that which has been handed down, he opens his heart to and straight transfers to his book-devils, angels, saints, popes, kings, and sages, chase each other through his pages-he is no respecter of authorities in books, having as much regard, or rather a preference for the marvellous, when the moral is equally good.

The following legend is retailed with some power of forcible representation.

"Pope Sylvester the Second, called before, Gilbert, a Frenchman borne, came by the popedom, as Platina, Nauclerus, Benno, the Cardinall, and others report, by the help of the divell. In his youth he became a monke: but forsaking the monastery, he followed the divell, to whom he had wholly given himselfe, and went to Hispalis, a citie in Spaine, for learning's sake: where his hap was to insinuate himself into the favour of a Saracen philosopher, skilfule in magicke. In this man's house he saw a book of necromancy, which he was desirous to steale away. But the booke being very warily and safely kept by the Saracen's daughter, with whom he had familiar acquaintance, at last he wan her favour, that he might secretly take it away, and reade it over. Which when he had gotten into his possession, with promise to deliver it againe, he determined to depart thence, fearing neverthelesse what danger he might fall into, by his theft. After he had escaped this danger, being overcome with ambition, and a divellish desire to rule, he obtained first by corruption, the archbishopricke of Reymes, and afterward that of Ravenna, and at last the popedom, as is sayd before, by the helpe of the divell; upon condition that after his death, he should be wholly his, by whose subtilty he had attained to that high dignitie. And although in his popedome he dissembled his necromancy, yet he kept in a secret place a brasen head, of whom he received answere of such things as he was disposed to demand of the divell. At length when this Gilbert, desirous to reigne long, asked the divell how long he should live pope, the wicked spirit answered him cunningly after his maner, that if he came not to Jerusalem, he should live long. And as it happened him to say masse, after he had reigned four years and somewhat more, in a church called the holy crosse at Jerusalem, he fell suddenly into an extreame fever, and knew by the rumbling and noyse of the divell, (who looked for performance of his promise) that his time was come to dye: but he falling into an earnest repentance, and openly confessing his impietie and familiarity with the divell to the people, bewailed his grievous offence committed against God, and exhorted all men to beware of ambition, and the subtiltie of the divell, and to lead an honest and godly life. When he perceived that death approached, he desired that his hands and tongue might be cut off, because with them he had blasphemed God, and sacrificed to the divell, and then that his mangled carkase, as it had deserved, might be layd in a cart, and the horses driven forth without any guide, and where they did of their owne accord stay, that there his body might be buried. All which things being done, the horses stayed when they came against a church

of Lateran, where they tooke him forth and buried him: whereby men conjecture, that through his repentance God shewed him mercy. Neverthelesse, whatsoever became of his soule, the divell would not leave his old acquaintance with his body in many years after. For their writers report, that a little before the death of many Popes that succeeded him, his bones should be heard to rattle, and his tombe would sweate. By which signes men knew that a Pope would shortly dye. But if a common custome had not altered the case, and qualified the greatnesse of the fault, it would have seemed strange, that they which professe themselves to bee vicars of Christ, should bee so familiarly acquainted with the divell. For there were eighteene Popes necromancers, one succeeding another, as some write."

We think the reader will be pleased with Sir Richard's mode of dishing up this story.

There was a disputation on a time between this Solon, who was married and had one onely sonne, a towardly young man, and Thales another of the sages, that was unmarried; which estate was better, marriage or a single life: Solon commended matrimony, Thales preferred the other and when he perceived that he could not perswade Solon by reason and argument to be of his opinion, he practised this device. When their talke was ended, being both at Thales his house, Thales went forth and caused one to faine an errand to him, and say as he had instructed him, as though hee came from Athens, where Solon's dwelling was: this man like a stranger, as these two wise men were talking together within the house, knocketh at the doore; Thales letteth him in the man faineth a message to him from a friend of his at Athens: Solon hearing him say that hee came from Athens, went forth of the next roome to him, and asked what newes at Athens? Little newes (quoth he) but as I came forth of the city, I saw the senatours and principall men of Athens going to the buriall of a young man. Solon going into the other roome againe, and musing who this should bee, being in some doubt lest peradventure it should bee his sonne, commeth forth to him againe, and asked him whether he knew who it should be that was dead? He answered that he had forgotten his name, but it was the onely sonne of a notable man in Athens, and that for the reverence and love that they did beare to his father, all the nobilitie and principal men of the city went to his buriall. Then Solon greatly confused and troubled in minde, goeth from him againe, fearing his owne sonne, and being farre out of quiet, returneth to aske him, whether he could not call to remembrance the name of this young man's father, if he heard it reckoned? He answered, that he thought he could remember his name, if he might heare it againe. And after Solon had reckoned up the names of a great many of the principall men of the city, and the other denying them to be the man, he came at last to his own name, and asked whether he were not called Solon? And when the other affirmed that to be the name of the father of this young man that was dead, Solon cryeth out upon his onely sonne, and maketh great lamentation; he teareth his haire, and beateth his head against the wall, and doth all things that men use to do in ca

