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ONE day draweth on another; and I am well pleased in my being here; for methinks solitariness collecteth the mind, as shutting the eyes doth the sight. I pray you therefore advertise me what you find, by my lord of Essex, (who, I am sure, hath been with you,) was done last Sunday; and what he conceiveth of the matter. I hold in one secret, and therefore you may trust your servant. I would be glad to receive my parsonage rent as soon as it cometh. So I leave you to God's good preservation. Your ever loving brother,

From Twickenham-Park, this Tuesday morning, 1594.

Indorsed, 16 Oct. 1594.


alleged she was then to resolve with the council upon her places of law. But this resolution was ut supra; and note, the rest of the counsellors were persuaded she came rather forwards than otherwise; for against me she is never peremptory but to my lord of Essex. I missed a line of my lord keeper's; but thus much I hear otherwise. The queen seemeth to apprehend my travel. Whereupon I was sent for by Sir Robert Cecil in sort as from her Majesty; himself having of purpose immediately gone to London to speak with me; and not finding me there, he wrote to me. Whereupon I came to the court, and upon his relation to me of her Majesty's speeches, I desired leave to answer it in writing; not, I said, that I mistrusted his report, but mine own wit; the copy of which answer I send. We parted in kindness secundum exterius. This copy you must needs return; for I have no other; and I wrote this by memory after the original was sent away. The queen's speech is after this sort. Why? I have made no solicitor. Hath any body carried a solicitor with him in his pocket? But he must have it in his own time, (as if it were but yester day's nomination,) or else I must be thought to cast him away. Then her Majesty sweareth thus; "If I continue this manner, she will seek all England for a solicitor rather than take me. Yea, she will send for Heuston and Coventry § to-morrow next," as if she would swear them both. Again she entereth into it, that "she never deals so with any as with me, (in hoc erratum non est,) she hath pulled me over the bar, (note the words, for they cannot be her own,) she hath used me in her greatest causes. But this is Essex; and she is more angry with him than with me." And such like speeches so strange as I should lose myself in it, but that I have cast off the care of it. My conceit is, that I am the least part of mine own matter. But her Majesty would have a delay, and yet would not bear it her

EARL OF ESSEX TO MR. FRANCIS BACON.t self. Therefore she giveth no way to me, and she

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perceiveth her council giveth no way to others; and so it sticketh as she would have it. But what the secret of it is, oculus aquilæ non penetravit. My lord || continueth on kindly and wisely a course wor thy to obtain a better effect than a delay, which to

me is the most unwelcome condition.

Now to return to you the part of a brother, and to render you the like kindness, advise you, whether it were not a good time to set in strongly with the queen to draw her to honour your travels. For in the course I am like to take, it will be a great and necessary stay to me, besides the natural comfort I shall receive. And if you will have me deal with my lord of Essex, or otherwise break it by mean to the queen, as that, which shall give me full contentment, I will do it as effectually, and with as much good discretion, as I can. Wherein if you aid me with your direction, I shall observe it. This as I did ever account it sure and certain to be accomplished, in case myself had been placed, and therefore deferred it till then, as to the proper op

Thomas Coventry, afterwards one of the justices of the common pleas, and father of the lord keeper Coventry. Essex.

portunity; so now that I see such delay in mine own placing, I wish ex animo it should not expect. I pray you let me know what mine uncle Killigrew will do; for I must be more careful of my credit than ever, since I receive so little thence where I deserved best. And to be plain with you, I mean even to make the best of those small things I have with as much expedition, as may be without loss; and so sing a mass of requiem, I hope, abroad. For I know her Majesty's nature, that she neither careth though the whole surname of Bacons travelled, nor of the Cecils neither.

I have here an idle pen or two, specially one, that was cozened, thinking to have got some money this term. I pray send me somewhat else for them to write out besides your Irish collection, which is almost done. There is a collection of king James, of foreign states, largeliest of Flanders; which, though it be no great matter, yet I would be glad to have it. Thus I commend you to God's good protection.

Your entire loving brother,


From my lodging at Twickenham-Park, this 25th of January, 1594.



YOUR honour may remember, that upon relation of her Majesty's speech concerning my travel, I asked leave to make answer in writing; not but I knew then what was true, but because I was careful to express it without doing myself wrong. And it is true, I had then opinion to have written to her Majesty but since weighing with myself, that her Majesty gave no ear to the motion made by yourself, that I might answer by mine own attendance, I began to doubt the second degree, whether it might not be taken for presumption in me to write to her Majesty; and so resolved, that it was best for me to follow her Majesty's own way in committing it to your report.

