Page images
PDF
EPUB

to heale all diseases, that to make a good operation in such and other difficill matters it is needfull that the cause be well understanded and debated, and to know whether that which is to be cured be a simple wound, an ulcer, or fistula, which is the peccant matter, and what oyntment or other medicine is proper for it. And to discerne and understand this thing rightly, what Barber is it (I meane to speake of unskilfull) that understandeth one onely word of Latine, and with much a doe scarce good English. I know very few that can expound the difference betweene Leporem and Lepram. And yet notwithstanding most of their Chyrurgerie bookes are stuffed full of eloquente Latine, and that difficill; yea and the most part of our English termes are verie farre different from our vulgar and maternall speech, in such sorte that whoso fully understandeth not the Latine tongue, yea and also the Greeke, can scarse understand them through which error arise many times sundrie inconveniences. For such asses there are that count every disease to be the pocke. And it commeth to passe because they will never call for the Chyrurgian, who in his facultie is of all men approoved skilfull, learned, and very experte to know how to discerne and understand all the poyntes of his arte without any erring or yet making fault; and contrarily such ignorant idiots which darkely give credite to their owne glorious heads and have no reason, save only their proper will and foolish opinion, and which of a deceitfull argument make a necessary demonstration, do give by their dangerous promises a very fallible hope, disalowing all good writings, if they be not agreeing to their owne opinion. Therefore (say I) such a one ought to be put to perpetuall silence. Thus much shall suffice you, although I might say more, but his ignorance cannot beare it; for it is known to every one, that through their fault they have committed a thousand evils, and yet blush not to say, that they may better kill an hundred men than another to heal one onely; therefore take heed of them who may. And now I will hold my peace, for it is no great honour to write the imperfections and ignorances that might be cald; yea, and if I should say more, it should be said that I speake more of malice and ill-will than to open the truth. But although I yet keepe backe many other things (which as time and place shall serve may be revealed), and although he shall still persevere to speake more of me, yet, sir, you may judge of the whole for you know well what part beareth ignorance and innocency. Wholly offering my humble service to you and yours," &c.

We are told that there are some "mixed letters" partly serious, partly comic. The direction given for this species of epistle is: "First we must pleasantly expresse the merrie jest or conceite that we intend to utter (our honesty and reputation still observed) for that which we write is only to rejoyce our friend. Secondly, to leave a jest or merry conceite, and to change into some other matter, to the end that it be not said that we be altogether scoffers," &c.

"The Example wherein a Souldier writeth to his Captaine. "It is no marvell (redoubted captaine) though you make great account of me, for if I should be in any encounter against our enemies where it were needful to part with blowes, you should see how I would handle my selfe yea, the great feare that I have of it doth make me already to tremble and

;

་།

quake, considering that I never fought. . . . but with the pot and the spiggot. I believe I durst not assault a snaile, if shee were armed with her shell and hornes, for as hardy a fellow I am as ever drew sword out of a bowe case: yea, in such a matter I should love well the sound of the retraite. And if ever you saw a man of warre play better with a two-foote sword, then say boldly that I am a lyar, for I would run with the formost to the forward of a tossing-house there to give the onset. Secondly (my Captaine), all this I have written only in jest; for indeede to say the truth (none dispraised) there is no man in the whole company that more willingly or more couragiously would adventure himselfe in the battell than I would do," &c. &c.

Our friend W. F.'s risibility must have been easily excited, since he thinks this "merie letter" calculated "to provoke to laughter or rejoicing!"

[ocr errors]

The second book of the Enemy of Idlenes' contains translations of letters of various people of learning and distinction. It would be foreign to our purpose to copy these; but there is a brief one which strikes us as one of the best epistles we have ever met with. Here it is:

"Politian to his Friend.

"I was very sorry, and am very glad, because thou wast sicke, and that thou art whole. Farewell."

The following mercantile letter is worthy of perusal. Like many others in the collection it seems to be a copy of an actual letter, as it is dated above fifty years earlier than the publication of the book. "The answere of one Marchant unto another.