lamitie. When Thales had beheld him a while in this passion, be of good comfort, Solon, (saith he) thy sonne liveth; but now yee see by your owne example what evill things are incident to marriage."

The following is one of the author's illustrations of the first proposition, that felicity does not consist in pleasure:

"The Indians have a manner, when they have taken one of their enemies prisoner, whom they meane not presently to eate, not to imprison him, as the use is in these parts of the world, but they bring him with great triumph into the village, where hee dwelleth that hath taken him, and there place him in a house of some man that was lately slaine in the warres, as it were to re-celebrate his funerals, and give unto him his wives and sisters to attend upon him, and to use at his pleasure. They apparel him gorgeously after their manner, and feede him with all the daintie meats that may be had, and give him all the pleasures that can be devised. When hee hath passed certaine moneths in all manner of pleasures, like an epicure, and is made fat with daintie and delicate fare, like a capon, they assemble themselves together at some festivall day, and in great pompe bring him to the place of execution, where they kill him and eate him. This is the end of this poore captive's pleasures, and the beginning of his miseries; whose case is nothing inferiour to theirs, who, enjoying the pleasures of this life for a small time, wherein they put their felicitie, are rewarded with death and perpetuall torments."

In the same book, he relates a custom of the Egyptians.

"The Egyptians had a custome not unmeet to bee used at the carowsing banquets; their manner was, in the middest of their feasts to have brought before them an anatomie of a dead body dried, that the sight and horror thereof putting them in minde to what passe themselves should one day come, might containe them in modesty. But, peradventure, things are fallen so far from their right course, that that device will not so well serve the turne, as if the carowsers of these later daies were perswaded, as Mahomet perswaded his followers when hee forbad them the drinking of wine, that in every grape their dwelt a divell. But when they have taken in their cups, it seemeth that many of them doe fear neither the divell nor any thing else."

To convince his reader that the SUMMUM BONUM is not to be found in riches, he cites, amongst sundry well-known "examples," this:

"And this was a strange thing, that happened of late in the yeare of grace, one thousand five hundred ninetie one: there was one Mark Bragadin that professed himselfe to bee an excellent alcumist, but indeed a notable magician. This man came from Venice into Baviere, and there practised to make gold in such abundance, that he would give his friends whole lumps of gold; making no more estimation of gold than of brass or iron: he lived stately like a prince, kept a bountifull house, and had servants of great account, and was saluted with

a title of dignitie, and drew many princes into admiration of him; insomuch, as he was accounted another Paracelsus. And after hee had long exercised his art, made himselfe knowne to all the princes, and was desired of them all, hee came at length into the Duke of Baviere's court, who finding after a while his fraud and illusions, committed him to prison. And when the Duke had commanded him to bee examined, and put to the torture, he desired he might suffer no such paine, promising that he would confesse of his own accord all the wickedness that ever he had committed, and exhibited accordingly to the Duke, in writing, the whole course of his lewd life, desiring neverthelesse that it might not be published. Hee confessed, that he was worthy to dye, but yet made humble sute that his concubine Signora Caura, and his whole familie, might returne untouched into Italie. Not long after, sentence was given against him. First: that his two dogs, whose help he had used in his magicke matters, should be shot through with muskets, and himselfe should have his head stricken off. For this milde sentence hee gave thanks to the prince, alledging he had deserved a much more severe judgment, and at least was worthy to be burned. The next day a new gallowes was set up, covered with copper, and an halter tyed in the middest, covered likewise with copper, signifying his deceit in making gold. Hard by the gallowes was set up a scaffold aloft, covered with blacke cloth: upon the scaffold was placed a seat, wherein this alcumist sate, arrayed in mourning apparell. And as hee sate the executioner strake off his head."

