Epistle III. To Caninius Rufus.
by
Mr. Toland.
How fares Comum, my Delight and yours? That country-Seat, so exceeding lovely?
That Gallery, where it is always Spring? That most shady Grove of Plane-Trees?
That Canal, so green, and clear as a Diamond? The Lake hard by, which seems designed for a Reservatory to supply it?
Those firm, and yet easy Walks? That Bath, which never wants the Sun in his Round?
Those large Dining-Rooms for Company, and those lesser Withdrawing-Rooms for a few Friends?
How goes it with the Drinking-Rooms? How with those Bed-Chambers for Night,
and those Anti-Chambers for Day? Do these possess and share you by Turns?
Or, are you hindered (as you were wont) with frequent Excursions abroad,
by an over-earnest Desire of increasing your Estate? If these possess you,
then are you easy and happy; but if they do not, you are only One of many that admire them.
Why do you not rather (for it is high Time) commit those
low and sordid Cares to others, and apply your self to Books, in that quiet and plentiful Retreat?
Let this be your Business and Leisure, your Labour and Recreation: Let Studies employ your Thoughts by Day,
and be the Subject of your Dreams by Night. Invent, and finish something,
that may be perpetually yours; for the rest of your Possessions will,
after your Death, successively fall to the Share of many Owners; but if this once begins,
it can never cease to be yours. I know how great a Soul, and how fine a Genius I exhort.
Do you only endeavour to have as good an Opinion of your self, as others must need entertain of you,
if once you are conscious of your own Worth.
Farewel.
