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ELIZABETH WELLS GALLUP

THE

Bi-literal Cypher

S ir Francis Bacon

difcovered in his works

AND DECIPHERED BY

MRS. ELIZABETH WELLS GALLUP

THIRD EDITION

DETROIT, MICHIGAN, U. S. A.:
HOWARD PUBLISHING COMPANY

LONDON:
CAY 6 BIRD

22 Bedford St.

' -^x

WO |

BY V. KING MOORE.

ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL,
LONDON,

1901.

CONTENTS.
PART I.

PAGE

Personal Mrs. Elizabeth Wells Gallup 1

Explanatory Introduction First Edition 6

Preface, Second Edition 15

Argument 18

Notes on the Shakespeare Plays 28

Stenography in th*e time of Queen Elizabeth 35

Francis Bacon, Biographical 39

Ciphers 46

Cyphars in Advancement of Learning, 1605 49

Cyphars in De Augmentis 50

Bi-literal Cipher Plan and Illustration 51

Fac-simile pages from De Augmentis, 1624 55

Fac-simile pages from Novum Organum, 1620 61

Fac-simile title page Vitae et Mortis 67

Method of Cipher in Novum Organum 73

Publisher's Note. 76

Shakespeare Plays Fac-simile Quarto Title Pages 85

BI-LITERAL CYPHER.
DECIPHERED SECRET STORY. 1579 to 1590.

Shepherd's Calender 1579 '. . .Anonymous 79

The Araygnement of Paris . . .1584 George Peele 80

The Mirrour of Modestie 1584 Robert Greene 82

Planetomachia 1585 Robert Greene 87

A Treatise of Melancholy 1586 T. Bright 89

Euphues-Morando 1587 Robert Greene 91

Perimedes-Pandosto 1588 Robert Greene 93

Spanish Masquerade 1589 Robert Greene 94

PAKT II.
DECIPHERED SECRET STORY FROM

EDMUND SPENSER:

PAGE

Complaints, 1591 ..,. 1

Colin Clout, 1595 3

Faerie Queene, 1596 4

Faerie Queene, second part 7

SHAKESPEARE QUARTO:

Richard Second, 1598 10

GEORGE PEELE:

David and Bethsabe 11

SHAKESPEARE QUARTOS:

Midsommer Night's Dream, 1600 12

Midsommer Night's Dream, Fisher Ed 13

Much Ado About Nothing, 1600 14

Sir John Oldcastle and Merchant of Venice, Roberts Ed.,

1600 15

Richard, Duke o^ York, 1600 18

FRANCIS BACON:

Treasons of Essex, 1601 20

SHAKESPEARE QUARTO:

London Prodigal, 1605 23

FRANCIS BACON:

Advancement of Learning, 1605 25

SHAKESPEARE QUARTOS:

King Lear, 1608 33

King Henry The Fifth, 1608 34

Pericles, 1609 35

Hamlet, 1611 36

Titus Andronicus, 1611 38

EDMUND SPENSER:

PAGE

Shepheards Calender, 1611 40

Faerie Queene, 1613 43

BEN JONSON:

Plays in Folio, 1616 49

SHAKESPEARE QUARTOS:

Richard The Second, 1615 72

Merry Wives of Windsor, 1619 73

Contention of York and Lancaster, 1619 74

Pericles, 1619 '. 77

Yorkshire Tragedy, 1619 78

Romeo and Juliet, no date 79

ROBERT GREENE:

A Quip For an Upstart Courtier, 1620 80

FRANCIS BACON:

Novum Organum, 1620 81

The Parasceve 133

Henry The Seventh, 1622 136

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE:

Edward The Second, 1622 151

FRANCIS BACON:

Historia Vitae & Mortis, 1623 153

SHAKESPEARE PLAYS:

First Folio, 1623 165

ROBERT BURTON:

Anatomy of Melancholy, 1628 218

"Argument of the Iliad" 220

FRANCIS BACON:

De Augmentis Scientiarum, 1624 310

"Argument of the Odysses" 313

New Atlantis, 1635 334

Sylva Sylvarum, 1635, Rawley's Preface 339

Natural History 341

William Rawley's Note 368

FRANCIS BACON:

Parentage 2, 4, 17, 23, 45, 57, 78, 139, 172, 208, 312, 334,

347, 351.

Heir to Throne of England 5, 10, 14, 16, 20, 28, 33, 38, 49,

53, 66, 75, 83, 91, 100, 129, 132, 137, 141, 152, 166, 177, 190, 201,

205, 311, 342, 350, 353.

Story of Life 28, 49, 55, 65, 83, 108, 109, 119, 121, 133, 153, 166,

172, 181, 186, 190, 192, 200, 206, 208, 310, 343, 335.

Remorse over Essex and self justification 21, 40, 47, 104,

112, 160, 181, 211.

Fears 1, 3, 9, 11, 13, 27, 69, 81, 102, 129, 148, 187, 212, 343,

346, 348.

Hope from the Ages 13, 27, 36, 47, 49, 53, 71, 82, 116, 189, 190,

201, 208, 312, 346, 348.

Hope of Kingdom 46.

Kingdom of Science 190, 312.

Prayers 42, 10$, 139, 160, 178, 186, 211, 338.

Posterity 16, 71, 189, 190, 201, 219, 358.

QUEEN ELIZABETH:

1, 5, 10, 14, 16, 19, 22, 28, 33, 38, 41, 51, 59, 67, 69, 73, 83, 90, 108,
111, 119, 121, 130, 137, 154, 172, 177, 179, 181, 199, 205, 210, 311,
334, 351, 366.

EARL LEICESTER:

1, 4, 16, 17, 45, 59, 69, 71, 75, 84, 140, 207, 210, 359, 363.
Their Marriage 3, 16, 22, 28, 38, 46, 73, 75, 83, 90, 108, 133,
139, 142, 15-4, 172, 312, 334.

EARL OF ESSEX:

14, 17, 43, 59, 62, 68, 84, 111, 134, 183, 210, 310, 353, 360.
Essex Rebellion 20, 29, 38, 40, 47, 76, 172, 180, 208.
Essex Trial 42, 172.
Essex Murther 20, 55, 112, 151, 159, 172, 174, 178, 188.

MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS:
61, 63, 68, 362.
Death Warrant signed by Davison 365.

MARGUERITE OF NAVARRE:

12, 72, 79, 118, 120, 174, 181, 203, 205, 214, 311, 336, 3-15.

ROBERT CECIL:

10, 12, 18, 28, 172, 174, 335, 362.

WILLIAM RAWLEY:
137, 340, 368.

PRIVATE SECRETARY (RAWLEY):
'198.

CIPHERS:

Bi-literal 23, 25, 37, 51, 65, 70, 102, 111, 118, 120, 126, 129, 136,

165, 167, 189, 192, 196, 203, 215, 218, 310, 338, 357.

Word 38, 40, 47, 49, 52, 54, 56, 69, 75, 80, 82, 84, 101, 106, 110.

114, 118, 143, 148, 155, 159, 161, 165, 171, 177, 181, 183, 187, 189,

191, 194, 200, 215, 218, 312, 343, 346.

Other Ciphers 21, 37, 47, 66, 118, 152, 166, 181, 191, 196, 310,

338, 340.

Directions 34, 40, 47, 49, 51, 55, 57, 98, 122, 147, 151, 310, 338.

Method of Construction 53, 94, 119, 146, 187, 196, 214, 341,

343, 356, 360.

Iterant Rules 52, 215, 349, 352.

Bi-literal made difficult 66, 67, 82, 101, 136, 196.

MASQUES USED:

Edmund Spenser 4, 10, 27, 53, 81, 85, 111, 168, 180, 198,

204, 311.

William Shakespeare 3, 39, 54, 56, 63, 70. 93. 101, 111, 115,

157, 158, 166, 181, 198, 200, 204, 348.

Christopher Marlowe 3, 10, 26, 53, 93, 111, 166, 180, 181, 198,

200, 204, 349.

Robert Greene 3, 10, 26, 53, 111, 166, 180, 181, 198, 200, 204,

311, 349.

George Peele 3, 10, 26, 53, 93, 111, 152, 166, 180, 181, 198, 200,

204, 214, 311, 349.

Robert Burton 10, 111, 114. 152, 198, 200, 204.

Ben Jonson 26, 54, 59, 68, 111.

PARTIES KNOWING OF THE HIDDEN WORK:

76.

CIPHER WRITINGS:
165, 166, 202.

HIDDEN PLAYS:

23, 59, 90, 97, 103, 117, 125, 151, 180, 189, 194, 213, 352, 360, 367.

HIDDEN POEMS:

36, 95, 118, 165, 175, 202, 345.

NEW ATLANTIS COMPLETED IN CIPHER:
47, 130, 165, 359.

SPANISH ARMADA IN CIPHER:
63, 184, 199.

ARGUMENTS OF THE HIDDEN PLAYS:

5, 60, 85, 92.

TRANSLATIONS:

34, 36, 49, 53, 57, 114, 151, 165, 166, 167, 169, 170, 171, 173, 180,
202, 204, 214, 216, 218, 219, 341, 345, 352, 360.
Iliad 220.
Odyssey 312.

ORIGINAL EDITIONS OP WORKS USED IN DECIPHERING.
CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED.

EDMUND SPENSER:

Complaints, 1590-1591 Dodd, Mead & Co.

Colin Clout, 1595 Dodd, Mead & Co.

The Faerie Queene, 1596 Dodd, Mead & Co. and Harvard

Library.

The Shepherd's Calendar, 1611 Howard Publishing Co.

The Faerie Queene, 1613 Howard Publishing Co.

ROBERT GREENE:

A Quip for an Upstart Courtier,
1620... Marshall C. Lefferts, New York.

GEORGE PEELE:

David and Bathsabe, 1599 Boston Public Library.

* 9

CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE:

Edward II., 1622 Howard Publishing Co.

BEN JONSON:

Entertainment, 1616 Mrs. C. M. Pott, London, Eng.

King's Coronation, 1616 Mrs. C. M. Pott, London, Eng.

A Panegyre, 1616 Mrs. C. M. Pott, London, Eng.

The Masques, 1616 Mrs. C. M. Pott, London, Eng.

Sejanus, 1616 Mrs. C. M. Pott, London, Eng.

Plays, in Folio, 1616.
(Perfect copy.) Marshall C. Lefferts, New York.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:

Richard II., 1598 Boston Public Library.

Midsummer Night's Dream, Rob-
erts Ed., 1600 Lenox Library, New York.

Midsummer Night's Dream, Fish-
er Ed., 1600 Boston Public Library.

Much Ado About Nothing, 1600.... Boston Public Library.

Sir John Oldcastle, 1600 Boston and Lenox Libraries.

Merchant of Venice, J. Roberts
Ed., 1600 Boston Public Library.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE:

Richard Duke of York (Third

Henry VI.), 1600 Boston Public Library.

A London Prodigal, 1605 Lenox Library.

King Lear, 1608 Boston Public Library.

Henry V., 1608 Boston Public Library.

Pericles, 1609 Boston Public Library.

Hamlet, 1611 Boston Public Library.

Titus Andronicus, 1611 Boston Public Library.

Richard II., 1615 Boston Public Library.

Merry Wives of Windsor, 1619 Boston Public Library.

The Whole Contention of the

Houses of York and Lancaster,

(Second Henry VI.), 1619 Boston and Lenox Libraries.

Pericles, 1619 Boston and Lenox Libraries.

A Yorkshire Tragedy, 1619 Boston and Lenox Libraries.

Romeo and Juliet, (No date) Boston Public Library.

Plays in Folio, 1623 Howard Publishing Co. and

Boston and Lenox Libraries.

FRANCIS BACON :

A Declaration of the Treasons of

Essex, 1601 John Dane, M. D., Boston, Mass.,

and Boston Library.
Advancement of Learning, 1605 Howard Publishing Co.

Novum Organum, 1620 Howard Publishing Co.

The Parasceve, 1620 Howard Publishing Co.

History of Henry VII. , 1622 Howard Publishing Co.

Vitae et Mortis, 1623 John Dane, M. D., Boston, Mass.

De Augmentis Scientiarum, 1624... Mrs. C. M. Pott, London, Eng.

New Atlantis, 1635 Howard Publishing Co.

Sylva Sylvarum, 1635 Howard Publishing Co.

ROBERT BURTON:

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 1628.. Howard Publishing Co.

PART I.

The human understanding, when it has once adopted
an opinion (either as being the received opinion, or as
being agreeable to itself), draws all things else to sup-
port and agree with it. And though there be a greater
number and weight of instances to be found on the other
side, yet these he neglects and despises, or else by some
distinction sets aside and rejects, in order that by this
great and pernicious predetermination the authority of its
former conclusions may be inviolate.

NOVUM ORGANUM.

For as Soloman saith: He that cometh to seek after
knowledge, with a mind to scorn and censure, shall be
sure to find matter for his humor, but no matter for his
instruction.

ADV. OF LEARNING.

We have set it down as a law to ourselves to examine
things to the bottom, and not to receive upon credit, or
reject upon improbabilities, until there have been passed
a due examination.

NATURAL, HISTORY.

In which sort of things it is the manner of men, first
to wonder that such thing should be possible, and after
it is found out, to wonder again how the world should miss
it so long.

VALERIUS TERMINUS.

PEKSONAL.

TO THE READER:

The discovery of the existence of the Bi-literal Cipher
of Francis Bacon, found embodied in his works, and the
deciphering of what it tells, has been a work arduous, ex-
hausting and prolonged. It is not ended, but the results
of the work so far brought forth, are submitted for study
and discussion, and open a new and large field of investi-
gation and research, which cannot fail to interest all stu-
dents of the earlier literature that has come down to us as
a mirror of the past, and in many respects has been adopted
as models for the present.

Seeking for things hidden, the mysterious, elusive and
unexpected, has a fascination for many minds, as it has
for my own, and this often prompts to greater effort than
more manifest and material things would command. To
this may be attributed, perhaps, the triumph over diffi-
culties which have seemed to me, at times, insurmountable,
tne solution of problems, and the following of ways tor-
tuous and obscure, which have been necessary to bring out,
as they appear in the following pages, the hidden mes-
sages which Francis Bacon so securely buried in his writ-
ings, that three hundred years of reading and close study
nave not until now uncovered them.

This Bi-literal Cipher is found in the Italic letters that
appear in such unusual and unexplained prodigality in the
original editions of Bacon's works. Students of these old
editions have been impressed with the extraordinary num-
ber of words and passages, often non-important, printed in
Italics, where no known rule of construction would require
their use. There has been no reasonable explanation of
this until now it is found that they were so used for the

2 PERSONAL.

purposes of this Cipher. These letters are seen to be in
two forms two fonts of type with marked differences.
In the Capitals these are easily discerned, but the distin-
guishing features in the small letters, from age of the
books, blots and poor printing, have been more difficult to
classify, and close examination and study have been re-
quired to separate and sketch out the variations, and edu-
cate the eye to distinguish them.

How I found the Cipher, its difficulties, methods of
working, and outline of what the several books contain,
will more fully appear in the explanatory introduction.

In assisting Dr. Owen in the preparation of the later
books of "Sir Francis Bacon's Cipher Story," recently pub-
lished, and in the study of the great Word-Cipher discov-
ered by him, in which is incorporated Bacon's more exten-
sive, more complete and important writings, I became con-
vinced that the very full explanation found in De Aug-
mcntis, of the bi-literal method of cipher-writing, was
something more than a mere treatise on the subject. I
applied the rules given to the peculiarly Italicised words
and "letters in two forms," as they appear in the photo-
graphic Fac-simile of the original 1623, Folio edition, of
the Shakespeare Plays. The disclosures, as they appear in
this volume, were as great a surprise to me, as they will
be to my readers. Original editions of Bacon's known
works were then procured, as well as those of other authors
named in these, and claimed by Bacon as his own. The
story deciphered from these will also appear under the sev-
eral headings.

From the disclosures found in all these, it is evident
that Bacon expected this Bi-literal Cipher would be the first
to be discovered, and that it would lead to the discovery
of his principal, or Word-Cipher, which it fully explains,
and to which is intrusted the larger subjects he desired to
have preserved. This order has been reversed, in fact, and
the earlier discovery of the Word-Cipher, by Dr. Owen,
becomes a more remarkable achievement, being entirely

PERSONAL. 3

evolved without the aids which Bacon had prepared in this,
for its elucidation.

The proofs are overwhelming and irresistible that Bacon
was the author of the delightful lines attributed to Spen-
ser, the fantastic conceits of Peele and Greene, the his-
torical romances of Marlowe, the immortal plays and
poems put forth in Shakespeare's name, as well as the
Anatomy of Melancholy of Burton.

The removal of these masques, behind which Bacon
concealed himself, may change the names of some of our
idols. It is, however, the matter and not the name that
appeals to our intelligence.

The plays of Shakespeare lose nothing of their dramatic
power or wondrous beauty, nor deserve the less admiration
of the scholar and critic, because inconsistencies are re-
moved in the knowledge that they came from the brain of
the greatest student and writer of that age, and were not
a "flash of genius" descended upon one of peasant birth,
less noble history, and of no preparatory literary attain-
ments.

The Shepherds' Calendar is not less sweetly poetical,
because Francis Bacon appropriated the name of Spenser,
several years after his death, under which to put forth the
musical measures, that had, up to that time, only appeared
as the production of some Muse without a name; nor will
Faerie Queene lose ought of its rythmic beauty or romantic
interest from change of name upon the title page.

The supposed writings of Peele, Greene and Marlowe
are not the less worthy, because really written by one
greater than either.

The remarkable similarity in the dramatic writings at-
tributed to Greene, Peele, Marlowe and Shakespeare has
attracted much attention, and the biographers of each have
claimed that both style and subject-matter have been imi-
tated, if not appropriated, by the others. The practical
explanation lies in the fact that one hand wrote them all.

4 PERSONAL.

I fully appreciate what it means to bring forth new
truth from unexpected and unknown fields, if not in ac-
cord with accepted theories and long held beliefs. "For
what a man had rather were true, he more readily be-
lieves," is one of Bacon's truisms that finds many illus-
trations.

I appreciate what it means to ask strong minds to change
long standing literary convictions, and of such I venture
to ask the withholding of judgment until study shall have
made the new matter familiar, with the assurance mean-
while, upon my part, of the absolute veracity of the work
which is here presented. Any one possessing the original
books, who has sufficient patience and a keen eye for form,
can work out and verify the Cipher from the illustrations
given. ISTothing is left to choice, chance, or the imagina-
tion. The statements which are disclosed are such as could
not be foreseen, nor imagined, nor created, nor can there be
found reasonable excuse for the hidden writings, except for
the purposes narrated, which could only exist concerning,
and be described by, Francis Bacon.

I would beg that the readers of this book will 1 bring to
the consideration of the work minds free from prejudice,
judging of it with the same intelligence and impartiality
they would themselves desire, if the presentation were their
own. Otherwise the work will, indeed, have been a thank-
less task.

To doubt the ultimate acceptance of the truths brought
to light would be to distrust that destiny in which Bacon
had such an abiding faith for his justification, and which,
in fact, after three centuries, has lifted the veil, and
brought us to estimate the character and accomplishments,
trials and sorrows of that great genius, with a feeling of
nearness and personal sympathy, far greater than has been
possible from the partial knowledge which we have here-
tofore enjoyed.

ELIZABETH WELLS GALLUP.
Detroit, March 1st, 1899.

EXPLANATORY INTRODUCTION.

(FIRST EDITION.)

The most important literary discovery of the day is
that the well known Bi-literal Cipher of Francis Bacon
runs through a considerable number of the original editions
of the books of the Elizabethan era. The present vol-
made by Mrs. Elizabeth Wells Gallup. The present vol-
ume is the result of nearly three years spent in examining
and translating from these old books the hidden stories
which they contain stories startling and marvelous, which
serve to illumine much that has been mysterious and unex-
plainable concerning a most interesting period marked by
scientific progress and prolific in literature of a high order.
It was an age of intrigue and secret communication, and
cipher writing was a necessary branch of education to those
in public life. To Francis Bacon it became an absorbing-
passion throughout his life, as may be judged from the
voluminous and important matter now found to be infolded
in his writings and which has, until now, escaped attention.
In his work published in 1605, "Of the Advancement of
Learning," he makes a topic of Ciphers, as a branch of
educational progress, and hints at, but does not explain,
the bi-literal method of Cipher-writing, while he was at
the same time infolding, in the Italic letters of the book
itself portions of his own secret history, and facts concern-
ing the rebellion of Essex, in the manner in which he
asserts such messages might be hidden.

He continued to write Ciphers into his various works,
published from time to time, until 1623, when, none
having discovered the secret, the very success of the system
seeming likely to defeat its object, and when all personal

6 INTRODUCTION.

danger from a premature exposure of what he had written
was past, he published in the Latin version of "De Aug-
mentis Scientiarum" a clear and minute description and
illustration of this Cipher, hoping that it would be under-
stood, and fearing that nothing less would lead to its dis-
covery and translation.

The occasion for writing in cipher has been made appar-
ent as the decipherings have progressed, for it became the
means of conveying to a future time the truth which was
being concealed from the world concerning himself, his
royal birth his right to be King of England secrets of
State regarding Queen Elizabeth his mother and other
prominent characters of that day the correction of Eng-
lish history in important particulars, and the exposure of
the wrongs that had been put upon him.

Added to this, and most important of all to the ambi-
tions of his latter days, was the hope of thus bringing to
the knowledge of the world the greater field of literature
which he had occupied, unknown at that time, and unsus-
pected until recently, as the author of many books which
had been accredited to other names, and thereby secure in
the world of letters the wider fame and glory which he
craved, and which was his just due.

The names, other than his own, under which Bacon
published the brilliant literature of that era, were Christo-
pher Marlowe, George Peele, Robert Greene, Edmund
Spenser, William Shakespeare, and Robert Burton. The
Ciphers (more than one) are found in all these. The Bi-
literal Cipher runs through the works of Ben Jonson and
five of the shorter parts are from Bacon's pen. Shepherds'
Calendar was first published in 1579, nor was it till 1611,
twelve years after Spenser's death, that it was published
with Faerie Queene and attributed to Spenser.

That Francis Bacon wrote the Shakespeare Plays, and
the existence of Ciphers in them, has long been suspected,
and much time and study devoted to arguing, pro and con,

INTRODUCTION. 7

the several phases and probabilities of the question. The
same questions had not been raised, nor suggestion of other
authorship than appears upon the title pages, regarding the
others, until the discovery by Dr. O. W. Owen of the prin-
cipal, or AVord-Cipher, in the works of all of them, portions
of which have already been published as "Sir Francis
Bacon's Cipher Story." The translation of this bi-literal
Cipher in the following pages, with its directions as to how
the Word-Cipher is to be constructed, the keys to the
different stories to be written, the guides as to where to
find the matter pertaining to them, fully confirms what had
already been found by Dr. Owen, and removes all possible
doubt as to Bacon's authorship.

In the present volume is presented that part of the hid-
den writings which the bi-literal Cipher reveals in the fol-
lowing works: Francis Bacon's Of the Advancement of
Learning, .(1605), King Henry Seventh, (1622), De
Augmentis Scientiarum, (1624) Sylva-Sylvarum and New
Atlantis, (published by Rawley, 1635), Spenser's Shep-
herds' Calendar and short poems, (1611), Faerie Queene,
(1613), Jonson's Sejanus, and Masques, (1616), Mar-
lowe's Edward Second, (1622), the Shakespeare Plays,
(Folio 1623), Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, (1628).

In all of these are fragments of Bacon's personal history,
the statement that Elizabeth was the lawful wife of the
Earl of Leicester by a secret marriage, before becoming
Queen ; that the issue of this marriage was two sons, Fran-
cis Bacon, so-called, and Robert Devereux, afterward Earl
of Essex; that Francis was at birth received by Mistress
Ann Bacon and was reared and educated as the son of
Nicholas Bacon. It appears that at about the age of six-
teen Francis discovered the facts of his nativity through
the gossip of a Court lady, and in a fit of anger the Queen
acknowledged to him her motherhood and his son-ship, and
that he was immediately thereafter sent to France, and
subsequent action was taken by which he was barred from

8 INTRODUCTION.

the succession to the throne. In several of the books,
though more notably in the Shakespeare Plays, are explana-
tions of the "great Word-Cipher which shows all," with
keys to the different stories, their titles and directions for
deciphering them.

In the Shakespeare Plays, the chief dramatic work of
Bacon, is found the most important of the secret writings
committed to the Ciphers. Here, in, exttnso, are the prin-
cipal directions and manner of writing the Word-Cipher,
the keys and guides, the different works to be used and the
names under which they appear, the titles of the hidden
stories to be written out, and where the matter of which
they are to be constructed may be found. Much space is
devoted to the secret personal history of ^imself and his
brother, Robert, which the Queen saw fit to have concealed
from general knowledge.

His references to the trial and execution of Essex and
the part he was forced to take in his prosecution, are the
subject of a continual wail of unhappiness and ever-present
remorse, with hopes and prayers that the truth hidden in
the Cipher may be found out, and published to the world
in his justification. "0 God! forgiveness cometh from
Thee; shut not this truest book, my God! Shut out my
past, love's little sunny hour, if it soe please Thee, and
some of man's worthy work, yet Essex's tragedy here shew
forth; then posterity shall know him truly."

The various Introductions, Dedications, the Catalogue
of Plays and Characters, the Prologues, the headings of
the different Comedies, Histories and Tragedies (in the
orcler named), comprising a series of short passages, giving,
general directions for the work, are complete in themselves,
and at the end of each division occurs seme one of the sig-
natures by which Bacon was known, as if to authenticate
what had been written.

The more connected narrative is in the Plays, combined
in the order as given (in cipher) in the Natural History,
and in the Plays themselves as the deciphering advanced.

INTRODUCTION. 9

In this order the plays are linked together in the most
unmistakable manner, parts of words and sentences unfin-
ished at the end of one finding completion or continuance
in the next. Four breaks or omissions occur, however,
from inability thus far to gain access to the original edi-
tions of the books required, and from the fact that the
modern editions do not contain this Bi-literal, though the
Word-Cipher is easily traced in them. The first missing
link is Peele's Old Wives' Tale, which should precede
Twelfth Night. Its absence causes the latter to begin
abruptly, showing the omission of something which should
precede it in the deciphering. The second omission is the
Pinner of Wakefield, published as Greene's work, which
should precede the Merchant of Venice. The third omis-
sion is the Jew of Malta, of Marlowe, which should precede
the Merry Wives of Windsor. The fourth missing link is
at the end of Much Ado About Nothing, which closes with
an incomplete sentence, the remainder of which will be
found in the Tale of Troy. Hiren the Faire Greek (sup-
posed to be a lost play) should follow this and precede Win-
ter's Tale, which last begins with a continuation of some-
thing to be found in the missing work. The absence of
these books is not material, however, as the substance of
the Bi-literal story is so often repeated in the other works,
they are not necessary to an understanding of the whole.

On another page is copied from De Augmentis, as nearly
as may be with modern type, the illustration of the method
of infolding cipher writings by means of 'letters in two
forms," the letters infolding being quintuple those in-
folded. This plan was applied to the Italic letters, in the
books mentioned, with results which have been most sur-
prising in the variety and interest of the deciphered work.
The rule is simple and easily comprehended, but many
stumbling blocks occur in the books, placed there with the
evident purpose of making the deciphering more difficult,
which bring confusion to the work until removed. Each

10 INTRODUCTION.

book has its own peculiarities different letters and forms
a separate study. The first page of Henry VII., as it
herein appears, will explain some peculiarities, the changes
in the readings of the same forms of letters, the meaning
of the dots and other unusual markings, which close .stu-
dents of the old books have noted. Occasionally will be
found a Roman letter in an Italic word; this has to be dis-
regarded. Not infrequently Italic letters occur in a word,
the remainder of which is in Roman; these must be used.
There are occasional words in Roman type between words
in Italic that have to be used to form the groups necessary
to complete a Cipher word. In the illustration given in
the original De Augmentis, one of the Latin words ends
with a wrong termination, making one too many letters for
the group, and must be omitted. The error is corrected in
the English translation of 1640 and in subsequent editions.
One of the most puzzling of the many strange things
that have been observed but not explained has been the
duplication and misplaced paging in the originals. These
occur in nearly all the books that have been deciphered.
There are several in the Folio Shakespeare Plays, and they
are still more prominent in some of the other works. A
list is appended, with explanation of the pages which are to
be joined together in the deciphering. They bring the
work into instant confusion, until the proper duplicate page
is found and the two joined together in the order of pre-
cedence in which they occur, until all of that number are
deciphered, after which the consecutive pages continue the
story until some other break occurs, which has in turn to
be properly solved. Sometimes three, and in Advance-
ment of Learning four misplaced pages are found of the
same number in the same book.

To illustrate more fully: the first wrong paging in the
Folio Shakespeare occurs in Merry Wives of "Windsor.
After page 49 are 58-51. In the consecutive order there-

INTRODUCTION. 11

after, and following 58, is another 51. In deciphering, the
first 58 must be omitted until the first 51 is deciphered;
this must be followed by the second 51, then the regular
order resumed. When page 57 has been deciphered, it
must be followed by the first 58, and this by the second
58. There is no 50 or 59 in this division. In Comedy of
Errors, page 85 is followed by page 88, then 87, then 88
again. In deciphering, page 85 must be followed by 87,
this by the first 88, and this by the second 88. There is
no 86.

In Tempest, as deciphered, this direction occurs:
"Now join King Lear, King John, Romeo & Juliet "
etc. In the closing lines of King John, this: "Join
Romeo with Troy's famous Oressida if you wish to know
my story. Cressida in this play with Juliet, b " which
ends the Cipher in King John, with an incomplete word.
Turning to Romeo and Juliet (page 53) the remainder of
the word, and the broken sentence is continued, being a
part of the description of Marguerite, and the love Francis
entertained for her.

The deciphering of Romeo and Juliet proceeded with-
out interruption until page 76 was finished. The next
page is 79, but an attempt to go forward with it brought
confusion, the subject-matter not joining or relating to the
preceding subject. After much speculation and study, it
was recalled that Troilus and Cressida was to follow, and
that the first page of that play was 78. A trial of this
page brought out the letter and words which connected
with those on page 76 of Romeo and Juliet. At the end
of 79, of Troilus and Cressida, again came confusion, but
by joining Romeo and Juliet, 79, to this, and following by
page 80 of Troilus and Cressida, the narration was con-
tinued in proper order. There is no page 77 in Romeo
and Juliet, or in this division of the book.

Had the Cipher been less arbitrary, or subject to varia-
tion, or the story the invention of the decipherer, less time

12 INTRODUCTION.

and study would have been spent in finding joining parts,,
and nothing would have been known of the reasons for
wrong paging.

Some Keys relating to other Cipher work not yet deci-
phered are omitted.

Spelling was not an exact science in any of the works
of Bacon and if the old English is thought to be unique, it
must be attributed to the unsettled orthography if the six-
teenth century. Many abbreviations occur, marked by the
Lt tilda" in the old English, but which are not used in mod-
ern type. In the deciphered works the same diversity
exists as in the originals, the exact text being followed letter
by letter. Proper names, 'even, are not always spelled
alike. There was marked progress, how r ever, in the period
between the production of Bacon's first works and the last.
To Bacon, in greater degree than to any other, has been
accredited the enriching of the English language with new
words, but the spelling and expression of them have been
three centuries in crystalizing into the simplicity and uni-
formity of the present schools.

The Natural History, and ISTew Atlantis, was published
some years after Bacon's death, by Dr. Rawley, the private
secretary of whom Bacon speaks. In the Introduction and
table of contents, Eawley tells (in Cipher) the circum-
stances of its preparation. In the decyphering, the body
of the book was first worked out. In the Eighth Century
there came confusion of letters and it required considerable
study to find that the fonts of type had been changed in
some of the letters, i. e., what had been used as the "a"
font was changed to the "b" font, either by mistake, or for
purposes of confusion. After the main part of the book
had been finished, the Introduction by Eawley and table of
contents were deciphered, and this brought out that from
the Eighth Century Rawley had completed the work,

INTRODUCTION. 13

"yet I have stmnbliziglj proceeded with it and unwittingly
used some letters wrongly, as B I L M N P S
and Z." He also refers to his finishing Burton's Anatomy,
(1628) the edition used in this volume.

The reference to the signing of the death warrant of
Mary Queen of 'Scots, by the Secretary, Davison, instead
of by Elizabeth, and unknown to her, confirms what the
most recent historians have noted, and explains some in-
consistencies in the earlier accounts of Elizabeth's action.

Perhaps the most remarkable results, and certainly the
most unexpected, and greatest surprise, came from deci-
phering De Augmentis, and Burton's Anatomy of Melan-
choly. The history of the Anatomy is peculiar. It
appears in the Catalogue of the British Museum under the
assumed name of T. Bright, in the year 1586, or when
Burton was only about ten years old. Greatly enlarged,
it appears in 1621, and again in 1624, and again in 1628,
and at two later dates, under the name of Robert Burton, a
person of whom little is known, except as the supposed
author of this work alone, and as a living example of the
melancholy which it so felicitously describes. The Cipher
mentions both Bright and Burton as names under which
Bacon wrote the book, and also that the different editions
contain a different Cipher story.

The extraordinary part is that this edition conceals, in
Cipher, a very full and extended prose summary argu-
ment, Bacon calls it of a translation of Homer's Iliad.
In order that there may be no mistake as to its being
Bacon's work, he precedes the translation with a brief ref-
erence to his royal birth and the wrongs he has suffered
from being excluded from the throne. The Cipher also
tells that in the marginal notes, which are used in large
numbers in the book, may be found the argument to a
translation of the ^Eneid, but this has not been deciphered.

14 INTRODUCTION.

In De Augmentis is found a similar extended synopsis,
or argument, of a translation of the Odyssey. This, too,
is introduced with a reference to Bacon's personal history,
and although the text of the book is in Latin the Cipher is
in English.

The decipherer is not a Greek scholar "and would be in-
capable of creating these extended arguments, which differ
widely in phrasing from any translation extant, and are
written in a free and flowing style which will be recog-
nized as Baconian.

Homer was evidently a favorite author, and in all the
books deciphered it is repeated that the translations, in
Iambic verse, will be found in the Word-Cipher, and these
summaries are to aid in the production of them. Close
students of Shakespeare and Spenser have noted in the
plays and poems many fragments of the Iliad, and a portion
of that epic has already been deciphered.

The books deciphered cover a period of about twenty
years, in which Bacon was writing into them the secrets
of his life. The repetitions of the sorrowful story take on
the different moods in which he wrote and the variations
of mental activity during that long period.

Grieving over the tragic death of his brother, and his
part in bringing it about, which was an ever present cause
of remorse, and brooding over the wrongs and sorrows that
had been forced upon himself, his mind passes through
many changeful emotions as the years progress, and the
Bi-literal Cipher becomes the receptacle of his plaints the
escape valve of his momentary passions the record of his
lost hopes, and the expression of those which he still cher-
ished for the future in the prophecy, "I look out to the
future, not of years, but of ages, knowing that my labours
are for the benefit of a land very farr off, and after great

length of time is past."

ED.
Detroit, March, 1899.

PKEFACE.

SECOND EDITION.

Since the issue of the first small edition of "The Bi-literal
Cipher of Sir Francis Bacon" in April, 1899, (limited to
private circulation) the work of deciphering the hidden
story found in the old original books has gone steadily for-
ward, and the results are now presented with some gaps
filled, and chronological order of writing much more closely
followed through the increased number of volumes to which
access has been made possible.

The securing of the old original books necessary has been
no slight task. The sources from which they have been
obtained have been numerous. The first to be deciphered was
our own photographic Fac-simile of the 1623 Folio-secured
in London, from the scattered library of Lord Coleridge, the
book having his signature upon the title page. The dis-
closures found in this were the inspiration, and held the
directions which have led to the prosecution of the work
thus far so successfully accomplished. The private library
of old editions belonging to Mrs. C. M. Pott, the eminent
Baconian savante, of London, was placed at our disposal,
yielding valuable material. The old book stores of London
furnished some volumes. The collection of rare old books
of Dodd, Mead, & Co. was drawn upon. An old original
Henry Seventh was found and purchased from a New York
collection. In the invaluable collection of rare old books
in the private library of Marshall C. Lefferts, of New York,
were found some volumes not elsewhere procurable, and
these were kindly loaned to us. To Dr. John Dane, of

16 PREFACE.

Boston, we are also indebted for the loan of rare volumes
not in the libraries. The Boston and Harvard Libraries
held a considerable number of old editions and afforded
facilities for their use during several months of research.
The Lenox Library of New York also opened its choice col-
lection of original editions of Shakespeare, from some of
which photographic reproductions of title pages, dedica-
tions, etc., were taken. Upon another page will be found
a list of the editions used and where they were obtained.

In all, about 6,000 pages of these original editions have
been gone over, the Italic letters transcribed "in groups of
five," and each letter examined for the peculiarities which
should determine the particular font of type from which it
was printed, and its resulting significance in the Cipher
plan.

We have so far been unable to gain access to the neces-
saiy editions between 1579 and 1590 to determine the exact
date, and the book which holds the first dangerous experi-
ment of the inventor of this Cipher. Sufficient, however,
has been translated to outline the object, scope and main
features of the Bi-literal, as well as the plan of the "Word
Cipher, confirming both, as has been elsewhere stated and
establishing beyond question the authorship in Bacon of
the works in Avhich they are found.

The Cipher Story is unique in literature, first from the
peculiar method of hiding, and next, in what it tells. It
is not ours to reason why Francis Bacon should have taken
this method to communicate with the "far off ages." That
the reasons were sufficient to him, to induce great pains in
their transmission, is evident. It is sufficient for us to
have found the secret story, and record what we find, as we
find it. The mystery surrounding much of the Elizabethan

PREFACE. 17

period, and its conflicting records, suggest many things vet
to be discovered. The prosecution of the investigations
which shall unearth these must be left to those nearer the
scenes of action, having facilities beyond our present oppor-
tunities.

The discovery of the Cipher will doubtless put many on
the search, and finding so much will aid in delving deeper,
throwing side lights upon many things that have been in-
comprehensible, leading to further disclosures of value to
the historian and lovers of truth. It is to be hoped
that further search may be made for original papers,
clues followed that may lead to their location, that no stone
be left unturned which may seem to cover the hiding place
of manuscript or written line that will clear up any portion
of that which remains undiscovered.

HOWARD PUBLISHING COMPANY.

Detroit, June, 1900.

ARGUMENT.

All agree that two names stand at the head of the literary
achievements of the Elizabethan era William Shake-
speare, as a dramatic writer, and Francis Bacon, as the
greatest of writers in all branches, scientific, philosophic,
legal and literary, taking all knowledge for his province
the most learned man of his day.

Concerning the first, all writers agree that nothing is
known of him personally which points to eminence. Quot-
ing from George Brandes, the Danish writer, whose book
is among the strongest of the late writings upon the Plays,
and whose keen analysis of them is an education and a de-
light, we read : ""When we pass from the notabilities of
the nineteenth century to Shakespeare, all our ordinary
critical methods leave us in the lurch. We have, as a rule,
no lack of trustworthy information as to the productive
spirits of our own day and of the past two centuries. We
know the lives of authors and poets from their own accounts
of themselves or those of their contemporaries; in many
cases we have their letters; and we not only possess works
attributed to them but works which they themselves gave
to the press.

"It is otherwise with Shakespeare and his fellow drama-
tists of Elizabethan England. He died in 1616, and the
first biography of him, a few pages in length, dates 1709.
We possess no letters of Shakespeare and only one (a busi-
ness letter) addressed to him. Of the manuscript of his

ARGUMENT. 19

works, not a single line is extant. Our sole specimens of
his hand writing consist of five signatures, three appended
to his will, two to contracts, and one other of very doubtful
authenticity.

"We do not know how far several of the works attributed
to Shakespeare are really his. In the case of some of the
Plays, the question of authorship presents great and mani-
fold difficulties. In his youth Shakespeare had to adapt
or retouch the plays of others; in later life he sometimes
collaborated with younger men. * * * He seems
never to have sanctioned any publication, or to have read
a single proof sheet.

"It has become the fashion to say, not without some
show of justice, that we know next to nothing of Shake-
speare's life. We do not know for certain, either, when
he left Stratford or when he returned to Stratford from
London. We do not know for certain that he ever went
abroad, ever visited Italy. We can form but tentative
conjectures as to the order in which his works were pro-
duced, and can only with the greatest difficulty determine
their approximate dates. We do not know what made him
so careless of his fame as he seems to have been. We only
know that he himself did not publish his dramatic works,
and that he does not even mention them in his will."

There follow nearly 800 pages of critical analysis of
the plays, but so far as connecting Shakespeare's personal-
ity in any way with the authorship of them is concerned, it
is admittedly pure romance and every statement a con-
jecture.

Concerning Francis Bacon, his life, from the age of
twelve years, when in the halls of learning, he took issue
with his preceptors upon the gravest questions, is an open

20 ARGUMENT.

book, in which is recorded the formative progress of a
great mind, advancing in knowledge and in honors to the
position of Lord High Chancellor of England, and in the
world of letters to a world-wide fame as the greatest genius
of that age.

For nearly fifty years now there has been growing doubt
as to the -authorship of the plays appearing under the name
of William Shakespeare, and a growing belief that the name
was the nom-de-plume of another person or persons, and
only by its similarity, coupled with the fact of his being an
actor, did it attach to the man Shaks-per from Stratford.

That Bacon was the real author was apparently first sug-
gested by the similarity of philosophy and sentiment of
parallelisms in thought and expression, and with the deeper
study of these, the Bacon-Shakespeare question was upon us.

Mr. Fiske tells of "Forty Years of the Bacon-Shakespeare
Folly," and although the books that have been written upon
the subject would form a considerable library of them-
selves, he "forgot to classify them," but as an afterthought
considered they should have been placed with those of
"Cranks and their Crochets," which he consigned to the
department of "Insane or Eccentric" literature. He
brushes aside, in that delightfully sarcastic way of his, as
unimportant, the deep researches the gathering together
of data and facts that throw new light upon the Elizabethan
period the evolution of which has resulted in placing in
our hands the positive proofs that not only the plays, but
some other literature attributed to other authors, came from
the hand and brain of Francis Bacon.

Bacon says that 'tis the mysterious that attracts.

The discussion of authorship has given impulse to the
study of that period. It is found to be full of mystery.

ARGUMENT. 21

The records of its literature and history lack conciseness and
certainty, are in many things irreconcilable, leading to
much speculation and conjecture, stimulating the search for
documents, manuscripts, data, anything authentic to correct
manifest inconsistencies and furnish missing links in the
narrative.

The question of Ciphers in the Plays dates back to the
early discussion of authorship. Much time and effort in
searching for them have been expended without avail. Two
principal Ciphers have now, however, been found and devel-
oped, not only in the Plays, but in some other of the old
books of that day which throw a flood of light upon the
mysteries that have been so puzzling.

The first to be discovered was the Word Cipher, by Dr.
Owen; the second was Bacon's Bi-literal Cipher, by Mrs.
E. "W. Gallup, who had been associated with Dr. Owen in
the preparation of the later books published under his name.
Both Ciphers have been worked out to sufficient length
nearly 2,000 pages to disclose their great historical and
literary value, to confirm them both, and to solve effectu-
ally and satisfactorily many of the questions that have been
in doubt. They furnish positive proofs of their own exist-
ence, and tell a narrative as varied, as interesting, as roman-
tic, as any on the printed page, holding much of truth that
has never been told.

The Bi-literal Cipher is not new. It is the invention of
Bacon while in France, and is more or less familiar to every
student of his works, for no "De Augmentis" is without its
chapter on ciphers, and the illustration of this, as Bacon
terms it, the highest type of cipher writing. And it is
familiar to many in a practical way, who may never have
known that it is the basis of the most important cipher codes

22 ARGUMENT.

in use at the present day. What is new, and startling, and
what renders the work of Mrs. Gallup of inestimable value,
is her discovery that this Cipher exists in the original writ-
ings of its inventor, and records the secrets of his own life,
with the reasons for their hiding, a fitting object and motive
for its use.

The revelations of the Ciphers are startling, and yet
they are repeated in the different books with such circum-
stantiality of detail such accord with recorded history, so
far as the records show that we are forced against OUT
wills to acknowledge their truth.

First : Bacon tells us how and why he wrote these im-
portant Ciphers into his works. The Bi-literal describes
the other and contains full instructions for writing both,
the topics and an epitome of what was to be written out, the
keys and where the material was to be found from which
to build the more important structure of the Word Cipher
which would comprise History, Tragedy, Comedy and Ro-
mance, in fact, a new literature as fascinating as strange,
concerning the life and times of Bacon as they were, and
differing materially from what they had been made to
appear.

Secondly: That he was the author, though unknown
as such, of works masqued under the name of Spenser,
Shakespeare, Marlowe, Greene, Peele and Robert Burton;
that five short plays written by Bacon were printed as Ben
Jonson's; that Jonson's own works contained the Cipher,
in the Italic letters, by permission, which fact is certified to
in a Cipher letter over Jonson's own name, and repeated
in the Cipher narrative, found in the other books.

Thirdly: The details of his parentage and secret per-
sonal history. As these were being vigorously denied and

ARGUMENT. 23

suppressed by the Queen, the hidden story was a dangerous
one for Bacon to record, and the fear of its discovery in the
earlier years of its infolding was ever present with its
author; but as time passed, and with it the personal peril,
came the fear that these most important matters would not
be brought to light and his life work in recording them
would be lost. After at least thirty-five years of cipheir
writing, as so far traced, he published in the Latin his great
work, De Augmentis, and in the chapter on Ciphers gave a
full explanation and the key to the system, and yet it has
waited for three hundred years for an eye sufficiently acute
to note its existence in the numerous books, and the indomit-
able patience and perserverance to follow it, letter by letter,
through nearly six thousand pages of original editions, as
the long story has been unfolded.

In almost every work are found repetitions of some of
the chief statements, though in different form. The rea-
son given for this was that the writer could not expect the
decipherer would begin where the Cipher itself began, and
also that, should any book be lost, the plan could still be
followed from what the others should reveal.

A marked feature of the deciphered work is his agony of
spirit and remorse over the action he was compelled to take,
at the Queen's commands, in the trial of Essex, his younger
brother the second son of the Queen and Leicester. His
efforts to excuse and justify himself before the world in a
later age pathetic in the extreme is made to appear as
one of the strong motives' for the use of the Cipher.

The earliest edition of books so far accessible to us in
which the Bi-literal Cipher has been found, is Spenser's
Muiopotmos, 1590. It was at an earlier date than this that
the dangerous experiment was launched, and it is a matter

24 ARGUMENT.

of regret that so far we have been unable to gain access to
earlier editions, for in some of these, between 1579 and
1590, the initial or starting point will be discovered.

For a period of about thirty-five years, then, as we have
said between 1590 and the death of Bacon this progres-
sive narrative has beeii traced, and while it is not all the
list of works to be deciphered, the repetitions establish the
scope and time and plan of the work.

Two distinct purposes are served by the two Ciphers.
The Bi-literal was the foundation which was intended to
lead to the discovery of the other, and is of prime import-
ance in its directions concerning the construction of the
Word Cipher, the keys, and the epitome of the topics which
were to be written out by its aid. It seems, also, to have
been the expression of the writer's thoughts of the moment,
a sort of diary which caught and recorded the passing emo-
tions, day by day, without regard to what had gone before
or would follow, and as in many another diary, we find ex-
pressed in different words the trend of the mind as affected
by the varying moods sometimes sad and mournful
again defiant and rebellious and again despondent, almost
in despair, that his wrongs might fail of discovery, even in
the times and land afar off to which he looked for greater
honor and fame, as well as vindication.

Chafing under the cloud upon his birth, the victim of a
destiny beyond his control which ever placed him in a false
position, defrauded of his birthright, which was of the
highest, he committed to this Cipher the plaints of an out-
raged soul. The decipherer alone shares the confidences
of his inmost heart. To the decipherer he unbends to
the rest of the world maintains the dignity which marked
his outward life. To the decipherer, and behind the

ARGUMENT. 25

scenes, throws off restraint and records the bitterness of the
thought which the moment brings to the world exhibits
the stately movement, the careful thought, the studied
expression. It is a wonderful revelation of the undercur-
rents of a hidden life. But it is less smooth much of it
as a literary production than the other, except in those
parts given to the historical portions which he sketched out
as the frame work for amplification in the Word Cipher.

The method of the Word Cipher, discovered by Dr.
Owen now found to be so fully explained .by the great au-
thor in the Bi-literal Cypher, is quite different, and dis-
closes matter of rare value as literary productions and of
the most intense interest, embodying that which was the
hope of Bacon, would not only establish his true character
and birthright, but would bring added fame to the writings
that had been published, through those of nearly equal
volume which were concealed within the lines, as first writ-
ten, for the pages with which we are familiar are a recon-
struction to hide the secret story.

The Bi-literal is exact scientific inflexible. The
translation of the Word Cipher, however, like translations
from the Greek the Iliad or the Odysses, for example is,
within certain limitations, more elastic. There might be
variation in the phrasing of two people, but the substance
would be in accord from the hands of experienced crypto-
graphers. In the modern editions of the works the Bi-
literal has been obliterated by the elimination of the Italic
letters. The Word Cipher, however, can be followed in
modern editions, not with quite the exactness of the origi-
nals, but in substance, and with the smoothness gained by
editing and eliminating some seeming incongruities. But

26 ARGUMENT.

Bacon himself says, "Commonly, the most corrected copies
are the least correct."

To many it will seem strange, if not well nigh incredible,
that a Cipher message could come down to us in this way,
uncovering matters that had slept through three centuries,
hidden within the splendid literature so carefully studied,
dissected and analyzed for hidden meanings as have been
the Plays and the works of Bacon. To some it comes like
a blow; traditions shattered history turned awry yet
there is no destruction : all is there that was there before
and much more. It is the matter we have loved, not the
man! The mind's the man! 'tis simply change and
"what's in a name ?"

We are asked "what matters it" whether this be so or
not? Why delve into the mysteries of the past, and un-
settle things '4 It is true, effort in this direction does not
build magnificent bridges, nor does it plan or dig tunnels
of gigantic proportions and tremendous utility. It does
not develop a new use for Electricity, or the possibilities of
Liquid Air! But when we contemplate the building of
great temples of knowledge, where shall be gathered and
exposed for study the best that past and present has to
offer, is it not worth the cost to study truth for truth's sake?
And when we come to decorate the memorial arch with the
figures that best typify the greatest and best in the world's
past of Arts, Sciences, Sculpture, Painting, representing
the acme of human achievements in each of these, and
shall seek to surmount by a face, a figure or a name which
shall typify Literature as embracing all Arts, is it not
worth our while to be very sure we name the man aright?
It is laudable as well as duty to pursue all threads of light
which may illumine what has been admittedly a grave ques-

ARGUMENT. 27

tion, and be very sure the monument shall be truthful.
Music, Sculpture, Art, may be inspiration, with a modicum
of preliminary instruction, and we have the careers of those
who justly typify these in records of acknowledged authen-
ticity but can we believe that a finished Literature, with
a vocabulary thrice that in previous use, can come from
inspiration alone?

Granting that the Shakespeare Plays stand at the head
of all English literature, we can now speak with the bold-
ness of certainty that Francis Bacon was the author, and
hence Truth and Justice demand that no other face or
form shall occupy the highest place in the modern Pan-
theon that no other should stand first in the galaxy of
great names, as the greatest genius of them all.

NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS.

Justin Winsor, in his Bibliography of Shakespeare, says
regarding the first Folio edition of 1623 :

"It is not likely that, even at this late day, all the copies
existing in England are known to such as may be cognizant
of their value. One was discovered in 1857, in a carpen-
ter's shop, among a lot of old books that had been bought
for a few shillings; and similar surprises will doubtless
again happen. Copies are known to exist in Germany, in
Spain, and probably elsewhere on the Continent.

"Steevens says that he discovered in a manuscript note
in a copy belonging to White, a bookseller in Fleet Street,
London, that the book was published at 1, a sum repre-
senting, of course, several times the value at the present
day; Grant White giving it at $25.00.

"It was in 1864 that the bibliomaniac fervor over the
first folio of Shakespeare made its most pronounced display
at the Daniel's sale. A bidder representing Almon W.
Griswold, of New York, carried the figures high above all
previous reckonings; but the agent of Miss Burdett-Coutts
secured it for that lady's collection at 716, the highest
mark then reached, and it has not since been surpassed."

Prices at which original copies of the first Folio, have
since been sold have largely exceeded the above amount.
The copy belonging to the late Augustin Daly brought
$5,400 at the great sale in March, 1900.

NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 29

At the time of the publication of Winsor's Bibliography,
but nineteen copies of the Folio were known to be in the
United States, but the number is now greatly increased.
Under the head of "Copies in the United States, as far as
Known/' commenting upon the copy in possession of the
Boston Public Library, Mr. Winsor writes that it "was
bought by Mr. Barton of Thos. Kodd, the London book-
seller, in 1845, standing No. 8127 in his catalogue for that
year; and 110 was paid for it."

" 'No such copy, in point of completeness and size,'
wrote Mr. Rodd, who reserved it for Mr. Barton from the
first, 'had been sold by public auction for many years; and
for a fine one, Mr. Pickering, the bookseller, gave four
years since 150, and sold it immediately for a considerable
advance.' Kodd received it in an old, but not original,
binding, and was careful that, while it was in Lewis's hands,
it should neither be cut, nor the ink-marks or other stains
removed.' '

Mr. Winsor further states: "A* copy belonging to Mr.
Lenox has seemingly the date 1622; but Joseph Lilly, the
bookseller, in a note to "The Literary Gazette,' March 8,
1862, gives his view, that 'there is no copy with the date
1622, the figure "3" being imperfectly worked (or battered)
in that particular copy in which it appears.' '

This copy cost in 1855, 163 16s. It is called the Baker
copy.

One of the assistant librarians at the Lenox Library dis-
covered the secret of the apparent date, 1622, which has
been verified by a representative of the Howard Publishing
Co. The title page was "inlaid" in such a manner that an
edge of the margin covered the lower part of the long "3,"
and a slight pen stroke made the upper part appear as a

30 NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS.

"2." Examining the leaf with a lens, the entire figure
"3" is plainly seen, the lower part showing through the
paper when held to the light.

In fact, it is well known that the Folio appeared for the
first time in 1623, and in the Cipher it is seen that it follows
Vitsc & Mortis, published in the same year.

The old vexed questions regarding pirated editions of
the quartos, or attempts to determine which was first of
those put out in the same year, find answer in the Bi-literal,
directly or by plain inference. If connected in such a way
that the Cipher Story would otherwise be incomplete, prior-
ity is thus determined. Often one work mentions other
editions. In deciphering Ben. Jonson's Folio, it was found
that sixty plays were written as early as 1616. Of these,
fifty-six had been traced. Search for the missing four led
to an examination of those which some critics have rejected
as spurious or under suspicion. Of these it was found that
Pericles, Sir John Old-castle, London Prodigal, and York-
shire Tragedy containe'd the Cipher, thus completing the
list of sixty referred to, and establishing the genuineness of
these four.

The Yorkshire Tragedy has the peculiar title :

ALL'S ONE
or

ONE OP THE FOUR PLAIES IN ONE, CALLED

A YORKSHIRE TRAGEDIE,

as it was plaid by

THE KING'S MAIESTIES PLAYERS.

NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 31

These are by no means the only plays weighed in the
balance.

In Justin Winsor's "Note on the Authorship of the
Three Parts of Henry Sixth" we read :

"Hudson says that 'Malone figured out that the two plays
[second and third parts], in their present state, contain
6,043 lines, and that of these 1,899, or nearly one-third
were original in the Folio; 2,373, something more than a
third, were altered from the quarto; and 1,771, which is
something less than a third, were the same in both. Nearly
all the matter of the quartos is retained in the Folio; the
rejections being few and small.'

"That one or both were written in part by Shakespeare
is the opinion of Drake, who holds that Shakespeare im-
proved the works of others ; of Hartley Coleridge, who says,
'The True Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke was cer-
tainly the original which Shakespeare partially retouched
without much improving the rudeness of the outline'; of
Hunter, who says, 'They have evidently much of Shake-
speare's hand, but there are in them portions of an inferior
hand'; and of Part II., Hunter again says, 'Shakespeare
was employed in altering and amending the work of a pre-
ceding and inferior dramatist, but there is much from his
hand, and some parts in this and in the third play are even
in his best manner' ; of Halliwell, who thinks 'Part III. is
an older drama, with such interpolations from Shakespeare
as could be collected from notes at the theatre'; of the
Cambridge editors, who think 'Shakespeare had a consider-
able share in them' ; of Grant White, who holds that 'they
contain the work of Greene, Marlowe and Shakespeare, and
of such material parts of them as were transferred to the

32 NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS.

Second and Third Parts of Henry Sixth were Shakespeare's
own.'

"Staunton agrees with Halliwell that the old plays
showed Shakespeare's additions to an undiscovered original.
Rives, in his Essay, agrees with Grant White, that Shake-
speare wrote the parts of Clifford and Warwick, and Greene
those of Richard and Edward.

"They are held to be of other authorship than Shake-
speare's by Theobald, Warburton, Drake, Hallam, Har-
ness, etc.

"That they are attributable to Robert Greene is held by
Gervinus to be a plausible conjecture.

"They are given to Marlowe in the Chalmer's Catalogue.
Malone ascribes Part III. to Marlowe; and Hartley Cole-
ridge says of the same part, that 'it is ascribed to Marlowe
with much probability.' Dyce strongly suspects both parts
to have been wholly from the pen of Marlowe.

"They are ascribed to Greene and Marlowe by many."

In George Brandes scholarly work of recent date we
read :

"Though there are doubtless in the older plays portions
unworthy of Shakespeare, and more like the handiwork of
Greene, while others strongly suggest Marlowe, both in
matter, style and versification, there are also passages in
them which cannot be by anyone else than Shakespeare.
And while most of the alterations and additions which are
found in the second and third parts of Henry VI. bear the
mark of unmistakable superiority, and are Shakespearian
in spirit no less than in style and versification, there are at
the same time others which are decidedly un-Shakespearian
and can almost certainly be attributed to Marlowe. He
must, then, have collaborated with Shakespeare in the

NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 33

adaptation, unless we suppose that his original text was care-
lessly printed in the earlier quartos, and that it here reap-
pears, in the Shakespearian Henry VI., corrected and com-
pleted in accordance with his manuscript.

"Other additions also seem only to have restored the
older form of the plays those, to wit, which really add
nothing new, but only elaborate, sometimes more copiously
than is necessary or tasteful, a thought already clearly indi-
cated. But there is another class of additions and altera-
tions which surprises us by being unmistakably in Mar-
lowe's style. If these additions are really by Shakespeare,
he must have been under the influence of Marlowe to a
quite extraordinary degree. Swinburne has pointed out
how entirely the verses which open the fourth act of the
Second Part are Marlowesque in rhythm, imagination and
choice of words; but characteristic as are these lines they
are by no means the only additions which seem to point
to Marlowe."

Regarding the variations "additions and alterations"
and oftentimes omissions Bacon says in the Bi-literal
Cipher: "I alwaies alter even when there bee more to
adde, and I may take many of the parts put out in Quarto
form to reset th' same, having made a planne to increase
one, by making a likeness in th' theame easily suit th'
thoughts and ene sundry verses of others. It may be a
long time ere I can put into use most choice lines so cul'd
from early plays" *

Concerning the diversity of style, he also says in the
Cipher : "I varied my stile to suit different men, since no
two shew th' same taste and like imagination."** And

*Page 156. **Page 200.

34 NOTES ON THE SHAKESPEARE PLAYS.

again : "When I have assum'd men's names, th' next step
is to create for each a stile naturall to the man that yet
should let my owne bee scene, as a thrid of warpe in my
entire fabricke,"*** while in his open work we find, "Style
is as the subject-matter."

The Bi-literal Cipher has been extracted from more
than one edition of some of the plays. On, comparison, it
appears that while some of the different editions vary but
slightly in the text, yet in the words that are Italicised the
changes are very great, and in that manner each is made to
tell a different hidden story. Two quarto editions of
Pericles (1609 and 1619), Merchant of Venice (both dated
1600), Richard II. (1598 and 1615), and Midsummer
Night's Dream (1600), have been deciphered, besides the
three last named plays as they are printed in the Folio,
where the Italicised words are still different from those in
either of the quartos. The Italics used in Eichard II
(1615), quarto, are nearly double the number used in the
edition of 1598, and in the Folio are still greater variations
in the particular words Italicised and in the number of
them, as well as in the fonts of type from which the letters
were chosen. Thus is shoAvn that the variations, as well as
other seeming inconsistencies in typography, style, and
matter, are for the purposes of the Cipher, and, we repeat,
they prove conclusively that Bacon was the author.

KATE E. WELLS.

***Page 54.

STENOGRAPHY, OE "SHOKT-HAKD" WKITING
IN THE TIME OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

The opinion has not infrequently found expression that
it was beyond the ability of Francis Bacon, great writer
as he was, to have written all the matter that, through the
Cipher, is now attributed to him, and to correct the impres-
sion which is prevalent that "Short-hand" methods were not
in use at that time, we give place to the following article
from the pen of Mrs. C. M. Pott, in Baconiana, London,
January, 1900.

It appears that an argument against the possibility
of Francis St. Alban being the author of all that has
been claimed for him, is based upon at least one great
fallacy, namely, tht Francis St. Alban could not have
transmitted his thoughts and conceptions (as some of
us maintain that he did) verbally, so that his utterances
could be taken down in "short-hand" by some of his
secretaries. "It is," says one correspondent, "the gen-
eral belief that there were no 'short-hand' methods in
those days, and that transcribing as well as printing
was a slow and laborious process, and we cannot
make people believe to the contrary."

The present lines are written not with the intention
of giving a history of stenography, but in order once
and for all to do away with this mistaken idea amongst
our own circle of readers, however much the erroneous
belief may remain with "the general."

-"36 STENOGRAPHY, OR SHORT-HAND WRITING.

The first English book on Stenography seems to
have been that published by T. Bright, in 1588. Here
we may pause to note three particulars :

1. T. Bright was Dr. Timothy Bright, under
whose name the "Anatomy of Melancholy" was first
published in 1587. This edition is entered in the
British Museum Catalogue as the work of T. Bright.
The subsequent editions take 110 notice of Bright, but
are published in the name of Burton. "What's in a
name?" In the introduction to the "Biliteral Cipher
of Francis Bacon" the Editor, calling attention to
these facts, adds that "The Cipher mentions both
Bright and Burton as names under which 'Bacon'
wrote the book, and also that the different editions
contain each a different cipher story."

2. "T. Bright" dedicated his book on short-hand
writing to Queen Elizabeth, with the title "Charac-
terie, or the Art of Short, Swift and Secret Writing."

3. At the time of the publication of this book,
Erancis was 27 years of age, and passing through a
period of the greatest leisure which he ever enjoyed.
From 1586 to 1590 there is hardly a trace of his do-
ings, but the press was teeming with and issuing works
of all kinds the English Renaissance had begun.

To the Treatise on Short Writing of 1588, there
followed "The Writing School-master," by "Peter
Bale." Here we are told that "Brachygraphy, or the
art of writing as fast as a man speaketh treatably, may
in appearance seem difficult, but it is in effect very-
easy, containing a many commodities under a few
principles, the shortness whereof is obtained by mem-
ory, the swiftness by practice, the sweetness by indus-
try." A most Baconian utterance suggestive of its
true source. The date of this book is 1590.

The next attempt towards improvement in the art
seems to have been printed in 1 602 by "John Willis."
It was entitled "The Art of Stenographic or Short
Writing by Spelling Characterie," and after this had

passed through numerous editions, a fresh treatise was
published by Edmund Willis, in 1618, and two more
in 1630, b t y Witt and Dix. These few facts must
surely be sufficient to prove that short-hand writing
began and flourished in the reign of Elizabeth, and
was vigorously used and improved upon during the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

That Francis not only first introduced the art, but
that he made good use of it the present writer does not
for an instant doubt. The scanty records published
of his mysterious private life seem in many places to>
hint, although they do not plainly affirm that this was
the case.

Hear the saying of Dr. Rawley, when describing hi?
master's habits of perpetual industry and the delight
of his conversation.

"His meals were refections of the ear as well as of
the stomach, like the Noctes Atticse, or Convi-
viae Deipno-sophistarum, wherein a man might be re-
freshed in his mind and understanding no less than
in his body. And I have known some, of no mean
parts, that, have professed to make use of their note-
books when they have risen from his table" (so they
went prepared with note-booka).

Peter Boehner, private secretary and medical at-
tendant to Erancis "Bacon," describes how in the
morning he would call him or some other of his secre-
taries to his bedside, and how they wrote down from
his lips the thoughts and ideas which he had conceived
in the night. Had this process been so "slow and
laborious" as the general belief is supposed to warrant,
our indefatigable and nimble-minded author would
have had to pass most of his days in bed. On the con-
trary, we think it far more probable that the amanu-
ensis could write as fast as a man could speak "treat-
ably," or in other words slowly and with deliberation,
as (in the Short ]S"otes for Civil Conversation) he en-

38 STENOGRAPHY, OR SHORT-HAND WRITING.

joins upon others who would speak pleasantly and to

be understood: "In all kinds of speech it

is convenient to speak leisurely, and rather drawingly
than hastily" giving as one reason for this, that "a
slow speech confirmeth the memory." Doubtless it
is a great help to the writer from dictation.

Now if Francis did from the age of, say 25, dictate
to his short -hand writers the thoughts which followed
each other through his wonderful brain, his reflections
on the philosophies which he was studying, his com-
ments upon books, which he read, notes and sketches
of proposed works, or revised matter ready for the
press if he seldom put pen to paper, but in elbow
chair, with head resting on his hand (and "thus he
sat") dictated in the abundance of his full heart and
mind to his expert short-hand writers, they in due
course transcribing and writing fair the sheets which
he had but to read, and if needful to correct and polish
what a mass of matter could he thus have produced
and given to the world under any name but his own !
"Would that our own thoughts and utterances were
worthy of a like method of preservation. We could
then exclaim with Armado in Love Labour's Lost:
"Devise wit; write pen; for I am for whole volumes
in folio."

FKANCIS BACON.

The life of Francis Bacon presents many and sharp con-
trasts. From his earliest childhood, which was full of the
promise of a bright intelligence, until the end of his life,
he was in touch with all that was deemed great and most to
be desired. It was full of high hopes deferred, with great
and well-warranted expectations alternating with disap-
pointments. The apparent fulfillments, like dead sea fruit,
turned to ashes on his lips. After a life of weary but un-
successful place seeking, success and splendor were speedily
followed by deepest humiliation. Seeming inconsisten-
cies in his conduct and his character have been the fruitful
theme of the highest eulogy and of strongest condemnation;
those who knew him best, loved, admired and revered him,
and his biographers have been able to give, or suggest, rea-
sons, if not excuse for certain episodes in his life, for which
others have had but unsparing censure. As the value of
his literature to-day does not depend upon his conduct three
hundred years ago, we can leave this question where it
stands, rather than dull with censure our appreciation of his
genius.

This man who, as many authorities assert, was endowed
with the greatest intellect of the human race, was born in
London in 1561.

40 FRANCIS BACON.

The recent Cipher discoveries go to show that he was the
son of Elizabeth, afterward Queen of England, who, while
imprisoned in the Tower of London, before her coronation,
was secretly married to the Earl of Leicester, and this son
should by right have borne the title, Prince of Wales. The
dates of the imprisonment of Leicester and Elizabeth in
the Tower correspond sufficiently with the assertion. A
matter so vitally affecting the destinies of England and
Elizabeth's succession to the crown could not then be
divulged and the child was given to Anne and Nicholas
Bacon and reared as their own, under the name by which
he has since been known. His foster father was Lord
Keeper of the Great Seal of England. His foster mother
was eminent for piety, virtue and learning, and was highly
skilled in the Greek and Latin tongues.

At twelve years of age, when most children are but be-
ginning to think, he entered Trinity College, Cambridge,
where, we are told, the students were forbidden to use even
in conversation, any other language than Latin, Greek or
Hebrew. While at this College, from his thirteenth to his
fifteenth year, this marvelous boy, studying the philosophy
of Plato and Aristotle in the original tongue, became dis-
satisfied with the futility of much that was taught. He left
College before he was sixteen, with his mind formed, and
habits of research fixed, thenceforth to mature in intellec-
tual independence and to become the supreme scholar of
the age.

When sixteen years of age he discovered his parentage
and was at once sent to France with the English Ambassa-
dor, where he remained something over two years, until
recalled by the death of Sir Nicholas Bacon, who, contrary

FRANCIS BACON. 41

to expectation, left no provision for Francis in his will,
which becomes significant in the light of the recent dis-
coveries. It has always been thought strange by his
biographers that his supposed father, Nicholas Bacon, made
no provision for his support. Reasons of State, and reasons
of vast import to the Queen of England, united with the
unwillingness of the Queen to acknowledge early indiscre-
tions, prevented the recognition of the rights of Francis, as
heir apparent. He was made to understand that he must
shift for himself, and taking up the study of law as the
most promising resource, the next five years required by the
course, he spent largely at Gray's Inn. How much time
was devoted to law, and how much to literature and philo-
sophical studies is unknown.

At twenty-five, amid exciting times, he was elected to
Parliament and was a member of the House of Commons
for several sessions. His aspirations for preferment were
held in check during Elizabeth's reign, but with the advent
of King James he was more rapidly advanced until he be-
came Lord High Chancellor of England.

Three years later he was sentenced for judicial corrup-
tion to a heavy fine and imprisonment, but the sentence
was remitted, as if the injustice of it was too patent to be
enforced. The five remaining years of his public life were
spent in his literary labors, and the publication of his works,
and his career closed at the age of a little less than 66 years
in 1626. By his will, drawn just after his sentence, he be-
queathed his name ' ; to the next ages and to foreign na-
tions," &. bequest literally carried out, as those of the present
day hav > become in the broadest sense his legatees.

A recent writer says : "Whether as a politician or as. a
justiciary, a philosopher or man of the world, there is in

42 FRANCIS BACON.

English historv no nobler character than that of Francis
Bacon, yet no one has been more misapprehended, more
misrepresented, more maligned, than has he." "He was
the most remarkable man of whom any age can boast." "He
soared to such a height that his contemporaries could not
fully estimate his genius, the justness of his views, and the
importance of his labors." Lord Macaulay says : "Bacon's
mind was the most exquisitely constructed intellect that has
ever been bestowed upon any of the children of men."
Pope, that "Lord Bacon was the greatest genius that Eng-
land, or perhaps any other country, ever produced." De-
Quincy calls him "the glory of the human intellect."
Welch writes that "he belonged to the realm of imagina-
tion, of eloquence, of jurisprudence, of ethics, of meta-
physics. His writings have the gravity of prose, with the
fervor and vividness of poetry." Addison, that "he pos-
sessed at once all those extraordinary talents which were

divided among the greatest authors of antiquity

One does not know which to admire most in his writings,
the strength of his reason, force of style, or brightness of
imagination;" while Edward Burke wrote, "Who is there
that hearing the name of Bacon, does not instantly recog-
nize everything: of genius, the most profound; of litera-
ture, the most extensive; of discovery, the most penetrat-
ing; of observation of human life, the most distinguishing
and most refined." His friend Tobie Mathews wrote of
him, "A man so rare in knowledge, of so many several
kinds, indued with the facility and felicity of expressing it
all, in so elegant, significant, so abundant, and yet so choice
and ravishing words, of metaphors and allusions, as perhaps
the world has not seen since it was a world." And Macau-
lay avers "no man ever had an imagination so thoroughly

FRANCIS BACON. 43

subjugated. In truth, much of Bacon's life was spent in a
visionary world, amidst things as strange as any that are
described in the Arabian tales."

The German author and critic Schlegel, whose "History
of Literature" is almost a classic, says : "This mighty genius
ranks as the father of modern physics, inasmuch as he
brought back the spirit of investigation from the barren,
verbal subtleties of the schools, to nature and experience;
he made and completed many important discoveries him-
self, and seems to have had an imperfect foresight of many
others.

"Stimulated by his capacious and stirring intellect, ex-
perimental science extended her boundaries in every direc-
tion; intellectual culture, nay, the social organization of
modern Europe generally, assumed a new shape and com-
plection."

In Lord Hacaulay's essay these extracts occur:

"With great minuteness of observation he had an ampli-
tude of comprehension such as has never been vouchsafed
to any other human being. Though Bacon did not arm his
philosophy with weapons of logic, he adorned her profusely
with all the richest decorations of rhetoric." "In his mag-
nificent day dreams, there was nothing wild, nothing but
what sober reason sanctioned. He knew that all the
secrets, feigned of poets to have been written in the books
of the enchanters, are worthless when compared with the
mighty secrets which are really written in the book of
nature; and which with but time and patience will be read
there. He knew that all the wonders wrought by talis-
mans in fable were trifles compared to the wonders which
might reasonably be expected from the philosophy of fruit,
and that if his words sank deep into the minds of men, they

44 FRANCIS BACON.

would produce effects such as superstition never ascribed

to the incantations of the magicians It was

here that he loved to let his imagination loose. He loved
to picture to himself the world as it would be when his
philosophy should, in his own noble phrase, 'have enlarged
the bounds of Europe.' '

Bacon's central thought was that religion, philosophy
and literature should have a direct and practical bearing
upon the well-being of mankind, and make life easier, more
important, more interesting. That progress must be its
purpose and end, for the good of the world, and this will
be found to be the key-note throughout.

Our estimate of the life and character of Bacon, as well
as the political history of the reign of Queen Elizabeth,
must needs be revised from the auto-biographical and his-
torical material which the Cipher furnishes. It has been
claimed that he was cold-blooded, and without affection or
regard for the gentler sex. The contrary is the fact. Dur-
ing his stay in France occured the absorbing romance of his
life, in a passionate love for Queen Marguerite, the young
and beautiful wife of Henry of Navarre. The life of a
young Prince in the gay Court of France, accredited from
the Court of England, a descendant of Henry the VII.
though his title was unacknowledged can perhaps be bet-
ter imagined than described. The conduct of Henry of
Navarre had led to expectations of a divorce. Through-
out the Cipher Story are found references which sufficiently
show the powerful influence this absorbing passion exer-
cised over the after life of Francis. A marriage was
planned, to take place when divorce could be obtained from
Navarre, and Sir Aymas Paulet attempted to negotiate the

FRANCIS BACON. 45

Arrangement with Queen Elizabeth, but this not meeting
with her approval, the marriage scheme failed and the
divorce was not obtained. The Play of Romeo and Juliet
is based on this love story, with Marguerite and Francis
for its real characters. In the "New Atlantis," published
after his death, the Cipher says :

"Th' fame of th' gay French Court had come to me even
then, and it was nattering to th' youthfull and most naturall
love o' th' affaires taking us from my native land, inasmuch
as th' secret commission had been entrusted to me, which
required much true wisdome for safer, speedier conduct
then 'twould have if left to th' common course o' businesse.
Soe with much interessed, though sometimes apprehensive
minde, I made rayselfe ready to accompanie Sir Amyias
to that sunny land o' th' South I learn'd soe supremely to
love, that afterwards I would have left England and every
hope o' advancement to remain my whole life there. Nor
yet could this be due to th' delights of th' country, by
itselfe, for love o' sweete Marguerite, th' beautifull young
sister o' th' king (married to gallant Henri th' King o'
Xavarre) did make it Eden to my innocent heart, and even
when I learn'd her perfidie, love did keepe her like th'
angels in my thoughts half o' th' time as to th' other half
she was devilish, and I myselfe was plung'd into hell. This
lasted duri'g many yeares, and, not until four decades or
eight lustres o' life were outliv'd, did I take any other to
my sore heart. Then I married th' woman who hath put
Marguerite from my memorie rather, I should say, hath
banisht her portrait to th' walles of memorie, onely, where
it doth hang in th' pure, undimmed beauty of those early
dayes while her most lovelie presence doth possesse this
entire mansion, of heart and braine.

46 FRANCIS BACON.

Yet here I have a little digress'd, although the matter
doth appertaine unto my story at a later period. When
Sir Amyias Paulet became avised of my love, he propos'd
that he should negotiate a treaty of marriage, and appro-
priately urge on her pending case o' the divorce from the
young Huguenot; but for reasons of very grave importance
these buds of an early marriage never open'd into flower.
But the future race will profit by th' failure in the field of
love, for in those flitting daies afterward, having resolv'd
to cover every marke of defeate with th' triumphs o' my
minde, I did thoroughly banish my tende' love dreams to
th' regions o' clouds as unreall, and let my works of vari-
ous kinds absorb my minde. It is thus by my disappoint-
ments that I do secure to many, fruition."

CIPHERS.

Bacon, from 'childhood, was intended for a public career.
At that time all diplomatic, and much personal correspond-
ence was committed to cipher. Among the substantial
benefits, conferred upon mankind by Bacon, was the inven-
tion, while in France, of what is known as the Baconian, or
Bi-literal Cipher, which is adaptable to a multitude of means
and uses. It may not be generally known that this Cipher
is the basis of nearly every alphabetical code in use in teleg-
raphy, and in the signal service of the world. It is in brief,
an alphabet which requires only two unlike things for its
operation. These may be two slightly differing fonts of
type on a printed page, as illustrated in the example given
at length in his De Augmentis, published not long before
his death; or it may be a dot or slight disfigurement in a
single font, or the alternating dot and dash, or short and
long sound space of the Morse telegraphic code, or the alter-
nating long and short flash of light as in the heliographic
system; the "wig-wag" of a flag or signal light, or two col-
ored lights alternately displayed; in short any means what-
ever alternating any two unlike or unequal signs, sounds,
motions or things. Under the rules of arithmetical pro-
gression, almost innumerable alphabets can be constructed,
by these means undecipherable without its particular key.
It has no limitations upon its usefulness and has never been
surpassed in security, ingenuity or simplicity. Bacon him-
self called this the Omnia-per-omnia, the all in all cipher,
and the name is completely descriptive.

48 CIPHERS.

On a following page, from "Advancement of Learning,"
(1605), is Bacon's first reference to the Bi-literal Cipher.
The next reference with the plan, and the key to its use,
appears eighteen years later, in the Latin De Augmentis
Scientiarum, in 1623.

The system has been recognized, and used, since the day
that De Augmentis was published, and has had its place
in every translation and publication of that work since,
but the ages have waited to learn that it was embedded in
the original books themselves from the date of his earliest
writings (1579 as now known) and infolded his secret per-
sonal history.

The two editions of De Augmentis form an illustration
of the manner in which the different editions of the same
work form each a separate study and tell a different Cipher
Story. The first, or "London" edition, was issued, accord-
ing to Spedding, in October, 1623. The next, or "Paris"
edition, was issued in 1624. They differ in the Italic
printing, and some errors in the second do not occur in the
first. The 1624 edition has been deciphered; and the hid-
den story appears in this volume (page 310). The 1623
edition has not, as yet, been deciphered. It seems to be a
rare edition. There are two copies in the British Museum,
one in the Bodleian library at Oxford, two in Cambridge,
and one .in the choice collection of old books in the library
of Sir Edwin Durning-Lawrence.

In the course of the work, Marlowe's Edward Second
had been deciphered before De Augmentis was taken up.
At the end of Edward Second occurs this veiled statement,
referring to De Augmentis (page 152 Bi-literal Cypher}
". . . . the story it contains (our twelft king's nativity
since our sovereign, whose tragedy we relate in this way)

CIPHERS. 49

shall now know the day . . " Had Francis succeeded to
the throne, he would have been the twelfth king (omitting
the queens) after Edward Second, hence the inference that
De Augmentis would contain much of his personal history.
The disappointment was great when instead of this, the
hidden matter was found to be the Argument of the Odys-
sey, something not anticipated, or wanted, and would never
have been the result of choice or imagination of the deci-
pherer. At the close of the deciphered work in Burton's
Anatomy, in which the Argument of the Iliad was most
unexpectedly found another great disappointment is
this veiled statement: (page 309) "... while a Latin
work De Augmentis will give aid upon the other
(meaning the Odyssey). As in this work (meaning the
Iliad) favorite parts are enlarged (in blank verse) yet as it
lendeth ayde . . ." i. e., sets a pattern for the
writing out of the Odyssey in the Word Cipher. This ex-
plained the 1624 edition, and the inference is that the
1623 edition will disclose the personal history referred to
on page 152.

In the 1624 edition there are some errors in the illus-
tration of the cipher methods and in the Cicero Epistle
which do not occur in the 1623 edition. The Latin words
midway on page 282, "qui pauci sunt" in the 1623 edition,
are "qui parati sunt" in the 1624, page 309, an error
referred to on page 10 of the Introduction of the Bi-literal
Cypher as wrong termination, there being too many letters
for the group, and one letter must be omitted. Other
variations show errors in making up the forms on pages
307 and 308 in the 1624 edition, whether purposely for

50 CIPHERS.

confusion or otherwise, it is impossible to tell. The line
on page 307,

"Exemplum Alphabeti Biformis "

should be placed above the Bi-formed Alphabet on page
308, while

"Exemplum Accomodationis"

should be placed above the example of the adaptation jusi
preceding. The repetition of twelve letters of the bi-f orrned
alphabet could hardly be called a printer's error, as they
are of another form, unlike those on the preceding page,
and may be taken as an example of the statement that "any
two forms will do." In these illustrations the letters seem
to be drawn with a pen and are a mixture of script and pe-
culiar forms, and unlike any in the regular fonts of type
used in the printed matter. No part of the Cipher Story ia
embodied in the script or pen letters on these pages.
Whether or not the changing of the lines was done pur-
posely, the grouping of the Italic letters from the regular
fonts is consecutive as the printed lines stand,, the wrong
make-up causing no break in the connected narration.
There are many obscure statements throughout the Bi-
literal Cypher, such as are noted in Edward Second and
in Burton. To the decipherer they have a meaning, indi-
cating what to look for and where to find that which is
necessary for correct and completed work, as well as to
guard against errors and incorrect translation.

ELIZABETH WELLS GALLUP.

Of the Advancement of Learning.

(London, 1605.)

CYPHARS

For CYPHARS; they are commonly in Letters
or Alphabets, but may bee in Wordes. The kindes
of CYPHARS, (befides the SIMPLE CYPHARS
with Changes, and intermixtures of NVLLES, and
NONSIGNIFICANT s) are many, according to
the Nature or Rule of the infoulding : WHEELE-
CYPHARS, KA Y-C YPHARS, DOVBLES,
&c. But the vertues of them, whereby they are
to be preferred, are three ; that they be not labor-
ious to write and reade; that they bee impofsible
to difcypher ; and in fome cafes, that they bee
without fufpition. The higheft Degree whereof,
is to write OMNIA PER OMNIA; which is
vndoubtedly pofsible, with a proportion Quintuple
at moft, of the writing infoulding, to the writing
infoulded, and no other reftrainte whatfoeuer.
This Arte of Cypberinge, hath for Relatiue, an Art
of Difcypberinge ; by fuppofition vnprofitable ; but,
as things are, of great vfe. For fuppofe that
Cypbars were well mannaged, there bee Multitudes
of them which exclude the Difcypberer. But in
regarde of the rawnefle and vnskilfulneffe of the
handes, through which they paffe, the greateft
Matters, are many times carryed in the weakeft
Cypbars.

DE AUGMENTIS SCIENTIARUM

(Translation, Gilbert Wats, 1640.)

Wherefore let us come to C Y p H A R s. Their kinds
are many, as Cyphars flmple; Cyphars intermixt with
U^ulloes, or non - fignificant Characters ; Cyphars of
double Letters under one Character; Wheele-Cyphars ; Kay-
Cyphars; Cyphars of Words; Others. But the virtues
of them whereby they are to be preferr'd are Three;
That they be ready, and not laborious to write; That they be
lure, and lie not open to Deciphering; And lajlly, if it be
pofsible, that they be managed without fufpition.

But that jealoufies may be taken away, we will
annexe an other invention, which, in truth, we
devifed in our youth, when we were at Paris : and
is a thing that yet feemeth to us not worthy to be
loft. It containeth the bighejl degree of Cypher, which
is to fignifie omnia per omnia, yet f o as the writing
infolding, may beare a quintuple proportion to the
writing infolded; no other condition or reftriction
whatfoever is required. It fhall be performed thus:
Firft let all the Letters of the Alphabet, by tranfpo-
fition, be refolved into two Letters onely ; for the
tranfpofition of two Letters by five placings will be
fufficient for 32. Differences, much more for 24.
which is the number of the Alphabet. The example
of fuch an Alphabet is on this wife.

An Example of a ISi-literarie Alphabet.

e/7 S C T) E F

o/laaaa aaaab aaaba. aaabb. aabaa. aabab.

G H I K -L Of

aabba aabbb abaaa. abaab. ababa. ababb.

^ O 7> d 7? 5

abbaa. abbab. abbba. abbbb. baaaa. baaab.

T V W X Y Z

baaba. baabb. babaa. babab. babba. babbb.

Neither is it a fmall matter thefe Cypher-Characters
have, and may performe : For by this Art a way is
opened, whereby a man may exprefle and fignifie
the intentions of his minde, at any diftance of
place, by objects which may be prefented to the
eye, and accommodated to the eare : provided thofe
objects be capable of a twofold difference onely ;
as by Bells, by Trumpets, by Lights and Torches,
by the report of -Muskets, and any inftruments of
like nature. But to purfue our enterprife, when
you addreffe your felfe to write, refolve your in-
ward-infolded Letter into this c Bi-literarie Alphabet.
Say the interiour Letter be

Page.
Example of Solution.

F V G E

aabab. baabb. aabba. aabaa.

Together with this, you muft have ready at
hand a c Bi-formed Alphabet, which may reprefent all
the Letters of the Common Alphabet, as well Capitall
Letters as the Smaller Characters in a double
forme, as may fit every mans occafion.

An Example of a "Si-formed Alphabet.

( a b a b a b a b a b a b a b a b a b a b a b a b

l^Aaa ^BBbl) CCcc^DDdd EEee FFff

{ a b a b abababab abababab a b a b

\GGgg HHbh JIH KKkk LLll

a b a b a b a b a b a b a b a b abababab

n OOoo TPpp QQqq T{Rrr SSss

( a bab a b a b a b a babababababab ab

\ TTttVVvvuulVWwwXXxx YTyy ZZ^z

Now to the interiour letter, which is Biliterate,
you fhall fit a biformed exteriour letter, which fhall
anfwer the other, letter for letter, and afterwards
fet it downe. Let the exteriour example be,

(Manere te volo, donee venero.
An Example of Accommodation.

F V G E

a a b a b. baa b b. a a b b a. a a baa.

{Manere te volo donee venero

We have annext likewife a more ample example
of the cypher of writing omnia per omnia: An interiour
letter, which to expreffe, we have made choice of
a Spartan letter fent once in a Scytale or round
cypher'd ftaffe.

Spartan Dispatch.

is lost. {Mindarus is killed. Tbe soldiers
want food. We can neither get hence nor stay longer
here.

An exteriour letter, taken out of the firft Epiftle
of Cicero, wherein a Spartan Letter is involved.