The following are a few instances of excessive avarice which of course belongs to the same general head:

"Yet some have beene so wedded to their riches, that they have used all the meanes they could to take them with them. Atheneus reporteth of one, that at the houre of his death devoured many peeces of gold, and sewed the rest in his coat, commanding that they should be all buried with him. Hermocrates being loth that any man should enjoy his goods after him, made himselfe by his will heir of his owne goods. The Cardinall Sylberperger tooke so great a pleasure in money, that when hee was greviously tormented with the gowt, his onely remedy to ease the paine, was to have a bason full of gold set before him, into which hee would put his lame hands, turning the gold upside-downe. Hermon was so covetous, that dreaming on a time hee had spent a certaine summe of money, for very sorrow be strangled himselfe. And one Phidon was so extremely overcome with that passion of covetousnes, that being fallen into desperation through a losse received, he would not hang himselfe, for spending of three halfe pence to buy him an halter, but sought a way to death better cheape. One Antonio Batistei, an Italian, having lost in a ship that was drowned, five hundred crowns, determined like a desperate man to hang himself; and as he was about to fasten the rope to a beame for that purpose, he found by chance there hidden, a thousand crownes. And being very glad of this good fortune, hee exchanged the halter for the crownes, and went away. Not long after he was gone, the owner came thither to see his gold; but when he perceived the crownes to be gone, hee

fell into such extreme griefe, that hee presently hanged himself with the halter that he found in their place."

We have extracted the following story from the third book; it is prettily told, and the beginning is fine.

"Tritemius the abbot, an excellent learned man, and worthy of fame (if by adding necromancy to the rest of his learning, he had not made himselfe infamous) by his own confession, burned with an excessive desire of vainglorie. For (saith he) as I went up and downe musing and devising with my selfe how I might finde something, that never any man knew before, and that all men might wonder at, and layd my selfe down to sleepe in an evening, with the same cogitations, there came one to me in the night that I knew not, and excited me to persever in my intended purpose, promising me his helpe, which he performed. What kind of learning hee taught him (he sayd) was not meete for the common sort, but to be knowne onely of princes; whereof hee sheweth some examples, denying the same to be done by the divell's helpe, but by naturall meanes, to which hee will hardly perswade any man of judgment. And though he would cover some of his strange feates, under the pretext of nature, yet his familiaritie with the divell, in many things was apparent. The Emperor Maximilian the first, married with Marie the daughter of Charles Duke of Burgundy, whose death (loving her dearly) he took greviously. This abbot perceiving his great love towards her, told him, that he would shew him his wife againe. The Emperor desirous to see her, went with the abbot, and one more into a chamber. The abbot forbad them for their lives to speake one word whilest the spirit was there. Marie the Emperour's wife commeth in, and walketh up and downe by them very soberly, so much resembling her when shee was alive in all points, that there was no difference to be found. The Emperour marvelling to see so lively a resemblance, called to mind that his wife had a little blacke spot (a mole as some call it) behind in her necke, which he determined to observe the next time shee passed by him, and beholding her very earnestly, hee found the mole in the very same place of her necke. Maximilian, being much troubled in minde with this strange sight, winked upon the abbot, that hee should avoyd the spirit. Which being done, he commanded him to shew him no more of these pastimes, protesting that hee was hardly able to forbeare speaking: which if hee had done, the spirit had killed them all. The divell was so ready at the abbot's commandment, that as he travelled on a time in the company of a man of account, who reported this story, they came into a house, where was neither good meate nor drink, the abbot knocked at the window, and sayd, adfer, fetch. Not long after, there was brought in at the window, a sodden pickerell in a dish, and a bottle of wine. The abbott fell to his meate, but his companion's stomacke would not serve him to eate of such a caterer's provisions."

Our author gives us a fabulous story from Ælian, well narrated, and with great simplicity.