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diff --git a/1962-h/1962-h.htm b/1962-h/1962-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c5109c --- /dev/null +++ b/1962-h/1962-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4621 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>A Defence of Poesie and Poems, by Philip Sidney</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Defence of Poesie and Poems, by Philip +Sidney, Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: A Defence of Poesie and Poems + + +Author: Philip Sidney + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: October 8, 2014 [eBook #1962] +[This file was first posted on March 18, 1999] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DEFENCE OF POESIE AND POEMS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1891 Cassell & Company edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<h1>A <span class="smcap">Defence of Poesie</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">and</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Poems</span>.</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br /> +<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">, </span><span class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS & +MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1891.</span></p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Philip Sidney</span> was born at +Penshurst, in Kent, on the 29th of November, 1554. His +father, Sir Henry Sidney, had married Mary, eldest daughter of +John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, and Philip was the eldest of +their family of three sons and four daughters. Edmund +Spenser and Walter Raleigh were of like age with Philip Sidney, +differing only by about a year, and when Elizabeth became queen, +on the 17th of November, 1558, they were children of four or five +years old.</p> +<p>In the year 1560 Sir Henry Sidney was made Lord President of +Wales, representing the Queen in Wales and the four adjacent +western counties, as a Lord Deputy represented her in +Ireland. The official residence of the Lord President was +at Ludlow Castle, to which Philip Sidney went with his family +when a child of six. In the same year his father was +installed as a Knight of the Garter. When in his tenth year +Philip Sidney was sent from Ludlow to Shrewsbury Grammar School, +where he studied for three or four years, and had among his +schoolfellows Fulke Greville, afterwards Lord Brooke, who +remained until the end of Sidney’s life one of his closest +friends. When he himself was dying he directed that he +should be described upon his tomb as “Fulke Greville, +servant to Queen Elizabeth, counsellor to King James, and friend +to Sir Philip Sidney.” Even Dr. Thomas Thornton, +Canon of Christ Church, Oxford, under whom Sidney was placed when +he was entered to Christ Church in his fourteenth year, at +Midsummer, in 1568, had it afterwards recorded on his tomb that +he was “the tutor of Sir Philip Sidney.”</p> +<p>Sidney was in his eighteenth year in May, 1572, when he left +the University to continue his training for the service of the +state, by travel on the Continent. Licensed to travel with +horses for himself and three servants, Philip Sidney left London +in the train of the Earl of Lincoln, who was going out as +ambassador to Charles IX., in Paris. He was in Paris on the +24th of August in that year, which was the day of the Massacre of +St. Bartholomew. He was sheltered from the dangers of that +day in the house of the English Ambassador, Sir Francis +Walsingham, whose daughter Fanny Sidney married twelve years +afterwards.</p> +<p>From Paris Sidney travelled on by way of Heidelberg to +Frankfort, where he lodged at a printer’s, and found a warm +friend in Hubert Languet, whose letters to him have been +published. Sidney was eighteen and Languet fifty-five, a +French Huguenot, learned and zealous for the Protestant cause, +who had been Professor of Civil Law in Padua, and who was acting +as secret minister for the Elector of Saxony when he first knew +Sidney, and saw in him a future statesman whose character and +genius would give him weight in the counsels of England, and make +him a main hope of the Protestant cause in Europe. Sidney +travelled on with Hubert Languet from Frankfort to Vienna, +visited Hungary, then passed to Italy, making for eight weeks +Venice his head-quarters, and then giving six weeks to +Padua. He returned through Germany to England, and was in +attendance it the Court of Queen Elizabeth in July, 1575. +Next month his father was sent to Ireland as Lord Deputy, and +Sidney lived in London with his mother.</p> +<p>At this time the opposition of the Mayor and Corporation of +the City of London to the acting of plays by servants of +Sidney’s uncle, the Earl of Leicester, who had obtained a +patent for them, obliged the actors to cease from hiring rooms or +inn yards in the City, and build themselves a house of their own +a little way outside one of the City gates, and wholly outside +the Lord Mayor’s jurisdiction. Thus the first theatre +came to be built in England in the year 1576. Shakespeare +was then but twelve years old, and it was ten years later that he +came to London.</p> +<p>In February, 1577, Philip Sidney, not yet twenty-three years +old, was sent on a formal embassy of congratulation to Rudolph +II. upon his becoming Emperor of Germany, but under the duties of +the formal embassy was the charge of watching for opportunities +of helping forward a Protestant League among the princes of +Germany. On his way home through the Netherlands he was to +convey Queen Elizabeth’s congratulations to William of +Orange on the birth of his first child, and what impression he +made upon that leader of men is shown by a message William sent +afterwards through Fulke Greville to Queen Elizabeth. He +said “that if he could judge, her Majesty had one of the +ripest and greatest counsellors of State in Philip Sidney that +then lived in Europe; to the trial of which he was pleased to +leave his own credit engaged until her Majesty was pleased to +employ this gentleman, either amongst her friends or +enemies.”</p> +<p>Sidney returned from his embassy in June, 1577. At the +time of his departure, in the preceding February, his sister +Mary, then twenty years old, had become the third wife of Henry +Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and her new home as Countess of +Pembroke was in the great house at Wilton, about three miles from +Salisbury. She had a measure of her brother’s genius, +and was of like noble strain. Spenser described her as</p> +<blockquote><p>“The gentlest shepherdess that lives this +day,<br /> +And most resembling, both in shape and spright,<br /> +Her brother dear.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Ben Jonson, long after her brother had passed from earth, +wrote upon her death the well-known epitaph:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Underneath this sable herse<br /> +Lies the subject of all verse,<br /> +Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother.<br /> +Death, ere thou hast slain another,<br /> +Learn’d, and fair, and good as she,<br /> +Time shall throw a dart at thee.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Sidney’s sister became Pembroke’s mother in 1580, +while her brother Philip was staying with her at Wilton. He +had early in the year written a long argument to the Queen +against the project of her marriage with the Duke of Anjou, which +she then found it politic to seem to favour. She liked +Sidney well, but resented, or appeared to resent, his intrusion +of advice; he also was discontented with what seemed to be her +policy, and he withdrew from Court for a time. That time of +seclusion, after the end of March, 1580, he spent with his sister +at Wilton. They versified psalms together; and he began to +write for her amusement when she had her baby first upon her +hands, his romance of “Arcadia.” It was never +finished. Much was written at Wilton in the summer of 1580, +the rest in 1581, written, as he said in a letter to her, +“only for you, only to you . . . for severer eyes it is +not, being but a trifle, triflingly handled. Your dear self +can best witness the manner, being done in loose sheets of paper, +most of it in your presence, the rest by sheets sent unto you as +fast as they were done.” He never meant that it +should be published; indeed, when dying he asked that it should +be destroyed; but it belonged to a sister who prized the lightest +word of his, and after his death it was published in 1590 as +“The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia.”</p> +<p>The book reprinted in this volume was written in 1581, while +sheets of the “Arcadia” were still being sent to +Wilton. But it differs wholly in style from the +“Arcadia.” Sidney’s “Arcadia” +has literary interest as the first important example of the union +of pastoral with heroic romance, out of which came presently, in +France, a distinct school of fiction. But the genius of its +author was at play, it followed designedly the fashions of the +hour in verse and prose, which tended to extravagance of +ingenuity. The “Defence of Poesy” has higher +interest as the first important piece of literary criticism in +our literature. Here Sidney was in earnest. His style +is wholly free from the euphuistic extravagance in which readers +of his time delighted: it is clear, direct, and manly; not the +less, but the more, thoughtful and refined for its unaffected +simplicity. As criticism it is of the true sort; not +captious or formal, still less engaged, as nearly all bad +criticism is, more or less, with indirect suggestion of the +critic himself as the one owl in a world of mice. Philip +Sidney’s care is towards the end of good literature. +He looks for highest aims, and finds them in true work, and hears +God’s angel in the poet’s song.</p> +<p>The writing of this piece was probably suggested to him by the +fact that an earnest young student, Stephen Gosson, who came from +his university about the time when the first theatres were built, +and wrote plays, was turned by the bias of his mind into +agreement with the Puritan attacks made by the pulpit on the +stage (arising chiefly from the fact that plays were then acted +on Sundays), and in 1579 transferred his pen from service of the +players to attack on them, in a piece which he called “The +School of Abuse, containing a Pleasant Invective against Poets, +Pipers, Players, Jesters, and such like Caterpillars of a +Commonwealth; setting up the Flag of Defiance to their +mischievous exercise, and overthrowing their Bulwarks, by Profane +Writers, Natural Reason, and Common Experience: a Discourse as +pleasant for Gentlemen that favour Learning as profitable for all +that will follow Virtue.” This Discourse Gosson +dedicated “To the right noble Gentleman, Master Philip +Sidney, Esquire.” Sidney himself wrote verse, he was +companion with the poets, and counted Edmund Spenser among his +friends. Gosson’s pamphlet was only one expression of +the narrow form of Puritan opinion that had been misled into +attacks on poetry and music as feeders of idle appetite that +withdrew men from the life of duty. To show the fallacy in +such opinion, Philip Sidney wrote in 1581 this piece, which was +first printed in 1595, nine years after his death, as a separate +publication, entitled “An Apologie for +Poetrie.” Three years afterwards it was added, with +other pieces, to the third edition of his “Arcadia,” +and then entitled “The Defence of Poesie.” In +sixteen subsequent editions it continued to appear as “The +Defence of Poesie.” The same title was used in the +separate editions of 1752 and 1810. Professor Edward Arber +re-issued in 1869 the text of the first edition of 1595, and +restored the original title, which probably was that given to the +piece by its author. One name is as good as the other, but +as the word “apology” has somewhat changed its sense +in current English, it may be well to go on calling the work +“The Defence of Poesie.”</p> +<p>In 1583 Sidney was knighted, and soon afterwards in the same +year he married Frances, daughter of Sir Francis +Walsingham. Sonnets written by him according to old +fashion, and addressed to a lady in accordance with a form of +courtesy that in the same old fashion had always been held to +exclude personal suit—personal suit was private, and not +public—have led to grave misapprehension among some +critics. They supposed that he desired marriage with +Penelope Devereux, who was forced by her family in +1580—then eighteen years old—into a hateful marriage +with Lord Rich. It may be enough to say that if Philip +Sidney had desired her for his wife, he had only to ask for her +and have her. Her father, when dying, had desired—as +any father might—that his daughter might become the wife of +Philip Sidney. But this is not the place for a discussion +of Astrophel and Stella sonnets.</p> +<p>In 1585 Sidney was planning to join Drake it sea in attack on +Spain in the West Indies. He was stayed by the Queen. +But when Elizabeth declared war on behalf of the Reformed Faith, +and sent Leicester with an expedition to the Netherlands, Sir +Philip Sidney went out, in November, 1585, as Governor of +Flushing. His wife joined him there. He fretted at +inaction, and made the value of his counsels so distinct that his +uncle Leicester said after his death that he began by +“despising his youth for a counsellor, not without bearing +a hand over him as a forward young man. Notwithstanding, in +a short time he saw the sun so risen above his horizon that both +he and all his stars were glad to fetch light from +him.” In May, 1586, Sir Philip Sidney received news +of the death of his father. In August his mother +died. In September he joined in the investment of +Zutphen. On the 22nd of September his thigh-bone was +shattered by a musket ball from the trenches. His horse +took fright and galloped back, but the wounded man held to his +seat. He was then carried to his uncle, asked for water, +and when it was given, saw a dying soldier carried past, who eyed +it greedily. At once he gave the water to the soldier, +saying, “Thy necessity is yet greater than +mine.” Sidney lived on, patient in suffering, until +the 17th of October. When he was speechless before death, +one who stood by asked Philip Sidney for a sign of his continued +trust in God. He folded his hands as in prayer over his +breast, and so they were become fixed and chill, when the +watchers placed them by his side; and in a few minutes the +stainless representative of the young manhood of Elizabethan +England passed away.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p> +<h2><span class="smcap">An Apologie For Poetrie</span>.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the right virtuous Edward +Wotton <a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" +class="citation">[1]</a> and I were at the Emperor’s court +together, we gave ourselves to learn horsemanship of Gio. Pietro +Pugliano; one that, with great commendation, had the place of an +esquire in his stable; and he, according to the fertileness of +the Italian wit, did not only afford us the demonstration of his +practice, but sought to enrich our minds with the contemplation +therein, which he thought most precious. But with none, I +remember, mine ears were at any time more laden, than when +(either angered with slow payment, or moved with our learner-like +admiration) he exercised his speech in the praise of his +faculty.</p> +<p>He said, soldiers were the noblest estate of mankind, and +horsemen the noblest of soldiers. He said, they were the +masters of war and ornaments of peace, speedy goers, and strong +abiders, triumphers both in camps and courts; nay, to so +unbelieved a point he proceeded, as that no earthly thing bred +such wonder to a prince, as to be a good horseman; skill of +government was but a “pedanteria” in +comparison. Then would he add certain praises by telling +what a peerless beast the horse was, the only serviceable +courtier, without flattery, the beast of most beauty, +faithfulness, courage, and such more, that if I had not been a +piece of a logician before I came to him, I think he would have +persuaded me to have wished myself a horse. But thus much, +at least, with his no few words, he drove into me, that self love +is better than any gilding, to make that seem gorgeous wherein +ourselves be parties.</p> +<p>Wherein, if Pugliano’s strong affection and weak +arguments will not satisfy you, I will give you a nearer example +of myself, who, I know not by what mischance, in these my not old +years and idlest times, having slipped into the title of a poet, +am provoked to say something unto you in the defence of that my +unelected vocation; which if I handle with more good will than +good reasons, bear with me, since the scholar is to be pardoned +that followeth the steps of his master.</p> +<p>And yet I must say, that as I have more just cause to make a +pitiful defence of poor poetry, which, from almost the highest +estimation of learning, is fallen to be the laughing-stock of +children; so have I need to bring some more available proofs, +since the former is by no man barred of his deserved credit, +whereas the silly latter hath had even the names of philosophers +used to the defacing of it, with great danger of civil war among +the Muses. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2" +class="citation">[2]</a></p> +<p>At first, truly, to all them that, professing learning, +inveigh against poetry, may justly be objected, that they go very +near to ungratefulness to seek to deface that which, in the +noblest nations and languages that are known, hath been the first +light-giver to ignorance, and first nurse, whose milk by little +and little enabled them to feed afterwards of tougher +knowledges. And will you play the hedgehog, that being +received into the den, drove out his host? <a +name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3" +class="citation">[3]</a> or rather the vipers, that with their +birth kill their parents? <a name="citation4"></a><a +href="#footnote4" class="citation">[4]</a></p> +<p>Let learned Greece, in any of her manifold sciences, be able +to show me one book before Musæus, Homer, and Hesiod, all +three nothing else but poets. Nay, let any history he +brought that can say any writers were there before them, if they +were not men of the same skill, as Orpheus, Linus, and some +others are named, who having been the first of that country that +made pens deliverers of their knowledge to posterity, may justly +challenge to be called their fathers in learning. For not +only in time they had this priority (although in itself antiquity +be venerable) but went before them as causes to draw with their +charming sweetness the wild untamed wits to an admiration of +knowledge. So as Amphion was said to move stones with his +poetry to build Thebes, and Orpheus to be listened to by beasts, +indeed, stony and beastly people, so among the Romans were Livius +Andronicus, and Ennius; so in the Italian language, the first +that made it to aspire to be a treasure-house of science, were +the poets Dante, Boccace, and Petrarch; so in our English were +Gower and Chaucer; after whom, encouraged and delighted with +their excellent foregoing, others have followed to beautify our +mother tongue, as well in the same kind as other arts.</p> +<p>This <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a> did so notably show itself that the +philosophers of Greece durst not a long time appear to the world +but under the mask of poets; so Thales, Empedocles, and +Parmenides sang their natural philosophy in verses; so did +Pythagoras and Phocylides their moral counsels; so did +Tyrtæus in war matters; and Solon in matters of policy; or +rather they, being poets, did exercise their delightful vein in +those points of highest knowledge, which before them lay hidden +to the world; for that wise Solon was directly a poet it is +manifest, having written in verse the notable fable of the +Atlantic Island, which was continued by Plato. <a +name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6" +class="citation">[6]</a> And, truly, even Plato, whosoever +well considereth shall find that in the body of his work, though +the inside and strength were philosophy, the skin, as it were, +and beauty depended most of poetry. For all stands upon +dialogues; wherein he feigns many honest burgesses of Athens +speaking of such matters that if they had been set on the rack +they would never have confessed them; besides, his poetical +describing the circumstances of their meetings, as the +well-ordering of a banquet, the delicacy of a walk, with +interlacing mere tiles, as Gyges’s Ring, <a +name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a> and others; which, who knows not to be +flowers of poetry, did never walk into Apollo’s garden.</p> +<p>And <a name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8" +class="citation">[8]</a> even historiographers, although their +lips sound of things done, and verity be written in their +foreheads, have been glad to borrow both fashion and, perchance, +weight of the poets; so Herodotus entitled the books of his +history by the names of the Nine Muses; and both he, and all the +rest that followed him, either stole or usurped, of poetry, their +passionate describing of passions, the many particularities of +battles which no man could affirm; or, if that be denied me, long +orations, put in the months of great kings and captains, which it +is certain they never pronounced.</p> +<p>So that, truly, neither philosopher nor historiographer could, +at the first, have entered into the gates of popular judgments, +if they had not taken a great disport of poetry; which in all +nations, at this day, where learning flourisheth not, is plain to +be seen; in all which they have some feeling of poetry. In +Turkey, besides their lawgiving divines they have no other +writers but poets. In our neighbour-country Ireland, where, +too, learning goes very bare, yet are their poets held in a +devout reverence. Even among the most barbarous and simple +Indians, where no writing is, yet have they their poets who make +and sing songs, which they call “Arentos,” both of +their ancestor’s deeds and praises of their gods. A +sufficient probability, that if ever learning comes among them, +it must be by having their hard dull wits softened and sharpened +with the sweet delight of poetry; for until they find a pleasure +in the exercise of the mind, great promises of much knowledge +will little persuade them that know not the fruits of +knowledge. In Wales, the true remnant of the ancient +Britons, as there are good authorities to show the long time they +had poets, which they called bards, so through all the conquests +of Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, some of whom did seek to +ruin all memory of learning from among them, yet do their poets, +even to this day, last; so as it is not more notable in the soon +beginning than in long-continuing.</p> +<p>But since the authors of most of our sciences were the Romans, +and before them the Greeks, let us, a little, stand upon their +authorities; but even so far, as to see what names they have +given unto this now scorned skill. <a name="citation9"></a><a +href="#footnote9" class="citation">[9]</a> Among the Romans +a poet was called “vates,” which is as much as a +diviner, foreseer, or prophet, as by his conjoined words +“vaticinium,” and “vaticinari,” is +manifest; so heavenly a title did that excellent people bestow +upon this heart-ravishing knowledge! And so far were they +carried into the admiration thereof, that they thought in the +changeable hitting upon any such verses, great foretokens of +their following fortunes were placed. Whereupon grew the +word of sortes Virgilianæ; when, by sudden opening +Virgil’s book, they lighted upon some verse, as it is +reported by many, whereof the histories of the Emperors’ +lives are full. As of Albinus, the governor of our island, +who, in his childhood, met with this verse—</p> +<blockquote><p>Arma amens capio, nec sat rationis in armis</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and in his age performed it. Although it were a very +vain and godless superstition; as also it was, to think spirits +were commanded by such verses; whereupon this word charms, +derived of “carmina,” cometh, so yet serveth it to +show the great reverence those wits were held in; and altogether +not without ground, since both the oracles of Delphi and the +Sibyl’s prophecies were wholly delivered in verses; for +that same exquisite observing of number and measure in the words, +and that high-flying liberty of conceit proper to the poet, did +seem to have some divine force in it.</p> +<p>And <a name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10" +class="citation">[10]</a> may not I presume a little farther to +show the reasonableness of this word “vates,” and +say, that the holy David’s Psalms are a divine poem? +If I do, I shall not do it without the testimony of great learned +men, both ancient and modern. But even the name of Psalms +will speak for me, which, being interpreted, is nothing but +Songs; then, that is fully written in metre, as all learned +Hebricians agree, although the rules be not yet fully +found. Lastly, and principally, his handling his prophecy, +which is merely poetical. For what else is the awaking his +musical instruments; the often and free changing of persons; his +notable prosopopoeias, when he maketh you, as it were, see God +coming in His majesty; his telling of the beasts’ +joyfulness, and hills leaping; but a heavenly poesy, wherein, +almost, he sheweth himself a passionate lover of that unspeakable +and everlasting beauty, to be seen by the eyes of the mind, only +cleared by faith? But truly, now, having named him, I fear +I seem to profane that holy name, applying it to poetry, which +is, among us, thrown down to so ridiculous an estimation. +But they that, with quiet judgments, will look a little deeper +into it, shall find the end and working of it such, as, being +rightly applied, deserveth not to be scourged out of the church +of God.