Cicero's first Epistle.
Jn all duty or rather piety towards

a a aaa \abab a\ a b a b a\a b a a a

b a aa.b\abab

you, I satisfy everybody except myself.

a a b b a b 6 a a a b \ b a a b a\a b a b b\ab a a a a b b aa\ a
O S I r | M \ I N I

Myself y never satisfy. For so great are

a a b b\a a a a a\b a a a a\b a a b b \ b a a a b \ a b a a a\ b a a

D \ A \ X. \ U \ S \ I I S

the services which you bave rendered me,

a. b\a b a a b\ab a a a\a b a b a a b a b a\a a b a a\a a a b b\ b
\K\I\L L \ E \ D \

that , seeing you did not rest in your en-

a a b a \ a a b b b\a aba a\b a a a b\a b b a b\a b a b a\ a a
T I H \ E \S\O\L\

deavours on my bebalf till the thing was

abbabaaa\aa b a a\b a a a a \ b aa a b\b a b a a a a a a a\
D I \ R \R\S\W A \

done, J feel as if life had lost all its sweet-

abba a
N

b a ab a

a b a b\a b b a b \ abb a b\a a abb \ b a baa

ness, because J cannot do as much in this

a a b a a\a a a b a

a a a a

a I a b b a a
if

a b b a a\a a b a a\a b

cause of yours. The occasions are these:

aaa\baaba\aabb b\ a a b a a b a a a a\a abb a a a b a

I \ T \ H \ E X \ G E

t/lmmonius, the king' s ambassador, open-

a \ b a a b a\a a b b b a a b a a \ a b b a a\a a a b a \ a a b a
\ T I H E \ N \ C \ E

ly besieges us with money. The business

a\a b b a a\a b b a b\b a aa a\ b a a a b \ baa b a aa a a a b
\N\O\R\S\ T A

is carried on through the same creditors

a b b a\a b a b a a b b a b a b b a aaa b b a\ a a b a a\b a a a a
Y I L O N O \ E \ R

who were employed in it when you were

a a b b b a a b a a\b a a a a a a b a a
H E \ R

here Ere.

( N o T K ) This Translation from Spedding, Ellis & Heath Ed.

aaa aaa a a a a

(REPRODUCTION.)

Epistle.

Jn all duty or rather piety towards you, I satisfy
everybody except myself. {Myself J never satisfy.
For so great are the services which you have rendered
me, that, seeing you did not rest in your endeavours
on my behalf till the thing was done, J feel as if life
had lost all its sweetness, because J cannot do as
much in this cause of yours. The occasions are these:
t/lmmonius, the kings ambassador, openly besieges us
with money. The business is carried on through the
same creditors who were employed in it when you

were here &c.

Cipher infolded.

Ml is lost. tMindams is killed.. The soldiers
want food. We can neither get hence nor stay longer
here.

The knowledge of Cyphering, hath drawne on with it
a knowledge relative unto it, which is the knowledge
of Difcyphering, or of Difcreting Cyphers, though a man
were utterly ignorant of the Alphabet of the Cypher,
and the Capitulations of fecrecy paft between the
Parties. Certainly it is an Art which requires great
paines and a good witt and is [as the other was]
confecrate to the Counfels of Princes: yet notwith-
ftanding by diligent previfion it may be made un-
profitable, though, as things are, it be of great ufe.
For if good and faithfull Cyphers were invented &
practifed, many of them would delude and foreftall
all the Cunning of the Decipherer, which yet are very
apt and eafie to be read or written: but the rawneffe
and unskilfulneffe of Secretaries, and Clarks in the
Courts of Princes, is fuch, that many times the
greateft matters are committed to futile and weake
Cyphers.

FRANCISCI

BARONI S

DE VERVLAMIO,

VICE-CO MITIS

SANCTI ALBANJ.

DE DIGNIT4TE ET

SClENTlARfM.

L I B R I IX.
D R EC E M SIT

lux ta Exemplar Londini ImprelTum

P A R I S I I S,

TRi METTAYER >

M. DC. XXIV.

306

tumtnodd Literas fojuantur ,/ per Tranfpofitionem
.carum. Nam Tranfpofitio duarum Literarum 3 per
Locprquinquc, Differentiis.triginca duabus, multd
nragis viginti quatuor ( qui eft Numerus Alfi*-
fcriapud nos ) luffitiet. Huius Alfidtti Excmpluiu
talc eft.

Neque Ieueqtii3darn obiter hoc jnodo perfe&um
cfl^Etenim ex hoc ipfopatet Modus , quo ad oiftnem
Loci Diftantiam,per Obic<5ta>quaE vel Vifu^vel Audi-
tui fubijci poflintjSenfa Animi proferre, &c fignificarc
liceat : fi modo Obicda illa^uplicis tantum DifFeren-
ti^capaciafunt, velutiperCampanas , per Buccinas >
per Fiammeosjpei 1 SonitusTormentorum,& alia que^
cunque. VerumvtlncoBptumperfequamur^cum ad
Scribendum accingoris > Epiftolam interiorem in^-
' (blues. Sit epiftolaitueriori

507
Exemplunl Solutipw*

G- 2T-

DP<L<

<Lfa

Prcftd fimulfit aliud Jphabetum Biforme , nimirum,
quod fingulas Alphabet! Communh Literas , tarn Capi-
tate,quaTn mirtores^duplici Forma , prout cuiqj com-
modam,fit cxhibeat.

Exemplum Alpn<d?ctil$ifQrmi$*

Q &

I .& AO, (><L

JH(Liier$ ie, vrlo cumtc venerff

Turn demum Epiftolx Interiori, iam fat# Bitiffraf$,
Epiftolam Exteriorcm Biformem, literatim accommo-
dabis^pofteadefcribes. Sit Epiftola Exteriori

Mdntic te volo donee vexero*
Exemplum Accommod^tionis.

Of ^P* Q- CR *\

ft tf / iff IM * f f

&pp4,<L t &vba,b . cbbp&.apppp* i

Appofuimus etiam Exemp'lum aliud largius ei
dem Ciphrx , Scribendi QmnU per Omnia.
Epiftola Interior , ad quam dolegifflus Epiftolam

Sfartanam > miflam olirnin Scytalc,
Pcrdite < R^fs. <&fCmdanis cecidit

yunt> jqtit ncno$ extricaTe, neque
hie dm fins

p. a. p. a* P*.<L<p.

a p G.P.

P<CL.D

. 0.aJ<& p, a<.p>&<p' a*t>< &<P.CI.

& P, a* P.& P. a. P<a.P. A. ? a.p.

p *&>p*<L<p.4p.(li &.&<&*&, P*4*p*Cl*p

P. U.

p* a* P* &.P* a,*P-cip'a't>>ci, t

ior^ fumpta ex EpiftolaPr/W Ci
in qua Efijlokt Sptrttna inuolui tur.

303

o- mni offido, aepotiufme

^ - **

caiterii

* ^

ttido iuffmm tra& we

* A / >A

<tm &, niriperfcctare, asmem- am^ma-

. ./5.A A, ^Vf .

&; ego Auianon- idem- wind cwsAtfpWt
vifamsmfS,essz acerwmjmtm . MCdU-
JfraaecMiLt' Jimmoniws J\Mis

I .

Vefeffjasm creadbref perautv,

r
r 4is causa, n

iwti rem tstmwurit. Senates

aJtimnitun non ttfottnt

p r>

inmaui com^oM Kc*

Qn iij

DIC1TVR.

NOVVM ORGAN VM,

S I V E '

INDICIA VERA

T)E

DEEST TAT(S <P<RIMA

INSTAVRATIONIS,

PARTITIONES SCIENTIARVM.
ia tamen ex Secundo Libra de Progrcf-
libus faciendis in Dodlrina
uina & Humana , nonnuU
ex parte peti
fojjiint.

INSTVARATIONIS,

QJ& A<KTeM ITSAM

Interpretandi &Qituram,&* verioru adoperatio*
nu Intelle&us exhibet : neque cam ipfarn
tamen in Corpore tra&atm i
fed tantum digeflam per
fumntas>in Apho-
rifmos.

PRAE.FA-

FRANCISCI

BARONIS

VICE-COMIT1S

S AN CT I A LEAN I,

Hiftoria Vita &

S I V E>

TITVLVS SECVNDVS
in Hiftoria Natural! & Experimental!

ad concfendam Philofophiam :

Quseft

PARS TERTIA.

L O N D I M I,

In Officinal o, H A v i L A N.D, impenfis
MATTHAEI LOWNES. 1625.

The firft pare

Of the true & hono-

rable hifbry,of the Life of

Sir lohn Old'Caftle, the good
Lord Cobham.

As it bath bene lately aftedbytbe
honorable the Earle of^otingham
Lord High zAdmir all of England,
his Servants.

Written by William Shakdpeare.

Lonjonprintettfor T. *P<
1600.

Prodigall.

As ic was plaide by the Kings Male-
flies (eruancs.

By WittimShakefpeare,

LONDON

aretobc fold neeref

at the figncof the pydeBu.

YORKSHIRE

TRAGEDIE.

o B>> as Lament Me

j V

and Irue.

Written by W. SHAKESPEARE

Printed for T. T. 1619*

FRANCIS BACON'S

BI-LITERAL CIPHER

THE DECIPHERED SECRET STORY

From Original Editions in British Museum
7590.

PUBLISHEKS' NOTE.

THIRD EDITION.

The publication of the second edition of the Bi-Uteral
Cypher of Francis Bacon, which embraced the period of his
Cipher writing between 1590 and the end of his career,
emphasized the importance of finding the earlier writings
preceding 1590. The old books necessary to the re-
search could not be procured in America, and during the
summer of 1900 Mrs. Gallup and her assistant, Miss Kate
E. Wells, visited England to carry on the work in that
treasure house of early literature, the British Museum.
The investigations yielded rich returns, for in Shepheard's
Calender of 1579 was found the commencement of what
proved to be an important part of Bacon's life work.

Following Shepheard's Calender, the works between
1579 and 1590, so fax deciphered, are:

Araygnement of Paris, 1584; Mirrour of Modestie,
1584.

Planetomachia, 1585.

Treatise of Melancholy, 1586. Two editions of this
were issued the same year, with differing Italics. The first
ends with an incomplete cipher word which is completed in
the second for the continued narration, thus making evident
which was first published, unless they were published at
the same time.

Euphues, 1587; Morando, 1587. These two also join
together, with an incomplete word at the end of the first
finding its completion in the commencement of the Cipher
in the second.

Perimedes the Blacke-smith, 1588; Pandosto, 1588.
These two also join together.

Spanish Masquerade, 1589. Two editions of this work
bear date the same year, but have different Italicising. In
one edition the Cipher Story is complete, closing with the
signature: "Fr., Prince." In the other the story is not
complete, the book ending with an incomplete cipher word,
the remainder of which will be found in some work of a
near date which has not yet been indicated.

Several months were spent in following, through these
old books, the thread of the concealed story until it joined
the work which had already been published. Overstrained
eye-sight, from the close study of the different forms of
Italic letters, and consequent exhaustion on the part of
Mrs. Gallup, compelled a cessation of the work before all
that would have been desirable to know concerning that
early period was deciphered ; and while these are not all the
works in which Cipher will be found, between the years
1579 and 1590, they are sufficient unmistakably to connect
the earlier writings with those of later date which had
already been deciphered as published in the Bi-literal
Cypher so that we now "know the Cipher writings were
being continuously infolded in Bacon's works, for a period
of about forty-six years, from the first to the last of his lit-
erary productions, including some matter he had prepared,
which was published by Eawley subsequent to 1626.

These few pages of deciphered matter, now added to that
published in the Second Edition, have a unique distinction
in the costliness of their production, but they are of ines-
timable value, historically, as well as from a literary point
of view, in demonstrating with certainty the scope and
completeness of the Cipher plan which has so long hidden
the secrets of a most eventful period.

sues Id.
2678.

FEANCIS BACON'S BI-LITEEAL CYPHEE.

SHEPHEAED'S CALENDER 1579.

DEDICATION BY "E. K." 1579.
ATTRIBUTED TO ED. SPENSER, 1611.

E. K. wil bee found to be nothing lesse then th' letters
signifying th' future sov'raigne, or England's King.
Th' present Queene, purely selfish in all that doth in a
sorte make for proper, tho' tardie recognition of that true
prerogative of roiale bloud, doth most boldly and co'sta'tly
oppose with h'r argume'ts th' puny effort in our cause
which hath most disprov'd abilitie to uphold our true and
rightful (but at this present time, very little scene or onely
partlie ghest) clayme to roiall pow'r. In event o' death of
her Ma. who bore in honourable wedlocke Eobert, now
known as sonne to Walter Devereux, as wel as him who now
speaketh to th' yet unknowne aidant discypherer that wil
open the dores of the sepulcher to break in sunder the bonds
and cerementes of a marvaillous historie, we the eldest
borne, should, by the Divine right of a lawe of God made
binding on man, inherit scepter and thron'.

Lest most vilde historie have no penne so bolde as to
write out some daungerous matter' that have of late beene
layd bare to us, we have made" search for anie such secret
mode of transmission as might conceale this whollie, yet in
time, or it may chance ere long, chose the readers. Fayling
in this, as all our existing meanes have alwaie [a] like sorte
of keie held by each interpreter, wee devis'd two Cyphars
now us'd for th' first time, for this saide secret historie, as
cleere, safe, and undecipherable, whilst containing th*

80 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

keyes in each which open the most important, as anie
device that witholdeth th' same. Till a discypherer finde
a prepar'd, or readily discovered, alphabet, it semeth to us
a thing almost impossible, save by Divine gift and heavenly
instinct, that he should bee able to read what is thus
reveal'd.

It may, percha'ce, remaine in hiding imtill a future
people furnish wittes keener then these of our owne times
to open this heavilie barred entrance-way and enter the
house of treasure. Yet are we in hourly terror least th'
Queene, our enemie at present, altho' likewise our mother,
be cognisant of our invention. It is for good cause, there-
fore, that our worst feares cling to us so consta'tly that our
intention is alter'd, and the cheefe Cyphar be not heerein
set forth in such manner as was meant.

FE. B.

THE AEAYGNEMENT OF PARIS. 1584.

GEORGE PEELE.

By usi'g our Word Cyphar heere, our labours are
great-lie increast. Wittes must be keen in a like search
waiting also, at other seasons, as a warie mind must oft to
get th' game, yet making noe noyse in his rejoyci'g over th'
great discoverie. Wee write in this constant dread least
our secret history may be found and sette out ere we be
safe ev'n fro' th' butcher's deadlie axe, and make manie a
shift sodainely for saftie. Be not then caste downe if there
be much that is promist you for which you shal long hunt
vainlie, since we have so oft bene seyzed with violent feare
of that which might arise thence. The', manifold times,
our tho'ght sodainely changeth answer therto. But it wil
in due time bee related wholly. Safety should arise, no

IN THE ARAYGNEMENT OF PARIS. 81

lesse then knowledge, from time's passage. Our mother
?an hardly lie immortall.

It is also true that increast writings greatlie lessen our
chaunces of losse ; for when portions are widelie scattered,
as herein, most shal see but Latine and Greeke in diverbs
of rare worth, nor see our free use of great Virgill's vers ? ,
translated in the schools, and the more wondrous Homer,'
his poemes. Their eies rest on our Cyphar, yet to divulge
th' secret is not in th' power of any that live at present ; for
it is yet in meere infancy and none recognise th' forme and
features that it is at length, wee doubt not, to donne, as it
commeth to height of developed body.

In sorrowe we set wordes herein : we know not their
fate nor ours in a future near or f arr, for we are in truth
th' luckles Prince of Wales, whome, alas, wit no way o' safe
escape hath taughte, if it bee not in hiding wel our mar-
vaillous storie, in order to communicate it to some distant
friends, whose loialtie to princes of a rank such as ours
may serve, at God's morn of aidance, as e'eourageme't. By
uniting many pow y 'res such lofty endevou' for perfect-
ing th' knowledge that is in the world, joined also with a
strife for th' elevation, in all kingdoms under heaven, of
this whole people th' Divine wil or planne doth perchance
have full swaie: for when mankinde shall bee given wise-
dome in so great fullnes, idle courtiers may find no true
use of subtile arts. We ourself hate, with princely hatred,
artes now exercised to keepe th' vanitie of our regall parent
glowing like fire, for God hath laid on that head a richer
crowne then this diademe upo' her brow, yet wil she not
displaie it before all eies. It is th' rich crowne of mothe'-
hoode. Our true title is

PR. OF WALES.

82 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

THE MIEEOUK OF MODESTIE. 1584.

ROBERT GREENE.

For our latest booke, it will, at first, seeme probable
to our disciph'rer, one part doth lacke here a part that
had created, as it were, some secret world into which the
unseing can by noe meanes e'ter. Our discoverer, whose
sight lookt through all th' disguises, hath bin fro' th' first
familiar with a most secret, as it is most dangerous, con-
fession that is so framed it hinteth th' strange things it
would relate, hath also seene in these letters two kinds
necessarie to the Cypher, and will teach this discipherer
our designe, wee having invented two excellent waies of
co'cealing in our workes a secret so dangerous it would at
once cost life, fame, fortu'e all that wee hold deare.

We are firstborne to th' soe-called virgin that gov-
erneth our realme, Queene Elizabeth. In event of the
abdication or death of the Queene, wee this sonne,
Francis, Prince of Wales, inherit this throne and this
crowne, and our land shall rejoice, for it shall have a wise
soveraigne. God e'dued us with wisedome, th' gift granted
in answer to Salomon's prayers. It is not in us aught
unmeet or headie-rash to say this, for our Creatour onlie is
prais'd. None will charge here manifestation of worldly
vanitie, for it is but th' pride naturall to mindes such as
we injoye, indeed, in common with all youthfull roial
pri'ces. If it should bee wanting, then might all men saye
wee lack'd th' very essence of a roiall or a ruling spirit, or
judge that we were unfit to raigne over mightie England. It
is onely one of our happie dreemes of a day to come, that
doth draw us on to build upon this grou'd, inasmuch as it
shall be long, perhaps, if soe bright a daye dawne, ere we
shal bask in his sunny rayes. Even now, th' mother who

IN THE MIRROUR OF MODESTIE. 83

might proclayme our succession doth scarcely keep us in
her imployment. At no time doth a love for her two sonnes
so move her, as to lead her, a queene by inherited right, to
do as her roiall pare't had providently done, or to declare
the succession should be to her right heyres by a just union
with that wel markt sutour, Robert D.

Fine mindes as ours cannot suffer this fortune without
making anie attempte to recover by skillfull meanes th'
fame, if not th' honour, which unkind fates have taken away
from us. Wee fain would write workes most lofty in their
style, which, being suited as well to -representation upon th'
stage as to bee read in libraries, may soe go foorth and so
re'ch manie in th' land not as wise, mayhap, in knowledge,
yet as great as others in loialtie and in fierie spirit. If that
deficiency be in a measure filled in our realme, this labour
in coming yeeres wil surely bee of benefit, although it bee
unknowne for a long season what is the cause and ultimate
designe, and, in the end, our new inventio' wil excell this
as a mode of transmitting all matters of a secret or delicat'
nature. It requyreth more time in preparation, since pains
must necessarilie be used least the keyes bee lost in giving
the parts locatio' that altereth th' sense. As naught else
was intended when our original designe was fourm'd, a
change of that which shal bee imparted in this way, the
hidden epistle thus safely preserv'd from th' wrackes of
time's floode, can bee understood as importa't to our people
of Brittain, even as to us, for 'tis their own roiall Prince,
who, sufferi'g such wrongs,, can patie'tlie heare th' silent
houres noe longer, though life should ever hang in the bal-
ance for th' rashnesse.

One thing doth somewhat encourage our young faith
in enjoyment heereafter of our kingdo'e ; that is, our advice
from a friend whose wise counsaile hath long bin aidante
and comforting. It is to this effect : That in age is a sense
of dutie most felt, as is made plaine in freque't marked

84 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

examples of tardie restorations late in life many
examples of a deathbed arousing a man, his dormant con-
science, to such sense of justice, that all wrong, i' his power
to see rectified, in wisedo'e have beene righted. Wee there-
fore have beene in hope of our winni'g this inherita'ce in
due time. We know how wearie, ever, is hope deferr'd.
In th' Holy Booke of th' Scripture it saith : "Hope deferr'd
maketh the heart sicke."

Bee not, however, of opinion our hope is immediately
to become England's King. Wee request but our naturall
right : that we be declar'd the true heyre as the first borne
son to our Queene, borne to her in honourable marriage
with Robert D. ; the Prince o' Wales whyles our parent be
livi'g, but the propper souveraigne with name and stile
quite disstinct fro' others English kings having soe farre
had no Francis on th' scrowl that co'tayneth their worthy
Christian names in proper course o' time, as other that
were princes have had fortune before this in our realm.

Th' earliest shews of favour of this roial mother, as
patronesse rather than parent, were seene when she hon-
or'd our roofe so farre as to become th' guest of goode Sir
Nicholas Bacon that kinde man wee suppos'd our father
then, as well wee might, for his unchangeable gentle kind-
nesse, his consta't carefullnesse for our honour, our safetie,
and true advancement. These become marked as th' studie
that wee pursew'd did make our tong sharp to replie when
shee asked us a perplexing question, never, or at least
seldome, lacking Greeke epigram to fit those shee quoted,
and wee w r ere ofte bro't into her gracious presence. It
liveth, as do dreemes of yesternight, when now wee close
our eies the statelie moveme'ts, grace of speech, quick
smile and sodaine anger, that oft, as April cloudes come
acros the sunne yet as sodainly are withdrawn, fill'd us
with succeeding dismay, or brim'd our cup immediately
with joy.

IN THE MIRROUR OF MODESTIE. 85

It doth as ofte recur that th' Queene, our roiall mother,
sometimes said in Sir Nicholas' eare on going to her coach :
"Have him wel instructed in knowledge that future station
shal make necessary." Naturally quick of hearing, it
reaching our eares was caught o' th' wing, and long turned
and pondered upon, but we found no meaning, for all our
witte, no whisp'red woorde having passed th' lippes of noble
Sir Nicholas on the matter. It was therefore long ere we
knew our birth roial, and th' fond love of both foster
parentes was restrainte and staye to our young spirit when
the wild and fierie tempest sodainelie brast upo' us. This
dread force would otherwise have ruined, wasted and borne
us adrift like a despoil' d harvest.

In course of time, in a horrible passio' of witles wrath,
th' revelation was thus flasht, like as lightning, upon us by
our proude roial parent herself e. We were in prese'ce as
had manie and oftentimes occurr'd, Que. E. havi'g a liking
of our manners with a nomber o' th' ladies and severall of
the gentlemen of her court, when a seely young maiden
babied a tale Cecill, knowing her weakeness, had whispered
in her eare. A daungerous tidbit it was, but it well did
satisfy th' malicious soule of a tale-bearer such as R. Cecill,
that concern'd not her associate ladies at all, but th' honour,
the honesty of Queene Elizabeth. Noe sooner breath'd
aloude then it was hearde by the Queene, noe more, in
truth, then halfe hearde then 'twas avenged by th' enraged
Queene. Never had we seene fury soe terrible, and it was
some time that wee remayned in silent, horror-strook dis-
maye, at the fiery overwhelming tempest. At last when
stript of al her fraile attire, the poor maid in frightened
remors' lay quivering at Queene Elizabethes feet, almost
depriv'd o' breath, stil feeblie begging that her life be
spar'd nor ceasi'g for a mome't till sense was lost no
longer might we looke upon this in silence ; and bursting
like fulmin'd lightning through the waiting crowde of the

86 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

astonished courtiers and ladies, surrou'ding in a widening
circle this angry Fury and her prey, wee bent a knee cravi'g
that wee might lifte up the tender bodie and bear it thence.
A dread sile'ce that foretels a storm fell on the Queene for
a space, as th' cruell light waxed brighter and th' cheeke
burnt as, th' flame. As the fire grew to blasti'g heat, it fell
upon us like the bolt of Jove. Losing controll immediatelie '
of both judgement and discretion, th' secrets of her heart
came hurtling forth, stunning and blasting the sense, till
we wanted but a jot of swooning likewise. Not onely did
wee believe ourselfe to be base, but also wee beleeved the
angry reproaches of such kinde as never can bee cleared
awaie, for she declar'd us to be the fruit of a union of the
sorte that is oft lustf ull and lascivious the secret ; and in
suppressing th' name of our father, she did in very truth
give us reaso' to f eare the blot of which we speake.

When, however, Ladie Anne Bacon, hearing th' tale
which wee tolde, made free and full relation how this secret
marriage with th' Earle, our fonde sire, whom we knew
little and lov'd not more then was due, was consumated,
it greatlie excited our imagination, so that we wrote it
dow r ne in a varietie of formes, and intende the use, both as
one part of her history relating closelie to our owne, and as
suited to representative historic that may bee acted on our
stage.

The preparatio' that must naturallie be made, can bee
wel understood to be much greater, inasmuch as it must be
secret as the grave ; but it can yet bee accomplish'd, if time
be granted to carrie out our Cyphars as devis'd. Seeke, in
th' kind of letters now us'd, for one more secret storie : after
disciph'ring the same, then look onely to the Italicke
pri'ting.

PLANETOMACHIA. 1585.

ROBERT GREENE.

With great and patie't perseverance, unending, resolute
labour, such as you shall also shew at eventide and at morne
if you winne lawrells, or finde a cyphar none will have
the honour or th' favour to employ, asuredlie, for a short
periode, this work is dutifully persued for our advance-
me't. As all may know, in time, the reason why 'tis yet
hidden history of our present time and a time not very far
fro' th' present, doubt not, our title to England's throne
must soone bee known.

Althoug' a life, no other then our mother's, reinovi'g
our naturall claym yet another degre, must keepe us still
subject to the uncertaine duratio' as well as the fortune of
one other being beside our owne self e, we have faith in our
sire, who, whilst now hee loveth his peace, and quiet enjoie-
ment of th' roiall kindnese soe much no love of his offspring
is manifest, hath in his naturall spirit that which yet might
leade to a matching of a roiall spouse 'gainst the princes,
that a ballance may be maintayned. Hee is, it wil no
doubt bee remembered, the Lord Robert Dudley, Earle of
Leister, whom our historic so oft nameth. Hee who beareth
likewise the titles of Baron of Denbigh, Master of th'
Queene's Majestie's Horse (s), of th' Order of th' Garter,
her Highnesse' Privie Councilour, et cetera, in affec-
tio' nor in honours no way*doth see a lacke on the part of a
woman, who, in ascending the English throne, did, like a
common mayden of her realme, hide those secret counsells
in her owne f aire bosome. Aye, few ghest that her suitour
was her wedded lord.

In truth, had not our farre seeing sire exercised more
then the degree that was his wont, or his privilege, of au-

88 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

thoritie, Elizabeth had rested contente with th' marriage
ceremony perf orm'd in the Tower, and would not have
asked for regall, or even noble pompe with attendants and
witnesses; nor would she have wish'd for more state, be-
cause being quite bent upon secrecy, she with no want of
justice contended, "The fewer eyes to witnesse, the fewer
tongues to testify to that which had beene done."

As hath beene said, Earle of Leicester then foresaw
the daye when he might require the power this might grant
him, and no doubt this proved true, altho' we, th' first-
borne sonne of the secret union, have profited by no meanes
therfrom, since we unfortunately incurr'd his great and
most rancourous ill will, many yeares backe. As you no
doubt are cognisant of our summarie banishment to beau-
tifull France, which did intend our correction but oped to
us the gates of Paradise, you know that our sire, more ev'n
then our roiall mother, was bent upon our dispatch thither,
and urg'd vehemently that subseque't, artfullie contriv'd
business concerning affaires of state intrusted to us in
much th' same manner, we thought, as waighty affaires
were laid upon Sir Amyas, with whom they sent us to th'
French Court.

By some strange Providence, this served well the pur-
poses of our owne heart ; for, making cyphares our choyse,
we straightway proceeded to spend our greatest labours
therein, to find a methode of secret communication of our
historie to others outside the realme. That, however, drew
noe suspition upon this device, inasmuch as it did appeare
quite naturall to one who was in companie and under the
instruction of our ambassadour to the Court o' France ; and
it seemed, on th' part of our parents, to afford peculiar
relief, as shewing that our spirit and minde had calmed, as
the ocean after a tempest doth sinke into a sweete rest, nor
gives a signe of th' shippewracke belowe the gently rolli'g
surface.

IN PLANETOMACHIA. 89

For such simple causes were we undisturb'd in a
search after a meanes of transmitting our secret history.
Fayli'g this as no doubt our discypherer doth know, ere
nowe we devised this double alphabet Cyphar which with
patience may be discovered, with another having within
the body the keies to separate it into parts, that it may be
joined by our lawe and come forth in that forme which first
it bore under our hand. Thus shal we see our work arise,
as, in the Judgement Day, the soules that death set free shall
rise again in their celestiall bodies, such as they were first
created, or as they existed in the thought of God ; and as the
glory of the terrestriall is different from th' glorie of the
celestiall, so the beauties of the one shall not be as th' other.
It hath beene our practise, from th' first Cyphar epistle to
th' present letter, to scatter th' history widely, having great
feare alwaies that our roiall mother may, by some ill-
chance, come upo' the matter, and our life bee the forfeit
ere half this labour bee ended. Should she laje hand upon
the epistle, no eie save her owne would evermore read this
interiour history. Where our Cyphar shiftes with sud-
dennes, our decypherer needeth more patience.

FRA. B.

A TREATISE OF MELANCHOLY. 1586.

T. BRIGHT.

Verily, to make choyse of mouthpeeces 'for our voice,
is farre fro' being a light or pleasi'g, but quite necessarie
and important, missio' ; and it oft in truth swaloweth all we
receive from our writtings ere such cost be paid. None
must thinke, however, that this doth moove us to forego th'
worke. Rather would a slowly approaching death bee
desir'd, or haste'd to summo' us quicklie, then that we now
weaken in our great undertaki'g of writing out, in our

90 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

secrete but playne manner of transmitti'g, our history, as
hath here bene sayd in our other Cyphar ; also a most full
and compleat storie of this so-styl'd maiden queene, her
marriage, when prisonner at the Tower at command o'
Queene Mary, and her prior mad love profess'd for Sey-
mour, a man manie a yeare elder yet not greatly wiser then
th' willf ull princesse.

The early piety, that manie credulou' men attempt to
proove, is most disprov'd by so unnecessary intemperance,
wantonnesse, and over vehemence of affection, betrai'd
towards a gentleman olde enough, if vertuoslie inclined, to
guide a young princesse to piety, when in her co'fide'ce,
for sundry thi'gs come with experie'ce, rather the' give
her greefe, or future sorrow, never asswag'd on earth.
Friendshippe alone should binde a man's mind strongly,
that he curbe well his inordinate concupiscence and sin.

He, by disownei'g the child, subjected the princely
heart to ignominie, and co'pelled Elizabeth to murder this
infant at the very first slight breath, least she bee openly
sham'd in Court, inasmuch as King Edward was intoller-
ant of otheres foibles, whilst partiall to his owne.

This sad narrative is in the other Cyphar. It could not
bee at once incorporated, because the parts should not bee
plact near to one another. It must be quickly scene, there-
fore, it was needfull to commingle manie stories in one
booke. None having beene finish'd at this* time, the faith-
full decypherer is most solemnlie enjoin'd to follow th' one
he can worke out at once, because it hath manifold instruc-
tions for Cyphar writing, which should doubtlesse be of
great use in a future work of a sorte much unlike anything
hee hath yet seene.

It is undoubtedly possible so to write anything what-
soever, that any who hath sufficient witte, join'd with as
great a measure of patience, may work out th' hidden his-

*Second Ed., published same year.

IN A TREATISE OF MELANCHOLY. 91

torie without other directions then he heerein may duly
finde. We have in our idole times amused and likewise
well assured ourselfe of our inve'tion, of which wee most
frequently speake, by ourselfe working from our published
worke, that which formerly bore other names, th' some-
times weak yet not unworthy portio's translated from noble
Homer, his poemes, or great Virgill's verse. By such
maner of finding parts of the hidden stories, this contri-
vance is very constantlie in emploiement, and all our future
discypherer's difficulties, by prevision, made lesse, so that
he should not, in th' midst of his work, in wearinesse turne
backe.

In many workes such as the poemes at present sup-
pos'd to belong to Spenser and Greene the discypherer
wil see portions of a secret storie chieflie co'cerning our
lovely Marguerite of Navarre, Queene of that realme and
our heart. Love of her had power to make the Duke of
Guise forget the greatest honours that France might confer
upon him ; and hath power as wel to make all such fleeting
glory seeme to us like dreames or pictures, nor can wee
name ought reall that hath not origin in her. At one time
a secret jealousy was consta'tlie burning in our vains, for
Duke Henry then f ollow'd her day in and out, but she hath
given us proof of love that hath now sette our hart at rest

on th' qua?ry.

FRANCIS, PRINCE O' WALES.

EUPHUES MOKAKDO. 1587.

ROBERT GREENE.

Happie th' man, who, wearing in humble life a crowne
such as the Jewes of former dayes platted for th' Christ,
must win later the much priz'd golden rigoll which is worne
by mortall men who are blest. Shut our eyes we cannot.
A hand upon th' heart would not crush out the life, as doth

92 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

feare that we may fail to win our proper crowne though th'
Queene be our *mother.

Dailie we see cause of this co'stantlie increasing
dread, in the favour shewne to our brother rather than to
ourselfe, despite the prioritie of our clayme to all princelie
honour. And th' frenzied eagernes hee doth bewray,
when these shews and vauntlinglie marked favours, give
co'firmatio' strong as proofes o' Holie Writ of our wise-
dome, maketh us to inquire sadly of our owne hart
whether our brother returneth our warm affection. The
love we beare him is as fresh at this day, as it was in his
boyhoode, when the relationship was for some time so
carefully kept unknow r n as th' fact was, for yeares,
guarded of our high birth and station. Xot a thought then
enter'd th' brain, that it was not a pleasure for us both to
share. Our joies were thus two-fold, our sorrowes all cut
in twaine ; but th' pride of his heart having beene aroused,
our eies can but note th' change, for hee seldom doth keep
the former waies in remembrance. Even in his manner
now, we thinke, one thought hath a voyce: "Without a
brother like ours that hath come before us by sixe short
yeares, we could rely whollie upon ourselfe, and, further-
more, bee th' heyre to England's throne." Nothing soe
open, so unmistakeable ; but at times he maketh a great
shew, stranger to our heart then the colde ungracious
manner.

When this spirit of kindnes is felt noe more when
this shall, be lost th' minde can furnish few thoughtes,
wrought thro' pain, from mem'ries of th' past houres o' joy,
to comforte and console it, Whe' th' heart hath suffer'd
change, and a breach beginneth to widen, noe wordes fill it
up. An altred affection, one weakly parteth from, of neede,
for noe redresse is suitable.

*Morando.

IN MORANDO. 93

The chiefe cause nowe of the uneasinesse is, however,
the questio' that hath risen regarding these plots of Mary,
and those of th' olde faith a question of Elizabethe's
clayme to the throne, and therefore, likewise, our owne.
With everyone whose aime putteth him very seldom to
blush, in heart, we desire onelie that this supreme right
shall bee also supreme power. This doth more depende
npon some work of Henries, then this secret royale espousall
wee mention oft. Hence a wish that is not perhaps un-
worthie in us, under such peculiar circumstances surround-
ing not only ourself e but our brother, to write another his-
tory.

F. B.

PEEIMEDES PAKDOSTO. 1588.

ROBERT GREENE.

Til other writings have bene finish'd, you cannot carry
out the wish we doe so frequentlie utter, that the deciph-
erer shall take up a grave taske that of writing againe a
historic that shal be as strange as one in a suspitious drama
not claiming to be narrative save of a fayned storie. . 'Tis,
however, true in everie circumstance as true as truth.
Our heart is almost bursting with our indignation, grief,
and sorrowe ; and wee feel our penne quivering, as a steed
doth impatientlie stand awaiting an expected note of the
home o' the hunt, ere darti'g, as an arrowe flies to the targe,
across moor and glen. We write much in a feverous long-
ing to live among men of a future people. Here in the
Court, th' story is but as th' tale that the olde wives tell as
they sit in comfort by the fire tho' it be tolde as truth,
seldome accredite'. It is ofttimes repeeted, yet is as fre-
quently waived ; for 'tis as dangerous sorte of speech as can

94 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

come within th' compasse of faithful courtiers' intercourse.
'Twould show ill, if publisht so that all within reach might
know it, besides costing our life, altho' it is truth itself.
Manifestly the truth is now da'gerous and should bee con-
ceal'd. Rex you must know to be our future title.

F., PR. OF W.

SPANISH MASQUERADO. EDITIONS 1589.
ROBERT GREENE.

Turn to a booke entitul'd Alcida, a Metamorphosis,
befo' you decipher that most interesting Tale of Troie,
lately written to make a piece suited to our translatio' of th'
divine workes of Homer, Prince of Poetes, and also of
noble Virgill, co'ceal'd in cyphars. Thinking to be, by a
waie of our devising, able to write the secret story so that it
may in a time not farre off acquaint many of our people
with our true name, we also do ask, (in al of our work we
publish under names that be almost trite) that every arte
bee used to take th' Cyphre out. Works o' Homer, printed,
cannot go to oblivion; and if our carefull planne preserve
those rich gemmes, it shal build our owne moniment of that
which shall outlast all els, and make our name at least
reflect the glorie, that must as long as our changing, sub-
tlie altering mother-tongue endure be seene af arre.

FR., PRINCE.

Another edition of above printed same year.

Turn to a booke entitul'd Alcida, a Metamorphosis,
befo' you decipher that milde Tale o' Troy, that may, truth
to say, well be nam'd a cistur', because severall riven rockes
yet give sacred dewe therto verses of Homer of unmatch'd
beautie ; of th' prince, soe nam'd, of those that it pleas'd to

IN SPANISH MASQUERADO. 95

write in Latine, Virgill ; Petrarck in a fine line ; or Ennius,
braving daily surly critike but miraculouslie kept soe free
as to strike all with dismaie. Our one hope of leaving our
cipha' historic in like surrou'dinges, you, by marking soe-
cal'd joining or co'bining keies, doe as easily unmask as we
do inve't a meanes to hide. The furtherance of our much
cherrish'd plan, keepeth us heartened for our work, making
hope, or wish even of immediate recogniza'ce, of little con-
sequence beside such possible renowne as might bee ours in
a farre off age thorow our i'vention. When first our
wo'drous Ciphar, surging up in the minde, ingu'ft our
nightly thought, th' mind far out-ran al posi (Incomplete
joins with some other work not yet deciphered.)

FRANCIS BACON'S

BI-LITERAL CIPHER

PART II.

(Reprint, Second Edition. )

THE DECIPHERED SECRET STORY.
1590 to 1635.

CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED.

H **

Complaints.

Containing fundne
[mall Toemes of the

Worlds

t next Pag
menti-

By ED. SP.

L O N D O N.

Imprinted

Pwf&ntie, dv/clling in Paules
Churchyard at the figne of
the

A note of the ftindrie Poemcs contained
in this Volume.

/ Thc f RjtincsofTimc\

2 The T cares of the zJMufcs.

3 Uirgils Gnttt*.

4 r Pro/opopoia i or *JM other Hubberd$ T*lc>

5 The RuinesofRome : by Bcllay.

6 tjliuiofotmotpt The Tale of the.32 utter jtie.

7 Uiponi of the Worlds vantoe.

8 TiettAycs vifions.

9 Tctrarchesvipons.

EDMUND SPENSER.

COMPLAINTS.
1590 AND 1591.

As feares for life are powerfull motives for the adoptio'
of secret methodes of inscribing such portions of history
as the sovereign chooseth to have shut within the memory,
you may not think strange if you discover here a Ciphe'
epistle, but we earnestly beseech and humbly pray you to
be the guard to our secret as to your owne.

In truth our life is now put in real deadly dange' from
her that hath our *destiny as in the hollowe o' her smal
palme. Her selfe-love *more then our good fame dom-
inates in her whole heart, being powerfull to *oreballance
sweete mothe' love. *Betray not our dear hope, for soe
much doth our life seeme made up of nought else, if it
bee lost wee dye and make no signe.

A man doth slowly eat his very inmost soule and hart,
when there shall cease to bee a friend to whom he may
open his inner thought, knowledge, or life, and it is to you,
by means little knowne and lesse suspected at present writ-
ing, that we now addresse an epistle. But if you bee as
blinde to this as others, this labour's lost, as much as love's
in th' play we have staged of *late.

Our name is Fr. Bacon, by adoption, yet it shall be dif-
ferent. Being of blood roial, (for the Queene, our sov'-
raigne, who maried by a private rite the Earle Leicester
and at a subseque't time, also, as to make *surer thereby,

*Visions of the World's Vanitie. *Visions of Bellay.
""Visions of Petrarch. *Epistle Dedicatory, etc.

*Ruine of Time. *Tears of the Muses.

2 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

without pompe but i' th' presence o' a suitable number of
witnesses, bound herself e by those hymeneall bands againe
is our mother, and wee were not base-born or base begot)
we be Tudor, and our stile shall be Francis First, in all
proper cours of time, th' king of our realme.

Early in our life, othe or threat as binding in effect
as othe, wee greatly doubt was made by our wilful parent
concerning *succession, and if this cannot bee chang'd, or
be not in time w'thdraAvn, wee know not how th' kingdome
shall be obtain'd. But 'tis thus scene or shewn that it can
bee noe other's by true desce't, then is set down. To
Francis First doth th' crowne, th' honor of our land belong.

Some have won this right by force in battaile. Of such
take, in example, th' first Tudor; or, at our day, Henry of
Navarre. Yet, not being of a martiall temper, we bee
naturally averse, and slightlic impatie't of fighting to
*secure a place which by Divine right pertaineth unto the
first-borne of a soveraigne.

If you note th' saltnesse of this relation, let it not great-
lie surprise you: rather marvell at it if you see no worse
things, for we are somewhat bitter in spirit oft-times as
other men would be.

It killes joyes blossomes on seing by one's side glide all
feares; and some by struggles, tiring ene the might of
noblest and th' most daring of soldiers, strive t' get an
advantage of *their besetting foes. But wee choose
another waye, and a different course. A ruler, especially
a ruler of so mightie a kingdome as this, having power in
a wondrous degree, sho'ld winne like fame. It is this wee

seeke.

F. B.

* Virgil's Gnat. Prosopopoia.

*Ruines of Rome.

COLIN CLOVTS

Come home againe.

S) Ed. Spencer.

LONDON
Printed for William fonfonlie.
I 39 5*-

TO THE RIGHT

worthy and noble Knight

Sir Walter Raleigh y CaptaineofherMaiefties

Guard, Lord Wardeinofthe Stanncries,

and Lieutenant of the Count ie of

Cornwall*

(V)

/ R, that you may fee that lamrtotal-
waiesydle AS yee thinke , though not
greatly well occupied , nor altogether
vnduti fully though not prccifely of-
fcious^ Imakeyottprefent ofthtsfim-
plepaftorall) vnworthit of your high-
er conceiptforthemeanejfe ofthejlife,
but agreeing with the truth in circumstance and mat-
ter. The -which 1 humbly befeecb you to accept in part
cfpaiment of the infinite debt in which 1 acknowledge
my felfe-bounden 'unto you, for your Jtngular fauours
andfundrie good turnes shewed to me at my late being
in England^ and with your good countenance protect a-
gainst the malice of euill mouthes , which are alwaits
wide opento carpe at and mifconff rue my fimple meaning.

A 2 /

The EpifileDedicarorie.

/ prty -continually for your bappineffe. From my houje
of Kilcolman, the 27. of December, *
I j 9 I.

Yours euer humbly.
Ed. sp.

IN COLIN CLOUT.

COLIN CLOUT.
1595.

As all eies have glanc'd but lightly on such a Cyphar
in th' former poems put out in this name," our fear may
rest, for surely no eye is bente suspiciouslie or with inquiry
upon anie.

Often was worke, when in danger of too strict or careful
note, divided, and but a part given foorth at a time, e. g.
some latelie set forth in th' name of Greene and Peele, or
in this, a few yeares ago. Marlow is also a pen name
^mploi'd ere taking Wm. Shakespeare's, as our masque or
vizard, that wee should remayne unknowne, inasmuch as
wee, having worked in drama, history that is most
vig'rously supprest, have put ourself e soe greatly in dange'
that a word unto Queene Elizabeth, without doubt, would
give us a sodaine horriblle end an exit without re-en-
trance for in truth she is authour and preserve' of this,
our being. We, by men call'd Bacon, are sonne of the
sov'raigne, Queene Elizabeth, who whe' confin'd i' th'

tow'r, married Ro. D.

FR. B.

4 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

FAERIE QUEENE.
1596.

E. Sp. could not otherwise so easilie atchieve honours
that pertyne to' ourself e. Indeed this would alone crowne
his head, if this were all I speake not of golden crowne,
but of lawrell for our pen is dipt deepe into th' Muses'
pure source.

Although to conceale these Cyphe', th' works thus
appear' d, we were in good hope that whe' our divers small
poemes might bee scene in printed forme, th' approvall o'
Lord Leicester might be gain'd: hee, as doubtlesse you
found in earlier decyphering, being our owne father, and
in a waie, having matters in his hands regarding the rec-
ognition, and th' remuneratio' Her Ma. should offer, suit-
ably rewarding soe great labours. Th' wish to shew our
God-given powers and gifts of song warr'd with th' resolve
made in heat of young bloud alreadie familiar as a vow
from your own soule, inasmuch as it can onely bee car-
ried on thro' your aide.

The hidden letter taketh man back to a time in Eliza-
beth's raigne, cloaked, as might bee said, in a night blacker,
if that be possible, then .Night, or ./Egyptian, Stygian or
anie blacknesse knowne to anie times or peoples.

Fewe women of any countrey, royall or not, married or
single, would play so madly dari'g, so wildly venturing a

game, as Queene E , our willfuly blind mother, who

hath for many long yeares been wedded to th' Earle of
Leicester. A king's daughter gave a worthie president to
all states, in that shee would wed as her wishes dictated,
not thro' negotiation and by treaty. But it would at pres-
ent appear to be forgotten since we hoped to winne youth-

IN FAERIE QUEENE. 5

full love's first blossome for life's girlo'd but were refus'd,
and helde to customarie observances as firmlie as anie cere-
monial court might require. It was upon this grievous
failure (much more grievous at that blacker houre of
mourning for our kind father of our earliest remembrance,
if not our sire in th' naturall way of bloud) a great attract
wonne more on our minde our true right, true, lawfull,
divine gift, our kingdome more from plain statements
that were made concerning our true hope of the succes-
sion; yet Her Ma. though given to rashnesse, seldome
speaketh out of her hart in presence-hal, or whylst i' th'
councell, having a desire of showi'g foorth the royal tem-
per of her sire rather then a woman, her spirit.

All this work'd with some power in th' yong heart. One
historick drama afterward, gave th' first full history therein,
but it is in a Word-Cypher, that doubtful as our aventure
seem'd, we are in hope is master'd. Th' Cipher playes are
a good ensample of th' dramas we now write, and tho' it be
not secret, the history of King Edward First and King
Edward Second will not appeare in our name, th' Cypher
letters being contain'd in these, but Edouard Third was
us'd for proofe of th' Cypher we give. Th' keies may bee
found soone, and wee will now shew an argument of the
play for ayd to a correcte writing.

You will thus observe that in plays, onlie scenes which
hold the eye are of Use. We commence, therefore, with
th' seizure of Eoger Mortimer who rul'd with the ayd, so
cald, of th' Queene-mother. Edouard was leader of a
choyce number, bardie and bold in temper, so that when
he dema'ded that he should be declar'd king, Parliament
promptly issued the proclamation making him ruler.

No sooner was hee well establisht in England in great

6 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

power, then he straightwaie elaim'd the crowne of riche
France since he was sonne t' the sister of King Philip, th'
late sov'raigne, whereupon th' councel make answer in
strong deni'l of such right, as by the Sa[l]ike lawe th'
throne is neither held nor can be transmitted thro' a woman.

The warres which folow'd were long and cruell. At
Crecie Prince Edward, named the Black Prince, could by
noe means be restrained fro' battaile. He was then giv'n
charge of th' troops at their right, which he array 'd so
that th' men-att-armes, who being more sturdy of build,
stood fastest in line; then with English weapon'd archers
he formed a mighty hearse and comanded all to remaine
firme, nor advance. Seeing th' knights rushing tumult-
uously to battaile, his eager men chafed and faine had dis-
obey 'd their orders but the Prince bade his train'd war-
riours stand firme and await their foes. When but a
stone's throwe distante they were allow'd a single stride
forward; their aime, being so cool, was sure as th' shafts of
Death. France saw her bravest o' souldiers slaine like
sheepe.

Warwicke, and th' troopes he led, folowed the example
in th' maine body; and Oxford, commanding his left wing,
also kept his eager troopes in checke after the same man-
ner. It was the good fortune of the Prince to slaie by his
owne hand th' king of Bohemia, aydant o' the French.
Wearinesse seeiu'd far from his limbs and his corage
flagg'd not, but seeing him rushing into the conflicte, a
messenger went t' find Edward's sire beseeching aide.

"But," asked the sire, "hath my sonne fallen?"

"No, Your Ma."

"Nor wounded?"

"Noe, unhurt, Your Ma."

IN FAERIE QUEENE. ?

"A prisoner?"

"Free, Yo' Ma."

"Say yee he needeth ayde? My lion's whelp shall win
glory to-day. This is a mighty vict'ry none may share."

A victory it was. but hardly wonne, and it did not end
our troubles in that land afterwards there was Poictiers,
also Callice. Then was th' black death sent upon the peo-
ple from farre-of Cathay and the dead were numberlesse.
All Europe by that dread scorge felt th' heavy hand of
God. By th' black death was Laura snatcht from th' poete.
Divine sorrow gave his pen its theme. England was almost
depriv'd of labourers, for the plague was heavie o' those
whom coarsenesse of comon food ingrosed, yet those who
were fed with fare o' th' king perish'd likewise.

In th' third division, since (i) it was necesary to have
noe lesse then these in order t' represent his long raigne,
you see th' waning fortunes of Prince Edward in th' south.
Losse of faire Limoges not long afte' th' putting of th'
worthlesse king of Spayne on the trembling throne of th&t
countrey by th' aide of their soe c

FAERIE QUEENE.
SECOND PART, JOINS.
1596.

[c] ailed free companies Pedro of surname, th' cruell un-
favourably looked upon as it was, it in noe wave daunted
him, our conquering prince, nor restrai'd him. However,
hee had but half enjoyed this triumph of his troopes in th'
South, before th' Bastard unseated Pedro and made him
seeke shelter in France. Following slowly, Edward, no
lesse courageous, I [ay] more gallant even, found many
thinges captivating to th' hero. In such a mode of life,
his spoiles were quickly expended. Th' sweating hast of

'8 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

th' long marches, compleatly exhausting the men and dim-
inishi'g the eagernesse to goe into battaile, th' seductive and
thoroughly eiiervati'g revells that the souldiers follow'd as
eagerlie as they had pursu'd the foe, nowe made it neces-
sarie to go home to bring ove' his forces, and alreadie he
began to bee aware that his returne wou'd lacke .much of
the interesse and excitement that attended him on a former
occasio'. Also hee knew that his honour wo'ld bee far
lesse, his entrie lesse glorious and triumphant then when th'
King of Fra'ce rode as a prisonner beside him.

It might then, we sho'ld have sayd, bee readilie seene
that hee stood high in all the people's harts. London
seemed to stryve to outshine ev'n herselfe, soe that they
spar'd neither pains nor money to adde to the honour or his
glory. On this occasion lesse glory was given him by th'
comon hindes, and th' bonfires which they love best were
soe few, hee, himselfe, inquired: "Is there no more fewel?
Are we povertie strucken?"

After soe milde a wellcome, his spirit yearn'd greatly
for more conquests, yet hee fell quicklie into the Syren's
snares of pleasure, like his sire, that was for long in stro'g
bondes, not becoming or kinglie. Many courtiers eagerly
imitating a well honour'd king in his vices, our good olde
England soe well renown'd thro' Europe, and ev'n unto
Jewrie for sobriety, nowe began to bee kiiowne for her
mirth and gaiety.

After th' decease of the vertuous Phillipa, Edward was
greatly in the power of one of a great number of ladies
which surrou'ded all this traine, even as the gay women
els'where thro'g round courtiers. He had given th' name
of "Th' Lady of the Sun" to the fayre being, and it is no
doubt quight a prope' style, being, I am assured, every

IN FAERIE QUEENE. 9

wave fitting; for fewe on earth have so dazling beauty,
verilie, like to that lovelinesse of Circe, f aire daughter of
Phoebus. Her triumphs were compleat, as it may well be
conceyv'd, whilst Edward's supreame sovereignty lasted,
but after awhile she drank the sweetnese from her full
glasse and found its dregs as bitter as wormewoode. Wise
Solomon would have foretold this sodain downefal, if she
had but read it in th' Book of Wisdom. You may seeke
it, if it be doubtf ull to yourself e. Blind fate could not bee
a sterner, or in truth, soe sterne an executioner. But I
do digresse.

After these portio's have their great contrasts most
clearlie set out, I shew th' death of this hero, yet not too
fully. That of the King is, however, omited, my wish
being to fixe men's mindes rather upon the doughtinesse
that he exhibited, his other qualities of a true and wise man
of th' olde times, whe' to bee king compelled him to wear
armoure, and leade into a battell, aventuring everiethi'g
of valew, life, kingdome, people, to retayne his posses-
sions.

To mine owne selfe this waye of maintaining the Divine
right is repugna't, and when I come at last into my right,
th' power of the minde shall by my wisdome as may be
said by th' writer of Cypher workes that possiblie be con-
ceal'd so well that noe other eie may se how wise he is in
his conceipt bee shewne to be greatly exceeding that of
the sinewy right arme. This is my hope in labour, oft as
hard and as fatigui'g as falleth to him that hath alwaies
toyl'd for his bread, as 'tis by such meanes that kingly
mindes should bee disciplin'd.

Th' fears that fill'd and harrassed all my minde, when
with a strong motive for secrecy soe well knowne to my dis-

10 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

ciph'rer, this Cypher was i'vented, have become farre more
constant, for I can observe maiiie things which pointe to
great watchf nines o' th' part of those whom my. mother,
thorow that spye Cecill, hath beene induc'd to set to minde
everie interest and employme't that I have. This writing
doth attracte attention, yet is not known to come fro' my
penne, therefore I may freely open my soule herein and
give to posterity this sad story of my misfortunes and still
cherish this hope that a time shall come when right shall

prevayl. Your humble servant,

FRA'C. BACON.

SHAKESPEARE QUAKTO.

RICHARD SECOND.

1598.

By having Arte for a guidi'g word, it must be only
quicke sight could see where my discipherer hath bin
directed. Other men, indeed, or such as were induc'd to
take my works wil winne his attention by word or signe
known to the faithfull man who is to bring this history to
that vast world which lieth dreamlesse far, far off, as a
thing apart. These are as Greene, his worke, hath said.
First all those great yet lame lines, none having sight of
think to contayn anie Cyphe', and the epickes of Faerie
Queene, Honour; Marlowe's fine guide, Reputation;
Peele's, Nature; Melanc'olie, Truth; Greene, Fortune car-
rieth. My guide is Time, as all that I do, tho' great, sus-
taineth such change of forme as Time maketh desired, and
little hath at this writing come forth as Time's other then
a little prose, for great secrets will surelie have to guard
all doores t' avoid surprises and capture.

Men call me Bacon but I am the Queene's future heyre.

IN DAVID AND BETHSABE. 11

GEOKGE PEELE.

DAVID AND BETHSABE.
1599.

You looke thorowe our worke and finde but part of noted
Cypher of use to all. Axes and every kinde of weapon
would fall with swifte justice on th' head of th' adventurous
man that should openlie inserte such historic here. Her
Ma. should by so mad daring, dubbe me, to th' courageous
men of our broad land, as a Sonne of Follie. You, I know,
muse on it wond'ri'g at a tale soe hidden when so oft over-
lookt by my many inquiring or inquisitive enimies; but
none hath yet found the secret herein told. You must give
everything grav' attentio' if any other famed Cyphars be
found. ISTone must hold the opinion that our history may
be giv'n with speedy pen, since there be much of a secret
nature closelie conjoyn'd, and in puting foorth our Cyphe',
must nere be pass'd by.

Although not our life, it can at once, wee do assure you,
be cleerly shewne, noe chapter may wel be lefte, as all
twineth closelie, bindi''g such firme bands noe one may sep-
arate them. The story that we related o'' th' life that we

led at the Court at Fr (pages missing)

.... but all must first bee found in our workes.

Confessio's do somewh't discompose anie that doe think
our work but a pastime. It is quite well worth our weary

labor.

FRA'CIS B.

12 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

SHAKESPEARE QUARTOS.

MIDSOMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.

ROBERTS EDITION 1600.
i
That unfinish'd work may furder occupy your time and

until one play have beene wel decipher'd let noe othe' have
atte'tion for the storie, oft in disjoin'd and broken work,
will give ayd.

Read of a man of our realm that at morn, or eve, plai's
spy on my everie act under great secrecy, and gave me
manie a cause in m' youth to make life in Fraunce most
beneficent. Of his great hatre', one o' my greatest sor-
rowes grewe, and my hasty banishme't following quite
close, that at that time seem'd maddening, but as in th'
most commone of our youthful experiences, became the
chiefe delight. In plays that I wrote about that time, the
story of bane and blessings, of joies and greefes, are wel set
forth. Indeede, some might say my passion the' had much
youthly fire, but th' hate that raged i' mee then was not
so fierie, in truth, as th' fierce hate so continualy burning i'
th' breast and ofte unwiselie betraid by th' overt acts of the
man o' whom I have writ many things.

In my hart, too, love so soone ore-threw envie as wel as
other evil passions, after I found lonelie Margaret, the
Queene o' Navarre, who willingly fram'd excuses to keepe
me, with other right royall suitors, ever at her imperiall
commandeme't. A wonderful pow'r to create heav'n upon
earth was i' that lov'd eye. To winne a shewe o' her fond
favour, we were faine to adventer even our honor, or fame,
to save and shield her. Thorow love I dreamed out these
five other plays, fill'd up as we have seen warp in some

MIDSOMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 13

hand-loome, so as to bee made a beautious color'd webb
with words Marguerite hath soe ofte, like to a busy hand,
shot dailie into a fayre-hued web, and made a riche-hued
damask, vastlie more dear; and should life bewwraie [an]
interiour room in my calme but aching brest, on everie

hand shal her work be seene.

F. BACON.

MIDSOMMER NIGHT'S DREAM.
FISHER EDITION 1600.

It is noe matter if, on discyph'ring one of my Cipher
playes, part of wjiich may be already taken forth, something
shal lacke. Th' play must of necessity bee an unfinished
worke untill its entire matter come from hiding.

This no one can doubt, without manifest lacke o' judge-
ment, is yet f arre offe. 'Tis th' labour of yeares to provide
th' widely varied prose in which th' lines of verse have a
faire haven, and lye anchor' d untill a day when th' coming
pow'r may say : "Hoist sayle, away ! for the windes of heav'n
kisse your fairy streamers, and th' tide is a-floode. On to
thy destiny !"

You would do well to keepe these numerous, ornate
plays close by j th' disguyse in many cases, of more seri'us
history then I plac'd in writings noted as works on grave
and most important matters. As noe eie is turn'd on inno-
cente seeming plays of any kinde, the well hidd'n history
may long be safe too safe to work me good or ill in my
lifetime I now beleve, yet I have a faith that it will some-
time be marked and decipher d, whilst no reall asurance at
present being a possibility, terror is in my nightly dre'mes
ene as it is in many daye-visiones least it should bee while
my selfish, vaine, unnaturall and selfe-will'd or kingly

14 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

mer[e] who nere lov'd a sonne, although that Heaven
gave her these twoo, Essex and myselfe, halfe so well as a
parent should can doe me more harme. I am Francis,
unacknoweleged prince, who was, at a time when saf'tie
made it prude't, giv'n to kinder care and love, on th' side o'

my adoptif mere, then a parent's.

F. B.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
1600.

Some kinds of little imprints were invented, as former
shew of my timelie suggestion here, would, I dare to be
sworne, cause some sharpe-eyed foe to seek my lost name
in the name used as my one true instructor dictateth. Pru-
dence hath as good cou'sels in times of danger as sadder
Experience, and I list onely to her voyce, when my life
would, none can doubt, be a spedy, ay' insta't forfeit.

For, old as my mere, Elizabeth, England's Queene, is,
none can make th' proud, selfish, hating parent, though
bound to name him who should in time succe'd to th' throne,
shew what most might prove my just, lawful, or, if th' word
bee a proper one in such a place, a divine, as by a right
Heaven-given, heyr-shippe, having bin borne, as manie
times you have found tolde elsewhere, child to th' Queene.

IsFo man hath claime to such pow'r as some shal se in
mighty England, after th' decease of Virgin Queene E. by
dull, slow mortalls farre or near, loved, wooed like some
gen'rously affected youth-loving mayden, whylst she is both
wife to th' noble lord that was so sodainely cut off in his
full tide and vigour of life, and mothe' in such way as
th' women of the world have groaninglie bro't mankinde
foorth, and must whilst Xature doth raigne of two noble

SIR JOHN OLD-CASTLE AND MERCHANT OP VENICE. 15

sonnes, Earle of Essex, train'd up by Devereux [and] he
who doth speake to you, th' foster sonne to two wel fam'd
frie'ds o' th' Que., Sir Mchola' Bacon, her wo'thie adviser
and counselor, and that partne' of loving labor or dutie, my
most loved Lady Anne Bacon none needeth soe mentio',
truly not to my new, true, bold fr'end, that far from mee
through th' spaces o' th' universe, both of duration as well
as distance, wil take forth the secret history.

SIR JOHN OLD-CASTLE

AND MERCHANT OP VENICE.

J. ROBERTS ED. 1600.

See or read. In th' stage-plaies, two, the oldest or
earliest devices prove these twentie plays to have bin put
upon our stage by the actor that is suppos'd to sell dramas of
value, yet 'tis rightlie mine owne labor. Withal after I did
dilatate with carefull arte th' plan, I did not doubt the quick
decipherer would from it trie other devices also; yet as too
niarkt care might place a worke in more perill, indeede
saith as clearly to a babe "It is secret work, see!" as [to]
deciph'rers, even may th' rule evade inquiry now of eke
th' sharpe eyes bending upon it.

Law, a f aire code, was trite and is nowise so plact when
it is written as was jesting John Premier, his declaratio's,
upon trees, to bee th' target of idle archers. It was with as
bare-faced audacitie, I doubt not, habituallie assailed as
might have bin wel fortho't. Hare were a sight, indeed,
when men, who ever hold it [is] man's very need of
lighter workes and entertaynme't bri'geth back bard, sweete

16 BI-L1TBRAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

poetes criticks never shal spare, crown'd with blig'ted
wre'ths of baye, saying that noe authour with an interesse
in rude humanity, who serving God hateth wro'g, wil write
as I ha.ve i' both prose and poetry of crime, or aught that
th' jesting fooles saye or sing, I kno' not of whom, or th'
pangs or the joy o' love, may see any o' their owne so wel
kepte evills acted upon our stage.

I am base, if, in sight o' th' God both Jew and Chret'en
revere, I [ay] who awed th' gods of other lands, not
lawe, but evil, governed my mother, Elizabeth, as shee
join'd herselfe in a union with Robert Dudley whilst th'
oath sworne to one as belov'd yet bound him. I have bene
told hee aided in th' removall of this obstructio', when,
turni'g on that narrowe treach'rous step, as is naturall, shee
lightly leaned upon th' raile, fell on th' bricks th' paving
of a court and so died. 'Tis I greatly fear, as true, ev'n,
as 'tis misterious, and left a foul blot that is cli'ging yet to
his name, still keeping of his closelie done ill, a thou't f arre-
reaching as is this universe.

This shal all be seene on the stage, and a play shal tel a
tale pride shall not keepe, because I am justlie, or by th'
lawe, th' Pr. o' Wales, *royall and soe honour'd, grac'd with
senses most sharpelie struck or mov'dby the meteor of world-
lie grandeur. This is little to be ma' vail' d at, for th' sensi-
bilities ofte cause our fancies, and are like an instrume't in
the musicia's skilful fingers.

If noe cadent teares come to my decyph'rer, I thinke it
stranger then hardnesse in others, as 'tis his part t' take the
hidden secret fro' this outer false cov'ring with which 'tis
disguised, give it to a posterity that is distant, and neither
will seeke for, or bee at all cognizante of th' same, without

Merchant of Venice.

SIR JOHN OLD-CASTLE AND MERCHANT OF VENICE. 17

th' aide of a friend that shall with patience put it forth. If
this [be] clear'd, fann'd, and clarified, that all unworthy
thi'gs be remov'd as dregs from wort, as bad orts from grain
or as lees fro' wine, doing this, hee is but part of myself e
doth know iriteriour workings of the minde, as he doth
unde'stand or is consciou' of those of his own minde.

In truth a man's thorough opening thus to a fr'end all
that his braine co'ceiveth, or th' soule is co'scious of, will
oft save his reason. He will eat his heart in lonelie musi'gs,
for oft a f eav'rous fire burneth in him, as werldes visions
shifting and looming with wondrous swiftnesse on th' view,
wooe th' minde from its labours to a restless tosse, as a shippe
is beaten by inercilesse windes, or like to egg-shells crush'd
togethe', broken to pieces, or soone made wrack.

This cannot be otherwise, with one knowing that he is
heire-apparent to this kingdome, outrag'd, wrong'd, dis-
honour'd by one whose maternall love was not of so great
strength as a desire for pow'r. In such a sonne, th' wisest
our age thus f arr hath shewen, pardon, prithee, so u'seemly
a phrase, I must speake it heere, th' mother should lose
selfish vanitie and be' actuated only by a desire for his
advancement.

With Elizabeth it is not markt. A sonne can nere share
in regall and governeing duties, but Essex at one time grew
verie arrogant havi'g for a faire season our gay mere's hon-
ourable and snstayning favour and the aydant interesse of
our p6re.

At that time I knew my owne claime to favour must,
yeelded publikely, bee as truly yielded up afterwards. I
make a boast in speaking so, yet, Kobt. shall c
(Joins with some other work not yet deciphered.)

18 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK.
1600.

(Some work precedes this, not yet deciphered.)

* 'sh none. They consider that, our stage,
of no suitable furniture no way bettered by half light
[the] rivall of palmie G [rjeece or proud Rome when at th'
pinacle of glorie. Mine had for a period lesse honour, as
you without any doubt know quite wel in truth, not on
accompte of the season or such well known or feigned rea-
sons. You should assuredly also find al these, an' so th'
true name these plays must, at some remote epoch of th'
worldes great history, wear, when, my first Cypher letter
having bene made an epistle of wishes my f aithefull fr'end
must fulfil, they have bene published as the f ruict of many
yeeres.

But, at this writing, saf'ty is .as much enda'ger'd by
accompting on such Cipher disguising, as at anie past daye,
as a surly curre keepeth on with espionage or questiongs, to
give us mad thoughts o' revenge, making it as difficile as may
be thought, to escape his eyes.

It must send Mr. Robert Cecil on one errand with many
a sorrie, idle, and fruictles day to report to an instigator,
wily as he, and fully as slie, but it must preclude the possible
renowne I might some daie enjoy thro' these sev'rall
playes as I manie times ere now have made cleere if,
in time, a future fr'end, through most improbable but yet
equally desired seeking, as my discyph'rere, into many
subtily co'triv'd devices, cary not to completio' mine owne
good work. For to decypher plays will much incite this
'venturer. Rare is such royall apparell upon so strange

RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 19

inner storie, hid like a crime. Ay, so are many of the

Cipher histories relationes of ill. Penne, or man his arte,
doth coinma'd visions of th' dread, infamous actes dreamt of
by fiends, yet mark, all this, amidst so truely brutall hor-
rores, hath little that horrifies. Soe maskt, shut uppe, hid-
den, is much dread evill. Of truth the nearnes at present
doth now oppres hartes noe-wise affected, but it doth requite
labour since 'tis soe true.

Th' tardie epistle shal turne over an unknowne leaf of
the historic of our land. Presto, mark what words this strange
epistle thrust out. Th' booke herein hidd'n hath th' names
in middest o' the other parts o' those writers suppos'd t' pro-
duce th' plaies here mention'd. ]^one in fact were so created,
having come from but a si'gle braine, that o' him not long
herein, or amidst men that dar'd state an unpopular thing,
shewne as such. Her Majesty surely put great weight upon
th' vain and empty theories of th' seeres she most wish'd to
have cast her horoscope. These made so great "hate in our
hearts agay'st th' men who fed a most unwomanly notion
renowne as Maiden Queene as to make us f eare our owne
thoughts. Knowing well her hatred of th' desire o' my
fathe', by one other sin, which tho' more dire indeed then
others, work'd to give me th' presidence mine in right,
made to bee cognisant of his duty, I have plac'd it i' Cyphre.

F. B.

FRANCIS BACON.

A DECLARATION OF THE TREASONS ATTEMPTED AND

COMMITTED BY THE EARL OF ESSEX.

1601.

I write mildly of so terrible events, so galli'g memories
of fifteene such woful, ay, such dre'dfull daies, 'tis limn'd
i' fire on gloom of th' night or daye, Essex, thy murther.
To sharper clamours, stifled cries or piteous moans are
added, and my eares heare Robert's voyce, soe entreati'gly,
opening sealed dores, hau'ting all dreemes, gre'ting everie
daie that doth dawne on our home.

As wee, wrong'd enf an's of a queene no wilful rebelion
must raise (up) its pow'r upon, the heires, by law, to gold of
most umbratike crowne, to pow'r wholly royale, lov'd by
created men th' first wrecking th' surer honor and naturall
empire put upon him, that knowledge and consequently a
wider ki'gdome's rule thorow knowledge be gained also
th' heyres of honor, next in ranke to soveraigne power, made
effort to win a promise and assura'ce of this right, our royall
aspirations received a dampening, a checke soe great, it
co'vinc'd both, wee were hoping for advanceme't we might
never attaine.

It may bee, and some holde it excusation, my Lord, his
ambition, received the spurre in th' failure of soe reasonable
deina'ds. It is undeniable. I must say, to make these
things as plain to all as it could bee if hee himselfe repeated
these sentences, his originall planne much more inte'ded
my plaine right the' his owne, but I refused to liste to th'

TREASONS BY THE EARL OF ESSEX. 2l

charmer in th' ill-deserving, ill-succeedi'g designe, so that
some such fiery rebellion on the Earle, his part, was perhaps
onely a manifestation by waye of bragging shews or many
flaunts of various intents, that not I, but my gayer brother
was the darling, or the minion, of our people, specially of
th' Citie.

How it was overthrowne, dissprov'd, shatter'd, not Cipher
epistles have related in this mark'd sort, for lacke of oppor-
tune houres to work, but it may be read in the body o' the
present booke. But least soe evill a rumour shall rise that
this record should bee quite made waie with or bee after-
wards supprest, every truth must bee in a frame, inside a
verie greatly differing work.

By mine unsuspected small devices, his story may be pre-
serv'd, that my newer capitals seen plainlie, as anie eye that
look'd but keenly must surely by this time have noted, lesse
valew'd matter may co'vey. The capitalls of a part of some
of th' stage plays are often thus twice servi'g these secret
works. When this that is now bei'g discyph'red hath
reach'd completion, I have this request to prefer that th'
minor Cypher may bee us"'d. It proveth that a little of one's
reward, derived as such bee from gaining information, may
revive one's courage soe that hee do his longer taskes with
pleasure.

Whilst I write all, I se most cleerly not my owne folly
but my sinful weaknesse like as it must in the sight of one
Divine and Supream Judge of all creatures apeare. In the
blindnesse and confusio', th' moment's question loom'd up
before me and blotted out love, honor, all th' joyes of the
past or dreames of farre offe fame. Th^t briefe duration
much outvalewed Eternity itselfe. It is sad to looke back,
yet sadder to co'template th' future. All my late brothe'

22 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

hazarded will not so much linger, or it may be said, have soe
much waight in such thoughts, as my owne evermore accu-
mulating and abundant evidence o' th' unhappy effects of
his rash doings.

Her Majestie's regard and favour was by noe means ours
on account of our secret claime. It should rather bee noted
as a mark'd law, I may say without timorousnesse, the onely
shews of th' affection shee might be suppos'd to manifest,
sham'd us that they were understood. Time to tell whence
this came, doth serve, as I am desirous that th' curse
o' this realme hid so long, be made clear, yet shal I use. a
most blinde waie, and oft make sudden, unwisht, unprofit-
able change to allowe a seeker t' thinke it somethi'g of almost
as smal worth as th' wo'derfully curious devices wee have
heard it said much occupied people of a'cient ^Egipt. But
the device, soe well is it manag'd, doth holde as in imperish-
able amber the story given in this way.

Que. Elizabeth and Robert, th' Earle o' Leicester, were
join'd lawfully in wedlock before my comming. Essex w r ho
was also sonne unto Her Ma. and a brother bred bone,
bloud, sinnewes as my owne was sentenc'd to death by that
mere and my owne counsel. Yet this truth must at some
time be knowne ; had not I thus allow'd myself e to give some
countenance to th' arraignement, a subsequent triall, as wel
as th' sentence, I must have lost th' life that I held so price-
lesse. Life to a schola' is but a pawne for mankind.

FR. B.

LONDON PRODIGAL. 33

SHAKESPEARE QUARTOS.

LONDON PRODIGAL.

1605.

Do not pause for a moment to delve 'mid Cyphers where
rules put forth in the-Bi-literall possesse whatever directions
you might need.

It is not far off or undisciph'red drama hath such a proof,
and methods that in manie ways shew all our subtile intri-
cate inventions, but such as doth have on th' severall partes
printed one or other of the various pen-names used. Not
vEschylus, not Plautus, must be studied in this work,
and, as hath bene in Ciphars, many times over said to our
assistant, th' storie this worke co'taineth cannot in anie othe'
Cypher be seen in its full, naked, unblushing truth, for in
some plays we blench'd somewhat, this story our love staieth
soe long upon.

In each great part that wee shal bring into the world of
reading or thinking men, from this to our finis, th' tale may
be fou'd, th' saddest in anie or all th' known languages,
the historic of th' Earle of Essex, our brother. It is scat-
t'red with a lavish hand through th' manie and varied plays
which, in divers names are published, fro' th' numerous un-
sign'd yet mark'd or sealed manuscript, and, as time may
suit, are to be deciph'red, and, J after our owne part have
most o' th' secrets fitly hidd'n there, so brought out that
men o' th' future ^Rones must know our birth and parentage.

When one, decypheri'g so many different workes, shal
write a story oft as th' same shall appeare, woe worth the
hour! None can attempt history soe reiterate, and this,
decyphr'd, must straight bee tried, and, as gold that shall

24 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

adorne Solomon, his temple, have all which can dim its glory
taken forth. It shall be neyther more nor lesse tho' so tried ;
our designe, from th' mome't it was conceiv'd, being to put
great and importa't secrets in everie part o' these works, that
a decipherer shall not by any fault or omissio' o' ours, come
short of manie wonderful truths. Make this such entire and
suitable history, none, who liking ourpen greatly rejoice to
see this work, shal find it d'ficiente eene by a word.

FR. BACON.

FRANCIS BACON.

OF THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.
1605.

Take, reade! it is sore necessity that doth force me to
this very dry and also quite difficile Cyphar as a way or
methode of transmission. Seldome (though occasionalie
in th' bright but infrequent verse) lines of a published
booke may artfullie come, plact in my Cypher amongst
new matter; for all this bi-literall may do, shall be as an
helpe and aide to my former: one must cary on the other.

Therefore as you cease to be attracted by one, you may
folow another, but I am most assur'd that my long labor,
spent making such small devices with this scope, end, and
ayme, when completed and put out, boldlie given forth
under my signature or in some other name, shall have full
recompence of reward.

As one findeth that which doth already exist in his
minde a pre-notion more quickly, and will more. readily
arrive at th' goal when he doth keepe his eyes on it, soe
shall my discipherer make farre more advancement, keep-
ing steadilie on with my aide, nere turning aside with a
wand'ring eye.

It is for his advantage or benefitt, also, that th' lines
that I have mention'd shall occasionally come to view; th'
prenotion being thus form'd greatly asisteth many times,
and doth ayde th' eye to see th' symboles (signes) to shew
my discyphere' works of my penne in concealme't, or
rather in masque or disguise.

26 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

My stage plaies have all beene disguis'd (to wit, many
in Greene's name or in Peele's, Marlowe's, a fewe, such
as th' Queene's Masques and others of this kind published
for me by Jonson, my friend and co-worker) since I relate
a secret history therein, a storie of so sterne and tragick
qualitie, it illie suited my lighte' verse, in the earlier
workes.

It surely must proove that they are the work of my
hand when you, observing this varietie of forms, find out
th' Cyphar soe devis'd to ayde a decipherer in the study
of th' interiour historic. By the use of this Bi-literall
Cypha', or the highest degree of Cyphar writing, I may
give not meerely simple plain rules for such matters, but
also some hint that may bee of use, or an exa'ple.

It is fame that all seeke, and surelie so great renowne
can come in noe gthe' studie: if therefore you commence
th' study, the lawrell must at some future day be bestow'd
upon you, for your interesse must dayly grow and none
could winne you awaye.

On mee it doth impose a great labour, but the part you
shall doe shall be much lighter. It is many daies, (ay,
best part o' a yeare now) th' worke that is before you
hath beene in hand: noe wonder, then, that 'tis a weari-
som' taske and somewhat drie. It would weary the veriest
clod: whe', however, it shal be completed, my joy will
exceede th' past wearinesse.

Soone it can but be scene that I have undertaken great
labour in behalfe of men for the furder advancing of
knowledge, awaiting a time when it shall bee in everie
language as in our owne, but that this may be kept to
other ages we may use th' Latine, since our f eare is often
excited by th' want we note in this, th' English, of a degree

IN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 27

or measure of stability or of uniformity of its construc-
tion; and also many changes in usage shewe it is wise to
use for a monument, marble more lasting.

Still, so great is our love for our mother-tongue, wee
have at times made a free use, both of such words as are
consid'r'd antique, and of stile, theme, and innermost
spiritt of an earlier day, especially in th' Edmunde Spenser
poemes that are modelled on Chaucer; yet th' antique or
ancient is lightly woven, as you no doubte have before
this noted, not onlie with expressions that are both coinon
and unquestionablie English of our own daie, but fre-
quently with French wordes, for the Norman-French
William the Conqueror introduced left its traces.

Beside nought is furder from my thoughts then a wish
to lop this off, but, on the contrarie, a desire to graff more
thoroughly on our language, cutts that will make th' tree
more delightsome and its fruits more rare, hath oft led
me to doe the engraffing for my proper selfe.

Indeed not th' gemmes of their language alone, but the
Jewells of their crowne are rightfullie England, her in-
heritance.

Furthermore many words commonlie used in different
parts of England, strike th' eare of citizens of townes in
southerne England like a foreine tongue, combinations
whereof make all this varietie, that I finde ofttimes melo-
dious, againe lesse pleasing, like the commingling of coun 1
trey fruites at a market faire. Yet you, seing the reason,
approve, no doubte, th' efforts I make in the cause of all
students of a language and learning, that is yet in its boy-
hood, so to .speake.

The inwarde motive is noble, onlie as it cometh from a
pure love of the people, without a wrong or selfish thought

28 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

of my right to rule this kingdome as her supreme gov-
ernour: but this deathlesse, inalienable, roiall right doth
exist.

Queen Elizabeth, the late soveraigne, wedded, secretly,
th' Earle, my father, at th' Tower of London, and after-
wards at th' house of Lord P this ceremony was re-
peated, but not with any of the pompe and ceremonie that
sorteth wel with queenly espousals, yet with a sufficient
number of witnesses.

I, therfore, being the first borne sonne of this union
should sit upon the throne, ruling the people over whom
the Supreame Soveraigne doth shewe my right, as hath
beene said, whilst suff'ring others to keepe the royall
power.

A foxe, seen oft at our Court in th' forme and outward
appearance of a man named Robert Cecill the hunch-
back must answer at th' Divine Araignment to my
charge agains' him, for he despoyled me ruthlessly. Th'
Queene, my mother, might, in course of events which fol-
low'd their revelations regarding my birth and parentage,
without doubt having some naturall pride in her offspring,
often have shewne us no little attenntion had not the
crafty foxe aroused in that tiger-like spiritt th' jealousy
that did so tormente the Queene, [that] neyther night nor
day brought her respite from such suggestio's about my
hope that I might bea England's king.

He told her my endeavours were all for sov'raigntie and
honour, a perpetuall intending and constant hourlie prac-
tising some one thing urged or imposed, it should seeme,
by that absolute, inhere't, honorably deriv'd necessitie of
a conservation of roiall dignity.

IN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 29

He bade her observe the strength, breadth and com-
passe, at an early age, of th' intellectual powers I displaied,
and ev'n deprecated th' gen'rous disposition or graces of
speech which wonne me manie friends, implying that my
gifts would thus, no doubt, uproot her, because I would,
like Absalom, steale awaie th' people's harts and usurp the
throne whilst my mother was yet alive.

The terrors he conjur'd up could by no art be exorcis'd,
and many trialls came therefrom, not alone in youth, but
in my earlie manhoode.

Neyther one supposed th' horror each dreem'd of th'
last of the mindes waking notiones and th' one that, draw-
ing th' darke curtaines as night departed, had enter'd with
th' light each morning would take forme of th' other
offshoot, th' favourite heyre, Robert at th' time known
onelie by th' borowed cognomen of Devereux, Earl of
Essex: yet it indeed 'was hee, who, as though th' booke of
their suppositions or feares was to him the one that con-
tain'd easie lessons in treason, at last let loose th' dragon.

For a short space, this rebellion of th' Earl of Essex
hardly shewed as such, having beene by the counsel of his
friends, kept wisely backe when he purpos'd landing a
large bodie of souldiers at Milford Haven, expecting many
to joyn his forces as they mov'd on towards London, and
contenting th' proude soule, swelling to bursting in his
breast, by taking forth two-hundred of his choycest spirits
to give a show of greatnesse and aide him in th' secret
projects that hee was hatching.

His planne was nothing lesse than [a] mad designe
to take possession of th ' Court; his assistants, Davers,
Davis and Blount, being well known, might e'ter unchal-
lenged with a sufficient number of aydes that, scatter'd
about, should likewise cause no remarke; at th' given signe

30 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

they were to seize, without confusion, th' halberdes of the
guard, take stand, each in his previously assign'd place
one to holde the guard- chamber, one to possess himself of
the hall, and a third to keepe watch at the gate whilst
Essex should enter th' presence chamber and virtually get
possession of the Queene, under the pretense of complain-
ing that certaine of her advisers and informers were his
mortall enemies, and, maki'g bold to desire Her Ma.
should bring these men to triall, should promptly name
some who were neither wanting in good favor nor deficient
in courage to occupy the places so made vacant. Then
was Parliament to be call'd to make concessions, and the
citty itselfe to be under his controle.

.This planne knowne perfectlie to Southampton, the
chiefe of his frends, manifestely suited that aventurous
assistant well, but it failed in execution as we know.

The unwonted stir in all quarters, while Earle Kobert
had th' measure of liberty he enjoied, made Her Majesty
watchful; also the assembling from every county of Eng-
land of noteworthie men, nobilitie and militarie being
chiefely observ'd not, however, throngs but slowe gath-
erings as though one drewe afterwards another escapt
not her eie, whereuppn the guards at Court were made
aware o' danger and th' numbe' doubled. Report therof,
coming to the Earle of Essex, greatly excited his feares
least his plot had beene discovered, and hasten'd the end.

From th' first, my lord of Essex, whose whole thought
clung to his originall planne of seizing th' Tower, rely-
ing upon th' inspector of the ordinance who had vowed to
surrender the keyes, and afterward, from such point o'
vantage surprising and possesing th' cittie, attempted to
whine th' favour of the Protestants overtlie, and of his

IN ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 81

Jesuit acquaintances covertly, promising the latter, I am
trulie informed, that he would restore the Catholick faith,
and, as his innermost being was mightily sway'd by imag-
ination, I thinke he persuaded himselfe that hold on the
people was sufficient to carry out these simpler plots,
whilst hee doubted Her Majestie's graces would under-
mine a hope built on th' faith and affection of th' gentle-
men that were among his companie; therefore hee deter-
min'd that a surprise would be attended by too many
dangers, and trusting greatly to the love of th' citizens,
fell backe on their ayde. 'Twas th' Candlemas term ere
his plan was soe farre digested.

His liberty being little restrain'd he had ample and
constant meanes of carrying on his plans. As he was not
confin'd to his chambers at Court, it was necessary to send
for him when he should appear before the councill, but
when this was done my lord boldly refus'd to go, and
straightwaye disseminated a rumour that in going thither
in the evening he was set upon and nearly drowned by
Cobham, th' tool of Sir Walter Ealeigh, and Sir Walter
himselfe.

But unfortunatelie this tale was frequently varied by
th' Earle, and at one time hee did give out that four
Jesuits had made an attack f oure daies before, for the
same or similar purpose. This weaken'd his case so much
that but few came at his call when he went forth bidding
them arm and fight for their king.

In truth he saw not many people out, for Her Majesty
tooke the wise precaution to give order: "Arm and waite
in readinesse within for th' call."

32 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

But with him were now not lesse than fifteen score of
the principall gentlemen, a company well chosen, contain-
ing on th' part of th' nobility, Earls of Routland and of
Southampton, Lords Sandes, Mountegle, with others; be-
hind him he had left Earle of Worcester, Lord Keeper,
Lord Chief Justice, Her Majestie's Comptroller, and
beare' of th' Seal, who had come to meet Earle Robert,
themselves enduring imprisonment in his house, but
they remain'd not long in duresse.

Th' tour of th' citty being well nigh made, my lord's
party met Her Ma.'s troopes led forth by th' Admirall.
Blount was wounded, Tracy kill'd; then my lord return'd
to his owne house, and baricading the two great gates,
defended th' house on all sides, but it aval'd not long.
First hee begg'd for th' safe co'duct of th' Countesse, then

surrendered.

SIR F.

SHAKESPEARE QUARTO.

KING LEAR.

1608.

Xo one in whose spirit is no love of pow'r, will know th'
nature of th' flame i' my wilcle spirit. Th' death of recent
date, speaki'g in a comparative way, of my mother Queene
Elizabeth, should put me upon th' royal chayre of England,
because, borne 'in lawfull wedlocke, I am by th' rights of
birth, true sov'raigne.

I aske only justice, but Divine, ay, God-giv'n rig't.
Honor that had by precedent usage and by lawe long apper-
tayn'd unto the first borne sonne to the sovereigne, was
denied me in -the life-time and in direct pursuance and fulfil-
ment of the wishes of Her Majesty, my mother. Noe fame
could holde up brighte' temptation than this that hath most
oft beene refus'd power, and in tra'sf erring our scepter to
the King of Scotland, Her Majesty's intention and wish was
to put it where it could not be raught by anie outstretcht
arme.

Beating in my braine with this injustice, which the yeares
can have no soothing influence upon, there is a memorie of
that fate, by fnrre more sad, cruell, and unjust then this, met
by rash Robert.

