, when the vizors are off; not after examples of known

attires; Turke, soldiers, mari ners', and the like. Let antimasques not be long; they have been commonly of

fools, satyrs, baboons, wildmen, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, Ethiops, pigmies, turquets, nymphs, rustics,

Cupids, statuas moving, and the like. As for angels, it is not comi cal enough, to put them in antimasques;

and anything that is hideous, as devils, giants, is on the other side as unfit. But chiefly, let the music of them

be recreative, and with some strange changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, without any drops

falling, are, in such a company as there is steam and heat, things of great pleasure and refreshment. Double

masques, one of men, another of ladies, addeth state and variety. But all is nothing except the room be kept

For justs, and tourneys, and barriers; the glories of them are chiefly in the chariots, wherein the challengers

make their entry; especially if they be drawn with strange beasts: as lions, bears, camels, and the like; or in

the devices of their en trance; or in the bravery of their liveries; or in the goodly furniture of their horses and

NATURE is often hidden; sometimes over come; seldom extinguished. Force, maketh nature more violent

in the return; doctrine and dis course, maketh nature less importune; but custom only doth alter and subdue

nature. He that seeketh victory over his nature, let him not set himself too great, nor too small tasks; for the

first will make him dejected by often failings; and the second will make him a small proceeder, though by

often pre vailings. And at the first let him practise with helps, as swimmers do with bladders or rushes; but

after a time let him practise with disadvan tages, as dancers do with thick shoes. For it breeds great

perfection, if the practice be harder than the use. Where nature is mighty, and therefore the victory hard, the

degrees had need be, first to stay and arrest nature in time; like to him that would say over the four and

twenty letters when he was angry; then to go less in quantity; as if one should, in forbearing wine, come from

drinking healths, to a draught at a meal; and lastly, to discontinue altogether. But if a man have the fortitude,

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

Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature, as a wand, to a contrary extreme, whereby to set it right,

understanding it, where the contrary ex treme is no vice. Let not a man force a habit upon himself, with a

perpetual continuance, but with some intermission. For both the pause reinforceth the new onset; and if a man

that is not perfect, be ever in practice, he shall as well practise his errors, as his abilities, and induce one habit

of both; and there is no means to help this, but by seasonable intermissions. But let not a man trust his victory

over his nature, too far; for nature will lay buried a great time, and yet revive, upon the occasion or

temptation. Like as it was with AEsop's damsel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat very de mutely at

the board's end, till a mouse ran before her. Therefore, let a man either avoid the occasion altogether; or put

himself often to it, that he may be little moved with it. A man's nature is best per ceived in privateness, for

there is no affectation; in passion, for that putteth a man out of his pre cepts; and in a new case or

experiment, for there custom leaveth him. They are happy men, whose natures sort with their vocations;

otherwise they may say, multum incola fuit anima mea; when they converse in those things, they do not

affect. In studies, whatsoever a man commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it; but whatsoever is

agreeable to his nature, let him take no care for any set times; for his thoughts will fly to it, of themselves; so

as the spaces of other business, or studies, will suffice. A man's nature, runs either to herbs or weeds;

MEN'S thoughts, are much according to their inclination; their discourse and speeches, according to their

learning and infused opinions; but their deeds, are after as they have been accus tomed. And therefore, as

Machiavel well noteth (though in an evilfavored instance), there is no trusting to the force of nature, nor to

the bravery of words, except it be corroborate by custom. His instance is, that for the achieving of a desperate

conspiracy, a man should not rest upon the fierce ness of any man's nature, or his resolute under takings;

but take such an one, as hath had his hands formerly in blood. But Machiavel knew not of a Friar Clement,

nor a Ravillac, nor a Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard; yet his rule holdeth still, that nature, nor the

engagement of words, are not so forcible, as custom. Only superstition is now so well advanced, that men of

the first blood, are as firm as butchers by occupation; and votary reso lution, is made equipollent to custom,

even in mat ter of blood. In other things, the predominancy of custom is everywhere visible; insomuch as a

man would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, en gage, give great words, and then do, just as they have

done before; as if they were dead images, and engines moved only by the wheels of custom. We see also the

reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. The Indians (I mean the sect of their wise men) lay themselves quietly

upon a stock of wood, and so sacrifice themselves by fire. Nay, the wives strive to be burned, with the

corpses of their hus bands. The lads of Sparta, of ancient time, were wont to be scourged upon the altar of

Diana, with out so much as queching. I remember, in the be ginning of Queen Elizabeth's time of England,

an Irish rebel condemned, put up a petition to the deputy, that he might be hanged in a withe, and not in an

halter; because it had been so used, with former rebels. There be monks in Russia, for pen ance, that will sit

a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be engaged with hard ice. Many examples may be put of the force

of custom, both upon mind and body. Therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of man's life, let

men by all means en deavor, to obtain good customs. Certainly custom is most perfect, when it beginneth in

young years: this we call education; which is, in effect, but an early custom. So we see, in languages, the

tongue is more pliant to all expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple, to all feats of activity and

motions, in youth than afterwards. For it is true, that late learners cannot so well take the ply; ex cept it be in

some minds, that have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept themselves open, and prepared to receive

continual amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the force of cus tom simple and separate, be great, the

force of custom copulate and conjoined and collegiate, is far greater. For there example teacheth, company

comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth: so as in such places the force of custom is in his exaltation.

Certainly the great multiplication of virtues upon human nature, resteth upon socie ties well ordained and

disciplined. For common wealths, and good governments, do nourish virtue grown but do not much mend

the deeds. But the misery is, that the most effectual means, are now applied to the ends, least to be desired.

IT CANNOT be denied, but outward accidents conduce much to fortune; favor, opportunity, death of others,

occasion fitting virtue. But chiefly, the mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands. Faber quisque fortunae

suae, saith the poet. And the most frequent of external causes is, that the folly of one man, is the fortune of

another. For no man prospers so suddenly, as by others' errors. Serpens nisi serpentem comederit non fit

draco. Overt and apparent virtues, bring forth praise; but there be secret and hidden virtues, that bring forth

fortune; certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no name. The Spanish name, desemboltura, partly

expresseth them; when there be not stonds nor restiveness in a man's nature; but that the wheels of his mind,

keep way with the wheels of his fortune. For so Livy (after he had described Cato Major in these words, In

illo viro tantum ro bur corporis et animi fuit, ut quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus

videretur) falleth upon that, that he had versatile ingenium. There fore if a man look sharply and attentively,

he shall see Fortune: for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible. The way of fortune, is like the Milken

Way in the sky; which is a meeting or knot of a number of small stars; not seen asunder, but giv ing light

together. So are there a number of little, and scarce discerned virtues, or rather facul ties and customs, that

make men fortunate. The Italians note some of them, such as a man would little think. When they speak of

one that cannot do amiss, they will throw in, into his other conditions, that he hath Poco di matto. And

certainly there be not two more fortunate properties, than to have a little of the fool, and not too much of the

honest. Therefore extreme lovers of their country or masters, were never fortunate, neither can they be. For

when a man placeth his thoughts without himself, he goeth not his own way. An hasty for tune maketh an

enterpriser and remover (the French hath it better, entreprenant, or remuant); but the exercised fortune maketh

the able man. Fortune is to be honored and respected, and it be but for her daughters, Confidence and

Reputation. For those two, Felicity breedeth; the first within a man's self, the latter in others towards him. All

wise men, to decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe them to Providence and Fortune; for so they

may the better assume them: and, besides, it is greatness in a man, to be the care of the higher powers. So

Caesar said to the pilot in the tempest, Caesarem portas, et fortunam ejus. So Sylla chose the name of Felix,

and not of Magnus. And it hath been noted, that those who ascribe openly too much to their own wisdom and

policy, end infor tunate. It is written that Timotheus the Athenian, after he had, in the account he gave to the

state of his government, often interlaced this speech, and in this, Fortune had no part, never prospered in

anything, he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be, whose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have a

slide and easiness more than the verses of other poets; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's for tune, in respect of

that of Agesilaus or Epaminon das. And that this shoulld be, no doubt it is much, in a man's self.

MANY have made witty invectives against usury. They say that it is a pity, the devil should have God's part,

which is the tithe. That the usurer is the greatest Sabbathbreaker, because his plough goeth every Sunday.

That the usurer breaketh the first law, that was made for mankind after the fall, which was, in sudore vultus

tui comedes panem tuum; not, in sudore vultus alieni. That usurers should have orangetawny bonnets,

because they do judaize. That it is against nature for money to beget money; and the like. I say this only, that

usury is a conces sum propter duritiem cordis; for since there must be borrowing and lending, and men are

so hard of heart, as they will not lend freely, usury must be permitted. Some others, have made suspicious and

cunning propositions of banks, discovery of men's estates, and other inventions. But few have spoken of

usury usefully. It is good to set before us, the incommodities and commodities of usury, that the good, may

be either weighed out or culled out; and warily to provide, that while we make forth to that which is better,

The discommodities of usury are, First, that it makes fewer merchants. For were it not for this lazy trade of

usury, money would not he still, but would in great part be employed upon merchan dizing; which is the

vena porta of wealth in a state. The second, that it makes poor merchants. For, as a farmer cannot husband his

ground so well, if he sit at a great rent; so the merchant cannot drive his trade so well, if he sit at great usury.

