The Historie of the World.

Commonly called,

THE NATURALL HISTORIE OF
C. PLINIUS SECUNDUS.

Translated into English by PHILEMON HOLLAND
Doctor in Physic.
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1601

The Contents

The Dedicatory Letter P. i (unnumbered)
The Preface to the Reader PP. ii-vii (unnumbered)
Errata P. viii (unnumbered)
Plinies Epistle to T. Vespasian PP. ix-xvi (unnumbered)
Book I (Pliny's table of contents) PP. 1- (unnumbered)
Book II (The earth in general: weather, astronomy, the size of the earth and its nature.) PP. 1-49
Book III (Geography: Europe.) PP. 50-71
Book VII (The nature of man: length of life, time of gestation, biggest, smallest, life and death, inventions, and many and sundry stories.) PP. 152-191
Book VIII (Terrestrial beasts other than man: elephants, bears, tigers, lions, snails, mice, rats, dormice, along with the more fabulous basilisks and so on.) PP. 192-234
Book IX (Fishes and aquatic animals and their productions: mice of the Nile, pearls, purple, land-fish, lobsters, octopodes, squids, pike, oysters, and shrimp. And so on.) PP. 234-270
Book X (Birds, with digressions on fertility, modes of reproduction, the enmities and friendships of animals one for the other, whether animals sleep and dream, and animal senses. And a few tirades on luxurious diet.) PP. 270-309
Book XI (Insects, supposedly, although they occupy less than half of a very long book; the remainder is parts of animals (necks and gizzards and arms, that is), more asides on diet, and stories about the names of Romans.) PP. 310-356
 

The Preface to the Reader.

Happie were they in they in times past reputed (and not unworthily) who had that gratious and heavenly gift, aut facere scribenda, aut scribere legenda: that is to say, either to doe such things as deserved to be written, or to write that which was worth the reading. Those that could not attaine to these two braunches of felicitie, and yet utterly misliked idlenes, contented themselves in a third degree, namely, to take in hand the old works of their auncients, and by new labours to immortalize their memorie. Thus Nicophantes (a famous painter in his time) gave his mind wholly to antique pictures, partly to exemplifie and take out their patternes after that in long continuance of time they were decaied; and in part to repaire and reforme the same, if haply by some iniurious accident they were defaced. The ingenuous mind of this artizan thus devoted to antiquitie, as I doe highly commend; so I cannot chuse but embrace his pollicie, seeking hereby to avoid the envie and reproofe of others. In this number I must raunge those learned men in severall ages, who to illustrat the monuments left by former writers, have annexed unto them their Commentaries; to save them entire and uncorrupt, have set thereto iudiciall observations; and to publish them for a generall benefit of posteritie, have translated the same into their mother language. As for my selfe, since it is neither my hap nor hope to attaine to such perfection, as to bring foorth somewhat of mine owne which may quit the pains of a reader, and much lesse to performe any action that might minister matter to a writer, and yet so farre bound unto my native countrey and the blessed state wherein I have lived, as to render an account of my yeers passed & studies employed, during this long time of peace and tranquilitie, wherein (under the most gratious and happie government of a peerelesse Princesse, assisted with so prudent, politique, and learned Counsell) all good literature hath had free progresse and flourished, in no age so much: me thought I owed this dutie, to leave for my part also (after many others) some small memoriall, that might give testimonie another day what fruits generally this peaceable age of our hath produced. Endeavoured I have therefore to stand in this third ranke, and bestowed those hours which might be spared from the practice of my profession, and the necessarie cares of this life, to satisife my countreymen now living, and to graitife the age ensuing, in this kind. Like as therefore I have travailed in Titus Livius a renowned Historiographer, so I have proceeded to deale with Plinius Secundus the elder, as famous a Philosopher. Now, albeit my intention and only scope was, to do a pleasure unto them that could not read these authours in the originall: yet needs I must confesse, that even my selfe have not only gained therby encrease of the Latine tongue (wherein these works were written) but also growne to farther knowledge of the matter and argument therein contained. For this benefit wee reape by studying the books of such auncient authours, That the oftener we read them over, the more still we find and learne in them, as beeing so iudiciously and pithily penned, that, as the Poet said verie well, decies repetita placerent. Well may the newest songs and last devised plaies delight our ears at the first, and for the present ravish our senses; like as horarie and early Summer fruits content our tast and please the appetit: but surely it is antiquitie that hath given grace, vigor, & strength to writings; even as age commendeth the most generous and best wines. In which regard, and upon this experience of mine owne, I nothing doubt but they also whome I might iustly feare as hard censours of these my labours, will not only pitie me for my pains, but also in some measure yeeld me thanks in the end, when either by the light of the English (if they bee young students) they shall be able more readily to goe away with the darke phrase and obscure construction of the Latine; or (being great schollers and taking themselves for deepe Criticks) by conferring the one with the other, haply to espie wherein I have tripped, they shall by that means peruse once againe, and consequently gather new profit out of that authour whom peradventure they had laid by for many yeers as sufficiently understood. When some benefit (I say) shall accrew unto them likewise by this occasion, I lesse dread their fearfull doome, to which so wilfully I have exposed my selfe. Well I wist, that among the Athenians, order was taken by law, That an enterlude newly acted should be heard with silence and applause: which custome, as it was respective and favourable to the first endeavors of the actours, so it implied an inevitable danger of hissing out and utter disgrace, if afterwards they chanced to misse and faile in their parts. Having shewed my selfe once before upon the stage, presuming upon this priviledge and the curtesie of the theatre, I might have now sitten still and so rested: In mounting up thus soon againe, I may seeme either in the assured confidence of mine owne worthinesse, to proclaime a challenge to all mens censures; or els upon a deepe conceit of some generall connivencie make reckning of an extraordinaire and wonderfull favour. But as the choise that I have made to publish the monuments of other men, without fathering any thing of mine owne, doth excuse and acquit me for the one; so the froward disposition of carpers in these daies wherein wee live, will checke the other. Howbeit, considering such pains undergone by me one man, for the pleasure of so many; so much time spent of mine, for gaining time to others; and some opportunities of privat lucre overslipt and lost, to win profit unto all; I feare not but these regards may deserve a friendly acceptance, & counterweigh all defects and faults escaped, whatsoever. The persuasion hereof, but principally the privitie of my affection at love unto my country (which assured me of a safe-conduct to passe peaceably through their hands who are of the better sort and well affected) induced me to a resolution not onely to enter upon this new taske, but also to breake through all difficulties, untill I had brought the same, if not to a full and absolute perfection, yet to an end and finall conclusion. Besides this naturall inclination & hope which carried me this way, other motives there were that made saile and set me forward. I saw how divers men before me had dealt with this authour, whiles some laboured to reforme whatsoever by iniurie of time was growne out of frame: others did their best to translate him into their own tongue, and namely, the Italian and French: moreover, the Title prefixed therto so univesall as it is, to wit, The Historie of the World, or Reports of Nature, imported (no doubt) that he first penned it for the generall good of mankind. Over and besides, the Argument ensuing full of varietie, furnished with discourses of all matters, not appropriate to the learned only, but accommodat to the rude paisant of the countrey; fitted for the painefull artizan in town and citie; pertinent to the bodily health of man, woman, and child; and in one woord, suiting with all sorts of people living in a societie and commonweale. To say nothing of the precedent given by the authour himselfe who endited the same, not with any affected phrase, but sorting well with the capacitie even of the meanest and most unlettered: who also translated a good part thereof out of the Greeke. What should I alledge the example of former times, wherein the like hath evermore been approved and practised? Why should any man therefore take offence hereat, and envie this good to his naturall countrey, which was first meant for the whole world? And yet some there be so grosse as to give out, That these and such like books ought not to be published in the vulgar tongue. It is a shame (quoth one) that Livie speaketh English as hee doth: Latinists onely are to bee acquainted with him: As who would say, the souldiour were to have recourse unto the universitie for militarie skill and knowledge; or the schollar to put on arms and pitch a campe. What should Plinie (saith another) bee read in English, and the mysteries couched in his books divulged: as if the husbandman, the mason, carpenter, goldsmith, painter, lapidarie, and engraver, with other artificers, were bound to seeke unto great clearks or linguists for instructions in their severall arts. Certes, such Momi as these, besides their blind and erroneous opinion, thinke not so honourably of their native countrey and mother tongue as they ought: who if they were so well affected that way as they should be, would wish rather and endeavour by all means to triumph now over the Romans in subduing their literature under the dent of the English pen, in requitall of the conquest sometime over this Island, atchieved by the edge of their sword. As for our speech, was not Latine as common and naturall in Italie, as English here with us. And if Plinie faulted not but deserved well of the Romane name, in laying abroad the riches and hidden treasures of Nature, in that Dialect or Idiome which was familiar to the basest clowne: why should any man be blamed for enterprising the semblable, to the commodotie of that countrey in which and for which he was borne. Are we the onely nation under heaven unworthie to tast of such knowledge? or is our language so barbarous, that it will not admit in proper tearms a forrein phrase? I honour them in my heart, who having of late daies troden the way before me in Plutarch, Tacitus, and others, have made good proofe, that as the tongue in an English mans head is framed so flexible and obsequent, that it can pronounce naturally any other language; so a pen in his hand is able sufficiently to expresse Greeke, Latine, and Hebrew. And my hope is, that after mee there will arise some industrious Flavij who may at length cornicum oculos configere. For if my selfe, a man by profession otherwise carried away, for gifts farre inferiour to many, and wanting such helps as others be furnished with, have in some sort taught those to speake English who were supposed verie untoward to bee brought unto it; what may be expected at their hands, who for leisure may attend better; in wit are more pregnant; and beeing graced with the opinion of men and favour of the time, may attempt what they will, and effect whatsoever they attempt with greater felicity? A painfull and tedious travaile I confesse it is; neither make I doubt but many do note me for much follie in spending time herein, and neglecting some compendious course of gathering good and pursing up pence. But when I looke back to the example of Plinie, I must of necessitie condemne both mine own sloth, and also reprove the supine negligence of these daies. A courtiour he was, and a great favourit of the Vespasians both father and sonne: an oratour besides, and pleaded many causes at the barre: a martiall man withall, and served often times as a leader and commander in the field; within the cittie of Rome he managed civile affairs, and bare honourable offices of State. Who would not thinke but each one of these places would require a whole man? and yet amid these occasions wherwith he was possessed, he penned Chronicles, wrate Commentaries, compiled Grammatical treatises, and many other volumes which at this day are utterly lost. As for the Historie of Nature now in hand, which sheweth him to be an excellent Philosopher and a man accomplished in all kind of literature (the only monument of his that hath escaped all daungers, and as another Palladium been reserved entire unto out time) wherein hee hath discoursed of all things even from the starrie heaven to the centre of the earth; a man would marveile how hee could possily either write or doe any thing els. But considering the agilitie of mans spirit alwaies in motion; an ardent desire to benefit posteritie, which in these volumes hee hath so often protested; his indefatigable studie both day and night, even to the iniurie of nature, and the same continued in everie place, as well abroad as within-house; in his iourney upon the high way, where his manner was to read and to indite; in his ordinarie passage through the streets betweene court and home, where hee gave himselfe no rest, but either read, or els found his notarie worke to write; and for that purpose rode usually in an easie litter, with the said Notarie close by his side: lesse wonder it is, that he perfourmed his service to prince and state according to his calling: and withall delivered unto posteritie so many fruis of wit and learning. For what is not the head of man able to compasse? especially making saile with a fervent desire and resolution to see an end, and besides taking the vantage of all moments, and loosing no time, wherof he was unus omnium parcissimus. Touching his affection to search into the secrets of Nature, it was that and nothing els which shortened his daies, and hastened his untimely death: for having lived not much above the middle age of man, desirous he was to know the reason, Why the hill Vesuvius burned so as it did? and approched so neare, that with the strong vapours and smoke issuing from thence, his breath was sodainly stopped, and himselfe found dead in the place: a man worthie to have lived for ever. What remaineth now, but onely to recommend unto my countreymen this work of his (which for mine owne part I wish to be immortall) were it not for one scruple to bee cleared, which at the first troubled my selfe a little, and might peradventure otherwise offend some readers. In attributing so much unto Nature, Plinie seemeth to derogat from the almightie God, to him agnwsoV; and therefore daungerous (saith one) to be divulged. Farre be it from me, that I should publish any thing to corrupt mens manners, and much lesse to preiudice Christian religion. After conference therefore with sundrie divines about this point, whom for their authoritie I reverence; whose learning I honor and embrace, and in whom for iudgement & synceritie of religion I rest, confirmed I was in my first purpose, and resolved to finish that which I had begun, namely, not to defraud the world of so rich a gem, for one small blemish appearing therein. And that it may appeare how I did not abound in mine owne sense, but had regard as well to satisfie the conscience of others as mine owne, I have thought good to annex immediatly hereunto, in manner of a Corollarie, the opinion of one grave and learned preacher concerning this doubt, as it was delivered unto me in writing; which for that it is grounded upon sufficient reasons, and accordeth with the iudgement of the rest, the lesse I respect the rash projects of some fantasticall spirits: nothing doubting, but the same will settle the minds of the weake, and free my labours from the taint of irreligion.

