He making speedy way through spersed ayre,
And through the world of waters wide and deepe,
To Morpheus' house doth hastily repaire.
Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,
And low, where dawning day doth never peepe,
His dwelling is, there Tethys his wet bed
Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth steepe,
In silver deaw his ever drouping hed,
Whiles sad Night over him her mantle black doth spred.

And more to lulle him in his slumber soft,
A trickling streame from high rock tumbling downe,
And ever-drizling raine upon the loft,
Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne
Of swarming bees, did cast him in a swowne.
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,
As still are wont t' annoy the walled towne,
Might there be heard; but careless Quiet lyes
Wrapt in eternal silence farre from enimyes.

338:

The houses form within was rude and strong,
Like an huge cave hewne out of rocky clifte,
From whose rough vault the ragged breaches hong
Ëmbost with massy gold of glorious guifte,
And with rich metall loaded every rifte,
That heavy ruine they did seeme to threatt;
And over them Arachne high did lifte
Her cunning web, and spred her subtile nett,
Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds more black then jett.

Both roof and floor and walls were all of gold,
But overgrown with dust and old decay,
And hid in darknes, that none could behold
The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull day
Did never in that house itselfe display,
But a faint shadow of uncertein light,
Such as a lamp whose life does fade away;
Or as the moon, cloathed with clowdy night,
Does shew to him that walkes in feare and sad affright.

In all that rowme was nothing to be sene,
But huge grete yron chests and coffers strong,
All bart with double bends, that none could weene
Them to enforce by violence or wrong.
On every side they placed were along.
But all the grownd with sculs was scattered
And dead mens bones which round about were flong;
Whose lives, it seemed, whilome there were shed,
And their vile carcases now left unburied....

Thence forward he him led and shortly brought
Unto another rowme, whose dore forthright
To him did open as it had beene taught;
Therein an hundred raunges were pight,
And hundred fournaces all burning bright;
By every fournace many Feends did byde,
Defourmed creatures horrible in sight;
And every Feend his busie paines applyde
To melt the golden metall ready to be tryde.

One with great bellowes gathered filling ayre,
And with forst wind the fewell did inflame;
Another did the dying bronds repayre
With yron tongs, and sprinkled ofte same
With liquid waves, fiers Vulcans rage to tame
Who, maystring them, renewd his former heat.
Some scumd the drosse that from the metall came,
Some stird the molten owre with ladles great.
And every one did swincke, and every one did sweat....

He brought him, through a darksom narrow strayt,
To a broad gate all built of beaten gold:
The gate was open; but therein did wayt
A sturdie villein, stryding stiff and bold,
As if the highest god defy he would.
In his right hand an yron club he held,
But he himselfe was all of golden mould,
Yet had both life and sence, and well could weld
That cursed weapon, when his cruell foes queld....

He brought him in. The rowme was large and wide,
As it some Gyeld or solemne temple weare;
Many great golden pillours did upbeare
The massy roofe and riches huge sustayne;
And every pillour decked was full deare
With crownes and diademes and titles vaine,
Which mortall princes wore whiles they on earth did rayne.

A route of people there assembled were,
Of every sort and nation under skye,
Which with great uprore preaced to draw nere
To the upper part: where was advanced hye
A stately siege of soveraine majestye;
And thereon satt a woman gorgeous gay
And richly cladd in robes of royaltye,
That never earthly prince in such aray
His glory did enhaunce, and pompous pryde display...

There, as in glistring glory she did sitt,
She held a great gold chaine ylinked well
Whose upper end to highest heven was knitt,
And lower part did reach to lowest hell.

(Liv. II, ch. VII.)

339:

.... No gate, but like one, being goodly dight
With bowes and braunches wich did broad dilate
Their clasping armes in wanton wreathings intricate:

So fashioned a porch with rare device,
Archt over head with an embracing vine,
Whose brounches hanging downe seemed to entice
All passers-by to taste their lushious wine,
And did themselves into their hands incline,
As freely offering to be gathered,
Some deepe empurpled as the hyaline,
Some as the rubine laughing sweetely red,
Some like faire emeraudes not yet well ripened....

