| When the
right vertuous E.W. and I were at the Emperours
Court togither, wee gave our selves to learne
horsemanship of Jon Pietro Pugliano, one that
with great commendation had the place of an
Esquire in his stable: and hee according to the
fertilnes of the Italian wit, did not onely
affoord us the demonstration of his practise, but
sought to enrich our mindes with the
contemplations therein, which he thought most
precious. But with none I remember mine eares
were at any time more loaden, then when (either
angred with slow paiment, or mooved with our
learnerlike admiration) hee exercised his speech
in the praise of his facultie. He said souldiers
were the noblest estate of mankind, and horsemen
the noblest of souldiers. He said they were the
maisters of warre, and ornaments of peace,
speedie goers, and strong abiders, triumphers
both in Camps and Courts: nay to so unbleeved 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 Pedenteria in
comparison, then would he adde certaine praises
by telling us what a peerless beast the horse was,
the one serviceable Courtier without flattery,
the beast of most bewtie, faithfulnesse, courage,
and such more, that if I had not beene a peece of
a Logician before I came to him, I thinke he
would have perswaded me to have wished myselfe a
horse. But thus much at least, with his no few
words he drave into me, that selflove is better
than any guilding, to make that seem gorgious
wherein ourselves be parties. Wherein if Pulianos
strong affection and weake arguments will not
satisfie you, I will give you a nearer example of
my selfe, who I know not by what mischance in
these my not old yeares and idlest times, having
slipt 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, then good reasons, beare with me,
since the scholler is to be pardoned that
followeth in the steps of his maister. And yet I
must say, that as I have more just cause to make
a pittifull defence of poor Poetrie, which from
almost the highest estimation of learning, is
falne to be the laughing stocke of children, so
have I need to bring some more available proofes,
since the former is by no man bard of his
deserved credit, the silly lat[t]er, hath had
even the names of Philosophers used to the
defacing of it, with great daunger of civill
warre among the Muses. And first truly to all
them that professing learning envey against
Poetrie, may justly be objected, that they go
very neare to ungratefulnesse, to seeke to deface
that which in the noblest nations and languages
that are knowne, hath bene the first light giver
to ignorance, and first nurse whose milk litle
& litle enabled them to feed afterwardes of
tougher knowledges. And will you play the Hedge-hogge,
that being received into the den, drave out his
host? Or rather the Vipers, that with their birth
kill their parents? Let learned Greece in any of
his manifold Sciences, be able to shew me one
booke before Musaeus, Homer, & Hesiod, all
three nothing else but Poets. Nay let any
Historie bee brought, that can say any writers
were there before them, if they were not men of
the same skill, as Orpheus, Linus, and some other
are named, who having bene the first of that
country that made pennes deliverers of their
knowledge to the posteritie, nay, justly
challenge to bee called their Fathers in learning.
For not onely in time they had this prioritie, (although
in it selfe antiquitie be venerable) but went
before them, as causes to draw with their
charming sweetnesse the wild untamed wits to an
admiration of knowledge. So as Amphion, was said
to moove stones with his Poetry, to build Thebes,
and Orpheus to be listened to by beasts, indeed
stonie and beastly people. So among the Romans,
were Livius, Andronicus, and Ennius, so in the
Italian language, the first that made it aspire
to be a treasure-house of Science, were the Poets
Dante, Bocace, and Petrach. So in our English,
wer Gower, and Chawcer, after whom, encoraged
& delighted with their excellent foregoing,
others have folowed to bewtify our mother toong,
aswel in the same kind as other arts. This did so
notably shew itself, that the Philosphers of
Greece durst not a long time apear to the world,
but under the mask of poets. So Thales,
Empedocles, and Parmenides, sang their naturall
Philosophie in verses. So did Pithagoras and
Phocillides, their morall Councels. So did
Tirteus in warre matters, and Solon in matters of
pollicie, or rather they being Poets, did
exercise their delightfull vaine in those points
of highest knowledge, which before them laie
hidden to the world. For, that wise Solon was
directly a Poet, it is manifest, having written
in verse the notable Fable of the Atlantick Iland,
which was continued by Plato. And truly even
Plato who so ever well considereth, shall finde
that in the body of his worke though the inside
& strength were Philosophie, the skin as it
were and beautie, depended most of Poetrie. For
all stands upon Dialogues, wherein hee faines
many honest Burgesses of Athens speak of such
matters, that if they had bene set on the Racke,
they would never have confessed them: besides his
Poeticall describing the circumstances of their
meetings, as the well ordering of a banquet, the
delicacie of a walke, with enterlacing meere
Tales, as Gyges Ring and others, which, who knows
