thee that thou doest preferre before vs these priuate men?" Solon aunswered: "Sir shal I assure you of humaine things, knowing that God enuieth the state of men, and troubleth them so often: in length of time many thinges be seen, which men would not see, and many thinges be suffred, that men would not suffer. Let vs assigne to mans life the terme of LXX. yeres: in which yeares are the nomber of XXV.M.CC. dayes, in which computation the leape moneth, which is February, is not comprehended. But if you wil that other yeres be longer, by reason of that moneth, to th' end the howers may be adioyned to them, that want then the leape monethes, maketh the time to amount (aboue LXX. yeares) to XXV. monethes, and the dayes of those monethes amount to M.V.C. But admit that LXX. yeares with their leape monethes, be the total summe of man's life, then is producted the summe of XXV. M. CC. dayes. Truly one day is not like an other in effect, euen so Craesus I conclude, that man is ful of miserie. But althoughe your grace, seeming both in wealth, and also in multitude of men, to be a riche and mightie king, yet I cannot aunswere fullye your demaunde, before I see howe well you doe ende your life: for the rich man is not more happie, because he hath long life, except to his riches fortune graunt that he lead a good and honest life. Many men be very rich, and yet for all that be not blessed and happie: and manye that haue but meane wealth, be fortunate. He that is rich and wealthie, and therewithal not happie, excelleth him that is fortunate and happy onely in two thinges, but th'other surmounteth the riche man in many thinges. The two thinges wherein the rich excelleth th'other be these. Th'one in satisfying his lust and affection, th'other in power and abilitie, to susteine harde fortune and aduersitie; and as the meane man is inferiour to the rich in these two points, which by fortune be denied him, yet he doth excell him, because he neuer hath experience of them; he liueth in good and prosperous health, he neuer feeleth aduersitie, he doth nothing that is wicked, he is a father of good children, he is indued with formosity and beautie, who if (besides all those thinges) he die well, it is he to aunswere your demaunde that worthely may be called happie; for before he die he cannot be so called: and yet fortunate he may be termed. For to obtaine all (whiles you be a liuing man) it is impossible: for as one countrie is not able to serue it selfe with all commodities, but hauing one it lacketh an other: yet the same countrie that hath most commodities is the beste: and as a man's bodie hauing one perfection is not perfect, because in hauing one he lacketh another: euen so he that hath most vertue, and is indued with greatest nomber of the aforesaid commodities, and so quietly departeth his life, he in mine opinion is worthy to be intitled with the name of a king. A man must expect th'ende of euery thinge whereunto it tendeth: for God plucketh vppe by the rootes many men, to whom hee hath giuen abundaunce of wealth and treasure." Craesus misliking the woordes of Solon suffred him to depart saying: "He was a foole that measured present pleasures with no better regard." After whose departure, the gods began to bende their indignation and displeasure vpon him, because he thoughte himselfe the happiest man aliue. Long time after, Craesus receyuing courage and comfort from Apollo at Delphos, attempted warres against Cyrus kinge of Persia, who in those warres was ouerthrowen, and taken prisoner after he had raigned XIIII. yeares, and was broughte by the Persians to Cyrus. Then Cyrus caused a stacke of woode to be piled vp, and Craesus fettred with giues, was set vpon the same: who then remembring the saying of Solon, that no liuing man was blessed, or in all pointes happie, cried out in lamentable wyse, "O Solon! Solon! Solon!" which Cyrus hearing, caused his interpreters to demaund of him, what the same Solon was. Craesus with much difficultie toulde what he was, and declared all the talke betwene him and Solon. Wherof when Cyrus heard the report, he acknowledged himselfe to be also a man, and sore repented that he went about to burne him, which was equal vnto him in honour and riches, confessing nothing to be stable and certaine in the life of man. Wherupon he commaunded the fire to be taken awaye, which then began to flame. And so with much a doe, he was deliuered. Then Cyrus asked him, who gaue him counsaile to inuade his countrie, to make his frende his foe. "Euen my selfe (saide Craesus) through vnhappie fate, by the perswasion of the Greekish God which gaue me counsaile, to make warres vpon thee: for there is no man so madde, that had rather desire warre then peace. For in peace sonnes burie their fathers, but in warres, fathers burie their children. But that these thinges be come to passe, I maye thancke the deuil's good grace." Afterward Cyrus intertained him very honourablie, and vsed his counsell, which he found very holsome and good.



THE EIGHTH NOUELL.

Of a father that made suite, to haue his owne sonne put to death.

There was a man borne in Mardus (which is a Countrie adioyning vnto Persia) called Rhacon, that had seuen children. The yongest of them (named Cartomes,) afflicted diuers honest men with greate harmes and mischiefes. For which cause the father began to reforme him with words, to proue if he would amend. But he litle waying the good discipline of his father, it chaunced vpon a time that the Iustices of the countrie, repaired to the Sessions in that towne, where the father of the childe did dwell, Who taking his sonne, and binding his handes behinde him, brought him before the Iudges. To whom hee remembred by waye of accusation, all the mischiefes, which his sonne from time to time had committed, and desired the Iudges, that he might be condempned to die. The Iudges amazed with that request, would not themselues giue sentence against him, but brought both the father and the sonne, before Artaxerxes the king of Persia: in whose presence the father still persisted in the accusation of his sonne. "Why (quoth the king) canst thou finde in thy harte, that thine owne sonne should be put to death before thy face?" "Yea truly (quoth the father,) for at home in my garden, when the yong Lactuse begin to growe, I cutte of the bitter and sower stalkes from them: for pitie it were the mother Lactuse should sustaine sorow, for those bastard and degenerate shrubbes: which beinge taken awaye, she prospereth and encreaseth to great sweetenesse and bignes. Euen so (O kinge) if he be hanged that hurteth my whole familie, and offendeth the honest conuersation of his brethren, both my selfe shalbe increased, and the reste of my stocke and linage shall in like sort prosper and continue." The king hearing those words, did greatly praise the wisedom of Rhacon, and chose him to be one of his Iudges, pronouncing these wordes before the multitude. "Hee that dare thus seuerely and iustly pronounce sentence vpon his owne child, doubtles he wil shew himselfe to be an incorrupt and sincere Iudge vpon the offences of other." Then the kinge deliuered the yongman, from that presente faulte, threatninge him with most cruell death, if after that time, he were apprehended with like offence.



THE NINTH NOUELL.

Water offered of good will to Artaxerxes King of Persia, and the liberall rewarde of the Kinge to the giuer.

There was a certaine Persian called Sinetas, that farre from his owne house mette king Artaxerxes, and had not wherwith to present him. For it was an order amonges the Persians, instituted by law, that euery man which met the king, should giue him a present. Wherfore the poore man because he would not neglecte his dutie, ranne to a Riuer called Cyrus, and taking both his hands full of water, spake to the king in this wise. "I beseech God that your maiestie may euermore raigne amonges vs. As occasion of the place, and mine ability at this instant serueth, I am come to honour your maiesty, to the intent you may not passe without some present, for which cause I giue vnto you this water. But if your grace had ones encamped your selfe, I would go home to my house, for the best and dearest thinges I haue to honour your maiestie withall. And peraduenture the same shall not be much inferiour to the giftes, which other now do giue you." Artaxerxes delighted with this fact, sayde vnto him. "Goode fellowe I thancke thee for this presente, I assure thee, the same is so acceptable vnto me, as the most precious gift of the worlde. First, because water is the best of all thinges, then because the Riuer, out of the which thou diddest take it, doth beare the name Cyrus. Wherefore I commaunde thee to come before me when I am at my campe." In speakinge those wordes, he required his Eunuches to take the present, and to put it into a cuppe of gold. The king when he was lodged in his pauilion, sent to the man a Persian robe, a Cuppe of Golde, and a thousande Darices, (which was a coigne amonges the Persians, wherupon was the Image of Darius) willinge the messenger to saye vnto him, these wordes. "It hath pleased the king, that thou shouldest delighte thy selfe, and make mery with this gold, because thou diddest exhilarate his minde, in not suffering him to passe, without the honour of a present: but as necessitie did serue thee, diddest humblie salute him with water. His pleasure is also, that thou shalt drincke of that water in this Cuppe of gold, of which thou madest him partaker."

Artaxerxes hereby expressed the true Image of a princely minde, that would not disdaine cherefully to behold the homelie gifte (in our estimation rude, and nothing worth) at the handes of his poore subiect: and liberally to reward that duetifull zeale, with thinges of greate price and valour. To the same Artaxerxes, riding in progresse through Persia, was presented by one called Mises, a very great Pomegranate in a Siue. The king marueiling at the bignes therof, demaunded of him out of what garden he had gathered the same: he aunswered, out of his owne. Wherat the king greatlye reioysinge, recompenced him with princelye rewards, saying: "By the Sunne (for that was the common oth of the Persian kinges) this man is able with such trauaile and diligence in my iudgement to make of a litle citie, one that shal be large and great." Which wordes seeme to declare, that all thinges by care, sufficiente paine and continual labour, may against nature, be made more excellent and better.



THE TENTH NOUELL.

The loue of Chariton and Menalippus.

Nowe will I rehearse a fact of the tyrant Phalaris farre discrepante from his conditions, because it sauoureth of great kindnes and humanitye, and seemeth not to be done by him. Chariton was an Agrigentine borne, which is a towne in Sicilia, and a great louer of beauty, who with ardent affection loued one Menalippus, which was also borne in that Citie, of honest conditions and of excellente forme and comelines. This tyraunt Phalaris hindred Menalippus in a certaine sute: for he contending in iudgement with one of Phalaris frendes, the tyraunt commaunded him to giue ouer his suite: whervnto, because he was not obedient, he threatned to put him to death, except he would yelde. Notwithstanding, Menalippus ouer came him in law, and the noble men which were the frends of Phalaris, would giue no sentence, but brought the matter to a Nonesuite; which the yong man takinge in ill part, said he had receiued wrong, and confessed to his frend Chariton the wrong he had sustained, requiring his ayde to be reuenged upon the tyrant. He made other yonge men priuie to his conspiracie, such as he knewe woulde be ready and apte for that enterprise. Chariton perceyuinge the rage and furie of his frende, knowinge that no man would take his parte for feare of the tyraunt, began to disswade him, sayinge, that he himselfe went aboute the like attempte, a litle before, to deliuer his country into libertie from present seruitude, but he was not able to sort the same to any effect, without great daunger: wherefore he praied hym to commit the consideration thereof vnto him, and to suffer him to espie a time apt and conuenient. Menalippus was content: Chariton reuoluing with himselfe that deuise, woulde not make his deare frend a partaker of the fact least it shoulde be perceiued, but he alone took vppon him to do the deede, that onely himselfe might sustaine the smart; wherefore taking a sword in his hande, as he was seeking way to giue the assault vpon the tyraunt, his enterprise was disclosed, and Chariton apprehended by the Guarde, which for the tyrauntes defence, diligently attended about him. From thence he was sent to the Jaole, and examined vpon interrogatories to bewraye the rest of the conspiratours; for which hee suffered the racke, and the violence of other tormentes. Afterwardes, Menalippus remembring the constancie of his frende, and the crueltye by him stoutly suffered, went to Phalaris and confessed vnto him that not onely he was priuy to that treason, but also was the aucthour thereof. Phalaris demaundinge for what cause he did it, tolde him the consideration before rehearsed, which was the reuokinge of sentence, and other iniuries done vnto him. The tyraunt maruaylinge at the constant frendshippe of those twaine, acquited them both, but vppon condition that both shoulde depart oute of the citie and countrie of Sicilia. Neuerthelesse, he gaue them leaue to receiue the fruites and commodities of their reuenues. In record and remembrance of whose amitie, Apollo sang these Verses.

