EUphues having gotten all things necessary for his voyage into England, accompanied onelye with Philautus, tooke shipping the first of December, 1579, by our English Computation: Who as one resolved to see that with his eies, which he had oftentimes heard with his eares, began to use this perswasion to his friend Philautus, aswell to counsell him how he should behave him-selfe in England, as to comfort him beeing nowe on the Seas.

As I have found thee willing to be a fellow in my travell, so would I have thee ready to be a follower of my counsell: in the one shalt thou shew thy good will, in the other manifest thy wisdome. Wee are now sayling into an Iland of smal compasse as I gesse by their Maps, but of great civility as I hear by their maners, which if it be so, it behooveth us to be more inquisitive of their conditions, then of their countrey: and more carefull to marke the natures of their men, then curious to note the situation of the place. And surely me thinketh we cannot better bestow our time on the Sea, then in advise how to behave our selves when we come to the shore: for greater daunger is ther to arive in a straunge countrey where the inhabitants be pollitique, then to be tossed with the troublesome waves, where the Mariners be unskilfull. Fortune guideth men in the rough Sea, but Wisdome ruleth them in a straunge land.

If Travailers in this our age were as warye of their conditions, as they be venterous of their bodyes, or as willing to reape profit by their paines, as they are to endure perill for their pleasure, they would either prefer their own foyle (sic.?) before a straunge Land, or good counsell before their owne conceyte. But as the young scholler in Athens went to heare Demosthenes eloquence at Corinth, and was entangled with Lais beautie, so most of our travailers which pretend to get a smacke of straunge language to sharpen their wits, are infected with vanity by following their wils. Daunger and delight growe both uppon one stalke, the Rose and the Canker in one bud, white and blacke are commonly in one border. Seeing then my good Philautus, that we are not to conquer wilde beasts by fight, but to confer with wise men by pollicie: We ought to take greater heede that we be not intrapped in follye, then feare to bee subdued by force. And heere by the way it shall not be amisse, aswell to drive away the tediousnesse of time, as to delight our selves with talke, to rehearse an olde treatise of an auncient Hermitte, who meeting with a pylgrime at his Cell, uttered a straunge and delightfull tale, which if thou Philautus are disposed to heare, and these present attentive to have, I will spende some time about it, knowing it both fit for us that be travailers to learne wit, and not unfit for these that be Merchaunts to get wealth.

Philautus although the stumpes of love so sticked in his mind, that he rather wished to heare an Eelegie in Ovid, then a tale of an Hermit: yet was hee willing to lend his eare to his friende, who had left his heart with his Lady, for you shal understand that Philautus having read the Cooling Carde which Euphues sent him, sought rather to aunswere it, then allow it. And I doubt not but if Philautus fall into his olde vaine in England, you shall heare of his new device in Italy. And although some shall thinke it impertinent to the historie, they shall not finde it repugnant, no more then in one nosegay to set two flowers, or in one counterfaite two coulours, which bringeth more delight, then disliking.

Philautus aunswered Euphues in this manner.

MY good Euphues, I am as willing to heare thy tale, as I am to be pertaker of thy travaile, yet I knowe not howe it commeth to passe, that my eyes are eyther heavy against foule weather, or my head so drowsie against some ill newes, that this tale shall come in good time to bring me a sleepe, and then shall I get no harme by the Hermit, though I get no good: the other that wer then in the shippe flocked about Euphues, who began in this manner.

THere dwelt some-tymes in the Iland Scyrum, an auncient gentleman called Cassander, who aswell as by his being a long gatherer, as his trad being a lewd usurer, waxed so wealthy, that he was thought to have almost all the money in that countrey in his owne coffers, being both aged and sickly, found such weaknesse in him-selfe, that he thought nature would yeeld to death, and phisicke to his diseases. 'This Gentleman had one onely sonne, who nothing resembled the father either in fancie or favour, which the olde manne perceiving, dissembled with him both in nature and honestie, whom he caused to be called unto his bedside, and the chamber beeing voyded, he brake with him in these tearmes.

Callimachus (for so was hee called) thou art too young to dye, and I too old to lyve: yet as nature must of necessitie pay hir debt to death, so must she also shew hir devotion to thee, whome I alive had to be the comfort of myne age, and whome alone I must leave behynde mee, for to bee the onely maynteiner of all myne honour. If thou couldest aswell conceive the care of a father, as I can level at the nature of a childe, or wer I as able to utter my affection towards a sonne as thou oughtest to shew thy duety to thy sire, then wouldest thou desire my life to enjoy my counsell, and I should correct thy life to amend thy conditions: yet so tempered, as neyther rigor might detract any thing from affection in me, or feare any whit from thee, in duety. But seeing my selfe so feeble that I cannot live to bee thy guyde, I am resolved to give thee such counsell as may do thee good, wher-in I shal shew my care, and discharge my duetie.

My good sonne, thou art to receive by my death wealth, and by my counsel wisdom, and I would thou wert as willing to imprint the one in thy hart, as thou wilt be ready to beare the other in thy purse: to bee rich is the gift of Fortune, to bee wise the grace of God. Have more minde on thy bookes then my bags, more desire of godlinesse then gold, greater affection to dye well, then to live wantonly.

But as the Cypresse tree, the more it is watered, the more it withereth, and the oftner it is lopped, the sooner it dyeth, so unbrideled youth, the more it is also by grave advise counselled, or due correction controlled, the sooner it falleth to confusion, hating all reasons that would bring it from folly, as that tree doth all remedies, that should make it fertile.

Alas Callimachus, when wealth commeth into the handes of youth before they can use it, then fall they to al disorder that may be, tedding that with a forke in one yeare, which was not gathered together with a rake, in twentie.

But why discourse I with thee of worldly affaires, being my self going to heaven, heere Callimachus take the key of yonder great barred Chest, wher thou shalt finde such store of wealth, that if thou use it with discretion, thou shalt become the onely rich man of the world. Thus turning him on his left side, with a deepe sigh and pitifull grone, gave up the ghoast.

Callimachus, having more minde to looke to the locke, then for a shrowding sheete, the breath beeing scarce out of his fathers mouth, & his body yet panting with heate, opened the Chest, where he found nothing, but a letter written very faire, sealed up with his Signet of armes, with this superscription:

In finding nothing, thou shalt gaine all things.

Callimachus, although hee were abashed at sight of the emptie Chest, yet hoping this letter would direct him to the golden Myne, he boldly opened it, the contents whereoff follow in these termes.

WIsedome is great wealth. Sparing, is good getting. Thrift consisteth not in golde, but grace. It is better to dye with-out money, then to live with out modestie. Put no more clothes on thy back, then will expell colde: neither any more meat in thy belly, then may quench hunger. Use not change in attire, nor varietie in thy dyet: the one bringeth pride, the other surfets. Each vaine, voyd of pietie: both costly, wide of profit.

Goe to bed with the Lambe, & rise with the Larke: Late watching in the night, breedeth unquyet: & long sleeping in the day, ungodlinesse: Flye both: this, as unwholsome: that, as unhonest.

