Chapter 2

If thou would'st be a _Merchant_, buy this Booke: For 'tis a prize worth gold; and doe not looke Daily for such disbursements; no, 'tis rare, And should be cast up with thy richest ware.

READER, if thou be any, or all three; (For these may meet and make a harmonie) Then prayse this Author for his usefull paines, Whose aime is publike good, not private gaines. IZ. WA.

* * * * *

PREFACE TO QUARLES'S SHEPHERD ORACLES.

1645.

[The Shepheards Oracles: Delivered in Certain Eglogues. By Fra: Quarles. London, Printed by M.F. for John Marriot and Richard Marriot, and are to be sold at their shop in S. Dunstans Church-yard Fleetstreet, under the Dyall. 1646.]

_To the Reader._

READER, Though the Authour had some years before his lamented death, compos'd, review'd, and corrected these Eglogues; yet, he left no Epistle to the Reader, but onely a Title, and a blanke leafe for that purpose.

Whether he meant some Allegoricall exposition of the Shepheards names, or their Eglogues, is doubtfull: but 'tis certain, that as they are, they appear a perfect pattern of the Authour; whose person, and minde, were both lovely, and his conversation such as distill'd pleasure, knowledge, and vertue, into his friends and acquaintance.

'Tis confest, these Eglogues are not so wholly divine as many of his publisht Meditations, which speak _his affections to be set upon things that are above_, and yet even such men have their intermitted howres, and (as their company gives occasion) commixtures of heavenly and earthly thoughts.

You are therefore requested to fancy him cast by fortune into the company of some yet unknown Shepheards: and you have a liberty to beleeve 'twas by this following accident.

"He in a Sommers morning (about that howre when the great eye of Heaven first opens it selfe to give light to us mortals) walking a gentle pace towards a Brook (whose Spring-head was not far distant from his peacefull habitation) fitted with Angle, Lines, and Flyes: Flyes proper for that season (being the fruitfull Month of _May_;) intending all diligence to beguile the timorous Trout, (with which that watry element abounded) observ'd a more then common concourse of Shepheards, all bending their unwearied steps towards a pleasant Meadow within his present prospect, and had his eyes made more happy to behold the two fair Shepheardesses _Amaryllis_ and _Aminta_ strewing the foot-paths with Lillies, and Ladysmocks, so newly gathered by their fair hands, that they yet smelt more sweet then the morning, and immediately met (attended with _Clora Clorinda_, and many other Wood-nymphs) the fair and vertuous _Parthenia_: who after a courteous salutation and inquiry of his intended Journey, told him the neighbour-Shepheards of that part of Arcadia had dedicated that day to be kept holy to the honour of their great God _Pan_; and, that they had designed her Mistresse of a Love-feast, which was to be kept that present day, in an Arbour built that morning, for that purpose; she told him also, that _Orpheus_ would bee there, and bring his Harp, _Pan_ his Pipe, and _Titerus_ his Oaten-reed, to make musick at this feast; shee therefore perswaded him, not to lose, but change that dayes pleasure; before he could return an answer they were unawares entred into a living mooving Lane, made of Shepheard and Pilgrimes; who had that morning measured many miles to be eye-witnesses of that days pleasure; this Lane led them into a large Arbour, whose wals were made of the yeelding Willow, and smooth Beech boughs: and covered over with Sycamore leaves, and Honysuccles."

I might now tell in what manner (after her first entrance into this Arbour) _Philoclea_ (_Philoclea_ the fair _Arcadian_ Shepheardesse) crown'd her Temples with a Garland, with what flowers, and by whom 'twas made; I might tell what guests (besides _Astrea_ and _Adonis_) were at this feast; and who (beside _Mercury_) waited at the Table, this I might tell: but may not, cannot expresse what musick the Gods and Wood-nymphs made within; and the Linits, Larks, and Nightingales about this Arbour, during this holy day: which began in harmlesse mirth, and (for _Bacchus_ and his gang were absent) ended in love and peace, which _Pan_ (for he onely can doe it) continue in _Arcadia, and restore to the disturbed Island of_ Britannia, _and grant that each honest Shepheard may again sit under his own Vine and Fig-tree, and feed his own flock, and with love enjoy the fruits of peace, and be more thankfull._

Reader, at this time and place, the Authour contracted a friendship with certain single-hearted Shepheards: with whom (as he return'd from his River-recreations) he often rested himselfe, and whilest in the calm evening their flocks fed about them, heard that discourse, which (with the Shepheards names) is presented in these Eglogues.