not to bee flowers of Poetrie, did never walke
into Appollos Garden. And even Historiographers,
although their lippes sound of things done, and
veritie be written in their foreheads, have bene
glad to borrow both fashion and perchance weight
of the Poets. So Herodotus entitled his Historie,
by the name of the nine Muses, and both he and
all the rest that followed him, either stale, or
usurped of Poetrie, their passionate describing
of passions, the many particularities of battels
which no man could affirme, or if that be denied
me, long Orations put in the mouths of great
Kings and Captains, which it is certaine they
never pronuonced. So that truly Philosopher, nor
Historiographer, could at the first have entered
into the gates of popular judgements, if they had
not taken a great pasport of Poetrie, which in
all nations at this day where learning
flourisheth not, is plaine to be seene: in all
which, they have some feeling of Poetry. In
Turkey, besides their lawgiving devines, they
have no other writers but Poets. In our neighbor
Countrey Ireland, where truly learning goes verie
bare, yet are their Poets held in a devout
reverence. Even among the most barbarous and
simple Indians, where no writing is, yet they
have their Poets who make & sing songs which
they call Arentos, both of their Auncestors deeds,
and praises of their Gods. A sufficient
probability, that if ever learning come among
them, it must be by having their hard dull wittes
softened and sharpened with the sweete delights
of Poetrie, for untill they finde a pleasure in
the exercise of the minde, great promises of much
knowledge, wil little persuade them that know not
the frutes of knowledge. In VVales, the true
remnant of the auncient Brittons, as there are
good authorities to shew, the long time they had
Poets which they called Bardes: so thorow all the
conquests of Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans,
some of whom, did seeke to ruine 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 soone beginning, then in long continuing. But
since the Authors of most of our Sciences, were
the Romanes, and before them the Greekes, let us
a little stand upon their authorities, but even
so farre as to see what names they have given
unto this now scorned skill. Among the Romanes a
Poet was called Vates, which is as much as a
diviner, foreseer, or Prophet, as by his
conjoyned words Vaticinium, and Vaticinari, is
manifest, so heavenly a title did that excellent
people bestowe uppon this hart- ravishing
knowledge, and so farre were they carried into
the admiration thereof, that they thought in the
chanceable hitting uppon any of such verses,
great foretokens of their following fortunes,
were placed. Whereupon grew the word of Sortes
Vergilianae, when by suddaine opening Virgils
Booke, they lighted uppon some verse of his, as
it is reported by many, whereof the Histories of
the Emperours lives are full. As of Albinus the
Governour of our Iland, who in his childhood met
with this verse Arma amens capio, nec sat
rationis in armis: and in his age performed it,
although it were a verie vaine and godlesse
superstition, as also it was, to think spirits
were commaunded by such verses, whereupon this
word Charmes derived of Carmina, commeth: so yet
serveth it to shew the great reverence those
wittes were held in, and altogither not without
ground, since both by the Oracles of Delphos and
Sybillas prophesies, were wholly delivered in
verses, for that same exquisite observing of
number and measure in the words, and that high
flying libertie of conceit propper to the Poet,
did seeme to have some divine force in it. And
may not I presume a little farther, to shewe the
reasonablenesse of this word Vatis, and say that
the holy Davids Psalms are a divine Poeme? If I
do, I shal not do it without the testimony of
great learned men both auncient and moderne. But
even the name of Psalmes wil speak for me, which
being interpreted, is nothing but Songs: then
that it is fully written in meeter as all learned
Hebritians agree, although the rules be not yet
fully found. Lastly and principally, his handling
his prophecie, which is meerly Poeticall. For
what else is the awaking his musical Instruments,
the often and free chaunging of persons, his
notable Prosopopeias, when he maketh you as it
were see God comming in his maijestie, his
telling of the beasts joyfulnesse, and hils
leaping, but a heavenly poesie, wherein almost he
sheweth himselfe a passionate lover of that
unspeakable and everlasting bewtie, to be seene
by the eyes of the mind, onely cleared by faith?
But truly now having named him, I feare I seeme
to prophane that holy name, applying it to Poetry,
which is among us throwne downe to so ridiculous
an estimation. But they that with quiet
Judgements wil looke a little deeper into it,
shal find the end & working of it such, as
being rightly applied, deserveth not to be
scourged out of the Church of God. But now let us
see how the Greekes have named it, and how they
have deemed of it. The Greekes named him poieten,
which name, hath as the most excellent, gone
through other languages, it commeth of this word
poiein which is to make: wherein I know not
whether by luck or wisedome, we Englishmen have
met with the Greekes in calling him a Maker.
