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read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are, like common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man;

honour to Shakespeare, that in his writing, whatsoever he penned, he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, "Would he had blotted a thousand," which they thought a 5 malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this but for their ignorance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candour, for I loved the man, and do

and, therefore, if a man write little, he had 10 honour his memory on this side idolatry as

need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make

much as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature; had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that some

men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtle; 15 time it was necessary he should be stopped.

natural philosophy deep; moral, grave; logic and rhetoric, able to contend: "Abeunt studia in mores"-nay, there is no stond nor impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out by

"Sufflaminadus erat,"s as Augustus said of
Haterius. His wit was in his own power;
would the rule of it had been so too. Many
times he fell into those things, could not escape

Cæsar, one speaking to him: "Cæsar, thou
dost me wrong." He replied: "Cæsar did
never wrong but with just cause;'
."'4 and such
like, which were ridiculous. But he redeemed

fit studies, like as diseases of the body may 20 laughter, as when he said in the person of
have appropriate exercises-bowling is good
for the stone and reins, shooting for the lungs
and breast, gentle walking for the stomach,
riding for the head, and the like; so, if a man's
wits be wandering, let him study the mathe- 25 his vices with his virtues. There was ever

matics, for in demonstrations, if his wit be
called away never so little, he must begin
again; if his wit be not apt to distinguish or
find differences, let him study the schoolmen,
for they are "cymini sectores;" if he be not 30
apt to beat over matters, and to call upon
one thing to prove and illustrate another, let
him study the lawyers' cases-so every defect
of the mind may have a special receipt.

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more in him to be praised than to be pardoned.

De piis et probis.5—Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages wherein they live and illustrate the times. God never let them be wanting to the world: as Abel, for an example of innocency, Enoch of purity, Noah of trust in God's mercies, Abraham of faith, and so of the rest. These, sensual men thought mad because they would not be partakers or prac35 tisers of their madness. But they, placed high on the top of all virtue, looked down on the stage of the world and contemned the play of fortune. For though the most be players, some must be spectators.

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Amor nummi-Money never made any man rich, but his mind. He that can order himself to the law of Nature is not only without the sense but the fear of poverty. O, but to strike blind the people with our wealth and 45 pomp is the thing! What a wretchedness is this, to thrust all our riches outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate nothing but the little, vile, and sordid things of the world; not the great, noble, and precious! We

good of the earth that is offered us, we search, and dig for the evil that is hidden. God offered us those things, and placed them at hand, and near us, that He knew were profitable for us,

The character and scope of this work of Jonson, is indicated in its title: Timber, or Discoveries made upon Men or Matter, as they have flowed out of his daily reading; er had their reflux to his peculiar notions of the time. The book, in other words, is a reflection upon men and things, 50 serve our avarice, and, not content with the suggested by Jonson's "daily reading." It is similar to Bacon's Essays, but Jonson's thoughts are jotted down as they occur to him, with little regard to logical order or grouping. The unsystematic, miscellaneous character of the book is indicated by its main title,Timber. Jonson uses Timber (i. e. a forest) as the English equivalent of the Latin word Silva (a wood, a crowded mass), which as Jonson explains, was applied by the ancients to those of their books in which were collected random articles upon diverse and various topics." Timber, the crude wood of the forest is thus "the raw material of facts and thoughts:" the "promiscuous" growth, undeveloped by art.

* Of Shakespeare, our fellow-countryman.

He ought to have been clogged. Haterius was sena.
tor under the Emperors Augustus and Tiberius.
Julius Cæsar, III. i. 47.

5 Of devout and honorable men.
Illuminate, make glorious.
The love of money.

but the hurtful He laid deep and hid. Yet do we seek only the things whereby we may perish, and bring them forth, when God and Nature hath buried them. We covet superfluous things, when it were more honour for us if we could contemn necessary. What need hath Nature of silver dishes, multitudes of waiters, delicate pages, perfumed napkins? She requires meat only, and hunger is not ambitious. Can we think no wealth enough 10 but such a state for which a man may be brought into a præmunire, begged, proscribed, or poisoned? O! if a man could restrain the fury of his gullet and groin, and think how many fires, how many kitchens, cooks, pastures, 15 rate? They are pleased with cockleshells, and ploughed lands; what orchards, stews, 10 ponds and parks, coops and garners, he could spare; what velvets, tissues, embroideries, laces, he could lack; and then how short and

all away in a day? And shall that which could not fill the expectation of few hours, entertain and take up our whole lives, when even it appeared as superfluous to the possessors as to 5 me that was a spectator? The bravery was shown, it was not possessed; while it boasted itself it perished. It is vile, and a poor thing to place our happiness on these desires. Say we wanted them all, famine ends famine.

