Elizabeth I: Translations, 1592-1598

ELIZABETH I

ELIZABETH I

T R A N S L AT I O N S 1592–1598

Edited by

Janel Mueller and Joshua Scodel

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS Chicago & London

JANEL MUELLER is the William Rainey Harper Distinguished Service Professor Emerita of the Department of English Language and Literature and of the College at the University of Chicago. She is the coeditor of Elizabeth I: Collected Works (2000) and Elizabeth I: Autograph Compositions and Foreign Language Originals (2003), both published by the University of Chicago Press. JOSHUA SC ODEL is Helen A. Regenstein Professor of English, Comparative Literature, and the College at the University of Chicago. His most recent book is Excess and the Mean in Early Modern English Literature (2002). The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 2009 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. Published 2009 Printed in the United States of America 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 1 2 3 4 5 I SB N -13: 978-0-226-20132-0 (cloth) I SB N -10: 0-226-20132-5 (cloth) The University of Chicago Press gratefully acknowledges the generous support of the Division of the Humanities at the University of Chicago toward the publication of this book. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Elizabeth I, Queen of England, 1533–1603. [Selections. 2009] Elizabeth I : translations, 1592–1598 / edited by Janel Mueller and Joshua Scodel. p. cm. Includes index. isbn-13: 978-0-226-20132-0 (cloth : alk. paper) isbn-10: o-226-20132-5 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Great Britain—History—Elizabeth, 1558–1603—Sources. 2. Elizabeth I, Queen of England, 1533–1603—Literary art. 3. Elizabeth I, Queen of England, 1533–1603—Knowledge and learning. 4. Classical literature—Translations into English. 5. Classical literature—Translations. 6. Kings’ and rulers’ writings, English—History and criticism. 7. Women and literature— England—History—16th century. I. Mueller, Janel M., 1938– II. Scodel, Joshua, 1958– III. Title. da350.a25 2009b 870—dc22 2008049637 o The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.

CONTENTS

List of Illustrations vii For Acknowledgments and General Introduction, see Elizabeth I: Translations, 1544–1589. Elizabeth I: Translations, 1544–1589: List of Errata · viii

i

ca. 1592: cicero’s pro m. marcello introduction · 3 translation · 16

ii

1593: boethius’s de consolatione philosophiae introduction · 45 book 1 · 72 book 2 · 118 book 3 · 174 book 4 · 254 book 5 · 319

iii

1598: plutarch’s de curiositate (desiderius erasmus’s latin version) introduction · 369 translation · 390

iv

1598: horace’s de arte poetica, lines 1 – 178 introduction · 451 translation · 462 Index of Names · 485

I L LU S T R AT I O N S

1 Page from Elizabeth’s translation of Cicero’s Pro M. Marcello (ca. September 1592), fol. 6r · 2 2 Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae (October-November 1593), fol. 30r · 44 3 End of book 3 and beginning of book 4 of Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae (October-November 1593), fol. 49r · 253 4 Elizabeth’s translation of Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch’s De curiositate (November 1598), lines 278–99 · 368 5 Elizabeth’s translation of Horace’s De arte poetica (ca. November 1598), lines 1–24 · 450

ELIZABETH I: T R A N S L AT I O N S , 1 5 4 4 – 1 5 8 9 E R R ATA

p. 6, line 27: “republican Rome” should read “ancient Rome” p. 7, line 22: “September-October” should read “October-November” p. 13, line 8: “eighteen” should read “seventeen” p. 14, lines 27–30: “Elizabeth’s ‘thy familiar’ (intimate friend or associate) is cognate with but differs in sense from Boethius’s ‘tuorum quidam familiarum’ (one of your servants) in book 1, prose 4, while ‘palms’ does not accurately render ‘palmites’ ” should read “Elizabeth’s ‘palms’ does not accurately render Boethius’s ‘palmites’ ” p. 31, line 35: “582” should read “581” p. 77n139, line 4: “581–82” should read “581–83” p. 132, line 29: “nobilissimum” should read “nobilissimam” p. 150n64, line 1: “cogitations” should read “cogitationes” p. 153n80: Delete this footnote. p. 174n202, lines 2–3: Delete “Elizabeth probably misconstrued ‘priser’ (esteem) as equivalent to its English cognate ‘praise.’” Substitute “Elizabeth’s pairing of ‘priser’ and ‘louer,’ common in Renaissance French, idiomatically renders KP’s doublet.” p. 306n8: “mittit mittit” should read “mittitt mittit” p. 340, line 22: Delete “the historian Sallust (ca. 86–35 B.C.E.) and” p. 360n61, line 3: Delete “ne”

ELIZABETH I: TRANSLATIONS, 1544–1589 ERRATA

ix

p. 385n170, line 2: “contemnenetes” should read “contemnentes” p. 392n203, line 4: “repllendam” should read “repellendam” p. 414, line 19: “pre-1563 edition” should read “edition published by 1567” p. 431, line 22: “temporum meorum” should read “meorum temporum” p. 434n6, line 2: “circumstnaces” should read “circumstances” p. 441n5, line 1: “(4, 75, 82, 109)” should read “(5, 49, 75, 82, 109)”; “foot” should read “foot or extra syllable” p. 455n62, line 1: “three” should read “four”

ELIZABETH I

i

queen elizabeth’s t r a n s l at i o n o f c i c e r o ’ s pro m. marcello

ca. 1592

figure 1 Elizabeth’s translation of Cicero’s Pro M. Marcello (ca. September 1592), MS Bodl. 900, fol. 6r. Reproduced by courtesy of the Bodleian Library, University of Oxford.

Unlike most of her other translations, Elizabeth’s autograph text of six and a half folio pages containing her English version of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s oration Pro M. Marcello gives no indication of its circumstances or date. This information may be lacking because the translation is clearly a draft with frequent heavy revisions. The manuscript is written throughout in the rapid, loosely formed italic hand of the queen’s later years (mid-1580s and thereafter). The paper on which it is written bears the same watermark as the paper used by Elizabeth for her translations of Boethius, Horace, and Plutarch, which are explicitly dated between 1593 and 1598.1 The Bodleian Library has been the continuous preserve of Elizabeth’s Pro Marcello translation, bound in a period binding together with an auditor’s transcription of the Latin speech that she delivered extemporaneously at the end of a visit she made to Oxford University between September 22 and 28, 1592. We hypothesize that Elizabeth drafted her translation of Pro Marcello during her week at Oxford and left it behind as a memento of her royal visit. In The Schoolmaster, Ascham recalled how he assigned Princess Elizabeth daily translations from Cicero, the master of classical eloquence. He claimed that the “diligent translating” of such works as Cic1. H. H. E. Craster described the Pro Marcello manuscript and compared its watermarks with The National Archives, State Papers 12 / 289, in “An Unknown Translation by Queen Elizabeth,” English Historical Review 29 (1914): 721–23.

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ero’s three speeches Ad Caium Caesarum—the group to which Pro Marcello belongs—would “work such a right choice of words, so straight a framing of sentences, such a true judgment, both to write skillfully and speak wittily, as wise men shall both praise and marvel at.”2 In her Latin oration at Oxford in 1592, following speeches that praised her erudition, Elizabeth ascribed her professed lack of facility in Latin to her infrequent use of the language for thirty-six years (an approximating allusion, apparently, to the length of her reign). By translating a Ciceronian speech singled out by Ascham for its pedagogic value, she perhaps intended to recoup in this university setting some of the prowess in Latin that her tutor had cultivated and praised in her. Cicero was not only a rhetorician but also a political actor and thinker. However central his works to humanist education, in a monarch’s eyes they inconveniently celebrated the Roman republic. De officiis, his most influential treatise in Renaissance England, cited in Elizabeth’s girlhood correspondence, contains a famous celebration of tyrannicide.3 As queen, she chose to translate a work that a strict republican could only have regarded as an unfortunate lapse on Cicero’s part but a believer in virtuous monarchy would find profoundly congenial. Pro Marcello praises Julius Caesar as a godlike ruler who uniquely can restore peace and order to Rome after the horrors of civil war. This oration postdates the Senate’s declaration of Caesar as a public enemy, the crossing of the Rubicon, and the defeat of Pompey and the republican cause at Pharsalia, which brought Caesar’s triumphal entry into Rome (46 B.C.E.). The consul M. Claudius Marcellus had supported Pompey, both in battle and in self-exile at Mytilene. Cicero had aligned with the party of Pompey—that is, with the cause of republicanism—only to realize, gradually and painfully, that Julius Caesar would prevail. Accepting his offer of amnesty, Cicero sustained a life of philosophical retirement for four years. In 46, he broke his silence when the whole of the Senate petitioned Caesar to allow the impenitent Marcellus to return to Rome and be reinstated as a senator. Caesar’s surprisingly favorable response prompted the Pro Marcello. Though Marcellus was killed under obscure circumstances before he

2. Roger Ascham, The Schoolmaster (1570), ed. Lawrence V. Ryan (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia for Folger Shakespeare Library, 1967), 19–20, 56, 85, 87. 3. Elizabeth I: Collected Works, ed. Leah S. Marcus, Janel Mueller, and Mary Beth Rose (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000), 16, hereafter cited as CW; Cicero De officiis 3.4.19.

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reached Rome, neither Elizabeth nor her contemporaries seem to have shared the suspicion of some at that time that Caesar was involved, or to have read the Pro Marcello with attendant irony. Elizabeth’s identification with Cicero’s magnanimous Julius Caesar shows clearly at various points in her translation. When Elizabeth has Cicero call Caesar “princely” by loosely translating “praeclarissimam” (most admirable), she applies her preferred term for herself in her public speeches.4 To translate Cicero’s term “respublica,” she uses several English locutions including “common good,” “the state,” and, most often, “commonwealth” or “commonweal.” The latter two terms analogize the Roman and the monarchical Elizabethan state, which Elizabeth had described as a “commonwealth” consisting of an “absolute princess” and her obedient subjects.5 In one passage Elizabeth refers to “your [i.e., Caesar’s] Commonweal.” The possessive pronoun, not found in Cicero, intimates that Caesar both owns and belongs to the Roman “respublica”—a dual relation resembling Elizabeth’s conception of herself as queen of the realm of England. Caesar’s clemency is the central theme of Pro Marcello.6 Cicero’s oration marks an important development in theories of virtuous rule. Echoing Hellenistic praise of monarchs for virtues resembling Roman “clementia”—ἐπιείκεια (equity, forbearance), πραότης (gentleness), and φιλανθρωπία (love of mankind)—Cicero exalts Julius Caesar as an ideal ruler who displays virtuous reason through clemency. Under the emperors this theme would become central to Roman political thought, most influentially in Seneca’s De clementia.7 According to the Pro Marcello, clemency is nobler than military

4. See, e.g., CW, 70, 93–94, 98, 105, 107, 169, 183, 189, 193, 195–96. 5. CW, 59. On the mainly nonrepublican resonances of “commonwealth” in pre–Civil War England, see David Norbrook, Writing the English Republic: Poetry, Rhetoric and Politics, 1627–1660 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 16. The term carried a range of associations, however. Several Elizabethan writers articulated notions of the “commonwealth” that would limit the monarch’s authority: see Anne McLaren, Political Culture in the Reign of Elizabeth I: Queen and Commonwealth, 1558–1585 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), esp. 80–90, 198–235. 6. See “Introduction II: La ‘clementia Caesaris,’ ” in Cicero, Pro Marcello oratio, ed. Michel Ruch (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1965), 10–23. 7. See Traute Adam, Clementia Principis: Der Einfluss hellenistischer Fürstenspiegel auf den Versuch einer rechtlichen Fundierung des Principats durch Seneca (Stuttgart: Ernst Klett, 1970); and Miriam Griffin, “Seneca and Pliny,” in The Cambridge History of Greek and Roman Political Thought, ed. Christopher Rowe and Malcolm Schofield (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 540.

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might and fully compatible with justice. By forgiving Marcellus and other opponents including Cicero, Caesar has registered a godlike, Stoic triumph over his passions, gaining glory and turning foes into friends. Elizabeth’s education exposed her to humanist celebrations of clemency that were directly and indirectly indebted to Cicero’s oration. Continental humanist mirrors for princes treated clemency as one of the good ruler’s primary virtues.8 In his Book Named the Governor (1531), Thomas Elyot argued that a ruler must be merciful above all, for without mercy “all other virtues be drowned.” Echoing Cicero’s tribute to Caesar, “thou hath conquered thyself ” (“te ipsum vicisti”), Elyot declared that Caesar in “prowess excelled all other captains” but “in mercy only he surmounted himself.” Like many humanists, Elyot argued that “mercy and gentleness . . . joineth the hearts of subjects to their prince” and that it was nobler and safer for a ruler to be loved than feared.9 Elizabeth first known letter (1544) appeals to Queen Katherine Parr’s “clemency,” and, as queen, Elizabeth embraced the royal virtue of clemency as her own. At the beginning of her reign, she prayed for grace to govern with her subjects’ love rather than with “the fear of severity or the sword.” In 1558 she proclaimed her “mercifulness” to her subjects; in 1567 she described herself as a “gentle prince” who “pitied” rather than “blamed” erring subjects; and in 1570 she contrasted her “moderate reign” with her father’s harsher rule. Twenty-four entries on royal “mercy” (misericordia) in her Sententiae (1563) present it as a Godordained complement to justice. Elizabeth seems to have thought herself prone to clemency because women by nature were more “pitiful” than men.10 In translating Pro Marcello, however, she rejected the implication that pity was a female quality that male subjects might interpret as weakness. Instead she engaged with an all-male world where Cicero figures clemency as rational, manly strength. In one of the speeches delivered before Elizabeth at Oxford in 1592, Henry Savile, master of Merton College, noted her “clemency, justice,

8. See Quentin Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought: The Renaissance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 1:127–28, 229–31. 9. Thomas Elyot, The Book Named the Governor, ed. S. E. Lehmberg (London: Dent, 1962), 115, 116, 118. 10. Quotations in this paragraph from CW, 5, 138, 95, 105, 220, 223.

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and equity” (“clementiam, iustitiam, aequitatem”).11 Yet just as her Sententiae note difficulties in reconciling mercy with justice and pity with wisdom, so clemency did not always prove as compatible with justice or self-preservation for Elizabeth as Cicero declares and some humanists hoped. Cicero’s speech may have appealed to her not only as a celebration of the clemency on which she prided herself as queen, but also as an idealization of tactics that she wished on occasion to adopt but felt she could not. Pro Marcello affirms that, among his many excellent qualities, Marcellus’s illustrious ancestry merited Caesar’s pardon. Elizabeth herself had a visceral aversion to shedding highborn blood. After the Ridolfi plot was detected in 1571, its central figure, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, appealed to the queen’s “gracious clemency.” For several months she refused to authorize his execution for treason. When she finally bowed to parliamentary pressure, she mourned Norfolk’s death.12 Elizabeth likewise resisted taking the life of her inveterate enemy Mary, Queen of Scots. As early as the 1560s and 1570s, advocates of Mary’s death acknowledged the obstacle of Elizabeth’s merciful nature.13 In replying to the second parliamentary petition (1586) that Mary, convicted of treason, now be executed, Elizabeth invoked the humanist association of virtuous rule with clemency: she was no “tyrant,” for she had “pardoned many traitors and rebels.” Claiming to mingle “justice” with “temper” (temperance), she declined to proceed promptly to Mary’s death.14 This “temper” resembles Elyot’s treatment of “mercy” as a “temperance of the mind” as well as Cicero’s claim that Caesar displays—in Elizabeth’s rendering—“mercy” and “temper” instead of “wrath.” Yet in Mary’s case, Elizabeth had to balance the claims of mercy with those of justice and prudent self-preservation. Although Mary’s son James entreated Elizabeth’s “princely pity,” she ultimately

11. Charles Plummer, ed., Elizabethan Oxford: Reprints of Rare Tracts (Oxford, 1887), 271. Plummer reprints Henry Savile’s oration as appendix A, 263–73, collating the version printed in John Nichols, ed., Progresses and Public Processions of Queen Elizabeth, 3 vols. (London, 1823), 3:161, with Bodleian Library, MS Tanner 461, fol. 168. 12. See Norfolk’s letter in CW, 128–29, and Wallace MacCaffrey, Elizabeth I (London: Edward Arnold, 1993), 138–39. 13. See J. E. Neale, Elizabeth I and Her Parliaments, 2 vols. (1958; rpt. New York: W. W. Norton, 1966), 1:230, 311–12; 2:51, 143. 14. CW, 197–99.

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decided that Mary must die.15 In Caesar’s pardoning of Marcellus and other republicans, Elizabeth perhaps recognized a nobler form of conduct than was available to her in her political circumstances. Cicero’s praise of Caesar’s actions could have had special saliency for Elizabeth during her 1592 visit to Oxford. According to an eyewitness, the university debates, orations, and dramatic performances focused the queen’s attention on historical and political questions.16 Two presentations bear directly on the putative attraction of Pro Marcello. On September 23, Henry Savile defended the thesis that “studies of military matters and of philosophy flourish together in a commonwealth.”17 He approached his subject through the relation of military prowess to learning in general—that is, the traditional but still vital topic of arms and letters—arguing for a proper balance, so that learned men would temper the fierceness and pride of martial spirits.18 On September 25, the senior proctor, Thomas Savile, addressed the question “whether disagreement among the citizens is useful to a commonwealth.”19 His oration “commend[ed] the Lord Treasurer [William Cecil, Lord Burghley], (who was present) in respect of his great care in the government of this Commonwealth. And after him the Lord Chamberlain [Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, Elizabeth’s first cousin]. And after him the Lord Admiral [Charles Howard, second Lord Howard of Effingham], his great worth and valiant service by sea. And lastly, fell into commendation of the Earl of Essex, his honorable, valiant service in the Low Countries, in Portugal, and in France.”20 Principal courtiers, wise

15. CW, 292. Edmund Spenser’s representation of Elizabeth as Mercilla in the second installment of The Faerie Queene (1596) projects a subject’s view of the struggle between “piteous ruth” and “just vengeance” regarding Mary (Duessa) that Elizabeth had experienced and partially displayed to her subjects. See Spenser, The Faerie Queene, book 5, cantos 9–10. 16. Philip Stringer, “The Grand Reception and Entertainment of Queen Elizabeth at Oxford in 1592” (MS account), in Elizabethan Oxford, ed. Plummer, 249–61. Plummer identifies Stringer as one of two Cambridge men who accompanied William Cecil, Lord Burghley, chancellor of Cambridge University, to Oxford for the duration of the queen’s visit. 17. “Rei Militaris & Philosophiae studia in Republicâ unà vigere” (Henry Savile in Elizabethan Oxford, ed. Plummer, 263). 18. Ibid., 277–78. 19. “An Dissentiones Civium sint Reipublicae utiles?” (Thomas Savile in Elizabethan Oxford, ed. Plummer, 236). 20. Ibid., 256.

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counselors, brave soldiers can differ greatly in talents and outlook, yet all can serve the state: so Thomas Savile implied. How martial arts and learning may combine to render a state vigorous; how disagreements of leading citizens may be made politically useful; how justice may be balanced by clemency—such questions would have converged for Elizabeth in 1592 in the person of her twenty-sixyear-old favorite, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. Between 1588 and 1591 the rivalry between her two youngest favorites, Sir Walter Raleigh and Essex, had grown to new heights of invective and near-violence. In 1589 Essex joined an expedition to Portugal, openly defying Elizabeth’s restrictions on his political and military ambition. In 1591 he succeeded in obtaining from her the command of an English army sent to aid Henri IV, the beleaguered (and yet uncrowned) Protestant claimant to the French throne, in besieging Rouen.21 Fearing that his loyalties lay more with Henri IV and the Continental Protestant cause than with her and the English church and state, Elizabeth became sharply critical of Essex. Her blistering dispatches faulted his conduct and vented her anxieties about squandered money and lives. But even after the siege of Rouen failed, Elizabeth agreed to extend Essex’s command from October 1591 to January 1592, at which point he was recalled to England.22 Upon returning to court, Essex aimed at securing an appointment to the Privy Council to bolster his reputation as a military leader and a royal favorite. But further advancement proved neither quick nor easy. Elizabeth denied his request to be made chancellor of Oxford University, reportedly because of lingering resentment of his conduct in France and Archbishop Whitgift’s disapproval of his well-known Puritan sympathies.23 Shrewdly, Essex muted his open support of Puritans, cultivated Whitgift, and ended his feud with Raleigh; in the course of 1592, his promotion to the Privy Council became increasingly likely. He displayed new political initiative, joining the call for a parliament in early 1593 and working for the election of a number of his friends and followers. Finally Elizabeth decided the time had come: on February 25, 1593, Essex was made a Privy Councillor.

21. See, for these various episodes, Paul E. J. Hammer, The Polarisation of Elizabethan Politics: The Political Career of Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, 1585–97 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 83–97. 22. Ibid., 98–99, 102–7. 23. Ibid., 107–8.

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In Pro Marcello the queen could identify herself, her qualities, and her rule with the celebrated figure of the magnanimous dictator, supreme in the art of war but above all in the arts of mercy and peace. Facing the uncertain outcome of events in France and the continuing specter of a Spanish invasion of England, Elizabeth could find topical aptness in Cicero’s repeated assertions: Julius Caesar alone could unite his people through clement rule; the entire well-being of Rome depended on the wisdom of Caesar at its head. In turn, Essex’s recent behavior, in France and at court, had affinities with the character and actions of the refractory Marcellus. In translating Pro Marcello at Oxford in late September 1592, as we speculate, Elizabeth applied her humanistic training to a thorny problem of practical statecraft. As she worked through Cicero’s praise of Caesar, she had occasion to deliberate about the future of Essex. Judging from her eventual decision to appoint him to the Privy Council, the activity of translating encouraged her to align with what Cicero terms a godlike precedent: Caesar’s pardoning of Marcellus and restoring of him as a citizen and senator of Rome.24

* Elizabeth’s style in translating Pro Marcello is characteristic in its heavy use of cognates and in its frequently close modeling of phrasing on that of her Latin source. While awkwardness or obscurity results at some points, at other points she artfully reproduces Cicero’s suspended syntax, as in her opening sequence “made beginning of what I would and what I meant, in wonted sort, to speak,” rendering “attulit . . . initium quae vellem quaeque sentirem meo pristino more dicendi.” At times, Elizabeth paraphrases for expressive reasons. She concretizes some of Cicero’s abstractions: “nimis iracundam” (too inclined to anger) becomes “too bloody,” and “tantus in ullo furor” (so much madness in anyone) becomes “such a harebrain.” She may expand a Ciceronian word or phrase to heighten her rhetoric: Cicero’s claim that Marcellus’s 24. In 1597 Elizabeth, again forgiving the still unruly Essex, claimed that monarchs should “help to lift from ground the well-nigh falling man” (CW, 387). Her words recall her Pro Marcello translation, which praises Caesar for deigning to “raise from ground thy adversary” and exhorts him to “raise up from fall” the defeated. Even after Essex’s execution for treason in 1601, Elizabeth continued to espouse Caesar-like clemency: in 1603, when agreeing to spare an Irish rebel leader, she claimed that “clemency hath as eminent a place in supreme authority as justice and severity” (CW, 404).

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brother is endowed with “commemorabili” (memorable) virtues becomes the declaration that his virtues “deserve no dying praise.” “Haec qui faciat” (who would do these things), referring to anyone who, like Caesar, would display clemency to defeated opponents, swells to “whoso can frame his will to grant to this,” underscoring the volitional commitment that clemency entails. As more generally in her translations, Elizabeth employs a practice of Cicero himself and inserts doublets for rhetorical heightening. Elizabeth elaborates the phrasing “qui civile bellum tantum et tam luctuosum excitaverunt” (who roused a civil war so grave and so lamentable) to read: “the stirrers and raisers of such huge rebellion and woeful war.” “Stirrers and raisers” is a first, contemptuous doublet of her own making. A second doublet is “huge rebellion and woeful war,” evoking the specter of “rebellion” with an evident eye to what civil war would produce in monarchical England. Elizabeth also develops sound patterns for expressive purposes, some with and some without Ciceronian analogues. At the opening of the speech, “with tied tongue” supplies a concrete image that retains the three syllables and alliterating t’s of Cicero’s equivalent term, “tacitus” (silent). Her translation of “prudens et sciens” (open-eyed and knowing) as “wittingly, yea, willingly” provides an English equivalent for the Latin sound parallelisms while intensifying Cicero’s claim by way of her mind-will pairing.25 When Elizabeth translates “exstincta aequitate victoris” (quenched by the victor’s equity) as “calmed with the winner’s clementy,” the long-standing association of “aequitas” with “clementia” produces a felicitously alliterating English phrase. Her rendering of “pacis et togae . . . non belli atque armorum” as “peace and long robe, not war and weapon” attains gnomic force through alliteration (“war and weapon”) and heightened parallelism. By translating “toga”— a principal Roman symbol of peace—as “long robe” and changing Cicero’s plural “armorum” to singular “weapon,” she achieves a balance between the two nouns in their singular form and their syllable count. Following the syncretic fashion of Christian humanists in England, and of Ascham in particular, Elizabeth makes selective use of Bibli25. Richard Sherry made an English translation of Pro Marcello, printed with his Treatise of the Figures of Grammar and Rhetorike (London, 1555), which similarly reads “willingly and wittingly” (fol. lxviii v). Since this is the only resemblance between Sherry’s translation and Elizabeth’s not ascribable to literal construal of Cicero’s text, it is unlikely that she consulted his translation, which is simultaneously more literal and more idiomatic than hers.

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cal allusion for stylistic heightening.26 The Latin of Cicero’s peroration on the recent horrors of civil war rings out ominously in short parallel clauses, “Erat . . . obscuritas quaedem, erat certamen inter clarissimos duces”; her English follows suit: “There fell a darkness among us; there fell a quarrel among the greatest captains.” Augmenting the evocative power of the images of darkness and strife by substituting “fall” for “erat” (was), she echoes the wording of the Bishops’ Bible in Genesis 26:1 and 13:7, “And there fell a derthe”; “And there fell a stryfe.”27 Resonances of Biblical calamities that had tested the faith and leadership of Abraham and Isaac, patriarchs of God’s chosen people, intensify the evocation of crisis in classical Rome. Elizabeth’s Pro Marcello translation is also characteristic in occasionally leaving short phrases untranslated or in locally mistaking the sense or grammar—both, likely results of the speed with which she characteristically translated as queen. A number of her ostensible mistakes, however, are traceable to the Renaissance source from which she worked. We have examined twenty texts of Pro Marcello in editions of Cicero’s complete works, his orations, or the single speech, produced by humanists of the sixteenth century. While these texts agree extensively with each other, as a group they diverge from modern texts of Pro Marcello in eighteen instances that leave their marks in Elizabeth’s renderings.28 A striking example involves her puzzling contrast of re-

26. On Ascham’s stylistic syncretism, see Janel Mueller, The Native Tongue and the Word: Developments in English Prose Style, 1380–1580 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984), 336–46. 27. Elizabeth’s copy of the Bishops’ Bible (1568 et seq.), the authorized Church of England translation at this date, was a gift from Archbishop Matthew Parker. It is preserved among the holdings of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC. 28. We have examined editions ascribed to Andrea Navagero, his pioneering printed text from the Aldine press (Venice, 1519) and three later editions (Paris, 1532; Venice, 1534; Lyon, 1555); Michael Bentinus (Basel, 1528); Joachim Camerarius [Liebhard Kammerer] (Lyon, 1540); Philipp Melanchthon (Paris, 1544; Wittenberg, 1564); Emilio Ferretti (Lyon, 1546; Venice, 1546; Venice, 1550); Johannes Sturm (Strassburg, 1544, and its paginary reprint, Strassburg, 1564); Denys Lambin (Paris, 1566; London, 1585; Lyon, 1588); Paolo Manuzio (Venice, 1565); Gian Michele Bruto (Lyon, 1567, 1571; London, 1579–80); and Manuzio and Bruto (Frankfurt, 1590). For modern texts and commentary, we have consulted the Loeb text, Cicero XIV: Speeches, ed. and trans. N. H. Watts, rev. ed. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1953), 422–51; and Cicero, Orationes, vol. 2, ed. Albert Clark, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1940), speech 2; Cicero, Pro Marcello, ed. Ruch; and Harold C. Gotoff, Cicero’s Caesarian Speeches: A Stylistic Commentary (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1993), 3–91.

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publican opponents of Caesar, “So that he is better that lost his life in the battle than he that died for the cause,” which closely renders the obscure reading found in all sixteenth-century texts consulted: “ille sit melior, qui in acie cecidit, quam qui in causa animam profudit.” Richard Sherry’s generally literal 1550 translation adds a gloss to make sense of this obscure passage as a contrast between one who died in a battle against Caesar and another who obstinately fought to his death even after Caesar’s victory: “So that he is better which died in the field, then he that shed his bloude in mainteinying the quarrel.”29 In modern editions, the two clauses do not contrast two hypothetical fighters but rather provide parallel descriptions of one who died in battle against Caesar, who is declared better than the embittered survivor of Caesar’s victory condemned in the preceding lines: “ille sit melior, qui in acie cecidit, qui in causa animam profudit” (he is better who has fallen in battle, who has poured out his spirit for the cause). Sixteenth-century editions of Pro Marcello contain a number of substantive variants, even among editions ascribed to the same editor; our notes to the modern-spelling text record eight of these that Elizabeth evidently translated. While none of these variants is unique to one edition, we have found all eight variants in two editions only: Andrea Navagero’s 1534 Venetian edition, and Johannes Sturm’s 1544 Strassburg edition and its 1564 Strassburg paginary reprint. Though Elizabeth might have found Navagero’s 1534 edition of Cicero at Oxford University in 1592, it seems more likely that she used Sturm’s edition. Ascham, who was Sturm’s friend and longtime Latin correspondent, praised Elizabeth’s erudition to Sturm and recommended Sturm’s scholarship to Elizabeth; he may also have ensured that she acquire a copy of Sturm’s Cicero. One example shows Elizabeth responding to a textual variant with a periphrastic flourish. Referring to potential plotters against Caesar, Cicero asks, in her rendering, “Who is this madman that breeds this doubt?” Many Renaissance editions, like modern ones, read simply: “Sed quisnam est iste tam demens?” (But who is this man so mad?). A relative clause, however, follows in Sturm and in Navagero’s 1534 edition (and in some others): “Sed quisnam est iste tam demens qui scilicet tibi insidiaretur?” (Who is this man so mad that he doubtless was plotting against you?). Elizabeth reshapes the relative “qui” clause using 29. Sherry, Treatise of the Figures, sig. lxxiiii r.

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one of her favorite locutions regarding mischief-makers: “that breeds this doubt” (i.e., causes fear).30 Another variant found in Sturm and in Navagero’s 1534 edition illuminates one of Elizabeth’s more obscure renderings. She has Cicero claiming to Caesar that his achievements are such “as no age shall ever be so far as the end of thy trophies and monuments.” Modern editions read “ut tropaeis et monumentis tuis adlatura finem sit aetas” (so that although a period of time will bring an end to your trophies and monuments); the concessive clause sets up the immediately following claim that Caesar’s fame will survive despite the decay of metal and marble. Some Renaissance editions read “ut tropaeis monumentisque tuis nonnulla unquam allatura sit finem aetas” (so that although a certain amount of time will at some point bring an end to your trophies and monuments); others read “ut nulla, sicut tropaeis monumentisque, allatura sit finem aetas,” an elliptical, ambiguous formulation probably best construed “so that no period of time will bring an end to [your achievements], as [it will] to your trophies and monuments.” Elizabeth, however, closely renders the variant found in Sturm and in Navagero’s 1534 edition (among some others) that asserts, contrary to the larger context, the permanence of memorials: “ut tropaeis monumentisque tuis nulla unquam allatura sit finem aetas” (so that no period of time will ever bring an end to your trophies and monuments). Readers will find further elucidation of Elizabeth’s renderings of her source in the notes to our modern-spelling version of the Pro Marcello. Our notes throughout this second and final volume of Elizabeth’s translations adhere to the format established in the first. In our facing-page presentation of original-spelling and modern-spelling texts, our footnotes to her text in original spelling appear first, beginning on the lefthand page, with numbers in lightface; our footnotes to the text in modern spelling follow immediately, with numbers in boldface. 30. In 1567 Elizabeth rebuked those who “bred . . . doubt” regarding her respect for parliamentary liberties (CW, 105); in 1586 she warned James not to heed those who “breed your doubt” about her intentions (CW, 275).

Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s Pro M. Marcello, ca. September 1592 (original-spelling version)1 12 Of my Longe Scilence, P. C. wiche in thes days my Vse hathe bred me not for dreade but driven therto throwgh Woe and boschefulnis this present day hathe broght to end and made beginninge of what I WoLd and What I ment in Wontid sort to speak. for so great mildnis so unused and Unhard of marcye so great a meane in hiest power of alL thinges so incridible a Wisedome and aLmost diuine with tied toung by no meanes may I pas, that Marcellus P. C. is restored to you and to the Comenwelthe I deame my spiche and authorite not his alone bothe for you and to the my Country kept and retourned for sory did I muche and depely griVe to see suche a man in equal Cause with me not like fortune to obtaine nether Could I wene nor thoght 1. Source: Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, MS Bodley 900, fols. 2r–7r. A draft, entirely in Elizabeth’s loosely formed, late italic hand. The manuscript has been bound in a fine late-sixteenth or early seventeenth-century limp parchment cover with identical gilt stamping front and back. Its central design is a crowned Tudor rose in a leafbordered lozenge set within a ruled rectangle, with flower and leaf motifs at the four corners. The queen’s translation is immediately preceded by a copy of her Latin speech to the heads of Oxford University, September 28, 1592 (Elizabeth I: Autograph Compositions and Foreign Language Originals, ed. Janel Mueller and Leah S. Marcus [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003], 163–65, hereafter cited as ACFLO). Following her translation, on smaller sheets, are Latin and English versions of the very brief “Epistle of the Blessed Virgin Mary to the Messanians,” to which is appended an equally brief description of how St. Paul’s preaching had inspired the Messanians to write to the Virgin and affirm their faith in Christ. Possibly this apocryphal letter and gloss have some relation to one of the Oxford entertainments offered to the queen in 1592. The closely contemporary date of the binding may indicate that this volume’s contents were assembled as a memento of the royal visit.

Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s Pro M. Marcello, ca. September 1592 (modern-spelling version) [1]1 Of my long silence, P. C., which in these days my use hath bred me, not for dread but driven thereto through woe and bashfulness, this present day hath brought to end; and made beginning of what I would and what I meant, in wonted sort, to speak.2 For so great mildness, so unused and unheard-of mercy, so great a mean in highest power of all things, so incredible a wisdom and almost divine, with tied tongue3 by no means may I pass. [2] That Marcellus, P. C., is restored to you and to the Commonwealth, I deem my speech and authority, not his alone, both for you and to my country kept and returned. For sorry did I much and deeply grieve to see such a man, in equal cause4 with me, not like fortune to obtain. Neither could I

2. 1 The Arabic numerals in the text are foliation inserted in Elizabeth’s hand. 1. For ease of reference to the Latin, we have inserted modern section numbers in square brackets. 2. P. C. . . . . speak P. C. “Patres Conscripti” (the senators); throughout, abbreviated “P. C.” in Elizabeth and in all sixteenth-century editions. which . . . me “quo eram . . . usus” (which I had employed). made . . . speak brought about the beginning of my speaking, in my former manner, of what I wished and what I intended; “attulit . . . initium quae vellem quaeque sentirem meo pristino more dicendi.” 3. unused . . . tongue unused unusual. mean measure, moderation; “modum.” in . . . things in one who has supreme power over all things; “in summa potestate rerum omnium.” with . . . tongue “tacitus” (silent). 4. sorry . . . cause sorry sorrow. to see “cum viderem” (all sixteenth-century editions; some modern editions). in . . . cause “in eadem causa” (in the same cause).

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hit due mete that I shuld haunt the your olde wounted trade Whan he the feloWe and foLoWar of my studies and my paines was bereued me as fro of fro ^ one of deprived of my Compagnion and feere therfor thou hast O Cesar bothe Opened to my me the interlased Custome of my formar Life and from alL this audience dischargid an euident signe to make them ^ not to dout of any hope left for Comen Good, for I haue Vnderstonde3 by many and by my selfe the most yea not long ago by alL that in graunting marcellus life to the Senat, People and Comenwelthe spetialLy whan his offenses Wer alL told howe thou you preferedst the authoritie of that ordar of and the dignitie of the State befor Your owne GriVes or suspectz, he Sure hathe this day Gathered the greatest fruict of his formar days with the Senates ful Voix but CLosed up with your waighty and deape Iugement Wherby hit easely aperes how Great a laude is dew to the Giuar whan the Receiuar win gaines suche Glory RightLy Count Is hime happy whos welfare is accompayned with eache mans Ioye wiche luk by right and merite this man hathe wone for who excides thies man in bloud in truth in study of best artes in purenis or other Laude Kind of Worthe praise No man to wit Whos Wite wil ouerflow the bankes of his his hathe Largest deapest currant whos tounge and pen haue g haue greatest forse and Wordes wiche bothe may Grace and expres at Large bewtifie much les comprehend enLarge set furthe O Cesar thy Glorieus actz. And this I dare affirme and undar your Correction say among alL your actz dedes this day hathe Won you the generalst praise / Oft times haue I laid afore my yees and Soundry times Vsed in spiches to say that aL the actes of our Emperours other strange nations and potent people yea noblest Kings could neuer mache yours nor ether for greatnis of Continction Contention in nor 3. Vnderstonde o retraced over a. 5. your . . . fere your . . . trade the Senate’s political activities. your “vestro” (all sixteenth-century editions). trade manner of life. Elizabeth’s parliamentary speech of February 10, 1559, refers to her virginity as her “trade of life” (CW, 57). pains labors, efforts; “laborum.” fere comrade. 6. interlaced . . . audience interlaced “interclusam” (closed up). from . . . audience “his omnibus” (before all these [present]). 7. For . . . suspects For . . . all This obscure sentence may perhaps be glossed “For I understood from the cases of many and especially of myself and indeed, not long ago, from the cases of all.” Many sixteenth-century editions read “Intellectum est enim mihi quidem in multis et maxime in me ipso, sed paulo ante in omnibus” (It has become clear to me, in the case of many and especially in my own case, as it was a short while ago in the

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ween nor thought it meet that I should haunt your old, wonted trade, when he, the fellow and follower of my studies and my pains, was bereaved me, as one deprived of my companion and fere.5 Therefore thou hast, O Caesar, both opened to me the interlaced custom of my former life and from all this audience6 discharged an evident sign, to make them not to doubt of any hope left for common good. [3] For I have understond by many, and by myself the most, yea, not long ago by all, that in granting Marcellus’s life to the Senate, people, and Commonwealth, specially when his offenses were all told, how you preferred the authority of that order and the dignity of the state before your own griefs or suspects.7 He sure hath this day gathered the greatest fruit of his former days with the Senate’s full voice, but closed up with your weighty and deep judgment. Whereby it easily appears how great a laud is due to the giver when the receiver gains such glory. [4] Rightly is he happy whose welfare is accompanied with each man’s joy, which luck8 by right and merit this man hath won. For who exceeds this man in blood, in truth, in study of best arts, in pureness, or other kind of praise? No man whose wit hath deepest current, whose tongue and pen have greatest force and words, may beautify, much less enlarge,9 O Caesar, thy glorious acts. And this I dare affirm, and under your correction say: among all your deeds this day hath won you the generalest praise.10 [5] Ofttimes have I laid afore my eyes, and sundry times used in speeches to say, that all the acts of our emperors, other strange nations and potent people, yea, noblest kings, could never match yours, either for greatness of contention or for

case of all). Elizabeth’s three instances of “by” render the triple “in” of this Renasissance variant. Modern editions and some Renaissance ones, by contrast, omit the final “in” and construe “omnibus” as a dative of agent parallel to “mihi,” yielding the sense “as [it became clear] a short while ago to all of us.” understond understood. people “populoque” (most sixteenth-century editions consulted). suspects suspicions; “suspicionibus.” 8. happy . . . luck “fortunatus . . . quod.” Elizabeth sustains Cicero’s paradox of good fortune stemming from merit instead of chance. 9. may . . . enlarge “non dicam exornare, sed enarrare . . . possit” (may, I will not say, embellish, but even relate). 10. under . . . praise under . . . correction subject to your correction; “pace . . . tua” (by your leave). generalest praise praise of the generality of people; “nullam . . . laudem ampliorem quam eam” (no greater glory than this).

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for numbar of fightz nor Varietie of Countries nor spide in ending nor unlikenis of Warrs No mens fete could sWift lar pas with spide the Compas of fur Distant soyles than not only your skurmisssis rades but your Victories haue done Wiche Wiche alL if I did not Confes to be so great as skars a mind or thoght may all expres, I must Confes my Witz to faile me, And yet ther are Greatar thinges than thes for of in warLike praises Wordes be so placed as the disgrace the workes and robbes from Captaine ther Glory in equaling ther Soldiars Laudes Lest ther Leadars shuld reape the only honor and true hit is that in the fild the Soldiars4 Valew the placis fitnis the Compagnions helpe ther nauy and ther VitaiL do muche Auaile but yet the greatest part euen by ^ her right fortune chaLengeth and What so s prospers Wel wel ny she Claimeth alL but in this Commendation, Caius Ceasars that lately thou hast got none can be thy feloWe Al this how muche someuer wiche surely excideth alL hoLy is thine no hundred Captaine no lefetenant no lusse5 men no raskaL can gLene from thy triumφe Yea fortune the Leadar of alL worldly haps can make no profar of titeL to this thy glory but giues the place and p makes profession that only and holy hit is thine for Raschenis neuer accompagnes Wit nor Chanche a feloWe to CouncelL You haue tamed nations barberous and crueL in numbarles for multitude infinite in for placies fertile in all kinde of store but al thes be suche thinges as by nature and by state may V be Conquered for neuer was ther in suche so great ^ a forse so large a store but sWord and forse strengh might fible and devour diceuer but to Conquere the mynd to hedd6 hedge in Wrath to tempar wi tempar Conquest to raise from Grounde thy adversary whom thou mights dreade for Race for his Wit for Courage not liVing with thy

4. Soldiars Elizabeth writes an i over an o. 5. lusse loose, i.e., unattached to a military company. 6. hedd Elizabeth wrote “dd” over “gg,” before beginning afresh with “hedge.” 11. strange . . . unlikeness strange foreign. unlikeness “dissimilitudine” (diversity). 12. For . . . lauds For . . . works “Nam bellicas laudes solent quidam extenuare verbis” (For some are accustomed to disparage with words the honors of war). be . . . placed may be so placed. in . . . lauds by treating their soldiers’ praise as equal to their leaders’. soldiers’ “militibus” (many sixteenth-century editions consulted). 13. how much . . . all however much it is, which surely is greater than all the praise given to others; “quantumcumque est, quod certe maximum est” (however great it is, which certainly is very great).

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number of fights, or variety of countries, or speed in ending, or unlikeness11 of wars. No men’s feet could swiftlier pass with speed the compass of far distant soils than not only your raids but your victories have done. [6] Which all, if I did not confess to be so great as scarce a mind or thought may all express, I must confess my wits to fail me; and yet, there are greater things than these. For in warlike praises, words be so placed as they disgrace the works, and robs from captain their glory in equaling their soldiers’ lauds,12 lest their leaders should reap the only honor. And true it is that in the field the soldiers’ value, the places’ fitness, the companions’ help, their navy and victual do much avail. But yet the greatest part, even by her right, Fortune challengeth; and whatso prospers well, well nigh she claimeth all. [7] But in this commendation, Caius Caesar, that lately thou hast got, none can be thy fellow; all this how much somever, which surely exceedeth all,13 wholly is thine. No hundred-captain, no lieutenant, no loose men, no rascal,14 can glean from thy triumph. Yea, Fortune, the leader of all worldly haps, can make no proffer of title to this thy glory, but gives thee place and makes profession that only and wholly it is thine. For rashness never accompanies wit; nor chance,15 a fellow to counsel. [8] You have tamed nations barbarous and cruel, numberless for multitude, infinite for places, fertile in all kind of store; but all these be such things as, by nature and by state, may be conquered. For never was there so great a force, so large a store,16 but sword and strength might feeble and dissever. But to conquer the mind, to hedge in wrath, temper conquest, to raise from ground thy adversary whom thou mightst dread for race, for wit, for courage—not living with thy help, but extols and enlarge his former degree and place— 14. hundred-captain . . . rascal hundred-captain centurion. no . . . men “nihil cohors” (no cohort). loose men men unattached to a company; see Shakespeare, Henry VIII, 5.4.55, where pebble-throwing boys are called “loose shot.” no rascal “nihil turma” (no squadron); rascal rabble of an army or populace; common soldiers or camp followers. Elizabeth evidently mistook “turma” for “turba” (crowd, the rabble) and sought an equivalent that sustained the military focus. Cicero’s series of nouns proceeds from commanders of larger groups to ever smaller groupings of soldiers; her series is arranged in a descending social order. 15. nor chance nor is chance. 16. so . . . store “tanta copia” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted; some modern editions).

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helpe but extols him and inLarge his formar degre and place Who so Can frame his Wyl to graunt to7 this I marchall him not amonge the greattest men but shadowes him nerest to ^ mightiest God the Laudes therfor of thy Warly fetz O Cecar shal not alone be glorified by Ours glorie but by the writz and and tongz ful neare of aL other nations nether shal any after age kipe CounsaiL of thy praise Yea euen suche dides I Wote not hoW euen While the be hard or red brides amid the out soldiars shuts8 Lowde of Voys ful far ioind with the stroke bLast of many a Organ a trompet but ^ whan We heare or read an action wisely used with marcy, Curtesie Curtisie and temper wher wrathe doth raigne a fo to CounseiL whan Victory is wone of nature rasche and proud how dearely do we Reuerence suche a One not only in tru stories but in poesy Euen with suche passion as we Loue whom we neVer saw / but the O Cecar Whom present we behold whos mynd and Conditions We discerne to be suche as Loke What the fortune of war hathe left to CommenWeL that al you haue saued What thankes may extoL the What Loue may we beare the what Indeauors may we make the I assur you methinkes the Very walles of this Court shake in bursting out to rendar thankefulnis With Opinio9 that the ancient authorite of ther forefathers is like in thesm and in thes seates to be restored whan I with you beheld the marcellus bittar teares a man of best sort Whos pietie and Vertue decerue no diinge praise the memorie of all his honorable predecessors perst my brest to Whom thogh ^ dede in Marcelllus safty, thou hast restored bothe dignity and bloud thou hast

7. to Added in left margin. 8. shuts shouts. 9. Opinio opinion. 17. not . . . this not living he who is not simply living. extols . . . enlarge to extol and to enlarge. Elizabeth miswrote “extols” for the required infinitive form. “Extol” has its early modern sense of ‘lift up, raise.’ whoso . . . this “haec qui faciat” (who would do these things; most sixteenth-century editions consulted; some modern editions). 18. warly . . . of warly warlike. keep . . . of remain silent about. 19. I . . . read I . . . how word-for-word rendering of “nescio quo modo” (in some way or other). even . . . read “etiam dum audiuntur, aut dum leguntur” (most sixteenth-century editions consulted, some modern editions). 20. an . . . temper Elizabeth condenses “aliquid clementer, mansuetè, iustè, moderatè, sapienter factum” (something mercifully, kindly, justly, moderately, wisely done). temper temperance. She identifies “temper” as one of the cardinal political

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whoso can frame his will to grant to this,17 I marshal him not among the greatest men, but shadows him nearest to mightiest God. [9] The lauds, therefore, thy warly feats, O Caesar, shall not alone be glorified by ours, but by the writs and tongues full near of all other nations; neither shall any after-age keep counsel of 18 thy praise. Yea, even such deeds, I wot not how, even while they be heard or read,19 breeds amid the soldiers out-shouts loud of voice, full far joined with the blast of many a trumpet. But when we hear or read an action wisely used with mercy, courtesy, and temper20 where wrath doth reign, a foe to counsel, when victory is won of nature rash and proud, how dearly do we reverence such a one, not only in true stories but in poesy,21 even with such passion as we love whom we never saw. [10] But thee, O Caesar, whom present we behold, whose mind and conditions we discern to be such as, look what22 the fortune of war hath left to Commonweal, that all you have saved—what thanks may extol thee, what love may we bear thee, what endeavors may we make thee? I assure you, methinks the very walls of this court shake in bursting out to render thankfulness, with opinion that the ancient authority of their forefathers is like in them and in these seats to be restored.23 When I with you beheld Marcellus’s bitter tears, a man of best sort, whose piety and virtue deserve no dying praise,24 the memory of all his honorable predecessors pierced25 my breast. To whom, though dead, in Marcellus’s safety thou hast restored both dignity and blood:

virtues in her second reply to the parliamentary petition to execute Mary, Queen of Scots (CW, 198). 21. not . . . poesy “non modo in gestis rebus, sed etiam in fictis” (not only in deeds actually performed, but even in imagined ones). poesy A term sometimes used in the Renaissance of any work of imagination or fiction, whether in verse or prose. 22. O . . . what O Caesar In sixteenth-century editions, this vocative of address occurs a few lines later. Elizabeth moves it to this earlier position. look what whatever. 23. the ancient . . . restored “sit illa auctoritas in his maiorum suorum, et suis sedibus” (the authority [of Marcellus] may appear in the halls [that have been the home] of his ancestors and himself ). like likely. 24. Marcellus’s . . . praise Marcellus’s tears The tears are those of Caius Marcellus, brother of M. Marcellus, the subject of this speech. whose . . . praise “commemorabili pietate ac virtute praediti” (endowed with memorable piety and virtue; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). no dying undying. 25. pierced “effodit” (dug out, gouged out; all sixteenth-century editions consulted).

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restored wiche beinge few in numbar of his Left thou hast from dethe preserud, Of aL the innumerable multitude of thankes that thy Worthe hathe bred the this days prais let hit haue hiest rome for this mattar his only your oWne Other actz While you wer Leadar wer uery great but yet not unaccompagned of many and great assistance of Rowte, in this only fact you ar bothe feloWe and Gide / wiche sure is suche as no age shaL euer be so far as the ende of thy Thr troφeis10 and monumentz / 2 for what so naught is so made by handy craft or Worke but sometime or age mars or consumes but this thy Iustice and mynds kindnis eache day dothe helpe to flourische more and more in suche sort as Looke What wery Age sa may skant from thy Acts that hit addeth to thy praise and11 as to fore thou hast exceld the Victorars of CiVil Wars, So this day thou hast Conquerd thy self, s but noW I dread Lest the hirars eares wyl not easely understand what In my thoghts I thinke meane thou hast Shewed thy selfe the conquerar of Conquist in bereVing her her spoiles and best bequeVing12 them to Losars Luk, for Whan (by Victories Law by righ alL Won13 Wel were gilty to dy by thy marcys Iugement We be all safe Ri Iustly than thou art titled inVincible by Whom the state and forse of Victorye her selfe is ar made thy pray and how far dothe reache this Cesars iugement L P. C.14 Listen and Giue Eare15 Al we driVen ^ I wot not how by a wreched and dedLy fate ^of our Commenwel that toke upon Vs the trade of armes ar fride from mischif thogh thraL to some faulte of humaine error for Whan Ceasar kept at 10. troφeis trophies, written with Elizabeth’s characteristic Greek phi. 11. and Added in left margin. 12. bequeVing bequeathing. 13. Won Elizabeth supplies no close parenthesis at this point. 14. P. C. Elizabeth belatedly opted to include Cicero’s direct address to the P.C. (“Patres Conscripti”—the senators). She writes P over L, the first letter of the following word, “Listen,” which she had begun to write, and adds C. 15. Eare Elizabeth leaves the sense incomplete by striking through this word at a line end; see n32 in our modern-spelling version. 26. let . . . room “antepones” (you will place above; all sixteenth-century editions, some modern editions). Elizabeth evidently took Cicero’s future tense for “anteponas,” a jussive subjunctive. 27. rout band or troop of persons. 28. fact . . . monuments fact deed, act. you . . . guide “tu idem es et dux et comes” (you are both the leader and your only comrade). as no age . . . monuments “ut tropeais monumentisque tuis nulla unquam allatura sit finem aetas” (some sixteenth-century editions). See the discussion in our introduction, p. 14.

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which, being few in number of his left, thou hast from death preserved. [11] Of all the innumerable multitude of thanks that thy worth hath bred thee, this day’s praise, let it have highest room.26 For this matter is only your own. Other acts while you were leader were very great, but yet not unaccompanied of many and great assistance of rout.27 In this only fact you are both fellow and guide, which sure is such as no age shall ever be so far as the end of thy trophies and monuments.28 For nought is so made by handicraft or work but sometime age mars or consumes; [12] but this thy justice and mind’s kindness each day doth help to flourish more and more in such sort as, look what weary age may scant from thy acts,29 that it addeth to thy praise. And as tofore thou hast excelled the victorers of civil wars,30 so this day thou hast conquered thyself. But now I dread lest the hearers’ ears will not easily understand what in my thoughts I mean: thou hast showed thyself the conqueror of conquest in bereaving her her spoils and bequeathing them to losers’ luck. For when by Victory’s law, by right, all won, we were guilty to die, by thy mercy’s judgment we be all safe. Justly, then, thou art titled invincible,31 by whom the state and force of Victory herself are made thy prey. [13] And how far doth reach this Caesar’s judgment, P. C., listen and give [ear].32 All we driven, I wot not how, by a wretched and deadly fate of our Commonweal, that took upon us the trade of arms, are freed from mischief,33 though thrall to some fault of human error.

29. handicraft . . . acts handicraft . . . work “opere aut manu factum” (made by work or hand; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). Modern editions read “et” for “aut,” yielding a hendiadys for “handiwork.” weary age “diuturnitas” (longevity). from . . . acts “operibus,” which can mean ‘from your exploits, achievements’ but in the context of Cicero’s contrast between perishable memorials and enduring fame presumably means ‘from your structures, monuments.’ Partly as a consequence of the textual variant in Elizabeth’s source recorded in n28, Elizabeth does not clearly register the contrast that Cicero draws. 30. victorers . . . wars victorers victors. wars Elizabeth does not translate the following phrase, “aequitate et misericordia” (by your equity and compassion). 31. thou . . . invincible “unus invictus es” (you alone are invincible). 32. Listen . . . [ear] Emphatic expansion of “attendite” (give heed to). Elizabeth mistakenly truncated her phrase by deleting “ear.” She may have intended to replace it with a variant such as “attention” (cognate with Cicero’s verb) or “heed.” 33. All . . . mischief All . . . driven All we who were driven. I . . . how A word-for word rendering of the idiom “nescio quo” (by some). by . . . fate “fato . . . nescio quo . . .

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your requestz Marcelus safe for ComenWelthe I he restored me to my self and to my Country Without a sutar the residue of nobLest sort he bestoWed on them selVes and to this soile Whos pres nombar and Worthe this audience shewes you, hit Was not he that broght Our foes in Our Courtz but made hit plain that this CiVil War was by the most sort enterprised more for blindenis, and False and Vaine feare thatn egged by Couetous or Cruel meaninge for my part in this bikerinng I supposed hit our best to treate of peace and bend therto our Eares not a litel Griued to se the citizans Voice and speakars therfor with ernest S sute refused for nether this nor any other CiuiL war wold I euer haue folowed My Conseilz did euer Accompagne peace and Long Robe not war and Weapan. the man I foloWed was for my priVat Loue not for the Commen Cause and so muche the faithful memory of a grateful mynd preVaild with me as for no gaine No not for hope wittinly yea willingly I ran as to my baine Wiche determination of myne was not Kept hid for as this Senat may witnis Whan al Was safe What I sayd of peace Yea in the Sorest War I thogh the same and Gaue hit made hit plaine with the Ventur of my life No man shal be found so I uniust a ^ Iuge as to doubt of Ceasars mynd Euen in the War Whan he Sentenched16 the Auctors of peace to be preserved and Sore Offended with the rest And yet Les marVeL hit had bin Euen at that Instant Whan uncertaine Was was17 the end and doutful Luk of war Whan the Winnar fauors the peacemakars he sureLy shewes e a Wil more prompt to leue to fight than a mynd gready to Win and for this mattar I can Witnis with Marcellus for Our opinions as in peace so in war wer euer One, how oft haue I and with what grife Seen him feare the Pride of some yea the fiersnis of the Victory So muche

misero funestoque” (by some wretched and deadly fate). freed . . . mischief “scelere . . . liberati” (absolved of crime). mischief evil-doing. 16. Sentenched sentenced. 17. Was was A repetition across a line break. 34. our . . . meaning our courts “curiam”; in context, a reference to the Senate house. made . . . plain “indicavit” (revealed; many sixteenth-century editions). meaning intent. 35. to treat . . . therefor to treat . . . ears “de pace agendum, audiendumque esse” (proposals for peace were to be treated and heard; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). therefor for that [i.e., for peace]. Elizabeth condenses Cicero’s expression of

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For when Caesar kept, at your requests, Marcellus safe for Commonwealth, he restored me to myself and to my country without a suitor; the residue of noblest sort he bestowed on themselves and to this soil, whose number and worth this audience shows you. It was not he that brought our foes in our courts, but made it plain that this civil war was by the most sort enterprised more for blindness, false and vain fear, than egged by covetous or cruel meaning.34 [14] For my part in this bickering, I supposed it our best to treat of peace and bend thereto our ears, not a little grieved to see the citizens’ voice, and speakers therefor35 with earnest suit, refused. For neither this nor any other civil war would I ever have followed; my counsels did ever accompany peace and long robe,36 not war and weapon. The man I followed was for my private love, not for the common cause.37 And so much the faithful memory of a grateful mind prevailed with me as for no gain, no, not for hope, wittingly, yea, willingly38 I ran as to my bane: which determination of mine was not kept hid, as this Senate may witness. [15] When all was safe, what I said of peace, yea, in the sorest war I thought the same, and made it plain with the venture of my life. No man shall be found so unjust a judge as to doubt of Caesar’s mind, even in the war, when he sentenced the authors of peace to be preserved, and39 sore offended with the rest; and yet less marvel it had been, even at that instant, when uncertain was the end and doubtful luck of war. When the winner favors the peacemakers, he surely shows a will more prompt to leave to fight than a mind greedy to win. [16] And for this matter I can witness with Marcellus; for our opinions, as in peace so in war, were ever one. How oft have I, and with what grief, seen him fear the pride of some—yea, the fierceness grief that “non modo pacem sed etiam” (not only peace but even) arguments for peace were rejected. 36. civil . . . robe civil war “bellum civile” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted). long robe “togae.” The toga, the formal outer garment of freeborn Roman men, here symbolizes peacetime or civilian life. 37. The . . . cause The man Pompey. for . . . cause “privato officio non publico” (out of personal duty, not public; all sixteenth-century editions consulted, some modern editions). The antithetical noun phrases show Elizabeth’s stylistic preference for symmetrical doublets, but this particular formulation—“love” vs. “cause”—may also indicate her divided mind regarding Essex. 38. wittingly . . . willingly “prudens et sciens” (open-eyed and knowing). 39. and and was.

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more welcome is thy Liberalitie as we Our selves Wer VeWers of thy merite for noW is no time to dispute Causes but to Compare Victories We haue seen thy Victory limited with batoulL We haue Looked of no sword in the City without his skaberd The Citezins we Lost no rage of Victorie but forse of War Co bet doWne So as no man nides to doubt of thy Good Wil O Cesars euen to haue rayse from graue if thy poWer had equald thy Good WylL yet many of thos that be gone Sins Euen of the same Side and troupes thou hast saued Whom thou Couldest but of this part I wyl say no more but that We alL did dread Lest this Victorie Wold haue bine to bloudy for some ther Wer that thretened not the Weaponed but the Loiterars with Speche that hit mad no matter What the thoght but Wher the Wer So that me thinkes the Immortal Gods althogh the Looked for some due punischmentz at the Romanes hands Vpon the sturrars and raisars of suche huge rebellion and Woful War Yet noW ether appaised or satisfied the Seme to haue Yelded alL to hope of life in to the handz of the Victorars Wisc marcy and Wit / wisedome Wit Ioy thou therfor in this Goodnis and Injoy with thy fortune and Glory thy good nature and Condicions Whens procides to the Wise man most profit and greattest delight, In remembring the rest of thy Good turnes many may Ioy the for thy Verteu but many diuers for thy Luk but thy bounty in making me One of the saued with you and my Countrye that can you neuer remember with out the thoght of your greatest benefitz incredible liberalitie and singular liberalitie,wisedome Wiche be not to be accompted the greatest, good but the only So fur shines the Lustar of true prais so great state in magnanimitie of mynd 40. thy liberality . . . merit thy liberality Elizabeth omits Cicero’s vocative “C. Caesar,” that follows at this point. we . . . merit “nobis qui illa vidimus” (to us, we who saw those things—i.e., the “pride” and “fierceness” of civil war). Elizabeth perhaps read the neuter plural “illa” as feminine singular “illam,” referring to Cicero’s “liberalitas” (liberality). 41. raise[d] . . . troops raise[d] Elizabeth wrote “raise”—either a penslip or an uninflected past participle. of . . . troops “ex eadem acie” (of the same army—i.e., the “many” in Pompey’s army whom Caesar would have wished to save). 42. of . . . bloody of . . . part “alterius . . . partis” (of the other party—i.e., the Pompeians). too bloody “nimis iracundam” (too inclined to anger). 43. where . . . were Remaining in Rome was deemed a sign of support for Caesar. 44. although . . . war “etiamsi poenas a populo Romano ob aliquod delictum expetiverunt, qui civile bellum tantum et tam luctuosum excitaverunt” (even if they did exact

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of the victory! So much more welcome is thy liberality, as we ourselves were viewers of thy merit.40 For now is no time to dispute causes, but to compare victories. [17] We have seen thy victory limited with battle; we have looked of no sword in the city without his scabbard. The citizens we lost, no rage of victory but force of war beat down, so as no man needs to doubt of thy goodwill, O Caesar, even to have raise[d] from grave, if thy power had equaled thy goodwill, many of those that be gone, since even of the same side and troops,41 thou hast saved whom thou couldst. But of this part I will say no more but that we all did dread lest this victory would have been too bloody.42 [18] For some there were that threatened not the weaponed but the loiterers, with speech that it made no matter what they thought, but where they were.43 So that methinks the immortal gods, although they looked for some due punishments at the Romans’ hands upon the stirrers and raisers of such huge rebellion and woeful war,44 yet now either appeased or satisfied, they seem to have yielded all hope of life into the hands of the victorers’ mercy and wit. [19] Joy thou therefore in this goodness,45 and enjoy with thy fortune and glory thy good nature and conditions, whence proceeds to the wise man most profit and greatest delight. In remembering the rest of thy good turns, many may joy thee for thy virtue, but divers for thy luck.46 But thy bounty in making me one of the saved47 with you and my country—that can you never remember without the thought of your greatest benefits, incredible liberality, and singular wisdom, which be not to be accounted the greatest good, but the only. So far shines the luster of true praise, so great state in magnanimity of mind

retribution from the Roman people for some sin, who raised a civil war so grave and so lamentable). Elizabeth construes the Roman people as the agents rather than the recipients of divine punishment and avoids Cicero’s suggestion that the gods themselves incited civil war. She also loosely construes “civil war” as “rebellion and . . .war.” 45. in . . . goodness “isto tam excellenti bono” (in this your crowning good). 46. many . . . luck many of your good deeds may delight you as evidence of your virtue, but some of them may delight you as evidence of your good luck. divers Cicero ascribes more deeds to good fortune: “plerumque” (very many, the most part). 47. me . . . saved me “nobis” (us). Elizabeth construes Cicero as referring to himself with a rhetorical plural rather than, as the context suggests, referring collectively to the republican exiles forgiven by Caesar. saved “salvos” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted).

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and CounseL18 this shewes Vertues libera reWards the other but fortunes Loue, be not weary therfor to preserue good men that haue faulted not for ambition or Lewdenis but begiled with Opinion of dewty thogh falz hit wer yet sure not dishonest hauinge a shewe of Countryes Good, for your fault hit was not that some haue feared you yea muche more thy prais that thogh the decerned Yt the feared the not NoW come I to the greatest quareL and Egarst Suspicion wiche not you alone but alL the Citezines spetially my selfe with the residue that thou hast saued Ought to forse,19 wiche thogh I hope be got aWry yet my Wordz shal not ss lessen for Your Safty must euer be Our Warent euen so far furth as if I must nides fault I had rather be seme to fearfuL than skarsely Wise, Who is this mad man that brides this doWt, is he One of your Owne thogh none Can be more yours than the that hold ther life of thy your gift whan lest they Looked therfor W Was he of the numbar that wer in your troupes suche a hare braine may hardly be found as receuing all of his Captaines Grace Wyl not prefer his Life afor his oWne but if your oWne thinke you no harme be Ware your enemy do you none but Wher find we them, all the that wer ether haue perist by ther stumberdnis20 or wer saued by thy marcye So hit folowes that ether none dothe liue or the that brithe be Wone thy noune21 but for that ther be so many ^ croked and hiden holes in mennes myndz Let me increase thy your suspect so shaL ^ you increase your hide22 3 Who is so simple an Innocent so ignorante of home matters So ne Careles of his owne and Comen Good that knoWes not how of on thy life and Welfare alone dependeth his and so the rest of Citizens Sure Whan night and day I think of the as dewty bindz me I feare the 18. CounseL The turn from fol. 4r to 4v occurs after this word, and on fol. 4v the entire text is written upside down. On fol. 5r the directionality is righted. 19. forse foresee. 20. stumberdnis stubbornness. 21. thy noune thine own. “Thine own” is often segmented as “thi / thy nown(e) / noune” in sixteenth-century writing. 22. hide The end of the upside-down text of fol. 4v. 48. the other “caetera” (other things). 49. lewdness . . . . duty lewdness wickedness. with . . . duty by the belief that they were performing their duty; “opinione officii.” 50. that, though . . . not “quod minime timendum fuisse senserunt” (that they felt you were to be feared very little). 51. eagerest . . . lessen eagerest most fierce or savage; “atrocissimam.” my . . . lessen “numquam tamen verbis extenuabo” (I will never belittle with my words).

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and counsel; this shows Virtue’s rewards, the other48 but Fortune’s love. [20] Be not weary, therefore, to preserve good men that have faulted not for ambition or lewdness, but beguiled with opinion of duty:49 though false it were, yet sure not dishonest, having a show of country’s good. For your fault it was not, that some have feared you; yea, much more thy praise that, though they discerned it, they feared thee not.50 [21] Now come I to the greatest quarrel and eagerest suspicion, which not you alone but all the citizens, specially myself with the residue that thou hast saved, ought to foresee: which though I hope be awry, yet my words shall not lessen.51 For your safety must ever be our warrant, even so far forth as, if I must needs fault, I had rather seem too fearful than scarcely wise. Who is this madman that breeds this doubt? Is he one of your own?52—though none can be more yours than they that hold their life of your gift, when least they looked therefor. Was he of the number that were in your troops? Such a harebrain53 may hardly be found as, receiving all of his captain’s grace, will not prefer his life afore his own. But if your own think you no harm, beware your enemy do you none.54 But where find we them? All they that were, either have perished by their stubbornness or were saved by thy mercy. So it follows that either none doth live, or they that breathe be won thine own.55 [22] But, for that there be so many crooked and hidden holes in men’s minds, let me increase your suspect; so shall you increase your heed. Who is so simple an innocent, so ignorant of home matters, so careless of his own and common good that knows not how on thy life and welfare alone dependeth his and so the rest of citizens’ sure?56 When night and day I think of thee, as duty binds me, I fear the 52. Who . . . own Who . . . doubt? See our discussion in the introduction to this text, pp. 13–14. doubt fear, dread. one . . . own? one of Caesar’s own followers. 53. such . . . harebrain “tantus in ullo furor” (so much madness in anyone). harebrain reckless person. 54. But . . . none The main clause of this sentence in modern editions is a question headed by “An”; in all sixteenth-century editions consulted, it is an imperative headed by “At” (But). 55. or . . . own “aut qui superfuerunt, amicissimi sint” (or those that survive are most friendly; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). be . . . own are won [over to be] thine own [friendly to you]. Elizabeth’s double ellipsis renders the sense elusive. 56. of home . . . sure of . . . matters “in re publica.” sure surety, safety. At points Elizabeth extends the category of adjectives that can function as nouns—as, e.g., “good” does in ordinary English usage.

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sondry ^ mishaps that fals to men the uncertainn change of helth and SLippernis of mans dayes and GriVe I do Whan this Commenwelth wiche I Wische immortaL to se hit depend vpon the brethe of One ^ mortal parson but if to humane Il Luks and unlooked disease disease thes be added to a Consent of mischif and a sorte of treason hoW may We in humain reason beliue that a God shal helpe Our nide thou must raise up from faL, O Cesar, aL suche thinges as by forse of War, wiche nidely must hap)23 wer stroken and bet doWne Yea that that tim hathe Lowsed Lawes must bind You must appoint Iugementz seates You must stablische faithe bi Suppres Lust Confirme the LawfuL inheritars hit Was not to be Looked for in so Ciuil a War in so great a broiL of mynds and armes but that the shaken CommenWelth What So the hap of War might bride shuld Loose many Ornamentz of her State and Strengh of her maintenance Yea ether of you bothe in feld Wold bid ful many actions that in Senate you wold neuer suffer don And noW alL the Woundz that this War hathe made thou must be Surgen for to for no man elz may heale them, Against my Wyl ful sore I haue hard thy princely and Wise Voyce, Say thes I haue liVed longe Inough bothe for nature and for glory, Sufficient time for your age, if So you Wyl add to it you list for your honor but for that is most worth for your Country surely to short / ^ Ouerslip I pray you this Wisdom of Lernid doctors that despisst dethe with be not wise for Our pereL, Oft do I heare that you to muche dothe use to Giue out this Spiche that that you haue liued Long ynough for your self, I beliue you, weL but yet with this addition if to your self alone you liued or borne Wer only for your selfe, but Whan your actes haue managed the safty of your Citezins and Country so fur be you from the perfection of your greattest affayres that I beliue you haue skant layd the foundacions of them that your mynd comprehends Wil 23. hap) Elizabeth supplies no open parenthesis. 57. I . . . immortal “immortalis esse debeat” (should be immortal). 58. how . . . need? “quem deum, etiamsi cupiat, opitulari posse reipublicae credamus” (what god, even if he should wish to, are we to believe could help the republic?—all sixteenth-century editions consulted). 59. needly . . . bind needly . . . hap necessarily must happen. stroken struck. yea . . . bind “omnia quae dilapsa . . . diffluxerunt severis legibus vincienda sunt” (all that has fallen apart must be tied together with strict laws). Elizabeth translates loosely, adding “time” and omitting “severis” (strict), thus softening the image of the imposition of law. She also moves this passage to the head of the series of parallel clauses translated in her next sentence; in Cicero this passage occurs as the climax.

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sundry mishaps that falls to men—the uncertain change of health and slipperiness of man’s days—and grieve I do when this Commonwealth, which I wish immortal,57 to see it depend upon the breath of one mortal person. [23] But if to human ill-lucks and unlooked disease these be added too, a consent of mischief and a sort of treason, how may we in human reason believe that a god shall help our need?58 Thou must raise up from fall, O Caesar, all such things as by force of war (which needly must hap) were stroken and beat down; yea, that, that time hath loosed, laws must bind.59 You must appoint judgments’ seats; you must stablish faith, suppress lust, confirm the lawful inheritors.60 [24] It was not to be looked for in so civil a war, in so great a broil of minds and arms, but that the shaken Commonwealth, whatso the hap of war might breed, should lose many ornaments of her state and strength of her maintenance; yea, either of you both, in field would bid full many actions61 that in Senate you would never suffer done. And now all the wounds that this war hath made, thou must be surgeon to, for no man else may heal them. [25] Against my will, full sore, I have heard thy princely62 and wise voice say these: “I have lived long enough both for nature and for glory.” Sufficient time for your age, if so you will; add to it, you list,63 for your honor; but for that is most worth, for your country, surely too short. Overslip, I pray you, this wisdom of learned doctors64 that despise death; be not wise with our peril. Oft do I hear that you too much doth use to give out this speech: that you have lived long enough for yourself. I believe you well, but yet with this addition: if to yourself alone you lived, or born were only for yourself. But when65 your acts have managed the safety of your citizens and country, so far be you from the perfection of your greatest affairs that I believe you have scant laid the foundations of them that your mind comprehends. Will

60. confirm . . . inheritors “propaganda soboles” (offspring must be produced). Cicero exhorts Caesar to concern himself with the losses of life in the civil war. Elizabeth shifts the emphasis from procreation to inheritance. 61. either . . . actions either . . . both “uterque dux” (the leader of either side—i.e., Caesar and / or Pompey). would . . . actions “faceret” (would do). 62. princely “praeclarissimam” (most admirable). 63. you list if you list; “si placet.” 64. Overslip . . . doctors Overslip Slide over, pass by. wisdom . . . doctors doctrines of Stoic philosophers. 65. But when “nunc cum” (yet since; all sixteenth-century editions consulted).

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you limite the end of your days with the pleasing of your mynd not With the Care of your24 Countries Good What if this be not sufficient for your oWne Glory of Wiche thogh you be a Wise man You can not deny You are most Gridy of Is hit a smaL matter to Loe leue a great Glory Yea to others yea to many ynough but to serue your liking to liteL for hoW magnifique so euer a matter be that yet if the attende expect a greattar fortune the rest comes to25 short for if O Cesar of your immortal fame this only shuld be the ende that Winning Your foes you should LLeaue your ComenWeLe in State as noW hit is take hide that your diuine uertue Cary not more Wondar than prais for your Glory is noble, and fur Sprid abrod by the fame of Your desartz toWard many of greatest degry and Worthe yea to your Citezins to your Country and in Short to alL kind of estatz but yet ther bidz behind another part for you to play another dide to execute and this must be your traueL26 to frame a ComenWelthe and Compound hit in so quiet Sort as you may Inioy with hit your27 quiet ease / And than whan whan your haue payd ansWerred your Countrey his due and nature haue bine paid sufficient for his d her det With a sufficiencye Content satisfaction of life than if you List Say I haue liued Long Inough but28 What meneth29 this Word Sufficient Inough in wiche ther is a furdar respect ende attended wiche Whan hit haps al passed pleasures shal seme none bicause ther shal be none to Come foloWe. Thy haute Courage was euer Suche as neeuer Was Satisfied With the Strait bondz that nature Yeldz all men to liue in but StiL 24. your Added in left margin. 25. to Added in left margin. 26. traueL travail. 27. your yo written over w. 28. but Added in left margin. 29. meneth th retraced over st. 66. care . . . good Elizabeth reflected as follows in her first reply to the parliamentary petition to execute Mary, Queen of Scots: “If by my death, other nations and kingdoms might truly say that this realm had attained an ever prosperous and flourishing estate, I would (I assure you) not desire to live, but gladly give my life” (CW, 192–93). 67. Is . . . glory Is . . . matter “Parumne igitur, inquies” (“Is it a small thing?” you will ask). Elizabeth does not translate “inquies”; as a result, Caesar’s imagined question becomes a rhetorical question of Cicero’s. great glory “gloriam magnam” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted). 68. magnific . . . short magnific “amplum” (great). yet . . . short “id certe parum est tum, cum est aliquid amplius” (however great it be, it is certainly small, if there is anything greater; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). 69. your Commonweal Elizabeth adds the possessive pronoun.

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you limit the end of your days with the pleasing of your mind, not with the care of your country’s good?66 What if this be not sufficient for your own glory, of which, though you be a wise man, you cannot deny you are most greedy of? [26] Is it a small matter to leave a great glory?67 Yea, to others, yea, to many, enough; but to serve your liking, too little. For how magnific soever a matter be, yet if they expect a greater fortune, the rest comes too short.68 For if, O Caesar, of your immortal fame this only should be the end—that, winning your foes, you should leave your Commonweal69 in state as now it is—take heed that your divine virtue carry not more wonder than praise. For your glory is noble and far spread abroad by the fame of your deserts toward many of greatest degree and worth, yea, to your citizens, to your country, and in short, to all kind of estates.70 [27] But yet there bides behind another part for you to play, another deed to execute; and this must be your travail: to frame a Commonwealth and compound71 it in so quiet sort as you may enjoy with it your ease. And then when you have answered your country his due, and Nature have been paid sufficient for her debt with a satisfaction of life, then, if you list, say: “I have lived long enough.” But what meaneth this word “enough”?—in which there is a further end attended, which, when it haps, all passed pleasures shall seem none because there shall be none to follow. Thy haute courage72 was ever such as never was satisfied with the strait bonds that Nature yields all men to live in, but still

70. For . . . estates For . . . fame “si quidem gloria est illustris ac pervagata . . . fama” (if indeed glory is illustrious and widespread fame). Elizabeth reads Cicero’s claim about the nature of glory as an address to Caesar regarding his glory. She also construes “fama” as an ablative describing how Caesar attains glory rather than as a predicate defining what glory is. of your . . . worth “multorum et magnorum . . . meritorum” (of your many and great services; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). Elizabeth’s loose rendering adds a focus upon the social status of those indebted to Caesar. deserts meritorious deeds. your citizens “suos cives” (his [the famous man’s] citizens; most sixteenth-century editions consulted, some modern editions). Elizabeth translates the third-person reference as “your” because she construes the passage as an address to Caesar. to . . . country “in patriam” (to [his] country). all . . . estates “omne genus hominum” (every race of men, all mankind). Continuing her emphasis upon social status, Elizabeth renders Cicero’s generalization about humankind in terms of the early modern hierarchy of social ranks or estates; compare her 1572 reference to “our own subjects of all estates” (CW, 206). 71. compound settle, pacify; “composita” (settled, pacified; most sixteenth-century editions consulted). 72. Thy . . . courage “iste tuus animus” (this your courage). haute high, haughty.

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inflamed with Loue of immortalitie nether is this to be termed life wiche knitz the Soule and body togither but that is that is thy life Ceasar wiche shal haue life in memorye of many Ages Wiche posterite shal feade and Eternitie shal looke On be diligent in this worke, And bost thy selfe of so good a dide / this thy life Country hathe beheld many thinges to Wondar at and noW doth loKe for many thinges to prais Our posteritie Wil be astonied to here and read of all your Won kingdomes prouincis the Rhene the Occean the Nile your innumerable fightz your incredible Victories your monumentz your ReWardz and your triumfes / but with onles this Citie be stablished by your Conselz and Ordars your Wayfaring name30 shaL spred fur and Wide, but a stable seate and Sure abode hit shal neuer haue / ther shaL arise a great contention amonge them that shaL foloW us as amonge Vs that now liue Some Wil extoL thy dides to sky some other WyL say ther Was som what ondone yea of greatist Consequenze except for Countryes good thou quenche the flame of Ciuil stur Wiche may make plain that the One Was destinie and this last thy CounsaiL / the Very sLaues Stand to the Iugementz of thos that in after time shaL be Verderars of your dides perchanche with Clearar dome than We Ours for thers ther sentense shaL haue no hate no loue no hate no desire no Envie Corrupt and so griue ther Contience And thogh that some t so falsly Iuge that thos days shaL nothing auaiLe you Yet this present age time no man denies but hit toucheth you to sheWe you suche a one as no Obliuion may dimm your prais 4 diuers Wer the Wils and d soundry Wer the Opinions of the Citezins, for we diferd fought not with Councelz and indeuors but contented with Wepon armor and Weapon ther fel a darknes amonge

30. name Added in left margin. 73. to . . . Caesar to . . . termed “dicenda est” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted). Caesar All sixteenth-century editions consulted contain this direct address. 74. except . . . counsel except unless. which . . . counsel If Caesar saves his country, his exploits in war will be attributed to destiny, while his establishment of order will be attributed to his wise advice. 75. verderers . . . doom verderers verdict-givers, judges (by extension of the term for judicial officers of the royal forests, sworn to maintain them against tres-

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enflamed with love of immortality. [28] Neither is this to be termed life, which knits the soul and body together, but that is, that is thy life, Caesar,73 which shall have life in memory of many ages, which posterity shall feed, and eternity shall look on. Be diligent in this work, and boast thyself of so good a deed. This thy country hath beheld many things to wonder at, and now doth look for many things to praise. Our posterity will be astonished to hear and read of all your won kingdoms, provinces—the Rhine, the Ocean, the Nile—your innumerable fights, your incredible victories, your monuments, your rewards, and your triumphs. [29] But unless this city be stablished by your counsels and orders, your wayfaring name shall spread far and wide, but a stable seat and sure abode, it shall never have. There shall arise a great contention among them that shall follow, as among us that now live. Some will extol thy deeds to sky. Some other will say there was somewhat undone—yea, of greatest consequence—except, for country’s good, thou quench the flame of civil stir, which may make plain that the one was destiny, and this last thy counsel.74 Stand to the judgments of those that in aftertime shall be verderers of your deeds, perchance with clearer doom75 than ours. For their sentence shall no love, no hate, no desire,76 no envy corrupt. [30] And though that some so falsely judge that those days shall nothing avail you, yet this present time no man denies but it toucheth you to show you such a one77 as no oblivion may dim your praise. Divers were the wills, and sundry were the opinions of the citizens, for we fought not with counsels and endeavors but with armor and weapon. There fell a darkness among us; yea, there fell78 a quarrel

pass). clearer freer, less biased, more innocent; “incorruptius” (more incorruptible, unbiased). doom judgment. 76. no desire “sine cupiditate” (without greed). “Cupiditas” can refer to intense desire in a neutral sense, but the context suggests the negative sense of ‘greed.’ 77. some . . . one some . . . avail you Cicero alludes to those who do not believe in or respect the importance of the afterlife, such as the Epicureans. show . . . one demonstrate that you are such a person (“te talem”). 78. fell . . . fell “erat . . . erat” (was . . . was). Elizabeth’s rendering recalls the phrasing of Genesis 26:1 and 13:7 in the Bishops’ Bible.

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us ther fel a quareL amonge the greatest Captaines Many doubted ^ What was best some What was best for them selues Other What became them Yea some other What was LaWfulL thus Was this Comenwelth affLicted with this Wretched and iueL destined War but he Wan who kindeled not his hate with his fortune but couured hit With his marcy nor Iuged not Worthy dethe nor Outlawry aL suche as had offend31 him Suche Weap Weapons as Wer layd doWne by some Others boldly toke Vp, Vngrateful and I unIust a Citezin is he Who deliVerd fromWars danger Kepes a mynd armed stiL So that he is bettar that Lost his life in the batteL than he that died for the Cause. For that is froWardnis in to in some in to32 others semes Constancy but for that this broil is broken With armes and Calmed with the Winnars Clementie hit remaines noW that Al be of One mynd not only the that be Wise but the that be not mad for Without thy safty O Cesar and thy good Sentence Whiche heretofor and euen this day thou gaue safe can we neuer be Wherfor aL We that Wische alL safe sure do exhort and beseche the to Care for thy life and Surtie and that I may speke for alL others that of my self I thinke bicause thou thinkes ther lise33 lurking somthinge worthy thy hide we do promis the not only SKout Wache and gard but the bulke of our sides and Carcasis for thy ^ defense but that this my Oration may take his end Whens his beginning ^ ^ rose Our thankes be great We renddar the but more by muche We Owe the, for alL with on Consent be of Like ^ mynd as bothe as34 wel ther Wisches and teares may make the knoWe and for that alL the multitude Can hardly spe be hard at ons they haue Chosen me ther Spokesman to Whom hit becommeth me Obay bothe for that So suche is thir Wyl and chiefly for that I knoWe my bond is suche to as Marcellus being restored to the Senate to the people to the 31. offend offended. 32. in to On Elizabeth’s revision, see n83 of our modern-spelling version. 33. lise lies. 34. as Elizabeth failed to delete this superfluous “as” when she made the revision immediately preceding. 79. what became them what was fitting for them; “quid deceret . . . sibi.” 80. outlawry exile, banishment. 81. Such . . . up “arma ab aliis posita, ab aliis erepta sunt” (arms were put down by some and snatched from others). 82. So . . . cause “ille sit melior, qui in acie cecidit, quam qui in causa animam profudit” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted). See the discussion in the introduction to this text, pp. 12–13.

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among the greatest captains. Many doubted what was best: some, what was best for themselves; other, what became them;79 yea, some other, what was lawful. [31] Thus was this Commonwealth afflicted with this wretched and evil-destined war. But he won who kindled not his hate with his fortune but covered it with his mercy, nor judged not worthy death nor outlawry 80 all such as had offended him. Such weapons as were laid down by some, others boldly took up.81 Ungrateful and unjust a citizen is he who, delivered from war’s danger, keeps a mind armed still. So that he is better that lost his life in the battle than he that died for the cause;82 for that is frowardness in some, to others seems constancy.83 [32] But, for that this broil is broken with arms and calmed with the winner’s clementy,84 it remains now that all be of one mind—not only they that be wise, but they that be not mad. For without thy safety, O Caesar, and thy good sentence,85 which heretofore and even this day thou gave, safe can we never be. Wherefore all we, that wish all sure, do exhort and beseech thee to care for thy life and surety. And that I may speak for all others, that of myself I think: because thou thinks there lies lurking something worthy thy heed, we do promise thee not only scout, watch, and guard, but the bulk of our sides and carcasses86 for thy defense. [33] But that this my oration may take his end whence his beginning rose—our thanks be great we render thee, but more by much we owe thee. For all with one consent be of like mind, as both their wishes and tears may make thee know. And for that all the multitude can hardly be heard at once, they have chosen me their spokesman, to whom it becometh me obey, both for that such is their will, and chiefly for that I know my bond is such as, Marcellus being restored to the Senate, to the people, to the Commonwealth, I ought 83. for . . . constancy “quae enim pertinacia quibusdam, eadem aliis constantia videri potest” (for what can seem obstinacy to some, to others can seem constancy of purpose). that is that which is, what is. frowardness . . . some Elizabeth’s phrase fails to capture the Latin sense. She initially revised this to the more accurate “frowardness to some” but then reverted to her original formulation; see our original-spelling version. 84. with . . . clementy “aequitate victoris” (by the victor’s equity). clementy clemency (form unattested in OED). 85. for . . . sentence for “quia” (all sixteenth-century editions consulted). 86. scout . . . carcasses scout . . . guard Three near-synonyms render Cicero’s plural doublet “excubias et custodias” (watch-guards and sentinels). scout sentinel. watch watchman. carcasses (living) bodies.

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Comenwelth I aught to th take make this function for I may parceue an VniVersal Ioy as not for his life alone but for the good of alL And to proue mby frindeship to him hit hathe bynne euer knoWen to aL men so great as but to C. M.35 his best and deare brother I weL giue place to none other / Wiche I haue Vereuied by Sute, by Care, by labor as long as I beheld his life in doute and noW that I see him fried from fere from troble from Woe I augh to do as You may heare / therfor O Ceasar Receaue my many thankes as from him that Confesseth him self and alL his ^ not only preserued by thy Goodnis but aduanced and yet aboue alL thy innumerable desartz to me alone (wiche I Could neuer haue imagined) this thy fact to marcellus doth made hathe Layd the hiest hiep / 35. C. M. Caius Marcellus. 87. And . . . function And . . . once “non est astantibus omnibus necesse dicere” (it is not necessary for all to stand up to speak; a reading with minor variations in sixteenth-century editions). Here “all” are the senators, not “the multitude.” to . . . obey A loose rendering of “cui necesse est” (for whom it is necessary). Cicero refers to himself, and proceeds to explain why he must speak. such . . . will “quod volunt” (what they want; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). chiefly “praecipue” (above all; all sixteenth-century editions). my . . . such Elizabeth’s explanatory addition. Marcellus

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to make this function;87 for I may perceive an universal joy, as not for his life alone but for the good of all. [34] And to prove my friendship to him (it hath been ever known to all men so great, as but to Caius Marcellus, his best and dear brother, I well give place to none other), which I have verified by suit,88 by care, by labor as long as I beheld his life in doubt; and now that I see him freed from fear, from trouble, from woe,89 I ought to do. As you may hear, therefore, O Caesar, receive my many thanks as from him that confesseth himself and all his, not only preserved by thy goodness, but advanced; and yet above all thy innumerable deserts to me alone (which I could never have imagined), this thy fact to Marcellus90 hath laid the highest heap. . . . restored Elizabeth omits “a te” (by you, i.e., Caesar). I . . . function “id a me fieri debere” (it should be done by me; all sixteenth-century editions consulted). 88. by suit by earnest endeavor; “sollicitudine” (by solicitude / effort). 89. I see . . . woe “magnis curis, molestiis, doloribus liberatus” (freed [as I am] from great cares, distresses, and sorrows). Elizabeth applies to Marcellus what Cicero says of himself. 90. this . . . Marcellus this action of yours toward Marcellus; “hoc tuo facto” (by this action).

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figure 2 Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae (October–November 1593), fol. 30r. Reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, UK.

During a bleak period in October-November 1593, Elizabeth translated Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae (Consolation of Philosophy). Once a high official at the court of the Ostrogoth king of Italy, Theodoric (493–526 C.E.), Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius was summarily condemned on charges of treason in 523. As Theodoric’s exalted and powerful master of the offices, Boethius had protected his close senatorial associates, especially his revered father-in-law, Symmachus, at the cost of making enemies. When Theodoric’s private secretary Cyprian denounced the prominent senator Albinus for treasonable correspondence with persons close to the Byzantine emperor Justin, Theodoric declared Albinus guilty without trial. Boethius had the temerity to defend Albinus. In return, Cyprian’s brother Opilio and two other courtiers, Basilius and Gaudentius, accused Boethius of writing letters that treasonably expressed hopes of liberation from Theodoric’s rule and of committing other crimes. Boethius was thrown into prison to await execution. There he wrote his classic work. The Consolation enacts an arduous mental ascent to the divine realm by its human protagonist, the character Boethius, guided by a personification of reason, Lady Philosophy. Through intense exchanges of dialogue between the initially distraught Boethius and Lady Philosophy as the reassuring exponent of God’s order, the Consolation aims to articulate the nature of true happiness and the problem of evil. Interweaving Platonic, Neoplatonic, Aristotelian, and Stoic themes, Lady Philosophy argues that evil men, whatever their worldly success, are

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not happy, and that the virtuous, whatever their worldly fortunes, are blessed and even share in divinity, because they participate in the goodness of God. She concludes by arguing that divine providence is fully compatible with human free will. Because God sees temporal events in an eternal present, His knowledge imposes no constraint on the future or on the freedom of human action. By choosing virtue, humans can attain happiness in this life and receive reward from God in the hereafter. Within his dialogic framework, Boethius intersperses poems dense with allusions to Latin poetry, history, and myth that enhance the philosophical argument with lyric pungency.1 The Consolation, which had attracted King Alfred and Geoffrey Chaucer to make earlier English translations, was a major school text in the Middle Ages. In the Renaissance it continued to be read and admired widely. Philosophers responded to its metaphysical arguments concerning divine providence and human freedom; humanists hailed its lyrics as models of elegant Latinity.2 The Consolation influenced Thomas More’s Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation (1534), written during his imprisonment in the Tower of London awaiting trial on treason charges for refusing to swear Henry VIII’s Oath of Supremacy.3 1. Henry Chadwick provides a fine overview of the Consolation in Boethius: The Consolations of Music, Logic, Theology, and Philosophy (Oxford: Clarendon, 1981); P. G. Walsh offers an excellent English rendering, introduction, and notes in his translation of the Consolation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999). We have consulted the critical editions by Ludovicus Bieler (Turnholt, Belgium: Brepols, 1984) and by Claudio Moreschini in De Consolatione Philosophiae, Opuscula Theologica (Munich: K. G. Saur, 2000); the twovolume grammatical commentary of James J. O’Donnell, Bryn Mawr Latin Commentaries (Bryn Mawr, PA: Thomas Library of Bryn Mawr College, 1990), and the literary commentary of Johannes Gruber, Kommentar zu Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophiae, 2nd ed. (1978; Berlin: De Gruyter, 2006). Our own literal translations are indebted to Walsh; the Loeb translation by S. J. Tester in Boethius, Theological Tractates and The Consolation of Philosophy, ed. and trans. H. F. Stewart, E. K. Rand, and S. J. Tester (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973); Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy, trans. Victor Watts, rev. ed. (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1999); and Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy, trans. Joel C. Relihan (Indianapolis: Hackett, 2001). 2. See Anthony Grafton, “Epilogue: Boethius in the Renaissance,” in Boethius: His Life, Thought and Influence, ed. Margaret Gibson (Oxford: Blackwell, 1981), 410–18; Antonino Poppi, “Fate, Fortune, Providence, and Human Freedom,” in The Cambridge History of Renaissance Philosophy, ed. Charles B. Schmitt et al. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 642, 649–50. 3. See A Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, ed. Louis L. Martz and Frank Manley, Complete Works of St. Thomas More, vol. 12 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1976), cxvii–cxix.

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In their defenses of poetry, Elizabeth’s contemporaries Thomas Lodge and Philip Sidney cited Boethius’s precedent in using verse for philosophical discourse.4 In translating Boethius, Elizabeth was not only making an influential classic her own but also expressing some of her long-harbored thoughts. She herself had been imprisoned in the Tower of London by her half-sister Queen Mary on suspicion of complicity in treasonous plotting in 1554.5 Lady Philosophy’s Stoic argument in book 2 that one has no reason for complaint if fickle Fortune turns her wheel and suddenly dashes power, influence, and well-being to nothing echoes the theme of Seneca’s Epistle 107, which Elizabeth had translated near the end of her first decade of rule. Yet she seems to have sought the particular consolation of Boethian philosophy in late 1593. This was a period of unrelieved difficulty and anxiety for the now sixty-year-old queen, including war with Spain and concerns over Catholic conspiracies. William Camden, the historian, headmaster of Westminster School, and associate of Elizabeth’s principal secretary Lord Burghley, plausibly reports that one event particularly directed her attention to Boethius. In Camden’s annalistic history, the entries for 1593 relate that the queen received a report that “the French King, either had embraced, or would shortly embrace the profession of the Romish religion,” whereupon she dispatched a special envoy, Thomas Wilkes, to Henri IV, “to dissuade him by forcible reasons contained in writing.” But before Wilkes arrived, Henri had publicly professed Roman Catholicism. According to Camden, Henri “ingeniously laid open” to Wilkes his “motives,” which were pragmatic and tactical. The king claimed that if he had not converted, a new war of religion would have convulsed France. By converting, he concluded, “I have united the princes of the blood royal to me, prevented the election of Guise [a rival for the throne sponsored by an opposing faction], . . . and saved the Reformed religion from danger of burning.”6 Camden provides an English version of Elizabeth’s highly emotional 4. Elizabethan Critical Essays, ed. G. Gregory Smith, 2 vols. (London: Oxford University Press, 1904), 1:74, 173. 5. See Elizabeth’s highly wrought appeal to Mary: Letter 23 in CW, 43–44. 6. [William Camden,] Tomus Alter, & Idem: Or the Historie of the Life and Reigne of that Famous Princesse, Elizabeth . . . since the yeare of the Fatall Spanish Invasion, to that of her sad and euer to be deplored dissolution, ed. Thomas Browne (London, 1629), 85, 86, 88.

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and sharply reproachful letter in French to Henri IV, charging him with abandoning his highest ethical and religious principles and betraying his status as a child of God: “My God, is it possible that any worldly respect should efface the terror with which the fear of God threatens us? Can we with any reason expect a good sequel from an act so iniquitous? . . . Ah, it is dangerous to do evil to make good out of it. . . . Your most assured sister, if it be after the old fashion; with the new I have nothing to do.”7 In the next development he reports, keyed by the marginal rubrics “She translateth a book of Boethius” and “Boethius de consolatione,” Camden reflects on the dispirited Elizabeth: “In this her trouble she only found ease and solace from the holy Scriptures, the writings of holy Fathers, often conferences with the Archbishop [John Whitgift], and even sometimes out of the philosophers she drew comfort. For certainly I know, that at that time she was very conversant in the book of Boethius, and that she then translated it into English.”8 Her rendering of the philosophical conclusion and affective culmination of the Consolation reverberates with sentiments voiced in her letter to Henri IV: since we live our lives before “a Viewer of us all” who “dispenseth to good, reward; to ill, their deserts,” “godliness” is “a great necessity . . . when you do plead afore the eyes of that Judge that all discerns.” Boethius’s ultimate referent for human conduct proves the same as Elizabeth’s, declared with vehemence in her letter: the “fear of God” (“la crainte Divine”) and His judgment, which Elizabeth admonished Henri IV to place before “any worldly respect” (“mondain respect aulcun”). Yet the questions perennially asked about the Boethius of the Consolation can be asked about Elizabeth herself. Why would an otherwise declared, committed Christian embark upon a work of such intensity without recourse to Christianity as revealed truth? How is the centrality of this project of working out a natural theology, an affirmation of God’s governance from evidence of Nature and the human realm, to be understood? Boethius evidently undertook to act on his deep lifelong respect for logic and dialectic by forging a pathway to the heights of vir7. Ibid., 88; see CW, 370–71, and Elizabeth’s French original in ACFLO, 165–66: “Mon dieu est il possible que mondain respect aulcun deut effacer le terreur que la crainte Divine nous menace, pouuons nous par raison mesme attendre bonne sequele d’acte si inique. . . . Ah c’est dangereux de mal faire pour en faire du bien. . . . Vostre tres asseuree Soeur, si ce soit a la Vielle mode, auec la nouuelle Ie nay que faire.” 8. Camden, Tomus Alter, 89.

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tue and beatitude that would be fully compatible with Christianity yet independent of it, thus putting philosophy to the test of what it could do for him as he lay in prison awaiting death. Elizabeth, while reading the Scriptures and the church fathers and conversing with Archbishop Whitgift, also evidently felt the pull of a supplemental humanist endeavor in seeking to make sense of Henri IV’s conversion—possibly, in her case, to counter his worldly justification of his conversion with the loftier and more probing argumentation of Boethius’s Consolation. Yet such argumentation had unsettling implications for Elizabeth herself in the 1590s, as she sought to thread her way through theological issues tangled by Catholic-Protestant polemics at a time when the militancy of Jesuit missionaries in England was prompting her and her agents to increasingly harsh repressive measures.9 Her version of the Consolation, as we shall see, is a philosophical-theological hybrid. Elizabeth adds Christian and distinctively Reformed elements to her source. Yet she also recognizes congenial alternatives to Reformed doctrines of predestination and the bondage of the will in Boethius’s late classical, synthesizing philosophy. Besides its philosophical content, the formal richness of the Consolation must have attracted Elizabeth. Dialogue was her chosen mode of dealing with Henri: she sent Wilkes to France for that purpose, and even her outraged letter to him envisages their continuing exchanges, which in fact were soon resumed: “Where you promise me all friendship and fidelity, I confess I have dearly merited it, and I will not repent it, provided you do not change your Father. . . . May He guide you in the right path. . . . I will not cease to place you in the forefront of my devotions.”10 As she translates the Consolation she becomes so immersed in the turns of the dialogue that she frequently skips over the “she said’s” and the “I replied’s” that mark changes of speaker, devoting her entire attention to the give-and-take between Boethius and Lady Philosophy as if she were observing them live. At first, all of the translated text is in Elizabeth’s hand, but part way into prose 3 of book 1, her clerk Thomas Windebank begins to write 9. See “The Execution of Justice in England” by William Cecil and “A True, Sincere, and Modest Defense of English Catholics” by William Allen, ed. Robert M. Kingdon (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press for the Folger Shakespeare Library, 1965), xiii–xxxvii. 10. CW, 371. On subsequent developments in the relations between Elizabeth and Henri, and the English and French courts, see Anne Lake Prescott, “Foreign Policy in Fairyland: Henri IV and Spenser’s Burbon,” Spenser Studies 14 (2000): 189–214, esp. 203–6.

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at her dictation, obviously under the felt pressures of time. Thereafter, with infrequent local exceptions signaled in the notes to our original-spelling version, the prose portions are in Windebank’s professional secretary hand. By contrast with the prose sections produced by dictation, the lyric poems, or Meters, are in Elizabeth’s late italic hand, often heavily revised.11 She manifestly responded to the lyrics with special attention, and we discuss these verse translations in the latter half of this introduction. Her attentiveness to the verse, however, reveals a tendency that emerges in the prose as well. She consistently displays more engagement with the human dimensions of the text that center on psychology and morality than with its trajectories of philosophical reasoning about such abstruse issues as reconciling future contingencies with divine providence. At points Elizabeth’s formulations blunt the thrust of Boethius’s extended metaphysical and epistemological arguments: thus, for example, her rendering of “necessarium esse eventum praescitarum rerum, etiam si praescientia futuris rebus eveniendi necessitatem non videatur inferre” (the outcome of things foreknown is necessary, even if the foreknowledge seems not to confer on future things the necessity of occurring; book 5, prose 3) as “necessary must be the hap of that that chances, although we do not see aforehand the need of that haps” obscures Lady Philosophy’s central point concerning the relationship between foreknowledge and necessity. In general, Elizabeth’s often condensed renderings of arguments in books 3–5 bespeak some impatience with Boethius’s careful, even fastidious qualifications and his precise articulations of logical entailment. Formulations like “esse dicantur” (may be said to be) are reduced to a simple, straightforward “be” (book 3, prose 7). Boethius’s “si in quolibet genere inperfectum quid esse videatur” (if anything seems to be imperfect in any kind) becomes “if in anything there be imperfection” (book 3, prose 10); his “si bonum potens esse constiterit, liquet inbecillitas mali; at si fragilitas clarescat mali, boni firmitas nota est” (if it is established that good is powerful, the weakness of evil is clear; and if the fragility of evil is evident, the firmness of good is known) becomes “For good and ill, being 11. As sole exceptions among dozens of lines of verse, meter 5 of book 4 is preserved in Windebank’s hand, as is meter 6 of book 4, excluding lines 19–29, which are in Elizabeth’s hand. Lines 1–3 of meter 2 of book 5 are also in Windebank’s hand.

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so contrary, if powerful be the first, the last doth show his lack” (book 4, prose 2). By contrast, Elizabeth responds to the text’s human dimensions with some of her liveliest colloquial language. The rendering of a reported dialogue describes how a jester “nippingly” (“mordaciter”) punctured the pretensions of a would-be philosopher (book 2, prose 7), while the sixty-year-old queen sharpens the comparatively monotonic evocation of “maesti” (sad) old age into “grunting age” (book 1, meter 1, line 8).12 Possibly revealing a measure of indifference, but more probably to express her ethical and psychological concerns, Elizabeth tends to transpose Boethius’s metaphysical claims about Nature or all created things into claims about human beings. For example, she translates “quidquid” (whatever) as “whosoever” in rendering the assertion “whosoever faileth from that good, he leaves to be,” that is, he no longer exists (book 4, prose 3); similarly, she personalizes “aliquid” (anything) as “any man,” freest “as nearest he doth draw to the Orderer’s wheel” and “wrapped in straiter knots of fate” the further he is from “the first intent”—that is, God’s mind (book 4, prose 6). Elizabeth’s Christianity colors her translation of passages on the relation of human nature to the divine. She sometimes heightens the force or effects of evil to give Boethius a darker, more monitory tone, as when she neglects to translate Philosophy’s claim that Fortune is always good to the virtuous, and instead focuses only on the evildoers who “bide in their iniquity” (book 4, prose 7). Over against such human depravity Elizabeth sets human “godliness,” thus notably Christianizing the classical virtue of “goodness” (“probitas”) (book 4, prose 3; book 5, prose 6). Boethius concludes the hymn at the center of the work by praying that God be perceived as the source of all goodness; Elizabeth, in another notable Christian inflection, terms this experience of God’s splendor “grace” (book 3, meter 9, line 28).13 While she often excises qualifications that he appends to his metaphysical claims, Elizabeth moderates with her distinctive restraint Boethius’s assertions that the quest for virtue and beatitude ultimately

12. See G. B. Riddehough, “Queen Elizabeth’s Translation of Boethius’ De consolatione philosophiae,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 45 (1946): 93. 13. Additionally, Elizabeth echoes Luke 23:24 (book 3, meter 8, lines 14–15) and Romans 1:20 (book 4, prose 6; book 5, prose 6).

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renders humans divine (book 3, prose 10; book 4, prose 3). As she had tempered Marguerite de Navarre’s ecstatic rhetoric of union with God some forty years before, so she consistently tones down Boethius on the progression of the virtuous: they can become “likest to God” (book 3, prose 10) or “like to God” (book 4, prose 3) but not divine. Although Boethius’s notion of deification derives more directly from Augustine than from pagan philosophy,14 Elizabeth finds any such imaginings incompatible with the humility that a Christian must show in addressing and approaching God. Some of her Christianizing inflections of Boethius’s text have a specifically Reformed cast, including her pointed avoidance of a cognate in rendering “purgatoria clementia” as “pacifying clemency” (book 4, prose 4), thus precluding a possible allusion to purgatory. Lady Philosophy’s argument for the compatibility of divine providence and human freedom turns on a Neoplatonic conception of a God who is pure Mind. Elizabeth, however, endows Boethius’s hyper-rational God with the absolute, sovereign will of the Calvinist God, respectively rendering “ipsa illa divina ratio” (that divine reason itself) as “God’s pleasure” (book 4, prose 6) and “divinae mentis” (of the divine mind) as “divine pleasure” in one context (book 4, prose 6) and as “God’s will” in another (book 5, prose 2). Nevertheless, while Calvin’s God arbitrarily imparts saving grace to His elect, Elizabeth finds congenial Boethius’s claim that human beings can qualify for grace by freely choosing to live a virtuous life. At one point she magnifies his distance from a Reformed understanding of grace by construing in its most assertive sense a claim that could have been interpreted more tentatively. Translating “siquidem” as “for” rather than “if indeed” (as several modern translators do), Elizabeth has Boethius claiming “for through price of true humility we deserve the unestimable inclination of God’s grace” (book 5, prose 2). Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius exemplifies the general features of her practice noted in our general introduction: archaic language and frequently elliptical expression; heavy use of cognates, often more consonant with the sense of the Latin than might first appear after early modern meanings are taken into account, but sometimes wide of the

14. Chadwick, Boethius, 211, observes that Boethius’s conception of divinization draws on well-known passages of Augustine (Enarrationes in Psalmos 49.2; 52.6; City of God 9.23; Tractatus in epistolam Joannis ad Parthos 48.9). Boethius, however, does evoke pagan polytheism in his claim that the virtuous become “deos” (gods; book 4, prose 3).

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Latin sense; and some inattention to the verb tenses and moods and the declensions of nouns and adjectives that are crucial for construing Latin accurately.15 Moreover, Elizabeth is sometimes puzzled by postclassical constructions and terms—for example, “merito” with the genitive in the sense of “by reason of,” which she translates in its classical adverbial sense, “deservedly” (book 4, prose 4). The comparative paucity of inflections in English makes for intermittent ambiguities in her syntax and sense. On encountering her “wisdom the end of all measures,” it is not immediately clear that “measures” is a verb, although the Latin “rerum exitus prudentia metitur” is unambiguous (book 2, prose 1). Elizabeth may have welcomed—or may not have minded— some arguably enriching ambiguity. In “Whilom she [Fortune] fierce kings, cruel, destroys” (book 2, meter 1), “cruel” renders “saeva.” While “saeva,” a feminine singular form, unambiguously refers to Fortune, “cruel,” by contrast, might attach either to Fortune (as our modernizing punctuation seeks to make clear) or to “fierce kings”—or to both. Some of Elizabeth’s lapses in construing grammar, like the eyeskips that occasionally make for omissions of words and phrases, can be attributed to how hastily she worked. Windebank wrote two memoranda on her Boethius translation; these are separate attempts to calculate how long the ambitious project took. She began on October 10 and finished on November 8, 1593, during a period of residence at Windsor Castle, but, he notes, she did no translating at all on “four Sundays, three other holidays, and six days on which your Majesty rid [rode] abroad to take the air,” while on the days she did translate, the sessions lasted “two hours only” or “did never exceed one hour and a half.” Since the two memoranda differ, his estimates of the time she expended on “the whole translation” range from twenty-four to thirty working hours.16 It is, moreover, unclear whether Windebank factored in the time that Elizabeth worked by herself on Boethius’s lyrics. His record of his calculations nonetheless bears witness to the gratification that Elizabeth received from her ability to translate her source with speed and fluency. 15. Riddehough, “Queen Elizabeth’s Translation,” 89–93, provides an extensive list of such errors, although some of these are based on misunderstandings of Elizabeth’s elliptical renderings and some are her accurate renderings of textual variants in the Renaissance edition that served as her source. 16. Windebank’s two memoranda are bound into the manuscript of Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius in State Papers 12 / 289 as fols. 9r, 10r.

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One shared feature of Elizabeth’s translations, particularly noticeable in her Boethius, is her tendency to construe a Latin word or phrase by means of an English counterpart that, to some degree, is at odds with its context. These “off ” choices or strained construals sometimes suggest that she was unfamiliar with the special or technical sense of some word. Given Elizabeth’s greater interest in ethics than in metaphysics, it is understandable though odd that, as noted in our general introduction, she renders “temerarius” and its cognates in the psychological sense of ‘rash’ where the context requires the sense of ‘fortuitous, accidental.’ More often, her misconstruals seem to be the consequences of translating quickly, word for word or phrase for phrase, without sufficient attention to the logic of a passage. Thus in translating “Bibulas vitet harenas” as “Shuns soaking sands,” she gives “bibulas” its sense of ‘sodden,’ even though the desert image indicates that “bibulas” must here mean ‘thirsty’ (book 2, meter 4). Another liability to which a translator working quickly is prone involves misreading or confusing words. Elizabeth recurrently does both in translating Boethius. Her “pleasure” confuses “voluntatibus” (volitions) with “voluptatibus” (book 3, prose 11); her “key” confuses “clavus” (rudder) with “clavis” (book 3, prose 12); her “light” confuses “lex” (law) with “lux” (book 4, prose 4)—in this last case providing a perfectly plausible alternative context to that of the actual text. She misconstrues “liquet” (it is clear) as “licet” (it is permitted; book 3, prose 4) and “suis” (of a swine) as its homonym, “his own” (book 4, prose 3). At several points she confuses forms of “sospes” (safe) and postclassical “sospitas” (health) with “hospes” (host / guest) and “hospitium” (hospitality, welcome). Other errors in Elizabeth’s text, however, evidently stem from mishearings or misunderstandings on the part of Windebank. When the dictation arrangement was only just under way, he must have misheard “to my style and memory have committed,” a word-for-word rendering of Boethius’s Latin, writing instead “to my silent memory have committed” (book 1, prose 4). In prose 3 of book 4, a passage where human vices are figured as traits of animals, Windebank writes “liar” when Elizabeth must have said “lion.” There is no evidence, moreover, that he consulted Boethius’s Latin to correct mistakes or dispel perplexity regarding what he heard. Editorial recourse to Boethius’s Latin can clarify such evident hitches in transmission. Footnotes to our modern-spelling text record examples as they arise.

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Yet when one is assessing Elizabeth’s combination of accuracy, freedom, and error as a translator, it is imperative to take into account the Renaissance edition that was her source. As befitted the respect it commanded, Boethius’s De consolatione saw numerous Renaissance editions, either within collections of his works or as stand-alone publications.17 We have consulted six editions from the sixteenth century and, for purposes of comparison, three from the end of the fifteenth century and one from the early seventeenth century.18 Our notes record twenty-five instances where Elizabeth renders a substantive variant reading found in all of the sixteenth-century editions consulted. For example, her “driven” renders “acta” where modern editions read “aucta” (swollen; book 1, meter 2, line 3); “weapons” renders “arma” where modern editions read “arva” (fields; book 2, meter 5, line 18); and “eaves” renders “tecto” (on a roof) where modern editions read “texto” (in a woven [cage]; book 3, meter 2, line 21). We have noted twelve further variants, including omissions, that occur in several sixteenth-century editions and manifestly determine Elizabeth’s readings. Despite our relatively selective sampling of Renaissance editions of Boethius, we are reasonably certain that Elizabeth’s source text was Theodor Pulmann’s Antwerp edition of 1562.19 Besides all the variants noted above, Pulmann has eleven additional variants rendered by Elizabeth that we have found only in this edition. Most tellingly, Pulmann’s 1562 De consolatione contains a further seventeen misprints rendered by Elizabeth that he corrects in his second edition of 1580 (with one exception that remained uncaught). Several manifest errors, obscurities, and even nonsensical renderings in her translation stem from her characteristically close, literal rendering of the text of Boethius as it reads in Pulmann’s first edition of 1562. We should note that nine of these seventeen misprints are corrected on an errata list that appears as the final page in at least some copies of this 1562 edition; if Elizabeth’s copy in-

17. Luca Obertello, Severino Boezio (Genoa: Accademia Ligure di Scienze e Lettere, 1974), lists five editions of Boethius’s complete works published between 1492 and 1546 and fifty-nine separate editions of the Consolation published between 1471 and 1589. 18. We have consulted the following editions of De consolatione: Cologne, 1482; Venice, 1497; Strassburg, 1501; Lyon, 1514; Basel, 1522; Antwerp, 1562, ed. Theodor Pulmann; Antwerp, 1580, ed. Pulmann; and Antwerp, 1607. We have also consulted two editions of Boethius’s Opera Omnia: Venice, 1499, and Basel, 1570. 19. We have reproduced the substantive variants from Pulmann’s edition but have otherwise followed the spelling and punctuation of the modern Loeb text.

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cluded the errata, she evidently followed her usual practice of not consulting editorial materials other than marginal notes or indices. Her renderings of variants unique to Pulmann’s edition among the sixteenth-century editions we have consulted include “lies” for Pulmann’s “iacent” in place of other editions’ “manent” (remain; book 2, meter 7, line 15) and “adorns” for Pulmann’s “ornetque” (and let [him] adorn) in place of other editions’ “oneretque” (and let [him] load; book 3, meter 3, line 3). Her renderings of misprints in Pulmann’s 1562 edition include the strange “sick men’s paleness” for Pulmann’s “aegrotumque pulchritudo” (the beauty of sick men), which should read “agrorum pulchritudo” (the beauty of fields; book 2, prose 5); the selfcontradictory “mildness of such an arrogancy” for Pulmann’s “huiusmodi arrogantiae lenitate,” which should read “huiusmodi arrogantiae levitate” (the triviality of this kind of arrogance; book 2, prose 7); “is showed” for Pulmann’s “revelatur,” which should read “relevatur” (is relieved; book 4, prose 4); “we must use” for Pulmann’s “utendumque,” which should read “verendumque” (it must be feared; book 5, prose 1); and “Lest” for Pulmann’s “Ne,” which should read “En” (behold; book 5, prose 3). In some cases where she recognized that Pulmann’s text must be in error, Elizabeth did her best to make sense of the passage. In prose 2 of book 4, Boethius describes frail men who “obluctari vitio nequeunt” (are unable to struggle against vice). In the one major misprint not corrected in his second edition, Pulmann nonsensically reads “oblectari vitio nequeunt” (are unable to be delighted by vice). Reasonably assuming that a “non” had been omitted from a double negative construction (are unable not to be delighted), Elizabeth renders “in vice be delighted.” Her handling of Boethius’s ten brief passages in Greek shed light not only on the character of her source text but also on her translation practices. These Greek passages appear in highly corrupt Latin renditions in Boethius editions through the first two decades of the sixteenth century. Pulmann’s 1562 edition is the earliest, among those we have consulted, in which Boethius’s Greek appears, despite many errors, in versions close to those of modern editions. Elizabeth clearly renders the now accepted version of a Pythagorean saying in book 1, prose 4 that is correctly quoted only in Pulmann and the Basel edition of 1570, among those we have consulted. She also clearly renders the versions of three other Greek passages in Pulmann and the Basel edition of 1570 that are much closer to modern editions than the versions in preced-

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ing editions: these include the Homeric quotations in book 1, prose 5 and book 4, prose 6 and the Neoplatonic quotation in book 4, prose 6. Although Pulmann provides literal Latin translations of the Greek in an appendix at the end of the volume, Elizabeth’s renderings suggest that she translated directly from the Greek without consulting these. Her translations of Greek are generally accurate. However, in a quotation from an unknown Neoplatonic text in book 4, prose 6, her “do inhabit” evidently arose from confusing “οἰκοδομοῦσι” (they build) with “οἰκοῦσι” (they inhabit). This confusion would presumably not have arisen if Elizabeth had consulted Pulmann’s Latin version, which gives “aedificavere” (they have built) from “aedificare,” whose cognate “to edify” was often used in the sixteenth century in its sense of ‘to build.’ On the whole, her translations of Boethius’s Greek suggest that her youthful studies under Ascham had equipped her, in the 1590s, with a limited but genuine knowledge of the other—and by the standards of the day, the far more arcane—classical language. In this as in so much else, her self-reliant proceeding again highlights her nonscholarly approach to translation, which, as far as we have been able to determine, never extended to consulting endnotes or appendices in any of the Renaissance editions that she used.

* Elizabeth approached with special attention the varied and accomplished lyrics interspersed in Boethius’s Consolation. Although she began early on to dictate her translations of the prose sections to Windebank, he was manifestly under instructions to leave space for her to insert her verse translations of the Meters in her own hand. These portions of the manuscript are dark with her deletions, insertions, and recastings. Elizabeth’s original English verse adopts metrical forms and conventions typical of much plain-style verse of the mid-sixteenth century.20 She reveals the continuing influence of this mode when she intermittently adds alliteration in translating Boethius’s lyrics: “in steady step yet never stood” (book 1, meter 1, line 22); “Boreas’ blasts bereaves” 20. On mid-sixteenth-century plain-style verse, see Yvor Winters, Forms of Discovery (Chicago: Swallow, 1969), 1–29; and Wesley Trimpi, Ben Jonson’s Poems: A Study in the Plain Style (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1962), 115–27.

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(book 1, meter 5, line 19); “fruitfull’st field . . . / First freed of fruit” (book 3, meter 1, lines 1–2); “dear danger digged,” the last example heightening the effect of its original, “pretiosa pericula fodit” (book 2, meter 5, line 30). Yet her verse translations, first of Boethius, later of Plutarch and Horace, are strikingly atypical of mid-sixteenth-century compositional practice in employing line units of freely varying lengths and complex iambic patterning, without end rhyme. Such lines have proved difficult for some readers to perceive as verse rather than lineated prose. We contend, however, that the experimental character of Elizabeth’s late verse translations, at their most successful, constitutes a sensitive response to her source texts and to her contemporaries’ expectations regarding English iambic verse. Elizabeth’s avoidance of rhyme is most easily accounted for. The time constraints under which she worked would have virtually precluded adding rhyme to the challenges she confronted in closely rendering the meaning and phrasing of her source texts, her first priority, in expressive English verse. Yet the positive rationale is more suggestive: in excluding rhyme Elizabeth adheres to her classical Latin models, which themselves are unrhymed.21 Her tutor Ascham had challenged English writers to perfect English verse in the manner of Horace and Virgil by practicing “true versifying” instead of following “the Goths in riming.”22 Throughout her reign other writers championed the imitation of classical prosody as part of a general program of eradicating “barbarous” vestiges of medievalism and reforming English culture along classical lines.23 Although rhymed verse, the mode of Elizabeth’s original English compositions, triumphed at court and elsewhere, her translations combine native and classical elements in a stress-based (or accentual) iambic prosody and unrhymed line units. Like other poets of the period, notably Philip Sidney and Edmund Spenser, who experimented with imitating classical meters while advancing native modes, she bridged the two sides of a literary-cultural debate. Unlike some contemporaries who attempted to compose English verse in classical quantitative meters—rhythmical patterns based on 21. Elizabeth wrote Latin epigrams in an exchange with the German humanist Paul Melissus (“Grata camena tua est, gratissima dona, Melisse”) in the late 1570s; see ACFLO, 150–51. 22. Ascham, The Schoolmaster, ed. Ryan, 145. 23. See Richard Helgerson, Forms of Nationhood: The Elizabethan Writing of England (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 25–40.

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rules regarding “long” and “short” syllables that have no ready application in English—Elizabeth appears unconcerned with quantity in either her Latin sources or her English renderings. She makes no attempt to reproduce Boethius’s array of quantitative meters: twenty-eight different patterns, used either for single line units or for pairs. On occasion she misconstrues a Latin word by not attending to the metrical quantities of its syllables.24 Her indifference to considerations of syllable quantity in Latin indicates that Ascham did not impose on her the formal studies in prosody that had advanced status in English grammar school and university training, despite the arbitrary assumptions and misconceptions with which the subjects of syllable quantity and word accent in both English and Latin were riddled.25 Elizabeth aims, nevertheless, to approximate Boethius’s formal effects in any given poem by using variable line lengths in response to his and by matching or closely approximating the number of her lines to his.26 While she could artfully deploy Latinate suspended syntax where a major unit of sentence structure, say, a subject or main verb, is interrupted or postponed by the introduction of grammatically and semantically subordinate elements, she much preferred to compose in series of bounded—that is, grammatically complete—phrases and clauses.27 Overall, the objective of rendering a Latin sentence as a linear succession

24. Elizabeth probably construes “occidit” in 3.12.5 with a long medial i (killed) rather than a metrically required short i (was undone, was ruined). She construes “hic” in 4.1.19 with a long i (here) rather than with a metrically required short i (he). Like many Renaissance editions of Boethius, Pulmann’s edition of 1562 provided a metrical scheme for each poem in an appendix, but Elizabeth probably did not consult this feature of her source. 25. See Derek Attridge, Well-Weighed Syllables: Elizabethan Verse in Classical Metres (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), chaps. 1–5. 26. Elizabeth’s lines correspond in number to Boethius’s in twenty out of thirty-nine poems; in twelve more poems—with one discrepancy, the probable result of eyeskip— her versions differ in number by only one line; and in five more poems, the difference in number is two lines. 27. In seven poems, Elizabeth provides an ornamental flourish by tapering the final line in a fashionable triangular close like those found in several of her youthful prose translations. Despite the visual effect, these final lines retain their integrity as single, syntactically bounded metrical units. See our original-spelling versions of book 2, meters 1, 4, and 8; book 3, meters 8 and 9; book 4, meter 7; and book 5, meter 5. As will be observed in these examples, Elizabeth marks most but not all of her tapered final lines with virgules. Compare the endings of our original-spelling versions of Elizabeth’s translations of Marguerite and Ochino and her dedicatory letter to her Calvin translation, Elizabeth I: Translations, 1544–1589, 124, 218, and 326.

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of intact phrasal and clausal units of English gives shape to Elizabeth’s verse translations. Boethius’s lyrics are either stichic, that is, composed in units of single lines with one metrical pattern throughout, or composed in twoline units (distichs) with alternating metrical patterns. Of his sixteen poems in distichs, Elizabeth, with occasional inconsistencies, translates thirteen as a series of paired lines with the second line indented.28 Since Boethius’s distichs typically constitute syntactic as well as metrical units, she adapts his syntactic structures to her unrhymed couplets, placing a major phrase or clause boundary at the end of the second line of each verse unit.29 A distilled lyricism emerges from these renderings of paired lines as syntactic-semantic wholes. In the opening of book 3, meter 6, for example, Elizabeth sustains the artful simplicity of Boethius’s lines: Omne hominum genus in terris Simili surgit ab ortu. Unus enim rerum pater est, Unus cuncta ministrat.

All humankind on earth From like beginning comes; One Father is of all, One only, all doth guide.

In Renaissance editions, this poem is printed as distichs with alternating longer and shorter lines (dactylic tetrameters and ionic dimeters).30 Elizabeth follows Boethius by rendering each distich as a sentence. Although she does not seek to replicate his meters, her sequence of sixsyllable iambic lines conveys the compressed phrasing of the Latin original while enforcing its theme of sameness—“one” God as the source of “all”—through rhythmic uniformity.

28. See meters 1.1, 1.3, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4, 2.7, 3.3, 3.4, 3.6, 3.8, 4.1, 4.2, and 4.4. Elizabeth’s lack of concern for metrical quantity probably led her to regard as stichic two of the remaining three lyrics in distichs. Pulmann does not mark these two lyrics as distichs with alternating indented lines, and their alternating lines do not differ in syllable count: book 3, meter 10 alternates two different metrical patterns of eleven syllables; book 4, meter 5 alternates two different metrical patterns of either ten or eleven syllables. Pulmann marks all the other distich poems with indentation except for 1.3, where alternating lines of greatly differing length make the distich pattern immediately perceptible. 29. In rendering Boethius’s distichic meter 1 of book 5, Elizabeth does not indent the second line of each verse unit. She does, however, labor to sustain the lyric’s serial syntactic-semantic pairings. 30. Modern editions print this meter as nine long lines combining the two metrical schemes rather than nine short-lined distichs.

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Again with occasional inconsistencies, Elizabeth lays out ten of Boethius’s twenty-three stichic lyrics in pairs of alternating indented lines. In five of these lyrics her pairs of lines do not correspond closely to major syntactic units, and her indented format seems merely to be a marker of verse composition. The other five lyrics, however, follow Boethius’s own tendency, even in stichic verse, to compose in two-line syntactic units, with the second line more heavily end-stopped.31 Yet while she often provides the end of a second line of a verse unit with a pronounced syntactic break in translating lyrics composed in distichs, Elizabeth’s primary compositional unit in her verse translations of Boethius, as well as Plutarch and Horace, is the individual line. In all these translations her method for giving shape to individual lines is to correlate their endings with major phrase boundaries—noun phrases, verb phrases, adverbial phrases, prepositional phrases—so that in the vast majority of instances the linguistic material receives at least a local rounding-out and resolution by line end. In the opening of meter 6 of book 3, cited above, Elizabeth can render Boethius line for line and still ensure that the first line of each couplet, while part of a longer sentence, has its own syntactic closure: “All humankind on earth,” “One Father is of all.” Elsewhere, however, composing such bounded lines requires her to modify and rearrange Boethius’s syntax. In book 1, meter 2, for example, she moves the enjambed “Autumnus” in order to turn “Quis dedit ut pleno fertilis anno / Autumnus” into the bounded line “Who made the fertile autumn, at fullness of the year” (17); at the end of meter 1 of book 2, she reshapes the syntax to turn “si quis / visatur una stratus ac felix hora” into “If any man you view, one hour / Both thralls him and extols” (9–10). Deviating from the metronomic regularity of much mid-sixteenthcentury verse, Elizabeth generally adheres to more flexible norms for assuring the perception of her lines as iambic.32 In iambic meter, the rhythmic imperative tends to be less in force toward the beginning of the line, more in force toward the end. Elizabeth uses both unactual31. The “visual” distichs are 1.2, 2.5, 2.6, 2.8, and 3.2; the “syntactic” distichs are 1.4, 2.1, 3.1, 3.5, and 3.7. 32. Among Elizabeth’s contemporaries, Sidney provides the closest analogue; on Sidney’s metrical flexibility, see John Thompson, The Founding of English Metre (New York: Columbia University Press, 1966), 139–55. For a more detailed analysis of unrhymed iambic “verse design,” see Janel Mueller, “Just Measures? Versification in Samson Agonistes,” Milton Studies 33 (1996): 47–82.