Enter not into bands, no not for thy best friends: he that payeth an other mans debt seeketh his own decay, it is as rare to see a rich Surety, as a black Swan, and he that lendeth to all that will borrowe, sheweth great good will, but lyttle witte. Lende not a penny without a pawne, for that will be a good gage to borowe. Be not hastie to marry, it is better to have one plough going, then two cradells: and more profit to have a barne filled then a bedde. But if thou canst not live chastly, chuse such an one, as maye be more commended for humilitie, then beautie. A good huswife, is a great patrimony: and she is most honourable, that is most honest. If thou desire to be olde, beware of too much wine: If to be healthy, take heede of many women: If too be rich, shunne playing at all games. Long quaffing, maketh a short lyfe: Fonde lust, causeth drye bones: and lewd pastimes, naked pursses. Let the Cooke be thy Phisition, and the shambles thy Apothecaries shop: He that for every qualme wil take a Receipt, and can-not make two meales, unlesse Galen be his Gods good: shall be sure to make the Phisition rich, and himselfe a begger; his bodye will never be with-out diseases, and his pursse ever with-out money.

Be not too lavish in giving almes, the charitie of this Countrey, is, God helpe thee: and the courtesie, I have the best wine in towne for you.

Live in the Countrey, not in the Court: where neither Grasse will growe, nor Mosse cleave to thy heeles.

Thus hast thou if thou canst use it, the whole wealth of the world: and he that can not follow good counsel, never can get commoditie. I leave thee more, then thy father left me: For he dying, gave me great wealth, without care how I might keepe it: and I give thee good counsell, with all meanes how to get riches. And no doubt, what so is gotten with witte, will bee kept with warinesse, and encreased with Wisedome.

God blesse thee, and I blesse thee: and as I tender thy safetie, so God deale with my soule.

Callimaches was stroken into such a maze, at this his fathers last Will, that he had almost lost his former wit: And being in an extreame rage, renting his clothes and tearing his haire, began to utter these words.

Is this the nature of a Father to deceive his sonne, or the part of crabbed age, to delude credulous youth? Is the death bedde which ought to bee the ende of devotion, become the beginning of deceipt? Ah Cassander, friend I can-not terme thee, seeing thee so unkinde: and father I will not call thee, whome I finde so unnaturall.

Who so shall heare of this ungratefulnesse, will rather lament thy dealyng, then thy death: and marvel that a man affected outwardly with such great gravitie, should inwardly be infected with so great guile. Shall I then show the duetie of a childe, when thou hast forgotten the Nature of a Father? No, no, for as the Torch bourned downewarde, is extinguished with the self-same waxe which was the cause of his lyght: so Nature tourned to unkindenesse, is quenched by those meanes it shoulde be kindeled, leaving no braunch of love, where it founde no roote of humanitie.

Thou hast caryed to thy grave more graye haires, then yeares and yet more yeares, then vertues. Couldest thou under the Image of so precise holynesse, harbour the expresse patterne of barbarous crueltie? I see now, that as the Canker soonest entreth into the white Rose, so corruption doth easliest creepe into the white head.

Would Callimachus could as well disgest thy malyce with patience, as thou diddest disguise it with craft: or would I might either burie my care with thy carcasse, of that thou hadst ended thy defame with thy death.

But as the hearb Moly hath a floure as white as snow, & a roote as blacke as incke: so age hath a white head, showing pietie, but a black hart swelling with mischiefe.

Wher-by I see, that olde men are not unlyke unto olde Trees, whose barkes seemeth to be sound, when their bodies are rotten.

I will mourne, not that thou art now dead, but bicause thou hast lived so long: neither doe I weepe to see thee without breath, but to finde thee without mony.

In steede of coyne, thou hast left me counsaile: O polytique olde man. Didst thou learne by experience, that an edge can be any thing worth, if it have nothing to cut, or that Myners could worke without mettals, or Wisedome thrive, with-out where-with.

What availeth it to be a cunning Lapidarie, and have no stones? or a skilfull Pilot, and have no ship? or a thriftie man, and have no money. Wisdome hath no Mint, Counsell is no Coyner. He that in these dayes seeketh to get wealth by wit, with-out friends, is lyke unto him, that thinketh to buye meate in the market for honestie with-out money: which thriveth on either side so well, that the one hath a wittie head and an emptie pursse; the other a godly minde, & an emptie belly.

Yes, such a world it is, that Gods can do nothing with-out golde, and who of more might? nor Princes any thing with-out gifts, and who of more Majestie? nor Philosophers any thing with-out guylt, and who of more wisedome? For as among the Aegyptians, there was no man esteemed happie, that had not a beast full of spots, so amongst us ther is none accompted wise that hath not a purse full of golde. And haddest thou not loved money so well, thou wouldest never have lived so warily and died so wickedly, who either burying thy treasure, doest hope to meete it in hell, or borowing it of the Divel hast rendred him the whole, the interest where-of I feare me commeth to no lesse then the price of thy soule.

But whether art thou caried, Callimachus, rage can neither reduce thy fathers life, nor recover his treasure. Let it suffice thee, that he was unkinde, and thou unfortunate, that he is dead and heareth thee not, that thou art a live and profitest nothing.

But what did my father think, that too much wealth would make me proud, and feared not too great misery would make me desperate? Whilest he was beginning a fresh to renew his complaints & revile his parents, his kinsfolke assembled, who caused him to bridle his lavish tongue, although they mervailed at his pitious tale: For it was well knowne to them all, that Cassander had more mony then halfe the countrey, and loved Callimachus better then his own selfe.

Callimachus by the importunitie of his allies, repressed his rage, setting order for all thinges requisite for his fathers funeralles, who being brought with due reverence unto the grave, hee returned home, making a short Inventorie to his fathers long Wil. And having made ready money of such movables as were in his house, putte both them and his house into his purse, resolving now with him-selfe in this extremitie, eyther with the hazarde of his labour to gayne wealth, or by mysfortune to seeke death, accompting it great shame to live with-out travell, as griefe to bee left with-out treasure, and although hee were earnestly entreated, as well by good proffers of gentle perswasions to weane him-selfe from so desolate, or rather desperate lyfe, hee would not hearken eyther to his owne commodities or their counselles: For seeing (sayd hee) I am left heyre to all the worlde, I meane to execute my authoritie, and clayme my lands in all places of the world. Who now so rich as Callimachus? Who had as many revenues every where as in his owne countrey? Thus beeyng in a readines to departe, apparrelled in all coulours, as one fitte for all companies, and willing to see all countries, journyed three or foure dayes verye devoutlye lyke a pilgrime, who straying out of his pathway, & somwhat weary, not used to such day-labours, rested him-self uppon the side of a silver streame, even almost in the grisping of the evening, where thinking to steale a nappe, beganne to close his eyes. As he was thus between slumbring and waking, he heard one cough pitiously, which caused him to start: and seeing no creature, hee searched diligently in every bushe and under every shrubbe, at the last he lyghted on a little cave, where thrusting in his head more bolde then wise, hee espyed an olde man cladde all in gray, with a head as white as Alablaster, his hoarie beard hanging downe well neere to his knees, with him no earthly creature, saving onelye a Mouse sleeping in a Cattes eare. Over the fyre this good olde man satte, leaning his head to looke into a little earthen vessell which stoode by him.

