NOTE. The extracts that follow will serve as specimens of the style current about three hundred years ago. That of Markham, it will be perceived, is very much involved, the sentences being long and the construction intricate. THE MILKMAID.-[SIR THOMAS OVERBURY.] 1. The fair and happy milkmaid is a country wench, that is so far from making herself beautiful by art, that one look of hers is enough to put all face-physic out of countenance. She knows a fair look is but a dumb orator to commend virtue, therefore minds it not. All her excellences stand in her so silently as if they had stolen upon her without her knowledge. 2. The lining of her apparel, which is herself, is far better than outsides of tissue; for, though she be not arrayed in the spoil of the silk-worm, she is decked in innocence, a far better wearing. She doth not, with lying long in bed, spoil both her complexion and conditions: nature hath taught her, too immoderate sleep is rust to the soul; she rises, therefore, with Chanticleer, her dame's cock, and at night makes the lamb her curfew. 3. In milking a cow, and straining the liquid through her fingers, it seems that so sweet a milk-press makes the milk whiter or sweeter; for never came almond-glore or aromatic ointment on her palm to taint it. The golded ears of corn fall and kiss her feet when she reaps them, as if they wished to be bound and led prisoners by the same hand that felled them. 4. Her breath is her own, which scents all the year long of June, like a new-made hay-cock. She makes her hand hard with labor, and her heart soft with pity; and, when winter evenings fall early, sitting at her merry wheel, she sings defiance to the giddy wheel of fortune. She doth all things with so sweet a grace, it seems ig norance will not suffer her to do ill, being her mind is to do well. 5. She bestows her year's wages at next fair, and in choosing her garments counts no bravery in the world like decency. The garden and bee-hive are all her physic and surgery, and she lives the longer for it. She dares go alone and unfold sheep in the night, and fears no manner of ill because she means none: yet, to say truth, she is never alone, but is still accompanied with old songs, honest thoughts, and prayers, but short ones; yet they have their efficacy, in that they are not palled with ensuing idle cogitations. 6. Lastly, her dreams are so chaste that she dare tell them only a Friday's dream is all her superstition; that she conceals for fear of anger. Thus lives she; and all her care is that she may die in the spring-time, to have store of flowers stuck upon her winding-sheet. AIR AND ITS TENANTS.-[IZAAK WALTON.] 1. And first for the element that I use to trade in, which is the air; an element of more worth than weight, an element that doubtless exceeds both the earth and water: for, though I sometimes deal in both, yet the air is most properly mine: I and my hawks use that, and it yields us most recreation: it stops not the high soaring of my noble, generous falcon: in it she ascends to such an height as the dull eyes of beasts and fish are not able to reach to; their bodies are too gross for such high elevations. 2. In the air, my troops of hawks soar up on high; and when they are lost in the sight of men, then they attend upon and converse with the gods. 3. Therefore I think my eagle is so justly styled Jove's servant in ordinary: and that very falcon that I am now going to see, deserves no meaner a title; for she usually in her flight endangers herself, like the son of Dædalus, to have her wings scorched by the sun's heat, she flies so near it ; but her mettle makes her careless of danger, for then she heeds nothing, but makes her nimble pinions cut the fluid air, and so makes her highway over the steepest mountains and deepest rivers, and in her glorious career looks with contempt upon those high steeples and magnificent palaces which we adore and wonder at; from which height I can make her to descend by a word from my mouth which she both knows and obeys, to accept of meat from my hand, to own me for her master, to go home with me, and be willing the next day to afford me the like recreation. 4. Nay more, the very birds of the air, those that be not hawks, are both so many and so useful and pleasant to mankind, that I must not let them pass without some observations. 5. As first, the lark: when she means to rejoice, to cheer herself and those that hear her, she then quits the earth, and sings as she ascends higher into the air; and, having ended her heavenly employment, grows then mute and sad to think she must descend to the dull earth, which she would not touch but from necessity. 6. How do the blackbird and thrassel' with their melodious voices bid welcome to the cheerful spring, and in their fixed months warble forth such ditties as no art or instrument can reach to! 7. Nay, the smaller birds also do the like in their particular seasons; as namely, the leverock,2 the tit-lark, the little linnet, and the honest robin that loves mankind both' alive and dead. 8. But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very laborer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth and say, "Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth!" Of men than beasts. But oh! th' exceeding grace There is else much more wretched were the cace Of Highest God that loves his creatures so, And all his works with mercy doth embrace, That blessed Angels he sends to and fro, To serve to wicked man, to serve his wicked foe! II. How oft do they their silver bowers leave, To come to succour us that succour want! 1 How oft do they with golden pinions cleave 5 10 15 And their bright squadrons round about us plant; And all for love and nothing for reward: Oh! why should Heavenly God to men have such regard ? 1 Yielding. THE GOOD HOUSEWIFE.-[MARKHAM.] 1. Next unto her sanctity and holiness of life, it is meet that our English housewife be a woman of great modesty and temperance, as well inwardly as outwardly: inwardly, as in her behavior and carriage towards her husband, wherein she shall shun all violence of rage, passion, and humor, coveting less to direct than to be directed, appearing ever unto him pleasant, amiable, and delightful; and though occasion of mishaps or the misgovernment of his will may induce her to contrary thoughts, yet virtuously to suppress them, and with a mild sufferance rather to call him home from his error than with the strength of anger to abate the least spark of his evil; calling into her mind that evil and uncomely language is deformed though uttered even to servants, but most monstrous and ugly when it appears before the presence of a husband: outwardly, as in her apparel and diet, both which she shall proportion according to the competency of her husband's estate and calling, making her circle rather straight than large; for it is a rule if we extend to the uttermost, we take away increase,—if we go a hair's breadth beyond, we enter into consumption,— but if we preserve any part, we build strong forts against the adversaries of fortune, provided that such preservation be honest and conscionable. 2. To conclude, our English housewife must be of chaste thoughts, stout courage, patient, untired, watchful, diligent, witty, pleasant, constant in friendship, full of good neighborhood, wise in discourse, but not frequent therein, sharp and quick of speech, but not bitter or talkative, secret in her affairs, comfortable in her counsels, and generally skilful in the worthy knowledges which do belong to her vocation. |