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ized stresses and stress inversion to alleviate mechanical patterning. Stress inversion is especially frequent at the beginning of her iambic lines. There, but also at later junctures in a line, she frequently employs inversion and then reaffirms the iambic meter in the next pair of syllables, as in “My wretched life thankless abode protracts” (book 1, meter 1, line 20). Two formal constraints attach to stress inversion in iambic meter. One precludes stress inversion from occurring in the final pair of syllables in a line because there is no following foot to affirm the meter of the line; the other precludes two successive stress inversions within a line because the meter cannot be righted immediately after the first inversion. Nevertheless, in her verse translations of Boethius, Elizabeth occasionally avails herself of these deviations from metrical norms, usually for thematic or tonal emphasis.33 Stress inversions in the final positions of a line (indicated by italics) include “Whoso, with headlong mind, glory” (book 2, meter 7, line 1) and “And with dulce suit, pardon” (book 3, meter 12, line 27). Double stress inversions include “Blessèd Death, that in sweetest years refrains” (book 1, meter 1, line 13) and “Shines out, and with his sudden light, Phoebus shaken” (book 1, meter 3, line 9). Of a total of 890 lines, there are 494 unambiguously iambic lines ranging across a spectrum of six syllables (180 lines), eight syllables (170 lines), and ten syllables (86 lines), with respective endpoints of four syllables (32 lines) and twelve syllables (25 lines), and one exceptional fourteen-syllable line. While the varying length of her lines is the most unusual feature of Elizabeth’s verse—a feature otherwise not prominent in English iambic verse until the seventeenth-century experiments of Richard Crashaw, John Milton, and Abraham Cowley— the preponderance of six- and eight-syllable lines in her Boethius translations suggests that she nevertheless derived her conceptual prototype from native verse forms. Her six- and eight-syllable lines are recognizable counterparts of the subunits of two closely related, insistently iambic meters widely employed in mid-sixteenth-century English verse: fourteeners (rhymed couplets of fourteen syllables or seven

33. There are thirteen instances of stress inversion in the last foot of a line (1.2.18; 1.3.9; 2.4.18; 2.7.1; 2.8.23; 2.8.24; 3.2.4; 3.12.27; 3.12.45; 4.1.12; 4.3.4; 4.5.7; 4.6.10); three of these are among the six instances of two successive stress inversions (1.1.13; 1.2.18; 1.3.9; 2.8.23; 4.6.10; 5.4.4).

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iambic feet) and poulter’s measure (rhymed couplets consisting of alternating lines of twelve and fourteen syllables, or six and seven iambic feet).34 The standard features in these two meters of end-stopping the line and of an emphatic caesura at or near the line’s midpoint fostered the hearing, writing, and printing of these verses as pairs of bounded, short-lined units composed of six syllables (three iambic feet) and eight syllables (four iambic feet) nested within the long-lined units. In Elizabeth’s translation 158 lines (over a sixth of the total) can be resolved into iambic rhythm through metrical contraction or expansion, or both (in four lines).35 Both prosodic operations require that 34. The latter is the meter adapted by Elizabeth to stanzaic composition in her most famous poem, “The Doubt of Future Foes” (ca. 1571); see CW, 133–34. 35. While metrical resolution ordinarily produces lines with an even number of syllables, in twenty-six instances the resulting lines are headless or feminine. Metrical contraction is applicable in 132 lines: 1.1.14 (t’ th’); 1.1.21 (s’oft or you’hap-); 1.2.3 (driv’n); 1.2.8 (circl’s); 1.2.9 (t’know); 1.2.11 (spir’t); 1.2.14 (Who’that); 1.2.16 (aut’mn); 1.2.17 (swoll’n); 1.3.1 (o’erblown); 1.3.3 (heav’ns); 1.3.5 (heav’ns); 1.3.8 (th’hid-); 1.4.16 (stable’ and); 1.4.18 (he’s); 1.5.1 (-m’r’of); 1.5.3 (heav’ns turn’st); 1.5.4 (-pell’st); 1.5.10 (-ing’of); 1.5.12 (Luc’fer, Phoeb’s); 1.5.14 (fall’n); 1.5.15 (short’r); 1.5.17 (-d’st); 1.5.20 (Zeph’rus); 1.5.27 (Guid’r); 1.5.35 (lurk’th); 1.5.40 (might’est); 1.5.46 (guid’st); 1.6.8 (vi’lets, gath’r); 1.7.9 (clear’st); 1.7.10 (wat’r); 1.7.29 (Cloudy’is); 2.1.2 (Eur’pus); 2.2.6 (-ty’with); 2.2.10 (lib’ral); 2.3.1 (Phoeb’s); 2.3.6 (with’th’); 2.3.7 (blust’ring); 2.3.14 (-ny’it—“y-glide”); 2.4.6 (threat’ning); 2.4.14 (-nt’st); 2.4.15 (-memb’r); 2.6.2 (-ty’nd—“y-glide”); 2.6.5 (o’erviewed); 2.6.7 (-mer’of); 2.6.9 (Ev’n); 2.6.11 (o’erlooks); 2.7.3 (-t’rs’of; heav’ns); 2.7.6 (-dy’de-); 2.7.10 (op’n); 2.8.4 (Phoeb’s); 2.8.7 (Hesp’rus); 2.8.14 (heav’ns); 2.8.28 (heav’n); 3.1.1 (-f ’l’st); 3.1.7 (Luc’fer); 3.2.3 (prov’dent); 3.2.5 (shrill’st); 3.2.11 (cour’ge); 3.2.14 (fur’ous— “y-glide”); 3.2.17 (holl’w); 3.2.24 (sorr’wing); 3.2.30 (Hesp’rus); 3.2.36 (t’end); 3.4.5 (wick’d); 3.4.6 (rev’rend); 3.4.8 (-d’st); 3.5.7 (utt’most); 3.6.8 (heav’n); 3.8.2 (ign’rance); 3.8.9 (in’th’); 3.8.10 (riv’r’ve); 3.8.20 (Ev’n); 3.8.21 (Tru’st); 3.9.1 (rul’st); 3.9.2 (heav’n, Fram’r); 3.9.3 (bidd’st, -dy’all—“y-glide”); 3.9.8 (-li’st, mind’st); 3.9.9 (-ct’st th’); 3.9.13 (spir’t); 3.9.15 (into’a-); 3.9.18 (heav’n); 3.9.21 (spir’ts); 3.9.22 (heav’n); 3.9.24 (mak’st); 3.9.25 (Fath’r); 3.9.27 (o’this); 3.9.29 (qui’t); 3.10.7 (glitt’ring); 3.10.8 (Ind’an—“y-glide”); 3.10.9 (clear’st); 3.10.14 (heav’n); 3.10.16 (he’who);3.11.10 (carry’ng—“y-glide”); 3.12.6 (fun’rals); 3.12.8 (wav’ring); 3.12.14 (th’in-); 3.12.23 (great’st); 3.12.33 (Sorr’wing); 4.1.19 (scept’r); 4.1.23 (-ther’if); 4.1.26 (-ll’I); 4.2.3 (Flour’shing); 4.2.4 (Envir’n’d); 4.3.17 (evils to ills); 4.3.24 (chos’n); 4.4.1 (-ts’t); 4.5.6 (heav’ns); 4.5.15 (hard’ned); 4.6.1 (thund’ring); 4.6.3 (heav’n); 4.6.10 (ne’er); 4.6.17 (Th’ eternal); 4.6.19 (el’ments); 4.6.26 (flow’ring); 4.6.39 (wand’ring); 4.7.2 (Phryg’ns); 4.7.9 (Pol’phe-); 4.7.13 (Herc’les); 4.7.30 (heav’n); 4.7.31 (high’st); 4.7.33 (d’you); 4.7.34 (Th’Earth, heav’n); 5.1.3 (-t’s’rise); 5.1.11 (slack’ning); 5.2.1 (Phoeb’s); 5.3.3 (-gl’agree); 5.3.15 (wish’th); 5.3.28 (-t’r); 5.4.3 (im’ge); 5.4.22 (gath’ring); 5.4.25 (-t’ier); 5.4.26 (mater’ial—“y-glide”). Metrical expansion is applicable in 56 lines: 1.1.12 (loosèd); 1.1.13 (blessèd); 1.1.17 (guilëful); 1.2.1 (drownèd); 1.2.4 (usèd); 1.2.20 (bruisèd); 1.2.21 (A-bowèd); 1.4.5 (seä’s); 1.4.8 (burstës); 1.5.7 (moön); 1.5.25 (assurèd); 1.6.7 (deckèd); 2.1.6 (spitëful); 2.2.2 (stirrèd); 2.2.15 (reïns); 2.3.3 (dimmèd); 2.3.13 (worldës);

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their results be pronounceable.36 Contraction involves eliding or slurring together two syllables. Contraction applies most often in polysyllabic words—e.g., “dividest” to “divid’st” (book 1, meter 5, line 17); “Polyphemus” to “Pol’phemus” (book 4, meter 7, line 9)—and to lightly stressed syllables in adjacent words: e.g., “so oft” to “s’oft” (book 1, meter 1, line 21); “city and” to “city’nd” (book 2, meter 6, line 2—an option informally called “y-glide”). Expansion involves voicing one syllable of a word as two syllables by a slight stylizing of natural pronunciation. Elizabeth uses expansion most often with voiced past tense verbs and past participles in “-ed,” e.g., “dimmèd” (book 2, meter 3, line 3), but also with single vowel sounds that can easily be prolonged into disyllables (notated here with umlauts), such as “seä’s” (book 1, meter 4, line 5). In “And with what bounds the great heaven thou guidest” (book 1, meter 5, line 46), contraction of “guid’st” resolves the line into iambic pentameter; in “But greedy-getting love burns” (book 2, meter 5, line 25), expansion of “lovë” yields an eight-syllable iambic line. Further compositional flexibility is available at either end of an iambic line. “Headless” lines lack a syllable in the first, weak-stress position, while “feminine” lines append an extra syllable in last position, which in most instances bears weak stress. Headlessness and feminine endings are almost always mutually exclusive in an iambic line, because the result of combining them would be indistinguishable from a trochaic line. Elizabeth makes surprisingly heavy use of one or the other option: 148 lines are headless; 70 lines have feminine endings, among which four show the further irregularity of a strongly stressed syllable in the feminine position.37 “Where true woeful verse my face with dole

2.4.22 (skÿ’s); 2.5.25 (lovë); 2.6.2 (flamèd); 2.6.12 (Nörth); 2.7.10 (tongües); 2.7.11 (greät); 2.8.3 (seëds); 3.1.5 (fliës); 3.1.6 (f ïrst); 3.1.9 (falsèd); 3.2.3 (Wörld, lawës); 3.2.10 (dyèd); 3.2.34 (rejoïce); 3.6.10 (Fetchèd); 3.7.3 (wingèd); 3.9.4 (forcèd); 3.9.5 (substancë); 3.9.12 (drownèd); 3.10.12 (pleasèd); 3.11.13 (askèd); 3.12.6 (wifë’s); 3.12.30 (amazèd); 3.12.34 (Ixionë’s); 3.12.39 (tearèd); 4.2.13 (stirrèd); 4.3.7 (charmèd); 4.3.10 (boär’s); 4.3.19 (besiegèd); 4.4.4 (wingèd); 4.5.7 (fullèd); 4.6.16 (interlacèd); 4.7.8 (wailèd); 4.7.24 (shamèd); 5.1.8 (mixèd); 5.3.8 (overwhelmèd); 5.3.13 (strivës); 5.4.32 (stirrèd); 5.4.33 (figurës); 5.5.9 (dullèd). 36. Some words in early modern English still bore the stamp of their previous stress assignments in Middle English or in the Latin or French from which they were borrowed. Elizabeth’s translation contains two instances: “compáss” (2.7.6) and “résist” (5.2.7). 37. The 148 headless lines are 1.1.4, 5; 1.2.7, 13, 19; 1.4.11, 12, 13, 18; 1.5.5, 6, 9, 20, 24, 34, 35, 36, 38; 1.6.6, 8, 18, 19, 22; 1.7.4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14, 17, 19, 23, 26, 27, 31; 2.2.5, 9, 19; 2.3.4, 10, 16; 2.4.2, 4, 9, 10, 13, 16, 17, 18; 2.5.4, 10, 16, 19, 30; 2.6.8, 12; 2.7.10, 15, 17, 21, 25; 2.8.12, 16, 21; 3.2.2, 6, 12, 21, 27, 31, 32, 37; 3.3.1; 3.5.6, 8, 10; 3.6.14, 16, 17; 3.7.1, 6; 3.8.1, 16, 18; 3.10.2, 17; 3.11.4, 7; 3.12.4,

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bedews” (book 1, meter 1, line 4) exemplifies a headless line. “Of ireful gods complaining” (book 3, meter 12, line 18) exemplifies a feminine line ending. “And higher hies than Earth’s globe” (book 4, meter 1, line 5) exemplifies a feminine ending with a strongly stressed syllable. Two of Elizabeth’s three instances of the meter-breaking combination of headlessness and a feminine ending rhythmically enact the tyrant Nero’s lawless excess, even as they decry it: Turn the rage of frantic Nero (book 2, meter 6, line 15) Hated yet of all, lived Nero (book 3, meter 4, line 3)

The third instance, decrying Fortune’s “turns” against good men, also seems rhythmically mimetic: “Turns doth make? Oppressing faultless” (book 1, meter 5, line 29). There are only seventeen lines in Elizabeth’s Boethius translations, set off as such in her own handwriting, that lack a major phrase boundary at line end.38 These lines need not be treated as aberrations showing 7, 15, 17, 22, 36, 40, 44, 49; 4.1.15, 19, 29; 4.2.6, 10, 11, 14, 16; 4.3.13, 17, 20, 28, 32; 4.4.10, 11; 4.5.5; 4.6.4, 7, 8, 21, 22, 27, 29, 31, 32, 33, 35; 4.7.4, 13, 19, 22, 24, 31; 5.1.1, 4; 5.3.9, 16, 17; 5.4.5, 15, 18, 19, 23, 26, 29, 33; 5.5.1, 2, 4, 6, 10. The 70 lines with feminine endings are 1.2.12, 14, 21; 1.3.1; 1.4.3, 15; 1.5.1, 2, 13, 28, 47; 1.6.4, 14; 2.1.4; 2.2.8,10, 17, 20; 2.3.3, 6; 2.4.3, 20; 2.5.5; 2.6.7; 2.7.12, 16; 3.2.1; 3.4.6; 3.5.12; 3.6.15; 3.8.11, 14; 3.9.14, 16; 3.10.8, 12; 3.11.12, 14, 17; 3.12.3, 6, 18, 29, 46; 4.1.4, 5, 24, 25, 27; 4.2.8; 4.3.10, 15, 19, 21; 4.4.7, 9; 4.5.9; 4.6.10, 18, 19, 20, 30, 38, 46; 4.7.17, 18; 5.1.10; 5.2.5, 7; 5.4.9. The four feminine lines with strong stress in the feminine position are 1.5.2; 2.2.17; 3.12.46; 4.1.5. 38. The seventeen lines include 1.7.9 (Like the clearest / Days); 2.4.1 (Who lasting will / Wary, settle seat); 2.4.3 (And stable, not of roaring / Eurus’ blasts); 2.6.6 (No tears bedews his face, but was / A doomer); 3.2.2 (Nature powerful, by which the great / World); 3.2.4 (And tying, strains with unloosing / Knot); 3.2.7 (Though Afric lions fair / Gyves bear); 3.7.5 (Away they go and with sticking / Bite); 3.9.5–6, two successive lines (The work of sliding substance, but shape / Of greatest good that envy wants; Thou all / By highest sample); 3.12.3 (Happy, that can, of weighty / Earth); 3.12.14 (When ferventer desire th’ inward / Breast); 3.12.29 (Wonder doth the three-headed / Jailer); 4.6.1 (If, wary, alone, of thund’ring God the laws thou wilt / With purest mind behold); 4.6.20 (In equal sort: that striving / Moistures). 5.1.1 (Near the crags of Achaemians’ rock, where turned / To followers’ breasts); 5.3.28 (From high the seen draweth, that better he may / The parts forgot, the kept rejoin). One apparently straddled line in meter 1 of book 5 looks inadvertent. After translating all but the last word of Boethius’s line 1 in her own first line, Elizabeth began her second line by rendering the final word in his line 1, “sequentum,” as the fragmentary phrase “to followers’.” She then returned to her left margin to render Boethius’s line 2, “breasts the flying warrior darts doth throw,” leaving the preceding phrase “to followers’ ” stranded in isolation. Presumably she intended to close up this sequence to form her own line 2, “To followers’ breasts the flying warrior darts doth throw.” Such closing-up would

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the nonfinal state of her manuscript. Instead, they offer insights into the line types and line combinations that she found appropriate for translating Boethius’s verse, as well as how she arrived at these. In beginning to translate meter 4 of book 2, composed in distichs of alternating seven- to eight-syllable meters (catalectic iambic dimeters and pherecratics), she first wrote, “Who warily a lasting seat will settle”—a close rendering of the introductory clause, which Boethius disposes across his initial two lines: “Quisquis volet perennem / Cautus ponere sedem.” But she struck this through and revised: “Who lasting will / Wary, settle seat.” At first taking a full clause as her compositional unit, she then noticed that she had produced a line markedly out of proportion with Boethius’s compact verses. So in her revised lines 1–2, she emulates the aphoristic style of her source. More closely following Boethius’s word order (at the cost of clarity) and adopting his line division, she sacrifices the integrity of the verb phrase, straddling “will settle” across a line break. In lines 3–4, she similarly finds that imitating Boethius’s word order and line division requires her to sacrifice the integrity of the attributive phrase: “And stable, not of roaring / Eurus’ blasts be won.” In the poem’s remaining seventeen lines, however, Elizabeth hits her rhythmic and syntactic stride. She now rearranges the Latin syntax to reinstate her norm of individual lines of intact phrase units combined into more strongly end-stopped pairs. Thus “Et fluctibus minantem / Curat spernere pontum” (lines 5–6) becomes “And careth scorn [i.e., takes care to avoid] / The waves of threat’ning sea,” with the verb phrase “Curat spernere” and noun phrase “fluctibus minantem . . . / pontum” shifted to create intact units in both lines. She proceeds to render Boethius’s nuggets of wisdom in a mix of bounded, four- and six-syllable iambic lines evoking security and serenity, such as “Thou, happy placed in strength” (line 19). The monosyllables of Elizabeth’s final line declare pointedly how human vulnerability can be outfaced. She channels the sibilant Latin “Ridens aetheris iras” into sturdy English bravado: “And smile at sky’s wrath.” Meter 7 of book 1 strikingly illustrates Elizabeth’s efforts to render Boethius’s short-lined forms into compact verse units. Translating Boethius’s thirty-one lines with an equal number of her own, Elizabeth distills five-syllable adonics into a yet more condensed pattern of yield a grammatically complete line, of a length similar to those in the rest in her rendering of book 5, meter 1.

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two-syllable, three-syllable (headless), and four-syllable lines. She begins as follows: Nubibus atris Condita nullum Fundere possunt Sidera lumen.

Dim clouds Sky close, Light none Can afford. (1.7.1–4)

Elizabeth’s stark brevity occludes even the grammatical subject of “Can afford.” While the subject of Boethius’s clause is the cloud-hidden “stars” (sidera), her subject could be construed with varying degrees of plausibility as “clouds,” sky,” or “none” (neither clouds nor sky). With some compromises of clarity in several lines, Elizabeth proceeds to implement her strenuous metrical compression, translating Boethius’s thirty-one lines with an equal number of her own. In her extremely short lines of two to four syllables, twelve occurrences of headlessness produce a strong trochaic feel, but the absence of feminine endings ensures that the final foot is always a meter-affirming iamb. When Boethius turns to direct address, Elizabeth neatly renders his clipped maxims: Tu quoque si vis Lumine claro Cernere verum . . . Gaudia pelle, Pelle timorem Spemque fugato Nec dolor adsit.

Thou, if thou wilt In clearest light Truth behold . . . Chase joys, Repulse fear, Thrust out hope, Woe not retain. (1.7.20–22, 25–28)

The lyric narrative of Orpheus in the underworld in meter 12 of book 3 elicited a more venturesome rhythmical construct from Elizabeth. For this poem Boethius uses eight-syllable stichic glyconics, the most common meter in the Consolation.39 To render the lyrics in glyconic meter, she employs a range of shorter line lengths clustering around a six-syllable norm. In the Orpheus poem, Elizabeth does not consis-

39. Glyconics are used for one poem in each of the five books of the Consolation. The other four instances are book 1, meter 6; book 2, meter 8; book 4, meter 3; and book 5, meter 4.

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tently maintain her preference for individual line boundaries that coincide with syntactic boundaries. Deviations from her typical practice accumulate as she sacrifices phrase structure to render Boethius’s short lines: “Happy, that can of weighty / Earth, the bonds to break” (“Felix qui potuit gravis / Terrae solvere vincula” 3–4); “When ferventer desire th’inward / Breast more burnt” (“Cum flagrantior intima / Fervor pectoris ureret” 14–15); and “Wonder doth the three-headed / Jailer, amazèd with unwonted verse” (“Stupet tergeminus novo / Captus carmine ianitor” 29–30). These parallel efforts at condensation break down expressively at one key point. Line 30, with its ten syllables the longest in the poem, registers the literal lengths to which Elizabeth is drawn as she works to encompass Boethius’s telling of Orpheus’s story: the devastation brought on by botching one’s only chance to regain the greatest happiness one has known. The compact line units of Elizabeth’s translation encapsulate the brevity of moments of perception and understanding, on the one hand, and the brevity of occasions for constructive or decisive action, on the other. Rhythmical alternations produced by the interworkings of headless and feminine lines with meter-affirming, regular iambic lines expressively heighten the abrupt changes that engender Eurydice’s retrieval and loss. Although variations in line lengths and line types often seem random in Elizabeth’s translations of Boethius’s lyrics, meter 12 develops two respective sets of connotations for headless and feminine lines. Lines with feminine endings tend to connote accesses of emotion and their destabilizing psychological effects: for example, “His wife’s funerals wailing”; “Of ireful gods complaining” (6, 18). Headless lines are associated with decisive turns of action or thought such as “At last, wailing, said the judge”; “With this law, bound be the gift” (40, 44). These oscillations culminate in Elizabeth’s imitation of the starkly distributed grammar of two lines of Boethius—the first composed of nouns and a possessive adjective; the second, all verbs—that narrate the disastrous backward glance: Orpheus Eurydicen suam Vidit, perdidit, occidit.

Eurydice his, Orpheus Saw, lost, and killed. (3.12.50–51)

Thereafter, as she proceeds to render in regular iambic lines of six syllables Boethius’s seven concluding lines that rehearse the moral, Elizabeth conveys the poetic self-possession and the ethical self-mastery

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that she evidently experienced in finishing this translation. After its last line she added an epigraph, a personal comment that she permitted herself nowhere else: “Et sic, bene” (And thus, is well). While the possible meanings of this cryptic pronouncement are several, they probably include her own sense of her accomplishment. Although we have concentrated on the shorter iambic lines that preponderate in Elizabeth’s translations of Boethius, the next largest category, that of ten-syllable lines, demands some concluding notice. A particularly interesting instance is meter 9 of book 3, a magnificent hymn to the Creator-God of Plato’s Timaeus in dactylic hexameters, the meter of classical hymns as well as epic. While this rendering utilizes her typical mixture of line lengths, the norm is blank verse, to judge by the frequency of pentameters (fourteen out of thirty-one lines). Her opening sets this norm with seven lines of blank verse followed by a line that becomes, by metrical resolution, a hexameter: O qui perpetua mundum ratione gubernas Terrarum caelique sator qui tempus ab aevo Ire iubes stabilisque manens das cuncta moveri, Quem non externae pepulerunt fingere causae Materiae fluitantis opus, verum insita summi Forma boni livore carens, tu cuncta superno Ducis ab exemplo, pulchrum pulcherrimus ipse Mundum mente gerens similique in imagine formans O Thou, in lasting sort, the world that rulest, Of earth and heaven the Framer! Who time, from first, Biddest go, and stable-steady all else dost wheel; Whom outward causes forcèd not to form The work of sliding substance, but shape Of greatest good, that envy wants; Thou all By highest sample guides; the fairest, Thou The goodliest world, that mindest, and of like mold it made (3.9.1–8)

As is her usual practice, Elizabeth works to render each line of the Latin as both a sense unit and a verse unit in English. Her verses quickly reveal the tension produced by her efforts to compress these freely enjambed, six-foot dactylic lines into shorter, end-stopped pentameters. She resorts frequently to metrical contraction: “rul’st,” “heav’n,”

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“Fram’r,” “Bidd’st,” “steady’all,” “goodli’st,” “mind’st.” The most telling symptom of her compositional difficulty is a triple violation of her compositional preference. Three successive lines end without a major phrase boundary: the straddled noun phrase “shape / Of greatest good,” a first stranded pronoun, “Thou all / . . . guides,” and, immediately following, another stranded pronoun, “Thou / . . . mindest.” Yet even here Elizabeth’s deviations from her normal practice arguably enrich the verse by engaging in interplay with her norm of phrase boundaries at line ends. Both “Thou all” and “the fairest, Thou” look initially like complete, though elliptical predications. “Thou all” appears to invoke God as “all,” while “the fairest, Thou” appears as a complete ascription of praise, “Thou [art] the fairest.” Only the onset of the next line reveals that the syntax, in both cases, is incomplete at the line break. Considered overall, Elizabeth’s composition of blank verse in meter 9 of book 3 marks a suggestive transitional turn in her sensibility. In these eight lines, the gems of gnomic wisdom with which she most usually identified poetry yield to a more spacious, exalted mode for reverently addressing the Lord of the universe. The exercises in grandeur required of Elizabeth in translating Boethius’s longer-lined meters probably contributed to the late vein of magniloquence that manifests itself in her public prayers of the 1590s and her “Golden Speech” of 1601.40 40. See CW, 335–44, 425–27.

Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae, October-November, 1593 (original-spelling version)1 The Fyrst Booke fy[rst] Myter Verse ons Righmes that my groing studie ons perfourmed In tears alas cumpeld woful staues begin My muses torne behold what write I shuld indites Wher tru WofuL uerse my face with dole bedews Thes at Lest no terror might Constrain

[5]

1. Source: Kew, Surrey, The National Archives, State Papers, 12 / 289, fols.13r–57r, 64r– 83v. All Meters (unless noted otherwise) and some portions of prose sections (each noted locally) are in Elizabeth’s late, loosely formed italic hand. The remainder of the text is in two hands—predominantly a secretary hand, secondarily an italic hand—that show intermittent local revisions by Elizabeth. As a number of notes in our modern-spelling version document, the clerk evidently wrote at the queen’s dictation. R. E. G. Kirk identified him as Thomas Windebank, Clerk of the Privy Seal (or Signet) in 1598; see Caroline Pemberton, ed., Queen Elizabeth’s Englishings of Boethius, De consolatione philosophiae, A.D. 1593; Plutarch, De curiositate [1598]; Horace, De arte poetica (part) A.D. 1598, Early English Text Society, orig. ser. 113 (London, 1899), xi. There is an abortive fair copy—book 1, through the opening section of prose 3—on fols. 100r–102v, in the same format: verse in italic, prose in secretary hand. Because this fragment bears no trace of Elizabeth’s intervention, our copy text has greater authority. We record the few substantive variants in the fair copy in the notes to our modern-spelling version. For ease of reference, we have filled

Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius, De consolatione philosophiae, October-November 1593 (modern-spelling version) The First Book 1 Meter 1 Rhymes, that my growing study once performed;2 In tears, alas, compelled, woeful staves begin.3 My Muses torn (behold) what write I should, indite,4 Where true woeful verse my face with dole bedews.5 These, at least, no terror might constrain

5

out headings of Meters and prose sections in full and have numbered the lines of the lyrics in square brackets. 1. First Book Awaiting execution without trial for the treason and other offenses of which he has been accused, the imprisoned Boethius laments his recent fate. 2. growing . . . performed “quondam studio florente peregi” (once I accomplished with prospering eagerness). growing flourishing. study keen pleasure or interest in something; “studio.” The OED notes that in translations of Latin, “study” had a wide variety of early modern senses corresponding to its cognate “studium.” 3. compelled . . . begin compelled I am compelled. Elizabeth often omits subject pronouns and auxiliary verbs. staves verses; “modos” (verses). begin to begin. She often omits the infinitive marker “to.” 4. indite dictate; the subject is “Muses.” 5. true . . . dole true . . . verse “elegi,” the metrical form of meter 1, considered appropriate for lament. true In Boethius, “veris” modifies “fletibus” (with unfeigned tears) rather than “elegi.” dole grief, mourning, weeping.

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that felowes to our mone our Way they shuld refrain The glory ons, of happy griny2 Youthe Now, fates of grounting Age, my Comfort alL VnLookt for Age hied by mishaps is Come And Sorow bidz tr his my time to to add him WithaL Vnseasond hore heares Vpon my hed to ar poWrd And Lovsensd skin in feable body shakes blessed dethe that in switest yeres refraines but oft Calld Comes to the woful Wights O with how defe eare she Wrec from wretched Wries And Wailing Yees Cruel to shut denies. While Gileful fortune with Vading goodz did chire My life wel ny t the dolefuL houre bereued Whan her fals Looke a Cloude hath changed My wretched Life thankles abode protractz Why me so oft my frindz haue you happy cald Who fauleth downe in stedy step stode yet neuer yet stode

[10]

[15]

[20]

[1. Prose] While of aL this aLone in silence I bethoght me and tearesfuL Complaint in stiles office ment, Ouer my hed to stand a Woman did apeare Of stately face with flaming yees of insight aboue the Comun worth of men of fresche coulor and unWon strengh thogh yet so old she Wer that of Our age she seamed not be One her stature suche as skarse Could be desernd for sume While she skanted her to the Comen stature of men strait she semed With Crowne of hed the heauens to strike and lifting vp the same hiar the heauens them selues she enterd and begileding the sight of Lookars on her Wides the wer of 2. griny greeny. On Elizabeth’s idiosyncratic practice of spelling English ee (long e) with i, see ACFLO, xxiv–xxv. 6. our . . . refrain refrain from following the speaker’s path. 7. grunting . . . all grunting groaning. my . . . all you, the Muses, are all my comfort. 8. hied . . . withal hied hastened. bids . . . withal commands that his time be added to this. 9. Unseasoned Out-of-season, untimely; “Intempestivi.” 10. refrains holds back; “se nec . . . Inserit” (does not introduce herself). 11. wights human beings. 12. from . . . wries swerves from wretched [me]. wries swerves.

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That, fellows to our moan, our way they should refrain.6 The glory once of happy, greeny youth, Now Fates of grunting age, my comfort all.7 Unlooked-for Age, hied by mishaps, is come, And Sorrow bids his time to add withal;8 Unseasoned,9 hoary hairs upon my head are poured, And loosèd skin in feeble body shakes. Blessèd Death, that in sweetest years refrains,10 But, oft called, comes to the woeful wights;11 O with how deaf ear she from wretched, wries,12 And wailing eyes, cruel, to shut denies. While guileful Fortune with vading goods did cheer, My life well nigh the doleful hour bereaved;13 When her false look a cloud hath changed,14 My wretched life, thankless abode15 protracts. Why me so oft, my friends, have you happy called? Who falleth down, in steady step yet never stood.

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Prose 1 While of all this, alone in silence I bethought me, and tears-full complaint in style’s office meant,16 over my head to stand a woman did appear. Of stately face, with flaming eyes of insight above the common worth of men; of fresh color and unwon17 strength, though yet so old she were that of our age she seemed not be one. Her stature such as scarce could be discerned, for somewhile she scanted her to the common stature of men, straight18 she seemed with crown of head the heavens to strike; and lifting up the same higher, the heavens themselves she entered, beguiling19 the sight of lookers-on. 13. vading . . . bereaved vading fleeting; “levibus” (fickle). My . . . bereaved “Paene caput tristis merserat hora meum” (A sad hour nearly submerged my head). 14. When . . . changed “Nunc quia fallacem mutavit nubila vultum” (Now that cloudy [Fortune] has changed its false face). 15. thankless abode unwelcome delay. 16. tears-full . . . meant moaned my tearful lament with the service of a stylus. in . . . office “stili officio.” 17. unwon unvanquished; “inexhausti” (of limitless). 18. somewhile . . . straight “nunc . . . nunc” (at one time . . . at another). somewhile sometimes. scanted her diminished herself. straight immediately. 19. beguiling cheating, disappointing; “frustrabatur” (she eluded, disappointed).

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smalist thrides perfaict for fine workmanship and Lasting substance as after by her selfe I kneWe was by her handes aL Wroght Whose forme as to smoky Imagis Was is Wont a certain dimnis of Careles dispisid antiquitie ouerWhelmed Of thes wides in the Lowest skirtz Π in the Vpper side a Θ was reade aL Wro WoVen And betWine bothe lettars Ladar Wise certain steps Wer marked by Wiche from LoWest to hiest Element ascent ther Was Yet that selfe garment the handz of Violent men had torne and pices suche as get the Could aWay the stole Her right hand held a booke the Left a sceptar Who Whan she spied poetz musis sitting standing by my bed and to my teares inditing Wordes someWhat moued inflamed with Gloting yees Who sufferd quoth she thes stagis harlotz aproche this sik man Wiche not only Wold not ease his soroW With no remedies but with sWit Venom nourris them Thes the be that With baren affections thornes destroies the ful Eares of reasons fruitt, and mens mynds with diseases inVres not fries. but if a of Vane man, as W Vulgar Wontz, your alurements had depriVed me With Les grife had I borne hit for by suche, Our Worke had got no harme but this man haue you touched Whom Stoike and Academique study broght out, Get you aWay Sirenes swite til ende be seene to my musis LeVe him for Cure and helthe to this the Checked rabeL with Looke doWne Cast with Wo, with blusche Confessing shame, doleful out of doores the Went, but I Whose sisght3 droWned in teares Was dimed, Could not knoWe What she Was of so impreus imperius rule, and setteling my yees on ground, What she wold more do in Silence I attended, Than she draWing nar on my

3. sisght sight—an evident penslip. 20. weeds . . . smallest weeds garments. they were Windebank’s fair copy reads “she ware.” smallest thinnest, finest. 21. smoky . . . despised smoky images “fumosas imagines”—the smoke-blackened statues of family members in the atriums of Roman houses. of despised of disregarded; “neglectae” (of forgotten). 22. Π, Θ The Greek letters pi and theta respectively symbolize ‘praxis’ and ‘theoria,’ the practical and theoretical branches of philosophy. 23. self selfsame. 24. with . . . eyes with eyes looking askance; “torvis . . . luminibus” (with fierce eyes). 25. These . . . destroys . . . not frees Elizabeth often uses a singular verb in “-(e)s” with a plural subject, a practice found well into the seventeenth century (Manfred Görlach, Introduction to Early Modern English [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991], 89).

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Her weeds they were of smallest20 threads, perfect for fine workmanship and lasting substance as, after by herself I knew, was by her hands all wrought. Whose form, as to smoky images is wont, a certain dimness of despised21 antiquity overwhelmed. Of these weeds, in the lowest skirts Π, in the upper side a Θ,22 was read, all woven. And between both letters, ladder-wise, certain steps were marked, by which, from lowest to highest element, ascent there was. Yet that self 23 garment the hands of violent men had torn and pieces such as get they could, away they stole. Her right hand held a book, the left a scepter. Who, when she spied poets’ Muses standing by my bed, and to my tears inditing words, somewhat moved, inflamed with gloating eyes:24 “Who suffered,” quoth she, “these stage’s harlots approach this sick man, which not only would not ease his sorrow with no remedies, but with sweet venom nourish them? These they be, that with barren affections’ thorns destroys the full ears of reason’s fruit, and men’s minds with disease inures, not frees.25 But if of vain man, as vulgar wonts,26 your allurements had deprived me, with less grief had I borne it. For by such, our work had got no harm. But this man have you touched, whom Stoic and Academic study brought out.27 Get you away, Sirens, sweet till end be seen.28 To my Muses leave him for cure and health.” To this, the checked rabble,29 with look downcast with woe, with blush confessing shame, doleful out of doors they went. But I, whose sight, drowned in tears, was dimmed, could not know what she was, of so imperious rule; and settling my eyes on ground, what she would

26. vain . . . wonts vain foolish, thoughtless; “profanum” (uninitiated). as . . . wonts as the common people are wont to do; “uti vulgo solitum vobis” (as generally is customary with you [the Muses]). Elizabeth construes “vulgo” (generally) as if it were a form of “vulgus” (the common people) and ignores “vobis.” 27. Stoic . . . out Stoic . . . study “Eleaticis atque Academicis studiis” (Eleatic and Academic studies). The Eleatic and Stoic philosophical schools each had their Zeno figure, whom Elizabeth may have confused, thus substituting “Stoic” for “Eleatic.” Zeno of Elea (ca. 495–ca. 430 B.C.E.) propounded the famous paradoxes regarding motion. Zeno of Citium (ca. 335–ca. 263 B.C.E.) founded the Stoic school, teaching that the wise man should be free from passion, unmoved by joy or grief, and submissive to the law of nature. The Academics were skeptical successors (3rd–2nd centuries B.C.E.) of Plato in Athens. brought out produced, yielded, rendering Pulmann’s reading “enutritum” (brought up, reared). 28. sweet . . . seen “usque in exitium dulces” (sweet to the point of destruction). 29. the . . . rabble the Muses; “ille chorus . . . increpitus” (this company upbraided).

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bedsfite sat doWne and VeWing my Looke of heVy Woe and with my dole to the erthe throWne doWne, in Versis thes of my mynds pane Complaineth thus

2. Myter O in hoW hedLong deptht the drowned mind is dimd and Losing her Light her owne striues to run other to other darkenis turns as oft as driVen With erthely flawes the harmfuL care higher VpWard grows Wons4 Ons this man fre in open fild used to Vew the skies the skies to Vew of Rosely5 son the Light beheld [5] of frosy6 mone the pLanetz saw And What star elz runs runs her Wontid Cours bending by many CircLes this man had won by numbar to knoWe them alL [10] Yea Causis aL eache Whens roring Windz the seas perturbz acquainted with the spirit that rolles the stedy World And whi the star that falz to the Hisperias waters from his reddy spring roote dothe raise herself

4. Wons Once; “quondam.” 5. Rosely rosy; Elizabeth mistakenly deleted y while deleting her mistaken l. 6. frosy frosty—also the reading in Windebank’s fair copy. 30. complaineth A historical present; “conquesta est” (bewailed). 31. Meter 2 This poem refers to Boethius’s astronomical studies, which included a translation of a treatise by the second-century C.E. Greek astronomer Ptolemy. In Windebank’s fair copy, lines 1–4, l0–18 are divided at their midpoint (caesura) into six-foot or eight-foot units. 32. others’ darkness Elizabeth presumably construed “externas” in Boethius’s “externas . . . tenebras” (outer darkness) in the sense of ‘not belonging to the subject in question’ or ‘foreign.’ The darkness is the sign of the self ’s exile into otherness. 33. driv’n . . . upward driv’n . . . flaws Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “Terrenis quotiens flatibus acta” (As often as driven by earthbound gusts); modern editions read “aucta” (swollen) in place of “acta” (driven). flaws sudden bursts or squalls of wind. upward “in immensum” (to immense size). 34. ros[y] See n5 of our original-spelling text.

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more do, in silence I attended. Then she, drawing near, on my bed’s feet sat down. And viewing my look of heavy woe and with my dole to the earth thrown down, in verses these, of my mind’s pain, complaineth30 thus: Meter 2 31 Oh, in how headlong depth the drownèd mind is dimmed; And, losing light, her own, to others’ darkness32 turns, As oft as, driv’n with earthly flaws, the harmful care upward33 grows. Once this man, free in open field, usèd the skies to view: 5 Of ros[y]34 sun the light beheld, Of frosty moon the planets35 saw; And what star else runs her wonted course, Bending by many circles,36 this man had won By number to know37 them all, Yea, causes each: whence roaring winds the seas perturbs; 10 Acquainted with the spirit that rolls the steady world; And why the star that falls to the Hesperia’s waters From his reddy root38 doth raise herself;

35. Of . . . planets Boethius’s puzzling “gelidae sidera lunae” (the stars of the cold moon) probably refers to the stars that are observed near the moon. planets Latin “sidera” can refer to stars, planets, or the heavenly bodies or sky as a whole. 36. And . . . circles “Et quaecumque vagos stella recursus / Exercet varios flexa per orbes” (And whatever twisting planet sets in motion its wandering returns through its changing orbits). star Like Boethius’s “stella,” “star” can mean both a ‘star’ and a ‘planet.’ Boethius evidently refers to a planet, also known as a “stella vaga” or “wandering star,” which took its name from its apparently irregular movements across the sky. Elizabeth’s sense is unclear. her Omitted in Windebank’s fair copy. 37. had . . . know had succeeded in knowing. “Had won,” whose primary sense is ‘had succeeded in,’ has the added implication of ‘had conquered’ (in order to know). The double sense effectively renders “comprensam . . . . victor habebat” (as victor he comprehended). 38. star . . . root star the sun. Hesperia’s waters Western waters, where the sun sets; “hesperias . . . undas.” reddy root Elizabeth takes “ortus” in “rutilo . . . ab ortu” (from the ruddy East) in its sense of ‘origin’ rather than its contextually appropriate sense of ‘East,’ whence the sun rises.

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Who hit is that gives the springes mild houres that mildz ther temper that With rosy floures the erthe be decket [15] Who made the fertile Autumne at fuLlnis of the yere Abound with Grape aL SoLne7 with ripest fruits he that Was Wont Wonted to serche and find diuers cause and find sondry causes of hiden nature

doWne Lies of mindz Light bereued With brused Nek by oVerheuy Chaines With A bowed Lowe Looke by Waight bearyng driVen alas the Sely erthe alas to behold

[20]

[2.] Prose but fittar time quoth she for medecin than Complaint than fixing on me her stedy yees she art thou the same quoth she Who ons nourriched With my milke nourissed fed With our foode art groWen to strengh of manly mynd? On Whom we bestoWed suche weapons as if thou hadst not Cast aWay had saued the With invincible strengh, dost thou me knoWe? Whi art thou doum? is hit shame or Wondar makes the Silent? But Whan she spied me not only stiL but WoordLes and dum, on my brest gently Layd her hand Said. ther is no danger he is entered in a Lethargi a Commen diseace of mynd, distract. he hath a liteL forgotten himself easily his memory WyL retourne Whan first he hathe remembard me And that he may a litel Let us Wipe his yees ouerdimd With Cloude of erthely things thus speaking my yees floWing with teares folding her garment she dried Wiped dried 3. Myter than Night oVerbloWen the darkenis Left me and formar strengh vnto my yees retornd

7. SoLne swollen; “gravidis.” 39. Who Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “quis” (who); modern editions read “quid” (what). 40. Down . . . behold The final lines read thus in Windebank’s fair copy: “Down he is, of / mind’s light bereft / With bruised neck, by / overheavy chains / A-bowed low, look / by weight bearing / Driven, alas the / Seely earth behold.” seely mean, poor. behold to behold.

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Who39 that gives the spring’s mild hours their temper, That with rosy flowers the earth be decked; Who made the fertile autumn, at fullness of the year, Abound with grape, all swoll’n with ripest fruits. He, wonted to search and find sundry causes of hidden Nature, Down lies, of mind’s light bereaved, With bruisèd neck, by overheavy chains, A-bowèd-low look, by weight-bearing Driven, alas, the seely earth behold.40

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Prose 2 “But fitter time,” quoth she, “for medicine than complaint.” Then, fixing on me her steady eyes: “Art thou the same,” quoth she, “who once nourished with my milk, fed with our food, art grown to strength of manly mind? On whom we bestowed such weapons as, if thou hadst not cast away, had saved thee with invincible strength? Dost thou me know? Why art thou dumb? Is it shame or wonder makes thee silent?”41 But when she spied me not only still but wordless and dumb, on my breast gently laid her hand. Said:42 “There is no danger; he is entered in a lethargy, a common disease of mind distract. He hath a little forgotten himself. Easily43 his memory will return when first he hath remembered me. And, that he may, a little let us wipe his eyes overdimmed with cloud of earthly things.” Thus speaking, my eyes flowing with tears, folding her garment, she dried. Meter 3 Then night o’erblown,44 the darkness left me, And former strength unto my eyes returned.

41. silent Elizabeth does not translate Lady Philosophy’s following sentence: “mallem pudore, sed te, ut video, stupor oppressit” (I would prefer that it were with shame, but as I see, stupor overcomes you). 42. Said Windebank’s fair copy reads “and said.” 43. Easily Omitted in Windebank’s fair copy. 44. o’erblown “discussa” (dispersed).

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As Whan the heauens astound with hedLong wind and Pole amidst the Cloudy mistes The Son is hid and in the heauens aperes aperes no stars from hy the night on erthe is spred tThe same if boreas sent from his tracien den dothe strike and Opens the hiden day Shines out and With his Soudan Ligh Φebus8 shaken Withe his beams strikes aL Lokars On

[5]

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[3. Prose] No otherWise mistz of my O woe dissolued to heauen I reached and raised my mynd to knoWe my Curars face. than Whan on hir I rolled my yees and Loke Y I fixed my nurs I saw in Whose retired Romes in my Youthe I dweLt, And hoW quoth I art thou Come to the Solitarenis of our exile O maistres pedague9 of al Vertus fallen from the hiest step shalt thou With me be tormented to With falz Crimes, Shal I quoth she O skolar myne the Leue and not to ease thy burdain Wiche for my sake thou berest in easing thy Labor With feLoWing of thi paine hit il becumes Φilosoϕie to Leue alone an innocentz Way Shal I dread my none blame and as if any nouuelty had hapt shal I feare Now first you shall Ar you noW to knoWe how amonge Wicked folkes10

8. Ligh Φebus light Phoebus. Elizabeth spells the Greek name with her characteristic Greek phi. 9. maistres pedague “magistra” (mistress in sense of ‘woman in charge,’ ‘instructress’). This correction occurs near the end of the initial portion of the text that is entirely in Elizabeth’s hand. 10. folks From this point onward, Elizabeth’s clerk, Thomas Windebank, here writing an italic hand, takes down the remainder of the translation of prose 3 from Elizabeth’s dictation. 45. As . . . mists “Ut, cum praecipiti glomerantur sidera coro / Nimbosisque polus stetit imbribus” (As when bad weather is gathered by the swift Northwest wind / And the pole [clear, upper sky] is shrouded by storm clouds). heavens The contextual sense of Boethius’s “sidera” here is obscure, but probably refers, by metonymy, to bad weather; see Gruber, Kommentar zu Boethius, 101–2. astound astounded. 46. appears . . . stars Windebank’s fair copy reads “no stars appears.” 47. Boreas . . . den Boreas the North wind. Thracian den The cave of Aeolus, the god of the winds. Thrace is a region in northern Greece. 48. Shines . . . shaken And Phoebus the sun shines out, shaken with his own sudden light; “Emicat ac subito vibratus lumine Phoebus” (And Phoebus flashes out, suddenly glit-

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As when the heav’ns astound with headlong wind, And pole amidst the cloudy mists,45 The sun is hid, and in the heav’ns appears no stars:46 From high, the night on earth is spread. The same if Boreas, sent from his Thracian den,47 Doth strike and opens the hidden day. Shines out, and with his sudden light, Phoebus, shaken,48 With his beams strikes all lookers-on.

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Prose 3 No otherwise, mists of my woe dissolved, to heaven I reached, and raised my mind to know my curer’s face. Then, when on her I rolled my eyes, and look I fixed, my nurse I saw, in whose retired rooms in my youth I dwelt.49 “And how,” quoth I, “art thou come to the solitariness of our exile, O pedagogue of all virtues? Fallen from the highest step,50 shalt thou with me be tormented too with false crimes?” “Shall I,” quoth she, “O scholar mine, thee leave? And not to ease thy burden, which, for my sake thou bearest, in easing thy labor with fellowing51 of thy pain? It ill becomes Philosophy to leave alone an innocent’s way.52 Shall I dread mine own blame, and, as if any novelty53 had happed, shall I fear? Are you now to know54 how, among tering with light). Elizabeth construes “vibratus” in its passive sense of ‘shaken’ rather than in its contextually appropriate sense of ‘glittering.’ 49. nurse . . . dwelt nurse At this point Boethius names “nutricem meum . . . Philosophiam” (my nurse . . . [Lady] Philosophy). retired rooms “lares” (dwelling, home), defined in the Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) and Thomas Thomas’s 1587 Latin-English dictionary as a “private” dwelling. I dwelt Pulmann’s edition reads “versatus fueram” (I had passed my time—i.e., I had moved about) and gives as a marginal variant “obversatus,” the reading in modern editions. 50. Fallen . . . step “supero cardine delapsa” (flown down from the highest pole); “delapsa” can evoke a voluntary descent, as seems most appropriate here, or an involuntary fall, as Elizabeth construes it. step degree, rank. 51. fellowing sharing. 52. leave . . . way “incomitatum relinquerere iter innocentis” (to leave unaccompanied the path of an innocent). Windebank’s fair copy of book 1 ends at this point (fol. 102v). 53. novelty recent event of a new kind; “aliquid novum” (something new). 54. Are . . . know? Do you (only) now know? “Nunc enim primum censes” (Do you now suppose that this is the first time that . . . ?). Elizabeth does not translate “primum,” perhaps construing it alongside “nunc” with “censes” rather than with the subsequent clause.

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wisedom is assaild with many dangers? Haue we not wrestled with follies rashnes among the elder sorte afore olde our Platoes age and made therewith great battaile yea he aliue his master Socrates vniustely claymed the Victory of deathe when I was by: whose inheritance when after the Vulgar Epicurian and Stoick and all the rest for their parte11 each man for his part ment to bereaue me, who sundred, as in parte, of their pray, my garment though I resisted and exclaymed. for being the workmanship of myne own hande they plucking some ragges from it, supposing they were had all, departed from me. Among which, for that some prints of my garment appeared: folly supposing they were my familiars abused some of them with error of the vayne multitude. Though thou haste not knowen Anaxagoras flight nor Socrates Venim ne Zenos torment because they are stranger yet Cauni Senecae, Sorani thoug maist knowe for they are not couards nor of an vnhonored memory. Whom to their bane nothing els to their bane brought but that instructed with our conditions, they seamed Vnlike the Wickeds endeuors. Thou oughtest not therefore to Wonder if in the sea of Lyffe we be tossed with many a tempest rising, whose puprpose is this is chiefest to dislike the Wickedest. Whose army though it be great, ought to be despisd as whom no Guide rules, but hurled rashely with a dimme error which, if once setting battayle against vs should fortune to to preuayle: Our guide will drawe our troupes to castle, while they be busy to rauyne Vnproffitable baggage, and we from hye shall skorne them while they spoile that is Vyle, sure from the furious tumulte and saffe in such wise a trenche whether these foolish raueners may neuer attayne 11. for . . . parte In Elizabeth’s manuscripts, underlining is used to mark a phrase for revision—here, for deletion. 55. Yea . . . by This entire sentence is a question in Boethius. Socrates Condemned to death in 399 B.C.E. for introducing strange gods and corrupting the Athenian youth, Socrates, as reported in Plato’s Apology, chose death by drinking hemlock rather than the escape from execution that was offered to him. unjustly . . . death Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “iniuste victoriam mortis . . . promeruit” (unjustly merited the victory of death). Modern editions read “iniustae” for “iniuste” (merited the victory of an unjust death). 56. Anaxagoras’s . . . cowards Anaxagoras’s . . . torment The philosopher Anaxagoras fled Athens in fear of persecution ca. 450 B.C.E.; Zeno of Elea reportedly died while helping to rid his native city of a tyrant in the second half of the fifth century B.C.E. venom poison. strange foreign. Caniuses, Senecas, Soranuses Three pluralized examples of Stoic opposition to Roman emperors: Canius died under Caligula ca. 40 C.E., Seneca and

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wicked folks, Wisdom is assailed with many dangers? Have we not wrestled with Folly’s rashness among the elder sort afore our Plato’s age, and made therewith great battle? Yea, he alive, his master Socrates unjustly claimed the victory of death when I was by.55 Whose inheritance, when after the vulgar Epicurean and Stoic and all the rest, each man for his part meant to bereave me, sundered (as, in part of their prey) my garment, though I resisted and exclaimed: for, being the workmanship of mine own hand, they, plucking some rags from it (supposing they had all), departed from me. Among which, for that some prints of my garment appeared, Folly, supposing they were my familiars, abused some of them with error of the vain multitude. “Though thou hast not known Anaxagoras’s flight, nor Socrates’ venom, nor Zeno’s torment, because they are strange, yet Caniuses, Senecas, Soranuses thou mayst know, for they are not cowards56 nor of unhonored memory. Whom nothing else to their bane brought, but that, instructed with our conditions,57 they seemed unlike the wicked’s endeavors. Thou oughtest not, therefore, to wonder, if in the sea of life we be tossed with many a tempest rising, whose purpose is this, chiefest, to dislike58 the wickedest. Whose army, though it be great, ought to be despised, as whom no guide rules, but hurled rashly with a dim59 error. Which, if once setting battle against us, should fortune to prevail, our guide will draw our troops to castle while they be busy to raven60 unprofitable baggage. And we from high shall scorn them while they spoil that is vile, sure from the furious tumult and safe in such a trench61 whither these foolish raveners may never attain.”

Soranus under Nero in 65 and 68. Elizabeth uses Latin plurals; “Cauni” should be “Canii.” cowards A puzzling translation of “pervetusta” (very old). 57. instructed . . . conditions “nostris moribus instituti” (brought up in our [Lady Philosophy’s] ways). 58. whose . . . dislike whose we whose. dislike displease, annoy, offend. 59. rashly . . . dim rashly “temere.” Throughout, Elizabeth renders forms of Boethius’s “temerarius” and its cognates in the sense of ‘rash’ where the sense of ‘fortuitous, accidental’ is appropriate; see our introduction. dim Elizabeth’s addition. 60. to raven to seize forcibly or divide as spoil; “diripiendas” (plundering). 61. shall . . . trench shall scorn “inridemus” (we laugh at); Elizabeth perhaps mistook the present for the future tense. that that which, what (a common sixteenth-century usage). trench “vallo.” In addition to its current meaning, “trench” in early modern English could refer to a trench’s rampart. “Vallum” can signify various sorts of fortifications; the Biblotheca Eliotae’s first definition is “trenche.”

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4. Myter Who so quiet in setled Life proude fate kepes Vnder fote And stable defendzing eache fortune His chire vnWonn preserues him shal no rage nor Seas threates from depthe that hurles her fome Nor Wood VeseVus12 With holy pittz that burstz out his smoky fires Nor Way of flameing Sulϕar wont to strike the toWers hie cans moue Whi so muche Can Wretched men at fiers tirants Wondar forsles furious, Hope thou naugh ne feare disarmed thou may the poWreLes Ire but Who so quaking feares or Wische Not being stable and in his strengh DoWne falz his shild and changing his place That Huges the chaine he taks Whi by Wiche he is draWen

[5]

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4. Prose Knowest thou thou al and this and yet hast forgotten the? art thou the Ass to the Lute? heare and remembar If thou Looke for thy Curars 12. VeseVus Vesuvius. 62. defending . . . fortune “Fortunamque tuens utramque rectus” (stoutly beholding both sorts of Fortune). defending contending with, warding off. 63. cheer mien; mood; “vultum” (look). 64. Nor. . . pits “Nec ruptis quotiens vagus caminis / . . . Vesaevus” (Nor unsettled Vesuvius, however often breaking from its furnaces). wood enraged, mad. holey full of holes. pits excavations made in the earth for some industrial process—here, metal-working. 65. way . . . sulfur course of flaming lightning. 66. forceless, furious adjectives modifying “tyrants”; “sine viribus furentes” (raging without strength). 67. Disarm . . . may “exarmaveris” (you will have disarmed). 68. wishe[s] Elizabeth wrote “Wische,” an evident penslip. 69. in . . . strength “suique iuris” (subject to his own law—i.e., his own master). Elizabeth adapts a Biblical locution: Job 36:22 describes God “excelsus in sua fortitudine” (Vulgate) / “high in His strength” (Geneva Bible); Hosea 12:3 describes Jacob fighting “in sua fortitudine” (Vulgate) / “in his strength” (Geneva Bible).

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Meter 4 Whoso, quiet in settled life, Proud Fate keeps underfoot; And stable, defending each fortune,62 His cheer63 unwon preserves: Him shall no rage nor sea’s threats, From depth that hurls her foam, Nor wood Vesuvius with holey pits,64 That bursts out his smoky fires, Nor way of flaming sulfur,65 wont to strike The towers high, can move. Why so much can wretched men At fierce tyrants wonder: forceless, furious?66 Hope thou naught, nor fear; Disarm thou may67 the powerless’ ire; But whoso, quaking, fears or wishe[s],68 Not being stable and in his strength:69 Down falls his shield; and, changing place, Hugs the chain by which he’s drawn.70

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Prose 4 “Knowest thou all this, and yet hast forgotten thee?71 Art thou the ass to the lute?72 Hear, and remember.73 If thou look for thy curer’s aid, discover thy wound.”

70. Down . . . drawn “Abiecit clipeum locoque motus / Nectit qua valeat trahi catenam” (Throws down his shield, moved from his position, / And fastens the chain by which he can be led). Hugs . . . chain Delights in bondage. Elizabeth employs an English idiom close to the Latin image. 71. Knowest . . . thee? “Sentisne, inquit, haec atque animo inlabuntur tuo” (Have you understood this, she said, and has it penetrated your mind?). Elizabeth does not translate “inquit” (she said). At frequent junctures throughout her Boethius translation, she leaves untranslated “inquit,” “inquam” (I said), and analogous phrases by which Boethius marks the alternating course of the dialogue. hast . . . thee? have you forgotten? 72. ass . . . lute Pulmann’s edition reads “ὄνος πρὸς λύραν”—“the ass to the lyre,” a proverb coined by the comic poet Menander, used of a person who cannot appreciate higher things. 73. Hear . . . remember Elizabeth diverges far from her source, substituting two commands of her own for two Latin questions and two Greek commands as they appear in

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ayde discoVer thy Wound Than I gathering my mynd to his ful strengh, haue I yet nide of Warning hathe not the sowernis of Cruel fortune Ouertopt me by herself alone doth not the VeW of this place the moue Is not this the shop Wiche surist seat in alL my inward romes for the I chose me13 which by me oft sytting, of Science diuine and humain matters thou dispisest disputedst? was this thy habite? Was this thy Looke? when With the I serched natures secretes? When to me with Ruler thou discribedst the starres Wayes and framedst our woorkes and Wholle trade of lyfe after the trade of celestiall order Shall we receaue such rewardes for obeyeng the? When thou thy self this sentence paste of Platos Mouth, that happy Were those common Welthes if eyther Wisdom studiers ruled them, or their Rulers studi Wisdom imbraced. Thou by the self same mans Mouth didst teache that this Was the necessariest cause, of Wy for Wyse men to take the Rule rule the common Wellth, Leste that the raynes therof left to the Wicked and harmfull citizens might brede the plague and harme to good. This autoritie I folloWing, which of theym in and be thy secret leysure thou taughtest Me, made me Wish to tourne for Action of commvn Rule. God and thy self doo Witnes beare, Which he inspirde to Wyse Mens Mens myndes, that no care brought me to Magistrate Rule, but common care for all good Men. Whence greate and Vnappeased discorde with Wicked folkes I had, And that freedom that conscience libertie

Pulmann: “ ‘Quid fles, quid lacrimis manas?’ ‘ἐξαύδα, μή κεύθε νόῳ’ ” (“Why do you weep, why do you dissolve in tears?” “Speak out; do not hide it in your mind”). The (misaccented) Greek is from Homer Iliad 1.363. She may have had a gospel analogue in mind. At a moment structurally similar to Lady Philosophy’s rebuking of Boethius for his lack of equanimity in the face of adverse fortune, Jesus rebukes his disciples for failing to trust that He will provide food for them and the multitude in the desert, as He had done previously: “Having ears, hear ye not? and do ye not remember?” (Mark 8:18). 13. Knowest . . . me Prose 4, up to this point, is in Elizabeth’s hand. Windebank once again begins to take down the translation in secretary hand, using this, rather than italic, for virtually all of his writing at Elizabeth’s dictation. 74. warning “admonitione.” “Admonitio” can mean ‘warning,’ but the context suggests, rather, ‘a statement (of a fact).’ With a testy rhetorical question Boethius asks whether he needs to make his ill fortune more explicit. 75. Hath . . . me “nec per se satis eminet fortunae in nos saevientis asperitas?” (and is not the sourness of cruel Fortune toward us sufficiently evident by itself?). Elizabeth takes “eminet” (is evident) in its other senses of ‘rises above’ or ‘excels’ and fits the remainder to that sense. overtopped risen above, surpassed.

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Then I, gathering my mind to his full strength: “Have I yet need of warning?74 Hath not the sourness of cruel Fortune overtopped me75 by herself alone? Doth not the view of this place thee move? Is not this the shop which, surest seat in all my inward rooms, for thee I chose me?76 Which, by me oft sitting, of science’ divine and human matters77 thou disputedst? Was this thy habit? Was this thy look, when with thee I searched Nature’s secrets? when to me, with ruler, thou describedst the stars’ ways, and framedst our works and whole trade78 of life after the trade of celestial order? Shall we receive such rewards for obeying thee? When thou thyself this sentence passed, of Plato’s mouth,79 that ‘happy were those commonwealths, if either wisdomstudiers ruled them, or their rulers wisdom embraced’? Thou by the selfsame man’s mouth didst teach that this was the necessariest cause for wise men to rule the commonwealth, lest that the reins thereof, left to the wicked and harmful citizens, might breed the plague, and harm to good. “This authority I following, which in thy secret leisure thou taughtest me, made me wish to turn for action of common rule.80 God and thyself do witness bear, which He inspired to wise men’s minds, that no care brought me to magistrate-rule but common care for all good men.81 Whence great and unappeased discord with

76. shop . . . me shop workshop, place where something is produced; “bibliotheca” (library). seat dwelling, residence, cognate with “sedem.” for . . . me “tibi . . . ipsa delegeras” (you chose for yourself). 77. of . . . matters of the divine and human matters of knowledge; “de humanarum divinarumque rerum scientia.” science’ knowledge, equivalent to Boethius’s cognate, “scientia,” and an uninflected possessive, a frequent usage of Elizabeth’s with a final sibilant. We have supplied the apostrophe. 78. trade course, way, or manner of life. One of Elizabeth’s recurrent terms: see CW, 79. Boethius reads “mores” and, where “trade” recurs five words later, “exempla” (examples). 79. sentence . . . mouth sentence passed A legal metaphor; “sanxisti” (you have established). Plato’s mouth Republic 5.473D. 80. for . . . rule word-for-word rendering of “in actum publicae administrationis” (in the practice of public administration). 81. which . . . men which whom—i.e., thyself, Lady Philosophy. common . . . men “commune bonorum omnium studium,” normally construed as a subjective genitive, “the general goodwill of [i.e., on the part of] good men.” Elizabeth, however, construes the phrase as an objective genitive (for good men). Her rendering becomes more plausible if Boethius’s “commune” and her cognate “common” are understood not as ‘general’ or ‘shared’ (by good men) but in their alternative senses of ‘affable’ (toward good men).

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gaue Me for to saue right I preserved, dispising the Mighties offence. hoW oft have I crossed Conigastus, Vsing VioLence to eche mans Weke fortune? how many tymes haue I overthrowne TriguyL In court cheefe officer, from his begon and almost ended iniurye? how oft haue I protected Wretched poore men, Whom that Vnpunished auarice of BarbeRous With infinite sLanders Vexed, throWing my Autoritie against their perrils. Never could Any man, drawe me from Law to Iniury. I soroWed for the Provinces Misfortunes, Wrackt by by him private ravins and publick taxes, no lesse than they that sufferd them. Whan Campania proVince seemed despoiled afflicted through Want in tyme of greatest famyne, and W such As could not be exprest, When buying and selling Was forbyd, I began A quarrell against the pretorian Ruler for cause of common good. I straue With him the King Knowing it, and Won wan it that no sale sale Were made: Paulin the consul, Whose goodes the palatine dog With hope and ambition had deuourde, for from the gapers Jaw Jawes I drew. I opposde my self to the hate of Leithian Ciprian the bakbyter, that there fatious penaltie that the Payne of the preiudical accusation might not fall to the share of Albinus the consul. haue not I, suppose you, sharpned quarrels Against me you me Ynough, that but and ought to have ben defended among the rest, euin they them that for loue of Justice Among the Courtiers might haue saued me: by Which I should be safer; by What Accusers Am I now stricken, of Whom Basilius fallen from princes seruice is driven to 82. despising . . . offense Pulmann’s edition reads “spreta potentum semper offensio” (powerful men’s taking of offense [against me] was always despised / disregarded). Modern editions read “potentiorum” (of the more powerful), a variant Pulmann notes in his margin. 83. Conigastus . . . Triggulla Contemporaries of Boethius, whose abuses of public office he opposed. Triggulla is identified here as chief official of the royal household (“regiae praepositum domus”), and Conigastus is known as the addressee of a letter from Cassiodorus, who succeeded Boethius as master of the offices. 84. barbarous barbarous men, barbarians. 85. law right, justice, equivalent to Boethius’s “ius.” 86. ravins despoilings. 87. When . . . forbid Boethius’s subordinate construction posed syntactic and lexical challenges: “Cum acerbae famis tempore gravis atque inexplicabilis indicta coemptio profligatura inopia Campaniam provinciam videretur” (When in a time of sharp famine it seemed there was to be a terrible and inexplicable “coemptio” [compulsory sale of produce to the state at less than market rate] imposed that was about to ruin the province of Campania with destitution). Campania A Roman province in southern Italy. seemed . . . such . . . expressed Elizabeth construes “videretur” (seemed) and “gravis atque inex-

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wicked folks I had; and that freedom that conscience’ liberty gave me for to save right, I preserved, despising the mighty’s offense.82 “How oft have I crossed Conigastus using violence to each man’s weak fortune? How many times have I overthrown Triggulla,83 in court chief officer, from his begun and almost-ended injury? How oft have I protected poor men, whom unpunished avarice of barbarous84 with infinite slanders vexed, throwing my authority against their perils? Never could any man draw me from law85 to injury. I sorrowed for the provinces’ misfortunes, racked by private ravins86 and public taxes, no less than they that suffered them. “When Campania province seemed afflicted through want in time of greatest famine, and such as could not be expressed, when buying and selling was forbid,87 I began a quarrel against the praetorian ruler for cause of common good. I strove with him, the king knowing it; and won it that no sale88 were made. Paulinus the consul, whose goods the Palatine dog89 with hope and ambition had devoured, from the gaper’s jaws I drew. I opposed myself to the hate of Cyprian the backbiter, that the pain of the prejudicial90 accusation might not fall to the share of Albinus, the consul. Have not I, suppose you, sharpened quarrels against me enough? And ought to have been defended among the rest, even them that for love of justice among the courtiers might have saved me, by which I should be safer.91 By what accusers am I now stricken? Of plicabilis” (terrible and inexplicable) with the opening description of famine rather than the subsequent description of the “coemptio.” buying . . . forbid Elizabeth’s guess as to what the “coemptio” entailed, for which she would have found little guidance in Renaissance authorities. The Bibliotheca Eliotae and Thomas Thomas’s dictionary unhelpfully define “coemptio” etymologically as “a buying together.” 88. sale A contextually apt translation of “coemptio.” 89. Paulinus . . . dog Paulinus Consul in 498 C.E. good property, possessions. Palatine dog Boethius’s phrase, a reference to rapacious courtiers, is plural. 90. pain . . . prejudicial pain punishment, penalty; Elizabeth’s usual rendering of “poena.” prejudicial prejudiced; “praeiudicatae.” 91. And . . . safer Pulmann’s edition reads “Sed esse apud ceteros tutior debui, qui mihi amore iustitiae nihil apud aulicos quo magis essem tutior servavi” (But I should have been safer among the others [the noncourtiers], I who with my love for justice preserved nothing by which I would be safer among the courtiers). Boethius expresses outrage that members of his own senatorial class have betrayed him. Elizabeth’s phrasing obscures his distinction between “the rest” (ceteros), the members of the senatorial order, not members of the court, who should have protected him, and the courtiers whose favor he did not seek and who therefore had no reason to ensure his safety.

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sLaunder of our name, for dettes sake. When by Kinges Judgement a censure Was giuen for bannishment for Opilion and Gaudensius for their Iniuries, and many Wronges, And When they denyeng to obeye, saued them selves With defence of holy Sanctuary, and that the King KnoWing, proclaymde that Without they departed from Ravenna toWne at the prescribed daye, they should be driven out With their forheades markes. What might be thought, to crosse such seueritie? but yet in that daye, themsellues deferring the sLaunder, touched Me. What tho? hath our science deseruid this, or their forerunning condemnacion, Made their accusers Just? So fortune Was Nothing ashamde oif the not14 thaccused innocency, yet of thaccusers Wickednes basenes : but What is our faulte? Will ye seek the principall? We are sayde to Wish the Senates surety: The reason meanes Waye you desire, A scLaunderer, lest he Might deLay his Lessons by Which he Might Make Me guilty of treason, We are accused to have letted him: What then think you ô pedagogue Myne? shall We deny the facte? that shame the We Might Not: but I Wolde, and neuer to Will, Will leave. shall We confesse it? but then We shall it the Worke to of hindering the scLaunderer Leave ceasse. shall I call it a faulte, to Wish the surety of that state? he himself by his oWn decrees Against me, hath made this Vnlawfull: but folie that lyes euer Against her self, the Worth of

14. oif the not Windebank began to write “of ” but changed it to “if ” without remembering to insert a needed “of ” immediately after “not.” 92. Of whom One of whom. 93. for . . . wrongs Elizabeth renders with a cognate Pulmann’s reading “ob iniurias, atque multiplices fraudes” (because of their injurious acts and manifold fraudulent deeds). All other sixteenth-century editions consulted, and modern editions, read “ob innumeras multiplicesque fraudes” (because of their countless and manifold fradulent deeds). 94. that, the king . . . severity that . . . knowing the king knowing that they had refused to leave Ravenna; “compertumque id regi foret” (when the king found out about it). without unless. foreheads’ marks brands on their foreheads. what . . . severity? “Quid huic severitate posse astrui videtur?” (What does it seem can be added to this severity?). to cross to pass over a boundary; figuratively, to surpass. 95. themselves deferring they themselves delivering it (the accusation). deferring conveying, proffering, cognate with “deferentibus,” which can mean ‘conveying’ but here has its specific legal sense of ‘denouncing,’ ‘charging.’ 96. What though? What happens, or would happen in view of . . . ?; “quid igitur?” (what therefore is to be done?). 97. science “artes” (skill, expertise). 98. forerunning preceding.

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whom92 Basilius, fallen from prince’s service, is driven to slander of our name, for debts’ sake. When by king’s judgment a censure was given for banishment for Opilio and Gaudentius, for their injuries and many wrongs;93 and when they, denying to obey, saved themselves with defense of holy sanctuary; and that, the king knowing, proclaimed that without they departed from Ravenna town at the prescribed day, they should be driven out with their foreheads’ marks—what might be thought to cross such severity?94 But yet, in that day, themselves deferring,95 the slander touched me. What though?96 Hath our science97 deserved this? Or their forerunning98 condemnation made their accusers just? So Fortune was nothing ashamed, if not [of] the accused’ innocency,99 yet of the accusers’ baseness? But what is our fault? Will ye seek the principal? We are said to wish100 the Senate’s surety. The way, you desire? A slanderer, lest he might dela[te] his lessons by which he might make me guilty of treason, we are accused to have letted101 him. “What then think you, O pedagogue mine? Shall we deny the fact, that shame thee we might not? But I would; and never to will, will leave.102 Shall we confess it? But then shall the work of hindering the slanderer cease!103 Shall I call it a fault, to wish the surety of that state?104 He himself, by his105 own decrees against me, hath made this 99. [of] . . . innocency [of] Windebank, while revising, mistakenly left out this preposition; see n14 of our original-spelling text. accused’ innocency An uninflected possessive; “accusatae innocentiae” (of innocence accused). 100. to wish “voluisse” (to have wished). 101. dela[te] . . . letted dela[te] Windebank wrote “delay,” evidently mishearing Elizabeth’s “delate” (report, accuse, inform of a crime), which is cognate with Boethius’s imperfect subjunctive “deferret” from “deferre” (accuse, denounce; past participle “delatus”) as well as with the verb’s subject, “delator[em]” (slanderer, informer). lessons instructions, possibly also in the sense of ‘rebukes.’ Boethius’s “documenta” has its postclassical sense of evidentiary writing or official documents. The Bibliotheca Eliotae and Thomas Thomas give “lesson” and “proof ” as their first two definitions of “documentum”; “proofs” would be more appropriate here than “lessons.” me Should be “Senate” (senatum). letted prevented. 102. But . . . leave “At volui nec unquam velle desistam” (But I have wished, nor shall I ever cease to to wish). The unexpressed object of the two verbs is the preserving of the Senate. 103. But . . . cease! Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “Sed impediendi delatoris opera cessabit” (But [then] the attempt at hindering the accuser will end). Modern editors prefer “cessavit” (has ended [in failure]). 104. of . . . state “illius ordinis” (of that order, i.e., the senatorial order). 105. He . . . his It . . . its. These third-person singular references are to the Senate and its actions against Boethius.

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thinges can neuer change. nether Lawfull is it for Me by Socrates Rule, to hyde trouth or graunte A lye: but this What it is to yours and Wyse folkes iudgement I leave the censure. whose the trouth of Matter and that manner Manner of matter and trouth that posterite May knowe, to My silent Memory haue committed. For as for false supposed lettres in Which I Am euer accusde to hope for Romayne libertie, What bootes it speake? Whose fraude had lyen all open if I might have Vsde my Accusers confession Which in all Matters beares greatest swaye: for What left liberty May be hoped for? that Wold god there Were any, I had Aunswered then as Canius did, Who being accused by Caius Cesar Germanicus sonne When he Was accused to haue bene guilty of to be guilty of the Coniuration against him by Caius Cesar Germa. Yf I had KnoWen thou hadste not KnoWen: In Which matter, soroW hath not so duld my senses, to m complayne of Wicked men for dooing Mischefe Against Vertue, but rather Much Wonder hoW they could hope performe it: for to Will the Worst, perchaunce Might be our faulte, But to haue poWre against Innocency, for ech Wretch to doo What he conceaues, god being Looker on, seemes Monstrouse: Whence ther is a question Not Without cause, of thy familiar: Yf there be a god, quoth he; Whence coms the euill? The good fro from Whence, yf he be not? but it may be lawfull ynough for Wicked men that thursted the blud of all the senate and all good men, to seeke our Wrak, Whom they haue seene defend the good and saue the Senate. but did We deserue the lyke of the fathers or No? You remember I suppose, for What I sayde or did present you directed Me. You call to mynde quoth I, At Verona when the King greedy of common fall did stryve to bring the treason, layde to Albinus, to the Senates order,

106. is . . . rule is . . . me Elizabeth omits “arbitror” (I think). Socrates’ rule In Plato Republic 6.485C–D; Theatetus 151D. 107. to . . . committed “to my style and memory have committed” is a word-for-word rendering of “stilo etiam memoriaeque mandavi” (I have committed to my stylus and to the memory [of future generations]). [style and] Windebank wrote “silent,” evidently mishearing Elizabeth. style stylus, as in prose 1 above. 108. left remaining. 109. Gaius Caesar Better known as the infamous emperor Caligula (12–41 C.E.). 110. to complain . . . it “ut impios scelerata contra virtutem querar molitos, sed quae speraverint effecisse vehementer admiror” (to complain that wicked men have striven to do evils against virtue, but rather I greatly wonder that they have done what they have hoped). Elizabeth misunderstands Boethius’s distinction.

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unlawful. But Folly, that lies ever against herself, the worth of things can never change. Neither lawful is it for me, by Socrates’ rule,106 to hide truth or grant a lie. But this, what it is, to yours and wise folks’ judgment I leave the censure, whose manner of matter and truth, that posterity may know, to my [style and] memory have committed.107 “For, as for false, supposed letters in which I am accused to hope for Roman liberty, what boots it speak? Whose fraud had lain all open if I might have used my accusers’ confession, which in all matters bears greatest sway. For, what left108 liberty may be hoped for? That, would God, there were any! I had answered then as Canius did, who, accused by Gaius Caesar,109 Germanicus’s son, to be guilty of the conjuration against him: ‘If I had known, thou hadst not known.’ In which matter, sorrow hath not so dulled my senses, to complain of wicked men for doing mischief against virtue, but rather much wonder how they could hope perform it.110 For, to will the worst, perchance might be our fault;111 but to have power against innocency, for each wretch to do what he conceives, God being Looker-on, seems monstrous. Whence there is a question not without cause, of thy familiar:112 ‘If there be a God,’ quoth he, ‘whence comes the evil? The good from whence, if He be not?’113 But it may be lawful enough for wicked men, that thirsted the blood of all the Senate and all good men, to seek our wrack, whom they have seen defend the good and save the Senate.114 But did we deserve the like of the Fathers,115 or no? “You remember, I suppose. For what I said or did,116 you directed me. You call to mind,” quoth I, “at Verona, when the king, greedy of common fall, did strive to bring the treason laid to Albinus, to the

111. our fault i.e., a normal human failing. 112. thy familiar thy intimate friend, cognate with “tuorum quidam familiarium,” which can mean ‘one of your friends’ but here suggests ‘one of your servants,’ i.e., a disciple. 113. “If . . . not?” The quotation is from Proclus’s commentary on Parmenides, 1056.10– 16. 114. defend . . . Senate Elizabeth’s version is stronger than Boethius’s “propugnare bonis senatuique” (fight for good men and for the Senate). 115. Fathers senators; “patribus.” The OED notes that “fathers” is a standard Elizabethan term for ancient Roman senators. 116. what . . . did “me dicturum quid facturumve” (what I was about to say or do).

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how I defended then the innocency of all and the Senat with Most assurance of my owne danger. You Know the all this that true it is I tel, and that No boste I make of any my Prayse. for thassurance of an honest a graunting conscience diminishith it selfe in a sorte, as oft as bosting receauith the rewarde of fame. But you see What end my Innocency hath. for true Vertues rewarde, We suffer false factes Payne. for Whose manifest confession of Wicked facte, euer Made all Judges so agree in seueritie that eyther the faulte of humaine Witt, or thincertayne state of fortune, may not Leave out somewhat? Yf We haue had bene sayd to haue burned the sacred houses, to haue sLayne the preestes with wicked sworde, and bred destruction of all good men, they the sentence had punished men present confessing and convicted. Now allmost fyfty thousand myles of fyve hundred thousand Paces of, it though farr of, and Vnwearyed, We are condemnde to death and exile, for our ready indeuors for the Senates good. O that we Woorthy men, amongest Whom for such a faulte, none of them shal be convinced. the Value Woorth of Whose guiltynes, they themselves haue seene that Brought it. Which to dym With mixture of som Wickednes, they haue false belyed me, to haue stayned my consicence With sacrilege for Ambition sake. And thou thy self ingraftest grafted in me, all desyre of mortall thinges from seate of my mynde hast pluckt, for Vnder thy sight ther Was no place for sacrilege faulte. for to My eares thou didst instill, and to my thoughtes this Pythagorian Worde, Obey thy God.15 15. Obey . . . God Here, and below where indicated by italic typeface, Windebank shifts from secretary to italic hand. 117. the king . . . assurance the king . . . fall “rex avidus exitii communis” (the king eager for the general destruction—i.e., of the senatorial order). the king Theodoric the Ostragoth. to bring . . . order to shift onto the whole Senate the treason charge laid against Albinus. with . . . assurance “quanta . . . securitate” could mean ‘with how great assurance,’ but the context suggests ‘with how great heedlessness.’ 118. that . . . praise that . . . tell that what I tell is true. no . . . praise “in nulla unquam mei laude iactasse” (and that I have never boasted in praise of myself). 119. assurance . . . conscience “se probantis conscientiae secretum” (the aloofness of a conscience approving itself). of a granting of a [conscience] assenting to; “probantis.” 120. for . . . pain Word-for-word rendering of “pro verae virtutis praemiis falsi sceleris poenas subimus.” for instead of. false . . . pain punishment for an uncommitted deed. 121. may . . . somewhat? “ut non aliquos . . . submitteret?” (that might not moderate some of them [i.e., the judges]?). leave out Probably Windebank’s mishearing of “leviate,” an early modern equivalent of “alleviate,” here used in the sense of ‘mitigate, palliate,’ rendering “submitteret” (moderate). somewhat Elizabeth’s addition. 122. sacred . . . convicted sacred houses temples of the gods; “sacras aedes.” bred “struxisse” (prepared, contrived). “Breed” is one of Elizabeth’s favorite verbs; see

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Senate’s order, how I defended then the innocency of all the Senate with most assurance117 of my own danger. You know all this, that true it is I tell, and that no boast I make of any my praise.118 For the assurance of a granting conscience119 diminisheth itself in a sort, as oft as boasting receiveth reward of fame. But you see what end my innocency hath: for true virtue’s reward, we suffer false fact’s pain.120 For whose manifest confession of wicked fact ever made all judges so agree in severity, that either the fault of human wit or the incertain state of Fortune may not leave out somewhat?121 If we had been said to have burned the sacred houses, to have slain the priests with wicked sword, and bred destruction of all good men, the sentence had punished present confessing and convicted.122 Now, almost five hundred thousand paces off, though far off and unwearied, we are condemned to death and exile for our ready123 endeavors for the Senate’s good. O worthy men! For such a fault none of them shall be convinced.124 “The value of whose guiltiness125 they themselves have seen that brought it: which, to dim with mixture of some wickedness, they have false belied me to have stained my conscience with sacrilege for ambition’ sake. And thou thyself, grafted in me, all desire of mortal things from seat of my mind hast plucked; for under thy sight there was no place for sacrilege’ fault. To my ears thou didst instill and

CW, 105–6 (two instances), and our introduction to her translation of Seneca’s Epistle 107. the sentence . . . convicted “praesentem tamen sententia, confessum tamen convictumve punisset” (the sentence / verdict had punished me, yet with me present, having either confessed or been convicted). 123. almost . . . ready almost . . . off Elizabeth renders word for word Boethius’s “quingentis fere passuum milibus procul” (a distance of almost five hundred thousand passus / five hundred Roman miles), treating “passus” as an English “pace.” Though a “passus” equaled five “pedes,” and “pace” normally meant the distance covered in a foot, or sometimes two, the Bibliotheca Eliotae finesses the point by defining “passus” as “a pace, which doth conteyn five feete.” far . . . unwearied Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “moti, atque indefensi” (moved [from Rome] and defenseless); Elizabeth mistakes “indefensi” (defenseless) for “indefessi” (unwearied). Modern editions read “muti atque indefensi” (unable to speak and defenseless). exile “prescriptioni” (proscription). Proscription was the Roman practice of proclaiming citizens outlaws and confiscating their goods. ready willing; “propensius” (too willing, too partial). 124. O . . . convinced “O meritos de simili crimine neminem posse convinci” (O surely we deserve that nobody [least of all ourselves] could be convicted of a like crime). convinced convicted. 125. The . . . guiltiness “cuius dignitatem reatus” (the value of which charge).

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Neyther did it becom me to seeke the help of Vilest spirites, Whom thou hadst framed to such an excellency that lyk to god thou madest them. Agayne, the Innocent closet of my house, resorte of honest frendes, my holy father laws father Symmacus, And for his deedes reuerenced, defendes Vs from all suspicion of this cryme: but O Mishap. They beleeuid all this cryme, and for this synne We Were confoned, for that We Were indewed With thy lesson, and framed of thy condition. B So bootes but them it not ynough, that thy reuerence should protecte Me, but that Withall thou shouldest be Vexed With my offence. But this is greatest heape of to our mishap, that the Valuing of Moste regardes Not More fortunes event, than causes Merit, And Judgith that best prouided, that felicitie recommendith. Which makes that true through Waying waight first leaveth the Vnhappy man. What Now the rumors be, hoW Variable, and increasing their Judgmentes, to remember, it greeves me. This only can I saye, that the last burden of fortune is, that Whilest faultes be layde to the Wretchedest charge, they are beleeuid the g to deserue they that is layde to their charge And my self bereued of all my goodes, spoyld of my dignities, spotted in my fame, for benefitt, receaue punishment. Me thinkes I see the wicked shops of Vilest men fLoWing With Joye and mirth. And euery Wickedst Man, overLayeng Me with new fraudes of accusation. I see the good lye doWne prostrate for feare of

126. ‘Obey . . . God’ “ἕπου θεῷ” (follow God). An ancient Greek precept adapted by several philosophical schools. 127. vilest spirits demons. 128. whom . . . them “quem tu in hanc excellentiam componebas ut consimilem deo faceres” ([me] whom you were molding in such excellence, so that you might make [me] godlike). whom i.e., me whom. them It seems much likelier that Windebank misheard Elizabeth’s “him” as “them” than that she construed the singular object “quem” as a reference to plural evil spirits, and not to the speaker. 129. law’s . . . reverenced law’s father father-in-law; “socer.” and . . . reverenced Pulmann’s edition reads “aeque actu ipso reverendus” (equally to be reverenced for his very action). Modern editions adopt a 1607 emendation: “aeque ac tu ipso reverendus” (and worthy to be reverenced just as much as you yourself). 130. They . . . confo[u]n[d]ed They . . . crime Elizabeth follows an error in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, which reads “illi vero de re tanti criminis fidem capiunt” (but they [the accusers] command belief about the matter of so a great crime). She misconstrues the idiom “fidem capere” as “believe.” (In Pulmann’s 1580 edition “de re” is corrected to “de te,” the standard reading, with the sense that the accusers ‘command belief of so great a crime, on account of you [Philosophy].’) and . . . confo[u]n[d]ed “atque hoc ipso videbimur affines fuisse maleficio” (and for this reason, we will seem to have been accomplices to

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to my thoughts this Pythagorean word, ‘Obey thy God.’126 Neither did it become me to seek the help of vilest spirits,127 whom thou hadst framed to such an excellency, that like to God thou madest them.128 Again, the innocent closet of my house, resort of honest friends, my holy law’s father, Symmachus, and for his deeds reverenced,129 defends us from all suspicion of this crime. But oh, mishap! They believed all this crime, and for this sin we were confo[u]n[d]ed:130 for that we were endued with thy lesson, and framed of thy condition. So boots it not enough that thy reverence should protect me,131 but that withal thou shouldst be vexed with my offense. But this is greatest heap132 to our mishap: that the valuing of most, regards more Fortune’s event than cause’s merit, and judgeth that best provided,133 that felicity recommendeth: which makes that true weight first leaveth the unhappy man.134 What now the rumors be, how variable and increasing135 their judgments, to remember, it grieves me. This only can I say, that the last burden of Fortune is, that whilst faults be laid to the wretchedest’ charge, they are believed to deserve that136 is laid to their charge. And myself, bereaved of all my goods, spoiled of my dignities, spotted in my fame, for benefit137 receive punishment. “Methinks I see the wicked shops of vilest men, flowing with joy and mirth, and every wickedest man overlaying me138 with new frauds of accusation. I see the good lie down prostrate for fear of my fall;

this evil deed). confo[u]n[d]ed mixed together, rendering “affines” (accomplices). Windebank miswrote “confoned.” 131. thy . . . me thy reverence reverence for you. should . . . me Elizabeth or Windebank conveys the opposite sense of Boethius by failing to translate “nihil” (not at all). 132. this . . . heap “hic . . . cumulus accedit” (this additional amount is added [to our ill fortune]). Elizabeth construes “cumulus”—here, ‘additional amount’—in its sense of ‘heap.’ 133. provided foreseen, prearranged; “provisa” (foreseen). 134. weight . . . man weight influence, authority; “existimatio bona” (good reputation). unhappy man Boethius has a plural, “infelices” (unhappy people). 135. increasing “multiplesque” (manifold), construed as “multiplicans” (increasing, multiplying). 136. of Fortune . . . that of Fortune “adversae fortunae” (of adverse fortune). wretchedest’ charge accusation against the most wretched people. Here and in the next clause the idiom “lay to one’s charge” means ‘charge one with,’ ‘accuse one of.’ that that which, what. 137. benefit good deed, with the same sense as Boethius’s cognate “beneficium.” 138. overlaying me overlaying oppressing; “imminentem” (threatening). me Elizabeth’s addition.

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my fall, Ech Wicked Man bol bolde Vnpunishd to faulte To doo the Which thoroW rewardes they be styrred, but Innocent folkes not only of surety, but of defence depriued. Wherefore thus May I excLaime 5. Myter O framar of starry Circle Who lening to the Whirled Lasting grounstone16 Withe Whorling bLast heVens turnest And and Law CompeLst the skies to beare NoW that with fuLL horne meting alL her brothers flames the Lessar stars the mone dimmes NoW darke and pale her horne Nar to Son Loseth her Light And she that at beginning of night Hesperus frosen rising makes, And Luciϕar palled by Φebus Vprise Againe her wonted raines exchangeth thou, by the Cold of Lefe falne shade straightist thy Light With shortar abode Than Whan the fervent sommar Comes Easy nights houres deuidest Thy poWer tempers the changing year that What Leues boreas blastz bereues GentiL Seϕirus17 brings as fast Sedes that the Northe star doth behoLd

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16. grounstone Penslip for “groundstone.” Elizabeth indents only this line and the last line of this Meter. 17. Seφirus Zephyrus. 139. each . . . stirred bold . . . fault bold to do wrong, because unpunished. to . . . stirred to be incited by rewards to do evil. Elizabeth loosely translates “flagitiosum quemque ad audendum quidem facinus impunitate, ad efficiendum vero praemiis incitari” (every base man incited, by impunity, at least to dare a crime and, by rewards, really to carry it out). 140. leaning . . . ground-stone leaning to “nixus” (resting upon). ground-stone foundation stone. Elizabeth evidently confuses Boethius’s “solio” (on the throne) with “solo” (on the ground / foundation). “Solio” is correctly translated in line 31. 141. Meeting . . . brother’s Meeting “obvia” (facing opposite). her brother’s the sun’s.

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each wicked man, bold, unpunished to fault, to do the which through rewards be stirred;139 but innocent folks not only of surety but of defense deprived. Wherefore thus may I exclaim:— Meter 5 O Framer of starry circle, Who, leaning to the lasting ground-stone,140 With whirling blast heav’ns turn’st, And law compell’st the skies to bear: Now, that with full horn Meeting all her brother’s141 flames, The lesser stars the moon dims; Now dark and pale her horn, Near to sun loseth her light. And she that at beginning of night Hesperus’142 frozen rising makes, And Lucifer,143 pall’d by Phoebus’ uprise, Again her wonted reins exchangeth.144 Thou, by the cold of leaf-fall’n shade,145 Straitest Thy146 light with shorter abode, Then when the fervent summer comes, Easy147 night’s hours divid’st. Thy power tempers the changing year That, what leaves Boreas’ blasts bereaves, Gentle Zephyrus148 brings as fast; Seeds that the North Star doth behold,

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142. she . . . Hesperus’ the planet Venus or Jupiter, as the evening star Hesperus. 143. Lucifer the planet Venus or Jupiter, as the morning star Lucifer (‘light bearing’). 144. Again . . . exchangeth Each time Venus alternates from one to another celestial role, she switches her accustomed reins for driving across the sky. 145. shade “brumae” (of winter), evidently mistaken for “umbrae” (of shade). 146. Straitest Thy Straitest narrows, contracts. Thy “The” would be a better reading; the light is winter’s, not God’s. 147. fervent . . . easy fervent hot, boiling; “fervida.” easy offering little resistance; “agiles” (swift, easily moved). 148. Gentle Zephyrus Elizabeth renders “mitis Zephyrus,” the reading in all sixteenth-century editions consulted. Modern editors prefer “mites,” modifying “frondes” (leaves).

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at hiest blade the dokstar18 burnith vp Naught Loused from auncient Law LeVes the Worke of her oWne place AL giding With assured end Mans Workes alone thou dost dispice O gidar by right desart from meane to kipe for Why so many sLipar fortune turnes doth make oppressing fautles dew paine for Wicked dew mete but in hy Seats the Wicked factz abide And Wicked stamps on holy necks With uniust turne And Cleare Vertu dimmed with th thick blackenis Lurketh And iust man the Wickeds Crime doth beare fals othe in fraude doth them annoy Who Whan the Can Vse ther forse Whom many Vulgar feare the mightiest kings they can subdue O now behold of wretched erthe thou how who so ties the bondz of alL Vs men regard of thy greatest worke not the vilest part hoW tost We be With fortunes Waues O Weldar apeace the Roring floudes

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18. dokstar dogstar. Elizabeth occasionally spelled hard g as k—e.g., her reference to “brinking of me vp in lerninge and honestie” (ACFLO, 23). 149. North Star, Dog Star “Arcturus” (Bear-Watcher); “Sirius.” 150. Man’s . . . keep “Hominum solos respuis actus / Merito rector cohibere modo” (Only the acts of man do You refuse, / As Governor, to keep within a proper measure / mean). O . . . desert Elizabeth construes “merito rector” as ‘guide by merit,’ treating “merito” as the ablative of the noun “meritum” rather than an adjective modifying “modo.” despise . . . to scorn or disdain to. from . . . keep Elizabeth seems to construe “cohibere modo” (to keep within measure / the mean) as its opposite (to keep from measure / the mean). She presumably meant to express Boethius’s idea that God disdains to keep man within measure, but she did not correlate her rendering of “cohibere modo” with her preceding “despise” to convey the sense coherently. 151. slipper slippery. 152. oppressing . . . meet i.e., oppressing the faultless with the pains fit for the wicked. 153. high . . . facts in . . . seats “celso . . . solio” (on high throne). facts deeds; “Mores” (practices, habits).

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At highest blade, the Dog Star149 burneth up. Naught loosed from ancient law Leaves the work of her own place; All guiding with assurèd end, Man’s works alone thou dost despise, O Guider by right desert, from mean to keep:150 For, why so many, slipper151 Fortune, Turns doth make? oppressing faultless, Due pain for wicked meet.152 But, in high seats, the wicked facts153 abide, And wicked stamps on holy necks With unjust turn.154 And clear virtue, dimmed With thick blackness, lurketh;155 And just man the wicked’s crime doth bear. False oath in fraud doth them annoy;156 Who, when they can use their force, Whom many vulgar fear,157 The mightiest kings they can subdue. O now, behold, of wretched Earth, Thou, who so ties the bonds of all, Us men regard (of Thy great work, not vilest part), How tossed we be with Fortune’s waves. O Wielder,158 appease the roaring floods,

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154. wicked . . . turn wicked stamps “calcant / . . . nocentes” (the wicked . . . trample on). turn change, but with associations akin to Boethius’s “vice” (alternation, recompense). 155. lurketh lives in obscurity or retirement. 156. False . . . annoy Probably taking “ipsis” to refer to the previously mentioned “iustus” (just man), despite the change in number, Elizabeth omits two negatives and loosely translates two lines that read as follows in Pulmann’s 1562 edition: “Nil periuria, nil nocet ipsis / Fraus mendaci coempta colore” (Neither perjuries hurt them [unjust men], nor doth / Deceit bought with lying semblance). Corrected in the 1580 edition, “coempta” (bought) is a misprint for “compta” (adorned), the reading in all other editions consulted. 157. Who . . . fear Who i.e., unjust men. Whom . . . fear In Boethius this clause refers to the “kings” of line 40. Elizabeth’s line is ambiguous in referring either to the unjust men or to the kings they conquer. many vulgar “innumeri . . . populi” (innumerable peoples). 158. Wielder Ruler, from “wield” in its sense of ‘rule.’

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And with what boundz the great heauen thou gidest the stable erthe do stedy. 5. Prose This when With contynuall wo I had burst out, seeing her With mylde countenance Nothing Mooued with my Mones, When the quoth she, sad and WayLing I sawe, sraight any a Wretch and exile I k exule I Knew the haste but hoW farre of thy banishment Was, but that this thou toldste I Knew Not. but thou wit how farre from countrey thou art Not expulst, but hast strayed yet if thou woldest thou choosest rather to be hadst rather be thought expulst thou thy self hast throWne it. for that was for other Was neuer lawfull than the to doo. for if thou remember from What countrey thou cammest Not guyded as Athens was, by rule of multitude, but one is King and Ruler, that Joyeth more in subiectes nomber than their expulse. With Whose raynes to be guyded and Justice obeyde, is greatest libertie. Art thou ignorant of the auncientest Law of thy Citie, which commaundz that No man may be banisht from it, in how they that choosith to build ther sea Whoso choosith there to build them a seate. for Who so in her trench and suerty is conteynde, No feare shall haue Nor exul dreades deserues to be: but Who so leaves to Will her habitation, opre allso Wantes allso deseruith. Wherfore this place thy Looke not this place so much Moouith me, Nor doo I desyre my shops Walles adornid with yuory or gLasse, rather than the seate of thy mynde. In Which I placed Not Bookes, but that that giues them price, in the sentences of

159. with . . . bounds “foedere” (here, with that imposed law or limit). 160. seeing her Elizabeth’s addition. 161. hadst . . . expulsed if you would prefer to be thought expelled. expulsed expelled. 162. thou . . . [ou]t “te . . . ipse pepulisti” (you have driven yourself out). Windebank evidently misheard Elizabeth’s “out” as “it” when she dictated a characteristically literal rendering, “thou thyself hast thrown out.” 163. for other . . . thee it was never lawful for other than thee. lawful The usual meaning of “fas,” but here the sense is closer to ontologically ‘possible.’ 164. ‘but . . . ruler’ Pulmann’s edition reads “ἀλλα εἶς βασιλεύς ἐσὶν, εἶς κοίρανον” (but one king, one leader there are)—a corrupt quotation based on Homer Iliad 2.204–5. Modern editions give a reading closer to Homer’s original: “εἶς κοίρανός ἐστιν, εἶς βασιλεύς” (there is one leader, one king).

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And with what bounds159 the great heaven Thou guid’st, The stable earth do steady. Prose 5 This, when with continual woe I had burst out, seeing her160 with mild countenance nothing moved with my moans: “When thee,” quoth she, “sad and wailing I saw, straight a wretch and exile, I knew thee. But how far off thy banishment was, but that this thou toldst, I knew not. But thou, how far from country, art not expulsed, but strayed. Yet hadst rather be thought expulsed,161 thou thyself hast thrown [ou]t.162 For that, for other was never lawful, than thee,163 to do. For if thou remember from what country thou camest, not guided as Athens was by rule of multitude, ‘but one king and ruler,’164 that joyeth more in subjects’ number165 than their expulse: with whose reins to be guided, and justice obeyed, is greatest liberty. Art thou ignorant of the ancientest law of thy city, which commands that no man may be banished from it, whoso chooseth there to build a seat? For whoso in her trench and surety is contained, no fear shall have, nor exile deserves to be.166 But whoso leaves to will her habitation, wants also deserve [it].167 Wherefore thy look, not this place, so much moveth me, nor do I desire my shop’s walls adorned with ivory or glass, rather than the seat of thy mind, in which I placed not books, but that that gives them price, sentences of mine own works.168

165. subjects’ number “frequentia civium” (concourse of citizens). 166. surety . . . be surety “munimine” (within [the city’s] fortification). no . . . be “nullus metus est ne exul esse mereatur” (there is no fear that he should deserve to be an exile). Elizabeth treats the subjunctive final clause as correlative with the main clause, as if “nullus . . . ne” were “neque / nec . . . neque / nec.” 167. leaves . . . deserve leaves to ceases to. wants . . . deserve [it] “pariter desinit etiam mereri” (likewise ceases even to deserve)—i.e., no longer deserves to live with Philosophy. Windebank evidently misheard “deserve it” as “deserveth” in Elizabeth’s close rendering “wants also deserve it,” with ellipsis of “to” before “deserve.” wants fails to. 168. sentences . . . works “librorum quondam meorum sententias” (opinions contained in my books in times past). Elizabeth does not translate “quondam.” sentences opinions, pithy sayings.

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myne oWne woorkes. Thou haste rehersed truth of thy desart for common good. but little has thou told, of Nombers great thou hast receaued. Thou hast remembred thinges Knowen to all, obiected against the, eyther for good or falshode. of Mischefz or fraudes of thy sLaunderers rightly thou haste straightly touched that they might the better and farder be Knowen with prayse of Vulgare folk. Vehemently hast thou inVyede inVayde against the Senates Iniustice. of our complaynt haste haste moned and bewaylde the losse Wrack of Lost opinion estymations Loste. The last thy Wo agaynst fortune inVayed, complayning that she equalled not desertes rewarde In end of thy wood ragyng moode muse, requirste a graunte that the same peace that which ruleth the heauen might so rule thearth. But for that a greate heape of affections ouerWhelme the, and soroW, ire, wo, diuersly distractes the, such as now thy Mynde is now as yet it thy remedies be No greater, Wherfore easyer lett vs Vse a While that such as by groWing paynes in swelling hath bene hardenid, that they may beare more sharp receites, With a soft touch to still them be doulced therby 6. M[yter] Whan heuy Cancer smit by Φebus beames inflames than he that Lent plentyes19 sead to foroWes that denied them bigiLed by Ceres faithe

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19. plentyes plenteous. 169. thou hast received “gestorum tibi” (of things done by you). Puzzled by “tibi” (a dative of agent), Elizabeth probably misconstrued this phrase as ‘of things brought to you.’ 170. hast . . . against hast remembered “memorasti” can mean ‘you have remembered’ but the context suggests ‘you have mentioned.’ objected against charged against, cognate with Boethius’s “objectorum” (of the charges). 171. straitly . . . folk straitly scantily; “strictim” (superficially). that . . . folk “quod ea melius uberiusque recognoscentis omnia vulgi ore celebrentur” (since they are celebrated in the mouth of the common people, who find out about everything better and more fully). Elizabeth mistakes a causal for a purpose clause. 172. our . . . loss Of . . . complaint of the accusation against us—a literal rendering of “nostra . . . criminatione.” hast . . . loss “laesae . . . opinionis damna flevisti” (you have bewailed the damage to [our] wounded reputation). moaned . . . bewailed Elizabeth’s expansion. wrack disaster. estimation repute. 173. she . . . reward she (Fortune) did not match the reward that you merited; “non aequa meritis praemia pensari” (your rewards were not equal to your deserts).

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“Thou hast rehearsed truth of thy desert for common good, but little hast thou told of numbers great thou hast received.169 Thou hast remembered things known to all, objected against170 thee either for good or falsehood. Of mischiefs or frauds of thy slanderers, rightly thou hast straitly touched, that they might the better and farther be known with praise of vulgar folk.171 Vehemently hast thou inveighed against the Senate’s injustice. Of our complaint, hast moaned and bewailed the wrack of estimation’s loss.172 The last, thy woe against Fortune inveighed, complaining that she equaled not desert’s reward.173 In end of thy raging Muse, requirest a grant174 that the same peace which ruleth the heaven, might so rule the earth. But, for that175 a great heap of affections overwhelm thee, and sorrow, ire, woe diversely distracts thee, such as thy mind is now, as yet thy remedies be no greater. Wherefore, easier let us use awhile, that such as by growing pains in swelling hath been hardened, that they may bear more sharp receipts, with a soft touch be dulced.”176

Meter 6 When heavy Cancer,177 smit By Phoebus’ beams, inflames, Then he that lent plenteous seed To furrows that denied178 them, Beguiled by Ceres’ faith,179

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Let him seake the Acorne tre the decked wodz seak not Whan thou Violetz gather Whan With the Northy blastz The roring fiLdz affrightz Nor Seake not thou With gredy handz The springing Palmes to Weld Grapes if thou Wische inJoy In Autumne bacchus her gift bestows rather hys giftes bestowes Times God assignesth fit for eche mans office best Nor by the tournes as that he apoints Suffers to be mixte So What so Leues by racheLous Way the Certain rule Joyful ende shal neuer hit.20

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^ 6. Pr[ose] First then suffre me With questions few thy myndes state of to touche, and it to prooue, that betteR May I I Know of thy cure the way Ask me then quoth I according to thy Will, What ask thou woldest my aunsweres that I shall be. Then she, thinkes thou that this World is Wheeled by rash and happing chaunce? or dost suppose that Reasons Rule is in it? I can no way think, quoth I, that With so rash chaunce, soe

20. hit In the manuscript, meter 7 immediately follows meter 6, both in Elizabeth’s hand. At the end of meter 6 there is a jotting on the right in secretary hand (with a later penciled insertion) that reads: “^ first then suffer.” These are the opening words of prose 6, and the caret is an instruction to key in that part of the text at this point. The heading of prose 6 is likewise marked with an insertion caret, as indicated in our transcription. 180. acorn tree Acorns were thought to have been a major food of the preagricultural era, conceived either as a harshly primitive period or as a Golden Age; see book 2, meter 5, line 5. 181. deckèd adorned, arrayed; “purpureum” (reddened). The sense is that violets are not in season in autumnal woods. 182. springing . . . weld springing springtime, though perhaps also with its modern sense. palms False cognate for “palmites” (vine shoots). to weld Probably a form of “to wield,” used in the sense of ‘to control, to rule’; “stringere” (to clip, prune). Alternatively,

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Let him seek the acorn tree.180 The deckèd181 woods seek not When thou violets gather, When with the Northy blasts The roaring fields affrights; Nor seek not thou with greedy hands The springing palms to weld;182 Grapes, if thou wish enjoy, In autumn Bacchus, rather, His gifts bestows. Times God assigneth fit For each man’s office183 best, Nor the turns184 that He appoints Suffers to be mixed. So whatso leaves, by reckless way, The certain rule, Joyful end shall never hit.185

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Prose 6 “First, then, suffer me186 with questions few thy mind’s state to touch, and it to prove, that better may I know of thy cure the way.” “Ask me,” quoth I, “according to thy will; what thou wouldst, my answers be.”187 Then she: “Thinks thou that this world is wheeled by rash and happing chance?188 Or dost suppose that reason’s rule is in it?”

Elizabeth may have construed “stringere” in the sense of ‘to bind’ and meant “to weld” in the sense of ‘to join.’ 183. For . . . office “propriis . . . . officiis” (for appropriate duties)—a probable reference to the seasons’ duties, not to humankind’s. 184. turns Elizabeth’s usual rendering of “vices”—here meaning ‘alternations,’ specifically, ‘seasons.’ 185. shall . . hit will never attain; “non habet” (does not have). 186. suffer me A question, “paterisne” (will you allow me?), rather than an exhortation. 187. my . . . be my answers will be (given). 188. by . . . chance by rash “temerariis.” Throughout, Elizabeth renders forms of Boethius’s “temerarius” and its cognates in the sense of ‘rash’ where the sense of ‘fortuitous, accidental’ is appropriate. happing chance A pleonasm replicating “fortuitisque casibus” (and by fortuitous chances). happing occurring by chance.

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certain thinges are Moued; but I Know that God the maker dot hit guides, nor euer shall com day that from truth of this opinion shall draw me. Its it so, quoth she, A little afore this thou hast tolde and hast bemonde that Men Were so furr from godes care of creat depriued; for With the rest thou art nothing Moued, but that With reason they Were led. Good Lord I Wonder Much when why pLaced in so right a Mynd thou canst be sick? But let Vs serch a little hyar. I Wote Not What, somewhat lackes I troWe. But tell Me, for that thou doutst Not the World by god be rulde, seest thou by What raynes it is guided. Scarce sa do I KnoW, said I, the meaning of the question, nor ne yet can I aunswer thy demandes, Yet Was I Not ignorant that somewhat Lackt? as the roote of a tree By which lik cliff front of Ramper21 shrinking, dist the minds woes disease into the mynde is crepte: but tell me doth dost thou remember What is the end of all And whither tended the intent of all Nature. I have hard it aunswered, but my Memory dampt soroW hath made. But who whom dost thou Know Wh all Whence all proceedes? I Know is god quoth I how And god is he I Know quoth I and aunswere And how can it be then, that begynning Knowen, the end of thing thereof thou KnoWest Not. But this is the fashon of troubles, and such is their Wont, that Mooue they may a Man from his place, But ouerthroW or Wholly pluck out Vp, they can Not. But this Wold I haue the aunswer, Remembrest thou thy self A Man? how What els quoth I should I not remember that? Canst thou tell Me What man is then? dost thou

21. cliff . . . Ramper cliff A variant spelling of “cleft.” Ramper A variant spelling of “rampart.” 189. Is it so? A statement in Boethius, not a question. 190. with . . . moved you are not at all perturbed in the case of the rest (nonhuman creatures). thou . . . moved A literal rendering of “nihil movebare.” 191. Good Lord An idiomatic equivalent of Boethius’s exclamation of surprise or wonder, “Papae autem!” 192. I wot . . . trow I wot . . . somewhat “I wot [i.e., know] not what” is a word-forword rendering of “nescio quid” (something or other), while “somewhat,” in its older sense of ‘something,’ provides the Latin phrase’s closest sense equivalent. trow believe.

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“I can no way think,” quoth I, “that with so rash chance, so certain things are moved. But I know that God the Maker it guides, nor ever shall come day, that from truth of this opinion shall draw me.” “Is it so?”189 quoth she. “A little afore this thou hast told and hast bemoaned that men were so far from God’s care deprived. For, with the rest, thou art nothing moved,190 but that with reason they were led. Good Lord,191 I wonder much why, placed in so right a mind, thou canst be sick. But let us search a little higher. I wot not what, somewhat lacks, I trow.192 But tell me, for that thou doubtest not the world by God be ruled, seest thou by what reins it is guided?” “Scarce do I know,” said I, “the meaning of the question. Ne yet193 can I answer thy demands.” “Was I ignorant, that somewhat lacked—by which, like cleft front of rampart shrinking,194 the woes’ disease into the mind is crept? But tell me, dost thou remember, what is the end of all, and whither tendeth the intent195 of all Nature?” “I have heard it,” [I] answered. “But, my memory damped,196 sorrow hath made.” “But whom, dost thou know, whence all proceeds?” “I know,” quoth I. “And God is He,” I answer. “How can it be, then, that beginning known, the end thereof thou knowest not? But this is the fashion of troubles, and such is their wont:197 that move they may a man from his place, but overthrow or wholly pluck up, they cannot. But this would I have thee answer, Rememberest thou thyself a man?” “What else?”198 quoth I. “Should I not remember that?” “Canst thou tell me what man is, then?”

193. Ne yet Nor yet. Elizabeth possibly misread “nedum” (much less) as “necdum” (nor yet). 194. Was . . . shrinking Was . . . ignorant “me . . . fefellit” (was I mistaken / deceived?). like . . . shrinking “velut hiante valli robore” (like the gaping strength of a palisade). shrinking giving way, collapsing. 195. tendeth . . . intent A replication of the wordplay in “tendat intentio.” 196. [I] . . . damped [I] answered Windebank evidently failed to hear or failed to record Elizabeth’s dictated “I”; Boethius reads “inquam” (I said). damped deadened. 197. wont habit; “valentia” (vigor). 198. What else? Certainly! “quidni?” (of course!).

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Ask Me this, whither that I Know that I Am a reasonable creature and mortall? I Know it, and that to be I Must confesse. Then she, Knowest thou Not thy self ought els? Nothing. but I Know quoth she, that the greatest cause of thy disease, is to have left to KnoW What thou art. Wherfore eyther fully have I founde the reason of thy sicknes, or a Waye to reconcile the home agayne. for being confounded through thy obliuion, thou hast Bewaylde thy self An exuL and spoyled of thine oWne goodes. but for being ignorant of thy end, thou hast supposde mighty and happy the Wicked folkes and lewde, and forgetting by What brydle the World is guided, the aventes22 of fortune thou supposest with out a guide to run. Great causes not only to disease But to ruin to. But thanked be thy host23 that Nature hath Not yet Wholly destroyed the. We haue the greatful foode for thy helth they true s opinion of the Worldes Rule, Whom thou belieuest not subiect to chaunce but Ru Rulde Ruled by diuine Reason. feare nought therfore. Allready from this little sparke thy helth is vitall heate is sprong. but because the tyme is Not yet for strongeR Remedyes, and that the Nature of the Mynde Myndes is such, that When they haue cast away the true, and are indued with false opinion by Which are a springing darknes of woe confoundes that true sight, I Will Assay a While therfore with lenitiues and meane fomentations to skant them that darKnes of deceauing affection remoouid the shyne of true light mayst obtayne

22. aventes events. 23. thy host Although underlining usually marks phrasing to be revised, no revision has occurred here. 199. But “iam,” which can mean “but” in negative and interrogative contexts but here has its most common sense, ‘now.’ 200. a way . . . again “aditum reconciliandae sospitatis” (an approach for restoring thy health). way probably intended literally as a ‘path’ (aditum). reconcile thee restore thee, recalling its Boethian cognate “reconciliandae.” home Elizabeth confuses “sospes” (safe, unharmed) and “sospitas” (health) with forms of “hospes” (host, guest) at several points; here she evidently construed “sospitatis” as ‘of a host,’ hence “home.” 201. lewd evil, wicked. 202. events occurrences; “vices” (changes, alternations). 203. thy host “sospitatis auctori” (to the cause of thy health), i.e., God. Elizabeth again confuses “sospitatis” with “hospitis” (of a host).

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“Dost thou ask me this, whether that I know that I am a reasonable creature and mortal? I know it; and that to be, I must confess.” Then she: “Knowest thou not thyself aught else?” “Nothing.” “But199 I know,” quoth she, “that the greatest cause of thy disease is to have left to know what thou art. Wherefore either fully have I found the reason of thy sickness, or a way to reconcile thee home again.200 For being confounded through thy oblivion, thou hast bewailed thyself an exile and spoiled of thine own goods. For being ignorant of thy end, thou hast supposed mighty and happy the wicked folks and lewd.201 And forgetting by what bridle the world is guided, the events202 of Fortune thou supposest without a guide to run: great causes not only to disease, but to ruin too. But thanked be thy host,203 that Nature hath not yet wholly destroyed204 thee. We have the grateful food205 for thy health, thy true opinion of the world’s rule, whom thou believest not subject to chance, but ruled by divine reason. Fear naught, therefore. Already from this little spark thy vital heat is sprung.206 But because the time is not yet for stronger remedies, and that the nature of the minds is such, that when they have cast away the true, are endued with false opinion, by which a springing darkness207 of woe confounds that true sight, I will assay awhile therefore with lenitives and mean fomentations208 to scant them, that darkness of deceiving affection removed, the shine of true light mayst obtain.”

204. hath . . . destroyed “destituit” (has forsaken), which Elizabeth presumably misread as “destruit” (destroys) and confused with perfect “destruxit” (has destroyed). 205. food “fomitem” (kindling), which Renaissance dictionaries noted could be used figuratively of “whatsoever incendeth, exciteth, or stirreth vehementlie to doe” something (Thomas Thomas). “Food” is used metaphorically in the Middle Ages and the early modern period for whatever nourishes something; the OED records a medieval sense of “material for keeping up a fire.” 206. already . . . sprung Elizabeth changes the tense of “iam . . . inluxerit” (soon . . . will blaze). 207. by . . . darkness by . . . springing from which (i.e., false opinion) rising; “ex quibus orta.” darkness “caligo” (fog, mist). 208. with . . . fomentations “lenibus mediocribusque fomentis” (with gentle and moderate fomentations / poultices). Elizabeth renders the adjective “lenibus” (gentle) with a cognate noun. mean moderate.

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7. M[yter] 24 Dim Cloudes Skie Close Light none Can a Loud afourd If Roling Seas boustius Sowth Mixe his fome Griny ons Like the Clirristz days the Water straigt moude sturd aL foule the Sigh gainsais straight moude sturd Vp al fouLe the Sight gainsais Running streame that poures from hiest hilz Oft is staid by SLaked stone of Rock thou if thou Wilt in Clirest Light the trothe behold by straight Lin

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24. 7. M[yter] Meter 7 is out of sequence in the manuscript as written; it immediately follows meter 6 on fols. 21r–22v. 209. Dim . . . close Dim clouds hide the sky; “Nubibus atris / Condita . . . / Sidera” (the stars / heavens hidden by black clouds). close keep out of sight, hide. 210. Light . . . afford Can yield no light; “nullum / Fundere possunt / Sidera lumen” (The stars / heavens can emit no light). While the subject of Boethius’s clause is the cloud-hidden heavens, Elizabeth’s subject could be construed as “sky,” “clouds,” or “none” (neither clouds nor sky). 211. If . . . foam This cryptic phrasing probably means “if the rough South [wind] stirs up the rolling seas’ foam.” Elizabeth follows Boethius’s word order: “Si mare volvens / Turbidus Auster / Misceat aestum” (If the turbulent South wind should disturb the sea rolling its swell). seas . . . his foam Probably means ‘seas’ foam,’ with “his” in place of “their.”

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Meter 7 Dim clouds Sky close,209 Light none Can afford.210 If rolling seas Busteous South Mix his foam,211 Greeny once Like the clearest Days, the water, Straight—mud Stirred up—all foul, The sight gainsays.212 Running stream That pours From highest hills Oft is stayed By slaked Stone of rock.213 Thou, if thou wilt In clearest light The truth behold, By straight line

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“His” and “their” following nouns can indicate possession in Renaissance English. Busteous variant of “boistous,” itself a variant of “boisterous,” here used in the sense of ‘rough.’ South the South wind. Mix stir up, rendering cognate “misceat.” 212. Greeny . . . gainsays This probably means ‘the water, once green, like clearest days, immediately all filthy with stirred-up mud, hinders the sight.’ Elizabeth again follows Boethius closely: “Vitrea dudum / Parque serenis / Unda diebus / Mox resoluto / Sordida caeno / Visibus obstat” (The wave, once glass-colored and similar to calm days, now filthy with stirred-up mud, hinders our sight). Greeny “vitrea” (glass-colored, greenish). straight straightaway, immediately. mud . . . foul “resoluto / Sordida caeno” (filthy with stirred-up mud). mud . . . up with mud stirred up. gainsays denies, hinders. 213. slaked . . . rock Probably means ‘a loosened stone of a cliff,’ rendering “Rupe soluti / Obice saxi” (with the barrier of a rock loosened from a cliff ). slaked loosened.

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hit in the pathe Chase Joyes repulse feare thrust out hope Wo not retaine Cloudy is the mind With snafle bound Wher they raigne

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heere endith the first booke25 25. heere . . . booke This rubric is in Windebank’s secretary hand, as is the heading immediately following. 214. Hit in Direct one’s course in a particular direction, rendering “carpere,” which has the contextual sense of ‘to press on along’ a road.

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Hit in214 the path, Chase215 joys; Repulse fear; Thrust out hope; Woe not retain. Cloudy is the mind, With snaffle216 bound, Where they reign.

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Here endeth the first book. 215. Chase Dispel, scatter, rendering “Pelle” (drive out, dispel). Elizabeth varies the diction by translating an emphatic second use of “Pelle” in the next line as “Repulse.” 216. With snaffle with bridle; “frenis” (with bridles, curbs). Elizabeth used the verb “snaffle” in a 1566 speech (CW, 93).

The second Booke. / 1. Pro[se] After this, a While she pawsde, and When my heede By my modest silence she markt, thus she Began: If alltogither thy cause of greefe and state I Know, thou pynest with the affection and want of former fortune. She so much in changyth the state of thy Mynde, As thou ymaginest ouerthrowes hit: I vnderstand the many sharp shaped deceites of her Wonder, and so farre exercisith a flattering familiaritie, with them she myndes deceaue till she confound With intollerable Woe, whom without hope she hath left. Whose nature, conditions and desert, if thou remember, thou shalt Know that thou hast Nether had Nor Lost by her Any thing ought Worth. but as I suppose, I shall Not Need to Labour Much to call these thinges to thy memory. for thou art Wont When she Was present and dicseved fLattered the, to inV inVay against her with manly Woordes in chassing her from our doores, With thy sentence invaydst her. But euery souden change neuer haps 1. my . . . marked “attentionem meam modesta taciturnitate collegit” (when she gained my attention by modest silence). marked observed; “collegit,” construed by Elizabeth in its senses of ‘gathered, inferred.’ 2. She . . . it Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “Ea tantum animi tui statum, sicuti tu tibi fingis mutata pervertit” (Changed Fortune, as you imagine, has cast down the state of your soul to such an extent). Elizabeth misread “mutata” (changed) as “mutat” (she changes) and fit the rest of the sentence to this misreading. 3. of . . . wonder “illius prodigii”—most easily construed as “of that notorious wonder / monster” (i.e., Fortune), with “illius” taken as an intensifier. But “illius” might be

The Second Book Prose 1 After this, a while she paused, and when my heed by my modest silence she marked,1 thus she began: “If altogether thy cause of grief, and state, I know, thou pinest with the affection and want of former Fortune. She so much changeth the state of thy mind, as thou imaginest, overthrows it.2 I understand the many-shaped deceits of her wonder,3 and so far exerciseth a flattering familiarity with them she minds deceive till she confound, with intolerable woe, whom without hope4 she hath left. Whose nature, conditions, and desert, if thou remember, thou shalt know that thou hast neither had nor lost by her anything aught worth. But, as I suppose, I shall not need to labor much to call these things to thy memory. For thou art wont, when she was present and flattered thee, to inveigh against her with manly words, in chasing her from our doors with thy sentence5 inveighedst her. But every sudden change construed as Elizabeth does, as referring in an ordinary possessive sense to the wondrous evil that Fortune produces. wonder A wondrous thing or a portent (for good or ill), but with older senses of ‘evil action’ or ‘destruction’; “wonder” thus captures various senses of “prodigium” (a marvel, evil portent, monster). 4. without hope A misconstrual of “insperata” (unforeseen), referring to Fortune’s unpredictable departure, not the state of her abandoned victim. 5. art . . . sentence art wont “solebas” (wert wont). chasing . . . sentence “de nostro adyto prolatis insectabare sententiis” (chased her with opinions taken from our shrine). Elizabeth confuses “adyto” (shrine) with “aditu” (doorway).

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without a greate streame of thye mynde, So doth it hap 1 that thou a While hast parted from thy ease. But tyme it is for thee to drawe and taste som sweeter thning and pleasant, which passing to the inward partes may make a Way for behoofuller draughtes. Let persuasion of sweete Rhetorik assist the, which then goith in rightest path only, When she Leaves Not our precepts. And When With this musick the guest of our home, sowndes now easyer now Weightyer Notes. What is it therfore O Man that that hastth2 throWne the down to Wo and Wayle? Thou hast seene I beleue some new Vnwonted thing, Thou yf thou thinkest that of toward the fortune be changed, Art deceaud. This Was euer her Nature, manner this was her nature She hat hath euer kept toward the, rather her own constancy in her mutabiltie. Such one Was she Whan she beguild the, and did deceaue with allurementes of false felicitie. Thou hast Vnderstode noW, the doutfull face of the blynde Goddesse, Which though she hyde her self to others, hath made her self to the manifest. Yf thou allow her vse her fashon, complayne not therof; Yf thou hast hatist her treason, sKorne her and cast her of. that so falsely begylde the. for she that Now is cause of thy Woe the self same ought by be of thy quyett. She hath left the Whom no man can be sure that Will not leave him. Canst thou beleeue of flyeng felicitie the precious? and can thy present Luck be deere to the: whych never faythfull in abode, and When she partes, bringes nought but Woe: And if nether she can be Kepte with iudgement, and Whan she flyes, makes them wretched, what ought else Meanith her flight than a show of a comming calamitie? for alone it suffisith not to beholde, What afore our eyes is sett, Wisdom the end of thinges beyond all measures. for

1. bifaL Correction in Elizabeth’s hand. 2. hastth Correction in Elizabeth’s hand. 6. stream flood, outbreak; “quodam quasi fluctu” (some sort of flood, i.e., disturbance). 7. thou “tu quoque” (even you). 8. sweeter . . . draughts sweeter “molle” (soft, gentle). way . . . draughts “validioribus haustibus viam” (the way for stronger potions). behoovefuller fitter, more necessary. 9. music . . . home Pulmann’s edition reads “cumque hac musica laris nostri vernula” (and with this Music, the house-slave of our home). Boethius figures Music—presumably, the metrics of his Meters—as Rhetoric’s servant. Elizabeth upgrades her to a “guest.” 10. woe . . . wail “maestitiam luctumque” (sadness and grieving). 11. If . . . thinkest Renders Pulmann’s reading, “Si tu . . . putas” (if you think).

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never haps without a great stream6 of the mind. So doth it befall, that thou7 a while hast parted from thy ease. But time it is for thee to draw and taste some sweeter thing and pleasant, which passing to the inward parts may make a way for behoovefuller draughts.8 Let persuasion of sweet Rhetoric assist thee, which then goeth in rightest path only, when she leaves not our precepts, and, with this Music, the guest of our home,9 sounds now easier, now weightier notes: “What is it, therefore, O man, that hath thrown thee down to woe and wail?10 Thou hast seen, I believe, some new, unwonted thing. Thou, if thou thinkest11 that toward thee Fortune be changed, art deceived. This was ever her manner; this was her nature. She hath ever kept toward thee rather her own constancy in her mutability. Such one was she, when she beguiled thee, and did deceive with allurements of false felicity. Thou hast understood now the doubtful12 face of the blind goddess, which, though she hide herself to others, hath made herself to thee manifest. If thou allow her, use 13 her fashion, complain not thereof; if thou hatest her treason, scorn her and cast her off, that so falsely beguiled thee.14 For she that now is cause of thy woe, the selfsame ought be15 of thy quiet. She hath left thee, whom no man can be sure that will not16 leave him. Canst thou believe flying felicity17 precious? And can thy present luck be dear, never faithful in abode,18 and when she parts brings naught but woe? And if neither she can be kept with judgment, and when she flies, makes them wretched, what aught else meaneth her flight19 than a show of a coming calamity? For alone it sufficeth not to behold what afore our eyes is set: wisdom the end of all measures; for her

12. doubtful ambiguous, rendering “ambiguos,” which here is closer to ‘changing, double-faced.’ 13. allow . . . use allow approve of. use use for your advantage (imperative); “utere.” 14. so . . . thee “perniciosa ludentem” (making a game of ruinations)—a reference to Fortune’s toying with humans. Here and elsewhere Elizabeth makes the addressee Boethius the object of what is expressed as more generalized outrage in her source text. 15. ought be “debuisset” (should have been, ought to have been). 16. will not she will not. 17. flying felicity “abituram felicitam” (felicity destined to leave). 18. And . . . abode And . . . dear “Et cara tibi est fortuna praesens” (And is Fortune, when present, dear to you?) faithful . . . abode “manendi fida” (trustworthy to remain). 19. with . . . flight with judgment “ex arbitrio,” better translated here as “at (your) will.” her flight “fugax” (a fleeting creature—i.e., Fortune).