</p> +<p>But <a name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11" +class="citation">[11]</a> now let us see how the Greeks have +named it, and how they deemed of it. The Greeks named him +ποιητὴν, which name hath, as the +most excellent, gone through other languages; it cometh of this +word ποιεὶν, which is <i>to +make</i>; wherein, I know not whether by luck or wisdom, we +Englishmen have met with the Greeks in calling him “a +maker,” which name, how high and incomparable a title it +is, I had rather were known by marking the scope of other +sciences, than by any partial allegation. There is no art +delivered unto mankind that hath not the works of nature for his +principal object, without which they could not consist, and on +which they so depend as they become actors and players, as it +were, of what nature will have set forth. <a +name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12" +class="citation">[12]</a> So doth the astronomer look upon +the stars, and by that he seeth set down what order nature hath +taken therein. So doth the geometrician and arithmetician, +in their diverse sorts of quantities. So doth the musician, +in times, tell you which by nature agree, which not. The +natural philosopher thereon hath his name; and the moral +philosopher standeth upon the natural virtues, vices, or passions +of man; and follow nature, saith he, therein, and thou shalt not +err. The lawyer saith what men have determined. The +historian, what men have done. The grammarian speaketh only +of the rules of speech; and the rhetorician and logician, +considering what in nature will soonest prove and persuade, +thereon give artificial rules, which still are compassed within +the circle of a question, according to the proposed matter. +The physician weigheth the nature of man’s body, and the +nature of things helpful and hurtful unto it. And the +metaphysic, though it be in the second and abstract notions, and +therefore be counted supernatural, yet doth he, indeed, build +upon the depth of nature. Only the poet, disdaining to be +tied to any such subjection, lifted up with the vigour of his own +invention, doth grow, in effect, into another nature; in making +things either better than nature bringeth forth, or quite anew; +forms such as never were in nature, as the heroes, demi-gods, +Cyclops, chimeras, furies, and such like; so as he goeth hand in +hand with Nature, not enclosed within the narrow warrant of her +gifts, but freely ranging within the zodiac of his own wit. <a +name="citation13"></a><a href="#footnote13" +class="citation">[13]</a> Nature never set forth the +earth in so rich tapestry as divers poets have done; neither with +so pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, sweet-smelling flowers, nor +whatsoever else may make the too-much-loved earth more lovely; +her world is brazen, the poets only deliver a golden.</p> +<p>But let those things alone, and go to man; <a +name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14" +class="citation">[14]</a> for whom as the other things are, so it +seemeth in him her uttermost cunning is employed; and know, +whether she have brought forth so true a lover as Theagenes; so +constant a friend as Pylades; so valiant a man as Orlando; so +right a prince as Xenophon’s Cyrus; and so excellent a man +every way as Virgil’s Æneas? Neither let this +be jestingly conceived, because the works of the one be +essential, the other in imitation or fiction; for every +understanding knoweth the skill of each artificer standeth in +that idea, or fore-conceit of the work, and not in the work +itself. And that the poet hath that idea is manifest by +delivering them forth in such excellency as he had imagined them; +which delivering forth, also, is not wholly imaginative, as we +are wont to say by them that build castles in the air; but so far +substantially it worketh not only to make a Cyrus, which had been +but a particular excellency, as nature might have done; but to +bestow a Cyrus upon the world to make many Cyruses; if they will +learn aright, why, and how, that maker made him. Neither +let it be deemed too saucy a comparison to balance the highest +point of man’s wit with the efficacy of nature; but rather +give right honour to the heavenly Maker of that maker, who having +made man to His own likeness, set him beyond and over all the +works of that second nature; which in nothing he showeth so much +as in poetry; when, with the force of a divine breath, he +bringeth things forth surpassing her doings, with no small +arguments to the incredulous of that first accursed fall of Adam; +since our erected wit maketh us know what perfection is, and yet +our infected will keepeth us from reaching unto it. But +these arguments will by few be understood, and by fewer granted; +thus much I hope will be given me, that the Greeks, with some +probability of reason, gave him the name above all names of +learning.</p> +<p>Now <a name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15" +class="citation">[15]</a> let us go to a more ordinary opening of +him, that the truth may be the more palpable; and so, I hope, +though we get not so unmatched a praise as the etymology of his +names will grant, yet his very description, which no man will +deny, shall not justly be barred from a principal +commendation.</p> +<p>Poesy, <a name="citation16"></a><a href="#footnote16" +class="citation">[16]</a> therefore, is an art of imitation; for +so Aristotle termeth it in the word +μίμησις; that is to say, a +representing, counterfeiting, or figuring forth: to speak +metaphorically, a speaking picture, with this end, to teach and +delight.</p> +<p>Of <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17" +class="citation">[17]</a> this have been three general kinds: the +<i>chief</i>, both in antiquity and excellency, which they that +did imitate the inconceivable excellencies of God; such were +David in the Psalms; Solomon in the Song of Songs, in his +Ecclesiastes, and Proverbs; Moses and Deborah in their hymns; and +the writer of Job; which, beside others, the learned Emanuel +Tremellius and Fr. Junius do entitle the poetical part of the +scripture; against these none will speak that hath the Holy Ghost +in due holy reverence. In this kind, though in a wrong +divinity, were Orpheus, Amphion, Homer in his hymns, and many +others, both Greeks and Romans. And this poesy must be used +by whosoever will follow St. Paul’s counsel, in singing +psalms when they are merry; and I know is used with the fruit of +comfort by some, when, in sorrowful pangs of their death-bringing +sins, they find the consolation of the never-leaving +goodness.</p> +<p>The <a name="citation18"></a><a href="#footnote18" +class="citation">[18]</a> <i>second</i> kind is of them that deal +with matter philosophical; either moral, as Tyrtæus, +Phocylides, Cato, or, natural, as Lucretius, Virgil’s +Georgics; or astronomical, as Manilius <a +name="citation19"></a><a href="#footnote19" +class="citation">[19]</a> and Pontanus; or historical, as Lucan; +which who mislike, the fault is in their judgment, quite out of +taste, and not in the sweet food of sweetly uttered +knowledge.</p> +<p>But because this second sort is wrapped within the fold of the +proposed subject, and takes not the free course of his own +invention; whether they properly be poets or no, let grammarians +dispute, and go to the <i>third</i>, <a name="citation20"></a><a +href="#footnote20" class="citation">[20]</a> indeed right poets, +of whom chiefly this question ariseth; betwixt whom and these +second is such a kind of difference, as betwixt the meaner sort +of painters, who counterfeit only such faces as are set before +them; and the more excellent, who having no law but wit, bestow +that in colours upon you which is fittest for the eye to see; as +the constant, though lamenting look of Lucretia, when she +punished in herself another’s fault; wherein he painteth +not Lucretia, whom he never saw, but painteth the outward beauty +of such a virtue. For these three be they which most +properly do imitate to teach and delight; and to imitate, borrow +nothing of what is, hath been, or shall be; but range only, +reined with learned discretion, into the divine consideration of +what may be, and should be. These be they, that, as the +first and most noble sort, may justly be termed +“vates;” so these are waited on in the excellentest +languages and best understandings, with the fore-described name +of poets. For these, indeed, do merely make to imitate, and +imitate both to delight and teach, and delight to move men to +take that goodness in hand, which, without delight they would fly +as from a stranger; and teach to make them know that goodness +whereunto they are moved; which being the noblest scope to which +ever any learning was directed, yet want there not idle tongues +to bark at them.</p> +<p>These <a name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21" +class="citation">[21]</a> be subdivided into sundry more special +denominations; the most notable be the heroic, lyric, tragic, +comic, satyric, iambic, elegiac, pastoral, and certain others; +some of these being termed according to the matter they deal +with; some by the sort of verse they like best to write in; for, +indeed, the greatest part of poets have apparelled their poetical +inventions in that numerous kind of writing which is called +verse. Indeed, but apparelied verse, being but an ornament, +and no cause to poetry, since there have been many most excellent +poets that never versified, and now swarm many versifiers that +need never answer to the name of poets. <a +name="citation22"></a><a href="#footnote22" +class="citation">[22]</a> For Xenophon, who did imitate so +excellently as to give us <i>effigiem justi imperii</i>, the +portraiture of a just of Cyrus, as Cicero saith of him, made +therein an absolute heroical poem. So did Heliodorus, <a +name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23" +class="citation">[23]</a> in his sugared invention of Theagenes +and Chariclea; and yet both these wrote in prose; which I speak +to show, that it is not rhyming and versing that maketh a poet +(no more than a long gown maketh an advocate, who, though he +pleaded in armour should be an advocate and no soldier); but it +is that feigning notable images of virtues, vices, or what else, +with that delightful teaching, which must be the right describing +note to know a poet by. Although, indeed, the senate of +poets have chosen verse as their fittest raiment; meaning, as in +matter they passed all in all, so in manner to go beyond them; +not speaking table-talk fashion, or like men in a dream, words as +they changeably fall from the mouth, but piecing each syllable of +each word by just proportion, according to the dignity of the +subject.</p> +<p>Now, <a name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24" +class="citation">[24]</a> therefore, it shall not be amiss, +first, to weight this latter sort of poetry by his <i>works</i>, +and then by his <i>parts</i>; and if in neither of these +anatomies he be commendable, I hope we shall receive a more +favourable sentence. This purifying of wit, this enriching +of memory, enabling of judgment, and enlarging of conceit, which +commonly we call learning under what name soever it come forth, +or to what immediate end soever it be directed; the final end is, +to lead and draw us to as high a perfection as our degenerate +souls, made worse by, their clay lodgings, <a +name="citation25"></a><a href="#footnote25" +class="citation">[25]</a> can be capable of. This, +according to the inclination of man, bred many formed +impressions; for some that thought this felicity principally to +be gotten by knowledge, and no knowledge to be so high or +heavenly as to be acquainted with the stars, gave themselves to +astronomy; others, persuading themselves to be demi-gods, if they +knew the causes of things, became natural and supernatural +philosophers. Some an admirable delight drew to music, and +some the certainty of demonstrations to the mathematics; but all, +one and other, having this scope to know, and by knowledge to +lift up the mind from the dungeon of the body to the enjoying his +own divine essence. But when, by the balance of experience, +it was found that the astronomer, looking to the stars, might +fall in a ditch; that the enquiring philosopher might be blind in +himself; and the mathematician might draw forth a straight line +with a crooked heart; then lo! did proof, the over-ruler of +opinions, make manifest that all these are but serving sciences, +which, as they have a private end in themselves, so yet are they +all directed to the highest end of the mistress knowledge, by the +Greeks called +ἀρχιτεκτονικὴ, +which stands, as I think, in the knowledge of a man’s self; +in the ethic and politic consideration, with the end of well +doing, and not of well knowing only; even as the saddler’s +next end is to make a good saddle, but his farther end to serve a +nobler faculty, which is horsemanship; so the horseman’s to +soldiery; and the soldier not only to have the skill, but to +perform the practice of a soldier. So that the ending end +of all earthly learning being virtuous action, those skills that +most serve to bring forth that have a most just title to be +princes over all the rest; wherein, if we can show it rightly, +the poet is worthy to have it before any other competitors. <a +name="citation26"></a><a href="#footnote26" +class="citation">[26]</a></p> +<p>Among <a name="citation27"></a><a href="#footnote27" +class="citation">[27]</a> whom principally to challenge it, step +forth the moral philosophers; whom, methinks, I see coming toward +me with a sullen gravity (as though they could not abide vice by +daylight), rudely clothed, for to witness outwardly their +contempt of outward things, with books in their hands against +glory, whereto they set their names; sophistically speaking +against subtlety, and angry with any man in whom they see the +foul fault of anger. These men, casting largesses as they +go, of definitions, divisions, and distinctions, with a scornful +interrogative do soberly ask: Whether it be possible to find any +path so ready to lead a man to virtue, as that which teacheth +what virtue is; and teacheth it not only by delivering forth his +very being, his causes and effects; but also by making known his +enemy, vice, which must be destroyed; and his cumbersome servant, +passion, which must be mastered, by showing the generalities that +contain it, and the specialities that are derived from it; +lastly, by plain setting down how it extends itself out of the +limits of a man’s own little world, to the government of +families, and maintaining of public societies?</p> +<p>The historian <a name="citation28"></a><a href="#footnote28" +class="citation">[28]</a> scarcely gives leisure to the moralist +to say so much, but that he (laden with old mouse-eaten records, +authórizing <a name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29" +class="citation">[29]</a> himself, for the most part, upon other +histories, whose greatest authorities are built upon the notable +foundation of hearsay, having much ado to accord differing +writers, and to pick truth out of partiality; better acquainted +with a thousand years ago than with the present age, and yet +better knowing how this world goes than how his own wit runs; +curious for antiquities, and inquisitive of novelties, a wonder +to young folks, and a tyrant in table-talk) denieth, in a great +chafe, that any man for teaching of virtue and virtuous actions, +is comparable to him. I am “Testis temporum, lux +veritatis, vita memoriæ, magistra vitæ, nuncia +vetustatis.” <a name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30" +class="citation">[30]</a> The philosopher, saith he, +teacheth a disputative virtue, but I do an active; his virtue is +excellent in the dangerless academy of Plato, but mine showeth +forth her honourable face in the battles of Marathon, Pharsalia, +Poictiers, and Agincourt: he teacheth virtue by certain abstract +considerations; but I only bid you follow the footing of them +that have gone before you: old-aged experience goeth beyond the +fine-witted philosopher; but I give the experience of many +ages. Lastly, if he make the song book, I put the +learner’s hand to the lute; and if he be the guide, I am +the light. Then would he allege you innumerable examples, +confirming story by stories, how much the wisest senators and +princes have been directed by the credit of history, as Brutus, +Alphonsus of Aragon (and who not? if need be). At length, +the long line of their disputation makes a point in this, that +the one giveth the precept, and the other the example.</p> +<p>Now <a name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31" +class="citation">[31]</a> whom shall we find, since the question +standeth for the highest form in the school of learning, to be +moderator? Truly, as me seemeth, the poet; and if not a +moderator, even the man that ought to carry the title from them +both, and much more from all other serving sciences. +Therefore compare we the poet with the historian, and with the +moral philosopher; and if he go beyond them both, no other human +skill can match him; for as for the Divine, with all reverence, +he is ever to be excepted, not only for having his scope as far +beyond any of these, as eternity exceedeth a moment, but even for +passing each of these in themselves; and for the lawyer, though +“Jus” be the daughter of Justice, the chief of +virtues, yet because he seeks to make men good rather +“formidine pœnæ” than “virtutis +amore,” or, to say righter, doth not endeavour to make men +good, but that their evil hurt not others, having no care, so he +be a good citizen, how bad a man he be: therefore, as our +wickedness maketh him necessary, and necessity maketh him +honourable, so is he not in the deepest truth to stand in rank +with these, who all endeavour to take naughtiness away, and plant +goodness even in the secretest cabinet of our souls. And +these four are all that any way deal in the consideration of +men’s manners, which being the supreme knowledge, they that +best breed it deserve the best commendation.</p> +<p>The philosopher, therefore, and the historian are they which +would win the goal, the one by precept, the other by example; but +both, not having both, do both halt. For the philosopher, +setting down with thorny arguments the bare rule, is so hard of +utterance, and so misty to be conceived, that one that hath no +other guide but him shall wade in him until he be old, before he +shall find sufficient cause to be honest. For his knowledge +standeth so upon the abstract and general, that happy is that man +who may understand him, and more happy that can apply what he +doth understand. On the other side the historian, wanting +the precept, is so tied, not to what should be, but to what is; +to the particular truth of things, and not to the general reason +of things; that his example draweth no necessary consequence, and +therefore a less fruitful doctrine.</p> +<p>Now <a name="citation32"></a><a href="#footnote32" +class="citation">[32]</a> doth the peerless poet perform both; +for whatsoever the philosopher saith should be done, he giveth a +perfect picture of it, by some one by whom he pre-supposeth it +was done, so as he coupleth the general notion with the +particular example. A perfect picture, I say; for he +yieldeth to the powers of the mind an image of that whereof the +philosopher bestoweth but a wordish description, which doth +neither strike, pierce, nor possess the sight of the soul, so +much as that other doth. For as, in outward things, to a +man that had never seen an elephant, or a rhinoceros, who should +tell him most exquisitely all their shape, colour, bigness, and +particular marks? or of a gorgeous palace, an architect, who, +declaring the full beauties, might well make the hearer able to +repeat, as it were, by rote, all he had heard, yet should never +satisfy his inward conceit, with being witness to itself of a +true living knowledge; but the same man, as soon as he might see +those beasts well painted, or that house well in model, should +straightway grow, without need of any description, to a judicial +comprehending of them; so, no doubt, the philosopher, with his +learned definitions, be it of virtue or vices, matters of public +policy or private government, replenisheth the memory with many +infallible grounds of wisdom, which, notwithstanding, lie dark +before the imaginative and judging power, if they be not +illuminated or figured forth by the speaking picture of +poesy.</p> +<p>Tully taketh much pains, and many times not without poetical +help, to make us know the force love of our country hath in +us. Let us but hear old Anchises, speaking in the midst of +Troy’s flames, or see Ulysses, in the fulness of all +Calypso’s delights, bewail his absence from barren and +beggarly Ithaca. Anger, the Stoics said, was a short +madness; let but Sophocles bring you Ajax on a stage, killing or +whipping sheep and oxen, thinking them the army of Greeks, with +their chieftains Agamemnon and Menelaus; and tell me, if you have +not a more familiar insight into anger, than finding in the +schoolmen his genus and difference? See whether wisdom and +temperance in Ulysses and Diomedes, valour in Achilles, +friendship in Nisus and Euryalus, even to an ignorant man, carry +not an apparent shining; and, contrarily, the remorse of +conscience in Œdipus; the soon-repenting pride in +Agamemnon; the self-devouring cruelty in his father Atreus; the +violence of ambition in the two Theban brothers; the sour +sweetness of revenge in Medea; and, to fall lower, the Terentian +Gnatho, and our Chaucer’s Pandar, so expressed, that we now +use their names to signify their trades; and finally, all +virtues, vices, and passions so in their own natural states laid +to the view, that we seem not to hear of them, but clearly to see +through them?</p> +<p>But even in the most excellent determination of goodness, what +philosopher’s counsel can so readily direct a prince as the +feigned Cyrus in Xenophon? Or a virtuous man in all +fortunes, as Æneas in Virgil? Or a whole +commonwealth, as the way of Sir Thomas More’s Utopia? +I say the way, because where Sir Thomas More erred, it was the +fault of the man, and not of the poet; for that way of patterning +a commonwealth was most absolute, though he, perchance, hath not +so absolutely performed it. For the question is, whether +the feigned image of poetry, or the regular instruction of +philosophy, hath the more force in teaching. Wherein, if +the philosophers have more rightly showed themselves +philosophers, than the poets have attained to the high top of +their profession, (as in truth,</p> + +<blockquote><p> “Mediocribus +esse poëtis<br /> +Non Dî, non homines, non concessere columnæ,” +<a name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33" +class="citation">[33]</a>)</p> +</blockquote> +<p>it is, I say again, not the fault of the art, but that by few +men that art can be accomplished. Certainly, even our +Saviour Christ could as well have given the moral common-places +<a name="citation34"></a><a href="#footnote34" +class="citation">[34]</a> of uncharitableness and humbleness, as +the divine narration of Dives and Lazarus; or of disobedience and +mercy, as the heavenly discourse of the lost child and the +gracious father; but that his thorough searching wisdom knew the +estate of Dives burning in hell, and of Lazarus in +Abraham’s bosom, would more constantly, as it were, inhabit +both the memory and judgment. Truly, for myself (me seems), +I see before mine eyes the lost child’s disdainful +prodigality turned to envy a swine’s dinner; which, by the +learned divines, are thought not historical acts, but instructing +parables.</p> +<p>For conclusion, I say the philosopher teacheth, but he +teacheth obscurely, so as the learned only can understand him; +that is to say, he teacheth them that are already taught. +But the poet is the food for the tenderest stomachs; the poet is, +indeed, the right popular philosopher. Whereof +Æsop’s tales give good proof; whose pretty +allegories, stealing under the formal tales of beasts, make many, +more beastly than beasts, begin to hear the sound of virtue from +those dumb speakers.</p> +<p>But now may it be alleged, that if this managing of matters be +so fit for the imagination, then must the historian needs +surpass, who brings you images of true matters, such as, indeed, +were done, and not such as fantastically or falsely may be +suggested to have been done. Truly, Aristotle himself, in +his Discourse of Poesy, plainly determineth this question, +saying, that poetry is +φιλοσοφώτερον +καὶ +πσουδαιότεοον, +that is to say, it is more philosophical and more ingenious than +history. His reason is, because poesy dealeth with +καθολου, that is +to say, with the universal consideration, and the history +καθ +ἔκαστον, the +particular. “Now,” saith he, “the +universal weighs what is fit to be said or done, either in +likelihood or necessity; which the poesy considereth in his +imposed names; and the particular only marks, whether Alcibiades +did, or suffered, this or that:” thus far Aristotle. <a +name="citation35"></a><a href="#footnote35" +class="citation">[35]</a> Which reason of his, as all his, +is most full of reason. For, indeed, if the question were, +whether it were better to have a particular act truly or falsely +set down? there is no doubt which is to be chosen, no more than +whether you had rather have Vespasian’s picture right as he +was, or, at the painter’s pleasure, nothing +resembling? But if the question be, for your own use and +learning, whether it be better to have it set down as it should +be, or as it was? then, certainly, is more doctrinable the +feigned Cyrus in Xenophon, than the true Cyrus in Justin; <a +name="citation36"></a><a href="#footnote36" +class="citation">[36]</a> and the feigned Æneas in Virgil, +than the right Æneas in Dares Phrygius; <a +name="citation37"></a><a href="#footnote37" +class="citation">[37]</a> as to a lady that desired to fashion +her countenance to the best grace, a painter should more benefit +her, to portrait a most sweet face, writing Canidia upon it, than +to paint Canidia as she was, who, Horace sweareth, was full +ill-favoured. If the poet do his part aright, he will show +you in Tantalus, Atreus, and such like, nothing that is not to be +shunned; in Cyrus, Æneas, Ulysses, each thing to be +followed; where the historian, bound to tell things as things +were, cannot be liberal, without he will be poetical, of a +perfect pattern; but, as in Alexander, or Scipio himself, show +doings, some to be liked, some to be misliked; and then how will +you discern what to follow, but by your own discretion, which you +had, without reading Q. Curtius? <a name="citation38"></a><a +href="#footnote38" class="citation">[38]</a> And whereas, a +man may say, though in universal consideration of doctrine, the +poet prevaileth, yet that the history, in his saying such a thing +was done, doth warrant a man more in that he shall follow; the +answer is manifest: that if he stand upon that <i>was</i>, as if +he should argue, because it rained yesterday therefore it should +rain to-day; then, indeed, hath it some advantage to a gross +conceit. But if he know an example only enforms a +conjectured likelihood, and so go by reason, the poet doth so far +exceed him, as he is to frame his example to that which is most +reasonable, be it in warlike, politic, or private matters; where +the historian in his bare <i>was</i> hath many times that which +we call fortune to overrule the best wisdom. Many times he +must tell events whereof he can yield no cause; or if he do, it +must be poetically.