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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
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