{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28338/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28338","id":"gutenberg_28338","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28338","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Teaching & Education","Education -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"Produced by Louise Hope, Greg Lindahl, Joseph Cooper and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by the Biblioth\u00e8que nationale\nde France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr)\n\n\n\n\n\n[Transcriber's Note:\n\nThis text is intended for users whose text readers cannot use the \"real\"\n(Unicode/UTF-8) version of the file. Characters that could not be fully\ndisplayed have been \"unpacked\" and shown in brackets:\n\n  [en], [em] = e with overline\n  [un], [um] = u with overline\n    i with overline does not occur\n\nThe forms \u00e3 (for an, am) and \u00f5 (for om, on) have been retained.\n\nThe text is based on scans of two different physical copies. In a few\ncases, the two versions have different spelling, or one has an error\nwhere the other does not. These are noted at the end of the file along\nwith the general list of errors and an explanation of paragraph breaks.\n\nSuperscripts are shown with carets: w^t, y^e. All pilcrows \u00b6 in the\nbody text were added by the transcriber (see endnotes).\n\nThe book was originally (1550) printed together with Richard Sherry's\n_A Treatise of Schemes and Tropes_. Since the two texts have no\nconnection except that Sherry is assumed to be the translator, they\nhave been made into separate e-texts.]\n\n\n\n\n              \u00b6 A treatise\n          of Schemes & Tropes\n            very profytable\n  for the better vnderstanding of good\n   authors, gathered out of the best\n         Grammarians & Oratours\n         by Rychard Sherry Lon\n                 doner.\n\n    Whervnto is added a declamacion,\n  That chyldren euen strayt fr\u00f5 their\n   infancie should be well and gent-\n      ly broughte vp in learnynge.\n         Written fyrst in Latin\n           by the most excel-\n                lent and\n        famous Clearke, Erasmus\n               of Rotero-\n                 dame.\n\n\n\n\n        That chyldren oughte to\n  be taught and brought vp g[en]tly in\n     vertue and learnynge, and that\n      euen forthwyth from theyr na\n       tiuitie: A declamacion of\n         a briefe theme, by E-\n            rasmus of Rote-\n                rodame.\n\n\nIf thou wilt harken vnto me, or rather to Chrisippus,\nthe sharpeste witted of Philosophers, y^u shalte\nprouide y^t thyne infante and yonge babe be forthewyth\ninstructed in good learnyng, whylest hys wyt is yet\nvoyde from tares and vices, whilest his age is tender\nand tractable, and his mind flexible and ready to\nfolowe euery thyng, and also wyl kepe fast good\nlessons and preceptes. For we rem[em]ber nothynge so well\nwhen we be olde, as those thynges y^t we learne in\nyonge yeres. [Sidenote: Diuision of y^t confutaci\u00f5]\nCare not thou for those fooles wordes which chatter\nthat thys age, partly is not hable inough to receiue\ndiscipline, & partlye vnmete to abyde the labours of\nstudies. For fyrst, the beginninges of learning, st\u00e3d\nspecially by memorie, which as I sayd, in y\u00f5g ones is\nvery holdfast. Secondly because nature hath made vs to\nknowledge the study of y^t thynge can not be to hasty,\nwherof y^e author of al thyng her self hath graffed in\nvs y^e seedes. Beside this some thinges be necessary\nto be know[en] wh[en] we be s[um]what elder, which by\na cert[en] peculier readines of nature, y^e tender age\nperceiueth both much more quickly, & also more esily\nth[en] doth y^e elder, as y^e first beginnings of letters,\ny^e knowledge of t\u00f5ges, tales & fabels of poetes.\nFinallye, why shulde y^t age be thought vnmete to\nlerning, which is apt to lerne maners? Or what other\nthinge shuld chyldr[en] do rather wh[en] they be more able\nto speake, seyng nedes thei muste do sumwhat? How much\nmore profite is it y^t age to sporte in letters, then\nin trifles? Thou wilt say y^t it is but of litle value\ny^t is done in those fyrste yeres. Why is it dispised\nas a smal thing, which is necessary to a very greate\nmatter? And why is y^t lucre, be it neuer so litle,\nyet a lucre, dispised of purpose? Now if you oft[en] put\na lytle to a litle, there riseth a greate heape.\nHerewith c\u00f5sider this also, if beyng an infant he\nlerne smaller thinges, he shalt lerne greter, growynge\nvpwardes in those yeres, in which those smaller shuld\nhaue ben lerned. Finally whyle he doth these thinges,\nat y^e least he shal be kept fr\u00f5 those fautes, wherw^t\nwe se com[en]ly y^t age to be infected. For nothynge doth\nbetter occupy y^e whole mynd of man, th[en] studies.\nVerely this lucre ought not to be set light bi. But if\nwe shuld gra[un]te that by these labours y^e strength of\ny^e body is sumwhat diminished; yet thinke I this\nlosse well rec\u00f5pensed by winnynge of wyt. For the\nminde by moderate labours is made more quicke, &\nlustye. And if ther be any ieopardy in this pointe, it\nmay be auoyded by our dilig[en]ce. You must haue for this\ntender age a teacher to enter it by fayre meanes,\n& not discorage it by foule. And ther be also some\nthings both plesa[un]t to be knowen, & as it wer sibbe to\nchildr[en]s wittes, whiche to lerne is rather a play th[en]\na labour. Howbeit childehod is not so weake which eu[en]\nfor thys is y^e more mete to take paynes & labour,\nbecause they fele not what labour is. Therfore if thou\nwylte remember how far vnworthy he is to be counted a\nm\u00e3 which is void of learning, and how stirring the\nlife of man is, how slypper youth is to myschiefe, and\nmans age howe it desyreth to be occupied, how baren\nolde age is, and further how few come vnto it, thou\nwylt not suffer thy yong babe in the whych thou shalte\nlyue styll as it were borne agayne, to let go any\nparte of hys tyme vnoccupied, in the whych any thynge\nmaye be gotten that eyther maye do muche good to all\ny^e whole lyfe afterwardes, or kepe it awaye from\nhurtes, and mischiefes.\n\n\n  The selfe same matter enlarged by copye.\n\nAfter the longe despayred fruitfulnes of thy wyfe,\nI\u00a0hearsay thou art made a father, and that wyth a man\nchylde, whyche sheweth in it selfe a meruelous\ntowardnes, and euen to be lyke the parentes: and\nthat if so be we maye by such markes and tokens\npronosticate anye thyng, maye seeme to promise perfite\nvertue. And that therfore thou doest entend, to se\nthys chylde of so grete hope, assone as he shalbe\nsomewhat of age to be begonne in good letters, and to\nbe taught in very honest learnynge, to be instructed\nand fashioned with the very wholsome preceptes of\nphilosophy. In deede you wyll be the whole father, and\nyou wyll haue hym your very son, and to loke lyke you,\nnot only in the fashion of hys face, and liniam[en]tes of\nhys bodye, but also in the giftes of hys wytte. Verely\nas I am hertelye glad for the good fortune of myne\nespeciall friende, so I greatlye alowe your wyse\nentente. This one thynge I wolde warne you of boldlye\nin deede, but louinglye, not to suffer after the\niudgemente and example of the c\u00f5mon people, that the\nfyrst age of your infante shulde flytte awaye without\nall fruite of good instrucci\u00f5, and then at the last to\nset hym to learne hys fyrste letters, when bothe hys\nage wyll not so well be handled, and hys wytte shall\nbe more readye to euyll, and peraduenture possessed\nalreadye w^t the fast holdyng bryers of vices. \u00b6 Yea\nrather eu[en] now loke about for some man, as of maners\npure & vncorrupt, so also wel learned: & into his lap\ndeliuer your litle chyld, as it wer to a nurse of hys\nt[en]der mind, that eu[en] w^t his milke he may sucke in\nswete lerning: & deuide the care of thy litle s\u00f5ne to\nhis nurses & teacher that they shuld suckun the litle\nbody w^t very good iuyce, & so indue hys mynd w^t very\nwholsom opinions, & very honest lernynge. For I thinke\nit not conuenient that y^u one of al the best learned,\n& also wysest shuldest geue care to those piuyshe women,\nor vnto m[en] very lyke to th[em] the beard excepted,\nwhych by a cruell pytie, & hateful loue, iudge that\nthe chyldren euen vntyl they waxe springoldes, shuld\nbe kept at home kyssyng theyr mothers, and among the\nsweete wordes of theyr nurses pastymes, and vnchaste\ntrystynges of seruauntes and maydens. And thynke that\nthey ought vtterlye to be kepte awaye from learnyng as\nfrom venome, saying that the fyrst age is so rude that\nit can receiue no discipline, and so tender that it is\nnot mete for the labours of studies: and finally that\nthe profite of that age is so lytle worth, that\nneyther anye coste shulde be made vpon it, neyther y^t\nthe weakenes of the chyldr[en] shuld be vexed. Whyle I\nproue euery of these thynges false, I\u00a0pray you a lytle\nwhyle take hede, countyng as the truth is, fyrst that\nthese thynges be writt[en] of him which loueth you as wel\nas any m\u00e3 doth, & inespecially of y^t thing which so\nperteineth to you, y^t none can do more. For what is\nmore derer to you th[en] your son, inespecial hauing but\nhim alone, vpon wh\u00f5 we wold be glad if we might\nbestowe yea our life, not only our substa[un]ce. Wherfore\nwho mai not se y^t thei do leudly & also vntowardli\nwhich in tilling their l\u00e3d building their houses,\nkeping their horse, vse y^e gretest dilig[en]ce thei c\u00e3,\n& take to counsell men y^t be wyse, & of great\nexperience: in bringing vp and teachynge theyr\nchyldren, for whose sakes al other thinges ar gotten,\ntake so litle regard that nether they once councel\nwith theyr owne mynd, not seke for the iudgements of\nwyse men, but as thoughe there were a trifle in hande,\ngeue care to folyshe women, and to euery rascal\nwretche, whych is no lesse shame to hear, then if a\nman taking thought for the shooe, wolde set naught by\nthe foote, or wyth great study wold prouide that there\nshuld be no faut in the garmente, naught reckynge for\nthe healthe of the bodye. Good syr, I\u00a0wyl not here\ncause you to tarye wyth common places, howe muche the\nstrength of nature, how much fatherly loue, the law of\ngod, mens constitucions require the parentes to owe\nvnto the childr[en], thorowe whom asmuche as we maye wee\nescape to dye, and be made to lyue euer. But some\nthynke they haue gaylye done the office of a father,\nwhen they haue only begott[en] chyldren, where as thys is\nthe least porcion of loue that the name of a father\nrequyreth. What greate thought take the mothers\ncomenlye leste the infant shulde loke a gogle or a\nsquint, lest he shuld be puffe cheked, wrie necked,\ncroke shuldred, croke legged, splaye footed, and lest\nthat the proporcion of his bodye shuld not be trimme\nin euery point: whereunto besyde other thynges, they\nbe wont to vse swadelbondes, and keepe in their chekes\nwyth lytle miters. They haue regard also to theyr\nmylke, their meate, theyr bathes, & their mouinges,\nby whyche thynges the phisicions in many bookes, and\ninespeciall Galene hath taught that the chyldren get\ngood healthe of theyr bodye: neyther do they differ\nthys dilig[en]ce vnto the seuenth or tenth yere, but\neu[en] assone as the chylde commeth oute of the mothers\nwombe, they take greate charge of thys. And they do\nwell, for the infancie not regarded, oftentymes\ncauseth men to haue a syckely and sore disseased olde\nage, if they happen to come to it. Yea moreouer or\neuer the chyld be born, yet dothe the mother take\ngreat heede: Thei eate not of euery meat when they be\ngreate with chylde, they take heede that they moue not\ntheyr bodie to hurte them: and if there happen any\nthyng to fall vpon their face, by and by they take it\naway wyth theyr hand, and laye it vpon the priuie\npart of theyr body. It hath ben proued by many\nexperimentes, that by this remedie the deformitie\nwhych wold haue bene on that part of y^e body that is\nsene, hathe lyen hyd in the secrete place. No m\u00e3\ncalleth this to hasty a care whych is vsed for the\nworser parte of man. Why then is that parte of man,\nwherby we be properly called menne, neglected so many\nyeres? \u00b6 Shuld he not do all agaynste gods forbod which\nwold trim his cap, lettyng his head be vnkempt, and\nall scabbed? Yet much more vnreasonable is it that we\nshuld bestow iuste labours vpon the mortall bodye, and\nto haue no regarde of the immortal soule. Further, if\na m\u00e3 haue at home an horse colte, or a whelpe of a\ngood kynd, wyl he not straight waye begynne to fashion\nhym to do sumwhat, and wyll do that so muche the more\ngladlye, the readyer the yonge age is to folow the\nteachers mynde? Wee wyl teache a popiniaye while time\nis, to speke as a manne dothe, knowynge well that the\nelder he waxeth, the lesse apte he wyll be to be\ntaughte, yea the common prouerbe geuyng warnynge of\nthys thynge: That an old popiniaye careth not for the\nrod. \u00b6\u00a0And what a thynge is it to be diligente in a\nbyrde, and slowe in teachynge thy sonne? What do the\nwytty husbandmen? Do they not teach euen straight way\nthe pl\u00e3tes whyle they be yet tender, to put awaye\ntheyr wylde nature by graffynge, and wyll not tarye\ntyll they be waxen bygge and myghtye? \u00b6\u00a0And they do not\nonlye take heede that the litle tree grow not croked\nor haue any other faute, but if ther be anye, they\nmake haste to amend it, whyle it wyll yet bowe, and\nfolowe the hande of the fashioner. \u00b6\u00a0And what liuyng\nthynge, or what plante wyll bee as the owener or\nhousebande manne wolde haue it to serue for, excepte\noure dylygence helpe nature? The sooner it is donne,\nthe better will it come to passe.\n\n\u00b6 In dede to manye dumme beastes, nature the mother of\nall thynges, hath geuen more helpe to do theyr natural\noffices, but because the prouid[en]ce of God hath of al\ncreatures vnto men onlye geuen the strength of reason,\nshe hath left the greatest parte to educacion, in so\nmuch that one hath written very wel the first poynte,\nthe middle, and the thirde, that is the chyefe of all\nmans felicitye, to be good instruccion, & ryght\nbryngynge vp. Whych prayse Demosthenes gaue to ryght\npronunciacion, and that in deede not falsely, but\nryghte bryngynge vp helpeth muche more to wysedome,\nthen pronunciation to eloquence. For diligente and\nholy bringing vp, is the founteyne of al vertue. As to\nfolye and myschief, the fyrst, seconde, and thyrde\npoynte, is vndiligente and corrupte educacion. Thys is\nthe thynge that is chiefelye lefte vnto vs. That is\nthe cause why vnto other beastes nature hathe geuen\nswyftnes, flyght, sharpnes of sight, greatnes, and\nstrengthe of bodye, scales, flyshes, heares, hornes,\nnayles, venome, wherby they may both defende their\nhealthe, and prouide for theyr liuynge, and brynge vp\ntheir yonge: and bryngeth forthe man onlye softe,\nnaked, and vnfensed: but in stede of all thys, hath\ngeuen hym a mynde hable to receiue all discipline,\nbecause in this onlye are all thynges, if a man wyll\nexercise it. And euerye liuynge thynge, the lesse mete\nit is to teachynge, so muche the more it hathe of\nnatiue prudence. Bees learne not to make their celles,\nto gather iuce, and to make honye. The Emets are not\ntaughte to gather into their holes in somer, wherby\nthey shulde lyue in wynter, but all these thynges be\ndone by instruccion of nature. But man neyther can\neate, nor go, nor speake, except he be taught. Then if\nthe tree brynge forthe eyther no fruite or vnsauerye,\nwithout the diligence of graffing, if the dogge be\nvnmete to hunte, the horse vnapte to iuste, the oxe to\nthe plowe, except oure diligence bee putte to, howe\nwylde and vnprofitable a creature wolde man become,\nexcept dilig[en]tlye, and in dewe tyme he shulde be\nfashioned by good bryngynge vp. \u00b6\u00a0I\u00a0wyll not here\nrehearse vnto you the example of Lycurgus knowen of\neuerye man, whyche bryngynge oute two whelpes, one of\na gentle kynde, but euyll taughte, that ran to the\nmeate, that other of sluggyshe syres, but diligently\nbrought vp, that leafte the meate and leapt vpon the\nbeast. Nature is an effectuall thynge, but educacion\nmore effectuall, ouercommeth it. Menne take heede that\nthey maye haue a good dog to hunte, to haue a good\nhorse to iournei with, and here thei thynke no\ndiligence to be to hastie, but to haue a sonne that\nshulde be both worship and profite to the parentes,\nvpon whome they myghte laye a good part of the charges\nof their houshold, whose loue mighte noryshe and beare\nvp their vnweldy age, and y^t shuld shew hym self a\ntrustye and healpynge sonne in a lawe, a\u00a0good husbande\nto his wife, a\u00a0valiaunte and profitable citizen to the\ncommon wealthe, I\u00a0saye to haue suche one, eyther they\ntake no care, or else they care to late. For wh\u00f5 do\nthey plant? for wh\u00f5 do they plowe? for wh\u00f5 do they\nbuylde? for wh\u00f5 do they hunt for riches both by land &\nby sea? not for theyr chyldr[en]? But what profite or\nworshyp is in these thinges, if he y^t shal be heire\nof th[em] can not vse th[em]? With vnmesurable studye\nbe possessions gotten, but of the possessor we take no\nkepe Who prepareth an harpe for the vnskylfull of\nmusycke? Who garnysheth a librarie for hym that can\nskyl of no bookes? And are so great ryches gotten for\nhym whyche can not tell howe to vse them? If thou\ngettest these thynges to hym that is well broughte vp,\nthou geueste hym instrumentes of vertue: but if thou\nget them for a rude and rusticall wytte, what other\nthynge doest thou then minister a matter of\nwantonnesse and mischiefe? What canne bee thoughte\nmore folyshe then thys kynde of fathers? They prouide\nthat the bodie of the sonne maye be wythout faute, and\nshulde bee made apte to do all manner thynges comelye,\nbut the mynde, by whose moderacion all honeste wyrkes\ndo stand, that they care not for. It nedeth me not\nhere to rehearse that riches, dignitie, authoritie,\nand also healthfulnes of body, whych menne so\ndesirouslye wyshe to theyr chyldren, nothynge doth\nmore get them vnto man, th[en] vertue and learninge. They\nwyshe vnto them a praye, but they wyll not geue th[em] a\nnette to take it with all. That thing which is of al\nmost excellent, thou canst not geue thy sonne, but\nthou mayest store hym wyth those good sciences, wherby\nthe best thynges be gotten. Now is this a great\ninconuenience, but it is yet a greater, that they\nleaue at home their dogge wel taught, their horse well\nbroken and taught, and theyr son enstructed wyth no\nlearnyng. They haue land well tylled, and theyr sonne\nshamefull rude. \u00b6\u00a0They haue their house goodly trimmed,\nand theyr sonne voyde of all garnyshyng. Further, they\nwhych after the peoples estimacion seme to be\nmeruelouse wyse, do prolong the diligence to garnyshe\nthe mind eyther in to an age vnapte to bee taughte,\nor else take no care at all for it, and are meruelouse\nthoughtfull of externall goodes of fortune, yea or\neuer he be borne, whom they haue appoynted to be lorde\nof th[em] all. For what se we not them to do? When their\nwyfe is greate with chylde, then call they for a\nsearcher of natiuities, the parentes axe whether it\nshall be a man or a woman kynde. They searche oute the\ndestenye. If the astrologer by the byrth houre haue\nsayde that the chylde shulde be fortunate in warre:\nwee wyll, saye they, dedicate this chyld to the kynges\ncourte. If he shal promyse ecclesiasticall dygnitie,\nwee wyll, saye they, hunte for hym by some meanes,\na\u00a0Byshoprycke, or a fatte Abbotshyp. Thys chylde wyl\nwe make a president or a deane. \u00b6\u00a0Thys semeth not to\nthem to hasty a care when they preuente euen the wery\nbyrth: and semeth it to hastye that is vsed in\nfashioning your childrens myndes? So quyclye you\nprouide to haue your sonne a capteine or an officer,\nand therewyth wylte thou not prouide that he maie be a\nprofitable captayn or officer of the common wealth?