It must be acknowledged that th' crime for which hee
sufer'd could not any wise be palliate by his past services or
bravery, but, had a signet-ring that hee did desire to present
reacht Elizabeth, Robert, th' sonne madly lov'd, might have
receiv'd a roiale remitment, inasmuch as it was her well-
known seal and token. This did faile, however, to act as
peace-maker as it came not, for good reason, to Her Majesty's

34 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

eyes. Dredf ul was her passion of anger and her bootlesse sor-
row of hart on finding that our proud hero had so stoopt, and
was not met. As hee had beene led to bel'eve he had but to
send the ring to her and th' same would at a mome't's
warni'g bring rescue or reliefe, he reived vainly, alas! on
this promis'd ayde.

A bitter griefe it was, not the lesse because he was farrc
dearer, as you know, tho' but a younger child, then one as
worthy her love who is th' heire.

Tt shal bee well depicted in a play and you wil be in-
structted to discypher it fully, as soone as suits with such
duty as e'grosseth you now. Keepe at the great Cipher

ev'n when th' plays bee ended.

SIR FRA. B.

KING HENRY THE FIFTH.
1608.

Stay in this work to get your first directe rule relating to
lines or verses which were much employ'd at the begiimiiii>-
as aydes in the work that had not advanced farre towards
co'pletio'. Vergill, with all of my most cherisht, or revered,
of poets, Homer, I have made to serve my designe as there
could hardly so much bee divided, mangled, cut, hewen or
lopt if noe penne save my unskilled quill for I was yet
youthfull prepar'd i'teriour material!.

This new contr'vance also lack'd some guide or hand in
order to shew th' way, meandering in tortuous farre-reach-
ing course, in all bookes that I designed, and at that time I
had great feare that no sharp eye would note aught th' key.
or such name-wordes, purport. How to disguise, but at th'
same instant give unmistakable, manifold instructio's was a
grave but very constant quaere with me that with manie

IN KING HENRY THE FIFTH. 35

excellent plannes and by diverse repeated lesser experiments
in time slowly brought the desir'd but dificile responde't
contrivance an inge'ious waie by Avhich lines and frag-
ments of scattYd storys are collected as in their original
forme.

Scholars of great note have this : When aniething new
hath bin shewn them, they recognise in it that which they
alreadie know, rathe' then they will discover that they know
not; ther'fore I have emploied these translations for the
benefit of such.

FRA'CIS FIRST OF ENGLAND.

PERICLES.
1609.

This is simply another portio' greatly occupying a plaie
too poor to work to our true or permanent renoune. In it
were these shames, (foul horrors we fain leave unfinisht
while fairer portions may be found) that are base as aught
th 7 rude countrey hindes bee suppos'd to thinke as fit for
creatures human as for any. As indeede this horror wee
give, merely doth repeat th' horror to be found, this is our
argumen 7 ; none will aske another, for a storie paining as 'tis
told hath beene a weary eno'gh relation without any uselesse
third and fourth time telling.

It may win true acclamations, real or just applause, or
greater blame ; which it may be is not knowne at present,
but wee, an historian, must needes write that which is true
if it bee good or nere so ill, and must hold a glasse up to
others that none may tainf with a slime like this th' fountayn
of his life.

36 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

But doe not forget to seeke for your Cipher poemes such
as th' two poemes of noble Homer, his most worthy verse,
and those great Virgill gave manki'de, also our Pastorale of
the Christ, with a fantasy, and sev'rall that have lesse im-
porte but are stil worthy, meth ought, to keep, for the excel-
lence sustayn'd through poems now used only in workes that
are written in Cypher shal aide one when these shall be
brought forth t' shew their authorship. But work must not
cease with poems herein nam'd, so much time hath beene
given to th' writing o' diverse plai's, nine o' which shall have
a time of dark dayes without a future, if such an eager seeker
be never scene as is visible to th' eye of our minde.

Howere, great is our co'fidence in some name as well
knowne to Him who governeth al as is our name, and it shall
be united to ours at last as qur writings shall be brought t'
th' light so that one may sec. Heede ! These are words of

FRANCIS BACON, KT.

HAMLET.
1611.

Our new play hath breasted th' wave so galantlie, so
brightly, a thrill runneth thorow minde, spirit, and heart,
and great joy beateth in artyries even as in our earliest
youth.

To man, his sight, forthwith, our secretes were submit-
ted, yet no eie but ours seeth our interior history hid not
lesse in workes such as th' one now in your emploie, then in
many much more worthie of note, through a timely atten-
tion to most of old Atlas, his cheefe slips, or errata. This
should not be understood to bee anie Atlas to whom in the
antient time was committed th' waight of our world, but

IN HAMLET. 37

one wee designate thus foolishly, since it doth entirely de-
pende on him to superintend his own worke of printing, the
correction of so much matter co'taini'g bi-form'd letters
havi'g bin all we could attempt. Some things in a follow-
ing editio' may be altered but wee depende on our decy-
ph'rer, as in recognition of the merits of our stage-plaies, at
some day, not verie long after our history hath bin decy-
ph'red, to collect these all into one tome.

It shall bee noted in truth that some greatly exceede their
fellowes in worth, and it is easily explained. Th' theame
varied, yet was al waves a subject well selected to convey the
secret message. Also the plays being given out as tho'gh
written by the actor to whom each had bin consign'd, turiie
one's genius suddainelie many times to suit th' new man.

In this actour that wee now emploie, is a wittie veyne
different from any formerly employ'd. In truth it suiteth
well with a native spirrit, humourous and grave by turnes in
ourselfe. Therefore when wee create a part that hath him
in minde, th' play is corresponsively better therefor. It
must bee evident to our friend and co-worker that these later
dramas are superior in nearlie all those scenes where our
genius hath swaie : these Cyphers do much limit th' expres-
sions of th' exteriour part and when narration predominates,
genius f eeleth the rein that doth governe th' movements and
th' course.

With feelings, reveries, and contemplation, it is quite dif-
ferent, and the interiour story aydeth in th' production of
these exteriour plays when they have sway.

FRANCIS BACON

(RIGHTFUL) R.

38 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

, TITUS ANDRONICUS.

1611.

Few thought an adoptive heire and suppos'd sonne to Sir
.Nicholas Bacon, wrote stage-plays and it was to make onely
our decypherer know of our new drama that we publish t
ought, without the so-call'd author's name upon the page.
But knowing also that truth crushed by its one strong
enemy, errour, commeth up in fresher vigour, whilst truth
in obscurity hidden, oft remai'eth long enwrapt from sight,
most playes wee had sent out before our new one, had the
stile or name of an actor he who wil put it foorth but
anon the one who bringeth it on our stage.

Rules for that other Cipher, of thing' found at the
present day best for interiour stage-plays, in some degree
like and rivaling th' diverse exteriour drapings, will bee
giv'n soone, as we wish th' storie in that way most ple'santlie
concealed, disciphered and made cleere to all upon the earth.
So great wrongs must bee sette right, here, else posterity
may not bee richer, as shall concerne knowledge of English
historic of our times, then most of this dull generation.

Very few know, to-day, th' injustice done us by the late
Queene of our most powerful! realme Elizabeth of Eng-
land for she was our owne royale mere, the lawfull wedded
wife to the Earle of Leister (Leicester, as oft it will be
found) who was our true sire, and we the heire to crowne and
throne ought to wield her scepter, but were barr'd the suc-
cession. We should, like other princes, the first that blest
that royale union, succeed the Queene-mother to soveraig'ty,
but punished through the rashnesse of our late artfull
brother this right shal bee denied us fore-ver.

IN TITUS ANDRONICUS. 3

We can win bayes, lawrell gyrlo'ds and renowme, and we
can raise a shining monumente which shall not suffer the
hardly wonne, supremest, crowning glory to fade. ]S;ere
shal the lofty and wide-reaching honor that such workes as
these bro't us bee lost whilst there may even a work bee
found to afforde opportunity to actors who may play those
powerful parts which are now soe greeted with great ac-
clayme to winne such name and honours as Wil Shake-
speare, o' th' Glob' so well did win, acting our dramas.

That honor mu?t to earth's finale morn yet folow him,
but al fame won from th' authorshippe (suppos'd) of our
plays must, in good time, after our owne worke, putting
awav its vavling disguises, standeth forth as you onlv know

i t. O /

it, bee veelded to us.

EDMUND SPENSER.

SHEPHEARDS CALENDER.
1611.

Two parts of my booke, which I set before my last
works, may be placed behind everie othe' as you arrange
the whole to decypher your instruction. I speake of Pros-
opo. and th' Faerie Qu. but the other parts must stand
thus, as here you finde them. Let all the remainder bee
work'd first, as they ayde in the writing of my brother's
history which was begunne in the second part, or book, that
doth commence one of my great workes of Scyence and,
continued in the little work stiled The Wisdome of the
Auncients, and taken up in this poeticall worke that is re-
published for this purpose, maketh a compleat abridge-
ment of the history given fully in the great Cypher.

As hath bin said, many importante papers having beene
destroyed by the Earle, many fe'tures of their plot were
never brought out, E. Essex himselfe saying, "They shall
be put where they cannot tell tales." But evidence was
sufficient to prove th' guilt both of my brother and Earl
of Southampton. Essex, his plea, that hee was not present
at the consultation that five treason-plotting noblemen
helde at Drury-house, ayded him not a whit, for his asso-
ciates incriminated him, and such of their writings as had
not beene destroyed were in the handwriting of my lord of
Essex, as was shewne at the triall, and they were acting as
hee directed.

How like some nightes horrible vision this triall and
awful torture before his execution must ever be to me,

IN SHEPHBARDS CALENDER. 41

none but the Judge that sitteth aloft can justlie knowe.
All the scenes come before me like the acted play, but how
to put it awaye, or drive it back to Avernus, its home, O,
who can divulge that greatest o' secrets? None.

This thought onely is fraught with a measureles pain,
that all my power can doe nought for his memorie. If hee
had but heard my advice, but he heeded his owne unrea-
soni'g wishes only. Whilst succeeding barely in this at-
tempt to so much as winne a hearing, yet did th' true
love I bore soe moove mee that, from my care o' Essex, I
tooke a charge that greatly imperil'd my personall preten-
sions, as I did occupy my utmost witt, and even aventure
my own fortunes with th' Queene, to attempte th' reinte-
gration of his.

This, however, though it had th' will to doe Essex great
benefitt, was truely little lesse harmful unto my lord Kob-
ert of Ewe, I may now admit, then to me. Queene Eliza-
beth, my mother, yeelded nought upon the questio', tho' 'tis
knowne commonly that persuasions swayed her often, even
when object seem'd as armed agaynst it. Yet this dispo-
sition was not paramount when I made my plea in behalf
of him, whom loving trust haplie kept in checke when a
word of dubitancie would pricke as with a spurre. Thus
the breach between my haplesse kinne widen'd and nothing
may close it, for a tombe doth silence both.

Vantages acompted great, simply as th' uncertaine
dreames or visiones of night seeme to us in after time.
Ended now is my great desire to sit in British throne.
Larger worke doth invite my hand then majestie doth offer:
to wield th' penne doth ever require a greater minde then
to sway the royall scepter. Ay, I cry to th' Heavenly
Ayde, ruling ore all, ever to keepe my soule thus humbled
aiid contente.

42 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

O Source infinite of light, ere Time in existence was.
save in Thy creative plan, all this tragedy unfolded before
Thee. A night of Stygian darknesse encloseth us. My
hope, bannish'd to realmes above, taketh its flight through
th' clear aire of the Scyences, unto bright daye with Thy-
selfe. As Thou didst conceale Thy lawes in thick clouds,
enfolde them in shades of mysterious gloom, Thou didst
infuse from Thy spirit a desire to put the day's glad worke,
th' evening's thought, and midnight's meditation to finde
out their secret workings.

Only thtis can I banish from my thoughts my beloved
brother's untimely cutting off, and my wrongfull part in
his tryall. O, had I then one thought of th' great change
his death would cause, how life's worth would shrinke,
and this world's litle golden sunshine be but as collied
night's swifte lightning, this had never come as a hound
of th' hunt to my idle thoughts.

As it is now, the true meaning of events is loste to me.
The heavens declare God's glory, but Scripture doth speak
nowhere of His will being thus declared. In order to
undertake this, our mindes must bee inclin'd to His in-
struc'ion.

This abridgement is now ended. By the ayde of the
notes given, work out this history, for if this be lost my
history will also bee unfmisht, so close my path lay by his.
This you duelie have noted.

Besides our secret storie no correcte one shall be left,,
as Her Ma., takeing a liking, early, of my writings upon a
part of late negotiations, required a species of justification
o' th' course, (which none surely shew'd) carried it indeed
so as in man, his sight, Robert is helde abhorr'd; but I th r
clerk, did the writing, or acted as Secretary, th j report fully
satiating everyone.

IN FAERIE QUEENE. 43

FAERIE QUEENE.
1613.

Some want-wit, may be, desiring note, if it uproot all
love's fibres, would have welcom'd such a taske; so truly,
did not I, for to me it grew to be more indirect, less honor-
able, so to put forward my dear lord, his misdeedes, at
Queene E 's beheast though I did it but at her expres
commands, and always as a Secretary to Her Majesty.
Verilie scarce a worde remained unaltered. The language,
even, was not wholly such as I wish'd to use, as all was
subjected to her painefully searching scrutiny, and manie
a sentence did her weake fear, her dread of execratio', make
her weigh and alter whilst her jealousie cull'd out my every
name of th' noblemen who were charged with a lack o'
loyalty, and th' stile that I emploied when I said ought
concerning Robert. For my honorable and just stile of
Earl of Essex and of Ewe, as "my lord of Essex" and "my
lord Robt.", on many a page similar names and
tearmes, Her Ma. would suggest that it be meerly plaine
Essex, or in place of that "th' late Earle of Essex." It
approov'd itself to her in such degre, that my first bookes
were suddainely and peremptorylie supprest and (and)
printed according to commande, de novo, thereby only th'
sure proofe giving of a judgement sharp on his lordshipp's
illes, but subtile concearning her owne; and assuredly th'
world may see that though she might be excelent in great
matters she was exquisite i' the lesser.

So much did some earlie worke on this noblest among
noble youthes, our brothe' Robt. annoy th' Queene, we
manifested a willingnesse to suppresse it, and because of
soe doing were at some losse.to continue our work. To

44 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

this secret device, or invention, the world doth owe most
gracious thanks for a ]arge part of his historic.

To Sir Clyomen and S. Clamydes, you must conjoyne
Orlando Furioso, and Alphonsu' King of Arragon, then
Descensus A , Order of the Garter, The Battayle of Alca-
zar; add next David and Bathseba, and Edward. For this
earlie work nothing from othe' parts neede be taken, as we
made an attempt about that time to put th' work into lesse
space, in order to make your task of writing th' secret
history easy, feari'g my labours' losse if broadly scattered,
as it was of a character more worth to me then to my
times, and not of a secret nature after page three, or at
most two o' th' first leav's, regarding Robert's true name,
and certaine matters relative to his adoption into the kind
family whose name that by which all England knew him,
excepting th' principall actors that played well their parts
i' th' drama noe staine had touched untill this blot of
treason fell on it.

He was one of the adventurous, valiant, bolde spirits
not easilie hidden in any place, and it was not, therfore,
unseemly that the sonne of one so widely and favourably
reputed as th' first Earl of Essex, made so bolde [as] to
wooe th' goddesse Fortune at Court. J^one knewe so trulie
as Elizabeth, our proude unbending, roial mere, the cause
of manie of our willfull Essex' orebearing ways.

Th' knowledge that he was princely in truth, despite
pretense, and, whilst at Court his nominall place and
standi'g was onelie th' Courtier's, his rightful stile was
Prince, th' Queene's lawful sonne, warm'd into life and
action the ambitions that were his inherited, primal in-
stinct.

How far he ventured upon this royall prerogative, this

IN FAERIE QUEENE. 45

propper right of favour and advancement, historic plainlie
relateth, yet onelie in our Cipher-historic may scales be
oped that guarde the secrets hid long in silente halles: for
'tis said, walles have ears, none saye walles have a tongue,
trulie, none who doe visit Courts. Daring, indeed, the
pen that can write a royal story, tho' it be in Cyphe',
many times as daring he that doth this task openlie. There
bee fewe who will attempt it, and it shal not be by their
pens we shal finde out the result dead men tel no tales.

It is clear to my minde, the Earle, our father, hoped
that his darling wishes relating to a declared heir to suc-
ceede to the throne, were neare realization, as hee observed
the advance in marked respect or favour th' younger sonne
made from day to daie. Our vayne mother lov'd his bolde
manner and free spirit, his sodaine quarrells, jealousy in
soule o' honour, strength in love. She saw in him her-
owne spirit in masculine moulde, full of youth and beauty.
To her, fate, a turn of Fortune's wheel, had given th'
gift of royal tie, and th' throne of mighty England was hers;
to beestow on whom her heart mought choose. Little won-
der that false fancy sway'd where better judgement, in-
fected, had loste power, and that impatient Lo. L won
nought in that struggle but feare and distresse. My just
claime he set aside liking better their valiant lion-heart
thus they teann'd him howsoever unmeete, or unjust.

A desire t' foyl yeeldes luride light on everything ther-
after: his one wish ever gleaming brightlie through the
clouds of pretense, and I receive my Qu from that alter'd
appearance of th' skies, yet doe not trulie give over, as he
doth suppose. "Not withstanding overtly any of my ill-
advised sire's aspiring purposes, or planns, for often shall
dissimulation, though a faint kind of wisdome prove verie

46 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

good policie, yet, in th' secrecy o' my owne bosome, I do
still hold to th' faith that my heart has never wholly sur-
rendered, that truth shall come out from error and my
head be crowned ere my line o' life be sev'red.

How many times this bright dreeme hath found lodge-
ment in my braine ! how manie more hath it beene shunn'd
as an influence of Pluto's darke realme! It were impos-
sible, I am assur'd, since witnesses to th' marriage and to
my birth (after a proper length of time) are dead, and the
papers certifying their preasence being destroyed, yet is it
a wrong that will rise, and a crye that none can hush.
Strive as I may, it is onely driv'n from my braine by th'
unceasing tossing of this sea of laboring cogitations for th'
advancement of learning. Ofte driven as 'twere with
sodaine wind or tide, its waves strike 'gainst the very vault
of th' heav'ns and breake in uselesse wreaths o' bubbling
froth.

Think not in your inmost heart that you or any others
whom you would put in the same case'as ours, would mani-
fest a wiser or calmer minde, because none who doe not
stand, as I stood, on Pisgah's very height, do dream of the
faire beautie of that land that I have seene. England as
she might bee if wisely govern'd, is th' dream or beautious
vision I see from Mt. Pisgah's loftie toppe.

It is noe improper exaltation of self e, when one, feeling
in heart and brayne the divine giftes that fit him for his
Princely destiny or that rightly inherited albeit wronglie
withholden soveraignty in true, noble, kingly spirit doth
looke for pow'r, not for th' sake of exercising that gift, but
that he may uplifte his people from th' depth of misery
into which they constantlie sink, to th' firm rocke of such
mode of life as would change cries to songs of praise.

IN FAERIE QUEENE. 47

You will, ere your work be compleated, see either in
my word method of imparting these inner epistles, or writ
soe plaine that none shall fayl to comprehende a form or
designe of a modell land, as anie might be with propper
governours; but you must tarrie for it a space, inasmuch
as it existeth, as yet, but in my thought.

However I say not, wait idly till we carrie this to its
full perfection, since a great part remaineth now to work
out from these various Cyphers that I here use, and, friend,
to cease labour now would truly be to lose that history that
I have desired above every other work to write, that a com-
ing people in th' future, having read the false declaratio's
made in writings given then, blinding eyes to deepe, justlie
censured wrongs, might understand motives of action as
well as the true historic of events.

And you will soone observe that I have told my owne
sad story with the same openheartednesse as that which
revealeth other secrets for my verie soule is open'd that th'
world might looke on it and reade of my hard lot, having
to choose between life, libertie of the citty, freedom, and
a promise of future recognizance of service, and th' same
for my dear Robert.

Eeasoning that no pow'r should prevaile with her Ma-
jestie, I felt how ill-advis'd a sacrifice o' life and its
enchantments must be, that surely would be of no efect. %
I have spirit of sufficient fire, I thinke, for such hap as is
probable to my station, not enough to support me in tor-
ture, nor to lead forth anie enfans perdus. Seeing th'
hopeless state treason-loving Essex was in, I knew I had
but to continue my plea, urging that forgivenes might bee
accorded to Essex, to close th' last egresse from a cell, or
lead to th' gallowes. Thus was my way hedged about,
thick clouds hid th' path from sight.

48 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

In the last stanzo is a directio' to th' next following
works to co'tinu the storie thus begun. It must be writte'
before any othe' for 'tis most co'plete, and interio' writings,
while pleasing when discypher'd, are somewhat wearying.

As work of anie kind was meant by Him that impos'd
the curse on sinfull man to be ad correctionem et non ad
ruinam, it will benefit us both. A meete punishment,
trulie, and one that shall in turne make the very curse
bless'd, and everie man most envyde who can say as doth
your attentive friend : This hand will accompli'h a worthie
labour for future use, which shal bee the monument where
th' whole of these studies are shewn forth and deficiencies
enumerated. Since it doth more ayde mankind to point
out what is lacking then to prepare all your woorke so that
nothing shall longer remaine to bee found out, for it is
man's delight to find out mysteries, but th' glory of God to
conceale some matters, with a preside't of highest, ineas-
urelesse, supreme wisdome, is a divine modell for man to
followe. Nor do we find that Holie Scripture hath any
prohibition against an acquisition of knowledge intended
only for th' world's betterment. He who is not against us
it is noe lesse true to-day then it was sixteene centuries
ago, so that I say, nor shall it aske anie further explanation,
noe man's hand is better employ'd then his who searcheth
^out a hidden matter.

If you continue this worke to the end you shall have
reward sufficient I think to advantage you as well as ad-
vaunce my invention, and make knowne my historic for
th' better satisfaction of those who see deeps in Engla'd's
historic that have th' blood of her sonnes therein.

A Queene's edict, if not her yron hand, killed such a
man that for valour and manly spirit was unequal'd.

FR. BACON.

BEN JONSON".

1616 FOLIO.
ENTERTAYNMENT.

Keepe many keies and joyning wordes in minde, that
are now employ'd in my Homer, for your writing will pro-
ceed faster if you have many well memorized when you
decypher this work. Allthough th' parts are small, and a
great manie workes containe the scatter'd portions, it hath
th' joy and somewhat th' excitement of sport even that
of th' chase in pursuite, therefore doe not fall out by th'
waye nor allow anie to passe by you, as it doth surely ope
to you a path as wondrous as anie that doth winde through
th' fields of knowledge, to that divine hight, in view long
ere th' feete may attayn unto it, upon Olympus' toppe.

Oft doe I muse upon th' ultimity of this Ciphe', and aske
whose hand may compleate it. It may be that of some
man whom dayly I have seene going to and fro in th'
martes and halls of th' Citty. It may, perchance, be some
sharpe spye of th' court whose zeale would be my death.
But my hope is, that not th' yeares but th' ages shall
unf olde my secret historic, and reverse a decision that hath
beene given respecting th' Queene, my mothe', my owne
birth-right, and many othe' things of interesse, but of ev'n
so small valew as that, did they rather concearn th' com-
monalty then royal persons, they might not bee read.
However, admiration of greatnesse is naturall. Ev'n the
foibles of a Queene would please at so remote a day.

BACON.

50 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

KINGS CORONATION.

This work is also Bacon's, intended meerelie to ayde in
producing some parts of the translations. Some have beene
found repeated too often, yet as the partes should not bee
lost, this Entertaynment was devis'd that all should appear
in convenient order. Bee not too hasty in condemni'g
this meanes unto my end, for manie were th' devices, much
th' patience, and long th' houres giv'n to the work, so that
very little might bee left unfinish't should my summons
come unexpectedly at midnight, at noon, or at morning.
It was done with an eie single to your best good. Here is
no strife after excellence of stile and diction, but an effort
in your owne interesse.

You should joyne to this Entertaynment, A Panegyre,
and all the following Entertaynments in their natural!
order. B.

A PANEGYRE.

There is more Virgil here, but a part is Homer. Marke
keyes.

BACON.
MASQUES.

In Essay Of Masques and Tryumphs you may see this
much esteemed device mention'd. In my plays matters
are chosen not alone* for value as a subject to heare and no
longer heed. Each play is the meane, or th' medium, by
which cipher histories are sent forth. Thus all will, at th'
least, serve a twofold purpose, and in Homer's two mightie
workes (as in Yirgill's) a trebble, for we treated all transla-
tions in th' first of our cipher work in a manner very like

IN MASQUES. 51

that we followed in concealing our secret historic, but you
can see easily that th' former are separated into a greater
number of parts. This was necessarie because o' th' stories
told in them, that could not be used in large portio's, in
Cypher writing. Ne'erthelesse they serv'd well their pur-
pose, which was to emploie this method of transmitting,

as it is my invention, possessing th' nature of simple ques-
tioning and experiment, and to preserve my works.

I wish'd to have th' translations kept untill a future
race of men, or at th' least scholars of our owne day rathe'
then th' commoners, have mark'd, in my open workes under
different names, a certaine stile that shall prove their origin
to be th' same, because it will bee impossible to deoypher
them fullie untill all th' works shall be conjoyn'd. When
this is done and all th' keyes to put th' parts together have
beene found, seeke th' arguments which are given in th'
Bi-literall Cypher, and th' most of your difficultie shal bee
overcome.

Do not turne backe untill all th' secret histories shall
have been written, for you can find the true records no
where else. From portio's o' my Cypher, secrets which the
Queene suspected some one would attempt to publish, may
bee work'd out with a measure of skill, patient labour and
perseverance. Those who shall turn back meerely to avoid
difficulties, should ever look to have none of the prizes of
life. Th' Holy Scripture saith : Whoever putteth his hand
upon th' plough and looketh backe is -not fit for th' heav-
enly kingdome; nor is he that turneth backe from this
work fit for th' kingdome of knowledge.

Th' work you here note, i. e., th' Masques, must bee
employ'd in writing whole portiones of th' Iliads that were
difficult to adapt to moderne poetry or to stage plays. This

52 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

you will, I doubt not, see ere this, but least it escape your
attention I have mention'd it in this place and in other
parts of th' work. If iterant rules should weary you
beyond endurance, pray remember this: the work is as a
circle with no apparent beginning: those parts written first
may bee last found, therefore I repeat all these directions,
and, too, I would fain make easier th' heavy taske impos'd
on you, and my greatest labour hath been to but one end
that of so ayding your part of th' work as should assure its
successe. If once well understood th' chief requiring can
bee quickly seen to bee perseverance. Of this I have not
lesse neede myselfe then my decypherer, as this must be
done carefuly, and all hath beene at least twice written,
as my cypher work or th' interior letters must have cov'ring.
Th' exterior part is so varied, so diverse in both matter and
methods of treatment, that it serveth my purpose well, con-
cealing a great work yet also revealing th' keyes design'd
to open th' secret portalls. And although th' waye may
sometimes seem like an endlesse labyrinth, you cannot f aile
to thrid it if you heede my rules.

You will finde as you progresse that I have made your
tasks more pleasing then at first, and remember, pray, that
your owne natae is, or must yet be, inseparably joyn'd with
mine: therefore, if honour cometh to me by my wise use o'
th' heav'n sent talents emploied in this invention, you must
share in th' renowne. It is to none other I may looke for
ayde to bring my work forth to men's sight. Your hand
may roll the stone away from the door of the sepulcher and
set this Cipher free. It is not dead it sleepeth, not for
four short dayes like Lazarus of old, but doubtlessly for
yeares, perhaps for centuries. Is it not then an act deserv-
ing world-wide fame? Trust mee it shall not faile, but in

IN MASQUES. 53

every land in which the English language hath a place,
shall it be known and honour'd.

As hath already been said Homer (Iliads and a great
part of the Odysses) and Virgil (^Eneid and some of the
^Eglogues) were helpfull to me when this invention, of
which I am now giving the historic, was at first emploied.
Finding that this might be follow'd with ease in my his-
toric by a key that I us'd, I then follow'd a similar plan
respecting the whole, separating it into parts and using
these fragments after th' same manner in all the workes
that I publish'd in my owne (so call'd) name, or that of
others. Spenser, Greene, Peele, Marlowe have sold me
theirs, two or three others I have assum'd upon certaine
occasions such as this, beside th' one I beafe among men.

My owne should be like that of my mother Tidder,
since I am sonne to th' Queene who came of that line, and
as her eldest born, should now sit in her throne in place
of him whom she made her heire, according to Cecill's
report; but as I am known among English speaking peo-
ples by the name you (untill now) thought to be rightfully
mine, i. e., th' name of my foster parents Bacon, it is
honourable and honored, yet have I vowed to make
worthier, greater, and more renowned either stile, then it
hath beene since it was first bestowed.

The voyce of Fame should be as lowd as thunder, when
she doth speake of me in comming years, for all my labour,
looking toward the future, would bring our harvest-time
when our dayes are not upon the sphere wee now inhabit.
Shall not my work endure while Homer's doth, since from
it I have form'd here a beauteous casket, well-wrought,
curiously joyn'd, with Jewells richly set, for his pricelesse
gift, no other having such beauty and worth? Even as

54 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Alexander when he was given that rich and costly casket
o' King Darius, commanded that it bee reserv'd to hold
Homer, his two bookes the Illiads and the Odysses,
since he could think of nothing more precious. This storie
furnisht me a pretext and suggested the plann which I
forthwith carried to perfection, and as I have said, it so
well serv'd the purposes of the great Ciphe' which I have
been teaching you that I have never regretted the experi-
ment.

When th' Masques in my friend Ben Jonson's name
with Part o' th' King's Coronall Entertaynment have
been entir'ly decipher'd, take Greene's and Peele's workes
in th' order giv'n in th' Faerie Queene. My plaies are
not yet finishf, but I intend to put forth severall soone.
However, bi-literall work requiring so much time, it will
readily be seene that there is much to doe after a booke
doth seeme to bee ready for the presse, and I could not
well saye when other plays will come out. The next volume
will be under W. Shakespeare's name. As some which
have now beene produced have borne upon the title page
his name though all are my owne work, I have allow'd it
to stand on manie others which I myselfe regard as equall
in merite. When I have assum'd men's names, th' next
step is to create for each a stile naturall to th' man that
yet should [let] my owne bee seene, as a thrid o' warpe in
my entire f abricke soe that it may be all mine.

"End" may seem to jny decyph'rer as if it should bee

al, yet is bv noe means imall.

F. BACON.

IN SEJANUS.

SEJANUS.

Question, or some other form or manner of inquiry,
and answer are your word-signs by which you may worke
out my secret story herein co'cealed. This story concerns
some of the chief personages of th' realme, first of all,
our late despised parent, th' cause and th' renewer o' th'
ills that we endured. My sole object doth appeare in this
later work the play of Sejanus.

None know half so well as I, th' underplay carried
along in court in order t' secure my withdrawall from an
unexampled field, wherein a mother strove against a sonne
whose right to the succession to th' throne she did ignore
and co'stantly avoid. Her unbending sterne temper,
strong in death, set the seal upon my future as on my
past life, since her will was th' law governing both. My
owne spirit alone doth atteste how potent for good or for
ill the dicta of such a woman may bee.

Here alone is that long epistle to my to-bee decipherer
that must be most observed in this worke. Seeke it out.
Take my keies and unlocke my inner chamber. There
will my hidden secrets be revealed fully, that he that shal
willinglie lift the heavy vaile, should now ope th' treasure-
casket which contains th' story of my life, as well as my
late brother, his death. It is ev'n with wrought-ores
thickly covered : gems rare and costive shine upon its sides :
in the small room within you will find uncounted treasure,
riches beyond your dreames of earthlie acquisition. The
whole shall be the reward of my decypherer and will repay
most generouslie his entire devotion to this labour.

56 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

As I have said, our newe designe shall give much pleas-
ure, while it so amplie rewardeth the true worker. Seeking
after any learning is a pleasure; seeking after what is hid-
den, a delight, none soe pure forever springing up in
fresh joy, as th' water of a meadowe spring gusheth forth
to th' light.

My next work is not begun here: much of it shall bee
found in th' playes o' Shakespeare which have not yet
come out. We having put forth a numbe' of plays i' his
theatre, shall continue soe doing since we doe make him
th' thrall to our will. Our name never accompanieth anie
play, but it frequently appeareth plainly in Cypher for
witty minds to transla'e from Latine and Greeke. As this
is never seen, the secret still remained inside its treasure-
house unsought of every one. This is yet hidden as in dim
shadowy mists, but soone shall you have the whole of th'
most worthy parts of this great cypher-writing, wrought

much more finely then gold.

FRANCIS BACON.

NOTE The preceding five divisions were written by Bacon.
Jonson was the author of the remaining works in the 1616 folio,
but Bacon's Bi-literal Cipher Story was infolded in the Italic
printing, as explained in what follows.

IN COMMENDATORY POEMS. 57

COMMENDATORY POEMS.

Beade some plaies by our Ben's active hand. Whe'
more of our stories, which had truly fill'd all of our chief e
plaies, sought more room, it was almost more then penne of
one man could do to prepare such bookes, much less write
them also. Soone he, publishing this famous work, afforded
us this waie by which th' Bi-litterate may lead all our deci-
ph'rers from bookes manie a suspecting enimie may possiblie
too much note. Seeke not our chiefe of Cyphers th'
Cypher unfolded by this nowe in use untill you have found
our play of Sejanus, for it is that stage-play, one of earlie
date, that containeth much of that translated poeme wee
nam'd as having great value. It is spoken of more than once,
that it be well imprest on the minde, (storie, or a play of an
early day having no charme for some readers,) insoemuch as
it seem'd a work not unworthy to be preserved. See that
you give most careful 1 heede to our num'rous words, oft
occuri'g to give our patie't friend ayde, and let passe nothi'g
without observing all worthy instructions. Our progresse
is along a devious waye, and by divers quaint devices hath a
wondrous storie the storie ere this time familiar to you as
one o' th ? nurserie tales wee heard in our childhood beene
related. It is the storie of our owne birth and parentage,
which must be given to other ages.

FR. FIRST of ENGLAND.

Puny little mindes, th' type most familiar to us, take
much delight in talke. Th' surer methode to secure atten-
tive ears is to put his writen works in such a peculiar, or
secret form, that it wakeneth th' curious to seeke the'

58 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

wherever they should have beene hidden. Whilst I do not
i'tend to put my Heaven-bestow' d powers on this plane, 'tis
true that I have noething in coinon Avith vulgar mindes, that
[it] is our wish to have our words heard, nor should it bee
tho't vanitie since it is not alone that I wish fame amongst
humankind, in such thinges. I desire that the time to come
should correct the errors of the unfortunate present, but
more I doe not hope to winne. It is to you I trust.

Y'r Serva't

FR. BACON.

THE FOX.
(BEN JONSON'S CIPHER LETTER.)

Few eyes, unassisted, will take proper note of a Cipher in
my dedicatory prsef atio, intended onely to make more room
well adapted to guard thinges secret, whether my mater or
not. My wrongs, besides, may not ]ook to distant dayes, nor
to a land in mid-sea if th' Atlantis be fo'nd for redresse;,
a just sentence from our owne countrey, its scholars, is my
great desire.

But my friend, by whose constantly urged request I use
so secret a way of addressing the decypherer to aid him in a
difficult task, trusteth all to the future, and a land that is
very far towards th' sunset gate. To speake more clearly,
I write to ayde my friend with whom I, having, in truth, his
fame in heart as much as my honour and dignitie, often
counselled much, but could devise no way by which hee
should winne his throne and scepter.

It shall bee noted, indeed, when you uncover his stile, my
works do not all come from mine owne penne, for I shall
name to you some plays that came forth fro' Sir F. Bacon,
his worthy hand, or head, I bein' but the masque behind

IN THE FOX. 59

which he was surely hid. Th' play entitled Sejanus was his
drama, and th' King's, Queene's, Prince's Entertainments;
the Queene's Masques are his, as also th' short Panegyre.
Heerein you see the names hee used to pointe the way to the
various workes, but I use no signes to bring them more into
notice.

When you looke cursorilie over our part of th' volume,
you will not let his names escape your eye, but will seeke
such plays hoping to finde the Cypher. Barnes like these
have this use. Fame or Glorie, Reputation, Fortune, Na-
ture, Arte, Time, Truth and Honour, when scatter'd in any
of our workes say to you, "Look for things hid from most
eyes," for wee thus ayded in his Cypher worke. ^

YVrs most dutifully,

BEN JONSON. ,

This plaie was borowed. I could work to turne seekers r
after matters which were hidden, into my othe' fieldes and
thus cause them to loose the s'ent. Th' instructions I have
so freely strewn throughout my work must give my ready
decypherer sufficient ayde, as I doubt not his eie hath, ere
his lesson could be learned, caught such signes as were
named by my friend, Ben Jonson, in his dedication of th'
work, and hath well guess'd a purpose therby. It is that I
may write out my sad secret, and give a compleat history of
our owne land in the life and raigne of my mother, the so-
calPd Mayden Queene; with that of my father, th' Earle o r
Leicester; my brother, th' Earle o' Essex; and diverse por-
tions of my owne story that are important as parts of this
secret storie. This must not be lightly pass'd, since you
wish t' get a true recitall of most deepe and dangerous mat-
ter, told as you could not finde it elsewhere.

60 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

It were a man both bolde and foolhardy that should
write, or publish, in his time such dangerous truth, yet, thus
disgui'd, it requireth lesse boldnesse and more perseverance;
for I grant it seemeth most wearisome worke in cyphering as
in discyphering, yea tedious, but necessarie, during mine
early youth and manhood, to protecte my (v) life from a
thousand threatning calamities, as no doubt you know, hav-
ing followed our mazie Cypher. Surely, if it were other-
wise, I should be working to noe end or purpose. These are
lost labours if my histories be not found.

This containes th' abridgement and a number of keyes
of one part o' that history o' Robert Dudley, my father, not
included in the play spoken of in diverse othe' letters. His
character was not understood by those with whom his lot
was caste, for hee had more than one closely guarded secret
as shall bee scene in time. His true motif in many subse-
quent acts, may be found in th' premises unknowne to th'
writers of our day.

It is, I doubt not, well remembred that hee suffer'd im-
prisonment because he was in a measure concern'd in the
attempt to enthrone Lady J arie Grey ; yet, being at length
releas'd, his sun of prosperity rose high, for his union with
Elizabeth, afterward queene, made him first in this king-
dome, next to this royal spouse. But not being acknowl-
edg'd such, publicklie, nor sharing in her honours, my poor
father was but a cypher, albeit standing where he should
multiplie th' valew of that one.

A suspicion was generall that th' death that overtooke his
sweet wife could be laid to his charge. Aye, a treacherous
stairwaye betraid her step, falling beneath lightsome Amy's
foot, cast her violently on the paling belowe, and the tidings
of her demise was not altogether newes to one whose minde

IN THE FOX. 61

was too eager to heare it. To divert curious questioning
from the royall union, many shiftes and turnings were a
necessity.

For th' space o' nineteene or twentie yeares, my father,
gay court-idole as he was, guarded his secret and bask'd in
the sunshine of royall favour. By degrees he was giv'n title
and stile suiting soe vayne a minde better then would the
weight of governement, were that conferr'd on him. Hee
was first made Master of th' Horse; this gave him controule
of th' stables, and gave him such place in th' royall proces-
sions as he very truly desired, next Her Majestic; also, she
conferr'd upon him the Order of the Garter, and diverse
other markes of favour, whilst to beare out their stage-play
untill their parts should be done, Her Majesty, most like
some loud player, proclaim'd Baron Dudley, Earle of
Leicester, suitor to Mary Queene of Scots, and at all *ad-
monitory protests which the haried husband uttered, this
waieward Queene went on more recklesslie.

Therefore we must marvell to see him later claime ad-
vantage of Her Majestie's bold moode to take another part-
ner to his bosome, rightly divining that she would not shewe
cause why such an union could not be fitly consider'd or con-
sumated, but venturing not upon full confession thereof.
However, Her Ma. dwelt not for long in ignoble inactio'
the force that she gave to her angry denunciation affrighting
th' wits of this poor earle, untill he was againe turning over
expedientes to rid her of this rivall. Suspicion againe fel on
the misguided man, of seeking to murther th' partner of his
joyes, but Heaven brought his owne doome suddenly upon
him. So doth this act end.

*Silent "Woman.

62 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

My mother was nearlie distracted with griefe, remorse,
and despaire for a space. Upon my brother, his returne, to
take the favorite's place, she bent on Essex th' fonder love of
her heart and gave much gracious attention to his honor and
th' furtherance of her designes regarding him. Indeed,
much harm was wrought to others then themselves, for great
the court scandall regarding love messages betwixt them, as
though they had bin mindfull onely o' pleasure, so that th'
lords of her councill wink'd visiblie at it, least it enter at
their eies; for 'twas dangerous for anie onlookers if the eye-
sight were keene and saw behind those masques.

'" Th' men, to-day are too nigh for good sight, but my faith
was formally pledg'd to write it as I believ'd it, I may say,
knew it, not blenching nor omitting th' sinne of either. As
hath beene said, my lord of Essex presum'd too much upo'
secret liking, and in a short time found himselfe lesse hon-
or'd then crost or chided. Should we, therfore, marvell to
see him haughtie and overbearing when chaft, geniall and
gen'rous when smooth'd? nor so much as doubt this swift
change upp and down of his fortune had much effect upon
his spirit? and imagining that his footing were secure, fell
from safetie into great danger as th' astronomer who was
gazing on th' heaven to study the stars, fell into the water?

But his historic is contained in various other workes, nor
doth my deciph'rer neede furder ayde then hath beene thus
provided, to inable him to write, by meanes of my other
great Cypher. Take courage, I pray thee, and continue my
prolong'd writings that my Cypher relating most important
thinges shall come t' th' birth, for it can avayle us nought
while lying conceal'd. But to go on.

*The Alchemist.

IN THE FOX. 63

Her Majestie soone had matters of great importe to con-
sider. Events crowded verie close upon the preceding, and
whilst a lion watcht in strong holds, foxes spoil'd the grapes,
as in former ^Eons, according to tradition.

Th' Armado had come and gone, dispers'd partly
through th' readie action of England's seamen, partlie
through th' tempest o' th' flood, but Catholick Spayne
needed still a warines, subtle, sleeplesse. Many o' th' olde
faith, as it was then stil'd, remayn'd in different portions
o' th' countrie; these, yet smarting under th' blowe to th'
hope of restoring th' Church o' Rome to supremacy that
th' execution o' Mary of Scots gave them, were not at heart
'good subjects, but th' spirit and daring that Elizabeth
shewed, had effect.

With her oreweening passion of vanitie, was mingled a
stro'g hatred of warre, and wish to outcraft th' enemies
of a roial government whose head was a woman, or in
common speech, not of the ablest sexe. Events duelie
sanction'd a claime to th' heart of Henry, her grandsire;
for Henry, the Tudor who most upheld th' glory o' that
line o' kings of which hee was first, was a mirrour to my
mother in divers things.

This history is contained in some stage plays that came
out in Shakespeare's name. Ere long there will be many
of like stile, purpose and scope added thereto, which shall
both ayd and instruct you in th' work. This should make
it cleare, e. g. *sixty stage-plays which, in varyi'g stiles that
are contrary to my owne well known stile of expression,
whylst for more of our lighter work, an impenetrable mask,
for a history, much too varied; hence these great plays
have bin devis'd which, being similar, often held this inne'
history therein unsuspected. This wo'drously co'ceal'd

"Catiline.

64 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

9
story, ther'fore, sheweth how history repeateth itselfe, and

simplie shifting the scenes doth bring in new actors to take
th' same parts ; soe, where the names only being altered caus-
eth somewhat of doubt within you, paie no heed to counsels
of such sorte, for it shall soone be made manifest that this
is th' universall, unalterable, and undeviating lawe, and
all must yielde to its governement. All are borne arfd all
die; though each must play many parts, he findeth noe
part that is his alone. In wise Salomon his words:
"There's nothing new 'neath the sunne." Many have, it
may be, acted this part my proud mother play'd fewe so
successfullie.

Goe to Jonson, his spicy poenies, cal'd Epigrammes that
folow where, perhaps ""seeing herein th' sev'rall keies or
guide-words you wil thinke these my worke, but as my
friend said in his most pleasing epistle, when they come
here, my decypherer will knowe that he should expect
many key-words and should go from this final work [to one]
entituled by him Every Man out of His Humour. Passe
to Cynthia's Re veils and th' Poetaster. The first shall
bee last, as you have seene ere now when studying th' Holy
Scripture.

Your keyes are : Earle, Lord, Leicester, Ayme Robsart,
tyne, report, marrie, othe, priest, Elizabeth, May den Prin-
cesse, Virgin Queene, hatred, remorse, death, falling,
treachery, art, amazement, court, feare, train, artfull,
shame, jalousie, anger, triall, suspition, favorit, Mary, Scot-
land, France, Ireland, Spanish, Infanta, Philip, Spaine,
Master o' Her Majestie's Horse, Order of th' Garter, coun-
sellor, Ayrshire, London, Elanders, commander, Dover,

Epigrams.

IN THE FOX. 65

L. Duke Alva, Parma, *Queene-rnother, Paris, French, gal-
lantry, courage, glosse, fate, deathless, marriage, fury, poy-
son, sacke, intent, wrong loves.

*Make th' keyes thus nam'd in Th' Forrest, your guides
to sundry othe' parts of my play then have generally beene
put out, for while I thus may hide aides, keies, or abridg-
ments, I feel no feare of discovery and proceed calmlie.
Witts that be so sharpe and keene that our foxe having
none other covert might come suddenlie to grief e, shall by
the device here adopted fayle to s'ent it. Yet are we in
good hope that my faithful interpreter will understand
how hee shall bring it forth, but the play shall not bee us'd
except for directions in Bi-letter Cyphar (because it hath
but that Cyphar) being from my friend, his worthy penne.
You have decyphered it already if you have followed our
turnes.

I have little myselfe to do except give directio' unto
your work, my writi'gs being chiefly sent foorth at this
time which bee readie for printing. How soon my story
of my owne life shall lack but obit, I know not. Manie
others are compleated, as I think must, out of doubt, bee
well known to you th' most that our endeavors could, by
consta't, tirelesse labours put forth. Yet hath my plann
many worthy things of accompt, or of mark, yet to com-
pleat in my various, and dayly growing fields. But no
doubt a part must be put upo' hands that we trained to our
work but by a patient reiteration, much like our instructor's
in th' elementary learning of our childhoode.

Time must bee carefullie hoarded by one who would use
a Cypher in his publisht works, for his labour, multiplying

*The Forrest. *Every Man Out of His Humor.

66 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

thereby from once writing to two or three, tryeth the spirit
sorelie, and requireth soe much leasure, that fewe would
pursue it soe long as I have done, and fewe have soe great
cause, as you know.

And yet I have also emploied my Cyphers for other
then secret matters in many of my later bookes, because it
hath now become so much an act of habite, I am at a losse
at this present, having lesse dificile labour, now, then in
former times in Her Ma.'s service. My owne study is not
(for my Cyphar writings) omitted, and lesse estimated, but
most diligent work, I se, is ever delightful for mankinde
and their benefit.

The lacke of my just honour and dignity oppresseth
little, if my minde be constantly set upon others besides
myselfe, nor can any pow'r but th' Divine make man's
heart happie or sad. "Minde is the true kingdome, ever/'
in the words of the song my friend quoteth most aptly, and
my constant hope is to atchieve as much greatnesse therein,
and win as much honour, as would belong to me by right of
my greater birth, as th' world maketh its accompt of
pow'r or desert, then is supposed mine. You surely must
know I am by right of blond. King, no other then th'
true, right or proper inheritour o' th' Crowne. I am per-
suaded one who should work soe patiently, hath found
rnanie a revelation. As unto myselfe, I have layd my every
planne open herein, and as shall bee seene, spare my pride
not at all, in relating the story. Polity, doubtlesse, would
counsell the suppression of some of this, but it suiteth mee
to put thoughts as freely heere as I would inscribe them
in a private booke noe eye but this might reade.

In order to conceale my Cypher more perfectly I am
preparing for th' purpose a sette of alphabets in th' Latine

IN THE FOX. 67

tipe, not for use in th' greatest or lengthy story or epistle,
but as another disguise, for, in ensample, a prologue, prse-
fatio, the epilogues, and head-lines attracted *too much
notice. I, therefore, have given much trouble to mine
ayders by making two kinds or formes of these letters.
These bee not designed for other use then hath but now
beene explain'd, nor must you looke to see them employ'd
if a reason for th' change appeare, but there will be warn-
ing given you for your instruction or guidance. Noe othe'
waie of diverting th' curious could be used where th'
exteriour epistle is but briefe, however it will not thus
turne aside my decypherer, for his eye is too well practis'd
in artes that easily misleade others who enquire of th' waye.

If I deceive your hope and leade you on to pursue a
flitting vision o' fame, fortune, and great delight, may th'
whole injury bee mine, for th' hope and desire are mine;
yet I cannot beleeve my noble invention, which hath
already bin us'd many yeares, shall proove valuelesse or
vaine. I am, in very truth, confident of my dues of honor
in the course o' time, and that shall bee shared with my
decypherer. Can he say this is nought and laugh at it? I
thinke not, nor can hee say that I have any other objecte
in view, or other motive then to give a corrected history
of my times, albeit my owne is more changed by my recital
then any othe ? save Her Majestie, her story.

'Tis just that the vayle bee torne from th' features
admired so long, to expose her true character to all th' world.
Yet I make inquirie of you, who hath a penne soe perfect
that it could shew th' colours o' good and evill? Onlie
one who is gifted with more then common wisedome, but
th' hand so guided worketh out lines as doth inspired pennes.

"Cynthia's Revels.

68 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Surelie a sonne doth sit close at hand and should se clearly
to limne truely. This I know I have accomplisht, nor
glozed, nor blench'd in my accompt, although wider, or
rathe' more searching lookes, shew'd mee tha' undercur-
rant, stronger ev'n then vanity, partly Tudor strength of
will, and partly her owne selfe-love, that moved on as
resist! esslie as fate, bearing all before th' unsuspected
force.

This it was, altho' soe well disguis'd, that kept me from
my crowne, and as th' days and moneths wore towards th'
close o' life, her desires master'd her wisedome soe farre
that shee did meditate naming my brother successor; but
his attempt to snatch this prize did thwart alike her hope,
and his, at forfeit of his life.

All joys died with Essex in both our bosomes; for her,
all peace, as well, and she deelin'd toward her owne end
from daie to day, visiblie, even while she stroove most to
hide her weaken esse.

Some, doubtlesse, suppos'd that some spirit of justice
was arous'd respecting her owne right, and beleev'd that it
manifested itselfe very plainly in th' choice of Mary's sonne
to succeed her, but I know that her strong othe concerning
mee, the reall heyre to th' kingdome, had greater waight
then all things else. It was still most constantly in her
minde, more perhaps, or as much, as th' Scripture, so that,
as Ben Jonson saith, she made it her religion *to doe injury
to me.

Yet have I accomplisht much by most thorough manner
and unceasing appliance of time. But in Cypher writi'g,
you know well, nothing can be accounted finished whylst

*The Poetaster.

IN THE FOX. 69

anie Cypher historic bee inco'pleat. My grande Cyphre
prooveth true, but th' work is heavie. Much doth still
remayne to build up into a new forme a new edifice but
having exercis'd patience and most ceaslese perseverance
for so manie yeares, 'tis not probable that I shall now falter;
but I dread least too many parts be left when I make the
finall exit, and mar the whole. Of that none but the Divine
Kuler knoweth.

Xoe hand save this could carry out my dessein, and con-
clude so well both th' Cyphe' narrations and the exteriour
epistles, yet are the secret letters soe divided when assorted,
no one would see th' story that had not the Cypher key.

Very little, the care this causeth me. My feares growe
from that which I called dread as to the end of the work.
Th' time is still in niinde when my thoughts had no rest
in th' hours o' idlenes lest Her Majestic, my mother, finde
out my secret. Shee is now gone to that undiscover'd
country from whose borne no traveller returnes; nor feare
nor hope is left me of ought from her hand, but death shall
not burie this that her life ccgiceaPd. Th' truth here dis-
cover'd must live in ev'ry age, for a Righteous Judge doth
pronounce this sentence irrevocably. 'Tis simple justice
to her spouse and her two heyres, if too tardie to availe
ought. But your recompence should be like my owne, that
is to say, honor. jSTone, if due you by following our
Cypher, will come short. No man may so deprive you of
that, hence, for your owne sake we trust that your strength
and patie'ce shall continu' until from th' bookes we leave,
you work out this gem of stored truth, most like a worker
in th' earth's hidden mines as you put down your bar you
see the treasure.

70 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Severall comedies, which.be now strangers, as might be
said, bearing at th' most such titles 'mongst the plaiers as
they would remember, but th' author's name in disguise, if
it bee seen at all, will, as soone as may be found toward and
propitious, be publisht by Shakespeare, i. e. in his name,
having masqued thus manie of the best plaies that we
have beene able to produce. To these wee are steadilie
making additions, writing from two to six stage plays every
year. With th' state duty latelie devolv'd on us this
seemeth surely a great taske, since as is knowne to our
decypherer, th' Cyphers must be first divided, (put out so
fragmentary, soe well scatter'd that no such purpose be
dreamt of), and when all is prepar'd, this Bi-literall part
i. e. as it is being set up must pass into no scrutiny but
mine.

Tlr great prease of these labours doth take from one,
as must be undertaken, th' required leysure for correc-
tions which is doubly noted herein. In some places the
reader will not find much hindrance from such obstruc-
tions, in others 'tis hardlie wonne; yet we take heart since
we assure ourself th' decyph'rer's eye is ever soe keene,
he shall let noe simple errour blind him. And though
important parts may be frequently, aye many a time,
repeated, hee shall acknowledge our device is as truly a
waie to transcend small works as writing th' usual dramas
doth farre outgo history. As one writi'g the true story
must throw all dread and feare into ISTox, her gloomie for-
getfullnes, this Cypher is as a strong guard, its meandri'gs
our safetie, so shutti'g out harassing inquirers.

SIR F. B.

IN THE FOX. 71

*At our father's most ernest request this tale must be
made very full, so that no reader could doubt its true design.
Other thinges, noe matter how great, or vast, must yield
place. Yet it was his wish to have it told ope'lie in our
books. That wee hold imprudent. Th' deciph'rer hath no
grave task. Xo more must he decypher after th' play now
in hand. It is my work noe furder then doth concern
alphabets, excepting those portions which have, I doubt not,
beene found long ere this, having soe oft beene spoken of
in manie of my epistles.

Th' Cyphe' therein contain'd hath great worth if writ-
ten out, but like th' tre'sure in f am'd mines o' distante isles,
little can its valew be knowne whilst it lyeth hidden.
Where manie authours receive the reward of their applica-
tion at once, ours awaits man's future; but 'tis th' future
of time, and posterity must make just amends for our present
want. The future peoples of a distant shore will prove true
th' word which saith : "A man is not without honour save
in his owne countrey," since they be true, to-day, here,
for us who dwell where th' Divine footsteps have nere trod,
as they were sixteene hundred yeares ago in Palestine.

Wee awaite that day.

FR. BACO'.

*Every man in his humor.

SHAKESPEAEE QUAKTOS.

RICHARD THE SECOND.
1615.

Winne honest rewardes in the praise o' your generation
by greeting them in our voyce, and like a sweete violl, sound
such musicke that all shal recognise the hand that made of
olden time, musieke that all men found good. Sweete lines
of our ever new poeme, Faerie Qucene, fresh in their minds
still rest, and when these in new forme come out from the
shelte' of our exteriour workes, they afforde pleasant sur-
prises.

The same is noted in respect of all works, and the pleasant
charme is such as doth come in th' dance on removing the
masque wh'ch hath coneeal'd a face that we love. We lose
remembrances unreal, fantasies and a strangenesse (even
where wee bee most sensible that onely the shell is altered)
and we welcome the familiar features. Sometimes th' secret
epistle seemeth a harsh note and jarreth; discord is sodaiiiely
thimd'red forth, yet is it all iiecesary, if truth is to be seen
and understood.

Wei knowing how rude some notes shall sound, f aine will
our musike, wrought soe silentlie, ofte resou'd one stra'gly
sweete straine of one our early fancy, pai'ting not what we
knew, but ev'ry winsome grace, or proud yet gentle motion
of lilie hand or daintily tripping foot, long worshipt as
divine heavenly Marguerite, Queene of Xavarre. So shall
the ruder jar, slightly lessen'd, sound almost harmonious.

IN MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 73

See also shall the disclosed story, or this broken accompte
of secret working at Court, come to bee knowne. A truth
shall bee reveal'd that much wrongeth us.

F. B. OR T.

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

1619.

Write out the Grayes Inne epistle and by following
our Cyphar in one set of playes not yet put out, there, hid
with a penetrable masqueing device, a great number of
secrets may be learn'd which are not elsewhere fullie told.
The secret carried, utterly reverseth the common opinion
at present currant, though some do know Queene Elizabeth
to have wedded.

Ere she, coming to th' throne like an imperiall Tudor,
in every word that she let fall at the councell board, might
hold these idole, subtile whispers i' leash, there were many
rumors as it will be in truth prov'd, passing quicklie from
tongue to tongue.

By undulie bandying about a ring as one might say
to speak lightly, since our observing search ii'deth nought
that could not bee said to ende at the same place at which
it may have started there hath bin strange proof that
maids put their lives in numberlesse jeopardies, buying
libertie of th' thoughts or th' tongue with losse of liberty
of the bodie; or that men, ev'n, when some strong drinke
loos'd propper controllment of th' member, thorow rash
speech, were reft sodainelie of lands and tre'sure [and] paid
penalty to th' hight of her owne plesure.

There needed no other pretexte were this offender lowly;
the noble no waye was advantag'd eyther. Sundrie were
never in any case wanting to shewe her th' safe waye to

74 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

her will. Among th' com'ons it is sayd, in great f eare,
more simple mindes sustayned th' shocke at such time o'
perill as did unhinge stronger ones, and it may be thought
a very binding oath made on th' Sacred Word could so
control trulie garrullous tongues, and that of the common
rank example might have bin found necessary. We must
say this was the case. It is told for truth, to our belief
in many such cases the racke was us'd, and one man suffered

th' losse of th' offending member for his word.

BACONS

THE WHOLE CONTENTION BETWEENE THE HOUSES OF
YORK AND LANCASTER.

1619.

Like ill thought, fly curses, and doe not light, when
causeles, to do injury. In this doe we see onelie simple,
just judgeme't, or right dealing, when we waigh the clayme
of divine birthright to an exercise proper and right of a
man's owne will.

When ill succes.with one most aspiring ambition, not
yet likely or I might say ev'n possible o'.that degree of
fullfilme't I desire, f ollow'd upon my first serious differences
and subsequent open rupture with our mother, I tooke coun-
sel] with one, who, tho' not an oracle, possest wisedom that
most lacke, that is, wisedome for himselfe. Hee bad me
manifest no f eare of curses such as anger shall oft call downe
yet cannot governe. We may shudder at a dreadfull winged
word, but it cannot doe harine to our life.

Qu. E., who deserv'd more honour as a wife then could
otherwise come to her, who should, following Cornelia,
her gracious yet solemne ensample and worthie word, have
helde her sonnes as precious even as England's costliest

IN THE WHOLE CONTENTION^ 75

gemmes, was much mov'd by my rash interference to turne
aside her wrath ere it had blasted utterly the fayre flowret
on whom it fell, yclipt me ewry dred name her tongue;
could speake and cursed mee bitterly. Manie say it still
doth work me haruie. This cannot be true, inasmuch as I
am innocuous of any premeditated ill to Elizabeth. * * *
That this shall bee such true historic that it shall be
worthy of preservacion, I have not blench'd ought how-
soev'r much it may irk mee, or wearie those who read it,
but some of it I would I could forget after it hath bene set
downe. I cannot, as one that would write the evill with
such plaine and hideous feature, th' sight shall turne pure
eyes from it, narrate this in wordes lesse strong.

A truth cannot well chose its outside apparell, but it
shall wear unsullied robes. Th' great Cipher shal contain
most importa't matters that will not elsewhere bee found,
because this king is nothing lacking in diligence to suppres
any printing that would acquaynt very youthfull yeomen
with this strange clayme strange since he who thus
demanded right was sonne to the Queene, th' first to blesse
her union with 'Robert Dudley whilst a prisoner in the
Tower.

It is well knowne at home and abroad that England's
yeomanrie, inform'd that England's lawful Prince walk'd
humblie without his crowne, would joine in one mightie
force that he be enthronized.

This it is which now maketh me assured it had bene
much to advantage me, if my claime had th' sturdy yeomen,
their support. The commons, in such a cause, can, I have
no doubt, ayde or advance one farre more then a forraine
royalty, or this nobilitie, if once these matters shall be wel
understood ; so that the wish to leav'n th' stout youths of

76 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

our land in western and many northern country towns is
vastly gaini'g stre'gth, and many workes have beiie plami'd
to interesse, in plays, men -who can get little else. Yet
if th' times yield them noe one that shall interprete to
some of this number, th' epistles within the huske, I can
nere reach their mindes, or rouse them for this start.

Some would yeeld his cause sooner, or aske ayde in a
lande remov'd far from this, yet I have turned to my long
estrang'd yet wholy honest peopl' that I may come to the
power.

Watching th' storms but saying no unmeani'g word, I
put forth my secret letters. It may bee noe eie will note,
no hand will ayde if this be true I die and make no signe.

If a Divine Pow'r intend noe ayde, I can only look
forward towards the future. It shall thus perchance, some-
what content my heart at that farre off day that those who
dwel on the globe may fully learn how great is th' wrong
turbulent Robt. did by thus endang'ring as well a worthy
and devoted friend and a .loving brother to worke out a
strange, I [ay], bold designe, since 'twas this which sudenly
rous'd Her Majesty to hatred or jealousie great as th' mind
to which that evill demon came. The events that follow'd
prooved this, but I could onlie sail in th' waters when a
milde wind blew, lest the sodaine wracke of all my cherish'd
dreames might fill my heart with envie the root of th'
worser evills that become our portio' at our birth.

Th' reriew'd maidenlike pretence made mee know th'
intent held by this vayne-minded, selfe-loving woman.
Daily, a sonne with proud humour mirrour'd her best graces,
but shee was nere mov'd to retract a single wrathful oath
or yield a word o' approvall, be my deservi'g whatsoever
and whensoeever it might. This continued estrangement

IN PERICLES. 77

wore on or increased. At last she fell into a mela'colia
so profou'd none could rouse her. This was more unfor-
tunate for mee then a most mark'd resolve such as I spake
of, for a whim may oft be remov'd and banished, but
mania is difficile to controll, else my most able powers had
trulie shewn men what both equally desired that height
to which England should rise, ruled by a kind, wise king.

FRANCIS OF E.

PERICLES.
1619.

When this and various plaies put out in diverse names
have bin joined, you shall finde that I am the authour that is
masquing his work thus, that a secret, ay a perilou' historic,
may bee written in better form then I could well employ
if I wish'd to speak so plain e that all might heare and know
my voyce.

All men who write stage-playes are held in co'tempte.
For this reason none say, "How strange," when a plaie-
cometh, accompanied with gold, asking a name by whichi
one puting it forward shall not bee recognis'd, or thought
to bee cognisant of its existence. For this cause, if rare
stories must hare a hidi'g, noe other could be so safe, for
th' men who had won gold in any way, did not readily
acquai't any man, least o' these a stranger, with his source
of wealth as you may well understand.

For space o' many long yeeres ther'fore I have cent'red
my thought and giv'n as much of my time as th' calls of
our businesses do permit. My motive some might question,
yet it seemeth to mee a worthie and right one to be giv'n
waie, my wishes or plans being myracles to some slighte

78 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

degree, th' great thought comming to me in th' silente
night vigils. For a youth could see his whole life at a
word turn'd aside.

As a stream soe often, out o' wild mou'tayn gorg rising,
carry'd thro' a meade in bounds that have bin set, or trameld
by devices, doth lose its spirit, so hee felt his hart change
in his breast. There was a momente when as by a thunde'-
bolt th' truth was hurtled forth in soe hard, stern, unbending
waye it shockt young minds; and sensible souls must deliver
a cry of sorrow when a wound is wa'tonlie inflicted.

In my plaies, therefore, I have tossed my f eeli'gs as they
doe roll and swell, or hurtle along their way. Observe,
tho' 'twas th' seco'd daughter of Henri the Eight was my
mother, these things do bring my hart many a feare I shal
never, in a farre time, bee

FRANCIS THE FIRST OF ENGLAND.

YORKSHIRE TRAGEDY.
ED. 1619.

This play should joine our othe' playes if our greatest
of Cyphres, or o' all artes be found. These must be sought
where wee previously directed you, and by noe meanes
must th' work bee layd by, tho' so tiresome 'tis sometimes
lesse pleasure to followe with co'stancie, then to take up as
occasion and liking shall serve.

But so great is th' importance that may attach to seem-
ingly small incidents, this history should not bee pass'd
over by one seeking the true and ungloz'd story as seldome
related ene unto bosom friends. In no part be faithles

and rash.

FR. BACON.

IN ROMEO AND JULIET. 79

ROMEO AND JULIET.
WITHOUT DATE.

Since th' former issue of this play, very seldome heard
without most stormie weeping you' poets commonest
plaudite we have al but determined on folowing the for-
tunes of thes ill-fated lovers by a path les thorny.

Their life was too briefe its rose of pleasure had but
partlie drunk the sweete dewe o' early delight, and evrie
hour had begun to ope unto sweete love, tender leaflets
in whose fragrance was assurance of untolcl joies that th'
immortalls know. Yet 'tis a kinde fate which joyn'd them
together in life and in death.

It was a sadder fate befel our youthful! love, my Mar-
guerite, yet written out in the plays it scarce would bee
named our tragedie since neither yeelded up life. But
the joy of life ebb'd from our hearts with our parting, and
it never came againe into this bosome in full flood-tide.
O we were Fortune's foole too long, sweete one, and arte
is long.

This stage-play in part will tell our briefe love tale, a
part is in the play previously nam'd or mention'd as having
therein one pretty scene, acted by the two. So rare (and
most briefe) th' hard-won happinesse, it afforded us great
content to relive in th' play all that as mist in summer
morni'g did roule aAvay. It hath place in th' dramas co'-
taining a scene and theame of this nature, since our fond
love interpreted th' harts o' others, and in this joy, th' joy
of heaven was faintlte guess'd.

Farre from angelique tho' man his nature, if his love
bee as cleare or as fine as our love for a lovely woman (sweet
as a rose and as thorny it might chance) it sweet'neth all

80 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

th' e'closure of his brest, oft chaugeiug a waste into lovely
gardens, which th' angels would fayne seeke. That it soe
uplifts our life who would ere question. Xot he, our
friend and good adviser, knowne to all decyph'ring any o'
these hidd'n epistles, Sir Amyas Paulet.

It is sometimes said, "No man can at once be wise and
love," and yet it would be wel to observe many will bee
wiser after a lesson such as we long agoo conn'd.

There was noe ease to our sufferi'g heart til our yeares
of life were eight lustres. The faire face liveth ever in
dreames, but in inner pleasances onely doth th' sunnie vision
come. This wil make clearlie scene why i' th' part a man
doth play heerein and wherere man's love is evident,
strength hath remain'd unto the end, th' wanto' Paris
recov'ring by his latter venture much previouslie lost.

BACON.

ROBERT GREENE.

A QUIP FOR AN UPSTART COURTIER.
1620.

This work may not be knowne as mine, as anothe' is
now giv'n all o' th' wreathes and girlonde' certaine bookes
bring. 'Tis among more worthy productions alreadie
known to you. and is made valuable to my compleated his-
tory in my long-sought interionr epistles, as my labours
must by this time clearlie haA'e shewne, by that pri'cipall

Cypher.

FRA'. B.

FKAXCIS BACON.

NOVUM ORGANUM.

1620.

All that learne that I, who accompte th' truth better
then wicked vanitie, publish'd manie late playes under
other cognomen' will think the motive some distaste of the
stage. In noe respect is it true, yet I shall make knowne
to him who can reade Cypher-writing, a motive stronger
then this, were it such, since man hath a greater desire to
live then hee hath to winne fame, and my life had foure
eager spyes on it, not alone by day but by night also.

It may thus bee surmis'd that devices of some sort were
soe needful, even to publish poemes which might natural-
lie bee but such as doe afforde pleasure, that my wit, not
at all lessen'd, but sharpen'd, by constant dangers, found
meanes unknown to those who were most warie, to send
out much hidden dang'rous matter, (using tearmes in re-
gard tc myselfe onely) that was not ev'n doubted.

Several! small works under no name wonne worthy
praise; r-ext in Spenser's name, also, they ventured into an
unknowne world. "When I, at length, having written in
diverse stiles, found three who, for sufficient reward in gold
added to an immediate renowne as good pens, willingly
put forth all workes whch I had compos'd, I was bolder.
Feare lest noe reader may note an inner or Cipher story,
is more present now, and doth question how to make a

82 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

change of such sort that it be simple but not playne, for
no strong Cypher is to be read as wee reade a booke.

Having with some care prepar'd twoo setts both large
and small of accented or mark'd letters, in this type com-
monly cald Italique, I have emploied the same more fre-
quently to hide secret matters, not as a meanes to render
discyphering easy, per contra, making it difficult. How-
ever I now purpose their employment in my future labour
in lieu o' th' plain' type, beleeving that the eie will be
more readilie strucke thereby not in the present writing
further then hath already beene mention'd. Upon more
reflection, I am assured it will, at length, accomplish all
intended when it was devis'd, which, as must, methinkes,
ere the present time bee well knowne, was but to aide in
decyphering my great Word-Cypher so called because
key-words are emploi'd in joining the parts.

It is farre more labour writing thus, since a mistake
causeth much harme, and a frequent and tiresome repeti-
tion hath beene needfull to assure th' revelation of th'
whole hidden story; nor can it prove to be lesse wearyi'g
to my decipherer whe' all my secret hath beene brought
out, yet doe I maintaine that the principall work hath
beene, or is, writing a secret storie of my owne life, as well
as a true historie of th' times, in this greater Cypher.

I have lost therein a present fame that I may, out of
anie doubt, recover it in our owne and othe' lands after
manie a long yeare. I thinke some ray, that farre offe
golden morning, will glimmer ev'n into th' tombe where
I shall lie, 'and I shall know that wisdome led me thus to
wait unhonour'd, as is meete, until in the perfected time,
which the Ruler, that doth wisely shape our ends, rough
hewe them how we will, doth ev'n now knowe, my justi-
fication bee complete.

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 83

In th' Cyphers heere given, you will run ore the story
of my life from yeere to yeere, wherein you may find that
I was of roiall birth, th'" first whose clayme to th' scepter
was denyed by his foolish mother, herselfe a queene. I
being th' first sonne, and borne in proper and just time
after my roial mother, her marriage, should sway* Eng-
land's sceptre and sit in her chaire of state; but Elizabeth,
who thought to outcraft all th' powers that be, supprest
all hints of her marriage, for no knowne object if it bee
not that her desire to swaie Europe had some likelihood,
thus, of comming to fulfillment. Many were her suitors,
with whom shee executed th' figures of a dance, advanc-
ing, retreating, leading, or following in sweet sympathy
to the musicke's call. But ever was there a dying fall in
those straines none might heare onely she or my father
and th' dancer's feete never led to Hymen's lofty altar,
thereafter.

A feare seemed to haunt her minde that a king might
suit th' mounting ambitions of a people that began to seeke
Xew Atlantis beyond th' westerne seas. Some doubtlesse
long'd for a roiall leader of the troopes, when warres blacke
eagles threat'ned th' realme, which Elizabeth met in two

O *

wayes by shewi'g a kinglie spirit when subjects were
admitted into th' presence chamber, and by th' most con-
sta't opposition to warre, as was well knowne to her coun-
cill. Manie supposing miserly love of gold uppermoste
in mind and spirit, made but partial and cursorie note o r
her naturall propension, so to speake, or the bent o' th'
disposition, for behinde every othe' passion and vanity
mooving her, the feare of being depos'd rankled and urg'd
her to a policie not yet understood.

Th' warres of Edward, cald The Third, but who might

84 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

bee nam'd the first amongst heroes, and of his bolde
sonne, known as Edward the Blacke Prince, of brave
Henry Fift, and her grandsire Henry Sevent, as well as
one of her father, his short strifes, were not yet out of
memorie of th' people. Many pens kepte all these fresh
in their mindes. Shee, as a grave physitian, therefore,
kept a finger on th' wrist of the publique, so, doubtlesse,
found it the part of prudence to put the Princes, my
brother, th' Earle of Essex, and myselfe out o' th' sight
of th' people.

Yet in course of time the Earle of Leicester, our subtile
father, handled matters so that hee came nearer to obtain-
ing th' crowne for my brother then suited my wishes and
claymes, making pretense of consulting [my] tastes and
fitnesse for learning. That Robert was of bolder temper
and more fiery spirit I can by no argument disprove, but
I want not roiall parts, and right of primogeniture may
not be set aside, without some costly sacrifice, as modesty
or good fame. Stopping shorte of this irreparable wrong,
my father tooke but slight interesse in the things he had
beene so hot upon, and th' trouble regarding his wilde pro-
jects was at a time much later subsequent to th' death of
our fathe'.

Though constantly hemmed about, threatened, kept
under surveillance, I have written this history in full in
the Cypher, being fully persuaded, in my owne minde and
heart, that not onelie jesting Pilate, but the world aske:
"What is truth?" and when they reade th' hidden history
in my work, must thinke it a worthie labour to write a
triie history of our times, and o' that greatly renown'd
mayden-queene, Elizabeth, it shall appeare misplact

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 85

when you put my work, as you here shall finde it, into a
form readily understood.

As may bee well kuowne unto you, th' questio' of Eliza-
beth, her legitimacie, made her a Protestant, for the Pope
had not recognis'd th' union, tho' it were royale, which her
sire made with f ayre Anne Boleyn. Still we may see that
despite some restraining feare, it suited her to dallie with
the question, to make a faint shew of settling the mater as
her owne co'scie'ce dictated, if we take th' decisions of
facts; but the will of th' remorse-tost king *left no doubt
in men's minds concerning th' former marriage, in fact, as
th' crowne was giv'n first to Mary, his daughter of that
marriage, before commi'g to Elizabeth.

In th' storie of my most infortunate grandmother, the
sweet ladie who saw not th' headsman's axe when shee
went forth proudly to her coronation, you shall read of a
sadnesse that touches me neere, partlie because of neere-
nesse in bloud, partlie from a firme beliefe and trust in
her innocencie. Therefore every act and scene of this play
of which I speake, is a tende' sacrifice, and an incense to
her sweete memorie. It is a plea to the generations to
come for a just judgement upon her life, whilst also giving
the world one of the noblest o' my plays, hidden in Cy'hre
in many other workes.

A short argument, and likewise th' keies, are giv'n to
ayde th' decypherer when it is to be work'd out as I wish.
This doth tell th' story with suflicient clearnes to guide you
to our hidden storie.

This opeth at th' palace, when King Henry for the
first time cometh truely under the spell of her beautie,
then in th' highest perfection of dainty grace, fresh, un-
spoiled, and the charme of youthlie manners. It is

86 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

thought this was that inquisition which brought out feares
regarding th' marriage contracted with Katharine of Arra-
gon, so that none greatly wond'red whe' prolonged consul-
tation of the secret voyce in his soule assur'd the questioner
noe good could ever come from the union. Acti'g upon
this conviction he doth confer money and titles upon his
last choise to quiet objections on score of unmeetnes.

But tho' an irksome thing, truth shall be told. Tho' it
be ofttimes a task, if selfe-imposed, not by any meanes
th' lesse, but* more wearisome, since the work hath noe
voyce of approvall or praise, I intend its completion. For
many simple causes th' historic of a man's life cometh
from acts that we see through stayned glasse darkelie, and
of th' other sexe, a man doth perceyve lesse, if possible,
but th' picture that I shall heere give is limn'd most care-
fully. However m' pen hath greatly digress'd, and to
returne.

Despite this mark of royall favour, a grave matter like
the divorcement of a royall spouse to wed a maide, suited
not with f ayre Anne's notions of justice, and with a sweete
grace she made answere when the King sued for favour:
"I am not high in birth as would befit a Queene, but I am
too good to become your mistresse," So there was no waye
to compasse his desires save to wring a decree out o' th'
Pope and wed th' maide, not a jot regarding her answer
unlesse to bee the more eager to have his waye.

Th' love Lord Percy shew'd my lady, although so frankly
return'd, kept the wish turning, turning as a restless mill.
Soone he resolv'd on proof of his owne spirit, doe th' Pope
how he might, and securing a civill decree, privately
wedded th' too youthfull Anne, and hid her for space of
severall daies untill th' skies could somewhat cleare; but

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 87

when th' earlie sumer came, in hope that there might
soone bee borne to them an heyre of th' desir'd kinde,
order'd willinglie her coronation sparing noe coste to make
it outvie anie other.

And when she was borne along, surrounded by soft
white tissew, shielded by a canopie of white, whilst she is
wafted onwards, you would say an added charme were to
paint the lillie, or give the rose perfume.

This was onely th' beginning of a triumph, bright as
briefe, in a short space 'twas ore. Henry chose to con-
sider th' infant princesse in the light of great anger of a
just God brought upon him for his sinnes, but bearing this
with his daring spirit, he compelleth the Actes of Suprem-
acy and Succession, which placed him at the head of the
Church of England, in th' one case, and made his heires
by Queene Anne th' successours to th' throne. Untill that
time, onely male heyres had succeeded to th' roiall power
and the act occasioned much surprise amongst our nobilitie.

But Henry rested not the'. The lovelinesse of Anne
and her natural opennesse of manner, so potent to winne
th' weake heart o' th' King, awaken'd suspition and much
cruell jealousie when hee saw th' gay courtiers yielding to
th' spell of gracefull gentility, heighten'd by usage for-
rayn, as also at th' English Court. But if truth be said,
th' fancy had taken him to pay lovi'g court unto the faire
Jane Seymour, who was more beautifull, and quite
young, but also most ordinary as doth regard person all
manner, and th' qualitie that made th' Queene so pleas-
ing, Lady Jane permitting marks of gracious favour t'
be freelie offered.

And the Queene, unfortunately for her secret hope, sur-
pris'd them in a tender scene. Sodaine grief e orewhelm-

88 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

ing her so viole'tlie, she swound before them, and a little
space thereafter the infant sonne so constantly desir'd,
borne untimely, disappointed once more this selfish mon-
arch. This threw him into great fury, so that he was
cruellie harsh where [he] should give comfort and sup-
port, throwing so much blame upon the gentle Queene,
that her heart dyed within her not long after soe sadde
ending of a mother, her hopes.

Under pretexte of beleeying gentle Queene Anne to be
guilty of unf aithfullnesse, Henry had her convey'd to Lon-
don Tower, and subjected her to such ignominy as one can
barelie beleeve, ev'n basely laying to her charge the
gravest sins, and summoning a jury of peeres delivered the
Queene for tryal and sentence. His act doth blacken
pitch. Ev'n her father, sitting amidst the peeres before
whom shee was tried, exciteth not so much astonishment
since hee was forc'd thereto.

Henry's will was done, but hardly could hee restraine
the impatience that sent him forth from his pallace at th'
hour of her execution to an eminence neare by, in order
to catche th' detonation (ation) of th' field peece whose
hollow tone tolde the moment at which th' cruell axe fell,
and see the blacke flag, that signall which floated wide to
tell the worl4 she breath'd no more.

Th' hast with which hee then went forward with his
marriage, proclaym'd the reall rigor or frigidity of his
hart. It is by all men accompted strange, this subtile
power by which soe many of the peeres could be forc'd to
passe sentence upon this lady, when proofes of guilt were
nowhere to bee produced. In justice to a memorie dear
to myselfe, I must aver that it is far from cleare yet, upon
what charge shee was found worthie of death. It must of

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 89

neede have beene some quiddet of th' lawe, that chang'd
some harmlesse words into anything one had in minde, for
in noe other waye could speech of hers be made wrong-full.
Having f ayl'd . to prove her untrue, nought could bring
about such a resulte, had this not (have) beene accomplish'd.

Thus was her good fame made a reproache, and time
hath not given backe that priceles treasure. If my plaie
shal shew this most clearly, I shall be co'tente. And as
for my roiall grandsire, whatever honour hath beene lost
by such a course, is re-gain'd by his descendants from the
union, through this lovi'g justification of Anne Bulle', his
murther'd Queene.

Before I go further with instructions, I make bold to say
that th' benefits we who now live in our free England
reape [are] from her faith and unfayling devotion to th'
advancement, that she herselfe promoting, beheld well
undertaken. It was her most earnest beliefe in this re-
markable and widelie spread effecte on th' true prosperitie
of the realme, and not a love o' dignity or power, if the
evidence of workes be taken, that co'strain'd her to take
upon her th' responsibility of roialtie. And I am'fullie
perswaded in mine owne minde that had shee lived to carry
out a ll th' work, her honours, no doubt, had outvied those
of her world-wide famed and honour'd daughter who con-
tinu'd that which had beene so well commenc'd.

I am aware many artes waned in the raignes of Edward
and bloodie Mary, also that their recovery must have
requir'd patient attention and the expenditure of money
my mother had no desire so to imploy, having many other
things at that time by which th' coffers were drayn'd
subtly; but that it must require farre greater perseverance
in order to begin so noble work, devising th' plannes and

90 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

ayding in their execution, cannot be impugn'd. Many

times these things do not shewe lightness or th' vanitie
which some have laid to her charge.

However th' play doth reveale this better, farre, then I
wish t' give it in this Cypher, therefore I begge that it
shall bee written out and kept as a perpetual monument of
my wrong'd, but innocent ancestresse.

My keies mentio'd in the beginning of this most helpfull
work, will follow in this place: * * * *

As hath most frequentlie bin said these will write th 7
play, but th' foregoing abridgeme't, or argument, wil ayde
you. In good hope of saving th' same from olde Father
Time's ravages, heere have I hidden this Cypher play. To
you I entruste th' taske I, myselfe, shall never see com-
plete, it is probable, but soe firme is my conviction that it
must before long put up its leaves like th' plant in th'
sunne, that I rest contente awaiting that time.

Soone wil my discypherer finde another kind of drama
that shall give as great varietie to th' interiour plays as
hath beene noted in the exteriour. It is a comedy having
for its actors divers whom I have used to masque myselfe
from sight, having a co'stant f eare lest my name should be
found. .

Ill would mj work fare if fate remov'd me ere they were
finish'd, and ill my very life itselfe would have fared, if
my plays, which I then composed, had bene knowne to be
the work o' my hand, to Queene E , who as hath beene
said previously, publiquely tearm'd herselfe a mayden-
queene, whylst wife to th' Earle of Leicester. By th'
union, myselfe and one brother were th' early fruits,
princes by no meanes basely begot, but so farre were wee
from being properly acknowledg'd, in our youth we did

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 91

not surmise ourselves other then the sonne of the Lord
Keeper of the Scale, Nicholas Bacon, in the one case, and
of th' Earle of Essex, Walter Dev'reux, in the other.

Several yeares had gone by ere our true name or anie of
th' conditions herein mentioned, came to our knowledg'.
In truth, even then the revelation was in a measure acci-
dentall albeit 'twas made by my mother her wrath over
one of my boylike impulses driving her to admissions
quite unthought, wholy unpremeditated, but when thus
spoken to our hearing, not to bee retracted or denyed.

But as wel' might all this sleep ev'n yet in the past as,
farre from advancing the state of these sonnes, shee cast off
all thought, or interesse in th' wellfare of her owne, to
advance that of men no waye depending on her. So this
i]l-advised disregard of the birth-right prerogative, pow'r,
dignity and honour, by lawe Divine due to the princes of
this realme, many times made evidente to us, moved my
brother to the rash measure that was soone conceyv'd and
as sodainlie ended. Without doubt, sense o' injustice
stung a proud spirit like his past th' boundes of a patience
at noe time remarkable or well foster'd by the atmospheare
of the Courte.

Furthermore noe thought so holds th' imagination of
youth as that o' imperiall power. We crave Caesar's law-
rell crowne at cost of sleepelesse houres in the night, and
wearie toyle by daye. I can undertake such a feeling
better then most, having had th' same interesse in a degree
much greater, and in so vastlie better right or title.

Th' comedie that I nam'd here is entituled somewhat
boldlie, Solomon the Second. I am myselfe represented
by him, th' seeker in the depth of learning, appall'd at th'
daring of mine almost unpremeditated plunge but like that

92 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

antient heroe^ asking still for light to go on in my quest.
Much of this is in my play of altogether different kind but
not more suited in th' young hero of th' one, in my think-
ing, then in the second which hath th' ending soe happy
that it can, in right, have mention as one quite pleasing, if
not th' best among my comedies.

Herein is a short historie of it that will assist verie much
in the task of bringing the play together as seen in all I
have done. Th' scene oft is chang'd, yet the first is Gor-
hambury: time early morne; day shewing faintlie in th'
sky and low lights burning, partlie revealing a scroll, a
penne, an ink-stande, many bookes having the leaves
turned by a wind very softly comming in at th' caseme't.

My foster-father standing by me thus spake: "Tell me,
my Salamon, wilt thou embrace thy fatheres precepts
graven in thy heart " with some of the following lines
where the answer that I gave will also be found. After
his exit is the soliloquy.

The next scene openeth on th' faraway sea-coast duely
putting my numerous devices into immediate examination,
making many enquiries in th' fielde of nature concearning
hidden things, beginning thus my Sylva Sylvaru' not yet
fmish'd.

Th' next in my owne chamber a second time, in con-
verse, earnest and impassioned, with my mother persewing
a similar theame.

The fourth scene is in a publique hall, where one of the
earliest of my dramas is on this poore stage. Half my
heart goes out after fame, while half still longes, as hath
justly approv'd itself e by th' foregoing scene, after greater
or fuler truth, free from doubt or suspect.

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 93

To leave a true record of th' chiefe incidents of th'
raigne of my mother, Queene Elizabeth, which for various
reasons required secrecy, manie were my devices so skill-
fullie brought forth that all escapt notice, simple as many
o' them are, and as th' play is supos'd to bee that of Chris-
t'pher Marley, much secret matte' doth masque i' th' play.
Seeing th' good favour it doth win, my plan doth at once
put forth such compleate forme that I no longer ask
myselfe a question, but carrie forwards th' many dramas
in much hast.

The second act doth give the resulte, many of the
authors, soe call'd, appeas'd by th' balm of gold when the
plays were thought of noe valew, disputing fiercely when
beholders aplaud, each claymeing the author, his lawrells.
In these scenes is much wit ingaged^ many songs shall also
bee used therein making th' action light and joviall. Place,
where th' remayni'g acts transpire, is London.

Those jests of Geo. Peele have place in acts twoo, three,
part o' four (th' first portion) and a small part o' th' final]
act. In scene two, act four, diverse strange acts by experi-
ments in magicke are seene, for which the discyph'rer shal
seeke in many places, chiefly in that youthly production
which was entitul'd Friar Bacon and-so-forth. To this
add a play that is entitled George-a-Greene and one named
Faustus (to write these comicke see's) the David, as hath
beene said, with two of the Shakespeare plaies Henrie
Fift, with th' Taming o' th' Shrew.