Callimachus delyghted more then abashed at this straunge sight, thought to see the manner of his hoste, before he would be his guest.

This olde manne immediatelye tooke out of his potte certayne rootes, on the which hee fedde hungerlye, having no other drinke then fayre water. But that which was moste of all to bee considered and noted, the Mouse and the Catte fell to their victualles, beeing such reliques as the olde manne had left, yea and that so lovinglye, as one woulde have thought them both married, judging the Mouse to be verye wilde, or the Cat very tame.

Callimachus coulde not refrayne laughter to beholde the solempne feaste, at the voyce where-of the olde manne arose, and demanded who was there: unto whome Callimachus aunswered: Father, one that wisheth thee both greater cheere and better servaunts: unto whome he replyed, shoaring up his eyes, by yis sonne, I accompt the cheere good, which maintayneth health, and the servauntes honest, whome I finde faythfull. And if thou neyther thinke scorne of my company nor my Cell, enter and welcome: the which offer Callimachus accepted with great thankes, who thought his lodging would be better then his supper.

The next morning the olde manne being very inquisitive of Callimachus what he was, wher he dwelt, and whether he would, Callimachus discoursed with him in perticulers, as before, touching his Fathers death and despite, against whome hee uttered so many bytter and burning wordes, as the olde Hermittes eares gloed to heare them, and my tonge would blyster if I should utter them. More-over he added that he was determined to seeke adventures in straunge lands, and either to fetch the golden fleece by travaile, or susteine the force of Fortune by his owne wilfull follye.

Now Philautus, thou shalt understand that this olde Hermitte, whiche was named also Cassander, was Brother to Callimachus Father, and Uncle to Callimachus, unto whom Cassander had before his death conveyed the summe of tenne thousand poundes, to the use of his sonne in his most extremitie and necessitie, knowing or at the least foreseeing that his young colt will never beare a white mouth with-out a harde bridle. Also hee assured him-selfe that his brother so little tendred money being a professed Hermitte, and so much tendred and esteemed Callimachus, beeing his neere kinsman, as he put no doubt to stand to his devotion.

Cassander this olde Hermitte hearing it to bee Callimachus his Nephewe, and understanding of the death of his brother, dissembled his griefe although he were glad to see thinges happen out so well, and determined with him-selfe to make a Cosinne of his young Nevew, untyll hee had bought witte with the price of woe, wherefore he assayd first to staye him from travell, and to take some other course, more fitte for a Gentleman. And to the intent sayde hee, that I may perswade thee, give ear unto my tale, and this is the tale Philautus that I promised thee, which the Hermitte sitting nowe in the Sunne, began to utter to Callimachus.

WHen I was younge as thou nowe art, I never thought to bee olde, as nowe I am, which caused lustye bloud to attempte those thinges in youth, which akyng boanes have repented in age. I hadde one onely Brother, which also bore my name, being both borne at one tyme as twinnes, but so farre dysagreeing in nature, as hadde not as well the respecte of the just tyme, as also the certeyntie and assuraunce of our Mothers fidelitie, perswaded the worlde wee hadde one Father, it would verye hardelye have beene thought, that such contrarye dispositions coulde well have beene bredde in one wombe, or issued from ones loynes. Yet as out of one and the selfe-same roote, commeth as well the wilde Olyve, as the sweete, and as the Palme Persian Fig tree, beareth as well Apples, as Figs: so our mother thrust into the world at one time, the blossome of gravitie and lyghtnesse.

We were nursed both with one teate, where my brother sucked a desire of thrift, and I of theft: which evidently sheweth that as the breath of the Lyon, engendreth aswell the Serpent, as the Ant: and as the selfe same deaw forceth the Earth to yeelde both the Darnell and Wheat: or as the Easterly winde maketh the blossomes to blast, and the buddes to blowe: so one wombe nourished contrary wits, and one milke divers manners, which argueth something in Nature I know not what, to be mervaylous, I dare not saye monstrous.

As we grew olde in yeares, so began we to be more opposit in opinions: He grave, I gamesome: he studious, I carelesse: he without mirth, and I without modestie.

And verely, had we resembled each other, as little in favour, as we did in fancie, or disagreed as much in shape as we did in sence: I know not what Dedalus would have made a Laborynth for such Monsters, or what Appelles could have couloured such misshapes.

But as the Painter Tamantes could no way expresse the griefe of Agamemnon who saw his onely daughter sacraficed, and therefore drew him with a vale over his face, whereby one might better conceive his anguish, then he colour it: so some Tamantes seeing us, would be constrained with a Curtaine to shadow that deformitie, which no counterfait could portraie lyvely. But nature recompensed the dissimilitude of mindes, with a Sympathy of bodies, for we were in all parts one so like the other, that it was hard to distinguish either in speach, countenaunce, or height, one from the other: saving that either caried the motion of his mind, in his manners, and that the affects of the hart were bewrayed by the eyes, which made us knowen manifestly. For as two Rubies be they never so lyke, yet if they be brought together one staineth the other, so we beeing close one to the other, it was easely to imagine by the face whose vertue deserved most favour, for I could never see my brother, but his gravitie would make me blush, which caused me to resemble the Thrushe, who never singeth in the companye of the Nightingale. For whilest my Brother was in presence, I durst not presume to talke, least his wisedome might have checked my wildnesse: Much lyke to Roscius, who was alwayes dumbe, when he dined with Cato. Our Father being on his death-bed, knew not whom to ordein his heire, being both of one age: to make both, woulde breede as he thought, unquiet: to appoint but one, were as he knew injury: to devide equally, were to have no heire: to impart more to one then to the other, were partiality: to disherite me of his wealth, whom Nature had disherited of wisedome, were against reason: to barre my brother from golde, whome God seemed to endue with grace, were flatte impietie: yet calling us before him, he uttered with watrie eyes, these words.

WEre it not my sonnes, that Nature worketh more in me, then Justice, I should disherite the one of you, who promiseth by his folly to spende all, & leave the other nothing, whose wisedome seemeth to purchase all things. But I well know, that a bitter roote is amended with a sweete graft, and crooked trees prove good Cammocks, and wilde Grapes, make pleasaunt Wine Which perswadeth me, that thou (poynting to me) wilt in age repent thy youthly affections, & learne to dye as well, as thou hast lyved wantonly. As for thee (laying his hande on my brothers head) although I see more then commonly in any of thy yeares, yet knowing that those that give themselves to be bookish, are oftentimes so blockish, that they forget thrift (whereby the olde Saw is verified, that the greatest Clearkes are not the wisest men, who digge still at the roote, while others gather the fruite) I am determined to helpe thee forward, least having nothing thou desire nothing, and so be accompted as no body. He having thus said, called for two bags, the one ful of gold, the other stuft with writings, & casting them both unto us, sayd this: There my sonnes devide all as betweene you it shal be best agreed, and so rendred up his ghoast, with a pitifull grone.