It may please your honour to deliver to her Majesty, first, that it is an exceeding grief to me, that any not motion (for it was not a motion) but mention,

Mr. Antony Bacon had written to Sir Henry Killigrew the 11th of January, 1591-5, to desire the loan of two hunred pounds for six months. Vol. iv, fol. 4.

Among the Papers of Antony Bacon, Esq. vol. iv. fol. 31.
Bishop Gibson's papers, vol. v. No. 118.

An account of this device, which was much applauded, is en by Mr. Rowland Whyte to Sir Robert Sydney, in a letter dated at London, Saturday the 22nd of November, 1595, and printed in the Letters and Memorials of State of the Sydney family, vol. i. p. 362. According to this letter, the arl of Essex, some considerable time before he came himself to the tilt-yard, sent his page with some speech to the queen, who returned with her Majesty's glove; and when his lordip came himself, he was met by an old hermit, a secretary of state, a brave soldier, and an esquire. The first presented bum with a book of meditations; the second with political disCourses; the third with orations of bravely fought battles; the

that should come from me, should offend her Majesty, whom for these one and twenty years (for so long it is, that I kissed her Majesty's hands upon my journey into France) I have used the best of my wits to please.

Next, mine answer standing upon two points, the one, that this mention of travel to my lord of Essex was no present motion, suit, or request; but casting the worst of my fortune with an honourable friend, that had long used me privately, I told his lordship of this purpose of mine to travel, accompanying it with these very words, that upon her Majesty's rejecting me with such circumstance, though my heart might be good, yet mine eyes would be sore, that I should take no pleasure to look upon my friends; for that I was not an impudent man, that could face out a disgrace; and that I hoped her Majesty would not be offended, that, not able to endure the sun, I fled into the shade. The other, that it was more than this; for I did expressly and particularly (for so much wit God then lent me) by way of caveat restrain my lord's good affection, that he should in no wise utter or mention this matter till her Majesty had made a solicitor: where with (now since my looking upon your letter) I did in a dutiful manner challenge my lord, who very honourably acknowledged it, seeing he did it for the best: and therefore I leave his lordship to answer for himself. All this my lord of Essex can testify to be true; and I report me to yourself, whether at the first, when I desired deliberation to answer, yet nevertheless said, I would to you privately declare what had passed, I said not in effect so much. The conclusion shall be, that wheresoever God and her Majesty shall appoint me to live, I shall truly pray for her Majesty's preservation and felicity. And so I humbly commend me to you.

Your poor kinsman to do you service,

Indorsed, January, 1594.

The Speeches ‡ drawn up by Mr. FRANCIS BACON for the Earl of ESSEX in a device § exhibited by his lordship before Queen ELIZABETH, on the anniversary of her accession to the throne November 17, 1595.


MOST excellent and most glorious queen, give me fourth was his own follower to whom the other three imparted much of their purpose before the earl came in. "Another," adds Mr. Whyte, "devised with him, persuading him to this and that course of life, according to their inclinations. Comes into the tilt-yard, unthought upon, the ordinary post-boy of London, a ragged villain, all bemired, upon a poor lean jade galloping and blowing for life, and delivered the secretary a packet of letters, which he presently offered my lord of Essex. And with this dumb show our eyes were fed for that time. In the after-supper, before the queen; they first delivered a wellpenned speech to move this worthy knight to leave his following of love, and to betake him to heavenly meditation; the secretary's all tending to have him follow matters of state; the soldier's persuading him to the war: but the squire answered them all, and concluded with an excellent, but too plain, English, that this knight would never forsake his mistress's love, whose virtue made all his thoughts divine; whose wisdom

leave, I beseech your Majesty, to offer my master's | the muses is above tempests, always clear and calm;

complaint and petition; complaint, that coming hither to your Majesty's most happy day, he is tormented with the importunity of a melancholy dreaming hermit, a mutinous brain-sick soldier, and a busy tedious secretary. His petition is, that he may be as free as the rest; and, at least, whilst he is here, troubled with nothing but with care how to please and honour you.