</p> +<p>For, that a feigned example bath as much force to teach as a +true example (for as for to move, it is clear, since the feigned +may be tuned to the highest key of passion), let us take one +example wherein an historian and a poet did concur. +Herodotus and Justin do both testify, that Zopyrus, King +Darius’s faithful servant, seeing his master long resisted +by the rebellious Babylonians, feigned himself in extreme +disgrace of his King; for verifying of which he caused his own +nose and ears to be cut off, and so flying to the Babylonians, +was received; and, for his known valour, so far credited, that he +did find means to deliver them over to Darius. Much-like +matters doth Livy record of Tarquinius and his son. +Xenophon excellently feigned such another stratagem, performed by +Abradatus in Cyrus’s behalf. Now would I fain know, +if occasion be presented unto you to serve your prince by such an +honest dissimulation, why do you not as well learn it of +Xenophon’s fiction as of the other’s verity? and, +truly, so much the better, as you shall save your nose by the +bargain; for Abradatus did not counterfeit so far. So, +then, the best of the historians is subject to the poet; for, +whatsoever action or faction, whatsoever counsel, policy, or war +stratagem the historian is bound to recite, that may the poet, if +he list, with his imitation, make his own, beautifying it both +for farther teaching, and more delighting, as it please him: +having all, from Dante’s heaven to his hell, under the +authority of his pen. Which if I be asked, What poets have +done so? as I might well name some, so yet, say I, and say again, +I speak of the art, and not of the artificer.</p> +<p>Now, to that which commonly is attributed to the praise of +history, in respect of the notable learning which is got by +marking the success, as though therein a man should see virtue +exalted, and vice punished: truly, that commendation is peculiar +to poetry, and far off from history; for, indeed, poetry ever +sets virtue so out in her best colours, making fortune her +well-waiting handmaid, that one must needs be enamoured of +her. Well may you see Ulysses in a storm, and in other hard +plights; but they are but exercises of patience and magnanimity, +to make them shine the more in the near following +prosperity. And, on the contrary part, if evil men come to +the stage, they ever go out (as the tragedy writer answered to +one that misliked the show of such persons) so manacled, as they +little animate folks to follow them. But history being +captive to the truth of a foolish world, in many times a terror +from well-doing, and an encouragement to unbridled +wickedness. For see we not valiant Miltiades rot in his +fetters? the just Phocion and the accomplished Socrates put to +death like traitors? the cruel Severus live prosperously? the +excellent Severus miserably murdered? Sylla and Marius +dying in their beds? Pompey and Cicero slain then when they +would have thought exile a happiness? See we not virtuous +Cato driven to kill himself, and rebel Cæsar so advanced, +that his name yet, after sixteen hundred years, lasteth in the +highest honour? And mark but even Cæsar’s own +words of the forenamed Sylla, (who in that only did honestly, to +put down his dishonest tyranny), “literas nescivit:” +as if want of learning caused him to do well. He meant it +not by poetry, which, not content with earthly plagues, deviseth +new punishment in hell for tyrants: nor yet by philosophy, which +teacheth “occidentes esse:” but, no doubt, by skill +in history; for that, indeed, can afford you Cypselus, Periander, +Phalaris, Dionysius, and I know not how many more of the same +kennel, that speed well enough in their abominable injustice of +usurpation.</p> +<p>I conclude, therefore, that he excelleth history, not only in +furnishing the mind with knowledge, but in setting it forward to +that which deserves to be called and accounted good: which +setting forward, and moving to well-doing, indeed, setteth the +laurel crowns upon the poets as victorious; not only of the +historian, but over the philosopher, howsoever, in teaching, it +may be questionable. For suppose it be granted, that which +I suppose, with great reason, may be denied, that the +philosopher, in respect of his methodical proceeding, teach more +perfectly than the poet, yet do I think, that no man is so much +φιλοφιλόσοφος, +as to compare the philosopher in moving with the poet. And +that moving is of a higher degree than teaching, it may by this +appear, that it is well nigh both the cause and effect of +teaching; for who will be taught, if he be not moved with desire +to be taught? And what so much good doth that teaching +bring forth (I speak still of moral doctrine) as that it moveth +one to do that which it doth teach. For, as Aristotle +saith, it is not γνῶσις but +πράξις <a name="citation39"></a><a +href="#footnote39" class="citation">[39]</a> must be the fruit: +and how πράξις can be, without being +moved to practise, it is no hard matter to consider. The +philosopher showeth you the way, he informeth you of the +particularities, as well of the tediousness of the way and of the +pleasant lodging you shall have when your journey is ended, as of +the many by-turnings that may divert you from your way; but this +is to no man, but to him that will read him, and read him with +attentive, studious painfulness; which constant desire whosoever +hath in him, hath already passed half the hardness of the way, +and therefore is beholden to the philosopher but for the other +half. Nay, truly, learned men have learnedly thought, that +where once reason hath so much over-mastered passion, as that the +mind hath a free desire to do well, the inward light each mind +hath in itself is as good as a philosopher’s book: since in +nature we know it is well to do well, and what is well and what +is evil, although not in the words of art which philosophers +bestow upon us; for out of natural conceit the philosophers drew +it; but to be moved to do that which we know, or to be moved with +desire to know, “hoc opus, hic labor est.”</p> +<p>Now, <a name="citation40"></a><a href="#footnote40" +class="citation">[40]</a> therein, of all sciences (I speak still +of human and according to the human conceit), is our poet the +monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so +sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter +into it; nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a +fair vineyard, at the very first give you a cluster of grapes, +that full of that taste you may long to pass farther. He +beginneth not with obscure definitions, which must blur the +margin with interpretations, and load the memory with +doubtfulness, but he cometh to you with words set in delightful +proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the +well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale, forsooth, he +cometh unto you with a tale which holdeth children from play, and +old men from the chimney-corner; <a name="citation41"></a><a +href="#footnote41" class="citation">[41]</a> and, pretending no +more, doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to +virtue; even as the child is often brought to take most wholesome +things, by hiding them in such other as have a pleasant taste; +which, if one should begin to tell them the nature of the aloes +or rhubarbarum they should receive, would sooner take their +physic at their ears than at their mouth; so it is in men (most +of them are childish in the best things, till they be cradled in +their graves); glad they will be to hear the tales of Hercules, +Achilles, Cyrus, Æneas; and hearing them, must needs hear +the right description of wisdom, valour, and justice; which, if +they had been barely (that is to say, philosophically) set out, +they would swear they be brought to school again. That +imitation whereof poetry is, hath the most conveniency to nature +of all other; insomuch that, as Aristotle saith, those things +which in themselves are horrible, as cruel battles, unnatural +monsters, are made, in poetical imitation, delightful. +Truly, I have known men, that even with reading Amadis de Gaule, +which, God knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect poesy, have found +their hearts moved to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, and +especially courage. Who readeth Æneas carrying old +Anchises on his back, that wisheth not it were his fortune to +perform so excellent an act? Whom doth not those words of +Turnus move (the tale of Turnus having planted his image in the +imagination)</p> + +<blockquote><p> “—fugientem +hæc terra videbit?<br /> +Usque adeone mori miserum est?” <a name="citation42"></a><a +href="#footnote42" class="citation">[42]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Where the philosophers (as they think) scorn to delight, so +much they be content little to move, saving wrangling whether +“virtus” be the chief or the only good; whether the +contemplative or the active life do excel; which Plato and +Boetius well knew; and therefore made mistress Philosophy very +often borrow the masking raiment of poesy. For even those +hard-hearted evil men, who think virtue a school-name, and know +no other good but “indulgere genio,” and therefore +despise the austere admonitions of the philosopher, and feel not +the inward reason they stand upon; yet will be content to be +delighted, which is all the good-fellow poet seems to promise; +and so steal to see the form of goodness, which seen, they cannot +but love, ere themselves be aware, as if they took a medicine of +cherries.</p> +<p>Infinite <a name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43" +class="citation">[43]</a> proofs of the strange effects of this +poetical invention might be alleged; only two shall serve, which +are so often remembered, as, I think, all men know them. +The one of Menenius Agrippa, who, when the whole people of Rome +had resolutely divided themselves from the senate, with apparent +show of utter ruin, though he were, for that time, an excellent +orator, came not among them upon trust, either of figurative +speeches, or cunning insinuations, and much less with far-fetched +maxims of philosophy, which, especially if they were Platonic, +they must have learned geometry before they could have conceived; +but, forsooth, he behaveth himself like a homely and familiar +poet. He telleth them a tale, that there was a time when +all the parts of the body made a mutinous conspiracy against the +belly, which they thought devoured the fruits of each +other’s labour; they concluded they would let so +unprofitable a spender starve. In the end, to be short (for +the tale is notorious, and as notorious that it was a tale), with +punishing the belly they plagued themselves. This, applied +by him, wrought such effect in the people as I never read that +only words brought forth; but then so sudden, and so good an +alteration, for upon reasonable conditions a perfect +reconcilement ensued.</p> +<p>The other is of Nathan the prophet, who, when the holy David +had so far forsaken God, as to confirm adultery with murder, when +he was to do the tenderest office of a friend, in laying his own +shame before his eyes, being sent by God to call again so chosen +a servant, how doth he it? but by telling of a man whose beloved +lamb was ungratefully taken from his bosom. The application +most divinely true, but the discourse itself feigned; which made +David (I speak of the second and instrumental cause) as in a +glass see his own filthiness, as that heavenly psalm of mercy +well testifieth.</p> +<p>By these, therefore, examples and reasons, I think it may be +manifest that the poet, with that same hand of delight, doth draw +the mind more effectually than any other art doth. And so a +conclusion not unfitly ensues; that as virtue is the most +excellent resting-place for all worldly learning to make his end +of, so poetry, being the most familiar to teach it, and most +princely to move towards it, in the most excellent work is the +most excellent workman.</p> +<p>But I am content not only to decipher him by his works +(although works in commendation and dispraise must ever hold a +high authority), but more narrowly will examine his parts; so +that (as in a man) though all together may carry a presence full +of majesty and beauty perchance in some one defectious <a +name="citation44"></a><a href="#footnote44" +class="citation">[44]</a> piece we may find blemish.</p> +<p>Now, <a name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45" +class="citation">[45]</a> in his parts, kinds, or species, as you +list to term them, it is to be noted that some poesies have +coupled together two or three kinds; as the tragical and comical, +whereupon is risen the tragi-comical; some, in the manner, have +mingled prose and verse, as Sannazaro and Boetius; some have +mingled matters heroical and pastoral; but that cometh all to one +in this question; for, if severed they be good, the conjunction +cannot be hurtful. Therefore, perchance, forgetting some, +and leaving some as needless to be remembered, it shall not be +amiss, in a word, to cite the special kinds, to see what faults +may be found in the right use of them.</p> +<p>Is it, then, the pastoral poem which is misliked? <a +name="citation46"></a><a href="#footnote46" +class="citation">[46]</a> For, perchance, where the hedge +is lowest, they will soonest leap over. Is the poor pipe +disdained, which sometimes, out of Melibæus’s mouth, +can show the misery of people under hard lords and ravening +soldiers? And again, by Tityrus, what blessedness is +derived to them that lie lowest from the goodness of them that +sit highest? Sometimes under the pretty tales of wolves and +sheep, can include the whole considerations of wrong doing and +patience; sometimes show, that contentions for trifles can get +but a trifling victory; where, perchance, a man may see that even +Alexander and Darius, when they strove who should be cock of this +world’s dunghill, the benefit they got was, that the +after-livers may say,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Hæc memini, et victum frustra +contendere Thyrsim.<br /> +Ex illo Corydon, Corydon est tempore nobis.” <a +name="citation47"></a><a href="#footnote47" +class="citation">[47]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Or is it the lamenting elegiac, <a name="citation48"></a><a +href="#footnote48" class="citation">[48]</a> which, in a kind +heart, would move rather pity than blame; who bewaileth, with the +great philosopher Heraclitus, the weakness of mankind, and the +wretchedness of the world; who, surely, is to be praised, either +for compassionately accompanying just causes of lamentations, or +for rightly pointing out how weak be the passions of +wofulness?</p> +<p>Is it the bitter, but wholesome iambic, <a +name="citation49"></a><a href="#footnote49" +class="citation">[49]</a> who rubs the galled mind, making shame +the trumpet of villany, with bold and open crying out against +naughtiness?</p> +<p>Or the satiric? who,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Omne vafer vitium ridenti tangit +amico;” <a name="citation50"></a><a href="#footnote50" +class="citation">[50]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>who sportingly never leaveth, until he make a man laugh at +folly, and, at length, ashamed to laugh at himself, which he +cannot avoid without avoiding the folly; who, while “circum +præcordia ludit,” giveth us to feel how many +headaches a passionate life bringeth us to; who when all is +done,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Est Ulubris, animus si nos non deficit +æquus.” <a name="citation51"></a><a +href="#footnote51" class="citation">[51]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>No, perchance, it is the comic; <a name="citation52"></a><a +href="#footnote52" class="citation">[52]</a> whom naughty +play-makers and stage-keepers have justly made odious. To +the arguments of abuse I will after answer; only thus much now is +to be said, that the comedy is an imitation of the common errors +of our life, which he representeth in the most ridiculous and +scornful sort that may be; so as it is impossible that any +beholder can be content to be such a one. Now, as in +geometry, the oblique must be known as well as the right, and in +arithmetic, the odd as well as the even; so in the actions of our +life, who seeth not the filthiness of evil, wanteth a great foil +to perceive the beauty of virtue. This doth the comedy +handle so, in our private and domestical matters, as, with +hearing it, we get, as it were, an experience of what is to be +looked for, of a niggardly Demea, of a crafty Davus, of a +flattering Gnatho, of a vain-glorious Thraso; and not only to +know what effects are to be expected, but to know who be such, by +the signifying badge given them by the comedian. And little +reason hath any man to say, that men learn the evil by seeing it +so set out; since, as I said before, there is no man living, but +by the force truth hath in nature, no sooner seeth these men play +their parts, but wisheth them in “pistrinum;” <a +name="citation53"></a><a href="#footnote53" +class="citation">[53]</a> although, perchance, the sack of his +own faults lie so behind his back, that he seeth not himself to +dance in the same measure, whereto yet nothing can more open his +eyes than to see his own actions contemptibly set forth; so that +the right use of comedy will, I think, by nobody be blamed.</p> +<p>And much less of the high and excellent tragedy, <a +name="citation54"></a><a href="#footnote54" +class="citation">[54]</a> that openeth the greatest wounds, and +showeth forth the ulcers that are covered with tissue; that +maketh kings fear to be tyrants, and tyrants to manifest their +tyrannical humours; that with stirring the effects of admiration +and commiseration, teacheth the uncertainty of this world, and +upon how weak foundations gilded roofs are builded; that maketh +us know, “qui sceptra sævus duro imperio regit, timet +timentes, metus in authorem redit.” But how much it +can move, Plutarch yielded a notable testimony of the abominable +tyrant Alexander Pheræus; from whose eyes a tragedy, well +made and represented, drew abundance of tears, who without all +pity had murdered infinite numbers, and some of his own blood; so +as he that was not ashamed to make matters for tragedies, yet +could not resist the sweet violence of a tragedy. And if it +wrought no farther good in him, it was that he, in despite of +himself, withdrew himself from hearkening to that which might +mollify his hardened heart. But it is not the tragedy they +do dislike, for it were too absurd to cast out so excellent a +representation of whatsoever is most worthy to be learned.</p> +<p>Is it the lyric that most displeaseth, who with his tuned lyre +and well-accorded voice, giveth praise, the reward of virtue, to +virtuous acts? who giveth moral precepts and natural problems? +who sometimes raiseth up his voice to the height of the heavens, +in singing the lauds of the immortal God? Certainly, I must +confess mine own barbarousness; I never heard the old song of +Percy and Douglas, that I found not my heart moved more than with +a trumpet; <a name="citation55"></a><a href="#footnote55" +class="citation">[55]</a> and yet it is sung but by some blind +crowder, with no rougher voice than rude style; which being so +evil apparelled in the dust and cobweb of that uncivil age, what +would it work, trimmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar? +In Hungary I have seen it the manner at all feasts, and all other +such-like meetings, to have songs of their ancestors’ +valour, which that right soldier-like nation think one of the +chiefest kindlers of brave courage. The incomparable +Lacedæmonians did not only carry that kind of music ever +with them to the field, but even at home, as such songs were +made, so were they all content to be singers of them; when the +lusty men were to tell what they did, the old men what they had +done, and the young what they would do. And where a man may +say that Pindar many times praiseth highly victories of small +moment, rather matters of sport than virtue; as it may be +answered, it was the fault of the poet, and not of the poetry, +so, indeed, the chief fault was in the time and custom of the +Greeks, who set those toys at so high a price, that Philip of +Macedon reckoned a horse-race won at Olympus among three fearful +felicities. But as the inimitable Pindar often did, so is +that kind most capable, and most fit, to awake the thoughts from +the sleep of idleness, to embrace honourable enterprises.</p> +<p>There rests the heroical, <a name="citation56"></a><a +href="#footnote56" class="citation">[56]</a> whose very name, I +think, should daunt all backbiters. For by what conceit can +a tongue be directed to speak evil of that which draweth with him +no less champions than Achilles, Cyrus, Æneas, Turus, +Tydeus, Rinaldo? who doth not only teach and move to truth, but +teacheth and moveth to the most high and excellent truth: who +maketh magnanimity and justice shine through all misty +fearfulness and foggy desires? who, if the saying of Plato and +Tully be true, that who could see virtue, would be wonderfully +ravished with the love of her beauty; this man setteth her out to +make her more lovely, in her holiday apparel, to the eye of any +that will deign not to disdain until they understand. But +if any thing be already said in the defence of sweet poetry, all +concurreth to the maintaining the heroical, which is not only a +kind, but the best and most accomplished kind, of poetry. +For, as the image of each action stirreth and instructeth the +mind, so the lofty image of such worthies most inflameth the mind +with desire to be worthy, and informs with counsel how to be +worthy. Only let Æneas be worn in the tablet of your +memory, how he governeth himself in the ruin of his country; in +the preserving his old father, and carrying away his religious +ceremonies; in obeying God’s commandments, to leave Dido, +though not only passionate kindness, but even the human +consideration of virtuous gratefulness, would have craved other +of him; how in storms, how in sports, how in war, how in peace, +how a fugitive, how victorious, how besieged, how besieging, how +to strangers, how to allies, how to enemies; how to his own, +lastly, how in his inward self, and how in his outward +government; and I think, in a mind most prejudiced with a +prejudicating humour, he will be found in excellency +fruitful. Yea, as Horace saith, “Melius Chrysippo et +Crantore:” <a name="citation57"></a><a href="#footnote57" +class="citation">[57]</a> but, truly, I imagine it falleth out +with these poet-whippers as with some good women who often are +sick, but in faith they cannot tell where. So the name of +poetry is odious to them, but neither his cause nor effects, +neither the sum that contains him, nor the particularities +descending from him, give any fast handle to their carping +dispraise.</p> +<p>Since, then, <a name="citation58"></a><a href="#footnote58" +class="citation">[58]</a> poetry is of all human learnings the +most ancient, and of most fatherly antiquity, as from whence +other learnings have taken their beginnings; since it is so +universal that no learned nation doth despise it, nor barbarous +nation is without it; since both Roman and Greek gave such divine +names unto it, the one of prophesying, the other of making, and +that indeed that name of making is fit for him, considering, that +where all other arts retain themselves within their subject, and +receive, as it were, their being from it, the poet only, only +bringeth his own stuff, and doth not learn a conceit out of a +matter, but maketh matter for a conceit; since neither his +description nor end containeth any evil, the thing described +cannot be evil; since his effects be so good as to teach +goodness, and delight the learners of it; since therein (namely, +in moral doctrine, the chief of all knowledges) he doth not only +far pass the historian, but, for instructing, is well nigh +comparable to the philosopher; for moving, leaveth him behind +him; since the Holy Scripture (wherein there is no uncleanness) +hath whole parts in it poetical, and that even our Saviour Christ +vouchsafed to use the flowers of it; since all his kinds are not +only in their united forms, but in their severed dissections +fully commendable; I think, and think I think rightly, the laurel +crown appointed for triumphant captains, doth worthily, of all +other learnings, honour the poet’s triumph.</p> +<p>But <a name="citation59"></a><a href="#footnote59" +class="citation">[59]</a> because we have ears as well as +tongues, and that the lightest reasons that may be, will seem to +weigh greatly, if nothing be put in the counterbalance, let us +hear, and, as well as we can, ponder what objections be made +against this art, which may be worthy either of yielding or +answering.</p> +<p>First, truly, I note, not only in these +μισομούσοι, +poet-haters, but in all that kind of people who seek a praise by +dispraising others, that they do prodigally spend a great many +wandering words in quips and scoffs, carping and taunting at each +thing, which, by stirring the spleen, may stay the brain from a +thorough beholding, the worthiness of the subject. Those +kind of objections, as they are full of a very idle uneasiness +(since there is nothing of so sacred a majesty, but that an +itching tongue may rub itself upon it), so deserve they no other +answer, but, instead of laughing at the jest, to laugh at the +jester. We know a playing wit can praise the discretion of +an ass, the comfortableness of being in debt, and the jolly +commodities of being sick of the plague; so, of the contrary +side, if we will turn Ovid’s verse,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Ut lateat virtus proximitate +mali.