and raved in his sickness; shall
his words be axioms, and his talk be so authentical, that thou wilt,
to observe them, prejudice thyself? No no, Saladyne, sick men's wills
that are parole[1] and have neither hand nor seal, are like the laws
of a city written in dust, which are broken with the blast of every
wind. What, man, thy father is dead, and he can neither help thy
fortunes, nor measure thy actions; therefore bury his words with his
carcase, and be wise for thyself. What, 'tis not so old as true,

Non sapit, qui sibi non sapit.

[Footnote 1: oral.]

Thy brother is young, keep him now in awe; make him not checkmate[1]
with thyself, for

Nimia familiaritas contemptum parit.

[Footnote 1: equal.]

Let him know little, so shall he not be able to execute much: suppress
his wits with a base estate, and though he be a gentleman by nature,
yet form him anew, and make him a peasant by nurture: so shalt thou
keep him as a slave, and reign thyself sole lord over all thy father's
possessions. As for Fernandyne, thy middle brother, he is a scholar
and hath no mind but on Aristotle: let him read on Galen while thou
riflest[1] with gold, and pore on his book till thou dost purchase
lands: wit is great wealth; if he have learning it is enough: and so
let all rest."

[Footnote 1: gamble, cf. modern "raffle."]

In this humor was Saladyne, making his brother Rosader his foot-boy,
for the space of two or three years, keeping him in such servile
subjection, as if he had been the son of any country vassal. The young
gentleman bore all with patience, till on a day, walking in the garden
by himself, he began to consider how he was the son of John of
Bordeaux, a knight renowned for many victories, and a gentleman
famosed for his virtues; how, contrary to the testament of his father,
he was not only kept from his land and entreated as a servant, but
smothered in such secret slavery, as he might not attain to any
honorable actions.

"Ah," quoth he to himself, nature working these effectual passions,
"why should I, that am a gentleman born, pass my time in such
unnatural drudgery? were it not better either in Paris to become a
scholar, or in the court a courtier, or in the field a soldier, than
to live a foot-boy to my own brother? Nature hath lent me wit to
conceive, but my brother denied me art to contemplate: I have strength
to perform any honorable exploit, but no liberty to accomplish my
virtuous endeavors: those