THOUGH Our ends be diverse, and therefore may be one more just than another; yet the complaint of this Squire is general, and therefore alike unjust against us all. Albeit he is angry, that we offer ourselves to his master uncalled, and forgets we come not of ourselves, but as the messengers of selflove, from whom all that comes should be well taken. He saith, when we come, we are importunate. If he mean, that we err in form, we have that of his master, who being a lover, useth no other form of soliciting. If he will charge us to err in matter, I for my part will presently prove, that I persuade him to nothing but for his own good. For I wish him to leave turning over the book of fortune, which is but a play for children; when there be so many books of truth and knowledge, better worthy the revolving; and not fix his view only upon a picture in a little table, when there be so many tables of histories, yea to life, excellent to behold and admire. Whether he believe me or no, there is no prison to the prison of the thoughts, which are free under the greatest tyrants. Shall any man make his conceit, as an anchorite, mured up with the compass of one beauty or person, that may have the liberty of all contemplation? Shall he exchange the sweet travelling through the universal variety, for one wearisome and endless round or labyrinth? Let thy master, Squire, offer his service to the muses. It is long since they received any into their court. They give alms continually at their gate, that many come to live upon; but few they have ever admitted into their palace. There shall he find secrets not dangerous to know; sides and parties not factious to hold; precepts and commandments not penal to disobey. The gardens of love, wherein he now placeth himself, are fresh to-day, and fading to-morrow, as the sun comforts them, or is turned from them. But the gardens of the muses keep the privilege of the golden age; they ever flourish, and are in league with time. The monuments of wit survive the monuments of power. The verses of a poet endure without a syllable lost, while states and empires pass many periods. Let him not think he shall descend; for he is now upon a hill, as a ship is mounted upon the ridge of a wave: but that hill of taught him all true policy; whose beauty and worth were at all times able to make him fit to command armies. He showed all the defects and imperfections of all their times; and therefore thought his course of life to be best in serving his mistress." Mr. Whyte then mentions, that the part of the old hermit was performed by him, who at Cambridge played that of Giraldi; that Morley acted the secretary, and that the soldier was represented by him, who acted the pe

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a hill of the goodliest discovery that man can have, being a prospect upon all the errors and wanderings of the present and former times. Yea, in some cliff it leadeth the eye beyond the horizon of time, and giveth no obscure divinations of times to come. So that if he will indeed lead vitam vitalem, a life that unites safety and dignity, pleasure and merit; if he will win admiration without envy; if he will be in the feast, and not in the throng; in the light, and not in the heat; let him embrace the life of study and contemplation. And if he will accept of no other reason, yet because the gift of the muses will enworthy him in love, and where he now looks on his mistress's outside with the eyes of sense, which are dazzled and amazed, he shall then behold her high perfections and heavenly mind with the eyes of judgment, which grow stronger by more nearly and more directly viewing such an object.


SQUIRE, the good old man hath said well to you; but I dare say, thou wouldst be sorry to leave to carry thy master's shield, and to carry his books: and I am sure thy master had rather be a falcon, a bird of prey, than a singing bird in a cage. The muses are to serve martial men, to sing their famous actions; and not to be served by them. Then hearken to me.

It is the war that giveth all spirits of valour, not only honour, but contentment. For mark, whether ever you did see a man grown to any honourable commandment in the wars, but whensoever he gave it over, he was ready to die with melancholy? Such a sweet felicity is that noble exercise, that he, that hath tasted it thoroughly, is distasted for all other. And no marvel; for if the hunter takes such solace in his chace; if the matches and wagers of sport pass away with such satisfaction and delight; if the looker on be affected with pleasure in the representation of a feigned tragedy: think what contentment a man receiveth, when they, that are equal to him in nature, from the height of insolency and fury are brought to the condition of a chased prey; when a victory is obtained, whereof the victories of games are but counterfeits and shadows; and, when in a lively tragedy, a man's enemies are sacrificed before his eyes to his fortune.

Then for the dignity of military profession, is it not the truest and perfectest practice of all virtues? of wisdoms in disposing those things, which are most subject to confusion and accident: of justice, in continual distributing rewards: of temperance, in exercising of the straitest discipline: of fortitude, in toleration of all labours, and abstinence from effeminate delights of constancy, in bearing and dant, and that Mr. Tobie Matthew was the squire. "The world," says Mr. Whyte, “makes many untrue constructions of these speeches, comparing the hermit and the secretary to two of the lords; and the soldier to Sir Roger Williams. But the queen said, that if she had thought there had been so much said of her, she would not have been there that night; and so went to bed."

digesting the greatest variety of fortune. So that when all other places and professions require but their several virtues, a brave leader in the wars must be accomplished with all. It is the wars that are the tribunal seat, where the highest rights and possessions are decided; the occupation of kings, the root of nobility, the protection of all estates. And lastly, lovers never thought their profession sufficiently graced, till they have compared it to a warfare. All, that in any other profession can be wished for, is but to live happily; but to be a brave commander in the field, death itself doth crown the head with glory. Therefore, Squire, let thy master go with me; and though he be resolved in the pursuit of his love, let him aspire to it by the noblest means. For ladies count it no honour to subdue them with their fairest eyes, which will be daunted with the fierce encounter of an enemy. And they will quickly discern a champion fit to wear their glove, from a page not worthy to carry their pantoffe. Therefore, I say again, let him seek his fortune in the field, where he may either lose his love, or find new argument to advance it.