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“That good lies hid in nearness of the evil,” +Agrippa will be as merry in the showing the Vanity of Science, as +Erasmus was in the commending of Folly; <a +name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60" +class="citation">[60]</a> neither shall any man or matter escape +some touch of these smiling railers. But for Erasmus and +Agrippa, they had another foundation than the superficial part +would promise. Marry, these other pleasant fault-finders, +who will correct the verb before they understand the noun, and +confute others’ knowledge before they confirm their own; I +would have them only remember, that scoffing cometh not of +wisdom; so as the best title in true English they get with their +merriments, is to be called good fools; for so have our grave +forefathers ever termed that humorous kind of jesters.</p> +<p>But that which giveth greatest scope to their scorning humour, +is rhyming and versing. <a name="citation61"></a><a +href="#footnote61" class="citation">[61]</a> It is already +said, and, as I think, truly said, it is not rhyming and versing +that maketh poesy; one may be a poet without versing, and a +versifier without poetry. But yet, presuppose it were +inseparable, as indeed, it seemeth Scaliger judgeth truly, it +were an inseparable commendation; for if “oratio” +next to “ratio,” speech next to reason, be the +greatest gift bestowed upon mortality, that cannot be praiseless +which doth most polish that blessing of speech; which considereth +each word, not only as a man may say by his forcible quality, but +by his best measured quantity; carrying even in themselves a +harmony; without, perchance, number, measure, order, proportion +be in our time grown odious.</p> +<p>But lay aside the just praise it hath, by being the only fit +speech for music—music, I say, the most divine striker of +the senses; thus much is undoubtedly true, that if reading be +foolish without remembering, memory being the only treasure of +knowledge, those words which are fittest for memory, are likewise +most convenient for knowledge. Now, that verse far +exceedeth prose in the knitting up of the memory, the reason is +manifest: the words, besides their delight, which hath a great +affinity to memory, being so set as one cannot be lost, but the +whole work fails: which accusing itself, calleth the remembrance +back to itself, and so most strongly confirmeth it. +Besides, one word so, as it were, begetting another, as, be it in +rhyme or measured verse, by the former a man shall have a near +guess to the follower. Lastly, even they that have taught +the art of memory, have showed nothing so apt for it as a certain +room divided into many places, well and thoroughly known; now +that hath the verse in effect perfectly, every word having his +natural seat, which seat must needs make the word +remembered. But what needs more in a thing so known to all +men? Who is it that ever was a scholar that doth not carry +away some verses of Virgil, Horace, or Cato, which in his youth +he learned, and even to his old age serve him for hourly lessons? +as,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Percontatorem fugito: nam garrulus idem +est.<br /> +Dum sibi quisque placet credula turba sumus.” <a +name="citation62"></a><a href="#footnote62" +class="citation">[62]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>But the fitness it hath for memory is notably proved by all +delivery of arts, wherein, for the most part, from grammar to +logic, mathematics, physic, and the rest, the rules chiefly +necessary to be borne away are compiled in verses. So that +verse being in itself sweet and orderly, and being best for +memory, the only handle of knowledge, it must be in jest that any +man can speak against it.</p> +<p>Now <a name="citation63"></a><a href="#footnote63" +class="citation">[63]</a> then go we to the most important +imputations laid to the poor poets; for aught I can yet learn, +they are these.</p> +<p>First, that there being many other more fruitful knowledges, a +man might better spend his time in them than in this.</p> +<p>Secondly, that it is the mother of lies.</p> +<p>Thirdly, that it is the nurse of abuse, infecting us with many +pestilent desires, with a syren sweetness, drawing the mind to +the serpent’s tail of sinful fancies; and herein, +especially, comedies give the largest field to ear, as Chaucer +saith; how, both in other nations and ours, before poets did +soften us, we were full of courage, given to martial exercises, +the pillars of manlike liberty, and not lulled asleep in shady +idleness with poets’ pastimes.</p> +<p>And lastly and chiefly, they cry out with open mouth, as if +they had overshot Robin Hood, that Plato banished them out of his +commonwealth. Truly this is much, if there be much truth in +it.</p> +<p>First, <a name="citation64"></a><a href="#footnote64" +class="citation">[64]</a> to the first, that a man might better +spend his time, is a reason indeed; but it doth, as they say, but +“petere principium.” <a name="citation65"></a><a +href="#footnote65" class="citation">[65]</a> For if it be, +as I affirm, that no learning is so good as that which teacheth +and moveth to virtue, and that none can both teach and move +thereto so much as poesy, then is the conclusion manifest, that +ink and paper cannot be to a more profitable purpose +employed. And certainly, though a man should grant their +first assumption, it should follow, methinks, very unwillingly, +that good is not good because better is better. But I still +and utterly deny that there is sprung out of earth a more +fruitful knowledge.</p> +<p>To <a name="citation66"></a><a href="#footnote66" +class="citation">[66]</a> the second, therefore, that they should +be the principal liars, I answer paradoxically, but truly, I +think truly, that of all writers under the sun, the poet is the +least liar; and though he would, as a poet, can scarcely be a +liar. The astronomer, with his cousin the geometrician, can +hardly escape when they take upon them to measure the height of +the stars. How often, think you, do the physicians lie, +when they aver things good for sicknesses, which afterwards send +Charon a great number of souls drowned in a potion before they +come to his ferry. And no less of the rest which take upon +them to affirm. Now for the poet, he nothing affirmeth, and +therefore never lieth; for, as I take it, to lie is to affirm +that to be true which is false: so as the other artists, and +especially the historian, affirmeth many things, can, in the +cloudy knowledge of mankind, hardly escape from many lies: but +the poet, as I said before, never affirmeth; the poet never +maketh any circles about your imagination, to conjure you to +believe for true what he writeth: he citeth not authorities of +other histories, but even for his entry calleth the sweet Muses +to inspire into him a good invention; in troth, not labouring to +tell you what is or is not, but what should or should not +be. And, therefore, though he recount things not true, yet +because he telleth them not for true he lieth not; without we +will say that Nathan lied in his speech, before alleged, to +David; which, as a wicked man durst scarce say, so think I none +so simple would say, that Æsop lied in the tales of his +beasts; for who thinketh that Æsop wrote it for actually +true, were well worthy to have his name chronicled among the +beasts he writeth of. What child is there that cometh to a +play, and seeing Thebes written in great letters upon an old +door, doth believe that it is Thebes? If then a man can +arrive to the child’s age, to know that the poet’s +persons and doings are but pictures what should be, and not +stories what have been, they will never give the lie to things +not affirmatively, but allegorically and figuratively written; +and therefore, as in history, looking for truth, they may go away +full fraught with falsehood, so in poesy, looking but for +fiction, they shall use the narration but as an imaginative +ground-plot of a profitable invention.</p> +<p>But hereto is replied, that the poets give names to men they +write of, which argueth a conceit of an actual truth, and so, not +being true, proveth a falsehood. And doth the lawyer lie +then, when, under the names of John of the Stile, and John of the +Nokes, he putteth his case? But that is easily answered, +their naming of men is but to make their picture the more lively, +and not to build any history. Painting men, they cannot +leave men nameless; we see we cannot play at chess but that we +must give names to our chess-men: and yet, methinks, he were a +very partial champion of truth that would say we lied for giving +a piece of wood the reverend title of a bishop. The poet +nameth Cyrus and Æneas no other way than to show what men +of their fames, fortunes, and estates should do.</p> +<p>Their <a name="citation67"></a><a href="#footnote67" +class="citation">[67]</a> third is, how much it abuseth +men’s wit, training it to a wanton sinfulness and lustful +love. For, indeed, that is the principal if not only abuse +I can hear alleged. They say the comedies rather teach, +than reprehend, amorous conceits; they say the lyric is larded +with passionate sonnets; the elegiac weeps the want of his +mistress; and that even to the heroical Cupid hath ambitiously +climbed. Alas! Love, I would thou couldst as well defend +thyself, as thou canst offend others! I would those on whom +thou dost attend, could either put thee away or yield good reason +why they keep thee! But grant love of beauty to be a +beastly fault, although it be very hard, since only man, and no +beast, hath that gift to discern beauty; grant that lovely name +of love to deserve all hateful reproaches, although even some of +my masters the philosophers spent a good deal of their lamp-oil +in setting forth the excellency of it; grant, I say, what they +will have granted, that not only love, but lust, but vanity, but, +if they list, scurrility, possess many leaves of the poets’ +books; yet, think I, when this is granted, they will find their +sentence may, with good manners, put the last words foremost; and +not say that poetry abuseth man’s wit, but that man’s +wit abuseth poetry. For I will not deny but that +man’s wit may make poesy, which should be +φραστικὴ, which some +learned have defined, figuring forth good things, to be +φανταστικὴ, +which doth contrariwise infect the fancy with unworthy objects; +as the painter, who should give to the eye either some excellent +perspective, or some fine picture fit for building or +fortification, or containing in it some notable example, as +Abraham sacrificing his son Isaac, Judith killing Holofernes, +David fighting with Goliath, may leave those, and please an +ill-pleased eye with wanton shows of better-hidden matters.</p> +<p>But, what! shall the abuse of a thing make the right use +odious? Nay, truly, though I yield that poesy may not only +be abused, but that being abused, by the reason of his sweet +charming force, it can do more hurt than any other army of words, +yet shall it be so far from concluding, that the abuse shall give +reproach to the abused, that, contrariwise, it is a good reason, +that whatsoever being abused, doth most harm, being rightly used +(and upon the right use each thing receives his title) doth most +good. Do we not see skill of physic, the best rampire <a +name="citation68"></a><a href="#footnote68" +class="citation">[68]</a> to our often-assaulted bodies, being +abused, teach poison, the most violent destroyer? Doth not +knowledge of law, whose end is to even and right all things, +being abused, grow the crooked fosterer of horrible +injuries? Doth not (to go in the highest) God’s word +abused breed heresy, and His name abused become blasphemy? +Truly, a needle cannot do much hurt, and as truly (with leave of +ladies be it spoken) it cannot do much good. With a sword +thou mayest kill thy father, and with a sword thou mayest defend +thy prince and country; so that, as in their calling poets +fathers of lies, they said nothing, so in this their argument of +abuse, they prove the commendation.</p> +<p>They allege herewith, that before poets began to be in price, +our nation had set their heart’s delight upon action, and +not imagination; rather doing things worthy to be written, than +writing things fit to be done. What that before time was, I +think scarcely Sphynx can tell; since no memory is so ancient +that gives not the precedence to poetry. And certain it is, +that, in our plainest homeliness, yet never was the Albion nation +without poetry. Marry, this argument, though it be levelled +against poetry, yet it is indeed a chain-shot against all +learning or bookishness, as they commonly term it. Of such +mind were certain Goths, of whom it is written, that having in +the spoil of a famous city taken a fair library, one hangman, +belike fit to execute the fruits of their wits, who had murdered +a great number of bodies, would have set fire in it. +“No,” said another, very gravely, “take heed +what you do, for while they are busy about those toys, we shall +with more leisure conquer their countries.” This, +indeed, is the ordinary doctrine of ignorance, and many words +sometimes I have heard spent in it; but because this reason is +generally against all learning as well as poetry, or rather all +learning but poetry; because it were too large a digression to +handle it, or at least too superfluous, since it is manifest that +all government of action is to be gotten by knowledge, and +knowledge best by gathering many knowledges, which is reading; I +only say with Horace, to him that is of that opinion,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Jubeo stultum esse libenter—” +<a name="citation69"></a><a href="#footnote69" +class="citation">[69]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>for as for poetry itself, it is the freest from this, +objection, for poetry is the companion of camps. I dare +undertake, Orlando Furioso, or honest King Arthur, will never +displease a soldier: but the quiddity of “ens” and +“prima materia” will hardly agree with a +corslet. And, therefore, as I said in the beginning, even +Turks and Tartars are delighted with poets. Homer, a Greek, +flourished before Greece flourished; and if to a slight +conjecture a conjecture may be opposed, truly it may seem, that +as by him their learned men took almost their first light of +knowledge, so their active men receive their first notions of +courage. Only Alexander’s example may serve, who by +Plutarch is accounted of such virtue that fortune was not his +guide but his footstool; whose acts speak for him, though +Plutarch did not; indeed, the phoenix of warlike princes. +This Alexander left his schoolmaster, living Aristotle, behind +him, but took dead Homer with him. He put the philosopher +Callisthenes to death, for his seeming philosophical, indeed +mutinous, stubbornness; but the chief thing he was ever heard to +wish for was that Homer had been alive. He well found he +received more bravery of mind by the pattern of Achilles, than by +hearing the definition of fortitude. And, therefore, if +Cato misliked Fulvius for carrying Ennius with him to the field, +it may be answered that if Cato misliked it the noble Fulvius +liked it, or else he had not done it; for it was not the +excellent Cato Uticensis whose authority I would much more have +reverenced, but it was the former, in truth a bitter punisher of +faults, but else a man that had never sacrificed to the +Graces. He misliked, and cried out against, all Greek +learning, and yet, being fourscore years old, began to learn it, +belike fearing that Pluto understood not Latin. Indeed, the +Roman laws allowed no person to be carried to the wars but he +that was in the soldiers’ roll. And, therefore, +though Cato misliked his unmustered person, he misliked not his +work. And if he had, Scipio Nasica (judged by common +consent the best Roman) loved him: both the other Scipio +brothers, who had by their virtues no less surnames than of Asia +and Afric, so loved him that they caused his body to be buried in +their sepulture. So, as Cato’s authority being but +against his person, and that answered with so far greater than +himself, is herein of no validity.</p> +<p>But <a name="citation70"></a><a href="#footnote70" +class="citation">[70]</a> now, indeed, my burthen is great, that +Plato’s name is laid upon me, whom, I must confess, of all +philosophers I have ever esteemed most worthy of reverence; and +with good reason, since of all philosophers he is the most +poetical; yet if he will defile the fountain out of which his +flowing streams have proceeded, let us boldly examine with what +reason he did it.</p> +<p>First, truly, a man might maliciously object that Plato, being +a philosopher, was a natural enemy of poets. For, indeed, +after the philosophers had picked out of the sweet mysteries of +poetry the right discerning of true points of knowledge, they +forthwith, putting it in method, and making a school of art of +that which the poets did only teach by a divine delightfulness, +beginning to spurn at their guides, like ungrateful apprentices, +were not content to set up shop for themselves, but sought by all +means to discredit their masters; which, by the force of delight +being barred them, the less they could overthrow them, the more +they hated them. For, indeed, they found for Homer seven +cities strove who should have him for their citizen, where many +cities banished philosophers as not fit members to live among +them. For only repeating certain of Euripides’ verses +many Athenians had their lives saved of the Syracusans, where the +Athenians themselves thought many of the philosophers unworthy to +live. Certain poets, as Simonides and Pindar, had so +prevailed with Hiero the First, that of a tyrant they made him a +just king; where Plato could do so little with Dionysius that he +himself, of a philosopher, was made a slave. But who should +do thus, I confess, should requite the objections raised against +poets with like cavillations against philosophers; as likewise +one should do that should bid one read Phædrus or Symposium +in Plato, or the discourse of Love in Plutarch, and see whether +any poet do authorise abominable filthiness as they do.</p> +<p>Again, a man might ask, out of what Commonwealth Plato doth +banish them? In sooth, thence where he himself alloweth +community of women. So, as belike this banishment grew not +for effeminate wantonness, since little should poetical sonnets +be hurtful, when a man might have what woman he listed. But +I honour philosophical instructions, and bless the wits which +bred them, so as they be not abused, which is likewise stretched +to poetry. Saint Paul himself sets a watchword upon +philosophy, indeed upon the abuse. So doth Plato upon the +abuse, not upon poetry. Plato found fault that the poets of +his time filled the world with wrong opinions of the gods, making +light tales of that unspotted essence, and therefore would not +have the youth depraved with such opinions. Herein may much +be said; let this suffice: the poets did not induce such +opinions, but did imitate those opinions already induced. +For all the Greek stories can well testify that the very religion +of that time stood upon many and many-fashioned gods; not taught +so by poets, but followed according to their nature of +imitation. Who list may read in Plutarch the discourses of +Isis and Osiris, of the cause why oracles ceased, of the Divine +providence, and see whether the theology of that nation stood not +upon such dreams, which the poets indeed superstitiously +observed; and truly, since they had not the light of Christ, did +much better in it than the philosophers, who, shaking off +superstition, brought in atheism.</p> +<p>Plato, therefore, whose authority I had much rather justly +construe than unjustly resist, meant not in general of poets, in +those words of which Julius Scaliger saith, “qua +authoritate, barbari quidam atque insipidi, abuti velint ad +poetas e republicâ exigendos <a name="citation71"></a><a +href="#footnote71" class="citation">[71]</a>:” but only +meant to drive out those wrong opinions of the Deity, whereof +now, without farther law, Christianity hath taken away all the +hurtful belief, perchance as he thought nourished by then +esteemed poets. And a man need go no farther than to Plato +himself to know his meaning; who, in his dialogue called +“Ion,” <a name="citation72"></a><a href="#footnote72" +class="citation">[72]</a> giveth high, and rightly, divine +commendation unto poetry. So as Plato, banishing the abuse, +not the thing, not banishing it, but giving due honour to it, +shall be our patron, and not our adversary. For, indeed, I +had much rather, since truly I may do it, show their mistaking of +Plato, under whose lion’s skin they would make an ass-like +braying against poesy, than go about to overthrow his authority; +whom, the wiser a man is, the more just cause he shall find to +have in admiration; especially since he attributeth unto poesy +more than myself do, namely, to be a very inspiring of a divine +force, far above man’s wit, as in the fore-named dialogue +is apparent.</p> +<p>Of the other side, who would show the honours have been by the +best sort of judgments granted them, a whole sea of examples +would present themselves; Alexanders, Cæsars, Scipios, all +favourers of poets; Lælius, called the Roman Socrates, +himself a poet; so as part of Heautontimeroumenos, in Terence, +was supposed to be made by him. And even the Greek +Socrates, whom Apollo confirmed to be the only wise man, is said +to have spent part of his old time in putting Æsop’s +Fables into verse; and, therefore, full evil should it become his +scholar Plato to put such words in his master’s mouth +against poets. But what needs more? Aristotle writes the +“Art of Poesy;” and why, if it should not be +written? Plutarch teacheth the use to be gathered of them; +and how, if they should not be read? And who reads +Plutarch’s either history or philosophy, shall find he +trimmeth both their garments with guards <a +name="citation73"></a><a href="#footnote73" +class="citation">[73]</a> of poesy.</p> +<p>But I list not to defend poesy with the help of his underling +historiographer. Let it suffice to have showed it is a fit +soil for praise to dwell upon; and what dispraise may be set upon +it is either easily overcome, or transformed into just +commendation. So that since the excellences of it may be so +easily and so justly confirmed, and the low creeping objections +so soon trodden down <a name="citation74"></a><a +href="#footnote74" class="citation">[74]</a>; it not being an art +of lies, but of true doctrine; not of effeminateness, but of +notable stirring of courage; not of abusing man’s wit, but +of strengthening man’s wit; not banished, but honoured by +Plato; let us rather plant more laurels for to ingarland the +poets’ heads (which honour of being laureate, as besides +them only triumphant captains were, is a sufficient authority to +show the price they ought to be held in) than suffer the +ill-favoured breath of such wrong speakers once to blow upon the +clear springs of poesy.</p> +<p>But <a name="citation75"></a><a href="#footnote75" +class="citation">[75]</a> since I have run so long a career in +this matter, methinks, before I give my pen a full stop, it shall +be but a little more lost time to inquire, why England, the +mother of excellent minds, should be grown so hard a step-mother +to poets, who certainly in wit ought to pass all others, since +all only proceeds from their wit, being, indeed, makers of +themselves, not takers of others. How can I but +exclaim,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Musa, mihi causas memora, quo numine +læso?” <a name="citation76"></a><a href="#footnote76" +class="citation">[76]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Sweet poesy! that hath anciently had kings, emperors, +senators, great captains, such as, besides a thousand others, +David, Adrian, Sophocles, Germanicus, not only to favour poets, +but to be poets; and of our nearer times can present for her +patrons, a Robert, King of Sicily; the great King Francis of +France; King James of Scotland; such cardinals as Bembus and +Bibiena; such famous preachers and teachers as Beza and +Melancthon; so learned philosophers as Fracastorius and Scaliger; +so great orators as Pontanus and Muretus; so piercing wits as +George Buchanan; so grave councillors as, besides many, but +before all, that Hospital <a name="citation77"></a><a +href="#footnote77" class="citation">[77]</a> of France, than +whom, I think, that realm never brought forth a more accomplished +judgment more firmly builded upon virtue; I say these, with +numbers of others, not only to read others’ poesies, but to +poetise for others’ reading: that poesy, thus embraced in +all other places, should only find in our time a hard welcome in +England, I think the very earth laments it, and therefore decks +our soil with fewer laurels than it was accustomed. For +heretofore poets have in England also flourished; and, which is +to be noted, even in those times when the trumpet of Mars did +sound loudest. And now that an over-faint quietness should +seem to strew the house for poets, they are almost in as good +reputation as the mountebanks at Venice. Truly, even that, +as of the one side it giveth great praise to poesy, which, like +Venus (but to better purpose), had rather be troubled in the net +with Mars, than enjoy the homely quiet of Vulcan; so serveth it +for a piece of a reason why they are less grateful to idle +England, which now can scarce endure the pain of a pen. +Upon this necessarily followeth that base men with servile wits +undertake it, who think it enough if they can be rewarded of the +printer; and so as Epaminondas is said, with the honour of his +virtue, to have made an office by his exercising it, which before +was contemptible, to become highly respected; so these men, no +more but setting their names to it, by their own disgracefulness, +disgrace the most graceful poesy. For now, as if all the +Muses were got with child, to bring forth bastard poets, without +any commission, they do post over the banks of Helicon, until +they make their readers more weary than post-horses; while, in +the meantime, they,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Queis meliore luto finxit præcordia +Titan,” <a name="citation78"></a><a href="#footnote78" +class="citation">[78]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>are better content to suppress the outflowings of their wit, +than by publishing them to be accounted knights of the same +order.