The raysers vp of heauenly loue, amonges the humaine kinde: Were good Chariton and Menalippe, whose like vnneths we finde.

This Phalaris was a most cruell tyraunte of the citie of Agrigentine in Scicilia, who besides other instrumentes of new deuised tormentes, had a Bull made of Brasse, by the art and inuention of one Perillus: into which Bull, all such as were condemned to death were put, and by reason of extreame heate of fire made vnder the same, those that were executed, yelled foorth terrible soundes and noyses, like to the lowing of a Bull. For which ingine and deuise, Perillus thinking to obtaine great reward, was for his labour, by commaundement of the tyraunt, throwen into the Bull, being the first that shewed the proofe of his deuise. Within a while after, also Phalaris himselfe, for his great crueltie, was by a general assault, made vpon him by the people, haled into the same Bull and burned: and althoughe this tyraunte farre excelled in beastlye crueltie, yet there appeared some sparke of humanitie in him, by his mercye extended vpon Chariton and Menalippus, the two true louers before remembred. The same Phalaris wrote many proper and short Epistles, full of vertuous instructions, and holsome admonitions.



THE ELEUENTH NOUELL.

Kinge Cyrus perswaded by Araspas, to dispose himselfe to loue a ladie called Panthea, entreth into a pretie disputation and talke of loue and beautie. Afterwards Araspas himselfe falleth in loue with the saide ladie, but she indued with greate chastitie, auoydeth his earnest sute. And when shee heard tell that her husbande was slaine in the seruice of Cyrus, she killed herselfe.

Before the beginning of this Historie, I thought good by way of Proeme, to introduce the wordes of an excellente writer called Lodouicus Caelius Rhodoginus, who saith that S. Hierome the most holy and eloquent father, affirmeth that vertues are not to be pondered by the sexe or kinde, by whom they be done, but by the chaste and honest minde; wherewith if euer any woman was affected, truly it was the fayre Ladie Panthea: for which I would no man should blame me of vngodlines, or indiscretion, in that I do remember a woman mentioned in profane authours, because at this present I am not minded to make vewe of Christe his secretes which are his deuine Scriptures, wherein be contayned the Ghostly liues of sacred dames, wherein also aboundantly doth shine and glitter, the celestiall mercie of our heauenly Father. But let the Reader remember that we be now conuersant in the auncient monuments of other profane aucthours, and out of them do select most pleasant places to recreat ech weary minde. This Panthea therfore as Xenophon writeth, and partly as S. Hierome reporteth, was the wyfe of Abradatas a noble personage, and in warlicke factes very skilfull, dearely beloued of Cyrus king of Persia, with whom this Lady Panthea was captiue, at the ouerthrow of the Assyrians. King Cyrus then after his enemyes were vanquished, hearinge tell of this gentlewoman, called vnto him one of his dearest frends named Araspas which was a Median borne, the very minion, playe felow, and companion of Cyrus from his youth: to whom for the great loue that he bare him, he gaue the Median robe of from his owne backe at his departure from Astiages into Persia. To this gentleman, king Cyrus committed the custodie of the ladie, and of her tente. Abradatas her husbande (when she was taken prisoner) was before sente in ambassage to the king of Bactria by the Assirian king, to intreate of peace, because he was his familiar frend. When Araspas had receiued the keeping of the ladie: he asked Cyrus whether he had seen her, "No truly" said Cyrus. "Then haue I (saide Araspas): and haue chosen her specially for your owne person. And when we came into her pauilion, none of us could tell which was she, for she set vppon the grounde, with all her women about her, and her apparell was like vnto her maides. But we desirous to know which was the maistres, beheld them all, and by and by shee seemed to excell them all, although she satte with her face couered, loking downe vpon the grounde: and when we bad her to rise vp, all the rest rose up also. She did farre surmounte her maides, as well in making and lineamentes of body, as in good behauiour and comelinesse, although she was clad in simple apparell: the teares manifestly ranne downe her eyes vppon her garments, distilling downe euen to her feete; to whom he that was most auncient amonges vs said: 'Be of good chere lady: we heare tell that you haue a very valiaunte man to your husbande, such one whose practize and experience is well knowen and tryed amongs greatest princes, notwithstanding we haue chosen for you a gentleman, that is not inferiour to him, either in beautie, force, wisedome or valiaunce. And we do verely beleeue, that if there be any man in this world, worthie of admiration, it is Cyrus our Prince and Lorde, whose paragon wee haue chosen you to bee.' When the Lady hearde them saye so, she tare the attirement from her head and body, she cried out, and all her maides skriched with her. At which times the greatest part of her face appeared, and so did her necke and handes: And assure your selfe (Cyrus) to vs that viewed her well, it seemed impossible, that such a creature coulde be borne of mortall parentes in Asia. Therefore sir, looke vppon her in any wise." To whom Cyrus said, "The more praise ye giue her, the lesse minde I haue to see her, if shee be such one as you haue saide." "And whye so?" (quoth Araspas). "Because (sayde Cyrus) if I should go to see her, hearing you make this reporte of her beautie (leasure not seruinge me thereunto) I am afraide, lest she would sone alure me to go many times to behold her. Whereby I might perchaunce, grow negligent in my matters of greatest importance." The yong gentleman smiling, said, "Thincke you Cyrus, that the beauty of a woman, can force a man vnwilling, to attempt a thinge that should not be meete for him. If nature haue that force in her, she would compell all men alike. Do you not see, that fire burneth all men after one sort, because it is his nature? Beautifull thinges be not had in equall estimation, some be of great price, some not so, some do regarde this, some that. For loue is a voluntarie thing, and euery man loueth what he list. The brother is not in loue with the sister, but of another she is loued. The father is not in loue with the doughter, and yet she is beloued of another. For feare and law are able enough to restraine loue. But if there were a law made to commaund men, that they which did not eate, should not be hungrie, and they that did not drinke, should not be a thirst, and that no man should be cold in Winter, and hotte in Sommer, that lawe coulde not compell men to obeye: for men by nature be subiect to those infirmities. But to loue, is a thinge free and voluntarie. Euery man loueth thinges that be his owne, as his apparell and other his necessaries." Wherunto Cyrus replied: "If loue be voluntary: how can it be that a man may abandon the same, when he liste? But I haue seene men weepe for sorowe of loue: I haue knowen them that haue beene slaues to loue, who before they haue loued, haue thoughte thraldome, the greatest euill: geuing awaye manye thinges, which had beene better for them to haue kept: and haue prayed to God to be exonerated of loue, aboue all other diseases, and yet coulde not be deliuered, being bound with stronger imprisonment then if they had beene tied with chaines, yelding themselues to their louers, seruing them with all obedience. And when they be hampered with such mischiefes, they seeke not to auoide them." "They do so in deede as you saye (aunswered the yong man:) And therefore such louers be miserable, wishing still to die and yet still continue in their woe and calamitie: And where there be a thousande wayes to bereue them of life, yet they do not die. Some of them fall to stealing and robbing of other men. But when they haue robbed and stolen anye thing thou with the first thinkinge theft vnnecessary, doest condemne them as theeues, whom thou dost not pardon, but punish. In like maner the beautifull doe not councell men to loue them, or couet that is not lawful: But miserable men shewing themselues inferiour to all lustes and desires, doe in the ende accuse Loue to be the authour of their miserie. Good and honest men, althoughe they desire golde, beautifull horses and faire women, yet they can well ynoughe abstaine from them all, as not subiect to them more then is meete: For I my selfe haue beholden this woman, which seemeth to be a surpassing faire wight: and yet I am now with you, I ryde and do other thinges accordinge to my dutie." "Peraduenture (said Cyrus) you went soner awaye, then loue coulde haue time to fasten vppon you: For fire touchinge a man, doth not straite burne him: And woode is not by and by in flame, yet would I not willingly touch fire, nor behold beautiful persons: and I would giue you counsaile Araspas, to beware how you suffer your eyes to rolle, and wander vpon faire women: for the fire burneth them, that touch it: and beautifull folke, do kindle them, that behold them a farre of, in such wise as they burne for loue." "I warrant you Cyrus (sayd Araspas:) for if I do continually loke vpon them, I wil not so be drowned in loue, as the same shall prouoke me to do any thing that doth not become mee." "You saye well, sayd Cyrus, Therfore keepe this woman as I bid you, and loke wel vnto her: For peraduenture she is taken in good time." And so they departed: The yong gentleman marking the singuler beautie of the Lady, and perceyuing her great honesty, he hauing custodie of her, thoughte he woulde do her pleasure, and by gesture sawe that she was not ingrate and vnthanckfull, but very diligent: She caused her seruauntes to prepare all thinges in readines at his comming in: and if he were by chaunce sicke, shee toke order that he shoulde lacke nothinge: vpon which occasions, he fell in loue with her: and no maruaile, for she was (as before is saide) a woman very fayre and amiable. Afterwards king Cyrus desirous to send a spie into the countrie of Lydia, to learne what the Assyrians did: Araspas which had the keepinge of the fayre Lady, seemed most mete for that purpose. But Araspas chaunced to fall in loue with the Ladie, in suche wise as he was forced to breake his minde vnto her, for the satisfying of his pleasure: which request, like a faithfull and louing woman to her absent husband, she denyed. Howbeit she would not accuse Araspas to Cyrus, being a fraide to set variaunce betweene frendes. Araspas thinkinge it a great shame and reproche vnto him, not to obtaine his desire: threatened the Lady, that if she would not yeld to his request, he would haue it perforce. Then the woman fearing violence, kepte the thing no longer secrete, but sente one of her Eunuches to Cyrus, to discouer the whole matter: which when he heard, he laughed hartely at Araspas, that sayde and made his vaunte that he was superiour to loue, sending Artabasus with the Eunuch, to commaund him not to force the woman: but if he could by fayre meanes allure her, he would not be against him. When Artabasus came to Araspas, he rebuked him, both for his infidelity in the thinge committed vnto his charge, and also for his wickednesse, iniurie, and incontinencie. Wherwithall Araspas wepte for sorowe, beinge oppressed wyth shame, and confounded with feare, for the displeasure of Cyrus: whiche thing Cyrus vnderstanding, called him, and priuely sayd thus vnto him. "I see Araspas that you be afraied of me, and much ashamed: but be contente, for I knowe that the goddes haue bene vanquished with loue, and haue learned what thinges the wisest men haue suffered for loue: and I haue accused my selfe, bicause I could not conteine, being in companie with faire personages: and of this mishappe happened to you, I my selfe am the occasion, for I compelled you to that inuincible matter." Araspas making aunswere sayd: "You be in this thing, O Cyrus, euen like vnto your selfe, as you be in all other: you be mercifull, and full of clemencie: but the brute that shall rise hereof is, that whiche maketh me moste pensife, for so sone as the rumour of my calamitie is dispersed, mine enemies will reioyce, and my frendes will counsaill me to flee, lest youre maiestie do hainously take reuenge of mine offence." "Well Araspas, said Cyrus, by that opinion and brute, you shall do me greatest seruice, and profite very muche my confederates." "How can that be (said Araspas)? where in for that respect shall I be able to doe you any seruice?" "If presently (quoth Cyrus) you do make as though you fledde from me, and by going to myne enemies, you maye wynne of them great credite." "Verely (sayd Araspas) I suppose that I and my frendes, might raise a rumour indeede, that I am fled from you for feare." "So may you (sayd Cyrus) returne vnto vs againe, when you knowe our enemies secretes; for I thinke they will make you priuie to all their counsell and deuises: and you being in credit, shall be made priuie to all their appointementes whiche wee desire to knowe." "I will euen nowe depart (sayd Araspas) for it is very likely, that this my departure, may seme to be an argument of trouth, bicause I seme to flie for feare of punishement." "Can you in that maner forsake faire Panthea" (quoth Cyrus). "Truely (said he) it euidently nowe appeareth, that I am endewed with two mindes: with the one I haue plaied the philosopher, with loue that vntrue Sophistre: for ther is no one minde which is good and badde, and at one time is rapt with the loue of good and euil thinges, ne yet at one instant can wil and will not together. Wherefore it is manifest, that ther be two mindes; when the good minde ruleth, it doth things that be honest, when the euill is superiour, it worketh ill: and now the good minde, by making you his frende and confederate, doth puissantly gouerne." "Well (sayde Cyrus) if you goe, you must beware, that your credite may increase amonges them: tell them hardly the somme of our indeuours, but in suche wise as our doinges may bee lettes to their practises. And this shall hinder their deuises muche, if you saie that we determine to inuade their countrie: for hearing this, they will not assemble their whole power, euery man fearing his priuate part: and see that you tary with them a good space, and looke which partes they meane sonest to approche, the same be moste conuenient for vs to knowe: and bid them to be ready, whensoeuer they thinke time: for when you shall depart from them, although they know you to be priuie to their order, yet they must needes kepe the same, and be afrayd to alter it, lest they confounde them selues through their sodaine chaunge." Thus Araspas departing, telling his moste trustie seruauntes what hee would have done in this matter, went his waye: but Panthea hearing that Araspas was gone, sent to Cyrus this message conteining these woordes.

