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prime youth at schools and universities as we do, | tasted, that the knowledge of good and evil, as two either in learning mere words, or such things chiefly twins cleaving together, leaped forth into the world. as were better unlearned.
And perhaps this is that doom which Adam fell into I shall detain you now no longer in the demonstra- of knowing good and evil, that is to say, of knowing tion of what we should not do, but straight conduct good by evil. As therefore the state of man now is, you to a hill-side, where I will point you out the right what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence path of a virtuous and noble education ; laborious, to forbear, without the knowledge of evil! He that indeed, at the first ascent, but else so smooth, so can apprehend and consider vice, with all her baits green, so full of goodly prospect and melodious and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet dissounds on every side, that the harp of Orpheus was tinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he not more charming. I doubt not but ye shall have is the true war-faring Christian. I cannot praise a more ado to drive our dullest and laziest youth, our fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unstocks and stubs, from the infinite desire of such a breathed, that never sallies out and sees her adverhappy nurture, than we have now to hale and drag sary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal our choicest and hopefullest wits to that asinine feast garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. of sowthistles and brambles which is commonly set Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we before them, as all the food and entertainment of bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us their tenderest and most docile age.
is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. That virI call, therefore, a complete and generous educa tue, therefore, which is but a youngling in the contion, that which fits a man to perform justly, skil | templation of evil, and knows not the utmost that fully, and magnanimously, all the offices, both private vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a and public, of peace and war.
blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an ex
cremental whiteness : which was the reason why our [Liberty of the Press.)
sage and serious poet, Spenser (whom I dare be known
to think a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas), I deny not but that it is of the greatest concern- | describing true temperance under the person of Guion, ment in the church and commonwealth, to have a brings him in with his Palmer through the cave of vigilant eye how books demean themselves as well as Mammon and the bower of earthly bliss, that he men; and thereafter to confine, imprison, and do might see and know, and yet abstain. Since, theresharpest justice on them as malefactors; for books fore, the knowledge and survey of vice is in this world are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a so necessary to the constituting of human virtue, and potency of life in them, to be as active as that soul the scanning of error to the confirmation of truth, whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve, as in how can we more safely, and with less danger, scout a vial, the purest efficacy and extraction of that living into the regions of sin and falsity, than by reading intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, all manner of tractates, and hearing all manner of and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dra- | reason! * gons' teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance I lastly proceed, from the no good it can do, to the to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other manifest hurt it causes, in being first the greatest dishand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a couragement and affront that can be offered to learnman as kill a good book: who kills a man kills a ing and to learned men. It was a complaint and reasonable creature, God's image ; but he who destroys lamentation of prelates, upon every least breath of a a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of motion to remove pluralities, and distribute more God, as it were, in the eye. Many a man lives a bur- equally church revenues, that then all learning would den to the earth ; but a good book is the precious be for ever dashed and discouraged. But as for that life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed and treasured opinion, I never found cause to think that the tenth up on purpose to a life beyond life. 'Tis true no age part of learning stood or fell with the clergy; nor can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great could I ever but hold it for a sordid and unworthy loss ; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the speech of any churchman who had a competency left loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole him. If, therefore, ye be loath to dishearten utterly nations fare the worse. We should be wary, there- and discontent, not the mercenary crew and false prefore, what persecution we raise against the living tenders to learning, but the free and ingenuous sort labours of public men, how spill that seasoned life of of such as evidently were born to study and love man, preserved and stored up in books; since we see learning for itself, not for lucre, or any other end, but a kind of homicide may be thus committed, some- the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that lasttimes a kind of martyrdom; and if it extend to the ing fame and perpetuity of praise which God and whole impression, a kind of massacre, whereof the good men have consented shall be the reward of those execution ends not in the slaying of an elemental whose published labours advance the good of manlife, but strikes at that ethereal and soft essence, the kind; then know, that so far to distrust the judg. breath of reason itself, slays an immortality rather ment and honesty of one who hath but a common than a life. *
repute in learning, and never vet offended, as not to Wholesome meats to a vitiated stomach differ little count him fit to print his mind without a tutor and or nothing from unwholesome; and best books to a examiner, lest he should drop a schism, or something naughty mind are not unapplicable to occasions of of corruption, is the greatest displeasure and indignity, evil. Bad meats will scarce breed good nourishinent to a free and knowing spirit, that can be put upon in the healthiest concoction ; but herein the differ- | him. What advantage is it to be a man, over it is to ence is of bad books, that they to a discreet and judi- be a boy at school, if we have only escaped the ferula cious reader serve in many respects to discover, to to come under the fescue of an imprimatur ?if serious confute, to forewarn, and to illustrate. * * Good and elaborate writings, as if they were no more than and evil, we know, in the field of this world grow up the theme of a grammar lad under his pedagogue, must together almost inseparably; and the knowledge of not be uttered without the cursory eyes of a temporising good is so involved and interwoven with the know- and extemporising licenser ! He who is not trusted with ledge of evil, and in 80 many cunning resemblances his own actions, his drift not being know
own to be es hardly to be discerned, that those confused seeds and standing to the hazard of law and penalty, has no which were imposed upon Psyche as an incessant great argument to think himself reputed in the comlabour to cull out, and sort asunder, were not more monwealth wherein he was born for other than a fool intermixed. It was from out the rind of one apple or a foreigner. When a man writes to the world, he summons up all his reason and deliberation to assist her strength. Let her and falsehood grapple; who him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and likely ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open consults and confers with his judicious friends; after encounter? Her confuting is the best and surest supall which is done, he takes himself to be informed in pressing. He who hears what praying there is for what he writes, as well as any that writ before him : light and clear knowledge to be sent down among us, if in this, the most consummate act of his fidelity and would think of other matters to be constituted beripeness, no years, no industry, no former proof of his yond the discipline of Geneva, framed and fabricked abilities can bring him to that state of maturity, as already to our hands. Yet when the new light not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he which we beg for shines in upon us, there be who carry all his considerate diligence, all his midnight envy and oppose, if it come not first in at their casewatchings, and expense of Palladian oil, to the hasty ments. What a collusion is this, whenas we are exview of an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his horted by the wise man to use diligence, 'to seek for younger, perhaps far his inferior in judgment, per- wisdom as for hidden treasures,' early and late, that haps one who never knew the labour of book-writing; another order shall enjoin us to know nothing but by and if he be not repulsed, or slighted, must appear in statute! When a man hath been labouring the print like a puny with his guardian, and his censor's hardest labour in the deep mines of knowledge, hath hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and surety furnished out his findings in all their equipage, drawn that he is no idiot or seducer; it cannot be but a dis- forth his reasons, as it were a battle ranged, scattered honour and derogation to the author, to the book, to and defeated all objections in his way, calls out his the privilege and dignity of learning. * * And adversary into the plain, offers him the advantage of how can a man teach with authority, which is the life wind and sun, if he please, only that he may try the of teaching; how can he be a doctor in his book, as matter by dint of argument; for his opponents then he ought to be, or else had better be silent, whenas to skulk, to lay ambushments, to keep a narrow bridge all he teaches, all he delivers, is but under the tuition, of licensing where the challenger should pass, though under the correction of his patriarchal licenser, to blot it be valour enough in soldiership, is but weakness or alter what precisely accords not with the hide-bound and cowardice in the wars of Truth. For who knows humour which he calls his judgment! When every not that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty! acute reader, upon the first sight of a pedantic license, She needs no policies, nor stratagems, nor licensings, will be ready with these like words to ding the book to make her victorious ; those are the shifts and the a quoit's distance from him, I hate a pupil teacher, I defences that error uses against her power; give her endure not an instructor that comes to me under the but room, and do not bind her wher she sleeps. wardship of an overseeing fist. * * And lest some should persuade ye, Lords and Com- I was not tili 1694 that England was set free from the
This appeal of Milton was unsuccessful, and it mons, that these arguments of learned men's discouragement at this your order are mere flourishes, and
censors of the press. not real, I could recount what I have seen and heard in other countries, where this kind of inquisition
(The Reformation.] tyrannises; when I have sat among their learned men
When I recall to mind, at last, after so many dark (for that honour I had), and been counted happy to ages, wherein the huge overshadowing train of error be born in such a place of philosophic freedom, as they had almost swept all the stars out of the firmament supposed England was, while themselves did nothing of the church ; how the bright and blissful Reformabut bemoan the servile condition into which learning tion, by Divine power, strook through the black and amongst them was brought; that this was it which had settled night of ignorance and Anti-Christian tyranny, damped the glory of Italian wits; that nothing had
methinks a sovereign and reviving joy must needs been there written now these many years but flattery rush into the bosom of him that reads or hears, and and fustian. There it was that I found and visited the the sweet odour of the returning Gospel imbathe his famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the inquisition, soul with the fragrancy of heaven. Then was the for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Francis sacred Bible sought out of the dusty corners, where can and Dominican licensers thought. And though I profane falsehood and neglect had thrown it, the knew that England then was groaning loudest under schools opened, divine and human learning raked out the prelatical yoke, nevertheless I took it as a pledge of the embers of forgotten tongues, the princes and of future happiness that other nations were so per cities trooping apace to the new-erected banner of suaded of her liberty. Yet it was beyond my hope salvation, the martyrs, with the unresistible might ot that those worthies were then breathing in her air, 1 weakness, shaking the powers of darkness, and scornwho should be her leaders to such a deliverance, as | ing the fiery rage of the old red dragon.-Of Reformashall never be forgotten by any revolution of time tion in England. that this world hath to finish. Lords and Commons of England ! consider what
[Truth.] nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the Truth, indeed, came once into the world with her governors; a nation not slow and dull, but of a quick, Divine Master, and was a perfect shape, most glorious ingenious, and piercing spirit; acute to invent, subtile to look on ; but when he ascended, and his apostles and sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any after him were laid asleep, then straight arose a point that human capacity can soar to. * * wicked race of deceivers, who, as that story goes of the Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant Egyptian Typhon with his conspirators, how they nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, dealt with the god Osiris, took the virgin 'Truth, and shaking her invincible locks; methinks I see her hewed her lovely form into a thousand pieces and as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling scattered them to the four winds. From that time her undazzled eyes at the full mid-day beam; purg-ever since, the sad friends of Truth, such as durst aping and unscaling her long-abused sight at the foun-pear, imitating the careful search that Isis made for tain itself of heavenly radiance; while the whole noise the mangled body of Osiris, went up and down gatherof timorous and flocking birds, with those also that
ing up limb by limb, still as they could find them. love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she We have not yet found them all, Lords and Commons ! means.
nor ever shall do, till her master's second coming ; he Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to shall bring together every joint and member, and play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do mould them into an immortal feature of loveliness injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt I and perfection.- Areopagitica.
familiar without grossness.'* [Expiration of the Roman Power in Britain.)
The prose works of
Cowley extend but to sixty folio pages, and consist Thus expired this great empire of the Romans ; first chiefly of his Essays, which treat of the following in Britain, soon after in Italy itself; having borne subjects:-Liberty, Solitude, Obscurity, Agriculture, chief sway in this island (though never thoroughly | The Garden, Greatness, Avarice, The Dangers of subdued, or all at once in subjection), if we reckon an Honest Man in much Company, The Shortness from the coming in of Julius to the taking of Rome of Life and Uncertainty of Riches, The Danger of by Alaric, in which year Honorius wrote those letters Procrastination, Of Myself. In these essays, the of discharge into Britain, the space of four hundred author's craving for peace and retirement is a freand sixty-two years. And with the empire fell also quently recurring theme. what before in this western world was chiefly Romanlearning, valour, eloquence, history, civility, and even
Of Myself. language itself-all these together, as it were with It is a hard and nice subject for a man to write of equal pace, diminishing and decaying. Henceforth himself ; it grates his own heart to say anything of we are to steer by another sort of authors, near enough disparagement, and the reader's ears to hear anything to the times they write, as in their own country, if of praise from him. There is no danger from me of that would serve, in time not much belated, some of offending him in this kind ; neither my mind, nor equal age, in expression barbarous; and to say how my body, nor my fortune, allow me any materials for judicious, I suspend awhile. This we must expect; in that vanity. It is sufficient, for my own contentment, civil matters to find them dubious relators, and still that they have preserved me from being scandalous. to the best advantage of what they term Mother or remarkable on the defective side. But besides Church, meaning indeed themselves; in most other
that, I shall here speak of myself only in relation to matters of religion blind. astonished, and strook with the subject of these precedent discourses, and shall be
tition as with a planet : in one word. monks. likelier thereby to fall into the contempt, than rise up Yet these guides, where can be had no better, must to the estimation of most people. As far as my be followed ; in gross it may be true enough ; in cir
memory can return back into my past life, before I cumstance each man, as his judgment gives him, may knew or was capable of guessing what the world, or reserve his faith or bestow it.*-Hist. of Britain. glories, or business of it were, the natural affections
of my soul gave a secret bent of aversion from them,
as some plants are said to turn away from others, by ABRAHAM COWLEY.
| an antipathy imperceptible to themselves, and inCOWLEY holds a distinguished position among
scrutable to man's understanding. Even when I was the prose writers of this age. Indeed he has been
a very young boy at school, instead of running about placed at the head of those who cultivated that
on holidays, and playing with my fellows, I was wont
to steal from them, and walk into the fields, either clear, easy, and natural style which was subse
alone with a book, or with some one companion, if I quently employed and improved by Dryden, Tillot
could find any of the same teper. I was then, too, son, Sir William Temple, and Addison. Dr Johnson
so much an enemy to constraint, that my inasters has, with reason, pointed out as remarkable the
could never prevail on me, by any persuasions or encontrast between the simplicity of Cowley's prose, and the stiff formality and affectation of his poetry.
couragements, to learn, without book, the common
rules of grammar, in which they dispensed with me No author,' says he, .ever kept his verse and his
alone, because they found I made a shift to do the prose at a greater distance from each other. His
usual exercise out of my own reading and observation. thoughts are natural, and his style has a smooth and
That I was then of the same mind as I am now placid equability, which has never yet obtained its
(which, I confess, I wonder at myself), may appear at due commendation. Nothing is far-sought or hard
the latter end of an ode which I made when I was laboured; but all is easy without feebleness, and
but thirteen years old, and which was then printed,
with many other verses. The beginning of it is boyish; *. Milton's History,' says Warburton, in a letter to Dr Birch,
but of this part which I here set down (if a very little is wrote with great simplicity, contrary to his custom in his
were corrected), I should hardly now be much ashamed. prose works; and is the better for it. But he sometimes rises to a surprising grandeur in the sentiments and expression, as This only grant me, that my means may lie at the conclusion of the second brok: “Henceforth we are to Too low for envy, for contempt too high. steer." &c. I never saw anything equal to this, but the conclu
Some honour I would have, sion of Sir Walter Raleigh's Ilistory of the World.' This praise Not from great deeds, but good alone; of the acute and critical prelate appears to us to be rather over- | Th' unknown are better than ill-known. strained; but the reader has here the passage before him, and
Rumour can ope the grave: may decide for himself. The conclusion of Sir Walter Raleigh's
| Acquaintance I would have; but when 't depends history is as follows:
Not on the number, but the choice of friends. By this which we have already set down, is seen the begin
Books should, not business, entertain the light, ning and end of the three first monarchies of the world; whereof the founders and erectors thought that they could
And sleep, as undisturbid as death, the night. never have ended. That of Rome, which made the fourth, was
My house a cottage, more also at this time almost at the highest. We have left it flou
Than palace, and should fitting be rishing in the middle of the field, having rooted up or cut down For all my use, no luxury. all that kept it from the eyes and admiration of the world.
My garden painted o'er But after some continuance, it shall begin to lose the beauty it With Nature's hand, not Art's; and pleasures yield, had ; the storms of Ambition shall beat her great boughs and Hora branches one against another : her leaves shall fall off, her
Thus would I double my life's fading space, limbs wither, and a rubble of barbarous nations enter the field.