My brother as one that knew his owne good, & my humour, gave me leave to chuse which bag I lyked, at the choice I made no great curiositie, but snatching the gold, let go the writings, which wer as I knew Evidences for land, oblygations for debt, too heavy for me to cary, who determined (as now thou doest Callimachus) to seeke adventures. My pursse now swelling with a timpany, I thought to serch al countries for a remedy, & sent many golden Angels into every quarter of the world, which never brought newes again to their master, being either soared into heaven, wher I cannot fetch them, or sunke into Hell for pride, wher I meane not to follow them. This life I continued the space of xiiii. yeares, until I had visited & viewed every country, & was a stranger in mine owne: but finding no treasure to be wrapped in travell, I returned with more vices, then I went forth with pence, yet with so good a grace, as I was able to sinne both by experience and authoritie, use framing me to the one, and the Countryes to the other. There was no cryme so barbarous, no murther so bloudy, no oath so blasphemous, no vice so execrable, but that I could readely recite where I learned it, and by roate repeate the peculiar crime, of everye perticular Country, Citie, Towne, Village, House, or Chamber.

If I met with one of Creete, I was readye to lye with him for the whetstone. If with a Grecian, I could dissemble with Synon. I could court it with the Italian, carous it with the Dutch-man. I learned al kinde of poysons, yea, and such as were fit for the Popes holynesse. In Aegypt I worshipped their spotted God, at Memphis. In Turkey, their Mahomet. In Rome, their Masse: which gave me not onely a remission for my sinnes past without penaunce, but also a commission to sinne ever after with-out prejudice.

There was no fashion but fitted my backe, no fancie but served my tourne: But now my Barrell of golde, which Pride set a broche, Love began to set a tilte, which in short time ranne so on the lees, that the Divell daunced in the bottome, where he found never a crosse. It were too tedious to utter my whole lyfe in this my Pilgrimage, the remembraunce where-off, doth nothing but double my repentaunce.

Then to growe to an ende, I seeing my money wasted, my apparell worne, my minde infected with as many vices, as my body with diseases, and my bodye with more maladyes, then the Leopard hath markes, having nothing for amends but a few broken languages, which served me in no more steede, then to see one meat served in divers dishes: I thought it best to retourne into my native soyle, where finding my brother as farre now to exceede others in wealth, as hee did me in wit, and that he had gayned more by thrift, then I could spende by pride, I neither envyed his estate, nor pityed mine owne: but opened the whole course of my youth, not thinking there-by to recover that of him by request, which I had lost my selfe by riot, for casting in my minde the miserie of the world with the mischiefes of my life, I determined from that unto my lives end, to lead a solitary life in this cave, which I have don the tearm of ful forty winters, from whence, neither the earnest entreatie of my Brother, nor the vaine pleasures of the world could draw me, neyther shall any thing but death.

Then my good Callimachus, recorde with thy selfe the inconveniences that come by travailing, when on the Seas every storme shall threaten death, and every calme a daunger, when eyther thou shall be compelled to boord others as a pyrate, or feare to be boorded of others as a Marchaunt: when at all times thou must have the back of an Asse to beare all, and the snowt of a swine to say nothing, thy hand on thy cap to shew reverence to every rascall, thy purse open to be prodigall to every Boore, thy sworde in thy sheath, not once daring either to strick or ward, which maketh me think that travailers are not onely framed not to commit injuries, but also to take them. Learne Callimachus of the Byrde Acanthis, who being bredde in the thistles will live in the thistles, and of the Grashopper, who being sproung of the grasse, will rather dye then depart from the grasse. I am of this minde with Homer, that as the Snayle that crept out of hir shell was turned eftsoones into a Toad, and therby was forced to make a stoole to sit on, disdaining hir own house: so the Travailer that stragleth from his own countrey, is in short tyme transformed into so monstrous a shape, that hee is faine to alter his mansion with his manners, and to live where he canne, not where he would. What did Ulysses wish in the middest of his travailing, but onely to see the smoake of his owne Chymnie? Did not all the Romaines saye that he that wandered did nothing els but heap sorowes to his friends, and shame to himself, and resembled those that seeking to light a Lynke, quenched a Lamp, imitating the barbarous Gothes, who thought the rootes in Alexandria, sweeter then the resons in Barbary: But he that leaveth his own home, is worthy no home. In my opinion it is a homely kinde of dealing to preferre the curtesie of those he never knew, before the honesty of those among whom he was born: he that cannot live with a grot in his own country, shal never enjoy a penny in an other nation. Litle dost thou know Callimachus with what wood travaileers are warmed, who must sleepe with their eies open, least they be suspected by their lookes, and eat with their mouths close, least they be poysoned with theyr meates. Where if they wax wealthy, they shall be envied, not loved: If poore punished, not pittied: If wise, accounted espials: If foolish, made drudges. Every Gentle-man will be their peere though they be noble, and every pesaunt their Lord if they be gentle: Hee therefore that leaveth his own house to seeke adventures, is like the Quaile that forsaketh the Malowes to eat Hemlock, or the Fly that shunneth the Rose, to light in a cowshard. No Callimachus, there wil no Mosse sticke to the stone of Sisiphus, no grasse hang on heeles of Mercury, no butter cleave on the bread of a travailer. For as the Egle at every flight looseth a fether, which maketh hir bald in hir age: so the travailer in every country looseth some fleece, which maketh him a begger in his youth, buying that with a pound, which he cannot sell againe for a penny, repentaunce. But why go I about to disswade thee from that, which I my self followed, or to perswade thee to that which thou thy selfe flyest? My gray haires are like unto a white frost, thy read bloud not unlike unto a hot fyre: so that it cannot be that either thou shouldest follow my counsell, or I allow thy conditions: such a quarrel hath ther alwaies bin betwene the grave & the cradle, that he that is young thinketh the olde man fond, and the olde knoweth the young man to be a foole. But Callimachus, for the towardnes I see in thee, I must needs love thee, & for thy frowardnes, of force counsel thee: & do in the same sort, as Phoebus did that daring boy Phaeton. Thou goest about a great matter, neither fit for thy yeares being very young, nor thy profit being left so poore, thou desirest that which thou knowest not, neither can any performe that which thou seemest to promise. If thou covet to travaile straunge countries, search the Maps, there shalt thou see much, with great pleasure & smal paines, if to be conversant in al courts, read histories, where thou shalt understand both what the men have ben, & what their maners are, & me thinketh ther must be much delight, when ther is no danger. And if thou have any care either of the greene bud which springeth out of the tender stalke, or the timely fruite which is to grow of so good a roote, seeke not to kill the one, or hasten the other: but let time so work that grafts may be gathered off the tree, rather then sticks to burn. And so I leave thee, not to thy self, but to him that made thee, who guid thee with his grace, whether thou go as thou wouldest, or tarry at home as thou shouldest.