\nBefore the tyme come you go aboute this, to haue your\nsonne a byshop, or an abbot, and wylt thou not fashion\nhym to this well, to beare the office of a byshop, or\nan abbot? Thou setteste hym to a chariot, and shewest\nhym not the manner to guyde it. Thou puttest hym to\nthe sterne, and passest not that he shulde learne\nthose thynges that becommeth a shypmaster to know.\nFinally in all thy possessions thou regardest nothing\nlesse then that, that is moste precious, & for whose\nsake al other thynges be gotten. Thi corne fieldes be\ngoodly, thy houses be fayre, thy vessel is bright, thy\ngarmentes, and al thy housholde stuffe, thy horses bee\nwel kept, thi serua[un]tes wel taught, only thy sonnes\nwyt is foule, filthy & all sluttishe. Thou hast\npercha[un]ce bought by the dr[um]me a bond slaue, vyle,\nand barbarous, if he be rude and ignoraunt, y^u markest\nto what vse he is good, & trimly thou bryngest hym\nvp to some craft, either of the kytchen, physicke,\nhusbandrye, or stewardshyp: only thy s\u00f5ne thou settest\nlyght by, as an idle thynge. Thei wyl say: He shal\nhaue inough to lyue on, but he shall not haue to lyue\nwell on. Comonly the rycher that men be, the lesse\nthey care for the bryngyng vp of their chyldren. What\nneede is it, say they, of anye learnyng, they shall\nhaue inoughe? Yea the more nede haue they of the helpe\nof phylosophy and learnyng. The greater the shyp is, &\nthe more marchandyse it carieth aboute, the more neede\nit hathe of a connynge shyppe master. Howe greatlye do\nPrynces go about this, to leaue vnto their sonnes as\nlarge a dominion as they c\u00e3, and yet do none care\nlesse that they shuld be brought vp in those good\nwayes, wythoute the whych, principalitie can not wel\nbe ordred. How muche more dothe he geue, that geueth\nvs to lyue well, then to lyue? Verye lytel do chyldren\nowe vnto theyre fathers of whome they be no more\nbut begotten, and not also broughte vp to lyue\nverteouslye.\n\n\u00b6 The saying of Alexander is muche spoken of: excepte\nI were Alexander, I\u00a0wold wishe to be Diogenes. But\nvery worthely doth Plutarch rebuke it, because that so\nmuch the more he shuld haue wyshed to haue had\nDiogenes philosophye, howe muche the greater hys\ndominion was. But muche more shameful is theyr\nsluggardy, whyche not onely bryng not vp their chyldr[en]\naright, but also corrupte them to wyckednesse. When\nCrates the Thebane dyd perceiue thys abhominacion, not\nwithout a cause he wolde go in to y^e hyest place of\nthe citye, & there crie out as loud as he could, &\ncaste them in the teeth wyth theyr madnesse in this\nwyse. You wretches what madnesse driueth you? Take you\nsuche thought to gette money and possessions, & take\nyou no care for your children for whom you get these\nthynges? As they be scante halfe mothers whych onlye\nbringe forth, and not vp their chyldren, so be they\nscante halfe fathers, which when they prouide\nnecessaries for theyr chyldrens bodies, eu[en] somuch\nthat they maye ryot wythall, prouide not that their\nmyndes maye be garnyshed wyth honest disciplines.\nTrees paradu[en]ture wyl grow though eyther baren, or\nwyth wild fruite: horses are foled, though perchaunce\nthey be good for nothyng: but menne (truste me) be not\nborne, but fashioned. Menne in olde tyme which by no\nlawes, nor good order ledde theyr lyues in woodes, in\nw\u00e3derynge lustes of bodye, were rather wylde beastes\nthen men. Reason maketh a man: that hathe no place\nwhere all thynges are gouerned after affection. If\nshape and fashion shulde make a man, Images also\nshulde be counted among men. Elegantly sayde\nAristippus when a certen ryche man axed him what\nprofite learnyng shuld brynge to a yong man: & it be\nno more but this quod he, y^t in the playing place one\nstone sytte not vpon an other. Very properly another\nPhilosopher Diogenes I trowe, bearynge in the mydday a\ncandle in his hand, walked aboute the market place\nthat was full of men: beinge axed what thynge he\nsought: I\u00a0seeke quod he, a\u00a0man. He knewe that there\nwas a greate company, but of beastes, and not men. The\nsame man on a daye, when st\u00e3ding on an hye place he\nhad called a great sort together, and sayde nothing\nelse but come hither men, come hyther men. Some halfe\nangrye cryed agayne: we are here men, say what thou\nhast. Th[en] quod he: I\u00a0wold haue men come hyther & not\nyou whych are nothyng lesse then men, and therwyth\ndraue them away wyth his staffe. Surely it is very\ntrewe, that a man not instructed wyth Phylosophye nor\nother good sciences, is a creature somewhat worse then\nbrute beastes. For beastes folowe onely the affectes\nof nature, a\u00a0manne except he be fashioned wyth\nlearning, and preceptes of philosophy, is rawght into\naffeccions more th[en] beastlike. For there is no beast\nmore wylde, or more hurtefull then a manne, whom\nambicion dryuethe, desyre, anger, enuye, ryot, and\nluste. Therfore he that prouideth not that his sonne\nmay by and by be instructed in the beste learnyng;\nneyther is he a manne, nor the sonne of a man. \u00b6\u00a0Were\nit not an abhominable sight that the mynde of a man\nshulde be in a beastes body? As we haue read that\nCirces when she had encha[un]ted men wyth her wytchcraft,\ndyd turne them into Lions, beares and swyne, so that\nyet ther shuld be stil in them the mynde of a man,\nwhich thyng Apuleus wrote to haue happened to hym\nselfe, and Austin also hathe beleued that men haue\nbene turned into wolues. Who could abyde to be called\nthe father of such a monster. But it is a more\nmerueylous monster that a beastes mynde shulde be in a\nmans bodye, and yet do very many please them selues in\nsuche chyldren, and bothe the fathers seme, and the\ncommon people thynke suche to be verye wise.\n\n\u00b6 It is sayde that beares caste oute a lumpe of fleshe\nwythout anye fashion, whych wyth longe lyckyng they\nforme and brynge into a fashyon, but there is no\nbeares yonge one so euyll fauored as a manne is, borne\nof a rude mynde.\n\n\u00b6 Except wyth much studye y^u forme and fashion this,\nthou shalt be a father of a monster and not of a man.\nIf thy sonne be borne wyth a copped head or\ncrockeshuldred, or splay footed, or wyth syxe fingers\nin one hande, howe lothe woldest thou be for it, how\narte thou ashamed to be called the father not of a\nman, but of a monster: and art thou not ashamed of so\nmonstrous a mynde? \u00b6\u00a0Howe discoraged be the fathers in\ntheyr hertes if their wyfe brynge forthe a naturall, &\nan infante of a brute mynde? For they thynke they haue\nbegott[en] not a man, but a monster, and excepte feare of\nthe lawe dyd let them, they wolde kyll that that is\nborne. Thou blameste nature whych hath denied the\nminde of a man to thy chylde, & thou causest by thyne\nown negligence, that thy sonne shulde be wythoute the\nmynde of a man. But thou wylte saye: Better it is to\nbe of a brutishe rather th[en] of an vngracious mind.\nNaye better it is to be a swyne, th[en] an vnlearned and\neuyll man. Nature, when she geueth the a sonne, she\ngeueth nothyng else, th[en] a rude lumpe of fleshe. It is\nthy parte to fashi\u00f5 after y^e best maner, that matter\nthat will obey & folow in euery poynt. If thou wylt\nslacke to do it, thou hast a beaste: if thou take hede\nthou hast, as I myght saye, a\u00a0God. Srayght waye assone\nas thy inf\u00e3te is borne, it is apte to be taughte those\nthynges whych properlie belonge to a man. Therfore\nafter the sayinge of Vyrgyll, bestowe diligente labour\nvpon hym, euen from hys tender age. Handle the waxe\nstrayght way whyle it is very soft, fashion thys claie\nwhle it is moist, season thys earthen vessel wyth\nverye good liquour, while it is newe, bye your wolle\nwhyle it commeth whyte frome the fuller, and is not\ndefiled wyth any spottes. Antisthenes dyd verye\nmerilye shewe the same, whyche when he had taken a\ncerten mans s\u00f5ne to be taught, and was axed of hys\nfather what thinges he had neede of: a\u00a0newe booke quod\nhe, a\u00a0newe pensyle, and a new table. Verelye the\nphilosopher requyred a rude and emptye mynde. Thou\ncanst not haue a rude lumpe; but and if thou fashyonst\nnot lyke a manne, of it selfe it wylt waxe naught,\ninto monstruous formes of wylde beastes. Seynge thou\ndoest owe this seruyce to God & nature, although there\nwere no hope that thou shuldest haue any profite\ntherby, count in thy mynd, how greate comforte, how\ngreate profite, howe much worshyp the children that be\nwell brought vp brynge to theyr fathers. [Sidenote:\nChyldren euyl broughte vp, brynge shame to their\npar[en]tes] Agayne into what shames and greate sorowes\nthey cast their parentes that bee euyll broughte vp.\nThere is no nede to bryng here vnto the examples out\nof olde chronicles: do no more but remember in thy\nmind the housholdes of thine owne citye, howe many\nexamples shalt y^u haue in eueri place? I\u00a0know thou\ndoest often hear such wordes. O\u00a0happye man that I\nwere, if my chyldren were buryed. O\u00a0fortunate mother,\nif I hadde neuer broughte forth chylde. It is a\nwayghty matter to brynge vp chyldren well, I\u00a0graunt:\nbut no man is borne to him selfe, no man borne to be\nidle. Thou woldest nedes be a father, y^u muste be a\ngood father; y^u haste gotten th[em] to the c\u00f5mon wealth,\nnot to thy self only; or to speake more lyke a christen\nman, y^u hast begott[en] th[em] to god, not to thy\nselfe. Paul wryteth that so in dede women be saued, if\nthey bryng forth childr[en], & so brynge th[em] vp that\nthey continue in y^e study of vertue. God wil straitly\ncharge the par[en]ts w^t the childr[en]s fautes. Therfore\nexcepte y^t euen forthwith thou bryng vp honestly y^t,\nthat is borne, fyrst y^u dost thy self wronge, which\nthorow thy negligence, gettest y^t to thy selfe, then\nthe which no enemye could wyshe to an other, ether\nmore greuous or paynful. Dionisius did effeminat w^t\ndelyghtes of the court Dions yong son y^t was run\nawaye from him: he knew y^t this shuld be more\ncarefull to y^e father, then if he had kylled hym w^t\na swerde. A\u00a0litel whyle after when the yong manne was\nforced of his father that was come to him, to returne\nagayne to his old vertue, he brake his necke out of a\ngarret. In dede a certeyne wise hebrici\u00f5 wrot very\nwisely. A\u00a0wise child maketh the father glad, & a\nfolish son is sorow to y^e mother. But a wyse chyld\nnot only is pleasure to hys father, but also worship\nand succoure, and finallye hys fathers lyfe. Contrarye\na folyshe and leude chylde, not only bringeth\nheauynesse to hys parentes, but also shame and\npouertye, and olde before the tyme: and at laste\ncauseth death to them, of whom he had the begynnyng of\nlyfe. What nede me to rehearse vp? daily are in our\neies the examples of citizens, whome the euyll maners\nof theyr chyldr[en] haue brought to beggarye, whome\neyther the sonne beyng hanged, or theyr daughter an\nwhoore of the stewes, haue tormented wyth intollerable\nshame and vylany. I\u00a0know greate men, whych of manye\nchyldren haue scante one lefte alyue. \u00b6\u00a0One consumed\nwyth the abhominable leprie, called by diminucion y^e\nfrench pockes, beareth his death aboute wyth hym:\nanother hathe burste by drynkynge for the beste game,\nan other goyng a whorehuntynge in the nyghte with a\nvisar, was pitifullye kylled. What was the cause?\nBycause theyr parentes thynkynge it enough to haue\nbegotten them, and enryched them, toke no heede of\ntheire bryngynge vp. \u00b6\u00a0They shall dye by the lawe, whych\nlaye awaye theyr children, and cast them into some\nwood to be deuoured of wylde beastes. But there is no\nkynde of puttynge them awaye more cruell, then to geue\nvp that to beastlye affeccions, whych nature hath\ngeuen to be fashioned by very good waies. If ther wer\nani witch could wyth euyl craftes, and wold go about\nto turne thy sonne into a swyne or a wolfe, woldest\nthou not thynke that ther were no punyshemente to sore\nfor her myscheuouse deede? But that whych thou\nabhorrest in her, thou of purpose doest it thy selfe.\nHow huge a beaste is lechery? how rauenous and\ninsaciable is ryot? howe wylde a beast is dronkenshyp?\nhow hurtfull a thing is anger? how horrible is\nambicion? To these beastes dothe he set ouer hys\nsonne, whosoeuer from his tender youthe doth not\naccustume hym to loue that, that is honeste: to\nabhorre synne: yea rather not onlye he casteth hym to\nwyld beastes, whych the most cruel casters away are\nwonte to do, but also whych is more greuouese, he\nnorisheth this greate and perilous beaste, euen to hys\nowne destruccion. It is a kind of men most to be\nabhorred, which hurteth the body of infantes wyth\nbewitchyng: and what shal we say of those parentes\nwhiche thorowe their negligence and euyll educacion\nbewitch the mynd? They are called murtherers that kyll\ntheir children beynge newe borne, and yet kyll but the\nbody: howe great wyckednes is it to kyll the mynde?\nFor what other thynge is the deathe of the soule, then\nfoly and wickednes. And he doth also no lesse wrong to\nhis contrey, to whom asmuch as lyeth in hym, he geueth\na pestilente citiz[en]. He is naught to godwards, of whom\nhe hath receyued a chylde for thys purpose, to brynge\nhym vp to vertue. Hereby you may se, how greate and\nmanifolde mischiefes they committe whych regarde not\nthe bryngynge vp of tender age. \u00b6\u00a0But as I touched a\nlytle before, they synne more greuouslie then do\nthese, whych not onely do not fashion them to\nhonestye, but also season the tender and soft vessel\nof the infante to myschiefe and wyckednesse, and\nteacheth hym vyce before he knowe what vice is. How\nshuld he be a modeste man and dyspyser of pride, that\ncreepeth in purple? \u00b6\u00a0He can not yet sound his fyrste\nletters, and yet he nowe knoweth what crimosine and\npurple sylke meaneth, he knoweth what a mullet is, and\nother dayntie fyshes, and disdainfullye wyth a proude\nlooke casteth away c\u00f5mon dyshes. How can he be\nshamefast wh[en] he is growen vp, which being a litel\ninf\u00e3t was begon to be fashioned to lecherye? How shall\nhe waxe liberal wh[en] he is old, which being so litel\nhath lerned to meruell at money & gold? If ther be ani\nkynd of garment lately fo[un]d out, as daili y^e tailers\ncraft, as in time paste dyd Africa, bringeth forth\nsome new m\u00f5ster, y^t we put vpon our inf\u00e3t. He is\ntaught to stand in his own c\u00f5ceite: & if it be tak[en]\naway, he angerly axeth for it again. Howe shall he\nbeyng old hate dr[un]kennes, whych when he is an inf\u00e3t is\ntaught to loue wine? They teach them by lytle and\nlytle suche filthy wordes whych are scant to be\nsuffered, as sayth Quintilian, of the delicious\nAlexandrians. And if the child speake any suche after\nthem, they kysse hym for hys laboure. I\u00a0warant you\nthey know their yong, growynge nothynge out of kynde,\nwhen theyr owne lyfe is nothynge else then an example\nof naughtynes. Beynge an infant, he learneth the\nvnchaste flatterynge wordes of nurses, and as we saye,\nhe is fashioned wyth the hand to wanton touchynge.\nHe seeth hys father well whetteled wyth drynke, and\nheareath hym bablynge oute that, that shulde be kepte\nin. He sytteth at greate, and not very honest feastes,\nhe heareth the house ful of iesters, harpes, mynstrels\nand daunsers. \u00b6\u00a0To these maners the chyld is so\naccustumed, that custume goeth into nature. There be\nnacions that fashion their chyldren to fiercenesse of\nwarre whyle they be yet redde fr\u00f5 the mother. They\nlerne to loke fierslie, the learne to loue the\nswearde, and to geue a strype. From such beginninges\nthei are deliuered to the master: and do we merueyle\nif wee fynde them vnapte to lerne vertue, whych haue\ndronke in vyces, euen wyth the mylke? But I hear some\nmen defendynge theyr folye thus, and saie that by thys\npleasure whiche is taken of the want\u00f5nes of infantes,\nthe tediousnes of noursyng is rec\u00f5p[en]sed. What is this?\nShuld it be to the verye father more pleasaunt if the\nchylde folowe an euyll deede, or expresse a leude\nworde, th[en] if wyth his lytle stuttyng tonge, he spake\na good sentence, or folowe any deede that is wel done?\nNature specially hathe geuen to the fyrste age an\neasines to folowe and do after, but yet thys folowyng\nis somewhat more prone to naughtynesse then to\ngoodnes. Is vyce more plesaunte to a good man then\nvertue, specially in hys chrldren? If anye fylthe fall\nvpon the yonge chyldes skyn, thou puttest it away, and\ndost thou infect the mynd wyth so foule spottes?