leafThe copie of the said Letter, written as touching the
Translation of Plinie.

MY beloved, in twentie yeers and better so many tokens of our mutuall love passing betweene us, I need not now to professe my affections to your selfe; and my daily conversing with you, hath yeelded my approbation of your tedious labor in translating Plinie. These few lines therefore shall onely serve to witnesse unto others the deserved account which for your learning I have alwaies made of you, and my conceit of this your travaile in opening to your countrymen the treasurie of Nature: therein to see and to admire the wisdome, power, and the goodnesse of the only true God, the Framer of Nature. I am not of their minds, who desire that all humane learning in Arts and Naturall Philosophie should be reserved under locke and key of straunge language, without the which no other man should have accesse unto it: for as such knowledge is a braunch of that excellencie wherein man was formed, so the repaire thereof (though it be not the chiefe) is yet a thing unworthily neglected, as well in regard of our owne comfort therein gained, as for the glorie of God thereby promoted. And it was the wisdome and provident hand of the All-sufficient, so to guide the wise heathen in Arts and Nature, that they should publish such their skill unto their countreymen in mother tongue: partly to correct the rudeneße which is in ignorance, and in part to leave them the more inexcusable: In which regard, they may in some sort be called, The Prophets and Teachers of the heathen. And though Plinie and the rest were not able by natures light to search so far as to find out the God of Nature, who sitteth in the glorie of light which none attaineth, but contrariwise in the vanitie of their imagination bewrayed the ignorance of foolish hearts, some doting upon Nature her selfe, and others upon speciall creatures, as their God: yet feare we not that Christians, in so cleare light, should be so farre bewitched by such blind teachers, as to fall before those heathen idols. Yea, though some of them (as namely Plinie) have spoken dishonourably of the only true God and of his providence, because they knew him not; which speeches (if it might stand with the laws of Translation) I could wish were utterly omitted; yet may wee hope that Christian men so long taught by the light of grace out of the holy word of God, will no lesse therefore give him his deserved honour, than when they doe in like sort heare the blasphemies of Sanneherib king of Ashur, who sent to raile upon the living God. I feare not the corrupting of unstable minds anything so much by these foolish Gentiles which are without, as by the deceitfull spirit of error speaking in the mouth of men within: such I meane as are within the bosome of the Church. These are the foxes by whom we feare the spoile of the Lords vines when as the grapes first begin to cluster; for whose taking I desire that all Gods husbandmen would bee more carefull. As for the speeches of these blind heathen, the true Christian may well thereby be provoked to extoll the mercie of God, who sitteth in so glorious a light as hath dasled the sharpest sight of Nature; but for our comfort hath put a vaile upon his glorie, and by his grace hath so cleared the eye of our understanding, that wee might see his face in his beloved, and know him to be the only true God, and his blessed providence upon all his creatures. And when they shall perceive that the wisest clearke in naturall skill could not learne by the booke of heaven and earth to know their maker, whose glorie they declare, and handiworks set out;  nor who it was that framed Nature, when by his word he first created them in such excellencie, and then, by his bleßing gave, and by his providence working in all, doth yet maintaine such an operative power, as by the which they are still continued in their kinds: nor how it came to passe that Nature lost her excellence in all creatures, and her power unto good was not only weakened (whence we see her faile in many of her purposes) but also perverted unto evill; then (I say) they will the more be stirred up by Gods grace to make reverent account of the holy Scriptures, which God in rich mercie8 hath given to them to be a light in all things for to direct them through the errors in Natures blindneße, and to bring them to the heavenly Ierusalem and happie world of all: he holie where he dwelleth, whome they worship in unitie and trinitie. Proceed then my beloved friend to bring unto the birth your second labour; whereof I pray that God may have honour in the praise of his works throughout nature, and wish you comfort in good acceptance with the reader, and your countrie use and pleasure in the skill thereof. Vnto him which onely hath immortalitie and dwelleth in that light which none attaineth, to God only wise be all honour and glorie. Iunij xij. 1601.

Your loving friend in the Lord,

H. F.

  [NOTES:
1.  Tit. 1

2. Rom. 1.

3. 2 Reg. 18.

4. Cant. 3.

5. Psal. 19. Rom. 1.

6. Gen. 1.

7. Gen. 3. Rom. 8.

8. Psal. 199. & 147. ]

THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE
HISTORIE OF NATVRE, WRITTEN
BY C. PLINIVS SECVNDVS.

The Preface or Epistle Dedicatorie to Prince Vespasian1, his [freind]
C. Plinius Secundus sendeth greeting.

These books containing the Historie of Nature, which a few daies since I brought to light (a new work in Latin, and namely among the Romanes, your citizens and countrimen) I purpose by this Epistle of mine to present and consecrate unto you, most sweet and gentle Prince [for this title2 accordeth fittest unto you, seeing that the name of [Most mightie3] sorteth well with the age of that Emperor your father:] which haply might seeme boldnesse and presumption in me, but that I know how at other times you were wont to have some good opinion of my toies and fooleries.4 Where, by the way, you must give me leave to mollifie a little the verses which I borrow of my countriman Catullus. (See also how I light upon a word5 used among soldiors, which you are acquainted with, since time we served both together in the camp:) For he as you wot full well, changing the former sillables of his verses one for another,{6} made himselfe somewhat more harsh than he would seeme to be unto the fine ears of his familiar friends, the Veranioli & Fabulli. And withall, I would be thought by this my malapart writing unto you, to satisfie one point, which, as you complained in your answer of late to another rude & audacious letter of mine, I had not performed, to wit, That all the world might see (as it were upon record) how the Empire is managed by you and your father equally: and notwithstanding this imperiall maiestie wherunto you are called, yet is your affabilitie and maner of conversing with your old friends, fellow-like, & the same that alwaies heretofore it had been. For albeit you have triumphed with him for your noble victories, ben Censor in your time, and Consull six times,7 executed the sacred authoritie of the Tribunes, patrones, and protectors of the Commons of Rome, together with him; albeit I say you have otherwise shewed your noble heart in honouring and gracing both the court of the Emperor your father, and also the whole state of Knights and Gentlemen of Rome, whiles you were captaine of the guard, and Grand master of his house and roiall pallace (in which places all, you carried your selfe respectively to the good of the Commonweale) yet to all your friends, and especially to my selfe, you have borne the same colours, and lodged together in one pavilion. So as in all this greatnesse and high estate whereunto you are mounted, there is no other change and alteration seen in your person but this, That your power is now answerable to your will, & able you are to do and performe that good which you ever meant, and still intend.