The third is incident to the other two; and that is the decay of customs of kings or states, which ebb or flow,

with merchandizing. The fourth, that it bringeth the treasure of a realm, or state, into a few hands. For the

usurer being at certainties, and others at uncer tainties, at the end of the game, most of the money will be in

the box; and ever a state flourisheth, when wealth is more equally spread. The fifth, that it beats down the

price of land; for the em ployment of money, is chiefly either merchandiz ing or purchasing; and usury

waylays both. The sixth, that it doth dull and damp all industries, im provements, and new inventions,

wherein money would be stirring, if it were not for this slug. The last, that it is the canker and ruin of many

On the other side, the commodities of usury are, first, that howsoever usury in some respect hinder eth

merchandizing, yet in some other it advanceth it; for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is driven by

young merchants, upon borrowing at interest; so as if the usurer either call in, or keep back, his money, there

will ensue, presently, a great stand of trade. The second is, that were it not for this easy borrowing upon

interest, men's neces sities would draw upon them a most sudden un doing; in that they would be forced to

sell their means (be it lands or goods) far under foot; and so, whereas usury doth but gnaw upon them, bad

markets would swallow them quite up. As for mortgaging or pawning, it will little mend the matter: for either

men will not take pawns with out use; or if they do, they will look precisely for the forfeiture. I remember a

cruel moneyed man in the country, that would say, The devil take this usury, it keeps us from forfeitures, of

mortgages and bonds. The third and last is, that it is a vanity to conceive, that there would be ordinary

borrow ing without profit; and it is impossible to conceive, the number of inconveniences that will ensue, if

borrowing be cramped. Therefore to speak of the abolishing of usury is idle. All states have ever had it, in

To speak now of the reformation, and reigle ment, of usury; how the discommodities of it may be best

avoided, and the commodities retained. It appears, by the balance of commodities and dis commodities of

usury, two things are to be recon ciled. The one, that the tooth of usury be grinded, that it bite not too much;

the other, that there be left open a means, to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, for the continuing

and quicken ing of trade. This cannot be done, except you intro duce two several sorts of usury, a less and

a greater. For if you reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the common borrower, but the merchant will be

to seek for money. And it is to be noted, that the trade of merchandize, being the most lucrative, may bear

To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly thus. That there be two rates of usury: the one free, and

general for all; the other under license only, to certain persons, and in certain places of merchandizing. First,

therefore, let usury in general, be reduced to five in the hundred; and let that rate be proclaimed, to be free

and current; and let the state shut itself out, to take any penalty for the same. This will preserve borrowing,

from any general stop or dryness. This will ease infinite borrowers in the country. This will, in good part,

raise the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen years' purchase will yield six in the hundred, and

somewhat more; whereas this rate of interest, yields but five. This by like reason will encourage, and edge,

industrious and profit able improvements; because many will rather venture in that kind, than take five in

the hun dred, especially having been used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be certain persons licensed,

to lend to known merchants, upon usury at a higher rate; and let it be with the cautions fol lowing. Let the

rate be, even with the merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he used formerly to pay; for by that

means, all bor rowers, shall have some ease by this reformation, be he merchant, or whosoever. Let it be no

bank or common stock, but every man be master of his own money. Not that I altogether mis like banks, but

they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain suspicions. Let the state be answered some small matter for

the license, and the rest left to the lender; for if the abatement be but small, it will no whit discourage the

lender. For he, for example, that took before ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend to eight in the

hundred than give over his trade of usury, and go from certain gains, to gains of hazard. Let these licensed

lenders be in number indefinite, but re strained to certain principal cities and towns of merchandizing; for

then they will be hardly able to color other men's moneys in the country: so as the license of nine will not

suck away the current rate of five; for no man will send his moneys far off, nor put them into unknown hands.

If it be objected that this doth in a sort authorize usury, which before, was in some places but per missive;

the answer is, that it is better to mitigate usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by connivance.

A MAN that is young in years, may be old in hours, if he have lost no time. But that hap peneth rarely.

Generally, youth is like the first cogitations, not so wise as the second. For there is a youth in thoughts, as

well as in ages. And yet the invention of young men, is more lively than that of old; and imaginations stream

into their minds better, and, as it were, more divinely. Natures that have much heat, and great and violent

desires and perturbations, are not ripe for action, till they have passed the meridian of their years; as it was

with Julius Caesar and Septimius Severus. Of the latter, of whom it is said, Juventutem egit erroribus, imo

furoribus, plenam. And yet he was the ablest em peror, almost, of all the list. But reposed natures may do

well in youth. As it is seen in Augustus Caesar, Cosmus Duke of Florence, Gaston de Foix, and others. On

the other side, heat and vivacity in age, is an excellent composition for business. Young men are fitter to

invent, than to judge; fitter for execution, than for counsel; and fitter for new projects, than for settled

business. For the experi ence of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, directeth them; but in new

The errors of young men, are the ruin of busi ness; but the errors of aged men, amount but to this, that more

might have been done, or sooner. Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they

can hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without considera tion of the means and degrees;

pursue some few principles, which they have chanced upon absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws un

known inconveniences; use extreme remedies at first; and, that which doubleth all errors, will not

acknowledge or retract them; like an unready horse, that will neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too

much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home to the full

period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of success. Certainly it is good to compound employments

of both; for that will be good for the present, because the virtues of either age, may correct the defects of

both; and good for succession, that young men may be learners, while men in age are actors; and, lastly, good

for extern accidents, because authority followeth old men, and favor and popularity, youth. But for the moral

part, perhaps youth will have the preeminence, as age hath for the politic. A certain rabbin, upon the text,

Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams, inferreth that young men, are

admitted nearer to God than old, because vision, is a clearer revelation, than a dream. And certainly, the more

a man drinketh of the world, the more it intoxicateth; and age doth profit rather in the powers of

understanding, than in the virtues of the will and affections. There be some, have an overearly ripeness in

their years, which fadeth betimes. These are, first, such as have brittle wits, the edge whereof is soon turned;

such as was Her mogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceed ing subtle; who afterwards waxed

stupid. A second sort, is of those that have some natural dispositions which have better grace in youth, than in

age; such as is a fluent and luxuriant speech; which becomes youth well, but not age: so Tully saith of

Hortensius, Idem manebat, neque idem decebat. The third is of such, as take too high a strain at the first, and

are magnanimous, more than tract of years can uphold. As was Scipio Africanus, of whom Livy saith in

VIRTUE is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best, in a body that is comely, though not of

delicate features; and that hath rather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect. Neither is it almost seen, that

very beautiful per sons are otherwise of great virtue; as if nature were rather busy, not to err, than in labor to

produce excellency. And therefore they prove accom plished, but not of great spirit; and study rather

behavior, than virtue. But this holds not always: for Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Belle of

France, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael the Sophy of Persia, were all high and

great spirits; and yet the most beautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favor, is more than that of color;

and that of decent and gracious motion, more than that of favor. That is the best part of beauty, which a

picture cannot express; no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty, that hath not some

strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether Apelles, or Albert Durer, were the more trifler;

whereof the one, would make a personage by geo metrical proportions; the other, by taking the best parts

out of divers faces, to make one excellent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody, but the painter that

made them. Not but I think a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do it by a kind of

felicity (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in music), and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that if

you examine them part by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well. If it be true that the

principal part of beauty is in decent motion, cer tainly it is no marvel, though persons in years seem many

times more amiable; pulchrorum autumnus pulcher; for no youth can be comely but by pardon, and

considering the youth, as to make up the comeliness. Beauty is as summer fruits,) which are easy to corrupt,

and cannot last; and for the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of countenance; but

yet cer tainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue shine, and vices blush.

DEFORMED persons are commonly even with nature; for as nature hath done ill by them, so do they by

nature; being for the most part (as the Scripture saith) void of natural affection; and so they have their

revenge of nature. Certainly there is a consent, between the body and the mind; and where nature erreth in the

one, she ventureth in the other. Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in al tero. But because there is, in man, an

election touching the frame of his mind, and a necessity in the frame of his body, the stars of natural inclina

tion are sometimes obscured, by the sun of disci pline and virtue. Therefore it is good to consider of

deformity, not as a sign, which is more deceivable; but as a cause, which seldom faileth of the effect.

