June, 1597, Islington
Churches clock struck half to midnight and it seems that tallow candles burning indulges me to gather my thoughts and my floating in the epics most delightful manner.
This almost passing day has being extremely thoroughly arranged in the most successfully matter, I might say. Lastly, I am relieved and entrusted that nothing can occur at the beginning of the Dame School. The student’s books arrived already last week with the diligence from London and the parchment papers first necessary, I have bought today. The children will use last fall’s quill pens and ink wells. It is not entirely sure, but I have been told today at Mr. Brettville’s blacksmith that his oldest son Philbert, will attend the class, as well. I am nothing but the most exited to teach children as Dominic, Torphin, Maulore, Fremin, Russel, Norma, Jeromia and the twins Dorcas and Dinah. Besides our ordinary lecture and calligraphy class I am most impatient to instill in the children the endearment for art dancing such as minuet, allemande, courante, and sarabande. Considered to enforce in the children craftsmen’s handiness, shall spinning, weaving and soap makings class, stimulate their sense of merchandise. In between all these educationall strongholds, I shall be able to accompany Mr. and Mrs. Glanville as well as recently couple Middleton, to the Swan Theater to see the most recent play, The Isle of Dogs, written by Thomas Nashe and Ben Jonson. As I understood from the ladies reviews at the last assembly at Mrs. Loucelles, it is expected to be an extremely controversial satire about the Queens Courtiers. Hopefully, Sir Thomas and Ben Jonson shall not have the faith of poor Mr. Marlow, God rest his soul. Such an atrocious murder over such an extraordinary gifted, young talent. It was such a bless, shortly after his death to applaud his last achievement, The Troublesome Reign and Lamentable Death of Edward the Second, King of England, with the Tragically Fall of Proud Mortimer, performed by Sir Henry Herbert’s troupe of actors Earl of Pembroke’s Men. Nobility’s class or knights, land owners or paupers, to all of these, His Majesty Theatret is giving a royal feast. And a spouse, I might enclose. For as long as I shall live, I will always remember Sir William Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost and Chamberlain's Men masterly representation, who’s performance brought me and my beloved one Damian to our introducing. As equally treasured kept in my heart shall remain Sir Edmund Spencer’s memorable Tears of the muses for its precious sense and delightful rhyme:
Through knowledge we behold the worlds creation,
How in his cradle first he fostred was:
And iudge of Natures cunning operation,
How things she formed of a formlesse mas:
By knowledge wee doo learne our selues to knowe,
And what to man, and what to God wee owe.
From hence wee mount aloft vnto the skie,
And looke into the Christall firmament,
There we behold the heauens great Hierarchie,
The Starres pure light, the Spheres swift mouement,
The Spirites and Intelligences fayre,
And Angels waighting on th' Almighties chayre.
And there with humble minde and high insight,
Th'eternall Makers maiestie wee viewe,
His loue, his truth, his glorie, and his might,
And mercie more than mortall men can vew.
O soueraigne Lord, ô soueraigne happinesse
To see thee, and thy mercie measurelesse:
Such happiness haue they, that do embrace
The precepts of my heauenlie discipline;
But shame and sorrow and accursed case
Haue they, that scorne the schoole of arts diuine,
And banish me, which do professe the skill
To make men heauenly wise, through humbled will.
By Carmen Nymoen
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