66

"In Deepe (Dieppe) the 3 of May, 1567. Right trustie, after hearty recommendations, &c. Yours of the 25 of the last moneth I have received, by the which I doe gladly understand your diligence in the expedition of our shippe which (thankes be to God) is in safety arrived. The merchant of Roane (Rouen) incontinently came downe, who hoysted up the 40 tuns of malmesie at 60 crownes the tunne, whereof I am glad. I intend to send our other ship to Nants, and there to change our wines for wools, which I trust wee shall sell deare: for at this present they are greatly desired by reason that all France is like to be in armes. To give you advise of the estate of marchandizes; as far as I understand wines of Paris are worth 16 pound turnois le tunne, Prunes are worth 1. s. tur. le c. Currants are worth x. 1. tur. le c. Pepper is worth 15s. tur. le li. Wheat in Beauss, is worth 30s. tur. the bushel. Oates, pease, and beanes are worth 14 in Britaine (Bretagne). All kind of fish is good cheape, save onely mackrell; which in all places are had in estimation, that whosoever can make trafique therein, may surely say, Attolite portas ! Therefore I intend at this time therein to imploy some cash. Be assured I will doe nothing wherein I shall not understand some gaine. That which I write unto you take care to keepe secret. And thus God prosper you," &c. The fourth and last book of the Enemy of Idlenes' is devoted to the delicate subject of love and courtship, and forms the most amusing portion of this funny little production. The cumbrous

manner in which our forefathers wooed contrasts strongly with the "soft-nothingness" of modern gallantry, having much more of the iron gauntlet than of the scented glove about it. The love-letter of old times contained no roundabout compliments to the personal attractions of the lady, but flattered boldly and to the face in such phrases as "the great, singular, and incredible beautie which is in thee”—“thou art a verie spectacle of nature's work"—"thy angelicall visage so faire and cleare would lighten a firmament altogether cloudie"-" eyes bright, cleare, and shining, like two starres whose sweete aspects drive away all sorrow and sadnesse!"

"A Lover writeth unto his Lady.

"To expresse unto thee (my deere) the inward griefes, the secret sorrowes, the pinching paines, that my poore oppressed heart pittifully indureth, my pen is altogether unable. For even as thy excellent vertue, beautie, comlines, and curtesie farre surmounteth in my conceipt that of all other humane creatures, so my pitious passions both day and night are no whit inferiour, but farre above all those of any other worldly wight. So excell not thy giftcs, but as much exceede my griefes. Therefore (my sweete) vouchsafe of thy soveraigne clemencie to graunt some speedie remedie unto the grievous anguishes of my heavie heart; detract no time, but wey with thy selfe, the sicker that the patient is the more deadly that his disease is deemed so much the more speede ought the physitian to make-so much the sooner ought he to provide and minister the medicine, least comming too late his labour be lost. But what painefull patient is hee that sustaineth so troublesome a state as I, poore soule, doe, except thou vouchsafe to pittie me? For the partie patient being discomforted at one physitian's hand may have recourse unto another: whereas I discomforted at thy handes can have recourse uuto none, but still languishing must looke for a lothsome death. Consider, therefore, my deare, the extremitie of my case, and let not cancred cruelty corrupt so many golden gifts, but as thy beauty and comelinesse of body is, so set thy humanity also and clemency of minde. Draw not (as the proverb saith) a leaden sword out of a golden scabberd. And thus hoping to have some speedy comfort at thy handes, upon that hope I repose mee till further opportunity."

