Notes 



Walton's quotation is taken from this charming description of "A fayre and 

 happy Milk-Maid " : 



" A fayre and happy 3tf.ilk-3VLaid 



Is a Countrey Wench, that is so farre from making her selfe beautifull by Art, 

 that one looke of hers is able to put all face Physicke out of countenance. She 

 knowes a faire looke is but a 'Dumbe Orator to commend vertue, therefore minds 

 it not. All her excellencies stand in her so silently, as if they had stolne upon 

 her without her knowledge. The lining of her apparell (which is her selfe) is 

 farre better than outsides of Tissew : for though she be not arraied in the spoile 

 of the Silke-worme, shee is deckt in innocency, a farre better wearing. She doth 

 not, with lying long abed, spoile both her complexion and conditions; Nature 

 hath taught her, too immoderate sleepe is ruste to the Soule ; she rises therefore 

 with Ch auntie le are her dame's cock, and at night makes the Lambe her Curfew. 

 In milking a Cow, a-straining the Teats through her fingers, it seems that so 

 sweete a Milk-presse makes the Milk the whiter or sweeter ; for never came 

 Jtlmond Cjlove or ^romatique oyntment on her palme to taint it. The golden 

 eares of come fall and kisse her feet when shee reapes them, as if they wisht to 

 be bound and led prisoners by the same hand that fell'd them. Her breath is 

 her own, which sents all the yeare long of June, like a new-made Haycock. 

 She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with pitty ; and when 

 winter evenings fall early (sitting at her mery wheele) she sings a defiance to the 

 giddy wheele of Fortune. She doth all things with so sweet a grace, it seems 

 ignorance will not suffer her to doe ill, being her mind is to doe well. Shee 

 bestowes her yeere's wages at next faire ; and in chusing her garments, counts 

 no bravery i' th' world like decency. The (garden and Bee-hive are all her 

 Thy sick and Chyrurgerye, and shee lives the longer for't. She dares goe alone, 

 and unfold sheepe i' th' night, and feares no manner of ill, because she meanes 

 none ; yet to say truth, she is never alone, for she is still accompanied with old 

 songs, honest thoughts, and prayers, but short ones ; yet they have their efficacy, 

 in that they are not pauled with insuing idle cogitations. Lastly, her dreames 

 are so chaste, that shee dare tell them ; only a Fridaie's dreame is all her super- 

 stition : that shee conceales for feare of anger. Thus lives she, and all her care 

 is that she may die in the Spring-time, to have store of flowers stucke upon her 

 winding-sheet." 



Page 96. Mr. William Basse. A minor poet, whose verses seem to have en- 

 joyed some popularity in Walton's day. His most ambitious poems, 'Polyhymnia, 

 rather tame eclogues in the manner of Spenser, were never published during his 

 lifetime, but have recently been edited by Mr. Warwick Bond. 



Basse's most spirited production is his epitaph on Shakespeare. 



Renowned Spencer lye a thought more nye 



To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumond lye 



A little nearer Spenser, to make roome 



For Shakespeare in your threefold, fouierfold Tombe. 