Callimachus obstinate in his fond conceit, was so far from being perswaded by this old Hermit, that he rather made it a greater occasion of his pilgrimage, & with an answer betwen scorning and resoning, he replied thus.

Father or friend (I know not verye well howe to tearme you) I have beene as attentive to heare your good discourse, as you were willing to utter it: yet mee thinketh you deale marvailouslye with youth, in seeking by sage counsell to put graye hayres on their chins, before nature hath given them almost any hayres on their heades: where-in you have gone so farre, that in my opinion your labour had bene better spent in travailing where you have not lyved, then in talking wher you cannot be beleeved. You have bene a Travailer and tasted nothing but sowre, therefore who-soever travaileth, shall eate of the same sauce: an Argument it is, that your fortune was ill, not that others should be as bad, and a warning to make you wise, not a warning to prove others unfortunate. Shal a souldier that hath received a skar in the battaile, give out that all warriours shall be maymed? Or the Marchaunt that hath lost by the Seas, be a cause that no other should venture, or a travailer that hath sustained harm by sinister fortune, or bene infected by his own folly, disswade al Gentlemen to rest at their own home till they come to their long home? Why then let al men abstaine from wine, bicause it made Alexander tipsie, let no man love a woman for that Tarquine was banished, let not a wise man play at al, for that a foole hath lost al: which in my minde would make such medly, that wee should bee enforced to leave things that were best, for feare they may bee badde, and that were as fond as not to cut ones meate with that knife that an other hath cut his finger. Things are not to be judged by the event, but by the ende, nor travailing to be condemned by yours or manies unluckie successe, but by the common and most approved wisdome of those that canne better shew what it is then I, and will better speake of it then you doe.

Where you alledge Ulisses that he desired nothing so much, as to see the smoake of Ithaca, it was not b icause he loved not to travaile, but that he longed to see his wife after his travaile: and greater commendation brought his travail to him, then his wit: the one taught but to speake, the other what he should speake. And in this you tourne the poynt of your owne bodkin into your owne bosome. Ulisses was no lesse esteemed for knowledge he had of other countryes, then for the revenewes he had in his own, & wher in the ende, you seeme to refer me to the viewing of Maps, I was never of that minde to make my ship in a Painters shop, which is lyke those, who have great skill in a wodden Globe, but never behold the Skie. And he that seeketh to bee a cunning travailer by seeing the Mappes, and an expert Astronomer, by turning the Globe, may be an Apprentice for Appelles, but no Page for Ulisses.

Another reason you bring, that travailing is costly: I speake for my selfe. He that hath lyttle to spende, hath not much to lose, and he that hath nothing in his owne countrey, can-not have lesse in any.

Would you have me spend the floure of my youth, as you doe the withered rase of your age? can the faire bloude of youth creepe into the ground as it were frost bitten? No Father Hermit, I am of Alexanders minde, if there were as many worlds, as there be cities in the world, I would never leave untill I had seene all the worlds, and each citie in everie world. Therefore to be short, nothing shall alter my minde, neither penny nor Pater noster.

This olde man seeing him so resolute, resolved to let him depart, and gave him this Fare-well.

MY good sonne though thou wilt not suffer mee to perswade thee, yet shalt thou not let mee to pittie thee, yea and to pray for thee: but the tyme will come when comming home by weeping crosse, thou shalt confesse, that it is better to be at home in the cave of an Hermit then abroad in the court of an Emperour, and that a crust with quietnesse, shall be better then Quayles with unrest. And to the ende thou maist prove my sayings as true, as I know thy selfe to bee wilfull, take the paines to retourne by this poore Cel, where thy fare shall be amended, if thou amende thy fault, and so farewell.

Callimachus courteously tooke his leave, and went his waye: but we will not leave him till we have him againe, at the Cell, where we found him.

NOw Philautus and Gentlemen all, suppose that Callimachus had as il fortune, as ever had any, his minde infected with his body, his time consumed with his treasure: nothing won, but what he cannot loose though he would, Miserie. You must imagine (bicause it were too long to tell all his journey) that he was Sea sicke, (as thou beginnest to be Philautus) that he hardly escaped death, that he endured hunger and colde, heate with-out drinke, that he was entangled with women, entraped, deceived, that every stoole he sate on, was penniles bench, that his robes were rags, that he had as much neede of a Chirurgian as a Phisition, and that thus he came home to the Cell, and with shame and sorrow, began to say as followeth.

I Finde too late yet at length that in age there is a certeine foresight, which youth can not search, and a kinde of experience, unto which unripened yeares cannot come: so that I must of necessitie confesse, that youth never raineth wel, but when age holdeth the bridell, you see (my good father) what I would say by outward shew, and I neede not tell what I have tryed, bicause before you tolde me I shoulde finde it: this I say, that whatsoever miserie happened either to you or any, the same hath chaunced to me alone. I can say no more, I have tryed no lesse.

The olde Hermit glad to see this ragged Colte retourned, yet grieved to see him so tormented, thought not to adde sower words to augment his sharp woes, but taking him by the hande, and sitting down, began after a solempn manner, from the beginning to the ende, to discourse with him of his fathers affaires, even after the sort that before I rehearsed, and delyvered unto him his money, thinking now that miserie woulde make him thriftie, desiring also, that aswell for the honour of his Fathers house, as his owne credite, hee would retourne againe to the Islande, and there be a comfort to his friends, and a reliefe to his poore neighbours, which woulde be more worth then his wealth, and the fulfilling of his Fathers last Will.

Callimachus not a little pleased with this tale, & I thinke not much displeased with the golde, gave such thankes, as to such a friend appertained, and following the counsel of his unckle, which ever after he obeyed as a commaundement, he came to his owne house, lived long with great wealth, and as much worship as any one in Scyrum, and whether he be now lyving, I know not, but whether he be or no, it skilleth not.

Now Philautus, I have tolde this tale, to this ende, not that I thinke travailing to be ill if it be used wel, but that such advice be taken, yet the horse carry not his own bridle, nor youth rule himself in his own conceits. Besides that, such places are to be chosen, wher-in to inhabit as are as commendable for vertue, as buildings: where the miners are more to be marked, then, the men seene. And this was my whole drift, either never to travaile, or so to travaile, as although the pursse be weakened, the minde may be strengthened. For not he that hath seene most countries is most to be esteemed, but he that learned best conditions: for not so much are the scituation of the places to be noted, as the vertues of the persons. Which is contrarie to the common practise of our travailers, who goe either for gaine, and returne with-out knowledge, or for fashion sake, and come home with-out pietie: Whose estates are as much to be lamented, as their follyes are to be laughed at.

