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think ourselves so happy. No, no, Sir, we enjoy a contentedness above the reach of such dispositions, and as the learned and ingenuous Montaigne says, like himself, freely, “When my Cat and I entertain each other with mutual apish tricks, as playing with a garter, who knows but that I make my Cat more sport than she makes me? Shall I conclude her to be simple, that has her time to begin or refuse, to play as freely as I myself have? Nay, who knows but that it is a defect of my not understanding her language, for doubtless Cats talk and reason with one another, that we agree no better : and who knows but that she pities me for being no wiser than to play with her, and laughs and censures my folly, for making sport for her, when we two play together?”

Thus freely speaks Montaigne concerning Cats; and I hope I may take as great a liberty to blame any man, and laugh at him too, let him be never so grave, that hath not heard what Anglers can say in the justification of their Art and Recreation; which I may again tell you, is so full of pleasure, that we need not borrow their thoughts, to think ourselves happy.

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THOMAS CAREW (1598?-1639?)


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Now, since these dead bones have already outlasted the living ones of Methuselah, and, in a yard under ground, and thin walls of clay, outworn all the strong and specious buildings above it, and quietly rested under the drums and tramplings of three conquests;? what prince can promise such diuturnity unto his relics, or might not gladly say,

“Sic ego componi versus in ossa velim." 3 Time, which antiquates antiquities, and hath an art to make dust of all things, hath yet spared these minor monuments. In vain we hope to be known by open and visible conservatories,' when to be unknown was the means of their continuation, and obscurity' their protection.

If they died by violent hands, and were thrust into their urns, these bones become considerable, and some old philosophers would


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1 beautiful ? the Saxon, the Danish, and the Norman 3 Would that I were turned into bones! * repositories

1 dividing means singing in florid style.


honour them, whose souls they conceived most pure, which were thus snatched from their bodies, and to retain a stronger propension1 unto them; whereas, they weariedly left a languishing corpse, and with faint desires of reunion. If they fell by long and aged decay, yet wrapped up in the bundle of time, they fall into indistinction, and make but one blot with infants. If we begin to die when we live, and long life be but a prolongation of death, our life is a sad composition; we live with death, and die not in a moment. How many pulses made up the life of Methuselah, were work for Archimedes. Common counters 2 sum up the life of Moses's man.3 Our days become considerable, like petty sums by minute accumulations, where numerous fractions make up but small round numbers, and our days of a span long make not one little finger.4

If the nearness of our last necessity brought a nearer comformity unto it, there were a happiness in hoary hairs, and no calamity in half


But the long habit of living indisposeth us for dying; when avarice makes us the sport of death; when even David grew politically cruel; and Solomon could hardly be said to be the wisest of men. But many are too early old, and before the date of age. Adversity stretcheth our days, misery makes Alcmena's nights, and time hath no wings unto it. But the most tedious being is that which can unwish itself, content to be nothing, or never to have been; which was beyond the malecontent of Job, who cursed not the day of his life, but his nativity, content to have so far been as to have a title to future being, although he had lived here but in a hidden state of life, and as it were an abortion.

What song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture. What time the persons of these ossuaries entered the famous nations of the dead, and slept with princes and counsellors, might admit a wide solution. But who were the proprietaries of these bones, or what bodies these ashes made up, were a ques

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tion above antiquarianism; not to be resolved by man, nor easily perhaps by spirits, except we consult the provincial guardians or tutelary observators. Had they made as good provision for their names as they have done for their relics, they had not so grossly erred in the art of perpetuation. But to subsist in bones, and be but pyramidally1 extant, is a fallacy in duration. Vain ashes, which in the oblivion of names, persons, times, and sexes, have found unto themselves a fruitless continuation, and only arise unto late posterity, as emblems of mortal vanities, antidotes against pride, vainglory, and madding vices. Pagan vainglories, which thought the world might last forever, had encouragement for ambition; and finding no Atropos unto the immortality of their names, were never damped with the necessity of oblivion. Even old ambitions had the advantage of ours, in the attempts of their vainglories, who, acting early, and before the probable meridian3 of time, have by this time found great accomplishment of their designs, whereby the ancient heroes have already outlasted their monuments and mechanical preservations. But in this latter scene of time we cannot expect such mummies unto our memories, when ambition may fear the prophecy of Elias, and Charles the Fifth can never expect to live within two Methuselahs of Hector.5



And therefore restless inquietude for the diuturnity of our memories unto present considerations, seems a vanity almost out of date, and superannuated piece of folly. We cannot hope to live so long in our names as some have done in their persons. One face of Janus holds no proportion unto the other. 'Tis too late to be ambitious. The great mutations of the world are acted, or time may be too short for our designs. To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray for, and whose duration we cannot hope, without injury to our expectations, in the advent of the last day, were a contradiction to our beliefs. We, whose generations are ordained in this setting part of time, are providentially taken off from such imaginations; and being neces