"Bee not sorie Cyrus, for the departure of Araspas to your enemies, for if you wyll suffer mee to sende for my husbande, I doe promyse you, that he shalbe a farre more assured frende then Araspas was. And I knowe he wyll come with so great power (for your ayde) as hee is able to make, for the father of the Assirian kyng, whiche nowe raigneth, was his frende. But this kyng vppon a tyme, went about to make a diuorcement, betweene my husbande and mee: therefore, knowyng that this kyng, doth disdayne my husbandes good fortune, by hauing mee to wife, I am sure hee woulde sone be perswaded to serue so noble a Prince as you be." Cyrus hearing her saye so, commaunded her to sende for her husbande, which she did. Abradatas knowing his wiues tokens, and vnderstanding the effecte of her message, spedely came to Cyrus with two thousand horsemen. They that were the Persian spies, sent to Cyrus, declaring what he was. Cyrus commaunded that forthwith he should be brought vnto his wife. When the wife and husbande sawe eche other, they imbraced like twoo that mette after suche troublesome aduentures. Then Panthea tolde her husbande the goodnes, temperance, and clemencie of Cyrus towarde her. Who hearing of her interteignement, sayde: "What shall I doe Panthea, to render thankes to Cyrus, for you and mee?" "What other thing (saide Panthea) but to indeuour your selfe, to bee suche a trustie frende to him, as he hath bene to you." Then Abradatas went to Cyrus, and when he sawe hym, he tooke him by the right hande and sayde: "For the pleasures that you haue done mee, O Cyrus, I haue no more to saye, but that I assure my selfe vnto you, as your frende, your seruaunt and confederate: and what soeuer I see you desyre, I shall imploye my selfe, to the vttermoste of my power, to ayde and helpe you in the same." To whome Cyrus sayde, "I accepte you, and for this tyme dismisse you, to goe and suppe with your wife: then you shall agayne be placed in my Tente about me amonges your frendes and myne." And when Abradatas sawe the preparation of Cyrus, that hee made against his enemies, he addressed to make prouision of armure, and thinges meete for the fielde for hym selfe. His wyfe Panthea, had made of her treasure, a curate and helmet of golde, and likewyse his vambraces, and had furnished the horses of the chariot with brasen barbes.

When Cyrus had spoken diuerse oracions, for the incoraging of his armie, and had taken order, howe all thinges might prosperously succede, diuided his captaines into seuerall battailes, appointing euery of them their charge: Abradatas shewed him selfe verie braue, and marciall in his Chariot: who being about to put on a linnen breast plate, according to his countrie maner, his wife Panthea brought him an armure of golde, and a purple gowne down to his feete, after robe fashion, and a crimsen skarfe. These thinges had she priuely wrought for her husbande, knowing the measure of his harnesse, whiche when her husband sawe, he marueiled, and said to Panthea. "Wife, haue you not defaced your jewels, to make this armure?" "Truelye (said Panthea) I haue a more precious jewell then this; for if you proue a valiant gentleman to other, as you haue done a louing and trustie husband to me, you are my dearest jewell." In saying thus, she armed him, and would that no man should haue sene her: for the teares trickled downe her chekes. Abradatas being in the fronte of the armie, armed after this maner, appered a gallant and braue captayne, whose nature and complexion agreed to his comelinesse. And taking the raines of the chariot in his hands, he prepared him selfe to mounte vp. Then Panthea, all other being commaunded to stande backe, saide: "Truely Abradatas, if there be women, that esteme their husbandes better then their owne liues, I thinke you knowe that I am one of them. Therefore what neede I to expresse euery particular thing: my factes, as I thinke, do perswade you more then woordes. And thus indeuouring my selfe towardes you, our mutuall loue is such, as I had rather be buried quicke with you, being a noble man, then to liue in shame. I regarde you with the beste, and my selfe not as the worste. Great thankes we owe to Cyrus, for his Princely interteignement of me, being a captiue and chosen for him selfe, not like a prysoner with shame, but free, without spot or blemishe to mine honor: and vsed me, as though I had bene his brothers wyfe. And after Araspas departed from him, whiche had the custodie of me, I promised him, that if hee would giue mee leue to sende for you, that you should become more loiall and assured to him, then euer Araspas was." Abradatas delited with her chaste communication, and tenderly laying his hand vpon her head: looking vp to heauen, made this praier. "O most mightie Iuppiter, graunte that I may shewe my selfe an housbande meete for Panthea, and a frende worthy of Cyrus, who hath so curteously dealt with vs." Thus speaking at the entrie of the chariot seate, he went vp, and being set downe, the gouernour of the chariot made fast the seate. Panthea hauing nowe nothing to embrace, kissed the chariot seate, and so he went forth. But Panthea followed him priuelie, till he tourned and spied her, to whome he sayde: "Be of good conforte Panthea, Adieu and farewell." Then her Eunuches and women, conueighed her to her own chariot, couering the same with curteines.

Cyrus after the battaile and victorie, had against Craesus, called diuerse of his men vnto him, and demaunded if they sawe Abradatas. "For I marueile (sayde hee) that he commeth not vnto me: for before the battell many times he appered in my presence." Whereunto one of his men answered: "The cause is (sir) that he is not aliue, for hee was slayne in the battaile, as he inuaded the AEgiptians. The rest of his companie, except his owne souldiours, fled from him, when they sawe him incountre with the AEgiptian battaile. And then his wife Panthea tooke him vp, and laid him in her owne wagon; conueighing him to a certayne place, by the ryuer Pactolus. And (they say) that her Eunuches doe digge a graue to burie him. His wife sitteth vpon the ground, apparelled with those furnitures that he did weare, leaning her head vpon her knees." With whiche wordes, Cyrus was driuen into greate sorowe, clapping him selfe vppon the thighe, and by and by mounted on his horse, and taking with him M. horsemen, he went to mourne for his frende Abradatas. Moreouer he commaunded Gadatas and Gobryas, to carrie the fairest apparell they coulde get, to his good and honest frende that was dead, and to assemble his oxen and horse, and all his beastes and cattell, whersoeuer they were, that they might be sacrificed to Abradatas. But when he sawe Panthea sitting vpon the ground and the dead corps lying by her, he wept for sorowe, and said: "Alake good woman, thou trustie and faithfull wife, doest thou thus depart and leaue vs alone." And with those words he tooke her by the right hand, and therewithall was presented the dead hand of Abradatas, which the AEgiptians in the battaile had cut of: whiche when Cyrus sawe, hee then lamented more then he did before: and Panthea cried out. Who comforted by Cyrus, kissed the dead hand, bestowing the same againe in place, so well as she coulde, and sayde: "Thus it is chaunced Cyrus, but why do you beholde the dead body? This death I knowe (quoth she) hee hath suffred for my sake, being none of the lest aduentures whiche he hath hazarded for me. And perchaunce Cyrus, he would haue done no lesse for you. For I exhorted him (like a foole as I was) to attempte this aduenture, to thintent he might haue shewed him selfe a frende of worthy remembraunce; whiche request he accepted, to pleasure you and me: he hath valiantly bestowed his life and is dead, and I vnhappy caitife that gaue him first counsayle, do sitte here aliue." Cyrus for a certayn space holding his peace, powred forth aboundance of teares, and then said: "This gentleman (lady Panthea) hath a commendable ende, for he died in victorie; but take these furnitures, and adorne him there withall:" for Gobryas and Gadatas were come with riche and costly apparel. Then hee sayde: "Bee sure he shalbe honoured with greater thinges then these. A monument also, according to his worthinesse, shalbe erected vpon his graue. Sacrifice shalbe offered, meete for a man so valiant and puissaunt. Thou likewyse shalt not be left comfortles; for in consideration of thy great chastitie and vertue, I will honour thee and appointe a garrison to conuey thee into what place thou arte disposed to goe." To whom Panthea sayd: "Be of good chere Cyrus, I wyll not hide from you the place, wherein I am determined to bestowe my selfe." Cyrus hearing her say so, went away pitying the woman that was bereued of suche a husbande, and lamenting the man that had lefte suche a wife behinde him, and was like no more to see her againe. But Panthea commaunded her Eunuches to go out of the place, till she had satisfied her selfe with teares, and lamentations for her husbande: for she prepared to kil her selfe, requiring her nursse to tarie by her, and commaunded her, that when she was dead, she should shroude her and her husbande in one garment. The nursse perswaded the Ladie, with humble wordes and supplications, from her determined death, but she could not preuaile: and when she sawe that her maistres tooke her woordes in ill parte, she satte downe and wepte. But Panthea with a sworde, whiche she had prepared long time for that purpose, killed her selfe, and laying her head vpon her husbandes breaste, she yelded from her chaste bodie, her innocent ghost. The Nursse seing that, cried out, and couered them both, as she was commaunded. Cyrus vnderstanding the woman's facte, was amazed, and spedely went to see if she might be holpen. The Eunuches (being three in nomber) seing their maistres dead, they likewyse drewe out their swordes, and killed theimselues in the place, where they were commaunded to stande. In memorie of which facte, Cyrus erected a noble monument to the perpetuall prayse of chastitie and honest loue. Which (as Xenophon reporteth) remained to his daies, with their names ingrauen in Syrian letters.