Which name, how high and incomparable a title it
is, I had rather were knowne by marking the scope
of other sciences, then by any partial allegation. There
is no Art delivered unto mankind that hath not
the workes of nature for his principall object,
without which they could not consist, and on
which they so depend, as they become Actors &
Plaiers, as it were of what nature will have set
forth. So doth the Astronomer looke upon the
starres, and by that he seeth set downe what
order nature hath taken therein. So doth the
Geometritian & Arithmetitian, in their divers
sorts of quantities. So doth the Musitians
intimes tel you, which by nature agree, which not.
The natural Philosopher thereon hath his name,
and the morall Philosopher standeth uppon the
naturall vertues, vices, or passions of man: and
follow nature saith he therein, and thou shalt
not erre. The Lawier saith, what men have
determined. The Historian, what men have done.
The Gramarian, speaketh onely of the rules of
speech, and the Rhetoritian and Logitian,
considering what in nature wil soonest proove,
and perswade thereon, give artificiall rules,
which still are compassed within the circle of a
question, according to the proposed matter. The
Phisitian wayeth the nature of mans bodie, &
the nature of things helpfull, or hurtfull unto
it. And the Metaphisicke though it be in the
second & abstract Notions, and therefore be
counted supernaturall, yet doth hee indeed build
upon the depth of nature. Only the Poet
disdeining to be tied to any such subjection,
lifted up with the vigor of his own invention,
doth grow in effect into another nature: in
making things either better then nature bringeth
foorth, or quite a new, formes such as never were
in nature: as the Heroes, Demigods, Cyclops,
Chymeras, Furies, and such like; so as he goeth
hand in hand with nature, not enclosed within the
narrow warrant of her gifts, but freely raunging
within the Zodiack of his owne wit. Nature never
set foorth the earth in so rich Tapistry as
diverse Poets have done, neither with so
pleasaunt rivers, fruitfull trees, sweete
smelling flowers, nor whatsoever els may make the
too much loved earth more lovely: her world is
brasen, the Poets only deliver a golden. But let
those things alone and goe to man, for whom as
the other things are, so it seemeth in him her
uttermost comming is imploied: & know whether
she have brought foorth so true a lover as
Theagenes, so constant a friend as Pylades, so
valiant a man as Orlando, so right a Prince as
Xenophons Cyrus, so excellent a man every way as
Virgils Aeneas. Neither let this be jestingly
conceived, bicause the works of the one be
essenciall, the other in imitation or fiction:
for everie understanding, knoweth the skill of
ech Artificer standeth in that Idea, or fore
conceit of the worke, and not in the worke it
selfe. And that the Poet hath that Idea, is
manifest, by delivering them foorth in such
excellencie as he had imagined them: which
delivering foorth, also is not wholly imaginative,
as we are wont to say by them that build Castles
in the aire: but so farre substancially it worketh,
not onely to make a Cyrus, which had bene but a
particular excellency as nature might have done,
but to bestow a Cyrus upon the world to make many
Cyrusses, if they will learne aright, why and how
that maker made him. Neither let it be deemed too
sawcy a comparison, to ballance the highest point
of mans wit, with the efficacie of nature: but
rather give right honor to the heavenly maker of
that maker, who having made man to his owne
likenes, set him beyond and over all the workes
of that second nature, which in nothing he
sheweth so much as in Poetry; when with the force
of a divine breath, he bringeth things foorth
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 wil keepeth
us from reaching unto it. But these arguments
will by few be understood, and by fewer graunted:
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. Now 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
Etimologie of his names will graunt, yet his
verie description which no man will denie, shall
not justly be barred from a principall
commendation. Poesie therefore, is an Art of
Imitation: for so Aristotle termeth it in the
word mimesis, that is to say, a representing,
counterfeiting, or figuring forth to speake
Metaphorically. A speaking Picture, with this end
to teach and delight. Of this have bene three
generall kindes, the chiefe both in antiquitie
and excellencie, were they that did imitate the
unconceivable excellencies of God. Such were
David in his Psalmes, Salomon in his song of
songs, in his Ecclesiastes and Proverbes. Moses
and Debora, in their Hymnes, and the wryter of
Jobe: Which beside other, the learned Emanuell,
Tremelius, and F. Junius, doo entitle the
Poeticall part of the scripture: against these
none will speake that hath the holie Ghost in due
holie reverence. In this kinde, though in a full
wrong divinitie, were Orpheus, Amphion, Homer in
his himnes, and manie other both Greeke and
Romanes. And this Poesie must be used by
whosoever will follow S. Paules counsaile, in
singing Psalmes when they are mery, and I knowe