And howsoever this great maiestie, resplendent in you on every side, in regard of those high dignities above rehearsed, may induce the whole world besides to reverence your person in all obeisance, yet I for my part am armed onely with a kind of audacitie and confidence to shew my dutie and devoire unto you, after a more familiar manner than others: and therfore, this my adventurous rashnes, whatsoever, you must impute unto your own courtesie; and if I chaunce to fault therein, thanke your selfe therefore, and seeke pardon at your own hands. Well, bashfulnesse I have laid aside, and put on a bold face, and all to no purpose. For why? although your gentlenesse and humanitie be one way attractive and induceth me to draw neare unto your presence, yet another way you appear in great maiestie: the sublimitie I say of your mind, your deepe reach, high conceit, and rare perfections, set me as far back: no lictors & huishers marching before you, so much, that I dare not approch. In the first place: Was there ever any man, whose words passed from him more powerfull, & who more truly might be said to flash forth as lightning the force of eloquence? What Tribune was there known at any time to persuade & move the people with good language, more effectually? How admirable was your utterance in those publick Orations, wherin you thundered out the praise-worthie acts of the Emperor your father, that all the grand-place rung therwith? What a singular testimonie he shewed you of rare kindnesse & affection to your brother, in setting out his praises to the full? as for your skill in Poetrie, how excellent, how accomplished is it. Oh the bountie of your mind! Oh the fertilitie of your pregnant spirit! that you should find means to imitat, yea and to match your brother8 in that kind. But who is able boldly to give an estimat of these gifts to their worth? How may a man enter into the due consideration therof, without feare of the exquisit censure and exact iudgement of your wit, especially being provoked and challenged therunto as you are. For to say a truth, the ease of them who publish a worke in generall tearmes, is far unlike to theirs that will seeme to dedicat it particularly, and by name, to a prince so iudicious as your selfe. For had I set forth this my booke simply, & staied there without any personall dedication, the[n] I might have come upon you and said, Sir, what should a mightie Commander and Generall of the field as you are, busie himselfe to read such matters? written these treatises were to the capacitie of the vulgar people, for base commons, rude husbandmen, and peasants of the countrie, for poor artisans, and in one word, to gratifie them who had no other means of great emploiment, nor time & leasure but to studie upon such points and nothing els: What should you make your selfe a censor of this worke? And verely, when I made first shew of this enterprise of mine, I never reckned you in the number of those iudges that should passe their sentence upon these writings; I wist full well that you were a greater person far, & I supposed that you would never abase your selfe nor stoupe so low as to read this book of mine. Over and besides, a common case it is, and incident to men of deepe learning and great conceit, that otherwhiles exception may be taken against them, and their iudgement reiected in this behalfe. Even M. Tullius that renoumed Orator, and who for wit and learning had not his fellow, taking the vantage of that libertie, useth the benefit therof: and (whereat we may well marvell) maintaineth the action by an advocat, and taketh example (for his defence) from Lucilius: for in one part of his workes thus hee saith, I would not have learned Persius to read these bookes of mine, loth I am that he should censure me. As for Lælius Decimus, I am content to submit them to his opinion. Now if such an one as Lucilius, who was the first that durst controule the writings of others, and tooke upon him to scoffe at their imperfections, had reason thus to say; if Cicero took occasion to borrow the said speech of him for to serve his own turne, and namely in his Treatise of Politiques, where he wrote of a Commonweale, how much greater cause have I to distrust my selfe, and to decline & avoid the censure of some iudge of deepe understanding? But cut I am from this refuge and meanes of defence, in that I expressely make choise of you in this dedication of my worke: for one thing it is to have a iudge, either pricked by pluralitie of voices, or cast upon a man by drawing lots; and a farre other thing to chuse and nominat him from all others: and great difference is there betweene that cheare and provision which we make for a guest solemnely bidden and invited, and the suddaine fare and intertainement which is readie for a stranger who commeth to our house unlooked for. Cato, that professed enemie of ambition, vainglorie, and indirect suit for offices, who took as great contentment in those estates and dignities which he refused and reiected, as in them which he enioied, attained to this good name of uprightnesse and synceritie, that when in the hotest broile about election of Magistrats that ever was in his time, they that stood therfore, put into this hands their mony upon trust, as a cautionarie pawne and assurance of their integritie and fidelitie that way; they professed that they did it in testimonie of their conceit of his equitie and innocence, the cheefe and onely thing that a man is to regard in this life: wherupon ensued that noble and memorable and exclamation of M. Cicero, who speaking of the said Cato, brake out into these words: Oh gentle M. Portius, how happie and blessed art thou, whom no man was ever so hardie as to sollicite to any leaud thing, or contrary to right and honestie! L. Scipio, surnamed Asiaticus, at what time as he appealed unto the Tribunes of the Commons, and besought their lawfull favour (among whome, C. Gracchus was one, a man whom he tooke for his mortall enemie) presuming upon the goodnesse of his cause, gave out and said, That his verie enemies, if they were his iudges, could not chuse but quit him and give sentence on his side. Thus wee see how everie man maketh him peremptorily the supreme and highest iudge of his cause, whom himselfe chuseth and appealeth unto: which manner of choise the Latines call Provocatio. As for your selfe verely, who are set in the most eminent & cheefe place among men, & otherwise endued with singular eloquence and profound knowledge, no marvell is it, if those that doe their dutie unto you, salute you, kisse your hand, and come with great respect and reverence: In which regard, exceeding care above all things would be had, that whatsoever is said or dedicated unto you, may beseem your person, & be worth acceptation. And yet the gods reiect not the humble praiers of poore countrey peasants, yea, and of manie nations, who offer nothing but milke unto them: and such as have no Incense, find grace and favour manie times with the oblation of a plaine cake made onely of meale and salt; and never was anie man blamed yet for his devotion to the gods, so he offered according to his abilite, were the thing never so simple.

For mine own part, challenged I may be more still for this my importune and inconsiderat boldnesse, in that I would seeme to present these bookes unto you, compiled of so slender stuffe & matter as they be: for therin can be couched no great wit (which otherwise in me was ever mean and simple) neither admit they any digressions, orations, speeches, and discourses, ne yet admirable cases & variable chaunces, nor any other occurrent, either pleasant to rehearse, or delectable to hear. The truth is, the nature of all things in this world, that is to say, matters concerning our daily and ordinary life, are here deciphered & declared, and that in barrain tearms, without any goodly shew of gay and glorious phrases: and whatsoever I have put down, concerne it doth the basest points therof, insomuch as for the most part I am to deliver the thing in hand, either in rusticall speech, or els in forrain, nay, in barbarous language, such also as may not well be uttered, but with reserving honour to the hearers, and reverence to the readers.

Moreover, the way that I have entred into, hath not ben troden beforetime by other writers, being indeed so strange & uncouth, as a mans mind would not willingly travell therin. No Latin author among us hath hitherto once ventured upon the same argument, no one Grecian whatsoever hath gone through it and handled all: and no marvell, for many of us love not to take any pains, but study rather to pen matters of delight and pleasure. True it is, I must needs say, that others have made profession hereof, but they have done it with such subtiltie and deepnesse, that all their travels and writings by that means, lie as it were dead and buried in darknesse. Now come I, & take upon me to speake of every thing, and to gather as it weere a compleat body of arts and sciences (which the Greeks call ejgkuklapaideivoV) that are either altogether unknown or become doubtful, through the overmuch curiositie of fine wits: again, other matters are deciphered in such long discourses, that they are tedious to the readers, insomuch as they loath and abhor them. A difficult enterprise it is therfore to make old stuffe new, to give authoritie & credit to novelties, to polish and smooth that which is worne and out of use, to set a glosse & lustre upon that which is dim and dark, to grace & countenance things disdained, to procure beleef to matters doubtfull, & in one word, to reduce nature to all, and all to their own nature. And verely to give the attempt only & shew a desire to effect such a desseigne as this, although the same be not brought about and compassed, were a brave and magnificent enterprise. Certes of this spirit am I, that those learned men & great students, who making no stay but breaking through all difficulties, have preferred the profit of posterity before the tickling and pleasure of itching ears in these daies; which I may protest that I have aimed at, not in this worke only, but also in other of my books alreadie: and I professe, that I wonder much at T. Livius, otherwise a most renowned & famous writer, who in a preface to one of his books of the Roman historie which he cõpiled from the foundation of Rome, thus protested, That he had gotten glorie ynough by his former writing, and might sit still now & take his ease, but that his mind was so restlesse and so ill could abide repose, that contrariwise it was fed and nourished with travell & nothing els. But surely me thinks, in finishing those Chronicles, he should in dutie have respected the glory of that people which had conquered the world and advanced the honour of the Romane name, rather than displaied his owne praise and commendation: Ywis, his demerit had been the greater, to have continued his storie as he did, for love of the subject matter, and not for his privat pleasure; to have I say performed that peece of work more to gratifie the state of Rome, than to content his owne mind and afffection. As touching my selfe (forasmuch as Domitius Piso saith, That bookes ought to be treasuries 9 & store-houses indeed, and not bare & simple writings) I may be bold to say and averr, That in 36 Books I have comprised 20000 things, all worthie of regard & consideration, which I have collected out of 2000 volumes or therabout, that I have diligently read (and yet verie few of them there be that men learned otherwise, and studious, dare meddle withall, for the deepe matter and hidden secrets therein contained) and those written by 100 severall elect and approved authors: besides a world of other matters, which either were unknown to our forefathers and former writers, or els afterwards invented by their posteritie. And yet I nothing doubt but many things there be, which either surpasse our knowledge, or els our memorie hath overslipt: for men we are, & men emploied in many affairs. Moreover, considered it would be, that these studies we follow at vacant times and stolne hours, that is to say, by night season onely; to the end that you may know, how wee to accomplish this, have neglected no time which was due unto your service: The daies wholly employ & spend in attendance upon your person; we sleepe only to satisfie nature, even as much as our health requireth, and no more; contenting our selves with this reward, That whiles we studie and muse (as Varro saith) upon these things in our closet, we gaine so many hours to our life; for surely we live then onely, when wee watch and be awake. Considering now those occasions, those lets and hinderances above-named, I had no reason to presume or promise much; but in that you have emboldened me to dedicat my books unto you, your selfe perfourmeth whatsoever in me is wanting: not that I trust upon the goodnesse and worth of the worke, so much, as that by this means it will be better esteemed and shew more vendible: for many things there be that seeme right deare & be holden for pretious, only because they are consecrated to some sacred temples.