In another of these model love-letters, to a lady who is styled by the writer "my soveraigne joy," it is set forth that she is judged by the common voice "above all terrestriall bodies," so that his pen trembles and his tongue stammers in the attempt to address her. He manages, however, to say some bold things, as for example: "Ever sithens (since) mine eyes did speculate and behold your great beautie, my heart hath remained so bound and intangled, that of its own free will it hath chosen to be included in your sweet prison." He bemoans the "grievous passions of his languishing corpes," and supplicates that "shee who only, and none other, may send remedy in this case," will relieve him from his "great martyrdome," by

sending a "benigne answere." The reply is, however, as far as may be from any benignity of style. The lady marvels as to what fond cause has moved him to "such presumptuous boldnesse as to interrupt her of her accustomed rest through his abhominable letters and wanton words." It was, she says, "with great paine I could bridell mine ire," and abstain from tearing the letter in pieces. However seeing that the poor letter, not being a sentient thing, could not help the impertinences of the writer, she resolved to spare it, and to vent her anger upon the messenger who had brought it, as well as upon the writer himself, who, as she assures him, will do her "a most unpleasant thing" if he persists in his suit, and a "singular pleasure" if he refrains from it. What success the poor lover ultimately meets with we can only guess at, but he writes again in a still more urgent manner, affirming that his "heavy heart had been its own homicide" had he not been restrained by the sight of that which her white hands had touched. As to the charge of presumption, that was no fault of the poor lover's, but wholly attributable to the "excessive beauty, worthinesse, and benignity" of his "deere and onely mistresse." He congratulates himself that she has withheld her hand from the cruelty of tearing his letter, but as to her command that he should desist from his purpose, that were as difficult as to separate his "deere's" beauty from herself.

But to turn from so painful a topic as rejected love, let us, as our final extract, quote one of the poetical effusions with which W. F. closes his collection of pattern love-letters and his book. We will premise that in two instances we have substituted a word more suited than the original expression to modern ideas of delicacy, although nothing offensive was probably intended by the writer.

[ocr errors]

To vant in verse dame Venus' praise,

that finely featured wight,

Or paint in prose the perfect points,
that hers are due by right.

To show her glittering golden haire,
her forehead featly framed,
Her christall eyes like turtles' true,
no blot that may be blamed.
Her prettie nose in order plast,
her comely cherry cheekes,
Her ivory teeth, her coroll lips

that each man loves and likes.
Her dimpled chin, her milk-white neck,
her brests as round as ball,

Her shoulders straight, her folding armes,
her fingers fine and small,

Her prettie tender touching hands,

her waste as small as wand,
Her bodie soft, her silken skin,
what would you understand?
Her tender sides, her bending knees,
her well-proportioned legge,
Her prettie toes, her inch-broad heele,
her foote scarce cracke an egge.
All these I say by penne to praise
a needless worke it were,
If worthy wight to whom I write
should hap be present there,
For she as farre doth Venus passe,
and Helen too of Troy,

As doth in strength the strongest man
surmount the feeblest boy.

Well thus it is or else not so,

but as she is she resteth;

And he that thus commends her now

yee may not thinke he jesteth."

With this "prettie" portraiture of female loveliness-in one of the old epistolary phrases we bid our quaint and amusing author "right heartilie farewell."

ART. IV. The Old Practice of Gardening.

A most briefe and pleasaunt treatyse, teachynge howe to dress, sowe, and set a Garden, and what propertyes also these few herbes heare spoken of, haue to our comodytie: With the remedyes that may be used against such beasts, wormes, flies, and such lyke, that commonly noy gardes, gathered out of the principallest Authors in this art. By THOMAS HYLL, Londyner. Imprynted at London in Flete strete, neare to Saincte Dunstans Church, by Thomas Marshe. (12mo, 1563.)

A MULTITUDE of allusions scattered through their writings

show us how much store our forefathers in the middle ages set on their gardens. These were indeed sources equally of pleasure and of usefulness, for not only were the flowers much prized for their beauty, but many herbs, now seldom seen in a garden, were cultivated for their medicinal virtues. The medieval garden, indeed, was the favourite resort of the ladies and younger members of the baronial household, who wandered among its alleys, danced on its lawns, and passed much of their time in gathering its flowers to make garlands and bouquets, which were then in great request. It would be an easy thing to multiply citations, allusive to the plea

« EelmineJätka »