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De stultitia. 12-What petty things they are we wonder at, like children that esteem every trifle, and prefer a fairing13 before their fathers! What difference is between us and them but that we are dearer fools, coxcombs at a higher

whistles, hobbyhorses, and such like; we with statues, marble pillars, pictures, gilded roofs, where underneath is lath and lime, perhaps loam. Yet we take pleasure in the lie, and

uncertain his life is; he were in a better way 20 are glad we can cozen ourselves. Nor is it to happiness than to live the emperor of these delights, and be the dictator of fashions. But we make ourselves slaves to our pleasures, and we serve fame and ambition, which is an equal slavery. Have not I seen the pomp of a whole 25 kingdom, and what a foreign king could bring hither also to make himself gazed and wondered at, laid forth, as it were, to the show, and vanish

only in our walls and ceilings, but all that we
call happiness is mere painting and gilt, and
all for money.
What a thin membrane1 of
honour that is, and how hath all true reputation
fallen, since inoney began to have any! Yet
the great herd, the multitude, that in all other
things are divided, in this alone conspire and
agree to love money. They wish for it, they
embrace it, they adore it, while yet it is pos-

is gotten.

i. e., to incur the penalty (viz. loss of the protection of the Crown, forfeiture of goods, etc.) provided in one 30 sessed with greater stir and torment than it or more of the laws known as the Statutes of Praemunire. These statutes obtained their name from the first words of a writ issued under them; Praemunire facias A. B., etc.-you shall cause A. B. to be forewarned that he appear before us etc.

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12 Of Folly.

13 An article purchased at a fair, a present brought from a fair.

14 Covering, tissue. The deceitful outward show, the (lath and lime, the painting and gill) is but a thin and superficial layer of honor.

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By spoiling those that live, and wronging dead;

That they may drink in pearl, and couch their head

In soft, but sleepless down; in rich, but restless bed.

O, let them in their gold quaff dropsies down! O, let them surfeits feast in silver bright! 165 Whilst sugar hires the taste the brain to drown, And bribes of sauce corrupt false appetite,

His master's rest, health, heart, life, soul, to sell;

Thus plenty, fulness, sickness, ring their knell.

Death weds, and beds them; first in grave, and then in Hell.

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But ah! let me, under some Kentish hill,
Near rolling Medway, 'mong my shepherd

peers,

With fearless merry-make, and piping still, Securely pass my few and slow-pac'd years:

While yet the great Augustus of our nation, Shuts up old Janus' in this long cessation, Strength'ning our pleasing ease, and gives us sure vacation.

There may I, master of a little flock,

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Feed my poor lambs, and often change their fare: My lovely mate shall tend my sparing stock, And nurse my little ones with pleasing care;

Whose love, and look, shall speak their father plain.

Health be my feast, Heaven hope, content my gain;

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So in my little house my lesser heart shall reign. The beech shall yield a cool safe canopy, While down I sit, and chant to th' echoing wood:

Ah, singing might I live, and singing die!

So by fair Thames, or silver Medway's flood,

The Roman god, the doors of whose temple at Rome were shut only in a time of universal peace. In 1642, less than ten years after this tribute was written, the Civil War began, and in 1649, Charles I, the Augustus." was beheaded.

great

The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,

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In music's strains breathes out her life and verse, And chanting her own dirge tides on her wat'ry hearse.

What, shall I then need seek a patron out:
Or beg a favour from a mistress' eyes,

To fence my song against the vulgar rout:
Or shine upon me with her geminies??

What care I, if they praise my slender
song?

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Or reck I, if they do me right or wrong? A shepherd's bliss nor stands, nor falls, to every tongue.