\nNothynge stycketh faster then that that is learned in\nyonge myndes. I\u00a0pray you what motherlye hertes haue\nthose women, whiche dandle in their lap their chyldren\ntyl they be almost seuen yeres old, and in maner make\nth[em] fooles? If they be so much disposed to play why do\nthey not rather get apes, and litle puppets to play\nwythall? O\u00a0saye they: they be but chyldren. They be in\ndeede: but it c\u00e3 scant be told how muche those fyrste\nbeginninges of our yong age do helpe vs to guide all\nour lyfe after, & howe hard & vntractable a wanton and\ndissolute bryngyng vp, maketh the chylde to the\nteacher, callynge the same gentlenes, when in deede it\nis a marring. Might not an accion of euyl handlyng\nchildren meruelous iustli be laid against such\nmothers? For it is plainely a kynde of witchcraft & of\nmurther. They be punyshed by the lawe, y^t bewitche\ntheir childr[en], or hurt their weake bodies with\npoisons: what do thei deserue which corrupt y^e chiefe\nparte of the inf\u00e3t w^t most vngracious venome? It is a\nlighter matter to kyl the body then the mind? If a\nchild shulde be brought vp am\u00f5g the gogle eied\nstutters, or haltyng, the body wold be hurt w^t\ninfecci\u00f5: but in dede fautes of the mind crepe vpon vs\nmore priuely, & also more quickely, & settel deper.\nThe apostle Paul worthily gaue this honor vnto the\nverse of Men\u00e3der, y^t he wold recite it in his\nepistels: Euyl comunicaci\u00f5, corrupteth good maners: but\nthis is neuer truer th[en] in infantes. Aristotle wh[en]\nhe was axed of a certen m\u00e3 by what meanes he myghte\nbringe to pas, to haue a goodly horse: If he be\nbrought vp quod he, among horses of good kynde. And\ny^t if neyther loue nor reason can teach vs howe\ngreate care we ought to take for y^e first yeres of\nour children, at y^e least waies let vs take example\nof brute beastes. For it oughte not to greue vs to\nlearne of th[em] a thynge y^t shall be so profitable,\nof whome m\u00e3kinde now long ago hath lerned so many\nfruitful things: sence a beast called Hippopotamus\nhath shewed y^e cutting of veines, & a bird of egipt\ncalled Ibis hath shewed y^e vse of a clister, which\ny^e phisici\u00f5s gretly alow. The hearbe called dictamum\nwhiche is good to drawe out arrowes, we haue knowne it\nbi hartes. Thei also haue taughte vs that the eatinge\nof crabs is a remedy against the poyson of spyders.\nAnd also we haue learned by the teachyng of lysardes,\nthat dictamum doth confort vs agaynst the byting of\nserpentes. For thys kynde of beastes fyghte naturally\nagaynste serpentes, of whom wh[en] they be hurt, they\nhaue ben espyed to fetche theyr remedye of that herbe.\nSwallowes haue shewed vs salandine, and haue geuen the\nname vnto the hearbe. \u00b6\u00a0The wesyll hathe shewed vs that\nrewe is good in medicines. The Storke hathe shewed vs\nthe herbe organye: and the wylde bores haue declared\ny^t Iuy helpeth sickenesses. Serpentes haue shewed\nthat fenel is good for the eye syght. That vomite of\nthe stomacke is stopped by lettise, the Dragon\nmonysheth vs. And that mans donge helpeth agaynst\npoyson, the Panthers haue taught vs, and many mo\nremedies we haue learned of Brute beastes: yea and\ncraftes also that be verye profitable for mannes lyfe.\nSwine haue shewed vs the maner to plow the land, and\nthe Swalowe to t[em]per mud walles. To be short, there is\nin maner nothyng profitable for the lyfe of man,\nbut y^t nature hathe shewed vs an example in brute\nbeastes, that they that haue not learned philosophy\nand other sciences, maye be warned at the least waye\nby them what they shulde do. Do we not se howe that\neuery beaste, not only doth beget yonge, but also\nfashion them to do their natural office? The byrde is\nborne to flye. Doest thou not se how he is taught\ntherunto & fashioned by his d\u00e3me? We see at home how\nthe cattes go before their kytlynges, and exercyse\nthem to catch myse and byrdes, because they muste lyue\nby them. \u00b6\u00a0They shewe them the praye whyle it is yet\nalyue, and teache them to catche it by leapyng, and at\nlast to eate them. What do hartes? Do they not forth\nwyth exercise their fawnes to swyftnes, and teach th[em]\nhowe to runne? they brynge them to hye stiepe doune\nplaces, & shewe them how to leap, because by these\nmeanes they be sure agaynste the traines of the\nhunters. Ther is put in writing as it were a certen\nrule of techyng eleph\u00e3tes and dolphins in brynginge vp\ntheir yonge. In Nyghtingales, we perceiue the offices\nof the techer and learner, how the elder goth before,\ncalleth backe, and correcteth, and howe the yonger\nfoloweth and obeyeth. And as the dogge is borne to\nhuntyng, the byrde to flyinge, the horse to runnyng,\nthe oxe to plowynge, so man is borne to philosophy and\nhoneste doinges: and as euery liuing thing lerneth\nvery easly that, to the whiche he is borne, so man\nwyth verye lytle payne perceiueth the lernyng of\nvertue and honestye, to the whiche nature hath graffed\ncerten vehemente seedes and principles: so that to the\nreadinesse of nature, is ioyned the diligence of the\nteacher. What is a greater inconuenience then beastes\nthat be wythout reason to knowe and remember theyr\nduetye towarde theyr yong: Man whych is deuided from\nbrute beastes by prerogatiue of reason, not to know\nwhat he oweth to nature, what to vertue, and what to\nGod? And yet no kynde of brute beastes looketh for\nanye rewarde of theyre yong for their noursynge and\nteachynge, excepte we luste to beleue that the Storkes\nnoryshe agayne they d\u00e3mes forworne wyth age, and bear\nthem vpon their backes. But among men, because no\ncontinuance of time taketh awaye the thanke of\nnaturall loue: what comfort, what worshyp, what\nsuccoure doth he prepare for hym selfe, that seeth hys\nchilde to be well brought vp? Nature hathe geuen into\nthy handes a newe falowed fielde, nothynge in it in\ndeede, but of a fruitfull grounde: and thou thorow\nnegligence sufferest it to be ouergrowen wyth bryers\nand thornes, whyche afterwardes can not be pulled vp\nwyth any diligence. In a lytell grayne, howe greate a\ntree is hyd, what fruite will it geue if it spring\noute.\n\n\u00b6 All thys profite is lost except thou caste seede\ninto the forowe, excepte thou noryshe wyth thy labour\nthis tender plant as it groweth, and as it were make\nit tame by graffyng. Thou awakest in tamyng thy pl\u00e3t,\nand slepeste thou in thy sonne? All the state of mans\nfelicitie standeth specially in thre poyntes: nature,\ngood orderyng, and exercyse. I\u00a0cal nature an aptnes to\nbe taught, and a readines that is graffed within vs to\nhonestye. Good orderynge or teachyng, I\u00a0call doctryne,\nwhich stondeth in monicions and preceptes. I\u00a0call\nexercyse the vse of that perfitenes which nature hath\ngraffed in vs, and that reason hath furthered. Nature\nrequyreth good order and fashionynge: exercyse, except\nit be gouerned by reason, is in daunger to manye\nperylles and erroures. They be greatly therefore\ndeceiued, whych thynke it suffici[en]t to be borne, & no\nlesse do they erre whyche beleue that wysedome is got\nby handelynge matters and greate affayres wythoute the\npreceptes of philosophye. Tel me I praye you, when\nshall he be a good runner whych runneth lustelye in\ndeede, but eyther runneth in the darke, or knoweth not\nthe waye? \u00b6\u00a0When shall he bee a good sworde player,\nwhych shaketh hys sworde vp and downe wynkyng?\nPreceptes of philosophye be as it were the eyes of the\nmynde, and in manner geue lyght before vs that you may\nsee what is nedefull to be done and what not. Longe\nexperience of diuerse thinges profite much in dede,\nI\u00a0confesse, but to a wyse man that is diligently\ninstructed in preceptes of well doynge. Counte what\nthei haue done, and what thei haue suffered all theyr\nlyfe, whych haue gotten them by experience of thinges\na sely small prudence & thinke whether y^u woldest\nwyshe so greate myschiues to thy sonne. Moreouer\nphilosophye teacheth more in one yere, then dothe anye\nexperience in thyrty, and it teacheth safely, wh[en] by\nexperience mo men waxe miserable then prudent, in so\nmuch that the old fathers not without a cause sayde:\na\u00a0man to make a perill or be in ieopardy, whych\nassayed a thyng by experience. Go to, if a man wold\nhaue hys sonne well seene in physycke, whether wolde\nhe rather he shulde reade the bookes of physicions or\nlearne by experience what thynge wolde hurt by\npoysonyng, or helpe by a remedy. Howe vnhappye\nprudence is it, when the shypman hathe learned the\narte of saylynge by often shypwrackes, when the prince\nby continuall batayles and tumultes, and by c\u00f5mon\nmyschieues hath learned to beare hys office? Thys is\nthe prudence of fooles, and that is bought to dearlye,\nthat men shulde be wyse after they be strycken wyth\nmyschief. He learneth very costely, whych by wanderyng\nlerneth not to wander. Philippus wyselye learned hys\nsonne Alexander to shewe hym selfe glad to lerne of\nAristotle: and to learne philosophy perfectlye of him\nto the ent[en]t he shuld not do that he shuld repent hym\nof. And yet was Phylyp c\u00f5mended for hys singuler\ntowardnes of wytte. What thynke ye then is to be\nlooked for of the c\u00f5mon sorte. But the manner of\nteachynge doth briefly shewe what we shulde folowe,\nwhat wee shulde auoyde: neyther dothe it after wee\nhaue taken hurte monyshe vs, thys came euyll to passe,\nhereafter take heede: but or euer ye take the matter\nin hande, it cryeth: If thou do thys, thou shalt get\nvnto the euyll name and myschiefe. Let vs knytte\ntherfore this threfolde corde, that both good teachyng\nleade nature, and exercise make perfite good\nteachynge. Moreouer in other beastes we do perceiue\nthat euery one doth sonest learne that that is most\nproperly belonging to hys nature, and whych is fyrste\nto the sauegarde of hys healthe: and that standeth in\nthose thynges which brynge either payne or destrucci\u00f5.\nNot onlye liuing thyngs but plantes also haue thys\nsence. For we se that trees also in that parte where\nthe sea doth sauour, or the northen winde blow, to\nshrynke in their braunches and boughes: and where the\nwether is more gentle, there to spreade them farther\noute.\n\n\u00b6 And what is that that properly belongeth vnto man?\nVerelye to lyue according to reason, and for that is\ncalled a reasonable creature, and diuided fr\u00f5 those\nthat c\u00e3 not speake And what is most destrucci\u00f5 to m\u00e3?\nFolyshenes. He wyll therfore be taught nothyng soner\nthen vertue, and abhorre from nothynge sooner then\nfolyshenesse, if so be the diligence of the parentes\nwyll incontinent set aworke the nature whyle it is\nemty. But we here meruelous complantes of the common\npeople, howe readye the nature of chyldr[en] is to fal to\nvyce, & how hard it is to drawe them to the loue of\nhonesty. They accuse nature wrongfullye. The greatest\nparte of thys euyll is thorowe oure owne faute, whyche\nmar the wittes w^t vyces, before we teache them\nvertues. And it is no maruell if we haue them not\nverye apte to learne honestye, seyng they are nowe\nalready taught to myschiefe. And who is ignoraunt,\nthat the labour to vnteache, is both harder, and also\ngoth before teachyng. Also the common sorte of men do\namysse in thys pointe thre maner of wayes: eyther\nbecause they vtterlye neglecte the bryngynge vp of\nchyldren, or because they begynne to fashion their\nmyndes to knoweledge to late, or because they putte\nthem to those men of whome they maye learne that that\nmuste be vnlerned agayne. Wee haue shewed those fyrst\nmaner of men vnworthi to be called fathers, and that\nthey very litle differ from suche as sette theyr\ninfantes out abrode to be destroyed, and that they\noughte worthely to be punyshed by the lawe, which doth\nprescribe this also diligentlye by what meanes\nchyldren shuld be brought vp, & afterwards youth. The\nsecond sorte be very manye, wyth whom nowe I specially\nentend to striue. The thyrd doth amysse two wayes,\npartly thorowe ignoraunce, partly thorowe retchlesnes.\nAnd syth it is a rare thynge and a shame to be\nignoraunte to whome thou shuldest put oute thy horse,\nor thy grounde to be kepte, howe muche more shamefull\nis it not to knowe whom thou shuldeste put thy chylde\nin truste wythal, beynge the dearest part of thy\npossessions? Ther thou beginnest to lerne that, that\nthou canst not skyll well of thy selfe, thou axest\ncounsell of the beste seene: here thou thynkeste it\nmaketh no matter to whom thou committest thy sonne.\nThou assignest to thy seruantes, eueri man his office\nthat is metest for hym. Thou tryest whom thou mayest\nmake ouersear of thy husbandrie, whome to appoint to\nthe kitchen, and who shulde ouersee thy housholde. And\nit there be any good for nothynge, a\u00a0slug, a\u00a0dulhead,\na\u00a0foole, a\u00a0waster, to hym we c\u00f5mit oure childe to be\ntaught: and that thynge whych requireth the cunningest\nman of all, is put to y^e worst of our seruauntes.\nWhat is vntoward, if here menne haue not an vntoward\nmind? Ther be some whych for theyr couetous mynd be\nafeard to hyre a good master, and geue more to an\nhorskeper then a teacher of the chyld. And yet for al\nthat they spare no costly feastes, nyght & day thei\nplaye at dice, and bestowe moch vpon houndes & fooles.\nIn thys thynge onely they be sparers and nigardes,\nfor whose cause sparinge in other thynges myght be\nexcused. I\u00a0wold ther wer fewer whych bestowe more vpon\na rotten whore, then vpon bringyng vp of their chylde.\nNothyng sayth the Satir writer st\u00e3deth the father in\nlesse cost then the sonne. Peraduenture it wyll not be\nmuch amisse here to speake of y^e day dyet, which\nlonge ago was muche spok[en] of in y^e name of Crates.\nThey report it after thys fashion. Alow to thy coke\n.x. po[un]d, to thy physicion a grote, to thy flatterer\n.v. tal[en]ts, to thy co[un]seller smoke, to thy harlot\na talent, to thy philosospher .iii. halfp[en]s. What\nlacketh to this preposterous count, but to put to it\ny^t the teacher haue .iii. farthings: Howbeit I thinke\ny^t the master is meant vnder y^e name of philosopher.\nWh[en] one that was riche in money, but nedy of wit axed\nAristippus what wages he wold axe for teching his son,\n& he answered .v.C. grotes. You axe quod he to great a\ns[um]me: for w^t this much money a man maye bye a\nseruaunte. \u00b6\u00a0Then the philosopher very properly againe:\nbut now, quod he, for one thou shalt haue two: a\u00a0sonne\nmete to do the seruice, and a philosopher to teache\nthy sonne. Further if a man shulde bee axed, whether\nhe wold haue hys onlye sonne dead to wynne an hundred\nhorses, if he had any crumme of wysedome, he wold\nanswer (I\u00a0thinke:) in no wyse. Whi geuest thou then\nmore for thi horse? why is he more dilig[en]tly tak[en]\nhede to then thy sonne? why geuest thou more for a fole,\nthen for the bringyng vp of thy chylde? Be frugall and\nsparynge in other thynges, in thys poynt to be\nthryfty, is no sparynge but a madnes. There be other\nagayn that take good heede in chosyng a master, but\nthat is at the desyre of their friendes. They lette\npasse a meete and cunninge man to teache chyldren, and\ntake one that can no skyll, for none other cause, but\nthat he is set forwardes at the desyres of their\nfriendes. Thou mad man, what meanest thou? In saylynge\nthou regardest not the affeccion of th[em] y^t speake\ngood wordes for a man, but thou setteste hym to the\nhelme, whych can beste skyll to gouerne the shyp: in\nthe sonne, wh[en] not only he hymself is in ieopardy, but\nthe father and mother and all the housholde, yea and\nthe common wealth it selfe, wylte thou not vse like\niudgement? Thy horse is sicke, whether wilt thou sende\nfor a leche at the good word of thy friend, or for his\nc[un]ning in lechcraft. What? Is thy sonne of lesse price\nvnto the then thi horse? Yea settest thou lesse by thy\nselfe then by thy horse? This beyng a foule thynge in\nmeane citizens, how much more shamefull is it in great\nmenne? At one supper a dashynge agaynst the mischeuous\nrocke of dice, and so hauynge shypwrake, thei lose two\nhundred po[un]d, and yet they saye they be at coste, if\nvpon theyr son they bestowe aboue .xx. pounde. No man\ncan geue nature, eyther to himselfe, or to other:\nhowbeit in this poynte also the dilig[en]ce of the\npar[en]tes helpeth much. The fyrst poynt is, that a m\u00e3\nchose to hym selfe a wyfe that is good, come of a good\nkynred, and well broughte vp, also of an healthfull\nbodie. For seyng the kynred of the body and mynde is\nvery straytlye knytte, it can not be but that the one\nthynge eyther muste be holpen or hurte of the other.\nThe nexte is, that when the husbande dothe hys duetye\nto get chyldren, he do it neither beyng moued wyth\nanger, nor yet drunken, for these affeccions go into\nthe chylde by a secrete infeccion. A\u00a0certen\nphilosopher seemed to haue marked that thyng properly,\nwhyche seynge a yonge man behauinge hym selfe not\nverye soberlie, it is meruell quod he, but if thy\nfather begat the wh[en] he was dronke. Verily I thynke\nthis also maketh greatli to the matter, if the mother\nat all times, but specially at y^e time of concepcion\nand byrthe, haue her mynde free from all crimes, and\nbe of a good c\u00f5science. For ther can be nothyng eyther\nmore quiet or more merye then such a mynd. The thyrd\npoint is y^t the mother noryshe with her own brestes\nher inf\u00e3t, or if ther hap any necessitie that it maye\nnot so be, let be chos[en] a nurse, of a wholsome body,\nof pure mylke, good condicions, nether drunk[en], not\nbrauler, nor lecherous. For the vices that be tak[en]\neuen in y^e very beginninges of lyfe, both of the\nbodye and of the mynd, abyde fast vntyl we be olde.\nSome men also write y^t it skilleth muche who be his\nsucking felowes & who be his playfelowes. Fourthlye\nthat in due season he be set to a chosen scholemaster\nalowed by all mens witnes, and many waies tryed. You\nmust be dilig[en]t in chosyng, and after go thorowe with\nit. Homer disaloweth wher many beare rule: and after\nthe olde prouerbe of the grekes. The multitude of\ncaptaines dyd lose Caria. And the oft[en] chaunginge of\nphysicions hath destroyed manye. There is nothynge\nmore vnprofitable, then often to chaunge y^e master.\nFor by that meanes the web of Penelopes is wou[en] and\nvnwouen. But I haue knowen childr[en], whych before they\nwer .xii. yere old, had more th[en] .xii. masters, and\nthat thorowe the rechelesnesse of their par[en]tes. And\nyet after this is done must the par[en]tes be dilig[en]t.