23 Novem. 1645.

* * * * *

COUPLET ON DR. RICHARD SIBBES.

1650.

[Written by Izaak Walton in his copy of Dr. Richard Sibbes's work, _The Returning Backslider_, 4'10., 1650, preserved in the Cathedral Library, Salisbury. See Sir Harris Nicolas' Memoir of Walton, clv.]

Of this blest man let this just praise be given, Heaven was in him, before he was in heaven. IZAAK WALTON.

* * * * *

DEDICATION OF RELIQUIAE WOTTONIANAE.

1651.

[Reliquiae Wottonianae, or, a Collection of Lives, Letters, Poems; with Characters of Sundry Personages: and other Incomparable Pieces of Language and Art. By The curious Pensil of the Ever Memorable Sr. Henry Wotton, Kt., Late, Provost of Eton Colledg. London, Printed by Thomas Maxey, for R. Marriot, G. Bedel, and T. Garthwait. 1651.]

_To the Right Honourable The Lady Mary Wotton Baronness, and to her Three Noble Daughters._

{ KATHERIN STANHOP. THE LADY { MARGARET TUFTON. { ANN HALES.

Since Bookes seeme by custome to Challenge a dedication, Justice would not allow, that what either was, or concern'd Sir Henry Wotton, should be appropriated to any other Persons; Not only for that nearnesse of Aliance and Blood (by which you may chalenge a civil right to what was his;) but, by a title of that intirenesse of Affection, which was in you to each other, when Sir Henry Wotton had a being upon Earth.

And since yours was a Friendship made up of generous Principles, as I cannot doubt but these indeavours to preserve his Memory wil be acceptable to all that lov'd him; so especially to you: from whom I have had such incouragements as hath imboldned me to this Dedication. Which you are most humbly intreated may be accepted from

Your very reall servant, I. W.

* * * * *

ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT.

1651.

[Comedies, Tragi-Comedies, with other Poems, by Mr. William Cartwright, late Student of Christ-Church in Oxford, and Proctor of the University. London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his Shop, at the sign of the Prince's Arms in St. Pauls Church-yard, 1651.]

_On the Death of my dear Friend Mr. William Cartwright, relating to the foregoing Elegies._

I cannot keep my purpose, but must give Sorrow and Verse their way; nor will I grieve Longer in silence; no, that poor, poor part Of natures legacy, Verse void of Art, And undissembled teares, CARTWRIGHT shall have Fixt on his Hearse; and wept into his grave. Muses I need you not; for, Grief and I Can in your absence weave an Elegy: Which we will do; and often inter-weave Sad Looks, and Sighs; the ground-work must receive Such Characters, or be adjudg'd unfit For my Friends shroud; others have shew'd their Wit, Learning, and Language fitly; for these be Debts due to his great Merits: but for me, My aymes are like my self, humble and low, Too mean to speak his praise, too mean to show The World what it hath lost in losing thee, Whose Words and Deeds were perfect Harmony. But now 'tis lost; lost in the silent Grave, Lost to us Mortals, lost, 'till we shall have Admission to that Kingdom, where He sings Harmonious Anthems to the King of Kings. Sing on blest Soul! be as thou wast below, A more than common instrument to show Thy Makers praise; sing on, whilst I lament Thy loss, and court a holy discontent, With such pure thoughts as thine, to dwell with me, Then I may hope to live, and dye like thee, To live belov'd, dye mourn'd, thus in my grave; Blessings that Kings have wish'd, but cannot have. IZ. WA.

* * * * *

PREFACE TO SIR JOHN SKEFFINGTON'S HEROE OF LORENZO.

1652.

[The Heroe, of Lorenzo, or, The way to Eminencie and Perfection. A piece of serious Spanish wit Originally in that language written, and in English. By Sir John Skeffington, Kt. and Barronet. London, printed for John Martin and James Allestrye at the Bell in St Pauls Church-yard. 1652.]