THE TWELFTH NOUELL.

Abdolominus is from poore estate, aduaunced by Alexander the Great, through his honest life, to be kyng of Sydone.

Alexander the mightie and noble Emperour, after he had subdued Darius the Persian kyng: at length came to Sydone, a famous citie, by reason of the auncient fame of the first founders. The same citie was vnder the gouernement of Strato, and mainteined by the puissaunce of Darius, who yelding more by force of the people, then by free wil, was thought vnworthy to raigne and rule there. Alexander at the request of his frende Ephestion, willed him to appointe one to be king, whom the citizens should thinke moste worthy of that state. After profers of Ephestion to diuers of the yonge gentlemen of that citie, and refusall made of their partes, they alledged that none ought to enioy the dignitie of their king, but such as were descended of the royall bloud. Thinking none to be more meete for that state then one Abdolominus, who being of the royall race, for pouertie was inforced to inhabite a litle cotage without the citie. His good life was the cause of his pouertie, as it is to many other: and labouring in his daily trauell, vnderstoode not the brute of the warre that troubled all Asia. Ephestion and the yonge gentlemen repaired vnto him with garmentes to garnishe him like a king, and founde him making cleane his garden, whome they saluted, and saide: "You must exchaunge your homelie clothes with these riche robes, wherewith wee here present you. Washe your bodie that nowe is foule and vncleane, take vppon you the courage of a kyng, and in this state (wherof you be worthy) expresse the same sobrietie and continencie you doe presently vse. And when you sitte in your regall seate, vsing the authoritie of life and death ouer your subiectes, do in no wise forget the fortune, wherin you were before you were made king, ne yet for what purpose you did receiue it.{"} The matter semed to Abdolominus like a dreame, and demaunded of theim, if their wittes were sounde, that did deride him in that sorte. But when he sawe them bynde by othe their doynges to bee of trouthe, he washed him self, and taking the garment, which was purple and golde, went with them into the place. The fame was diuersly bruted of this facte: some fauoured the cause, and some did froune against it. But suche as were riche, did reproue his pouertie and base estate, to those that were neare aboute Alexander, which made the kynge to sende for him. And when he had long beholden his manner and order sayd: "Your personage doth not degenerate from the fame of your progenitors, but I would fayne knowe, howe pacient you were in the tyme of your pouertie." "I would to God (quoth Abdolominus) I could beare my prosperitie in lyke case now I am kyng. These handes did get that I desired. And hauing nothing, I lacked nothing." Whiche woordes made Alexander conceiue a good opinion of hym, to whome he restored the riches of the kyng before, and diuers other thinges, taken awaye by the Persians.



THE THIRTEENTH NOUELL.

The oration of the Scythian Ambassadours to Alexander the great, reprouing his ambicion, and desire of Empire.

Tvllie in the firste booke of his Offices, saieth, that very miserable, is ambicion and desire of honour: and that moste men, whiche be giuen to cupiditie of gouernement, honor and glorie, bee forgetfull of Iustice. The truthe of whiche graue wordes, vttred by a Prince of eloquence, the rude and barbarous Ambassadours of Scythia, in plaine and homelie talke, boldly did pronounce to king Alexander (surnamed Magnus) when hee was about to inuade their countrie. For when he had within three dayes finished twelue thousand boates, to transporte his armie ouer the famous ryuer of Tanais, (whiche deuideth Asia from Europa) against the poore Scythians, twenty Ambassadours of the Scythians came to Alexanders campe to speake with hym, to proue if they coulde by woordes withdrawe his entended purpose: Before whome when they were placed, the eldest of them spake these wordes.

"If the Goddes had giuen thee a bodie according to the immoderate desyre of thy mynde, the whole worlde coulde not be able to holde thee. With one of thy handes thou wouldest touche the Oriente, and with thy other hande the Occidente. And when thou haste gotten that, thou wylt desyre to knowe, where the brightnesse of the Diuine Maiestie is placed. Thus thou couetest after the thing, thou art not able to receyue. Out of Europa thou marchest into Asia, and out of Asia thou passest into Europa. Afterwardes, if thou doest vanquishe all mankynde, thou must make warre with woodes and Snowes, with Ryuers and wylde beastes. What? doest thou not knowe, that great trees growe long, and yet be rooted out of the grounde in a moment? He is a foole that looketh after the fruite, and doeth not measure the height of the tree wheron it groweth. Take hede lest whyle thou doest contende to clymme to the toppe, thou fallest downe with the bowes whiche thou doest imbrace. The lion also sometyme is made the foode of the smalest byrdes: and rust consumeth iron. There is nothing so firme, that is not in perill of the weake. What haue we to doe with thee? We neuer touched thy lande. What thou arte, and from whence thou commest, is it not lawefull for vs to bee ignoraunte, that liue in the waste wooddes? Wee can not be subiecte to any man, and wee desyre not to rule. Wee haue certaine giftes peculiar vnto vs, bicause thou shalt not be ignoraunte of the state of our nacion: the yoke of Oxen, the Plough, the Darte, and the Bowl: those things we vse, both with our frends and against our enemies. Vnto our frendes wee giue the fruictes, gotten with the labour of our Oxen. And with them in our Bowle, we sacrifice wine to the Goddes. Our enemies we strike with the Darte a farre of, and with the Speare nere at hande. After that sorte in tyme paste, wee ouercame the kyng of Scythia, and afterwardes the kyng of Media and Persia, and the waye was open vnto vs into AEgipt. But thou whiche doest boaste, that thou art come to persecute theues, art the common thefe of all nacions, whereunto thou makest thy repayre. The countrie of Lidia thou haste taken. Thou haste enioyed Syria. Thou doest possesse Persia, and the Bactrianes bee vnder thy power. Thou doest goe into India, and nowe thou extendest thy vnstable and gredie handes vppon our cattell. What neede haste thou of those ryches, whiche doe make thee so hungrie? Thou art the first of all men whiche with sacietie hast gotten famine, that the more thou hast, the more gredely thou couetest after thinges thou hast not. Doest thou not remember how long thou hast sticked about Bactria? And whiles thou goest about to bring them in subiection, the Sogdians begin to reuolte. Thus warre doth grow vnto thee of thy victorie. For be thou neuer so great, and puissant ouer other, yet there be none that can indure to be gouerned by straungers. Passe nowe Tanais, thou shalt perceiue what breadth it beareth, and yet thou shalt neuer ouertake the Scythians, whose pouertie is swifter then the armie, which carieth the spoyle of so many nacions. For when thou shalt thinke vs to be farre of, thou shalt see vs within thy campe, with like swiftnesse we folowe and flee awaye. I heare that our desertes and voide places, be mocked by the Greeke prouerbes, we couet rather those desertes and places vnhabited, then cities and plentifull soyles. Therefore holde fast thy fortune, for she is tickle and can not be holden against her will. Folow thou the counsaile that is good, specially whyles the time doth serue. Bridle thy felicitie, and thou shalt rule it the better. Our countriemen say, that Fortune is without feete, and that she hath onely handes and wynges, but when she stretcheth forth her hand, shee will not suffer her winges to be touched. Finally, if thou be a God thou oughtest to geue benefites to mortall men, and not to take away the commodities they haue already: but if thou bee a man, consider that thou art alway the same that thou arte. It is a foolishe part to remember those things, and to forget thy selfe. Those people that fele not thy warres, thou maiest use as thy frendes. For frendship is most firme and stable emonges equall, and those seeme to be equall that haue not vsed force and violence emonges them selues. Beware thou take them not for thy frendes whome thou doest subdue, and bring in obedience. There is no frendship betwene the maister and the seruaunt, and in peace the lawe of Armes is obserued. Beleue not that the Scythians doe bynde frendship with any othe: for they make their othe by obseruation of faith. The maner of the Greekes is to iustifie their factes, by inuocation of their Goddes to witnesse: but wee know, that Religion consisteth in faith her self. They which do not reuerence to men, do begile the Goddes. Thou hast no nede of him to be thy frende of whose frendship thou standest in doubt. Thou hast vs as kepers of Asia and Europa: for we should touche the countrie of Bactria, were it not for Tanais, whiche deuideth vs. And beyonde Tanais all is ours so farre as Thracia, and the fame is that Thracia bordreth vppon Macedonia: wee being neighbours, to bothe thy dominions, chose nowe whether thou wylte haue vs frendes or foes." These were the woordes of the Scythians. Howe be it these homelie and plaine aduertisementes, could not diuerte kyng Alexander from his intended enterpryse, and according to his desired successe, he ouercame them.



THE FOURTEENTH NOUELL.

The woordes of Metellus of mariage, and wiuing with the prayse and dispraise of the same.