is used with the frute of comfort by some, when
in sorrowfull panges of their death bringing
sinnes, they finde the consolation of the never
leaving goodnes. The second kinde, is of them
that deale with matters Philosophicall, either
morall as Tirteus, Phocilides, Cato; or naturall,
as Lucretius, and Virgils Georgikes; or
Astronomicall as Manilius and Pontanus; or
Historicall as Lucan: which who mislike the fault,
is in their judgement quite out of tast, &
not in the sweet food of sweetly uttered
knowledge. But bicause 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 bee Poets or no,
let Gramarians dispute, and goe to the third
indeed right Poets, of whom chiefly this question
ariseth: betwixt whom and these second, is such a
kinde of difference, as betwixt the meaner sort
of Painters, who counterfeyt onely such faces as
are set before them, and the more excelent, 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 looke of Lucretia,
when she punished in her selfe another faulte:
wherein hee painteth not Lucretia whom he never
saw, but painteth the outward bewty of such a
vertue. For these third be they which most
properly do imitate to teach & delight: and
to imitate, borrow nothing of what is, hath bin,
or shall be, but range onely 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
meerly make to imitate, and imitate both to
delight & teach, and delight to move men to
take that goodnesse in hand, which without
delight they would flie as from a stranger; and
teach to make them know that goodnesse 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. These be
subdivided into sundry more special denominations.
The most notable be the Heroick, Lyrick, Tragick,
Comick, Satyrick, Iambick, Elegiack, Pastorall,
and certaine others: some of these being tearmed
according to the matter they deale with, some by
the sort of verse they liked best to write in,
for indeed the greatest part of Poets, have
apparelled their poeticall inventions, in that
numbrous kind of writing which is called vers.
Indeed but apparelled verse: being but an
ornament and no cause to Poetrie, since there
have bene many most excellent Poets that never
versified, and now swarme many versifiers that
need never answere to the name of Poets. For
Xenophon who did imitate so excellently as to
give us effigiem justi imperii, the pourtraiture
of a just Empyre under the name of Cyrus, as
Cicero saith of him, made therein an absolute
heroicall Poeme. So did Heliodorus, in his sugred
invention of that picture of love in Theagenes
& Chariclea, and yet both these wrote in
prose, which I speake to shew, that it is not
ryming and versing that maketh a Poet, (no more
than a long gown maketh an Advocate, who though
he pleaded in Armour, should be an Advocat and no
souldier) but it is that faining notable images
of vertues, vices, or what els, with that
delightfull teaching, which must be the right
describing note to know a Poet by. Although
indeed the Senate of Poets hath 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 talke fashion, or like
men in a dreame, words as they chanceably fall
from the mouth, but peasing each sillable of
eache word by just proportion, according to the
dignitie of the suject. Now therfore it shal not
be amisse, first to way this latter sort of
poetrie by his workes, and then by his parts, and
if in neither of these Anatomies hee be
condemnable, I hope we shall obteine a more
favourable sentence. This purifying of wit, this
enriching of memorie, enabling of judgement, and
enlarging of conceit, which commonly we cal
learning, under what name so ever it come forth,
or to what immediate end soever it be directed,
the finall end is, to lead and draw us to as high
a perfection, as our degenerate soules made worse
by their clay-lodgings, 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
acquaintance with the stars; gave themselves to
Astronomie: others perswading themselves to be
Demygods, if they knew the causes of things,
became naturall and supernaturall Philosophers.
Some an admirable delight drew to Musicke; and
some the certaintie of demonstration to the
Mathematicks: but all one and other having scope
to know, & by knowledge to lift up the minde
from the dungeon of the bodie, to the enjoying
his owne divine essence. But when by the ballance
of experience it was found that the Astronomer
looking to the stars might fall in a ditch, that
the inquiring Philosopher might be blind in him
self, & the Mathematician, might draw forth a
straight line with a crooked hart. Then lo did
proofe, the overruler of opinions make manifest,
that all these are but serving sciences; which as
they have [each] a private end in themselves, so
yet are they all directed to the highest end of
the mistresse knowledge by the Greeks [called]
architectonike, which stands as I thinke, in the
knowledge of a mans selfe, in the Ethike and
Politique consideration, with the end of well
doing, and not of well knowing onely. Even as the
Sadlers next ende is to make a good Saddle, but
his further ende, to serve a nobler facultie,
which is horsmanship, so the horsemans to
souldiery: and the souldier not only to have the
skill, but to performe the practise of a souldier.