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her Mutabilitie in both neither Makes her fortunes threates feared, nor her beguylinges Wistched3 Lastly, thou Must paciently beare, what so befalles in fortunes Courte, Whan once to her Yok thy neck thou bowest: but if thou Wilt prescribe her Lawe, to byde or parte, Whom thou hast freely chosen thy gouuernesse, shoulst thou not be iniurious and sharp short thy luck With thy impatience, which change thou canst Not? Yf thou Woldst throwe the the sayles to wynde, not Whither Will Wolde, but Whither the blast doth dryve rough Blast so furr thou goest. yf thou doo craVing Lend the furrowes seed, thou must beare with deere yeeres and barren: yf to fortunes guide thou hast betaken the, thou Must obey thy Dames conditions. doest Woldst thou stryve to staye the course of a turning Wheele? But a foole thou of all Mortall men the foolisht, if hap byde, it Leavith to be chaunce. 1. Myter This whan her proud hand changeth Cours And Euripus foming Like is throwne, WhiLowm that she fierce kings CrueL destroyes and LoWe Looke of of Won man4 deceitful raiseth She hereth not the Wretche nor hedeth not his teares Willingly skornes the sighs that Cu spitful she made

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3. Wist Correction in Elizabeth’s hand. 4. Won man Although underlined, the phrase does not need revision. Boethius reads “victi” (of conquered). 20. wisdom . . . both wisdom . . . measures “rerum exitus prudentia metitur” (prudence measures the outcome of things). her mutability “eademque . . . mutabilitas” (and the very mutability). in both “in alterutro,” i.e., in good and bad Fortune. 21. court An enclosed space, possibly one for sports like tennis (befitting Fortune the game player), possibly a royal court (befitting Fortune the capricious ruler); “auream” has similar possible senses. 22. sharp . . . luck sharp sharpen. luck Here, ill-fortune. 23. thou . . . barren dear years “Dear year,” a time of dearth, is an ancient idiom. and barren A pleonastic doubling. Probably misreading “feraces” (fertile) as “feroces” (savage, cruel), Elizabeth makes Boethius’s “feraces inter se annos sterilesque pensares” (you must balance barren years against fertile ones) a bleaker command to patiently bear dearth. She mistakes “feracior” for “ferocior” in book 3, meter 8, line 10.

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mutability in both20 neither makes her (Fortune’s) threats feared nor her beguilings wished. Lastly thou must patiently bear what so befalls in Fortune’s court,21 when once to her yoke thy neck thou bowest. But if thou wilt prescribe her law, to bide or part, whom thou hast freely chosen thy governess, shouldst thou not be injurious, and sharp thy luck22 with thy impatience, which change thou canst not? If thou wouldst throw the sails to wind, not whither will would, but whither the blast doth drive, so far thou goest. If thou do lend the furrows seed, thou must bear with dear years and barren.23 If to Fortune’s guide thou hast betaken thee, thou must obey thy dame’s24 conditions. Wouldst thou strive to stay the course of a turning wheel? But, thou of all mortal men the foolishest, if hap bide, it leaveth to be chance.”25 Meter 1 This, when her proud hand changeth course, And, Euripus-foaming-like, is thrown,26 Whilom she fierce kings, cruel, destroys,27 And low look of won28 man, deceitful, raiseth. She heareth not the wretch, nor heedeth not his tears, Willingly scorns29 the sighs that, spiteful, she made.

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24. If . . . dame’s If . . . thee Elizabeth treats as hypothetical what Boethius treats as fact: “te . . . dedisti” (you have given yourself). guide guidance. dame’s female ruler’s, mistress’s; “dominae.” 25. if . . . chance if chance were to stay, it would cease to be chance. 26. This . . . thrown This “Haec.” This one of whom we have spoken—Fortune. is thrown “fertur” (is borne). The simile compares Fortune’s behavior to the irregular ebbs and flows for which the Euripus strait, which separated the island of Euboea in the Aegean Sea from mainland Greece, was proverbial. 27. Whilom . . . destroys Whilom at some time in the past. Elizabeth seems to construe “dudum” (formerly) in “dudum tremendos . . . proterit reges” (she crushes oncedreaded kings) with the present tense verb rather than with the noun phrase “tremendos . . . reges” (dreaded kings). cruel “saeva.” Elizabeth’s adjective can refer either to “kings” or to “Fortune”; Boethius’s “saeva” must refer to Fortune. 28. of won of conquered; “victi.” Compare Elizabeth’s antonym, “unwon,” in book 1, n17. 29. Willingly scorns “Ultroque . . . . ridet” (And moreover . . . laughs at). Elizabeth misconstrues “ultro” (moreover) in another of its senses, ‘of one’s own accord.’

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Thus playeth she and so her strengh doth trie A Wondar great to hers, she shewes if any If any Wonman you VieW One houre / both thralz him and extolz

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2. Prose A few woordes wold I play pleade with thee on fortunes syde Thou then Marke thou then whither she call the Not in plea, Why me ô Man guilty dost thou Make of daily quarrells? What Wrong doo I thee? What goodes from thee whaue I drawne? pleade thou with or against me afore any Judge let me pleade then for the possession of thy goodes and dignities. p And if thou shoWest that Any Mortall Man haue propertie of Any of them, that thou pretendst thyne oWne, that thou Ask, Willingly I Will yelde. When Nature brought the forth out of thy Motheres Womb, Naked of all and Needy, I vp tooke the, and Nourisht the with my substance, and that that breedes noW thy rage, rage With speedy fauour carefully I bred the; And did indue with plenty and glory of all such thinges as Were My oWne. NoW is it tyme to now may I if I list draw away thy back back my hand, Yeld thankes for vsing not thyne oWne. Thou hast No Lawe for quarrell, As if thyne thyne oWne lost thou hadst. Why sighest thou than? With no Violence haue we Vsed the. goodes honour and all such lyke, of right Myne oWn, My Maydes Knowes their Lady, With me they com, and Whan I parte, they giue place. boldly I affirme, if thyne they Were that Lost thou complaynst, at all thou hast Not lost

30. to hers to her subjects. 31. one . . . extols “una stratus ac felix hora” (laid low, and happy, within a single hour). thralls brings into subjection. extols elevates. 32. on . . . side “fortunae ipsius verbis” (in the very words of Fortune). 33. whether . . . plea Responding to Philosophy’s judicial metaphors, Elizabeth evidently construes “ius” in “an ius postulet” (whether she demand what is just) in its concrete sense of ‘court of law.’ in plea to court. 34. Why . . . quarrels? “Quid tu o homo ream me cotidianis agis querelis?” (Why do you, O man, go to law with daily charges against me as a defendant?). quarrels complaints, legal accusations, cognate with “querelis.” guilty . . . quarrels The sense is probably, as in Boethius, that Fortune is being treated as guilty as the result of such daily accusations, not that she is being treated as guilty of making such accusations.

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Thus playeth she, and so her strength doth try; A wonder great, to hers30 she shows: If any man you view, one hour Both thralls him and extols.31

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Prose 2 “A few words would I plead with thee, on Fortune’s side.32 Mark thou, then, whether she call thee not in plea:33 “ ‘Why me, O man, guilty dost thou make of daily quarrels?34 What wrong do I thee? What goods from thee have I drawn? Plead thou against me, afore any judge, for the possession of thy goods and dignities.35 And if thou showest that any mortal man have property of any of them that thou pretendest thine own, that thou ask, willingly I will yield. When Nature brought thee out of thy mother’s womb, naked of all, and needy, I uptook thee and nourished thee with my substance.36 And that that breeds now thy rage, with speedy favor carefully37 I bred thee, and did endue with plenty and glory of all such things as were my own. Now is it time, now may I, if I list, draw back my hand. Yield thanks, for using not thine own.38 Thou hast no law for quarrel39 as if thine own, lost thou hadst. Why sighest thou then? With no violence have we used thee. Goods, honor, and all suchlike—of right, mine own. My maids knows their lady;40 with me they come, and when I part, give place.41 Boldly I affirm, if thine they were that, lost, thou complainest, at all thou hast42 not lost them.

35. dignities high offices, as in cognate “dignitatum.” 36. substance possessions, goods. 37. speedy . . . carefully speedy advantageous, helpful. carefully with much solicitude; “indulgentius” (overindulgently). 38. Now . . . own Now . . . list Elizabeth expands and adds conditional force to “Nunc mihi . . . libet” (Now it pleases me to). using . . . own being allowed to use what was not yours. 39. law . . . quarrel “ius querelae” (right of legal complaint). The phrase is either Elizabeth’s word-for-word rendering or Windebank’s mishearing of “lawful quarrel.” 40. My . . . lady Fortune metaphorically figures goods and honors as her slaves. 41. give place they get out of the way; “discedunt” (they leave). 42. hast Possibly Windebank’s mishearing of “hadst.”

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them: Am I Alone forbyd my right to Vse? The To heauens is lawfull to bring thee pleasant dayes and dark the same with the Misty nightes. To yeare is lawful adorne the earthes face with floures and frute, Som tyme With cloudes and coldes confound. The Sea May with quyet calme be pleasd, Now terrible by Waues and tempest. W the Vnsaciable desyre of Men, shall it bynd Vs to constancy? furr from our condition? This is our powre, this Contiynuall play We Make, The Wheele by turning Rolle we Whirle, and Joye the LoWest change With hyest, and hyest makes the same to Matche: Com Vp and you Will, but on that condition, that ye counte it Not iniury to descend Whan the fashon of My dalyance requires it. Wert thou ignorant of my conditions? Knewest thou Not Cresus King of Lydia, a little before fearfull to Cyrus, straight way wretched Man bequeathed to fLamy heate, defended from heauen by a Mist sent doWne? Dost thou not remember hoW Paul shed many teare An honest teare for the calamitie of Perseus King, whom he tooke? What does Tragedies clamour More bewayle, than A main5 turning happy Raigne by blynde fortunes stroke? Hast thou not Learnt that there lay in Jupiters thressholl, twoe barrells fyld all one with yll, the other of good? What yf thou suckest vp more Largely of the better part? What yf I left the Not all alone? What if this My right Mutabilitie haue bred the cause to hope for better? But be Not thou amasde, that sett in the common raigne of all other, to lyue lyve by thine oWne Lawe thou desyre desirest6

5. A main amain. 6. desirest Correction in Elizabeth’s hand. 43. my . . . use to exercise my right(s). 44. change . . . match change to change. highest . . . match make the highest equal the lowest, and vice versa. Elizabeth varies a chiastic repetition, “infima summis summa infimis mutare.” the same the aforesaid things, i.e., the lowest. 45. an’ if (a later sixteenth- and earlier seventeenth-century colloquialism). 46. conditions ways of behaving; “mores.” 47. Croesus The defeat of Croesus (ca. 595–546 B.C.E.), the last king of Lydia, at the hands of the Persian king Cyrus is recounted in Herodotus Histories 1.86–87. 48. Paul Aemilius Paulus won a victory over the king of Macedonia, Perseus, in 168 B.C.E. See Livy Ab urbe condita 45.7. The story as sketched here may derive from the play Paulus by the Roman tragedian Pacuvius (second century B.C.E.). 49. more . . . stroke more . . . than “aliud . . . nisi” (what else but that). amain violently. turning . . . stroke “indiscreto ictu fortunam felicia regna vertentem” (Fortune overturning happy reigns with an indiscriminate stroke).

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“ ‘Am I alone forbid my right to use?43 To heavens is lawful to bring thee pleasant days, and dark the same with misty nights. To year is lawful adorn the earth’s face with flowers and fruit, sometime with clouds and colds confound. The sea may with quiet calm be pleased, now terrible by waves and tempest. The unsatiable desire of men, shall it bind us to constancy far from our condition? This is our power; this continual play we make: the wheel by turning roll we whirl, and joy the lowest change with highest; and highest makes the same to match.44 Come up an’45 you will, but on that condition, that ye count it not injury to descend when the fashion of my dalliance requires it. Wert thou ignorant of my conditions?46 Knewest thou not Croesus,47 king of Lydia, a little before fearful to Cyrus, straightway wretched man bequeathed to flamey heat, defended from heaven by a mist sent down? Doest thou not remember how Paul48 shed many an honest tear for the calamity of Perseus, king, whom he took? What does tragedy’s clamor more bewail than, amain, turning happy reign by blind Fortune’s stroke?49 Hast thou not learnt that there lay in Jupiter’s threshold “two barrels filled, one with ill, the other of good”?50 What if thou suckest up51 more largely of the better part? What if I left thee not all alone? What if this my right mutability have bred thee cause to hope for better?52 But be not thou amazed that, set in the common reign of all other,53 to live by thine own law desirest.’ ”

50. learnt . . . good learnt Elizabeth does not translate “adulescentulus” (as a very young man), which occurs at this point. two . . . good Pullman’s text reads “δύο τοὺς πίθους τὸν μὲν ἕνα κακῶν τὸν δε ἕτερον καλῶν” (two jars, one of evils, the other of blessings). The quotation is from Homer Iliad 24.527–28. 51. suckest up Possibly Windebank’s mishearing of “suckedst up”; “sumpsisti.” Alliterating s’s are sustained in translation. Elizabeth activates one specific sense—‘to take food or drink’—of the verb “sumere,” which means in general ‘to take up, make one’s own.’ 52. What . . . better “Quid si haec ipsa mei mutabilitas iusta tibi causa est sperandi meliora” (What if this very mutability of mine is a rightful cause for you to hope for better?). Philosophy probably refers to the possibility of a reprieve for Boethius. my . . . mutability Elizabeth construes “iusta” with “mutabilitas” rather than “causa.” 53. be . . . other be . . . amazed do not be bewildered; “ne animo contabescas” (do not pine in your soul). set . . . other being set in a kingdom that is common to all men; “intra commune omnibus regnum locatus.”

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2. Myter. If starrye sandz suche store by raging flaWes as Stured Sea turns Vp Or Skies bidect with nighty stars The heuens aL that Lightz And suche welthe bestoWes Nor plenty with fullist horne Withdrawes her hand Mankind yet Ceaseth not thogh aL With waiLing mones beWaiL him thogh God his VoWes Willingly receues The LiberaL doLar of goLds plenty And gridy folke with honors great indues Naught to haue Got they seame But Cryi Egar Rauining deuouring What they had Stretcheth the Chawes for more What raignes Can drawes bak hedLong desiar to stable end Whan thirst of getting inflames The floWing man with Largist gifts No man thinkes him riche Who quaking mones beleues a beggar

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3. Prose. Yf fortune for her self had spoken thus to the, thou hadst no cause to grudge agaynst her, but if ought ther be Wherby thy quarrell by Law 54. sands . . . flaws sands . . . store so much abundance of sand. flaws As in book 1, meter 2, line 3, sudden bursts or squalls of wind; “flatibus” (by gales). 55. such . . . horn such so much. Elizabeth blurs the logical connection of the first three couplets by incorporating in two clauses with “such” (1, 5) three correlatives, “quantas” (1), “quot” (3), and “tantas” (5), that shape a hypothetical comparison: if plenty bestowed as much wealth (5–6) as there were sands (1–2) and stars (3–4). bestows “fundat” (should pour forth). Here, and for several later verbs in this Meter—“withdraws” (6), “ceaseth” (7), “endues” (11)—Elizabeth substitutes indicatives for subjunctives, thus obscuring Boethius’s imagining of an unreal condition. fullest horn The traditional image of the cornucopia or horn of plenty. 56. Though . . . . receive Even if God should accede to men’s prayers (“vota”). receive “excipiat” (were to accept). Elizabeth originally wrote the indicative “receives” but corrected herself to render Boethius’s subjunctive.

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Meter 2 If sands such store, by raging flaws,54 As stirrèd sea turns up, Or skies bedecked with nighty stars The heavens all that lights, And such wealth bestows, Nor plenty with fullest horn55 withdraws her hand, Mankind yet ceaseth not With wailing moans bewail him. Though God his vows willingly receive56 (The lib’ral Doler57 of gold’s plenty), And greedy folk with honors great endues, Naught to have got, they seem;58 But eager ravening, devouring what they had, Stretcheth the jaws for more.59 What reins can draw back Headlong desire to stable end,60 When thirst of getting inflames The flowing man with largest gifts?61 No man thinks him rich Who, quaking, moans, believes62 a beggar.

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Prose 3 “If Fortune for herself had spoken thus to thee, thou hadst no cause to grudge against her.63 But if aught there be whereby thy

57. (The . . . Doler [And were to be] the generous Dispenser; “prodigus.” 58. Naught . . . seem “Nil iam parta videntur” (Things that have already been gained seem as nothing). 59. what . . . more what . . . had “quaesita” (that which is sought for). Stretcheth . . . more “Alios pandit hiatus” (Spreads open other gaping jaws). 60. to . . . end “certo fine” (within settled bound). 61. The . . . gifts The man flowing with largest gifts; “largis . . . muneribus . . . fluens.” 62. thinks . . . believes thinks . . . rich “dives agit” (lives as a rich person). believes believes himself; “sese credit.” 63. thou . . . her “quid profecto contra hisceres non haberes” (you would assuredly not have anything to blurt out in reply). cause probably activates the legal sense of ‘case’ or ‘charge.’

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thou canst defend, tell it thou must; place to speake we giue. Than I fayre these be in show quoth I, and flowing florist oVer7 Retorik and musik with the honny of ther sweetnes, why they only delite whan they be hard, but deeper sense of yll the Wretched hath. Wherfore, when these haue don, to sounde our eares, ingraffed Wo our mynde oppressith. And she, So it is, sayd she, These for8 These be not yet remedyes for thy disease, but serues for bellowes against the cure of thy resisting sorowe, for When I see tyme, I shall apply such remedyes as shall pearce deeper, But leste thou shouldst suppose thy self a Wretch, Hast thou forgotten, the tyme and meane of thy felicitie? I leave Vntolde how desolate of parentes, the care of greatest men fosterd the, and chosen to affinitie of the cities Rulers, And that Kynde that is of Kyndred the neerest, first thou wert deere afore thou wert next. Who wold Not haue famed the most happy with so greate honour of father in Lawes, of Wyfes modestie, and seasonable obtayning of a Man childe. I ouerpasse (for so I Will common thinges) dignities receauid in youth denyed to older folkes: it pleasith me, That this is happed to the singuler heape of thy felicitie. Yf any frute of mortall thinges may beare a Waight of blessednes, can the memory of such a daye be scrapte out by any waight of groWing harmes? when thou hast seene twoo Consuls at once, thy children

7. florist oVer Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 8. for Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 64. quarrel . . . law legal complaint; “querelam . . . iure.” 65. these . . . sweetness these these arguments of Fortune. flourished-over . . . sweetness overadorned with Rhetoric and Music and with the sweetness of their honey; “oblitaque Rhetoricae ac Musicae melle dulcedinis” (daubed with the honey of rhetorical and musical sweetness). Either Elizabeth or Windebank has omitted “with” from the first phrase. 66. have . . . engraft have done have ceased. engraft engrafted (unrecorded in OED). 67. bellows . . . sorrow bellows Elizabeth construes “fomenta” (warm poultices or lotions) in a general and metaphorical sense, as an application that incites warmth, inspired by the cognate “foment” in the sense of ‘to warm.’ The Bibliotheca Eliotae and Thomas Thomas define “fomentum” as “a nourishing / nourishment of naturall heat.” Elizabeth later employs the cognate “fomentation.” against . . . sorrow “adhuc contumacis adversum curationem doloris” (of the sorrow still resisting against cure). By following Boethius in placing “sorrow” after “against cure,” Elizabeth makes it seem as if the “bellows” (poultice) rather than the “sorrow” were “against the cure.” Her “bellows against the cure” makes

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quarrel by law64 thou canst defend, tell it thou must; place to speak we give.” Then—“Fair these be in show,” quoth I, “flourished-over, Rhetoric and Music, with the honey of their sweetness.65 They only delight when they be heard. But deeper sense of ill the wretched hath. Wherefore, when these have done to sound our ears, engraft66 woe our mind oppresseth.” And she—“So it is,” said she, “for these be not yet remedies for thy disease, but serves for bellows against the cure of thy resisting sorrow.67 For when I see time, I shall apply such remedies as shall pierce deeper. But lest thou shouldst suppose thyself a wretch,68 hast thou forgotten the time and mean69 of thy felicity? I leave untold how, desolate of parents, the care of greatest men fostered thee; and chosen to affinity of the city’s rulers, and that kind that is of kindred the nearest: first thou wert dear afore thou wert next.70 Who would not have famed71 thee most happy, with so great honor of father-in-law’s, of wife’s modesty, and seasonable obtaining of a man-child? I overpass (for so I will, common things) dignities received in youth, denied to older folks. It pleaseth me that this is happed,72 to the singular heap of thy felicity. “If any fruit of mortal things may bear a weight of blessedness, can the memory of such a day be scraped out by any weight of growing harms?73 When thou hast seen two consuls at once, thy children,

better sense if “against” is given its early modern sense of ‘in preparation for,’ even though this diverges from the Latin. Perhaps she translates word for word while allowing English meanings irrelevant to the Latin to carry the sense. 68. thou . . . wretch “te existimari miserum velis” (you should wish to be thought a wretch). 69. time . . . mean “numerum modumque” (the number and measure / extent), a phrase translated with different resonances as “number and trade” near the end of this section. mean A standard early modern translation of “modus” in its ethical sense of ‘proper measure, moderation.’ 70. nearest . . . next nearest most closely affecting one; “pretiosissimum” (most valuable). nearest . . . dear Elizabeth adds the evocation of such expressions as “near and dear,” “nearest and dearest.” next nearest in kin; “proximus.” 71. would . . . famed “non . . . praedicavit” (did not proclaim). 72. is happed has come about by (good) Fortune. Elizabeth misconstrues “venire delectat” (it pleases me to come—to this point in my discourse). 73. of . . . harms of . . . day “illius . . . lucis” (of that day, of that splendor). of growing harms “ingruentium malorum” (of threatening evils).

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borne to accompanyed to with Nomber of the fathers, with the and peeples Joye, when they sitting in the Court as Curules though thou the Orator of kinges prayse, deseruest thou Not glory of wit and eloquence? when amidst them both thou satisfidest the expecttion of consuls with all the rowte, as with a liberall tryomph? Thou fLatteredst fortune as I suppose while she stroked the and cherisht as her darling, Thou tokest away the rewarde that to priuate man she neuer Lent afore, Will you now spurne at her? hathe she with a heavy eye now strayned the? Yf thou doo wayen9 the Nomber and trade of plesant and Wofull, thou canst not yet deny thy self happy: yf therfore thou thinkst Not thy self fortunate for seeming Joyes by past, No cause why thou thy self a Wretch suppose: for passe they doo that Woful now be thought. Camst thou now first into the stage of life, of a souden, and stranger? Supposest thou Any constancy to be in humayne Matters Whan speedy houre a Man himself Vndoes? for tho rare credit of abode owght happing chaunce to haue, Yett, the Last daye of lyfe may serue for fortune that remaynes. What Meanest thou to speake? Wilt thou leave her dyeng, or she thee slydng flying 3. M[yter]. In pooLe10 whan Φebus With reddy waine the light to spred begins The star dimed with flames opprissing 9. wayen An earlier infinitive form of the verb “weigh.” 10. pooLe pole, upper air; “polo.” 74. fathers’ . . . eloquence? fathers’ “patrum”— of the Conscript Fathers, i.e., of the Senate. curules “curules aediles”—one of a class of officers who used the official curule chair, adopted by the Romans from the Etruscans, and took their name from it. deservest . . . eloquence? Unlike modern editions, Pulmann punctuates “tu . . . meruisti” as a rhetorical question: “did you deserve?” Elizabeth’s negative phrasing, “deservest . . . not,” underscores the question’s rhetorical nature. 75. liberal triumph bountiful celebration; “triumphali largitione” (with the largesse befitting a “triumph”). 76. Will . . . her? “Visne igitur cum fortuna calculum ponere?” (Do you now want to settle your accounts with Fortune?) spurn at strike at. Elizabeth may have construed the idiom “calculum ponere” as ‘cast a stone.’ 77. Hath . . . thee? Elizabeth recasts an assertion as a rhetorical question. with . . . eye with a sad eye; “liventi oculo” (with an envious eye). strained distressed; “praestrinxit” (touched, weakened).

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accompanied too with number of the fathers’ and people’s joy, when they sitting in the court as curules, thou the orator of king’s praise: deservest thou not glory of wit and eloquence?74 When amidst them both thou satisfiedst the expectation of consuls with all the rout, as with a liberal triumph?75 Thou flatteredst Fortune, as I suppose, while she stroked thee and cherished as her darling. Thou tookest away the reward that to private man she never lent afore. Will you now spurn at her?76 Hath she with a heavy eye now strained thee?77 If thou do weigh the number and trade78 of pleasant and woeful, thou canst not yet deny thyself happy. If therefore thou thinkest not thyself fortunate for seeming joys bypast, no cause why thou thyself a wretch suppose: for pass they do, that woeful now be thought. Camest thou now first into the stage of life, of a sudden, and stranger?79 Supposest thou any constancy to be in human matters when speedy hour a man himself undoes? For though rare credit of abode ought happing chance to have, yet the last day of life may serve for Fortune that remains.80 What meanest thou to speak? Wilt thou81 leave her, dying; or she thee, flying?” Meter 3 In pole, when Phoebus, with reddy wain,82 The light to spread begins, The star dimmèd with flames oppressing

78. number . . . trade “numerum modumque” (number and measure / extent). trade course or way, rendering “modum” construed as ‘manner, way.’ See book 1, n78. 79. stranger as a stranger. 80. credit . . . Fortune credit . . . abode trustworthiness with respect to remaining; “manendi fides.” happing chance “fortuitis” (things that come by chance). serve . . . remains take the place of what Fortune remains; “mors quaedam fortunae est . . . manentis” (is a kind of death for what Fortune remains). Alternatively, Windebank may have misheard Elizabeth’s rendering “sever Fortune” as “serve for Fortune.” 81. What . . . thou A misconstrual based on Pulmann’s reading: “Quid igitur referre putas? Tune . . . ?” (Why therefore do you think it makes a difference? You . . . ?). Elizabeth’s rendering attends to the meaning of some individual words but not to the overall construction. Modern editions punctuate differently, to yield “Quid igitur referre putas, tune . . .” (Why do you think it matters whether you . . . ?). 82. pole . . . wain pole See book 1, meter 3, line 4. reddy wain rosy chariot.

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Pales her whitty Lookes Whan riVar wood with Siφirus11 mildding blast blusheth with the springing Roses And cloudy Sowthe bloWes his breth he his blustering blastes AWay from stauke the beauty goes Sometime with Calmy fayre the Sea Void of Waues doth Run Oft boistrus tempestz the North With foming Seas turnes up If rareLy stedy be the Worldz forme If turnes so many hit makes Beliue sLippar mens Luckes trust that sLiding be ther goodz Sure Certain and in Eternal Law is Writ, Sure standeth naugh is made

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4. Prose Than I, truth hast thout thou told me, ô of all Vertue the nursse, Nor can I blame the speedy course of My prosperitie, but this is it, that considering, Most Vexith me, that in All fortunes aduersitie I finde this Most Miserable to haue bene happy. That thou quoth she, byd blame of beares payne for false opinion, that Rightly thou oughtest Not on matters themsellves impose. for if the Vayne Name of gliding chauncing felicitie Mooue the, Repete With me, With how Many and great thou who delited aboundest. Yf the preciousest of all thou didst possesse of so in fortunes Censure, that to thy self vnharmed or broken be kepte, 11. Siϕirus Zephyrus. 83. star . . . looks Boethius’s “stella” refers not, as in Elizabeth, to a single ‘star’ but rather to a ‘constellation,’ as “albentes vultus” (white faces) reveals. 84. Zephyrus’ . . . springing Zephyrus’ the West wind’s. milding becoming or making mild; “tepentis” (of mild [Zephyr]). springing springtime (“vernis”), also perhaps with the modern sense of ‘sprouting.’ 85. South . . . stalk South the South wind; “Auster” (the South wind); see book 1, n211. blasts “spiret” (lets blow). from stalk “spinis” (from thorns). 86. Sometime “saepe” (often). Elizabeth translates “saepe” as “oft” in line 11, preferring variety to parallelism. 87. Believe . . . goods Believe men’s fortunes to be slippery and that their good experiences are unreliable. Boethius reads “Crede fortunis hominum caducis, / Bonis crede fugacibus” (Trust in men’s transitory fortunes, / Trust in fleeting goods”). Elizabeth turns

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Pales her whitey looks.83 When wood, with Zephyrus’ milding blast, Blusheth with the springing84 roses; And cloudy South his blust’ring blasts, Away from stalk85 the beauty goes. Sometime86 with calmy fair, the sea Void of waves doth run; Oft boisterous tempests the North With foaming seas turns up. If rarely steady be the world’s form, If turns so many it makes, Believe slipper, men’s lucks; Trust that sliding be their goods.87 Certain, and in eternal law is writ: “Sure standeth naught is made.”88

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Prose 4 Then I: “Truth has thou told me, O of all virtue the nurse; nor can I blame89 the speedy course of my prosperity. But this is it that, considering, most vexeth me: that in all Fortune’s adversity I find this most miserable, to have been happy.” “That thou,” quoth she, “bears pain90 for false opinion, that rightly thou oughtst not on matters themselves impose. For if the vain name of chancing felicity move thee, repeat with me, with how many and great91 thou aboundest. If the preciousest of all thou didst possess in Fortune’s censure—that to thyself, unharmed or broken be kept— Boethius’s ironic exhortation to trust in transitory pleasures into a serious command to believe in Fortune’s fickleness. sliding slippery, unreliable. goods good experiences; pleasures. 88. Sure . . . made Nothing that is made stands firm. naught . . . made Boethius’s “genitum nihil” (nothing that is begotten) implicitly distinguishes transitory creatures from the eternal God. To similar effect, Elizabeth’s “naught [that] is made” echoes “ea quae facta sunt” (the things that have been made) in Romans 1:20 (Vulgate). 89. nor . . . blame Pulmann’s edition reads “nec possum inficiari” (nor can I deny), using a variant spelling of “infitiari” (deny). Elizabeth perhaps confused “inficiari” with “inficere” (stain, poison). 90. pain punishment; “supplicium.” 91. repeat . . . great repeat “reputes” (you should consider), evidently confused with “repetas” (you should repeat). how . . . great how many and great things.

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canst thou When best thinges be retaynde, complayne by right, of yll hap? Safe doth remayne Symmachus thy father in Lawe, of all Mankynde most worth, And that with price of lyfe thou careles should not buye, that Man made of Wisdom and Vertue, sure of his oWn Mones for thy Wronges. Thy Wyfe of modest Wit, excelling for her shamfastnes, and that all her guiftes in short I may include, her father lyke lyuith, I saye, and Keepingith thy spirit, though hatyng lyfe, from Which depriued my self Will graunte skanten thy felicitie, And for Lack of the, with teares and Woe pynith. What shall I speake of thy children Consuls, whoms fathers and grandfathers Witt appeerith as their Yong Yeeres permitt. Whan then the chefest care for Mortall men is to be lyfe to keepe, ô happy thou yf knoW thou couldst thy good, to Whom such thinges do hap, as No Man doubtes the deerest thinges12 in lyfe. Dry Vp therfore thy teares. fortune hath not yet hated all men, nether hath to greeuous a tempest ouerwhelmed the, for Ankers holde remaynes, Which neither suffers present comfort, nor comming hope to Leave the. And let them holde quoth I fast still I pray. for they enduring, hoWsoeuer the World goes, out We shall Wade; But you see quoth I hoW much honour we have Lost. Then she, We will help the, yf thou be Not weary of all thy Lott. But I can not abyde such your delytes, of which as depriued of som of thy felicitie, Wayling and careful thou complaynst. for What man is of stayd felicitie, that quarrels Not with some degre of his estate? Carefull is the condition of mans goodes, Which eyther Neuer all happs, or euer bydes. This 12. thinges Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 92. Fortune’s . . . right Fortune’s censure judgment of—i.e., concerning—Fortune, rendering Pulmann’s reading “omni fortunae censu” (the whole reckoning of fortune). Modern editions and all other sixteenth-century editions consulted read “omni fortunae tuae censu” (the whole reckoning of your fortune). thyself Elizabeth does not translate “diuinitus” (by divine providence), which follows at this point. broken To be construed as ‘unbroken’ in conjunction with ‘unharmed’; “inviolatum” (inviolate, unbroken). by right aright; “iure” (justly, rightly). 93. (and . . . own (and . . . buy) “et quod vitae pretio non segnis emeres” (and that which you would not be sluggish to buy at the cost of your life). Boethius’s clause has the force of a parenthetical insertion. The negative particle attaches to “careless,” not “buy.” sure . . . own confident regarding his own (troubles); “suarum securus” (free from worry about his own). 94. modest . . . spirit of . . . wit of temperate, demure mind; “ingenio modesta.” Elizabeth’s phrase has an unfortunate ambiguity. her father [like]) “pater similis” (like her father). Elizabeth evidently dictated “her father like,” which Windebank originally wrote. But the sequence “like liveth” evidently confused him, and he mistakenly deleted

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canst thou, when best things be retained, complain by right,92 of ill hap? Safe doth remain Symmachus, thy father-in-law, of all mankind most worth (and that with price of life thou, careless, should not buy); that man, made of wisdom and virtue, sure of his own,93 moans for thy wrongs. Thy wife, of modest wit, excelling for her shamefastness (and, that all her gifts in short I may include, her father [like]) liveth, I say, and keepeth thy spirit,94 though hating life (from which deprived, myself will grant, scanten thy felicity);95 and for lack of thee, with tears and woe pineth. What shall I speak of thy children, consuls, whose father’s and grandfather’s wit appeareth as their young years permit? When then the chiefest care for mortal men is life to keep, O happy thou, if know thou couldst thy good, to whom such things do hap, as no man doubts, the dearest things in life.96 Dry up therefore thy tears. Fortune hath not yet hated all men;97 neither hath too grievous a tempest overwhelmed thee, for anchors’ hold remains, which neither suffers present comfort nor coming hope to leave thee.” “And let them hold,” quoth I, “fast still, I pray. For, they enduring, howsoever the world goes, out we shall wade.98 But you see,” quoth I, “how much honor we have lost.” Then she: “We will help thee,99 if thou be not weary of all thy lot. But I cannot abide such your delights as, deprived of some of thy felicity, wailing and careful,100 thou complainest. For what man is of stayed felicity, that quarrels not with some degree of his estate? ‘Careful’ is the condition of man’s goods, which either never all haps,

“like.” liveth . . . spirit “vivit . . . tibi tantum . . . . spiritum servat” (lives for you alone . . . keeps her life-spirit). 95. (from . . . felicity) the deprivation of whom—i.e., Boethius’s wife—I myself will concede, to diminish your happiness; “quoque uno felicitatem minui tuam vel ipsa concesserim” (and even I must concede that in this alone is your happiness lessened). Boethius’s parenthetical clause refers to what follows, the wife’s tears of longing; Elizabeth adds “from which [i.e., whom] deprived” to provide a clearer reference. 96. When . . . life When then Since then; “Cum igitur” (Now although). dearest . . . life “quae vita . . . esse cariora” (that are dearer than life). 97. all men “omnes”—in context, a reference to Boethius’s family. 98. out . . . wade we shall escape, perhaps also with the sense of ‘walk through water’; “enatabimus” (we shall escape by swimming). 99. We . . . thee “Promovimus . . . aliquantum” (we have made a little progress). 100. But . . . careful But . . . delights Elizabeth’s word-for-word rendering of “Sed delicias tuas ferre non possum.” The sense is ‘I cannot bear your luxuriating in your grief.’ careful anxious. This and the subsequent “careful” render forms of “anxius.”

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man hath honour, but his blotted blud shames him. This man Nobilitie Makes famous, but inclosed with Neede, rather Vnknowen he choosith: An other Man having both, the sole lyfe bewayles: An other for Mariage happy, childles keeps his goodes for An other heire. Some Joye with children, with teares bemoanes the faultes of sonne or daughter, No man therfore easely agrees with his fortunes state. generall to all, that the Vntryed Knowes Not, thexpert abhorrith. Add to withall that ech man hath A most delicate sense of his oWn felicitie, And Without all hap to his bek beck, throwen down he is, with any Vnwontid aduersitie, though in leste matters. Bef by such tryfles they be that drawes from happyest Men the top of bLiss. HoW many be there supposest thou that Wold think them Nerest heauen, if skraps of thy fortune hap to thy ther13 share? This place which thou thy st bannishment them calld is the wh inhabitantes countrey, so nothing is Wretched but When it is thought so,14 and blessed is all luck that haps With sufferers ease. What Man is so happy that hath giuen hand to impatience, that Wisshith Not his fortune changed? The sweetnes of Mans lyfe, with how many bitternesses is it mixt, which if they seemid to the enioyer delitefull When he Wolde, it is gon, therfore he may not Keepe it. The blessednes of Mortall goodes, plainly is Miserable, that nether perpetually duryth With the contented, nor Wholly delites the afflicted / What th Why doo ye Mortall men seeke outwardly your felicitie sett withou Within you? Error and blyndnes confoundes

13. ther Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 14. which . . . calldst . . . so Insertions above the line and correction in Elizabeth’s hand. 101. ever In this context—never; “numquam.” Elizabeth here and elsewhere uses one negative conjunction to negate two verbs. Compare “broken” for ‘unbroken’ in n92 above. 102. honor A misconstrual of “census”—literally, ‘register of property,’ hence, ‘riches.’ 103. enclosed . . . unknown enclosed . . . need fenced in by poverty. unknown to be unknown. 104. both . . . sole both riches (“honor” in Elizabeth) and noble birth. sole unmarried; “caelibem.” 105. Some . . . children Someone who is joyful to have children. 106. General . . . abhorreth It is common in all things, that what the inexperienced person does not know about, the person who has experienced it abhors. untried, expert “inexpertus,” “expertus.” 107. each . . . beck each . . . felicity Elizabeth misconstrues “felicissimi cuiusque delicatissimus sensus est” (the most fastidious sense belongs to the one who is most

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or ever101 bides. This man hath honor,102 but his blotted blood shames him. This man nobility makes famous but, enclosed with need, rather unknown103 he chooseth. Another man having both, the sole104 life bewails. Another, for marriage happy, childless keeps his goods for another’ heir. Some joy with children,105 with tears bemoans the faults of son or daughter. No man therefore easily agrees with his fortune’s state. General to all, that the untried knows not, the expert abhorreth.106 Add too, withal, that each man hath a most delicate sense of his own felicity; and, without all hap to his beck,107 thrown down he is with any unwonted adversity, though in least matters. Such trifles they be that draws from happiest men the top of bliss. “How many be there, supposest thou, that would think them nearest heaven, if scraps of thy fortune hap to their share? This place, which thou thy banishment callest, is the inhabitants’ country. So, nothing is wretched but when it is thought so; and blessed is all luck that haps with sufferer’s ease.108 What man is so happy that hath given hand to impatience,109 that wisheth not his fortune changed? The sweetness of man’s life, with how many bitternesses is it mixed! Which, if they seemed to the enjoyer delightful, when he would, it is gone; therefore he may not keep it.110 The blessedness of mortal goods plainly is miserable, that neither perpetually dureth with the contented nor wholly delights the afflicted.111 Why do ye mortal men seek outwardly your felicity within you? Error and blindness

happy). delicate fastidious, dainty. without . . . . beck unless everything happens according to his whim. 108. with . . . ease “aequanimitate tolerantis” (with the equanimity of the one suffering it). 109. hath . . . impatience once he has given a hand to impatience. Elizabeth’s word-forword rendering of “dederit inpatientiae manus” may indicate her misunderstanding of its idiomatic sense, ‘has yielded to discontent.’ Alternatively, she may be employing the early modern idiom “give hands to,” in the sense of ‘consent to.’ 110. they . . . it they seemed “videatur” (it seems). Elizabeth initially makes plural “bitternesses” the subject, rather than singular “sweetness.” when . . . it A garbling of “tamen quo minus cum velit abeat retineri non possit” (yet it [the sweetness] cannot be prevented from leaving when it will). Elizabeth misconstrues “cum velit” (when it will) as referring to the enjoyer rather than the happiness enjoyed. 111. afflicted depressed, dejected; “anxios.”

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you. I will shew the shortly the thressholl15 of thy felicitie, Is there to the ought More precious than thy self? Nothing, quoth I. Then if thou be wise thou shalt possesse that Nether thou canst Lose, Nor fortune take away. And that thou Mayste Knowe felicitie Not to stand in happing chaunces, Consider it this. Yf happynes be thy the greatest good of Nature dwelling in lyuing by Reason nether is it greatest good hit nor it hit16 the greatest good that may be taken away, the cause it doth exceede that may Not so, It is manifest that fortunes ma change can Not attayne to the obtayning getting17 of bliss. Besydes, whom falling felicitie caryes, eyther knoWith haue her18 or seeth her Mutabilitie. Yf he be ignorant, What happy luck can blynde felicitie haue? Yf he Know it, he Must needes feare to Lose that he is sure can not be Kepte. His contynuall feare then, p depriuith his happyness. for or if he haue Lost, will he not care for it? for hit19 should it be a sLender good, that a Man will wold20 easely Lose. And because thou art the same that art persuaded and holdes it sure by many demonstrations, Mens Myndes not to be Mortall, and when it is playne, that chauncing feliciite the With21 bodies death is finished, No man can doubte, Can this bring felicitie, but rather all mortall folkes in deathes misery by22 deathes end is brought. Yf many We Knowe to haue sought the frute of bLessednes not only by death, but by Woes and tormentes, for that suerite May a how can the present lyfe may make them happy hoW whom Miserable the past passed tyme passed could not?

15. thressholl threshold. 16. hit Correction and insertion, and identical ones immediately following, in Elizabeth’s hand. 17. getting Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 18. her Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 19. hit Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 20. wold Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 21. With Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 22. by Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 112. threshold “cardinem”—literally, the hinge on which a door swings at the threshold, and, figuratively, the crucial factor. 113. “Nothing . . . I Elizabeth turns into direct discourse a response that Philosophy merely imputes to Boethius: “Nihil inquies” (Nothing, you will say). 114. wise “tui compos” (in control of yourself). 115. this Elizabeth occasionally uses “this” with the force of ‘thus’ in her writings. 116. of nature . . . so of nature . . . reason of a nature that lives by reason, of a rational creature (like a human being). nor it nor is it. [b]ecause “quoniam.” Windebank

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confounds you. I will show thee shortly the threshold112 of thy felicity. Is there to thee aught more precious than thyself?” “Nothing,” quoth I.113 “Then if thou be wise,114 thou shalt possess that neither thou canst lose nor Fortune take away. And, that thou mayst know felicity not to stand in happing chances, consider it this.115 If happiness be the greatest good of nature living by reason, nor it the greatest good that may be taken away, [b]ecause it doth exceed that may not so;116 it is manifest, that Fortune’s change cannot attain to the getting of bliss. Besides, whom falling felicity carries, either knoweth her or seeth117 her mutability. If he be ignorant, what happy luck can blind felicity have? If he know it, he must needs fear to lose that he is sure cannot be kept. His continual fear, then, depriveth his happiness. Or, if he have lost, will he not care for it?118 For it should be a slender good that a man would easily lose. And because thou art the same that art persuaded, and holds it sure by many demonstrations, men’s minds not to be mortal; and when it is plain, that chancing felicity with body’s death is finished, no man can doubt, can this bring felicity, but rather all mortal folks in misery by death’s end is brought.119 If many we know to have sought the fruit of blessedness not only by death but by woes and torments—for that how can the present life make them happy, whom miserable time passed could not?”120 evidently misheard “because” as “the cause.” it doth . . . so that which may not be taken away is superior (to that which can be taken away). 117. or seeth “vel nescit” (or does not know). Either Elizabeth or Windebank omitted a “not.” 118. will . . . it? “neglegendum putat?” (does he think it a negligible matter?). 119. and when . . . brought and when and since; “cumque” (with subjunctive). chancing . . . finished “fortuitam felicitatem corporis morte finiri” (the fortuitous happiness of the body is ended with death]. Elizabeth’s construal of “corporis” (of the body) with ‘morte’ (death) rather than with ‘felicitatem’ (happiness) is syntactically possible but weakens Boethius’s contrast between false bodily happiness and true happiness. can this . . . felicity that this (bodily happiness) can bring felicity. Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads “sed haec affere beatudinem potest” (but that this can bring happiness). “Sed” is an error, corrected in 1580, to the standard reading, “si” (if). The sense, obscured by Pulmann, is that even if bodily pleasure brings happiness, such happiness ends in death. is brought “labatur” (falls). 120. for . . . how because how . . . ? miserable . . . not time passed could not make miserable. time passed Renders “quae . . . transacta,” referring to the passing of what only seems to be happiness.

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4. Myter Who warely a Lasting seat wiL setteL Who lasting WyL Wary setteL seat, And stable not of Roring Eurus blastz ben overcome won, And Careth skornes the waues of thretning Sea Shuns Soking Sandes and top of hiest mount One in the froWard Southe With alL his affrightz The other Lovsed23 refuse A hanging Waight to beare flying perillous Lot Of pleasantz Seat On LoWe stone remember thy house sure to place Thogh Wynd blowe Myxing Waters to botom Thou happy plast in strengh Of quietz Rampar Easy happy shalt Liue And smiLe at Skies Wrathe

[5]

[10]

[15]

[20]

23. Lovsed loosed. 121. Who . . . seat Who, as a wary person, wishes to establish a lasting home. 122. Eurus’ . . . won Eurus’ the Southeast wind’s. been won to be overcome by; “been” with the past participle was a sixteenth-century form of the passive infinitive. 123. careth scorn takes care to avoid; “Curat spernere.” 124. soaking sands “bibulas . . . . harenas.” In this context, ‘thirsty (desert) sands,’ though “bibulas” can mean ‘sodden.’ Elizabeth reverses the sequence of mountain and sands.

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Meter 4 Who lasting will, Wary, settle seat,121 And stable, not of roaring Eurus’ blasts been won;122 And careth scorn123 The waves of threat’ning sea, Shuns soaking sands,124 And top of highest mount. One, the froward South, With all his affrights;125 The other, loosed, refuse A hanging weight to bear.126 Flying perilous lot Of pleasant’st seat, On low stone, remember Thy house sure127 to place. Though wind blow, Mixing waters to bottom, Thou, happy placed in strength Of quiet’s rampart,128 Happy shalt live, And smile at sky’s wrath.

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125. One . . . affrights “Illud protervus Auster / Totis viribus urget” (The one—i.e., the mountaintop as prospective building site—the vehement South wind / Drives at with all its violent force). Elizabeth’s couplet lacks a verb, though perhaps “affrights” does double duty as a noun rendering “viribus” and a verb rendering “urget.” 126. The other . . . bear “Hae pendulum solutae / Pondus ferre recusant” (The others [desert sands], loosened, / Refuse to bear a heavy-hanging weight). loosed loosened. 127. sure “certus” (certain, confident). Elizabeth’s “sure” may refer to the “sure” or ‘confident’ person, as in Boethius, or to the “sure” or ‘safe’ home. 128. happy . . . rampart “conditus quieti / Felix robore valli” (Settled in quiet, / Happy in the strength of a rampart).

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5. Prose. But because the fomentations of my reason haue entred in the, I suppose I must Vse som stronger remedies. Go to. yf now the giftes of fortune be Not fLeeting and changeable, What is ther that eyther thou canst make thyne, or if thou seest and perceuist, Wilt not dispise? Are riches eyther thyne or by their Nature pretious? What is the golde therof? but heape of gathered pence? And such as shynes More with their spending than with their heapes. hatefull Men doth Auarice macke,24 but bountie Noble. And if it can Not byde by A Man that is giuen to An other, Than Monny is most pretious When turnd to others by Vs Liberall Vse, hath lost the possession. The same, if but with one abyde, from hoW Many it be pluckt, the rest it leaves full Needy. The fame therof fills Many mens eares, but Riches not distributed may Not passe to Many: Which when they ha it is don, they must Make poWer poorer Whom they leave. O sKant and needy riches, Which neyther is all to gain is not lawfull for Many to haue and com not to Any one without they begger of the rest. Doo Jewels luster drawe thyne eyes? Yf Any beauty they haue, it is the stones be light not Mens; Which I muse why men so admire. for What is there that wantes a spirit and lymmes partage, that Justly May seeme fayre to the Myndes and Reasons nature? Which tho as Creators goodes and his diuisions, may draw som Later beaut beauty, placed it Vnder your Worth, no way deserue your Wonder. doo sick mens palenes please 24. macke make. 129. some stronger somewhat stronger; “paulo validioribus.” This sense of “some” with a comparative was common in sixteenth-century English. 130. Go . . . despise? Go to An exhortation with the force of ‘Come, now!’—equivalent to Boethius’s “age.” if now . . . not fleeting Elizabeth’s hypothetical renders Boethius’s contrary-to-fact “si . . . caduca . . . not essent” (if they were not fleeting [but they are]). what . . . despise? Elizabeth substitutes indicatives for subjunctives. canst . . . thine “vestrum . . . fieri queat” (could become yours). if thou . . . perceivest “perspectum consideratumque” ([when] thoroughly inspected and considered). wilt not despise “non . . . vilescat” (would not become worthless). 131. What . . . pence Pulmann’s edition reads “Quid earum potius, aerumne an vis congestae pecuniae?” (What exactly of riches [is precious]: the gold itself or the value of the heaped-up money?). 132. noble illustrious, celebrated; “clarus” (famous). 133. hath . . . possession “desinit possideri” (it ceases to be possessed). 134. The same . . . needy The same thing, money, if it were to stay with just one man: from as many people as it were plucked, it would leave them all poor. Elizabeth’s “from

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Prose 5 “But because the fomentations of my reason have entered in thee, I suppose I must use some stronger129 remedies. Go to, if now the gifts of Fortune be not fleeting and changeable, what is there that either thou canst make thine, or, if thou seest and perceivest, wilt not despise?130 Are riches either thine, or by their nature precious? What is the gold thereof, but heap of gathered pence?131 And such as shines more with their spending than with their heaps: hateful, men doth avarice make; but bounty, noble.132 And if it cannot bide by a man, that is given to another, then money is most precious when, turned to others by liberal use, hath lost the possession.133 The same, if but with one abide, from how many it be plucked, the rest it leaves full needy.134 The fame thereof fills many men’s ears,135 but riches, not distributed, may not pass to many: which, when it is done, they must make poorer whom they leave. O scant and needy riches, which all to gain is not lawful for many, and come not to anyone, without they beggar the rest. “Do jewels’ luster draw thine eyes? If any beauty they have, it is the stones’ light, not men’s, which I muse why men so admire. For what is there that wants a spirit and limbs’ partage that justly may seem fair to the mind’s and reason’s nature?136 Which though, as Creator’s goods and His divisions may draw some latter beauty,137 placed under your worth, no way deserve your wonder. Do sick men’s paleness please

how many it be plucked” misconstrues “si . . . quanta est ubique gentium congeratur” (if . . . however much money there is everywhere in the world were heaped together). 135. The fame . . . ears “Et vox quidem tota pariter multorum replet auditum” (And a voice fills the hearing of many equally). Boethius’s point is that, unlike money, a sound need not be divided to reach many people. 136. wants . . . nature wants . . . partage Like most sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s edition reads “carens animae motu atque membrorum compage” (lacking the movement of a living spirit and a structure of limbs). wants lacks. limbs’ partage apportioning into limbs; the OED treats Elizabeth’s “partage” as a mistranslation of “compages” (structure). mind’s . . . nature “animatae rationabilique naturae” (to a living and rational nature). Elizabeth confuses “animatae” (living) with “animi” (of the mind). 137. as . . . beauty as . . . goods “conditoris opera” (by the effort of the Creator); Elizabeth mistakes “opera” with long a, the ablative of means of “opera” (activity, effort, work), for “opera” with short a, the nominative plural of “opus” (handiwork, achievement). and . . . divisions “suique distinctione” (by their difference [in appearance]). some . . . beauty “postremae aliquid pulchritudinis” (something of the last—i.e., lowest—

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you? What the els for it is a fayre portion of a goodly Woork. So somtymes We delite in face of smothest sea. So doo we Vew the heauen, the starres, sonne and Moone. doo Any of these touch the? darest thou boste at any of their Lusters? A Shalt thou be poynted out for the fLorishing springes sake, or shall thy plenty increase to sommer frutes? Why art thou drawne with Vayne Joyes? Why dost thou cherish others goodes for thyne? Fortune shall neuer Neuer make those thyne, that nature hath made other folkes? The earthes frutes doutles be due to best Nourishment, Yf thou Wilt fill the Neede that Nature Requires, thou Needest not seeke fortunes plenty. for with few or little nature is contented. Whose Ynough if thou Wilt make to Much, that Noyful Noyfull and Vnpleasant to taste Will make: But now Thou brinkest thinkest it beautifull to shyne With diuers garmentes, Whose show yf it please the eye, eyther they Will wonder at Nature of the substance, or the Witt of the Craftesman. But shall the long trayne of Many serVantes happy the, Who if they be of Vile condition, it is an yll burden for the house, and most fo foe to his Lord: but if euill good they be, how canst thou sett other mens Vertue among thy goodes? by Which all, It is playne seene, that those thou reckenst for thy goodes, is are none of thyne: In which if ther be No beauty obteyned got, What is it that thou waylest for losse, or Joyest to haue haue? If by nature they be fayre. What carest thou, for such thinges of themselves separated from thy substance should haue pleased. for precious they be Not to haue com among thy ryches: but because they Were precious, thou chosedst rather place them among among them. Why, Lack you fortunes

beauty). latter last—here, in the sense of last in estimation; “postremae.” Windebank’s spelling, “later,” is ambiguous. 138. Do . . . you? Elizabeth was misled by an error in her source. Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads nonsensically: “An vos aegrotumque [i.e., aegrotorumque] pulchritudo delectat?” (And does the beauty of sick men delight you?), corrected in 1580 to the standard reading, “agrorum pulchritudo” (beauty of fields). 139. What . . . goodly What else? Certainly; “quidni?” See book 1, n198. of . . . goodly of a good-looking; “pulcherrimi” (of the most beautiful). 140. others’ . . . thine “externa bona pro tuis” (others’ / outward goods as if they were your own). 141. beast’ “animantium” (of living creatures). “Beast” in early modern English could refer to any living being. Windebank wrote “best,” an early modern spelling of “beast.” Either Elizabeth intended an uninflected possessive “beast’” or she dictated “beasts’” and Windebank misheard.

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you?138 What else? for it is a fair portion of a goodly139 work. So, sometimes, we delight in face of smoothest sea; so do we view the heaven, the stars, sun, and moon. Do any of these touch thee? Darest thou boast at any of their lusters? Shalt thou be pointed out for the flourishing spring’s sake, or shall thy plenty increase to summer fruits? Why art thou drawn with vain joys? Why dost thou cherish others’ goods for thine?140 Fortune shall never, never make those thine, that Nature hath made other folks’. The earth’s fruits doubtless be due to beast’141 nourishment. If thou wilt fill the need that Nature requires, thou needest not seek Fortune’s plenty. For with few or little, Nature is contented. Whose ‘Enough’ if thou wilt make ‘Too much,’ that ’noyful and unpleasant to taste142 will make. “But now, thou thinkest it beautiful to shine with divers garments, whose show, if it please the eye, either they will wonder143 at nature of the substance or the wit of the craftsman. But shall the long train of many servants happy thee,144 who, if they be of vile condition, it is an ill burden for the house and most foe to his lord. But if good they be, how canst thou set other men’s virtue among thy goods? By which all, it is plain seen, that those thou reckonest for thy goods, are none of thine. In which, if there be no beauty got, what is it that145 thou wailest for loss or joyest to have? If by nature they be fair, what carest thou? For such things of themselves, separated from thy substance, should have pleased. For precious they be, not to have come among thy riches but, because they were precious, thou chosedest rather place them among them.146

142. ’noyful . . . taste “aut iniucundum quod infuderis fiet aut noxium” (what you shall have poured in will become either unpleasant or harmful). Elizabeth reverses two adjectives and turns “or . . . or” into “and.” ’noyful aphetic form of “annoyful,” meaning ‘annoying’ or ‘harmful.’ to taste Elizabeth plausibly takes “quod infuderis” (what you shall have poured in) as referring specifically to food and drink. 143. they . . . wonder the lookers-on will wonder (?); “mirabor” (I will wonder). 144. happy thee make thee happy. 145. got . . . that got “appetendae” (to be sought). what . . . that word-for-word rendering of “quid est quod” (what does it mean that?; why?). 146. not . . . them not . . . come i.e., not because they came. were precious “pretiosa videbantur” (seemed precious). thou . . . them you chose to place these precious things among your own riches.

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exclamation? I beleeue you seeke to beate away beggery with plenty: but this happes aWry, for ye had neede of Many helpes to preserue the Variety of deere goodes, And this is true: that they neede Many, that possesse muche. And agayne they lack leste, that nether mesure their oWn abundance by Natures necessitie, not Ambitions greedynes. But is it so? Is there [no]25 proper good ingraft in you of your own, that you should seeke it in outwar[d] and meane matter? Is the World so changed that the diuine Creature for Reason sake should no otherWise florish but that it neede possession of domm Ware? And all other thinges contented be with their oWne, but We he we lyke god of Mynde, shall We take the ornaments of excellent Nature from Basse thinges? Nor shall We not Vnderstand how the much therby We Iniure our Creatour? he wold haue Vs exceede all earthly thinges, You But We you throWese your Worth Among basest stuff, for if euery mans possession seemes more deere that it is his oWne, When the Meanest thinges the best you doo your own you Judge Wrong, to them you yeld y[ou] With your worthe: prising Which nott Without desert happs. for this is the state of humayn nature, that then it exceedes all other, Whan it self it KnoWes, but is made baser than Very beastes, if to KnoW it self, it leave. for naturall it is for other beastes not KnoW themselves, In man it is a Vice. how farre stretchith your arroWe, erroure Which doo supposte to be deckt with other mens ornamentes? for yf mu of outward thinges, Any lyke be had, those be praysde from Whence they cam: but if ought ther be

25. [no] The paper is torn away at the right margin of fol. 31r. We explain our emendation in n149 of our modern-spelling version. 147. Why . . . exclamation? Elizabeth renders “Quid autem tanto fortunae strepitu desideratis?” (What of Fortune, therefore, do you demand with such loud noise?). She construes the genitive “fortunae” with “strepitu” instead of “quid,” yielding “Fortune’s exclamation,” but it is unclear how she might have understood this phrase. lack miss. 148. ambition’s greediness “ambitus superfluitate” (by excess of ambition). 149. [no] The paper is torn away at the right margin of fol. 31r, where only the first stroke of n remains visible; Boethius reads “nullum” at this point. Reconstruction in the following instances, “outwar[d]” and “y[ou],” is equally straightforward. 150. mean “sepositis” (in remote). “Sepositus” can also mean, however, ‘choice, select, sumptuous,’ and Elizabeth probably construed the adjective as Lady Philosophy’s irony— hence, “mean.” 151. divine . . . ware divine . . . sake the creature who is divine on account of reason; “divinum merito rationis animal.” should . . . flourish Loosely renders “non aliter sibi splendere . . . videatur” (should appear splendid to himself in no other way). of . . . ware of senseless stuff; “inanimatae supellectilis” (of lifeless belongings).

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“Why lack you Fortune’s exclamation?147 I believe you seek to beat away beggary with plenty. But this haps awry, for ye had need of many helps to preserve the variety of dear goods. And this is true, that they need many, that possess much, and again they lack least, that measure their own abundance by Nature’s necessity, not ambition’s greediness.148 But is it so? Is there [no]149 proper good engraft in you of your own, that you should seek it in outwar[d] and mean150 matter? Is the world so changed, that the divine creature for reason’ sake should no otherwise flourish, but that it need possession of dumb ware?151 And all other things contented be with their own, but we, like God, of mind, shall we take the ornaments of excellent nature from base things, nor shall not understand how much thereby we injure our Creator?152 He would have us exceed all earthly things, but you throw your worth among153 basest stuff. For if every man’s possession seems more dear that it is his own,154 when the meanest things your own you judge, to them you yield y[ou] with your prizing, which not without desert haps.155 “For this is the state of human nature, that then it exceeds all other when itself it knows, but is made baser than very beasts, if to know itself it leave. For natural it is for other beasts not know themselves; in man it is a vice. How far stretcheth your error, which do suppose to be decked with other men’s ornaments?156 For if of outward things any like be had, those be praised from whence they came; but if aught

152. And . . . Creator? Boethius’s clauses are statements. we . . . we . . . we . . . our “vos,” “vestro” (you, your). Elizabeth seems to have forgotten that the speaker is the personified abstraction, Philosophy. the . . . things “ab rebus infimis excellentis naturae ornamenta” (ornaments from the lowest things for your own excellent nature). Elizabeth construes “excellentis nature,” a genitive used with dative sense, common in late Latin, as a possessive genitive. 153. us . . . among us “genus humanum” (humankind). among “infra” (below). 154. For . . . own “Nam si omne cuiusque bonum eo cuius est constat esse pretiosius” (For if it is manifest that any good belonging to any person is more valuable than he whose good it is). 155. the meanest . . . haps the meanest . . . judge “vilissima rerum vestra bona esse iudicatis” (you judge the cheapest things to be your goods). to . . . haps to them you submit yourself—as inferior—in your own estimation, which often happens not undeservedly. prizing valuing. 156. with . . . ornaments “ornamentis . . . alienis” (with alien ornaments). Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following phrase, “At id fieri nequit” (But that cannot be).

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hid or VnknoWen, bydes in his oWn spot. but I deny that is good, that harmes the hauer. doo I saye Vntruth? No, Wilt thou saye, And riches myght oft haue harmed their owners Whan ech Wicked man, to harme them oWneres (and therfore greedier of others goodes) hath that thought him only Woorthyest, that hath obtaynd golde or Jewelles. Thou that by the speare and sword carefully hast feared, if Wandering empty man, of this of lyfe parte thou the path hadst enterd, afore a theefe woldest sing, O beautfull hap of Mortall goodes, Which when thou hast taken, sure thou art hath left the / 5. M[yter]. happy to muche the formar Age With faithfil fild Content Not Lost by sLuggy Lust that Wontz the Long fastz son got Acorne to Louse by Sone graine that knew not baccus giftz With molten hony mixed Serike Shining flise Nor Sirchet With tirius venom die26 gracce grasse Sound Slipes27 Gaue the herbes ther drink the Running streme Shades gaue the hiest pine not The depth of Sea the fadomd not dryed

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26. Serike . . . die Serike Seric. flise fleece. die dye. 27. Slipes sleeps. 157. if of . . . spot if of . . . came “si quid ex appositis luceat, ipsa quidem quae sunt apposita laudantur” (if something should glitter because of its trappings, it is the trappings that are praised). like liking, good pleasure. but . . . spot “illud vero his tectum atque velatum in sua nihilo minus foeditate perdurat” (but what is covered and hidden by them—the trappings—remains nonetheless in its own foulness). bides . . . spot remains in its own blemished state. 158. hath thought . . . jewels “quidquid usquam auri gemmarumque est se solum qui habeat dignissimum putat” (thinks that that he alone is worthiest to have whatever gold and gems exist anywhere). 159. if . . . man if as a wandering, destitute man; “si . . . vacuus viator” (if as an empty-handed traveler). empty destitute. 160. which . . . thee “quam cum adeptus fueris securus esse desistis” (which, when you have gained, you cease to be safe). sure surety, security. Like her contemporaries, Elizabeth sometimes makes an adjective function as a noun.

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there be hid or unknown, bides in his own spot.157 But I deny that is good, that harms the haver. Do I say untruth? ‘No,’ wilt thou say. And riches oft have harmed their owners, when each wicked man (and therefore greedier of others’ goods) hath thought him only worthiest, that hath obtained gold or jewels.158 Thou that the spear and sword carefully hast feared: if wandering, empty man,159 of life the path hadst entered, afore a thief wouldst sing, ‘O beautiful hap of mortal goods,’ which, when thou hast taken, sure hath left thee!’ ”160

Meter 5 Happy too much the former age, With faithful field, content; Not lost by sluggy lust161 That wonts the long fasts To loose by soon-got acorn;162 That knew not Bacchus’ gifts With molten163 honey mixed; Nor Seric, shining fleece, With Tyre’s venom dye.164 Sound sleeps gave the grass; Their drink the running stream; Shades gave the highest pine. The depth of sea they fathomed not,165

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161. lost . . . lust lost ruined; “perdita.” by . . . lust by sluggish pleasure; “inerti . . . luxu” (in slothful excess). 162. wonts . . . acorn wonts wonted, used to (historical present); “solebat.” acorn A food traditionally associated with preagricultural times, conceived here as the Golden Age; see book 1, meter 6, line 6. 163. molten dissolved in liquid; “liquido.” Honeyed wine was a Roman luxury. 164. Nor . . . dye “Nec lucida vellera Serum / Tyrio miscere veneno” (Nor shining fleeces of silk / To dye with Tyrian dye). Seric Chinese, silken. The OED gives no pre-nineteenthcentury instances, and Elizabeth may have coined the adjective from the Latin counterpart, “Sericus.” Boethius’s noun cognate is “Serum.” venom dye, cognate with “veneno.” Both the English and Latin may suggest another meaning, ‘poison,’ since Tyrian dye, from the Phoenician city of Tyre (in modern Lebanon), figured for the Romans a catastrophic fall into luxury. 165. The . . . not “Nondum maris alta secabat” (Not yet did he [man in the Golden Age] cleave the sea’s deep).

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Nor Wares Chosen from fur Made Stranger find new Shores, Than Wer Nauies StiL Nor bloudshed by CrueL hatez had fearful Weapons staned What first fury to foes shuld any armes Rayse Whan CrueL Woundz he Saw and no ReWard for bloude, Wold God agane Our formar time to Wonted maners feL but Gridy getting Loue burnes Sorar than Etena with her flames O Who the first man Was of hiden Gold. the Waight Or Gemmes that Willing Lurkt The deare danger digdt28

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6. Pr[ose] What shal I dispute of Dignities and rule Wiche you ignorant of true dignitie worth and poWer Withe t the skies do mache, wiche happening to any Wicked man What Etnas fire with brusting fLames or What deluge Suche ruine makes, Surely as I thinke you remember how Consulz rule beginar of liberty for ther pride our fathers soght to put

28. O . . . digdt Elizabeth wrote lines 27–30 vertically in the left margin of fol. 31v after running out of horizontal space on this page for the poem’s full text. 166. Nor . . . shores “Nec mercibus undique lectis / Nova litora viderat hospes” (Nor with merchandise gathered from everywhere / Did he as a stranger see unknown shores). Elizabeth spells out the causal connection between foreign merchandise and foreign travel. 167. navies still navies “classica” (trumpet signals to begin battle), which Elizabeth confuses with “classes” (navies). still silent; “tacebant.” 168. fearful weapons Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “horrida . . . arma” (frightful arms). Modern editions read “horrida . . . arva” (scrubby fields). 169. Would . . . fell “Utinam modo nostra redirent / In mores tempora priscos” (If only our times might return / To the ancient ways). Elizabeth’s obscure formulation seems to express Boethius’s wish in an opposite fashion: rather than wishing that present times might return to past ways, she wishes that the past (“our former time”) would come again and

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Nor wares chosen from far, Made stranger find new shores.166 Then were navies still;167 Nor blood shed by cruel hate Had fearful weapons168 stained. What first fury to foes should Any arms raise, When cruel wounds he saw, And no reward for blood? Would God, again our former time To wonted manners fell!169 But greedy-getting love burns Sorer than Aetna with her flames. O who the first man was Of hidden gold, the weight, Or gems that willing lurked, The dear danger digged?170

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Prose 6 “What shall I dispute of dignities and rule, which you, ignorant of true worth and power, with the skies do match?171 Which, happening to any wicked man,172 what Aetna’s fire with bursting flames or what deluge such ruin makes? Surely, as I think you remember, how consuls’ rule, beginner of liberty, for their pride our fathers sought to

bring its “wonted manners” into the present. Would God A Christian equivalent of “utinam modo” (would that only). wonted accustomed, perhaps with implication of once accustomed; “priscos” (ancient). fell would (be)fall. 170. that . . . digged? that . . . lurked “latere volentes” (wishing to lie in hiding). dear . . . digged? The alliteration parallels “Pretiosa pericula fodit?” ([Who] dug the perilous precious things?). 171. which . . . match which you An exact rendering of Pulmann’s reading, “quas you” (which you). The reference is to the two preceding qualities, “dignities” and “rule.” Modern editions read variously “quas,” “qua,” “quae,” with correspondingly different senses. with . . . match “caelo exaequatis” (you place on a level with heaven). match treat as equal with. 172. Which . . . man Which i.e., dignities and rule. Continuative relative pronouns, e.g., “which” and “the which,” placed at the beginning of sentences, are a frequent linking device in sixteenth-century English prose. wicked man “improbissimum” (worst man).

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doWne, Who for Like faulte out of the Citie the name of kings Abolisshed, but if sometime as Seldom haps, honors On Good men be bestoWed, What aught elz in them doth please than Vsars goodnis, So haps29 that honour is not giuen to Vertue for her worth, but Vertue esteemd for by dignitie. but What is this, your craved and beautifull force? Do you vp Not see hoW earthly be the bestes that you Rule, for euin Among the myse yf ye see Any one chalinging rule or gouuernment aboue the rest, what a Laughter doo ye mooue? but What if ye haue respect to the body? What can be Weaker than man, Whom somtyme the byt of a flye and somtyme the passage an hidden path into Any secret parte May destroye What Rule hath How farre oght stretch that ought any man stretch the Rule of aught ouer on the body alone alone can and his circumstances, fortune I meane can satisfie? fortune her self? Will you euer guide ought with free mynde, and Will ye remooue the same sticking to her self by good reason, fro the state of from the state of fro fro her oWn quiet? When a tyrant thought to afflicte A poore Man With his tormentes to confesse the Knowers of a conspiracy against him, his tongue he byt and threw it away, throWing it to the face of the Wicked tyrant, So the torture that he supposde to Make stuff for his cruelty, a Wise man Made for his Vertue. for What is it that Any Man can doo to Any other, that to be don to himself can he beare?

29. What shal I . . . So haps The opening lines of prose 6 are in Elizabeth’s hand. 173. consuls’ . . . abolished The expulsion of the Roman kings was traditionally dated to the inception of the dual consulships about 509 B.C.E. The power of the aristocratic consuls was subsequently challenged by the growing power of the tribunes of the people, an office instituted in 495 B.C.E. 174. honor . . . dignity “non virtutibus ex dignitate sed ex virtute dignitatibus honor accedat” (honor comes not to the virtues because of the office, but to the office because of the virtue [of its holder]). Elizabeth says almost the opposite of Boethius, perhaps because she construes “dignitas” / “dignity” more positively than he does. 175. craved . . . force “vestra expetibilis ac praeclara potentia” (your so desired and splendid power). 176. Do . . . rule? “Nonne, o terrena animalia, consideratis quibus qui praesidere videamini?” (Do you not consider, O earthly beings, over whom you seem to rule?). 177. challenging . . . move challenging . . . government “ius sibi ac potestatem . . . vindicantem” (claiming for himself legal authority and power). challenging laying claim to, demanding as a right. what . . . move “quanto movereris cachinno” (how much you would be moved by laughter). 178. ye . . . to you give heed to by looking at; “spectes” (you should consider).

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put down, who for like fault out of the city the name of kings abolished.173 But if sometime, as seldom haps, honors on good men be bestowed, what else in them doth please than users’ goodness? So haps that honor is not given to virtue for her worth, but virtue esteemed by dignity.174 “But what is this your craved and beautiful force?175 Do you not see how earthly be the beasts that you rule?176 For, even among the mice, if ye see any one challenging rule or government above the rest, what a laughter do ye move!177 But what if ye have respect to178 the body? What can be weaker than man, whom sometime the bite of a fly, and sometime the hidden path into any secret part, may destroy?179 How far ought any man stretch the rule on the body alone, and his circumstances—I mean, Fortune herself?180 Will you ever guide aught with free mind?181 And will ye remove the same, sticking to herself by good reason, from the state of her own quiet? When a tyrant thought to afflict a poor man with his torments to confess the knowers of a conspiracy against him, his tongue he bit and threw away,182 throwing it to the face of the wicked tyrant: so the torture that he supposed to make stuff for his cruelty, a wise man made for his virtue. For what is it that any man can do to any other, that to be done to himself can he bear?183 Busidides, we hear, was wont his guests to kill, slain himself

179. whom . . . destroy “saepe muscularum quoque vel morsus vel in secreta quaeque reptantium necat introitus” (whom often even either the bite of little flies or the entrance of a creeping thing into any recess kills). 180. How . . . herself? This sentence has been heavily revised in the manuscript; see our original-spelling version. Pulmann’s edition reads “Quo vero quisquam ius aliquod in quempiam nisi in solum corpus et quod infra corpus est, fortunam loquor, possit exercere? (How could anyone exercise any authority over anyone else, except over his body or what is inferior to his body—I mean, his fortune?). Elizabeth’s translation is puzzling; probably she read “exercere” (exercise, exert) as “exerere” construed as ‘stretch.’ She then sought to fit the rest of the passage to that sense. 181. Will . . . mind Pulmann’s edition reads “Num quidquam umquam libero imperabis animo?” (Will you ever command anything to a free mind?). guide Probably in the early modern sense of ‘lead’ or ‘command,’ equivalent to “imperabis.” 182. poor . . . away poor man “liberum quendam virum” (a certain free man). This self-mutilator, as Renaissance commentators noted, could be either Zeno of Elea (Plutarch Moralia 505D; Diogenes Laertius Lives of the Philosophers 9.27) or Anaxarchus (Valerius Maximus Factorum et dictorum memorabilium libri 3.3.4; Diogenes Laertius Lives of the Philosophers 9.59). threw away “abscidit” (cut off ). 183. For . . . bear? “Quid autem est quod in alium facere quisque possit, quod sustinere ab alio ipse non possit?” (What is there that anyone is able to do to any man, which

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Bucidides We heare, was Wont his guestes to Kyll, sLayne himself by hercules his host. Regulus cast many prisoners into yrons in the punik Warr, but straight himself sett handes on Victorerers chaynes. dost thou think his poWre ought, Whyl as What himself May, in any other can not lett that An other should doo him? Besides if euin in Souueraynties and poWres, ther should be Any 1 naturall and proper good, neuer be should they hap to Wicked. for contrarieties seld consorte. Nature denyes that contrarieties disagreings30 be Joyned. Wherfore When playn it is that Many men beare greate office, this is sure that of their natures, good they be not, that will good, wiche31 stick to Wickedst folke. The greatest Worth that fortunes guiftes Woorthyest can giue, be such As in Abondant sort to Wicked folkes do hap , Who so few fruct quiknes quicknes hath, it Maketh a Man, hit swift a man doth make32 So Musick the Musicall, phisick the Phisician, Retorik Rhetoricians Makith. for the nature of ech Man thing doth his propertie, nor is Myxt With effect of contrarietie. And freely dryves expells that is against it: Nether can riches Vnsaciable auarice refrayne, nor makes Not fere free his own whom Vitious Lust lust with Vnbroken chaynes, holdes bound, And dignitie on Wicked bestoWde, not only makes them Not worthy, but betrayes and discouers their indignitie. Why doth it hap so? You Joye somtyme to falsifie with other Name, Whose effect shames themselves. Wherfore neither those riches, nor same

he is not able himself to bear being done to him by another man?). Elizabeth would have translated accurately with ‘can he not bear?’ Either she or Windebank inadvertently omitted a “not.” 30. disagreings Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 31. good, wiche Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 32. a . . . make These four words are in Elizabeth’s hand. 184. Busidides . . . host Busidides The dealings of Busiris, king of Egypt, and Hercules are narrated in Hyginus Fabulae 31.2. host “hospes” can mean guest or host; Hercules was in fact the guest. 185. Regulus . . . chains Regulus, hero of the first Punic war (264–41 B.C.E.), was captured by the Carthaginians, who sent him to Rome to argue for a peace treaty. Returning to Carthage as he had sworn to do, he argued against the treaty and was grimly executed; see Cicero De officiis 3.99 and Aulus Gellius Noctae Atticae 6.4. set . . . chains “victorum catenis manus praebuit” (submitted his hands to his captors’ chains). 186. what . . . let what . . . may who what he himself may do. let prevent. 187. when . . . to when since. men Elizabeth omits the adjective “pessimos” (the most wicked men). stick to “se . . . haerere patiantur” (allow themselves to stick).

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by Hercules, his host.184 Regulus cast many prisoners into irons in the Punic war, but straight himself set hands on victorers’ chains.185 Dost thou think his power aught, what himself may, cannot let186 that another should do him? “Besides, if even in sovereignties and powers there should be any one natural and proper good, never should they hap to wicked, for contrarieties seld consort. Nature denies that disagreeings be joined. Wherefore when plain it is that many men bear great office, this is sure, that of their nature they be not good, which stick to187 wickedest folk. The greatest worth that Fortune’s gifts worthiest can give, be such as in abundant sort to wicked folks do hap.188 Whoso quickness hath, it swift a man doth make;189 so music the musical, physic the physician, rhetoric rhetoricians maketh. For the nature of each thing doth his property,190 nor is mixed with effect of contrariety, and freely expels that is against it. Neither can riches unsatiable avarice refrain; nor makes not free, his own, whom vicious lust with unbroken191 chains holds bound. And dignity on wicked bestowed not only makes them not worthy, but betrays and discovers their indignity.192 “Why doth it hap so? You joy sometime to falsify with other name, whose effect shames themselves.193 Wherefore neither those ‘riches,’ nor same ‘power,’ nor like ‘dignity’ can by right be called.

188. The . . . hap The . . . give “Quod quidem de cunctis fortunae muneribus dignius existimari potest” (The same can be very worthily judged true of all the gifts of Fortune). hap Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following sentence: “De quibus illud etiam considerandum puto, quod nemo dubitat esse fortem, cui fortitudinem inesse conspexerit” (About which I think this too is to be considered, that no one doubts him to be brave, in whom he sees bravery to be present). 189. it . . . make “manifestum est esse velocem” (it is clear that he is swift). 190. doth . . . property does what is proper to it; “agit . . . quod proprium est.” property peculiar or exclusive attribute. 191. nor . . . unbroken nor . . . own i.e., nor does it make free [and] his own [man]. Elizabeth omits the subject of Boethius’s claim, “potestas” (power). nor . . . not emphatic double negative. free, his own Two renderings of “sui compotem” (in command of himself). unbroken “insolubilibus” (unbreakable), a postclassical usage. 192. indignity unworthiness; “indignos.” 193. sometime . . . themselves sometime Elizabeth’s addition. other name Elizabeth omits Boethius’s phrase concerning the object of falsification, “res sese aliter habentes” (things that are otherwise). whose . . . themselves “quae facile ipsarum rerum redarguuntur effectu” (which [false names] easily are contradicted by the effect of the things themselves).

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poWre, nor lyke dignitie, can by right be be called. Lastly, the same We may conclude of all fortune, that hath nothing in her nor it is playne to be desyrde, not of naturall goodnes, Who eyther Neuer accompanyes the good, Nor makes them good Whom she is neerest 6. M[yter] We knowe hoW many ruines made Whan flamed Citie and fathers sLain That tirant Who ons brother kild Imbrued with mothers bloude With Looke oVerVewed ther body Cold No teares bedewes his face, but was A domar was of dedded beautye the self same yet With Sceptar peple Ruled, Euin suche As Son espies going doWne at furdest West from the Orison Come Whom frosty Seuen stars OuerLookes Whom WrothfuL North with drie heat Affraies in Sithing of the burning Sandz Could aL his Lofty power at Lenghe Turne the rage of frantique Nero? O griVous hap Whan Wicked Sword To Cruel Venom Joingnes

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194. nothing . . . good nothing . . . goodness Elizabeth makes two items of “nihil nativae bonitatis” (nothing of native goodness). either never “nec . . . semper” (neither . . . always). the good “bonis”—in context, “good men.” 195. made . . . fathers made were made. fathers senators. 196. That tyrant Elizabeth’s term, rendering “qui . . . ferus” (he who was savage). Belatedly identified by name (line 15) for dramatic effect, the tyrant is Nero, Roman emperor from 54 to 68, who poisoned his stepbrother Britannicus in fear that he would become emperor, and murdered his mother Agrippina in 59. Tacitus (Annales 14.9) says that some reported that Nero, looking upon his dead mother, praised her beauty. 197. was . . . beauty was “esse . . . potuit” (was able to be); Boethius’s formulation emphasizes Nero’s abnormality. doomer a judge, derived from “to doom,” which could mean both ‘to judge’ in a neutral sense and ‘to consign to some adverse fate.’ Boethius reads “Censor” (judge, critic). deaded killed.

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Lastly, the same we may conclude of all Fortune, that hath nothing in her nor, it is plain, to be desired—not of natural goodness—who either never accompanies the good,194 nor makes them good whom she is nearest.”

Meter 6 We know how many ruins made, When flamèd city, and fathers195 slain; That tyrant196 who, once, brother killed; Imbrued with mother’s blood, With look o’erviewed her body cold: No tears bedews his face, but was A doomer of deaded beauty.197 The same yet with scepter people ruled: Ev’n such as Sun espies at furthest West From the horizon198 come; Whom frosty Seven Stars o’erlooks;199 Whom wrathful North with dry heat Affrays, in seething200 of the burning sands. Could all his lofty power, at length, Turn the rage of frantic201 Nero? O, grievous hap, when wicked sword To cruel venom joins.202

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198. at . . . horizon at . . . West “condens radios sub undas” (when sinking his rays under the waves). From . . . horizon “extremo . . . ab ortu” (from the farthest East). 199. Seven Stars “septem . . . triones” (seven plow-oxen), the seven stars that make up what is now known as the Big Dipper, in the constellation Ursa Major (the Great Bear). o’erlooks looks down upon from above, perhaps also with the sense of ‘despises’; “premunt” (they press down upon, afflict). 200. North . . . seething North the North wind, misrendering “Notus” (the South wind). Affrays “Torret” (burns), which Elizabeth confuses with “terret” (terrifies). seething boiling. 201. of frantic of insane. Pulmann’s edition reads “insani” (of insane). Modern editions and all other sixteenth-century editions consulted read “pravi” (of debased). 202. O . . . joins “quotiens iniquus / Additur saevo gladius veneno!” (How many times is the wicked sword added to cruel poison!).

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7. Pro[se] Then I Thou thy self knowest that No ambition of mortall thinges did Rule Vs We were Not guided by the Ambition pride33 of Any Mortall glory, but Wish a ground in our affayres, by Which silent Vertue should Not growe olde. Then she. This is that that Noble Myndes by nature but not yet brought by perfection to the Vttmost top of Vertue, might intice, I Meane Gloryes desyre and fame of best actes for common Welth: Which hoW small it is and empty of all Waight, consider this, As Astrologers demonstrations haue told you of, al the Earthes circle, it is playne, gess gettes som Meane to knoW these partes of the heauens face, that if it be matched with the greatnes of the celestiall globe, It is supposde to haue no space, And its is of this little region of the wor World, almost but the fourth portion, As thou hast he Lernede learnd by ptolomés graunte, which is inhabited by vs that knoWes much its inhabitans, by Creatures knoWen34 From this fourth if in thy mynde thou draw away, as much as Sea and Marish couers, and As so35 much As Wasted ground by dryeng drynes his hath dispended, distended36 the straytest roome is left for mans habitation. If in this so small a typple of title, the smallest a point of title,37 We be hedged in and inclosed, What think We so much of enlarging fame and name promoting? for What large

33. pride Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 34. by . . . knoWen Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 35. so Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 36. distended Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 37. title tittle. 203. no ambition “minimum . . . ambitionem” (the least ambition). 204. We . . . old We . . . glory Elizabeth’s addition. wish . . . old “materiam gerendis optavimus quo ne virtus tacita consenesceret” (we wished for matter of action, so that virtue [being] silent might not wither with age). wish Either Elizabeth or Windebank failed to render the past tense “optavimus” (we wished). a . . . affairs a basis for our conduct; “materiam gerendis.” 205. This . . . virtue This . . . that “Atqui hoc unum est” (Yet that is the only thing). to . . . virtue “ad extremam manum virtutum” (to the finishing touches of their virtues). 206. astrologers’ demonstrations astronomical proofs, rendering the cognate phrase “astrologicis demonstrationibus.” For both Boethius and Elizabeth, astrology—literally, the science of the stars—was not distinct from astronomy; in early modern England, astrology was generally conceived as the applied branch of astronomy. 207. all . . . with all . . . face “Omnem terrae ambitum. . . . ad caeli spatium puncti constat obtinere rationem” (it is certain that the entire circumference of our earth, [compared] to the extent of the heavens, occupies the ratio of a point). Boethius’s technical for-

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Prose 7 Then I: “Thou thyself knowest that no ambition203 of mortal things did rule us. We were not guided by the pride of any mortal glory; but wish a ground in our affairs, by which silent virtue should not grow old.”204 Then she: “This is that, that noble minds by nature, but not yet brought by perfection to the utmost top of virtue,205 might entice. I mean glory’s desire and fame of best acts for commonwealth— which, how small it is and empty of all weight, consider this. As astrologers’ demonstrations206 have told you: all the earth’s circle ([it] is plain) gets some mean to know these parts of the heavens’ face, that if it be matched with207 the greatness of the celestial globe, it is supposed to have no space. And it is of this little region of the world almost but the fourth portion, as thou hast learned by Ptolemy’s grant, which is inhabited: by us, creatures known.208 From this fourth, if in thy mind thou draw away as much as sea and marsh covers, and so much as wasted ground by dryness hath distended, the straitest room is left for man’s habitation. If, in this so small a point of tittle, we be hedged in and enclosed, what think we209 so much of enlarging fame, and name-promoting? For what large and magnific

mulation poses various difficulties. Elizabeth evidently construed “obtinere rationem” as ‘to attain a rational account’—hence her “gets some mean to know”—rather than in its geometrical sense of ‘occupies the ratio.’ She also construed “caeli spatium puncti” loosely to mean “parts of the heavens’ face.” [it] Either Elizabeth or Windebank mistakenly deleted the pronoun, which is needed as the subject of the parenthetical comment “constat” (it is plain). that if “id est, ut” (that is, if). matched with compared with, in respect of superiority. 208. by Ptolemy’s . . . known by . . . grant by Ptolemy’s acknowledgment. Elizabeth evidently construes “probante” in the ablative absolute, “Ptolomaeo probante” (by Ptolemy’s proof) in its sense of ‘assenting to’ rather than in its contextually more relevant sense of ‘proving.’ Ptolemy Claudius Ptolemaeus, Alexandrian astronomer and geographer (second century C.E.). by us . . . known “nobis cognitis animantibus” (by creatures known to us). Elizabeth’s Latinate word order leaves unclear whether she is reproducing Boethius’s meaning or whether she misconstrues him as meaning “by us, (who are) the only known creatures.” The revisions in our original-spelling text reveal Elizabeth’s uncertainty regarding this passage. 209. so . . . we so . . . tittle “hoc . . . minimo puncti quodam puncto” (this as it were smallest point of a point). tittle dot, minuscule point. we . . . we Boethius has second-person plural constructions. what why.

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and magnifick thing hath gLory sl bounde in so straight and small lymites? Ad to this that though but small, it self is enuirond is with habitation of many Nations, tongues and conditions that in all trade of lyfe differs. To which not only no report of ech man, but ni Not of Cities, can com through hardnes of Way and difference of speeche, and diuers traffik. In Marcus Tullius tyme as he himself in place hath sayde, the fame of Romayn Empire Neuer past Caucasus Mounte, and yet it was florishing and fearfull to the parthians and to all peeple inhabiting such places. dost thou not see then, how Narrow and neere prest gLory is, which to stretch out spred thou Labourst? shall the gLory of a Romayn go so furr, as Where neuer Romayn name hath past? What, for that the diuers natures of peeple and their orders disagree? so that, What among som is prayse, Among the rest sett for a cryme. So haps that if Any mans fame prayse delyte, to him the same is said his name doth neuer proffit Exept to haue it spred to many Nations peeple sent. Is Any man content that Among his oWn, his glory byde, and Immortalities of fame be tyed in boundes of his oWn soyle? but how many noble men in their tymes haue fayling obliuion of writers hath haVe38 dasht? but What proffites Writinges? Which with the office, a Long and dark age suppressith. but doo you thinke to get immortality With thought of comming tyme? yf thou Joyne it with the infinit spaciousnes of eternitie, What hast thou to Joye of thy Lasting Name? for if the abode of one Moment is with ten thousand yeeres be compared, for that both space is ending, It shall haVe, tho a little, som portion. but this Nomber of yeeres, hoW oft so euer Multiplyed, may

38. haVe Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 210. though . . . traffic though . . . habitation “hoc ipsum brevis habitaculi saeptum” (this very enclosed space of a small dwelling-place). not only . . . cities “non modo fama hominum singulorum sed ne urbium quidem” (not the fame of individual men only but even indeed of cities). through . . . divers traffic from . . . various commerce; “commercii insolentia” (from infrequency of trade). Elizabeth seems to have inadvertently retranslated “diversitate” from the preceding phrase, instead of translating “insolentia.” 211. Marcus . . . people Marcus . . . said Cicero De re publica 6.22, preserved in Macrobius Commentarium in somnium Scipionis 2.10. to . . . people “ceterisque . . . gentibus” (to other peoples). 212. to . . . outspread Renders the pleonastic doublet “dilatare ac propagare” (to expand and enlarge). 213. never . . . passed “transire . . . nequit” (cannot pass beyond). 214. What . . . orders What . . . that “Quid quod” (What of the fact that?). orders customary practices; “instituta” (customs, practices).

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thing hath glory bound in so strait and small limits? Add to this that, though but small itself, environed is with habitation of many nations, tongues, and conditions, that in all trade of life differs: to which, not only no report of each man, but not of cities, can come through hardness of way, and difference of speech, and divers traffic.210 In Marcus Tully’s time, as he himself in place hath said, the fame of Roman Empire never passed Caucasus’ mount, and yet it was flourishing and fearful to the Parthians and to all people211 inhabiting such places. Dost thou not see, then, how narrow and near-pressed glory is, which to stretch outspread212 thou laborest? Shall the glory of a Roman go so far, as where never Roman name hath passed?213 What for that the divers natures of people and their orders214 disagree, so that, what among some is praise, among the rest, a crime. So haps that, if any man’s praise delight, to him the same doth never profit, to many people sent.215 Is any man content that, among his own, his glory bide, and immortality’s fame be tied in bounds of his own soil?216 “But how many noble men in their times, failing oblivion of writers217 have dashed? But what profits writings—which, with the office, a long218 and dark age suppresseth? But do you think to get immortality, with thought of coming time?219 If thou join it with the infinite spaciousness of eternity, what hast thou to joy of thy lasting name? For if the abode of one moment, with ten thousand years be compared—for that both, space is ending—it shall have, though a little, some portion.220 But this number of years, how oft soever 215. many . . . sent many people “plurimos populos” has the sense of ‘many peoples’ of the world. Elizabeth may intend a similar sense, since “people” in the singular was a common early modern term for ‘nations.’ sent to be sent. 216. Is . . . soil? Elizabeth recasts an assertion as a question. immortality’s fame “praeclara illa famae immortalitas” (that glorious immortality of fame). Elizabeth dampens the ironic hyperbole. of . . . soil “unius gentis” (of one nation). 217. noble . . . writers noble “clarissimos” (most famous). failing . . . writers oblivion being deficient in writers; “scriptorum inops . . . oblivio” (oblivion devoid of writers). Elizabeth’s construction with “of ” follows Boethius, not English usage. 218. with . . . long with . . . office with the one who performs the function—here, a writer; “auctoribus” (with their authors). long “longior.” 219. But . . . time “Vos vero inmortalitatem vobis propagare videmini, cum futuri famam temporis cogitatis” (But you seem to yourselves to extend your immortality when you think upon your fame of future time). Elizabeth renders an assertion as a question. 220. for that . . . portion “quoniam utrumque spatium definitum est, minimam, licet, habet tamen aliquam portionem” (since each is a determinate length of time—each

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Not compare with the Vnending Lasting. Somtyme som ending outWard39 thinges ther be, compard Among themselves, haue ende, but that Wontes that neuer hath, twixt infinite and ending40 neuer earst no comparison may beare. So is it that the Lasting of Any longest tyme tyme, if it be matcht With contynuall Vnbounde eternitie, not small but None shall seeme, for Without you be ignorant hoW rightly to please popular eares and Vayne rumors, and leaving care of conscience and Vertue, ask aw rewarde of other Mens frute, see hoW in the Myldnes of such an Arrogancy, hoW pleasantly a man May be begylde. for When one once had sKornde A man that clothed him not with Philosophy for true Vertues Vse, but for proude gloryes sake, and saide he Wold try him whither he Were a Philosopher that easely could beare in patience iniuryes, he tooke Vpon him to be suffring, and taking the sKorne as A raging man, dost thou, at length, Vnderstand me a Philosopher? Then nippingly he said, I should haue Vnderstode it, if thou hadst bene siLent. What n Meanes it?, that cheefest Men (for of them I speake) that seeke thoroWgh Vertue glory, What hath death to doo with them, after the body is dissolued, At their end? for be it that our Reason it self denyes Vs to beleeue that has a certain proportion to the other, even if a very small one). for . . . ending since both spaces (of time) have an ending. portion A misleading translation of cognate “portionem” (proportion). 39. outward Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 40. twixt . . . ending Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 221. unending lasting infinite eternity; “interminabilem diuturnitatem.” 222. Sometime . . . [but] Sometime . . . end Elizabeth’s sense is obscure; evidently she was puzzled by the technical phraseology: “Etenim finitis ad se invicem fuerit quaedam” (For there could be some [comparison] to each other with respect to finite things). outward The adjective has no counterpart in Boethius. It may mean ‘worldly, secular,’ as contrasted with the eternal. [but] “vero” (yet, on the other hand). Elizabeth mistakenly deleted this conjunction while revising the wording that follows it. 223. lasting . . . time “quamlibet prolixi temporis fama” (fame of however lasting a time). 224. For . . . fruit Elizabeth’s sense is obscure in this sentence fragment. without . . . rumors “nisi ad populares auras inanesque rumores recte facere nescitis” (you do not know how to act rightly except when favored by popular winds and empty rumors). without unless. leaving . . . virtue Boethius’s ablative absolute reads “relicta conscientae virtutisque praestantia” (the excellence of your conscience and virtue abandoned). ask reward you ask reward. of . . . fruit “de alienis . . . sermunculis” (of other men’s chatter). Windebank probably misheard or miswrote “fruit” in place of “bruit” used in the sense of ‘rumor.’

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multiplied, may not compare with the unending lasting.221 Sometime some outward things there be, compared among themselves, have end; [but]222 ’twixt infinite and ending, no comparison may bear. So is it that the lasting of any longest time,223 if it be matched with unbound eternity, not small but none shall seem. For, without you be ignorant how rightly to please popular ears and vain rumors, and leaving care of conscience and virtue, ask reward of other men’s fruit.224 See how in the mildness of such an arrogancy, how pleasantly a man may be beguiled.225 For when one once had scorned a man that clothed him not with philosophy for226 true virtue’s use, but for proud glory’s sake, and said he would try him whether he were a philosopher that easily could bear in patience injuries; he took upon him to be suffering and, taking the scorn as a raging man:227 ‘Dost thou at length understand me a philosopher?’ Then nippingly he228 said: ‘I should have understood it, if thou hadst been silent.’ What means it, that chiefest men (for of them I speak) that seek, through virtue, glory, what hath death229 to do with them after the body is dissolved, at their end? For be it (that our reason itself denies us to believe), that all men die, then there is no glory, when he is not, of whom she speaks.230 But if the

225. in . . . beguiled how a man cursed with such mild arrogancy may be humorously tricked. mildness . . . arrogancy Elizabeth renders a typographical error in Pulmann’s 1562 edition: “huiusmodi arrogantiae lenitate” (the mildness of this kind of arrogance), corrected in 1580 to the standard reading of “levitate” (vanity, triviality). pleasantly humorously, facetiously; “festive.” 226. not . . . for with philosophy not for. 227. he . . . man “ille patientiam paulisper adsumpsit acceptaque contumelia velut insultans” (he [the pseudo-philosopher] for a little while assumed patience and as if mocking the insults he received). suffering long-suffering, patient. raging While this adjective sounds incongruous here, Boethius’s corresponding “insultans” suggests that “raging” has the now obsolete sense of ‘behaving wantonly, playing.’ 228. nippingly he nippingly sharply, sarcastically. he the scorner of the pretended philosopher. 229. What means . . . death Elizabeth’s rendering, which loosely imitates the redundant phraseology in Boethius, may be paraphrased, “What does death offer the best sort of men (for of these I speak), men who seek glory through virtue?” death A mistake for “fame” (fama). 230. all . . . speaks all . . . die Elizabeth misconstrues “toti moriuntur homines” (men wholly perish), i.e., men have no afterlife, as equivalent to “omnes moriuntur homines” (all men die). of . . . speaks i.e., of whom fame speaks; “cuius ea esse dicitur” (to whom she—fame—is said to belong).

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all Men dye, then ther is no gLory, When he is not, of whom she speakes. but if thise mynde it self with conscience good dissolued from earthly geayle giaL41 are all freed seekes heauen. WoLd she not all earthly thinges despise, who heauen enioyeng, Joyes earthly thinges to Want. 7. Myter Who so with hedLong mynd alone glory Glory aLone beliues as Greatist thing And quarters of the Largist heuens behold With straightid seat of erthe WyL blusche that hit not filz The Short Compas of Gridy desire; Why proude men do you Curake,42 Your necks from mortal yoke retire? Thogh Fame by people strange flying spred the tonges Open And noble house by Great titelz shine dethe hates the hiest glory Intangels LoW and hauty hed And equaLs Lest to most Wher noW lies faithful fabritius bones? Wher brutus or Currish Cato SmaL Lasting fame Signes A vaine name with feWest Lettars

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41. giaL gaol / jail. Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 42. Curake crook. 231. to want to lack; “exemptam” ([to be] freed from). 232. glory . . . thing “petit / Summumque credit gloriam” (seeks glory and believes it to be the highest good). 233. quarters . . . seat quarters regions; “plagas.” behold should behold (?). Boethius has a hortatory subjunctive: “cernat” (let him perceive). With compared with. straited seat constricted site; “artum . . . situm.” 234. Will . . . desire “Brevem replere non valentis ambitum / Pudebit aucti nominis” (Will blush that his widespread name is not strong enough to fill [even] his brief ambition). Elizabeth does not translate “aucti nominis,” but her “it” presumably refers to “glory,” as Boethius does. 235. crook . . . retire? “colla mortali iugo / Frustra levare gestiunt?” (Why do they— i.e., proud men—seek to lift their necks, in vain, from the mortal yoke?). retire to retire, i.e., to withdraw.

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mind itself, with conscience good, dissolved from earthly jail, all freed seeks heaven, would she not all earthly things despise, who, heaven enjoying, joys earthly things to want?”231

Meter 7 Whoso, with headlong mind, glory Alone believes as greatest thing,232 And quarters of largest heav’ns behold With straited seat233 of earth, Will blush that it not fills The short compass of greedy desire.234 Why, proud men, do you crook Your necks, from mortal yoke retire?235 Though Fame, by people strange Flying, spread, the tongues open,236 And noble house by great titles shine: Death hates237 the highest glory, Entangles low and haughty head, And equals least to most. Where now lies faithful Fabricius’ bones? Where Brutus, or currish Cato?238 Small-lasting Fame signs A vain name with fewest letters.239

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236. Fame . . . open “Licet remotos fama per populos means / Diffusa linguas explicet” (Although Fame, passing among remote nations, / Spread abroad, may loosen tongues). 237. hates “spernit” (disdains). 238. lies . . . Cato Elizabeth follows the reading in Pulmann’s edition, “iacent” (lie). He provides as a marginal variant the reading in modern editions and all other sixteenthcentury editions consulted, “manent” (remain, endure). Fabricius . . . Cato Caius Fabricius Luscinus, consul in 282 B.C.E., was known for his incorruptible patriotism. “Brutus” may be Lucius Junius Brutus, the traditional founder of the Roman republic, who expelled the last Tarquin king from Rome, or Marcus Junius Brutus, the assassin of Julius Caesar; and “Cato” could be Marcus Porcius Cato “the Censor,” the consul in 195 B.C.E. known for his strict morality, or his great-grandson Cato the Younger, the Stoic defender of the Roman republic. currish snappish, snarling; “rigidus” (stern). 239. Small . . . letters “Signat superstes fama tenuis pauculis / Inane nomen litteris” (Scant-surviving Fame marks down an empty name in but a very few pieces of writing).

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But why do we Leue to knoWe noble names Do We not See them to Consumed Ly you shal vnknoWen at alL Nor fame shaL uttar Who If you Suppose that Life be Longar drawen For brethe of mortal fame Than the Second dethe Exspect

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8. Pro[se] but Lest you shuld Suppose against fortune I make an Endles War, Ther is a time Whan she, the begiLing one, SomeWhat WeL of men desarues Euen than Whan discouerd her self she sheWes and maners hers detectz, Perchanche yet thou Wotz not What I say, Wondar hit is, that I mynd teL and mening skars with Wordes may Expres for men I Suppose more Get by aduerse than Lucky fortune, for she euer with sheWe of blis, with Seming as al false deceues and euer true she is43 in change Whan When Vnstable she seemes. The one beguyles, the other instructes. This tyeth in Joyers mynds with sheWe frames falshode Vnder show tyes44 the enioyers myndes with show of lyeng good, the other Loovsith them With KnoWLedge of frayle felicitie. This KnoW therfore for Wyndy, fLeeting, and ignorant of her self, This the other sober, steady and Wise by aduersities exercise, At Last happy he that drawes the strayeng with deceit from greatest good, but Aduersitie of tymes retourning them to surest haps, as by a hoodek doth drawe,

43. but Lest . . . she is The opening lines of prose 8 are in Elizabeth’s hand. 44. tyeth, tyes Windebank presumably forgot to delete the first form of the verb, subsequently emended by Elizabeth to “tyes.” 240. But . . . consumed? Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s edition reads “Sed quid decora novimus vocabula, / Num scire consumptos datur?” (But why do we know distinguished names, / Is it granted to know the dead?). Modern editions read “quod” for “quid,” yielding “Because we know . . . / Is it then granted . . . ?” to consumed to be consumed. 241. be . . . For be . . . drawn may be longer drawn. For Because of, On account of. Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following line, “Cum sera vobis rapiet hoc etiam dies” (When the day will be, that will take even this from you). 242. Then . . . expect “Iam vos secunda mora manet” (Still a second death awaits you). Elizabeth converts the gnomic statement into a sardonic exhortation. expect anticipate, await.

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But why do we know noble names: Do we not see them to consumed?240 Lie you shall, unknown at all, Nor Fame shall utter who. If you suppose that life be longer drawn For241 breath of mortal Fame, Then the second death expect.242

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Prose 8 “But lest you should suppose against Fortune I make an endless war, there is a time when she, the beguiling one, somewhat well of men deserves: even then, when discovered, herself she shows, and manners hers detects.243 Perchance yet thou wotest not what I say. Wonder it is that I mind tell,244 and meaning scarce with words may express. For men, I suppose, more get by adverse than lucky Fortune. For she ever, with show of bliss, with seeming all false,245 deceives. And ever true she is in change, when unstable she seems:246 the one beguiles, the other instructs. This ties the enjoyers’ minds with show of lying good; the other looseth them with knowledge of frail felicity. This, know therefore, for windy, fleeting, and ignorant of herself; the other, sober, steady,247 and wise by adversity’s exercise. At last, happy he, that draws the straying with deceit from greatest good; but adversity of times returning them to surest haps,248 as by a hook doth draw. Thinkest thou this for least good, that this currish and fearful 243. she, the . . . detects she, the . . . deserves Elizabeth closely follows Pulmann’s edition: “de hominibus illa fallax nonnihil bene mereatur” (she, the deceiving one, well deserves of men a certain amount). Modern editions and some Renaissance ones, by contrast, read “de hominibus fallax illa nihil, bene mereatur” (when not deceiving at all, she deserves well of men). discovered uncovered. herself . . . detects “frontem detegit moresque profitetur” (uncovers her face and declares her manners). detects uncovers, exposes, rendering cognate “detegit.” 244. thou . . . tell thou wotest you know; “intellegis.” mind tell intend to tell. 245. seeming . . . false completely false appearance; “cum videtur blanda” (when she seems pleasant). 246. seems “demonstrat” (shows herself). 247. fleeting . . . steady fleeting “fluentem” (flowing). steady “succinctam” (girded for action, well prepared). 248. At . . . haps At last Finally (as my last point); “Postremo.” he A continued reference to deceitful “good” Fortune, which should be “she.” surest haps safest fortunes; “vera bona” (true goods).

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Thinkst thou this for Lest good, that this Currish and fearfull fortune hath discouerd the mynde of thy faythfull frendz? The other hath shewed the sume feLloWes sure looks and45 doubtfull, in departing hath taken hers, and thyne affliction hath left the. With how much Woldest thou in prosperous state haue bought this When thou thoughtest it most? Leave to seke Lost goodes. The preciousest Kynde of ryches, frendes thou hast founde. 8. Myter That World with stable trust the changing Seasons turnes And diuers Sedes Lasting Leage holdz stil holdes League T That Φebus the ruddy daye With Golden Car bringes furthe That the that Mone may rule the night Wiche hesperus broghte The gridy Sea her Streame in Certaine limites kipt That LawfuL be not to Wide World to bancke her spatius boundz Al this hole molde ties in Ruling erthe and Sea Loue Ruling heuens Who if the raines he slake

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45. feLloWes . . . and No revision was made to this underlined passge. 249. The . . . doubtful “haec tibi certos sodalium vultus ambiguosque secrevit” (She has distinguished for you the certain faces from the doubtful among your companions). The other Should be ‘She’ or ‘The same’ (“haec”), i.e., adverse Fortune. fellows’ . . . doubtful companions’ sure looks and doubtful looks. 250. this . . . most this i.e., this knowledge distinguishing true and faithless friends; “hoc.” when . . . most Most easily construed as “when you considered it [this knowledge] most (valuable),” but context and Boethius’s corresponding “ut videbaris tibi fortunatus” (when you were fortunate, as it seemed to you) suggest the alternative sense “when you thought it [your prosperous state] most [prosperous].” Elizabeth’s oblique phrasing leaves the referent—whether knowledge or prosperity—indeterminate. 251. Leave . . . goods Elizabeth closely translates the reading in Pulmann and other sixteenth-century editions: “Desine nunc amissas opes quaerere.” Leave to cease to.

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Fortune hath discovered the mind of thy faithful friends? The other hath showed thee fellows’ sure looks and doubtful:249 in departing hath taken hers, and thine hath left thee. With how much wouldst thou, in prosperous state, have bought this, when thou thoughtest it most?250 Leave to seek lost goods.251 The preciousest kind of riches, friends, thou hast found.”

Meter 8 That world, with stable trust, The changing seasons252 turns, And divers seeds still holds league:253 That Phoebus the ruddy day With golden car brings forth; That Moon254 may rule the night Which Hesperus brought; The255 greedy sea, her stream In certain limits kept That lawful be; not to wide world To bank her spacious bounds:256 All this whole mold257 ties In ruling earth and sea, Love, ruling heav’ns. Who, if the reins he slack,

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Modern editions have a very different reading: “Nunc amissas opes querere,” either “Now you are complaining of lost wealth” or “Now complain of lost wealth” (an ironic imperative). 252. changing seasons “concordes . . . vices” (the harmonious seasons). 253. divers . . . league “Quod pugnantia semina / Foedus perpetuum tenent” (That fighting seeds / Hold a perpetual covenant). league covenant, alliance. 254. Moon “Phoebe.” Elizabeth obscures Boethius’s naming of the divine brother and sister with linked names, Phoebus and Phoebe, which sustains the theme of cosmic balance. 255. The That the; “ut.” 256. not . . . bounds “Ne terris liceat vagis / Latos tendere terminos” (Nor may the shifting lands / Extend their wide limits). not to not permitted to. bank go beyond. 257. All . . . mold all this earth; “hanc rerum seriem” (this [whole] series of things).

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What so noW by Loue is linked Straict maketh War And Seakes to Wracke that Worke Which With Linked faithe With46 that hit quiet motions moued he bound in League holy peace doth hold the b bounded peoples Pact And Linkes Sacred WedLok With Chast Good wyL Who Lawes his oWne to tru Assosiatz gius^to true Associates Giues ^ O happy humain kind If Loue your mindz The same that heuen desires doth rule / Mygh gide / 47

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[Entry in left margin in Windebank’s italic hand] Heere endes the second booke / [Endorsed in Windebank’s italic hand] The second Booke. 46. With Elizabeth mistakenly struck through “With” and eventually wrote the inferior “It.” Boethius’s “Pulchris motibus” (With fair motions) requires “With.” See n259 of our modern-spelling version of book 2. 47. O . . . gide Elizabeth wrote lines 26–30 vertically in the left margin of fol. 34v because she lacked further horizontal space. She keyed the positioning of the lines at poem’s end with heavily retraced carets. Mygh might. 258. maketh, seeks Elizabeth replaces counterfactual subjunctives with indicatives. 259. wrack . . . moved An obscure passage imitating Boethius’s elliptical phrasing. It might be construed as follows: ‘to ruin that work [the cosmic order], which with linked faith it [“Whatso now by love is linked”] [has hitherto] moved [with] quiet motions.’ with . . . faith “socia fide” (with mutual trust). It . . . moved Elizabeth substituted “It” for her original “With” as a reference to “Whatso now by love is linked” (line 16), thus providing a grammatical subject. While sacrificing clarity regarding the subject, her original word-

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Whatso now by Love is linked Straight maketh war, And seeks258 to wrack that work Which with linked faith It, quiet motions, moved.259 He in holy peace doth hold The bounded peoples’ pact,260 And links sacred wedlock With chaste goodwill,261 Who laws, his own, to true associates gives. O happy humankind, If Love your minds— The same, that heav’n doth rule, might guide.262

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Here ends the second book. The second book.

ing “With quiet motions moved” had closely rendered Boethius’s corresponding line 20, “Pulchris motibus incitant” (With beautiful motions they drive [the cosmic order]), whose implied subject is “quidquid nunc amat” (whatever now loves) from line 17. By substituting “It” for “With,” Elizabeth solved one problem but created another: “quiet motions” now sounds like a direct object of “It . . . moved” in competition with the actual direct object “that work / Which” (18–19). To preserve syntactic coherence, “quiet motions” must be construed to mean “with quiet motions,” in an awkward imitation of Boethius’s ablative construction, “pulchris motibus.” 260. bounded . . . pact “populos . . . / Iunctos foedere” (peoples bound by covenant). 261. links . . . goodwill links . . . wedlock The pun is Elizabeth’s. With . . . goodwill “castis . . . amoribus” (with chaste loves); Elizabeth cultivates lexical variety where Boethius emphasizes his central term, “amor.” 262. guide lead or command; “regat” (may rule).

The thirde booke. 1 1. Pro[se] Thus Ended she her song, When greedy me astonied me and astond with lyfted eares, the doulcenes of her Verse, perced. Wherfore a little after, O cheefest comfort, quoth I, of Wearyed myndes, hoW Much hast thou reviued Me, With Waight of sentence, or pleasantnes of song. so as I heerafter I shall think Me not inferior to fortunes strokes: And so the remedyes that a little before thou saidst to sharp, not only doo I not feare, but ernest to heare of I ernestly greedely beseech. Then she, I perceauid, quoth she, When silently our wordes with attentyue eare thou cacht, that this state of thy mynde eyther I Lookt for or that is truer, my self haue made, The rest that doth remayne be such that tasted, smartes, but inwardly received sweetenes sweetens. But for that thou s namest thy self ernest to heare with What desyres shouldst thou be infLamed, yf thou couldst Know whither We meane to bring the. Whither quoth I to true felicitie, Which thy mynde dreames of, Whose eyes being Vsed to pictures, it self can not beholde. Than I,

1. The . . . booke This heading is in Windebank’s secretary hand, which continues with the text of prose 1. 1. greedy . . . dulceness greedy . . . astound “me audiendi avidum stupentemque” (me, eager to hear and struck dumb). greedy eager, with a connotative range like “avidum” (greedy, eager). astound stunned, stupefied; “stupentem.” dulceness sweetness.

The Third Book Prose 1 Thus ended she her song, when greedy me, and astound, with lifted ears, the dulceness1 of her verse pierced. Wherefore, a little after: “O chiefest comfort,” quoth I, “of wearied minds, how much thou hast revived me with weight of sentence2 or pleasantness of song. So as hereafter I shall think me not inferior to Fortune’s strokes, and so the remedies that a little before thou saidst ‘Too sharp,’ not only do I not fear, but earnest to hear of, I greedily3 beseech.” Then she: “I perceived,” quoth she, “when silently our words with attentive ear thou catched, that this state of thy mind either I looked for or (that is truer) myself have made. The rest that doth remain be such that tasted, smarts, but inwardly received, sweetens. But for that thou namest thyself earnest to hear, with what desires shouldst thou be inflamed if thou couldst know whither we mean to bring thee?” “Whither?” quoth I. “To true felicity which thy mind dreams of; whose eyes, being used to pictures, itself cannot behold.”

2. sentence way of thinking; sound judgment; “sententiarum.” 3. inferior . . . greedily inferior to unequal to; “imparem.” a little before In book 2, prose 5 (last sentence). greedily eagerly, rendering “vehementer” (strongly) and marking the recurrence of “audiendi avidu[s].”

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make doo I besech the, and Without delay shew What is the true one. Willingly shall I doo it quoth she for thy sake. but cause that thou doost better Know, the same in Woordes I shall describe and seeke to inform the that she KnoWen, When eyes thou turnst to contrary parte, the show of truest good, thou mayst Knowe.

I. Mytre. Who frutfulst fild WyL sowe first fried of fruit must make his Leas With Sithe must busches Cut and trym must fer fern and f brusshes cut that Ceres sweLLs with sed betimes may sweL with new sede The hony switar is flies Labor sWetar is If strongar tast be first eate As Luciϕar dothe the darkenis chase A fayre day spurs the ruddy hors Thou LooKing So on falsid Good begin thy neck from yoke to pluck Therby thou atainist thy mind may then then true obtaine

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2. Prose Than fixing her Look awhile, and has taken With straight conceit of mynde, thus she begyns: All mortall care which Labour of many

4. cause . . . know “quae tibi causa notior est” (the subject matter that is better known to you). cause the matter under dispute, referring to the false forms of happiness that Boethius already knows. 5. she . . . part she known “ea perspecta” (the matter being grasped). when . . . part “cum in contrariam partem flexeris oculos” (when you will have turned your eyes to the opposite side). Philosophy claims that once Boethius has grasped false happiness, he will better recognize true happiness. Construing a future perfect tense as a future, Elizabeth treats the “opposite side” as an anticipatory reference to the true happiness that Boethius will be shown. 6. fruitfull’st “ingenuum.” The sense of Boethius’s adjective in this context is disputed: some construe it as ‘free’ in the sense of ‘virgin’; others, like Elizabeth, as ‘fruitful.’ For a defense of the latter view with literary parallels, see Gruber, Kommentar zu Boethius, 237. 7. of . . . leas of fruit Elizabeth translates the misprint “fructibus” (of fruits, produce) in Pulmann’s 1562 edition (corrected in 1580). All other Renaissance and modern editions consulted, except the Loeb, read “fruticibus” (of shrubs, bushes).

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Then I: “Do, I beseech thee, and without delay, show what is the true one.” “Willingly shall I do it,” quoth she, “for thy sake. But cause that thou dost better know,4 the same in words I shall describe, and seek to inform thee: that, she known, when eyes thou turnest to contrary part,5 the show of truest good thou mayst know.” Meter 1 Who fruitfull’st6 field will sow, First freed of fruit must make his leas,7 With scythe must fern and brushes cut, That Ceres may swell with new seed.8 The flies’ labor sweeter9 is, If stronger taste be first eat.10 As Lucifer11 doth the darkness chase, A fair day spurs the ruddy horse.12 Thou, looking so, on falsèd good, Begin, thy neck from yoke to pluck. Thereby thy mind may true obtain.13

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Prose 2 Then, fixing her look awhile and, as taken with strait conceit of mind,14 thus begins: “All mortal care, which labor of many studies

8. may . . . seed may swell “eat” (may come). seed “fruge” (here, with crop). 9. flies’ . . . sweeter flies’ “apium” (bees’); in sixteenth-century English, “flies” could mean any winged insects, such as bees, gnats, locusts, moths, etc. sweeter “dulcior . . . mage” (much sweeter). 10. stronger . . . eat stronger “malus” (bad, bitter). eat eaten (variant form). The lines on honey and bitterness introduce a series of contrasts whose effects are to sharpen perception. Elizabeth does not translate the next example, the stars that shine more brightly after the rain has stopped. 11. Lucifer the morning star. 12. ruddy horse horse of the sun-god’s chariot; “roseos . . . equos” (rosy horses). 13. Thereby . . . obtain “Vera dehinc animum subierint” (Thereupon the true [good] will steal into your mind). 14. fixing . . . mind fixing . . . look “defixo . . . visu” (her face cast down). as . . . mind Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “velut in angustam suae mentis sedem recepta” (as if withdrawn into the narrow dwelling of

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studyes Vsith, goeth goes a on in diuers pathes, and yet stryves to com to one end of bLiss: But that is right good Which a Man obtayning, no furder may desyre, Which is of all the greatest good, and in it self contaynes them all, of Which if any Want, it can not be the Mo Moste For outwardly were founde Left somthing to be Wisht. PLayne then it is, that state of all good thinges perfect in his gathering, is onely bLisse. This As We sayde by diuers path all Mortall Men indeuour gett, For Nature hath ingraft in Mens Mynd desyre of truest good, but strayeng errour to falshode doth seduce Vs. Among Whom som Beleeuing hit greatest good Nothing to Want, stryve to be rych. som supposing honour best, When gotten the haue, seeke seeck seek of their Citizens honour. others ther be that settels greatest good in hyest poWre. such Will or raigne themselVes, or stryVe to cleaue to such As doo. but they that suppose honour greatest good, they eyther With Warre or Peaces Worth hast to inl inlarge a glorious man: name but many good men measure the frute of good with joy and Mirth, and they think it happyest to Wallow in delytes. Then be to, that enterchange ech end and care With other, As they that Riches and delyte for poWres sake desyre, the other poWre for monnyes sake or gLory doo desyre. In these and such lyk humayne actes or desyres, intent abydes, As Nobilitie and popular fame they seem to get some Luster shoW. Wyfe and children for plesure sake desyre, but wher partaking of of 2 frendes (that holyest is) not recken by fortune nor force. The rest eyther for poWres sake or delyte be taken. It is playne that the bodyes good to her mind). taken with taken up with, occupied by, rendering “recepta” (withdrawn into, taken into). strait narrow. conceit faculty of conceiving, apprehending, understanding. 2. of of Windebank’s repetition across a line break. 15. studies useth studies occupations, pursuits; “studiorum.” useth pursues. 16. if . . . most if any goods are lacking in it, it cannot be the greatest good. the most the greatest. 17. supposing . . . honor supposing . . . best “bonum quod sit dignissimum veneratione iudicantes” (judging that which is most worthy of veneration to be the good). when . . . honor “adeptis honoribus reverendi civibus suis esse nituntur” (strive with acquired honors to be revered by their fellow citizens). Elizabeth construes an ablative absolute as marking an action prior to seeking honor from the citizens, rather than as a part of it. 18. honor “claritas” (fame). Elizabeth renders “claritas” and the synonym “claritudo” as “honor” three times, but she also translates them with other English terms, including “show,” “laud” (i.e., praise), “prizing,” “estimation” (in the sense of ‘repute’), “glory,” and even, misleadingly, “beauty.” 19. worth “artibus” (with arts—of war or peace).

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useth,15 goes on in divers paths, and yet strives to come to one end of bliss. But that is right good which, a man obtaining, no further may desire: which is of all, the greatest good, and in itself contains them all. Of which, if any want, it cannot be the most,16 for outwardly were left something to be wished. Plain then it is, that state of all good things, perfect in his gathering, is only bliss. This, as we said, by divers path all mortal men endeavor get. For Nature hath engraft in men’s mind desire of truest good, but straying error to falsehood doth seduce us. Among whom some, believing it greatest good nothing to want, strive to be rich; some, supposing honor best when gotten they have, seek of their citizens honor.17 Others there be that settles greatest good in highest power: such will, or reign themselves, or strive to cleave to such as do. But they that suppose honor18 greatest good, they either with war or peace’s worth19 haste to enlarge a glorious name. But many good men20 measure the fruit of good with joy and mirth, and they think it happiest to wallow in delights. Then be, too, that interchange each end and care21 with other, as they that riches and delight for power’s sake desire;22 the other, power for money’s sake or glory do desire. In these and suchlike, human acts’ or desires’ intent abides: as nobility and popular fame, they seem to get some show; wife and children for pleasure’ sake, desire.23 But partaking of friends (that holiest is) not reckon by Fortune nor force;24 the rest either for power’s sake or delight be taken. It is plain that body’s good to higher things be referred, whose strength and 20. many . . . men “plurimi” (very many men). good An inadvertent repetition of a key word—perhaps by Windebank in taking dictation from Elizabeth—since “good” occurs in almost the same position in the preceding line. 21. be . . . care be, too there are also some. end . . . care “fines causasque” (ends and motives). care matter of concern. 22. riches . . . desire Elizabeth alters the relations among Boethius’s three goods: “divitias ob potentiam voluptatesque desiderant” (desire riches for the sake of power and pleasure). 23. some show . . . desire some show “quandam claritudinem” (some sort of renown). desire “petuntur” (are sought). Elizabeth probably dictated “desired” but Windebank failed to hear the “-ed.” 24. partaking . . . force partaking . . . is) “amicorum vero quod sanctissimum quidem genus est” (but the category of friends, which is the most sacred). not reckon “non . . . numeratur” (is not reckoned). Either Elizabeth failed to say, or more likely Windebank failed to write, a second “is” after the immediately preceding “(that holiest is).” In addition, Windebank probably failed to hear Elizabeth’s “-ed” ending. nor force “sed in virtute” (but by virtue).

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hyer thinges be referd, Whose strength and bygnes it is that Makes their Woork Commended. beauty and agilitie their fame helth hath their delyte, to Whom only bliss they ad, for that that ech man thinkes Aboue the rest exceede, that greatest good he thinkes. And greatest bll We suppose blisse to be, which makes men think blessedst thing, that ech Man aboue the rest couetes. before thyn eyes thou hast the forme sett out of Mans felicitie, Riches, honour, poWre, gLory and delyte, Which Last only, the Epicure considering, hit folloWes that the greatest good he thought, for that delyte seem bringes all delytefull thing to Mynde. but Let Me retourn to mans study, Whose Mynde Albeit with blynded memory, he yet seekes the greatest good, but as dronken man knoWes not the path to bring him home: doo they seeme to err that Nothing to Neede desyres? for that nought can so Well obtayne happynes As fLoWing state of all good thinges, Not Needing others, contented With it self. be they deceaud that hit supposith best that Worthyest is of Reuerente respecte, No sure, Nether is that Vyle to be despisde that the care of ech ech mans Labor is to couets couettes to gett. Is Not force to be Nombred Among good thinges. What then, is that weake and to be estemid feeble that of all other thinges exceedes? Is Not honour to be regarded? It can Not be denyed, but that that is Most Worth, ought be Most honord. for

25. higher . . . commended higher things “superiora,” in the sense of “abovementioned,” misconstrued by Elizabeth as “ethically superior.” be referred be related. whose . . . commended “Robur . . . magnitudoque videtur praestare valentiam” (Strength and bigness seem to offer power). 26. [health] . . . add [health] . . . delight “salubritas voluptatem” (health [provides] delight). What Elizabeth dictated to Windebank evidently included “health” because he first wrote this, then struck it through and wrote “hath” above it. He may also have misheard a “her” as “their,” for the plural possessive should be a reference to health’s delight. to whom . . . add Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “quibus omnibus solam beatitudinem desiderare” (in all these things happiness alone is lacking); modern editions read “desiderari” (in all these things happiness alone is desired). Elizabeth’s construal of Pulmann’s puzzling text is equally puzzling: she may mean ‘to which (desirable) things, they (people) add only (a desire for) bliss,’ or she may mean ‘to which (desirable) things alone, they (people) add bliss (as the completion of desire).’ 27. thinks . . . exceed deems superior to the rest; “prae ceteris petit” (seeks above other things). 28. we suppose Pulmann’s edition reads “definimus” (we assert, define). 29. Which . . . mind Considering only delight, the “epicure” accordingly thought it the greatest good, because it brings all delightful things to the mind; “Quae quidem sola considerans Epicurus consequenter sibi summum bonum voluptatem esse constituit, quod

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bigness it is that makes their work commended.25 Beauty and agility, their fame; [health] hath their delight; to whom only bliss they add.26 For that that each man thinks above the rest exceed,27 that greatest good he thinks. And greatest we suppose28 bliss to be, which makes men think blessed’st thing, that each man above the rest covets. Before thine eyes thou hast the form set out of man’s felicity: riches, honor, power, glory, and delight. Which last only, the epicure considering, it follows that the greatest good he thought, for that delight brings all delightful thing to mind.29 “But let me return to man’s study, whose mind, albeit with blinded memory, yet seeks30 the greatest good, but, as drunken man, knows not the path to bring him home. Do they seem to err, that nothing to need desires? For that naught can so well obtain happiness as flowing state of all good things, not needing others, contented with itself.31 Be they deceived, that it supposeth best, that worthiest is of reverent respect? No, sure; neither is that vile, to be despised, that the care of each man’s labor covets to get. Is not force to be numbered among good things? What then, is that weak and to be esteemed feeble, that of all other things exceeds?32 Is not honor to be regarded? It cannot be denied but that, that is most worth, ought be most honored.33 For

cetera omnia iucunditatem animo videantur afferre” (Considering only these things—i.e., the five goods—Epicurus consequently decided that for him pleasure was the highest good, because other things seemed to bring pleasure to the mind). Elizabeth construes “quae” as if were “quam” and referred only to delight, rather than to all five goods. the epicure a disciple of Epicurus or, more generally, a voluptuary. While Elizabeth may have mistaken Boethius’s “Epicurus” for the generic “Epicureus” or “Epicurius” (Epicurean), she more likely meant her wording to encompass all “epicures,” including those of her own day. The philosopher Epicurus (ca. 342–270 B.C.E.) argued that men should seek pleasure, defined as freedom from fear. His hedonist philosophy was often caricatured and derided in the ancient world and in Elizabethan England. 30. seeks “repetit” (seeks again)—a verb that, together with the reference to a “blinded” (obscured) memory of the good, carries Platonic overtones of the soul’s yearning to regain the perfection of the realm of Forms or Ideas. 31. For . . . itself For that Because; “Atqui” (But). contented with “sufficiens” (sufficient unto). 32. that . . . exceeds “quod omnibus rebus constat esse praestantius” (which it is agreed is more excellent than all other things). 33. be denied . . . honored be denied “sequestrari” (be removed—from consideration). most worth most valuable; “excellentissimum” (most excellent). ought be ought to be; “etiam videatur esse” (also seems to be).