In the presence of many learned men of Rome, Metellus surnamed Numidicus, for his victories and triumphe ouer Iugurtha king of Numidia, a countrie in Africa, in the tyme of his office of Censor, made an Oration before the Romain people, of mariage of wyues, vppon Occasion that hee hymselfe, by diuers of his frendes, was perswaded to that state. Against whiche hee used manye vehemente inuectiues and termes, whiche Aulus Gellius omitteth, for that hee was loth to offend (when report therof should be bruted) the nice eares, and louing mindes of the matrones, and dames of that citie: knowing well that both they, and their successours, would not forget reprochefullie to combate with his spirite and shadowe, when they were not able (being preuented by earthly vermine) by anye meanes to impeche his corps, in tombe fast closed and buried. But when I do remember, howe the same was said, and also noysed emongs a bande of heathen soules, whose mindes for want of godly skill, could not disgest such hainous blastes, as sounded in a time prophane, wherin no sacred voyce of christian lore was breathed vnto redemed flocke: I call to mynde that now I may in time of grace, right frankely write, without offence to humble state of matrone kinde, in these our daies, inspired with spirit of humble hart, whose eares no taunting talke can griue: wherefore with blushles face, and vnstaied penne, I meane the woordes, of that well learned wighte, in open audience to pronounce, and by this booke, to suche elected sort for to declame: but loth for to offende, as one well bet in mariage schole, I must, a p[oe]na & culpa, forgiuenes craue: lest some shreude heathen dame (for other doubt I not) doe from her graue Al' Arme crie out: and then to fight with buried ghostes: my manhode will not serue, but by and by with posting legges, and flying fast I will retire. But doubtes here be brought foorth, where doubting cause is none. Gellius therfore in persone of the vnmaried knight, in wordes right fewe, this sentence of the maried state, doth vtter and proclayme.

"O ye Romaines, if we could be without wiues, then all we should wante that griefe. But bicause nature hath so prouided, that neither with them we can liue and passe our time conueniently, nor yet by any meanes be without them satisfied, we ought rather to make preparation, for perpetuall health, then for short pleasure." With which wordes, diuers of the Romaines were displeased, and founde fault with Metellus who (for that he went about, to exhorte the people to mariage) ought not by any meanes, to confesse any griefes and incommodities to be in the same. But in these wordes he seemed rather to disswade and terrefie, then to perswade and incourage; but contrarely he ought, rather to haue affirmed no sorowes and perplexities, to be in wedlocke, and if perchaunce any chaunced to be, they were but light, and easie to be borne and suffered, which for greater commodities and pleasures, might full well be forgotten, and those that were, happed not through natures vice, but by the default and ill behauiour of some maried folke. Howbeit, Titus Castritius supposed that Metellus spake well and worthely. "For (said he) a Censor ought to speake like a Censor, a Rhetorician like one that professed Rhetorike: it is giuen to Rhetoricians, to vse false sentences, bolde, subtile and captious: if so be, they be likely, and may by any action moue the hartes of men." Moreouer he sayde, "that it was a shame for a Rhetorician, in an euil matter, to leaue out any thing vntouched." "But truely Metellus (quoth he) is a holy man indued with grauitie and fidelitie, and that it was not decent for so honorable a personage, as he was, to speake any thing to the Romaine people, but that hee thought to be true, and likely to seme true to all men: specially sithe he intreated of such a matter, as by daily knowledge, common experience, and frequented vse of life, might well be comprehended and knowen. Therfore in geuing to vnderstande, a griefe notorious to al men, he hath deserued by that oration, a fame of a diligent and faithfull man, bicause (to be short) he easely and redely perswaded, that a citie can not prosper and continue, without the vse of Matrimonie, which of all things is most assured and true." This Titus Castritius was a teacher of Rhetorike in Rome, and in the same citie for declamation and teaching, was in greatest reputacion: a man of right great grauitie and authoritie: and of the Emperour Adrian, for his vertue and learning well estemed.



THE FIFTEENTH NOUELL.

Of Lais and Demosthenes.

Phocion a peripatetique Philosopher, in a booke which he made, intituled Cornucopia, writeth this historie of Demosthenes and Lais the harlot of Corinthe, saying: that Lais by reason of her excellent beautie, and pleasaunt fauour, demaunded for the vse of her body, a great somme of money: vnto whom was resorte of all the ryche men of Graecia: but she woulde not admitte them to that facte, except they would first giue vnto her, her demaunde. The quantitie of whiche somme was exceading greate, whereof rose the prouerbe. Non cuiuis homini contingit, adire Corinthum.

Not euery man can well attaine To goe to Corinthe towne.

He that traueiled to Corinthe to Lais, not able to giue and bestowe, that somme vpon her went in vaine. To this woman that noble Philosopher Demosthenes secretly repayred, praying her to giue him leaue: but shee demaunding of him tenne thousand Denarios (amounting very nere to three hundred pounde of our money) astonied at the wantonnesse of the woman, and discouraged with the greatnesse of the somme, retourned backe again, saying: I come not to buye repentaunce so dere.



THE SIXTEENTH NOUELL.

C. Fabritius and AEmillius Consuls of Rome, beyng promised that king Pyrrhus for a somme of money should be slaine (which was a notable enemie to the Romaine state) aduertised Pyrrhus thereof by letters, and of other notable thinges doen by the same Fabritius.

When Pyrrhus king of Epirus inferred warres vpon the Romaynes and was come into Italie, and there had prosperously fought, and atchieued the victory of two or three battailes, wherby the Romanes were brought to great distresse and most part of Italie had reuolted: one Timochares Ambraciensis, a frend of king Pyrrhus, secretely repaired to C. Fabritius then Consul, and told him, if he would giue him a reward, he would poyson the kinge, which hee said, he mighte easely bringe to passe because his sonnes, at table waited vpon king Pyrrhus cuppe. Hereof Fabritius wrote to the Senate requiring their aduise. The Senate depeached Ambassadours to the king commaunding them to saye nothing of Timochares, but to giue the kinge warning circumspectly to loke wel about him, to preuent such treason, as by those that were nerest him might be attempted. Thus much is written in the historie of Valerius Antiates. But Quadrigarius in the third booke, writeth that it was one Nicias and not Timochares, that went to Fabritius, and that those Ambassadours were not sente by the Senate, but by the Consuls, and that the kinge rendred praise and thanckes to the Romaines, restoring to them, all the prisoners, which he had taken. The Consuls that time were C. Fabritius and AEmilius. The tenour of which letters then sent to king Pyrrhus, the said Cl. Quadrigarius affirmeth to be this. "The Romaine Consuls send salutations to king Pyrrhus. We for thine iniuries, displeasures and wronges iustlie offended, for the valiaunte stomackes remayninge in vs, do studie and indeuour like enemies, to continue warres vpon thee: but it seemeth good vnto vs for the loue we beare to our faith, and for common example, to wishe thee well to do, whom by armes we be not able to vanquishe. There came vnto vs one Nicias, thy familiar frende, to demaunde rewarde of vs, if secretely he did kill thee: whiche we vtterlye denied, and required him for that fact, to loke for no reward at our hands. Whereupon wee thought good to giue thee aduertisement hereof, lest if any such thing did chaunce, the cities should not thincke that we were priuie to the fact: for wee delite not to fight with giftes, rewards and treason.—Thou in the meane time, except thou take heede, art like to die: Farewel." This was the aunciente order amonges the Romaines, that neuer were pleased by the cowardly ouerthrow of other, to winne fame and glorye. And because I rede an other excellente historie of the same Fabritius, I haue thought good to adde the same to this Nouell. When peace was concluded, betwene the Romaines and the Samnites, the Ambassadours of the Samnites repaired vppon a time to this Fabritius, who after they had remembred vnto him diuers and sundrie thinges, frendlye done in their behalfe, they offered vnto him for reward, a great summe of money, intreating him to receiue the same: which the Samnites did (as the report was) because they sawe, that he wanted many thinges, for the furniture of his house and maintenaunce, thinking the same also not to be sufficiently decente for his estate and calling: which Fabritius perceyuing, with his bare handes, hee touched his eares and eyes, and then strooked his face downeward, his noase, his mouth and throate, and the rest of his bodie, to the bottome of his bealie, answearing the Ambassadours in this wise. "That whiles hee was able to rule and gouerne all those members which he touched, he was sure to lacke nothing: wherefore (quoth he) these members, which be profitable and necessarye for my vse, will not suffer mee to receiue this moneye, whereof they knowe I haue no neede." Hereby reprehending the foolish indeuour of these Samnites, in offring to him a bribe, which hee was neur accustomed to take for any cause, what soeuer he accomplished. Who stil shewed himselfe a man sincere and incorrupt.



THE SEUENTEENTH NOUELL.

A Scholemaister traiterously rendring the noble mens sonnes of Faleria to the hands of Camillus, was wel acquited and rewarded for his paines and labour.

Warres were addressed by the Romaines against the Falisques (a people of Italye, the ruines of the chiefe citie wherof do yet appeare sixe miles from Viterba) and an armye conscribed and sent thether, vnder the conduct of Furius Camillus. The Falisques vppon the approch of the Romaines, were constrayned to retire within their citie, thinking the same to be their most assured refuge. And they to continue their siege, incamped a mile from the citie, and determined throughly to besiege it, which in deede had like to haue beene of verye long continuance except fortune had giuen to the Romaine Captaine, for his tried and well approued valiaunce, victorie in time, which chaunced after this maner. It was a custome amonges the Falisques (obserued also in these oure dayes) to haue their children instructed by one Scholemaister, and him also to vse for their guide and companion in all games and pastimes. Amonges theym there was a Scholemaister, which taughte noble mennes sonnes, who in the time of peace, teachinge those children, and vsinge for theyr exercise to leade them abroade in the fieldes, kepte still that order, for all the warres before the gates, sometime wyth shorte walkes, sometime wyth longer for their disportes: and continuinge varietie of talke wyth his schollers longer then he was wont to do, at length he brought them to the Romaine campe, euen to the tent of Camillus, hoping thereby (by like) to haue beene well welcomed, and liberally rewarded: saying to Camillus, as detestable woords as the facte was traiterous and wicked: which was in effect—"That he was come with that present vnto him, to yelde those children into his hands whose parents were the principall of that Citie: and therby knew for certainty that the citie would surrender." Camillus seeing that fact, and hearing those words, said vnto him. "Thou arte not come (villane) to a people and Captaine, with this thy trayterous offer, semblable to thy selfe. We haue no aliaunce with the Falisques confirmed by compacte or humaine promise, but amitie wherunto nature doth bind vs, is and shall be for euermore betweene vs. Warre so well as peace, hath his law and right: which we haue learned to obserue with no lesse Justice, then constancie. We make no warre against boies, whom wee spare, whensoeuer we inuade or take any cities: but against armed men we fight, yea, and against such, as without offence, or prouocation of our partes, assailed the Romaines campe at the siege of the Veiens. Thou hast vanquished them so much as lyeth in thee, with a new kinde of victorie atchieued by treason: but I will subdue them by pollicie of the Romaines, by vertue, indeuour and armes, euen as I did the Veiens." When he had spoken those wordes, he caused this trayterous scholemaister to be striped starke naked, and binding his handes behinde him, deliuered him to the children, with roddes in their handes, to whippe him home to the citie. When hee was in this order retourned, the people of the citie flocked together to see this sight. Then the magistrates assembled in counsaile, vpon this straunge occasion, and where before they were incensed with maruailous wrath and furie, rather desirous of vtter ouerthrow, then peace. Now their mindes were quite altered, and peace vniuersally demaunded. The fidelitie of the Romaines, and iustice of Camillus, both in Forum and Court was celebrated, and by general conformitie, Ambassadours were sente into the campe to Camillus, and from thence by Camillus sufferance, to the Senate of Rome, of purpose to yelde themselues to their gouernment, who being brought before the Senate spake these woordes. "Wee (fathers conscripte) vanquished by you and your Captaine, (where at neither God nor man oughte to be offended) haue yelded our selues to you, thinking that wee shall liue more happie, and better contented vnder your gouernmente, then by our owne lawes and liberties: a thing that maketh the victor more glorious and praise worthie, then anye other. By the successe of these warres, two holsome examples bee manifested to mankinde. Ye doe preferre fayth in warres before certaine victorie, and we, induced by that faith, haue of our owne accord, presented victorie unto you. We be at your commaundement: sende hither commissioners, to receiue our weapons, our pledges and our citie, which standeth with the gates wide open. We hope well, that neither ye shall haue occasion to be miscontented with oure fidelitie, nor wee offended with your gouernment and Empyre." For which facte greate thankes were attributed to Camillus, both by the Falisques and Romaynes.