And in the midst of all a fountaine stood,
Of richest substance that on earth might bee,
So pure and shiny that the silver flood
Through every channell running one might see.
Most goodly it with curious ymageree
Was over-wrought, and shapes of naked boyes,
Of which some seemd with lively jollitee
To fly about, playing their wanton toyes,
Whylest others did themselves embay in liquid joyes.

And over all of purest gold was spred
A trayle of yvie in his native hew;
For the rich metall was so coloured,
That wight, who did not well avis'd it vew,
Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew;
Low his lascivious armes adown did creepe,
That themselves dipping in the silver dew
Their fleecy flowres then fearfully did steepe,
Which drops of christall seemd for wantones to weep.

Infinit streames continually did well
Out of this fountaine, sweet and fair to see,
The which into an ample laver fell,
And shortly grew to so great quantitie,
That like a little lake it seemd to bee,
Whose depth exceed not three cubits hight,
That through the waves one might the bottom see,
All pav'd beneath with jaspar shinning bright,
That semd the fountaine in that sea did sayle upright....

The joyous birds, shrouded in chearefull shade
Their notes unto the voyce attempred sweet;
Th'angelical soft trembling voyces made
To th'instruments divine respondence meet;
The silver-sounding instruments did meet
With the base murmure of the waters fall;
The waters fall with difference discreet
Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call;
The gentle warbling wind low answered to all....

Upon a bed of roses she was layd,
As faint through heat, or dight to pleasant sin;
And was arayd or rather disarayd,
All in a vele of silke and silver thin,
That hid no whit her alabaster skin,
But rather shewd more white, if more might bee:
More subtile web Arachne cannot spin;
Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven see
Of scorched deaw, do not in th'ayre more lightly flee.

Her snowy brest was bare to ready spoyle
Of hungry eyes, which n'ote therewith be fild;
And yet, through languour of her late sweet toyle,
Few drops, mor cleare than nectar, forth distild,
That like pure Orient perles adowne it trild;
And her faire eyes, sweet smyling in delight
Moystened their fierie beams, with which she thrild
Fraile harts, yet quenched not; like starry light
Which, sparckling on the silent waves, does seeme more bright.

(Liv. II, ch. XII.)

340: Harrington's Nugæ antiquæ.

341:

Some asked me where the rubies grew,
And nothing did I say,
But with my finger pointed to
The lips of Julia.
Some asked how pearls did grow, and where;
Then spake I to my girl,
To part her lips, and show me there
The quarelets of pearl.
One ask'd me where the roses grew;
I bade him not go seek;
But forthwith bade my Julia show
A bud in either cheek.

(Herrick.)

About the sweet bag of a bee,
Two Cupids fell at odds;
And whose the pretty prize should be,
They vowed to ask the gods.
Which Venus hearing, thither came,
And for their boldness stript them;
And taking thence from each his flame,
With rods of myrtle whipt them.
Which done, to still their wanton cries,
When quiet grown sh' had seen them,
She kiss'd and wiped their dove-like eyes,
And gave the bag between them.

(Herrick.)

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?
Prithee, why so mute?
Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her:
The devil take her.

(Suckling.)

As when a lady, walking Flora's bower,
Picks here a pink, and there a gilly-flower,
Now plucks a violet from her purple bed,
And then a primrose, the year's maidenhead,
There nips the brier, here the lover's pansy.
Shifting her dainty pleasures with her fancy,
This on her arms, and that she lists to wear
Upon the borders of her curious hair;
At length a rose-bud (passing all the rest)
She plucks, and bosoms in her lily breast.

(Quarles.)

342: Voyez surtout sa satire contre les courtisans. Ceci est contre les imitateurs:

But he is worst, who beggarly doth chaw
Other's witt fruits, and in his ravenous maw
Rankly digested, doth those things outspue
As his own things; and they are his owne, 't is true,
For if one eate my meat, though it be known
The meat was mine, th' excrement is his own.

343:

When I behold a stream, which, from the spring,
Doth, with doubtful melodious murmuring,
Or in a speechless slumber calmly ride
Her wedded channels bosom, and there chide
And bend her brows, and swell, if any bough
Does but stoop down to kiss her utmost brow;
Yet if her often, gnawing kisses win
The traiterous banks to gape and let her in;
She rusheth violently and doth divorce
Her from her native and her long-kept course,
And roares, and braves it, and in gallant scorn
In flatt'ring eddies promising return,
She flouts her channel, which thenceforth is dry,
Then say I: That is she, and this I am.

