MARGARET BREWS TO JOHN PASTON, ESQ. To my right well-beloved Cousin, John Paston, Esq. be this Letter delivered, &c.

RIGHT worshipful and well beloved Valentine, in my most humble wise, I recommend me unto you, &c. and heartily I thank you for the letter, which that ye send me by John Beckerton, whereby I understand and know, that ye be purposed to come to Topcroft in short time, and without any errand or matter; but only to have a conclusion of the matter betwixt my father and you; I would be most glad of any creature alive, so that the matter might grow to effect. And thereas (whereas) ye say, and (if) ye come and find the matter no more towards ye than ye did aforetime, ye would no more put my father and my lady my mother to no cost nor business, for that cause a good while after, which causeth my heart to be full heavy; and if that ye come, and the matter take to none effect, then should I be much more sorry, and full of heaviness.

And as for myself I have done, and understand in the matter that I can or may, as God knoweth ; and I let you plainly understand that my father will no more money part withal in that behalf, but an 1007. and 50 marks (33l. 6s. 8d.), which is right far from the accomplishment of your desire.

Wherefore, if that ye could be content with that good, and my poor person, I would be the merriest maiden on ground; and if ye think not yourself so satisfied, or that ye might have much more good, as I have understood by you afore;

good, true, and loving Valentine, that ye take no such labour upon you, as to come more for that matter. But let (what) is, pass, and never more be spoken of, as I may be your true lover and beadwoman during my life.

No more unto you at this time, but Almighty Jesu preserve you both body and soul, &c.

Topcroft, Feb. 1746-7.

By your Valentine,

MARGERY BREWS.

ANNE BOLEYN TO CARDINAL WOLSEY.

MY LORD,

In my most humble wise that my heart can think, I desire you to pardon me that I am so bold, to trouble you with my simple and rude writing, esteeming it to proceed from her, that is much desirous to know that your grace does well, as I perceive by this bearer that you do. The which I pray God long to continue, as I am most bound to pray; for I do know the great pains and troubles that you have taken for me both day and night is never like to be recompensed on my part, but only in loving you, next unto the king's grace, above all creatures living. And I do not doubt but the daily proofs of my deeds shall manifestly declare and affirm my writing to be true, and I do trust you to think the same. lord, I do assure you, I do long to hear from you news of the legate; for I do hope, and they come from you, they shall be very good, and I am sure you desire it as much as I and more,

My

and it were possible, as I know it is not: and thus, remaining in a steadfast hope, I make an end of my letter, written with the hand of her that is most bound to be,

Your humble servant,

ANNE BOLEYN.

POSTSCRIPT BY KING HENRY VIII.

I

THE writer of this letter would not cease till she had caused me likewise to set my hand, desiring you, though it be short, to take in good part. assure you there is neither of us but that greatly desire to see you, so much more joyous to hear that you have escaped this plague so well, trusting the fury thereof to be passing, especially with them that keep a good diet, as I trust you do. The not hearing of the legate's arrival in France, causeth us somewhat to muse, notwithstanding we trust by your diligence and vigilancy, with the assistance of Almighty God, shortly to be eased out of that trouble. No more to you at this time, but that I pray God send you as good health and prosperity as the writer would,

By your loving sovereign and friend,

HENRY R.

SIR THOMAS MORE TO MR. GUNNEL,

HIS CHILDREN'S TUTOR.

I HAVE received, my dear Gunnel, your letters, full, as usual, of elegance and affection. Your love of my children I see by your letters, your diligence I gather from their own; for each of their letters pleased me. But especially was I

delighted that Elizabeth behaved herself with a decency of demeanor in my absence, which few children observe in the presence of their parents. Give her to understand, that the circumstance gratified me more than could all the learning in the world. For I prefer the learning which is united with virtue to all the treasures of kings; and if we separate from it propriety of conduct, what more doth the fame of letters bring us than a kind of infamy in notoriety? This applies peculiarly to the female sex. Their proficiency in literature being something new, and a kind of reproach to the sluggishness of men, most men will be ready to attack them, and to expend their natural malice upon their learning. Nay, they will call their own ignorance a virtue, when compared with the faults of these learned. On the other hand, if a woman (which I wish may be the case with all my girls, and in which I have the greatest confidence under your auspices) to high excellence of character unites even a moderate portion of learning, I deem her possessed of more real good than if she had the wealth of Croesus and the beauty of Helen.

And this not for the sake of fame, although fame pursues worth as the shadow the body: but because the reward of wisdom is more substantial than to be borne away on the wings of riches, or to fade with beauty; as it places its dependence on rectitude of conscience, not on the tongues of others, which abound in folly and evil. For as the avoiding of infamy is the duty of a good man, so the laying himself out for fame is the part not only of a proud, but also of a ridiculous and con

temptible one; since that mind must of necessity be ill at ease, which ever fluctuates between joy and sadness from the opinions of others. Of the great benefits, however, which learning confers upon man, I really deem none preferable to the instruction which letters afford us, that in the attainment of them we regard not the reputation they bring us, but their utility. Which precept, although some have abused their learning, like other good possessions, by hunting only for vain glory and popular fame, yet has it been delivered by all the most learned, and especially by the philosophers, those moderators of human life.

I have enlarged the more on this subject of vain glory, my Gonellus, because of the expression in your letter, that you think the elevated cast of my daughter Margaret's mind ought not to be lowered. I agree with you in this opinion. But in my mind, and I doubt not in yours also, he seems to lower the noble disposition of his mind, who accustoms himself to admire what is vain and base. And he, on the other hand, to elevate it, who esteems virtue and true good; who, by contemplating sublime objects, looks down as from on high, with disregard on these shadows of good, which almost every one in ignorance greedily catches at for the substance.

As this seemed to me the best way, I have requested not only you, my dear Gonellus, whose strong love to all mine would have led you, I know, to have done so of your own accord; or my wife, to whom (as I have often witnessed) her true maternal piety is a sufficient impulse, but frequently almost all my friends also, to admonish