\nThey shall take heede bothe to the master & to the\nsonne, neither shall they so caste away al care from\nth[em] as they are wonte to laye all the charge of the\ndoughter vpon the spouse, but the father shall\noftentyme looke vpon them, and marke whether he\nprofite, remembrynge those thynges whych the olde men\nspake both sagely and wittely, that the forehead is\nset before the hynder part of the head: and that\nnothyng sooner fatteth the horse then the masters eye,\nnor that no dunge maketh the ground more fruitfull\nthen the masters footyng. I\u00a0speake of yonge ons. For\nas for the elders it is meete sometyme that they be\nsente far out of oure syght, whiche thing as it were a\ngraffing, is inespecially wont to tame yonge mens\nwyttes. Emonge the excellent vertues of Paulus\nEmilius, this also is praised, that as oft[en] as he\nmight for his busines in the c\u00f5mon welth he wolde be\nat the exercises of hys s\u00f5nes. And Plinie the nepheu\nwas contente nowe and then to go into the schole for\nhis friendes sonnes sake, whom he had taken vpon him\nto brynge vp in good learnynge. \u00b6\u00a0Furthermore, that that\nwee haue spoken of nature is not to be vnderstand one\nwayes. For there is a nature of a common kinde, as the\nnature of a man in to vse reason. But ther is a nature\npeculier, eyther to hym or him, that properly bel\u00f5geth\neither to thys man or that, as if a man wolde saye\nsome menne to be borne to disciplines mathematical\nsome to diuinitie, some to rethorike some to poetrie,\nand some to war. So myghtely disposed they be and\npulled to these studies, that by no meanes they canne\nbe discoraged from them, or so greatly they abhor\nthem, that they wyl sooner go into the fyre, then\napply their mynde to a science that they hate. I\u00a0knewe\none familierlye whych was verye well seene both in\ngreke and latin, and well learned in all liberall\nsciences, when an archbyshop by wh\u00f5 he was found, had\nsende hither by hys letters, that he shulde begynne to\nheare the readers of the lawe agaynst hys nature.\nAfter he had c\u00f5playned of this to me (for we laye both\ntogether) I\u00a0exhorted hym to be ruled by his patron,\nsaying that it wold wexe more easily, that at the\nbeginning was harde, and that at the least waye he\nshulde geue some part of hys tyme to that study. After\nhe had brought oute certen places wonderfull folyshe,\nwhich yet those professours halfe goddes dyd teache\ntheir hearers wyth greate authoritie, I\u00a0answered, he\nshuld set light by them, & take out that whyche they\ntaught well: and after I had preased vpon hym wyth\nmany argumentes, I\u00a0am quod he so minded, that as often\nas I turne my selfe to these studies, me thinketh a\nswerde runneth thorowe my hert. Menne that bee thus\nnaturallye borne, I\u00a0thynke they be not to bee\ncompelled against their nature, lest after the common\nsaying we shuld leade an Oxe to wreastlynge, or an\nAsse to the harpe. Peraduenture of this inclinacion\nyou may perceiue certen markes in lytle ons. There be\nthat can pronosticate such thynges by the houre of hys\nbirthe, to whose iudgemente howe muche ought to be\ngeuen, I\u00a0leaue it to euerye mans estimacion. It wolde\nyet muche profite to haue espyed the same assoone as\ncan be, because we learne those thynges most easelie,\nto the which nature hath made vs. I\u00a0thinke it not a\nvery vayne thing to coniecture by y^e figure of the\nface and the behaueour of the rest of the bodie, what\ndisposicion a man is of. Certes Aristotle so greate a\nphilosopher vouchsaued to put oute a booke of\nphisiognonomye verye cunnynge and well laboured. As\nsaylyng is more pleasaunt when wee haue borne the wynd\nand the tyde, so be we soner taught those things to\nthe whych we be inclined by redines of wyt. Virgyll\nhath shewed markes wherby a man may know an oxe good\nfor y^e plough, or a cowe meete for generacion &\nencrease of cattell. Beste is y^t oxe that looketh\ngrimly. He techeth by what tok[en]s you may espie a yong\ncolt mete for iusting. Straight waye the colt of a\nlusty courage tr\u00e3pleth garlic in the fieldes .&c. for\nyou know the verses. They are deceyued whyche beleue\nthat nature hathe geuen vnto man no markes, whereby\nhys disposici\u00f5 maye bee gathered, and they do amisse,\nthat do not marke them thar be geuen. Albeit in my\niudgemente there is scante anye discipline, but that\nthe wyt of man is apt to lerne it, if we continue in\npreceptes and exercise. For what may not a man learne,\nwhen an Eliphant maye be taught to walke vp\u00f5 a corde,\na\u00a0bear to daunse, and an asse to playe the foole. As\nnature therefore is in no mannes owne hande, so wee\nhaue taught wherin by some meanes we maye helpe\nnature. But good orderynge and exercise is altogether\nof our own witte and diligence. How much the waye to\nteach doth helpe, thys specially declareth, that we se\ndaylye, burdens to be lyft vp by engins and arte,\nwhiche otherwyse coulde bee moued by no strength. \u00b6\u00a0And\nhow greatly exercise auaileth that notable saying of\nthe old wise man, inespeciallye proueth, that he\nascribeth all thynges to diligence and study. But\nlabour, say they, is not meete for a tender age, &\nwhat readines to lerne can be in children whych yet\nscarse knowe that they are men: I\u00a0wyll answere to\nbothe these thinges in few wordes. How agreeth it that\nthat age shulde bee counted vnmeete for learnynge,\nwhych is nowe apte to learne good maners? But as there\nbe rudimentes of verture, so be there also of\nsciences. Philosophy hath his infancie, hys youthe,\nand rype age. An horsecolt, which forthwyth sheweth\nhis gentle kynd, is not straight way forced wyth the\nbytte to cary on his backe an armed manne, but wyth\neasy exercises he learneth the fashion of warre.\nThe calfe that is appoynted to the plowghe, is not\nstrayght wayes laden wyth werye yockes, nor prycked\nwyth sharpe godes, but as Virgyl hath elegantlye\ntaught: Fyrst they knyt aboute his necke circles made\nof tender twygges, and after when his free necke hathe\nbene accustumed to do seruice, they make rounde hoopes\nmete, & when they be wryth[en], ioyne a payre of meete\nons together, and so cause the yonge heyfers to gooe\nforwardes, and often tymes they make them to draw an\nempty cart, and sleightly go awaye, but afterwards\nthey set on a great heauy axeltree of beeche, and make\nthem to draw a great plough beame of yr\u00f5. Plowmen can\nskyll howe to handell oxen in youthe, and attemper\ntheir exercises after their strength muche more\ndiligently ought this to be done in bringing vp our\nchildren. Furthermore the prouid[en]ce of nature hath\ngeuen vnto litle ons a certen mete habilitte. An\ninfant is not yet meete to whome thou shuldest reade\ny^e offices of Cicero, or the Ethickes of Aristotle,\nor the moral bokes of Seneca or Plutarche, or the\nepistles of Paule, I\u00a0confesse, but yet if he do any\nthyng vncomly at the table, he is monyshed, and when\nhe is monyshed, he fashioneth hym selfe to do as he is\ntaught. He is brought into the temple, he lerneth to\nbowe his kne, to holde hys handes manerly, to put of\nhys cap, and to fashion all the behaueour of hys bodie\nto worshyp God, he is c\u00f5maunded to holde hys peace\nwhen misteries be in doyng, and to turne hys eyes to\nthe alter. These rudimentes of modestye and vertue the\nchilde lerneth before he can speake, which because\nthey sticke fast vntil he be elder, they profit\nsomwhat to true religi\u00f5. There is no differ[en]ce to a\nchyld when he is first borne, betwene his par[en]ntes &\nstraungers. Anon after he learneth to knowe his\nmother, & after his father. He learneth by litle & litle\nto reuer[en]ce th[em], he learneth to obey them, & to\nloue th[em]. He vnlerneth to be angrye, to be au[en]ged,\n& when he is bidd[en] kysse th[em] that he is \u00e3gry withal,\nhe doth it, & vnlerneth to bable out of measure. He\nlerneth to rise vp, & geue reuerence to an old m\u00e3, &\nto put of his cap at y^e image of the crucifix. Thei\nthat thinke y^t these lytle rudim[en]tes help nothing to\nvertue, in my mind be greatly deceiued, A\u00a0cert[en] yonge\nman wh[en] he was rebuked of Plato because he had plaied\nat dice c\u00f5plained y^t he was so bitterly chidd[en], for\nso litle harme. Th[en] quod Plato, although it be but\nsmal hurt to play at dice, yet is it great hurt to vse\nit. As it is therefore a greate euyll to accustume thy\nselfe to euyl, so to vse thy selfe to small good\nthynges is a greate good. And that tender age is so\nmuche the more apte to learne these thyngs, because of\nit selfe it is plyaunt vnto all fashions, because it\nis not yet occupyed wyth vyce, and is glad to folowe,\nif you shewe it to do any thinge. And as c\u00f5monlye it\naccustumeth it selfe to vyce, or euer it vnderstand\nwhat vyce is, so wyth lyke easynes maye it be\naccustumed to vertue. And it is beste to vse best\nthinges euen at the fyrst. That fashion wyll endure\nlonge, to the which you make the empty and tender\nmynde. Horace wrote that if you thruste oute nature\nwyth a forke, yet wyll it styll come againe. He wrot\nit and that very truly, but he wrote it of an olde\ntre. Therefore the wise husband man wil straight waye\nfashion the plante after that maner whyche he wyll\nhaue tarye for euer when it is a tree. It wyll soone\nturne in to nature, that you powre in fyrste of all.\nClaye if it be to moyste wyl not kepe the fashion that\nis prynted in it: the waxe may be so softe that\nnothynge can bee made of it. But scarse is there any\nage so tender that is not able to receyue learnyng. No\nage sayth Seneca, is to late to learne: whether that\nbe true or no I wot not, surely elderly age is very\nharde to learne some thyngs. This is doutles, that no\nage is so yonge but it is apte to be taught,\ninespecially those thynges vnto the whych nature hathe\nmade vs, for as I sayd: for thys purpose she hath\ngeuen a certen peculier desyre of folowyng, that what\nso euer they haue herde or seene, they desyre to do\nthe lyke, and reioyse when they thynke they can do any\nthyng: a\u00a0man wolde saye they wer apes. And of thys\nryseth the fyrste coniecture of their wyt and aptnes\nto be taughte. Therefore assone as the man chyld is\nborne, anone he is apte to lerne maners. After wh[en] he\nhath begon to speake, he is mete to be taught letters.\nOf what thynge regarde is fyrste to be had, a\u00a0readines\nby & by is geuen to lerne it. For learnyng although it\nhaue infinite commodities, yet excepte it wayte vpon\nvertue, it bryngeth more harme then good. Worthilye\nwas refused of wyse menne theire sentence, which\nthought that children vnder seuen yere olde shulde not\nbe set to lernyng: and of thys sayinge many beleued\nHesiodus to be the author, albeit Aristophanes the\ngramarian sayd, that those morall preceptes in the\nwhych worke it was written, were not made by Hesiodus.\nYet nedes must be some excell[en]t wryter, which put\nforth such a booke that euen learned menne thought it\nto be of Hesiodus doing. But in case it were Hesiodus,\nwithout doute yet no mans authoritie oughte to be of\nsuche force vnto vs, that we shulde not folowe the\nbetter if it be shewed vs. Howebeit who soeuer wer of\nthys mynd, they meant not thys, that all thys time\nvntyll seuen yeres shulde bee quite voyde of teachyng,\nbut that before that tyme chyldren shulde not bee\ntroubled wyth the laboure of studies, in the whych\ncerteine tediousnes muste bee deuoured, as of cannyng\nwythout booke, sayinge the lesson agayn, and wyth\nwrytinge it, for scant maye a man fynde anye that\nhathe so apte a wytte to bee taught, so tractable and\nthat so wil folowe, whyche wyll accustume it selfe to\nthese thynges wythout prickyng forward. Chrisippus\napoynted thre yeres to the nourses, not that in the\nmeane space there shuld be no teachynge of manners,\nand speach, but that the infante shulde be prepared by\nfayr meanes to lern vertue and letters, ether of the\nnurses, or of the parentes, whose maners wythout\nperadu[en]ture do help very much to the good fashionynge\nof chyldren. And because the fyrste teachyng of\nchyldren is, to speake playnly and wythout faute, in\nthis afore tyme the nourses and the parentes helpe not\na lytle. Thys begynnyng, not only very muche profiteth\nto eloqu[en]ce, but also to iudgement, and to the\nknowledge of all disciplines: for the ignoraunce of\ntonges, eyther hath marred all the sciences, or\ngreatly hurt th[em], eu[en] diuinitie it selfe also,\nphisicke & law. The eloquence of the Gracchians was\nmuche merueyled at in tyme paste, but for the most\nthey myghte thanke theyr mother Cornelia for it,\nas Tullie iudgeth. It apeareth sayth he, that the\nchyldren wer not so much brought vp in the mothers\nlappe, as in the mothers c\u00f5municacion. So theyr fyrste\nscholyng was to them the mothers lap. Lelia also\nexpressed in her goodly talke the eloquence of her\nfather Caius. And what marueile. While she was yet\nyonge she was dyed wyth her fathers communicacion,\neuen when she was borne in his armes. The same\nhappened to the two sisters, Mucia and Licinia, neeces\nvnto Caius. Specially is praysed the elegaunce of\nLicinia in speakyng, whiche was the daughter of Lucius\nCrassus, one Scipios wyfe as I weene. What nedes many\nwords? All the house and all the kynred euen to the\nnepheus, and their cosyns dyd often expresse elegance\nof their fore fathers in artificiall and cunnyng\nspeakyng. The daughter of Quintus Hortencius so\nexpressed her fathers eloquence, that ther was longe\nago an oracion of hers to se, that she made before the\nofficers called Triumuiri, not only (as Fabius sayth)\nto the prayse of womankynd. To speake without faut no\nlitle helpe brynge also the nourses, tutors, and\nplayefelowes. For as touching the tonges, so great is\nthe readines of that age to learne them, that within a\nfew monethes a chylde of Germany maye learne Frenche,\nand that whyle he dothe other thinges also: neyther\ndothe that thynge come euer better to passe then in\nrude and verye yonge yeres. And if this come to passe\nin a barbarous and vnruled tonge, whych wryteth other\nwyse then it speaketh, and the whych hathe hys\nschriches and wordes scarse of a man, howe muche more\neasely wyl it be done in the Greeke or Latine tonge?\nKyng Mithridates is read to haue perfitly knowen\n.xxii. tonges, so that he could plead the lawe to\neuery nacion in their owne tonges wythoute anye\ninterpreter. \u00b6\u00a0Themistocles within a yeres space lerned\nperfitely the Persians tong because he wolde the\nbetter c\u00f5men wyth the kyng. If s[um]what old age can do\nthat, what is to be hoped for of a chylde? And all\nthis businesse standeth specially in two thynges,\nmemorye and imitacion. We haue shewed before alredy\nthat there is a certein naturall greate desyre in\nchyldren to folowe other, and very wyse men wryte that\nmemorie in chyldren is verye sure in holdinge faste:\nand if we distrust there authoritie, experience it\nselfe wyll proue it vnto vs. Those thynges that we\nhaue seene beying chyldren, they so abide in our\nmindes, as thou we had sene them yesterdaie. Thinges\nthat we read today wh[en] we be old, wythin two daies\nafter if we read th[em] agayn they seme newe vnto vs.\nFurthermore howe fewe haue we seene whych haue had\ngood successe in lernynge the tonges when they were\nolde? And if some haue wel spedde them in knowledge,\nyet the right sound and pronunciacion hath chaunsed\neither to none, or to very few. For rare examples be\nno common rules. Neyther for thys muste we call\nchyldren to lerne the tonges after sixtene yere olde,\nbecause that the elder Cato lerned latine, and Greeke,\nwhen he was thre score and ten yeres olde. But Cato of\nVtica muche better lerned then the other and more\neloquent, when he was a chylde was continuallye wyth\nhys master Sarpedo. And h[en]ce we ought so much the more\nto take heede, because that yonge age led rather by\nsense then iudgem[en]t, wyll assone or peraduenture soner\nlerne leudnes & things y^t be naught. Yea we forget\nsoner good thinges th[en] naught. Gentile philosophers\nespyed that, & merueyled at it, and could not search\nout the cause, whiche christ[en] philosophers haue shewed\nvnto vs: which telleth y^t this redines to mischiefe\nis setteled in vs of Adam the first father of m\u00e3kind.\nThys thynge as it can not be false, so is it very\ntrue, that the greateste parte of this euyll c\u00f5meth of\nleude and naughty bryngyng vp, inespeciallye of tender\nyouthe, whyche is plyeable to euerye thynge.\n\n\u00b6 We fynd in writyng that great Alexander lerned\ncerteine fautes of hys master Leonides, whyche he\ncould not leaue when he was well grow[en] vp, and a great\nEmperour. Therfore as long as amonge the latines\nfloryshed that old vertuousnes of good maners,\nchyldren were not committed to an hyrelynge to be\ntaught, but were taughte of the parentes them selues &\ntheir kinsfolke, as of their vncles both by father and\nmother, of the graundfathers, as Plutarch sayth: For\nthey thought it especially perteyned to the honour of\ntheir kynred, if they had very manye excellentlye well\nseene in liberall knowledge, where as now adayes all\nnobilitie almost st\u00e3deth in painted & grauen armes,\ndauncing, huntynge and dicynge. Spurius Carbilius of a\nbond man made free, whose patron Carbilius brought in\nthe fyrste example of diuorce, is reported to be the\nfyrste that taught an op[en] gr\u00e3mer schole. Before thys\ntyme it was counted a verye vertuous office if euery\nm\u00e3 taughte hys kynsefolke in vertue and lernyng. Nowe\nis thys theyr onlye care, to seeke for their chyld a\nwyfe wyth a good dowrye. That done, they thynke they\nhaue done all that belongeth to a father. But as the\nworld is alwayes redy to be worse and worse, dayntines\nhathe perswaded vs to comune this office to a tuter\nthat is one of our householde, and a gentleman is put\nto be taught of a seruaunte. In whyche thynge in\ndeede, if we wolde take heede whom we chose, the\nieopardy were so muche the lesse, because the teacher\nliued not only in y^e fathers syght, but also wer\nvnder hys power if he dyd amysse. They that wer very\nwyse, either bought lerned seruauntes, or prouided\nthey myghte be lerned, that they myghte be teachers to\ntheir children. But howe muche wyser were it, if the\nparents wolde get lernyng for thys entent, that they\nthem selues myght teach theyr owne chyldren. Verelye\nby thys meanes the profite wolde be double, as the\nc\u00f5moditie is double if the Byshoppe shewe hym selfe a\ngood man, to the entente he maye encourage very many\nto the loue of vertue. Thou wyle saye; euerye m\u00e3 hath\nnot leasure, and they be lothe to take so greate\npayne. But go to good syr, Lette vs caste wyth oure\nselfe howe muche tyme wee lose at dice, bankettynge,\nand beholdynge gaye syghtes, and playinge wyth fooles,\nand I weene wee shall bee ashamed, to saye wee lacke\nleasure to that thynge whych oughte to be done, all\nother set asyde. We haue tyme sufficiente to do all we\nshoulde do, if we bestowe it so thriftelye as we\nshulde do. But the daye is short to vs, wh[en] we lose\nthe greater part thereof. Consider thys also, howe\ngreate a porcion of tyme is geuen now and then to the\nfoelyshe busines of our friendes. If we can not do as\nthey all wolde haue vs, verelye wee oughte chiefely to\nregarde our chyldren. What payne refuse we to leaue\nvnto oure chyldren a ryche patrimonye and well\nstablished: and to get that for them whiche is better\nthen all this, shulde it yrke vs to take laboure?