Whosoever hath anything fixed in his person, that doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur in

himself, to rescue and deliver himself from scorn. Therefore all deformed persons, are extreme bold. First, as

in their own defence, as being ex posed to scorn; but in process of time, by a general habit. Also it stirreth in

them industry, and espe cially of this kind, to watch and observe the weak ness of others, that they may

have somewhat to repay. Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as persons that they

think they may, at pleasure, despise: and it layeth their competitors and emulators asleep; as never believ

ing they should be in possibility of advancement, till they see them in possession. So that upon the matter, in

a great wit, deformity is an advantage to rising. Kings in ancient times (and at this pres ent in some

countries) were wont to put great trust in eunuchs; because they that are envious towards all are more

obnoxious and officious, towards one. But yet their trust towards them, hath rather been as to good spials, and

good wbisperers, than good magistrates and officers. And much like is the reason of deformed persons. Still

the ground is, they will, if they be of spirit, seek to free them selves from scorn; which must be either by

virtue or malice; and therefore let it not be marvelled, if sometimes they prove excellent persons; as was

Agesilaus, Zanger the son of Solyman, AEsop, Gasca, President of Peru; and Socrates may go likewise

HOUSES are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use be preferred before uni formity, except

where both may be had. Leave the goodly fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted palaces of the

poets; who build them with small cost. He that builds a fair house, upon an ill seat, committeth himself to

prison. Neither do I reckon it an ill seat, only where the air is un wholesome; but likewise where the air is

unequal; as you shall see many fine seats set upon a knap of ground, environed with higher hills round about

it; whereby the heat of the sun is pent in, and the wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you shall have, and that

suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air only that

maketh an ill seat, but ill ways, ill markets; and, if you will consult with Momus, ill neighbors. I speak not of

many more; want of water; want of wood, shade, and shelter; want of fruitfulness, and mixture of grounds of

several natures; want of prospect; want of level grounds; want of places at some near distance for sports of

hunting, hawking, and races; too near the sea, too remote; having the commodity of navigable rivers, or the

discommodity of their overflowing; too far off from great cities, which may hinder business, or too near

them, which lurcheth all provisions, and maketh everything dear; where a man hath a great living laid

together, and where he is scanted: all which, as it is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good to know

them, and think of them, that a man may take as many as he can; and if he have several dwellings, that he sort

them so that what he wanteth in the one, he may find in the other. Lucullus answered Pompey well; who,

when he saw his stately galleries, and rooms so large and lightsome, in one of his houses, said, Surely an

excellent place for summer, but how do you in winter? Lucullus answered, Why, do you not think me as wise

To pass from the seat, to the house itself; we will do as Cicero doth in the orator's art; who writes books De

Oratore, and a book he entitles Orator; whereof the former, delivers the precepts of the art, and the latter, the

perfection. We will there fore describe a princely palace, making a brief model thereof. For it is strange to

see, now in Europe, such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial and some others be, and yet scarce a

First, therefore, I say you cannot have a perfect palace except you have two several sides; a side for the

banquet, as it is spoken of in the book of Hester, and a side for the household; the one for feasts and triumphs,

and the other for dwelling. I understand both these sides to be not only returns, but parts of the front; and to

be uniform without, though severally partitioned within; and to be on both sides of a great and stately tower,

in the midst of the front, that, as it were, joineth them together on either hand. I would have on the side of the

ban quet, in front, one only goodly room above stairs, of some forty foot high; and under it a room for a

dressing, or preparing place, at times of triumphs. On the other side, which is the household side, I wish it

divided at the first, into a hall and a chapel (with a partition between); both of good state and bigness; and

those not to go all the length, but to have at the further end, a winter and a summer parlor, both fair. And

under these rooms, a fair and large cellar, sunk under ground; and likewise some privy kitchens, with

butteries and pantries, and the like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, of eighteen foot high apiece,

above the two wings; and a goodly leads upon the top,railed with statuas interposed; and the same tower to be

di vided into rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise to the upper rooms, let them be upon a fair

open newel, and finely railed in, with images of wood, cast into a brass color; and a very fair landingplace at

the top. But this to be, if you do not point any of the lower rooms, for a dining place of servants. For

otherwise, you shall have the ser vants' dinner after your own: for the steam of it, will come up as in a

tunnel. And so much for the front. Only I understand the height of the first stairs to be sixteen foot, which is

Beyond this front, is there to be a fair court, but three sides of it, of a far lower building than the front. And in

all the four corners of that court, fair staircases, cast into turrets, on the outside, and not within the row of

buildings themselves. But those towers, are not to be of the height of the front, but rather proportionable to

the lower building. Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in summer, and much cold in

winter. But only some side alleys, with a cross, and the quar ters to graze, being kept shorn, but not too near

shorn. The row of return on the banquet side, let it be all stately galleries: in which galleries let there be three,

or five, fine cupolas in the length of it, placed at equal distance; and fine colored windows of several works.

On the household side, chambers of presence and ordinary entertainments, with some bedchambers; and let

all three sides be a double house, without thorough lights on the sides, that you may have rooms from the sun,

both for forenoon and afternoon. Cast it also, that you may have rooms, both for summer and winter; shady

for summer, and warm for winter. You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of glass, that one can not

tell where to become, to be out of the sun or cold. For inbowed windows, I hold them of good use (in cities,

indeed, upright do better, in respect of the uniformity towards the street); for they be pretty retiring places for

conference; and besides, they keep both the wind and sun off; for that which would strike almost through the

room, doth scarce pass the window. But let them be but few, four in the court, on the sides only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, of the same square and height; which is to be en vironed

with the garden on all sides; and in the inside, cloistered on all sides, upon decent and beautiful arches, as

high as the first story. On the under story, towards the garden, let it be turned to a grotto, or a place of shade,

or estivation. And only have opening and windows towards the gar den; and be level upon the floor, no whit

sunken under ground, to avoid all dampishness. And let there be a fountain, or some fair work of statuas, in

the midst of this court; and to be paved as the other court was. These buildings to be for privy lodgings on

both sides; and the end for privy galleries. Whereof you must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, if

the prince or any special person should be sick, with chambers, bedchamber, ante camera, and recamera

joining to it. This upon the second story. Upon the ground story, a fair gallery, open, upon pillars; and upon

the third story like wise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the prospect and freshness of the garden. At

both cor ners of the further side, by way of return, let there be two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved,

richly hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich cupola in the midst; and all other elegancy that may be

thought upon. In the upper gallery too, I wish that there may be, if the place will yield it, some fountains

running in divers places from the wall, with some fine avoidances. And thus much for the model of the

palace; save that you must have, before you come to the front, three courts. A green court plain, with a wall

about it; a second court of the same, but more garnished, with little turrets, or rather embellishments, upon the

wall; and a third court, to make a square with the front, but not to be built, nor yet enclosed with a naked wall,

but enclosed with terraces, leaded aloft, and fairly garnished, on the three sides; and cloistered on the inside,

with pillars, and not with arches below. As for offices, let them stand at dis tance, with some low galleries,

G0D Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed it is the purest of human pleasures. It is the greatest

refreshment to the spirits of man; without which, buildings and palaces are but gross handiworks; and a man

shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build stately sooner than to garden

finely; as if gardening were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to

be gardens, for all the months in the year; in which severally things of beauty may be then in season. For

December, and January, and the latter part of November, you must take such things as are green all winter:

holly; ivy; bays; juniper; cypresstrees; yew; pineappletrees; firtrees; rosemary; lavender; periwinkle, the

white, the purple, and the blue; germander; flags; orange trees; lemontrees; and myrtles, if they be stoved;

and sweet marjoram, warm set. There followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the

mezereontree, which then blossoms; crocus ver nus, both the yellow and the grey; primroses, anemones;

the early tulippa; hyacinthus orien talis; chamairis; fritellaria. For March, there come violets, specially the

single blue, which are the earliest; the yellow daffodil; the daisy; the almondtree in blossom; the peachtree

in blos som; the corneliantree in blossom; sweetbriar. In April follow the double white violet; the wall

flower; the stockgilliflower; the cowslip; flower delices, and lilies of all natures; rosemaryflowers; the

tulippa; the double peony; the pale daffodil; the French honeysuckle; the cherrytree in blos som; the

damson and plumtrees in blossom; the white thorn in leaf; the lilactree. In May and June come pinks of all

sorts, specially the blush pink; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later; honeysuckles;

strawberries; bugloss; columbine; the French marigold, flos Africanus; cherrytree in fruit; ribes; figs in fruit;

rasps; vine flowers; lavender in flowers; the sweet satyrian, with the white flower; herba muscaria; lilium

convallium; the appletree in blossom. In July come gilliflowers of all varieties; muskroses; the limetree in

blossom; early pears and plums in fruit; jennetings, codlins. In August come plums of all sorts in fruit; pears;

apricocks; berberries; filberds; muskmelons; monkshoods, of all colors. In September come grapes; apples;

poppies of all colors; peaches; melocotones; nectarines; cor nelians; wardens; quinces. In October and the

beginning of November come services; medlars; bullaces; roses cut or removed to come late; holly hocks;

and such like. These particulars are for the climate of London; but my meaning is perceived, that you may

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warb ling of

music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and

plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast flowers of their smells; so that you may

walk by a whole row of them, and find nothing of their sweetness; yea though it be in a morning's dew. Bays

likewise yield no smell as they grow. Rosemary little; nor sweet marjoram. That which above all others

yields the sweetest smell in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes twice a year;

about the middle of April, and about Bartholomewtide. Next to that is the muskrose. Then the

strawberryleaves dying, which yield a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of vines; it is a little

dust, like the dust of a bent, which grows upon the cluster in the first coming forth. Then sweetbriar. Then

wallflowers, which are very delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window. Then pinks and

gilliflowers, especially the matted pink and clove gilliflower. Then the flowers of the limetree. Then the

honey suckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean flowers I speak not, because they are field flowers.