As for us verely, we have written of you all, your father Vespasian, your selfe, and your brother Domitian, in a large volume which we compiled touching the historie of our times, beginning there where Aufidius Bassus ended. Now if you demand & aske me, Where that historie is? I answer, That finished it was long since, and by this time is iustified and approved true by your deeds: otherwise I was determined to leave it unto my heire, & give order that it should be published after my death, least in my life time I might have ben thought to have curried favor of those, whose acts I seemed to pen with flatterie, & beyond all truth. And therfore in this action I do both them a great favour who haply were minded before me to put forth the like Chronicle, and the posteritie also which shall come after; who, I make reckning & know, will enter into the lists with us, like as we have done with our predecessors. A sufficient argument of this my good mind & frank hart that way you shal have by this, That in the front of these books now in hand, I have set down the verie names of those writers, whose help I have used in tthe compiling of the[m]: for I have ever ben of this opinion, That it is the part of an honest minded ma[n] & one that is full grace & modesty, to confesse frankly by whõ he hath profited & gotten any good: not as many of those unthankful persons have done, whõ I have alledged for my authors. For to tell you a plaine truth, know thus much frõ me, that in cõferring the[m] togither about this work of mine, I have met with some of our modern writers, who word for word have exe[m]plified & copied out whole books of old authors, & never vouchsafed so much as the naming of them, but have taken their labors & travels to themselves. And this they have not done in that courage and spirit to imitate, yea and to match them as Virgil did Homer: much lesse have tthey shewed that simplicitie & apert proceeding of Cicero, who in his books of Pollicie and Common-weale professeth himselfe to hold with Plato; in his Consolatorie Epistle written to his daughter, confesseth and saith plainly thus, I follow Crantor, & Panætius likewise in his Treatise concerning Offices. Which worthie monuments of his (as you know well) deserve not onely to be seene, handled, and read daily, but also to be learned by heart everie word. Certes, I hold it for a point of a base and servile mind, and wherein there is no goodnesse at all, to chuse rather to be surprised and taken in theft, than to bring home borrowed good, or to repay a due debt, especially when the occupying, use, and interest thereof, hath gained a man as much as the principall.

Now as touching the titles and inscriptions of Bookes, the Greeks therein have a woonderfull grace and great felicitie: some have entituled them Khrivon, whereby they would give us to understand of A swet hony-combe:10 others KhvraV AmalqeivV11 that is to say, The horne of plentie and store: in such sort, that whosoever readeth these goodly titles, must needs hope for some great matters in such books, and as the proverb goeth, looke to drinke there or els no where, a good draught of hens milke. You shall have moreover their books set out with these glorious inscriptions, The Muses, The Pandects,12 Enchiridion,13 Leimw;n,14 Pinakivdion:15 Goodly names all, & such, as who would not make default of appearance in court, and forfeit a recognisance or obligation, to unclaspe such books and turne over the leafe? But let a man enter into them and read forward, Lord! how little or no substance at all shall he find within the verie minds, answerable to that brave shew in the front or outside thereof? As for our countreymen (Latines I meane and Romans) they be nothing so fine and curious as the Greeks, grosse are they in comparison of them in giving titles to their books: they come with their Antiquities, Examples, and Arts, and those also be such authors as are the most pleasant and of finest invention amongst them all. Valerius who (as I take it) was named Antias, both for that he was a citizen of Antium, and also because the auncestours of his house were so called, was the first that gave to a booke of his own making, the title of Lucubratio, as a man would say, Candle-worke or Night-Studie. Varro, he tearmeth some of his Satyres Sesculyxes and Flexibulæ. Diodorus among the Greeks was the first that laid aside toyish titles, and because he would give some grave name to his Chronicles, entituled it Bibliotheca, i. a Librarie. Apion the famous Grammarian, even he whome Tiberius Cæsar called the Cymball of the world (whereas indeed he deserved to be named a Timbrell or Drum rather for ringing and sounding publicke fame) was so vainglorious, that he supposed all those immortalized unto whom he wrote or composed any pamphlet whatsoever. For mine owne part, although I nothing repent me that I have devised no pretier Title for my Booke than plaine Naturalis Historia, i. The reports of Nature, without more ceremonie, yet because I would not be thought altogither to course and rate the Greeks, I can be content, nay I am willing to bee thought in this behalfe like unto those excellent grand-masters in Greece for Painting and Imagerie, whome you shall find in these Reports of mine, to have entituled those rare and absolute peeces of worke (which the more we view and looke upon, the more wee admire and wonder at for their perfection) with halfe titles and unperfect inscriptions, in this manner, Apelles16 went in hand with this Picture: or, Polycletus was a making this Image: as if they were but begun, never finished and laid out of their hands: which was done (no doubt) to this end, that for all the varietie and diversitie of mens iudgements scanning of their workemanship, yet the artificer thereby had recourse to make excuse; had means (I say) to crave and have pardon for any faults and imperfections that could be found; as if he meant to have amended any thing therein amisse or wanting, in case hee had not beeen cut off and prevented by death. These noble workemen therfore herein shewed right great modestie, that they set superscriptions upon all their painted tables, pourtraitures, and personages, as if they had been the last peeces of their workmanship, and themselves disabled by unexpected death that they could not make a finall end of any one of them: for there were not knowne (as I take it) above three in all, which had their absolute titles written upon them in this forme, Ille fecit, i. This Apelles wrought: & those Pictures will I write of in place convenient. By which it appeared evidently, that the said three tables were fully finished, and that the workeman was so highly contented with their perfection, that he feared the censure of no man: No marveile then, if all three were so much envied and admired throughout the world, no marveile if everie man desired to be master of them.

Now for my selfe, I know full well & confesse freely, that many more things may be added, not to this storie alone, but to all my books that I have put forth alreadie: which I speake by the way, because I would prevent and avoid those fault-finders abroad, those correctors and scourgers17 of Homer, (for surely that is their verie name) because I heare say there be certain Stoike Philosophers, professed Logicians, yea and Epicureans also (for at Grammarians hands and Criticks I never looked for other) who are with child still and travaile untill they be delivered of somewhat against my books which I have set forth as touching Grammer: and for this ten yeers space, nothing is come to light, but evermore the fruit miscarrieth belike before the full time, as the slip of an unperfect birth; whereas in lesse space than so, the verie Elephant bringeth foorth her calfe, be it never so big. But this troubleth me never a whit, for I am not ignorant that a silly woman, even a harlot and no better, durst encounter Theophrastus and write a booke against him, notwithstanding hee was a man of so incomparable eloquence that thereupon he came by his divine name Theophrastus: from whence arose this proverbe and by-word,18 Marie then go chuse a tree to hang thy selfe. And surely I cannot containe and hold my tongue, but I must needs set downe the verie words of Cato Censorius, so pertinent to this purpose; whereby it may appeare, that even Cato himselfe a most worthie personage, who wrote of militarie Discipline, who had been brought up and trained to feats of warre under Great Scipio Africanus, or rather indeed under Anniball, who in the end could not endure Africanus himselfe, but was able to controll him in martiall affaires: and who besides having the conduct as L. Generall of the Romane armie, atchieved the better hand over his enemies in the field, and returned with victory: this Cato (I say) could not avoid such backbiters and slaunderers, but knowing that there would bee many of them readie to purchase themselves some name and reputation by reproving the knowledge and skill of others, brake out into a certain speech against them: And what was it? I know right well (quoth he, in that booke aforesaid) that if these writings of mine come abroad once and be published to the view of the world, there will be many step foorth to quarrell and cavill therwith; such fellows soonest and most of all who are quite void of vertue and honestie, and know not what belongeth to true honour. But surely say what they will, I let their words run by, like raine water. It was a prettie speech also and a pleasant apothegme, that Plancus uttered in the semblable case: for beeing informed that Asinus Pollio was devising and framing certaine invective Orations against him, which should be set foorth either by himselfe or his children, after the decease of Plancus and not before, to the end that they might not be answered by him; hee said readily by way of a scoffe, That none but vaine bugs & hobgoblins use to fight with the dead: with which word he gave those orations such a counterbuffe, that (by the iudgement of the learned) none were accounted afterward more impudent and shamelesse than they. For mine own part, being sure that these busie bodies shall never be able to bite me (and verely Cato hath given such fellows a proper name, and called them Virilitgatores, by a tearme elegantly compounded of vices and quarrels: for to say a truth, what did they else but picke quarels and make brawls?) I will proceed and goe on still in my intended purpose.

Now to conclude and knit up mine Epistle: Knowing as I doe, that for the good of the Commonweale, you should be spared and not empeached by any privat business of your owne, and namely in perusing these long volumes of mine; to prevent this trouble therefore, I have adioyned immediatly to this Epistle and prefixed before these books, the Summarie or Contents of everie one: and verie carefully have I endeavoured, that you should not need to read them throughout, whereby all others also after your example, may ease themselves of the like labour: and as any man is desirous to know this or that, he may seeke and readily find in what place to meet with the same. This learned I of Valerius Sorranus one of our owne Latin writers, who hath done the like before me and set an Index to those Books which he entituled Epoptivdwn.
The Historie of the World.