\nnamelye when naturall loue and the profite of them\nwhyche be mooste deareste vnto vs, maketh sweete al\nthe grief and payne. If that were not, when wolde the\nmothers beare so longe tediousenes of chyldbyrth and\nnursyng. He loueth his sonne lyghtlye whych is greued\nto teache hym. \u00b6\u00a0But the manner to enstructe them was\nthe more easy to them in olde tyme, because the\nlearned and vnlearned people spake all one tong, saue\nthat the learned spake more truelye, more elegantly,\nmore wiselye, and more copiouselye. I\u00a0confesse that,\nand it were a very shorte way to learnynge, if it were\nso nowe a dayes. And there haue bene some that haue\ngone aboute to renewe and brynge again those olde\nexamples, and to doo as those olde fathers haue done\nafore tyme, as in Phrisia, Canterians, in Spayne\nQueene Elisabeth the wyfe of Fardinandus, out of whose\nfamilye there haue come forthe verye manye womenne\nbothe merueylouselye well learned and verteouse. Emong\nthe englishe men, it greued not the ryght worshypful\nThomas More, although beyng much occupyed in the\nkynges matters, to be a teacher to hys wyfe,\ndaughters, and sonne, fyrste in vertue, and after to\nknowledge of Greke and Latine. Verely this ought to be\ndone in those that we haue apoynted to learnynge.\nNeyther is there anye ieopardie that they shulde be\nignoraunt in the peoples tonge, for thei shall learne\nthat whether they wyl or not by companye of men. And\nif there be none in oure house that is lerned, anon we\nshulde prouide for some cunnyng man, but tryed both in\nmaners and lernyng. It is a folyshe thyng to make a\nprofe in thy sone, as in a slaue of litle value,\nwhether hys teacher be learned or not, and whether he\nbee a good man that thou haste gotten hym or not. In\nother thinges pardon may be geuen to negligence, but\nhere thou muste haue as manye eyes as Argus had, and\nmuste be as vigilant as is possible. They say: a\u00a0man\nmaye not twyse do a faute in war: here it is not\nlaweful to do once amisse. Moreouer the soner the\nchild shall be set to a master, so much shal hys\nbrynginge vp come the better to passe. I\u00a0knowe some\nmen fynde thys excuse, that it is ieopardy lest the\nlabour of studies make y^e good health of the tender\nbodye weaker. Here I myght ensure, y^t althoughe the\nstrength of the bodye wer sumwhat taken awaye, that\nthys inc\u00f5moditie is well recompensed by so goodly\ngyftes of the mynd. For we fashion not a wrestler, but\na philosopher, a\u00a0gouernour of the common wealth, to\nwh\u00f5 it is sufficient to be healthful, although he haue\nnot the strengthe of Milo: yet do I c\u00f5fesse that\nsomewhat we must tender the age, that it maye waxe the\nmore lustye. But there be manye that foolyshely do\nfeare leste their chyldren shulde catche harme by\nlearnynge, whych yet feare not the much greater peryll\nthat cometh of to muche meate, whereby the wyttes of\nthe litle ons no lesse be hurted then bee theyr bodyes\nby kyndes of meates and drynkes that be not meete for\nthat age. They brynge theyr lytle children to great\nand longe feastes, yea feastyng sometyme vntyl farre\nforth nyghtes, they fyl them wyth salt and hoat\nmeates, somtyme eu[en] tyl thei vomite. They bynde in and\nloade the tender bodies wyth vnhandsome garmentes to\nset them out, as some trym apes, in mans apparel, and\notherwayes they weaken their children, and they neuer\nmore tenderlye be afrayed of their health, then when\nc\u00f5munication is begon to be had of lernynge, that is\nof that thynge whych of al other is moste wholesom and\nnecessarye. That whych we haue spoken touchyng health,\nthat same perteineth to the care of hys bewety, whyche\nas I confesse is not to be lyght set bye, so to\ncarefully to be regarded, is not very meete for a man.\n[Sidenote: A\u00a0wayward feare for hurting childr[en]s\nbewtye.] Neyther do we more weywardlye fear any other\nthyng then the hurt of it to come by studie, where it\nis hurt a greate deale more by surfet, dronkennes,\nvntymelye watchynge, by fyghtyng and woundes, finally\nby vngracious pockes, which scarse anie man escapeth\nthat liueth intemperatly. From these thyngs rather let\nth[em] see they keepe their children then fr\u00f5 lernyng,\nwhych so carefully take thought for the health and\nbewtie. [Sidenote: Prouisi\u00f5 for easinge chyldrens\nlabour] Howbeit thys also may be prouided for by our\ncare & dilig[en]ce that ther shuld be very litle labour\nand therfore litle losse. This shal be if neyther many\nthyngs, neither euery lyght thynge be taught them when\nthey be yong, but the best only & that be mete for\ntheir age, whiche is delighted rather in pleasa[un]t\nthynges then in subtile. Secondly, a\u00a0fayre manoure of\nteachynge shall cause y^t it may seme rather a playe\nthen a labour, for here the age must be beguiled with\nsweete flattering wordes, which yet c\u00e3 not tell what\nfruit, what honour, what pleasure lernyng shall brynge\nvnto them in tyme to come. And this partly shal be\ndone by the teachers g[en]tlenes & curteous behaueour, &\npartlye by his wit & subtile practise, wherbi he shal\ndeuise diuerse prety meanes to make lerning plesa[un]t to\ny^e chylde, & pul hym away fr\u00f5 feling of labour. For\nthere is nothynge worse then when the waywardnes of\nthe master causeth the children to hate lernyng before\nthey knowe wherefore it shulde be loued. The fyrst\ndegree of lerning, is the loue of the master. In\nprocesse of tyme it shall come to passe that the chyld\nwhych fyrst began to loue lernyng for the masters\nsake, afterwards shall loue the master because of\nlernyng. For as many giftes are very dere vnto vs eu[en]\nfor thys cause, that they come from them whome wee\nloue hertelye: so lernyng, to whom it can not yet be\npleasaunt thorowe discrescion, yet to them it is\nacceptable for the loue they beare to the teacher. It\nwas very well spoken of Isocrates that he lerneth very\nmuch, whych is desirous of lernyng. And we gladlye\nlerne of them whome we loue. But some be of so\nvnpleasaunt maners that they can not bee loued, no not\nof their wyues, theyr countena[un]ce lowryng, their\ncompanye currishe, they seme angrye euen when they be\nbeste pleased, they can not speke fayre, scarse can\nthey laughe when men laugh vpon them, a\u00a0man wold saye\nthey were borne in an angrye hour. These men I iudge\nscant worthye to whome we shulde put oure wylde horses\nto be broken, muche lesse wuld I thynke that thys\ntender and almost suckynge age shuld be committed to\nthem. Yet be ther some that thynke that these kynde of\nmen, euen inespecyally worthye to be set to teache\nyonge chyldren, whylest they thynke their sturdynes in\nlookynge is holynes. But it is not good trustyng the\nlookes, vnder that frownynge face lurke oft[en] tymes\nmost vnchaste and wanton maners, neyther is to be\nspoken amonge honeste men, to what shamefulnes these\nbouchers abuse chyldren by fearyng them. No nor the\nparents th[em] selues can well bring vp theyr chyldr[en],\nif they be no more but feared. The fyrste care is to be\nbeloued, by lytle and lytle foloweth after, not feare,\nbut a certen liberall and gentle reuerence which is\nmore of value then feare. Howe properly then I praye\nyou be those chyldren prouided for, which being yet\nscante foure yere olde are sente to schole, where\nsytteth an vnknowen scholemaster, rude of manners, not\nverye sober, and sometyme not well in hys wytte, often\nlunatike, or hauynge the fallyng sycknes, or frenche\npockes? For there is none so vyle, so naughte, so\nwretched, whome the common people thynketh not\nsufficiente ynoughe to teache a grammer schole. And\nthei thynkyng they haue gotten a kingdome, it is\nmarueyle to see howe they set vp the brystels because\nthei haue rule, not vpon beastes, as sayeth Terence,\nbut vp\u00f5 that age whiche ought to be cheryshed wyth all\ngentlenes. You wolde saye it were not a schole, but a\ntormentynge place: nothynge is hearde there beside the\nflappynge vpon the hande, beside yorkynge of roddes,\nbesyde howlynge and sobbinge and cruell threatnynges.\nWhat other thynge maye chyldren learne hereof, then to\nhate learnyng? When this hatered hath once setteled in\nthe tender myndes, yea when they be old they abhorre\nstudye. It is also muche more foolyshe, that some men\nsende their lytle chyldren to a pyuyshe dronken woman\nto learne to reade and wryte. It is agaynste nature\nthat women shulde haue rule vpon menne: besyde that,\nnothynge is more cruell then that kynde, if they bee\nmoued with anger, as it wyll soone be, and wyll not\ncease tyll it be full reuenged. Monasteries also, and\ncolleges of brethern, for so they cal them selues,\nseeke for their liuynge hereof, and in theyr darke\ncorners teache the ignoraunt chyldren commenlye by\nmenne that be but a lytle learned, or rather leudlye\nlearned, althoughe we graunte they bee bothe wyse and\nhoneste. \u00b6\u00a0Thys kynde of teachynge howe so euer other\nmenne alowe it, by my counsell no manne shall vse it,\nwho soeuer entendeth to haue hys child well brought\nvp. It behoueth that eyther there were no schole, or\nelse to haue it openlye abrode. It is a shorte waye in\ndede that c\u00f5monlye is vsed: for manye be compelled of\none more easelye by feare, that one brought vp of one\nliberallye. \u00b6\u00a0But it is no great thynge to beare rule\nvpon Asses or Swyne, but to brynge vp chyldren\nliberallye as it is veri hard, so is it a goodly\nthing. It is tiranny to oppresse citizens by feare,\nto keepe them in good order, by loue, moderacion and\nprudence, it is princely. Diogenes beynge taken out of\nthe Agenites, and brought oute to be solde, the cryer\naxed hym by what title he wolde be set out to the\nbyer. Axe quod he if any wyl bye a man that can rule\nchyldren. At this straunge prayse manye laughed.\nOne that hadde chyldren at home communed wyth the\nphilosopher, whether he could do in deede that he\nprofessed. He sayde he coulde. By shorte communicacion\nhe perceyued he was not of the c\u00f5mon sorte, but vnder\na pore cloke, ther was hydden great wisedome: he\nbought hym, and brought hym home, & put his chyldr[en] to\nhim to be taught. As y^e Scots say, ther be no greater\nbeaters then frenche scholemasters. When they be tolde\nthereof, they be wonte to answere, that that naci\u00f5\neuen lyke the Phrigians is not am[en]ded but bi stripes.\nWhether this be true let other m[en] iudge. Yet I graunt\nthat there is some difference in the nacion, but much\nmore in the propertie of euerye seueral wyt. Some you\nshal soner kyl, then amende wyth stripes: but the same\nbi loue and gentle monicions you may leade whither ye\nwyll. Truth it is that of thys disposicion I my selfe\nwas when I was a childe, and when my master whych\nloued me aboue all other, because he sayd he conceiued\na certen great hope of me, toke more heede, watched me\nwell, and at laste to proue howe I could abyde the\nrod, and laying a faute vnto my charge which I neuer\nthought of, did beat me, that thinge so put awaye from\nme all the loue of studie, and so discouraged my\nchyldyshe mynd, that for sorowe I hadde almost\nconsumed awaye, and in deede folowed therof a\nquartaine ague. When at laste he had perceiued hys\nfaute, among his friendes he bewailed it. \u00b6\u00a0This wyt\n(quod he) I\u00a0had almoste destroyed before I knewe it.\nFor he was a man both wyttye and well learned, and as\nI thynke, a\u00a0good m\u00e3. He rep[en]ted him, but to late for\nmy parte. Here nowe (good syr) c\u00f5iecture me howe many\nfrowarde wyttes these vnlerned greate beaters do\ndestroye, yet proud in their owne conceite of\nlearnyng, wayeward, dronken, cruel, and that wyl beate\nfor their pleasure: them selues of suche a cruell\nnature, that they take plesure of other mens\ntormentes. These kynde of men shuld haue ben bouchers\nor hangm[en], not teachers of youth. Neyther do any\ntorment chyldren more cruelly, th[en] they that canne not\nteache them. \u00b6\u00a0What shulde thei do in scholes but passe\nthe daye in chydyng and beatynge? I\u00a0knewe a diuine and\nthat familierly, a\u00a0man of greate name, whych was neuer\nsatisfied wyth crudelity against his scholers, wh[en] he\nhim selfe had masters that were very great beaters. He\nthought y^t dyd much helpe to caste downe the fiersnes\nof their wittes, & tame the w\u00e3tonnes of their youth.\nHe neuer feasted amonge hys flocke, but as Comedies be\nwont to haue a mery endyng, so contrary when they had\neaten theyr meat, one or other was haled oute to be\nbeaten wyth roddes: and sometime he raged against them\nthat had deserued nothynge, euen because they shuld be\naccustumed to stripes. I\u00a0my selfe on a time stode\nnerre hym, when after diner he called out a boie as he\nwas w\u00f5t to do, as I trow ten yere olde. And he was but\nnewe come frome hys mother into that compani. He told\nvs before that the chyld had a very good woman to hys\nmother, and was earnestly committed of her vnto hym:\nanon to haue an occacion to beate hym, he beganne to\nlaye to hys charge I wotte not what w\u00e3tonnesse: When\nthe chylde shewed hym selfe to haue nothyng lesse,\nand beckened to hym to whome he committed the chyefe\nrule of hys colledge, surnamed of the thynge,\na\u00a0tormentoure, to beate, hym ne by and by caste doune\nthe chylde, and beate hym as thoughe he had done\nsacrilege. The diuine sayde once or twyse, it is\ninoughe, it is inoughe. But that tormentour deaffe\nwith feruentnes, made no ende of his bochery, tyl the\nchylde was almost in a sounde: Anon the diuine\nturninge to vs, he hathe deserued nothynge quod he,\nbut that he muste be made lowe. Who euer after that\nmaner hath taught hys slaue, or hys Asse? A\u00a0g[en]tle\nhorse is better tamed with puping of the mouth or\nsofte handlyng, then wyth whyp or spurres. And if you\nhandle hym hard, he wil whynche, he wyll kycke, he\nwyll byte, and go backwardes. An oxe if you pricke hym\nto harde wyth godes, wyl caste of his yocke, and run\nvpon hym that pricked hym. So muste a gentle nature be\nhandled as is the whelpe of a Lion. Onlye arte tameth\nElephantes, not violence, neyther is there any beaste\nso wylde, but that it wyl be tamed by gentlenes,\nneyther any so tame, but immoderate cruelnes wil anger\nit. It is a seruyle thynge to be chastened by feare,\nand common custume calleth chyldren free men, because\nliberall and gentle bringyng vp becommeth them, much\nvnlike to seruile. Yet they that be wyse do thys\nrather, that seruantes by gentelnes and benefites\nleaue of their slauyshe condicions: rem[em]bryng that\nthey also be men, and not beastes. There be rehearsed\nmeruelous examples of seruauntes toward their masters,\nwhome verely they shulde not haue founde such if they\nhadde kept them vnder only by strypes. \u00b6\u00a0A\u00a0seruaunt if\nhe be corrigible is better amended by monicions, by\nhonestie, & good turnes, then by stripes: if he be\npaste amendmente, he is hardened to extreme mischief\nand eyther wyll runne awaye and rob hys master, or by\nsome craft go aboute his masters deathe. Sometime he\nis reuenged on his masters crueltie, thoughe it coste\nhym his lyfe. And there is no creature more fereful\nth[en] man, wh\u00f5 cruell iniurie hathe taught to dispyse\nhis owne lyfe. Therfore the comm\u00f5 prouerb that sayth a\nman hath as manye enemies as he hath seruauntes, If it\nbe true, I\u00a0thynke it may be chiefly imputed to the\nvnreasonablenes of the master: for it is a poynte of\narte, and not of chaunce to rule wel seruauntes. And\nif the wyser masters go aboute thys thynge, so to vse\ntheir seruauntes, that thei shuld serue them well and\ngently, and in stede of seruantes had rather haue them\nfre men, how shameful is it bi bryngyng vp, to make\nseruantes of those that be gentle and free by nature?\nNor wythout cause dothe the olde manne in the comedie\nthynke that there is greate difference betwixte a\nmaster and a father. The master only compelleth,\nthe father by honestie and gentelnes accustumeth hys\nsonne, to do well of hys owne mynde, rather then by\nfeare of an other: and that he shulde bee all one in\nhys presence and behind hys backe. He that can not do\nthis sayth he, lette hym confesse that he can not rule\nchyldren. But there oughte to be a litle more\ndifference betwyxte a father and the master, then\nbetwixt a kinge and a tirant. Wee putte awaye a\ntiraunte from the common wealthe, and we chose\ntirauntes, yea for oure sonnes, eyther we oure selfes\nexercyse tirannye vpon them. Howebeit thys vyle name\nof seruitude oughte vtterlye to be taken awaye oute of\nthe lyfe of chrysten menne. Sainte Paule desyreth\nPhilo to bee good to Onesimus, not nowe as a\nseruaunte, but as a deere brother in steede of a\nseruaunte. And wrytyng to the Ephesians, he monysheth\nthe masters to remitte theyr bytternesse agaynst theyr\nseruauntes, and their threatnynges, remembrynge that\nthey are rather felow seruauntes then masters, because\nthey both haue a common master in heauen, whyche as\nwell wyll punyshe the masters if they do amysse, as\nthe seruauntes. The Apostle wolde not haue the masters\nful of threatning, muche lesse full of beatynge: for\nhe saythe not, pardonynge your strypes, but pardonynge\nyour threatenynges, and yet wee woulde haue oure\nchyldren nothynge but beaten, whyche scarse the Galeye\nmasters or Sea robbers do agaynste theyr slaues and\nrowers. But of chyldren, what dothe the same Apostle\ncommaunde vs?