But those which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and

crushed, are three; that is, burnet, wild thyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to set whole alleys of

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed princelike, as we have done of buildings), the con tents

ought not well to be under thirty acres of ground; and to be divided into three parts; a green in the entrance; a

heath or desert in the going forth; and the main garden in the midst; besides alleys on both sides. And I like

well that four acres of ground be assigned to the green; six to the heath; four and four to either side; and

twelve to the main garden. The green hath two pleasures: the one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye

than green grass kept finely shorn; the other, because it will give you a fair alley in the midst, by which you

may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to enclose the garden. But because the alley will be long, and,

in great heat of the year or day, you ought not to buy the shade in the garden, by going in the sun through the

green, therefore you are, of either side the green, to plant a covert alley upon carpenter's work, about twelve

foot in height, by which you may go in shade into the garden. As for the making of knots or figures, with

divers colored earths, that they may lie under the windows of the house on that side which the gar den

stands, they be but toys; you may see as good sights, many times, in tarts. The garden is best to be square,

encompassed on all the four sides with a stately arched hedge. The arches to be upon pil lars of carpenter's

work, of some ten foot high, and six foot broad; and the spaces between of the same dimension with the

breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there be an entire hedge of some four foot high, framed also upon

carpenter's work; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little tur ret, with a belly, enough to receive a

cage of birds: and over every space between the arches some other little figure, with broad plates of round

col ored glass gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be raised upon a bank, not steep, but

gently slope, of some six foot, set all with flowers. Also I understand, that this square of the garden, should

not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either side, ground enough for diversity of side alleys;

unto which the two covert alleys of the green, may deliver you. But there must be no alleys with hedges, at

either end of this great enclosure; not at the hither end, for letting your prospect upon this fair hedge from the

green; nor at the further end, for letting your prospect from the hedge, through the arches upon the heath.

For the ordering of the ground, within the great hedge, I leave it to variety of device; advising nevertheless,

that whatsoever form you cast it into, first, it be not too busy, or full of work. Wherein I, for my part, do not

like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff; they be for children. Little low hedges, round, like welts,

with some pretty pyramids, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon frames of carpenter's work. I

would also have the alleys, spacious and fair. You may have closer alleys, upon the side grounds, but none in

the main garden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount, with three ascents, and alleys, enough for four

to walk abreast; which I would have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or embossments; and the

whole mount to be thirty foot high; and some fine banquetinghouse, with some chimneys neatly cast, and

For fountains, they are a great beauty and re freshment; but pools mar all, and make the garden

unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Foun tains I intend to be of two natures: the one that sprinkleth or

spouteth water; the other a fair re ceipt of water, of some thirty or forty foot square, but without fish, or

slime, or mud. For the first, the ornaments of images gilt, or of marble, which are in use, do well: but the

main matter is so to convey the water, as it never stay, either in the bowls or in the cistern; that the water be

never by rest discolored, green or red or the like; or gather any mossiness or putrefaction. Besides that, it is to

be cleansed every day by the hand. Also some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. As

for the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing pool, it may admit much curiosity and beauty;

wherewith we will not trouble ourselves: as, that the bottom be finely paved, and with images; the sides

likewise; and withal embellished with colored glass, and such things of lustre; encompassed also with fine

rails of low statuas. But the main point is the same which we mentioned in the former kind of foun tain;

which is, that the water be in perpetual motion, fed by a water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by

fair spouts, and then dis charged away under ground, by some equality of bores, that it stay little. And for

fine devices, of arching water without spilling, and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, drinking

glasses, canopies, and the like), they be pretty things to look on, but nothing to health and sweetness.

For the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wish it to be framed, as much as may be, to a natural

wildness. Trees I would have none in it, but some thickets made only of sweetbriar and honeysuckle, and

some wild vine amongst; and the ground set with violets, strawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet,

and prosper in the shade. And these to be in the heath, here and there, not in any order. I like also little heaps,

in the na ture of molehills (such as are in wild heaths), to be set, some with wild thyme; some with pinks;

some with germander, that gives a good flower to the eye; some with periwinkle; some with violets; some

with strawberries; some with cowslips; some with daisies; some with red roses; some with lilium convallium;

some with sweetwilliams red; some with bear'sfoot: and the like low flowers, being withal sweet and

sightly. Part of which heaps, are to be with standards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and part without.

The standards to be roses; juniper; holly; berberries (but here and there, because of the smell of their

blossoms); red currants; gooseberries; rosemary; bays; sweet briar; and such like. But these standards to be

For the side grounds, you are to fill them with variety of alleys, private, to give a full shade, some of them,

wheresoever the sun be. You are to frame some of them, likewise, for shelter, that when the wind blows sharp

you may walk as in a gallery. And those alleys must be likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind;

and these closer alleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, be cause of going wet. In many of these

alleys, like wise, you are to set fruittrees of all sorts; as well upon the walls, as in ranges. And this would

be generally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruittrees, be fair and large, and low, and not

steep; and set with fine flowers, but thin and sparingly, lest they deceive the trees. At the end of both the side

grounds, I would have a mount of some pretty height, leaving the wall of the en closure breast high, to look

For the main garden, I do not deny, but there should be some fair alleys ranged on both sides, with

fruittrees; and some pretty tufts of fruit trees, and arbors with seats, set in some decent order; but these to

be by no means set too thick; but to leave the main garden so as it be not close, but the air open and free. For

as for shade, I would have you rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you be disposed, in

the heat of the year or day; but to make account, that the main garden is for the more temperate parts of the

year; and in the heat of summer, for the morning and the evening, or overcast days.

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness as they may be turfed, and have living plants

and bushes set in them; that the birds may have more scope, and natural nesting, and that no foulness appear

in the floor of the aviary. So I have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by precept, partly by

drawing, not a model, but some general lines of it; and in this I have spared for no cost. But it is nothing for

great princes, that for the most part taking advice with workmen, with no less cost set their things to gether;

and sometimes add statuas and such things for state and magnificence, but nothing to the true pleasure of a

IT IS generally better to deal by speech than by letter; and by the mediation of a third than by a man's self.

Letters are good, when a man would draw an answer by letter back again; or when it may serve for a man's

justification afterwards to produce his own letter; or where it may be danger to be interrupted, or heard by

pieces. To deal in person is good, when a man's face breedeth regard, as commonly with inferiors; or in

tender cases, where a man's eye, upon the countenance of him with whom he speaketh, may give him a

direction how far to go; and generally, where a man will reserve to himself liberty, either to disavow or to

expound. In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of a plainer sort, that are like to do that, that is

committed to them, and to report back again faithfully the success, than those that are cunning, to contrive,

out of other men's business, somewhat to grace themselves, and will help the matter in report for satisfaction's

sake. Use also such persons as affect the business, wherein they are employed; for that quickeneth much; and

such, as are fit for the matter; as bold men for ex postulation, fairspoken men for persuasion, crafty men

for inquiry and observation, froward, and absurd men, for business that doth not well bear out itself. Use also

such as have been lucky, and prevailed before, in things wherein you have em ployed them; for that breeds

confidence, and they will strive to maintain their prescription. It is bet ter to sound a person, with whom one

deals afar off, than to fall upon the point at first; except you mean to surprise him by some short question. It

is better dealing with men in appetite, than with those that are where they would be. If a man deal with

another upon conditions, the start or first per formance is all; which a man cannot reasonably demand,

except either the nature of the thing be such, which must go before; or else a man can persuade the other

party, that he shall still need him in some other thing; or else that he be counted the honester man. All

practice is to discover, or to work. Men discover themselves in trust, in passion, at unawares, and of

necessity, when they would have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pre text. If you would work any

man, you must either know his nature and fashions, and so lead him; or his ends, and so persuade him; or his

weakness and disadvantages, and so awe him; or those that have interest in him, and so govern him. In

dealing with cunning persons,we must ever consider their ends, to interpret their speeches; and it is good to

say little to them, and that which they least look for. In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look to

COSTLY followers are not to be liked; lest while a man maketh his train longer, he make his wings shorter. I

reckon to be costly, not them alone which charge the purse, but which are wearisome, and importune in suits.

Ordinary fol lowers ought to challenge no higher conditions, than countenance, recommendation, and

protec tion from wrongs. Factious followers are worse to be liked, which follow not upon affection to him,

with whom they range themselves, but upon discontentment conceived against some other; whereupon

commonly ensueth that ill intelli gence, that we many times see between great per sonages. Likewise

glorious followers, who make themselves as trumpets of the commendation of those they follow, are full of

inconvenience; for they taint business through want of secrecy; and they export honor from a man, and make

him a return in envy. There is a kind of followers like wise, which are dangerous, being indeed espials;

which inquire the secrets of the house, and bear tales of them, to others. Yet such men, many times, are in

great favor; for they are officious, and com monly exchange tales. The following by certain estates of men,

answerable to that, which a great person himself professeth (as of soldiers, to him that hath been employed in

the wars, and the like), hath ever been a thing civil, and well taken, even in monarchies; so it be without too

much pomp or popularity. But the most honorable kind of fol lowing, is to be followed as one, that

apprehendeth to advance virtue, and desert, in all sorts of per sons. And yet, where there is no eminent odds

in sufficiency, it is better to take with the more pass able, than with the more able. And besides, to speak

truth, in base times, active men are of more use than virtuous. It is true that in government, it is good to use

men of one rank equally: for to coun tenance some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and the rest

discontent; because they may claim a due. But contrariwise, in favor, to use men with much difference and

election is good; for it maketh the persons preferred more thankful, and the rest more officious: because all is

of favor. It is good discretion, not to make too much of any man at the first; because one cannot hold out that

proportion. To be governed (as we call it) by one is not safe; for it shows softness, and gives a freedom, to

scandal and disreputation; for those, that would not censure or speak ill of a man imme diately, will talk

more boldly of those that are so great with them, and thereby wound their honor. Yet to be distracted with

many is worse; for it makes men to be of the last impression, and full of change. To take advice of some few

friends, is ever honorable; for lookerson many times see more than gamesters; and the vale best discovereth

the hill. There is little friendship in the world, and least of all between equals, which was wont to be mag

nified. That that is, is between superior and in ferior, whose fortunes may comprehend the one the other.

