in that of the mind. If this vassal could well serve me waking, it should never sleep; but now it must be pleased, that it must be serviceable. Now, when sleep is rather driven away than leaves me, I would ever awake with God; my first thoughts are for him, who hath made the night for rest, and the day for travel; and as he gives, so blesses both.* If my heart be early seasoned with his presence, it will savour of him all day after. While my body is dressing, not with an effeminate curiosity, nor yet with rude neglect; my mind addresses itself to her ensuing task, bethinking what is to be done, and in what order; and marshalling (as it may) my hours with my work; that done, after some whiles meditation, I walk up to my masters and companions, my books; and sitting down amongst them, with the best contentment, I dare not reach forth my hand to salute any of them, till I have first looked up

* See Bishop Taylor's rules in his Holy Living for employing our time." In the morning, when you awake, accustom yourself to think first upon God, or something in order to his service; and at night also let him close thine eyes, and let your sleep be necessary and healthful, not idle and expensive of time, beyond the needs and conveniences of nature; and sometimes be curious to see the preparation which the sun makes, when he is coming forth from his chambers of the east.

to heaven, and craved favour of him to whom all my studies are duly referred: without whom, I can neither profit, nor labour. After this, out of no over great variety, I call forth those, which may best fit my occasions; wherein, I am not too serupulous of age; sometimes I put myself to school, to one of those ancients, whom the church hath honoured with the name of Fathers; whose volumes I confess not to open, without a sacred reverence of their holiness, and gravity; sometimes to those later doctors, which want nothing but age to make them classical: always to God's book. That day is lost, whereof some hours are not improved in those divine monuments: others I turn over out of choice; these out of duty. Ere I can have sate unto weariness, my family, having now overcome all household-distractions, invites me to our common devotions; not without some short preparation. These heartily performed, send me up with a more strong and cheerful appetite to my former work, which I find made easy to me by intermission, and variety; now therefore can I deceive the hours with change of pleasures, that is, of labours. One while mine eyes are busied, another while my hand, and sometimes my mind takes the burthen from them both; wherein I would imitate the skilfulest cooks, which make the best

dishes with manifold mixtures; one hour is spent in textual divinity, another in controversy; histories relieve them both. Now, when the mind is weary of other labours, it begins to undertake her own; sometimes it meditates and winds up for future use; sometimes it lays forth her conceits into present discourse; sometimes for itself, ofter for others. Neither know I whether it works or plays in these thoughts; I am sure no sport hath more pleasure, no work more use: only the decay of a weak body, makes me think these delights insensibly laborious. Thus could I all day (as ringers use) make myself music with changes, and complain sooner of the day for shortness, than of the business for toil; were it not that this faint monitor interrupts me still in the midst of my busy pleasures, and inforces me both to respite and repast; I must yield to both; while my body and mind are joined together in unequal couples, the better must follow the weaker. Before my meals, therefore, and after, I let myself loose from all thoughts; and now, would forget that I ever studied; a full mind takes the bodies appetite, no less than a full body makes a dull and unwieldy mind; company, discourse, recreations, are now seasonable and welcome: these prepare me for a diet, not gluttonous, but medicinal; the palate may not be pleased, but the stomach; nor

away

that for its own sake: neither would I think any of these comforts worth respect in themselves but in their use, in their end; so far as they may enable me to better things. If I see any dish to tempt my palate, I fear a serpent in that apple, and would please myself in a wilful denial; I rise capable of more, not desirous; not now immediately from my trencher to my book; but after some intermission. Moderate speed is a sure help to all proceedings; where those things which are prosecuted with violence of endeavour or desire, either succeed not, or continue not.

After my later meal, my thoughts are slight; only my memory may be charged with her task, of recalling what was committed to her custody in the day; and my heart is busy in examining my hands and mouth, and all other senses, of that day's behaviour. And now the evening is come, no tradesman doth more carefully take in his wares, clear his shopboard, and shut his windows, than I would shut up my thoughts, and clear my mind. That student shall live miserably, which like a camel lies down under his burden. All this done, calling together my family, we end the day with God.* Thus do we rather drive

*Fuller in his Life of Lord Burleigh, says,-"No man was more pleasant and merry at meals; and he had a pretty

away the time before us, than follow it. I grant neither is my practice worthy to be exemplary, neither are our callings proportionable. The lives of a nobleman, of a courtier, of a scholar, of a citizen, of a countryman, differ no less than their dispositions; yet must all conspire in honest labour.

Sweet is the destiny of all trades, whether of the

wit-rack in himself, to make the dumb to speak, to draw speech out of the most sullen and silent guest at his table, to shew his disposition in any point he should propound. For foreign intelligence, though he traded sometimes on the stock of Secretary Walsingham, yet wanted he not a plentiful bank of his own. At night when he put off his gown he used to say, "Lie there, Lord Treasurer," and bidding adieu to all state-affairs, disposed himself to his quiet rest. Bacon, in his Essay on Health, says, "To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of meat, and sleep, and of exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting."

See in the Sentimental Journey, the anecdote of "The Grace," which concludes thus:-" thought I beheld Religion mixing in the dance, but as I had never seen her so engaged, I should have looked upon it now, as one of the illusions of an imagination which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance was ended, said, that this was their constant way, and that all his life long he had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice, believing he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to heaven that an illiterate peasant could pay. Or a learned prelate either, said I."