You will not finde this as oppressive as th' tragedy. Th'
wittie speakers are more cheering [than] those statelier
ladies or gentlemen of that early time, for various reasons,
and a spirit of moving mirth informs each scene. *

ISTow are your working keis ready for th' decyphering,

94 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

and if a rule long since conceal'd in the former publica-
tions is well coii'd, I thinke it may ere many weeks come
forth t' th' light. I will however, repeate heere, much of
th' necessary rule and th' cheefe plannes, soe that clear
notions may greatly ayd our inve'tio'. This doth some-
what resemble a stone structure, or many, like as o' severall
varieties, this red sand-stone, that granite, divers o' noth-
ing but th' common stones o' th' field, yet all so arrang'd,
so fitted for the intend' spaces, that no mistake doth seeme
probable. The keie-words that are given, are to signify
into which especiall structure th' numerous hewen stones
are to bee built. The joining-words you see repeated so
frequently, marke the portions which are to bee joyned
together in th' perfect whole, .even as in the modell.

It doth not rest with the stone-mason to shape or invent
his planne, this is prepar'd to his use, so in this my tem-
ple, the model hath not fayl'd to limne as bold a designe,
which th' decyphere' must dutifullie, and with patience,
bring to perfection.

In several works I have giv'n rules, example to ayde
you, keyes, various arguments, abridgments like to that
given above, soe that my decypherer may write this- as
easilie as any other work ca' be accomplished.

In preparing th' portio's, they were separated by th'
keyes that wil bring them againe to place, and as hath
beene oft mentioned, this will set decipherers on their way;
but th' joining-words must be found to match the parts
togather. Begin at once, and doe not turne from th' taske
I have assign'd you untill the whole be finished.

In order to present the greatest number o' poemes to th'
people of our time, while in this work, it may be made
som'what easier in such portion' of this history as are not

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 95

of secret subjects; and in many such I finde it possible to
use large parts in one place. Furthermore (e) th' work,
becam' very ple'sing to such a degre that I conceal'd mat-
ters most commonplace, and hannefull truly to none, I
may say. One intends a lesson in Christian doctri'e,
shewing out clearlie God's purpose, in the passion of the
Christ. TV moderne poeme, working like a consenting o'
human to th' Divine minde, soe followeth the ancient story
that th' very spirit of a time farre past doth informe the
whole. However, writing it in a secret manner had for
its chief e object the use of an invention I greatlie wished
to make th' best in use to transmit most wort-hie subjects.
Being easy to insert, not hunted or recognis'd soe readily,
the new Cypher hath requir'd les of patience and giv'n
more ple'sure then others.

If for my owne hidden story this now in your use lefte
a doubt as to th' suspition' which rise within th' minde that
the mater m.'gll be dangerous, I have as you 'know, from
time to time, writte' such thinges in this also as were not
secret, neythe' important; but The Pastorall is of -worth,
of interest to the whole world, and no one should think th'
worke put on this is (is) not wel spent.

The story is to work on carefree, idole, and many times
youthfull and unthinking ones who might like the story in
poetry, if of melody and power, so stirri'g th' heart that it
will seeme like to musick lightly stealing hither fro' th'
courts of th' sky. Wise men, too, may find this story in
its new forme goodly reading.

You need not soe much ayde to decypher a work like
this, for th' whole story is as it is related in the Holy
Scripture. Five stanzos in Spenser give a planne, or model

96 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

of th' poeme, forming a prologue. Noe other being neces-
sary, th' keies may now bee deciphered. * * *

These are my keies. With purposes most devout I put
forth this epick which hath for its theme a Divine Lord
and Master, made like to man, that a sin-cursed world
might be redeemed, and whylst my work is youthfull, in
everie waye, it is sav'd from th' puerilitie one might ex-
pect, by the hight th' subject, in its exalted, divine char-
acter, still sustaineth in prose and poetry.

It is in its nature farre above that forme which would
expresse it, and as th' mighty musicke of the sea when
uplifted by winde soundeth loud, though wind be soon
stay'd, so my poeme maketh a load sound that doth come
home to men's bosoms, albeit moved by a passing breath.
The life of the man who was the living God, doth shew
what all life might be, in unselfish ministry to th' worldes
needes. It is -given to every man who will inquire of a
Heavenlie Habbi regarding these things, as it hath beene
given myself e to knowe what the power within, His spirit,
hath come into this world to do. ISTone, I think, would
make th' old plea that fate or chance doth control his owne
nature, yet must hee owne some poAver that doth sway
men's hearts and that holdeth our existence, the issues of
life, in time which is now, and is to be.

I, myselfe, am assured that to labour continually tho'
nere bringing in my ripe'd grain, is *ny imposed taske.
The only worke that I have completed, is concealed in
Cypher which awaiteth another hand then this to bring it
forth, as you know, and I am loath to shut its portalls.

Oft I ask vainlie who will 'bee so endowed that none
other can winne him from my work, since the most are so
lacking in sufficient perseverance, that no severe or weary-

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 97

some taske is ere concluded. Some few think it disgrace-
ful for men who boast godlike abilitie to give ore their hunt
ere winning some trophic, yet their triumphes are not
certaine. Soe weake and inconsta't is judgment, when
thinges not familiar be submitted, first wondering much
that there should be anything to be found out, then on the
othe' side, marveling to thinke that th' world had soe long
gone by without seeing it.

But as floodes sweepe awaie such things as bee of light
waight, leaving along the course heavy bodies, metals or
rookie masses, in like manner the thinges which have suffi-
cient waight when borne on downe the great River o' Time
shall soone be found preserv'd fro' waters, although ofte
very farre dista't, perchance, and amid newe scenes. At
that time, sooner or later, my triumph must thrill my
heart, for long hath the labour beene, and ofte difficile.
The future may thus in a measure make good the past, so
that I shal, perchance, recover [somewhat] with th' gener-
ations that are to come. Th' hope maketh my work lesse
heavy and m' heart lesse sadde.

A play, which I am at present writing engaged upon,
is entitled, because of the sweete lady who is the most
important person of all having beene therein repre-
se'ted, Th' White Rose o' Britaine. A large portion of
the aforesaid is in that unfinished History of King Henry
Sev'nth. It is prose chiefely. Th' parts which I intended
to have versified doe make up such an important part of
that great historic th' taske would have bin a difficile one,
yet in manie written at an earlier date I have some large
portions in both forms. This hath made my owne work
greater, Jbut hath in nowise made my decypherer's lesse,
inasmuch as the changes had againe to be made by him-

98 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

selfe while engaged in the deciphering, but vice versa.
In example, if I have made the interio' epistle poetrie and
the exterior not soe, hee must versifie, but if th' interiour
be in prose and the exterior in verse his taske is light; if
both be the same it is easy both to read and write.

The keies will not be given untill th' history mentioned
be finish'd but when he doth see the name o' Ladie
Kath'rin-e Gordon in any of my workes, he may know that
I speake of her, th' daughter of a nobleman of Scotland,
mine Earle o' Huntley, by King Henry th' Sevent
named White Rose of Brittaine, giving to her beautie th'
titl'e assum'd by her husband, th' pretended Duke o' Yorke.

She was in truth verie sweete and faire in forme and
feature, gracing the name hee, dishonouring, speedilie lost.
Her wifely devotion to th' false Duke, hath made many
tender and most saddening scenes in the play. It winneth,
also, much loVe and honor, and a wondering admiration,
her heart shewing great strength and constancy.

If God doth grant me a long life so to complete these
varied labours, it shall bee well for th' world, since I am
seeking not my owne honour, but th' honor and advance-
ment, th' dignitie and enduring good of all mankinde.

The discipherer may finde it strange I write th' history
o' Henry the Seventh both as a play, for purposes of my
Cypher, and as a prose worke to publish openly, but it
may bee understood at some future day farre or neare.
The reason will then approve (i) itselfe, for a play should
make a linke in this ehaine and the history mention'd was
requir'd by the King.

Secret matters do not make up these interiour epistles,
in many cases. Th' evidence such plays give^of being
from th' brayne of one who hath for manie yeares made

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 99

himself acquainted with th' formes and th' methode or
art of this dramaticke or representative poetry, maketh
also my claime to o.ther workes, which have beene publisht
in various names, undeniable. The worke despight a
variety of styles, is mine owne.

Manie will not thinke the masque a perfecte vizard, in-
asmuch as a keene, sharp eye might possibly at some time
have scene my features beneath it, yet it hath (ath) oc-
curr'd so seldome nothing hath it endanger'd my secret
which th' Cypher doth herein conceale, as 't hath ever a
strong safeguard. Divided many, many times and freely
scatter'd into my divers playes, prose writings, or poemes,
truly no eye is so wel-seeing or strong it could -pursue a
thread so fine without th' Qu.

Th' keie-words so ofte mention'd are not noted by any
save one wel-instructed in th' Cyphers which have beene
consta'tlie employ'd in my worke. Even 'in the lesser
Cyphers I have so shifted the course of all these stories
that some must have turn'd aside.

I' th' King Henry the Seventh you shall finde some por-
tions to co'plete that plaie, but King Henry Eight is also
requir'd, with Richard. Of most historicall plays note
one mark'd pointe or feature. Some likenesse or paralell
is to bee observed in them, also th' events of one raigne
seeme link'd to those of time that precedeth or doth fol-
lowe, as seene in such as I have sent forth from time t'
time, for the purposes of my Cypher.

The part in Richard [is] of so mark'd purpose, some
might suppose a keye might not bee requir'd, but his wit
would not be sufficient to put the portions where each doth
belong when found, soe that little can be accomplish'd, as
may bee seene; neyther would ought of secret Court mat-

100 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

ters ever bee so exposed in print nor ev'n personall his-
torie as that in th' Cypher epistles cannot even yet have
th' disguise torne harshelie off. Danger might shewe
a head.

Th' play, of which I have given the title, is not soe
pleasing as it might be with sweete Katherine Gordon's
love scenes, and th' Duke's happy songs of the gaiety of
th' princely Court of England, but since all this may be
seene to be a part of another play, it will bee thought well
when completed that I robb Henry th' Sevent to add a
grace to my White Rose. Of this I leave posteritie to
judge, confident of th' decision whe' they shall both bee
discyphered.

I am in good hope, ev'n yet, I may see this work com-
pleted in my owne mortall life, yet voyces sound to th'
eare making th' prophesy, manie times repeated here as
you probablie know, of a long future and of a land that is
very far off. But for th' hope of a future, how could we
bear the heat and burden o' th' daie. In my heart th'
whispers of hope thus have long made a sweete song in
th' night, that is more glad and joyous then anie love hath
sung.

All th' promises of th' world's glory and th' opportuni-
tie to acquire gre't learning have sometimes made havocke
within my minde, for I have yearn'd for th' honour that
would now come to me if I had not, as you knewe long
since, I thinke, beene cut off by th' whim of my roiall
mother fro' princely station, shut from hope, then, or in
naturall sequence of time and events, of succeeding to
th' throne. By lawe th' kingdome should goe directly to
th' first borne sonne. How right and Divine justice, hav-
ing beene controled by a woman's unyeelding spirit, suf-

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 101

fer'd a change, is made cleare and evident heerein. Much
of historie thus recorded will bee strange to every eye, yet
it is soe true that it can but bring convictio' to all who
reade. Th' principall Cypher is emploied for this, nor
shall our worke thrive well if it bee not throughlie dis-
cypher'd.

Some might not trust a labour of yeeres to oblivio', and
hope that it may one day be summon'd to take upon 't,
one happy sunlit morning, its owne forme; yet doth some
thought upholde me, so hopefully my hart doth cling to
its last desire, I write on each "Resurgam," beleeving
they shall, ev'n like man, arise from the dust to rejoyce
againe in newnesse of life. In order to make this most
complete assurance I sliall emploie other methodes since
wee see that in miracle-working nought was done without
meanes and note the result, having prepared alphabets
of Latine letters soe that everie word may be used in pre-
faces, in running titles, prologues et csetera. Sometime I
intende th' use of these dotted letters as a Cypher-planne,
compleate in itselfe, rathe' then a meere shift to confuse
the decypherer. Th' latter I purpose using first in my
history not yet finished, the other I wish to employ i' th'
plaies whe' republisht.

So few can bee put forth as first written without a
slighte revision, and many new being also made ready, my
penne hath little or noe rest. I am speaking of those
plaies that were suppos'd Win. Shakespeare's. If these
should be pass'd over and none should discerne th' secret
epistles, I must needs make alphabets shewing th' manner
of employing th' Cyp'er. However, I shall use letters that
differ from th' type I heere emploie, not wishing, at pres-
ent, to give a device that hath caused so manie sleepelesse

102 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

nights and such troubled dales, freely, even as one would
tell the meaning of a riddle to a child, o' solve some school-
boy's problems.

I have shewne some wit heerein. Let him that would
be a discypherer do the same and win the prize by strife,
if indeed at all.

When I first unburdened my heart o' th' story in this
waye, I had co'stantlie much o' feare lest my secret bee
s'ented forth by some hound o' Queene Elizabeth; my life
might paye th' forfeit and the world be no wiser then
before. But that danger is past long ere now and nought
but the jealousy of the King is to bee feared, and that
more in dread of effecte on the hearts of the people, then
any feare of th' presentation of my "claime, knowing as he
doth, that all witnesses are dead and the requir'd docu-
ments destroy'd.

Naturallie it must cause some i'quiry within the minde
as to my intended course or what it would be like to bring
to pass, for 'tis true that his clayme would ranke second
onely to Elizabeth's issue. It must give some little pause
to his mounting thoughts when his realme hath a claimant
in th' aforesaid issue.

For this worthie reason the secret should bee kept
within th' hearts of th' men who will hold it sacredly, even
as one doth a pledge. Future daies shall give th' world
my worke and I shall then be contente.

In my great Cipher you will se manie finished workes,
besides the two mention'd not quite ready fo' this now in
hand. As you know well, this must be done while it is
printing. No time doth slip by unoccupied, and everie
day hath its tasks. Without wearying of the selfe-assum'd
but as hath soe many a time i' th' Cypher epistles beene

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 103

noted essentiall labours, our hand will work untill
Death's blacke shadowe fall acrosse th' day.

The exteriour plays will bee the sure proofe, if such
proof e be necessary, that my word is th' truth; for no one
hath ability to write with greater ease then myselfe, yet
without much time spent on work [s] o difficult this should
be a number very much smaller. But one who thinketh
to rewrite my hidden matters, shall imploy his' time in
th' same way, or his work shall come somewhat behinde
mine in quantity.

When all shal be complete th' plays number thirteen.
Of th' histories I have already me'tioned, two are prose,
mostlie, i. e., a life of my brother who bore th' cognomen
Devereux, th' title, Earle o' Essex, that of Th' Raigne o'
King Henry the Sevent; but I, having scene it emploi'd
thus with very good effect, founde it very convenient here
in th' Cypher playes, since i' th' interiour play th' forme is
the same as that of th' exteriour, making my labours farre
easier.

For others, I have made use generally, as hath beene
said, of verse, employing the same as found in the plays
I have publish'd, but as many parts that appertayne to
such interiour plays have been chang'd into a prose forme
in th' fmish'd work, he who decyphers these should knowe
somewhat of th' manner of turning from one forme to th'
other. Th' White Rose, giveth a good experience in
labour of th' kind mention'd, but in both the others of
which wee now speake, hee shall see that it is requir'd of
him, even there, if all be put [in] order.

As there be two workes entitled th' Historic of R
Earle o' Essex, some of the key-words will bee seene to bee
similar, yet the parts are easily kept from confusion by th'

104 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

joining-wordes. They are alike dramaticall and historical!.
One, however, is a tragedy giving that awefull death that
still doth seeme fresh within my memory, as if no long
night-vigils, comming betweene longer dales of labour,
dull'd the quick sense. If it were noe longer past then
yesternight, it could no' come before mee more distinctly
then it, to-day, standeth forth, wringing my heart with
paine that never ceaseth by day or night. O (jod, Father
of all that dwell above or below, give blessed light from
Thy throne on high. Shed cleere radiance from Thine
owne glorie acrosse th' blacke night. No weary work can
close my heart's doors 'gainst a Heavenly Guest. Lift
Thou me up in gentle love and make Thy countenance to
shine upon me as of olde.

If it be decipher'd alreadie, it is reveal'd to my discy-
pherer that remorse doth make my griefe so bitter, for my
very life did hang on that thread, and by th' truth my
brother was attainte, yet faine would I now chose an hun-
dred shamefull deaths then ayde to send a brothe' into
Eternitie.

In this shall bee made cleare, in my owne history, for
my rightfull and true justification before the world. "Farre
off the day may be, yet in time here or hereafter, it shall
bee understood. Though sorrowe is my constant com-
panion now, joy shall come on that m'rning. Having
these hopes, then, though many a sorrowe smite mee, my
heart faileth not.

In th' Cypher history, everything relative t' th' actes
that can give truer conception o' th' whole, will bee as
freely set forth as all must be at the great Day -of Judg-
ment.

When one doth write with feare of betrayal, hee car-

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 105

rieth the historie brokenly; hee warily doth turne to some
other thought, not liking to appear occupied with a great
theame, nor to value his labours. The hidden historie is
somewhat like th' tortoise, that scarcely putt(t)eth his
head out o' th' shell but he endangereth th' whole body,
and my worke is lesse pleasi'g to write, or decypher, from
th' shifts of many sortes necessarie to preserve th' secret.

Th' principall history is, as you may suppose, my owne,
yet it is soe much mixt or twin'd into manie others herein
given, that it is a taske putting them together, as you per-
haps well know. The work will not be complete until!
my death. It may then fall short of many things I have
long desir'd to chrystalize, as might be said, in a solide,
unperishing rock. However, when Deathe shall cut short
my toyle, there should bee another to carry it forward that
it may lacke as little as possibl'. Th' labour shall be
lighter then mine hath ever bin.

Th' whole being of soe much worth, he cannot meetly
omit any, or, as hath many times [been] me'tion'd, will-
fully marre this planne save where for th' reasons knowne,
much repetition is employ'd, at first, in order to aford
many beginnings, so that the decypherer would most asur-
edly find a door of such size, of so inviting outside appear-
ance, he must, I doubt it not, enter to see what he perhaps
may discover. If he shall publish what is conceal'd herein,
let him winnowe it well; if he doeth it not the booke must
displease which should afford pleasure.

Manie might find this not like a well arrang'd work,
carefully plann'd throughout. Such an opinion might
rise from a slight knowledge of the design. I assure you
that anie who will patiently work out the whole hidden
history, minding well niy instructions, shal make much

106 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

progresse in th' knowledge that I desire to shewe him.
which sufficiently rewards his efforts. Atchieveme't is
itselfe a reward, yeelding sweetest renowme.

This of which I now am speaking, putteth the decy-
pherer in full possession of much knowledge he can in no
other way obtaine, not onely the unpublish'd history, but
newe meanes of transmitting, so that he may, himselfe,
communicate all kinds of messages, according to his will

and pleasure, and write "omnia per omnia," which indeed
is th' highest degree of such art thou'h fewe have attain'd
to soe unusuall knowledge for manie purposes. Any man
who hath a mind that hath not only power but a faculty
of invention, hath way of getting the humoures from his
bloud, for it allaieth paine, when distrust, discontentment
and secret woes, ills or wrongs one liketh not to speake
of, may mildly worke and clear; but wounds bleeding in-
wardly, may oft be the cause of ulcers yet more malignant,
or imposthumations sowing seeds of future ill. So this
Cypher shal be us'd to give my illes and tortured thoughts
expression, albeit it doth without doubte, seeme incredible
unto those that know not this principle that a man is
[more] refresh'd and cheer'd within the mind by profiting
in lesser matters, then by standi'g at a stay in greater.

'Tis not of others that I write soe much, as of experi-
ences uncommon, and I hope to most, impossible, but this
hath beene a me'nes of achievement of a labour for our
fellowes few could performe. If my selfishnesse hath im-
pell'd me more then was proper, I trust somewhat to
knowledge of like errors in their conducte; these teach
man to judge his brother leniently. A man must observe
all sortes of forme or ceremony in his oute' life, but the
heart hath its own freedome and hath no humane ruler.

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 107

However, himselfe is but meager end to a man's seeking
when it is made first and chiefe, soe also, is hee a poore
middle pointe, center and axis of least action. His soule
is little akin to things celestiall, if like th' earth he stand-
eth fast on his center, for things that have affinity with
th' heavens, move on th' center of another. If hee would
not be too earthy, akinne to th' dust, let him go forth in
quest of knowledge, sowe wide this true seede which may
beare fruit to give glad harvests in the Eones to come.

This Cypher doth tell our motiv's for a labour we com-
menc'd, long since, in so f arre, at least, as a man knoweth
them himselfe. "Pis lacke of some predominant wish, a
longing that putteth in order all others by its force, that
doth render th' heart hard t' sound, or t' finde; but our
predominant desire shew'd so plaine the greatest things,
and the least, in life, as it doth nowe seeme, and illes can-
not make the purpose weaker.

Long yeeres ago, when th' Cypher in use at th' pres-
e't, in th' workes we publish as those of authors that wee
nam'd some time past, togather with all publish'd with th'
name by which we are now known put upo' title pages,
gave such a good asurance that secrets of great valew
might safelie be entrusted to its keeping, strong wish to
make it soe carry our invention itself e, to other times, also,
made constante employment of it a necessitie. Although
the resolution grew ever stronger, 'tis a thing rare, as you
well know, this keeping of a purpose unalter'd through
every change of a man's life, so difficult as to seeme im-
possible; yet are we so firmly fix'd now in the resolve, it
would be impossible for us to yeeld it up.

In actus quartus, scena quinta, of the play entituled
Salomon th' Second, th' motif clearlie sheweth. Every

108 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

hart knoweth its owne bitter, and a strange' intenneddleth
not with its joy. As our story shall be fully decypher'd
you may understand twoo things that doe not appeare in
anie history written openlie, viz. Queene Elizabeth, her
secret union with th' Earle o' Leicester whylst confined in
London's Tower; also a story relative to early scandals, this
Queene's intercourse with Seymour, Admirall of England,
sent buzzing through all this realme. As a portion of this
history, th' other sad tale giving th' storie of the unwell-
come birth of the Queene's offspring, ourselfe, and Robt.,
late Earle of Essex, and also of. Ewe, may soone reveale
what is our wrong that did make a meanes securing pub-
lique triall of a waighty case, a necessity.

Our light hath burned lowe, the beames of morning
now burst upo' our longing gaze and put to flight the
black night's dragons of brooding gloom. For ourselfe
th' future bringeth surcease of sorrowe. Had we no secret
labours to performe, gladly would we listen for th' footfall
of Death, the somber herald; yet our wish is not as might
afford our own life pleasure, till it, our work, be compleate,
inasmuch as this is more trulie good and important, wee do
nothing doubt, then the works which our hand openlie
performeth.

Th' want o' truth in items our pare't had recorded,
would hold backe from th' world all true knowledge of this
leaf of her history which doth concerne other lives' destiny
nearly. . None write all that doth shew in our epistle; fewe

have seene the that would bee like proofes o' Holy

Writ; but of all which may by eythe' Cipher lend colour of
good or evill to characters here pourtray'd, wee can give
such confirmation as doth shut th' lips of those who still
ask: "How could these things bee?"

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 109

It must be said, however, in passi'g, that a number of
papers were seiz'd, and many have beene subsequentlie
destroyed, so that we could not wel lay clayme to th' scep-
ter, and establish it beyonde a doubt, ev'n whylst our
parents be known to be royall and honourable, being truely
wedded. Furthermore, being late, having like others who
have bin drawne two waies lost much time in deliberation,
th' face of our claime clouded, so that, questioning of
England's prosperity, we doubted our proper right to sever
Brittaine, fortunatelie united, but unfortunatelie king'd.

Love hath th' good of the dear object most at heart, and
with our true love of our kingdome on the one hand, there
was th' ability to rule wisely and to edify and build up th'
broken walls, on the other; also as hath beene mention'd
before, a firm persuasi'n in our owne mind that th' pow'r
of a soveraigne doth not shewe most in large domains, in
having more people, but ruling with equity. A king shall
be wise to bee great. Th' state is as th' sovereigne is; or
as th' prince is, ev'n so are the people.

With firm faith in simple justice for everie suitor, and
divers ways by which one end, one goale, is won, this our
desire hath slightly bent, or diverg'd, and turn'd upon
tracks not so well made, so that our object may some day
be attain'd, although fate haste to close th' doore of hope
o' entering upon our true right.

Bitter the portio' that was ours till our mounting spirit
rose above th' Styx that encircled us, as in th' under world;
Greeke poets have sung of the souls of ancie't heroes
hem'd round, [that] tasted its waters, standing breast high
in its blacke filth.

In the workes which appeare bearing our plaine name
on tli' title pages, this doth so manifest itselfe it needeth

110 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

not that wee pause to explaine. In th' early Essays and
Philosophicall Workes these purposes do stand forth so
plain, we thinke it is love's lost labour to point out the
designe. However this is otherwise in th' secret part, for
altho' our apparent designe must be our selfe-advancement,
none can holde that to be unpardonable in th' royall prince
whom destinie hath despoil'd in so great a degre. ,Th'
desire to leave the world true, unbias'd history, doth so
stirre and rouse our energies, that we doubt th' worst motif
chideth the best by no such question. Palliation of that
offence can bee found, and this long labor be awarded
the honor due this invention.

And also when our patient hand and penne, our un-
wearied worker, our discypherer, hath done the part our
devise imposeth on him, there shall not, we thinke, be any
minde that doth waigh things justly, ill or well suited as
the case may bee, that, seeing th' result of our labor, shall
finde faulte or speake lightlie of our simple planne which
may thus come forth in complete forme ev'n as created.

In th' beginning our Word Cypher is such as will be
decipher'd with most ease, after the designe shall bee fully
scene, and the entire planne well learned. It was in use
early. In many o' th' inventions this and all smaller
ones one booke, or at the most two or three, contained all
of a single worke. This is otherwise in our Word Cypher,
inasmuch as the hidden history extendeth through works
of numerous designes and kinds that have beene put out
from time to time for severall yeeres. All workes we pub-
lish'd under names, have some parts of the story, as hath
beene said, for our whole Cypher plan doth possesse one
feature much to be commended, that of perfecte safety.
A storie cannot be followed untill all shall be found.

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. HI

Th' different stories being placed therein as our work was
done, none can make an end untill th' links o' th' twisted
chaine bee follow'd, now into one booke, now into another,
as a river doth bende, or roads by manie tortuous waies,
wind by these countrey houses, for no historic hath ended
yet. None who began to reade this story, or worke out
these Cyphers, came to an end of anything, because no
part could be compleated untill all bee compleated. This
doth grow from the plann itself e, the fragments being kept
many long yeeres, small portions being used at one time,
sometimes in our Spenser's name, Marlowe's, Peele's and
Shakespeare's, anon Greene's, mine, also Ben Jonson's,
affording our diverse masques another colour, as 'twere, to
baffle all seekers, to which we shall add Burton's.

As harried beasts haste to th' shelter of a boskie knolle
when death seemes sure, soe doe wee, in danger, hide in
these woodie hills, safe as any conie 'mid the rocks.

This Cyphar will make the Word Cypher more plaine,
and it is chiefly in ayding its deciphering that all others that
have beene found do give some rules. It is our most im-
porta't Cypher, having th' complete story told therein, but
this, also, is of much use giving rules and instructions to
aide in our worke, and setti'g forth th' arguments of many
workes such as playes, poemes, that are onely the early
translated workes, mentioned some time ago, in th' bookes
wee published in divers names.

It will make known t' posteritie the reall cause, as one
moving in scenes that are thus given must surely under-
sta'd better than others, of that strange devotedness that
Queene Elizabeth manifested when my Lord of Essex ap-
peared, (soon pointing 1 to a much scorned sinne) more,
when knowne that th' newe favorite was by right a prince

112 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

who lov'd power more then ought upon earth. Also, led
as hee then was, many courtly matters or great affaires
were as puppet's gyrations or mad, jesting quips, winning
his notice little.

Most persons in my lord's liking, but least honoured,
who served honourably, however, in the forraine fighting,
will perhaps come under men's censure when the truth is
made knowne; whilst most of our Irish troopes found
they had not well understood th' intentions their leader
had cloaked in his owne high spirit or bold will. He found
simple and quite easy wayes of binding men to th' great
treasonable undertaking, by a representation which con-
tayn'd but a modified figure of truth. Men adventured
fortunes soe unthinkingly, that mine of their hope was
ruine against which nothing availed.

It cannot now alter th' fates of anie, high or lowe, if
the matter bee giv'n a full rendering as it is now found
herein; but our great struggles in the interesse of Earle
Eobert, have many most indisputed returnes ev'n as the
Holy Scripture saith: "With such measure as ye yourself e
doe mete it shall be ineted to you."

But other Cyphe' plays co'taine all our historie so truelie
recorded, our whole life can be seene spread like a map,
wherein th' winding course of many streames are limn'd
forthe. Longing to bee no more held unworthy, ac-
compted unfaithful of those whom wee honor'd, and, worst
of all ill that doth visit mortall, disregarded of posterity, it
doth barre us from houres of despayring melancholic, and
bringeth to th' minde a vision, so sweete and assuring, that
wee have found a great solace in our work even when writ-
ing th' story of our early life, or writing the harrowi'g exe-
cution scene of that deare Earle Kobt, or Prince Eobt. as

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 113

we should speake the name of that brother, since 'tis
well for us to make th' horror of that murther as familiar
as other sensations.

We mention this part of th' work frequently, because
there nowe is nothing as importante, or at th' least as much
talked of, as this event that was mildly pass'd over at
first, least our royall mother should worke us a worse ill.
Wee entreat th' decyphere by every arte of speech that
wee possesse to heede our request, and decypher th' play of
which wee speake ere the pleasure he hath felt in his taske
may disappeare. If this be done faithlesse men will not
jonge have th' daring to throw anie question of doubt upon
our conducte. "When all is knowne and understoode, there
will be nothing but approvall, where there was once harsh
judgement.

But of some little matters, appertaining rather to my-
selfe then others, th' decypherer may followe his owne
wishes. In our earliest play, is the happy spirrit of a
young boy, subdued slightlie by our future into whose
gloomie depths, plunging, wee tasted a bitternesse such as
they have tasted who drinke the waters of Styx.

When our owne worke hath beene compleated there will
still remaine many things for a discipherer to doe if hee
would winne reward. When our time shall come for our
farewell to earth and all its gifts of joy or paine, our work
must still proceed since our inve'tion is not yet discern'd.
Our hope, however, is still strong, and faileth not, that ere
long our story shall burst its cereme'ts and rise to make the
truth known of all men. Then must our name bee knowne
farre as man's foot hath trod, and that which hath beene
lost in th' present, may be recover'd in th' future.

114 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

A man's life consisteth not, as the Holy Scripture saith,
of eating or drinking but of that life which is within us,
perpetuall as the Creator of earth and the heavens, and hee
doth not cast off all care that he hath carried in his hart.
He leaveth behind him some kind of labour and that taketh
a hold upon th' future making ev'n th' life on this earth as
enduring as the globe itselfe. This is true onely as th'
labour shall bee a worthie one, that may well endure, for
such things of similar proprietie to stubble, doth burn as
hay and st'aw, and disappeare.

There is vanity and some pride i' th' noblest humane
heart, which drive his steps on in th' path he doth pursue,
and 'tis but nature. As when sunnelight maketh th' plant
growe upwar', so this light of nature driveth our shoots out
in profuse, farre-reaching vines. His fruit may not ripen
in his daye, and the taste may prove its quality unsavorie
when it shall be brought into th' bins, but his owne it is,
and it could afford none other ought of blame or prayse.

When you have fully decypher'd this, you will not at
once see our nexte worke, since 'tis publisht to co'ceale
matters of a private nature. You will find therein more
of our Word-Cipher. This to which you give th' greater
part of your time, if you followe th' directions wee have
hitherto imparted, is also emploied in it, having beene
given to convey instruction concerni'g our tra'slations. It
will co'taine large portions of all hidden epistles, for it is
our bin or th' granary into which the various kinds and
sortes gather'd are put awaiting the hands of th' sower,
who, as you knowe, is our owne well beloved discypherer.
Th' worke beareth the title of th' Anatomy of Melancholy
and will bee put forth by Burton.

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 115

With this are many of those Shakespeare plays wee will
^oone bring forth, for our work cannot be carried to com-
pletion without them. As wee have said many times, our
bookes containe these twoo Cyphers, soe when our discy-
pherer doth see anie works of ours, he knoweth at the first
cursory glance, it doth speak to him verie forc'bly and
make a plea for aide, that a prisoner may bee set free.
It shall well repaye his time, and his hart shall rejoice in
th' rich treasure that shall come to gladen and fill his
thoughts.

The matter is not at all times joyous but it is truth, in
which men are counselled always to rejoyce. In our
plaies, just spoken of as being in the name of a man not
living, there is still more of this secret historic. By fol-
lowi'g our good friend's advice we have not lost that maske
tho' our Shakespeare noe longer liveth, since twoo others,
fellowes of our play actor, who would, we doubt not,
publish those playes, would disguise our work as well.
This wil not, however, bee done untill a most auspicious
time.

Much work must be accomplished in a short time if
manie new plays should bee added which doth now seeme
desirable, inasmuch as it suiteth us farre better then prose
or a lighter verse, whilst it giveth more satisfaction to our
readers. Represented on our stage they give more pleas-
ure still, and yield their author much more, be it in gold,
or in honour, since th' theater is becoming more popular.

Our plaies are of diverse kindes, historic, comedie and
tragedie. Many are upon th' stage, but those already put
forth in Wm. Shakespeare's name, we doe nothing doubt,
have won a lasting fame, comedy, th' historick drama
and tragedy, are alike in favour. For this reason wee have

116 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

resolv'd to write in these formes, tho' tragoedie doth come
to th' sensiblest mindes mo' easily, because to such, high
and tragicall things are more suited then those that are
onely somewhat reall, yet much too nice and daintie, or
too crude, vile and unfit.

As for historicall drama, some principall and important
facts require gracing with such elegancies as wee see many
doe admire and praise. 'Tis th' changing and shifting
movement that doth catch the eye, and please the imagina-
tion, and plays of all kinds seeme manie times to give de-
light in th' action, which have lesse attracted us in our
study. Candidly speaking, it is better to consult men's
liking then their judgements, but writing truthfully, there
shall be no sacrifice here to hurt the sense or lose sight of
the ayme. Wrongs are expos'd, be they ours or others, and
ofte of unpleasantly plaine character. We stood close at
hand and saw thinges with cleare eie to write them in this
record, having desir'd with exceedi'g desire of the heart to
be giv'n a righteous judgment in matters of most import
and interest t' ourselfe, yet of worth, finally, to others,
inasmuch as there would bee without [it] noe true historic
left to other times.

This shall bee th' great work of this age. Its fame* shall
spread abroad to farthest lands beyonde th' sea and as th'
name of Fr. Bacon shall bee spoken, that of his disci-
pherer, joined with his owne, must receive equall honour,
too, when this invention doth receive reward. Hee it is,
our fellowe, who hath kepte at work despight manie a
temptation to give waie, as some doe.

With propheticke vision our eyes, looking into th'
future, see th' day that give' these Cypher histories life
and light. Glad must th' day be to all that helde our

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 117

story in closed bosomes that no harme should befall us.
Love, waki'g in fear, shall rejoice with untold joy. It is
a simple historic wee must owne, yet 'tis soe closelie inter-
woven with many more knowne and renowned it shineth
with reflex honour.

Let him not grow weary nor leave following our queast
if he would recover his rightes of reward. It needeth not
that our eies look on this worke in order that it should
come forth in the forme soe desired, nor that our hand
pointe out each step his feete must tread, for the divers
rules and directions leade him so that he shall not falt'r.

It may bee well now as we approach the end, to give
summaries of th' numerous workes which he will find in
Cypher, and the methodes wee have us'd, of the plays
we have not long since spoken in this place as thirteene in
number, five of which are nam'd as histories, five as his-
toricall tragoedies, three as comedies. Of all these, in one
work or another^ keies and arguments -may bee found to
aide the discypherer. Th' former are his indispensable
guides, the latter ayde him greatly to re-build these
broken, scattered pallaces.

Th' histories are not completed, at this writing, in their
exteriour masque. Comming latelie . into newe honours
and newe duties wee have, as may be suppos'd, written
much lease then formerly. AH interiour worke, neverthe-
lesse, is completed, and made ready for th' incorporation
into these divers works.

Th' titles of these plaies here follower The Life of Eliz-
abeth; The Life of Essex: The Life and Death of Edward
Third; The White Eosse of Brittaine; Th' Life of King
Henrie the Sevent; The Earle of Essex (my late brother);
Earle of Leicester (our late sire); The Life of Marlowe;

118 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

Anne Bullen; Mary Queene o' Scots; Th' Seven Wise
Men of the West; Solomon the Second; and The Mouse
Trap. Besides the playes, three noteworthie translations
are found in our workes, viz. Th' Iliad and Odyssey of
Homer, and the ^Eneid of Virgil, togather with a number
of lesser workes of this sort, and a few short poemes.
There is also the story, in verse, of th' Spanish Armada,
and th' story of my owne life. The last nam'd co'taineth
the wooeing of our owne dear love, this Marguerite of
these hidden love poemes, and the story of our misfor-
tune in France, the memory o' which yet lingers.

Wee have sometime found our other inventions of some
worth, in our worke, and we have spente occasionall idole
minutes making such maskes serve instead of the two
Cyphers so much us'd, for of soe many good inethodes of
speaking to the readers of our workes, wee must quite nat-
urally have a preference, and wee owne that the Word-
Cypher seemeth to. us superiour to all others wee have in-
vented. We have, however, devis'd six which wee have
us'd in a few of our bookes. These are the Bi-literall;
Wordd; Capital Letter; Time, or as more oft call'd Clocke;
Symbol!; and Anagrammaticke. The first, surely, needeth
noe explanation if our inve'tion have beene found out;
[it] demandeth fuller instructions, if it be still unseene;
a most cleare playne ensample shall make it stande forth
soe that hee who but runneth by shall reade. It doth re-
quire some fine worke of the tooles as well as of th' minde.

Next the great Cipher spoken of soe frequentlie,
tearm'd th' most importante invention, since 'tis of farre
greater scdpe, shall heere bee againe explained. More
rules and instructions are necessarie then were needed in

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 119

any of the others, but in the first work, only such as will
be readilie scene neede be sought. These now followe:

Keyes are used to pointe out the portions to be used in
this worke. These keies are words imploied in a naturall
and common wave, but are mark'd by capitalls, the paren-
these, or by frequent and unnecessarie iteration; yet all
these are given in the other Cypheres also making the de-
cipher's part lesse difficile.

Next assort carefully all th' matter thus obtained and
place it in boxes and drawers for timely use. There will,
with a little observation, bee discern'd wordes which are
repeatedly used in the same connection. These must bee
noted specially since they form our series of combining or
joyning wordes, which like the marks th' builder putteth
on the prepar'd blockes of stone shewing the place of each
in the finisht building, pointe out with unmistakable dis-
tinctnes its relation to all other parts. This will shewe the
necessitie of keeping everything ready and orderly.

As whilst writing these interior works these keies and
joining words did deter th' advancement, it shall work a
contrarie effecte on this part of th' designe, and th' part of
our ready decypherer is made easie for his hand, but his
sight shal accordinglie have neede to bee as th' sight of
th' keene-ey'd eagle, if hee would hunt this out, losing
nothing.

A part of our life relating and linking itselfe to another
in a marked degree, as no doubt you know, required more
time and studie then all the rest. Not onely was our
Queene-mother concern'd, whose life we have dulie set
forth in th' dramas mention'd, but one dearer, and as our
memorie doth painte her, fairer still then the fairest of our

120 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

English maydens, sweet traitresse tho' we should tearme
her, Marguerite our pearle of women.

In order to indicate clearly the parts belonging to our
early love story, wee emploi'd words to set off these por-
tions, using those wee have spoken of in a number of
Ciphers, such familiar and comon termes as th' mind and
every faculty or power, memorie, reason and-so-forth, also
heart with its affections, as wee tearme th' emotions or
passions slightly understood, th' spirit and soule. These
accompanying a key-word shewe that this portion belong-
eth to the part of my history I have just mentioned in this
waye. Th' same keies were employed and yet th' decy-
pherer shal finde his guides thus indicated so easily, it
would truely be difficile, as it doth appeare, to goe astray.

For other workes our joyning-words are cleare, or those
arguments so fully given, th' discyphering is onely a mat-
ter of time and patience, but this would surely not be
wanting in the man who hath worked out the Bi-literall
Cipher that doth require soe much.

In many places will there bee found instruction for the
discypherer and in divers waies, so that, fayling one, he
should see others, as hath noe doubt beene discov'r'd since
this Bi-literall Cypher hath made everything cleare, shew-
ing the workes that joyne, and giving ayde as often as it
may bee requir'd. The designe, however, being so com-
pleat it should seeme a thing that men of keene eyes and
quick rninde may discover readily and pursue with ease.

Of my devices nothing excells that of th' employment
of words in common use to direct our decypherer. Tables
should contayne all such because no man's memorie can
long retayne such a number of words; but all will clearlie
see how great' an advantage it must bee to bee able to

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 121

masque all our divers pen names in common tearmes, so
iiaturallie, that not a man of common intelligence will sus-
pect the presence of anything of a secret nature.

The preparation and distribution of th' Cypher wordes
required much time and this time was soon at my disposi-
tion. Th' numerous works that will be sent forth, soone,
will prove the truth of my assertion of a ceaselesse indus-
try and an unflagginge zeale. No one living in the midst
o' th' tumults and distractions which are found in our great
townes could (could) better hold to a purpose, but a few
years younger, in truth, then I, for it stirred within me
when I first was told of my great birth, and tooke forme
shortly after that scene at th' Court of our mother which
led soe quickly to my be'ng sent to France in th' company
and care of Sir Amy as Paulet. It waighed on me con-
sta'tly, untill I devis'd a wave by which I could communi-
cate this strange thing to th' world, as you know, and my
restlesse minde unsatisfied with one or two good Cyphers,
continually made triall of new contrivances, in order to
write the true story fully, that wrongs of this age bee made
right in another.

As my work hath beene, from my earlie youth untill of
late, one of unflagging intereste, I have made great pro-
gresse in Cypher-writing, finding it pleasing at first, I
may say manie times mildlie exciting. But one must
wearie of th' one now in employment on accompt o' th'
unchangeablenesse of the worke, for variety is almost im-
possibl' to this kinde of Cyphar, and nothing availeth to
applie witty invention in this wave, if it bee not clearly
shewn, for without helpe th' most constant of discypherers
must finde many shifts weariesome, as it must require more
attention, and therefore some of my labour may be hidden
inost compleatly from every eye.

122 , BI-LITERAL, CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Whilst it is th' object of such work, in its nature and
use, none could suppose I desir'd this to be soe conceal'd
that no future discypherer may lift the vayle from my
secret. If that should occur, numerous devices which
have grown in many directions, this waie and that, but
secretlie, and like a root turning in th' soyle as it extend-
eth, have a grave in my work where I thought onlie of
giving hiding for a little. Life is too precious, its dayes
too fleeting, to be so used if noe time should ever come to
roll away from th' door of th' sepulcher this great stone.

It is not easie to reveal secrets at th' same time that a
Avail to guard them is built, but this hath beene attempted,
how successfull it shal be, I know not, for tho' wel con-
trived so no one has found it, the cleere assurance cometh
onely in th' dreemes and visions of th' night, of a time
when the secret shall bee fully reveal'd. That it shall not
be now, and that it shall be then that it shall be kept
from all eyes in my owne time, to bee scene at some future
daye, however distante is my care, my studie.

With manie things in hand, now, I devote somewhat less
of my time to Cyphers, and had I not in th' Cypher, giy'n
my good assistant promise of many little things to aide
him, this should not continue. Since the part which doth
containe the storie of my birth is one I cannot have lost,
it is frequently giv'n.

Th' directions to th' decipherer oft occur, for it cannot
bee that hee doth decypher everything I write, yet if but a
part be done, it would bee sufficient, doubtlesse, to reveale
th' history; but I must strive to soe double th' rules as I
write, that no failure shall bee possible. At the first, as-
sur'd that th' interesse doth increase each houre, change to
matter lesse personall, led would-be delvers o' hidden secret
matter, to followe noe longer.

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 123

STo doubt my wanderings much resemble the chatter a
senseless creature of Caliban's temper and nature might
give out if hee were to speak in a secret manner, but such
is my designe. And it hath so well preserv'd my historie
for many yeares fro' th' sight of inquiri'g eyes, that it
seemeth at last necessarie, and but little danger doth lurk
in th' revelation, to put forth a full treatise on my wor-
thie Cyphars to shew that to use all ordinarie methods of
giving one's message to th' world suficeth not, if one wish
to pick out and choose his owne readers.

Therefore there is soone to bee a little work which shall
set cleerlie forth these artes that have held many, many a
secret from my times to carry it on [to] th' great future.
If there bee none to decipher it at length, how many weary
days will have beene lost; yet such is the constancy of
hope in our brests we hold to th' work without rest,,
firmly trusti'g that coming times and th' future men of
our owne, and other lands, shall at last rewarde these
labours as they soe manifestly shall deserve.

Though it shal not happen in mine owne day, this assur-
ance that it cannot fail to come forth in due time, maketh
weary labour lesse tiresome. It is noe doubt long to wait r
but whatever should have beene ordain'd by that Supreme
Governour of our lives doth give such a satisfaction, it
doth fully sustaine and succour th' heart, so that it sur-
mounteth all fears. If some call it vanitie, I must make th'
wise man, his timely replie, for all things upon earth are
truelie vanitie, and the spirit thereby is vext.

What remaineth to man at th' last of all this labour and
care? Ought? Shall he leave the dearest labours, th'
great designes, th' marvayles that he hath wrought, and
beare from hence to that new life a memory onely, or, it

124 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

may be, even Jesse? Must hee loose his hold upon all
earthlie objects to take hold on that that is eternal? Must
hee part from all and leave all? Ay; and yet, if his arts
survive 'tis wel as hee can naturallie wish.

If hee may have knowledge, when th' last long night of
death oppresseth him, seeling the eyes and shutting from
him the blessed light of day, that the things that he loved
died not also, it wil not bee utter losse, utter oblivyon.
Shall not his soule live after him? Surely; nor can you
or I have that farre sight that looketh into the future, and
we knowe that by the Divine wisdome of the Ruler Su-
preme, 'tis soe ordain'd. But one thing may serve well
when we take departure, and that is, to leave many and
widelie varied work'; it could not bee that nought could
bee .sav'd from a vast quantitie, and ought th' hand can
produce shall have a greater worth at such a distant daie.

With many a wish in my minde for honours, successe,
approvall, I put these things away, as th' Saviour put Satan
behind him, and do not for a moment alter my fixt deter-
mination to make good this time, and this labour, at some
future day. But of this I have spoken so many times
already, I fear that my patient, but not super-humane as-
sistant may have become awearie, and have giv'n over th'
pursuite of this strangely hidd'n story.

It might surely bee lease tiresome to him if my story
might be made cleare in a single worke, but there would
have bin such danger, in soe writing out my secret, it
would but bee well commenced before it would work my
ruine. For the good of all these companions who have
follow'd my fortunes in th' shifting, changing scenes at
th' Court, and elsewhere, as well as for my advantage, I
strive to continue th' history; yet duties of office do rarelie

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 125

permit me to doe much with this work, which will ac-
compte for a few of th' mistakes that have occurrM.

But, truth to say, severall of the plays that I am about
to put forth are yet incomplete, and I am, too, much occu-
pied with a work on the life of my m'ternall great grande-
f ather, which doth include most of my Cypher plaie, The
White Rose of Brittaine. Many earlier plaies are to bee
somewhat alter'd in order to have some portiones of my
historic put into th' Cypher. 'Tis of th' great key-word
Cyphar of which I am speaking, chiefe of these inve'tions,
for by th' use of it, I may make a work of beautie, as you
know, while some of these being of such [nature] that
they are not easily kept in minde are easily overlookt like
the way of ships on the ocean.

But by no other then this, which I hope you are at pres-
ent following, doth anie epistle continue in our worke
without change. If I wish to make such a triall of my
work as must occasio'ally be done, you can doubtleese
understand it requireth onely a few dayes to make th' ex-
periment. With a little time and patience, therefore, I
can easily finde what th' epistle is.

In many I have plact rules and instructions but in some
parts I have written th' thoughts haunting my hour of
rest. If th' decypherer is to finde out th' rules, each part
must convey to him a secret message. If it shall not be
found in every part. I could have little assurance of any of
my epistles coming forth, since no one might accidentally
come upon widely scatter'd fragments.

Bi-literall Cypher is unlike others in respect to this, for
while it doth change the subjectes more frequently than
anie other, its course is continuous. If my owne storie
be written out fullv and all rules and instructions for a

126 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

decyph'rer in th' other inventions be made out, it may then
be left til such other decyphering shall have beene finished
as hath beene most frequently mentioned, taking care in
no case, or for noe reaso' of lesse value, in fact then mat-
ters of prime importance, [to] let anything distract your
minde.

And if since making the discoverie of this that is here
used there have beene found many an exhortatio' fervent-
lie beseeching you to continue your labours, consider these
doubled. I, [ay] let this great number bee so increast
that it cannot bee forgotten, that th' cheef e of all my in-
ventions is the key-word Cypher. Therefore I wish to
have it given first, and most, of your time after this worke
shall have come to an end.

Whilst it is true regarding that Cypher of which I speak,
much must yet be written, and that none can learn how to
decypher it till full instructio's may bee found, I am giv-
ing great attention to th' completion of severall plays that
containe all th' instructio's, time will not permit the
great catalogue to swell to much greater proportio's; but
'tis trulie colossall already, and doth approove my tirelesse
spirit. The work hath occupied so much time, it is more
as a habit than a matter of free choice but for other
good and well set forth purposes this work hath soe con-
tinued.

Also new devices were to have beene made plain, but
the complete illustration of these artes sh'll be found in
some later work, for it hath given me no little ple'sure in
the imploiment of these contrivances, knowi'g so much of
th' Cypher would no doubt be a sealed booke, even to the
decypherer of the first partes. And no decypherer will
make of this a cause o' complainte, for it affordeth to him

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 127

a newe mysterie and the minde of man ever doth rejoice
most in that forme of search that hath a relish of the chase
therein. Therefore, whilst I am still in very good hope
that my last contrivance is not solv'd, noe feeling of anie
sort, save kindlinesse, is in my soule toward my decy-
pherer.

If he discov'r the key of my newe invention, himself e,
before it bee explain' d, it shall redound to his credit. Much
as hath beene the case in all discoveries worthy of note
since man's creation, this may furnish him soe much de-
lighte, whilst it doth occupie his minde, that time shall
seeme short. In my History of Henry Seventh this shall
all bee explain'd.

But as I doe not accompte th' time wasted which one
may soe imploy, soe difficult is my taske of publishing my
plays under th' name of one who hath departed, manie
being out already, but an almost equall number new, that
much of my thought in leasure houres is upon the questio'
how it may bee done. For the purposes of the Cypher it
is requir'd that no alteratio' be made, for that manner that
I have adopted shewing different workes by common words
must not suffer unnecessarie change. The discipherer will
doubtlesse need all the assistance which can thus be
giv'n nor could I now so alter the new, without making a
correspo'sive change in that now in print, a thing soe
nearly impossible as to be out of all questio'.

Taking carefull thought of these conditions, I have
made choyce already of meanes to give great ayde to a dis-
cypherer, while no doubte of the matter or motive is prob-
able. To make use still of many masking names at th'
same time, without some way of instructing my discy-
pherer, might resulte in the losse of more labour at length

128 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

then I have yet expended. It openeth a new invention in
a place well occupied, as shall be seen, with one little
pe'ceyv'd.

It cannot bee that bread which is cast on waters taketh
othe' then a cours' that is intended. How might it then
give promise that shall requite all who soe obey th' holy
teaching found in God's sacred Word? "Caste thy bread,"
thus it saith, "upon those surges." Ay, soe must ye doe,
if yee would have it back once more when many dayes and
moneths, I, [ay] and long, long yeeres are swept into the
abyss of eternity.

Without one question, then, my owne hand must send
foorth upon the wast of waters, fruit and nourishing
boughes from fruit-bearing gardenes, that one finding so
rich and abundant harvest, may trace them backewards as
hath already beene mentioned, to this garden of mine
wherein all have come to perfection of rondnes.

'Tis my Cypher that is now my constant and more im-
portant labour yet 'tis so much to the banishment of care
it might well bee thought lesse for one's personall busi-
nesse, then as th' unbending spirit to these amusements,
as it must bee knowne to my decypherer such a thought
doth sort with my wishes and in this fortunate misunder-
sta'di'g doe I owe the safetie of my work.

It is not so difficile to keep a secret while it shall bee
unsuspected because none turneth over so much, bookes
that seeme to have but a simple and single method of im-
parting his thoughtes, or th' results of his experiments ; but
if once the booke hath an ayre of mystery, noe secret can
bee secure and safe in such keeping.

I thought not, however, to make a device so compleate
as my most worthy Bi-literall has now proven, and its com-
pletenesse may make it very difficult to shew forth this

IN NOVUM ORGANUM. 129

designe clearlie, yet at the same time guard the treasure
that it keepes. It certaynly requireth as much wit as th'
first inventio', though much lesse pleasure cometh therein.

It is so much in my minde that I speak thus oft about it,
and take my decypherer into confidence, as it were, which
doth shewe one of those strange weakenesses of soules in-
drawn, like mine, since it needeth noe proofe of the fact
that a demonstration would be wholly unnecessary if there
were anie man living in the world who could understand
these things here hidden; but I speake or write as if the
discypherer sat at my side to take part when requir'd in th'
deliberatio's. Many times I have a sense of my kinde com-
panion's presence, yet at the bottome of every other desire,
is a hope that this Cypher shall not have beene scene or
read when my summons shall come. Therefore tranquil-
lity is an impossible state, and I am torn betwixt feare that
it bee too well hid, and a desire to see all my devices for
transmitting this wondrous history, preserv'd and be-
que'th'd to a future generatio', undiscovYd.

The wish that none of my day may discover the Cypher
soe happily occupieth my owne thought, there is time for
hope to try her wing in that uppe' aire above th' skies,
where it is so clear and still th' evills of life are forgotten,
feare, for a time, conquer'd and co'fin'd. Will my part
in the task be anie the lesse a great benefite to mankind,
or a worthy monument to my own name, because secret?
'Tis the king, or prince if the stile do better please some
who are of co'viction that an uncrown'd soveraigne hath
no right to such a distinction, that speaketh, and it is
true history that will be herein related.

In th' Parasceve that followeth, a number of short tales
of th' life in our royall parent's reigne must be sought.

130 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

These have never yet beene put where th' discypherer's
arte would be of use, but royall power giveth a luster to
these quaint tales. Do not, pray, relinquish your work to
decypher others wherein fairer labour doth seeme to lie.
There are seasons for all to be brought foorth, as you shall
observe. Crowd nothi'g further when the discovery is
fully completed, I beg, till this and th' two other Cyphers
of which I have spoken most, have come to sight.

There may be a part of my tale concerning a Newe
Atlantis printed, a part onelie being used in the other
Cypher. It hath as yet bin in question, as I may say,
there having bin some plans in my minde which have
beeue, as we say, discuss'd throughly with deliberation,
weighing all the^o's, and manie con' s, to make it cleare
to myselfe what will be th' result. Will th' discypherer
be thereby really ayded and made joy full in a work
alreadie prepar'd for one folowing, from whom must be
requir'd more dutious, obedient, co'sta'cy of devotion of
all his powers then might naturallie bee expected? This
must ever continue unto my minde an open question, hap-
pily or otherwise, yet nightly is it allowed a triall.

But there must come lesse interessed judges to court.
Men cannot sit in judgement, to passe sentence, who wish
to adventure their fortunes both as plaintiffs, and on
defense; all are too much given to that self-love borne in
the hearts of weake mortalls. There can bee no correct
opinions given, if the judgement bee warpt or twisted, but
the man's wishes rule his minde; therefore, I say, the wis-
dome might bee question'd of anie decisions which I might
reach, or, when all hath beene said and done, I might
myselfe be no better pleased.

There are more such questions then can be answer d

EN NOVUM ORGANUM. 131

here in th' time that doth remaine, yet I beleeve my dis-
cypherer to be much accustomed to these debates, a
wordy musi'g, if this paradoxe will be more cleare. It
shall bee scene that to my minde the discypherer is th'
modest co'fessor, who listeneth behind a lattise to what I
do impart; and so discreet is he, a word doth nere circulate
which hath beene given to his eare.

Indeed he is to me a friend who can reach out his hand
across the abysm of the ages, and give such aide as none
present hath given, or in truth can give to me, in labour
of wondrous pow'r, inasmuch as herein is writ a history of
that most remarkable royale daughte' of the Tudors who
united qualities little esteem'd, to traits worthie of the'
soveraigne of soe important a nation as England Eliza-
beth, daughter of Henry the Eighth, and therefore th'
grandedaughter of him who was wise enough, or had such
wise counsel to guide him, that he established himselfe
upon the strongest claime, but with a prudent forethought,
learn'd from earlie experience, caste behind him that
enticing one of conquest.

If my title were given away too weakly, 'twas through
wisdome gained in part from the lesson that hee thus
earlie acquir'd, i. e. that kingdomes got by conquest may
be lost by the same. Without doubt I should repente
employement of such meanes when it became a necessity
to maynetain as large an army to holde th' power as to win
the same. JSTot being a souldier, though not whollie
oppos'd in my naturall temper to armes, I am well inclin'd
to knowledge, which is to my minde farre more satisfactory
then anie honours. It hath beene ere this very well said:
"A soldier's name doth live but an age, a scholar's unto
eternitv."

132 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

And paine which is surely th' constante attendant of
studies, better suiteth with this life then mirth and follies,
and hee that can say to pompes and vanities, "Tempt me
not," conquereth all other temptation. No one can sub-
due worldlie passions without most worthy demonstratio'
that power is beneath th' apparent morall weaknesse. 'Tis
to myselfe and my discypherer that I am now making this
confession, not to th' world, and it needeth not to saye to
one of his discernment, I speake to give some one beside
myselfe entrance to the Councell Chambe' of my heart.
True it must not weigh much, for 'tis th' restlesse heart
that is thus making frequent argume'ts with itselfe, ask-
'ing, with Pilate, "What is truth?"

By no meanes shall wordy arguments proove that one
who knoweth his birth is royall, but is barr'd from succes-
sion, can soe fix his thoughts on things of price, that there
are noe mome'ts of regret. The booke shall tell all. In
perfect trust, to you I bequeathe my labours.

FRANCIS BARON OF VERULAM.

IN THE PARASCEVE. 133

THE PARASCEVE.

Speculative thoughts doe still their owne unsure hope
relate, yet must I undoe the story of our times soe ofte
spoken of, tho' it is folly in a royale prince whose birth-
righte hath, like Esau's, bin given to another, to spend
his time in opposing the wrongs of his unblemished heart
to such as would jeere or laugh at his paine. There is one
in whom wee may not onelie confide with childlike faith
a spirit seldorne seene but upon whom we may put off a
worke too important to lye hidd'ii longer then necessarie.
This we neede not say is our unfaltering, ever constant,
decyph'rer.

In the' following pages, as we previously mentioned, will
this historie be co'tinued. Be faithfull till the last page
shall have beene reach'd. This Aphorisme somewhat
co'tayns of interesse, for it doth reveale to my faithful
friend the name I should beare. This is Tudor. Since
Elizabeth was my mother, 'tis my owne lawfull cognomen,
and by right my brow deserv'd th' rigoll, my body roabs of
purple. It is a truth little knowne, that these things were
not well understood, but none doubt witnesses and papers
of such a nature as those seen or heard co'cerning th' same.
In nine places is this told in some Cyphe' or other, that it
cannot well bee omitted. Indeed, if too many times seen,
this discreet and patient discypherer must make wise selec-
tion and leave that which hath previously beene work'd out,
but th' decipherer should omit none of the pages since it
is quite important that he should know what is co'tain'd in
everything published. This now sufficeth by waye of
directions. To resume a narratio' o' th' event of this secret
marriage.

134 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Whilst my mother, the Queene, lay prisoner in London
Tower she wedded the Earle, my father Robert Dudley
of whom it is suppos'd the young princesse had become so
enamor'd that, to produce a like passion in his heart a love
philter, which an assista't by some strategia administer'd,
was made. To such a tho't can I never set my seale, tho'
there be in my minde no doubt of her great fondnesse for
my youthfull, well-favor' d sire. They came into our world,
not th' same daie onelie, but the same houre. To the
phantasie soe abnormall as the Queene's, this was proofe of
destiny. It might perhaps be a questio' whether a Divine
foretho't determin'd all that grew from that acte. Some
would ascribe a part at Jeast to evill spiritts. Be that as
it may, one fact doth remaine, shee was wedded, as hath
beene said, and he that addresseth you in these various
Cyphers was borne a prince o' our mighty countrie. Now
must he humble the pride of his naturallie haughty spirit
to obey mandate of his inferiours, but mankind must
know, tho' this have come upon a prince of the realme
in former times, th' injustice is great we may say,
beyond all fortitude of mortal minde to endure.

Another sonne was in due time borne, whose spirit much
resembled, in th' maine qualities, that of our mere, but
who, by th' wish and request of our fathe' bore his Chris-
tian name, Robert. Hee, reared by Walter Devereux,
bore naturally that name, after a time coming into th'
titles of Earle o' Essex and of Ewe.

The desire of our father, who remain'd a simple Earle
although he was wedded to a reigni'g queene, was to make
these affairs so well understood that th' succession should
bee without a question. To our mother noe such measure
was pleasing. By no argument, how strong soever, might

IN THE PARASCEVE. 135

this concession he obtain'd, and after some time he was fayne
"to appeal the case for us directly to Parliament to procure
th' erowne to bee entail' d upo' Elizabeth and th' heyrs of
her body. He handled everiething with greatest measure,
as he did not presse to have th' acte penn'd by waye of anie
declaration of right, also avoiding to have th' same by a
new lawe or ordina'ce, but choosing a course between th'
two, by waye of sure establishment, under covert and
indifferent wordes, that th' inheritance of this erowne, as
hath been mention'd here, rest, remaine and abide in the
Queene, and as for limitation of th' entaile, he stopt with
heires of th' Queene's bodie, not sayinge the right heires,
thereby leavi'g it to the lawe to decide, so as the entayl
might rather seeme a favour to her Elizabeth and to
their children, then as intended disi'herison to th' House
of Stuart. It was in this waye th't it was framed, but
failed in effect on accompt of the ill-disposition of th'
Queene to open and free acknowledgme't of th' marriage.
But none could convince such a wayward -woman of th'
wisdome of that honorable course.

Yet I am perswaded we had wonne out, if her anger
agaynst the Earle our father who ventur'd on matrimony
with Dowager Countesse of Essex, assur'd no doubt it
would not bee declar'd illegall by our warie mother had
not outlived softer feelings. For in the presence o' sev-
erall that well knew to whom shee referr'd, when she was
ill in minde as in body, and th' councill askt her to name
th' king, shee reply'd, "It shall be noe rascall's sonne,"
and when they preas'd to know whom, said, "Send to

Scotland."

FRA. BARON OF VERULAM.

FKANCIS BACON.

HENRY THE SEVENTH.
1622.

As you are beginning now to decypher a most interest-
ing play, a portion of which doth concern my history, you
get in a newe maner keyes, or signes, anie eye not blinde
will only too truly note: or, indeed, not a newe Ciphe' but
th' first modified. I will, however, as much change my
newe, for what be most oft observ'd doff greatlie the ayde
and protection, reall and known, o' unfamiliaritie.

Marke t, f, c and e. See that in no place have th'
accents on a K at midle of th' front where this joyneth t'
th' uprighte, yet overturn'd it. Th' letter hath still only
such a use, in our modell or forme, as it might in or by
vertue of its form. But we do contrive t' make most pecu-
liar, artfull shiftes, that so much shelter our most evident
pretensions, it- is a subtler or swifter mind can followe us
then most men do possesse. Take care for all of our
accented letters, and do not bafHe us. That I, by curious,
noteworthie skill, so hide this secret, it fullie proveth t'
everybody of just temper, somewhat better then by words,
how much greate' valew th' inne' portions possesse then th'
part scene.

Bacon is to many only a great autho', quick with his
writi'g. None see or mark, in most cases, the plays, yet
i' imagination suppose the offendi'g scenick playes some
task a g'ild should naturalie do, not my rude invention.
I have produced four from ancie't Latine and Greeke.
Many such sorts burrie the works that I have said must
bee written soon. Your reall art, that may truly require

136

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 137

th' best of your time, is, however you meet m' requests,
thus of most acco'. It is a subtly plann'd Cipher that I
have us'd with a most free [hand] to cast off gloomie
reflexions.

You can marke these chang'd: capital IF, (?, L, D c,
small, as you alreadie have some time noted, is at present,
if unchanged by dots, in accorde with all, but b, d, g,
disti'ctly alter their stile. After they attach some marke,
all our letters (as if one ha' struck a gale) turn keel; a
then becometh b, and b, a. Your quick eie catches, soon,
all this that aids them greatly in working th' storie out in
full; but in so much of th' Cipher as is easilie follow'd, it
is too transparent. If, therefore, you finde it mo' trieth or
co'fuseth, seeke in a portio' of our historick works (in th'
Iamb) a law relating to th' double Cipher, as it, here,
would at once bee seen.

These are th' plays, which you shall yet find, that
Rawley would urge us to present, in the name you will
alwayes honor ere it shall receyv' th' lofty but worthie
title belonging t' it better, I doubte, then when our
story's written. The fact very surely proveth most fully
how much envie maketh home both i' a' elevated minde,
and in th' vulgar.

I am indeed by vertue of my birth, that royall, thoug'
grossly wrong'd son t' our most glorious, yet most faulty
I ca' find no stronger terms Queene Elizabeth, of th'
stocke that doughtie Edward truely renowned. O' such
stock Henries Eifth, Seventh and Eighth, historic battle
kings, came, like branches sent from the oakes. My true
name is not as in some backe pages it was giv'n, but Tudor.
Bacon was only foster parent to my early youth, yet was
as loving and kinde to me as to his owne sonne, carefull o'

138 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

my education, and even aspiring to my high advancement.
But to Mistresse Anne Bacon, ever quick with her sim-
pathie and wise to advise, do I owe a greater or warmer
gratitude, since she did much more truly and constant! ie
guard, guide, protecte and counsel! me.

Moreover, to her I do owe my life, for though she did
but rear me, not being, de facto, my mother, it was by her
intervention that the houre of nativitie did not witnesse
my death. Her Ma. would truly have put me away
privilie, but Mistresse Bacon, yearning ove' helplesse baby-
hood, saved me, having held ove' me a hand o' protectio'.
My attempts in after years to obtain my true, just and
indisputable title of Prince o' Wales, heire-apparent to th'
throne, must not however bee thought or supposed to indi-
cate that I held myselfe disinteressed o' these obligations,
offer' d affronte to these kind benefactors, or in any waye
conducted myselfe in such manner as would either cast
reflexio's upo' my breeding, or doe discredit to my birth.
It may clearly be seen that it was but the most common-
place of ideas an actio' barelie ambitious, because 'twas
simply naturall. But it fail'd most sadly, for th' would-
bee Virgin Queene, with promptnesse, (not liking our peo-
ple's hearts to be set upon a king) before my A, B, 6"*,
even, were taught to me, or th' elements of all learning,
instructe' my tutores t' instill into my young minde a
desire t' do as my foster father had done, aspiring to high
political advancement, look for enduring renowne there;
not dreaming, even, o' lack wherein I should looke for
many honours, since I was led to think I was borne t'
nothing higher.

Of a truth in her gracious moodes, my royall mother
shewed a certaine pride in me when she named me her

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 139

little Lo. Keeper, but not th' Prince never owned that
that be truely the rightfull title I should beare, till Cecill
did sorely anger her and bring on one o' those outbreaks o'
tempe' against one of th' ladies o' her traine who, foolish
to rashnesse, [did] babble such gossip to him as she heard
at the Court. F her look much malicious hatred burn'd
toward me for ill-avis'd interference, and in hastie indig-
nation said:

"You are my own borne sonne but you, though truly
royall, of a fresh, a masterlie spirit, shall rule nor, Eng-
land, or your mother, nor reigne ore subjects yet t' bee.
I bar from succession forevermore my best beloved first-
borne that bless'd my unio' with no, I'll not name him,
nor need I yet disclose the sweete story conceal'd thus
farre so well men only guesse it, nor know o' a truth o' th'
secret marriages, as rightfull to guard the name o' a
Queene, as of a maid o' this realm. It would well beseeme
you to make such tales skulk out of sight, but this suteth
not t' your kin'ly spirit. A sonne like mine lifteth hand
nere in aide to her who brought him foorth; hee'd rather
uplift craven maides who tattle thus whenere my face
(aigre enow ev'r, they say) turnethirom them. What will
this brave boy do? Tell a, b, c's?"

Ending her tirade thus she bade me rise. Tremblingly
I obeyed her charge, summon'd a serving-man to lead me
to my home and sent to Mistresse Bacon. "That mother
of my dark Atimies shall free my name," said I, "for
surelie I am her sonne. May mother lie, or cruel Fates do
me like wrong? My God! let not a lot more hard, alas,
then death come t' me. When a ripe evil doth breake
upon wicked men, th' justice i' Thy holie law, ev'n in
chastiseme't holdeth men not that arrow of pestilence:

140 BI-LlTERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

but I am innocent, O my God! Visit not the evill we
much scorn, on me th' innocuous fruit."

In th' dark I waged warre manfully, supposing that my
life in all the freshnesse of youth was made unbearable.
It did so much exhaust, that, afte' pause of a moment, I
brast flood-like into Mistres Bacon's chamber and told her
my storie. No true woman can beare th' sight o' any
tear. I grasped her arm, weeping and sobbing sore, and
entreated her (artfully, as I thought, hidi'g my secret), t'
say 'pon oath I was i' trtoth the sonne of herselfe and her
honoured husband. I made effort to conceal my fear that
I was base sonne to the Queene, per contra, I eke, most
plainlie shew'd it by my distresse. When therefore my
sweet mother did, weeping and lamenting, owne to me
that I was in very truth th' sonne o' th' Queene, I burst
into maledictio's 'gainst th' Queene, my fate, life, and all
it yieldeth, till, wearie, on bent knees I sank down, and
floods o' tears finished my wilde tempestuous invective.
When, howsoever, that deare ladie saw this, with womanly
wisedome, to arrest fury or perchance to prevent such
despaire, said to me:

"Spare my ear, or aim rightly, boy, for you do wrong
your mother with such a thought. Pause least as to Absa-
lom a sudden vengeance come. When you list to my
words, you then will knowe that you do also wrong that
noble gentleman, your father. Earl Kobert, at the meere
mention o' this folly would rise in great wrath and call
down Heaven's judgements on you."

At the word, I besought her to speake my father's name,
when granting my request, she said: "He is the Earle
of Leicester." Then as it made me cease to sob, she said
againe: "I tooke a most solemne oath not to reveale your

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 141

storie to you, but you may hear my unfinish'd tale to th'
end if you will go to th' midwife. Th' doctor would be
ready also to give proofes of your just right to be named
th' Prince of this realm, and heire-apparent to the throne.
Neverthelesse Queene Bess did likewise give her solemn
oath of bald-faced deniall of her marriage to Lord Leices-
ter, as well as her motherhood. Her. oath, so broken, robs
me of a sonne. Francis, Francis, breake not your
mother's heart! I cannot let you go forth after all the
years you have beene the sonne o' my heart. But night is
falling. To-day I cannot longer speake to you of so
weighty a matter. This hath mov'd you deepely and
though you now drie your eyes, you have yet many teare
marks upon your little cheekes. Go now; do not give it
place, i' thought or word, a brain-sick woman, though she*
be a Queene, can take my sonne from me. Retire at once,,
my boy." .^ ,

With "Farewell," her heart half bursting, she bade mee
leave her, and I, fond boy, kingly power deerly yearn t'
winn dreame of goldene scepters, prou' courts, and by-
and-by a crowne on mine innoce't brow. Alledg'd oathe,
or any unrighteous rule, sho'ld never from the English
throne barre the grand-sonne to Henry th' Eight,sonne to
Elizabeth i' lawfull marriage; and by vertue of these
rights, in that it is the stile of the eldest sonne o' Eng-
land's Soveraigne, no lesse then that of the Prince o*"
Wales is my proper title.

In due course o' time, however, I, at daie's meridian r
was by my newe-f ound royall mother re-call'd and given
private audience. I learn'd from the interview, and sub-
sequent occurrences, that th' matter was trulie to be mar-
gente of my desire, and that it was, at present, in fancie

142 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

that I bore this lofty name, or a stile other then that
actually mine in my home. A princely name, it seemed,
was one to bee thought upon, not reckon'd 'pon as apt to
bee given me; for so all fabrickes, baselesse, (though one,
no doubt, shall be ev'n t' th' end of life busily construct-
ing) i' woful ruines upon lowly shiftinge sands do fall.

I mention' d that although 'twas guess'd by one [that]
another is rightfully the husband of this subtle Queene,
(nor can he make lesse ill-timed propositions) he so wisht
to betray her to the entire nation as one unworthy their
respec', by airs of enamour'd address not onely, but in a
formall most princely and courtlie wonte ask'd (at an
extra especial session of th' Queene's abated, astounded
and disspleased private councel) negotiations. All wayes
and meanes of avoiding th' open declaration were adopted
at once. The royall suitor, however, as a Poleak at missing
aime, was angered, and, great ado making, did so disturb
our great men, who, as birdes are amidst hawkes, were
thereat cow'ring with fear o' publick disgrace, that many
saw this. As it influenced State affaires, it was admirable.
If no act made th' heires of Elizabeth rightfullie bastard,
it was proper some meanes to shew legitimacy, that will
in no waye cause tumult throughout England, be ofer'd.
Any such measure found no kinde of regard i' th' sight o'
vain minded Queene Elizabeth, whose look traineth men
as vain as her owne selfe. Th' would-be idole of half the
great princes of Europe, concluding it would be lesse
pleasing in a f ewe yeares to have all the people knowe that
she is the wife of th' Earle of Leicester, then suppose her
the Virgin Queene she call'd herselfe, both props and
shields alike despis'd, nor did she at any subsequent time
reverse her decision. For such a triviall, unworthie, un-

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 143

righteous cause was my birthrighte lost, and nought save
the strong will of Elizabeth turned men from conspiracie
t' place me on th' throne. To winne backe their loyalty
she assum'd most kingly aires, and, upon occasion har-
angued the army, riding upon a richly caparison'd horse
before the lines, and naming herselfe th' King. I for
dear life dare not to urge my claim, but hope that Time
shall ope th' waye unto my rightfull honors.

The story of my entire life is told in some most subtile
waies. My plays, (now so nearly completed, that we pre-
mise we may to him great glory bring i' whose name I
write) have letters which I write to you in my other, more
principall, typic, or word-sign Cypher, that like that card
a ship's watchfull mate nere taketh his eye off in a time
of storm, must be closely observ'd.

Round certaine words that I name keyes, one cluster
may bee scene to have its place in othe' kinds o' worke. T'
aid in finding keyes, some words are not capitalized: when-
ere a fewe such are repeated frequentlie, take note of it
and oiir design, which wee saw written in a night vision,
will take its proper form i' th' minde. Let th' wordes in
parenthese' next to be found. N". B. every time such seem
to be us'd ad libitum, it showeth they are keies. Such use
o' capitalls meaneth that this pointeth out th' words I will
so use.

But it is by othe' devices, as in cloth o' Persian silk,
a patterne soon openeth out of the confusio'. Any aven-
turous worker can easilie trace it if he doth get th' true art.
Th' keys tak'n are aids onely. Seeke out all of the works
I name, ere th' deciph'ring naturally attracteth you so
continually, no pledg'd attentive devotion to more labor-
ious work may hold you to this necessary part. Let all

144 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

things be done carefullie and in order, following the way
I, darkly, have pointed out to you and seeke diligently for
the light.

ISTo sparke sheweth from th' flint until it be strucke,
nor can you finde th' fitfull sparkes that hide within our
pages if you doe not work in manifold wayes, in season and
out, to uncove' our flinty Ciphers and strike them sharpely.
Look not to finde a steady raye that doth as sunlight shine
unfalteringly. 'Tis as swift lightning; ev'n before we say,
"Lo it is there!" 'tis gone, and vastie darkenesse swalloweth
up our sight. However, 'tis quite sufficient for my pur-
pose, and as more light would defeate rather then further
famous designes, to have bestowed more were foolish
waste. My decypherer alone doth get the benefit, while
spies o' all sorts are dazzled and misled. Wherefore take
good heart, for not all now see what is revealed to one
that hath found what is the law of our Ciphers; for, for
years, I, an eager follower after all learning, have so
laboured t' finish this worke and to perfect it, that you
cannot misse my object. A system so exact must in the
end yielde what our designe doth intend.

Proceed, therefore, in this manne'. Seeke near each
key that othe' or joining-word, which you will find oft
repeated, and bring parts together. I knowe you feel a
desire to write at once, and beg you to be in no haste, for
if you leave searching out th' keyes and putting apart the
materials for the building o' th' pallaces, you will be as
a beggar going from door t' door without a wall that can
keepe off tempestuous winds or a roofe to shelter you.
Yet if you shall, as I direct, patientlie collect the blockes
of marble, which are already polish'd and prepar'd,

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 145

Like t' a king's th' shining walls shall rise,

"While high upon the loftie gleaming tow'rs

Th' golden roofe may outbrave Dlium's.

No sound shall come o' anie instruments,

As any iron tools, or ax, or hammer:

As in the beauteous temple, as we read,

In silent grandeur stone on stone was reared,

So noiselesse, so inaudible shall bee

The building of my glorious pallaces.

Let no conspiracie t' make you leave

For idole Fancie' noble Truth's faire realme,

A moment winne you, but for this assay

Break cressive love, throw off th' filmy band!

Nor in th' mazes of a winding way

Is risk'd a foot of him that would out-go

In fleetnes stepps of winged Mercury;

Then stray not in, or, ere one is aware,

The entrance to th' labyrinth's quite lost

Th' unmarking eies nor see nor read th' signs

Which of the strait and narrow way do make,

A shini'g pathway to th' golden mount.

The purposes, like to a weather-cock that chang'd,
Turning ere lazie eies had noted it,
Ne'er made one master o' the Grecia' art,
That wondrous use made both o' stone and canvass,
Neyther can sto'ier defiant Cipher,
As flint-like as th' hardest stone now wrought,
Bee rounded so to-day t' symmetry,
Unlesse old rules shall next reveale a keye.
I eke in verse, sing of my one great theame;
In verse we told the story o' our birth.
If one or other should on halting feet, ,

146 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Limp on apace, lenify easily,

And oft undo parts never justly given

So that at best this shall by iteration,

Shew its full use.

As th' object is gained by that, better, in very truth,
and more easily of a mark'd degree we have in many
places, oft on beginning a new portion, given th' deciph-
erer in manner differing, (but in nothing of importance
changed) repetition of our work as you may see. Always,
as you will perhaps note, th' law wrought compleatelie to
perfection, giveth you the whole story. To place the
cardes then soe carefullie that no losses can hap, was not
an easie taske; but I have not yet seen any ground of
feare that my designe may be at fault. All is cleare as
A. B. C. I wag'd my best, and it repayeth the outlay
well.

Though as to the dramatic as fundamental works I can
finde noe fault, the limits of historie we found cramping;
for as in [a] play nothing unnaturall is of anie use, you
find, in writi'g a simple tale o' history onlie the truth
availeth. It better doth aid th' writer of events t' have
little imagination. A book rightly giveth truth in its
beautie more fame then any story i' brass monuments,
and the names o' authors living may grace it. And I,
for I greatly desire fame, have rear'd high my noble pile,
but only the letter I have written to my decypherer hath
the secre' o' my untiring heart and hand. Pile the lofty
works to mark my tomb. I ask no truer monument.

Although this is risking the losse o' th' most valew'd
works, still I would that it be so left, for reasons which
I must, at th' beck o' th' heavy hand Death wieldeth, shew
unto th' world; but no historie save mine reveals th' story,

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 147

as it doth beseem secret letters. I, but fabricke of my
fancy it will sound, yet it hath truth in all. Even his-
torick writi'gs may draw somewhat upon that for aid, yet
my worthy work's not kin. Leave most futile and worth-
lesse attempts to undo me: This truth must span that
narrow arch above Time's current, where soft hued rain-
bows give promise of the car, banded with gold, i' which
we note Apollo in his pride, who ever carryeth t' th' sonnes
o' men his beauteous beams of light. Daye he lends the
beautie pure and shining that crownes her awful brow,
and Eve winns, too, th' gold tipt arrow wrought to so fine
a point, that shiny spear-head is sirnam'd a starre.

As hath beene said, it was such a very difficult under-
taki'g to adapt another historic to the purposes of the
Ciphers, we let our judgement oft-times decide upon the
manner of narration, alwayes provided the truth did by
this method by no meanes suffer. Whenever this soe
meerly formall device failed, manie more were soon de-
vised. A mark in lines I wish to have divided, when
found in the other or Latine tipe, shall have to such an
eye a newe significance, not such as it would have in th'
Italic. As you see I blent everie eye, save one, in this.

Next I us'd numerous means (nor on being examin'd
do th' manie works beare indication o' revealing the
secret), even reckoned better in use for manie sorts o'
writi'gs. By using much time to perfect the plann, even
of rest and sundrie such, so-called, necessities deprived
thereby many weekes, I found the methods as day after
day went by easily employed and easily seen, but free
fro' suspition. A name can be given so, for ere anie other
eye sees aught but an ordinarie name of articles in com-
mon use, the thoroughlie taught decipherer sees some of

148 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

my penn names; and as for fears, I anticipating them us'd
severall different names for one, making anie pursuite
fruitlesse. Even this marginall work, hath aid for the
decipherer, and also other signes are cressets bearing lights
to mark the waye that I would have him walke ; yet would
my truer, i. e., the more worth' Cipher-work, end ere all
bee well understoode, were this alwayes confined to rules,
signes, etcsetera. It is to make each a lockt doore to all
save my decipherer.

But, at th' same time, t' diversify th' worke suficientlie,
at th' beginning many of my simple lines are to be found
sowne so freely throughout the work of this Ciphe' (in
truth that said work so much doth alter this task) that
need o' a pleasanter, as shall soon be seen, cannot be felt
or knowne, but a love and devotion to th' work shall set
a newe motif into action.

Also, in th' Cipher, use of th' elements, the sev'n great
wonders, the seven planets, with manie of th' vertues a
fair kept recorde sheweth, and vices soe black that never
could an angell see one, but its eie' would fill t' overflow-
ing, also a long and well arrang'd table of such things as
are dayly used and familiar to all, beter keepeth my plans
from jeopardie then the strong guard of our king doth his
sacred person.

All this must bee found, before you can apply your-
selfe easilie unto 'this goodlie work of mine, that I wish
you to do at once. If it may at th' first seem of little
real value, the value of a correct story (ill as it may make
one most exalted person come out, aye most false, on evill
trulie gloating), soone will be apparent.

You are to get eleven old plaies, publisht in th' name
I have us'd lately at th' theatre, and many much valued

IN HENRY THE SEVENTH. 149

by scenick Caesars who conquer, ever, a lack created on
our stage from th' withdrawing of some lame and halt
plays t' embark again in new forme t' aide my projects
by compelling th' production of others. And therein you
will finde th' beginning of many stories, both i' dramati-
call forme (also in that raw unfinished forme) and in lam-
bick verse. But the haste with which some parts were
compleated, will explaine this. When these plays may
come foorth, for many reasons cannot now be determined,
but I promise you, it shall be soone. "Wisely and slow,"
is a proverb ofte on my lips, and as oft unheeded, even by
myselfe, also. But an axe that cutteth well must be well
sharpened then it doth become us all to looke well to
our instruments:

For you must cut apart my various bookes,

Spreading them out upon a mark'd scrutoire,

Which, as th' chart or mappe th' sailor hath

Doth pointe out everie countrey of th' world,

In f aire, clear lines, this great expanse doth name,

So faire and beauteous th' bound I set,

Though 'tis at riske o' this secret designe.

Then separate each part, to joyne againe

According as your guide hereby discloseth,

In riche mosaickes, wondrous to behold,

To bee admir'd by all the sonnes of men.

Heere is a crowne, gemme-starred, and golden scepter,

A crosse and ball insignia of ranke,

Even of royalty, soe pure and high

No blur is on it, but like to frost flowers,

Januarie's blossoms icie white,

It gleameth i' th' light of cache faire morne.

150 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Oil let not man forget these words divine:
"Inscrutable do hearts of kings remaine."
If he remark a pensive dying fall
In th' musicke of these strairies, let him forbear
To question of its meaning. List again,
As hath been, is, and evermore shall bee
Ages retarde your flight and turn to hear
Cor regis inscrutabile. Amen.
Yet 'tis the glorie of our Heavenlie King
To shroud in mystery His works divine,
And to kings mundane ever shall redound
In greatest compasse glory to th' names
0' such as seeke out Nature's misteries;
Fortune may aid him; Honor may attend;
Truth waite upon him; as we look, crampt Art
Doth reach forth to faire light, undreamt of lore;
While Reputation soundeth through th' world
Unto Time's close, glory in [highest] measure,
To him that to th' depths doth search wide Seas,
Digge deepe into th' Earth, unto th' Aire
And region of th' Fire climbe fearlessly,
Till he th' World, the Heavens and e'en th' Uni-
verse,

With human eyes that better can discern
Then mountaine eagle, gazing at th' sunne,
Doth finde out secrets hid fro' humankind
Since th' foundations of th' earth were laid,
f Stampt with the impresse of the Heavenlie Hand ;
And in grave musick deepe to deepe did call,
While morning starres together sang a hymn

Time lendeth to Eternity for aye.

FT. B.

MARLOWE.

EDWARD THE SECOND.
1622.

You will find here that sad, sad, sad tale o' my brother
Essex which runs darkling thro' my plaie, the secret th'
books contain, the most comon themes in any or all lan-
gwages, polish'd writings in everie stile named in any Rhe-
tor'cke, not sparing sundry dearly lov'd poets, but so mak-
ing over my erly college songs of ancie't world lore (of th'
hero's fam'd still through Homer et. al.) that no part is
lost. Much, however, as I say, shal assert things such as
will be recorded in no place which might be subject t' the
scrutinie o' enimie or of friend. Many of the hidden plays
have no other object I assure you.

Any writi'gs o' my penne, be they in mine owne name
or in that of my friend, is the work o' th' hand you have
so long knowne as untiring of the same restless minde
and spirit. Now hunt out our hidden epistle for it doth
foile tiresome friends; foes who, most constantly watchi'g
(ever closely bent o' use o' some kind or sort of secret) win
th' starte yet lose th' scent; and thus do curious men, try
however they may in weake attempts at resistance, wander
in mirie waies, and I followe this busines and this play, if
recreative labours may be stil'd plaie. Many days pass in
th' work that is here given. Oft more of the dayes then
may justlie be used in such a way. This is principall in
favour (since none but my owne selfe doth know of its
appearance), to furder my object and to avoid ev'n th'
slight suspicion of persons reading my plai's.