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carefull and soroWfull, blisse We can not call, nor subiecte to care and Woe We May not saye, When in Lest thinges that is desyrd, that Most delytes haue and enioye, And these be those the then Which men Wold obtayne, and for their cause desyre ryches, diginitie, Kingdoms, Raygnes, gLory and delytes. for that by these they beLeeue they may gett ynough, honour poWre, gLory and Joye. Good it is therfore that Men by so Many Ways doo seeke; In Which, what force of Nature ther is, is shoWed, that tho dyuers and sondry opinyons, yet in LooVing goodnes end, they all consent. 2. Myter how many Raines of Causis gideth nature poWrefuL by Wiche the great the World with Lawes proVident kipes and tijinge Strains with VnLousing Knot eche thing WeL pleasests with shirLLest3 note expres with draWing strings Thogh Aϕricke Lionnes beare faire giues giues beare and take of giuen food With paW And CrueL kipar feares the Wontid stripes that bare: If bloud haue ons dypt dyed ther Looke Ther t courage retournes to formar state and With Rorings Lowde them selues rememberring

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3. shirLLest shrillest. 34. careful . . . enjoy careful anxious; “anxiam.” we cannot . . . say Elizabeth simply denies, twice, that bliss contains negative feelings. Boethius’s governing construction, by contrast, is a praeteritio (summary mention of a subject while professing to omit it), “quid attinet dicere” (what is the point of stating—the obvious fact that bliss excludes negative feelings?). delights . . . enjoy delights people to have and enjoy. 35. and for . . . enough and . . . cause “eaque de causa” (and for this reason). enough “sibi sufficentiam” (self-sufficiency). 36. showed . . . consent showed Elizabeth does not translate the next word, “facile” (easily). goodness’ end the goal of goodness; “boni fine.” consent agree in sentiment; “consentiunt.” 37. provident foreseeing—said of “laws” or “Nature” (or both). In Boethius, “provida” modifies “natura.” 38. And . . . thing “Stringatque ligans inresoluto / Singula nexu” (And draws together each single thing, tying it in an indissoluble bond). strains binds fast. unloosing not coming undone.

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careful and sorrowful, bliss we cannot call; nor subject to care and woe we may not say, when in least things that is desired, that most delights have and enjoy.34 And these be those which men would obtain, and for their cause, desire riches, dignity, reigns, glory, and delights; for that, by these, they believe they may get enough,35 honor, power, glory, and joy. Good it is, therefore, that men by so many ways do seek. In which, what force of Nature there is, is showed that, though divers and sundry opinions, yet in loving goodness’ end, they all consent.”36 Meter 2 How many reins of causes guideth Nature powerful, by which the great World with laws provident37 keeps, And tying, strains with unloosing Knot each thing;38 well pleases with shrill’st Note, express with drawing strings.39 Though Afric lions fair Gyves bear, and take of given food with paw,40 And cruel keeper fears, the wonted stripes that bare: If blood have, once, dyèd their look,41 Their courage42 returns to former state, And, with roarings loud themselves remembering

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39. well . . . strings “placet arguto / Fidibus lentis promere cantu” (it pleases me to express, with my pliant strings, in piercing, melodious song). shrill’st most penetrating. High-pitched sound was often regarded in the Renaissance as melodious: see Milton’s “shrill matin song of birds” (Paradise Lost 5.7). express to express. with drawing with bending (as of a bow); “lentis” (with pliant). 40. Afric . . . paw Lions were kept at Rome for public entertainments. Afric “Poeni” (Punic, from north Africa). fair / Gyves handsome chains; “pulchra . . . vincula.” Alternatively, “fair” could modify “lions,” a construal not possible in the Latin. take . . . paw Elizabeth misconstrues “manibusque datas / Captent esca” (and may eagerly take food given them by hands—i.e., humans). 41. And . . . look And the lions that bear accustomed whiplashes fear their cruel keeper, but if blood once dyes their face; “metuantque trucem / Soliti verbera ferre magistrum, / Si cruor horrida tinxerit ora” (And though they, accustomed to beatings, may their harsh master fear, if blood should tinge their bristling jaws). look Renders “ora,” which can mean ‘face’ but here means ‘jaws.’ Elizabeth does not translate “horrida.” 42. courage “Resides olim . . . animi” (long-dormant spirits).

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SLacks from tied knotz ther necks ^ ^ and and furius, first with CrueL tothe On kipar Raginge Wrathe bestoWes.4 The Chatting bird that sings on hiest boW In A hoLoW den is Shut is she to this thogh Cups with hony Lined And Largest food With tendar Loue frame begiling Care of man bestowes If yet skipping on the Eauese Spies pleasing shady wood With fote she treds she on her skatterd meat in Sorowing Seakes the Woodz alone And With sWit Vois the triees Resountz the tWig drawen ons with mighty fors boWing plies her top the same if boWing bending hand do Lose sLack The top Vpright doth turne The Son to the Hesperius Waters falz But by Secret pathe againe His Cart turnes to Est againe Eache thing Sekes owt his propre Cours and do Reiois at retourne ther oWen Nor ordar giuen to any remains onles he Joininge to end his first And So do stedyeS his hoLe Round

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4. and . . . bestoWes Elizabeth wrote lines 14 and 15 vertically in the left margin of fol. 37r and keyed their position in the body of the poem with carets. 43. Slacks They loosen. 44. And . . . bestows “Largasque dapes dulci studio / Ludens hominum cura ministret” (Though men’s care, trifling [with the birds], may serve abundant feasts with tender kindness). with . . . frame with . . . contrivance, rendering “studio” (with care). Beguiling Charming, Deluding; “Ludens” (Trifling with, Deluding). 45. on . . . eaves, / Spies on . . . eaves Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “tecto” (on a roof). Modern editions read “texto” (in wicker cage). Spies she spies. 46. seeks . . . resounds seeks “requirit” (misses, desires), evoking a caged bird’s longing for her native woods. In keeping with Pulmann’s image of a rooftop bird, Elizabeth imagines her flying home. the . . . resounds “Silvas . . . susurrat” (murmurs, “The woods”). Boethius’s unusual transitive use of an intransive verb suggests the pathos of the

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Slacks43 from tied knots their necks; And, furious, first with cruel tooth, On keeper raging wrath bestows. The chatting bird that sings on highest bough, In hollow den shut is she; To this, though cups with honey lined, And largest food, with tender frame Beguiling care of man bestows,44 If yet, skipping on the eaves, Spies45 pleasing, shady wood, With foot she treads her scattered meat; In sorrowing, seeks the woods alone, And with sweet voice the trees resounds.46 The twig, drawn once with mighty force, Bowing, plies her top; The same, if bending hand do slack, The top upright doth turn.47 The Sun to Hesperus’ waters falls, But, by secret path, again His cart turns to East.48 Each thing seeks out his proper course49 And do rejoice at return, their own: Nor order given to any remains Unless he, joining to end his first,50 And so, steadies his whole round.

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bird longing in song for absent trees. By contrast, Elizabeth’s “resounds” can mean both that the bird celebrates the trees (in a now obsolete sense of the verb) and that it makes them echo with song. Her verb choice perhaps recalls Tityrus’s love song that makes the “woods resound” (“resonare . . . silvas”) in Virgil Eclogue 1.5. 47. The . . . turn “Recto spectat vertice caelum” (with upright top beholds the sky). 48. East “solitos . . . ortus” (accustomed risings), apparently construed by Elizabeth as “solis ortus,” which, often shortened to “ortus,” means ‘East.’ 49. Each . . . course “Repetunt proprios quaeque recursus” (All things seek again their own proper returnings). The repeated “re-” prefix, not rendered by Elizabeth, stresses the Neoplatonic notion of return to the divine source. 50. Unless . . . first “Nisi quod fini iunxerit ortum” (Unless it—a created thing—join origin to end).

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3. Pr[ose]. You allso o erthly Wightes, though by single opinion figure doe dreame of your own begynning and that true end of blissednes perceaue, tho With no playne yet With som thought, Vnderstand. And thither thither bringes you A Naturall instinct to true goodnes, and increasing errour leades you from the same. Consider therfore Whither men can obtayne their end desyrd, by those Meanes that Men suppose gettes happynes. for if any by eyther monny, honors or such lyke can bring such thinges to Whom nothing is lacking of, best, Let Vs then confesse that som men may be happy by their obteyning. for if neyther they can doo that they promise, and Wantes greatyst good, Is it not euident that they haue but a false show of blessidnes? first therfore let Me ask the that a little afore aboundedste in ryches, Among thy fLoWing heaps, did not conceyte of conceauid iniury amase thy Mynde? I can Not remember quoth I that euer my mynde was so free but somWhat greeuid it Was it Not because that that Was a waye that thou Woldest Not forgo, or Was With the that thou caredst Not I for? I answerd, so it is. Then thou desyredst the ones presence, and the others Want. I confesse. does any man need than, sayd quoth she, that euery Man Wantes and needes? he that Lackes suffisith not himself is not Wholly content. No sure. When thou hadst Welth ynough, hadst thou Not this Want? What els, said I. Then Riches can Not make a Man lack Nothing, Nor yet content

51. by . . . figure “tenui . . . imagine” (with a faint image). single slight, poor. 52. though . . . understand “licet minimi perspicaci qualicumque cogitatione” (though very far from acute, yet with some sort of conception). 53. increasing “multiplex” (many kinds), construed by Elizabeth as “multiplicans” (increasing). 54. to whom to which. 55. greatest good “bonis . . . pluribus” (very many goods). 56. conceit . . . injury “concepta ex qualibet iniuria . . . anxietas” (anxiety . . . conceived from some kind of injury). 57. somewhat . . . it something troubled it. Pulmann’s edition reads “aliquid . . . angeret” (something . . . tormented). somewhat something.

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Prose 3 “You also, O earthly wights, though by single figure51 do dream of your own beginning, and that true end of blessedness perceive, though with no plain yet with some thought understand.52 And thither brings you a natural instinct to true goodness, and increasing53 error leads you from the same. Consider, therefore, whether men can obtain their end desired, by those means that men suppose gets happiness. For if either money, honors, or suchlike can bring such things to whom54 nothing is lacking of best, let us then confess that some men may be happy by their obtaining. For if neither they can do that they promise, and wants greatest good,55 is it not evident that they have but a false show of blessedness? First, therefore, let me ask thee, that a little afore aboundedst in riches: Among thy flowing heaps, did not conceit of conceived injury56 amaze thy mind?” “I cannot remember,” quoth I, “that ever my mind was so free, but somewhat grieved it.”57 “Was it not because that was away that thou wouldst not forgo, or was with thee that thou caredst not for?”58 I answered: “So it is.” “Then thou desiredst the one’s presence, and the other’s want.” “I confess.” “Does any man need, then,” quoth she, “that every man wants and needs? He that lacks is not wholly content?”59 “No, sure.” “When thou hadst wealth enough, hadst thou not this want?” “What else?” said I. “Then riches cannot make a man lack nothing, nor yet content

58. because . . . for? “vel aberat quod abesse non velles vel aderat quod adesse noluisses?” (either because something was absent that you did not wish to be absent or because something was there that you did not wish to be there?). away absent. 59. Does . . . content? Does . . . needs? “ ‘Eget vero,’ inquit, ‘eo quod quisque desiderat?’ ‘Eget,’ inquam.” (“But a man lacks that which he desires?” she said. “Yes, he lacks it,” I said.) By seeming to assign both question and response to Philosophy, Elizabeth renders her speech tautological. “And needs” is probably, however, Windebank’s mishearing of “He needs,” i.e., ‘He lacks,’ a rendering of the speaker Boethius’s affirmative response “Eget.” wholly content “sibi ipse sufficiens” (self-sufficient). Elizabeth again translates “sufficientem” as “content” four sentences later.

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himself. And this is that promise they seemed. This I suppose ought Most be considered, that Monny of his oWn Nature hath nothing that he can Not be spoyled of, that possesses it. I confesse it. Why shoulst thou not confesse yt. Whan a Mightyer takes it aWay from the VnWilling. Whense come these Courtes complayntes? but that coyne is taken aWay from the VnWilling Losers by force or guyle? he shall haue Neede therfore of so outWard help by Which his Monney he may Keepe. Who can this deny? He should Not neede such help that possest of monny that Lose he Wold not. This is doutles. The Matter is fallen otherwise noW, for such riches as Were thought sufficient of them selves, are needy of ay an others ayde. but what is the way to dryve aWay Lack from ryches? for rych Men they say can they Not honger, can they Not they thirst, can Not somtyme the cold Wynter hurt the lymmes of the rich man? But you Will say they haue ynough thurst and colde to dryue aWay. but by this meanes you May saye the Lack of rich men may be comforted, neuer taken aWay. for if she euer gape and serch for som thing els, tho fild with ryches ynough, it Must be that ther be somthing remaynes that suruiues it should be filld withall. I Neede not tell you that Nature with Lest,5 and Auarice with Nothing is contented. Wherfor if nether Riches can take away their Lack, and they make their oWn neede, why should we think them sufficient?

3. M[yter] Thogh riche man With fLowing golden golfe Couetous hepes not rechis that Suffice 5. Lest least. 60. takes . . . away Elizabeth does not translate Philosophy’s “cotidie” (every day), which follows here. 61. courts’. . . losers courts’ complaints lawsuits. from . . . losers “nolentibus” (from the unwilling). Elizabeth avoids “unwilling,” which she used in the previous sentence to translate “invitis.” 62. “Who . . . deny?” This and the next reply to Philosophy—“This is doubtless”— appear in reverse order in Boethius. 63. possessed . . . money “nisi possideret pecuniam” (if he did not possess money). Elizabeth or Windebank has left out a “not.”

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himself—and this is that promise they seemed. This, I suppose, ought most be considered, that money of his own nature hath nothing that he cannot be spoiled of, that possesses it.” “I confess it.” “Why shouldst thou not confess it, when a mightier takes it away60 from the unwilling? Whence come these courts’ complaints, but that coin is taken away from the losers61 by force or guile? He shall have need, therefore, of outward help, by which his money he may keep.” “Who can this deny?”62 “He should not need such help, that, possessed of money,63 lose he would not.” “This is doubtless.” “The matter is fallen otherwise now, for such riches as were thought sufficient of themselves64 are needy of other’s aid. But what is the way to drive away lack from riches? For65 rich men, can they not hunger, can they not thirst? Cannot sometime the cold winter hurt the limbs of the rich man? But you will say, they have enough, thirst and cold to drive away. But by this means you may say the lack of rich men may be comforted, never taken away. For if she ever66 gape and search for something else, though filled with riches enough,67 it must be that there something remains, that it should be filled withal. I need not tell you that Nature with least, and avarice with nothing, is contented. Wherefore, if neither riches can take away their lack, and they make their own need, why should we think them sufficient?” Meter 3 Though rich man, with flowing golden gulf, Covetous, heaps not riches that suffice,68

64. sufficient . . . themselves “sufficientes sibi facere” (to make them [men] selfsufficient). 65. For “Nam,” the conjunction in Pulmann’s edition. 66. she ever she i.e., lack / “indigentia,” a feminine noun antecedent. ever always. 67. enough Elizabeth’s addition. 68. Covetous . . . suffice “Non expleturas cogat avarus opes” (Let the covetous pile up riches that will not satisfy). Here and in the next line Elizabeth renders subjunctives as indicatives.

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His neck adornes With geme of Reddis Sea With hundred Yoke oxe the fruitful fildz doth tiL Yet Eating Care Leues not him quicke Nor ded the fliting good accompagnis

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[4. Prose.] But thou wilt say dignities makes honorable, reuerenced to whom they hap. haue then the dignities this force? that they can ingraff in Vsers Myndes Vertue, and expulse Vice, Nay they are Wont, not to chace iniquitie but to adorn it; so as We disdayne somtyme that they should hap to Wickedst men: Wherfore Catullus tho Nonius sate as Curule, calld him Lump of flesh. dost thou see hoW great a shame somtyme dignity receuith, Which indignitie should Not be to so euident if honour should Not show it. You allso, could you haue bene brought by so Many perils to accompany decoratus in office When in him thou you sawest a mynde of a Wicked Ruffin, and sLanderer tongue? for We can not for honors sake iuge them Worthy Reuerence, Whom we suppose Vnworthy of their dignities. but if thou sawest a Wyse man, n couldst thou not think him Wourthy of reuerence euin for that Wisdom he enioyes: Yes surely, for ther is a peculier dignitie for Vertue, Which Alltogither is bestoWde on them to Whom she haps. Which because it thy they cannot euer not euer make haue euer haue popular honors, yet they may not enioy the beauty of their dignitie, Worth Wherin this is to be Noted, that if it be the lesse Worth that it is 69. His . . . Sea Pulmann’s edition reads “Ornetque bacis colla rubri litoris” (Let him adorn his neck with Red Sea pearls). All other sixteenth-century editions consulted and modern editions read “Oneretque” (Let him load). gem . . . Sea pearls, for which the Red Sea was renowned. 70. quick while living; “superstitem.” 71. dignities high offices; “magistratibus” (public offices). 72. disdain . . . sometime disdain are indignant or offended. sometime “saepe” (often). 73. sat . . . flesh sat . . . curule See book 2, prose 3, n74. lump . . . flesh “strumam” (lymphatic tumor of the neck). The Roman poet Catullus (ca. 84–54 B.C.E.) used the epithet in attacking the otherwise unidentified Nonius (poem 52, line 2). 74. how. . . receiveth? “quantum malis dedecus adiciant dignitates?” (how much dishonor high honors attach to bad men?). 75. indignity . . . it indignity unworthiness; “indignitas.” if . . . it “si nullis honoribus inclarescant” (if they were not well known for honors). 76. Decoratus A magistrate, possibly a quaestor, ca. 508 C.E.

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His neck adorns with gem of Reddest Sea;69 With hundred ox the fruitful fields doth till: Yet eating care leaves not him, quick;70 Nor dead, the fleeting good accompanies.

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Prose 4 “But thou wilt say dignities makes honorable, reverenced, to whom they hap. Have, then, the dignities71 this force, that they can engraft, in users’ minds, virtue and expulse vice? Nay, they are wont not to chase iniquity but to adorn it: so as we disdain sometime72 that they should hap to wickedest men. Wherefore Catullus, though Nonius sat as curule, called him ‘lump of flesh.’73 Dost thou see how great a shame, sometime, dignity receiveth?74 Which indignity should not be so evident, if honor should not show it.75 You, also, could you have been brought by so many perils to accompany Decoratus76 in office, when in him you saw a mind of a wicked ruffian, and slanderertongue? For we cannot, for honors’ sake, judge them worthy reverence whom we suppose unworthy of their dignities. “But if thou sawest a wise man, couldst thou not think him worthy of reverence, even for that wisdom he enjoys? Yes, surely.77 For there is a peculiar dignity for virtue, which altogether78 is bestowed on them to whom she haps. Which, because they cannot ever have popular honors, they may not enjoy the beauty of their worth.79 Wherein this is to be noted: that if it be the less worth, that it is 77. couldst . . . surely “num posses eum vel reverentia vel ea qua est praeditus sapientia non dignum putare? Minime” (could you think him not worthy of respect or of that wisdom with which he is endowed? Surely not). couldst . . . worthy could you think him not worthy. Yes, surely Surely not. “Yes” in sixteenth-century English could signify assent to a negative question. 78. altogether i.e., “for altogether,” permanently; “protinus” (continuously). 79. Which . . . worth “Quod quia populares facere nequeunt honores, liquet eos propriam dignitatis pulchritudinem non habere” (Which, since popular honors cannot do— i.e., give true dignity—it is clear that they do not have the beauty proper to dignity). By construing the aforementioned virtuous men as the subject, and the actual grammatical subject, “populares . . . honores,” as the object, Elizabeth understands Boethius to be remarking on the inability of the virtuous to attain the popular honors that they deserve rather than on the nullity of such honors. She also probably misread “facere” (to do) in the first clause as “habere” (to have) from the next clause, yielding “have popular honors,” while she mistook “liquet” (it is clear) in the second clause for “licet” (it is permitted), yielding “they may.”

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dispised of Many, When they can Not Make them reuerenced thorow the contempt that many makes it, Then honor Makes many Wicked, but yet not without punishment: for Wicked men giues this good turn to dignitie, that they spot them With their oWn infection. And that thou Mayst KnoW that true honor can not hap by these shaded dignities, gather it thus, Yf a man haue oft tymes bene Consul, and fortune to com to barbarous Nations, shall there those honours Make him be esteemd? Yf this be a Naturall gyft to all dignities, Whither euer they go, they should Vse the selfe office, As the fyre in ech Country neuer Leaues to bring burne, but because not their oWn force but false humayne opinion hath bred it, straight they Vanish when to them they com that esteemes Not such dignities. but thus much for foren Nations. Among them that made them, doo they euer Last? The Prefectures office Was once a greate poWre, noW a Vayne name and S a combersom Waight of Senators Censure. he Was Wont be greate that cared for the peeples prouisions No[w w]hat6 baser than that office. For as a little afore I said, That it had Nothing in it self of his own proper Valure, that takes his or Loses Luster by the Vsers opinion. Yf then honors can Not Make men reuerenced, which are despsd by how Wicked mens infection? if by change of tyme they leave to be famous, yf by Vulgar opinion? despysd, What beauty haue they in them selves, or can giue to others?

6. No[w w]hat A hole and inkblot have obliterated two letters in the manuscript on fol. 38v. 80. if . . . many “si eo abiectior est quo magis a pluribus quisque contemnitur” (if a man is more abject, the more he is despised by the many). 81. when . . . wicked Elizabeth struggles with Pulmann’s awkwardly punctuated text: “cum reverendos facere nequeat, quos pluribus ostentat despectiores, potius improbos dignitas facit” (since it [high office] cannot make those worthy of respect, whom it shows more contemptible to the many, it instead makes them [its recipients] wicked). Modern editions place a comma after “ostentat,” yielding the reading “Since high office cannot make worthy of respect those whom it shows to the many, it instead makes bad men more despised.” when since. they public honors; Elizabeth changes a singular subject to plural. through . . . it Elizabeth’s obscure formulation seems to mean that public honor incurs the contempt of the many. A dictation error may be involved. 82. gives . . . them gives . . . dignity “reddunt . . . parem dignitatibus vicem” (pay proportionate compensation to high offices). spot them sully these dignities; “quas . . . commaculant.” Elizabeth shifts to Boethius’s plural from her initally singular form, “dignity.” 83. shaded “umbratiles.” In classical Latin, “umbratilis” referred to activities carried out in the “shade” of retirement from public life. Boethius redirects the term to refer to “shadowy,” because ultimately unreal, public honors.

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despised of many,80 when they cannot make them reverenced, through the contempt that many makes it, then honor makes many wicked.81 But yet not without punishment; for wicked men gives this good turn to dignity, that they spot them82 with their own infection. “And that thou mayst know that true honor cannot hap by these shaded83 dignities, gather it thus: If a man have ofttimes been consul, and fortune to come to barbarous nations, shall there honors make him be esteemed? If this be a natural gift to all dignities, whither ever they go, they should use the self-office: as the fire in each country84 never leaves to burn. But because not their own force but false human opinion hath bred it, straight they vanish, when to them they come that esteems not such dignities. But thus much for foreign nations. Among them that made them, do they ever last? The prefecture’s office was once a great power, now a vain name, and a cumbersome weight of senators’ censure.85 He was wont be great that cared for the people’s provisions.86 Now, what baser than that office? For, as a little afore I said, that it had nothing in itself of his own proper value, that takes or loses luster by the users’ opinion. If, then, honors cannot make men reverenced, which are despised by wicked men’s infection; if by change of time they leave to be famous; if by vulgar opinion despised, what beauty have they in themselves or can give others?”87

84. should . . . country should . . . self-office should keep the same function. Elizabeth recasts a negative locution: “ab officio suo quoquo gentium nullo modo cessarent” (they would not in any manner lose their function among any peoples). in . . . country “ubique terrarum” (everywhere on earth). 85. prefecture’s . . . censure prefecture’s office “praetura.” The praetorship, once an important judicial office, became in the late empire a meaningless post for which the senatorial order was forced to pay. weight . . . censure “senatorii census . . . sarcina” (a burden upon senators’ wealth). Elizabeth confuses “census” with “censura.” 86. be . . . provisions be great to be great; “magnus habebatur” (was regarded as great). people’s provisions “annonam” (provision of cheap or free grain). 87. are despised . . . others are despised “sordescunt” (become soiled). vulgar . . . despised “gentium aestimatione vilescunt” (are cheapened in peoples’ judgment). Elizabeth injects the connotations of “vulgar” status into Boethius’s reiterated point that the diverse peoples of the world do not honor the same things. what . . . others “quid est quod in se expetendae pulchritudinis habeant, nedum aliis praestent?” (what beauty to be sought can they have in themselves, let alone offer to others?).

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[4. Myter] Thogh the proude man With Tirivs Shelles be deckt and shining stone hated yet of alL Liued Nero for CrueL Lust but ons Thogh wicked he gaue Vnmete Curules to reuerent fathers Who yet happy thoght them Whom Wicketdz Sort do honor esteemed

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[5. Prose] But Rel Kingdomes and Kinges familiarities, can they Not make a Man happy. What els? yf their felicitie euer Last. But full be old examples and of present age that kinges haue changed With Misery their Lott. O Noble poWres, which is not able to Keepe them selves. yf this Raigne of Kinges be Autour of felicytie, shall it Not bring Misery in Part that Lackes, and so diminish Luck? For tho mens dominions stretch furr, yet More peeple ther must needes be, neuer acquaynted that Many peeple be Lest Unacquaynted with kinges Raigne. For Wher t they making felicitie endith, there skanted is the force, and so Wretched they be makes. Thus Must it Needes folloW that greatest portion of Myserye of Kinges haue. The tyrant that proued the danger of his Lot. dissembled the feare of his Raignes feare by sword vn hanging on his head, What then is poWre? that can Not chace nether

88. Tyrius’ shells Tyrius’ “Tyrio” (Tyrian, of Tyre). shells “ostro” (purple dye), a sign of luxury, which Elizabeth evidently confused with “ostreo” (oyster). 89. shining stone “niveis lapillis” (with snow-white precious stones). 90. But . . . fathers “Sed quondam dabat improbus verendis / Patribus indecores curules” (Yet, once wicked [Nero] gave to reverend / Senators unfitting curules). Unmeet curules Unfitting curules. Renaissance and modern commentators have glossed “indecores curules” as meaning either that Nero gave senators honors that were unbecoming because they derived from him or that he thrust magistrates unworthy of curule rank upon the senators. Elizabeth’s expansion of “improbus” (wicked) to “though wicked” hints at the former interpretation. fathers Roman senators. 91. Who . . . esteemed “Quis illos igitur putet beatos / Quos miseri tribuunt honores?” (Who could think those honors blessed / Which wretched men bestow?) wicked’st sort “miseri” (wretched men). Elizabeth perhaps employs the superlative of “wicked” in its common late medieval sense of ‘poor, vile.’

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Meter 4 Though the proud man with Tyrius’ shells88 Be decked, and shining stone,89 Hated yet of all, lived Nero For cruel lust. But once, though wicked, he gave Unmeet curules to rev’rend fathers.90 Who yet happy thought them, Whom wicked’st sort esteemed?91

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Prose 5 “But kingdoms and kings’ familiarities, can they not make a man happy?92 What else, if their felicity ever last? But full be old examples, and of present age, that kings have changed with misery their lot. O noble powers, which is not able to keep themselves!93 If this reign of kings be author of felicity, shall it not bring misery in part that lacks, and so diminish luck?94 For though men’s dominions stretch far, yet more people there must needs be, unacquainted with king’s reign. For where the making felicity endeth, there scanted is the force,95 and so, wretched makes. Thus must it needs follow that greatest portion of misery96 kings have. The tyrant that proved the danger of his lot dissembled his reign’s fear by sword hanging on his head.97 What, then, is power, that cannot chase bites of care nor shun the stings of

92. happy? “potentem” (powerful). 93. O . . . themselves Condenses and slightly rephrases “O praeclara potentia quae ne ad conservationem quidem sui satis efficax invenitur!” (O most glorious power, that is discovered not to be effective enough even for preserving itself!). 94. shall . . . luck? “nonne si qua parte defuerit, felicitatem minuat, miseriam inportet?” (if it were lacking in any part, would it not diminish happiness, and cause misery?). Elizabeth does not translate “miseriam importet.” 95. scanted . . . force “inpotentia subintrat” (powerlessness creeps in). 96. greatest . . . misery “maiorem . . . miseriae portionem” (a greater proportion of misery—i.e., than of happiness). 97. The . . . head The tyrant Dionysius I of Syracuse (430–367 B.C.E.). Cicero tells his story, including an allusion to the sword of Damocles, in Tusculan Disputations 5.21.61– 62. proved knew by experience. dissembled simulated by imitating.

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bittes of Care nor shun the stinges of feare? Will they haue to lyue secure, But may not hereof com and yet boast of their force?7 dost thou suppose him, mighty, Whom thou seest, can Not what he Wold, performe: Dost thou think him strong that fills his sydes with garde, that Whom he affrightes, himself doth feare? Who that he May seeme Mighty, throWes himself to the handes of sLaues. What shall I speake of Kinges fauorites, When the Kingdoms themsellves I haue shewde full of such Weaknes? Whom I hau ofttymes Kinges force hath preseruid, som tymes opprest. Nero compeld Seneck his familiar and tutour to chose his oWn death. Antony Th threw to soldiors gLaiues pari papinian Longe in Courte, of Credit. And both Wold Willingly giue Vp their autoritie. Seneck offerd Nero all his goodes and straue to return to his oWn ease. but While the Waight it self thrust them doWne, nether that he Wold obtayned What is this autoritie then? Which the hauers feare, such as When thou Woldst haue, art Not safe, and than seest seekest putt off, canst Not shun? A shall thy frendes be helpers, Whom not Vertue but fortune got the. bute Whom felicitie made a frend, acquaintance Misery Makes An ennemy. What plague is there More of strength to hurt harme8 than a familiar Ennemy? 5. M[yter.] he that Sikes mighty to be Cruel myndz must tame Nor Won With foWLLe Lust his neck

7. ? This question mark in lighter ink may be an addition in Elizabeth’s hand. For the difficulty it poses, see n98 below. 8. harme Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 98. Will . . . force Will . . . not “vellent ipsi vixisse securi, sed nequeunt” (they would like to have lived without care, but cannot). Will . . . live They have a will to live. secure without care. yet . . . force? “dehinc de potestate gloriantur” (and hence they boast of their power). This is not a question but a sardonic comment by Boethius. The question mark in the manuscript could be construed as an exclamation, which might be punctuated with a question mark in this period. Alternatively, Windebank might have mistaken Elizabeth’s phrase “Will they have” as introducing a question and added the question mark. 99. whom . . . slaves whom . . . fear he himself fears those he frightens; “qui quos terret ipse plus metuit” (those he affrights he himself fears more). throws . . . slaves “in servientium manu situm est” (has placed himself in his subjects’ / slaves’ hands). Elizabeth selects the more highly colored sense of “servientium” in this context.

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fear? Will they have to live secure, but may not; yet boast of their force?98 Dost thou suppose him mighty, whom thou seest cannot, what he would, perform? Dost thou think him strong that fills his sides with guard, that whom he affrights, himself doth fear: who, that he may seem mighty, throws himself to the hands of slaves?99 “What shall I speak of kings’ favorites, when the kingdoms themselves I have showed full of such weakness? Whom ofttimes kings’ force hath preserved, sometimes oppressed.100 Nero compelled Seneca, his familiar and tutor, to choose his own death.101 Antony threw to soldiers’ glaives Papinian,102 long in court of credit. And both would willingly give up their authority: Seneca offered Nero all his goods, and strove to return to his own ease.103 But while the weight itself104 thrust them down, neither, that he would, obtained. What is this authority, then, which the havers fear: such as when thou wouldst have, art not safe, and seekest put off, canst not shun? Shall thy friends be helpers, whom not virtue but Fortune got thee? But whom felicity made a friend, misery makes an enemy. What plague is there, more of strength to harm, than a familiar enemy?”

Meter 5 He that seeks mighty be, Cruel minds105 must tame; Nor, won with lust, his neck

100. Whom . . . oppressed “Quos quidem regia potestas saepe incolumis saepe autem lapsa prosternit” (favorites whom royal power ruins often, both when it is secure and when it is overthrown). Elizabeth shifts the contrast from the different fates of kingdoms to the different fates of favorites. 101. Nero . . . death Nero . . . Seneca See Tacitus Annals 1.14.53–54, and book 2, meter 6 above. death manner of dying. 102. Antony . . . Papinian Papinian, a great Roman jurist and praetorian prefect under the emperor Septimius Severus, was killed ca. 212 C.E. by Severus’s son, M. Antoninus Caracalla. glaives swords. 103. ease “otium” (ease, retirement). 104. weight itself “moles,” literally a heavy mass; figuratively, Seneca’s greatness and Nero’s power. 105. Cruel minds “Animos . . . feroces” (savage spirits), referring to the need for selfgovernance by the man who seeks power. Elizabeth apparently construes the phrase as referring to enemies or rivals.

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being to filthy raynes subdue Thogh India Soyle far of At thy Lawes do shake ^ And uttermost IsLand serue the to9 Yet is hit not thy Powre hiden Cares ExpeL Nor Wretched mones Expulse thou Canst not

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6. Prose But glory hoW begyling hoW falce foWLe is she? Wherfore the Tragik poet Wrongfully excLaymes not O Glory glory, to on thousandes of Men nought Worth, a greate Name thou haste bestoWed. for many hathe haue Lost greate renoune through Vulgar false opinion, than Which what can be Worsse? for they that falsely betrayed be praised10 Needes Must they blush at their oWn prayses Laude11 which if they hit12 may be got by desart, what may they alloW the conscience of a Wise Man. Who mesurith not his good by popular fame, but Conscience trouth? And if to stretch fur of mens fame, seeme best, it folloWes then, to sKant the same is worst. but since As I haue afore tolde, it Must nedes be that many Nations ther ar13 to Whom the fame of one man could neuer com, It folloWes then that Whom you thought Most gLorious, in the next climate of the earth, seemes Vnspoken of. Among all this I suppose not poPular fauour Woorthy her of Memoriall, Whom Neyther Judgement bred, Nor steddy Lastes. But Now hoW Vayne, how slippery is Noble Name. Who sees it not?

9. ^And . . . to Elizabeth wrote line 7 in the right margin of fol. 39v and careted its point of insertion in the verse. 10. be praised Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 11. Laude Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 12. hit Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 13. ar Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 106. Nor . . . subdue “Nec victa libidine colla / Foedis submittat habenis” (He must not either submit his neck, conquered by lust, to its foul halter). 107. uttermost island “ultima Thule,” echoing Virgil Georgics 1.30. Thule denominated a land of uncertain identity in the far north of Europe. 108. Hidden “atras” (black, dark). 109. Expulse expel.

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To filthy reins subdue.106 Though India’ soil far off At thy laws do shake, And uttermost island107 serve thee too: Yet is it not thy power Hidden108 cares expel; Nor wretched moans Expulse109 thou canst not.

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Prose 6 “But glory—how beguiling, how foul is she! Wherefore the tragic poet wrongfully exclaims not: ‘O glory, glory, on thousands of men naught worth, a great name thou hast bestowed.’110 For many have lost great renown through vulgar’ false opinion,111 than which what can be worse? For they that falsely be praised, needs must they blush at their own laud. Which, if it may be got by desert, what may they allow112 the conscience of a wise man who measureth not his good by popular fame, but conscience’ truth? And if to stretch far men’s fame seem best, it follows, then, to scant the same is worst.113 But since, as I have afore told, it must needs be that many nations there are to whom the fame of one man could never come, it follows, then, that whom you thought most glorious, in the next climate114 of the earth seems unspoken of. Among all this, I suppose not popular favor worthy of memorial, whom neither judgment bred, nor steady lasts. But, now,

110. tragic . . . bestowed tragic poet Euripides Andromache 319–20. Boethius cites only the Greek: “ὦ δόξα δόξα μυρίοισι δὴ βροτῶν, / οὐδὲν γεγῶσι βίοτον ὤγκωσας μέγαν.” 111. For . . . opinion “Plures enim magnum saepe nomen falsis vulgi opinionibus abstulerunt” (For very many have often acquired a name from the false opinions of the vulgar). Evidently misled by the root sense of “abstulerent” (they took away), Elizabeth construed the passage as lamenting the unworthy loss of fame rather than its unworthy acquisition. 112. if . . . allow if even if; “si etiam.” may . . . allow may they [praises] accord; “adiecerint” (would they [praises] have added). 113. And . . . worst best “pulchrum” (fair). it . . . worst “ut foedum non extendisse iudicetur” (then, for it not to have been widely spread, must be judged foul). 114. next climate nearest region.

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Which if to honour you refer, An other Man Makes it. for nobilitie seemes to be A prayse proceeding of parentes desart, And if the speche therof make it KnoWen, they must be noble that be spoken of. Wherfore if thyne oWn thou haue not, An other mans laWde shall neuer make the famous. And if ther be Any good thing in Nobilitie, this I think it only, that it breedes the hauers A constraynte that they May not degenerate from their Auncestors Vertue. 6. M[yter] AL humain kind on erthe from Like begininge Comes One father is of alL One OnLy giueth alL al doth gide he gaue to Son the beames and hornes to on mone bestowd he men to erthe did giue and Signes to heauen he closed ing Limmes Our Soules fetched the from hiest Seat A noble Sede therfor broght furth alL mortaL foLKe What Crake you of your stock, Or forfathers OLd If your first spring and Author God you VieW No man bastard be Vnles with Vice the Worst he fede And Leueth So his birthe

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115. refer . . . it refer relate (it); “refertur” (it is related). another . . . it “aliena est” (it is another’s—i.e., one’s ancestor’s). 116. And . . . of “Quod si claritudinem praedicatio facit, illi sint clari necesse est qui praedicantur” (But if being talked about makes one famous, those who are talked about must be famous). it known i.e., nobility well known. noble illustrious, celebrated; “clari” (famous). Since Elizabeth also uses “noble” and “nobility” to render “nobilitas,” her word choice obscures Boethius’s argument that nobility (“nobilitas”) is vain insofar as it relies on the fame (“claritudo”) of others, one’s ancestors. 117. breeds . . . constraint causes the possessors to feel a necessity. Boethius is more tentative: “imposita nobilibus necessitudo videatur” (a necessity seems to be imposed upon the noble).

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how vain, how slippery is noble name? Who sees it not? Which, if to honor you refer, another man makes it:115 for nobility seems to be a praise proceeding of parents’ desert. And if the speech thereof make it known, they must be noble that be spoken of.116 Wherefore, if thine own thou have not, another man’s laud shall never make thee famous. And if there be any good thing in nobility, this I think it only: that it breeds the havers a constraint,117 that they may not degenerate from their ancestors’ virtue.” Meter 6 118 All humankind on earth From like beginning comes; One Father is of all, One only, all doth guide. He gave to sun the beams, And horns on moon bestowed; He men to earth did give, And signs119 to heav’n. He closed in limbs our souls Fetchèd from highest seat; A noble seed therefore brought forth All mortal folk. What crake120 you of your stock Or forefathers old? If your first spring, and Author, God, you view, No man bastard121 be, Unless with vice the worst he feed, And leaveth so, his birth.

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118. Meter 6 Elizabeth follows the lineation of Pulmann, who, like other Renaissance editors, presents meter 6 as eighteen lines of couplets with the second line indented, rather than the nine long lines of modern editions. Elizabeth translates line for line except for expanding line 14 to two. 119. signs constellations. Pulmann and all other Renaissance editions consulted read “sidera” (stars / constellations). 120. What crake What Why. crake cry out sharply; “strepitis” (shout). 121. bastard “degener” (baseborn). Both the literal and the figurative sense are in play.

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[7. Prose] But What should I speake of the bodyes pleasure, Whose greedie desyres be full of Wo, and sacietie breedes full of of Repentance, Who hoW What motion diseases, how intollerable intollerable14 paynes is Wont as a frute of Wickednes, hap to the enioyers body. What pleasure soeuer their motions haue I Know Not, but Who Will remember his oWn delites, shall Vnderstand What Wofull end those pleasures haue. Which if they could yeld Men happy ther is No cause Why beastes should not be lyke, Whose Wholle delite hyes to satisfy their lust. Most Laudable shuld be the delite of Wyfe and childe but I KnoW Not how somtyme against Nature it haps that children haue tormented them, Whose state hoW Wearing it is, I Neede Not Now tell the, But KnoWst it well ynough, and needes Nedest Not Now wayle it. Which makes me alloW Euripides opinion, Who said, he Was happy in mishap that Lackt ofspring. [7. Myter] Al deligh15 hathe this With hit With stinge inJoyars hit Like to the Winged flies Whan hony the haue made Away the go and with stikking Bygtite the stinged hartes strikes.

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14. intollerable intollerable The adjective, marked by Windebank for deletion, was instead reconfirmed by Elizabeth as her choice. 15. deligh delight. 122. will remember is willing to remember; “reminisci . . . volet.” 123. like. . . lust like i.e., happy like human beings, condensing “quoque beatae esse dicantur” (also may be said to be happy). lust Pulmann’s marginal gloss explain “corporalem lacunam” (bodily lack) as “lasciviam” (lust). Elizabeth translates the gloss in place of Boethius’s phrase. 124. but . . . them “sed nimis e natura dictum est nescio quem filios invenisse tortores” (but it has been said too well from—i.e., based on—nature that someone invented chil-

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Prose 7 “But what should I speak of the body’s pleasure, whose greedy desires be full of woe, and satiety of repentance? What diseases, how intolerable pains is wont, as fruit of wickedness, hap to the enjoyers’ body! What pleasure soever their motions have, I know not. But who will remember122 his own delights, shall understand what woeful end these pleasures have. Which, if they could yield men happy, there is no cause why beasts should not be like, whose whole delight hies to satisfy their lust.123 Most laudable should be delight of wife and child, but I know not how, sometime against nature, it haps that children have tormented them:124 whose state how wearing it is, I need not now tell thee, but knowest it well enough, and needest not now wail it.125 Which makes me allow Euripides’ opinion,126 who said he was happy in mishap that lacked offspring.”

Meter 7 All delight hath this with it: With sting enjoyers hit,127 Like to the wingèd flies When honey they have made, Away they go, and with sticking Bite, the stinged hearts strikes.

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dren to serve as torturers). Elizabeth misconstrues “nescio quem” (I know not whom, i.e., someone) as “I know not how,” “e natura” (based on nature) as “against nature,” and “invenisse” (invented) as “haps.” She does not translate “dictum.” 125. I . . . it “neque alias expertum te neque nunc anxium necesse est admonere” (there is no need to warn you who have experienced [it] at other times and even now are anxious). 126. allow . . . opinion allow approve. Euripides’ opinion In Andromache 420. Boethius gives a Latin translation only: “qui carentem liberis infortunio dixit esse felicem.” Elizabeth renders it closely and sharpens the paradox: “happy in mishap.” 127. With . . . hit “stimulis agit fruentes” (it stirs its enjoyers with a goad / sting).

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[8. Prose] Doubte then ther is None but that these to bLesse, be crooked steps, Nor thither can Any Man bring to co whither16 they promise leade him. hoW Wrapt they be in euills, shortly I can shew you. for f What Woldst wilt thou gather s snatch Monny, Thou Must take it W from the hauer. Woldst thou shyne With dignities? Thou Wilt pray the giuer; and thou that desyrst to aduaunce others in honour, with lowlynes of request, art dasht. Dost thou desyre poWre? to subjectes ambusshes thou shalt lye vanter therin in Danger. dost thou desyre seke glory? What is all this. Thou leauest to be sure, that art drawen by so sharp Wayes. Pleasurable lyfe dost thou desyre? but Who Wold not despise and throWe aWay the bodyes bondage so frayle and Vile? But Now, such as cares for corporall goodes, bodyes strength on hoW frayle and meane a possession doo they trust. Can you in force exceede the Elephantes Waight or bulls strength? Can you excell Shall you forego the Tigres swiftnes. LooK thou on heauens compass, stabilitie, and speede, and Leave to Wonder at that is base. A wonder marVeiL17 in reason it Were that heuen were Not More Worth Skye it selfe were were better than he by Whom it is guided Whose forme is so much the fayrer as it is caryed with speedy soudain18 and speedy chaynes change of Springes floures. Yf as Aristotle sayes, Men could Vse Linxes eyes to Peirce throW that they sawe, Wold they not Whan boWells All Were seene, suppose that that fayre Body Whose coVering Alcibiades spake of, should foWlest seeme? Wherfore not thy Nature but Weaknes of Vewars sight Makes the

16. whither Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 17. marVeiL Correction and insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 18. soudain Insertion in Elizabeth’s hand. 128. wilt . . . snatch “congregare conaberis” (will you try to amass). 129. advance . . . dashed advance advance over; “praeire” (go before, surpass). dashed cast down, abashed; “vilesces” (will grow cheap). 130. sure . . . ways sure safe. drawn . . . ways “per aspera quaeque distractus” (pulled by every hardship). sharp rough, rugged (described in the OED as a standard translation of “asper”). 131. such . . . strength “qui bona prae se corporis ferunt” (those who exalt the goods of their bodies). 132. in . . . weight “in force” and “weight” together render “mole” (in hugeness). force strength.

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Prose 8 “Doubt, then, there is none but that these, to bliss, be crooked steps; nor thither can any man bring, whither they promise lead him. How wrapped they be in evils, shortly I can show you. For, what! wilt thou snatch128 money? Thou must take it from the haver. Wouldst thou shine with dignities? Thou wilt pray the giver; and thou that desirest to advance others in honor, with lowliness of request art dashed.129 Dost thou desire power? To subjects’ ambushes thou shalt lie in danger. Dost thou seek glory? Thou leavest to be sure, that art drawn by so sharp ways.130 Pleasurable life dost thou desire? But who would not despise and throw away the body’s bondage, so frail and vile? But now, such as cares for body’s strength,131 on how frail and mean a possession do they trust! Can you in force exceed the elephant’s weight132 or bull’s strength? Shall you forego the tiger’s swiftness? “Look thou on heaven’s compass, stability, and speed, and leave to wonder at that is base. A marvel in reason it were that sky itself were better than He by whom it is guided.133 Whose form is so much the fairer as it is carried with sudden and speedy change of spring’s flowers.134 If, as Aristotle says, men could use lynx’s eyes to pierce through that they saw, would they not, when bowels all were seen, suppose that fair body whose covering Alcibiades spake of,135 should foulest seem? Wherefore, not thy nature, but weakness of viewers’ sight makes thee seem fair. Esteem how much you will, of body’s

133. A . . . guided “Quod quidem caelum non his potius est quam sua qua regitur ratione mirandum” (Though the heavens are not to be wondered at for these things, but rather for the rational principle by which they are governed). 134. Whose . . . flowers “Formae vero nitor ut rapidus est, ut velox et vernalium florum mutabilitate fugacior” (But how fleeting is the splendor of its beauty, how swiftly passing and more transient than the mutability of vernal flowers). 135. Aristotle . . . of Aristotle Boethius cites fragment B105D of Aristotle’s now-lost Protrepticus. lynx’s eyes “Lynceis oculis” (the eyes of Lynceus—an Argonaut whose sharp sight became proverbial), misconstrued by Elizabeth as “lyncis” (of a lynx). that . . . of “illud Alcibiadis superficie pulcherrimum corpus” (that outwardly most beautiful body of Alcibiades). Alcibiades was reputed to be the most beautiful youth in fifth-century B.C.E. Athens. A dictation error may be involved in Elizabeth’s translation; “spake of ” has no counterpart in the Latin. Elizabeth may, however, have intended an allusion to Alcibiades’ speech in Plato’s Symposium contrasting Alcibiades’ own external, physical beauty and inner ugliness with the superficial ugliness and inner beauty of Socrates (215A–218E).

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seeme fayre; nor Not thy Nature Esteeme hoW Much you Will of bodyes goodes When this you knoWe, Whatso you Wonder a fyre of a Tercian may dissolue. of Which all, this in somme you May gather, that these which neyther can performe that they promise be good, nor When they are alltogither can be perfecte. Such These Nether can add or strength to bLiss, nor make them bLest that haue them. [8. Myter] O in how begiling pathe men Ignorance Leades? Seake not the GoLde in griny tre nor Louke for precious stone on Grape hide not on hily tops your giues baites Your dische With fische to fiL And Gotes if thou Wylt take The Tyrrhene Sea not Serche for the hid in the Waues man knoes the Waters streame And what fiersist Riuer be haue whittist Pearle19 Or wher the Reddys rubies And shores also fild most With smaLList fische Ofr haue most porpos20 skaLes but hiden, for they knoWe not The Good the Seake

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19. And . . . Pearle Elizabeth fails to maintain alternating indentation of lines in turning the leaf at fol. 41r–v. 20. porpos porpoise. 136. how . . . tertian how . . . will “quam vultis nimio” (as excessively as you wish). fire . . . tertian In so-called tertian fever, high fever occurs every third day; “triduanae febris igniculo” (by the burning of a three-days’ fever). 137. that . . . good that which they promise to be good; “quae pollicentur bona” (the goods that they promise). 138. nor . . . bliss nor . . . perfect “nec omnium bonorum congregatione perfecta sunt” (nor are perfect by the assemblage of all goods). neither . . . bliss Like most editions, Pulmann’s reads “nec ad beatitudinem quasi quidam calles ferunt” (neither lead to happiness like so many roads). Elizabeth perhaps mistook “calles” (roads) for a form of “callus” construed in its figurative sense of ‘hardness,’ hence “strength.” 139. in . . . path Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann reads “tramite devio” (on an erroneous path). 140. Men “miseros” (wretched men).

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goods, when this you know: whatso you wonder, a fire of a tertian136 may dissolve. Of which all, this, in sum, you may gather: That these which neither can perform that they promise be good,137 nor when they are altogether can be perfect, these neither can add strength to bliss,138 nor make them blest that have them.”

Meter 8 O, in how beguiling path,139 Men140 ignorance leads. Seek141 not the gold in greeny tree, Nor look for precious stone on grape;142 Hide not on hilly tops your baits, Your dish with fish to fill; And goats if thou wilt take, The Tyrrhene sea not search. For, hid in the waves, man knows the water’s stream,143 And what fiercest river have whitest pearl, Or where the reddest rubies;144 And shores also, filled most with smallest fish, Or have most porpoise scales.145 But hidden, for they know not The good they seek,146

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141. Seek The first of a series of hortatory verbs—including “look,” “Hide,” and “search” (lines 4, 5, 8)—which Elizabeth substitutes for present indicatives: “quaeritis . . . carpitis . . . abditis . . . captatis” (you do [not] seek . . . gather . . . hide . . . hunt). 142. on grape “vitis” (on the grapevine). 143. For . . . stream Elizabeth conflates two lines of Boethius into one at the bottom of a manuscript page, where she has run out of space. She does the same in her French stanzaic verses ca. 1590; see ACFLO, 88. stream “recessus” (recessed places). 144. fiercest . . . rubies fiercest “feracior” (more fruitful), evidently mistaken by Elizabeth for “ferocior” (fiercer). reddest rubies “rubentis purpurae” (of red murex), shellfish from which luxurious purple dye is extracted. rubies Probably suggested by the phonic and etymological association with “ruber” (red), cognate with Boethius’s “rubentis.” 145. with . . . scales with smallest “tenero” (with tender). porpoise scales Elizabeth’s conjecture responds to the meaningless misprint in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, “asperis . . . echnicis,” corrected in 1580 to “asperis . . . echinis” (with prickly shellfish). 146. But . . . seek But the good they seek is hidden, because they do not know (what it is). Elizabeth expands into two lines Boethius’s “Sed quonam lateat quod cupiunt bonum” (But [they do not know] where the good that they seek is hidden). Perhaps mistak-

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blinded Ignorant must the bide To to Cerche byonde the Northen Pole DroWned in the erthe the rake What hest shaL I for dullardz make Euen this that Whan With Carke the falz haue got Truist than shal knoWe the best /

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[9. Prose] hitherto hit sufficeth to shewe the forme of gilefuL forme felicitie wiche if you CLirely beholde the ordar than must be to shewe you the true. Yea I se quoth I that ynough suffiseth not riches nor Power Kingdomes nor honor for dignitiesnor gLory he ha the prising nor Joy the pleasure: hast thou Gathered the cause of this? be methinkes I see hit as by a rife sLendarly, but do desire plainliar of the to knoWe hit. Ready is the reason Whan that Wiche Vnmixt and by nature Vnparted is, that human error partz, and from the true and right to falz and Wanting brings21 Dost thou suppose that Nothing he Wantes that poWre needes. I think not so. Truly thou hast sayde, for if ought be that is of Weakist Worth, must Needly neede som others help. So

ing “quonam” (where) for “quoniam” (because), Elizabeth gives Boethius a Biblical resonance: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). 21. hitherto . . . brings The opening lines of prose 9 are in Elizabeth’s hand. rife A variant spelling of “riff,” itself a variant of “rift.” 147. To . . . rake “Et quod stelliferum trans abiit polum / Tellure demersi petunt” (And what has pierced beyond the starry Pole / Sunk in the earth they seek). rake scrape; perhaps also ‘stray.’ 148. What . . . make? “Quid dignum stolidis mentibus inprecer?” (What curse can I hurl, worthy of such stupid minds?). Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following line, “Opes honores ambiant” (Let them strive for riches and honors). Instead, in keeping with her echo of Luke 23, she construes “imprecor” in the sense of ‘pray for,’ replacing Boethius’s curse with a charitable behest. hest behest, injunction. 149. cark . . . best cark great labor. Truest . . . best “Tum vera cognoscant bona” (Let them recognize true goods), construed by Elizabeth as “Let them recognize that true things are the good.” 150. ‘enough’ . . . pleasure “nec opibus sufficientiam nec regnis potentiam nec reverentiam dignitatibus nec celebritatem gloria nec laetitiam voluptatibus posse contin-

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Blinded, ignorant must they bide: To search beyond the Northern Pole, Drowned in the earth, they rake.147 What hest shall I for dullards make?148 Ev’n this: That when with cark they false have got, Truest, then, shall know the best.149

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Prose 9 “Hitherto it sufficeth to show the form of guileful felicity, which, if you clearly behold, the order then must be to show you the true.” “Yea, I see,” quoth I, “that ‘enough’ sufficeth not riches, nor power kingdoms, nor honor dignities, nor glory the prizing, nor joy the pleasure.”150 “Hast thou gathered the cause of this?” “Methinks I see it as by a rift,151 slenderly, but do desire plainlier of thee to know it.” “Ready is the reason: when that which unmixed and by nature unparted is, that human error parts, and from the true and right to false and wanting brings. Dost thou suppose that nothing he wants, that power needs?”152 “I think not so.” “Truly thou hast said, for if aught be that is of weakest worth, must needly153 need some other’s help.”

gere” (nor can sufficiency befall through riches, power through kingdoms, honor through public offices, fame through glory, or joy through pleasures). Elizabeth, who intermittently inverts Boethius’s word order, is probably to be construed as saying that riches are not enough for self-sufficiency, kingdoms for power, etc. ‘enough’ “sufficientiam” (sufficiency). dignities “dignitatibus”—primarily, public offices. prizing high esteeming; “celebritatem” (fame). 151. rift crack, chink. 152. that nothing . . . needs? that he lacks nothing that lacks power? “quod nihilo indigeat egere potentia?” (that that which lacks nothing lacks power?). Elizabeth reverses the logical relationship Boethius asserts between lacking nothing and lacking power. She may be applying to human beings what Boethius applies more generally, but her “he” may have its early modern sense of ‘it.’ 153. of . . . needly of . . . worth “inbecillioris valentiae” (of too weak strength). Elizabeth construes “valentiae” in terms of its root “valere” (to be worth [so much]). needly necessarily.

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it is said I. Therfor the one and self same is Nature of sufficiency and poWre. So it seemes. but that ther is such one thing, dost thou think it to be despised or Wourthy all all regarde? This is Not to be doubted. Let Vs ad to this sufficiency, powre, reuerence that these three We May Judge one, Let it be yf for trouth We Wyll confesse, dost thou think that this Any obscure Matter or ignoble, or of More shoW than Any other dignitie? but Consider let lest it be graunted that that Needes Not, is Most of powre and Worthyest Most honour yet Wanting estimation, Which to it self it can not giue, And therfore May seeme in som parte to be lesse Wourth. We can not but graunte that this is Worth Tru of price most reuerenced. Then it followes that We confesse a shoW of glory doth nothing differ from the other three. Yt followes quoth I, Tham that that22 Needes None other, that doth all of his own strength, that is Beautifulst and Most Reuerenced, Is it Not playne, that so is most pleasing to? I can not imagine hoW to such A man Any sorow can happen Wherfore necessarily it Must be confest, ther is that he is full of Joye, if the forenamed remayne. And by all this, it Needfully folloWs, that theffecte of sufficiency, poWre, honour, Reuerence, plesure, be diuers Names, in substance nothing

22. Tham . . . that Tham Windebank’s penslip for “Than” (then); “igitur.” that that Windebank’s inadvertent repetition. 154. But . . . thing But that which there is [of] such a thing (as this); “Quod vero huiusmodi sit” (that what, moreover, is of this kind). 155. this the latter (i.e., being worthy of all regard); “hoc.” The literal rendering produces unclarity because “this” in English means ‘the latter’ only when it is contrasted with “that.” 156. Let . . . reverence “Addamus igitur sufficientiae potentiaeque reverentiam” (Let us therefore add reverence to sufficiency and power). 157. will confess wish to confess; “volumus confiteri” (we wish to acknowledge). 158. lest . . . estimation lest . . . not “ne quod nihilo indigere . . . concessum est” (whether that which, it is conceded, lacks nothing). Translating “ne” as “lest” rather than as the more contextually appropriate “whether,” Elizabeth treats “concessum est” as if it were

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“So it is,” said I. “Therefore, the one and selfsame is nature of sufficiency and power.” “So it seems.” “But that there is such thing,154 dost thou think it to be despised, or worthy all regard?” “This155 is not to be doubted.” “Let us add to this sufficiency, power, reverence,156 that these three we may judge one.” “Let it be, for truth we will confess.”157 “Dost thou think this any obscure matter or ignoble, or of more show than any other dignity? But consider, lest it be granted that that needs not, is most of power, and worthiest most honor, yet wanting estimation,158 which to itself it cannot give, and therefore may seem in some part to be less worth.” “We cannot but grant that this is most reverenced.”159 “Then it follows, that we confess a show of glory160 doth nothing differ from the other three.” “It follows,” quoth I. “Then that needs none other, that doth all of his own strength, that is beautifullest and most reverenced161—is it not plain, that so is most pleasing, too?” “I cannot imagine, how to such a man162 any sorrow can happen, wherefore necessarily it must be confessed that he is full of joy, if the forenamed remain.” “And by all this it needfully follows, that th’effect of sufficiency, power, honor, reverence, pleasure, be divers names; in substance,

a subjunctive clause (“concessum sit”) with “ne” rather than a parenthetical clause. estimation high esteem; “claritudinem” (fame). 159. We . . . reverenced Elizabeth elides the awkward shift from first person plural to first person singular unique to Pulmann’s edition: “Non possumus . . . quin hoc uti est ita etiam celeberrimum esse confitear” (We cannot but that I confess that this, being what it is, is also most famous). All other editions consulted read “non possum,” yielding ‘I cannot but confess.’ 160. a . . . glory “claritudinem” (fame). 161. beautifullest . . . reverenced “clarum atque reverendum” (famous and worthy of respect). “Clarum” has a root meaning of ‘bright, radiant,’ which presumably inspired Elizabeth’s rendering “beautifullest.” “Beautifullest” obscures, however, the relevant meaning of the adjective here and its association with its cognate noun “claritudo” (fame). 162. to . . . man “huic . . . tali” (to it, being as it is). Elizabeth turns a statement about an abstract goodness into a statement about humanity.

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differs. That that is then one and symple by nature, humayne synne dispersith; And in seeking to obtayne such thing as Wantith partes, Myndith the same to gett, And so neither gettes that portion that is none, nor that Partie that desyres none. hoW May this be so quoth I, he that seekith riches by shunning penury, nothing carith for poWre, he chosith rather to be Meane and base, and withdrawes him from Many Wnaturall delytes, Lest he Lose the Monny that he gat. but this Waye, he hath not ynough, Who leves to haue, and grieues in Woe, W whom Neerenes ouerthroWes and obscurenes hydes. He that desyres alone only desyres to haue be able, he throWes away Riches, despisith plesures, Nought esteems honour wanting nor glory that powre Wantith. but hoW Many thinges these Men lackes, thou seest. Somtyme he lackes that necessary is, so as his Want doth byte him, and Whan he can Not throWe of this, that that Most he sought, hability he Wantes. Thus may We reason of honour glory and pLeasure, for if all these thinges Weare ioynd togither, Whosoeuer desyreth to Joyne thos With the rest, yf our any one were had Without the rest he can Not gett that he Wantes requires. What then quoth I, yf Any Man all this can gett, shall he haue the greatest felicitie. shall he fynde her in these that We haue shewed you, promise more than they giue. Not so quoth I, In such thinges as ech Man desyres to excell in, the true blesse is Neuer to be found, I confesse it quoth I, Than this Nothing can be truer. Thou hast quoth she, heere a forme of false felicitie and

163. th’ effect . . . differs th’ effect of the outward manifestation of. Elizabeth’s addition. differs Here Elizabeth omits Boethius’s assent to what Lady Philosophy has said. 164. mindeth . . . none (one) intends to get parts, and so gets neither the part (he seeks), which does not exist, nor the part that he does not desire; “nec portionem quae nulla est nec ipsam quam minime affectat assequitur” (he neither gets a part, for there is no part, nor the whole, which he does not seek in the least). Elizabeth misses the degree of the irony by interpreting “ipsam” as another part rather than the whole. the same what has been previously indicated (i.e., the parts). party part. 165. who . . . nearness who . . . have who ceases to possess anything; misconstrual of “quem valentia deserit” (whom power deserts). nearness niggardliness, rendering “vilitas” (cheapness, baseness). Elizabeth’s association of “vilitas” as “cheapness”—the first definition of “vilitas” in Thomas Thomas’s dictionary—with niggardliness was perhaps suggested to her by the early modern idiom “niggard cheap.” 166. to . . . able “posse,” whose general sense is ‘to be able’ but in this context means ‘to have power.’ Since “able” in the sixteenth century could mean ‘strong, powerful,’ Elizabeth’s

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nothing differs.163 That that is, then, one and simple by nature, human sin disperseth, and, in seeking to obtain such thing as wanteth parts, mindeth the same to get: and so neither gets that portion that is none, nor that party, that desires none.”164 “How may this be so?” quoth I. “He that seeketh riches by shunning penury, nothing careth for power. He chooseth, rather, to be mean and base and withdraws him from many natural delights, lest he lose the money that he got. But this way he hath not enough, who leaves to have, and grieves in woe, whom nearness165 overthrows and obscureness hides. He that only desires to be able,166 he throws away riches, despiseth pleasures, naught esteems honor nor glory that power wanteth. But how many things these men lacks, thou seest. Sometime he lacks that necessary is, so as his want doth bite him; and when he cannot throw off this, that that most he sought—ability—he wants.167 Thus may we reason of honor, glory, and pleasure. For if all these things were joined together, if any one were had without the rest, he cannot get that he requires.”168 “What then?” quoth I, “if any man all this can get, shall he have169 the greatest felicity?” “Shall he find her in these that we have showed you promise more than they give?” “Not so,” quoth I. “In such things as each man desires to excel in,170 the true bliss is never to be found.” “I confess it,” quoth I. “Than this, nothing can be truer.”

rendering aptly conveys both the general sense of Boethius’s verb “posse” (to be able) and its specific sense here of ‘to have power.’ 167. that . . . wants “etiam id quod maxime petebat potens esse desistat” (he loses even that which he most sought, being powerful). 168. if all . . . requires if all . . . together Misconstrual of “cum unumquodque horum idem quod cetera sit” (since each one of these is the same as the rest). if . . . rest “quisquis horum aliquid sine ceteris petit” (whoever seeks any one of these without the others). requires seeks for; “desiderat.” 169. can . . . have can get “cupiat adipsci” (should desire to get). shall . . . have “velit” (would he be wishing [to have]). Elizabeth eliminates Boethius’s emphasis on desire. 170. In . . . in “In his igitur quae singula quaedam expetendorum praestare creduntur” (In these things, which are believed to provide certain single things of the [whole group of] things to be sought). Elizabeth misconstrues neuter plural “singula quaedam” as “each man” and takes “praestare” in its sense of ‘excel’ rather than ‘provide.’ She then fits the rest of the passage to this sense.

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the cause. Turn thy selfe Now to the contrary syde of the Mynde, for ther shaL thou see strait Way the true that I promysd. This euin to a blinde man is playne, quoth I, And so to a litle afore thou shoWedst, In opening the faulssd faulse cause. for els I Am deceaued, that is the true and parfet felicitie, that Makith Man content, Mighty, reuerenced, homnord and pleasant. And that thou Mayst know, I haue inWardly Lookt Which of all these might trulyest all exceede, This I confesse to be true bliss that is Without a doubt, O scholler Myne, happy art thou for this opinion, Yf thou Wilt ad one thing Withall. Whats that quoth I, dost thou think that any able ought in mortall and fleeting thinges, can Make such a state? No quoth I, That thou hast shoWde sufficiently, as Nothing more doth neede. for these thinges As pictures of true good, seeme to giue som imperfet good to Mortall men; but the true and perfet, bring they can not. Because thou Knowest noW, What be the true good, and What belyeth the true blisse, now it followith, that thou Mayst KnoWe Whence thou mayst asK the true. That is hit quoth I, I haue Long Lookt for. but as PLato in his Timee Wills, that we should ask for diuine help in Meanest Maters, What now thinkest thou to be don, Wherby We may merite to fynde the seate of greatest good. We Must call quoth I, to the father of all, Who leaVing out, No good foundacion is neuer Layde. Ryghtly said she And thus began to sing.

171. Turn . . . mind “Deflecte nunc in adversum mentis intuitum” (Now turn your mind’s view to the opposite side). 172. pleasant merry, gay. 173. I . . . exceed I . . . looked “me interius animadvertisse” (I have perceived inwardly). which . . . exceed “quae unum horum . . . veraciter praestare potest” (that which can truly provide one of these—the five components of happiness). Ellizabeth treats “unum horum” as the subject rather than the object and again construes “praestare” as ‘excel’ rather than ‘provide.’ She does not translate Boethius’s subsequent parenthetical claim, “quoniam idem cuncta sunt” (since they are all the same).

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“Thou hast,” quoth she, “here a form of false felicity, and the cause. Turn thyself now to the contrary side of the mind,171 for there thou shalt see straightway the true that I promised.” “This, even to a blind man, is plain,” quoth I, “and too, a little afore thou showedst, in opening the false cause. For, else I am deceived, that is the true and perfect felicity, that maketh man content, mighty, reverenced, honored, and pleasant.172 And, that thou mayst know I have inwardly looked, which of all these might truliest all exceed,173 this I confess to be true bliss, that is without a doubt.” “O scholar mine, happy art thou for this opinion, if thou wilt add one thing withal.” “What’s that?” quoth I. “Dost thou think that aught in mortal and fleeting things can make such a state?” “No,” quoth I, “That thou hast showed sufficiently, as nothing more doth need.” “For these things, as pictures of true good, seem to give some imperfect good to mortal men; but the true and perfect, bring they cannot.174 Because thou knowest now, what be the true good, and what belieth the true bliss, now it followeth, that thou mayst know whence thou mayst ask175 the true.” “That is it,” quoth I, “I have long looked for.” “But as Plato in his Timee wills,176 that we should ask for divine help in meanest matters, what now, thinkest thou, to be done, whereby we may merit to find the seat of greatest good?” “We must call,” quoth I,” to the Father of all, who, leaving out, no good foundation is never laid.”177 “Rightly,” said she, and thus began to sing:

174. as . . . cannot as . . . imperfect good “vel imagines veri boni vel inperfecta quaedam bona” (either images of the true good or certain imperfect goods). cannot Elizabeth omits Boethius’s immediately following agreeement with Philosophy’s assertion. 175. belieth . . . ask belieth misrepresents; “mentiantur” (counterfeit). ask seek; noted in the OED as a literal translation of “petere,” the verb here. 176. Plato . . . wills Timaeus 27C. 177. no . . . laid “nullum rite fundatur exordium” (no beginning of a speech is properly established). Boethius’s rhetorical term “exordium” signals the beginning of the “positive” half of the Consolatio. Elizabeth’s noun, “foundation,” pairs with Boethius’s cognate verb, “fundatur” (is established, is founded).

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9. M[yter] O thou in Lasting sort the World that rulest Of erthe and heauen the framar Who time from first Ons hies bidst go and stabLe stedy aL elz dost While23 Whom oWtWard Causis forst not to forme The Worke of sLiding substance, but shape of Greatist good that enVy Wantz, thou aL by hiest sample gides, the fairest thou The goodList World, that mindst, and of Like mold hit made bidding the perfaictz the Complete partz performe In number thou Elementz ties as Cold to flame ryming24 Cold to melting flames be ioinged Lest purest fire faile Or Waights to droWned Land befalL Thou binding the Soules spirite that moues aL that Concernes the triple nature and dost deuide them into agrying limmes Who Cut in tw Circles tWo the motion GLimmars And brething to her selfe retournes The dipe mind bisetz and in Like forme alike heauin rules

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23. While wheel (verb)—Elizabeth’s characteristic spelling with i to render ee. 24. ryming riming, frosty (adjective from “rime”—hoar-frost). 178. Meter 9 Boethius’s Latin lyric adopts the dactylic hexameter and the rhetorical structure of the classical hymn. Its cosmological vision is largely based in Plato’s Timaeus 27C–42D and the commentary on the Timaeus by the Neoplatonic philosopher Proclus (ca. 410–87 C.E.). 179. Framer founder; “sator” (sower, father). 180. stable-steady “stabilisque manens” (remaining still). Boethius evokes the “unmoved mover” of Timaeus 42E and Aristotle’s Metaphysics 1072A. 181. of sliding of flowing; “fluitantis.” 182. but . . . wants “verum insita summi / Forma boni livore carens” (but the form of highest good planted within yourself, devoid of envy). 183. By . . . guides By . . . sample By means of the highest object for imitation; “superno . . . ab exemplo” (from a heavenly model). guides You lead / command, rendering “Ducis,” which can mean ‘you lead’ but in this context is closer to ‘you draw out’ or ‘you fashion.’ 184. The . . . made Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads “Mundum mente gerens similique imagine formans” (Bearing a fair world in your mind and forming it in the same likeness), corrected to “in imagine” in 1580. that that thou. mind’st have in view; contemplate, intend. 185. Bidding . . . perform Bidding the most perfect (world) to complete / perfect its perfect parts—or, alternatively: Bidding its perfect parts to complete / perfect the most perfect

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Meter 9 178 O Thou, in lasting sort, the world that rul’st, Of earth and heav’n the Framer!179 Who time, from first, Bidd’st go, and, stable-steady,180 all else dost wheel; Whom outward causes forcèd not to form The work of sliding181 substance, but shape Of greatest good, that envy wants.182 Thou all By highest sample guides:183 the fairest, Thou The goodliest world, that mind’st, and of like mold it made,184 Bidding the perfect’st the complete parts perform.185 In number Thou elements ties, as riming cold To melting flames be joined: lest purest fire fail, Or weights to drownèd land befall.186 Thou, binding the soul’s spirit that moves All that concerns the triple nature, And dost divide them into agreeing limbs187 Who, cut in circles two, the motion glimmers, And breathing, to herself returns, The deep mind besets, and a like heav’n rules.188

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(world). Elizabeth’s line captures the ambiguity of subject and object, itself a reflection of the Neoplatonic dialectic between parts and whole, dividing and uniting, in “Perfectasque iubens perfectum absolvere partes.” 186. In . . . befall In number “numeris” (with numbers, the harmonic elements of Platonic cosmology). riming frosty; Elizabeth’s addition. melting Elizabeth’s addition. lest . . . befall “ne purior ignis / Evolet aut mersas deducant pondere terras” (Lest the purer fire / Fly off, or lest its weight pull down the submerged earth). Boethius describes the binding of the four traditional cosmic elements, of which fire was considered the lightest and purest. fail go astray, be wanting, disappoint—in all these senses loosely rendering “evolet” (fly off ). Fire, by improperly ascending, would fail to join the “lower” element of earth. befall fall. 187. Thou . . . limbs Thou . . . nature Boethius addresses God: “Tu triplicis mediam naturae cuncta moventem / Conectens animam” (You, binding the soul moving in the middle of all its threefold nature). God created the world-soul’s threefold nature by uniting the Same and the Other into Being (Timaeus 35A). Elizabeth does not translate “mediam,” the soul’s ‘middle.’ soul’s spirit She highlights both senses of “anima”: soul and breath of life (spirit). concerns sifts, separates, describing the process of cosmic division. “Concerns” is used again in this early modern sense in line 19. them Boethius describes the soul (“animam”) as the object of God’s division into harmonious parts; Elizabeth treats “them” (the threefold nature) as the object of God’s division. 188. Who . . . rules Who . . . returns “Quae cum secta duos motum glomeravit in orbes / In semet reditura meat” (Who—the soul—when it, thus divided, has gathered its

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Thou with Like Cause the Soules Consernes And Liues that meanar be to sWiftist Cours wains Thou fitting hiest Spirites In heauen and erthe dost soWe Whom by with a gentiL Law to the retourned thou makest be broght to fire from Whence it Came Graunt that the mynd O father Clime to thy hiest Seat And On thy VeW the clirest Sigh25 may Set, Away Cast erthely Cloude and Waight of this mold do thou With Lustar then Grace endu them Grace Thou art the Cleare and quiet rest for best folke The to admire is first Last, helpe, Gide Pathe and stedy Last

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10. Pr[ose] for that noW thou hast seene the forme of imperfett and true good, Now I think to shew the by What the perfection of this felicitie is made. In Which first this I think to be inquyrd of, Whither Any such good ther be, As thou hast defynd a lyttle afore, among Natures Woorkes, Leste a Vayne imagination of thought deceaue Vs from Wyde from the truthe, of that We take talke of. And to proue it so, It can not be denyed, that this is the fountayne of all good thinges. for all that

motion into two circles, / Moves to return into itself). glimmers flashes, shines brightly. Elizabeth may have chosen this verb for its sound similarity to “glomeravit” (have gathered, rolled into a ball), the meaning of which possibly eluded her. breathing Elizabeth’s addition, consonant with her “soul’s spirit” (line 13). besets surrounds; “circuit.” a like . . . rules rules a heaven like itself; “simili convertit imagine caelum” (it [the soul] turns the heaven into a likeness of itself). The soul’s circular movement around the “mind” (the Neoplatonic Godhead) causes heaven to imitate its perfect motion. 25. Sigh sight. 189. Thou, with . . . spirits Thou, with . . . be “Tu causis animas paribus vitasque minores / Provehis” (You by like causes bring forward souls and lesser lives). concerns Elizabeth’s addition of this verb emphasizes again the process of cosmic separation, here that between higher, human souls and lower life-forms. to . . . wains “levibus . . . curribus” (to light / nimble chariots). “Levibus” evokes both the celestial circuit of the chariots and, as Elizabeth’s rendering highlights, their speed. highest spirits “animas . . . sublimes” (souls . . . borne aloft). Boethius is referring to the souls of virtuous human beings: each assigned to a star as though to a chariot, and each bound for return to the heavens after living a virtuous life in the body (Plato Timaeus 41D–42D).

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Thou, with like cause, the souls concerns And lives that meaner be; to swiftest wains 20 Thou, fitting highest spirits,189 In heav’n and earth dost sow, Whom, with a gentle law to Thee returned, Thou mak’st be brought to fire, from whence it came.190 Grant that the mind, O Father, climb to Thy highest seat;191 25 And, on Thy view, the clearest sight may set. Away cast earthly cloud and weight of this mold; Do Thou with luster, then, them grace: Thou art the clear and quiet rest for best folk, Thee to admire is—first, last—help, guide, path, and steady last.192 30

Prose 10 “For that now thou hast seen the form of imperfect and true good, now I think to show thee by what193 the perfection of this felicity is made. In which, first this I think to be inquired of, whether any such good there be, as thou hast defined a little afore, among Nature’s works, lest a vain imagination of thought deceive us wide from the truth of that we talk of. And, to prove it so, it cannot be denied that this is194 the fountain of all good things. For, all that we call imperfect, 190. Thou . . . came “Reduci facis igne reverti” (You cause to return with returning fire). 191. Grant . . . seat Elizabeth does not translate Boethius’s next line, which reads “Da fontem lustrare boni, da luce reperta” (Grant to wander near the font of good, grant light), because Pulmann’s 1562 edition mistakenly omits it. Grant . . . O Father The formal prayer with which the poem ends is most often construed as the speaker’s entreaty that he may ascend to the heavenly Father, and his praise of God as the guide of the virtuous. The prayer contains no explicit first-person singular locutions, however, and Elizabeth renders it as an utterance on behalf of human souls generally. 192. Do . . . last with . . . grace Elizabeth’s “grace” adds a Christianizing touch; Boethius reads “tuo splendore mica” (shine forth in your splendor). admire view with wonder, marvel at; “cernere” (perceive). steady last immovable end; “terminus.” Elizabeth’s adjectival addition recalls her opening description of Boethius’s unmoving God as “stable-steady” (line 4). 193. by what “quonam” (where), construed by Elizabeth as “quonam modo” (in what way). 194. And . . . is And . . . so Elizabeth’s addition. that . . . is “quin exsistat sitque hoc veluti quidam” (that this thing exists and is like a sort of).

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We call imperfett, all is shewed such by the definition of perfection. So haps it, that if in any thing ther be imperfection, In the self same, somthing must Needes be that can Not be perfett. for the perfection taken away, we can Not ymagyne What that is that is imperfect. for Nature tooke not her begynning of thinges unwere diminished and Worne, but of the hole and absolute, and so cam doWne into thes barren and Vttermost partes. And if as a little before I told you, there be in an imp imperfecte f som imperfect felicitie of a frayle good, It can not be doubted but that ther is a solide and parfet one. This is sure, and truly concluded: but Wher this dwellith quoth she, In this Wise consider. The common conceite of mens Myndes alloWes, that God is of of all thinges the Ruler, is the good hit self. for When Nothing can be imagined better than himself, Who can doute that that is the best, Whom Nothing can better. For so doth reason shew that god is good, that is Won to confesse he is the perfect good. for without such he Were, the Prince of all thinges he could Not be. for so much the rather doth he possess perfection that he Was the first and aboue all. for the perfetest dow doo shoW them sellves first afore the Lesser sorte. And Lest our reason should Neuer have end, We must confesse that the great God is indued with the Wholle and perfett good, And We doo saye that true blisse consistes in perfection. We t Must then conclude, that true felicitie is in the greatest god. I take it so quoth I; Nether can Any thing gayne say it. but I pray the quoth she, Lo Looke how proouest thou that most holyly and Without spot, that We say God is the full perfection of greatest good? How shall I prooue this, said I? Presume not to think that the father of all thing haue taken this great good with Which he is fulfilld eyther of outWard cause or Naturall, as thoug in so ymagining a diuers substance of him that hath the obtaynid felicitie.

195. by . . . definition by the limitation; “imminutione” (by the dimunition). 196. if . . . imperfection “si in quolibet genere inperfectum quid esse videatur” (if any thing seems to be imperfect in any kind). 197. worn “inconsummatis” (imperfect, unfinished). 198. is won . . . confess (reason) is forced to acknowledge; “convincat” (it proves). 199. for so much . . . all “Erit enim eo praestantius aliquid perfectum possidens bonum, quod hoc prius atque antiquius esse videatur” (For there would be something possessing perfect good more excellent than He, which would seem in this to be prior and more ancient). Boethius’s counterfactual lays out the implications of an existing being

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is showed such by the definition195 of perfection. So haps it, that if in anything there be imperfection,196 in the selfsame, something must needs be that can be perfect. For, perfection taken away, we cannot imagine what that is, that is imperfect. For Nature took not her beginning of things diminished and worn,197 but of whole and absolute, and so came down into these barren and uttermost parts. And if, as a little before I told you, there be imperfect felicity of a frail good, it cannot be doubted but that there is a solid and perfect one.” “This is sure, and truly concluded.” “But where this dwelleth,” quoth she, “in this wise, consider. The common conceit of men’s minds allows that God, of all things the Ruler, is good itself. For, when nothing can be imagined better than Himself, who can doubt that that is the best, whom nothing can better? For so doth reason show that God is good, that is won to confess,198 He is the perfect good. For, without such He were, the Prince of all things He could not be: for so much the rather doth He possess perfection, that He was the first and above all.199 For the perfectest do show themselves first afore the lesser sort, and, lest our reason should never have end, we must confess that the great God is endued with the whole and perfect good. And we do say that true bliss consists in perfection. We must then conclude that true felicity is in the greatest God.” “I take it so,” quoth I; “neither can anything gainsay it.” “But, I pray thee,” quoth she, “look how provest thou that, most holily and without spot, that we say: God is the full perfection of greatest good.”200 “How shall I prove this?” said I. “Presume not to think that the Father of all thing have taken this great good, with which He is fulfilled, either of outward cause or natural, in imagining a divers substance of Him that hath the

more perfect than God. Elizabeth instead applies the perfection of this hypothetical other being to God. above all “antiquius” (more ancient). Elizabeth’s loose rendering anticipates the point of the next sentence, that what is prior is superior. 200. look . . . good “Vide quam id sancte atque inviolabiliter probes quod boni summi summum deum diximus esse plenissimum” (See how solemnly and inviolably you approve what we said of the most high God being filled full of the highest good). provest you approve.

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for if from outWard cause thou supposest thou he has taken, thou Mightest than think that better, than he that gaue. But Most Worthely We confess that he excellith all. Yf Nature haue done Any thing in him, and in a diuers sorte, When we speake of god the guyder of all thinges, Who can imagine to haue Joynd all these diuersities? Last of all, that that differs from Any thing, that cannot be the same that is Not hit. Wherfore that is contrary from the greatest good that can Not be hit selfe, Which were sacrilege to think of god, Whom nothing can exceede, for nothing in Nature can be better than her begynning. Wherfore that Was the first of all, in his own substance by aright argument I conclude the greatest good. Rightly quoth I. But it is graunted that the greatest good is bLesse. I thinke so So it is Therfore it needes Must be graunted that God is bLisse it selfe. Neither can the foresaid reasons fayle me, and by them I finde the consequence true. Thus Looke See quoth she, whither this be Not more truly prooued, for that twoo greatest goodes diuers in them selves can neuer be. Therfore goodes that differs, One can Not be that the other is, for none of them can be perfect, Whan in both there Lackes. Then that that is Not perfecte, is playne can Not be the greatest good by No Meanes therfore can they be greatest good that be dyuers. Wherfore we gather that bliss and God be the greatest good, Which makes that the greate Diuinity is the greatest bliss. Nothing quoth I can be concluded quoth I, with nor in it self More true, more stable nor by reaason more stable, Nor for god Wourthyer, nor In these causes as Geometricians be wont to doo, demonstrations

201. in imagining . . . felicity “quasi habentis dei habitaeque beatitudinis diversam cogites esse substantiam” (in such a way as you would think that the substance of the blessedness which is had, and of God who has it, were diverse). 202. thou mighst . . . gave Pulmann’s edition reads “praestantius id quod dederit eo quod acceperit existimare possis” (you could think it that gave was better than that which received). To preserve Boethius’s logic, Elizabeth’s final “gave” should be “took” or “received.” 203. If . . . diversities? If . . . sort Pulmann’s edition reads “si natura quidem inest, sed ratione diversum” (if it is in Him by nature, but in a different manner). who . . . diversi-

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obtained felicity.201 For if from outward cause thou supposest He has taken, thou mightest then think that better than He that gave.202 But most worthily we confess that He excelleth all. If Nature have done anything in Him, and in a divers sort, when we speak of God the Guider of all things, who can imagine, to have joined all these diversities?203 Last of all, that that differs from anything, that cannot be the same that is not it.204 Wherefore, that is contrary from the greatest good, that cannot be itself,205 which were sacrilege to think of God, whom nothing can exceed. For nothing in Nature can be better than her beginning. Wherefore, that was the first of all, in His own substance, by a right argument I conclude the greatest good.” “Rightly,” quoth I. “But it is granted that the greatest good is bliss.” “So it is,” quoth I. “Therefore, it needs must be granted that God is bliss itself.” “Neither can the foresaid reasons fail me; and by them I find the consequence true.” “See,” quoth she, “whether this be not more truly proved, for that two greatest goods, divers in themselves, can never be. Therefore, goods that differs, one cannot be that the other is; for none of them can be perfect, when in both there lacks.206 Then that that is not perfect, is plain, cannot be the greatest good. By no means, therefore, can they be the greatest good that be divers. Wherefore we gather that bliss and God be the greatest good, which makes that the great divinity is the greatest bliss.” “Nothing can be concluded,” quoth I, “nor in itself more true, nor by reason more stable, nor for God worthier.” “In these causes, as geometricians be wont to do: demonstrations

ties? “fingat qui potest: quis haec diversa coniunxerit” (let one who can imagine, who it was that joined these different things). 204. that cannot . . . it Condenses “id non est illud a quo intellegitur esse diversum” (it is not that from which it is understood to be different). same same as. 205. that . . . itself Elizabeth omits Boethius’s “sui natura” (of / in its own nature). itself the greatest good. 206. Therefore . . . lacks Therefore Since; “etenim.” in . . . lacks “alterutri alterum deest” (the one is lacking from the other).

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propounded, They bring in somthing Which they call πορ πορισματα. So Will I give the something as a breefe gathering. for since men be blissed by getting of felicitie, and blissfulnes felicitie is Diuinitie, It concludes, that by getting of Diuinity Men be bLessed. for as Just men be Made by getting Justice, and Wyse men by Wisdom, Som Men getting Diuinity by Lyke reason Are Made lykest to God. So euery blessed Man, is in a Kinde a God, one not but in Nature one, in participation, Many be May be. Most fayre and Precious is this Which you call your πορισμα or your Collection, And so Much is it the fayrer, that Naturall reason it self perswades you thus to ioyne them. Thus to conclude: What the of that, said I, When blissidnes conteynes many thinges in hit, Whither doo be all the partes of this gatherd in one, as by Varietie deuided, be conioyned, or is ther som thing els, that fullfills the fulnes of bliss, and to this all the rest is referd. I Wold thes thinges Were expLaned quoth I, thoro as by a Memoriall. dost thou Not think blisfulnes good. Yea, the greatest quoth I. This all will graunte, for it is the only sufficiency, the only poWre, reuerence, beauty, delyte. What tho? all these good thinges sufficiency, poWre, all be but lyms of blissidnes. be all thinges referd to good as to the Top? I Know quoth I What

207. causes . . . gathering causes cases, matters in dispute. πορίσματα, a Greek plural; the singular, πόρισμα, occurs a few lines below. In Euclidean geometry, a πόρισμα is a deduction or inference immediately drawn from some preceding demonstration, without further proof. While modern editions print the Latin transliteration of these terms, some late sixteenth-century editions, including Pulmann’s, print the Greek. gathering conclusion, inference, rendering “corollarium.” This late Latin synonym for Greek πόρισμα is the source of “corollary” in present-day English. 208. in a kind . . . be in a kind Elizabeth’s addition. Here, as elsewhere, Elizabeth tones down assertions by Boethius that man can become divine through virtue. but . . . be The implied subject is God, who is “one” by nature but becomes “many” through human “participation” in His divine nature. “Participatio,” which Elizabeth translates with the cognate “participation,” is Boethius’s Latin version of μέθεξις—the relationship of the Many to the One—which figures centrally in Neoplatonic cosmology. 209. collection deduction, inference; Latin “corollarium” and Greek πόρισμα. See n207.

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propounded, they bring in something which they call πορίσματα. So will I give thee something as a brief gathering.207 For since men be blessed by getting of felicity, and felicity is divinity, it concludes, that by getting of divinity men be blessed. For, as just men be made by getting justice, and wise men by wisdom, some men getting divinity, by like reason are made likest to God. So every blessed man is, in a kind, a god: but in nature, One; in participation, many may be.”208 “Most fair and precious is this, which you call your πόρισμα or your collection.”209 “And so much is it the fairer, that natural reason itself persuades you thus to join them.”210 “What of that?” said I. “When blessedness contains many things in it, whether be all the parts of this gathered in one as, by variety divided, conjoined;211 or is there something else that fulfills the fullness of bliss, and to this all the rest is referred?” “I would these things were explained,” quoth I, “as by a memorial.”212 “Dost thou not think blissfulness good?” “Yea, the greatest,” quoth I. “This all will grant, for it is the only sufficiency, the only power, reverence, beauty, delight.213 What though? All these good things, sufficiency, power214—all be but limbs of blessedness? Be all things referred to good, as to the top?” 210. And . . . them “Atqui hoc quoque pulchrius nihil est, quod his annectendum esse ratio persuadet” (But there is nothing fairer than what reason persuades us should be added to these). Boethius refers to a further point, one “fairer” than the conclusions preceding. 211. When . . . conjoined When since. contains “continere videatur” (seems to contain). conjoined Elizabeth’s passive construction follows the reading in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, “coniungantur”; all other editions consulted read “coniungant” (join). 212. by . . . memorial with a written list of points to aid recall; “commemoratione” (with a reminder). 213. This . . . delight This . . . grant “ ‘Addas,’ inquit, ‘hoc omnibus licet.’ ” (You may add, she said, this to all). only . . . only Elizabeth uses “only” twice in the sense of ‘preeminent, best’; “summa . . . summa” (highest . . . highest). beauty “claritas” (fame). Elizabeth’s misleading translation is presumably based on the word’s root sense of ‘brightness, splendor.’ See n18 above. 214. All . . . power All . . . things Elizabeth translates “omnia bona” (all good things), the reading in Pulmann and all other sixteenth-century editions consulted, but omits “ceteraque” (and other things) at the end of the phrase. Modern editions read “omnia, bonum,” treating “bonum” as first in the list of things that contribute to happiness.

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thou propoundest to seke, but What thou determynest, to heare I desyre. Take this division of this sorte: Yf all these were partes of blisse then should they differ in themsellves. for this is the nature of partes that deuided they make a hole body, and all these thinges We haue shewed to be one. Then they are not partes, or els bliss should seeme to be Made of one parte, Which can Not be. This doute I Not. but that that remaynes I attend. for to the greatest, all the rest of goodes Must needes be Referd. for therfore, sufficiency is desyrd, that good it is supposd, and poWre in like Manner. so may We gesse, of Reuerence honour and delyte. for the somme of all desyred thing is good, That neyther in hit self nor in his lyke retayns Any blisse, that no man ought desyre, And contrary those that by Nature be not good, if they seme to be, as true good be desyrd. So is it, the greatest good, by right ought be beleeuid, the groWnd Work26 and cause of all desyred. The cause for Which We Wish ought, that most We desyre, as yf for helthes sake to ryde We desyre, We seek not More the styrre of the exercise, than the good effecte of our helth. When then than all thinges be desyrd for greatest good, We desyre not those thinges More than good it self. And that We graunt that all thinges be desyrd to obtayne blisse, So We conclude she is only to be sought: Wherby it playnly appeeres that it is one only is the substance of that is good and blisfull. I see no cause Why Any Man should doute heerof, and God We have shoWed to be the only and alone good. So may We safely conclude that Godes substance is inclu in that good and None other concluded

10. M[yter]. AL you togither come that taken be Whome begiling Lust and With Wicked chanes hath bound

26. groWnd Work groundwork; “cardo” (chief, principal). 215. division distinction; “discretionem.” 216. sum Elizabeth does not translate “atque causa” (and cause). 217. in his . . . desire in . . . like in its appearance; “similitudine.” Philosophy is speaking of things that have the semblance of good, rather than the reality. any bliss “bonum” (the good). no . . . desire “id expeti nullo modo potest” (that cannot by any means be

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“I know,” quoth I, “what thou propoundest to seek. But what thou determinest, to hear I desire.” “Take this division215 of this sort. If all these were parts of bliss, then should they differ in themselves. For this is the nature of parts that, divided, they make a whole body; and all these things we have showed to be one. Then they are not parts, or else bliss should seem to be made of one part, which cannot be.” “This doubt I not. But that that remains, I attend.” “For, to the greatest all the rest of goods must needs be referred. For therefore sufficiency is desired, that good it is supposed; and power in like manner; so may we guess of reverence, honor, and delight. For the sum216 of all desired thing is good. That neither in itself nor in his like retains any bliss, that no man ought desire.217 And contrary, those that by nature be not good, if they seem to be, as true good be desired. So is it the greatest good, by right, ought be believed the groundwork and cause of all desired. The cause for which we wish aught, that most we desire: as if, for health’s sake, to ride we desire, we seek not more the stir of the exercise than218 the good effect of our health. When, then, all things be desired for greatest good, we desire not those things more than219 good itself. And that we grant: that all things be desired to obtain bliss. So, we conclude she is only to be sought: whereby it plainly appears that one only is the substance of that is good and blissful.” “I see no cause why any man should doubt hereof.” “And God we have showed to be the only and alone good.220 So may we safely conclude that God’s substance is in that good, and none other, concluded.”221 Meter 10 All you together come, that taken be, Whom beguiling lust with wicked chains hath bound, sought). Elizabeth turns a description of what is not desired into a prescription of what ought not to be desired. 218. not more . . . than “non tam . . . quam” (not so much . . . as). 219. not . . . more than “non . . . potius quam” (not . . . but rather). 220. good “beatitudinem” (happiness). Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following expression of agreement by Boethius the speaker. 221. concluded comprised, summed up; “sitam esse” (is located).

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dabeling27 the erthely myndz here rest of Labor shal you haue here Open Sanctuary for Wretchis alone Not al that Tagus With her golden sandz doth give Or Hermus With her glitering shore Or Indian dWelLing nire to hottische Circle That griny28 stone with Clirist doth mixe So Clires the Sight, nor more the blindid mindz Returnes into ther shades What of aL thes hathe pleased and delited that erthe hathe kept in darkist Caue The lustar that doth Gide the heauen and rule the Ruines darck of Soule forbidz This Light he Who Can decerne beauty suche in Φebus beames suche denies

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[11. Prose] I Graunt quoth I for eche thing with strongest reason Linked be is how muche Woldz thou prise hit if the tru good thou Couldst knoWe. At an how infinite rate for so shuld I obtaine to KC knowe What God Wer And this With truest reason I Wyl expres if if it be grauntid that afor Was sayd, be it so / 29 haue Not We showed that those thinges that be desyred of Many, therfore Are Not perfect and good because they differ Among themselves, so as Where Any Want ther is of one thing

27. dabeling dabbling. 28. griny greeny. 29. I Graunt . . . so / Prose 11 up to this point is in Elizabeth’s hand. 222. Dabbling soiling, bespattering. Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads “hebitans,” an evident error for “hebetans” (blunting, dulling), corrected in 1580. 223. have Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following line: “Hic portus placida manens quiete” (Here is a harbor of still, abiding calm). 224. sanctuary . . . alone the only sanctuary. 225. Not all . . . shades Pulmann’s edition reads “Non . . . / Inlustrant aciem magisque caecos / In suas condunt animos tenebras” (Nor . . . do they [jewels] clear the sight, but rather bury men’s blind souls in darkness). Tagus . . . Hermus Tagus, a river in Spain and Portugal, and Hermus, a river in Aeolis in Asia Minor, were sources of al-

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Dabbling222 the earthly minds; Here, rest of labor shall you have,223 Here, open sanctuary for wretches alone.224 Not all that Tagus with her golden sands Doth give, or Hermus with her glitt’ring shore, Or Indian, dwelling near to hottish circle, That greeny stone with clear’st doth mix, So clears the sight: nor more, the blinded minds Returns into their shades.225 What of all these hath pleasèd and delighted, That, earth hath kept in darkest cave; The luster that doth guide the heav’n, and rule, The ruins dark of soul forbids;226 This light, he who can discern, Beauty such227 in Phoebus’ beams denies.

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Prose 11 “I grant,” quoth I; “for each thing with strongest reason linked is.” “How much wouldst thou prize it, if the true good thou couldst know?” “At how infinite rate, for so should I obtain to know what God were.”228 “And this with truest reason I will express, if it be granted that afore was said.” “Be it so.” “Have we not showed, that those things that be desired of many, therefore are not perfect and good, because they differ among luvial gold. with . . . glitt’ring “rutilante” (with glowing red). Indian “Indus” (the Indus river). greeny . . . mix “Candidis miscens virides lapillos” (Mingling precious green stones—i.e., Indian emeralds—with bright white ones). clear’st most bright. nor more and more (an early modern usage); “magisque,” which can mean ‘and more,’ here has the sense ‘but rather.’ blinded . . . Returns i.e., [the jewels] return the blinded minds to their darkness. 226. The ruins . . . forbids “Vitat obscuras animae ruinas” (Shuns the dark ruins of the soul). forbids Elizabeth apparently confused “vitat” with “vetat” (forbids). 227. Beauty such “Candidos” (bright) can mean ‘beautiful,’ but in this context of light and dark imagery and in reference to the sun, refers primarily to brightness. 228. were Elizabeth does not translate Boethius’s reference to God as “qui bonum est” (who is the good).

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to an other, than can No playne nor resolute good com. but then is ther true good, When they are gathered in one forme and performance that What suffisith May haue poWre, reverence, honour, and delyte: for without all these be in one, A man hath nought that whyle ought to be esteemd. This is euident quoth I, and No Man neede to doubte therof, for those that When they disagree be Not good, When they are one, must Needes be so. But are Not all these thinges made good by getting of a true Vnity. Yes sure, said I, But all that is good, dost thou suppose it good thoroW the participating of that is so, Yes. Then needes it Must be, that that is alone and only good that is euer one. for alyke is euer the substance is the same of ech Man, Whose effectes naturally they haue. I can Not deny it. All that is so, Long Must Last and holde togither, As it is one, but Must needes perish and decay, Whan so it leaves to be. As in beastes We see, When they ingender, and be made of Lyfe and body, then it is A Creature, but When this Vnitie Makes a separation, then they are deuided, perish and decay. This body allso When hit remayns in one forme and Joyntes of Lyms, then humayn shape is seene. But if distract or partid in in twoo they be, then they leave their Vnitie Which made them be. In that sorte, all the rest shall be playne to the sercher, that euery thing shall Last While it is one, but When it leaves that order, it perishith. When I

229. plain . . . resolute plain full; “plenum.” resolute absolute, final; “absolutum.” 230. performance execution. Boethius reads “efficientiam” (efficacy, ability to act), his Latin equivalent of the Aristotelian philosophical term δύναμις. 231. a man . . . esteemed “nihil habere quo inter expetenda numerentur” (they—i.e., these supposed goods—have nothing for which they should be numbered among things to be sought). 232. participating . . . so participation in that which is good; “boni participatione.” 233. for . . . have “eadem namque substantia est eorum quorum naturaliter non est diversus effectus” (for the substance of those things is the same, whose effect, by nature, is not different). As at some earlier points, Elizabeth particularizes to human beings what Boethius says about beings in general.

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themselves: so as, where any want there is of one thing to another, then can no plain nor resolute229 good come? But then is there true good, when they are gathered in one form and performance,230 that what sufficeth may have power, reverence, honor, and delight: for, without all these be in one, a man hath naught that ought to be esteemed.”231 “This is evident,” quoth I, “and no man need to doubt thereof.” “For those that, when they disagree, be not good: when they are one, must needs be so. But are not all these things made good by getting of a true unity?” “Yes, sure,” said I. “But all that is good, dost thou suppose it good through the participating of that is so?”232 “Yes.” “Then needs it must be, that that is only good that is ever one, for the substance is the same of each man, whose effects naturally they have.”233 “I cannot deny it.” “All that is, so long must last and hold together, as it is one; but must needs perish and decay, when so it leaves to be.234 As in beasts we see, when they engender and be made of life and body,235 then it is a creature. But when this unity makes a separation, then they are divided, perish, and decay. This body, also, when it remains in one form and joints of limbs, then human shape is seen. But if distract236 or parted in two they be, then they leave their unity which made them be. In that sort, all the rest shall be plain to the searcher, that everything shall last while it is one; but when it leaves that order, it perisheth.”

234. All . . . be In Boethius, this a question posed by Lady Philosophy that begins, “Nostine igitur” (Do you then know that . . . ?). Elizabeth omits the immediately following request by Boethius the speaker for clarification: “Quonam modo?” (How so?). 235. beasts . . . body beasts living beings, animals (including human beings). “Beast” is a standard early modern rendering of Latin “animal”—the word here. when . . . body “cum in unum coeunt ac permanent anima corpusque” (when they become one and the soul and body remain united). engender copulate, breed. Elizabeth construes “coeunt” in its common sense of sexual intercourse; Boethius refers to the union of body and soul. 236. distract divided, separated.

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haue considered Many thinges, I find no other thing. Ys ther quoth I, Any thing that Naturally, Leaving desyre of lyfe, Wischith to com to ruine and an end end, In beastes themsellves that haue som kynde of Willing to fly or Not, I fynde not yf Men compell them Not, they Will not cast aWay their Mynde of Lasting and hyde hye them to the Way of destruction. for ech best I finde studys safety to Kepe, and shunnith death and decay. I can not tell What I May say of herbes of trees of Rootes. I May doute, And yet ther is No greate cause When We see the trees and herbes reViue agayn in their fittist place, that as much as Nature Will permitt they may not soone dry and dye Some in feldes, som on hills doo spring, others Marish beare, others stick to stone, som prosper on barren sand, Which if Any man pluck vp and carry to sett in other place, they Wither. So Nature giues to ech that him becomes becoms, and stryVes that While they May remayne, they May Not end What shall I say? that som We see of them, as hauing turnd their top to earth, draw Nourishment to the roote, and by their sap, spredes strength and BarK. What, yea that that is Most soft as Were the Mary, MarroW is euer hyd in innermost strength Rynde Without couerd by strength of som Wood, but the Vttermost rynde bark against the heauens Wether as sufferer of harme is set a defendour. NoW hoW greate is Natures diligence that all thinges be inlarged by Most seede, Which all, no man is ignorant Not only for a tyme of remayning perpetually stryues to remayn. Those thinges that only haue life, doo they not euer by a Naturall instinct desyre their oWn Why does lightnes draW Vp the fLame, and Waight, the earth 237. quoth I Boethius reads “inquit” (she said) here, assigning this initial question to Philosophy. In the next sentence he has an “inquam” (I said) to introduce the answer that Boethius the speaker gives. 238. of will . . . men of will . . . not “volendi nolendique” (of willing and not willing). Elizabeth appears to have initially misconstrued “volendi” as “volandi” (of flying); “to fly” is underlined for revision in the manuscript. She then registered the correct sense, ‘of willing.’ men one. Boethius’s “nullis extra cogentibus” (with nothing forcing them from outside) does not specify human agents. 239. I cannot tell . . . I may doubt The pleonastic doublet elaborates “prorsus dubito” (I am absolutely uncertain). roots “inanimatis omnino . . . rebus” (things altogether without life). Throughout this passage Elizabeth omits references to lifelessness, possibly indicating that she thought of everything in the world as, in some sense, alive. 240. What . . . bark? What . . . that This is Pulmann’s reading, “Quid dicam, quod.” as . . . bark? “velut in terras ore demerso trahunt alimenta radicibus ac per medullas robur corticemque diffundunt?” (as if, with their mouths buried in the ground, they draw nourishment through their roots and diffuse strength through their pith and bark?). Commentators and translators disagree on the precise sense of this passage, with which Elizabeth

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“When I have considered many things, I find no other thing. Is there,” quoth I,237 “anything that naturally leaving desire of life, wisheth to come to ruin and an end? In beasts themselves that have some kind of will to fly or not, I find, if men238 compel them not, they will not cast away their mind of lasting and hie them to the way of destruction. For each beast, I find, studies safety to keep, and shunneth death and decay. I cannot tell what I may say of herbs, of trees, of roots—I may doubt.239 “And yet there is no great cause, when we see the trees and herbs revive again in their fittest place that, as much as Nature will permit, they may not soon dry and die. Some in fields, some on hills do spring; others, marsh bear; others stick to stone. Some prosper on barren sand: which, if any man pluck up to set in other place, they wither. So Nature gives to each that him becomes; and strives that, while they may remain, they may not end. What shall I say, that some we see of them, as having turned their top to earth, draw nourishment to the root, and by their sap, spreads strength and bark?240 What, yea, that that is most soft, as were the marrow, is ever hid in innermost rind, without, covered by strength of some wood; but the uttermost bark, against the heavens’ weather, as sufferer of harm,241 is set a defender. Now, how great is Nature’s diligence, that all things be enlarged by most seed: which all, no man is ignorant, not only for a time of remaining, perpetually strives to remain.242 Those things that only have life, do they not ever by a natural instinct desire their own?243 Why does lightness draw up the flame; and weight, the evidently struggled. “Ore” can mean ‘head’ as well as ‘mouth,’ hence Elizabeth’s “top.” Elizabeth evidently construed “corticem” (bark) with “robur” (strength) as the object of the verb “diffundunt” (diffuse) rather than with “medullas” (pith) as the object of the preposition “per” (through). 241. innermost . . . harm in . . . rind in the inner (as contrasted with the outer) part of bark; “interiore . . . sede” (in the inside seat). without on the outside. as . . . harm “quasi mali patiens” (as one able to suffer the injury). 242. all things . . . remain all . . . seed “cuncta semine multiplicato propagentur” (all things are propagated by the multiplication of seed). which . . . remain “Quae omnia non modo ad tempus manendi verum generatim quoque quasi in perpetuum permanendi veluti quasdam machinas esse quis nesciat?” (all which—who does not know this?—are, so to speak, kinds of mechanisms not only for enduring for a time, but also by species to last, as it were, forever). 243. things . . . own things . . . life “quae inanimata esse creduntur” (things that are believed lifeless). See n239 on Elizabeth’s tendency in translating here. their own “quod suum est” (what belongs to them).

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dounWard drawes, but that all these agrees in their place and in their own Motion? And that agrees that euer is conserued, As those thinges that discorde doth corrupte. Those thinges that of Nature be hard, as stones, they stick most faste to their own roote, and so resist as easely they be Not pluckt of. The fleeting thinges as Ayre and Water, these easely be departed, but quickly return from whence they Were drawen. but fyre refusith all separation. We doo Not talk Now of the Volontary Motions of the soule of Man, but of the Naturall intent by nature giVen. As our Meate We take without great study and breth We drawe in our sLomber When We Know it Not. for in Very beastes, the desyre of contynuance, not of their lyves pleasure, but of their Natures begyning is but procedith for oft tymes they our Will imbracith death cause compelling, Which Nature dreades; and contraryWise desyre of Making our lyk, Wherby contynuance doth endure, our wills som tymes keeps vs from that Nature desyres. Wherfore this Loue of our selfes proceedes not of a Creatures Notion, but of a Naturall intent. for godes prouidence hath giuen to all thinges that be Made the desyre of remayning, that as Long as they May, Naturally they Will byde. So needes thou neuer doute that such thinges as Naturally desyre an abode Will shun destruction. I confesse it quoth I, for noW I plainly see such thinges as doutfull I found, that desyreth euer couetes euer to be one, that couetes to remayn and last. this being taken awaye, Nothing can abyde, An Vnity therfore all desyre, And one We haue shoWed that is only good. We Since therfore Ech thing seekith the good, it is playne that is only the good that of all is desyred. Nothing quoth I,

244. to . . . root to their own offspring. Elizabeth evidently misconstrued “partibus” (to their parts) as “partubus” (to their offspring). 245. departed divided into parts. 246. in very . . . beginning in very even in. of . . . pleasure “ex animae voluntatibus” (from the volitions of the soul). Elizabeth evidently misread “voluntatibus” as “voluptatibus” (pleasures). beginning first cause, first principle; “principiis.” 247. our will . . . our wills our . . . our . . . our Three additions by Elizabeth apply to human beings what Philosophy claims of all created things. cause compelling for a compelling reason; “cogentibus causis.” desire . . . endure “illud quo solo mortalium rerum durat diuturnitas gignendi opus” (that act of procreation by which, alone, the perpetuation of mortal things continues).

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earth downward draws, but that all these agrees in their place and in their own motion? And that agrees, that ever is conserved: as those things that discord doth corrupt. Those things that of nature be hard, as stones, they stick most fast to their own root,244 and so resist, as easily they be not plucked off. The fleeting things, as air and water, these easily be departed,245 but quickly return from whence they were drawn. But fire refuseth all separation. “We do not talk now, of the voluntary motions of the soul of man, but of the natural intent by Nature given. As, our meat we take without great study, and breath we draw in our slumber, when we know it not. For in very beasts, the desire of continuance, not of their lives’ pleasure, but of their natures’ beginning,246 proceedeth. For ofttimes our will embraceth death, cause compelling, which Nature dreads. And contrariwise, desire of making our like, whereby continuance doth endure, our wills247 sometimes keeps us from that Nature desires. Wherefore this love of ourselves proceeds not of a creature’s notion,248 but of a natural intent. For God’s Providence hath given to all things that be made, the desire of remaining:249 that, as long they may, naturally they will bide. So needs thou never doubt that such things as naturally desire an abode will shun destruction.”250 “I confess it,” quoth I, “for now I plainly see such things as doubtful I found.” “That covets ever to be one, that covets to remain and last. This251 being taken away, nothing can abide. An unity, therefore, all desire: and one, we have showed, that is only good. Since, therefore, each thing seeketh the good, it is plain,252 that is only the good, that of all is desired.”

248. notion Either Elizabeth misread Boethius’s “motione” as “notione” or mispoke, or Windebank misheard or miswrote Elizabeth’s “motion” as “notion.” 249. God’s . . . remaining God’s Elizabeth’s addition. the . . . remaining “hanc vel maximam manendi causam” (this altogether greatest cause of enduring). 250. such things . . . destruction “cuncta quae sunt appetere naturaliter constantiam permanendi, devitare perniciem” (all things that are, naturally desire the continuance of their survival and shun destruction). abode remaining. 251. This “hoc,” referring to the state of unity just mentioned. At the end of this sentence, and twice more shortly thereafter, Elizabeth omits Boethius the speaker’s formulaic expressions of agreement with Lady Philosophy. 252. it . . . plain “quod quidem ita describas licet” (which indeed you may describe in this way).

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can trulyer be thought. for eyther all thing shall com to nought, and As Wanting a head, without a guide shall ruyne, or yf Any thing ther be, to Which all hastes, that shall be the somme of all best. O scholler myne quoth she, I ioye that I haue fixd one mark in thy Minde one marke of Meane to truth, and heerby mayst thou see that a little before thou sayedst thou Knewest not, What is that quoth she quoth I What Was of all thing the end, for that is it that of all Men is Most sought for with supposing that that wiche by caus we suppose the thing only good only good is hi t is delight nether be because we seeme gather others good therfore we confesse that obtayne that is best, ne in it self in that to get the best is alL oWre end30 11. [Myter] Who so the trueth with deapest mynd doth sirche And Sekes by no by Wais to aWry to stray Into him selfe returne the Light of inWard mynd And Longe discours Straining to a round And teache the his mynd What so Without hit he Seke Layd Vp amonge his treasures Let him possess Kepe Lately that wiche blacky Cloud hathe dimmed that Lightar shal than ShSun Shine Out for not aL Light from mynd hathe draWen the boy body Carying a forgetful Waight Ther Stiks I trowe an inWard Sead of trothe Wiche kindelz best by Learnings beloWes for Axed Why do you the right desire If Imstinct31 in thy hart ther Wer not If Platoes Musis taLes the trueth

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30. for with . . . oWre end The extensive revisions of the final lines of prose 11 are in Elizabeth’s hand. 31. Imstinct instinct; Elizabeth’s penslip. 253. to naught . . . sum to naught Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann reads “ad nihilum” (to nothing). shall ruin shall crash down, fall headlong; “fluitabunt” (will float about, will move unsteadily). sum highest attainable point; “summum” (the highest). 254. I have . . . truth I . . . fixed “fixisti” (you have fixed). of . . . truth “mediae veritatis” (of the very center of truth). mean central part. 255. we suppose “collegimus” (we have concluded).

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“Nothing,” quoth I, “can trulier be thought. For either all thing shall come to naught, and, as wanting a head, without a guide shall ruin; or if anything there be to which all hastes, that shall be the sum253 of all best.” “O scholar mine,” quoth she, “I joy that I have fixed in thy mind one mark of mean to truth;254 and hereby mayst thou see that, a little before, thou sayedst thou knewest not.” “What is that?” quoth I. “What was of all thing the end. For that is it that, of all men, is most sought: which, because we suppose255 the thing only good is it, therefore we confess, that to get, is all our end.” Meter 11 Whoso the truth with deepest mind doth search, And seeks by no byways awry to stray, Into himself return the light of inward mind,256 And long discourse257 straining to a round, And teach his mind whatso without258 he seek, Laid up among his treasure, let him keep:259 Lately that which blacky cloud hath dimmed, That, lighter260 shall than sun shine out. For not all light from mind hath drawn The body, carrying a forgetful weight. There sticks, I trow, an inward seed of truth, Which kindles best by learning’s bellows.261 For, askèd, why do you the right desire262 If instinct in thy heart there were not? If Plato’s Muses tales the truth,

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256. return . . . mind return let him return; “revolvat” (hortatory subjunctive). inward mind “visus” (vision in the mind). 257. discourse “motus” (movements—of reason). 258. whatso without whatever external to himself. 259. Laid . . . keep “Suis retrusum possidere thesauris” (To possess hidden away within the mind’s treasury). 260. blacky . . . lighter blacky cloud Elizabeth does not translate “erroris” (of error), which immediately follows. lighter brighter. 261. I . . . bellows I trow I trust; “profecto” (assuredly). bellows “ventilante” (by fanning). 262. desire “censetis” (judge). The context is epistemological rather than ethical.

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That Eache man Lernes Forgetting not he remembers 1[2]. Pr[ose] Than I, for I agree quoth I well to PLato, for this the twise thou hast remembred me of it. first when Memory I Lost thorow bodyes syn, Next, prest With soroWes Burden. Then she yf the abouesaid thou hast regarded, thou Wilt not be Long ere thou remember that Lately thou hast confest thou Knewest Not. Whats that thou Meanest, by What Raynes the world is guided sayd I she I remember it, and that my ignorance confessted shewes, Albeit I see What thou hast brought me, yit playnlier of the to heare it I desyre. Alittle Before quoth she, Thou thoughtst there Was no doute but that the Wourld by god Was ruled. Nor neuer nether now nor euer Will I doute it, and What therfore be my reasons, in short I Will tell you. This World had neuer com togither into one forme of one so diuers and contrarious partes Without one it one it Were that so diuers thinges doth Joyne. And being so Knytt, the diuersitie of their oWn Natures Among themselves disagreeing, should Vncouple and breake them Without one it Were that held that so he knytt. for so certain an order of Nature should Not contynue, nor should shoW so many diuers Motions in their place, tyme, Woork, space and quality Without one it Were alone that euer byding himself, disposeth their mutable Varietye. What euer this is, Wherby the Made remayns, and by be Wrought, by Vsuall name of all Men, God is calld. Then she, Since this thou thinkst, I shall haue But little Labour that thou, that comprehendst felicitie, As a guest an inhabiter should renew thy Countrey. but let Vs se Look on our own Propositions. Haue We not set sufficiency in nomber of bLisse, And

263. tales . . . remembers tales tells, says. That . . . remembers Elizabeth divides Boethius’s final line into two. Forgetting . . . remembers In Meno 81–86 and Phaedo 72–77, Plato taught that knowledge comes by remembering what the soul forgot when it entered the body. Forgetting forgetful; “immemor.” 264. through . . . sin Elizabeth gives a Christian connotation to “corporea contagione” (with the body’s contamination). 265. I . . . shows “ ‘Memini,’ inquam, ‘me inscitam meam fuisse confessum’ ” (I remember that I confessed my ignorance).

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That, each man learns: Forgetting, he remembers.263 Prose 12 Then I: “I agree well to Plato, for twice thou hast remembered me of it: first, when memory I lost through body’s sin;264 next, pressed with sorrow’s burden.” Then she: “If the abovesaid thou hast regarded, thou wilt not be long ere thou remember that, lately, thou hast confessed thou knewest not.” “What’s that thou meanest?” “By what reins the world is guided,” said she. “I remember it, and that, my ignorance confessed, shows.265 Albeit I see what thou hast brought me, yet plainlier of thee to hear it I desire.” “A little before,” quoth she, “thou thoughtest there was no doubt but that the world by God was ruled.” “Neither now nor ever will I doubt it, and what, therefore, be my reasons, in short I will tell you. This world had never come together into one form of so divers and contrarious parts, without One it were that so, divers things doth join. And, being so knit, the diversity of their own natures, among themselves disagreeing, should uncouple and break them, without One it were that held that so He knit. For so certain an order of Nature should not continue, nor should show so many divers266 motions in their place, time, work, space, and quality, without One it were alone, that ever biding Himself, disposeth their mutable variety. Whatever this is, whereby the made remains and be wrought, by usual name of all men, ‘God’ is called.” Then she: “Since this thou thinkest, I shall have but little labor that thou, that comprehendest felicity, as an inhabiter should renew thy country.267 But let us look on our own propositions. Have we not set 266. divers “dispositos” (orderly). 267. that thou . . . country “ut felicitatis compos patriam sospes revisas” (that you, endowed with happiness, may return to your homeland). comprehendest lays hold of, attains to. inhabiter “sospes” (safe), which Elizabeth again confuses with “hospes.” The Bibliotheca Eliotae defines “hospes” as “a stranger not inhabiting in the countrie,” but the antithetical sense of ”hospes” as ‘host’ may have prompted Elizabeth to construe her presumed reading “hospes” as its opposite, an ‘inhabiter’ of his own land.

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so graunte that God it is, And to rule the World, he needith no other help, for etls yf ought he needed, full sufficiency he had Not. That Must needes be. Then by him self all he disposes alo alone. And god is he that only We haue shoWed to be the good. by goodnes therfore all he doth dispose, for by himself he rulith all, Whom We haue graunted the only good. And he is the Key and helm Wherby this Worldes Molde stable and Vncorrupt is kepte. I agree to this quoth I, And With a sLender suspicion I saWe afore What you Wold saye. I beleeue it Well: for euin noW as I think more heedely to Look to truth, thou hast turnd thyne eye. And that I say is playne now, that thou with Me May see. Whats that. When rightly We Beleeue that god all Rules by goodnes order and that all thinges as I haue taught you, by Naturall instinct highest hyes to the hiest good, Can Any man doute, but that Willingly they are so rulde, and turnes themselfes to the becK of the disposer, as Ruler of Meetest and best agreeing. It Must needes be quoth I, for els it could not be a blessed raigne, yf it should be the yoke of draWers bacK, not sauour the savour32 of the obeyeng, And so nothing can conserue Nature, that stryves to gaynesay his God, But What if he Went about it, Can Any thing euer prevayle against him Whom all men graunte by Lawe of bliss, the Mightyest It should Nought preVayle said I, for ther is Nothing that eyther can or may resist the greatest good. Then that is, the top of felicitie, that stowtly

32. savour Marked for correction, the word should read “saver.” 268. set . . . is? set . . . of “Nonne . . . numeravimus” (have we not included). Elizabeth renders the verb in its literal, root sense of ‘to include in a reckoning.’ so . . . is? and granted that God is bliss? Here, and at several subsequent junctures in prose 12, Elizabeth omits Boethius’s formulaic expressions of agreement with Lady Philosophy. 269. key “clavus” (rudder), which Elizabeth mistakes for “clavis” (key).

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sufficiency in number of bliss, and so grant that God it is?268 And to rule the world He needeth no other help. For else, if aught He needed, full sufficiency He had not.” “That must needs be.” “Then, by Himself, all He disposes alone. And God is He that, only, we have showed to be the good. By goodness, therefore, all He doth dispose, for by Himself He ruleth all, whom we have granted the only good. And He is the key269 and helm whereby this world’s mold stable and uncorrupt is kept.” “I agree to this,” quoth I, “and with a slender suspicion I saw afore what you would say.” “I believe it well. For even now, as I think, more heedly to look to truth thou hast turned thine eye. And that I say is plain, now that thou with me may see.”270 “What’s that?” “When rightly we believe that God all rules by goodness’ order, and that all things, as I have taught you, by natural instinct hies to the highest good, can any man doubt but that willingly they are so ruled, and turns themselves to the beck of the Disposer, as Ruler of meetest and best agreeing?”271 “It must needs be,” quoth I, “for else it could not be a blessed reign, if it should be the yoke of drawers-back, not the Sav[er] of the obeying.”272 “And so nothing can conserve nature that strives to gainsay his God.” “But what if he went about it? Can anything ever prevail against Him, whom all men grant, by law,273 of bliss the mightiest?” “It should naught prevail,” said I. “For there is nothing that either can or may resist the greatest

270. And . . . see “Sed quod dicam non minus ad contuendum patet” (But what I shall say appears no less obvious to the sight). 271. as . . . agreeing “veluti convenientia contemperataque rectori” (being as it were in harmony with and adapted to their ruler). 272. Sav[er] . . . obeying “obtemperantium salus” (salvation/savior of the obedient). See n32 on p. 240. 273. by law Elizabeth translates “iure” in its legal sense here, where the context suggests ‘rightly.’

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rules and gently all disposith. O how much quoth I, these thinges not only that are concluded by great Reason, but thy Wordes themselves Much more delytes me, So as a Man May be ashamd of him self that fooLishly hath babled so much. You haue hard er NoW sayd she, in fables hoW Gyantes haue cLamard to the heVens, but them to as hit Was Meete, the gentle folkes force hath deposd. but Will you haue yo Me make a comparison. Perchance thoroW such debate, some cleere sparkell of trouth shall Leape out. Thy Judgement hath Made the suppose that No man doutes but God is of all thing the mightyest. No man Will doubte therof, Without he be mad and he that is Rulith all, nothing ther is that doo he can not. Nothing quoth I, can god do yll then? No quoth I. for yll is Nothing, When he can not Make it, that can doo all. Do you dally With me quoth I, and Wrap me in an some Vndooing Laberinth of Reason, In Which now thou entrest in, by Which Whence thou Wentest out, and Now retirest goest out Where thou camst in. In So hast thou not not thus Wrapt Wrought a in rounde Rondelll of dyuine sinceritie? for a little afore begynning from bliss, thou saydst she Was greatest good Which only abode in the greatest god. Then thou saydst that God himself was the greatest good and blisse of whom no man was made blessed but he that was lyke to him And that thou gauest for a reward Then thou saydst that god himself Was the greatest good and blisse, of Whom no Man Was made blessed, but he that has Was lyke to him, And that thou gauest for a reWard. Then thou saydst that the shape of good Was the substance of god and bliss, and so didst saye, that he alone Was greatest good, Which Naturally

274. can . . . . disposeth can or may “velit vel possit” (either would or could). that . . . disposeth “quod regit cuncta fortiter suaviterque disponit.” An echo of Wisdom of Solomon 8:1, describing how divine wisdom “fortiter et disponit omnia suaviter,” which commentators consider the clearest instance of Biblical allusion in the Consolation. 275. a man . . . much Pulmann’s edition reads “ut tandem aliquando stultitiam magna latrantem sui pudeat” (Folly, barking at me so much, may be ashamed of herself at last). Elizabeth transfers the shame from a personified Folly to the person who has spoken foolishly: Boethius. babbled Pulmann reads “latrantem” (barking). “Babbled” probably carries its early modern association with hounds that bark too loudly or without cause. 276. have . . . deposed have . . . to have disturbed with clamoring up to; “lacessentes” (challenging, verbally assailing). deposed “disposuit” (put in proper order). Elizabeth either misread as “deposuit” or translates loosely, responding to the context and the sound of the Latin verb.

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good. Then that is the top of felicity, that stoutly rules, and gently all disposeth.”274 “O how much,” quoth I, “these things not only that are concluded by great reason, but thy words themselves much more delights me! So as a man may be ashamed of himself, that foolishly hath babbled so much.”275 “You have heard ere now,” said she, “in fables how giants have clamored to the heavens, but them, too, as it was meet, the gentle Force hath deposed.276 But will you have me make a comparison?277 Perchance through such debate, some clear sparkle of truth shall leap out. Thy judgment hath made thee suppose278 that no man doubts, but God is of all thing the mightiest.” “No man will doubt thereof, without he be mad.” “And He that ruleth all, nothing there is, that do He cannot.” “Nothing,” quoth I. “Can God do ill, then?” “No,” quoth I. “For ill is nothing, when He cannot make it, that can do all.” “Do you dally with me,” quoth I, “and wrap me in undoing279 labyrinth of reason, in which thou enterest in whence thou wentest out, and now goest out where thou camest in? So hast thou not thus wrapped a roundel of divine sincerity?280 For, a little afore, beginning from bliss, thou saidst she was greatest good, which only abode in the greatest God. Then thou saidst that God Himself was the greatest good and bliss, of whom no man was made blessed, but he that was like to Him.281 And that thou gavest for a reward. Then thou saidst that the shape of good was the substance of God and bliss, and so,

277. make . . . comparison “rationes ipsas invicem collidamus” (clash together our arguments). 278. Thy . . . suppose Pulmann reads, without quotation marks: “Tuo, inquam, arbitratu” (As you wish, say I). Elizabeth takes “Tuo . . . arbitratu” to be part of Philosophy’s speech, meaning ‘according to your judgment.’ She presumably construes “inquam” as an aside from Philosophy rather than as marking a shift in speaker. 279. undoing ruinous, destructive; “inextricabilem” (inextricable). 280. So . . . sincerity “an mirabilem quendam divinae simplicitatis orbem complicas” (or are you folding together a wonderful circle of divine simplicity?). wrapped enfolded. roundel circle. sincerity purity, singleness. 281. but . . . Him “nisi qui pariter deus esset” (unless he was equally a god). Again Elizabeth tones down Boethius’s implication that the virtuous man achieves divinity.