MANY ill matters and projects are under taken; and private suits do putrefy the pub lic good. Many good

matters, are undertaken with bad minds; I mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that intend not

performance. Some embrace suits, which never mean to deal effectu ally in them; but if they see there may

be life in the matter, by some other mean, they will be con tent to win a thank, or take a second reward, or at

least to make use, in the meantime, of the suitor's hopes. Some take hold of suits, only for an occa sion to

cross some other; or to make an informa tion, whereof they could not otherwise have apt pretext; without

care what become of the suit, when that turn is served; or, generally, to make other men's business a kind of

entertainment, to bring in their own. Nay, some undertake suits, with a full purpose to let them fall; to the end

to gratify the adverse party, or competitor. Surely there is in some sort a right in every suit; either a right of

equity, if it be a suit of controversy; or a right of desert, if it be a suit of petition. If affection lead a man to

favor the wrong side in justice, let him rather use his countenance to compound the matter, than to carry it. If

affection lead a man to favor the less worthy in desert, let him do it, without depraving or disabling the better

deserver. In suits which a man doth not well understand, it is good to refer them to some friend of trust and

judgment, that may report, whether he may deal in them with honor: but let him choose well his

referendaries, for else he may be led by the nose. Suitors are so distasted with delays and abuses, that plain

dealing, in denying to deal in suits at first, and reporting the success barely, and in chal lenging no more

thanks than one hath deserved, is grown not only honorable, but also gracious. In suits of favor, the first

coming ought to take little place: so far forth, consideration may be had of his trust, that if intelligence of the

matter could not otherwise have been had, but by him, advan tage be not taken of the note, but the party left

to his other means; and in some sort recompensed, for his discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit, is

simplicity; as well as to be ignorant of the right thereof, is want of conscience. Secrecy in suits, is a great

mean of obtaining; for voicing them to be in forwardness, may discourage some kind of suitors, but doth

quicken and awake others. But timing of the suit is the principal. Timing, I say, not only in respect of the

person that should grant it, but in respect of those, which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the choice of his

mean, rather choose the fittest mean, than the greatest mean; and rather them that deal in certain things, than

those that are general. The reparation of a denial, is sometimes equal to the first grant; if a man show himself

neither dejected nor discontented. Iniquum petas ut aequum feras is a good rule, where a man hath strength of

favor: but other wise, a man were better rise in his suit; for he, that would have ventured at first to have lost

the suitor, will not in the conclusion lose both the suitor, and his own former favor. Nothing is thought so

easy a request to a great person, as his letter; and yet, if it be not in a good cause, it is so much out of his

reputation. There are no worse instruments, than these general contrivers of suits; for they are but a kind of

STUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in privateness and

retiring; for ornament, is in dis course; and for ability, is in the judgment, and disposition of business. For

expert men can exe cute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the

plots and mar shalling of affairs, come best, from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies

is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the

humor of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected by experience: for natural abilities are like natural

plants, that need proyning, by study; and studies themselves, do give forth directions too much at large,

except they be bounded in by ex perience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise

men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom with out them, and above them, won by

observation. Read not to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to find talk and dis

course; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be

chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and

some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and

extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less impor tant arguments, and the meaner

sort of books, else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man;

confer ence a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a

great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much

cunning, to seem to know, that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtile;

natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abeunt studia in mores. Nay, there

is no stond or impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies; like as diseases of the body, may

have appropriate exercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the lungs and breast; gentle

walking for the stomach; riding for the head; and the like. So if a man's wit be wan dering, let him study the

mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again. If his wit be

not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the Schoolmen; for they are cymini sectores. If he be

not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study 197 the

MANY have an opinion not wise, that for a prince to govern his estate, or for a great person to govern his

proceedings, according to the respect of factions, is a principal part of policy; whereas contrariwise, the

chiefest wisdom, is either in ordering those things which are general, and wherein men of several factions do

neverthe less agree; or in dealing with correspondence to particular persons, one by one. But I say not that

the considerations of factions, is to be neglected. Mean men, in their rising, must adhere; but great men, that

have strength in themselves, were better to maintain themselves indifferent, and neutral. Yet even in

beginners, to adhere so moder ately, as he be a man of the one faction, which is most passable with the

other, commonly giveth best way. The lower and weaker faction, is the firmer in conjunction; and it is often

seen, that a few that are stiff, do tire out a greater number, that are more moderate. When one of the factions

is ex tinguished, the remaining subdivideth; as the faction between Lucullus, and the rest of the nobles of

the senate (which they called Optimates) held out awhile, against the faction of Pompey and Caesar; but

when the senate's authority was pulled down, Caesar and Pompey soon after brake. The faction or party of

Antonius and Octavianus Caesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held out like wise for a time; but when Brutus

and Cassius were overthrown, then soon after, Antonius and Octa vianus brake and subdivided. These

examples are of wars, but the same holdeth in private factions. And therefore, those that are seconds in

factions, do many times, when the faction subdivideth, prove principals; but many times also, they prove

ciphers and cashiered; for many a man's strength is in opposition; and when that faileth, he groweth out of

use. It is commonly seen, that men, once placed, take in with the contrary faction, to that by which they enter:

thinking belike, that they have the first sure, and now are ready for a new purchase. The traitor in faction,

lightly goeth away with it; for when matters have stuck long in balancing, the winning of some one man

casteth them, and he getteth all the thanks. The even car riage between two factions, proceedeth not always

of moderation, but of a trueness to a man's self, with end to make use of both. Certainly in Italy, they hold it a

little suspect in popes, when they have often in their mouth Padre commune: and take it to be a sign of one,

that meaneth to refer all to the greatness of his own house. Kings had need beware, how they side themselves,

and make themselves as of a faction or party; for leagues within the state, are ever pernicious to monarchies:

for they raise an obligation, paramount to obliga tion of sovereignty, and make the king tanquam unus ex

nobis; as was to be seen in the League of France. When factions are carried too high and too violently, it is a

sign of weakness in princes; and much to the prejudice, both of their authority and business. The motions of

factions under kings ought to be, like the motions (as the astronomers speak) of the inferior orbs, which may

have their proper motions, but yet still are quietly carried, by the higher motion of primum mobile.

HE THAT is only real, had need have exceed ing great parts of virtue; as the stone had need to be rich, that

is set without foil. But if a man mark it well, it is, in praise and commenda tion of men, as it is in gettings

and gains: for the proverb is true, That light gains make heavy purses; for light gains come thick, whereas

great, come but now and then. So it is true, that small matters win great commendation, because they are

continually in use and in note: whereas the occasion of any great virtue, cometh but on festi vals. Therefore

it doth much add to a man's reputa tion, and is (as Queen Isabella said) like perpetual letters commendatory,

to have good forms. To at tain them, it almost sufficeth not to despise them; for so shall a man observe them

in others; and let him trust himself with the rest. For if he labor too much to express them, he shall lose their

grace; which is to be natural and unaffected. Some men's behavior is like a verse, wherein every syllable is

measured; how can a man comprehend great mat ters, that breaketh his mind too much, to small

observations? Not to use ceremonies at all, is to teach others not to use them again; and so dimin isheth

respect to himself; especially they be not to be omitted, to strangers and formal natures; but the dwelling

upon them, and exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious, but doth diminish the faith and credit of

him that speaks. And cer tainly, there is a kind of conveying, of effectual and imprinting passages amongst

compliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit upon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be sure of

familiarity; and therefore it is good, a little to keep state. Amongst a man's inferiors one shall be sure of

reverence; and therefore it is good, a little to be familiar. He that is too much in anything, so that he giveth

another occasion of satiety, maketh him self cheap. To apply one's self to others, is good; so it be with

demonstration, that a man doth it upon regard, and not upon facility. It is a good precept generally, in

seconding another, yet to add some what of one's own: as if you will grant his opinion, let it be with some

distinction; if you will follow his motion, let it be with condition; if you allow his counsel, let it be with

alleging further reason. Men had need beware, how they be too perfect in compliments; for be they never so

sufficient other wise, their enviers will be sure to give them that attribute, to the disadvantage of their

greater vir tues. It is loss also in business, to be too full of re spects, or to be curious, in observing times

and opportunities. Solomon saith, He that considereth the wind, shall not sow, and he that looketh to the

clouds, shall not reap. A wise man will make more opportunities, than he finds. Men's behavior should be,

like their apparel, not too strait or point device, but free for exercise or motion.

PRAISE is the reflection of virtue; but it is as the glass or body, which giveth the reflec tion. If it be from

the common people, it is com monly false and naught; and rather followeth vain persons, than virtuous. For

the common people understand not many excellent virtues. The lowest virtues draw praise from them; the

middle virtues work in them astonishment or admiration; but of the highest virtues, they have no sense of

perceiv ing at all. But shows, and species virtutibus similes, serve best with them. Certainly fame is like a

river, that beareth up things light and swoln, and drowns things weighty and solid. But if persons of quality

and judgment concur, then it is (as the Scripture saith) nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis. It fireth all

round about, and will not easily away. For the odors of ointments are more durable, than those of flowers.