151

152 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

A booke is as an un wrought lump of metall: you see
not th' rich shine of it beneath sundry thin coates that
obscure it. The same is true of everything herein. Study
my signes, learn to read my numerous small Cyphers for
their designe was to make the worke easy. Doe this as
directed untill the whole is understoo' soe well no great
difficulty will bee found in th' deciphering.

You next join Lear to this, a history of Henrie th'
Sevent, Th' Life and Death of King John, and Burton's
great prose, (not the best I have so given another man, but
better for work of various parts then plaies) those which I
name Peele on th' stage, or that Arraignment I have men-
tion' d, th' David, one of my oldest books put out in a time
when we minded onelie our achiev'mente th' result of
our long study.

Time now doth unveil many things ungues'd or un-
dreain'd of by any. To do away with mistery we set forth
a large work De Augmentis S. now translated, to shut th'
casket, but if th' keys to it should now be sunk, th' story
it contains (our twelf t king's nativity since our sovereign,
whose tragedy we relate in this way,) shall now know the
day, nor shall the Latine hide, nor our disguises, many
and valew'd as they be, keep my story from th' eyes of the
curious searchers in a new mine. Such a prize hath my
book to give the student of the work whose entry is farre
in the vantguard; the armies rereward may lose th' glory
of it all.

FRANCIS BACON.

HISTORIA VIT^E & MORTIS.
1623.

Leaving out those Latin letters of the several plays
may throw upon the Italiques suspition of its purpos'd
emploiement or of planne, and Revelation may too soone
remoove the well-designed masque which Prudence would
but slightly stir. To prepare as manie alphabets as would
but be manifesto upon my shorter pages, can be scene to be
prodigious labour, and hath consum'd many of my spare
hours of late, if I may speake thus of any howers, since
my time is most constantly turned to inve'tion of this sort
or kinde that noe portion of my history may remaine
unwritten.

It is true it is manie times told, as my f aithf ull decypherer
must know if hee have performed anie worthy part of this
work, yet it is very improbable hee can have diseyph'red
a history as true as 'tis strange with a marvellous storie
of our late soveraigne therein, yet have told, writ, or put
forth this knowledge nowhere. In truth feare is grow-
ing within mee that this is all a lost labour, for it doth
seeme too well hidden to finde the light of dale, and it
doth ever wage th' warre in my heart with most earnest
desire for sweete asura'ce of a safety I have not for manie
a day or yere felt.

The death of a king that now usurpeth my rightfull
throne, may avayle not to give to one, who wrong'd by his>
owne roiall mother can shewe his claime but by his owne

153

154 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

and his frends' word, th' crowne and scepter of this vaste
kingdome. The papers that would testify as mouths of
livi'g and present observers, speaking of truth to them well
known, were long guarded with care, but it will be recalled
to your minde, doubtles,,that in Queene Elizabeth no sense
of justice was so strong as her loves, though her self-love
overmaster'd everie emotion. It will make cleere, perhaps,
her manifesto delight when ruine of my hopes came by
the destruction of said papers, and her refusall to make
due restitution to myselfe. As all witnesses were gone, as
th' time to prove my right to raigne ove' England came,
no hands were uplifted there, as hath too oft in my writ-
ings of these events beene retold, to bee secure yet transmit
to th' comming men of th' land, a tale of wrong nearlie
unknown 'mongst a greater part of the present genera-
tion. Brieflie, 'tis, as you may have learnt in Cypher
workes such as this, a prerogative of my birth, th' power
that is shewn in the outward and visible signs of royall
throne, scepter, robes and crowne, mine the coveted stile,
Eex.

AltKough wedded whilst she was but th' proud, unhappie,
tho' still spirited princesse that Queene Mary held to be
dangerous in freedome, and for this cause sent off without
forme of trial to languish in London Tow'r, afte' her ascent
to royale power, before my birth, a second nuptiall rite
duly witness'd, was observed, soe that I was borne in holy
wedlocke.

But having no true desire of my advancement, oieyther
th' Queene nor my sire, suiting the word to th' action, ever
set a seale upon th' papers that declar'd the legitimacy or
fully established my claime. Therefore th' aforesaid
papers which were destroy'd, were the testimony of Lord

IN HISTORIA VITJE & MORTIS. 155

P., at whose house this marriage was solemnized th' second
time, hee having stro'g suspition that these might, at a
remote date perchance be requir'd, with other like sub-
stantive testimony confirming this same ceremony of the
Queene's nuptialls, and of my birth, after a lapse of time,
certified by th' physitian, nurse, midwife, and Lady Anne
Bacon, my foster pare't, who saved the life my proud,
roiall mother boldly refused to nourrice. Therefore am I
not known by that name which is mine by lawe, and men
living in some farre off ^Eon shall at a word set this true
title and name to all bookes I shall leave in anie to'gue.

My best playes, at present as William Shakespeare's
work f ost'red, will as soone as one more plaie bee completed,
weare a fine but yet a quiet dresse, as is seemely in plaies
of as much valew and dignity as sheweth cleerly therein,
and be put foorth in folio enlarged and multiplyed as th'
history conceal'd within th' comedies, histories, or tragedies
requir'd. Th'' commencement of one of these hidden
epistles will bee seene, but is not in truth my earliest let-
ter or first Cipher teachi'gs. In this cheefe device that I
name the Word-Cipher- being found by those keyes joyn-
ing the partes togather I made many futile experiments
ere my great Cipher was compleat, as you must have learnt
by pursuing a course that I plainlie marked out for you,
but if your course have bin devious, your rules may so
have escapt notice that part of th' interiour work may be
unknown to you. It was truly very difficult to put out al
th' secret work in parts so small that it gave no clew to
other workes co'cealed in the plays, th' poems, the essays
or counsels, et csetera.

To this work have many weary yeares bin ungrudgingly
given, inasmuch as by the meanes then commanded by an

156 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

unskilled penne, ayded no lesse, I am co'pel'd to admit first
by worthie pamphlets of some pen that produc'd no little
fruit, then by genius, I, assur'd that time can do no harm
to my inventio', but should rather make it valued, ay, and
greatly prized, in every work- wherever or in what garb
sent out, plact my f ost'red hidden history.

Blacke as manie of my owne heavy maters may bee,
th' play, indeed, may be at once not gaye perchance, but
most pleasing and also leave small seedes that will put forth
some leaf or flower as earnest of harvest. So may that
which at this periode hath for sole clayme my inner revela-
tion, in future, give such seede and fruit, men's thoughts
shall be quite busy in seeking out the secret of the style I
have imploied herein and thereby see th' interiour story.

You will, I doubt not, finde valew'd work much changed.
I alwais alter even when there bee more to adde, and I may
take many of th' parts from th' plaies put out in quarto
form to reset th' same, having made a planne to increase
one by making a likeness in th' theame easily suit th'
thoughts and ene sundry verses of others. It may be a
long time ere I can put into use most choise lines soe culd
fro' early plays, and so friendes may, noting th' abse'ce of
these lines, sometime aske the cause. It wil not please those
who wish to keepe all things in pristine shape, stile, or con-
struction, even rejecting improving and for the most part
onely trifling changes, but so, much accompted of great
valew loseth true proportion as it is plact, it is highten'd
by th' foil or dwarf'd by that compariso'.

The new arr'ngement is not lesse waigh'd, studied, and
carefully ballanc'd, for I aim'd onelie to write with truth
in everie part and to set that one gemme above other
treasor, that noe man shal say in anie time to bee,

IN HISTORIA VIT^J & MORTIS. 157

"Th' fruit is as th' apples that, turning to ashes, drave olden
heroes to curse Sodom's deceitfulnesse." In due time a
strength, farre-reaching thought greatly hath increas'd,
cometh to your eie in this latter work, that also must bee
known to many by reading anie such work as my drama
entitled First Part of King Henrie th' Fourth. The Seco'd
Part of th' same and one entitl'd Othello reveale knowledge
of life wanting in th' common plays that had this penne
name on title page. These are, as I many times have said,
th' crowning glory of my pen, even though there bee de-
grees, as surely you must know, of excellence therein; but
the cause you may as well have learned since it was clearlie
shewne to depend upon times, and likewise upon the nature
as well of the hidden as of th' open story. Therefore some
will bee omitted from my Folio, but some retained for
causes now given.

To fix my rules well in your minde is the most essential
thing at th' moment, and many were put within those which
one must acknowled'e possesse little valew. As half the
number I shal assemble have alreadie appeared in Will
Shakespeare's name, I thinke that it will be well to bring
out the Folio, also, by some meanes in th' same name,
although he be gone to that undiscover'd cou'try from
whose borne no traveller returnes, because our king would
be prompt to avenge th' insult if his right to raigne were
challeng'd, and the sword of a king is long and where 'twill
not extend thither he darteth it. And as concerneth th'
plays, the truth commeth foorth more quickly from an
errour then from confusio' and therefore it is most certaine
that it would by f arre be more the part of wise and discern-
ing mindes to let this name of a man knowne to the theatre,
and his former gay company of fellowe-players, stand thus

158 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

on plays to him as little knowne, despite a long tearme of
service, as to a babe. I, thinking expedient so to do, now
obay th' Scripture and caste my very bread to the windes
or sowe it on th' waters. How shall it be at the harvest?
This wheat must fill up some goodlie garner. Will the
golden store not soon since time doth slowlie moove, yet'
at God His right or proper daye of reward bee mine?
I thinke this shall be true, for manie a fayre hope hath
bloomed out snowlike in my lone heart that promiseth ful
fruition to my wish. Tame it may chance for the workes
shal come, tho' not to the authour who hid with so great
paines his name that at this writing 'tis quite unghest.
And th' time I am giv'n to spende upon th' work is as gold,
princelie gemmes or purple robes.

All things in th' world, of th' subtle charme that is too
powerf ull for weak man such as be of greatest worth
are represented in this youthful i've'tion. Some that reade
that which is yet known 'mongst players as William
Shakespeare's, wil marvail that so many superiour works
could have laine hid in such seaso's of Prince's celebra-
tions. But my discypherer, who knoweth that the plays
represented as found never had existed are incompleted
in short, and are yet my cheefe occupation shall make
this fully to bee seene as 'tis made out, by being ready in
th' work I have therein requested to have compleated.
This to many noe doubt seemeth useless writing(g), illy
suted to that record of th' work of a lifetime, for which
this Cyphre now in co'stat use was invented, but as things
now are 'tis greatly priz'd, since my history, whilst now
as indifferentlie giv'n as such forward stories of a man's
owne experiences at most are, either in his thoughts or
writings, shal in th' relation be somewhat improv'd, my

IN HISTORIA VIT1E & MORTIS. 159

Word Cyphe' taught by the others being work'd in
with great trustiness and paines.

Yet how an interior epistle is colour'd by th' exterior in
other Cyphers then my letter, which you wel understa'd,
is also seene therein. For heroes, and all weightie deedes,
must bee suited in verse both loftie and fine, whilst true
limn'd passion should be cloath'd upon as some flow'r
humble or flaunting, dim violets or poppy flowre, alike
adorn'd in many-hued silken tissewe that time truly may
not destroy. Each spring hath brought newe bloome but
nothing is lost or greatly alter d. In like mode ill deeds
must put on ill wordes, a verse well marking the inner
character of soe evill a theame.

When this is observ'd in making your own search for
portio's scatt'red through these numerous new playes, as
well as in that Historic of JEenry the Seventh, your judge-
ment must truly be perswaded of purpose therefor. But
if history shall so exclude such sympathy of theame that it
must stand as my tomes writ when my sadde pen found
the Cipher letters its sole methode or meanes by th' timelie
contrivance of which its waighty secrets might be given
place apart, unseen, such divisions shall be most fine and
widely parted as is noted in earlier secret epistles.

Some of .my letters hide that story that giveth me f arre
more deadly paine then could ought else ev'n this los of
honour in the roiall soveraigne, his eies it is Lo. Robert's
untimely, cruell end. It hath so temper'd the hot rush of
bloud in my vaines that I feel myselfe becomi'g old ere it
be time. It is the one thought in my hours of day, my
one]y dreame by night, for there was my owne aide, not
to him but to my mother, th' Queene, which hurteth th'
memorie more than tongue can tel.

160 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Yet such terrors held mee that I could not realize ought
beyond that daie, nor did I beleeve anie such curse one
half soe likely of lighting sudenly upon th' youthful head
of my hasty Lord of Essex, most dear to th' Queene, as it
was to rest for aye upon my pate. Th' event of th' Earle's
death never for an howre, or even for a moment seem'd
posible to me after Robert stoopt his pride to send our proud
mother her pledge a ring given as if in doubt some great
harm might ever threaten, altho' neither surely tho't it
from th' Queene his evil would threat.

It was long enow, in truth some time thereafter, 'ere
this fact became well known, Her Ma. coming unto th'
knowledge but a short periode ere she died. After our
misguided Queene's last inurther, however, was by a chance
only prevented, it was freelie bruited everywhere. It was
then that I also found that th' most preitous yet, by his
fortune, trulie valewlesse token came short of its de-
sir'd or rather intended end. My owne share in his terrible
triall, you at least as my faithful discypherer know, but
none can say or think how awful the memory, burnt upon
heart, braine, and soule soe deeply, is at this day though
the time be long past. No mishap of fate or evil fortune
which hath befalne me of late, can make such sad impres-
sion on the heart as this unceasing sorrowe; and of all joies
possible to my future, none is to mine eager spirit soe en-
ticing as my earnest hope of meeting Robert in that world
of blis when all earth's sorrowes have ended, and of hear-
ing my greatest evill-doing by his word forgiven.

O grant our request Thou infinitely gracious Father!
As our Lord was crucified that we might live, that sin
washed in his bloud, might be remitted, blot out all our
transgressions. Though our sinnes be as scarlet let them

IN HISTORIA VIT^E & MORTIS. 161

be white as wooll. As farre as the East is from th' West,
as height is from depth, so farre remove wrong from our
mindes and all iniquity from our hearts, for with the Lord
is mercy, and plenteous redemption.

This work of my hand is fully prepar'd to put foorth
as soon as fit, this Cypher work being nearlie ready also,
yet this is by no means all that hath a place in these plannes
that I made at divers seasons in my leasure or it may be,
to speak according to the facts in time which was free
from officiall duties, since I have not found leasure in many
yeares from various sorts of i'vention. A man may well
finde it so uselesse a word in my position and circum-
stances that he could doe without it, except if it please
him to distinguish betweene differinge works, in degrees
and also in kinde.

One such work will be partlie put forth openly, to shew
the kind and style of th' work, partly in my Word-Cyphar
that is carefullie explain'd in many places to afforde my :
discyph'rer such ayde as I deem'd to be necessary. To me
it is probable, that, encourag'd by timelie advice, my dil-
ligent decypherer will continue this work, assisted in soe
great measure, and say with me it is well co'ceyved, for,
although at present there bee few inventions of a like kind
known, many are requir'd in th' world, and may have place
in my bookes amongst those that much labour may yet
make perfect. At least it is well to place manie things with
the table in which I have named the desiderata, so much
benefit may soone bee derived thence. To introduce th'
thought, being often greater actual good to students, as to
philosopher in fact, then to write out a most thorough and
labor 5 d theory, it is advantageous to wield a free penne, to
give scope and strength to its inve'tion.

162 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

For some such purpose my long sought, not yet sur-
rendered, theorie of f amilie or patriarchdom should fence
in th' degree I have me'tion'd, if th' losse of my owne sov-
eraignty teach anie people a modell of thorow, just, yet
tender, generous and kinde unquestio'd rule, or lead men
young, hopeful, fond o' adventitious joyes of new discov-
eries forth into the fields of limitlesse possibilities.

It should set this suffering, mutinous, wronged, wounded
spiritt somewhat at rest to feel this truly assured to my
heart, but none can shewe mine eies that future day
although I long for it as one whose life is waning swiftlie,
more from trouble it is true then age, yet no lesse surelie
is it wearing to its end, and God's hand shall add that word!,,
all that at that day shal be wanting, meerely the Finis to
say that the soul of this Prince wins loving subjects at last
in Christ his kingdome.

In my remaini'g dayes, or many like our forefathers'
or few, whatever is meet to do for th' benefit of posterity,
to promote the generall improvement of mankind, that
would I do in all places. Some experime'nts that were 1
made before King Jas. put some businesses into my handes
that in latter dayes are lacking, though delicate often and
wearisome, receive chiefly my unoccupied moments, when no
Cypher is in hand, for nothing is more benefit or at least
doth put a man in a way sure of ayde in a right understand-
ing of Nature's lawes more readilie then Nature's owne
teachings. Therefore these aydes are often but a suggestion
of a methode of inquirie rather then th' replie.

A. great arte to finde truths which Nature's hand
guardeth even as it was in that first day conceal'd must of
necessitie have exercise the same as other artes, nor must
th' inquirer imagine this is possible without th' most paines-

IN HISTORIA VITJE & MORTIS. 163

taking work. This is obvious in the present in labour I
performe every day, for like the old Israelites who served
in Egipt, more is oft requir'd of mee then to make the
brick. This must I do and also seeke th' strawe. Let it
then make the labour seeme lesse irksome, inasmuch as I
have long told many a tale well dried and ready for a place,
how lowe or lofty it bee, in the temple walles.

It should not, however, be his part to labour, ev'n to
fatigue, with hand and braine. Philosophers have need of
servitors that shall prepare the waye before, like the fore-
runners of our Saviour, exalt the low places, th' mountayns
bring downe, th' crooked and the uneven and rough make
once more smoothe, straight and plain, since their labour
is to some degre a labour divine and hath for end and ayme
th' advantaging of humanity, but as the work is in bands
and cannot in our day bee : mention'd 'mongst truelie well
understood sciences, you, my deciphrer, cannot know how
much doth appertayn thereto nor th' methods by which my
labours have bin done. I put much good and thorough
enquirie in my taskes and th' experiments have not beene
hastilie made nor carelesselie set downe.

"Whosoever may reade and note this work shall keepe on
faithfullie in this way which I mark'd out for him, but
should hee, with the aide that I afford his search it leadeth
f arre on to other and wealthier mines of truth I have no
doubt make farre greater discoveries and inventio's ere
he shall set these forth in triumphant musicke, let some note
in such a psean bee in my praise, inasmuch as my hand long
before awaken'd th' sound and tuned th' instruments that
th' musicke might bee thus though th' sounds be not in
th' tuning agreeable or pleasing to heare, for this cause the
musicke is sweeter afterwards. Doe not treat my small

164 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

request as an idole thought, for 'tis as serious as anie that I
have placed in my workes.

In th' Holie "Word of Scripture we reade that a workman
is worthy of his wages, and I accompte this my reward. As
hope of Fame is onely for a future, howsoever remote this
shal be, it is not vanity in mee to make this request, nor do
I offer apologie to anie who heare and see. Sure the con-
servation of renowne may not cause wonder since much
honour that is my due may for aye be denied me. This
must be true if none have understood, I place my joylesse
story herein yes joylesse and sad indeede, yet true, and
in a history nothing but the last proprietie hath waight.
Then, too, co'sta'tly in mind is th' proude hope that my
owne kinde friend wil folow me thus f arre in th' work. To
him the title Baron, also Viscount, is without doubte known

and my right to Eex.

SHAKESPEAKE PLAYS.

1623 FOLIO.

*You will either finde the guides or be lost -in the
labyrinth. Every one of my great dramaticall writings,
severall other workes my New Organ, the second part
of my Instauration, my New Atlantis, (some parts of
which I much desire you to write from my philosophicall
papers) and the part of the Sylva Sylvarum (a Naturall
Historic that I designe to leave as it is), my Historic of
Henry the Sevent, as well as my workes of science,
containe in the last ten pages of the papers, rules that
tell how to work out the great word Cipher. Keep at

work.

FR. ST. ALBAN.

*Any person using here the bi-literall Cipher, will find
a rule to be followed when writing the hidden letters in
which are Histories, Comedies, Tragedies; a Pastorall of
the Christ; Homer's epics and that of Virgil, which are
fully render'd in English poetry; the completion of my
JSTew Atlantis; Greene's Life; Story of Marlowe; the two
secret epistles (expressely teaching a Cipher now for the
first time submitted, doubtfully, for examination and
studie, by any who may be sufficiently curious, patient,
or industrious); part of Thyrsis (Virgile's ^Eclogues);
Bacchantes, a Fantasie; Queene Elizabeth's Life (as never
before truely publish!); a Life of the Earl of Essex, and
my owne.

FR. LORD VERULAM.

Heming and Condell. * Ben Jonson.

165

166 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

*Francis of Verulam is author of all the plays hereto-
fore published by Marlowe, Greene, Peele, Shakespeare,
and of the two-and-twenty now put out for the first time.

Some are alter'd to continue his history.

F. ST. A.

*Search for keyes, the headings of the Comedies.

FRANCIS BARON OF VERULAM.

*As I sometimes place rules and directions in other
Ciphers, you must seeke for the others soone to aide in

writing.

FR. OF Ve.

*Queene Elizabeth is my true mother, and I am the
lawfull heire to the throne. Finde the Cypher storie my
bookes containe; it tells great secrets, every one of which

(if imparted openly) would forfeit my life.

F. BACON.

*Francis St. Alban, descended from the mighty heroes
of Troy, loving and revering these noble ancestors, hid
in his writings Homer's Illiads and Odyssey (in Cipher),
with the .zEneid of the noble Virgil, prince of Latin poets,
inscribing the letters to Elizabeth, R. .

*Fr. Bacon is the author, unknown among men as such.
He in this way, and in his Cypher workes, gives full
directions, in a great many places, for finding and unfold-
ing of severall weightie secrets, hidden from those who
would persecute the betrayer, yes, even take a person's
life. Then take care that he be not endangered by your
zeal.

Reade easy lessons first, and forsooth the Absey in the
Life and Death of King John, act one, is a good one; it
shewes the entrance to a labyrinth. Court Time, a sure
leader, and proceed to his Alphabet of Nature. Learne
well two portions, Masses, and the Rule. Search this out.
J F. B.

*L. Diggs. *I. M. *Actors' Names. "Catalogue of Plays.

*Prologue to Troilus and Cressida. *Headings of Comedies.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 167

This letter tells you how to produce my most highly
estimated unpublish'd labours of to-day, and I beg you
try to understand it.

Go as I direct, but finde each subtile signe, that
silentlie like fingers, shewes your waye. Actus primus,
King John, gives th' epistle's first wordes, near the word
Absey already familiar to you. Join these plays to Fr.
Bacon's Novum Organum : but other plays must shed their
light in so wonderous a Cipher: none may be found if my
work be lost.

Seek not meerelie to read foure Cyphers, (for you
should find six in all, which I coppy here, in full, to direct
students how they should work out my greatest Invention)
which you shall take as I direct you: this is first: that
Clowne in the play who speaks of the plantan leafe, is
a wise man here Art outruns that grub Nature: hunt
out this Cipher, or anagram, at once: now finde a number
in my King Henrie the Sevent correspo'ding to this (i. e.,
the same kinde or style), next add the plaies of Twelfe
^"ight or "What You Will, and Love's Labour's Lost; you
will finde here capitalls in two formes, it is your next: the
face of my clock comes -fourth: my symbols are next:
and the sixi! is what all shewes my great Cipher of
Ciphers.

Every letter, save the epics of Virgill and Homer, is
dedicated to yourselfe.

FR. BACON.

*My reason for using my translated stories to teach

this Cipher is this: I wish to get my Cypher into
students' curricula. You should do this worke by my
rules, and seeke for the keyes in the playes. First finde

*Heaclings of the Histories.

168 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

the gods Jove, Pluto, Apollo, Vulcan, Minerva, Juno and
Neptune, but do not omit any Nymphe: add Greek heroes,
some captives; Dreams; the Sacred Isles; Chryses, Apollo's
priest; some Trojans; the names of townes in Greece and
Asia Minor; some parts also of Europe neare the Helles-
pont and the ^Egseum: you can now write the first two
bookes. Thus begin:

O Goddess, sing of the destructive wrath
Of fierce Achilles, Peleus' worthy sonne.

Thus continue in Iambi, with verses similar to the lines
above, taken from their hiding places in the bookes I have
published; ill worth Homer's name, less musicall than
the Greeke, I still thinke it worthy of preservation and a
measure of honour. Search all places in which I have
put my keyes. Near words like Jovus, Hera, Syno-
nymes, as well as all the derivatives from these wordes
are the sectiones of the translation.

Keepe lines, though somewhat be added to Homer: in
fact, it might be more truely Homeric to consider it a
poeme of the times, rather than a historic of true events.
For this good and sufficient reason, the translation should
be in the forme of verse. I use English Heroick verse,
usually paying but small heede to rime, like as you may
see in my playes, yet in my other verse, rime being indis-
pensable, and sometimes, as in the closing line in each
stanzo of the epics of the so cal'd E. Spenser, the feete
being too numerous, you may do as to you seems to be
juste and propper.

In all places, be heedfull of the meaning, but do not
consider the order of the words in the sentences. I should
joine my examples and rules together, you will say. So I

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 169

will. In the Faerie Queene, booke one, canto two, sec-
ond and third lines of the seventh stanzo, thus speaking
of Aurora, write:

Wearie of aged Tithones saffron bed,

Had spreade, through dewy ayre her purple robe.

Or in the eleventh canto, booke two, five-and-thirtieth
stanzo, arrange the matter thus, to relate in verse the great
attacke at the ships, at that pointe of time at which the
great Trojan took up a weighty missile, the gods giving
strength to the hero's arme: it begins in the sixt verse:

There lay thereby an huge greate stone, which stood
Upon one end, and had not many a day
Removed beene a signe of sundrie wayes
This Hector snatch'd, and with exceeding sway. . . .

It is an ensample, and the instructions are so cleare, I do
not think you can follow scent so well as a hound, if you
unkennell not the fox.

Seeke the keyes untill all bee found. Turne Time into
an ever present, faithfull companion, friend, guide, light,
and way. For he who seeks an entrance here, must be
furnished in that manner aforesaid. All my names I use
as my fingers, to shewe which worke to join by means of
the signes, which you so ofte' have seen in divers of my
other workes. I am secretlie enscheduling worthie guides,
which shew the path, and keyes this lock to turne.

Now match to these, when you hunt them out, all
Grseco-English wordes, i. e., wordes that are not yet com-
pleatlie made English. Keepe my rules so carefully im-
pressed upon your mind in all cases, that you bee not ledd
aside; for one who taketh the right waye, if he will push

170 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

on, will win the goale, the lawrell garland, and the ap-
plause and praises of the multitude: do not, therefore,
turne your steps to the left, nor to the right, nor trace the
roade backward. Keepe your eies ever fixt on the goal,
and presse onward as I bid. I will make it a delightsome
way, trust me, aye, ev'n as the milk-white path of high
Jove on blew Olympus' summit.

Pursue, with caution, every devious way, never forget-
ting to retire back, before the chief highwaye be lost to
sight. It is by such means that events, (and many a fabu-
lous deede of the gods and heroes) remotelie appertinent
to the Iliads are related, while you this winding labyrinthe

trace out.

FR. B.

*You are now come to the Catalogue. It cannot be done
as you have in the previous story of not too unusual actions
and events. It is divided into small parts, as you will
observe, which are so widely scatter'd in my writings, you
should keepe my most common rule alway in this work;
also keepe the order of the Greek in your translation.

F. B.

To these keyes now add Strife, Terror, Fortitude, Pur-
suit, Din, Friendship; the ^Egis; the remainder of th'
Olympian gods; the River gods; the Simois also the Sca-
mander; with the many heralds, Sleep, Iris, also Mercury;
Death and the Fates, all clouds, Chimseras, winds, Day,
Night, and sweete Aurora; the Hours, who open Jove's
gates; besides the Muses, Graces (who wait upon Yenus, or
attend on the fire-robed Sun-deity), and Furies, lightning,
thunder; Juno's birds, Venus' doves, Jove's eagle; Cen-

*Headings of the Tragedies.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 171

taurs, steeds, chariots, lions, serpents, with many other
words which you ought also to keepe near bye in readinesse
for use.

Dub yourself as Knight of the Golden lies, and set out
in quest of great deeds, grande triumphs, and Fortune's
golden meede: your Honour will grow in lustre as you
show forth the brightness of your Nature; so also- shall
your Reputation be as jewels, and your Truth as precious
stones, which Art has made of exceeding worthe, beautie,
delightsomeness and estimation, and Time harmeth not.

You will now find some wordes with a key, that tell the
manner of joining parts. All workes do not give rules, as
in most of my playes; but my poemes, plays, portions of
prose, and of the numerous Latin and Greeke translations,
also the stanzas of Italian Iambi are composed so well that
you could not, if you would, go astray. When the partes
are separated, put all matter of like kinde together- in
boxes, which have been so marked with keies and joining-
wordes that you may follow the plans with ease, not care-
full for the outcome, since I am Architect, you the Master-
builder: yours is the hand that shall erect the temple,
when you shall bring to a selected place the fairest stones
which you can finde, and cedar-wood hewed and shaped,
so that you could raise towards heaven my Solomon's Pal-
lace, and nowhere be heard either ax, or hammer, or any
instrument of iron, as you put them in place. How won-
derfull its beautie, no mortall eye hath seen.

FR. ST. ALBAN.

*As apt children have their dailie taskes, so also in this
hardest of employes, a dailie burthen is laid on ev'ry hand;
honres manie, as free as mortall can desire, are e'er jewels

*The Tempest.

172 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

beyond price; yet, in this, an eager minde can find a dark
chapter's chiefe motif, by thus most honorably and
shrewdly using his moments of solitude and ease.

The Tragedy of Macbeth must be added to this, then
joine Edward the Second. As these are carefully con'd,
many of Nature's writing are to be read, and a rule to fit
or join, now that of one name, now others, making a story,
in plays, which shewes that sin of my despis'd, (yet
royall and also loyal) friends, Essex, who is my brother,
and our most lovely parent, Queene Elizabeth ; the tragedie
of his murther; an historic of my owne life; the storie of
my share i' th' triall of my brother; my owne downfall,
with many such.

Now joine King Lear, King John, Romeo and Juliet,
sixtie-two lines of The Life of King Henry Eight, partes
of such other as you need my rules dissipate all uncer-
tainty. More prose must stande in this part of your
Cypher work, then has been used to relate my stories.

Plays are by no meaues alwaies verse, therefore have I
put a chain linking together by keies my speacfces: those
in Henry Seventh, are now many lines in excesse; and all,
or much, upon the claiming Henrie's crowne is to be
altered. You will finde that historic repeats itself e in this,
and that my owne story here given, has much that is simi-
lar to the claime Warbeck made, yet also differing, inas-
much as his had so false premises: but I was Elizabeth's
son, by her wedded Lord, elder brother to Robert, the
Earle of Essex, who raised a rebellion to obtaine his owne
mother's kingdome, despite all other and prior rights.

As hunted deer awaite death at every moment, so I, at
baie, had an hourly f eare in both my brother's affects, and
the hate and ill-intents of our mother and Cecil.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 173

*When you match Macbeth with Tempest, it is to be
observ'd, in the deciphering, how like is join'd with like
conspiracie in each. Note in Tempest the directions, and
do as I have done.

You can follow my playes, as true keys, in most com-
pleate succession, unlocke the closed doors of this secret
chamber, in which are caskets like to that which Alexan-
der found, and wherein I hide, likewise, mine own bookes,
as well as honor'd Homer, his verses.

Search, seeke out a secret, imparted to no living person
except Mother Bacon, mine earlie friend and true, the
woman who saved me from my furious, owne mother by
rare devices. I was as a brat, or waift, the girle throwes
from all eies to save her fortunes and name.

Hate is juste, in him who is made prey to th' ills which
do fall even upon a babe most innocuous, if love is not
waking as he sleeps. Even then was I taken forth, stript
naked, th' thinn soft bands a childe should feele, a rough-
spun woolen robe replaced. None saw or pitied my harsh,
unkinde, accursedly cruel usage; yet my mother was a
wedded, honorable, and most royall woman: her will is
then the single bar between E. Saint Alban and a sceptre.

Take this play, and to it match that of Marlowe, i. e.,
Edward the Second. Note a hidden lesson in Marlowe's
multi or rather double form tipe, for it tells when other
plays take forward my work.

In my worthy mind is a better, a broader, a more farr-
renowned and farre-famous'd kingdom. Deny the imposed
gift we truely would, in hot anger, but love is so great a
requitall of wrong, the anger in the humane heart is seen
a fire-eyed Eurie's child, turned from a region of Nox and

*Macbeth.

174 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

her compeeres, and then we controule our passio's. My
love for Marguerite was the spirit which saved rny soul

from hatred, and fro vilde passio's.

F. B.

*Search this for a more awefull act then all modern,
' middle, and most farre-ofi o' all farre-distante times has
revealed. It tells that sad, awefull story of an act which
will poison my morning-sunrise, sunsett, the evening soft-
lies, nightes darke heavie houres, and make the world bit-
ter to the end: it is my brother's cruel, foull ending.

Studie Time's rule: kin is set by kin, like is joyn'd to
like. Recall to minde the play which matcht to this, will
compleate the scene of torture King John. When this
is done, a most sad, heavie story, in form o' a play, is told.
Be dilligent therefore, and give heede. Attempt by all
odds, worke purposed for proud R. Cecill's record, to cast
his woven and treacherous plots into view.

Use every wind to fill your great sails, hanging now so
empty. Idle no morn's golden houres away, nor even, nor
night lighted by moones pallid and soft beames; sail on,
and fetch treasures Time will make more and richer. Moth
can ruin th' royall vestments the glitt'ring crowne rust
may corrode no such action ere shall harme my gems'
golden, art-enchas'd rigoll.

Next you must write a simple history or story of those
two men, with more of their subtle actes apparent. They
were my worst, aye, my onely foes. Read of some overt
insolence, acts so wicked, such violent deeds, I had a just
fear, if imployed doing that [which] Fate (or whatsoever
power driving me) causes me to do, my enemie construed
to come from my primary resorte, a predominant desire to

*King Lear.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 175

be endued with a royalty-robe, as a mark imprest to set the
seal upon my rights, by virtue of my birth. Upon every
occasion they were mindfull of my where'bouts. I
coulde finde the path to Olympus, however, wing waie with
Muse t' sing high paeons, farre from the murmur of their
envy and spite.

Their power I did evade. This duty so munified a
brain, a heart, farre remote and seeking to reach the deep-
est depths of knowledge, that I followe my main worke.
Attempts fail which a tireless enemy doth so turne hate's
minister of harm most truely doth good, not ill, to my
sundrie* devices and designs.

It must now bee left in this forme, for a trite, though
true, simple story, may not be used t' form this kind of a
play, and I have arranged it in plain prose, but I hope you
will gain knowledge thereby. If this part be read, it
makes my method of word-signes clear, and anie carefull
painstaker who doth inquire here, will undoe my mistery.

I have many single Livres prepar'd for my deare Mar-
guerite; one is in these other historicall playes, and in the
play, Jas. Fourth, of R. Greene. It is her own true love
story in the French, and I have placed many a cherish'd
secret in the little loving wortheless books: they were kept
for her wishes to finde some lovelie reader in future
^Eones. A part of the. one I place in my owne historie,
lives so pure no amorous soilure taints the faire pages.

So fair was she, no eyes ere look'd upon such a beau-
teous mortall, and I saw no other. I saw her French
Eve to their wondrous paradise as if no being, no one in
all high heav'n's wide realm, save onlie this one Mar-
guerite, did ever exist, or in this nether world, ever, in all

*King John.

176 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

the ages to be in the infinity of time, might be created.
But there came in days, close in the reare, when I would
fain have lived my honor'd days in this loving-wise, ruin
worthy husband's hopes, and manie a vision, had there bin
onlye one single Adam therein, which should be, and
was not, solely myselfe.

Join Romeo with Troy's famous Cressida, if you wish
to know my story. Cressida in this play, with Juliet,
both that one in the Comedy, where she first doth enter
as Claudio's lady, and the one of my Tragedy just given,
are my love, whose minde changed much like a fickle
dame's.

Years do nere pay his sin's paine-boughten bond in
man, or take paine from the remembrance ever keene with
the ignomy which this fickle ladie put upon dumbe, blind,
deafe, unthinking and unsuspicious lovers.

This is tolde plainly in my story. Ever kind, true in
houre o' neede as in that of pleasure, I suffer'd most cruell
torments in mind. Thus Trojan Cresid', Troylus did en-
snare, and the words his sadd soule speaks do say to you
that his ill-successe, and that I did have, will here be told,
such oneness was in his sorrowfull hap and mine. This
makes the next parte.

Often mid a waste appeare many purest water-rises. I
found a pure cup which nature's prettiest dales do form,
filled to its brim as with Nepenthe: this I drank, and so in
time I did shuffle off my old amour. Study in this wide
realm tells many usefull truths: Time reveals matter long
held in darknesse amid this very frank gift, an inheritance
which is farre greater than manie a wide realme of earthlie
power.

*Romeo and Juliet

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 177

These plays contain my early history. Conjoine the
part of my other great plaie named when I gave you this
taske, Julius Caesar, Henry the Eight, Fift and Fourth,
. just as I put them here, i. e., in this order, to make the
plays, whereof events of such importancy, and of so great
accompte do make up the plots, my best Cipher was given
to a revelation of them, I, ["ay"] events so false, set
down in wViting by my wicked mother, that none have
wills so strong as to finde out the state of any kind of illes
which is laid by for the good opportunitie. The oppor-
tunities are at this Queene's orders, therefore not seene, if
it so gratifie Elizabeth.

Neretheless my labour must bring villainie unto just
punition, give the full name of the one who is heir appar-
ent * to this kingdom, put to rightes the most important
records of these lands, with much hard bought truth, and
turne from the lees, or rack a flagon of a red wine, the
which, running cold, sendes icie chilles into my soule; ay,
crudled blood this wine proves, if you see the cuppe run- . : ,
ning ore in that soft white hand, and 'tis as from this life
of my veines, indeed.

And truly you shall not thinke or intimate to men, that
the life of my onely born brother could be more dear to
some rufian officer, or rugg-headed wild Irishman than to
my my heart: but man has at all times- a love still larger
for's own life; e. g. in God's owne book you do find many
such a Scripture. You may thus see man's heart loveth the
life here better vaine as it is ene then eternitie, and if
I did prize life as do most men, it may scarce be deemed a
wante of courage and of honour.

When you have found the larger story hidden in my
workes, you may see many things in an unnoted and yet

*Trolius and Cressida.

178 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

not unnaturall relation. Join Othello, and Life of Richard
Second: then Anthony and Cleopatra, Cymbeline, Hamlet,
Richard the Third, Timon, and Edward First, placing the
same in this order.

A great quarto in which you will finde Richard the
Second, has none of my letter or epistolic story in the
titles: also a part of a Cipher play, with this most heavie
tragedie, and a full just accompt therein of all the secret
reasons which conduc'd to it, is wanting; but my Folio has
no part omitted, and the Cypher is in many of later date
than Essex' cruelest torture, for the true rend'ring of his
history. You must put your time on the same, lest these
more valued workes receive a lesse share of a worke-howr
than manie stories that were meere tales for boys, put
beside the plaie that I here name A Tragicall-History,
since the story is that of Essex, in his dark end.

Kings must have some happy guard as firm of heart,
and ene so strongly furnisht forth to war, j'ust, turney, or
other kind of battel as ancient Alexander, his picked
guards. Failing of his helpers, that would-bee king was
held for trial for treaso', co'demn'd, made to tell his ambi-
tious designes, tortured, for in the prison, vilde men, his
keepers, by arts more pitichie-hued than hell, having ob-
tain'd a permittance to cause paine sufficiente to burst the
scale upon the lipps of maddened Essex, with burning irons
put out both lovelie eyes, then coldly executed.

No tale of ages before our blessed Saviour suffer'd such
death, has one halfe the woe of this. Ev'n the barbarians
of anie age, would burn men to cinders lesse murth'rously.

O God! forgiveness cometh fro' Thee. Shut not this
truest book, my God; shut out my past love's little sunny

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 179

hour, if it soe please Thee, and some of man's worthy work,
yet Essex's tragedy here shew forth: then posterity shall
know him truly.

Read well your many rules which shall tend to a speedie
accrument of matter, to be correctly oppos'd to severall
simple signes or marks. In these subtile waies I shew
when many plaies are to supplie the matter, and also whe'
a few will tell much. The most of my keys are words
like some portion of the play, such as dead, death, dye, or
dying, kill and murth'rous torture when the scene of mur-
ther is work'd. The *first were what I most use, if I speak
of mine only born brother Essex, such common words that
few suspect my volumes had simply hidden the chiefe of
the untold story.

Your keies must shew you how I, by this new method
use my invention. Sure boundes are thus set, or traces
showing them.

As in your lists you compleatly subdue by skill, so must
other sundry hot [contests] be out-fought, but no true
pow'r should impropriate moe then is just. True you do
look most calmly upon my loss from a safe distance, yet to
me the injurie never can be repaired.

You will finde them in most every other work I have
used. This may not apply in date, or events, I grant. It
gives most publickly such, as all other ladies whom Queene
E used in Essex' undoing; his well-seen youths with stur-
dieness like to the men's, wreaking 'pon all their pitiless
vengeance with many a warm hand steep'd as in wine, so
red in crimson gore.

It did behoove me to be wary, yet for my Prince Eobert
I took desperate hurts. As the danger many hundred

*Julius Caesar.

180 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

times verified fear of our old compeeree, with an angry
heart, I ofte saw Essex summon in minio'n to Bit in halles
of judgement, in whose hands his very life was in peril.
He would turne from the wisest wordes of hundreds, ruled
by the hardy sons England so lov'd.

Losses unthought of, hpstes of hamperers when; he had
put boldest confidence that most loyall helpers would sus-
tai' him, with his hasty measures, much weaker tro<
as wel as a most utter want of anie true, indubitate rem-
nant of every king's whole right, i. e., simple honor, I
know, were the controulers which made hi:-- fate eertaine.

You will need but my easily learned keies to follow any
lost thrids i' the plays, the Life of Essex in the form of
prose, two stage-plays, and a story that has a part of his
worst factionall effort's failure, many that I name in an
unpublished story; some you will find in a play out of
print. I published it in Peele's workes. The earlie-t
plays that had iny brother's first youth as the time-, and
the many though not so rare (so early), unpublisht yet in
any forme except that, name Greene as the author. This
is but my author-name t' hide * my owne. It serveth al*o
as a guard, as none such will be lost in future ages.

Yon will finde more o' history in such works, but much
of Homer's great poem. It more chiefly makes up my
delightsome Hiren the Faire Greeke, a stage-play J pub-
lished in Peele's name, and also my Dido, my tragedy of
Titus, many poems, A Tale of Troy, Venus and Adonis,
Jonson's Masks, and much of Marlowe's translation of
Lucan, of Hero and Leander, and the Faerie-Queene,
Sheapherd's Calendar which now bear only Spenser's
marks Ovid's Elegies, and also the Rape of Lucreece, all

Henry the Eighth.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 181

Greene's wanton verses those mixt poem-prose ftori's, wit-
tilie having for our purpose Achilles or others as heroes
especially Pandosto, Arraignment o' Paris, (the one last

naiiK'f! wii.- piiUi-hc<l ;i:-. IVclc's pl:i_y;, Mi-n;i|ilioii, Orlando

Furioso, Marlowe's Tamburlaine, Dr. Faustus, with Troy-
lus, (the story of his life except as you have it given you

;i- ;i juirl. of -om<- |i;is-:ijj;- in tli' OIT\ lory of mine c;irlic

fond love for rare Eve, French Eve, first, worst, loveliest
upon the face o' this earth, th' beauteous Margaret and
his chief exploits i' th' battailes outside the walls o' Troy)
King of Arragon, King Henry th' Sixt, Battail of Alcazar:
Spenser's, as Shakespear's, num'rous love poems of many
kinds, sonnets, and so forth, that shower my Margaret as
with water of Castaly, are also part of the Iliads and
Odyssey.

My translations are many times emploied twice. If
my love poems may but show this, you will understa'd.
In the Cypher story, inside playn, my hidden book mask'd
in its sentences oftentimes a play, or story, divided more,
that it may forme the inmost of my secret epistles.

Of course we must not suppose our Latin work to re-
move our other Cyphers away from sharpe inquisition, but
while this remaines undiscover'd my secret is quite exempt
from suspect

My first importa't letter to you concerns my greate*
invention of a meanes of transmitting whatsoever I wish to
hare.

My story may be found in this way after I am dead;
then iiiiihl my IISIMM: live? amon^ MM-II -l-:ir-d from all sort*

of blot, or imputation o' wrong advice to Queene Eliza-
beth i' th' triall of Robert, the Earle of Essex, for treason.
A Queene has many to ayde, if th' case require, but a sud-

182 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

den justice pursues a subject that taketh any liberty in
matters of state. When the offence is from her true sonne,
building mighty hopes upon the overthrowe of the power
of our Queene not makeing the sinfulness lesse, rather
greater his punishment most naturally is greater. It is
justice, yet how it doh blow my heart.

At men's many harsh insinuations or open obloquy, my
indignation swell'd till my heart was too great. Native
pride would cause one to seeke a means of shewing the true
state of matters for justification : true he is onely actuated *
by his worse growth of motives, but the facte is irrefute-
able a most simple and naturall desire for just and worthy
men to give him full dues.

Most, (or at times, truth to say, all) seeke for true
respect; the most of us insure this, no doubt, by our lives;
but occasion, that ariseth when least looked for, may mar
fairest prospects most suddenly. An unexpected event
may blast his future with sorrow.

Sole accomptant must I be hereafter for the share I had
in my brother's sorry fate, but none here will fully acquit
me, and so my worthiest opponents have many notable
advantages.

Injury to an innocuous man who is milde in nature,
must be harder punishment (I am assured in heart it must
be so) then to the man of iron nerves and hardy tempera-
ture. I am no soldi'r, but not a coward either. I am a
student, a philosopher, I may say a savant, and I am sen-
sible of injuries. In so farr as this is unjust, I hereby
demande true and rightful examination by any man that
doth regard my brother's case and his sentence as greatly
altered by my counsell, and reporteth this same every-

*Henry the Fifth.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 183

where. Let my plea be heard and just judgement be ren-
d'red. I will aske but this, "Aye, strike but liste to me,"
and marke how love is alwaies manifested in our enter-
course at all the times of meeting in prison, many of my
written protestes and entreaties to Essex to turn him aside,
intending meerely his onely good, the safety of his own
person.

When trust is proved falsely grounded, much of hope
droops upon its stalk like a summer's flow'r. Thus Essex
did fare. O, thinke what such a sorrowe was, such puis-
sant grief, dismaie and uttermoste despaire!

Whenere this story in Cipher doth push ope th' sepul-
ture door, strip the clothes and napkins which would con-
fine it from offe its feet, and so stepp out among living
human beings, my inmost heart must be reveal'd, open as
upon God's great day of a last judgment. Make your
work as the voyce that shall commande it to rise, stand
forth, and tell to mankinde \ts secret woe.

I use words to indicate the part of my life in France,
using the keyes as just given with but a few added, such as
Paris, France, court, Charles, Henry. Joyne minde or
braine (with the faculties) also spirit, soule, the* conscience
with heart, and the other words signifying affection, love,
hate, envie, antipathy and like passio's. In example o'
it turne t' Cymbeline, 'actus primus, scena secunda, by
(Queene) see (Love) (Heart) both by the key-words nam'd
in my latest list, thus setting off to another use each of the
sections so shewne. So ever Marlow, Peele, Greene, or
aniething which doth containe the storie of the stay in
Margaret's sunshinie France.

Assorte out into drawers and boxes that so they may

*Henry the Fourth, Part I.

184 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

bee convenient to your hand, on the one hand putting all
o' the earlier -history keies, on the other th' double-keyes
of the later part. Never cease i' the pursuite until the
worke be ended. So may most precious writings of my
owne brother's be read, as I did include a part of his his-
tory o' th' Armada from Spaine. It is that part where
Palmer doth pursew (all that night, indeede, after brave
action) in the rear o' the flying spirit-like sails o' the Span-
ish vessels. Every line was written ere those bragging
Jackes arrived at the harbours from which they had sailed
a few months before.

Making your next portion of worke the Armada from
Spaine, it may soone be scene a number o' keies must now
have attentio', and many be joined to them.

Mary did enjoyne upon Phillip such a course, and, as
in many cases, the subjects did have greater love and more
devotion to the Head of their Church then truth and loy-
alty to eyther country or Queene, there was somewhat o'
confidence wanting as rumours o' the Armada reached the
farre-away seamen. When they put out, many hundred
Englishmen, of whatever communion, rose in defense. The
love o' home is a stronger affection, in some doughtie ser-
vants of the Pope, and of England, then the love of things
which pertain chiefly to that religion of which much is
rumoured but much lesse knowne.

I shall not make much of this subject then, when writ-
ing, as ev'n moe zealous and blinded servants of the Church
o' the old religion, rous'd with fury, did run to fight inso-
lent Spaine, to protect life and home, then came t' ayde
(summon'd to assist by the Pope's comma'd) indeed few
made anie signe to manifest their allegiance to ought but
England.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 185

In our Second Henrie Fourth, you will finde keyes that
ope most heavie doors, if you seek * dilligently. These are
words, and you neere would wish any other subtile marke,
so plain doe all keies shewe the designe. To these you
conjoyne divers wordes which stand a fewe spaces from
the keyes and are so well chosen that though oft used,
my plans are thereby not seene and marke that which
doth shewe the portions which must be built up like the
stone walles o' a castle. But the workes, when you shal
have finished them must reveale a strength shielding
beautie.

Make this booke a great story of a stirring, fierie-tem-
pered man, who fought brave battels for Elizabeth, not
meerely in this warre with Spaine that you are now to
write out, but in severall which I do give in full in my
history.

No enemy doth so doughtily throw downe his bold
defiant challenge as Philip, true sonne of Spaine; none
takes up that glove with greater ease or with more won-
derous skill then Elizab'th. She it is that we shall throw
light upon now, for writing at a time of so much danger
the penne was mild. Men in such bold history whom I
thrust most to your presence, may neede have some time
to plead for mercy at God's high throne, when their many
crimes, hired to be performed, are unveiled.

Sin oft strongly warres in th' mind, and if no murther-
ous act be done, bears wrong much yoked with humil'ty,
but if crime be on a person's hands, manie a rout o' jeeri'g
divels come into his soule o' which the worst is pride. So
fared Her Ma., Queene Elizabeth.

Her whole spirit was but one inf email * region, a realm

*Henry the Fourth, Part II.

*Othello.

186 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

o' Pluto, untold days i' her times of mirth, or times of staid
and verie grave deportment; for the blood of her youngest
borne was upon her royall hand, if not that of manie
others, heirs to a future o' paine. I' sooth none can div'lge
her greatest harmes, for this world's eyes have no worthy
use, but all shunn the vision o' shame, especially in this
Queene. Her vanity may seeme most veniall even, but
vaine motives lay at the bottome o' everything which this
woman did.

She was my mother, yet I more then anie other have
cause to curse her. I answer here a few of the world's
accusations. I, after insult above your just conceit, I open
my hard lips for my first lengthy complaint, uttering here
much of the gall and naturall wrath my burdened heart
has carried many a yeere. Have patience, I prithee, my
worthy friend, and continue your writing, untill my his-
tory at least has been co'pleatlie finished; then if it must
bee left, it must bee, yet do you keep in mind one thing
it is this 1 now must we see the glancing of Fortune's light,
to th' desire of my unsubmiss soule; some will be pleas'd,
I doubt not, to yeeld.

If your pen have no glory, it, indeed, is by some short-
coming of your owne, for I have prepared the way to for-
tune and high favo'. You may be my voyce to utte' the
words I would fain speak, yet, should you refuse, another
browe will winn the rigoll.

If hate's venom leave a soule doom'd, no ray does light
mine awefull tombe, no sun sweetly ilume th' waye.

With Thee is hope, forgiveness, peace, O God, Father
of light, and Author of our being.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. IS?

Pilate said, when hee had framed a title for the King
of the Jews, "What. I have written, I have written." Thus
must my work of this nature be left as it is, and that which
is my onely honor may put vastly more happinesse upon
us. No men's heirs of empty honours do outvie my right
witty and much valued friend, th' man who raveled these
threads. I burthen one, who to do my old friend of truth
and much constancy, justice, must not be of our time, and
my wish is that my whole workes should bee for you' good.

By my tones I shewe first various waies to direct the eie
to any portions o' the Cypher. Truth to say th' winds
change lesse in the daie then doth th' guiding hand. I
took for mine instru'tion the signs o' some forme that is
helde worthy but use no such important marks, except
th' dot, to shew when our shifts should be furder. You
then turn to my guide word, finde by your small table
which o' th' numerous works is indicated: next seeke the
word-keye and write what you * there finde.

Each of the stories thus made to relate a part that is
but half made out for this slower waye we employ doth
concern my others but when it has all ben work'd out,
my method will be thought marvellous. It manie times
is given with fear of faile, warring i' the spirit with fear
of a worse result.

Too clear meanes were not of acc't, for th' restlesse eyes
o' foes watched my worke, to finde a thread to twiste into
the loop of th' executio'r; too dense, concealed noe less th'
much valew'd guiding hand which ledd to the Cypher.
Sundry words shewe my works as scene in my Instauratio;
severall more have anothe' name to marke them as well, as
you will see, very exceptionall, or rather, I may say, quite

*Richard the Second.

188 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

originall and unequaled use. I make them to shut out all
but this f aithf nil decipherer, for the instructions, rules, and
so forth, are widelie scattered. I do not give sufficient in
any one of these playes to bewray my Cipher, but he who
hath turn'd aside for no fleet footed Siren 4 or Nymphe,
will enter into a richer store of goldene treasure even then
he has dre'mt of, for I lead his eager steps. Hence I say
again to you, do you keep pressing on for a day shall
come that shall bring its dues of joy. Life is but one
sh'rt race ; it doth not twice reward us.

It is well to know a crown can one o' these good days
be put on an imortall crowne that ruste shall do no ill,
nor evill men deny to such as do inherite it, or winne in
any sorte of strife of th' poets authors with brother au-
thors. It awaits one whom Time maketh Truth's expos'tor,
for he who may unseen, though himself simply serving
a knowne, * I may say an honour'd man, write and pub-
lish the secrets I do thus conceale, may have more glory,
more fame, even then he hath who taketh a city.

Whatsoever of honour, of fame, or glory my work hath,
th' great reward giv'n unto him, my friend, (my truthfull
minde now open'd fully to it would make avowall) of
equall braine, hand and heart, as is plainly indicated by his
ability to search out my story, must bee even greater.
This then shall crowne your head: it can fal to no other
even after we have turned t' clay, for you must be first
whoever Time bringeth afte' you.

A man's achievements truely do out-live man, or his
love or hate, bitter as the one may be and sweet th' other.
The long silence will not lie eternall ages on the tongue,
but in his writings is a new life. Mind this amidst all
discourageme'ts.

*Anthony and Cleopatra.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 189

Time shall reward our patience if we do trulie well, and
await the daye; if our worke be ill, the yeeres will pointe
the finge' of scorn at us. I would be no object of such
attention, yet do I seeke the noting eies of posterity and
write for men not living on th' face o' earth. Th' ^Eons
that are to be, doe not so rudely plunge men o' mark'd
eminence into old-time idole night, at least not in full
compleat and pe'fecte possession of remarkable pow'rs.
Thus I put a calme, brave, enduring ev'n chearfull
heart ever in my looks, nor turn my eies fro' a mark in
Fame's targ't.

When you have fully collected the keies into such part
of your working-roome as shall not bee disturbed, begin
your task by assorteing your keys. You should not use
more of them than I give in th' small table; note also that
these must not be used as you open'd divers books, with
noe order, no method, no system, but these are links i' th'
long chaine. All are guides t' another part o' the secret
plays and my many poemes that are hidden in workes of
any valew, that I have sent out since I invented my first
small Cypher while I was in Paris in my early youth.

When one will take the work noe furder, you use others,
but if you wo'ld keepe keys in th' order of my owne table
you must finde it of great aide i' th' work. Remember,
well gleaned keies must vary i' the apparent use. Finde
some table as above; manie may be seen in your work cer-
tainlie even now, since you must finde some in each play;
these are good ayds. If the table changes as I form
Cypher plays, it is because I sek to avoid confusion.

My first and sixth Cyphers appear even more in some
unpublisht poems of my early yeares, and my rules are
explained therein with such sundry notes, designed to

190 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

render aide in the work, as well as to give to book-lovers,
or cursory readers even, factes relating unto this matter
handled, that it was too evident and clear.

With the kingdome still greater in fact then most, 'tis
not then bold to dub myself heir to one o' those happily
plac'd realms ev'n old Neptune's waters keepe from every
harme and threat of danger. Yet in this work o' my hands
I am heire-apparent to a much loftier seate, a scepter of
pow'r that must ev'n extende to posterity. Nor time nor
death can take my second kingdome from me. But future
ages shall crowne you king of many more farre-extendmg.
The royall scutcheon of your worthy arms shall shine as
the sunne, fill your mindes eyes with dazzling light and .
glory, turn darkest night to daie and scatter every cloude.
Each booke truelie doth make the glory greater, but with-
out my help * you could not hope just or generous atte'tion
will be given you, for I do compas this end at least.

No subject which hath a place o' state in the written
bookes, shall be lost to th' carefull kindlie person that doth
so finde this secret, and th' story he shall take from this
Cypher may ever reveale each : the one which is of import-
ance here doth ch'efly concern him that speaks to you in
this maner.

No doubt I will shew manie errours each day. When
Art's maske is in ruins marke well those features behind
it; when Nature lifts the veil that conceals th' First or
Primal Cause, there shall stande reveal'd one [not] now
recognized; so then shal Reputation be knowne as it is
and not as it is thought; Fortune, also Honor and Truth,
shall be seen in Time.

It is your hand which shall make all th' right to be
knowne, else shall our dust, lying in its tombe unhonour'd

*Cymbeline.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 191

by love and estime such as is given unto other royall
Princes, feel in its least particle the wrongs that I beare.

I have placed in many of my latest works the Cypher
that is to intimate and pointe out some others, while it
hath so small use in works of length, that I speak of it
rarely. You find it oft in prose workes: it is symbols, and
as hath already beene said hath little use if your letter
be th' length ev'n that billet dnux are ofte made.

End your list so more you will not now finde nor
at anie time are your more thoroughly culled tables to
bee left and laid aside, as th' new names are given, but
all are used. You doubtlesse observe this in numberlesse
places when writing.* If some o' the words are (as these
above) but rarely used, it doth even more conceale a
Cipher mystery. In soe farre as wordes having a double
use (double Cypher being oft shewne in the same work)
naturally occurring for names of the writer, could be varied
and imploied, such have had the chief e place; but, as this
could not be used in all the plays, do not looke for the
other epistle if you be onelie a curious seeker.

Enter upon the queast with zeale, or, at least, in an
earnest frame of minde. It doth ever assure a good course.
Finish the portion given here, the' take Cypher number
six and work out the first letter, as it hath a part of a
plan that I have carried on in these other Cyphers; but
for the double use, take its numerous full directions found
in this place.

I havfe oft put the most usef ull hints of all in the more
difficile plays, i. e., the plays that are made up chieflie
of fragments. When one Cypher hath part of a rule (the
rules plac'd in this Bi-literall and the Word Cipher in my

*Hamlet.

192 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

workes, however, forme an exception) others near this one
have parts of it also.

The play of Hamlet hath the commencement of a
Cipher rule of no small interest. One called a Time
Cypher, because numbers were keyes, sheweth you th'
first o' th' directions, the Bi-literall, the second, and the
capitall letter Cypher hath the last. No more are needed
for these letters i' th' plays then you shall by this time
have, or at the most must soon come acrosse, and I requeast
you to finde th' rule concealed, first in Henry the Seve'th,
then explained in one o' the playes.

Err not in my worke. Hope quickens to duty: trust
conquers all: for truth is as the crowne won in th' race.
'Tis evermore th' part of an eager runner if successe bee
desired, to keepe on bravely to th' goale, for 'tis unto him
a crowne is given who doth claime the prize alone, through
his timely efforts and his perseverance.

In study hope may in part aide you. Keepe a most
cautious watchfull eye on that foe to your worke, a love
of pleasure, and on his sister, idlenesse, for of their com-
panionship no good doth come. Take our lampe as your
onely guide, and stay but to see th' lustrous gem-studded
sceptre that doth appeare f arre to reach, but shall asuredly
command much that doth lesse please then honor, for I
haste on i' fond hope of some othe', better or fuller and
richer reward.

The thought which gives t' my weak courage assurance
of truth's finall triumphe seems feeble, ev'n,to some,
folly, yet better men oft seeke their fame with as great
love of th' vaporous breath of worldly plaudits. You but
imagine that my ordeal would be so much lighte', my
owne life much better, if to our future we portray as so

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 193

much to be desired, a due measure of ease and wealth be
given.

Look in former works explaining plans we have formed
to ayde our many seekers afte' greatnesse, such as do not
cower if it be Troy to winn, or Helena's faire face to see:
gaily they go. So sure is my hero of your ayde, o' due
zeale in his arduous * undertaking, that we leave him.

A key t' unlocke will Fortuna now set forth, and his
turning will ope most lordly portalls. Followe whithe' a
man's steps mark yon way, as I gave her many a faint
pursuer as an inception to this quest. Taking each at the
test you may prove great, and doubly win honor. Worlds,
yes the univearse, may note our acts and we may open
every tragedie of our own history, but to mince my woes,
or vaunt unseemlie wrongs to me, although it may be a
constant temptation, are both so truly unjust, so futile,
that I will no longe' spende man's quickly flitting weeks
in bemoneing the woes o' my youth.

I may then to this labour apply both fervour and joy,
for so shal my loved books take many more o' th' thoughts
of the tryall yet to be. From livi'g so much in Paris I
have a truly Fre'ch spirit. Th' love of inquiry so employs
a mind from morn's wydelie sent e'rly beames to eve's
final parti'g fro' the earth, or, truly saying, till tapers
are burn'd low, the faire hand o' Science leades to th'
hightes with so sweet a grace, no man could resist. There-
for' shall I make studie not alone th' attendant o' every
day, but, as well, th' bosom friend. Studie doth fill a
hung'ring minde, while it leaveth behind still greater
desires to attai' to all heights, and sou'd those wondrous
seas mortal man hath nere su'mounted or sounded.

*Richard the Third.

194 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

For many earlier lines o' th' play I heere am making
cleare to my followers i' th' other (or Word-Cipher) that
of Eduard shal be th' next joined after Timon. Th' latter
hath much later rend'ri'g of events, for not much o' his
life is con tain' d in works of anie extente. Mark your
keyes, resting not until you slothful shal be found, or
fluctuating. Since I upon all of these most precious
books have nere ask'd one word, nor said one to winne
praise to my name, it must bee loste study if left.

A true love o' my Ciphe' work, old as manie of such
must be, (indeed I name part of a series, which a more
industrious man must too oft consider is too meage') is
one of the best aides, for no work handl'd as mine, what
woful tale so-e'er it may tell, can be dull. Oft many may
seeme winnow'd o' just morale essays or sermons, but
much wrought and drawn out into plaies, yet is my truest
labor so full o' dramaticall events with numerous scenicke
aydes, it may not astonish my decypherer if I write my
life as a plaie.* If he shall discover this in th' play here
seene, th' many keys should next be arrang'd or the differ-
ent scenes were easilie changed.

This work, like th' followi'g, that will soon be found,
requireth much of carefull, I, [ay] zealous asking at the
Throne of Life and o' all true Wisedome ere it may be
undertaken, but none should goe back who have sought
t' enter at a gate which doth open into an ingenious maze
not yet f olowed half e waye to our more choice, or th' last
story of our Court-life.* Observe my consta't timely
Cipher aides that I have plac'd i' th' most of my play of
Winter's Tale. You' eye will note such but by keeping
vig'lant watch. Manie words round a part of the Cypher

*Timon of Athens.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 195

have use as well. For example, words I intend to be th'
rules to follow and note, for o' all my deciph'rers ayds,
at first th' best is that of an easily scene guiding word, or
key which shall be your oft lost but ever readie servant,
coming if sought and alway directing you i' th' way you
should go.

Beare in minde that hee is like Prospero's quicke spirit,
Ariell, as airy as our owne breath, therefore your eyes
while sometimes afarre off could espie this one aydante,
Pan. My plan so wisely useth Pan much more, as may
quickly be seen, then Nature, but do not lose eyther one
of these. With Reputation, Honour, Fortune, Truth and
th' Art now in hand, you have all that'you need at present
to carry on the work. However, o' th' most o' th' rules/
keep ever watch.

Look for my works that hidden truth may upon errour
throw light. In some of my oldest plays many wordes,
e. g., men, wronges, unkinde, jeer, oaths, etcaetera, in
every act, would attract too much attentio' therefore I have
varied the keyes using different ones for th' different
parts of th' same storie, yet keeping two or three through-
out. Most wordes signify other thinges to put th' parts
which accord in position or to name a worke.

I have here no verie great field for any kinde of plaie,
or a work most men think great, i. e., the men who only
consider a wonder. If strange thinges, so filled with
marvells that none read understandingly, come before
them, t' these wise seekers they seeme most worthy, but
commonplacenesse is to them a folly. But my decipherer
shall not be deprived ruthlesselie of this worke, nor I of
my due reward when this shall be understood.

St. ALBAN.

196 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

(Old Wives Tales should follow here, but original
is not in hand. Twelfth Night commences thus with
an incomplete subject.)

This play hath both. By such a manner much of this
may be used for the other Cipher, and many days thereby
turn'd to greate' matters. As in Old Wives, if a word
would attract attentio' by such mark'd and peculiarly
shaped letters, it would in no wave bee in great perill.

My keyes were form'd before one o' my plays was put
together and all was very well plann'd. Old men might
faile to see a curious, or rather a peculiar commingling
of letters in th' pointed pages sent out, but young eyes
might note it, therefore there are some markes emploied
for signes to my decypherer yours would see in truth
more quickly and so no evills hap from so daring an
experiment. In my Historic of Henry th' Seventh this is
explain'd. Omit Finis Actus. It may add t' your confusion
in the beginning but you can understand my other Cipher
must have occasionally a fewe more letters. These, hav-
ing beene us'd in your former work as you remember, will
have moved inquiry. If you inquir'd of anyone except
myself e, how should it bring a replie? This is for your-
selfe. None but he that holdeth my keyes should make
attempt to read Cyphers and one who hath a key should
rest not yet till he hath searched out all hidden matters.

It is to man's glory to finde out secrets. Th' wise have
th' fruit o' much labour o' othe' men and do more profitt
thereby then they themselves. Thus shal you reap where
we have sown if you wearie not before nightfall.

When Henry th' Seventh is joyn'd with th' six stage
plays first sent forth i' this name, that Cypher we now

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 197

would fain see wrought out can be discover'd. This also
should not bee left out. I have oft nam'd some works in
these unimporta't methods, (i. e., th' ways that were
auxiliaries to th' principall one, that ayde th' work
greatly) to put all huntsmen off th' scent. By use o' words
o' lesse mark then th' names, I can * give my decyph'rer
signes and directions knowne but to us.

To this short waye of giving necesarie aide to hasten
forwards this work, I owe th' great advancem'nt. Wherein
we could alter your letters and give some hint to help to
ayd you' wit (it is such an excellent art) we ventur'd
upon it ere, in such clear manner, it had been noted. It
is manifest also that you will not work in the dark long.
To you, in sundrie wayes, our plann hath been for some
yeers, as it is to my own minde, and your quick sense doth
see when the law of my letters is broken, and many repe-
titio's of offence, or disregarde of th' known law must
not seeme too frequent. Employ some meanes for setting
right th' wosk. Our letters will soon returne to the form
you have used save th' two (E and G) which wee alter
throughout th' plays because in th' six containing another,
th' capitall letters are us'd againe.

A story may relate secret matters. It is th' part of a
prudent writer indeed to guard against surprises. This
you should understand, yourselfe, or asuredly you will in
due time. A secret is verilie in the numerous writings
nam'd some time ago, hoping then my hand might have
done well all that I did uptake.

Next write -a comedy, a quaint * device for making
knowne th' men that cio give, lend, sell, or in : anie othe'
waye, have put me into possession of their names. These

*Comedy of Errors. *Midsummer Night's Dream.

198 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

I have us'd as disguises that my name might not bee seen
attached to any poem, stage-play, or anie of th' light
workes o' this day.

The cause of this is clear. Not alone for pride in our
choyse o' science for a fiel' of hard labour, but also that
I might be at liberty to use these workes as the exteriour
letter, hiding my secret writi'gs, as no other person is
cogniza't of the work save my foster-brother Anthony, my
owne brother Robert, Ben lonson, my friend, adviser and
assistant, and our private secretary, yet for the exteriour
part we imploie many amanuenses, for we can keepe sev-
erall employed when reading our plays for our finall
review, or when assembling th' parts.

Th' title of th' comedy is Seven Wise Men of th'
West. Actors' names: Robert, Christoph'r, William,
another Robert, George, Edmund and Frances. The
scene is London. Other name' to find parts are: th'
pedant, braggart, foole, hedge-priest, boy, poet, philos-
opher.

*Witn these as keies you can decypher this, as I said,
and as you bring out scenes of much witinesse both i' th'
language, and in th' gestures, actio' and situations, you
yourselfe shall bee well entertain'd, I assure you, since it
is as well plan'd as the workes that have been put out, and
as well finish'd.

When this hath been intirely decypher'd, a tragedie
in five acts followeth it, agreeing in manie of th' keies,
because of th' names and synonyma againe used. It is
what every man's memory yet is aware of: A Tragedy
of Marlow. A servant is to be addged the unworthie one
by whom Marlowe's life was taken Francis Archer. As

*As You Like It.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 199

th' joyni'g words are different from th' comedy, there will
be no danger o' getting th' parts commingPd.

Many other keyes are now giVn as followeth: Tav-
ernes, courtezan, inn-keeper, brawl, fray, dagger, wine,
moonlight, blood, friends, death, funerall. A part of
your materiall will be in tragedy of excellence * publish'd
in this work, and this is to make search a pleasant taske.
But a large part of one of th' acts is from works publish'd
in his name. It needeth not to say this concerneth not
Marlowe's death but his life. This often gave me a
theame of sad interest.

Th' remaining acts you will get in th' Essays and these
Shakespeare plays. Th' greater part of the aforesaid
comedie is in these comedies, and a large portion of this
story o' Marlowe, in the tragedies.

Anothe' history is to be decypher'd that taketh up all
Eliza would faine leave t' Time's blindnesse. In th' play
we give th' story some o' th' strange plainnes utter each
true, hard charge, in boldnesse borne of a timoro's spirit
made bold in its sure hiding, as a timorous hare in its
refuge doth brave th' harrier no spirit would bee daring
enough to reveal in his work, havi'g a title leaf which
doth bear his name, old, ominous, night stories of a mighty
Queene. His life would bee the forfeit mine much
more since she is my mother; yet it herein hideth, and
besides it is more vailed by my pen-names.

The story o' th' Armado is told twice as it fonneth
part of our latest stage-play (of this now in your hand)
and part of my Ciphe' epics that have doubtlessly been
found. This historic fonneth one in a series of five (in
Cipher) and with eight in comedy and tragedy (also

*Love's Labor's Lost.

200 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Cipher) compleates the dramas of your twice concealed
work, once with my names and once with my devices.

As I have often said, and as you well know by this
time, you have poems and prose workes on divers theames
in all such various stiles as are put before th' world as
Greene's, as Shakespeare's, Burto's, as Peele's, Spenser's,
as Marlowe's, as Jonso' dramas or my own long devis'd
and but well begun labour, then which none hath a
better object, for I varied my stile to suit different men,
since no two shew th' same taste and like imagination,
and all doth containe th' great Cypher I constantlie teach,
although I may not freely place th' rules among a great
part which is not of th' nature of most histories, but
revealeth many secrets and is not afear'd to utter truth,
when a guard so hemmeth up th' way dange' cannot harie.
These true words would cost us dearly, were one of th'
tales * so much, even, as whisper'd in some willing eare;
yet for the sake of truth, humanity, and justice, yea
honour also, we resolv'd to write these histories, and thus
disguised, leave them for wits in th' ages adown Time's
great rolling rive'.

We still stand close at hand (our wishes should wield
some power) for th' protection rightfullie ow'd to th'
workes, yet it is to bee desir'd that obscurity may wrap
them found awhile, perchance untill my life of Time may
slip unnoted and unregreted from th' earth. One doth
not have wild passionate desires and longings for power,
when the light from th' Eternall Throne doth fall on him,
but we would leave a name and a work men must honour.
'Tis th' hope that helped me woo poetry, to pursue Muses,
to weave dramas, to delve deep in sciences, to pore over
philosophic.

*Two Gentelmen of Verona.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 201

And 'tis to posterity I looke for honor, farre off in
time and in place, yet should Fame sound her sweet ton'd
trump before mee here and at this time; and there is that
in midst wondrous dreams maketh such strong protest
against th' doom o' oblivion, it is made most plain to me
th' houre shall yet strike, when England shall honour me,
their ill-fated Prince, whom all the Destinies combin'd
to curse, and thwart each effort to obtaine that title
Prince o' Wales which was in truth many a day rightlie
my owne.

And afterwards my stile should justlie have beene
Francis First of England, and yet of this no words
availe. Too late it would bee now that all our witnesses
are dead, our certificat's destroy'd to bring in a clayme
to th' English throne. It would soone bring my death

about.

F. BACO'.

*Any one who can read th' plain marks plac'd in th'
letters can write my Cypher plays and th' stories; but
he that heedeth my signes lesse, can onlie work out part
o' th' rules, small portions of arguments, and get barely
an outline of th' work.

You must therefore have my suggestions in your minde
and be watchfull, lest you have a difficult taske where I
have labour'd to make straight paths for you, while other
men are led astray, reasoning in my minde in this waye:
Hee who seeth th' signes must mark some significance or
designe, but most men will suppose this to rest entirely
in the marks and will finde nothing; while my more
experienc'd decipherer, if he have found out any o' my

*Merchant of Venice.

202 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

directio's, will soone learn th' meaning, and by th' use
of mark'd letters in saying this, it will not bee expos'd to
other eies.

As some of the plaies are histories they are not alwayes
mentioned as dramas, but I will now make out a table (i'
Cipher) naming all you are to decypher. There are five
Histories as followes: The Life o' Elizabeth, The Life
of Essex, The White Rose o' Britaine, The Life and
Death of Edward Third, The Life of Henry th' Sevent;
five Tragedies: Mary Queene o' Scots, Robert th' Earle
o' Essex, (my late brother) Robert th' Earle o' Leicester
(my late father), Death o' Marlowe, Anne Bullen; three
Comedies: Seven Wise Men o' th' West, Solomon th'
Second, The Mouse-Trap.

The keies and th' arguments do not follow at this
point, but are given elsewhere. There are three notable
Epics which are from Greeke (Homer) and that Latine
(similar partly in theame) of great Virgill; and a history,
in prose commixt with verse, of England and a fewe
Englishmen whose lives in greater or lesse degree affected
ours. ,

A list is given in early poemes see B. I. et csetera
with some of the titles you have so lately found. Also a
fewe small poems in manie of our early workes of various
kinds, which are in th' Trench language, tell a tale of
love when life in its prime of youth and strength sang
sweetlie to mine eare, and in th' heart-beats could one
song e'er be heard, and yet is heard.

F. St. A.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 203

*As our work still needeth a patient hand, we trust th'
decypherer is not inclin'd to forsake these plays at present.
Our keies for th' story of sweet Marguerite, (as many of
its lines can bee found when the play that is now in your
hand shall be search'd) are heere repeated in my bi-literal
Cypher to assure the finding and working out of her
historie which was to me labour of love to write, but to
my sorrowe, my love was labour lost. Yet a certaine.
degree of sadnesse is to th' young pleasurable, and I
desir'd by no means to be free of the paine. ******

This list co'taineth all the important keys as they were
used when writing [her] history, and we have so wrapt
it up in plain rule', or signes, we are co'fident this long
tale will not seeme wearisome to you, for we would wish
you might leave out nothing of a history of one who
cannot bee banisht from my memorie while this heart doth
live and beat, but we are aware it cannot interesse others
in like degree. To me it will be th' dream, day and
night, that never will be ought but a vision, and yet is
farre more reall than all things else.

When th' history shall at length be completed, a little
booke mention'd some time since may be written. It is
French, to please Margaret, but very short and is in
severall small divisions. It is writte' with th' same keys
as th' preceeding, but th' words us'd in matching parts
together were of French, so that there is little .dange' of
making this othe' then we plann'd a book of French
poems.

Your next should be my Life at th' Court of France,
then a drama, Mary Queene of Scots, which is folowed
by anothe' drama. Work out the play with th' first style

"Taming of the Shrew.

204 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

before you begin the second, for they were written to
make out my long list of th' histories.

F. B.

*Any play publisht as Marlowe's, came from th' same
source as all which you will now work out. A name
hath no limits or bounds, it is somewhat like Charitie.
If you have written all this in order a supposition very
improbable you know the names chosen as masks.

Greene, Spense', Peele, Shakespeare, Burton, and Mar-
ley, as you may somewhere see it, or, as it is usually giv'n,
Marlowe, have thus farre been my masks, which have
caused no mark'd surprise because they have familia'
name' on th' title page, not fancied, but of living men, at
the least, of men who have lived.

A few works also beare th' name o' my friend, Ben
Jonson these are Sejanus and th' Masques, used to con-
ceale the Illiads chiefly, and to make use o' my newe
Cypher. If th' writings are lost no part o' my Cypher
work will be so greatly injured as Homer, or my bolde,
youthfull, but worthie rendering of it into our language.

A work of such magnitude as th' Iliads could not well
bee twice given in Cypher, but many o' th' other writings
are repeated in principall things, preventing by this
device th' entire losse in case others shall bee destroy'd.
You can as hath beene pointed out write Marlowe, a
tragedy of great interest and o' some dramatick power,
but not so great a work, nor so estimable as th' tragicall
histories of my brother and father. jSTot all our exterior
plays are of equall value as dramaticall workes, for it is
often difficult if even possible, to write manie plays that

*Merry Wives of Windsor.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS.

205

contain Cypher material!, and at all times place both th'
interior and exteriour plays duely, giving advantages to
merit whether it may appeare in one or another. But
I have said what must be needlesse if this work have had
faithfull service for it doth prove these words many times
ove'.

As this play is now studied with new rules for my
Cypher work, I am assured progress upon it may truly
improve. If paines be take' to see such names as are
plac'd here, my owne as to most men I am known Bacon
doth plainly stand forth. My true title sheweth in
Cypher againe and againe, Francis First, King of Great
Britaine and Ireland, or in playes of a somewhat earlier
date, various stiles: Th' Prince; the true heire to the
throne; th' Prince of Wales; th' first-born sonne t' Eliza-
beth; sonne to th' Queene and heyre-apparent, since I
was entitl'd in justice to all these before th' death of
Elizabeth, my mother, th' virgin as she wish'd to be
consider'd who rul'd with a strong [hand] over Eng-
land, and me.

Her will was like stern iron-hearte' kings of days o'
yore, but she was vain withal and loved th' admiration
of all men, especially of princely visitors * coming t' wooe.
All suitors (much as th' first commer) for some reason
had such hope of successe as turn'd some heads, no
mentio' being made of impediments, th' Duke of Anjou
paying the compliment of an arrangement whereby their
sonnes should receive instructio' in Roman Catholicke
faith, the daughters in th' Protestant. Such play did
well agree, su'ting Elizabeth's vain soule and nursing a
kind of pride, akin to ill-starr'd Marguerite's, and to her
sadder fated mother's faire Anne Bullen's.

*Measure for Measure.

206 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Her wisedom, however, saved her in this, as th' love
of devotion was th' surface of [her] characte' not a
main curent. It will be noted when her whole life is
decipher'd, that she did inherit much of th' sterne dis-
position that characterized her sire and grandsire. Henry,
sire, shew'd it lesse, as it mingled with heartinesse and
fresh spirites, but as every Tudor, downe from our ances-
tors to one nam'd Robert, loved his owne will ,and his
owne waye, "Merry Harry," marke you, conceal'd some
of it under a maske of good-nature. As this part may
soon be done I put my word-keyes in all o' th' rest o'
these comedies. * * * *

With these keyes our historic of Elizabeth is to be de-
cypher'd. If care be taken to keep th' parts separate in
writing-deske and drawers, untill the table of words that
is us'd in bringing all these parts together shall have
beene prepared, none can get astray and th' work will be
made easier. This part o' my charge to you is oft
repeated since it is of prime importance, and a prope',
constant observance of the same will greatlie facilitate
this task.

You have neede both of patient and orderly habits to
become a good decyph'rer, and you must aim to attaine
these if not already th' fortunate possessor of all th' desir-
able vertues of a Cypher reader. Assuredly th' work that
we have spent all th' best yeeres of life upon, would not
clayme too wide notice nor too great fervou'.

Some do not fully know o' th' imminent perill that
overhung my life at th' time the plays were put forth, nor
could one word of my birth and title bee publisht if not
wrapt upp, mixed, disguis'd. Hence, if the decyphere'
faile me, it will never be scene of anie eye save my owne.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 207

None is able to put all th' fragments of history in place if
he bee uninstructed. It is a seal'd book if it have not my
faithfull interpreter.

* We place as great vaiue upon this play as we shall
[on] any we can write, for it is our own fathe', his life,
a theme soe much in my owne dark memory that I must
needes think of it oft, and thus its wrongs moving strong
indignation within me, my tongue and penne are fired to
eloquence. And th' scenes do shew th' fury o' th' heart
within them th' words burne with a celestiall light, for
to my soul it lent its ray divine, even as I wrote.

Whosoever may question assertions that tend to shew t"
mankinde evidences of a divine thought interfusing th'
human minde, hath but to prove it by experiment. He
would not bee ready to cavil, or laugh to scorn this asser-
tion, which I may repeate anon, that Divine aide was given
mee in my work. I have, at th' least, accomplished a
great work in fewe yeares, work of such a difficult nature
that no one hand could accomplish, except other than
myselfe upheld or directed it. This howeve' doth not
further our fame, or affect this work now, to taxe your
most subtile wit and penetration, and should not further
take th' time requir'd to complete our work.

Two comedies we hid in Ciphe', and in the lists nam'd,
have no more worth than many others but will repaie th'
trouble of decyphering, for they tell th' storie of my
maskes which began in Th' Seven Wise Men of th' West,
as you know, and have all th' men as th' actours that are
nam'd in it. For these you will seeke keyes to the one
nam'd as Solomon th' Second. They are i' th'

(Tale of Troy & Hiren the Fairie Greek should follow.)

*Muoh Ado About Nothing.

208 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

* You can now without difficulty write th' three come-
dies that were shewn you. All th' keies have beene given,
and th' stories related in so clear and fine a manner that
you have onely to apply yourselfe and persevere. The
work is ready and doth wait your hand, as blocks of stone
that are prepar'd and polished for th' builder, aye, and
marked that each may be fitted into its place.

This aydeth very greatly th' taske of bringing th' parts,
that have beene separated, backe agayne into th' proper
relations. If care be taken it should not require great
skill, nor more yeares then I have giv'n to th' work.
Patience should have perfect labour in my devices, also
most constant and untiring perseverance, for these are
principal vertues in a decipherer. And as I keep the
future ever in my plann, looking for my reward, not to
my times or countreymen, but to a people very far off,
and an age not like our owne, but a second golden age of
learning, so keepe your owne thoughts on a day to be,
when all these workes being seen of men, your fame, with
mine, shall ring th' earth around and eccho to th' Ages
that are still farre down Time's shadowie wave. Truth
shall come forth at your word, and lay these cerement*
aside, as Lazarus, when he heard th' Master speak, arose.

St. ALBA'.

* Do royall brothers ever get so sad of heart as my
dearlye loved brother, but we are kin and we are of royal
blood too. Our lofty aym hopes by a new sorrow and
wrathfull Erinnys frighted then shewed duty how
much there is to winne.

'Winter's Tale. "Henry the Sixth, Part I.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 209

Crownes must be as of old, night and daytime well
attended, or some wild rout, waiting in ambush Eapin's
black, opportune time, without a warning steal th' glory
o' th' land, leaving behind them meerely desolatio'. This
was narrowly averted i' England, securely as her crown is
watcht, nor did these empty headed tools do ought but
obey a superior minde, that of my brother Essex. Th'
rebels might do his bidding meerely that was th' limitt
of their power or abilitie and he alone did lay his plann.

Had it not met the overturn deserv'd, th' younger of
th' sonns would inherite ere the elder. By law this could
occur onely when th' rightfull, or, as we name him in our
countrey, heire-apparent hath waived his rights. As I
was known, not as his brother onely, but as the Queene's
first-borne, such plots should at best naturally awaite my
full knowledge and consent. But puft up tlras with shew
o' militarie glory, an entrance to power (whose signes th'
robes, th' crowne, scepter and state so work'd o' his in-
flam'd phantasy, as to have farre more valew then royal
sword), openi'g with very small tap on his oute' doore, it
may bee onelie natural 1, and easily acompted for, though
not so easy to meet.

This was much aggravated in our mindes by some pri-
vate assurances that had so deceyv'd us, that we saw not a
signe of danger, but trusted his word, nor imputed those
assurances to ought but good will, expecti'g right and
honest trustworthinesse of Eobert D as a gentleman,
both by that royall blood that is our heirship, and by the
old-time gentle nurture he receiv'd as ward o' Devereux.

In fine his early youth was lightly passed, but after he
did know that 'twas th' Qaeene that gave liim life, he
grew imperious and (\\hen brought to Court by our truely

210 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

ingenious father, whom an evill sprite much troubled
e'en a jealousy o' some o' th' Queene's favoured lords that
did attend her), his will shew'd its true source, and re-
veal'd th' origin of th' young Csesar. And in th' after
time it could well be discern'd that he did draw deception
from it. Our fountain o' life hath much earthie sub-
stance. Ev'n i' this royall source were slimy spots, and
fro' it our blood took some slighte poyson, which assuredly
could not be accredited to th' noble daughter o' Sir
Francis Knowlles on the parte of young Essex, and lesse
on the part of myselfe, to a descendant o' honorable Sir
Anthony Cooke. But 'twas not poyson alone that we
took thus, nor shall succeeding violls beare one half so
great drops of black venom, for as it commingleth in an-
other fountain with nobler blood it becometh pure.

To our mother is th' fearlesnesse that Essex shewed to
be traced directlie, and that promptnesse of judgement in
a sudden calamity; but with sufficie't time given to delib-
erate, Essex, ev'n more than she, would shew a variety o'
opinions in so swift succession, you must use much witt
to gain one hee would give his name unto. When their
wills should be matcht, 'twere no light task t' decide as
to the result. Like his mother i' tempe' he could break,
but nere even slightly bend, and in the most of such
trialls, no end that most exasperating method o' contest
resulted in, could bee worth much as it was more fre-
quently accidentall then plann'd, therefore th' peace
could never long endure.