For he that runs it well, twice runs his race. and cut her down.
And in this true delight, O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could ad
These unbought sports, that happy state, vise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done ; and whem all the world hath flattered, thou only hast I would not fear nor wish my fate, cast out of the world and despised : thou hast drawn together
But boldly say each night, all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and am
To-morrow let my sun his beams display, bition of man, and covered all over with these two narrow Or in clouds hide them; I have liv'd to-day. words, Hic Jacet!"
* Johnson's. Life of Cowley.'
You may see by it I was eren then acquainted However, by the failing of the forces which I had exwith the poets (for the conclusion is taken out of pected, I did not quit the design which I had resolved Horace); and perhaps it was the immature and im on; I cast myself into it a corpus perditum, without moderate love of them which stamped first, or rather making capitulations, or taking counsel of fortune. engraved, the characters in me. They were like let- | But God laughs at man, who says to his souł, Take ters cut in the bark of a young tree, which, with the thy ease : I met presently not only with many little tree, still grow proportionably. But how this love incumbrances and impediments, but with so much came to be produced in me so early, is a hard ques sickness (a new misfortune to me), as would have tion : I believe I can tell the particular little chance spoiled the happiness of an emperor as well as mine. that filled my head first with such chimes of verse, as Yet I do neither repent nor alter my course ; Non ego have never since left ringing there : for I remember perfidum diri sacramentum. Nothing shall separate when I began to read, and take some pleasure in it, me from a mistress which I have loved so long, and there was wont to lie in my mother's parlour (I know have now at last married ; though she neither has not by what accident, for she herself never in her life brought me a rich portion, nor lived yet so quietly read any book but of devotion); but there was wont with me as I hoped from her. to lie Spenser's works ; this I happened to fall upon, and was infinitely delighted with the stories of the — Nec vos, dulcissima mundi knights, and giants, and monsters, and brave houses, Nomina, vos musc, libertas, otia, libri, which I found everywhere there (though my under Hortiqué, sylvæque, animâ remanente relinquam. standing had little to do with all this); and by degrees, with the tinkling of the rhyme, and dance of
- Nor by me e'er shall you, the numbers; so that I think I had read him all over
You of all names the sweetest and the best, before I was twelve years old. With these affections
You muses, books, and liberty, and rest; of mind, and my heart wholly set upon letters, I went
You gardens, fields, and woods forsaken be, to the university; but was soon torn from thence by
As long as life itself forsakes not me. that public violent storm, which would suffer nothing to stand where it did, but rooted up every
[Poetry and Poets.] plant, even from the princely cedars, to me, the hyssop. Yet I had as good fortune as could have It is, I confess, but seldom seen that the poet dies befallen me in such a tenpest ; for I was cast by it before the man; for when we once fall in love with into the family of one of the best persons, and into that bewitching art, we do not use to court it as a che court of one of the best princesses in the world. mistress, but marry it as a wife, and take it for better Now, though I was here engaged in ways most con- or worse as an inseparable companion of our whole trary to the original design of my life; that is, into life. But as the marriages of infants do but rarely much company, and no small business, and into a prosper, so no man ought to wonder at the diminution daily sight of greatness, both militant and triumphant or decay of my affection to poesy, to which I had con(for that was the state then of the English and the tracted myself so much under age, and so much to my French courts); yet all this was so far from altering own prejudice, in regard of those more profitable my opinion, that it only added the confirmation of matches which I might have made among the richer reason to that which was before but natural inclina- sciences. As for the portion which this brings of tion. I saw plainly all the paint of that kind of life, fame, it is an estate (if it be any, for men are not the nearer I came to it; and that beauty which I did oftener deceived in their hopes of widows than in their not fall in love with, when, for aught I knew, it was opinion of eregi monumentum are perennius) that hardly real, was not like to bewitch or entice me when I ever comes in whilst we are living to enjoy it, but is saw it was adulterate. I met with several great per- a fantastical kind of reversion to our own selves, sons, whom I liked very well, but could not perceive Neither ought any man to envy poets this posthumous that any part of their greatness was to be liked or and imaginary happiness, since they find commonly desired, no more than I would be glad or content to so little in present, that it may be truly applied to be in á storm, though I saw many ships which rid them which St Paul speaks of the first Christians, ‘if safely and bravely in it. A storm would not agree their reward be in this life, they are of all men the with my stomach, if it did with my courage; though most miserable. I was in a crowd of as good company as could be found And if in quiet and flourishing times they meet anywhere, though I was in business of great and with so small encouragement, what are they to expect honourable trust, though I eat at the best table, in rough and troubled ones ?' If wit be such a plant and enjoyed the best conveniences for present sub- that it scarce receives heat enough to preserve it alive sistence that ought to be desired by a man of my even in the summer of our cold climate, how can it condition, in banishment and public distresses; yet I choose but wither in a long and sharp winter? A warcould not abstain from renewing my old schoolboy's like, various, and a tragical age is best to write of, but wish, in a copy of verses to the same effect :
worst to write in. Well, then, I now do plainly see
There is nothing that requires 80 much serenity
and cheerfulness of spirit; it must not be either overThis busy world and I shall ne'er agree, &c.