This causeth youth, to spende their golden time, with-out either praise or profit, pretending a desire of learning, when they onely followe loytering. But I hope our travell shal be better employed, seeing vertue is the white we shoote at, not vanitie: neither the English tongue (which as I have heard is almost barbarous) but the English manners, which as I thinke are most precise. And to thee Philautus I begin to addresse my speach, having made an end of mine hermits tale, and if these few precepts I give thee be observed, then doubt not but we both shall learne that we best lyke. And these they are.

AT thy comming into England be not too inquisitive of newes, neither curious in matters of State, in assemblies aske no questions, either concerning manners or men. Be not lavish of thy tongue, either in causes of weight, least thou shew thy selfe as a espyall, or in wanton talke, least thou prove thy selfe a foole.

It is the Nature of that country to sift straungers: every one that shaketh thee by the hand, is not joyned to thee in heart. They thinke Italians wanton, & Grecians subtill, they will trust neither they are so incredulous: but undermine both, they are so wise. Be not quarrellous for every lyght occasion: they are impatient in their anger of any equal, readie to revenge an injury, but never wont to profer any: they never fight without provoking, & once provoked they never cease. Beware thou fal not into the snares of love, the women there are wise, the men craftie: they will gather love by thy lookes, and picke thy minde out of thy hands. It shal be there better to heare what they say, then to speak what thou thinkest: They have long ears and short tongues, quicke to heare, and slow to utter, broad eyes, and light fingers, ready to espy and apt to stricke. Every straunger is a marke for them to shoote at: yet this must I say which in no country I can tell the like, that it is as seldome to see a straunger abused there, as it is rare to see anye well used els where: yet presume not too much of the curtesies of those, for they differ in natures, some are hot, some cold, one simple, and the other wilie, yet if thou use a few words and fayre speaches, thou shalt commaund any thing thou standes in neede of.

Touching the situation of the soile I have read in my studie, which I partly beleeve (having no worse Author then Caesar) yet at my comming, when I shal conferre the thinges I see, with those I have read, I will judge accordingly. And this have I heard, that the inner parte of Brittaine is inhabited by such as were born and bred in the Isle, and the Sea-choast by such as have passed thether out of Belgick to search booties & to make war. The country is mervailouslye replenished with people, and there be many buildings almost like in fashion to the buildings of Gallia, there is great store of cattell, the coyn they use is either of brasse or els rings of Iron, sised at a certain weight in steede of money. In the inner parts of the Realme groweth tinne, and in the sea coast groweth yron. The brasse that they occupy is brought in from beyond-sea. The ayre is more temperate in those places then in Fraunce, and the colde lesser. The Island is in fashion three cornered, wher-of one side is toward Fraunce, the one corner of this side which is in Kent, where for the most part Shippes arive out of Fraunce, is in the East, and the other nethermore, is towardes the South. This side containeth about five hundred miles, an other side lyeth toward Spain and the Sunne going down, on the which side is Ireland, lesse then Brittain as is supposed by the one halfe: but the cut betweene them, is like the distaunce that is betweene Fraunce and Brittaine.

In the middest of this course is an Island called Man, the length of this side is (according to the opinion of the Inhabiters) seven hundred miles. The third side is northward, & against it lyeth no land, but the poynt of that side butteth most uppon Germany. This they esteeme to be eight hundred miles long, and so the circuit of the whole Island is two thousand miles. Of al the Inhabitants of this Isle, the Kentish men are most civilest, the which country marcheth altogether upon the sea, & differeth not greatly from the maner of France. They that dwell more in the hart of the Realme sow corne, but live by milk and flesh, and cloth themselves in lether. All the Brittaines doe die them-selves with woad, which setteth a blewish coulour upon them, and it maketh them more terrible to beholde in battaile. They weare their hayre long and shave all partes of their bodyes, saving the head and the upper lippe. Divers other uses and customes are among them, as I have read Philautus: But whether these be true or no, I wil not say: for me thinketh an Island so well governed in peace then, and so famous in victories, so fertile in all respects, so wholsome and populous, must needes in the terme of a thousand yeares be much better, and I beleeve we shall finde it such, as we never read the like of any, and until we arrive there, we wil suspend our judgementes: Yet do I meane at my returne from thence to draw the whole discription of the Land, the customes, the nature of the people, the state, the government, & whatsoever deserveth either mervaile or commendation.

Philautus not accustomed to these narrow Seas, was more redy to tell what wood the ship was made of, then to aunswer to Euphues discourse: yet between waking and winking, as, one halfe sicke and some-what sleepy, it came in his braynes, aunswered thus.

In fayth Euphues thou hast told a long tale, the beginning I have forgotten, the middle I understand not, and the end hangeth not together: therfore I cannot repeat it as I would, nor delight in it as I ought: yet if at our arrivall thou wilt renew thy tale, I will rub my memorie: in the meane season, would I wer either again in Italy, or now in England. I cannot brook these Seas, which provoke my stomack sore. I have an appetite, it wer best for me to take a nap, for every word is brought forth with a nod.

Euphues replied. I cannot tell Philautus whether the Sea make thee sicke, or she that was borne of the Se : if the first, thou hast a quesie stomacke: if the latter, a wanton desire. I wel beleve thou remembrest nothing that may doe thee good, nor forgettest any thing which can do thee harme, making more of a soare then a plaister, and wishing rather to be curssed then cured, where-in thou agreest with those which having taken a surfet, seeke the meanes rather to sleepe then purge, or those that having the greene sicknes, & are brought to deaths dore follow their own humour, and refuse the Phisitions remedy. And such Philautus is thy desease, who pining in thine owne follies, chusest rather to perish in love, then to live in wisdome, but what-soever be the cause, I wish the effect may answer my friendly care: then doubtles you shalt neither die being seasick, or doat being love sick. I would the Sea could aswel purge thy mind of fond conceits, as thy body of grose humours. Thus ending, Philautus againe begun to urge.

Without dout Euphues you dost me great wrong, in seeking a skar in a smoth skin, thinking to stop a vain wher none opened, and to cast love in my teeth, which I have already spit out of my mouth, which I must needes thinke proceedeth rather for lacke of matter, then any good meaning, els woldest thou never harp on that string which is burst in my hart, and yet ever sounding in thy eares. Thou art like those that procure one to take phisick before he be sick, and to apply a searcloth to his bodye, when he feeleth no ach, or a vomit for a surfet, when his stomacke is empty. If ever I fall to mine old Byas, I must put thee in the fault that talkes of it, seeing thou didst put me in the minde to think of it, wher-by thou seemest to blow the cole which thou woldest quench, setting a teene edge, wher thou desirest to have a sharp poynt, ymping a fether to make me flye, when thou oughtest rather to cut my wing for feare of a soaring.

Lucilla is dead, and she upon whome I gesse thou harpest is forgotten: the one not to be redeemed, the other not to be thought on: Then good Euphues wring not a horse on the withers, with a false saddle, neither imagin what I am by thy thoughts, but by mine own doings: so shalt thou have me both willing to followe good counsell, and able hereafter to give thee comfort. And so I rest halfe sleepy with the Seas.