There be so many false points of praise, that a man may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed merely

of flattery; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, he will have certain com mon attributes, which may serve

every man; if he be a cunning flatterer, he will follow the arch flatterer, which is a man's self; and wherein a

man thinketh best of himself, therein the flatterer will uphold him most: but if he be an impudent flat terer,

look wherein a man is conscious to himself, that he is most defective, and is most out of counte nance in

himself, that will the flatterer entitle him to perforce, spreta conscientia. Some praises come of good wishes

and respects, which is a form due, in civility, to kings and great persons, laudando praecipere, when by telling

men what they are, they represent to them, what they should be. Some men are praised maliciously, to their

hurt, thereby to stir envy and jealousy towards them: pessimum genus inimicorum laudantium; insomuch as it

was a proverb, amongst the Grecians, that he that was praised to his hurt, should have a push rise upon his

nose; as we say, that a blister will rise upon one's tongue, that tells a lie. Certainly mod erate praise, used

with opportunity, and not vul gar, is that which doth the good. Solomon saith, He that praiseth his friend

aloud, rising early, it shall be to him no better than a curse. Too much magnifying of man or matter, doth

irritate con tradiction, and procure envy and scorn. To praise a man's self, cannot be decent, except it be in

rare cases; but to praise a man's office or profession, he may do it with good grace, and with a kind of mag

nanimity. The cardinals of Rome, which are theo logues, and friars, and Schoolmen, have a phrase of

notable contempt and scorn towards civil busi ness: for they call all temporal business of wars, embassages,

judicature, and other employments, sbirrerie, which is undersheriffries; as if they were but matters, for

undersheriffs and catch poles: though many times those undersheriffries do more good, than their high

speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts of himself, he doth oft inter lace, I speak like a fool; but speaking of

IT WAS prettily devised of AEsop, The fly sat upon the axletree of the chariot wheel, and said, What a dust

do I raise! So are there some vain persons, that whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon greater means, if

they have never so little hand in it, they think it is they that carry it. They that are glorious, must needs be

factious; for all bravery stands upon comparisons. They must needs be violent, to make good their own

vaunts. Neither can they be secret, and therefore not ef fectual; but according to the French proverb,

Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit; Much bruit little fruit. Yet certainly, there is use of this quality in civil

affairs. Where there is an opinion and fame to be created, either of virtue or greatness, these men are good

trumpeters. Again, as Titus Livius noteth, in the case of Antiochus and the AEtolians, There are sometimes

great effects, of cross lies; as if a man, that negotiates between two princes, to draw them to join in a war

against the third, doth extol the forces of either of them, above measure, the one to the other: and sometimes

he that deals be tween man and man, raiseth his own credit with both, by pretending greater interest than he

hath in either. And in these and the like kinds, it often falls out, that somewhat is produced of nothing; for lies

are sufficient to breed opinion, and opinion brings on substance. In militar commanders and soldiers,

vainglory is an essential point; for as iron sharpens iron, so by glory, one courage sharp eneth another. In

cases of great enterprise upon charge and adventure, a composition of glorious natures, doth put life into

business; and those that are of solid and sober natures, have more of the ballast, than of the sail. In fame of

learning, the flight will be slow without some feathers of osten tation. Qui de contemnenda gloria libros

scri bunt, nomen, suum inscribunt. Socrates, Aristotle, Galen, were men full of ostentation. Certainly

vainglory helpeth to perpetuate a man's memory; and virtue was never so beholding to human na ture, as it

received his due at the second hand. Neither had the fame of Cicero, Seneca, Plinius Secundus, borne her age

so well, if it had not been joined with some vanity in themselves; like unto varnish, that makes ceilings not

only shine but last. But all this while, when I speak of vainglory, I mean not of that property, that Tacitus

doth at tribute to Mucianus; Omnium quae dixerat fece ratque arte quadam ostentator: for that proceeds not

of vanity, but of natural magnanimity and discretion; and in some persons, is not only comely, but gracious.

For excusations, cessions, modesty itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation. And amongst those arts,

there is none better than that which Plinius Secundus speaketh of, which is to be liberal of praise and

commendation to others, in that, wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For saith Pliny, very wittily, In

commending another, you do yourself right; for he that you commend, is either superior to you in that you

commend, or inferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended, you much more; if he be superior, if he be

not to be commended, you much less. Glorious men are the scorn of wise men, the ad miration of fools, the

THE winning of honor, is but the revealing of a man,s virtue and worth, without disadvan tage. For some in

their actions, do woo and effect honor and reputation, which sort of men, are commonly much talked of, but

inwardly little admired. And some, contrariwise, darken their virtue in the show of it; so as they be

undervalued in opinion. If a man perform that, which hath not been attempted before; or attempted and given

over; or hath been achieved, but not with so good circumstance; he shall purchase more honor, than by

effecting a matter of greater difficulty or virtue, wherein he is but a follower. If a man so temper his actions,

as in some one of them he doth content every faction, or combination of people, the music will be the fuller.

A man is an ill husband of bis honor, that entereth into any action, the failing wherein may disgrace him,

more than the carry ing of it through, can honor him. Honor that is gained and broken upon another, hath the

quick est reflection, like diamonds cut with facets. And therefore, let a man contend to excel any competi

tors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if he can, in their own bow. Discreet followers and servants, help

much to reputation. Omnis fama a domesticis emanat. Envy, which is the canker of honor, is best

extinguished by declaring a man's self in his ends, rather to seek merit than fame; and by attributing a man's

successes, rather to divine Providence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy.

The true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign honor, are these: In the first place are conditores

imperiorum, founders of states and common wealths; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Caesar, Ottoman,

Ismael. In the second place are legis latores, lawgivers; which are also called second founders, or perpetui

principes, because they gov ern by their ordinances after they are gone; such were Lycurgus, Solon,

Justinian, Eadgar, Alphon sus of Castile, the Wise, that made the Siete Parti das. In the third place are

liberatores, or salvatores, such as compound the long miseries of civil wars, or deliver their countries from

servitude of strangers or tyrants; as Augustus Caesar, Vespasi anus, Aurelianus, Theodoricus, King Henry

the Seventh of England, King Henry the Fourth of France. In the fourth place are propagatores or

propugnatores imperii; such as in honorable wars enlarge their territories, or make noble defence against

invaders. And in the last place are patres patriae; which reign justly, and make the times good wherein they

live. Both which last kinds need no examples, they are in such number. Degrees of honor, in subjects, are,

first participes curarum, those upon whom, princes do discharge the great est weight of their affairs; their

right hands, as we call them. The next are duces belli, great leaders in war; such as are princes' lieutenants,

and do them notable services in the wars. The third are gratiosi, favorites; such as exceed not this scant ling,

to be solace to the sovereign, and harmless to the people. And the fourth, negotiis pares; such as have great

places under princes, and execute their places, with sufficiency. There is an honor, like wise, which may be

ranked amongst the greatest, which happeneth rarely; that is, of such as sacri fice themselves to death or

JUDGES ought to remember, that their office is jus dicere, and not jus dare; to interpret law, and not to make

law, or give law. Else will it be like the authority, claimed by the Church of Rome, which under pretext of

exposition of Scripture, doth not stick to add and alter; and to pronounce that which they do not find; and by

show of an tiquity, to introduce novelty. Judges ought to be more learned, than witty, more reverend, than

plausible,and more advised, than confident. Above all things, integrity is their portion and proper virtue.

Cursed (saith the law) is he that removeth the landmark. The mislayer of a merestone is to blame. But it is

the unjust judge, that is the capital remover of landmarks, when he defineth amiss, of lands and property. One

foul sentence doth more hurt, than many foul examples. For these do but corrupt the stream, the other

corrupteth the foun tain. So with Solomon, Fons turbatus, et vena corrupta, est justus cadens in causa sua

coram adversario. The office of judges may have reference unto the parties that use, unto the advocates that

plead, unto the clerks and ministers of justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or state above them.

First, for the causes or parties that sue. There be (saith the Scripture) that turn judgment, into wormwood; and

surely there be also, that turn it into vinegar; for injustice maketh it bitter, and delays make it sour. The

principal duty of a judge, is to suppress force and fraud; whereof force is the more pernicious, when it is

open, and fraud, when it is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious suits, which ought to be spewed out,

as the surfeit of courts. A judge ought to prepare his way to a just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way,

by raising valleys and taking down hills: so when there appeareth on either side an high hand, vio lent

prosecution, cunning advantages taken, com bination, power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge

seen, to make inequality equal; that he may plant his judgment as upon an even ground. Qui fortiter emungit,

elicit sanguinem; and where the winepress is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, that tastes of the

grapestone. Judges must beware of hard constructions, and strained infer ences; for there is no worse

torture, than the tor ture of laws. Specially in case of laws penal, they ought to have care, that that which

was meant for terror, be not turned into rigor; and that they bring not upon the people, that shower whereof

the Scripture speaketh, Pluet super eos laqueos; for penal laws pressed, are a shower of snares upon the

people. Therefore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or if they be grown unfit for the present

time, be by wise judges confined in the execution: Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum, etc. In

causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the law permitteth) in justice to remem ber mercy; and to

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. Patience and gravity of hearing, is an essen tial part of

justice; and an overspeaking judge is no welltuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge, first to find that, which

he might have heard in due time from the bar; or to show quickness of conceit, in cutting off evidence or

counsel too short; or to prevent information by questions, though perti nent. The parts of a judge in hearing,

are four: to direct the evidence; to moderate length, repetition, or impertinency of speech; to recapitulate,

select, and collate the material points, of that which hath been said; and to give the rule or sentence. What

soever is above these is too much; and proceedeth either of glory, and willingness to speak, or of im

patience to hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a staid and equal attention. It is a strange thing to

see, that the boldness of advocates should prevail with judges; whereas they should imitate God, in whose

seat they sit; who represseth the pre sumptuous, and giveth grace to the modest. But it is more strange, that

judges should have noted favorites; which cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and suspicion of byways.