</p> +<p>But I that, before ever I durst aspire unto the dignity, am +admitted into the company of the paper-blurrers, do find the very +true cause of our wanting estimation is want of desert, taking +upon us to be poets in despite of Pallas. Now, wherein we +want desert, were a thankworthy labour to express. But if I +knew, I should have mended myself; but as I never desired the +title so have I neglected the means to come by it; only, +overmastered by some thoughts, I yielded an inky tribute unto +them. Marry, they that delight in poesy itself, should seek +to know what they do, and how they do, especially look themselves +in an unflattering glass of reason, if they be inclinable unto +it.</p> +<p>For poesy must not be drawn by the ears, it must be gently +led, or rather it must lead; which was partly the cause that made +the ancient learned affirm it was a divine, and no human skill, +since all other knowledges lie ready for any that have strength +of wit; a poet no industry can make, if his own genius be not +carried into it. And therefore is an old proverb, +“Orator fit, poeta nascitur.” <a +name="citation79"></a><a href="#footnote79" +class="citation">[79]</a> Yet confess I always, that as the +fertilest ground must be manured, so must the highest flying wit +have a Dædalus to guide him. That Dædalus, they +say, both in this and in other, hath three wings to bear itself +up into the air of due commendation; that is art, imitation, and +exercise. But these, neither artificial rules, nor +imitative patterns, we much cumber ourselves withal. +Exercise, indeed, we do, but that very forebackwardly; for where +we should exercise to know, we exercise as having known; and so +is our brain delivered of much matter which never was begotten by +knowledge. For there being two principal parts, matter to +be expressed by words, and words to express the matter, in +neither we use art or imitation rightly. Our matter is +“quodlibet,” <a name="citation80"></a><a +href="#footnote80" class="citation">[80]</a> indeed, although +wrongly, performing Ovid’s verse,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Quicquid conabor dicere, versus +erit;” <a name="citation81"></a><a href="#footnote81" +class="citation">[81]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>never marshalling it into any assured rank, that almost the +readers cannot tell where to find themselves.</p> +<p>Chaucer, undoubtedly, did excellently in his Troilus and +Cressida; of whom, truly, I know not whether to marvel more, +either that he in that misty time could see so clearly, or that +we in this clear age go so stumblingly after him. Yet had +he great wants, fit to be forgiven in so reverend +antiquity. I account the Mirror of Magistrates meetly +furnished of beautiful parts. And in the Earl of +Surrey’s Lyrics, many things tasting of a noble birth, and +worthy of a noble mind. The “Shepherds’ +Kalendar” hath much poesy in his eclogues, indeed, worthy +the reading, if I be not deceived. That same framing of his +<a name="citation82"></a><a href="#footnote82" +class="citation">[82]</a> style to an old rustic language, I dare +not allow; since neither Theocritus in Greek, Virgil in Latin, +nor Sannazaro in Italian, did affect it. Besides these, I +do not remember to have seen but few (to speak boldly) printed +that have poetical sinews in them. For proof whereof, let +but most of the verses be put in prose, and then ask the meaning, +and it will be found that one verse did but beget another, +without ordering at the first what should be at the last; which +becomes a confused mass of words, with a tinkling sound of rhyme, +barely accompanied with reason.</p> +<p>Our <a name="citation83"></a><a href="#footnote83" +class="citation">[83]</a> tragedies and comedies, not without +cause, are cried out against, observing rules neither of honest +civility nor skilful poetry. Excepting <i>Gorboduc</i> +(again I say of those that I have seen), which notwithstanding, +as it is full of stately speeches, and well-sounding phrases, +climbing to the height of Seneca his style, and as full of +notable morality, which it does most delightfully teach, and so +obtain the very end of poesy; yet, in truth, it is very +defectuous in the circumstances, which grieves me, because it +might not remain as an exact model of all tragedies. For it +is faulty both in place and time, the two necessary companions of +all corporal actions. For where the stage should always +represent but one place; and the uttermost time presupposed in it +should be, both by Aristotle’s precept, and common reason, +but one day; there is both many days and many places +inartificially imagined.</p> +<p>But if it be so in Gorboduc, how much more in all the rest? +where you shall have Asia of the one side, and Afric of the +other, and so many other under kingdoms, that the player, when he +comes in, must ever begin with telling where he is, <a +name="citation84"></a><a href="#footnote84" +class="citation">[84]</a> or else the tale will not be +conceived. Now shall you have three ladies walk to gather +flowers, and then we must believe the stage to be a garden. +By and by, we hear news of shipwreck in the same place, then we +are to blame if we accept it not for a rock. Upon the back +of that comes out a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then +the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave; while, +in the meantime, two armies fly in, represented with four swords +and bucklers, and then, what hard heart will not receive it for a +pitched field?</p> +<p>Now of time they are much more liberal; for ordinary it is, +that two young princes fall in love; after many traverses she is +got with child; delivered of a fair boy; he is lost, groweth a +man, falleth in love, and is ready to get another child; and all +this in two hours’ space; which, how absurd it is in sense, +even sense may imagine; and art hath taught and all ancient +examples justified, and at this day the ordinary players in Italy +will not err in. Yet will some bring in an example of the +Eunuch in Terence, that containeth matter of two days, yet far +short of twenty years. True it is, and so was it to be +played in two days, and so fitted to the time it set forth. +And though Plautus have in one place done amiss, let us hit it +with him, and not miss with him. But they will say, How +then shall we set forth a story which contains both many places +and many times? And do they not know, that a tragedy is +tied to the laws of poesy, and not of history; not bound to +follow the story, but having liberty either to feign a quite new +matter, or to frame the history to the most tragical +convenience? Again, many things may be told, which cannot +be showed: if they know the difference betwixt reporting and +representing. As for example, I may speak, though I am +here, of Peru, and in speech digress from that to the description +of Calicut; but in action I cannot represent it without +Pacolet’s horse. And so was the manner the ancients +took by some “Nuntius,” <a name="citation85"></a><a +href="#footnote85" class="citation">[85]</a> to recount things +done in former time, or other place.</p> +<p>Lastly, if they will represent an history, they must not, as +Horace saith, begin “ab ovo,” <a +name="citation86"></a><a href="#footnote86" +class="citation">[86]</a> but they must come to the principal +point of that one action which they will represent. By +example this will be best expressed; I have a story of young +Polydorus, delivered, for safety’s sake, with great riches, +by his father Priamus to Polymnestor, King of Thrace, in the +Trojan war time. He, after some years, hearing of the +overthrow of Priamus, for to make the treasure his own, murdereth +the child; the body of the child is taken up; Hecuba, she, the +same day, findeth a sleight to be revenged most cruelly of the +tyrant. Where, now, would one of our tragedy-writers begin, +but with the delivery of the child? Then should he sail +over into Thrace, and so spend I know not how many years, and +travel numbers of places. But where doth Euripides? +Even with the finding of the body; leaving the rest to be told by +the spirit of Polydorus. This needs no farther to be +enlarged; the dullest wit may conceive it.</p> +<p>But, besides these gross absurdities, how all their plays be +neither right tragedies nor right comedies, mingling kings and +clowns, not because the matter so carrieth it, but thrust in the +clown by head and shoulders to play a part in majestical matters, +with neither decency nor discretion; so as neither the admiration +and commiseration, nor the right sportfulness, is by their +mongrel tragi-comedy obtained. I know Apuleius did somewhat +so, but that is a thing recounted with space of time, not +represented in one moment: and I know the ancients have one or +two examples of tragi-comedies as Plautus hath Amphytrio. +But, if we mark them well, we shall find, that they never, or +very daintily, match horn-pipes and funerals. So falleth it +out, that having indeed no right comedy in that comical part of +our tragedy, we have nothing but scurrility, unworthy of any +chaste ears; or some extreme show of doltishness, indeed fit to +lift up a loud laughter, and nothing else; where the whole tract +of a comedy should be full of delight; as the tragedy should be +still maintained in a well-raised admiration.</p> +<p>But our comedians think there is no delight without laughter, +which is very wrong; for though laughter may come with delight, +yet cometh it not of delight, as though delight should be the +cause of laughter; but well may one thing breed both +together. Nay, in themselves, they have, as it were, a kind +of contrariety. For delight we scarcely do, but in things +that have a conveniency to ourselves, or to the general +nature. Laughter almost ever cometh of things most +disproportioned to ourselves and nature: delight hath a joy in it +either permanent or present; laughter hath only a scornful +tickling. For example: we are ravished with delight to see +a fair woman, and yet are far from being moved to laughter; we +laugh at deformed creatures, wherein certainly we cannot delight; +we delight in good chances; we laugh at mischances; we delight to +hear the happiness of our friends and country, at which he were +worthy to be laughed at that would laugh: we shall, contrarily, +sometimes laugh to find a matter quite mistaken, and go down the +hill against the bias, <a name="citation87"></a><a +href="#footnote87" class="citation">[87]</a> in the mouth of some +such men, as for the respect of them, one shall be heartily +sorrow he cannot choose but laugh, and so is rather pained than +delighted with laughter. Yet deny I not, but that they may +go well together; for, as in Alexander’s picture well set +out, we delight without laughter, and in twenty mad antics we +laugh without delight: so in Hercules, painted with his great +beard and furious countenance, in a woman’s attire, +spinning at Omphale’s commandment, it breeds both delight +and laughter; for the representing of so strange a power in love +procures delight, and the scornfulness of the action stirreth +laughter.</p> +<p>But I speak to this purpose, that all the end of the comical +part be not upon such scornful matters as stir laughter only, but +mix with it that delightful teaching which is the end of +poesy. And the great fault, even in that point of laughter, +and forbidden plainly by Aristotle, is, that they stir laughter +in sinful things, which are rather execrable than ridiculous; or +in miserable, which are rather to be pitied than scorned. +For what is it to make folks gape at a wretched beggar, and a +beggarly clown; or against the law of hospitality, to jest at +strangers, because they speak not English so well as we do? what +do we learn, since it is certain,</p> +<blockquote><p>“Nil habet infelix pauperatas durius in +se,<br /> +Quam qnod ridiculos, homines facit.” <a +name="citation88"></a><a href="#footnote88" +class="citation">[88]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>But rather a busy loving courtier, and a heartless threatening +Thraso; a self-wise seeming school-master; a wry-transformed +traveller: these, if we saw walk in stage names, which we play +naturally, therein were delightful laughter, and teaching +delightfulness: as in the other, the tragedies of Buchanan <a +name="citation89"></a><a href="#footnote89" +class="citation">[89]</a> do justly bring forth a divine +admiration.</p> +<p>But I have lavished out too many words of this play matter; I +do it, because, as they are excelling parts of poesy, so is there +none so much used in England, and none can be more pitifully +abused; which, like an unmannerly daughter, showing a bad +education, causeth her mother Poesy’s honesty to be called +in question.</p> +<p>Other <a name="citation90"></a><a href="#footnote90" +class="citation">[90]</a> sorts of poetry, almost, have we none, +but that lyrical kind of songs and sonnets, which, if the Lord +gave us so good minds, how well it might be employed, and with +how heavenly fruits, both private and public, in singing the +praises of the immortal beauty, the immortal goodness of that +God, who giveth us hands to write, and wits to conceive; of which +we might well want words, but never matter; of which we could +turn our eyes to nothing, but we should ever have new budding +occasions.</p> +<p>But, truly, many of such writings as come under the banner of +unresistible love, if I were a mistress, would never persuade me +they were in love; so coldly they apply fiery speeches, as men +that had rather read lover’s writings, and so caught up +certain swelling phrases, which hang together like a man that +once told me, “the wind was at north-west and by +south,” because he would be sure to name winds enough; than +that, in truth, they feel those passions, which easily, as I +think, may be bewrayed by the same forcibleness, or +“energia” (as the Greeks call it), of the +writer. But let this be a sufficient, though short note, +that we miss the right use of the material point of poesy.</p> +<p>Now <a name="citation91"></a><a href="#footnote91" +class="citation">[91]</a> for the outside of it, which is words, +or (as I may term it) diction, it is even well worse; so is that +honey-flowing matron eloquence, apparelled, or rather disguised, +in a courtesan-like painted affectation. One time with so +far-fetched words, that many seem monsters, but most seem +strangers to any poor Englishman: another time with coursing of a +letter, as if they were bound to follow the method of a +dictionary: another time with figures and flowers, extremely +winter-starved.</p> +<p>But I would this fault were only peculiar to versifiers, and +had not as large possession among prose printers: and, which is +to be marvelled, among many scholars, and, which is to be pitied, +among some preachers. Truly, I could wish (if at least I +might be so bold to wish, in a thing beyond the reach of my +capacity) the diligent imitators of Tully and Demosthenes, most +worthy to be imitated, did not so much keep Nizolian paper-books +<a name="citation92"></a><a href="#footnote92" +class="citation">[92]</a> of their figures and phrases, as by +attentive translation, as it were, devour them whole, and make +them wholly theirs. For now they cast sugar and spice upon +every dish that is served at the table: like those Indians, not +content to wear ear-rings at the fit and natural place of the +ears, but they will thrust jewels through their nose and lips, +because they will be sure to be fine.</p> +<p>Tully, when he was to drive out Catiline, as it were with a +thunderbolt of eloquence, often useth the figure of repetition, +as “vivit et vincit, imo in senatum venit, imo in senatum +venit,” &c. <a name="citation93"></a><a +href="#footnote93" class="citation">[93]</a> Indeed, +inflamed with a well-grounded rage, he would have his words, as +it were, double out of his mouth; and so do that artificially +which we see men in choler do naturally. And we, having +noted the grace of those words, hale them in sometimes to a +familiar epistle, when it were too much choler to be +choleric.</p> +<p>How well, store of “similiter cadences” doth sound +with the gravity of the pulpit, I would but invoke +Demosthenes’ soul to tell, who with a rare daintiness useth +them. Truly, they have made me think of the sophister, that +with too much subtlety would prove two eggs three, and though he +may be counted a sophister, had none for his labour. So +these men bringing in such a kind of eloquence, well may they +obtain an opinion of a seeming fineness, but persuade few, which +should be the end of their fineness.</p> +<p>Now for similitudes in certain printed discourses, I think all +herbalists, all stories of beasts, fowls, and fishes are rifled +up, that they may come in multitudes to wait upon any of our +conceits, which certainly is as absurd a surfeit to the ears as +is possible. For the force of a similitude not being to +prove anything to a contrary disputer, but only to explain to a +willing hearer: when that is done, the rest is a most tedious +prattling, rather overswaying the memory from the purpose whereto +they were applied, than any whit informing the judgment, already +either satisfied, or by similitudes not to be satisfied.</p> +<p>For my part, I do not doubt, when Antonius and Crassus, the +great forefathers of Cicero in eloquence; the one (as Cicero +testifieth of them) pretended not to know art, the other not to +set by it, because with a plain sensibleness they might win +credit of popular ears, which credit is the nearest step to +persuasion (which persuasion is the chief mark of oratory); I do +not doubt, I say, but that they used these knacks very sparingly; +which who doth generally use, any man may see, doth dance to his +own music; and so to be noted by the audience, more careful to +speak curiously than truly. Undoubtedly (at least to my +opinion undoubtedly) I have found in divers small-learned +courtiers a more sound style than in some professors of learning; +of which I can guess no other cause, but that the courtier +following that which by practice he findeth fittest to nature, +therein (though he know it not) doth according to art, though not +by art: where the other, using art to show art, and not hide art +(as in these cases he should do), flieth from nature, and indeed +abuseth art.</p> +<p>But what! methinks I deserve to be pounded <a +name="citation94"></a><a href="#footnote94" +class="citation">[94]</a> for straying from poetry to oratory: +but both have such an affinity in the wordish considerations, +that I think this digression will make my meaning receive the +fuller understanding: which is not to take upon me to teach poets +how they should do, but only finding myself sick among the rest, +to allow some one or two spots of the common infection grown +among the most part of writers; that, acknowledging ourselves +somewhat awry, we may bend to the right use both of matter and +manner: whereto our language giveth us great occasion, being, +indeed, capable of any excellent exercising of it. <a +name="citation95"></a><a href="#footnote95" +class="citation">[95]</a> I know some will say, it is a +mingled language: and why not so much the better, taking the best +of both the other? Another will say, it wanteth +grammar. Nay, truly, it hath that praise, that it wants not +grammar; for grammar it might have, but needs it not; being so +easy in itself, and so void of those cumbersome differences of +cases, genders, moods, and tenses; which, I think, was a piece of +the tower of Babylon’s curse, that a man should be put to +school to learn his mother tongue. But for the uttering +sweetly and properly the conceit of the mind, which is the end of +speech, that hath it equally with any other tongue in the world, +and is particularly happy in compositions of two or three words +together, near the Greek, far beyond the Latin; which is one of +the greatest beauties can be in a language.</p> +<p>Now, <a name="citation96"></a><a href="#footnote96" +class="citation">[96]</a> of versifying there are two sorts, the +one ancient, the other modern; the ancient marked the quantity of +each syllable, and according to that framed his verse; the +modern, observing only number, with some regard of the accent, +the chief life of it standeth in that like sounding of the words, +which we call rhyme. Whether of these be the more +excellent, would bear many speeches; the ancient, no doubt more +fit for music, both words and time observing quantity; and more +fit lively to express divers passions, by the low or lofty sound +of the well-weighed syllable. The latter, likewise, with +his rhyme striketh a certain music to the ear; and, in fine, +since it doth delight, though by another way, it obtaineth the +same purpose; there being in either, sweetness, and wanting in +neither, majesty. Truly the English, before any vulgar +language I know, is fit for both sorts; for, for the ancient, the +Italian is so full of vowels, that it must ever be cumbered with +elisions. The Dutch so, of the other side, with consonants, +that they cannot yield the sweet sliding fit for a verse. +The French, in his whole language, hath not one word that hath +his accent in the last syllable, saving two, called +antepenultima; and little more, hath the Spanish, and therefore +very gracelessly may they use dactiles. The English is +subject to none of these defects.</p> +<p>Now for rhyme, though we do not observe quantity, we observe +the accent very precisely, which other languages either cannot +do, or will not do so absolutely. That +“cæsura,” or breathing-place, in the midst of +the verse, neither Italian nor Spanish have, the French and we +never almost fail of. Lastly, even the very rhyme itself +the Italian cannot put in the last syllable, by the French named +the masculine rhyme, but still in the next to the last, which the +French call the female; or the next before that, which the +Italian calls “sdrucciola:” the example of the former +is, “buono,” “suono;” of the sdrucciola +is, “femina,” “semina.” The French, +of the other side, hath both the male, as “bon,” +“son,” and the female, as “plaise,” +“taise;” but the “sdrucciola” he hath +not; where the English hath all three, as “due,” +“true,” “father,” “rather,” +“motion,” “potion;” with much more which +might be said, but that already I find the trifling of this +discourse is much too much enlarged.</p> +<p>So <a name="citation97"></a><a href="#footnote97" +class="citation">[97]</a> that since the ever praiseworthy poesy +is full of virtue, breeding delightfulness, and void of no gift +that ought to be in the noble name of learning; since the blames +laid against it are either false or feeble; since the cause why +it is not esteemed in England is the fault of poet-apes, not +poets; since, lastly, our tongue is most fit to honour poesy, and +to be honoured by poesy; I conjure you all that have had the evil +luck to read this ink-wasting toy of mine, even in the name of +the Nine Muses, no more to scorn the sacred mysteries of poesy; +no more to laugh at the name of poets, as though they were next +inheritors to fools; no more to jest at the reverend title of +“a rhymer;” but to believe, with Aristotle, that they +were the ancient treasurers of the Grecian’s divinity; to +believe, with Bembus, that they were the first bringers in of all +civility; to believe, with Scaliger, that no philosopher’s +precepts can sooner make you an honest man, than the reading of +Virgil; to believe, with Clauserus, the translator of Cornutus, +that it pleased the heavenly deity by Hesiod and Homer, under the +veil of fables, to give us all knowledge, logic, rhetoric, +philosophy natural and moral, and “quid non?” to +believe, with me, that there are many mysteries contained in +poetry, which of purpose were written darkly, lest by profane +wits it should be abused; to believe, with Landin, that they are +so beloved of the gods that whatsoever they write proceeds of a +divine fury. Lastly, to believe themselves, when they tell +you they will make you immortal by their verses.</p> +<p>Thus doing, your names shall flourish in the printers’ +shops: thus doing, you shall be of kin to many a poetical +preface: thus doing, you shall be most fair, most rich, most +wise, most all: you shall dwell upon superlatives: thus doing, +though you be “Libertino patre natus,” you shall +suddenly grow “Herculea proles,”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Si quid mea Carmina possunt:”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>thus doing, your soul shall be placed with Dante’s +Beatrix, or Virgil’s Anchisis.</p> +<p>But if (fie of such a but!) you be born so near the +dull-making cataract of Nilus, that you cannot hear the +planet-like music of poetry; if you have so earth-creeping a +mind, that it cannot lift itself up to look to the sky of poetry, +or rather, by a certain rustical disdain, will become such a +Mome, as to be a Momus of poetry; then, though I will not wish +unto you the ass’s ears of Midas, nor to be driven by a +poet’s verses, as Bubonax was, to hang himself; nor to be +rhymed to death, as is said to be done in Ireland; yet thus much +curse I must send you in the behalf of all poets; that while you +live, you live in love, and never get favour, for lacking skill +of a sonnet; and when you die, your memory die from the earth for +want of an epitaph.</p> +<h2>POEMS.</h2> +<h3>TWO PASTORALS,</h3> +<p><i>Made by Sir Philip Sidney</i>, <i>upon his meeting with his +two worthy friends and fellow poets</i>, <i>Sir Edward Dyer and +M. Fulke Greville</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Join</span> mates in mirth +to me,<br /> + Grant pleasure to our meeting;<br /> +Let Pan, our good god, see<br /> + How grateful is our greeting.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ye hymns and singing skill<br /> + Of god Apollo’s giving,<br /> +Be pressed our reeds to fill<br /> + With sound of music living.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sweet Orpheus’ harp, whose sound<br /> + The stedfast mountains moved,<br /> +Let there thy skill abound,<br /> + To join sweet friends beloved.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">My two and I be met,<br /> + A happy blessed trinity,<br /> +As three more jointly set<br /> + In firmest band of unity.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Welcome my two to me,<br /> + The number best beloved,<br /> +Within my heart you be<br /> + In friendship unremoved.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give leave your flocks to range,<br /> + Let us the while be playing;<br /> +Within the elmy grange,<br /> + Your flocks will not be straying.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Cause all the mirth you can,<br /> + Since I am now come hither,<br /> +Who never joy, but when<br /> + I am with you together.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like lovers do their love,<br /> + So joy I in you seeing:<br /> +Let nothing me remove<br /> + From always with you being.