Here appeared the face and true Image of that greate vertue, Justice, wherewith this noble man was truly affected. His noble nature was not able to abide any trayterous fact, done by vnnaturall Citizens, toward their owne countrie. No vngratitude of his owne countrie men, could withdrawe his nature from the zeale and loue he bare to his countrie. His condempnation by vnkinde Apuleius Saturninus the Tribune, for which he fledde to Ardea, could not let or impeach his magnanimitie from giuinge the Galles an ouerthrowe when they had sacked Rome, and sharpely besieged the Capitole: who in his absence (created Dictator,) by gathering together such Romaines as were fledde, vnwares set vpon the couetous Galles, as they were in controuersie for paimente of a golden summe of money, and thereby restored his countrie to libertie. Wherefore worthely might he be intitled, with the honourable name of a second Romulus. For as Romulus was the first builder and peopler of that citie, so was Camillus the vindicator and deliuerer of the same.



THE EIGHTEENTH NOUELL.

The Historie of Papyrius Pratextatus.

The same historie is written by Cato, in an oration which he made to his souldiours against Galba, contayninge in effecte as foloweth. The Senatours of Rome vsed before this time, to enter into the Senate house with their sonnes, Praetextatis, that is, in long robes garded about the skirtes with purple silke. When the Senate debated of graue and waightie matters, they euer deferred the same till the next day, forbiddinge that those causes should not be published, before they were throughly decreed. The mother of this yong gentleman Papyrius, which had been with his father in the Senate house, asked of him, what the fathers had done in the Senate house that day? Papyrius aunswered, that in any wise, he ought not to tell the secretes of the same. The mother more desirous to know then she was before, went about by faire meanes, foule wordes and correction, to vnderstand the secretes of the Senate, and the cause why the same were kept so silente. Wherefore she more earnestlye endeuoured to learne the same of her sonne. The yong man by compulsion of his mother, toke occasion to inuent a pleasaunt and mery lie, in this wise. "Mother (quoth he) the Senate doth deliberate and consult, whether it be more commodious and profitable for the common wealthe, that one man should haue two wiues, or whether one wife shoulde haue two husbandes." When the old Ladie heard this she was abashed, and in fearefull wise goeth to the other Ladies and matrones of Rome, tellinge them, where about their husbands did consult. The next day the women flocked together in great traines, and in lamentable wise repaired to the Senate, beseching them that one woman might rather be maried to two husbands, then two wiues to one man. The Senatours entring into the Court, marueyled what toyes were in the womens heads, to make that demaunde. The yong gentleman Papyrius stepped foorth, declaring how importunate his mother was, to know whereuppon they consulted the day before, and therefore he deuised that fained tale, to pacifie her desire. The Senatours hearing and perceyuing his good and honeste disposition, greatly commended and extolled his fidelity and witte. Howbeit, they made a lawe that from that time forth, none of their sonnes should come into the house with their father, but onely Papyrius. Who afterwardes receiued the surname of Praetextatus, to honour and beautifie his name, for his notable wysedome in keeping secretes, and holding his peace, in the time of that youthly age.



THE NINETEENTH NOUELL.

How Plutarche did beate his man, and of pretie talke touching signes of anger.

Avlus Gellius demaunding of the Philosopher Taurus, whether a wise man could be angrie? Taurus after he had disputed much of that affection, turned to Gellius and said: "This is mine opinion of the angrie man: but what the Philosopher Plutarche iudgeth thereof, I thincke it not a misse to tell thee. Plutarche had a bondman which was an vnthrift and wicked verlet, but geuen to learning and to disputation of Philosophie, whom vppon a time he did beate, making him to put of his coate, and to be whipped, for what offence I know not: he began to beate him: the fellow cryed out, that he had deserued no cause, why he ought to be so beaten. At length in continuance of his beating, he gaue ouer his crying complaintes, and began to vtter earneste and serious woordes, saying. 'It was not Plutarche the Philosopher, that beate him: (he said) it was a shame for Plutarche to be angrie, and how he had heard him many times dispute of that vice of anger, and yet he had written a goodly booke thereof:' with manye such words. 'Why, (quoth Plutarche, with gentle and quiet debating of the matter:) thou lubbor, do I seeme to be angry with thee? Doest thou either by my countenaunce, by my talke, by my colour, or words, perceyue that I am angrie? Nether mine eyes be fierce, nor my mouth troubled: I cry not out a loude: I chaufe not in rage or fume: I speake no vnseemely woordes, whereof I take repentaunce: I tremble not. All which be signes and tokens of anger: which pretie notes of that vnseemely passion, ought to minister to all men, occasion to auoyde that vice.'"



THE TWENTIETH NOUELL.

A pretie tale drawne out of the Larke of AEsope.

AEsope of Phrygia is not vnworthely demed a wise man. For so much as he admonisheth and perswadeth those thinges that be profitable, not seuerely or imperiously as Philosophers doe, but by pretye and pleasaunt fables he indueth the mindes of men with holsome and prouident instructions. As by this fable of the birdes neste, he pretily and aptly doth premonish that hope and confidence of thinges attempted by man, ought to be fixed and trusted in none other but in him selfe. A litle birde (saith he) called the Larke, builded her neste in a Wheate field, and when the Wheate was ready to be ripped, her yonge began to fledge. Therefore flyinge abroade to seeke meate for them, shee warned them that if there fortuned anye newes to be done or spoken in her absence, they should giue diligent heede thereunto, and to tell her when she retourned. Within a while after, the Owner of the corne called a yong man, his sonne, vnto him, (saying) "Doest thou see this Wheate now ripe and ready to be cut, lacking nothing but helpe to reape the same? Gette thee therefore to morowe in the morninge (so soone as the daye doth breake) vnto my frendes and neighbours, and praye them to come and helpe me in with this Corne:" and so departed. When the damme retourned, the yonge Larkes in trembling and fearefull wise, peping and chirping about their mother, prayed her to make hast to seeke some other place: for the owner of the Wheat had sent for his frends, to be there the next day by times to haue it in. Their damme bad them to be of good cheere: "If the owner (quoth she) do referre it to his frendes, I am sure the Wheate shal not be cutte downe to morowe, and therefore wee shall not neede to feare." The next day the damme flew abrode again for foode, and the owner waited at the houre appointed for his frendes. The Sunne was vp, whose beames shone hot, and nothing was done: his frendes came not. Then he said againe to his sonne: "Me thincke sonne (quoth he) our neighbours be slepers and tarrie long. Goe, call I pray thee, our kinsfolke and cosins, that they maye helpe vs to morowe betimes." Which saying the yong Larkes ones againe afraid, tolde their damme when she returned: the damme still perswaded them to be of good cheere and not to feare: "For kinsfolke in these dayes, be so slacke to do good deedes (quoth she) and to helpe their owne stocke and kinred, that they bee loothe to take paines, specially at so short and sodaine warning: neuerthelesse, faire byrdes, (quoth shee) harken what shalbe said againe and tell mee." The next morning the old Larke went forth againe for food and forage, and the kinsfolke and cosins came not, according to the owners request. At length the owner saide to his sonne: "Adieu my frendes and kinsemen: to morow in the morning, bring hither two Sickles, the one for mee, and the other for thy selfe, and wee with our owne hands, wil cut downe this Wheate." The mother Larke, hearing her yong ones tel this tale at her retourne: "Ye marie my babes (quoth shee) now it is time to be gone: for the thing whereof the owner hath spoken so long, shal now be done in deede, sith he purposeth to do the same himselfe, and trusteth to none other." Whereuppon the Larke toke vp her yong ones, and went to inhabite in some other place. And the corne accordinglye, was cutte downe by the owner. This fable AEsope reporteth, premonishing men to beware of lighte hope, and vaine truste, to be reposed in frends and kinsfolke. And the same Q. Ennius in his Satyres, very elegantlye in trim verses hath described the two laste, whereof worthie to be had in harte and memorie, I haue thought good to remember.

Alwayes fixe fast in breast, in prompt and ready wise: This prouerbe olde and true, a sentence of the wise: The thing do not expect, by frends for to atchieue: Which thou thyselfe canst doe, thy selfe for to relieue.



THE TWENTY-FIRST NOUELL.

A merie geste, vttered by Hanniball to king Antiochus.

Antiochus making great preparation and furniture, to inferre warres vpon the Romaines, decked his armie with Siluer and Golden Ensignes and Pendentes, wherein he had plentie of wagons, chariots and Elephantes with towers, his bande of horsemen glittered gloriouslie, with golden bridles, trappers, barbes, and such like. The king beholdinge, in glorious and reioysing wise, his gaye and beautifull armie: loked towards Hannibal, and said: "How saiest thou Hannibal? thinkest thou that these thinges be not ynough and sufficient to match with the Romaynes?" Hannibal mocking and deluding the cowardnes and weakenes of his souldiours, clad in those precious and costlie furnitures, saide. "All these thinges be ynough and ynough againe for the Romaines, although they were the most couetous men of the world." The king vnderstoode Hannibal, that he had meant of the nomber of his souldiours, and of their brauerie. But hee meant of the pray and spoile, which the Romaines should winne and gette.



THE TWENTY-SECOND NOUELL.

The marueilous knowledge of a Lion, being acquainted with a man, called Androdus.

There chaunced to be certaine playes and games at Rome, wher were many monstruous and cruel beastes: but amonges all those beastes, the hugenesse and cruell aspectes of the Lions were had in greatest wonder, especially of one: which Lion was of an huge and greate bignesse, hauinge a terrible voyce, his clawes stretched forth, his bristles and heare vprighte, beholdinge with his fierce and deadly eyes, all the multitude standing by. There was brought in to fight with the lion amonges al the rest, one Androdus a Dacian borne, the bondman of a great personage, of the Consular order, whom the Lion beholding a farre of, sodenly stoode still: and afterwards by litle and litle, in gentle sort he came vnto the man, as though he had knowen him: Wagging his taile like a Spaniel fawning vpon his maister, and licked the handes and legges of the poore felow, which for feare was almost dead. This Androdus perceyuing the flatteries of this fierce beast, recouered comforte, and earnestly viewed and marked the Lion. Then they began to enter into mutual acquaintaunce, one reioycing at an others meting. Upon which straung euent, the people raysed great shoutes and acclamations: wherupon Androdus was called before the Emperoure, and demaunded the cause, why that most cruell beast did in that sorte, fawne and fauour him aboue all other.