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ech man desyrd, and didst dispute that god Was he that ruld the Vniuersalitie by the raynes of goodnes, and All thinges Willingly did obey, And so ther Was no euill in Nature. And didst show hoW all thinges not by outward But one from An other Lynking BeLeefe had ingraft prooues and their oWn. Then she We do not sporte, and by for as godes gyftes doo the greatest doo require, that thing that of Late We so much desyrd. for such is the shape of diuine subsance that neyther it slyppith to outWard causes, nor inWardly doth take for him self Any thing Without him But as for many doith Parmenides sayth, A lyke Waight compasse in Roundnes ech Circle caryes, Then if We haue so Well compast, that We haue Not gatherd our reasons out of the Matter, but agreing With that that We haue treated, ther is no cause then Why thou shouldst doute, When thou hast Lernt by PLato, that all speche talke should agree As neere of Kyn to matter that We speake of.

12. M[yter]. blist that may of Good The fontaine Clire behold happy that Can Of Waighty Erthe the bondes, to breake The Tracian profit33 Wons his WiVes funeralz Wailing

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didst say, that He alone was greatest good, which naturally each man desired.282 And didst dispute that God was He that ruled the universality by the reins of goodness, and all things willingly did obey, and so, there was no evil in Nature. And didst show how all things—not by outward but, one from another, linking belief—had engraffed proofs, and their own.”283 Then she: “We do not sport, as God’s gifts, the greatest, do require, that thing that of late we so much desired. For such is the shape of divine substance that neither it slippeth to outward causes, nor inwardly doth take for Himself anything without Him. But, as Parmenides saith: ‘A like compass in roundness each circle carries.’284 Then, if we have so well compassed, that we have not gathered our reasons out of the matter, but agreeing with that that we have treated, there is no cause, then, why thou shouldst doubt, when thou hast learned by Plato,285 that all talk should agree, as near of kin, to matter that we speak of.” Meter 12 Blessed that may, of good The fountain clear behold; Happy that can, of weighty Earth the bonds to break. The Thracian prophet,286 once, His wife’s funerals wailing,

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orbem mobilem rotat, dum se immobilem ipsa conservat” (it turns the moving circle of things, while it keeps itself unmoved). 285. compassed . . . Plato compassed planned, devised. doubt “admirere” (wonder). Plato Timaeus 29B argues that words should be akin to the matter treated. 286. Thracian prophet The bard Orpheus, whom Boethius describes periphrastically as “Vates Threicius” (the Thracian “vates”). “Vates” can connote a divinely inspired seer or a divinely inspired bard. Elizabeth’s “prophet” has a similar range; the OED cites this passage as an example of “prophet” in the sense of ‘inspired bard.’ Orpheus, the son of Calliopê, the Muse of poetry, was a mythical poet-musician of Thrace in northern Greece who could pacify wild animals and move rocks and trees with his songs. Desiring to bring his wife Eurydice back from the dead, he sang to induce the gods of the underworld to let her return to life. They agreed but set one condition: Orpheus was not to look back at Eurydice as she followed him. He did look back, and she disappeared forever. Boethius recounts this myth to illustrate that human beings must follow the light of spiritual truth and not return to the darkness of earthly understanding.

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Whan with Wailing s soroWs note The Wauering trees he moued And stedy riVers made And hind cause caused Joinenge Vnfearing Sides to Lion fierce Nor hare did feare the Looke Of Cruel dog so plised With Song Whan ferVentar desir the inWard brest more burnt, Nor Could the notes that aL subdued Might pacefie ther Lord Of Ireful Godz Complaining the heLLy house Went to Ther Ther V faining verse Tuning to Sounding Stringe What so greatest he drew from springs Of a Mother Goddes Of The greatest for of Mother Godz What feable mone Could Giue What doubled Love afourd Are byWailes,34 and hel doth stur And with dulce sute pardon Of darkenis Lordes besiche Wondars doth the thre hedded Jailor Compased W amazt at the unWonted tounge Verse ReVenging Goddes of fauLtes That Wontid Gilty feare SoroWing with teares bedeWed the were.

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34. byWailes bewails. 287. When . . . note “Postquam flebilibus modis” (after, in weeping measures). 288. cruel Elizabeth’s addition. 289. helly “Infernas” (infernal, underworldly). 290. faining pleasant, gladdening; “blanda” (gentle, alluring). Elizabeth’s “faining” may also evoke, however, the sense of ‘longing, desiring.’ 291. What . . . mother-god’s “Quidquid praecipuis deae / Matris fontibus hauserat” (All that he had drawn from the foremost springs of his goddess mother). 292. What . . . hell What . . . love “Quod luctum geminans amor” (What love doubling grief). hell “Taenara”—an entrance to Hades or to the underworld in general.

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When with sorrow’s note287 The wav’ring trees he moved, And steady, rivers made; And hind caused join Unfearing sides to lion fierce; Nor hare did fear the look Of cruel288 dog, so pleased with song. When ferventer desire th’inward Breast more burnt, Nor could the notes that all subdued Pacify their lord: Of ireful gods complaining, The helly289 house went to. There faining290 verse, Tuning to sounding string: What he drew, from springs (The greatest of mother-god’s)291 What feeble moan could give, What doubled love afford, Bewails, and hell292 doth stir; And, with dulce suit, pardon Of darkness’ lord293 beseech. Wonder doth the three-headed Jailer,294 amazèd at unwonted verse. Revenging gods, of faults That wonted guilty fear,295 Sorrowing, with tears bedewed, they were.

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293. suit . . . lord suit petition, entreaty, litigation; “prece” (with prayer). The legal resonance of “suit” befits an appeal to an underworld god who is termed a “judge” (arbiter) in line 40. darkness’ lord Hades, the ruler of the underworld. Boethius reads “Umbrarum dominos” (the lords of the shades), his plural probably evoking Hades / Pluto and his wife Proserpine. 294. three-headed / Jailer Cerberus, the guard dog at the gate of Hades’ realm. 295. Revenging . . . fear “Quae sontes agitant metu / Ultrices scelerum deae” (They who shake the guilty with fear / Goddess-avengers of crimes)—an allusion to the Furies.

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not

Ixiones hed the WhirLing WhiLe The WhirLing WhiLe35 did turn And Lost with Longue thirst TantaLus Riuers skornes The Vultur fiLd with the notes Tityrus LiVor haLed tared not At Last Wailing Said the Juge Of Shady place We ar Yeld To man We giue his Wife for feere Won by his Song With this Law bound be the gift While in the Tartar thou bidest turn back thy Looke thou must not. but Who to Loue giues LaW? for greatest Law his Loue he made So night draWing to her ende Eurydicen36 his Orϕeus Sawe Sawe Lost and killed this fable touchith you Who so doth seak to gide To hiest day his mynd for Who in heLy Shade Won man his yees doth bend

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35. WhiLe wheel. 36. Eurydicen Elizabeth preserves the accusative case of Boethius’s proper noun. 296. Ixione’s . . . wheel Ixion, a ruler of the Lapiths in northern Thessaly, was bound to a revolving fiery wheel in the underworld for attempting to rape Hera / Juno. 297. lost . . . Tantalus lost “perditus” (lost, i.e., desperate, beyond recovery). Tantalus For some crime against the gods (there are diverse accounts), Tantalus was condemned to futile efforts at getting water to drink and fruit to eat, which remained out of reach. 298. Tityrus’ liver Elizabeth replicates a confusion in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, “Tityri iecur” (the liver of Tityrus), corrected to “Tityi iecur” (the liver of Tityus) in 1580. Tityrus is Virgil’s pastoral persona. The giant Tityus was punished in the underworld by a vulture tearing at his liver for attempting to rape Leto, the mother of Apollo.

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Not Ixione’s head The whirling wheel296 did turn; And lost with long thirst, Tantalus297 rivers scorns; The vulture, filled with notes, Tityrus’ liver298 tearèd not. At last, wailing, said the judge Of shady place:299 “We yield; To man we give his wife for fere, Won300 by his song. With this law, bound be the gift: While in the Tartar301 thou bidest, Turn back thy look, thou must not.” But who to love gives law? For, greatest law his love he made.302 So, night drawing to her end, Eurydice his, Orpheus Saw, lost, and killed.303 This fable toucheth you, Whoso doth seek to guide To highest day his mind. For who in helly shade, Won man, his eyes doth bend:

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299. wailing . . . place wailing “miserans” (pitying). judge . . . place “arbiter / Umbrarum” (the judge of the shades, i..e., the dead); Hades-Pluto. 300. fere . . . Won fere companion. Won “emptam” (bought). “Won” evokes “Vincimur” (We are conquered), translated in line 41 as “We yield.” 301. the Tartar Tartarus, the infernal regions, so called after one of its principal rivers. 302. But . . . made “Quis legem det amantibus? / Maior lex amor est sibi” (But who could give a law to lovers? / Love is a greater law unto itself). Elizabeth turns a generalization about love into a claim about Orpheus. 303. Saw . . . killed Elizabeth replicates the spare wording of the original: “Vidit, perdidit, occidit.” Like the Loeb edition, Elizabeth construes “occidit” as “killed,” which would require an unmetrical medial long i. “Occidit” with a medial short i means ‘was undone, was ruined, perished.’

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What So he Chifest held In VeWing heL hathe Lost [Postscript in Elizabeth’s hand:] Et. Sic. beny 304. Won . . . held Won man a man overcome; “Victus.” Whatso . . . held Whatever was best that he possessed; Whatever he regarded as very best. chiefest very best. held possessed, regarded as. The former sense is closer to Boethius’s “Quidquid praecipuum trahit” (Whatever excellence he acquires); the latter is a more natural construal of the English. Elizabeth probably intended both.

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Whatso he chiefest held,304 In viewing hell, hath lost. Et sic bene.305

305. Et . . . bene “And thus, is well.” Elizabeth’s commendatory postscript could refer to the befitting fate of Orpheus, to the moral and lyric power of Boethius, or to the caliber of the translation that she has just completed.

figure 3 End of book 3 and beginning of book 4 of Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae (October-November 1593), fol. 49r. Reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, UK.

The fourth booke / 1 1. Pr[ose] Thus When Philosophy her stately Looke and graue countenance Keeping, In Mylde and sweete sorte had song, Then I, not forgetting my Lately ingraVen Woe burst out to tell som part of my intent. O quoth I, Thou true Way of the guide of true light, such thinges As thy talke hitherto hath Vtterd, by diuine speculation and Reason thyne, hath shewed haue are shoWed inuincible. And though the same is of Late, my iniuryes soroWe forgate, yet altogither of them I Was not ignorant, but this Was the self and greatest cause of all My Woe, that When the ri g Righter of all thing is good, eyther At all euills can be, or Vnpunished paste. pas That hoW VnWorthy of Wonder it is consider I pray you. but to this a greater mater is added, for Wickednes Ruling and florishing, not only Vertue Wantes rewarde, but subiect to the feete of Wicked men, is troden doWne and suffers payne that Wicked folkes deserue. Which happening in a Raigne of him that all KnoWes, all Made and such a god that Wills but only that is good, No Man can but mervell and complayne. It should be Worthy be worthy mervell

1. The . . . booke This caption is written in Windebank’s italic hand. 1. burst . . . intent “intentionem dicere adhuc aliquid parantis abrupi” (I cut short her concentration as she was preparing to say something more). Elizabeth construes “abrupi” in its alternative sense of ‘I blurted out’ and associates the “intentionem” with Boethius the speaker rather than with Philosophy.

The Fourth Book Prose 1 Thus when Philosophy, her stately look and grave countenance keeping, in mild and sweet sort had sung, then I, not forgetting my late engraven woe, burst out to tell some part of my intent.1 “O,” quoth I. “Thou, the guide of true light, such things as thy talk hitherto hath uttered, by divine speculation, and reason thine, are showed invincible.2 And though the same, of late, my injuries’ sorrow forgot,3 yet altogether of them I was not ignorant. But this was the self and greatest cause of all my woe: that when the Righter of all thing is good, either at all, evils can be, or unpunished pass. That, how worthy wonder it is, consider, I pray you. But to this a greater matter is added. For, wickedness ruling and flourishing, not only virtue wants reward, but, subject to the feet of wicked men, is trodden down and suffers pain4 that wicked folks deserve. Which, happening in a reign of Him that all knows, all made;5 and such a God that wills but only that is good, no man can but marvel and complain.” “It should be worthy marvel,” quoth she, “and horrible more than 2. by . . . invincible “cum sui speculatione divina tum tuis rationibus invicta patuerunt” (have been clearly showed to be not only divine in their contemplation but also invincible because of your arguments). 3. my . . . forgot because of sorrow over my injuries I forgot. 4. pain punishment. Elizabeth often uses “pain” in this sense to render “supplicium.” 5. all made “potentis omnia” ([is] all powerful).

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quoth she, And horrible More than Any Monster, if As thou supposest, yf in a house guyded by such a Master, base Vessels should be esteemd, and precious are2 despisd. But so it is not. for if such thinges be Kepte Which We of Late concluded, and be not separate kepte together he being the maker of Whose kingdom We spake, thou shalt Knowe that euer good Men be mighty, yll men sLaues and Weake. And how Vice is neuer Without punishment, nor Vertue Without rewarde. And hoW Prosperitie to the good, yll luck to euill betydes. And such lyke, Which may Leaving quarrels, strengthen the with steddy soundnes. And for that thou haste seene the Picture of true blisse, Which I sheWed the, And haste KnoWen Where hit is PLaced, Passing all those thinges that Necessary I think not, I Will shoW the the Way that home to thy house May bring the, and stick such fethers in thy Mynde, Wherby thou Mayst sore Vp on hye. so as Woe trode doWn, homedweller in thy country by my guyding, path and Charyot mayst return. 13. M. 1. M[yter] for Spedy Wings quiLLes haue I That fur aboue the pole do reache Wiche Whan my flijnge mind putz on hating the erthe despice3 hit And hiar hies than4 erthes Globe and the and Cloudes behind me See ^

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2. are Omitted in the duplicated portion of book 4. 3. despice despise. Windebank’s italic hand in the duplicated portion of book 4 reads “despises.” 4. than Windebank’s italic hand in the duplicated portion of book 4 reads “that.” 6. monster marvel, unnatural event; “monstrum” (evil portent). 7. kept . . . slaves kept together “inconvulsa” (unshaken, i.e., valid). slaves “abiectos” (downcast, low). 8. leaving quarrels ceasing complaints; “sopitis querellis” (laying your complaints to rest). 9. passing . . . home-dweller passing . . . not Elizabeth misconstrues “decursis omnibus quae praemitttere necessarium puto” (running through all the things that I think it necessary to set out first). woe . . . down “perturbatione depulsa” (with distress driven

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any monster,6 as thou supposest, in a house guided by such a Master, base vessels should be esteemed, and precious are despised. But so it is not. For if such things be kept which we of late concluded, and be kept together, He being the Maker of whose kingdom we spake, thou shalt know that, ever, good men be mighty, ill men slaves7 and weak. And how vice is never without punishment, nor virtue without reward. And how prosperity to the good, ill luck to evil betides, and suchlike—which may, leaving quarrels,8 strengthen thee with steady soundness. And, for that thou hast seen the picture of true bliss, which I showed thee, and hast known where it is placed, passing all those things that necessary I think not, I will show thee the way that home to thy house may bring thee; and stick such feathers in thy mind, whereby thou mayst soar up on high: so as, woe trod down, home-dweller9 in thy country by my guiding, path, and chariot mayst return.”

Meter 1 For speedy quills10 have I, That far above the pole do reach, Which, when my flying11 mind puts on, Hating the earth, despise it; And higher hies than Earth’s globe,12 And clouds behind me see,

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away). home-dweller “sospes” (safe), mistaken for “hospes,” which Elizabeth seems to treat as “home-dweller” rather than its opposite, “foreigner.” See n267 on p. 239. 10. quills wings (a poetic usage); “pennae” (wings). Elizabeth may also have intended a pun on “quills” as ‘feather-pens,’ thus equating mental flight with writing while rendering Boethius’s “pennae” in its medieval and Renaissance Latin sense of ‘pens.’ The Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) defines “penna” as “a penne or quille . . . sometyme . . . a wynge,” giving this post-Boethian sense as its first meaning. 11. my flying my “sibi” (one’s). Elizabeth begins reproducing Boethius’s third-person singular pronouns in line 9. flying Both ‘flying’ like a bird and ‘passing swiftly’; “velox” (swift). 12. Earth’s globe “aeris immensi . . . globum” (sphere of measureless air).

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^ And pas aboue the fiars top With sWiftnis that the heauens heat5 Vntil to Starry house hit comme With Φebus Sorteth Way And Soldiar made of Shining star An Cold6 ha Saturne doth felowe, Or Wher the sheWing night The Circle Round with turn doth make And and Whan got ynough she hathe, The oWtmost7 Pole he leues And worrthy made of hiest Light Presseth the waight of spidy sKie he Lord holdz of kings the Sceptar and Raines of WorLd doth gide And stable rules the Spidy Cours Of all the noble Juge hither if the Way bak do bring the Wiche noW forgetting thou requirest This wilt thou Say my country is I knowe hens Came I hire Wyl I stay my step And if of erthe hit please the the darkenes Left to VeWe The grimme Lookis that people dredeth so Of banissed Tirantz shalt behold.

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5. ^ And . . . heat Elizabeth has written her translation of lines 7 and 8 vertically in the right margin of fol. 49v, keying the lines’ position in the body of the verse with carets. 6. old Omitted by Windebank in the duplicated portion of book 4; he evidently thought that Elizabeth had deleted the whole word, not just the initial C. 7. oWtmost In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank reads “uttmost.” 13. And . . . heat Boethius describes the ascent to the sphere of fire in the upper air (ether), the outermost sphere of the cosmos that moves the other concentric spheres; beyond the ether is the empyrean, where God dwells. fire’s . . . heat the fiery outermost sphere heats the other celestial spheres. 14. starry . . . way starry house One of the twelve “houses” of the signs of the zodiac, which are the twelve sections of the ecliptic through which the sun moved in a year, according to the geocentric astronomy prior to Copernicus. Boethius has a plural, “astriferas . . . domus” (starry houses). sorteth way fits / adapts its course; “coniungat vias” (may join paths).

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And pass above the fire’s top, With swiftness that the heavens heat,13 Until to starry house it come, With Phoebus sorteth way,14 And, soldier made of shining star, Old Saturn doth fellow;15 Or where the showing night, The circle round doth make;16 And when got enough he hath, The outmost pole he leaves; And, worthy made of highest light, Presseth the weight of speedy sky.17 He,18 Lord, holds of kings the scepter, And reins of world doth guide, And stable rules the speedy course Of all, the noble19 Judge. Hither, if the way back do bring thee, (Which now, forgetting, thou requirest), “This,” wilt thou say, “my country is, I know;20 Hence came I; here will I stay my step.” And if, of earth, it please thee The darkness left, to view: The grim looks, that people dreadeth so, Of banished tyrants shalt behold.21

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15. And . . . fellow “Aut comitetur iter gelidi senis / Miles corusci sideris” (Or accompany the way of the cold, old one / A soldier of his shining star). Old Elizabeth originally wrote “Cold,” then deleted the C, although Boethius has the two adjectives. Of the five planets known to ancient astronomy, Saturn was thought to be the coldest. 16. showing . . . make showing night the night [is] displaying itself; “micans nox pingitur” (the glittering night is decorated). The . . . make “Recurrat astri circulum” (May follow again the orbit of stars). 17. And . . . sky “Dorsaque velocis premat aetheris / Compos verendi luminis” (It presses down upon the outside of the swift upper air, / Mastering the venerable light). 18. He Elizabeth mistakes “hic” with long i (here) for “hic” with short i (he). 19. course . . . noble course “currum” (chariot), which Elizabeth apparently confused with “cursum” (course). noble “coruscus” (shining). 20. requirest . . . know requirest seek; “requiris.” I know Boethius’s “memini” (I remember) evokes the Platonic doctrine of knowledge as recollection. 21. The . . . behold “Quos miseri torvos populi timent / Cernes tyrannos exules” (Those whom wretched people fear as fierce: / Tyrants, you will see as exiles).

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2. Pr[ose] Than I o Lord how great thinges dost thou promis nether doubt I but that performe you thou canst hit, but stik not noW at that thou hast begon. first therfor thou must knoWe quoth she that good men haue euer poWer, IueL men Lack euer strengh for Good and yL being so Contrary Yf poWrefuL be the first, the Last doth sheWe his Lack. but that your Opinion may haue more Credit by ether pathe I WyL treade, and therby my propositions Confirme, Two thinges ther be by Wiche the effecte of eache mans doings apere,8 WyL and poWer, Of Whiche if ether Lacke, nothing may be perfourmed, for WyL Wanting, No man WyL go about that I he Wold not, and poWer fayle, Vain is WyL So hit foLoWes that Whan he wants that he WyLz, no dout but poWer faiLes to get the desired. That is plain and Can not be denied. And Whom thou Seest optaine that he Wold dost thou dout that he may not haue the power / In that he preVailes, In that man is able, but Weke must nides be, in that he may not. dost thou remember that in our Last arguments this Was gathered, that the intent of eache mans WyL, that thogh diuersly as distracted, is only to hie to blis. I remember hit Was so sheWed, dost thou CaL to mynd that blis is the greatest good and So Whan that is Soght aL best is got9 I remember that Well Inough quoth I, for that held I fixd in mynde.10 Therfore all good Men and yll stryve to com to the best by diuers intentes. So it is. but it Most sure it is that they are made good Men by

8. apere In the duplicated portion of book 4 Windebank reads “appears.” 9. is got The opening lines of prose 2, up to this point, are in Elizabeth’s hand. 10. mynde In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank reads “my mynde.” 22. O . . . begun. O Lord “Papae” (Wonderful!). stick not do not stop; “ne moreris” (do not delay). at . . . begun “quem excitaveris” ([me], whom you have aroused). that that which, what (a common sixteenth-century usage). Elizabeth renders “quem” (whom) as if it were “quod.” 23. strength Elizabeth does not translate the immediately following phrase “quorum quidem alterum demonstratur ex altero” (of which indeed the one is proved from the other). 24. if . . . lack “si bonum potens esse constiterit, liquet inbecillitas mali; at si fragilitas clarescat mali, boni firmitas nota est” (if it is established that good is powerful, the weakness of evil is clear; and if the fragility of evil is evident, the firmness of good is known).

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Prose 2 Then I: “O Lord, how great things dost thou promise, neither doubt I but that perform thou canst it, but stick not now at that thou hast begun.”22 “First, therefore, thou must know,” quoth she, “that good men have ever power, evil men lack ever strength.23 For good and ill, being so contrary, if powerful be the first, the last doth show his lack.24 But, that your25 opinion may have more credit, by either path I will tread, and thereby my propositions confirm. Two things there be, by which the effect of each man’s doings appear—will and power—of which, if either lack, nothing may be performed. For, will wanting, no man will go about that he would not; and, power fail, vain is will. So it follows, that when he wants26 that he wills, no doubt but power fails to get the desired.” “That is plain, and cannot be denied.” “And, whom thou seest obtain that he would, dost thou doubt that he may not have the power?27 In that he prevails, in that, man is able; but weak must needs be, in that he may not. Dost thou remember that in our last arguments this was gathered: That the intent of each man’s will, though diversely distracted, is only to hie to bliss?” “I remember it was so showed.” “Dost thou call to mind that bliss is the greatest good, and so, when that is sought, all best is got?”28 “I remember that well enough,”29 quoth I, “for that held I fixed in mind.” “Therefore all good men and ill strive to come to the best by divers intents.”30

25. your “nostrae” (our). 26. wants lacks. 27. he . . . power that he has the power (with a pleonastic “not”); “potuisse” (was able to do [it]). power Following this word, and at several other points in prose 2, Elizabeth does not translate Boethius’s expressions of agreement with Lady Philosophy. 28. all . . . got “ab omnibus desiderari bonum” (the good is desired by all men). 29. “I . . . enough” “Minime . . . recordor” (I do not remember it at all—i.e., because I never let it slip from my mind). 30. by . . . intents Boethius says the opposite: “indiscreta intentione” (with indistinguishable effort).

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obtayning good. but is it sure that good Men doo allwayes obtayne that they desyre. So it seems. but if yll Men Might obtayne good, they could not be yll. So it is. When they both desyre good, but the one gettes it, the other Not, It is certain that good Men be mighty and yll Weake: Who euer quoth I doutes therof, neyther can consider Natures property, nor sequele of Reason. Then if twoo ther be that by nature requires the lyke, one thing the one by a Naturall inclynation doth and performs that he ought, one of them naturally does that and performs, and the other no Way can do that, it Nor can agree to What Nature Will, and so to fullfill his intent doo but folloW the fulfiller, Which of them ij. thinkest thou More of poWre? Yf Though I coniecture What you Wold, yet plainlyer I desyre to heare. The motion of WalKing, you can Not deny but all Men ha11 Nor does not doute that is not the feetes office: Yf Any man then that can go, and an other to Whom the Naturall propertie of the feete is Wanting, stryving With his handes stryves so to Walke Which of these ij suppose you More Worth? Performe the rest of that you Will, for no Man doutes but he is More of force that hath the Vse of Nature, than he that Wantes it. But the greatest good said she, that is set before yll and good, the good desyre by Naturall duty of vertue, the other by a scatterd desyre, and stryue to get that Which is no proper gift to such as Will obtayne the greatest good. Doest thou think the contrary. No quoth I, for that

11. ha A hole in the right edge of fol. 50v has obliterated the evident word ending; see n35 on p. 263. 31. But is . . . desire?” Elizabeth follows a misprint in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, corrected in 1580: “Certum adipiscuntur igitur boni quod appetunt?” (But is it certain, therefore, that good men attain what they seek?). A period should follow “Certum” to distinguish Boethius the speaker’s affirmation from Philosophy’s following question, “Adipiscuntur . . . ?” as it does in all other Renaissance editions consulted. 32. it . . . certain Like all sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “non dubium” (there is no doubt). 33. sequel . . . reason what follows from the arguments; “consequentiam . . . rationum.”

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“So it is.” “But most sure it is, they are made good men by obtaining good. But is it sure that good men do always obtain that they desire?”31 “So it seems.” “But if ill men might obtain good, they could not be ill.” “So it is.” “When they both desire good, but the one gets it, the other not, it is certain32 that good men be mighty, and ill, weak.” “Whoever,” quoth I, “doubts thereof, neither can consider Nature’s property nor sequel of reason.”33 “Then, if two there be that by nature requires one, one of them naturally does that, and performs; and the other no way can do it, nor can agree to what Nature will, and so, to fulfill his intent do but follow the fulfiller:34 which of them two, thinkest thou, more of power?” “Though I conjecture what you would, yet plainlier I desire to hear.” “The motion of walking, you cannot deny but all men ha[ve], nor does not doubt, that is not35 the feet’s office. If any man, then, that can go, and another to whom the natural property of the feet is wanting, striving with his hands, strives so to walk: which of these two suppose you more worth?”36 “Perform the rest37 of that you will; for no man doubts but he is more of force, that hath the use of nature, than he that wants it.” “But the greatest good,” said she, “that is set before ill and good, the good desire by natural duty of virtue, the other by a scattered desire, and strive to get that which is no proper gift to such as will obtain the greatest good.38 Dost thou think the contrary?” 34. nor . . . fulfiller nor . . . will “alio vero modo quam naturae convenit” (but [acts] in a different manner from what accords with Nature). do . . . fulfiller only imitates the one who actually fulfills (the appropriate acts); “sed imitetur implentem.” 35. ha[ve] . . . not ha[ve] We restore the letters obliterated by a hole in the manuscript; Windebank reads “have” in the duplicated portion of book 4. Elizabeth does not translate the following phrase, “secundum naturam” (by nature). nor . . . not nor do you (with a double negative). is not i.e., is (a superfluous double negative). 36. more worth more worthy. Boethius reads “valentior” (stronger), which Elizabeth translates a few lines earlier as “more of power” and in the next sentence as “more of force.” Here, for variation, she bases her rendering on the root sense of “valere” (to be worth). 37. Perform . . . rest Construct the remainder of the argument; “Contexe . . . cetera.” 38. set . . . greatest good set . . . and good “aeque malis bonisque propositum” (offered to good and evil men equally). by . . . virtue “naturali officio virtutum” (by the natural

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is playne that folloWes. for heerby May We gather that I graunted afore, good men to be mighty, and yll men Weake. Rightly hast thou discourst, And so as phisicians ought12 do hope, that it is a signe of a helthy and Resisting Nature. But for that I see the redyest to Vnderstand I Will heape Vp many reasons. Beholde hoW greate a Weakenes is there appeers in Vicious Men that can Not obtayne that to Which their Naturall intent Leades and Well nye compells. And What if they be Left of the greate and almost inVincible help of his precedent Nature. Consider hoW great a feblenes holdes Wicked men, for nether can they gett light and Vayne rewardes which they can Not obtayne, but fayles in the Top of height, and height of all. Neither does good effecte hap to the Wretched, euen the same that Night and day they seeKe. And yet in self same thing We see, the good mens strenghth excell. for as a Man that Walkes to that place Whence chefely he Wold13 can com, being such as has no Way beyond: Woldst thou Not think him best footeman? so shoulst thou think him Mightyest that can comprehend the14 end beyond Which no furder is. Wherby it haps that Who contrary is, the same by be Wic Wicked and Weake of all strength. for Why doo they folloW Vice LeaVing Vertue behind them? for ignorance of good? but what is more feeble than ignorance blyndnes? but they KnoW What folloW they ought but their Lust doth ouerthroW them. so doth intemperance the frayle men that in Vice be delited. but Wittingly and knoWing do they LeaVe that is good, And15 so bend them to Vice? This Waye, not only Without poWre, but they LeaVe to be, for they that forsake the common end of all thinges that be, They leave themselves to be. Which may seeme strange to Men, that euill men functioning of their virtues). In early modern English, the most frequent rendering of “officium” is ‘duty.’ the other . . . greatest good “mali vero variam per cupiditatem, quod adipiscendi boni naturale officium non est, idem ipsum conantur adipisci” (but evil men try to obtain the very same [good] through their mutable desire, which is not the natural function for obtaining the good). Elizabeth here construes “officium” as ‘beneficial service,’ hence ‘gift,’ and fits the rest to this sense. scattered discomposed; “varium.” will wish to. 12. ought An early modern homonym of “oft.” See n39 below. 13. Wold In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank reads “Will.” 14. the In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank reads “that.” 15. And Omitted by Windebank in the duplicated portion of book 4. 39. discoursed . . . o[f]t discoursed “praecurris” (you run ahead). o[f]t Windebank reads “ought.” Boethius’s “solent” (are accustomed to) suggests that the correct reading here is “oft,” a homonym of “ought” in early modern English; see E. J. Dobson, English Pronunciation, 1500–1700, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 1:402.

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“No,” quoth I, “for that is plain that follows. For hereby may we gather that I granted afore: good men to be mighty, and ill men weak.” “Rightly hast thou discoursed; and so, as physicians o[f]t39 do hope, that it is a sign of a healthy and resisting nature. But, for that I see thee readiest to understand, I will heap up many reasons. Behold, how great a weakness is there appears in vicious men that cannot obtain that to which their natural intent leads and well nigh compels. And what if they be left of the great and almost invincible help of his precedent Nature?40 Consider how great a feebleness holds wicked men. For neither can they get light and vain rewards, which they cannot obtain,41 but fails in the top of height; neither does good effect hap to the wretched, even the same that, night and day, they seek. And yet in selfsame thing we see the good men’s strength excel. For, as a man that walks to that place whence chiefly he would come, being such as has no way beyond, wouldst thou not think him best footman?42 So shouldst thou think him mightiest that can comprehend the end, beyond which no further is. Whereby it haps that, who contrary is, the same be wicked, and weak of all strength. For why do they follow vice, leaving virtue behind them? For ignorance of good? But what is more feeble than ignorance’ blindness? But they know what follow they ought, but their lust doth overthrow them; so doth intemperance the frail men that in vice be delighted.43 But wittingly, and knowing, do they leave that is good, and so bend them to vice? This way, not only without power, but they leave to be: for they that forsake the common end of all things that be, they leave, themselves, to be.

40. left . . . Nature left of deserted by. of his . . . Nature “praeeuntis naturae” (of nature that leads the way). his This pronoun has no analogue in the Latin, and its antecedent is uncertain. Elizabeth probably employed “his” generically, in the sense of ‘man’s,’ though she may have intended a reference to God, adding Christianizing implications of grace and salvation to Boethius’s conception of a benevolent Nature. 41. For . . . obtain For . . . rewards “Neque enim levia aut ludicra praemia petunt” (For neither trifles nor playthings are the things they seek as rewards). obtain “consequi atque obtinere” (gain and hold). 42. such . . . footman? such . . . beyond “quo nihil ulterius pervium iaceret incessui” (so distant that no passageway lay beyond his tread). footman? Only Pulmann’s 1562 edition treats this phrase as a question. 43. in . . . delighted Elizabeth evidently recognized that Pulmann’s reading, “oblectari vitio nequeunt” (are unable to be delighted in vice), was corrupt. Apparently assuming that a “non” had been omitted from a double negative construction, she produced her

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(that many be) We shall Not say to be, but so the case standeth. for they that euill be I deny nether them not to be yll but I deny that they be purely or simply. for as We call a Carcas, a dead man, symply we can not call not him man, so Vicious men We graunte them to be yll, but absolutely to be, that can we Not confesse. For there is in N he that keepes the order of Nature and retaynes, ther is that that Keps and retaynes Natures order, Ther is that fayles from that,16 and leaves that in ther Nature is grafted. But thou Wilt say, Yll men may doo, nether can I denye. But this poWre to doo coms Not of force, but of Weaknes. for they can doo all Which they should not doo, if they Wold remayn in their Creation of good. which possibilitie to doo, In Not dooing they shewes they can doo nothing. for yf as we haue gatherd afore, euill be nothing, When but only the yll they can doo, Wicked men can doo nothing. Thats playne. And that you may Vnderstand What is the force in of this poWre, We haue defynd afore, that nothing is fuller of force than the greatest good. but that can not the Wicked doo. but What man is it that thinkes man can doo all? None but a Mad man Will so think, And that the same can doo yll to, Wold god they could Not quoth I, When then he is Mightest that can do all good, and Mightyest Man in yll, can not such thinges obtayne, then is it playne: that they can lest doo that be Wicked. And so it haps, that rightly We haue showed, all poWre to consist in thinges to be obtaynd; And all such referd to greatest good, as to the cheefest good top of Natures best. but possibilitie of Wicked acte can not be refered to good. desyrd therfore it ought Not be, and all poWer is to be desyrd, It folloWes therfore: Possibilitie of euill men is n No poWre. By all Which, the poWre of good men plainly Appeers and Makes Vndouted the Weaknes of Wicked Men, Veryfyeing PLatoes

positive counterpart. All other editions consulted read “obluctari vitio nequeunt” (are unable to struggle against vice). 16. that In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank reads “this.” 44. For . . . grafted “Est enim quod ordinem retinet servatque naturam; quod vero ab hac deficit, esse etiam, quod in sua natura situm est, derelinquit” (For that exists, which keeps to order and preserves its nature; but whatever fails to do this, ceases its existence, which is dependent on its nature). 45. may do “possunt” (can do, have power). do accomplish, execute. 46. (to . . . doing) Elizabeth adds this paradoxical gloss to “possibilitas,” emphasizing Boethius’s previous and subsequent point: that to do evil is to do nothing.

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“Which may seem strange to men, that evil men (that many be) we shall not say to be; but so the case standeth. For they that evil be, I deny them not to be ill; but I deny that they be, purely or simply. For, as we call a carcass a dead man, simply we cannot call him man: so, vicious men, we grant them to be ill, but absolutely to be, that can we not confess. For there is that, that keeps and retains Nature’s order; there is that, fails from that, and leaves that in their nature is grafted.44 But thou wilt say, ‘Ill men may do’;45 neither can I deny. But this power to do comes not of force, but of weakness. For they can do all which they should not do, if they would remain in their creation of good. Which possibility (to do in not doing)46 shows they can do nothing. For if, as we have gathered afore, evil be nothing; when but only the ill they can do, wicked men can do nothing.” “That’s plain.” “And, that you may understand what is the force of this power, we have defined afore, that nothing is fuller of force than the greatest good. But that cannot the wicked do. But what man is it that thinks man can do all?” “None but a madman will so think.” “And that the same can do ill too?”47 “Would God they could not,” quoth I. “When, then, He is mightiest that can do all good,48 and mightiest men in ill cannot such things obtain, then is it plain that they can least do, that be wicked. And so it haps that rightly we have showed all power to consist in things to be obtained:49 and all such referred to greatest good, as to the top of Nature’s best. But possibility of wicked act cannot be referred to good; desired, therefore, it ought not be; and all power is to be desired. It follows, therefore, possibility of evil men50 is no power. By all which, the power of good men plainly appears, and makes undoubted the weakness of wicked men, verifying Plato’s

47. “And . . . too?” Elizabeth replaces a declarative sentence with a rhetorical question. And that “Atqui” (Yet). the same i.e., man. 48. can . . . good “bonorum tantummodo potens” (capable only of good actions). 49. rightly . . . obtained rightly Elizabeth’s addition. to consist . . . obtained “inter expetenda numeranda” (is to be reckoned among desirable things). to . . . obtained that ought to be obtained. 50. evil men “malorum,” which can mean ‘evil men’ but in this context probably means ‘evil doings.’

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sentence to be true, that only Wise Men can performe, that they desyre to doo. but Wicked men vse only that they Will, but What they most desyre can Not obtayne. for they doo certain thinges, in which delyting they suppose the haue obtaynd the good that they desyre. but obtayne it they can Not, for reproche neuer coms to blisse 2. M[yter]. 17 Thos Wiche you se as Kings s Sit in the18 top of hiest Seat Florishing with purple fayre Inuirond With dreadfuL armes With ireful Looke that thretes for hartz yre Wanting scant draWing brethe If any take from Wicked men Of false honor the Couer Within shaL se thes19 Lordz Straightned Giues to beare hither Lust them drawes hire ire ther myndz afflictz Who sturred raiseth stormes SoroW or the taken Wers20 Or Slippar hopes tourment Wherfor Whan One hed So many tirantz beares He doth not that he Wold Prest With so Wicked Lordz

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17. 2. M[yter] A first text of meter 2, on fol. 52r, is in Windebank’s italic hand. A second, on fol. 57r, is in Elizabeth’s hand; it is keyed to its proper location by the following note in Windebank’s secretary hand: “This is before in his due place.” We reproduce Elizabeth’s autograph text of this poem. 18. Sit . . . the In the duplicate portion of book 4, Windebank reads “Set in.” 19. thes In the duplicate portion of book 4, Windebank reads “their.” 20. Wers wears, i.e., fatigues; “fatigat.” In the duplicate portion of book 4, Windebank reads “Weares.” 51. Plato’s sentence In Gorgias 507C. 52. use . . . will “exercere . . . quod libeat” (perform what pleases them).

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sentence51 to be true, That only wise men can perform that they desire to do; but wicked men use only that they will,52 but what they most desire cannot obtain. For they do certain things, in which delighting, they suppose they have obtained the good that they desire. But obtain it they cannot, for reproach never comes to bliss.” Meter 2 53 Those which you see as kings Sit in the top of highest seat, Flour’shing with purple fair, Environed with dreadful arms, With ireful look that threats, For heart’s ire, scant drawing breath: If any take from wicked men,54 Of false honor, the cover, Within, shall see these lords Straitened gyves55 to bear. Hither lust them draws;56 Here ire their minds afflicts, Who, stirrèd, raiseth storms: Sorrow, or the taken wears,57 Or slipper hopes torment. Wherefore, when one head So many tyrants bears, He doth not that he would, Pressed with so wicked lords.

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53. Meter 2 Modern editions print this Latin lyric as ten four-foot lines. Pulmann and all other Renaissance editions consulted form two-foot lines by dividing at the caesura, as Elizabeth does. 54. from . . . men “superbis” (from [these] proud [kings]). 55. Straitened gyves Close-binding chains. 56. Hither . . . draws “Hinc enim libido versat” (Hence desire disturbs them). Elizabeth does not translate the next line (in Renaissance lineation): “Avidis corda venenis” (Their hearts with poisonous greed). 57. Sorrow . . . wears Either sorrow fatigues those captured (by their passions). the taken Like all other sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “captos” (the captives).

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3. Prose. Sh See you Not in What a great sLowe,21 Wicked thinges be Wrapt in, and With how great a light, godlynes shynes, by Which tis pLayne that Neuer reward Wants to good, nor punishment to Wicked folke. for it is No Wrong, that of thinges don, that be ich reward for Which ech thing is don, As a Runner in a race has a guarland for Which he ran, in reWarde. but We haue shewed hoW blisse is that self good, for Which all thinges be don, Then it folloWes, that the only good is sett as the Vniuersall reward to Men. And this from good men can not be deuided, for nether can he be Justly cald a good man by right, that Wantith true good. Therfore good conditions can Neuer Want rewarde. for though euill men afflicte them, a Wise Mans garland shall not fall nor Wither. for other mens Wickednes can Not pluck away the true honor from honest myndes. for yf he reioyce at ough ought received from outward meane, Somm other man or he that gaue it Might all talk taKe it awaye. but because Godlynes it self suffisith, Then shall he Want reward, When he LeaVes so to be. Lastly, since all rewarde is therfore desyrd, because it is beleeuid good, Who can think an honest man, Without rewarde. but of of what? of that that is fayrest and greatest / Remember this breefe that a little afore I gaue you to be the cheefest, and so conclude, When the greatest good22 is blisfulnes, they must Needes be happy that are good, because they are so. And they that be happy, Must needes be lyke to god. Therfore good mens rewardes be is such As neyther Any day drawes away, nor poWre minish, nor Ire darken, but lyke to him they bee, Which being true, No Wise man may doute of the Wicked mans inseparable payne,

21. What . . . sLowe What . . . great In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank reads “in how great.” sLowe slough; “caeno” (mire). 22. good In the duplicate portion of book 4, Windebank has written “God,” which is corrected to “good” in Elizabeth’s hand. 58. godliness Here and later in prose 3, Elizabeth Christianizes Boethius’s classical virtue of “probitas” (moral uprightness) by translating it twice as “godliness” and once as “piety”; at other points she uses the more accurate “sincerity” and “honesty.” In book 3, prose 5, she translates “probitas” as “virtue.” 59. it . . . done it . . . wrong Simplifies Boethius’s litotes: “esse non iniuria videri potest” (cannot wrongly be regarded as). that be . . . done the reason for which anything is done is its reward; “illud propter quod unaquaeque res geritur, eiusdem rei praemium esse.” 60. self same; “idem.”

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Prose 3 “See you not in what a great slough, wicked things be wrapped in; and with how great a light, godliness58 shines? By which, ’tis plain, that never reward wants to good, nor punishment to wicked folk. For it is no wrong that, of things done, that be each reward for which each thing is done:59 as a runner in a race hath a garland for which he ran, in reward. But we have showed how bliss is that self60 good for which all things be done. Then it follows that the only good is set as the universal reward to men. And this from good men cannot be divided, for neither can he be justly called a good man by right, that wanteth true good. Therefore, good conditions can never want reward. For, though evil men afflict them,61 a wise man’s garland shall not fall nor wither. For other men’s wickedness cannot pluck away the true honor from honest minds. For if he rejoice at aught received from outward mean, some other man, or he that gave it, might take it away. But because godliness itself sufficeth, then shall he want reward, when he leaves so to be.62 Lastly, since all reward is therefore desired because it is believed good, who can think an honest man without reward? But of what? Of that that is fairest and greatest. Remember this brief that, a little afore,63 I gave you to be the chiefest, and so conclude: When the greatest good is blissfulness, they must needs be happy that are good, because they are so. And they that be happy, must needs be like to God.64 Therefore, good men’s reward is such as neither any day draws away, nor power minish, nor ire darken; but like to Him they be.65 Which, being true, no wise man may doubt of the wicked man’s inseparable pain.

61. afflict them “saeviant” (may rage). 62. leaves . . . be ceases to be (godly). 63. brief . . . afore brief A short statement of something that might be more fully treated; “corollarii” (corollary), which can have much the same sense as “brief ” in this context. afore A reference to book 3, prose 10, where the triple identity of goodness, happiness, and God was demonstrated. 64. must . . . God “deos esse convenit” (it is agreed that they are gods). Elizabeth’s addition of “like” and her singular “God” bring Boethius’s assertion more closely in line with Christian orthodoxy. 65. minish . . . be minish diminish. ire “improbitas” (wickedness). like . . . be Elizabeth here tones down “deos fieri” (become gods).

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for Where both good and yll, payne and reward be crosse one to an other, it folloWes that such reward as hapts as haps to goodnes, the same Must needes be of contrary sorte, for payne of Wicked. for as sinceritie to the honest is rewarde, so to the Wicked sorte their own23 Vnhappynes is their plage, So as Who euer is punisht Must needes be Wicked. Yf therfore they Wold Way Well themselves and can they suppose them Voyde of payne, Whose Wickdnes in al ylls not only touchith them, but greeVously infectes. See on thother syde, such parte as is to the good, contrary, What payne doth folloW them. I haue taught you afore that all that is, Must be one, And that the only good is one. Then it foLLoWes, That t What so that is that seemes to be good. Then Whosoeuer faylith from that good, he leaVes to be, so that When euill they be, they leave to be that they Were; but to to prove that men they Were, the forme of their humayne body shewith, but turned into Malice, they haue left their humayne nature. And since that true pietie alone May lift Vp a man, it folloWes that Whom wickednes hath throWen doWne from state of Man, hath cast him doWne beneth the Merit of Man, So it haps that Whom transformed thou seest with vice, thou Mayst not suppose him a Man. The VioLent Robber of others goodes is farVent in his robberyes, swellith in coueting, and Mayst call him WoolflyKe, feerce and contentious, exercises his tongue in bralles, then euin lyke a dog, The secret Lurker Joyes With fraude to catche, And so is foxlyKe, Vntemperate in Ire he chafith, and men beleeue him a Lyar, but fearfull and flyeing, fearith and dredith that needes not, And he to deere is compared, The sLuggy and dullard Languishith and Lyke An Ass doth lyVe. The Light and Vnconstant man, changes his intentes, and differs so Nought from the byrdes, And is pLunged in filthy and Vncleane

23. own Windebank’s restoration of “oWne” in the duplicated portion of book 4 makes no difference to the sense. Since Elizabeth’s intention regarding this variant in his copy is unclear, we have left our modern-spelling text unaltered. 66. cross opposed, opposite. 67. sincerity . . . wicked sincerity “probitas.” honest virtuous, upright; “probis.” must . . . wicked “malo se affectum esse non dubitat” (does not doubt that he is afflicted with evil). 68. on . . . contrary “ex adversa parte bonorum” (on the opposite side, that of good men). Boethius suggests that the pain of the wicked can best be understood by contrast with the situation of the good. Elizabeth obscures the point by taking the continuing focus to be on evil.

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“For where both good and ill, pain and reward, be cross66 one to another, it follows that such reward as haps to goodness, the same must needs be of contrary sort, for pain of wicked. For, as sincerity to the honest is reward, so to the wicked their unhappiness is their plague: so as, whoever is punished must needs be wicked.67 If, therefore, they would weigh well themselves, can they suppose them void of pain, whose wickedness in all ills not only toucheth them, but grievously infects? See, on the other side, such part as is to the good contrary,68 what pain doth follow them. I have taught you afore that all that is, must be one, and that the only good is one. Then it follows: whatso that is, that seems to be good. Then, whosoever faileth from that good, he69 leaves to be: so that, when evil they be, they leave to be that they were. But, to prove that men they were, the form of their human body showeth; but, turned into malice, they have left their human nature. And since that true piety alone may lift up a man,70 it follows, that whom wickedness hath thrown down from state of man, hath cast him down beneath the merit of man. So it haps that, whom transformed thou seest with vice, thou mayst not suppose him a man. The violent robber of others’ good is fervent in his robberies, swelleth in coveting, and mayst call him wolflike. Fierce and contentious, exercises his tongue in brawls, even like a dog. The secret lurker joys with fraud to catch, and so is foxlike. Untemperate in ire he chafeth; and men believe him a li[on].71 But, fearful and flying, feareth and dreadeth that needs not,72 and he to deer is compared. The sluggy and dullard languisheth, and like an ass doth live. The light and unconstant man changes his intents, and differs so, naught, from the birds. And is plunged in filthy and unclean lusts, and is kept in the delight of his own73 lewdness. And so it haps, that he that forsaketh

69. whosoever . . . he “quiquid” (whatever). Elizabeth narrows the focus from created things to human beings. 70. true . . . man “ultra homines quemque provehere sola probitas possit” (only goodness can raise anyone beyond men / humankind). Elizabeth leaves “ultra homines” untranslated, again palliating the exaltation of virtuous humans to divine status. 71. li[on] Windebank must have misheard Elizabeth’s “lion” as “liar,” which he wrote. Boethius reads “leonis.” 72. feareth . . . not Elaborates “non metuenda formidat” (fears what is not fearful). 73. his own Boethius reads “suis” (of a swine), which Elizabeth confuses with its homonym, the third-person reflexive pronoun “suis.” She correctly translates a form of “sus” (swine) in prose 4 below.

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Lustes, And is kept in the delyte of his owne Lewdnes. And so it is haps, that he that LeaVing forsakyth honesty n leaues to be a man, for not to be able to attayne a dyuine state, is tournid to the bestly. 3. M[yter] Ulisses Captaines Sailes And Sailing Shippes in Sea Eurus to ILand broght, The Goddis fear24 as Sitting As borne of Φebus Line To her neWe Gestz The Charmed Cup doth Giue, Wiche as in diuers Sortz herbes rular Gides her hand This man the boRes Snout do couer Another the MarmiCan lion With Tuske and paW indueth This Like to the Wolfe nV borne Whan Wepe he Wold he houles Another As Indian tTiGar Walkes in his house as mild Thogh Winged Mercury God from many eveLz saVed The Winged ArCadian God Pitying the besiged Captaine from Gestz plague preserVed Yet Wicked Cup the SaiLars With mouthes Lickt Supte Vp And SWin Changed Ceres corne

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24. fear fair. 74. honesty integrity in the most general sense; “probitas.” 75. Ulysses’ . . . Eurus Ulysses’ . . . sea “Vela Neritii ducis / Et vagas pelago rates” (The Neritian commander’s sails / And his ships wandering in the sea). The epithet, referring to the mountain Neritos in Ithaca, Ulysses’ homeland, is Ovid’s creation (Fasti 4.69). Ulysses’s (captain’s) Captain Ulysses’. Eurus the Southeast wind. 76. The . . . As “Pulchra qua residens dea” (Where the beautiful goddess dwells). goddess fair Circe, daughter of the Sun and of Persé, daughter of Oceanus. sitting Elizabeth probably construed “residens” in the sense of ‘sitting’ (in state), but she may also have intended “sitting” in the sense of ‘dwelling.’ As “qua” (where), which Elizabeth construes

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honesty74 leaves to be a man; for, not to be able to attain a divine state, is turned to the beastly.”

Meter 3 Ulysses’ (captain’s) sails, And sailing ships in sea, Eurus75 to island brought. The goddess fair, sitting (As76 born of Phoebus’ line), To her new guests The charmèd cup doth give, Which, as in divers sorts, Herbs’ ruler guides her hand:77 This man the boar’s snout do cover, Another, the Marmican lion With tusk and paw78 endueth. This, like to the wolf newborn, When weep he would, he howls. Another, as Indian tiger, Walks in his house as mild. Though, from many evils, The winged Arcadian god,79 Pitying the besiegèd captain, From guests’ plague preserved, Yet wicked cup the sailors With mouths supped up; And, swine, changed Ceres’s corn

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in its alternative sense of ‘as, in the manner of ’ and takes with Boethius’s next line giving Circe’s genealogy. 77. as . . . hand “ut in varios modos / Vertit herbipotens manus” (As her herb-mighty hand changes [the sailors] into various shapes). Elizabeth’s loose rendering evidently construes “herbipotens” (“Herbs’ ruler”) as the subject and “manus” (“hand”) as the object. in . . . sorts Elizabeth’s rendering of “in varios modos” might mean ‘in different ways’ or, taking “sort” in its early modern sense of one’s personal ‘fate’ or ‘lot,’ ‘unto different fates.’ 78. Marmican . . . paw Marmican of Marmarica, to the west of Egypt—a general poetic term for ‘African.’ With . . . paw “Dente . . . et unguibus” (with tooth and nails). 79. Arcadian god Hermes / Mercury, born in Arcadia.

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for foode of Acorne chosen TO Lost men naught remained Of body nor of Voyce Only ther mynd StabeL aboue Whan the monstars suffar Wailes O hand to Wike nor herbes of poWer Thogh Limmes to Change Hartz yet alter may not Whithein bides man strengh Hid in his toWre Thos Venoms With more fors Man from himselfe Withdrawes Who though the body hurt not With Wound the SouLe hurtz hurtes so The Soule With Woundz assailes.

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4. Pr[ose] I see quoth I, that vicious men haue no Wrong, tho they be said by property of their Mynde to beastes be transformd, tho in shoW they Kepe the forme of humayn body. Y And yet I wold Not haue that the cruell and Wicked mynde should be sharpnid shortned by the fall of good Men. Neyther is it quoth she, as in conVenyent place I Will shoWe, And yet if that Were taken aWay from them: that they are beleeued to haue the Wickedst payne, should be in greatest parte releeuid. for that that may perchance seeme impossible, hit must needes be that Wicked men be Vnhappyer When they haue fulfild their desyres, than if they could Not get What they Wish. for if a Wretched thing it be, to Wish that is Nought it is Much more Wretched

80. And, swine . . . chosen The sailors, turned into swine by Circe, exchanged corn (American ‘wheat’) for acorns. The Romans used acorns as winter fodder for pigs and cattle. 81. stable . . . wails “stabilis super / Monstra quae patitur gemit” (firm above [this fate] / Bemoans the monstrous forms it endures). Elizabeth translates as if the object “monstra,” rather than “mens” (mind), were the subject in “Monstra quae patitur.” 82. nor . . . change A contorted but literal rendering of “Nec potentia gramina / Membra quae valeant licet / . . . vertere” (Nor potent herbs, although they have the power to change limbs).

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For food of acorn, chos’n;80 To lost men, naught remained Of body nor of voice. Only their mind, stable above, When the monsters suffer, wails.81 O hand too weak; nor herbs of pow’r, Though limbs to change,82 Hearts yet alter may not. Within bides man’ strength, Hid in his tow’r. Those venoms with more force Man from himself withdraws:83 Who, though the body not, The soul with wound assails.

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Prose 4 “I see,” quoth I, “that vicious men have no wrong, though they be said, by property of their mind, to beasts be transformed, though in show they keep the form of human body. And yet I would not have that the cruel and wicked mind should be sharpened by the fall of good men.”84 “Neither is it,” quoth she, “as in convenient place I will show. And yet, if that were taken away from them, that they are believed to have, the wickedest’ pain should be in greatest part relieved. For that, that may perchance seem impossible, it must needs be that wicked men be unhappier, when they have fulfilled their desires, than if they could not get what they wish. For if a wretched thing it be to wish that is naught, it is much more wretched to do it, without which,85 the desire

83. withdraws “detrahunt” (drag down). Elizabeth does not translate the next line, “Dira quae penitus meant” (Dire they that deep within do move). 84. that . . . men “quorum atrox scelerataque mens bonorum pernicie saevit, id ipsum eis licere” (that those, whose savage and wicked mind rages for the destruction of the good, were allowed such destruction). 85. to do . . . which “potuisse . . . sine quo” (to have acquired the ability to do . . . without which).

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to doo it. Without which, the desyre of a Wretched Mynde, Wold fall. Wherfore when ech man hath his oWn Misery, It must needes be, that by tryple Misfortune, they be Vexed, Whom thou dost see haue a Will to doo the Worst. I graunt it quoth I. And yet that quickly they might Want this misfortune, I Wish them depriued of possibilitie to doo mischeefe. They shall Want it quoth she, sooner perchaunce than eyther thou Woldest, or they themselves think they may, for neyther is any thing so Long in the short mesure of our Lyfe, that An An immortall mynde may suppose to tarry to Longe, Whose greate hope on hye and hye Woork of Mischefe, oft is destroyde by an Vnlookt for and A souden end. Which settes An end to their Misery. for if iniquitie make Men Miserable, he Must be More Wicked that Longer Lastes, Whom Most Vnhappy I should Judge if their Last death might Not end their Woe. for if we conclude the truth, of Wickednes misfortune, infinite must we suppose that Misery that is euerLasting. Wonderfull thinges quoth I, is this decLaration and hard to be graunted, but I KnoW them to Well agree to such thinges as before haue bene exprest. Rightly dost thou think quoth she, And Who so thinkes a hard conclusion is made he must needes it Were reson he should shoWe, that ther hath bene som falshod in the proposition, or that the tyeng of their argument bootith not for a necessary conclusion, Or els all the abouesaid graunted, ther is no cause to cauill in the subsequent. for this that I saye, Not only seems not Wonderfull, but of by suche thinges As are alledged, Most necessary. What quoth I, I saye that happyer be Wicked men When they suffer punishment, than those Whom no payne of Justice touchith. Nether mynd I now to speak of that every man thinkes, That Wicked conditions being corrected by Revenge and brought to the right Way by terrour of their prison to other men may serue for example to shun theyr faultes. But in other sorte I suppose the Wicked Vnhappy, tho ther Were no cause

86. when . . . worst when . . . misery “cum sua singulis miseria sit” (since each of these—i.e., conditions—has its wretchedness). have . . . worst “scelus velle, posse, perficere” (wish to do, are able to do, and actually do evil). Elizabeth renders the force of the first verb phrase only. 87. he . . . lasts “miserior sit necesse est diuturnior nequam” (he must be more wretched who is wicked for longer).

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of a wretched mind would fall. Wherefore, when each man hath his own misery, it must needs be that by triple misfortune they be vexed, whom thou dost see have a will to do the worst.”86 “I grant it,” quoth I. “And yet, that quickly they might want this misfortune, I wish them deprived of possibility to do mischief.” “They shall want it,” quoth she, “sooner, perchance, than either thou wouldest, or they themselves think they may. For neither is anything so long in the short measure of our life, that an immortal mind may suppose to tarry too long: whose great hope and high work of mischief oft is destroyed by an unlooked-for and sudden end, which sets an end to their misery. For if iniquity make men miserable, he must be more wicked that longer lasts:87 whom most unhappy I should judge, if their last death might not end their woe. For, if we conclude the truth of wickedness’ misfortune, infinite must we suppose that misery that is everlasting.” “Wonderful things,” quoth I, “is this declaration,88 and hard to be granted; but I know them to well agree to such things as before have been expressed.” “Rightly dost thou think,” quoth she. “And whoso thinks a hard conclusion is made, it were reason he should show that there hath been some falsehood in the proposition, or that the tying of their argument booteth not for a necessary conclusion. Or else, all the abovesaid granted, there is no cause to cavil in the subsequent.89 For this that I say, not only seems not wonderful,90 but, by such things as are alleged, most necessary.” “What?” quoth I. “I say that happier be wicked men when they suffer punishment, than those whom no pain of justice toucheth. Neither mind I now to speak of, that every man thinks: that wicked conditions, being corrected by revenge and brought to the right way by terror of their prison,91 to other men may serve for example to shun their faults. But in other sort I suppose the wicked unhappy, though there were no

88. declaration exposition, explanation; “inlatio” (inference). 89. cavil . . . subsequent object to the thing that follows—here, the conclusion. 90. I . . . wonderful “quod dicam non minus mirum videatur” (that which I am going to say may seem no less wonderful). 91. of . . . prison “supplicii” (of punishment).

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of correction to make them Vnpunished, nor no respect of ensample, What should this other way be? haue We not said afore, that good men be lucky and euill men miserable? So it is, Yf therfore som goodnes chaunce to misery, is it not Much more happyer for him than if his misery Were alone by it self, Without Any goodnes mixture. So it seemes quoth I. But But what and yf to that Miserable man that Wantes all good thinges, that euill be added to him to be alone, is he not Much more to be Accompted Vnhappy the Whose Mysfortune is showed him thoroW the Participation of som good? What els? Therfore Wicked men, When they are punisht, haue som good joyned with it, that is Their punishment, Which for Justice sake, is in it self good. And they Whan they Want their correction, ther is som thing besides of euill euill, Which is Want of Punishment, Which deserueably thy self hast confest is the greatest yll, Iniquitie can haue. More Vnhappy therfore are Wicked folkes, Whan they Want their punishment, than When they receaue their mist iust reward. for greatest iniquitie is committed When Wicked Just men be Vexed, and Wicked men sLip from their reWard. Who can this denye? wherfore

92. unhappy . . . unpunished “infeliciores . . . impunitos, tametsi nulla ratio correctionis” (more unhappy if unpunished, even if there were no account taken of correction). no . . . unpunished “Unpunished” presumably comprises an emphatic double negative with “no cause.” The gist, then, is “even if there were no reason to correct them by punishment.” 93. to be alone . . . good? to be alone to be evil alone, without goodness. Elizabeth substitutes this phrase for Boethius’s qualification of the added evil as “praeter ea quibus miser est” (in addition to those evils by which he is made wretched). In making the substitution, her eye evidently skipped to a phrase three lines earlier in Pulmann’s edition, “pura ac solitaria” (without addition and alone), which she had translated as “alone by itself.” Here she retranslates it. is he . . . good? Elizabeth follows Pulmann’s 1562 puzzling reading “nonne multo infelicior eo censendus est cuius infortunium boni participatione revelatur?” (must he not be judged much more unhappy than he whose misfortune is revealed by participation in the good?); “revelatur” (is revealed) was corrected in 1580 to “relevatur” (is relieved, lightened)—the standard reading in Renaissance and modern

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cause of correction to make them unpunished,92 nor no respect of example.” “What should this other way be?” “Have we not said afore, that good men be lucky, and evil men miserable?” “So it is.” “If, therefore, some goodness chance to misery, is it not much more happier for him, than if his misery were alone by itself, without any goodness’ mixture?” “So it seems,” quoth I. “But if to that miserable man that wants all good things, that evil be added to him, to be alone, is he not much more to be accounted unhappy whose misfortune is showed him through the participation of some good?”93 “What else?” “Therefore, wicked men, when they are punished, have some good joined with it, that is, their punishment, which for justice’ sake is in itself good. And they, when they want their correction, there is something, besides, of evil, which is, want of punishment which, deserveably (thyself hast confessed), is the greatest ill iniquity can have.94 More unhappy, therefore, are wicked folks when they want their punishment, than when they receive their just reward. For greatest iniquity is committed, when just men be vexed, and wicked slip from their reward.”95 “Who can this deny?”

texts. whose misfortune i.e., than he whose misfortune. Either Elizabeth or Windebank omitted the “than” necessary for the sense. Elizabeth may have hewed too closely to the Latin, which uses an ablative rather than “quam” (than). Alternatively, Windebank, who first wrote and then crossed out a “the” before “whose misfortune,” may have neglected to replace “the” with the correct term, “than.” 94. deserveably . . . have “iniquitatis merito malum esse confessus es” (which you have admitted is evil by reason of its injustice). Elizabeth misconstrues the postclassical construction “merito” + genitive (by reason of) as ‘deservedly.’ She also omits the following expression of agreement by Boethius the speaker. 95. For . . . reward “Sed puniri improbos iustum, impunitos vero elabi iniquum esse manifestum est” (But it is evidently just for the wicked to be punished, and unjust for them to escape unpunished). The next three sentences are in the order given them in the manuscript tradition and in all Renaissance editions consulted. Some modern texts relocate these lines earlier in prose 3.

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ech man Must Needes graunte, that all that is good, must needes be iust, and yll, that is the contrary. These be such thinges needes must folloW the Aboue concluded. but I pray the quoth I, shall there be No soules punishment after the dead body. Very greate quoth quoth I she, of Which som be Vsed by bitter paynes, other by a Pacifieng Clemency. but NoW My Mynde is, a little of these thinges to dispute. for this hitherto We haue don, that thou Mightest knoWe the Vnworthy W poWre of euill men is none at all, Euin such as thou compLaynedst Were Voyde of punishment, that thou Mightest see they neuer Want the payne of their Wickednes. And that the liberty Which thou Wisshest should be ended, thou Mightest learne not to be long, And so much mor Vnhappy, if Longer, most Vnlucky, yf eternall. And then I sayd that Wicked folkes Were More Miserable shunning their Just payne, than punisht With Just their right revenge. So folloWes it true with my opinion, That then they are greeuid With sorest punishmentes, Whan they are supposd Less pLagued. Whan I consider thy reasons said I, I can suppose nothing More true. But if I turne Me to Mans Judgement, Who is he to Whom not only these thinges Will not seeme to be beleevid, but scarely25 to be herd. So it is quoth she, for they can Not that haue vsed their eyes to darknes, lyft them vp to the light of a cleere trowth, and lyke they be to such byrdes Whose sight the night dooth cleere and day darkens. for While they beholde not the order of thinges but their oWn affections, they suppose the Liberty and Lack of payne, for their faultes, the happiest. but noW LooKe What the euerLasting light supposith makith. Yf to best thou doo apply thy mynde, thou shalt neede No iudge to defer thy rewarde, Thou thy self has ioyned the to the Excellency. Yf thou turn thy indeuors to Worsse, beyond thy selfe seeke no revenger.

25. scarely A penslip for “scarcely.” 96. all . . . contrary Boethius instead makes the point that all that is just is good, all that is unjust bad. Elizabeth omits “Liquere, respondi” (I replied that that was clear), which in Pulmann’s edition awkwardly appears immediately before another expression of agreement by Boethius the speaker. 97. pacifying . . . dispute pacifying clemency “purgatoria clementia” (purifying clemency). Commentators debate whether the phrase evokes the doctrine of purgatory propounded by patristic predecessors of Boethius or whether it refers to the discussion of punishment as correction in the afterlife in Plato’s Gorgias 525B, which is the major source

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“Wherefore, each man must needs grant, that all that is good must needs be just; and ill, that is the contrary.”96 “These be such things, needs must follow the above-concluded. But, I pray thee,” quoth I, “shall there be no souls’ punishment after the dead body?” “Very great,” quoth she; “of which, some be used by bitter pains, other by a pacifying clemency. But now my mind is, a little of these things to dispute.97 For this, hitherto, we have done, that thou mightst know the unworthy98 power of evil men is none at all, even such as thou complainedst were void of punishment, that thou mightst see they never want the pain of their wickedness. And that the liberty, which thou wishest should be ended, thou mightst learn not to be long; and so much more unhappy, if longer; most unlucky, if eternal. And then I said that wicked folks were more miserable, shunning their just pain, than punished with their right revenge. So follows it true with my opinion, that then they are grieved with sorest punishments, when they are supposed less plagued.” “When I consider thy reasons,” said I, “I can suppose nothing more true. But if I turn me to man’s judgment, who is he, to whom not only these things will not seem to be believed, but scarcely to be heard?” “So it is,” quoth she. “For they cannot, that have used their eyes to darkness, lift them up to the light of a clear truth: and like they be to such birds, whose sight the night doth clear, and day darkens. For, while they behold not the order of things, but their own affections, they suppose the liberty and lack of pain for their faults, the happiest. But now look what the everlasting light99 maketh. If to best thou do apply thy mind, thou shalt need no judge to defer thy reward; thou thyself hast joined thee to the excellency. If thou turn thy endeavors

for Boethius’s discussion of punishment overall. Elizabeth may have avoided translating “purgatoria” with cognates like “purgatory” or “purgatorial” that would have evoked a Roman Catholic doctrine rejected by the Church of England. clemency Elizabeth omits Philosophy’s qualifier, “puto” (I think), which immediately follows. But . . . dispute “Sed nunc de his disserere consilium non est” (But my intention is not to discuss these things now). 98. unworthy “indignissima” (most unworthy, inappropriate, shameful). 99. light “lex” (law). Influenced by the preceding imagery of light and darkness, Elizabeth read “lex” as “lux.”

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Thou thy self to Worst hast throWen the, and Lookest to heauen and cLayey earth by fittes, When all outward thinges fayles the by thyne oWne reason shalt26 perceaue, the difference between Sky and CLaye. but the Vulgar cares not for this. What tho. Shall We speake of such thinges noW as shewes men most lyke beastes? What yf a man Losing his sight hath forgotten that euer he had it, shall he suppose he Lackes nothing of a mans perfection? shall We suppose these men, tho they see, to be blynde? They Will not Leave27 so, But Will with certain groWnd of reson KnoW, that they are more Vnhappy that do Wrong, than those that suffer it. I Wold fayne Know these reasons said I. Thou dost not deny a Wicked man is Worthy of all payne? I deny it not, You think to, they are Vnhappy that diuers Wayes are Wicked? such as are Worthy punishment therfore, No doute are miserable. It agreeith Well. Yf therfore thou satest as a Judge, on Whom Woldst thou inflict the payne? eyther on him that Made or suffred the wrong? I doute not but that I Wold satisfy the sufferer by the punishment of the Actor. Then Wretcheder is the Maker, than the Receauour, It is reason. for this and Many other causes, all hangyng on one roote, hit appeers that synne of his oWne Nature, makes men Wretched. And that injury is Not the receauers misery, but the giuers. but Orators doo otherwise They go about to Mooue commiseration of the iudges for them that have commytted som greate and cruell thing, When

26. shalt In the duplicated portion of book 4, Windebank adds “thou” at this point. 27. Leave leve. 100. and lookest . . . clayey and lookest “veluti si . . . respicias” (as if you were looking). clayey muddy; “sordidum” (dirty). 101. by . . . clay “ipsa cernendi ratione nunc caeno nunc sideribus interesse videaris” (on the evidence of sight itself you would seem to be now in the mud, now among the stars). 102. cares . . . this “ista non respicit” (does not pay attention to these things). 103. Shall . . . beasts? “Hisne accedamus quos beluis similes esse monstravimus?” (Shall we, then, join them who we have shown are like beasts?) 104. Shall . . . blind Elizabeth makes little sense of Pulmann’s defective reading, which follows the manuscript tradition: “num videntes eadem caecos putaremus.” Modern editions emend “caecos” to “caeco,” yielding “Should we who see really think the same things as the blind man?”

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to worse, beyond thyself seek no revenger. Thou thyself to worst hast thrown thee, and lookest to heaven and clayey100 earth by fits. When all outward things fails thee, by thine own reason shalt perceive the difference between sky and clay.101 “But the vulgar cares not for this.102 What though? Shall we speak of such things now, as shows men most like beasts?103 What if a man, losing his sight, hath forgotten that ever he had it, shall he suppose he lacks nothing of a man’s perfection? Shall we suppose these men, though they see, to be blind?104 They will not leve so; but will with certain ground of reason know105 that they are more unhappy that do wrong, than those that suffer it.” “I would fain know these reasons,” said I. “Thou dost not deny, a wicked man is worthy of all pain?”106 “I deny it not.” “You think, too, they are unhappy, that divers ways are wicked.107 Such as are worthy punishment, therefore, no doubt are miserable?” “It agreeth well.” “If, therefore, thou sattest as a judge, on whom wouldst thou inflict the pain? Either on him that made, or suffered, the wrong?” “I doubt not but that I would satisfy the sufferer by the punishment of the actor.” “Then, wretcheder is the maker than the receiver.” “It is reason. For this and many other causes, all hanging on one root, it appears that sin,108 of his own nature, makes men wretched; and that injury is not the receivers’ misery, but the givers’.” “But orators do otherwise. They go about to move commiseration of the judges, for them that have committed109 some great and cruel 105. leve . . . know leve grant, allow; “adquiescent” (will assent). will . . . know wish to know on an assured basis of reason. Elizabeth here omits Boethius’s characterization of what the vulgar will not assent to: “illud . . . quod aeque validis rationum nititur firmamentis” (that which rests on equally strong foundations of reasoning). 106. a . . . pain “omnem . . . improbum . . . supplicio dignum” (all wicked men are worthy of punishment). 107. You . . . wicked “Infelices vero esse qui sint improbi multipliciter liquet” (It is clear in many ways that those who are wicked are unhappy). 108. sin “turpitudo” (baseness, shamefulness). 109. committed “perpessi” (suffered, endured). Here and in the next sentence, Elizabeth misses a central distinction between innocent victims and guilty perpetrators, the latter of whom are the more to be pitied, according to the paradox that Boethius derives from Plato’s Gorgias.

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rather a Juster commiseration ought to be had of such as be not brought by Irefull accusers, but by their oWn Wickednes to be accused, such as themselves beemones and takes compassion of as tho they Wold bring the Weak sick to the phisician, and cut of the disease by the false punishment: Who feareth by them unto by which ought to quashe eyther the Endevour of the defendors should coole and proffit such as needes, and or if it should profitt them must be turned into the forme of the accusation turnes themselv as into the parsons accusation. but Wicked men, yf they see Any but a small clift Wher Vertue is to be seene, Where Wicked Vice they May put of, by paynes cruelty, Vnder coulour of recompensing Vertue, and Will not call this cruelty, but Will refuse their defendors Labour, and giue themselves Wholly to the accusers and Judges / So as Wise men haue No place left them, Without for hate, for Who but a Very foole Will Malice a good Man? And Who but he, that lackes reson, Will not hate not hate the yll? for as the bodyes sicknes, so is Vice the myndes disease, euin as, We suppose that sick men deserve not hate but commiseration, so ought they not be persecuted but pitied Whose mynde then all sicknes bytterer, Iniquitie hath besieged.28 4. M[yter] of the iiij th booke / 29 What boutes hit make s so great strife And With thy hand thy Dethe procure If dethe you Seake she draWeth ny 28. besieged Windebank’s duplicate copy of the translation of proses 1–4 and meters 1–3 of book 4 immediately follows at this point in the manuscript. It occupies twelve pages, fols. 58r–63v. The prose sections are in his secretary hand, and the poetic texts are in his italic hand—presumably because Elizabeth herself wrote italic. The apparent motive was to produce a clean copy of this frequently revised stretch of text. Windebank’s duplicate copy reads “assayled” in place of Elizabeth’s final “besieged.” This is the sole substantive variant found in his otherwise highly accurate replication. 29. 4 . . . booke / Windebank entered this caption in the right margin of fol. 64r. The verses following are, as usual, in Elizabeth’s hand. 110. of such . . . of of such . . . be “admittentibus” (for the guilty ones, the perpetrators). such . . . of such accusers as themselves bemoan and pity the accused. Elizabeth obscures Boethius’s point, that the perpetrators deserve greater pity and should be charged by merciful accusers. 111. fa[ult’s] “culpae” (of the fault). Windebank misheard Elizabeth’s “fault’s” as “false,” which he wrote in both his original draft and the duplicated portion of book 4. 112. By . . . accusation “Quo pacto defensorum opera vel tota frigeret, vel si prodesse hominibus mallet, in accusationis habitum verteretur” (By which means the defense attor-

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thing. When, rather, a juster commiseration ought to be had of such as be, not brought by ireful accusers, but by such as themselves bemoans and takes compassion of:110 as though they would bring the sick to the physician, and cut off the disease by the fa[ult’s]111 punishment. By which, either the endeavor of the defenders should cool, or, if it should profit them, must be turned into the form of the accusation.112 But wicked men, if they see any but a small cleft where virtue is to be seen, where wicked vice they may put off, by pain’s cruelty, under color of recompensing virtue, will not call this cruelty, but will refuse their defenders’ labor, and give themselves wholly to the accusers and judges.113 So as, wise men have114 no place left them for hate. For who but a very fool will malice115 a good man? And who, but he that lacks reason, will not hate the ill?116 For, as the body’s sickness, so is vice the mind’s disease: even as we suppose that sick men deserve not hate, but commiseration, so ought they not be persecuted but pitied, whose mind, than all sickness bitterer, iniquity hath besieged.”

Meter 4 What boots it,117 make so great strife, And, with thy hand, thy death procure? If Death you seek, she draweth nigh, neys’ work either would wholly freeze up or, if they had rather do these men some good, would be changed to the role of prosecution). 113. But . . . judges Elizabeth formulates as a possibility what Philosophy states as a counterfactual: if it were permitted (“fas esset”) to the wicked to see what they cannot see (the moral benefits of punishment), they would submit to it. virtue . . . vice Boethius juxtaposes “virtutem relictam” (abandoned virtue) and “vitiorum . . . sordes” (the filth of vices). under . . . virtue “compensatione adipiscendae probitatis” (weighing the attainment of moral uprightness [against the pain of punishment]). under . . . of for the purpose of—presumably without the frequent connotation of a false pretext. recompensing virtue virtue that will take the place of vice. 114. So . . . have So as So that; “quo fit.” have would have. 115. malice regard with malice. 116. who . . . ill “Malos vero odisse ratione caret” (To hate the wicked indeed lacks reason). Elizabeth converts a declarative sentence into a rhetorical question with the opposite point. 117. What . . . it What avails it. “Quid . . . iuvat” could mean ‘What does it help?’ but in this context makes better sense as ‘Why does it please [you]?’

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Agriyng not abides the Winged horse Whom Serpent, Lion, Tigar, beare and bore With bite do Seake With blade your selues pursue That properties agre not but do difar Ar they the Cause of wicked strife and War And perische Wold with Weapon diuers No Just meane of Cruelty ynough Fit Meide wolddest thou giue desartz? Of right the good do Loue the yl bemone.

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5. Prose Than I began, I se quoth I. What felicitie or Misery it is, that is sett in the desertes of honest and or and wicked men. but in common fortune I see, but little good or yll to be. for no Wise Man Wold rather choose to be exuL, poore, dispisde, rather than riche reuerenced, Mighty, and fLorishing abide in his oWn Citie. for then more plainly and With better Witnes, is the propertie of Wisdo Wisdom seene, when the happines of Rulers be as is it Were, skatterd Among such peeple as be straungers, When chefely geayle, Lawe and other tormentes for due punishment, rather pertayne to Wicked Citizens, for Whom they Were first ordeynd. but When these be turned in Wry sorte, and Wickedest payne doo presse good men, and yll doo snatch Reward from Vertue, I Wonder Much What May seeme the reason of so Vniust a confusion, and doo desyre of the to KnoW. it for Les Wold I Maruell therat, if I beleeued all thinges Were Mixt by chanceing

118. Agreeing . . . horse Agreeing Agreeingly; “Sponte sua” (willingly). abides pauses, delays. the . . . horse “volucres . . . equos” (winged horses), which pull the chariot of Death. 119. Whom . . . pursue You—humans—whom animals hunt, you pursue one another with the sword. Elizabeth recasts Boethius’s third-person statements about human beings into direct address. 120. That . . . divers That . . . cause of “An distant quia dissidentque mores?” (Is it because they—i.e., peoples—differ and their customs disagree?). And . . . divers “Alternisque volunt perire telis?” (And by each other’s weapons wish to die?). 121. No . . . enough “Non est iusta satis saevitiae ratio” (Not just enough is cruelty’s calculation / reasoning). Elizabeth’s loose, elliptical rendering suggests the sense: ‘There is no just mean of enough (rather than too much) cruelty.’ “Mean,” her rendering of “ratio,” evokes the golden mean, the virtuous avoidance of extremes, associated with “enough.” Aristotle famously observed that some actions and emotions are bad in themselves and

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Agreeing, not abides the wingèd horse.118 Whom serpent, lion, tiger, bear, and boar With bite do seek; with blade yourselves pursue.119 That properties agree not, but do differ: Are they the cause of wicked strife, and war, And perish would, with weapon divers?120 No just mean, of cruelty enough.121 Fit meed wouldst thou give deserts? Of right, the good do love; the ill bemoan.

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Prose 5 Then I began. “I see,” quoth I, “what felicity or misery it is, that is set in the deserts of honest and wicked men. But, in common fortune, I see but little good or ill to be.122 For no wise man would rather choose to be exile,123 poor, despised, than rich, reverenced, mighty, and, flourishing, abide in his own city. For then more plainly and with better witness is the property of wisdom seen, when the happiness of rulers be, as it were, scattered among such people as be strangers; when, chiefly, jail, law,124 and other torments for due punishment rather pertain to wicked citizens, for whom they were first ordained. But when these be turned in wry sort, and wickedest’ pain do press good men,125 and ill do snatch reward from virtue, I wonder much what may seem the reason of so unjust a confusion, and do desire of thee to know. For less would I marvel thereat, if I believed all things were mixed by chancing luck. Now, God the Guide, my doubt

have no virtuous mean (Nicomachean Ethics 2.16). Elizabeth applies this thought to cruelty. 122. But . . . be “Sed in hac ipsa fortuna populari non nihil boni malive inesse perpendo” (But even in that popular idea of fortune I see some good and evil). 123. exile “exul” (an exile). Windebank’s “exul” renders Elizabeth’s usual Latinate form for “exile”; she unidiomatically omits the indefinite article. 124. scattered . . . law scattered . . . strangers “in contingentes . . . transfunditur” (transferred to the people related to—i.e., dependent upon—them). Elizabeth apparently construes “contingentes populos” in the sense of ‘peoples bordering on’ a realm, hence, “strangers.” law Like all Renaissance editions consulted, Pulmann reads “lex.” Modern editions read “nex” (death). 125. wickedest’ . . . men “scelerumque supplicia bonos premant” (punishments of crimes oppress good men). wickedest’ of—i.e., due to—the wickedest. press oppress, rendering cognate “premant.”

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luckes NoW God the guide, my doute increasith, Which which When oft tymes he giues to good, delytes, to euill, hard haps, somtyme agayne, he giues yll chance to good, and grauntes the yll their Wish: Without I ther could a cause be founde, What hit should be that makes a difference from chaunceing haps It is No wonder quoth she, if Any thing rash and confounded be beleuid When orders reason is Vnknowen. but thou, because allthough thou KnoWest not the cause of so greate An order, Yet Because a good guyder the World tempers, doubte thou Not all thinges b rightly ordered be. 5 Myter of the iiij th booke. 30 Yf man knoW not hoW stars The Arcture next by hyest pole doo slyde Nor Why Bootes sLow glydes by the Wane And sLuggy flames in Sea doo dip When her swift rysings to soone perfomes of hyest heauens the Lawe Will muse, Of fulled Moone the hornes Whytenid, Infected With the bounds of darkest night And such as With her shyning face were shaded Dymmed Pheba31 those stars discouer A common Error folkz assayles And brasen tymbrells stryke with many strokz None musith that the Southest Wynde With hurLing Waue astones the Shore Nor that the hardnid snowy ball by cold By feruent heate of Sonne resolues for Ready is the cause of this be seene

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30. 5 . . . booke / This caption and the text of meter 5 are in Windebank’s italic hand. In transcribing the poem, he retains some of Elizabeth’s spelling and capitalization practices. 31. Pheba Phoebe, the moon. 126. rash “temerarium” (random). 127. stars . . . Wain stars . . . Arcture “Arcturi sidera” (Arcturus’s stars). Arcturus is the brightest star in the constellation Boötes (the Herdsman, also known as “the Bear-keeper”), or a name for the whole constellation. the Wain the Chariot, now known as the “Big Dipper,” a group of seven bright stars in the constellation Ursa Major (the Great Bear).

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increaseth. Which, when ofttimes He gives to good, delights; to evil, hard haps; sometime again, He gives ill chance to good, and grants the ill their wish: without there could a cause be found, what it should be that makes a difference from chancing haps?” “It is no wonder,” quoth she, “if anything rash126 and confounded be believed when order’s reason is unknown. But thou, although thou knowest not the cause of so great an order, yet because a good Guider the world tempers, doubt thou not, all things rightly ordered be.”

Meter 5 If man know not, how stars, The Arcture next by highest pole, do slide, Nor why Boötes slow glides by the Wain127 And sluggy flames in sea do dip, When her128 swift risings too soon performs: Of highest heav’ns, the law will muse. Of fullèd moon the horns whitened, Infected129 with the bounds of darkest night, And such as with her shining face were shaded, Dimmed Phoebe those stars discover:130 A common error folks assails, And brazen timbrels strike with many strokes.131 None museth that the Southeast wind With hurling wave astounds the shore, Nor that the hard’ned, snowy ball (by cold) By fervent heat of sun resolves:132 For, ready is the cause of this be seen.

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128. sluggy . . . her sluggy sluggish; “tardus.” her Boötes’s. The slow settings and swift risings of the same constellation cause the human observer to wonder at heaven’s law. 129. Infected dyed, darkened; “infecta.” 130. discover let her disclose; “detegat.” 131. A . . . strokes When an eclipse of the full moon occurred, the Romans, frightened by the omen, made loud noises with gongs and trumpets to break what they regarded as an evil spell; see Livy Ab urbe condita 26.5.9; and Tacitus Annales 1.28. 132. Southeast . . . resolves Southeast “Cori” (of the Northwest). resolves melts.

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but hydden causes Whyrls the mynd Such as our Age scarce knoWith lyke And vulgar fleete at souden gase Let cLoudy faulte of of Error giue his pLace And wonders sure sure are be seene shall ceasse.

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6. Prose 32 So it is quoth she, sayd I. but since thy office it is to Vnfold the cause of hidden maters, and Expresse reasons hid Vnder shade, I besech the, to Looke on this, and for that this Miracle doth Most Vexe Me, teache it me. Then she smyLing alittle, You call me to a Matter that all Men chefely seek, to Whom scacely suffisith to taste aLone. for it is such A mater that one dout cut of, inumerable others as hydras heades doo folloW, groWe increase nether euer Will ther be An end, Unles a lyuely fyre fyre of the Mynde Do doo bynde it. for in this Mater, We inquire of the Purenes of Prouidence, of the succession of Chaunce, of hapning Luckes, of the KnoWledge and Predestination of god, and of our fre Will, Which of hoW greate burden all these be, thy self canst Waye. but because this is some portion of thy medecin to KnoW these thinges, tho We be Wrapt in a strayte lymite of tyme, yet We Will stryue somWhat to determyne, for if thou delyte in a Musicall song, thou Must differ a littly a little thy delyte, While I doo tune in order the Reasons Knyt togither. As please you said I. Then As begynning of an other theme / thus she disputed. The creation of all thinges and the disposing of Mutable Natures, and What euer by any

32. 6. Prose Resuming the established practice, Windebank took down prose 6 in his secretary hand. 133. And . . . gaze “Stupetque subitis mobile vulgus” (And the inconstant common people are amazed at sudden happenings). fleet shifting, i.e., inconstant. The OED treats “fleet” in the sense of ‘shifting’ as a nineteenth-century poeticism but records its medieval cognates “flit” and “fleeting” as having this sense. 134. sure . . . cease will certainly cease to be seen; “Cessent profecto . . . videri” (They would surely cease to seem [wonders]). 135. miracle . . . me miracle “miraculum” (marvel). Elizabeth usually translates “miraculum” with this cognate. teach . . . me “quae hinc decernas . . . edisseras” (may you expound . . . what you deduce from this). 136. all . . . whom “omnium quaesitu maximam . . . cui vix exhausti quicquam satis sit” (greatest of all things in the seeking, for which hardly anything—i.e., any examination—

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But hidden causes whirls the mind, Such as our age scarce knoweth like, And vulgar fleet, at sudden, gaze.133 Let cloudy fault of error give his place; And wonders, sure, be seen shall cease.134

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Prose 6 “So it is,” said I. “But since thy office it is to unfold the cause of hidden matters, and express reasons hid under shade, I beseech thee, to look on this; and, for that this miracle doth most vex me, teach it me.”135 Then she, smiling a little: “You call me to a matter that all men chiefly seek, to whom scarcely sufficeth to taste alone.136 For it is such a matter that, one doubt cut off, innumerable others, as Hydra’s heads, increase; neither ever will there be an end, unless a lively fire of the mind do bind it. For, in this matter, we inquire of the pureness137 of providence, of the succession of chance, of happ’ning lucks, of the knowledge and predestination of God, and of our free will—which, of how great burden all these be, thyself canst weigh. But, because this is some portion of thy medicine to know these things, though we be wrapped in a strait limit of time, yet we will strive somewhat to determine.138 For, if thou delight in a musical song, thou must defer a little thy delight, while I do tune139 in order the reasons knit together.” “As please you,” said I. Then, as beginning of another theme, thus she disputed: “The creation of all things, and the disposing of mutable natures, and

would be sufficient to finish). Elizabeth takes “omnium” to refer to all men instead of all things. whom which. taste examine. 137. of . . . pureness of the freedom from admixture, simplicity; “de . . . simplicitate” (of the unity, singleness, simplicity). “Pureness” is Elizabeth’s usual rendering of “simplicitas,” applied by Boethius to God and to providence. 138. to determine “deliberare,” which means ‘to consider carefully’ but in perfect tenses can mean ‘to determine.’ The Bibliotheca Eliotae and Thomas Thomas give “determine,” without qualification, as a meaning of “deliberare.” 139. tune “contexo” (weave). Philosophy is explaining that this prose section will be long, thus delaying the next Meter’s “music.” Elizabeth represents the prose section as the tuning-up that precedes the Meter.

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meane is Mooued, that doth getes thise cause order and forme of the diui Godes Mynde stabilitie. And this sett in the top of a her Purenes, appoyntes a sondry manner for ech action, Which order When it is beheld in the Very cleerenes of diuine Vnderstanding, is Named Prouidence. but When it is referd to those thinges that hit Moouith and disposith, of the Auncientes it is called Desteny,33 Which easely shall appeer to be diuers, yf A Mans Mynde Will see the efficacy of both. for Prouidence is godes pleasure appoyntyd by him that all rulith and all disposith. but Desteny is the disposing of causes mixt Joynd to remoouing causes, by the Which Prouidence knittith all thinges in by her her orders for Prouidence includith all, Whither they be diuers or infinite, but Desteny deuideth euery thing according to her motion, distributing it to place, to forme, and tyme That that this deuiding of temporall order Joyned to the diuine PLeasure May be made prouidence. but that Joyning, being seuerd and deuided into tymes, that is fate. Which tho they be sondry, yet they depend one of An other / for fatall order proceedith of Prouidence purenes, For as a Craftes man conceuing in his mynde the forme of a Woork, causith him to end, and that Which he hath plainly and presently foreseene he ordrith by tymes Rule; so god by his prouidence singularly and stable disposith all thinges to be don. but by desteny so devided, most aboundantly and in his due season Workes it. Whither desteny be exercised by familiar Spirites that serues for godes providence, or Whither our fate the fatall WorK be Knytt by the soLe soule alone, or Nature seruing in parte therto, or celestiall courses of the heavens, or by Angelicall poWers, or by sondry industry of Spirites, or by som of these, or by all, This is Most playne, that the forme of all thinges Vnmoueable and simple, is Prouidence. But desteny is of such thinges

33. Prouidence . . . Desteny Windebank’s italics. 140. this God’s mind. 141. providence . . . destiny “providentia” . . . “fatum.” Elizabeth sometimes renders “fatum” as “destiny” and sometimes as its cognate, “fate.” We reproduce Windebank’s emphatic italics. 142. God’s pleasure what God wills or pleases to bring about, rendering “ipsa illa divina ratio” (that divine reason itself). By treating divine reason as divine pleasure or will here and elsewhere, Elizabeth endows Boethius’s God of reason with the autonomous will of the Calvinist God. 143. disposing . . . causes “inhaerens rebus mobilibus dispositio” (disposition inhering in mutable things).

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whatever by any mean is moved, gets the cause, order, and form of God’s mind’ stability. And this,140 set in the top of her pureness, appoints a sundry manner for each action: which order, when it is beheld in the very clearness of divine understanding, is named providence, but when it is referred to those things that it moveth and disposeth, of the ancients it is called destiny.141 Which easily shall appear to be divers, if a man’s mind will see the efficacy of both. For providence is God’s pleasure,142 appointed by Him, that all ruleth and all disposeth. But destiny is the disposing of causes joined to removing causes,143 by the which providence knitteth all things by her orders. For providence includeth all, whether they be divers or infinite, but destiny divideth everything according to her motion, distributing it to place, to form, and time: that this dividing of temporal order, joined to the divine pleasure, may be made144 providence. But that joining, being severed and divided into times, that is fate. “Which though they145 be sundry, yet they depend one of another. For fatal order proceedeth of providence’ pureness. For, as a craftsman, conceiving in his mind the form of a work, causeth him to end, and that which he hath plainly and presently foreseen, he ordereth by time’s rule: so God, by His providence, singularly and stabl[y] disposeth all things to be done, but, by destiny so divided, abundantly and in his due season works it.146 Whether destiny be exercised by familiar spirits that serves for God’s providence, or whether the fatal work be knit by the soul alone, or Nature serving in part thereto, or celestial courses of the heavens, or by angelical powers, or by sundry industry of spirits, or by some of these, or by all—this is most plain, that the form of all things147 unmovable and 144. divine . . . made divine pleasure “divinae mentis . . . prospectum” (the foresight of the divine mind). may . . . made “sit” (is). Elizabeth presumably misread “sit” as “fit” (initial long s is minimally distinguishable from f in Renaissance editions) and construed as “fiat” (may be made). 145. they providence and destiny. 146. causeth . . . it causeth . . . end “movet operis efffectum” (undertakes the completion of the work). stabl[y] Windebank miswrote “stable.” by . . . it “fato vero haec ipsa quae disposuit multipliciter ac temporaliter administrat” (but by destiny accomplishes those same things which He has disposed in a manifold and temporal manner). 147. by familiar . . . things by familiar . . . God’s providence “famulantibus quibusdam providentiae divinis spiritibus” (by certain divine spirits acting as servants to providence). familiar spirits In early modern popular belief, these were demons under the

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as the Diuine CLeerenes disposith to be don, and Makith the Mooving lynkes knot Lynk and orderly Rule. So is it followes it that all that subiect be to fate, be Vnder Rule of Prouidence Vnder Whom fatte fate it self doWn lytes layes. But som thinges there are by Prouidence appoynted that doo exceede fates force. those thinges they be Which fixed stably next to diuinitie exceede the Nature of faulse fates Mutabilitie. for as of all Circles the inmost that tu turnes themselves about one Rounde, coms Neerest to the Purenes of the Midst, And as are is as a thressholl for steddy stay of all that rolles about, and doth circuite the same, but the Vttmost by Wyder bredth rolled, the more hit goes from the Vndeuided Midst of the poynte, So Much the More hit is spred by Larger spaces, but Whatsoeuer drawith Neere and accompanith the midst and With his purenes is Ruled, ceassith to be stopt or ouerrun: With lyke reason, that furdest goes from the first intent, is Wrapt in straighter knotes of fate, And so Much the freer is Any Man from the same, as Neerest he doth drawe, to the orderd orderers Wheele. And yf he stick to the euerduring eternall Mynde, Wanting change, he goith aboue Destenys Necessitie. for as Reason is to Vnderstanding, and that that is made, to that that is, And as tyme to Eternity and Circle is to the Middest poynte, So is the order of fate changeable, compared to the stable purenes of Prouidence. for desteny moouith heauen and skye, tempers the elementes Among themselves and Turnes them thoroW diuers changes, and such thinges as be bred and dye, renewes such34 Proceeding by lyke power of an individual. Prompted by the cognate “famulantibus,” Elizabeth applies the term to Boethius’s servants of providence. soul alone A probable reference to the Neoplatonic “world soul” or animating spirit of the cosmos. Nature . . . part “tota inserviente natura” (by the service of the whole of Nature). form . . . things “gerendarum formam rerum” (the form of all things to be done). 34. such The second occurrence of “such” in this sentence is marked for revision, but no revision was made. 148. orderly rule “ordinem temporalem” (temporal ordering). 149. the midst . . . point the midst the center. about [and] We restore “and,” cancelled by Windebank but required by the sense of the Latin. from . . . point “a puncti media individuitate” (literally, fom the middle indivisibility of the point—i.e., the indivisibility of the midpoint). 150. to . . . intent to . . . stopped Elizabeth perhaps intended ‘to be unstopped,’ attested from the fourteenth century onward; “diffundi” (to be spread). from . . . intent “a prima mente” (from the first mind—i.e., God). “Intent” has a range of senses—mind, understanding, will, and inclination—that blur distinctions between Boethius’s God of reason and Elizabeth’s God of will.

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simple is providence. But destiny is of such things as the divine clearness disposeth to be done, and maketh the moving link and orderly rule.148 So follows it, that all that subject be to fate be under rule of providence, under whom fate itself down lays. “But some things there are by providence appointed, that do exceed fate’s force. These things they be which, fixed stably next to divinity, exceed the nature of fate’s mutability. For, as of all circles, the inmost, that turns themselves about one round, comes nearest to the pureness of the midst, and as a steady stay of all that rolls about [and] doth circuit the same; but the utmost, by wider breadth rolled, the more it goes from the undivided midst of the point,149 so much the more it is spread by larger spaces. But whatsoever draweth near, and accompanieth the midst, and with His pureness is ruled, ceaseth to be stopped or overrun: with like reason, that furthest goes from the first intent,150 is wrapped in straiter knots of fate. And so much the freer is any man from the same, as nearest he doth draw to the Orderer’s wheel.151 And if he stick to the ever-during eternal mind, wanting change,152 he goeth above destiny’s necessity. For, as reason is to understanding, and that that is made, to that that is;153 and as time to eternity, and circle is to the middest point: so is the order of fate changeable, compared to the stable pureness of providence. For destiny moveth heaven and sky, tempers the elements among themselves, and turns them through divers changes: and such things

151. any . . . wheel any man “aliquid” (anything). Elizabeth here and in the next sentence again transposes a claim about any created things in general into a claim about human beings. nearest . . . wheel “quanto illum rerum cardinem vicinius petit” (the nearer it goes toward that center of things). Orderer’s wheel God’s celestial sphere or firmament, which was regarded as revolving like a wheel around the earth, loosely rendering “rerum cardinem” (center of things). 152. to . . . change “supernae mentis . . . firmitati, motu carens” (to the firmness of the supernal mind, lacking motion). 153. reason . . . is reason . . . understanding Boethius’s analogy alludes to the two highest of the four modes of cognition discussed more fully in book 5, prose 4. Reason— here “ratiocinatio”; in book 5 “ratio”—is the human ability to reason from particulars to universals; understanding—here “intellectus”; in book 5 “intelligentia”—is the divine ability to grasp the underlying unity of things. that . . . is “ad id quod est id quod gignitur” (as that which becomes to that which is). Elizabeth’s rendering of the relationship between what (eternally) is (God) and what becomes or changes as a contrast between what “is” and what “is made” accords with the description of the creation in Romans 1:20 (Vulgate) as “ea quae facta sunt” (the things that have been made). There Paul claims that

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generation of frutes and seedes. This Knittes actions, fortunes of Men by an indissoluble knot lynk of causes, Which since they com all from the begynning of an Vnchanging Prouidence, It Must needes be that otherwise than so, they can Not change. for so thinges be Well ordred, yf the euerLasting Purenes of godes mynde doth Prescribe An Vnturning order of causes. But this Rule boundith byndith in, thinges Mutable, and rashly fleeting, by his oWne steddyness. So as Wherby altho to you that can Not consider the order of thinges, they seeme confuse confuse, and rombled togither, Yet he that is cause of all good, directes it euery Wher to all thing to hit. for ther is No Man hoW Wicked soeuer, that for yll sake, Will doo ought so. Whom tho as I haue told you afore, in seeking good, An yll errour hath turned, Yet the order that coms from the roote of all good, turns No Man from his begynning. but What thou Wilt saye, can be a greater confusion or a Woorsse, than that aduersitie and prosperitie happens to good men, and alyke to euill doth hap Who both Wisht and hated haue it hated. doo Men lyve of such integritie of mynde, that it Must Needes be that they be Wicked or good, that be supposed so? for in this We see diuers Judgementes of Men Vary, Whom som thinkes Worthy rewarde, other suppose deserue punishment. but let Vs graunte, that As one Man may discerne the good and yll men, Can he Looke Vpon the inWard temper of the Mynde, as well as of the body: We May see hit The Wonder is not Vnlyke to him that KnoWes Not why som men to men of Wholle bodyes, somtymes to to these sweet thinges please, som other delyte in soWre, Why sick Men, som be helpt by Lenitiues, som other cured by corrosiues. but this a Phisician that KnoWes the Meane of his helth and sicknes togither With his temper, Nothing Wonders at thereat. What other thing is the myndes helth, than sincerity What the sicknes, but the his Vice? Who is other is

God’s eternal power can be clearly perceived from His temporal creation. Compare book 2, meter 3, line 18. 154. by . . . seeds “per similes fetuum seminumque renovat progressus” (renews by similar processions of offspring and seedlings). 155. rashly fleeting “alioquin temere fluituras” (which would otherwise randomly drift). 156. confuse . . . it confuse disordered; “confusa.” rumbled together tossed about, shaken up; “perturbata” (disordered). yet . . . it “nihilo minus tamen suus modus ad bonum dirigens cuncta disponat” (nevertheless their own measure directing them toward

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as be bred and die, renews such by like generations of fruits and seeds.154 This knits actions, fortunes of men by an indissoluble link of causes, which since they come all from the beginning of an unchanging providence, it must needs be that, otherwise than so, they cannot change. For so things be well ordered, if the everlasting pureness of God’s mind doth prescribe an unturning order of causes. But this rule bindeth in, things mutable and rashly fleeting,155 by his own steadiness. Whereby, although to you that cannot consider the order of things, they seem confuse and rumbled together, yet He that is cause of all good, directs all thing to it.156 For there is no man,157 how wicked soever, that for ill’ sake will do aught so. Whom, though as I have told you afore, in seeking good, an ill error hath turned, yet the order that comes from the root of all good,158 turns no man from his beginning. “But what, thou wilt say, can be a greater confusion or a worse, than that adversity and prosperity happens to good men, and alike to evil doth hap, both wished and hated? Do men live, of such integrity of mind, that it must needs be that they be wicked or good, that be supposed so? For in this we see divers judgments of men vary: whom some thinks worthy reward, other suppose deserve punishment. But let us grant that one man may discern the good and ill men: can he look upon the inward temper of the mind, as well as of the body?159 The wonder is not unlike to him that knows not why, to men of whole bodies, sometimes to these, sweet things please, some other delight in sour: why sick men some be helped by lenitives, some other cured by corrosives. But this, a physician that knows the mean of his health and sickness, together with his temper, nothing wonders at. What other thing is the mind’s health, than sincerity?160 What the sickness, but vice? Who other is either keeper of good, or overthrower of ill,

the good disposes them all). Elizabeth turns a claim about the propensity of created things to ordered goodness into a claim about God. 157. no man “Nihil” (nothing). 158. ill . . . good ill error “pravus error” (perverse error). from . . . good “de summi boni cardine” (from the center of the highest good). 159. inward . . . body “illam intimam temperiem, velut in corporibus dici solet, animorum” (that inward temper—as it is usual to say of bodies—of souls). Lady Philosophy applies to the mind a term also used of the body in Galenic medicine: “temperies” (the harmonious balance of elements). 160. sincerity “probitas.”

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eyther Keeper of good, or ouerthrower of yll, than the directour and Phisician of our Mynde, god himselfe. Who When he Lookes out of the gLasse of his hye Prouidence, KnoWith What for ech man is best. And that he KnoWes is best, that he gyues him. And this is the great Miracle of Destenyes order, When it is ordred treated guyded handled by a skyllful person at Which the ignorant Woonder. And that I may somwhat touche What mans Reason May comprehend of godes depth, in that Mater that thou supposest to be most Just, and keeps greatest equalitie, it seemes all to be different from that him that he knowith What Prouidence is. And as our frend Lucan sayd, the Wynners cause pleased God, the Woonne Cato. for in this World What so thou seest be don beyond hope, is the rightest order of all. And peruers is the confusion of opinion her self. but if A Man haue so much Manner, that he Will agree both of diuine Judgement and humayne, yet is he of his Myndes strength so Weak, As if Any aduersitie hap him, he Will leave to prise ynnocency, by Whom he could not Keepe fortune. for the Wise giuer sparyth him Whom he knoWes aduersity will him payre, so as he Will not suffer him Labour in payne, for ought behooues him Not. An other man ther is vniuersally Vertuous, holy, and mixt next to god, This Man the diuine Prouidence Judgith a Wicked thing With adersitie to afflict. so that he Will not suffer him be Vext With bodely disease: for a good man his Vertues hath place his inhabitence dwell within him for As an excellenter than My self sayde, A good Man his vertues doo inhabite him. So it concludes, that good men haue all thinges to rule, that abounding

161. out . . . providence “ex alta providentiae specula” (out from the high watch-tower of His providence). Elizabeth mistook “specula” for “speculo” (looking-glass). 162. treated . . . person “ab sciente geritur” (carried out by the knowing One). skillful knowledgeable. Elizabeth seems to construe Boethius’s claim about God’s providential ordering as one about the kind of human being who can understand this order. 163. in that . . . is “de hoc quem tu iustissimum et aequi servantissimum putas omnia scienti providentiae diversum videtur” (in the case of that man whom you think most just and the most observant of fairness, to all-knowing providence it seems the opposite). Elizabeth construes as if “quem” were “quod.” equality fairness. 164. Lucan In his Pharsalia, an epic on the Roman civil war composed ca. 61–65 C.E., at 1.128: “victrix causa deis placuit, sed victa Catoni.” A much-cited line on the younger Cato’s Stoic defiance of fate in support of the republican cause defeated by Julius Caesar. 165. beyond . . . herself beyond hope “Citra spem” can mean ‘beyond (one’s) hope,’ but here it means ‘falling short of (one’s) hope.’ perverse . . . herself “opinioni vero tuae perversa confusio” (though in your opinion it is perverse confusion).

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than the Director and Physician of our mind, God Himself? Who, when He looks out of the glass of His high providence,161 knoweth what for each man is best. And that He knows is best, that He gives him. And this is the great miracle of destiny’s order, when it is treated by a skillful person,162 at which the ignorant wonder. “And that I may somewhat touch what man’s reason may comprehend of God’s depth: in that matter that thou supposest to be most just, and keeps greatest equality, it seems all be different from him, that knoweth what providence is.163 And, as our friend Lucan164 said, ‘The winners’ cause pleased God; the won, Cato.’ For, in this world, whatso thou seest be done beyond hope is the rightest order of all; and perverse is the confusion of opinion herself.165 But if a man have so much manner, that he will agree both of divine judgment and human,166 yet is he of his mind’s strength so weak as, if any adversity hap him, he will leave to prize innocency, by whom he could not keep fortune. For the wise Giver spareth him whom he knows adversity will [im]pair,167 so as He will not suffer him labor in pain, for aught behooves him not. Another man there is universally virtuous, holy, and next to God. This man the divine providence judgeth a wicked thing with adversity to afflict, so that He will not suffer him be vexed with bodily disease. For, as an excellenter than myself said: ‘A good man—his virtues do inhabit him.’168 So it concludes, that good men have all things to rule, that abounding iniquity might be ruined. 169

166. But . . . human “Sed sit aliquis ita bene moratus ut de eo divinum iudicium pariter et humanum consentiat” (But let there be someone so well mannered that divine and human judgment equally agree about him). manner polite behavior. will . . . human Elizabeth may have misconstrued the Latin, or she may have intended “will agree” in the now obsolete sense of ‘will be to the liking of, will please’ with “of ” as an unidiomatic holdover from Boethius’s construction with “de.” 167. wise Giver . . . [im]pair wise Giver “sapiens dispensatio” (wise dispensation). [im]pair Windebank evidently misheard Elizabeth’s “impair” and wrote “him pair”; “impair” is required by the sense of the Latin, “deteriorem facere” (make worse). Compounding the possibility of error here, “pair” is a variant of “impair” in earlier English. 168. A . . . him The Greek in Pulmann reads “Ανδρὸς ἱηροῦ σῶμα δυνάμεις οἰκοδομοῦσι” (His powers build the body of a holy man). Elizabeth confused the verb “ὀικοδομεῖν” (to build a dwelling) with “ὀικεῖν” (to inhabit). The quoted line, not known from any other source, may derive from an as yet unidentified Neoplatonic treatise. 169. it . . . ruined it . . . rule “Fit . . . saepe, uti bonis summa rerum regenda deferatur” (It often happens that the highest direction of things is given to good men). concludes demonstrates. ruined done away with; “retundatur” (may be checked).

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iniquitie might be ruyned. To other Men he distributes certain Mixtures according to the qualitie of the Mynd. som men he stingith lest they should ouerflow into greate felicity. others he tosses With aduersitie, that he may establish their Myndes Vertue, by Patience Vse and exercyse, others som to Much feare, that beare they Might, som other to Much despise that carry they can Not, These men he Leades by Woe to knoW themselves. Som other deserue an honorable name With price of gLorious death. Som other haue shewed A sample to the rest, Vnuincible of Payne. And so doo shew to Wicked men, hoW Vnwon Vertue is. Which thinges hoW rightly and in order and for their good to Whom it hapt they haue bene don, ther is No doute. for euin that eyther soroWfull or desyred haps to the Wicked folkes, proceedes of like cause. And as for the Wicked, No Man Wonders, for thinking them Worthy all yll: Whose punishment both feares other from faultes, and breedes their Amendement on Whom it is imposd. Pleasant pro Prosperous thinges serue for greate argument that they be it is good. but What ought Men iudge of such felicitie? When they see them the servantes of Iniquitie the Wicked. In Which mater somtyme they seeme to haue a dispensation? for that som mans nature is so headstrong and Rash, that neede of necessary necessities cause, May Make him fall into a Mischeefe, Whom the prouiding of monny got, might serue for Remedy. but When he Lookes his fyled conscience with faulte, and with himself disputing of his fortune, perchance fearith that the Losse should be soroWfull, of that the Vse Was delytefull. he Will change therfore his condition, and Whyle his luck feares to Lose it, he Will he leave his Wickednes. Vnworthy gotten felicitie throWes doWne som men to deseruid Ruine. som men haue leave to punish, 170. Othersome . . . themselves Othersome Some others; “alii.” carry endure, bear. to . . . themselves “in experimentum sui” (into self-testing). 171. do . . . is “praetulerunt invictam malis esse virtutem” (have shown that virtue is unconquered by evils). 172. as for . . . fears as for . . . wicked “de tristibus” (concerning the hardships—of the wicked). for thinking . . . ill “quod eos male meritos omnes existimant” (because all think them worthy of ill). fears frightens. 173. that . . good “bonis” (to / for good men). Elizabeth misconstrues “bonis” as referring to the goodness of prosperous things. 174. But . . . wicked? Not a question in the Latin, but part of the preceding sentence spelling out the “argument” to which Boethius has just referred, namely, that good men should judge prosperity of little worth when they see how often it attends the wicked. them i.e., prosperous things.

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“To other men He distributes certain mixtures, according to the quality of the mind. Some men He stingeth, lest they should overflow into great felicity. Others He tosses with adversity, that He may establish their minds’ virtue by patience, use, and exercise. Othersome too much fear, that bear they might; some other too much despise, that carry they cannot—these men He leads by woe to know themselves.170 Some other deserve an honorable name with price of glorious death. Some other have showed a sample to the rest, unvincible of pain; and so do show to wicked men how unwon virtue is:171 which how rightly, and in order, and for their good to whom it happed they have been done, there is no doubt. For even that, either sorrowful or desired, haps to the wicked folks, proceeds of like cause. And, as for the wicked, no man wonders, for thinking them worthy all ill, whose punishment both fears172 other from faults, and breeds their amendment, on whom it is imposed. “Prosperous things serve for great argument that they be good.173 But what ought men judge of such felicity, when they see them the servants of the wicked?174 In which matter, sometime they seem to have a dispensation: for that some man’s nature is so headstrong and rash, that need, of necessity’s cause,175 may make him fall into a mischief, whom the providing of money got, might serve for remedy. But when he looks—his filled conscience, with fault, and with himself disputing of his fortune176—perchance feareth that the loss should be sorrowful, of that, the use was delightful. He will change, therefore, his condition; and while his luck fears to lose it,177 he will leave his wickedness. Unworthy-gotten felicity throws down some men to deserved ruin; some men have leave to punish, that they might

175. they . . . cause they . . . dispensation “illud etiam dispensari” (this too is arranged). need . . . cause “rei familiaris inopia” (lack of property). 176. he . . . fortune he Boethius imagines another hypothetical individual. Elizabeth does not clearly distinguish this man from the poverty-stricken man of the preceding sentence. filled . . . fault “foedatam probris conscientiam” (conscience soiled with shame). and . . . fortune “et se cum fortuna sua comparans” (and comparing himself with his fortune). 177. while . . . it A typographical error—“fortuna” instead of “fortunam”—in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, corrected in 1580, misled Elizabeth into treating “luck” as a grammatical subject. “Dum fortuna metuit amittere” yields ‘while fortune fears to lose’; the correct reading, “dum fortunam . . . ,” yields ‘while he fears to lose [good] fortune.’

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that they might exercise invre35 good Men, and punish the yll. For as No league there is between the Wicked and good, So can Not the euill Among them selves agree, What els. When ech man disagrees, their Vices being sondry, and often doo such thinges, Which they discerne they ought Not doo, after don it they be. So haps it oft, that godes providence Wourkith A Miracle, that euill Men, make yll men good. For Wher When they see that they suffer sha harm themselves by euill Men, abhorring such Actors, retourne to Vertues frute, While they study to be Vnlyke such As they hate, for it is godes only poWre, to Madke of euill good, When Vsing them as they ought, drawes from them som effect of good. for Order keeps ech thing, so as What so doth leave his assigned Way of order, the self same tho it hap to an other, falles to ruine in Rule, lest in Providences Kingdom, Rashnes should prevayle, hard for me it is these thinges that touche god, as all the rest, describe. for neyther doth it becom Man to comprehend all shapes of his Woorkes, or by tongue or Wit expresse. only this may suffise that We perceaue that God the Maker of all Nature, disposith so of all as directes it to the good. And While he hyes to Kepe such thinges in order as he Made, he dryVes out all euill out of the boundes of his Kingdom, by the order of a fatall Necessitie. So it folloWes that such thinges As We beleeue the Earth to haue plenty, if We Looke vpon the direction of Providence, We shall see ther is no yll at all. But NoW I see the burdned With Waight of question and Wearyed With length of Reasoning, to expecte the sweetness of som Verse / Take therfore a Draught Wherby refresht thou mayst trye strong or furder to go.

35. exercise invre Boethius reads “exercitii . . . esset causa” (may be the occasion of exercise to). Windebank’s deletion of “exercise” indicates that Elizabeth first tried a cognate rendering before offering a freer one with “inure” (harden, accustom through exercise). 178. Unworthy-gotten . . . inure Unworthy-gotten . . . down “praecipitavit indigne acta felicitas” (unworthily handled happiness has thrown down). leave . . . punish the right to punish—which civil magistrates had. they . . . inure “exercitii . . . esset causa” (it [i.e., the right to punish] may be the occasion of exercise for). inure harden, accustom through exercise. 179. disagrees . . . sundry disagrees disagrees with himself; “a semet . . . . dissentiat.” their . . . sundry “ipsis discerpentibus conscientiam vitiis” (their vices themselves tearing their conscience to pieces).

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inure178 good men, and punish the ill. For, as no league there is between the wicked and good, so cannot the evil among themselves agree. What else, when each man disagrees, their vices being sundry,179 and often do such things, which they discern they ought not do, after done they be? “So haps it oft, that God’s providence worketh a miracle, that evil men make ill men good. For when they see that they suffer harm themselves by evil men, abhorring such actors, return to virtue’s fruit, while they study to be unlike such as they hate. For it is God’sonly power, to make of evil good, when using them as they ought, draws from them some effect of good. For order keeps each thing: so as, whatso doth leave his assigned way of order, the selfsame, though it hap to another, falls in rule lest, in providence’s kingdom, rashness180 should prevail. ‘Hard for me it is, these things that touch God, as all the rest, describe.’181 For neither doth it become man to comprehend all shapes of His works, or by tongue or wit express. Only this may suffice, that we perceive that God, the Maker of all Nature, disposeth so of all, as directs it to the good. And, while He hies to keep such things in order182 as He made, He drives all evil out of the bounds of His kingdom, by the order of a fatal necessity. So it follows, that such things as we believe the earth to have plenty, if we look upon the direction of providence, we shall see there is no ill at all. But now I see thee, burdened with weight of question and wearied with length of reasoning, to expect the sweetness of some verse. Take therefore a draught: whereby refreshed, thou mayst try, strong, further to go.” 180. though . . . rashness though . . . rule Pulmann’s edition reads “hoc licet in alium, tamen in ordinem relabatur” (though it slips back into another [state], nevertheless it slips back into order). rashness “temeritati,” here ‘randomness, chance.’ 181. Hard . . . describe Pulmann’s edition reads “Ἀργαλέον δ’ἐμε ταῦτα θεὼν ὡς πάντ’ ἀργορέυειν.” The error-filled Greek is difficult to construe; perhaps, “Hard it is for me to speak these things concerning the gods as (so to speak) all things.” Elizabeth seeks to be literal except for turning plural “gods” into “God.” Modern texts read “θεὸν” in place of Pulmann’s “θεὼν”: “ ’Αργαλέον δέ με ταῦτα θεὸν ὥς πάντ’ ἀγορεύειν” (But it is hard that I should talk of all these things as if I were a god). The quotation is from Homer Iliad 12.176. 182. in order Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads “in similitudine,” corrected in 1580 to “in sui similitudine” (in His image). Elizabeth seems to construe the phrase as ‘in uniformity’—whence “in order.”

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6. Myter of the iiij th booke 36 If wary If wary alone of thundring God the Lawes thou Wilt the Lawes with purest mynde beholde of hyest heauen the top doo veWe, There PLanetz with Justicest League of all agreement old doo keepe, [5] The sonne stryvd styrd vp by Ruddy fyre Phebas frosy axill tree ne Letts Nor that beare that on the top of world A running Course doth bend [10] That neuer other stars other stars wet beholding Dround vnder northern western depth doth suffer touch be touched is touched the flames with Sea and seketh not such with flames the Sea to hit Euer with equall turne of tyme Hesperus shows the Later shades [15] And Lucifer retourns the fayest37 day So enterLaced Looue renewes The Eternall courses all So Jarring Warr from starry starry sky the made outLaw All things the Elementz alL taccord tempars In equal Sort, that StriVing [20] Moisteurs may to droughts be turnes giue way That the Coldz g kipe faithe with fLames And hanging fire VpWard bend And heuy erthe With Waight bow downe by seluesame Cause in miLddist springe [25] The floWring yeres his Sauors yeldz hottist Sommer Corne dothe ripe And fruitfuL Autumne apples beares

36. 6 . . . booke This caption and the text of meter 6 are in Windebank’s italic hand, except for lines 19–29, which are in Elizabeth’s hand. The revisions in lines 11, 12, 18, 33, and 48 are also in her hand. 37. fayest A penslip for “fayrest,” i.e., “fairest.” 183. If . . . behold “Si vis celsi iura tonantis / Pura sollers cernere mente” (If, intelligent, you would discern the lofty Thunderer’s laws with a pure mind). wary “sollers” (intelligent, skillful). 184. Phoebe’s . . . lets “Non. . . / Gelidum Phoebes impedit axem” (Does not detain Phoebe’s ice-cold axle [a metonym for “chariot”]). nor lets hinders not.

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Meter 6 If, wary, alone of thund’ring God the laws thou wilt With purest mind behold,183 Of highest heav’n the top do view: There planets, with justest league of all, Agreement old do keep. The sun, stirred up by ruddy fire, Phoebe’s frosty axle-tree nor lets;184 Nor that Bear that, on the top of world, A running course doth bend, That ne’er (other stars wet beholding, Drowned under Western depth) is touched; And seeketh not, with flames, the sea to hit.185 Ever, with equal turn of time, Hesperus shows the later shades;186 And Lucifer returns the fairest day. So, interlacèd love renews Th’ eternal courses all: So, jarring war from starry sky made outlaw, The elements all to accord tempers In equal sort: that striving Moistures to droughts’ turns give way;187 That the colds keep faith with flames, And hanging fire upward bend, And heavy earth with weight bow down. By selfsame cause, in mildest spring, The flow’ring year his savors yields; Hottest summer, corn doth ripe; And fruitful autumn, apples188 bears;

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185. And . . . hit “Nec. . . / Cupit oceano tingere flammas” (Nor . . . / Desires to plunge his flames into the ocean). 186. Hesperus . . . shades “Vesper seras nuntiat umbras” (Vesper—the personification of evening— announces the late shadows, i.e., shades of night). 187. striving / . . . way “pugnantia / Vicibus cedant umida siccis” (Warring wet things give way by turns to dry things). striving fighting. 188. apples Probably used in its now obsolete generic sense of ‘fruits’; “pomis.”

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Dripping Shorewewress Wintar moistz This temper feedes and brings fourth What so lyfe in world doth brethe The same se same snatching makes and plucks away By The Lasting gasp ending the Spring The maker hye all hye meane While sitts Ruling bends of all the Raynes King and lord spring and source fyrst, Lawe and Wyse, of Just the Judge. And such by styrring as he rayses Backdrawing stayes, and Wandring keeps, For but returning rightest lynes again he bent to boWing mynds Wheels the Order that now stable keeps disseuerd all from Spring Wold faynte, This such is the common Loue to of all that with returne, for end of good be kept. In other sorte endure they could not Unles agayne returnd by Loue returnd Back to the cause that them made them the bond the bound38

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7. Prose Doo you see now What all these thinges We haue told May get get? What is that said I. that all fortune may be good. And how May that be? Attend said she, When euery fortune eyther plesing or hard be

38. them . . . bound The inserted corrections are in Elizabeth’s hand. 189. temper due or proportionate mixture; “temperies.” 190. plucks . . . spring “aufert / Obitu mergens orta supremo” (bears away / Burying in final end things that have been born). “Orta” (things that have been born) might also be construed as ‘things that have sprung up’ (“orior” means ‘to rise’). In the context of a description of the seasons, it probably suggested Elizabeth’s “spring.” 191. spring . . . first “fons et origo” (source and origin). 192. such . . . keeps such . . . stirring “quae motu concitat” (those he stirs to motion). such the planets. wand’ring keeps controls while they wander; “vaga firmat” (steadies wandering things). Boethius refers to the planets, which were known as “stellae vagae” (wandering stars). keeps controls, restrains.

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Dripping showers, winter moists. This temper189 feeds, and brings forth Whatso life in world doth breathe. The same, snatching, makes and plucks away, By the last gasp, ending spring.190 The Maker high, meanwhile, sits Ruling, bends of all, the reins, King and Lord: spring and first,191 Law, and wise, of just the Judge. And such by stirring as He raises, Back drawing, stays, and wand’ring keeps:192 For, but returning rightest lines, Again He bent to bowing wheels193 The order that now, stable, keeps; Dissevered all, from spring194 would faint. Such is the common love of all,195 That, with return, for end of good be kept. In other sort, endure they could not, Unless again, by love returned Back to the cause them made, they bound.196

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Prose 7 “Do you see now, what all these things we have told, may get?”197 “What is that?” said I. “That all fortune may be good.” “And how may that be?” “Attend,” said she. “When every fortune, either pleasing or hard, be

193. For . . . wheels “Nam nisi rectos revocans itus / Flexos iterum cogat in orbes” (For unless He called them back to their right courses / Forcing them to run in their bending circles again). 194. from spring “suo fonte” (from their spring, origin). 195. common . . . all love common to all; “cunctis communis amor.” 196. Unless . . . bound “Nisi converso rursus amore / Refluant causae quae dedit esse” (Unless, with love returned / They flow back to the cause that gave them being). bound rebound. 197. may get “consequatur” (have as a consequence).

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Made eyther to exercise and reward the good, or to punish and correct the yll, It is euident that all is a good cause that eyther is reVealed manifest to be iust or proffitable. I perceaue this reason to be Most true, And if I consider eyther prouidence or fate that you haue afore tolde this your opinion leanith I perceaue to steddyest ground. but let Vs set her yf please you Among such As We haue supposed to be out of Mens opinions, What is that said she? for the common speche of Men deceaues itself, and oft supposith mens fortunes hard. Will ye haue me a little draw neere to the Vulgarest opinions? As it please you said I. doo you not suppose that to be good that avayles, and that that exercisith vs correctly, perfitith, Then it is good. such thing as correctes exercises or corrects, good therfor? What els? but these belong to those which yther eyther Vertue vertuous, Jarre against aduersitie, or strayeng by from Vice takes Vertues sWaye. I can not deny it. May the common peeple deny that the rewarde is Not good, that good Men haue? No. for it Must Needes be the best. And What of all the rest? Will the common sorte think that that is Not best, that tho it be sharp, yet lymites Wicked men by iust punishment payne? Yea, quoth I. I think that to be the Most Misery of all. Let Vs beware Lest folloWing the common opinion We doo somthing Vnawares. by this that We haue graunted,

198. out . . . opinions “inopinabiles” (unthinkable). 199. Will . . . opinions? Elizabeth paraphrases only part of Lady Philosophy’s question: “Visne igitur . . . paulisper vulgi sermonibus accedamus, ne nimium velut ab humanitatis usu recessisse videamur?” (Do you want us then for a little while to assent to the common people’s way of speaking, lest we should appear to have withdrawn too far, as it were, from the practice of mankind?) draw . . . to The verb “accedo” (assent to) has a root sense of ‘approach, come near to,’ activated by Philosophy’s image of having ‘withdrawn’ (recessisse) from popular modes of thought. 200. Do . . . therefore? Elizabeth condenses into one Philosophy’s two questions, whether what exercises or corrects is profitable, and whether what exercises or corrects is therefore good (since what is profitable is good). She also omits two formulaic expressions of agreement by the speaker Boethius. 201. jar fight; “bellum gerunt” (wage war).

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made either to exercise and reward the good, or to punish and correct the ill, it is evident that all is a good cause, that either is manifest to be just or profitable.” “I perceive this reason to be most true, and, if I consider either providence or fate, that you have afore told, your opinion leaneth, I perceive, to steadiest ground. But let us set her, if please you, among such as we have supposed to be out of men’s opinions.”198 “What is that?” said she. “For the common speech of men deceives itself, and oft supposeth men’s fortunes hard.” “Will ye have me a little draw near to the vulgarest opinions?”199 “As it please you,” said I. “Do you not suppose that to be good, that avails, and such thing as exercises or corrects, good therefore?”200 “What else?” “But these belong to those which either, virtuous, jar201 against adversity or, straying from vice, takes virtue’s way.” “I cannot deny it.” “May the common people deny that the reward is not good, that good men have?”202 “No. For it must needs be the best.”203 “And what of all the rest?204 Will the common sort think that that is not best that, though it be sharp, yet limits wicked men by just pain?” “Yea,” quoth I. “[They] think205 that to be the most misery of all.” “Let us beware lest, following the common opinion, we do

202. May . . . have? A double negative, meaning ‘May the common people deny that the good man’s reward is good?’ “Quid vero iucunda, quae in praemium tribuitur bonis, num vulgus malam esse decernit?” (But what about the pleasant fortune, that is given to good man as a reward, do the common people judge it to to be bad?). 203. For . . . best “verum uti est ita quoque esse optimam censet” (as truly it is, so they [the common people] judge it the best). 204. all . . . rest “reliqua [fortuna]” (the remaining, i.e., the unpleasant [fortune]). 205. “Yea . . . think” “Yea” No, indeed—a now obsolete use of “yea” to assent to a negative question; “immo” (no, rather). [They] think “Windebank wrote “I think,” probably as a mistaken repetition of the immediately preceding “I.” Elizabeth may have dictated “they” or, simply, “think” as an ellipsis for ‘they [the common sort] think,’ rendering “cogitat.”

