"But glory how begyling, how fowle is she?
Wherefore the Tragik poet wrongfully exclaymes not: O Glory, glory, on thousandes of men nought worth, a greate name thou haste bestowed.
For many haue lost greate renoune through vulgar false opinion, than which what can be worsse?
for they that falsely be praised, needes must they blush at their own Iaude.
Which if hit may be got by desart, what may they allow the conscience of a wise man, who mesurith not his good by popular fame, but Conscience trouth?
And if to stretch fur mens fame, seeme best, it followes then, to skaut
the same is worst.
But since, as I haue afore tolde, it must nedes be that many Nations ther ar to whom the fame of one man could neuer com, It followes then, that whom yo[u] thought most glorious, in the next climate of the earth seemes vnspoken of.
Among all this I suppose not popular fauour
woorthy of memoriall, whom neyther Judgement bred, nor
stoddy laetes.
But now how vayne, how slippery is noble name. Who sees it not?
which if to honour you refer, an other man makes it.
For nobilitle seemes to be a prayse proceeding of parentes desart.
And if the speche therof make it nowen, they must be noble that be spoken of.
Wherefore if thyne own thou haue not, an other mans Iawde shall neuer make thè famous.
And if ther be any food thing in nobilitie, this I think it only, that it breedes the hauers a constraynte, that they may not degenerate from their auncestors vertue.