Such a flitting sunshine is sometimes th' brighte', more
golden, more dazzling. Those who were of a discreete
dissposition, bask'd in th' rayes, and smil'd while faire
skies did bend over us, but none knew when th' tempest's

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 211

wrath might change our bright daye to blacke night, and
a darknesse more dire (said some) then Egypt's plague,
cover heaven's dome.

Essex nere did ought in a spirit of revenge, but sim-
plie that hee might winne th' due rewards of courage or
of valor, if this doth in any manner better term such ver-
tue. His nature was not small, pettie, or ev'n dwarfed in
development. It was larger in many directions then any
who now censure and decry him, possesse. Among mil-
lions a voyce like his reach'd our listening, most attentive
ears. Wanting that sound, no other is sweete and this
silence is a paine.

That hee did wrong me, now is to bee forgot, and
wiped fro' th' minde's recollection, in my thoughts of the
evill that hath come to us (chiefly to myselfe) by this
rebellion o' th' Earle, but th' love and tender regard that
marked all our first sunny young days when wee were not-
oft to be found out o' harmonie, hath swaye. Those
houres still live in my memory, more then our first very
open and sore disputes.

But one thing, more even then pleasing and happy
variation of this one theame, crowds on my braine. O,
Heavenly Day! illume this night of Earth, for I am loste
in the many turnes of this wide waste o' desart. Let light
divine shine as in Moses, his weary way, when hee was
guided through th' sea, across wilds untrack'd to lands th'
people were, after tryall, given to possesse in peace, and
lead me unto my rest.

Th' paine th' memory of my part in th' tryal hath
power to make th' brightest day grow dun. Saving my
own life in this way, is paying much for that I would
indeed faine lose; my life no longer seemeth fay re, save

212 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

as I spend th' time for other's good. Th' labour of hands
and head shal better raise my monument up to men's
sight, then marble f aire, choyse ebonie, or brasse.

The workes I do, mid rankes truely ignorant of such
attempts, would seeme greater then th' parts th' men o'
my times have knowne of. Indeed it may not winn any
belief, since it would seem more then * th' hand of but a
mortall could (by anie manner of working at this daye
knowne to authours) unayded and alone performe. When
it shall beare more fruit then the penne of this truly note-
worthy youth that all praise, or that philosopher, whom
few even read to understand, the cause is clear enough for
you to acquainte all men with so much truth, which is
simply use o' th' time.

I do so emploie myself e that the minde doth not sooner
enter into labyrinthian turnings then my hand beginneth
its part of th' labour. When you do so completelie applie
your efforts and attention, you should accompte it to your
owne great gain, so greatly th' judicious use o' your much
valued howres shall bring reward.

A Cypher historic is hidden with pains herein, which
when my name doth stand thereto affixt can but allure
both busy publique men, and the idling, fawning, woman-
like sorts that even crown'd head cannot avoid. Th' work
is fill'd with events so interesting 'twill sometime appeare
to you like dreaming when, even from our workes which
tell th' secrets that must yet be kept from some men, seven
distinct and much consider'd, carefully poised and rightlie
estimed, prudent causes, at present warn our best friends
it is too soon to declare for their prince. And I some-
times am in feare that 'twill come at a most untimely (if

*Henry the Sixth, Part III.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 213

not post mortem) period, for it hath even now turned th'
marking point o' five decades. This then is more then a
half century o' such unsatisfied longi'g and desire for
justice.

Old men have been laid i' th' tombe and children have
become men, yet this matte' is in its feeble conditio'. 'Tis
still i' th' cradle, nor can I have great hope to see th'
maturity of this dearly lov'd, long cherisht dreame,
promise I might use a still stronge' or truer word since
it is sometime expectation. Then, too, sometimes th'
prize doth seeme quite near th' bowe in all th' clouds
doth give me most trust in th' Divine Eye watching th'
course of humane life, guarding, guiding every footstep,
and sharing our manie woes.

At times a divinity seemeth truly to carve rudely hew'd
ends into beauty, such as God must plan when we are
shaped in His thought, inasmuch as He can, aye, He doth,
see th' whole of life ere we draw th' first trembling breath.
This doth ayde us daily to climbe th' hights of Pisgah,
where, crossing over, our souls do see th' land of our long-
ing desire.

Mark my word-key es to unlock this play: They are
question, or any othe' method or forme by which th' in-
quiry I make is shewn in th' play. Should you see, now,
any answer lightly on tip o' toe come slily in, make sweete
her due welcome. Shee is th' faire little wife th' con-
sorte whose assistance is truly no way so unnecessarie as
you must think, or you would look for her at once. Then
find Queene, th' key for my owne portion of our history,
with names of royalty. To the words which pertain to
this realm add France, for it must contain in it one page
of my storie which some o' my latest books cannot give.

214 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Paris, with French stile or title make up th' rest, and th'
first two acts are prepar'd. Work them out.

* In my work intitl'd David, the tale that now is con-
tayned in Iambi, soe arrang'd to preserve stately ancient
usages and formes of speech, I have hidden th' most of
th' storie of Margaret's life, as any parts lent eyther grace
to its scenes or pathetick strains to its story. Of necessity,
th' birth of th' young son, to coste so cruell ill, doth have
no sort of place within her story. It appertayneth to
another story with quite simila' keies except the last
named.

The most of a play in this same name (Gre. Peele's),
The Arraignment o' Paris, continueth th' stories o' Mar-
garet's manie affaires du coeur, and being used also for th'
Iliad, must have your attentive eyes here at all times to
select, these keies and keep th' two separate. Remembe'
the Iliad is often to bee found in other works and, if time
were without end, it should be left untill all th' other
matter were decypher'd; so would my second taske be
easie' and not lesse pleasant.

It is a fine art this o' keeping each o' these twain
apart, nor losing th' rout o' keyes (much like untrain'd
soldiers) nor commixing th' parts that are to be conjoin'd,
just as stones that forme our pallaces are skilfully joyn'd,
one by one, after th' designe trac'd by th' master's hand:
that wonderfull grace shewed itselfe in this minde ev'n
before the plann was fully limn'd. Th' decypherer must
truely note that th' part he must take in th' work is that
of any labourer, th' designe being perfected yeares before
his eyes saw th' light: but no surer is honour to the name
o' th' inventour then to the decypherer, for they must

*Coriolanus.

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 215

assist as though they were th' braine and th' hands joyn'd
in man's body; and, with no one to ayde in th' taske, all
might remaine here unseen till th' end o' time.

Therefore, I beseech you serve me now untill th' work
shal be done, for fame is nearer then men know. None
who hear of this work could let so curious a labour of
your hand remain hid from them. So as Rumour doth
hasten afarre, your name will be heard from shore to
shore. Now must your time out-valew gold th' houres
seem Jewells, dayes th' diadem, for surelie in our wise use
o' it, doth our moment th' jot so minute 'tis seldom rec-
ogniz'd appear precious.

This must have been, many times over, said to you if
th' whole of this Cipher hath been undone, yet I pray
your patience for th' divers wayes and th' repetitio's used,
since not a sign doth give me any right to hope this would
be taken up where I began, and follow'd till th' great
story were found. I put every direction, as hath beene
so often said, in divers of my newe workes. This plann
will proove so clear to your judgement, then, that it must
quiet all doubt of my taste. Th' end shall convince much
more indeed then argument. It is, to a work of so secret
nature th' chief e- meanes that doth remain: therefore I
entreate you to bee most dilligent and staye not till all
bee finished. If all keys have beene mark'd and assorted,
the joining can proceed at once, if you note the words.

F. B.

*At first my plann of Cipher work was this: to shew
secrets that could not be publish'd openly. This did so
well succeed that a different (not dangerous) theme was

*Titus Andronicus.

216 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

entrusted to it; and after each was sent out a newe desire
possess'd me, nor left me day or night untill I took up
againe th' work I love so fondly.

Some school verses went into one, since I did deeme
them good worthie o' preservation in my truly precious
casket studded thicke with houres f arre above price. Even
my translations of Homer's two immortall poemes as well
as many more of lesse valew have a place in my Cypher;
and th' two our most worthy Latine singer left in his lan-
guage I have translated and used in this waye Virgill's
JSneid and Eclogues. Onely a fewe of those I have
turn'd from most vigorous Latine, were put out. Most o'
th' translations as I have just said, apeare i' th' work and
must not be held of little worth, for assuredly they are my
best and most skill'd work.

It is a great art to English stately Greeke verse rightly,
and if you turne it againe into prope' measure, eyther you
must sacrifice th' sound or wrest the thought; and th'
exact words are often wanting to voyce its wondrous lan-
guage. It is famed the wide earth arou'd, for its lofti-
nesse of diction and its sounding nu'bers.

Th' Illiads and parts o' th' adventures of Ulyses fur-
nish our chief examples, as no Greeke -poet in any -ZEon
hath approacht his style or his imagination. Regarding
Virgill's zEneid, we must honor it among all Latine
poems, but it doth lacke Homer's incomparable, marvel-
lously witching art, strong diction, true spirit, fire of an
immortal youth.

In a play is imitated action of heroes, in the Illiads is
th' reall, the living scene. You see a battaile and hear th ;
cries o' th' Trojans, and see th' Greekes sweepe on in
noyselesse grandeur like devouring flames: you feel how

IN SHAKESPEARE PLAYS. 217

Achilles' angry spiritt swelleth in his savage breast as he
sitteth by the. sea eating his heart, and Agamemno' tri-
umpht over the bravest, worthiest Greeke that sailed to
Ilion.

In this short play you must get many o' th' lines of th'
great poem of which I speake. You have th' keyes, if as
manie plays bee decypher'd by this time as I suppose, also
numerous rules for joyning these small portions into per-
fect Iliads.

L. VERULA'.

ROBERT BURTON.

ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY.
1628.

Now as to my Ciphe' alphabets here, th' letters will be
thought to be like those of other editio's. It will bee
quickly noted as our work shall be f ollowM with care, manie
subtile innovations have been made that so change each later
issue that it is almost as unlike th' precedent editions as
another or different work. This made it necessarie to alter
th' Bi-literall Ciphe', and as it doth contain now a verie dif-
ferent story, we prythee, do not passe it without giving your
attention to these Italicke letters, for a great portion of
your aids are to be found in my third edition.

Studie our others by all our early work, but those which
we put out now are to bee emploi'd when th' two Latine
workes are to be written. All work in margine of my first
will be used for that Latine work and may be left untill the
last; that of our second and third were to aid you in bring-
ing out Homer's bookes, and may bee decipher' d at once
after the part you are engaged upon shall be finisht.

And you should make a great efforte in writing th' Ciphe'
historie, to followe closelie my rules, drawn out and ren-
der'd most crystalline like polisht mirrours of steele, for my
whole work upon this doth teach, t' my onely interprete',
something new and helpfull to th' other important Cyphe'
not yet written out. Let not my work be lost, for 'tis of

IN ANATOMY OF MELANCHOLY. 219

\
importance to many besides yourselfe, and no historic may

be complete without it. Indeed the whole national! record
must bee changed by a revelation of such a kinde, but if
I have not your aide, no eie but my decypherer's, when I
am resting from my labours, shall read that which I have
prepar'd with such great paines for posterity. Therefore
must hand and pen, as wel' as th' braine and a most ready
and quicke eye, now effect th' rest. I must leave it in
your wise care in future, for my light o' life must ere long
be extinguisht, and again I do entreate that you be so dili-
gent that my great labour for truth shall not lie in embryo
longer, but come forth, when th' time shall be accomplisht,
unto th' day. Study to ayd, not to put a straw in th' way.
Under much of th' outer huske is th' kernell, worth th'
search of many a yeare, utterly lost to th' world till it have
beene brought forth.

As hath been said, much of th' materiall of th' Iliad may
be found here, as well as Homer, his second wondrous storie,
telling of Odysseus, his worthie adventures. Th' first
nam'd is of greater worth, beautie and interesse, alone, in
my estimation, then all my other work together, for it is
th' crowning triumph of Homer's pen; and he outstrips all
th' others in th' race, as though his wits had beene Ata-
lanta's heeles. Next we see Yirgill, and close behind them,
striving to attaine unto th' hights which they mounted, do
I presse on to th' lofty goale. In th' plays lately publisht,
I have approacht my modell closelie, and yet it dolh ever
seem beyond my attainment.

Here are the diverse bookes, their arguments and sundry
examples of th' lines, in our Bi-literall Cipher.

220 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD.

Th' Greekes maintain'd th' siege of Illion for nine yeares
without taking th' city or winning Menelaus' Queene away
from Prince Paris, who had stolen her, 'tis said, with her
full and free consent, and defending his mad deed with
equall spirit, prolong'd th' warre. In th' meantime many
townes having beene sack'd, and the inhabitants destroi'd or
led captive into th' campe of th' Greekes, both Agamemnon
and worthie Achilles were allotted each a beautiful maiden,
Brisei's falling to the lot of Achilles, and unto Agamemnon,
Chrisei's, th' beautifull virgin daughter to Apollo's priest,
Chryses. In th' first booke Achilles is introduced very
angry, in truth th' entire work is th' storie of his anger,
as may be seene in th' first two verses of the poem, which
are plac'd below:

goddesse, sing of th' destructive wrath
Of fierce Achilles, Peleus' worthy sonne.

Kor was his anger easily appeased, as all learned unto
their sorrowe. For th' priest Chryses came to th' vaste
armament of Greekes, making supplication for his virgin
daughter, and bringing treasures inestimable; bearing also
th' fillets of Apollo on the golden scepter that he carried.
Then all th' Greekes lifted their voyces in a great shout
saying: "Deliver this priest's daughter lest Apollo be
angry with us; accepte th' ransomes also, that th' treasures
of the warriours be increas'd." However, to Agamemnon
it caused sore displeasure, nor could priest nor people per-
suade him to set th' mayden at libertie, and restore her to

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 221

her father; but he dismissed th' old man evilly, bidding
him depart precipitatelie lest he should abide it to his cost.

And th' priest, in silence, walk'd along th' shore of the
resounding sea. After awhile, with many a prayer and
teare, th' old man cried aloud unto Apollo, and his voyce
was heard.

Th' god in anger sent his arrows into the Grecian campe,
killing at first onely dogs and mules, but a*t last he aim'd
his arrowes against the Greekes, and thousands died of pes-
tilence. For ten daies his cruell shafts sped on his errands
of gloomy death, and there were high heaps of slaine war-
riours, nor did the smoke of the funerall piles cease from
day to day. Achilles then summon'd a councill, and
charg'd Calchas, if he could tell th' cause of th' punish-
ment inflicted upon the Grecian armie, that he be
couragious to declare it, relying upon th' protection Achilles
pledged him, should any in authoritie dislike what he musfl
reveale; whereupon he said, it was because that Agamem-
non had ill-treated a priest of th' god, in refusing th' maid
Chrisei's to her, father, when he came bearing the scepter
of th' great god and his fillets, with inestimable ransomes
as a recompence.

Thereupon an altercation hotly rag'd 'twixt Achilles and
his commander, which ISfestor appeas'd. Agamemnon sent
Chrisei's to her father, but immediately requir'd his her-
alds to go to th' tent of Achilles and to bring Achilles'
maid, Brisei's, unto him. Th' maid obeyed in quiet griefe,
but Achilles sat down by th' sea, and made complainte to
Thetis, old Nereus' daughter, mother to our hero. Soe
plaintive was his cry, th' nymphe hastily left her sea-cave,
where she sat by th' side of her sire, as some blooming
flowe' upon its stalk, and made effort to comfort th'

222 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

heart of proud Achilles. She promis'd to goe to Olympus,
when Jove return'd from a twelve dayes' stay with th'
belov'd people o' th' Ethiopians, pleading for grace at
th' feet of great Jove, and praying that th' victorie should
bee given to th' Trojan arms untill th' Greekes should
honor Achilles againe as hee deserv'd.

Upon th' morning of th' twelfe day, faire Thetis arose
from th' sea and climb'd Olympus' top, where finding Jove
sitting aparte upon th' highest peake, she twined one arme
round the knees of th' god, put up th' other hand to lifte
his chin and earnestly besought him, if eve' that she by
word or deede had given him pleasure, her request be
granted and Achilles honour'd of all th' Greekes. To this
hee consented after a long delay and confirmed his promise
by a nod.

But Juno discover'd Thetis, and, according to her usuall
jealous manner, was soe loud in denouncing Jove, every
god and goddesse was affrighted. Then her sonne, Vulcan,
interfering, soothed her and averted calamitie in th'
heavens.

II.

Jove had no rest; sleepe came not unto him; all night
he lay upon his couch of gold, devising meanes to make
his promise good, nimph Thetis wonne from him, and
finally sent a pernicious dream to Agamemnon a dream
of victories unayded by Achilles.

Agamemnon rose, and putting on th' regall garments,
went out to summon th' Grecian lords to councill and
impart his vision; but at the same time hee suggested a
plan contrary to his owne wishes, meerely to try th' temper
of th' Greekes, and propos'd to urge a returne unto Argos.
None should in truth goe away, since Ulysses should use

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 223

much eloquence to turne aside or send back all who would
depart. Thereupon all th' Greekes were assembled, and
Agamemnon, leaning upon his ancestral scepter, eloquentlie
spake of the long fruitlesse toile, of the wives and infants
who in Argos and th' farre isles of th' sea awaited their
comming, and soe moved them that as one man they echoed
th' cry, "Let us re turne."

Straightway- th' hosts sweepe ore th' sandy plaine, like
th' billows o' th' Icarian Sea under great winds. Th' dust
is as th' smoke rising from a furnace, and loud sliouts like
th' resounding sea are heard. Some seize th' ships to drag
them to th' main, and all make ready with tumulte that
doth reach to heaven.

Juno, fearing their abandonment o' th' great quest,
sent th' blue-eyed maid, Minerva, to staye them. Descend-
ing th' heights of proud Olympus like a summer starre,
Pallas swiftlie flew to th' Grecian campe, and sought out
wise Ulysses, like unto th' gods in counsel, where he stood
silent with averted face, and laid no hand on his blacke-
hull'd ships.

Recognizing th' voyce of th' goddesse, as she incited him
to use all his wonderfull, silver-tongued eloquence to stem
th' flood o' th' flying host, he ran forth to meete Agamem-
non and obtain'd th' paternal scepter. Then he quicklie
passed through th' throng, smoothelie persuading those that
were royal or noble, while hee, rebukingly with th' scepter
smiting th' base-borne, bade them submit unto his will
and cease their tumult. Soone every Greeke turn'd back
to goe once more to hold councill upon't, loudly murmur-
ing and surging like th' sea.

Finally all save Thersites fell into silence. Hee alone,
ever clamouring and delighting much in noisie railings and

224 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

scandalous revilings 'gainst prince or lord, (but most mid
and wreaklesse when proud Achilles and Ulysses were his
scornfull theame, for toward them his envy and spleene
raged ceaselessly) was upon that daie so spitefull 'gainst
Atrides, that Ulysses, resenting that dishonour to th'
Generall, reprov'd him severely, and even used th' scepter
as a rod, smiting him so rudely that great weals came up
under each heavy blow, and th' bloud cours'd swiftly down
his backe. Thersites wip'd a teare away, and, submissively
restraining all further speaking, hee took th' seate th' wise
Ulysses pointed out upon th' ground. Then all th' people
marvell'd and exclaim'd with wonder to see Thersites van-
quish'd.

A stormy but unfruitfull, dispute among th' Princes was
begun, which Nestor cut short by saying to them that they
spake as children, and himselfe propos'd to their cheefe
that he divide th' armie into tribes, placing kin with kin
to strengthen and aide each th' other. Whereupon Aga-
memnon bade his hosts make hasty preparation for battell;
and straightwaye the armie dispers'd among th' tents, and
smoke rose upward throughout th' campe as they prepar'd
th' meal.

But Atrides made a sacred feast, offering in sacrifice
an ox of five yeares, strong and beautifull. First he bade
that venerable sage, Nestor, then summoned Idomeneus
and Tydides, then both th' A j aces and th' wise Ulysses,
but Menelaus, uninvited, follow'd. When they had com-
pleted th' ceremonies, Nestor bade Atrides send out their
heralds and summon th' armie to th' plain to prepare th'
hosts to battell, and to separate th' warriours by tribes.
This was accordinglie done, and Minerva took th' ^Egid
shield whose fringe was valued above hundreds of oxen.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 225

Then she pass'd to and fro amid th' hosts and arranged
them, at the same time inciting them to battell, so that they
remember'd their homes and countrey no more. Their
breasts glowed and burned with desire to enter into the
conflict and atchieve great honour.

That daie Jove rendered Atrides conspicuous among
heroes, and glorious, more, even, then his wont, moving
midst the throng in his shining armor.

There followeth a catalogue of th' shippes:

Peneleus, Leitus, Prothoenor, joyned with Arcesilaus
and bold Clonius, equall in arms and in command, led
Bceotia's hosts; and there went with them fiftie sable shipps.
Those whose home was upon rocky Aulis, hillie Eteon or
the waterie plains of Hyrie; in Schcenos, or Scholos, Grsea
or Mycalessia; those who came out from Peteon, from
Harma, Heleone or Hyle, well water'd by its springs that
ever rise; those who dwelt in loftie Medeon and in Ocalea;
in Haliartus or in Thespia sacred to th' god Apollo; and
Onchestus where Neptune's temple stood; and those who
dwelt in Copse and Thisbe, fam'd for faire doves, or pas-
torall Erythrse; Glissa where vines abound; in greene
Platea and divine !Nysa; in Hypothebae that well-built
city, or where Eutresis and fair Coronea rose; in rich
Arne, or Anthedon upon th' farthest 'bound o' farre distant
Bceotia: of these each ship bore six score warriors.

After these followed the troops of Aspledon in thirty
sable shippes, comming from fertile Orchomenus and led
by the two sonnes of Astyoche, (which she brought forth
'prest by god Mars whom she met in th' court of Actor)
the valiant pair, lalmen and Ascalaphus.

Then came th' Phocions led to Phrygia by bold Epis-
trophus and Shedius from the faire land where th' Cephisus

226 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

floweth; from Panopea and Chrysa, isle of Phoebus; and
from Anemoria, Daulis and farre off Pytho', or Cyparissus
and Lilsea. Their fortie shippes ranged close upon the left
of th' Boeotians.

A Locrian squadron, dwellers in Bessa, Cynos, Thron-
us; in Opus, Calliarus, Scarphea; or where fayre Augeia
stood; or in well-wooded Tarphea, led by Oi'leus sonne,
th' lesser Ajax, skilled in the use o' th' spear, was full forty
vessels in number.

Next came the long haired Abantes that dwelt in
Eubcea, in Chalcis or wel-built Eretria; or in Isteia for
her vineyards fam'd throughout th' world; and in Caristos
and in Styra; in Dion and Cerinthus. These, led 'by
Elephenor, you see in fortie black keel'd shippes.

Next th' Athenians folow'd, led to Ilium by Menes-
theus, who excell'd all th' other Greekes, save Nestor alone,
in marshalling th' hosts. These were conjoyned with th'
troopes from Salamis the sonne t' Telamon was chosen to
command.

Next came th' Argives from Trcezene and Maseta; and
from ^Egina, th' sea-girt isle; and strong wall'd Tirynthia,
vine famous Epickurus; from Asine, sited on th' cliffs, and
from the harbor of Hermione, led by Diomed and Euryalus
with Sthenelus, yet was Tydides chiefe. With them fol-
low'd eighty shippes.

And next came th' dwellers in Cleonse, or in Mycenae,
and, fairest of th' faire, Corinth the Beautifull; or in fertil
Ornia, and Arsethyrea; in Pelene, noted for flocks; or
Helice, Hyperesia; or in farre Gonoessa. These in a
hundred shippes came with Agamemnon, th' generall, who
led them foorth the resplendent, for Jove did render him
conspicuous in glitt'ring arms.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 227

And next was Menelaus, his brother, who commanded
Sparta's forces, eager to avenge beautious Helen's rape
warriors from Pharis, Brysise, rocky Lacedsemon; those
who dwelt in Messeis, renown' d for silver doves; or in
Amyclse, Laas, Augia, (Etylos [and] Helos, by th' sea.
With these three score vessels sailed.

Then Nestor, th' aged king, with his armie came from
sandy Pylos; those that inhabit that land soe fruictfull
Amphigenia where loftie ^Epy and little Pteleon do stand;
and Arene also; Thryos, where th' Alpheus watereth th'
meads; and famed Dorion, where bold Thamyris, boasting
that he could excell Muses in musick, was made blinde
by th' scorn'd Muses, who, furious, deprived him
also of his beautiful voyce, nor might hee charm again.
With him sail'd ninety vessels.

Th' Arcadians, those whose territory lay under loftie
Cylene round old yEpytus' tomb; who dwelt in Ripe, or
Stratie; in those places bordering Tegea; in Stymphalus,
upon Parrhasia, her lofty cliffs; in windie Enispe or pleas-
ant Mantinea, were commanded by Agapenor, sonne to
glorious Ancseus. However, the countrie being neyther
large nor powerfull, their shippes were furnish'd by Aga-
memnon. Of these he sent sixty to bear them acrosse
the sea.

Then th' Epeans followed, they that inhabited the
clime, where Buprasium joyn'd unto Elis (confined by
Hyrmina, Myrsinus, as farre as th' famed Olenian rock,
and where th' Alisium flowed). In four separate fleets
they were divided, each containing ten vessels. Amphim-
acus led one, Thalpius th' second, Diores th' third, and
Polyxenus th' last.

Next, those dwelling in th' iles of the Echinades were

228 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

led by Meges, th' sonne of Phyleus, a man whom Jove
greatly loved. He fled from his sire to Dulichium. With
him there were fortie sable shippes.

Next came Ulysses, in counsell like a god. With him
were twelve red shippes bearing th' Cephalenians and
Ithicans; those dweling where lofty JSTeritos rises, upon
whose sides th' leafie forests wave; or in rocky Crocylea;
in JEgilips, or Zacynthus' greene isle.

Then one might see the ^Etolians from Pleuron, from
chalkie Calydon, from rugged Pylene and that lofty
Olenian rock, or pleasant sited Chalcis by th' sea. These
Andrsemon's eldest Thoas, brave and valiant led, be-
cause the sonnes of old (Eneus were dead, (and (Eneus as
well). With these went fortie sable vessels.

Close by them may you see Idomeneus leading th'
Cretans, aided in the command by Meriones, equal to Mars,
that in four score sable shipps came from Grnossus, Lyctus
and Gortyna, from Ehytium, Miletus, Lycastus faire,
Phaestus by the silver Jardan from a hundred citties
Crete furnisht a mighty force.

From Isle Ehodes valiant Tlepolemus, Hercules' sonne,
led nine fleet shippes. Those dwelling in fayrest lalysus,
in Lindus, with those from Camirus. For Tlepolemus
grew up to manhood in th' court of his uncle, whither his
owne captive mother, Astyochea, was carried from farre
Ephyra, by the flowing Selleis; straightway, however, he
having slain his olde uncle, Licymnius, fled to escape th'
anger of his kinsmen, and gathering many that were o'
bold adventurous spirrit, hee hasten'd (laboring both daye
and nights) building his rude fleet to sail ore the deepe.
And after many wanderings and misadventures, hee came
unto Rhodes and possess'd th' land; where, dividing his

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 229

followers into three tribes over which he ruled, he prosper'd
greatly, Jove himselfe sending downe golden gifts.

Next came Mreus, whom th' nymph Aglsea bore to bold
Charopus. He was the fairest of all th' Greekes who came
to Ilion (excepting th' sonne of Thetis) but his troops were
few and weake.

Next came thirty vessels from th' lies of Calydnae,
from Casos, Msyrus, Cos (th' citty of Eurypylus), led on
by Antiphus and brave Phidippus.

Then fifty strong shippes, from Argos, Alos, sweet
Hella, where are the fayrest o' women; th' vales of Phthia;
from Trachyn and Alope, were commanded by Achilles.
Now hee sitteth by the blacke shippes and will not come
to the field, because of Brisei's, the maiden whom hee
brought captive from Thebes after the wall was thrown
downe and he had taken th' citty and slain th' sonnes of
Evenus.

Next came th' youths of Phylace, from sheep-producing
Itona; from grassie Ptelium; from flow'ry Pyrrhasus or
Antrium, where th' caves are num'rous in those hills.
These Protesilaus led not now, for th' cold blacke ground
covered him, and his wife is left alone in his unfinished
pallace. Hee was th' first of th' Greekes who boldlie
sprang to th' shore when Troy was reach'd, and fell beneath
a Phrygian lance. Now his bones lie f arre from his belov'd
home, and the sonne o' Iphiclus, his brother Podarces, doth
assume command ; but they mourne their lost leader. Their
fleet numbered forty sable shippes.

Those that dwelt in Glaphyra, where lieth Lake Brebe
with high hills surounded, and Phsere and lolcus stand,
with' eleven sable shippes, were led by brave Eumelus,
sonne of Alceste, who in beauty farre excell'd all others
among Pelias' race.

230 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

All those who from Methone came, or farre distant
Thaumacia, where th' rock of Olizon doth rise; from grassy
Melibcea and Pella, were commanded by Philoctetes,
greatly fam'd for skill with th' bo we. Fifty strong rowers
mann'd each blacke shippe, (sev'n made up his little fleet)
fighting with bowes made of eugh and barbed arrowes.
Medon, sonne of Oileus, borne by faire Rhene, led them
to Ilion, because bold Philoctetes, whom a most banefull
hydra had bitten, lay groaning in Lemnos Isle; but the
Grecian army shall yet desire him, and their wish shall
be fulfill'd.

Th' (Echalians who enjoyed two leaders, those divine
physitians, th' sonnes of ^Esculapius nam'd Podalirius and
Machaon, came from th' land where Eurytus once
reigned, from tower 5 d Tricca or Ithome's rocks, in thirty
shippes.

Next Eurypylus led th' Ormenian and th' Asterian
^bands in forty vessels, from th' land where Titan hideth in
snows his hoarie head, or where the silver founts of faire
Hyperia flow.

Then Polypoetes led forth th' troops of Argissa and
Elone, they that dwelt beneath Olympus' benignant
shadowe; Gyrtone, or Orthe, or the chalky cliffs of
Oloosson, Leonteus, with Pirithous' sonne, (that Hippo-
dame bore when th' Centaurs were driven fro' Pelion)
Polypoetes, joyned in th' commande.

Then came th' Perrhsebians and th' Enians in two-and-
twenty shippes. These Gyneus led from Cyphus, from cold
Dodona's sacred wood, or where the Titaresius poured its
black water over the Peneus; but they float on his surface
nor mingle with that silverlike flood at anie time because
black Styx, oath of immortall gods, sent them forth.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 231

Last unde' swift-footed Prothoiis (Teuthredon's seede)
stood the Magnesians, who dwelt beneath pine-crown'd
Pelion; or where flower deckt Peneus roll'd his waters
through Tempe's vale; or in that farre-reaching suround-
ing country. Forty shippes compos'd their fleet.

Th' inquiry "Which hero was bravest, and whose th'
swiftest steeds?" is answer'd thus: Eumelus' mares of
Pheres deriv'd, bred near Pierian founts and by Apollo
train'd, equall in their height (by level o' th' plumb-line),
like in colour, as th' wind in speede, like every wave: they
thunder'd ore th' plain through Trojan ranks, bearing death
to th' Troyans and all o' their allies. None can ev'n hope
to escape who fall beneath their hooves and are crush' d
under their chariot wheels. Among th' warriours Ajax
was th' worthiest. Of all the Greekes who came to Hion,
none equall'd Achilles while that hero was among th' hosts
upon the field of battaile, but hee sat alone by his ship's
side brooding angrilie over Brisei's' losse nor would he enter
the field. His Myrmidons practiced at archerie, or threw
th' javelin or quoits, and the steeds by the unus'd chariots
fed upon lotus, wilde parsley, et caetera, while their chief es,
wandering through th' campe, longed for their leader,
neythe' did they ayde in th' battell.

They swept on like to earth-devouring fire and beneath
them th' ground shook; (when Jove smiteth th' earth in
Arimse by Typhoaus, where it is said Typhoeus' tomb is
found, even thus doth the ground tremble and shake;) and
verie swiftlie they rushed along th' plaine.

But Jove sent Iris as a messenger to th' Trojans, whom
she found sitting in councill, both olde men and young at
th' gates of Troy; and likening herself e to Priam's sonne
Polites, who relying on th' swiftnesse of his feete, sat at

283 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

watch upon the tomb o' ^Esyetus, observing every move-
ment of th' Greeks that hee might warne mightie Troy
of danger, standing in their midst, (liken'd to Polites,) Iris
address'd them, saying:

"Why sit ye talking idly at th' gates? Prepare your-
selves for battaile for th' Greekes are close at hand, in
number as th' leaves of th' forest or th' sands upon th'
shore. Never such an host have I yet seene. Hector, it
is to you I would speaker hasten to arme Troyes boldest
warriours and her allies, and let every chiefe command
those o' his owne countrie, for many and diverse are th'
nations and language, but do you lead forth Troies citizens."

Then all th' Trojans rusht to arms. Hector knowing
well th' voyce of th' goddesse obey'd all th' commands.
Like a floode-tide they poured forth from th' gates,
gath'ring by nations and tribes, round that loftie mound
in the plain, by all men call'd Batiea, but by immortalls
known as old Myrinna's tombe.

Then did appeare th' waving plume on Hector's crest,
higher then all those of his fellowes, as hee led forth th'
valiant sonnes of Troy, for hee was th' mightiest of the
heroicke sonnes sprung from old Priam.

The leader of the valiante allies from Dardania was
brave ^Eneas, half divine in his origin. Fayre Venus
bore him to Anchises (who was but a mortall) upon Mount
Ida. Joyned with him in command are Antenor's sonnes,
Archilochus and Acamas, skill'd in all kinds of derring-do.

From Zeleia came Pandarus, sonne to Lycab'n, to whom
Apollo gave th' silver bowe and well pointed shafts that
he 'bore. All these dwelt 'neath sacred Mount Ida, and
drank ^Esepus' dark waters.

Those who dwelt under th' brow of that loftie hight

ARGUMENT OP THE ILIAD. 233

Tereia, or in towered Adrestse, faire Pityea or Apsesus,
were led forth by Adrastus and Amphius, sonnes of Per-
cosian Merops, who being a prophet had foretold each
doom; but a fate of death urg'd them to their destruction.
Asius, Hyrtacus' valiant sonne, led those who dwelt
in th' plains of Percote by silve' flowing Practius; or those
faire twins of Hellespontus Sestos and lovely Abydos; in
strong-wall'd Arisbe, by flowing Selleis.

The Pelasgians (much skilled in th' use of th' spear),
who inhabited fertile Larissa, were led by th' valiant
sonnes of Lethus, from god Mars descended, Hippothous
and bold Pylseus.

Next bleak Thracia, near th' Hellespontus, sent forth
her warriours, led by bold Acamus and brave Piroiis.

Then th' sonne to mighty Troszenus, grandsonne to
Ceas, Euphemus, a warlike host led forth from Cicone.
And Pyrsechmes led the Pasonians, who were skill'd
in th' use of th' thong-fastened, long darts. These dwelt
in distant Amidon, where th' Axius overfloweth his banks.
Th' Paphlagonians, from that mule-raising Eneti and
Erythine's rockie heights; from greene Cytora, lofty Sesa-
mus; from JEgialus and Cromna, or fast by Parthenius'
banks, these were commanded by powerfull Pylaemenes.
Then from th' famed mints of Halizonia, rich in silver
ores, came a brave bande under Hodius and Epistrophus.
Next Chromis led Mysia's valiant host, aided by th'
augur Ennomus; but skill in this art avail'd not to pre-
vent his death, for he, with a number of others, perish'd
by th' sword of Achilles at th' river.

Then Phorcys and god-like Ascanius led forth th' war-
riours from Ascania, (who were also called Phrygians)
eagerly desiring warre.

234 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

Following these came the Mseonians, whom Mesthles
and Antiphus borne by Lake Gygsea to Talaemseneus
did command. These dwelt beneath Mount Tmolus.

The Carians that dwelt in Pethiri, in Mycale'or well-
built Miletus, were led by Nastes and Amphimachus, the
sonnes of JSTomion, who foolish went to battaile deckt forth
like a girl in glittering gold, nor did this avert bitter death,
for hee fell at th' hand of th' sonne of JEacus and his
body fell into the rive'; yet did swifte Achilles taking his
armor possesse it as a trophie.

Sarpedon joyn'd with Glaucus, the valiant, commanded
those that dwelt where the eddiing Xanthus flowed through
Lycia afarre.

III.

When therefore they were well order'd in battaile
array, th' Troyans rusht to meet th' foe with tumult and
noyse, such as cranes make in Asian fields by th' water
streams, when th' intolerable winter is over, and flight to
other climes is arrang'd, to bear death and evill to th'
Pygmean men; but the Greekes, breathing might, swept
onward in silence, desiring to assist each other.

Then as a thicke mist on th' mountain toppes, evill
to the shepheards, but to th' robber better farre then
night, so thicke that one can see but a stones-throwe,
thus did th' dust arise above their heads, so swiftly did
they sweepe on ove' th' sandy plaine.

"When however having quickly crossed the plain th'
armies were oppos'd to one another, Alexander advanc'd
before the Troyans, bearing on his shoulders a panther's
hide and a 'bended bowe, and wearing a sword, while in his
hands hee brandisht two brasse-tipt spears, challenging

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 235

whoever was th' bravest of th' Greekes to meet him in
single combat.

Then Menelaus rejoyc'd, (as a lion that doth finde an
huge wild goate or horned stag which, though pursued
by hunters and hounds, hee greedily devoureth) thinking
to be aveng'd upon th' guilty wretch, and straightway with
his arms he leapt to th' ground.

Then godlike Alexander turn'd white with palsying
feare; and, as one upon th' mountayn side, seeing in th'
thicket a glitt'ring serpent, affrighted yieldeth place and
a great trembling doth take hold upon him, so Alexander,
appall'd before Atrides, shrank back againe to the mightie
hosts of th' Troyans.

But when Hector saw this he violently upbraided him
thus: "Thou woman seducer, would that thou had never
beene brought into light, or that unwedded thou had per-
isht. As thou hast a noble forme, the long-haired Achse-
ans may laugh at this, for doubtlesslie they suppos'd thee
brave, when thou hast neithe' heart nor anie nerve, but
art indeed onely a disgrace to thy father, to thy city, and
also to thyselfe. If thou had onely awaited Menelaus,
thou shouldst know indeed how brave a man is hee whose
wedded wife thou dost possesse. Troyan men, forsooth, are
pusillanimous, else should they stone thee on accompte of
th' evils that thou hast done."

But Alexander replied thus: "Since thy reproof is not
unjust, O my brother, whose spirit is indubitate (for as
the ax cleayeth wood when driven by vigorous blowes, and
doth also increase greatly th' strength of th' arme that doth
wield it, even so thy dauritlesse heart is ever mighty in
thy breast), and it is on my accompt that so many Trojans
'suffer, commande that both the Achseans and Trojans be

336 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

seated, on this side and that, and in th' midst will I contend
with Atrides; and hee that shall bee victorious shall pos-
sesse both the woman and the treasure."

Thereupon, holding in his right hand a mightie speare,
Hector advanced before th' Trojan lines; and the Argives,
beholdi'g him, made ready darts and stones to hurle at
him. But seeing this, Agamemnon restrained them say-
ing: "Withhold, ye Argives, and all ye othe' mightie war-
riours! See ye not helm-tossing Hector is come to propose
something?"

Whereupon Hector made his purpose knowne, and all
rejoyc'd because they thought th' end of th' warre was
neare.

Then Menelaus said: "O magnanimous Agamemnon,
and ye valiant Achaeans and Trojans, hear me, for this
doth concerne me above all others: let this be done as
Hector hath said, and to whichsoever the fate of death may
come, it is well; and hee that hath the victorie over th'
other, let him receyve th' rewards. But before this bee
done, separate th' Achseans and th' Trojans, and let lambs
bee brought a white one and a blacke for the Earth
and th' Sunne, and do you also send a herald to th' shippes
to bring one which shall be offer' d unto Jove. Further-
more do ye bring the might of Priam, that hee may make
this league, for all his sonnes are faithlesse, and where an
old man is, there is wisedom there also is justice and
truth; for an old man looketh both forward and backe, and
his judgement is just as it concerneth each party."

Then th' horse was sodainlie reined backe to the foote,
and th' warriours, dismounting, threw their armes on th'
ground and sat downe.

But Hector straightway sent forth two heralds to bring

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 887*

the lambs and to take th' message to Priam. Nor did
Atrides disregard th' command of his brother, for he
immediately dispatched Talthybius to th' shippes for th'
lamb, to offer unto Jove; and hee did not disobey Atrides.

Then Iris hastening to seeke Helen, likened herselfe to
Laodice fayrest daughter o' Priam, the wife of King Heli-
caon, Antenor's sonne. And she found her, weaving a
beautifull web for mantles, of double tissue, rich and
resplendent, and on it many labours of the horse-training
Troyans and of th' well-greaved Greekes, that on her
accompte they endured, and thus addrest her:

"Come see the mightie deeds of th' horse-training Troy-
ans, with th' brazen-mayl'd Greekes, in th' warre. Their
armes lie upon th' ground, and conflict hath now ceased,
for Mars-beloved Menelaus and Alexander are to contend
in th' midst, and thou shalt bee call'd th' dear wife of him
who doth conquer."

Thus did the goddesse fill her minde with a desire to
see Menelaus and her kindred, and to returne to her former
home. Letting fall a tende' tear, she hastily envelop'd
herselfe in white robes, and with two mayds, (Ethra and
large-eyed Clymene, rusht forth to th' Scsean gates where
sate Priam and Panthoiis, Thymastes and Lampus, Clytius
and Hicetaon (offspring of Mars) with Ucalegon and
Anthenor, once mighty warriours but long since unable for
the field because of old age: however, they were good in
oratory, like unto the Cicadse of th' woods, having good
voyces.

"When therefore these looking up beheld faire Helen
approaching, they spake hurriedly in low tones: "I hold
it noe indignity that Trojans and Greekes spend soe much
labour, loose soe many lives for Helen's sake, so faire a

'238 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

ladle's sake. For her was this [warre] well undertaken,
worthely prolong'd. Yet, although all this bee true, and
though she bee a woman of such excellent feature and
stature, as if she were a goddesse, let her returne in the
shippes, lest she be more grievous to us, and a perpetuall
disgrace to ourselves and our children."

But Priam call'd her to him saying: "Come here, dear
daughter, and sitting here beside me, thou maist looke upon
thy former spouse, and on thy kinsmen and friends. Thou
canst doubtlesse name for me this tall hero. So gracefull
and so venerable have I neve' yet scene, and he is, indeede,
ia very kingly man."

Helen, most divine of women, answer'd: "Belov'd and
Tevered father-in-law, I would that an evill death had pleas' d
me, when I came here with thine eage' sonne, leaving my
home and countrie, my brothers, my belov'd daughte', and
my companions equall in rank. But such a fate was not
mine: I therefore pine away with weeping. Yet will I
name for thee this hero. It is Agamemnon, Atreus' sonne,
great both as a mighty warriour and as a good king. More-
over he was brother-in-law of shameless me, if ever indeede
such things were."

Then Priam answered, still admiring Agamemnon :
"0 happie prince, most fortunate in thy birth, truely manie
Achaean youths are under thy command. When I came
into Phrygia, and beheld th' forces of Otreus and god-like
Mygdon, by the Sangarius standing beside their horses,
going out against those man-opposing Amazons (Tor I was
an ally in that warre) a number almost numberlesse seemed
that host; but not so numerous were even they, as these
Greekes."

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. ',39

Next perceaving Ulysses, the old man said: "Now
name this hero, my dear daughter, whose arms lie on th'
ground, while, as a thick-fleec'd aries 'midst th' flocke of
snowy sheepe, he windeth in and out among the troopes.
Not so tall is hee as Atrides, but broader in shoulder. 1
indeed would say that hee was like such a ram."

And Helen, sprung from heaven-ruling Jove, replied:
"Now this againe is Laertes' sonne, scheming Ulysses, from
rugged Ithica, verie subtile in reason, like unto the gods
in counsell."

To her Anthenor said : "Very true is thy word, lady,
for long ago he came in companie with most noble Menelaus,
Mars-belov'd, on an embassage concerning thee unto Troy;
and I entertayn'd them in my palace and became acquainted
with th' genius of both. When they mingled with th'
Trojans, Menelaus, indeed, overtopt him, being taller; but
sitting, hee was more majesticke, for he was broader in th'
shoulders. But when they commenced to harangue the
assembly, Menelaus spake with ease and volubly, as hee
was the younger; but Ulysses, looking on th' ground, stood
with his heavy scepter in his motionlesse hand, and appeared
both unskilfull in his outward actions and devoid of reason.
But when hee began to speake, and words like wintry flakes
fell from his lippes, we marvail'd noe longer at th' appear-
ance of Ulysses but at his words."

Then having beheld Ajax, th' old man asked: "Who
is this other Achaean hero in th' host, taller by th' head
and broad shoulders, thou seest, then anie of his com-
panions?"

And Helen answer'd: "This then is Ajax, the bulwarke
of th' Achseans, very mighty in battaile: and over on the
other side, among the Cretans, standeth Idomeneus, like

240 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

to a god, while round about him stand the many leaders of
the Cretans. Often have I seen him formerly in pleasant
sea-wall'd Lacedaemon, when in our palace Mars-beloved
Menelaus entertained him comming from Greet. But two
valiant heroes, leaders of th' people, I see not, horse-
trayning Castor, and Pollux, skilled in boxing, my broth-
ers, whom my mother at a single birth brought forth with
me. Eyther they have not followed from Lacedsemon in
the sea-traversing vessells, or having come, they enter not
into the warre because of th' disgraces that hang over me."

But already th** f ruitf ull earth possessed them in farre
distant Lacedaemon, yet of this she was ignorant.

Within the citty th' herald Idseus brought two golden
goblets and th' wine, the pledge of the gods; and standing
by Priam said to him:

"The chiefes of th' horse-trayning Trojans, and of th'
brazen-mayl'd Greekes, send for thee that thou thyselfe
maist strike the league betweene them. For Alexander is
aDbut to fight with Menelaus, beloved of Mars; and th'
woman with all th' treasure should attend upon th' con-
querour, but the other Trojans should dwell in fertile Troy,
and th' Greekes returne to pastorall Argos, and Achaia,
fam'd because of many fayre dames."

Thus he spake, and th' old man shudder'd; but he order'd
his chariot quickly to bee prepar'd, then mounting hastilie,
drew backe the reines: but Anthenor tooke place beside him,
and very swiftly did they passe over the plaine, and come
betweene Trojans and Greekes.

Whereupon Agamemnon uprose, with Ulysses also, and
the heralds brought forth the pledges of the gods. Then
Atrides drew th' dagger at his side, cut off the haire from
the foreheads of th' lambs, distributed it 'mongst them all,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 241

and stretching forth his hands to Jove thus prayed aloud:

"Most mighty Jove, and sunne, earth, rivers, and those
belowe punishing the soules o' men who are deceased they
that have sworne falsely beare witnesse to preserve the
faithfull league. If, on th' one hand, Alexander slay
Menelaus, let him from thenceforth retayne Helen and all
which she did possesse; and let the Argives returne in the
sea-traversing shippes. If, on the other hande, golden-
haired Menelaus shall conquer Alexande', then shall the
Trojans delive' Hellen and all her treasure, and they shall
also pay a fine such as may seeme just, which may bee
approv'd of all posterity. But if, in th' event of Alexan-
der^ fall, Priam or the sonnes of Priam refuse to paie the
fine, then shall I fight on accompte of th' fine, and remaine
untill I find th' end of the warre."

With these words Agamemnon cut the throats of the
lambs, bending back their necks; also they poured out wine
from th' goblets, and some one of the Greekes or Trojans
praied aloud thus:

"O Jove, most mighty, most glorious 1 , and all ye othe'
immortall gods, ratify this league; and should anie man,
Greeke or Trojan, violate his oath, may his bloud, like this
wine, be poured out, and grant that his wife may be
possessed by other men."

Thus were th' praiers offer'd, but th' sonne of Saturne
would not heede. Then Priam spake:

"I cannot by anie meanes endure, ye Trojans, and ye
silver-greaved Greekes, to behold the conflict betweene my
dear sonne and Mars-beloved Menelaus, therefore will I
returne to windie Troy; for surely th' immortal gods all
knowe to whom th' fate of gloomy death hath now beene
ordained."

242 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Thereupon lie ascended his chariot, and beside him
Anthenor mounted, and they returned to Illium, bearing
the lambes.

Then god-like Hecto' and wise counseling Ulysses cast
the lots into a brazen helmet, and measured off the ground.
But th' people supplicated the gods, stretching forth their
hands, and thus some one of th' Greekes'or Trojans prayed:

"O father Jove, most glorious, most mighty, grant that
whichever hath caused the ills we suffer, may enter the
realme of Pluto, but let the rest of us dwell in safety under
the faithfull league."

Thus they spake, but helm-agitating Hector, looking %
backward, shook the helmet, and quickly th' lot of Paris
leaped out.

Thereupon divine Alexande', th' husband of goldene-
lock'd Helen, prepared himselfe for th' combate. First,
putting on his beautifull greaves, he fasten'd them with th'
silve' claspes; then round his brest buckled th' corslet of
his brothe' Lycaon, for it fitted him: next he threw his
brazen sword, studded with silver, together with the mas-
sie shield, over his shoulder and grasp'd his doughty speare
by th' middle. Soe likewise did Menelaus arme, and they
immediately advanced toward each othe' from eyther side
of th' throne into th' prescrib'd space, where they for a
season stood glowering, and menacing each other so sorely
that all th' Greekes and Trojans were amaz'd. Then
Alexander first threw th' long-shadow'd speare, and it
struck th' shield of Atrides but it pierc'd not th' strong
brasse: the point however was turn'd by th' force of th'
blow. Thereupon Atrides also made ready to hurl his
speare, thus supplicating Jove:

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 243

"O father Jove, hear this supplication. Grant that I
soe avenge th' injury done unto mee, that to future gen-
erations it may warn men not to use treacherous dealings
toward one who hath made them guests, entertayning them
hospitably."

So praying hee hurl'd his speare; and that impetuous
weapon going through th' equal shield, pierc'd through his
corslet and the soft tunicke beneath to his tender thigh:
but hee bending sidewise avoided bitter death.

Th' sonne of Atreus then drew his richlie ornamented
sword, and smote Alexander upon th' crest of his helmet
so violently, that, broken into three or foure pieces, it fell
'on th' ground. And the sonne of Atreus groaned aloud,
looking toward Olympus, and cried:

"0 balefull Jove, none is like unto thee. Ev'n as I
thought to be avenged upon Paris, because o' th' wicked
deedes hee hath done unto me, behold my speare hath sped
from my hand in vaine, my strong sword is broken in
pieces, and I have done him no injurie."

Then rushing upon Alexander, he caught hold upon
th' horsehair tuft on his helmet, and throwing him upon
th' ground, would have swiftly drawne him to the Greekes
if Venus had not seene it, who broke for Paris the oxhide
[band] (made from th' skin of a roughlie slaughter'd
animall), and left th' emptie helmet in his hand. This
Atrides hurl'd to his companions 'mid th' ranks of th'
Greekes, who taking it up rejoyc'd greatly, and ranne for-
ward to seize him. But Venus rescued him, overshadowing
him with a cloud, carried him to Troy, and gentlie set
him down within th' perfum'd chamber.

Th' goddesse then went in search of Helen, and finding
her amid manie dames upon th' tower, liken'd herselfe

244 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

to an ancient dame, a spinner of wool, that she had long
ago known. The old woman had often spun th' fine wool
when she dwelt in pleasant Lacedsemon, and Helen loved
her. Therefore like this dame, fayre Venus standeth at
her side and thus accosteth her:

"Helen, come hither quickly, for Alexander is in his
turned bed within his perfumed chamber, shining in beauty
and attyre ; nor wouldst thou say hee was come immediately
from combate with a hero, but about to enter th' dance;,
or that having just returned from the dance, he doth take
repose."

But Helen saw the white neck, beautifull bosome, and
bright eyes flashing above her^and recognized th' goddesse;
whereupon in vext tones she said:

"Cruell Yenus, what wouldst thou that I should now
doe? Belike thou wouldst have me go yet farther into
Phrygia, or into pleasant Mseonia, where there may be
citties inhabited by men that are also deare to thee. Or
indeed is it that Menelaus having conquer'd Alexande',,
would faine bring hated me home, a reproach to Trojan
women evermoe? Go, leave th' path of th' gods upon
faire Olympus; sit beside him, so may he choose thee for
a consort, or make thee a handmayde unto him. But I,
alas, shall have woes unto my soule."

With these words th' goddesse hastily replied, being
incensed against her:

"Wretch, provoke me not, least I may hate as hereto-
fore I have so wondrously loved thee, and least I might,
abandoning thee, cause hatred to be rife among th' Trojans
and th' Greekes. Then would an evil fate overtake thee."

Thus th' goddesse spake: while Jove-descended Helen,
wrapping her long white robes about her, went downe-

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 245

mmoted by the Trojan dames, because the goddesse led
the waye. And when they were come into th' lofty
palace, th' maydes, on their part, turning aside return'd
to their tasks; but Helen ascended to her high arch'd
chamber: and the goddesse plac'd. a seate for her opposite
Alexander: there divine Hellen, th' daughter of ^Egis
bearing Jove, sat, averting her eyes, and addrest him
thus :

"Thou art come from the field: would that thou had
perisht there, slaine by th' hand of him I once call'd hus-
band, Menelaus that brave hero. I recall that frequentlie
have I known o' thy boasting of thy superioritie in cour-
age, strength, and handling th' speare. Challenge Mars-
beloved Menelaus againe! But I would advise thee to
refraine from combate henceforth, least thou bee subdued
by th' speare of faire-haired Menelaus."

But th' sonne of Priam answering said: "Woman,
reproach me not, nor agitate my soule with thy evill words.
By th' ayde of Minerva now indeed hath Menelaus con-
quer' d ; but I in turn shall vanquish him, since th' gods are
also with us. But come, let us delight in dalliance, for
now doth sweet love fill my thoughts, even more then
when I first brought thee away from pleasant Lacedaemon,
when in th' island of Cranae wee were mingl'd in love.
Come let us recline upon our couch."

Thereupon he ascended his perforated couch, and Helen
followed with him, and they repos'd together.

Meanwhile Menelaus was raging up and downe among
th' Trojans like some savage beast, seeking Alexander.
But not one of th' Trojans could reveale his place of
hiding; for none of them would have ayded him, because

246 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

they hated him like sable death. Whereupon King Atrides
thus address'd them:

"Th' victorie appeareth indeede as belonging to Men-
elaus, therefore shall ye deliver Helen and her treasure,
and paie th' suitable fine which shall be remember 7 d by
all our posterity."

And all the other Greekes approved.

IV.

All the synod of th' gods was seated on the golden
floor with Jove. In the midst, pouring out Nectar, Hebe,
the venerable goddesse, went to and fro; and they pledg'd
each othe', drinking out of the goldene cups, looking
toward the citty of th' Trojans. Jove meanwhile was
incensing Juno, speaki'g with bitternesse thus:

"Two goddesses, indeede, favour Menelaus, Argive Juno
with Minerva o' Alalcomense. Yet both these sit apart
looking on, while laughter-loving Yenus even now rescued
th' othe', cov'ring him with a cloud. But come, let us
consulte whether wee will renew th' conflict, or promote
th' friendship between both these parties; for th' victory
belongeth to Menelaus as the matter doth now rest."

But Juno was very angrie and thus addressed him:

"Balefull Jove, sonne of mighty Saturne, ever having
delight in th' things which displease me, what a word is
this that thou hast spoken! for now indeed wouldst thou
render my labour vaine, which I have undergone assem-
bling the hosts, even tiring the steeds to perform my
behests, and bring evills to Priam and his sonnes."

To her Jove made replie:

ARGUMENT OP THE ILIAD. 247

"Strange one ! "What evills hath. Priam done unto thee,
that thou hast such hatred toward him? Tain wouldst
thou, entering his citty, devoure alive Priam and his sonnes,
and the other Trojans, that thou might satiate thyselfe.
If at any subsequent time I may desire to overthrow citties,
where dwell men deare unto thee, seeke not to hold my
hand, for although greatly unwilling, I now freely yield
unto thee, least this be a cause of strife or contention
betweene us. But the Trojans are most estim'd by me
in my heart, for there my altars never lack'd a sacrifice or
libation; for there these honours none omitted."

And Juno answered:

"Three citties are most dear unto mee, Argos, Sparta,
and wide-wayed Mycenae; whenever thou shalt desire to
overthrows these, I will by no meanes stay thee, for it
is not meet that dissensio's and strife come betweene us.
Whence thine origin thence is mine, and moreover I am
thy spouse; I therefore, being soe fathex'd and soe hus-
banded, am very venerable, and thou rulest amongst th'
immortalls. Let us then duely make concessions I to
thee and thou to mee. Send Minerva therefore to th'
plaine and instruct her to incite th' Trojans, that they may
first offer injury to th' widely renown'd Greeks contrairie
to the league."

Thus she spake, and Jove, father of gods, did not dis-
obey. Instantly he summon'd Minerva and spake winged
words to her thus:

"Hasten to descend to the horse-breaking Trojans and
the well-greav'd Greekes, and incite the Trojans first to
offe' injury to Greekes, contrary to th' league, that there
may be renewed conflict."

248 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

And Minerva did not hesitate to obey,
But, like th' starre Jove sendeth as a signe
To mariners and sailors on th' 'deepe,
And to the various nations of the earth,
Emitting sparkes of light in her descent,
Minerva quickly leaped into their ranks.
Then, awe-strucke, one to other uttered this:
'Th' arbiter of all afaires belowe,
Great Saturne's sonne, hath ordain' d bitter warre,
Or doth establish friendship 'twixt th' Greekes
And mightie Priam's hosts."

Thus did they speake;
But liken'd to Anthenor's mighty sonne,
She sought brave Pandarus amidst the band
That follow' d him from th' ^Esepus' streams;
And, standing near him, spake in winged words:

"Would thou now Pandaru', Lycab'n's sonne,
Lend eare unto th' counsells that I give,
No longer would thy bowe, its strong cord slacke,
Hang idly. Thou a bitter shaft wouldst aime
At Menelaus, winning endlesse fame,
And thanks and favoure, golden gifts as rare
As prince or king can offer unto one
Whom he delights to honour, for indeed
All Trojans would rejoyce, could they beholde
Brave Menelaus laid upon th' pyle,
Slaine by an arrow from thy mighty bowe.
Especially shall Paris' heart be glad;
No limit shall there be to gratitude,
Nor to th' treasure in rich store for thee.
Come now, I pray thee, send thy mighty shaft

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 249

Into their midst, and vow unto Apollo
A splendid hecatomb of firstling lambes."

So saying, his unthinking minde she wonne.
In haste, straightway, his polisht bowe he tooke,
That from the wild goat's branching horns was

fashion'd.

Once from the ambush on a mountayn side,
Lying in wait, he saw that noble payre
Proudlie uplifted, as th' bounding goat
Emerged to the light. There clear he saw't
Against the cavern's mouth, and taking aim,
His winged shaft that square white breast did pierce,
And on th' rocks supine the creature lay.
These horns, polisht and golden tipt, became
Th' bowe Lycaon's sonne, most masterfull,
Did bend. Th' pointe he rested on th' ground,
And from his quiver taking off the cappe,
Fitted an arrowes notch unto th' cord,
While, round about him, shields were closely rank'd
By his companions, lest th' watchfull Greeks
Espying him should take away his life,
Ere martiall Menelaus should be slaine,
The leader brave of all the Grecian hosts.

So Pandarus drew back the tough hide string
Untill his hand did rest against his breast,
While the shaftes barb nigh to the bowe was brought
A moment, ere the impatient arrow sped
In swift flight thro' the campe, on deadlie quest.

Ah! Menelaus, then thy houre had come,
Had not blue-orbed Pallas at thy side
Repell'd that shaft. Ev'n as a watchfull mother
Would brush a flv from her faire, sleeping child,

350 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Minerva's hand th' sharpe pointe turn'd aside,
And firme infixed in his girdle's claspe.
Its course thus silently and swiftly stayed,
That wicked arrow little harm might worke,
Yet did its pointe breake through th' tender skinne;
And the white columns of those ivory thighs,
Th' sturdy knees, and th' faire feete belowe,
Were bath'd in blood, blacke as th' sacred Styx.
Then 'gan that heroes heart to quail with feare;
But, looking downe, th' corde outside he saw,
And once more gathered courage in his brest.

When Agamemnon sawe that coal-blacke stream
Gushing from out his martiall brother's side,
Lamenting loud, Atrides' hand he grasp'd,
And thus hee spake, and his companions nigh
Lamented also:

"My beloved brother,

By this inglorious league thy doome I seal'd:
Alone thou sufferest for all th' Greekes
Through Trojan treacherie. But, even now,
I see them with their wives and tender babes
Paie with their lives a debt to righteous Jove;
Already is his heavy hand outreach'd,
His lightnings quiv'ring, eager to fly forth,
And Priam and his citty shall lie low.
But thou, alas, shalt rest in forraine soile,
While wee returne, disgrac'd, to our faire land
Beyond th' sea. For if, indeed, our leader
Fall by th' hands -of Trojans, or allies,
All then will long for home and fatherland;
And, leaving Argive Helen to our foes,
In hastie flight will homeward turne our shippes.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 251

Then will some one or other of that Lost, j

Leaping and dancing on thy tomb, speake thus:

'O would, indeed, that Agamemnon ever

Such vengeance wreak'd! Vainly his fleet he led

Across th' seas, and now he hath return'd

In empty vessells, leaving Menelaus,

That valiant hero, dead in Phrygia.'

When this shall be, may then the gaping earth

Ope wide to swallow me."

But brave Atrides,

Marking his brother's grief, spake hastilie:
"Let not the Greeks see feare and sad distrust
Governe the motion of a kinglye eye:
No man, indeed, should have one throe of feares
Lest hee, by showing it, his host dishearten.
No feare have I of death, or thought of dying,
For slight the wound must be. This well-wrought belt
Of many colours blent hath stay'd this shafte;
Th' pointe is turn'd ere reaching vitall parts."

To him the chief e replied: "So may thy words
Be true, th' gods preserve thy life for aye!
But forthwith will we send unto Machaon,
Th' Grecian hero; he th' wound will probe
And draw th' poyson'd shaft, with remedies
"Which Chiron gave to ^Esculapius
Relieve th' pain."

He cal'd th' messenger,
Talthybius, and said in winged words:
"Haste thee, Talthybius, to seeke the sonne
Of ^Esculapius, divine Machaon,
And bid him unto Menelaus haste.

252 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Chief e of the Greekes, whom some one midst the bands

Of Trojan archers, or of Lycian,

To whom 'tis glorie, but to us a griefe,

Hath wounded with an arrow. Bid him come,

And with some panacea ease the wound."

Talthybius straightway obey'd, and sought
Divine Machaon 'midst th' eager hosts
That throng'd him round. By him hee stood, and gave
Th' message of imperial Agamemnon,
Bidding him come with speed; then, turning, led
His swift steps to Atrides, 'midst his ranks
Of grieving souldiers.

From the wound, \vith care,
The bitter arrow this physitian drew,
Yet were the barbes, as it was done, snapt off;
Next hee th' embroider'd girdle's claspes undid,
And well-wrought plate beneath, most tenderly,
And in the wound did poure a healing balme.

Meanwhile, across th' plaine, the Trojan hosts
In warlike guise advancing, might bee seene.
Then would you not surprise brave Agamemnon,
Nor see him hesitate nor shunne the fight;
But hastening forth, hee bade Eurymedon,
Th' sonne of Ptolymseus, to be nigh
With steeds and chariot against a time
That, wearied with the labors of the field,
Hee might gaine respite. Many hurried on;
To these he spake swift words of cheer, thus saying:

"Argives! remit not any of your ardor,
For Jove will not of falsnesse bee th' abettor;
The flesh of all false Trojans shall be food

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 253

To cormorants. Ay, and their wives and children

(Since they this solemne league did violate,

And first did offer injury), for this,

Shall hence within our sable shippes be borne,

As we returne to our dear native land

Triumphant conquerours. Then shal faire Troy,

And all that mighty band, lie lowe i' th' dust."

But when he found a soldier loytering,
Or any that would shrink backe from the fight,
To these in wing'd words spake he: "Arrow fighters,
Why stand ye here like fawnes, which frighted runne
Along th' plaine, then all dismaied stand gazing,
As if there were noe heart within their brests?
Will ye awaite untill these Trojan hosts
Draw nigh with fire, and all the Rhetaean shore,
Where lie your shippes, to ashes shall bee turn'd,
That ye may knowe what is th' will of Jove,
Whether he over you will stretch an arm?"

So through the hosts he pass'd, and came at

length

Where brave Idomeneus, like a wild boar
Strong in his might, the Cretan bandes did lead,
Comanding in th' van; while in the reare,
Where in close ranks they stood, Meriones
The phalanxes urg'd on. Mgh him he paus'd
While thus he said:

"Thou brave Idomeneus,
Most valiant art thou, ever in th' strife,
And at the solemne feasts, to mee thy cup
At all times standeth ready to be quaff'd.
Would thou now prove it, hasten to th' field."

254 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Idomeneus replied: "I have in truth
To thee, O Agamemnon, ever beene
A most congeniall friend and firme ally,
And such I will to end of time bee found.
But do thou haste to exhort th' othe' chief es, since now
A treacherous army of Troy's strongest forces,
In violation of the league, approach,
First having offer'd injury to thee."

Mighty Atrides, much rejoyc'd in heart
At words like these, hasten'd along the field;
Soone nigh unto th' Ajaces he stood,
And round about foot-souldiers, tall, were throngM
Most like a cloude, that oft the goatherd spieth,
Dark as th' night, in pitchy masses roll'd
Acrosse wild seas that it to fury lasheth;
And shudd'ring deepe, he doth a cove' seek
In cleft stone wall upon th' mountayne side,
Where [he] himselfe and tender herd will lie,
Untill th' tempest cease. Like such a cloude,
The phalanxes acrosse th' waste did move,
With spears and shields that bristled like a wood.
When these hee viewed, Atrides, standing nigh,
Spake to them winged words, in heart rejoycing:

"Ye Ajaces, to exhort you like the others,
111 would become my state. Well do I know
That ye your army urge unto th' fight,
Exciting in each heart desire of glorie.
Would, great fathe' Jove, ruler of earth,
And thou Apollo and Minerva mighty,
Such courage were in all ! Then might we see
Priam's faire cittie bending to its ruin,
And all its glorie levell'd in the dust."

ARGUMENT OP THE ILIAD. 255

Heere ceas'd his speech, and leaving them still

standing,

Hee to the others joyously did passe,
And Nestor soone approacht. The Pylian sire,
Surrounded by th' other chiefes, hee found
Exhorting eagerly these comrades nigh,
To leade the hosts to the tumultuous battaile.
There might you note 'midst all the noble throng,
Th' mighty Pelegon, with bold Chromius,
Bias, who was th' shepheard of th' people,
Alastor and Prince Hsemon, gather'd round
To hear the sage, and mark how skilfullie
His hosts hee marshalleth. Th' horsemen first,
With their strong chariots shining with brasse
Most brightly burnished, and pawing steeds;
The sturdy foot, like solid wall of stone,
Guarded th' reare; while i' their midst the cowherds
Were held, that, by the rushing tide of warriours
Resistlessly swept on unto the fray,
They needes must mix with Troyans, and must fight
Or bee cut down. Having accomplisht this,
The aged sire address'd them in swift wordes:

"Let no man here, relying on the skill
Hee hath in armes, rush singly in the thicke
O' mightie conflict; rather let every man,
If possible, extende his weapon forth,
And with th' pointe his neighbour's chariot touch.
For thus th' valiant men of former times,
Against a foe in solide ranks, did moove
And overturne the strongest phalanxes:
Like these therefore go forth to victorie."

BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

So spake the aged man, long since well skill'd
In conduct o' th' warres; to him Atrides:

'Would, worthiest Nestor, that some other man
This weight of yeares soe heavy might upbeare,
And that thy strength might equall to the heart
Within thy breast, since thus to thee o' late
Old age hath come, common alike to all,
And ever wearieth thee."

Thus did he speake,

And the Gerenian knight, old Nestor, said:
"'Twere well, indeed, if now I could again
Th' might I had, when in my prime I slew
One Eruthalion, feel in hands and arms.
But never all their glorious giftes to men
Doe th' gods at once bestow. If then, in youth
And youthfull strength I gloried, now olde age
In turn invadeth me. But, even now,
I much desire to aide men with my counsel,
And ever by the horsemen doe I stand,
"When, for th' conflict marshalling their steeds,
I see them gather, but to younger men
I leave th' shield and spear."

Thus Nestor spake,
And, hearing him, Atrides joyously
To others went, addressing every chief
Most earnestlie. Next he Menestheus saw,
A sonne of Peteus, who 'midst th' Athenians
Stood quietlie; by him crafty Ulysses,
Encircled by the Cephallenians,
Wee see, for they as yet no sound do hear
Of dreadfu' battaile hurtling i' th' ayre,
And waite the approach of other hosts, to lead

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 257

Into its turmoil. Seeing them thus stand,
The sonne o' Atreus hastily approacht,
Kebuking boldlie both his valiant chiefes
Speaking to them i' words which had swift wings:

"Thou sonne of Peteus and crafty Ulysses,
Why stand ye idly waiting with your troops?
Ye should be first, when Trojan hosts draw nigh,
To rush headlong into the thick of battaile.
Ye ever are th' foremost at th' feasts,
Th' first to be invited, when th' Greekes
A banquet to their chieftains do prepare.
For pleasant, then, ye find it to sit there;
Th' meats suit well such tastes, and the sweet wines,
'Tis your delight to quaffe."

But stern Ulysses

To him replying said: "O sonne o' Atreus,
What foolish language, now, th' barrier
Guarding thy mouth oreleapeth! for if thou wouldst
At the battell once take note whatere I do,
Thou wouldst not se Telemachus' bold sire
Shrink fro' th' turbulent and noisy conflicte;
For, ever in th' thick, when spears do bristle
Like to a thornie wood, my strong arm findeth
Work such as suites the might of sturdiest sinewes.
But thou, Atrides, ever speakest rashlie."

When Agamemnon thus knew of the anger
That stirr'd in brave Ulysses' crafty minde,
He hastily and smoothly spake, attempting
A speech illy advised to retract.
Smiling hee said:

"I neyther would reproove,
NOT ev'n exhort thee, urging thee to fight, ^

258 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

For well do I th' minde thou hast descry,
And knowing how thy friendly cou'sels ever
Accord with my owne thoughts, and that thy judge-
ment

Doth crye i' th' top o' mine, in thee I rest,
And pray th' gods t' render my rude words
Vaine and unmeaning, if I spake not well.
Of this at greater leasure will we speake
After th' battaile."

"With these words, Atrides
Went to that band led by the sonne of Tydeus,
Brave Diomed, with valiant Sthenelus,
The sonne of Capaneus. These standing near
As they beside their polisht chariots
Idly do wait, he, speaking swift reproof
In words that winged were, addrest them thus:

"Why stand ye idly here, scanning the ranks
If haply yee may find waye of escape?
Not thus, O Diomed, thy valiant sire
Olde Tydeus fought, as to mine ear report
Of former warres hath told of his brave deeds .
For him I never met, never beheld
But I have heard that he excell'd the bravest,
And toyl'd with workes of warre far in th' van.
Certaine I am, with god-like Polynices,
Mycenae he did enter, seeking ayde
'Gainst Thebes to lead an expedition.
Most eloquently did he supplicate,
And urg'd them stronglie to beecome allies,
That thus hee might obtaine, unto th' purpose,
Auxiliaries renow'd and skil'd in fight.
Had Jove withheld his unpropitious omens,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 259

Many Mycenseans had joyn'd his ranks.

But they retiring came to fayre Asopus,

Rushie and greene. This noble hero next

Was sent upon a distant embassie.

There, in the palace of Eteocles,

Many Cadmeans at a feast were found;

But nothing daunted by soe great a numbe',

Th' valiant knight boldlie did challenge all,

However many would with him co'tend. .

Mighty Minerva was so great a second

That easily he did orecome his foes,

And won in every contest. This enragM

The proud Cadmean youths, goaders of steeds,

And fifty of them, going slily forth,

Prepaid an ambuscade 'gainst his return.

There were two leaders, Mseon, th' brave sonne

O' noble Hsemon, and bold Lycophontes,

Sonne of Autophanus, foremost in fight,

And last to leave the field. These Tydeus slew,

Sparing not one save onely Hsemon's sonne;

Thereby th' threat'ning portents of the gods

Wiselie obeying, him alive he sav'd

And sent him home. Such was ^Etolian Tydeus,

But he begat a sonne, inferiour far

In courage, though superior in counsell."

Thus did he speake, and Diomed was still,
So greatly did hee reverence the king.

Not so the sonne of Capaneus, renown'd,
Who quicklie did reply: "Lie not, O sonne,
To Atreus, the divine, since thou dost know
The truth right well to speak. Never againe
Compare us thus unto our ancestors,

260 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

For we, indeed, doe rightly boast to' bee
Far better; for we, too, the citadell
Of seven-gated Thebes have overturn'd,
Leading beneath the walls, that sacred are
Unto the god of warre, far fewer troops:
Their owne infatuation was their mine.
Therefore I say, nere place me in the ranks
Of such men as our ancestors have beene."

But Diomed, sternly regarding him,
Address'd him thus: "0 Sthenelus, my friend,
Sit than, down silent and obey my words.
'Tis surelie no reproach unto Atrides,
Exhorting thus the well greav'd Greekes to fight.
His shall the glorie be, the honour his,
When sacred Ilium shall yeelded be:
But, on the other hand, mourning and griefe
Shall keepe with him their watch, if ere the Greekes
Shall be cut off. 'Tis time, therefore, to be
Fill'd with impiteous valour."

Thus he spake,

And leaped down upon the earth in haste
From the high chariot, girded in armes.
JIow dread the sound ! The stoutest heart might well
Quake as it heard.

As in the ocean wide,

A driving wind from the North-west comes forth
With force resistlesse, and the swelling waves
Succeed so fast that scarce an eye may see
Where one in pain doth bring another forth,
Till, on the rockie shore resounding loud,
They spit forth foam white as the mountaine snows,
And break themselves upon the ore jutting rocks

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 261

Thus, mightily, the Grecian phalanxes

Incessantly mov'd onward to th' battaile.

It might not then be said, that anie man

Possessed power of human speech or thought,

So silentlie did they their leaders follow

In reverentiall awe. Each chief commanded

The troops that came with him each led his owne

Glitt'ring in arms, bright, shining as th' sunne

While in well order* d phalanxes they mov'd.

Th' Trojan hosts were like unto a flocke,
Close in a penne folded at fall of night,
That bleating looke th' waye their young ones went,
And fill th' ayre with dire confusion
Such was the noyse amongst the Trojan hosts.
~No two gave utterance to the same crye,
So various were the. nations and the countries
From which they came. Mars these incited forth,
Minerva those inspir'd, with Terror dread,
And Rout; and Strife the sister unto Mars,
Th' homicide she goeth on the ground
And yet doth hide her head in mistie clouds,
And while along the plaine they madly haste,
She casts amongst them wild contention.

Like wintry mountaine torrent roaring loud
That frightes th' shepheard, in th' deepe ravine
Mixing th' floods tumultuously that poure
From forth an hundred gushing springs at once,
Thus did the deaf'ning battaile din arise,
When meeting in one place with direfull force,
In tumult and alarums, th' armies joyn'd.
Then might of warriour met an equall might;
Shields clasht on shields, th' brazen spear on spear,

BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

While dying groans mixt with, the battaile cry
In awesome sound; and steedes were fetlock deepe
In blood, fast flowing, as th' armies met.

Antilochus first slew Echepolus.
Upon th' horsehair crested helmet of the Trojan,
Th' mighty speare struck such a deadly blow,
It pierced through th' well wrought plates of brasse,
And deepe within his forehead was infixed.
Now sodainely blacke death oreshadowes him,
And like a tower he f alleth in th' dust,
In that fierce conflicte. Elephenor then,
Chief of th' most magnanimous Abantes,
Seeing him fall, in all swift haste proceeded
To drag him forth and of his armes despoyle him.
But this Agenor, th' magnanimous, descrying,
Aimed at him with skill his heavie beam,
Ev'n as the hero, bending down, reveal'd
His side unguarded 'neath his brazen shield.
At once the limbes relax' d, and falling down,
In groans he breathed out his heavie soule.
Then rose most dreadfull conflict 'mongst the foes
Trojan 'gainst Greek, and Greek 'gainst Trojan rush'd,
As they had beene the wild wolves of the forest,
And each bore down his man. Then mightie Ajax,
Sonne to brave Telamon, smote Simoi'sius,
Th' faire young sonne of bold Anthemio',
When, formerlie, his mother (following
Her honor'd sire) descended downe Mount Ida,
To beare her parents companie as they view'd
Th' assembl'd flocks, there on the flow'ry banks
Of Simoi's did she bring forth this sonne,
And for that cause him Simoi'sius nam'd.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 263

But nere could he repay th' tender care
Lavish'd on him, for Ajax saw his forme
As he advanc'd, and smote him with his speare.
Straight at his brest hee sent that heavie beam
And pierc'd him through: th' sharpe point might bee

seene

Protruding from his shoulder. Now he lieth
Low in th' dust, like some faire poplare tree,
Whose branches smooth that grow upon th' toppe,
Th' chariot builder lops and fairly trimms
For felloes to a royal chariot wheel:
Upon th' bankes it lies and slowly drieth.
Thus high-borne Ajax did this princelie sonne
Of brave Anthemion spoyle, though, to avenge him,
A sonne of Priam's Antiphus, who wore
Th' varied corselet aim'd his brazen spear
Full at his brest. But hee escap'd full light,
While Leucus fell, friend to Laertes' sonne,
Strucke in th' groyne. Ulysses, wroth thereat,
Rusht through th' van, bending his wrathfull gaze
Upon th' foe with threat of dreadfull death.
The Trojans backe recoyl'd as he drew near,
And, when he hurl'd his massive brazen spear,
Th' foremost ranks broke in confusion;
Ev'n Hector shrank from th' furie of his looke,
None there could meet it: nor was it in vaine
He threw his speare, since Priam's bastard sonne,
Democoon of Abydus, was strucke,
Who lately came fro' 'tending th' fleet mares
Priam there kept. Th' sharpe pointe pierc'd his

temple,
And darkenesse veyl'd his eyes, as downe he fell.

264 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Then rose a shout from all the Argive train
As wildly on they prest in mad pursuite;
Apollo at th' sight was sore displeas'd,
Greatly he grew in wrath, and looking downe
From Pergamos, he shouted to th' Trojans:

"Yee Trojan warriors, rouse yee to the fight,
Nor yeeld th' battell to th' impiteous Greekes;
Their flesh is not of stone, nor yet of brasse,
Impenetrable to well-pointed speares;
Nor doth th' sonne of faire hair'd Thetis fight,
Mighty Achilles, for at th' ships he sits
Nursing his spleene."

'Twas thus Apollo spake.
Meantime, Tritonia' Pallas to th' Greekes
Spake words of cheare, whenere she saw them flagging,
That straight did rouse new courage in th' breast.

But fate ensnarM Diores in her toyles,
Diores, sonne to Amarynceus brave,
For with a jagged handstone was hee struck
Upon the leg above the ancle joynt.
Th' leader of th' Thracian warriours, Pirus,
Th' sonne of Imbrasus, who came from ^Enos,
It was that hurl'd the swift impiteous stone,
That, crushing bone and sinew at a blow,
A wyde way made t' let forth living breath.
So downe hee fell supine upon the sands ,

And breathed forth his life. Yet Pirus stay'd not;
Hee still ran on and thrust him with his spear:
Then all his bowels in his body brast,
While darknesse vayl'd his eyes.

^Etolian Thoas,
With fury fierce and wild, then 'pon him fell,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 265

And, with the push of his sharp-pointed speare,

So strong and hard strooke Pirus on the breast,

It seized, as a vulture's evill beak,

Upon his lungs. Then Thoas, hastily,

Out of the gored wound the cruell speare

Lightly doth snatch, and straightwaye his quick sward

Out of his sheath hee drew, and smote him there

And took away his life ; yet did hee not

Of war-like armes despoyle the fallen hero,

Because that, suddenlie, around him gathered

A Thracian band, that drove him from his prize

At point o' speare. Valiant and glorious

He was, and strong of heart, yet muBt he yeeld

Unto that hot and fierce repulse, for none,

How brave soever, could withstand such force.

Thus was th' Thracian leader, Pirus, slain,

And likewise, lying low i' th' dust, we see

Beside him that Epean leader brave,

Diores, while full many more close by,

Like fruitlesse seed, their lives around did strow.

Then could not anie man behold that fight,

And say the action was not glorious,

Whether of those who at a distance stood

With sharp spears fighting, and escap'd the blows,

Or those who near at hand had yet not felt

The piercing brasse, though in the fiercest strife,

Whom eage' Pallas leading by the hand

Preserv'd from death, and skilfullie averted

Th' violent darts: nor truly may one tell,

How many Greek, how many Trojan knights,

Stretch' d prone upon the earth, lay side by side

Coldly embracing death.

266 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

This work is hereafter persew'd after the originall
modell, with the argument of the twentie following books
given in this manner. The preceding verses, although more
then a running note, were written as a supream effort of
memorie, yet, also, with a desire which was naturall of
making the work in some measure easier; for this reason
also, much of book three, and the table of the commanders,
doth appear in full, but not in the form which it hath in
that early poeme. Your part is to seeke it out, and fitly
joyne the fragments, to do which you doe not surely need
furder instruction, but much patience and skill.

In the fift book of this great poeme, will the exploits of
Diomedes be related, who perform'd miracles of valour and
even wounded Venus in the hand. And Mars likewise he
drave roaring from the field, hurt and wrathful, for both
these imortals ayded the Trojans. But them mightie Dio-
medes dreadeth not to engage in a hand to hand conflict,
for Minerva render 5 d him both glorious and mightie, mak-
ing his helmet and shield shine like a sommer starre, like-
wise increasing the strength of his sinews and th' courage
in his breast.

First the two sonnes of Vulcan's blamelesse priest,
Dares, rich and famous as well, Phegeus and Idseus, skill'd
in all sorte of battaile, rusht upon Diomed as he stood alone ;
but with his javelin, hee thrust Phegeus downe and forc'd
him out of his chariot. Then Idseus, fearing like harm,
leapt downe from th' very tteautifull chariot, nor stay'd to
protect the body^ of his brother, whose fate he surely would
at once bring upon himselfe, could he not escape. Vulcan,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 267

mov'd with compassio' to the old man, sav'd his sonne, cov-
ering him with a thicke cloud. But when the Trojans saw
the sonnes o' Dares, one slaine, the other in flight, all their
hearts were discomforted.

Thereupon Pallas Minerva, leading Mars gently from
th' field, seated him upon grassie Scamande', saying to him
that 'twere much better should they leave th' battaile to th'
Greekes and Trojans, that the wrath of Jove might be
averted. Afterwards th' Greekes turn'd th' Trojans to
flight, while each leader slew his man. Agamemnon, vio-
lently hurling forth th' mighty spear, smote the leade' o'
th' Halizonians, Hodius, that first did turn. Betweene th'
shoulder blades that sharpe point enter'd, and pierc'd
through his brest. With a crash he fell and his armes re-
sounded loud.

Then Idomeneus slew Phaestus, who came from fertile
Tarne, a sonne to Mseonian Borus. Him with his long
lance he wounded in the shoulder, when as he was mount-
ing his chariot. So downe he fell, and darknesse seiz'd
him; Idomeneus' companions, his attendants, despoyl'd him
of his armes.

Next Menelaus, sonne of Atreus, kill'd Scamandrius, the
sonne of Strophius, skill'd in the chase, an excellent marks-
man. Now, indeed, cannot avail the ayd of arrow-rejoycing
Diana, nor his skilful long-distance shots, because Menelaus,
the sonne of Atreus, hurled at him his sharpe spear, and
smote him so fiercely in the back that th' sharpe point
pierc'd thorow his brest. So he fell prone, and his armes
resounded loud.

Meriones slew Phereclus, sonne to th' artist Harmon who
was skill'd in all handicraft for Minerva lov'd him exceed-
ing well. 'Twas he who built those equall shippes for

268 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Paris, t-h' source of woes and bane to all the Trojans, but
most to himselfe, not knowing what was meant by the
oracles of the gods. Meriones followed close, and, overtak-
ing him, thrust the spear into his hip. Th' brazen pointe
pass'd through beneath the bone, and penetrated th' bladder.
Falling upon his knees with loud lamentings, he pass'd into
the shadowes of death.

Next Pedseus was overtaken by Meges. He was a nat-
ural sonne o' Antenor yet noble Theano rear'd him as care-
fully as her own dear children, to gratifie th' heart of her
husband. Him the spear-fam'd sonne of Phyleus, Meges,
thrust through the back of the head with a spear, and the
point found its way out under his tongue through the teeth:
and low in the dust hee fell as he caught the cold head in
his teeth.

But Eurypylus, sonne to Evaemon, kill'd Hypsenor,
sonne to Dolopion, Vulcan's honoured priest; following
him, hee smote him with the sword, cutting off his heavy
hand which was red with gore. As it fell, bloud-red Death
veyl'd his sight.

Then no eye could distinguish the sonne o' Tydeus, to
know to which army he belong'd. Like a mountaine tor-
rent (that neyther bankes nor fences may keep from fair
blooming fields) which, swolne greatly by th' rain-storms of
fathe' Jove, tumultuously doth overflow the plaine, and
overturne many workes the vigourous youths have labour* d
long to compleat, so Diomedes rusht along the plaine dis-
comfiting th' hosts of th' foe. Here, there, and everywhere,
at once hee flew, and perform'd prodegys of valour.

"When, therefore, Pandarus saw him sweeping through
the field and driving the Troyans before him, hee drew his
crooked bow and aimed at him an arrowe, by which he

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 269

thought to stay his course. The cruell arrowe sped forth so-
swiftly that Diomedes could not avoid it. The shaft struck
sharply upon his shoulder, piercing the corselet and coming
through on the other side.

Seeing this Pandarus, rejoycing, exhorted his compan-
ions to return, boasting that hee had wounded to the death
one of the bravest of the Greekes. But Diomedes approacht
his chariot where th' sonne of Capaneus, Sthenelus, friend
of his heart, remain'd with th' magnificent chariot and
steeds, and entreated him that he would leap down out of
the chariot, and remove from the wound the deeply piercing
arrow; for hee was anger'd because Pandarus declared he
would not long behold th' glorious light of the sun. There-
upon bold Sthenelus drew forth the arrow, and the blood
spurted through th' twisted mayle.