There is due from the judge to the advocate, some commendation and gracing, where causes are well handled

and fair pleaded; especially towards the side which obtaineth not; for that upholds in the client, the reputation

of his counsel, and beats down in him the conceit of his cause. There is likewise due to the public, a civil

reprehension of advocates, where there appeareth cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight information,

indiscreet pressing, or an over bold defence. And let not the counsel at the bar, chop with the judge, nor

wind himself into the handling of the cause anew, after the judge hath declared his sentence; but, on the other

side, let not the judge meet the cause half way, nor give occasion to the party, to say his counsel or proofs

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and minis ters. The place of justice is an hallowed place; and therefore

not only the bench, but the footplace; and precincts and purprise thereof, ought to be preserved without

scandal and corruption. For certainly grapes (as the Scripture saith) will not be gathered of thorns or thistles;

either can justice yield her fruit with sweetness, amongst the briars and brambles of catching and polling

clerks, and ministers. The attendance of courts, is subject to four bad instruments. First, certain persons that

are sowers of suits; which make the court swell, and the country pine. The second sort is of those, that engage

courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and are not truly amici curiae, but parasiti curiae, in puffing a court up

beyond her bounds, for their own scraps and advantage. The third sort, is of those that may be accounted the

left hands of courts; persons that are full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts, whereby they pervert the

plain and direct courses of courts, and bring justice into oblique lines and labyrinths. And the fourth, is the

poller and exacter of fees; which justifies the com mon resemblance of the courts of justice, to the bush

whereunto, while the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure to lose part of his fleece. On the other side,

an ancient clerk, skilful in prece dents, wary in proceeding, and understanding in the business of the court, is

an excellent finger of a court; and doth many times point the way to the judge himself.

Fourthly, for that which may concern the sov ereign and estate. Judges ought above all to re member the

conclusion of the Roman Twelve Tables; Salus populi suprema lex; and to know that laws, except they be in

order to that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well inspired. Therefore it is an happy thing in a

state, when kings and states do often consult with judges; and again, when judges do often consult with the

king and state: the one, when there is matter of law, intervenient in business of state; the other, when there is

some consideration of state, intervenient in matter of law. For many times the things de duced to judgment

may be meum and tuum, when the reason and consequence thereof may trench to point of estate: I call matter

of estate, not only the parts of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great alteration, or dangerous

precedent; or concerneth manifestly any great portion of peo ple. And let no man weakly conceive, that just

laws and true policy have any antipathy; for they are like the spirits and sinews, that one moves with the

other. Let judges also remember, that Solo mon's throne was supported by lions on both sides: let them be

lions, but yet lions under the throne; being circumspect that they do not check or oppose any points of

sovereignty. Let not judges also be ignorant of their own right, as to think there is not left to them, as a

principal part of their office, a wise use and application of laws. For they may remember, what the apostle

saith of a greater law than theirs; Nos scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime.

TO SEEK to extinguish anger utterly, is but a bravery of the Stoics. We have better oracles: Be angry, but sin

not. Let not the sun go down upon your anger. Anger must be limited and con fined, both in race and in

time. We will first speak how the natural inclination and habit to be angry, may be attempted and calmed.

Secondly, how the particular motions of anger may be repressed, or at least refrained from doing mischief.

For the first; there is no other way but to medi tate, and ruminate well upon the effects of anger, how it

troubles man's life. And the best time to do this, is to look back upon anger, when the fit is thoroughly over.

Seneca saith well, That anger is like ruin, which breaks itself upon that it falls. The Scripture exhorteth us to

possess our souls in patience. Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possession of his soul. Men must not

Anger is certainly a kind of baseness; as it ap pears well in the weakness of those subjects in whom it

reigns; children, women, old folks, sick folks. Only men must beware, that they carry their anger rather with

scorn, than with fear; so that they may seem rather to be above the injury, than below it; which is a thing

For the second point; the causes and motives of anger, are chiefly three. First, to be too sensible of hurt; for

no man is angry, that feels not himself hurt; and therefore tender and delicate persons must needs be oft

angry; they have so many things to trouble them, which more robust natures have little sense of. The next is,

the apprehension and construction of the injury offered, to be, in the cir cumstances thereof, full of

contempt: for contempt is that, which putteth an edge upon anger, as much or more than the hurt itself. And

therefore, when men are ingenious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they do kindle their anger

much. Lastly, opinion of the touch of a man's reputation, doth multiply and sharpen anger. Wherein the

remedy is, that a man should have, as Consalvo was wont to say, telam honoris crassiorem. But in all refrain

ings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time; and to make a man's self believe, that the oppor tunity of his

revenge is not yet come, but that he foresees a time for it; and so to still himself in the meantime, and reserve

To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man, there be two things, whereof you must have

special caution. The one, of extreme bit terness of words, especially if they be aculeate and proper; for

cummunia maledicta are nothing so much; and again, that in anger a man reveal no secrets; for that, makes

him not fit for society. The other, that you do not peremptorily break off, in any business, in a fit of anger; but

For raising and appeasing anger in another; it is done chiefly by choosing of times, when men are frowardest

and worst disposed, to incense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that you can find out, to

aggravate the con tempt. And the two remedies are by the contraries. The former to take good times, when

first to relate to a man an angry business; for the first impres sion is much; and the other is, to sever, as

much as may be, the construction of the injury from the point of contempt; imputing it to misunderstand ing,

SOLOMON saith, There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as Plato had an imagination, That all

knowledge was but remembrance; so Solomon giveth his sentence, That all novelty is but oblivion. Whereby

you may see, that the river of Lethe runneth as well above ground as below. There is an abstruse astrologer

that saith, If it were not for two things that are constant (the one is, that the fixed stars ever stand a like

distance one from another, and never come nearer together, nor go further asunder; the other, that the diurnal

motion perpetually keepeth time), no individual would last one moment. Certain it is, that the mat ter is in a

perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The great windingsheets, that bury all things in ob livion, are two;

deluges and earthquakes. As for conflagrations and great droughts, they do not merely dispeople and destroy.

Phaeton's car went but a day. And the three years' drought in the time of Elias, was but particular, and left

people alive. As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are often in the West Indies, they are but narrow.

But in the other two destructions, by deluge and earth quake, it is further to be noted, that the remnant of

people which hap to be reserved, are commonly ignorant and mountainous people, that can give no account

of the time past; so that the oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If you consider well of the people of

the West Indies, it is very probable that they are a newer or a younger peo ple, than the people of the Old

World. And it is much more likely, that the destruction that hath heretofore been there, was not by

earthquakes (as the Egyptian priest told Solon concerning the island of Atlantis, that it was swallowed by an

earthquake), but rather that it was desolated by a particular deluge. For earthquakes are seldom in those parts.

But on the other side, they have such pouring rivers, as the rivers of Asia and Africk and Europe, are but

brooks to them. Their Andes, like wise, or mountains, are far higher than those with us; whereby it seems,

that the remnants of gen eration of men, were in such a particular deluge saved. As for the observation that

Machiavel hath, that the jealousy of sects, doth much extinguish the memory of things; traducing Gregory the

Great, that he did what in him lay, to extinguish all heathen antiquities; I do not find that those zeals do any

great effects, nor last long; as it ap peared in the succession of Sabinian, who did revive the former

The vicissitude of mutations in the superior globe, are no fit matter for this present argument. It may be,

Plato's great year, if the world should last so long, would have some effect; not in renew ing the state of like

individuals (for that is the fume of those, that conceive the celestial bodies have more accurate influences

upon these things below, than indeed they have), but in gross. Comets, out of question, have likewise power

and effect, over the gross and mass of things; but they are rather gazed upon, and waited upon in their

journey, than wisely observed in their effects; specially in, their respective effects; that is, what kind of

comet, for magnitude, color, version of the beams, plac ing in the reign of heaven, or lasting, produceth

There is a toy which I have heard, and I would not have it given over, but waited upon a little. They say it is

observed in the Low Countries (I know not in what part) that every five and thirty years, the same kind and

suit of years and weath ers come about again; as great frosts, great wet, great droughts, warm winters,

summers with little heat, and the like; and they call it the Prime. It is a thing I do the rather mention, because,