Commonly called,

THE NATURALL HISTORIE OF
C. PLINIUS SECUNDUS.

Translated into English by PHILEMON HOLLAND
Doctor in Physic.

1601

The Contents

The Dedicatory Letter P. i (unnumbered)
The Preface to the Reader PP. ii-vii (unnumbered)
Errata P. viii (unnumbered)
Plinies Epistle to T. Vespasian PP. ix-xvi (unnumbered)
Book I (Pliny's table of contents) PP. 1- (unnumbered)
Book II (The earth in general: weather, astronomy, the size of the earth and its nature.) PP. 1-49
Book III (Geography: Europe.) PP. 50-71
Book VII (The nature of man: length of life, time of gestation, biggest, smallest, life and death, inventions, and many and sundry stories.) PP. 152-191
Book VIII (Terrestrial beasts other than man: elephants, bears, tigers, lions, snails, mice, rats, dormice, along with the more fabulous basilisks and so on.) PP. 192-234
Book IX (Fishes and aquatic animals and their productions: mice of the Nile, pearls, purple, land-fish, lobsters, octopodes, squids, pike, oysters, and shrimp. And so on.) PP. 234-270
Book X (Birds, with digressions on fertility, modes of reproduction, the enmities and friendships of animals one for the other, whether animals sleep and dream, and animal senses. And a few tirades on luxurious diet.) PP. 270-309
Book XI (Insects, supposedly, although they occupy less than half of a very long book; the remainder is parts of animals (necks and gizzards and arms, that is), more asides on diet, and stories about the names of Romans.) PP. 310-356
 

The Preface to the Reader.

Happie were they in they in times past reputed (and not unworthily) who had that gratious and heavenly gift, aut facere scribenda, aut scribere legenda: that is to say, either to doe such things as deserved to be written, or to write that which was worth the reading. Those that could not attaine to these two braunches of felicitie, and yet utterly misliked idlenes, contented themselves in a third degree, namely, to take in hand the old works of their auncients, and by new labours to immortalize their memorie. Thus Nicophantes (a famous painter in his time) gave his mind wholly to antique pictures, partly to exemplifie and take out their patternes after that in long continuance of time they were decaied; and in part to repaire and reforme the same, if haply by some iniurious accident they were defaced. The ingenuous mind of this artizan thus devoted to antiquitie, as I doe highly commend; so I cannot chuse but embrace his pollicie, seeking hereby to avoid the envie and reproofe of others. In this number I must raunge those learned men in severall ages, who to illustrat the monuments left by former writers, have annexed unto them their Commentaries; to save them entire and uncorrupt, have set thereto iudiciall observations; and to publish them for a generall benefit of posteritie, have translated the same into their mother language. As for my selfe, since it is neither my hap nor hope to attaine to such perfection, as to bring foorth somewhat of mine owne which may quit the pains of a reader, and much lesse to performe any action that might minister matter to a writer, and yet so farre bound unto my native countrey and the blessed state wherein I have lived, as to render an account of my yeers passed & studies employed, during this long time of peace and tranquilitie, wherein (under the most gratious and happie government of a peerelesse Princesse, assisted with so prudent, politique, and learned Counsell) all good literature hath had free progresse and flourished, in no age so much: me thought I owed this dutie, to leave for my part also (after many others) some small memoriall, that might give testimonie another day what fruits generally this peaceable age of our hath produced. Endeavoured I have therefore to stand in this third ranke, and bestowed those hours which might be spared from the practice of my profession, and the necessarie cares of this life, to satisife my countreymen now living, and to graitife the age ensuing, in this kind. Like as therefore I have travailed in Titus Livius a renowned Historiographer, so I have proceeded to deale with Plinius Secundus the elder, as famous a Philosopher. Now, albeit my intention and only scope was, to do a pleasure unto them that could not read these authours in the originall: yet needs I must confesse, that even my selfe have not only gained therby encrease of the Latine tongue (wherein these works were written) but also growne to farther knowledge of the matter and argument therein contained. For this benefit wee reape by studying the books of such auncient authours, That the oftener we read them over, the more still we find and learne in them, as beeing so iudiciously and pithily penned, that, as the Poet said verie well, decies repetita placerent. Well may the newest songs and last devised plaies delight our ears at the first, and for the present ravish our senses; like as horarie and early Summer fruits content our tast and please the appetit: but surely it is antiquitie that hath given grace, vigor, & strength to writings; even as age commendeth the most generous and best wines. In which regard, and upon this experience of mine owne, I nothing doubt but they also whome I might iustly feare as hard censours of these my labours, will not only pitie me for my pains, but also in some measure yeeld me thanks in the end, when either by the light of the English (if they bee young students) they shall be able more readily to goe away with the darke phrase and obscure construction of the Latine; or (being great schollers and taking themselves for deepe Criticks) by conferring the one with the other, haply to espie wherein I have tripped, they shall by that means peruse once againe, and consequently gather new profit out of that authour whom peradventure they had laid by for many yeers as sufficiently understood. When some benefit (I say) shall accrew unto them likewise by this occasion, I lesse dread their fearfull doome, to which so wilfully I have exposed my selfe. Well I wist, that among the Athenians, order was taken by law, That an enterlude newly acted should be heard with silence and applause: which custome, as it was respective and favourable to the first endeavors of the actours, so it implied an inevitable danger of hissing out and utter disgrace, if afterwards they chanced to misse and faile in their parts. Having shewed my selfe once before upon the stage, presuming upon this priviledge and the curtesie of the theatre, I might have now sitten still and so rested: In mounting up thus soon againe, I may seeme either in the assured confidence of mine owne worthinesse, to proclaime a challenge to all mens censures; or els upon a deepe conceit of some generall connivencie make reckning of an extraordinaire and wonderfull favour. But as the choise that I have made to publish the monuments of other men, without fathering any thing of mine owne, doth excuse and acquit me for the one; so the froward disposition of carpers in these daies wherein wee live, will checke the other. Howbeit, considering such pains undergone by me one man, for the pleasure of so many; so much time spent of mine, for gaining time to others; and some opportunities of privat lucre overslipt and lost, to win profit unto all; I feare not but these regards may deserve a friendly acceptance, & counterweigh all defects and faults escaped, whatsoever. The persuasion hereof, but principally the privitie of my affection at love unto my country (which assured me of a safe-conduct to passe peaceably through their hands who are of the better sort and well affected) induced me to a resolution not onely to enter upon this new taske, but also to breake through all difficulties, untill I had brought the same, if not to a full and absolute perfection, yet to an end and finall conclusion. Besides this naturall inclination & hope which carried me this way, other motives there were that made saile and set me forward. I saw how divers men before me had dealt with this authour, whiles some laboured to reforme whatsoever by iniurie of time was growne out of frame: others did their best to translate him into their own tongue, and namely, the Italian and French: moreover, the Title prefixed therto so univesall as it is, to wit, The Historie of the World, or Reports of Nature, imported (no doubt) that he first penned it for the generall good of mankind. Over and besides, the Argument ensuing full of varietie, furnished with discourses of all matters, not appropriate to the learned only, but accommodat to the rude paisant of the countrey; fitted for the painefull artizan in town and citie; pertinent to the bodily health of man, woman, and child; and in one woord, suiting with all sorts of people living in a societie and commonweale. To say nothing of the precedent given by the authour himselfe who endited the same, not with any affected phrase, but sorting well with the capacitie even of the meanest and most unlettered: who also translated a good part thereof out of the Greeke. What should I alledge the example of former times, wherein the like hath evermore been approved and practised? Why should any man therefore take offence hereat, and envie this good to his naturall countrey, which was first meant for the whole world? And yet some there be so grosse as to give out, That these and such like books ought not to be published in the vulgar tongue. It is a shame (quoth one) that Livie speaketh English as hee doth: Latinists onely are to bee acquainted with him: As who would say, the souldiour were to have recourse unto the universitie for militarie skill and knowledge; or the schollar to put on arms and pitch a campe. What should Plinie (saith another) bee read in English, and the mysteries couched in his books divulged: as if the husbandman, the mason, carpenter, goldsmith, painter, lapidarie, and engraver, with other artificers, were bound to seeke unto great clearks or linguists for instructions in their severall arts. Certes, such Momi as these, besides their blind and erroneous opinion, thinke not so honourably of their native countrey and mother tongue as they ought: who if they were so well affected that way as they should be, would wish rather and endeavour by all means to triumph now over the Romans in subduing their literature under the dent of the English pen, in requitall of the conquest sometime over this Island, atchieved by the edge of their sword. As for our speech, was not Latine as common and naturall in Italie, as English here with us. And if Plinie faulted not but deserved well of the Romane name, in laying abroad the riches and hidden treasures of Nature, in that Dialect or Idiome which was familiar to the basest clowne: why should any man be blamed for enterprising the semblable, to the commodotie of that countrey in which and for which he was borne. Are we the onely nation under heaven unworthie to tast of such knowledge? or is our language so barbarous, that it will not admit in proper tearms a forrein phrase? I honour them in my heart, who having of late daies troden the way before me in Plutarch, Tacitus, and others, have made good proofe, that as the tongue in an English mans head is framed so flexible and obsequent, that it can pronounce naturally any other language; so a pen in his hand is able sufficiently to expresse Greeke, Latine, and Hebrew. And my hope is, that after mee there will arise some industrious Flavij who may at length cornicum oculos configere. For if my selfe, a man by profession otherwise carried away, for gifts farre inferiour to many, and wanting such helps as others be furnished with, have in some sort taught those to speake English who were supposed verie untoward to bee brought unto it; what may be expected at their hands, who for leisure may attend better; in wit are more pregnant; and beeing graced with the opinion of men and favour of the time, may attempt what they will, and effect whatsoever they attempt with greater felicity? A painfull and tedious travaile I confesse it is; neither make I doubt but many do note me for much follie in spending time herein, and neglecting some compendious course of gathering good and pursing up pence. But when I looke back to the example of Plinie, I must of necessitie condemne both mine own sloth, and also reprove the supine negligence of these daies. A courtiour he was, and a great favourit of the Vespasians both father and sonne: an oratour besides, and pleaded many causes at the barre: a martiall man withall, and served often times as a leader and commander in the field; within the cittie of Rome he managed civile affairs, and bare honourable offices of State. Who would not thinke but each one of these places would require a whole man? and yet amid these occasions wherwith he was possessed, he penned Chronicles, wrate Commentaries, compiled Grammatical treatises, and many other volumes which at this day are utterly lost. As for the Historie of Nature now in hand, which sheweth him to be an excellent Philosopher and a man accomplished in all kind of literature (the only monument of his that hath escaped all daungers, and as another Palladium been reserved entire unto out time) wherein hee hath discoursed of all things even from the starrie heaven to the centre of the earth; a man would marveile how hee could possily either write or doe any thing els. But considering the agilitie of mans spirit alwaies in motion; an ardent desire to benefit posteritie, which in these volumes hee hath so often protested; his indefatigable studie both day and night, even to the iniurie of nature, and the same continued in everie place, as well abroad as within-house; in his iourney upon the high way, where his manner was to read and to indite; in his ordinarie passage through the streets betweene court and home, where hee gave himselfe no rest, but either read, or els found his notarie worke to write; and for that purpose rode usually in an easie litter, with the said Notarie close by his side: lesse wonder it is, that he perfourmed his service to prince and state according to his calling: and withall delivered unto posteritie so many fruis of wit and learning. For what is not the head of man able to compasse? especially making saile with a fervent desire and resolution to see an end, and besides taking the vantage of all moments, and loosing no time, wherof he was unus omnium parcissimus. Touching his affection to search into the secrets of Nature, it was that and nothing els which shortened his daies, and hastened his untimely death: for having lived not much above the middle age of man, desirous he was to know the reason, Why the hill Vesuvius burned so as it did? and approched so neare, that with the strong vapours and smoke issuing from thence, his breath was sodainly stopped, and himselfe found dead in the place: a man worthie to have lived for ever. What remaineth now, but onely to recommend unto my countreymen this work of his (which for mine owne part I wish to be immortall) were it not for one scruple to bee cleared, which at the first troubled my selfe a little, and might peradventure otherwise offend some readers. In attributing so much unto Nature, Plinie seemeth to derogat from the almightie God, to him agnwsoV; and therefore daungerous (saith one) to be divulged. Farre be it from me, that I should publish any thing to corrupt mens manners, and much lesse to preiudice Christian religion. After conference therefore with sundrie divines about this point, whom for their authoritie I reverence; whose learning I honor and embrace, and in whom for iudgement & synceritie of religion I rest, confirmed I was in my first purpose, and resolved to finish that which I had begun, namely, not to defraud the world of so rich a gem, for one small blemish appearing therein. And that it may appeare how I did not abound in mine owne sense, but had regard as well to satisfie the conscience of others as mine owne, I have thought good to annex immediatly hereunto, in manner of a Corollarie, the opinion of one grave and learned preacher concerning this doubt, as it was delivered unto me in writing; which for that it is grounded upon sufficient reasons, and accordeth with the iudgement of the rest, the lesse I respect the rash projects of some fantasticall spirits: nothing doubting, but the same will settle the minds of the weake, and free my labours from the taint of irreligion.