Then Diomedes prayed aloud to Pallas Minerva that she
would ayde him in th' fight, if ever he or his sire, in former
times, had beene aided by her. His prayer was heard, and
granted. Minerva increast th' might of his soule and body
many times more then their wont, and also made his eyes so
clear that they could discerne gods and men, but injoyn'd
upon him to injure no other save Venus should hee chance
to meet her. Whereupon hee went forth at once, strong in
the might Minerva bestow'd, resembling, indeed, a lion
(that a heardsman slightlie grazing as he leaps over the
courtyard, but in his fright injures no further) [which] re-
joyces as he sees the sheep abandon'd, soe Diomedes,
rejoyc'd in heart, mixt quickly with his foes, and slew so
many that ^Eneas, in alarm, sought Lycaon's sonne, begging
him to aim an arrow at th' warriour that was making such
havocke among th' Trojans.

270 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Both fear'd that he might be a god, angrie because their
sacrifices at times had been neglected.

Pandarus soone recognis'd him as Tydeus' sonne, having
seene his shield, the oblong helmett which hee wore, and
observing his steeds. Yet was hee perswaded in his owne
minde it was not meerelie Tydides whom they fought, but
that hee must bee ayded by some one of the immortalls,
that, standing near, wrapt in a cloud about the head and
shoulders, turned aside the shaft that otherwise would hit
him; for he would not thinke that it was by any lack of
skill on his part that both th' chieftaines the sonne of
Tydeus and Atreus' sonne at whom he had aymed swift
arrows, had escapt death, inasmuch as he saw bloud gush-
ing from th' wounds.

Therefore hee regretted much that hee had not brought
with him th' eleven richly ornamented chariots and the
steeds which he had left at the palaces of his sire. In his
discomfiture he vowed, that, returning to Lycia, he would
break in pieces and caste into the fire th' crooked bowe, or
the forfeit should bee his owne head.

But ^Eneas reprov'd Pandarus, cheared up his heart,
and stirred up his' failing courage. Then together they bore
down upon Diomed to take his life by force. Sthenelus,
seeing them hast'ning on, urg'd Diomede to withdraw from
such unequall conflict.* Diomed did not falter, however,
Minerva had soe steel'd his heart.

With loud threats, Lycaon's sonne aym'd his spear at
Diomedes but hurt him not. Then he, in turn, hurl'd his
long lance at Pandarus, which passed through his mouth,
coming out under his teeth; so downe he fell. Then lie
smote JEneas so that he fell upon his knees, while darknesse
veyPd his eyen. Then would hee, too, have perished, had

ARGUMENT OP THE ILIAD. 271

not Venus rescued him and covered him in folds of her robe
that no weapon could pierce. Thus was hee saved.

Meantime th' magnificent chariot and steeds were taken
to the Greekes by Sthenelus, who was not heedlesse of those
strict commands that Diomedes laid upon him. But hee
himselfe hastened to return to the reliefe of Diomed, who
was pursewing laughter-loving Venus through the crowd.
In truth, he wounded her in th' hand, causing her great
paine, so that she screamed aloud and cast her sonne downe
againe. Thereupon Apollo cover'd him from sight by
casting over him a cloud. Ichor flowed from the wound
for they eat not bread nor drinke darke wine, therefore
bloud doth not flow in their veines, and they are called
immortalls. Iris seeing this, led Venus from the throng,
and, finding Mars upon the side of the field, begg'd his
steeds in order to take Venus to Olympus. Swiftly were
they borne upwards, and Dione, mother of the goddesse,
soothed her and wip'd away th' icho' gently, so that she
was heal'd at once, while to fortifie Venu' spirits, she told
of other immortalls that suffer'd paine because of mortal
foes. First, Mars, who was imprisoned thirteen moneths;
then Juno, who was wounded by a three-prong shaft; then
Pluto, also. But she foretold a short life to Diomedes be-
cause of his rashnesse, saying that no sonne should lisp th'
name of father at his knee. *

But Juno and Minerva scoffing said t' Jove, trulie it
could be only a scratch, which Venus had received while
she caressed some dame among th' Greekes, whom she
wish'd to bring away for th' Trojan chief es, who were 'her
principall charge, since she lov'd them dearly.

Meanwhile Diomedes did not hesitate to attack ^neas,
tho' conscious he would also strive with a god, because hee

272 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

was shielded by Apollo.. Thrice did he advance upo' him,
and thrice hee was repell'd but as he approach'd for th'
fourth time, menaci'g dreadfullie, the god reproved him
and bade him desist, nor thinke himselfe equall to th' gods.
Thus he was forc'd to draw backe slightly. Then Apollo
withdrew ^Eneas from th' fight, and, creating a phantom
that resembled him, sent it to th' battaile; and round this
the contest was renewed with terrible fury.

Sitting upon Pergamos, Apollo exhorted Mars to rouse
th' courage of the Trojans, which hee proceeded to do.
Then Sarpedon addrest Hector recalling to his mind a boast
that hee and his kindred, the sonnes of Priam, could unaid-
ed defend th' citty, yet they affrighted were cowering like
dogs before a lion.

This reproach gnawed Hector's verie soule, and bran-
dishing in his hands his sharpe speares, hee leaped downa
and rusht forth rousing their ardor. But th' Greekes,
awaiting in solide ranks their attacke, were not driven backe
nor discomfited by the onslaught.

Th' two Ajaces [and] Ulysses joyn'd Diomedes, inciting
and haranguing them to hearten them for a terrible strug-
gle. Like clouds about the summit of Olympus when
Boreas sleepeth, and all other windes having driven away
th' soft and shadowy vapour are hushed, as these, calme,.
immovable, stood th' Greekes.

Apollo in the meantime had sent .ZEneas back to the
field wholy restored, invigorated and endow'd with new
powers. This greatly rejoyc'd th' Trojans, but they said
not a word, nor asked a question, so great was the labor
each warrior leader or souldier had to perform.

The sonne o' Atreus slew a chiefe, who was ^Eneas'
companion. ^Eneas kill'd two Greek youthes, sonnes of

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 373

Diocles, descended from the Eiver Alpheus, dwelling in
Pherae. They were as two young lions with the dam,
but they fell like lofty firs upon th' mountayne side.
Menelaus seeing this pitied them, and hastened to avenge
their death. Pressing forwards through the van, shining
in brasse, brandishing his spear, he stood; but Antilochus,
th' sonne of Nestor, saw him and follow'd him to give
him ayd, for he fear'd for th' shepheard of th' people,
least they should bee disappointed of their hope. But
seeing two heroes thus standing, ^Eneas, though an eager
warriour, retreated. Then Agamemnon hurling with his
spear, slew a generall of th' Halizonians, and Antilochus
hitting his charioteer on his elbow, causing those beautiful
reines to droppe, ran on to drive the steeds to the Greekes,
and quickly return'd that he might protecte Agamemnon.
Hector, beholding this, rushed on vociferating loudly,
and behind him the Trojan phalanxes follow'd. Mars and
venerable Bellona, with tumultuous Din, were with
Hector the former sometimes pacing before him, some-
times in th' rerewarde. Only th' dread presence of th'
god could terrify Diomedes, whose course is stopt as by a
mightie river; but addressing his companions, he exhorted
them not to put their lives in jeopardie with a god, for
'twould not avail ought. Then the Trojans advanc'd very
near, and Hector slew Menesthes and Anchialus, both
being in one chariot, And Amphius, who had come as
an ally to Troy, was struck with a speare caste by Tela-
monian Ajax. Falling, he made a crash: then illustrious
Ajax hastened to him, set his heele on his body, and drew
from the bloudy wound his brazen speare, but did not
possesse himselfe of any armour because of the many
speares of the Trojans.

274 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Thus they, on the one hand, toyl'd in conflict. Now
fate urgM on two doughtie heroes sonne and grandesonne
to King Jove Sarpedon and Tlepolemus. These spake
together, Tlepolemus first addressing brave Sarpedon,
taunted the sonne of Jove with his unwarlike nature, ask-
ing how he could suppose himselfe the sonne of Jove, while
boastes of th' deeds his mighty, lion-hearted sire in former
times had accomplish' d, were ever mingl'd with his scoffs ;
recounting how Hercules had come to Illium, with onely
few men in six vessells, and overturn'd the citty, widowing
the streets, to recover the steedes which Laomedon still
continued to withhold.

Sarpedon, unable to refute the charge, himselfe most
frankly admitted the defeate, yet cast th' blame upon
Laomedon; but he on his owne part hence would send th'
soule of Tlepolemus to steed-fam'd Pluto.

Straightway both hurl'd their long speares at th' same
instant. Sarpedon's enter'd th' neck, and darknesse veil'd
the eyes. But the ashen speare of Tlepolemus penetrated
the left thigh, grazing th' bone, so that he was overthrowne,
but his father suffer' d him not to die.

Then his companions dragg'd him aside, even while yet
th' speare remained in th' member, and it gave him great
sufferance. As hee was borne thence, Ulysses was uncer-
taine whether 'twould bee wiser to folow Sarpedon and
put an end to his life, or continue a slaughter of th' Lycians.
Jove would not permit his sonne to be subdued under th'
mighty spear of Ulysses, and Minerva persuaded th' minde
of the hero to turne to th' latter. He slew Coeranus, Alcan-
der, Chromius, Alastor, Noemo', Halius, and Prytanis
and would still have continued the work, had not Hector
come forth in shine of brazen armour, bearing terror to
th' Greeks.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 275

But th' heart of Sarpedon rejoyc'd, and quickly he
address' d Hector, begging that hee would take him to
Troy, saying hee would die there rathe' then where he
lay, if, indeed, he might neve' return to gladden his dear
wife and infant sonne. Hector stay'd not, however, nor
spake a word, so intent was he upon his quest, desiring
onely to repell th' Greeks and take the lives of many.

Then th' noble companions of Sarpedon remov'd him,
carrying him to a beautiful beech tree of ^Egis-bearing
Jove, and Pelagon drew forth th' speare. Thereupon ani-
mation left him and darknesse fell upon his eyes, but he
reviv'd when Boreas breath'd over all th' place.

Th' Greekes did not (on account of Hector and Mars)
retire to th' shippes, nor would their rankes give waye,
yet were they compell'd to yeeld ground.

Th' question commeth here as to whom did Mars (with
Hector) slay, and answer is thus made: Teuthras, th'
knight Orestes, then ^Etolian Trechus, with CEnomaus,
Helenus of the race of (Enops, Oresibus of Hyla, neare
Lake Cephissus, and by him dwelt other Bosotians who
possess'd a rich country.

But Juno now address'd Minerva, and said they should
now come short of th' solemn promise made to Menelaus,
did they permit destructive Mars longer to rage, and bade
her devise some meanes to aide him. She, herselfe, sought
her golden caparisoned steeds, and, in the meantime, vener-
able Hebe speedily applied to th' chariot to th' iron axle-
tree on both sides th' golden eight spok'd wheeles. Of
these th' felloes were of gold imperishable, but the tires
that rimmed them were all brasse; th' naves of silver;
th' body was stretched on with gold and silver thongs;
and from a double circula' rim there projected th' pole of

276 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

silver, to which was fastened th' beauteous golden yoake,
and here poytrells of gold were attach'd. But Juno
brought th' steeds under th' yoake herselfe, so eager was th'
goddesse for conquest and th' battaile.

Pallas Minerva let fall upon th' floor o' her father
Jove th' beautifully variegated embroydered robe which
she wore, and hasten'd to put on a tunick. The' round
her shoulders she threw th' dreadfull fring'd .ZEgis. On it
appear' d plum'd Terror on all sides; thereon was mighty
Fortitude; thereon also was chilling Pursuite; thereon
was Strife; thereon was th' dreadfull Gorgonian head, dire r
horrible, a portente of ^Egis-bearing Jove. Likewise upon
her head she donned her foure-crested, golden helmet, with
spreading metall ridge, equall to th' armour of a hundred
citties. Finally she took in hand th' mighty speare she
was wont to wield, then she stept into her beautifull chariot;
but Juno spurr'd on th' restles, pawing steeds. Then
Jove's faire Howres, which watch Olympus' gates, threw
wide th' portals that they should goe through, and soone th'
highest summits of Olympus were gain'd, and Jove, apart
from all th' others, was found there sitting.

Eagerly Juno beg'd that she might drive Mars, th'
frantick one, hither, who griev'd her with th' slaughte' of
so many Greeks that she held dear, but pleas'd Apollo
and Venus, who had let slip this god of warre. And hee
was ready to gratify her wish, but bade her send Minerva
rather then go herselfe.

Thereupon the goddesses descended Olympus, passing-
through th' space midwaye betweene the earth and that
starrie heaven. At each leap th' steeds went as farre as
th' eye can reach along the darkling ocean when gray
mist doth lie over it. But when they reached Troy, where

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 277

th' river Simoi's and Scamander joyne, Juno unyok'd her
steeds and shed a soft mist round them. Then th' River
Simoi's afforded them ambrosial fodder.

With steppes like to timorous doves, the goddesses
approach'd th' Greekes, that, as ravening lions or wild
boares, stood in close array around Diomed. Likening her-
selfe to Stentor, th' great-hearted and braze'-ton'd, who
was accustom'd to shout as loud, indeed, as fiftie other
men, Juno cried to them that 'twas shame to them all
that their hearts were but ill suited to bodies so admirable,
and reminded them that when god-like Achilles was in the
field, th' Troja's fought not farr from th' Dardan gates,
because they fear'd his speare, but that they now ventur'd
close upon the hollowe shippes, farre away from the citty.

Then blew-eyed Pallas hasten'd to Diomedes, and found
him by th' side of his chariot, cooling the wound he had
receiv'd from th' swift arrow Pandarus had aym'd at him,
for th' moisture unde' his shield's wide band caus'd him
great discomfort, and his hand was aweary. Then Minerva
touch'd th' yoake of the steedes and said:

"O little like himself e is the sonne Tydeus hath begotten !
Hee in very truth was but smal of stature, but a warriour;
and though I would not suffer him at all times to fight, nor
to rush furiously to the battaile, even when he went on an
ambassage to Thebes, he still retain'd his courageous spirit,
and strove with numerous Cadmea's, and easilie conquered
all, so powerfull an ally was I unto him. But tho.u art
farre unlike Tydeus, and unworthy to bee call'd the sonne
of such a man. For tho' I am constantlie inciteing thee
against th' Trojans, and shielding [the^J from harm, eyther
thou dost weary, or feare doth now dishearten thee."

But unto her valiant Diomed in reply thus spake:

278 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

"I know thee well, O thou daughter of ^Egis-bearing Jove,
and I will plainly tell thee, nor seeke to conceale from
thee, why I have left the fight. Neyther am I weery
nor is my soule possest with feare. Thou, thy own selfe,
in sending me unto the battaile, injoyn'd on me to fight
only against Venus and wound her with th' pointed spear,
but to contend with no other immortall. Therefore have
I retyr'd from the field, and have drawne away the o-the'
Greekes also, because I perceive Mars dispensing now the
battaile."

To him blue-ey'd Minerva said: "Tydides, deare to my
soule, neythe' neede thou in thy heart quaile before god
Mars or any other of th' immortalls, so great an auxiliary
am I unto thee. Then come now, direct th' solid-hooved
steeds against implacable Mars, and engage him in close
combat, nor regard this phrensied and unnaturall pest
this weather-vane! For hee lately promis'd Juno and
myself e that he would aide th' Trojans no more, and would
assist th' Greekes. But now, alas, he mixeth with th'
Trojans and forgetteth all this."

Thus did she speake, and laying hold upon his com-
panion, Sthenelus, dragg'd him backeward. Leaping
quickly downe, he yeelded th' place, Minerva straight-
way, arous'd to fury, mounted the chariot and seized both
goade and reines, directing Diomede to encounter Mars,
who had now slaine Periphas, bravest of th' ^Etolians.
Then. Pallas put on the helmet of Pluto (which caused
her to bee invisible) that impiteous Mars might not see her.
But he, espying Diomedes, left fallen Periphas and
went against him. Leaning farre out over his reins, over
th' yoake of his steeds he caste his brazen-headed speare.
Yet Minerva caught it as it sped and turn'd it aside. As

279

Diomed, however, sent forth his weapon, shee guided its
course so that it penetrated the lower flank, where it was
covered with th' girdle, but shee withdrew it at once.
Then god Mars roared louder, much louder then any nine
or ten thousand men when they joyne in strife of the
battaile, that the Greekes and Trojans hearing th' bellow-
ing were affrighted. Then as a haze appeareth when a
hot winde doth blowe for a long season, soe Mars ascending
unto heav'n appear 5 d to Diomedes. Going to Olympus,
and seating himselfe by his father Jove, hee shewed his
woundes and wiped away th' immortall bloud, addressing
words to Jove that were swift as wing'd arrowes, com-
plaining that hee in no wise restrain'd the daughter he had
begotten, she that was the cause of continuall strife
'mongst the other immortalls. But Jove reprov'd him
sharply, saying that he was most hatefull of all Olympian
gods, and inconstant above all the others; that he found
discorde and warres ever most gratefull, and possess'd th'
insufferable, unbending disposition of his mother, Juno.
In truth hee beleeved that had Juno not led him on, hee
had not suffer'd thus; yet owned that Mars' paine so
griev'd his owne heart that he could not endure it, inasmuch
as Mars was his sonne, but said t' him that had he, being
so destructive, beene the sonne of other immortalls, long
since would his place have beene lower then that of the
sonnes of Uranus.

Thus saying, Jove straightway commanded Pseon to
heale him, which hee proceeded to doe, applying remedies,
for hee was not mortall. As when the juices of the figge-
tree stirr'd into milke quicklie cruddle it, the remedies
quickly heal'd th' woundes of impiteous Mars. Hebe
washed him and decked him in beauteous robes. Then,
exulting in glory, he sat downe by Saturnian Jove.

380 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Whereupon Juno and that great assista't Minerva, hav-
ing stay'd from dreadfull deeds of death, Mars, the man-
slayer, return'd to the pallace of mighty Jove.

VI.

And now th' dread battaile of Trojans and Greekes
was abandon'd by th' gods, and victory sway'd most clearly
to the Greekes.

Helenus counsell'd Hector to give order that all meet
together to make supplication in the citadell to Minerva
i. e., the Trojan dames and the old men unable t' mixe
with th' warriours instructing Hecuba, mother to both,
that an embroder'd robe be presented to th' goddess, and
twelve yereling heyfers be promist in sacrifice. Hector
therefore leapt downe from his chariot, and brandishing
his speares, went throughout the army inciting th' hosts,
urging them into the thicke of the conflicte, avowing
what was his mission to th' citty. No soone' was he thus
gone to Troy, then Tydides and Glaucus met face to face
eager to fight, but first Tydides, inquiring, ask'd th' name
and lineage of his opposer: thereupon Glaucus replied hee
was well-descended, and in giving his genealogie, told th'
sad tale o' Bellerophon, sonne of PrcBtus, sent into farre-
distant lands by that deluded syre, at the request of his
false-hearted wife th' young man's stepp-mother who,
failing in her designe of seduction, hated him as much as
she had loved him untill so fayling. Whereupon, being
sent with secret writing to the king of Lycia, he was (th'
space of nine daies) much attended and honour'd as a guest,
and sonne t' Prretus, spouse o' th' king's daughte'. Yet,
upon seeing th' message which Bellerophon had given him,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 281

the subtile soveraigne of the Lycians put upon him many
great labours. These, however, were all accomplish'd, and
whe' it became known that Bellerophon was the offspring
of a god, the Lycian soveraigne gave him as his wife one
of his daughters; and by her he became the sire of both
sonnes and that fayre daughter, Laodamia, whom Jove
himselfe secretly loved. Of one of these sonnes, Glaucus
was th' offspring.

Then Diomedes, when hee heard this, well remember'd
this sire as a guest in his father's house, and spake of it.
Both doughty warriours then leapt downe to give the hand,
thus bespeaking amitie. And Jove depriving Glaucus of
all prudent foresight, hee exchanged armes with Diomed,
giving his rich golden armour for brazen the valewe of
an hundred oxen for the valewe of nine.

But when Hector arrived at the Seian gates, wives and
mothers surrounded him to ask for th' welfare of th' sonnes,
brothers, friends and husbands in th' field. He, however,
straightway ordered that all should supplicate th' gods,
so many evills were impending. Then he hasten'd to the
beautifull pallace of Priam, and his fond mother there met
him and hung upon his hand, begging that wine might be
brought, that he might pour upon th' earth a libation unto
Jove and th' other immortal Is. This Hector declin'd,
saying he wisht nought that would enervate him, nor did
he hold it meete that hee come with gory hands to offer
vowes to th' powerful sonne of Saturn; but bade Hecuba,
from th' rare stores they possest, select the most beautifull
robe and bear it to Minerva's temple, vowing to her twelve
yeerelings that never felt the goade, if she will avert from
sacred Illiurn Tydides, that fierce warriour, valiant author
of terror.

282 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

Whilst Hecuba was thus eiigag'd (in companie with
other dames of distinction) Hector pass'd on to the
beauteous halls, where Alexander built for himself lofty
and splendid apartments, close by those of Hector and
Priam. There hee found Paris pollishing brightly the
golden armour and fitting th' crooked bowe. Sharpely he
reproached him for his infatuation, saying also that his
rage was ill suited to th' time. Threat to the safety of
Illium mennaced on everie hand, and he himselfe would
reprove any other warriour that was' thus remisse in th'
hatefull battaile. But Paris disclaimed all this, and said
it was because of griefe, chiefely, rather then rage or
indignation, that he was thus absent from the fight; but
that his wife, with kinde words, had urg'd him to go forth,
and he also thought it would be better.

But Hector made no answer. Helen spake soothingly
to him, regretting in her soule that a tempest, at the hour
o' her comeing into the world, had not carried her off to
some mountayne top, or to the sea to be a prey to the
billowes. Then she begg'd Hector to be seated, but hee
would not be perswaded to remaine, although hee was sensi-
ble of her courtesie, urging but one thing: that Paris come
at once unto the battaile.

Then he went to his dwelling that he might look upon
his wife, the faire Andromache, and his infant sonne, since
the gods had perchance decreed his fall at that battaile.
His wife he did not find, for she had gone forth unto the
walls. Thither Hector follow'd, and Andromache espying
him ran out to meete him, with her a maid bearing th*
child. Andromache took hold on Hector, saying it was
strange he should go out so fearlesslie to th' warre without
pitty for her or his child, foretelling that valour would

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 283

destroy him, and bemoaning her fate. Hector replied, it
were shame to all the Trojans should he not defend th'
citty; but spake eloquentlie, with tender paine and sorrow,
of Andromache's possible captivitie and servitude. Then
he streteht forth his arms for his child, but th' infant,
affrighted at th' nodding plumes, (also because of all that
glitt'ring brasse) hid his face in th' bosom of his nurse.
Hector, smiling, took off his helmet and plac'd it upon the
ground; then he fondled his little sonne, whilst he praied
aloud that he might become a brave souldier, even braver
then he, his valiant sire, a joy to his mother.

Then he placed the boy tenderly in his wife's arms.
She tearfully smil'd, and the babe hid .his face in her
bosome. Soothing words Hector then ddth speake, and
doth pray her to beleeve none can send him to th' shades
of death untill his date be out; and not a man that is borne
can escape fate, bee he brave or cowardlie. Her he bade
return to the care of th' household, whilst hee went forth
again to battaile.

VII.

Neythe' did Alexander staye behind, but joyn'd his
brother as hee pass'd forth, and together they went to the
field to hew down the Greeks. Minerva, seeing them
destroying manie, descended Olympus hastily to staie them;
but Apollo, knowing her mission, met her and proposed
anothe' course of action. This was nothing less then that
Hector might challenge the bravest of the Greekes to
single -combat.

This beeing agreed upon it was made knowne to Hector,
who straightway sent a roisting challenge 'mongst th' wait-
ing Greekes. By the tearms of this challenge, th' armour

384 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

of the conquer'd should go to the victor, but the bodie
should be sent to his owne people. The Greekes were all
mute with dread, yet asham'd to refuse.

Then Menelaus addrest them, calling them but dames
without courage, and said he would accept th' invitation
himselfe. This would have beene sure death, and Atrides
knew it; therefore hee, seizing th' hand of his brother,
dissuading with eloquence, prevail'd upon him to give over.

Then Nestor rose and, inciting thei' courage, told of his
brave actions in his youth, and longed to have once more
the mighty strength of former yeeres.

Nine warriours rose in answer to his appeale.
Agamemnon much the first rose up, then Diomed and the
two Ajaces, next Idomeneus, then his armour-bearer,
Meriones, after them Eurypylus, Tnoas and divine Ulysses.
All these wish'd to goe out to fight Hector, but the Gerenian
knight, Nestor, bade them decide by lot who should accept
his challenge. Then each mark'd his owne lot and cast
it into th' helmet of Atrides, the king. Then they pray'd
aloud that Ajax, or Tydides might get the lot, or th'
Mycenaean king himselfe. The Gerenian knight shooke
the helmet and the lot of Ajax leapt out. A herald then
let each chiefe see th' lot as he pass'd from right to left.
But all disclaim'd it until he came to Ajax, who, stretching
forth his hand for it, saw that it was th' one that he had
marked, and, in soule rejoycing, cast it upon the ground,
saying to all that the lot was his, and bidding them silently
lift up prayers lest the Trojans heare, or even aloud for
nothing daunted him, nor did hee lacke skill and use.

Then they supplicated Jove, praying that Ajax might
bear away the victory, but if he lov'd Hector with an equall
love, give an equall might and glory to both. When Ajax,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. ?85

therefore, had put on his armour, he rusht forward, grimly
smiling. The Greekes rejoyc'd at the sight, but the Trojan
warriours trembled, and even Hector's soule thrill'd and
panted, since having given challenge it was impossible to
retract. Then mighty Ajax bade Hector note many heroes
besides Achilles amongst the Greekes, and begg'd him to
beginne the strife and battaile.

Hector in turne replied he knew all shiftes and passes,
but he would scorne any but open warfare. Then he hurls
the long beam so forcibly that it pierces th' outer brasse of
that seven-fold oxhide shield and penetrates sixe layers, but
stays in the sevent fast fixt Now Ajax hurls a mightie
speare, and it goeth through his equal shield, nor staies
untill it through his curat glides and cuts in tway his
tunicke near the flank, but bending or turning hee escapes
blacke death. Drawing forth th' speares, like ravening
lions or boars, they againe joyn'd battaile. The point of
Hector's was bent on Ajax' shield, but Ajax' weapon
repelled and wounded Hector. Yet did he not cease from
the combat, but, seizing a great stone lying in the plain,
hurl'd it forth, strook the shield of Ajax upo' the bosse so
that it rang loudly. He in turne snatcht up a heavier stone,
and dispatcht it with such force it broke through Hector's
shield and wounded him in the knee, so that he fell supine.
But Apollo quickly rered him. And now, in a close hand
to hand combat with the sword, both would have had
deadlie wounds had not the message come to them to cease.
The heralds, Talthybius and Idseus, were sent from eyther
side, bidding th' battaile cease in obedience to approaching
Night. Ajax, however, must hear it utter'd by him whom
he fought ere he yeelded. Hector therefore pronounc'd
similar words, and, exchanging gifts, they separated.

386 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Then councils were held among both Trojans and
Greekes. Nestor avis'd th' Greekes to seeke forth their
dead; to build one common pile, before which- a trench
should bee dug, (and beside it gates should bee erected for
the chariots to pass through) a bulwark to their camp.

Meanwhile Antenor was exhorting th' assembled
Trojans that they should let Helen go; but Paris refused
with warmth, whylst proposing he should restore th' treas-
ures, and add something thereto. Priam likewise
harangued them, saying it were well they first goe to their
repast, mindfull ever of the watch, and in the morning
send a herald to the Greekes to lay before them proposalls
of a truce (that those that were slaine might be burn'd) at
th' time he made them th' offer of Paris, which he bade the
herald say must be accepted, or they would fight again till
fate divide them or give th' victory to one or the other.

But when Idseus bore th' word to the Greeks, they
receyv'd it mutely. But brav Diomed bade them receyve
neither Helen nor the treasures, for even a babe could see
that an evill fate impended over th' Trojans; and all th'
Greekes shouted in approval. Whereupon Agamemnon
bade the herald heare this expression of sentiment that
accorded fully with his owne. Yet as co'cern'd the dead,
they bore them no grudge, therefore might they performe
hastily their obsequies with fire, but Jove must be a wit-
nesse to the treaties. Then he raised up his scepter to
the gods, and both hastily brought forth their dead and
built their pyles.

The Greekes built a wall and strong towers, and put
therein gates thorow which the chariots might passe; and
without it, dug a deep ditch wherein postes, well sharpen'd,
were set. Th' gods, observing th' defence, admirM it; but

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 287

Neptune made a plaint that the wall he and Apollo had
built round the citty of Troy for Laomedon would be
eclips'd. Jove reprov'd th' Earth-shaker, saying he could
easily overturne th' wall, obliterate everie trace of it with
sand, and th' place thereof know it no more.

At set of sun the wall was compleated, and they took
repast. Then shippes from Lemnos bearing wine from
Euneiis, the sonne o' Jason, came. A thousand measures
were a present fro' Euneiis to Atreus' sonns, but, for the
rest, th' Greekes gave in exchange large portions of brasse,
iron, skins, and even oxen and slaves, and they feasted
bounteously all the night. In Troy also they made a great
feast, but Jove, meantime, with loud thunderings, was
devising evills that should fall on Greekes and Trojans
alike; and pale feare tooke hold upon all, and they dar'd
not drinke till they pour'd out a libation to Saturn's
supreme sonne, but afterwards lay downe and enjoy'd the
boon of sleepe.

VIII.

Then Jove, having summon'd the Olympian gods to an
assembly upon the very summit of th' highest mount, for-
bade them to take any further part in th' conflicte 'twixt
the Greekes and Trojans. At Mount Ida, consulting the
scales of Destiny, he directs his forked-lightnings against
the Greekes. jSTestor now, in th' chariot of Diomed doth
goe out agaynst Hector, whose mighty charioteer Diomed
slays; then Jove, thund'ring, turn'd backe the Greekes, and
they sought refuge within their bulwarks. And - then
indeed would Hector have press'd with fire to the very
shippes, load not venerable Juno put it into th' heart and
mind of Agamemnon (seeing this returne of his hosts) to

288 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

urge, as vehemently as he was able, a charge with all' their
forces. Taking position upo' Ulysses' vessell, so that his
speech might bee heard as farre as th' tent of Telamonian
Ajax on th' one side, and to that of Achilles on the other,
Atrides incited them forth thro' a dread of shame should
they bee driven before Hector alone, praying that they
might escape (at least) with their lives. And Jove sent
his eagle with a fawne in th' talons as they were offering
sacrifice, and the fawn is caste downe to earth near the
beautifull altar. When they saw th' signe from Jove, they
rusht forth to battaile, but none went before Diomed.
After him came th' two sonnes of Atreus; next the two
Ajaces, clad in impiteous courage, then Idomeneus, and his
armour-bearer, Meriones, follow'd by Eurypylus; and the
ninth was Teucer.

Close upon Telamonian Ajax he prest, as child to its
mother, who shelter'd him behi'd that mighty shield.
And Teucer peer'd forth, as Ajax mov'd the shield unto
one side, and shooting his arrows swiftly, slew many of
the Trojans.

Agamemnon rejoyc'd seeing him, and stood by him to
incite him, making promise of rich reward when they
should have enter'd the captur'd citty. But Teucer bade
the general observe that hee needed no exhortation. In
fine, he would himselfe doe all that was within his power,
but as yet he could not hit the mighty chiefe at whom
he aym'd. Againe and againe he levell'd an arrow at
valiant Hector, but Apollo guarded the hero from all
hanne.

Teucer, however, slew Hector's mighty charioteer.
This so enrag'd the great Trojan that he seiz'd an heavy
stone and strooke the youth, so that he fell upon his knees.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILJAD. 289

Then Ajax held th' shield over him why 1st two strong
companions bore the suffering young warriour to one side,
groaning heavily. Then Jove rous'd the mightie Trojans
who drove backe th' Greekes to their defenses; and Hector
in the van lash'd his fierie steeds in pursuite, and slew great
numbers of those that were in the hindmost of th' rankes.
Juno, seeing their flight, prevayled upon Minerva (in
despight of Jove, his decree) to go out with her to the
succor of the Greekes. At this, Jove was angry with
Pallas more then with Juno, who, he said, sought ever a
meane to thwart the plans and purposes hee wished to
carry out. But he now prevented their interference, and
during the whole of the night Hector prevented surprises
through wise prevision. Youths and aged men were given
order keep watch in the towers, the matrons to have
mighty fires in their halls, and a strong guard set to watch
the secret entrances to the town ; but meantime a thousand
fires blazed around the citty, and fifty men at each fire sat
at watch.

IX.

Then old Nestor, wiselie counselling, bade Agamemnon
send Ulysses with Phrenix and Ajax to the tent of the hero
Achilles, if by any meanes they could prevayle on him to
come to their ayde, but 'twas of no availe.

Next Diomedes and subtile Ulysses slyly enter the
Trojan campe at night, having first entrapt and slaine
Dolon, who had set out as a spye to the Grecian campe.
From him they obtain'd the desirM infonnatio' that inabled
them to seeke out the tent of that Thracian king Rhesus,

290 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

and having slayne him (with many others) Ulysses loosed
th' solide hoov'd warlike steeds, and, lashing them with the
bowe, drove them away to the Greekes.

Then they resum'd th' conflicte. Atrides fought most
furiously, but Paris woundeth Diomed, and Socus doth
injure Ulysses. No sooner do Ajax and Menelaus observe
this, then they go to their ayde. Patroclus now seeketh
Nestor at his tent, and th' sire exhorteth him to goe to
the field in the armour of Achilles.

XII.

Ere long the Trojans assail the mighty gates and presse
toward the shippes, in disregard of Polydamas, who inter-
preted the omens as most unpropitious.

XIII.

Then Neptune engages on the Greecian side, and the
battaile proceeds hotly. Dei'phobus is repuls'd by Meri-
ones. Teucer slays Imbrius, while mighty Hector, smiting
Amphimacus, takes away his life, in turne.

Neptune assuming a likenesse to Thoas, exhorteth
Idome'eus, who proceedeth to the battaile with Meriones.
Idomeneus slays Othryoneus and then Asius. Seeing this,
Dei'phobus, ayming his speare at Idomeneus, slayeth him
not; however his speare falleth not idlie to ground, for
Hypsenor is slayne. Then Idomeneus doth subdue
Alcathoiis, over whose bo<ly a sharp contest doth take place.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 291

XIV.

Agamemnon and other wounded chiefes visiting the
battle now, the Earth-shaker, in the likeness of an aged man,
taking holde on the hand of Agamemnon, spake winged
words and greatly incited the courage of the souldiers.
With a bellowing roar, louder then anie ten thousand men,
hee hasted on.

Juno seing him was delighted, and prepared at once to
visit Jove on faire Ida. Bathing and perfuming her-
selfe soe sweetlie that the odor reached both earth and sky,
she array'd herselfe in a beautifull embroder'd robe with
golde claspes and a rich zone, from which an hundred
fringes depended, and, having smooth'd her gleaming haire
and disposed it well, she put on her trebble jewell'd eare-
rings, and, over all, a beautifull shining veyle. Going
forth from her chamber and finding Venus, she obtain'd
from her the cestus, which she wore seducing men or gods,
as no allurement was lacking. In it were desire, love-
converse, seductive speech able to steale away the minde
even of th' very prudent.

Then, descending Olympus, passing with all swiftnesse
ore mountain and sea, she came at length to farre-distant.
Lemnos and sought out Sleepe, the brother of Death. She
tooke fast hold upon his hand and begg'd that he would
now close in sleepe the eies of Jove, promising a golden
throne and footstoole if he grant her wish. But hee
declin'd, least Jove destroy him in his anger. Yet, when
Juno promis'd him the youngest of the Graces to wed
Pasithea hee could no longer Vithstand her. However,
he made her sweare by the water of Styx, wkh one hand
upon the earth and the other upon the sea, calling the

292 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Titans to witnesse her oath, that she would surely give him
one of the younger Graces Pasithea, his hart's desire.
Hast'ning to many-rill'd Ida, Juno placed her person con-
spicuously in Jove's sight, but Sleepe conceal'd himselfe.
Juno, faining to Jove (as she had to Venus), that she
sought to unite Oceanus and Tethys, inflam'd his desire to
keepe her near him, avowing, indeed, that none (be she
goddesse or woman) had awaken'd so much love in his
bosom, not even herself e at any former time, he pleaded;
she yeelded unto the embrace of Saturn's lordly sonne,
and hee shed a golden cloud round them, hiding them from
sight. Lucid drops were distill'd from the cloud, and the
divine earth produced hyacinth, lotus, sweet with dewe,
and crocus, thus forming a flow'rie couch, where the sire
quietly slumber'd with his spouse in his annes, subdued
by Sleepe and love. But Sleepe went in all swift haste to
the Greeks, where he found the powerfull Earth-shaker,
and led him on to incite the Greekes.

XV.

Jove waked to see th' Trojans driven before them and
was exceedingly angry. Calling Iris he sent her forth
to induce mighty Neptune to leave the field, and requested
divine Apollo that he would at once heale Hector.

Armed with the vEgis, Apollo doth put the Greekes com-
pleatly to rout and drive them to their shippes. These all
th' Trojan heroes thought to burn. Ajax (Telamon) kept
the fire backe and himselfe slew twelve of the Trojan
warriours.

* XVI.

Then valiant Patroclus obtain'd permission of Achilles
to don that hero's armour and lead forth the Myrmidons

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 293

to th' succour of the Greekes, upon the condition that he
should take heede of all danger and return as soone as
th' Trojans were driven hacke. This he fail'd to do, but
persew'd the fleeing foe to th' walls of Troy, eager to
slay Hector. Him, indeed, Apollo protected, but Sarpedon
was slaine, and also Hector's charioteer, Cebriones. He is
repelled by Apollo, wounded by Euphorbus, and put to
death by Hector, but not before he declares th' fate of
Hector. The latter mounteth Achilles' chariot, and fol-
loweth after Automedon to th' shippes of the Greekes.

XVII.

Menelaus then slayeth Euphorbus, who was attempting
to remove the armour of Patroclus. As Atrides doth stand
waighing- in his minde what he should doe, Hector's
approach frights Menelaus so that he doth goe in search of
Ajax. Then Hector doth take off the beautiful armes, but
as he is dragging the body away to sever the head from
the trunke, he seeth Ajax advancing, and in all haste
mounteth his charet, giving the armour to some of th'
Trojans to carry to Troy.

These two, Ajax and the sonne of Atreus, guarded the
fallen hero. As a lionesse, keeping watch ore her whelps
as the huntsmen draw nigh, doth goe round about the den,
soe Ajax, lowering th' shaggy browes, glaring savagely,
walked round him, th' whiles Menelaus stood beside him.
Then Glaucus reprov'd Hector in so sharpe a manner that
the great hero's heart rag'd, and he, returning, beginneth
the conflict anew over th' body of Patroclus, while Autome-
don doth furiously defend the chariot of Achilles. The
Greekes are beaten backe at length, and e'vn heroicke Ajax
doth shrinke backe, yet Meriones and brave, Menelaus bear
away the body of Patroclus.

294 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

XVIII.

Achilles gave waye to the most violent griefe, throw-
ing himselfe on the ground, weeping and soe sorelie lament-
ing that his agony touched Thetis' heart; and she came out
of the deepe to give him comfort, and with her came manie
sea-nymphs. . She promises him also she will procure forth-
with most beautifull armor, and for this purpose doth go
to Vulcan and heg that hee will prepare it at once.
Vulcan, consenting, maketh first a five-fold shield, with a
belt of silver.

On it were the earth, the heavens, the sea, th' unwearied
sunne, the moone, and the constellations which crowne the
heavens the Pleiades, the Hyades, the strength of Orion,
with the Beare (that is likewise denominated Wain) and
is the only constellation never wet in wave of the sea.

On it were two faire citties: in one marriage feasts,
dancing, sweete songs, musik and gladnesse; round the
other two armies sat at watch, at one and other side, besieg-
ing it.

There was a fallow field, and men with their ploughs;
and a waving cornfield, where reapers were thrusting in
their sharp reaping-hookes.

On it was a sunny vineyard with golden clusters of
grapes, where faire maidens, and joyous, skiping youths
gather 5 d the grapes, or danced to the musicke of the harpe.

On it was a heard of oxen driv'n forth to th' field, with

lions seizing the leader of the heard before the heards-
man's eies.

There was also upon th' shield a dance, such as Daedalus
devis'd for Ariadne, where youths and maides mingled in
a gracefull motion holding each the wrist of the other.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 295

And near the outmost edge he plac'd that mighty river,
Oceanus.

Then he made a corselet brighter then the sunne; also
a well-fitted helmet with golden crest; and greaves of the
tinne which may bee well hammer'd.

When all was finished, he plact the whole at Thetis'
feet, who, as a hawke doth sweep downe from the sky,
darted adowne from snowy Olympus bearing th' armour to
her sonne.

XIX.

Then all the rest of his troopes, dazled at sight thereof,
shrank oacke, affrighted. Achilles, on the contrarie,
rejoyced in soule. Shouting he went along the shre, and
straightway the wounded chieftaines Tydeus' sonne, with
Ulysses and Atrides gather to an assembly, at which
Atrides and Achilles are*reconcil'd, and the latter hasteth
forth to take vengeance for his friend, his death, in despight
of Xanthus' prediction regarding his fate.

XX.

Jove doth permit the gods againe to ingage in the con-
flict, and they range themselves on one or other side. Then
had Trojan ^Eneas, who engaged Achilles, fallen at the
hand of this hero save for th' watchfullnes of Neptune.
Hector also attacks him, in order that he may avenge his
brother Polydoru'.

XXI.

Him Apollo rescueth, but many are slaine by th'
fierce Greeke, who doth compell one part of the Tro-
jan armie to withdraw towards Troy, and doth force
a second part into the Xanthus. Here, in steed of

296 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

putting all to death, he saveth twelve youths to offer as
a sacrifice on the funerall pyle of his friend. Hee slayeth,
savagely, Lycaon, also Asteropseus, whilst loudly deriding
the rive' god as unable to defend his friends. This doth
so enrage the Kiver that he riseth up, and, menacing dread-
fuly, doth attempt to overwhelme Achilles; but mighty
Vulcan protecteth him and wardeth off the danger.

The gods standing by engage in single combat, greatly
delighting Jove. First Mars smote warlike Minerva with
his speare, hitting the ^Egis. Not even Jove's thunder-bolt
may subdue this, however, and soone Minerva prostrated
him with a monstrous stone. Falling, he cover'd seven
ackers, and he made a horrible crash. Then Minerva, exult-
ing, taunted him as he lay prone ; yet Venus, pitying him,
led him away, but with difficulty he collected his spirits.
White-arm'd Juno seeing them, incited Pallas to pursue
them. She therefore hasted after them and overthrowi'g
them, spake reproachfull words, wishing that all Trojan
allies were such as they, since Troy then might easily be
overcome. Juno smil'd at these words, but the Earth-
shaker spake to Apollo, reminding him of their unrequited
labour for the Trojans a long time before, and asking if
for this hee is a friend and ally of that treaty-breaking
people. However, he thought it not meet that they longe'
hold aloofe from combat, since all th' gods were ingag'd
there in an unpremeditated strife. Apollo answer'd, that
it was unwise for the immortalls to contend on the part of
creatures of mortall frame.

At this th' Farre-darter withdrew; but when Diana
his rustick sister seeing him, rebuk'd him, taunting him
as th' bearer of an idle bowe, he did answer not a word.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 297

At this the spouse of Jove, taking up the word, hurriedly
addrest her in great fury, ending by plucking Diana's bowe
from her shoulders and beating her (smiling meanwhile),
smiting her about the eares. As a dove affrighted flieth
from a hawke, so tim'rous Diana weeping fled, without
staying to gather up her dusty arrows.

Then Mercury, the messenger of Jove, addrest Latona,
saying he would not contend with a spouse of cloud-com-
peling sonne of lordly Saturn, because she would surelie
boast amongst the immortalls of victory. Thereupon
Latona took up the bow, gather'd up the scattered arrows,
and follow'd Diana to Olympus, where she had gone to
make complaint to Jove. Latona found her belov'd child
seated close beside Jove, who drew her nearer smilingly
while he sooth'd and comforted her, asking who had soe
distress'd her, but hearing that it was Juno, said not a
word.

Apollo then repairM to sacred Illium, for the walls were
to him a care, but all other gods ascended to Olympus.

Then Achilles pursued the Trojans with great slaughter;
and Priam, observing him from one of Troies high towers,
descended in all hast to give orders to throw wide the gates
to let the flying Trojans enfer, but bade them haste to
close them when the troopes had come in, lest Achilles,
following upon their heels, enter with them.

Cover'd with dust, thirstie, almost breathlesse, they
enter'd. Then had not Apollo mov'd Agenor, the sonne of
Antenor, to go against Achilles, the citty had fallen into
the hands of the sonnes of the Greekes. Guarding his
person with his mightie shield, he caste his speare, smiting
the greave upon one shin; but, not disabled, Achilles pur-
sued Agenor so hotly that Apollo must needs shelter him
with a mist, and remove him from danger. Then likening

298 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

himselfe to Agenor, he beguiled Achilles to followe, with
the hope of overpowering one soe mighty, (not discerning
that a god led him on) turning his steps ever to'ard River
Scamander.

XXII.

Meanwhiles, Hector remain' d without the walls, eager to
combat with Achilles. Priam, seeing the latter advance
shining like Orion's dog, that brilliant starre of autumn,
(bright indeed, but most balefull, for the violent heat that
commeth thereafter) addresseth his sonne, stretching forth
his feeble hands with piteous action, and tearing his hoarie
haire. Then Hecuba laid bare her brest that was a source
of food and rest in his infancy. But all availeth not
a whit.

Like a huge serpent that, fill'd with rage, awaiteth th'
coming of a man, coyling itselfe round and round, so
doughty Hector, filled with inexhaustible courage, leaning
that waightie shield against the projecting wall of th' tower,
mused in his soiile as hee awaited the approach of Pelides.
But when th' hero, shining like a blazing fire, or even as
the sunne, commeth on like th' Helmet-shaker, Mars, a
tremor seizeth him and he fleeth affrighted. Round and
round with swifte feete he doth fly, circling about Troy's
walls thrice, Achilles close following: a brave man is
leading th' race, a braver one followeth, since 'tis not a
victim that is sought, nor a hide of a bull, but for th' very
life (they run) of horse-breaking Hector. This the gods
note, as they begin the fourth time to encircle the citty,
and speake together * concerning the fate of Hector.
Finally, Jove throweth into his golden scales long sleepe,
to mark to which one it would fall, in one having plac'd
Achilles' fate of death, and Hector's in the other. As

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 299

Jupiter holdeth the scales up, poising them, Hector's fatall
day doth go swiftlie downe to Hades, and Phoebus Apollo
then leaveth him.

Minerva induceth Pelides to stand, in hope of bringing
about face to face contest. Likening herselfe to Dei'phobus
(a favourite brother) she cometh nigh unto Hector, and
perswadeth his minde to try his skill with the Grecian.
Thus deceived, and thinking that one brother had beene
brave enough to come to his ayde, Hector returneth, arous'd
to tie strife; yet attempting to make a compact with his
opposer, that, in the event of his fall, his armour onelie
should fall to Achilles, but that his body should bee kept
for ransom.

This eager Achilles loudlie derideth, asking if any league
would hold 'twixt men and lions, or according minde be
found 'twixt wolve' and lambes, and avowing that no treaty
of any sort could' hold 'twixt them. Then, brandishing,
he sent forth his long-shadow'd speare, but Hector, bend-
ing ove', doth avoide the blow. Quickly the goddesse,
bringing the weapon backe, placeth it in Pelides' hand.
Then Hector hurl'd forth that mighty long shadow'd speare,
smiting the center of that massy shield, nor miss'd it; but
rebounding, flew far off. Then Hector called to white-
shielded Dei'p'obus to bring him a long spear, but he was
not near him; and Hector perceaved in his minde that
Dei'phobus was not present as he supposed, and felt that
without doubt the Pates o' death awaited him. But hee
resolv'd to meet the end bravely.

Drawing his long sword that hung lowe at his flanke,
like a soaring eagle that doth sweepe downe upon a tender
lambe or tim'rous hare, so Hector rush'd on Achilles. But,
brandishing his speare and holding his wrought shield so

300 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

that 'twould warde a thrust, Achilles also went eagerly for-
ward. Like Hesperus the brazen tip of his speare did
glister, as he stoode eying Hector's faire person in order to
finde where best it would yeeld. Then was th' dreadfull
weapon hurl'd swiftly, and it lodg'd under the collar-bone,
where the necke and shoulder joyne, yet did not sever
the weasand; therefore, he could yet speake. Hee pray'd
Achilles that his body might not be fed to Grecian dogs;
that he would receive brasse and gold in ransom therefor,
father and mothe' alike would gladly furnish, in order that
the funerall obsequies might bee performed. But, nought
perswaded, Achilles avow'd that not ten or twentie times the
ransome he had in minde, not even gold should be accepted,
for nought could avert the destin'd ignomy and shame.
And Hector, sighing, said that knowing Achilles as he
did, he knew before he spake what fate was his. for th'
soule within the bosome of Achilles was iron; but hee
said: "ISTay, reflect lest the wrath o' th' gods fall on thee
for my sake on th' daye when Death's hand clutch thee,
when Paris and Phrebus Apollo shall strike thee downe."
"With words like these his soule descended to Hades,
but Achilles still addrest the lifelesse body, bidding him
dye, that hee fear'd not his fate at Jove's hands, or by the
will of other gods.

Then the rest of the Greekes approacht as Achilles
pluckt the bloodie armour from the brest, having drawne
forth the speare, and all admir'd the forme and stature of
Hector, yet none pass'd by without inflicting a wound.

Then Achilles spake to the Greekes, saying they now
might try the mind of Troy, since it was giv'n unto them
t' subdue mighty Hector, but nought should be done untill
Patroclus' funerall rites should be observ'd. Then splitr

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 301

ting each heel, he fasten'd leather thongs to them, by which
he bound him to the chariot in such a way that his head
trail'd along, and dust defil'd his glorious locks. Then
taking up the armour, he mounted his chariot and lash'd
his steeds on towards the shippes.

King Priam, seeing him, is undone, and Queene Hecuba
also lamenteth loud; but yet for a. time the wife of Hector
knew not what had occur'd, for no messenger had beene
sent to her. However, the sound of wailing did pierce her
eares, and her heart interprets aright the measure of woe
meted out to Illium. It is as if its summit, stooping to it&
fall, were wrapt in flame. But upon reaching the tower r
where the men stood crowded together, she saw Hector's
body being dragg'd in the dust towards the Grecian vessells,
and fell swouning, and darknesse veyled her frighten'd
eies; but reviving, she collected her soule, whilst 'midst
sobs she bewail'd Hector's fate and hers, and with bereaved
Andromache all the dames standing near wept and mourn'd.

XXIII.

Then Achilles is warn'd by the ghost of his deceas'd
friend to performe the funerall rites of Patroclus, and this
is done with many games (for valuable prizes).

XXIV.

Afterward, Jove biddeth Thetis go unto Achilles and
demand th' body of Hector, sending Hermes forth also
to conduct old Priam unto him to offer th' treasures he
collected. Priam's wife and belov'd sonnes plead with him
in vaine to restraine him, and, confiding in Jove's omen
th' eagle cald with them Percnos or Black Hunter he

302 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

went forth on that sad quest, but Mercury was a great
comforter, and upheld Priam's courage and strength.

When th' gates in th 7 bulwarkes behind the trench were
reached, Hermes put the men (who were th' guard) asleepe
as they were gone aside to feast, and unbolting the gates,
conducted the steeds and mules through the campe untill
they reach'd the lofty tent of Achilles, that the Myrmidons
rear'd for their king, loppi'g the fir timbers, and cov'ring it
with a thatch o' grasse mowne in the fragrant meades, and
fencing it with a great fence of staddles cut off and set
thickly. The gat was well sperr'd up with a single fir,
which three men onelie might shoot save Achilles. This
Mercury op'd for old Priam, bidding him enter and embrace
Achilles by the knees, and supplicate him by his father, his
faire-haired mother, also by his infant sonne, that he would
accepte the ransome for his sonne's body; but, reminding
him of th' impropriety of a god overtly ayding mortalls,
tooke his depart and returned to Olympus.

Priam then leapt downe from the chariot, leaving his
steeds, mules and chariot in Idseus' care, and entering the
tent unobserv'd as Achilles finisht his repast, clasped his
knees, and kissed those dreadfull man-slaught'ring hands;
and as a dread sense of guilt seizeth a man, who, murthering
a man, in his owne country, fleeth unto another, and
astonished spectators stand round, so Achilles wonder'd
(and they that stood by, looking one at other) seeing Priam.

He, however, spake quicklie and brought forth his
request, recalling to Achilles' minde his owne father of
the same hoary age, who awaited hopefully his living
sonne's returne, whilst he, once father of fifty brave sonnes,
had scene many kil'd by the Greekes; and now, Hector,
his best belov'd, who defended their citty and themselves,

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 808

was slaine by Achilles' hand, and he, his sire, had beene
forc'd to do what no mortal man might endure kisse the
hand that had bereav'd his life.

At these words, a desire to weepe seized Achilles, and as
one writh'd upon th' ground bemoaning his sonne's fate,
the other thought with regret of his distant father and
of his friend Patroclus. But after a time, Achilles, rising,
lifted up the old man, bidding him be seated (for he
respected his hoary haires) and he exhorted him to let
sorrow sink to rest in his minde, saying: "Chill grief e is
uselesse, for no mortall can escape wretchednesse, and none
save the gods are free from evill. Two caskes, the one
containing evills, the other good gifts, stand beside Jove's
threashold. From these hee sendeth forth mingled good
and ill. Man falleth now upon one, againe upon another;
sorrow, calamity, nimble mischance that hath soe swifte a
foot, pursue him, nor is he honoured of gods or men.
Peleus, indeed, receyv'd golden gifts riches and wealth,
yet an ill fate has fallen upon him in that he had one
only sonne, who, with slight care of his owne life, put it
in jeopardie dailie before Illion, in despite of the knowledge
of his short span, which even his goddesse mother might
not lengthen. Of thee, also, have wee heard that thy
wealth at a former time did exceed many, and that from
lower Phrygia to Hellespontus on the north thy borders
then reached; but now the gods have sent bane upon
thee, and warre and slaying of men do encompasse thy citty.
Yet arise (for thou canst by mourning and griefe availe
nought, nor restore him) ere further evills come upon
thee."

Priam indeed thought it not well that he should be
seated or give place untill Achilles had granted his prayer.

304 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

This provok'd a hasty reply, but at length the presents
were brought in, save two cloakes, a well woven tunicke
also, which were left to place on the body. Pelides bade
Idseus enter and be seated, but he kept the corpse from
aged Priam's sight, lest his mourning cries should so move
him that hee could not stay his hand, and, taking his life,
displease Jupiter; then, giving orders that th' female
attendants should wash and annoint th' body, waited with-
out, and, when this was accomplish'd, himselfe tooke it
up, put it upon the litter, and with his companion's helpe.
plac'd it on the beautifull chariot, at the same time making
a moan to Patroclus because of the deed.

Afterward he return' d into the tent, and seating himself
on a couch over against Priam, urg'd him to take food, since
his sonne was plac'd on a bier and he could return to Illium
on the morrow. He citeth to him Niobe's case, who
mourn'd the losse of twelve childre' destroy'd by Apollo'
and Diana because she compar'd herselfe unto th' faire
cheek'd Latona, who (she said) was the mother unto but
two, while she had borne many. Yet, although overcome
with griefe, Niobe was mindefull of food. "Let us like-
wise be now attentive to our repast, then shalt thou lament
this thy sonne, conveying him to Troy, and thou shalt
bewaile him with many teares."

So saying, they prepaid the repast quickly, drank wine
together amicably, ate of th' roasted fleash, et csetera. Then
Priam, opposite Pelides, much admir'd him, comparing him
to the gods; and Achilles in turne marvell'd at Dardanian
Priam, seeing his amiable expression and hearing him as
he convers'd. But when they had gaz'd untill they were
satisfied, the old man begg'd that Achilles would send him
to his rest.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 805

*
Achilles willingly granting him th' request, he and his

herald had conches prepaid for them upon th' porch,
while Pelides went to rest within the tent, and beside him
lay f aire Brisei's.

But Mercury slept not, for he was devising a meanes
to lead Priam away safely. Therefore he descended from
Olympus hastily, waken'd him, standing beside him, arous'd
Idaeus noiselessly and assisted him to yoke the steeds and
the mules, then went with them through the canape; nor
did hee leave them untill they reach'd the eddying Xanthus
begotten by undying Jove. Then he ascended Olympus,
and saffron-hued morn was diffused ore th' earth. Then
they drove the steeds toward the citty (and the mules bear-
ing the body), but none saw them save Cassandra, who
like unto golden Venus, ascended Pergamus, and looking
out acrosse the plaine, beheld them approaching, and soone
assembled the people; soe they met them near the gates
coming in with the body, nor was there a man nor woman
left in the citty, so generall was the mourning.

First came his wife and venerable mother, plucking out
their haire as they touch'd Hector's head, whilst all th'
spectators wept. They, indeed, all that day would have
mourn'd and shed tears, if aged Priam had not bade them
cease their cries, and give way unto th' chariot till he had
borne him home; then might they weepe untill they were
saciated with mourning. Therefore, they stoode afare off,
and, carrying him to th' illustrious pallace, they placed him
on th' ornamented bed; and plac'd singers beside it, leaders
of the dirge, who sang mourning ditties whilst the women
made responsive moanes. Among them his wife beganne
thus, while her hands held Hector's head:

306 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

f
"O husband, hast thou died young in yeares, whilst I

am left a widow in the pallace? And beside myself e, here
is thy infant sonne to whom I have given birth, ill-fated,
who, I doubt not, will nere attain to manhood's strength,
for ere that, our citty will topple to its compleat destruc-
tion. Certainely thou, who wert ever its defender, and
didst keepe from losse or injury its venerable wives and
infant children, art no more. They will be carried captive
to the shippes, nor shall I escape. But thou, O my sonne,
shalt perchance accompany me where thou must performe
unworthy tasks, toyling for a mercilesse lord; or else
some one of the Greekes (whose father, brother, or even
his sonne thy father may have slaine) may grasp with force
thy tender hand, that he may cast thee headlong from some
tower and dash thy life out. For true it is, thy father
many an acte like unto this hath here perform'd. He
never might be gentle to his foes, or leave an enemy to
go unpunish'd; but, by his hand, many a Greek hath beene
made to seize the earth with his set teeth. It is for this
the people so lament in every nooke and angle of th' cittie.
O Hector, thou hast caus'd untold calamity, and griefe
unutterable unto us all, most to thy loving parents and to
me. Bitter, aye, bitter is my endlesse griefe, for thou
didst not upon thy couch when dying, stretch out thy
hands to me, nor speake my name, or give me any word
of prudent counsell, to comfor' me long yeares to come."

Thus speaking, with floods of teares, Hector's fayre wife
lamented, and with her all the other women moaned.

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 307

(Note.) Andromache, in her prophetic soul, knew

her owne fate and doth foretell that of their child.
This is told in the ^Eneid, which I also translated, and
is most pathetick and tender. Ever mourning, the
childe in her heart, in her sad exile, keepeth pace
with other children, and when she wrapt that other
smiling babe within the cloake her loving hands had
wrought soe skilfully with threades of rich gold, she
said, "Astyanax would have beene like in age; his
hands, his haire, his smiling eies like thine." And
every mother, in all the centuries since that sad day,
doth sorrow with like paine from secret sympathie
that mothers knowe. The lines which containe this
mournefull story are thrice given in my workes. The
sublimity of love and sorrow such as hers is most
wonderfull, and is excell'd by nothing in our language
except the stories of sacred history. Even Hecuba's
lot was much lighter, for she died at th' hands of their
captors. But to returne.

Now cometh aged Hecuba in place, and thus doth make
her moane:

"O Hector, thou wert dearest of my sons, and truly of
the gods thou wert the care, not alone in thy life, but also
in this destiny of death. Eor all my other sonnes who
fell into Achilles' hands, were sold beyond the sea at
Lemnos, Samos, or at Imbrius; but thou, though he hath
tane thy precious life, and daily dragg'd thee round
Patroclus' tomb, liest within our palaces as fresh and beauti-
full of forme and every feature, as if Apollo, with his silver
bow, had reav'd thee but to-day of joyous life."

308 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Thus speaking, aged Hecuba did cease her vehement
laments, while all the women join'd in teares and moanes.

Helen came third^ weeping sad tears, heavy sighes
breaking the wordes, and said:

"O Hector, thou wert a beloved brother, as Alexander
th' god-like man is my husband. Kind hast thou and my
father ever beene (and here have I dwelt twenty yeares),.
but th' others altogether despise me, and there is none other
in th' breadth of Ulium who will be kind to mee. There-
fore I must mourne, not all alone for thee, but for my
unhappy selfe."

Ceasing to speake they mingled one long cry. Then
Priam bade them bring to Troy the wood for the funerall
pyle, assuring them that they had nought to feare untill"
twelve daies should have expired, for th' word of Achilles
was pledg'd that no ambuscade should lay in wait for th'
Trojans untill th' funerall rites were concluded.

Therefore, with both mules and oxen, for th' space-
of nine days did they bring the wood from the mount in
quantities. When, however, th' tenth morn brought light
unto mortalls, they carried forth noble Hector and placed'
him upon th' pyle, and applied fire* to th' wood.

But when rosy finger'd Morn appeared, they gather'd'
round th' pile of illustrious Hector; and whe' all had!
assembled together, they extinguish'd with darke wine all
the pile that the fire had, ravening, taken hold on; and;
the brothers and companions of Hector, with tearfull eies,,
gather'd together his white bones. These they plac'd in a
beautifull urn of gold, which they forthwith deposited in
a deepe grave, heaping on it numerous sharpe stones. This,
however, they did hastily, and kept constant and strict
watch, lest the Greekes should make an attack too soone..

ARGUMENT OF THE ILIAD. 309

But when they had heap'd up th' tomb properly;, they
assembled in Jove-nurtur'd Priam's lofty pallaces, and
feasted on a splendid banquet.

Thus were the solemn funerall rites of the great steede-
breaking Hector performed.

And this compleats Homer's Illiads, but the story of
some of the great heroes may be found in my workes, for
I wrote out, not only his Odysses in the great Cypher, but
th' ^Eneid of the noble Virgil. Thus can you peruse th'
conclusion, and followe the wily Grecian Ulysses, and th'
mighty sonne of lovely Venus that she bore to Anchyses
Trojan ^Eneas. The marginall notes of our work which
you now are using, hath an argument to my translation
of th' ^Eneid, while a Latine worke entituled De Augmentis
Scientiarum will give ayde upon th' other. As in this
work, you doubtlesse will note that favorit partes are
enlarg'd, yet as it lendeth assistance to th' discypherer, it
will not be any disadvantage or hindrance.

In confident hope, I have intrusted this labour to your
hands and am contente.

FRANCIS ST. ALBAN.

FKANCIS BACON.

DB AUGMENTIS.
1624.

Where, by a slighte alteration of the common Italicke
letters, the alphabets of a bi-literate Cyphar having the
two forms are readily obtain'd (instead o' letters that I
cut out because I f eare anie eye might reade what is hid
in Cyphar, had such as are scene heere beene employed
in an example) in every booke I send forth I use, for
complete yet somewhat scattered rules or directions for
another of different scope, this or other similar Cyphers,
choosing, you observe, one in which there can be trusted
any great state matter, and anything we holde of a nature
such that it requireth a wisdome greater, I doubte nought,
than wise King Salomon's to finde the purpose thereof,
I mean the historic of my birth, and also my brother's,
for I have written both in this secret storie.

We alwaies prize most a thing that hath longest evaded
our pursuite, for a man's nature ever hath some dregs of
wild waies in despight of ages of clarifying or racking.
There is somewhat of the hunter about all men: quietly
waiting untill th' game be scented, but rushing forth with
halloo more piercing then his home as hee joyneth the
chace. Thus pursute becometh universall : but should Art
teach my most constant and watchfull hunter to follow in
perfect silence, hee shall alone unkennell th' skulkinge
foxe, beare, triumphantly, the prize homewards, and enjoie
honours by no one shared. Mine may bee stil'd simila',

310

IN DB AUGMENTIS. 311

in fact, for th' honour of this methode us'd whenere
secret mater, of whatsoever kinde, is put forth, glorifying
for all futurity one that should finde this cannot crowne
any brow save mine.

So blind are men, that I tell heerewith a pretty tale,
as in the playes to my Margaret, write out historic, give
lines in all kinds of poetrie that I have in anie place found
easy or pleasant, in so plain sight, you, indeede, will find
light work divesting them o' manie disguises, but no eye
save our owne espyes a word or signe. Thus will you
doubt th' shrewdnesse they boast soe great, but can men
find what none looke for, or pursew a path not ent'red
upon, neither sought?

I masqued manie grave secrets in my poems which I
have publisht, now as Peele's or Spenser's, now as my
owne, then againe in th' name of authours, so cald, who
plac'd workes of mixt sort before a reading world, prose
and poetry. To Robt. Greene did I entruste most of that
work rather his name appear'd as authour: therein you
may finde a large portion that belonging truely to the
realme of poetrie, would wel grace verse, yet it did not
then seeme f aire matter for it. As plaies some parts were
againe used.

Pull off ev'n now th' outside, disguising my story. 1
am the rightfull heire to th' throne, since th' blood of
King Henry is running i' these veynes th' same as in
any Tudor. If the late Queene could claime th' throne,
I, her earliest flower of royall issue, was by th' like right
it goes without saying at any and all times heir-
aparent to proud England's wide realm.

312 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

But the day of justice having gone, past long since all
hope of my atchieving glory or fame, as the ruler of th'
realme of England, Ireland, Wales, France, as formerly
one portio' of the later was ours also our colonies in all
th' regions of the globe, fro' remote East to a remoter
West. Never shall th' crowne rest on Prince Fran-
cis' loftie brow; never shall th' great throne of this
land bear up the sonne to the so-stiled Virgin Queen,
wedde' wife of Robt, Earl of Leicester! Can these
things be and not incite in one's heart a wish of shewing
the truth to future generatio's? Can one of such a noble
nature bee contente to bee but a common subject, who,
knowing that by th' virtue of kingly birth, royall power
should come, doth feele assur'd that hee hath noe lacke in
th' parts and endowme'ts all that hold regall swaie doe
require? and who having within such impulses of th' god-
like patriarchal care for his owne people would willinglie
give his time, his mony, labour, or all a Prince's power at
anie time gone by, that yet shall be, or is, may, or may
have performed for his subjects?

For this reaso' do I labour for" men's elevation and
holde communion with Science. As knowledge doth in-
crease, th' pleasure I take is greatlie increas'd also, and I
see here before mee a boundlesse province over which our
raign may neve' cease. Th' secret story heere told doth
fully set our wrongs before future reader' : unto such do
wee turne for judgement.

This work, however, was intended for ayde upo'
another Cyphar, and next we will give keyes after we
write out the argument o' th' work. This is Homer's verse
also, and doth take rank with his Eliads. The title is:

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 313

THE ODYSSES.

The opening scene is laid in an ile where dwelt the
fayre young sprite th' nymphe, Calypso. Th' ile farr-
distant from men or gods was lovelie, indeed, and yet quite
solitary. It can bee well scene, therefore, without ex-
plaineing, faire, sweete Calypso wish'd to caste a spell over
th' guest, whose ship was wrecked, soe that he must needes
remaine.

Seven yeares he was thus restrained, whilst hee daily
longed to sayle awaie from fayrest land of Ogygia to that
farre-away rugged Ithica where his wife, awaiting his
returne, shed many a teare. However th' faire nymphe
entertain'd him with so much kindnesse (and having be-
come the mother of two sonnes, earnestly besought the
wanderer nere to depart,) to leave would have beene a
cruell action; and indeed love so mastereth her after
Odysseus findes meanes once againe of going to sea, having
ayded him as Mercuric gave orde', nor day nor night
bringeth surcease and end to sorrowe. Griefe doth final-
lie drive Atlas' daughte' to throw away her life, for she
plung'd into the ocean and was drown'd.

II.

In th' lie o' Ithica the principall men, seeing the
vast throng of suters urging upon Penelope, the prudent
and faithfull spouse this wanderer soe long'd to reach,
(even as is seen, choosing her before hope of immortality,
which Calypso promis'd him if onely he would remaine
in Ogygya,) holde a councill. By th' advice of th' gods,

314 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

and by their instruction a plann is made to fit out the
vessel! of Telemachus and send him forth to bring home
this lost sire and husband.

Minerva accompanies him in guise of Mentor as guide
and protecto', and first they saile unto sandy Pylos to get
advice, as th' sage who reigned over that wide land, aged
Nestor, had great wisdome.

III.

Here hee is told to go to the magnanimou' king o'
Sparta, Menelaus.

IV.

Of him not meerelie are they receiv'd most hos-
pitably, having beene made favour'd guests at his mag-
nificent pallace, Telemachus, forsooth, receiving much
kindnesse from fayre Helen, being th' sonne to the wilyest
man that follow'd her into Phrygia to avenge her rape,
in truth they are informed also of his sire's shippewracke
on Orgygia, of th' waye in which Atlas' winsome daughter
had soe long prevented any efforts to escape.

Odysseus had now finisht th' vessell, with faire Calyp-
so's assistance, furnish'd it well, donn'd a choice robe
presented by her, bade the nymph farewell and set out
on th' voyage. During seventeene days fayre weather and
a favouring saili'g breeze prevayled, but on th' next it
became tempestuous and his vessell soone began to sinke.
Throwi'g offe the clinging garment he cast himselfe into
th' sea, and preserv'd from death by th' care of Pallas,
finds land on the Phseacian shores.

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 315

VI.

Here being found then by Nausicaa, th' kinges daugh-
ter, as he doth lie wrapt in soothing sleepe,

VII.

He is led to th' court, cloth'd and rendered fit to take
part as beseemeth his position, and hospitablie entertained
by her father.

VIII.

At a festive gath'ring, as the costlie meats and
wines are plac'd before them, Odysseus doth give an
acompt of those wanderings since the fall of Troie, re-
counti'g all his narrow escapes from manie a difficile
situation.

IX.

Therein spake he of those disastrous chances, by
which he nearly lost his life; told his experience among
th' Lotu'-eaters, how the sailors long'd to remaine in th'
land where it seemeth ever an afternoon.

Alcinous, much interessed in th' recitall, bade Odysseus
dilate the storie, and he ran it thorowe even to that
momente as he sat at meat. He told th' storie of further
adventures a stay on th' He of Goats; sailing on to finde
th' Cyclops, having twelve of his men with him, our trav-
eller enco'nt'red Polyphemus, in his cave, where six of his
sturdy followers were eaten even while th' hero stood
there, nor could hee and th' others have escapt a like fate
had not Odyseus made th' great monsterr intoxicated with
Grecian wine. Without delay Odysseus burned out the
giant's eye which occupied th' middle of his face, for he
had but a single optick. Retider'd helpeles thereby Poly-
phemus could not staye their departure.

316 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

They then ster'd westwards, coming first to th' Isle
of ^Eolus. The wind-god gave them the windes in
a bag, hence th' wand'rings might have come to a
close, had not th' inquisitive sailours open'd the bag and
allow'd severall to escape. Having but a single wind
remaineing and that being westerly, they were swept f arre
awaie towards the setting sunne. They sawe Canibals
which eate each other, call'd th' Antropophagi, or Lsestry-
gones, and men whose heads grow beneath their shoulders.

At length comming to the iland of Circe, th' en-
cha'tresse, they are detained a yeare, as th' spells Circe
threwe over the men chang'd them to swine, but by th'
use of Moly, an herb that Mercury furnisht him, they
were at once restor'd to their naturall forme. Circe, how-
ever, even though shee long'd to keepe Odysseus by her,
assisted in manie ways when he set out againe.

XI.

Soone they came to the Oceanus, swift flowinge;
visited the Cimmerii that dwell in pitchy night nor ere
behold th' day. Thence he went into the nether-world
and inquired of the seer, Teiresias, how hee might reach
his f arre-away native countrie, Ithica. The seer tells him
Jove's wrath doth burne strongly against our bold wan-
derer because of his injury to the gigantic Polyphemus,
as he was sonne to one of th' gods, Poseido'. When this
was said it made the blood in his vaines flow icylie, yet
the seer told him whither he must saile, in orde' that he
might reach his home.

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 317

XII.

Upon his waye backe acrosse th' westerne sea, he
againe visited Circe who furder asisted him, gave him
advice, counseling him well regarding dangers he would
meete. Passing th' place in which th' Sirens make their
sweetest melodie (that they may cause th' destruction of
the passers by, luringe them from a safe channell so that
their vessell splits on a sunken rock ere one can see dan-
ger) he ordered his companio's to binde him fast to th'
mast, so that hearing the musicke and feeling its charme,
he could not if he desir'd, follow them. The sailors heard
not one sound, as Odysseus had giv'n them a charge, ere
reachi'g the spot, all eares should now be made deafe to
these songs by being well filled.

So one dread peril is passed; then those more awefull
dangers, Charybdis on one side and Scilla on th' other,
threat them. Six of the sailors, dashed on th' sharp rocks,
were kill'd, while all narrowlie e^capt the Maelstrom that
doth sucke shippes downe to the lower world.

Yet, clearing these, they once more set their course to
go to farr-off Ithica, coming nexte to Thrinatia, an island
in the western sea in which Helios, th' sun-god, kept the
famous cattell. Having in remembrance his instructio's
that Teiresias had particularly impress'd on him, Odysseus
attempted to passe by with speede and avoide the tempt-
ing creatures, yet everie sailor was fuly determined to
land; so whilst Odysseus was unmindfull of his men, or
this purpose, as he lay lock'd i' the armes o' Sleep, they
hastily killed these cattell or a number of the'. Because
of it Zeus, angrie and revengefull, sent his dreaded thun-
der-bolt and wrecked the vessell killing all save Odyseus,"

318

BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

preserving him because of his promise to Pallas Athene of
his safe arrivall in Ithica.

Hee also relateth to Alcinous that known alreadie to
the reader th' stay at Ogygia, and Atlas' daughter's offer
of immortality; how no bliss could bee like his, could hee
see his native land, th' wife of his bosome, Telemachus, his

dear sonne, and his olde servants.
' i

XIII.

This moveth King Alcinous to give him a shippe
and send him forth on the homeward voyage. This,
then, was straightway accomplished King, Queene, as
well as gentle young princesse gave him manie rich robes
and ornaments, costly articles of all kinds fit for th' ran-
some of a great king, to carry to Ithaca that his travaile
and toyles be rewarded.

Sailing with an auspiciou' gale th' voyage was briefe
and very soone th' harbour close by commeth to viewe.
At dawne they enter to sounds that the joyous waves when
driv'n by merry gales ever do make, yet not a note may
reach an eare which is seeled by Sleepe; the wand'rer lieth
lockt in th' djeamelesse slumber of th' dead, and they put
into th' haven of Phorcys where their vessell lieth at rest
without anchor or stay of any kinde, while he is yet under
th' spell, and th' Phaeacian sailors taking him up verie
gently conveye both him and th' vast treasures to shore.

Eowing thither and returning softly, they disembark
the stores given him by Alcinou', Arete, or Nausicaa, and
leaving him by the shore with soft sleepe on the senses,

th' treasure heapt at his side, they proceed at once to

returne unto their owne land.

When th' sleeper waketh he doth still think that it is

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 319

a place not familiar, since he cannot at present discern
th' port, Minerva having caste a mistie cloud upon every-
thing, to keepe his presence secret; but after a short
periode, shee, comming unto him and dispelling th' mists
sheweth him th' olive-trees, that cave of th' nymphs on th'
slope of th' hil, and the nimphes weaving their beauteous
robes of purple hue, also loftie olde Neritos with his bosky
sides above this.

He recogniz'd his beloved' Ithaca then, and sta'ding
near, th' goddesse spake thus unto him: "Thou art re-
turned to Ithaca because I, Mine'va, ever watchfull guided
thy waye, guarding thy life where ever thou wert lest
thy eager enemie slaye thee. Therefore wait with a
patiente spirit and beare all th' evill that shall come to
thee, for the day of the great vengeance is at hand."

The goddesse ayding, hastilie they now co'ceal'd the
gifts o' Alcinous, Arete and fairest Nausicaa, in th' cave
fast by a streame of liying water flowing into th' sea.
Palla' then touch'd Odysseus with the wande she carried,
soe that old age possess'd his form, making the limbes
stiff and bent, whilst his face lookes old and wither'd and
the abundant faire hair hardly can reach to his shoulders,
and sparselie doth shewe. Then Athene caste a begger's
wallet on his bended backe, shewed a well marked path
leading up to th' dwelling of Eumseus, th' swineherd, and
bade th' traveler proceed to that place.

XIV.

Obedient to this mandate Odysseus approacht th'
house. As he ent'red the courtyard, dogs bark'd with
soe much furie the swineheard went to see what caus'd the
confusion, then catching sight sodainelie of th' wanderer,

320 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

quicklie he doth bring him in, biddeth him such welcome
as th' house afforded spreading a skin for a couch, saying
as wine is drunke:

"Though I dwell still in this happie country it is not
now like daies gone by, for now th' young chiefes govern,
and th' friend whose love guarded us doth still staye away
from his native land. Th' wife wasting her faire beautie
in grief e doth looke for his returne, watching whilst others
feast and sleepe, yet for my owne part I fear that he will
fail to reach th' countrie of his nativity."

Then th' stranger inquir'd what name bore a wanderer
soe lov'd. Assuring th' faithfull old servitor that Odys-
seus was yet alive, but fearing at present to make himself e
suspected hee narrateth instead, some advent'rous wan-
d'rings claiming to have had thereby knowledge of th'
long absente Odysseus, saying his vast wealth of treasures
was at that very time to be seene in Thesprotia, for th'
king of that land had shewn hini th' same and told him
it was the treasure of th' wand'ring king o' Ithaca.

He moreover is ready to take oth that a yeares course
of th' sunne will not bee ended ere Odysseus come home ;
but faithfull old Eumseus cannot have faith in his prom-
ises, since an .^Eolian had told once before of something
similar, saying hee, himselfe, at distant He of Crete had
come upon th' Ithacan as he prepar'd to go out to sea,
with Idomeneus' help maki'g whole th' vessels broken by
storm and tempest, and quite assur'd that he would gain
Ithaca ere summer waned. But he came not, and
Eumseus for his owne part wish'd all Hellen's kinne were
no more, ere Odysseus spent his fortune, or gave soe much
strength, soe many yeares of his young manhood, to
avenge th' insulte.

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 321

XV.

Meanwhile Pallas Athense doth appear to Telemachus
in Sparta, as hee lieth sleeplesse on his ivory couch.
A glist'ning light fill'd his whole room, and Pallas
said to him that he must returne to Ithaca, for th' daye of
th' great vengeance was very near, 'gainst th' suitors for
despoyling faire Ithaca in th' long absence of Odysseus,
nor need he fear them, altho' their heralds lying in ambush
awaited his ship's appearance to take his life, for th' gods
were watching and guarding the sonne to Odysseus; no
harm should befall. Shee also bade him go to Eumaeus'
dwelling where he would be tolde what he should do.

Acordingly, on the morrowe hee bids Menelaus and
sweete Helen farewell and the Queene presenteth a robe
her owne hands had wrought to give his bride on the day
that his nuptialls bee celebrated, asking him in return to
have [her] in his kind remembrance.

From Sparta he once more went in to sandie Pylos and
told Nestor and others what he would do. A soothesayer
(who having slayne some person was now dreading pur-
suit) named Theoclymenus beggeth Telemachus to have
sufficient kindnesse to take him upon this voyage to Ithaca.

Setting saile, the shores of his native land were in due
time to bee discern'd ; at last they are gained and sending
all of th' company to the city he alone hasten'd quickly to
find olde Eumaeus, th' herd.

XVI.

Great was the joye of Eumseus beholding him for,
noe tidings having come from him, Eumseus had no
hope of seeing him againe. Inquiring immediatelie of his
friend if suters are yet crowding upon th' land and maki'g

322 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

themselves lords of all, "or hath my mother, accepting
one in marriage, left Ulysses' bridall bed to become th'
possession of cobwebs, for lacke of other or proper fur-
niture?"

But his kind friend eas'd his heart by telling him that
th' host of sutors were yet kept at bay, noble Penelope
being consta't in her hope that waiting would bee re-
warded by fruition o' this love. After a time, when Tele-
machus perceiveth a stranger there, he maketh inquiry
concerning his designes and porte, saying that hee feareth
to allowe him to visit his father's palace, th' sutors having
much power now, might treat him ill. Whereupon Odys-
seus, vexed, doth himself e put in a word and say:

"Ah, these suitors, why do we heare of them no matter
where we go? Do ye yield to them willinglie or do th'
people hate thee, O Telemachus, or hast thou a quarrel
with thy kinsmen, that thou hast thus suffer' d them to
overrun this whole country?"

But Telemachus hasten'd to answere : "I have no feud
with my kindred, nor doe I of my owne free will yield to
th' usurping crowd, but they have swarm'd in upon us
like bees; and what would you? one can scarce prevaile
against soe manie."

As soone as Eumseus was gone upon a commission to
th' city, Odysseus saw a very bright figure standing before
him and recognized the goddesse. She bade him prepare
for his great vengeance, to make himself known to Tele-
' machus, and proceede to his palace. Then she passed
over him a wande which changed Ulysses' figure to beau-
tiful proportiones, and gave his cheekes the rosy hue they
had had in youth, while over th' rich garments hung his
long lockes yellow as gold.

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 323

Telemachus, much surprised, asked Ulysses: "Who is
this standing here looking like to one of the bright gods?"
Then Ulysses embract his dear sonne and wept asseverating
that he was, verilie, Ulysses.

But Telemachus could not yet trust these happy words
and doubting said: "But men pass not thus from age to
youth, from weaknesse, from want, povertie or squalor, to
riches and strength." Ulysses made othe that it was Tele-
machus' sire, affirming, "If I indeed be not Ulysses, none
other will ever come to the coast of Ithaca."

ISToe longer might Telemachus doubt. Embracing his
sire he lifted his voyce and together they lamented like
birds from which th' young have beene stolen, even like
vultures or eagles, and Ulysses asked: "How many are
these suitors of whom all speake?" And Telemachus
made answer: "They may be recko'd by scores and what
could two doe against such a number?" "If Jove and
mighty Minerva lende us ayde it is sufficient," said Ulys-
ses, "and better to dye fighting for our right than to yield
weaklie."

Th' sutors in th' meantime, who had waited in ambush
to slay the prince on his homeward waye, much vex'd
about the failure of all their subtile designes, return'd to
Ithaca. Penelope thereupon reproved Antinous who was
one of th' number.

Eumseus came to report his experiences at evening,
but th' stranger was againe in th' guise of a wand'ring
beggar.

XVII.

When morn came againe, Telemachus went to the
home of Odysseus and shortlie after he set out, his sire
intreated Eumseus to permit him (Odysseus) to accom-

324 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

pany him there. On th' waye, as they rest by the side
of a fountaine, a goatheard, hight Melanthius, revil'd
Odysseus soe much that with utmost difficulty he staled
his hand.

Thfcn they pass'd onward to th' citty and as they came
to the pallace gate an aged hound rose to greete Ulysses
Kut falling back expired.

Then Odysseus wept saying: "Was this a comely hound
when young, swift and strong?"

"Like th' wind for speed and nothing ever escap'd him
in th' chase" said Eumaeus.

Upon entering the vast hall Odysseus soliciting an alms
of Antinous entreatingly said: "Thou dost have the ap-
pearance of gen'rous royalty. Give, and thou shalt winne
great fame, for Jove shall surelie rewarde thee and I shall
speake of thy bounty both near and far." Then he said
he also had great abunda'ce untill Jove tooke away his
wealth and drove him to ^Egypt and to Cyprus where hee
suffer'd ills noe tongue might tel. But Antinous strucke
him on the backe saying: "Verily thou mayst go to a
Cyprus or to an ^Egypt thou likest not if thou haste not
to depart."

But th' rest who stoode looking on prayed him to
beware, reminding him that immortall gods wander ofte i'
lowly guise. Afterward fh' suitors go into th' hall and
Odysseus dropping his walle' beside him sate in th' doore-
waye.

XVIII.

Ere long a publike beggar, named by th' suters Irus,
since he was ofte a messenger emploied by them, commeth,
and standing to begg, joyes to see Odysseus in a like or
worse condition, for miserie wisheth all may share its

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 325

wronges; and after a little time hee is ill-pleas'd that
another hath sought bounty at th' pallace. Soone they are
bandying wordes, nexte giving challenge, then Irus lieth
prostrate, felled by one forcefull blow that broke the
jawebone.

Then are the on-lookeres dismaied least much worse ills
lurke behind, for Ulysses then in a loud voyce addressing
Amphinomus saith: "Soone the great vengeance must
suddenly come and low in th' dust thou shalt be laid by
th' hand of mightie Ulysses, when he comming backe to
his owne kingdome endeth Jove's impos'd punishment,
slayeth the greedie chieftains that devoure his substance,
striving together for th' faire wife, that having but her
serva'ts as guides or protecting guard, suffer'd much by
such actions."

But Eurymachus hearing these words, anger'd and
insulted, caste a stoole that overthrew the cup-beare'.
Confusion everywhere ran riot and at last they withdrewe
one by one to the dwellings.

XIX.

Onelie the servants, th' attendants of his pallace are
left and soone Ulysses, plotting destruction of th' multitude
of wrong-doing idle suitors, alone, broods in sadnesse.
Then commeth Telemachus to aide, Pallas also beeing
with him, and together gath'ring up th' armes of th'
sutors, Pallas with a light preceding as a guide, they stor'd
them in th' innermost chamber.

As Telemachus sawe th' gleaming pillars he said: "My
father, surelie one of th' divine gods hath enter'd with us.
Beholde th' bright fir-tree columnes, they burne as with
flame, on all sides pillers shine as though blazing with

326 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

celestiall glory. Truly wonders here shew on everie
hand." But rest is necessarie now and Telemachus is
bidden to seeke his nightes repose.

Soone Odysseus returneth in silence to th' hall, yet
meditati'g th' vengeance he would take upon these suters
untill late. Penelope then apeareth, seeming as Venus
or Diana in th' fairenesse and beautie of moulde and th'
grace of movement. Shee seateth herself e beside the fire,
bids th' servant bring Odysseus to sit on one side, inquir-
ing whence he is, also who, yet he tells her not. With
ease hee doth narrate a tale that is not a true historic of
his wanderings, since he feareth he may bee betray'd;
shee in her simple heart believeth it, and telleth how her
beauty was wasted in heavy griefe for Ulysses, as he sail'd
away to Illium to avenge fayre Helen's wicked, shame-
lesse act; she tells him how th' suitors harass'd her, and
of her shrewde device in order to gain a little time, saying
to them shee must first compleate for Laertes the woven
mantle she had yet to prepare 'gainst his buriall, how at
eve ravelling out all she had done in th' daie, th' suters
were made to thinke her labor would soone be done, for
seeing her diligence in th' daytime, noe one suppos'd she
was making no progres. For more then three whole
yeares did this ruse availe, but in th' fourth th' suters
learned of her deceit and angrily demanded immediate
response.