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">And as the turtle dove<br /> + To mate with whom he liveth,<br /> +Such comfort fervent love<br /> + Of you to my heart giveth.<br /> + Join hearts and hands, so let it +be,<br /> + Make but one mind in bodies +three.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now joinéd be our hands,<br /> + Let them be ne’er asunder,<br /> +But link’d in binding bands<br /> + By metamorphosed wonder.<br /> + So should our severed bodies +three<br /> + As one for ever joinéd +be.</p> +<h3>DISPRAISE OF A COURTLY LIFE.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Walking</span> in bright +Phœbus’ blaze,<br /> +Where with heat oppressed I was,<br /> +I got to a shady wood,<br /> +Where green leaves did newly bud;<br /> +And of grass was plenty dwelling,<br /> +Decked with pied flowers sweetly smelling.</p> +<p class="poetry">In this wood a man I met,<br /> +On lamenting wholly set;<br /> +Ruing change of wonted state,<br /> +Whence he was transforméd late,<br /> +Once to shepherds’ God retaining,<br /> +Now in servile court remaining.</p> +<p class="poetry">There he wand’ring malecontent,<br /> +Up and down perpléxed went,<br /> +Daring not to tell to me,<br /> +Spake unto a senseless tree,<br /> +One among the rest electing,<br /> +These same words, or this affecting:</p> +<p class="poetry">“My old mates I grieve to see<br /> +Void of me in field to be,<br /> +Where we once our lovely sheep<br /> +Lovingly like friends did keep;<br /> +Oft each other’s friendship proving,<br /> +Never striving, but in loving.</p> +<p class="poetry">“But may love abiding be<br /> +In poor shepherds’ base degree?<br /> +It belongs to such alone<br /> +To whom art of love is known:<br /> +Seely shepherds are not witting<br /> +What in art of love is fitting.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Nay, what need the art to those<br /> +To whom we our love disclose?<br /> +It is to be uséd then,<br /> +When we do but flatter men:<br /> +Friendship true, in heart assured,<br /> +Is by Nature’s gifts procured.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Therefore shepherds, wanting skill,<br +/> +Can Love’s duties best fulfil;<br /> +Since they know not how to feign,<br /> +Nor with love to cloak disdain,<br /> +Like the wiser sort, whose learning<br /> +Hides their inward will of harming.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Well was I, while under shade<br /> +Oaten reeds me music made,<br /> +Striving with my mates in song;<br /> +Mixing mirth our songs among.<br /> +Greater was the shepherd’s treasure<br /> +Than this false, fine, courtly pleasure.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Where how many creatures be,<br /> +So many puffed in mind I see;<br /> +Like to Juno’s birds of pride,<br /> +Scarce each other can abide:<br /> +Friends like to black swans appearing,<br /> +Sooner these than those in hearing.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Therefore, Pan, if thou may’st +be<br /> +Made to listen unto me,<br /> +Grant, I say, if seely man<br /> +May make treaty to god Pan,<br /> +That I, without thy denying,<br /> +May be still to thee relying.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Only for my two loves’ sake,<br /> +In whose love I pleasure take;<br /> +Only two do me delight<br /> +With their ever-pleasing sight;<br /> +Of all men to thee retaining,<br /> +Grant me with those two remaining.</p> +<p class="poetry">“So shall I to thee always<br /> +With my reeds sound mighty praise:<br /> +And first lamb that shall befall,<br /> +Yearly deck thine altar shall,<br /> +If it please thee to be reflected,<br /> +And I from thee not rejected.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So I left him in that place,<br /> +Taking pity on his case;<br /> +Learning this among the rest,<br /> +That the mean estate is best;<br /> +Better filléd with contenting,<br /> +Void of wishing and repenting.</p> +<h3>DIRGE.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Ring</span> out your bells, +let mourning shows be spread,<br /> +For Love is dead:<br /> + All Love is dead, infected<br /> +With plague of deep disdain:<br /> + Worth, as nought worth, rejected,<br /> +And faith fair scorn doth gain.<br /> + From so ungrateful fancy;<br /> + From such a female frenzy;<br /> + From them that use men thus,<br /> + Good Lord, deliver us.</p> +<p class="poetry">Weep, neighbours, weep, do you not hear it +said<br /> +That Love is dead:<br /> + His death-bed, peacock’s folly:<br /> +His winding-sheet is shame;<br /> + His will, false-seeming holy,<br /> +His sole executor, blame.<br /> + From so ungrateful fancy;<br /> + From such a female frenzy;<br /> + From them that use men thus,<br /> + Good Lord, deliver us.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let dirge be sung, and trentals rightly +read,<br /> +For Love is dead:<br /> + Sir Wrong his tomb ordaineth<br /> +My mistress’ marble heart;<br /> + Which epitaph containeth,<br /> +“Her eyes were once his dart.”<br /> + From so ungrateful fancy;<br /> + From such a female frenzy;<br /> + From them that use men thus,<br /> + Good Lord, deliver us.</p> +<p class="poetry">Alas! I lie: rage hath this error bred;<br /> +Love is not dead,<br /> + Love is not dead, but sleepeth<br /> +In her unmatchéd mind:<br /> + Where she his counsel keepeth<br /> +Till due deserts she find.<br /> + Therefore from so vile fancy,<br /> + To call such wit a frenzy:<br /> + Who Love can temper thus,<br /> + Good Lord, deliver us.</p> +<h3>STANZAS TO LOVE.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Ah</span>, poor Love, why +dost thou live,<br /> + Thus to see thy service lost;<br /> +If she will no comfort give,<br /> + Make an end, yield up the ghost!</p> +<p class="poetry">That she may, at length, approve<br /> + That she hardly long believed,<br /> +That the heart will die for love<br /> + That is not in time relieved.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, that ever I was born<br /> + Service so to be refused;<br /> +Faithful love to be forborn!<br /> + Never love was so abused.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, sweet Love, be still awhile;<br /> + She that hurt thee, Love, may heal thee;<br /> +Sweet! I see within her smile<br /> + More than reason can reveal thee.</p> +<p class="poetry">For, though she be rich and fair,<br /> + Yet she is both wise and kind,<br /> +And, therefore, do thou not despair<br /> + But thy faith may fancy find.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet, although she be a queen<br /> + That may such a snake despise,<br /> +Yet, with silence all unseen,<br /> + Run, and hide thee in her eyes:</p> +<p class="poetry">Where if she will let thee die,<br /> + Yet at latest gasp of breath,<br /> +Say that in a lady’s eye<br /> + Love both took his life and death.</p> +<h3>A REMEDY FOR LOVE.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Philoclea</span> and Pamela +sweet,<br /> +By chance, in one great house did meet;<br /> +And meeting, did so join in heart,<br /> +That th’ one from th’ other could not part:<br /> +And who indeed (not made of stones)<br /> +Would separate such lovely ones?<br /> +The one is beautiful, and fair<br /> +As orient pearls and rubies are;<br /> +And sweet as, after gentle showers,<br /> +The breath is of some thousand flowers:<br /> +For due proportion, such an air<br /> +Circles the other, and so fair,<br /> +That it her brownness beautifies,<br /> +And doth enchant the wisest eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Have you not seen, on some +great day,<br /> +Two goodly horses, white and bay,<br /> +Which were so beauteous in their pride,<br /> +You knew not which to choose or ride?<br /> +Such are these two; you scarce can tell,<br /> +Which is the daintier bonny belle;<br /> +And they are such, as, by my troth,<br /> +I had been sick with love of both,<br /> +And might have sadly said, ‘Good-night<br /> +Discretion and good fortune quite;’<br /> +But that young Cupid, my old master,<br /> +Presented me a sovereign plaster:<br /> +Mopsa! ev’n Mopsa! (precious pet)<br /> +Whose lips of marble, teeth of jet,<br /> +Are spells and charms of strong defence,<br /> +To conjure down concupiscence.</p> +<p class="poetry"> How oft have I been reft of +sense,<br /> +By gazing on their excellence,<br /> +But meeting Mopsa in my way,<br /> +And looking on her face of clay,<br /> +Been healed, and cured, and made as sound,<br /> +As though I ne’er had had a wound?<br /> +And when in tables of my heart,<br /> +Love wrought such things as bred my smart,<br /> +Mopsa would come, with face of clout,<br /> +And in an instant wipe them out.<br /> +And when their faces made me sick,<br /> +Mopsa would come, with face of brick,<br /> +A little heated in the fire,<br /> +And break the neck of my desire.<br /> +Now from their face I turn mine eyes,<br /> +But (cruel panthers!) they surprise<br /> +Me with their breath, that incense sweet,<br /> +Which only for the gods is meet,<br /> +And jointly from them doth respire,<br /> +Like both the Indies set on fire:</p> +<p class="poetry"> Which so o’ercomes +man’s ravished sense,<br /> +That souls, to follow it, fly hence.<br /> +No such-like smell you if you range<br /> +To th’ Stocks, or Cornhill’s square Exchange;<br /> +There stood I still as any stock,<br /> +Till Mopsa, with her puddle dock,<br /> +Her compound or electuary,<br /> +Made of old ling and young canary,<br /> +Bloat-herring, cheese, and voided physic,<br /> +Being somewhat troubled with a phthisic,<br /> +Did cough, and fetch a sigh so deep,<br /> +As did her very bottom sweep:<br /> +Whereby to all she did impart,<br /> +How love lay rankling at her heart:<br /> +Which, when I smelt, desire was slain,<br /> +And they breathed forth perfumes in vain.<br /> +Their angel voice surprised me now;<br /> +But Mopsa, her Too-whit, Too-whoo,<br /> +Descending through her oboe nose,<br /> +Did that distemper soon compose.</p> +<p class="poetry"> And, therefore, O thou +precious owl,<br /> +The wise Minerva’s only fowl;<br /> +What, at thy shrine, shall I devise<br /> +To offer up a sacrifice?<br /> +Hang Æsculapius, and Apollo,<br /> +And Ovid, with his precious shallow.<br /> +Mopsa is love’s best medicine,<br /> +True water to a lover’s wine.<br /> +Nay, she’s the yellow antidote,<br /> +Both bred and born to cut Love’s throat:<br /> +Be but my second, and stand by,<br /> +Mopsa, and I’ll them both defy;<br /> +And all else of those gallant races,<br /> +Who wear infection in their faces;<br /> +For thy face (that Medusa’s shield!)<br /> +Will bring me safe out of the field.</p> +<h3>VERSES.</h3> +<p><i>To the tune of the Spanish song</i>, “<i>Si tu +señora no ducles de mi</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry">O <span class="smcap">fair</span>! O sweet! +when I do look on thee,<br /> + In whom all joys so well agree,<br /> +Heart and soul do sing in me.<br /> + This you hear is not my tongue,<br /> +Which once said what I conceived;<br /> +For it was of use bereaved,<br /> + With a cruel answer stung.<br /> +No! though tongue to roof be cleaved,<br /> + Fearing lest he chastised be,<br /> + Heart and soul do sing in me.</p> +<p class="poetry">O fair! O sweet! when I do look on thee,<br /> + In whom all joys so well agree,<br /> + Just accord all music makes;<br /> +In thee just accord excelleth,<br /> +Where each part in such peace dwelleth,<br /> + One of other beauty takes.<br /> +Since then truth to all minds telleth,<br /> + That in thee lives harmony,<br /> + Heart and soul do sing in me.</p> +<p class="poetry">O fair! O sweet! when I do look on thee,<br /> + In whom all joys so well agree,<br /> + They that heaven have known do say,<br /> +That whoso that grace obtaineth,<br /> +To see what fair sight there reigneth,<br /> + Forcéd are to sing alway:<br /> +So then since that heaven remaineth<br /> + In thy face, I plainly see,<br /> + Heart and soul do sing in me.</p> +<p class="poetry">O fair! O sweet! when I do look on thee,<br /> + In whom all joys so well agree,<br /> + Sweet, think not I am at ease,<br /> +For because my chief part singeth;<br /> +This song from death’s sorrow springeth:<br /> + As to swan in last disease:<br /> +For no dumbness, nor death, bringeth<br /> + Stay to true love’s melody:<br /> + Heart and soul do sing in me.</p> +<h3>TRANSLATION.</h3> +<p><i>From Horace</i>, <i>Book II. Ode X.</i>, <i>beginning</i> +“<i>Rectius vives</i>, <i>Licini</i>,” +<i>&c.</i></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">You</span> better sure +shall live, not evermore<br /> + Trying high seas; nor, while sea’s rage you +flee,<br /> +Pressing too much upon ill-harboured shore.</p> +<p class="poetry">The golden mean who loves, lives safely free<br +/> + From filth of foreworn house, and quiet lives,<br /> +Released from court, where envy needs must be.</p> +<p class="poetry">The wind most oft the hugest pine tree +grieves:<br /> + The stately towers come down with greater fall:<br +/> +The highest hills the bolt of thunder cleaves.</p> +<p class="poetry">Evil haps do fill with hope, good haps +appall<br /> + With fear of change, the courage well prepared:<br +/> +Foul winters, as they come, away they shall.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though present times, and past, with evils be +snared,<br /> + They shall not last: with cithern silent Muse,<br /> +Apollo wakes, and bow hath sometime spared.</p> +<p class="poetry">In hard estate, with stout shows, valour +use,<br /> + The same man still, in whom wisdom prevails;<br /> +In too full wind draw in thy swelling sails.</p> +<h3>A SONNET BY SIR EDWARD DYER.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Prometheus</span>, when +first from heaven high<br /> + He brought down fire, till then on earth not +seen;<br /> +Fond of delight, a satyr, standing by,<br /> + Gave it a kiss, as it like sweet had been.</p> +<p class="poetry">Feeling forthwith the other burning power,<br +/> + Wood with the smart, with shouts and shrieking +shrill,<br /> +He sought his ease in river, field, and bower;<br /> + But, for the time, his grief went with him +still.</p> +<p class="poetry">So silly I, with that unwonted sight,<br /> + In human shape an angel from above,<br /> +Feeding mine eyes, th’ impression there did light;<br /> + That since I run and rest as pleaseth love:<br /> +The difference is, the satyr’s lips, my heart,<br /> +He for a while, I evermore, have smart.</p> +<h3>SIR PHILIP SIDNEY’S SONNET IN REPLY.</h3> +<p class="poetry"> A <span +class="smcap">satyr</span> once did run away for dread,<br /> +With sound of horn which he himself did blow:<br /> + Fearing and feared, thus from himself he fled,<br /> +Deeming strange evil in that he did not know.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Such causeless fears when +coward minds do take,<br /> +It makes them fly that which they fain would have;<br /> + As this poor beast, who did his rest forsake,<br /> +Thinking not why, but how, himself to save.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Ev’n thus might I, for +doubts which I conceive<br /> +Of mine own words, my own good hap betray;<br /> + And thus might I, for fear of may be, leave<br /> +The sweet pursuit of my desiréd prey.<br /> + Better like I thy satyr, dearest Dyer,<br /> + Who burnt his lips to kiss fair shining fire.</p> +<h3>MUST LOVE LAMENT?</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">My</span> mistress lowers, +and saith I do not love:<br /> + I do protest, and seek with service due,<br /> +In humble mind, a constant faith to prove;<br /> +But for all this, I cannot her remove<br /> + From deep vain thought that I may not be true.</p> +<p class="poetry"> If oaths might serve, +ev’n by the Stygian lake,<br /> +Which poets say the gods themselves do fear,<br /> + I never did my vowéd word forsake:<br /> + For why should I, whom free choice slave doth +make,<br /> +Else-what in face, than in my fancy bear?</p> +<p class="poetry"> My Muse, therefore, for only +thou canst tell,<br /> +Tell me the cause of this my causeless woe?<br /> + Tell, how ill thought disgraced my doing well?<br /> + Tell, how my joys and hopes thus foully fell<br /> +To so low ebb that wonted were to flow?</p> +<p class="poetry"> O this it is, the knotted +straw is found;<br /> +In tender hearts, small things engender hate:<br /> + A horse’s worth laid waste the Trojan +ground;<br /> + A three-foot stool in Greece made trumpets sound;<br +/> +An ass’s shade e’er now hath bred debate.</p> +<p class="poetry"> If Greeks themselves were +moved with so small cause,<br /> +To twist those broils, which hardly would untwine:<br /> + Should ladies fair be tied to such hard laws,<br /> + As in their moods to take a ling’ring +pause?<br /> +I would it not, their metal is too fine.</p> +<p class="poetry"> My hand doth not bear witness +with my heart,<br /> +She saith, because I make no woeful lays,<br /> + To paint my living death and endless smart:<br /> + And so, for one that felt god Cupid’s dart,<br +/> +She thinks I lead and live too merry days.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Are poets then the only +lovers true,<br /> +Whose hearts are set on measuring a verse?<br /> + Who think themselves well blest, if they renew<br /> + Some good old dump that Chaucer’s mistress +knew;<br /> +And use but you for matters to rehearse.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Then, good Apollo, do away +thy bow:<br /> +Take harp and sing in this our versing time,<br /> + And in my brain some sacred humour flow,<br /> + That all the earth my woes, sighs, tears may +know;<br /> +And see you not that I fall low to rhyme.</p> +<p class="poetry"> As for my mirth, how could I +but be glad,<br /> +Whilst that methought I justly made my boast<br /> + That only I the only mistress had?<br /> + But now, if e’er my face with joy be clad,<br +/> +Think Hannibal did laugh when Carthage lost.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Sweet lady, as for those +whose sullen cheer,<br /> +Compared to me, made me in lightness sound;<br /> + Who, stoic-like, in cloudy hue appear;<br /> + Who silence force to make their words more dear;<br +/> +Whose eyes seem chaste, because they look on ground:</p> +<p class="poetry"> Believe them not, for physic +true doth find,<br /> + Choler adust is joyed in woman-kind.</p> +<h3>A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO SHEPHERDS.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Uttered in a Pastoral Show at +Wilton</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. Dick, since we cannot dance, +come, let a cheerful voice<br /> +Show that we do not grudge at all when others do rejoice.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Ah Will, though I grudge +not, I count it feeble glee,<br /> +With sight made dim with daily tears another’s sport to +see.<br /> +Whoever lambkins saw, yet lambkins love to play,<br /> +To play when that their lovéd dams are stolen or gone +astray?<br /> +If this in them be true, as true in men think I,<br /> +A lustless song forsooth thinks he that hath more lust to +cry.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. A time there is for all, my +mother often says,<br /> +When she, with skirts tucked very high, with girls at football +plays<br /> +When thou hast mind to weep, seek out some smoky room:<br /> +Now let those lightsome sights we see thy darkness overcome.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. What joy the joyful sun +gives unto blearéd eyes;<br /> +That comfort in these sports you like, my mind his comfort +tries.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What? Is thy bagpipe +broke, or are thy lambs miswent;<br /> +Thy wallet or thy tar-box lost; or thy new raiment-rent?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. I would it were but thus, +for thus it were too well.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. Thou see’st my ears do +itch at it: good Dick thy sorrow tell.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Hear then, and learn to +sigh: a mistress I do serve,<br /> +Whose wages make me beg the more, who feeds me till I starve;<br +/> +Whose livery is such, as most I freeze apparelled most,<br /> +And looks so near unto my cure, that I must needs be lost.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What? These are +riddles sure: art thou then bound to her?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Bound as I neither power +have, nor would have power, to stir.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. Who bound thee?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Love, my lord.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What witnesses thereto?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Faith in myself, and Worth +in her, which no proof can undo.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What seal?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. My heart deep graven.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. Who made the band so +fast?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Wonder that, by two so black +eyes the glitt’ring stars be past.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What keepeth safe thy +band?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Remembrance is the chest<br +/> +Lock’d fast with knowing that she is of worldly things the +best.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. Thou late of wages +plain’dst: what wages may’sh thou have?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Her heavenly looks, which +more and more do give me cause to crave.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. If wages make you want, what +food is that she gives?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Tear’s drink, +sorrow’s meat, wherewith not I, but in me my death +lives.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What living get you +then?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Disdain; but just +disdain;<br /> +So have I cause myself to plain, but no cause to complain.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. What care takes she for +thee?</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Her care is to prevent<br /> +My freedom, with show of her beams, with virtue, my content.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. God shield us from such +dames! If so our dames be sped,<br /> +The shepherds will grow lean I trow, their sheep will be +ill-fed.<br /> +But Dick, my counsel mark: run from the place of woo:<br /> +The arrow being shot from far doth give the smaller blow.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Good Will, I cannot take thy +good advice; before<br /> +That foxes leave to steal, they find they die therefore.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Will</i>. Then, Dick, let us go hence +lest we great folks annoy:<br /> +For nothing can more tedious be than plaint in time of joy.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Dick</i>. Oh hence! O cruel +word! which even dogs do hate:<br /> +But hence, even hence, I must needs go; such is my dogged +fate.</p> +<h3>SONG.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>To the tune of</i> +“<i>Wilhelmus van Nassau</i>,” <i>&c.</i></p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Who</span> hath his fancy +pleased,<br /> + With fruits of happy sight,<br /> +Let here his eyes be raised<br /> + On Nature’s sweetest light;<br /> +A light which doth dissever,<br /> + And yet unite the eyes;<br /> +A light which, dying, never<br /> + Is cause the looker dies.</p> +<p class="poetry"> She never dies, but +lasteth<br /> +In life of lover’s heart;<br /> + He ever dies that wasteth<br /> +In love his chiefest part.<br /> + Thus is her life still guarded,<br /> +In never dying faith;<br /> + Thus is his death rewarded,<br /> +Since she lives in his death.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Look then and die, the +pleasure<br /> +Doth answer well the pain;<br /> + Small loss of mortal treasure,<br /> +Who may immortal gain.<br /> + Immortal be her graces,<br /> +Immortal is her mind;<br /> + They, fit for heavenly places,<br /> +This heaven in it doth bind.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But eyes these beauties see +not,<br /> +Nor sense that grace descries;<br /> + Yet eyes deprivéd be not<br /> +From sight of her fair eyes:<br /> + Which, as of inward glory<br /> +They are the outward seal,<br /> + So may they live still sorry,<br /> +Which die not in that weal.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But who hath fancies +pleaséd,<br /> +With fruits of happy sight,<br /> + Let here his eyes be raiséd<br /> +On Nature’s sweetest light.</p> +<h3>THE SMOKES OF MELANCHOLY.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center" class="poetry">I.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Who</span> hath e’er +felt the change of love,<br /> +And known those pangs that losers prove,<br /> +May paint my face without seeing me,<br /> +And write the state how my fancies be,<br /> +The loathsome buds grown on Sorrow’s tree.</p> +<p class="poetry">But who by hearsay speaks, and hath not fully +felt<br /> +What kind of fires they be in which those spirits melt,<br /> +Shall guess, and fail, what doth displease,<br /> +Feeling my pulse, miss my disease.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">II.</p> +<p class="poetry">O no! O no! trial only shows<br /> +The bitter juice of forsaken woes;<br /> +Where former bliss, present evils do stain;<br /> +Nay, former bliss adds to present pain,<br /> +While remembrance doth both states contain.<br /> +Come, learners, then to me, the model of mishap,<br /> +Ingulphéd in despair, slid down from Fortune’s +lap;<br /> +And, as you like my double lot,<br /> +Tread in my steps, or follow not.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">III.</p> +<p class="poetry">For me, alas! I am full resolved<br /> +Those bands, alas! shall not be dissolved;<br /> +Nor break my word, though reward come late;<br /> +Nor fail my faith in my failing fate;<br /> +Nor change in change, though change change my state:</p> +<p class="poetry">But always own myself, with eagle-eyed Truth, +to fly<br /> +Up to the sun, although the sun my wings do fry;<br /> +For if those flames burn my desire,<br /> +Yet shall I die in Phoenix’ fire.</p> +<h3>ODE.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">When</span>, to my deadly +pleasure,<br /> +When to my lively torment,<br /> +Lady, mine eyes remainéd<br /> +Joinéd, alas! to your beams.</p> +<p class="poetry">With violence of heavenly<br /> +Beauty, tied to virtue;<br /> +Reason abashed retiréd;<br /> +Gladly my senses yielded.