EPILOGUE
kindly upon me (though some call him a stern and awful noble) said: "Why Master Leolinus you look but sickly, poor gentleman, poor gentleman, I protest you're but a shadow, do not your Abbreviatures bring you in a goodly revenue?" "Not so, Your Grace," answered I, "to the present time I have abbreviated all in vain, and were it not for the hospitality of your table, I know not how I should win through." "How goes it then with your Silurian Histories, with which I am mightily in love by your talk of them, and would by no means have them remain unfinished." "With them, may it please Your Grace, it fares exceedingly well, and this very morning I have made an end of writing the First Journey, containing many agreeable histories and choice discourses." "I believe indeed it will be a rare book, fit to read to the monks of Tintern while they dine. But yet I will have you lay it aside a little, since I have a good piece of preferment for you, an office (or I mistake you) altogether to your taste. What say you, Master Scholar, to the lordship of an Island and no less an Island that Farre Joyaunce in the Western Seas? How stand you thitherwards? Will you take ship presently?" At hearing this, I was, as you may guess, half bewildered with sudden joy, that is apt to bring tears into the eyes of them that have toiled in many a weary struggle with adversity: I could but kneel and kiss His Grace's hand, and say, "My lord." "Enough, enough," said this kind nobleman, "I have long desired this place for you; when you first broke bread with me, I said to my chaplain,
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