\n\n\u00b6 In somuch he wyll not haue them beaten slauyshely,\nhe c\u00f5maundeth all crueltye and bytternes to be awaye\nfrom our monicions and chydyng. You fathers saythe he,\nprouoke not your chyldren to anger, but bring them vp\nin discipline and chastisyng of the Lorde. And what\nthe discipline of the lorde is, he shal soone se that\nwyll consider, wyth what gentlenes, what meekenes,\nwhat charitie the Lord Iesus hath taught, suffered and\nnoryshed and brought vp by litle and lytle his\ndisciples. The lawes of man do temper the fathers\npower: the same also permit vnto the seruauntes an\naccion of euyll handlyng, and from whence then commeth\nthys crueltye amonge christen men? In time paste one\nAuxon a knight of Rome, whylest he wente about to\namende hys sonne by beatynge hyn vnmesurably, he\nkylled him. That crueltye so moued the people, that\nthe fathers and chyldren haled hym in to the market\nplace, & al to be pricked hym, thrust him in with\ntheyr wrytyng pinnes, nothynge regarding the dignitie\nof his knighthod, and Octauus Augustus had much a do\nto saue hym. But now a daies howe many Auxons do we\nsee whiche thorowe cruell beatynge, hurte the\nchyldrens healthe, make them one eyed, weaken them,\nand sometyme kyll them. Roddes serue not to some mens\ncrueltie, they turne them and beate th[em] wyth the great\nende, they geue them buffettes, and stryke the yonge\nons wyth their fistes, or whatsoeuer is next at hand\nthey snatche it, and dashe it vpon them. It is told in\nthe lawe, that a certen sowter, when he layd one of\nhys sowters vpon the hynder parte of the heade wyth a\nlaste, he stroke oute one of hys eyes, and that for\nthat deede he was punyshed by the lawe. What shall we\nsaye of them whyche beside their beatinges, do th[em]\nshamefull despite also? I\u00a0wolde neuer haue beleued it,\nexcepte both I had knowen the chylde, and the doer of\nthis crueltie perfitelye.\n\n\u00b6 A\u00a0chylde yet scante .vii. yere olde, whose honeste\nparentes had done good to his master, they handled so\ncruellye, that scarse anye suche tiraunt as was\nMezencius or Phalaris coulde do more cruelly. They\ncaste so much mans donge into the childes mouth y^t\nscarsely he coulde spit, but was c\u00f5pelled to swallowe\ndoune a great parte of it. What tiraunt dyd euer suche\nkynde of despyght? After suche daynties, they\nexercysed suche lozdelynes. The chylde naked was\nhanged vp wyth cordes by y^e armeholes, as though he\nhadde bene a stronge thyefe, and there is amonge to\nGermanes no kynde of punishement more abhorred then\nthys. Anone as he honge, they all to beat hym wyth\nroddes, almoste euen tyll deathe. For the more the\nchylde denyed the thynge that he dyd not, so muche the\nmore dyd they beate hym. Put also to thys, the\ntormentour hym selfe almoste more to be feared then\nthe verie punyshemente, hys eyes lyke a serpente,\nhys narowe and wrythen mouth, hys sharpe voyce like a\nspirite, hys face wanne and pale, hys head roulyng\nabout, threatninges and rebukes suche as they lusted\nin theyr anger: a\u00a0manne wolde haue thought it a furie\nout of hel. What folowed? anone after this punishement\nthe chyld fel sicke, with great ieopardye both of\nmynde and lyfe. Then this tormentour began fyrst to\ncomplayne, he wrote to hys father to take awaye hys\nsonne as sone as could be, and that he had bestowed as\nmuch phisicke vpon him as he coulde, but in vayne vpon\nthe chylde that was paste remedye. \u00b6\u00a0When the sicknes of\nthe body was somewhat put away by medicines, yet was\nthe minde so astonied, that we feared leste he wold\nneuer come agayne to the olde strength of hys mynd.\nNeither was thys y^e cruelty of one daye, as longe as\nthe childe dwelte wyth hym there passed no daye but he\nwas cruelly beat[en] once or twise. I\u00a0know y^u suspectest\no reader, that it was an haynouse faute, wherunto so\ncruell remedie was vsed. I\u00a0wyl shew you in few words.\nTher was fo[un]d both of hys y^t was beaten, and of two\nothers, theire bookes blotted wyth ynke, their\ngarmentes cutte, and their hose arayed wyth mannes\ndonge.\n\n\u00b6 He that played thys playe was a chylde borne to all\nmyschiefe, whiche by other vngracious deedes\nafterwardes, made men beleue the other to be true that\nwere done before. And he was nephewe by the systers\nsyde to this mad docter: eu[en] then playing a part\nbefore to these thyngs whych souldiers are wont to do\nin bataile or robbynge. At an hostes house of his, he\npulled oute the faucet, and let the wyne runne vp\u00f5 the\nground, and as one to shew a pleasure, he sayde that\nhe felt the sauour of the wyne: wyth an other of hys\nfelowes he daylye played at the sworde, not in sporte,\nbut in earnest, that euen then you myght wel perceyue\nhe wolde be a thyefe or a murtherer, or whych is very\nlyke to them, that he wolde be an hyred souldier.\nAlthough the teacher fauored hym, yet fearynge leste\nthey shulde one kyll an other, he sente awaye his\ncosen. For he had for that other a good rewarde: and\nhe was of this sorte of gospellers, to whom nothing is\nmore swete then monei. His godfather was made surely\nto beleue that the child was w^t a good and diligent\nmaster, when in deede he dwelte wyth a boucher, & was\ncontinually in company, and made drudge with a man\nthat was halfe mad, and continually sicke. Thus\nfauoringe more his kynseman then hym by whom he had so\nmuch profite, the suspicion was layde vpon the\nharmeles, to whom they ascribed so muche malice that\nhe wolde teare and defile his owne garmentes to auoide\nsuspicion if any suche thyng had bene done. But the\nchild commyng both of good father and mother, dyd\nneuer shewe any tok[en] of such a naughtie disposicion:\nand at thys daye there is nothing farther from all\nmalice then are hys maners, whyche nowe free frome all\nfeare telleth all the matter in order as it was donne.\n\n\u00b6 To suche tutors do honest citizens committe their\nchyldren whome they moste loue, and suche do complayne\nthat they be not wel rewarded for their paynes. And\nthis tormentour wolde not once knoweledge he had done\namisse, but had rather playe the starke mad man, then\nconfesse his faute: and yet agaynst such is not taken\nan accion of euyll handlyng, neither hath the rigoure\nof the lawe anye power agaynste suche huge crueltie.\nThere is no anger worse to be pleased th[en] theirs that\nbe lyke to haue the fallynge sycknes. Howe many things\nbe crepte in, into the lyfe of christen men, not meete\nneither for the Phrigians nor y^e Scithians, of y^e\nwhich I wyl shew one much like this matter. The yong\ngentlem\u00e3 is send in to y^e vniuersitie to lerne the\nliberall sciences. But w^t how vngentle despightes is\nhe begun in them? Fyrst they rub his chyn, as though\nthey wolde shaue his bearde: hereunto thei vse pisse,\nor if ther be any fouler thyng. This liquour is dashed\ninto his mouth, & he may not spit it out. Wyth\npaynfull bobbes they make as though thei drewe hornes\nfrom him: s\u00f5time he is c\u00f5pelled to drinke a great\ndeale of vinegre or salte, or whatsoeuer it listeth y^e\nwyld c\u00f5pany of yong m[en] to geue him: for wh[en] they\nbegin the play, thei make him swere y^t he shal obey\nal that they c\u00f5maund him. At last they hoyse him vp,\n& dashe his backe against a post as oft[en] as they list.\nAfter these so rustical despightes s[um]time foloweth an\nague or a paine of y^e backe y^t neuer c\u00e3 be remedied.\nCertes this foolishe play endeth in a dr\u00f5ken b\u00e3ket:\nw^t such beginninges enter they into y^e studies of\nliberal sciences. But it were mete that after this\nsorte ther shuld begin a boucher, a\u00a0torm[en]tour a baud\nor a b\u00f5de slaue or a botem\u00e3, not a child appointed to\ny^e holy studies of lerning. It is a meruel that yong\nm[en] geuen to liberal studies be mad after this fashi\u00f5,\nbut it is more meruel y^t these things be alowed of\nsuche as haue the rule of youth. To so foule & cruel\nfolyshenes is pret[en]sed the name of custume, as though\nthe custume of an euil thing wer any thing else th[en] an\nold errour, whiche ought so much the more dilig[en]tly to\nbe pulled vp bicause it is crept among many. So\nc\u00f5tinueth am\u00f5g the diuines y^e maner of a vesper, for\nthey note an euyl thynge w^t a like name, more mete\nfor scoffers th[en] diuines. But thei y^t professe\nliberal sci[en]ces, shuld haue also liberal sports. But I\ncome againe to chyldren, to whome nothyng is more\nvnprofitable, then to be vsed to stripes, whiche\nenormittie causeth that the g[en]tle nature is\nintractable, and the viler driuen to desperacion:\nand c\u00f5tinuaunce of th[em] maketh that both the bodye is\nhardened to stripes, & the mynd to wordes. Nay we may\nnot oftentymes chyde th[em] to sharplye. A\u00a0medicine\nnaughtelye vsed, maketh the sickenes worse, helpeth it\nnot, and if it be layde to continuallye, by litle and\nlitle, it ceaseth to be a medicine, and dothe nothinge\nelse then dothe stinkynge and vnwholesome meate. But\nhere some man wyl laye vnto vs the godlye sayings of\nthe Hebrues. He that spareth the rod hateth hys chylde\nand he that loueth hys sonne, beateth hym muche.\nAgayne: Bowe downe the necke of thy chylde in youth,\nand beate hys sydes whyle he is an infante very yonge.\nSuche chastisemente peraduenture was meete in tyme\npaste for the Iewes. Nowe must the sayinge be\nexpounded more ciuilely. And if a man wil be hard to\nvs wyth letters and sillables, what is more cruell\nthen to bend the necke of a chyld, & to beat the sides\nof an infant? woldest thou not beleue that a bull were\ntaught to y^e plowgh, or an asse to bear paniars, and\nnot a m\u00e3 to vertue? And what rewarde doth he promise\nvs? That he grope not after other m[en]nes dores. He is\nafeard lest his son shulde be poore, as the greateste\nof all mischiefe. What is more coldly spoken then thys\nsentence? Let gentle admonicion be oure rodde, and\nsometyme chydyng also, but sauced wyth mekenes, not\nbitternes. Let vs vse thys whyp continuallye in our\nchyldren, y^t beyng wel brought vp, they maye haue at\nhome a meanes to lyue well, and not be c\u00f5pelled to beg\ncounsell at their neighbours how to do their busines.\nLicon the philosopher hath shewed .ii. sharpe spurres\nto quicken vp chyldrens wyttes, shame, and prayse:\nshame is the feare of a iust reproch, prayse is the\nnorysher of all verteous actes: wyth these prickes\nlette vs quicken our chyldrens wyttes. Also if you\nwyl, I\u00a0wyl shewe you a club to beate their sides\nwythall. Continuall labour vanquysheth all thynges\nsayth the best of al poetes. Let vs wake, let vs\nprycke th[em] forwardes, & styl call vpon them, by\nrequiringe, repetynge, and often teachyng: Wyth this\nclub let vs beate the sydes of our infantes. Fyrst let\nthem lerne to loue, and maruell at vertue and lernyng,\nto abhor sinne and ignorance. Let them hear some\npraysed for theyr well doinges, and some rebuked for\ntheir euyl. Let examples be brought in of those men to\nwhom lernyng hath gott[en] hygh glorye, ryches, dignitie,\nand authoritie. And againe of them to whom their euyll\ncondicions & wyt wythout all lernyng hath brought\ninfamie, contempt, pouertye and myschiefe. These\nverely be the clubbes meete for christians, that make\ndisciples of Iesu. [Sidenote: Emulacion is an enuye\nwythout malice, for desire to be as good as an other,\n& to be as much praysed.] And if we c\u00e3 not profite by\nmonicions, nor prayers, neyther by emulacion, nor\nshame, nor prayse, nor by other meanes, euen the\nchastenyng w^t the rod, if it so require, ought to be\ngentle & honeste. For euen thys that the bodies of\ng[en]tle children shulde be made bare, is a kind of\ndespice. Howbeit Fabius vtterly c\u00f5demneth al y^e\ncustume to beate gentle chyldr[en]. Some m\u00e3 wil saye,\nwhat shall be done to them if they can not be driuen\nto study but by stripes? I\u00a0answer ro[un]dly, what wold ye\ndo to asses or to oxen if thei went to schole? Woldest\nthou not driue them in to the contrey, & put the one\nto the backhouse, the other to the plowe. For there be\nmen as well borne to the plowe and to the backehouse,\nas oxen and asses be. But they wyll saye: then\ndecreseth my flocke. What then? Yea and myne\naduauntage to. Thys is an harde matter: thys maketh\nthem to weepe. They set more money then by the profite\nof the chyldren. But suche are all the c\u00f5mon sorte of\nfolyshe teachers. I\u00a0graunte. As the philosophers\ndescribe a wyse m\u00e3, y^e rethoricians an oratour, such\none as scarse maye be fo[un]d in anye place: So muche\nmore easye it is to prescribe what manner of man a\nscholmaster shuld be, th[en] to find many y^t wil be as\nyou wold haue th[em]. [Sidenote: Ciuile officers and\nprelates shuld se that ther wer good schole masters.]\n\u00b6\u00a0But this oughte to be a publyque care and charge, and\nbelongeth to the ciuyle officer, and chyef prelats of\nthe churches that as ther be men appointed to serue in\nwar, to singe in churches, so muche more there shulde\nbe ordeined that shuld teach citizens chyldren well\nand gently. [Sidenote: Vespasian.] Vespasianus oute of\nhys owne cofers gaue yerely sixe h[un]dred po[un]de to\nLatine and Greke rethoricians. [Sidenote: Plinie.]\nPlinie the nephew of his owne liberalitie bestowed a\ngreat s[um]me of money to the same purpose. And if the\ncom[en]ty in thys poynt be slacke, certenly euerye man\nought to take hede at home for his owne house. \u00b6\u00a0Thou\nwylt saye: what shall poore men do which can scarse\nfynd their chyldren, muche lesse hyre a master to\nteache them? Here I haue nothynge to saye, but thys\nout of the comedie: We muste do as we maye do, when we\ncan not as we wolde. We do shewe the beste waye of\nteachynge, we be not able to geue fortune: Saue that\nhere also the liberalitie of ryche men ought to helpe\ngood wyttes, whych can not shewe forthe the strength\nof naturall inclinacion because of pouertye.\n[Sidenote: Pouertie hurteth good wittes.] I\u00a0wyll that\nthe gentlenes of the master shulde be so tempered,\nthat familiaritie, the companion of contempte, put not\naway honeste reuerence, suche one as men say Sarpedo\nwas, tutour to Cato of Vtica, which thorowe hys gentle\nmaners gat greate loue, and by hys vertue as lyke\nauthoritie, causynge the chylde to haue a greate\nreuerence, and to set much by him wythout anye feare\nof roddes. But these y^t can do nothynge elles but\nbeate, what wolde they do if they had taken vpon them\nto teache Emperoures or kynges chyldren, whome it were\nnot lefull to beate? They wyll saye that greate mens\nsonnes muste be excepted from thys fashion. What is\nthat? Be not the chyldren of citizens, men as well as\nkynges chyldren be? Shulde not euerye manne as wel\nloue hys chylde as if he wer a kynges sonne? If his\nestate be s[um]what base, so much the more neede hath he\nto be taught, and holpen by lernynge, that he maye\ncome vp, from his pore case. But if he be of hye\ndegre, philosophy & lernyng is necessary to gouerne\nhys matters well. Further not a fewe be called frome\nlowe degre to hye estate, yea sometyme to be great\nbyshops. All men come not to thys, yet oughte al men\nto be brought vp to come to it. I\u00a0wil braule no more\nwith these greate beaters, after I haue tolde you this\none thing: How that those lawes & officers be\ncondemned of wyse men, whych can no more but feare men\nwyth punyshement, & do not also entyse men by\nrewardes: and the whych punyshe fautes, and prouide\nnot also y^t nothyng be done worthy punishm[en]t. The\nsame must be thought of the c\u00f5mon sort of teachers,\nwhych only beate for fautes, and do not also teache\ny^e mynd that it do not amysse. They straitlie require\ntheir lesson of them: if the chylde fayle, he is\nbeaten: and wh[en] this is done daily because the child\nshuld be more accustumed to it, thei thinke they haue\nplaied the part of a gaye scholemaster. But the chyld\nshulde fyrste haue ben encoraged to loue lernyng, and\nto be afeared to displease hys teacher. But of these\nthynges peraduenture some man wyl thynke I haue spoke\nto much & so myght I worthely be thought, except that\nalmoste all men dyd in this poynte so greatly offende,\nthat hereof a m\u00e3 c\u00e3 neuer speke inough. Furthermore it\nwyll helpe verye muche, if he that hathe taken vpon\nhym to teache a chylde, so sette hys mynd vpon hym,\nthat he bear a fatherly loue vnto hym. By thys it\nshall come to passe, y^t both the child wil lerne more\ngladly, & he shal fele lesse tediousnes of his\nlaboure. [Sidenote: A\u00a0sentence to be marked.] For in\neuery busines loue taketh away y^e greatest part of\nhardnes. And because after the olde prouerbe: Lyke\nreioyseth in lyke, y^e master muste in maner play the\nchilde againe, that he may be loued of the chylde. Yet\nthis lyketh me not, y^t men set theyr children to be\ntaught their fyrst beginnings of letters vnto those\nthat be of extreme and dotyng olde age, for they be\nchyldren in verye deede, they fayne not, they\nco[un]terfait not, stuttinge, but stutte in deede.\n\n\u00b6 I\u00a0wolde wyshe to haue one of a lustye yonge age,\nwhome the chylde myght delyght in, and which wold not\nbe lothe to playe euerye parte. [Sidenote: A\u00a0lykenynge\nof scholemasters and nurses together.] Thys man shulde\ndo in fashionyng hys wytte, that parentes and nurses\nbe wont to do in formynge the bodye. Howe do they\nfyrst teache the infante to speake lyke a man? They\napplye their wordes by lyspyng accordyng to the\nchyldes tatlynge. How do they teach them to eat? They\nchaw fyrst their milke soppes, and when they haue\ndone, by lytle & litle put it in to the chyldes\nmouthe. Howe do they teache th[em] to go? They bowe downe\ntheir owne bodies, and drawe in theyre owne strides\nafter the measure of the infantes. Neyther do they\nfede them wyth euerye meate, nor putte more in then\nthey bee able to take: and as they increase in age,\nthey leade them to bigger thinges. First they seeke\nfor noryshemente that is meete for them, not differyng\nmuch fr\u00f5 mylke, whych yet if it be thrust into the\nmouthe to muche, either it choketh the chylde, or\nbeynge caste oute defileth hys garmente. When it is\nsoftelye and pretelye put in, it doth good. Whych\nselfe thynge we se c\u00f5meth to passe in vesselles that\nhaue narowe mouthes: if you pour in muche, it bubbleth\nout agayne, but if you powre in a litle, and as it\nwere by droppes, in deede it is a whyle, and fayre and\nsoftely erste, but yet then fylled. [Sidenote: The\nfedyng of the bodye and mynd c\u00f5pared together.] So\nthen as by small morsels, and geuen now and then,\nthe lytle tender bodies are noryshed: in lyke manner\nchyldrens wyttes by instruccions meete for them taught\neasely, and as it were by playe by lytle & litle\naccustume th[em] selues to greater thyngs: & the\nwearynesse in the meane season, is not felte, because\nthat small encreasynges so deceyue the felynge of\nlabour, that neuerthelesse they helpe much to great\nprofite. As it is told of a certen wrestler, whych,\naccustumed to beare a calfe by certein furlonges, bare\nhym wh[en] he was waxen a bull, wythoute anye payne: for\nthe encrease was not felt, whych euerye daye was put\nto the burden. But there be some that looke that\nchyldren shulde strayghtwaye become olde men, hauyng\nno regarde of their age, but measure the tender\nwittes, by theyr owne strengthe. \u00b6\u00a0Straightway they call\nvpon them bytterly, straightway they straitly require\nperfect diligence, by and by they frowne wyth the\nforhead if the childe do not as wel as he wold haue\nhym, and they bee so moued as thoughe they had to do\nwyth an elder body, forgettyng you maye be sure y^t\nthey th[em] selues wer once children. How much more\ncurteouse is it that Pliny warneth a certen master\nthat was to sore. Remember saythe he, that bothe he is\na yonge man, and that thou hast ben one thi selfe.