With this aunswere Euphues held him-self content, but as much wearyed with talke as the other was with travaile, made a pyllow of his hand, and there let them both sleepe their fill and dreame with their fancies, untill either a storme cause them to wake, or their hard beds, or their journies ende.

Thus for the space of an eight weekes Euphues & Philautus sailed on the seas, from their first shipping, betwen whome divers speaches were uttered, which to resite were nothing necessary in this place, & weighing the circumstances, scarse expedient, what tempests they endured, what strang sights in the element, what monstrous fishes were seene, how often they were in daunger of drowning, in feare of boording, how wearie, how sick, how angrie, it were tedious to write, for that whosoever hath either read of travailing, or himselfe used it, can sufficiently gesse what is to be sayd. And this I leave to the judgement of those that in the like journey have spent their time from Naples to England, for if I should faine more then others have tryed, I might be thought too Poeticall: if lesse, partiall: therefore I omit the wonders, the Rockes, the markes, the goulfes, and whatsoever they passed or saw, least I should trouble divers with things they know, or may shame my selfe, with things I know not. Lette this suffice, that they are safely come within a ken of Dover, which the Master espying, with a cheerefull voyce waking them, began to utter these words unto them.

GEntlemen and friends, the longest Summers day hath his evening, Ulisses arriveth at last, & rough windes in time bring the ship to safe Road. We are now within foure houres sayling of our Haven, and as you wil thinke of an earthly heaven. Yonder white Cliffes which easely you may perceive, are Dover hils, where unto is adjoyning a strong and famous Castle, into the which Julius Caesar did enter, where you shall view many goodly monuments, both straunge & auncient. Therefore pull up your harts, this merry winde will immediately bring us to an easie bayte.

Philautus was glad he slept so long, and was awaked in so good time, beeing as weary of the seas, as he that never used them. Euphues not sorrowfull of this good newes, began to shake his cares, and was soone apparailed. To make short, the windes were so favorable, the Mariners so skilfull, the waye so short, that I feare me they will lande before I can describe the manner how, and therefore suppose them now in Dover Towne in the noble Isle of England, somwhat benighted, & more apt to sleepe then suppe. Yet for manners sake they enterteined their Master & the rest of the Merchants and Marriners, wher having in due time both recorded their travailes past, and ended their repast, every one went to his lodging, where I wil leave them soundly sleeping untill the next day.

The next day they spent in viewing the Castle of Dover, the Pyre, the Cliffes, the Road, and Towne, receiving as much pleasure by the sight of auncient monuments, as by their curteous enterteinment, no lesse praising the persons for their good mindes, then the place for the goodly buildings: & in this sort they refreshed themselves 3, or 4, daies, until they had digested the seas, & recovered again their healths, yet so warely they behaved themselves, as they wer never heard, either to enquire of any newes, or point to any fortres, beholding the bulwarkes with a slight & careles regard, but the other places of peace, with admiration. Folly it wer to shew what they saw, seing heereafter in the description of England, it shall most manifestly appeare. But I will set them forwarde in their journey, where now with-in this two houres, we shall finde them in Caunterbury.

Travailing thus like two Pilgrimes, they thought it most necessary to direct their steppes toward London, which they hard was the most royall seat of the Queene of England. But first they came to Caunterbury, an olde Citie, somewhat decayed, yet beautiful to behold, most famous for a Cathedrall Church, the very Majestie whereoff, stroke them into a maze, where they saw many monuments, and heard tell of greater, then either they ever saw, or easely would beleeve.

After they had gone long, seeing them-selves almost benighted, determined to make the nexte house their Inne, and espying in their way even at hande a very pleasaunt garden, drew neere: where they sawe a comely olde man as busie as a Bee among his Bees, whose countenaunce bewrayed his conditions: this auncient Father, Euphues greeted in this manner.

FAther, if the courtesie of Englande be aunswerable in the custome of Pilgrimes, then will the nature of the Countrey, excuse the boldnesse of straungers: our request is to have such enterteinment, beeing almost tyred with travaile, not as divers have for acquaintaunce, but as all men have for their money, which curtesie if you graunt, we will ever remaine in your debt, although every way discharge our due: and rather we are importunate, for that we are no lesse delighted with the pleasures of your garden, then the sight of your gravitie. Unto whom the olde man sayd.

GEntlemen, you are no lesse I perceive by your manners, and you can be no more beeing but men, I am neither so uncourteous to mislyke your request not so suspicious to mistrust your truthes, although it bee no lesse perillous to be secure, then peevish to be curious. I keepe no victualling, yet is my house an Inne, & I an Hoste to every honest man, so far as they with courtesie wil, & I may with abilytie. Your enterteinment shal be as smal for cheere, as your acquaintaunce is for time, yet in my house ye may happely finde some one thing cleanly, nothing courtly: for that wisedome provideth things necessarie, not superfluous, & age seeketh rather a Modicum for sustenaunce, then feastes for surfets. But until some thing may be made ready, might I be so bold as enquire your names, countreys, and the cause of your pilgrimage, where-in if I shalbe more inquisitive then I ought, let my rude birth excuse my bolde request, which I will not urge as one importunate (I might say) impudent.

Euphues, seeing this fatherly and friendlye Sire, (whom we will name Fidus) to have no lesse inwarde courtesie, then outward comelynesse, conjectured (as well he might) that the profer of his bountie, noted the noblenesse of his birth, beeing wel assured that as no Thersites could be transformed into Ulisses, so no Alexander could be couched in Damocles.

Thinking therefore now with more care and advisednesse to temper his talke, least either he might seeme foolysh or curious, he aunswered him, in these termes.

GOod sir, you have bound us unto you with a double chaine, the one in pardoning our presumption, the other in graunting our peticion. Which great & undeserved kindenesse, though we can-not requit with the lyke, yet if occasion shall serve, you shall finde us heereafter as willing to make amends, as we are now ready to give thankes.

Touching your demaunds, we are not so unwise to mislyke them, or so ungratefull to deny them, least in concealing our names, it might be thought for some trespasse, and covering our pretence, we might be suspected of treason. Know you then sir, that this Gentleman my fellow, is called Philautus, I Euphues: he an Italian, I a Grecian: both sworne friendes by just tryall, both Pilgrimes by free will. Concerninge the cause of our comming into this Islande, it was onely to glue our eyes to our eares, that we might justifie those things by sight, which we have oftentimes with incredible admiration understoode by hearing: to wit, the rare qualyties as well of the body as the minde, of your most dreade Sovereigne and Queene, the brute of the which hath filled every corner of the worlde, insomuch as there is nothing that moveth either more matter or more mervaile then hir excellent majestie, which fame when we saw, with-out comparison, and almost above credit, we determined to spend some parte of our time and treasure in the English court, where if we coulde finde the reporte but to be true in halfe, wee shoulde not onelye thinke our money and travayle well employed, but returned with interest more then infinite. This is the onely ende of our comming, which we are nothing fearefull to utter, trusting as well to the curtesie of your countrey, as the equitie of our cause.