344:

O do not die, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone,
That thee I shall not celebrate,
When I remember thou wast one.

345:

This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge and you, w'are met,
And cloyster'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that selfe murder added be,
And sacriledge, three sins in killing three.

Aussi Suckling l'appelle the Great lord of witt.

346: 1608-1667. J'ai sous les yeux la onzième édition de 1710.

347: Par exemple: The Spring (The Mistress, tome 1er, page 72).

348: Shakspeare: Tempest, Measure for measure, Hamlet; Beaumond and Flechter: Thierry and Theodoret, acte 4e. Voyez aussi Webster, passim.

349: This roving humour (though not with like success) I have ever had, and, like a ranging spaniel, that barks at every bird he sees, leaving his game, I have followed all, saving that which I should, and may justly complain, and truly, qui ubique est, nusquam est, which Gesner did in modesty: that I have read many books, but to little purpose, for want of good method; I have confusedly tumbled over divers authors in our libraries with small profit, for want of art, order, memory, judgment. I never travelled but in map or card, in which my unconfined thoughts have freely expatiated, as having ever been especially delighted with the study of cosmography. Saturn was lord of my geniture, culminating, etc., and Mars principal significator of manners, in partile conjunction with mine ascendent; both fortunate in their houses, etc. I am not poor, I am not rich; nihil est, nihil deest; I have little, I want nothing: all my treasure is in Minerva's tower. Greater preferment as I could never get, so am I not in debt for it. I have a competency (laus Deo) from my noble and munificent patrons. Though I live still a collegiate student, as Democritus in his garden, and lead a monastic life, ipse mihi theatrum sequestered from those tumults and troubles of the world, et tanquam in specula positus (as he said) in some high place above you all, like stoicus sapiens, omnia sæcula præterita præsentiaque videns, uno velut intuitu, I hear and see what is done abroad, how others run, ride, turmoil, and macerate themselves in court and country. Far from those wrangling law-suits, aulæ vanitatem, fori ambitionem, ridere mecum soleo: I laugh at all, "only secure, lest my suit go amiss, my ships perish, corn and cattle miscarry, trade decay, I have no wife nor children, good or bad, to provide for;" a mere spectator of other men's fortunes and adventures, and how they act their parts, which methinks are diversely presented unto me, as from a common theatre or scene. I hear new news every day: and those ordinary rumours of war, plagues, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets; spectrums, prodigies, apparitions; of towns taken, cities besieged in France, Germany, Turkey, Persia, Poland, etc., daily musters and preparations, and such like, which these tempestuous times afford, battles fought, so many men slain, monomachies, shipwrecks, piracies and sea-fights, peace, leagues, stratagems, and fresh alarms—a vast confusion of vows, wishes, actions, edicts, petitions, lawsuits, pleas, laws, proclamations, complaints, grievances—are daily brought to our ears: new books every day, pamphlets, currantoes, stories, whole catalogues of volumes of all sorts, new paradoxes, opinions, schisms, heresies, controversies in philosophy, religion, etc. Now come tidings of weddings, maskings, mummeries, entertainments, jubilees, embassies, tilts, and tournaments, trophies, triumphs, revels, sports, plays: then again, as in a new shifted scene, treasons, cheating tricks, robberies, enormous villanies, in all kinds, funerals, burials, death of princes, new discoveries, expeditions; now comical, then tragical matters. To-day we hear of new lords and officers created, tomorrow of some great men deposed, and then again of fresh honours conferred: one is let loose, another imprisoned: one purchaseth, another breaketh: he thrives, his neighbour turns bankrupt; now plenty, then again dearth and famine; one runs, another rides, wrangles, laughs, weeps, etc. Thus I daily hear, and such like, both private and public news.

