nd great;
but very seldom: and when it comes it doth not recompense the rest of
their ill. For their jests, and their sentences (which they only and
ambitiously seek for) stick out and are more eminent because all is
sordid and vile about them; as lights are more discerned in a thick
darkness than a faint shadow. Now, because they speak all they can
(however unfitly), they are thought to have the greater copy; where
the learned use ever election and a mean, they look back to what they
intended at first, and make all an even and proportioned body. The
true artificer will not run away from Nature as he were afraid of her,
or depart from life and the likeness of truth, but speak to the
capacity of his hearers. And tho his language differ from the vulgar
somewhat, it shall not fly from all humanity, with the Tamerlanes and
Tamer-chams of the late age, which had nothing in them but the
scenical strutting and furious vociferation to warrant them to the
ignorant gapers. He knows it is his only art so to carry it as none
but artificers perceive it. In the meantime, perhaps, he is called
barren, dull, lean, a poor writer or by what contumelious word can
come in their cheeks, by these men who, without labor, judgment,
knowledge, or almost sense, are received or preferred before him. He
gratulates them and their fortune. Another age, or juster men, will
acknowledge the virtues of his studies, his wisdom in dividing, his
subtlety in arguing, with what strength he doth inspire his readers,
with what sweetness he strokes them; in inveighing, what sharpness; in
jest, what urbanity he uses; how he doth reign in men's affections;
how invade and break in upon them, and makes their minds like the
thing he writes. Then in his elocution to behold what word is proper,
which hath ornaments, which height, what is beautifully translated,
where figures are fit, which gentle, which strong, to show the
composition manly; and how he hath avoided faint, obscure, obscene,
sordid, humble, improper, or effeminate phrase; which is not only
praised of the most, but commended (which is worse), especially for
that it is naught.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 57: From "Timber; or Discoveries Made upon Men and Matter."]

IZAAK WALTON

Born in 1593, died in 1683; an ironmonger in London in 1618;
his home in Fleet Street in 1624, and from 1628 to 1644 in
Chancery Lane, where he had Dr. John Donne, whose life he
wrote, for friend and nei