| But what, Squire, is thy master's end? If to make the prince happy he serves, let the instructions to employ men, the relations of ambassadors, the treaties between princes, and actions of the present time, be the books he reads: let the orations of wise princes, or experimented counsellors, in council or parliament, and the final sentences of grave and learned judges in weighty and doubtful causes, be the lecturers he frequents. Let the holding of affection with confederates without charge, the frustrating of the attempts of enemies without battles, the entitling of the crown to new possessions without show of wrong, the filling of the prince's coffers without violence, the keeping of men in appetite without impatience, be the inventions he seeks out. Let policy and matters of state be the chief, and almost the only thing he intends. But if he will believe Philautia, and seek most his own happiness, he must not of them embrace all kinds, but make choice, and avoid all matter of peril, displeasure, and charge, and turn them over to some novices, that know not manacles from bracelets, nor burdens from robes. For himself, let him set for matters of commodity and strength, though they be joined with envy. Let him not trouble himself too laboriously to sound into any matter deeply, or to execute any thing exactly; but let himself make himself cunning rather in the humours and drifts of persons, than in the nature of business and affairs. Of that it sufficeth to know only so much, as may make him able to make use of other men's wits, and to make again a smooth and pleasing report. Let him entertain the proposition of others, and ever rather let him have an eye to the circumstances, than to the matter itself; for then shall he ever seem to add somewhat of his own and besides, when a man doth not forget so much as a circumstance, men do think his wit doth superabound for the substance. In his counsels let him not be confident; for that will rather make him obnoxious to the success; but let him follow the wisdom of oracles, which uttered that which might ever be applied to the event. And ever rather let him take the side which is likeliest to be followed, than that which is soundest and best, that every thing may seem to be carried by his direction. To conclude, let him be true to himself, and avoid all tedious reaches of state, that are not merely pertinent to his particular. And if he will needs pursue his affection, and go on his course, what can so much advance him in his own way? The merit of war is too outwardly glorious to be inwardly grateful and it is the exile of his eyes, which looking with such affection upon the picture, cannot but with infinite contentment behold the life. But when his mistress shall perceive, that his endeavours are become a true support of her, a discharge of her care, a watchman of her person, a scholar of her wisdom, an instrument of her operation, and a conduit of her virtue; this, with his diligences, accesses, humility, and patience, may move her to give him further degrees and approaches to her favour. So that I conclude, I have traced him the way to that, which hath been granted to nothing, and every cavil or imputation very great. some few, amare et sapere, to love and to be wise.

SQUIRE, my advice to thy master shall be as a token wrapped up in words: but then will it show itself fair when it is unfolded in his actions. wish him to change from one humour to another, were but as if, for the cure of a man in pain, one should advise him to lay upon the other side, but not enable him to stand on his feet. If from a sanguine delightful humour of love, he turn to a melancholy retired humour of contemplation, or a turbulent boiling humour of the wars; what doth he but change tyrants? Contemplation is a dream; love, a trance; and the humour of war is raving. These be shifts of humour, but no reclaiming to reason. I debar him not studies nor books, to give him stay and variety of conceit, refresh his mind, to cover sloth and indisposition, and to draw to him from those that are studious, respect and commendation. But let him beware, lest they possess not too much of his time; that they abstract not his judgment from present experience, nor make him presume upon knowing much, to apply the less. For the wars, I deny him no enterprise, that shall be worthy in greatness, likely in success, or necessary in duty; not mixed with any circumstance of jealousy, but duly laid upon him. But I would not have him take the alarm from his own humour, but from the occasion; and I would again he should know an employment from a discourting. And for his love, let it not disarm his heart within, as to make him too credulous to favours, nor too tender to unkindnesses, nor too apt to depend upon the heart he knows not, Nay in his demonstration of love, let him not go too far; for these seely lovers, when they profess such infinite affection and obligation, they tax themselves at so high a rate, that they are ever under arrest. It makes their service seem



WANDERING Hermit, storming Soldier, and hollow Statesman, the enchanting orators of Philautia, which have attempted by your high charms to turn resolved Erophilus into a statue deprived of action, or into a vulture attending about dead bodies, or into a monster with a double heart; with infinite assurance, but with just indignation and forced patience, I have suffered you to bring in play your whole forces. For I would not vouchsafe to combat you one by one, as if I trusted to the goodness of my breath, and not the goodness of my strength, which little needeth the advantage of your severing, and much less of your disagreeing. Therefore, first, I would know of you all what assurance you have of the fruit whereto you aspire.