</p> +<p class="poetry">Gladly my senses yielding,<br /> +Thus to betray my heart’s fort,<br /> +Left me devoid of all life.</p> +<p class="poetry">They to the beamy suns went,<br /> +Where, by the death of all deaths,<br /> +Find to what harm they hastened.</p> +<p class="poetry">Like to the silly Sylvan,<br /> +Burned by the light he best liked,<br /> +When with a fire he first met.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet, yet, a life to their death,<br /> +Lady you have reservéd;<br /> +Lady the life of all love.</p> +<p class="poetry">For though my sense be from me,<br /> +And I be dead, who want sense,<br /> +Yet do we both live in you.</p> +<p class="poetry">Turnéd anew, by your means,<br /> +Unto the flower that aye turns,<br /> +As you, alas! my sun bends.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus do I fall to rise thus;<br /> +Thus do I die to live thus;<br /> +Changed to a change, I change not.</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus may I not be from you;<br /> +Thus be my senses on you;<br /> +Thus what I think is of you;<br /> +Thus what I seek is in you;<br /> +All what I am, it is you.</p> +<h2>VERSES.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>To the tune of a Neapolitan +song</i>, <i>which beginneth</i>, “<i>No</i>, <i>no</i>, +<i>no</i>, <i>no</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">No</span>, no, no, no, I +cannot hate my foe,<br /> + Although with cruel fire,<br /> + First thrown on my desire,<br /> +She sacks my rendered sprite;<br /> + For so fair a flame embraces<br /> + All the places,<br /> +Where that heat of all heats springeth,<br /> +That it bringeth<br /> + To my dying heart some pleasure,<br /> + Since his treasure<br /> +Burneth bright in fairest light. No, no, no, no.</p> +<p class="poetry">No, no, no, no, I cannot hate my foe,<br /> + Although with cruel fire,<br /> + First thrown on my desire,<br /> +She sacks my rendered sprite;<br /> + Since our lives be not immortal,<br /> + But to mortal<br /> +Fetters tied, do wait the hour<br /> +Of death’s power,<br /> + They have no cause to be sorry<br /> + Who with glory<br /> +End the way, where all men stay. No, no, no, no.</p> +<p class="poetry">No, no, no, no, I cannot hate my foe,<br /> + Although with cruel fire,<br /> + First thrown on my desire,<br /> +She sacks my rendered sprite;<br /> + No man doubts, whom beauty killeth,<br /> + Fair death feeleth,<br /> +And in whom fair death proceedeth,<br /> +Glory breedeth:<br /> + So that I, in her beams dying,<br /> + Glory trying,<br /> +Though in pain, cannot complain. No, no, no, no.</p> +<h3>SONG.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>To the tune of a Neapolitan +Villanel</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">All</span> my sense thy +sweetness gained;<br /> +Thy fair hair my heart enchained;<br /> +My poor reason thy words moved,<br /> +So that thee, like heaven, I loved.</p> +<p class="poetry">Fa, la, la, leridan, dan, dan, dan, deridan:<br +/> + Dan, dan, dan, deridan, deridan, dei:<br /> +While to my mind the outside stood,<br /> +For messenger of inward good.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor thy sweetness sour is deemed;<br /> +Thy hair not worth a hair esteemed;<br /> +Reason hath thy words removed,<br /> +Finding that but words they proved.</p> +<p class="poetry">Fa, la, la, leridan, dan, dan, dan, deridan,<br +/> + Dan, dan, dan, deridan, deridan, dei:<br /> +For no fair sign can credit win,<br /> +If that the substance fail within.</p> +<p class="poetry">No more in thy sweetness glory,<br /> +For thy knitting hair be sorry;<br /> +Use thy words but to bewail thee<br /> +That no more thy beams avail thee;<br /> + Dan, dan,<br /> + Dan, dan,<br /> +Lay not thy colours more to view,<br /> +Without the picture be found true.</p> +<p class="poetry">Woe to me, alas, she weepeth!<br /> +Fool! in me what folly creepeth?<br /> +Was I to blaspheme enraged,<br /> +Where my soul I have engaged?<br /> + Dan, dan,<br /> + Dan, dan,<br /> +And wretched I must yield to this;<br /> +The fault I blame her chasteness is.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sweetness! sweetly pardon folly;<br /> +Tie me, hair, your captive wholly:<br /> +Words! O words of heavenly knowledge!<br /> +Know, my words their faults acknowledge;<br /> + Dan, dan,<br /> + Dan, dan,<br /> +And all my life I will confess,<br /> +The less I love, I live the less.</p> +<h3>TRANSLATION.</h3> +<p><i>From</i> “<i>La Diana de Monte-Mayor</i>,” +<i>in Spanish</i>: <i>where Sireno</i>, <i>a shepherd</i>, +<i>whose mistress Diana had utterly forsaken him</i>, <i>pulling +out a little of her hair</i>, <i>wrapped about with green +silk</i>, <i>to the hair he thus bewailed himself</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What</span> changes here, O +hair,<br /> + I see, since I saw you!<br /> +How ill fits you this green to wear,<br /> + For hope, the colour due!<br /> +Indeed, I well did hope,<br /> + Though hope were mixed with fear,<br /> +No other shepherd should have scope<br /> + Once to approach this hair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah hair! how many days<br /> + My Dian made me show,<br /> +With thousand pretty childish plays,<br /> + If I ware you or no:<br /> +Alas, how oft with tears,—<br /> + O tears of guileful breast!—<br /> +She seeméd full of jealous fears,<br /> + Whereat I did but jest.</p> +<p class="poetry">Tell me, O hair of gold,<br /> + If I then faulty be,<br /> +That trust those killing eyes I would,<br /> + Since they did warrant me?<br /> +Have you not seen her mood,<br /> + What streams of tears she spent,<br /> +’Till that I sware my faith so stood,<br /> + As her words had it bent?</p> +<p class="poetry">Who hath such beauty seen<br /> + In one that changeth so?<br /> +Or where one’s love so constant been,<br /> + Who ever saw such woe?<br /> +Ah, hair! are you not grieved<br /> + To come from whence you be,<br /> +Seeing how once you saw I lived,<br /> + To see me as you see?</p> +<p class="poetry">On sandy bank of late,<br /> + I saw this woman sit;<br /> +Where, “Sooner die than change my state,”<br /> + She with her finger writ:<br /> +Thus my belief was staid,<br /> + Behold Love’s mighty hand<br /> +On things were by a woman said,<br /> + And written in the sand.</p> +<p><i>The same Sireno in</i> “<i>Monte-Mayor</i>,” +<i>holding his mistress’s glass before her</i>, <i>and +looking upon her while she viewed herself</i>, <i>thus +sang</i>:—</p> +<p class="poetry">Of this high grace, with bliss conjoined,<br /> + No farther debt on me is laid,<br /> +Since that in self-same metal coined,<br /> + Sweet lady, you remain well paid;</p> +<p class="poetry">For if my place give me great pleasure,<br /> +Having before my nature’s treasure,<br /> + In face and eyes unmatchéd being,<br /> + You have the same in my hands, seeing<br /> +What in your face mine eyes do measure.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor think the match unevenly made,<br /> + That of those beams in you do tarry,<br /> +The glass to you but gives a shade,<br /> + To me mine eyes the true shape carry;<br /> + For such a thought most highly +prized,<br /> + Which ever hath Love’s yoke +despised,<br /> + Better than one captived perceiveth,<br /> + Though he the lively form receiveth,<br /> + The other sees it but +disguised.</p> +<h3>SONNETS.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> dart, the beams, +the sting, so strong I prove,<br /> + Which my chief part doth pass through, parch, and +tie,<br /> +That of the stroke, the heat, and knot of love,<br /> + Wounded, inflamed, knit to the death, I die.</p> +<p class="poetry">Hardened and cold, far from affection’s +snare<br /> + Was once my mind, my temper, and my life;<br /> +While I that sight, desire, and vow forbare,<br /> + Which to avoid, quench, lose, nought boasted +strife.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yet will not I grief, ashes, thraldom change<br +/> + For others’ ease, their fruit, or free +estate;<br /> +So brave a shot, dear fire, and beauty strange,<br /> + Bid me pierce, burn, and bind, long time and +late,<br /> +And in my wounds, my flames, and bonds, I find<br /> +A salve, fresh air, and bright contented mind.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Virtue</span>, beauty, and +speech, did strike, wound, charm,<br /> + My heart, eyes, ears, with wonder, love, delight,<br +/> +First, second, last, did bind, enforce, and arm,<br /> + His works, shows, suits, with wit, grace, and +vows’ might,</p> +<p class="poetry">Thus honour, liking, trust, much, far, and +deep,<br /> + Held, pierced, possessed, my judgment, sense, and +will,<br /> +Till wrongs, contempt, deceit, did grow, steal, creep,<br /> + Bands, favour, faith, to break, defile, and +kill,</p> +<p class="poetry">Then grief, unkindness, proof, took, kindled, +taught,<br /> + Well-grounded, noble, due, spite, rage, disdain:<br +/> +But ah, alas! in vain my mind, sight, thought,<br /> + Doth him, his face, his words, leave, shun, +refrain.<br /> +For nothing, time, nor place, can loose, quench, ease<br /> +Mine own embracéd, sought, knot, fire, disease.</p> +<h3>WOOING-STUFF.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Faint</span> amorist, what, +dost thou think<br /> +To taste Love’s honey, and not drink<br /> +One dram of gall? or to devour<br /> +A world of sweet, and taste no sour?<br /> +Dost thou ever think to enter<br /> +Th’ Elysian fields, that dar’st not venture<br /> +In Charon’s barge? a lover’s mind<br /> +Must use to sail with every wind.<br /> +He that loves and fears to try,<br /> +Learns his mistress to deny.<br /> +Doth she chide thee? ’tis to show it,<br /> +That thy coldness makes her do it:<br /> +Is she silent? is she mute?<br /> +Silence fully grants thy suit:<br /> +Doth she pout, and leave the room?<br /> +Then she goes to bid thee come:<br /> +Is she sick? why then be sure,<br /> +She invites thee to the cure:<br /> +Doth she cross thy suit with “No?”<br /> +Tush, she loves to hear thee woo:<br /> +Doth she call the faith of man<br /> +In question? Nay, she loves thee than;<br /> +And if e’er she makes a blot,<br /> +She’s lost if that thou hit’st her not.<br /> +He that after ten denials,<br /> +Dares attempt no farther trials,<br /> +Hath no warrant to acquire<br /> +The dainties of his chaste desire.</p> +<h3>SONNETS</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Since</span> shunning pain, +I ease can never find;<br /> + Since bashful dread seeks where he knows me +harmed;<br /> + Since will is won, and stoppéd ears are +charmed;<br /> +Since force doth faint, and sight doth make me blind;<br /> +Since loosing long, the faster still I bind;<br /> + Since naked sense can conquer reason armed;<br /> + Since heart, in chilling fear, with ice is +warmed;<br /> +In fine, since strife of thought but mars the mind,<br /> + I yield, O Love, unto thy loathed yoke,<br /> +Yet craving law of arms, whose rule doth teach,<br /> + That, hardly used, who ever prison broke,<br /> +In justice quit, of honour made no breach:<br /> + Whereas, if I a grateful guardian have,<br /> + Thou art my lord, and I thy vowéd slave.</p> +<p class="poetry">When Love puffed up with rage of high +disdain,<br /> + Resolved to make me pattern of his might,<br /> + Like foe, whose wits inclined to deadly spite,<br /> +Would often kill, to breed more feeling pain;<br /> +He would not, armed with beauty, only reign<br /> + On those affects which easily yield to sight;<br /> + But virtue sets so high, that reason’s +light,<br /> +For all his strife can only bondage gain:<br /> + So that I live to pay a mortal fee,<br /> +Dead palsy-sick of all my chiefest parts,<br /> + Like those whom dreams make ugly monsters see,<br /> +And can cry help with naught but groans and starts:<br /> + Longing to have, having no wit to wish,<br /> + To starving minds such is god Cupid’s +dish.</p> +<h3>SONG.</h3> +<p><i>To the tune of</i> “<i>Non credo gia che piu infelice +amante</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> nightingale, as +soon as April bringeth<br /> + Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,<br /> +While late bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,<br /> + Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making;<br +/> + And mournfully bewailing,<br /> +Her throat in tunes expresseth<br /> +What grief her breast oppresseth,<br /> + For Tereus’ force on her chaste will +prevailing.<br /> +O Philomela fair! O take some gladness,<br /> +That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:<br /> +Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;<br /> +Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">II.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Alas! she hath no other cause +of anguish,<br /> +But Tereus’ love, on her by strong hand wroken,<br /> + Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish,<br +/> +Full womanlike, complains her will was broken,<br /> + But I, who daily craving,<br /> +Cannot have to content me,<br /> +Have more cause to lament me,<br /> + Since wanting is more woe than too much having.<br +/> +O Philomela fair! O take some gladness,<br /> +That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:<br /> +Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;<br /> +Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.</p> +<h3>SONG.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>To the tune of</i> +“<i>Basciami vita mia</i>.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Sleep</span>, baby mine, +Desire’s nurse, Beauty, singeth;<br /> + Thy cries, O baby, set mine head on aching:<br /> + The babe cries, “’Way, thy love doth +keep me waking.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Lully, lully, my babe, Hope cradle bringeth<br +/> + Unto my children alway good rest taking:<br /> + The babe cries, “Way, thy love doth keep me +waking.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Since, baby mine, from me thy watching +springeth,<br /> + Sleep then a little, pap Content is making;<br /> + The babe cries, “Nay, for that abide I +waking.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">I.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> scourge of life, +and death’s extreme disgrace;<br /> + The smoke of hell, the monster calléd +Pain:<br /> +Long shamed to be accursed in every place,<br /> + By them who of his rude resort complain;<br /> +Like crafty wretch, by time and travel taught,<br /> + His ugly evil in others’ good to hide;<br /> +Late harbours in her face, whom Nature wrought<br /> + As treasure-house where her best gifts do bide;<br +/> +And so by privilege of sacred seat,<br /> + A seat where beauty shines and virtue reigns,<br /> +He hopes for some small praise, since she hath great,<br /> + Within her beams wrapping his cruel stains.<br /> +Ah, saucy Pain, let not thy terror last,<br /> +More loving eyes she draws, more hate thou hast.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">II.</p> +<p class="poetry">Woe! woe to me, on me return the smart:<br /> + My burning tongue hath bred my mistress pain?<br /> +For oft in pain, to pain my painful heart,<br /> + With her due praise did of my state complain.<br /> +I praised her eyes, whom never chance doth move;<br /> + Her breath, which makes a sour answer sweet;<br /> +Her milken breasts, the nurse of child-like love;<br /> + Her legs, O legs! her aye well-stepping feet:<br /> +Pain heard her praise, and full of inward fire,<br /> + (First sealing up my heart as prey of his)<br /> +He flies to her, and, boldened with desire,<br /> + Her face, this age’s praise, the thief doth +kiss.<br /> +O Pain! I now recant the praise I gave,<br /> +And swear she is not worthy thee to have.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">III.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Thou pain, the only guest of +loathed Constraint;<br /> +The child of Curse, man’s weakness foster-child;<br /> + Brother to Woe, and father of Complaint:<br /> +Thou Pain, thou hated Pain, from heaven exiled,<br /> + How hold’st thou her whose eyes constraint +doth fear,<br /> +Whom cursed do bless; whose weakness virtues arm;<br /> + Who others’ woes and plaints can chastely +bear:<br /> +In whose sweet heaven angels of high thoughts swarm?<br /> + What courage strange hath caught thy caitiff +heart?<br /> +Fear’st not a face that oft whole hearts devours?<br /> + Or art thou from above bid play this part,<br /> +And so no help ’gainst envy of those powers?<br /> + If thus, alas, yet while those parts have woe;<br /> + So stay her tongue, that she no more say, +“O.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">IV.</p> +<p class="poetry"> And have I heard her say, +“O cruel pain!”<br /> +And doth she know what mould her beauty bears?<br /> + Mourns she in truth, and thinks that others +feign?<br /> +Fears she to feel, and feels not others’ fears?<br /> +Or doth she think all pain the mind forbears?<br /> + That heavy earth, not fiery spirits, may plain?<br +/> +That eyes weep worse than heart in bloody tears?<br /> + That sense feels more than what doth sense +contain?<br /> +No, no, she is too wise, she knows her face<br /> + Hath not such pain as it makes others have:<br /> +She knows the sickness of that perfect place<br /> + Hath yet such health, as it my life can save.<br /> +But this, she thinks, our pain high cause excuseth,<br /> +Where her, who should rule pain, false pain abuseth.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Like</span> as the dove, +which seeléd up doth fly,<br /> + Is neither freed, nor yet to service bound;<br /> +But hopes to gain some help by mounting high,<br /> + Till want of force do force her fall to ground:<br +/> +Right so my mind, caught by his guiding eye,<br /> + And thence cast off where his sweet hurt he +found,<br /> +Hath neither leave to live, nor doom to die;<br /> + Nor held in evil, nor suffered to be sound.<br /> +But with his wings of fancies up he goes,<br /> + To high conceits, whose fruits are oft but small;<br +/> +Till wounded, blind, and wearied spirit, lose<br /> + Both force to fly, and knowledge where to fall:<br +/> +O happy dove, if she no bondage tried!<br /> +More happy I, might I in bondage bide!</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In</span> wonted walks, +since wonted fancies change,<br /> + Some cause there is, which of strange cause doth +rise:<br /> +For in each thing whereto mine eye doth range,<br /> + Part of my pain, me-seems, engravéd lies.<br +/> +The rocks, which were of constant mind the mark,<br /> + In climbing steep, now hard refusal show;<br /> +The shading woods seem now my sun to dark,<br /> + And stately hills disdain to look so low.<br /> +The restful caves now restless visions give;<br /> + In dales I see each way a hard ascent:<br /> +Like late-mown meads, late cut from joy I live;<br /> + Alas, sweet brooks do in my tears augment:<br /> +Rocks, woods, hills, caves, dales, meads, brooks, answer me;<br +/> +Infected minds infect each thing they see.<br /> +<span class="smcap">If</span> I could think how these my thoughts +to leave,<br /> + Or thinking still, my thoughts might have good +end;<br /> +If rebel sense would reason’s law receive;<br /> + Or reason foiled, would not in vain contend:<br /> +Then might I think what thoughts were best to think:<br /> +Then might I wisely swim, or gladly sink.</p> +<p class="poetry">If either you would change your cruel heart,<br +/> + Or, cruel still, time did your beauties stain:<br /> +If from my soul this love would once depart,<br /> + Or for my love some love I might obtain;<br /> +Then might I hope a change, or ease of mind,<br /> +By your good help, or in myself, to find.</p> +<p class="poetry">But since my thoughts in thinking still are +spent.<br /> + With reason’s strife, by senses overthrown;<br +/> +You fairer still, and still more cruel bent,<br /> + I loving still a love that loveth none:<br /> +I yield and strive, I kiss and curse the pain,<br /> +Thought, reason, sense, time, You, and I, maintain.</p> +<h3>A FAREWELL.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Oft</span> have I mused, +but now at length I find<br /> + Why those that die, men say, they do depart:<br /> +Depart: a word so gentle to my mind,<br /> + Weakly did seem to paint Death’s ugly +dart.</p> +<p class="poetry">But now the stars, with their strange course, +do bind<br /> + Me one to leave, with whom I leave my heart;<br /> +I hear a cry of spirits faint and blind,<br /> + That parting thus, my chiefest part I part.</p> +<p class="poetry">Part of my life, the loathéd part to +me,<br /> + Lives to impart my weary clay some breath;<br /> +But that good part wherein all comforts be,<br /> + Now dead, doth show departure is a death:</p> +<p class="poetry">Yea, worse than death, death parts both woe and +joy,<br /> +From joy I part, still living in annoy.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Finding</span> those beams, +which I must ever love,<br /> + To mar my mind, and with my hurt to please,<br /> +I deemed it best, some absence for to prove,<br /> + If farther place might further me to ease.</p> +<p class="poetry">My eyes thence drawn, where livéd all +their light,<br /> + Blinded forthwith in dark despair did lie,<br /> +Like to the mole, with want of guiding sight,<br /> + Deep plunged in earth, deprivéd of the +sky.</p> +<p class="poetry">In absence blind, and wearied with that woe,<br +/> + To greater woes, by presence, I return;<br /> +Even as the fly, which to the flame doth go,<br /> + Pleased with the light, that his small corse doth +burn:</p> +<p class="poetry">Fair choice I have, either to live or die<br /> +A blinded mole, or else a burnéd fly.</p> +<h3>THE SEVEN WONDERS OF ENGLAND.</h3> +<p style="text-align: center">I.</p> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Near</span> Wilton sweet, +huge heaps of stones are found,<br /> + But so confused, that neither any eye<br /> + Can count them just, nor Reason reason try,<br /> +What force brought them to so unlikely ground.</p> +<p class="poetry">To stranger weights my mind’s waste soil +is bound,<br /> + Of passion-hills, reaching to Reason’s sky,<br +/> +From Fancy’s earth, passing all number’s bound,<br /> + Passing all guess, whence into me should fly<br /> +So mazed a mass; or, if in me it grows,<br /> +A simple soul should breed so mixéd woes.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">II.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The Bruertons have a lake, +which, when the sun<br /> +Approaching warms, not else, dead logs up sends<br /> +From hideous depth; which tribute, when it ends,<br /> + Sore sign it is the lord’s last thread is +spun.</p> +<p class="poetry"> My lake is Sense, whose still +streams never run<br /> +But when my sun her shining twins there bends;<br /> + Then from his depth with force in her begun,<br /> +Long drownéd hopes to watery eyes it lends;<br /> + But when that fails my dead hopes up to take,<br /> + Their master is fair warned his will to make.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">III.</p> +<p class="poetry"> We have a fish, by strangers +much admired,<br /> +Which caught, to cruel search yields his chief part:<br /> +With gall cut out, closed up again by art,<br /> + Yet lives until his life be new required.</p> +<p class="poetry"> A stranger fish myself, not +yet expired,<br /> +Tho’, rapt with Beauty’s hook, I did impart<br /> + Myself unto th’ anatomy desired,<br /> +Instead of gall, leaving to her my heart:<br /> + Yet live with thoughts closed up, ’till that +she will,<br /> + By conquest’s right, instead of searching, +kill.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">IV.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Peak hath a cave, whose +narrow entries find<br /> +Large rooms within where drops distil amain:<br /> +Till knit with cold, though there unknown remain,<br /> + Deck that poor place with alabaster lined.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Mine eyes the strait, the +roomy cave, my mind;<br /> +Whose cloudy thoughts let fall an inward rain<br /> + Of sorrow’s drops, till colder reason bind<br +/> +Their running fall into a constant vein<br /> + Of truth, far more than alabaster pure,<br /> + Which, though despised, yet still doth truth +endure.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">V.</p> +<p class="poetry"> A field there is, where, if a +stake oe prest<br /> +Deep in the earth, what hath in earth receipt,<br /> +Is changed to stone in hardness, cold, and weight,<br /> + The wood above doth soon consuming rest.</p> +<p class="poetry"> The earth her ears; the stake +is my request;<br /> +Of which, how much may pierce to that sweet seat,<br /> + To honour turned, doth dwell in honour’s +nest,<br /> +Keeping that form, though void of wonted heat;<br /> + But all the rest, which fear durst not apply,<br /> + Failing themselves, with withered conscience +die.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">VI.</p> +<p class="poetry"> Of ships by shipwreck cast on +Albion’s coast,<br /> +Which rotting on the rocks, their death to die:<br /> +From wooden bones and blood of pitch doth fly<br /> + A bird, which gets more life than ship had lost.</p> +<p class="poetry"> My ship, Desire, with wind of +Lust long tost,<br /> +Brake on fair cliffs of constant Chastity;<br /> + Where plagued for rash attempt, gives up his +ghost;<br /> +So deep in seas of virtue, beauties lie:<br /> + But of this death flies up the purest love,<br /> + Which seeming less, yet nobler life doth move.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">VII.</p> +<p class="poetry"> These wonders England breeds; +the last remains—<br /> +A lady, in despite of Nature, chaste,<br /> +On whom all love, in whom no love is placed,<br /> + Where Fairness yields to Wisdom’s shortest +reins.</p> +<p class="poetry"> A humble pride, a scorn that +favour stains;<br /> +A woman’s mould, but like an angel graced;<br /> +An angel’s mind, but in a woman cased;<br /> + A heaven on earth, or earth that heaven contains:<br +/> +Now thus this wonder to myself I frame;<br /> +She is the cause that all the rest I am.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Thou</span> blind +man’s mark; thou fool’s self-chosen snare,<br /> + Fond fancy’s scum, and dregs of scattered +thought:<br /> +Band of all evils; cradle of causeless care;<br /> + Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought:</p> +<p class="poetry"> Desire! Desire! I have +too dearly bought,<br /> +With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware;<br /> + Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought<br +/> +Who shouldst my mind to higher things prepare;</p> +<p class="poetry"> But yet in vain thou hast my +ruin sought;<br /> +In vain thou mad’st me to vain things aspire;<br /> +In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire:<br /> + For Virtue hath this better lesson taught,<br /> +Within myself to seek my only hire,<br /> +Desiring nought but how to kill Desire.