But though inquiring oft of his former surroundings,
his birth etcsetera, nothing induc'd him to open his storie
to her, but he feign'd to her constantlie. After long
speeche sitting there by th' cheerfull fire, Penelope sum-
mon'd th' friendlie old servante, Euryclea, to wash his
feete. It was the nurse Odysseus had in his infancy, and

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 327

hee doth attempte to turne from th' fire lest she might
see the scar that was made by the boar's tuske when he
hunted on Parnassus in his early youth. She would verily
discover anie marke and tell th' household, so when she
speaks saying she knowes 'tis Odysseus, her child, for hee
is so like him in his strong handes and feete, his answer
is that frequentlie th' peculia' likenesse had beene noted;
but when, discovering th' scar, she exclaimeth that she
doth well knowe th' wound made by the boar's tuske, for
notwithstanding it was throughlie heal'd by Autolycus it
left a scarre, Odysseus in alarm catching her by the throat
shouteth angrily: "Silence, woman, or thou too must
fare ill. Commit this to the gods." But this came not
to Penelope's eares, th' goddesse, Minerva, having turn'd
away her face.

Then the nurse in haste brought more water and bathed
him, for the other had beene spilt, when, sitting opposite
Penelope by th' fireside, the conversation on her favourite
or sole theme was taken up againe, yet Odysseus taketh
holde o' th' olde rags and keepeth his scarre cover'd from
sight.

XX.

After a time no sound is heard throughout Ulysses'
palace. Pallas appeareth to shewe him what he should
do, strength'ning th' heart in his breast by her wordes.
At first it doth seeme that it were fitting that he slay th'
unfaithfull female servants, most bitterly feeling a want
of trust in his household, but on furder consideration he
doth think well to wait.

At their feast later the suitors put a deal of man on
his sonne, arousing soe mightily his great spiritt that
Theoclymenus prophesieth their sudden destruction. They

328 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

turne th' prophecie to foolish mockery, and laugh th' seer
to scorne.

XXI.

Penelope coming unto the suitors, declareth no man
can have her to wife that cannot draw th' mighty bowe
of Odysseus. "Hee that is strong like to Ulyses shall lead
me away to a new home, yet of this shall a dream abide
still."

Great is their consternation. Antinous wil not handle
the weapon, fully co'vinc'd hee hath not abilitie to draw
or even, verilie, bend slightlie th' bowe of Odysseus; but
Eurymachus doth take holde on it, and warm it, attempt-
ing to make it to some degree pliant, and saith: "Not
that I greatly desire to marrie Ulysses' wife, for many
others are fairer in Achaia; not Ithaca onelie but manie
a citty hath fairer dames. It is not that, yet should I
sorrowe, for 'twould be disgrace to us if posterity should
hear that we could not even bend th' bowe of great
Ulyses."

Antinous doth persuade his minde so that hee, desist-
ing, laies th' bow aside. Then they pour out wine offering
a libation that Apollo, appeased, should lende his aide.
Then the old stranger cometh as if it would be possible,
by any meanes, in his age to compete with such men, but
Antinous, scornfullie doth withhold the bowe taunting
him with ill-grace. However his winged wordes are cut
short by Penelope, and reproving him for his discourtesy
to their guest shee saith to him: "Doe not fear least th'
stranger, if successefull, should lead me awaie, for if he
can drawe the strong bowe, a new coat or tunick shall be
awarded him."

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 329

But at this her sonne, Telemachus, maketh reply:
" 'Twere well if it be left for mee to make proofe, as
might appear to mee best, of all that wish, or that I
deem worthie of th' honour of contending." Thereupon
the strife was subdued for a little while and Ulysses said:
' % Ye may very well leave it unto the gods."

Meantime he had reveal'd hi'selfe to th' oxheard,
Philsetius. With manie tears he had given a pledge to
aide Odysseus, the swineheard seconding him, consequent-
lie it was arrang'd to have Eumseus carry the weapon to
Ulysses and place it in his aged and weakly hand.

As the bowe was handed to him, he first adjusted the
string as lightly and deftly as a musitian doth tune his
slacken'd harpe, and, lifting it, sped a shaft through th'
ring.

XXII.

Soone th' arrowe was aimed toward Antinous the
young chieftaine lay prone. Another and anothe' were
sent swiftlie forth, and the wounded, dead or dying lay
in heapes, and gore ran in rivers on th' floore. A with-
drawal was impossibl' because order to bar the entrance
was given, before th' deadly strife, which Euryclea had
done, th' gate being bound up with tackle.

Ulysses havi'g exhausted his quiver, plact a helmet
upon his bare head, snatch'd shield and speare, and stood
forth a bold hero to menace th' throng. But he sawe
that opposite him were arrai'd sev'ral of th' sutors arm'd
with shields, spears, terrorising helmets with long noddi'g
plumes, and whatever appertaineth to a warriour. As
they continuallie presse furde' forwards, Ulysses noteth
that they get th' armes from some of Odysseus' proper
household.

330 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Caling Telemachus he maketh inquirie regarding it.
The latter, fearing it may be by his owne fault, in leaving
ajar a door to the inner roome where the sutors' armes
were concealed, doth waite untill he seeth Melanthius
supply others with shining speares, and helmets with nod-
ding plumes. Then he fals on th' knave, and with th'
ayde of Eumseus, hoisteth him on high and biddeth him
keep watch from that airie hammocke.

Then Pallas came to them in the guise of wise Mentor,
and both Ulysses and the sutors hoped for ayde, the latter
saying to him that hee should aby it dear if he did not
joyne them. Ulysses hoping it was to be shewne that he
was assisted by the heavenly divinities, and also that this
would prove to be Minerva, felt his heart throb gladly,
but the voyce said in stern tones: "Odysseus, where is
now thy strength, as when at wide-way'd Troy thou didst
hew down soe many Trojans? and it was by thy wisdome
that th' cittie was overthrowne. Rise now in thy might
and shewe an invincible spirit."

Without giving assistance either to one or the other,
Minerva rose to th' roofe, and sitting high in aire watcht
th' progresse of the conflicte, sometimes however guiding
th' weapons lest they might too sorely buffet Odysseus or
his friends. But when th' combat had lasted some time,
Telemachus being wounded in th' wrist and Eumseus in
the shoulder, she lifted her ^Egide shield, and the suitors
in dismay were sodainelie vanquisht.

Next Odysseus, sending messages to manie parts of
the pallace, gave strict command that the slaine bee
remov'd, th' whole place cleans'd and purged, and th'
unchaste servants of his household imprisoned where
none could attempte reskewe.

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 381

Hastily obeying these commands, his servants soone
made all most faire, for Ulysses' returne rejoyc'd th'
faithfull attendants of Penelope. Not yet did shee her-
self e even know of Ulysses' presence; however Euryclea
shortlie went to tell her the glad tidings, for Minerva
would that she be kept secluded untill all was prepared.

XXIII.

After she had ent'red, for a long time she kept silence,
in her hart doubting that this stranger who had perform'd
these wonderfull deedes might be some other then her
long-absente, well-beloved lord. But when she gave
directio's for the preparation at once of the bridal couch,
saying: 'TLet it be plact outside th' chamber," and
Odysseus spake in quick tones making inquiry: "Where
then have you plact the bed my hands did fashion, when
round the venerable tree in this court o' my pallace I
contriv'd our curiously wrought bridall chamber? There
I put th' massive couch, so heavy with gold and silver,
fayre ivory as well, 'twere a sinew'd man could lifte
from its place a bed like that, and over it I cast a
purple bul's-hide very richly dyed," she knewe it was
indeed Odysseus and running up fell on his necke.

Soone hee related the story of his reall adventures and
felt a new thankfulnes for th' help vouchsaf'd to him,
but realized that no true abiding place was there for his
feete.

On the following day Ulysses with Telemachus,
Eumaeus and Philsetus armed in shining brasse set out
to visit Laertes. It was already light ere they could go
forth, but Minerva cover'd them from sight with a misty
cloud.

332 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

XXIV. ,

Th' last booke containeth an account of Mercury's
descent into Hades with th' soules of th' slaughtered
suitors.

Thereafter an uprising amongst th' friends of th' latter
made an insurrection, which was quell'd by the inter-
ventio', at th' decisive momente, of watchfull Minerva.
Eupeithes who was their leader being slaine, she warned
Ulysses, lest he anger Jove, it would be well to cease,
and gave the pledge or othe upon both sides, likened in
form and in voyce, as at a former time, to Mentor.

This doth conclude this part of the worke.

Next th' opening lines will bee found, and keiewords
which are your aides in joining th' parts of our Epick.

The verses followe here:

"Sing, sing to me O Muse, of one to whom

Some rare expedient was never wanting,

Who, when proud Ilium he had orethrowne,

Wander'd afarre that he in many lands

Might see faire citties and observe the wayes

Of distant countries: yet to him there came

Much heavie suffering in that strong minde

Devising meanes himselfe and mates to save.

Infatuate men! little indeed wot they,

Ere Helios' fair herde was rashlie slaughter'd,

No man could shield e them, nor would ere again

Return to their faire land bring joy and rest.

O thou faire goddesse, from high Jove sprung forth,

Sing of these sorrowes!"

ARGUMENT OF THE ODYSSES. 333

No more of our Odysses is given here excepting, of a
truth, our numerous keyes, and these are oft similar, as
noe doubt you will note, to manie that are alreadie used
in th' Iliads; but no confusion can arise, as th' words
which joine the portions are sufficient. These I name
simplie joining-words, as such use must bee made of them
as a builder maketh of th' markes that are frequentlie
noted on timbers and stones that th' farre-seeing planner
doth already, to his mindes eye, picture, fitted into a
structure Time itselfe can little alter.

Key-wordes follow: first, the heavenly beings, god-
desses, gods and spirites, demy-gods or heroes; th' ruler
or god that controles th' ocean, Poseidon, with the whole
traine of sea-gods, nymphes, and attenda'ts; the god of
th' underworld, Pluto, with every spirit of that realme;
Olympus, Ida, Pergamos, Hellespontus, Troy, Trojans,
Grecians, Thrace, siege, battaile, flight, vessels, tempest,
wrack, haven, rocks, Calypso, immortality, Penelope,
Telemachus, Sparta, Hellen, Menelaus, Nestor, sage r
Theoclymenus, Argos, murther, ambuscade, swineheard,
adventures, Eumseus, ship, Phaeacian sailors, present,.
Nausicaa, Alcinous, Arete, Cicones, Cyclops, Cimmerii r
winds, Circe, sorceresse, Ulysses, mates, enchantment,
swine, Teiresias, Scylla, Charybdis, isle, Siren, Helios>
cattel, perill, Ithica, suitors, web, bowe, stranger, ven-
geance, servantes, Laertes, insurrection, conquest, oathe ?
Mentor, voyce and forme.

FRANCISCI, BARONIS DE VERULAMIO,

Vice-Comitis Sancti Albani.

De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum is ended.

FKANCIS BACON.

NEW ATLANTIS.
1635.

I am named in th' world, not what my stile should bee
according to birth, nor what it rightf ullie should be accord-
ing to our law, which giveth to the first-borne o' th' royall
house, (if this first-borne be a sonne o' th' ruling prince,
and borne in true and right wedlocke) th' title of th' Prince
o' Wales. My name is Tidder, yet men speak of me as
Bacon, even those that knowe of my royal mother, and her
lawfull marriage with th' Earle o' Leicester, a suitable time
prior to my birth.

Queenes are not like common folk. They often con-
trole opinions as well as their estates, and Elizabeth's strong
will was not one that could be resisted. Her policy made
Parliament and her Privy-Counsel each suppose, not onely
that their wisedome did soe govern England, but that she
herself was, (in a degree truly wondrous for a descendant
o' th' line o' kings, like th' royall sire and grandsire o'
famous memory) control'd by advisement of th' men that
compose these bodies. No doubt they did not lack occa-
sion at one time and another to modify this notion, yet her
witt was seldome unequall to occasion, while a perplexitie
rather sharpen'd then dull'd, and actuall danger made as a
two-edged sword. Thus men were often dazzled by the
sword, and not many that used this edg'd weapon escaped
without deepe scarres. My hands aye, my head as well,
more then all, my heart are sorelie wounded; for in a
breath, my royall mother disclos'd our relationship and

334

NEW ATLANTIS. 335

cursed my nativity: nor could I, in the numerous subse-
quent encou'ters, change her hasty decisio' upon that very
important question of th' succession. 'Tis said: "The curse
that was not deserv'd never will come." Some may finde
it true, but to me a causelesse curse did surely come, and
my entire life felt th' blighte.

ISTeverthelesse, to Eobert Cecil I owe much o' this secret,
underhand, yet constant opposition: for from th' first hee
was th' spy, th' informer to th' Queene, of all the boyish
acts of which I had least cause or reason for any pride.
This added fuel to the flame of her wrath, made me the
more indiscreete, and precipitated an open disagrement,
which lasted for some time, 'tweene my foster-mother,
Lady Anne Bacon, and the woman who bore me, whom
however I seldom name with a title so sacred as mother.
In truth, Cecil work'd me nought save evill to th' daie
which took him out o' this world.

Through his vilde influence on Elizabeth, hee fill'd her
rninde with a suspition of my desire to rule th' whole
world, beginning with England, and that my plann was
like Absalom's, to steale th' hearts of the Nation and move
th' people to desire a king. He told her that my every
thought dwelt on a crowne; that my onelie sport amid my
school-mates was a pageant of royalty ; that 'twas my hand
in which th' wooden staife was plact, and my head that
wore th' crowne, for no other would be allowed to repre-
sent princes or their pompe. He inform'd Her Ma. that
I would give a challenge to a fierce boyish fight, or a
duello of fists, if, any one presum'd to share my honours
or depose me from my throne.

In due time th' Queene, afraide of these ominous por-
tents, sent for good Paulet and arranged that under pre-

336 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

texte of great importe, I should accompany our ambassage
to France. I was plact in th' care of Sir Amyias and left
th' shores of my own f aire land without a moment of warn-
ing, soe to speak. Th' Queene by her [power] royall, and
her rights maternall, readily overrul'd all our several objec-
tions. No teares on part o' my dear foster-mother, nor
entreaties o' that o' grave Sir N. Bacon avail'd, while I,
as soone as my first protest had been waived, occupied my
fantasy houre after houre, picturing to myselfe th' life in
forraine lands.

Th' fame of th' gay French Court had come to me even
then, and it was flattering to th' youthfull and most natural!
love o' th' affaires taking us from my native land, inasmuch
as th' secret commission had been entrusted to me, which
required much true wisdome for safer, speedier conduct
then 'twould have if left to th' common course o' businesse.
Soe with much interessed, though sometimes apprehensive
minde, I made myselfe ready to accompanie Sir Amyias
to that sunny land o' th' South I learn'd soe supremely to
love, that afterwards I would have left England and every
hope o' advancement to remain my whole life there. Xor
yet could this be due to th' delights of th' country, by
itselfe, for love o' sweete Marguerite, th' beautifull young
sister o' th' king (married to gallant Henri th' King o'
Navarre) did make it Eden to my innocent heart, and even
when I learn'd her perfidie, love did keepe her like th'
angels in my thoughts half o' th' time as to th' other half
she was devilish, and I myselfe was plung'd into hell. Thi^
lasted duri'g many yeares, and, not untill four decades or
eight lustres o' life were outliv'd, did I take any other to-
my sore heart. Then I married th' woman who hath put
"Marguerite from my memorie rather, I should say, hath

NEW ATLANTIS. 337

banisht her portrait to th' walles of memorie, onely, where
it dot'h hang in th' pure, undimmed beauty of those early
dayes while her most lovelie presence doth possesse this
entire mansion, of heart and braine.

Yet here I have a little digress'd, although the matter
doth appertaine unto my story at a later period. When
Sir Amyias Paulet became avised of my love, he propos'd
that he should negotiate a treaty of marriage, and appro-
priately urge on her pending case o' the divorce from the
young Huguenot; but for reasons of very grave importance
these buds of an early marriage never open'd into flower.
But the future race will profit by th' failure in the field of
love, for in those flitting daies afterward, having resolv'd
to cover every marke of defeate with th' triumphs o' my
minde, I did thoroughly banish my tende' love dreams Jo
th' regions o' clouds as unreall, and let my works of vari-
ous kinds absorb my minde. It is thus by my disappoint-
ments that I do secure to many, fruition.

Those whose chief desire is Scientin will rejoyce in my
experiments in Naturall Sciences, for they have greatly
increas'd the knowledge which was in th' world. Some-
thing have my labours done for other claimants, and Phil-
osophic and th' Arts have gained by no meanes slightly by
my labour, for I took no respite for yeares. It is to make
my decypherer industrious I urge this upon the attention
soe frequently. I have learn'd well how much a wise use
of time saveth, and I wish most deeply to stampe my pre-
cepts upon th' minde, at th' very earliest opportunitie and
upon my latest appearance, as a guide in th' labirinth of
Cyphers.

It is to this husbandry this guarding 'gainst losse that
I do owe a large aye th' greater portion o' this work in

338 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Cypher. When a care of the minutes hath been learnt a
care almost miserlie, in truth his next taske, quite simi-
lar, is that of holding to it faithf ullie. This work perhaps
more then any other which is knowne to mankind needeth
continuance. As in a race he that hath greatest endurance
doth come out before him of greatest .speede, so here, like-
wise, hee who can long f ollowe this Cipher is sure to winne
an easy triumphe over him that soone tireth and leaveth
the course.

It was necessarie to be wary: wee have spoken little
therefore in anie single place, eyther of the subjects that
are fully .treated in the Cyphers or the rules for their easy
unfolding: indeed a man of wit shall finde our stories and
plays before he doth see the rules and arguments, if he be
not a patient man, or especially if bird-witted flying on
swiftest pinions and never resting upon the leafie boughs
longer then until he finde one olive leafe; but when his
waie becometh difficile he hath but weake aides, if he finde
not the diverse arguments which I put in many places in
the Bi-literall and Clocke Ciphers.

Labour, I doe entreate thee, with all dilligence to draw
forth th' numerous rules for use in writing out these secret
workes. It is now the onely desire that hath likelihood of
grand fulfillment, but so great is our faith that posterity
shall give honour unto our name, here and in the distant
lands beyond th' seas, our efforts are, as it might be said,
tirelesse and unceasing to carry out even the least portions
of our marvellous work to perfection.

Unto God do we lift up our soules imploring of Him
aide, blessing, and light for the illumination o' the workes
which wee leave.

FKANCIS BACON.

SYLVA SYLVARUM; OR NATURAL HISTORY.

RAWLEY'S PREFACE.
1635.

Illy his lordship's works succeed when he is dead, for
the Cypher left inco'plete I have now finished. As you
must note, th' Court papers told the world no secrets, yet
I have stumblingly proceeded with it and unwitti'gly used
some letters wro'gly as B, I, L, M, ~N, P, S and Z.

When, however, you find this change in the eighth
Centurie where I beganne th' worke, you shall pause
awhile, then use the alphabet as it is heerein employ'd and
as explain'd in my preceding epistle. It will thus be like
a new kind of alphabet and doubtlesse will bee trouble-
some, yet can bee conn'd while some had to be discover'd;
but in respect of a probable familiaritie with th' worke, and
the severall diverse methods employed oft by his lordship,
this may by no meanes be requir'd, since th' wit that could
penetrate such mysteries surely needeth no setti'g forth and
enlarging of mine.

Ere the whole question be dropt, however, let me bid
you go on to my larger and fully arranged table where th'
storie, or epistle, is finish'd as it should have beene had his
lordship lived to compleat it, since my part was but that of
th' hand, and I did write only that portion which was not
us'd at th' time. All this was duely composed and written
out by his hand, and may bee cherish'd.

839

340 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON

From his penne, too, works which now bear th' name
Burton containing in them th' symboll, word, bi-literall r
clocke, and severall anagramme Ciphers put forth make
useful those portions which could by noe means bee
adapted to dramaticall writings. If you doe not use them
as you decypher th' interiour epistles, so conceal'd, your
story shall not be compleat.

Th' workes are in three divisio's entitled, Melancholy,
Its Anatomy. Additions to this booke have beene by direc-
tion of Lord Verullam, himselfe, often by his hand, whilst
th' interiour letter, carried in a number of ingenious
Cyphers mentioned above, is from his pen, and is the same
in every case that he would have used in these workes, for
his is, in verie truth, worke cut short by th' sickel of Death.

Turn next as instru'ted to my co'pleate table of the
matter treated, or experiments set downe, and carry the
s'cret story to its conclusio'. This doth followe directly
upon the body of the worke as it should, had it beene in-
corporate with it.

WILLIAM RAWLEY.

FRANCIS BACON.

NATURAL HISTORY.
1635.

Every worke contains portions of my Cypher history:
many that have great matters o' which no suspicion should
be rais'd while I live, are written in the Latine, and are
the lesse likely to be prematurelie found; for I doe not
write these in expectation or desire of rousing such atten-
tion as shall jeopardize the story (hid much as our rules
and sundry directions are hidden, onely not so oft repeated,
for the readie eie o' my closest reader) built out of some
stories great poetes have writ, or sung, that I turn'd into
the best English of my day, to use in my Cypher.

Finding that one important story within manie others
produc'd a most ordinarie play, poem, history, essay, law-
maxime, or other kind, class, or description of work, I
tried th' experiment of placing my tra'slations of Homer
and Virgil within my other Cypher. When one work has
been so incorporated into others, these are then in like
manner treated, separated into parts and widely scatter'd
into my numerous books. When th' task has been corn-
pleated, and this little Ciphe' (thus contrived to ayde you
in the writing) put into place, it is ready for the pub-
lishing.

Seeke it out by carefull attentio' to the simple rules
which pointe your course: directions shewe each part of
the worke so fully, (my designe is so farre worked out in
such other accompanying Cyphers as best will teach this
invention) that the unfolding doth seem like as it were

341

342 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

o' itselfe. Indeed you may write meerelie as the hired
assista't whose worke is that of a man's hand, or penne,
not of his thought, braine, or minde, inasmuch as my
thought has inform'd every portion, as the minde doth the
bodie.

At no time shal your appearance in mine emploie bee
deem'd anie otherwise then that of an amanuensis, yet,
sir, all dues of honour shal be yours, in this and the com-
ing ages, since it is wholly by this meanes that the greatest
things of this age can be revealed. Much doth it behoove
everie man to be wise, prudent, and of great care to avoid
the obloquy the vulgar are ever likelie to cast on anyone
more fortunate then themselves; thus I, constantly heed-
ing this, have kept the secret of my birth many years
longer than was absolutely necessary, lest seeking to ac-
quire that which, while most truly my right, beeing settled
by my royall mother upon my cousin, could not well be
reclaimed, I might loose thereby many worthie honours I
had wonne by labor as fruitfull and widely scattered, in-
deed, as any workes of Nature.

This however is told in full; I do but make mention of
it here. Seeke it out if you have not alreadie found it,
and make a full historic of my owne life and times. The
men who live in the world will much valew a worke so
hidden and preserv'd when I shall be no more a living
historian and .philosopher, since all should seeme to em-
bodie my invention, and to be the sound of my long
unheard voyce, which speaks to them in tones well remem-
ber'd.

Yet must I owe to you the favo' of making this voyce
sound the sweet music o' song. I can but frame the verses
for your penne, and leave a work of Time unto Time's

NATURAL HISTORY. 343

mastery. Yotir dutie although somewhat dull is of so
great importancy, I am assured that it doth requite the
pains, but my great fear is lest a wearinesse overcome you
ere this Cypher, or the Word Cypher may be fully work'd
out. Doe me not so meane a service as leaving this work
unfinished, I do entreate you. Make it my monument to
marke the end of labour for my f ellowe-men, principallie
the advancement and dissemination of knowledge, yet
much for th' pleasing of men's mindes, while setting forth*
my other history, for I give you my assurance that the

worke is worthy o' preservacion.

One must give as great a portion o' time as seven daies
in the weeke can furnish, and must not use many houres
for recreation, would he leave ought o' any value to men,
for life is so short. It is for this cause that I use my time
so miser-like, never spending a moment idly, when in
health. Oft my table seemes to me as a study, and I too
frequently invite my friends when my minde seemes more
upon my worke then my guests; yet do I accompt my repu-
tation as an host not of the worse, inasmuch as I do con-
verse with great ease, and (as hath beene said) with so
much spiritt and wit that none know or imagine my absorp-
tion. Many times have I thus made the plot of a story in
minde while great lords sat at the table, follow'd many of
my experimentes to indisputable conclusions, or contrived
a newe Cipher.

You will observe a rule by which I separated the parts
or divisions; this rule will, per contra, put them together
in the originall order. Thus, when the keyes are found,
take a part of that for your story, then follow the same
key until some o' th' widely open doores be entered, and
some idea bee form'd of the method of th' hidden Cyphe'.

3t4 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Follow this to its inner folio, nor unbende until the whole
of my Cipher historie be written.

It is behoovefull, as indeed wee know, that none o' this
worke attract attention while I remaine here, and for
another quite manifesto reaso' th' Cyphers are not as justly
work'd out i' my later and larger bookes as I had intended
to do, for lacke of time is something no man could over-
come. Surely my hand and braine have but short rest.

' I firmly beleeve it were not in th' power of humane beings
to do anie more then I have done, yet I am but partlie
satisfied.

The chief e wish I now have is to continue my rightfull,
humble, yet truly worthy workes for my toyling fellowes,
who wrestle in blind helplessness with th' forces of Nature.

. We that know the manifold mightie influences of unseen
things, owe more of this knowledge of our environing^ to
the light from our Celestiall Source then to our investiga-
tions. Therin lieth the duty we owe to our fellowe-uien,
for do not our Scriptures say: Freely ye have received,
so must ye in like manner give? This then doth urge ine
ever on, up to heights of knowledge that no one hath ever
reached.

Make a table, as hath beene alreadie said, putting therin
the names that I have taken in the worke, and also mark
that each doth represent one of my numerous penne names.
When a word has many times been used, making what you
would thinke, many times, very uselesse and questionable
averments, you will turne to your small table, and finding
it has beene put upon it, you begin a course or hunt for
certaine other words, keies I have named them, but
keepe the same catche, or guide-words from place to place.
A small tilda, or mark of this kinde is used, sometimes, to
catch your attention, and ayde in th' search for keyes.

NATURAL HISTORY. 345

The mark is often put inside letters, and as I have already
said, is neare key-words.

My word-signs are scattered with most prodigall hand,
not onely in the prose, but also in the diverse other workes.
In many places you may finde them named as joyning-
wordes, this manner shewing their use, which is to bring
parts together. You must likewise keep in minde one
very important rule: it is, that like must be joyn'd to like.
Match each key. with words of a like meaning, like nature,
or like origin. These are sometimes called, in many prose
pamphlets and th' workes of philosophy or science, con-
jugates, connaturalls and similars or parallels.

This doth unite parts in such a maner that you can
write in perfection my many stage-plaies, histories, poemes,
translations of Homer, Ovid, and (and) Virgil, and many
French poems writen at an early age, and little worth save
to finish the historic that they complete, indirectly it
is true, nor too fully, but with such passion that he who
doth put it downe is sure to take it up againe. It sheweth
forth my love for mine angelic-faced, softe-eyed Mar-
guerite of th' South-land sweet White Rose of my lone
garden of th' heart.

My table of keyes by which each of the many workes
were prepared, you may have found while making out
this Cypher; they have beene placed in most of my books,
but in manifolde wayes, as well as in many places, in
order that my Cipher story of mine earliest yeeres, be
not writen while I stay in this land of my birth and right-
full inheritance. It is for this cause that little of your
subject matter occupies one spuce, your numerous instruc-
tions so widely dispersed, nothing given with any due con-
cern as to sequence, changes (often unexpected) from one

346 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

place to another, with much other and entir'ly foraine
matter introduced to make this to appeare principall in
the intention.

Yet the trulie dilligent worker and ingenious decipherer
may not thus easily be let or missled, and I shall rest ill
in my minde for this manie a long day, least this fox may
chance to be unkennelled too early. It is not feare, but
disstaste of th' unseemely talk and much curiosity of the
many who read these Cypher histories, and it is worth
your time spent i' the long labour, if I have my inventions
so perfected that nothing may thwart my designes.

My time of feare went from me with my greatness, but
I still wish to avoid many questionings, and much sus-
picion, perchance, on the side of the king, in his owne
prope' person. I have neede of the very caution which
kept these secrets from the many, when my mother made
me swear secrecy, and my life was the forfeit; nor may
I now speake openly, yet many men for a kingdome would
break their oathes.

But my kingdome is in immortall glory among men
from generatio' unto comming generations. An unend-
ing fame will crowne my browe, and it is farre better
worth in any true thinking minde, I am assured, then many
a crowne which kings do have set on with shewe and
ceremonie. Yet when I have said it, my heart is sad for
the great wrong that I must forever endure.

Seeke th' key-words if you would find th' secrets I shall
write or anie alreadie told, for a newe name must now bee
given him who shewes here written some pages of his
hidden history. This you may finde clearly tolde in the
Word-Cypher if it be still to seeke, but as I have mentioned
it in severall places I must be allow'd the hope that you

NATURAL HISTORY. 347

have found the letter I have written which contains the
directions in itself for a Cypher of a very great valew
for my purposes.

I shewe many truths of the affaires of th' times that
you have not founde told by my fellow-historians, for
none knowe this page of history as the Queene and a
few others that dar'd not reveal it knew it, and fear'd
it. What will grow therfrom, is unknowne, yet none
living save one man, besides the one most interested,
standeth in this historic. These two are myself one who
by rights should be th' King of England, the last o' the
honour'd line of rulers of whom none was more honour'd
then was my mother, Queene Elizabeth, (and none lesse
justlie so), the other is His Ma. th' King, (Charles)
important onely as th' sonne o' th' man who ruled his
owne kingdome, that of Scotland, and mine, that o' Eng-
land.

The principall reason which makes my heart sad shall
then be seen more fully. It is" one quite such as Nature,
herselfe doth place within us, the love o' power with
desire for right and justice, and though you stand farre
removed from me in time (this I doubt not) it is still
my surest hope that you may not let my story lie hidden
from all eies, but will winne just renowne among men by
writing, in many tongues, the Cypher which my writings
hold within them. As the worke would scantily paye
such of the hunting men as must be rewarded promptlie,
and who can never seeke patientlie secrets that be of a
greater worth then any history otherwise giv'n, especially
if it may be through waves that do turne many times
backe and forth, you are, I do assure you, alone in this
adventure.

348 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Many who ride to th' chase turne back their steedes
before th' fox runs to cover; the game is too swift, or,
as oft may happen with one having a steed of great spirit,
he is left by a hedge and must helpe himself in as good
humour as possible: so in quests of this sorte they will
not winne that fall by the wayside, nor they that turne
back ere the end.

My labyrinth is tortuous, guarded by a Minotaur more
fierce than th' one in Crete, and as watchf ull as a Cerberus.
It is myselfe that watcheth as "they that prevent the
morning," lest I be betraied by some Judas or moderne
Sinon, and I trust that the meanderings leade the feet in
apparentlie meaningless waies, so that the places seeme
not noteworthy to th' observer, in which I have put the
keyes, while others having no important matter have beene
prepared in a way that arouses curiosity. Farre fro' her
neste, the Lapwing cries, away; and I have thus farre
met with unhoped, even unthought of results, insomuch
that now I feare that my whole labour may be lost.

But faith is triumphant, and th' doubts are generally
conquered; for we do place men's powers i' rank, not so
farre beneath our owne that we give waye to distrust.
This that is cast wide upon darke waters may some daye
bring a reward to one who did not sowe th' grain nor
plough th' ground; but when it shall be, my fame must
exceed his. This that I do, ever must be held of such
value that the work of him who carries it forward can
but be, as hath beene formerly mentioned, second to mine.

You now must use other plays which are combin'd, in
the manner of the many already used, as follows : Peele's
comedy of The j Old Wives' Tale; and Shakespeare, his
Twelfe Night, or What You Will; Comedy of Errors;

NATURAL HISTORY. 349

Midsommer Night' Dreame; As You Like It; Love's
Labour Lost, and Th' Two Gentlemen of Yerona. Next
Greene's Pinner of Wakefield, with the Merchant of
Venice ; to these join the Arraignement o' Paris of Peele,
and The Taming o' the Shrew, Marlowe's Jew o' Malta,
and second Doctor Fausstus, Th' Merry Wives of Windsor,
Measure for Measure, and All is Well that Ends Well.
When you compleate the foregoing, take Much Ado about
Nothing, Peele's Tale of Troy, Hiren th' Faire Greeke,
and The Winter's Tale.

By this time you must have found all these rules, as
everie play contains many. These direct your feet in a
winding waie, wearysome to you oft-times and not always
promising much profite, and yet manie stories are wrapt
in this C-yphe'. Many of these were placed heere only
for a guide or aide, in my Cipher- work. This must have
beene soe apparent many times that my mention of it
giveth you undue labour, but you had not greater dificultie
with this very tortive Cypher, it must be scene, then I
have had in writing them all and co'cealing one within
others so neatly that no prying eie hath read the stories
thus hidden here.

This Cypher then is of value to future generations.
They who may have an ardent desire for glory, hereby
may find a waye to gain the honour which they thus
fervently and fev'rously seeke. He that is imployed to
conduct business which doth much concerne matters of
th' State, and th' affaires that not onely are of importancy
to princes, but to the people, shall not f aile to want other,
possibly many and varied, means of transmitting what-
ever is of secrecy or great import in his embassage. To
him shall my invention give joy and profit many times,

350

BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

nor can it be untimely at any age of human history
when my life is done, a monument more white and fair
then the marble the farre mines o' Italy or Isles of Ionia
have ever produc'd.

Pause before abandoning your work to aske: "Is my
honor, my pride, my fortune or fame pledg'd to anie-
thing?" It is said to anyone having gone forth to his
labor: "Let not him look back who hath put hand unto
his plough;" so shall the man who may have found my
inventions presse forward to his farthest bourne, and
winne the reward of industrious workers.

Never may doubts and idle fears assail him. A light
shineth upon th' path his feet must tread, guiding like
fiery pillar both while the night doth darken, and in the
daytime when the sunne doth shine, in th' noontime,
at evening and at morne. Many moneths shall this light
guard the waye, guiding his feete, and comforting his
spirits. ~No labyrinth can bee so winding that he shal
not be the leader through all the twisted, subtile
turnings.

As houndes pursew the fox, so swiftly must he followe
the quest till the Cipher histories be found. Time will
justlie pay all his obligations, as he provided early in his
venture, nor will he aba'don one who wandereth in Night
and ^Egyptia' darknesse untill he hath found th' light.
Your assurance may grow strong, my friend, for th' end
is sure. The golden crowne shall one day be yours.

Alas, how do men's mindes turne to the hope of a
great name in some other waie, when no greatnesse of
bloud hath set a seal upo' them. Some, however, are
greater by birth. Such are heires to king-domes, as I
myself am, yea, and heire to a scepter, itself of such

NATURAL HISTORY. 351

pow'r that Europe doth tremble in dread o' wrath and
destruction if the shadowe falleth over the land: yet I am
not king, nor even heire-apparent to His Ma. My mother
gave away her owne first-borne fruit o' her body, nor did
she at any subsequent time honor him publickly as her
sonne, although she promised it oft in the earlier years
of her raigne. I who now speake to you in this waye, as
hath bin said elsewhere in th' Cipher, am the Prince so
unjustlie treated. My heart burneth in my bosom, my
spirit swelleth like Neptune's waters before a tempest,
and threateneth to orepeer the lists whenere my eager
thoughts dwell long upon a crowne and throne.

Nor is it wholly borne of injuries,
But there is that within my spiritt saith
That I was form'd to govern other men,
Wisely and boldly as befittteth kings.
It is no vaine conceit, no idole dreame,
But in my veines a royall currant floweth
Whose sourse, no other than the heart of him
Surnam'd the Conqueror, sent i' crimson rivers,
Warm, vitall, swift, in many channels running;
Through heart o' one the boldest of th' bold,
Whom men re-christen' d Cordelion Richard,
The Lion Heart; through artiers of that king,
Edward the Third in name th' first in honor;
And in bold Henry Fifth coursing like fire;
That bloud innam'd my grandsire Henry Eight;
Surged in the veines of Queen Elizabeth,
My royall mother; now, to me come downe,
Entaileth to me, by a law divine,
This sole inheritance. Yea, it is mine,

352 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

A gift irrevocable from her whose hand

Th' imperiall scepter held. Not Jove himselfe

With awfull bending browe, the nod that shaketh

The firm foundation of the solid globe

With fev'rous earthequakes, maketh Heaven tremble

In terrour and affright, and hurleth backe

To secret ocean cave a frighten'd horde

Of cowering waves, had pow'r to give to gods,

Or unto humankind, decree more fix'd.

Such are these Cypher poemes I put within workes of
this kind. The theam of the exteriour works play,
poem, or work of science often no waye concerneth that
contain'd within, yet in the Cypher history I have put
some of my wealth of poesy, both of poesie which doth
intend nought but th' giving of pleasure, and that whose
designe is to instruct. Many are plays, others are trans-
lated epics of Yirgill and Homer. I repeate this oft since
I know not what pages have been work'd out, not sup-
posing that instinct in a decypherer can be so strong, that
he hath begun his work where I commenced my instruc-
tions; yea, in workes of poetry, history, science, I have
scatter'd with free hand so manie repetitions of my direc-
tions that it would surprise me beyond measure, if my
letter remaine still a sealed booke whose writing none
may read.

When sufficient have beene found in any place to make
a full tale of keyes, a portion o' this history may be
written, and, please you, the writing o' th' secrets is
chiefest in my conceit, for 'twere a more note-worthy
thing, I hold, to make true and correct records of the
history of England and of Queene Elizabeth, her life,

NATURAL HISTORY. 353

than to relate the most thrilling tale man's minde can
produce. It doth redounde most to our credit of all our
worthy labou', and shall also bring just reward unto the
decipherer, but no part is better worth noting then the
portio' that doth containe the story which Time onely
will reveale, inasmuch as it is nowhere found or is nowhere
left to my countrymen but in Cypher.

The reason is not farre t' seeke; 'tis this: the many
spies employ'd by our mother, the constant watchfull eies
she had upon us, marking our going out and our coming
in, our rising up and all our movements from the rising
of the sunne, to his rising upon the following morning;
not a moment when we could openly write and publish a
true, accurate history of our times, since nought which
Her Ma. disapprov'd could ever finde a printer.

This then is th' onely cause of my secrecy, but it is
much too great an attempt now to reveale all this openly:
instead, I will spend my whole time in encreast modells,
and well form'd examples of the art o' transmitting. A
true accompt of my mother's favorite treasure is strictly
given in my history : her love of golden praises, of silverie
tongued words of flattering speech, dialogues of compli-
ment and princely sayings, or ceremonies. It formed her
chief wealth, while, unlike the mother of the Gracchi,
she did not reckon sonnes as jeweles, nor did she openly
acknowledge either my brother or myself borne princes
heires to th' kingdome.

It burneth as an injury no lapse of time can cure, a
ceaselesse corosive which doth eate th' heart. Th' sole
relief e doth come by making out a complete history of my
wrong that doth so embitter my dayes. Men can eat
sleepe, drinke, worke when the heart is bowed down in

354 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

pain, yet the joys are gone from their whole lives, and
doe not return. Chief of sorrows is a sense of willful
wrong on th' part of such men or women as have greatest
obligation by relation, and more especially those of neerest
and most tender relationship that o parents to a childe.
This will never grow inferior, nor ev'n merely equall to
the naturall ills in life. It doth rather greatly magnify
and increase. Why and wherefore I shall not aske, nor
marvell at ought of similar nature. The Creator planted
this within the bosom o' our kind. Who hath so great
wisedome or soe just judgment of our life, of right or
wrong, as our Maker? Who can pronounce His lawes at
fault? A foole or blind, perchance, not he that sees, nor
the man o' thought.

Your work is soe thoroughly plan'd, its every part
neatly joined togather before it was again separated, it
awaits th' master hand. I may teach you the manner and
perhaps shew manie examples in divers works for your
use, as appeare often in more than three methodes of
transmitting, yet the work is entirelie left to you.

It dependeth upon others oft-times to reape th' har-
vest one hand hath sowen, and my labour may be so com-
pared: it is also verie like th' sounds musicians make in
tuning their instruements, of no delight or pleasantnesse
to heare, but for this cause, afterward there is sweeter and
more pleasing musicke. But we shall have occasion to
shew the wonderfully beautifull harmony that hath at one
time been brought forth, if you but obey us.

There is a play in some of my prose works, in Cypher,
of great worth, entitl'd The White Rose o' Britaine. It
hath as principall actors, names verie familiar. Historic
related events, and out of many papers which th' times

NATURAL HISTORY. 355

render of importance, I have made a play. The parts con-
cerning my maternall great-grandsire, who as you no
doubt have learned before this was King Henry Seventh,
and also much o' that that doth chiefly concern his thorne,
that Perkin (or as it is often written elsewhere, Peterkin)
Warbeck, and the gentle wife, whom the king so gallantly
nam'd White Rose o' Britaine, will be found in the his-
toric -of his raigne. The remaining portions are put in
my Essays, in my Advancement of Learning, the Anatomy
of Melancholy and portions of such plays as naturallie
treat of affaires of State.

It shall give many a portion of my history, for, my
owne case is of the same nature as Perkin's, but my claime
was just, his built on thin aire. Wrongs have been done
me which none have known but persons who kept th'
secret of my early life. In this play you heare the chaf'd
lion's sullen roare, and though the scenes have their proper
place in the history of Henry the Seventh's time, manie of
them will be found to relate other things of an after time.
If you keepe my life and its rude tumults in minde, this
play that seemeth to relate such events in the reigne [of]
this most mighty king, shall portray many a scene in that
of Elizabeth, my owne royall parent. It is the vaine crie
the tortured one doth utter ere the spirit doth quit the
earthly frame.

You can proceed at once to collect much matter to-
gather in masse to be assorted, arranged, put aside for your
future use, as you have frequentlie received directions in
a great many works and in more places then one, arid so
mark'd and dispos'd as to lie as readie to th' hand, as
brickes unto the hand of th' builder.

356 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Many a yeare I did work upon this method to perfect
it for use, and I submit it to you not so much as a work
which shall be to the advantage of myselfe, that in truth,
right, and the simplest justice should have the soveraignty
of th' kingdome, as one brought forth for the aggrandize-
ment of the patient decypherer. It is for this that I looke
out to that long future, not of years but of ages, knowing
that my labours are for benefit of a land very far off, and,
after great length of time is past, Europe must also reap
th' great harvest still ripening as doth the yellowe graine
where th' sunshine doth fall.

As for th' Cypher-play you have now to write, when you
have brought each cipher block (I use a native mode of
speech) you comence by polishing and rounding these to
resemble such as the plays that you already have written
contain. Many parts are rough, it remains for your hand
to polish some, reconstruct others, nor leave unturned the
least portion of a line which I have plac'd in the Historic
of King Henry the Seventh, and manie like prose workes,
inasmuch as my time would not suffice to give this further
attention.

But your experience hath well furnished the minde
with all our directions and rules for any worke of this
kinde, therefore our last play shall surelie hold a place
of equal ranke with those that have doubtlesse come to th'
hands of our publishers long ere this. For the decypher-
ing of these secret workes will hardly be so closelie hid,
or so secretly done as hath beene th' work of my silent
"preparation.

In some places another word has beene conjoin'd, as
confusion may arise if I give not some just signe, or other-
wise shewe which part of my owne life is related in this

NATURAL HISTORY. 357

play. As in the early part which I spent across the chan-
nell, surely in this the same kind of guiding words set
this apart. These, the words thus used, pertaine to human-
ity, as for example, mankinde, womankinde, and all th'
kinds of names us'd in th' Language to signify human-
kinde.

Seeke all the keies which are so guarded by a word that
I have pointed out thorow the many bookes. Like fingers
on a guide-post they shall so direct the way out of the
labyrinth that you can trace it with the penne as on a
map or chart. All the rules given for th' other works
shall be used to decipher this play, and th' first thing to
do in this, as in all, must be making ready a true table
of my guards, guides, keies, word-signs (or such as bring
these portiones into such relation or position, with regarde
each to the other, as before ; or those that do give a direc-
tion to the work so named) also th' numerous and diverse
names that designate various works.

When this hath beene well prepared anie further delay
is unnecessary for all else was but secundarie in my de-
signe. If further directions bee requir'd they must come
to light in the pursuance o' this work. This in truth is
in part my plan, as I have found no rules can be render'd
quite crystalline, finished and perfected, beforehand, but
use shall pollish them like glasses of steel. This is not a
deficiency in any of the rules or direct'ons, but hath roote
in th' weaknesse and insufficiency that sheweth ever in a
man's first motions by another's suggestions. Yet custome
doth familiarize these notions the repitition o' th' action
helpeth also thereafter th' hand of th' man is a perfect
and constant instrument obeying the will of a tirelesse
master-minde and spirit.

358 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Thus the decyph'rer, part only of that instrument, doth
draw a hidden secret forth, revealing marvellously strange
happenings as unknowne to himselfe as they have thus
farre (necessarily) beene to all the world outside this
microcosme myselfe. This must bee so, yet shall his
most importante labours in due time have the worthy
measure of reward that they undeniably but justlie merit.
I must plant, I must sow, while none save hee shall
reape my fields of ripening golden corn that must feed the
hungrie in future ages. Th' gods' sweet nectar or ambro-
sia is not so immortall as my precious harvest shall be.
It is to you I doe speak, and unto you do I looke for aide.
I, alone, am like a child in its infancie, weake and help-
lesse; you must afford strength for my frame. Yours is
the hand that must lead me whither my steps would go
the guide, lamp, staffe indeed my sole hope and staie the
judge who is to give sentence upon the least or upon the
greatest of the crimes any of the persons of whom I speak
were guilty the one from whom I shall expect just sen-
tence when my owne life doth stand before you in judge-
ment.

When my very soule doth lie, as the soules of men
shall, before our Father's judgement seate, expos'd to the
eies of men and angels, I shall receyve all men's praise in-
steed of a whole nation's or manie nations' contumely.
Then my love shall bee known, which would sacrifice my
ease that humanity might share in all these labours, reap-
ing rich benefits from my studies. So must my name bee
revered in manie a land among th' sons of men; and in
old countries where learning doth flourish, shall new
knowledge grow from these experiments or inquiries when
th' naturall lawes have been more carefully sought.

NATURAL HISTORY. 359

It must be well seene in many person's experience, that
while Fortune hath somewhat of a woman's nature, hast'n-
ing her steps whenere pursued, studies and learning may
be said to woo their lovers. Knowledge will reward all
who seeke th' real spirit or beautifull outward forme. No
ardente follower was ere unsatisfied, if he faltered not nor
wearied in a race up the lofty steeps of Olympus, and I
now seeke th' dizzie top more eagerlie then I did in those
e'rly daies when my bloud ran warme and life itselfe was
as the first rayes of faire sunshine: for the crowne then
seemed to hang ore my head. My right was made plaine
to me, and besides a great earnestnesse, a persisting upon
my owne side, there should bge, and I doubt there was,
some secret bending or stooping o' my mother's spirit, yet
my fate was as a card a die cast by hands of those bold
men, not as a prince's shining destiny.

I faine would attest how painfull this acting parts soon
(naturally) did seeme unto my father, for, said hee, "A
mortall man may speak falselie upon occasion but he was
a strange man who dared live a falsehood;" nevertheless
hee did live, the unacknowledg'd husband of Queene
Elizabeth, my mother. But hee was an unwise and most
artles actour, and oft did give sad trouble to some of our
managers or controllers, those in the haughtie Burleigh's
emploie, or th' hand and glove associates who served as his
factors, but this was not of any momente.

The times were not a bad schoolemaster. When I
resumed my former study of th' state of th' nations, and
patiently work'd out th' modell of government, my most
potent reason may be justlie gather'd; for I then did trust
to his hopefull spirit as a sonne naturallie should. In my
Cipher as you must soon see, I have written out the afore-
said modell, which I still thinke is worthy of attention.

360 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

Make search for keies in another work entitled, New
Atlantis, but looke on further for directions. Here you
may finde a rule by which Cipher stories, of value and
interest not onely in the time of which this secret work
doth treate, but also when a future time is come, are put
within some of my other workes. These are written as
intending their printing, but no design of publication ere
did enter the plan that I formed of this opportune methode
of hiding my worke until such time as one shall write
my history.

This historic in the form of plays, concerneth a great
and most mightie sovereign, Queene Elizabeth, with mine
owne eventfull life, the -sorry course of the Earle that
was mine apparent friend, when in fact he is my brother
and my enemy, the reall pollicy that (as Queene of a
mighty people, and ruler above every other which then
did reigne i' th' bounds o' Europe, Asia, or Americ) Eliza-
beth pursued in relation to this matter, which is now mis-
understood, with other diverse subjects.

This rule is as follows: Keyes are placed usually in
the same portion with joining words, that shewe which
parts had stood in juxtaposition. The parts are to stand
as in that former or originall worke. When these are all
joined together, you have those plaies, or prose historic,
poems, (the Uliad o' Homer is concealed within the Cipher
with Virgil his ^Eneid) and so forth. I give in this man-
ner many of the principall themes and plans, but in the
Cipher you have the directions for writing the same.

I must have a trustworthie decipherer, a true writer,
and readie interpreter, or the best of my work will never
have neede of a printer. This is my onely manner of
shewing out my true name, but it is well that my many

NATURAL HISTORY. 361

valued books have given the name which I bear worthiest
renoune or I might loose my immortall honors the fame
that I would winne.

When this worke is finished, you must returne t' the
place upon page two-hundred fifty-one, and finde th' secret
story begun in Ce'tury Ten. The keyes are Paris, glove,
favour, embassador, French, lady, lord, childhood, king,
queene, child, love and wounds.

The storie of my secret mission is thus begunne, for as
hath beene said, I was intrusted at that very time with
businesse requiring great secrecy and expediency. This
was soe well conducted as to winne the Queene's frank ap-
provall, and I had a livelie hope by meanes of this enter-
ing wedge to be follow'd by the request nearest unto my
soule [I] should so bende Her Majestie's minde to my
wish. Sir Amyias Paulet undertooke to negotiate both
treaties at once, and came thereby very near to a breach
with the Queene, ,as well as disgrace at Henrie's Court.
Both calamities, however, were averted by such admirable
adroitnesse that I could but yield due respect to the finesse,
while discomforted by th' death of my hope.

From that day I lived a doub'full life, swinging like a
pendent branch to and fro, or tempest toss'd by manie a
troublous desire. At length I turned my attention from
love, and used all my time and wit to make such advance-
ment in learning or atchieve such great profici(ci)ency in
studies that my name as a lover of Sciences should bee best
known and most honour'd, lesse for m' owne agrandizement
than as an advantaging of mankind, but with some naturall
desires to approove my worthinesse in th' sight o' my booke-
loving and aspiring mother, beleeving that by thus doing
I should advance my claime and obtayne my rights, not

362 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OP FRANCIS BACON.

aware of Cecill, his misapplied zeale in bringing this to
Her Majestie's notice, to convinc' her minde that I had
noe other thought save a designe to winne sovraigntie in
her life-time.

I neede not assert how farre this was from my heart at
any time, especiallie in my youth, but th' Queene's jeal-
ousie so blinded her reason that she, Mowing th' sugges-
tion of malice, shewed little pride in my attempts, discov-
ering in truth more envie then naturall pride, and more
hate than affection.

A little while therafter her troubles concerning Mary
of Scots began, and nothing else had such exceeding in-
teresse in her eyes as th' least trifle of airey nothingnesse
which came to us regarding her cousin.* a wish to goe
thither took possession of her, and she was almost per-
swaded, I am well assur'd, to goe to Scotland with a gentle-
man from that Court in the disguise of a youth, as page to
the gaye Courtier, whilst her chamber should, in her ab-
sence, be closed as though suf'ring so much payne as that
it compelled her to deny audience to everie person save
Lady Strafford and th' physitian.

But this foolish plann died ere it was brought to ful-
nesse of time, thereby making it apparent that at second
thought her wisedome doth exceede idole curiositie.

For yeares th' wish lay quiescent. Soone, in truth, the
Queene came hither requesting a safe conduct into France.
This being harshly refus'd, th' ministers thinking it more
prudent at that time to allowe her such sure shelter in our
owne countrey that she should be safe from her enemies,
whilst in England, this poor Queene was moov'd from one
castle to another, but was not as yet, brought before Eliza-
beth.

*Shortly after the return of her rival to her native land

This MS. line omitted from the original. See Rawley's Explanation

NATURAL HISTORY. 363

Againe a desire to looke on the face of her foe stirr'd
in her, so that newe curiosity made her inquire of all who
knew the lady concerning her beautie, hight, colour of
hair, qualitie of her voyce, et csetera, verie like to the fam-
ous ^Egyptian Queene regarding Octavia, and, to gratify
her consumi'g desire it was soone arrang'd by my ill-advis'd
father to give Her Majestic a sight of this Queene whilst
supping in quiet by invitation at his owne house.

Elizabeth, angered by hearing what pass'd betweene
Queene Mary and my father, stept forth quickly, discov'r-
ing herselfe and administ'red a reproofe my father under-
stood farre better then Queene Mary could. "Tis a subject
of wonder that it did not signe both death warrants, for
th' trouble that was spoken of in this matter was constantly
increasing evidence that a Cypher us'd in Mary's forraine
correspondence had beene the medium by which a com-
plai'te had beene made of her treatment, and pleas widelie
disseminated for assistance.

The Queene set mee at discyph'ring this, nor can I
deny, indeed, that it grew so clear that it would glimmer
through the dullest of eies that the imprisoned Queene did
not intende anything short of her owne proper enthroniza-
tion. She did affect greatly both France and Spaine,
partly because of her religion, and partly, in respect of
France, because of her brief, but happy union formerly
with Francis Second, a brother of Henry, th' soveraigne
then on th' throne. And whilst many of the- epistles were
difficult, and to me impossible, not having th' keie, to
decypher, my labor had better fruits then I on my owne
part wish'd, for I had a secret sympathy for this poor wan-
derer although by no menes interesting or engaging my-
selfe on anie dangerous chance.

364 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

As I have said elsewhere in th' principall Cypher, Her
Majesty had suspected me of open* assistance when in th'
sunnie land of France. In truth that disagreeable insinu-
ation had much to doe with her decision respecti'g my
owne marriage, not a wante of fitnesse in the parties. How-
ever, no act or written word could bee produc'd in proof,
or cited to shew that I had ever had such sympathy, that
it was shewn eithe' openly or privately to herself e; the
jealous suspicions died away and my assistance as adviser,
and I may say valuable counselour, was earnestlie desired.

'Tis a grievous fault, I, [ay] a dreadfull crime, to con-
spire as Marie of Scots did against a great Queene. Th'
very power and grandeur awakeneth a reverence or a ven-
eration in th' heart, and give a sovereigne much in comon
with our Supreme Ruler, it must not be soe inquir'd of.

Elizabeth, thereunto prompted by her prudent advis-
ers, at length adopted a policie soe mild in its nature that
her foe could no' make just complaint, and th' matter then
rested quiet a short time.

Her Majestic soften'd so much towards my unthinking
father, that instead o' driving him away implacably, she
gave him command at once of her army in f oreigne warres,
and disspatcht him as Master o' th' Horse of Her Majes-
tie's army in th' Netherlands.

A short respite followed, and had Queene Mary bin
warn'd by th' experiences of her very great danger, calam-
ity might doubtlesslie have beene finally avoyded; for th'
divided minde of Her Majestic, swaying now here, now
there, at no time long clung to revengeful intents. In
such incertainty was she, that a report of words that might
be conster'd as spoken with t'reat or malice, another, f olow-

NATURAL HISTORY. 365

ing it, should be set downe because of its kir^dnesse and
forbearrance.

Such, however, was by no meanes Lord Burleigh's man-
ner. In truth, soe determin'd was hee not onelie that
sentence o' death should surely bee pronounc'd against her
when she was brought to triall, if triall that may bee
entitul'd, when th' haplesse prisoner must needs chose
from the counsell of her foe to obtaine any defender in
th' proceedings, but, likewise, that th' harsh se'tence
should not lingr i' execution.

Soone there was a secret interview betweene Lord Bur-
leigh [and] Earle of Leicester, to which was summoned
the Queene's Secretary who was so threaten' d by his lord-
ship on paine of death, et caetera, th' poor fool that hee
sign'd for the Queene, and affixed th' great seale to the
dreadful death-warrant.

The life of the Secretarie was forfeit to the deede when
Her Majesty became aware that so daring a crime had
beene committed, but who shall say that the blow fell on
the guilty head; for, truth to say, Davison was onely a
poor feeble instrumment in their handds, and life seem'd
to hang in th' ballance, therefore blame doth fall on those
men, great and noble though they be, who led him to his
death.

This sheweth any who have thought Elizabeth too
severe to her cousin that, though she had prudence suffi-
ciente to keepe her arch-enemie in seclusion, by no meanes
was th' heart in that faire bosom so flintie as to send th'
unfortunate woman to her death before her time.

The Duke of Norfolk, it is quite true, lost his life
through too much zeale to Mary's cause, united, it is said,

366 BI-LITERAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

or springing from, a rash desire to wed the lady, notwith-
standing th' charges that were preferr'd against her. How-
ever, th' removall of one duke was but a smal mater com-
par'd with that of a Queene. A man's head stood some-
what tickle on th' shoulders then, nor did hee thinke his
life hard or cruell were such exit provided him.

But to return to the narration, which is a paiiifull
theame to me now as in that sad time, and furnish'd me
th' subject matter of one o' my Cypher tragedy s that may
be found and written by aide of this argument, this war-
rant of death reach'd Fotheringay much sooner then it was
expected by anie there attendant upon the wro'gly accused
Queene for whatever [her] fault, it is know'e that all plots
in her favour against the life of the Queene, my mother,
had their origine outside of England, but being the center
thereof whether cognisant of them or not she would, by
th' lawe, be attaint of treason.

Furthermore, being(g) Catholick, she held th' divorce
of Henry Eight from Queene Katherine unlawfull, in
verie truth, and unjust; his marriage with Anne Bolyne,
therefore, could but bee an unsanctified union and their
children bastards. Granting th' premise, Mary of Scots
should have succeeded Mary of England.

Againe I have somewhat digress'd, but the theame is soe
heavy I cannot follow it without taking short respite at
intervalls. At the appointed time on that sadd daie, Mary
enter'd the great hall of her prison-castle, which for this
occasion we ree-draped in blacke, wearing a Ion' mourning
cloake that cover'd her from head to foote; with her were
her attendants. The executioner, likewise in mourning,
stood in silence by the blocke, and dispos'd in paires about

NATURAL HISTORY. 367

the room, were the English Lords, Kent, Shrewsbury, Mon-
tague and Derby idlie conversing.*

The Queene looked pale from want o' rest but was
calme and compos'd. She ask'd for the services of her
owne priest; it was refus'd with needlesse sternnesse. She
spake little more, pray'd in cleare tones for some minutes,
commended to God her suffering soule, to Phillip of Spaine
th' quarrel! with England and her clayme to the throne.
Then she stept forward letting the cloake slide to the floor
and stoode up before them in a robe of brave bloud-red,
and in that sweete, winsome waye most naturall to a
woman and to her in highest degree, she bade her waiting
women farewell, thanked Lord Montague who had spoken
for her when th' lords sat in councell and bade him adieu.
Afterward there came a moment of hesitation, onely a
minute, possibly for silente invocation, then she spake
graciously to each one in her presence and was ledd to
the blocke.

So ended Marie of Scots, but her sad story is set downe
herein, and in my heart her beautie still liveth as fresh as
if she were yet amongst the living.

As hath beene said, this is hidden in th' works in th'
form of a tragedie of such interesse that I urge upon my
discyp'rer th' oft repeated wish for a carefull rend'ring of
my work. To such an one our worke is left nor can I
beleeve it lost. In hope, such as doth inspire the hearts
of all those who commit their labours to th' future, I leave
you my name and labours.

FRA. SAINT ALBAN.

868 BI-LITBRAL CYPHER OF FRANCIS BACON.

His lordship's part endeth here and I add but a fewe
lines to speake of th' errata. Some words have [been] left
out, now and then one repeated th' syllables and letters
are also thus do sometimes appear, sometimes have
straj'd from sight; but I trust the greater number of these
mistakes to your discretion. Yet one statement should be
changed for a manuscript line omitted hurteth the sense.
On page two-hundredth and sixty-five, speaking of Her
Majesty, reade : "Shortly after the return of her rivall to
her native land, desire to go thither, et caetera." This no
(do) doubt is the chiefe thing omitted, but I thinke
proper under the existing circumstances, not wishin' (that)
his lordship's much priz'd epistle to make a beggarly entry,
to sett you right in order that we may correct other
errours.

Respectfully your faithfull fellowe worker,

WILLIAM RAWLEY.

APPENDIX.

IRREGULAR PAGING OP ORIGINAL EDITIONS.

Advancement of Learning. Book I. Pages 16, 18, 34 occur twice;

17, 19, 24 are missing.

Book II. Pages 6, 33, 79, 93, 94, 103 occur twice; 70, 99 occur
three times; 69, 74 occur four times; 73, 105 mis-
placed; 9 missing.

Spenser's Faerie Queene. Pages 10, 23 occur twice; 8, 33 missing.

Shakespeare Plays

Merry Wives of Windsor. Pages 51, 58 occur twice; 50, 59

missing.

Comedy of Errors. Page 88 occurs twice; 86 missing.
Midsummer Night's Dream. Pages 151, 163 occur twice; 153,

161 missing.

Merchant of Venice. Pages read 163, 162, 163, 166.
As You Like It. Page 187 occurs twice; 189 missing.
Taming of the Shrew. Page 212 occurs twice; 214 missing.
All Is Well. Pages 251, 252 occur twice; 249, 250 missing.
Twelfth Night. Page 273 occurs twice; 265 missing.
Henry IV. Part I. Pages read 46, 49.
Henry IV. Part II. Pages 91, 92 occur twice; 89, 90 miss-
ing.
Henry VI. Part III. Pages 167, 168 occur twice; 165, 166

missing.

Henry VIII. Page 218 occurs twice; 216 missing.
Troilus and Cressida. Only two pages numbered 79, 80.
Romeo and Juliet. Last two pages read 76, 79; missing, 77,

78. In deciphering after 76 of R. and J. use 78 and

79 of T. and C., then 79 of R. and J.
Timon of Athens. Pages 81, 82 occur twice.
Hamlet. Next after page 156 is 257. Page 259 occurs twice;

279 missing.

King Lear. Page 308 reads 38.
Cymbeline. Page 389 occurs twice; 379 missing. Page 390

APPENDIX.

Anatomy of Melancholy (1628)

Democritus to Reader. Pages 39, 40 occur twice.
Anatomy. Pages 62, 78, 79, 86, 88, 89, 91, 114, 115, 251, 259,
583, 584 occur twice. Page 359 stands in place of
360; Pages 66, 96, 98, 99, 101, 214, 215, 351, 359
missing.

De Augmentis. Pages 67, 104, 273, 276, 284, 357, 361, 387, 396 occur
twice; 187, 204, 248, 372, 376, 369, 383, 386, 537
missing.

Natural History. Page 39 occurs twice; 35 missing.

In deciphering, the pages of the same number must be joined
for connected narrative. If a page occurs numbered ahead of its
order, omit until its proper number is reached, and decipher in
advance of its duplicate. If a page occurs numbered later than its
regular order, it must be brought forward and follow its dupli-
cates in the order they occur in the books.

Some of the irregularities are printer's errors, but most of
them are to bring pages together that were misplaced to further
hide the Cipher.

SPENSER.

" Spenser's ' Shepheardes Calender ' was in its day a book of
great interest, not only because it made tbe world acquainted
with ' the new poet,' but also because it contained allusions to
personages of distinction well known, and to circumstances
familiar to everybody. From 1579-97, in a space of eighteen
years, it passed through five different editions.

In our days the little book is still interesting, but for other
reasons. Firstly, as the earliest work of importance by the
writer of 'The Faerie Queen.' Secondly, because, as Dean
Church in his ' Life of Spenser ' appropriately observes, it
marks a ' turning-point ' in the history of English literature ;
twenty years had passed since the publication of Tottel's Mis-
cellany, and the appearance of the ' Shepheardes Calender '
gave a new impulse to English Poetry. Thirdly, from the
mysterious circumstances connected with its publication."

The following are some of the " mysterious circumstances" :
On December 5th, 1579, "The Shepheardes Calender" was
entered at Stationers' Hall, under the name of Hugh Singleton,
according to the following transcript :

Hughe Singleton ; Lycenced unto him the Shepperdes Calender con-
teyninge xij eclogues proportionable to the xij monethes vjd.

Neither in the entry nor on title page is the author's name
mentioned, but on its verso some dedicatory verses are signed
" Immerito."

This edition is dedicated, or " Entitled to the Noble and
Vertuous Gentlemen, most worthy of all titles, both of learning
and chevalrie, M. Philip Sidney." " Printed by Hugh Singleton,
dwelling in Creede Lane neere unto Ludgate at the signe of the
gylden Tunne, and are there to be solde."

Four copies of this edition are known to exist :

1. No. 11,532 of the Grenville collection of the British

Museum.

2. In the Bodleian Library, Oxford.

3. No. 293 Capell, T. 9, in Library of Trinity College,

Cambridge.

4. No. 427 of the Huth Library.

The next four editions are published by John Harrison the
younger, to whom Hugh Singleton assigned the book as follows :

29 October [1581]

John narnson : Assigned over from hugh Singleton to have the shep-
pardes callender, which was hughe Singleton's copie. vjd.

The second edition was " Imprinted at London by Thomas
East for John Harrison the younger, dwelling Pater noster Roe,
at the signe of the Anker, and are there to bee solde. 1581."
This second edition is olso dedicated to Philip Sidney. It is
rare, but found in the Grenville Collection, in the Bodleian,
Trinity College, and Huth Libraries.

The third edition was " Imprinted at London by John
Wolfe for John Harrison the yonger, dwelling in Pater noster
Roe, at the signe of the Anker. 1586."

The fourth edition was " Printed by John Windet for John
Harrison the yonger, dwelling Pater noster Roe, etc. 1591."

The fifth edition was " Printed by Thomas Creede for John
Harrison the yonger, dwelling Pater noster Roe, at the signe of
the Anchor, etc. 1597."

In 1611, together with some other poems, the Shepheardes
Calender appeared for the first time with the poet's name
attached to it ; this volume has the title : The Faerie Queen :
The Shepheards Calendar ; Together with the other works of
England's Arch-Poet, Edm. Spenser. ^[ Collected into one
Volume and carefully corrected. Printed by H. L. for Mathew
Lownes. Anno Dom. 1611, fol. This volume is dedicated to
Queen Elizabeth thus : To the Most High, Mightie, and Mag-
nificent Emperesse, Renouned for Pietie, Vertue, and all Gracious
Government : Elizabeth, By the Grace of God, Queene of Eng-
land, France, and Ireland, and of Virginia : Defender of the
Faith, &c. Her most humble Servaimt, Edmund Spenser, doth
in all humilitie dedicate, present, and consecrate these his labours,
to live with the eternitie of her Fame.

Spenser returned to England (1598) a ruined, heart-broken
man, and died in the January following, tivelve years before the
book was attributed to his authorship, and the above dedication to
Queen Elizabeth.

By what authority is this book claimed for Spenser.

The following lines are from the dedicatory verses of the
fijst edition.

Goe little booke: thy self e present,
As child whose parent is unkent:

* * * * *

But if that any aske thy name,
Say ihou wert base begot with blame:
For thy thereof thou takest shame.
And when thou art past jeopardee,
Come tell me, what was sayd of mee:
And I will send more after thee.

Immerito.

SIR FRANCIS BACON'S

CIPHER STORY

DISCOVERED AND DECIPHERED BY

ORVILLE W. OWEN, M. D.

(WORD CIPHER.}

Sir Brands 3acon's Cipher Story,

The series of deciphered writings from the Shakespearean
Plays, the stage plays of Marlow, the works of Peele, Green,
Spenser and Burton, has reached the sixth book, and others in
process of translation. The character and scope of the mat-
ter so far deciphered, will be indicated by the following

1 SYNOPSIS.

BOOK I.

Francis Bacon's Letter to the Decipherer. 1

Embracing the plan of the work, explanation of methods,
and reasons for writing the narrative in Cipher.

Epistle Dedicatory. 45

To him who shall find the Cipher.

Description of Queen Elizabeth. 56

Ttie Curse. t 61-67

Upon those who have caused his humiliation.

Francis Bacon's Life. 97

Discovery that he was son of Elizabeth. Confirmation by
his foster mother, Lady Ann Bacon.

Description of the Reign of Elizabeth. 154

The Queen's Last Days. 170

Strangled by fiobert Cecil. 184

Lady Ann Bacon recounts to Francis 190

The early life of Elizabeth and the end of the reign of Mary.

BOOK II.

Continues 200
The account of Elizabeth ; the wooing of Leicester in the 202
Tower ; bribes the Holy Friar to take him to Eliza-
beth ; frightens him into performing the marriage cer- 224
emony; plotting the death of Leicester's wife, Ayme 226
Robsart ; Ayme Robsart visits the Queen ; stormy 235
interview ; death of Ayme Robsart. 248

Second Marriage of Elizabeth and Leicester.

By Sir Nicholas Bacon, in the presence of Lady Ann Bacon

and Lord Puckering. Account interrupted by a sum- 250
mons from the Queen. 252

Elizabeth and Francis. Banished to France. 256

The Spanish Armada. 263

Prologue. Phillip II demands, through ambassadors, the
hand of Elizabeth in marriage. The alternative of
refusal, the wresting of the Crown from her " unlawful
hands " by war. Elizabeth's reply to the ambassadors.
Pedigree of the Queen. Appearance of the Spanish
Fleet.

The Great Storm. 377

Bacon's description. Bacon rescues Don Pedro, the Span-
ish Commander.

BOOK III.

The Spanish Armada Continued. 401

Bacon visits the Queen and pleads for his prisoner Don Pedro 459

whom he rescued from drowning. Entrance of Lord 489

High Admiral, -Capt. Palmer and Sir Anthony Cook. 492

Don Pedro before the Queen. Plea for mercy. 493

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd." 494

The Queen " aweary of his speech," wishes to hear the

Admiral's report of the battle, which is described. 495

Capt. Drake tells of the second day's battle. Allegor- 498

ical description giving the names of Spanish and Eng- f 499

lish vessels engaged. Admiral Howard recounts his ' 512

part in the fight. Capt. Drake describes the storm. 526

Capt. Palmer's experiences in the German Seas. 530

Don Martin, a prisoner before the Queen. 552

Bacon again begs for Don Pedro. 558

Enter sailors with letters. 566

" The end has come."
So by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole Armado of convicted sail
Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

Epilogue. 567

Francis Bacon* s Life at the Court of France 571

BOOK IV.

Massacre of St. Bartholomew. 603

Mary Queen of Scots. 631

Francis Bacon recurs to his own life. 650

Hamlet. 652

Discovery by the Queen that Bacon wrote it, and the fate
of the first copy.

Tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots. 672

Queen Elizabeth' 's Dream. 762

Her indignation and horror at the death of Mary.

" Queen. Who hath made bold with the great seal, and who
Hath inscribed my name? 764

Leicester. Your servant, th' secretary,
Brought the warrant to us, the great seal stamp'd upon't.

Q. Then there was a league between you to hasten Tier
Untimely death."

foreign Ambassadors Presented. 765

The Queen explains to them that her savage council have
cruelly slain Mary, and declares her intention to hang
her secretary for insubordination,

Bacon Resumes his "Life in France" 767

Interview between Bacon and Navarre. 771

Prayer of Navarre. 782

Intrigues to effect his escape from France. 786

BOOK V.

Continues Bacon's ''Life in France" 801

Bacon discloses to Navarre that he is heir to the throne of
England, lawful son of Elizabeth and Leicester.
Tells of his banishment and espouses Navarre's cause.

Navarre's Attempt to .Escape Frustrated. 834

The grand hunt ; Navarre's flight.

bacon's Visit to the Huguenot Camp. 871

Report of same to Henry III. and to Margaret of Navarre.
Plan of the latter to escape to the camp.

Bacon Discloses his Love to Margaret. 926

Ladder of cords. Disappointment. Interview with Friar.
Farewell to Margaret.

BOOK VI

(IN PREPARATION.)

Conclusion of Bacon's ''Life at the Court of France." 1001
Anjou's desertion of the Huguenots ; his trifling successes
magnified ; the triumphs or fetes in his honor.
Catherine's revival of " The Court of Love."

Bacon Returns to England.

Stormy interview with Queen Elizabeth and Leicester.
Paulet attempts to negotiate a marriage between Bacon
and Margaret. Second banishment. Visit to Italy.

Bacon follows the Queen-mother to the South.
Public Trial of Queen Margaret.

The Assassination of the Duke of Guise and the Cardinal
of Lorraine.

Henry III. and Navarre join forces to besiege Paris.
Navarre declared Heir to the Throne of France.
Assassination of the King.
Death of Nicholas Bacon; Francis Recalled to England.

Synopsis of "The Historical Tragedy of flary Queen of Scots.'*

ACT I. Scene /.Interview between Queen Elizabeth and Counsellor Francis Bacon. The Law of
Treason. * * * Queen Elizabeth commands the presence of Leicester, who arranges
to bring Mary to his house in London for an interview.

Scene 2 Banquet room at house of Leicester. Leicester and Mary at banquet table. Queen
Elizabeth secretly enters; hides behind statue. Mary proposes marriage to Leicester,
they to be rulers of the French, English and Scottish realms. Elizabeth steps forth,

" Doth Scotland make your Majesty our judge?"
Mary in surprised alarm,

"Alas, f am undone.' It is the Queen.'"

Interview between Elizabeth and Mary; withdrawal of Elizabeth and Leicester.

ACT II. Scene t. In. front of Tower; time, midnight. Stormy interview between Queen Elizabeth
and Leicester; the jealous Queen declares his banishment; thrusts him away and enters.
Leicester in rage:

" m empty all these veins, and shed my blood
Drop by drop i' th' earth ere I will go !
Let my soul want mercy if I do not join
With Scotland, in her behalf.''

Enter Francis Bacon, who counsels a different course. Leicester requests Bacon to
plead for him to the Queen.

Scene 2 Audience room of Palace. Bacon pleads for Leicester; calls upon himself the wrath
of the Queen; takes leave.

" No power I have to speak, I know.
And so, farewell, I, and my griefs will go."
Enter Leicester; begs that he be not banished; Queen repents.
" Restrain thy apprehension; I will lay trust upon thee,
And thou shall find I will preserve and love thee.

I have conferred on thee the commandment of mine army beyond the sea."

ACT III. Scene r. Council Chamber of Palace. Lords seated at table : Queen on the throne ;

Elizabeth announces that Leicester is to command her armies in Ireland. Strongly

opposed by the Lord Chancellor; Leicester accused of treason. The Queen overrules the

council; makes him General and administers the oath.

Scene 2. Council Chamber twelve months later. Queen Elizabeth presents the treasons of

Mary Queen of Scots; gives letter of commission for her trial.

ACT IV. Scene i. Room in Fotheringay Castle; lords, knights, captains, lawyers and gentlemen in
attendance. Queen Mary before the Court; notes the absence of the English Queen;
demands her presence Will be tried by her peers, and not by servants of lesser degree;
Council show warrant. Mary denies the charges; so impresses and moves the Court that
Chief Justice suddenly adjourns the Court to London, fearing that by her eloquence and
beauty she be acquitted
Scene 2. Room in Tower of London; Court convenes to convict Mary; Montague speaks

strongly for her; members cry Guilty! guilty!
\CT V. Scene /.Palace of the Queen, Elizabeth and train.

"Q. E. Fie, what a slug is Warwick, he conies not
To tell us whether they will that she shall die or no.
Ah! In good time here comes the sweating lord." (Enter Warwick.")

He announces the decision of " guilty." Enter Lords of Council; they present Elizabeth
the warrant for Mary's death She does not sign it.

"Q. E. My lord, I promise to note it cunningly;

But here come the ambassadors of our brothers of France and Spain."
Enter ambassadors, who plead for the life of Mary.
Scene 2. Street in London. Enter Burleigh and Secretary of the Queen (Davison); met by

Leicester. All enter a public house.
Scenes. Private room; Burleigh and Leicester force the Secretary to forge the Queen's name

to the warrant for Mary's execution.

Scene ^. Chamber in Fotheringay CastleQueen Mary and maids. Enter English Lords.
"Q. M. Welcome, mv lords.- Why do you come. Is' I for my life?
Lord Shrewsbury. ' Tis now midnight, and by eight tomorrow thou must be made

immortal.

Q. M. How.' My lord.' Tomorrow? tomorrow.' Oh.' that's sudden.
Oh! this subdues me quite.

* % * *

Good, good my lord, if I must die tomorrow,
Let me have some reverend person

To advise, comfort and pray with me." (This is refused.")

Scene 5. Hall of Fotheringay Castle, hung with black. Platform and block at end. English
Lords and Gentlemen, executioner, and assistants.

Enter Queen Mary dressed in black and red velvet gown. The executioner assures her
"I will be as speedy in your death as all the poisonous potions in the world,
And you shall feel no pain."

Mary addresses the Lords, denies the charges, asserting that they shed innocent blood.
"And if you tell the heavy story right.
Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears,
Yea, even my foes will shed fast falling tears.
And say it was a piteous deed to take me from
The world, and send my soul to heaven."

# * * *

(She kneels and prays):

" Oh God, have mercy upon me, and receive my fainting soul again ! Oh be thou merciful !
And let our princely sister be satisfied with our true blood which, as Thou know'st, unjustly
must be spilled ! Oh God, send to me the water from the well of life, and by my death stop
effusion of Christian blood and ' stablish quietness on every side! Let me be blessed for the
jeace I make. Amen." (Rises.)

" Farewell, sweet Lords; let's meet in heaven.
Good mv Lord of Derby, lead me to the block."

(Speaks to Executionei.)
FINIS

PUBLISHERS NOTE.

The present volume, "The Tragical History of Our Late
Brother, Earl of Essex," is published separately, out of its
consecutive order, being complete in itself, and of the most
thrilling interest and historical value, that it may be the
earlier enjoyed as one of the marvels of literature, in advance
of its appearance as a part of the later books of the series of
Sir Francis Bacon's Cipher Writings.

Like its immediate predecessor, " The Tragedy of Mary
Queen of Scots," it has been deciphered from the Shakespeare
Plays, and other works of Bacon, by means of the Cipher
system, discovered by Doctor Owen, through which the hidden
histories are being brought to light.

In the first book of the " Cipher Story," issued in October,
1893, was the astounding statement that the great Chancillor
was the son of Queen Elizabeth and Robert Dudley, Earl of
Leicester; and that Robert, Earl of Essex, was his brother.
Corroboration of this is found in the recently published British
"Dictionary of National Biography," Vol. 16, page 114, under
the heading " Dudley :

" Whatever were the Queen's relations with Dudley before his wife's
death, they became closer after. It was reported that she was formally
betrothed to him, and that she had secretly married him in Lord Pem-
broke's house, and that she was a mother already." January, 1560-1.

"In 1562 the reports that Elizabeth had children by Dudley were
revived. One Robert Brooks, of Devizes, was sent to prison for publish-
ing the slander, and seven years later a man named Marsham, of
Norwich, was punished for the same offence."

This Tragedy confirms the statement.

The Comedy referred to in the Prologue is now being
translated.

"The players that come forth, will to the life present
The pliant men that we as masks employ:
An excellent device to tell the plot,
And all our cipher practice to display."

HOWARD PUBLISHING CO.
March, 1895.

INTRODUCTION.

The work of deciphering the literature, in which the Cipher
of Sir Francis Bacon is found, reveals details of English history
of wonderful interest, which only a participant in the events
could record. Inwrought into this literature was hidden the
" Tragedy of Mary Queen of Scots," embracing Mary's attempts
to gain the English crown, her trial, and her tragic end, written
as a Play. This was published in December, 1894, and has been
pronounced a masterpiece. Portions of it were found in every
play attributed to Shakespeare, and in the writings of Spenser,
Peele, Greene, Marlow, Burton, and Francis Bacon. Although
a remarkable production, it is believed to be the first of Bacon's
writings of historical drama in Cipher, and it is chiefly drawn
from the earlier works and plays, before they were re-written and
enlarged in 1608-17-23, incorporating later histories, and mat-
ters of profound philosophical significance.

This " Tragedy of Essex," obtained from the same sources,
is a later production, and bears the impress of greater skill, more
experience, and far more intense personal feeling. In it are
interwoven most important passages of Bacon's own life. It
explains Bacon's participation in the trial and conviction of
Essex, who had been his benefactor, and the seeming ingratitude
which has so long been thought a blot upon the fame of the
Lord High Chancillor. It was a life for a life! Essex was
foredoomed to death. The Queen sought excuse in law for the
deed ; her commands were imperative :

Queen. * * Robert Essex was
A worthy officer i' th' wars, but insolent.
O'er-come with pride, ambitious past all thinking,
Self-loving, and affecting one sole throne,
Without assistance.

Francis Bacon. O, I think not so. * *

Q. Villain ! I'll set a point against thy breast.
If thou dost not use most dear employment
In what I further shall intend to do.
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint,
And strew a hungry churchyard with thy limbs :
The time and my intents are savage wild,
More fierce and more inexorable far,
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea.
Put not another sin upon my head,
By urging me to fury. O, begone ! * *

F. B. To revenge is no valor, but to bear. * *
To be in anger, is impiety.

Q. But who is born that is not angry?
Weigh but the crime with this.

Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows ;
Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power
Both are alike, and both alike we like :
One must prove greatest.

F. B. Believe this, Madam,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the King's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Becomes them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does. * *

Q. I was not born to die on Essex' sword !

* * In the name o' th' people,
And in the power of us their Queen, we
Will push destruction and perpetual shame
Out of the weak door of our fainting land.
See, here in bloody lines we have set down
And what is written shall be executed ;
Your brother is to die, as his offences
Are accounted to the law.

F. B. O your Grace,

Are not you then as cruel as the sentence?
I know no law, Madam, that answering
One foul wrong, lives but to act another.

Q. Be satisfied ;
Your treacherous brother dies ; be content.

F. B. Oh, it is excellent, your Majesty,
To have a giant's strength : but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

Q. Peace, peace sir, peace.
Were I not the better part made of mercy,
I should not seek an absent argument
Of my revenge, thou present, thou traitor.

Look to it, thou villain,

Thy life's dependent on thy brother's death.
Let our instruction to thee be thy guide,
Under penalty of thine own false head.

F. B. I do partly understand your meaning.

Q. Why then, go get thee home, thou fragment vile
'eruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
'Tis death for death, a brother for a brother:
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ;
Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure.

Synopsis of The Tragical Historic of the Earl of Essex."

PROLOGUE.

ACT I. Scene /.Horns and trumpets sound. Enter Queen Elizabeth with hounds and dogs, returning
from hunt Queen and Huntsman. Enter Earl of Essex and Francis Bacon.
Queen dismisses attendants. Essex announces insurrection in Ireland.
Scene 2 Pa'ace. ^stormy discussion over assignment of commander of forces for Ireland.
Queen to Essex : " Take thou that." (Boxes his ears.)
Essex assays to draw his sword ; defies her and leaves in a rage.
Queen relents, and sends the Admiral and Cecil to call him back
Scene j. Cecil, Solus. Enter Essex ; the quarrel and blow.
Scene V- Queen and Cecil. Prayer of the Queen : ,

" I that never weep, now melt with woe.
That my ungracious son doth hate me so."

Scene 5. Lady Essex' warns the Earl against Cecil. Bacon and Essex. Rival claims to the Crown.
ACT ii. Scene /. Elizabeth and Lords. Queen announces that Essex will go to Ireland.
Dismisses all but Essex, to whom she promises,

" * * * * The next degree shall be
England's royal throne, for King of England
Shall you be proclaimed in every borough,"
Scene 2. Essex ; outlines his puposes in Ireland.

Scene j. Essex and Bacon ; farewell.
ACT in Scene /.Cecil tells the Queen that Essex is returning with an army.

Scene z. Elizabeth walks in her sleep. Her horrible dream. Queen and ladies in prayer.
Scene 3. Bed chamber of Queen ; noisy arrival of Essex. The Queen bids that he be admitted.
" Bless thee, my blessed boy,
* * *

Then, sir, ivithdraiv. and in an hour return^

Ladies in waiting dress the Queen in handsome robes. Essex returns ; Queen embraces him.
He discourses of Ireland and claims the Dukedom of York. (Exit.) Enter Cecil, who
frightens the Queen with false reasons for Essex's sudden return.
Scene 4. Kacon tells Essex of Cecil's intrigues, and bids him fly to France. Enter Queen ;

Shows displeasure at Essex's return, and bids him go to his home.
ACT iv. Scene /.Council Chamber. Queen informs Essex'he must appear before the Councfl.

But if, sir.

You be put in bondage, appeal to us.
And deliver us this ring.
Essex before the Council. Insults Cecil.

Scene 2. Essex commanded to close confinement in his house.
Scene 3. Quarrels with his^brother Francis Bacon.

Scene 4. Queen and Bacon. Bacon pleads for Essex. Interrupted by news of Essex's revolt.
Scene 5. Gate of Essex's House. Lords demand his surrender ; Essex's soldiers surround and

take them away.

Scene 6. Street in London. Essex endeavors to incite the mob to burn and plunder.
Scene 7. Front of Essex's House Essex on walls. Alarms and clash of arms. Summoned to

parley ; descends ; is arrested and conveyed to the Tower.
Scene 8 Palace.

gueen. " Where is the Earl ? "
tcil. "/ the Tower, Your Grace,"
ACT v. Scene /.Order for the trial of Essex.

Scene 2. Queen arid Francis Bacon ; plea for pardon of Essex.
Queen. " Your treacherous brother dies! *

Thy lifers dependent on thy brother's death.
Let aur instruction to thee be thy guide.
Under the penalty of thine own false head.

Peruse this writing here, and thou shalt know
' Tis death for death, a brother for a brother:
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure:
Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure"

Scenes. Star Chamber. Trial of Essex. He denounces Cecil. Essex condemned to execution.
Scene 4. Streets of London. Essex under guard ; axe, edge toward him ; led to dungeon.
Scene 5. Garden of Palace. Lady Essex and child before the Queen ; pleads for Essex's life.
Francis Bacon supports her and supplicates the Queen, without result.

Queen, * * " T II see that he

Be executtd by nine to-morrow morning:"
Scene 6. Dungeon.

Essex. " No bending knee will call me Ceesar now" (Enter Bacon.)
O thou damned cur; ^

Whom to call brother would infect my mouth.
Get thee gone, thou most wicked sir!
*****

Bacon, "/r it my fault that / was forced to plead f
ffirzu much thou ivrongst me. Heaven be my judge "

Essex upbraids him with sharpest scorn. Enter Lord Keeper ; commands Bacon to depart ;
gives commission to jailor. Jailors bind Essex in a chair ; show him the order.
''''Must you iv it h hot irons burn out both my eyes ?
******

Cut out my tongue so that / may still keep

Both mine eyes." (Jailor tears out one eye, then the other.)

' 'A II dark and comfortless!

God enkindle all the sparks of nature

To guit this horrid act .'"

Jailor. "Away with hitnt lead him to the block .'"

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