BOETHIUS' CONSOLATION OF 
 
 PHILOSOPHY 
 
 GEORGE COLVILLE 
 
* # * Two hundred and fifty copies of this Edition are printed. 
 
%l)t i:utior ^Library, 
 
 v. 
 
 BOETHIUS' CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY. 
 
List of previous Volumes' in the Tudor Library. 
 
 i. Sir Thomas More's Giovanni Pico della Mirandola. 
 Edited by J. M. RlGG. Pages xl and 95. \os. 6d. 
 
 2. Angell Daye's Daphnis and Chloe. Edited by Joseph 
 Jacobs. Pages xxxi and 155. 10s. 6d. 
 
 ,3. Francesco Colonna's Strife of Love in a Dream (the first 
 book of the Hybnerotomachia). Edited by Andrew 
 Lang. Pages xvii and 248. 21s. 
 
 J 4. Narcissus, a Twelfe Night Merriment, played by youths 
 of the Parish in the College of St. John the Baptist, Oxford, 
 a.d. 1602. Now first edited by Margaret L. Lee. Pages 
 xxxii and 51. js. 6d. 
 
 In the Press. 
 Gismond OF Salerne in Love. Facsimile reprint from the 
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) BOETHIUS' CONSOLATION 
 
 OF PHILOSOPHY 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN BY 
 
 GEORGE COLVILLE 
 
 1556 
 
 EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 ERNEST BELFORT BAX 
 
 LONDON 
 
 PUBLISHED BY DAVID NUTT IN THE STRAND 
 
 MDCCCXCYII. 
 5 
 
 *b 
 
B 
 
 it'll 
 
 A 
 
 
 Sa-\0' 
 
 CHISWICK TRESS : — CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 toCSg ^HE author of the De Consolatione Philo- 
 sophiae lived during a critical period of 
 one of those great divides of history 
 where the moribund old and the as yet 
 inchoate new are blended in a tangle 
 almost defying the efforts of the critic 
 to unravel. The bright sunlight of Augustan historic 
 literature had given place to a rapidly deepening twilight 
 soon to become the midnight of the " Dark Ages." 
 Boethius personally occupies a unique position as the 
 last representative of ancient Latin literature — the end of 
 the line of which Ennius was the starting-point and 
 which culminated in the great world-literature of the 
 Augustan period. The fall of the Roman Empire of the 
 West may well have been the first event borne in upon 
 Boethius's early intelligence, and his growing youth 
 would almost certainly witness the struggle of the last 
 outpost of the ancient world-power. A portion of Gaul 
 was held under the Eagles for ten years longer, with 
 Syagrius for its Imperator, until the victorious com- 
 panions of Chlodowig overran that one remaining oasis 
 of pure Roman Civilization in Western Europe. The 
 field was thus left free for the expansion of Germanic 
 Barbarism into the polity of the Middle Ages and, by the 
 
 vii 
 
time Boethius had reached manhood, the final hindrance 
 was removed to the already-growing dominion of the 
 Papacy. It is curious, as regards the former of these 
 two facts, to note that the cause of the revolt against 
 Romulus Augustulus, the son of the prefect Orestes, was 
 the refusal of the demand of the barbarians that they 
 should be allotted a third of the lands of Italy to be 
 held on a tenure of military service. As regards the 
 second point, the myth is significant which gives the 
 indulgence in a Papal intrigue with the court of Con- 
 stantinople as the cause of Boethius's disgrace with 
 Theodoric. 
 
 While on the one side we see the new nations, repre- 
 sented by the Goths, introducing barbaric customs and 
 social forms from the north, we must not forget that 
 Rome at this time, and probably for more than a century 
 later, was in externals still mainly the old classical Rome. 
 The absurd belief so long current that " the Goths and 
 the Vandals " were the destroyers of ancient architecture 
 and ancient art has now been entirely exploded for 
 serious students of history. Apart from the fortunes of 
 war, there is no ground whatever for conceiving that the 
 barbarians were guilty of any special acts of destruction. 
 As Gregorovius and other modern scholars have observed, 
 it is probable enough that the Goths, like other warriors 
 on plunder bent, rifled some of the smaller works of art 
 for the sake of their gold, silver or precious stones, but 
 with the larger works, such as statuary, and above all, 
 architecture, we have reason to believe that the injury 
 they did on their campaigns was comparatively trifling. 
 Theodoric himself always showed a laudable desire to 
 preserve the monuments of the city in their integrity. 
 What Rome was like in his time may be gathered from a 
 
 viii 
 
passage in Cassiodorus (Var. viii. 1 3), " Nam quid populus 
 copiosissimus statuarum, greges etiam abundissimi equo- 
 rum sunt cautela servandi." This quotation alone affords 
 us positive evidence of the artistic wealth of Rome after the 
 barbarian invasions. The real destroyer of the classical 
 art of the Italian cities was not the much culumniated 
 "Vandalism" of the Northerners, or even to any large 
 extent the zeal of the Christians, as such, but the greed of 
 the inhabitants themselves, and doubtless amongst them 
 many families proud to claim a long patrician pedigree. 
 For centuries, the practice of dismantling ancient buildings 
 and plundering statuary in order to use the materials for 
 building purposes was ruthlessly carried on, and through- 
 out the early Middle Ages the vast lime-kilns of Rome 
 and its neighbourhood were fed by the treasures of anti- 
 quity. This abominable custom appears to have begun 
 as early as the middle of the fifth century. One of the 
 last of the Roman Emperors of the West, Marjorian, in 
 his celebrated edict, promulgates the severest penalties 
 against all who- destroy or mutilate monuments of the 
 city, and more especially against public functionaries who 
 give permission or facilities for so doing. 
 
 The full names of our author seem to have been 
 Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, which last name 
 was sometimes, and perhaps more correctly, written 
 Boetius. The name Flavius has been inserted by con- 
 jecture on the ground that his father and grandfather 
 bore it ; also that of Torquatus has been suggested. 
 But neither are to be found in the best manuscripts. 
 The year of his birth is generally given as a.d. 475, but 
 this is only a hypothetical date, and others have been 
 put forward, amongst them 455. No sufficient evidence 
 is forthcoming for deciding the point. 
 
 ix b 
 
The Anician gens having been prominent for many 
 generations amongst the bluest blood of patrician and 
 senatorial Rome, we may fairly assume that the metropolis 
 of the West was the birthplace of Boethius. At the death 
 of his father, Flavius Manlius Boethius, consul in 487, he 
 was adopted, as he tells us himself, by persons of influence 
 in Rome. One theory suggests that his grandfather was 
 Flavius Boethius, the praetorian praefect executed by 
 Valentinian's orders in 455. 
 
 He married Rusticiana, the daughter of the senator 
 Symmachus, and had by her two sons, Anicius Manlius 
 Severinus Boethius, and Quintus Aurelius Memmius 
 Symmachus. The importance of the family is indicated 
 by the fact that these sons were both made consuls in 
 522. A previous wife has been given him by some his- 
 torians in the shape of a " beautiful and learned " woman, 
 named Elpis, but there appears to be no truth in the 
 story. Elpis was the authoress of two Christian hymns, 
 the names of which are quoted sometimes as Decora lux 
 and Beate Pastor, and sometimes as Aurea luce and 
 Felix per omnes. She is supposed to have been a Greek 
 Sicilian, and Sicilian writers of a later date are mainly 
 responsible for the story of her marriage with Boethius. 
 The only reliable account of her is contained in her 
 epitaph, which implies that she followed her husband into 
 exile, but does not give the name of the husband. As 
 this statement would not leave time for the second 
 marriage with Rusticiana, the Elpis theory falls to the 
 ground and with it the myth of two sons by her named 
 Patricius and Hypatius. 
 
 Boethius became consul in 510, and the diptychon of 
 his consulship is still preserved in Brescia. Theodoric 
 appointed him magister officiorum in his court, and 
 
 x 
 
employed him to set the coinage in order. His scientific 
 attainments were also shown in the construction of a sun- 
 dial and water-clock, which were sent as presents to 
 Gunibald, King of the Burgundians. In 522, on the 
 occasion of his sons becoming consuls, he pronounced a 
 panegyric on Theodoric and, standing between the two 
 youths, distributed largesses to the people in the circus. 
 That was the turning-point of his career, and we thence- 
 forward find him surrounded by enemies who plotted 
 his downfall. Towards the end of Theodoric's reign, he 
 was formally accused of treason by Basilius, Gaudentius, 
 and Opilio, court parasites whose hocussing of the taxes 
 he had endeavoured to put down. These "dogs of the 
 Palace," as he calls them, alleged that he had conspired 
 against the king, and that he was desirous of overthrow- 
 ing the barbarian power and restoring the so-called 
 Roman freedom. In the result, he was condemned and 
 sent to Ticinum (Pavia), and his property was confiscated. 
 It was in this Ticinum prison, which was long after the 
 baptistery of a church, that the De Consolatione Philo- 
 sophiae was written. 
 
 In 525 he was put to death, either at Ticinum or at 
 Calvenzano. The manner of his death is variously re- 
 ported, but it was probably by beheading. A writer of 
 the name of Valesius says, however, that he was tortured 
 by a cord tightened round his head, until his eyes were 
 forced from their sockets, and that then he was clubbed 
 to death. Symmachus, his father-in-law, appears to have 
 been put to death shortly afterwards. 
 
 Theodoric survived Boethius a few years, and his final 
 illness and death were supposed to have been occasioned 
 by the horror he experienced one night when sitting at 
 supper in his palace at Ravenna. A fish was brought 
 
 xi 
 
on the table, and as the attendants removed the covering 
 of the dish, Theodoric thought he saw in the head of the 
 fish the features of his victim Symmachus. It is related 
 that he was seized by a fever the same night, and died a 
 few days later. This may or may not be true, but certain 
 it is, according to all accounts, that remorse for the death 
 of both Symmachus and his son-in-law haunted Theodoric 
 during the few remaining years of his life. The Church 
 historians tell the story of how his soul was seen, naked, 
 shoeless, and bound hand and foot, careering through the 
 air, followed by the avenging shades of Symmachus and 
 Boethius, and ultimately hurled into the crater of the 
 Lipari volcano. 
 
 The Variarum of Cassiodorus, the Epistolae of Enno- 
 dius, and the Historia of Procopius, are (beside the De 
 Consolatione itself) the three original sources as regards 
 the life of Boethius. Cassiodorus, though a distinguished 
 man at Theodoric's Court, was shrewd enough to escape 
 Boethius's ill-fortune, for when the intrigues of ambitious 
 sycophants began to influence the too credulous king, 
 he withdrew from the Palace, and went into temporary 
 retirement. During the virtual regency of Theodoric's 
 daughter, Amalasontha, we find Cassiodorus once more a 
 man of state, and his final retirement to a monastery 
 only took place when he had reached the age of seventy. 
 Some of his later years were spent in writing a history 
 of the Church, based on Sozomen's work on the same 
 subject. It is, however, not in this treatise, but in the 
 " Variarum " collection of state documents that we obtain 
 from Cassiodorus an insight into the personality of 
 Boethius and into the conditions of his time. 
 
 Magnus Felix Ennodiuswas Bishop of Pavia from 511 
 until his death in 521. His Epistles, written in turgid 
 
 xii 
 
and obscure Latin, were addressed to various contem- 
 poraries, and bore chiefly upon private matters. Three 
 were sent to Boethius, but they consist mainly of fulsome 
 compliments, and contain none of the interesting facts 
 preserved by Cassiodorus and recorded by the Byzantine 
 historian, Procopius. 
 
 Procopius became secretary to Belisarius in 527, accom- 
 panied the great commander in nearly all his expeditions, 
 and was prefect of Constantinople in 562. In his Historia 
 he treats of Boethius, and also describes the fate of 
 Rusticiana in her widowhood. 
 
 The works of Boethius formed one of the few surviving 
 torches of ancient learning which carried on the fire of 
 classical culture throughout the Dark Ages and the early 
 Middle Ages. In the monastery, in the castle, every- 
 where where men read and thought at all, was to be 
 found the treatise De Consolatione Philosophiae, and num- 
 berless were the renderings made. Some of the earliest 
 specimens of the literature of the modern languages con- 
 sist of translations and imitations of this last of the 
 classics. Alfred the Great did the work into Anglo- 
 Saxon. The first specimen of French literature is a 
 poem on Boethius, to which has been assigned a date 
 not later than the year 1000. It formerly belonged to 
 the Abbey of Benoit-sur-Loire, but was subsequently 
 removed to the public library of the town of Orleans. 
 Hallam states that it is a fragment of 250 lines, written 
 in stanzas of six, seven or a greater number of verses 
 of ten syllables each, sometimes deviating to eleven or 
 twelve, and all the lines in each stanza rhyme masculinely 
 to each other (Hallam's Literature of Europe, i. 30). But 
 it was not only in the actual versions of the work that 
 its influence was shown. There is scarcely a treatise on 
 
 xiii 
 
philosophy or on speculative theology that does not bear 
 traces of its having been carefully perused. In short, 
 the De Consolatione was the model of literary composi- 
 tion, both in Latin and, where it existed at all, in the 
 modern languages throughout the whole of the earlier 
 mediaeval times. 
 
 It will interest many readers to know that the Tesoretto 
 of Brunetto Latini, the preceptor of Dante, affords, in a 
 manner, a link between the last great writer of ancient 
 Latin and the first great writer of modern Italian. In 
 // Tesoretto, we may see the rough idea which Dante took 
 as the skeleton of the Divina Comedia. In the figure of 
 Natura : 
 
 " talor toccava il cielo 
 
 sicke parca suo velo 
 
 e talor lo mutava 
 
 e talo lo turbava," 
 
 with the elaborate pourtrayal of the appearance of 
 the semi-divine woman, " sic ch'io credea che'l crine fussa 
 d'un oro fine," and in the rest of the glowing description 
 we unmistakably recognize the Boethian Philosophia 
 as the prototype. Additional point is given to this, when 
 we remember that Brunetto Latini had already translated 
 the De Consolatione into the Italian language. 
 
 As the last western philosophical writer of the ancient 
 world, Boethius, appropriately to his position, sums up 
 the culture of the civilization of Greece and Rome in 
 well nigh all its branches. His works constitute the last 
 epitome of classical learning produced by the classical 
 world itself, and form a kind of encyclopedia of the 
 " wisdom of the ancients." In addition to his translations 
 of Aristotle, Porphyry, and other Greek writers, his original 
 treatises on geometry, arithmetic, and music, besides -those 
 
 xiv 
 
on the philosophical sciences properly so called, logic, 
 metaphysics, and ethics, form valuable condensations of 
 these subjects as then understood. Wherever the subject- 
 matter admits of it they are expressed in elegant Latin, 
 and expounded in due regard to literary form. 
 
 The philosophy of Boethius naturally reflects the 
 eclecticism of the contemporary Athenian schools that 
 were carried on by the successors of Proclus, and that 
 only outlived Boethius for some four years. The Aris- 
 totelian side of this eclecticism is, however, perhaps the 
 most prominent with our author. The schoolmen studied 
 Aristotle in Boethius's translations, and in reading the 
 latter we have a foretaste of the scholastic phraseology 
 and mode of argumentation which dominated mediaeval 
 speculative thought. From the text of the De Consola- 
 tione it will be seen how much he is exercised in en- 
 deavouring to reconcile free will and necessity, prescience 
 and contingency, perfection of the divine nature, and 
 the existence of evil. The nominalist and realist contro- 
 versy which obtained such importance long after, is also 
 found in embryo. 
 
 The works of Boethius may be said to have been 
 the staple philosophical reading of the earlier Middle 
 Ages. Alcuin and many other eminent pillars of the 
 Church based their own dissertations on theological 
 dogmas upon the works of the probably pagan Roman, 
 who by a freak of tradition had attained the position of a 
 Christian divine and martyr. In this connection we may 
 consider the much debated point of Boethius's religious 
 profession. The chief Christian writings attributed to him 
 consist of the De Unitate et uno, the Brevis Fidei Chris- 
 tianize Complexio and the De Persona et Natura contra 
 Uticam et Nestorium. Of these, the first does not seem 
 
 xv 
 
to have been ascribed to him until the twelfth century 
 and the others, though also bearing his name, are not 
 identified with him until some time after his death. More 
 than one obvious hypothesis as to their authorship pre- 
 sents itself, should the internal evidence of the undoubted 
 works of our author render it difficult to believe that he 
 wrote the one and the other. First of all, they may have 
 been written by another person who wished to make it 
 appear that they were from the pen of Boethius. Secondly, 
 they may have been written by another Boethius, totally 
 unconnected with our author. Thirdly, it is possible to 
 suppose them to be the work of his son Annicius Manlius 
 Severinus Boethius. The latter was probably otherwise 
 unknown as an author, but subsequent generations, 
 finding two or three isolated treatises bearing the name, 
 would naturally ascribe them to his illustrious father, 
 more especially in an age when literary criticism, in our 
 sense of the term, was non-existent. 
 
 The question now arises as to whether there is any in- 
 ternal evidence to show inconsistency between both 
 classes of writings. The answer is that there is negative 
 evidence of an almost conclusive character. First, the 
 De Consolatione, written in captivity and under the 
 shadow of an imminent death, does not mention the 
 name of Christ, allude to any Christian dogma, or express 
 any religious sentiment that bears a distinctively Christian 
 interpretation. The consolation the author finds is ex- 
 clusively afforded him by the goddess of Reason, who 
 commends him to Plato and the other great names of 
 ancient thought. 
 
 As to Boethius's undoubted works, they deal entirely 
 with the pagan culture of the classical world. The latest 
 editor of five Christian writings ascribed to him, Pro- 
 
 xvi 
 
fessor Piper, while virtually surrendering two of them, as 
 based on insufficient evidence, would have us regard the 
 other three as early exercises of their alleged author, 
 written at the time he was under guardianship. He 
 further supposes that Symmachus and the Johannes who 
 was afterwards Pope, were his two chief guardians. 
 This opinion is, however, rejected by other scholars as 
 being unsupported by any cogent evidence. 
 
 Lastly there is nothing in the authentic accounts of 
 Boethius's life that indicates his having taken part in the 
 religious squabbles of his time, the theory of his con- 
 spiracy with the Byzantine court being obviously a sub- 
 sequent invention. All things considered, we shall not 
 be far wrong in adopting the opinion, held by most 
 authorities in the present day, that Boethius was the last 
 of the Roman pagans, and that he owes his quasi-saint- 
 ship in the Catholic church to the circumstance of his 
 having been persecuted and unjustly put to death by the 
 Arian heretic Theodoric. 
 
 Boethius's philosophical position in the works strictly 
 expository of Aristotle is that of the Stagyrite with little 
 admixture of the Neo-Platonism which represented the 
 dying thought of the age. In the De Consolatione, how- 
 ever, we find distinct Platonic traces. The universal, the 
 eternal form, appears in complete separation from the 
 flux of particulars, the realm of Fortune. The God of 
 Boethius is the complex of all categories and nothing 
 more. Will and action cannot be predicated of the infinite 
 consciousness, in the eternal nature of which is contained 
 all concepts and no sensibles. Boethius sharply dis- 
 tinguishes between what Hegel calls the false infinite 
 {das schlechte Unendliche), the indefinite series in time, 
 and the true infinite or eternal, which is, as such, indepen- 
 
 xvii c 
 
dent of time, whether limited or unlimited. In the fifth 
 book of the De Consolatione, we can fancy we discern 
 the chief source of inspiration conned over by Scotus 
 Erigena, two centuries and a half later, in his monastic 
 cell in the west of Ireland. The mere word-juggles 
 of the schoolmen also found a fruitful soil in Boethius's 
 philosophical and logical treatises, but, nevertheless, we 
 still perceive in him a distinct feeling for that real 
 problem of philosophy, which lived on obscurely amongst 
 the better thinkers of the Middle Ages and only became 
 quite lost in the trivialities of Locke and the British 
 psychological school. 
 
 Boethius's dry and, as it seems to us, very unprofitable 
 treatise on music was a great school-book down to two 
 hundred years ago. It is based on the Pythagorean 
 system and treats music as one of the four mathematical 
 disciplines, the essence of music consisting in number and 
 proportion. Arid discussions on the divisions of the 
 tetrachord and of the monochord occupy a number of 
 dreary pages, in addition to the exposition of the opinions 
 of the different sects on these and cognate subjects. 
 Nevertheless, this scholastic jargon, absolutely destitute 
 of theoretical, let alone practical, utility, continued to be 
 the staple requisite for the musical degree at Oxford, 
 until far into the eighteenth century. Much of the 
 treatise is utterly unintelligible to anyone that has not 
 minutely studied the antiquities of musical theory in the 
 classical world. It would be certainly a thankless task 
 for any human being in the present day, without the spur 
 of academic distinction before him, to wade through 
 these five books, in which the science of music, as it then 
 existed, is supposed to be summed up. 
 
 The division of the circle of mediaeval learning into the 
 
 xviii 
 
seven sciences, the so- called trivium and quadrivium, the 
 first consisting of Grammar, Rhetoric and Dialectic, and 
 the second, the mathematical disciplines, consisting of 
 Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and Astronomy, was long 
 attributed to Boethius, but modern scholars are inclined to 
 regard it as having already existed before his time. 
 
 The reputation of Boethius with his contemporaries and 
 with succeeding generations rested almost as much on his 
 moral character as on his literary achievements. In a 
 decadent age, and connected with a cOurt in which all 
 manner of corruption was rampant, we have every reason 
 to believe that he maintained a standard of strict integrity, 
 throughout his public and private life. The account he 
 gives of himself in the first book of the De Consolatione of 
 his dealings with the oppressive functionaries and of his 
 efforts to save the coloni from the tyranny and rapacity of 
 the fiscal agents, is fully confirmed, as regards its general 
 tenour, by the statements to be found in the collections of 
 Cassiodorus. 
 
 Of George Colvile, the author of the present transla- 
 tion, few facts have been ascertained. He is alleged 
 to have been at Oxford University, but no trace of him is 
 discoverable upon the University rolls. His name seems 
 to have been spelt in various ways on different occasions, 
 as was the wont in those days. It appears sometimes as 
 Colvile, sometimes as Coldewell, but always in connection 
 with his translation of the De Consolatione. The obscurity 
 of the man may be gathered from the fact that in that 
 vast body of research respecting English worthies, the 
 Dictionary of National Biography, no new information con- 
 cerning him has been unearthed. But, notwitstanding 
 our want of knowledge of Colvile's personality, he will 
 always remain, on account of his book, interesting to 
 
 xix 
 
students of the literature of the period. His work is one 
 of the finest specimens we could desire of the rugged, 
 terse, vigorous English of the sixteenth century. It is 
 especially free from the euphuism that characterized some 
 of the Elizabethan writers. For these reasons, it has been 
 given a place in the present series and we believe that the 
 subscribers to the Tudor Library will be glad to find it 
 included in a collection of works illustrative of the litera- 
 ture of the Renaissance and of the age immediately suc- 
 ceeding it. The book, as appears on the title page, was 
 published by John Cawood in 1556. It seems to have 
 had a success, as a second edition was printed by Cawood 
 in 1561. 
 
 xx 
 
BOETI U S 
 
 DE CONSOLATIONS 
 
 PHILOSOPHISE. 
 
 The boke of Boecius, called the comforte of philosophye, 
 or wysedome, moche necessary for all men to read and 
 know, wherein suche as be in aduersitie, shall fynde muche 
 consolation and corriforte, and suche as be in great worldly 
 prosperitie may knowe the vanitie and frailtie therof, and con- 
 sequently fynde eternall felycytie. And this boke is in manner 
 of a dialoge or communication betwene two persones, the one 
 is Boecius, and the other is Philosophy, whose disputations and 
 argumentes do playnly declare the diuersitie of the lyfe actiue, 
 that consisteth in worldly, temporall, and transitory thynges, 
 and the lyfe contemplatyue, that alwayes dyspyseth the worlde, 
 and all thinges therin, and beholdeth almyghtye GOD, and all 
 heauenlye thynges. Translated out of latin into the Englyshe 
 tounge by George Coluile, alias Coldewel, to thintent that such 
 as be ignoraunt in the Latin tounge, and can rede Englyshe, 
 maye vnderstande the same. And to the mergentes is added 
 the Latin, to the end that suche as delyghte in the 
 Latin tonge may rede the Latin, accordynge 
 to the boke of the translatour, 
 whiche was a very olde 
 prynte. 
 
 Anno. M.D.LVI. 
 
To thehygh, and myghty firyncesse, our Souereigne 
 
 Ladye, and Quene, Marye by the grace of God, 
 
 Quene of Englande, Spayne, Fraunce, both Cicilles, Ieru- 
 
 salem, and Ireland, defender of the faith, Archeduches of 
 
 Austrie, Duches of Myllayne, Burgundy e, and Brabante, 
 
 Countesse of Haspurge, Flaunders, and TyrolL 
 
 Your humble, and obedient subiecte, 
 
 George Coluile, alias Coldewell, 
 
 wyssheth all health, ho- 
 
 noure, and pro- 
 
 speritie, 
 
 =8pj^HERE as manye thinges (mooste gracious 
 soueraigne Ladye) be wryten both learnedly, 
 and wysely, by the sage Philosophers in 
 theyr bookes, yet me thinketh there is one 
 thinge alone, amongest so many dyuers, and 
 sondry thynges, to be had chiefelye in re- 
 membraunce, that is to saye : to pray that 
 a hole reasonable body, may haue an hole and perfyt mind or 
 wytte. For both the same beynge hole and perfyt, maye 
 iustely be called health, whiche consisteth in the ryght, and 
 fyrme constitution, and temperaunce both of the body and 
 mynd. And where as the health and perfection of the mind 
 or wyt (which is the chiefest and best part -of a naturall and 
 reasonable bodye, well fourmed in all partes of the same) 
 wanteth, can there be any felicitie in the same ? Also if nature 
 (as it happeth often tymes) hath geuen an impotent or weke 
 bodye, to a fresshe, lusty and quycke mynde or wytt, there the 
 same mynde beynge as a thynge bound, constrained in, or 
 languysshynge, can nether exercyse and vse her proper vigore 
 
 3 
 
and strength, nor yet profytte her selfe anye thynge accordyng 
 A certayne Philosopher (when he complayned on the wekenes 
 of his owne body) sayde (after my iudgement) very well thus : 
 O nature, yf thou haddeste geuen me a bodye lyke vnto my 
 mynde, it myghte haue done whatsoeuer it desyred. Nowe 
 whether that nature, or almyghty God hath geuen vnto your 
 moost excellente maiestie (gracious Lady and Quene) both a 
 perfyte mynde, and also a body accordyng to the same : yet 
 for so much as there can be no suche health of body in this 
 present lyfe, but that it may other whyles degenerate and fall 
 into the contrary parte, youre maiestye is worthye for youre 
 singuler vertue and goodnes to haue, not onely prosperous, but 
 also continuall health both of your mynde and bodye, that you 
 maye longe reygne, rule, and gouerne in hygh felicitie this your 
 realme, and the common wealth of the same, whereof you are 
 oure cheife heade, and soueraygne comforte. And as I thoughte 
 it no lesse but my bounden duetie to declare my good wyll and 
 mynde towardes youre grace, whiche hath alwayes accepted all 
 mennes good hartes not vnthankefully, pretendyng goodnes 
 vnto you : where as it fortuned in my studies, I redde ouer the 
 noble worke of Boecius, called, the comfort of phylosophy, or 
 wysedome, as muche necessary for all kynde of vertuous people, 
 as others : I (of my selfe vnworthy, both for lacke of wytte and 
 eloquence) toke vpon me after my rude maner, to translate the 
 same worke out of Latyn, into the Englysshe tounge, and so to 
 dedicate the same unto youre hyghnes, not thynkynge it a 
 thynge worthy for your grace, beynge so rudelye done, but that 
 I, and also my translation, myghte obtayne more fauour of the 
 readers, vnder the protectio and fauour of your name. And if 
 any man receaueth any profyt therby, I shall desyre him to 
 geue thankes therefore vnto youre maiestie, whose moost royall 
 person I beseche almyghtye God, longe to preserue amongest 
 vs to raygne, and to sende you moost prosperous successe in 
 the same. Amen. 
 
THE ARGUMENTE OR SUMME OF THYS 
 BOOKE AND WHEREOF IT TREATYTH. 
 
 'HERE was a noble man, a consul of Rome 
 named Boecius, this man was a catholike 
 man and dysputed for the faith in the comon 
 counsayle agaynste the herytykes Nestoryus 
 and Euticen, and confuted them, as it ap- 
 peareth by a booke that he made, wherein 
 he proueth two natures in Chryste. Thys 
 Boetius was a greate ruler in the courte of Theodorik Kynge of 
 the gotes, in so much that he (when he sawe the Kyng aboute 
 to oppresse the Romaynes wyth hys accustomed tirannye) 
 resysted hym by hys polytyke and godly counsaylej and per- 
 swaded hym from it more then all other of the counsayl dyd, 
 and soo delyuered the people (not wythout greate daunger of hys 
 owne person) from the tyrannicall rauyn of Kynge Theodoryke. 
 The Kyng Theodoryk (partly perceyuyng of hymselfe, and 
 partely by other flatteryng counsalours who alwaies dispised 
 Boecius and hys godly wysdome, that hys tirannicall com- 
 maundementes coulde take no place by reason and meanes of 
 the great wysedom of Boecius that alwayes destroyed the euyl 
 opynyon and folyshe myndes of the Kyng, and suche as fauorid 
 hys vngodly and vncharytable inuentions) imagined falsly w'out 
 iust cause to distroy Boecius after thys sort. He Surmised that 
 Boecius dyd interrupt and kepe backe a certayn man that 
 should haue brought letters unto the kyng, wherin were con- 
 tayned certayne accusations of the Senatours of Rome con- 
 cernyng great hurt and domage done by them agaynst the 
 Kynges most royall Maiesty. He also surmysed that Boecius 
 had wrytten certayne letters vnto the Emperoure of Constan- 
 tynoble to requyre hys ayde and helpe to restore the Romaynes 
 to theyr former lyberty and to be delyuered from the tirannical 
 subiection of the kyng Theodoryke. Vpon these two causes 
 
 S 
 
falsely surmysed by the kytig, Boecius was accused by vile 
 and slaunderus persons hired for mony, and beyng neuer put to 
 aunswer, was vniustlye founde gyltye, and adiudged by the 
 Kynge to auoyde hys Countryes, and to remayne in a Citye 
 called Papia as a banyshed man, and to lose all hys landes and 
 goodes for euer. Boecius being thus banyshed from hys landes 
 goodes and kynred, consideryng hys formor prosperytye paste, 
 and the present aduersite that he was in, made thys presente 
 booke calledde the comforte of wysedome, agaynste the mutable 
 chaunces of fortune, wherby a man (althoughe he be banyshed 
 or depryued of wordely possessions, goodes, riches dignities or 
 any other worldlye felycitye or pleasure) myghte receiue comfort 
 agaynst such aduersitye (commyng by fortune) : wyth phylo- 
 sophy or wysedome, whyche teachyth a man to dyspyse worldly 
 thynges, and to loue vertue, and to labor to attayne vnto the 
 hygh perfect felicite or soueraigne good that is almyghtye God, 
 in whome onely is all abundaunce and suffysaunce, nothynge 
 wantyng that canne be worthely desyred, and neuer subiect to 
 fortunes chaunces. 
 
 And by wysedome a man maye learne to knowe God to 
 knowe hym selfe and the world, and so nether to reioyse in 
 worldly prosperytye, nor to be sory in aduersitye of worldly 
 thynges, as for the losse of wyfe, chyldren, landes, goodes, 
 ryches, or dygnytyes. And as I haue declared before, thys 
 booke is a dialoge or communycation of two personnes togethers, 
 the one is Boecius bewaylyng hys misery for hys losses temporal : 
 the other is Philosophy or wisdome which doth comforte hym 
 in all hys trybulations. Boecius vseth in thys boke somtyme 
 prose, in the whyche he sheweth reasons of greate comforte, and 
 also he vseth some tyme myter or versys delectable to cause a 
 man to forgette hys heuynes and grefe in heryng of them, more- 
 ouer this boke is deuided into fyue partes. In the fyrst parte 
 or booke Boecius complayneth vpon hys myserable chaunces. 
 In the seconde he deuyseth comfortable remedies for aduersites. 
 In the thyrd he determyneth what is the perfyt felycyte and in 
 whom it is. In the fourth boke he moueth certayne questions 
 to phylosophy or wisedome. And in the fyfte and laste boke 
 he treatyth of goddes purueians or prouidens, of destiny chances, 
 and fre wyl, and what diuersites be betwene them, and soo 
 endyth hys worke no lesse famous then profytable. 
 
 6 
 
THE PROLOGE OF GEORGE COLUILE, 
 ALIAS COLDEWELL TO THE READER. 
 
 lONSYDERYNGE wyth myselfe, the shorte 
 and vncertaine course of thystran sitory lyfe, 
 the vanities of the worlde, and the mutable 
 chaunces of fortune, with her flatteryng and 
 deceyueable gyftes. I do much meruayle 
 that the mooste parte of men (hauinge wytte, 
 reason, and vnderstandynge, whereby they 
 should excell other brute beastes) do so ernestly folowe the 
 gyftes of fortune, and chaunce (being so variable) as they should 
 do such thinges wherin perfyt felicytie or sufferaygne good, 
 stedfastly dwellyth, when they see daylye before their eyes, that 
 there is noo certaintie nor stedefastnes therein, I meane that 
 men forsake the wayes of god, and al vertues, that be alwayes 
 fyrme and neuer fayleth, and foloweth the worlde, the deuyll 
 and the fleshe, that darkenyth the wytte and vnderstandyng with 
 theyr vanyties and pleasures, as with ryches, possessions, honors, 
 dignities, power, aucthoritie, fame, & suche other, that turnyth 
 vpsydowne in one momente of an houre, vanysheth awaye, and 
 commeth to noughte, and seynge that therin is no perfyt 
 felycitie, for they content no man that haue the, but euer they 
 wante and couette more and more, and when they thynke them 
 selfe most sure of them, then they be mooste vnsure, for expe- 
 rience sheweth that in one instant eyther man is seperatyd from 
 them, by deathe, or els they be taken from man by the chaunce 
 of fortune, whereby it semeth that euyll fortune is better then 
 good fortune, for euyll fortune, sheweth her self as she is in 
 dede without flatterye, maketh a man to know God, the world 
 and hymselfe. And good fortune deceiueth a man with her 
 gyftes that seme both plesaunte and permanente, and be not so 
 in dede. .0 howe many wyse and wel learnyd men haue wrytten 
 
 7 
 
ryghte fruytefull doctrynes, to the intente that men myght lerne 
 to knowe the troubles, the vexacyons, the vnquyetnes and the 
 vncertaynte of thys vayne worlde, and of all thinges worldly 
 and temporall, that no man shuld pretend any inheritaunce, 
 contynuance, or certaynte in them, any longer then it shal please 
 fortune, that is mystres and ruler of them ? Socrates was the 
 fyrste begynner and worshypper of wysdome, and when he 
 coulde fynde no certayne ende of goodnes in naturall thynges, 
 he gaue hys hole mynde and studye to the contemplation of 
 vertue. And he seyng the myndes of men vehementlye inclyned 
 to errours and to transitorye thynges, instituted, and taught the 
 people, so that they myght knowe and perceyue that god 
 almyghtye, was and is the hygh soueraign good or perfyt 
 felicitie. After hym folowed Plato, who (emongest dyuers of 
 her godly workes) made a brydell to refrayne the pleasures and 
 sensualitie of the body, he chaungyd the ignoraunce, the feblenes 
 & negligence of yong men vnto diligece stregth & vertue. 
 Then cam vp poetes whych (for theyr eloquens, rethoryke & 
 many fayned tales and inuencions) were much to be comended, 
 some of the did wryt the noble Hues & dedes both of heuenly & 
 worldly creaturs : some wrote of Emperours and of shamefull 
 loue out of all good order for euyll and lasciuious lyuyng : Some 
 did writ of the myserable fall of Kynges and prynces, for theyr 
 wicked vyces, And other of them seynge younge people en- 
 clyned to all kynde of euyll, repreued the same playnelye in 
 theyr wryttynges, with out fauour or flatterye, hauynge respect 
 to no degre from the lowest to the hyghest. Al these wryters, 
 dyd thus of a godly zeale that they had to subdue vyce and to 
 stere up men vnto wysedome and vertue, and to cause men to 
 be abasshed and ashamed of their euyll lyuynge. These worthy 
 wryters, these diligent myndes and hartes eschewed Idlenes, 
 obteyned greate worshyppe and immortall fame for their godlye 
 labors, and lefte great comoditie and example to all men that 
 shoulde come after them. Alas why do not men now a dais 
 lerne to bere away their counsayle, & shew it in their con- 
 uersation and liuing But sythen in these our dayes there be 
 so many neglygent ignoraunt, and folyshe people, that dis- 
 pyseth vertue and ernestlye foloweth and enbrasythe the blynde 
 vanytyes of thys worlde, and estemeth them as thynges most 
 certaine, most sure, and perfyt sufferaygne good, I mooste 
 
vnworthy baren of eloquence, and very rude haue taken vpon 
 me to translate thys noble boke of Boecius, out of the Latyn 
 into the Englyshe toungue, wherein the errours of all men for 
 the most parte, be touchyd, that do put their truste in temporall 
 thynges, and do so feruently labour for them wyth no smal 
 daunger of theyr conscyence, and leueth the hygh way to god, 
 whych is the perfit and most sure felycitie & sufferayne good in 
 dede, the onely comforte both of y e bodye and soule, in whom is 
 al thynge that can be wel desyred, and nothynge wantynge, and 
 beyonde the whyche nothyng can be thoughte good and lawe- 
 full, or worthye to be wysshed or required. And gentle readers, 
 I pray you perdon me, if for lacke of wytte by ignoraunce or 
 neglygence I haue omytted any thynge, or haue erred in the 
 traslatyon, and consyder that my onelye purpose was nether for 
 prayse of men, nor for any reward, but to contente the myndes 
 of the wise, and to instructe the ignoraunt vnlearned people 
 with the holesome doctryne of Philosophye, or wysedome, that 
 is conteyned in this boke, and soo to cause men to cesse, and 
 leue of and gape no more soo gredylye as they do for worldlye 
 and transytorye thynges, but to ensue and folowe vertue in 
 godly lyuynge, and fynallye to asced from thys lyfe actyfe in 
 thys worlde, vnto the lyfe contemplatyfe whych neuer shal 
 fayle, where the elect and blessed soules do raygne 
 wyth god the father, god the son, and 
 god the holye ghoste, world 
 wyth oute ende. 
 Amen. 
 
THE.FYRSTE BOOKE. 
 
 BOECIUS SPEAKETH. 
 
 THAT in tyme of prosperite, & floryshing 
 studye, made pleasaunte and delectable dities, 
 or verses : alas now beyng heauy and sad 
 ouerthrowen in aduersitie, am compelled to 
 jp fele and tast heuines and greif. Beholde the 
 muses Poecicall, that is to saye : the pleasure 
 that is in poetes verses, do appoynt me, and 
 compel me to writ these verses in meter, and y e sorowfull verses 
 do wet my wretched face with very waterye teares, yssuinge out 
 of my eyes for sorowe. Whiche muses no feare without dout 
 coulde ouercome, but that they wold folow me in my iourney of 
 txile or banishment. Sometyme the ioyc of happy and lusty 
 delectable youth dyd comfort me, and nowe the course' of 
 sorowfull olde age causeth me to reioyse. For hasty old age 
 vnloked for is come vpon me with al her incommodities and 
 euyls, and sorow hath commaunded and broughte me into the 
 same old age, that is to say : that sorowe causeth me to be olde, 
 before my time come of olde age. The hoer heares do growe 
 vntimely vpon my heade, and my reuijed skynne trembleth my 
 flesh, cleane consumed and wasted with sorowe. Mannes death 
 is happy, that cometh not in youth, when a man is lustye, & in 
 pleasure or welth : but in time of aduersitie, when it is often 
 desyred. Alas Alas howe dull and deffe be the eares of cruel 
 death vnto men in misery that would fayne dye : and yet 
 refusythe to eome and shutte vp theyr carefull wepyng eyes. 
 Whiles that false fortune fauoryd me with her transitorye goodes, 
 then the howre of death had almost ouercom me. That is to 
 say deathe was redy to oppresse me when I was in prosperitie. 
 
 ii 
 
 The poetes do 
 fame that ther 
 be IX. Muses 
 thatdogeuey' 
 Poetes science 
 to make versis 
 in meter, and 
 y' same muses 
 be called ca- 
 mene, that is 
 to saye, syng- 
 ing swetlye, 
 For that y' 
 they do muche 
 delyte men by 
 reason of suche 
 meter, (& 
 they cause 
 men to delyte 
 in y e vayne 
 hyecions of 
 poetes, and 
 in the vayn 
 plesures of the 
 worlde. 
 
Nowe for by cause that fortune beynge turned, from prosperitie 
 into aduersitie (as the clere day is darkyd with cloudes) and hath 
 chaungyd her deceyuable countenaunce : my wretched life is yet 
 prolonged and doth continue in dolour. O my frendes why haue 
 you so often bosted me, sayinge that I was happy when I had 
 honor possessions riches, & authoritie whych be transitory 
 thynges. He that hath fallen was in no stedefast degre. 
 
 The discriptio 
 of Philosophy 
 or wysedome, 
 whyche for the 
 goodlye resons 
 thereof is com- 
 pared to the 
 beautye of a 
 fayre woma, 
 and the depe 
 knowlege of 
 wised ome is 
 of doughtefull 
 vnderstandyng 
 albeit it is con- 
 uersaunt emo- 
 geste menne 
 in earth by 
 science and 
 recheth vp 
 into heauen 
 by y a vertues 
 therof. 
 
 By the ves- 
 tures of subtyll 
 thredes is vn- 
 derstande the 
 science of 
 wysedome 
 which is lyke 
 a smokye 
 ymage to igno- 
 raunt persons. 
 
 Practise con- 
 sisteth in y' 
 work of the 
 bod ye about 
 worldlye 
 thinges, con- 
 templation con- 
 sisteth in ver- 
 tuous occupy 
 ing of the 
 mynd in ver- 
 tues and godl> 
 thinges, con- 
 iempnynge 
 the worlde, 
 
 BOECIUS SPEAKETH. : 
 
 Whyles that I considerydde pryuylye wyth my selfe the 
 thynges before sayd, and descrybed my wofull complaynte after 
 the maner and offyce of a wrytter, me thought I sawe a woman 
 stand ouer my head of a reuerend countenaunce, hauyng quycke 
 and glysteryng clere eyes, about the common sorte of men in 
 lyuely and delectable coloure, & ful of strength, although she 
 semed so olde that by no meanes she is thought to be one of 
 this oure tyme, her stature is of douteful knowledge, for nowe 
 she shewethe her selfe at the commen length or statur of men, 
 and other whiles she semeth so high, as though she touched heue 
 with the crown of her hed. And whe she wold stretch fourth 
 her hed hygher, it also perced thorough heauen, so that mens 
 syghte coulde not attaine to behold her. Her vestures or cloths 
 were perfyt of the fynyste thredes, & subtyll workemanshyp, and 
 of substaunce permament, whych vesturs she had wouen with 
 her own hands as I perceyued after by her owne saiynge. The 
 kynde or beawtye of the whyche vestures, a certayne darkenes 
 or rather ignoraunce of oldenes forgotten hadde obscuryd and 
 darkened, as the smoke is wont to darken Images that stand 
 nyghe y smoke. In the lower parte of the sayde vestures was 
 read the greke letter .P. wouen whych signifyeth practise or 
 actyffe, and in the hygher part of the vestures the greke letter. 
 T. whyche standeth for theorica, that signifieth speculacion or 
 contemplation. And betwene both the sayd letters were sene 
 certayne degrees, wrought after the maner of ladders, wherein 
 was as it were a passage or waye in steppes or degrees from the 
 lower part wher the letter .P. was which is vnderstand from 
 practys or actyf, vnto the hygher parte wher the letter T. was 
 ivhych is vnderstand speculacion or contemplacion. Neuertheless 
 the handes of some vyolente persones had cut the sayde vestures 
 
 12 
 
and had taken awaye certayne pecis thereof, such as euery one The peces of 
 coulde catch. And she her selfe dyd bare in her ryght hand litel ^p™*^ of 
 bokes, and in her lefte hande a scepter, whych fore sayd wysedome as 
 Phylosophy (when she saw the muses poetycall present at my hath learned 
 bed, spekyng sorowful wordes to my wepynges) beyng angry and retayneth, 
 sayd (with terrible or frownynge countenaunce) who suffred bookes be the 
 these crafty harlottes to com to thys sycke man ? whych can *j ^f ° hl T ys " 
 help hym by no means of hys greife by any kind of medicines, scepter sygny- 
 but rather increse the same with swete poyson. These be they f t h e comon 
 that doo dystroye the fertile and plentious commodytyes of w eIth > whiche 
 
 J J r J J is euer well 
 
 reason & the fruytes therof wyth their pryckynge thornes, or obserued by 
 barren affectes, and accustome or subdue mens myndes with xhese^raftye 
 sickenes, and heuynes, and do not delyuer or heale them of the harlots, be the 
 same. But yf your flatterye had conueyed or wythdrawen from t h at worldelye 
 me, any vnlernyd man as the comen sorte of people are wonte pleasures doo 
 
 J J i tangle mennes 
 
 to be, I coulde haue ben better contentyd, for in that my worke myndes with 
 should not be hurt or hynderyd. But you haue taken and pJeJ^untTfor 
 conueyed from me thys man that hath ben broughte vp in the the tyme. 
 studyes of Aristotel and of Plato. But yet get you hence 
 maremaides (that seme swete vntyll you haue brought a man to 
 deathe) and suffer me to heale thys my man wyth my muses or 
 scyences that be holsome & good. And after that -philosophy 
 had spoken these wordes the sayd companye of the musys 
 poeticall beynge rebukyd and sad, caste downe their counte- 
 naunce to the grounde, and by blussyng confessed their sham- 
 fastnes, and went out of the dores. But I (that had my syght 
 dull and blynd wyth wepyng, so that I knew not what woman 
 this was hauyng soo great aucthoritie) was amasyd or astonyed, 
 and lokyng downeward, towarde the grounde, I began pryuylye 
 to ioke what thyng she would saye ferther, then she had said. 
 The she approching and drawynge nere vnto me, sat downe 
 vpqn the vttermost part of my bed, and lokyng vpon my face 
 sad with weping, and declynyd toward the earth for sorow, 
 bewayled the trouble of my minde wyth these sayinges folowynge. 
 
 Phylosophy speketh. 
 