</p> +<h3>FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN.</h3> +<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Leave</span> me, O love! +which reachest but to dust;<br /> + And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things:<br /> +Grow rich in that which never taketh rust;<br /> + Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.</p> +<p class="poetry">Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might<br +/> + To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be,<br /> +Which breaks the clouds, and opens forth the light<br /> + That doth both shine, and give us sight to see.</p> +<p class="poetry">O take fast hold! let that light be thy +guide,<br /> + In this small course which birth draws out to +death,<br /> +And think how evil becometh him to slide,<br /> + Who seeketh heaven, and comes from heavenly +breath.<br /> + Then farewell, world, thy +uttermost I see,<br /> + Eternal Love, maintain thy life in +me.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">SPLENDIDIS LONGUM VALEDICO +NUGIS</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES.</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> <i>Edward Wotton</i>, elder +brother of Sir Henry Wotton. He was knighted by Elizabeth +in 1592, and made Comptroller of her Household. Observe the +playfulness in Sidney’s opening and close of a treatise +written throughout in plain, manly English without Euphuism, and +strictly reasoned.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> Here the introduction ends, and +the argument begins with its § 1. <i>Poetry the first +Light-giver</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> A fable from the +“Hetamythium” of Laurentius Abstemius, Professor of +Belles Lettres at Urbino, and Librarian to Duke Guido Ubaldo +under the Pontificate of Alexander VI. (1492–1503).</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4" +class="footnote">[4]</a> Pliny says (“Nat. +Hist.,” lib. xi., cap. 62) that the young vipers, impatient +to be born, break through the side of their mother, and so kill +her.</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> § 2. <i>Borrowed from +by Philosophers</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6" +class="footnote">[6]</a> Timæus, the Pythagorean +philosopher of Locri, and the Athenian Critias are represented by +Plato as having listened to the discourse of Socrates on a +Republic. Socrates calls on them to show such a state in +action. Critias will tell of the rescue of Europe by the +ancient citizens of Attica, 10,000 years before, from an inroad +of countless invaders who came from the vast island of Atlantis, +in the Western Ocean; a struggle of which record was preserved in +the temple of Naith or Athené at Sais, in Egypt, and +handed down, through Solon, by family tradition to Critias. +But first Timæus agrees to expound the structure of the +universe; then Critias, in a piece left unfinished by Plato, +proceeds to show an ideal society in action against pressure of a +danger that seems irresistible.</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> Plato’s +“Republic,” book ii.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8" +class="footnote">[8]</a> § 3. <i>Borrowed from +by Historians</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9" +class="footnote">[9]</a> § 4. <i>Honoured by the +Romans as Sacred and Prophetic</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> § 5. <i>And really +sacred and prophetic in the Psalms of David</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> § 6. <i>By the +Greeks</i>, <i>Poets were honoured with the name of +Makers</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12" +class="footnote">[12]</a> <i>Poetry is the one creative +art</i>. <i>Astronomers and others repeat what they +find</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13" +class="footnote">[13]</a> <i>Poets improve Nature</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14" +class="footnote">[14]</a> <i>And idealize man</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> <i>Here a Second Part of the +Essay begins</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16" +class="footnote">[16]</a> § 1. Poetry +defined.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17" +class="footnote">[17]</a> § 2. <i>Its +kinds</i>. <i>a.</i> <i>Divine</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote18"></a><a href="#citation18" +class="footnote">[18]</a> <i>b.</i> +<i>Philosophical</i>, <i>which is perhaps too imitative</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote19"></a><a href="#citation19" +class="footnote">[19]</a> Marcus Manilius wrote under +Tiberius a metrical treatise on Astronomy, of which five books on +the fixed stars remain.</p> +<p><a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20" +class="footnote">[20]</a> <i>c.</i> <i>Poetry +proper</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21" +class="footnote">[21]</a> § 3. <i>Subdivisions +of Poetry proper</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22" +class="footnote">[22]</a> <i>Its essence is in the +thought</i>, <i>not in apparelling of verse</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23" +class="footnote">[23]</a> <i>Heliodorus</i> was Bishop of +Tricca, in Thessaly, and lived in the fourth century. His +story of Theagenes and Chariclea, called the +“Æthiopica,” was a romantic tale in Greek which +was, in Elizabeth’s reign, translated into English.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24" +class="footnote">[24]</a> <i>The Poet’s Work and +Parts</i>. § 1. <span class="smcap">Work</span>: +<i>What Poetry does for us</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote25"></a><a href="#citation25" +class="footnote">[25]</a> <i>Their clay +lodgings</i>—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Such harmony is in immortal souls;<br /> +But whilst this muddy vesture of decay<br /> +Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">(Shakespeare, “Merchant of +Venice,” act v., sc. 1)</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote26"></a><a href="#citation26" +class="footnote">[26]</a> <i>Poetry best advances the end +of all earthly learning</i>, <i>virtuous action</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27" +class="footnote">[27]</a> <i>Its advantage herein over +Moral Philosophy</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28"></a><a href="#citation28" +class="footnote">[28]</a> <i>Its advantage herein over +History</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29" +class="footnote">[29]</a> “All men make faults, and +even I in this,<br /> +Authórising thy trespass with compare.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">Shakespeare, “Sonnet” +35.</p> +<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30" +class="footnote">[30]</a> “Witness of the times, +light of truth, life of memory, mistress of life, messenger of +antiquity.”—Cicero, “De Oratore.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> <i>In what manner the Poet goes +beyond Philosopher</i>, <i>Historian</i>, <i>and all others</i> +(<i>bating comparison with the Divine</i>).</p> +<p><a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32" +class="footnote">[32]</a> <i>He is beyond the +Philosopher</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33" +class="footnote">[33]</a> Horace’s “Ars +Poetica,” lines 372–3. But Horace wrote +“Non homines, non Di”—“Neither men, gods, +nor lettered columns have admitted mediocrity in +poets.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34" +class="footnote">[34]</a> <i>The moral +common-places</i>. Common Place, “Locus +communis,” was a term used in old rhetoric to represent +testimonies or pithy sentences of good authors which might be +used for strengthening or adorning a discourse; but said +Keckermann, whose Rhetoric was a text-book in the days of James +I. and Charles I., “Because it is impossible thus to read +through all authors, there are books that give students of +eloquence what they need in the succinct form of books of Common +Places, like that collected by Stobæus out of Cicero, +Seneca, Terence, Aristotle; but especially the book entitled +‘Polyanthea,’ provides short and effective sentences +apt to any matter.” Frequent resort to the Polyanthea +caused many a good quotation to be hackneyed; the term of +rhetoric, “a common-place,” came then to mean a good +saying made familiar by incessant quoting, and then in common +speech, any trite saying good or bad, but commonly without wit in +it.</p> +<p><a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35" +class="footnote">[35]</a> <i>Thus far Aristotle</i>. +The whole passage in the “Poetics” runs: “It is +not by writing in verse or prose that the Historian and Poet are +distinguished. The work of Herodotus might be versified; +but it would still be a species of History, no less with metre +than without. They are distinguished by this, that the one +relates what has been, the other what might be. On this +account Poetry is more philosophical, and a more excellent thing +than History, for Poetry is chiefly conversant about general +truth; History about particular. In what manner, for +example, any person of a certain character would speak or act, +probably or necessarily, this is general; and this is the object +of Poetry, even while it makes use of particular names. But +what Alcibiades did, or what happened to him, this is particular +truth.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote36"></a><a href="#citation36" +class="footnote">[36]</a> Justinus, who lived in the second +century, made an epitome of the history of the Assyrian, Persian, +Grecian, Macedonian, and Roman Empires, from Trogus Pompeius, who +lived in the time of Augustus.</p> +<p><a name="footnote37"></a><a href="#citation37" +class="footnote">[37]</a> <i>Dares Phrygius</i> was +supposed to have been a priest of Vulcan, who was in Troy during +the siege, and the Phrygian Iliad ascribed to him as early as the +time of Ælian, A.D. 230, was supposed, therefore, to be +older than Homer’s.</p> +<p><a name="footnote38"></a><a href="#citation38" +class="footnote">[38]</a> <i>Quintus Curtius</i>, a Roman +historian of uncertain date, who wrote the history of Alexander +the Great in ten books, of which two are lost and others +defective.</p> +<p><a name="footnote39"></a><a href="#citation39" +class="footnote">[39]</a> Not knowledge but practice.</p> +<p><a name="footnote40"></a><a href="#citation40" +class="footnote">[40]</a> <i>The Poet Monarch of all Human +Sciences</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41" +class="footnote">[41]</a> In “Love’s +Labour’s Lost” a resemblance has been fancied between +this passage and Rosalind’s description of Biron, and the +jest:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Which his fair tongue—conceit’s +expositor—<br /> +Delivers in such apt and gracious words,<br /> +That agéd ears play truant at his tables,<br /> +And younger hearings are quite ravishéd,<br /> +So sweet and voluble is his discourse.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote42"></a><a href="#citation42" +class="footnote">[42]</a> Virgil’s +“Æneid,” Book xii.:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“And shall this ground fainthearted +dastard<br /> + Turnus flying +view?<br /> +Is it so vile a thing to die?”</p> +<p style="text-align: right">(Phaer’s Translation +[1573].)</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43" +class="footnote">[43]</a> <i>Instances of the power of the +Poet’s work</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44" +class="footnote">[44]</a> <i>Defectuous</i>. This +word, from the French “defectueux,” is used twice in +the “Apologie for Poetrie.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45" +class="footnote">[45]</a> § II. <i>The</i> <span +class="smcap">Parts</span> <i>of Poetry</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote46"></a><a href="#citation46" +class="footnote">[46]</a> <i>Can Pastoral be +condemned</i>?</p> +<p><a name="footnote47"></a><a href="#citation47" +class="footnote">[47]</a> The close of Virgil’s +seventh Eclogue—Thyrsis was vanquished, and Corydon crowned +with lasting glory.</p> +<p><a name="footnote48"></a><a href="#citation48" +class="footnote">[48]</a> <i>Or Elegiac</i>?</p> +<p><a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49" +class="footnote">[49]</a> <i>Or Iambic</i>? <i>or +Satiric</i>?</p> +<p><a name="footnote50"></a><a href="#citation50" +class="footnote">[50]</a> From the first Satire of Persius, +line 116, in a description of Homer’s satire:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico<br +/> +Tangit, et admissus circum præcordia ludit,” +&c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Shrewd Flaccus touches each vice in his laughing friend. +Dryden thus translated the whole passage:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Unlike in method, with concealed design<br +/> +Did crafty Horace his low numbers join;<br /> +And, with a sly insinuating grace<br /> +Laughed at his friend, and looked him in the face:<br /> +Would raise a blush where secret vice he found;<br /> +And tickle, while he gently probed the wound;<br /> +With seeming innocence the crowd beguiled,<br /> +But made the desperate passes while he smiled.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote51"></a><a href="#citation51" +class="footnote">[51]</a> From the end of the eleventh of +Horace’s epistles (Lib. 1):</p> +<blockquote><p>“Coelum non animum mutant, qui trans mare +currunt,<br /> +Strenua nos exercet inertia; navibus atque<br /> +Quadrigis petimus bene vivere. Quod petis, hic est,<br /> +Est Ulubris, animus si te non deficit æquus.”</p> +<p>They change their skies but not their mind who run across the +seas;<br /> +We toil in laboured idleness, and seek to live at ease<br /> +With force of ships and four horse teams. That which you +seek is here,<br /> +At Ulubræ, unless your mind fail to be calm and clear.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“At Ulubræ” was equivalent to saying in the +dullest corner of the world, or anywhere. Ulubræ was +a little town probably in Campania, a Roman Little +Pedlington. Thomas Carlyle may have had this passage in +mind when he gave to the same thought a grander form in Sartor +Resartus: “May we not say that the hour of spiritual +enfranchisement is even this? When your ideal world, +wherein the whole man has been dimly struggling and inexpressibly +languishing to work, becomes revealed and thrown open, and you +discover with amazement enough, like the Lothario in Wilhelm +Meister, that your America is here or nowhere. The +situation that has not its duty, its ideal, was never occupied by +man. Yes, here, in this poor, miserable hampered actual +wherein thou even now standest, here or nowhere, is thy Ideal: +work it out therefrom, believe, live, and be free. Fool! +the Ideal is in thyself, the impediment too is in thyself. +Thy condition is but the stuff thou art to shape that same Ideal +out of. What matter whether such stuff be of this sort or +that, so the form thou give it be heroic, be poetic? O thou +that pinest in the imprisonment of the actual, and criest +bitterly to the gods for a kingdom wherein to rule and create, +know this of a truth, the thing thou seekest is already with +thee, here or nowhere, couldest thou only see.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote52"></a><a href="#citation52" +class="footnote">[52]</a> Or Comic?</p> +<p><a name="footnote53"></a><a href="#citation53" +class="footnote">[53]</a> <i>In pistrinum</i>. In the +pounding-mill (usually worked by horses or asses).</p> +<p><a name="footnote54"></a><a href="#citation54" +class="footnote">[54]</a> <i>Or Tragic</i>?</p> +<p><a name="footnote55"></a><a href="#citation55" +class="footnote">[55]</a> <i>The old song of Percy and +Douglas</i>, Chevy Chase in its first form.</p> +<p><a name="footnote56"></a><a href="#citation56" +class="footnote">[56]</a> <i>Or the Heroic</i>?</p> +<p><a name="footnote57"></a><a href="#citation57" +class="footnote">[57]</a> Epistles I. ii. 4. Better +than Chrysippus and Crantor. They were both philosophers, +Chrysippus a subtle stoic, Crantor the first commentator upon +Plato.</p> +<p><a name="footnote58"></a><a href="#citation58" +class="footnote">[58]</a> <i>Summary of the argument thus +far</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote59"></a><a href="#citation59" +class="footnote">[59]</a> <i>Objections stated and +met</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60" +class="footnote">[60]</a> Cornelius Agrippa’s book, +“De Incertitudine et Vanitate Scientiarum et Artium,” +was first published in 1532; Erasmus’s “Moriæ +Encomium” was written in a week, in 1510, and went in a few +months through seven editions.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61" +class="footnote">[61]</a> <i>The objection to rhyme and +metre</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote62"></a><a href="#citation62" +class="footnote">[62]</a> The first of these sentences is +from Horace (Epistle I. xviii. 69): “Fly from the +inquisitive man, for he is a babbler.” The second, +“While each pleases himself we are a credulous +crowd,” seems to be varied from Ovid (Fasti, iv. +311):—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Conscia mens recti famæ mendacia +risit:<br /> +Sed nos in vitium credula turba sumus.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A mind conscious of right laughs at the falsehoods of fame but +towards vice we are a credulous crowd.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63"></a><a href="#citation63" +class="footnote">[63]</a> <i>The chief objections</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote64"></a><a href="#citation64" +class="footnote">[64]</a> <i>That time might be better +spent</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote65"></a><a href="#citation65" +class="footnote">[65]</a> Beg the question.</p> +<p><a name="footnote66"></a><a href="#citation66" +class="footnote">[66]</a> <i>That poetry is the mother of +lies</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67"></a><a href="#citation67" +class="footnote">[67]</a> <i>That poetry is the nurse of +abuse</i>, <i>infecting us with wanton and pestilent +desires</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68"></a><a href="#citation68" +class="footnote">[68]</a> <i>Rampire</i>, rampart, the Old +French form of “rempart,” was “rempar,” +from “remparer,” to fortify.</p> +<p><a name="footnote69"></a><a href="#citation69" +class="footnote">[69]</a> “I give him free leave to +be foolish.” A variation from the line (Sat. I. i. +63), “Quid facias illi? jubeas miserum esse +libenter.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote70"></a><a href="#citation70" +class="footnote">[70]</a> <i>That Plato banished poets from +his ideal Republic</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote71"></a><a href="#citation71" +class="footnote">[71]</a> Which authority certain barbarous +and insipid writers would wrest into meaning that poets were to +be thrust out of a state.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72"></a><a href="#citation72" +class="footnote">[72]</a> Ion is a rhapsodist, in dialogue +with Socrates, who cannot understand why it is that his thoughts +flow abundantly when he talks of Homer. “I can +explain,” says Socrates; “your talent in expounding +Homer is not an art acquired by system and method, otherwise it +would have been applicable to other poets besides. It is a +special gift, imparted to you by Divine power and +inspiration. The like is true of the poet you +expound. His genius does not spring from art, system, or +method: it is a special gift emanating from the inspiration of +the Muses. A poet is light, airy, holy person, who cannot +compose verses at all so long as his reason remains within +him. The Muses take away his reason, substituting in place +of it their own divine inspiration and special impulse . . . Like +prophets and deliverers of oracles, these poets have their reason +taken away, and become the servants of the gods. It is not +they who, bereft of their reason, speak in such sublime strains, +it is the god who speaks to us, and speaks through +them.” George Grote, from whose volumes on Plato I +quote this translation of the passage, placed “Ion” +among the genuine dialogues of Plato.</p> +<p><a name="footnote73"></a><a href="#citation73" +class="footnote">[73]</a> <i>Guards</i>, trimmings or +facings.</p> +<p><a name="footnote74"></a><a href="#citation74" +class="footnote">[74]</a> <i>The Second Summary</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote75"></a><a href="#citation75" +class="footnote">[75]</a> <i>Causes of Defect in English +Poetry</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote76"></a><a href="#citation76" +class="footnote">[76]</a> From the invocation at the +opening of Virgil’s <i>Æneid</i> (line 12), +“Muse, bring to my mind the causes of these things: what +divinity was injured . . . that one famous for piety should +suffer thus.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77" +class="footnote">[77]</a> The Chancellor, Michel de +l’Hôpital, born in 1505, who joined to his great +political services (which included the keeping of the Inquisition +out of France, and long labour to repress civil war) great skill +in verse. He died in 1573.</p> +<p><a name="footnote78"></a><a href="#citation78" +class="footnote">[78]</a> Whose heart-strings the Titan +(Prometheus) fastened with a better clay. (Juvenal, +<i>Sat.</i> xiv. 35). Dryden translated the line, with its +context—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Some sons, indeed, some very few, we see<br +/> +Who keep themselves from this infection free,<br /> +Whom gracious Heaven for nobler ends designed,<br /> +Their looks erected, and their clay refined.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote79"></a><a href="#citation79" +class="footnote">[79]</a> The orator is made, the poet +born.</p> +<p><a name="footnote80"></a><a href="#citation80" +class="footnote">[80]</a> What you will; the first that +comes.</p> +<p><a name="footnote81"></a><a href="#citation81" +class="footnote">[81]</a> “Whatever I shall try to +write will be verse.” Sidney quotes from memory, and +adapts to his context, Tristium IV. x. 26.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Sponte sua carmen numeros veniebat ad +aptos,<br /> +Et quod temptabam dicere, versus erat.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote82"></a><a href="#citation82" +class="footnote">[82]</a> <i>His</i> for “its” +here as throughout; the word “its” not being yet +introduced into English writing.</p> +<p><a name="footnote83"></a><a href="#citation83" +class="footnote">[83]</a> <i>Defects in the +Drama</i>. It should be remembered that this was written +when the English drama was but twenty years old, and Shakespeare, +aged about seventeen, had not yet come to London. The +strongest of Shakespeare’s precursors had not yet begun to +write for the stage. Marlowe had not yet written; and the +strength that was to come of the freedom of the English drama had +yet to be shown.</p> +<p><a name="footnote84"></a><a href="#citation84" +class="footnote">[84]</a> There was no scenery on the +Elizabethan stage.</p> +<p><a name="footnote85"></a><a href="#citation85" +class="footnote">[85]</a> Messenger.</p> +<p><a name="footnote86"></a><a href="#citation86" +class="footnote">[86]</a> From the egg.</p> +<p><a name="footnote87"></a><a href="#citation87" +class="footnote">[87]</a> <i>Bias</i>, slope; French +“bìais.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote88"></a><a href="#citation88" +class="footnote">[88]</a> Juvenal, <i>Sat.</i> iii., lines +152–3. Which Samuel Johnson finely paraphrased in his +“London:”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Of all the griefs that harass the +distrest,<br /> +Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote89"></a><a href="#citation89" +class="footnote">[89]</a> George Bachanan (who died in +1582, aged seventy-six) had written in earlier life four Latin +tragedies, when Professor of Humanities at Bordeaux, with +Montaigne in his class.</p> +<p><a name="footnote90"></a><a href="#citation90" +class="footnote">[90]</a> <i>Defects in Lyric +Poetry</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote91"></a><a href="#citation91" +class="footnote">[91]</a> <i>Defects in Diction</i>. +This being written only a year or two after the publication of +“Euphues,” represents that style of the day which was +not created but represented by the book from which it took the +name of “Euphuism.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote92"></a><a href="#citation92" +class="footnote">[92]</a> Nizolian paper-books, are +commonplace books of quotable passages, so called because an +Italian grammarian, Marius Nizolius, born at Bersello in the +fifteenth century, and one of the scholars of the Renaissance in +the sixteenth, was one of the first producers of such +volumes. His contribution was an alphabetical folio +dictionary of phrases from Cicero: “Thesaurus Ciceronianus, +sive Apparatus Linguæ Latinæ e scriptis Tullii +Ciceronis collectus.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote93"></a><a href="#citation93" +class="footnote">[93]</a> “He lives and wins, nay, +comes to the Senate, nay, comes to the Senate,” &c.</p> +<p><a name="footnote94"></a><a href="#citation94" +class="footnote">[94]</a> Pounded. Put in the pound, +when found astray.</p> +<p><a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95" +class="footnote">[95]</a> <i>Capacities of the English +Language</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote96"></a><a href="#citation96" +class="footnote">[96]</a> <i>Metre and Rhyme</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote97"></a><a href="#citation97" +class="footnote">[97]</a> <i>Last Summary and playful +peroration</i>.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DEFENCE OF POESIE AND POEMS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 1962-h.htm or 1962-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/6/1962 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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