leafThe copie of the said Letter, written as touching the
Translation of Plinie.

MY beloved, in twentie yeers and better so many tokens of our mutuall love passing betweene us, I need not now to professe my affections to your selfe; and my daily conversing with you, hath yeelded my approbation of your tedious labor in translating Plinie. These few lines therefore shall onely serve to witnesse unto others the deserved account which for your learning I have alwaies made of you, and my conceit of this your travaile in opening to your countrymen the treasurie of Nature: therein to see and to admire the wisdome, power, and the goodnesse of the only true God, the Framer of Nature. I am not of their minds, who desire that all humane learning in Arts and Naturall Philosophie should be reserved under locke and key of straunge language, without the which no other man should have accesse unto it: for as such knowledge is a braunch of that excellencie wherein man was formed, so the repaire thereof (though it be not the chiefe) is yet a thing unworthily neglected, as well in regard of our owne comfort therein gained, as for the glorie of God thereby promoted. And it was the wisdome and provident hand of the All-sufficient, so to guide the wise heathen in Arts and Nature, that they should publish such their skill unto their countreymen in mother tongue: partly to correct the rudeneße which is in ignorance, and in part to leave them the more inexcusable: In which regard, they may in some sort be called, The Prophets and Teachers of the heathen.1 And though Plinie and the rest were not able by natures light to search so far as to find out the God of Nature, who sitteth in the glorie of light which none attaineth, but contrariwise in the vanitie of their imagination bewrayed the ignorance of foolish hearts,2 some doting upon Nature her selfe, and others upon speciall creatures, as their God: yet feare we not that Christians, in so cleare light, should be so farre bewitched by such blind teachers, as to fall before those heathen idols. Yea, though some of them (as namely Plinie) have spoken dishonourably of the only true God and of his providence, because they knew him not; which speeches (if it might stand with the laws of Translation) I could wish were utterly omitted; yet may wee hope that Christian men so long taught by the light of grace out of the holy word of God, will no lesse therefore give him his deserved honour, than when they doe in like sort heare the blasphemies of Sanneherib king of Ashur,3 who sent to raile upon the living God. I feare not the corrupting of unstable minds anything so much by these foolish Gentiles which are without, as by the deceitfull spirit of error speaking in the mouth of men within: such I meane as are within the bosome of the Church. These are the foxes4 by whom we feare the spoile of the Lords vines when as the grapes first begin to cluster; for whose taking I desire that all Gods husbandmen would bee more carefull. As for the speeches of these blind heathen, the true Christian may well thereby be provoked to extoll the mercie of God, who sitteth in so glorious a light as hath dasled the sharpest sight of Nature; but for our comfort hath put a vaile upon his glorie, and by his grace hath so cleared the eye of our understanding, that wee might see his face in his beloved, and know him to be the only true God, and his blessed providence upon all his creatures. And when they shall perceive that the wisest clearke in naturall skill could not learne by the booke of heaven and earth to know their maker, whose glorie they declare, and handiworks set out;5 nor who it was that framed Nature, when by his word he first created them in such excellencie,6 and then, by his bleßing gave, and by his providence working in all, doth yet maintaine such an operative power, as by the which they are still continued in their kinds: nor how it came to passe that Nature lost her excellence in all creatures,7 and her power unto good was not only weakened (whence we see her faile in many of her purposes) but also perverted unto evill; then (I say) they will the more be stirred up by Gods grace to make reverent account of the holy Scriptures, which God in rich mercie8 hath given to them to be a light in all things for to direct them through the errors in Natures blindneße, and to bring them to the heavenly Ierusalem and happie world of all: he holie where he dwelleth, whome they worship in unitie and trinitie. Proceed then my beloved friend to bring unto the birth your second labour; whereof I pray that God may have honour in the praise of his works throughout nature, and wish you comfort in good acceptance with the reader, and your countrie use and pleasure in the skill thereof. Vnto him which onely hath immortalitie and dwelleth in that light which none attaineth, to God only wise be all honour and glorie. Iunij xij. 1601.

Your loving friend in the Lord,

H. F.

  [NOTES:
1.  Tit. 1

2. Rom. 1.

3. 2 Reg. 18.

4. Cant. 3.

5. Psal. 19. Rom. 1.

6. Gen. 1.

7. Gen. 3. Rom. 8.

8. Psal. 199. & 147. ]

THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE
HISTORIE OF NATVRE, WRITTEN
BY C. PLINIVS SECVNDVS.

The Preface or Epistle Dedicatorie to Prince Vespasian1, his [freind]
C. Plinius Secundus sendeth greeting.

These books containing the Historie of Nature, which a few daies since I brought to light (a new work in Latin, and namely among the Romanes, your citizens and countrimen) I purpose by this Epistle of mine to present and consecrate unto you, most sweet and gentle Prince [for this title2 accordeth fittest unto you, seeing that the name of [Most mightie3] sorteth well with the age of that Emperor your father:] which haply might seeme boldnesse and presumption in me, but that I know how at other times you were wont to have some good opinion of my toies and fooleries.4 Where, by the way, you must give me leave to mollifie a little the verses which I borrow of my countriman Catullus. (See also how I light upon a word5 used among soldiors, which you are acquainted with, since time we served both together in the camp:) For he as you wot full well, changing the former sillables of his verses one for another,{6} made himselfe somewhat more harsh than he would seeme to be unto the fine ears of his familiar friends, the Veranioli & Fabulli. And withall, I would be thought by this my malapart writing unto you, to satisfie one point, which, as you complained in your answer of late to another rude & audacious letter of mine, I had not performed, to wit, That all the world might see (as it were upon record) how the Empire is managed by you and your father equally: and notwithstanding this imperiall maiestie wherunto you are called, yet is your affabilitie and maner of conversing with your old friends, fellow-like, & the same that alwaies heretofore it had been. For albeit you have triumphed with him for your noble victories, ben Censor in your time, and Consull six times,7 executed the sacred authoritie of the Tribunes, patrones, and protectors of the Commons of Rome, together with him; albeit I say you have otherwise shewed your noble heart in honouring and gracing both the court of the Emperor your father, and also the whole state of Knights and Gentlemen of Rome, whiles you were captaine of the guard, and Grand master of his house and roiall pallace (in which places all, you carried your selfe respectively to the good of the Commonweale) yet to all your friends, and especially to my selfe, you have borne the same colours, and lodged together in one pavilion. So as in all this greatnesse and high estate whereunto you are mounted, there is no other change and alteration seen in your person but this, That your power is now answerable to your will, & able you are to do and performe that good which you ever meant, and still intend.

And howsoever this great maiestie, resplendent in you on every side, in regard of those high dignities above rehearsed, may induce the whole world besides to reverence your person in all obeisance, yet I for my part am armed onely with a kind of audacitie and confidence to shew my dutie and devoire unto you, after a more familiar manner than others: and therfore, this my adventurous rashnes, whatsoever, you must impute unto your own courtesie; and if I chaunce to fault therein, thanke your selfe therefore, and seeke pardon at your own hands. Well, bashfulnesse I have laid aside, and put on a bold face, and all to no purpose. For why? although your gentlenesse and humanitie be one way attractive and induceth me to draw neare unto your presence, yet another way you appear in great maiestie: the sublimitie I say of your mind, your deepe reach, high conceit, and rare perfections, set me as far back: no lictors & huishers marching before you, so much, that I dare not approch. In the first place: Was there ever any man, whose words passed from him more powerfull, & who more truly might be said to flash forth as lightning the force of eloquence? What Tribune was there known at any time to persuade & move the people with good language, more effectually? How admirable was your utterance in those publick Orations, wherin you thundered out the praise-worthie acts of the Emperor your father, that all the grand-place rung therwith? What a singular testimonie he shewed you of rare kindnesse & affection to your brother, in setting out his praises to the full? as for your skill in Poetrie, how excellent, how accomplished is it. Oh the bountie of your mind! Oh the fertilitie of your pregnant spirit! that you should find means to imitat, yea and to match your brother8 in that kind. But who is able boldly to give an estimat of these gifts to their worth? How may a man enter into the due consideration therof, without feare of the exquisit censure and exact iudgement of your wit, especially being provoked and challenged therunto as you are. For to say a truth, the ease of them who publish a worke in generall tearmes, is far unlike to theirs that will seeme to dedicat it particularly, and by name, to a prince so iudicious as your selfe. For had I set forth this my booke simply, & staied there without any personall dedication, the[n] I might have come upon you and said, Sir, what should a mightie Commander and Generall of the field as you are, busie himselfe to read such matters? written these treatises were to the capacitie of the vulgar people, for base commons, rude husbandmen, and peasants of the countrie, for poor artisans, and in one word, to gratifie them who had no other means of great emploiment, nor time & leasure but to studie upon such points and nothing els: What should you make your selfe a censor of this worke? And verely, when I made first shew of this enterprise of mine, I never reckned you in the number of those iudges that should passe their sentence upon these writings; I wist full well that you were a greater person far, & I supposed that you would never abase your selfe nor stoupe so low as to read this book of mine. Over and besides, a common case it is, and incident to men of deepe learning and great conceit, that otherwhiles exception may be taken against them, and their iudgement reiected in this behalfe. Even M. Tullius that renoumed Orator, and who for wit and learning had not his fellow, taking the vantage of that libertie, useth the benefit therof: and (whereat we may well marvell) maintaineth the action by an advocat, and taketh example (for his defence) from Lucilius: for in one part of his workes thus hee saith, I would not have learned Persius to read these bookes of mine, loth I am that he should censure me. As for Lælius Decimus, I am content to submit them to his opinion. Now if such an one as Lucilius, who was the first that durst controule the writings of others, and tooke upon him to scoffe at their imperfections, had reason thus to say; if Cicero took occasion to borrow the said speech of him for to serve his own turne, and namely in his Treatise of Politiques, where he wrote of a Commonweale, how much greater cause have I to distrust my selfe, and to decline & avoid the censure of some iudge of deepe understanding? But cut I am from this refuge and meanes of defence, in that I expressely make choise of you in this dedication of my worke: for one thing it is to have a iudge, either pricked by pluralitie of voices, or cast upon a man by drawing lots; and a farre other thing to chuse and nominat him from all others: and great difference is there betweene that cheare and provision which we make for a guest solemnely bidden and invited, and the suddaine fare and intertainement which is readie for a stranger who commeth to our house unlooked for. Cato, that professed enemie of ambition, vainglorie, and indirect suit for offices, who took as great contentment in those estates and dignities which he refused and reiected, as in them which he enioied, attained to this good name of uprightnesse and synceritie, that when in the hotest broile about election of Magistrats that ever was in his time, they that stood therfore, put into this hands their mony upon trust, as a cautionarie pawne and assurance of their integritie and fidelitie that way; they professed that they did it in testimonie of their conceit of his equitie and innocence, the cheefe and onely thing that a man is to regard in this life: wherupon ensued that noble and memorable and exclamation of M. Cicero, who speaking of the said Cato, brake out into these words: Oh gentle M. Portius, how happie and blessed art thou, whom no man was ever so hardie as to sollicite to any leaud thing, or contrary to right and honestie! L. Scipio, surnamed Asiaticus, at what time as he appealed unto the Tribunes of the Commons, and besought their lawfull favour (among whome, C. Gracchus was one, a man whom he tooke for his mortall enemie) presuming upon the goodnesse of his cause, gave out and said, That his verie enemies, if they were his iudges, could not chuse but quit him and give sentence on his side. Thus wee see how everie man maketh him peremptorily the supreme and highest iudge of his cause, whom himselfe chuseth and appealeth unto: which manner of choise the Latines call Provocatio. As for your selfe verely, who are set in the most eminent & cheefe place among men, & otherwise endued with singular eloquence and profound knowledge, no marvell is it, if those that doe their dutie unto you, salute you, kisse your hand, and come with great respect and reverence: In which regard, exceeding care above all things would be had, that whatsoever is said or dedicated unto you, may beseem your person, & be worth acceptation. And yet the gods reiect not the humble praiers of poore countrey peasants, yea, and of manie nations, who offer nothing but milke unto them: and such as have no Incense, find grace and favour manie times with the oblation of a plaine cake made onely of meale and salt; and never was anie man blamed yet for his devotion to the gods, so he offered according to his abilite, were the thing never so simple.

For mine own part, challenged I may be more still for this my importune and inconsiderat boldnesse, in that I would seeme to present these bookes unto you, compiled of so slender stuffe & matter as they be: for therin can be couched no great wit (which otherwise in me was ever mean and simple) neither admit they any digressions, orations, speeches, and discourses, ne yet admirable cases & variable chaunces, nor any other occurrent, either pleasant to rehearse, or delectable to hear. The truth is, the nature of all things in this world, that is to say, matters concerning our daily and ordinary life, are here deciphered & declared, and that in barrain tearms, without any goodly shew of gay and glorious phrases: and whatsoever I have put down, concerne it doth the basest points therof, insomuch as for the most part I am to deliver the thing in hand, either in rusticall speech, or els in forrain, nay, in barbarous language, such also as may not well be uttered, but with reserving honour to the hearers, and reverence to the readers.

Moreover, the way that I have entred into, hath not ben troden beforetime by other writers, being indeed so strange & uncouth, as a mans mind would not willingly travell therin. No Latin author among us hath hitherto once ventured upon the same argument, no one Grecian whatsoever hath gone through it and handled all: and no marvell, for many of us love not to take any pains, but study rather to pen matters of delight and pleasure. True it is, I must needs say, that others have made profession hereof, but they have done it with such subtiltie and deepnesse, that all their travels and writings by that means, lie as it were dead and buried in darknesse. Now come I, & take upon me to speake of every thing, and to gather as it weere a compleat body of arts and sciences (which the Greeks call ejgkuklapaideivoV) that are either altogether unknown or become doubtful, through the overmuch curiositie of fine wits: again, other matters are deciphered in such long discourses, that they are tedious to the readers, insomuch as they loath and abhor them. A difficult enterprise it is therfore to make old stuffe new, to give authoritie & credit to novelties, to polish and smooth that which is worne and out of use, to set a glosse & lustre upon that which is dim and dark, to grace & countenance things disdained, to procure beleef to matters doubtfull, & in one word, to reduce nature to all, and all to their own nature. And verely to give the attempt only & shew a desire to effect such a desseigne as this, although the same be not brought about and compassed, were a brave and magnificent enterprise. Certes of this spirit am I, that those learned men & great students, who making no stay but breaking through all difficulties, have preferred the profit of posterity before the tickling and pleasure of itching ears in these daies; which I may protest that I have aimed at, not in this worke only, but also in other of my books alreadie: and I professe, that I wonder much at T. Livius, otherwise a most renowned & famous writer, who in a preface to one of his books of the Roman historie which he cõpiled from the foundation of Rome, thus protested, That he had gotten glorie ynough by his former writing, and might sit still now & take his ease, but that his mind was so restlesse and so ill could abide repose, that contrariwise it was fed and nourished with travell & nothing els. But surely me thinks, in finishing those Chronicles, he should in dutie have respected the glory of that people which had conquered the world and advanced the honour of the Romane name, rather than displaied his owne praise and commendation: Ywis, his demerit had been the greater, to have continued his storie as he did, for love of the subject matter, and not for his privat pleasure; to have I say performed that peece of work more to gratifie the state of Rome, than to content his owne mind and afffection. As touching my selfe (forasmuch as Domitius Piso saith, That bookes ought to be treasuries  & store-houses indeed, and not bare & simple writings) I may be bold to say and averr, That in 36 Books I have comprised 20000 things, all worthie of regard & consideration, which I have collected out of 2000 volumes or therabout, that I have diligently read (and yet verie few of them there be that men learned otherwise, and studious, dare meddle withall, for the deepe matter and hidden secrets therein contained) and those written by 100 severall elect and approved authors: besides a world of other matters, which either were unknown to our forefathers and former writers, or els afterwards invented by their posteritie. And yet I nothing doubt but many things there be, which either surpasse our knowledge, or els our memorie hath overslipt: for men we are, & men emploied in many affairs. Moreover, considered it would be, that these studies we follow at vacant times and stolne hours, that is to say, by night season onely; to the end that you may know, how wee to accomplish this, have neglected no time which was due unto your service: The daies wholly employ & spend in attendance upon your person; we sleepe only to satisfie nature, even as much as our health requireth, and no more; contenting our selves with this reward, That whiles we studie and muse (as Varro saith) upon these things in our closet, we gaine so many hours to our life; for surely we live then onely, when wee watch and be awake. Considering now those occasions, those lets and hinderances above-named, I had no reason to presume or promise much; but in that you have emboldened me to dedicat my books unto you, your selfe perfourmeth whatsoever in me is wanting: not that I trust upon the goodnesse and worth of the worke, so much, as that by this means it will be better esteemed and shew more vendible: for many things there be that seeme right deare & be holden for pretious, only because they are consecrated to some sacred temples.