whelmed with the cares of life, or overcast with the And I never then proposed to myself any other ad-clouds of melancholy and sorrow, or shaken and disvantage from his majesty's happy restoration, but the turbed with the 'storms of injurious fortune: it must, getting into some moderately convenient retreat in like the halcyon, have fair weather to breed in. The the country, which I thought in that case I might soul must be filled with bright and delightful ideas, easily have compassed, as well as some others, who, when it undertakes to communicate delight to others, with no greater probabilities or pretences, have ar
which is the main end of poesy. One may see through rived to extraordinary fortunes. But I had before
the style of Ovid de Trist. the humbled and dejected written a shrewd prophesy against myself, and I
condition of spirit with which he wrote it; there think Apollo inspired me in the truth, though not in
scarce remains any footsteps of that genius Quem nec the elegance of it:
Jovis ira, nec ignes, &c. The cold of the country had Thou neither great at court, nor in the war,
stricken through all his faculties, and benumbed the Nor at the Exchange shalt be, nor at the wrangling bar; very feet of his verses.—Preface to his Miscellanies. Content thyself with the small barren praise Which thy neglected verse does raise, &c.
• I have not falsely sworn.
this muta persona, I take to have been more happy Of Obscurity.
in his part, than the greatest actors that fill the stage What a brave privilege is it to be free from all with show and noise ; nay, even than Augustus him. contentions, from all envying or being envied, from self, who asked, with his last breath, whether he had receiving and from paying all kind of ceremonies ! It not played his farce very well. is, in my mind, a very delightful pastime for two good and agreeable friends to travel up and down to
Of Procrastination. gether, in places where they are by nobody known, nor know anybody. It was the case of Æneas and his! I am glad that you approve and applaud my design Achates, when they walked invisibly about the fields of withdrawing myself from all tumult and business and streets of Carthage. Venus herself
of the world, and consecrating the little rest of my
time to those studies to which nature had so motherly A veil of thicken'd air around them cast,
inclined me, and from which fortune, like a stepThat none might know, or see them, as they pass'd.