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We conclude that Worsse is the state of them that be eyther in the possibilitie, or in the aduaunce or obtayning of Vertue And yet byde in their iniquitie This is true said I tho No man dare confesse it. Wherfor said she, So ought Not a Wise Man beare with greefe eyth Fortunes Wrestell, as it becoms Not a strong man to be Mooued, When a battel begyns. For the hardness is Argument for bothe, eyther to inlarge his glory, or to confirme his Witt Wherby we call it force that stycking to his oWne strength is Not Won by Wo. for you cam Not to Vs in the aduancement of Vertue to Make Vs ouerflow with delites, or droWnd in pleashure, but that We should make a sharp battell against all Fortune, And that neyther the pleasure oppresse sowre oppresse you, Nor or pleasant corrupt you, the Middle Waye with steddy force Kepe maynteyne you. For Who so beneth this or beyond goes has But felicities contempte, no trauells rewarde, For in your hand it is What fortune you Will frame you, for What so seemith sharpest eyther inVres, correctes or punishith.

7. My[ter] of the fourth booke / 39 TWis fiue yeres WrathefuL Atride made With ΦriGians ruines War

39. 7 . . . booke / This caption is in Windebank’s italic hand. Meter 7, on fols. 70v–71v, is in Elizabeth’s hand. 206. do . . . unawares “quiddam valde inopinabile confecerimus” (we have reached something very unthinkable). Elizabeth omits Boethius’s immediately following demand for clarification. 207. worse . . . iniquity “eorum quidem qui vel sunt vel in possessione vel in provectu vel in adeptione virtutis, omnem quaecumque sit bonam, in improbitate vero manentibus omnem pessimam esse fortunam” (of those who are either in possession of, or making progress toward, or attaining to virtue, every fortune, whatever it may be, is good, but for those who persist in wickedness, every fortune is the very worst). By focusing only on the bad fortune of the wicked, Elizabeth’s rendering omits Philosophy’s claim that fortune is always good for the virtuous. 208. hardness . . . wit hardness . . . argument “difficultas ipsa materia est” (difficulty is itself the occasion). either . . . wit either for the brave man to gain glory or the wise man to strengthen his intelligence. confirm strengthen, rendering the cognate in Pulmann and all other sixteenth-century editions consulted, “confirmandae” (strengthening). 209. ‘force’ . . . strength “etiam virtus vocatur quod suis viribus nitens” (“virtus” is so called by reason of relying on its own strength). Boethius derives “virtus,” which connotes

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something unawares.206 By this, that we have granted, we conclude that worse is the state of them that be either in the possibility, or in the advance, or obtaining of virtue, and yet bide in their iniquity.”207 “This is true,” said I, “though no man dare confess it.” “Wherefore,” said she, “so ought not a wise man bear with grief Fortune’s wrestle, as it becomes not a strong man to be moved when a battle begins. For the hardness is argument for both: either to enlarge his glory, or to confirm his wit.208 Whereby we call it ‘force,’ that, sticking to his own strength,209 is not won by woe. For you came not to us in the advancement of virtue, to make us overflow with delights, or drowned in pleasure; but that we should make a sharp battle against all fortune.210 And, that neither the sour oppress you, nor pleasant corrupt you, the middle way211 with steady force maintain you. For whoso beneath this or beyond goes, has but felicity’s contempt,212 no travail’s reward. For, in your hand it is, what fortune you will frame you; for whatso seemeth sharpest, either inures, corrects, or punisheth.” Meter 7 Twice five years wrathful Atride made, With Phrygians’213 ruins, war,

both ethical virtue and manly spirit, from “vires” (physical strength, potency). Elizabeth’s rendering of “virtus” as “force” yields a tautology. 210. us . . . fortune us . . . pleasure The two first-person references here are explained by a misprint in Pulmann’s 1562 edition (corrected in 1580), where “nos” (us) is put in place of “vos” (you). The text should read “Neque enim vos in provectu positi virtutis diffluere deliciis et emarcescere voluptate venistis” (For neither have you, who are progressing toward virtue, come to dissolve in delights and to wither away in pleasure). With manifest strain, Elizabeth construes “nos” as the object of the compound verbs. but . . . fortune Like all other sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “Sed praelium cum omni fortuna nimis acre conseritis” (But you are engaged in an exceedingly bitter battle with every fortune). Elizabeth sustains the first-person plural pronouns from the earlier part of the sentence. 211. middle way A standard early modern expression for the golden mean and a literal rendering of Pulmann’s reading, “medium iter.” Modern editions read “medium” (the mean). 212. has . . . contempt is contemptuous of felicity. Elizabeth replicates “habet contemptum felicitatis.” 213. Atride . . . Phrygians’ Atride Boethius’s patronymic—“Atrides”—for Agamemnon, son of Atreus, who waged a ten-year war against the Phrygian city of Troy to avenge

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The Vnchast bed of brother So revenged he while hoisseding Sailes to Grecians Ship he gaue With Wische and bloud the Windes apeced dispoiLed of fathers Care the cruel priest his daughtars throte of life depriVed Vlysses Waild his Lost feers Whom bloudy PoLiϕemus in his Large den Gulped downe Unto his CrueL panche And yet furius yet With his YeLes hed his Joy repaid With Woful teares his oWne hardy Labors his hercules disd grace he Centaures proude did tame Of Skin the Lion flead With Certain shaftes the birdz did hit Snatched Aples from the Looking dragon his Left hand peaced40 With golden metaL Cerberus With threfold Cheane doth draWe A Victor he is said to set to the Lord for meat To CrueL forefoted bests Hidra kilLed by Venom Sered ArcaLous AcheLous stream With firy Looke droWned under the shore his Shamed face

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the abduction of Helen, his brother’s wife, by the Trojan prince, Paris. When the Greek fleet bound for Troy was becalmed at Aulis, Agamemnon obtained a favorable wind by offering his daughter Iphigenia as a sacrifice to the gods. 40. peaced peized. 214. He . . . appeased “Ille dum Graiae dare vela classi / Optat et ventos redimit cruore” (He, when he wishes for the Grecian fleet to set sail and buys off the winds with blood). With wish This phrase, as our punctuation suggests, might be read with “he gave,” yielding the sense ‘When he set sail on his Grecian ship with desire, and blood appeased the winds.’ The phrase might also, however, be read with “blood,” yielding the sense ‘When he set sail on his Grecian ship, and with desire and blood appeased the winds.” Both senses render aspects of the Latin. 215. Ulysses . . . own The Greek hero Odysseus’s slaying of the one-eyed, monstrous Cyclops, Polyphemus, who had imprisoned Odysseus’s companions in a cave and cruelly devoured some of them is recounted in Homer Odyssey 9. 216. Hercules Alternatively, Heracles, the Greco-Roman demigod who became a fully divinized Olympian. Different versions of his twelve labors appear in ancient authors. Those cited in lines 14–19 include the taming of the centaurs; the killing of the invincible Nemean lion, whose skin became Hercules’ cloak; the killing of the too noisy and too numerous Stymphalian birds; the taking of the Hesperian apples from their snake-guardian,

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The unchaste bed of brother, so, revenged. He, while hoisting sails to Grecians’ ship he gave With wish, and blood the winds appeased,214 Despoiled of father’s care, the cruel priest His daughter’s throat of life deprived. Ulysses wailèd his lost feres, Whom bloody Polyphemus in his large den Gulped down unto his cruel paunch; And furious yet, with his eyeless head, His joy repaid with woeful tears—his own.215 Hardy labors his, Hercules216 did grace: He centaurs proud did tame; Of skin the lion217 flayed; With certain shafts the birds did hit; Snatched apples from the looking dragon; His left hand, peized218 with golden metal, Cerberus with threefold chain doth draw. A victor, he is said to set the lord for meat To cruel four-footed beasts;219 Hydra killed, by venom seared;220 Achelous stream, with fiery look, Drowned under the shore his shamèd face.221

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whom Hercules may also have killed; and the carrying off of the multiheaded guard dog of Hades, Cerberus, who prevented the dead from returning to the light of the upper world. 217. lion Elizabeth omits Boethius’s adjective “saevo” (savage). 218. peized weighted, made heavier. 219. A . . . beasts “Victor immitem posuisse fertur / Pabulum saevis dominum quadrigis” (It is told how he, victorious, gave the cruel lord as food to his own savage horses). Hercules fed Diomedes the Thracian to his mares, in order to cure them of the man-eating ferocity in which Diomedes had trained them. 220. Hydra . . . seared Hercules killed the Lernian Hydra, a snaky, multiheaded, poisonous monster sent against him by the goddess Hera / Juno. As Hercules cut off the poison-spewing heads, one by one, his companion Iolas burned them. by . . . seared by having its poison burnt; “combusto . . . veneno” (when its poison was burnt). 221. Achelous . . . face Pulmann’s edition reads “Fronte turbatus Achelous amnis / Ora demersit pudibunda ripis” (Achelous the river, agitated of brow, / Buried his shamed face in his banks). with . . . look Like most sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “Fronte turbatus” (agitated of brow); modern editions read “Fronte turpatus” (disgraced in his brow). As a bull and then as a half-man, half-bull, Achelous tried to woo the princess Deianira, whom Hercules rescued in a combat where he tore off Achelous’s horn.

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Anteus he strake undar Libeans Sandes Cacus Apesed Euanndars Wrathe And thos Shuldars thos Wiche hy heauens Shuld pres The bore thos the Same With folme did marke The Last Labor heauen did binde beareing with nek unboWed The heauen decerues for Labors pane ForWard Go that Stronge be Wher hiest Way Of Graetest Sample bides Why SLuggardz baks do you tourne The erth Won the heauen she Giues /

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[Epigraph in Windebank’s italic hand:] This is the end of the fourth booke [Endorsement in Windebank’s italic hand:] The fourth booke. these are written with the hand of queene Elizabeth. 222. Antaeus . . . sands Antaeus, a Libyan king, killed strangers whom he forced to wrestle with him, renewing his strength by stretching himself upon the earth. Hercules defeated Antaeus by lifting him off the ground until his strength ebbed away. under . . . sands “Libycis harenis” (on Libyan sands). Elizabeth’s inappropriate preposition could be an inadvertent repetition of “under” in the preceding line. 223. Cacus . . . wrath Evander, ruler of a city on the site where Rome was eventually founded, ritually celebrated Hercules’ slaying of Cacus, a half-human monster who had terrorized the site’s inhabitants; see Virgil Aeneid 8.190–272 and Ovid Fasti 1.539–84.

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Antaeus he struck, under Libyans’ sands; 222 Cacus appeased Evander’s wrath;223 And shoulders, those which high heavens should press, The boar the same with foam did mark.224 The last labor:225 heaven bearing, with neck unbowed, The heav’n deserves for labor’s pain. Forward go, that strong be, where highest way Of greatest sample226 bides; Why, sluggards, backs do you turn? Th’ Earth, won, the heav’n she gives.227

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This is the end of the fourth book. The fourth book. These are written with the hand of Queen Elizabeth.

224. And . . . mark Hercules subdued a wild boar that lived on Mt. Erymanthus in Arcadia. should press “pressurus foret” (were [soon] to press). This refers to Hercules’ final labor of holding up the heavens, described next. 225. The . . . labor Hercules, as a temporary substitute for Atlas, held up the skies. 226. sample example. 227. The . . . gives The lack of an indirect object pronoun in both Boethius’s and Elizabeth’s rendering invites a double reading—deification granted to Hercules for his labors; heaven granted to the strong who follow his example.

The Fift Booke 1 1. Pro[se] This spake she and tournd the course of talk to treate and dispatche certain th other thinges. Then I told her, Right Was her exhortation, but Worthyest of all her Autoritie. but this I haue found by experience true, that lately you told me of Prouidence, hoW she Was Wrapt in diuers other matters. but I ask, Whither ther be any at all, or Whither Chaunce be. Then she told Me, I hye to performe My dett, and shew the thy the Way to bring the to thy Country. And tho these thinges for KnoWledge be most proffitable, Yet be they somwhat strayeng from the path of our Intent. And so must we Vse it, Lest Wearyed by the bye Crookes, thou mayst not be hable to endure the Journey to right Way. I feare Not that said I, for place of quiet I shall haue Most, to knoW such thinges as most delyte Me. And When all the Manner of thy

1. The . . . Booke This caption is in Windebank’s italic hand. He resumes his secretary hand with prose 1 of book 5. 1. but . . . authority “tuaque prorsus auctoritate dignissima” (and, moreover, most worthy of your authority). 2. how . . . matters “quaestionem pluribus aliis implicitam esse” (that it was a question involving many others). 3. whether . . . be “an esse aliquid omnino et quidnam esse casum arbitrere” (whether you think that chance is anything at all and what you think it is).

The Fifth Book Prose 1 This spake she, and turned the course of talk to treat and dispatch certain other things. Then I told her, right was her exhortation, but worthiest of all her authority.1 “But this I have found by experience true, that lately you told me of providence, how she was wrapped in divers other matters.2 But I ask, whether there be any at all, or whether chance be.”3 Then she told me: “I hie to perform my debt, and show thee the way to bring thee to thy country. And though these things for knowledge be most profitable, yet be they somewhat straying from the path of our intent. And so must we use it4 lest, wearied by the bycrooks, thou mayst not be able to endure the journey to right way.” “I fear not5 that,” said I. “For place of quiet I shall have, most to know such things as most delight me. And when all the manner of

4. so . . . it we must do it in such a way. use do, pursue some course of action. Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads “utendumque est” (it must be performed), corrected in 1580 to “verendumque” (it must be feared), the standard reading in other sixteenth-century and modern editions. “Use” is cognate with “uti” and has a similar semantic range in early modern English. 5. I . . . not “Ne . . . vereare” (Do not fear).

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disputation hath bene playne of greatest assurance, No cause I haue to doute of the rest. I Will obey thy Will quoth she, and thus began. Yf any man defynes chaunce to be a hap that lightes by rash motion and By no Knot of causes, then I graunte ther is no chaunce, And see it a Vayne Voyce that Nought signifies. for What place can ther be left for Rashnes, Wher God in order all keepith. for it is a true sayeng, That of Nought, nought is Made, agaynst Which none of our Auncesters the old Wryters could gayne say, tho they did Not suppose ther Were Any foundation Layde by him that all Made, but that all Were subiect to som Materiall cause, as tho the Nature of all reason Made it. but if ought ther be ther be that springes of No cause, it Must Needes be, it is Made of Nothing. And if this can Not be so, Nether is it possible for Any such chaunce to be, as We haue aboue reherst. What then quoth I, Ys ther Nothing that May be rightly calld chance or Luck, or is ther Any such, tho Vulgar peeple KnoWes Not, to whom such name pertayns? Aristotle myne quoth she in his Phisickes hath defynd it in A meer nere Reason to breefenes and trouth, HoW so quoth I, As oft quoth she, As Any thing is don for Any cause What euer, or for Any other cause that haps beside the intent of him that did it, that is called Chaunce, As if a Man digging Vp his grounde for cause of tylling, should fynde turnd Vp a Waight of golde, This is beleeuid euer to hap by chaunce. But it coms Not of Nought, for it hath his oWn proper occasion, of Which the happing and Vnlookt for Luck, seems to haue Wrought this hap. for if the ploW man had Not tild harroWd his ground, and yf the layer Vp, had Not there hid his Monny, gold there had Not bene found. These be the causes of happing Chaunce, because it coms of Meeting and agreeing causes, not from the Doers Intent. for neyther did he that hid it, nor he that ploWde it, Mynde to haue found it there, but this Agrees, that Made him fynde it, for that because

6. when . . . of when since. plain of full of. 7. by rash “temerario” (by random, fortuitous). In the next sentence Elizabeth renders “temeritati” (for randomness) as “for rashness.” 8. suppose . . . it Elizabeth struggles with the obscure reading in Pulmann and all other sixteenth-century editions consulted: “quamquam id illi non de operante principio, sed de materiali subiecto, hoc est, de natura omnium rationum, quasi quoddam iecerint fundamentum” (they laid this, as it were, as a foundation, although they applied it not to the

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thy disputation hath been plain of 6 greatest assurance, no cause I have to doubt of the rest.” “I will obey thy will,” quoth she; and thus began: “If any man defines chance to be a hap that lights by rash7 motion and by no knot of causes, then I grant there is no chance; and see it, a vain voice that naught signifies. For what place can there be left for rashness, where God in order all keepeth? For it is a true saying, That of naught, naught is made. Against which none of the old writers could gainsay, though they did not suppose there were any foundation laid by Him that all made, but that all were subject to some material cause, as though the nature of all reason made it.8 But if aught there be that springs of no cause, it must needs be, it is made of nothing. And if this cannot be so, neither is it possible for any such chance to be, as we have above rehearsed.” “What then,” quoth I. “Is there nothing that may be rightly called chance or luck? Or is there any such, though vulgar people knows not, to whom such name pertains?” “Aristotle mine,” quoth she, “in his Physics hath defined it, in a near reason9 to briefness and truth.” “How so?” quoth I. “As oft,” quoth she, “as anything is done for any cause whatever, that haps beside the intent of him that did it, that is called chance: as, if a man digging up his ground for cause of tilling, should find, turned up, a weight of gold. This is believed ever to hap by chance. But it comes not of naught, for it hath his own proper occasion, of which the happing and unlooked-for luck10seems to have wrought this hap. For if the plowman had not harrowed his ground, and if the layer-up had not there hid his money, gold there had not been found. These be the causes of happing chance, because it comes of meeting and agreeing causes, not from the doer’s intent. For neither did he that hid it, nor he that plowed it, mind to have found it there. But this agrees:

creative first principle but to matter subject to it, that is, to the nature of all principles). Modern editions read “hoc omnium de natura rationum,” yielding this sense: ‘they laid it, as it were, as a foundation of all arguments about nature, although they applied it not to the creative first principle but to the matter subject to it.’ 9. Physics . . . reason Physics 2.4–5. reason argument; “ratione.” 10. happing . . . luck “causas . . . quarum inprovisus inopinatusque concursus” (causes whose unforeseen and unexpected coming together).

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the other hid it. Therfore it is laWful to defyne Chaunce to be a thing Vnlookt for, and a hap groWing of such thinges As for an other intent be is don. but order it self that goes on with an Vnshonning turne, that it is, that Makith causes agree and meete, Which comming from the fountayne of Prouidence disposith All in their place and time.

I. Myter 2 Neare the Craggs of Achemians Rock Wher turned to foloWars brestz the flying Warior dartz doth throW3 from one springe Tigris eke Euϕrates arise Strait by Waters parted Soundred be Who met and in One Cours be reclaimed Thate Streame of that Eache depthe dreW agries Let top Sailes miet and truncks by Currant draWen and mixed Waters fiL the chaunging Cours And Suche falz as bending erthe hath Skattered A running Ordar of falling GuLfe ordars So What so Seame by SLakning Raines to SLip Chanchis bit yet indures and by a Law goes on

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2. I. Myter Meter 1 of book 5 is in Elizabeth’s hand, resuming the overall pattern that was suspended for a portion of book 4. The other Meters of book 5 are also in Elizabeth’s hand, except for a few minor stretches, locally noted. 3. to . . . throw In n38 of our introduction, pp. 65–66, we explain our modern-spelling lineation of this passage. 11. But . . . it “sed uti dixi, quo ille obruit hunc fodisse convenit atque concurrit” (but as I have said, where the one has buried agrees and coincides with where the other has dug). this agrees this is consistent; “convenit atque concurrit.” Both Latin verbs can mean ‘to be consistent.’ 12. with . . . turn “inevitabili conexione” (with inevitable connection). unshunning unavoidable (sole occurrence recorded in the OED). 13. Achaemians’ rock Achaemians Achaemenians, inhabitants of Persia. Achaemenes was the grandfather of Cyrus, king of Persia. rock cliff. 14. turned . . . throw The Parthians, who ruled Persia from 248 B.C.E. to 224 C.E., were famed for the skill of their cavalry in shooting arrows behind them as they retreated. followers’ pursuers’. flying fleeing.

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that made him find it, because the other hid it.11 Therefore it is lawful to define chance to be a thing unlooked for, and a hap growing of such things as, for another intent, is done. But order itself, that goes on with an unshunning turn,12 that it is, that maketh causes agree and meet, which, coming from the fountain of providence, disposeth all in their place and time.” Meter 1 Near the crags of Achaemians’ rock,13 where turned To followers’ breasts, the flying warrior darts doth throw,14 From one spring, Tigris eke Euphrates arise:15 Strait, by waters parted, sundered be; Who, met and in one course reclaimed, The stream that each depth drew agrees: Let topsails meet, and trunks by current drawn, And mixèd waters fill the changing course,16 And such falls as bending earth hath scattered, A running order of falling gulf orders.17 So, whatso seem by slack’ning reins to slip, Chance’s bit yet endures, and by a law goes on.18

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15. From . . . arise The mistaken belief that there was a single source for the Tigris and Euphrates rivers arose in later antiquity. Isidore Etymologiae 12.21.10 cites Sallust’s authority to this effect. 16. Who . . . course “Si coeant cursumque iterum revocentur in unum, / Confluat alterni quod trahit unda vadi / Convenient puppes et vulsi flumine trunci / Mixtaque fortuitos implicet unda modos” (If they should come together, brought back again into one course / If what the water of each stream bears should flow into one / Ships and tree trunks uprooted by the river will come together, / And their mingled water will churn in fortuitous ways). 17. And . . . orders “Quos tamen ipsa vagos terrae declivia casus / Gurgitis et lapsi defluus ordo regit” (Those wandering chances that the very slope of the earth / And the down-flowing course of the gliding flood control). falls things that befall; fortunes; “casus” (chance events, fortunes). “Casus” and “falls” both evoke their root, physical sense of ‘fallings’ and recall the earlier image of floating tree trunks. gulf the watery deep; “gurgitis.” The Biblotheca Eliotae defines “gurges” as “a goulfe.” 18. So . . . on “Sic quae permissis fluitare videtur habenis / Fors patitur frenos ipsaque lege meat” (So chance, that seems to float with slacked reins, / Endures the bridle and itself moves according to law).

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II. Prose I marke it said I, and as you say, so agree. but in this course of agreing causes, is ther Any liberty in our Will, or does a fatall chayne constrayne the Motions of Mens myndes? Ther is one said she. for Nether shold ther be a Naturall Reason, but that there Were An Arbitrable liberty. for that that Naturally can Reason Rule, that hath Judgement, by Which all by hit self discernes. Then it KnoWes both What to shun and Wish. he desyres that he Wisshith, and shuns that he thinkes Meete to flye. Wherfore to such as reason haue, th a liberty of Willing or denyeng is. but in all, I suppose not alyke. for to celestiall and divine substances ther is a playne iudgement and Vncorrupted Will, and a strong poWre ready to perform the desyred. And needes it must be that humanyn soules be freer When they kepe themselves in the contemplation of godes Will. and Lesse When they slyde to bodyes Care, and Lest of all, When they are lymed With earthly crases lyms4 But it is the greatest bondage, When they giuen to Vice hath fallen out of the possession of their oWn Reason. for When they throW theyr eyes from light of hyest truth to base and darkest maters, straight dymd by ignorance cloude are Vext With sLayeng affections. Which increasing, and agreing Vnto, they help heape that bondage that to themselves they bring, And are in a sort captiued by their oWn libertie. Which he do beholding that sees all from the first, and Vewes the sight of his oWn prouidence, all destenyes he desposith, agreing to their merit, all thinges beholdes and heares /

4. lyms limbs; “artubus.” 19. a . . . liberty a . . . reason “ulla rationalis natura” (any rational nature). arbitrable liberty “libertas . . . arbitrii” (freedom of the will). 20. He . . . fly He . . . wisheth “Quod vero quis optandum esse iudicat petit” (For a person certainly seeks what he judges is to be desired). fly flee. 21. plain full, entire, perfect; “perspicax” (penetrating, acute). 22. of God’s . . . limed of . . . will “mentis divinae” (of the divine mind). body’s care “ad corpora” (to bodies), a state evidently different from the earthly embodiment described in what follows. Commentators have seen an allusion here to the Platonic doctrine of the embodiment of souls as stars before their descent into earthly bodies. Elizabeth’s addition, “care,” is perhaps meant to flag the distinctiveness of this intermediate stage of corporeal descent. limed cemented, befouled; “colligantur” (are bound). 23. slaying destructive; “perniciosis.”

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Prose 2 “I mark it,” said I; “and as you say, so agree. But, in this course of agreeing causes, is there any liberty in our will, or does a fatal chain constrain the motions of men’s minds?” “There is one,” said she; “for neither should there be a natural reason, but that there were an arbitrable liberty.19 For that that naturally can reason rule, that hath judgment, by which all, by itself, discerns. Then it knows both what to shun and wish. He desires that he wisheth, and shuns that, he thinks meet to fly.20 Wherefore, to such as reason have, a liberty of willing or denying is; but in all, I suppose, not alike. For to celestial and divine substances there is a plain21 judgment and uncorrupted will, and a strong power ready to perform the desired. And needs it must be that human souls be freer, when they keep themselves in the contemplation of God’s will; and less when they slide to body’s care; and least of all when they are limed22 with earthly limbs. But it is the greatest bondage when they, given to vice, hath fallen out of the possession of their own reason. For, when they throw their eyes from light of highest truth to base and darkest matters, strait dimmed by ignorance’ cloud, are vexed with slaying23 affections which, increasing and agreeing unto, they he[l]p24 that bondage that to themselves they bring, and are in a sort captived by their own liberty. Which He beholding, that sees all from the first, and views the sight of His own providence,25 all destinies He disposeth, agreeing to their merit. ‘All things beholds and hears.’ ”26

24. he[l]p Windebank mistakenly substituted “heap” for his correct original reading “help,” a close rendering of “adiuvant.” 25. Which . . . providence Elizabeth personalizes and misconstrues an impersonal construction: “Quae tamen ille ab aeterno cuncta prospiciens providentiae cernit intuitus” (Yet that regard of providence, looking forth on all things from eternity, sees these things [i.e., the opposed free choices of men previously described]). In parsing “ille . . . providentiae . . . intuitus,” she evidently construed “ille” as the subject, “He” (God), and despite a nominative case ending, took “providentiae . . . intuitus” as an object, “the sight of His own providence.” 26. ‘All . . . hears’ Pulmann’s edition reads “Πάντ’ ἐφορᾶ, καὶ πάντ’ ἐπακούει” (All things sees, and all things hears). This is a quotation of Homer Iliad 3.277; Odyssey 12.323. All sixteenth-century editions place this line or its Latin equivalent here; modern editions position this line as the first of meter 2, where it is applied to Phoebus Apollo, and adapted to the syntax with infinitives replacing third-person singular verbs.

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2. M[yter] 5 CLeere Phebus With purest Light The honeyed mouth of Homer sings Who yet cannot the deepe Bowells of Earth and Sea with weake Sight of his beames pears may not Not So of the Great World the framar he Gainst him that aL from hy doth VieW No Waight of erthe may resist Not night With darkist CLouds Ganesays In moment stroke his mynd all Sees What Wer What be What shaL bifalL Whom Sole alone he AlL beholdes for that he al espies truly the may Sole CalL

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3. Pro[se] Lest I shold be confounded With a harder doute \ I pray you tell Me what this is for I can Not coniecture that that I do coniecture quoth she What Most troubles Me the, me thinkes it quoth I6 a crosse Mater and in it self disagreing, that God all KnoWes, and yet ther should be a free Will, for if god all forsees, Nor beguilde can neuer be, it Must Needes folloW that his prouidence hath seene, Must be. Then yf from the begynning, Not only only mens deedes, but their Counsells and Wills he hath forKnoWen, No free Will should be. for Nether can Any Man doo, nor Will, but that that his diuine neuer fayling prouidence KnoWes. for yf such thinges As be foreseene Might be turned, then shold there Not be An assured foresight of that shuld happen, but shold Make an breede an Vncertain opinion, Which to beleeue of god, I iudge iniquitie. for Nether do I allow that reason by Which som men beleeue, they

5. 2. M[yter] Lines 1–3 are in Windebank’s italic hand. Beginning with “and Sea” at the end of line 3, the remainder of meter 2 is in Elizabeth’s hand. 6. quoth I Elizabeth deletes her translation of “inquam” here. 27. Clear Brightly shining; “clarum” (bright, radiant). 28. pierce not “Non valet . . . perrumpere” (Cannot break through). 29. What . . . befall Lines 9–10 follow the order in Pulmann, the reverse of that in modern editions.

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Meter 2 Clear27 Phoebus with purest light, The honeyed mouth of Homer sings, Who, yet, the deep bowels of earth and sea, With weak sight of beams, pierce not.28 Not so, of the great world, the Framer: ’Gainst Him, that all from high doth view, No weight of earth may resist; Not night with darkest clouds gainsays. In moment’ stroke His mind all sees— What were, what be, what shall befall29— Whom sole, alone, for that He all espies, Truly they may “Sol”30 call.

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Prose 3 “Lest I should be confounded with a harder doubt—”31 “I pray you, tell me what this is. I do conjecture,” quoth she, “what most troubles thee.” “Methinks it a cross matter, and in itself disagreeing, that God all knows, and yet there should be a free will. For, if God all foresees, nor beguiled can never be, it must needs follow: That His providence hath seen, must be. Then if, from the beginning, not only men’s deeds, but their counsels and wills He hath foreknown, no free will should be. For neither can any man do, nor will, but that, that His divine, neverfailing providence knows. For, if such things as be foreseen might be turned,32 then should there not be an assured foresight of that should happen, but should breed an uncertain opinion, which, to believe of God, I judge iniquity. For neither do I allow that reason, by which

30. sole . . . “Sol” Elizabeth sustains Boethius’s pun: “Quem quia respicit omnia solus, / Verum possis dicere solem” (Him since He, only, sees all things / The true sun you could call). 31. Lest . . . doubt Lest Pulmann’s 1562 edition reads “Ne” (Lest), corrected in 1580 to the standard reading in Renaissance and modern editions, “En” (behold). The error turns a exclamation in the form of a complete sense unit into a dependent clause or, as we have punctuated it, a truncated utterance. 32. turned turned aside, diverted; “detorqueri.”

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can Lose7 the Knote of this question, for they say, that that shall not hap only because god has foreseene it, but contrariwise because it Was sure to hap, therfore the diuine prouidence Knoew it. and therfore it is Necessary that this shold fall to the contrary parte. for, because they are foreseene, that Makes not that they shall hap, but because they Must be, they are foreseene. As tho that is the cause Whatsoever is the of every nature any thing this Were the contention, Whither the cause of ech thing be the foresight foreknoWledge of Necessitie that so then it should be, or the fore prouidence of necessitie of God that must makes Necessitie. But We Will stryue to Make it playne, how the order of causes is such, that Necessary Must be the hap of that that chaunces Altho We doo not see aforehand the Neede of that haps. for if a Man sytt, of Necessitie he Must knoW that he syttes. for But and contraryWise, Whither the opinion be right that because he sittes, that therfore of Necessitie he Must sitt, In both ther is a Necessitie, in the one of sytting, in the other of truth. but it folloWes not that therfore he sittes, because the opinion Was true, that he did so but the opinion is rather true because he sat afore. So when truth is on both sydes, ther is A Necessitie of both. The lyke of r We Must reason of Prouidence and thinges to com, for altho altho they be foreseene because they shall hap, They hap Not yet bicause they are foreseene. Yet of necessitie they Must needes eyther hap foreseene, by god or prouided for chaunce, Which is ynough to Kyll the libertie of our Will. but hoW out of reason is it, that therin the hap of temporall thinges, should be said the cause of eternall foresight? for What is it els but to think that God therfore foresees that that is, because it should hap, than for to think that such thinges should hap, the diuine Prouidence is to be the cause. 7. Lose loose. 33. and . . . part “eoque modo necessarium hoc in contrariam relabi partem” (and in this way this necessity slips over to the opposite side). 34. But . . . haps But . . . such Elizabeth closely renders Pulmann’s reading, “At nos illud demonstrare nitamur quomodo sese habeat ordo causarum” (But let us try to show how the order of causes is such). necessary . . . haps She misses the thrust of “necessarium esse eventum praescitarum rerum, etiam si praescientia futuris rebus eveniendi necessitatem non videatur inferre” (the outcome of things foreknown is necessary, even if the foreknowledge seems not to confer on future things the necessity of occurring). 35. of necessity . . . sits “opinionem quae eum sedere coniectat veram esse necesse est” (the opinion that conjectures that he sits is necessarily true). 36. whether . . . must sit “si de quopiam vera sit opinio quoniam sedet, eum sedere necesse est” (if the opinion about any man, that he sits, be true, then he must be sitting).

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some men believe they can loose the knot of this question. For, they say, that that shall not hap only because God has foreseen it, but, contrariwise, because it was sure to hap, therefore the divine providence knew it; and therefore it is necessary that this should fall to the contrary part.33 For, because they are foreseen, that makes not that they shall hap; but, because they must be, they are foreseen. As though this were the contention: whether the cause of each thing be the foreknowledge of necessity, that so it should be; or the fore providence of God, that makes necessity. But we will strive to make it plain, how the order of causes is such, that necessary must be the hap of that that chances, although we do not see aforehand the need of that haps.34 For if a man sit, of necessity he must know that he sits;35 and, contrariwise, whether the opinion be right that, because he sits, therefore of necessity he must sit:36 in both there is a necessity—in the one, of sitting; in the other, of truth. But it follows not, that therefore he sits, because the opinion was true that he did so; but the opinion is, rather, true because he sat afore. So, when truth is on both sides, there is a necessity of both.37 “The like we must reason38 of providence and things to come. For, although they be foreseen because they shall hap, they hap not yet, because they are foreseen. Yet, of necessity, they must needs either hap foreseen by God, or provided for chance,39 which is enough to kill the liberty of our will. But, how out of reason is it, that the hap of temporal things should be said the cause of eternal foresight! For, what is it else, but to think that God therefore foresees, that that is, because it should hap, than for to think that such things should hap, the divine providence to be the cause?40 Besides, when I know

37. So . . . both “Ita cum causa veritatis ex altera parte procedat, inest tamen communis in utraque necessitas” (Thus, while the cause of truth proceeds from the one part, yet there is a necessity common to both). 38. we . . . reason Pulmann’s edition reads “ratiocinari oportet” (it behooves us to reason). 39. must . . . chance Pulmann’s edition reads “ab deo vel ventura provideri vel provisa evenire necesse est” (either must be foreseen by God because they are coming or must happen because they are foreseen). This passage is elliptically expressed in Boethius, and its key distinction may have eluded Elizabeth, whose rendering is cryptic. In the manuscript, “provided” is partially underlined, but no revision has occurred. 40. for to . . . cause to think that such things as happen to occur are caused by divine providence. Boethius reads, by contrast, “putare quae olim acciderunt causam summae

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Besides, When I KnoW any thing to be, it Must Needes be that that Was, So When I KnoW What shall be, It Must Needes be that so it shall be, and so it should folloW that the chaunce of that that is forseene foreseene can not be shund.shuned Lastly, yf any Man think aWry of that that is, Not only that is Not a an knoledge, but is a false opinion, fur different from the trouth of KnoWledge, So as yf Any thing so shall hap that of hit ther is no certain nor necessary hapning, Who can KnoW aforehand that that Must needes hap? for as the KnoWledge it self is Mixt with falshed, so Needes Must Nedely be the same that of her is gatherde. for that is the cause, Why science Wantes falshed, because it Must Needes be of Necessitie, such thing As true KnoWledge Must comprehend. What then? how doth god foreKnoW these Vncertain thinges. for if he perceaue happing chaunces, that can can not be shund, if it be possible that so such such thinges happens, than he is deceaued, Which Not only is iniquitie to think but as yll to speake. But if as if he KnoWes that they shall be such as they shall, in eyther KnoWing they shall hap, or Not chaunce, What a foreKnoWledg is this, that comprehendes Nothing sure Nor certain? for What Makes mater, or Why should We esteeme this MocKing prophecy prophecy of Tiressia8 What I shall say, or shall be be, or shall Not / Why should diuine prouidence excell humayn opinion? if it Judge Vncertainties As Men doo? Whose sequele is Vncertain. And if with him the surest founten of all thinges, not No Vncertaintie can abyde, sure is the hap of these thinges, that Vndoutedly he knoWith shall hap. Wherfore ther is no liberty in Mans Counsells Nor Actes, Which godes Mynd that all forsees Without falshodes errour tyes to and constrayns to one end. Which once concluded, What a fall shall hap

illius esse providentiae” (to think that these things once they have happened are the cause of His highest providence). 8. Tiressia Tiresias. 41. chance “eventus” (occurrence). 42. awry . . . is “quid . . . aliorsum atque sese res habet” (anything to be otherwise than it is). 43. is mixed . . . gathered is mixed “impermixta est” (is unmixed). so . . . gathered “ita id quod ab ea concipitur esse aliter atque concipitur nequit” (so that which is grasped by knowledge cannot be otherwise than as it is grasped). 44. science . . . comprehend science knowledge; “scientia.” it . . . comprehend “quod se ita rem quamque habere necesse est uti eam sese habere scientia comprehendit” (that each thing must necessarily be just as knowledge comprehends it to be).

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anything to be, it must needs be that that was. So, when I know what shall be, it must needs be that so it shall be; and so, it should follow, that the chance41 of that that is foreseen cannot be shunned. Lastly, if any man think awry of that that is,42 not only that is not a knowledge, but is a false opinion, far different from the truth of knowledge. So as, if anything so shall hap, that of it there is no certain nor necessary happening, who can know aforehand that, that must needs hap? For, as the knowledge itself is mixed with falsehood, so needs must be the same that of her is gathered.43 For that is the cause, why science wants falsehood, because it must needs be, of necessity, such thing as true knowledge must comprehend.44 “What then? How doth God foreknow these uncertain things? For, if He perceive happing chances that cannot be shunned, if it be possible that such things happens,45 then He is deceived: which not only is iniquity to think, but as ill to speak. But, if He knows that they shall be, such as they shall, in either knowing they shall hap, or not chance: what a foreknowledge is this, that comprehends nothing sure nor certain? For what makes matter, or why should we esteem this mocking prophecy of Tiresias?46 ‘What I shall say, Or shall be or shall not!’ Why should divine providence excel human opinion, if it judge uncertainties as men do, whose sequel is uncertain? And if, with Him, the surest Fountain of all things, no uncertainty can abide, sure is the hap of those things that undoubtedly He knoweth shall hap. “Wherefore there is no liberty in man’s counsels nor acts, which God’s mind, that all foresees without falsehood’s error, ties and constrains to one end. Which, once concluded, what a fall shall hap,

45. For. . . happens “Nam si inevitabiliter eventura censet quae etiam non evenire possibile est” (For if He judges those things will inevitably occur which it is yet possible may not occur). Either Elizabeth or Windebank has neglected to render the negative “non” in the final clause. 46. For . . . Tiresias For . . . esteem “Aut quid hoc refert” (Or how does this differ from). Elizabeth evidently does not recognize Boethius’s postclassical usage of “refert” with the ablative. Construing “refert” as ‘it matters,’ she takes the phrase to mean ‘how does this matter?’ and expresses that meaning twice. what . . . matter what does this matter? how is this important? Elizabeth adapts the sixteenth-century idiom “to make great matter” (to be of great importance). mocking “ridiculo” (ridiculous, absurd). Elizabeth evidently construes the adjective in its sense of ‘funny, amusing’ and associates it with derisive jesting. Tiresias In Horace Satires 2.5.59: “Quidquid dicam, aut erit aut non.”

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then to humain cause, is playne. For in Vayne reWardes to good and payne to yll be set, to Whom No Volontary and free Motion and Volu of the Mynde is due. And that should seeme Most Wicked of all other, that Now is deemed Justest / Eyther Wicked men be punisht or Wicked the good nedes rewarded, Whom No self Will turns them to eyther, but a certain Necessitie of hap compels them. So neyther should ther be Vice Nor Vertue but rather A Mixte and Vnseparable confusion of Merite. Wherby than Which nothing can be Wickedlyer imagyned, When all order of Maters is led by prouidence, and nothing Lawfull for mans determinations, hit hit concludes that all our faultes be turned to the Authour of all good. so should ther be No reason of hoping ought, or of intreating, for What should Any man hope or sue sue for, yf an an Vnturning p necessitie necessitie constrayned all thinges that We wishe wishe. so should the conuersation We haue Among Men, and comfort of god, be taken away, Which is of hope and prayer. For if not thoroW price of true true humilitie, they We might deserue the Vnestimable inclination of godes grace, being the only Meane Men seeme With god to speake and joyned to his his Vnexpressable light by Meane of our prayer, euin afore that We obtayne this, yt Which if We beleeue the Necessitie of thinges to hap, shall seeme to haue no strenghth, Wherby We May styck and cleave to the Prince of all thinges, And so of Necessitie, Mankynde, as a little afore thou hast told, shall consume disseuerd and disioynid from his oWn fountayne. 3. M[yter]. What disagrijng Cause the bond of all things breakes What God suche Wars tWixt th trothes makes That what so singly agreth Comply singLy agree 47. to whom . . . due to whom no free motion befalls by right; “quae nullus meruit liber ac voluntarius motus animorum” (which no free and voluntary act of their minds has deserved). due befalls by right. 48. conversation . . . God “illud inter homines deumque commercium” (that interchange between men and God). 49. For . . . unexpressible For Boethius reads “siquidem,” rendered by most modern translations consulted as “if indeed” but with a possible meaning of ‘seeing that, since.’ With the deletion of “if ” from the manuscript, presumably at Elizabeth’s behest, she gives the conjunction’s more assertive sense. This choice is significant in this reference to divine grace, one of the few passages in the Consolatio to articulate specifically Christian doctrine. Since the claim that a human being can “deserve”

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then, to human cause is plain. For, in vain, rewards to good and pain to ill be set, to whom no voluntary and free motion of the mind is due.47 And that should seem most wicked, of all other, that now is deemed justest: either wicked men be punished, or the good rewarded, whom no self-will turns them to either, but a certain necessity of hap compels them. So neither should there be vice nor virtue, but rather a mixed and unseparable confusion of merit. Whereby (than which nothing can be wickedlier imagined), when all order of matters is led by providence, and nothing lawful for man’s determinations, it concludes that all our faults be turned to the Author of all good. So should there be no reason of hoping aught, or of entreating. For what should any man hope or sue for, if an unturning necessity constrained all things that we wish? So should the conversation we have among men, and comfort of God,48 be taken away: which is, of hope and prayer. For through price of true humility we deserve the unestimable inclination of God’s grace, being the only mean men seem with God to speak, and join to His unexpressible49 light, by mean of our prayer, even afore we obtain it: which, if we believe the necessity of things to hap, shall seem to have no strength, whereby we may stick and cleave to the Prince of all things. And so, of necessity, mankind, as a little afore thou hast told, shall consume,50 dissevered and disjoined from his own Fountain.”

Meter 3 What disagreeing cause the bond of all things breaks? What god such wars ’twixt two truths makes, That whatso comply, singly, agree;51

grace runs counter to Reformation orthodoxy, her assertive “For” suggests that, by the 1590s, her beliefs stood at some remove from the tenet of justification by faith alone. unexpressible “inaccessae” (unapproachable). 50. a little . . . consume a little . . . told In book 4, meter 6, lines 45–48. consume waste away; “fatiscere.” 51. whatso . . . agree “Ut quae carptim singula constent” (That those things that stand firm, separate and alone). Elizabeth’s obscure, tautological rendering, perhaps meaning that ‘whatever by itself accords (with itself), agrees (with itself),’ comes from construing the verb “constare” in its sense of ‘to be consistent, to agree’ rather than ‘to stand firm, be steady.’

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The selsfsame mixt must be disioinged but discord none among the truthes befaLs And Certain Sure Vnto themselves do stik but mynd Opprest by blindid Limmes Can not by flame of oVerWhelmed Light The SmaL Knots of aL things Knowe finde but Why With Suche desire doth men true mynd seake The hiden Cause of thinges Seake serche Out KnoWes he not that gridely to knoW he Wyls Why striVes he to KnoWe again the had? If ignorant he be Why blindid things seakes he for Who that Wischeth that KnoWes not, what Or who foloWeth that hae Wotz not Or hoW may he finde or found KnoWe Suche forme of Wiche he knoWes not the shape And Whan he VieWes the hyest mynd The Chief and aL togither may he get, but noW the mynd hid in Limmes Cloudes hathe not yet of aL forgot his oWne And thogt the partz be Lost Retaines the chief hed Who euer Seakes the trueth to knoWe, Of nether Sort may is rightly Callsed

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52. But . . . stick “An nulla est discordia veris / Semperque sibi certa cohaerent?” (Or is there no discord among truths / And do they ever cohere firmly to each other?). In Pulmann’s 1562 edition the final question mark is a broken font that is hard to read, but the initial “An” implies either a question or a dubiety not registered in Elizabeth’s rendering. 53. But . . . find Elizabeth follows Pulmann in treating lines 7–9 as a single declarative statement. oppressed crushed, overcome; “obrupta” (buried, crushed, overwhelmed). flame . . . light the soul’s inner light, now extinguished by the body. overwhelmèd buried, crushed; “oppressi” (buried, smothered, extinguished). The . . . find “Rerum tenues noscere nexus” (Recognize the fine joinings of things). small fine (as opposed to coarse). 54. But . . . out? “Sed cur tanto flagrat amore / Veri tectas reperire notas?” (But why does it [the mind] blaze with such love / To find the hidden characters of truth?) In successive lines Elizabeth provides two different renderings of Boethius’s infinitive clause. doth . . . seek? does the mind seek what is true? The . . . things Elizabeth’s phrasing evokes Virgil Georgics 2.490: “Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas” (Happy is he who can know the causes of things). 55. Knows . . . greedily Knows . . . that Does he (already) know that which; “Scitne quod.” greedily hungrily, eagerly; “anxia” (anxious, uneasy). Lines 12–18 reprise the epistemological dilemma in Plato’s Meno 80D–E.

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The selfsame, mixed, must be disjoined? But discord none, among the truths befalls, And certain, sure, unto themselves do stick.52 But mind oppressed by blinded limbs Cannot, by flame of overwhelmèd light, The small knots of all things find.53 But why, with such desire doth true, mind seek, The hidden cause of things search out?54 Knows he that greedily55 to know he wills? Why strives he to know again, the had?56 If ignorant he be, why blinded things seeks he?57 For who that wisheth, that knows not what? Or who followeth, that he wots not? Or how may he find, or, found, know Such form, of which he knows not shape? And when he views the highest Mind, The chief, and all together, may he get?58 But now the mind, hid in limbs’ clouds, Hath not, of all, forgot his own; And, though the parts be lost, retains the head. Whoever seeks the truth to know, Of neither sort is rightly called:

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56. Why . . . had? Elizabeth’s rendering adjusts for an evident printer’s error—“laboras” in place of “laborat,” corrected in 1580—but otherwise closely follows Pulmann’s 1562 edition, “Sed quid nota rescire labora[t]?” (But why does it [the mind] labor to reknow known things?). 57. If . . . he? Like all other sixteenth-century editions consulted, Pulmann’s reads “Et si nescit, quid caeca petit?” (And if it [the mind] is ignorant, why, blind, does she seek?). Elizabeth construes “caeca” not as a nominative singular modifying the implied feminine subject “mens” but as an accusative plural, “blinded things.” Perhaps she forgot that the implied subject “mens” is feminine, since she translates it as “he” in this and the two preceding lines. 58. And . . . get? “An cum mentem cerneret altam, / Pariter summam et singula norat?” (Or when it perceived the lofty Mind [God], / Did it recognize equally the whole and the parts?) chief most excellent. Elizabeth construes Boethius’s repeated “summam”—here, the whole as opposed to the parts—in its sense of ‘the top,’ ‘the crowning stage’: hence “chief,” “head” (23), and “top-of-all” (27). all This is Boethius’s reiterated “singula”—separated things, the parts as opposed to the whole—in its sense of ‘every single one.’ Elizabeth later renders it more aptly as “parts” (23). get learn (a rare sense).

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for nether aL doth knoWe nor ignorant of aL but top of al retaining kipes by Whos aduist from hy the Seen drawingeth that better he may The partz forgot to the Kept reJoinge 4. P[rose]. This is An old Quarrell quoth she, of prouidence, Vehemently handed by Tully, When he deuided desteny and though of a thing by the Much and long sought, but yet Not by Any of you sufficient Nor certainly certainly found out. Whose cause of darkness is, for that the Motion of Mans Resons can Not attayne the purenes of godes for foreknoWledge, Which yf she might by Any Meanes imagine, No doute at all, Were left left: Which yet I Will attempte to expresse and make pLayne, if I haue once dispatcht the thinges that first thou Mouest. For I ask, Why dost thou think the reason of Man that Wold expresse it, is Not sufficyent? Which because for that hit supposith the prescience Not to be the cause of Necessitie to haps, therfore thinkes that free Will is let thoroW the foresight. for Whence dost thou drawe thy argument of the Necessitie of haps, but supposing they are foreknoWen, they Must Needes hap. Yf therfore the foreKnowledge doo ad no necessitie to that folloWes, as thou thy self C confest, What cause is ther then that our Volontary haps should be compeld to a strong the sure end of causes. for Argumentes sake, mark What Wold folloW, Then should We agree ther Were No pres prescience. Are they compelled to a Necessitie, because they hap of by our oWn free Will? No Let Vs reson that he haue free Will, and Yet that it Makes no

59. But . . . rejoin “Sed quam retinens meminit summam / Consulit alte visa retractans, / Ut servatis queat oblitas / Addere partes” (But keeping the whole, he remembers / And recollecting, he reflects on things seen on high, / That he might to those things he has preserved / Add the forgotten parts). draw’th adduces, rendering “retractans” (recollecting). The physical sense of “draweth” additionally evokes the physical sense of “retractans” as ‘drawing back.’ The parts . . . rejoin rejoin the forgotten parts to what is kept. 60. Tully . . . destiny “Tullio, cum divinationem distribuit” (Cicero, when he distinguished kinds of divination). The inexact reference is probably to De divinatione 2.8; editors propose various emendations. handed handled. divided drew distinctions concerning. 61. if . . . movest Pulmann’s edition reads “si prius ea quibus moveris expediero” (once—literally, if—I have first settled the things by which you are disturbed). dispatched settled.

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For neither all doth know, nor ignorant of all, But top-of-all retaining, keeps, by whose advice, From high, the seen draweth, that better he may, The parts forgot, the kept rejoin.59 Prose 4 “This is an old quarrel,” quoth she, “of providence, vehemently handed by Tully, when he divided destiny60—and a thing, by thee, much and long sought, but yet not, by any of you, sufficient nor certainly found out. Whose cause of darkness is, for that the motion of man’s reasons cannot attain the pureness of God’s foreknowledge: which, if she might by any means imagine, no doubt at all were left. Which, yet, I will attempt to express and make plain, if I have once dispatched the things that first thou movest.61 For, I ask, why dost thou think the reason of men that would express it, is not sufficient— which, for that it supposeth the prescience not to be the cause of necessity to haps, therefore thinks that free will is let62 through the foresight? For whence dost thou draw thy argument of the necessity of haps, but supposing they are foreknown, they must needs hap? If, therefore, the foreknowledge do add no necessity to that follows, as thou thyself confessed, what cause is there, then, that our voluntary haps should be compelled to the sure end of causes?63 For argument’s sake, mark what would follow then. Should we agree there were no prescience, are they compelled to a necessity, because they hap by our own free will?” “No.” “Let us reason that [w]e have free will,64 and yet that it makes no

62. the reason . . . let the reason . . . sufficient “illam solventium rationem minus efficacem” (that explanation of those doing the solving not fully effectual). express give an account of. is let is allowed (to remain); “nihil impediri” (is not at all restricted). 63. our . . . causes? “voluntarii exitus rerum ad certum cogantur eventum?” (the outcomes of things dependent on the will should be compelled to end in a certain result?). 64. Let . . . will “Statuamus iterum esse” (Let us again suppose it to be). The clear contextual reference is to supposing “again” the existence of foreknowledge, not free will. [w]e Windebank wrote “he,” evidently mishearing Elizabeth. Boethius reads “statuamus” (let us suppose).

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Necessitie, then yt remaynes that our free Will is Wholle and soWnde. but thou Wilt saye, foresight tho it bring no ce Necessity th that thinges Must hap, Yet it is a toKen that such thinges May hap, And by this Meanes tho there Were No foreknowledge, Yet Necessary end of thinges shold be, for every lyke shoWes What it is, but sh doth not Make that it shoWes. Wherfore We conclude that som thinges hap of Necessitie, so that the foreKnoWledge seemes to be a foretoKen of the Necessitie, or els if it Were No foreKnoWledge, hit could Not be the signe of that it shoW Which should Not is Not. NoW you haue the conclusion euident by a fyruente fyrme reson, Which is not draWen out of signes and arguments that be farr from the mater, but of conVenient and Necessary causes. but hoW haps hit that those thinges do Not chaunce that be foreseene to God shall be? as tho We did not beleeue that such thinges such should not hap, Which the diuine prouidence hath foreKnoWen shall hap, but rather rather this Doo We think, tho they doo chaunce, No Necessitie of Nature hath made them so to be; Which heerby thou mayst easely easely see, for We beholde Many thinges While they be don, subiect to our sight, so as euin As such thinges are We looke that Car men shold doo in draWeng and turning of those he guydes, And so of all other Maters. but doth Any necessitie compell this? No. For in Vayne should be the end of art, yf all thinges, compeld Were Mooued. such thinges therfore As When they are don, our Wantes A necessitie to compell them such thinges Were afore necessitie required to doo it the same afore they be don, without Necessity must be Wherfore som thinges there be that haps, Whose end is free from all Necessitie. for I suppose No Man Will saye, that 65. such . . . hap “necessario ea esse ventura” (they will necessarily come to be). 66. necessary . . . be “necessarios futurorum exitus esse constaret” (it would be agreed that the outcomes of future things are necessary). 67. For . . . shows “Omne etenim signum tantum quid sit ostendit, non vero efficit quod designat” (For every sign only shows what is, but it does not cause what it signifies). like likeness, representation; “signum.” Elsewhere in this passage Elizabeth translates “signum” as “token,” “foretoken,” and, in the plural, “signs.” 68. we . . . necessity we conclude “demonstrandum prius est” (it must first be demonstrated). some . . . necessity “nihil non ex necessitate contingere” (that nothing does not happen of necessity). Elizabeth construes “nihil non” (nothing . . . not) as if it were “non nihil” or “nonnihil” (some, something). 69. if . . . be “si haec nulla est, ne illa quidem . . . poterit esse” (if the one [necessity] does not exist, then the other [foreknowledge] will not be able to be). Elizabeth construes the two pronouns as if both had the antecedent “foreknowledge.”

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necessity; then it remains that our free will is whole and sound. But thou wilt say: foresight, though it bring no necessity that things must hap, yet it is a token that such things may hap.65 And, by this means, though there were no foreknowledge, yet, necessary end of things should be.66 For every like shows what it is, but doth not make that it shows.67 Wherefore we conclude that some things hap of necessity,68 so that the foreknowledge seems to be a foretoken of the necessity. Or else, if it were no foreknowledge, it could not be69 the sign of that which is not. Now you have the conclusion evident by a firm reason, which is not drawn out of signs and arguments that be far from the matter, but of convenient70 and necessary causes. “But how haps it, that those things do not chance, that be foreseen shall be? As though we did believe that such things should not hap, which the divine providence hath foreknown shall hap. But rather this do we think: though they do chance, no necessity of nature hath made them so to be, which hereby thou mayest easily see: for we behold many things while they be done, subject to our sight, even as such things we look that car-men71 should do in drawing and turning of those he guides, and so, of all other matters. But doth any necessity compel this?” “No. For in vain should be the end of art,72 if all things, compelled, were moved.” “Such things, therefore, when they are done, wants a necessity to compel them: the same afore they be done, without necessity must be.73 Wherefore, some things there be that haps, whose end is free

70. Now . . . convenient Now . . . drawn “Iam vero probationem firma ratione subnixam constat non . . . esse ducendam” (Now it is agreed that a proof supported by firm reasoning is not to be drawn). of convenient from befitting; “ex convenientibus.” 71. car-men charioteers; “aurigae.” 72. end . . . art outcome of skill; “artis effectus.” “Effectus” can mean ‘outcome’ but in this context is closer to ‘exercise, carrying out.’ 73. must be “futura sunt” (are future things). It is curious that Elizabeth never employs the English cognate for Boethius’s repeated term “futura” anywhere in her translation. The word had figured prominently in the first and the last line of her best-known lyric, “The Doubt of Future Foes” (CW, 133–34). Perhaps the sinister overtones of her earlier usage provoked her later avoidance.

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those thinges could Neuer hap Which he hath seene to be don, therfore these thinges fore Knowen haue their haps free, for as KnoWledge bringes no Necessity to doo, so foreknoWledge compels Nothing to be don; but thou Wilt saye, This is douted, Whither ther can be Any fore KnoWledge of that that Necessarily must not hap: for that seems to disagree. Dost thou think that necessitie Must Needes folloW such thinges As are foreseene? yf ther be No Necessity, it can Not be foreKnoWen, and so Nothing can be comprehended by knoWledge but it Must be certain. And yf We beleeve Vncertain haps to be None, that but such As certain KnoWledge hath foreseene, it is playne that that is the darknes of our opinion, Not the trouth of our KnoWledge. for els otherwise than truth is, thou shouldest think, and haue a beleefe aWry from the integrytie of that is true KnoWledge, of whose errour errour this is cause, that Men suppose all thinges that they KnoWe to be deryued of the force and nature of the causes them selves, Which Wholly is contrary. for all that is knoWen, is comprehended not according to his Worth, but by the according to the KnoWers poWre, for as by this short example it is playne, that the bodyes compasse formes circuite of the a body is KnoWen diuersly by sight and diuersly by touche knoWledge, touche for When the hit remayns aboue, he he does from thence behold all With beames cast abrode, but when kept in his oWn circle, and so bound in about the compasse of his oWne motion, he circles RoWndnes With his oWne partes parceaveth so Man himself is beheld in diuerse sorts, by sense, Imagination, reson and

74. those . . . done “quae nunc fiunt, prius quam fierent, eventura non fuerint” (those things that are happening now, before they happened, were not going to happen). 75. knowledge . . . do “scientia praesentium rerum nihil his quae fiunt . . . necessitatis importat” (knowledge of present things brings no necessity to the things that are happening). 76. of . . . hap of that which must not necessarily happen; “earum rerum quae necessarios exitus non habent” (of those things that do not have necessary outcomes). 77. that . . . disagree Elizabeth closely follows Pulmann’s 1562 edition, which reads “dissonare etenim videtur” (for it seems to be incompatible). “Videntur” is the reading in all other editions consulted, including Pulmann’s 1580 edition, which yields the more logical locution “dissonare etenim videntur” (they—i.e., the foreknowledge and nonnecessary outcomes just mentioned—seem to be incompatible). 78. Dost . . . foreseen? The source poses no question at this point. This sentence and the next constitute Philosophy’s summary of what the Boethius figure in the dialogue believes.

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from all necessity. For I suppose no man will say that those things could never hap, which he hath seen to be done.74 Therefore, these things foreknown, have their haps free. For, as knowledge brings no necessity to do,75 so foreknowledge compels nothing to be done. But thou wilt say: this is doubted, whether there can be any foreknowledge of that, that necessarily must not hap.76 For that seems to disagree.77 Dost thou think that necessity must needs follow such things as are foreseen?78 If there be no necessity, it cannot be foreknown; and so nothing can be comprehended by knowledge, but it must be certain. And if we believe uncertain haps to be none but such as certain knowledge hath foreseen, it is plain that79 this is the darkness of our opinion, not the truth of our knowledge. For else, otherwise than truth is, thou shouldest think, and have a belief awry from the integrity of true knowledge.80 Of whose error this is cause: that men suppose all things that they know, to be derived of the force and nature of the causes themselves: which wholly is contrary. For all that is known, is comprehended, not according to his worth,81 but according to the knower’s power. For as, by this short example, it is plain that the circuit of a body is known diversely by sight, and diversely by touch: for when it remains above, does82 from thence behold all, with beams cast abroad; but when kept in his own circle, and so, bound in about the compass of his own motion, he circle’s roundness with his own parts perceiveth.83 “So man himself is beheld in divers sorts, by sense, imagination,

79. And . . . that And . . . foreseen “quod si quae incerti sunt exitus ea quasi certa providentur” (But if those things which are of uncertain outcome are foreseen as if they were certain). it . . . that Elizabeth follows Pulmann’s reading, “constat id esse” (it is apparent that it is). 80. For . . . knowledge “Aliter enim ac sese res habeat arbitrari ab integritate scientiae credis esse diversum” (For you believe that to think that things are other than they are is remote from the integrity of knowledge). 81. his worth its worth; “sui vim” (its force). 82. it . . . does i.e., the sense of sight . . . does. 83. but . . . perceiveth “hic vero cohaerens orbi atque coniunctus circa ipsum motus ambitum rotunditatem partibus comprehendit” (the latter sense [touch] being united and conjoined to the round body, going around its circuit, grasps the roundness part by part). Elizabeth’s lack of a new grammatical subject and her repeated addition “his own” suggest that she construed this as a continuing description of sight, not a contrasting description of touch.

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Vnderstanding, for sense Judgith of the figure that is set in his Materiall subject. Ymagination lookes Vpon her forme, Without her Matter. but Reason ouerpassith this, and Wayeth her show Which remaynes in all thinges by An Vniuersall consideration, but Vnderstandinges eye Lookith hyer, for ascending to the Largenes of the Vniuersalitie, Lookes Vpon her s simple forme, With the pure Myndes insight. In Which this is Most to be considered for the Vppermost force of Vnderstanding, includith the inferiour but the LoWer can neuer Ryse Vp to the hyar. for Nether is sense ought Worth Without his subiect or Ymagination behold Vniuersall formes, or Reson comprehend the simple forme, but Vnderstanding as Looking from aboue conceauing the right forme, Judgith A right of all thinges that be Vnder, and in that sort comprehendes it As knoWen to None other. for hit knoWith the Vniuersality of Reason, the shape of ymagination and senses Matter, Nor Vsing reason imagination Nor sense, but in to orderly by one twynkell of the Mynde, all ouerLookith. Reson allso When hit beholdith All thinges can Not comprehend by ymagination, nor Vsing sense, such thinges As be to be ymagened and to be felt. For this is hit, that defynes the Vniuersalitie of euery Mans conceyte. A man is A Resonable ij footed Creature, Which When being tho it be An Vniuersall KnoWledge, Yet No Man is ignorant but hit hath sense and Imagination. Which No man considerith by imagination or sense, but by a reasonable conceyte. for For tho Imagination also altho tooke her begynning of the sense of sight seing and forming figures, Yet tho sense sense Were away, it respectith all sensible thinges, tho With A sensible and imaginary reason reason. Do you Not see then how in knoWing all they rather Vse their oWn 84. sense . . . understanding This classification of modes of cognition has its origins in Aristotle De Anima (On the Soul) 3.3; his treatment was codified by later commentators and philosophers. “Sense” (“sensus”) is perception, “imagination” (“imaginatio”) the mental power to create images, “reason” (“ratio”) the ability to reason from particulars to universals, and “understanding” (“intelligentia”), ascribed by Boethius to God, the ability to grasp the underlying unity of things. 85. figure . . . subject “figuram in subiecta materia constitutam” (the shape set in its underlying material). 86. her . . . things “speciemque ipsam quae singularibus inest” (the species / appearance itself, which is present in each individual). show appearance. In this metaphysical context, “speciem” is perhaps better construed as ‘species,’ but some modern translations similarly construe it as ‘appearance.’ 87. without . . . subject “extra materiam” (outside of matter).

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reason, and understanding.84 For sense judgeth of the figure that is set in his material subject.85 Imagination looks upon her form, without her matter. But reason overpasseth this, and weigheth her show which remains in all things86 by an universal consideration. But understanding’s eye looketh higher: for, ascending to the largeness of the universality, looks upon her simple form with the pure mind’s insight. In which this is most to be considered: for the uppermost force of understanding includeth the inferior, but the lower can never rise up to the higher. For neither is sense aught worth without his subject,87 or imagination behold universal forms, or reason comprehend the simple form; but understanding, as looking from above, conceiving the right form, judgeth aright of all things that be under, and in that sort, comprehends it as known to none other. For it knoweth the universality of reason, the shape of imagination, and sense’s matter; nor using reason, imagination, nor sense, but orderly, by one twinkle88 of the mind, all overlooketh. Reason, also, when it beholdeth all things,89 cannot comprehend by imagination; nor using sense, such as be to be imagined and to be felt. For this is it that defines the universality of every man’s conceit:90 a man is a reasonable, two-footed creature. Which, though it be an universal knowledge, yet no man is ignorant but it hath sense and imagination, which no man considereth by imagination or sense, but by a reasonable conceit. For, though imagination took her beginning of seeing and forming figures, yet, though sense were away, it respecteth all sensible things, though with a sensible and imaginary reason.91 Do you not see, then, how in knowing all, they rather use their own

88. by . . . twinkle with one momentary glance; “uno ictu” (with one stroke). The OED cites Elizabeth’s “twinkle” of the mind, not the eye, as its sole instance of this kind. Her metaphorical use well suits Boethius’s pervasive use of ocular imagery to figure divine understanding and providence. 89. all things “quid universale” (some universal). 90. For . . . conceit Pulmann’s edition reads “Haec est enim quae conceptionis suae universale ita definit” (For this [i.e., reason] it is that defines in such a way the universal that it has conceived). Boethius proceeds to give the definition of man as an example of reason’s treatment of universals. 91. respecteth . . . reason respecteth regards; “conlustrat” (surveys). though . . . reason Elizabeth misconstrues “non sensibili sed imaginaria ratione iudicandi” (not by a sensible but by an imaginative method of judging).

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propertie than of thinges KnoWen, and that by reason: for When all Judgement remaynes in the acte of the Juger, it Must Needes follow that euery Man performs his Worke not by others poWre, but his oWn. 4. M[yter] 9 Ons in the porche Wer broght in men Of obscure φ Line and old the Wer Who Sens and Image n out of Lest motes In mens myndz ingrauen belieue As Oft haps the running stile In Seayng paper Leue Some printid Lettars stik That marke haue none at alL but if the mynd by her oWne raigning Expres by motions nought Saue onLy patient Lies Subiect to bodies markes And Vain the fourmes GlasLike of all doth make Whenche this that in our mynd raignge raignes KnoWLege of aL discernes Whos what poWer aL beholdz

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9. 4. M[yter] This poem, in Elizabeth’s hand, has been bound within the text of prose 4, on fol. 78r. 92. by . . . man by reason reasonably; “Neque . . . iniuria” (nor wrongly). remains . . . judger Pulmann’s edition reads “in iudicantis actu existat” (is in the act of the one judging). remains in consists of. every man “quisque” (each one—here, each mode of cognition). 93. the Porch The “Stoa Poikilé,” or Painted Porch, a precinct of the central public place in Athens, where Zeno, founder of the Stoic school of philosophers, delivered his lectures. 94. out . . . motes “e corporibus extimis” (from outermost bodies, i.e., external bodies). least Elizabeth probably interpreted “extimis” in the sense given by Biblotheca Eliotae and Thomas Thomas, as “last” in quality and importance, hence “least.” motes minute particles, atoms. Translating “corporibus” (bodies) to accord with her interpretation of “extimis,” Elizabeth recalls the use of “corpus” in classical Latin to refer not only to bodies in the normal sense but also to minute portions of matter, particles, and atoms (see, e.g., Cicero De finibus 1.6.17).

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property, than of things known? And that by reason: for when all judgment remains in the act of the judger, it must needs follow that every man92 performs his work, not by others’ power, but his own.”

Meter 4 Once, in the Porch,93 were brought in men Of obscure line, and old they were, Who sense and image, out of least motes,94 In men’s minds engraven believe: As oft haps the running style In sea-y paper95 leave; Some printed letters stick, That mark have none at all.96 But if the mind, by her own reigning, Express by motions naught, Save only patient lies,97 Subject to bodies’ marks, And vain the forms, Glasslike, of all doth make:98 Whence this that in our mind reigns, Knowledge of all, discerns?99 What power all100 beholds?

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95. style . . . paper style stylus; “stilo.” In . . . paper “aequore paginae” (on the smoothness of a page). sea-y sealike. Elizabeth’s coinage evidently arises through association: the frequent use of “aequor” to mean a calm sea. 96. Some . . . at all Elizabeth sacrifices clarity by inverting the order of lines: her lines 7 and 8 correspond to Boethius’s lines 9 and 8 respectively. He first expatiates on the blank page (8) before describing the impress of letters upon it (9). “That mark have none at all” (8) renders “Quae nullas habeat notas” (9), describing the initially blank page. 97. But . . . lies But . . . naught “si propriis vigens / Nihil motibus explicat” (if [the mind], flourishing in its own motions, unfolds nothing). reigning flourishing; “vigens.” Elizabeth also translates “viget” as “reigns” (15). Save . . . lies But passive only lies; “Sed tantum patiens iacet.” patient passive. 98. And . . . make “Cassasque in speculi vicem / Rerum reddit imagines” (And like a mirror reflects by turns / The vain images of things). 99. Knowledge . . . discerns “Cernens omnia notio” (A concept discerning all things— i.e., universals, as thought by the human mind). 100. all “singula” (singulars—as distinguished from parts). Elizabeth’s eye presumably skipped; she retranslates “omnia” from the preceding line.

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Who the knoWen deuides And knoWing eache Way Now lifts on hie the hed Than falz to Lowest thinges Than gathering in hit selfe With true the fals bebukes This is the making Cause Wiche muche more mightiar is Than Suche as only materiaL markes Receaues With Soudaine her oWne prints but yet a passion doth begin and Sturs The myndz poWer fors While body liues Whan ether Light the yees doth take hit Or Sound in ear doth strike Than sturred strengh of mynd What figures Within hit holds Joigntes Like he CaLs Applies them to the outWard knoWen And fancies mixe to formes That hiden rest Within / 10

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5. Prose For yf in feeling bodyes, the motions that be Made outWardly affecte the senses properties, and that a passion of the the bodyes hath passion doth go afore the strenghth of the doers Mynde, Which prouokes the Myndes passion, action and styrrith in meane While the quiet fansyes that inWard remaynes, Yf in sensible bodyes I saye the Mynde is Not afflicted With passion But by Violence shewith the same that the body 10. Applies . . . Within / After exhausting space for writing lines horizontally on fol. 79r, Elizabeth wrote lines 35–37 vertically in the right margin under a heavily drawn rule. 101. divides? Elizabeth does not translate the next line, likewise marked as a question in Pulmann’s edition, “Quae divisa recollegit?” (What force collects again the things divided?). 102. knowing “legens” (taking). 103. making cause “efficiens causa” (efficient cause). 104. Joints . . . calls Summons similar joinings or connections. Joints Jointures, Joinings. Elizabeth’s obscure line follows Pulmann’s erroneous 1562 reading “Admotus similes vocans,” corrected in 1580 to the standard “Ad motus similes vocans” (Calling to similar motions). She presumably construed “admotus” as the accusative plural of the noun “ad-

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Who the known divides?101 And, knowing102 each way, Now lifts on high the head, Then falls to lowest things; Then, gath’ring in itself, With truth, false rebukes? This is the making cause,103 Which much more mightier is Than such as only material marks Receives with her own prints. But yet a passion doth begin, and stirs The mind’s force, while body lives, When either light the eyes doth hit, Or sound in ear doth strike. Then, stirrèd, strength of mind, What figures within it holds, Joints like, he calls,104 Applies them to the outward known, And fancies mix105 to forms That, hidden, rest within.

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Prose 5 “For if, in feeling bodies, the motions that be made outwardly, affect the senses’ properties, and that the body’s passion doth go afore the strength of the doer’s mind, which provokes the mind’s action, and stirreth in, meanwhile, the quiet fancies that inward remains—if, in sensible bodies, I say, the mind is not afflicted with passion, but, by violence, showeth the same106 that the body makes—how much more motus,” defined by Elyot and Thomas Thomas as “a moving or putting to”—hence, “joints” in the sense of ‘joinings.’ 105. outward . . . mix outward known “Notis . . . externis” (with marks received from without). Elizabeth aptly translates “notas” as “marks” (26), but here she evidently construes “notis” as a form of “notus” (known) rather than of “nota” (mark). fancies mix “miscet imagines” (joins the images). Fancies are the productions of the “fancy,” an early modern term for the faculty of the “imagination.” 106. in feeling . . . same in feeling bodies “in corporibus sentiendis” (in perceiving corporeal things). Elizabeth evidently confused “sentiendis” with “sentientibus.” body’s passion “passio corporis” (here, in the sense of ‘the passivity of the body’). fancies “formas” (forms). in sensible bodies Again, “in corporibus . . . sentiendis” (in perceiving

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makes, hoW Much more that which is those thinges which are Most Voyde of bodyes affections in discerning, follow not outwardly they cast aforehand them, But doth performe the action of the Mynde, by this reson, Many KnoWledges haue giuen place to diuers and differing substances. for only sense deprived of all other knoWledge, Wontes to11 lyving thinges that haue , No Motion, As the sea shells and such other as by cleaving to Rockes, be Nourished. but Imagination seems only An affection in creatures that Moue and haue desire to shon or seek. But Mans reson is only proper to himself, as Vnderstanding to god, so as that KnoWledge exceedes all other that by her oWn Nature Not only her oWn, but KnoWeth the rest of Knowledges subiect to her. but What if sense be taken from reson, and Imagination Lost seing that which is to be Vewed shall We saye ther is no gratente thing Vniuersall and that that generally Reson hath to look Vnto? for that that as sensible and Imaginary can Not be Vniuersall, Wh for eyther Must we se the Resons true is the the Resons iudgement, and nothing is true of sense sense to be Nothing Worth, or because as because it KnoWes that that Many thinges by the be subiect to sense, that is subiecte to hit and Imagination, therfore Vayne shold the conceyte of Reson be be Vayne, Which because it is sensible and singuler, considers yet An Vniuersalitie Aboue it. besydes, yf Reson gaynesaying, aunswers, that she sees What is sensible, What Imaginary in the reson of all that comprehendes, and yet she can Not aspire to the Knoledge of that only, for that her science can Not exceede the bodyes shape. but We Must beleeue of the Knoledge of all thinges With a steddyer and perfeter Judgement. In this controuersy corporeal things). not . . . same “non passione insignitur, sed ex sua vi . . . iudicat passionem” (is not marked by passivity but of its own power judges that passivity). Elizabeth’s renderings do not convey the technical epistemological senses of Boethius’s Latin phrases. 11. Wontes to The oddity of the locution prompted Windebank or Elizabeth to underline it for revision, but none occurs. 107. of body’s . . . them of . . . affections of bodily states as passively affected by external objects; “corporum affectionibus.” not . . . them “non obiecta extrinsecus sequuntur” (do not follow things presented from without). 108. given place to “cessere” could mean ‘they have given place to, yielded to’ but in this context means ‘have accrued to.’ 109. wonts to “cessit” (accrues to, belongs to). “Wonts to” here probably means ‘is habitual to,’ but the locution is unidiomatic and, as our original-spelling text reveals, was underlined for revision. 110. the rest . . . her “ceterarum . . . . notitiarum subiecta” (the subject matters of other knowledges).

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those things which are most void of body’s affections, in discerning, follow not, outwardly they cast afore them,107 but doth perform the action of the mind? By this reason, many knowledges have given place to108 divers and differing substances. For only sense, deprived of all other knowledge, wonts to109 living things that have no motion: as the seashells and such other as, by cleaving to rocks, be nourished. But imagination seems only an affection in creatures that move, and have desire to shun or seek. But man’s reason is only proper to himself, as understanding to God: so as that knowledge exceeds all other, that, by her own nature, not only her own, but knoweth the rest of knowledges subject to her.110 “But what if sense be taken from reason, and imagination lost: shall we say111 there is no thing universal that generally reason hath to look unto? For that that [i]s112 sensible and imaginary cannot be universal, for either true is the reason’s judgment, and sense to be nothing worth; or because it knows that many things be subject to sense and imagination, therefore, vain should the conceit of reason be, which, because it is sensible and singular, considers yet an universality above it.113 Besides, if reason, gainsaying, answers that she sees what is sensible, what imaginary, in the reason of all that comprehends, yet she cannot aspire to the knowledge of that only, for that her science cannot exceed the bodies’ shape,114 but we must believe of the knowledge of all things with a steadier and perfecter judgment. In this controversy, therefore, we that have both power of

111. if . . . say “si ratiocinationi sensus imaginatioque refragentur . . . dicentes” (if sense and imagination oppose reasoning . . . saying). Boethius presents the argument that follows as if it were spoken by sense and imagination. 112. [i]s “est.” Windebank misheard or miswrote “as” for the required reading “is.” 113. because . . . it “quod sensibile sit ac singulare quasi quiddam universale consideret” (it thinks of what is sensible and singular as if it were some sort of universal). 114. that she . . . shape “se quidem et quod sensibile et quod imaginabile sit in universitatis ratione conspicere, illa vero ad universitatis cognitionem adspirare non posse, quoniam eorum notio corporales figuras non possit excedere” (that she does indeed see the object of sense and the object of imagination under the aspect of their universality, but that they—sense and imagination—cannot aspire to the knowledge of universality since their knowledge cannot go beyond corporeal shapes). Elizabeth’s “yet” clause obscures reason’s attempt to distinguish itself from sense and imagination by construing neuter plural “illa” (i.e., sense and imagination) as a feminine singular “illa” (she), which could refer to sense, imagination, or reason itself, although the last possibility would destroy the point.

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therfor, We that haue both poWre of resoning Imagining and feeling, shall not We More alloW the cause of reson? It is eving euin lyke as Mans Reson doth not think how it may looke Vpon godes Vnderstanding of outWard thinges, Without it self doo KnoW it. for thus you dispute, Yf Yf such thinges as seeme not to haue certen and Necessary sequels, such sequel the same can Neuer be foreKnoWen surely to hap, but therfore ther is no such prescience of such thinges, Which if We beleeue to be, then should ther Nothing ^12 hap of Necessitie. Yf therfore therfore As We be partakers of reson, yf so We had the iudgement of godes Will, As We iudge that imagination and sense ought to giue place to Reson, so shold We deeme it Most Just that humanyne reson should submit hit self to godes Mynde. Let Vs therfore lyft Vp our selves into the Top of his Vnderstanding. for there reson shall beholde that in hit self it can Not see, for there that is, hoW those thinges that haue Not certen and sure endes, Yet shall she see them assured, and a determynd aforeKnoledge. And that it is Not opinion, but An included purenes of the hyest Knoledge that is shut in No lymites. 5. M[yter]. In hoW many shapes pas beastes on gronde on ground Of Wiche some of bodies Long the dust turnes vp some turnes Withe fors of brest contined trace doth traiL Som Whos sWiftnis Wings the Windz do part

12. ^ Windebank’s caret mark has no accompanying insertion. See n116 below. 115. doth not . . . it “divinam intellegentiam futura, nisi ut ipsa cognoscit, non putat intueri” (thinks that the divine intelligence does not regard future things except in the same manner as she [human reason] knows them). outward things “futura” (future things). Probably Windebank’s mishearing of “toward things.” “Toward” was formerly a synonym of ‘future.’ 116. nothing . . . necessity Windebank placed a caret mark between “nothing” and “hap” in the manuscript. A “not” is required to render the sense of the Latin, “nihil erit quod non ex necessitate proveniat” (there will be nothing that does not happen out of necessity). 117. of . . . will “divinae . . . mentis” (of the divine mind). Elizabeth again gives Boethius’s God a voluntarist cast. She translates “divinae mentis” more accurately at the end of this sentence.

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reasoning, imagining, and feeling, shall not we more allow the cause of reason? It is even like, as man’s reason doth not think how it may look upon God’s understanding of outward things, without itself do know it.115 For thus you dispute: if such things as seem not to have certain and necessary sequels, the same can never be foreknown surely to hap. Therefore, there is no prescience of such things, which, if we believe to be, then should there nothing hap of necessity.116 If, therefore, as we be partakers of reason, so we had the judgment of God’s will,117 as we judge that imagination and sense ought to give place to reason, so should we deem it most just that human reason should submit itself to God’s mind. Let us, therefore, lift up ourselves into the top of His understanding:118 for there reason shall behold that, in itself, it cannot see: that is, how those things that have not certain and sure ends, yet shall He see them assured and a determined aforeknowledge.119 And that is not opinion, but an included pureness of the highest knowledge, that is shut in no limits.”120

Meter 5 In how many shapes, pass beasts on ground: Of which, of bodies long, dust some turns, With force of breast continued trace doth trail; Some whose swiftness’ wings121 the winds do part,

118. understanding Elizabeth omits the qualifier “si possumus” (if we can), which follows at this point. 119. yet . . . aforeknowledge Elizabeth garbles the sense of “certa tamen videat ac definita praenotio” (a certain and definite foreknowledge nevertheless may see) by taking God (“He”) as the subject of “videat” and construing “certa” as a neuter plural object, “them assured.” It is unclear whether she treats the grammatical subject, “definita praenotio,” as another object (“a determined aforeknowledge”) or whether her phrase “and a determined aforeknowlege” is elliptical for “and this is a . . . foreknowledge.” 120. but . . . limits “sed summae potius scientiae nullis terminis inclusa simplicitas” (but rather the simplicity, shut in by no bounds, of the highest knowledge). included enclosed. 121. swiftness’ wings Elizabeth exchanges the grammatical roles of the two nouns in “alarum levitas vaga” (shifting lightness of wings). According to the OED, “swiftness” had a specific early modern sense of ‘rapid movement,’ which is apt here.

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And strait the bredhth of Largist skie doeth pas [5] Other Some on ground ther steps to print reiois Or griny fildz to pase or Woodz to haunt Whos formes thogh thou see to difar far Yet doWne face piees thers ther dullid sencis pece peis13 Mankind alone his hed VpWard bendz [10] At eas doth stand With body CLad and erthe Lookes on This figure Warns but for the CLays deceat Thou that that thou With liftid Looke that heauen aspiring upWard upcast thy he[d]14 On hy thy mynd shuldst raise Lest oVerwaid [15] Thy body made aaloft thy mynd shuld Lowar Sit / 6. Pr[ose] For that therfore, as a litle afore I shoWed all that is KnoWen, whos Not of her oWn Nature but of some are comprehended her oWn na but of the Nature of such thinges as are comprehended is KnoWen, Let Vs Look Now as Much hit as becoms us, What is the state of the diuine substance that We May the better KnoW, What is the Knoledge therof. It is the common Judgement of all that lyve by Resons Rule that god is euerLasting. Let Vs consider What is eternitie. for this shall show Vs both godes Nature, and his knoledge. Eternitie is therfore an Vnending, Wholle and perfet possession of lyfe, Which More cleerly appeers by the comparison of temporall thinges. for What so lives in tyme, that present from past, goos on to the folloWing, And Nothing is ther appoynted in tyme, that altogither can comprehend the Whole

13. peis This revision, which runs into the page edge of fol 80r, may be in Windebank’s italic. 14. he[d] A hole at the edge of fol. 80v has obliterated the word ending. We explain our restoration in n125 below. 122. Yet . . . peize “Prona tamen facies hebetes valet ingravare sensus” (Yet their downturned face weighs down their dulled senses). peize weigh down. 123. with . . . clad Elizabeth’s rendering was prompted by a misprint—“tecto stat corpore” (stands with clad / covered body) instead of “recto stat corpore” (stands with upright body)—in Pulmann’s 1562 edition, corrected in 1580. 124. (but . . . deceit) “nisi terrenus male desipis” (unless, being earthly, you are badly without understanding).

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And strait the breadth of largest sky doth pass; 5 Some on ground their steps to print rejoice, Or greeny fields to pass, or woods to haunt: Whose forms, though thou see differ far, Yet down-face theirs, their dullèd senses peize.122 Mankind alone his head upward bends, 10 At ease doth stand, with body clad,123 and earth looks on. This figure warns (but for the clay’s deceit)124 That thou, with lifted look, that, heaven aspiring, upward upcast thy he[ad],125 On high thy mind shouldst raise; lest, overweighed, 15 Thy body made aloft, thy mind should lower sit.126

Prose 6 “For that, therefore, as a little afore I showed, all that is known, not of her own, but of the nature of such things as are comprehended127 is known, let us look now, as much it becomes us, what is the state of the divine substance—that we may the better know, what is the knowledge thereof.128 It is the common judgment of all that live by reason’s rule, that God is everlasting. Let us consider what is eternity. For this shall show us both God’s nature and His knowledge. Eternity is, therefore, an unending, whole, and perfect possession of life: which more clearly appears by the comparison of temporal things. For, whatso lives in time, that, present from past, goes on to the following;129 and nothing is there appointed in time that altogether can comprehend the whole compass of his life. For if he knows not

125. he[ad] A hole at the edge of fol. 80v has obliterated the word ending. Our restoration of the missing letters is based on Boethius’s reading, “frontem” (brow). 126. sit “sidat” (should sink, should sit). 127. not . . . comprehended “non ex sua sed ex comprehendentium natura” (not according to its—i.e., the known thing’s—own nature but according to the nature of those comprehending it). Elizabeth confuses the active present participle “conprehendentium” with the passive past participle “comprehensorum.” 128. knowledge thereof Elizabeth’s construction is a subjective, not an objective genitive: God’s knowledge, not knowledge about God. The OED notes this usage as frequent in sixteenth-century Biblical translation. 129. the following what follows (in time); “futura” (the future).

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compasse of his lyfe. for if he KnoWs Not the Morrow and the yestarday hath Lost, and in this present lyfe none otherwise ye lyve than in that changing and transytory moment, Then that that suffers change of tyme, altho it Were as Aristotle thinkes of the Wourld, that Neuer hit began, nor euer shall end, and that the lyf therof shold stretch to the endlesnes of tyme, yet could yt Not be such that rightly euerLasting may be Judged. for albeit he could at once comprehend at once Compren Wel the Whole compasse of our lyfe, yet that that yet shall may and hath not15 yet ch chaunced, can he neuer attayne. Then it folloWs, that Whatsoeuer comprehendes and Possesses the Wholle fulness of endles lyfe, to whom nether Any thing comming is absent, nor any thing past is gon, rightly eternall is shoWed; and Must Needes be that present with present with himself, Wholly his oWn may euer stand, and hath in his presence the infinitenes of the pressan WaVering WaVering tyme. Wherfoore they haue Not rightly don, Who When they hard that Plato thought this World Neuer to haue had begynning nor euer to receaue Godes end, suppose that by this Meane the World should be Made eternall, lyke him that is eternall: for it is An other thing that PLato Meanes to attribute to the World, Meaning of a lyfe that Might guide him to be eternall, An other thing it is that our Wholle lyfe present present present as this present World be hable to should comprehend such as is everLasting the presence of the Vnending lyfe, Which it is playne is the only property of godes mynde Which is manifest to be the property of godes knowleg mynde For he himself evin by the length of tyme ought to be iudged auncienter not for of the quantytie of tyme but than that he made, rather they so do be by the property of simple Natures but rather for the property of his owne pure nature and nature For the infinite

15. yet . . . not Successive underlinings suggest awareness of needed revision. 130. if . . . Aristotle if There is no counterpart for “if ” in Boethius, whose sentence is declarative, not conditional. ye The change of pronouns from third to second person follows the Latin. change “conditionem” (the condition). Aristotle In Metaphysics 12.7.1072a 21–23; Physics 8.6.259b32; and On the Heavens (De caelo) 2.1.283b26. 131. For . . . attain “non enim totum simul infinitae licet vitae spatium comprehendit atque complectitur, sed futura nondum, transacta iam non habet” (for although it be infinite, it does not grasp and embrace simultaneously the whole extent of its life, but rather it does not yet have the future, and it has the past no longer). Missing Boethius’s initial “non,” Elizabeth in her first clause imagines a possibility that he denies. yet . . . chanced yet that which shall happen and that which has not yet happened. This passage, which evidently gave Elizabeth difficulty, has phrases underlined for revision; see n15 above.

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the morrow, and the yesterday hath lost; and in this present life none otherwise ye live than in that changing and transitory moment: then that that suffers change of time—although it were, as Aristotle130 thinks of the world, that never it began nor ever shall end, and that the life thereof should stretch to the endlessness of time—yet could it not be such that, rightly, everlasting may be judged. For albeit he could at once comprehend well the whole compass of our life, yet that, that shall and hath not yet chanced, can he never attain.131 Then it follows, that whatsoever comprehends and possesses the whole fullness of endless life, to whom neither anything coming is absent, nor anything past is gone, rightly eternal is showed. And must needs be that, present with Himself, wholly His own may ever stand, and hath in His presence the infiniteness of the wavering132 time. “Wherefore they have not rightly done, who, when they heard that Plato thought133 this world never to have had beginning, nor ever to receive end, suppose that by this mean the world should be made eternal, like Him that is eternal. For it is another thing that Plato means to attribute to the world—meaning, of a life that might guide him to be eternal.134 Another thing it is, that our whole life present, should comprehend the presence of the unending life,135 which is manifest to be the property of God’s mind. For He Himself ought to be judged ancienter, not for quantity of time, than that He made, but rather for the property of His own pure nature. For the infinite

132. wavering wandering, inconstant; “mobilis” (moving, shifting, inconstant). 133. Plato thought What Plato said regarding the eternity of the world in Timaeus 28B became a matter of controversy as early as Aristotle’s comments in On the Heavens 279B33 and has remained a matter of controversy to the present day. 134. of a life . . . eternal i.e., the world’s “lifespan” might lead it to be eternal. him i.e., the world. Boethius reads “per interminabilem duci vitam” (to be drawn out through a life without end). 135. our . . . unending life “interminabilis vitae totam pariter complexum esse praesentiam” (to have grasped simultaneously the whole presentness of life without end). our . . . present Elizabeth’s addition in a heavily reworked passage. Boethius’s implicit subject remains the world, which cannot grasp eternity in the way God can, while Elizabeth shifts to human beings.

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Motion of temporall thinges doth but counterfet the present state of the Vntourning, And When it can can Not nether picture it nor equall it, abydes Vnremoued by his constancy, and by the Wekenes of that is present, doth Weaken it self into the infinite quantity of that shall be and Was. And When he can Not possess the Whole fulnes of his oWn lyfe in that parte that he Neuer leavith to be, he seems to counterfet that that he can Nether fulfyll Nor expresse, bynding himself to any kinde of representation of this that is small slyding and Momentary, Which because hit bearith som ymage of the euerLasting presence, to Whom soueuer it haps, this good it does, that he seems so to be. but because ther he hit can Not Last, hath taken an endles Journey of tyme, And so hit hapes he Makes, that by going he contynues lyfe, Whose fulnes he can Not comprehend in byding: but he So therfore yf We Wold gyve right Names to matter, folloWing Platos Rule We should name god Eternall, and the World perpetuall. because therfore all Judgement gesseth comprehendith according to his the Nature of such thinges to Which he is subiecte, to god therfore all is eternall, and a lyke is euer his state. his science ouerPassing all Motion of tyme, remaynith in the Purenes in the Pureness of his owne presence comprehending the infinite space of that is Past and shall,16 And all considerith in his oWn pure Knoledge as don NoW they Were. Wherfore if thou Woldest Way his foreknoledge by Which he all Vnderstandith, thou Woltst s Judge that he hath Not a foreknoWledge of thinges alo to com alone, but a sciesce rightlyer a science of Neuer Worn contynuance. Wherfore we Must Not call it foresight, But Prouisiengedence, Which

16. and shall The underlining marks the incomplete phrase as needing revision. 136. it, abides . . . itself it, abides . . . constancy Probably to be construed as a reference to divine immobility, ‘it, [which] abides steadfast because of His constancy.’ Like many sixteenth-century editions, Pulmann’s reads “ex immobilitate deficit immotum”; this awkward pleonastic formulation can be construed ‘it [the movement of temporal things] departs from immobility, deserts the immobile [God].’ Elizabeth perhaps read “deficit” as “non deficit” and accordingly mistook the unmoving God for the subject, rather than moving things. Modern editions, like some sixteenth-century editions, read “ex immobilitate deficit in motum” (it withdraws from immobility into motion). by . . . itself “ex simplicitate praesentiae decrescit” (it shrinks from the simplicity of the present). 137. to counterfeit . . . momentary to counterfeit imitate, copy, follow the example of; “aemulari” (to emulate). to any . . . momentary “ad qualemcumque praesentiam huius exigui volucrisque momenti” (to the present, such as it is, of this brief and fleeting moment). representation Influenced by the preceding discussion of imitating, Elizabeth evidently confuses “praesentiam” with “repraesentationem.” sliding transitory.

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motion of temporal things doth but counterfeit the present state of the unturning. And when it cannot neither picture it nor equal it, abides unremoved by His constancy; and by the weakness of that is present, doth weaken itself 136 into the infinite quantity of that shall be and was. And when he cannot possess the whole fullness of his own life, in that part that he never leaveth to be, he seems to counterfeit that that he can neither fulfill nor express, binding himself to any kind of representation of this that is small, sliding, and momentary.137 Which, because it beareth some image of the everlasting presence, to whomsoever it haps, this good it does, that he seems so to be.138 But because it cannot last, hath taken an endless journey of time; and so he makes that, by going, he continues life, whose fullness he cannot comprehend in biding. So, therefore, if we would give right names to matter,139 following Plato’s rule we should name God ‘eternal’ and the world ‘perpetual.’ “Because, therefore, all judgment comprehendeth according to the nature of such things to which he is subject,140 to God, therefore, all is eternal, and alike is ever His state. His science, overpassing all motion of time, remaineth in the pureness of His own presence, comprehending the infinite space of that is past, and shall [be];141 and all considereth in His own pure knowledge, as done now they were. Wherefore, if thou wouldst weigh His foreknowledge by which He all understandeth, thou wouldst judge that He hath not a foreknowledge of things to come alone, but rightlier a science of never-worn continuance.142 Wherefore we must not call it ‘foresight,’ but ‘providence,’143 which, being set over all things, yea, in the meanest,

138. to whomsoever . . . be “quibuscumque contigerit id praestat ut esse videantur” (to whatsoever things it [this present] touches, it grants that they should seem to be [like God’s everlasting present]). whomsoever whatsoever. he it. 139. matter the substance of discourse as distinct from the words; “rebus.” “Res” in classical and Renaissance rhetoric often refers to the ‘matter’ as opposed to the “verba” (words). 140. comprehendeth . . . subject “secundum sui naturam quae sibi subiecta sunt comprehendit” (comprehends those things subject to it according to its own nature). he judgment. 141. [be] In the manuscript, Windebank’s incomplete phrase “and shall” is underlined for correction. We insert the emendation that the sense requires. 142. of . . . continuance “numquam deficientis instantiae” (of a never-passing instant). worn past, spent (said of time). continuance period of time, permanence. 143. ‘foresight’. . . ‘providence’ “praevidentia” (foresight) . . . “providentia.”

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Being set ouer all thinges, Yea in the Meanest, Vews them all as out of the Very top and spring of all. Why dost thou ask therfore that why Necessaryly thinges must Needes be that by godes light be ouerLookt? When Not men not men themselves hauing VeWd many thinges that are Without necessity they doo Not, make all do see of necessity thinges they see thinges not necessaryly alone necessary because they see them For does thy Looking on, Make Any Necessity for such thinges to be, as thou dost beholde? No. And if We durst compare With togither diuine and humayne presence Presence, euin as you see certain thinges in this tyme at this instant tyme, so he eternally all beholdes. Wherfore this diuine foreknoledge changith not the Naturall property of thinges, but Looks of such thinges as are present, that they shall hap in tyme to men necessary in tyme Nether does he confound the Judgementes of causes, But only With the Vew of his mynde, knowith What needes Must be, and What shall Not hap. As you Whan you see a Man Walke Vpon the ground, and does behold the sonne aryse in skye, tho at once both ye Vewe, yet you see that the one is Volontary, and the other you Judge necessary Wherfore17 So therfore godes Looke beholding ech thing, doth not perturbe their propertyes, tho present to himself, they be all, yet by tymes distance they are to com. So hit concludes, that this is Not opinion, but rather a KnoWledge Knowledge18 sticking to truthe, When he KnoWes Any thing that shall be, then he is sure that of Necessitie it Must be. Heere yf you say that god seith that that shall happe, it can not be then but it Must hap, and that that can not chose but to chaunce, that Must fall out of Necessitie, And so Wold you bynde me to Needes name, I must confesse that it is A Mater of soundest troth, But such one as No Man can attayne to, but must must haue an Insight of diuinity / Therfore I Will answere, that one thing if it be referd to godes Knoledge, is of Necessyty, yf it be Wayde in his oWne nature, is free and Absolute.

17. Wherfore As the insertion immediately following indicates, this conjunction has been deleted. 18. KnoWledge Knowledge Windebank’s repetition across fol. 82r–v. 144. be overlooked are surveyed from above; “lustrentur” (are surveyed). 145. present Elizabeth does not translate “apud se” (to Him), which immediately follows in the text. 146. what . . . hap Elizabeth omits the crucial adverb in Pulmann’s edition: “non necessario [modern editions: ‘necessarie’] ventura” (things not necessarily coming to be).

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views them all as out of the very top and spring of all. Why dost thou ask, therefore, why necessarily things must needs be, that by God’s light be overlooked,144 when not men themselves make all things they see, things necessary, because they see them? For, does thy lookingon make any necessity for such things to be, as thou dost behold?” “No.” “And if we durst compare together divine and human presence, even as you see certain things at this instant, so He eternally all beholds. Wherefore this divine foreknowledge changeth not the natural property of things, but looks of such things as are present,145 that they shall hap in time. Neither does He confound the judgments of causes; but only, with the view of His mind, knoweth what needs must be, and what shall not hap.146 As you, when you see a man walk upon the ground, and does behold the sun arise in sky—though at once both ye view, yet you see that the one is voluntary, and the other you judge necessary. So, therefore, God’s look beholding each thing, doth not perturb their properties, though present to Himself they be all, yet, by time’s distance, they are to come. So it concludes, that this is not opinion, but rather a knowledge sticking to truth: when He knows anything that shall be, then He is sure that, of necessity, it must be.147 “Here, if you say that God seeth that that shall hap, it cannot be, then, but it must hap; and that that cannot choose but to chance, that must fall out of necessity; and so would ye bind me to need’s name—I must confess that it is a matter of soundest truth, but such one as no man can attain to, but must have an insight of divinity.148 Therefore, I will answer: that one thing,149 if it be referred to God’s knowledge, is of necessity; if it be weighed in his own nature, is free and absolute.

147. then . . . be “quod idem exsistendi necessitate carere non nesciat” (this is something that, He is not ignorant, lacks the necessity of happening). Elizabeth makes the opposite of Boethius’s point. 148. that God . . . divinity that God . . . must hap “quod eventurum deus videt id non evenire non posse” (that what God sees is going to occur, cannot not occur). but must . . . divinity unless he have knowledge of theology; “nisi divini speculator” (except for one who contemplates the divine). but unless; “nisi.” insight knowledge of a particular subject. 149. that . . . thing “idem futurum” (the same future thing).

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therfore there are ij Necessities, the one playne as that it Must needes be that Men be Mortalll, the other is conditionall, as if thou Knoest a Man doth Walke, it Must Needes folloW that he goes. For it can be No otherwise but that that a Man Knowith is playne, but this, yYf, drawes Not of consequence the other that is playne and simple. for such A Necessity our oWn proper nature Makes Not, but the Joyning of that, Yf, for No necessitie compels a Man to go, but Willingly he Walkes, tho When he steps he must go. So yf prouidence sees Any thing present, that Must Needes be, tho it haue No Necessyty of Nature so to be, And god as present beholdith all such thinges as folloWing shall happ to proceede of free Will, All these thinges referd to the diuine sight be Necessary for the state of godes Knoledge, but considerd by themselves, they differ Nothing from the absolute liberty of Nature her self. All thinges therfore doutles be made, Which god himself foreKnowes shall be, But som of these proceedes of free Will, which tho they proceede of theyr owne, by being they hap Yet they leue lose Not their oWne Nature. for afore they hapt, they Might haue fortuned Not to hap. What not to make it y and they be Not necessary yf they be not compeled by necessary When they hap necessarily by the state of godes science? this is the difference, that euin as these thinges that I propounded afore, the son rysing and the Man going, Which Whyle they are a doing, can Not but be don, Yet the one afore it hapt, Was of Necessity, the other Not so, so those things that present god beholdes, are in lyke sord sorte, but of them som haps by causes Necessity, the other by the poWre of the doar. Wherfore We haue Not saide amisse, that som be necessary in respect of godes knoledge, other if they be by themselves considered, be Vnlosed from necessityes Knot: For euin as all that is PLayne to our senses, yf ye refer it to Reson, it is Vniuersall, if to hit self that is don, it is singuler. But thou Woldst saye, Yf in my poWre it be set, to change my purpose, I will Make Voyde

150. it can . . . plain it is evident that what a man knows cannot be otherwise; “quod enim quisque novit, id esse aliter ac notum est nequit” (whatever anyone knows cannot be otherwise than as it is known). Elizabeth evidently construed “notum est” (is known) as ‘is familiar, well known,’ hence “is plain.” 151. our . . . nature “propria . . . natura”—here, a thing’s own proper nature. 152. differ . . . herself “ab absoluta naturae suae libertate non desinunt” (they do not lose the absolute freedom of their nature).

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Therefore, there are two necessities: the one, plain, as that it must needs be that men be mortal; the other is conditional, as, if thou knowest a man doth walk, it must needs follow that he goes. For it can be no otherwise, but that that a man knoweth, is plain.150 But this ‘if ’ draws not, of consequence, the other, that is plain and simple. For such a necessity our own proper nature151 makes not, but the joining of that ‘if ’; for no necessity compels a man to go, but willingly he walks, though when he steps he must go. So, if providence sees anything present, that must needs be, though it have no necessity of nature so to be. And God, as present, beholdeth all such things as, following, shall hap to proceed of free will. All these things, referred to the divine sight, be necessary for the state of God’s knowledge, but considered by themselves, they differ nothing from the absolute liberty of Nature herself.152 All things, therefore, doubtless be made,153 which God Himself foreknows shall be; but some of these proceeds of free will, which, though by being they hap, yet they lose not their own nature: for, afore they happed, they might have fortuned not to hap. What if they be not necessary, when they hap necessarily by the state of God’s science?154 This is the difference, that, even as these things that I propounded afore, the sun rising, and the man going, which, while they are a-doing, cannot but be done; yet the one, afore it happed, was of necessity, the other not so. So those things that, present, God beholds, are in like sort; but of them, some haps by causes’ necessity, the other, by the power of the doer. Wherefore we have not said amiss, that some be necessary in respect of God’s knowledge, other if they be by themselves considered, be unloosed from necessity’s knot: for even as all that is plain to our senses, if ye refer it to reason, it is universal; if to itself that is done,155 it is singular. “But, thou wouldst say, if in my power it be set, to change my purpose, I will make void providence, when perchance I shall change 153. be made Pulmann’s edition reads “fiunt,” which can mean ‘are made’ but here, in reference to events, means ‘happen.’ Elizabeth, however, may again be thinking of God as ‘Maker’ of the things that were “facta” (made): Romans 1:20 (Vulgate). 154. when . . . science? “cum propter divinae scientiae condicionem modis omnibus necessitatis instar eveniet?” (since, on account of the condition of the divine knowledge, it will turn out in all ways like necessity?). 155. if ye . . . done refer relate; “referas.” if to . . . done if it is related to itself. Pulmann’s edition reads “si ad se ipsum respicias” (if you consider the thing itself).

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prouidence, when perchance I shall change that she foreKnew. I Will answer the, I graunt that thou mayst change thy purpose, but because19 the euer present troth of prouidence beholdith that eyther thou may doo, or Whither may b[e] tho[u do]st, [and] Whithersoever thou turnest the, [so] shalt thou neuer shun his diuine foreKnoledge, as thou canst Not fly the sight of his present eye, tho thou be turned by thy free Will to sondry actions: What? Woldst thou say, shall Diuine scyence be changed by my disposition, that Whan I Will this or that she shall seeme to chaunge that the turns of her Knoledge? O no, for godes Looke forerunnith all that she made, is shall be and Wryes to the presence of his oWn Knoledge and back callith, Not alterith as thou supposest the Varyeties of his Knoledge, NoW this NoW that. but in A Moment steddy he preventes and comprehendes th thy sondry ch changes, which Presence that all comprehendes and sees he hath not got of the hop hap of such thinges as shall chance, but is proceeded out of his purenes. Wheron is concluded that you hast told afore, how Vnwourthy it Were, that the cause of godes science shold make compasse performe haps. for the force of his Knoledge by a by a present Vnderstanding, comprehendith all, Appoyntes to all A meane, and oWes Nothing to the comming, Which being true, ther Remaynes a sure liberty of Will to Mortall folkes. For Neyther Lawes be Wicked, that do propounde rewarde and payne yf our Wills Were freed from all Necessity. There Lastith also a Vewar of Vs all the foreKnoWing god, whose euer prent present Eternity of his sight agreith With the folloWing property of our Actions. And so dispensith to good reward, to yll their desartes. Neyther in Vayne doo We put trust in god, nether of small price our prayeres, Which being truly Made

19. but because These underlined words are unrevised. 156. b[e] tho[u do]st, [and] . . . [so] The lacunae in the MS, caused by three holes in fol. 83r–v, can be conjecturally restored by reference to the source. Boethius reads “et an facias quove convertas . . . , divinam te praescientiam non posse vitare” (and whether you will do so, and in what direction you will change, you cannot avoid the divine foreknowledge). 157. wries . . . prevents wries causes to turn back; “retorquet” (turns back). prevents anticipates; “praevenit.”

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that she foreknew. I will answer thee: I grant that thou mayst change thy purpose, but because the ever-present truth of providence beholdeth that, either thou may do, or whether may b[e] tho[u do]st, [and] whithersoever thou turnest thee, [so]156 shalt thou never shun His divine foreknowledge, as thou canst not fly the sight of His present eye, though thou be turned, by thy free will, to sundry actions. What! wouldst thou say, Shall divine science be changed by my disposition, that when I will this or that, she shall seem to change the turns of her knowledge? O no; for God’s look forerunneth all that shall be, and wries to the presence of His own knowledge, and back calleth, not altereth, as thou supposest, the varieties of His knowledge, now this, now that, but in a moment, steady, He prevents157 and comprehends thy sundry changes. Which presence, that all comprehends and sees, He hath not got of the hap of such things as shall chance, but is proceeded out of His pureness. Whereon is concluded that you hast told afore, how unworthy it were, that the cause of God’s science should perform haps.158 For the force of His knowledge, by a present understanding, comprehendeth all, appoints to all a mean, and owes nothing to the coming.159 Which, being true, there remains a sure liberty of will to mortal folks. For neither laws be wicked, that do propound reward and pain, if our wills were freed160 from all necessity. There lasteth also a Viewer of us all, the foreknowing God, whose ever-present eternity of sight agreeth with the following property161 of our actions, and so dispenseth to good, reward; to ill, their deserts. Neither in vain do we put trust in God, neither of small price our prayers,162 which, being truly made, can

158. the cause . . . haps “scientiae dei causam futura nostra praestare dicantur” (our future actions should be said to provide the cause of the knowledge of God). Elizabeth inverts the subject and object of the action. perform produce. 159. to . . . coming to the future; “posterioribus” (to later events). 160. if . . . freed “solutis . . . voluntatibus” (for wills freed). 161. with . . . property “futura qualitate” (with the future quality). 162. small . . . prayers neither are our prayers ineffectual; “Nec frustra sunt . . . preces.”

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can can neuer fall in Vayne. Avoyde Vice therfore, Prise Vertue, your Mynde lift Vp to true hopes, and settle your humble prayers in hyest place. [Unto you is ordained, of godliness,] a greate necessitie, needz a gr[eat]necessitie, if to god if you Wyl Vse no guyle to make you good yf you will not your self beguyle When you beholde yourself behelde you doo plead afore the eyes of him that that iudge that all discernes. [Epigraph in Windebank’s hand:] Fift Booke.21 21. Fift Booke Windebank’s terminal epigraph is positioned vertically in the right lower corner of fol. 83v. 163. [Unto . . . godliness] . . . gr[eat] We conjecturally supply the lacunae on fol. 83v with reference to the source. Boethius reads “Magna vobis est . . . necessitas indicta probi-

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never fall in vain. Avoid vice, therefore; prize virtue; your minds lift up to true hopes; and settle your humble prayers in highest place. [Unto you is ordained, of godliness,] a gr[eat]163 necessity, if you will not yourself beguile, when you do plead afore the eyes of that Judge that all discerns.” Fifth Book.

tatis.” In earlier passages, partly in response to the context, Elizabeth variously translates “probitas” as “virtue,” “godliness,” “piety,” “sincerity,” and “honesty.” This final context of standing before God as Judge makes “godliness” the most felicitous choice, one which additionally alliterates with “great” and “beguile.” See n58 to book 4.

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queen elizabeth’s t r a n s l at i o n o f d e s i d e r i u s e r a s m u s ’ s l at i n v e r s i o n o f p lu ta r c h ’ s d e c u r i o s i tat e

1598

figure 4 Elizabeth’s translation of Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch’s De curiositate (November 1598), lines 278–99. Reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, UK.

Plutarch’s essay “Περὶ πολυπραγμοσύνης,” from his Moralia (515B– 23B), probes the vice of invasive curiosity about other people’s confidential matters, especially their faults and misfortunes. Plutarch traces the manifestations of πολυπραγμοσύνη in prying, eavesdropping, gossiping, rumor-mongering, slandering, and other activities that tear at the social and political fabric. He contrasts such dangerous and malicious inquisitiveness about others with a Socratic ideal of moral self-examination. In Latin Plutarch’s title became “De curiositate,” and in English, “Of Curiosity.” Long-standing Christian values and early modern political anxieties combined to shape the Renaissance reception of Plutarch’s essay. St. Paul had anticipated him in condemning “busybodies,” the term in sixteenth-century English Bibles (2 Thessalonians 3:11; 1 Timothy 5:13; compare 1 Peter 4:15). In such manifestations as inquiring into sacred mysteries and state secrets, Renaissance humanists associated Plutarchan curiosity with overreaching the bounds of one’s proper station, whether as an offense against God or against a ruler. Scriptural passages warned against—or, in the case of Romans 11:20, were misread as warning against—curiosity regarding the divine disposition. Thomas Elyot’s entry on “curiosity” in a collection of sententiae (1534) cites Ecclesiasticus 3:22: “Seek not the things that are too high for thee, and search not into things above thy ability: but the things that God hath commanded thee, think on them always, and in many of his works be not

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curious.”1 Erasmus, whose Latin translation of Plutarch’s essay we will show to be the source for Elizabeth’s translation, advises in his Enchiridion (1st ed., 1504) that Christians should examine their own souls rather than train their curiosity on such arcane political concerns as the intentions of “the king of England.”2 Among his Adages, Erasmus explicates a maxim attributed to Socrates that rejects curiosity about things divine: “Quae supra nos, nihil ad nos” (Things above us are of no concern to us). In his English translation of selections from the Adages (1st ed., 1539), Richard Taverner adds a sharp admonition against common people’s prying into “princes’ matter.”3 In 1595 Elizabeth’s privy councillor Robert Cecil coined a term, “busiosity,” to condemn persons who exceeded their “calling” in exercising “busy” or prying curiosity regarding matters of state.4 In one of her earliest translations, her Latin version of Bernardino Ochino’s “Che cosa è Christo,” Elizabeth deplored “curiosi et superbi” (curious and proud men) who imagined things about Christ that lacked Scriptural warrant. Nearly forty years later, in a 1585 address to assembled clergy, she spoke of the need to restrain “busy” Puritan preachers who were “so curious in searching matters above their capacity” that they taught heresy and questioned her authority.5 Elizabeth leveled her criticisms here on two fronts simultaneously: theological curiosity and political interference. Yet this queen’s relation to curiosity was necessarily different from that of the ordinary Christian or the ordinary English subject. She depended upon “intelligencers,” spies and informers, to keep her apprised of foreign affairs and domestic threats.6 She also credited herself with special acumen in ferreting out covert information; as she wrote to James VI of Scotland in 1585, “we old foxes can find 1. Thomas Elyot, The Banquet of Sapience (London, 1534), sig. Ciiiiv. On Romans 11:20, see Carlo Ginsburg, “High and Low: The Theme of Forbidden Knowledge in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” Past and Present 73 (1976): 28–41. 2. Erasmus, Enchiridion Militis Christiani: An English Version, ed. Anne M. O’Donnell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981), 150. 3. Richard Taverner, Proverbs or Adages by Desiderius Erasmus (1569), with introduction by DeWitt T. Starnes (Gainesville, FL: Scholars’ Facsimiles and Reprints, 1956), sig. 19r–v. 4. P. M. Handover, The Second Cecil, 1563–1604 (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1959), 128. 5. CW, 178–79. 6. See Alan Haynes, Invisible Power: The Elizabethan Secret Services, 1570–1603 (Stroud, UK: Alan Sutton, 1992).

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shifts to . . . come by knowledge of greatest secret.”7 At court she was at the apex of a hierarchy that hummed with gossip, rumor, and an insatiable demand for “news.”8 The discovery and strategic use of secrets were generally thought essential to advancement, self-preservation, and victory over rivals. In 1595 one courtier blamed his failure to secure a coveted appointment on the “inquisition,” “suspicion,” and “slander” of enemies at court.9 Elizabeth made her versified English translation of Plutarch’s essay on curiosity during seven days in early November 1598, a time when she must have felt that this particular vice had spun out of control. Her court of the late 1590s was a volatile site where faction, intrigue, and rumor reached new extremes. These were largely the result of the rivalry between Elizabeth’s impetuous, militaristic favorite Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, on the one hand, and the Cecils, father and son, on the other: the cautious, shrewd, powerfully connected William Cecil, Lord Burleigh, and the crafty, efficient, energetic Robert Cecil.10 The Cecils and Essex had created competing spy networks for gathering intelligence on behalf of their queen—and themselves.11 After Elizabeth in 1596 appointed Robert Cecil her secretary of state, a position that Essex had sought, Cecil began intercepting a correspondence between Essex and his “intelligencer” Anthony Bacon.12 In September of the same year Essex complained that the Cecils had poisoned him in the queen’s regard, while in March 1597 his private secretary warned him of “cunning plotters.”13 In or near the same month, John Donne composed his Satire 4, a depiction of the atmosphere at court from the perspective of one on its fringe. Donne’s poetic speaker finds himself accosted by a Plutarchan busybody who seeks court “news” while claiming to be fully in the know: “He knows / When the queen frowned, or smiled, and he

7. CW, 262. 8. See Natalie Mears, Queenship and Political Discourse in the Elizabethan Realms (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 104–44, esp. 114. 9. Paul E. J. Hammer, The Polarisation of Elizabethan Politics: The Political Career of Robert Devereux, Second Earl of Essex, 1585–1597 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 359. 10. Ibid., 341-88. 11. Ibid., 152–98; Haynes, Invisible Power, 103–52. 12. Hammer, Polarisation, 369–70. 13. Thomas Birch, Memoirs of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth, 2 vols. (London, 1754), 2:141– 42, 189.

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knows what / A subtle statesman may gather of that” (lines 93, 98–100). Donne fears this busybody is a court spy who might inform against him.14 In the summer of 1597, Essex’s uncle William Knollys reported Elizabeth’s delight at the apparent reconciliation between Essex and Robert Cecil, but he also declared a continuing need to “observe” Cecil closely.15 In 1598 tensions again increased over the imperative of appointing a resolute, effective lord lieutenant of Ireland to cope with the mounting rebellion there. In July Essex clashed with the queen, opposing her prospective choices for the command. Essex’s advocacy of Sir George Carew, a member of the Cecil faction, was a transparent ploy to remove an “enemy” from court. In a verse epistle “To Sir Henry Wotton” (“Here’s no more news”) dated “20 July 1598” in some manuscripts, Donne, now employed at court, described it as a place full of “suspicious boldness” where men “have as many ears as all have tongues” (lines 16–17). That same month Essex’s mother warned her son of the “devilish practices” of “enemies.”16 After William Cecil died in August 1598, Robert Cecil opposed Essex’s suit for one of the offices his father had held, the lucrative mastership of the Court of Wards. While they were ostensibly working in harmony, the “friendship” of the two appeared “hollow” to observers at court.17 In this climate of mutual suspicion, the Irish rebel leader Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, brought the counties of Munster, Leinster, and Ulster into open revolt in October 1598. Now Essex pursued his own appointment as lord lieutenant while complaining to allies that his enemies were “absolute” (all-powerful) at court.18 Elizabeth brooded over the appointment until January 14, 1599, when she finally named Essex to the position. Earlier in this decision process, in November 1598, as she weighed her determinations for Ireland, she undertook her translation of Plutarch. The project afforded her a vantage point of historical and philosophical detachment from which she could reflect on the prying and backbiting that surrounded her. The text also offered a cor-

14. John Donne, Satires, Epigrams, and Verse Letters, ed. Wesley Milgate (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), 17 (spelling modernized). 15. Birch, Memoirs, 2:350–51. 16. Donne, Satires, Epigrams, and Verse Letters, 74; Birch, Memoirs, 2:388. 17. Handover, Second Cecil, 180–82. 18. Birch, Memoirs, 2:86.

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rosively negative analysis of the “curiosity” on which she as a monarch relied to protect herself and her realm. Elizabeth’s translation, however, exploits courtly curiosity even as it critiques it. Thomas Windebank, her clerk of the Signet, endorsed the manuscript of her initial draft as “Her Majesty’s translation of a treatise ‘Of Curiosity,’ written by Plutarch, and put into English meter.” Previously serving as the trusted scribe to whom she had dictated most of her translations of the prose dialogues in Boethius, Windebank now recorded a note implying that here, in working by herself, Elizabeth had worked from Plutarch’s Greek. He also notes that, on her instructions, he prepared a clean copy of her heavily revised initial draft. She evidently expected it to become known among her gossiping courtiers that she had been exercising her knowledge of Greek as well as her moral judgment in translating Plutarch’s essay. Whatever her intentions were in having the translation recopied, Windebank’s endorsement indicates that Elizabeth allowed the impression of having translated Plutarch from the Greek, which she had not done. Such a subterfuge was far from unique to Elizabeth. Translations of Greek texts by way of intermediaries, especially Latin or French, were common during the period.19 Sometimes translators acknowledged their intermediate sources: the title page of Thomas North’s English translation of Plutarch’s Lives (1579) states that it was made from Jacques Amyot’s French; Thomas Forrest’s translation of Isocrates (1580) notes that it renders Hieronymus Wolf ’s Latin. A number of other works that were translated by way of intermediate sources were, however, presented as translations from the Greek. Thomas Underdowne’s translation of Heliodorus (1569) and the otherwise unknown B.R.’s translation of Herodotus (1584) are based on uncited Latin translations. Direct translation from the Greek was a mark of prestige claimed by some, only to be challenged by others: George Chapman was embroiled in a dispute of this kind in 1610.20 Given her reputation as an exceptionally learned woman, on which she prided herself, Elizabeth had reasons for concealing her use of a Latin translation. In dedicating to the queen his

19. See Franck L. Schoell, Études sur l’humanisme continental en Angleterre (Paris: Champion, 1926), 136–39; and the discussions of Greek prose in Peter France, ed., The Oxford Guide to Literature in English Translation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 380–91. 20. Schoell, Études, 137–38.

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own verse translation of portions of Plutarch (1561), Thomas Blundeville had praised her for reading Plutarch in “Grekyshe prose.”21 She evidently had no wish to disabuse her admirers regarding her capacities. Yet because she sustained her general practices of close translation and heavy use of cognates while turning prose into verse here, Elizabeth left a range of identifying traces of her source text: Erasmus’s Latin translation of Plutarch’s essay, as printed in the 1572 edition of Plutarch edited by Henri Estienne.22 Right from the outset, the terms in which she expresses Plutarch’s subject and key term reveal her indebtedness to a Latin intermediary: “care” (235), “busy care” (33, 53, 156, 280), and “curious care” (27, 380). This vocabulary of “care,” which would not have been prompted by the Greek term “πολυπραγμοσύνη,” responds to the two senses of Erasmus’s Latin term “curiositas,” derived by way of the adjective “curiosus” from “cura” or “care”; the Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) defines “curiositas” as both “curiosity” and “too much diligence” (excessive care).23 Cultivating an elegant conversational Latin, Erasmus displays creative latitude in rendering Plutarch’s Greek, expatiating and paraphrasing with doublets, explanatory glosses, and original phrases of his own. He also makes some mistakes.24 Elizabeth follows him in each of these respects. Here we give selective examples; others are recorded in the notes to our modern-spelling version of the text. Elizabeth is much closer to Erasmus’s paraphrastic Latin than to the original Greek in the following instances: “science’ study” (32) / “cognoscendi studium” versus “τὴν πολυπραγμοσύνην” (curiosity; 515D); “Locrians’ law” (267) / “Locrensium lex” versus “Λοκρῶν ἄρχοντες” (the Locrian archons / magistrates; 519B); “Thurian laws” (274) / “Thuriensium legibus” (in Thurian laws) versus “ὁ τῶν Θουρίων νομοθέτης” (the Thurian lawgiver; 519B); and “curiosity’s malady” (499) / “curiositatis morbum” versus “τὸ πολύπραγμον” (curiosity; 522E).

21. Thomas Blundeville, Three Morall Treatises (London, 1561), sig. Aiir. 22. Plutarch, Opera, cum Latina Interpretatione, ed. Henri Estienne, 13 vols. (Geneva?, 1572), 8:137–51. 23. On the Renaissance senses of “curiositas” and its Romance cognates, see Neil Kenny, Curiosity in Early Modern Europe: Word Histories (Wiesbaden, Germany: Harrassowitz Verlag, 1998). 24. See Erika Rummel, Erasmus as a Translator of the Classics (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985), 72–87.

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Elizabeth, moreover, translates Erasmus’s phrasal additions to Plutarch, such as “breedeth us offense” (25) / “nos offendunt” and “such as, in the night, to Dian’s temple dedicate were” (126) / “quae noctu celebrantur Dianae” (that were celebrated at night in honor of Diana). She reproduces mistranslations, such as “in chamber” (455) for Erasmus’s “in cubicula” (in bedrooms), where Plutarch reads “φορείοις” (in litters; 522A). Erasmus occasionally leaves Plutarch’s terms in Greek, sometimes retaining Greek letters and sometimes transliterating. Although Leicester Bradner took Elizabeth’s inclusion of three Greek words (lines 282, 333, 507) as evidence that she consulted Plutarch directly, all three words are found in Erasmus, two of them in Greek fonts.25 In the case of “ἐχεμυθια” (282), she applied her knowledge of Greek to transliterate Erasmus’s “echemythiam” back into Greek letters, changing the word to the nominative case and thus reinforcing the mistaken impression about the identity of her source text.26 Various errors made by Elizabeth could have resulted only from misconstruing Erasmus’s Latin without reference to Plutarch’s Greek, which Estienne’s edition prints in a separate volume. Her “straws” and “chaff ” (121–22) render Erasmus’s successive uses of “pallia” (outer garments) to translate Plutarch’s “περιβολὰς” (garments) and “ἱμάτια” (outer garments; 516F). Elizabeth evidently confused “pallia” with “palea” (straw, chaff ). “Sly” (194) confuses Erasmus’s “calidis,” an ablative plural form of the adjective “calidus” (hot, i.e., fresh) that closely renders Plutarch’s “θερμοῖς” (517F), with “callidis,” an ablative plural form of “callidus” (clever, wily). “Wing’d folks” (516) renders Erasmus’s “Aliterii,” Erasmus’s transliteration of Plutarch’s “ἀλιτήριοι” (transgressors; 523B). Taking Erasmus’s term to be genuine Latin, Elizabeth evidently guessed at its sense by way of the Latin adjective “ales, alitis” (winged). There is also compelling evidence that Elizabeth used the specific version of Erasmus’s translation in Estienne’s 1572 edition of Plutarch. She closely follows all of the substantive variants that distinguish Esti-

25. Leicester Bradner, note in The Poems of Queen Elizabeth I, ed. Bradner (Providence, RI: Brown University Press, 1964), 88. 26. Though Bradner does not discuss this instance, Elizabeth also puts Erasmus’s transliterated Greek term “euphronen” back into Greek letters in line 495. (In all four cases Elizabeth omits, as seems to have been her habit, Greek accent marks.) Similarly, Elizabeth’s spelling “Dioxsipon” (395) adds a Greek ending to the name that would be rendered as Dioxippus in English. Erasmus gives the name in Latin form—“Dioxippum.”

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enne’s from Erasmus’s original Latin version.27 These include “maiden that no bringing-up, such as were meet, hath had” (402) / “famulam non probe institutam” (a servant girl not well brought up) versus Erasmus’s “famulam absque custode” (a servant girl without guardian) in other editions; “meat” in its early modern sense of ‘food’ (294) / “opsonium” (victuals) versus Erasmus’s “piscem” (fish); and “is lanced” (481) / “lancinatur” (is mangled) versus Erasmus’s “sugitur” (is sucked). “Camel form” (343) misconstrues the rare term “struthiocamelum” (ostrich) in Estienne’s edition, at whose meaning Elizabeth guessed from its ending. Her guess has no basis in the Greek or in Erasmus’s original Latin: Plutarch reads “στρουθοκεφάλους” (520C), which can mean sparrow- or ostrich-headed; Erasmus reads “passerem” (sparrow). One final example demonstrates Elizabeth’s reliance on Estienne’s 1572 edition rather than Plutarch’s Greek or Erasmus’s original Latin version. Reinforcing his insistence that his reader study his own faults, not those of others, by quoting a probably corrupt line from an unidentified author, Plutarch likens these numerous faults to the waters of a river and the leaves of an oak: “ὅσον ὕδωρ κατ’ Ἀλιζόνος ἢ δρυὸς ἀμφὶ πέτηλα” (As much water as flows down into the Alizon river, or as many leaves as are upon the oak 515D). Erasmus’s original Latin version of this line imagines an encompassing flood: “Insula quam multa vel drys oppletur aquae vi” (How much an island or oak is overspread by the rush of water). Elizabeth’s rendering, “As great a stream as water’s flood doth bring to bay, / Or circled oak, by falling leaves from tree” (36–37) follows the expatiating Latin of Estienne’s edition: “Quanta Isthmum circum defertur copia aquarum, / Aut quercum circum quantum stratum est foliorum” (As much abundance of water as flows down around the Isthmus, / Or as many leaves as are strewn around the oak). Her use of two lines, her oak “circled” by “falling” leaves that recall “circum . . . stratum,” and her “bay” that recalls the Latin “Isthmus” (“bay” may in fact have the obsolete sense of ‘isthmus’)—all these particulars point to Estienne’s edition as her source. As far as we have been able to determine, moreover, all of these variants are unique to Estienne’s version and to the translation upon which he based his own, a Plutarch anthology of 1554, reprinted in 1555, ed27. O. Herding’s and A. J. Koster’s modern critical edition collates the variants in editions of Erasmus’s translation published during his lifetime: Desiderius Erasmus, Opera Omnia, pt. 4, vol. 2 (Amsterdam: North-Holland Publishing Company, 1977), 289–304.