350: For what a world of books offers itself, in all subjects, arts, and sciences, to the sweet content and capacity of the reader? In arithmetic, geometry, perspective, optic, astronomy, architecture, sculptura, pictura, of which so many and such elaborate treatises are of late written: in mechanics and their mysteries, military matters, navigation, riding of horses, fencing, swimming, gardening, planting, great tomes of husbandry, cookery, falconry, hunting, fishing, fowling, etc., with exquisite pictures of all sports, games, and what not? In music, metaphysics, natural and moral philosophy, philology, in policy, heraldry, genealogy, chronology, etc., they afford great tomes, or those studies of antiquity, etc., et quid subtilius arithmeticis inventionibus? quid jucundius musicis rationibus? quid divinius astronomicis? quid rectius geometricis demonstrationibus? What so sure, what so pleasant? he that shall but see that geometrical tower of Garizenda at Bologna in Italy, the steeple and clock at Strasburgh, will admire the effects of art, or that engine of Archimedes to remove the earth itself, if he had but a place to fasten his instrument? Archimedis cochlea, and rare devises to corrivate waters, music instruments, and trisyllable echoes again, again, and again repeated, with myriads of such. What vast tomes are extant in law, physic, and divinity for profit, pleasure, practice, speculation, in verse or prose, etc.? Their names alone are the subject of whole volumes: we have thousands of authors of all sorts, many great libraries full well furnished, like so many dishes of meat, served out for several palates; and he is a very block that is affected with none of them. Some take an infinite delight to study the very languages wherein these books are written, Hebrew, Greek, Syriac, Chaldee, Arabic, etc. Methinks it would well please any man to look upon a geographical map (suavi animum delectatione allicere, ob incredibilem rerum varietatem et jucunditatem et ad pleniorem sui cognitionem excitare) chorographical, topographical delineations; to behold, as it were, all the remote provinces, towns, cities of the world, and never to go forth of the limits of his study; to measure, by the scale and compass, their extent, distance, examine their site. Charles the great (as Platina writes) had three fair silver tables, in one of which superficies was a large map of Constantinople, in the second Rome neatly engraved, in the third an exquisite description of the whole world; and much delight he took in them. What greater pleasure can there now be, than to view those elaborate maps of Ortelius, Mercator, Hondius, etc., to peruse those books of cities, put out by Braunus, and Hogenbergius? to read those exquisite descriptions of Maginus, Munster, Herrera, Laet, Merula, Boterus, Leander Albertus, Camden, Leo Afer, Adricomius, Nic. Gerbelius, etc.? those famous expeditions of Christopher Columbus, Americus Vespucius, Marcus Polus the Venitian, Vertomannus, Aloysius Cadamustus, etc.? those accurate diaries of Portugals, Hollanders, of Bartison, Oliver à Nort, etc., Hacluit's voyages, Pet. Martyr's Decades, Benzo, Lerius, Linschoten's relations, those Hodœporicons of Jod. à Meggen, Brocarde the Monk, Bredenbachius, Jo. Dublinius, Sands, etc., to Jerusalem, Egypt, and other remote places of the world? those pleasant itineraries of Paulus Hentzerus, Jodocus Sincerus, Dux Polonus, etc., to read Bellonius's observations, P. Gillius his surveys; those parts of America, set out, and curiously cut in pictures, by Fratres à Bry? to see a well cut herbal, herbs, trees, flowers, plants, all vegetals, expressed in their proper colours to the life, as that of Matthiolus upon Dioscorides, Delacampius, Lobel, Bauhinus, and that last voluminous and mighty herbal of Besler of Noremberge; wherein almost every plant is to his own bigness. To see birds, beasts, and fishes of the sea, spiders, gnats, serpents, flies, etc., all creatures set out by the same art, and truly expressed in lively colours, with an exact description of their natures, virtues, qualities, etc., as hath been accurately performed by Ælian, Gesner, Ulysses Aldrovandus, Bellonus, Rondoletius, Hippolytus Salvianus, etc.

351: Anatomy of melancoly, 1621.

352: But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity: who can but pity the founder of the pyramids? Herostratus lives that burnt the temple of Diana; he is almost lost that built it; time hath spared the epitaph of Adrian's horse; confounded that of himself. In vain we compute our felicities by the advantage of our good names, since bad have equal durations; and Thersites is like to live as long as Agamemnon, without the favour of the everlasting register. Who knows whether the best of men be known? or whether there be not more remarkable persons forgot than any that stand remembered in the known account of time? Without the favour of the everlasting register, the first man had been as unknown as the last, and Methuselah's long life had been his only chronicle.

