ABRAHAM COWLEY loi 



(though I could wish that he had rather said, ' Nobilis otii,' when 

 he spoke of his own). But several accidents of my ill fortune 

 have disappointed me hitherto, and do still, of that felicity ; for 

 though I have made the first and hardest step to it, by abandon- 

 ing all ambitions and hopes in this world, and by retiring from 

 the noise of all business and almost company, yet I stick still in 

 the inn of a hired house and garden, among weeds and rubbish ; 

 and without that pleasantest work of human industry, the im- 

 provement of something which we call (not very properly, but 

 yet we call) our own. I am gone out from Sodom, but I am 

 not yet arrived at my little Zoar. ' O let me escape thither (is 

 it not a httle one ?) and my soul shall live.' I do not look back 

 yet ; but I have been forced to stop, and make too many halts. 

 . . . Among many other arts and excellencies, which you enjoy, 

 I am glad to find this favourite of mine the most predominant ; 

 that you choose this for your wife, though you have hundreds of 

 other arts for your concubines ; though you know them, and beget 

 sons upon them all (to which you are rich enough to allow great 

 legacies), yet the issue of this seems to be designed by you to the 

 main of the estate. You have taken most pleasure in it, and 

 bestowed most charges upon its education : and I doubt not to 

 see that book which you are pleased to promise to the world, 

 and of which you have given us a large earnest in your Calendar,^ 

 as accomplished as any thing can be expected from an extra- 

 ordinary wit, and no ordinary expenses, and a long experience. 

 I know nobody that possesses more private happiness than you do 

 in your Garden ; and yet no man, who makes his happiness more 

 public, by a free communication of the heart, and knowledge of 

 it to others. All that I myself am able yet to do, is only to 

 recommend to mankind the search of that felicity, which you 

 instruct them how to find and to enjoy. — The Garden. {To/. 

 Evelyn J Esq.) 



1 Mr Evelyn's ' Calendarium Hortense,' dedicated to Mr Cowley. 



