1 EUPHUES, A. M.
But not unto me be the praise! O Doctor, O my guide, philosopher and friend!
Like to the bee thou everywhere didst roam
Spending thy spirits in laborious care,
And nightly brought'st thy gathered honey home,
As a true workman in so great affair;
First of thine own deserving take the fame,
Next of thy friend's; his due he gives to thee,
That love of learning may renown thy name,
And leave it richly to posterity.2
I have but given freely what freely I have received. This knowledge I owe,—and what indeed is there in my intellectual progress which I do not owe to my ever-beloved friend and teacher, my moral physician?
———his plausive words
He scattered not in ears, but grafted them
To grow there and to bear.3
To his alteratives and tonics I am chiefly (under Providence) indebted for that sanity of mind which I enjoy, and that strength,—whatever may be its measure, which I possess. It was his method,—his way, he called it; in these days when we dignify every thing, it might be called the Dovean system, or the Columbian, which he would have preferred.
2 RESTITUTA.
3 SHAKSPEARE.