Thomæ Junio Præceptori suo.
QUanquam statueram apud me (Præceptor optime) Epistolium quoddam numeris metricis elucubratum ad te dare, non satis tamen habuisse me existimavi, nisi aliud insuper soluto stylo exarassem;
incredibilis enim illa & singularis animi mei gratitudo, quam tua ex debito vendicant in me merita, non constricto illo, & certis pedibus ac syllabis angustato dicendi genere exprimenda suit, sed Oratione liberâ, immo potius, si fieri posset, Asiaticâ verborum exuberantiâ. Quamvis quidem satis exprimere quantum tibi debeam, opus sit meis viribus longe majus, etiamsi omnes quoscunque Aristoteles, quoscunque Parisiensis ille Dialecticus congessit argumentorum τóπους exinanirem, etiamsi omnes elocutionis fonticulos exhaurirem. Quereris tu vero (quòd merito potes) literas meas raras admodum & perbreves ad te delatas esse; ego vero non tam doleo me adeo jucundo, adeoque expetendo defuisse officio, quam gaudeo & pene exulto eum me in amicitia tua tenere locum, qui possit crebras à me Epistolas efflagitare. Quod autem hoc plusquam triennio nunquam ad te scripserim, quæso ut ne in pejus trahas, sed pro mirifica ista tua facilitate & candore, in mitiorem partem interpretari digneris. Deum enim testor quam te instar Patris colam, quam singulari etiam observantiâ te semper prosecutus sim, quamque veritus chartis meis tibi obstrepere. Curo nempe cum primis, cum Tabellas meas nihil aliud commendet, ut commendet raritas. Deinde, cum ex vehementissimo, quo tui afficior desiderio, adesse te semper cogitem, teque tanquam præsentem alloquar & intuear, dolorique meo (quod in amore fere fit) vanâ quâdam præsentiæ tuæ imaginatione adblandiar; vereor profecto, simulac literas ad te mittendas meditarer, ne in mentem mihi subito veniret, quam longinquo à me distes terrarum intervallo; atque ita recrudesceret dolor absentiæ tuæ jam prope consopitus, somniúmque dulce discuteret. Biblia Hebræa, pergratum sane munus tuum, jampridem accepi. Hæc scripsi Londini inter urbana diverticula, non Libris, ut soleo, circumseptus: Si quid igitur in hac Epistola minus arriserit, tuamque frustrabitur expectationem, pensabitur alia magis elaborata, ubi primum ad Musarum spatia rediero.
Londino, Martii 26. 1625.
To Thomas Young, his Teacher.
ATHOUGH my intention was, my dearest Master,
to send you a letter carefully composed in metrical
form, yet I did not feel satisfied without writing
another as well, in prose; for that unparalleled and
matchless gratitude, which your goodness toward me
needs must arouse in my heart, could not find expression in that style of writing which is fast bound and
fettered by definite feet and syllables, but only in a style
free from all such restrictions, or rather in an Asiatic flow of words, if that might be.
Yet it would be far beyond my power to express fully
all that I owe to you, even were I to drain dry all the
springs of eloquence and exhaust all the commonplaces
of rhetoric which Aristotle and the famous logician of
Paris together have amassed.
You complain, as well you may, that the letters you
have received from me are far too scarce and too short.
I for my part feel less remorse at having been found
wanting in so pleasant and attractive a duty, than joy or
even exultation at finding that the place I hold in your
esteem is such as to demand frequent letters from me.
As for my never having written to you for more than
three years, I beg you not to think the worst of this, but
graciously to put a kindly interpretation upon it, in
accordance with your own wonderful gentleness and
fair-mindedness. For, upon my oath, I honor you as
a father, have ever regarded you with the deepest reverence, and have only feared to cause you annoyance by
my importunity in writing. I have indeed done my
utmost to ensure that if nothing else commended my
letters to you, their rarity at least should do so.
Furthermore, the intense longing which I feel for
you leads me constantly to fancy that you are indeed
present and that I speak to you and see you face to face,
and to assuage my griefs, as men in love often do, by the
vain illusion of your presence. Hence I fear, once I set
about writing to you, that I may suddenly be forced to
realise how many miles separate you from me, and so
my grief at your absence, now almost stilled, may start
into renewed life and shatter my soothing dreams.
I received some time ago your most welcome gift of
a Hebrew Bible.
I write this in London, among the distractions of the
town, not, as usual, surrounded by books. So if anything in this letter fails to please you or to fulfil your
expectations, it shall be made good in another, upon
which more pains have been bestowed, as soon as I
return to the haunts of the Muses.
London, March 26th, 1625
Translation by Phyllis B. Tillyard