\nBut many be so cruel against the tender chyldren, as\nthough thei rem[em]bred not neyther them selues, neyther\ntheir scolers to be menne. [Sidenote: What things\nlytle yonge chyldr[en] shold be fyrste taughte.] Thou\nwoldest that I shulde shewe the those thynges that be\nmeete for the inclinaci\u00f5 of that age, and whiche shuld\nby and by be taughte the lytle yongons. Fyrst the vse\nof tonges whych commeth to them without any greate\nstudye, ther as olde folkes can scarse be hable to\nlearne them wyth great labour. [Sidenote: Chyldren\ndesyre naturally to folow & do as other do.] And here\nto as we sayde, moueth the chyldr[en] a certen desyre to\nfolowe and do as they se other do: of the which thing\nwe see a certen lyke fashion in pies and popiniayes.\nWhat is more delectable then the fabels of poetes,\nwhich wyth their swete entisynge plesures to delight\nchildrens eares that thei profite vs very much wh[en] we\nbe olde also, not only to y^e knowledge of the tong,\nbut also to iudgement and copye of elegant speche?\nWhat wyll a chyld hear more gladlye then Esops fabels,\nwhyche in sporte and playe teache earnest preceptes of\nphilosophy? and the same fruite is also in the fabels\nof other poetes. The chylde heareth that Vlisses\nfelowes were turned into swyne, and other fashions of\nbeastes. The tale is laughed at, and yet for al that\nhe lerneth that thing that is the chiefest poynte in\nal morall philosophye: Those whyche be not gouerned by\nryght reason, but are caried after the wyll of\naffeccions, not to be men, but beastes. \u00b6\u00a0What coulde\na stoycke saye more sagely? and yet dothe a merye tale\nteache the same. In a thynge that is manifest I wyll\nnot make the tarye with many ex\u00e3ples. [Sidenote:\nBucolicall, where y^e herdmen do speke of nete and\nshepe.] Also what is more mery conceited th[en] the\nverses called Bucolicall? what is sweter then a\ncomedie, whych standing by morall maners, deliteth\nbothe the vnlearned and chyldren? And heare how great\na parte of philosophye is lerned by playe? Adde vnto\nthys the names of all thynges, in the whych it is\nmeruell to see howe now a dayes, yea eu[en] they be blind\nwhich are taken for wel lerned m[en]. Finally, shorte and\nmery conceited sentences, as commonly be prouerbes,\nand quicke shorte sayinges of noble men, in the whiche\nonlye in tyme paste philosophie was wonte to be taught\nto the people. Ther appeareth also in the very\nchyldren a certen peculier redines to some sciences,\nas vnto musicke, arithmetique, or cosmographie. For I\nhaue proued that they whych were very dull to lerne\nthe preceptes of grammer and rethorique, were found\nverye apte to lerne the subtile artes. Nature therfore\nmust be holpen to that parte wherunto of it selfe it\nis inclined. And down the hyll is very litle labour,\nas contrary is great. Thou shalt nether do nor saye\nanye thynge agaynst thy naturall inclinacion. I\u00a0knewe\na child that could not yet speake whych had no greater\npleasure, than to open a booke, and make as thoughe he\nread. And when he dyd that sometyme many houres, yet\nwas he not weery. And he neuer wept so bitterli, but\nif you had offered hym a booke, he wolde be pleased.\nThat thynge made hys friendes hope that in time to\ncome he wolde be a well lerned manne. His name also\nbrought some good lucke: for he was called Hierome.\n[Sidenote: That is a teacher of holye lernynge.] And\nwhat he is now I can not tel, for I sawe hym not\nbeynge grow[en] vp. To the knowledge of the tonge it wyll\nhelpe verye muche if he be broughte vp amonge them\nthat be talkatiue. Fabels and tales wyll the chylde\nlerne so muche the more gladly, and remember the\nbetter, if he maye see before his eyes the argumentes\nproperly paynted, and what soeuer is tolde in the\noracion be shewed him in a table. The same shall helpe\nas much to lerne without boke the names of trees,\nherbs, and beastes, and also their properties,\ninespecially of these whych be not common to be seene\nin euerye place, as is Rhinoceros, whyche is a beaste\nthat hathe a horne in hys nose, naturall enemye to the\nElephant: Tragelaphus, a\u00a0goate hart, Duocrotalus,\na\u00a0byrd lyke to a sw\u00e3, whyche puttyng hys head into the\nwater brayeth lyke an asse, an asse of Inde and an\nElephant. The table maye haue an Elephant whom a\nDragon claspeth harde aboute, wrapping in his former\nfeete with his tayle. The litle chyld laugheth at the\nsyght of thys straunge paintynge, what shall the\nmaster do then? He shall shewe him that ther is a\ngreate beaste called in Greeke an Elephante, and in\nLatine lykewyse, saue that sometyme it is declined\nafter the latine fashion. He shall shewe, that that\nwhyche the grekes cal proboscida, or his snout, the\nlatines call his hande, because wyth that he reacheth\nhys meate. He shall tell hym that that beaste doth not\ntake breath at the mouthe as we do, but at the snoute:\n& that he hath teth standyng out on bothe sides, and\nthey be iuory, which rich m[en] set much price by, and\ntherwith shal shew hym an iuory combe. Afterwardes he\nshall declare that in Inde ther be dragons as greate\nas they. And that dragon is bothe a greke worde and a\nlatine also, saue that the grekes says dracontes in\nthe genitiue case. He shall shewe that naturallie\nbetwyxte the dragons and the Elephantes is great\nfyghte. And if the chylde be somewhat gredy of\nlearnynge, he maye rehearse manye other thynges of the\nnature of Elephantes and dragons. Manye reioyse to see\nhuntinges paynted. Here howe manye kyndes of trees,\nhearbes, byrdes, foure footed beastes maye he lerne\nand playe? I\u00a0wyll not holde you longe wyth examples,\nseynge it is easye by one to coniecture all. \u00b6\u00a0The\nmaster shall be diligent in chosynge them oute, and\nwhat he shall iudge moste pleasaunt to chyldren, most\nmete for them, what they loue best, and is most\nfloryshyng, that inespecially let hym set before them.\nThe fyrste age lyke vnto the spring tyme, standeth in\npleasaunt sweete flowres, and goodly grene herbes,\nvntyl the heruest time of ripe mans age fyll the barne\nfull of corne. \u00b6\u00a0Then as it were agaynst reason in ver\nor springe tyme to seeke for a rype grape, and a rose\nin autumne, [Sidenote: Autumne is the tyme betwyxt\nsomer and wynter.] so muste the master marke what is\nmete for euerye age. Mery and plesaunte thynges be\nconueniente for chyldehod, howbeit all sourenesse and\nsadnes muste be cleane awaye from all studies.\n[Sidenote: The meaning of y^e poetes deuise touching\nthe muses & Charites.] And I am deceyued except the\nolde men ment that also, whyche ascribed to the muses\nbeynge virgins, excellent bewtye, harpe, songes,\ndaunses, and playes in the pleasaunt fieldes, and\nioyned to them as felowes the Ladies of loue: and that\nincrease of studies dyd stande specially in mutual\nloue of myndes, and therefore the olde men called it\nthe lernyng that perteined to man. And ther is no\ncause why profite maye not folowe pleasure, and\nhonestie ioyned to delectacion. [Sidenote: Wherfore\nlernyng is called humanitie] For what letteth that\nthey shulde not lerne eyther a proper fable, arte of\npoets, or a sentence, or a notable prety hystorie, or\na learned tale, as well as they lerne and can wythout\nboke a piuyshe songe, and oft[en]times a baudy one to,\n& folishe old wiues tatlynges, & very trifles of triflyng\nwom[en]? What a s[um]me of dreames, vaine ryddels,\nand vnprofitable trifles of spirites, hobgoblines,\nfayries, witches, nightmares wood men and gyauntes,\nhow manye naughty lies, how many euyll sayings\nremember wee, yea euen when we be men, whych beyng lytle\nchyldr[en] we lerned of our dadies, gra[un]dmothers,\nnurses, & maydens whyle they were spynnynge, and heard\nth[em] when they kissed & plaied wyth vs? And what a\nprofite shuld it haue bene to lernynge, if in stede of\nthese moste vaine garringes, not only folyshe, but\nalso hurtfull, wee had lerned those thynges that we\nrehearsed a litle before. Thou wylt saye, what lerned\nman wyll lowly hys wyt to these so small thynges? Yet\nAristotle hym selfe beynge so greate a philosopher was\nnot greued to take vpon hym the office of a teacher,\nto instruct Alexander. \u00b6\u00a0Chiron fashioned the infancy of\nAchilles, and Phenix succeded hym. Hely the priest\nbrought vp y^e childe Samuell. And ther be now a daies\nwhych eyther for a lytle money, or for theyr plesure\ntake almost more payne in teachyng a pye or a\npopiniay. There be some that for deuocions sake take\nvpon them iourneys that both be farre of and\nieoperdeous, and other laboures besyde almost\nintollerable. Why dothe not holynes cause vs to do\nthys office seynge nothyng can please god better?\nHowbeit in teachinge those thynges that we haue\nrehearsed, the master must neyther be to much callyng\nvpon, neither to sharpe: but vse a continuaunce rather\nthen be wythout measure. Continuaunce hurteth not so\nit be mesurable, & spiced also wyth varietie and\nplesa[un]tnes. Finally if these thynges be so taught,\nthat imaginaci\u00f5 of labour be awaye, and that the\nchylde do thynk al thinges be done in playe. Here the\ncourse of our talkyng putteth vs in rem[em]braunce\nbriefely to shewe by what meanes it maye be brought to\npasse that lernyng shuld waxe swete vnto the chylde,\n[Sidenote: How learnyng may be made swete vnto y^e\nchyld.] which before we somwhat touched. To be able to\nspeake redely, as I told you is easely gotten by vse.\nAfter thys c\u00f5meth the care to reade and write whych\nof it selfe is somwhat tedious, but the griefe is\ntaken awaye a great parte by the c[un]nyng handling of\nthe master, if it be sauced w^t some pleasaunt\nallurementes. For you shall fynde some whych tarye\nlong and take great paine in knowyng & ioynynge their\nletters & in those fyrst rudim[en]tes of grammer, wh[en]\nthey wyl quyckely lerne greater thyngs. The yrks\u00f5nes\nof these thinges must be holp[en] by some pretie craft,\nof the which y^e old fathers haue shewed cert[en]\nfashions. Some haue made the letters in sweete crustes\nand cakes that chyldren loue well, that so in manner\nthey myghte eate vp their letters. \u00b6\u00a0When they tell\nthe letters name, they geue the letter it selfe for a\nrewarde. Other haue made the fashion of iuorie, that\nthe chylde shulde playe wyth them, or if there were\nany other thyng wherin that age is specially delited.\n[Sidenote: The practise of a certen englishe man to\nteache hys chyld hys letters by shootyng.] The\nenglyshe m[en] delyte principally in shotynge, and teache\nit their chyldren fyrst of all: wherefore a certen\nfather that had a good quicke wyt perceiuinge his\nsonne to haue a greate pleasure in shotyng, bought hym\na prety bowe & very fayr arrowes, & in al partes both\nof hys bowe & arrowes were letters painted. Afterwards\ninsted of markes, he set vp the fashi\u00f5 of leters,\nfyrste of Greke, and after of lat[en]: when he hyt,\n& tolde the name of the letter, besyde a greate\nreioysinge, he had for a reward a cherye, or some\nother thynge that chyldr[en] delyte in. Of that playe\ncommeth more fruite, if two or thre matches playe\ntogether. For then the hope of victorie and feare of\nrebuke maketh them to take more heede, and to be more\nchereful. By thys deuise it was broughte aboute that\nthe chylde wythin a fewe days playing, had perfitely\nlerned to know & sound all hys letters whych ye c\u00f5m\u00f5\nsort of teachers be scarse able to brynge to passe in\nthre whole yeres whyth their beatynges threatyngs, and\nbrawlynges. Yet do not I alowe the diligence of some\nto painful, whych drawe out these thyngs by playinge\nat chesses or dyce. For when the playes them selues\npasse the capacitie of chyldren, how shal they lerne\nthe letters by them? \u00b6\u00a0This is not to helpe the\nchyldrens wyttes, but to put one labour to an other.\nAs there be certen engins so full of worke and so\ncurious, that they hynder the doynge of the busines.\nOf thys sorte commonly be all those thynges whych some\nhaue deuised of the arte of memorye for to gette\nmoney, or for a vayne boastynge, rather then for\nprofite: for they do rather hurte the memorye.\n[Sidenote: The beste craft for memmorie.] The best\ncrafte for memorie, is thorowlye to vnderstande,\nand then to brynge into an order, last of al oft[en] to\nrepete that thou woldest remember. And in litleons\nthere is a natural great desyre to haue the mastry\ninespecially of suche as be of lustye courage, and\nlyuely towardnes. \u00b6\u00a0The teacher shall abuse these\ninclinacions to the profite of hys study. If he shall\nprofite nothing by prayers, and fayre meanes, neyther\nby gyftes mete for chyldren, nor prayses, he shal make\na contencion with hys equales. Hys felowe shall be\npraysed in the pres[en]ce of the duller. Desyre to be as\ngood shall quicken forwardes, whom only adhortacion\ncoulde not do. Yet it is not meete so to geue the\nmastrie to the victor, as thoughe he shulde haue it\nfor euer: but somtime he shall shewe hope to hym that\nis ouercome, that by takyng hede he may recouer y^e\nshame: whych thynge capteyns be wonte to dooe in\nbatayle. And sometyme we shall suffer that the chyld\nshuld thynke he hadde gotten the better, when he is\nworse in deede. Finally by enterchaungyng, prayse and\ndisprayse, he shall noryshe in them, as Hesiodus\nsayth, a\u00a0stryfe who shall do best. Perchaunce one of a\nsadde wyt wyl be loth so to play the child among\nchyldren. And yet the same is not greued, neyther yet\nashamed to spende a greate parte of the day in playing\nwyth little puppies and marmesettes, or to babble wyth\na pie or popiniay, or to play the foole wyth a foole.\nBy these tryfles, a\u00a0verye sadde matter is broughte to\npasse, and it is meruell that good men haue litle\npleasure herein, seeing y^t natural loue of our\nchildren, and hope of great profit is wunt to make\nthose thynges also pleasa[un]te, whyche of them selues be\nsharpe, sowre and bytter. I\u00a0confesse that the\npreceptes of grammer be at the beginnynge somewhat\nsowre, and more necessary then pleasant. But the\nhandsomnes of the teacher shal take from them also a\ngreate parte of the payne. The beste thynge and\nplaynest muste be taughte fyrste. \u00b6\u00a0But nowe wyth what\ncompasses, and hardenesse be chyldren troubeled whyle\nthey learne wythout the booke the names of the letters\nbefore they knowe what manner letters they bee?\n\n\u00b6 Whyle they be compelled in the declinynge of nownes\nand verbes to can by roote in howe manye cases, moodes\nand tenses one worde is put: as muse in the genetiue\nand datiue singuler, the nominatiue and vocatiue\nplurel? Legeris of legor, and of legerim, and legero?\nWhat a beatyng is th[en] in the schole, wh[en] chyldren be\naxed these thynges? \u00b6\u00a0Some light teachers to boast their\nlerynge are wonte of purpose to make these thynges\nsomewhat harder. Whyche faute maketh the beginnynges\nalmost of all sciences in doute, and paynfull,\nspecially in logicke. And if you shewe them a better\nwaye, they answere they were brought vp after thys\nfashion, and wyll not suffer that anye chyldren shulde\nbe in better case, then they them selues were when\nthey were chyldren. All difficultye eyther therefore\nmuste be auoided, whyche is not necessarye, or that is\nvsed oute of tyme. It is made softe and easy, that is\ndone wh[en] it shuld be. But when tyme is, that of\nnecessitie an harde doute muste be learned, than a\ncunnynge teacher of a childe shall studye as muche as\nhe may to folowe the good and frendlye Phisicians,\n[Sidenote: A\u00a0good schol master in teachyng, muste\nfolow a phisicion in medicines.] whych whan they shalt\ngyue a bytter medicyne do anoyut, as Lucrecius faith,\nthe brimmes of their cuppes with honye, that the\nchylde entised by pleasure of the swetenes shuld not\nfeare the wholesome bytternes, or else put suger into\ny^e medicine it selfe, or some other swete sauoryng\nthynge. Yea they wyl not be knowen that it is a\nmedicine, for the only imaginacion sometyme maketh vs\nquake for feare. Finally thys tediousenes is sone\nouercome, if things be taught them not to much at\nonce, but by lytle and litle, and at sundrie times.\nHowebeit we ought not to distrust to much chyldrens\nstrength, if perhaps they muste take some paines.\nA\u00a0chyld is not myghty in strength of bodye, but he is\nstronge to continue, and in abilitie strong inough. He\nis not myghty as a bull, but he is strong as an emet.\n[Sidenote: Note the sentence.] In some thinges a flye\npasseth an elephant. Euerye thyng is mighty in that,\nto the whyche nature hathe made hym. Do we not se\ntender chyldren r[un]ne merueylouse swyftlye all the daye\nlong, and feele no werinesse. What is the cause?\nBecause playe is fitte for that age, and they imagine\nit a playe and no labour. And in euerye thynge the\ngretest part of payne is imaginacion, whych somtyme\nmaketh vs feele harme, when there is no harme at all.