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See how small room my infant Lord doth take, Whom all the world is not enough to hold. Who of his years, or of his age hath told? Never such age so young, never a child so old.

Eeorge Wither

1588-1667

THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION IN A

SONNET

(From Fidelia, 1615)

Shall I, wasting in despaire
Dye, because a woman's fair?

Or make pale my cheeks with care
Cause anothers Rosie are?

Be she fairer than the Day
Or the flowry Meads in May,
If she think not well of me,
What care I how fair she be?
Shall my seely1 heart be pin'd
Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well disposed Nature
Joyned with a lovely feature?
Be she Meeker, Kinder than
Turtle-dove or Pellican:

If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

Shall a woman's Vertues move
Me to perish for her Love?
Or her well deservings known
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that Goodness blest
Which may merit name of best:
If she be not such to me,
What care I how Good she be?
Cause her Fortune seems too high
Shall I play the fool and die?
She that beares a Noble mind,

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If any chance to hunger, he is bread;

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If not outward helpes she find,

Thinks what with them he would do, That without them dares her woo.

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To dead men life he is, to sick men health:

To blind men sight, and to the needy wealth; A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth.

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Though some churls at our mirth repine, 5
Round your foreheads garlands twine,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,

And let us all be merry.

Now all our neighbours' chimnies smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with bak'd meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.

Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap could die,
We'll bury it in a Christmas pie;
And evermore be merry.

Now every lad is wondrous trim,

And no man minds his labour; Our lasses have provided them

A bag-pipe and a tabor.

Young men and maids, and girls and boys
Give life to one another's joys;

And you anon shall by their noise

Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun,
Their hall of music soundeth;

And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things there aboundeth.

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The country-folk themselves advance, For Crowdy-Mutton's' come out of France; And Jack shall pipe and Jyll shall dance, 30 And all the town be merry.

Ned Swash hath fetch'd his bands from pawn, And all his best apparel;

Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn

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With droppings of the barrel.

And those, that hardly all the year

Had bread to eat or rags to wear,

Will have both clothes and dainty fare,

And all the day be merry.

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And whilst thus inspir'd we sing, And all the streets with echoes ring; Woods, and hills, and every thing Bear witness we are merry.

William Browne

1590-1645

BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS, 1613-16 (Book I. Song V)

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Now as an angler melancholy standing,
Upon a green bank yielding room for landing,
A wriggling yellow worm thrust on his hook, 640
Now in the midst he throws, then in a nook:
Here pulls his line, there throws it in again,
Mending his crook and bait, but all in vain,
He long stands viewing of the curled stream;
At last a hungry pike, or well-grown breame, 645
Snatch at the worm, and hasting fast away
He, knowing it a fish of stubborn sway,
Pulls up his rod, but soft; (as having skill)
Wherewith the hook fast holds the fish's gill.
Then all his line he freely yieldeth him,
Whilst furiously all up and down doth swim
Th' ensnared fish, here on the top doth scud,
There, underneath the banks, then in the mud;
And with his frantic fits so scares the shoal,
That each one takes his hide or starting hole; 655
By this the pike, clean wearied, underneath
A willow lies, and pants (if fishes breathe);
Wherewith the angler gently pulls him to him,
And, lest his haste might happen to undo him,
Lays down his rod, then takes his line in hand,
And by degrees getting the fish to land,
Walks to another pool: at length is winner
Of such a dish as serves him for his dinner:
So when the climber half the way had got,
Musing he stood, and busily 'gan plot,
How (since the mount did always steeper
tend)

He might with steps secure his journey end.
Then, as a nimble squirrel from the wood,
Ranging the hedges for his filbert-food,

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Till (with their crooks and bags) a sort of boys
(To share with him) come with so great a noise,
That he is forc'd to leave a nut nigh broke,
And for his life leap to a neighbor oak;
Thence to a beech, thence to a row of ashes; 700
Whilst thro' the quagmires and red water
plashes,

The boys run dabbling through thick and thin,
One tears his hose, another breaks his shin;
This, torn and tatter'd, hath with much ado 704
Got by the briars; and that hath lost his shoe;
This drops his band; that head-long falls f
haste;

Another cries behind for being last:

With sticks and stones, and mary a sounding hollow,

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