As for us verely, we have written of you all, your father Vespasian, your selfe, and your brother Domitian, in a large volume which we compiled touching the historie of our times, beginning there where Aufidius Bassus ended. Now if you demand & aske me, Where that historie is? I answer, That finished it was long since, and by this time is iustified and approved true by your deeds: otherwise I was determined to leave it unto my heire, & give order that it should be published after my death, least in my life time I might have ben thought to have curried favor of those, whose acts I seemed to pen with flatterie, & beyond all truth. And therfore in this action I do both them a great favour who haply were minded before me to put forth the like Chronicle, and the posteritie also which shall come after; who, I make reckning & know, will enter into the lists with us, like as we have done with our predecessors. A sufficient argument of this my good mind & frank hart that way you shal have by this, That in the front of these books now in hand, I have set down the verie names of those writers, whose help I have used in tthe compiling of the[m]: for I have ever ben of this opinion, That it is the part of an honest minded ma[n] & one that is full grace & modesty, to confesse frankly by whõ he hath profited & gotten any good: not as many of those unthankful persons have done, whõ I have alledged for my authors. For to tell you a plaine truth, know thus much frõ me, that in cõferring the[m] togither about this work of mine, I have met with some of our modern writers, who word for word have exe[m]plified & copied out whole books of old authors, & never vouchsafed so much as the naming of them, but have taken their labors & travels to themselves. And this they have not done in that courage and spirit to imitate, yea and to match them as Virgil did Homer: much lesse have tthey shewed that simplicitie & apert proceeding of Cicero, who in his books of Pollicie and Common-weale professeth himselfe to hold with Plato; in his Consolatorie Epistle written to his daughter, confesseth and saith plainly thus, I follow Crantor, & Panætius likewise in his Treatise concerning Offices. Which worthie monuments of his (as you know well) deserve not onely to be seene, handled, and read daily, but also to be learned by heart everie word. Certes, I hold it for a point of a base and servile mind, and wherein there is no goodnesse at all, to chuse rather to be surprised and taken in theft, than to bring home borrowed good, or to repay a due debt, especially when the occupying, use, and interest thereof, hath gained a man as much as the principall.

Now as touching the titles and inscriptions of Bookes, the Greeks therein have a woonderfull grace and great felicitie: some have entituled them Khrivon, whereby they would give us to understand of A swet hony-combe: others KhvraV AmalqeivV that is to say, The horne of plentie and store: in such sort, that whosoever readeth these goodly titles, must needs hope for some great matters in such books, and as the proverb goeth, looke to drinke there or els no where, a good draught of hens milke. You shall have moreover their books set out with these glorious inscriptions, The Muses, The Pandects, Enchiridion, Leimw;n, Pinakivdion: Goodly names all, & such, as who would not make default of appearance in court, and forfeit a recognisance or obligation, to unclaspe such books and turne over the leafe? But let a man enter into them and read forward, Lord! how little or no substance at all shall he find within the verie minds, answerable to that brave shew in the front or outside thereof? As for our countreymen (Latines I meane and Romans) they be nothing so fine and curious as the Greeks, grosse are they in comparison of them in giving titles to their books: they come with their Antiquities, Examples, and Arts, and those also be such authors as are the most pleasant and of finest invention amongst them all. Valerius who (as I take it) was named Antias, both for that he was a citizen of Antium, and also because the auncestours of his house were so called, was the first that gave to a booke of his own making, the title of Lucubratio, as a man would say, Candle-worke or Night-Studie. Varro, he tearmeth some of his Satyres Sesculyxes and Flexibulæ. Diodorus among the Greeks was the first that laid aside toyish titles, and because he would give some grave name to his Chronicles, entituled it Bibliotheca, i. a Librarie. Apion the famous Grammarian, even he whome Tiberius Cæsar called the Cymball of the world (whereas indeed he deserved to be named a Timbrell or Drum rather for ringing and sounding publicke fame) was so vainglorious, that he supposed all those immortalized unto whom he wrote or composed any pamphlet whatsoever. For mine owne part, although I nothing repent me that I have devised no pretier Title for my Booke than plaine Naturalis Historia, i. The reports of Nature, without more ceremonie, yet because I would not be thought altogither to course and rate the Greeks, I can be content, nay I am willing to bee thought in this behalfe like unto those excellent grand-masters in Greece for Painting and Imagerie, whome you shall find in these Reports of mine, to have entituled those rare and absolute peeces of worke (which the more we view and looke upon, the more wee admire and wonder at for their perfection) with halfe titles and unperfect inscriptions, in this manner, Apelles  went in hand with this Picture: or, Polycletus was a making this Image: as if they were but begun, never finished and laid out of their hands: which was done (no doubt) to this end, that for all the varietie and diversitie of mens iudgements scanning of their workemanship, yet the artificer thereby had recourse to make excuse; had means (I say) to crave and have pardon for any faults and imperfections that could be found; as if he meant to have amended any thing therein amisse or wanting, in case hee had not beeen cut off and prevented by death. These noble workemen therfore herein shewed right great modestie, that they set superscriptions upon all their painted tables, pourtraitures, and personages, as if they had been the last peeces of their workmanship, and themselves disabled by unexpected death that they could not make a finall end of any one of them: for there were not knowne (as I take it) above three in all, which had their absolute titles written upon them in this forme, Ille fecit, i. This Apelles wrought: & those Pictures will I write of in place convenient. By which it appeared evidently, that the said three tables were fully finished, and that the workeman was so highly contented with their perfection, that he feared the censure of no man: No marveile then, if all three were so much envied and admired throughout the world, no marveile if everie man desired to be master of them.

Now for my selfe, I know full well & confesse freely, that many more things may be added, not to this storie alone, but to all my books that I have put forth alreadie: which I speake by the way, because I would prevent and avoid those fault-finders abroad, those correctors and scourgers  of Homer, (for surely that is their verie name) because I heare say there be certain Stoike Philosophers, professed Logicians, yea and Epicureans also (for at Grammarians hands and Criticks I never looked for other) who are with child still and travaile untill they be delivered of somewhat against my books which I have set forth as touching Grammer: and for this ten yeers space, nothing is come to light, but evermore the fruit miscarrieth belike before the full time, as the slip of an unperfect birth; whereas in lesse space than so, the verie Elephant bringeth foorth her calfe, be it never so big. But this troubleth me never a whit, for I am not ignorant that a silly woman, even a harlot and no better, durst encounter Theophrastus and write a booke against him, notwithstanding hee was a man of so incomparable eloquence that thereupon he came by his divine name Theophrastus: from whence arose this proverbe and by-word,  Marie then go chuse a tree to hang thy selfe. And surely I cannot containe and hold my tongue, but I must needs set downe the verie words of Cato Censorius, so pertinent to this purpose; whereby it may appeare, that even Cato himselfe a most worthie personage, who wrote of militarie Discipline, who had been brought up and trained to feats of warre under Great Scipio Africanus, or rather indeed under Anniball, who in the end could not endure Africanus himselfe, but was able to controll him in martiall affaires: and who besides having the conduct as L. Generall of the Romane armie, atchieved the better hand over his enemies in the field, and returned with victory: this Cato (I say) could not avoid such backbiters and slaunderers, but knowing that there would bee many of them readie to purchase themselves some name and reputation by reproving the knowledge and skill of others, brake out into a certain speech against them: And what was it? I know right well (quoth he, in that booke aforesaid) that if these writings of mine come abroad once and be published to the view of the world, there will be many step foorth to quarrell and cavill therwith; such fellows soonest and most of all who are quite void of vertue and honestie, and know not what belongeth to true honour. But surely say what they will, I let their words run by, like raine water. It was a prettie speech also and a pleasant apothegme, that Plancus uttered in the semblable case: for beeing informed that Asinus Pollio was devising and framing certaine invective Orations against him, which should be set foorth either by himselfe or his children, after the decease of Plancus and not before, to the end that they might not be answered by him; hee said readily by way of a scoffe, That none but vaine bugs & hobgoblins use to fight with the dead: with which word he gave those orations such a counterbuffe, that (by the iudgement of the learned) none were accounted afterward more impudent and shamelesse than they. For mine own part, being sure that these busie bodies shall never be able to bite me (and verely Cato hath given such fellows a proper name, and called them Virilitgatores, by a tearme elegantly compounded of vices and quarrels: for to say a truth, what did they else but picke quarels and make brawls?) I will proceed and goe on still in my intended purpose.

Now to conclude and knit up mine Epistle: Knowing as I doe, that for the good of the Commonweale, you should be spared and not empeached by any privat business of your owne, and namely in perusing these long volumes of mine; to prevent this trouble therefore, I have adioyned immediatly to this Epistle and prefixed before these books, the Summarie or Contents of everie one: and verie carefully have I endeavoured, that you should not need to read them throughout, whereby all others also after your example, may ease themselves of the like labour: and as any man is desirous to know this or that, he may seeke and readily find in what place to meet with the same. This learned I of Valerius Sorranus one of our owne Latin writers, who hath done the like before me and set an Index to those Books which he entituled Epoptivdwn.
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