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to many favours.orget one on whom 10 I see how yo

vices must prevent me from entertaining any suspicion of your forgetfulness or neglect. Nor do I see how you could possibly forget one on whom you had conferred so many favours. Having an invitation into your part of the country in the spring, I shall readily accept it, that I may enjoy the deliciousness of the scafon as well as that of your conversation; and that I may withdraw myself for a short time from the tumult of the city to your rural manfion, as to the renowned portico of Zeno or Tusculan of Tully, where you live on your little farm with a moderate fortune, but a princely mind; and where you practise the contempt, and triumph over the temptations of ambition, pomp, luxury, and all that follows the chariot of fortune, or attracts the gaze and admiration of the thoughtless multitude. I hope that you who deprecated the blame of delay, will pardon me for my precipitance; for, after deferring this letter to the laft, I chose rather to write a few lines, however defcient in elegance, than to say nothing at all.

• Adieu, reverend fir. Cambridge, July 21, 1628.


If you had made me a present of a piece of plate, or any other valuable which excites the admiration of mankind, I should not be ashamed in my turn to remunerate you, as far as my circumstances would permit. But since you, the day before yesterday, presented me with an elegant and beautiful poem in Hendecasyllabic verse, which far exceeds the worth of gold, you have increased my folicitude to discover in what manner I may requite the favour of so acceptable a gift. I had by me at the time no compositions in a like 'style which I thought at all fit to come in competition with the excellence of your


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performance. I send you therefore a composition which is not entirely my own, but the production of a truly inspired bard, from whom I last week rendered this ode into Greek Heroic verse, as I was lying in bed before the day dawned, without any previous deliberation, but with a certain impelling faculty, for which I know not how to account. By his help who does not less surpass you in his subject than you do me in the execution, I have sent something which may serve to restore the equilibrium between us. If you see reason to find fault with any particular passage, I must inform you that, from the time I left your school, this is the first and the last piece I have ever composed in Greek; fince, as you know, I have attended more to Latin and to English composition. He who at this time employs his labour and his time in writing Greek is in danger of writing what will never be read. Adieu, and expect to see me, God willing, at London on Monday among the booksellers. In the mean time, if you have interest enough with that Doctor who is the master of the college to promote my business, I beseech you to see him as soon as possible, and to act as your friendship for me may prompt.

From my villa, Decemb. 4, 1634,



I CLEARLY see that you are determined not to be overcome in silence; if this be lo, you shall have the palm of victory for I will write first. Though, if the reasons which make each of us so long in writing to the other should ever be judicially examined, it will appear that I have many more excuses for not writing than you. For it is well known, and you well know, that I am naturally slow in writing, and averse to write ; while you, either from disposition or from habit, seem


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to have little reluctance in engaging in these literary (Ts por Owingers) allocutions. It is also in my favour, that your method of study is such as to admit of frequent interruptions, in which you visit your friends, write letters, or go abroad; but it is my way to suffer no impediment, no love of ease, no avocation whatever, to chill the ardour, to break the continuity, or divert the completion of my literary pursuits. From this and no other reasons it often happens that I do not readily employ my pen in any gratuitous exertions ; but I am not, nevertheless, my dear Deodati, a very sluggish correspondent; nor has it at any time happened that I ever left any letter of yours unanswered till another came. So I hear that you write to the bookseller and often to your brother, either of whom, frorn their nearness would readily have forwarded any communication from you to me. But what I blame you for is, for not keeping your promise of paying me a visit when you left the city; a promise which, if it had once occurred to your thoughts, would certainly have forcibly suggested the necessity of writing. These are my reasons for expoftulation and censure. You will look to your own defence. But what can occasion your filence? Is it ill-health? Are there in those parts any literati with whom you may play and prattle as we used to do? When do you return? How long do you mean to stay among the Hyperboreans? I wish you would give me an answer to each of these questions; and that you may not suppose that I am quite unconcerned about what relates to you, I must inform you that in the beginning of the autumn I went out of my way to see your brother, in order to learn how you did. And lately when I was accidentally informed in London that you were in town, I instantly hastened to your lodgings; but it was only the shadow of a dream, for you were no where to be found. Wherefore, as soon as you can do it without any inconvenience to yourself, I beseech you to take up your quarters where we may at least be able occasionally to visit one another; for I hope that you would not be a different neighbour to us in the country than you are in b4



town. But this is as it pleases God. I have much to say to you concerning myself and my studies, but I would rather do it when we meet, and as to-morrow I am about to return into the country, and am busy in making preparations for my journey, I have but just tima to scribble this. Adieu.

London, Sept. 7, 1637.


To the same. . Most of my other friends think it enough to give me one farewell in their letters, but I see why you do it so often ; for you give me to understand that your medical authority is now added to the potency, and subservient to the completion of those general expressions of good-will which are nothing but words and air. You with me my health six hundred times, in as great a quantity as I can wish, as I am able to bear, or even more than this. Truly, you should be appointed butler to the house of Health, whose stores you so lavishly bestow; or at least health should become your parasite, since you so lord it over her, and command her at your pleasure. I send you therefore my congratulations and my thanks, both on account of your friendihip and your skill. I was long kept waiting in expectation of a letter from you, which you had engaged to write; but when no letter came my old regard for you suffered not, I can assure you, the smallest diminution, for I had supposed that the same apology for remiffness, which you had employed in the beginning of our correspondence, you would again employ. This was a supposition agreeable to truth and to the intimacy between us. For I do not think that true friendShip consists in the frequency of letters, or in profelsions of regard, which may be counterfeited ; but it is fo deeply rooted in the heart and affections, as to support itself against the rudeft blast; and when it origi



nates in fincerity and virtue, it may remain through life without suspicion and without blame, even when there is no longer any reciprocal interchange of kindnesses. For the cherishing aliment of a friendship such as this, there is not so much need of letters as of a lively recollection of each other's virtues. And though you have not written, you have something that may supply the omifsion: your probity writes to me in your stead; it is a letter ready written on the innermost membrane of the heart; the simplicity of your manners, and the rectitude of your principles, serve as correspondents in your place; your genius, which is above the common level, writes, and serves in a still greater degree to endear you to me. But now you have got poffeffion of this defpotic citadel of medicine, do not alarm me with the menace of being obliged to repay those fix hundred healths which you have bestowed, if I should, which God forbid, ever forfeit your friendship. Remove that formidable battery which you seem to have placed upon my breast to keep off all sickness but what comes by your permission. But that you may not indulge any excess of menace I must inform you, that I cannot help loving you such as you are ; for whatever the Deity may have bestowed upon me in other respects, he has certainly inspired me, if any ever were inspired, with a paffion for the good and fair. Nor did Ceres, according to the fable, ever seek her daughter Proserpine with such unceasing solicitude as I have fought this 78 xanã idéav, this perfect model of the beautiful in all the forms and appearances of things (Tooldat gag peopfo 2o TWV Aaipoiwv, many are the forms of the divinities.) I am wont day and night to continue my search ; and I follow in the way in which you go before. Hence, I feel an irresistible impulse to cultivate the friendship of him, who, despising the prejudiced and false conceptions of the vulgar, dares to think, to speak, and to be that which the highest wisdom has in every age taught to be the best. But if my disposition or my destiny were such that I could without any conflict or any toil emerge to the highest pitch of distinction and of praise;


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