_Let this be told the Reader_,

That Sir _John Skeffington_ (one of his late Majesties servants, and a stranger to no language of _Christendom_) did about 40 years now past, bring this Hero out of Spain into England.

There they two kept company together 'till about 12 months now past: and then, in a retyrement of that learned knights (by reason of a sequestration for his masters cause) a friend coming to visit him, they fell accidentally into a discourse of the _wit_ and _galantry_ of the _Spanish Nation_.

That discourse occasioned an example or two, to be brought out of this _Hero_: and, those examples (with Sir _John's_ choice language and illustration) were so relisht by his friend (a stranger to the _Spanish tongue_) that he became restles 'till he got a promise from Sir _John_ to translate the whole, which he did in a few weeks; and so long as that imployment lasted it proved an excellent diversion from his many sad thoughts; But he hath now chang'd that Condition, to be possest of that place into which sadnesse is not capable of entrance.

And his absence from this world hath occasion'd mee (who was one of those few that he gave leave to know him, for he was a retyr'd man) to tell the Reader that I heard him say, he had not made the _English_ so short, or few words, as the originall; because in that, the Author had exprest himself so enigmatically, that though he indevour'd to translate it plainly; yet, he thought it was not made comprehensible enough for common Readers, therefore he declar'd to me, that he intended to make it so by a coment on the margent; which he had begun, but (be it spoke with sorrow) he and those thoughts are now buried in the silent Grave,[1] and my self, with those very many that lov'd him, left to lament that losse. I.W.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Compare the poem on the death of Cartwright, _supra_:--

"But now 'tis lost; lost in the silent grave," &c.

* * * * *

COMMENDATORY VERSE TO THE AUTHOR OF SCINTILLULA ALTARIS.

1652.

[Scintillula Altaris or, a Pious Reflection on Primitive Devotion: as to the Feasts and Fasts of the Christian Church, Orthodoxally Revived. By Edward Sparke, B.D. London; Printed by T. Maxey for Richard Marriot, and are to be sold at his Shop in St. Dunstan's Church-yard in Fleetstreet, 1652.

This book reached a Seventh Edition during Walton's lifetime; but his Commendatory Verses are only to be found in the first.]

_To the Author upon the sight of the first sheet of his Book._

My worthy friend, I am much pleas'd to know, You have begun to pay the debt you owe By promise, to so many pious friends, In printing your choice Poems; it commends Both them, and you, that they have been desir'd By persons of such Judgment; and admir'd They must be most, by those that best shal know What praise to holy Poetry we owe. So shall your Disquisitions too; for, there Choice learning, and blest piety, appear. All usefull to poor Christians: where they may Learne Primitive Devotion. Each Saints day Stands as a Land-mark in an erring age to guide fraile mortals in their pilgrimage To the Coelestiall _Can'an_; and each Fast, Is both the souls direction, and repast: All so exprest, that I am glad to know You have begun to pay the debt you owe. IZ. WA.

* * * * *

DEDICATION OF THE LIFE OF DONNE AND ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER.

1658.

[The Life of John Donne, Dr. in Divinity, and Late Dean of Saint Pauls Church London. The second impression corrected and enlarged. Ecclus.48.14. _He did wonders in his life, and at his death his works were marvelous_. London, Printed by J.G. for R. Marriot, and are to be sold at his shop under S. Dunstans Church in Fleet-street. 1658.]

_To My Noble & honoured Friend Sir Robert Holt of Afton, in the County of Warwick, Baronet._

Sir,

When this relation of the life of Doctor Donne was first made publick, it had besides the approbation of our late learned & eloquent King, a conjunction with the Authors most excellent Sermons to support it; and thus it lay some time fortified against prejudice; and those passions that are by busie and malicious men too freely vented against the dead.

And yet, now, after almost twenty yeares, when though the memory of Dr. Donne himself, must not, cannot die, so long as men speak English; yet when I thought Time had made this relation of him so like my self, as to become useless to the world, and content to be forgotten; I find that a retreat into a defired privacy, will not be afforded; for the Printers will again expose it and me to publick exceptions; and without those supports, which we first had and needed, and in an Age too, in which Truth & Innocence have not beene able to defend themselves from worse then severe censures.