 Alas howe much is the minde of this man dulled being 
 drouned in the depe care of worldlye and transytorye thynges, 
 and leuynge her owne clerenes of vnderstandynge, wandryth in 
 
 13 
 
The poetes do 
 fayne, that the 
 sonne and the 
 sterres that do 
 ryse in the 
 east, do go 
 down in the 
 weste, and be 
 drowned in 
 the sea called 
 y e ocean sea 
 that lyeth in 
 y 6 west. 
 
 outwarde darkenes of ignoraunce as often as it is mouid with 
 erthly blastes. The care of temporall thinges that is so hurteful 
 increasyth out of measure. This man beyng somtyme fre from 
 cure of worldlye thinges to vvhome the heuen beyng open that is 
 to saye hauynge knowledge of heuely thinges by lernynge, was 
 wonte to goo into the heuenly wayes by science of astronomy, 
 and dyd behold y e son beames y' be so red, & did se the sterres or 
 constellacions of the cold mone. And he beynge a man that 
 with sycence had ouercom ignoraunce, had euery sterre compre- 
 hended in nuber, that is to saye, knewe the number of the 
 sterres, and dyd knowe what sterres dyd kepe and vse dyuers 
 erraticall or wandrynge courses, and mouyd in dyuers and 
 sundry circles of the zodiake. And also he was wont to serche 
 out the naturall causes, why the greate wyndes do trouble the 
 plaine waters of the sea, And what sprete or power turnyth the 
 stedefaste and hole fyrmament? And whye the ster called 
 hesperus risyth in the resplendent est, and goeth downe in the 
 occydent sea, And who temperith the pleasaunte tyme of Ver, 
 when all growyng thinges springeth forthe, that decketh the 
 earthe wyth freshe reddy flowers. And who hath caused the 
 frutefull autumpne in a plentyfull yere, to brynge forthe the full 
 clusters of grapes, And also thys ma was wont to declare the 
 secret causes of naturall thynges, and now he lyeth ouerthrowne 
 as a man that hath no intellygence or wytte, hauynge his necke 
 thrust downe with heuye chaynes, that is to say : with passions 
 and vexacyons of the mind berynge hys face downeward with 
 great wayte or heuynes, for the losse of temporall goodes. 
 Alas, he is constrayned to beholde the folyshe erthe that is to 
 saye, the folyshe and vayne thinges on the erth. 
 
 Philof. 
 
 But he hath nowe more nede of medycyn then of anye bodye 
 to bemone or lamente hym. BOE. Then truelye she beholdynge 
 me stedefastlye sayth, Arte not thou the same man that som- 
 tyme in thy youth was broughte vp wyth my learnyng, and 
 nourysshed with my doctryne, and becam than a stronge man 
 therein? And did not I giue the suche knoweledge and in- 
 structions whiche (yf thou hadst not forgotten) woulde haue 
 kept the safe and sound from thys aduersitie ? knoweste thou 
 
 14 
 
not me ? why speakeste not ? Doeste thou holde thy peace for 
 shame or for that thou art amasyd or astonyed ? I had leuer 
 thou were ashamed. But as me semeth thou art astonyed, and 
 when she sawe me not onely as one that had no tounge, but 
 also vtterly domme, she put her hand softelye vnto my brest to 
 fele me, And sayde : I can perceyue no daunger about this man, 
 he hath a lythargye, that is to saye, he is forgettefull or dull, the 
 commen syckenes of myndes that be deceyued, he hath a lytel 
 whyles forgotten hymself, but he shall easely & sone remember 
 hym self again, if he hath knowen me heretofore. And to 
 thintent y he may know me : let me wype hys eies a litel from 
 the darkenes of mortall thinges. These thinges she sayde, and 
 with her clothes gathered together she wyped and dried my 
 eyes drowned with wepyng, for the losse of worldlye goodes and 
 such vayne temporall and transytorye thynges. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 Then the darkenes left me, whe the nyghte was gone, and my 
 former strengthe of vnderstandyng came agayn euyn so as (by 
 example thus) the sonne lyethe hydde when the sterres be 
 couered wyth cloudes of the swyfte wynde named chorus, arid 
 the fyrmament standeth closyd and coueryd with thicke showers, 
 so that the nyght spredeth from aboue ouer all the earthe when 
 that the sterres cannot be seene in the firmament. If then the 
 wynde that is called Boreas do blowe from hys den in the 
 country of Trace putting awaye the nyght, that is to saye, the 
 clowdes and darkenes, and openyth the daye, that before was 
 shut vppe, & the son fortifyed with his sodeyne lyght, dothe 
 shyne and stryke into men eyes wyth hys beames meruailynge 
 at the same. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 Euen so the clowdes, that is to saye the causes of my sorow, 
 being put awaye by the comfort of Phylosophy, I lokyd vp 
 toward heuen, and receyued my wytte and reason to beholde 
 the face of my phisicion. And so whe I had turnyd myne eyes 
 and behelde her aduysedlye, I perceyued that she was my 
 norysh, in whose scoles I was broughte vppe, and conuersaunt 
 from my youth, and sayde vnto her. O thou mysteryes of all 
 
 15 
 
vertues descended from y e heuehlye seat. Art thou come into 
 these solitarye places of my exyle ? Arte thou come to be 
 accompted gyltye wyth me, of false accusacions ? Phil. O 
 thou my chyld Boece, nourished vp by me, shuld I forsake the 
 now ? and be no partaker with the of thy burden which thou 
 hast susteyned for malyce and enuye of my name ? Certes it 
 were not mete for me Philosophy to leue the, being innocent and 
 wyth oute blame and to suffer the alone in thy iourneye if I feared 
 myne owne faute, for yf I shoulde, I shoulde quake for feare lest 
 y e some other newe thinge should happen vnto the ? 
 
 Thynkest thou that Phylosophy is the fyrst that hath bene in 
 
 of peryll wicked men ? haue not I strouen longe a goe fyerslye 
 
 before the tyme of my Disciple Plato agaynst the fondenes of 
 
 folyshenes or folye ? and the same Plato, being a lyue, hys mayster 
 
 Socrates was Socrates vniustlye deserued vyctory of death, whyles that I stode 
 
 for'hvs'wyse- 6 ^y- ^he inherytaunce of which Socrates, that is to say : lernynge 
 
 dom, and yet consernynge felycitie or happynes, when the people of Epy- 
 
 perfyt phUo- curyens and Stoicyence, and dyuers others went about to take 
 
 sopher. awaye vyolentlye, euery man for hys part what he lustyd, of the 
 
 riens and Stoi- doctrine of Socrates, to defend and maintayne their opinion 
 
 cmns toke the- therein. And when they would haue drawen me Phylosophye 
 
 philosophers, that is to saye : wysedome in stede of a praye crying out and 
 
 learned but a resisting the same opinion, they cutte the clothes that I had 
 
 lyttle philo- made wyth mine owne handes. 
 
 By the cloths And with the pecys that they had cutte of, they went away 
 is vnderstand thynking that they had, had me wysedome holye awaye with 
 
 wysedome. J ° J ' J J J 
 
 them, in the whiche Epycuryens and Stoiciens, for bycause there 
 The steppes apperyd some steppes of myne habyte or doctryne, the igno- 
 is wysedome! 6 raunte common people thought that the sayde Epicuriens and 
 Stoiciens were my famylyer scolers, and peruertyd and turnyd 
 some men by the errour of the vnlearned multytude of them, 
 That is to saye : by cause they semyd wyse and were no Philo- 
 sophers or wyse men in dede, they were pursuyd to death. And 
 yf thou hast not knowen the banyshemet of Anaxagoras, nor the 
 poysonyng of Socrates, nor the tormentes of Zeno, because these 
 Canios, See- things, be straunge, yet thou myghteste haue knowen the Canios, 
 Soranos wer the Scenecas and the Soranos, whose fame is not verye olde nor 
 noble Ro- -with out prayse. Whych men none other thing was the cause of 
 
 maynsbrought ,.,,,, , . . 
 
 vp in wyse- their death but that they beyng instructed in my doctryne, semed 
 fhevnlearned un lyke to the techynge of the wycked, soo that there is no cause 
 
 16 
 
that thou shouldest maruayle thoughe we be tossyd in thys vale for malyce of 
 
 of miserye wyth aduersities on euerye syde, whose purpose is domewer 6 ut 
 
 chyfelye to dysplease wycked people, whose companye (be they to death. 
 
 neuer so great a multytude) is not to be regardyd, for it is Wise men that 
 
 , ° ' ' , , ,' beholdethhea- 
 
 gouernyd by no wysedome or reason, but rauyshed folyshelye uenly thinges 
 euerye where by wilful errour onelye, whych althoughe they [^for"^^ 
 stand at any tyme agaynst vs stoute and strong reysyng batel, good thynges 
 that is to saye : although the wycked and folishe people stryue neuer'feTit^ 6 ' 
 agaynst the wyse, truelye oure captayne reson or wysedome, aduersitieof 
 gatherith together his company, that is to say : aboundace of thinges but 
 vertues into the towre of heauenlye knowledge, where as they ^worid^nd 
 that be euill and folyshe be occupyed in gatherynge vp lytell the vanities 
 fardelles of worldlye thynges much vnprofitable, and we that be thereof - 
 aboue, wyse in heuenly vertues, doo deryde and laughe at the 
 folyshe people that do gather vp the most vilest things (that is 
 to say temporal thinges) being safe and sure from all the hole 
 furyous rowte and tumultes of the folyshe and wycked folkes, 
 and defeded with such a bulwarke of wysedome wherunto it 
 is not lawfull for the folysh people that would assaute us, to 
 come. 
 
 Phylos. 
 
 He that is vertuous and sober in hys lyuynge, and hathe trodden 
 downe vnder his fete, and ouercome the proude fortune that is to 
 saye fortunes chaunces, & beholdinge good fortune and euyll 
 fortune, that is to sai hath knowen aduersitie and prosperytye 
 indifferetly, and can kepe his mind so, that he neither reioise in 
 prosperitie nor be sad and sorye in aduersitie : the ragynge Lechery is lik 
 floudes of the sea y' the heate of the son sterreth vp & causyth to se * &\ Q y. y 
 boile from the very bottom of the same, nor the vnstable hyll i; nge of the 
 called Vesenus as often as it thrustyth oute the smokye flames rageth in de- 
 of fyer out of his chynes or cliftes, nor the brennynge lyghtnynge sy ! e t ' h and y { "- 
 that is wonte to stryke vpon high towres, can moue that ma. fylthye. Coue- 
 Therfore why do wretchyd men meruayle onely and fere cruell j^ d ™™fa ' 
 tyrauntes that rageth without stregthe of heuenly vertues. Trust up*, as the 
 not vpon the goodes of fortune, nor feare thou for any aduersitie. p ry d e is lyke 
 And then thou shalt mytigate and make weke the furye of the un . to th ^ h ? ht " 
 
 < B J enmg, for it 
 
 impotent tyraunt. But whoso that quaketh and fereth for y e beareth the 
 losse of worldly thynges, or do wysshe for temporall goodes, is ^houahe if 
 not stedfast nor at lybertye, but hathe forsaken his buckeler of passed men of 
 
 17 D 
 
the earth, and defence and safegarde, and is remouyd from his place of secu- 
 reache C y"heue. ritie, and maketh a chayne whereby he may be drawen, that is 
 
 to say : makyth a snare of sorow or care to wrappe his minde 
 
 into. 
 
 Phylos. 
 
 Perceyuest thou not those thynges that be spoken, & be they 
 not prynted and well fyred in thy mynde ? Art thou no more 
 apt to vnderstand the then an asse to play on the harpe ? Why 
 wepest ? Why shedest thou teres ? Tell me thy gryfe, hide it 
 not. If thou wylte haue helpe of the phisicion, it behoueth the 
 to shewe thy greife. BOEC. Then I takynge vnto my selfe a 
 good harte or mynde sayde. Doith not the crueltye of fortune 
 suffyciently appere agaynst me nedeth it anye other instruction? 
 Doth not this place, that is to say : this person shewe the ? Is 
 this the place of study y' I had in the countraye wherein thou 
 dydst chose the sureste seate for thy selfe in our scoles, in the 
 whych thou sitting wyth me often tymes, disputest of godly and 
 worldelye thynges ? Had I. than so vyle habyt, and suche 
 sorowful countenaunce ? When I dyd serch out with the, the 
 secret causes of nature ? When thou dyddest declare vnto me 
 the course of the sterres with a Virge or rodde of geometry ? 
 When thou dyddest forme my maners and dysposicion of lyfe to 
 y e symylytude and lykenes of the heuenly order ? be not these 
 the rewardes due vnto them that folowe the ? Certes thou hast 
 confyrmyd thys sentence by y e mouthe of Plato. Blessed is the 
 commenaltye that is ruled by wise me, or if it happen that the 
 rulers of commennaltyes do studye wysedome. Thou haste 
 lykewyse confyrmed and sayde by the mouthe of the sayde 
 Plato, that it is necessarye that the commonaltye be gouernid 
 by wise men, lest that the gouernment thereof- committed to 
 wycked and euyl cityzens, should hurte the good people. I there- 
 fore folowyng the same sayinge that I lernid of the, emongest 
 my secret and solitarye lesures, wysshed to practyse the same in 
 the administracion of the commenwelth. God and thou (whiche 
 haue instructe and taughte them y' be wyse) be my wytnes, that 
 nothinge mouyd me for to beare rule but for the common welthes. 
 sake, and for y l cause I hadde verye greuous and contynuall 
 Libertie of enmyte and hatred wyth wicked men : for my conscyence hath 
 to feare n'o ma suche libertye y' I more louid the ministration of iustice then I 
 
 to do iustice. 1 3 
 
regarded the anger of gret men. How often haue I wythstande 
 the ma named Canygast, that stroue to hinder euery pore mannes Canigast was 
 welth ? How often haue I tourned the man Tryguyll, prouost anofficerT* 1 
 of the kynges house from the wroges that he had begon to doo, kyng Theodo- 
 and more that he purposed to do to pore me ? how often haue I Triguyl was 
 defended poore men that were wrapped in infynyte miseries, by the km s es _ se . r_ 
 
 .* rr 1111T uaunt a como 
 
 the couitousnes of cruel straungers vnponyshed, whereby I was extorcioner. 
 
 in daunger to lose myne autoritye ? There was neuer anye 
 
 manne that coulde drawe me from iustyce to do wronge. When 
 
 I sawe the goodes of the people of the prouynces spoyled or 
 
 taken awaye, eyther by pryuye robbery or by commo trybutes, 
 
 I was as sory for it as they that suffred the wronge. When a The order 
 
 greuous order was made there in the time of greate honger or dere'veare the 
 
 scarsitie, whyche would haue impoueryshed gretelye the pro- kyngs bames 
 
 uynce of Campanye, I stroue agaynste the prouost of the pretory come^no man 
 
 (that appoynted that order) for the loue of comen welth, and I should by anye 
 
 laboured agaynst it, the Kynge Theodoryke knowyng the same, kingeatadere 
 
 so that I ouercame and caused y' the order toke none effecte. P r y ce >such as 
 
 ' was appoynted 
 
 Paulyn a noble counsayler of Rome (whose ryches the houndes of by the king 
 the Palace, that is to say, the kinges gredy offycers wold haue de- ffi cers s . 
 uouryd by desyre and ambicio) I delyuered and drewe out of theyr 
 rauynynge gapynge mouthes. I dydde put my selfe in daunger of 
 the malyce of the false accusar Ciprian the kyngs servaunte, that 
 the payne of the accusation before adiudged shuld not wrongfullye 
 punyshe Albyne a counsayloure of Rome. Havel not brought my Albynewas 
 selfe into troubles ynoughe? But I oughte to be more sure emongest to be punched 
 other whom I haue profited then emongest y e kings seruauntes before he was 
 whome I haue ben against alwais for the loue of iustice, by whose f sd worthy 
 accusacion (that is to say by the kinges seruauntes, my familyer P un y sh ement. 
 felowes, that haue accusyd me) I am banished : of the whyche 
 accusars Basilius was one, y' sometyme was dryuen out of the 
 kinges seruyce for hys malyce and wyckednes, and nowe 
 broughte in agayne for to accuse me for nede of other mes 
 monye and reward. Opilion and Gaudecius, (certes) were other 
 two of my accusars, whyche when the kyng Theodoryke for 
 theyr manyfolde deceytes & falsehed had banyshed, they would 
 not obey hym, but refused and defendid the by takynge sanc- 
 tuarye, and when the kyng herd of it, he comaunded y' except 
 they departed and went awaye from y e Citye of Rauenna within 
 a certayne tyme appoynted, that they shoulde be marked on the 
 
 19 
 
It was sur- 
 mised that 
 Boecius <iyd 
 wryte letters 
 unto Thempe- 
 rour of Con- 
 stantinople 
 against kynge 
 Theodoryke, 
 to haue the 
 Romaynes de- 
 lyuered frome 
 the Terannye 
 of thee Kynge. 
 
 forehed with a hote Iro & dryuen awaye. What crueltie might 
 seme more then this ? For the same day was I falsely accused 
 by the very same accusers. What may be sayd to thys ? 
 Hath my study and learnyng deserued this ? or hath my damp- 
 nacion or iudgement made the accusars true? Oughte not 
 fortune to be ashamed of thys ? Although fortune were not 
 ashamed that I was vniustlye accusyd, yet ought she to be 
 ashamyd of the vyle gayne of the accusers. But perchauce thou 
 woldest know the cause wherof I am accused. It is sayde that 
 I wuld haue saued the senators. And thou wouldeste knowe 
 howe and after what maner I am accused. It is noised that I 
 stopped y° messenger and woulde not suffer hym to brynge hys 
 letters of accusation vnto the kyng, whereby the senatours shold 
 haue bene founde gyltye of treson commytted agaynste the 
 kynges royal maiestye. O mysters Phylosyphy what thinke you 
 herein, shall I denye it, lest that I should shame the ? Truelye 
 I do confesse that I haue desyred to saue the senate : And I 
 confesse that I wyll neuer cesse to doo the same : But as 
 towchyng that I did stoppe the message of the messynger, it 
 shal cesse, for it is not treue. Shall I call it a wronge or treason 
 to wyshe the preseruation of the order of the senate ? Certes 
 the same senate that consented to my dampnation dyd thys by 
 theyr decrees iudiciall, as thoughe it were not lawefull to desire 
 theyr helth. But foly that alwaye workyth her own destructio 
 cannot chauge the meryte of thynges. And I thynke by the 
 iudgement of Socrates that it is not lawefull for me to hyde the 
 truthe, nor to consent to lesynges. But how so euer it be, I re- 
 ferre it to thy iudgment, and to them that be wyse, to iudge, for 
 the truthe and order of thys thing cannot be hyd from our suc- 
 cessoures, for I haue put it in wrytyng and in memory. For 
 what auayleth me to speake of the letters falsely surmysed to be 
 made by me (whereby I am accusyd) to haue hoped for the de- 
 lyueraunce of the Romaynes from the handes of the kynge 
 Theodoryke. The craft of wyche letters shoulde haue bene 
 knowen yf I myght haue ben present before mine accusors which 
 is a thynge most expedyent and necessary in all causes of iudge- 
 ment, and what other fredom may me loke for ? Certes I woulde 
 there were some other thinge, I would then haue answered wyth 
 the wordes of one Canius, (which whe he was accused of one 
 Gaius, Cesars cosyn germayne sonne, that he was gylty of a 
 
 20 
 
coniuracion or conspiracy made agayhst hym) the said Canius 
 aunswered Gaius thus. If I had knowen it, thou shuldeste not 
 haue knowen it, I would haue wrought so warelye. In whyche 
 thinge before specyfyed that I am vniustelye accusyd of euyll 
 men, sorowe hath not soo dulled my sensis or wytte, that I do 
 only complayne that the wycked folke do goo aboute and inuente 
 wycked thynges agaynste vertuous folke, but I do maruayle 
 gretlye howe they can brynge to passe the thynges that they 
 haue take in hande. For to wyll to doo euyll and wycked 
 thyngs perchaunce is through our owne faulte : but it is lyke a 
 monster before god to do such euyll and wickyd thynges, that 
 euery wycked perso hath conceyued in hys mynde to doo 
 agaynst an innocent, wherof one of thy famylyers that is to say 
 a Phylosopher demaunded iustly this question. Truelye he 
 sayth if there be a god fro whece commeth euyll thynges ? And 
 yf there be no God, from whence cometh good thynges? But 
 if it were lawefull, that wycked folke (that desyrethe the deathe 
 of all good folke and of all the senate) wolde go aboute to dis- 
 troye me, whom they haue sene to defende good folke, & the 
 senate, whether thynkest thou that I had deserued the same of 
 the senate ? that is to saye : that the senate shoulde wyll my 
 distruction. Thou doest remebre (as I thynke) when that I was 
 aboute to saye or do any thynge, thou beinge present didist 
 alwayes rule me. Thou remembrest (I saye) at the Cytye of 
 Veron when the kynge Theodorike gredy and desyrous of 
 commen destruction, and to distroy al the senate, went aboute 
 to impute vnto all the hole order of senatoures, the treason and 
 gylte of hys royall Maiestye, wherof Albyne the senatoure was 
 accusyd, with how greate peryll of my selfe dyd I defende the 
 innocentye of the sayd senate ? thou knowest that I saye truth, 
 and neuer bostyd nor reioysed for anye prayse to my selfe. For 
 a man demynysheth in maner the secretes of hys conscience as 
 often as he in praysynge hymselfe receiueth any renoume of hys 
 dedes emongest men. But thou seyste what chauce or ende I haue 
 for my innocencye. I do suffer paynes of false gyltie or felony, 
 wythoute deserte for a rewarde of my vertues. What ope con- 
 fession of felonye had iudges euer so accordynge in crueltye ? 
 but that eyther the erroure of manes wit, or the chaunce of 
 fortune (that is vncertain vnto al mortal men) hath turnyd some 
 of the same iudges to compassion and pytye, sauynge in my 
 
 21 
 
Prescripcion 
 is a iugemet y* 
 a man shoulde 
 haue his name 
 stryken oute 
 of the table of 
 brasse in the 
 whiche the 
 names of noble 
 & famous men 
 were wont to 
 be wrytte for 
 a perpetuall 
 fame or me- 
 morye. 
 
 accusation. For althoughe I had bene accusyd that I sayde I 
 woulde brenne churches, & strangle pristes with cruell swerde, 
 and distroy all good folke, yet shulde not the iudge condempne 
 me, excepte I were present and conuict of the offence vpon my 
 confession therof : but I being absent the space of fyue hundred 
 myles in great study, and hauing no knowledge that I was 
 accusyd of any gylte or felonye, was adiudged by y e senate to 
 deathe of prescription. O wel be they worthy prayse (it is 
 spoken ironice that is to vnderstande they be euil worthy prayse) 
 that for my kyndenes haue thus iudged me, none of the could 
 be so iudged of lyke cryme after the maner as I was whan I was 
 present, as they were present at my iudgment, the innocencye of 
 the whyche my offence they that haue accusyd me, haue seene 
 and do knowe. Whyche innocencye to hyde & couer with som 
 faut, they haue surmysed that I haue hurte and pollutyd my 
 conscience with sacryledge, or Nygromancy, in doinge sacrifyse 
 to deuyls for ambicion or desyre of d ; jnitie. But certainely thou 
 Philozophy being in me, dyddest put awaye all desyre of mortal 
 thynges from my mynd, so that there was no place left for sacry- 
 fyse to deuyles in thy syght. 
 
 And thou diddest pour into mine eares and mynde daylye the 
 sayinge of Pytagoras which is, that god must be serued and not 
 Goddes. Nor it was not conuenyent for me, to requyre helpe of 
 vnclene spyrytes or deuyles, whome thou haddest made of such 
 excellency by wisdome, that thou wouldeste haue made me lyke 
 vnto god by vnderstandynge. Furthermore my innocent wyfe 
 of my howse, and a multitude of my honeste frendes, and my 
 father in law namyd the holy & reuerend Symachus in thys 
 behalfe do defende me from all suspicion of such offence. But 
 o thou malyce, those wycked that accusyd me doo take wytnes 
 of the (O Phylosophye) of my crime and accusation, for they 
 thought that I haue had affinitie or occasyon to inchauntmen^ 
 because I am brought vp and instructyd in thy doctryne and in- 
 formyd in thy maners. And it is not sufficyent that thy reuerece 
 do nothing profit me, but that thou rather willinglye are con- 
 tented to be blamed of them for my offence, and accusacion. 
 But yet besydes all my harmes I haue thys more hurt, that the 
 Judgement of many of the commen people do not consyder the 
 meryt and desyre of thyngs, but onelye the chaunce of fortune, 
 and doo iudge that onely such thynges be ordeyned of god, that 
 
worldelye felycytye or delyte commendeth, which is as much to 
 say : that (after the iudgement of the common people) yf a man 
 haue welthe he is a good man, and worthy to haue it. And if he 
 hath aduersitie, that he is an euyll man & worthy to haue it, and 
 that God hath forsaken hym. And soo there vpon it folowethe 
 that wretchys and vnhappye or pore folke, be not regarded, or 
 estemed. For whyche cause it greueth me to remember what 
 vnfittynge rumors and dyuerse sayinges be emongest the people 
 of me. And this I dare be bolde to say, that the last bourden of 
 euyll fortune is thys, that when my accusacion is imputed to 
 wretched folke, it is thought that they haue deserued the same 
 that they doo suffer. And certes I that am expulsyd from al 
 good folke, spoyled of my dignities, and spotted in my estyma- 
 cion by false accusacion, in stede of rewarde haue receyued 
 ponyshment, me thynketh that I do se the wyckyd companye of 
 felonowes folke abounde in ioye and gladnes, and euery vnthryft 
 lye in a wayte to accuse good folke with newe fraudes. And I 
 do se the good people lye oppressed for fere of my peryll and 
 ponysshement. And I do se euery vnthriftie person bolde to 
 comyt synne, vnponysshed beynge procured therto for money. 
 Also I do se the Innocetes not onely with oute succur, but 
 also without defence. Therfore I am forced to crye vnto god 
 of heuyn in this maner. 
 
 O Thou maker of the fyrmamente that bereth the starres, that 
 art ioyned to the eternall seat, Thou doist turne the firmamet 
 alwaies with swyfte mouynge, and makeste the starres to kepe a 
 due course, so that y e moone somtyme shynynge with her fulle 
 lyght when she is in the full, set dyrectly euyn agaynst her The further 
 brother the sonne, shyning with his beams obscureth and taketh {r ^ m theTorf 
 away the lyght of the starres by reason of the great lyghte of the tne more 'yg ht 
 same. And lykewise thou causist y' the moone other whyles pale the nere the 
 of lyght approchyng nere vnto the sonne, doo lose her lyght. sonne the lesse 
 And thou causyste the euenynge sterre called Hesperus, that appereth in 
 bryngeth in the colde in the begynnynge of the nyght, to change and coniunc-" 
 his olde course commynge agayne in the mornynge (at the son tionofthem. 
 
 Ths stccrc 
 
 rysynge) very pale, and is then called Lucyfer. Thou makest Hesperus fo- 
 the daye shorter in the wynter time when the hoare frosts be on j? w ^; th fj. 
 the ground, that maketh the leaues of trees to fall, Thou de- eueningandin 
 uydest and makest the nyghtes shorte in sommer season. Thy g eth before 
 myghty powre hathe appoynted diuers partes of the yeare, so that ! he Son > and 
 
 23 Lucifer. 
 
There be four the gentel wynde Zephirus that is to saye : Ver tyme, bryngeth 
 
 yereTVer' 6 a g a ' ne the grene leues that the wynde Boreas, that is to saye : 
 
 Somer, Au- the wynter toke awaye. And whatsoeuer sedes were sowen in 
 
 Wynter" the tyme of the sterre named acturus, are become longe corne 
 
 and ripeth in the hote time of the stere named Syrius in haruest. 
 
 Nothyng is free from the olde lawe or order of gods purueyance 
 
 or prouydece nor leuith the worke of hys place appoynted. O 
 
 Lorde God thou gouernist all these foresayde thinges to a cer- 
 
 tayne ende, whye refusyste thou to gouerne mans actes or dedes 
 
 in due order ? Why rulyste not slyppery fortune that causyth so 
 
 muche varyete or chaunge of thinges, she ponyssheth Innocentes 
 
 not giltie, with ponisshement due for the wicked, and exalteth 
 
 hygh, men of wycked maners, whyche treade vnder foote the 
 
 neckes of good folkes vniustlye. The vertuous man lieth in 
 
 darkenes and is not set by. The iust man beryth the blame of 
 
 the wyckyd periury couered with falshedde is not ponyshed. 
 
 But when the wycked persons (whome the moste parte of the 
 
 people do feare) lysteth to exercyse their powre, they reioyse to 
 
 Good & wyse subdue myghty kynges, that is to saye : good and wyse men. 
 
 rule in U f h co e m° ° S od what soeuer thou art that knyttest to gether the bondes of 
 
 mon welthe & things in due order, loke vpo wretched people dwellynge on the 
 
 ^ckeTper- earth that be not the vilest parte of thy worke, sore troubled with 
 
 sons - the bytternes of fortune, withdrawe the greate assaultes thereof, 
 
 and knyt fast, or rule the good and stedefast men of the earth, 
 
 wyth lyke bondes as thou knyttest and rulyste the hyghe heuen, 
 
 that they be not tormentyd wyth fortune, that is neuer stedfast 
 
 but euer varyable. 
 
 After that I had barckyd oute or rashly spoken these things 
 
 vnaduysedly my sorowe remaynynge styll, Phylosophy with a 
 
 quyete countenaunce beynge nothynge moued or angrye at my 
 
 complayntes, sayde vnto me thus. PHYL. When I sawe the sad 
 
 He is exiled and wepyng, I knewe by and by that thou were a wretche, and a 
 
 tre' e^hathath banyshed man, but howe farre of thou were exiled or banyshed I 
 
 lost hys wyte, knewe not but by thy owne sayinge. But yet thou art not 
 
 andhestraieth banyshed farre from thy countray, that is to saye, farre from thy 
 
 out of his cou- ow ne reason or iudgememte, but thou hast strayed out of thewaye 
 
 loweth not re- or erred a litel. But if thou woldest rather accompt thy selfe 
 
 son, ami hathe b ar) y S hed from thy countraye, then I saye thou rather haste 
 
 banished thy self. For certes to banishe the it was not lawful 
 
 for any man at any tyme, if thou remebryste what countrye 
 
 24 
 
thou were borne in. Whyche countreye is not rulyd by the 
 gouernnient of many, as the cytye of the Attheniens some- 
 tyme was gouerned. For of thy countrye is but one lord, one 
 kyng, and one prynce, whych is almyghtye God, that more 
 reioyseth at the quyete conuersation of manye Cytezens together, 
 then of theyr exyle and banyshement. By whose precepts to be 
 ruled, and to obeye hys iustyce, is very hygh lybertye. 
 
 Hast thou forgotten the old lawe of thy Citie ? wherein it is 
 establissed for a law that who soeuer had determyned therin to 
 dwell may not be banysshed from thens. But who soeuer hath 
 no desyre therein to dwel hath not deserued to be therein. Yet 
 the disposition and maner of this place of exyle doth not so 
 muche moue me, as thy face onelye whyche is the inwarde dis- 
 position of thy mynd. I do not requyre the walles of thy librari 
 deckyd with Iuorye and glasse, rather the the quietnes of the 
 inward thought of thy mynde, wherin I do not set and lay bokes, 
 but wise sentences that maketh the bookes to be precyous or 
 estemed. And Certes Boecius, thou haste sayd and declared the 
 truth of thy dedes done for the common vtilitie and profyt of the 
 people. But thou hast declared lytell of the commoditie that 
 thou hast had, by the multytude of thy actes and dedes. And 
 thou haste recyted thinges manifest to all men, of the honesty, 
 that is to saye : of the saluation of the senate, or of the falsehead, 
 that is to sai : of the forgyng of letters to themperor, imputyd to 
 the and layd to thy charge. The wyckednes and deceyts of thy 
 accusars thou hast touchyd playnely, and verye strayte, albeit 
 the thyngs might haue bene better spoken of & more fully by 
 voyce of the come people that knew it. Thou hast much blamed 
 the acte of the vniuste senate, and hathe lamented for my blame, 
 and hou haste bewayled the losse of thy good name. Laste of 
 all thou haste complayned vpon fortune, that rewardes be not 
 equally distrybuted to men accordyng to their desertes. And in 
 the ende of thy furyous meter, thou hast prayed that the same 
 peace of the dyuyne purueyans or prouydence, may rule men on 
 earth as it ruleth the heuen. But for bycause that manye passions, 
 and trybulatyos haue greuyd the, and that dolor anger and 
 heuynes turneth thy mynd dyuersly as it appereth nowe : There- 
 fore as yet thou shalt not tast the stronge medicine in thy 
 weakenes, but suche as be somewhat easy, whereby the thynges 
 that by longe increase of corruption & paine haue growen vnto 
 
 25 E 
 
an hard swellynge, by softe handelynge of le'nytyue medycynes 
 may be dissolued and made more apte to suffer the vyolence of 
 stronger remedyes. 
 
 He that soweth anye sedes in the grounde when that the sonne 
 is in the sygne of Cancer (whyche is in the monethe of June, 
 when that sygne waxeth hote with the sonne beames) maye eate 
 acorns of the oke tree, for any hope of corne that he is lyke to 
 haue growinge of suche sowyng of his seades. And let no man 
 seke to gather violettes in the floryshyng wodes, whe the fieldes 
 sowndyng wyth the blusterynge cold wynd named Aquilo, bryngyth 
 fourth no flowers at all. Nor let any man loke to gather grapes 
 in the sprynge tyme called Ver, when al thinges do begyn fyrst 
 to budde and grow. For the god of wyne called Bachus (after 
 the faynynge of poetes) bryngethe forth his fruytes, that is to say : 
 grapes rather in Autumpne, whych is the end of sommer. For 
 God hathe appoynted the tymes of the year, and hathe directed 
 them euery one to hys proper offyce and hath so establyshed 
 them, that he wyll not suffer them to be altred, y' the tyme 
 ordeined for one offyce, shall serue for a nother. The thing ther- 
 fore that chaungethe hys due order, neuer hath good ende thereof. 
 
 Phil. 
 
 O Boecius, before I geue the any medycine, tell me fyrst 
 whether thou wylte suffer me to demaud of the certayne ques- 
 tyons for to knowe the state of thy mynd, whereby I may 
 the better vnderstand howe to cure the of thy dyssease ? Boeci. 
 I saye aske me whatsoeuer k please the that I may answere the. 
 Phil. Then the sayde phylosophye sayde : Thynkyst thou that 
 the worlde is gouernyd by folyshe and by casuall chaunces ? or 
 beleuyst thou that it is rulyd by reason, that is to saye : by gods 
 puruiaunce ? B. Truly I say y' I neuer thought by any maner of 
 means that suche certayne thynges should be rulyd by the 
 folyshe happe of fortune. But I doo knowe that almyghty God 
 the creatoure of things rulith his own worke, and I neuer sawe 
 the tyme that coulde turne me from the truth thereof. P. It is 
 eue so, for thou saidest so a lytle before, and lamentedest that 
 mankinde was not gouerned by the dyuyne puruyans of God, not 
 doubtynge but that other creatours were ruled by the saide diuine 
 ordinaunce. But O, I do gretly wondre why thou art sycke for 
 
 26 
 
so moch as thou art set in so good opinion. Neuertheles, let us 
 serche deper : I do thynke that some thynge is yet amysse with 
 the, but I cannot tell what it is. Saye to me Boecius (for as moch 
 as thou doutiste not but that almyghtye god ruleth the worlde) 
 doest thou knowe howe he gouerneth it ? BOE. I do scarsely 
 vnderstande what thou menist by thy question, and as yet I can- 
 not answere the to the same question. Phil. I was not 
 deceyued in that I sayd som thyng was amysse wyth the, for the 
 syckenes of perturbacion or trouble hathe crepte into thy mynde 
 as by an open way that hath no impediment, or stoppe. But tel 
 me, doist thou remember what is the ende of all thynges naturall ? 
 BOE. I have harde it, but heuynes hath caused me to forget it. 
 Phil. Knowes thou of who al things haue taken theyr beginning ? 
 Boe. I saye I haue knowen and haue answered, that God is the 
 begynnynge of al thinges. Phil. Then howe maye it be that 
 (synce thou knowest the begynnynge of all thynges) thou knowest 
 not the ende of the same ? But suche be the maners of troubles, 
 and such be theyr strengthe that they maye cause a man to for- 
 gette partelye, but cannotte plucke awaye from hym all together. 
 But I woulde that thou woldest aunswere me to thys question. 
 Remebrest thou that thou art a man ? Boe. Why should I not 
 remember it ? Phi. Canste thou tell than what thynge a man is ? 
 BOECI. Askiste me thys ? Or whether that I do knowe that 
 I am a resonable and a mortall beste ? I do knowe & confesse 
 that I am so. Phil. Knowest thou whether thou were any other 
 thynge? BOE. None other thynge. Phil. Nowe knowe I 
 another great cause of thy disease. Thou haste forgotten to 
 knowe thy selfe, what thou arte. Wherefore I haue found fully 
 the cause of thy sicknes, or els the maner and wayes how to 
 recouer the of the same. For bycause thou haddest forgotten 
 thy selfe what thou art, therefore thou hast complayned that 
 thou art both a banyshed ma, and spoyled and robbed of thy 
 own proper goodes, and ryches, temporall. And no meruayle it 
 is, for thou wotyst not what is the ende of al thyngs, and thou 
 thynkest that euyll men and wicked be myghtye and happye. 
 And why so? because thou hast forgotten by what meanes the 
 worlde is gouernyd. And thou thynkest that these mutacios and 
 chaunces of fortune.dowanderwythout anye gouernoure. Whyche 
 be the greate causes not onelye of syckenes, but also of vtter 
 destruction and death. But thou art bounde to geue thankes to 
 
 27 
 
the Author of helthe, that nature is not cleane extynct in the, but 
 that some strength yet remayneth. And I haue a great restoritie 
 towardes thy healthe, that is to say : the trew vnderstanding of 
 the worlds gouernauce in that thou beleuyst that it is not gouerned 
 by the folishe chaunces of fortune, but subiect to goddes ordy- 
 naunce. Therfore feare not, for of this lytle sparke of truth, the 
 lyuely heate shall reuyue & recouer his olde strength agayne. 
 But forasmoche as now, it is no time to vse stronger medicines, 
 & that the nature of mens mindes is suche, that when they haue 
 forsaken trewe opynyons, they receyue false opinions and errours, 
 whereof spryngeth the darkenes of perturbacion, or trouble of the 
 minde that taketh away the treue lyght of vnderstanding of the 
 same. But I wyll proue to remoue a lytell the same darkenes 
 with easy and moderate medicynes. That after that the darke 
 cloudes of false affectes be taken or remoued awaye, thou 
 mayst beholde and know the cleare lyght of the verye 
 truethe. 
 
 As the sterres, beynge couered with darke cloudes, can giue 
 no lyghte to the earth. And as the troublous wynde named Auster, 
 moueth the sea with heat, and causeth the water (that before 
 was clere as glasse, and lyke the cleare day) to become foul and 
 thycke by reason of the mudde, or fylthe, that is dysolued and 
 styrred vp from the bottom, so that a man can not se, any 
 thynge within the water. And lykewise as the stone, fallen from 
 some hyghe Rockes, into the water, dothe let and trouble the 
 water course, that renneth from the hyghe hyll : Euen so, ioye, 
 feare, hope, and dolour, do interrupte, and tourne the mynde of 
 man, from knowledge of the truth. For the mynd that is 
 troubled, w any of these thynges, is darked and bounde, as 
 it were in bondes or chaynes. Therfore yf thou wilt se the 
 trueth, with a cleare syght, and come to the knoledge of the 
 treuth, by a ryghte pathe : Ioye not in worldlye, or temporall 
 thynges, put awaye feare of euyll fortune to come. Truste not 
 in good fortune, and be not sorye for the losse of worldlye goodes. 
 For the mynd is darked and bound, as it were in bondes, where 
 these thinges do reygne. 
 
 Here endeth the fyrste Booke. 
 
 28 
 
THE SECOND BOKE. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 i FTER this phylosophy held her peace a lytel whyle, 
 and then she by a modeste styllnes perceyuing me, 
 dylygent and intentyfe to heare her speake : said as 
 folowethe. Phil. Forasmuche as I haue knowen 
 and founde out the originall causes, and the disposition of 
 thy syckenes, O Boecius, that is to saye : that thou arte sycke 
 for the losse of thy former fortune that was prosperous, & nowe 
 beyng chaungyd as thou surmysest, hath chaunged and turnyd 
 the disposition of thy mynde. I do wel know the manyfolde 
 deceytes of the sayde fortune, for so long she vsyth hyr famylier 
 flatterye, with them whom she intendethe to deceyue, vntyl she 
 hathe ouerthrowen them sodenly with intollerable greife and 
 sorowe, whome she hath forsaken and left in dyspayre of any 
 coforte agayne. Whose nature maners & dygnytie> yf thou do 
 consyder, thou shalt perceyue that nether thou haddest in her, nor 
 hast lost by her, anye good thinge at all. But I thynke I shall 
 not laboure muche to brynge these thinges of fortunes goodnes 
 into thy remembraunce. For thou were wonte to re-rebuke wyth 
 sharpe wordes the same fortune both beyng present and flatter- 
 ynge, and thou didest argue or dispute agaynste her wyth 
 sentences, drawen out of my doctryne or informacio. But truly 
 euery sodein mutacion or chauge of thynges cometh not wythoute 
 some trouble of the mynde. So it is done and commeth to passe, 
 that thou art fallen a lytel from the quietnes of thy mynde that 
 thou were in before. But it is tyme that thou do receiue and 
 taste som easye and pleasaunt thynge, which after that it is 
 entred into the inwarde partes of thy mynde, it may prepare 
 a waye for stronger medycynes. Therefore behold the per- 
 
 29 
 
swasion of the swetnes of Rethoryke is presente, that goeth for- 
 warde, then onely in the ryghte way, when she foloweth my 
 precepts. And with Rethoryke is a mayd of my howse, named 
 Musyke, that syngeth nowe lyghter mesures, & now greater 
 mesures. What thynge is it therfore, (O thou man,) that hath 
 caste the into heuynes, and wepynges ? I beleue that thou hast 
 seene some straunge thinge. If thou dost thynke that fortune is 
 turned agaynst the : thou art therin deceyued, for she is not 
 chaunged, these were her maners alwayes, this is her proper nature, 
 to be nowe prosperous and nowe contrarye. And she hathe 
 rather kept her owne nature and constancy aboute the in this her 
 mutabylite. Truelye she was alwaies such when she flattred the, 
 & deceyued the, with the delite of false profyte. Thou hast 
 knowen the doubtfull countenaunce of that blynde goddes for- 
 tune, which although she do hyde her selfe vnto some men, 
 in promysyng them prosperyte : hath shewed her selfe many 
 festlye and holye as she is to the, that is to saye : inconstaiit. 
 If thou allow her : vse her maners, and coplain not. If thou 
 feare her falsehed : refuse her & forsake her, as one whose 
 pastime is perillous and hurtfull. For fortune, whiche nowe 
 is the cause of thy great heuines and greif : ought to be the 
 cause of thy quyetnes and reste. But certes she hath forsaken 
 the, as she hath done other. For neuer man yet was sure of her. 
 Accomptest thou that thynge happy and prosperous that wyll 
 not tarye and remayne ? And is fortunes presence so precious to 
 the, that is so slipperye and wil not tary ? And also when she 
 departeth from the, she bringeth in heuynes and mornyng ? 
 Therfore syns that fortune can not be retayned as a man wolde 
 haue her, and when she departeth she maketh men carefull, what 
 other thynge is slypperye fortune but a certain token of 
 wretchednes to come ? And it is not sufficiente to beholde the 
 thinge presente, but it is wysedome to consyder the ende of 
 all thynges, & the chaungynge from one thynge to another, 
 maketh that the threatnynges of fortune are not to be fearid, nor 
 her flatterynges to be desyryd. Moreouer thou oughtest to 
 suffer paciently all thinges y' be done within the compasse, & 
 boundes of fortune, that is to say : al worldlye thynges, syns thou 
 hast submytted thy selfe to her yoke by desyre of temporall 
 thyngs. But if thou wilt prescribe a lawe to Fortune to tarye or 
 departe hence, whome thou of thyne owne free wyll, hast chosen 
 
 30 
 
for thy lady : thynkest thou not that thou doeste her wronge 
 therein ? And that by thy impacyence thou makest her wrouth 
 and angrye ? Whom thou canste not chaunge other wyse then 
 she list her selfe. If thou commytte the sayles of thy shyppes» 
 to the wyndes, thou goyst not whyther thou wouldeste thy selfe, 
 but whyther the wynde dryuethe the. If thou sowe thy sedes in 
 the feldes, thou muste consyder that the yeres be somtyme 
 plentious, & other whyles scarse or baren, so that it is not in thy 
 powre, to order & rule the yeare as thou lystethe. Lyke wyse 
 thou haste submytted thy selfe to fortunes gouernaunce, therfore 
 it behoueth the to obeye the maners of her beynge thy lady and 
 mystres. Certes thou laborest to staye her tournynge whele. 
 O, thou fole of al foles mortall, if fortune bega to be stedefaste 
 and not mutable, she myght not be called fortune. 
 
 Phyl. 
 
 When y' fortune with her prouderyght hande, causyth mutatyon 
 aswel of aduersytie as of prosperytye. And when she is caryed Euripe is a 
 aboute as the boylynge floud named eurype. Then she beynge thatVoweth^ 
 cruell deposyth kynges, that sometyme were fearefull to other : dyuersly some 
 & exalteth the pore & simple, that were subdued and ouercome. andanon, that 
 She regardith not the carefull that wepythe, nor heryth the that wa y clen 
 wretched that wantith. She is so hard hartid that she laughith 
 at the mourninges, of such as she hath made carefull. Suche is 
 her pastyme, thus she proueth her power and stregth. She 
 sheweth a great bost or fayre face to her seruantes that gapeth 
 for worldlye thinges, when a man is sene ouerthrowen and 
 exaltyd in one howre. These be the wonderous workes of 
 fortune, when a man shalbe vp and doune in a shorte tyme, 
 that is now in auctorytie and nowe not estemed or abiecte. 
 
 Philosophy talketh with Boecius in the stede of fortune sayenge. 
 
 Phi. 
 
 I wolde fayne talke with the (Boecius) a few wordes (with the 
 sayenges of fortune, or in the stede of fortune) therfore take 
 thou good hede whether that she asketh the thynge, that is right 
 and lawfull. O thou man, wherfore makest thou me a wronge 
 doer and gilty, with thy contynuall complayntes ? What wronge 
 
 3i 
 
haue I done the ? What goodes haue I taken from the ? Reason 
 with me before what Iudge thou wilt, of possessions, riches or 
 other dignities, whether that any man lyuynge, can clayme any 
 of theym to be his owne. I wyll gyue the glad lye suche that 
 thou prouist to be thi owne proper. For whe nature brought 
 the out of thy mothers wombe, I receyued the all naked, without 
 any thyng, and cherisshed the with myne owne goodes, and was 
 redye to norishe the more mekely of mine owne gentlenes, & I 
 endued the with aboundance, & with the beaute of all thinge y' 
 I had, which thinges maketh the now so angry and cruel agaynst 
 me. Now it pleseth me to withdraw my hand, thou oughtest to 
 thake me for vsing of goods that were none of thyne. Thou 
 hast no iust cause to complaine as though thou haddest loste thy 
 goodes vtterly. Therfore why mournyst thou ? I haue done 
 the no wronge. Ryches, Honour, and suche lyke, be myne 
 owne, and they beyng my seruauntes, do knowe me for their 
 ladye and mystres, they do come wyth me, and do go awaye 
 wyth me. I dare boldely say, that yf those things that thou 
 complaynyst to be lost, were thyne : thou could not haue loste 
 them by anye meanes. Should I alone be defended to vse my 
 owne ryght ? It is lawfull for the firmamente to make cleare 
 bryght daye, and after that to shadowe the same againe with the 
 darke night. It is also lawefull for the yere to decke the grounde 
 sometyme (as in the Ver) with flowers, other whyles (as in 
 sommer) with corne, and to dystroye the same agayne (as in 
 Autumpne & wynter) with rayne and colde. It is lawfull for 
 the sea, (in a caulme) to be playne and smothe, and in tyme of 
 tempeste, to be roughe and raginge, with floudes and' stormes. 
 Shoulde the insaciate couetuousnes of man, bynde me to be 
 stedfast agaynst my nature ? This is my power and this is 
 always my play. I do turne the wauerynge whele rounde aboute, 
 that neuer cessith. I do reioise to chang low thynges, that is to 
 say : Aduersitie, with high things, y' is to sai, prosperytie. 
 Clyme upon my whele if thou wilt but upon this conditio, that 
 'thou shalte not iudge that I do the anye wrong, yf thou fall or 
 come downe, when I lyste to play. Knewest not thou my 
 maners ? Knewest not thou Cresus kynge of the Lydeens, of 
 whome Cyrus the Kynge of Persiens, was sore afferd, a lytel 
 before that Cyrus toke Cresus, in batel, and led hym to the 
 fyer to be brennyd, but that a raygne fell from heuen, and 
 
 32 
 
sauyd hym, whereby he escaped. And hast thou forgotten 
 howe that Paulus a consull of Rome, wepte for the myserye 
 of the kynge of Persyens, whom he had taken prysoner and 
 captyue. 
 
 What other thynge causyth the exclamation, and lamentation Tragedie is a 
 
 of tragidies .? But onelye that I fortune, sodenly by my rashe myn^vyc'e*', 
 
 stroke, haue subuertyd noble kyngedomes that were sometyme whiche do 
 
 prosperous. Hast thou not learnyd (when thou were a younge pr lsperytie 
 
 man) that there laye in the entrye at Jupyters house two tunnes & end . e with 
 
 of wyne, the one full of good wine, thother ful of euil wine, of j up i ters ' house 
 
 the whyche euery man (that entred) must nedes tast ? What is th e worlde 
 
 cause hast thou to complayne, if thou hast taken more parte of f wyne, beto- 
 
 the good (that is to say) of prosperitie then of aduersitye ? And ken . eth P™s- 
 
 what and I amnot clene gone fro the ? What and my vnstede- aduersitie, 
 
 fastnes be a iuste cause for the, to hope for better thynges ? ^^f^e 
 
 dyspayre the not therefore, and desyre not to lyue after thy owne worlde muste 
 mynde, & wyll, although thou be placyd in the worlde whyche 
 is commen and indifferent for all lyuyng thynges. 
 
 Fortune speaketh. 
 
 If that Fortune (whom the gentils do call the goddes of The ful home 
 
 plenty) woulde geue wyth a full home, that is to sai abound- j. s *y f y e e 
 
 auntlye, as much ryches as the water of the sea turnyth vppe plentie, or 
 
 grauell, when it is tossed and mouid with the ragynge wyndes. f™ Ha'ciiles 
 
 And would geue asmuche Ryches as there be starres, shynyng wrastlyng 
 
 ~ ■ , , • i i i i , wlth Achileus 
 
 in the nrmamet in a clere bright nyght, when the sterres do (whiche was 
 
 appere and shyne. And woulde neuer wythdrawe her hands, [ n to S k™n d 
 
 but powre downe and geue ryches continuallye : yet for al that tooke hym by 
 
 ~. . . . "' . -j , . a i the home and 
 
 makynde would not cesse wepynge and coplayning. And brake it and 
 
 although that god, that is so ryche of gold, would gladely here filIed il ful1 of 
 
 ? , , i i ■ , apples and 
 
 mans desyres and requestes, and geue them neuer so plentiouslye, swete flowers, 
 
 and decke the couetous men with hygh honour: yet are they f n C etherwHh' 
 
 not contentyd. But it semyth vnto the, as they had gotten too fortune, 
 
 nothinge. Suche is their insaciate couetus, deuouring that, y* fi^is ful^itTs 
 
 they haue gotte and euer gapyng, redy to receyue more and taken for pros. 
 
 ° , , ,. pente, and 
 
 more. Therefore, what brydel can holde to any stedefast ende, w he it is em P - 
 
 the gredye couytuousnes of men ? when that the more they J.' e " , 1S u Yf n 
 abounde in ryches, the mors they thyrst and desyre to haue : 
 Soo he that fearyth that he shall lacke, and is not contented 
 
 33 i- - 
 
with that he hath, but soroweth for more, accompting him selfe 
 pore, hath neuer ynough, and so is not ryche, but poore. 
 
 Phylosophy speketh. 
 
 Therefore, yf that fortune spake wyth the for hyrselfe after 
 thys maner before sayde, Certes thou haddest nothinge to 
 answere her wythall. And yf thou haddest any ethyng to de- 
 fende rightfully thy complaynt withall, it behouyth the to 
 shewe it. 
 
 Boe. Then I saye, that the thynges that fortune hath sayde 
 be goodly, and made swete with the pleasure of Rhetorike and 
 musike, and then onely they delyghte men, when they be harde. 
 But yet the felinge of sorowe & greifes is more depe, & 
 paynfull vnto the diseased, and wretched people, then the sayd 
 pleasaunte wordes can helpe and ease. For when the words of 
 fortune do leue of to sound in myne eares, the former greife 
 commeth againe, and ouermuch greuyth my mynde. 
 
 PHIL. And thou saiest ryght soth. For the sayd wordes of 
 fortune be no medicyns for thy disease, but rather nouryshynges 
 agaynste the cure of thy greife. For the medycynes, that shulde 
 serche vnto the very botom of thy sores, and take awaye the 
 primatyue cause thereof, I wyl declare vnto the, when tyme 
 shall requyre. 
 
 Neuerthelesse, esteme not thy self a wretche, or clene forsaken. 
 Hast thou forgotten the number and maner of thy prosperitye ? 
 I do passe ouer, and nede not shew howe that the noble men 
 of the Cytye of Rome, whyche were Consulles, toke charge of 
 the, beynge an orphant withoute father and mother, and that 
 thou were chosen and elect into the affinite of Princes of y" 
 Cytye. And thou begannyst rather to be dere and welbeloued, 
 then a neyghboure, the whiche is the most precyous kynd of 
 Aliaunce. What man would not iudge the most happye, that 
 haddyst suche a father in lawe, such a chast wyfe, and such good 
 chaunces of thy men chyldren as thou haste ? And besydes this 
 (I am disposed to passe ouer commen thynges) I doo not speake 
 of the dygnytyes that thou haddest in thy youth, whych are 
 denyed to old folke that is to say, scarse any olde folke coulde 
 attayne vnto anye suche. For nowe it delyghtethe me to come 
 vnto, and remember the singuler aboundaiice or hepe of thy 
 
 34 
 
prosperities. So that if any fruit of worldly and trasitorye 
 thinges, myght be accountyd felycytye, or prosperitie, myghteste 
 thou forgette (for any hurte that myght happen) the day that 
 thou sawiste thy two sonnes made Consuls, and ladde together 
 from thy house with so greate asseble of Senators, & wyth so 
 greate Ioy of the people ? And whan thou sawest them set in 
 the courte, in the Chayres of hygh dignitie and iudgement, thou 
 thy selfe beinge an orator, or speaker of kynges laude and 
 praysynges, dyddyst deserue glory of wytte and eloquence, when 
 that thou (syttyng in the middes of thy two sonnes beyng 
 consules) diddyst satysfye and please the expectatyon of the 
 multytude of the people that was aboute the, wyth tryumphante 
 laude and prayse of vyctorye ? 
 
 Thou then (as I thynke) didest deceyue Fortune with thy 
 gloryous wordes, when that she thus fauored the, and cheryshed 
 the as her owne derlynges. Thou dydest beare awaye from 
 fortune, such a gyft and reward, that she neuer gaue to any 
 pryuate man. Wylt thou call Fortune to accompte nowe for 
 anye thynge : She hath nowe firste wynkyd vpon the, wyth her 
 frownynge or cruell countenaunces or lokynge. And yf thou 
 couldest consider the number and maner of myrthe and sorowe, 
 that is to saye : of thy prosperitie and aduersitie, thou cannyste 
 not denye but that thou art yet happye. For if thou countist 
 thyselfe therfore vnhappye, by cause those thinges be gone that 
 semyd happye & good : yet thou oughteste not to esteme 
 thy selfe a wretche or an abiecte. For the thinges that nowe 
 seme vnhappye and sorowefull, do passe awaye. Arte thou the 
 fyrst that art be com a sodeine geste into the shadowe of thys 
 lyfe, or thynkest y u that ther is any certayntie or stedfastnes in 
 worldelye thynges ? When y* the swyft hour of deth taketh 
 awaye the same man, that is to saye Mans lyfe ? For althoughe 
 there is seldome any hope that the goddys of fortune woulde 
 contynue, yet is the latter daye of mans lyfe in maner a death 
 to fortune. What matter is it therfore as thou thynkeste, whether 
 that thou dyinge, forsake fortune, or she fleinge awaye, forsake 
 the ? That is to saye : Whether thou by death of thy bodye, 
 forsake fortune, or Fortune by flyinge from the, forsake the ? 
 Surely no matter or difference it is. 
 
 35 
 
Phil. 
 
 When the sonne begynnythe to send orgeue forthe hys lyghte, 
 with his bryght glysteryng red charetes, then the bryghte daye 
 sterre, beyng obscuryd, dymmed, or dullyd in her beautie and 
 countenaunce, becommeth pale and wan, & loseth her cleare 
 lyght, by the greate bryghtenes of the sonne. And when the 
 woode waxethe freshe, gaye, and redde with rosye or redde 
 flowers, in the fyrst sommer season, with the blowynge of the 
 warme wynde named Zephirus : If the cloudye wynde named 
 Auster do begynne to blowe boysteouslye and roughelye : then 
 the beautie of the freshe flowers do clene vanyshe awaye from 
 the thornes. The sea is ofte smothe and calme when the floudes 
 be not mouyd. And ofte the stormye wynde Aquilo, stereth 
 horrible tempestes, and ouerturnythe the sea, If the forme of 
 thys worlde be so seldom stedefast, and turnythe wyth so many 
 alteracions & chaunges : why then wylte thou put confydence 
 in the vnstedefast fortunes of men ? Or wylte thou trust to the 
 goodes of fortune, that be vncertayne and transitorye? It is 
 manyfest and establyshed by gods law, perdurable, that nothynge 
 gotten or engendred, is alwayes stedefaste and stable. 
 
 BOE. 
 
 O thou noryce of al vertues, thou sayest treuthe. I cannot 
 deny the swyfte course of my prosperytye. But thys is the 
 thynge that moste greuyth me, when that I doo remember y* I 
 was happye or in prosperitye. For in all aduersitie of Fortune, 
 the mooste greife of aduersitie, is to remember, that I haue bene 
 in prosperitie. 
 
 Phil. But what thoughe y' thou sufferest ponishmet of false 
 opinion, thou mayste not impute the same to the lacke of thynges, 
 as though thou haddest nothynge. For thou hast many thynges 
 lefte yet. For yf the vaine name of causuall prosperyte, do 
 moue the : it is mete that thou accompt and reken with me, 
 howe moche & howe great ryches thou hast yet in store. If 
 therfore the thynge that thou hadst, & dyd possesse, most 
 precious and best in all the treasure of thy fortune, be reserued 
 yet vnto y" by gods grace vnspotted and inuyolate, mayst thou 
 
 36 
 
ryghtfullye complayne vpon the myschaunce of fortune, hauynge 
 styll thy best thynges ? Certes the same precious worshyp of 
 mankind, Simachus thy father in lawe, is in good helthe, a wyse 
 man, & a vertuous man for whose sake thou wouldyst be redye 
 to ieopard thy lyfe if nede were, he beynge a man fautles, is 
 sorye for thy iniuryes. 
 
 Thy wyfe also lyueth, both sober of wytte, and excellent in 
 clenes of chastite, and shortely to conclude all her vertues, she is 
 lyke her father Symachus. She lyueth, I saye, to the, and she 
 beynge wery of her lyfe, kepyth her lyfe for thy sake, being 
 ouercome with wepynge, and sorowe, for lacke of the. In the 
 whyche one thyng I must nedes graiit that thy felicitie is 
 mynyshed. 
 
 What shall I saye of thy two sonnes beynge Consulles, in 
 whom there shynyth the wyscdome of theyr father, and of theyr 
 graundefather, as muche as is possyble to be in chylders of theyr 
 age, but yet the cheyfe cure of al men lyuyng is to conserue 
 theyr owne lyfes. O thou man yf thou remember thy selfe, the 
 goodes that thou hast yet remaynyng, do make the happye. 
 Whyche goodes, no man douthtyth, but that they be derer and 
 more to be estemyd, then thy owne lyfe. Therefore nowe wype 
 thy eyes and wepe no more, for fortune is not all agaynste the, 
 nor the stronge tempest of aduersitie hath yet touchyd the, for 
 thy ankers, that is to saye : thy frendes do styke fast to the, 
 whych will not suffer the to wante comforte of the tyme presente, 
 nor hope of the tyme to come. 
 
 Boe. And I do wyshe that they maye cleue fast, and abyde, for 
 whyles that they doo remayne, howe soeuer thynges be, or how- 
 soeuer the world goeth, I shal escape and do wel. But thou 
 seyst howe that thapparell and outewarde goodes that I had be 
 now gone. 
 
 Phil. But I haue somwhat comfortyd the, yf thou forthinke 
 the not of all thy hole fortune, for thou hast y e best goods styll. 
 But I maye not suffer thy delyces or tendernes, that thou 
 wepynge and sorowefull, complaynyst that thou lackyst somewhat 
 of thy prosperytie. For what man is so full of prosperytie, that 
 doth not complayne, or is not pleasyd wyth some parte of hys 
 estate or degre ? For the estate & condition of worldlye goodes, 
 is so carefull a thynge, that eyther is commeth neuer to a man 
 together holye, or ells it neuer contynueth styll wyth him. For 
 
 37 
 
although one man hath aboundaunce and plentye of monye, yet 
 he lackyth another thyng that is to saye, he is ashamed of his 
 ignobilytie, that he is no gentylman borne. And another man is 
 well knowen for a gentyll man, but yet he is so nedye & poore 
 that he had leuer be vnknowen of his gentyles bloude. Another 
 hathe both aboundaunce of goodes, and is noble, and yet he 
 bewaylethe hys chaste lyfe, that he may not marye a wyfe. 
 Another is happely maryed and hathe no chyldren, and gathereth 
 treasure for a straunge heyre. Another is happye wyth chyldren, 
 but he beyng sorowful for the synes and offences of hys sonne 
 or doughter, wepyth. Therfore no ma (for the most parte) is con- 
 tentyd wyth hys estate or degre of fortune. For euerye man hath 
 some thinge, that (being not prouyd) he knoweth not, or beynge 
 prouyd, he ferythe. And adde thereto that euerye welthye man 
 hath such delycate felynge, that (except he hath all thynges at 
 his commaundement) he is so impacient in aduersitie, that he is 
 ouerthrowen, and dysplesyd wyth euery lytel thynge. And very 
 small things they be in aduersytye, that draweth awaye the 
 cheyfe perfection of prosperitie from them that be moste fortunate. 
 How many men (thinkest thou) wolde thynke them selfe nexte 
 vnto heauen, y' is to saye : welthy, yf that they myghte haue but 
 the lest parte of the resydue of thy fortune that remayneth with 
 the. This place that thou callest an exyle : is a countrie to them 
 that dwell therin. So that no man is wretched or abiect, but 
 he that iudgeth hymself so. And cotrary wyse, all fortune is 
 good to hym that is conteted. What man is he that is so welthy, 
 but wold wishe to chauge his estate, when he is not conteted 
 therwithall? How moch bytternes is mixed with the sweetnes 
 of mans prosperite, which prosperite, although it seme plesaunt 
 to hym that hath it, can not be so kept as a man wolde haue it," 
 but when it lysteth, it gothe awaye. 
 There be two Therfore, it appereth howe wretched is the prosperytie of 
 manersoffily- mor tall thynges, which do not alwayescontynuewith theym that 
 
 citie the one is j o • 1,111 
 
 aquyetmynde be pacient, & contented, nor deliteth hooly the wretched man, 
 turlir & th" a impacient. O you mortall men, wherfore seke you in outward 
 same is vnper- thynges, the felicitie that is establisshed within you ? Errour 
 is in the lyfe" and ignoraunce confoundeth you. I shall shewe the shortlye, 
 eueriastynge, tfie roote of hye felicitie in this lyfe. Is there any thyng more 
 
 and the same J J J J t> 
 
 is perfyte. precious to the, then thyne owne selfe. 
 
 Thou wylt answere & say naye. Then yf that thie mynde 
 
 33 
 
be quyet and hoole, thou shalt possesse the thynge that thou 
 woldest not lese at any tyme, nor fortune can take it from the. 
 And to thentent that thou mayst knowe, that felycitie can not 
 stand in fortunes thinges, or worldly things, y u maist thus gather 
 and vnderstand therof. If that felicitie be the souereygne bountie 
 or goodnes of nature, lyuyng by reason, truly that can not be 
 souerayne good, that maye be taken awaye by any meanes : but 
 that thynge is more excellent, that can not be taken awaye. 
 Than it is playne that vnstedfastnes of fortune maye not attayne 
 to receyue beatytude, that is to say : perfyte felycitie. 
 
 More ouer, that man, that this tomblynge or rollynge vnperfyte 
 felycitie, or goodnes, caryeth aboute, eyther knoweth that it is 
 mutable, or els he knoweth it not. If he knoweth it not, what : 
 blissed or good fortune may be to the blindnes of ignoraiice ? 
 And if he knoweth that it is mutable, then he oughte to feare y' 
 he loose not that thynge that he dowteth not, but that he maye 
 loose it, therfore contynuall feare wyll not suffre hym to be 
 blyssed or happy. 
 
 If he do loose it, that is to saye : yf he lose temporal felycitie, 
 or ryches of fortune, and do lytle or nothing esteme it, the is it 
 of smale valour that a man can take in good worthe, whe it is 
 lost. And for bycause I know, that thou thy selfe art the man, 
 to who it hath ben perswaded and declared by many reasons 
 & demonstracions, that the soules of mankynde, be in no wyse 
 mortal or do dye : And syth also it is manyfest, that fortunes 
 felycitie is ended by the death of the body humayne, or of man- 
 kynde, it maye not be dowted (yf this fortunes felicite myght 
 take away perfyte felycitie or blyssednes) but that all mankynde 
 in the ende of death, falleth into myserie & wretchednes. 
 And for so muche as I do knowe, that many holy men haue 
 fought for the fruyte of perfyte felycitie, not onely by the death 
 of theyr bodyes, but also by paynes and ponysshementes, by 
 what meaynes then may this mortall lyfe present, garnysshed 
 with fortunes felycitie : that is to saye : with worldlye thynges, 
 make men blessed, whiche when it is paste & ended, can not 
 make theym wretched. 
 
 Whosoeuer is wyse and stedefast, and would appoynt hymselfe The toppe of 
 a firme and suer sete or house that wyll not be ouerthrowen f h g t h prosce-'" 
 wyth the troblous blastes of the winde named Euras, and careth ry tie - 
 howe to auoyde the sea threatnyng with his floudes. Let hym Auster syg^y- 6 
 
 39 
 
fyeth enuy, forsake and not buylde vpon the toppe of an high hyll nor vpon 
 of Nobl/me" the m °y s t grauell or sandes. For the fell wynde named Auster 
 that assauteth troubleth the hyll top. And the moist grauell or sand will beare 
 
 hygh prospe- 
 
 rite. The no slydyng wayghte. Therefore yf thou wylte fle and auoyde 
 
 ™°y s t grauell ^g p er yi ous chauces of pleasaunt dwellyng : Remember cer- 
 
 nyfyeth pouer- taynely to fasten & buylde thy house vpon a low rocke. For 
 
 nouuffre the" tnen althoughe the wynde beinge troubelsome wythe his ouer- 
 
 slyding wayte tourning Wastes troubleth the sea, thou being happye and 
 
 indygence, & ' quyetly set in a lowe vallye of suertye and defence shalt leade 
 
 nedeofthinges a c l e re lyfe, caryng nothing for the furious aver or wynde. 
 
 necessane. J ° ° J 
 
 The lowe By this metyr is ment that it is better for a ma to leade a 
 
 eth k the'meane meane lyfe then to couet to high or to lowe for in high 
 lyfe- prosperytie dignitie and auctoritie is great iobardy, for it draweth 
 
 to it enuy of the nobilite. And extreme pouerty is to be 
 eschewed, for nede compelleth a man to begge or steale. And 
 the meane betwene bothe is most suer and quyet, & con- 
 sequently of them that be wyse, to be desyred. 
 
 Phil. 
 
 But forasmuche as the medicynes, of my resons aforesayd, do 
 begyn to enter into the, I do now thynke it tyme to vse more 
 stronger medycins that is to say : stronger reasons. Come of 
 and harken vnto me. If that y e gifts of fortune were not bryttell, 
 frayle, and transytorie, what thing is in them that may be thyne 
 at any tyme, or that waxeth not vile, fylthye and foule yf it be 
 well perceyued and consydered. 
 
 Be ryches of their owne nature precyous ? or by the that vsyst 
 them ? whether is y c more precious of these, y' is to say riches 
 golde, or a great hepe of monye gathered together ? Certes, 
 ryches shynethe more and causeth more prayse to be geuen vnto 
 men in dystrubutinge, then in horedynge vp and keping of y e 
 same. For the couitousnes of them that kepe it : causeth them 
 to be hated, and the liberalitie of them that do dystribute it, 
 maketh them renomyd and to haue an honest reporte. If the 
 thing that is conueyed and delyuered from one to another, maye 
 not remayne styll with any manne ? Then is moneye a precyous 
 thynge, when it is conueyed from one to another by the vse of 
 gyfte, and cessyth to be kepte styll with anye man : 
 
 It is spoken in mockage, that muste be vnderstande, monye is 
 
 40 
 
not precious for the causes alledged. And yf all the monye in 
 the worlde were gathered together and in one mans possessyon, 
 other folke that lackyd monye shoulde haue nede ther of. Also 
 one hole voyce fylleth at one tyme the eares of muche people 
 that heryth it, But riches can not passe vnto many or fyll 
 manye, excepte they be deuyded into percelles and porcions. 
 And when it is so done it maketh them pore that do forgoo it. 
 Therefore I may saye O troublesome and nedy ryches, whych 
 many men cannot haue al hole together to them selfe : And 
 commethe to no man without impoueryshyng other. Do the 
 shynynge or glysteryng of pearles and precious stons draw mens 
 eyes that is to sai cause me to desire the. But yf there be any 
 goodnes in theyr shynyng, it is the clerenes and beautie of the 
 stones & not of mens eyes. Wherfore I doo maruayle greatlye 
 at men, that they shoulde so wonder at theym, and desyre to 
 haue them. What thyng is there that (wantynge mouynge of 
 the soule and ioynynge of membres of the bodye to gyther as 
 these stones doo want) semyth goodly to a lyuing & reason- 
 able creature. Whiche precious stones (albeit that they gather 
 vnto the selfe somwhat of the latter beautie of this worlde, by 
 the dylygence of theyr maker, (& theyr dystyncte nature) : haue 
 not deserued by any meanes of the self, that men shuld meruayle 
 at- them, they beynge subiecte and put vnder mans dignitie 
 or gouernauce. Do not y freshe beautie of the feldes delyght 
 you ? 
 
 Bo : What els. For it is a fayre porcion of a goodly worke in 
 this world, & so are we somtyme glad at the syght of the 
 calme sea, and so likewise and by lyke reason, we do meruayle 
 at the heauen or fyrmamet, Sterres, Sonne, and Moone. 
 
 Ph. Do any of the same thinges, appertayne to the ? 
 Darestethou reioyce, and glory in the shynynge of any of theym? 
 Arte thou decked with the flowers of Veer which is the sprynge 
 time, when somer fyrst begynneth ? Do thy plentyousnes, 
 increase by sommer fruytes ? What, art thou rauysshed with 
 vayne ioyes ? what, dost thou enbrace straiige goodes for thyne 
 owne ? Fortune can neuer make the same goodes thyne, y' the 
 nature of thynges hath made none of thyne, or estraunge to the. 
 As the fruites of the earth, ought to be y e foode of beastes, and 
 not thyne. But yf thou wylt gyue nature that she nedeth, 
 and replenish her to y ful, then is it no nede for the to seke 
 
 41 G 
 
for the abundaiice of fortune, for nature is cdntentyd with 
 verye lytle thynges. And yf thou wylte choke nature wyth 
 to muche, eyther y' thou geuyst wilbe vnplesaunt, or hurtfull 
 unto the. Thynkyst thou thy selfe goodly or more to be 
 estemed for thy gay apparell ? Of the whych yf the beawtie 
 thereof be fresh and pleasaut to behold : I woulde rather mar- 
 uayle at the substaunce therof, or the craft of the workman that 
 made it, then at the. Do a longe rowe of seruauntes goyng in 
 order waytyng vpon the, make the happye and good ? whyche 
 yf they be euyll manerd, then be they a perilous charge to they 
 house, and a vehemet greuous bourden to the, beynge their 
 mayster. But yf they be honeste and good : shall theyr goodnes 
 be accountid or imputed to the ? [So that by all the things 
 before sayde, it apperyth that none of them is thy goodnes. 
 
 In whyche thynges yf there be no goodnes to be desyred that 
 maye be ascrybed to the : wherefore art thou sorye for the losse 
 of them ? or why shouldest thou be glade to kepe them ? 
 
 But if they be good of their owne kind what is that to the ? 
 For although thei were taken from the, yet they shoulde be 
 good of themselfe, without the. For they are not therfore 
 precious, for that they cam emongest thy ryches, but bycause 
 they semyd precyous vnto the, therefore thou haddyst leuer 
 accompte them for thy owne ryches. But what thynge desyrest 
 thou with so greate exclamatyon of fortune. 
 
 Truely I think thou sekyst to expell necessytye, wyth 
 aboundaiice of ryches. But surely this happeth to the, far other 
 wise & cotrary. For certes a man hath nede of muche to 
 beare the great charge of good house kepynge. 
 
 And trewe it is that many thinges they haue nede of, that 
 haue muche. And contrarye wyse they haue lytell nede, that 
 mesuryth theyr aboundaunce and desyre with necessitie of 
 nature, and not with theyr insaciate couitousnes, that is to saye, 
 that couetythe no more but that is couenient for their present 
 necessitie. O you men, haue ye no goodnes proper and naturall 
 sette within your selfe, but that you do seke for your goodnes 
 in outewarde things seperate from you ? Surelye the condycion 
 of thynges be so chaungid that ma beyng a godly beast, by 
 meanes of reason, thynketh himselfe nothynge estemed, but he 
 be sene a man by possession of worldelye goodes, that haue no 
 life. And where as other beastes be contented wyth suche 
 
 42 
 
beawtye and goodnes, as nature hath geuen the, you creaturs 
 that be lyke vnto god by your reason or soul : do seke y beauty 
 of your excellent nature, in the lowist or meanist things that is 
 to saye : in worldelye goodes, as though that they were better the 
 your reason, that is moste bewtyfull, and ye do not consyder 
 what iniurye you doo vnto almyghtye God youre maker and 
 creatoure. He woulde that mankynde were more excellent, and 
 shoulde passe all erthlye thynge, but you doo thruste downe 
 your dignytye emongest al low thynges, estemynge them more 
 then your selfe. 
 
 For yf euery good thyng, is more precyous then the thynge 
 that is owner therof, when that you do iudge the vylest thynges 
 (as worldly goodes) to be your goodes, the do you submytte 
 your selues vnder them. Which certes happethe not withoute 
 a cause, for suche is thee naturall condycion of man, that then 
 onely he excelleth all other thynges, when he knoweth hym- 
 selfe, and when he knoweth not hymselfe, then he is taken 
 amonge beastes, as a beaste. 
 
 For the nature of all other beastes (man onelye excepte) is 
 not to knowe them selfe. But yf a man know not hym selfe, it 
 cometh by some vyce that is in hym, & not of nature. O thou 
 mankynde, howe great is this thy errour, that thynkest that any 
 thyng can be made gaye, with other mens apparell or goodes. 
 But it cannot be so. 
 
 For if a man shyneth by the thinges that be put vpon hym, 
 and not of hymself : the be those things praised and not he. For 
 the thynge that is hydde and coueryd with the same shynynge 
 things, remainyth styll in hys fylthynes. And I denye that the 
 thinge is good, that hurtyth hym that hath it. Doo I make a 
 lye or saye otherwyse than I thynke ? Thou wylte say naye. 
 Certes, ryches hath often tymes hurt them that had it foras- 
 muche as euerye wycked man is more gredye and desyrous of 
 other mes goodes wheresouer they be, whether it be gold or 
 precious stons, and thinketh hym most worthy, that hath it. 
 But for all that, thou man that hast teporal riches now, thou 
 feryst the sharp speare and sworde, where as if thou haddest 
 entred and walkyd in the way or path of thys lyfe, as a waye- 
 farynge manne pore and without monye : thou mayste synge This is spoken 
 before the thefe without feare of robbyng and without hurte is to saye, 
 of spere & swerde. O precious felicitie of Ryches temporal!, ^n ri^he'i" 
 
 43 
 
There be .iiii. 
 ages of the 
 worlde, after 
 the comon say- 
 enge of the 
 Poetes. The 
 fyrste was of 
 gold whe men 
 were symple, 
 good, and con- 
 tented with a 
 lytle. The se- 
 cond was syl- 
 uer when men 
 beganne to be 
 sottell and in- 
 uentife, of tyl- 
 lageofhowses, 
 and planted 
 vyneyardes. 
 The thyrde, 
 was of brasse 
 whe me began 
 to be angrie, 
 & to hepe 
 vp to the selfe, 
 and to exclude 
 others. And 
 y e fourth is of 
 yron, when all 
 malyce and 
 coueytousnes 
 raygneth, and 
 neyther fayth, 
 nor charytie. 
 
 Ethna is an 
 hyll in the sea, 
 that euer bren- 
 neth most fer- 
 uently, and 
 neuer cesseth, 
 nor wasteth, 
 or dymynissh- 
 eth. 
 
 -which whan thou hast gotten it, thou canst not be sure thereof 
 & kepe it. 
 
 The first age of ma was much happye that was contented with 
 such as y fields brought forth without labor of man, and was not 
 hurte wyth great excesse of metes & drynkes, they were wont 
 to satysfye theyr long hunger wyth lytell acorns of the oke, that 
 is to say, they sought not for deynetye meates, and knewe howe 
 to myng the wyne with honye, that is to saye : they knewe not 
 pleasaunt drynks, nor how to dye the white fleses of woll of 
 Seria (a countrey so called) with the Venim of tyre, that is to 
 saye : to make purple coloure wyth the bloude of shell fyshes 
 of Tyre, a countrye where there be manye suche fyshes, but 
 were contentyd wyth such colors as the shepe did bere. They 
 could then be contentyd to take holesom slepes vpon the grasse 
 & knew no beddes of downe, and drynke fayre rennyng water 
 for lacke of wyne and ale, and also dwell vnder the shadowe of 
 the hygh pyne tree for lacke of curyous howses. Then had no 
 straunger or merchaunt sailed on the seas with ship nor sene 
 straunge costes to couey their merchaundise to diuers countries 
 and places. The y cruel trompets of warre made no noyse to 
 cal men to battel, nor shedyng of bloud with mortal hate had 
 imbrewid the fearefull armour, that is to say : then was there 
 no warre. What crewell enemye would fyrst moue war before 
 he sawe crewell woundes, or sawe some profyt by battell and 
 warre that is to saye : then was there no cause to fyght. I would 
 our conditions were turnyd againe into those olde maners. But 
 the greate gredye couytousnes to catche and haue ryches, 
 brennyth more feruently then the hyll callyd Ethna. Alas who 
 was he that fyrste doluyd vp the peces of golde that laye hyd 
 in the earth, and the precyous stons that wer contentyd to haue 
 leyen hid and vnknoen. Surely he dygged vp precious peryls, 
 for many daungers mankynde do suffer for the same. 
 
 Phil. 
 
 What shall I speake of dignities and power, whyche you that 
 know not the trewe dignitie & power, do liken or compare it 
 vnto heuen. And if these dignities and power shoulde happen 
 vnto any wycked man they do as much hurte as the brenning 
 
 44 
 
hyll Ethha with all his flames of fyer, brastynge out of the same. Ignorautfolke, 
 
 And no deluge or node that drownyth the countries doth so fheir owne**" 
 
 much annoiauce. Truly I thynke y u haff not forgotten that affection, or 
 
 youre forefathers the Romaines dyd couet to put downe the rule no/accord- 
 
 and aucthoritie of Consuls for theyr pryde, which rule of Consules y n ge to the 
 
 was the begynnyng of their lybertye, whyche foresayd Romaynes There be two 
 
 before that, dyd put awaye from the cytye the name of kynges, maners of dig- 
 
 for the lyke pryde. power, one 
 
 But certes yf power and dygnitye be geuen vnto good folkes consysteth m 
 
 (as it seldome happeth) what goodnes is in dignitye and power, po rai, wherin 
 
 but onelye the goodnes of them that vse them. Soo it commeth ^"^y^e ' e ' 
 
 to passe that honor commeth not to vertu by dignityes but it transytorye. 
 
 cometh to dignitie by vertue of them that vse the dignitie. But sp y r ytuaii' 
 
 what is that same your noble powr that ye so much desyre and whiche stand- 
 
 , , - , _ , , , , , , eth in lern- 
 
 loke for ? Doo you not consyder the erthly bestes ouer whome y nge , & ver- 
 
 you seme to haue premynence ? If thou sawest a mouse ' ue ' y cannot 
 
 J r J be ouercom w L 
 
 emongest other myse chaleging vnto hym selfe a ryght and vyce, aduer- 
 
 power ouer other myse ? How much wouldest thou laughe p y e ~{;™ | los " 
 
 therat ? that is to say, temporal power is such that it extendeth therin is 
 
 fvlvsvtic 
 
 but onlye vnto the bodye. For yf thou loke vpon the body of 
 a man, what thing shalt thou fynde more weke and feble then 
 mankynde, whome either the bytynge of lytell wormes or some 
 
 serpente that crepeth into their secrete partes, oftentymes Honour is not 
 
 kylleth. Certes howe may a ma execute Iustyce vpon another, perlonVrhis 
 
 but vpon hys bodye, or vpon fortune, that is to saye : vpon hys dygnytie, but 
 
 r for his vertue. 
 
 goodes and possessyons. 
 
 Mayst thou at anye tyme rule or commaunde a fre thought ? The mynde or 
 
 Mayst thou remoue the mynde or thought that cleuyth to it \^t, frsmas 
 
 selfe, by good reason, from the state of her owne quyetnes ? iudgemente, 
 
 & ponyshe- 
 
 When a certayne Tyrant thought once to copell with ponysh- men t. 
 
 ment and tormentes, a certayne fre man called a philosopher to 
 
 accuse other men of confederacye of treason had & moued Thewysema 
 
 agaynst the saide Tyraunt : the sayd philosopher did bite of his j. s ^ e e u ^ it ° h uer ' 
 
 owne tounge, and did cast it into the face of the cruell tyraunt. ponysshement. 
 
 Soo that the tormentes that the cruell Tyrante thought should 
 
 haue bene the cause of crueltye to be executyd vpon others : 
 
 The wyse man that is to say the phylosopher turnyd it to a 
 matter of vertue. What thyng maye anye man do to another, 
 that he maye not receyue the lyke of hym. We haue harde 
 saye that Busyrys a Gyaunt, dyd vse to kyll his gestes, and that 
 
 4S 
 
Dygnytes 
 power aucto- 
 rytie ryches 
 nor any goods 
 of fortune or 
 temporall, be 
 goodoftheym- 
 self, but by the 
 that do vse the 
 well, and that 
 is properlye 
 good wherof 
 no euyll en- 
 sueth but re- 
 systeth euyll, 
 as a good man 
 wyll do no 
 euyll,astronge 
 man is not 
 weke & a 
 swyfte man is 
 swyft. 
 
 Ryches power 
 auctorytie & 
 all the goodes 
 of fortune, be 
 wrong named 
 for riches stint- 
 eth not couey- 
 tousnes, power 
 can not rule 
 it selfe, nor dig- 
 nytie maketh 
 a man digne 
 or worthy, nor 
 honoure mak- 
 eth a man 
 honorable. 
 But vertue 
 maketh a man 
 worthy and 
 honorable. 
 
 he was lykewyse kylled of Hercules, beinge then his geste. 
 Regulus, a noble consull (whiche had cast into bandes, or chaines 
 many prysoners that he had take in the batteyle of the Car- 
 thagynens) was at the laste taken hym selfe, and his handes 
 boude in chaynes, by theym that he hadde taken before tyme, 
 of the Carthagyens. Thynkest thou, that he is myghtye, that 
 can do nothynge to another, but such as he may do the like to 
 him ? Moreouer, yf there were any naturall or good thynge 
 in dygnytie and power, they wolde neuer come to wycked, and 
 euyll folke. For thynges contraryous, be not wonte to agre, 
 & associate theymselfe togyther. And nature dysdayneth that 
 contrary thynges, be ioyned or copied togyther. 
 
 Therfore, for bycause it is certayne, that wycked persons (for 
 the moste parte) do beare rule, it appereth truely, that the same 
 dignites and power, be not good of the selfe, by their owne 
 nature, syns they be contented, to contynew with wycked folke. 
 
 Whiche thyng, I may most worthely iudge by the same 
 dygnytie, and power of all the giftes of fortune, that doo chaunge 
 moste abundauntlye, to many wycked and shrewed folke. Of 
 the which gooddes of fortune, one thynge I thynke oughte also 
 to be consyderyd, that no man dowtyth but that he is stronge 
 in whom he seith strength, and that he is swyft in whom 
 swyftnes apperyth, so by lyke reason, musyke makyth musi- 
 cions, physyke phisicions and rethoryke makyth retricyons. For 
 euery natural thing workyth his owne propertye, & is not 
 minged with any effects contrary to the same, but of it selfe 
 puttyth awaye and resysteth thynges contraryous to it selfe. 
 And Ryches cannot satysfye the Ragyng aueryse and couitousnes 
 of men, nor power or dygnitie contentyth or ruleth a myghtye 
 man, whome inordynate ambicion or desire of much honor 
 holdyth boud in stronge chaynes. And dygnyties geuen vnto 
 wycked folke, do not make them worthy, but shewethe and 
 declareth them rather vnworthy. And whye soo ? For you men 
 do reioyse in thynges that appere otherwyse then they be in- 
 dede, ye geue and attribute to them wronge names, that be 
 easily repreuid by their effect and dedes. So that Riches ought 
 not be called ryghtfully riches, nor power called iustly power, 
 nor dygnitie well called dignitye. For nether of the maye cause 
 any man to be contentyd, but euer desyrous of more the like 
 thinges. And fynally I maye lyke wyse say of all the gyftes of 
 
 46 
 
fortune, in the whiche It is manifest, that there is no goodnes of 
 it selfe, or of hys owne nature, to be desyred or lokyd for. For 
 they neuer ioyne themselfe to good folke alwayes or for the 
 most parte, nor make them alwayes good, that they be ioyned 
 or copied vnto. 
 
 Phil. 
 
 We haue wel knowe what hurte kynge Nero dyd in his tyme, Nero brenned 
 he brennid y* noble Citie of Rome, he slewe all the fathers the Rom/tcflerne 
 counsalors and senators, he in his wodenes, slewe his owne therby, howe 
 brother. He imbrewed or bathed hym selfe in his mothers bloude Troy brened. 
 whome he kylled. He beholdyng euery parte of her colde deade ? e t if 1Ie f ^l 
 body or corpus dyd neuer wete hys face wyth teares, that is to tente he hym 
 saye neuer wepte, he was soo hard hartyd, that it dyd not greue raygnejwith- 
 him to beholde as a huge, her goodlye dead corpus. Yet he out an y doubt 
 rulyd wyth his scepter royall, all the people, whome the Sonne kylled 'his 
 dydde shine vppon, or geue lyght vnto, from the fartheste rysynge ™ oth j r h an r d 
 thereof vnto the place where the sonne hydeth his beames vnder belye, to se 
 the waters, that is to say, he ruled from the est vnto the west, he whenrThe 
 rulyd also wyth his scepter all the people that the. vii. cold sters wasconceyued 
 do oppresse with colde, that is to saye : all the Northe. And he 
 lykewyse rulyd all them that the wynde called Nothus beynge 
 vyolent, dryeth with his heate broylynge the hote grauell or 
 sandes, that is to saye : he ruled all the Southe parte. Yet 
 coulde not all his gret hygh power chaunge or cesse the woodnes, The malice or 
 rage and crueltye of the same kyng Nero. Alas it is a heuye goodnes of a 
 & dolorous chauce as often as a wycked swerde or power is shewed when 
 ioyned to crewell madnes, that is to saye wycked crueltye ioyned au'cthorytie. 
 with aucthority. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 Then I saye O Phylosophy, thou knowest that the desyre of 
 mortall and transitorye thynges, neuer had rule ouer me, or dyd 
 ouercome me. 
 
 But I haue desyred to bere rule in causes of the common welth, 
 that vertue shoulde not wax olde or be forgotte in me, for lacke 
 of exercyses. 
 
 Phil. For sothe that is a thynge that may allure and drawe 
 mens myndes, that be excellent by nature (but not yet brought 
 to the full perfection of vertue) that is to saye : desyre of renowme 
 
 47 
 
The Sirians 
 do take it for 
 a prayse, to 
 eat theyr 
 paretes, when 
 they be deed, 
 rather then 
 wormes 
 shoulde. The 
 Jewes to 
 marie, the 
 
 or glorye, and the fame of good admynistration in the commen 
 wealth, and to doo good and profytable thynges for the same, 
 whych fame and renoume, how lytell and voyde of estimatyon it 
 is, cosyder as foloweth. Thou hast learnyd by the demonstra- 
 tions of astronomy, that all the circuite or compasse of the earthe 
 is by reason, as a pricke or lytle tytle in respect to the compasse 
 of heue that is to say : of the fyrmament. Or yf all the earth 
 wer compared to the gretnes of the celestiall globe or compasse, 
 it should be iudged as nothynge in respecte thereof. Of the 
 whyche earthe or worlde being so lytell a thynge, scarse the 
 fourth parte thereof is inhabyted, of lyuyng creatures that we do 
 know, as thou haste learned of Ptolome that prouyth the same. 
 And if thou haddyst abatyd in thy mynde from thys forthe part, 
 howe muche the seas and marshe groundes do contayne, and 
 lykewyse y e quantitie of the dry wast grounds, the woodes, 
 desertes and sands : then shuld there remayne scarsly a very 
 litle place for men to inhabyte in. Therefore you me being 
 inuironed or compassed within the lest part of the sayd prycke 
 or tytle, of the erth, do you thinke that your fame or renowne be 
 spred abrode ? And howe great and notable is your glorye and 
 fame, that is dryuen into so narow a place ? And adde thereto 
 that manye nacyons beyng of dyuers languages, of dyuers maners 
 and of sondry reason of lyuynge doo inhabyte and dwell in thys 
 lytell compasse of the erth inhabitable, vnto whome nether the 
 fame of all men, nor the fame of cityes cacome for the dyfficultye 
 of wayes, for the dyuersitie of speache, for the lacke of the vsage 
 and entercourse of marchaudise. For in the time of Marcus 
 Tullius (as he hymselfe in a certayne Booke dothe wryte) the 
 fame and renoune of the comen welth of Rome had not passed 
 or come than vnto the hyll named Cacasus, and yet was Rome 
 an olde Cytye and fearyd of the parthiens & of other inhaby- 
 tynge there aboute. Seyst thou not nowe in howe narrowe and 
 lytell romyth is the glory and fame brought that thou goyst 
 aboute and laboryst to delate and sprede abrode ? Canne the 
 fame and glorye, of one Romayne, extende and spred thyther 
 that the fame and glorye of the hole cytye of Rome, coulde not 
 come ? And what sayest thou to thys, that the maners and lawes 
 of dyuers people do not accorde emonge them selfe, so that the 
 same thynge that some do prayse, other do disprayse and iudg 
 worthy of ponyshmet, whereby it commeth to passe that yf any 
 
 48 
 
man delyteth to haue glory and renoune, It behoueth hym that next of their 
 it be not shewed in any wyse emongest dyuers people. Tryuaiksfto 
 
 Let euerye manne therefore be contented to haue an honeste kyll their 
 prayse and reporte emongest hys neyghboures. And lette the heis ax. yeares 
 sayde immortall fame and glorye shute vp close within the oldeandbren 
 bondes of people of one nation where thou dwellest. 
 
 But how many men (that in their time were noble and famous) 
 be nowe clene forgotten and out of memory, for lacke of wryters, 
 or by neglygente wryters. And albeit that such wrytinges of 
 mes fame and glorye do sumwhat profytte, yet in processe of 
 tyme beyng olde and longe past, the sayd wrytynges and also the 
 actors and wryters, do consume. But yet you men do thynke to 
 get vnto your selfe an immortall and perdurable name when you 
 do thynke vpon the fame to come, or that youre fame shall 
 endure alwayes emongest men, whose tyme of contynuaunce, yf 
 thou compare it with the time infinite, that is eterne, or euer- 
 lastynge, what haste thou to reioyse in the continuaunces of thy 
 fame ? For if one momet of an hour were compared vnto tenne 
 thowsande yeares, bothe the same tymes haue an ende, and the 
 moment hath some portion of tyme, thoughe it be verye lytel. 
 But yet the sayde noumber of yeares, and as manye more, howe 
 manye soeuer they be added together thereto, maye not be 
 compared to the tyme euerlastynge that hath noo ende. For 
 comparyson maye be made of thinges that haue an ende 
 emongest them selfe. But noo comparyson coulde euer be made 
 of thynges that haue no ende, to thynges, that haue an ende. 
 And soo it happeth, though that fame be neuer so longe of tyme 
 as thou canst thynke, yf thou compare it with the tyme euer- 
 lastyng, it semeth not onely verye lytell, but also none at all. 
 But you thincke that you know nothyng well done, or that you 
 can do nothyng wel, but yf it be to please the peoples eares, or 
 for the vayne prayse of the worlde. And you requyre and seke 
 for the prayse of other mens smale sayinges, and leue clerely the 
 exqellencye of your owne consciens and vertue. Consyder 
 howe gloriously one man moketh another in such lightnes of 
 Arrogancye. For when a certayne tyraunt began to speake 
 angerly vnto another man, whych falsely vsurpyd and toke vpon 
 hym the name of a Phylosopher, not for vertues sake, but for a 
 vayne glorye. And when the Tyraunte sayde that he woulde 
 knowe whether he were a philosopher, for he woulde then suffer 
 
 49 H 
 
pacientlye all wronges done vnto hym. The man that named 
 hymselfe a phylosopher, suffered and tooke pacyence a lytell 
 whyle, and after he had receyued rebukes of the tyraunte, he at 
 the last stryuyng and impacyent, sayde vnto the tyraunt : 
 knowst thou not that I am a phylosopher ? Then the tyraunte 
 answered and sayde roughely : I had taken the for a philosopher, 
 if thou hadest holden thy peace. But what is thys to these 
 notable vertuous me that seke for glorye by vertue, for of such 
 do I speke nowe, what is fame (I saye) to them after the body is 
 once dede ? For yf me do dye all hole as well the soule as the 
 bodye (whych thyng oure reason denyeth to beleue) then is there 
 no glorye at al, when there is no man to whome glorye is sayde 
 to belonge. And if the soule (hauynge knowledge of it selfe 
 and delyuered from the person of the earthely body and beyng 
 also fre) goeth to heue. Do it not dyspyse all erthly thinges, 
 and beynge in heuen, dothe shee not reioyse that she is seperate 
 from all worldelye busynes, that is to saye : caryth nether for 
 glory, renoune, riches, power, dygnytie nor aucthorytie of thys 
 worlde. 
 
 Philosophi. 
 
 Who so euer with hasty thought, desyreth only glory, and 
 
 renoune, and beleueth that it is y cheyfest thynge, that can be 
 
 desyred. Let hym beholde the partes of heauen or fyrmament, 
 
 both large and open, or apparat, and lykewyse the small and 
 
 narrowe compasse of the earth, and compare them together, and 
 
 then he shalbe asshamed, of his glorye, and fame, that it can not 
 
 fyll the lytle space of the earth. Therfore, oh to what intent do 
 
 proude men, exalt theyr neckes in vayne, with the yoke of 
 
 mortall fame and glory, although it be spred, and passeth by 
 
 people, and nacyons farre of, and thoughe it be spoken of by 
 
 mens tounges. 
 
 Fabricius was And thoughe thy noble house do shyne wyth excellent tytles, 
 
 a noble con- that is to saye, thoughe thou be a noble man, commen of noble 
 
 and'sofayth-' byrthe, and famous with hyghe lawde and prayse. Yet death 
 
 fuU, that beyng se ttyth noughte by such hygh glorye renounce and fame, and 
 
 agaynstKynge death wrappyth vp the pore man, the ryche and noble man 
 
 Pyrrus, tncrrrrier 
 
 neyther golde, together. 
 
 nor syluer, And death makyth the lowest thynges equal with the hyest 
 
 him, to°be UP and greatest thynges. Where be nowe the bones of faythfull 
 
 50 
 
 V 
 
Fabricius ? what is become of Brutus, and of wyse Cato ? A false to Rome, 
 lytell and smale fame of them yet remaynyng declareth their Brutus, was a 
 
 J J J <=> famous con- 
 
 vayne name in a fewe letters. And although we haue knowen sullof Rome, 
 the goodlye wordes wrytten of theyr fame : do wee know them many thinges 
 that be consumed and dede out of thys worlde, longe before oure for ljbertie 
 dayes ? ye do lye therfore as men vnknoen when you be dede, f" r y ™s2ame 
 and your fame doth not make you to be knowen. If that you done f ? 
 do thynke that your lyfe endureth the longer by fame of a And he fought 
 worldely name that is to saye : by the glorye of mortall fame, ™ a " e n s y f o r at " 6 
 when that the laste day shal take from you the same mortall Romaynes. 
 fame, then commeth vnto you the seconde deathe. wyse and* & 
 
 vertuous man. 
 
 PHYLOSOPHY. J here be , 
 
 here noted 
 
 But that thou shalte not thynke y I wyll hold cruell battaile „ne of the 65 ' 
 
 against fortune. Thou shalte vnderstande that the same false body, another 
 
 and sotyll fortune sometyme deseruyth some goodnes at mens f am e, which 
 
 handes, at such tyme as she do openly shewe her selfe and dyeth with the 
 
 ' x J body, therfore 
 
 vncouer her face, by shewyng her falsehed or aduersitie, and it is not to be 
 declareth her vnstable maners. Perchaunce thou knoest not yet verfueneuer 
 what I doo speake. For it is a meruaylous thynge that I entend dyeth. 
 to saye, ye and I can scarse expresse the sentece with my Amansfrend 
 wordes. For I do thynke that euyl fortune do more profytte best, in aduer- 
 men then good fortune. For when she semethe good and gentyll inpros^ritie' 
 with prosperitie and welth the she lyeth falsely. 
 
 But euyll fortune is alwayes trewe, when she sheweth her selfe 
 mutable by her vnstedfastnes. Good fortune deceyueth, and Good fortune 
 euill fortune teachyth. Good fortune byndethe wyth the beawtye j^tte boThT 
 of her goodes the hartes or thoughtes of them that hath them. God, and 
 Euyll fortune vnbyndeth mens hartes and thoughtes by knowlege rea son of pros- 
 of her frayle felycitie. And thou seist good fortune proude & ery 1 ti 5' 
 prodigall and not knoinge herselfe, Euyll fortune is sober meke maketh a man 
 and wise, by exercise of her aduersitie. Furthermore good G d n ° a nd b ° th 
 fortune wyth her flatterynge drawethe men that be wauerynge, hymselfe, by 
 from felycitie or perfytte good whych is god. Euyll fortune for andToto'come 
 the most parte bryngethe men agayne to perfyt felycitie, draweth *° vertue and 
 them as yt were with a hoke. Doeste thou esteme this for a smale worlde. 
 thynge ? that this sharp and euyll fortune, hath shewed vnto y 
 very myndes and thoughts of thy faithfull frendes ? The sayde 
 euyll fortune hath dyscouered vnto the both the open playne 
 and doutefull countenaunce of thy felowes. Good fortune going 
 
 51 
 
The seedes be 
 the Elemetes, 
 of whome all 
 naturall 
 thynges do 
 come, as all 
 herbes do 
 come of sedes, 
 and al bodyes 
 mixed, do 
 come of the 
 Elementes. 
 
 from the, toke awaye her owne frends, and left the thyne owne 
 frendes, and none of hers. When thou were in prosperitye and 
 ryche as thou thoughteste thy selfe to be, what wouldyste thou 
 haue geuen to haue knowen this thynge all hole together, that 
 is to saye : thy frend from thy foe ? Cesse thou nowe therefore 
 to complayne for the losse of thy worldely ryches, synce thou 
 hast found thy trewe frendes whych is the mooste precyous 
 kynde of all ryches. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 The loue of God that gouernythe both the land and the sea, 
 and likewyse commaundethe the heuen, and kepyth the world 
 in due order and good accorde, that is to saye : causythe y due 
 seasons of the yere to come successyuely accordyng to their 
 nature. And that the sedes, that is to saye : the Elementes 
 beyng contrary one to a nother do holde contynuall peace and 
 vnytye, one with another, so that one doth not corrupte and 
 hurt another. And that y sonne in hys bryghte golden chariote, 
 bryngeth forth the clere freshe daye. And that the mone 
 gouerne the nyght that the sterre Hesperus, called the euenyng 
 sterre, hath brought in. And that the ragynge sea do kepe in 
 his floudes, to a certayne ende that they extende not theyr 
 vttermost course and ouerflowe the earth. If thys dyuine or 
 godly loue shuld slacke the brydell, that is to saye : shuld take 
 no cure to gouerne, whatsoeuer thynge now louyth together, and 
 agreith, would be at contynual varyance and dyscorde, and 
 would striue to dystroye and lose the engyn of y world that 
 kepyth them in mutuall amite, in their goodlye ordynate 
 mouinges. 
 
 This loue of god conserueth vertuous folke, and suche as be 
 ioyned together in the bond of frendship. And this loue knytteth 
 together the sacramet of wedlocke, with chast loue betwene man 
 and wyfe. Thys loue also settith his lawes whych is trewe 
 frendeshipe to faythful frendes and felowes. O howe happye 
 were mankynd yf this loue of God that rulyth heuen, myght 
 rule and gouerne theyr myndes, that is to say : that they myght 
 so agre together in such perfyte frendeshyp, that one myght loue 
 another, and agre as the elemets do agre. 
 
 Here endeth the second boke. 
 
 52 
 
THE THIRDE BOKE. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 )OWE when Phylosophy had ended her songe, and 
 that the swetenes of her metyr had confyrmyd me 
 beynge desyrous to heare wyth open eares, and 
 meruaylynge at her wordes I (a lytle after) sayde. 
 O phylosophye, whych art the very comforte of werye myndes, 
 howe much haste thou cheryshed me with the grauitie of thy 
 sentences, and with the pleasauntenes of thysyngynge. In so much 
 that I do thinke that fro henceforth, I am able to wythstand the 
 assaultes of fortune. Soo that the medycines that thou a lytell 
 before saydest were very sharpe, I do not onelye nothyng feare, 
 but I beyng very desyrous to here them, do vehemently or 
 ernestlye often requyre them. 
 
 Phil: I well perceyued the same, when thou being styll 
 makynge no noyse and herkenyng, receyuydest my wordes. And 
 that Ihad expected or reuocate the habite of thy mynde, that 
 thou hast now, (or that is more true) that I had perfyted the 
 habite or maner of thy mynde. And certes the residue of the 
 thinges that do remayne be suche, that when they be tasted, 
 truely they do byte or be vnplesaunte. But when they be re- 
 ceyued inwardly : they taste swetely. But for by cause thou 
 sayest thou art so desyrous to here them, Oh howe muche 
 wouldyste thou brene with desyre, yf thou knewest whether I 
 wold lede the. 
 
 BOE: I saye, whyther wouldyste thou leade me. Phil: To 
 the trewe felycitie, that thy mynde dreameth of. But thy syghte 
 beyng occupyed with fantasies and immagynations, that is to 
 saye : with temporall or worldely thynges : thou mayst not 
 beholde and loke vpon the same true and perfyt felycitie. 
 
 53 
 
Boe: Then come of and shewe me I beseche the, without anye 
 taryinge, whyche is the same trewe felicitie. 
 
 Phil: I wyll doo it gladelye at thy request, but fyrst I wil go 
 
 about to mark and appoynte out by my wordes, that false 
 
 felycytie, that is better knowen to the, that after thou haste sene 
 
 her, when thou hast turnyd thy eyes on the contrarye parte, that 
 
 is to saye : from false felicitie vnto trewe felicitie, thou mayst the 
 
 better knowe the similytude and beawtie of the same trew 
 
 felicitie. 
 
 Fyrste vyce He that wyll sowe a goodly felde wyth corne, fyrst he must 
 
 auoyded, from r yd the same felde of shrubes and thorns and cutte awaye the 
 
 a ma before, bushes and feme with his hoke or syth, y the newe corne may 
 
 that vertue , . , , , 
 
 can entre. grow and encrease with ful eres. 
 
 The laboure of the bees, that is to sai : the honye, is swete to 
 the mouth, that hath tastyd some euyl tast or bytternes before. 
 And after that the south wynde called Nothus, cesseth to geue 
 his sheury blastes, then do the sters shyne more plesaunt and 
 bryght. And after that y day sterre called Lucifer hath chased 
 awaye the darkenes of the nyght. The the bryght daye ledyth 
 fourthe the shinyng horser of the sonne, that is to sai ; after the 
 darke nyght the clere day shineth more plesaunt. So lykewyse 
 thou fyrst beholdyng false goods, that is to saye : false felycytie 
 of worldely things begynne thou to wythdrawe thy neck from 
 the yoke of the sayd false felicitie or worldely thynges. And 
 after that, trewe goodes, that is to saye : vertue, or trewe felicite 
 wyll enter the better into thy mynde. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 Then Phylosophy lokynge donnewarde a litle, and remem- 
 brynge her selfe as one that had her wits to seke, or put vp into 
 the narow seate of her mynd, beganne to speake after thys 
 maner. 
 
 P: All y cure of mortal folk howe manye maners of wayes 
 soeuer they do labour and trauell, yet they all do laboure 
 (althoughe it be by dyuers and sondry meanes) to come vnto one 
 The dyffyni- ende of felycitie, or blessednes. Truely that thynge is good 
 fyte felytitie. (whyche when a man hath obteyned it) that nothynge can be 
 desyred ferther besydes it, which thinge certes is the soueraygne 
 good of all thynges, and contayneth in it selfe all good thynges. 
 
 54 
 
To the whych good thynge yf any thyng shoulde be awaye or 
 wantynge : it cannot be sufferaigne and perfyt good, for by cause 
 som thing is left behynd or forgotte that maye be desyred. Ther- 
 fore it appereth y felicitie is a perfyt state by gatheryng together 
 of all good thynges. The same perfytte state, or felicitie (as I 
 haue sayde) al me lyuynge do labor to optayne and gette dyuers 
 wayes. For the desyre of felycitye or blessednes, is naturally 
 plantyd in mens myndes and hartes, but that wandryng error 
 ledyth them out of the way to false gods, that is to say : worldlye 
 thynges, of the whyche men, some (certes thynkyng that the 
 perfytte felycitie and goodnes is to haue nede of nothynge) doo They that do 
 laboure to habounde in ryches. ' ^ MydtLT 
 
 Other men (iudging good that thyng, that is most worthy do take these - 
 
 v, thynges for 
 
 honour) do stryue to be honorable emongest their citizens and it, as ryches, 
 neyghbours after they haue gotten honors. There be other that honoui ' e > 
 
 J ° jo power, glorye, 
 
 do dertermyne that soueraygne felycitye is in high power, and and pleasure, 
 they them self will raygne or rule, or do laboure to be nere vnto ^e modes of 
 suche as doo rule or raygne. But other to whome fame semeth fortune. 
 perfytte felycitie and goodnes, do make haste to optayne a 
 gloryous name by feates of warre or armes, or by the meanes of 
 peace makyng. 
 
 But many do measure the fruyte of perfytte felicitie, wythe 
 myrth and gladnes, that is to saye : doo thynke that perfytte 
 felicitie standythe in ioye and gladnes. They do thynke it the 
 most perfytte felicitie, to haue aboudauce of corporal pleasure. 
 Also ther be some men that do chaunge or ioine the endes and The lacke of 
 causes of thynges one wyth another, as they that do desyre to fhyn|e°causeth 
 haue ryches, for to haue power and pleasure or they desyre power m§ to desyre 
 bycause they wold haue monye or fame and renoune. Soo in 
 these thinges and suche lyke, the intente and purpose of all 
 mens actes, and desyres be occupied : as noblenes and fauoure of 
 the common people whych semeth to geue vnto all men a cer- 
 tayne glorye and prayse. And lykewyse wife and chyldren, that Frendshyp is 
 men desyre for the cause of pleasure and myrth. But frendes naneatto- 
 which is the most holy thyng, may not be acountyd emonges tunes goodes. 
 the goods of fortune, (whych consysteth in worldly and trasytory 
 thynges) but in vertu. But al the other thynges that cometh of Riches, 
 fortune, be taken eyther for the loue of offyce or power, or of honour, 
 pleasure, and delyghte. And truely it is mete to referre al glorye, pka- 
 goodes temporall, and transytorye, vnto y other goodes of for- other transy- 
 
 55 
 
torye goods, 
 or pleasures 
 temporall be 
 the goodes of 
 fortune. 
 
 Felicitie is 
 adiudged of 
 dyuers men, 
 in diuers 
 goodes of 
 fortune ac- 
 cordynge to 
 theyr seuerall 
 dysposycions. 
 
 They seke 
 felycytie, and 
 blyssednes, y* 
 seke suffy- 
 saunce, euyn 
 so, they y' 
 
 tune, abouenamed. For strength and gretnes of bodye semeth 
 to geue powre : fayrenes and swyftnes, to geue glory and prayse : 
 and helthe of bodye, to geue pleasure, and delyght. In all whych 
 thynges it apperyth that blessednes and felicytye is desyred. For 
 that thynge that anye man requyreth or desyreth aboue all other 
 thynges, the same he iudgeth to be soueraygne good or felicitie. 
 But I haue dyffyned that soueraygne good is perfyt felycitie. 
 For euerye man demeth that state to be blessed, that he desireth 
 aboue other thynges. Therefore thou hast before thine eyes 
 shewed and declared the proposed fortune and maner of mannes 
 felicitie, that is ryches, power, honour, glorye and plesures, 
 which thynges truelye the Epicurus onelye considering and be- 
 holding, estemid cosequentlye with hymselfe, that plesure was 
 soueraygne good or perfyt felycitie, forsomuch as all the other 
 thinges semyd to reioyse the harte and mynde, but none so much 
 as plesure, after hys Judgment. But now I returne againe to 
 mens studyes and ententes, whose mynde and harte sekethe 
 soueraygne good or perfite felycitie, although it be with an im- 
 perfette and dull memorye drownyd in desyre of worldely goodes, 
 wandryng as a dronken man that knoeth not whych way to go 
 home to hys house. Seme they to erre and goo oute of the waye 
 that labouryth to haue ynoughe and to haue nede of nothynge ? 
 noo truelye. Certes there is nothynge that more performeth and 
 geueth blessednes then a plenteous estate of al goods hauyng 
 ynough hymselfe of his owne and nede of none other mans, Do 
 they erre from felycitie, that do thynke that thynge moste 
 worthy reuerence and honor y is best ? No truely : For that 
 thing is not vyle and to be dyspysed that the entente of all men 
 lyuyng (almoste) laboureth to optayne. Is not power, to be 
 nombred in ryches ? What ells ? Is the thynge to be estemyd 
 weke and feble without strength, that semethe to be more worthye 
 and stronger then all other thyngs ? no truely. Is glory fame 
 and renoune nothyng estemyd ? no not so. For it cannot be 
 denyed but that all thyng, that is most excellent, semythe to be 
 moste gloryous, and clere. For it is manyfest that blessednes is 
 not carefull and sadde, nor subiect to doloures, and greifes, but 
 full of pleasures and gladnes, what should a man say more when 
 in the leste thynges that can be, some thynge is desyred that 
 delytethe a man to haue, and to enioye as hys owne. And these 
 be the thynges that menne woulde wisshe to haue, and for thys 
 
 56 
 
cause they doo seke for and desyre ryches dignities, rule, glory seke for riches 
 and pleasures, that by them they do thynke that they shal haue gfj^feme, 6 ' 
 suffisans, reuerece, power, renoune, fame, myrth, and gladnes. renome, and 
 Therefore that thinge muste nedes be good, that men do aske suffisiauce : 
 and seke for soo manye dyuers and sundrye wayes. In the they do seke 
 which sekyng it is lyghtly shewed, and euydentlye it apperyth, cite and 
 how great the power and strengthe of nature is, that thoughe the FoTfehrite 
 sentences and iudgementes of men be dyuerse one contrary to is suffysaunce, 
 another : yet forall that in louynge and desyryng the ende of not hyng, for 
 good and blessednes, they do agre and be of one mynde and yfitdydwant 
 
 ° ' ' t> J anythinge, it 
 
 iudgemente. wanteth suf- 
 
 fysauce and 
 
 Philosophy. consequetiy it 
 
 could not be 
 
 It pleaseth me to shew, with a sownynge songe, vpon softe feiycytie. 
 strynges, by what raynes or meanes, that is to say : by what 
 naturall inclinacions, myghtie nature ruleth. And by what lawes 
 nature beynge prouydente and circumspecte conserueth and 
 kepythe the hole greate worlde. And by what lawes nature 
 kepeth in and fastenyth all thynges with a fast and sure knot, 
 that cannot be loosed. Althoughe the lions of Libia, hauing 
 goodly chaines aboute their neckes doo take mete at their 
 maysters handes. And althoughe they feare their cruell mayster 
 and be wont to suffer beating, yet if the bloud of beastes that 
 the same lyons haue deuoured do moist or tast in theyr mouthes, 
 that is to saye : if they once taste bloude : then their corages that 
 before was forgotten for lacke of vse, cometh agayne to his olde 
 nature and kynde. And with gret roryng they breke their chaynes 
 from theyr neckes, and fyrste of all their mayster that kept them 
 as tame, felyth theyr rauenyng rage beyng rente into peces with 
 their blody teethe, that is to saye : they fyrste kylle their mayster, 
 that kept the. Likewise the syngyng byrde that syngeth vpon the 
 hygh bowghes in the woode, if she be taken and put into a strayte 
 cage, although the dilygent cure of men delytynge in her, geueth 
 her swete drinkes and dyuers meates wyth plesaunt labour : yet 
 yf she chause to escape out of the strayt cage and seith the 
 plesant shadowes of the woodes, beyng sorye of her strayt kepyng, 
 ouerthrowith her metes and treadeth the vnder her fete and flyethe 
 vnto the woodes, and there syngeth and warbleth with swete 
 notes and songes. Also the sprigge or bough of a tree by greate 
 vyolence made croked boweth downe the toppe, but whe the hand 
 
 57 i 
 
Ryches can- 
 not gyue 
 suffysaunce, 
 but bryngeth 
 in nede of 
 some thynge, 
 and so ther is 
 no perfyte 
 felycite in 
 ryches. 
 
 of him that boweth it, letteth it go at lybertye, it holdethe the 
 toppe vpryght towarde heuen, that is to sai : it returnyth to his 
 olde naturall course. The sonne lykewyse that at euen before 
 night fallyth (as the poetes faine) into the westerne waters : by a 
 secrete path retourneth his charyot, to his accustomed rysing. 
 So that all thynges naturall do returne and come agayne, to their 
 naturall courses. And all naturall thynges reioyseth at theyr 
 returne to their owne nature. And nothynge hath any other 
 prescribed order but that onelye that hath ioyned the begynnyng 
 to the ende. And hath so establyshed the worlde of it selfe : that 
 it shall not chaunge from hys naturall course. 
 
 Certes, O you erthly men, you do know vnperfetly or as it were 
 in a dreme, your owne begynnyng and the verye ende of true 
 felicitie, although you do se it by a thynne or slender imagina- 
 tion or fantasye. And therfore your naturall intent and purpose 
 ledeth you to the true good or blessednes, and much error with- 
 draweth you from the same. Consyder nowe than Boecius 
 whether that men may com to that perfyt ende and blessednes 
 by such thyngs as me thought they shuld come by nature, that 
 is to say, yf that ryches or honors and suche temporall thynges 
 can brynge a man anye suche thinge that hath suffisaunce and 
 wantyth nothynge at all. For then I wold thynke that some men 
 were blessed and happye by opteynyng of these foresaid thinges, 
 that is to saye : that hath the sayde goodes of fortune all redye. 
 But and yf those thynges, that is to saye : worldely goodes 
 cannot do the things that they do promysse, and do wante muche 
 goodes, Is not then the kynde of false felicitie apprehended and 
 knoen openly by them ? Therefore I aske the Boecius fyrste of 
 all (whyche not longe agoo diddest habound in riches) whether 
 that care dyd not trouble thy mynde for euery wronge done 
 emongest all those aboundaunt ryches. 
 
 Boe : Certes I doo saye that I cannot remember that I was 
 euer of so quiet mynde, but that somethynge dydde alwayes 
 greue me. 
 
 Phil : Dyddyst not thon want some thynge that thou woldest 
 haue had, or thou haddest sothing that thou wouldest not haue 
 hadde ? 
 
 BOE : I saye it is euen soo. 
 
 Phil : Then thou desyreddeste to haue the thynge that thou 
 dyddest lack, and to lacke that thou haddest. 
 
 58 
 
Boe : I saye I do confesse no lesse. 
 
 Phil : Then there nedeth some thynge that euery man de- 
 syrethe, that is to saye : Then euery man hath nede. Boe : I 
 graunt that euery man laketh. Phil : Then he that hath nede 
 of anye thinge, is not thoroughly suffised and contented. Boe : 
 I saye the same. P: So then thou lackeddest suffisauce, when 
 thou haddyst aboundaunce of ryches. BOE : I saye what ells. 
 Phil : Then ryches cannot make a man haue Inough or to be 
 contented, whyche that hee hathe, whyche was the thing that they 
 semed to promise. And certes this thing I do thynke cheifelye 
 to be considered, that mony by his owne nature and kynde hath 
 nothynge that it cannot be taken fromme theym that haue it, 
 agaynste theyr wyll, that is to saye : that it hath nothyng in it, 
 but may be taken away whether they wyll or not that haue it. 
 BOE : I do knowledge, that it is so. Phil. Why shouldest thou 
 not confesse it, when the stronger folke takethe it awaye dayly, 
 from the weaker against theyr wyll ? For els whence commethe 
 all these complayntes in courtes, butt hat mony is taken awaye, 
 from folke agaynst theyr wyll, eyther by force or by crafte and 
 deceyte. Boe : I saye it is soo. 
 
 Phil : Than euerye man shal haue nede of some outwarde 
 helpe, whereby he maye kepe hys monye. 
 
 Boe : Who wyl deny that. 
 
 P. Certes he shuld haue no nede therof, but for that he hath 
 mony, that he maye lese. 
 
 Boe : I say there is no doute thereof. 
 
 Phil: Therefore the matter of monye is otherwyse, the men 
 do thinke it is. For y ryches that were thought to make men to 
 haue suffisaunce and to be contented, makethe theym rather to 
 haue nede of other mennes helpe. What waye is there whereby 
 indigence and nede maye be put away and satysfied with riches ? 
 Canne not ryche men be hungerye ? Canne not ryche men be 
 thrystye ? Doo the members and lymes of ryche men, fele no 
 wyntercolde ? But thou wylte saye that ryche men haue Inoughe, 
 to slacke theyr huger to quench ther thirst and to kepe them 
 from cold. Certes by this waye nede and pouertie maye be 
 eased by ryches. But it cannot be clene taken awaye. For yf 
 thys indigence and nede, alwayes gapyng and desyrynge riches, 
 might be satisfied with riches, then it behoueth that there remayne 
 and be such a nede and indigence, that may be fulfilled and 
 
 59 
 
Nature is 
 suffysed with 
 a lytle, but 
 coueitousnes 
 can neuer be 
 satisfyed. 
 
 satysfyed. But I holde my peace and wyll not tell that a lytell 
 thynge suffyseth nature, but nothynge is Inoughe or suffyseth 
 couetuousnes. Wherefore if ryches cannot put away indigence 
 and nede, but doo cause and make indigence and nede ? how may 
 it be, that ye can beleue that ryches geueth and bryngeth to any 
 man ynough or suffysaunce. 
 
 Thoughe a couetuous ryche man, had a ryuer euer flowynge 
 golde contynually, and dyd neuer cese, yet coulde it neuer 
 staunche or satysfye his gredy couetuousnes. And although he 
 had as many precyous stones of the red sea, as his necke coulde 
 beare, And althoughe he doth eare hys fruytefull felde with an 
 hundrede oxen, yet thys gredy and insaciable cure of couetuousnes, 
 wyll neuer leue hym whyles he is a lyue. And his frayle ryches 
 wyll not go with hym when he is dede. 
 
 Honoure is a 
 reuerence 
 gyuen to 
 another for a 
 testymonye of 
 his vertue 
 Aristo .4. Eti- 
 corum. 
 
 Reuerece is a 
 decent, and 
 couenyente 
 gratytude or 
 thankes 
 Tullius. 
 
 Decoratus was 
 a ma put in 
 offyce, by 
 kynge Theo- 
 doryke, to 
 rule the 
 comenaltie 
 whiche was an 
 euyll man, a 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 But, do dignities make him honorable and reuerend, that hath 
 them ? Is there such vertue in dignyties, that they maye put 
 vertues in the mindes of them that haue dignities and expell 
 vyce ? Truelye they be not wonte to expell vyce and wyckednes, 
 but rather to augment the same. Wherefore I haue dysdayne 
 that dignyties should so often happen vnto wycked and vitious 
 men. For whyche thinge Catulus that was a vertuous wise ma 
 in Rome (Seinge Nonius a vicyous man, syttinge in the place of 
 dignitie and iudgmente) called hym a swellynge full of corruption 
 (that is to saye) a man hauynge an hepe of vyces, in hys breste. 
 
 As the swellynge in the necke called Struma, is ful corruption 
 impostumed so was he full of vyce and wyckednes. Seyst thou 
 not howe grete shame and vylanye dignities bryngeth to wicked 
 folke ? Truelye the vnworthines or malyce of them shuld lesse 
 appere, yf they were not honored. O Boecius myghtist thou be 
 brought to so greate perylles, that thou wouldeste thynke or be 
 contented to bere offyce or be felowe in offyce with the man 
 named Decorate, when thou sawest in hym the hart and mynde 
 of a wycked knaue and accuser of men ? Certes I cannot iudge 
 them, worthy reuerece for their honors, who I deme vnworthy to 
 haue such honors. But yf thou sawest a man ful of wysdome, 
 myghtest thou thynke him, vnworthy of reuerence, or of the 
 wysdom that he hath ? 
 
 60 
 
BOE : No truely. promotor or 
 
 Phylo : Certes dygnyties be properly incident to vertue. And and format, 
 
 vertue gyueth dygnyties anone to them, to whom dignities shal Boecius wold 
 ..,.,,, , , , notbeasso- 
 
 be loyned. And for bycause that honours, that the people date with 
 
 do gyue to men, can not make men worthye suche honours : ^? m- 
 
 it appereth that honours haue no proper beautie, or similitude of foloweth 
 
 dignytie of it selfe. In whiche thynge the same thynge aboue ^E^orum. 
 
 sayde, is to be consydered. For yf a man be so moche the lesse eu y' people 
 
 11 i-i , r ■. ,„, , , .be worthy no 
 
 estemed, bycause he is dyspysed of many ? When that dygnytie honoure. 
 can not make euyll men reuerende : then dygnitie maketh y Vertliemaketh 
 euil folke, be rather dyspraysed, then praysed, which disprayse a gentylman, 
 dignytie sheweth to many. And truely not without a cause, andnotpower, 
 For the wycked do reuenge them selfe vpon dygnytie, when they or ryches. 
 defowle it, with theyr vilanye and wyckednes. And that thou 
 mayst knowe that the same trewe reuerence can not happen to 
 any man by these shadowy or transytorie dygnyties, vnderstande 
 thus. If a man had vsed to haue moch dygnytie in the C5sul ship, 
 and by chaiice came emongest straunge nacions, shulde his 
 honoure of the consull shyp, make him to be honoured amongest 
 the straungers ? But and yf this honoure, were a naturall geste 
 to dygnyties, they myght neuer cease any where, amongest people 
 fro doynge theyr offyce and dutie, as the fyre in euery countrye 
 neuer ceaseth to heate and warme. But for bycause, to be reue- 
 renced and honourable cometh not to anye of the proper nature 
 and strength in it selfe, but mans false and vayne opinion causeth 
 it : anone when they come there vnto them that esteme not the 
 same dygnyties, theyr honours immedyatlye vanysshe awaye 
 and cease. But thou maist say, y it is so amongest strauge 
 nacions. Do not the dignyties endure alwaies amongest the, 
 where they first began ? Understand no. Trulye the dygnyte 
 of the prefectory, was somtyme a great power, amonge the 
 Romaynes, which nowe is nothyng els, but a vayne name, and the 
 dygnytie of the senatours, that somtime was estemed an hyghe 
 honoure is nowe a great burden or charge. And yf a man had 
 the offyce to take hede of corne and other vytayle of the people, 
 he was taken for a greate man. Nowe what is lesse estemed then 
 the said prouostship ? Certes as I sayde a lytell before, the 
 thynge that hath no proper beawtye, or worshype of it selfe, 
 receyueth some tyme renoune and some tyme loseth renoune by 
 meanes of the vsage of the thinge. If therefore dignities cannot 
 
 6 1 
 
It is called 
 irreuerent 
 setes and 
 romes, y* 
 wycked men 
 do gyue. 
 
 make men reuerende ? If by their own meanes, they were foule, 
 and by the vice of wicked folke ? If they lose their bewtye and 
 vertue by mutacion of tymes ? And if they become detestable 
 and foule, in mens estimacion ? what goodnes is in them to be de- 
 syred, and cannot geue the same vnto other ? vnderstand none 
 at all. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 Al though the proud Nero, with all hys detestable and furious 
 lechery, decked and adornyd himselfe wyth fayre purple of the 
 country of Tyre, and also wyth white stones, called pearles, yet 
 for all that he liued disdained and hated of al men. And he 
 hauynge great segnorye and lordshyp gaue to the reuerende 
 fathers, the senators of Rome, reuerent seates, and roumes, 
 of dignities in courtes. Who therefore would thynke and take 
 such honours or roumes of dignityes good that such wretches do 
 geue ? vnderstad no man. 
 
 No man lyueth 
 alwaies in feli- 
 citie, but 
 sometyme, 
 he taysteth of 
 aduersytie. 
 
 There was a 
 Kynge of 
 Sysil, named 
 Dionysyus 
 that was euer 
 sad, his famy- 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 Can kingdomes and the acquaintaunce or fauoure of kinges, 
 make a man myghtye ? He aunswerith himselfe in mockynge 
 (called Ironice) what elles, when that their power enduryth euer ? 
 But surely olde tyme past, and thys our presente age, and tyme, 
 is full of examples y kyngs haue chaungyd their felicitie, into 
 sorowe and calamyte. And phylosophye sayth agayne Ironice, 
 O full noble and hyghe excellent is that power, whyche is not 
 founde sufficient ynoughe to preserue and defend it selfe. And 
 if the power of kynges be the cause of blessednes or felicitie, if 
 the same power faileth in any part, do it not diminisshe felicitye, 
 and bryngeth in wretchednes and miserye ? But yet although 
 the empire, and rule of mankynde be spred very wyde, and 
 brode, It behouethe that there be many people lefte, and 
 remaynynge, ouer whome euerye Kynge hath not dominion. So 
 that, on whatsoeuer syde, power wanteth, that shuld make men 
 blysfull and happye, on the same syde entreth weakenes or 
 lacke of power that maketh men wretches. So that by this 
 meanes it must nedes be, that there is . in kynges more 
 wretchednes and infelicitie : then blessednes and felycitie. A 
 certayne Tyraunte that hadde experience of the peryll of his 
 
 62 
 
estate and fortune, dyd declare and shewe the feare and dreade Iyer asked 
 
 of his kyngedome by the terrours of a sworde hangynge ouer w ™ nVmery ; 
 
 the heade of one of hys famylyer frendes. What is therefore thempon he 
 
 this power that cannot put awaye the bytinge of carefulnes, nor ket> and 
 
 auoid the prickings of feare. Certes these kynges woulde fayne caused his 
 
 , jo j famylyer to 
 
 lyue safely and sure, but they ca not. Maye they therefore from S yt therat, and 
 henceforthe reioyse of theyr power ? Doest thou iudge hym {J^^^ 
 myghtye whom thou seyst would do that thynge that he ca not his head, by a 
 do ? Doest thou esteme him myghtye that hath many men of xhe man 
 armes, aboute hym ? That more fearythe them that feareth se y n s the , 3 
 
 1 • ■> 1 11 ••■ ■ r swerd coulde 
 
 rum ? how semeth he mightye that is put in the handes of hys not be mery 
 seruauntes ? For what shal I say of them that be in the fauour io ?^. e > t0 . 
 
 1 who Dionysms 
 
 of kynges, when that I my selfe haue shewed the, that the same sayde such is 
 kyngedomes of themselfe be vnsure and mutable. And that ™ y feare', ye^ 
 often tymes the power of kynges, when it decayethe and fayleth, y u thoughteste 
 ouer throweth such as it auaunsed whe it nourished and was in sucheis'the 
 prosperitie. tyk of k i n 2 es > 
 
 1 r _ alwayes m 
 
 Kynge Nero constrayned Seneke his familiar maister that feare of some 
 taughte hym, to chose what death he woulde dye. Antonius, f™ £ ^ ^t 
 commaunded Papinion, that hadde bene longe a valiaunt man in Auctorytie, is 
 y court, to be slayne with the swordes of knyghtes. And both of this Dionysyus 
 them, that is to saye : Senecke, and Papinion, would haue for- fe ared so 
 
 , , .... r , moche Bar- 
 
 saken and haue yelded vp their power and aucthontie yf they bours that his 
 myght. Of the whyche two notable menne, Senecke labored to ^ere taueht 
 geue vnto Nero his riches, to haue his fauour and to go himselfe to shauehym, 
 into exile alone. But whyles that the same aucthoritie and j^s hearef PPe 
 power of kynges ruleth men redye to fall, and in suche indig- Senecke was 
 
 . . . . a famous 
 
 nation, nether of them, that is to saye : of Seneke and Papinion, learned man, 
 myght do that he woulde. Therefore what is this power, whych ^V TNero 
 when men haue it,, that they be aferde of ? whych whe thou in his chylde- 
 wouldst haue it, thou art not suer of it, And when thou wouldest pa P ; n i us was 
 leue it, thou cannest not eschewe it. Be they more thy frendes one most in 
 
 i fauoure with 
 
 at nede, that fortune, and not vertue getteth ? But surelye whom the tyraunt 
 
 good fortune maketh thy frende, euyll fortune maketh thine Anthonms 
 b J ' ■> Themporoure. 
 
 enemye and foe. And certes what pestylence is stronger to 
 hurt, then a famylyer enemye or so ? Understand surely none 
 at al. 
 
 63 
 
Philosophy. 
 
 He is myghty 
 that can subdu 
 sensualitye in 
 hymselfe and 
 folowe reason. 
 
 Thile is an 
 Ilande in the 
 sea beyonde 
 Britain wher 
 the sonne is in 
 the hyghest in 
 somer and 
 goeth not 
 beyode the 
 same Had. 
 
 Glorye is a 
 common fame 
 with laud and 
 prayse. 
 
 Fame is the 
 knowledge of 
 a man for hys 
 actes and 
 deades as wel 
 farre of as 
 nyghe. 
 
 A foole setteth 
 his mynd, 
 vpo glorye, a 
 wise man, 
 vpon his con- 
 science. 
 
 If thou bee 
 fayre thanke 
 nature. If 
 thou be noble, 
 
 He that wylbe myghtie, must subdue and mayster his cruell 
 desirs and appetytes, and may not put his necke vnder (as one 
 ouercome) to y foule raygnes and libertye of lecherye or vicious 
 mocions. Although thy power and aucthoritie extendethe so 
 farre, as the grounde and countrey of India, trembleth and fereth 
 thy lawes, and comaundementes. And albeit, that the ferthest 
 He in the sea calleth Thile, doth serue and obeye the : Yet if 
 thou cannest not put awaye the foule darke cares, and auoyde 
 wretched complaynts from the that do happen by euyll fortune, 
 thy power is nothing, or thou hast no power at all worthy to be 
 estemed. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 But how deceyueable is glory oftetymes, whervpon (not with- 
 oute cause) a certayne poete (that vsed to make dities) cried oute 
 and sayde. O glory glorye, emongeste thousandes of men, thou 
 art nothyng ells but a great swellynge or fillynge of mens eares. 
 
 For certes manye men, haue receyued and had often grete 
 fame, by the false opinion of the people. And what thing may 
 be thought more feble, then suche fame of the people : For they 
 y be praysed vnworthelye, ought to be ashamed of their prayse, 
 whyche prayses if they be iustly deserued, what thinge hath it 
 augmentyd to the conscience of a wise ma, that mesureth not 
 his good by the rumour of the people, but by the truth of hys 
 conscience. And yf this thing be goodly to haue a fame spredde 
 abrode, then is it a consequence that it is a foul thinge to be 
 kept close. And as I sayde a lytell before, that it muste neades 
 be that there be manye people, to whome the fame of one man 
 cannot come, it foloweth then that he whome thou estemest to 
 be famous and renomed semeth not gloryous nor famous, in the 
 moste parte of the worlde. And truelye emongest these thynges, 
 I do not thynke the fauour or prayse of the people worthye to 
 be remembred, that commeth not by wyse and iuste iudgement, 
 nor firmely endureth or continueth euer. Nowe truely, what man 
 seith not how vaine and slipperie the name of nobilitie and 
 gentlesse is ? Whych if it be referred to glorye and renoune of 
 lynage, it is none of theirs that soo do glorye therin. For nobilitie 
 or gentlesse semeth to be a certayne prayse, commynge by the 
 
 64 
 
deserts of their auncetoures. And if laude and praysynge ofhlode, 
 maketh nobilitie or gentelesse, then muste they be nedes noble thank f thy 
 
 , . J parentes. It 
 
 and gentyll, that be praysed. Therfore another mans glory, fhoubever- 
 nobilitie, or gentelles, maketh not the noble or gentle, yf thou ^oT' nThou 
 haue no nobilitie or gentlesse of thy selfe, commynge by thine b e T^he, 
 owne desertes. But Certes yf ther be any good in noblesse or '"' ° rtUne " 
 gentles, I thynke it semeth to be as a thynge of necessitie ioyned 
 to noblesse and gentles, that they do not degenerate or vary 
 from the vertue of their noble, or gentle progenitours and 
 auncestours. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 Al mankynde lyuynge in thys worlde commeth of one and Nobylytie, is 
 like byrth. For Certes one alone is the father of thynges. And X^ fromThe 
 there is one a lone that mynistreth and geuethe all thynges, he f y rste he P n : 
 
 , , i . - nynge, that is 
 
 gaue to the sonne his beames, he gaue to the mone her homes, to saye : from 
 y is, to be sharp at both endes in y wane, he gaue vnto man- 2,°^^ 
 kynde the earth, and the sterres vnto the firmament, he inclosed soule to the 
 the soule of man with members of the body, which soule came morta11 body ' 
 from the high sete of heuen. Therefore all mortall men came of 
 noble sede or begynnyng, that is to saye, from God. Whye then 
 do you bost your selfe of your kinred and auncetors. For yf you 
 beholde God, your begynnyng and maker, then is there none 
 degenerate, that is to say vnnoble or vngentell of byrthe, 
 except he forsake God, hys begynnynge, geuing hymselfe to 
 vyces. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 But what shall I saye of corporall plesures, the desire A harlot asked 
 whereof is full of carefulnes, and the satisfyenge thereof is S^phy 161163 
 ful of payne and sorow, how great sycknes and intollerable sopher a .c. 
 dolours be these pleasures wonte to brynge to the bodyes of on^to com- 
 suche as do vse them, as a certayne fruyte of such wyckednes, panye with 
 of the whyche pleasures, what delectacion their motions and but he lokig 
 effectes haue, I know not. For whosoeuer wil remeber hym- v P war, 3e to- 
 
 J warde heauen 
 
 selfe of his pleasurs, he shall well knowe that the endes thereof sayde, he 
 be sorow full and greuous. Whyche pleasures temporall if they w " ^ °* t 
 coulde make men blessed and happye, then is there no cause painesodeare. 
 but that brute beastes may also be called blessed, whose hole There be two 
 intent and purpose, hasteth to fulfyll their bodelye plesure. The maner ° f P lea - 
 
 L l J l sures, the one 
 
 reioysynge also of wyfe and chyldren should be honest, but it is inteliectuall, 
 
 65 K 
 
that consisteth 
 in heauenlye 
 thinge=, the 
 other is tem- 
 porall, that 
 cosisteth, f 
 worldly, and 
 transytorie 
 thynges. 
 
 The father 
 and mother, 
 be carefull for 
 theyr Chyld- 
 ren, yf they be 
 good, for fear 
 of euil, yf they 
 bee not good, 
 they be sorye 
 for theyr euyll. 
 
 Lecherye is a 
 shorte pleasure 
 bryngynge in 
 longe payne, 
 for it dis- 
 troyeth vertue, 
 it shorteneth 
 the life, and 
 commonlydys- 
 troy the bodye 
 and shorteneth 
 the lyfe. 
 
 He that is full 
 of mony, is 
 violent to 
 other, from 
 whom he had 
 it. 
 
 He that 
 foloweth plea- 
 sures of the 
 
 said much agaynst nature and kynde, that some haue had 
 chyldren y haue ben tormentors to their parentes, but I doo not 
 knowe howe many of the whiche chyldren, howe bytynge and 
 carefull euery conditio is, it is no nede to shewe the, that hast 
 proued it al redy. Nor yet to moue the beinge carefull nowe for 
 the same. In whych thing I do allowe the sentens of my 
 dyscyple Euripydis that sayde, he is happye by mischaunce that 
 hath no chyldren. 
 
 Al pleasure temporall hathe thys thinge in it. That is to saye. 
 It vexeth and troubleth all the that vse it, which prickes or 
 sorowe. And it is like to the stingynge of bees fleyng aboute. 
 After that the bee hath put out his swete honye, he fleyth and 
 stingeth with ouerlonge paine the hartes of the that be stinged. 
 That is asmuch to sai, as the anguyshe and payne that foloweth 
 after temporal plesure, is farre longer, then the pleasure thereof. 
 Or as a man woulde saye : for a lytle pleasure, longe payne. Or 
 thus : the honye is not somuche delycyous and sweete, but the 
 payne of stynging of a bee, is much more dolorous, to hym that 
 tastethe bothe. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 Therefore there is no doughte but that these wayes, be 
 certayne bywayes vnto felicitie or blessednes and cannot brynge 
 anye man thyther as they do promisse to brynge the. But wyth 
 howe great perylles and euyls, they be wrapped, I will shew you 
 shortlye. Certes what thynge of these folowing is without 
 peryll. Thou shalte not goo aboute to gather monye, but thou 
 shalte take it awaye from some man that hathe it. If thou 
 wouldeste shyne wyth dignities, thou must make peticion to 
 hym that geueth them ? If thou desirest to excell others in 
 honoure, thou makest thy selfe subiecte, by humble askynge of 
 them. If thou desire power : thou shalt be in daunger of 
 beseging or layinge in awayte of them that be inferiors to the ? 
 If thou aske glory, thou being troubled wyth euery aduersitie, 
 canest not be quyet. And if thou woldest lede a voluptuouse 
 lyfe, euery ma wold dispise the and cast in thy teth, the 
 thraldome and bondage of thy bodily actes, and dedes, most 
 vyle and bryttell, that is to saye : that thou art a bondeman to 
 the vile pleasures of thy bodye. Nowe than, they that desyre 
 corporall goodes aboue them selfe, that is to saye : aboue reason, 
 
 66 
 
howe lytell and frayle possessyon do they labour for ? Cannyst body is ser- 
 thou excell the elephantes in greatenes, or the bulks in strenghte? ^y! ° f h ' S 
 mayste thou surmout the tyger in swiftnes? loke vpon the 
 space and compasse of the firmamet the stedfastnes and 
 swyftenes thereof, and than cesse to wonder at these vile inferior 
 worldly thinges. Whych fyrmament certes is not rather to be 
 wondred at for these thynges, but for the self same reson wherby 
 it is gouerned. But howe swyftly passynge away and transitorye Alcibiadeswas 
 and howe fletynge and more swyfter fadynge awaye, is the womanthat 
 beawty of the body, the y mutabilitie or chauge of the sommer couldebeseen, 
 flowers. And (as Aristotle sayth) if that men had eyes as quick tyme , i n so 
 as a beast named Lynx, soo that their sighte myghte se thorowe moche that hls 
 or penetrate the bodies that they doo see, shoulde not that bodye broughte her 
 of Alcibiades that was mooste fayre without fourthe, seme most [° ^e'vponi 
 foule within to them that sawe y in trayles, or inner partes and beholde. 
 thereof? And so therefore thy owne nature causethe not the 
 to seme fayre, but the wekenes of the eyes, that loketh vpon 
 the, cawseth it. But esteme thou the goodes or fayrenes of the 
 bodye as much as thou wylt, so that thou doest knowe that the 
 same goodes or fayrenes, whatsoeuer it be that thou meruailest A feuer of thre 
 at, or so estemest, maye be dessolued and clene take awaye, fgntfeue/that 
 with the heate of a feuer, that lasteth but three dayes. Of all for the mooste 
 whyche thyngs before sayd, a man may gather breyfely that {he patient 6 in 
 these worldely thynges, that cannot perfourme the goodnes that ^ at short 
 they promes or seme to haue in the nor be yet perfytte by 
 hepynge vppe of goodes they (I say) be not as ways and pathes 
 to brynge men to felycitye and blissidnes, nor can make men 
 happy or blessed. 
 
 PHYLOSOPHY. 
 
 Alas, alas, what ignoraunce ledethe wandringe wretches in a 
 wronge waye clene contrary fr5 felicitie, and perfet goodnes. 
 Ye seke not golde, vpon the grene tree, nor gather perles vpon 
 the vyne tree, ye hyde not your engynce or nettes to take fysh 
 vpon the hyghe mountaignes to make rych feastes of fyshe. 
 And ye goe not to the waters Therene, when you lyst to hunt 
 the goote or roo. 
 
 Men do knowe the secrete ebbyhges, crekes, and cauernes in 
 the flouds of the sea, and which shore of the sea is full of whyte 
 perles, or whych shore aboundith most with a shell fyshe, that 
 
 6 7 
 
serueth to dye red purple with all. And whyche costes of the 
 see hath aboundaunce of tender fishes, or of sharp fyshes called 
 Echynes. But men do make themselfe so blynde, that they 
 force not to knowe wher the sayd perfytte goodnes and felicitie, 
 lyethe hidde, that they seke for, and doo couet or desyre. And 
 dyuers of them do seke in the erth, that perfyt felicitie, y sur- 
 mounteth the fyrmament, that beryth the sterres. What maye 
 I desyre worthy for the folyshe thoughtes and myndes of men. 
 They seke for ryches and honor, and when they haue gotten 
 suche false goodes with great trauell : Then I would wyshe 
 that they myght know the trewe and perfyt goodes and 
 felycitie. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 Hetherto it suffyseth that I haue shewed the maner and 
 forme, of false felicite or blessednes, which if thou beholdeste 
 perfetlye, it restythe to declare from henceforthe, whyche is the 
 very true felicitie. 
 
 Boe: Truelye I do se, that ryches cannot be satisfied with 
 suffysaunce, nor power wyth kyngedomes, nor reuerence with 
 dygnities, nor glory with nobilitie or getles, nor myrth with 
 pleasures. Phil: And hast thou perceyued the causes why it 
 is so ? Bo: Certes me semeth that I see them as it were 
 thorowe a thynne or narrowe chyn or clyfte, that is to saye : not 
 very perfytlye, but I had leuer knowe them more apparauntly 
 of the. Phil: Truely the redye waye to knowe them is very 
 perfytte. For that thinge, that by nature is symple plaine and 
 inseperable, mans errour deuideth and separatith the same, and 
 leadethe it from the true and perfyt good or felicitie, vnto false 
 and vnperfyt good, and infelicitie. But thynkest thou thys, that 
 a man hath nede of nothinge, that nedeth power ? 
 
 BOE: I say nay. 
 
 Ph: Trulye thou sayest well, for if there be anye thing that in 
 any matter is of weke power, in that behalfe, it is nedefull 
 that it wanteth and lacketh the helpe of som other. 
 
 BOE: I saye it is euen so. 
 
 PHIL: Therefore suffysaunce and power be both one and lyke 
 by nature and kynde. 
 
 BOE: So it semethe. PHIL: And doest thou think that such 
 thynges as suffisaunce, and power be, are to be dispysed, or 
 
 68 
 
contrarye wyse, that they be most worthy reuerence aboue all 
 thinges. Boe: I saye it is worthy reuerence and it may be no 
 doute thereof. 
 
 Phil: Let vs therefore conferre reuerence, to suffysaunce and 
 power, that we may iudge these three thynges, all one thynge. 
 Boe : Let vs adde them together as one thynge, yf we wyll 
 confesse the truthe. Phil : What thynkest thou than, dooste 
 thou iudge that to be an obscure and ignoble thynge, that is 
 suffyasunt, myghty and reuerend, or els right clere and excellent 
 by al fame and renoune ? And consider also whether that 
 thinge, that hath nede of nothynge, that is moste myghtye, that 
 is most worthy honor (as it is afore grauted) and hath nede yet 
 of fame and renoune, whyche it cannot geue vnto it selfe, 
 shoulde it seeme for that moore abiecte or lesse estemed of any 
 parte ? 
 
 BOE: I can not denye it, but I muste nedes confesse it, as it is 
 in dede, ryght famous of renoune and noblenes. 
 
 Phil: Then it is a consequence, that we confesse and graunt 
 that glory and renoune nothynge differethe from the other three, 
 that is to say, from ryches, suffysaunce and power. 
 
 Boe: I saye it foloweth. 
 
 Phil: Than the thinge that hath no nede of any other, that 
 canne do all thinges of his owne myght, that is clere noble and 
 reuerend : do not this truely appere to be a thynge moste 
 ioyfull. 
 
 Boe: I saye I cannot certaynelye tell or thynke from whence 
 any sorow maye happen to any such thynge. 
 
 Phil: Then it is nede that we muste graunt this thinge to be Gladnes is a 
 full of gladenes, if the foresayd thynges remayne true. And also ^SdoTof 
 we must nedes graunte that the names of suffisaunce, power, a mans appe- 
 noblesse reuerence and gladnes, be dyuers and sondry thynges, ina'nyegood' 
 but ther substaunce is all one, without any dyuersitie. thynge that he 
 
 J J hath gotten. 
 
 BOE: I saye it must nedes be euen so. 
 
 Phil: Then the selfe same thynge that is all one and symple 
 or pure of nature, and cannot be deuyded, the wyckednes of men 
 deuydeth it, and when they labour to get part of a thyng that 
 hath no partes, they nether gette anye porcion of the thynge, 
 nor yet the selfe same thynge that they desyre. BOE: I saye 
 after what maner do men deuyde the thynges. Phi: He that He * at de ; 
 
 syreth moch 
 
 seketh ryches, to auoyde and defende pouertie, he laboureth not one thynge 
 
 69 
 
onelye 
 
 amongeste 
 other worldlye 
 thynges : 
 Semeth to 
 dyspyse al 
 other, but 
 onelye that he 
 so feruentlye 
 desyrethe, and 
 yet he hath 
 nede of manye 
 other thynges, 
 that be neces- 
 sarie to hym. 
 
 Perfyte fely- 
 citie, or 
 blyssednes. 
 
 to get power, but had leuer be accounted nedy vyle and pore, 
 and also forgo and lose many naturall pleasures, then he wold 
 lose the mony that he hath gotten. But by this meanes he that 
 lacketh power, he that is greued, he that is vile or out cast, and 
 he that is of noo fame or of no reputation, hath no suffysaunce. 
 And truelye he that onely desyreth power, spendeth and 
 wasteth riches, dispiseth pleasures and honoure wythoute power, 
 and setteth not by glorye. But certes thou seyst that he wanteth 
 many thynges, and yet happethe that he hath sometyme nede 
 of thynges necessarye, and is bitten or greued wyth care and 
 anguyshe. And when he cannot put awaye these thyngs, he 
 cesseth and is not myghtye, whych is y thing that he mooste 
 cheyfely desyred. And lykewyse a man may reson and speake 
 of honors, glorye, and pleasuers, as of power, and suffysaunce. 
 For when euerye one of them is the selfe same, and lyke the other, 
 whosoeuer seketh to get any one of them w'out the others, certes 
 he hath not that he desyrethe. BOE. I saye what than, yf a 
 man coueteth to gette all the to gether. Phil. Certes I wolde 
 say that he woulde get hym soueraigne felicitie and blessednes. 
 But shoulde he fynde the same soueraygne felicitie, in thynges, 
 that I haue shewed that cannot geue and performe that thing 
 that they do promes ? 
 
 Boe: I saye they cannot. 
 
 Phil: Therefore blessednes or perfyt felicitie should be sought 
 for, in noo wyse in the thynges that are thoughte to geue but one 
 thing singulerly, of all thynges that are to be desyred. 
 
 Bo: I saye I confesse the same and nothynge can be sayde 
 more true then that. 
 
 Phil: Therefore haste thou bothe the forme and the causes of 
 false felicitie. Nowe turne the inwarde thoughte of thy mynde, 
 vnto the contrary, for there thou shalt see anone the same true 
 and perfyt felicitie and blessednes, that I haue promysed. 
 
 B: Truly I say this is very playne and euident, and it were 
 to a blyndman, and thou dyddyst shew the same trewe and per- 
 fyt felicitie a lytell before, when thou dyddyste laboure to shewe 
 me the causes of false felicitie. For (except I be deceyued) 
 the same is the treue and perfyt felicitie or blessednes that 
 perfourmeth in ma suffisance power, reuerence, noblesse, and 
 gladnes. And that thou mayste knowe that I do perceyue the 
 same inwardely I do confesse vndoutedlye that the same is the 
 
 70 
 
full and perfyt felicitie or blessednes, that maye truely per- 
 fourme one of the sayd thynges, for by cause they all be one, and 
 the selfe same thynge, and not dyuers thynges in substaunce, that 
 is to say, suffysaunce, power, reuerence, noblesse, and ioye or 
 gladnes. Phyl: O my chyld Boece I perceue thou art happye 
 or blessed in thys opinion, yf thou wylte put thereto this, that 
 I shal say. 
 
 BOE: I saye what is that. 
 
 Phi: Thynkest thou that there be anye thynge in these 
 worldly and transitorye thynges y may bring in or shew any 
 such state. 
 
 BOE: I say I thinke not. For thou hast shewed that nothynge 
 can be desyred, aboue perfytte felicitie. 
 
 Phil: Therfore these worldlye thynges, that is to saye 
 worldelye suffisaunce, power reuerece nobles and pleasures, 
 semethe to geue vnto men the symylitudes or lykenes, of true 
 good, or ells to geue certaine vnperfit and fained goodes : for 
 truly they cannot geue the true and perfyt good. 
 
 Boe: I say I graunt the same. 
 
 Phil: Now for bycause thou hast knowen whyche is the 
 same verye true and perfytte felicitie, and whyche fayneth, or dis- 
 symulythe the same, that is to saye, that shewethe the false feli- 
 citie, then nowe it resteth that thou mayst knowe where thou 
 mayste seke for this trewe felicitie. 
 
 BOECIUS: Certes that thynge I saye, I greately loked for nowe 
 of late. Phylosophy: But forsomuch as it pleseth my scoler 
 Plato, in his boke, named Thimeo, he saith that in the lest 
 thynges of all, the helpe of God, ought to be required. What 
 thynkest f now to be done, that we maye deserue to fynde the 
 sete or place of the same soueraygne good ? Boe: I saye, 
 we must cal vpon the father of all thynges, that is to saye, 
 almyghtye God, wythout who no begynnynge is well and per- 
 fytelye made. PHIL: Thou sayeste truely. And wythout 
 taryenge she, that is to saye: phylosophy, made her prayer vnto 
 God, euen thus as foloweth. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 O Father and maker of heuen, and erth, that gouerneth the 
 worlde wyth thy perpetual prouidence, And causeth y time 
 
 71 
 
The lyghte 
 Cartis, be the 
 sterres, or 
 reason, or vn- 
 derstandyng, 
 that shulde 
 guyde the 
 Soule. 
 
 Beastes trees, 
 or plantes, be 
 of lesse lyfe, 
 the marines 
 soule, that is 
 immortall, and 
 all the other be 
 mortal. 
 The soule is a 
 
 to passe forth, fro thy age perdurable. Thou beyng alwaye 
 fyrme and stable, causest all thynges to be moued, whome no 
 outwarde causes haue brought out, to make a worke of flowyng 
 fletynge or wauerynge matter. But the inwarde forme of thy 
 inestimable goodnes, withoute enuye or malyce, hath moued the 
 thereto frely. Thou bryngest forthe al thinges from thy godly 
 example aboue, beyng moste fayre of all other, berying in thy 
 remembraunce the goodly hole worlde, accordynge to the lykenes, 
 as it was conceiued, and formed in thy thought before thou com- 
 maundeste the sayde worlde, (beyng made perfyt) to hold abso- 
 lutely his perfyt partes, that is to say : the elementes and all 
 thynges made of them. Thou byndeste the elementes by nomber 
 accordyngely, so that the colde thinges maye agre with the hote 
 thinges, and the drye thynges with the moost. That the fyer 
 that is most pure flye not to hye, nor the heuynes or wayte of the 
 erth drawe downe the same ouerlowe. 
 
 Thou God, deuidest by membres conueniente and consonante 
 the soule of the worlde, that is to saye : the bodyes or planetes 
 aboue, being meane betwene God and mannes soule, that is 
 also of a three folde operacion, mouyng all thinges here in this 
 worlde, by there influence and myghtye power. Which soul or 
 planetes being deuided hath gathered or engendryd a mouing by 
 operacion, into two worldes circles or speres, that is to say. The 
 spere that fyrst moueth, and the spere of the pianettes. And 
 the same soule or planetes returned agayne, goethe into it selfe 
 by intelligence, whiche is one operacion, and compassethe the 
 profounde and depe thought by knowyng of God, whych is 
 another operacion. And so it mouethe the heuen by like ymage 
 or intelligence whyche is the thirde operation. 
 
 Thou bryngest forth the soules of men, and the lesse lyues, 
 that is to saye, lyuynge brute beastes, and all growyng things 
 by lyke maner and causes. And shapest the reasonable soules 
 of men, to the lyght cartes, that is to say : to the sterrs of 
 heuen. 
 
 Thou sowest the soules in heuen, and in the earth, that is to 
 say, into aungeles in heuen, and into bodyes of mankind on the 
 erth whyche soules of mankynde, when they be conuertyd vnto 
 the, by thy benygne or gentle law thou causest them so to 
 retourn, by thy turnynge fyer, of charitable loue. 
 
 O father, graunt that mans thought maye ascende vp into that 
 
 72 
 
strayte and noble sete of hygh and perfytte goodnes, and graunt dyuyne thyng, 
 
 that it maye fynde the foutaine of goodnes, and graunt also begynnyng 
 
 (that after the light is founde) to fasten her cleare syght in the. f y rst » n heauen 
 
 Put away the cloudes, and waytes or burdens of the delyghte of whom all 
 
 worldely thinges. And shine thou with thine owne bryghtnes. ^^'" ges 
 
 For thou arte cleare and resplendaunte, and a quyet rest to meke God is oure 
 
 myndes and thoughtes. ourTed°er g from 
 
 To loke on the, is the ende of al things thou beinge the selfe erroure, to 
 ji i ,1 11111 truethe. 
 
 and the same one onely, art the begynnyng, the bearer, the leder, 
 
 the path, and terme or ende, beyonde the whyche, there can be 
 
 nothinge iustly thought or desyred. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 For by cause thou hast sene whiche is the forme of perfytte 
 good, and whych also is the forme of imperfette good. Nowe I 
 thynke it mete to declare wherein thys perfytte good or felicitie 
 is set. In the which I do iudge to inquyre fyrste, whether anye 
 suche perfit good (as the same that thou a litel before dyddyst 
 defyne or determine) myght be in the nature of thyngs, that no 
 vayne imaginacion or shadowe deceyue vs, and put vs out of the 
 trewth of the thynge or matter, that we be aboute to talke of. 
 And it cannot be denyed, but that there is parfytte good : And 
 the same good is the fountayne of al good. For why ? euery 
 thyng that is called vnparfytte, the same is taken vnperfit by 
 diminishing of y thing that is perfytte. Whereby it commethe 
 to passe, that yf (in any kynde of thynge) any thing is sene to 
 be vnperfytte, therin, it is necessary that somthyng be also 
 parfytte. For yf parfection be taken awaye, certes it cannot be 
 imagyned from whence that thynge is, that is adiudged vn- 
 parfytte. For the nature of thynges toke neuer any begynnynge 
 of thynges dymynished and vnparfitte but procedynge from 
 hole and parfytte thynges, came downe or descended into these 
 lower and baren thynges. And (as I haue shewed a litel before) 
 if ther be any felicitie or blessednes vnperfyte vayne or frayle, 
 it may not be doubted but that there is some felicitie and 
 blessednes that is hole and perfyt. Boe : I saye it is fyrmely 
 and truely concluded. PHIL. But consider after this maner, 
 wherein perfytte felicitie dwellethe. 
 
 The common conceyte of mans minde do proue, that God is 
 
 71 l 
 
the soueraygne and cheyfe good of al things. Forwhe nothyng 
 maye be thought better then God, what man doutyth that 
 thinge to be good when nothynge is better than it. Euen soo 
 truelye, reason declareth that GOD is good, that it maye conclude 
 also, that perfyt good is in him. For except it were soo, he 
 canne not be prynce and soueraynge of all thynges. For some- 
 thyng hauing perfytte good, shoulde be better then he, and it 
 shulde seme that that same thing were before and of more 
 antiquitie or elder then God. For all thynges perfytte, are 
 manyfest and do appere to be fyrst, before things that be 
 vnperfyt. Wherefore, that my reason goeth not fourth in- 
 fynytely, or wythoute ende, we muste graunte the hyghe God 
 to be full of soueraygne and perfytte good. And we haue con- 
 fyrmed and establyshed before, that perfit good is true felicitie 
 or blessednes. Therfore it muste nedes be, that trewe felycitie, 
 or blissednes : is set in the high God. BOE: I do graunt it, and 
 it maye not be denyed by any meanes. 
 
 PHYLO: But I beseche the, se howe fyrmelye, and howe holy 
 thou mayst proue, that we haue sayde, that the hyghe almyghty 
 God, is full of soueraygne good. BOE: Howe should I proue it. 
 
 P: Dost thou thinke that the father of al things hath taken 
 from any outwarde thinge the same soueraygne good, whereof 
 it is sayde he is ful, or els thynkest thou that he hath it 
 naturallye of hymselfe ? As thoughe thou shouldyst thinke that 
 God hymselfe and the blessednes of God be of dyuers distyncte 
 substaunce and not vnite all in one or of one onely substaunce ? 
 For yf thou thynkest that God hath receyued the sayde good 
 outwardlye of any other, thou mayst iudge and esteme the same 
 that gaue it hym, better and more excellent then he that 
 receyueth it. But I do confesse that God is ryght worthylye 
 mooste soueraygne and excellent of all thynges. And truely 
 yf soueraygne good be in God by nature, but yet by reason 
 dyueres, when we speke of God the soueraygne prynce of all 
 thyng, let hym faine that can, who hath ioyned together these 
 diuers thynges, that is to say, God and soueraygne good. Farther- 
 more the thinge that differeth from euery thing, the same is not 
 the verye same thynge, that it differeth from. So that the thing 
 that diffreth from soueraygne good, is not by nature of it selfe, 
 the same soueraygne good. But it were a wycked thynge or 
 wronge so to thynke of that thinge, that is to say : of God, that 
 
 74 
 
excelleth and passethe all other in goodnes. For alwayes the 
 nature of nothynge maye be thought to be better then the 
 begynnyng of the same thyng. Wherefore I shall conclude by 
 good reason, that the thynge, that is, the begynning of all 
 thynges is of hys owne substauce soueraygne good. 
 
 BOE: I saye it is wel concluded. 
 
 Phil. But it is graunted before that soueraygne good, is per- 
 fytte felycitie and blessednes. 
 
 B: I saye no lesse but it is euen soo. 
 
 Phil: Therfor it behoueth to confesse that God is the same 
 soueraygne good. B: I saye I can not auoyde, the resons 
 before alledged. And I do perceyue that thys thyng shewed of 
 them, is a very consequence to the thyngs. Phil: Beholde now 
 whether thys thynge maye be proued hereafter more firmely, that 
 two soueraign good thynges that dyffer one from another, may 
 not be. For it apperethe that the goodes that dyffer of them 
 selfe, can not be all one thynge : Therefore nether of them canne 
 be perfytte when that one of them hath nede of the other. But 
 it is manyfest that the same, that is vnperfytte, is not soueraygne 
 and perfytte. Therefore the goodes that be soueraygne, by no 
 meanes may be dyuers or dyffer one from another. Soo then I 
 have proued and gathered that both blessednes and God, be 
 soueraigne good. Wherefore it behoueth that the soueraygne 
 dyuinitie, is the same lyke thyng, as soueraygne blessednes 
 or felicitie. BOE: I saye that by thys meanes nothyng may be 
 concluded more true, nor more firme by reasoning, nor more 
 worthy, then God. PHI: Therefore vpon these thynges, (as the 
 Geometricians are wonte to brynge in thynges, that they call 
 apparaunces after they haue shewed their propositions) eue so 
 wyll I geue the as a correlary or conclusyon, for bycause that men 
 be made blessed by obteyning of blessednes, and that blessednes 
 is the same dyuinitie, it is manyfest y men be made blessed by 
 optaining of the diuinitie. And as men be made iuste by 
 obtaynyng of Iustice, and wyse by obteynyng of wysedome : So 
 by lyke reson it behoueth that men y haue gotten diuinitie, be 
 made gods. Then is euery blessyd man a God : But certes by 
 nature, there is but one God, albeit by participacion of dyuynitie, 
 no thyng letteth, or prohibyteth, but there be many Goddes. 
 
 BOE: I saye this is a gaye, and a precious thynge, whether The Prophet 
 thou woldest call it apparens, or a conclusion. PH: And certes yThe al gods 
 
 75. "' 
 
and the sones, nothyng is fayrer, or more goodly then this thyng, that reason 
 t°he C hy«t. en ° f perswaded shulde be added to these forsayde thynges. BoE: I 
 saye what thyng is it. PHY: When blyssednes semeth to con- 
 tayne many thyngs, it is to doubte, whether all these thynges do 
 ioyne togyther, as it were one body of blyssednes, by certayne 
 diuersytie, or varyete of partes, or membres, or whether there be 
 any one thynge, of them that of it self acc5plisheth the substaunce 
 of blyssednes, vnto the whiche all the other be referred. BOE: 
 I saye, I wolde thou woldest open the same vnto me, by example 
 of the same thynges. Phi: Haue I not iudged that blissednes 
 is good. BoE: I say we haue thought it souerayne good. Phil: 
 It behoueth that thou adde souerayne good to all these thinges 
 that folowe For blissednes, is sufferayne suffysaunce, the same 
 is soueraygne power, the same is soueraygne reuerence, the same is 
 soueraigne clerenes, and the same is demed to be soueraygne 
 pleasure. Boe: What then ? Phil: Be all these thynges, that 
 is to saye : suffysaunce, power, and the other thynges, as it were 
 membres of blissednes ? or whether be they all referred vnto 
 good, as vnto the chyefe of them. Bo: I say, I perceiue well 
 what thou preposyst to serch out, but I desyre to here what thou 
 defynest or dost determyne. PHY: Vnderstande thou the solucion 
 of the questyon thus. If all these thynges, were membres of blys- 
 sednes : then shoulde they dyffer one from another. For suche is 
 the nature of partes, that dyuers partes or mebres do make one 
 bodye. Boe: Truely, all these thinges haue ben shewed before, 
 to be all one thinge. Phi: Then be they no membres, or els 
 it shoulde seme, that blyssednes were ioyned, or made al of one 
 mebre, which can not be. BOE: I say it is, no doute, but I loke 
 for the resydue of thy question that remaineth. P: Truelye 
 it is manyfest that all other things be referred vnto good. For 
 therefore suffysaunce is requyred, by cause it is thought to be good. 
 Therefore power, is desired, for it is thoughte also to be good. 
 And lykewyse a man may coniecture of reuerence, noblesse, and 
 plesure or delyghte. Then is soueraygne good the effecte and 
 cause of all thynges that are to be desyred. For that thinge that 
 hath no good in it self nor symylytude or likenes of good, by no 
 meanes ought to be desyred. And on the contrary wise those 
 thynges also, that by nature be not good, yet yf they seeme to 
 be as they were verye good, they be desyred : whereby it hap- 
 pethe that bountye or goodnes, is thought ryghtfully the verye 
 
 76 
 
effecte and cause of all thynges to be desyred or loked for. For 
 that thyng semeth cheyfly to be desyred or wished, for the cause 
 or loue, wherof any thing is desyred. As yf a man would ryde 
 for cause of helth, he desyreth not so much the mouing to ryde, 
 as the effect of his helth. Therfore when that all thyngs be 
 desyred, for the cause and loue of good, they be not desyred 
 rather of al me, the the same good. But we haue graunted that 
 felicitie or blessednes is the thinge for the whyche all other 
 thynges be desyred : wherefore onely felicitie or blessednes is 
 sought for. Whereby it appereth clerely, that there is but one 
 substaunce of the same good, and of blessednes or felicitie. 
 
 BOE: I se nothyng why any man may contede or say any thing 
 to the contrarye. 
 
 Phil: But we haue shewed before that God and perfet bles- 
 sednes or felicitie, is all one, and the selfe same thyng. Boe: I 
 say the same. Phil: Therefore it is lawefull to conclude safelye 
 and truelye, that the substaunce of God, is sette also in the same 
 good, and not ells where, in any other thynge. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Come hether to gether all ye that be taken wyth the wycked 
 chaynes of deceytfull pleasure of erthlye thynges dwellyng in your 
 myndes here, that is to say : in perfytte felicitie shalbe the rest of 
 your labours. Here is the standing port or hauen for plesaunt 
 quyetnes, here is the onely open house of refuge for the carefull. Tagus is a 
 That is as much to say, as all ye that be wrapped and tangled spayn'^that 
 with temporal affections, come to God, whiche is perfyt felicitie. hath g rau eil 
 Where ye shalbe suffysed with al good thynges that canne be goide. 
 desidered. For what soeuer thynge the floude Tagus with hys ^ T? "V* 5 . a 
 golden grauell or sande geueth, or the floud Hermus with his hauing graueil 
 shinynge banke, or the floud Indus, that is nexte vnto the hote g"i d y 
 part of the world and myngyth the grene precious stons with the Indus is a 
 
 aiii iii-i flode that 
 
 whyte stones. Al these do not make clere the sight or vnder- rennyth to 
 standyng of your myndes and thoughtes, but rather wrappeth vp th j r u d ,v e f - t 
 your blynde myndes into their darkenes, making you to forget much perle 
 God, thus (whatsoeuer pleaseth and stereth youre myndes here) ^"edous" 5 
 the earthe hath noryshed the same in her low cauernes. But the stones. 
 shynynge wherewith the heuen is gouernyd and continueth in 
 strength and forse, putteth away the darke ruyne and decay of 
 
 77 
 
the soul, and whosoeuer may perceyue the same shining, he wyll 
 denye, and refuse the resplendent beames of the son. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 I assent to all thy sayinges, for they all be knytt to gether with 
 ryghte stronge reasons. 
 
 Phil: Howe muche wylte thou esteme it, if thou knowest 
 what thynge the sayde good is ? 
 
 Boe: I wyll esteme it aboue all things if it so happen that I 
 maye knowe also there withall, God that is good. Phil: Certes 
 I shall open the same by very good reason, so that the thynges, 
 that be concluded a lytle before, do yet remayne in thy mynde. 
 BOECIUS: I saye they shall remayne. Ph: Haue I not shewed 
 the that the same thinges that be desyred of many folke, that is 
 to say : suffysaunce, reuerence, power, and such other be not 
 true, and perfyt goodes, by cause they vary and dyffer one from 
 another ? and that when the one is without the other it may not 
 brynge in suche good that is full and absolute, that is to saye, 
 hauynge nede of nothyng ? But we haue shewed before, that then 
 it is trewe and perfyt good when that all the sayd thynges be 
 gathered together, as into one forme, that is to saye into good, 
 so that the same that is suffysaunce, is power, reuerence, noblesse, 
 and delight. And truely except all the sayde thinges be one 
 without diuersite, they haue nothynge in them whereby they 
 shoulde be accountyd emongeste thynges that are to be desyred. 
 BOE: I saye it is declared alredy, and no man maye doughte 
 thereof. 
 
 PHIL: Then the thynges that do vary and dyffer, be no goodes. 
 But when they haue begonne to be al one thynge then they be 
 goodes. Do it not happen that these thynges be good by adop- 
 tion or optaynyng of vnitie ? 
 
 BOE: So I saye it semeth. PHIL: Butalthat is good.grauntest 
 thou to be good by perticipation or partakyng, or not ? BOE: It 
 is so. PHIL: Then thou muste nedes graunt bylyke reason, that 
 one and good, be all one thynge. For there is but onesubstaunce 
 of such thynges, whose effecte is not naturally dyuers. 
 
 BOE: I saye I cannot denye it. P: Hast thou not knowen 
 the that euery thing that is, do so longe remayne and dwel 
 together, as long as it is all one ? And when it cessethe and is 
 
 73 
 
riot all one that then it dyeth and dyssolueth together? BOE: 
 By what meanes ? Philo: As in beastes, when the soule or lyfe 
 and the body, do ioyne together in one, and so remayn and dwel, 
 it is called a beast. And when y vnitie of them both is dissolued 
 by seperacion of the one from the other then it appereth that it 
 dyeth and is no longer a beste. And lykewyse the body of 
 mankynde, when it remayneth in one forme by coniunction or 
 ioynynge together of the mebers or lymmes, the fygure of man 
 is sene, but yf the partes of the bodye (beynge distributed and 
 seperated one from another) haue distroyed the vnitie, the body 
 is not as it was before. And whosoeuer woulde serche other 
 thynges, after the same maner it wyl appere, y euery thyng wyl 
 remayn in his proper substaunce whyle it is all one. And when 
 it is no more all one, it dyeth. B: When I consyder w my self 
 many thynges, yet it semeth that it is none other thyng, then 
 thou hast saide. PHI: Therfore is there any thyng, that (in 
 as moche as it worketh naturally) leueth the appetyte and desyre 
 of beynge, or of substaunce, and desyreth to come to death and 
 corruption? Bo: If I consyder the beastes that haue any nature 
 to wyll or not to wyll : I fynde nothing (excepte it be compelled 
 by outwarde vyolence) that forsaketh the intente or desyre to 
 lyue, and hastyth of fre wyll to dye. For euery beaste labourethe 
 to defende and kepe his lyfe and to eschew deathe and distrac- 
 tion. But I dought muche what I maye iudge of herbes, and 
 trees, and of such things that haue no lyuynge soules, nor felynge 
 at al as bestes haue. PHIL: Certes thereof thou mayst not dout, 
 when thou lokeste on the hearbes and trees, howe they do growe, 
 and flowryshe in places, conuenient for them, wher they cannot 
 lightly wyther nor drye so longe as theyr nature may kepe them. 
 For some of them do growe and sprynge in the feldes, other in 
 the mountaynes, other in the marish, and other do cleue to the 
 rockes or stones, some be grosse and plentyful some be lene and 
 baren, whych would drye awaye yf a man go aboute to conuey 
 the into any other places then such they be in al readie. For 
 nature geueth to euerye thinge, that thynge that is conuenient, 
 and laboureth to lyue and not to die, whiles they may haue 
 strengthe to contynue. What shall I saye that they all do take 
 there noryshynge from their rotes, as thoughe they had mouthes 
 fastened in the earthe, and spredeth their nourishyng by the 
 pyth, by the wod and by the barke ? And what wylt thou saye : 
 
 79 
 
that the softest thynge suche as the pyth of tre is, in the myddest, 
 is defended wyth a certayne hardnes of the wode, and the barke 
 is sette vttermoste of all, agaynst the intemperaunce of the ayer, 
 as a defender to sustayne the hurt that may fal ? And thus thou 
 mayst see howe greate is the dyligence of nature, for al thinges 
 be renued with multiplication of sede, whiche sedes who doth 
 not know but that they be as certayne instrumentes not onelye to 
 tary for a tyme, but also to remayne for euer, by generation or 
 successyon. And also the thyngs that men do think haue no 
 soules, do not euery of them desyre (by lyke reson) to kepe that 
 is hys owne ? wherfore els doth lightnes bere vpward the flames 
 of the fyer, and grauitie or heuynes presse downe the erth but 
 that the same places and mouings do best agre so, for euery of 
 them. And farthermore euery thyng, kepethe that thynge, that 
 is agreyng and according to it, ryght as the thynges that be 
 contrarye, corrupteth and dystroyeth it. 
 
 Nowe truely the thynges that be hard as stones, do cleue so 
 fast together, to theyr partes and defend them self, that they maye 
 not be easylye deuided or broken a sonder. But veryly, the 
 thynges that be soft and lyquyd, as the ayer and the water, do 
 lyghtly geue place to any thyng that deuydeth them, but yet 
 they do quyckely come together and ioygne vnto the partes, 
 from the whyche they be deuyded. But the fyre wyll in noo 
 wyse deuyded, but refuseth all dyuisyon. And I do not speke 
 nowe of the voluntarye mouynges of the soule, that hath know- 
 ledge, but of the natural intencion of thynges, euen as it is that 
 we do digest meates, that we haue eten without thynkyng thereon 
 howe it is digested and as we do take wynde and breathe in slepe, 
 not knowyng thereof. For certes, the loue in beastes to tary, or 
 lyue, commeth not of the wyll of the soule, but of the be- 
 gynnynges and instyncte workes of nature. For certes the wyll 
 often tymes embraseth death, when that causes copelleth the 
 same, whiche death nature feareth. And contrarywyse, other 
 whyles the wyll compelleth vnto the thyng, that nature alwaies 
 desireth, that is the worke of generacion, wherby onelye the 
 contynuaunce of mortall thynges, endureth. And this loue or 
 appetyte that euerye thynge hathe to it selfe, procedeth not, nor 
 cometh of the mocion of the soule : but by naturall intencion. 
 For the prouydence, or wysdom of God, hath giuen vnto thynges 
 that he hath creat this, that is to saye : a great cause to con- 
 
 80 
 
tynewe styll, in as moche as they desyre naturally to lyue as longe 
 as they may. Wherfore there is nothynge that thou nedest to 
 doubte in any maner, for all thynges that be : desyreth naturally 
 stedfast dwellyngs, and to eschewe distraction. BOE: I confesse 
 that I do se nowe without any doubte, the thynges that of late, 
 semed vncertayne vnto me. Phy: Certes, the thynge that de- 
 syreth to be and remayne alwaies, desyreth to be one and not 
 dyuers. For yf that one, were taken away and dystroyed : certes 
 there shulde remayne no beynge to any thynge. 
 
 BOECIUS: I saye, it is trewe. PHI: Therfore al thinges 
 desyreth one. Boe: I haue graunted. 
 
 Phy: Then I haue shewed that the same one thinge, is the 
 thing that is good. Bo: Ye truly. 
 
 PHY: Then all thynges desyreth good, and that thou mayst 
 descrybe and decerne thus, the same good is the thinge that is 
 desyred of all men. 
 
 Boe: I saye nothyng maye be thought more true, for either al 
 thyngs be brought to nothing and do wander withoute a gouernour 
 or gyde destitute and spoyled of one, as of their head and 
 beginning, or if there be any thinge wherevnto all thynges, 
 draweth, that thynge is the soueraign of al goodes. 
 
 Phi: O my norished child I am glad of the, for thou hast 
 fastened in thy mynde, and thought, the verye marke of perfette 
 truthe, but in thys it appereth to the that thou saydist a lytel 
 before that thou diddest not knowe, or were ignorant. 
 
 Boe: What is it? Phil: Certes thou saidest thou wist not 
 what was the ende of all thinges : surely the same ende is the 
 thyng that is desired of all men. 
 
 And forasmuch as we haue gathered that good is the thynge 
 that is desired of all, it behoueth that we confesse and agree that 
 good is the ende of all thinges. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Whoseuer seketh out the trueth with a profound mynde or Trew vnsta- 
 thought, and coueteth to be compassed or deceyued with no false f^ "^ ls d m 
 opynyons, let hym reuolue and thynke in hym selfe, the lyght of aithoughe it 
 his inwarde syght, which is reson, and let hym turne againe the d ^.™* £ y the 
 lonsre mouinges and operacions of the soule turning them into a affectes of the 
 
 111 ii- i 111 body, so longe 
 
 circle, or compasse, and let hym teche his mynde and thoughte, as they both 
 
 8i M 
 
be ioyned 
 together, but 
 when the 
 bodye is dede 
 the mind or 
 soule knoweth 
 al thynges 
 without anye 
 let. Lyke as 
 a candell 
 lyghte vnder a 
 bushel can not 
 lyghte any 
 ferther the the 
 busshel but 
 when the 
 busshell is 
 taken away 
 then the lyght 
 of the cadell 
 lighteth al 
 aboute. 
 
 Memorye 
 and vnder- 
 standyng be 
 the treasures 
 of the soule or 
 mind. 
 
 (after that it is retournyd, to his owne tresures or power) to 
 holde all that he hathe laboured for, outwardlye, and then the 
 thyng that the blacke cloude of ignoraunce hath hydde, shal 
 appere more euident and clere then the sonne. 
 
 For the bodye (brynginge in the wayt of obliuion or forget- 
 fulnes) hath not put out of the mynde, all the lyghte of know- 
 ledge. For the sede of trweth that is styrred by the wynd of 
 doctryne cleueth fast inwardely, to the mynde or thought. For 
 els why do you iudge of your owne voluntarye mynde, things 
 ryght to a man that doth aske you any thynge, excepte the 
 noryshynge and grounde of ryght or reson lay hidde in your 
 depe hart thought or mynde. And if the muse or wysedome of 
 Plato soundeth truth, euery forgetfull man recordeth the thing 
 that he lerned before. The meanynge is this. He that wyll 
 knowe the truthe let hym ioyne his reson of the inwarde mynde 
 to the outewarde thinge, and let hym reuolue by deliberation the 
 thyng that he hath conceyued, whether it be ryght or wrong, 
 and then the reson that contaynethe in it supernaturally the rote 
 of truth, shal open the same truthe of the outewarde thinge. 
 For Plato sayth, that mannes soule knoweth all thynges, but the 
 bodye causeth it to forgette, and by studye and exercyse it 
 commeth to perfyte knowledge agayne, and sayeth also that to 
 knowe is nothyng els, but to remember a thyng that was forgotten 
 which was knowen before, and saith also that the effectes of the 
 bodye blyndethe the soule. 
 
 The thynges 
 y' were re- 
 membred the 
 secod time 
 were that god 
 is the ende of 
 all thynges 
 and soueraign 
 good whyche 
 were forgotte 
 by the darknes 
 and affectes 
 or desire of the 
 bodye. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 The said I, I graunt wel vnto Plato. For thou remembrest 
 me the secod tyme of these thyngs. Fyrst y u remembrest me 
 that I lost my memory, by the contagious coniunction of the 
 body and soule. And afterwarde when I was oppressed wyth 
 the bourden of my dolour and sorowe. PHIL: If thou beholde 
 the thynges before graunted, it shall not be farre of but thou 
 shalt remembre the thyng that thou of late diddest confesse, 
 that thou knewest not. Boetius. What thinge was that ? 
 
 PHYLOSOPHY. By what gouernemente the worlde is gouerned. 
 BOECIUS. I remember well that I confessed that I knewe it 
 not, but althoughe I se now what thou purposeste, yet I desyre 
 to here it more plainely of the. 
 
 82 
 
Phil: Thou thoughtest it no doughte, a lytle before that this 
 worlde is gouerned by God. 
 
 Boe: Certes I thynke it no dought nor neuer wyll, and I wil 
 shew the shortly by what resones I am brought to it. Thys Ordynary 
 worlde colde neuer be brought into one forme of soo dvuers m , ou y n ges be 
 
 tik( r- n for 
 
 contrarye partes, excepte that there were one that ioyned goyngofthe 
 together such dyuers thynges. And the same dyuersitie of f^'eoTfrom 
 nature so varieng one from another woulde seperate and deuyde places whs he 
 a sunder, the thynges that be ioyned together, except ther were Sed'cirde 
 one that held together the thing that he hath knyt together. and also the 
 And the order of nature, shoulde not go fourth, so certainely, nor ni'ghta'nV y 
 shewe so ordinary mouinges, in places, times, effect spaces, and t da ^ i°™ e som 
 qualities, except ther were one that remayned alwayes stedefast, tyme short. 
 and dysposed and ordryd the same varieties and chaunges of fofthVebbyng 
 thyngs. And the same one whatsoeuer it be whereby al thynges and fl°wynge, 
 that be made, do remayne and be moued, I call God by a Space iTtaks 
 name that is commenly vsed of al folke. Phil: Then whyles fc £ th t e . 
 thou art of that opinio, I think I haue lytle els to do, but that or farre of. 
 thou beinge sure of felycytye and blessednes, mayst go se thy ukenffo r be ' 
 countraye safe and sound. But let vs beholde the thynges that heat > ' colde > 
 we purposed before. Haue I not nombred suffysaunce in felycitie moyste" d 
 and blessednes ? And haue we not agreed that the same felicitie 
 and blessednes is God ? 
 
 BOE: It is euen soo. PHIL: And that he shall nede no out- 
 ward help to gouerne the worlde ? For yf he shoulde nede, he 
 shoulde not haue full suffysaunce. BOE: It must nedes be so. 
 Phil: Then he alone orderethe al thynges. Boe: It may not 
 be denyed. Phil: And that God is declared to be the same 
 soueraygne good. Boe: I do wel remember it. Phil: Then 
 he dysposeth all thyngs by the same good. And if he who we 
 haue agreed to be good, do rule al thynges, alone by hymselfe 
 then is he as a certaine key and sterne wherby the whole worlde 
 is kept stedefast and withoute corruption. BOE: I say I agre 
 fyrmely thereto, and I sawe a lytle before (that thou were aboute 
 to saye so) althoughe it were by a sclender suspycion or imagy- 
 nacion. Phi: I do beleue, and certes I do thynke thou ledest 
 nowe thy eyes more stedefastlye to beholde the truthe then 
 before. But yet the thynge that I shall say, appereth no lesse to 
 be bolde. BOE: I say what is that ? Phil: When it is beleued 
 fully and truly that God gouerneth all thynges wyth the keye of 
 
 83 
 
his goodnes, and that all the same thinges that I haue taught, do 
 make haste by naturall intencion to come to good, maye it be 
 doughted but they be gouerned wyllyngly? And do turne 
 them self of ther fre wyl at the commaundement of there 
 gouernor as thynges conuenyent and obeying there gouernoure ? 
 Boe: I saye it muste nedes be soo, and that rule of God shoulde 
 not seme blessed, yf there shoulde be a yoke of vnruly thinges 
 that draweth peruersly backwarde, or stubbournelye, and no corn- 
 forte of obedyent thynges, submytting them selfe to good order. 
 Phylo: Then there is nothynge (that kepeth his own nature) 
 labourethe to resyste or go agaynste God. Boe: It is trewe. 
 
 PHY: What and yf any thynge dyd laboure agaynste God, 
 myght it any thynge auayle, at laste agaynst hym, whom we 
 haue graunted to be almyghtie by ryght of blyssednes ? 
 BOE: I say it could nothyng auayle him at all. 
 PHY: Then is there nothyng that eyther wyll, or maye resyste 
 this soueraygne good ? 
 
 BOE: I saye, I thynke not that any thynge maye resyst God. 
 PHY: Then it is the same soueraygne good, that ruleth all 
 thynges stronglye and dysposeth them gently. BOE: I say, the 
 same wordes that thou vsyste, do moche more delyght me, then 
 the effect and ende of the reasons, that thou hast concluded, so 
 that we fooles (that do reprehende and rebuke some tyme great 
 thynges that toucheth goddes myghtie work) may be at the last 
 ashamed of our folysshenes, as I that sayde a lytell before, that 
 God refuseth the workes of men, and nothyng medleth therwith. 
 PHY: Thou haste harde in fables, that gyauntes haue ben aboute 
 to assaute heauen, but the gentle strength of God, hath deposed 
 and dystroyed them, as it was mete and worthy, but wylte thou 
 that we knit togither the same resons ? Perchaunce of suche 
 conference, or dysputacion, some goodly sparke of trueth may 
 procede and appere. BoE: Do at your pleasure. Phy: No 
 ma doughteth that God is omnipotent ? 
 
 BOE: No man doughteth it, that is in his ryght mynd. PHY: 
 Then he that is almyghtie, can do althynges. BOE: It is trewe. 
 PHY: May God do any euyll ? BOE: No, truelye. 
 
 PHIL. Then euyll is nothinge when that he cannot doo it that 
 canne do all thynges. BOE: I saye doest thou mocke me 
 weyuynge or knyttynge together a meruaylous subtyle laborinth 
 by thy reasons, that haue no ende lyke a rounde compas, by the 
 
 84 
 
whych subtill resons, thou goeste oute where thou dyddeste enter, Laborinthus, 
 and where thou diddest enter or goo in, thou goeste oute ? And j? j* ° gy b ™ a u e 
 thou foldyst together maruaylous compassyng rounde resons of dores, or 
 the symple or pure dyuinitie. For a lytel before thou be- ma being in, 
 gynnyng at blessednes saydeste that the same was soueraygne could not gette 
 good, which blessednes thou saydest was set in God. And also he thought to 
 thou saydest that God was soueraygne good and full of felycitie, ^ en °^ e It 
 or blessednes, wherby thou dyddest proue as a corrolarye, or was made h y 
 conclusion that no man was blessed but God. And thou saydest f or a pr yson,' 
 also that the forme of good, is the substaunce of God, and toweryesuch 
 
 as laboure to 
 
 of blessednes. And thou saidest that the same one thynge was gette out of y e 
 the same good thyng, that was desyred by nature of all thynges. same " 
 And thou dyddeste proue that God ruleth all thynges by the Compassynge 
 
 resons be 
 
 gouernaunces of hys bountiousnes, and that al thynges obeyeth such, that they 
 hym, howe vyolent soeuer they be, and thou saydeste that there depende, one 
 
 J J J J vpo another, 
 
 is no nature of euyll. And thou dyddeste proue these thynges so that a pro- 
 by no outewarde reasons, but by proues takynge aucthoritie one cluded n in°one 
 thynge of another, and by inwarde and proper or famylyer pro- reason, is the 
 bation. Phi : Then I do not mocke saieth philosophy, but ff n e other 
 I haue shewed the, the gretest thing of all by the gyft of God, conclusyon. 
 whome of late we prayed vnto. 
 
 For certes suche is the forme of the diuine substaunce, that it 
 falleth and slydethe not into outward or straunge thynges 
 nor receyueth any outward or straung thynge into it selfe, 
 but as the phylosopher Permenides saith of the substaiice 
 of God. Thou ledest all the multitude of thynges in a 
 cyrcle, that is to saye : the deuyne substaunce turnyth the 
 mouynge worlde of thynges round lyke a compas whiles that the 
 same substauce kepeth it selfe stedfast and immouable. And if 
 I haue stirred resons, not taken from without, but set within the 
 compas of the thynge that we treate of, there is nothynge that 
 thou shouldeste meruaile at since thou hast lerned with Plato Euerye talke 
 (saying) that the words ought to be conuenient and agreing to °cf ordy ° ng e to 
 the thinges, whereof they be spoken, or whereof men do speke. ^,™ a "" ( 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Happye or blessed is he that maye se the shynynge foun- 
 tayne, or well of good, that is to say, God. And happye is he 
 that maye vnbynde the bandes of the heuy earth, that is to say 
 the bandes of worldly thynges. The wise Orpheus of Trace 
 
 8 S 
 
 that is talked. 
 
Orpheus was a that somtyme was sory for the death of his wife after that he 
 played most ^ad cause d (with hys weping and dolorous songes) the renning 
 swetely, as the waters to stand styll and the wodes to moue. And after that 
 fayne, and his he had caused the hartes to ioyne their sedes to the cruell lyons 
 wyfe was withoute feare, to herken vnto his songe. And thereby had also 
 
 named Eury- ° . 
 
 dycen, whiche made that the hare feryd not the sighte of the dogge being so 
 
 dyed v P°n rt» e we ll pleased with hys swete songe and his harpe. And when 
 
 a serpent, as the brennyng loue, that he bare to hys wyfe broyled the inward 
 
 rnedo 6 from^ partes, of his brest, or harte. And when that these swete songes 
 
 sheperdnamed that hadde ouercomen al other thynges, could not comfort there 
 
 Aristeus that 
 
 pursued her to mayster Orpheus. He complaynynge vpon the cruell goddes, 
 deflower her, wen t e to the houses of hell, and there he tempering his melodious 
 
 and she wente ' r ° 
 
 to hell, after soges, wyth y swete sounding stringes of his harp syngeth 
 
 L^hePoetes' mourningly al that he had taken and drawe out of the cheyfe 
 
 do fayne. fountaynes of his mother the goddes Caliope ; And he sange as 
 
 muche as he coulde for wepyng, and as much as loue (that 
 
 doubled hys sorow) would permyt and suffer hym. And 
 
 pitiouslye moued hell. And instantly desyred the lordes in- 
 
 fernall with his swet and humble prayer to haue restitution of 
 
 his wyfe agayne. The porter of hel, called Cerbarus, with his 
 
 three hedes, beyng ouercome with that new melodye wondred 
 
 greatlye. And the goddes infernall reuengers of synnes whyche 
 
 do ver and torment synners with fear, being sory for Orpheus, 
 
 Xion is tur- wept for pitie of hym at the swet sound of the harpe. Then the 
 
 with'f tu n r- heU turnynge whele dyd not cast downe the heade of Xion. Then 
 
 nynge whele, Tantalus (that was almooste consumed, with longe thryste for 
 
 came al lacke of drynke) regarded not the waters, to drynke. Then the 
 
 gyautes, suche grype called Vulter, whiles he was full of the melodye of 
 
 is the fable. * , , r r 
 
 Tantalus is Orpheus, cessed tyryng and rendyng of the maw of a man 
 
 standeth in called Tycii. And at laste the iudge or lorde of soules infernall 
 
 water to the (hauynge compassyon) sayd, we be ouercome, let us geue vnto 
 
 hathAppIes Orpheus hys wyfe to beare hym companye that he hath well 
 
 hangyng at his bought with his song. But a lawe or condition, shall restrayne 
 
 mouthe, and & , . & , . ,..,.,,, 
 
 yet is redy to our gyfte, that is to saye : vpon this condicion, so that it shall 
 mea'te 'and 6 ° f not ^ e l awe f u ^ f° r n y m ledyng awaye hys wyfe, to turne his 
 drynke. eyes and loke backe vpon her vntill he be out of hell, for if he 
 
 mentedwitha doe, his wyfe shal returne vnto us againe. But who maye geue 
 Grype, euer a lawe to louers, that is to saye : loue ought not to be con- 
 
 terynge and . . ° 
 
 fretyng his strayned by lawe. For loue is a greater lawe to it selfe than can 
 maw or lyuer. ^ e m ade by man. Alas when Orpheus and his wyfe were nye 
 
 86 
 
the endes of the nyght, that is to saye, nye the ende or entry 
 out of hell, he lokynge backe vpon Euridicen his wife lost her, 
 and kylled her, in leuyng her behynde in hell, for brekyng of 
 the condicion aforesayde commaunded by the iudge infernall. 
 Ye, whatsoeuer you be, that do seke to lede your soules vnto 
 euerlastyng lyfe or blesse, this fable appertayneth to you. 
 
 For whosoeuer beynge ouercome wyth the desyre of worldly 
 thynges, doo turne theyr eyes of reson, and vnderstandyng from 
 heuenly thinges to the caue or pit of hel: whatsoeuer good 
 thyng he getteth by his labours in vertue and godly contempla- 
 cion at anye tyme, by lokynge backe (that is to saye by the 
 loue and desyre of temporall and worldly thinges) he loseth it 
 agayne. 
 
 Here endeth the thyrd boke. 
 
 87 
 
THE FOURTH BOOKE. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 "HEN Phylosophye (after that she hade kept the re- 
 uerence, of her countenaunce and grauitie of her 
 spekyng) had songe these thynges softly and swetely. 
 Then I (that had not vtterly forgotten my inwarde 
 gryfe and sorowe) dyd interrupte her intent and purpose beyng 
 yet redy to speke some other thyng. And I sayd : O thou gyde 
 and leder of the very true lyght or knoledge, euen the same 
 thinges that thy owne wordes haue spoken hetherto, haue 
 appered vnto me inuincible, aswell for there deuine speculacion 
 as for thy resons. And the same very thinges that thou 
 shewedst me, althoughe I had forgotten them for sorow of the 
 wronge that was done to me, yet for all that they were not vnto 
 me vtterly unknowen. But thys is the cheifeste cause of my 
 greyfe and sorowe, that where as the ruler of all thynges is good, 
 why be there any euiles, or why do euiles passe vnponyshed ? 
 Whyche thynge alone well consydered, howe much is it worthy 
 to be meruayled at ? But yet ther is another greater thyng to 
 be ioyned to thys, moreouer to be meruayled at. For whiles 
 that wickednes ruleth and fiourysheth, vertue is not only vnre- 
 warded, but also subiect and troden vnder the fete of the wicked 
 and is ponyshed in stede of wicked offenders, whych thynges to be 
 suffered in the kyngdom of God that knoweth all thynges, able 
 to do al thinges, and willyng to do onely good thynges, no 
 man maye thereat nether meruayle ynoughe, nor complayne 
 ynoughe. 
 
 Phi: It shoulde be a greate infynite wonder and more 
 horrible then all the monsters of the world, if it were so as thou 
 takest it, that euyl men should be worshypped and that good 
 men shuld be vyle or nothyng estemed in the well ordred 
 
 88 
 
house of suche a father of the howshold, but it is not so. 
 
 For if those thynges that be concluded a lytell before, be kepte 
 
 hole or vnbroken, thou shalt knowe (the same God of whose 
 
 kyngedome now I speake, beynge the aucthor) that good me be 
 
 alwais mightye, and euyll men always abiect and vnmyghty or 
 
 weke, and that vyces be neuer vnponyshed, nor vertue vnre- 
 
 warded, and that felicitie and blessednes happeth to good folke, 
 
 and myschaunces to wycked folke. And thou shalte knowe 
 
 manye thynges of thys kynd which may strengthen the with 
 
 stedfaste sadnes, when thou haste put awaye thy complayntes, 
 
 agaynst euill fortune. And for by cause thou haste sene the 
 
 fourme of true blessednes or felycitie, as I of late haue shewed 
 
 the, and that thou haste knowen wherein it is set, all thynges 
 
 omytted and ouerpassed that I thynke mete to omit and passe As a byrde by 
 
 ouer, I wyll shewe vnto the, the waye that maye brynge the fly^ ;„" 
 
 home, to the knowledge of true blessednes and felicitie. And I height, and 
 
 • i nseth vp, so 
 
 wyll fasten fethers or resones in thy mynde, wherby it may ryse by vertue 
 vp in helth, so that after thou hast cast awaye all trouble of ^sdonTthe 
 worldly and temporall thynges, thou mayst reuert and turne into souie, or 
 thy countrye safe and sounde, by my leding, by my path way and ^setrTinto'the 
 
 by my Steppes. contemplation 
 
 ' of good wniche 
 
 is God. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Certes I haue swyft fethers that is to say : vertue and wyse- 
 dome, that ascendeth vnto the hygh heuen. Whyche fethers 
 when a swyfte mynde hath put on, it being disdainefull, dispiseth 
 all earthly thynges and surmounteth the globe, that is to say : 
 the grete body of the airy element, and seyth the cloudes be- 
 hynde hys backe, and passeth the toppe of the fyery elemente 
 that waxethe hote by the swyfte mouinge of the firmament, 
 vntyll it resyste into the houses or places of the sterres, and 
 ioyneth her wayes wyth the sonne, or foloweth the iourney of the 
 colde old man, that is to say, of the Planet Saturn e. And the 
 sayde mind beyng a knyght of the shynynge sterre that is to 
 say, of God by seking of truth that ledeth men vnto the true 
 knowledge of God, passethe the circle of the sterres, that is to 
 saye, of the sterry heuen, in all places, where as the shynynge 
 nyght is paynted with sterres, and when the mynde hath bene 
 dryed vp as voyde of the thynge that it seketh, whiche is God : 
 
 89 N 
 
Then it passeth higher vntyll it leueth the higher and vpper- 
 mooste heuen or fyrmament. And presseth downe the backes 
 of the swyfte ayry firmamente, optaynynge myght of the re- 
 uerend lyght, that is to saye : of God. There, that is to saye : 
 beyonde the hyest firmament, the lorde of kynges holdeth his 
 scepter, that is to saye : his empire, and temperith the rules or 
 gouernementes of the whole worlde. And he beynge the shynynge 
 iudge of thinges, alwayes firme and stedfaste, in hymselfe, ruleth 
 We haue no the swifte carte, that is to saye : the mouynge rounde compas of 
 
 contynnuall ' J jo r 
 
 dweiiynge in the heuenly bodies. O thou mynde of mankynde, yf the waye 
 
 but S in°heau'en that nowe thou beyng forgetful of, doest seke for, would bryng 
 
 from whense the thither, that is to saye : vnto the knoledge of God, after thou 
 
 came that God hast forsaken all worldly thynges, thou wouldest saye vnto me I 
 
 created. ^ remember this is my coutraye, here was I borne, here wyll I 
 
 fasten my steppe, that is to saye here wyll I rest. But yf thou 
 
 list to loke vpon the darkenes of the earth that thou hast left 
 
 behynde, that is to say : worldly thynges. Then thou shalte see 
 
 these cruell tyrauntes, that is to saye : cruell prynces whome the 
 
 symple and wretched people do fear, to be as men banished from 
 
 the sayd countrey of God. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 Then when Phylosophy had ended her tale, I sayde. O Phylo- 
 sophy thou promisest gret thinges and I dought not but thou 
 mayst perfourme them. And I praye the tarye not but tell me 
 now, seing thou haste styrryd me to here. Phi: Fyrst it be- 
 houeth the to knowe that good men be myghty, and wycked men 
 be alwaies vnmyghtye and weke of all strength, of the whych the 
 one is shewed by the other. For when that good and euyll be 
 thynges contrary, yf good appereth to be myghty and stronge, 
 then the wekenes of the euill is manifest. And when the frayltie 
 of euyll shewethe it selfe, then the stedefastnes of good is per- 
 ceyued. But to thintent that more credite shoulde be geuen 
 to my saying, I will procede by both wayes (confyrmynge the 
 thynges that be proposed) now on the one parte, and nowe on 
 thother parte. There be two thynges or pryncyples, wherin 
 standeth theffect of all menes actes and dedes, that is to saye : 
 wyl, and power. Of the whych if eyther of them fayle, there is 
 nothynge that can be done. For if that wyl fayleth none effect is 
 
 90 
 
done. For no manne taketh in hand to doo the thynge that he 
 
 will not do. And if power be away wyll is in vayne or voyde, 
 
 whereby it commeth to passe that yf thou see anye man that 
 
 would obtayne, that he cannot get, thou mayst not dought, but he 
 
 wanteth power, to haue that he wold haue. BOE: It is verye clere 
 
 and maye not be doughted in any maner. PHIL: Truelye yf 
 
 thou se anye man to haue done that he woulde doo, doughest 
 
 thou that he lacked power to do it. Boe: No. Phil: Than that 
 
 thing that a man maye doo, in that thynge, he is myghtye, and 
 
 in that thynge that he cannot do, he is to be iudged vnmyghtye 
 
 and weke. Boe: I saye I confesse the same. PHIL: Remembrest 
 
 thou by the former resones, that it is gathered or concluded, that 
 
 al thentent of mans wyll maketh hast or tendeth vnto felicitie 
 
 or blessednes, whyche is ledde by dyuers studies or wayes. Boe: 
 
 I saye I do remember that the same was so shewed and declared 
 
 before. Phy: And doest thou remember that the same felycitie 
 
 or blessednes is the same good, and after the same maner desyred, 
 
 of all men when felicitie is requyred? BOE: I saye I doo not Torecorde, is 
 
 recorde it, for I holde it fired in my mynd or memory. Phil: Then rememifraunce 
 
 all men both good and also euyll doo laboure to come to good, a thynge that 
 
 without any difference of intent. Boe: I say the same, it is a 
 
 very consequence. Phi: Then it is certayne that men be made 
 
 good by adoption or optaynynge of good. Boe: It is true. 
 
 Phil: Then good men do optayne the thynge that they do desyre. 
 
 Boe: So it semeth. Phil: Then truely if euel men should get 
 
 and obtayne the good that they do desyre they myght not be 
 
 euil. BOE: It is euen so. Phil: Then when that both the good 
 
 and the euyll folke desyreth good, yf the good folke obtayneth 
 
 the good and the euil folke do not, Is it nowe anye doughte but 
 
 that the good folke be myghty, and the euill folke weke and vn- 
 
 myghtye ? BOE: I saye whosoeuer doughteth of thys, cannot 
 
 consyder the nature of thyngs, nor the consequence of reson. 
 
 Ph: And farther if there be two that haue one naturall pur- 
 pose or intent, and the one of them worketh and perfourmethe 
 the same thynge by offyce of nature or naturallye, and the other 
 may not do the same by naturall offyce, or naturallye, but folow- 
 ethhym that perfourmeth the offyce naturallye, but yet by a nother 
 wayes, or meane, then is conueniente for nature, and dooeth not 
 fulfyll or perfourme the purpose, whych of these two iudgest thou 
 to be mooste myghtye ? BOECIUS. Althoughe I do coniecture 
 
 91 
 
what thou wouldeste saye, yet I desyre to heare it moore fullye 
 of the. 
 
 Phil: Then, wilt thou denye that the mouing to walke or go 
 is in men by nature, or that it is not naturall ? BOE: I do saye 
 I do not denye it. Philo: Then, doughtest thou that the acte of 
 going is the naturall offyce of the fete ? BoE: I saye I dought it 
 not. Phil: Then if a man beynge myghtye to go vpon his fete 
 walketh, another that lacketh the naturall offyce of hys fete 
 laboureth to go vpon his handes, which of these may iustelye be 
 iudged more strong or myghtye. BOE: I saye procede in thy 
 other sayinges, for noo man doughteth but that he that maye go 
 by naturall offyce of hys fete, is stronger, then he that maye not do 
 the same. Phil: Euen soo the soueraygne good before spoken 
 of is shewed indifferently, as wel vnto the euyll folke as to the 
 good folke, but the good doo optayne it by the naturall offyce of 
 vertue, and the wycked folke do enforce themselfe to get it by 
 sundry couytous desyres of temporall and worldly thinges, whyche 
 is not the naturall offyce or meane to obteyne good. Doist thou 
 thynke it otherwyse ? BOE: No truely for the thyng, that is the 
 consequence is manyfest, And of these thinges that I haue 
 graunted, it is necessarye, that good folke be myghtye and euyll 
 folke vnmyghtye and weake. Phil: Thou sayest right, and it is 
 a sygne or iudgement that nature is recouered in the and resisteth 
 the dyssease, as the phisicions be wonte to hope of the paciente 
 and sycke folke. But for by cause I see the redy to vnderstand, 
 I shall shewe the diuers and many sundry reasons. For see howe 
 gretely the wekenes of wycked and euyll folke appereth that 
 cannot attayne vnto the thynge that ther natural intencyon 
 ledeth, and in a maner almost compelleth the. And what yf that 
 the same wycked folke shoulde lacke this so grete and al most 
 inuyncible helpe of nature. Consider also how lytle power the 
 wycked folke hath, for they seke not lyght and vayne rewardes, 
 whych they can not folowe and obtayne. But they fayle and 
 cannot attayne the cheyfest and hyest thynges that is to saye 
 soueraygne good, nor these wycked wretches, can gette the effecte 
 of soueraygne good, whyche they go aboute onely to obtayne 
 night and daye, wherin the myghte of good folke doth appere. 
 
 For certis, as thou woldest iudge hym moste myghtie and 
 stronge in goynge, that may come to the place in going on his 
 feet, beyonde the which place there lyeth no way farther to go : 
 
 92 
 
euen so it behoueth that thou do iudge hym, moste stronge and 
 myghtie, that optayneth the end of al thynges that be to be 
 desired, beyonde whiche ende, there is nothyng : whych ende, 
 good folke doe optayne, whereby it foloweth that ther is a thyng 
 contrary to this, that is to saye : that these wycked seme to be 
 desolate, naked, or voyd of all strength. But why do the wicked 
 folke folowe wyckednes and forsake vertue ? is it for that they 
 be ignoraunt of good thinges ? But what is more feble then the 
 blyndnes of ignoraunce ? Do the wycked know that good is to 
 be folowed ? ye truely, but that couitousnes, ouerthroweth them 
 being clene turnyd fro good. And they be also frayle by intem- 
 peraunce of vice, that cannot resist vyce, and whether they 
 (knowynge and wyllyng) do forsake the good and be turnyd 
 vnto vyces ? Ye truely, And by thys meanes they cesse not 
 onelye to be myghtye and stronge, but also they cesse vtterly to 
 be. For they that forsake the ende of al thynges that be, do 
 cesse also to be, or haue no beinge, whych thyng perchaunce 
 should seme to some man a meruayle, that I shuld say that 
 wycked folke (whyche be the most part of men) be not, or haue 
 no beynge. But it is euen soo. For they that be wycked (I 
 doo not denye) but that they be wycked, but I denye that they 
 be pure and symple. For as thou hast called a dede man a 
 Corpus or carkes, and maye not call. hym simply and purely a 
 man, euen soo haue I graunted that vicious and wicked folke be 
 wycked, but I cannot confesse that they be absolutely with out 
 any dyuersitie ias they were before they were vicious. For the 
 thinge that kepeth order, kepeth nature, and is styll as it was, 
 but the thing that varyeth from order and nature, forsaketh the 
 thyng that is set in his natur. But thou wilt say that wycked 
 folke may do things : Certes I wyll not deny, but that they 
 may do. But I say that their power, commeth not by strength, 
 but by wekenes. For they may doo euyll thynges which they 
 might not do if they might remayne in the workes of good 
 folke, And the same possybylitie or power of euyll folke, 
 shewethe euidentlye that they maye do ryght nought. For as I 
 haue gathered and proued a lytle before that euyll is nought or 
 nothyng, whe that the euyll folke may onely do euil, It appereth 
 a playne conclusion, that euyll folke may do ryght nought, and 
 hauenopowerormyghte. Boeti: It is playne soo. PHILO: Then, 
 that thou mayst vnderstand what is the strengthe of this power, 
 
 93 
 
that y wycked may do nought, I haue defyned and determyned 
 a lytel before that nothynge is more myghty then soueraygne 
 good. Boe: I saye it is so. Phil: But y same soueraygne 
 good can do no euyll. BOE: No forsoth. PHIL: Then is there 
 any man that thynketh that men can do all thynges. Boe: No 
 man so thinketh, except he be mad. PHIL: But yet wycked 
 folke may do euyll. Bo: I say would to God they coulde not. 
 Phil: Now then when that he that is myghtye in good thynges 
 may doo all thynges, but they that be myghtye in euyll 
 thynges, maye not do al things, It is manyfest that they that 
 may do euyl, may do lesse or be of lesse power. And soo it 
 commethe to passe to proue thys conclusion, that I haue shewed 
 before, that is, that all power is to be numbred emongest thynges 
 that are to be desyred. And all thynges y ought to be desired, 
 are referred vnto good, that is to say, vnto God, as vnto a 
 certayne perfection of theyr nature. But the power or possi- 
 bilytye to doo euyll, may not be referred vnto good, that is to 
 say, to God. 
 
 Therfore euyll is not to be desyred. But all power is to be 
 desyred. So therfore it appereth that the power of the wiked 
 folk, is no power. By all whyche thynges before sayde, it 
 appereth truely, that good folke be myghty, and the wycked 
 folke withoute any dought, be vnmyghtye and weake. And it 
 appereth that the same sentence or sayinge of Plato, is true, that 
 sayd, that wyse men onely might do the thing that they desyred 
 to doo. 
 
 And that wycked folke myght doo the thyng, that accordeth to 
 ther wycked pleasures, but they cannot fulfyll and do the thyng, 
 that they desyre, that is to say, they cannot obtayne soueraign 
 good, yet they do all thynges, whyles they do thynke to attayne 
 vnto the soueraygne good that they desyre, by those thynges 
 wherein they delite, but they cannot attayne therevnto. For 
 wyckednes cannot optayne and come vnto felicitie and 
 blessednes. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Who so myght take away the couerynge of the outward vaine 
 apparell of proud kynges, that thou seist do syt in the hye tope 
 of there pryncely chayres, shynynge with faire purple, and set 
 aboute with sorowfull armoure, thretenyng symple wretches 
 
 94 
 
with theyr cruell lokes and breathyng with cruell harte, he 
 should se such lordes or tyrauntes bere inwardly in ther mynde 
 strayte chaynes or bondes of wickednes. 
 
 For on the one parte lecherye casteth downe theyr hartes, 
 wyth her gredy venym or poiso, on the other part the ragyng 
 wrath or anger y stereth vppe the floudes of veracion, tor- 
 menteth theyr myndes. 
 
 Also sorowe and heuines werieth them when they be caught 
 or fallen into any mischaike or elles vayne slypperye hope 
 greueth them. Therefore when thou seyst one hed that is to say 
 one prynce suffersoo manypassions and trybulacions. Then doeth 
 not he the thynge that he desyreth, seyng y he is ouerthrowen w 
 so many wicked lords that is to sai : w so many vyces, y haue 
 rule ouer him. The meaning of thys myter is thys If that a 
 man myght se and perceyue with his corporall eyes, the inwarde 
 hartes and myndes of prynces, whom he seyth outwardlye 
 syttynge in their chayres of estate and maiestie garnysshed with 
 purple and glisteryng gold, hauyng grete power and aucthoritie, 
 in worldely and temporall thynges, yet he should wel vnderstand 
 that ther hartes were troubled with muche anger, hope, feare and 
 many other tribulacions and passions, so that they cannot do 
 that they would doo, whereby it appereth and it is a very con- 
 sequece that they be vnmyghtye and weke. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 Seist thou not than in howe greate fylth the wycked folke be The lecherous 
 wrapped, and with what clerenes the good folke do shyne. In ^ e °^ e J i e 
 whych thynge it is euydent and manyfest that good folke neuer more delitith 
 want reward, nor wicked folke neuer lacketh there ponyshmentes. t h e myre then 
 For of all thynges that be done, the thynge for the whych euery in , a faire fo " n " 
 thynge is done, the selfe same thynge, semethe wel to be the sprynge. 
 reward of the same thing. As yf a man do ren in a furlonge 
 space for a crowne, the crowne is y reward for the whych the 
 rennynge is. And in like maner I haue shewed before, that 
 felicitie or blessednes is the selfe same thynge; for the whycheall 
 thynges be done. Then is the same good, appoynted as a 
 common rewarde for mannes actes and dedes, whyche good, maye 
 not be seperated from good folke. And he shall not be called 
 ryghtfully good, that lacketh goodnes, wherefore men well 
 
 95 
 
manered and vertuous, neuer loseth their rewardes. Therefore 
 howe muche soeuer wycked folke waxe mad agaynste good 
 folke, yet for al that the wyse man shall neuer lose his crovvne 
 or reward, nor shal drye vp or dymynyshe. Nor another mans 
 wyckednes taketh not awaye the proper honoure frome good 
 folke. And yf good folke should reioyse of any outewarde 
 good that they haue receyued of anye other then of themselfes, 
 truly he that gaue them such goodnes, or some other person 
 myght take it from them. But for asmuch as to euery man his 
 owne proper goodnes is his rewarde then euery man shall lacke 
 his reward, when he cesseth, and is not good. Furthermore when 
 that all reward, therefore is desyred, bycause it is thought to be 
 good who would iudge'that he had noo rewarde, that is good ? 
 But what is the rewarde of good folke ? Truely the fairest and 
 gretest rewarde. But remember the same corrolarye or conclu- 
 syon that I gaue the as cheife a litle before, and vnderstand it 
 thus. When y sayd good is felicitie or blessednes, it appereth 
 that all good folke (in as muche as they be good) be made blessed 
 or happye. And it behoueth that they that be blessed, be goddes. 
 Therefore the rewarde of good folke: is to be made goddes, whiche 
 rewarde, no daye consumeth, no power dimnissheth, and no 
 wickednes defaceth. And synce it is thus that good folke neuer 
 fayle of reward, then a wyse man may not doughte of the con- 
 tynuall and inseperable payne of wycked folke. For when that 
 good and euyll, payne and rewarde, be contrarye one to another, 
 then the things that we se to happen as a rewarde of good, the 
 same thynges beyng contrarye must nedes be the ponyshmente 
 of the euyll folke. For as goodnes is the rewarde of good folke, 
 soo wyckednes is the ponyshmente of wicked folke. Nowe certes 
 whosoeuer is tormentid with ponyshment, there is no dought but 
 that he is tormented wyth euyll. 
 
 Therefore if the same euyll folke will esteme and praise them- 
 selfe, may they seme to be without ponishmet: which euyl folke 
 not onely extreme wyckednes of all euyll trobleth, but also cor- 
 rupted! vehemently. And se also of the contrarye part of the 
 good folke, what payne folowethe the wycked folke. For thou 
 hast lerned a litle before that euery thyng that is, is one. And 
 the same one, is good, so the consequence to the same is, that 
 euery thing that is certes the same semethe to be good. 
 
 Therefore by this meanes, what soeuer thynge fayleth and is 
 
 9 6 
 
not good, it cessyth to be, or it is not. Whereby it comethe 
 to passe that euyll folke cesseth to be the same that they were. 
 But the same other fourme of manes body sheweth yet that 
 wycked folke, haue bene men, and certes beyng turnyd into 
 malyce or wyckednes, they haue lost the nature of man. But 
 whe that goodnes onely may exalte euerye man aboue the nature 
 of men : It must nedes be, that wycked folke (whose wyckednes 
 hath cast them oute from the condicion of man) do put them 
 vnder the merite of man or cause them to be lesse estemed then 
 men. Therefore it happeth that if thou seist anye man turned 
 into vices or wickednes, thou mayst not thinke that he is a man. 
 If any man brenneth in couitous and is a violente extorcioner 
 or rauener of other mennes goodes, thou mayst saye that he is 
 lyke a woulfe. And if a man be cruel, and troubelous, and 
 exercyseth hys tounge with chydyng he may be lykened to a 
 dogge. Also he that is a pryuye Iyer in a waye, and reioyseth 
 to stele by craft and soteltie, he may be compared to yong foxes, 
 or yong coubbes. And a man that is distempryd, and wexeth 
 wode for anger, it semeth that he do beare the stomake of a 
 lyon. If a man be fearefull and fleynge, and feareth thynges 
 that he ought not to fere he is counted lyke vnto hertes. And 
 if a man be slow, astonyed and waxethe dull, he lyueth as an 
 asse. If a man be lyght inconstant and often chaungeth his There be two 
 mynd and thought, he differith no thynge from byrdes. knowtarem 
 
 And he that is drowned in foule and fylthy plesures, of lechery, man, one is 
 is wrapped in the delight of the fylthy sow or hogge. So then wherbywTbe 
 it foloweth, that he that forsaketh his goodnes, is no man. And made like vnto 
 
 it i 1 , r — , , S° d : the 0ther 
 
 when he cannot passe and turne into the condytyon of God, he is our sensys 
 
 is turnyd by his wycked condicions into a beste. thev obe^not 
 The wynde named Eurus droue y sayls of Ulixes duke of resonmakyth 
 
 Naryce and hys shippes wanderynge in the sea, to the He where beasts. 
 
 as the fayre goddes called Circes, daughter of the sonne is circis was a 
 
 dwellyng, that myngethe to her newe gestes drynkes that be ^° c ™auntment 
 
 towched or turnyd by wordes of enchauntment. And after that made drynkes 
 
 her hand beynge myghty and skylfull in herbes, hadde chaunged y t turned such 
 
 the felowes of Ulixes into dyuers figures of beastes, the one had a , s dra .nke 
 
 i • t r tnerof, into 
 
 the face of a bore, another was chaunged into a Lyon of Mar- dyuers formes 
 
 moryke, a coutrye so called, dyd growe with tethe and clawes °^ e ^g U e r g °f 
 
 like a Lion. Another was chauged into a woulf, and howled the body only, 
 
 in stede of wepyng. Another walked aboute the house, as meke m y n des were 
 
 97 o 
 
not chaunged, as a tigre of India. And although the power of Mercury, the 
 a"theywere God, whych is called the byrde of Archady, hauyng pytie vpon 
 before. the duke Ulixes, beyng compassed aboute with dyuers euylles, 
 
 hathe delyuered hym from the mischeif of his hostes Circes, yet 
 for all that, the rowers and maryners, hadde dronke the sayde 
 wycked drynke. And they beyng turned into swyne, had there 
 bread and meate, turnyd into acornes, and nothyng remayned 
 hole of the fygure of man, but they were all chaunged as wel in 
 voice as in bodye, sauyng that theyr mynde remayned as it was 
 first, vnchaunged and bewayled the monstrus chaunge of y body. 
 O light hand of the goddes Circes that chaungeth the bodyes 
 into the fourme of beastes, whyche is a smale thyng in respecte 
 of the chaung that is of the soule of man from vertue to vyce, by 
 misusyng of the body. 
 
 And the herbes of Circes, be but weake, whych although they 
 be able to chaiig the members of mans body, yet canne they not 
 turne mens harts or mindes, for there in, is hyd the strength of 
 men as it were in a secrete towre, that is to saye : the reason of 
 man is enclosed in hys wytte or mynde. But the cruell vyces 
 or synnes draweth menne vnto them more strongly, then the 
 enchautmentes of Circes, and goeth thorowe or percyth mens 
 hartes. And although they hurte not the bodye, they make a 
 man wodde, and distroyeth hym wyth the wounde of the mynde 
 
 or thoughte. 
 
 BOECIUS. 
 
 Then I saye, I graunt that thou haste sayde. And I perceyue 
 that wycked folke may be sayde ryght well to be chauged into 
 beastes, by y qualitie of their mind or thought, although they 
 kepe the forme of mans body. But I woldenot that it were leful 
 for them to do the same wickednes or bestly thoughtes, whose 
 mynde being cruell and wicked, waxeth wode in destruction of 
 good folk. P: Certes it is not lawefull for them, as it shalbe 
 shewed in place conueniente. But yet if the selfe same thynge 
 (that is thoughte to be lawefull for wycked folke, to do) be taken 
 away from them, soo that they myght not hurte good folke 
 a grete part of the payne of the wiked folke, shoulde then be 
 reuealed and shewed. For it semeth perchaunce incredible 
 to some folke, that it behoueth that wycked folke be more 
 vnhappye when they haue accomplyshed ther desyres, then 
 
 98 
 
if they myght not performe and do the same, that they desyre. 
 For if it be a wretched thyng to wyll to do euyll thynges, It is a 
 more wretched thyng to haue myght to do it, without whych 
 myght theffect and dede of the wicked will, should fayle. 
 
 And nowe synce that euery of the sayde thynges, that is to say 
 wyll, myght, and effect, hath his own mysery, it behoueth that the 
 wycked (whome thou seyst to wyl and may do wyckednes) 
 be greued w three folde myscheyfe. 
 
 Boeci: I saye I graunt the same, but I herteley desyre that To wyll to do 
 the wycked folke (forsakynge the power to do euyll) maye sone then to haue' 
 lacke the sayde thre folde myschyfe. P: So shall they want m YS} le *° do 
 
 J J J J euyll. But 
 
 peraduenture sooner then eyther thou wouldeste be sorye they when myghte 
 shoulde, or that they themselfe wene, that they shall wante. For ^yiif thtn.' 
 there is nothyng so durable in so shorte bonds of this lyfe, that foloweth the 
 the myndes (specially immortall) do thynke longe to abyde and then the 
 endure. Of whyche foresayde wycked the gret hope and the gret m yR nte 1S 
 
 J J J or o worse then the 
 
 compassing power of wyckednes, is oft distroyed with sodayne wyll. 
 ende, and er they beware thereof : which foresayde sodden 
 destructyon, truelye hathe appoynted them an ende of theyr 
 wretchednes. 
 
 For yf wyckednes makethe wycked folke then must he nedes 
 be most wycked that longest is wycked. Whyche foresayde 
 wycked folke I would iudge most vnhappye or caytyfe, if that 
 extreme death at lest waye dyd not finish their wyckednes. 
 
 For if I haue truely concluded of the myschyfe of the wycked 
 folke, then it apperethe that their wyckednes is withoute ende 
 whyche appereth to be eternall or euer contynuyng. BOE: I 
 saye this is a merueylous and a hard conclusion, to graunt : but 
 I do knowe that the same doo wel agre to the thynges that were 
 graunted before. PHIL: Thou iudgest well in this, but he that 
 thynkethe it a hardethynge to agre to the conclusion, it behoueth 
 hym to shew eyther that some false thynge hath gone before, or 
 ells he must shewe that the conferrynge of proposions is not 
 effectuall or maketh no force of a necessary conclusion, Or els 
 yf he graunt the thinges precedent there is no cause at all, whye 
 that he should complayne vpon the argument. For thys thynge 
 that I shall say now shall no lesse seme maruaylous, but is soo 
 n ecessarye to be concluded, of the thinges that be concluded before. 
 
 Boe: I saye, tell me what is it ? 
 
 PHIL: Certes the sayd wycked folke be more happye and 
 
 99 
 
blessed that be ponyshed for their desertes, then yf no ponysh- 
 ment of right do chastyce them at all. And I do not intend thys 
 now, for that any man myght thynke that the wycked maners of 
 men be corrected by ponishment, and that they be brought to the 
 ryght waye for feare of ponishment, nor for that their payne and 
 ponyshment shoulde be an example to others, to eschewe vyce 
 and wyckednes, but I doo iudge that the wycked folke that be 
 iustlye ponyshed be more blessed after another maner, the for y 
 sayd .ii. causes though no maner of correctyon nor respect of 
 example be had. 
 
 BOE: I saye what shalbe that maner besydes the sayd other. 
 Phil. Haue we not graunted that good men be happy and 
 blessed, and euyll folke wretched. Boe. 1 say it is so. Phil: 
 Then yf anye good be added or put to the wretchednes of any 
 man, is not he more happy then the man, whose myserye is pure 
 withoute myxture of anye good wyth such mysery or wretchednes. 
 B. I say it semeth so as thou sayest. Ph. What if some other 
 euyll (besydes the euyl he hath alredi) were annexed vnto y 
 same wretche that wanteth al good, sholde he not be demed 
 more wycked then he a great deale whose euyll is tempered and 
 mytigated with y distribution or partakyng of suche good. 
 Boe: I saye what ells. Phil. Then certes the wicked folke 
 when they be ponished, haue some good annexed, That is to 
 saye : theyr payne and ponishment that they suffer, whych is 
 good, by reason of iustyce. And there is in the same wicked 
 folke (when they be vnponyshed) some other euyll, that is to 
 saye : the lacke of ponyshment, whyche lacke of ponyshmet (for 
 desert of wickednes) thou hast graunted to be euyll. Boe: I 
 cannot denye it. Phil: Then such wycked folk be more wycked 
 when they be wrongfullye perdoned and delyuered from ponysh- 
 ment, then when they be ponyshed by iust iudgement. And so 
 it is manyfest that it is ryght to ponyshe wycked folke, and 
 that it is a wicked thing to let them escape vnponyshed. 
 
 Boe: Who wyll denye the same. 
 
 PHIL: Certes no man can deni al thing to be good, that is 
 iust and ryghte, and on the other syde the thyng that is vniust 
 and false, appereth to be euyll. Boe. I say Certes, that these 
 thinges be consequences, 'to the thyngs that be concluded a 
 lytell before. But I praye the tell me, dost thou thynke that any 
 ponyshment is lefte for the soule after that the body is dede ? 
 
 100 
 
Phil. Ye truelye and that very great ponishment, of the whyche 
 
 soules I thynke that some be tormented with intolerable payne, 
 
 and other be ponyshed by the meke paines of purgatorye, but I 
 
 am not now mynded to speke of suche thynges. But I haue 
 
 spoken hytherto that thou myghtest know, y the myght and 
 
 power of wycked folke (that semed to the most vnworthy) is no 
 
 myght nor power. And that the wycked folke that y" com- 
 
 playnest vpon that they were vnpunyshed, thou sawest dyd 
 
 neuer wat due ponyshment for their wyckednes. And thou 
 
 dyddest praye that the power and myght, in malyce that the 
 
 wicked folke had agaynst the good folke, shortelye to be ended. 
 
 And that thou myghtest perceyue that it is not long, and that 
 
 y myght of the wycked were more vnhappye yf it were con- 
 
 tinuall or longe enduryng, and that it is most vnhappye if it 
 
 were perdurable, and should neuer cese. And furthermore it 
 
 is proued that the wycked folke that be let go without iust 
 
 ponyshment, be more wycked then when they be ponyshed by 
 
 iust iudgemente. And to thys sentence it is a consequence, that 
 
 then at the last the wycked folke be turmented with more 
 
 greuous ponyshments, when they seme to be vnponyshed. 
 
 Boe. When that I do consyder thy resones (I say) I do thinke 
 
 that nothing is sayde moore true. But if I tourne agayne to 
 
 the iudgementes of the comen people, what man is there that 
 
 not onely semed to haue beleuyd these thynges, but at lest way 
 
 to haue hard these thynges? PHI. It is euen so. For the Bythelawe 
 
 commen people cannot lift vp their eyes (that be vsed to things ought 
 
 darkenes) vnto y light of the very truth, but they be like vnto tobeindewe 
 
 , . , ; . , , .,,,,' , , i 11 ordreasthe 
 
 birdes whose sight the night doth lyghten and the daye doth gooc [ t0 be re- 
 
 blynde. For whyles the commen people do not beholde the JT 1 arded j 1 a t nd b 
 
 order of thynges, but theyr own affectes and desyres, they do punysshed. 
 
 iuge that eyther the power of the wycked agaynst good folke, 
 
 or their escapyng from ponyshment is happy and blessed. But 
 
 se what Goddes lawe apopynteth. If thou conforme thy mynde 
 
 to the beste thynges, thou hast nede of no iuge that shal rewarde 
 
 the, for thou hast applyed thy selfe to the most excellent and 
 
 beste thynges. But if thou hast turnyd thy mynde vnto euyll 
 
 thinges, as vnto vyce, seke not anye outewarde ponysher without 
 
 thy selfe, for thou hast cast thy selfe into the worste thynges. 
 
 Like as if thou shouldest loke vpon the foule erth and heuen in 
 
 order (all outwarde thynges leyde apart for the tyme) then it 
 
 IOI 
 
The comon 
 people do 
 iudge fane 
 from the 
 trueth. 
 
 should seme to the by reson of lokyng, that thou were now 
 present in the sterres and now in the foule earthe. But the 
 commen people beholde not these thynges. What than, shall 
 we ioyne vnto these comen people whych (I haue shewed) be 
 like vnto beastes ? What woldest thou say yf that a man had 
 vtterly lost his sight and also hadde forgotten that euer he sawe, 
 and yet dyd thynke that he lacked nothing of the perfection of 
 a man would not we that saw the same iuge that he were blynde. 
 For the common people woulde not beleue the thynge that I 
 shall saye, whyche is sustayned by as strong groundes of reason, 
 that is, that they that do wronges be more wretched the they 
 that suffer wrong. BOE. I saye I wold fayne heare these 
 reasones. Phil. Wilt thou denye that all wycked folk be not 
 worthy ponishment. Boeti. No. Ph. Truely it appereth 
 diuers wayes that they that be euyll be wycked. BOE. I saye 
 it is euen so. PHI. Then thou doughtest not that they that be 
 worthye ponyshmente be wretches. BOE. I saye it behoueth 
 so. Phil. If thou than satiste as a iudge, whether wouldest 
 thou thynke hym worthy ponyshement that hathe done wrong, 
 or he that hath suffered wrog ? BOE. I saye I woulde not doute 
 but I would satisfye and contente hym that hath suffered wronge 
 with the ponysment of hym that dyd the wrong. Phi. Then 
 it semethe the, that he that doth wrong is more wretche then he 
 that taketh wronge. BOE. I saye it foloweth well. PHI. There- 
 fore for thys cause and for other lyke causes of the same sorte, 
 it appeareth that syns of it self, by nature maketh men wretches. 
 And it semeth to euerye man that the wronge that is done, is 
 not the wretchednes of hym that taketh the wrong but of hym 
 that doeth the wrong. Boe. Certes the orators do contrarye 
 for they do labour to moue the iudge, to haue pitie vpon the, 
 that haue done some haynous and greuous offence, where as 
 more pytie ought to be shewed vnto them that haue suffred 
 wrong and it behoueth that they y haue done such offences 
 should be broughte (not with angre, but rather with merciful 
 accusers) vnto iudgemente, as sycke folke be broughte vnto the 
 physicion, that the iudge myght put awaye the syckenes, of the 
 offence, with ponyshment, by whych meanes the dyligence of 
 the orators should either holye cesse, or els if they would profyte 
 offenders, their diligence shoulde be turned into the habyte of 
 accusation, that is to say they shoulde rather accuse offenders, 
 
 1 02 
 
then excuse them or intreate for them. And so the offenders 
 (if it were lawefull for them to se by any chyn or clifte the 
 vertue and goodnes that they haue loste, and that they shoulde 
 expulse the vylenes of theyr synnes, by tormetes of paynes, to 
 optayne some recompence of theyr goodnes) woulde not esteme 
 thys for ponyshments, but wold forsake the diligence of suche 
 orators and defenders, and commyt them selfe holy to the accusars 
 and to the iudges. Whereby it happeth that hatred hath no 
 place emoneeste wise me. For who hateth good folk but he be w Vf e men , , 
 
 r i i • ought not hate 
 
 a very fole ? And he hath no wyt that hateth wicked folke. euyil men, but 
 
 For lyke as syckenes is the dyssease of the bodye, euen so vyce 1,°;™ th° 
 
 and synne is as the syckenes of the mynde, or soule. And when to goodnes. 
 
 we doo iudge that men that be sycke in their bodyes, be not phisicion 
 
 worthy to be hated but rather worthy to be pytied, eue so much laboureth too 
 
 the more are they not to be hated, but to be pitied whose sycke hoole. 
 myndes wickednes greaueth, that is more fierse and cruell, than 
 any syckenes of the body. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 What pleasure haue you, to stere vp so great hatred, and so 
 busylye to seke for your death, with your owne hand ? For if 
 you aske deth, he draweth nye of his owne fre wyll, and steyeth 
 not his swyft horses. Certes it is great meruayle that men do 
 seke to kyl one another with the swerde, whom the Lyon, the 
 Serpent, the Tygre, the Beare, and the Boore, do seke to kyll 
 with theyr tethe. Do men moue vnryghtfull hostes, and cruell 
 batell, and kyl eche other with dartes, bycause theyr maners be 
 dyuers, and agre not togyther ? Truly, the quarell and cause of 
 crueltie is not sufficient and iuste. Then yf thou wylte gyue a 
 conuenient reward for mens desertes : loue iustlye good folke, 
 and haue compassyon and pitye vpon euyll folke. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 By this I do perceyue what felycytie, or blyssednes is in the 
 desertes of good folke, and of wycked folk. But in this comraen 
 fortune of the people, I doo conceyue that therein is some good 
 or euyll. For no wise man hadde leuer be a banisshed manne, 
 nedye, poore, and shamefull : then to be full of riches, reuerende 
 
 103 
 
in honoure, stronge in power, and to dwell styll in his Cytie, and 
 florysshe in welth. So certes after this maner, that is to say : 
 by riches honour and power, the offyce of a wyse man, is 
 estemed more clere, and more assured of wysdom, then when 
 felycytie or blyssednes of gouernours or rulers, is scatered or 
 deuyded, as it were emonges the comme people next adioynynge 
 as subiectes. Sythe that namely pryson, lawe, and other tor- 
 mentes of lawefull paynes, do rather appertayne vnto myschi- 
 uous cytisens for whome they were ordeyned, then for good 
 folke. Therfore I do greatly maruayle, why these thynges 
 folowyng be turnyd clene contrarye, that is to saye : that 
 ponyshmentes of wycked folke, do oppresse good folke. And 
 that the wycked folke, do beare awaye the rewardes of vertue, 
 that is to say, why they be exalted to honor and his estate. And 
 I desyre to lerne of the what thou thynkeste to be the reason of 
 suche a wrongefull confusion. For I woulde lesse meruail yf 
 that I thought that al thynges were myngyd together with 
 chaunce of fortune. But now God the gouernoure of all thynges 
 incresethe my meruaylynge, syth that he geueth often tymes 
 plesaunt thynges to good folke, and sharpe thynges to euil folk : 
 and contraryewyse he geuethe harde thynges to good folke, and 
 to wycked folke theyr desyres, except the cause be knowen what 
 difference is betwene goddes doynges, and fortunes chaunces. 
 PHILOSO. It is no meruayle at all thoughe people thinketh that 
 there is somethinge folishe and confuse, when the reason of Gods 
 ordynaunce is not knowen. But althoughe thou knowest not the 
 cause of so grete a disposition, yet doute thou not but all thynges 
 be well gouerned, for asmuche as god the good gouernor, attem- 
 pereth and gouerneth the world vnyuersall. 
 
 He speaketh 
 after y 6 maner 
 of the Poetes 
 faynynge, or 
 after the 
 sayeng of the 
 ignoraunt 
 people, that 
 doo thynke 
 that y e sters do 
 drownetheym 
 selfe in the 
 sea, whe they 
 seme too fall. 
 
 Philosophye. 
 
 He (that knoweth not the sterres of arcture named the gret 
 beare to be turned nyghe vnto the hye banke called the north 
 pole. And why the slowe stere called Boetes, passeth the 
 waynes that is vnderstand, the sterres of the greate beare, and 
 drownythe his late flames or beames in the sea, when he 
 vnfoldeth his ouer swyft rysynges) shall wonder at the lawe and 
 course of the hygh firmament. And likwyse he (that knowethe 
 not whye the homes of the full mone do waxe pale, when they 
 
 104 
 
be infecte with the bondes of the dark night which is the shadow 
 of the earth. And howe that the mone beyng confuse and darke 
 in the tyme of the eclypse, discouereth the sterres y she had 
 couered with her clere lighte before) shall wonder at the same. 
 The commen errour moueth the people and they do werye their 
 brasynne vesseles whych is there belles, with many strokes 
 or knockes at all the foresaid thinges. But no man wondrethe 
 when y the blastes of the wynde named Chorus, beteth vpon 
 the sea banke, wyth ragyng floude. Nor no man wondereth 
 when the great quantitie of snow (congelyd by colde) or dyssolued 
 and molten w ith the feruent hete of the sonne, for in this it is 
 euydent to perceyue the causes thereof. But in the former 
 examples, the secret causes trobleth mes mynds. And the 
 mutable commen people be astonyed and do meruayle at the 
 sodayne chaunces of thynges, that fal in their tyme or age. But 
 if thou wylt not wonder, let thy cloudye and derke erroure of 
 ignoraunce cesse, and lerne the causes of suche chaunces. 
 And the certes, they shal no more seme meruailous vnto the. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 I saye it is euen so. But forasmuch as it is in thy goodnes to 
 declare vnto me the hyd, and secrete causes of thynges, and to 
 shewe me the darke reasones thereof, I pray the that thou 
 wouldest dispute and iudg of the same secrete causes, for this 
 wonder or meruayle troubleth me gretely. P. Then philoso- 
 phye smylynge a lytle thereat, sayd : thou requyrest me to 
 shewe the, the greteste thinge of all thynges that maye be 
 requyred, wherevnto scarse any thinge is left sufficiente to resolue 
 the same. For the matter that thou askest is such, that one 
 dought beyng determyned, other doughtes innumerable do ryse 
 vp thereof, as the heades of the serpent Hidra : And there Hydra, was a 
 shoulde be no ende of the same doubtes, except a man kept in, ^Jf-he'" 
 the same doutes wyth the quicke fyer, or serche of the wytte. ground, in 
 For in thys matter men be wont to inquyre of the symplicitie or m t™y heades, 
 puritie, of gods ordinaunce, of the order of destinye, of sodayne and y f one 
 chaunces of fortune, of the diuine knowledge and predestinacion, t hre other ' 
 and of the libertie of fre wyll. All whyche thynges, of howe heades 
 
 J J spiange vp of 
 
 greate wayte and difficultye they be of, for to determyne, thou the same, 
 thy selfe doeste verye well perceyue. But forasmuch as it is penteVler- 
 
 105 P 
 
cules slewe, as 
 appereth in 
 Cronycles. 
 
 The thynges 
 that Philo- 
 sophy spake 
 before, were 
 dyryued of 
 this principle, 
 that god is 
 perfyte good, 
 and the end of 
 all thinges, 
 and the 
 thinges that 
 Phylosophy 
 now entendeth 
 to speake, be 
 dyryued of this 
 principle, that 
 god is the 
 begynnynge 
 of all effectes. 
 
 The dyffyni- 
 cion of 
 prouidence. 
 
 The dyffyni- 
 cyon of 
 destynye. 
 
 parte of thy medicine, for the to know these thynges, although I 
 haue lytle leysure to do it, yet I wyl endeuor my selfe to declare 
 somwhat thereof. But if the swetenes of the versys or metyr of 
 musycke, do delyght the any thynge at all, thou must defer and 
 put of a lytle that delyght, vntyll I shall forme certayne reasones 
 ioyned in order, together for that purpose. BOE: I say do what 
 it please the. Phil. Then spake phylosophy thus as one that 
 began to speake by another principle. The generacion of all 
 thynges, and the procedynges of natures mutabilitie, and all 
 other thynge that moueth now taketh their causes, order, 
 and fourme by the stedfastnes of gods wyll and pleasure. And 
 the same, that is to saye : goddes wyll and plesure, beyng 
 set fast in the towre, or profounde altitude of hys simplicitie or 
 puritie, hath appoynted many maners or wayes, for thynges to 
 be done : whych wayes or maners, when they be conceyued in the 
 puritie of the dyuyne intelligence, it is named prouidence or 
 ordynaunce. But when the sayde maner or wayes is referred by 
 men vnto the thynge that mouethe and disposeth, it is called of 
 olde folke, destinye. Whyche thynges, that is to say, prouidence 
 and destenie, shal easely appere to be contrary thynges, yf a man 
 wyll well consyder in hys mynde the strength of them both. For 
 prouydence is the same deuyne or godly reason that is established 
 in the soueraine hygh prynce of al thynges, which godly reso dii- 
 poseth and apointeth al things. But destinie is a disposicion, 
 cleuyng vnto mutable or temporal thinges, by which dispositio, 
 prouidece knitteth al thinges in order. For prouidece embrasethe 
 all thynges together in one, although they be dyuers and infinite. 
 But destynye deuydeth all thynges being distributed in mouing, 
 places, formes, and tymes, as thus. Thys explycacion or declara- 
 cion of temporall order, that appertayneth vnto destynye, being 
 vnite or knytte together, in the syght of gods thought, is called 
 prouydence or ordynaunce. But the vniting of such ordynaunce 
 temporall, beynge deuyded and shewed in successyon of tymes, 
 may be called destinie. Which destinie and prouydence, 
 althoughe they be dyuers, yet the one of them dependeth vpon 
 the other. For the order of destinie procedeth and commethe of 
 the simplicitie or puritie of gods prouidence. For lyke as a 
 workeman conceyuing in his mynde the forme or fashyon of the 
 thyng that he is about to make, moueth and goeth aboute 
 theffecte of his worke, and ledeth by temporal or bodily ordy- 
 
 106 
 
naunces the thing that he had conceyued symply and presently 
 in his thought, euen so certainelye god by his prouidence or 
 ordinauce disposeth and ordrythe singulerly and fyrmely al 
 thynges that be to be done. But he mynystreth dyuersly and 
 temporally the same thynges by destynye that he hath disposed 
 or appoynted to be done. Then whether that destynye be exer- 
 cised by certaine godly spyryts, attendyng vpon gods prouidence, 
 or by the soule, or by nature, holye seruyng god, or by the celes- 
 tiall mouinge or constellacion of sterres, or by the vertue of 
 Aungels, or by the dyuers craftes and soteltyes of deuylles, or by 
 anye of them, or by them all, the order of destinie is accom- 
 plyshed and done. Certes it is manyfest that gods prouidence Prouydence 
 is a stedefast and symple or pure forme or maner, of thynges to ^ff ned 
 be done. 
 
 But destinye, is a mutable disposition and temporall order of Destyny 
 the things that gods simplicitie or puritie hath appointed or j^ned 
 suffered to be done. Whereby it happeth that all thynges that 
 be vnder or subiect to destinie be also subiect and vnder gods 
 prouidence and ordynaunce. To the whyche prouidence or ordy- 
 naunce destinye is subiecte it selfe. But some thynges that be 
 subiecte and put vnder godes prouidence, and ordynaunces, doo 
 excell and passe the order of destinye. Truely the thinges that 
 be fixed and knyt faste nyghe to the godhed, do excell the order 
 of mouable destynie, for as circles or wheles that do turne them 
 selfe about one self centyr or poynte, the innermost circle next 
 vnto the centyr or poynt, cometh and ioyneth next of al vnto 
 that which is a lone in the myddell, and is as it were a certayne 
 centyr or pointe to the other circles or wheles, that be set and 
 placyd aboute, and be turned without the centre or poynt. And 
 the vttermost cyrcle that is turned wyth a greater compasse, 
 is set fourth with so muche more large spaces as it is distant by 
 diuision from the myddle of the centyr, or poynte. But yf there 
 be any thinge that knyttethe and vnytethe it selfe, to the same 
 myddell centyr, or poynte, it is driuen into simplicitie, that is to 
 sai : into a thinge pure and alone of it self, constant and im- 
 mouable, and ceasseth to be seperate or to go at libertye. And 
 so by lyke reason the thynge that departeth or goeth awaye 
 ferthest from the fyrst thought of God, is wrapped with greater 
 bandes of destynye. And soo much more is any thyng fre from 
 distinye, as it is nere the same centyr, or poynte of thynges, that 
 
 I07 
 
Ther be two 
 maners of 
 destynye, one 
 consysteth in 
 worldly 
 thinges, that 
 bee mutable, 
 and the other 
 dependeth 
 vpon goddes 
 prouydence, 
 whiche is con- 
 staunt, and not 
 mutable. 
 
 A ma that 
 kylleth him 
 self, preten- 
 deth good to 
 hym selfe, to 
 auoyd the 
 trouble of his 
 mynd, este- 
 mynge a short 
 deathe of the 
 bodye, better 
 then a trouble- 
 some life here. 
 
 Mens iudge- 
 mentes be vn- 
 perfyte to 
 
 is to saye nere vnto god. And yf the thynge doo cleue firmely. 
 to the hygh thought of God without mouing, truely it passeth 
 the necessitie and power, of destinie. 
 
 Therefore like comparison or diuersitie as is betwene reason- 
 ynge, and vnderstandynge, and betwene the thinge engendred 
 and the thynge that is, and betwene tyme and eternitie, and 
 betwene the circle, and the middle centyr or poynt, euen so is the 
 mouable order of destinye vnto the stedefast simplicitie or puritie, 
 or gods prouidence and ordynaunce. The same order of destenye 
 moueth heuen and the sterres, and tempereth the elementes to- 
 gether emongest them self and chaiigeth them by enterchaunge- 
 able mutacions. And the same order of destinye renueth all 
 thynges, growinge, springing and fallyng by lyke progressions of 
 frutes and of sedes, that is to saye, of all beastes and growing 
 thinges. 
 
 And thys order of destenye kepethe in and constraineth from 
 liberty al mens actes and fortunes by a band of causes that can 
 not be vndone or losed, which causes when they do procede from 
 the immouable begynnynges of gods prouidence and ordynaunces, 
 it behoueth that they be immutable. And so al thinges be well 
 gouerned, as longe as the simplicitie or the onelye stedefastenes 
 abydyng in the dyuine thought, sheweth fourth the immouable 
 order of causes. And truly this order of the deuine prouidence, 
 kepeth in, by his stedefastnes, thynges mutable of them selfe, and 
 that otherwyse wold passe awaye casually and rasshely, if that 
 restrayned not : wherby it happeth that although all thyngs seme 
 confuse, darke, and troublesome to you that be not able to con- 
 syder thys order of thinges : the proper maner of gods prouidence 
 directynge it selfe to good, disposeth and ordereth all thyngs. For 
 there is nothyng done for the entente of euil, not so muche of the 
 same wicked folke. Which wicked folke (as it is shewed aboun- 
 dauntlye befcre) do seke for good, but that wycked errour do 
 peruert.and turne them from it, and not the order that cometh from 
 the bosome of the high soueraign good, that is god, do turne anye 
 man from his begynnynge, that is to saye from god. Certes what 
 confusion maybe more wycked, the that other whiles aduersitie and 
 other whiles prosperite do happen vnto good folke, and also to 
 wycked folke sometyme what they desyre, and sometyme the 
 thynges that they hate and abhorre. Do men nowliue in such perfec- 
 tion of mynde that suche folk as they do iudge to be good or euil 
 
 108 
 
"must nedes be suche as they doo iudge them ? But mens iudge- iudge the 
 mentes in this thynge do varye and not accorde. For the same ^god^es" 5 
 folke that some me do esteme worthy reward, other agayne do ordinance 
 
 ' , and workes. 
 
 deme to be worthy of ponyshmente. But let vs graunt that some 
 ma may discerne and knowe the good or the euyl folke, maye he God knoweih 
 than knowand se the inward condicion of mans thoughte as it hath of^^and' 6 
 bene wont to be sayd of the bodyes ? That is to saye : maye a the Phisidan 
 man knowe a mans thought, as men may knowe the complexion com pi ec tion, 
 or outeward condicios of the bodye ? Certes is not this lyke a , And m< ; n 
 
 J , knoweth not 
 
 myracle vnto a man that knowethe not, whye that swete thynges what is good, 
 agree well to hole folke, and bytter thinges to sycke folk ? Also ™ e n Uy b n c°„ se 
 why some sycke folk be heled with gentle medicines, and other they knowe 
 sick folke with sharp medicines. But the phisicion that knoweth g ° od ^ nor who 
 bothe the maner and temperaunce of helthe and syckenes, is eu y"> as 
 meruayleth not therat. But what other thynge semethe to be the Soule, 
 the helth of mens mindes and thoughts, but onely vertue ? and 
 what other thynge semeth y sicknes of mens myndes and 
 thoughtes, then vyce and syns. Who els is the keper of good 
 folk, and expulser or suppresser of wickyd folke, but only god 
 the ruler and the healer of mennes soules, whych god, when he 
 beholdeth and loketh downe from the high towre of his prouidence, 
 he knowethe what is conueniente and meete for euerye man, and 
 geueth to euerye manne the thing that he knoweth is mete for 
 him. Nowe hereof commethe thys notable myracle of the order 
 of destinie, when that god (that knoweth all thynges) doeth the 
 thynge that the ignoraunte people do wonder at. For to speake 
 a fewe thynges of the profounde depenes of the godhed that 
 mans resonne, may attayne vnto, the same man that thou demyst 
 iust and kepyng equitye, and ryght, semeth contrarye to Gods 
 prouidence that knoweth all thynges. And certes my familier 
 felowe Lucan declareth, that the cause victorius, plesyth the gods, 
 and the cause that is ouercome pleaseth Plato. Therefore what 
 soeuer thinge thou seist donne here in this world contrary to the 
 knowledge and expectacion of the ignoraunt folk, it is the ryght 
 order of thynges, but to thy judgement, it is a peruers confusion 
 of thynges. But admyt that some man is so well learned or 
 instructed, y both gods iugement, and mas iugement do agre in 
 him together as one, but yet y he is weke minded or harted, that 
 yf any aduersitie by chaunce happen vnto hym he wilbe clene 
 turnyd from his vertue or innocensye, wherby he may not kepe 
 
 109 
 
God fa'uered 
 Job, that ad- 
 uersytie shuld 
 not hurte his 
 pacience. 
 
 The pacience 
 of Job, was 
 confyrmed by 
 ponisshement. 
 
 S. Thomas 
 fered to go 
 preche in 
 India. 
 
 Saint Peter 
 sayd, he wold 
 not forsake 
 God, to dye 
 theribre. 
 
 The martirs 
 optayned a 
 honorable 
 name by theyr 
 death and 
 passyon. 
 
 his fortune, then the wise dispensation or prouidence of God 
 spareth hym, whome aduersitie and trybulacion myghte empayre 
 and make worse. And god wyll not suffer him to laboure that 
 is not mete or able to laboure. Another man is absolute perfit 
 in al vertues, holy and nere vnto god, so that gods prouidence 
 woulde deme it wronge y he shulde be touched with any aduer- 
 sitie, in so much that he will not suffer him to be vexed w any 
 infyrmitie or sycknes of the body. For as a certayne phylosopher 
 (more excellente by me) hath sayde : certes a true preistly man 
 laboreth not, for vertues haue presented the body of an holy ma. 
 from aduersitie. And often tymes it happith that the cheyf 
 thynges y be to be done, be geuen vnto good folke, that the 
 wyckednes aboundyng in euyl folke, shold be oppressid. And 
 god dystributeth and geueth to some folke nowe good, nowe euyll 
 thinges, accordyng to the qualitie of theyr mind. And some good 
 folke he greueth with aduersitie, leste that they should waxe 
 proude, of long prosperitie. And other folke he sufferethe to be 
 vexed with harde thynges, that thereby they may confyrme the 
 vertues of their mynde, by the vse and exercyse of pacience. 
 Some folke doo feare more then they ought to feare, y thing that 
 they maye well suffer. And other dispisethe more then they 
 oughte, the thyng that they cannot suffer, and god ledethe them 
 into experience of them selfe, that is to saye : makethe them to 
 knowe themselfe by aduersities. And manye haue optayned a 
 worshypfull fame of thys worlde by the meanes of a glorious 
 deth. And some that coulde not be ouercome by ponishment, 
 haue shewed example vnto other, that vertue cannot be ouercome 
 by aduersitie. And there is no dout but that all these thynges 
 be done ryghtfully, and ordynately, for the goodnes of them, for 
 whome they seme to happen. For certes where as sometyme 
 aduersities, and otherwhiles thinges desired, doo happen vnto 
 wycked folke, noo man meruayleth therat, but iudgeth that it 
 comethe of the causes thereof, that is to saye, for theyr 
 wyckednes. Lykewyse of the ponyshmentes that happen vnto 
 wycked folke no man meruaylethe, for all men doo thynke that 
 they haue well deserued the same, and that theyr ponyshmentes 
 doth aswell feare other from wyckednes, as causeth them to 
 amend that be ponyshed. And the prosperitie that happen 
 vnto wycked folke in worldly goodes sheweth a great argument 
 and proufe vnto good folke, what they ought to iudge of such 
 
 no 
 
prosperitie whych men doo se often tyme seme y wycked folke. 
 In whych thing I thynke also the same to be ordeyned by god, 
 that some mans nature is perchaunce so ouerturnyng and im- 
 portunate vnto wyckednes, that the pouertie of his houshold may 
 rather prouoke hym to stele, whose pouertie the goodnes of god 
 cureth and releueth, wyth the medycyne or remedy of mony, and 
 ryches. And another man perceyuing his owne conscience 
 corrupt with wickednes, and consyderynge wyth hym selfe his 
 prosperitie and welth, ferethe leste perchaunce the losse of the 
 same prosperitie whiche is pleasaunt vnto hym, should turne 
 hym to sorowe and heuines, and therfore he wyl chaunge his 
 euyll maners and conditions, and forsake his wyckednes, for fear 
 to lose hys prosperitie and riches. Prosperitie and ryches vn- 
 worthelye gotten hathe ouer throwen other into iust destruction 
 accordelye. Some be permytted to haue power to ponysh, for 
 that it shuld be an occasion of continuaunce of exercyse in vertue 
 to good folke, and a ponyshment to the wycked folke. For as 
 there is no concorde or agremente betwene good folke and 
 wycked folke, euen so the wycked folke cannot agre emongest 
 them selfe. And why not ? 
 
 For all wycked folke do vary of them selfe by theyr wyckednes, 
 that rendith their conscience, and doo often tymes suche thynges, 
 that when they haue done, they themself do iudge that they 
 oughte not to haue bene done. For whyche cause that hye God causeth 
 prouydence of god, hath often shewed a gret myracle so that makethe 3 '° 
 wycked folke, hath made wycked folke good folke. For when wicked good, 
 that some wycked folke do se that they suffer wronges of the 
 wicked, they being moued with enuy and hatred of theyr 
 wronges and hurtes, haue returnyd vnto the fruyte of vertue, 
 that is to sai vnto goodnes, when they do studye to be vnlyke 
 vnto the wicked whom they haue hated. Truely it is onely the 
 power of god (to whome also euyll thyngs be good) when he in 
 vsynge of those euyles, choseth oute theffecte of some goodnes, 
 that is to say, when god turneth euyll to good. For order 
 bindeth together all thynges, soo that what thyng departeth from 
 the reson and order appointed to the wycked, the same thing 
 must nedes fall into some other order, that is to saye : of the 
 good, soo that nothinge be lefte to folyshnes, or oute of order in 
 the kyngdome of gods prouidence or ordynaunce. The strong 
 god hath done al thyngs in the world, when he sawe and behelde 
 
 m 
 
Many thynges 
 seme euyl to 
 mans iudge- 
 met that be 
 good to gods 
 prouydence 
 y 4 dysposeth 
 all things for 
 the beste. 
 
 before all vvorldes. And certes it is not lawfull for men eyther 
 to comprehende with their wit, or to declare with ther spech all 
 the causes of gods workes : It is sufficient onely to behold thys 
 that the same God, the maker of all natures, ordaynyng all 
 things, disposeth them to good. And whyles that he hastethe 
 to retayne and kepe the thynges that he hath made into his 
 similytude and lykenes, that is to saye : in goodnes, he ex- 
 cludeth all wyckednes from the bondes of hys commenaltye of 
 thys world, by order of necessite of destenie : whereby it happeth, 
 that the euyl that men do thynke to abound in the world if 
 thou considerest Gods prouidence, that disposeth all thynges, 
 thou shalte perceyue that there is no euyll at all any where. But 
 I se well nowe, that thou being of late sore burdned, wthe wayte 
 of thys difficulte question, and also weryed with the prolixitie or 
 length of my reason, lokest for som swetenes of verses or metyr. 
 Therfore take thys drafte, whereby when thou arte refreshed, 
 and stronger, thou mayst ascende into hier questions. 
 
 Phylosophye 
 speaketh after 
 the maner of 
 the Poetes 
 which do fain 
 that the sters 
 and sonne 
 drowneth 
 them selues in 
 the seas. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 If thou wylt behold wyselye the ordynaunce of god in thy 
 pure mynde and thought, loke vpon the altitude of the hygh 
 heuen, for there the sterres do kepe their olde course and Con- 
 corde by the iust bande of thynges. For the sonne moued with 
 his redde fier and hete letteth not the cold copas of the mone, 
 nor the sterre called the beare (that turneth his swift courses 
 about the north pole, beyng neuer washed in the depe Occean 
 sea) couetethe to drenche hys flames in the same sea, seinge other 
 sterres to be drowned therin. And the sterre Hesperus, that is 
 to saye, Venus, sheweth always by euen courses of tyme, the 
 late darkenes, that is to saye, the nyghte. And the sterre called 
 Lucifer, bryngeth agayne the cleare daye. Euen soo the loue 
 euerlastynge of gods prouidence, makethe the enterchaungeable 
 courses of the sterres. And by suche mutuall concorde, trouble- 
 some warre and varians, is expulsed from the mouths of the 
 sterres, that is to saye : from the regions celestiall that beareth 
 the sterres. Also this concord tempereth the foure elementes by 
 equal maners that the moist elements that stryueth with the dry 
 elementes, doo geue place and suffer the drye planetes at cer- 
 tayne tymes. And that the cold elementes agre with the hote 
 
 112. 
 
planetes. And that the fier beinge the lyghtest elemet, haue the 
 higher place and the heuye earth, the lower place, and rest 
 beneth by the heuynes of the same. By the same concord and The sterres 
 by like causes, the yeare floryshyng with flowers geueth swete byThey/selfe, 
 sauours. And y hote sommer ripeth the corne. And the but by god, 
 Autumne (loded w appels) cometh again. And the droppyng uauntes obe- 
 rayne moisteth the wynter. This temperans of gods prouidence, dy ^ te at ,, 
 norysheth and bringeth forth all thynges, that bearethe lyfe in and com- 
 the world. The same temperaunce taking awaye the thynges aun emente - 
 that be made, hydeth them and bereueth them of there beinge, 
 and drownethe all thynges, that be brought forth and borne, 
 with the last death. And whiles these thynges be doing, the 
 hye maker of things that is to saye : almyghty god, sytteth 
 vnmouable hymselfe, and rulethe all thynges, and turneth and 
 moderateth the orders of thyngs, being of himselfe a kynge by 
 his wyse gouernaunce, a lord by power of creatyng all thyngs, 
 the fountayne of all goodnes, the begynnyng of al thynges, the 
 lawe binding all thynges, and the wise iudge, of equitie and 
 iustyce, rewarding euery man accordyng to his desert, which 
 god moueth al thynges to go fourth, and likewise restraining al 
 things stoppith the from their course, and establysheth for a 
 tyme, thinges mutable and wanderynge by their nature. And All thynges 
 except that god callyng backe the ryght progressions and gouerned a by 
 groundes of thyngs, constraineth and reuocateth al thyngs god in com- 
 againe into a due compas and course, the thinges that the stede- of s'eedes, 
 fast order of his prouidence nowe contayneth, beinge seperate ? pryn . g f th h 
 from the fountayne of their begynnynge, shoulde fayle and come and of the 
 to nought. Thys fountayne is the continuall loue of all thyngs j^Wkewys!" 
 that haue life. And all thinges desireth to be kept w the ende of thefyre 
 of good, for els they could not otherwayes endure, excepte that ayre"and of 
 all thynges being turned agayne by loue, do come agayne to the the ^ re f y re 
 begynnynge, that is to say : to god that gaue them their being 
 and made them. 
 
 Philosophye. 
 
 Seist thou not nowe what foloweth all these thynges that I 
 haue sayd ? BOE. I say what thinge foloweth ? Phi. All 
 fortune is good without dout. Boe. And howe can it be soo. 
 
 Phi. Vnderstande thus, that all fortune whether it be good or 
 
 "3 Q 
 
All maner of 
 fortune re- 
 wardeth exer- 
 ciseth or cor-' 
 recteth, and 
 if it be referred 
 to God, it is 
 good, and yf 
 it be referred 
 to any other 
 thig it is good 
 or euell, ac- 
 cording as it 
 is felte and 
 taken. 
 
 euylL is geuen either to rewarde or exercyse good folke, or for 
 thintente to ponyshe and correcte euyll folke. And so all 
 fortune is good that appereth eyther to be iuste or profytable. 
 BOE. I saye it is a verye true reason. And yf I do consider the 
 prouidence of god, or destinye whych thou taughtest a lytle 
 before, thy sentence is knyt together with stronge resons. But 
 let vs (if it please the) nomber this opinion or sentence, emongest 
 those thynges that thou diddest allege a lytle before, were not 
 to be thought of any man. Phi. And wherefore. BOE. For 
 that the commen speche of men dothe muche mystake the talke 
 of fortune, saying often that some mens fortune is very euyll. 
 Phi. Wylt thou therefore that I returne a lytle to the speche of 
 the commen people, so that I seme not to digresse ouermuch 
 from the vse of the people. BOE. I saye do as it shall please 
 the. PHI. Dost thou not iudge all thyng good that profyteth. 
 Boe. Yes. P. The fortune that dothe exercyse or correct, doth 
 good. Boe. I saye I graunt the same. Phi. Then is al fortune 
 good. Boe. What ells? Philoso. But this fortune that 
 exerciseth, is the fortune of such that be sette in vertue and do 
 stryue agaynst vyce : but fortune that correcteth, is of suche 
 that declyning from vyce, do chose and take the way of vertue. 
 BOE. I cannot denye it. PHILOSOPHI. But what sayest thou, of 
 plesaunte fortune, that is geuen to good folke for rewarde, doo 
 the comme people iudge the same wicked fortune ? Boe. No 
 truelye, but iudgeth it good, as it is in dede. P. What sayest 
 thou of the other fortune that is euyll and sharpe, and restrayneth 
 wicked folke by iuste ponyshment, do the commen people esteme 
 it good. Boe. I saye that they do iudge the same most wretched of 
 all thynges that maye be thoughte. Phi. Take hede therefore lest 
 that we folowynge the opinion of the commen people, haue not 
 concluded a thyng gretely, not to be thought of them. Boe. 
 What is that. P. Certes of these thinges that are graunted it 
 fortuneth that of them that be other in professing of vertue, or 
 in thencrese or vertue, or in optaynyng of vertue, al maner of 
 fortune (what soeuer it be) is good. But all maner of fortune is 
 euell to them that remayne in wickednes, whych thing the 
 commen people do not so iudge and take it. Boe. That is true, 
 although no man dare confesse the truth there of. Phi. Why 
 so ? A wyse man ought not to be greued, whe misfortune 
 happeth no more then a strong man to disdaine or to be moued 
 
 114 
 
with angre, when alarum or tumult of warre ryseth. For to 
 bothe, the same difficultie to stryue agaynst fortune, is the 
 matter, that is to saye : to the one whych is the strong man it is 
 a cause to optayne renome, to the other, which is the wyse 
 man, it is a cause to confyrme hys wisedom or vertue. For 
 therefore it is called vertue, by cause it, stryuing agaynst vice, 
 with all force, is not ouercome wyth vyce or aduersitie. Nor 
 certes you that be set in the increase or waye of vertue haue not 
 come to abounde in pleasurs and to continue in lustes of the 
 fleshe. For then you do sowe and plant a verye sharpe conflyct 
 or battell, with all fortune. Therfore lest that eyther wicked Strthta^ 
 fortune oppresse you, or good fortune corrupte and hurte you, myddle be- 
 hold you the meane betwene both with fyrme, and stedefast power vices that be 
 and strength. For certes al that is vnder the mene vertu or e * trem .f: for 
 
 aduersitie put- 
 
 passeth the meane vertue, dispiseth vertue, or is vicious, and teth a man in 
 hath no rewarde of his trauell or laboure. For it lyeth in your prosperite"' 
 owne power, what fortune you had leuer haue, that is to sai : to causeth pre- 
 take what fortune ye wyll. For all fortune that semeth sharpe boktenes. *" 
 or euyll (yf it do not exercyse the good folke, or correct and 
 chastyce the wicked folke) it greueth or ponysheth. 
 
 Paris the son 
 
 Kynge Pria- 
 
 ^. mus of Troy, 
 
 Philosophy. sta ie awaye 
 
 Quene He- 
 
 Agamenon the sonne of Atrydes beynge aduenger of wronges, la y n . the w!f e 
 done vnto his brother Menelaus the kynge, held warre tenne neiaus" g and e 
 yeares together agaynste the Troyans, and the citie of Trove, and J^P' her f s 
 
 , J his concubyne, 
 
 dyd reuenge (with destruction) the chambers of his sayde brother for y e whiche 
 Menelaus defiled, that is to say : he reuenged the rauishynge of batten betwixt 
 hys brothers wyfe, named Queene Helayne, that was taken awaye 'he Grekes, 
 by Parys and by hym carnally knowen, whych Helaine was kept a " Si SO q t h°t 
 
 vp in his brothers chamber. Whyles that the said Agamenon Troyewasdis- 
 
 i i rt,oi i TkT r • troied and the 
 
 desired to sprede and sette fourth the Sayles and Nauye of the Troyans. 
 
 grekes. And bought or optayned prosperous wyndes (that before Whs y e wynd 
 
 were contrarye vnto him) with the bloud of his owne doughter, the S Grekes 3 C 
 
 kylled for a sacrifyse vnto the goddes for the same, he putteth and wol de not 
 
 J j a r serue theyr 
 
 of the fatherlye loue, that he bare to hys sayde doughter, and the shippes : Aga- 
 pryest being sad or sory, to sacryfyce her (as y custome then was) ^rTse'hi 
 cutteth her throte for to haue a prosperous wynde of the goddes owne dough- 
 in y iourney or viage, against Priamus, and the Troyans. Ulixes the ' goddes^o 1 
 named Itacus lamented that he had lost his felowes, whome the hauea good 
 
 and prosper- 
 115 ous wind. 
 
UlixesaGreke cruell giaunt Poliphemus, lying in his greate caue, or den, had 
 from the seage deuoured and swalowed downe into his empty bely. Neuertheles 
 of Troy, was uiixes beynge wrothe for the same, had some comfort agayne of 
 
 taken, and his J ° ' & J 
 
 felowes de- his sorowes when he had put out the saide gyauntes eye, as he 
 Poiyphemon, was m sl e P e - Hercules is accounted noble and renoumed, for the 
 a Gyaunte great trauayles he toke in hys tyme, for he ouercame the proude 
 one eye. Centaures, he kylled the cruell Lyon, and toke awaye hys skynne, 
 
 TheCentaures, j^g s t ra ke and droue awaye the byrdes with hys arrowes, he toke 
 
 were halfmen, J J J 
 
 half Beastes. awaye the golden apples from the dragon, with the hed of metall, 
 were named tnat watc h e d and kepte them. He drue Cerbarus fro hel with a 
 Harpies threfolde chayne. He ouercame Diomede and gaue his fleshe vnto 
 
 gyns faces and ms car t horse for meate, he slewe the serpent Hidra and brent 
 dystroyed the hj s V enym, he toke awaye the home from the floude Achelous, 
 
 coutrey about , 
 
 them. euen from his forehed, and made hym hide his face for shame 
 
 porterof ^ w ' tmn his bankes, he slew the gyaiit Antheus on the costes of 
 
 place called Libie. And also Cacus y gret monster, that trobled the kyng 
 
 hurt'e the y Euander. The same Herculus slewe y huge bristled bore, that 
 
 coStrye al fouled the shoulders of hym with his fome, whych shulders had 
 
 Diomede is a borne the fyrmament as the poets do fayne. And last of all he 
 
 k^lfd' bare vppe with his shoulders (and neuer bowed his necke therat) 
 
 and made his the sayd fyrmamente. And so he deserued heuen, as a reward 
 
 them. a Hydra °f n ' s laste laboure and trauell. Then go you now that be 
 
 was a serpente stronge thether as the hard and dimculte way of the gret example 
 
 manye heades, of Hercules ledeth you, that is to saye the waye of vertue. O you 
 
 and wha one slothfull men brought vp or geuen vnto plesures or ease, whye 
 
 another do you turne your backes and forsake vertuous trauayle, to resist 
 
 AcheiouJ 1 '' v ' ce w^* 1 virtue, for the man that hath ouercome the plesures, 
 
 was a flood y* and desyres of the worlde, hath deserued heuen for his reward. 
 
 could chauge 
 it selfe into 
 
 a Bull with Here endeth the fourthe boke. 
 
 one home, 
 andintodyuers 
 other formes. 
 Antheus was 
 a gyaut, that 
 beynge werye 
 with fighting 
 wold recouer 
 strengthe by 
 touching y e 
 groud. 
 Cacus was a 
 gyaunt that 
 robbed, and 
 dystroyed the 
 countrye. 
 
 116 
 
THE FYFTE BOOKE. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 f"HEN philosophy had spoken and turned the discourse 
 of her talke to handle and intrete of other maters 
 more expedient and mete to be knoen. Then 
 Boecius sayde : O Philosophy, thy exortacion is 
 rightelye made and by aucthoritie most worthy. And I do 
 proue and perceyue it true in dede, that the question of the 
 deuyne prouydence (that thou spakest of a lytell before) is enter- 
 laced wyth manye other questions. But I do aske the whether 
 that thou thynkest that chaunce is any thing at all, and what it 
 is ? Phi. I doo make hast to perfourme the dete of my promys 
 and to open vnto the, the way wherby thou maist be brought 
 againe vnto thy country, that is to saye, vnto blessednes or perfyt 
 felicitie, but albeit that these thynges that thou askest of chaunce 
 be very profitable to be knowen, yet they be turned a lytell from 
 the way of our purpose. And it is to be feared lest that thou 
 being weryed by erronious wayes, or straunge questions mayst 
 not be sufficient ne strong of thy selfe to attayne vnto the ryght 
 way. BOE. Feare thou not that, for it shalbe greate quietnes 
 vnto me, to knowe those thynges that I chyfely delyghte in, and 
 it is not to be doughted of the thynges that shall folowe, when 
 that all the circumstaunce of thy disputacion shall therewithall 
 appere vnto me, without any dought. Phi. I wyll consent to 
 thy desire, and doe saye and affyrme that if any man wyl define 
 that hap is a chaunce, comming of sodeine mouing, and by no 
 certayne coniunction of causes, that then chaunce is no thing at 
 al, and I do iudge that then it is but a vayne saying besydes the 
 signification of the thing that we do spek of. For can there 
 be left anye place to foly, or vanitie, where as god settethe 
 
 117 
 
Nothing com- 
 meth of no- 
 thinge, in 
 comparyson 
 to a pertyculer 
 cause that 
 supposeth a 
 matter, but 
 in comparyson 
 toGod,whiche 
 is the cause 
 vniuersall of 
 all thynges, it 
 is otherwyse 
 for he made 
 al thinges of 
 nothing. 
 
 The diffini- 
 cio of hap or 
 chauce of 
 fortune. 
 
 all thinges wisely in good order ? For it is a true saying, that 
 nothynge, is of nought, whych saying no olde manne hath denied 
 at any time, howe be it they haue not put the same proposycion 
 as a certayne grounde or foundacion, by god, the fyrste creator 
 of thynges, but of a materiall subiecte, that is to saye : of the 
 nature of all reason. For yf any thyng shold come of nothyng, it 
 shuld seme to be rysen of nought. And if this thyng maye not 
 be done, then is it not possible that happe or chaunce be anye 
 such thing y I haue defyned a lytle before, that is to say : that 
 chaunce shuld come of sodayne mouing without any coniunction, 
 or knytting of causes. 
 
 Boe. I saye what than ? Is there nothing that may iustely be 
 called eyther chaunce or fortune? Or is there anye thyng 
 (although the commen people, knoweth it not) whervnto those 
 wordes of chaunce and fortune do agre. PHI. My Arystotle 
 speketh thereof, in his boke of phisike, and defynethe the same 
 both bryfely and nere the truthe, by reson. BOE. I saye after 
 what maner ? Phi. As often as anye thinge is done for the 
 cause and intente of some other thing, and then happeth 
 another thinge for some other causes, then the thyng that was 
 intended or that was loked for, the same is called chaunce or 
 happe. As if a manne in digginge the grounde for thentent to 
 tyll the felde, fyndethe a pece of gold dygged vp, certes the same 
 is thoughte to come by chaunce. But yet it commethe not of 
 noughte. For it hathe proper causes, whereof the fyndynge 
 thereof (beyng sodayne and not loked for) semethe to haue 
 wrought and made such chaunce and happe. For if the digger 
 or tyller, of the felde, had not digged the ground and the hider 
 of the golde, or mony, had not hid the same in the same place the 
 gold had not bene founde. Therefore these be the causes of 
 fortunes hap or chaunce, by cause it commethe, by causes metynge 
 and encountrynge or commyng together sodenly and not by any 
 meane, intent or expectation, of the worker. For nether he that 
 hyd the gold, nor he that tylled the ground intented that the 
 same gold shoulde be founde. But as I sayde it happed and 
 came so to passe, that he digged ther as the other had hyd the 
 golde. Then it is lawefull to defyne chaunce and happe to be a 
 thyng vnloked for, commynge of causes, that be done for some 
 other thynge or purpose. But the same fatal order procedynge 
 from the ineuytable knyttyng together, or coniunction of causes, 
 
 .118 
 
that descendeth from the fountayne of godes pfouiddhce. "whych 
 dysposeth and setteth all thynges in theyr places, and tymes, 
 makethe that causes do runne together and come together 
 accordyng. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 The floudes called Tygrys, and Eufrates do sprynge vp 
 together as one fountayne, out of the holownes or rockes of the 
 hylles, or bankes of the countrye of Achemenye called Perthie, 
 where as the people doo fyght fleyng and do cast dartes backe- 
 ward, and stycketh them in the brests of their enemyes that do 
 pursue them. And a none they the sayde floudes doo deuide 
 them self in sondre. And yf they do ioyne them selfe together 
 agayne, into one course and mete, then muste those thyngs come 
 together that both waters bryngeth with them at there metinge. 
 And the shippes and blockes that be raised and plucked vp with 
 the floudes wil mete together, and the waters being mixed 
 together in flowyng wyll wrappe in such thynges as they haue 
 founde by chaunce of fortune, whych beyng varyable, the low 
 countrye, or ground, and the fluxible order of the rennyng 
 or flowyng water, or streme ruleth. Euen so fortune that semeth 
 to go at lybertye, without anye gouernment, suffreth rule, or is 
 ruled and goeth by the selfe same lawe and order of goddes 
 prouydence or purueyaunce. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 I do very well perceyue and knowe the same, that is to say : 
 that chance and fortune standeth by gods prouidence. And I 
 do graunt that it is euen so as thou sayest. But I would 
 know whether there be anye lybertie of oure fre wyll in this 
 order of causes, that cleueth so faste together in them selfe, or 
 els whether that the chaunce or necessitie of destenye con- 
 straynethe and kepethe in the mocions or effectes of mans 
 thought ? Phi. Certes there is libertie of fre wyll and there 
 was neuer any resonable nature, that is to saye : naturall vnder- 
 standyng but it had lybertye of fre wyll. For the thyng that 
 hath reson naturally, hath iudgement whereby it maye descerne 
 euery thing and knoweth of it selfe thynges to be eschewed or 
 
 119 
 
desyred. And the thynge that any man demeth to be desired, 
 he foloweth : But he escheweth the thing that he demeth to be 
 eschewed. Wherfore in all thynges wherein reason is, therein is 
 alsoo lybertie to wyll or not to wyll. But I doo not determyne 
 that thys lybertye to wyll, or nyll is equall or lyke in al thynges. 
 For in hyghe and diuine substaunce, that is to say in aungeles, 
 is bothe infallyble iudgemente, incorruptyble wyll to euyll, and 
 redye power to doo thynges desyred, but it behoueth that mens 
 soules be more free, when they kepe them selfes in the contem- 
 placion of goddes mynde and wyll, and they be lesse free when 
 they slyde into bodyes humayne, that is to saye, whe they 
 behold worldly thyngs. And they be yet lesse fre, when they 
 be gathered together into erthly mebers or affects. But yet the 
 most extreme bondage of the soules, is when they be geuen to 
 vyce and synne, and haue fallen from the possession or grounde of 
 their own proper reason or understandynge. For after that they 
 haue turned away ther eyes of reason and vnderstandyng fro the 
 light of the hygh and perfyt truth, to inferor and darke thynges, 
 that is, to worldelye,and carnall thynges, anone they be blynded 
 with the cloude of ignoraunce, and be troubled with myscheuous 
 affectes and passions, wherevnto when they do come, and thereto 
 consent, they do increase the bondage that they haue brought 
 them self into. And they be in maner as prysoners, kept from 
 their owne proper libertie. All whyche thynges, neuerthelesse the 
 sight of goddes prouydence that seyth and beholdeth all thynges, 
 from hys eternitie or euerlastyng godhed, disposeth al thyngs 
 predestinate, according to their desertes, seith all thynges and 
 hereth all thynges. 
 
 Philosophye. 
 
 Homere a man of swete eloquece discrybeth that the son is 
 cleare, and pure of lyght. Which sonne neuerthelesse cannot 
 breake thorough and shyne into the depe bowels, of the earth, 
 nor botome of the sea, with the light of his beames. The maker 
 of the great worlde, whyche is god, is not, nor seith after that 
 sort. For he (by his knowledge) percethe all thynges, lokyng 
 from aboue. And the earthe resysteth not hym by any gretnes 
 thereof. The darke night letteth him not with her blacke 
 cloudes. But in the instant or moment of a thought, he seith 
 
 1 20 
 
thynges present, thinges past, and thinges to come Whyche 
 god forasmuche as he seith and beholdeth al thyngs, thou alone 
 mayste call hym the verye true sonne. 
 
 Boecius. 
 
 Beholde nowe am I confounded agayne withe a more 
 dyfficulte dought then I was before. 
 
 Phi. What dought is that ? truelye I do thynke that I doo 
 perceyue nowe wherewithall thou art troubled. 
 
 Boe. I saye it semeth to repugne gretlye, that god knoweth all 
 thynges, before, and that there is anye libertie of fre wyll. For 
 yf god seith all thynges before, and that he maye not be 
 deceyued, then must that thyng happen and come to passe, that 
 godes prouidence, sawe before to come. Wherfore if that godes 
 prouidence knoweth before by hys godhead, not onely mennes 
 actes, and dedes, but also their counsayles and wylles : Then 
 shal there be no lybertye, of frewyll nether can there be any 
 other dede or any wyll, but suche as gods prouidence (that 
 cannot be deceyued) hath before knowen and perceiued. For if 
 they might be wrested or altred otherwyse then they be forsene 
 or purueyed, then shoulde there be no fyrme or stedefaste 
 prescience or foreknowledge of god, of thynges to come but 
 rather an vncertayne opinion. Whych thing to beleue and 
 thynke of God, I iudge it vnlefull and wycked. Nor truely I 
 allowe not that reason, that some men do thinke therby to 
 dissolue or assoyle the knotte, and dought of the sayde question. 
 For they doo affyrme and saye, that somethynge is to come to 
 passe therefore, for that the prouidence and forknowledge of 
 god, saw before, that it is to come, but rather contraryewyse, 
 that the same thynge, that is to come, cannot lye hyd, and 
 vnknowen vnto goddes prouidence. 
 
 And by the same meanes it behouethe, that thys thynge, that 
 is concluded of chaunce, slydeth into the cotrary part, that is 
 to say : that lyke is concluded of gods prescience or forknowledge 
 as of chaunce. Nor certes it is not of necessitie that those thynges 
 do happen that be purueyed or forsene of god, but that it behoueth 
 of necessitie that those thinges that ar to come, be purueyed or 
 foresene of god. As though men serched for what cause pre- 
 science is, whether it be the cause of necessitie of euerye thinge 
 
 121 R 
 
to come, or whether the necessitie of thinges to come, be the 
 cause of prescience or purueyaunce of god. 
 
 But I do laboure to declare the same thynge, that is to say : 
 that the chaiice of thynges before knowen, is necessarye, howe 
 soeuer the ordre of causes standeth. All thoughe that it semeth 
 not, that prescyence or forknowledge bryngeth in necessytie of 
 betydyng, or happynge of thynges to come. For yf anye man 
 sytteth, it behoueth that the opinion of hym is true that thinkethe 
 that he sytteth. And lykewyse agayne on the other parte, yf 
 the opynyon be true of anye man, that for bycause he setteth it 
 must nedes be of necessitie, that he sytteth, then is there neces- 
 sytie in both. For in the one is necessitie to sytte, and certes in 
 the other is necessitie of truthe. But anye man sytteth not there- 
 fore, for bycause the opinion of hys sytting is true. But rather 
 the opynyon of syttynge is trewe : for that it chaiiced before that 
 some man dyd sytte. And so for as moche as the cause of the 
 truth, procedeth and commeth of the other parte, that is to say : 
 of sitting, and not of the true opinion, yet notwithstandyng there 
 is a commen necessitie in both. So then it apperyth to make 
 lyke reasons of gods prouidence and of thinges to come. 
 
 For although thinges be therfore puruayed, bycause they be to 
 Origene, dyd come, yet certes they happen not therefore because they be 
 Saint Paule to p urue y ec i_ Neuertheles it behoueth of necessitie that eyther 
 
 the Romanes r j j 
 
 sayth. things to come be purueied of god, or els that the thynges 
 
 shalfnofbee purueyed of god, do hap and come to pas. Which thing alone is 
 therfore, bi- sufficient to destroye the lybertie of fre wyll. But howe peruerse 
 
 cause God , ... 111 
 
 knew it shuld a thynge or erronious is thys nowe, that the chaunce of temporall 
 ^ e 'h U M b h CaUSe things be thoughte or sayd to be the cause of the high prescience 
 therfore god or fore knowledge of God. But what other thinge is it to thynke 
 forelt^was 6 ' th at S ^ purueyeth thynges to come therefore, bycause they be 
 done. to betyde or come, then to thinke that the thyngs, that sometyme 
 
 haue chaunced, be the cause of the high prouidence or puruey- 
 aunce of God. Herevnto I adde these thynges as for example, 
 when that I do knowe that there is any thing, it is of necessitie 
 that y same thing is. And so when I haue knowe that any thing 
 shall happen, it behoueth of necessitie that the same thing come 
 to passe. So then it folowethe, that the chaunce of things knowen 
 before they chaunce, cannot be eschewed or auoyded. Ferther- 
 more if any man esteme any thing to be otherwise then it is, it is 
 not onelye no knowledge or science, but it is a false or fallible 
 
 122 
 
opinion, farre dyuers, and contrarye from the truth of knowledge 
 or scyence. Wherefore yf anye thyng be so to come, that the 
 chaunce thereof is not certayne and necessary, howe maye that 
 thinge be knowen before that it shall come, for as scyence or 
 knowledge, is not myngled wyth falshed, euen so the thynge that 
 is conceyued by science or knowledge, may be none otherwyse 
 then it is conceyued. For that is the cause that science or know- 
 ledge wanteth lyinge. For it behoueth that euery thyng be euen 
 so as science or knowledge comprehendeth and affirmeth it to be. 
 What shal I saye than ? After what maner knoweth God all 
 thynges before, to come, that be vncertayne ? For yf he do think 
 assuredlye that the same thynge shall come, that is also possyble 
 not to come or happen, he is deceyued, which thing is not onely 
 vnlawefull and wycked, to thynke, but also to speake of god. But 
 if that god so knoweth, as things be, so they shal come to passe. 
 And that he knoweth also eyther that the thynges may be done, 
 or may not be done. What is that prescience or fore knowledge 
 that comprehendeth nothyng certayne ne stable ? Or what dyffer- Thyresyus was 
 ethe thys fore knowledge from the folyshe prophecy of Thiresy j^nancTv'i 
 the profysiar that sayd : whatsoeuer I shall say, eyther it shalbe, yeares a wo- 
 or it shall not be ? Or els what is the dyuine prouydence better knewe the 
 
 than mans opinion, if it demeth thyngs vncertayne as men doo, pleasures of 
 r , . , . . ,„.,.,. bothe - And 
 
 of whose ludgement the chaunce is vncertayne ? But if nothinge iuno for his 
 
 may be vncertayne wyth hym that is the most sure fountaine of lud g emente of 
 
 J j j j women, made 
 
 all thinges, then is the chaunce certayne of suche thynges, that hym biynde, 
 he shall knowe before assuredly shall come. madehym'to 
 
 Wherefore there is no libertie in the counsayles and actes of prophesye. 
 mankynde, that the deuyne thoughte (that loketh vpon all things Tne know- 
 without errour of falshed) knytteth and byndethe in, vnto one ledge of God, 
 
 , ,, T , ... ... . , , is euer certain 
 
 chaunce. Whyche thinge when it is once receyued and graunted, and trewe. 
 that is to saye : that there be no fre wyll, then it appereth howe 
 great fall destructyon or hurt folowethe, of all humayne thynges, 
 that is to saye, of thynges appertaynyng vnto mankynde. For ah vertues 
 the in vayne, rewardes be ordeyned for good folke, and ponysh- and vyces do 
 ment, for wycked folke when that no fre and voluntary mouyng electioofgood 
 of mans thought, or corage hath deserued the same rewarde or pon/sshemenf 
 payne. And the same thyng shoulde then seme most wycked, and rewarde, 
 that nowe is iudged most iust and best, that is to say ether to f re m acte ^ y 
 oonvshe wycked folke or to reward good folke, the whych folke g°° d or e Uy ii 
 
 , , and yf fre wyll 
 
 ther owne proper wyll hath not enforcyd, to eyther one or other, be taken away, 
 
 123 
 
then is there that is to saye : nether to good nor euyll, but the certayne 
 tion, nor act necessitie of thynges to come, constraineth them therto. Then 
 nor dede. shuld there be nether vyces nor vertues, but rather a myxte and 
 
 indiscrete confusyon of all desertes of the good and euyl folke. 
 And nothyng may be thoughte more wycked then the same, 
 whe that all order of thyngs is dyrified and taken of and from 
 gods prouydence, and that it is lawefull for mans counsails or 
 wylles to do nothyng, that is to sai that mankynde hath no 
 power to wil or do any thyng but as it is constrayned. And so 
 it cometh to passe that all our vyces be referred vnto god the 
 author of al good thinges, that is to say, then god is to be 
 blamed for our vyces sith that he constrayneth vs by necessity 
 to do them. Therefore is there no reson or meane, why to trust 
 in god or to praye to god. For why should anye man eyther 
 trust in god or pray to god when the order of destenye that 
 cannot be altred knytteth together al thinges that men desyre. 
 Therefore then the same onely reward betwene God and men 
 shuld be taken away that is to saye, to hope and to praye. 
 For truely by meanes of iuste humilitie we deserue the in- 
 estimable rewarde of gods grace, and that is onely the way that 
 is to vnderstand, by hope and prayer, wherby it semeth that 
 men may speke with god, and to be vnyte and knytte by reason 
 of supplication and prayer, to the clere lyght, that is to say : to 
 god before that they optaine theyr request. Whych hope and 
 prayer beyng receyued and graunted, yf they seme to haue no 
 strength, by necessitie of thynges to come, what thinge is there, 
 whereby we may be knytte, and cleue faste, to that prynce of 
 thynges, that is to saye to god ? Wherefore it must nedes be 
 that mankynde beyng seperate and vnioyned from hys foun- 
 tayne or begynnyng whych is god, doo fayle and come to 
 nought, as thou saydest a litle before. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 What varyable cause hath seperate the bands of thyngs, that 
 is to saye of gods prouydence, and of fre wyl ? what god hath 
 appointed so great warres and strife betwene these two very true 
 thynges, that they both be so deuyded in sundre that they beyng 
 mynged will not be coupled together. Is there any discorde or 
 varyance in true thynges. They do cleaue together certayne 
 and fyrme one with another. But mans mynde, drowned and 
 
 124 
 
ouercome wyth the blynde members of the body, cannot (by the 
 fyer or lyght of the soule oppressed by the bodye) knowe the 
 subtyll coniunction or ioynyng together of things. But why 
 burneth the soule with so great desyre to fynde the sygnes of 
 truthe, that lye hyd. Do the mynde know the thynge, that 
 she (beynge carefull) desyrethe to knowe ? Who desyreth or 
 laboureth to knowe the thynges that, he knowethe all redye ? 
 And if the mynde knowethe not the thynge that it desyreth, 
 wherefore seketh she beyng blynde and ignoraunt, that is to 
 saye : why sekethe she the thing that she knoweth not, when 
 she seith it ? What man knowyng nothyng, wissheth or desireth 
 any thing ? Or whoo can folowe thynges that be not in his 
 thought ? And althoughe he seke for suche thynges where shall 
 he fynde them ? What man can knowe the fourme of the 
 thynge founde and is ignoraunt of the same ? But when the 
 soule loketh vpon the profounde hygh thought, that is to say : 
 vpon god, then it knoweth the summe or effecte and all thynges 
 together vnyuersall and perticuler. But nowe while the soule is 
 hydde in the cloude or shadow of the body, and members of the 
 same, it hath not holy forgotten it selfe, but kepethe the vniuersall 
 knowledge of thyngs, and leseth y perticuler knowlege of things, 
 Therfore whosoeuer sercheth to know true thynges, he is in the 
 habyte of nether of them, for nether he knoweth all thynges nor 
 hath vtterly forgotten all thynges, or is not all ignoraunt, but 
 remembreth the summe or effecte of all thynges. Whyche 
 effecte he retaynyng, counsayleth with hym selfe, and calleth to 
 remembraunce depelye by studye, thynges before sene or knowen, 
 to thintente that he maye ioyne the partes or thynges that he 
 hath forgotten, to those partes or thynges, that he hath reserued 
 and kept styll in hys memorye. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Then sayd Philosophi : this questyon of goddes prouydence is 
 olde, and greatly moued, and disputed of Marcus Tullius, when 
 he deuydeth dyuynacion, that is to saye : in his boke of dyuyna- 
 cions, and thou thy selfe hast, long and vtterly sought for the 
 same but yet it hath not ben any wher suffycyently and firmely 
 determyned of any of you at this day. And y cause of y dark- 
 nes or diffycultie therof, is for that the mouyng of mans reason 
 can not be applyed vnto the symplicitie, or purenes of goddes 
 
 125 
 
The sygne 
 that wyne is 
 in any place 
 to sell, is not 
 the cause of 
 sellynge but a 
 synge of sell- 
 ynge. 
 
 prouydence, that is to saye : mans reason can not comprehend 
 the thynge that god seyth. Whiche prouydece . of God, yf it 
 myght be thought, or compassed by mans wyt, then were 
 it vtterlye withoute any doughte at all. The cause and reason 
 of whiche dought, I wyll assaye and proue, at the laste so to de- 
 clare and open, when I haue fyrst answered to thy reasons, by 
 the which thou art moued. For I aske why thou thynkest that 
 the reason of them that do assoyle this, is not good nor effectuall. 
 The which reason, or solucion iudgeth that lybertie of fre wyll 
 can not be let by prescience or fore knowledge for by cause it 
 supposeth that prescyence is not the cause of necessytye in 
 things to come, takest thou any other argumente of necessitie of 
 thynges to come, els where, but that the thyngs that be knowen 
 cannot fayle, but com to passe ? Therfore yf prescience or fore 
 knowledge of thyngs to come putteth no necessitye in thynges to 
 come (as thou thy selfe diddest confesse a litle before) what, 
 is there any cause that voluntarye determynacions or actes of 
 thynges be compelled to certayne happes or chaunces ? That 
 thou mayst the better vnderstand by way of example what may 
 folow, let vs suppose that there is no prescience, should therfore 
 the thyng (in asmuch as belogeth therto) that commeth of fre wyll, 
 be constrayned to come by necessitye. 
 
 Boe. No. Phi. Then lette vs suppose agayne that there 
 is prescience, but that it putteth no necessytie in thyngs to 
 come, then (as I suppose) the same lybertie of wyll shall remayne 
 hoole and fre from all necessytie. But thou wylt say that 
 although presciece is no cause of necessytie in thynges to come : 
 yet it is a sygne that they be to come by necessytie. Therfore 
 by this meanes althoughe prescyens had neuer ben : yet it may 
 appere that chauces of thinges to come be necessarie. For euery 
 sygne sheweth the thyng onely whereof it is the sygne, but yet it 
 makethe not the thing that it signyfyeth. Wherefore it behoueth 
 to shewe before that some thing happethe by necessitie, that 
 it maye appere that prescience or foreknowledge, is the sygne of 
 thys necessytye or els yf there be no necessytye, the same 
 prescience maye not be the sygne of the thyng, that is not. 
 
 But nowe it apperethe that the profe of thys (sustayned by 
 stedefast reason) is not taken of signes and outewarde argu- 
 mentes, but of conuenyente and necessarye causes. But thou 
 mayste saye howe maye it be that the thyngs do not come, that 
 
 126 
 
be purueyed to com. As though we do beleue that the thinges 
 y gods prouydence saw before to come, should not come. But 
 that we should rather iudge, though they happen or come, that 
 they had no necessitie of their owne nature that they shoulde 
 come. Whyche thynge thou mayst easely perceiue by this 
 example, we do se manye thynges with our eies whyles they are 
 in doynge, as those thynges whyche the carters seme to do 
 in ordering and tempering of their cartes, and such other volun- 
 tary acts after the same maner. Is there, therefore anye neces- 
 sitie in oure eyes or lokyng, that compelleth any of the thinges 
 so to be done ? Boe. No truly. For theffect of a craft should be 
 in vayne if al thyngs should be moued by compulsion of our eyes, 
 or by lokynge on. 
 
 Phi. Than the thinges whych (when men doo them) haue no 
 necessitie that men do them, And the same thynges be to come 
 withoute necessitie, before they be done. Wherfore ther be some 
 thinges to come whose commynge is quyte and fre from any 
 necessitie. For certes I thynke no man will say thys that those 
 thinges that nowe be, were not fyrste before they were done. 
 And the same thinges although men hadde knowen them before, 
 yet haue they fre chaunces. For as the knowledg of thinges 
 presente, bringeth in no necessitie to thinges that men do, euen 
 soo prescience or fore knowledge of thinges to come, bryngeth 
 in no necessitie to those thyngs that are to come. But thou 
 sayest that the same thinge is to be doughted, whether there 
 maye be anye prescience or fore knowledge of such thynges as 
 haue none necessarye chaunces. For they seme to disagre or 
 varye, that is to vnderstande of prescience and thinges to come. 
 For thou thynkeste that yf thynges be knowen before they come, 
 y of necessitye, they must folowe and come. And, yf there be no 
 necessitie, they might not be knowen before. And thou thinkest 
 that nothing may be comprehended, by prescience, or foreknow- 
 ledge of god, but it be certayne. And if those thynges that 
 haue vncertayne chaunces be purueyed as thynges certayne, thou 
 takest that for to be some ambyguitieor doughte of opinion, and 
 not for the truthe of scyence or knowledge. For thou beleuest 
 that it is agaynste the hole effectes of science or knowledge 
 to iudge a thyng otherwayes then the thinge is, and in thys thou 
 doest erre. The cause of whiche errour is that all thinges that 
 any man hath knowen, he thinketh that it is knowen by the 
 
 127 
 
strength and nature onely of those things that be knowen, whych 
 is all contrarye. For al thynge that is knowen is not knowen by 
 the power of the thynge that is knowen, but is rather knowen, by 
 the meane of the that knoweth it, as it may appere by thys 
 shorte example. For the sighte of the eye and the touchyng of 
 the handes, knoweth one selfe roundnes of bodye not after one 
 maner, but dyuersly. For the syght without mouinge of it selfe, 
 beholdith the hole body, together a farre of. But the touchyng, 
 cleuyng together, and being ioyned to the rowndnes, and moued 
 about the same roudnes, comprehendeth and holdethe the 
 rowndnes therof by the partes therof. Also the outewarde 
 sensys, beholdeth the manne him selfe after one maner, imagi- 
 nation after another maner, reson after another sorte, and the 
 deuine intellygence or vnderstandynge, beholdeth hym farre 
 otherwyse. For the outewarde sensys as the eyes, iudgeth the 
 fygure or fashion of the man, as it is made in the mater subiecte 
 or sensyble. But the imaginacion decernythe the fygure of the 
 man withoute anye matter. But reson passeth also imaginacion, 
 and wayeth or considereth by vniuersal c5sideracion the same 
 kind and nature of man, that is in all perticuler partes, naturallye. 
 But the eye of intellygence, or vnderstandynge is hygher, for it 
 passeth the vnyuersall compasse, and beholdethe wyth the syght 
 of pure thoughte, the selfe same symple and pure forme of man 
 perdurable. In whyche thynges, that is to saye, in the sayde 
 vertues of knoledge, this ought to be specyallye consydered, that 
 the hyghe strengthe for to comprehend thynges coprehendeth 
 in it selfe the lower strength. But the lower strength can ryse 
 ,by no meanes vnto the hygher strengthe, soo that it may com- 
 prehend the same. Nor certes the sensys of the eye or wyte, 
 can comprehend any thing without some matter subiecte, nor the 
 imaginacion beholdethe the kyndes vnyuersall, nor reason taketh 
 the symple or pure form as intelligence doth. But intelligence 
 dyuyne as a thynge that loketh aboue or hath respecte to a 
 hygher thynge, after it hath conceyued the fourme, it iudgeth 
 and decerneth certaynelye all thyngs that be vnder the fourme, 
 that is to say, all thynges y be in man. But yet it compre- 
 hendeth or knoweth the same forme after such maner, y it 
 can not be knowen to any of y lower powers, y is to say, to the 
 reson, imagynacion, or wit. For it knoweth the vniuersall reson 
 or fourme, the figure of imaginacion, and the sensyble matter 
 
 128 
 
conceyued by wyt, and vseth nether reason nor imaginacion nor 
 wit outward but beholdeth all thynges formallye (as a man 
 would saye) by one instante thought of the mynd, without any 
 dyscurse or circumstaunce. And reason (when it beholdeth anye 
 thynge vnyuersall) vsethe nether imaginacion, nor outewarde wyt, 
 yet it comprehendeth thynges imaginable and sensible. For 
 this reason is the thyng that defyneth the vniuersal thyng, of 
 the thing conceyued thus. Man is a two fotedde beast and 
 resonable, whych knowlege when it is vnyuersall, yet euerye 
 man knoweth that man is a thyng imagynable and sensyble. 
 Whych thing reason considereth not, by imaginacion, or wytte, 
 but by a reasonable conceyuynge thereof. And also imagina- 
 cion (although it taketh begynning of wit to see and to make 
 dyuers fygures, of thynges) yet it knoweth all thynges, sensyble 
 wythout the wyt, not by sensyble reason of iudgynge, but by 
 reason, imagynable. Seyst thou not therfore that all thynges, 
 in knowyng doo vse rather theyr owne proper facultye and 
 power, then the power or faculte of thynges, that be knowen. 
 And that not without cause. For when euerye iudgement 
 is the acte of hym that iudgeth, it behoueth that euery man 
 performe hys worke and purpose, not by any forayne or straunge 
 power or facultie, but by his owne proper power, and strength. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 There was some tyme a gate or entre, that is to saye, a cytye 
 called Athence, that brought vp old men, that is to say : philo- 
 sophers, Stoicians, that were very darke or obscur in theyr 
 sentences, the whyche Stoicians thought that reason and imagi- 
 nacion of sensyble thynges, were imprynted in mens mindes, 
 from the outward bodyes of thynges, after the fashyon as the 
 maner is sometyme, whe a man in wrytyng with a swyft pen, do The powers of 
 make letters in a playne and clene pagin or leafe of paper or t a ct y s f °" 1 i r be 
 perchement, that had no wrytynge therein before. But if the doynge and 
 mynde hauynge full strengthe doth nothyng, or hath no power, "° suffryngal 
 in it selfe, but onely lyeth sufifrynge and subiect to the symyly- thoughe they 
 tudes and impressions of outewarde bodyes. And yf it repre- dull vntyl they 
 sent the vayne imaginacions of thynges, as ymages apperynge ^twarde by 
 in a glasse that men do vse to loke in. thynges. 
 
 From whence commethe thys knowledge in our myndes, that 
 
 129 S 
 
The mynde, 
 or wyt is pas- 
 siue by reson 
 of possible 
 vnderstanding 
 and yet more 
 actiue in vn- 
 derstanding 
 then passiue 
 of outeward 
 bodys, and 
 the cause of 
 vnderstadings 
 oughte not to 
 be attrybuted 
 to outewarde 
 thinges : as 
 the Stoicience 
 thoughte and 
 intended. 
 
 decerneth al thynges and beholdeth al thynges pertyculerlye ? 
 Or whence is the strength of our myndes that deuydeth al 
 knowen thynges and gatherethe together thynges that be 
 deuyded ? And from whence commeth the power that choseth 
 both wayes, that is to say : to ioine and to deuyde ? Or whence 
 is the power that otherwhyles lifteth up our hed or mynde to 
 hygh thynges, and otherwhyles goethe downe or fallethe into 
 inferior and lowe thynges, and at the last when it sheweth it 
 selfe as it is, repreueth and confuteth false thynges, with true 
 thynges ? Thys strength of the mynde is the cause more efficiente 
 or actyfe, whych is farre stronger then the cause pacient or 
 sufferyng, and receyueth more the fygurres and similytudes of 
 the matter imprynted in it, then the cause that suffreth, or 
 pacient. 
 
 Neuertheles some passion of the mind in a quyke lyuelye 
 bodye, goeth before the operation, of the same mynde, steryng 
 and mouyng the power, and strength of the mynde, or wyt to 
 worke. As when the lyght stryketh or touchethe the eyes, or a 
 voice sounding in y ears, then the power of the mynde, beynge 
 stered vp, callynge vnto lyke mouynges, the kyndes of thynges, 
 that it holdeth within it selfe, applyeth and ioyneth the same 
 kyndes to the sayde outwarde Images, fygures, or symylytudes, 
 to the fourmes of things that be hyd inwardely in it selfe, that is 
 to say in the power of the wyt or mynde. 
 
 Yf mans 
 mynde in 
 knowynge, 
 foloweth her 
 owne mouyng, 
 and not the 
 mouing of the 
 thyng that is 
 knowen: moch- 
 more goddes 
 prouidence 
 foloweth her 
 owne proper 
 mouynge in 
 knowledge, 
 and not the 
 mouinge of 
 the thing that 
 it knoweth. 
 
 Philosophy. 
 
 But yf in sensyble or felynge bodyes, the obiecte, or outewarde 
 qualyties, do moue and sterre the instrumentes of the sensys or 
 wyttes, and that the passion or sufferynge of the body, goeth 
 before the vigor or stregth of the actyfe or workynge mynde, 
 which prouoketh and sterreth the acte or worke of the mynde in 
 it selfe, and exciteth and moueth the meane season the fourmes 
 of thynges that restethe within. And I say if in sensible bodies 
 the mynde is not affected or taughte by passion or sufferyng of 
 the bodye to knowe thynges, but iudgethe by hys owne proper 
 strength the passion subiecte to the bodye, much more the 
 thinges that be quyet, fre and seperate from all affectes or 
 passyons of bodyes, that is to saye : god and his aungels, do not 
 folowe in iudgyng, outwarde objects or qualities, but do per- 
 
 130 
 
fourme the acte of their mynde or thoughte withoute outward 
 obiectes. So than by this meanes or reason, many maners of 
 knowledge haue come to dyuers and sundry substaunces. For 
 the sensys or wytte beyng onely destitute or baren of other 
 knowledge, commeth to lyuyng thynges immouable, as vnto 
 oysters and such lyke shell fyshes of the sea, that be noryshed 
 cleuynge vnto rockes. But imaginacion commeth to bestes 
 moueable in whome there semeth to be some affecte or nature 
 to flee or to couette and desyre some thing. But reason apper- witte and 
 tayneth onely vnto mankynde, as intellygence or vnderstandyng imagination 
 appertaineth onely unto the deuyne nature. to reason, and 
 
 Whereby it folowethe that the same knowledge excelleth or is f eryo „j S t Q in 
 more noble (then other) that of her owne proper nature, knoweth diuyne intelli- 
 
 pens. 
 
 not onelye her selfe, but also the subiecte of all other know- _,, 
 
 J The power 
 
 ledges. But what than yf that wytte, and imaginacion doo ofthesoule 
 stryue agaynste reason, saying that the same vnyuersall thyng moosteknow- 
 that reason thynketh to see, and beholde in it selfe, is nothynge ledge is moste 
 
 excellent* 
 
 at all. For they do saye, that the thynge that is sensyble and 
 imaginable, maye not be vnyuersall. Therfore eyther the iudge- 
 ment of reason is true, and that nothynge is sensyble, or that 
 because that reason knoweth that many thynges be subiect to 
 wyt, and imaginacyon, a man would thynke that the conceyuyng 
 of reason were false and vain whyche conceyuyng of reason 
 consydereth the thynge that is sensyble and synguler, as a thyng 
 vniuersal. And yf that reason would aunswere on the contrarye 
 parte vnto these thynges, that is to saye : vnto wyt and imagi- 
 nacion, saying that she beholdeth y thing that is sensyble, and 
 the thing that is imagynable, by the meanes of vnyuersall 
 thynges, and that they, that is to say : wyt and imagynacyon 
 maye not attayne vnto the knoweledge of the thing that is 
 vniuersall by cause theyr knowledge can not passe the bodylye 
 fygures. And would also saye that for the knowledge of 
 thynges, men ought to beleue and credyte rather the more 
 fyrme and perfyt iudgement of things in stryfe. Than in suche 
 controuersy, would not we (that haue the power, as well of 
 reason as imagynation and wyt) allowe rather the cause and 
 strengthe of reason, then the power of wyt, and imaginacion ? A 
 lyke thinge it is when that mans reason thinketh that the 
 deuyne intellygence or knowledge cannot behold, and see thyngs 
 to come but after the maner as the same reason of man knoweth. 
 
 131 
 
For (as thou diddest saye) if that some thynges seme not to 
 haue certayne and necessarye chaunces, they cannenot be 
 knowen before for certayne to come. Therefore by thys meanes, 
 there is no prescience or fore knowledge of the same thynges, 
 whych prescience if we do beleue to be in these thyngs, then is 
 there nothing but commeth by necessitie. Therefore yf we 
 maye haue suche iudgemente of the dyuyne mynde or thoughte, 
 as we be partakers of reason, accordynge as we haue judged, 
 that imaginacio and wyt must geue place and be vnder reason, 
 euen so woulde we thynke that it were ryght and mete, that 
 mans reson should submyt itselfe and geue place, to the deuyne 
 If knowledg thought. Wherefore yf we may, let vs be lyft vp or let vs ryse 
 
 shouldfolow , ... . , . . , , , , , 
 
 the power of vppe by dilygente consideracion into the toppe of that hyghe 
 the thyng that dyuyne intellygence or knowledge, for there reason shall se that 
 
 is knowen and J J J ° ° ' 
 
 not the power thynge that it cannot beholde in it selfe. And that certes is, 
 thatknowefh a f ter what maner the certaine and determinable prescience or 
 then as mans fore knowledge of god, seith thinges that haue no certayne 
 
 reason, know- . * „ , , . , , , 
 
 eth vncer- chaunces to come. And thys is not an opynyon, but rather the 
 taynly thyngs s i m plicitie or purenes of the hygh knowlege of god, that is 
 
 to come : euen * L J ° ° ° ' 
 
 so shoulde the closed or shutte vppe in no boundes, that is to saye : cannot be 
 lygence. inte comprehended or compassed, for it is infynyte or without ende. 
 
 But bycause 
 gods proui- 
 
 dence passeth PHVT 090PHV 
 
 mans intelly- rtlYLUbUmV. 
 
 pence or 
 
 reason : ther- By howe greate dyuersytie of shapes and figures, do the 
 
 eth cert"™ beastes go vpon the ground. For some haue straite bodies (as 
 
 that thynge, serpentes and al crepynge wourmes) and in crepyng they turne 
 
 reaso™ a can not V P tne dust and do make a contynuall forowe or prynt therein, 
 
 attayne vnto by the strengthe of there breaste, when they crepe or slyde, as 
 
 but is vncer- \ , , , A , , , , , 
 
 tayne of. adders and snakes, or snayles. And there be other whose 
 
 wanderyng lyghtnes of there wyngs do make a noyse in the 
 ayer, in beting the wyndes, and passethe the space of the longe 
 ayer, by theyr apparaunte flying. There be other beastes that 
 delyghteth to go on the grounde and to wander eyther the 
 grene feldes or els to go vnder the woddes, and to make the 
 prynte of there fete on the ground, in goyng. All which beastes 
 although thou seyst that they do varye and dyffer in theyr 
 varyable fourms and shapes that is to saye : although they be of 
 dyuers kyndes and fashyons, yet their faces beynge bowed 
 downewarde towarde the grounde, may shewe theyr bestyall, 
 
 132 
 
heuy, and dul sences or wits. But mankynde alone lyfteth vp For as moche 
 hys hye toppe or head and being light, standeth with a vpryght ^Svp 1 ' 
 bodye and beholdeth the earth vnder hym. Therefore excepte toward hea- 
 thou beynge all worldly, arte euyll aduysed, or oute of thy my nde therof 
 ryghte mynde, the vpryght stature or fygure of thy bodye shuidnotbe 
 warneth the, or putteth the in remembraunce that thou seke heuenly cote- 
 heauen with thy vpryghte countenance, and that thou lyft vp te° n s ' h o h u i de 
 thy forehed, and beare thy minde on hie, That thy mynde or seme more 
 thought beyng ponderous, waytye or heuye, synke not downe to Jhe'soule. 
 the earth, that is to say : vnto temporal and worldly thinges, 
 whyles that thy body is lyfte vp and set soo hyghe as it is by 
 nature. 
 
 Phylosophy. 
 
 Therfore forasmuch as it is shewed a lytell before, that all that 
 is knowen, is not knowen by the nature of the thing it selfe, that 
 is knoen, but by the nature of them that knoweth, let vs 
 vnderstand (as much as it is lawfull for vs) what is the state of 
 the dyuine substauce, that we may know what is the nature of 
 the scyence or knowledge. Truely the comon iudgement or 
 opinion of all reasonable creatures, is that god is eterne, let vs 
 the consyder what is eternitie. For y shal declare openly to vs 
 bothe the dyuyne nature, and also the dyuyne science or know- 
 ledge. Therfore eternitie is the possessyon of lyfe interminable, The dyffyny- 
 being hole and all together parfytte, whiche appereth more C10n etermtie - 
 euydent by comparison of example of temporall thynges. For 
 whatsoeuer thing lyueth in tyme, the same thing beyng present, 
 procedethe and goeth fourth from thynges paste, vnto thynges 
 to come. And nothynge is establyshed in tyme, that may com- 
 prehend together the last space of hys lyfe, for it hath not yet 
 ouerturned the time of tomorow, and it hath now lost y tyme of Somethynge 
 yester daye. And truely ye Hue no more in the lyfe of thys j n e e \ e e r r ny ti e" d 
 present day then in that same mouable and transitorye moment. and the ver y 
 Therfore whatsoeuer thyng suffereth condicion or successyon of go d. 
 time temporal although it neuer began to be nor cesseth to be, Somethynge 
 
 DC CLCrilCj UTiCl 
 
 (as Aristotle iudged of the world) and although the lyfe and the in eternytie, 
 continuaunce thereof were extended or stretched forth wyth tyme s^me^term^- 
 infynyte, yet for all that it is no such thynge that by ryghte it tie, as Aun- 
 maye be iudged eternall. For it dothe not enbrace altogether besubstaunces 
 the space of hys lyfe, althoughe it endurethe infynitelye or time septate. 
 
 133 
 
Sornethynge 
 bee eterne, 
 not in eterny- 
 tie, nor be not 
 eternytie, as 
 mouing, time, 
 and the 
 worlde. 
 
 Another diffy- 
 nicion of eter- 
 nitie. 
 
 God is not 
 older (the 
 thinges y* be 
 made) by 
 quantytie of 
 time, but by 
 prosperytie of 
 pure nature 
 alone. And 
 so god is 
 before y e 
 worlde by his 
 owne pure 
 nature, and 
 not by anti- 
 quitie of tyme. 
 
 The infinyte 
 mouing of te- 
 poral thinges 
 do folowe as 
 much as they 
 may the state 
 of eternytye, 
 but it can not 
 folowitwholy, 
 for temporal 
 stat is succes- 
 syuely and be- 
 
 infinite, for it hath not the times to come that be not yet, nor 
 the times past that be done and gone. Therfore whatsoueuer 
 thyng doth comprehende and possesse together all fulnes of life 
 intermynable or without ende, to the whych nothing wanteth of 
 the future or tyme to come, nor nothing of y time past, hath 
 escaped, the same thing mai ryghtfully be called eterne. And 
 it behouethe that the same eterne thynge be alwayes presente 
 with it selfe, and myghtye or stronge alwayes to assiste it selfe, 
 wantyng nothynge, and to haue alwayes present the infynyte 
 continuance of mouable tyme. Whereof some men do thinke 
 a mysse, whyche (when they do heare y Plato thought that this 
 worlde had no begynnynge of tyme nor shuld haue any ende) 
 thought by thys meanes, the worlde to be made coeterne with 
 god the creatoure thereof. For the worlde to be ledde by lyfe 
 interminable (as Plato graunted that it was led) is one thing, 
 and to enbrace and comprehend together al the presence of lyfe 
 intermynable, is another thynge. Whyche thyng is manifeste, 
 proper, or appertaynynge to the dyuyne thoughte. For God 
 semethe not older then thynges that be made, by quantitie of 
 tyme, but rather by propertye of hys symple or pure nature. 
 For this infynite mouynge of temporall thynges folowethe thys 
 presente state of immouable lyfe, whyche is eterne. And when 
 it may not fayne or counteruayle the selfe same, and be made 
 equall to it, that is to saye : vnto god by immobilitie, but 
 wantethe the same immobilitie and decresyth or dymynysheth 
 from the simplicitie or puritie of the presence of god, into an 
 infinite quantitie of tyme to come, and of tyme past, so that 
 when it cannot posses together the hole fulnes of his life by this 
 menes, because it neuer cesseth to be, in some maner wayes, it 
 semeth somewhat to folowe or to be lyke the same thyng, that 
 it may not fulfyl, attayne vnto, nor expresse, but byndeth it selfe 
 to some maner presence of thys lytle swyft and transytorye 
 momente of tyme. The presence of thys instante tyme, for 
 because it beareth a maner ymage or similitude of the euer- 
 lasting being of god, to whatsoeuer thinges it happeth, it geueth 
 the thing that they seme to be. And for bycause the presence 
 of suche moment of tyme might not continue, it toke quyckely 
 the infinite waye of tyme by successyon. And by that meanes 
 it is made that it shuld continue the lyfe, in goyng from one 
 beyng to another, the fulnes whereof it could not enbrace and 
 
 134 
 
holde in tarying. Therefore yf we (in folowynge Plato) wyll holdeth the 
 
 put worthy and conueent names to thinges, let vs say then that ^ f^to ram 
 
 god is eterne, and that the worlde is perpetuall. Then for bycause but the state 
 
 that euerye iudgement comprehendeth y thinges that be subiect p ie e S e ™'al- ' 
 
 to it after his owne nature that is to say. accordyng to the nature waies and not 
 
 - , " J ° successyue. 
 
 ot the knowen. Then is there alwayes in god an eterne and 
 
 present state. And his scyence or knowledge, that ouer goeth 
 
 all mouynge of tyme temporall, remayneth in symplicitie, or 
 
 purite of hys owne presence, enbrasynge and compassynge the 
 
 infynyte spaces of the tyme past, and of the time to come, con- 
 
 sydereth all thyngs in his symple or pure knowledge, as though 
 
 they were nowe presentlye done. Soo than yf thou wilt way or Prouydence 
 
 consyder the prescience or fore knowledge of god, by the whych suppo^eST"* 
 
 it knoweth all thynges, thou shalt not iudge it to be prescience some thin g t0 
 
 ,,, , .... , , , - come. Prouy- 
 
 as ot thynges to come, but more rightly science or knowledge of dence sup- 
 thinges instaunt or present that neuer faylethe. Wherefore it is P° seth aU 
 
 ° r J thynges pre- 
 
 not called preuydence but rather prouydence, as establysshed sent in syghte. 
 farre of from lowe thinges, and beholdeth all thinges as it were 
 from the highe toppe of all thynges. 
 
 Therefore what askeste thou that those thynges be doone by 
 necessytie, that be apprehended in the syghte of God ? When 
 that men makethe not those thynges of necessytye that they se 
 done in there sight ? Doo thy syghte geue or inforce any neces- 
 sitie to those thynges that thou seyst present before the ? BOE. 
 No. Phi. Truelye if there be any worthy comparyson of the Al thinges to 
 deuyne sight, and of mans sight, in respecte of the thynge present, fjjj nothynge 
 as you do see somethyng in thys youre presente temporall tyme, to com ?° r 
 euen soo god seith all thynges present with his eterne sight wher- to men. 
 fore this dyuine prescience, chaugeth not the nature and pro- 
 pertye of thynges, as touching necessite or chauce of them, but 
 beholdeth such thyngs presente before hym as they shuld hap to 
 you in tyme to come, that is to say, that god seith those thinges 
 that be to come to you, as presently as you do se those thinges 
 that be done before your eyes. And he confoundeth not the 
 iudgement of thynges, but by one syght of hys thoughte he 
 knowethe thynges to come, aswell necessarye, as not necessarye. 
 In lyke manner, as when you do see bothe together, a man walke 
 on the earthe and the son ryse in the firmament, although both 
 of them be sene at once, yet you do perceyue and iudge the one 
 to be voluntarye, the other to be necessary. So than the deuyne 
 
 J35 
 
sight beholdyng all things troubleth not the qualitie of thynges, 
 by necessitie, whyche thynges be present with hym by hys 
 eternitie, but as to the condicion or succession of tyme, they be 
 to come and not present. 
 
 Whereby it foloweth that this is not an opinion, but rather 
 knowledge cofyrmed with truth, that when GOD knoweth any 
 thing to be, he knoweth well that the same thing wanteth neces- 
 sitie to be, that is to say : it is not of any necessitie to happe or 
 be. Here yf thou sayist that the same thynge, that god seith 
 to come or hap, cannot otherwyse but muste nedes come to 
 passe, and that the same thyngs that canne not chouse but come 
 to passe, muste betyde and chaunce by necessytye, and that thou 
 constrayne and bynde me to thys name or worde of necessite : 
 certes I do knowledge and confesse a thyng of perfytte truthe, 
 but scarselye any man shall attayne thereto, but the beholder of 
 the deuyne nature. For I wyll tell the that the same thinge that 
 is to come, is necessary when it is referred to the dyuyne know- 
 ledge. But when it is taken and vnderstad in his owne nature 
 and kynde, it semeth fre and clerely absolute from any neces- 
 sytie. For ther be two necessities, y one is symple, as that it is 
 necessarye that all men be mortall, and the other is condicional, 
 as yf thou knowest that any man do walke, it is necessary that 
 he do walke. For the same thinge that anye man hath knowen 
 to be, maye none other wyse be, then it is knowen to be ? But 
 thys condicion draweth not with it, the same symple necessitie. 
 For the proper nature of thys condicyonall necessitie, maketh 
 not thys necessitie, but the addyng to of the condicyon maketh 
 it. For no necessitie causeth the man to go, that goeth by hys 
 owne proper wyll, although when he goeth it is necessarye that 
 he do go. Than after the same maner if gods prouidence seith 
 any thyng presente, it behoueth by necessytie that it is so, 
 althoughe it haue no necessitie of nature. And god beholdeth 
 and seyth those thyngs that be to come the whych do procede 
 by lybertye of fre wyll, as thynges al redye present. Therefore 
 these things when they be referred to the diuyne syght, be made 
 necessarye by the condycyon, of the deuine knowledge : but when 
 they be considered by them selfe, withoute the deuyne sight, they 
 be absolute and fre from necessytie, and cesse not from the 
 libertie of theyr nature, that is to say : they haue the lybertye 
 of theyr nature. And without dought al thynges shalbe done, 
 
 136 
 
whyche god knovveth before, be to come. But certayne of them 
 do come of fre wyll, whyche although they do happen, yet they 
 lose not theyr owne nature in beyng, by the whyche (before they 
 were done) they had power not to come. What matter or differ- 
 ence is it than to saye, that thinges to come be not necessarye, 
 when for the condition of the deuine, science or knoledge, they 
 doo happen by all maner waies in the likenes of necessitie, or as 
 though they came of necessitie. This is the difference, y is shewed 
 by those thinges that I declared a lytle before, that is to say, 
 the sonne rysynge and a man goyng. Whych thinges whyles 
 they be done, cannot be vndone. Neuertheles the one of them 
 before it was done, it was of necessytye to be done, that is to 
 saye : the sonne rysynge : but not the other, that it is to say : the 
 manne goyng. Soo truelye those thinges that god hath presete, 
 without dought they be. But of them, the one, that is to say the 
 son rysynge, commeth of necessitie of thyngs. The other that is 
 to say the man goyng, commeth of power to do. Therefore haue 
 we sayde ryghte well that those thynges be necessary if they be 
 referred to gods knowledge. And if they be considered by them 
 selfe, than be they absolute or fre from the bonds of necessitie. 
 Euen so as al things that appereth to the wyt, yf thou refer it to 
 reason, it is vniuersal, if thou refer it to it self, it is singuler. But 
 yf y wylte say, it is put in my power, to chaunge my purpose, I 
 wyl auoyd gods purueians, whe I shal chaunge those things y gods 
 purueyance knew before shuld be. And I wyll saye that thou 
 mayste chaunge thy purpose, but yet because the present verytie 
 of godes prouidens beholdeth, that thou mayst chaunge it and 
 whether thou doiste chaunge it, or whether thou turnest it, thou 
 cannest not auoid the diuine prescience, or fore knowledge. Euen 
 as thou cannest not fie from the syght of the present eye, y lokyth 
 on the, although thou turne thy selfe into dyuers accions or 
 doynges, of thyne owne fre wyll. What wylte thou say now, 
 mayst thou say vnto me shal not the deuyne knoledge be, 
 chauged after my disposition, or as I am chaunged, as when I 
 will nowe this one thynge, and now another thing ? semeth not 
 the deuine knowledge like wyse to alter and chaunge her courses 
 and stedes of knowing : Boe. No forsoth. Phi. For the deuyne 
 sight goeth before al thing to come, and returneth and calleth 
 the same vnto the presence of hys owne proper knowledge, and 
 chaungeth not (as thou thinkeste) hys stedes or courses, to know 
 
 137 T 
 
now thys, and nowe that, but alwayes remaynyng stedefast with-^ 
 out chaungynge, seith before and comprehendeth at one twyncke- 
 lyng of an eye, al mutacions or chaunges. Whych presence of 
 gods syght to enbrase and se all thyngs, god hath not receyued 
 of y chaunce of thinges to come, but of hys owne proper sim- 
 plicitie or pure nature. Whereby the same thing that thou 
 puttest a lytle before is assoyled, that is to say that it is not mete, 
 that our things to come be sayde to geue or bryng in the cause 
 of gods knoweledge. For this power of knoweledge enbraseth all 
 thinges, by his present knowlege hath establyshed an order vnto 
 al things, and oweth nothing to later thinges, that is to sai, hath 
 asmuch power in things to come hereafter, as in thynges present, 
 or is not in dette vnto later thyngs, for any knowledge receyued 
 by them. Which thinges beforesayde, forasmuche as they be 
 euen so, that is to say : that necessitie is not in things by dyuine 
 fore knowledge, libertie of fre wyll remayneth in all mortall men 
 not corruptenor constrayned by any meanes. And the wycked 
 lawes do not set fourth rewardes or ponyshmentes, to the wils 
 of men that be fre from al necessitie. 
 
 For k god the fore knower and beholder of all thinges from 
 aboue, and the present eternitie of his sight alwayes renneth 
 together with the future qualitie of our actes and dedes, geuing 
 rewardes vnto the good folke, and ponyshments to the wycked 
 and euyll folke. And hope and prayers be not put in god in 
 vayne, or as thynges of no force or effecte, whych when they be 
 good, iuste and ryghtful, cannot be vnfruytfull, but meritorius 
 and good. Eschew and resyst therfore vyce, folow vertue, lift 
 vp your mynde to perfyt hope, powre out your humble prayers to 
 god aboue. Greate necessitie of goodnes and rewarde is promysed 
 and appoynted for you, yf you wyll not dyssemble, but cotynue 
 faythfull true and obedient vnto almyghty god, when you do al 
 thinges before the eies of the iudge, that is to saye : before GOD, 
 that seith all thinges. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Imprynted at London in Paules Churcheyarde at the sygne of the holy Ghost, 
 
 by Ihon Cawoode, Prynter to the Kynge and Quenes Maiesties. 
 
 Cum friuilegio ad imprimendum solum. 
 
 133 
 
CHISWICK PRESS : — CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.