\nTherefore seynge that the prouidence of nature hath\ntaken awaye imaginacion of laboure from chyldren, And\nhowe muche they lacke in strengthe, so muche they be\nholpen in thys part, that is, that they feele not\nlabour, It shal be the masters parte, as we sayde\nbefore, to put away the same by as many wayes as he\ncan, and of purpose to make a playe of it. \u00b6\u00a0There be\nalso certen kindes of sportes meete for chyldren,\nwherwyth theyr earnest studye must somwhat be eased\nafter they be come to that, they muste lerne those\nhigher thynges whyche can not be perceiued wythoute\ndiligence and laboure: as are the handling of Themes,\nto turne latine into Greeke, or greeke into latine, or\nto learne cosmographie wythout booke. But moste of all\nshall profite, if the chylde accustume to loue and\nreuerence hys master, to loue and make muche of\nlearnyng, to feare rebuke, and delyght in prayse.\n[Sidenote: The last obieccion touching the profit of\ny^e chyld in his young yeres.] There remayneth one\ndoute, wonte to be obiected by those whych saye: The\nprofite that the chylde getteth in those thre or foure\nyeres to be so lytle, that it is not worthe the\nlaboure, eyther to take so muche payne in teachynge,\nor bestowe so much coste. And these in dede seme vnto\nme, not so muche to care for to profite the chyldren,\nas for the sparyng of theyr money, or the teachers\nlabour. But I wyl saye he is no father, whyche when\nthe matter is of teaching his child, taketh so greate\ncare for expenses. Also it is a folyshe pitie, to\nthintent the master shuld saue his labour, to make his\nsonne lose certen yeres. I\u00a0graunt it to be true indede\ny^t Fabius sayth, y^t more good is done in .i. yere\nafter, then in these .iii. or .iiii. why shuld we set\nlight by this litle y^t is won in a thyng far more\nprecious. Let vs graunt that it is but a very lytle,\nyet were it better the chylde to do it, then eyther\nnothyng at al, or lerne somewhat that after muste be\nvnlerned. Wyth what businesse shall that age be better\noccupied as sone as he beginneth to speake, whiche in\nno wyse can be vnoccupied? Also how lytle soeuer it be\nthat the former age doth bringe, yet shal the chylde\nlerne greater thynges, euen in the same yeres, when\nsmaller shuld haue ben lerned, if he had not lerned\nthem before. Thys sayth Fabius, euery yere furthered\nand increased profiteth to a great summe and as much\ntyme as is taken before in the infancie, is gotten to\nthe elder age. It nedeth not to rehearse that in those\nfirst yeres certen thinges be easely lerned, which be\nmore hard to be lerned wh[en] we be elder. For it is very\neasely lerned, that is lerned in time conueniente. Let\nvs graunt that they be small and litle thynges, so we\nconfesse them to be necessarye. Yet to me in deede it\nsemeth not so litle a furtheraunce to lerning to haue\ngotten though not a perfit knowledge, yet at the least\nwaye a taste of bothe the tongues, besydes so many\nvocables and names of thinges, and finally to haue\nbegun to be able to reade and write pr\u00f5ptly. It\ngreueth vs not in thinges much more vile, to gette all\nthe vauntage we can, be it neuer so lytle. A\u00a0diligente\nmarchaunt setteth not light bi winning of a farthing,\nthinkyng thus in hys mynde: it is in dede of it selfe\nbut a litle, but it groweth to a summe, and a litle\noften put to a lytle, wyll quyckelye make a great\nheape. The Smithes ryse before daye, to wyn as it were\nparte of the day. Husband men vpon the holy daye do\nsome thynges at home, to make an ende of more worke\nthe other dayes. And do we regarde as nothyng the\nlosse of .iiii. yeres in oure chyldren, when there is\nnothyng more costly then tyme, nor no possession\nbetter th[en] lerning? It is neuer lerned tymely inoughe\nthat neuer is ended. For we muste euer learne as longe\nas we lyue. \u00b6\u00a0And in other thyngs the lucre that is\nloste by slackenes, maye be recouered by diligence.\nTime wh[en] it is once flowen awaye (and it flyeth\nawaye very quickely) may be called againe by no\ninchauntmentes. For the poets do trifle whyche tell of\na fountayne, wherby olde men do as it were waxe yong\nagayne: and the phisicions deceiue you, whych promise\na gay floryshyng youth to old men thorowe a certeyn\nfolishe fyft essence I wote not what. Here therfore we\nought to be verye sparyng, because the losse of tyme\nmay by no meanes be recouered. Beside this the fyrst\npart of our lyfe is co[un]ted to be best, and therfore\nshuld be bestowed more warelye. Hesiodus aloweth not\nsparynge, neyther at the hyest, nor at the lowest,\nbecause when the tunne is full it semeth to hasty, and\nto late when it is spente: and therefore byddeth vs\nspare in the myddes. But of tyme we muste nowher cast\naway the sparing, and if we shuld spare when the tunne\nis ful for thys cause that wyne is best in the\nmyddest, then shulde we most of all saue our yonge\nyeres, because it is the best parte of the life, if\nyou exercise it, but yet y^t goeth swyftest awaye. The\nhusbande manne if he be anye thynge diligente, wyll\nnot suffer anye parte of hys lande to lye vacante,\nand that that is not meete to brynge forthe corne, he\nsetteth it eyther wyth yonge graffes, or leaueth it to\npasture, or storeth it wyth potte hearbes. And shall\nwe suffer the beste parte of our lyfe to passe awaye\nwyth oute all fruite of lerning? Newe falowed ground\nmust be preuented wyth some fruitfull thynge, leste\nbeynge vntylled, it brynge forthe of it selfe naughty\ncockle. For needes muste it brynge forthe somewhat.\nLykewyse the tender mynde of the infante, except it\nbee strayghte wayes occupyed wyth fruitefull\nteachynges, it wyl be ouercoued wyth vyce. An earthen\npotte wyll keepe longe the sauoure of the liquore that\nit is fyrste seasoned wyth, and it wyll be long or it\ngo out. But as for an earthen vessell beynge newe and\nemptye, you maye keepe it for what liquore ye wyll.\n\n\u00b6 The mynde eyther bryngeth forth good fruite, if you\ncaste into it good seede, or if ye regard it not, it\nis fylled wyth naughtines, whych afterwardes must be\npulled vp. And not a litle hath he wonne whyche hathe\nescaped the losse, neyther hathe he brought small\nhelpe to vertue, whiche hath excluded vyce. But what\nnede many wordes? Wylt thou see howe muche it\nauayleth, whether one be brought vp in learnynge or\nnot? Beholde how excellently lerned in the olde tyme\nmen were in their youth, and how in oure daies they\nthat be aged be hable to do nothyng in studie?\n[Sidenote: Ouide.] Ouide beyng a verye yonge man wrot\nhys verses of loue. What olde man is hable to do lyke?\n[Sidenote: Lucane.] What maner of man Lucane was in\nhys youth hys workes declare. Howe came thys? Because\nthat beynge but .vi. moneths old he was brought to\nRome, & strayght waie deliuered to be taught of two\nthe best gramarians, Palem\u00f5, and Cornutus. [Sidenote:\nBassus.] Hys companions in studye were Salcius Bassus,\nand Aulus Persius: [Sidenote: Persius.] that one\nexcellente in historye, that other in a Satyre.\n\nDoubtles hereof cam that most perfite knoweledge that\nhe had in all the seuen sciences, & his so marueylous\neloquence, that in verse he was both an excellente\noratoure, & also a Poet. In thys our time ther w\u00e3teth\nnot exemples of good bringing vp (although thei be veri\nfew) & y^t as wel in wom[en] as m[en]. Politi\u00e3 praised\ny^e wit of y^e maid[en] Cass\u00e3dra. \u00b6\u00a0And what is more\nmarueylous th\u00e3 Vrsinus a childe of .xii. yeres olde?\nfor the rem[em]braunce of him, he also in a very elig\u00e3te\nepistle put in eternall memorye. How fewe men shal you\nnowe fynd, whiche at one time be able to endite two\nepistles to so manye notaries, that the s[en]tence in\neuerye one do agree, and that there shoulde happen no\ninconueniente speache. That chylde did it in fyue\nepistles & gaue the argumentes w^tout any study, & was\nnot prepared afore h\u00e3d to do it. Some men when they se\nthese things, thinking that thei passe al mens\nstrength, ascribe it to witchcraft. It is done in dede\nby witchcrafte, but it is an effectual encha[un]ting,\nto be set in time to a learned, good, and vigilant\nmaster. It is a stronge medicine to learne the best\nthings of learned men, and emonge the learned.\n\n[Sidenote: Alexander.] By such wytchcrafte Alexander\nthe greate, whan he was a yonge man, besides\neloquence, was perfit in al the parts of Philosophie,\nand except the loue of warres, & swetenes to raygne\nhad quite raught away his inclinaci\u00f5, he might haue\nbene counted the chiefe among the beste Philosophers.\nBy the same meanes Caius Cesar beinge but a yonge man,\nwas so eloquent & wel sene in the mathematical\nsciences. So well sene also were many Emperors: Marcus\nTullius, also Virgil, and Horace in their lusty youth\nwere so excellent in learninge and Eloquence, all\nbycause they were strayght waye in their tender age\nlearned of their parentes & nourses the elegancy of\nthe tonges, and of the beste maisters the liberal\nsciences: as Poetry, Rhetorique, Histories, the\nknowledge of antiquities, Arithmetique, Geographye,\nPhilosophye, moral and political. And what do we I\npraye you? wee kepe our children at home till they be\npast fourtene or fiftene yere old, and whan they be\ncorrupted wyth idlenes, ryot, & delicatenes, with\nmuche worke at the laste we sende them to the c\u00f5men\nscholes. There to further y^e matter wel, they taste a\nlittle grammer: after, whan they can declyne words, &\nioyne the adiectiue and the subst\u00e3tiue togither, they\nhaue learned al the grammer, and th\u00e3 be set to that\ntroubled Logike, wher they must forget againe if they\nhaue learned to speake anie thynge well. But more\nvnhappye was the tyme whan I was a child whiche al to\nvexed the youth with modes of signifiinge, and other\nfolyshe questions, & teching nothinge els then to\nspeake folishelye. Verely those masters bicause they\nwold not be thought to teach folish thinges, darckened\ngrammer wyth difficulties of Logike and Metaphisike:\neuen for this verelye, that afterwardes they shold\nreturne backwardelye to learne grammer, wh\u00e3 they were\nolde, which we see happeneth nowe to some diuines that\nbe wyser, that after so manye hye degrees and all\ntheir titles, wherby they maye be ignoraunte in\nnothing, they be faine to come againe to those bookes,\nwhich are wonte to be reade vnto children. I\u00a0blame th[em]\nnot, for it is better to lerne late then neuer, that\nthing which is necessary to be knowen.\n\nGood Lorde what a world was that, whan wyth greate\nboastynge Iohn Garlandes verses wer read to yonge men,\nand that with longe and painefull commentaries? wh\u00e3 a\ngreate parte of tyme was consumed in folyshe verses,\nin saying th[em] to other, repetynge them, and hearynge\ntheim agayne? whan Florista and Florius were learned\nwithout booke? for as for Alexander, I\u00a0thynke him\nworthye to be receiued amonge the meaner sorte.\nMoreouer howe muche tyme was loste in Sophistrye, and\nin the superfluous mases of Logyke? And bicause I will\nnot be to longe, howe troublesomelye were all sciences\ntaughte? howe paynefully? whiles euerye reader to\nauaunce him selfe, wolde euen straighte waye in the\nbegynninge stuffe in the hardest thynges of all, and\nsometyme verye folyshe thyngs to. For a thyng is not\ntherfore goodly bycause it is harde, as to stand a far\nof, and to caste a mustarde seede thorowe a nedles eye\n& misse not, it is hard in dede, but yet it is a verye\ntrifle: and to vndo a payre of tariers, it is much\nworke, but yet a vayne and idle subilltye.\n\nAdde here vnto, that oftentymes these thynges be\ntaught of vnlearned men, and that is worse, of lewd\nlearned men, somtyme also of sluggardes and\nvnthriftes, which more regarde takynge of money th\u00e3\nthe profite of their scholers. Wh\u00e3 the commune\nbryngynge vp is suche, yet do wee maruayle that fewe\nbe perfitly learned before they be old. [Sidenote:\nNota.] The beste parte of oure lyfe is loste wyth\nidlenes, with vices, wherewith whan we be infected,\nwe giue a litle parte of our tyme to studies, and a\ngreate parte to feastes and plaies. And to an yll\nmatter is taken as euil a craftes manne, either\nteachynge that is folyshe, or that whiche must be\nvnlearned againe. And after this we make our excuse\nthat the age is weake, the wyt not yet apte to learne,\nthe profite to be verye small, and manye other\nthinges, whan in dede the fault is to be ascribed to\neuill brynginge vp. I\u00a0wil not trouble you any l[en]ger,\nonelie wil I speake to your wisdome whyche is in other\nthynges verye sharpe and quycke of syght. [Sidenote:\nA\u00a0goodli brief rehearsall of the thinges before\nspok[en].] Consider howe deare a possession youre sonne\nis, howe diuerse a thynge it is and a matter of muche\nworke to come by learnynge, and how noble also the\nsame is, what a redines is in all childrens wyttes to\nlearne, what agilitie is in the mynd of m\u00e3 howe easily\nthose thynges be learned whyche be beste and agreable\nto nature, inespeciallye if they be taught of learned\nand gentle maisters by the waye of playe: further how\nfast those thynges abide with vs, wherew^t we season\nfyrste of all the emptye and rude myndes, whiche selfe\nthynges an elder age perceyueth boeth more hardelye,\nand soner forgetteth: Beside thys how dear and the\nlosse neuer recouered, tyme is, howe much it auayleth\nto begin in seas\u00f5, and to learne euery thyng whan it\nshold be, how much continuaunce is able to do, & howe\ngreately the heape that Hesiodus speaketh of, doeth\nincrease by puttinge to little and litle, how swiftly\nthe time flieth away, how youth wyll alwayes be\noccupied, & howe vnapte olde age is to be taught: If\nthou consyder these thynges thou wilt neuer suffer\nthat thi litle child shoulde passe away (I\u00a0wil not\nsay) seuen yere, but not so much as thre dayes, in the\nwhiche he maye\n  be eyther prepared or in-\n  structed to learnynge\n  though the profit\n  be neuer so\n  litle.\n\n\nFINIS.\n\n\n\n\n  \u00b6 Impryn-\n  ted at London by Iohn Day,\n  dwellinge ouer Aldersgate, beneth\n  saint Martyns. And are to be sold\n  at his shop by the litle conduit\n  in Chepesyde at the sygne\n  of the Resurrec-\n  tion.\n\n  Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum\n  solum. Per septennium.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n           *       *       *       *\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n_Paragraphs_\n\nSome paragraph breaks in this e-text are conjectural. The printed book\nhad the following kinds of breaks:\n\n  --conventional paragraph with indented first line\n  --unambiguous paragraph with non-indented first line\n  --ambiguous paragraph: previous line ends with blank space, but the\n    space is not large enough to contain the first syllable of the\n    following line\n  --sentence break corresponds to line break: this happens randomly in\n    any printed book, and only becomes ambiguous when the book also has\n    non-indented paragraphs\n\nIn this e-text, the second type of paragraph is marked with a pilcrow \u00b6.\nThe third type has a pilcrow \u00b6 but no paragraph break. The fourth type\nis not marked.\n\n\n_Errors and Inconsistencies_ (Noted by Transcriber)\n\nUnless otherwise noted, spelling and punctuation are unchanged.\n\nSpelling:\n\n  The pattern of initial \"v\", non-initial \"u\" is followed consistently.\n  The spelling \"they\" is more common than \"thei\".\n  The form \"then\" is normally used for both \"then\" and \"than\";\n    \"than\" is rare.\n  The most common spelling is \"wyll\", but \"wyl\", \"wil\" and \"will\"\n    also occur.\n\nWord Division:\n\nLine-end hyphens were completely arbitrary; words split at line break\nwere hyphenated about two-thirds of the time. The presence or absence\nof a hyphen has not been noted. Hyphenless words at line-end were joined\nor separated depending on behavior elsewhere in the text:\n\n  Always one word (re-joined at line break):\n    som(e)what, without, afterward(e)s\n  Usually one word: often()times, what()so()euer\n  One or two words: an()other\n  Usually two words: it/him/my.. self/selues; shal()be;\n    straight()way\n  Always two words: here to\n\nRoman Numerals:\n\nNumbers were printed with leading and following .period. When the number\ncame at the beginning or end of a line, the \"outer\" period was sometimes\nomitted. These have been silently supplied for consistency.\n\nNotes:\n\n  what soeuer is tolde in the oracion be shewed him in a table.\n    [_in context, \"table\" looks like an error for either \"tale\" or\n    \"fable\", but it means picture (Latin _tabula_)_]\n  the grekes says dracontes in the genitiue case\n    [_Latin _draco, draconis_;\n    Greek +drak\u00f4n, drakontos+_]\n\nErrors:\n\n  what plante wyll bee as the owener or  [or or]\n  They lerne to loke fierslie, the learne to loue the swearde\n    [_text unchanged: \"the\" error for \"they/thei\"?_]\n  What thynke ye then is to be looked for  [is to de]\n  a yonge man behauinge hym selfe  [behaninge]\n  Straight waye the colt of a lusty courage  [Sraight]\n  so be there also of sciences.\n    [_text has \"sci-/cences\" at line break_]\n  were not made by Hesiodus.  [_final . missing_]\n  thought it to be of Hesiodus doing.  [_final . missing_]\n  And h[en]ce we ought  [hece]\n  things y^t be naught.  [_final . missing_]\n  Nowe is thys theyr onlye care  [_one printing has \"thyer\"_]\n  dayntines hathe perswaded vs to comune this office\n    [_one printing has \"commit\"_]\n  more easelye by feare, that one brought vp\n    [_text unchanged: \"that\" error for \"then/than\"?_]\n  hym to whome he committed the chyefe rule of hys colledge, surnamed\n    of the thynge  [_text unchanged_]\n  theyr seruauntes, and their threatnynges,  [threatnynges,,]\n  After suche daynties, they exercysed suche lozdelynes.\n    [_text unchanged: \"z\" may be intended for some other letter_]\n  When the sicknes of the body was somewhat put away  [sickens]\n  these things be alowed of suche as haue  [suche is]\n  But if he be of hye degre  [_\"if\" invisible in one printing_]\n  I\u00a0wil braule no more  [wll]\n  fayries, witches, nightmares wood men and gyauntes\n    [_punctuation unchanged_]\n  that so in manner they myghte eate vp their letters\n    [_final \"t\" in \"that\" invisible_]\n  of laboure from chyldren, And howe muche  [_punctuation unchanged_]\n  they feele not labour, It shal be the masters parte\n    [_punctuation unchanged_]\n  a thyng far more precious. Let vs\n    [_text has \"preci-//Let\" at page break; \"ous\" supplied from\n    catchword_]\n  it wyl be ouercoued wyth vyce\n    [_text unchanged: error for \"overcouered\"?_]","title":"The Education of Children","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":25989}