Yet even.

Tells on his tale as smoothly as him list;
But still the lawyer's eye squints on his fist:
If that seem lined with a larger fee,

"Doubt not the suit, the law is plain for thee."
Tho' must he buy his vainer hopes with price,
Disclout his crowns, and thank him for advice.

THE DOMESTIC TUTOR.

A gentle squire would gladly entertain
Into his house some trencher-chapelain ;3
Some willing man that might instruct his sons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
While his young master lieth o'er his head.5
Second, that he do, on no default, -
Ever presume to sit above the salt.6

Third, that he never change his trencher twice.
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
Sit bare at meals, and one half rise and wait.
Last, that he never his young master beat;
But he must as his mother to define

How many jerks she would his back should line
All these observed, he could contented be

To give five marks and winter livery.

THE RUSTIC WISHING TO TURN SOLDIER.

The sturdy ploughman doth the soldier see
All scarf'd with pied colors to the knee,
Whom Indian pillage hath made fortunate;
And now he 'gins to loathe his former state:
Now doth he inly scorn his Kendal-green,8
And his patch'd cockers? now despised been;
Nor list he now go whistling to the car,
But sells his team, and settleth to the war.

Oh war! to them that never tried thee, sweet:
When 10 his dead mate falls grovelling at his feet;
And angry bullets whistle at his ear,

And his dim eyes see nought but dread and drear.

2 Pull them out of his purse.

Or, a table-chaplain. In the same sense we have "trencher-knight" in "Love's Labor List." Pe still too often see, as did Hall, the depressed state of modest, but true genius; we still see "the earned pate duck to the golden fool;" we still see "pastors and teachers" court and flatter men who have little else than their money to recommend them.

4 Pronounced as in four syllables, con-di-ti-ons.

5 This indulgence allowed to the pupil is the reverse of a more ancient rule at Oxford, by which the scholars are ordered "to sleep respectively under the beds of the Fellows, in a truckle bed, (Trooky⇓ Leddys, vulgariter nuncupati,) or small bed shifted about upon wheels."

6 In Hall's day the table was divided into the upper and lower messes, by a huge salt-cellar, and the rank and consequence of the visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above or below the salt-cellar.

7 Lashes.

A kind of forester's green cloth, so called from Kendal, Westmoreland county, which was famous for its manufacture 9"A kind of rustic high shoes or half boots.

10 That is, to them who have never seen the time when, &c.

THE FASHIONABLE BUT FAMISHED BEAU.

Seest thou how gayly my young master goes,
Vaunting himself upon his rising toes;

And pranks his hand upon his dagger's side;
And picks his glutted teeth since late noontide?
'Tis Ruffio: Trow'st thou where he dined to-day?
In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humfray.1
Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say
He touch'd no meat of all this livelong day.
For sure methought, yet that was but a guess,
His eyes seein'd sunk for very hollowness;
But could he have (as I did it mistake)

So little in his purse, so much upon his back?
So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt,
That his gaunt bulk not too much stuffing felt.
Seest thou how side2 it hangs beneath his hip?
Hunger and heavy iron makes girdles slip.
Yet for all that, how stiffly struts he by,
All trapped in the new-found bravery.

His hair, French-like, stares on his frighted head,
One lock amazon-like dishevelled,

As if he meant to wear a native cord,

If chance his fates should him that bane afford.

All British bare upon the bristled skin,
Close notched is his beard both lip and chin;
His linen collar labyrinthian set,

Whose thousand double turnings never met:
His sleeves half hid with elbow pinionings,
As if he meant to fly with linen wings.
But when I look, and cast mine eyes below,
What monster meets mine eyes in human show?
So slender waist with such an abbot's loin,
Did never sober nature sure conjoin.
Lik'st a straw scarecrow in the new-sown field,
Reard on some stick, the tender corn to shield.
Or if that semblance suit not every deal,
Like a broad shake-fork with a slender steel.

As a prose writer, Hall was known in his day as a most able champion controversial theology, being one of the antagonists of Milton, and writing w tl. great learning, as well as with a most excellent spirit, in favor of the e ta blished church. But his numerous tracts on this subject are now but lite read. Not so, however, with his "Contemplations on the principal Passages of the Holy Story," and his "Occasional Meditations." These are replete with fine thoughts, excellent morality, and sterling piety. He has been styled the Christian Seneca, from his sententious manner of writing, and from the peculiar resemblance of his "Meditations" to "Seneca's Morals."3

1 A proverbial phrase for going without a dinner, arising from the circumstance of St. Paul's, where Duke Humphrey's tomb was supposed to stand, being the common resort of loungers who had not dined. 2 Long or low.

8" Poetry was the occupation merely of his youth, the vigor and decline of his days being employed in the composition of professional works, calculated, by their piety, eloquence, and originali" y. to promote, in the most powerful manner, the best interests of morality and religion."-- Drake.

UPON OCCASION OF A RED-BREAST COMING INTO HIS CHAMBER.

Pretty bird, how cheerfully dost thou sit and sing, and yet knowest not where thou art, nor where thou shalt make thy next meal; and at night must shrowd thyself in a bush for lodging! What a shame is it for me, that see before me so liberal provisions of my God, and find myself sit warm under my own roof, yet am ready to droop under a distrustful and unthankful dulness. Had I so little certainty of my harbor and purveyance, how heartless should I be, how careful; how little list should I have to make music to thee or myself. Surely thou comest not hither without a Providence. God sent thee not so much to delight, as to shame me, but all in a conviction of my sullen unbelief, who, under more apparent means, am less cheerful and confident; reason and faith have not done so much in me, as in thee mere instinct of nature; want of foresight makes thee more merry, if not more happy here, than the foresight of better things maketh me.