But to leave these points of nature, and to come to men. The greatest vicissitude of things amongst men, is

the vicissitude of sects and religions. For those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true re ligion is built

upon the rock; the rest are tossed, upon the waves of time. To speak, therefore, of the causes of new sects;

and to give some counsel con cerning them, as far as the weakness of human judgment can give stay, to so

great revolutions. When the religion formerly received, is rent by discords; and when the holiness of the

professors of religion, is decayed and full of scandal; and withal the times be stupid, ignorant, and bar

barous; you may doubt the springing up of a new sect; if then also, there should arise any extrava gant and

strange spirit, to make himself author thereof. All which points held, when Mahomet published his law. If a

new sect have not two prop erties, fear it not; for it will not spread. The one is the supplanting, or the

opposing, of authority es tablished; for nothing is more popular than that. The other is the giving license to

pleasures, and a voluptuous life. For as for speculative heresies (such as were in ancient times the Arians, and

now the Armenians), though they work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do not produce any great al

terations in states; except it be by the help of civil occasions. There be three manner of plantations of new

sects. By the power of signs and miracles; by the eloquence, and wisdom, of speech and persua sion; and by

the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst miracles; because they seem to ex ceed the strength of

human nature: and I may do the like, of superlative and admirable holiness of life. Surely there is no better

way, to stop the rising of new sects and schisms, than to reform abuses; to compound the smaller differences;

to proceed mildly, and not with sanguinary persecutions; and rather to take off the principal authors by win

The changes and vicissitude in wars are many; but chiefly in three things; in the seats or stages of the war; in

the weapons; and in the manner of the conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to move from east to

west; for the Persians, Assyrians, Arabians, Tartars (which were the invaders) were all eastern people. It is

true, the Gauls were west ern; but we read but of two incursions of theirs: the one to GalloGrecia, the other

to Rome. But east and west have no certain points of heaven; and no more have the wars, either from the east

or west, any certainty of observation. But north and south are fixed; and it hath seldom or never been seen

that the far southern people have invaded the northern, but contrariwise. Whereby it is manifest that the

northern tract of the world, is in nature the more martial region: be it in respect of the stars of that

hemisphere; or of the great continents that are upon the north, whereas the south part, for aught that is known,

is almost all sea; or (which is most apparent) of the cold of the northern parts, which is that which, without

Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state and empire, you may be sure to have wars. For great

empires, while they stand, do enervate and destroy the forces of the natives which they have subdued, resting

upon their own protecting forces; and then when they fail also, all goes to ruin, and they become a prey. So

was it in the decay of the Roman empire; and likewise in the empire of Almaigne, after Charles the Great,

every bird tak ing a feather; and were not unlike to befall to Spain, if it should break. The great accessions

and unions of kingdoms, do likewise stir up wars; for when a state grows to an overpower, it is like a great

flood, that will be sure to overflow. As it hath been seen in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others.

Look when the world hath fewest bar barous peoples, but such as commonly will not marry or generate,

except they know means to live (as it is almost everywhere at this day, except Tar tary), there is no danger

of inundations of people; but when there be great shoals of people, which go on to populate, without

foreseeing means of life and sustentation, it is of necessity that once in an age or two, they discharge a

portion of their people upon other nations; which the ancient northern people were wont to do by lot; casting

lots what part should stay at home, and what should seek their fortunes. When a warlike state grows soft and

effeminate, they may be sure of a war. For com monly such states are grownm rich in the time of their

degenerating; and so the prey inviteth, and their decay in valor, encourageth a war.

As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule and observation: yet we see even they, have re turns and

vicissitudes. For certain it is, that ord nance was known in the city of the Oxidrakes in India; and was that,

which the Macedonians called thunder and lightning, and magic. And it is well known that the use of

ordnance, hath been in China above two thousand years. The conditions of weapons, and their improvement,

are; First, the fetching afar off; for that outruns the danger; as it is seen in ordnance and muskets. Secondly,

the strength of the percussion; wherein likewise ord nance do exceed all arietations and ancient inven

tions. The third is, the commodious use of them; as that they may serve in all weathers; that the car riage

For the conduct of the war: at the first, men rested extremely upon number: they did put the wars likewise

upon main force and valor; pointing days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon an even match and they

were more ignorant in ranging and arraying their battles. After, they grew to rest upon number rather

competent, than vast; they grew to advantages of place, cunning diversions, and the like: and they grew more

In the youth of a state, arms do flourish; in the middle age of a state, learning; and then both of them together

for a time; in the declining age of a state, mechanical arts and merchandize. Learning hath his infancy, when

it is but beginning and almost childish; then his youth, when it is luxuri ant and juvenile; then his strength of

years, when it is solid and reduced; and lastly, his old age, when it waxeth dry and exhaust. But it is not good

to look too long upon these turning wheels of vicissitude, lest we become giddy. As for the philology of

THE poets make Fame a monster. They de scribe her in part finely and elegantly, and in part gravely and

sententiously. They say, look how many feathers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath; so many

This is a flourish. There follow excellent par ables; as that, she gathereth strength in going; that she goeth

upon the ground, and yet hideth her head in the clouds; that in the daytime she sitteth in a watch tower, and

flieth most by night; that she mingleth things done, with things not done; and that she is a terror to great

cities. But that which passeth all the rest is: They do recount that the Earth, mother of the giants that made

war against Jupiter, and were by him destroyed, there upon in an anger brought forth Fame. For certain it is,

that rebels, figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels, are but brothers and sisters, mas culine and

feminine. But now, if a man can tame this monster, and bring her to feed at the hand, and govern her, and

with her fly other ravening fowl and kill them, it is somewhat worth. But we are infected with the style of the

poets. To speak now in a sad and serious manner: There is not, in all the politics, a place less handled and

more worthy to be handled, than this of fame. We will therefore speak of these points: What are false fames;

and what are true fames; and how they may be best discerned; how fames may be sown, and raised; how they

may be spread, and multi plied; and how they may be checked, and laid dead. And other things concerning

the nature of fame. Fame is of that force, as there is scarcely any great action, wherein it hath not a great part;

es pecially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius, by a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in pur pose

to remove the legions of Syria into Germany, and the legions of Germany into Syria; where upon the

legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed. Julius Caesar took Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his industry

and preparations, by a fame that he cunningly gave out: Caesar's own soldiers loved him not, and being

wearied with the wars, and laden with the spoils of Gaul, would forsake him, as soon as he came into Italy.

Livia settled all things for the succession of her son Tiberius, by continual giving out, that her husband

Augustus was upon recovery and amendment, and it is an usual thing with the pashas, to conceal the death of

the Great Turk from the janizaries and men of war, to save the sacking of Constantinople and other towns, as

their manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of Persia, post apace out of Grecia, by giving out, that the

Grecians had a purpose to break his bridge of ships, which he had made ath wart Hellespont. There be a

thousand such like examples; and the more they are, the less they need to be repeated; because a man meeteth

with them everywhere. Therefore let all wise governors have as great a watch and care over fames, as they

Abridgment: miniature Absurd: stupid, unpolished Abuse: cheat, deceive Aculeate: stinging Adamant:

loadstone Adust: scorched Advoutress: adulteress Affect: like, desire Antic: clown Appose: question

Arietation: batteringram Audit: revenue Avoidance: secret outlet Battle: battalion Bestow: settle in life

Blanch: flatter, evade Brave: boastful Bravery: boast, ostentation Broke: deal in brokerage Broken: shine by

comparison Broken music: part music Cabinet: secret Calendar: weather forecast Card: chart, map Care not

to: are reckless Cast: plan Cat: cate, cake Charge and adventure: cost and risk Check with: interfere Chop:

bandy words Civil: peaceful Close: secret, secretive Collect: infer Compound: compromise Consent:

agreement Curious: elaborate Custom: import duties Deceive: rob Derive: divert Difficileness: moroseness

Discover: reveal Donative: money gift Doubt: fear Equipollent: equally powerful Espial: spy Estate: state

Facility: of easy persuasion Fair: rather Fame: rumor Favor: feature Flashy: insipid Footpace: lobby

Foreseen: guarded against Froward: stubborn Futile: babbling Globe: complete body Glorious: showy,

boastful Humorous: capricious Hundred poll: hundredth head Impertinent: irrelevant Implicit: entangled

In a mean: in moderation In smother: suppressed Indifferent: impartial Intend: attend to Knap:knoll Leese:

lose Let: hinder Loose: shot Lot: spell Lurch: intercept Make: profit, get Manage: train Mate: conquer

Material: businesslike Merestone: boundary stone Muniting: fortifying Nerve: sinew Obnoxious:

subservient, liable Oes: round spangles Pair: impair Pardon: allowance Passable: mediocre Pineappletree:

pine Plantation: colony Platform: plan Plausible: praiseworthy Point device: excessively precise Politic:

politician Poll: extort Poser: examiner Practice: plotting Preoccupate: anticipate Prest: prepared Prick: plant

Proper: personal Prospective: stereoscope Proyne: prune Purprise: enclosure Push: pimple Quarrel: pretext

Quech: flinch Reason: principle Recamera: retiringroom Return: reaction Return: wing running back Rise:

dignity Round: straight Save: account for Scantling: measure Seel: blind Shrewd: mischievous Sort: associate

Spial: spy Staddle: sapling Steal: do secretly Stirp: family Stond: stop, stand Stoved: hothoused Style: title

Success: outcome Sumptuary law: law against extravagance Superior globe: the heavens Temper: proportion

Tendering: nursing Tract: line, trait Travel: travail, labor Treaties: treatises Trench to: touch Trivial: common

Turquet: Turkish dwarf Under foot: below value Unready: untrained Usury: interest Value: certify Virtuous: