<B CEBOETH2>
<Q E2 XX PHILO BOETHEL>
<N BOETH2 ELIZ>
<A ELIZABETH I>
<C E2>
<O 1570-1640>
<M X>
<K X>
<D ENGLISH>
<V PROSE>
<T PHILOSOPHY>
<G TRANSL>
<F LATIN>
<W WRITTEN>
<X FEMALE>
<Y 40-60>
<H HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J INTERACTIVE>
<I X>
<Z X>
<S SAMPLE X>


[^ELIZABETH I.
TEXT:  BOETHIUS.
QUEEN ELIZABETH'S ENGLISHINGS OF BOETHIUS,
DE CONSOLATIONE PHILOSOPHIAE, A. D. 1593,
PLUTARCH, DE CURIOSITATE,
HORACE, DE ARTE POETICA (PART), A. D. 1598.
EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY, O.S. 113. 
ED. C. PEMBERTON.
LONDON, 1899.
PP. 57.1 - 60.81    (SAMPLE 1)
PP. 61.1 - 65.116   (SAMPLE 2)
PP. 65.1 - 68.98    (SAMPLE 3)
PP. 84.1 - 88.141   (SAMPLE 4)
PP. 91.1 - 96.193   (SAMPLE 5)^]

<S SAMPLE 1>
<P 57>
[}IX. PROSE.}]

   "Hitherto hit sufficeth to shewe the forme of gileful        #
felicitie,
wiche if you Clirely beholde, the ordar than must be to
shewe you the true." "Yea I se," quoth I, "that ynough
suffiseth not riches, nor Power kingdomes, nor honor dignities,
nor glory the prising, nor Joy the pleasure." "Hast thou
gathered the cause of this?" "Methinkes I see hit as by a rife
slendarly, but do desire plainliar of the` to knowe hit." 
"Ready is the reason. Whan that wiche vnmixt and by nature
vnparted is, that humaine error partz, and from the true and
right to falz and wanting brings. Dost thou suppose that
<P 58>
nothing he wantes that powre needes?" "I think not so."
"Truly thou hast sayde, for if ought be that is of weakist
worth, must needly neede som others help." "So it is," said I.
"Therfor the one & self same is nature of sufficiency & powre."
"So it seemes." "But that ther is such thing, dost thou think
it to be despised or wourthy all regarde?" "This is not to be
doubted." "Let vs ad to this sufficiency, powre, reuerence,
that these three we may Judge one." "Let it be, for trouth
we wyll confesse." "Dost thou think this any obscure matter
or ignoble, or of more show than any other dignitie? But        #
consider
lest it be graunted that that needes not, is most of
powre, & worthyest most honour, yet wanting estimation,
which to it self it can not giue, And therfore may seeme in som
parte to be lesse wourth. We can not but graunte that this is
most reuerenced. Then it followes, that we confesse a show
of glory doth nothing differ from the other three." "Yt
followes," quoth I. "Tham that that needes none other, that
doth all of his own strength, that is beautifulst & most
reuerenced: Is it not playne, that so is most pleasing to? I
can not imagine, how to such a man any sorow can happen,
wherfore necessarily it must be confest, that he is full of     #
Joye,
if the forenamed remayne. And by all this it needfully
follows, that theffecte of sufficiency, powre, honour,          #
Reuerence,
plesure, be diuers names, in substance nothing differs. That
that is then one & symple by nature, humayn synne dispersith;
And in seeking to obtayne such thing as wantith
partes, myndith the same to gett, And so nether gettes that
portion that is none, nor that partie that desyres none." "How
may this be so?" quoth I. "He that seekith riches by shunning
penury, nothing carith for powre, he chosith rather to
be meane & base, & withdrawes him from many naturall
delytes, lest he lose the monny that he gat. But that waye,
he hath not ynough, who leves to haue, & greeues in woe,
whom neerenes ouerthrowes & obscurenes hydes. He that
only desyres to be able, he throwes away riches, despisith
<P 59>
plesures, nought esteems honour nor glory that powre wantith.
but how many thinges these men lackes, thou seest. Somtyme
he lackes that necessary is, so as his want doth byte him, &
whan he can not throwe of this, that most he sought,
hability he wantes. Thus may we reason of honour, glory,
& plesure. For if all these thinges weare ioynd togither,
yf any one were had without the rest, he can not gett that
he requires." "What then?" quoth I. "Yf any man all this
can gett, shall he haue the greatest felicitie, shall he fynde  #
her
in these that we haue shewed yo=u=, promise more than they
giue?" "Not so," quoth I. "In such thinges as ech man
desyres to excell in, the true blesse is neuer to be found."
"I confesse it," quoth I, "Than this nothing can be true."
"Thou hast," quoth she, "heere a forme of false felicitie &
the cause. Turn thy selfe now to the contrary syde of the
mynde, for ther shal thou see strait way the true that I
promysd." "This euin to a blinde man is playne," quoth I,
"and to a litle afore thou showedst, In opening the faulse      #
cause.
For els I am deceaued, that is the true & parfet felicitie that
makith man content, mighty, reuerenced, honord, & pleasant.
And that thou mayst know, I haue inwardly lookt which of
all these might trulyest all exceede. This I confesse to be     #
true
bliss, that is without a doubte." "O scholler myne, happy art
thou for this opinion, yf thou wilt ad one thing withall."
"Whats that?" quoth I. "Dost thou think that ought in
mortall & fleeting thinges can make such a state?" "No,"
quoth I, "That thou hast showde sufficiently, as nothing more
doth neede. For these thinges as pictures of true good, seeme
to giue som imperfet good to mortall men; but the true &
perfet, bring they can not. Because thou knowest now, what
be the true good, & what belyeth the true blisse, now it
followith, that thou mayst knowe whence thou mayst ask the
<P 60>
true." "That is hit," quoth I, "I haue long lookt for. But
as Plato in his Timee wills, that we should ask for divine
help in meanest maters, what now thinkest thou to be don,
wherby we may merite to fynde the seate of greatest good?"

<S SAMPLE 2>
<P 61>
[}X. PROSE.}]

   "For that now thou hast seene the forme of imperfett, &
true good, Now I think to shewe the` by what the perfection of
this felicitie is made. In which first this I think to be
inquyrd of, whither any such good ther be, as thou hast
defynd a lyttle afore, among natures woorkes, leste a vayne
imagination of thought deceaue us wyde from the truthe of
that we talke of. And to proue it so, It can not be denyed
<P 62>
that this is the fountayne of all good thinges. For all that
we call imperfett, is shewed such by the definition of          #
perfection.
So haps it, that if in any thing ther be imperfection,
In the self same, somthing must needes be that can be perfett.
For perfection taken away, we can not ymagyne what that is
that is imperfect. For Nature tooke not her begynning of
thinges diminished & worne, but of hole & absolute, &
so cam downe into thes barren & uttermost partes. And
if, as a little before I told yo=u=, there be imperfect         #
felicitie of a 
frayle good, It can not be doubted but that ther is a solide
& parfet one." "This is sure, and truly concluded." "But
wher this dwellith," quoth she, "In this wise consider. The
common conceite of mens myndes allowes, that God of all
thinges the Ruler, is good hit self. For when nothing can
be imagined better than himself, who can doute that that is
the best, whom nothing can better? For so doth reason shew
that God is good, that is won to confesse he is the perfect
good. For without such he were, the Prince of all thinges he
could not be: for so much the rather doth he possess            #
perfection,
that he was the first & aboue all: for the perfetest doo
show them sellves first afore the lesser sorte. and lest our    #
reason
should neuer haue end, we must confesse that the greate God
is indued with the wholle & perfett good. And we doo saye
that true blisse consistes in perfection, we must then          #
conclude,
that true felicitie is in the greatest god." "I take it so,"
quoth I, "nether can any thing gayne say it." "But, I pray
the`," quoth she, "Looke how proonest thou that most holyly &
without spot, that we say God is the full perfection of         #
greatest
good?" "How shall I prooue this," said I? "Presume not to
think that the father of all thing[{s{] haue taken this great   #
good
with which he is fulfilld eyther of outward cause or naturall,
in ymagining a diuers substance of him that hath the obtaynid
felicitie. For if from outward cause thou supposest
he has taken, thou mightest than think that better, than he
that gaue. But most worthely we confess that he excellith
<P 63>
all. Yf Nature haue done any thing in him, & in a diuers
sorte, when we speake of God the guyder of all thinges, who
can imagine to haue Joynd all these diuersities? Last of all,
that that differs from any thing, that cannot be the same
that is not hit. Wherfore that is contrary from the greatest
good that can not be hit selfe, which were sacrilege to think
of God, whom nothing can exceede. For nothing in Nature
can be better than her begynning. Wherfore that was the first
of all, in his own substance by a right argument I conclude the
greatest good." "Rightly," quoth I. "But it is graunted that
the greatest good is blesse." "So it is," quoth I. "Therfore,
it needes must be graunted that God is blisse it selfe. Nether
can the foresaid reasons fayle me, & by them I finde the        #
consequence  
true." "See," quoth she, "whither this be not more
truly prooued, for that twoo greatest goodes diuers in them
selves can neuer be. Therfore goodes that differs, One can
not be that the other is, for none of them can be perfect,
whan in both there lackes. Then that that is not perfecte, is
playne can not be the greatest good. By no meanes therfore
can they be greatest good that be dyuers. Wherfore we
gather that bliss & God be the greatest good, which makes
that the greate Diuinity is the greatest bliss." "Nothing can
be concluded," quoth I, "nor in it self more true, nor by
reaason more stable, nor for god wourthyer." "In these causes,
as Geometricians be wont to doo, demonstrations propounded,
They bring in somthing which they call [^GREEK OMITTED^] . So   #
will I
give the` somthing as a breefe gathering. For since men be
blissed by getting of felicitie, & felicitie is Diuinitie, It   #
concludes,
that by getting of Diuinity men be blessed. For 
as Just men be made by getting Justice, & wyse men by
wisdom, So men getting Diuinity, by lyke reason are made
lykest to God. So euery blessed man, is in a kinde a God, but
in nature one, in participation many may be. Most fayre
& precious is this, which yo=u= call your [^GREEK OMITTED^] ,   #
or your
Collection. And so much is it the fayrer, that naturall
<P 64>
reason it self perswades yo=w= thus to ioyne them." "What of
that?" said I. "When blissidnes conteynes many thinges in
hit, whither be all the partes of this gatherd in one, as by
varietie deuided, conioyned, or is ther som thing els, that     #
fullfills
the fulnes of bliss, & to this all the rest is referd." "I
wold thes thinges were explaned," quoth I, "as by a memoriall."
"Dost thou not think blisfulnes good?" "Yea the greatest,"
quoth I. "This all will graunte. for it is the only             #
sufficiency,
the only powre, reuerence, beauty, delyte. What tho? all
these good thinges, sufficiency, powre, all be but lyms of      #
blissidnes.
Be all thinges referd to good as to the Top?" "I know,"
quoth I, "what thou propoundest to seeke, but what thou
determynest, to heare I desyre." "Take this division of this
sorte. Yf all these were partes of blisse, then should they     #
differ
in themsellves. For this is the nature of partes, that deuided
they make a hole body, & all these thinges we haue shewed
be one, Then they are not partes, or els bliss should seeme to
be made of one parte, which can not be." "This doute I not,
but that that remayns I attend. For to the greatest, all the
rest of goodes must needes be referd. For therfore sufficiency
is desyrd, that good it is supposd, & powre in like manner:
so may we gesse of reuerence, honour, & delyte. For the
somme of all desyred thing[{s{] is good. That neyther in hit
self nor in his lyke retayns any blisse, that no man ought
desyre. And contrary, those that by nature be not good, if
they seme to be, as true good be desyrd. So is it, the greatest
good, by right ought be beleeuid, the grownd work &
cause of all desyred. The cause for which we wish ought,
that most we desyre, as yf for helthes sake to ryde we
desyre, we seeke not more the styrre of the exercise, than the
good effecte of our helth. When than all thinges be desyrd
for greatest good, we desyre not those thinges more than good
it self. And that we graunt, that all thinges be desyrd to
obtayne blisse, So we conclude she is only to be sought:
wherby it playnly appeeres that one only is the substance of
that is good & blisfull. I see no cause why any man
<P 65>
should doute heerof. And God we haue showed to be the
only & alone good. So may we safely conclude that Godes
substance is in that good & none other concluded."

<S SAMPLE 3>
<P 65>
[}XI. PROSE.}]

   "I graunt," quoth I: "for eche thing with strongest reason
linked is." "How muche, woldz thou prise hit, if the tru
<P 66>
good thou couldst knowe." "At how infinite rate, for so
shuld I obtaine to knowe what God wer." "And this with
truest reason I wyl expres, if it be grauntid that afor was
sayd." "Be it so." "Haue not we showed, that those
thinges that be desyrd of many, therfore are not perfect &
good, because they differ among themselves, So as where any
want ther is of one thing to an other, than can no playne nor
resolute good com? But then is good ther true, when they
are gathered in one forme & performance, that what suffisith
may haue powre, reverence, honour & delyte, for without all
these be in one, a man hath nought that ought to be esteemd."
"This is euident," quoth I, "& no man neede to doubte therof,
for those that, when they disagree, be not good, when they
are one, must needes be so." "But are not all these thinges
made good by getting of a true vnity?" "Yes, sure," said I.
"But all that is good, dost thou suppose it good thorow the
participating of that is so?" "Yes." "Then needes it must
be that that is only good that is euer one. for the substance   #
is
the same of ech man, whose effectes naturally they haue." "I
can not deny it." "All that is so, long must last & holde
togither, as it is one, but must needes perish & decay, whan
so it leaves to be; as in beastes we see, when they ingender,
& be made of lyfe & body, then it is a Creature. But
when this vnitie makes a separation, then they are deuided,
perish & decay. This body allso when hit remayns in one
forme & joyntes of lyms, then humayn shape is seene. But
if distract or partid in twoo they be, then they leave their
vnitie which made them be. In that sorte, all the rest shall
be playne to the sercher, that euery thing shall last while it
is one, but when it leaves that order, it perishith. When I
haue considered many thinges I find no other thing." "Ys
ther," quoth I, "any thing that naturally, leaving desyre of
lyfe, wischith to com to ruine & an end?" "In beastes           #
themsellves
that haue som kynde of will to fly or not, I fynde yf
<P 67>
men compell them not, they will not cast away their mynde of
lasting, and hye them to the way of destruction. For ech
best I finde studys safety to keepe, & shunnith death &
decay. I can not tell what I may say of herbes, of trees, of
rootes. I may doute, And yet ther is no greate cause, when
we see the trees & herbes reviue agayn in their fittist
place, that as much as nature will permitt, they may not 
soone dry & dye. Som in feldes, som on hills doo spring,
others marish beare, others stick to stone, som prosper on
barren sand, which if any man pluck vp to sett in other
place, they wither. So Nature giues to ech that him becoms,
& stryves that while they may remayne, they may not end.
What shall I say? that som we see of them, as hauing turnd
their top to earth, draw nourishment to the roote, & by
their sap, spredes strength & bark? What, yea! that that 
is most soft, as were the marrow, is euer hyd in innermost
rynde, without couerd by strength of som wood, but the          #
vttermost
bark against the heauens wether, as sufferer of harme,
is set a defendour? Now how greate is Natures diligence,
that all thinges be inlarged by most seede, which all, no
man is ignorant, not only for a tyme of remayning perpetually
stryues to remayn? Those thinges that only haue life,
doo they not euer by a naturall instinct desyre their own?
Why does lightnes draw vp the flame, & waight, the earth
dounward drawes, but that all these agrees in their place &
in their own motion? And that agrees that euer is conserued:
as those thinges that discorde doth corrupte. Those thinges
that of Nature be hard, as stones, they stick most fast to      #
their
own roote, & so resist as easely they be not pluckt of.
The fleeting thinges as ayre & water, these easely be departed,
<P 68>
but quickly return from whence they were drawen.
But fyre refusith all separation. We doo not talk now of the
volontary motions of the soule of man, but of the naturall 
intent by nature given. As our meate we take without great
study, & breth we drawe in our slomber when we know it
not. For in very beastes, the desyre of contynuance, not of
their lyves pleasure, but of their natures begyning procedith.
For oft tymes our will imbracith death, cause compelling, which
nature dreades, & contrarywise desyre of making our lyke,
wherby contynuance doth endure, our wills som tymes keeps
vs from that nature desyres. Wherfore this loue of our selfes
proceedes not of a Creatures notion, but of a naturall intent. 
For Godes prouidence hath giuen to all thinges that be made
the desyre of remayning, that as long they may, naturally they
will byde. So needes thou neuer doute that such thinges as
naturally desyre an abode will shun destruction." "I confesse
it," quoth I, "for now I plainly see such thinges as doutfull I
found, that couetes euer to be one, that couetes to remayn:"
"& last this being taken awaye nothing can abyde. An vnity
therfore all desyre. And one we haue showed that is only
good. Since therfore ech thing seekith the good, it is playne,
that is only the good that of all is desyred." "Nothing," quoth
I, "can trulyer be thought. for eyther all thing shall com
to nought, and as wanting a head, without a guide shall ruyne,
or yf any thing ther be, to which all hastes, that shall be the
somme of all best." "O scholler myne," quoth she, "I ioye
that I haue fixd in thy minde one marke of meane to truth,
and heerby mayst thou see a little before thou sayedst
thou knewest not." "What is that?" quoth I. "What was
of all thing the end. For that is it that of all men is most
sought, wiche by caus we suppose only good is hit, therfore
we confesse that to get is all owre end."

<S SAMPLE 4>
<P 84>
[}IV. PROSE.}]

   "I see," quoth I, "that vicious men haue no wrong, tho they
be said by property of their mynde to beastes be transformd,
tho in show they kepe the forme of humayn body. And yet I
<P 85>
wold not haue, that the cruell & wicked mynde should be
sharpnid by the fall of good men." "Neyther is it," quoth
she, "as in convenyent place I will showe. And yet if that
were taken away from them that they are beleeued to haue,
the wickedst payne should be in greatest parte releeuid. For
that that may perchance seeme impossible, hit must needes be
that wicked men be vnhappyer, when they haue fulfild their
desyres, than if they could not get what they wish. For if a 
wretched thing it be to wysh that is nought, it is much more
wretched to doo it. Whithout which the desyre of a wretched
mynde wold fall. Wherfore when ech man hath his own
misery, it must needes be, that by tryple misfortune, they be
vexed, whom thou dost see haue a will to doo the worst." "I
graunte it," quoth I, "And yet that quickly they might want
this misfortune, I wish them depriued of possibilitie to doo    #
mischeefe."
"They shall want it," quoth she, "sooner perchaunce
than eyther thou woldest, or they themselves think they may. 
For neyther is any thing so long in the short mesure of our
lyfe, that an immortall mynde may suppose to tarry to long:
whose greate hope & hye woork of mischefe oft is destroyde
by an vnlookt for & souden end, which settes an end to
their misery. For if iniquitie make men miserable, he must
be more wicked that longer lastes: whom most vnhappy I
should judge, if their last death might not end their woe.
For if we conclude the truth, of wickednes misfortune, infinite
must we suppose that misery that is euerlasting. Wonderfull
thinges," quoth I, "is this declaration & hard to be graunted,
but I know them to well agree to such thinges as before haue
bene exprest." "Rightly dost thou think," quoth she: "and
who so thinkes a hard conclusion is made, it were reson he
should showe, that ther hath bene som falshod in the            #
proposition, 
or that the tyeng of their argument bootith not for a 
necessary conclusion. Or els all the abouesaid graunted, ther   #
is
no cause to cauill in the subsequent. For this that I saye,
not only seems not wonderfull, but, by such thinges as are
alledged, most necessary." "What?" quoth I. "I saye that
happyer be wicked men whan they suffer punishment, than
<P 86>
those whom no payne of Justice touchith? Nether mynd I
now to speake of that every man thinkes, That wicked conditions
being corrected by revenge & brought to the right way
by terrour of their prison, to other men may serue for example
to shun theyr faultes. But in other sorte I suppose the wicked
vnhappy, tho ther were no cause of correction to make them
vnpunished, nor no respecte of ensample." "What should this
other way be?" "Haue we not said afore, that good men be
lucky & euill men miserable?" "So it is." "Yf therfore som
goodnes chaunce to misery, is it not much more happyer for
him, than if his misery were alone by it self, without any
goodnes mixture?" "So it seemes," quoth I. "But yf to that
miserable man that wantes all good thinges, that euill be added
to him to be alone, is he not much more to be accompted
vnhappy, whose mysfortune is showed him thorow the              #
participation
of som good?" "What els?" "Therfore wicked men,
when they are punisht, haue som good joyned with it, that is
their punishment, which for Justice sake is in it self good.
And they whan they want their correction, ther is som thing
besides of euill, which is, want of punishment, which deserue
ably thy self hast confest is the greatest yll Iniquitie can    #
haue. 
More vnhappy therfore are wicked folkes, whan they want
their punishment, than when they receaue their iust reward.
For greatest iniquitie is committed, when Just men be vexed,
& wicked slip from their reward." "Who can this denye?"
"Wherfore, ech man must needes graunte, that all that is
good, must needes be iust, & yll that is the contrary."
"These be such thinges needes must follow the aboue concluded.
But I pray the`," quoth I, "shall there be no soules
punishment after the dead body?" "Very greate," quoth she,
"of which som be vsed by bitter paynes, other by a pacifieng
Clemency. But now my mynde is a little of these thinges to
dispute. For this hitherto we haue don, that thou mightest
knowe the vnworthy powre of euill men is none at all. Euin
such as thou complaynedst were voyde of punishment, that
<P 87>
thou mightest see they neuer want the payne of their wickednes,
And that the liberty which thou wisshest should be
ended, thou mightest learne not to be long, And so much
more vnhappy, if longer, most vnlucky, yf eternall. And
then I sayd that wicked folkes were more miserable, shunning
their Just payne, than punisht with their right revenge.
So follows it true with my opinion, That then they are
greeuid with sorest punishmentes, whan they are supposd less
plagued." "Whan I consider thy reasons," said I, "I can
suppose nothing more true. But if I turne me to mans Judgement,
who is he, to whom not only these thinges will not seeme
to be beleeuid but scar[{c{]ely to be herd?" "So it is," quoth
she. "For they can not, that haue vsed their eyes to darknes,
lyft them vp to the light of a cleere trowth, & lyke they
be to such byrdes, whose sight the night dooth cleere, & day
darkens. For while they beholde not the order of thinges,
but their own affections, they suppose the liberty and lack of
payne, for their faultes, the happiest. But now looke what
the euerlasting light makith. Yf to best thou doo apply thy
mynde, thou shalt neede no iudge to defer thy rewarde, Thou
thy self hast ioyned the` to the Excellency. Yf thou turn thy
indeuors to worsse, beyond thy selfe seeke no revenger. Thou
thy self to worst hast throwen the`, & lookest to heauen
& clayey earth by fittes, when all outward thinges fayles
the`, by thyne owne reason shalt perceaue, the difference
between Sky & Claye. But the vulgar cares not for this.
What tho? Shall we speake of such thinges now as shewes
men most lyke beastes? What yf a man losing his sight hath
forgotten that euer he had it, shall he suppose he lackes
nothing of a mans perfection? Shall we suppose these men, tho
they see, to be blynde? They will not leave so, But will with
certain grownd of reson know, that they are more vnhappy
that do wrong, than those that suffer it?" "I wold fayne know
these reasons," said I. "Thou dost not deny, a wicked man is
wourthy of all payne?" "I deny it not." "You think to, they
are vnhappy that diuers wayes are wicked. Such as are
worthy punishment, therfore no doute are miserable?" "It
<P 88>
agreeith well." "Yf therfore thou satest as a Judge, on whom
woldst thou inflict the payne? eyther on him that made or
suffred the wrong?" "I doute not but that I wold satisfy the
sufferer by the punishment of the Actor." "Then wretcheder
is the maker, than the Receauour." "It is reason." "For this
& many other causes all hangyng on one roote, hit appeers that
synne of his owne nature, makes men wretched, And that
injury is not the receauers misery but the giuers. But Orators
doo otherwise. They go about to mooue commiseration of the
iudges for them that haue commytted som greate & cruell
thing, when rather a juster commiseration ought to be had
of such as be not brought by irefull accusers, but by such as
themselves beemones & takes compassion of, as tho they
wold bring the sick to the phisician, & cut of the disease
by the false punishment. By which eyther the endeuour of
the defendors should coole, or if it should proffitt them, must
be turned into the forme of the accusation. But wicked men,
yf they see any but a small clift wher vertue is to be seene,
where wicked vice they may put of, by paynes cruelty, vnder
coulour of recompensing vertue, will not call this cruelty, but
will refuse their defendors labour, & giue themselves wholly
to the accusers & Judges. So as wise men haue no place
left them for hate. For who but a very foole will malice a
good man? And who but he that lackes reson, will not hate
the yll? For, as the bodyes sicknes, so is vice the myndes
disease: euin as we suppose that sick men deserve not hate
but commiseration, so ought they not be persecuted but
pitied whose mynde than all sicknes bytterer, Iniquitie hath
besieged."   

<S SAMPLE 5>
<P 91>
[}VI. PROSE.}]

   "So it is," said I; "but since thy office it is to vnfold    #
the
cause of hidden maters, & expresse reasons hid vnder
shade, I besech the`, to looke on this, & for that this miracle
doth most vexe me, teache it me." Then she, smyling a little:
"You call me to a matter that all men chefely seek, to whom
scacely suffisith to taste alone. For it is such a mater that
one dout cut of, inumerable others as Hydras heades increase;
nether euer will ther be an end, vnles a lyuely fyre of the
mynde doo bynde it. For in this mater, we inquire of the
purenes of Prouidence, of the succession of Chaunce, of
hapning Luckes, of knowledge & predestination of God,
& of our free will, which of how greate burden all these be,
thy self canst waye. But because this is som portion of thy
medecin to know these thinges, tho we be wrapt in a strayte
lymite of tyme, yet we will stryue somwhat to determyne.
For if thou delyte in a musicall song, thou must differ a       #
little
thy delyte, while I doo tune in order the Reasons knyt          #
togither."
"As please yo=u=," said I. 

<Q E2 XX PHILO BOETHEL>
<N BOETH2 ELIZ>
<A ELIZABETH I>
<C E2>
<O 1570-1640>
<M X>
<K X>
<D ENGLISH>
<V PROSE>
<T PHILOSOPHY>
<G TRANSL>
<F LATIN>
<W WRITTEN>
<X FEMALE>
<Y 40-60>
<H HIGH>
<U X>
<E X>
<J X>
<I X>
<Z X>

<P 91>
Then as begynning of an
other theme, thus she disputed: "The creation of all thinges,
& the disposing of mutable Natures, & what euer by any
meane is mooued, getes the cause, order, & forme of Godes
mynde, stabilitie. And this sett in the top of her Purenes,
appoyntes a sondry manner for ech action: which order, when
it is beheld in the very cleerenes of diuine vnderstanding, is
named (^Prouidence^) . But when it is referd to those thinges
that hit moouith & disposith, of the Auncientes it is called
(^Desteny^) : which easely shall appeer [{to be{] divers, yf a  #
mans
<P 92>
mynde will see the efficacy of both. For Prouidence is Godes
pleasure, appoynted by him that all rulith & all diposith.
But Desteny is the disposing of causes joynd to remoouing
causes, by the which Prouidence knittith all thinges by her
orders. For Prouidence includith all, whither they be diuers
or infinite, but Desteny deuideth euery thing according to her
motion, distributing it to place, to forme, & tyme: that this
deuiding of temporall order joyned to the diuine pleasure may
be made Prouidence, But that joyning, being seuerd &
deuided into tymes, that is Fate. Which tho they be sondry,
yet they depend one of an other. For fatall order proceedith
of Prouidence purenes. For as a craftes man, conceauing in
his mynde the forme of a woork, causith him to end, & that
which he hath plainly & presently foreseene, he ordrith by
tymes rule: so God by his Prouidence singularly & stable
disposith all thinges to be don. But by desteny so devided,
aboundantly & in his due season workes it. Whither Desteny be
exercised by familiar Spirites that serues for Godes            #
Providence,
or whither the fatall work be knytt by the soule alone, or
Nature seruing in parte therto, or celestiall courses of the
heavens, or by Angelicall powers, or by sondry industry
of Spirites, or by som of these, or by all: This is most 
playne, that the forme of all thinges vnmoueable & simple is
Prouidence. But Desteny is of such thinges as the Diuine
Cleerenes disposith to be don, & makith the mooving lynk
& orderly Rule. So followes it, that all that subiect be to
fate, be vnder Rule of Prouidence, vnder whom Fate it self
down layes. But som thinges there are by Prouidence appoynted
that doo exceede Fates force. Those thinges they be
which fixed stably, next to diuinitie, exceede the Nature of
Fates mutabilitie. For as of all Circles the inmost that turnes
themselves about one rounde, coms neerest to the purenes of
the midst, and as a steddy stay of all that rolles about, doth
circuite the same, but the vttmost by wyder bredth rolled, the
more hit goes from the vndeuided midst of the poynte, so much
the more hit is spred by larger spaces, but whatsoeuer drawith
neere & accompanith the midst, & with his purenes is
<P 93>
ruled, ceassith to be stopt or ouerrun: with lyke reason, that
furdest goes from the first intent, is wrapt in straighter
knotes of Fate. And so much the freer is any man from the
same, as neerest he doth drawe to the orderers wheele. And
yf he stick to the euerduring eternall mynde, wanting change,
he goith aboue Destenyes necessitie. For as Reason is to
vnderstanding, & that that is made, to that that is, And
as tyme to Eternity, & Circle is to the middest poynte: So
is the order of fate changeable, compared to the stable purenes
of Prouidence. For desteny moouith heauen & skye,
tempers the elementes among themselves, & turnes them
thorow diuers changes: & such thinges as be bred & dye,
renewes such by lyke generation of frutes & seedes. This
knittes actions, fortunes of men by an indissoluble lynk
of causes, which since they com all from the begynning of
an vnchanging Prouidence, it must needes be that otherwise
than so, they can not change. For so thinges be well ordred,
yf the euerlasting purenes of Godes mynde doth prescribe an
vnturning order of causes. But this Rule byndith in, thinges
mutable & rashly fleeting, by his owne steddynes. Wherby
altho to yo=u= that can not consider the order of thinges they
seeme confuse, and rombled togither, yet he that is cause of    #
all
good, directes all thing to hit. For ther is no man how
wicked soeuer, that for yll-sake, will doo ought so. Whom
tho as I haue told you afore, in seeking good, an yll errour
hath turnd, yet the order that coms from the roote of all good,
turns no man from his begynning. But what, thou wilt saye,
can be a greater confusion or a woorsse, than that aduersitie
& prosperitie happens to good men, & alyke to euill
doth hap, both wisht and hated? Doo men lyve of such
integritie of mynde, that it must needes be that they be
wicked or good, that be supposed so? For in this we see
diuers judgementes of men vary, whom som thinkes worthy
rewarde, other suppose deserue punishment. But let vs
graunte that one man may discerne the good & yll men:
Can he looke vpon the inward temper of the mynde, as well 
as of the body? The wonder is not vnlyke to him that
<P 94>
knowes not, why to men of wholle bodyes, somtymes to these
sweet thinges please, som other delyte in sowre: why sick
men som be helpt by lenitiues, som other cured by corrosiues.
But this a phisician that knowes the meane of his helth &
sicknes togither with his temper, nothing wonders at. What 
other thing is the myndes helth, than sincerity? What the
sicknes, but vice? Who other is eyther keeper of good, or
ouerthrower of yll, than the directour and phisician of our 
mynde, God himself? Who when he lookes out of the glasse
of his hye prouidence, knowith what for ech man is best.
And that he knowes is best, that he gyues him. And this is
the greate miracle of destenyes order, when it is treated by a 
skyllfull person, at which the ignorant woonder. And that
I may somwhat touche what mans Reason may comprehend
of Godes depth, in that mater that thou supposest to be most
just, & keeps greatest equalitie, it seemes all be different
from him that knowith what Prouidence is. And as our
frend Lucan sayde, the wynners cause pleased God, the woonne
Cato. For in this world what so thou seest be done beyond
hope, is the rightest order of all, And peruers is the          #
confusion
of opinion her self. But if a man haue so much manner,
that he will agree both of diuine judgement & humayne,
yet is he of his myndes strength so weake, as if any aduersitie
hap him, he will leave to prise ynnocency, by whom he could
not keepe fortune. For the wise giuer sparyth him whom he
knowes aduersity will him payre, so as he will not suffer him
labour in payne, for ought behooues him not. An other
man ther is vniuersally vertuous, holy, & next to God.
This man the diuine Prouidence judgith a wicked thing with
aduersitie to afflict, so that he will not suffer him be vext
with bodely disease. For as an excellenter than my self
sayde: 'A good man, his vertues doo inhabite him.' So it
concludes, that good men haue all thinges to rule, that
abounding iniquitie might be ruyned. To other men he
distributes certain mixtures, according to the qualitie of the 
<P 95>
mynd. Som men he stingith lest they should ouerflow into
greate felicity. Others he tosses with aduersitie, that he may
establish their myndes vertue, by patience, vse, & exercyse.
Others som to much feare, that beare they might; som other
to much despise that carry they can not. These men he
leades by woe to know themselves. Som other deserue an
honorable name with price of glorious death. Som other haue
shewed a sample to the rest, vnuincible of payne: And so doo
shew to wicked men how vnwon vertue is. Which how rightly
& in order & for their good to whom it hapt they haue bene
don, ther is no doute. For euin that eyther sorowfull or
desyred haps to the wicked folkes, proceedes of like cause.
And as for the wicked, no man wonders, for thinking them
worthy all yll: whose punishment both feares other from
faultes, & breedes their amendement on whom it is imposd:
Prosperous thinges serue for greate argument that they be
good. But what ought men iudge of such felicitie? when they
see them the servantes of the wicked. In which mater somtyme
they seeme to haue dispensation, for that som mans
nature is so headstrong & rash, that neede of necessities
cause may make him fall into a mischeefe, whom the prouiding
of monny got, might serue for remedy. But when he
lookes, his fyled conscience with faulte, & with himself
disputing of his fortune, perchance fearith that the losse      #
should
be sorowfull, of that the vse was delytefull. He will change
therfore his condition, and whyle his luck feares to lose it,   #
he
will leave his wickednes. Vnworthy gotten felicitie throwes
downe som men to deseruid ruine; som men haue leave to 
punish, that they might invre good men, & punish the yll.
For as no league ther is between the wicked & good, so can
not the euill among them selves agree. What els, when ech
man disagrees, their vices being sondry, & often doo such
thinges, which they discerne they ought not doo, after don
they be? So haps it oft, that Godes providence wourkith a 
miracle, that euill men make yll men good. For when they 
see that they suffer harm themselves by euill men, abhorring
such actors, retourne to vertues frute, while they study to be
vnlyke such as they hate. For it is Godes only powre, to 
make of euill good, when vsing them as they ought, drawes
<P 96>
from them som effect of good. For order keeps ech thing,
so as what so doth leave his assigned way of order, the self
same tho it hap to an other, falles in rule, lest in            #
Providences
kingdom, Rashnes should prevayle. 'Hard for me it is these
thinges that touche God, as all the rest, describe.' For
neyther doth it becom man to comprehend all shapes of his
woorkes, or by tongue or wit expresse. Only this may
suffise, that we perceaue that God the maker of all Nature,
disposith so of all as directes it to the good. And while he
hyes to kepe such thinges in order as he made, he dryves all
euill out of the boundes of his kingdom, by the order of a 
fatall necessitie. So it followes, that such thinges as we
beleeue the Earth to haue plenty, if we looke vpon the
direction of Providence, we shall see ther is no yll at all.
But now I see the` burdned with waight of question, &
wearyed with length of reasoning, to expecte the sweetness of
som verse. Take therfore a draught wherby refresht thou
mayst trye strong furder to go." 