mother, has so long detained me. But, nevertheless The common story of Demosthenes' confession, that he (you say, which but is ærugo mera,l a rust which spoils had taken great pleasure in hearing of a tanker- the good metal it grows upon. But you say) you woman say, as he passed, “This is that Demosthenes,' would advise me not to precipitate that resolution, is wonderfully ridiculous from so solid an orator. I but to stay a while longer with patience and cominyself have often met with that temptation to vanity plaisance, till I bad gotten such an estate as might (if it were any); but am so far from finding it any afford me (according to the saying of that person, pleasure, that it only makes me run faster from the whom you and I love very much, and would believe as place, till I get, as it were, out of sight-shot. Demo- soon as another man) cum dignitate otium.2 This were cricus relates, and in such a manner as if he gloried excellent advice to Joshua, who could bid the sun in the good fortune and commodity of it, that, when he stay too. But there is no fooling with life, when it is came to Athens, nobody there did so much as take notice once turned beyond forty: the seeking for a fortune of him; and Epicurus lived there very well, that is, lay then is but a desperate after-game; it is a hundred hid many years in his gardens, so famous since that to one if a man fling two sixes, and recover all; espetime, with his friend Metrodorus : after whose death, cially if his hand be no luckier than mine. making, in one of his letters, a kind commemoration There is some help for all the defects of fortune ; for of the happiness which they two had enjoyed together, if a man cannot attain to the length of his wishes, he he adds at last, that he thought it no disparagement may have his remedy by cutting of them shorter. to those great felicities of their life, that, in the midst Epicurus writes a letter to Idomeneus (who was then of the most talked-of and talking country in the a very powerful, wealthy, and, it seems, bountiful world, they had lived so long, not only without fame, person), to recommend to him, who had made so many but almost without being heard of; and yet, within a men rich, one Pythocles, a friend of his, whom he very few years afterward, there were no two names of desired might be made a rich man too ; ' but I intreat men more known or more generally celebrated. If you that you would not do it just the same way as you we engage into a large acquaintance and various fami- have done to many less deserving persons ; but in the liarities, we set open our gates to the invaders of most most gentlemanly manner of obliging him, which is, of our time; we expose our life to a quotidian aguenot to add anything to his estate, but to take someof frigid impertinences, which would make a wise man thing from his desires.' tremble to think of. Now, as for being known much The sum of this is, that for the uncertain hopes of by sight, and pointed at, I cannot comprehend the some conveniences, we ought not to defer the execuhonour that lies in that; whatsoever it be, every tion of a work that is necessary; especially when the mountebank has it more than the best doctor, and the use of those things which we would stay for may hangman more than the lord-chief-justice of a city. otherwise be supplied, but the loss of timne never reEvery creature has it, both of nature and art, if it be covered ; nay, farther yet, though we were sure to obany ways extraordinary. It was as often said, “This tain all that we had a mind to, though we were sure is that Bucephalus,' or 'This is that Incitatus,' when of getting never so much by continuing the game, yet, they were led prancing through the streets, as, “This when the light of life is so near going out, and ought to is that Alexander,' or, “This is that Domitian ;' and be so precious, le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle-[the truly, for the latter, I take Incitatus to have been a play is not worth the expense of the candle); after much more honourable beast than his master, and having been long tossed in a tempest, if our masts be more deserving the consulship than he the empire. standing, and we have still sail and tackling enough
I love and commend a true good fame, because it is to carry us to our port, it is no matter for the want of the shadow of virtue: not that it doth any good to the streamers and top-gallants : body which it accompanies, but it is an efficacious
.-utere velis, shadow, and like that of St Peter, cures the diseases
Totos pande sinus' of others. The best kind of glory, no doubt, is that which is reflected from honesty, such as was the glory A gentleman, in our late civil wars, when his quarters of Cato and Aristides; but it was harmful to them were beaten up by the enemy, was taken prisoner, and both, and is seldom beneficial to any man whilst he lost his life afterwards only by staying to put on a lives; what it is to him after his death I cannot say, band and adjust his periwig: he would escape like a because I love not philosophy merely notional and person of quality, or not at all, and died the noble conjectural, and no man who has made the experiment | martyr of ceremony and gentility. has been so kind as to come back to inform us. Upon the whole matter, I account a person who has a moderate mind and fortune, and lives in the conver
[Vision of Oliver Cromwell.] sation of two or three agreeable friends, with little I was interrupted by a strange and terrible appari. commerce in the world besides, who is esteemed well tion ; for there appeared to me (arising out of the enough by his few neighbours that know him, and is earth as I conceived) the figure of a man, taller than a truly irreproachable by anybody; and so, after a giant, or indeed than the shadow of any giant in the healthful quiet life, before the great inconveniences of evening. His body was naked, but that nakedness old age, goes more silently out of it than he came in adorned, or rather deformed, all over with several (for I would not have him so much as cry in the exit): this innocent deceiver of the world, as Horace calls him, Hor. 1 Sat. iv. 100.
* Dignified leisure