This I foresaw, and Nature teaching me selfe-preservation, and my long experience of your abilities assuring me that in you it may in found:[1] to you, Sir, do I make mine addreffes for an umbrage and protection: and I make it with so much humble boldnesse, as to say 'twere degenerous in you not to afford it.

For, Sir,

Dr. Donne was so much a part of yourself, as to be incorporated into your Family, by so noble a friendship, that I may say there was a marriage of fouls betwixt him and your[2] reverend Grandfather, who in his life was an Angel of our once glorious Church, and now no common Star in heaven.

And Dr. Donne's love died not with him, but was doubled upon his Heire, your beloved Uncle the Bishop of [3] Chichester, that lives in this froward generation, to be an ornament to his Calling. And this affection to him was by Dr. D. so testified in his life, that he then trusted him with the very secrets of his soul; & at his death, with what was dearest to him, even his fame, estate, & children.

And you have yet a further title to what was Dr. Donne's, by that dear affection & friendship that was betwixt him and your parents, by which he entailed a love upon yourself, even in your infancy, which was encreased by the early testimonies of your growing merits, and by them continued, till D. _Donne_ put on immortality; and so this mortall was turned into a love that cannot die.

And Sir, 'twas pity he was lost to you in your minority, before you had attained a judgement to put a true value upon the living beauties and elegancies of his conversation; and pitty too, that so much of them as were capable of such an expression, were not drawn by the pensil of a _Tytian_ or a _Tentoret_, by a pen equall and more lasting then their art; for his life ought to be the example of more then that age in which he died. And yet this copy, though very much, indeed too much short of the Originall, will present you with some features not unlike your dead friend, and with fewer blemishes and more ornaments than when 'twas first made publique: which creates a contentment to my selfe, because it is the more worthy of him, and because I may with more civility intitle you to it.

And in this designe of doing so, I have not a thought of what is pretended in most Dedications, _a Commutation for Courtesies_: no indeed Sir, I put no such value upon this trifle; for your owning it will rather increase my Obligations. But my desire is, that into whose hands soever this shall fall, it may to them be a testimony of my gratitude to your self and Family, who descended to such a degree of humility as to admit me into their friendship in the dayes of my youth; and notwithstanding my many infirmities, have continued me in it till I am become gray-headed; and as Time has added to my yeares, have still increased and multiplied their favours.

This, Sir, is the intent of this Dedication: and having made the declaration of it thus publick, I shall conclude it with commending them and you to Gods deare love.

I remain, Sir, what your many merits have made me to be, The humblest of your Servants, ISAAC WALTON.

_To the Reader._

My desire is to inform and assure you, that shall become my Reader, that in that part of this following discourse, which is onely narration, I either speak my own knowledge, or from the testimony of such as dare do any thing, rather than speak an untruth. And for that part of it which is my own observation or opinion, if I had a power I would not use it to force any mans assent, but leave him a liberty to disbelieve what his own reason inclines him to.

Next, I am to inform you, that whereas Dr. Donne's life was formerly printed with his Sermons, and then had the same Preface or Introduction to it; I have not omitted it now, because I have no such confidence in what I have done, as to appear without an apology for my undertaking it.

I have said all when I have wished happinesse to my Reader. I.W.

FOOTNOTES

[1] _Sic_: probably a misprint for "_be_ found?"--ED.

[2] _John King, B. of Lond._

[3] _Hen. King, now B.C._

* * * * *

DAMAN AND DORUS. AN HUMBLE EGLOG.

29th MAY 1660.

[Songs and other Poems. By Alex. Brome, Gent. London, Printed for Henry Brome, at the Gun in Ivy-Lane, 1661.

The Second Edition corrected and enlarged, 1664.

The Third Edition enlarged. London, Printed for Henry Brome, at the Star in Little Brittain, 1668.]

_To my ingenious Friend_ Mr. BROME, _on his various and excellent Poems: An humble Eglog. Written the 29 of May, 1660._

DAMAN _and_ DORUS.

DAMAN.

_Hail happy day!_ Dorus _sit down: Now let no sigh, nor let a frown Lodge near thy heart, or on thy brow. The_ King! _the_ King'_s return'd! and now Let's banish all sad thoughts and sing_ We have our Laws, and have our King.

DORUS.