Touching the court, if you can give us any instructions, we shal think the evening wel spent, which procuring our delight, can no way worke your disliking.

GEntlemen (aunswered this olde man) if bicause I entertaine you, you seeke to undermin me, you offer me great discurtesie: you must needes thinke me verye simple, or your selves very subtill, if upon so small acquaintaunce I should answer to such demands, as are neither for me to utter being a subject, nor for you to know being straungers. I keepe hives for Bees, not houses for busibodies (pardon me Gentlemen, you have moved my patience) & more welcome shal a wasp be to my honny, then a privy enimy to my house. If the rare reporte of my most gracious Ladye have brought you hether, mee thinketh you have done very ill to chuse such a house to confirme your mindes, as seemeth more like a prison then a pallace, where-by in my opinion, you meane to derogate from the worthines of the person by the vilnes of the place, which argueth your pretences to savor of malice more then honest meaning. They use to consult of Jove in the Capitol, of Caesar, in the senat, of our noble Queene, in hir owne court. Besides that, Alexander must be painted of none but Appelles, nor engraven of any but Lisippus, not our Elizabeth set forth of every one that would in duety, which are all, but of those that can in skyll, which are fewe, so furre hath nature overcome arte, and grace eloquence, that the paynter draweth a vale over that he cannot shaddow, and the Orator holdeth a paper in his hand, for that he cannot utter. But whether am I wandring, rapt farther by devotion then I can wade through with discretion. Cease then Gentle-men and know this, that an English-man learneth to speake of menne, and to holde his peace of the Gods. Enquire no farther then beseemeth you, least you heare that which can-not like you. But if you thinke the time long before your repast, I wil finde some talk which shall breede your dlight touching my Bees.

And here Euphues brake him off, and replyed: though not as bitterly as he would, yet as roundlye as he durst, in this manner.

We are not a little sory syr, not that we have opened our mindes, but that we are taken amisse, and where we meant so well, to be entreated so ill, having talked of no one thing, unlesse it be of good wil towards you, whome we reverenced for age, and of dutye towarde your Sovereigne, whom we mervailed at for vertue: which good meaning of ours misconstrued by you, hath bread such a distemperature in our heads, that we are fearfull to praise hir, whom al the world extolleth, and suspitious to trust you, whom above any in the worlde we loved. And wheras your greatest argument is, the basenes of your house, me thinketh that maketh most against you. Caesar never rejoyced more, then when hee heard that they talked of his valyant exploits in simple cotages, alledging this, that a bright Sunne shineth in every corner, which maketh not the beames worse, but the place better. When (as I remember) Agesilaus sonne was set at the lower end of the table, & one cast it in his teeth as a shame, he answered: this is the upper end where I sit, for it is not the place that maketh the person, but the person that maketh the place honorable. When it was told Alexander that he was much praysed of a Myller, I am glad, quoth he, that there is not so much as a Miller but loveth Alexander. Among other fables, I call to my remembrance one, not long, but apt, and as simple as it is, so fit it is, that I cannot omit it for that opportunitie of the time, though I might over-leap it for the basenesse of the matter. When all the Birds wer appointed to meete to talke of the Eagle, there was great contention, at whose nest they should assemble, every one willing to have it at his own home, one preferring the nobilitie of his birth, an other the statelynes of his building: some would have it for one qualitie, some for an other: at the last the Swalow, said they should come to his nest (being commonly of filth) which all the Birds disdaining, sayd: why thy house is nothing els but durt, and therfore aunswered the Swalow would I have talke there of the Eagle: for being the basest, the name of an Eagle wil make it the bravest. And so good father may I say of thy cotage, wich thou seemest to account of so homly, that moving but spech of thy Sovereigne, it will be more like a court then a cabin, and of a prison the name of Elizabeth wil make it a pallace. The Image of a Prince stampt in copper goeth as currant, and a Crow may cry Ave Caesar with-out any rebuke.

The name of a Prince is like the sweete deaw, which falleth as well uppon lowe shrubbes, as hygh trees, and resembleth a true glasse, where-in the poore maye see theyr faces with the rych, or a cleare streame where-in all maye drincke that are drye: not they onelye that are wealthy. Where you adde, that wee shoulde feare to move anye occasion touching talke of so noble a Prince, truly our reverence taketh away the feare of suspition. The Lambe feareth not the Lion, but the Wolfe: the Partridge dreadeth not the Eagle, but the Hawke: a true and faythfull heart standeth more in awe of his superior whom he loveth for feare, then of his Prince whom he feareth for love. A cleere conscience needeth no excuse, nor feareth any accusation. Lastly you conclude, that neither arte nor heart can so set forth your noble Queene as she deserveth. I graunt it, and rejoyce at it, and that is the cause of our comming to see hir, whom none can sufficiently commend: and yet doth it not follow, that bicause wee cannot give hir as much as she is worthy off, therefore wee should not owe hir any. But in this we will imitate the olde paynters in Greece, who drawing in theyr Tables the portraiture of Jupiter, were every houre mending it, but durst never finish it: And being demaunded why they beganne that, which they could not ende, they aunswered, in that we shew him to bee Jupiter, whome every one may beginne to paynt, but none can perfect. In the lyke manner meane we to drawe in parte the prayses of hir, whome we cannot throughly portraye, and in that we signifie hir to be Elyzabeth. Who enforceth every man to do as much as he can, when in respect of hir perfection, it is nothing. For as he that beholdeth the Sunne stedfastly, thinking ther-by to describe it more perfectly, hath his eies so daseled, that he can discerne nothing, so fareth it with those that seeke marveilously to praise those, that are without the compasse of their judgements, & al comparison, that the more they desire, the lesse they discern, & the neerer they think them selves in good wil, the farther they finde themselves of in wisdom, thinking to mesure that by the ynch, which they cannot reach with the ell. And yet father, it can be neither hurtful to you, nor hateful to your Prince, to here the commendation of a straunger, or to aunswere his honest request, who will wish in heart no lesse glorye to hir, then you doe: although they can wish no more. And therfore me thinketh you have offered a little discourtesie, not to aunswere us, and to suspect us, great injury: having neither might to attempt any thing which may do you harme, nor malice to revenge, wher we finde helpe.For mine owne part this I say, & for my friend present the lyke I dar sweare, how boldly I can-not tell, how truely I know: that there is not any one3, whether he be bound by benefit or duetie, or both: whether linked by zeale, or time, or bloud, or al: that more humbly reverenceth hir Majestie, or mervaileth at hir wisedome, or prayeth for hir long prosperous and glorious Reigne, then we then whom we acknowledge none more simple, and yet dare avowe, none more faithfull. Which we speake not to get service by flatterie, but to acquite our selves of suspition, by faith: which is al that either a Prince can require of his subject, or a vassal yeeld to his Sovereign, and that which we owe to your Queene, & all others should offer, that either for feare of punishment dare not offend, or for love of vertue, will not.