Oblivion is not to be hired: the greatest part must be content to be as though they had not been; to be found in the register of God, not in the record of man. Twenty-seven names make up the first story before the flood; and the recorded names ever since contain not one living century. The number of the dead long exceedeth all that shall live. The night of time far surpasseth the day, and who knows when was the equinox? Every hour adds unto that current arithmetic which scarce stands one moment. And since death must be the Lucina of life: and even Pagans could doubt whether thus to live were to die; since our longest sun sets at right descensions, and makes but winter arches, and therefore it cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, and have our light in ashes; since the brother of death daily haunts us with dying mementos, and time, that grows old in itself, bids us hope no long duration; diuturnity is a dream, and folly of expectation.

Darkness and light divide the course of time, and oblivion shares with memory a great part even of our living beings; we slightly remember our felicities, and the smartest strokes of affliction leave but short smart upon us. Sense endureth no extremities, and sorrows destroys us or themselves. To weep into stones are fables. Afflictions induce callosities; miseries are slippery, or fall like snow upon us, which, notwithstanding, is no unhappy stupidity. To be ignorant of evils to come, and forgetful of evils past, is a merciful provision in nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our few and evil days; and our delivered senses not relapsing into cutting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept raw by the edge of repetitions.... All was vanity, feeding the wind, and folly. The Egyptian mummies, which Cambyses or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth. Mummy is become merchandise; Mizraim cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balzams.... Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave, solemnising nativities and deaths with equal lustre, nor omitting ceremonies of bravery in the infamy of his nature.... Pyramids, arches, obelisks, were but the irregularities of vain glory, and wild enormities of ancient magnanimity.

353: Consulter Milsand, étude sur sir Thomas Browne, Revue des Deux-Mondes, 1858.

354: As water, whether it be the dew of heaven or the springs of the earth, doth scatter and lose itself in the ground, except it be collected into some receptacle, where it may by union comfort and sustain itself, and, for that cause, the industry of man hath framed and made spring-heads, conduits, cisterns, and pools, which men have accustomed likewise to beautify and adorn with accomplishments of magnificence and state, as well as of use and necessity; so knowledge, whether it descend from divine inspiration or spring from human sense, would soon perish and vanish to oblivion, if it were not preserved in books, conferences and places appointed, as universities, colleges and schools, for the receipt and comforting the same....

The greatest error of all the rest, is the mistaking or misplacing of the last or farthest end of knowledge: for men have entered into a desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes upon a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite; sometimes to entertain their minds with variety and delight; sometimes for ornament and reputation; and sometimes to enable them to victory of wit and contradiction; and most times for lucre and profession; and seldom sincerely to give a true account of their gift of reason, to the benefit and use of men: as if there were sought in knowledge a couch whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit; or a terrace, for a wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect; or a tower of state, for a proud mind to raise itself upon; or a fort or commanding ground, for strife and contention; or a shop, for profit or sale; and not a rich storehouse, for the glory of the Creator, and the relief of man's estate.

355: Voir surtout les Essais.

356: Voyez aussi dans le Novum Organum, liv. I et liv. II, les vingt-sept genres d'exemples, avec leurs noms métaphoriques. Instantiæ crucis, divortii, januæ, Instantiæ innuentes, polychrestæ, magicæ, etc. Voyez encore les Géorgiques de l'esprit, la première Vendange de l'induction, et autres titres semblables.

357: The Works of Francis Bacon. London, 1824. Tome VII, p. 2. Biographie latine, par Rawley.

358: Ce point a été mis en évidence par l'admirable Étude de lord Macaulay.—Critical and historical Essays, tome III.

359: Temporis partus masculus.

360: Novum Organum, lib. II, 15 et 16.

361: Novum Organum, liv. I, 1 et 3.

362: Natural history, 800, 24, etc. De Augmentis, lib. III, 1.

363: Voyez là-dessus presque tous les écrits de Bacon, et notamment son Histoire naturelle.