than he sayde
make an ende of your euyll langage leste the kynge here yow/ for the
courtyne heereth yow well[54] I nowhe. Than as towchynge to the paynes
that they ought to suffre paciently Valerius reherceth that a tyrant
dide do tormente Anamaximenes & thretenyd hym for to cutte of his tonge.
To whom he sayd hit is not in thy power to doo soo/ and forthwyth he
bote of his owne tonge/ And shewed hit wyth his teth and casted hit in
the visage of the Tyrant Hit is a grete vertu in a man that he forgete
not to be pacyent in corrections of wronges/ Hit is better to leue a
gylty man vnpunysshyd/ than to punysshe hym in a wrath or yre Valerius
reherceth that archita of tarente that was mayster to plato sawe that
his feldes & lande was destroyed and lost by the necligence of his
seruant To whom he sayd yf I were not angry with the I wold take
vengeance and turmente the/ Lo there y'e may see that he had leuer to
leue to punysshe/ than to pugnysshe more by yre & wrath than by right
And therfore sayth seneque/ doo no thynge that thou oughtest to doo whan
y'u art angry/ For whan thou art angry thou woldest doo alle thynges
after thy playsir/ And yf thou canst not vaynquysshe thyn yre/ than
muste thyn yre ouercome the/ After thys ought they to haue wylfull
pouerte/ lyke as hit was in the auncyent prynces/ For they coueyted more
to be riche in wytte and good maners than in moneye/ And that reherceth
Valerius in his .viii. booke that scipion of Affryque was accused vnto
the Senate that he shold haue grete tresour/ And he answerd certes whan
I submysed affryque in to your poeste/ I helde no thynge to myself that
I myght faye this is myn save only the surname of affryque/ Ner the
affryquans haue not founden in me ner in my broder ony auarice/ ner y't
we were so couetouse that we had ne had gretter enuye to be riche of
name than of rychesses/ And therfore sayth seneque that the kynge
Altagone vsid gladly in his hows vessels of erthe/ And some sayde he
dyde hit for couetyse/ But he sayde that hit was better and more noble
thynge to myne in good maners than in vayssell And whan some men
demanded hym why and for what cause he dyde so/ he answerd I am now
kynge of secylle/ and was sone of a potter/ and for as moche as I doubte
fortune. For whan I yssued out of the hous of my fader and moder/ I was
sodaynly made riche/ wherfore I beholde the natiuyte of me and of my
lignage/ whiche is humble & meke/ And alle these thynges cometh of
wilfull p