1 in a pyramid or other monument 2 the Fate who cuts the thread of life 3 noon, middle That the world may last only six thousand years. Hector's fame having lasted more than twice the life of Methuselah before the birth of Charles (1500 A.D.). The two faces of Janus look in opposite directions.

sitated to eye the remaining particle of fu- it. Time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's? turity, are naturally constituted unto thoughts horse, confounded that of bimself. In vain of the next world, and cannot excusably de- we compute our felicities by the advantage of cline the consideration of that duration, which our good names, since bad have equal duramaketh pyramids pillars of snow, and all that's tions; and Thersites? is like to live as long as past a moment.

Agamemnon. Who knows whether the best Circles and right lines limit and close all of men be known, or whether there be not bodies, and the mortal right-lined circled must more remarkable persons forgot than any that conclude and shut up all. There is no anti- stand remembered in the known account of dote against the opium of time, which témpo- time? Without the favour of the everlasting rarily considereth all things. Our fathers find register, the first man had been as unknown their graves in our short memories, and sadly as the last, and Methuselah's long life had tell us how we may be buried in our survivors. been his only chronicle. Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years.? Oblivion is not to be hired. The greater Generations pass while some trees stand, and part must be content to be as though they had old families last not three oaks. To be read not been, to be found in the register of God, by bare inscriptions, like many in Gruter; 3 to not in the record of man. Twenty-seven hope for eternity by enigmatical epithets, or names make up the first story, i and the refirst letters of our names; to be studied by corded names ever since contain not one living antiquaries, who we were, and have new names century. The number of the dead long exgiven us, like many of the mummies, are cold ceedeth all that shall live. The night of consolations unto the students of perpetuity, time far surpasseth the day; and who knows even by everlasting languages.

when was the equinox? Every hour adds To be content that times to come should unto that current arithmetic, which scarce only know there was such a man, not caring stands one moment. And since death must whether they knew more of him, was a frigid be the Lucina' of life, and even Pagans could ambition in Cardan,“ disparaging his horo- doubt whether thus to live were to die; since scopal inclination and judgment of himself. our longest sun sets at right declensions, and Who cares to subsist like Hippocrates's pa- makes but winter arches, and therefore it tients, or Achilles's horses in Homer, under cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, naked nominations, without deserts and noble and have our light in ashes; since the brother acts, which are the balsam of our memories, of death daily haunts us with dying mementhe "entelechia” 6 and soul of our subsis- tos, and time, that grows old itself, bids us tences? Yet to be nameless in worthy deeds hope no long duration, diuturnity is a dream exceeds an infamous history. The Canaan- and folly of expectation. itish woman lives more happily without a Darkness and light divide the course of time, name, than Herodias with one. And who had and oblivion shares with memory a great part not rather have been the good thief than even of our living beings. We slightly rememPilate?

ber our felicities, and the smartest strokes of But the iniquity? of oblivion blindly scat- afiliction leave but short smart upon us. tereth her poppy, and deals with the memory Sense endureth no extremities, and sorrows of men without distinction to merit of per- destroy us or themselves. To weep into petuity. Who can but pity the founder of the stones are fables. Afflictions induce callosipyramids ? Erostratus 8 lives that burnt the ties; niseries are slippery, or fall like snow Temple of Diana; he is almost lost that built upon us, which, not withstanding, is no un

happy stupidity. To be ignorant of evils to 1, the character of deathIn old graveyards come, and forgetful of evils past, is a merciful the old graves were used for new burials. 3 Gruter's provision in nature, whereby we digest the Ancient Inscriptions - A famous Italian scholar of mixture of our few and evil days, and our the sixteenth century, who said: "I should like it to be known that I lived, I do not care that it 1 the emperor Hadrian an impudent coward should be known what sort of man I was.” mere in the Greek army against Troy, see the Iliad or names 6 realizations injustice The night that Troilus and Cressida 3 leader of the Greeks against Alexander the Great was born, Herostralus burnt the Troy 4i.e., before the flood, see Gen., iv and v temple of Diana, at Ephesus, to secure immortal fame. 6 goddess of birth