Androdus tould a maruaylous and straunge historye of the cause thereof, saying: "If it please your Maiestie, when my Lorde and maister did by the office of Proconsull gouerne Africa, I throughe his causelesse stripes and dailye whippinges, was forced to runne awaye. And when I had gotten pardon of the liefetenaunte of that countrie, to remaine there, I withdrew my selfe into the deserts and voide places: and lacking meate to ease the paine of hunger, I determined by some meanes, to seeke mine owne death. It chaunced about the midde of the day, when the Sunne was feruent hot, I entred into a Caue, which was farre from habitation, verye wide and large. Whereunto, within a while after, this Lion resorted, hauing one of his feete bloudie and hurt: for paine whereof, he vttered much mone and sorrow, bewayling the griefe, and anguishe of the sore. When I saw the Lion my hart began to quake for feare, but beinge come in, as it were into his owne habitation (for so it shoulde appeare,) perceyuinge me to go aboute to hide myselfe a farre of, he like a milde and gentle beast came vnto me, holding vp his foote, reaching the same to me, as though he desired helpe and reliefe at my handes. Wherewithall I plucked out of his foote a stubbe, which stucke betweene the pawes thereof, and taking a litle salue, which I had in my bosome, I thrust it into the bottome of the wounde, and diligently without any further feare, I dryed vp the wound, and wiped away the bloud thereof: wherewith the lion being eased, resting his foote in my handes, he laye downe to refreshe him selfe. From that day duringe the space of three yeares, the Lion and I continued together, and liued with like fare: the fattest and best morsels of those beastes, which he prayed, he did euer bring me into the Caue: which meate because I had no fire, I rosted in the heate of the Sunne, and did eate the same with good stomacke. But when I began to waxe weary of that kinde of diet, vpon a time the Lion being abroad, I forsoke the Caue, and trauailing almost the space of three dayes, I was espied and taken of the souldiours, and brought home to my maister out of Africa to Rome: who immediatlie condempned mee to be deuoured of beastes. And now I perceiue that this lion sithens I lefte his companie is taken, and doth acquite that good tourne and cure, which I shewed him then." The people hearing the discourse of this straunge fact, made suite that the felow might be pardoned, and set at libertie: and the Lion by generall voyce was giuen vnto him for reward. Afterwards Androdus caried the Lion abrode the citie in a litle corde, and had muche money giuen him: and the Lion was decked and beautified with flowers, and euery man that met them, did vse to say:—"This is the Lion the frend of this man, and this is the man, the Phisition of the Lion."



THE TWENTY-THIRD NOUELL.

A pretie disputation of the philosopher Phauorinus, to perswade a woman not to put forth her child to nursse, but to nourishe it herselfe with her owne milke.

It was told to the Philosopher Phauorinus, that the wife of one of his Sectators and scholers was brought a bedde of a sonne. "Let vs go (quoth Phauorinus) to visite the childwife, and to gratulate the father for the ioy of his sonne." When they were entred the house, after hee had saluted the good man, according to the custome, he asked the wife how she did, and prayed the Gods to sende her good footing, and then inquired of her trauel, and painfull panges. When he vnderstode that her trauel was greate, and her bodye weake with watchinge, howbeit somewhat comforted with sleepe which she had taken, he determined to enter into further talke. "I doubt not gossip (quoth he) but that you purpose to nourish your sonne your selfe." The mother of the woman hearing him say so, began to pray pardon, and said, that her doughter might not both sustaine paine in the birth, and also trouble to nourish it herselfe. "I pray thee mother, said Phauorinus, to suffer thy doughter to be the whole and intire mother of her owne sonne. What kinde of halfe and vnperfecte mothers be they, which so sone as they be deliuered do, against nature, by and by thruste the child awaye from them? Can they nourishe with their owne bloud, the thing which they see not, and wil they not vouchsafe to bestow their milke vppon that, which is now a lyuing creature, crying out before their faces for the mothers helpe, and dutie? O thou vnkinde woman, doest thou thincke that nature hath giuen thee two breastes for nothinge els, but to beautifie and adorne thy bodie, and not to giue sucke to thy children? In like sort many prodigious and monstruous women, haue dried vp and extinguished that moste sacred fountaine of the body, the educatour of mankinde: not without peril of their persons: as though the same were a disgracing of their beautie and comlinesse. The like also some do attempt by deuises and subtile secretes to extrude theyr conceptions, that the swelling of their body might not irrigate and wrinckle their faces, and that their paineful labours and great burdens, do not make them looke olde in their youthly dayes. And like as it is generally to be abhorred, that man in his first beginnings, (when he is fashioned and inspired with life, and in the handes of the cunning and wise woman, dame Nature,) should be killed and slaine: euen so with not much lesse detestation it is to be had and compted, when he is perfecte and borne and the childe of thine owne bloude, to be depriued from his due sustenance. But it is no matter (wil som say) with whose milke hee be nourced, so hee receiue milke and liue. The like may be said to that man which is so dull in perceyuing the prouidence of nature, that what matter had it been in whose bodye, and with whose bloud, he himselfe had been formed and brought into light. Hath not she which nowe respireth, and with beauty waxeth white and fayre, the same bloud now in her breastes, which was before remayninge in her wombe? Is not the wysedome of nature manifest in this, that after the cunning workman the bloud, hath framed in the inward parts euery body of man, straight way when the time of byrthe approcheth, the same bloude infudeth himselfe into the vpper partes, and is readie to nourishe the rudimentes of lyfe and lighte, offeringe acquaintaunce and familiar sustinance to the new borne? Wherefore in vaine is not that report and beliefe, that like as the force and nature of the generation seede is able to shape the similitudes of the mind and body, euen so the qualities and properties of the Milke, do auayle to like effect. Which thinge is not onelye marked in men, but also in brute beastes. For if Kiddes be sockled vp wyth Ewes Milke, and Lambes wyth Goates, the woll of thone will grow more rough and hard, and the heare of the other more tender and soft. In trees also and fruites, there is for the most part, a greater force and power in the nature of the soile and water where they grow, eyther for the pruning and planting, then there is if straunge impes and seedes be grifted and sowen there. And many times you see, that a fruitfull tree, caried and set in an other place, decayeth, throughe the nature of the ground more barren. What reason is this then, to corrupt the noble nature of this borne childe, whose body and minde, is well begunne wyth naturall beginninges to infect the the same wyth the degenerate food of straung Milke. Specially if she to whom you shall put forth this childe to giue sucke, be eyther a bonde and seruile woman, and (as commonly it chauncheth) of a forren and barbarous nation, be she wicked, ill fauoured, whorish or drunken. For diuers times without difference, children be put foorth to suche Noursses, whose honestie and conditions, in the tyme of the putting foorth, be vtterly vnknowen. Shall we suffer therefore, this our infant to be corrupted with pestiferous milke? Shall we abyde a newe nature and spirite, to bee renued in his mynde and bodye, deriued from that whiche is moste vile and wicked? Muche like to the same, whiche many tymes wee see and wonder, howe diuers chyldren borne of chaste and honest women, haue bodies and qualities farre discrepant from their honest parentes. Wherefore very trimlie and cunningly Maro folowing Homeres verses, doth say, speaking of the cruel nature of Achilles:

Sir Peleus that gentle knight, was not thy father sure, Nor yet thy dame faire Thetis was whose grace the Goddes did lure: The raging Sea, and stonie rockes, did bring thee forth to light: Thy nature is so bloudie bent, so fierce in cruell fight.

He did not herein reprehende the birth of Achilles, but the nature of the cruell and sauage beaste that broughte him vp; for he added this of his owne.

And the Hircan Tigres did giue him sucke.

And truely the condicion of the Noursse, and nature of the milke, disposeth almost the greater part of the childes condition, whiche (notwithstanding the fathers seede, and creation of the bodie and mynde, within the mothers wombe) doth nowe in the beginning of his nouriture, configurate and frame a newe disposition in him. Moreouer who can saye the contrarie, but that such women as put their children from them, deliuering them to bee nourced of other, doe cut of, naye, rather doe wype awaye and extinguyshe, that bande and increase of mynde and affection, that doeth consociate and ioyne in nature, the parentes towarde their children. For when the childe is put forth to an other place and remoued from the mothers sighte, the vigor and tendernesse of her affection, is by litle and little forgotten, and out of memorie, and the derest care of her tender babe, groweth to vtter silence. The sending awaye of the chylde to an other Nourice is not muche inferiour to the forgetfulnesse that chaunceth when death dothe take it awaye. Agayne, the affection, the loue, and familiaritie of the chylde, is prone to her that giueth it sucke. And so as it is euidently seene in them that be put foorth, the chylde taketh no knoweledge, or desire of the owne mother, that brought it forth. Therefore, when the elementes and beginnings of natural pietie and loue be ones abandoned and defaced, howe soeuer suche children, in that sorte brought vp, shall seeme to loue the parentes, yet for the moste part, it is no pure and naturall affection, but rather a suposed and Ciuile loue." Thus this noble Philosopher giueth counsayle to euery good mother, not to be ashamed or grieued, to bringe vp her childe with her own Milke, after her greatest payne past, whom before with her owne bloud, she disdained not to feede in her owne bodie.



THE TWENTY-FOURTH NOUELL.

Of Sertorius a noble Romaine capitaine.

