HOW TO WRITE WELL.-[BEN JONSON.] 1. For a man to write well, there are required three necessaries to read the best authors; observe the best speakers; and much exercise of his own style. In style to consider what ought to be written, and after what manner; he must first think, and excogitate his matter; then choose his words, and examine the weight of either. Then take care in placing and ranking both matter and words, that the composition be comely; and to do this with diligence and often. 2. No matter how slow the style be at first, so it be labored and accurate; seek the best, and be not glad of the forward conceits, or first words that offer themselves to us; but judge of what we invent, and order what we approve. 3. Repeat often what we have formerly written; which, besides that it helps the consequence and makes the juncture better, quickens the heat of imagination, that often cools in the time of sitting down, and gives it new strength, as if it grew lustier by the going back. As we see in the contention of leaping, they jump farthest that fetch their race largest; or, as in throwing a dart or javelin, we force back our arms, to make our loose the stronger. 4. Yet, if we have a fair gale of wind, I forbid not the steering out of our sail, so the favor of the gale deceive us not. For all that we invent doth please us in the conception or birth; else we would never set it down. But the safest is to return to our judgment, and handle over again those things, the easiness of which might make them justly suspected. 5. So did the best writers in their beginnings. They imposed upon themselves care and industry. They did nothing rashly. They obtained first to write well, and then custom made it easy and a habit. By little and little, their matter showed itself to them more plentifully; their words answered, their composition followed; and all, as in a well-ordered family, presented itself in the place. 6. So that the sum of all is, ready writing makes not good writing; but good writing brings on ready writing. KNOWLEDGE.-[BACON.] 1. Learning taketh away the wildness, and barbarism, and fierceness of men's minds: though a little superficial learning doth rather work a contrary effect. It taketh away all levity, temerity, and insolency, by copious suggestion of all doubts and difficulties, and acquainting the mind to balance reasons on both sides, and to turn back the first offers and conceits of the kind, and to accept of nothing but examined and tried. 2. It taketh away vain admiration of any thing, which is the root of all weakness. It taketh away or mitigateth fear of death or adverse fortune; which is one of the greatest impediments of virtue and imperfections of manners. 3. It were too long to go over the particular remedies which learning doth minister to all the diseases of the mind, sometimes purging the ill humors, sometimes opening the obstructions, sometimes helping the digestion, sometimes increasing appetite, sometimes healing the wounds and exulcerations thereof, and the like; and therefore I will conclude with the chief reason of all, which is, that it disposeth the constitution of the mind not to be fixed or settled in the defects thereof, but still to be capable and susceptible of reformation. 4. For the unlearned man knows not what it is to descend into himself or to call himself to account: nor the pleasure of that most pleasant life, which consists in our daily feeling ourselves to become better. The good parts he hath, he will learn to show to the full and use them dexterously, but not much to increase them; the faults he hath, he will learn how to hide and color them, but not much to amend them: like an ill mower, that mows on still and never whets his scythe. Whereas, with the learned man it fares otherwise, that he doth ever intermix the correction and amendment of his mind with the use and employment thereof. 5. The pleasure and delight of knowledge and learning far surpasseth all other in nature; for shall the pleasures of the affections so exceed the pleasures of the senses, as much as the obtaining of desire or victory exceedeth a song or a dinner; and must not, of consequence, the pleasures of the intellect or understanding exceed the pleasures of the affections? 6. We see in all other pleasures there is a satiety, and after they be used their verdure departeth; which showeth well they be but deceits of pleasure, and not pleasure, and that it was the novelty which pleased, and not the quality; and therefore we see that voluptuous men turn friars, and ambitious princes turn melancholy: but of knowledge there is no satiety, but satisfaction and appetite are perpetually interchangeable; and therefore appeareth to be good, in itself simply, without fallacy or accident. THE TWO CORBIES. AN OLD BALLAD. There were two corbies sat on a tree, Where shall we go and dine to-day? Shall we go dine by the wild salt sea? 5 Shall we go dine 'neath the greenwood tree? As I sat on the deep sea sand, I saw a fair ship nigh at land, Come, I will show ye a sweeter sight, 10 A lonesome glen, and a new-slain knight; 15 His sword half-drawn, his shafts unshot, And no one kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame. 20 His lady's away with another mate, Ye shall sit on his white hause-bane,1 chin The gowden2 down on his young 25 30 Oh! cauld and bare will his bed be, He will sleep, nor hear the maiden's moan; O'er his white bones the birds shall fly, 35 The wild deer bound, and foxes cry. 1 The neck-bone • Golden. MISCELLANEOUS PASSAGES. 1. Princes, potentates, Warriors, the flower of Heaven! once yours, now lost. [Milton. 2. What if the breath that kindled those grim fires, Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage.—Id. 3. What could I do, But follow straight, invisibly thus led? 4. Ah, gentle pair! ye little think how nigh More woe, the more your taste is now for joy, 5. Account me man; I for his sake will leave 6. The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warned Their sinful state.-Id. 1 7. He ceased, for both seemed highly pleased, and Death Grinned horribly a ghastly smile, to hear 2 His Famine should be filled.-Id. 8. From them I go This uncouth errand sole, and one for all |