delivered senses not relapsing into cutting a dependent being, and within the reach of remembrances, our sorrows are not kept raw destruction. But the sufficiency of Christian by the edge of repetitions. A great part of immortality frustrates all earthly glory, and antiquity contented their hopes of subsistency the quality of either state after death makes a with a transmigration of their souls; a good folly of posthumous memory. God, who can way to continue their memories, while, having only destroy our souls, and hath assured our the advantage of plural successions, they resurrection, either of our bodies or names could not but act something remarkable in hath directly promised no duration. Wherein such variety of beings, and enjoying the fame there is so much of chance, that the boldest of their passed selves, make accumulation of expectants have found unhappy frustration; glory unto their last durations. Others, and to hold long subsistence seems but a scape rather than be lost in the uncomfortable in oblivion. But man is a noble animal, night of nothing, were content to recede splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave, into the common being, and make one particle solemnising nativities and deaths with equal of the public soul of all things, which was no lustre, nor omitting ceremonies of bravery in more than to return into their unknown and the infamy of his nature. divine original again. Egyptian ingenuity was more unsatisfied, contriving their bodies

EDMUND WALLER (1606-1687) in sweet consistencies? to attend the return of their souls. But all was vanity, feeding the

THE STORY OF PHEBUS wind and folly. The Egyptian mummies,

AND which Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice

DAPHNE, APPLIED now consumeth.Mummy is become merchandise, Mizraim'cures wounds, and Pharaoh Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train, is sold for balsams.

Fair Sacharissa loved, but loved in vain. In vain do individuals hope for immortality, Like Phæbus sung the no less amorous boy ; for any patent from oblivion, in preservations Like Daphne she, as lovely, and as coy! below the moon. Men have been deceived With numbers' he the flying nymph pursues, 5 even in their flatteries above the sun,4 and With numbers such as Phæbus' self might use! studied conceits to perpetuate their names in Such is the chase when Love and Fancy leads, heaven. The various cosmography of that O'er craggy mountains, and through flowery part hath already varied the names of con

meads; trived constellations. Nimrod 5 is lost in Orion, Invoked to testify the lover's care, and Osirise in the Dog-star. While we look for Or form some image of his cruel fair. incorruption in the heavens, we find they are Urged with his fury, like a wounded deer, but like the earth, durable in their main O'er these he fled; and now approaching near, bodies, alterable in their parts; whereof, be- Had reached the nymph with his harmonious side comets and new stars, perspectives begin lay, to tell tales, and the spots that wander about Whom all his charms could not incline to stay. the sun, with Phaethon's favor, would make Yet what he sung in his immortal strain, 15 clear conviction.

Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain; There is nothing strictly immortal but im- All, but the nymph that should redress his mortality. Whatever hath no beginning, may wrong, be confident of no end; which is the peculiar Attend his passion, and approve his song. of that necessary essence that cannot destroy Like Phæbus thus, acquiring unsought praise, itself, and the highest strain of omnipotency to He catched at love, and filled his arm with be so powerfully constituted, as not to suffer bays. even from the power of itself. All others have






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That which her slender waist confined,
Shall now my joyful temples bind;
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.





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son Francis apprentice to the master of a small bark, which traded into France and Zealand, where he underwent a hard service; and pains with patience in his youth, did knit the joints of his soul, and made them more solid and compacted. His master, dying unmarried, in reward of his industry, bequeathed his bark unto him for a legacy.

For some time he continued his master's profession; but the narrow scas were a prison for so large a spirit, born for greater undertakings. He soon grew weary of his bark; which would scarce go alone, but as it crept along by the shore: wherefore, selling it, he unfortunately ventured most of his estate with Captain John Hawkins into the West Indies, in 1567; whose goods were taken by the Spaniards at St. John de Ulva, and he himself scarce escaped with life: the king of Spain being so tender in those parts, that the least touch doth wound him; and so jealous of the West Indies, his wife, that willingly he would have none look upon her: he therefore used them with the greater severity.

Drake was persuaded by the minister of his ship, that he might lawfully recover in value of the king of Spain, and repair his losses upon him anywhere else. The case was clear in sea-divinity; and few are such infidels, as not to believe doctrines which make for their own profit. Whereupon Drake, though a poor private man, hereafter undertook to revenge himself on so mighty a monarch ; who, as not contented that the sun riseth and setteth in his dominions, may seem to desire to make all his own where he shineth. And now let us see how a dwarf, standing on the mount of God's providence, may prove an overmatch for a giant.

After two or three several voyages to gain intelligence in the West Indies, and some prizes taken, at last he effectually set forward from Plymouth with two ships, the one of seventy, the other twenty-five, tons, and seventy-three men and boys in both. He made with all speed and secrecy to Nombre de Dios, as loath to put the town to too much charge (which he knew they would willingly bestow) in providing beforehand for his entertainment; which city was then the granary of the West Indies, wherein the golden harvest brought from Panama was hoarded up till it could be conveyed into Spain. They came


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1 Zeeland (in the Netherlands)

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