_'Tis true, and I would sing, but oh! These wars have sunk my heart so low 'Twill not be rais'd._

DAMAN. _What not this day? Why 'tis the_ twenty ninth of May: _Let_ Rebels _spirits sink; let those That like the_ Goths _and_ Vandals _rose To ruine families, and bring Contempt upon our_ Church, _our_ King, _And all that's dear to us, be sad; But be not thou, let us be glad._ And, _Dorus_, to invite thee, look, Here's a Collection in this Book, Of all those chearful Songs, that we Have sung so oft and merilie[1]

As we have march'd to fight the cause Of _Gods Anointed_, and our _Laws_ Such Songs as make not the least ods Betwixt us _mortals_ and the _Gods_: Such Songs as _Virgins_ need not fear To sing, or a grave _Matron_ hear. Here's _love_ drest _neat_, and _chast_, and _gay_ As _gardens_ in the month of _May_; Here's harmony, and _Wit_, and _Art_, To raise thy _thoughts_, and chear thy _heart_.

DORUS.

_Written by whom?_

DAMAN.

A friend of mine, And one that's worthy to be thine: A Civil _Swain_, that knows his times For business, and that done makes Rhymes; But not till then: my Friend's a man Lov'd by the Muses; dear to _Pan_: He blest him with a chearful heart: And they with this sharp wit and Art, Which he so tempers, as no _Swain_, That's loyal, does or mould complain.

DORUS.

I wou'd fain see him:

DAMAN.

_Go with me_ Dorus, _to yonder_ broad beech-tree, _There we shall meet him and_ Phillis, Perrigot, _and_ Amaryllis, Tityrus, _and his dear_ Clora, Tom _and_ Will, _and their_ Pastora: _There wee'l dance, shake hands and sing_, We have our Laws, _God bless the King_. IZ. WALTON.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Have sung with mirth and merry-gle:--1661.

* * * * *

TO MY REVEREND FRIEND THE AUTHOR OF THE SYNAGOGUE.

1661.

[The Synagogue, or The Shadow of the Temple. Sacred Poems and Private Ejaculations. In imitation of Mr. George Herbert. The fourth Edition corrected and enlarged. London, Printed for Philemon Stephens, at the guilded Lyon in St. Pauls Churchyard, 1661. p. 67.]

_To my Reverend Friend the Author of the Synagogue._

Sir,

I lov'd you for your Synagogue, before I knew your person; but now love you more; Because I find It is so true a picture of your mind: Which tunes your sacred lyre To that eternal quire; Where holy _Herbert_ fits (O shame to prophane wits) And sings his and your Anthems, to the praise Of Him that is the first and last of daies.

These holy Hymns had an Ethereal birth: For they can raise sad souls above the earth And fix them there Free from the worlds anxieties and fear. _Herbert_ and you have pow'r To do this: ev'ry hour I read you kills a sin, Or lets a vertue in To fight against it; and the Holy Ghost Supports my frailties, lest the day be lost.

This holy war, taught by your happy pen, The Prince of Peace approves. When we poor men Neglect our arms, W'are circumvested with a world of harms. But I will watch, and ward, And stand upon my guard, And still consult with you, And _Herbert_, and renew My vows; and say, Well fare his, and your heart, The fountains of such sacred wit and art. IZ. WA.

* * * * *

EPITAPH ON HIS SECOND WIFE, ANNE KEN.

1662.

[In Worcester Cathedral. The event is thus recorded by Walton in his Family Prayer-Book: "Anne Walton dyed the 17th of April, about one o'clock in that night, and was buried in the Virgin Mary's Chapel, in the cathedral in Worcester, the 20th day."]

Ex Terris M.S. Here lyeth buried so much as could dye of ANNE, the Wife of Isaak Walton; who was a Woman of Remarkable Prudence, and of the Primitive Piety; her great and general knowledge being adorned with such true humility, and blest with so much Christian meekness, as made her worthy of a more memorable Monument. She dyed! (Alas, that she is dead!) the 17th of April, 1662, aged 52. Study to be like her.

* * * * *

LETTER TO EDWARD WARD

1670.

[Preserved among the MSS. in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin. First printed in "Notes and Queries," May 17, 1856.]

_ffor my worthy frend_ Mr. EDWARD WARD, _att Rodon Temple, nere unto Lester. Att_ Mr. BABINGTONS _att Rodon Temple._