You, Father, that pretend to truth and knowledge, how are you assured that you adore not vain chimæras and imaginations? that in your high prospect, when you think men wander up and down; that they stand not indeed still in their place? and it is some smoke or cloud between you and them, which moveth, or else the dazzling of your own eyes? Have not many, which take themselves to be inward counsellors with nature, proved but idle believers, which told us tales, which were no such matter? And, Soldier, what security have you for these victories and garlands which you promise to yourself? Know you not of many which have made provision of laurel for the victory, and have been fain to exchange it with cypress for the funeral? of many which have bespoken fame to sound their triumphs, and have been glad to pray her to say nothing of them, and not to discover them in their flights? Corrupt Statesman, you that think by your engines and motions to govern the wheel of fortune, do you not mark, that clocks cannot be long in temper? that jugglers are no longer in request, when their tricks and slights are once perceived? Nay, do you not see, that never any man made his own cunning and practice, without religion and moral honesty, his foundation, but he overbuilt himself, and in the end made his house a windfall? But give ear now to the comparison of my master's condition, and acknowledge such a difference, as is betwixt the melting hailstone and the solid pearl. Indeed it seemeth to depend, as the globe of the earth seemeth to hang, in the air; but yet it is firm and stable in itself. It is like a cube, or a die-form, which toss it or throw it any way, it ever lighteth upon a square. Is he denied the hopes of favours to come? He can resort to the remembrance of contentments past. Destiny cannot repeal that which is past. Doth he find the acknowledgment of his affection small? He may find the merit of his affection the greater. Fortune cannot have power over that which is within. Nay, his falls are like the falls of Antæus; they renew his strength. His clouds are like the clouds of harvest, which make the sun break forth with greater force. His wanes are changes like the moon's, whose globe is all light towards the sun, when it is all dark towards the world; such is the excellency

of her nature, and of his estate. Attend, you beadsman of the muses, you take your pleasure in a wilderness of variety; but it is but of shadows. You are as a man rich in pictures, medals, and crystals. Your mind is of the water, which taketh all forms and impressions, but is weak of substance. Will you compare shadows with bodies, picture with life, variety of many beauties with the peerless excellency of one? the element of water with the element of fire? and such is the comparison between knowledge and love.

Come out, man of war; you must be ever in noise. You will give laws, and advance force, and trouble nations, and remove land-marks of kingdoms, and hunt men, and pen tragedies in blood: and that, which is worst of all, make all the virtues accessary to bloodshed. Hath the practice of force so deprived you of the use of reason, as that you will compare the interruption of society with the perfection of society? the conquest of bodies with the conquest of spirits? the terrestrial fire, which destroyeth and dissolveth, with the celestial fire, which quickeneth and giveth life? And such is the comparison be tween the soldier and the lover.

And as for you, untrue Politique, but truest bondman to Philautia, you that presume to bind occasion, and to overwork fortune, I would ask you but one question. Did ever any lady, hard to please, or disposed to exercise her lover, enjoin him so good tasks and commandments, as Philautia exacteth of you? While your life is nothing but a continual acting upon a stage; and that your mind must serve your humour, and yet your outward person must serve your end; so as you carry in one person two several servitudes to contrary masters. But I will leave you to the scorn of that mistress, whom you undertake to govern; that is, to fortune, to whom | Philautia hath bound you. And yet, you commissioner of Philautia, I will proceed one degree farther: if I allowed both of your assurance, and of your values, as you have set them, may not my master enjoy his own felicity, and have all yours for advantage? I do not mean, that he should divide himself in both pursuits, as in your feigning tales towards the conclusion you did yield him; but because all these are in the hands of his mistress more fully to bestow, than they can be attained by your addresses, knowledge, fame, fortune. For the muses, they are tributary to her Majesty for the great liberties they have enjoyed in her kingdom, during her most flourishing reign; in thankfulness whereof they have adorned and accomplished her Majesty with the gifts of all the sisters. What library can present such a story of great actions, as her Majesty carrieth in her royal breast by the often return of this happy day? What worthy author or favourite of the muses, is not familiar with her? Or what language, wherein the muses have used to speak, is unknown to her? Therefore, the hearing of her, the observing of her, the receiving instructions from her, may be to Erophilus a lecture exceeding all dead monuments of the muses. For Fame, can all the exploits of the war win him such a title, as to have the name of favoured and selected

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