I Am almost ashamed, my dearest Peter Giles, to send you this Book of the Utopian Common-Wealth, after almost a Years delay; whereas no doubt you look›d for it within six Weeks: for as you know I had no occasion for using my Invention, or for taking pains to put things into any method, because I had nothing to do, but to repeat exactly those things that I heard Raphael relate in your presence; so neither was there any occasion given for a studied Eloquence: since as he delivered things to us of the sudden, and in a careless Stile; so he being, as you know, a greater Master of the Greek, than of the Latin; the plainer my words are, they will resemble his simplicity the more: and will be by consequence the nearer to the Truth, and that is all that I think lies on me: and it is indeed the only thing in which I thought my self concerned. I confess, I had very little left on me in this Matter, for otherwise the inventing and ordering of such a Scheme, would have put a Man of an ordinary pitch, either of Capacity, or of Learning, to some pains, and have cost him some time; but if it had been necessary that this Relation should have been made, not only truly, but eloquently, it could never have been performed by me, even after all the pains and time that I could have bestowed upon it. My part in it was so very small, that it could not give me much trouble, all that belonged to me being only to give a true and full account of the things that I had heard: but although this required so very little of my time; yet even that little was long denied me by my other Affairs, which press much upon me: for while in pleading, and hearing, and in judging or composing of Causes, in waiting on some Men upon Business, and on others out of Respect, the greatest part of the Day is spent on other Mens Affairs, the remainder of it must be given to my Family at home: So that I can reserve no part of it to my self, that is, to my Study: I must talk with my Wife, and chat with my Children, and I have somewhat to say to my Servants; for all these things I reckon as a part of Business, except a Man will resolve to be a Stranger at Home: and with whomsoever either Nature, Chance, or Choice has engaged a Man, in any Commerce, he must endeavour to make himself as acceptable to these about him, as he possibly can; using still such a temper in it, that he may not spoil them by an excessive gentleness, so that his Servants may not become his Masters. In such things as I have named to you, do Days, Months, and Years slip away; what is then left for Writing? and yet I have said nothing of that time that must go for Sleep, or for Meat: in which many do waste almost as much of their time, as in Sleep, which consumes very near the half of our Life; and indeed all the time which I can gain to my self, is that which I steal from my Sleep and my Meals; and because that is not much, I have made but a slow progress; yet because it is somewhat, I have at last got to an end of my Utopia, which I now send to you, and expect that after you have read it, you will let me know if you can put me in mind of any thing that has escaped me; for tho I would think my self very happy, if I had but as much Invention and Learning as I know I have Memory, which makes me generally depend much upon it, yet I do not relie so entirely on it, as to think I can forget nothing.

My Servant John Clement has started some things that shake me: You know he was present with us, as I think he ought to be at every Conversation that may be of use to him, for I promise my self great Matters from the progress he has so early made in the Greek and Roman Learning. As far as my Memory serves me, the Bridg over Anider at Amaurot, was 500 paces broad, according to Raphael’s account; but John assures me, he spoke only of 300 paces; therefore I pray you recollect what you can remember of this, for if you agree with him, I will believe that I have been mistaken; but if you remember nothing of it, I will not alter what I have written, because it is according to the best of my remembrance: for as I will take care that there may be nothing falsly set down; so if there is any thing doubtful, tho I may perhaps tell a lie, yet I am sure I will not make one; for I would rather pass for a good Man, than for a wise Man: but it will be easy to correct this Mistake, if you can either meet with Raphael himself, or know how to write to him.

I have another Difficulty that presses me more, and makes your writing to him the more necessary: I know not whom I ought to blame for it, whether Raphael, you, or my self; for as we did not think of asking it, so neither did he of telling us, in what part of the newfound World Utopia is situated; this was such an omission that I would gladly redeem it at any rate: I am ashamed, that after I have told so many things concerning this Island, I cannot let my Readers know in what Sea it lies. There are some among us that have a mighty desire to go thither, and in particular, one pious Divine is very earnest on it, not so much out of a vain curiosity of seeing unknown Countries, as that he may advance our Religion, which is so happily begun to be planted there; and that he may do this regularly, he intends to procure a Mission from the Pope, and to be sent thither as their Bishop. In such a case as this, he makes no scruple of aspiring to that Character, and thinks it is rather meritorious to be ambitious of it, when one desires it only for advancing the Christian Religion, and not for any Honour or Advantage that may be had by it, but is acted meerly by a pious Zeal. Therefore I earnestly beg it of you, if you can possibly meet with Raphael, or if you know how to write to him, that you will be pleased to inform your self of these things, that there may be no falshood left in my Book, nor any important Truth wanting. And perhaps it will not be unfit to let him see the Book it self: for as no Man can correct any Errors that may be in it, so well as he; so by reading it, he will be able to give a more perfect judgment of it than he can do upon any Discourse concerning it: and you will be likewise able to discover whether this Undertaking of mine is acceptable to him or not; for if he intends to write a Relation of his Travels, perhaps he will not be pleased that I should prevent him, in that part that belongs to the Utopian Common-Wealth; since if I should do so, his Book will not surprize the World with the pleasure which this new Discovery will give the Age. And I am so little fond of appearing in print upon this occasion, that if he dislikes it, I will lay it aside; And even though he should approve of it, I am not positively determined as to the publishing of it. Mens tastes differ much; some are of so morose a Temper, so sour a Disposition, and make such absurd Iudgments of Things, that Men of chearful and lively Tempers, who indulge their Genius, seem much more happy, than those who waste their time and strength in order to the publishing some Book, that tho of it self it might be useful or pleasant, yet instead of being well received, will be sure to be either loathed at, or censured. Many know nothing of Learning, and others despise it: a Man that is accustomed to a course and harsh Sile, thinks every thing is rough that is not barbarous. Our trifling Pretenders to Learning, think all is slight that is not drest up in words that are worn out of use; some love only old things, and many like nothing but what is their own. Some are so sour, that they can allow no Jests, and others are so dull that they can endure nothing that is sharp; and some are as much afraid of any thing that is quick or lively, as a Man bit with a mad Dog is of Water; others are so light and unsetled, that their Thoughts change as quick as they do their Postures: and some, when they meet in Taverns, take upon them among their Cups to pass Censures very freely on all Writers; and with a supercilious liberty to condemn every thing that they do not like: in which they have the advantage that a bald Man has, who can catch hold of another by the Hair, while the other cannot return the like upon him. They are safe as it were of Gunshot, since there is nothing in them considerable enough to be taken hold of. And some are so unthankful, that even when they are well pleased with a Book, yet they think they owe nothing to the Author; and are like those rude Guests, who after they have been well entertained at a good Dinner, go away when they have glutted their Appetites, without so much as thanking him that treated them. But who would put himself to the charge of making a Feast for Men of such nice Palats, and so different Tastes; who are so forgetful of the Civilities that are done them? But do you once clear those Points with Raphael, and then it will be time enough to consider whether it be fit to publish it or not; for since I have been at the pains to write it, if he consents to the publishing it, I will follow my Friend’s Advice, and chiefly yours. Farewel my dear Peter, commend me kindly to your good Wise, and love me still as you use to do, for I assure you I love you daily more and more.