O God, thy providence is not impaired by those powers thou hast given me above these brute things; let not my greater helps hinder me from a holy security, and comfortable reliance on thee.

UPON HEARING MUSIC BY NIGHT.

How sweetly doth this music sound in this dead season! In the day-time it would not, it could not so much affect the ear. All harmonious sounds are advanced by a silent darkness; thus it is with the glad tidings of salvation: the gospel never sounds so sweet as in the night of preservation, or of our own private affliction: it is ever the same, the difference is in our disposition to receive it. O God, whose praise it is to give songs in the night, make my prosperity conscionable, and my crosses cheerful.

UPON THE SIGHT OF A GREAT LIBRARY.

What a world of wit is here packed up together! I know not whether this sight doth more dismay or comfort me; it dismays me to think that here is so much that I cannot know; it comforts me to think that this variety yields so good helps to know what I should. There is no truer word than that of Solomon-there is no end of making many books; this sight verifies it; there is no end; indeed, it were pity there should: God hath given to man a busy soul; the agitation whereof cannot but, through time and experience, work out many hidden truths: to suppress these would be no other than injurious to mankind; whose minds, like unto so many candles, should be kindled by each other: the thoughts of our deliberation are most accurate; these we vent into our papers. What a happiness is it, that, without all offence of

necromancy, I may here call up any of the ancient worthies of learning, whether human or divine, and confer with them of all my doubts! that I can at pleasure summon whole synods of re verend fathers, and acute doctors from al the coasts of the earth, to give their well-studied judgments in all points of question which I propose! Neither can I cast my eye casually upon any of these silent masters, but I must learn somewhat: it is a wantonness to complain of choice.

THE HAPPY MAN IS HE

That hath learned to read himself more than all books; and hath so taken out this lesson that he can never forget it; that knows the world, and cares not for it; that after many traverses of thoughts, is grown to know what he may trust to, and stands now equally armed for all events; that hath got the mastery at home, so as he can cross his will without a mutiny, and so please it that he makes it not a wanton; that in earthly things wishes no more than nature; in spiritual, is ever graciously ambitious; that for his condition, stands on his own feet, not needing to lean upon the great; and so can frame his thoughts to his estate, that when he hath least, he cannot want, because he is as free from desire as superfluity; that he hath seasonably broken the headstrong restiness of prosperity, and can now manage it at pleasure: upon whom all smaller crosses light as hailstones upon a roof; and for the greater calamities, he can take them as tributes of life, and tokens of love; and if his ship be tossed, yet is he sure his anchor is fast. If all the world were his, he could be no other than he is, no whit gladder of himself, no whit higher in his carriage, because he knows contentment is not in the things he hath, but in the mind that values them. The powers of his resolution can either multiply, or subtract at pleasure. He can make his cottage a manor or a palace when he lists; and his homeclose a large dominion; his stained cloth, arras; his earth, plate; and can see state in the attendance of one servant: as one that hath

1 It's no in titles nor in rank,

It's no in wealth, like Lon'on bank,

To purchase peace and rest;

It's no in making muckle mair,
It's no in books, it's no in lear,

To make us truly blest:

If happiness hae not her seat

And centre in the breast,

We may be wise, or rich, or great,
But never can be blest:

Nae treasures, nor pleasures,

Could make us happy lang;

The heart aye's the part aye,

That makes us right or wrang. BunY 6.

use.

learned a man's greatness or baseness is in himself; and in this he may even contest with the proud, that he thinks his own the best. Or if he must be outwardly great, he can but turn the other end of the glass, and make his stately manor a low and strait cottage; and in all his costly furniture he can see not richness but He can see dross in the best metal, and earth through the best clothes and in all his troop he can see himself his own servant. He lives quietly at home, out of the noise of the world, and loves to enjoy himself always, and sometimes his friend, and hath as full scope to his thoughts as to his eyes. He walks ever even in the midway betwixt hopes and fears, resolved to fear nothing but God, to hope for nothing but that which he must have. His strife is ever to redeem and not to spend time. It is his trade to do good, and to think of it as his recreation. He hath hands enough for himself and others, which are ever stretched forth for beneficence, not for need. He walks cheerfully the way that God hath chalked, and never wishes it more wide, or more smooth. Those very temptations whereby he is foiled, strengthen him; he comes forth crowned, and triumphing out of the spiritual battles, and those scars that he hath, make him beautiful. His soul is every day dilated to receive that God in whom he is, and hath attained to love himself for God, and God for his own sake. His eyes stick so fast in heaven, that no earthly object can remove them; yea, his whole self is there before his time; and sees Stephen, and hears with Paul, and enjoys with Lazarus, the glory that he shall have; and takes possession beforehand of his room amongst the saints; and these heavenly contentments have so taken him up, that now he looks down displeasedly upon the earth, as the regions of his sorrow and banishment; yet joying more in hope than troubled with the sense of evil, he holds it no great matter to live, and greatest business to die: and is so well acquainted with his last guest, that he fears no unkindness from him; neither makes he any other of dying, than of walking home when he is abroad, or of going to bed when he is weary of the day. He is well provided for both worlds, and is sure of peace here, of glory hereafter; and therefore hath a light heart and a cheerful face. All his fellow creatures rejoice to serve him; his betters, the angels, love to observe him; God himself takes pleasure to converse with him; and hath sainted him before his death, and in his death crowned him.

THE PLEASURE OF STUDY AND CONTEMPLATION.

I can wonder at nothing more than how a man can be idle; but of all others, a scholar; in so many improvements of reason, in such sweetness of knowledge, in such variety of studies, in such importunity of thoughts: other artisans do but practise, we stil