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ited by Iano Cornario.28 Elizabeth may have used the Cornario edition of Plutarch for her Sententiae. For her Plutarch translation in 1598, however, she must have used Estienne’s 1572 complete Plutarch (which postdates the Sententiae) rather than Cornario’s edition, because she follows Estienne in his only substantive divergence from Cornario; her “sing” (58) renders Estienne’s “canere.” Here Estienne retains the reading found in all editions of the Erasmus translation that we have consulted except Cornario’s, which reads “degere” (live, pass the time) in place of “canere.” Given Elizabeth’s commitment to close translation, her departures from Erasmus’s wording in Estienne’s edition afford instructive glimpses into her concerns. Our general introduction to this edition notes her recurrent toning down of Erasmus’s (and Plutarch’s) sexual slurs, conveying a sense of female delicacy and self-respect. Otherwise her most striking deviations have to do with rank and royal status. Plutarch advises those tempted to pry into others’ affairs, including matters of state, to divert themselves by reading historical works on the misfortunes of monarchs and great men. Elizabeth expands Erasmus’s phrase “eiectiones principum” (banishment of princes) into the strongly condemnatory line “The treasons huge, of kings from kingdoms thrown” (189). What was diverting to Plutarch had a more ominous resonance for England’s beleaguered queen. Other departures, probably unintentional, also cast light on her social and political biases. Plutarch describes the defiant bravery of a Roman Stoic, Junius Arulenus Rusticus, whom the tyrannical emperor Domitian put to death in 93 C.E. Mistaking the name Rusticus for the adjective “rusticus” (rustic, uncouth man), Elizabeth terms him a “clown” (491), a dismissive period term for a countryman or boor. While Erasmus follows Plutarch in describing Domitian’s envy of Rusticus, Elizabeth describes how this “clown” “envied much the prince’s glory” (492), thus exposing the hierarchical bias in her assumption about who would envy whom. Elizabeth also significantly renders Plutarch’s critique of subjects’ curiosity about “kingly words and deeds” (504) more clearly than his critique of rulers’ curiosity about subjects. As a monarch with an in-

28. See Plutarch, Ethica sive Moralia Opera, ed. Iano Cornario (Basel, 1554). By contrast, the posthumous editions of Erasmus’s translation in Plutarch anthologies of 1530 (Basel), 1532 (Basel), 1544 (Paris), and 1566 (Paris) preserve Erasmus’s original readings in all the instances we discuss above and in our notes.

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telligence network, she may well have been troubled by his final focus on the detestable informers whom tyrants employ (505–26). Erasmus sometimes refers to these men as “delatores” (informers), sometimes as “sycophantae” (the Latin cognate of Plutarch’s Greek term for informers). Elizabeth renders “delatores” as “flatterers” (506, 511) and as “fleering folk” (509), persons who laugh or smile fawningly. While odd in context, these renderings draw on a widespread early modern conception of informers as devious flatterers—both of those they ostensibly serve and of those they spy upon. Thomas Elyot’s and Thomas Thomas’s dictionaries define a “delator” not only as “a secret accuser” and “tell-tale” but also as a “pickthank,” that is, a “person who curries favour with another, especially by informing against someone else; a flatterer” (OED). In 1596 Thomas Nashe described a “curious intelligencer” of the English government as a “fleering false brother . . . that flatters and fawns vpon everyone . . . till hee may spy an advantage, and pluck out his throat.”29 Elizabeth renders Erasmus’s “sycophantae” as “scenters” (512), presumably persons who smell out secrets, and as “sycophants” (521, 523). Her use of the cognate reinforces the close association of informers and flatterers, for “sycophant” in Renaissance English had both its original Greek sense of ‘informer’ and its current sense of ‘flattering parasite.’ In conflating the informer and the flatterer, Elizabeth casts the informer as an enemy not only of the subjects upon whom he spies but also of the ruler he ostensibly serves, who actually is one of his victims. While it cannot be known how much likeness she would have acknowledged between the “intelligencers” of the English court and Plutarch’s flattering knaves, her translation works to shift agency and blame for corruption from the master-ruler to the servant-spy.

* As Windebank’s endorsement noted, Elizabeth decided to render her Plutarch “into English meter.” Perhaps a partial motive was to disguise her reliance on Erasmus as her source. In a more positive light, however, she stamped the text with appropriate artistry of her own by adopting a humanist procedure. In The Schoolmaster Ascham discusses the rhetorical exercise of “metaphrasis,” turning a work of prose into verse 29. Thomas Nashe, Have with You to Saffron-Walden (1596), in Works of Thomas Nashe, ed. R. B. McKerrow, rev. F .P. Wilson, 5 vols. (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1958), 3:106–7.

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(or vice versa), sometimes in the same language, sometimes from one language to another. He notes that Cicero translated Hesiod’s verses into Latin prose.30 Elizabeth herself knew Renaissance examples of the practice, including the translation of Queen Katherine Parr’s Lamentation of a Sinner (1547) into rhymed French decasyllables made by Jean Bellemain, her French tutor, probably around 1548; and Thomas Blundeville’s versification of two brief essays by Plutarch into tetrameter quatrains (1561). The latter volume was dedicated to Elizabeth with commendatory verses by Ascham, who in that year was serving her as a Latin secretary. Like her translations of Boethius’s lyrics some five years earlier, Elizabeth’s versified translation of “De curiositate” takes the form of unrhymed lines of varying lengths with a prevailing iambic meter. However, the line units of the “De curiositate” translation tend to markedly greater length than those in Boethius. Unambiguous instances across the spectrum of 526 lines include two eight-syllable lines; 17 ten-syllable lines; 129 twelve-syllable lines; 98 fourteen-syllable lines; 21 sixteen-syllable lines; three eighteen-syllable lines; and two twenty-syllable lines.31 The predominance of twelve- and fourteen-syllable lines suggests that Elizabeth’s implicit verse norm for this translation is the entire long-line unit of the fourteener and poulter’s measure, not their caesurally defined subunits of eight and six syllables, as in her Boethius. While her alternating indentation of lines alludes in particular to poulter’s measure, whose rhyming couplets of twelve and fourteen syllables are often printed in this format, she does not render the sense in paired lines, as she sometimes does in her Boethius translation. Here the individual long line becomes her compositional unit. Since fourteeners and poulter’s measure were primarily used for didactic, sententious poetry,

30. Roger Ascham, The Schoolmaster (1570), ed. Lawrence V. Ryan (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia for Folger Shakespeare Library, 1967), 98–106. 31. Factoring in lines with contractions and expansions highlights the predominance of longer lines. Contraction reduces 13 lines from 11 to 10 syllables; 2 lines from 12 to 10 lines; 47 lines from 13 to 12 syllables; 8 lines from 14 to 12 syllables; 40 lines from 15 to 14 syllables; 8 lines from 16 to 14 syllables; 3 lines from 17 to 14 syllables; 12 lines from 17 to 16 syllables; 2 lines from 18 to 16 syllables; 2 lines from 19 to 16 syllables; 4 lines from 19 to 18 syllables; 1 line from 20 to 18 syllables; and 1 line from 22 to 18 syllables. Expansion increases 1 line from 9 to 10 syllables; 21 lines from 11 to 12 syllables; 1 line from 10 to 12 syllables; 8 lines from 13 to 14 syllables; and 3 lines from 15 to 16 syllables.

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there is generic aptness in her loose but persistent approximations of these verse forms in her “De curiositate” translation. Elizabeth compensates for the lack of formal definition that rhyme provides by again correlating line endings with major phrase boundaries. Lines 238–44 are typical twelve-syllable and fourteen-syllable iambic verse units that are also phrasal and clausal units: The busy man seeks out all these, and many worse, That with no mind to cure, but clatter out the same: Wherefore no nickname they shall give, that names the envious folk. For searchers we disdain, and hardly brook we can, Not when they find that, openly, is brought to view of all, But such as hidden be, in vessels and in packs, And yet, the law it bids; and, for neglect, should smart.

The “De curiositate” translation more stringently maintains this and other prosodic norms than her translations of Boethius’s lyrics do. These 526 lines contain only fourteen exceptions to the correspondence of verse units and phrase boundaries at line end. The exceptions mainly consist of straddled transitive verb phrases: “all shaking, dreads / What dwells within” (97–98); “passing o’er / Institutes, lessons” (103–4); “that strive / The light from him to turn” (139–40); “takes out / The worst from them” (322–23); “about them carry / A most unpleasing, ungraceful table” (336–37); “lest that they should / His mind keep shut” (416–17); “shutting show / From windows” (419–20); and “nourish shall / Curiosity’s malady” (498–99). There are also the straddled clausal conjunction, “until / . . . to Athens he hoist up sails” (88–89); and the straddled comparative construction, “no whit less / Than if adulterer’s part he played” (303–4). The four remaining exceptions involve correlative constructions with “so . . . as” or “such . . . as” (301–2, 323–24, 325–26, 362–63). Beyond these modest deviations, the text contains at most twenty-seven headless lines and at most thirty-one lines with feminine endings.32 In a further indication of conservative compositional ten-

32. Some cases of headlessness and feminine endings might be eliminated by metrical expansion or contraction. The twenty-seven instances include the clearly headless lines 31, 33, 141, 165, 168, 172, 191, 355, 415, 462, 464, and 469, to which may be added headlessness involving metrical contraction in lines 104, 113, 203, 263, 273, 283, 286, 310, 311, 337, 412, 525, and the option of either headlessness or metrical contraction / expansion in lines 79, 518, and 522. The thirty-one instances include the clear cases of feminine endings in

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dencies, headless lines cluster in the first half of the translation, feminine endings in the latter half. In short, Elizabeth rarely avails herself of these forms of metrical license in her verse translation of “De curiositate,” and she even more rarely intermixes them. As in her verse renderings of Boethius and Horace, Elizabeth freely employs stress inversion in any foot in a line, except the final one, if the immediately following foot reaffirms the iambic rhythm. She exploits comparatively rarely the commonest site of stress inversion in sixteenth-century English poetry, the line-initial foot, though instances do occur (see, e.g., 101). More frequently she exploits stress inversions and their immediate righting in successive feet within a line. Examples include “And hither turn our wit’s sharpness and plying mind” (393) and “So must we shun such shows and tales as entice and allure” (443)— the latter employing stress righting in the final foot to register within poetic form the jeopardy that the line warns against. The “De curiositate” translation contains only two examples of a line-final stress inversion and two examples of multiple, unrighted stress inversions, four meter-breaking lines which seem deliberately expressive gestures in their respective pronouncements on morality strained to its limits or inverted altogether: The wife’s dishonor, the servants’ baits, the friends’ slander (187) For, as like ’twas that famine had Athens plagued, nor owners would their corn utter (517) So each man abroad, in others’ matters, with hate (61) With violence great, thou use, and use it may reason’s lore (435) Yet despite the various conservative prosodic practices by which Elizabeth sustains the formal structure and the perceptibility of her rhymeless iambic lines, her freer prosodic practices afford a better sense of how she turned Erasmus’s conversational Latin prose into her English verse. While she was evidently seeking to compose twelve-syllable and fourteen-syllable lines, her default mode for rendering the colloquial copiousness of Erasmus’s Latin drew upon analogous features of English—most strikingly, repeated recourse to expatiating, talky line units that exceed her implicit twelve- and fourteen-syllable norms and lines 55, 196, 198, 312, 323, 327, 336, 351, 362, 365, 368, 387, 404, 426, 428, 430, 478, 480, 492, 495, 496, 499, 501, and 508, together with the option of either a feminine ending or metrical contraction in lines 81, 364, 436, 447, 451, 466, and 502.

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lavish use of contraction to pack linguistic material into a verse unit.33 Recurrent contractions include thirty-one occurrences of “curious” sounded as “cur’ious” (with “y-glide”), five occurrences of “cur’iosity” and one of “cur’ios’ty,” fifteen occurrences of “evil” or “evils” sounded as “ill” or “ills,” six occurrences of “op’n,” “op’ns,” or “op’ning,” eight occurrences of “ev’n,” and four occurrences of “o’er.” Other contractions account for an additional 197 occurrences.34 By contrast, there are just 33. The premium on colloquialism makes questions of pronunciation particularly vital. Elizabeth’s “De curiositate” translation contains three certain cases of stress doublets, where sixteenth-century English had not yet settled into present-day stress assignment: bargáins (255); instrúment (338; cf. ínstruments 232); incréase (noun; 355). Unusual complexity is presented by a cluster of long lines containing names of classical personages and places (84, 141, 231, 316, 326, 333, 395). It seems clear that the Greek accentuation “Simonídes” applies in line 316, but other cases are not straightforward. Their resolution appears to rely, like much else in this text, on metrical contraction. 34. These metrical contractions include som’other (7); alt’rings (9); Emped’cles (14); an’ air (22); labor’at (23); poss’ble (24); breed’th (25); env’y (29); study’nd (32); eke’of (39); Xen’phon (41); sacr’fice (42); and’ where (52); study’and (53); bus’ness (54); have’ I (57); Lam’ia (58); t’ hell (71); murd’ring (74); Pythag’ras (83); Olymp’ia (84); Thirsty’nd, t’Athens (89); phil’sophy (90); matt’r’ in, rhet’ric (104); is’ it, t’ enter (109); chast’ning (113); t’ all (115); ded’cate (126); Com’dy (128); might’ier’s (137); shall’ I (142); lib’ral (145); prosp’rous (147); hidd’n (149); heav’n (158); Wh’er (159); ev’ry (174); car’st (180); seek’st (181); ru’in (186); dishon’r (187); jeal’sies (188); sacr’fice (198); how’oft (199); tell’r (200); dishon’sted (201); broth’rs (202); leis’ure (203); Unlucky’ nd (210); E’er (217); env’ious (225); hum’r (228); before’ his (230); Hi’roph’lus, ’or Aesc’lap’ius (231); fist’ula (233); wheth’r (234); albe’it (235);env’ious (240); sh’ll’ tell (254); matt’r (256); cit’y’s (261); from’ his (262); list’ning (263); fall’n, pass’ngers, It’ly (266); Locr’ians’ (267); plenty’ of, bus’ness (272); e’er (273); Thur’ian, cit’zens (274); For’dultery, inquiry’ and (276); fell’ws (280); ἐχ’μυθια (282); couns’l (290); comp’ny (291); rath’r (298); Or’e- (299); B’llerophon (300); cont’nence (302); adult’rer’s (304); T’ the, glor’ious (307); oth’rs (310); whisper’ers (311); -vants’ nd (312); So’ if (318); sight’ ll (320); go’ on, ent’ring, book’ nd (322); he’ have (323); trag’cal (325); ’gainst (326); ’t shall (330); Phil’p, wicked’st (332); gather’ nd (334); incongru’ty (336); tabl’ of (337); Viewing’ and (342); But’ if (345); lin’eage (347); rabble ’nd, befall’n (348); Rememb’r (350); prof ’t (351); therefore’ avail (352); eas’iest (358); T’disdain, ’r writ (361); were’it (362); walls’ in (363); ly’ms (371); eag’rlier (373); of ’their (374); ev’ry (375); lift’ his (376); tal’ns (378); narr’wly, knowledge’ of (381); Xenocr’tes (386); diff ’rence, wh’er (387); noth’ing (391); Yet’ a (392); Diog’nes, Diox’ppus, Olymp’ia (395); char’iot, carr’ied, abl’ (396); ’th’wry (398); t’ each (399); and’ as (404); then ’gain (405); Soph’cles (407); to’that (412); suff ’ring (418); ’tis (421); n’ other (426); t’ such (427); that’s (428); thea’ter (437); Or’ if (439); For’as (440); of ’ such, th’ unhungry (441); foll’w (448); me ’gain (449); ser’ious (451); Alexand’r, Dar’ius (452); bett’r, cont’nent (460); La’ius (470); mother’ his (471); th’ old, guilty’ he (474); kindl’d’ and (478); blood’ies (481); spir’t (482); godd’ss (484); tell’ him (489); rath’r’ (490); list’ning (492); hear’ers (496); did’ admire, grav’ty (497); by’ all (498); vi’lent (499); ’tis (500); young’r, hear’rs (507); oth’rs’ (508); Dionys’ians, foisted’ among, Syr’cusans (509); chang’dst (510); flatter’ers (511); anoth’r (512); ’twas, fam’ne (517); walking ’bout

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four occurrences of disyllabic “evils” (45, 181, 329, 345), seven occurrences of trisyllabic “curious” (65, 181, 183, 297, 299, 318, 334), and two uncontracted instances of “curiosity” (220, 278), which in this context seems to accord them the status of metrical expansions. Single-instance expansions account for forty-eight additional occurrences.35 For a sense of the overall metrical effect, consider the ebb and flow of lines 272–80. In this passage and the one to follow, metrical contractions are underscored, the effect on syllable count noted parenthetically, and headlessness and feminine endings indicated by (x): So curious men wish plenty of evil, and business much, (16 to 12) (x) New and strange event—which ever they hunt and kill. (12 to 11, headless) Yea, heedly do the Thurian laws, that charge no citizens’ check, (16 to 14) In comedy be used, but to the wandering or curious men: (17 to 16) For adultery, desire of other’ pleasures, inquiry and search make (18 to 16) Of matter such as hid is, hardly to be known. (12) For curiosity a palsy is, consumption eke that shows what covert should, (20) Which makes the chatting Vice to follow care of knowing much. (14) And so, cannot be shunned, but slander fellows the busy care. (15 to 14).

Elizabeth’s evocative phrase “chatting Vice” (279), rendering Erasmus’s “garrulitatis vitium,” assumes ever darker overtones as “De curiositate” draws to a close by taking up the subject of clandestine political maneuvering and its destructive effects. Given the delicacy of this subject for her, Plutarch’s reflections on rulers and the informers in their employ tellingly prove unmanageable within her normative line lengths. Other prosodic constraints begin to give way: headless and feminine lines mingle for the first time in this text, and even metrical

(519); giv’n, alit’rii (520); syc’phants (521); n’ man (522); syc’phants (523); guilty’ of (525); t’ all (526). 35. Single-instance metrical expansions include dimmèd (3); changèd, staïrs (6); wrièd (13); faultës (38); housë (48); wäy (49); warnèd (67); damë (72); youngë (85); pickèd (86); movèd (87); fillèd (97); carës (105); sparrèd (118); strawës (121); feästs (125); reavèd (136); soür (149); learnèd (169); barèd (176); condemnèd (211); thörough (212); cursèd (216); longèd (247); sourèd (250); quickëly (251); spawën (271); seäls (299); eärs (311); namèd (324); unseëmly (331); picturës (339); söld (341); armës (342); prièd (349); wholë (372); fiercëness (379); freëd (408); hurlës (413); eyës, firèd (415); praisèd (453); throwën (501); steppës (504); millës (519); likë (521); shamë (524).

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contraction approaches the limits of what it can do to hold syllable sequences together as iambic verse. Lines 507–10 are illustrative: Therefore, younger Darius the first, some hearers he had as ὠτακουστας called, (20 to 18) Himself mistrusting, doubting others’ annoy, and fearing. (x) (14 to 13, feminine) But Dionysians foisted among the Syracusans such fleering folk (19 to 16) Whom in changedst state, when Syracusans found, destroyed. (13 to 12).

Evoking the specter of a political order fraught with fear, suspicion, and the prospect of violence, the long-line units of Elizabeth’s versified translation paradoxically display their expressiveness as they teeter on the brink of dissolution into English prose. In their overextension and their precariousness, they register the disorder engendered by the abuses of trust and speech exposed in “De curiositate.” The queen manifestly had the state of her court and her kingdom much on her mind as she worked through Erasmus’s text and composed her own.

* As a complication peculiar to it, Elizabeth’s “De curiositate” translation survives in two discrete manuscripts: her autograph text and British Library, MS Royal 17.A.44, fols. 1–12v, which Steven W. May identified as her clerk Windebank’s fair copy and published in a modern-spelling transcription.36 May has argued that the manuscript in Windebank’s hand is a good deal more than the single day’s copying work noted in its endorsement as “copied out by her Majesty’s order to me the thirteenth of November.” Based on his comparison of Royal 17.A.44 with Elizabeth’s autograph text, State Papers 12 / 289, fols. 90r–99v, May advances a twofold claim: (1) the version in Windebank’s hand incorporates a considerable number of substantive revisions by Elizabeth of her autograph draft; (2) Windebank’s copy also contains a significant number of instances of metrical smoothing of the long-line verse in Elizabeth’s manuscript, working toward a norm of a twelve-syllable line in imita-

36. Queen Elizabeth I: Selected Works, ed. Steven W. May (New York: Washington Square Press, 2004), 296–325.

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tion of the classical hexameter.37 May interprets both the substantive variants and the attempts at metrical smoothing as evidence that Royal 17.A.44 preserves Elizabeth’s latest intentions regarding her translation of “De curiositate” and therefore qualifies as the superior copy-text. We, however, have reached a different conclusion, based on our independent transcription of State Papers 12 / 289, fols. 90r–99v, our identification of the 1572 Erasmus translation as Elizabeth’s source, and our comparison of the two manuscript texts. While six variants in Windebank’s copy seem to us arguably to result from Elizabeth’s own revisions, we regard most of Windebank’s variants as misconstruals caused by difficulties in reading Elizabeth’s hand, minor deviations that invariably arise in copying, or alterations that he unilaterally introduced into her text. May is surely correct that Elizabeth reviewed Windebank’s fair copy of her autograph text in some fashion. Overall, we believe her review was cursory and sporadic.38 But we agree with May in accepting the following six instances, with varying degrees of probability, as revisions made or approved by her. Line 62 in Windebank’s copy substitutes for “regard,” the reading in Elizabeth’s autograph text, an inadvertent repetition of the word “thought” from earlier in the line; later this second “thought” was struck through and “Care” written above it in Elizabeth’s hand. “Curious care” in line 62 renders Erasmus’s “curiositatem” with the same phrase that she uses in lines 27 and 380; this appears to be her correction. Line 339 in Elizabeth’s autograph text has a space the size of six or seven characters left blank. Windebank’s copy reads “statues,” which tallies with Erasmus’s “statuas” and must reflect Elizabeth’s intentions. Revisions in lines 220, 225, and 233 probably stem from her close attention to a short stretch of her translated text. In line 220, Windebank neatly corrects his copy from “curious folks have,” the reading in her autograph draft, to “curiosity hath,” a rendering closer to Erasmus’s “curiositas est.” How did Windebank come to adjust Elizabeth’s original phrasing to a reading closer to her Latin source? Metrical smoothing is an implausible explanation, since the result is a roughened line. Elizabeth must have instructed Windebank to make this correction. In line

37. Ibid., 327–28. 38. These are also the characteristics of Elizabeth’s corrections to the prose sections of her Boethius translation that she dictated to Windebank: sporadic clusters of local changes in her hand interspersed with long stretches of text without any changes.

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233, she first wrote “Wher asked whether” and then mistakenly deleted “whether” and inserted “were.” She should have deleted “Wher,” a contracted form of ‘whether,’ and substituted “Were” for it. Windebank’s reading “Were asked if ” rectifies the mix-up, quite probably on instructions from Elizabeth. Line 225 reads “brethren” in Elizabeth’s draft but “brother” in Windebank’s copy. His reading is faithful to Erasmus’s dative singular, “fratri,” which Elizabeth may initially have mistaken for a plural form and then instructed him to correct. In this case, however, as in other cases recorded in our notes, Windebank may simply have corrected the reading on the basis of the context, which clearly calls for a singular form. Another unclear example occurs in line 387, where Elizabeth’s manuscript reads “whether feet or hand the house did enter.” Windebank’s copy reads “whether feet or eyes”; Erasmus’s “pedes an oculos” (feet or eyes) confirms this reading. Windebank may have queried Elizabeth for clarification. Alternatively, since it is obvious that a “hand” entering a house makes no sense, this variant reading may have originated with Windebank himself. The main point, however, is the following: Windebank’s fair copy cannot be regarded as the product of Elizabeth’s final intentions, because many of its variant readings are misreadings of her manuscript that deviate from the sense of Erasmus’s Latin, sometimes at the cost of larger contextual meaning. We give a few examples here; our notes to the modern-spelling text provide a fuller enumeration. In line 49 Elizabeth’s main verb is the imperative “put out,” rendering Erasmus’s “obturato” (stop up, close); Windebank misreads “put out” as “patent,” thus eliminating a main verb. In lines 109–10 Windebank reverses the present- and past-tense verb constructions, thus obscuring Elizabeth’s close rendering of Erasmus’s temporal contrast. In line 136 Elizabeth reads “afore he feel,” rendering “priusquam sentiat” (before he feels); Windebank writes “afore he feed.” In line 524 Elizabeth reads “shame,” rendering Erasmus’s “pudeat”; Windebank misreads “shame” as “shun.” In line 331 Elizabeth reads “sealing”—i.e., sealing up—“the storing of others’ sin,” rendering “collectio repositioque peccatorum alienorum” (the collecting and storage of others’ sin); Windebank misreads “sealing” as “slaying,” a verb with no relation to the Latin. Such misreadings are easily explained. Elizabeth’s versified translation of “De curiositate” confronts the would-be transcriber with the most severe challenge of any of her autograph manuscripts, mainly because she made so many compressed, nearly illegible additions and

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corrections to her long-lined verse. To take one striking example, lines 463–64 read “Breeding this custom in curiosity: / Prove, sometime, that thee doth touch, neglect.” The second line, which is tightly squeezed into Elizabeth’s manuscript, means “Try, sometimes, to ignore what concerns you personally” and renders Erasmus’s “tenta nonunquam & eorum quae ad te pertinent nonnulla dissimulare” (try to ignore sometimes some things that concern you). Probably because he could not decipher Elizabeth’s second line, Windebank reduces the two lines to one, “Breeding this custom in curiosity, prove sometime that,” which truncates and garbles the sense. Yet the inadequacy of both Caroline Pemberton’s and Leicester Bradner’s original-spelling transcriptions of Elizabeth’s “De curiositate” translation makes the two manuscripts seem more discrepant than they are and thus serves, by contrast, to vindicate the level of accuracy that Windebank attained overall.39 The correct placement, in his copy, of line 388, “For neither just, honest, nor pleasing were such show,” which improperly appears some two hundred lines earlier in Pemberton and Bradner, offers a prime example of Windebank’s attentiveness to Elizabeth’s instructions. In her manuscript this line appears by itself on fol. 93v. Elizabeth’s insertion mark, a heavily retraced caret, is found in the bottom right-hand corner of fol. 93r, and its counterpart, another heavily retraced caret, appears at the head of line 389, one line from the bottom on fol. 97r. The placement is further confirmed by Erasmus’s closely corresponding Latin at this juncture: “Neque enim iustum neque honestum ac ne iucundum quidem spectaculum est” (For the sight is neither just nor honorable nor even pleasant).40 Elizabeth probably explained to Windebank that she overlooked line 388 in the process of translating and told him where and how to rectify her omission. May plausibly claims that Windebank’s fair copy reveals attempts at metrical smoothing. Although we see no reason for her to have taken 39. Caroline Pemberton, ed., Queen Elizabeth’s Englishings of Boethius, “De consolatione philosophiae,” A.D. 1593; Plutarch, “De curiositate” [1598]; Horace, “De arte poetica” (part), A.D. 1598, Early English Text Society orig. ser. 113 (London, 1899), 121–41; Bradner, ed., Poems of Elizabeth I, 51–68. 40. Pemberton and Bradner misplace this line between lines 177 and 178 in our numbering, which is chap. 5, line 24, in theirs (Pemberton, Queen Elizabeth’s Englishings, 127; Bradner, Poems of Elizabeth I, 57). Misled by the misplacement, both incorrectly treat the line as Elizabeth’s invention (Pemberton, 127; Bradner, 90).

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the classical hexameter as her model for translating Latin prose into native English verse, Elizabeth, mindful of the number of her lines that exceeded fourteen syllables, may well have directed Windebank to condense what long lines he could as he copied her versified translation. Yet his metrical revisions cannot be equated with Elizabeth’s own poetic intentions, for an appreciable number of his revisions adversely affect the meaning and / or the rhythm of a line, and the overall results of his presumed attempts at smoothing and shortening are at best incomplete and piecemeal. One example of metrical shortening that operates at the cost of closeness to Erasmus’s Latin is Elizabeth’s seventeen-syllable “A gladsomeness of evil, the joy conceived of others’ wicked acts” (227), which Windebank reduces to fourteen syllables with impaired sense and rhythm: “A gladness of evil, the joy conceived of wicked acts.” The omission of “others’ ” (Erasmus’s “alienis”) subverts the point, which is the curious person’s interest in others rather than himself. Windebank’s version of one of Elizabeth’s metrically regular fourteeners, “But busy man the clowny life doth hate, as empty, cold” (257), reduces the three final iambic feet to “hates so empty, cold,” simultaneously roughening the meter and diverging from Erasmus’s “fugiunt . . . vti rem quampiam inanem, frigidam” (shun as something empty, cold). Again, where Elizabeth concludes a metrically regular sixteen-syllable line (with “curious” contracted) with two iambs, “doth make abode” (130), Windebank’s shortening to “abode makes” gives the line a meter-breaking ending. Elsewhere Windebank’s variants make Elizabeth’s twelve- to fourteen-syllable lines less rather than more regular. His copy lacks “give” in her perfectly regular line “We make them serve our turn, and help us give the best” (26). Similarly, her “That telleth them their lacks, and where they do amiss” (66) lacks “them” in Windebank’s copy, producing a headless, awkward line. Line 123 is a wholly regular fourteener except for the stress inversion in its fifth foot: “But walls he breaks, and opens doors, even to silly maids.” Windebank’s addition of “the” before “silly” breaks the meter without helping the sense. Further examples of the equivocal metrical results of Windebank’s revisions can be found in our notes. To sum up, in our judgment, Elizabeth’s rough autograph draft remains the most authoritative source for her versified translation of Erasmus’s Plutarch, supplemented by the handful of variants in Windebank’s copy that seem, as discussed above, to have stemmed from her explicit instructions and revisions.

Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Desiderius Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch’s De curiositate, November 3–9, 1598 (original-spelling version)1 perchance hit might be best to Shun at AL that home Wher throughout the Wind passage none can get Or dimmed darke or subiect to the Cold and Windz Or elz to siknis thraL that breedesth helths decay but if So one deLight by Costom in suche plase the Lights may changed be or staiers alter Case Or dores some With w for the passage some other shutted be Wiche alL may b fayrer muche may frame hit Clear with bettar helth And Some haue SerVed ther Cities turn by alterings suche [10] A Sample may my Country maKe as said hit is that that bending to Zephyrus Wynde and from Parnasus receauing taking Sonne Strait that to the west his course did turn2 by Cherons heLp

1. Source: Kew, Surrey, The National Archives, State Papers 12 / 289, fols. 90r–99v. This rough draft is almost entirely autograph, written in Elizabeth’s late, loosely formed italic hand. This text is much more heavily revised than the Boethius and Horace translations with which it is bound, presumably because Elizabeth was versifying while Englishing her prose source, Estienne’s 1572 edition of Erasmus’s Latin translation of Plutarch’s original. The date is recorded in Thomas Windebank’s hand in the endorsement at the end of the manuscript. The infrequent insertions in his hand are individually noted. 2. bending . . . turn This sequence of words is in Windebank’s italic hand. The revision of “Strait” to “that” is in Elizabeth’s hand.

Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Desiderius Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch’s De curiositate, November 3–9, 1598 (modern-spelling version) Perchance it might be best to shun, at all, that home Where, throughout, the wind passage none can get, Or dimmèd dark, or subject to the cold and winds, Or else, to sickness thrall, that breedeth health’s decay. But if so one delight, by custom, in such place, The lights may changèd be, or stairs alter case,1 Or doors—some for the passage, some other shutted be: Which fairer much may frame it clear,2 with better health. And some have served their cities’ turn by alt’rings such. 10 A sample3 may my country make, as said it is, That, bending to Zephyrus’ wind, and from4 Parnassus taking sun, That, to the West his course did turn. By Chaeron’s help5

1. stairs . . . case the staircase altered. stairs Elizabeth’s spelling “staiers” indicates disyllabic punctuation. 2. frame . . . clear frame it make the home. clear bright. 3. sample example. 4. from “fro” (Windebank). 5. Chaeron’s help Chaeron was the mythical founder of Chaeronea, Plutarch’s home city in Boeotia.

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hit wryed Was to East the Sons arising place EmpedocLes Eke the knoWer WeL of natures Cours Is Said to stop the gaping WhirLpoLe mountain On3 deap cLif of hiL amid the Rok

Whiche GriVous Was and siknys ful place the place for that the Northen Wind did beat on negybours filds and thus the plage Out chast from regions ground Therfor if plagyd Wilz ther be that noyfuL are ^ Vnsound Arising tempest great and dimeLy darks the mynd [20] best shal hit hit be giue themm repuls and doWne throW flat to ground So to our selVes Oure selues We bride an an air clear a Ligh and brethe ful pur

And if this may not be Yet Let our Labor at Lest be this that by al menes that possibLe make We may To tourning of from Vs and changeding so aL that brideth Vs offense We make them serue Our tourne and helpe us geue the best A sample Let us make of Curius Cur nideLes Care Whenhos study is naugh eLs but other harmes to KnoWe diseas that nether Void is of enuy nor pure from WicKed is Why than O man With enuye fuL on others ylz [30] Sharpist sight dothst set and ne thy oWin dost se InWard draWe thy science study and so hit apply That thy Curiosenes busy Care be tourned from OutWard to thyn oWn

3. On Undeleted residue of Elizabeth’s revision to line 15. 6. Empedocles . . . course Empedocles (493–433 B.C.E.) was a cosmologist, metaphysician, and poet. the . . . course “physicus” (philosopher of Nature). 7. sickness-full “morbiferum” (sickness-carrying). Windebank misreads as “sickens full.” 8. Northern wind “Notum ventum” (the Southern wind). 9. plaguey . . . ’noyful plaguey pestiferous; “pestiferae.” wills desires; “cupiditates” (desires). Plutarch, by contrast, reads “πάθη” (passions 515C). ’noyful full of annoyance; “noxiae.” 10. Arising arousing; “invehentes.” Windebank reads “A rising.” 11. down . . . flat “demoliri” (to pull down). Windebank’s “down fall down” obscures the sense. 12. breath . . . pure Windebank’s “breth pure” mars the meter. 13. yet . . . this “lett vs labour at least thus” (Windebank).

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It wrièd was to East, the sun’s arising place. Empedocles, eke, the knower well of Nature’s course,6 Is said to stop the gaping deep of hill amid the rock, Which grievous was; and sickness-full7 the place, For that the Northern wind8 did beat on neighbors’ fields; And thus the plague outcast from region’s ground. Therefore, if plaguey wills there be, that ’noyful9 are, unsound, 20 Arising10 tempest great, and dimly darks the mind, 11 Best shall it be: give them repulse, and down throw flat to ground, So to ourselves we breed an air clear, a light and breath full pure.12 And if this may not be, yet let our labor at least be this:13 That by all means that possible make we may, Turning from us and changing all, breedeth us offense,14 We make them serve our turn, and help us give15 the best. A sample let us make, of curious, needless care, Whose study is nought else but other’ harms to know;16 Disease that neither void of envy, nor pure from wicked is.17 “Why, then, O man, with envy full, on others’ ills 30 Sharpest sight dost set, and not thy own dost see?”18 Inward draw thy science’ study,19 and so it apply That thy busy care20 be turned from outward to thine own.

14. breedeth . . . offense “quae nos offendunt”: Erasmus’s addition to Plutarch. 15. give Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. 16. study . . . know study . . . to know “studium . . . cognoscendi” (desire / pursuit of knowledge). other’ other’s (unmarked genitive); “mala aliena.” Windebank reads “others.” 17. void . . . is void of “wants” (Windebank). pure from “purus . . . ab.” wicked is “wickednis” (Windebank). 18. Why . . . see? This is the only instance where Elizabeth indents a quotation (from an unknown Greek comedy) not indented and italicized in Estienne’s edition. not . . . see? Windebank’s “in thyne owne blynde” mars the meter. 19. science’ study desire of knowledge; “cognoscendi studium.” 20. busy care Elizabeth’s rendering of “curiositam” here and in lines 53, 156, and 280. Compare “curious care” for “curiositas” in lines 27 and 380.

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And if thou hast a mynd fancy haue to enter Storyes yVels thou hast Ynough at home that ydel thou ne be As great a stream as Waters floud doth bring to yL bay Or Circled Oke by faWLing Lefues from tre So great a store of thy faultes in thy Life th shalt find A hepe eake of yL desiars fraught in thy mynd [40] No Les negLect of that thou shuldz by office yeld for as as the writ of Senoϕon4 Writes telz the ordar that how good frugaL men do part aside such Laid Vp stuf as Sacrifice nides and do deuide from banquetz cost in sort that some do Serue the pLoWshares turne in other place the the war AEuen so do thou deuide thy iVels part that enuy bridz A part for let JeLosy haue some ^ for CoWardz frute do Leue for sparing some d reserue all the do Count and KnoW Suche WindoWes as to nighbors hous Geues the VeWe And Curius foote steps make a aWay to nideLes stopd to put out but other Wayes Open thou mayst must truly fit and Sound [50] Suche as to Seruantz romes the bring to sheW within thy house the bring Somtime into thy Womens Closetz and Wher thy Slaues abide Thes be suche thing as asxing study and busy care do nide Wher ne Yet profitLes busines b nor Wicked Work hath rome but ful of WeLth and holesum Councel gives the Whan eache man telz him self this taLe and thes accompt

4. Senoφon Xenophon. 21. story’s evils history’s misfortunes; “malorum historiam” (the history of misfortunes). 22. As . . . tree As she does throughout with two exceptions (see lines 374 and 477 and nn.), Elizabeth follows Estienne’s edition in specially indenting verse quotations. Her translation also follows the wording of this quotation in Estienne: “Quanta Isthmum circum defertur copia aquarum, / Aut quercum circum quantum stratum est foliorum” (As much abundance of water as flows down around the Isthmus, / Or as many leaves as are strewn around the oak). 23. faults Elizabeth’s spelling, “faultes,” suggests disyllabic pronunciation. 24. of . . . desires “malarumque cupiditatum.” Plutarch, by contrast, reads “παθῶν” (of passions 515E). 25. No . . . yield No . . . neglect “nec minus negligentiae.” Erasmus’s “nec minus” has no counterpart in Plutarch. neglect . . . yield neglect of what you should do as your duty. shouldst should (Windebank). by office out of duty; “officii” (of duty).

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And if thou fancy have, to enter story’s evils,21 Thou hast enough at home, that idle thou not be. “As great a stream as water’s flood doth bring to bay, Or circled oak, by falling leaves from tree.”22 So great a store of faults23 in thy life shalt find, A heap, eke, of ill desires24 fraught in thy mind; 40 No less neglect of that, thou shouldst by office yield.25 For as the writ of Xenophon26 tells, the order how good, frugal men Do part aside such laid-up stuff as sacrifice needs, And do divide from banquets’ cost, in sort that some Do serve the plowshare’s turn; in other place, the war. Ev’n so, do thou divide thy evils: part that envy breeds; A part let jealousy have; some for cowards’ fruit do leave; For sparing, some reserve. All they27 do count and know. Such windows as to neighbors’ house gives the view, And curious footsteps make a way to put out.28 But other ways op’n thou must, truly fit and sound: 50 Such as to servants’ rooms within thy house they bring, Sometime into thy women’s closets, and where thy slaves abide. These be such thing as asking-study29 and busy care do need: Where not yet profitless business30 nor wicked work hath room, But full of wealth; and wholesome counsel31 gives thee, When each man tells himself this tale, and these32 account:

26. Xenophon (431–ca. 350 B.C.E.) Athenian moralist, historian, and political thinker. Plutarch refers to his treatise on estate management, Oeconomicus 8.19–20. 27. they “these” (Windebank). 28. put out put an end to, do away with (imperative); “obturato” (stop up, close). Windebank’s “to patent,” which probably means ‘too open to view,’ looks like a context-based guess that eliminates Elizabeth’s main verb. 29. thing . . . asking-study thing “things” (Windebank). asking-study the pursuit of questioning, rendering “percontandi studium” with a cognate. 30. not . . . business “negocium nec inutile” (neither useless business). Windebank reads “neither proffitless deedes.” 31. full . . . counsel Expands “utile ac salutiferum” (useful and salutary). 32. these “this” (Windebank).

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Whens SLides I What don haue I What haue Vndon that don shuld not but noW a days as fables teL that Lamia at home doth bLinded sing her Yees She shutz in Vesselz Store til furthe she go thatn in her hed the go and Open bendz her Lookes [60] So eache man abrode and in others matters With hate Into his thoght a Curius regard into his hed as yee he putz In from faultz Our oWne and Wicked acts by ignoraunce by ignorance Led we sLip

On thes nor Rolling Yees nor Light of them receue The Curius man more profit yeldz his foe more profit yeldz his foes than good Vnto himself

that telleth them ther Lackz and Wher they do amis that bettar the may Ware the Warnid to correct negLectz at home the dedes that nide Wer to regard So stonied his then his Care for that most other touche Vlissis eke no Word Wold giue to mother his [70] v Why heL to the he went Til of the proϕet axed he had the ca se tha And after he he to dame he returned and Wemen then rather axed What Wenche Tiro Was Wher faire Cloris bid And What bred Cause for murthering Epicastes life Whan WofuL knot of Corde she A knitz to hiest beame but We ouer seaure and knoWing naugh that most our Vs touche

33. Whence . . . not? Line 42 of the pseudo-Pythagorean moral verses Carmina Aurea. Whence . . . I? Wherefore do I slip / lapse morally? Erasmus reads “Quo lapsus?” (whither have I slid / fallen into error?). In early modern editions, Plutarch, by contrast, reads “πῆ παρέβην” (How have I overstepped? 515F). that . . . not? “that vndon should bee?” (Windebank). 34. Lamia . . . sing Lamia A female monster in Greek mythology, who sucked children’s blood. sing “canere” (sing), the reading in Estienne’s and all other editions of Erasmus’s translation consulted except Cornario’s. 35. bends “sends” (Windebank). 36. others’ “other” (Windebank). 37. curious . . . into Elizabeth evidently wrote the correction “Care” as the final reading in Windebank’s fair copy, “Curious Care in,” recalling her translations of “curiositatem” as “curious care” in lines 27 and 380. [care] Elizabeth’s manuscript reads “regard.” 38. of “from” (Windebank). 39. unto Windebank omits, marring the sense. 40. them Windebank omits, marring the meter.

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“Whence slide I? What done have I, that done should not?”33 But now, as fables tell, Lamia at home doth, blinded, sing;34 Her eyes she shuts in vessel’s store till forth she go; 60 Then in her head they go, and, open, bends35 her looks: So each man abroad, in others’36 matters, with hate, Into his thought, a curious [care] into37 his head, as eye, he puts. From faults (our own) and wicked acts, by ignorance, we slip: On these, nor rolling eyes; nor light of 38 them receive. The curious, more profit yields his foes, than good unto39 himself: That telleth them40 their lacks, and where they do amiss, That better they may ware, the warnèd to correct; Neglects at home the deeds that need were to regard, So ’stonied is his care for that, most, other touch.41 Ulysses eke no word would give to mother his, 70 Till of the prophet asked he had, the cause: why to hell he went? And after, he to dame turned, and women, rather, asked: What wench Tyro was? where fair Chloris bid? And what bred cause for murd’ring Epicastes’ life, “When woeful knot of cord she knits to highest beam?”42 But we, o’er-sure,43 and knowing nought that, most, us touch,

41. ’stonied . . . touch ’stonied stupified; “stunnid” (possibly Windebank’s variant spelling). other other people. touch concern. 42. Ulysses . . . beam Plutarch alludes to Odysseus’s journey to the underworld in Odyssey 11.197–278, where he asks Tiresias (the “prophet”) how he came to Hades and inquires about the identities of the female shades who gather around him, including Tyro, who was seduced by Poseidon and bore Peleus, Achilles’ father; “beautiful” Chloris, mother of the Greek hero Nestor; and Epicaste (Jocasta), who killed herself after learning that she had married her son, Oedipus. Till . . . cause Windebank shortens to “Till Prophett askd hee had cause.” rather Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. where . . . bid “quae formosa Chloris” (who was beautiful Chloris?). bid dwelt (form of “bode”). murd’ring “reaving” (Windebank). “When . . . beam?” Odyssey 11.278. Elizabeth closely follows Erasmus’s “dum tristem laquei nodum trabe nectit ab alta” (when she tied the sad knot from the high noose). The line in Plutarch (516B), by contrast, lacks a “when” and contains an initial participle instead of a medial indicative verb. 43. o’er-sure “mire securi” (remarkably confident). Plutarch, by contrast, reads “ῥᾳθυμίᾳ” (with laziness 516B). Windebank reads “secure.”

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Inquires of others pLiues as Why Our neghbors Sire A Sirian Was and granddame Why a Thresian borne And Suche man Owes talentz thre nor Vsery hath paid Yea and somtime suche things discours Whens Came [80] home Suche a Wife Why he and he haue in a Cornar talkt togither but Socrates romed up and doWne With doute ful great What Wordz What Spiche Pitagoras vsed to brid beLefe And Aristippus to in Olimpias, meting Ischomachus axed Withhy Socrates in his disputes so Wyn could younge men Who Whan he picked had some sedes and samples of his Wordz So moued was he that skant he stedy cold his pas And GreW throughout bothe paLe and Lene untiL thirsty and inflamed to Athens he hoissed up his sailes And both the man his Wordz and ϕiL[s]oϕie5 he Lerned out [90] Whiche did contain in somme to all Conclude: in short That al men shuLd an audit make of aL ther ^ iueLs and So them bettar knoWe to make them shun the more An other sort ther is that broke can not a Lo Louke On Life ther oWne but demes hit as a yrcksome sheW Nor reasons Lustar beare the can reflections hers the Shun6 but ther mynd fillded alL With eache mans iueL al shaking dreadz What is dwels Within abrod hit goes and Gasith round about And others sins do Vew both nurs and and Cram thir Vice For as the the hen oft in the house Whan meat food is broght [100] Runs to a Cornar strait and ground doth skrape with claW

5. ϕiL[s]oϕie Elizabeth neglected to write the letter s in “ϕiL[s]oϕie,” i.e., “phil’sophy,” rendering Erasmus’s “philosophiam.” 6. Shun After canceling most of this verb, Elizabeth failed to provide a substitute. 44. others’ “other” (Windebank). 45. usury interest; “usuram.” 46. and . . . a Windebank omits “and” and “a,” marring the meter. 47. What . . . speech The pleonastic doublet replicates “dictis ac verbis” (with speeches and words) in Estienne’s edition. Erasmus’s original translation reads “suis dictis.” 48. Aristippus (ca. 435–366 B.C.E.) Older contemporary of Plato and disciple of Socrates, traditionally regarded as the founder of the Cyrenaic school of hedonism that held present pleasure to be the goal of all activity. 49. his . . . young his Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. young Elizabeth’s spelling, “younge,” suggests disyllabic pronunciation.

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Inquires of others’44 lives: as, why our neighbor’s sire A Syrian was? and granddame, why a Thracian born? And such man owes talents three, nor usury45 hath paid? Yea, and sometime such things discourse: Whence came home such 80 a46 wife? Why he and he have in a corner talked together? But Socrates roamed up and down, with doubt full great, What words, what speech47 Pythagoras used to breed belief. And Aristippus48 in Olympia, meeting Ischomachus, asked, Why Socrates, in his disputes, so win could, young 49 men? Who, when he pickèd had some50 seeds and samples of his words, So movèd was that scant he steady could his pace, And grew throughout both pale and lean until, Thirsty and inflamed, to Athens he hoist up sails;51 And both the man his words, and phil’sophy,52 he learned, 90 Which did contain in sum, to all conclude in short:53 That all men should an audit make of all their evils,54 And so them better know, to make them shun the more. Another sort there is, that brook cannot a look On life their own, but deems it as an irksome show; Nor reason’s luster bear they can; reflections hers they s[hun].55 But their56 mind fillèd—all, with each man’s evil—all shaking, dreads What dwells within; abroad it goes, and gazeth round about And others’57 sins do view, both nurse and cram their vice. For as the hen oft, in the house, when food is brought, 100 Runs to a corner straight, and ground doth scrape58 with claw,

50. some Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. 51. hoist . . . sails “hoysed sayle” (Windebank). 52. the . . . phil’sophy “man and words Philosophy eke” (Windebank). 53. Which . . . short Expands “cuius haec erat summa” (whose gist was this). 54. evils “ill” (Windebank) 55. Nor . . . s[hun] Nor “No” (Windebank). s[hun] Most of this word was deleted by Elizabeth in error; see n6 of our original-spelling text. Since Erasmus reads “non sustinent” (they cannot bear), we have restored “shun.” Windebank reads “shun.” 56. their Omitted by Windebank, making metrical expansion of “fillèd” unnecessary and shortening the line to twelve syllables. 57. others’ “other’ ” (Windebank). 58. doth scrape Windebank’s “scrapes” mars the meter.

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That someWher in the dounge on grain at lest may find So fareth hit With Curius sttrangars Vice Who passing ouer institutes Lessons and delated skaunted matter in Retorik gise And other matter cares such as no man griues is axed In hepes the throW the housis Secretz iuelz and hid Righ WeL applied is that the Ethiopien Egiptian said to him that axed What w hid Was that he had that made hit hid quoth he Nor ther is Was is hit the the façon to enter into others house without he knoke afor though now the portars add to for hammer of hammering and [110] rings did hange Vntouchst Without serVed for the yeare from him that enter wold Lest stranger might the husWife amid in her house surprise beting of her maid or chastening of her man Or shirLes7 might heare that maidens gave for Skourge The prijng man to alL this wiL sLiLy make him one Suche one as hedes not enter to behold a Chast and Wel ruLed hous No thogh an man in treating sort Wold caL him to that sight

7. shirLes Obsolete variant of “shrills.” 59. That . . . find A line from an otherwise unknown beast fable in verse. 60. curious . . . o’er curious strangers’ “curious sick mans” (Windebank). Erasmus reads “curiositatis” (of curiosity). passing o’er “praetermissis” (passed over). Windebank’s “passeth” mars both sense and meter. 61. Institutes . . . rhetoric-guise Renders part of an ablative absolute, “sermonibus institutis ac narrationibus” (formally established speeches and narratives). Institutes elements of instruction, cognate with “institutis,” which Elizabeth probably construed as the ablative plural of the noun “institutum” (teachings, precepts, doctrine) rather than of the participle “institutus” (established). matter . . . rhetoric-guise rhetorical matter, loosely rendering “narrationibus,” which in Roman rhetorical theory and practice refers to the part of a speech that sets out the case. See Quintilian Institutio oratoria 4.2.31. scanted A second rendering of “praetermissis” (passed over). Windebank’s “scanned” mars the sense. 62. cares . . . asked cares “cause” (Windebank). i[f] asked i.e., if he is asked; “si quis interroget” (if anybody should ask). i[f] Elizabeth wrote “is,” a manifest penslip. 63. In . . . throw Elizabeth’s metaphor is prompted by “colligunt” (they amass) in Estienne’s edition. Plutarch, by contrast, reads “ἐκλέγουσι” (they pick out; 516E), while Erasmus’s original translation reads “efferent” (they set out, they spread abroad). 64. that . . . him “quod Aegyptius respondit.” Windebank’s “the Egiptian saw,” i.e., ‘the Egyptian wise saying,’ deviates from Erasmus’s phrasing.

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“That somewhere in the dung one grain, at least, may find.”59 So fareth it with curious strangers’ vice, who, passing o’er60 Institutes, lessons and scanted matter in rhetoric-guise,61 And other cares, such as no man grieves, i[f] asked,62 In heaps they throw63 the house’s secret evils and hid: Right well applied is that, Egyptian said to him64 that asked, What hid was, that he had? “That made it hid,”65 quoth he. Nor is it the fashion66 to enter other’s house, without he knock afore, Though now they porters add; tofore, hammer and rings did 110 hang:67 On-touched without, served for the ear, from him that enter would,68 Lest stranger might the housewife in her house surprise, Beating of her maid, or chast’ning of her man; Or shrills might hear, that maidens gave, for scourge.69 The prying man to all this will slyly make him one: Such one as heeds not to behold a chaste and70 well-ruled house, No, though a man in ’treating71 sort would call him to that sight,

65. “That . . . hid” For that reason—i.e., so you wouldn’t know what it was—it was hid. Elizabeth sustains Erasmus’s pithiness: “Ideo . . obvelatum est” (For that reason it is hidden). 66. Nor . . . fashion “Non est mos.” Windebank’s “Nor hit the fashon was” deviates from Erasmus’s present tense. 67. tofore . . . hang tofore previously; “olim.” hammer . . . hang Windebank’s “hammars rings do hang” mars the sense and deviates from Erasmus’s past tense. hammer . . . rings “mallei circulive pensiles” (hammers or hanging rings)—i.e., door-knockers. 68. On-touched . . . would When struck outside, the hammer and rings announced that someone wished to enter. Erasmus reads “mallei circulive pensiles illisi foribus efficiebant, ut sentiretur ingredi volens” (the hammers or hanging circles struck against the doors made him, who wished to enter, be heard). On-touched . . . him Windebank’s garbled “Vntoucht without, servid the eare from him” attests to the line’s obscurity. without outside. Elizabeth evidently confused “foribus” (against the doors) with “foris” (outside). 69. shrills . . . scourge Expands “clamantes ancillas” (crying maidservants). for scourge for punishment, i.e., while being punished. 70. and Omitted by Windebank. The phrasing with “and” is closer to Erasmus’s “pudicae domus rectaeque constitutae.” 71. ’treating entreating, beseeching.

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but suche as kay requires a CLog or sparred dore VncouVer List and to the VuLgar sordt abrode hit must [120] Of alL the Wyndz the grive us most and trouble bride Ariston as he teLz Whos turne back the strawes bridz us anoy but Curius man no neghbors chaf nor clothes estimes But Wales he brekes and opens dores makes With the euen to Sily maids In sort euen suche as Wind that perceth in and enters rome Wher bacchus feasts, roundz and daunce he may behoLd Euen suche as in the night to dianes temple dedicate Wer With hedy yea espias What fauLtz he may find ther besides as Cleon sais Whom Comedie oLd did reprochVed His mynd in CLopis Was his handz in Etole was bid So mynd of Curius man atones in riche mans hous doth [130] maKe abode and in seLf time the Cotage poor doth haunt and Court of Kingz And at a Wedding Latly made to prie the businis of eache man both of the gestz that biddid be and of the Chifest alL And So as not of periL Void he Ventur makes therof

72. sparrèd fastened with a bar or bolt. 73. to . . . must A house’s private business must be told to the common people (so the busybody believes). Elizabeth expands with a cognate “effert in vulgus” (he spreads it abroad among the common people). 74. Ariston Either the third-century B.C.E. Stoic philosopher Ariston of Chios or the third-century B.C.E. Peripatetic (Aristotelian) philosopher Ariston of Ceos. 75. straws . . . chaff These nouns render Erasmus’s successive uses of “pallia” for Plutarch’s “περιβολάς” (garments) and “ἱμάτια” (outer garments 516F) in “qui nobis revellunt pallia” (that tear off our outer garments) and “pallia vicinorum” (neighbors’ outer garments). Elizabeth evidently confuses “pallia” (outer garment) with “palea” (straw, chaff ). In the first occurrence Elizabeth seems to envisage crops being blown by wind, in the second the neighbors’ metaphorical “chaff ” or “dirty laundry” being revealed. straws Elizabeth’s spelling, “strawes,” suggests disyllabic pronunciation. 76. silly helpless, defenseless. Erasmus’s “teneram” has a range of potential meanings, including ‘young, delicate, weak.’ Windebank’s “the silly” mars the meter. 77. ev’n Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. 78. Bacchus’ . . . dance “Bacchanalia, Choreas ac Pannychidas” (bacchanalian orgies, dances in the round, and all-night festivals). Erasmus’s first two terms, rendered fairly closely by Elizabeth, are standard Latin versions of Plutarch’s Greek terms. She does not translate the third, Erasmus’s transliteration of Plutarch’s Greek, which probably puzzled her.

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But such as key requires, a clog or sparrèd72 door, Uncover list; and, to the vulgar sort, abroad it must.73 “Of all the winds, they grieve us most, and trouble breed,” 120 Ariston74 tells, “whose turn-back-straws us annoy.” But curious man, no neighbor’s chaff 75 nor clothes esteems, But walls he breaks, and opens doors, even to silly76 maids, In sort ev’n77 such as wind that pierceth in, and enters room Where Bacchus’ feasts, rounds, and dance78 he may behold— Ev’n such as, in the night, to Dian’s temple dedicate79 were— With heedy eye espies, what faults he may find there. Besides, as Cleon says, whom Comedy Old reproved, “His mind in Clopis was, his hands in Etole bid,”80 So mind of curious man, at once, in rich man’s house doth make 130 abode;81 And, in self-time, the cottage poor doth haunt,82 and court of kings; And, at a wedding lately made, to pry the business of each man,83 Both of the guests that bidded84 be, and, of the chiefest, all; And, so, as not of peril void, he venture makes thereof,

79. Dian’s . . . dedicate Dian’s temple Elizabeth follows Erasmus’s addition to Plutarch’s bacchanalian revels: “quae noctu celebrantur Dianae” (that are celebrated at night in honor of Diana). While Diana’s association with chastity renders her incongruous in this scene, Erasmus presumably thought of her as the moon goddess. “Diana’s temple” may be Elizabeth’s metaphor for the moon. Dian’s Windebank’s “Dianas” mars the meter. dedicate “vowed” (Windebank). 80. Comedy . . . bid Comedy Old “vetus comoedia,” referring to the fifth-century B.C.E. Athenian political comedy written by Aristophanes and his contemporaries, as distinguished from the “new” Hellenistic comedy of private life. “Vetus” is Erasmus’s addition to Plutarch. “His . . . bid” Aristophanes Knights 79. The wordplay on two names that connect the fifth-century Athenian leader Cleon with beggars and thieves is lost in Renaissance translations. Elizabeth’s ordering of the line’s two halves follows Erasmus’s “in Clopidis mens erat, in Aetolis manus.” Plutarch has the two halves in inverse order. 81. doth . . . abode Windebank’s “abode makes” mars the meter. 82. in . . . haunt in self-time at the same time. doth haunt Windebank omits, shortening the line. 83. business . . . man Windebank’s “workes of men” is metrically smoother but further from Erasmus’s “omnium negocia” (business affairs of everyone). 84. bidded invited.

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but Like to him that henban tast With Curius fault that Gridy is to knoWe afor he fele is reued of his Life So Who so serche the p mightiars ylz first dy or8 ^ vnderstand for Who disdains to Looke on Shun beames Large and Wide and nides WiL star on bodies Sun hitseLfe too boLd that striue [140] The Light from him to turne ar blinded starke for hire rightly Sayd ΦiLippides the poete to Lisimachus king Who axed What of myne shaL I I the imparte as of my gift to the What so thou Wylt quoth he so secret none thou giue For What so Kingdome hath of pleasur and of Joy OutWard set furthe be ban feastz banquets riches solemne ^ liberaL sheWes but if hid aught ther be nor hit assist ne Ons hit touche Nor Couerd be a kingly Joy Whan prosperous hap arriVes Nor scorne made at his sportz nor Whom hite Grace grace with With kindly of gifts What hidden is fearful woful Sower and unknoWen [150] the tresor of an OuerfloWing and Ire Wasting Ire Or rather habat deape in mynde to rolLe reVenge Or ZeLoZie of Wife, oR Sons suspect Or dout of frind Fly thou this darke and thikky mysty folded Cloude

8. or obsolete spelling of “ere” (before, prior to). 85. henbane . . . fault henbane a poisonous plant; “aconitum” (aconite, a poison). with . . . fault “curiositatis vitio” (with the fault of curiosity). Plutarch reads simply “πολυπραγμονῶν” (being curious 517A). 86. feel . . . his feel “sentiat.” Misread by Windebank as “feede.” his Omitted by Windebank, making metrical expansion of “reavèd” unnecessary and shortening the line to fourteen syllables. 87. ills “yl” (Windebank). Erasmus has plural “mala.” 88. too . . . hire The . . . turn Elizabeth struggles to render Erasmus’s obscure “ac lucem in semet averti cogunt audaces” (and, bold men, they force the light to be diverted toward themselves). for hire as their reward—Elizabeth’s ironic addition. that strive Windebank’s “to vew” alters the sense. 89. Philippides . . . asked Philippides . . . poet A fourth-century B.C.E. writer of New Comedy, whose patron was Lysimachus, king of Thrace. the Omitted by Windebank. who asked Windebank’s “king axing” mars the meter. 90. solemn . . . shows “solennes conventus, munificentiae” (solemn assemblies, bounties). liberal generous, evoking “munificientiae.” Omitted by Windebank, presumably to regularize the meter.

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But like to him that henbane taste, with curious fault,85 That greedy is to know, afore he feel, is ’reavèd of his86 life: So whoso search the mightier’s ills,87 first die ere understand. For, who disdains to look on sunbeams large and wide, And needs will stare on body’s sun itself, too bold, that strive 140 The light from him to turn, are blinded stark, for hire.88 Rightly said Philippides the poet to Lysimachus, who asked,89 “What, of mine, shall I impart, as of my gift to thee?” “Whatso thou wilt,” quoth he, “so, secret none, thou give.” For whatso kingdom hath, of pleasure and of joy, Outward set forth be—banquets, riches, solemn, liberal shows— 90 But if hid aught there be, nor it assist,91 nor once it touch. Nor covered be a kingly joy when prosperous hap arrives: Nor scorn made at his sports, nor whom he grace with kindly gifts.92 What hidd’n is, fearful, woeful, sour, and unknown, The treasure of an overflowing, wasting ire, 150 93 Or rather, habit deep in mind, to roll revenge, Or jealousy of wife, or son’s suspect,94 or doubt of friend: Fly thou this dark and thicky, misty-folded cloud;

91. nor . . . assist neither attend it; “ne adeas” (do not approach). 92. Nor covered . . . gifts scorn . . . gifts Elizabeth’s awkward formulation is indicative rather than imperative: “Nor is a kingly joy concealed . . . Nor is the scorn made at his sports concealed, nor is concealed the one whom he graces.” Erasmus’s verb is the indicative “celatur” (is concealed). covered concealed. scorn . . . sports “risus ludentis” (laughter at his play). Elizabeth seems to subscribe to a common classical and Renaissance view that laughter was primarily scornful in nature. grace . . . gifts “humanitate seu beneficio prosequi” (to furnish someone with kindness or favor). Windebank’s “nor whom he kingly graced, deride” misreads “kindly” (“humanitate”) as “kingly,” adds “deride,” a verb without an analogue in Erasmus, and encourages the misconstrual of “Nor scorn make, . . . nor . . . deride” as monitory imperatives regarding what is not to be done. 93. habit . . . revenge “ultionis profunda in animo versatio” (the deep revolving of revenge within the mind). roll meditate upon, capturing the literal and figurative resonances of “versatio” (revolving). 94. son’s suspect suspicion of a son.

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A flasche and thoundar shaLt burst out Whan hidden sheWes What Way therfor for fligt or shunning of the same If strait thou do as sad said of of yore and to Leaue Spare thy busy care but best of of aL of if mynde thou turne to that9 to best helps Whiche and d pleases and delights O busy man cherche out What our out the heauen the erthe, air and Sea afourdz Wither doth LDelite the most the SmaL or great to VeWe KnoWs If great than Care Whens son arise and whtherher she doth couche [160] Aske why the mone at times as man doth so changeth she Whence so great Light she tooke and Whens she Lost repaires Whan Left she hathe us semed hoW may hit be that strait her neW face faire to Vs aperes SLiLy to the Circles fuL increasing makes Again Whan beauty hers hath Shone unto the top Than Waning eldar groWes tiL none make be to be be she defend for thes thingz be natures secret worck inWard Workes nor dothe disdaine suche Science to the Lerned folk but great thinges thou dost despice and dost not reke for them [170] be Curius than for things of Les regarde Axke thou than of that Wiche erthe brings furth Why some do florisshe ^ stiL and grine remaine In euery season grine the be as she she that boststh himherself

9. to that Elizabeth’s mistaken deletion leaves the sense incomplete. See n97 of our modern-spelling version. 95. or . . . same Elizabeth’s pleonistic addition. 96. as . . . yore as said previously: “ut dixi” (as I have said). of Windebank’s “is” mars the sense. 97. turn . . . delights [to that] i.e. to that which. Elizabeth mistakenly deleted these words in her manuscript, which correspond to Erasmus’s “ad ea quae.” to . . . delights Clarifying the sense but marring the meter, Windebank reads “to helps and delytes.” 98. the Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. 99. Whether “Which” (Windebank). 100. doth couch “coucheth” (Windebank). 101. so . . . repairs so . . . she “she so great light” (Windebank). lost repairs restores light that has been lost. Estienne’s edition has the cognate “reparavit” (has restored).

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A flash and thunder shall burst out when hidden shows. What way, therefore, for flight, or shunning of the same?95 If straight thou do, as said of yore,96 to spare thy busy care; But, best of all, if mind thou turn, [to that] helps and delights.97 O busy man, search what the98 heav’n, earth, air, and sea affords. Whether99 doth delight thee most, the small or great to know: If great, then care whence sun arise, and where she doth couch,100 160 Ask why the moon at times, as man, so changeth she; Whence so great light she took, and whence she lost repairs.101 “When left she hath us seemed, how may it be That, straight, her new face fair, to us appears; Slyly, to the circle’s full, increasing makes; Again, when beauty hers hath shone unto the top, Then, waning, elder grows, till none be she?”102 For these things be Nature’s secret, inward works; Nor doth disdain such science to the learnèd folk.103 But great things thou despise, and dost not reck for them.104 170 Be curious, then, for things of less regard.105 Ask thou, then, of that106 which Earth brings forth, Why some do flourish still, and green remain; In every season, green they be, as she that boasts herself.107

102. “When . . . she?” These five lines are a fragment from a lost tragedy by Sophocles. how . . . / That Elizabeth renders as a question Erasmus’s “qui fiat, ut” (which happens so that). Slyly “sensim” (just perceptibly, slowly), Erasmus’s addition to Plutarch. elder grows “senectat.” Plutarch, by contrast, reads “διαρρεῖ” (dies away 517D). 103. folk “folks” (Windebank). 104. But . . . them But . . . despise Elizabeth follows Estienne in treating as a statement what is a question in all other Erasmus editions consulted except Cornario’s. and . . . them Elizabeth’s addition. reck care. 105. regard Windebank’s “regard and worth” expands the line to six feet. 106. that “things” (Windebank). 107. as . . . herself. Elizabeth makes Earth the proud self-displayer. Erasmus describes certain plants: “omnique tempore vernent opes suas ostentantia” ([why] in every season they should display their springlike wealth).

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some other sort in some What Like to thes the th sheW Some other region kind be bared Left and Lea Like husbandman that thrift neglects at ons that aL his goodz hathe spent ♠10 Than Why do diuers groundz brede frute of sondry sortz bothe Long, Couvertrnard halfe round and Rounded alL Perchance of this thou carest not muche for yL non is [180] If nides thou sekest in iVeLs an Curius Care IVen Serpant Like that fed and nourist be is in poisdoned Wood Let us suche curiVs man bringe to the stories study Stories regaread And gather ther suche stuf as doth include and teL A plenty great of aL mishaps aboundance of al iVeL for ther do Ly the ruine of men the Wast of Goodz the Wifes dishonor the sarvantz baitz the frinds sLandor The Venom prepared, enuies, ZeLosies Wrak of frindz The treasons huge of kings from kingdomes throWen FiL thou With thes thy Curius fondLy nice desiars [190] so pleasure take in thes that bride Can no Wo nor doLor to such folke as thou dost dWeL WithalL but as hit semes the Curius man Cares not for old iveLs passt And Not Suche as Wontid Wer but Sly and unfond harme he VeWes that WilLingLy may tragidies neW fonde out made behold

10. that . . . spent ♠ This line is the last on fol. 93r, which has in its bottom right corner a caret mark so heavily retraced that it resembles a tiny, pointed leaf. This emphatic caret evidently relates to the isolated line in Elizabeth’s hand that follows on fol. 93v: “for nether iust, honist, nor plesing wer suche sheWe.” Another emphatic caret keys the proper place of this line to precede line 389 below. This placement is confirmed by Erasmus’s text and by its positioning in Windebank’s copy. See our introduction, p. 387. 108. Some other kind . . . lea Some . . . kind Elizabeth misconstrues “rursus” (some other time). lea fallow, unplowed; “nuda mendicaque” (bare and poor). 109. curious “a curious” (Windebank). 110. nourished is “nurst” (Windebank). 111. stories histories. 112. waste . . . goods Plutarch quotes a phrase from Aeschylus Suppliant Maidens 937: “καὶ ἀπολακτισμοὶ βίων” (and the shuffling-off of lives 517E). Erasmus misconstrues “βίων” (of lives) as “of their livelihoods” and reads “profusiones facultatum” (prodigal waste of one’s goods). Elizabeth follows Erasmus. 113. baits food used to trap prey; figuratively, enticements. Estienne’s edition reads “insidiae” (traps, deceits), which can refer specifically to snares for trapping wild animals.

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Some other sort, in somewhat like to these, they show; Some other kind be barèd left, and lea,108 like husbandman That thrift neglects, at once that all his goods hath spent. Then, why do divers grounds breed fruit of sundry sorts: Both long, cornered, half-round, and rounded all? Perchance of this thou car’st not much, for ill none is. 180 If needs thou seek’st, in evils, curious109 care— Ev’n serpentlike, that fed and nourished is,110 in poisoned wood— Let us such curious man bring to stories111 read, And gather there such stuff as doth include and tell A plenty great, of all mishaps; abundance of all evil; For there do lie the ruin of men, the waste of goods,112 The wife’s dishonor, the servants’ baits,113 the friends’ slander; The venom prepared, envies, jealousies, wrack114 of friends; The treasons huge, of kings from kingdoms thrown.115 Fill thou, with these, thy curious, nice desires;116 190 117 Pleasure take in these, that breed can so no woe, Nor dolor to such folk, as thou dost dwell withal. But, as it seems, the curious man cares not for old evils past;118 Not such as wonted were, but sly and unfound harm he views,119 That willingly may tragedies new-made120 behold;

Except Cornario’s, all other Erasmus editions consulted read “incursiones” (assaults), an alternative rendering of Plutarch’s “ἐπιθέσεις” (517F). 114. wrack destruction, but also evoking the metaphor of shipwreck like Erasmus’s “naufragia.” 115. The . . . thrown Elizabeth expands Erasmus’s “eiectiones principum” (banishment of princes). 116. thy . . . desires Elizabeth’s addition. curious (over)inquisitive; difficult to please. nice difficult to please. 117. can Omitted by Windebank. 118. curious . . . past curious man “curiositas.” for . . . past Windebank’s “for passed euils” is further from Erasmus’s “perantiquis . . . malis.” Either wording fits the meter if “evils” is read monosyllabically as “ills.” 119. Not . . . view “et obsoletis malis, sed calidis ac recentibus” ([curiosity does not joy in very old] and worn-out misfortunes, but rather fresh and recent ones). such . . . were such as used to be; “obsoletis.” sly Elizabeth confuses “calidis” (hot, i.e., fresh) with “callidis” (clever, wily). unfound previously undiscovered; “recentibus.” he views Elizabeth’s addition, omitted by Windebank. 120. new-made Windebank’s “new” mars the meter.

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He rekes not for to feLoWe Comiche Caus nor mery matter Than if he mit With one that talk of mariage madkes Or sacrifice teLz or brides retourne hideles and Lasy the Curius man hit heares and teLs how oft that he hard And Wilz the telLar be brief in short or pas hit ouer [200] but if a Sittar by do teL a teL tales of a dishonestid maide Or Wife that WedLok brake or a CarteL sent, or brothers debat heare he sLipith not nor scuseth makes for make but for Laisur but Sekes for more mens tongz and Listens makes his eares HoW righLy said is this that easiLar iL than good to mortal men arriVes And rightly said is this of Curius natured maen. for as the boxing GLas the Worst from fLesche do draw So eares of nisey foLKes the Wor[s]t [sp]iche draweth out And to speake bettar for to say as Cities haue some suche gates by Wiche condemned men VnLucky and Void of the noys of multitude the great [210] by Wiche Condemned men to dy are oft ConVeied and throW Wiche the throW that fyltyhy is and foWL And naugh ther by them ther goes that pure or hoLy is So by the eares of Curius man naugh Good or faire doth pas but SLaughtar taLk in to ther eares hatve passage sure and ther abides Wiche taLes Wicked Cursed taLes them brings Euer chanting teares Within my house do dWeL

121. for . . . fellow for Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. fellow associate with. 122. return “de deductione” (of escorting). Elizabeth perhaps misread “de deductione” as “de reductione” (of returning). 123. be Omitted by Windebank, marring sense and meter. 124. cartel written challenge, libel; “litem” (lawsuit). 125. ’scuse[s] . . leisure ’scuse[s] Elizabeth’s penslip, “scuseth,” evidently confused Windebank, who substitutes the reading “senses.” leisure freedom to do something; here, to quit a tedious conversation. Elizabeth’s rendering is suggested by “neque causatur deesse otium” (nor does he speak of lacking leisure [to listen]), even though Elizabeth’s “leisure” to leave is the opposite of Erasmus’s “leisure” to stay. 126. “But . . . ears” A fragment of the Hellenistic poet Callimachus. 127. “That . . . arrives” A fragment from an unidentified Greek tragedy. to . . . men “in aures . . . mortalium” (to ears of mortal men). 128. boxing-glass cupping-glass, formerly used to suction blood. 129. ears . . . folks “curiosorum aureas” (ears of inquisitive men), rendering Plutarch’s “τὰ τῶν πολυπραγμόνων ὦτα” (the ears of busybodies 518B). Elizabeth evidently con-

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He recks not for to fellow121 comic cause, nor merry matter. Then, if he meet with one that talk of marriage makes, Or sacrifice tells, or bride’s return:122 heedless and lazy, The curious man it hears, and tells how oft that he heard; 200 And wills the teller be123 brief in short, or pass it o’er. But if a sitter-by do tell a tale of a dishonested maid, Or wife that wedlock brake, or cartel124 sent, or brothers’ debate, Here he sleepeth not, nor ’scuse[s] makes for leisure,125 “But seeks for more men’s tongues, and listen makes his ears.”126 How rightly said is this: “That easilier ill than good, to mortal men arrives.”127 And rightly said is this, of curious-natured men. For as the boxing-glass128 the worst from flesh do draw, So ears of nicey folks129 the wor[s]t [sp]eech130 draweth out. And, better for to say,131 as cities have some gates, 210 Unlucky, and void of noise of multitude, the great,132 By which condemnèd men to die are oft conveyed, And through which they throw, that filthy is and foul, And naught by them there goes, that pure or holy is. So by the ears of curious man nought good or fair doth pass; But slaughter-talk into their ears have passage sure, And there abides—which wicked, cursèd133 tales them brings; “E’er-chanting tears within my house do dwell.”134

strued “curiosus” not in its most contextually relevant sense, ‘(over)inquisitive,’ but in the sense of ‘difficult to please,’ akin to the now obsolete sense of “curious” found in line 190. Lines 223 and 245 also render forms of “curiosus” with “nice” or “nicey.” 130. wor[s]t [sp]eech Only the top half of the bracketed letters in these two words is visible, due to a torn-away portion of the manuscript. We restore three partly missing letters by means of the adjacent ones that remain intact, and Erasmus’s reading, “deterrimos . . . sermones” (worst talk). Windebank reads “worst speech.” 131. better . . . say “ut melius dicam” (as I might say better, i.e., more properly); Plutarch reads simply “μᾶλλον” (rather 518B). 132. and . . . great and Omitted by Windebank. void . . . great without sound from either the common people or the eminent, i.e., deserted. Erasmus reads “sinistri . . . ominis” (of sinister omen). 133. cursèd “expiandas” (requiring purification, atonement, i.e., cursed). Windebank omits, presumably to shorten the line. 134. “E’er-chanting . . . dwell.” A fragment from an unidentified Greek comedy.

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This is the Curius muse ^ for Curius man and Siren his aLone Nor ought than this may Joy them best or please for Curius folkes haue gridy WyL to serche for ^ heare that secret is and hid [220] No suche Opens Yea to aught that tha if good the haue at aL And some WhiL the do do faine suche good as ther is none at aL And to so the onisy man that gridy is to knoW the IVeL Is subiect to disiase that Joyes at others harmes the bretherne ^ true of spite and cur enuious folkes For envy SoroWe is for good to that others Joys A gladsomnis of iVeL the Joy conciued of others Wicked actz And bothe procides of maLice humour beastLike and mad but yrksome So vnto each man the Opening is of ^ his iveLs That many chuse to dy befor his Secret disease the doctor know [230] What if HeroϕiLus Erasistratus or Esculapius thogh men the wer Carying the Cures instruments if if standing Without dore Wher axed Wether Wiche fistula in the thigh suche man hathe had

135. Siren . . . alone his only Siren; “Siren unica.” These mythological females enticed sailors to their deaths with their songs. Windebank reads “of Curious men and Siren alone”; the omission of “his” mars both sense and meter. 136. them Windebank’s “him” makes for consistency with Elizabeth’s antecedent “curious man”; Erasmus has plurals in both cases: “curiosis” and “istis.” 137. [curiosity hath] Elizabeth’s manuscript reads “Curius folkes haue.” Windebank’s “curiosity hath” is closer to “curiositas est” (curiosity is) and is probably a correction originating with Elizabeth. 138. No . . . all “Nullus autem occulit, si quid habet boni” (For nobody hides it if they have something good). The implication is that hidden things are by definition bad. Elizabeth takes the point to be one made earlier, that the curious are interested only in the bad. No such nobody of such a kind; “nullus.” Windebank’s “Nor” regularizes the meter but is further from the Latin. 139. And . . . none They sometimes pretend good to be present where there is none. Erasmus, following Plutarch, makes a point about people in general, which Elizabeth applies to the “curious.” 140. that . . . is Windebank omits “that” and “is.” 141. [brother] Elizabeth’s manuscript reads “brethren.” She may have initially mistaken dative singular “fratri” (brother) for a nominative plural. Windebank’s reading “brother” appears to be Elizabeth’s revision. 142. gladsomeness . . . acts gladsomeness . . . evil A literal rendering of “epichaerecacia,” the term in both Plutarch and Erasmus for rejoicing at the misfortune of others. glad-

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This is the Muse for curious man, and Siren his, alone;135 Nor aught than this, may joy them136 best, or please. For [curiosity hath]137 greedy will to hear, that secret is, and hid: 220 No such op’ns eye to aught, if good they have at all;138 And somewhile they do feign, such good as there is none.139 And, so, the nicey man, that greedy is140 to know the evil, Is subject to disease that joys at others’ harms— The [brother]141 true, of spite, and envious folks; For envy sorrow is, for good that others joys; A gladsomeness of evil, the joy conceived of others’ wicked acts.142 And both proceeds of malice’ humor,143 beastlike and mad. But irksome, so, unto each144 man the op’ning of his evils, That many choose to die before his secret disease145 the doctor know. 230 What if Hierophilus, Erasistratus, or Aesculapius, though men they were,146 Carrying the cures’ instruments,147 if, standing without door, Were asked [if] fistula in the thigh148 such man hath had,

someness Windebank’s “gladness” mars the meter. of others’ . . . acts “ex alienis malis” (of others’ misfortunes); “malis” in this context means ‘misfortunes’ but can mean ‘evil actions.’ Windebank’s “of wicked acts” mars the sense by omitting “others.” 143. proceeds . . . humor proceeds “proceed” (Windebank). of . . . humor from a temperament of malice, from malicious temperament; “ex affectu . . . maliciae.” humor Windebank’s “vice” regularizes the meter but is further from the Latin sense. 144. unto each Windebank reads “to,” shortening the line to six feet. 145. before . . . disease “citius quam . . . aliquid secretorum morborum” (sooner than any of his secret diseases). Windebank’s “than hid disease” (i.e., rather than hidden disease) smoothes the meter but is further from the Latin. 146. Hierophilus . . . were Hierophilus . . . Aesculapius Hierophilus and Eristratus were physicians of the third century B.C.E. Aesculapius was the mythical son of Apollo who was deified as the god of medicine after his death. men . . . were Following Plutarch, Erasmus writes of Aesculapius’s accomplishments “cum esset homo” (while he was still a man). Elizabeth makes the point that all three physicians were mere mortals. they were Omitted by Windebank, presumably to shorten the line. 147. instruments “instrumenta.” Windebank’s “helpes” regularizes the meter but is further from the Latin. 148. [if] . . . thigh if Elizabeth’s manuscript reads “Wiche”; Erasmus reads “num” (whether). We adopt Windebank’s “if,” which may well be Elizabeth’s revision. fistula . . . thigh Elizabeth employs a cognate and a euphemism for “fistula iuxta posticum” (a fistula

414

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Or Wether a Wife a Cancer hathe ins secret hiden Place ALbeit thate heltheful Care be nidfuL of suche art Yet no man ere, I beLeiue, but Cast of WoLd suche on as hit Wold axe Whom non unLouked for nid uncaLd Wold sike Out others harme The busy man sikes out aL these and many Wors And that With no mynd to Cure but CLattar out the same Wherfor no nikname the shaL haue giue that names the ^ enVious folk [240] for serchers We disdain and hardLy brooke We can Not whan the find that openly is broght that to Vewars of alL but suche as hiden be in Vesselz and in Packz And yet the Law hit dbidz and for negLect shold smarted in other sort the nice maen Lose ther oWne to for others serche Nor dWeL the chuse in Country soiLe for quiet fildz no care but yet if after Longed time the to the Contry Goe The rather Vewe ther neighbors fild than and pas muche ther oWne and axis hoW many Oxen he hathe Lost in numbar alL And hoW muche SoWered Wine he Cast aWay With Los [250] And furnist this he quicKLy to the Citie he retournes

near the rear), itself a euphemistic version of Plutarch’s “σύριγγα παρὰ δακτύλιον” (fistula in the anus 518D). Windebank reads “fistula in thigh,” smoothing the meter. 149. cancer . . . place Elizabeth employs another cognate and a euphemism for “cancrum in membro pudendo” (a cancer in her private member, i.e., genitals). Plutarch writes of a cancer in the uterus. Windebank omits Elizabeth’s “whether” and “hidden,” reducing the line from seven to five feet. 150. Albeit . . . art Although the health-bringing “care” (care, concern, attention) of such medical skill is necessary; “quanquam huius artis curiositas salutifera est” (although the curiosity of this skill is health-bringing). Elizabeth’s rendering of “curiostias” as “care” obscures the point. the “this” (Windebank). 151. Yet . . . harm Multiple negatives, ellipses, and unusual word order make these lines difficult, but the general sense, following Erasmus and Plutarch, is that everyone would reject a doctor who investigated others’ ills although he was not called for by any expected necessity (“non expectata necessitate invocatus”). harm pain, affliction. Whom . . . need Windebank’s “Whome for no neede,” omits Elizabeth’s rendering of “non expectata.” 152. That . . . out That Windebank reads “And.” clatter out blab.

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Or whether a wife a cancer hath in secret, hidden place?149 Albeit the healthful care be needful, of such art,150 Yet no man, I believe, but cast off would, such one as it would ask, Whom none, unlooked-for need, uncalled, would seek out others’ harm.151 The busy man seeks out all these, and many worse, That, with no mind to cure, but clatter out152 the same: Wherefore no nickname they shall give, that names the envious 240 folk.153 For searchers154 we disdain, and hardly brook we can, Not when they find that, openly, is brought to view of all,155 But such as hidden be, in vessels and in packs, And yet, the law it bids; and, for neglect, should smart.156 In other sort, the nice men lose their own, for others’ search:157 Nor dwell they choose in country soil158 (for quiet fields, no care), But yet, if after longèd159 time, they to the country go, They rather view their neighbors’ field,160 and pass their own, And asks how many161 oxen he hath lost, in number, all? And how much sourèd wine he cast away, with loss? 250 And, furnished this, he quickly to the162 city returns.

153. nickname . . . folk nickname incorrect name, misnomer. names . . . folk Windebank’s “name them envious men” revises phrasing characteristic of Elizabeth. 154. searchers Probably a context-based guess at the meaning of Estienne’s “telonis” (i.e., “telones”). The Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) defines the rare, postclassical “telon” as “a collectour or gatherer of tributes or tolles.” 155. openly . . . all Windebank’s “open is to vew of all” reduces the line from seven to six feet. 156. should smart The subject of this verb is “searchers” or money-gathering officials. Erasmus reads “damno afficiuntur” (they suffer finanical loss). 157. their . . . search their own what is theirs. for others’ search because they are inquiring what others have. their own Windebank’s “theirs” mars the meter. 158. soil Omitted by Windebank, marring the meter. 159. yet . . . longèd yet . . . after Windebank’s condensation “if in” deviates from Erasmus’s “Quod si . . . post” (But if . . . after). longèd prolonged; “longum.” 160. field “vineas” (vines); “fields” (Windebank). 161. how many “quotiens.” Windebank’s “what” regularizes the meter. 162. this . . . the this “thus” (Windebank). the Omitted by Windebank.

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but a he that is a ^ ploWman right husbanman receue ful fuL sLoWly WyL suche neWes that as of fre WyL his from the Citie br spred abrod And sais, than Wyl faL out my diggar shaL teL me tales On What barganes Strifes haue ther ende in plea for at this houre eVen noW CuriVs of suche mattir this Wicked Wreche doth Walke

but busy man the Coun CLouny life doth hate as empty cold That nurs no tragiche ^ part Woful, nor Wicked Cause but go the WyL to Jugis seates to markets and to ^ portz Vsing this Vois haue you no niWes to day Wer ye in fair [260] What than do you beleue the Cities reuoLt in thre hours ^ time And if suche tale he hathe from his horse he Lights taking handz imbrasis the man and herkening listening sits him by If met he do a man that teL can naugh What sais thou Whaert thou in pleading place didst thou not pas the haL Nor hast not faLn in passangers suche as Lat from Italye Came: praised be therfor the Locrens laW Who did forbid

163. But . . . slowly But . . . full Windebank’s condensation, “But plowman true receaue,” shortens the line by five syllables but mars the meter. slowly remissly; “nec . . . libenter” (nor . . . willingly). 164. free will “sua sponte” (of its own accord, automatically). 165. shall tell “dicet.” Windebank’s “tells” regularizes the meter but is further from the Latin. 166. On . . . plea what agreements in legal disputes have been concluded in court; “quibus conditionibus compositae lites sint?” The quotation is a fragment from ancient verse comedy but not identified as verse by Erasmus. bargains agreements (here, legal compacts). have . . . plea Windebank’s “haue ended all their plea” regularizes the meter but alters the sense. 167. matter Windebank’s “cause” regularizes the meter. 168. clowny . . . empty clowny countryman’s, peasant’s; Windebank reads “Clownes.” doth . . . empty “fugiunt . . . uti rem quampiam inanem” (shuns as something empty). Plutarch’s adjective, by contrast, is “ἕωλόν” (stale 519A). Windebank’s “hates so empty” mars the meter and is further from the Latin sense. 169. woeful . . . cause Elizabeth’s expansion. 170. judges’ seats “tribunalia”; the Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) defines “tribunal” as “the place where a judge sitteth in judgment.” seats “seat” (Windebank).

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But he that is a plowman right, receive full slowly163 will such news, As of free will164 is from the city spread abroad; And says, “Then will fall out: my digger shall tell165 me tales, On what bargains, strifes have their end in plea;166 For ev’n now, curious of such matter,167 this wicked wretch doth walk.” But busy man the clowny life doth hate, as empty,168 cold, That nurse no tragic part, woeful nor wicked cause;169 But go they will to judges’ seats,170 to markets, and to ports, Using this voice:171 “Have you no news today?” “Were ye in fair?” 260 “What, then, do you believe—the city’s revolt in three hours’ time?”172 And if such tale he hath, from his horse he ’lights: Taking hands, embraces173 the man; list’ning, sits him by. If meet he do a man that tell can naught:174 “What sayest thou?” “Wert thou in pleading place?” “Didst thou not pass the hall?”175 “Nor hast not fall’n in passengers, such as late176 from Italy came?” Praised be, therefore, the Locrians’ law, who did forbid177

171. Using . . . voice Elizabeth’s addition. this voice “speech such” (Windebank). 172. What . . . time Windebank’s “What doe you beleue Cities reuolt in howers three” regularizes the meter. 173. embraces Windebank’s “embrace” regularizes the meter at the cost of subject-verb agreement. 174. tell . . . naught Windebank’s “that naught tells” roughens the meter. 175. pleading . . . hall pleading place law court; “foro.” “Forum” can mean ‘law court’ but here, as a rendering of Plutarch’s “ἀγορὰν” (519A), means “public marketplace.” Didst . . . hall Estienne’s edition reads “Non praeteristi praetorium?” (Did you not pass the praetorium?). “Praetorium,” rendering Plutarch’s “στρατήγιον” (519B), here denotes a ‘general’s headquarters,’ but Elizabeth’s use of a now obsolete sense of “hall” renders the Latin term’s more general sense of a ‘palace.’ 176. hast . . . late hast . . . in have you fallen in with? A word-for-word, unidiomatic rendering of “incidisti in” (have you happened upon?). not “thou” (Windebank). passengers . . . late Windebank’s “posts that lately” smoothes the meter. 177. Locrians’ . . . forbid The oligarchic Dorian Locrians, who settled in southern Italy, devised Europe’s earliest written legal code in the seventh century B.C.E., famous for its detailed rigor and copied by other ancient city-states. did forbid Windebank’s “forbids” mars the meter.

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A question ons at his retourne [if asked] if any neWes and punist Was in [penal sort for such a fact]. for as to Coukes WeL fuL WeLcome is the numbar great of shepe [270] and to fisshar eke spaum fuL thik of fische kind So Curius men Wische plenty of iVeL and busines muche neW and strange euent Wiche euer the hunt and kiL Yea hideLy doth the Thurian LaWes that charge no Citizens chek in Comedie be Vsed but to the wauering and wandring or Curius men for aduLtry desiar of other pleasurs inquiry and serch make Of matter suche as hid is scars hardly but to be knoWen for Curiositie is a plalssy is and consumption eke that shews that What Couert shuld Wiche maKes the chatting Vice to foLow Care of knoWing muche And so can not be shuned but sLandar feLoWes the busy Care [280] Wiche made Pithagoras tetche fiue yeres SiLence to young men Wiche Cal he did Ἐχεμυθια the Suafer thing that Silence doth expres

178. once . . . [if asked] once Probably a penslip for “one,” rendering Erasmus’s “quis” (someone). [if asked] A portion of this line has been torn away in the manuscript (fol. 95r). Our restoration is based on Erasmus’s “si quis peregre reverset rogasset” (if someone returned from abroad had asked); “if asked” would be an ellipsis of “if he asked.” Windebank’s “bee axed of ” lacks Erasmus’s “if ” and makes the returner the one questioned rather than, as in Erasmus, the questioner. 179. [penal . . . fact] The tear also affected a portion of this line. We adopt Windebank’s “in penall sort for such a fact” as a possible pleonastic rendering of Erasmus’s “eum multa afficiebat” (it—the law—visited him with much, i.e., punishment). 180. full . . . sheep full . . . number Windebank’s “welcome is the store” mars the meter. of sheep “pecudum” (of farm animals). 181. spawn Elizabeth may have envisaged disyllabic pronunciation, but Windebank’s “the spawn” more clearly regularizes the meter. 182. New . . . event “novitatesque et rerum mutationes.” Windebank reads “New strange events,” where the plural is closer to Erasmus but the omitted “and” is further. 183. heedly . . . check heedly heedfully, with (proper) attention; “recte” (rightly). Thurian laws Thurii was a Greek city in southern Italy; Charondas was its legendary lawgiver. check rebuke. heedly . . . check Windebank’s “wel doo Thurian lawes forbid a Citizens check” regularizes the meter. 184. but . . . make Erasmus reads “praeterquam adulteros et curiosos. Siquidem videtur et adulterium esse curiositas alienae voluptatis inquisitioque ac perscrutatio” (except

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A question, once, at his return [if asked]178 if any news; And punished was in [penal sort for such a fact].179 For, as to cooks, full welcome is the number great of sheep;180 270 To fisher, eke, spawn181 full thick, of fishy kind; So curious men wish plenty of evil, and business much, New and strange event182—which e’er they hunt and kill. Yea, heedly do the Thurian laws, that charge no citizens’ check183 In comedy be used, but to the wandering or curious men: For adultery, desire of other’ pleasures, inquiry and search make184 Of matter such as hid is, hardly to be known. For curiosity a palsy is, consumption eke that shows what covert should,185 Which makes the chatting Vice to follow186 care of knowing much. And, so, cannot be shunned, but slander fellows the busy care.187 280 Which made Pythagoras teach five years’ silence to young men, Which call he did “ἐχεμυθια,” the safer thing, that silence doth express.188

for adulterers and curious men. For it seems that adultery also is a kind of curiosity about other people’s pleasure, and an inquiry and investigation). Windebank has a very different version of this line and a half: “but for adultor or curious men, / For that desire of others delight inquiry makes.” He seems to have mistaken Elizabeth’s revisions in the second half of line 275 as deletions and wrongly jumped in his copying from “but” midway in line 275 to “for adultery” at the beginning of line 276. His second line is much further from the Latin. wandering A euphemistic rendering of “adulteros” (adulterers). adultery . . . make Adultery, a desire of others’ pleasures, causes investigation. desire “curiositas.” Elizabeth’s rendering obscures the point that adultery is a subspecies of Plutarch’s general topic, curiosity. 185. For . . . should For, that shows Omitted by Windebank. should Windebank’s “is disclose” obscures the sense, while his combined condensations and addition shorten the line by only one foot. 186. chatting . . . follow chatting Vice “garrulitatis vitium.” Erasmus expands Plutarch’s “πολυλογίαν” (loquacity 519C). to follow “fellow” (Windebank). 187. And . . . care Elizabeth’s addition. “Follow” in line 279 renders “comitetur” (accompanies), derived from “comes” (companion, friend); here Elizabeth varies her verbs with a closer equivalent of “comitetur.” Windebank reads “And so shun cannot but slaunder accompanies busy care.” 188. Pythagoras . . . express Pythagoras This call for silence is reported in Iamblichus’s Life of Pythagoras 6.32. Which . . . ἐχεμυθια Windebank’s “Which called Echemythia

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Plutarch’s De curiositate

Yea hit Can not be that but Wicked tong doth Curiosite fiere for What the gladLy heare the WillingLy readely teL And what with hide from some gather the get to tel others teL the delite Wherfor this disease besides more Iuels brings this to bote that Let hit dothe to haue that most the seke to get for aL men hedes them WeL and hides them from suche feloship Nor WyL do aught ^ or say in Curius sight or Eare [290] but CounsieL defers and busines Care for other time appointz VntiL suche man away can him get from Companie thers And if perchance a busy man Comme in While wher Secret talk Or earnest aught be don no nother Wise than as the Cat In running hides his meat so sKandtzding from hand that ready was So that oft that other here or Se may to suche Nor W VeWe nor eare may Serue ther turnes In fine a Curius man Lacks all Confidence or trust for strangers Wordz or SLaues for thr rather to SLaues and Strangers brust charge our Lettars we Commit

was” departs from Elizabeth’s closeness to the Latin “quod ille vocabat.” ἐχεμυθια Elizabeth puts back into Greek letters and nominative case Erasmus’s transliteration in the accusative case of Plutarch’s term for “silence, reserve”: “ἐχεμυθίαν” (519C), “echemythiam.” Elizabeth here omits the word accent, as she does whenever she uses Greek lettering in this translation. the . . . thing Elizabeth’s above-the-line addition to Erasmus, omitted by Windebank. that . . . express that denotes ‘silence.’ Elizabeth’s gloss is based on Erasmus’s addition to Plutarch explaining that the Greek term derives etymologically “a continendo sermone” (from holding back speech). 189. it . . . fere it . . . but Elizabeth replicates Erasmus’s convoluted “non potest, ut . . . non”; Plutarch has a straightforward affirmation. Windebank’s “no choyce but” eliminates her closeness to the Latin. doth . . . fere accompanies; “comitetur” (accompanies). Windebank reads “curiosity feeres.” 190. gladly, willingly, readily The three adverbs render Erasmus’s twice-used “libenter” (willingly, gladly). readily Windebank’s “quickly” regularizes the meter but diverges from the Latin sense. 191. with heed “studiose” (carefully). Omitted by Windebank, thus reducing the line from seven to six feet but diverging from the Latin sense. 192. this, this “hic,” “illud.” Windebank omits these pronouns, regularizing the meter but diverging from the Latin sense.

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Yea, it cannot be, but wicked tongue doth curiosity fere;189 For what they gladly hear, they willingly, readily 190 tell, And what with heed191 from some they get, to others tell, delight. Wherefore this disease, besides more evils, brings this192 to boot: That let it doth to have, that most they seek to get.193 For all men heeds them well, and hides them from such fellowship,194 Nor will do aught, or say, in curious’ sight or ear; But counsel defers, and business’ care for other time appoints, 290 Until such man away him get from company—theirs. And if perchance a busy man come in where secret talk, Or earnest aught, be done—none otherwise than as the cat, In-running, hides his meat, so scants from hand that ready was:195 So that, oft, that other hear or see may, to such196 Nor view nor ear may serve their turns. In fine, a curious man lacks all197 confidence or trust; For, rather, to slaves’ and strangers’ charge our letters we198 commit,

193. let . . . get it prevents those from getting that which they seek. 194. heeds . . . fellowship heeds observes, takes note of; “observant,” which here probably has its common implication of ‘observe with suspicion.’ from . . . fellowship Elizabeth’s addition. Windebank reads “from all such.” 195. none . . . was The cat hides its meal from the hand of one who was ready to take it away. Plutarch’s simile actually concerns men hiding food from a cat. Estienne’s edition reads “non aliter quam fele praetercurrente solent opsonium, ita tollunt e medio quod erat prae manibus & abscondunt” (not otherwise than they [i.e., men] are accustomed to do when a cat runs by, they remove from open view the meal that was at hand and hide it). Erasmus’s addition to Plutarch, “quod erat prae manibus” (that was at hand), probably prompts Elizabeth’s “from hand that ready was,” which recalls the English equivalent of “prae manibus,” ‘ready at hand,’ even while taking on a newly literal, physical meaning in context. Windebank reads “no otherwise than as Catt / In running hides his meate, so snatches fro hand that redy was.” meat food in general, translating Estienne’s reading, “opsonium,” defined in Thomas Thomas’s 1587 dictionary as “all manners of meates.” scants from witholds from (rare). 196. that . . . such that other that which others. to such to the curious. 197. all “omni.” Omitted by Windebank, thus regularizing the meter. 198. rather . . . we Windebank moves “rather” to precede “we” and mars the meter.

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Or Epistel[s or our se]ales than to Curius famiLiar knowen frendes [300] but belLereφon not Lettars Caried born against himseLf did open but hand refrained from kingly writ with tempar Suche As he WoLd do with Continence from his mariadg Wife for to be a CuriVs man Lackz tempar non nowhit Less Than if adulterers part he plaid as fauting no Les To this intemperance distempar this is worst that ^ folish madnis hathe in store for in negLect of most and Comen Womens haunt To the Shut and GLorius One perhaps by chans to the deformd be Caried to, What madnis more or brain siknis may be So fareth hit With Curius folk Who passing by the fairest sheWs Lectors studies and disputes others Lettars breakith vp [310] With eares CLose to neghbors Wales and Whisperars adz Wher seruantz and Women be bide and that yet not Void of Danger but Sure euer of SLandars mark and infamy Yea nidefuL for Suche Curius Ons to shake the gre of ther disease Remembar What ther gaines haue bine or What ther Los

199. epistle[s . . . se]als We restore the obliterated letters by adopting Windebank’s reading, which tallies with Erasmus’s “literas aut sigilla” (letters or seals). 200. Bellerophon Homer Iliad 6.156–76 tells of Bellerophon’s unwitting delivery of a royal tablet that demanded his death because the king’s wife had falsely accused him of attempted seduction. 201. As . . . wife Bellerophon showed the same temperance in not reading the letter as he did in not seducing the king’s wife. would do Probably not a conditional, since it describes what actually happened, but a past indicative emphasizing Bellerophon’s exercise of will. 202. To . . . hath Added to this distemper (curiosity), this fact is the worst, that it contains foolish madness. Estienne’s edition reads “Adiuncta est huic intemperantiae, stulticia ac dementia” (Joined to this intemperance are foolishness and madness). 203. most . . . women’s most women’s as well as harlots’. Erasmus reads “praeteritis, quae plurimae sunt, communibus ac publicis mulieribus” (with common and public women, who are very numerous, passed over). “Quae plurimae sunt” renders Plutarch’s “τοσαύτας” (so many 519E). Evidently without reference to the Greek, Elizabeth construes Erasmus’s “plurimae” as ‘the most numerous’ rather than in its intensive sense of ‘very numerous.’ More significant, by wrenching the syntax she suppresses Erasmus’s claim that many women are harlots. 204. shut . . . deformed shut locked up; “conclusam.” glorious “sumptuousam” (expensive). deformed “deformem.”

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Or epistle[s or our se]als199 than to curious, known friends. 300 But Bellerophon,200 not letters borne against himself did op’n, But hand refained from kingly writ, with temper such As he would do, with continence, from his wife.201 To be a curious man lacks temper, no whit less Than if adulterer’s part he played, as fault no less. To this distemper, this is worst, that foolish madness hath.202 For, in neglect of most, and common women’s203 haunt, To the shut and glorious one (perhaps to the deformed)204 Be carried to—What madness more, or brainsickness, may be?205 So fareth it with curious folk who, passing by the fairest shows, 310 Lectures, studies, and disputes, others’ letters breaketh up,206 With ears close to neighbors’ walls, and whisperers adds207 Where servants and women bide, yet not void of danger, But sure, ever, of slander’s mark and infamy.208 Yea, needful for such curious ones, to shake off their disease: Remember what their gains have been, or what their loss.209

205. Be . . . be? be . . . to to be carried; “ferri.” What . . . be? Elizabeth makes a rhetorical question of Erasmus’s assertion that such behavior “insignis cuiusdam insaniae dementiaeque est” (is a remarkable form of some sort of madness and dementia). brainsickness . . . be Windebank reads “braynfall is,” regularizing the meter while complicating the sense with a nonce coinage. 206. Lectures . . . up Lectures . . . disputes Elizabeth renders with cognates Erasmus’s series of ablative absolute nouns, “praelectionibus, studiis, ac disputationibus.” Lectures oral readings of texts, lectures; Erasmus’s “praelectiones” refers to public readings and expositions of texts (Quintilian Institutio oratoria 1.2.15; 2.5.4). disputes Erasmus’s “disputationes” are the formal arguments in medieval and early modern schools by which parties defended and attacked philosophical positions. While Elizabeth may have avoided the word “disputation” for metrical reasons, the OED records a now obsolete sense of “dispute” as a discussion where opposing arguments are set forth, with a first example from 1608. See line 491 below. others’ letters “alienas epistolas.” Lectures . . . up Windebank’s “Letters, studyes disputes letters he breaketh vp” regularizes the meter but garbles the sense. 207. walls . . . adds walls, adds “wall,” “add” (Windebank). whisperers “susurros” (whispers). 208. But . . . infamy Expands “certe semper cum infamia” (but surely always with infamy). 209. what their gains . . . loss “quae ante compererunt” (what they have previously learned—from experience).

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for if as Simonides said Whan some time he Opened had his deskes One fild With reWardz empty fuL he found but empty that of thankes So if man some time shaL serche and open the Curius mans baiges ful of unnidefuL Vaine and stufd With aL Vnplesing thingz [320] Perchanche the first sight WyL him offend Whan by al menes he shaL make plain hoW undelitefuL, Vaine, and skornfuL aL the be NoW go on If any entring in to anciEnt boukes, and takes out the Worst from them and bouke he haue So inVented As out of Homeres Vers that hedles named be or Or out of tragitcaL Solosismz or out of suche as Vers as ArchiLochus made agains Women LeWdeLy and fuL Sawsy made Ina maner suche himselfe betraing and deceuing Worthy do you not think him of tragical curs and ban IVel may the betid the Sercher out of human Woes Yea hit shal not nide tragicaL curs for of hit self [330] unsemeLy and fruteLes LSeleing the storing of others sin What Suche Citi Was as that ^ Was Wiche Φilip of Wikedz Wretched men

210. Simonides . . . sometime Simonides A Greek lyric and elegiac poet (ca. 556–468 B.C.E), to whom many apophthegms were attributed in antiquity. when, sometime Windebank omits and regularizes the meter. 211. One . . . full Windebank’s “Fild with rewards he found” regularizes the meter. with rewards with wages; “mercedibus” (with wages, fees). 212. So . . . bags “ita siquis ex intervallo curiositatis penum aperiat” (so if someone after a period of time should open the curious man’s provisions). Windebank’s “So if man serch and open the Curious bagges” is slightly farther from the Latin sense. 213. Full . . . things “inutilibus, supervacaneis, et inamoenis rebus plenum” (full of useless, superfluous, and unpleasant things). unneedful, vain, unpleasing “things” is the object of all three adjectives. all . . . things “yrcksome thing” (Windebank). 214. first sight Erasmus reads “rei facies” (the appearance of the situation), which Elizabeth evidently associated with “prima facie” (at first sight). Plutarch reads, by contrast, “τὸ πρᾶγμα” (the deed 520A). Windebank omits “sight,” rendering the phrase unintelligible. 215. He . . . vain He . . . plain “apparuerit” (it will have become clear). undelightful “void of delite” (Windebank). vain Omitted by Windebank.

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For if, as Simonides said, when, sometime,210 he op’ned had his desks, One filled with rewards, full211 he found, but empty that of thanks: So if man sometime shall search and op’n the curious man’s bags,212 Full of unneedful, vain, and stuffed with all unpleasing things,213 320 Perchance the first sight214 will him offend when, by all means, He shall make plain how undelightful, vain,215 and scornful all they be. Now, go on:216 if any ent’ring into ancient books, and takes out The worst from them, and book he have so invented As, out of Homer’s verse, that “headless”217 namèd be; Or out of tragical, solecisms; 218 or out of such verse As Archilochus against women lewdly and full saucy made, In manner such, himself betraying and deceiving219— Worthy do you not think him, of tragical curse and ban?220 “Evil may thee betide, the searcher-out of human woes.”221 Yea, it shall not need tragical curse, for of itself, 330 222 Unseemly and fruitless: sealing the storing of others’ sin. Such city as that was, which Philip of wicked’st, wretched men

216. Now . . . on Elizabeth’s rendering of Erasmus’s call for attention, “Nunc age.” The Biblotheca Eliotae glosses “age” as “take hede,” the sense here, but Elizabeth probably misconstrues it as ‘proceed.’ Windebank reads “Now goe.” 217. headless “acephali.” A “headless” dactylic hexameter line begins with a short syllable rather than the long syllable prescribed by the meter. 218. out . . . solecisms “ex tragicis soloecismis.” 219. As . . . deceiving Archilochus A Greek poet of the seventh century B.C.E. who composed highly personal poetry in various meters, including harsh iambic invectives. himself . . . deceiving probably a pleonastic doublet with “deceiving” in the early modern sense of ‘betraying.’ Erasmus reads “se ipsum interim traducens” (at the same time traducing himself). 220. curse . . . ban A pleonastic doubling of “imprecationibus” ([worthy of] curses). 221. “Evil . . . woes” A fragment from an unknown tragedy. searcher-out Windebank’s “Sercher” mars the meter. 222. sealing i.e., sealing up. Elizabeth heavily overwrote this word, which Windebank misread as “slyeng,” construed by May as “slaying.”

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Was fiLd first bilt named Was therfor p Πονεροπολις as fild fuL of yL Curius men thes therfor WhiLe round about the ^ gather and Pepe Not fault of Vers or Poesy but Crimes of other Life ther faultz ys faultz and incongruety and about them cary amost unplesing vngracefuL tables of other euels Wiche ther oWne memory fittest instrument makes for as at Rome some picturs and [ ]11 yea in dide [340] bevtes formes sold by of boyes of Women the dispise about the go sold be and bide in marketplace Wher monstars VeWing and axing for foteLes men that armes haue like Cat Or thre yead men or Suche Whos nek resembels is like to Camel forme Or if any ther any be a of kind that mixture hath of Like Or yueL shapd untimeLy birth, but if dayly the be broght To suche a sight short WiL ther Liking be and and sone WyL hit abhor So suche as Curius be of others Liues and Linage birthe About the rabeL and Sins that haue befaLne in others hous Suche as afor the pried on Comes to ther mynd Remembar the do hoW of the hede of others yueLs [350]

11. [ ] There is a blank space of six or seven characters in this line on fol. 96v. 223. Πονερoπολις . . . Ill” Πονερoπολις Poneropolis (‘Crookville’), the nickname of a Thracian city founded by Phillip II, Alexander the Great’s father, and king of Macedon 359–336 B.C.E. Elizabeth follows Erasmus in writing the city’s name in Greek letters (miscopying an eta as an epsilon) and adapts to English usage by changing his accusative form to an undeclined nominative. as . . . Ill” Elizabeth’s gloss. 224. table writing tablet; “grammatophylacion” (a place for keeping records)—Erasmus’s transliteration of Plutarch’s Greek. 225. some . . . indeed some some people; “quidam.” [statues] There is a blank space of six or seven characters in Elizabeth’s manuscript at this point. Erasmus reads “statuas”; Windebank reads “statues.” yea, indeed “per Iovem.” 226. Forms . . . women images or likenesses of boys and women, for sale. Erasmus reads “puerorum venalium ac mulierum formas”; “formas” in the sense of ‘beauties’ renders “τὰ κάλλη” in Plutarch’s “τὰ κάλλη τῶν ὠνίων παίδων καὶ γυναικῶν” (the beauties of boys and women for sale 520C). Yet Erasmus’s “formas,” construed without reference to Plutarch, is easily interpreted in context as Elizabeth does, to mean “forms” like the pictures and statues of line 339. The original-spelling text shows that Elizabeth first wrote “bevtes,” i.e., beauties, for “formas” but then revised, presumably deciding that “forms” better fit the context. By making “sold” modify “forms” rather than the “venal” (“venalium”) “boys and women” in Erasmus’s rendering, she suppresses the allusion to prostitution. See our general introduction, Elizabeth I: Translations, 1544–1589, 16. 227. monsters “portenta” (monstrosities).

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First built; named was, therefore, “Πονερoπολις,” as ‘Filled Full of Ill.’223 Curious men, therefore, while round about they gather and peep, Not fault of verse or poesy, but crimes of other’ life— Their faults and incongruity—and about them carry A most unpleasing, ungraceful table224 of other’ evils, Which their own memory fittest instrument makes. For as at Rome some, pictures and [statues], yea, indeed,225 Forms sold, of boys, of women,226 they despise; about they go, 340 And bide in marketplace, where monsters227 sold be: Viewing, and asking for footless men that arms have like cat,228 Or three-eyed men, or such whose neck is like to camel form;229 Or if there any be of kind, that mixture hath of like;230 Or evil-shaped, untimely birth.231 But if daily they be brought To such a sight, short will their liking be; and soon will it abhor. So, such as curious be of others’ lives and lineage’ birth,232 About the rabble, and sins that have befall’n in others’ house233 Such as afore they prièd on, comes to their mind: 350 Remember they do,234 how, of the heed of others’ evils,

228. arms . . . cat “felium instar habentes cubitos” (having catlike arms). The cat is Erasmus’s invention. Plutarch’s “τοὺς γαλεάγκωνας” (weasel-armed, i.e., short-armed, men; 520C) puzzled translators: Wilhelm Xylander (1570) reads “vitiosis” (flawed) arms; Jacques Amyot (1572), arms “tournez au contraire” (bent in the wrong direction). arms Elizabeth’s spelling, “armes,” suggests disyllabic pronunciation. 229. three-eyed . . . form three-eyed “quibus sunt tres oculi.” Windebank misreads as “three head.” whose . . . camel form Estienne’s edition reads “qui capitis forma struthiocamelum repraesentant” (who in the form of their head resemble an ostrich). See the discussion in our introduction, p. 376. 230. that . . . like that mixes like kinds; “species commixta.” 231. evil-shaped . . . birth “portentum abortivum” (prematurely born monstrosity). Plutarch has no reference to birth (520C). 232. others’ . . . birth others’ lives Condenses “lapsus alienae vitae” (the lapses of others’ lives). lineage’ birth “probra generis” (the faults of lineage). 233. the . . . house the rabble Erasmus reads “turbas,” which here means ‘tumults, uproars’—rendering Plutarch’s “διαστροφάς” (madnesses, delinquencies 520C)—but often in the singular form means the ‘mob.’ Windebank miscopies as “they rabble.” sins . . . house “peccata, quae inciderunt in aedibus alienis.” “Quae inciderunt,” which prompts Elizabeth’s “that have befallen,” has no counterpart in Plutarch. 234. comes . . . do Estienne’s edition has hortatory subjunctives, not indicatives: “in memoriam revocent, meminerintque” (let them call back to memory, and let them remember).

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they gather haue nor fauor Credit nor profit any Hit muche may therfor aVaiL suche maladye to driue If first from dede may hap aLof We With Vse our self inVre And so may Lerne in this motion to tempar giue our seLf For disease increase hath groWen by Customs use Wiche sLoWLy makes us profit and goord Wiche els Wold turne to Wors, if goes hit had further gone but how hit may be don of Custome Let Vs speke beginningz first be made of easys things to quikly sone don And suche as Comen haps maid Vulgar peple Vse [360] for what mad matter passing by monumentz old to scorne disdain to read neglect suche Verse or Writ as ther graffin be or What hard thing Wer hit to pas by suche skrapings As WaLz in Writings receue and not to reade In Silence Warninge Vs that nothing ther is Writen That profit or delite may brede vs or to giue Vs but doth remember in a Writing for good he best frind of ours And other Like to this ful Vain and fild With toys Wiche in them selsVes semes not to hurt in reading but SLiLy the annoy for briding Care to knoWe Vnideles things

235. gather[ed] . . . profit gather[ed] Elizabeth’s “gather,” an evident penslip, is also Windebank’s reading. no . . . profit Windebank reads “no profit nor credit.” credit esteem, honor. 236. If . . . aloof If we first stay aloof, perhaps, from doing (what flatters our curiosity). Erasmus reads “si . . . initio e longinquo facto” (if from the beginning and prolonged doing). 237. motion . . . ourself in . . . motion in this emotion; “in hoc affectu.” to . . . ourself to temper ourselves; “temperare nobis.” 238. Which . . . gone “paulatim in peius proficientis” (slowly proceeding to the worst). Elizabeth turns a statement about how disease worsens into a hypothetical about how disease would worsen if left unattended. 239. of custom of habit. Estienne’s edition reads “de exercitione” (of practice / training). All other Erasmus editions consulted except Cornario’s read “de exercitione temperantiae” (of the practice / training of temperance). 240. Beginnings . . . easiest . . . soon Windebank reads “Beginning . . . easy . . . and soonest.” 241. And . . . use “et maxime vulgaria sunt” (and are very ordinary matters). Elizabeth develops the implications of “vulgaria” as matters that pertain to the “vulgar” or common “people.”

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They gather[ed] have no credit nor profit, 235 any. It much may therefore avail, such malady to drive, If first from deed, mayhap, aloof,236 with use ourself inure; And so may learn, in this motion, to temper give ourself.237 For disease’ increase hath grown by custom’s use, Which else would turn to worse, if it had further gone.238 But how it may be done, of custom239 let us speak. Beginnings first be made of easiest things, soon240 done, And such as common haps made vulgar people use.241 For what mad matter,242 passing by monuments old, 360 To disdain to read, neglect verse or writ there graven be? Or what hard243 thing were it, to pass by such scrapings As walls in writings receive, and not to read? In silence warning us,244 that nothing there is written That profit or delight may breed us, or to give us.245 But “doth remember” (a writing), “good, he,” “best friend of ours,”246 And other like to this, full vain and filled with toys, Which, in themselves, seems not to hurt in reading; But slyly they annoy, for breeding care to know unneedless 247 things.

242. For . . . matter “Quantulum enim negoci” (For how little a difficulty). mad foolish. Elizabeth’s puzzling choice of this adjective to render Erasmus’s phrase perhaps suggests the sense of ‘brainless,’ i.e., without thinking. The slang term “no-brainer” may be today’s analogue of “mad matter.” 243. hard “difficultatis” (of difficulty). Windebank omits “hard,” marring the meter and deviating from the Latin sense. 244. us ourselves. 245. That . . . us Elizabeth expands “quod utilitatem aut oblectationem adferat” (that would bring benefit or delight). or . . . us Windebank rephrases: “or to vs giue.” 246. But . . . ours” Erasmus reads “Sed meminit ille illius in bonum et amicorum optimus hic est” (But “so-and-so remembers, of so-and-so,” “May he be well,” and “Here is the best of friends”). The phrases are snippets of epitaphic formulae. (a writing) Elizabeth’s cryptic addition seems intended to identify the phrases as inscriptions. “good, he” “in bonum,” better construed as ‘may he be well.’ 247. unneedless Elizabeth’s writing contains other instances of pleonastic negation in prefixes, such as “undoubtful of health” (CW, 17). Windebank emends to “vnneedfull.”

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And as the huntars rates ther houndz that useth chaunge [370] And With ther Lyams them pluk back and WithdraWe and kepes ther Sente bothe pure and hole in righ chase That egerLar they firme ther pace and foloWe firme and Winding With ther sent the perVeWe steps of ther game So aught hit fare With Curius man that runs to euery gase In striuing for to see or Lift his eare aL to hire bak kepe him and WithdraWe and him him selfe reserue for profit more for as the Lions Walke With Couuer ClaWes and Egles eke ther talan Lest sharpnis thers and fiersnis ^ to muche the do duL [380] So mynding HoW aL Curius Care haue sharpist sight And naroWLy Lookes on KnoWelege of sondry sortz Let us not hit Consume nor blunt in Worsar thing In Second place Let us inVre if by an others house we go not to Louke in nor rolLe our yees to that wich is Within In Vsinge Curius serche in stede of ether handz but ready haue Zenocrates saw that did deny That differens any Wer Whither fete or hand the hous did enter ♠ 12 as for Guest it is a shame aWhiLe an inner iVeL shuld to VeWe For thes be suche things as seen in the in hous most, pots that Lies on ground [390]

12. ♠ A heavily retraced caret keys the correct position, one line from the bottom of fol. 97r, of Elizabeth’s single line on fol. 93v, “for nether iust, honist, nor plesing wer suche sheWe.” See n10, p. 408. 248. rates chides. “rate” (Windebank). 249. lyams leashes. “Lyams” can be pronounced as one or two syllables (OED). 250. That . . . firm Expands “ut acrius inhaereat vestigiis” (in order that he [the dog] may hug the tracks more eagerly). 251. And . . . game This is one of two verse quotations indented and italicized in Estienne’s edition that Elizabeth does not specially indent. winding following with a winding course. steps . . . game “vestigia summa ferarum” (the final tracks of beasts). 252. Back . . . more “cohibere ac retrahere, quo servetur ad utilia” ([ought] to refrain and withdraw in order that it [curiosity] may be preserved for profitable things). reserve preserve (Windebank). 253. walk . . . talons Expands “dum ambulant, ungues vertunt introrsum” (when they [lions and eagles] walk, they turn their claws inward). cover i.e., covert, covered; Windebank reads “couuert.”

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And, as the hunters rates248 their hounds that useth change, 370 And with their lyams249 them pluck back, and withdraw, And keeps their scent both pure and whole, in right chase, That, eagerlier, they firm their pace, and follow firm,250 And winding, with their scent, the steps of their game:251 So ought it fare with curious man that runs to every gaze, In striving for to see, or lift his ear all to hear, Back keep him, and withdraw himself; reserve for profit more.252 For, as the lions walk with cover claws, and eagles eke their talons,253 Lest sharpness theirs, and fierceness too much they dull: So, minding how all curious care have sharpest sight, 380 And narrowly looks on knowledge of sundry sorts:254 Let us not it consume, nor blunt in worser thing. In second place, let us inure, if by another’s house we go, Not255 to look in, nor roll our eyes to that which is within, In using curious search, instead of either hands;256 But ready have Xenocrates’ saw257 that did deny That difference any were whether feet or [eyes] the house did enter:258 For neither just, honest, nor pleasing were such show;259 “For guest, it is a shame, an inner ill to view.”260 For these be seen in house most: pots that lies on ground, 390

254. minding . . . sorts “existimantes curiositatem ad multorum cognitionem aciem quandam & acumen habere” (judging curiosity that seeks knowledge of many things to have a certain sharpness and keenness). Plutarch argues that a laudable curiosity for knowledge should not be wasted on trivial matters. narrowly rigoriously, carefully. 255. Not “Nor” (Windebank). 256. instead . . . hands “manus . . . vice” (instead of [our] hands). either both; Windebank reads “other,” marring the sense. 257. Xenocrates’ saw Xenocrates (339–314 B.C.E.) was head of the Academy founded by Plato. Everyday morality seems to have been his chief philosophical interest. 258. feet . . . [eyes] “pedes an oculos” (feet or eyes). [eyes] Elizabeth’s manuscript nonsensically reads “hand.” We adopt Windebank’s “eyes” as a revision arguably originating with Elizabeth. See our introduction, p. 386. 259. For . . . show On the placement of line 388, see our introduction, p. 387. 260. “For . . . view” The passage is a fragment from Euripides.

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Or maidens sitting stiL but nothing naugh Worth or graue Yet foWLe a shame hit is With gLanche on suche to bend our yees And hither bend turne our Witz sharpnis and pliing mynd for to suche thinges a Custom make is Wicked yL Diogenes ons Whan saW he did dioxsipon in Olimpia race In Chariet Caried not hable WithdraWe his Yea from Woman faire but bak Wrying and turning nek in casting on her Looke behold quoth he a WreStLar stout with With Wry nek ^ by maid is Won The busy men You may behold to eche shew turne ther hed the turn about but Whan Custom and Care hathe made them ready to [400] VeWe eche thing but I suppos that no man Ought permit his sence abrode to range Like maiden that no bringing Vp suche as Wer mete hathe had but Whan from myndz Care Sence is sent to businis Worke Attend suche thingz and WakLy as quicLy teL thy message ^ ansWere And than agane in thy selfe With reason make abodd and ther abide not strayinge out of office charg but noW hapz that Wiche SoφoscLes Wont is teL And so as fried hors of the bit that that C sLiped CarieLes hand of holdar did negLect / [410]

261. wit’s . . . mind Elizabeth expands Erasmus’s “aciem ingenii” (sharpness of wit). Plutarch reads, by contrast, “τὴν ψυχὴν” (the soul 521B). plying pliant. 262. Diogenes . . . Dioxippus Diogenes A Cynic philosopher (404–323 B.C.E.) who argued that happiness consisted in fulfilling one’s natural needs in the easiest possible manner. saw “see” (Windebank). Dioxippus An Olympic victor, and companion of Alexander the Great. 263. wrying turning. 264. won vanquished. 265. to . . . show Omitted by Windebank, shortening the line to seven feet. 266. permit . . . sense sense faculties of perception; “sensum.” permit Omitted by Windebank. 267. maiden . . . had Estienne’s edition reads “famulam non probe institutam” (a servant girl who has not been well taught).

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Or maidens sitting still, but nothing aught worth, or grave. Yet a shame it is, with glance, on such to bend our eyes, And hither turn our wit’s sharpness and plying mind:261 For to such things a custom make is wicked, ill. Diogenes, once, when saw he did, Dioxippus262 in Olympia race, In chariot carried, not able withdraw his eyes from woman fair, But back wrying,263 and turning neck, in casting on her, look: “Behold,” quoth he, “a wrestler stout, with wry neck by maid is won.”264 The busy men you may behold: to each show,265 their head they turn about, When custom and care hath made them ready to view each thing. 400 But I suppose that no man ought permit his sense266 abroad to range, Like maiden that no bringing-up, such as were meet, hath had.267 But when, from mind’s care, sense is sent to business’ work: Attend such things, and as quickly tell,268 thy message’ answer And then again, in thyself, with reason make abode And there abide, not straying out of office’ charge.269 But now haps that, which Sophocles’ wont is, tell: “And so, as freed horse, the bit That careless hand of holder 410 Did neglect.”270

268. tell “renuntiare” ([ought] to report back). Windebank’s “tend” is evidently a penslip that partly repeats “attend” from earlier in the line. 269. And . . . charge And . . . abide And there wait submissively. Erasmus reads “illique attendere” (and [ought] to pay heed to it [reason]); Elizabeth probably misread “illique” (to it [reason]) as “illicque” (and there). not . . . charge Elizabeth’s addition. 270. “And . . . neglect” Erasmus loosely paraphrases Sophocles Electra 724–25: “Deinde vero viri non tenentis habenas / Liberi equi vi rapiunt” (But then the horses, free of the man who does not hold on to the reins, rush off with force). The enjambments may have prevented Elizabeth from noticing that her translation lacks a main verb. Plutarch’s phrasing sustains the concreteness of Sophocles’ image: the horses are “Αἰνιᾶνος . . . ἄστομοι / πῶλοι” (hard-mouthed Aenanian colts 521C).

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So Seance (as We haue told) Void of a guide or Vse furthe the go and often draWes the mynd to that that augh not be At Lengh hurLes him doWne to breke his nek Whiche makes that falsly w said ^ and brakd is of democratus That of purpos he pluckt Out his yees holding them to fired gLas and from the same reflection taking tooke Lest that the his shuLd the his mynd kepe shut and oft caL back to oWtWard Caus not sufering that the shud him Let Left them att home That he might bide in Vnderstandings good as shutting sheWeWe from WindoWes that to hie Waies is bend ther Light [420] but most tru hit is that rareLy the do W feLe what do the shuld that Vexingeth oft ther mynd With busy Careful thoght Yea Musis dipe the fur from toWne did set place And night as frind firmist frind to knoWeLege de great They titled With Ευφρονην ^ name supposing that such Vse and Ease, Whom no other Care did Let or hindar Shuld haue great helpe to suche thngs as Seke the did Yea and that is not hard, nor A Cumber hathe therin As oft as men ban the or Cursing Wordes afforde [430] No eare to Giue therto but as a defe man herd them Or Whan great pres is in the pLace to sit the stiL And if thou Cans not ^ not rule the so arise and Go thi Way For if thou feloWe Curius folke no good therof thou getz but profit great shal the bifaL if curius part thou shun

271. hurls . . . neck Elizabeth vividly expands “dant illum praecipitem” (give him a fall). hurls Elizabeth’s spelling, “hurles,” suggests disyllabic pronunciation. 272. they i.e., his eyes. Windebank misconstrues as “he.” 273. in . . . show in . . . good “in rebus intelligibilibus” (in intellectual matters). show Omitted by Windebank, marring sense and meter. 274. highways public roads. 275. rarely . . . should “quod raro movent sensum” (that rarely they activate the physical senses). Erasmus follows Plutarch in celebrating those who suppress sense perception in favor of pure intellection. Elizabeth, however, turns the phrase into a critique of the contemplative life for hindering awareness of moral responsibilities in the active life. 276. deep Elizabeth’s addition. 277. as . . . name as . . . great “velut amicam intelligentiae”—Erasmus’s explanatory addition. Ευφρονην name Elizabeth writes in Greek letters Erasmus’s “euphronen,” a transliteration of Plutarch’s “εὐφρόνην” (the kindly time 521D). Windebank writes the

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So, sense (as we have told), void of a guide or use, Forth they go, and often draw the mind to that ought not be, At length hurls him down, to break his neck.271 Which makes that falsely said, and bragg’d is, of Democritus: That of purpose he plucked out his eyes, holding them to firèd glass; And, from the same, reflection took, lest that they272 should His mind keep shut, and oft call back to outward cause: Not suff ’ring that they should him let, left them at home, That he might bide in understandings good, as shutting show273 From windows that to highways274 bend their light. 420 But most true ’tis, that rarely they do feel, what do they should;275 That vexeth oft their mind with busy, careful thought: Yea, Muses deep276 they far from town did place; And Night, as firmest friend to knowledge great, They titled with Ευφρονην name,277 supposing that such use And ease,278 whom no other care did let or hinder, Should have great help to such things as seek they279 did. Yea, and that is not hard, nor a280 cumber hath therein, As oft as men ban thee, or cursing words afford:281 No ear to give thereto, but as a deaf man heard them;282 430 Or when great press283 is in the place, to sit thee still, And if thou canst not rule thee so, arise and go thy way. For if thou fellow284 curious folk, no good thereof thou getst But profit great shall thee befall, if curious part thou shun

term in Roman letters. Plutarch proceeds to derive this common Greek euphemism for Night from its putative kindness to intellectuals, thus prompting Erasmus’s gloss. 278. such . . . ease such repeated (mental) exercise and leisure; “quietem et assiduitatem illam” (rest and that repeated exercise). Plutarch has no equivalent of “assiduitatem illam.” such Omitted by Windebank, thus marring the meter. 279. have . . . they have . . . help “multum habere momenti” (have much influence)— an ongoing allusion to kindly Night. they intellectuals. 280. a Omitted by Windebank, thus regularizing the meter. 281. As . . . . afford “quotiens homines in foro sese vicissim conviciis ac maledictis impetunt” (as often as men assail one another with reproofs and insults in the public square). 282. but . . . them Elizabeth’s addition. heard Windebank corrects to an imperative, “heare.” 283. great press a large crowd. 284. thou fellow you associate with; “admiscueris.” Windebank reads “thou follow.”

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And with VioLence great thou Vse and Vse hit may reasons Lore And profiting taking from this grounWork and earnestar Custom Right WeL shalt do if theatar thou do pas that Wher pleasant augh is plaid and if thy frindz do the intreat to Comedie or game deny Or if comen shutz about the ringe Luke not Witsafe13 not Loukz for as Socrates did WeL Warne us to take hede and beWare [440] Of suche meat as did prouoke the unhungrie men to eate Alike he said of draughtz suche Without thrust to take So must We shun suche sheWes and tales as entise and deLite allure whan nide of them We haue not at alL but for remedie Yea XeCirus Wold not Panthea behold nor VeWe And Whan Araspus told ^ him hoW she Worthy Was be seene That is the Cause quoth he Why more I wold refrain her Yea if I shuld thy CounseL foLoWe and go to her Perhaps she WoLd persWade me again retourne to her again Euen Whan my Laisur aught not grante be to sit by her and Louke [450] In Leauing of more Serius hidefuL matters After thes bayt In maner suche nor ALexander Wold darius Wife behold When fame she had of beauty great and praised muche for it But meting mother hers a Woman old the maiden fair denied both We WhiLe w ful sLiLy Looke in chamber of the Wife thogh pentische Like the WindoWe buildt We think no harme

13. Witsafe A rare sixteenth-century form of “vouchsafe.” 285. if . . . lore if you shun curiosity with great force, and if you employ reason’s lore, and if curiosity employs it too. Expands “si curiositatem avertas vique co[h]erceas, ut consuescat obtemperare rationi” (if you banish curiosity and restrain it with force, so that it becomes accustomed to submit to reason). 286. pleasant aught “quid iucundi.” Plutarch, by contrast, reads “ἀκροάματος εὐημεροῦντος” (of a successful performance 521E). 287. to . . . game “ad saltationis aut comoediae spectaculum” (to a spectacle of dancing or comedy). Plutarch, by contrast, focuses on the performers: “ὀρχηστοῦ τινος ἢ κωμῳδοῦ θέαν” (the spectacle of some dancer or comic actor 521E). 288. ring circular space used for sports or performances; “in stadio circove” (in the stadium or circus). 289. men Omitted by Windebank, thus roughening the meter.

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With violence great, thou use, and use it may reason’s lore.285 And profit taking from this groundwork, and earnester custom, Right well shalt do, if theater thou do pass, where pleasant aught286 is played, And if thy friends do thee entreat to comedy or game,287 deny; Or if common shouts about the ring,288 vouchsafe not looks. For as Socrates did well warn us, to take heed and beware 440 Of such meat as did provoke the unhungry men289 to eat, Alike he said of draughts—such, without thirst, to take: So must we shun such shows and tales as entice and allure, When need of them we have not at all, but for remedy.290 Yea, Cyrus291 would not Panthea behold nor view, And when Araspus told him, how she worthy was, be seen, “That is the cause,” quoth he, “why more I would refrain her. Yea, if I should thy counsel follow, and go to her, Perhaps she would persuade me again, return again, Ev’n when my leisure ought not be, to sit by her and look, 450 In leaving of more serious, heedful matters.” In manner such, nor Alexander292 would Darius’s wife behold, When fame she had of beauty great, and praisèd much for it; But meeting mother hers, a woman old, the maiden fair, denied. We, while full slyly look in chamber293 of the wife, Though penthouse-like294 the window built, we think no harm;

290. but . . . remedy but rather for remedy or relief from them—Elizabeth’s addition. for Omitted by Windebank, thus smoothing the meter. 291. Cyrus Xenophon’s Cyropaedia 5.1.8 relates how Cyrus the Great, king of Persia, did not wish to look upon the beautiful queen Panthea whom he had captured. 292. Alexander Alexander the Great defeated Darius III, king of Persia, and captured his family after the battle of Issus in 333 B.C.E. 293. in chamber “in . . . cubicula” (in bedrooms), a mistranslation of Plutarch’s “φορείοις” (in litters 522A). 294. penthouse-like with a sloping overhang. Elizabeth’s description of the window probably derives from construing Erasmus’s “fenestris pensiles” as ‘overhanging windows.’ “Pensiles” actually refers to the eyes of the curious that are ‘hanging from’ the windows (“a fenestris pensiles”).

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Tho curius Care our oWne we suffer Slip to cornerz aL hit profitz also sometime that iustice may be done to pas ouer suche dede That thou mast more accoustume the to flie from that is Wrong and that thou mast the bettar inVre fr in continent sort [460] Sometime forbeare the LaWful Companie of thi oWen Wif Lest another time thou be inticed to others mens bringing thus briding this Custom to in Curiositie proVe sometime that the doth touche refuse neglect

nor suffer ons thy eare to giVe therto a hede And if a man Wold tel the aught done at thy home diffar him and from thy eares fur set What Wordz of the be said Ediddpus busy Serche did Wrap him in most mishaps harmes for Whan of him seLfe he axed as if he no Corinthe wer but Guest he met With Laivs Who after kild he had [470] and mother his oWne in mariage had tok With Whom he kingdom got As With doWary hers, Whan than he happy he thoght was all he Was Againe he questioned more of himself Who he Was Wiche Whan his Wif Wold Let more earnest he the old man as giLty he Wer rebuKed Omitting no good menes to make him beWrayd aL that was hid Than Whan suspect herof his mynd had moche distract And old man had skrigd out O Worthi me Whom nide to speke constrains

295. suffer . . . all Erasmus reads “curiositatem nostram patiamur illabi . . . per omnia” (we allow our curiosity to slip . . . to all things). curiosity Windebank’s “corners” misses the sense. 296. such deed Elizabeth’s elliptical phrase presumably means ‘even a deed that is just.’ Erasmus reads “ad iusticiam exercendam utile nonnunquam et quod iustum est praetermittere” (for practicing justice it is useful sometimes to forgo even that which is just). 297. thee . . . sort thee . . . in accustom yourself to. continent sort “pudicitiam.” 298. Prove . . . neglect Try, sometimes, to ignore that which concerns you personally; “tenta nonunquam & eorum quae ad te pertinent nonnulla dissimulare” (try to ignore sometimes some things that concern you). We have separated as a headless iambic pentameter line these words, which are crammed in as an addition to line 463 in Elizabeth’s manuscript. Probably because of the near illegibility of the addition, Windebank omits “thee doth touch, neglect,” thus marring the sense. 299. defer set aside; “differas” (you should put off ). 300. Corinth Corinthian.

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Though curious care, our own, we suffer slip to curiosity, all.295 It profits also, sometime, that justice may be done, to pass o’er such deed296 That thou mayst more accustom thee, to fly from that is wrong; 460 And that thou mayst thee better inure in continent sort,297 Sometime forbear the lawful company of thy own wife, Lest another time thou be enticed to other men’s, Breeding this custom in curiosity: Prove, sometime, that thee doth touch, neglect;298 Nor suffer, once, thy ear to give thereto a heed. And if a man would tell thee aught done at thy home, defer299 him; And from thy ears far set what words of thee be said. Oedipus’ busy search did wrap him in most harms. For, when of himself he asked, as he no Corinth300 were, But guest—he met with Laius who, after, killed he had; 470 And mother his own, in marriage took, with whom he kingdom got, With dowry hers301—when, then happy, he thought he was, Again he questioned who he was: which, when his wife would let,302 More earnest he, the old man as guilty he were,303 rebuked, Omitting no good means to make bewrayed all that was hid.304 Then, when suspect hereof305 his mind had much distract, And old man had screeched out, “O worthy me, whom need to speak constrains!”306

301. with whom . . . hers “dotisque nomine regnum adeptus” (having acquired the kingdom as her dowry). Plutarch does not mention a dowry. 302. who . . . let who . . . was Elizabeth’s revision of her initial phrasing, “more of himself,” which she struck through, as shown in our original-spelling text. Oddly and exceptionally, Windebank retains “more of himself.” let prevent. 303. as . . . were as if he (the old shepherd) were cognizant (of the facts). guilty cognizant, privy; “conscium” (cognizant). Elizabeth’s “guilty” may also have its modern sense, just as Latin “conscius / um” frequently means ‘guilty.’ 304. bewrayed . . . hid Corresponds to a relative clause not in Plutarch: “quo cogi posset ad prodendum arcanum” (by which he could be driven to reveal the secret). bewrayed exposed, revealed. all Omitted by Windebank. 305. suspect hereof suspicion of the truth; “rei susipicio.” 306. “O . . . constrains!” This is the second of two quotations indented and italicized in Estienne’s edition that Elizabeth does not specially indent. This and line 479 are quotations from Sophocles Oedipus Rex 1169–70: the exclamation of the old shepherd who had rescued the infant Oedipus, and the foreboding response of King Oedipus.

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Yeat kindekLed and Vexed with Curiosities stiknge made ansWer Compeld to heare Yeat heare I must / So Swet a SoWre hit is nor may be Withstode Curiosities motion [480] As Wound that bloudies hit self while hit is Launged but Who is freed from this disease and is Of mildy spirit Nor GiLty is of any iueL shal thus begin to say O Goddis hoW Wise art thou that dost forget the yl Wherfor against aL this a Custom must be broght and made that strait a Lettar broght may not be broken up As many do wiche whan the think ther handz to sLow the ad ther tethe Whenseuer post do Come mete him not nor Let us change stande If so hit hap a frind arive and say that some What he wyL tel him Yea rather if aught thou brings of profit and of proffit help [490] Whan ons in Rome dispute I made a Clouin14 that Domitian after kild Who enVied muche the princis GLory did Listen listening to my Lectur And in the While a Soldiar Coming Ceasars pistil geuing him A siLence made Whom none Wold Let to reade the sent

O . . . me “Heu me” (O me!). worthy obliged to do something (a now obsolete sense). Windebank’s “wo worth mee,” an early modern curse meaning ‘May woe befall me,’ alters the sense and mars the meter. 14. Clouin clown, i.e., countryman. 307. kindled . . . with kindled Estienne’s edition reads “accensus” (inflamed, aroused), a contextually more plausible rendering of Plutarch’s “ἐξημμένος” (522C) than is Erasmus’s original “devinctus” (tied to). with Omitted by Windebank, marring sense and meter. 308. motion agitation; “titillatio” (tickling). 309. is lanced is split open, rendering the cognate in Estienne’s edition, “lancinatur” (is split apart). Plutarch’s “ἀμύσσηται” (is scratched / mangled / torn apart 522D) prompted diverse renderings: except for Cornario’s, all other Erasmus editions consulted read “sugitur” (is sucked). 310. Nor guilty “neque gnarus” (nor aware of). guilty See n303. 311. “O . . . ill” The quotation is from Euripides Orestes 213. 312. their teeth “teeth thereto” (Windebank). 313. Whencever . . . stand Whencever from whatever place; “sicunde.” post courier; “nuncius” (messenger). stand place; “loco” (from [our] place). Windebank reads “seat.”

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Yet, kindled and vexed with307 curiosity’s sting, made answer: “Compelled to hear, yet hear I must.” So sweet a sour it is; nor may be withstood curiosity’s motion,308 480 As wound that bloodies itself while it is lanced.309 But who is freed from this disease, and is of mildy spirit, Nor guilty310 is of any evil, shall thus begin to say “O goddess, how wise art thou, that dost forget the ill.”311 Wherefore, against all this, a custom must be made, That, strait, a letter brought may not be broken up, As many do which, when they think their hands too slow, they add their teeth.312 Whencever post do come, meet him not; nor let us change stand.313 If so it hap, a friend arrive and say that, somewhat he will tell him; 314 “Yea, rather, if aught thou brings of profit and of help.”315 490 When once, in Rome, dispute I made, a clown316 that Domitian after killed, Who envied much the prince’s glory, list’ning to317 my lecture— And, in the while, a soldier coming, Caesar’s ’pistle giving318 him, A silence made, whom none would let to read the sent319—

314. somewhat . . . him Erasmus reads, as an imagined quotation of the friend, “Habeo nonnihil novae rei, quod tibi dicam” (I have some news that I will tell you). Elizabeth’s rendering into indirect discourse should read “you” in place of “him.” 315. “Yea . . . help” The recommended response to the friend of line 489. 316. dispute . . . clown dispute a philosophical argument; Erasmus reads “dissererem” (I was discussing). clown An early modern term for a countryman or boor. Elizabeth mistakes the name Rusticus for the Latin adjective “rusticus” meaning ‘a rustic’ or ‘uncouth man.’ Plutarch probably refers to the Roman Stoic Junius Arulenus Rusticus, whom the emperor Domitian put to death ca. 93 C.E. See Tacitus Agricola 2.1; Suetonius Life of Domitian 10. 317. envied . . . to envied . . . glory “gloriae illius invidens” (envying his glory). The subject is Domitian, who envied Rusticus, but Elizabeth, having construed Rusticus as a rustic, reverses the subject and object of envy. list’ning to “audiebat.” Windebank’s “assisting to” (i.e., attending) is further from the Latin. 318. giving “gave” (Windebank). 319. whom . . . sent no one would prevent him from reading the letter. Erasmus puts the point positively: “quo posset epistolam legere” (so that he could read the letter).

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Refuse hit nor Wold hit open tiL ended was my reading and that I had dismist my hearers and scoLars Wherin eache man did admire the grauitie of this man but Whan by aL menes and Ways he nurris shaL Curiosities maLadie and So shaL make hit stronge and vioLent than easy hit is not to hit refrain and ruLe [500] for that by Vse hit is throwen is and Caried borne to things VnLaWful Yea the Lettars teare Vp and frindz secretz discoVer And holy sacred things behold Whom no mans VeWe aught se and steps setz in place unfit and kingly Wordz and dedes do serche And tirauns to Who ought aL KnoWe are made most odious by thos same men Who th eares thers and flatterars be called Therfor youngar Darius the first youngar had some hirars he had Whom his eare as ὠτακουστας calld himseLf mistrusting douting others annoi and fearing himself but dionisians fuisted amog amonge the Siracutions soche fLering folk Whom in changest state Whan Siracusians found distroied [510] for fLatterars are of kind and stoke of Curius Line

320. Refuse Elizabeth’s penslip for “refused”; “noluit” (refused). 321. and scholars Elizabeth’s addition. 322. by . . . he by . . . ways “quibuscumque . . . modis” (by any means). Plutarch, by contrast, reads “οἷς ἔξεστι” (upon permitted things 522E). he someone; “quis.” 323. thrown . . . borne Elizabeth reproduces Erasmus’s doublet “fertur rapiturque,” which expands Plutarch’s “φερομένου” (being carried 522E). thrown Elizabeth’s “throwen” suggests disyllabic pronunciation. and borne Windebank’s substitution, “soon,” is further from the Latin and roughens the meter. 324. they . . . up they Windebank’s “the” could mean either “the” or “they.” tear up “resignant” (unseal, open). 325. flatterers “delatores” (informers). See our introduction, p. 378. 326. some . . . ὠτακουστας some . . . had “quosdam habebat auscultatores” (had certain hearers). Windebank omits this phrase, reducing the number of feet but marring the sense. ὠτακουστας eavesdroppers (literally, ‘ear-hearers’). Elizabeth, transcribing the Greek from Estienne’s edition, follows her usual practice in omitting the grave word ac-

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Refuse320 it, nor would it open, till ended was my reading, And that I had dismissed my hearers and scholars,321 Wherein each man did admire the gravity of this man. But when, by all means and ways, he322 nourish shall Curiosity’s malady, and so, shall make it strong and violent, Then easy it is not, it refrain and rule, 500 For that, by use, it thrown is, and borne323 to things unlawful: Yea, they letters tear up,324 and friends’ secrets discover; And sacred things behold, whom no man’s view ought see, And steps sets in place unfit, and kingly words and deeds do search. And tyrants, too, who ought all know, are made most odious By those men who “ears-theirs” and “flatterers”325 be called: Therefore, younger Darius, the first, some hearers he had, as “ὠτακουστας”326 called Himself mistrusting, doubting others’ annoy, and fearing.327 But Dionysians foisted among the Syracusans such fleering folk,328 Whom, in changedst state, when Syracusans found, 510 destroyed.329 For flatterers are of kind and stock of curious line;

cent on the final alpha. Windebank’s “ὡτακουϚὰσ” includes the proper word accent but has an incorrect rough-breathing mark, interchanges medial and terminal sigma, and omits the word’s second tau. 327. doubting . . . annoy fearing others’ vexation; “nullos non suspectos habens” (regarding nobody as unsuspicious). annoy Windebank’s “mo” (more) regularizes the meter but changes the sense. 328. Dionysians . . . folk Dionysians The Syracusan tyrants Dionysius I (ca. 430–367 B.C.E.) and Dionysius II (ca. 367–344 B.C.E.). fleering folk those who laugh or smile fawningly; “delatores.” See our introduction, p. 378. 329. in . . . destroyed in . . . state Erasmus reads “novatis rebus” (during the revolution), using the idiom “novare res” (to change the constitution of a state, to make a revolution). Elizabeth, however, construes the idiom word for word as ‘in the altered state of things.’ changedst most changed. destroyed Elizabeth follows the reading in Estienne’s edition, “occiderunt” (killed). All other editions except Cornario’s read “expulerunt” (expelled).

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And Senthars two inquire What iVel another or ment or did Yea busy men iVen Wretched haps of neigbors thers do serche Euen suche as fals Vnto ther share though fur Vnloukt for was And to the Vulgar folke hit teL abrode suche neWes the haue And said hit is that Winngged folkes beare suche name of Curius vice for (as like it was that famine had athenes plaged nor oWnars Wold ther tha corn Vttar but in night and Secret did sort Grinde oute the did ther store Thes Walking about did note and marke ther Wmilles noys to Wiche ther names Wer giuen them aliterij propar thise for suchz [520] Of Like Cause the say Wer Sycoφantz caLd and so surnamed For Whan by LaW hit Was forbid that no man shuld dare figues transport Suche as them found and broght to Light bar the Sicoφantz name Yea and that Wer not unfit for Curius folke to Shame them the more If they KnoWe them giLty of Like suche and Cosin Like andeuor as the do hold Wiche hated most and Griuous are to aL that the dwe haunt

330. scenters . . . meant scenters persons who smell out or detect something, rendering “sycophantae” (informers). Windebank misconstrues the word as “Southars” (soothsayers). t[o]o Elizabeth wrote “two,” a penslip. Her “And . . . too” renders “Ac . . . quidem” (And what is more). or either. meant intended, be resolved upon; “decrevit” (decided upon). 331. Yea . . . were Plutarch is distinguishing between informers, who pry into others’ intentions, and busybodies, who concern themselves with their neighbors’ misfortunes, however unintended. 332. to . . . folk Cognate rendering of “in vulgus” (in public, publicly). 333. “wing’d folks” “Aliterii.” Erasmus transliterates and declines as a Latin noun Plutarch’s “ἀλιτήριοι” (transgressors 523B). Elizabeth construes Erasmus’s term as deriving from “ales, alitis” (winged). Plutarch’s claim that the term derives from the Greek verb ‘ἀλέω’ (to grind) is lost in Erasmus’s Latin and, consequently, in Elizabeth’s English. 334. as . . . utter as . . . ’twas as it probably was; “ut est verisimile.” Plutarch reads, by contrast, “λέγεται” (it is said 523A). utter sell. 335. out Omitted by Windebank, thus smoothing the meter.

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And scenters, t[o]o, inquire what evil another or meant330 or did. Yea, busy men, ev’n wretched haps of neighbors theirs do search, Ev’n such as falls unto their share, though far unlooked-for were;331 And, to the vulgar folk,332 it tell abroad such news, they have; And, said it is, that “wing’d folks”333 bear such name, of curious vice, For, as like ’twas that famine had Athens plagued, nor owners would their corn utter,334 But, in night and secret sort, grind out335 they did their store; These, walking about, did note and mark their mills’ noise: To which, their names were giv’n—“aliterii”336—proper for such. 520 Of like cause, they say, were sycophants337 called, and so surnamed; For when by law it was forbid, that no man should figs transport, Such as them found, and brought to light, bare sycophants’ name.338 Yea, that were not unfit for curious folk, to shame339 them the more; If they know them guilty of such and like endeavor as they hold, 340 Which hated most, and grievous are, to all that they haunt.341

336. “aliterii” “Aliteriis”; see n333. 337. sycophants “sycophantae.” 338. sycophants’ name “sycophantarum cognomen.” Erasmus fails to convey Plutarch’s derivation of “συκοφάνται” from “σῦκα” (figs) and “φαίνοντες” (revealers 523B). 339. shame “pudeat.” Windebank misreads as “shunne.” 340. If . . . hold If they [busybodies] were to know themselves to be guilty of an endeavor similar and akin to what they [sycophants] continue to pursue. Erasmus reads “si cogitent sese simili cognatoque studio teneri, quo tenentur hi” (if they [busybodies] were to consider themselves held captive by an endeavor similar and akin to what they [sycophants] are held captive by). hold continue (to pursue). Elizabeth’s verb choice is evidently based on Erasmus’s two uses of “tenere” (to hold), although both of his uses are passive and have the particular force here of ‘held captive by, be controlled by.’ 341. they haunt Elizabeth’s addition. haunt associate with habitually, perhaps also with an implication of molesting (like an evil spirit).

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[Endorsement in Windebank’s secretary hand 15] 3. Nouember. 1598. anno. xlo. her Maiesties translation of a treatise of Curiositie written by Plutark. And putt into English miter. Begon the iijde of this Nouember, and ended the ixth of the same monith, and copied out by her Maiesties order to me the xiijto of November. [Later endorsement in an italic hand 16] Plutarks curioscity translated in to English by queene Elizabeth: this being the originall and all writt with her one hand. 15. Endorsement . . . hand This endorsement, like the leaves of the translation, was cut out and mounted on paper in the nineteenth century, then attached to the heavily corrected working draft in Elizabeth’s handwriting. The copy that she commanded Windebank to make survives as BL, MS Royal 17.A.44, fols. 1–12v, printed in modernized spelling by May, ed., Queen Elizabeth I, 296–314. In Windebank’s manuscript copy the text simply ends with no notation of any kind. 16. Later . . . hand This endorsement, likewise, has been cut out and mounted next to the preceding one.

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3 November 1598. Anno 40th. Her Majesty’s translation of a treatise “Of Curiosity,” written by Plutarch, and put into English meter. Begun the third of this November, and ended the ninth of the same month, and copied out by her Majesty’s order to me the thirteenth of November. Plutarch’s “Curiosity” translated into English by Queen Elizabeth: this being the original, and all writ with her own hand.

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queen elizabeth’s t r a n s l at i o n o f h o r a c e ’ s de arte poetica, lines 1 – 17 8

1598

figure 5 Elizabeth’s translation of Horace’s De arte poetica (ca. November 1598), lines 1–24. Reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, UK.

No indication of context or motive accompanies Elizabeth’s draft translation of the first 178 lines of Horace’s De arte poetica (Art of Poetry). The endorsement by her clerk Thomas Windebank records that he made a fair copy and gave it to her on November 4, 1598. Nothing further is known about the fair copy. Like the autograph portions of her Boethius and the Plutarch, Elizabeth’s Horace translation is written in her loosely formed italic hand, on sheets rife with her deletions, insertions, and restorations of wording. This is the prefinal condition of all of her late literary projects—including her twenty-seven unrhymed stanzas in French, composed ca. 1590. A major motive in Elizabeth’s decision to embark upon this translation of Horace must have been her broadly demonstrated attraction to working in verse in the 1590s. In translating the Ars poetica, Elizabeth was engaging, and in a sense claiming to have mastered, the most authoritative classical text on poetry, which circulated with numerous commentaries in the Renaissance.1 Horace’s principles and precepts imbue sixteenth-century conceptions of poetry. The highly accessible Ars poetica was more influential than its belated rival for authority in England, Aristotle’s Poet-

1. Thomas Drant published an English translation of Horace’s Art of Poetry, epistles, and satires into rhymed fourteener couplets in 1567. Although Drant had presented Elizabeth with laudatory verses on her visit to Cambridge University in 1564, her translation betrays no sign that she consulted his.

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ics, which tended to be read through a Horatian lens.2 As Horace represents it, poetry is a rhetorical craft that ideally combines the pleasant and the morally useful; its art includes unity, proper diction, the decorous fitting of style and meter to genre and character, and close affinities to painting. Sixteenth-century English humanists cited Horace respectfully in all these regards. His representation countered the tendency in the period to disparage poetry, especially poetry in English, as an unbefitting or frivolous diversion. In 1568 Roger Ascham, Elizabeth’s former tutor, then her Latin secretary, termed the Ars poetica “aureolum” (golden); in The Schoolmaster he cited several “precepts” of “wise” Horace, placing him beside Virgil as the supreme Latin poet.3 A younger generation of Elizabethan writers appealed to Horace in defending English imaginative writing. In 1579 Thomas Lodge cited lines 391–99 of the Ars poetica on poetry’s civilizing power. William Webbe’s Discourse of English Poetrie (1586) compounds quotations from Horace at critical junctures with a translation of George Fabricius’s Latin prose redaction of precepts derived from the Ars poetica and Horace’s other epistles on literary matters.4 Philip Sidney’s Defense of Poetry (1580s; published 1595) cites Horace several times, invokes him on poetry’s capacity “to teach and delight,” and builds on lines 309–18 of the Ars poetica regarding the use of didactic examples in poetry.5 In the “Apologie of Poetry” prefacing his translation of Ariosto (1591), Elizabeth’s godson John Harington likewise quotes Horace on poetry’s mixing of “the pleasant and the profitable.”6

2. See Bernard Weinberg, A History of Literary Criticism in the Renaissance, 2 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), 1:71–249; Ann Moss, “Horace in the Sixteenth Century,” in The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, vol. 3, The Renaissance, ed. Glyn P. Norton (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 66–76. 3. Roger Ascham, The Schoolmaster (1570), ed. Lawrence V. Ryan (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia for Folger Shakespeare Library, 1967), pp. 54, 139, 145. For “aureolum,” see the letter to Johannes Sturm in Roger Ascham, Whole Works, ed. Rev. Dr. Giles, 3 vols. in 4 (London, 1864–65), 2:188. 4. See Thomas Lodge, A Defence of Poetry (1579) and William Webbe, A Discourse of English Poetrie (1586), in Elizabethan Critical Essays, ed. G. Gregory Smith, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1904), 1:74, 230, 234, 250–52, 290–98. 5. Philip Sidney, An Apology for Poetry, ed. Geoffrey Shepherd (London: Nelson, 1965), 120, 101, 135, and the editor’s discussion on 66–70. 6. See John Harington, A Preface, or rather a Briefe Apologie of Poetrie (1591), in Elizabethan Critical Essays, ed. Smith, 2:208.

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In 1598, the year that Elizabeth translated Horace, Richard Haydock published an English translation of Giovanni Lomazzo’s Italian treatise on the arts of painting, sculpture, and architecture (1584). Extending Horace’s comparison of painting and poetry, Lomazzo applies Horatian categories for poetry to the visual arts.7 In the preface to his translation of Lomazzo, Haydock invited Nicholas Hilliard, the celebrated English painter of miniatures, to declare his views. Hilliard responded with his unpublished Treatise concerning the Art of Limning, which reveals Elizabeth’s own interest in Horatian concepts of art. He recounts what she had said to him regarding portraiture: “This makes me to remember the words also and reasoning of her Majesty, . . . that best to show oneself, needeth no shadow of place but rather the open light. To which I granted, and affirmed that . . . beauty and good favor is like clear truth, which is not shamed with the light, nor needs to be obscured.”8 Whether directly or indirectly drawing on Horace’s famous passage comparing poetry with painting (“ut pictura poesis” 361), Elizabeth extends to subjects of portraiture his evaluative contrast between two kinds of paintings: those that “love obscurity” (“amat obscurum”) and those that “wish to be seen in the light” (“volet . . . sub luce videri”) because they do not fear critical judgment (363–64). Elizabeth’s sense of propriety was undoubtedly gratified by the emphasis laid upon literary decorum in the 178 lines of the Ars poetica that she translated—upon what, in her rendering, is “fit” or “fitting” or “unfit” (93, 119, 121, 125, 132, 150). Horace associates literary decorum with respect for social hierarchy and the appropriate depiction of characters’ social rank and circumstances; Homer, according to Horace, shows how to depict “kings’ and chieftains’ acts” (85); regal tragic heroes deserve “worthiest verse” rather than the “meaner verse” befitting comic slaves (102–3). Throughout her reign Elizabeth expressed her own strong sense of what was and was not “meet” for a “prince” to say or do and an equally strong sense of what was (and was not) suitable for subjects: on these grounds in 1558 she upbraided Parliament for

7. See Rensselaer W. Lee, Ut Pictura Poesis: The Humanistic Theory of Painting (New York: W. W. Norton, 1967), 4, 18, 23–24, 32–33, 35, 71–72. 8. Nicholas Hilliard’s Art of Limning: A New Edition, ed. Arthur F. Kinney and Linda Bradley Salamon (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1983), 28–29. Hilliard painted several miniature portraits of Elizabeth. At this period he was receiving from her an annual pension of forty pounds.

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presuming to pronounce on matters “meet” and “fit” for her alone.9 According to a letter of 1597, Lady Mary Howard outraged her queen with behavior “unseemly” in a maid of honor.10 Although she sometimes misconstrues syntax, individual words, and references, Elizabeth in translating strives, in her usual fashion, to adhere closely to Horace’s sense and phrasing, without updating allusions or drawing explicit analogies between Augustan Rome and her own society. Yet her monarchical stamp registers in one detail. Horace describes three engineering feats performed at the behests of Julius and Augustus Caesar as “regis opus” (work of a king 65). In one of the few places where she expands her source, Elizabeth employs a pleonastic doublet to turn Horace’s brief phrase into a whole line: “Which is a work and act for kings” (76). In translating the first 178 lines of De arte poetica, which she slightly extends to 194 lines in English, Elizabeth again employs unrhymed iambic verse that ranges across a spectrum of line lengths, as short as three feet (six syllables) and as long as eight feet (sixteen syllables). As in her translations of Boethius and Plutarch, she offsets her twofold license of rhymelessness and flexible line length with fairly stringent formal controls to sustain the perceptibility of her iambic verse units. By far the most conspicuous control is the correspondence that she uniformly maintains between line endings and major syntactic boundaries. (One partial exception, the translation’s opening line, is a special case addressed below.) Headlessness and feminine endings are also markedly less frequent than in her Boethius and Plutarch; there are eight headless lines, five lines with feminine endings, and two lines that combine headlessness with feminine endings.11 The Horace translation presents the following unambiguous instances of line lengths: seven lines of six syllables, nineteen lines of eight syllables, thirty-three lines of ten syllables, fifty lines of twelve syllables, eleven lines of fourteen syllables, and three lines of sixteen syllables. This distribution is, however, misleading because it does not take into account the change in the patterning of Elizabeth’s verse units 9. CW, 79, 93. 10. Nugae Antiquae: Being a Miscellaneous Collection of Original Papers in Prose and Verse. By Sir John Harington, 2 vols. (London and Bath, 1769–75), 1:75. 11. Headlessness occurs in lines 78, 165, 172, 176, 179, 183, 187, and 188. Feminine endings are found in lines 9, 44, 116, 181, and 189. Lines 177 and 178 exhibit the meter-breaking combination, in iambics, of headlessness and feminine endings.

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that occurs between two consecutive unindented lines in the turn from recto to verso of fol. 84 (lines 31–32). In the first thirty-one lines, sixsyllable and eight-syllable lines—the typical subunits of the poulter’s measure and fourteener with their midline caesural breaks—predominate. All seven of the six-syllable lines occur in the first twelve lines, where in all but one instance they alternate with line units of eight or six syllables, and eleven of the nineteen eight-syllable lines occur in these first thirty-one lines. In the following sections, by contrast, line units of ten, twelve, and fourteen syllables predominate. This distributional pattern suggests that the long-line units of the fourteener and of the poulter’s measure—whether laid out in half-lines (as in the opening section) or in full lines (as in the bulk of the translation)—are again serving Elizabeth as a flexible compositional norm, with lines of eight to sixteen syllables regarded as acceptable variations. Her probable conception of the opening two lines of eight and six syllables as a split fourteener helps to account for the first line as the only one in the entire translation that does not end with a major syntactic boundary: “If to man’s head, a painter would / A horse’s neck conjoin.” Such a flexible compositional norm no doubt appealed to Elizabeth as a plausible approximation of Horace’s dactylic hexameters, which themselves range from twelve to seventeen syllables, presenting a highly varied and nuanced model of versification. In his verse epistles Horace sought conversational informality, primarily through the use of enjambment, often beginning a new clause at the very end of a line and producing artful disjunctions between syntactic boundaries and the metrical pattern.12 Yet enjambed lines are offset by ones that coincide with phrase structure, typically offering succinct precepts, striking images, or witty aphorisms. As she seeks to track Horace’s sense closely within her own heavily end-stopped lines, Elizabeth cannot replicate the syntactic contours of his enjambments. In ninety instances, however, she matches one Horatian line with one of her own. There are only three syntactically self-contained lines in Horace (5, 23, and 98) that she does not render as a single line, and only two if one excludes Horace’s line 5, rendered by her lines 7 and 8, which can easily be construed as a split twelve-syllable line. Elizabeth effectively imitates Horace’s use of end-stopped lines for precept or sententious wit in such lines as “Let all 12. See Roland Mayer’s introduction to Horace, Epistles: Book 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 13–14, 24–25.

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things be, as sorteth best their place” (104; Horace 92); “Words fair do not suffice; let them be sweet, / And such as, where they will, may turn the hearers’ ears” (112–13; Horace 99–100); “Then must thou mark the manners of each age” (168; Horace 156); “The hills their fruit do yield: a scornèd mouse is born” (151; Horace 139). Elizabeth’s translation advances in crisply articulated segments that capture Horace’s spirited advice and sharp judgments. As in her earlier verse translations, Elizabeth makes frequent use of metrical contraction (fifty-nine instances) and comparatively less use of metrical expansion (fifteen instances) to regularize her iambic rhythm.13 More often than in the Boethius and Plutarch translations, single lines of the Horace translation combine contraction and expansion with feminine endings or headlessness. The simultaneous appearance of two or more of these features sometimes infuses a line with vivacity and sensory immediacy. With Horace as source, Elizabeth displays a newly venturesome poetic wit. Thus, negative judgment is passed on an inferior caster of bronze: “For wanting of skill, to picture all he cannot” (44). Contraction on “-ting’ of ” creates a metrical pun by shorting a syllable while declaring skill in short supply. The feminine ending of the line figures either the bronze caster’s weakness (if the stress value is “cánnot”) or his complete ineptitude (if the stress value is “cannót”). Elsewhere, positive judgment is passed on the effects of draining the Pomptine marshes, which “Feed the cities near, and makes them feel the plow’s weight” (78). The fourteener line is headless; likewise, the marshes have shrunk. But metrical expansion to make “plow’s” disyllabic figures the new “weight” borne by the newly stabilized ground which now produces foodstuffs for the cities. 13. Instances of metrical contraction include po’et (14); one’ or (20); will’st (30); -ther’ and, -thy’ your (32); Aemil’ius (41); with’ his (42); -ing’ of (44); evil=ill (46); el’ quence (51); Yea’ and (59); Caecil’ius (64); Cato’ and, Enn’ius’ (67); Wheth’r (74); wheth’r (77); -li’est (81); fall’n (82); rev’renced (83); On’ whose (84); -med’ans (92); -t’iest (94); gods’ and (95); wrestler’ and (96); worth’iest (102); poor’st (103); Chrem’s (106); Tel’phus (108); Evil = Ill (117); s’vere (120); wheth’r, Davus’ or (127); age’or (128); Assyri’a (131); foll’w (132); grantless’ and (133); for’him (135); wand’ring (136); to’ the (137); hard’ it (140); rightl’ier (141); oth’r (145); cycl’us (148); Scylla’ and (157); ru’in (158); E’er (160); list’ner’s (161); t’ grace (162); foll’w (172); many’an (174); glori’ous (179); t’ honor (181); war’ng (182); -ny’a (183); wretch’ he (184); th’use (185); idle’ and, greedy’ of (187); giv’n (192). Instances of metrical expansion include joinèd (14); leavë (15); ploügh’s (78); streäm (79); Ragë (91); halvèd (110); waïl (116); ripèd (128); praisë (133); surë (145); scornèd (151); agèd (183); passèd (191); agèd (192); bequeathèd (193).

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For some earlier lines, the autograph manuscript offers an interesting glimpse of Elizabeth in the process of revision. On one side of a page (fol. 87r), she ended a translation session with her rendering of Horace’s line 127, “Such as thou first hast formed, to end keep still” (139), but not before she had drawn a line through its first five words. The rest of this page and its backside are blank except for a single line in Windebank’s hand, “Such as thou first began, look to the end thou keep,” written directly underneath Elizabeth’s truncated line. The new wording brings the line closer to Horace’s Latin. The earlier phrase “first hast formed” looks like an inadvertent repetition of “formare novam” (to form a new) from the preceding line in Horace (126), which she had already translated as “new . . . perform” (138). The new wording, “first began,” renders the proper phrase in Horace’s line, “ab incepto” (from the beginning 127). Taking note of her repetition, Elizabeth evidently instructed Windebank to insert her revision of line 139. The final twenty lines of Elizabeth’s fragmentary translation read as if they were left for revising until the time when she would resume her translating of the rest of Horace’s text. In these lines, the clustering of seven of the ten instances of headlessness, two of them accompanied by two of the seven cases of feminine endings, suggests an unfinished state of composition. Yet certain of these metrical irregularities are arguably expressive. Corresponding lines in Horace offer comic vignettes of masculine youth and age: the boy who will be a boy, the old man who cannot be anything but an old man. Elizabeth portrays the uncontrolled and uncontrollable youth in lines that avoid unmetricality only by lavish recourse to poetic license (175–79). We underline metrical contractions, italicize righted stress inversions, indicate headlessness and feminine endings by an (x) at line beginning or line ending, and note within square brackets the effect on syllable count: The beardless youth (at last, master cast off ) [10; inversion dubiously righted] (x) Joys in horses, dogs, and grass of open field; [12, headless] (x) Waxlike, rolled to vice; to teacher currish; (x) [10, headless and feminine] (x) Late foreseer of good, of his pence too lavish; (x) [12, headless and feminine] (x) Haughty, glorious, swift-winged to leave that he loved. [12, headless]

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These lines massively subvert iambic rhythm, but they evoke an orgy of adolescent energy. Trochaic rhythm sets in, significantly, with the phrase “master cast off ” and continues unimpeded through four full lines. In an effective contrast, through a feebler return of trochaic rhythm in two successive headless lines, Elizabeth figures the old man who can only fitfully mimic his youthful riotousness in his second childhood (187–88): (x) Slothful, a vain hoper; idle; and greedy of change; [13 to 11, headless] (x) Crabbed; whining; the praiser of past time. [9, headless]

While such prosodic extremes as these are defensible as tools of satire, it is unclear whether Elizabeth would have allowed lines so irregular to stand. Her translation breaks off with a vague exhortation, “Let us abide in such as best agree, and in their time” (194). This only obliquely catches Horace’s gist, that the poet should endow his characters with traits suited to their age. The exactions of her effort may have wearied Elizabeth. In any event, she left her translation of the Ars poetica as a fragment. We conclude with remarks on the Renaissance edition of the Ars that Elizabeth used, which evidently contained three particular variant readings.14 Her line “For much it doth avail whether Davus or Eros speaks” (127) renders the version of Horace’s line 114 first proposed by the French humanist Denys Lambin in 1561 to resolve a famous crux: “Intererit multum Davus ne loquatur, Eros ne” (It will make a great difference whether Davus or Eros speaks). Other Renaissance editions offered alternative construals of the contrast drawn in this line between characters and their speech, most often contrasting “Davus” (the name of a wily, mendacious slave in Roman comedy) with “heros” (a hero), and less often contrasting “divus” (a god) and “heros” (a hero), the alternative generally adopted in modern editions. Lambin, however, lengthily explains that “Davus” contrasts with the simple, faithful comic slave “Eros.” Between the first Lyon edition of 1561 and 1598, the date of Elizabeth’s translation, at least eleven continental editions con-

14. We build on textual discussion by Leicester Bradner, who realized the significance of the first two of our three variants but was unable to find a text that contained them both; see Leicester Bradner, ed., The Poems of Queen Elizabeth I (Providence: Brown University Press, 1964), 87.

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taining Lambin’s text and notes were published. His proposed wording of the line, though much less popular than the two mentioned above, was also adopted or noted as a variant in other Renaissance editions.15 Elizabeth must have used one of these later editions by an editor other than Lambin, for she also translates a variant not in Lambin and explicitly rejected in his commentary. Her “force and form of speech” (84) renders “vis et norma loquendi” (the force and standard of speech 72), a variant found in far fewer Renaissance editions than the still current reading “ius et norma loquendi” (the law and standard of speech) adopted by Lambin and the majority of other Renaissance editors. Finally, Elizabeth must also have used an edition that printed “expes” for “exspes” in line 20, a common orthographic variant for “exspes” (without hope) that appears randomly in Renaissance texts: three of the ten Lambin editions consulted, for example, read “expes,” the other seven “exspes.”16 Elizabeth’s “footless” (26) clearly misconstrues “expes” as “ex-pes” (without foot). While several editions have one or two of the relevant variants, we have found only one edition with all three variants in its main text, a 1598 Wittenberg edition published by Johann Crato.17 A 1564 Venice edition (2nd ed., 1570) from the Aldine press, credited to MarcAntoine Muret and Gian Michele Bruto, is a less likely alternative; it reads “expes” and “vis” but offers Lambin’s “Davusne . . . Erosne” in the margin as an alternative to its main text reading of “Davus” and “heros.” Without Lambin’s justification, it seems unlikely that Elizabeth would have chosen the “Eros” reading if it was not in the main text in her source. Additionally, the 1598 Wittenberg edition has a misprint we have found in no other edition, which helps to explain one of Elizabeth’s more obscure renderings. Her line 146, “Nor . . . shalt thou sample thyself in act,” translates Horace’s line 134: “nec desilies imita15. We have consulted ten editions credited to Lambin from 1561 to 1596, twenty-five other continental editions of the Ars poetica that appeared between 1561 and 1598, and four London editions of Horace published between 1574 and 1592. These represent about two-thirds of the editions of Ars poetica between 1561 and 1598 listed in Quintus Horatius Flaccus Editions in the United States and Canada (Berkeley: Mills College / University of California Press, 1938), 16–24; and Ernest Kletsch, Quintus Horatius Flaccus: Editions Not Located in the United States (Washington, DC: Mimeoform Services, 1937), 6–12. 16. The 1561 Lyon edition and Venice editions (1565, 1566) read “expes,” while the Paris editions (1567, 1568, 1579, 1580, 1587), and Frankfurt editions (1577, 1596) read “exspes.” 17. Qvintvs Horativs Flaccvs, ex fide atque auctoritate veterum codicum (Wittenberg, 1598).

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tor in arctum” (nor as an imitator should you leap down into a narrow space—i.e., do not paint yourself into a corner). The Wittenberg edition prints “actum” (act) instead of “arctum” (modern spelling, “artum”) or ‘narrow space.’ Elizabeth’s “act” evidently translates “actum.” While she misreads words too often in translating to justify taking this misprint as proof that she used the Wittenberg edition, the combination of its three variants and the misprint make it extremely likely that it served as her source. We can speculate further that Elizabeth’s fragmentary translation of the Ars poetica in 1598 was at least partly inspired by her acquisition of a Horace edition published that year.

Queen Elizabeth’s fragmentary translation of Horace’s De arte poetica, ca. November 1598 (original-spelling version)1 Who If to mans hed a paintar Wold a a horsis necK ConJoine and Coulored fethers ad therto With Limmes togither set That face aboue of Woman faire the rest shuld foLloW ende Like end Lik OugLy the rest foL fowle Like the OugLy moudy fische my frindz could you f for suche a hap, my frendz Could you your Laughter Kipe beliue me Pisons like euen to this table shal be any book be LiKe Whos Vane s shapis shalbe faind as sik mans dreames be Wont So that as nor faote ne hed in one agrie on Joind power bold the poet and paintar had

[10]

1. Source: Kew, Surrey,The National Archives, State Papers, 12 / 289, fols. 84r–88v. This rough draft is written (except for line 139, as noted below) in Elizabeth’s late, loosely formed italic hand. The date derives from Windebank’s endorsement at the end of the text. The manuscript, showing jagged and otherwise worn margins throughout, was cut into segments at a later date to facilitate its mounting on paper. 1. With . . . set Adorned (now obsolete sense of “set”) with limbs gathered together; “undique collatis membris” (with limbs collected from everywhere). 2. That . . . fair So that (“ut” 3) the face above is of a woman fair.

Queen Elizabeth’s fragmentary translation of Horace’s De arte poetica, ca. November 1598 (modern-spelling version) If, to man’s head, a painter would A horse’s neck conjoin, And colored feathers add thereto, With limbs together set;1 That face above, of woman fair,2 The rest, foul like the muddy3 fish: For such a hap, my friends, Could you your laughter keep? Believe me, Pisos, even to this table4 Shall any book be like, Whose vain shapes shall be fained As sick man’s dreams be wont, So as nor foot nor head, in one, agree. “One joinèd power bold,5 the poet and painter had.”

10

3. muddy “atrum” (black 3). 4. Pisos . . . table Pisos Horace (6) addresses a father and two sons of the Piso family, as indicated in line 32 below, but their further identification remains uncertain. The surname was a common one. table picture, painting; “tabulae” (paintings 6). 5. “One . . . bold Loosely renders “quidlibet audendi . . . aequa potestas” (equal power— i.e., right—to dare anything 10).

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We knoWe this Leue axe and giue the same not so thate Wild and tame do fiere Nor of the birdz that Serpentz bride Nor Lambes fal from the Tigres tetes Oft to beginnings graue and shewes of great is sowed [20] A purpLe pach or one or more to for VeWe Whan wood or aultar aultar Dians aultar aught be deserned drawn Or Crike of running Streames in fairist fildz Than paint the Riuer Rene, or rainbow seak but for aL thes here is no place You Can perchance the Cipers tree present What botes to pant for Gain a fote les man from broken from the Lost from broken KiLe to sWim to shore A pot fuL Large Was ment be maid hoW hapned then the While a pipkin framed? In fine Let be What so thou Wilst [30] So that hit plain and One remain Of poetes greatist Sorte greatest greatist part O father O father and youthes for such Worthy your Sire

AlL be begiled by shewe aLone of good While brife to be I Striue skars understode I am and treting matters sLite I feale my Strengh decay professing Causis dipe my shaLoWe mynd astons and Criping LoW on ground to safe yet fearing flawe

6. leave permission; “veniam” (indulgence 11). 7. Not so . . . Nor . . . Nor Not so that . . . nor so that . . . nor so that. fere mate—as verb. 8. lambs . . . teats The image is Elizabeth’s. Horace reads “geminentur” (should pair with 13). 9. creek . . . streams creek a turn or winding (of a river); “ambitus” (17). streams waters of a river (poetical). 10. When . . . seek Horace lists various nature scenes as examples of purple patches (14– 18). Elizabeth follows his general sense but adds the suggestion that some of these scenes go well together even though they are inappropriate in larger poetic contexts. 11. cypress . . . man Horace asserts the irrelevance of a cypress tree to a picture of a shipwrecked sailor (19–21); Elizabeth construes “what boots” as applying to the depiction of the sailor rather than that of the cypress. present represent; “simulare” (20). paint . . . gain A survivor of a shipwreck might commission such a picture as a votive offering in a

Horace’s De arte poetica

We know this leave,6 ask and give the same: Not so the wild and tame do fere; Nor of the birds, that serpents breed; Nor7 lambs fall from the tigers’ teats.8 Oft to beginnings grave, and shows of great, is sewed A purple patch, one or more, for view— When wood or altar (Dian’s) ought be drawn, Or creek of running streams9 in fairest fields, Then paint the river Rhine, or rainbow seek10— But, for all these, here is no place. You can, perchance, the cypress tree present. What boots to paint, for gain, a footless man,11 From broken keel, to swim to shore? A pot full large was meant be made; How happened, then, the wheel a pipkin12 framed? In fine, let be whatso thou will’st, So that it plain and one remain. Of poets greatest part, O father, and youths worthy your sire,13 All be beguiled by show, alone, of good. While brief to be I strive, scarce understood I am; And, treating matters slight,14 I feel my strength decay. Professing causes deep, my shallow mind astounds; And creeping low on ground too safe, yet fearing flaw.15

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temple. footless Elizabeth translates “expes” (20), in a Renaissance orthographic variant for “exspes” (without hope), as “ex-pes” (without foot). She apparently took Horace’s point to be the incongruity of painting a footless sailor swimming to shore. 12. pipkin a small earthenware pot or pan. 13. So . . . sire The turn from recto to verso of fol. 84 occurs between these two consecutive unindented lines. On the shift in Elizabeth’s verse pattern here, see our introduction, pp. 454–55. plain . . . one simple and uniform; “simplex . . . et unum” (23). 14. treating . . . slight “sectantem levia” (pursuing smoothness 26). Elizabeth mistakes “levia” with a long e, ‘smoothness,’ for “levia” with a short e, ‘lightness, slightness.’ 15. Professing . . . flaw While Horace shifts here to third-person locutions in contrasting a bombastic poet with a timorous one, Elizabeth continues to personalize the poetic speaker. flaw sudden burst or squall of wind, rendering “procellae” (of a storm 28); additionally, she puns on “flaw” as ‘defect.’

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Who so One thing expres in to to many sortes A dolϕin On the Woodz tries doth hange and bore in Stream So flight from fault fals into Lack for Want of art A Saely Smithe in Emilius Shoinge play in bras Wil nailes and silky heare With his pencil shape Vnhappy man in Chifist part of Worke for Wanting of skil t to pictur alL he can not SeLf same am I if aught I striue Compound No More I Wische than wondar mad of euil formd nose Or VeW of blackist yee With here of Likist hue Take you that write a matter such as equalz mo best your skiL and Long do you pause On What your shuldars doe refuse Or What the beare may best Who that that he reades chase best understands nor ELoquence shal he Want nor ordar cLeare for Grace and Vertu shal the him he place or I am fur fur I am beyond So that as What noW be said ons or What hirafter shaulld Muche he defars and for the present time Omitz this Loue hae doth this skorn Of promised Vers the skribe In pLacing Wordz if thou be skant and Wary at ech bothe the spiche shal florische WeL and be estemed Yea if neWe Word for Old WeL sodaered thou do pLace Yea and nide be With neW sheWe the hiden gone expound To frame may hap some Wordz girdled Cethes had nothing Lackd

[40]

[50]

[60]

16. express . . . sorts express portray, delineate. into . . . sorts Horace reads “prodigialiter” (unnaturally 29), which Elizabeth perhaps confused with “prodigaliter” (extravagantly, wastefully), a medieval variant of classical “prodige.” 17. lack defect, fault, failing; “vitium” (31). 18. silly . . . showing-play silly weak, deficient; “imus” (lowest 32). Ancient, Renaissance, and modern commentators disagree about the sense of this adjective in this context. Like many commentators, Elizabeth construes it as an evaluation of the “faber” or workman as ‘lowest’ in skill or esteem. in . . . showing-play “Aemilium circa ludum” (around the gladiatorial school of Aemilius 32). showing-play enacted spectacle. Elizabeth probably construes “Aemilium . . . ludum” as referring to a public game or theatrical show, a common sense of “ludus.” 19. Selfsame . . . compound Horace’s comparison describes what he would not wish to be: a poet as inept as the craftsman (35–36). Elizabeth takes the comparison as a selfdeprecating expression of possibility. strive strive to. compound compose, rendering the cognate “componere” (35). 20. No . . . evil-formed No . . . made I no more wish to be like this smith in his work than to have a wonder made of my unattractive features. Horace says (36–37) that he does

Horace’s De arte poetica

Whoso one thing express, into too many sorts,16 A dolphin on the trees doth hang, and boar in stream. So flight from fault falls into lack,17 from want of art. A silly smith in Aemilius’s showing-play,18 in brass Will nails and silky hair with his pencil shape; Unhappy man, in chiefest part of work, For, wanting of skill, to picture all he cannot. Selfsame am I, if aught I strive compound:19 No more I wish than wonder made, of evil-formed20 nose, Or view of blackest eye, with hair of likest hue. Take, you that write, a matter such as equals best your skill; And long do pause, on what your shoulders do refuse, Or what they bear may, best. Who, that21 he chose, best understands, Nor eloquence shall he want, nor order clear. For grace and virtue shall he place (or far I am beyond),22 So as, what now be said, or what hereafter should, Much he defers and, for the present time, omits; This, love he doth; this, scorn—of promised verse, the scribe. In placing words, if thou be scant23 and wary both, The speech shall flourish well and be esteemed.24 Yea, if new word for old, well-soldered25 thou do place; Yea, and need be, with new show the hidden gone26 expound, To frame may hap some word girdled Cethegi lacked:27

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not want to be admired for his black eyes and hair if he has an ugly nose. Elizabeth treats all three features as bad. evil-formed The meter suggests monosyllabic pronunciation of “evil” as “ill.” 21. that that which. 22. (or . . . beyond) or I am off course, out of the right way; “aut ego fallor” (or I mistake 42). 23. scant “tenuis” (46), which can mean ‘scant,’ but here connotes ‘fine’ or ‘subtle.’ 24. The . . . esteemed A pleonastic rendering of “dixeris egregie” (you will express yourself well 47). 25. well-soldered Elizabeth’s metaphor suits “callida . . . iunctura” (skillful joining 47–48). 26. hidden gone A pleonastic rendering of “abdita” (49), which can means both ‘hidden, concealed’ and ‘removed, banished.’ Modern commentators explain “abdita” as meaning ‘hidden’ in the sense of ‘never expressed before’—hence, ‘new.’ 27. girdled . . . lacked “cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis” (unheard of by the loincloth-wearing Cethegi 50). The cinctus was a loincloth worn under the toga by early Roman men before the tunic was adopted. The Cethegi are men of a prior age like M. Cor-

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A Licence thou With shamfast Leue must take The neW made Wordes and faned Like Credit beares If from the Grikis spring the softly faL the doune be WithdraWen but What shal Romane giue to Plauto and Cecelius romane what to Plauto and CeciLius shal he giue

If from of from Varios Leue or Virgil hit be Pluckt Raught Why if I litheL Get, nide enuid I to be / Whan Caton and Ennius toung inriched thir Countrey the Mother thir country spiche

And neW names to ther matters Gaue hit LaWfuL is and euer shaL a word assigne by mark to knoW As Primar Leues of Wood first faule and changed be to nirest year [70] So oeldred age of Wordz turnes so to ther decay And young men Like the borne first florische and and increas To deth We oWe Ourselues and alL We haue Whethere Neptune to by erthe be receued and Leadeth sraynith in by Sothern northern Winde the Sailing ships Which is a Worke and act for kings: Or Wither duringe a coustumed marische fit for ores fede the Cities nere and makes his them feale the ploWes Waight Or streame change the Cours the fo to frutes by Learning bettar Way. AlL mortaL dede shaL end [80]

nelius Cethegus, the third-century B.C.E. consul and orator described by Cicero as the first major Roman orator with surviving examples of his eloquence (Brutus 14.57–60). 28. softly in small quantity; “parce” (sparingly 53). 29. what . . . raught what “quid” (53), better translated here as ‘why.’ Plautus . . . Virgil Horace complains that allowances are made for long-dead writers like Plautus and Caecilius but not for his contemporaries Varius and Virgil. Plautus Roman comic dramatist (ca. 251–184 B.C.E.). Caecilius After Plautus, the chief Roman dramatist. Varius Roman poet of elegy, epic, and tragedy (end of first century B.C.E.). Virgil Roman poet celebrated for his Eclogues, Georgics, and Aeneid (70–19 B.C.E.). raught snatched. 30. if . . . get “acquirere pauca / si possum” (55–56) can mean ‘if I can get a few things,’ but the context suggests ‘if I can add a few things’—i.e., a few new words. 31. Cato . . . tongue Cato Early orator, prose writer, soldier, and office-holder (234– 149 B.C.E.), who, in the office of censor in 184, sought to reform the luxury, extravagance, and lax morals of the Roman aristocracy. Ennius’ tongue Early Latin poet (239– 169 B.C.E.), whose Annales in hexameters (now a fragmentary work) expressed a patriotic faith in Rome’s political and moral greatness.

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A license thou, with shamefast leave, must take. The new-made words, and feigned, like credit bears, If from the Greekish spring they softly28 be withdrawn. But, Roman, what to Plautus and Caecilius shall he give, If, from Varius, leave—or Virgil—it be raught?29 Why, if I little get,30 need envied I to be, When Cato and Ennius’ tongue31 enriched their country’ speech, And new names to their matters gave? It lawful is, and ever shall, a word assign by mark to know.32 As primer leaves of wood first fall, and change to nearest year,33 70 So eldered age of words turns, so, to their decay, And, young-men-like, the born-first flourish and increase. To death we owe ourselves, and all we have: Whether Neptune by earth be received, And reineth in, by Northern wind, the sailing ships, Which is a work and act for kings;34 Or whether accustomed marshes, fit for oars, Feed the cities near, and makes them feel the plow’s weight;35 Or stream change the course, the foe to fruits,36 By learning better way: all mortal deed shall end, 80

32. ever . . . know ever shall ever shall be. assign to assign—in either of two senses: ‘to appoint, designate’ or ‘to present, display.’ Evidently Elizabeth had difficulty with “signatum praesente nota producere nomen” (to issue a word stamped with a mark of the present 59). 33. primer . . . year primer first in time; “prima” (61). nearest year Like some modern editions, Renaissance editions read “pronos . . . annos” (declining years 60), which Elizabeth seems to understand as “proximos . . . annos.” 34. work . . . kings Expands “regis opus” (work of a king 65). This is the first (63–64) of three examples of human prowess in engineering works carried out under Julius Caesar or Augustus Caesar: the construction of the Julian harbor on the Campanian coast, which connected two lakes by means of a deep channel and removed a sandbar to make one lake accessible to seafaring ships. 35. Or . . . weight The second example is the draining of the Pomptine marshes. makes . . . feel makes the marshes feel; “palus . . . sentit” (the marsh feels 65–66). 36. Or . . . fruits “seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis” (or a river has changed the course that was inimical to the earth’s fruits 67). The third example is the straightening of the Tiber’s course to protect Rome from floods.

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Ne shaL Our Wordz hau knowe honour augh nor LiVelist grace Muche shal renue that haue bine Fallen and than decay Suche Wordz as haue bine honou reuerenst WeL if Vse hit grant On Whos beck bothe fors and fourme of spiche dependz hoW kingz and Chiftanes actz and eke ther bloudy dolefuL War In Verse hoW the mighte be in numbar be exprest Homere hasth told wWith ounIVend Vers linKed Vers at first Linked with w a mone the made but after Winning Wische ther Verdit the haue Won What author yet WiL Simple Eglogss Leue the Grammers mastars striue yet iuge the Verdit kepes [90] Rage With his oWne stiLe ArChilochus hath armed thos manner Vers the Comidantz2 and tragike bothe began WeL fitting for the Wordz for bothe excidang Vulgar Shoutes And mitist for the greatist Waightist Cause Our muse Comitz to stringe both Godz and ther race the Winning WrastLar and hors the first at stop And teLz the Youngemens Cares and franck at Wines Thes changis to obserue and Coulors sheWed of Work If I knoWe not nor Can Why Poete am I called

2. Comidantz comedians—a no longer current variant form. 37. know . . . aught “nedum . . . stet” (much less . . . endure 69). 38. both . . . speech Like some other Renaissance editions, the 1598 Wittenberg edition reads “et vis et norma loquendi” (the force and pattern of speech 72). Like modern editions, most Renaissance editions read “ius” (law) rather than “vis” (force). form model, pattern; “norma” (pattern). 39. With . . . verse “versibus impariter iunctis” (in verses yoked unequally 75). The allusion is to the elegiac couplet, composed of a hexameter and a pentameter, whose earliest use was probably in laments. 40. after . . . won “post etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos” (afterward the expression of thanks for a granted prayer was also included 76). Elizabeth construes Horace’s “sententia”—here, ‘expression’—in one of its common senses as a judicial sentence or “verdict,” which she puts in pleonastic apposition to “winning wish.” Her gist, then, is “Later they [put into elegiacs] their granted wish, that is, the positive verdict that they won.” 41. What . . . keeps Grammarians dispute whom they should credit as the inventor of the humble eclogue or pastoral poem; a literary arbiter withholds judgment. While Horace continues his treatment of elegiac meter, Elizabeth moves to discuss the pastoral eclogue. Her focus responds to the importance of pastoral in court culture and to the pastoral cult of Elizabeth herself, as exemplified in Edmund Spenser’s “April” eclogue in The Shepheardes Calendar (1579). author inventor. will . . . leave will allow (i.e., to be credited

Horace’s De arte poetica

Nor shall our words know honor aught,37 nor liveliest grace. Much shall renew that have been fall’n, and then decay Such words as have been rev’renced well, if use it grant, On whose beck, both force and form of speech38 depends. How kings’ and chieftains’ acts, and eke their doleful war, In verse, how they in number be expressed, Homer hath told. With unevened, linked verse39 at first a moan they made, But after, winning wish, their verdict they have won.40 What author, yet, will simple eclogues leave: The grammar’s masters strive, yet judge the verdict keeps.41 Rage, with his own style,42 Archilochus hath armed; Those manner verse, the comedians and tragic,43 both began, Well-fitting words for both, exceeding vulgar shouts,44 And meetest for the greatest, weightiest cause.45 Our Muse commits to string, both gods and their race, The winning wrestler, and horse (the first at stoop);46 And tells the young men’s cares, and frank at wines.47 These changes to observe, and colors showed, of work— If I know not, nor can, why poet am I called?48

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as the genre’s inventor). simple eclogues “exiguos elegos” (light elegiacs). strive debate, dispute. 42. with . . . style i.e., in iambics. Elizabeth does not translate “iambo” in “proprio . . . iambo” (79). 43. comedians . . . tragic A paraphrase of “socci . . . grandesque coturni” (comic “socks” and tragic “high buskins” 80). Elizabeth does not attempt to reproduce Horace’s pun on a metrical “foot,” or “pes,” that fits a “sock” and a “buskin.” 44. Well-fitting . . . shouts Well-fitting . . . both “alternis aptum sermonibus” (fit for alternate speech—i.e., dramatic dialogue 81). Elizabeth evidently understood “alternis . . . sermonibus” as referring to comedy and tragedy. exceeding . . . shouts “popularis / vincentem strepitus” (overcoming the rumbling of the crowd 81–82). 45. for . . . cause “rebus agendis” (for action 82). 46. first . . . stoop) first to reach the (end) post; “certamine primum” (first in the race 84). stoop (alternative spelling “stulp”) pillar, post (now dialectal). 47. frank . . . wines “libera vina” (free wine 85), which, by a common Horatian transfer, signifies ‘wine that makes one free.’ Elizabeth’s phrasing appears to work similarly: the “young men” are “frank”—free from restraint—at their wine-drinking. 48. These . . . called? “descriptas servare vices operumque colores / cur ego si nequeo ignoroque poeta salutor?” (These well-marked shifts and shades of works, if I cannot observe, and do not understand, why am I hailed as a poet? 86–87).

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A by Sely shame Chuse not to knoWe than sike to Lerne [100] A mery pLay WoLd not admit a tragik Vers Thiestes scene disdaines that wordiest Vers decerues be told in menar Verse or by pourist Comidant Let all things be as sortheth best ther pLace Yet Comedie Sometime Lifts Vp the Voice And Angry wrothful Cremes With puffed sface fighths And tragicke often mones in sLaVy gise TeLeϕus eke Pilius Why poore and exul bothe aWay the throw the thes Windblowen Vase [110] And halVed quarterd Vers if the n Do Care so muche With mone the Loukars on to moue the Loukars on to moue to strike If Care3 the do the With mone the Loukars on to moVe faire presis Vordes faire do not Suffice Let them be swite And suche as Wher the WyL may turn the hirars Eares As mery man them the please So WaiLing man Contentz the milddy Lookes, if teares myne thou procure Thy selfe must Waile so shal thy misfortune yerk me IVel if you do your biddings place O teleϕus or Pelius or I shal slipe or Laughtar make

3. If Care After carrying out an extensive deletion, Elizabeth repeated this phrase from line 110. The pattern of line lengths indicates, however, that the phrase belongs in the earlier position. 49. By . . . than By Why by. Horace begins two consecutive lines (87, 88) with “cur”; Elizabeth’s second “why” is implicit. than rather than. 50. Thyestes’ . . . comedian Thyestes’ scene—a major theme in Greek tragedy involving his dining unawares on the flesh of his infant sons, served to him by his brother Atreus—disdains that it, which deserves worthiest verse, be told in lowly verse by the paltriest comic actor. scene “coena” (banquet 91), evidently mistaken in this context for “scoena,” a common period spelling of “scena” (scene). in . . . comedian A free rendering of “privatis ac prope socco / dignis carminibus” (in verses of ordinary life and almost befitting the comic sock 90–91). 51. Chremes . . . face Chremes A conventional angry father in Roman comedy. with . . . face “tumido . . . ore” (94), which could mean ‘with swelling face’ but in this context suggests ‘in swelling speech.’ 52. in . . . Pelias in . . . guise “sermone pedestri” (in pedestrian—i.e., prosaic— speech 95). Telephus A son of Hercules, and king of Mysia, who was wounded by Achilles’ sword at Troy and later, after much wandering in misery, cured by the sword’s rust. Pelias A king of Thessaly who suffered exile and many hardships before marrying the sea-goddess Thetis and fathering Achilles.

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By silly shame, choose not to know, than49 seek to learn? A merry play would not admit a tragic verse. Thyestes’ scene disdains, that worthiest verse deserves, Be told, in meaner verse, by poorest comedian.50 Let all things be, as sorteth best their place. Yet comedy sometime lifts up the voice, And wrathful Chremes, with puffed face,51 fights; And, tragic, often moans in slave-y guise Telephus, eke Pelius.52 Why? Poor and exiled both, Away throw they these—windblown vase And halvèd, quartered verse53—if care They do, with moan, the lookers-on to move. Words fair do not suffice; let them be sweet, And such as, where they will, may turn the hearers’ ears: As merry man them please, so wailing man contents The mildy looks. If tears mine thou procure,54 Thyself must wail: so shall thy misfortune irk55 me. Evil if you do your biddings place,56 O Telephus or Pelias, or57 I shall sleep, or laughter make.

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53. windblown . . . verse “ampullas et sesquipedalia verba” (97). An ampulla is a twohandled, round-bellied vessel for holding liquids. Elizabeth may not have recognized the figurative sense of bombast or inflated discourse that “ampulla” acquired, probably by association with its shape. “Sesquipedalia verba” are, literally, words a foot and a half long. Elizabeth’s image of “halvèd, quartered verse” evokes choppy, heavily segmented lines— ones broken into two parts, each of which is broken into two more parts. To her these apparently connoted the rhythm of verses laden with polysyllabic words. 54. wailing . . . procure wailing . . . looks A weeping man pleases men of mild countenance; “flentibus adsunt / humani vultus” (human / kindly faces support—with sympathy—those who weep 101–2). contents pleases. mildy mild, gracious. Elizabeth’s is the only usage recorded by the OED. procure endeavor to bring about. 55. irk trouble, grieve. 56. Evil . . . place “male si mandata loqueris” (if you speak words ill assigned 104). Elizabeth seems to read this line as criticizing badly given “mandata” or commands (“biddings”) to actors rather than badly assigned speeches. Evil wrongly, ill; “male.” place A loose construal perhaps based on misreading “loqueris” (you speak) as perfect subjunctive “locaris” (you should place). 57. or either.

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for sory Wordes fitz best a moning face [120] the furius, thretfuL, the dalcar4 Wanton the Seuere sad graue Correicter for nature fourmed first us first fourmed within fuL fit for the bendt of eche fortune, heLpes or throWes to gro[und]5 In yrking draWes Vs doWne with wo opprest Strait motions of the minde exaltz with by toung exprist If speakars Wordz Vnfit ther fate The Many alL wiL S with skorne them alL woL Wil them WiL them deride for muche hit doth auailL Whir Dauus or Eros spekes Or ripid Age or firs youthe in GroWing yeres Or Ruling Dame or Careful Nurse Wayfaring marchand Or ploWer of the griny fild [130] in CoLCus or Assiria bred, in Thebes or Argus town Or hire say foloWe Or Writar make the matter fit for the Laudid Achilles if do thou pLrais busy hedy Ireful grantles and sharp LaWes he denies euer made for him naugh may deni gainsay the armes fors Medea Let be fiers and Woode vnWon Ino ful ^ for him of teares faithLes Ixion, Wandering Io mourning Orestes

4. dalcar dulcer, i.e., one who sweetens. 5. gro[und] The latter part of this word has been obliterated in remounting and binding. Our emendation is explained in n59 of the modern-spelling text. 58. dulcer, wanton dulcer one who sweetens (Elizabeth’s coinage), rendering “ludentem” (the jesting person 107). wanton The term, referring to the language appropriate to the playful person, has a range of senses from ‘naughty’ to ‘merry’ that closely correspond to Horace’s “lasciva” (107). 59. throws . . . oppressed Elizabeth rewords slightly, placing Horace’s image one line earlier. “Impellit ad iram” (impels to anger 109) becomes “throws to ground in irking”; “ad humum maerore gravi deducit et angit” (brings us to the ground and tortures with heavy sorrow 110) becomes “draws us down with woe oppressed.” gro[und] We have restored the obliterated letters by reference to Horace’s “humum” (ground 110). 60. exalts raises into speech (from within the mind). Horace reads “effert” (111), which here means ‘utters’ but can also mean ‘raise.’ 61. The many the multitude, the majority. “Romani . . . equites peditesque” (the Romans, horsemen and footmen—i.e., the different social ranks 113). 62. it . . . Eros much . . . avail “intererit multum” (114), which can mean ‘it will be of great advantage’ but here means ‘it will make a great difference’” Davus . . . Eros Denys Lambin’s proposed emendation, “Davusne . . . Erosne” (either Davus or Eros 114), for this disputed line. See the discussion in our introduction, pp. 458–59. 63. careful attentive; “sedula” (116).

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For sorry words fits best a moaning face; 120 The furious, threatful; the dulcer, wanton;58 the severe, grave. For Nature first us formed within, full fit For the bent of each fortune, helps or throws to gro[und] In irking, draws us down with woe oppressed;59 Straight, motions of the mind exalts, by tongue expressed.60 If speakers’ words unfit their fate, The many,61 all, with scorn will them deride. For much it doth avail whether Davus or Eros62 speaks, Or ripèd age or first youth in growing years, Or ruling dame or careful63 nurse, Wayfaring merchant or plower of the greeny field, 130 In Colchis or Assyria bred, in Thebes or Argos town.64 Or hearsay follow, or, writer, make the matter fit for thee. Lauded Achilles do thou praise? Heady, ireful, grantless,65 and sharp, Laws he denies made for him; naught may gainsay the arms’ force.66 Medea let be wood, unwon;67 Ino, full (for him) of tears68— Faithless, Ixion; wand’ring, Io; mourning, Orestes.69

64. In . . . town Two barbarian lands with their opposite character types lead off the sequence. Colchis An ancient kingdom on the eastern end of the Black Sea, famous for its fierce inhabitants. Assyria A country of western Asia, centered in contemporary northern Iraq, connoted effeminacy to the Romans. Thebes . . . Argos Two Greek cities, famous as setting of Greek tragedies, conclude the sequence, but it is not clear what distinction Horace is implying between the characters of Thebans and Argives. 65. grantless unconceding, unconsenting. Elizabeth’s apparent neologism is not recorded in the OED. Horace reads “inexorabilis” (121). 66. Laws . . . force Elizabeth’s verbs seem to imply an existing narrative, but Horace’s subjunctives propose attributes that would be in character for an Achilles: “iura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis” (let him deny that laws are made for him; let him claim everything by force of arms 122). 67. Medea . . . unwon Medea Enraged by the ingratitude and adultery of her husband, Jason, whom she had helped acquire the Golden Fleece, Medea killed the two sons whom she had borne to Jason as well as his new beloved and intended bride. wood mad, fierce; “ferox” (123). unwon unconquered. 68. Ino . . . tears Ino A daughter of Cadmus and Harmonia, and wife of Athanas, king of Thebes. He went raving mad and pursued Ino with murderous rage until she cast herself into the sea. There she was transformed into a water deity. for him i.e., for the mad Athanas. This is Elizabeth’s addition. 69. Ixion . . . Orestes Ixion Although Jupiter had absolved him of the murder of his father-in-law, he tried to rape Juno. Jupiter foiled him by substituting a cloud-body for

476

Horace’s De arte poetica

If ignorant thou aught to the Scene Commitz And darest a new actors perfourme pLace perfourme Suche as thou first hast formst hast formed to til end kepe stiL Let him with him self agrie, ful hard hit is set by time. Suche as thou first began Louke to the end thou kipe6 ful hard hit in priVate sort the Commen things decLare [140] and RightLiar shuldst thou homers Vers express Than as first man the VnKnoWentouch and Vntold to teL GeneraL mattar shaL be made thy priVate part If thou stik not to unto Curius sort about the base and Commen lines nor Word by other like Glosar sure shalt thou Vse Nor sKoLar Like shalt thou sample thy self in act Whence shame forbidz draW forbidz for Worste thy foote eke Lawe of Work Nor So begin as Ciclicus7 Writar Ons

Juno’s. When Ixion then boasted of his imagined sexual conquest, he was bound fast forever to a wheel of pain in the underworld. Io A daughter of Inarchus, king of Argos. Jupiter’s love for her made Juno so jealous that she turned Io into a cow and sent a gadfly to pursue her in her wanderings. mourning, Orestes “tristis Orestes” (unhappy Orestes 124). The son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra who, after years of exile, avenged his mother’s killing of his father by killing her. He was then driven into exile again and tormented by Furies into madness, until finally absolved of guilt by an Athenian court. 6. Suche . . . kipe This line, in Windebank’s italic hand, repairs the lacuna caused by the partial deletion Elizabeth made two lines earlier, with which she ended a session of translating, on fol. 87v. Windebank seems to have operated on Elizabeth’s instructions; see our introduction, pp. 456–57. Her hand resumes on the once-separate sheet that was later bound as fol. 88r. 7. Ciclicus Horace’s “cyclicus” is a technical poetic term. See n79 to our modern-spelling version. 70. ignorant . . . aught Elizabeth may have misunderstood “quid inexpertum” (something untried 125), thus inadvertently shifting focus from an unknown theme to an ignorant playwright, or she may be using “ignorant” in the now obsolete sense of “unknown,” with “aught”—i.e., if thou [write] aught [that is] unknown. 71. darest . . . perform “audes / personam formare novam” (you dare to fashion a new character 125–26). place duties (of a position). Elizabeth seems to shift from the Horatian playwright’s imagining of a new (stage) character to envisage a playwright’s performing of the new role, if only in his mind’s eye. 72. Such . . . keep Elizabeth ended a session of translating with a series of deletions that left this line incomplete. The complete line here is in Windebank’s hand—evidently written on her instructions. For further specifics, see n6 above. 73. in . . . declare to treat common literary materials in one’s own personal manner. private peculiar to a particular person.

Horace’s De arte poetica

477

If ignorant, thou aught70 to the scene commit And darest a new actor’s place perform:71 Such as thou first began, look to the end thou keep.72 Full hard it, in private sort, the common things declare,73 140 And rightlier shouldst thou Homer’s verse express74 Than, as first man, the untouched and untold to tell. General matter shall be made thy private part If thou stick not, too curious about the base and common lines.75 Nor word-by-other, like glosser sure, shalt thou use;76 Nor, scholarlike, shalt thou sample thyself in act77 Whence shame forbids thy foot, eke law of work;78 Nor so begin, as cyclicus writer once:

74. Homer’s . . . express Homer’s verse “Iliacum carmen” (a song of Troy 129). express “deducis in actus” (spin into acts, i.e., dramatize 129). 75. General . . . lines “publica materies privati iuris erit, si / Nec [modern editions: ‘non’] circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem” (common material will be your own by right, if you do not linger along the low, open circuit 131–32). The implication is that even much-treated subjects can be made a poet’s own through originality in composing verse. 76. Nor . . . use word-by-other word for word; “verbo verbum” (133). glosser Elizabeth construes “interpres” (134), here ‘translator,’ in its more general sense of ‘interpreter.’ Though some Renaissance commentators read this famous line as criticizing word-forword translation, others recognized that Horace contrasts literal translation, which has its own value, with a poet’s freer imitation; see Glyn P. Norton, The Ideology and Language of Translation in Renaissance France and Their Humanist Antecedents (Geneva: Droz, 1984), 57–112. Elizabeth’s rendering of the line as contrasting learned commentary with imitative poetry avoids any implication that word-for-word translation, a marked tendency in her own practice, is being criticized. sure reliable. use observe or comply with (a law, rule, etc.). 77. Nor . . . act Horace’s line should read “nec desilies imitator in arctum” (nor as an imitator should you leap down into a narrow space—i.e., do not paint yourself into a corner 134). The 1598 Wittenberg edition misprints “in arctum” as “in actum.” Elizabeth’s sense is not wholly clear, but her “in act” seems to render the misprint. See our introduction, pp. 459–60. scholarlike Elizabeth’s addition, consistent with her rendering of “interpres” (n76), construes the line as a criticism of pedantry. sample imitate, copy. 78. Whence . . . work “unde pedem proferre pudor vetet aut operis lex” (out of which, shame or the law of your work—i.e., generic norms—may prevent you from setting forth 135). forbids . . . foot Elizabeth’s phrasing is elliptical, with a verb of motion for “foot” only implied. Horace is explicit: “pedem proferre.”

478

Horace’s De arte poetica

The Luk of Priam shaL I sing and Worthy War What Was the fitting so Wiede ChaWes hathe promis noW perfourmed [150] the hilz ther frute do yeld a sely skornid mouse is borne how rightar he that WiL that fondly naught doth Vndertake SheWe me my muse a man in after tims of taken Troy The mannars of many a man that saW togither With ther towns Who [thi]nks8 not smoKe of flame but Light from smoke to giue That thens he may sheWe Wondars great Antiφato Silla and With CiClop Caribide Nor Diomidz Returne from MeLeagris Ruine Nor Trojans War from his Grandfathers sheL WiL teL Euer to the ende he hies and to best menes [160] Like as by notes the Listenars YEares he draWes Such as That he despaires in treting for to grace he Leues and So beGiles as falz With tru doth mixe

8. [thi]nks Three letters have been obliterated by an inkblot. Our restoration is explained in n84 of our modern-spelling text. 79. Nor . . . war cyclicus writer “scriptor cyclicus” (136)—a reference to one of the post-Homeric composers of epic narratives which critics arranged into a complete “cycle” of heroic events. These poets were deemed much inferior to Homer. Elizabeth’s “Ciclicus” replicates Horace’s Latin term, which Renaissance commentators explained in various ways. It is unclear what she thought it meant. “The luck . . . war” Although Horace appears to cite the opening line of a particular epic narrative by a particular poet, he may simply be setting up a straw man for easy dismissal. 80. What . . . performed? “quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu” (What worthy of such a wide-open jaw—i.e., bombastic utterance—will this promiser / boaster produce? 138). 81. The . . . born One of the most celebrated examples of Horace’s aphoristic wit: “parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus” (The mountains will go into labor; a laughable mouse will be born 139). 82. he Homer. 83. Show . . . towns Elizabeth’s English rendering of Horace’s Latin translation of the first two lines of Homer’s Odyssey. 84. [thi]nks We restore the letters obliterated by an inkblot by reference to Horace’s “cogitat” (144). 85. Antiphates . . . Charybdis Antiphates A king of the Laestrygonians, giants who sank most of the fleet of Ulysses and his companions returning from Troy and devoured one of his men (Odyssey 10.80–132). Scylla A volcanic rock located between Italy and Sicily, opposite the whirlpool Charybdis. Scylla was personified as a sea monster with gnawing hounds about her haunches; Charybdis was more vaguely personified as a monstrous,

Horace’s De arte poetica

479

“The luck of Priam shall I sing, and worthy war.”79 What fitting so wide jaws hath promise now performed?80 150 The hills their fruit do yield: a scornèd mouse is born.81 How righter he82 that, fondly, naught doth undertake: “Show me, my Muse, a man, in aftertimes of taken Troy: The manners of many a man that saw, together with their towns.”83 Who [thi]nks,84 not smoke of flame, but light from smoke, to give, That thence he may show wonders great: Antiphates, Scylla, and with Cyclops, Charybdis.85 Nor Diomedes’ return from Meleager’s ruin,86 Nor Trojans’ war, from his grandfather’s shell, will tell.87 E’er to the end he hies, and to best means,88 160 Like as, by notes, the list’ner’s ears he draws;89 That he despairs, in treating, to grace, he leaves; And so beguiles,90 as false with true doth mix,

destructive female (Odyssey 12.85–110). Cyclops One of a race of one-eyed giants of prodigious strength; here, specifically, Polyphemus, son of Poseidon-Neptune, whom Ulysses deceived and blinded (Odyssey 9). 86. Diomedes’ . . . ruin Meleager, killed by his mother after he killed two of her brothers, was the uncle of Diomedes, one of the heroes of the Trojan war. It would betray a lack of poetic control to begin the story of Diomedes’ return from Troy at one generation back. from . . . ruin “ab interitu Meleagri” (from Meleager’s violent death 146). 87. Nor . . . tell “nec gemino bellum Troianum orditur ab ovo” (nor does he begin the war of Troy from the twin eggs 147). grandfather’s shell Elizabeth apparently confused “ovo” (egg) with “avo” (grandfather), although “shell” indicates some sense of “ovo.” The “twin eggs” were those from which Helen (cause of the Trojan war), her sister Clytemnestra, and her brothers Castor and Pollux were said to have been born. The gist is the same as in the previous line: a poet should not begin at too distant a point from the main subject to be treated. 88. to . . . means Horace famously reads “in medias res” (into the story’s middle 148). Elizabeth evidently uses “means” in the common early modern sense of states and things that are ‘in the middle’ or intermediate. Her addition of “best” may activate the traditional association of intermediate things and states with the excellence of the “golden mean”; see Joshua Scodel, Excess and the Mean in Early Modern English Literature (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001). 89. Like . . . draws “non secus ac notas auditorem rapit” (just as if [the material were] already known, he hurries his listener 149). Elizabeth apparently construed “notas” in conjunction with “auditorem” as musical notes that would charm the listener’s ear. 90. That . . . beguiles That . . . grace That which he despairs to treat beautifully. leaves abandons. so beguiles “ita mentitur” (thus deceives 151).

480

Horace’s De arte poetica

That midst to first and Last with midst agrie Thou What I and peopLe do desire do hire If nide you do a praisar to the end suche as Wil bide Wh til Singar do afourd your CLapping handz to Work Then must thou marke the mannars of Eche age And grauntid must be Grace to Natures Change and year The boy that Can pronounce his Wordz [170] and stedy his ground With sure pace Lips for Joy to foLow his Like sturs his Vp his CoLor and Lets hit faL Lighty9 faL And stu changes oft in many an houre The berdLes youthe at Last mastar Cast of Joys in horsis dogges and gras of open fild WaxLike rolLed to Vice to teachar Wretched Curish Late forsear of good of his pence to Lavische hauty GLoriVs sWift Winged to Leue that he LoVed [180] but mans estate oldar age turning his Cours man with mynd manliKe Riches sikes, frindz, to honor himself engrafing Wel Waring to do that strait to change he striues woLd Cumbars many a one besige the aged fath man for Or that he Sikes though found as Wretche he forbears and dares not Ventur the Vse therof Or that in feare or Ysy sort aL things he Vndertakz SLoWghful ho hopes by a hoping Vane hoper, ydeL and gridy of change

9. Lighty Penslip for “lightly.” 91. praiser “plausoris” (applauder 154). 92. ’Til . . . work “donec cantor ‘vos plaudite’ dicat” (Till the singer should say, “Give your applause” 155). This would happen at the play’s end. afford accomplish, make happen. 93. And . . . year This word-for-word rendering obscures the sense of “mobilibusque decor naturis dandus et annis” (an appropriate quality must be given to the changing natures and years—of men 157). grace “decor,” which often means ‘beauty, grace’ but in context suggests ‘appropriate quality, seemliness.’ 94. of open “aprici” (of sunny 162). Elizabeth either confused “aprici” with “aperti” (of open) or paraphrased loosely, perhaps using “open” in the sense of ‘bare, exposed to the weather.’ 95. Waxlike . . . teacher Waxlike, rolled “cereus . . . flecti” (waxlike [in his ability] to be turned / bent 163). to teacher “monitoribus” (to counselors 163). 96. Late . . . good “utilium tardus provisor” (slow provider of advantageous things 164).

Horace’s De arte poetica

That midst to first, and last with midst, agree. Thou, what I and people do desire, do hear: If need you do, a praiser91 to the end, such as will bide ’Til singer do afford your clapping hands to work,92 Then must thou mark the manners of each age, And granted must be grace, to natures’ change and year.93 The boy that can pronounce his words, And steady his ground with sure pace, Leaps for joy to follow his like, Stirs up his choler, lets it lightly fall, And changes oft in many an hour. The beardless youth (at last, master cast off ) Joys in horses, dogs, and grass of open94 field; Waxlike, rolled to vice; to teacher,95 currish; Late foreseer of good;96 of his pence, too lavish; Haughty, glorious; swift-winged97 to leave that he loved. But older age turning his course, with mind manlike, Riches seeks, friends; to honor himself engraffing;98 Well waring99 to do, that straight to change he strives. Cumbers, many a one, besiege the agèd man: Or that100 he seeks, though found, as wretch he forbears, And dares not venture th’ use thereof; Or that in fear, or icy sort,101 all things he undertakes. Slothful; a vain hoper; idle; and greedy of change;102

481

170

180

97. glorious . . . swift-winged glorious eager for glory. Horace reads “cupidusque” (and eager, desirous 165). swift-winged The metaphor is Elizabeth’s, perhaps suggested by “cupidus” and the image of winged, fickle Cupid. Horace reads “pernix” (swift 165). 98. engraffing “inservit” (he serves, is a slave to 167), which Elizabeth seems to have confused with “inserit” or “insevit” construed as a gnomic perfect denoting habitual action, ‘he grafts on.’ 99. waring taking heed—sometimes, taking heed against. Horace reads “cavet” (168), which requires the preventive sense here. 100. Or that Either what. 101. icy sort frosty manner; “gelideque” (and icily, i.e., sluggishly 171). 102. vain . . . change vain hoper “spe longus” (long in hope 172). This puzzling phrase was variously construed by Renaissance commentators, some of whom took it to refer to the vanity of old age, long in hopes but short in remaining life. greedy . . . change “avidus futuri” (greedy of the future—i.e., of more life 172).

482

Horace’s De arte poetica

Crabbid, Whining the praisar of passid time When boy he Was a Juge and beatar of his youngar GroWing yeares great auaiLdes do bringse [190] And passed gone as many do depriVe Lest therfor agid part be giuen Vnto the young And mans estate bequiVed10 to the boy Let Vs abide in that is aptliest Joingd such as best agrez and in ther time [Endorsed in a mixture of Windebank’s secretary and italic hands:] Hir Maiesties transLation of a peece of Horace de arte poetica written with her p own hand, and copied by me for her Maiestie the iiiith of Nouember 1598. and at that day I delyuered it vnto her oWn handes11 10. bequiVed variant form of “bequeathed.” 11. handes A row of seven ciphers follows on the next line. Like the running texts of the Boethius and Plutarch translations, this endorsement has been cut out and mounted on a later sheet of paper. Nothing further seems to be known about the date when Elizabeth made her translation or about the fair copy to which Windebank refers. 103. Crabbed irritable, peevish (noted by the OED as used frequently in the sixteenth century to describe old age); “difficilis” (173). 104. judge . . . younger Sixteenth-century editions read “censor, castigatorque minorum” (judge / critic, and reprover of young people 174). Modern editions read “castigator censorque.” beater Elizabeth’s vivid, physical rendering of “castigator” reflects the early

Horace’s De arte poetica

Crabbed;103 whining; the praiser of past time When boy he was; a judge, and beater of his younger.104 Growing years great avails105 do bring; And, passèd, gone, as many do deprive. Lest, therefore, agèd part be giv’n unto the young, And man’s estate bequeathèd106 to the boy, Let us abide in such as best agree, and in their time.107

483

190

Her Majesty’s translation of a piece of Horace, De Arte Poetica, written with her own hand, and copied by me for her Majesty the 4th of November 1598. And at that day I delivered it unto her own hands.

modern practice of corporal punishment by foregrounding a resonance in Horace’s term. As the Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) points out, “castigare” can mean “to punyshe” as well as “to rebuke,” and “castigare verberibus” means “to beate.” 105. avails advantages, benefits. 106. bequeathèd assigned, alloted. 107. Let . . . time “semper in adjunctis aevoque morabimur aptis” (we shall ever dwell on the traits that are joined to and suited to the [character’s] age 178). Elizabeth’s rendering of Horace’s compressed clause is obscure. She evidently construed “adjunctis . . . aptis” (on the traits joined to and suited to) and “aevo” (to the [character’s] age) separately, rendering the former as “in such as best agree,” the latter as “in their time.”

Index of Names

For texts with facing page original- and modern-spelling versions, footnotes to the originalspelling versions are in lightface font (e.g., 16n1) and footnotes to the modern-spelling versions are in bold (e.g., 17n2). References to facing pages of the original and modern spelling are given as paired numbers separated by a virgule or slash (e.g., 16 / 17). Abraham, 12 Academics (philosophical school), 77, 77n27 Achaemenians (Persians), 322n13 Achelous River, 314 / 315, 315n221 Achilles, 474 / 475, 475n66 Adam, Traute, 5n7 Aemilius (head of a Roman gladiatorial school), 466 / 467, 466n18 Aeschylus, 408n112 Aesculapius, 412 / 413, 413n146 Aetna, Mt., 152 / 153 Agamemnon, 312 / 313, 313n213 Agrippina (mother of Nero), 158n196 Albinus (Roman consul), 45, 90 / 91, 94 / 95 Alcibiades, 204 / 205, 205n135 Alexander the Great, 436 / 437, 437n292 Alfred the Great, King of England, 46 Allen, William, 49n9 Amyot, Jacques, 373, 427n228 Anaxagoras, 84 / 85, 84n56 Anaxarchus, 155n182 Antaeus, King of Libya, 316 / 317, 316n222

Antiphates, King of the Laestrygonians, 478 / 479, 478n85 Antoninus Caracalla, M., 196 / 197, 197n102 Araspus, 436 / 437 Archilochus, 424 / 425, 425n219, 470 / 471 Arcturus (North star), 100 / 101, 102n149, 290 / 291, 290n127 Argos, 474 / 475, 475n64 Ariosto, Ludovico, 452 Aristippus, 398 / 399, 398n48 Ariston of Ceos (Aristotelian philosopher), 402 / 403, 402n74 Ariston of Chios (Stoic philosopher), 402 / 403, 402n74 Aristophanes, 403n80 Aristotelianism, 45, 402n74 Aristotle, 204 / 205, 205n135, 216n180, 230n230, 288n121, 320 / 321, 321n9, 342n84, 354 / 355, 354n130, 355n133, 451 Ascham, Roger, 3–4, 4n2, 11, 12n26, 13, 57, 58–59, 378–79, 379n30, 452, 452n3 Assyria, 474 / 475, 475n64

486 Athens, 104 / 105, 398 / 399 Atride (Agamemnon, son of Atreus), 312 / 313, 313n213 Attridge, Derek, 59n25 Augustine, Saint, 52, 52n14 Augustus Caesar, 454, 469n34 Auster (South Wind), 114 / 115, 114n211, 134 / 135, 134n85, 142 / 143, 143n125 Bacchus, 108 / 109, 150 / 151, 402 / 403, 402n78 Bacon, Anthony, 371 Basilius (courtier to Theodoric), 45 Bellemain, Jean, 379 Bellerophon, 422 / 423, 422n200 Bentinus, Michael, 12n28 Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548), 83n49, 91n87, 93n101, 130n67, 239n267, 257n10, 293n138, 323n17, 344n94, 347n104, 378, 415n154, 416n170, 425n216, 483n104 Bieler, Ludovicus, 46n1 Birch, Thomas, 371n13, 372nn15–16, 372n18 Bishops’ Bible (1568), 12, 12n27, 37n78, 208n146 Blundeville, Thomas, 374, 374n21, 379 Bodleian Library, 3, 7n11, 16n1 Boethius, Anicius Manlius Severinus, 45; De consolatione philosophiae, 3, 45–365, 379–81, 390n1, 451, 454, 456, 482n11 Boötes (the “Bear-keeper”), 290 / 291, 290n127, 291n128 Boreas (North Wind), 57, 82 / 83, 82n47, 100 / 101 Bradner, Leicester, 375nn25–26, 387, 387nn39–40, 458n14 Britannicus, 158n196 Browne, Thomas, 47n6 Bruto, Gian Michele, 12n28, 459 Brutus, Lucius Junius, 166 / 167, 167n238 Brutus, Marcus Junius, 166 / 167, 167n238 Busidides (Busiris), King of Egypt, 155–56 Cacus, 316 / 317, 316n223 Caecilius, 468 / 469, 468n29

index Caligula, Gaius Caesar, 84n56, 94 / 95, 94n109 Callimachus, 410n126 Calvin, John, his conception of God, 52; Institution de la Religion Chrestienne, chap. 1 (How We Ought to Know God), 59n27 Cambridge, University of, 451n1 Camden, William, 47–48, 47n6, 48n8 Camerarius, Joachim (Liebhard Kammerer), 12n28 Campania, 90 / 91, 90n87, 469n34 Cancer (Northern constellation), 106 / 107 Canius, 84 / 85, 84–85n56, 94 / 95 Carew, Sir George, 372 Carey, Henry, Lord Hunsdon, 8 Carthage, 156n185 Catholicism, Roman, 59 Cato, Marcus Porcius (the Elder), 166 / 167, 167n238, 468 / 469, 468n31 Cato the Younger, 166 / 167, 167n238, 300 / 301, 300n164 Catullus, Gaius Valerius, 190n73 Caucasus, 162 / 163 Cecil, Robert, 370–72 Cecil, William, Lord Burghley, 8, 8n16, 49n9, 371–72 Cerberus, 247n294, 314 / 315, 315n216 Ceres (goddess of agriculture), 106 / 107, 107n179, 176 / 177, 274 / 275 Cethegi (ancient Romans), 466 / 467, 467n27 Cethegus, Cornelius, 467–68n27 Chadwick, Henry, 46n1, 52n14 Chaeron, 390 / 391, 391n5 Chapman, George, 373 Charybdis, 478 / 479, 478n85 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 46 Chloris, 396 / 397, 397n42 Chremes (angry father in Roman comedy), 472 / 473, 472n51 Christian theology, 51–52, 51n13, 219n192, 238n264, 265n40, 270n58, 271n64, 283n97, 294n142, 296n150, 297–98n153, 332 / 333, 332–33n49, 350n117, 353n128

index Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 3,156n185, 162 / 163, 162n211, 195n97, 336 / 337, 336n60, 344n94, 379, 468n27; Pro M. Marcello, 3–41 Circe, 274n76, 276n80 Clark, Albert, 12n28 Cleon, 402 / 403, 403n80 Clopis, 402 / 403, 403n80 Colchis, 474 / 475, 475n64 Conigastus (official at Theodoric’s court), 90 / 91, 90n83 Copernicus, Nicolaus, 258n14 Cornario, Iano, 377, 377n28, 396n34, 407n104, 409n113, 428n239, 440n309, 443n329 Cowley, Abraham, 62 Crashaw, Richard, 62 Craster, H. H. E., 3n1 Crato, Johann, 459 Croesus, King of Lydia, 126 / 127, 126n47 Cyclops, 478 / 479, 479n85 Cyprian (Theodoric’s secretary), 45 Cyrenaics (philosophical school), 398n48 Cyrus, King of Persia, 126 / 127, 126n47, 322n13, 436 / 437, 437n291 Damocles, sword of, 194 / 195, 195n97 Darius, 442 / 443; his wife, 436 / 437, 437n292 Davus (shifty slave in Roman comedy), 458, 474 / 475, 474n62 Decoratus, 190 / 191, 190n76 Democritus, 434 / 435 Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex, 8–9, 9nn21–23, 10, 10n24, 371–72 Diana (moon goddess), 402 / 403, 403n79, 464 / 465 Diogenes (Cynic philosopher), 432n262 Diogenes Laertius, 155n182 Diomedes, son of Tydeus, 478 / 479, 479n86 Diomedes of Thrace, 315n219 Dionysians (supporters of Syracusan tyrants Dionysius I and II), 442 / 443, 443n328

487 Dionysius I, tyrant of Syracuse, 195n97 Dioxippus, 432 / 433, 432n262 Dobson, E. J., 264n39 Domitian (Titus Flavius Domitianus), 377, 440 / 441, 441nn316–17 Donne, John, 371–72, 372n14, 372n16 Drant, Thomas, 451n1 Elizabeth I (references to works only): Ars poetica, 1–178 (translation of Horace), 3, 61, 390n1, 451–83; “Che cosa è Christo” (translation of Ochino), 59n27, 370; De consolatione philosophiae (translation of Boethius), 3, 45–365, 379–81, 390n1, 451, 454, 456, 482n11; De curiositate (translation of Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch), 58, 61, 369–447, 451, 454, 456, 482n11; Elizabeth I: Autograph Compositions and Foreign Language Originals (ACFLO), 16n1, 48n7, 58n21, 207n143; Elizabeth I: Complete Works (CW), 4n3, 5nn4–5, 6n10, 7n12, 7n14, 8n15, 10n24, 14n30, 23n20, 34n66, 35n70, 47n5, 48n7, 63n34, 70n40, 89n78, 97n122, 117n216, 339n73, 370n5, 371n7, 429n247, 454n9; Elizabeth I: Translations, 1544–1589 (General Introduction), 426n226; Epistulae morales, 107 (translation of Seneca), 47; Institution de la Religion Chrestienne, chap. 1 (How We Ought to Know God, translation of Calvin), 59n27; Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (Glass of the Sinful Soul, translation of Marguerite de Navarre), 52, 59n27; Pro M. Marcello (translation of Cicero), 3–41; Sententiae (1563), 6 Elyot, Thomas, 6, 6n9, 369, 370n1. See also Bibliotheca Eliotae (1548) Empedocles, 392 / 393, 392n6 English commonwealth, 5n5, 8, 35n70 Ennius, 468 / 469, 468n31 Epicaste (Jocasta), 396 / 397, 397n42 Epicureans and Epicureanism, 37n77, 84 / 85, 180 / 181, 180n29 “Epistle of the Blessed Virgin Mary to the Messanians,” 16n1

488 Erasmus, Desiderius, 370, 370n2; De curiositate (Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch), 370, 374–78, 381, 383–88, 390n1, 393n14, 394n25, 396n33, 397n42, 398n5, 398n47, 399n55, 400n60, 400– 401nn63–68, 401n70, 402nn75–76, 402–3nn78–80, 403n83, 404nn87–88, 405n92, 406n97, 407n102, 407n104, 407n107, 408n10, 408–9nn112–15, 409n118, 410n125, 411n130, 411n132, 412n136, 412n139, 412n142, 413n146, 413n148, 414n151, 415n156, 416n166, 418nn178–79, 418n182, 418n184, 419n186, 420nn188–90, 421n195, 422n199, 422n203, 423nn205–6, 424n214, 425n216, 425n219, 426nn223– 26, 427n228, 427n233, 428n236, 428n239, 429n242, 429n246, 432n261, 433nn269–70, 434n275, 434n277, 437–38nn294–96, 440n307, 440n309, 441n314, 441n316, 441n319, 442n323, 443n329, 444n333, 445n338, 445n340 Erastistratus, 412 / 413, 413n146 Eros (faithful slave in Roman comedy), 458, 474 / 475, 474n62 Estienne, Henri, 374, 374n22, 375–76, 390n1, 393n18, 394n22, 396n34, 398n47, 400n63, 406n101, 407n104, 408n113, 415n154, 417n175, 421n195, 422n202, 427n229, 427n234, 428n239, 432n267, 439n306, 440n307, 440n309, 442n326, 443n329 Etole, 402 / 403, 403n80 Euphrates River, 322 / 323, 323n15 Euphrone, 434 / 435, 434n277 Euripides, 199n110, 202 / 203, 203n126, 431n260, 440n311 Euripus, strait of, 122 / 123, 123n26 Eurus (Southeast Wind), 142 / 143, 142n122, 274 / 275, 274n75 Eurydice, 68, 245n286, 248 / 249, 248n36 Evander, 316 / 317, 316n223 Fabricius (Caius Fabricius Luscinus), 166 / 167, 167n238 Fabricius, George, 452

index Ferretti, Emilio, 12n28 Folger Shakespeare Library, 12n27, 49n9 Forrest, Thomas, 373 France, Peter, 373n19 Furies, 247n295, 476n69 Gaudentius (courtier to Theodoric), 45, 92 / 93 Gellius, Aulus, 156n185 Geneva Bible (1560), 86n69 Germanicus (father of Caligula), 94 / 95 Gibson, Margaret, 46n2 Giles, Rev. Dr., 452n3 Ginsburg, Carlo, 370n1 God, 88 / 89, 96, 98n126, 99; as Creator, Father, and Source, 60, 69–70, 110 / 111, 144 / 145, 145n137, 148 / 149, 200 / 201, 216–21, 216n179, 217n187, 219n191, 254– 57, 304 / 305, 308 / 309, 326 / 327, 330–33; Elizabeth’s Calvinist and voluntarist conception of, 52, 294n142, 295n144, 296n150, 350n117; Elizabeth’s Christian conception of, 51–52, 219n192, 271n64 (see also God: grace of); as Giver of good, 51, 128 / 129, 128n56, 254 / 255, 298–301, 301n167; grace of, 51–52, 219n192, 332 / 333, 332–33n49; as greatest good and blessedness, 46, 220–23, 226 / 227, 240–43, 270 / 271, 271n63, 299n156; human kinship to or union with, 46, 51–52, 52n14, 148 / 149, 224 / 225, 224n208, 243n281, 270 / 271, 270n58, 271n64, 273n70, 365n163; as Judge, 48, 258 / 259, 308 / 309, 364 / 365, 365n163; omniscience, foreknowledge, and providence of, 46, 234 / 235, 235n249, 292–97, 293n137, 295n145, 300 / 301, 300nn162–63, 322–41, 325n25, 335n58, 337n64, 338n69, 340n75, 343n88, 348–63, 351nn119–20, 353n128, 362n156, 363n158; as Ruler and Guide, 69, 102–5, 102n150, 103n158, 108–13, 216–23, 216nn183–85, 217–18nn187–88, 219nn191–92, 238–45, 258 / 259, 289–91, 296–301, 299n156, 300n162, 308 / 309, 320–25, 332 / 333

index Golden Age, 108n180, 151n162, 151n165 Gotoff, Harold C., 12n28 Grafton, Anthony, 46n2 Grecians, 314 / 315, 314n214 Griffin, Miriam, 5n7 Gruber, Johannes, 46n1, 82n45, 176n6 Guise (French Catholic line of nobility), 47 Hades, 246n292, 247nn293–94, 248n299 Hammer, Paul E. J., 9nn21–23, 371nn9–12 Handover, P. M., 370n4, 372n17 Harington, John, 452, 452n6 Haydock, Richard, 453 Haynes, Alan, 370n6, 371n11 Helen of Troy, 314n213 Helgerson, Richard, 58n23 Heliodorus, 373 Henri IV, King of France, 9, 47–48, 49n10 Henry VIII, King of England, 46 Hercules, 156 / 157, 156n184, 314 / 315, 314n216, 315–17nn219–25, 317n227 Herding, O., 376n27 Hermus river, 228 / 229, 228n225 Herodotus, 126n47, 373 Hesiod, 379 Hesperia, 78 / 79, 79n38 Hesperian apples, 314n216 Hesperus (evening star), 100 / 101, 170 / 171, 184 / 185, 306 / 307, 307n186 Hierophilus, 412 / 413, 413n146 Hilliard, Nicholas, 453, 453n8 Homer, quotations or references, 57, 88n73, 104n164, 127n50, 305n181, 314n215, 324 / 325, 325n26, 396 / 397, 397n42, 422n200, 424 / 425, 453, 470 / 471, 476 / 477, 477n74, 478n79, 478nn82–83, 478n85 Horace (Horatius Quintus Flaccius), 58, 331n46; Ars poetica, 3, 61, 390n1, 451–83 Howard, Charles, Lord Howard of Effingham, 8 Howard, Lady Mary, 454 Howard, Thomas, Duke of Norfolk, 7, 7n12

489 Hydra, 292 / 293, 314 / 315, 315n220 Hyginus, 156n184 Iamblichus, 419n188 India, Indian, 198 / 199, 228 / 229, 274 / 275 Indus River, 229n225 Ino, 474 / 475, 475n68 Io, 474 / 475, 476n69 Iphigenia, 314n213 Isaac, 12 Isidore of Seville, 323n15 Isocrates, 373 Ischomachus, 398 / 399 Ixion, 248 / 249, 248n296, 474 / 475, 475n69 James VI, King of Scotland, 7, 370–71 Jesuits, 49 Julius Caesar, 4–7, 10–14, 16–41, 167n238, 300n164, 454, 469n34 Jupiter, 126 / 127 Katherine Parr, Queen of England, 6, 379 Kenny, Neil, 374n23 Kingdon, Robert M., 49n9 Kinney, Arthur F., 453n8 Kirk, R. E. G., 72n1 Kletsch, Ernest, 459n15 Knollys, William, 372 Koster, A. J., 376n27 Laius, 438 / 439 Lambin, Denys, 12n28, 458–59, 459n15, 474n62 Lamia, 396 / 397, 396n34 Lee, Rensselaer W., 453n7 Lehmberg, Stanford E., 6n9 Libya, 316 / 317, 316n222 Livy (Titus Livius), 291n131 Locrians, 416 / 417, 417n177 Lodge, Thomas, 47, 452, 452n4 Lomazzo, Giovanni, 453 Lucan, 300 / 301, 300n164 Lucifer (morning star), 100 / 101, 101n143, 176 / 177, 306 / 307 Lynceus, 205n135 Lysimachus, 404 / 405, 404n89

490 MacCaffrey, Wallace, 7n12 Macrobius, 162n211 Manley, Frank, 46n3 Manuzio, Paolo (Paulus Manutius), 12n28 Marcellus, Caius, 23n24, 40 / 41, 40n35 Marcellus, M. Claudius, 4–6, 10, 16–41 Marguerite de Navarre, Le Miroir de l’âme pécheresse (Glass of the Sinful Soul), 52, 59n27 Marmarica (region of North Africa), 275n78 Martz, Louis L., 46n3 Mary Stewart, Queen of Scots, 7–8, 23n20, 34n66 Mary Tudor, Queen of England, 47, 47n5 May, Steven W., 384, 384n36, 385, 385n37, 387, 425n222, 446n15 Mayer, Roland, 455n12 McKerrow, R. B., 378n29 McLaren, Anne, 5n5 Mears, Natalie, 371n8 Medea, 474 / 475, 475n67 Melanchthon, Philipp, 12n28 Meleager, 478 / 479, 479n86 Melissus, Paul, 58n21 Menander, 87 / 88, 87n72 Mercury (Hermes), 275n79 Milgate, Wesley, 372n14 Milton, John, 62, 183n39 More, Thomas, 46 Moreschini, Claudio, 46n1 Moss, Ann, 452n2 Mueller, Janel, 12n26, 61n32 Muret, Marc-Antoine, 459 Muse or Muses, 76 / 77, 77n26, 77n29, 106 / 107, 236 / 237, 245n286, 412 / 413, 434 / 435, 470 / 471, 478 / 479 Nashe, Thomas, 378, 378n29 National Archives (Kew), The, 44, 72n1, 253, 368, 390n1, 450, 462 Navagero, Andrea, 12n28, 13, 14 Neale, J. E., 7n13 Nemean lion, 314n216 Neoplatonism, 45, 52, 57, 185n49, 216n178,

index 217n185, 218n188, 224n208, 296n147, 301n168 Nero (Nero Claudius Caesar Drusus Germanicus), 65, 85n56, 158 / 159, 158nn196–97, 194 / 195, 194n90, 196 / 197, 197n101,197n104 Neptune, 468 / 469 Nichols, John, 7n11 Nile River, 36 / 37 Nonius, 190 / 191 Norbrook, David, 5n5 North, Thomas, 373 Northern Pole, 208 / 209 Norton, Glyn P., 452n2, 477n76 Notus (South Wind), 159n200, 392n8 Obertello, Luca, 55n17 Ocean, 36 / 37 Ochino, Bernardino, “Che cosa è Christo,” 59n27, 370 O’Donnell, Anne M., 370n2 O’Donnell, James J., 46n1 Oedipus, 438 / 439, 439n306 Olympia, 398 / 399, 432 / 433 O’Neill, Hugh, Earl of Tyrone, 372 Opilio (brother of Cyprian, Theodoric’s secretary), 45, 92 / 93 Orestes, 474 / 475, 476n69 Orpheus, 67–68, 245n286, 248 / 249, 249n302, 251n305 Ovid, 274n75, 316n223 Oxford, University of, 3, 4, 8, 9, 13, 16n1 Pacuvius, 126n48 Panthea, 436 / 437, 437n291 Papinian (Roman jurist), 196 / 197, 197n102 Paris (prince of Troy), 314n213 Parker, Matthew, Archbishop of Canterbury, 12n27 Parliament, 453 Parmenides, 95n113, 244 / 245, 244n284 Parnassus, 390 / 391 Parthians, 162 / 163, 322n14 Paul (Aemilius Paulus), 126 / 127, 126n48 Paul, Saint, 297–98n153, 361n153, 369 Paulinus, 90 / 91, 91n89

index Pelias, King of Thessaly, 472 / 473, 472n52 Pemberton, Caroline, 72n1, 387, 387nn39– 40 Perseus, King of Macedonia, 126n48 Philip II, King of Macedon, 424 / 425, 426n223 Philippides, 404 / 405, 404n89 Philosophy, Lady (Boethian personification), 45–46, 47, 50, 74–78, 81n41, 82/83, 83n49, 88n73, 89n81, 98n130, 105n167, 124n33, 127n52, 140n113, 148n150, 149n152, 176n5, 187n59, 188n60, 188n62, 212n163, 215n174, 226n217, 231n234, 234n247, 235n251, 240n268, 243n278, 254 / 255, 254n1, 261n27, 262n31, 283n97, 287n113, 293n139, 310nn199–200, 312n207, 340n78 Phoebe (moon goddess, Diana), 290 / 291, 290n31, 306 / 307, 306n184 Phoebus Apollo (sun god), 82 / 83, 82n8, 82n48, 100 / 101, 106 / 107, 107n177, 132 / 133, 170 / 171, 228 / 229, 325n26, 326 / 327 Phrygians, 312 / 313, 313n213 Pisos (Roman family), 462–65, 463n4 Plato, 69, 77n27, 84 / 85, 84n55, 88 / 89, 89n79, 94n106, 205n135, 214 / 215, 215n176, 236–239, 238n263, 244 / 245, 245n285, 259n20, 266–69, 268n51, 282n97, 285n109, 334n55, 354 / 355, 355n133, 356 / 357, 398n48, 431n257 Platonism, 45, 324n22. See also Neoplatonism Plautus, Titus Maccius, 468 / 469, 468n29 Plummer, Charles, 7n11, 8nn16–20 Plutarch, 155n182, 379, 391n5; De curiositate (Erasmus’s Latin version of Plutarch), 58, 61, 369–447, 451, 454, 456, 482n11; “Περὶ πολυπραγμοσύνης” (original Greek text), 369, 373–6, 390n1, 392n9, 393n14, 394nn24–25, 396n33, 397nn42–43, 400n63, 402n75, 402– 3nn78–80, 404n85, 407n102, 408– 9nn112–13, 410n129, 411n131, 412n139, 412n142, 413n146, 414nn148–49,

491 414n151, 416n168, 417n175, 419n186, 420nn188–89, 421n195, 422n203, 424n214, 426n224, 426n226, 427n228, 427n231, 427n233, 431n254, 432n261, 433n270, 434n275, 434–35nn277– 78, 436nn286–87, 437n293, 439n301, 439n304, 440n307, 440n309, 442nn322–23, 442–43n326, 444n331, 444nn333–34, 445n338 Polyphemus, 314 / 315, 314n215, 479n85 Pompey the Great (Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus), 4, 27n37, 28nn41–42 Pomptine marshes, 456, 469n35 Poneropolis (‘Crookville’), 426 / 427, 426n223 Poppi, Antonino, 46n2 Prescott, Anne Lake, 49n10 Priam, 478 / 479 Privy Council, 9 Proclus, 95n113, 216n178 Proserpine, 247n293 Ptolemy (Claudius Ptolemaeus), 78n31, 160 / 161, 161n208 Pulmann, Theodor, 55, 55nn18–19, 56– 57, 59n24, 60n28, 77n27, 78n33, 80n39, 83n49, 84n55, 87–88nn72–73, 90n82, 91n91, 92n93, 93n103, 97n123, 98nn129– 30, 103n156, 104n164, 118n2, 120n9, 120n11, 127n50, 132n74, 133n81, 135n89, 136n92, 141n119, 144n131, 145n136, 146n138, 152n168, 153n171, 155nn180– 81, 159n201, 165n225, 167n238, 168n240, 169n243, 170n251, 177n14, 180n26, 180n28, 184nn45–46, 186n57, 189n65, 190n69, 192n81, 201nn118–19, 202n123, 206n138–39, 207n145, 211n159, 216n184, 219n191, 222nn202–3, 224n207, 225n211, 225n214, 228n222, 228n225, 232n240, 236n253, 242n275, 243n278, 244n284, 248n298, 262nn31–32, 265nn42–43, 269n53, 269n57, 280n93, 282n96, 284n104, 289n124, 301n168, 303n177, 305nn180–82, 312n208, 313n210–11, 315n221, 319n4, 320n8, 325n26, 326n29, 327n31, 328n34, 329nn38–39, 334nn52– 53, 335n56–57, 336n61, 340n77, 341n79,

492 Pulmann, Theodor (continued) 343n90, 344n92, 346n101, 346n104, 352n123, 356n136, 358n146, 361n153, 361n155 Punic War, First, 156 / 157 purgatory, 52 Puritans, English, 370 Pythagoras, 398 / 399, 418 / 419, 419n188 Pythagorean sayings, 56, 96, 99, 396n33 Quintilian, 400n61, 423n206 R., B., 373 Rand, E. K., 46n1 Ravenna, 92 / 93 Red Sea, 190 / 191, 190n69 Regulus (hero of First Punic War), 156 / 157, 156n185 Relihan, Joel C., 46n1 Rhine River, 36 / 37, 464 / 465 Riddehough, G. B., 51n12, 53n15 Ridolfi plot, 7 Rome, ancient, 156n185, 426/427, 440/441; Roman civil war, 4, 12, 24–29, 32/33, 36– 39; Roman commonweal or commonwealth, 5, 16/17, 22–27, 32–35, 34n69, 38/39 (see also Rome, ancient: Roman republic); Roman consuls, 130/131, 136/137, 152/153, 154n173, 167n238, 192/193; Roman empire, 162/163; Roman kings, 154n173; Roman liberty, 94/95; Roman people (“citizens,” “the people,” “the vulgar,” “the many”), 10, 26–39, 29n44, 106/107, 106n171, 132/133, 192/193, 474/475, 474n61; Roman public offices or officials, 132/133, 132n74, 154n173, 190n71, 190n76, 192–95, 193n85, 194n90, 208/209, 209n150; Roman republic, 4, 167n238; Roman senate or senators (“Fathers” or “Conscript Fathers”), 4, 10, 17n2, 24n14, 26, 26n34, 27/28, 32/33, 38/39, 92/93, 93nn101–2, 93nn104–5, 94/95, 95nn114– 15, 96/97, 106/107, 132/133, 132n74, 152/153, 192/193, 193n85, 194/195 Rowe, Christopher, 5n7 Ruch, Michel, 5n6, 12n28

index Rummel, Erika, 374n24 Rusticus, Junius Arulenus, 377, 441nn316– 17 Ryan, Lawrence V., 4n2, 58n22, 379n30, 452n3 Salamon, Linda Bradley, 453n8 Sallust (Gaius Sallustius Crispus), 323n15 Saturn, 258 / 259, 259n15 Savile, Henry, 6, 7n11, 8, 8nn17–18 Savile, Thomas, 8, 8nn19–20, 9 Schmitt, Charles B., 46n2 Schoell, Franck L., 373nn19–20 Schofield, Malcolm, 5n7 Scodel, Joshua, 479n88 Scylla, 478 / 479, 478n85 Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, 5, 5n7, 47, 84 / 85, 84n56, 196 / 197, 197n101, 197n104 Seven Stars (“Big Dipper”), 158 / 159, 159n199, 290n127 Severus, Septimius, 197n102 Shakespeare, William, 21n14 Shepherd, Geoffrey, 452n5 Sherry, Richard, 11n25, 13, 13n29 Sidney, Philip, 47, 58, 452, 452n5 Simonides, 424 / 425, 424n210 Siren, 412 / 413, 412n135 Sirius (Dog star), 102 / 103, 102n18, 102n149 Skinner, Quentin, 6n8 Smith, G. Gregory, 47n4, 452n4 Socrates, 84 / 85, 84n55, 94 / 95, 94n106, 205n135, 369, 398/399, 398n48, 436 / 437 Sophocles, 407n102, 433n270, 439n306 Soranus, 84 / 85, 84n56 Spenser, Edmund, 8n15, 49n10, 58, 470n41 Starnes, DeWitt T., 370n3 Stewart, H. F., 46n1 Stoics and Stoicism, 6, 45, 47, 77, 77n27, 84 / 85, 84–85n56, 300n164, 344 / 345, 344n93, 377 Stringer, Philip, 8n16 Sturm, Johannes, 12n28, 13, 14, 452n3 Stymphalian birds, 314n216 Suetonius (Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus), 441n316

index Symmachus (Boethius’s father-in-law), 45, 98 / 99, 130 / 131, 136 / 137 Syracusans, 442 / 443 Tacitus, Cornelius, 158n196, 197n101, 291n131, 441n316 Tagus River, 228 / 229, 228–29n225 Tartar or Tartarus, 248 / 249, 249n301 Taverner, Richard, 370, 370n3 Telephus, King of Mysia, 472 / 473, 472n52 Tester, S. J., 46n1 Thebes, 474 / 475, 475n64 Theodoric, Ostrogoth King of Italy, 45, 90–97, 92n94, 96n117 Thomas Thomas’s Latin-English dictionary (1587), 83n49, 93n101, 113n205, 130n67, 212n165, 293n138, 344n94, 347n104, 378, 421n195 Thompson, John, 61n32 Thule, 198n107 Thurian laws, 418 / 419, 418n183 Thyestes, 472 / 473, 472n50 Tiber River, 469n36 Tigris River, 322 / 323, 323n15 Tiresias, 330 / 331, 331n46 Tityrus, 185n46, 248 / 249, 248n298 Tityus, 248n298 Triggulla (official at Theodoric’s court), 90 / 91, 90n83 Trimpi, Wesley, 57n20 Trojan War, 478 / 479, 479n87 Troy, 478 / 479, 478n85 Tyre (Phoenician city), 150 / 151, 151n164, 194n88 Tyro, 396 / 397, 397n42 Tyrrhene sea, 206 / 207 Ulysses, 274 / 275, 274n75, 314 / 315, 314n215, 396 / 397, 397n42, 478–79n85 Underdowne, Thomas, 373 Ursa Major (“Great Bear”), 159n199, 290n127, 306 / 307 Valerius Maximus, 155n182 Varius, 468 / 469, 469n29 Verona, 94 / 95

493 Vesuvius, 86 / 87, 86n12, 86n64 Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro), 58, 185n46, 198n107, 316n223, 334n54, 452, 468 / 469, 468n29 Vulgate Bible, 86n69, 135n88, 242n274, 297–98n153, 361n153 “Wain, the.” See Seven Stars (“Big Dipper”) Walsh, P. G., 46n1 Watts, N. H., 12n28 Watts, Victor, 46n1 Webbe, William, 452, 452n4 Weinberg, Bernard, 452n2 Whitgift, John, Archbishop of Canterbury, 9, 48, 49 Wilkes, Thomas, 47, 49 Wilson, F. P., 378n29 Windebank, Thomas, 49–50, 50n11, 53, 53n16, 54, 57, 72n1, 78n6, 78n31, 79n36, 80n40, 81nn42–43, 82n10, 82n46, 83n52, 88n13, 92n14, 93n99, 93n101, 94n107, 96n15, 96n121, 98n128, 99nn130–31, 104n162, 105n167, 111n196, 125n39, 125n42, 127n51, 130n65, 133n80, 136n94, 140n116, 141n117, 146n141, 156n183, 160n204, 161n207, 164n224, 168n44, 174n1, 178n2, 179n20, 179nn23–24, 180n26, 187n59, 188n63, 196n98, 202n14, 210n22, 235n248, 254n1, 256nn3–4, 258nn66–67, 260n8, 260n10, 263n35, 264nn13–15, 264n39, 266n16, 268nn17– 20, 270nn21–22, 272n23, 273n71, 281n93, 284n26, 286nn28–29, 286n111, 289n123, 290n30, 292n32, 294n33, 294n141, 295n146, 296n149, 301n167, 304n35, 306n36, 311n205, 312n39, 316, 318n1, 325n24, 326n5, 331n45, 337n64, 348n11, 349n112, 350n12, 350nn115–16, 352n13, 357n141, 358n18, 364n21, 373, 378, 384– 88, 390nn1–2, 391n4, 392n7, 392nn10–13, 393nn15–18, 394n25, 395nn27–30, 395– 96n32–33, 396–98nn35–44, 398n46, 398–99n49–52, 399nn54–58, 400nn60– 62, 400n64, 401nn66–68, 401n70, 402nn76–77, 403n79, 403nn81–83, 404nn86–90, 405n92, 406nn96–101,

494 Windebank, Thomas (continued) 407n103, 407nn105–6, 408n10, 408nn109–10, 409–10nn117–21, 410n123, 410n125, 411n130, 411nn132– 33, 412nn135–38, 412–15nn140–53, 415n155, 415–16nn157–63, 416nn165– 68, 416–17nn170–74, 417–20nn176– 92, 421nn194–95, 421–22nn197– 99, 423nn205–7, 424–25nn211–16, 425nn221–22, 426n225, 427n229, 427n233, 428n235, 428n240, 429n243, 429n245, 429–30nn247–48, 430nn252– 53, 431nn255–56, 431n258, 432n262, 432nn265–66, 433n268, 434nn272– 73, 434–35nn277–78, 435n280, 435n282, 435n284, 436–37nn289–90, 438n295, 438n298, 439n302, 439n304,

index 440nn306–7, 440nn312–13, 441nn317– 18, 442nn323–24, 442–43nn326– 27, 444n330, 444n335, 445n339, 446, 446n15, 451, 457, 462n1, 476n6, 476n72, 482, 482n11 Winters, Yvor, 57n20 Wolf, Hieronymus, 373 Xenocrates, 430 / 431, 431n257 Xenophon, 394 / 395, 395n26, 437n291 Xylander, Wilhelm, 427n228 Zeno of Citium, 77n27 Zeno of Elea, 77n27, 84 / 85, 84n56, 155n182 Zephyrus (West Wind), 100 / 101, 134 / 135, 134n11, 134n84, 390 / 391