Like as in a good captaine, chosen out by any prince and monarche, to serue in his warres and exploytes, manhode and valiaunce is to be desired and wished: euen so in the same a politique minde, to forecaste and preuente, as well the saufetie and good gouernement of his owne charge, as the anoyaunce of the enemie is to be desired. Cicero in his oration Pro lege Manilia, affirmeth fower thinges, mete to be in a Generall or Lieutenaunte. That is to saye: Scientia rei militaris, virtus, authoritas, f[oe]licitas, Knowledge of warfare, Manhode, Authoritie, and good Fortune. Knowledge and experience, in choyce of his souldiours, in trayning the ignoraunt, in lodging the campe, in politique order howe to dispose the Scoutes and watche, in making the approche, and defence of the armie lodged, with other necessarie orders, incident to the same. In manhode, boldlie to aduenture, warely to retire, paciently to suffer misfortune, hardly to lie, sparely to fare, stoutlie to abide stormes and colde weather. In authoritie wiselie to gouerne, gently to speake, iustly to threaten, deseruedly to punishe, mercifully to forgiue, liberally to deuide, and louingly to be obeied. And in felicitie and good successe, to honour God: to be faithfull to the prince, to preuente the enemy, not to triumphe before the victorie. To be constant in froward fortune, and coragious in extremitie. Al which and many other, are very mete and requisite in him, that shalbe put in trust, by his soueraigne Lorde or Ladie, to aduenture the painful charge of a Deputie, General, Lieutenaunt, or Captaine. Whereof, or in the chiefest of the same this noble gentleman Sertorius, a captaine of the Romaine citie, in time of Marius and Sylla, when the citie of Rome were at ciuile discention, had greate skil and knowledge. For besides his experience in the warres (as Plutarche saith in his life) hee was very abstinente from pleasures, and continente in other disorders, a rare thing in men of his calling. But because I purpose not to staye in the full discourse of his vertues and qualities, I meane but to touche in this Nouell, so muche as Aulus Gellius (in whom I am now conuersant) doth of him make remembraunce. Referring the studious reader, desirous to know the state of his life and doinges, to the plentifull recorders of such memorable and worthie personages: Plutarche de vitis illustrium, and Appianu's de ciuili Romanorum bello. Which beinge Greeke authours, be very eloquently translated in the Latine, thone by Gulielmus Xilander 1561, and thother by Sigismundus Gelenius 1554. This Sertorius was of a pregnaunt witte, and therewithall a noble Captaine, very skilfull in the vse and gouernement of an armye. In distresse and harde aduentures hee practised for pollicie, to make lies to his souldiours, to proue if they coulde preuaile. He vsed counterfait letters, to imagine dreames, and to conferre false religions, to trye if those thinges could serue his tourne, in comforting and couraging his souldiours. Amonges al the factes of Sertorius, this insuing was very notable and famous. A white Stagge of exceeding beauty and liuely swetenesse, was giuen vnto him by a Lusitanian: He perswaded euery man, that the same was deliuered vnto him by the Goddes, and how the Goddesse Diana had inspired that beaste to admonishe and teache what was meete and profitable: and when he wente about to cause his souldiours to aduenture anye hard and difficile exploit: he affirmed, that the Stagge had giuen him warning thereof, which they vniversally beleued, and willingly obeyed, as though the same had been sent downe from the Gods in deede. The same Stagge vpon a time, when newes came that the enemye had made incursion into his campe, amased with the haste and turmoile, ranne awaye and hid him selfe in a marishe harde adioyning. Afterwardes being sought for, hee was supposed to be dead. Within fewe dayes after, tidinges was brought to Sertorius that the Stagge was founde. The messenger was commaunded by him to holde his peace, and threatened to be punished, if he did disclose it. The next day, the same messenger was appointed sodainly, to bring the Stagge into the place, where he and his frendes, did consulte together. When they were assembled he tolde them howe the daye after that he had lost his Stagge, he dreamed that he was come againe, and according to his custome, tolde him that was needefull to be done. Then Sertorius making a signe, to haue the order fulfilled, whiche he had geuen the daye before, by and by the Stagge brake into the chamber. Wherewithall a great shoute was made, and an admiration raysed of that chaunce. Whiche credulitie of the barbarous countries, serued Sertorius tourne in his weightie affaires. A worthy matter also, is to be remembred of him, that no Souldiour that euer serued him, of those vnciuile countries (that tooke his part) did neuer reuolte or forsake him, although those kinde of people be moste inconstant.



THE TWENTY-FIFTH NOUELL.

Of the bookes of Sybilla.

In auncient Chronicles, these things appere in memorie, touchinge the bookes of Sybilla. A straunge and vnknowen old woman, repaired to the Romaine kyng Tarquinius Superbus, bearing in her armes nine bookes, which she sayde were deuine Oracles, and offered them to be solde. Tarquinius demaunded the price. The woman asked a wonderfull somme. The king making semblaunce as though the olde woman doted, began to laughe. Then shee gotte fyre in a chafing dishe, and burned three bookes of the nyne. She asked the kyng again, if he would haue the sixe for that prise, wherat the king laughed in more ample sorte, saying: "that the olde woman no doubt did dote in deede." By and by she burned other three, humbly demaunding the king the like question, if he would buye the reste for that price. Wherevpon the kyng more earnestlye gaue hede to her requeste, thinking the constante demaundes of the woman not to be in vain, bought the three bookes that remained for no lesse price, then was required for the whole. Therewithall the woman departed from Tarquinius, and was neuer seene after. These bookes were kept in the Capitole at Rome, whereunto the Romaines resorted, when they purposed to aske counsayle of the Goddes. A good example for wyse men to beware, howe they despyse or neglecte auncient bookes and monumentes. Many the like in this Realme haue bene defaced, founde in Religious houses, whiche no doubte woulde haue conduced great vtilitie and profite both to the common wealth and countrie, if they had bene reserued and kepte, whiche bookes by the ignoraunt, haue ben torne and raised, to the great griefe of those that be learned, and of them that aspire to learning and vertue.



THE TWENTY-SIXTH NOUELL.

A difference and controuersie betwene a maister and a scholler, so subtile that the iudges coulde not geue sentence.

Diuers thinges be written, whiche although they seme of litle importaunce, yet they be wittie and comfortable to recreate honest mindes and deserue to be had in remembraunce. Emongs whiche Aulus Gellius (who reporteth tenne of the former Histories, selected out of his booke De noctibus atticis) remembreth this pretie controuersie. In Athenes there was a yong man, called Euathlus, who being desirous to be an Orator, and a pleading Aduocate, to the intent he might postulate, according to the accustomed maner of Athenes in those daies, accorded vpon a price, with a renowned Oratour named Protagoras, that he should instruct him that arte, for a price agreed vpon betwene them, vpon condicion that the Scholler should pay the one half of the money before hande vnto his maister, and the reste at such time as he should proue to be an Aduocate, so well instructed, as the first matter, which he did pleade, he should obtaine sentence on his side, and gayne for his labour and industrie. But if sentence were pronounced against hym, he should not be bound to paye the same. Vppon this conclusion, the Maister taughte hym with greate diligence, the vttermoste of his knowledge in that arte. The Scholler againe learned and receyued his teaching, with greate prompitude and readinesse of witte. When Protagoras hadde taught him the vttermost of his knowledge: the Scholler Euathlus, to defraude hym of the reste of his money, determined neuer to be Aduocate, whose craft Protagoras perceiuing, cited him by writte, to appeare before the iudge, to aunswere the reste of the bargaine. When they were both come in the Iudges presence, Protagoras spake to his scholer in this wyse: "Euathlus, the bargaine betweene vs, thou canst not chose but confesse and acknowledge, whiche in effect is this. It was agreed that I should teache thee, the arte of pleading, and in the first matter whiche thou diddest pronounce and sentence giuen on thy parte, thou shouldest paye me the other halfe of the money (for the first moitie I receiued before hande) and nowe to auoyde the satisfaction thereof (although thou knowest, that I haue full well deserued it) thou to defraude me of my duetie, refusest to be an Aduocate. But I wil tell thee, this thy determination is but vayne and frustrate: for I haue intangled thee in suche nettes, as thou canst not escape: but by one meane or other thou shalt be forced to pay mee. For if the Iudge doe condempne thee, then maugre thy head thou shalt be constrayned: and if contrariwyse sentence be giuen on thy side, thou shalt be likewyse bounde to paye me, by thy verie couenaunt, sithens thou art bounde, when thou pleadest first, and sentence should be giuen in thy behalfe. Doe nowe then what thou liste, for in fine thou fhalt be forced to paye me, in despite of thy teethe." All the assistantes held with Protagoras, affirming his suite to be very reasonable. Notwithstanding Euathlus with a bolde spirite, aunswered for him selfe in this maner: "Sir Protagoras, it semeth vnto you that I am conuicted, but staye a whyle and giue me leaue to speake: and then you shall perceiue in what wyse I will confounde your argument. Here you haue brought your action against me, wherof I truste vpon my reasonable answere before the Iudges, to be discharged. For if by this your pleading, by circumstaunces and arte of an Oratour, whiche you haue vsed in all your discourse, the matter shall fall so out as sentence be giuen on your side, then the bargayne made betwene vs is voyde and of none effecte, bicause I losing the profite of my firste pleading: wherein by our agrement sentence should be geuen on my behalfe, the same bargaine is not accomplished. For you should be payde the moitie of the money behinde, with that commoditie, which I did gayne by my first pleading: for whiche cause, there is no reason but I must bee discharged of your demaunde." After this debating of the matter, the Iudges wayed with argumentes of both parts whiche semed so doubtfull vnto them, that knowing not howe to giue sentence, they suspended the processe.

The same Aulus Gellius, reciteth an other lyke question, whiche hee referreth to Plinie, as the firste authour thereof. There was a lawe (sayeth hee) in a certayne citie, that what so euer hee were, that committed any valiaunte facte of armes, the thyng that he demaunded, whatsoeuer it were, should be graunted vnto him. It chaunced that a certayne persone did this worthy acte, and required that a man's wife (whom he derely loued) should be giuen vnto him: whiche wyfe by force and vertue of the lawe, was accordingly deliuered. But afterwardes the man, from whome his wyfe was taken, did the lyke facte, and demaunding his wyfe to be redeliuered vnto him agayn, sayde vnto him that had her: "If thou wilt obserue the lawe, thou must of force deliuer vnto me, my wyfe, but if thou do not like the lawe, thou oughtest yet to render her vnto me, as mine owne." The other aunswered him in like sorte: "If thou obserue the lawe, this woman is myne, for I haue first wonne her by the lawe: but if thou do not approue the lawe, thou hast no right to demaunde her, shee nowe being myne."



THE TWENTY-SEUENTH NOUELL.

Seleucus king of Asia, gaue his wife to his owne sonne in mariage, being his mother in lawe: who so feruently did loue her, that he was like to die, whiche by a discrete and wyse inuention, was discouered to Seleucus by a Phisition.

Although the wyse Philosopher Plutarche, elegantly and brieflye describeth this historie, in the life of Demetrius: yet bicause Bandello aptlye and more at large doth discourse the same, I thought good to apply my pen to his stile. Who saith that Seleucus king of Babylon, a man verie victorious in battaile, was amongs the successors of Alexander the great, the moste happie and fortunate: He had a sonne called by his father's name Antiochus. After the deceasse of his wife, his sonne increased and gaue great hope of valiaunce in future time, to become a valiant gentleman worthy of suche a father. And being ariued to XXIIII. yeres of age, it chaunced that his father fell in loue with a very faire yonge gentle woman, discended of great parentage (called Stratonica) whom he tooke to wife, and made her Queene, and by her had one sonne. Antiochus seing his mother in lawe, to be (besides her great beautie) a curteous and gentle Lady, began to be very amerous of her, whose hart war so set on fire (without apparent shew) that incredible it is to expresse the loue that he bare her. And yet he thought that