So that the ending end of all earthly learning,
being verteous action, those skils that most
serve to bring forth that, have a most just title
to be Princes over al the rest: wherein if we can
shew, the Poet is worthy to have it before any
other competitors: among whom principally to
challenge it, step forth the moral Philosophers,
whom me thinkes I see comming towards me, with a
sullen gravitie, as though they could not abide
vice by day-light, rudely cloathed for to witness
outwardly their contempt of outward things, with
books in their hands against glorie, whereto they
set their names: sophistically speaking against
subtiltie, and angry with any man in whom they
see the foule fault of anger. These men casting
larges as they go of definitions, divitions and
distinctions, with a scornful interrogative, do
soberly aske, whether it be possible to find any
path so ready to lead a man to vertue, as that
which teacheth what vertue is, & teacheth it
not only by delivering forth his very being, his
causes and effects, but also by making knowne his
enemie vice, which must be destroyed, and his
cumbersome servant passion, which must be mastred:
by shewing the generalities that contains it, and
the specialties that are derived from it. Lastly
by plaine setting downe, how it extends it selfe
out of the limits of a mans owne little world, to
the government of families, and mainteining of
publike societies. The Historian scarcely gives
leisure to the Moralist to say so much, but that
he loaden with old Mouse-eaten Records,
authorising himselfe for the most part upon other
Histories, whose greatest authorities are built
uppon the notable foundation Heresay, having much
ado to accord differing writers, & to pick
truth out of partiality: better acquainted with a
1000. yeres ago, then with the present age, and
yet better knowing how this world goes, then how
his owne wit runnes, curious for Antiquities, and
inquisitive of Novelties, a wonder to yoong
folkes, and a Tyrant in table talke; denieth in a
great chafe, that any man for teaching of vertue,
and vertues actions, is comparable to him. I am
Testis temporum, lux veritatis, vita memoriae,
magistra vitae, nuncia vetustatis. The
Philosopher saith he, teacheth a disputative
vertue, but I do an active. His vertue is
excellent in the dangerlesse Academy of Plato:
but mine sheweth forth her honourable face in the
battailes of Marathon, Pharsalia, Poietiers, and
Agincourt. Hee teacheth vertue by certaine
abstract considerations: but I onely 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 Booke, I put
the learners hand to the Lute, and if he be the
guide, I am the light. Then he would alleage you
innumerable examples, confirming storie by
stories, how much the wisest Senators and Princes,
have bene directed by the credit of Historie, 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, & the other the example.
Now whom shall we find, since the question
standeth for the highest forme in the schoole of
learning to be moderator? Truly as mee seemeth,
the Poet, and if not a moderator, even the man
that ought to carry the title from them both:
& much more from all the other serving
sciences. Therfore compare we the Poet with the
Historian, & with the morall Philosopher: and
if hee goe beyond them both, no other humaine
skill can match him. For as for the divine, with
all reverence it is ever to be excepted, not
onely for having his scope as far beyond any of
these, as Eternitie exceedeth a moment: but even
for passing ech of these in themselves. And for
the Lawier, though Jus be the daughter of Justice,
the chiefe of vertues, yet because he seeks to
make men good, rather formidine poenae, then
virtutis amore: or to say righter, doth not
endevor to make men good, but that their evill
hurt not others, having no care so he be a good
citizen, how bad a man he might be. Therefore, as
our wickednes maketh him necessarie, and
necessitie maketh him honorable, so he is not in
the deepest truth to stand in ranck with these,
who al endevour to take naughtinesse away, and
plant goodnesse even in the secretest cabinet of
our soules: and these foure are all that any way
deale in the consideration of mens manners, which
being the supreme knowledge, they that best breed
it, deserve the best commendation. The
Philosopher therefore, and the Historian, are
they which would win the goale, the one by
precept, the other by example: but both, not
having both, doo both halt. For the Philosopher
setting downe with thornie arguments, the bare
rule, is so hard of utterance, and so mistie to
be conceived, that one that hath no other guide
but him, shall wade in him till he be old, before
he shall finde suffiecient cause to be honest.
For his knowledge standeth so upon the abstract
and generall, that happie is that man who may
understand him, and more happie, 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, that his example draweth no
necessary consequence, and therefore a lesse
fruitfull doctrine. Now doth the peerlesse
Poet performe both, for whatsoever the
Philosopher saith should be done, he gives a
perfect picture of it by some one, by whom he
presupposeth it was done, so as he coupleth the
generall notion with the particuler example. A
perfect picture I say, for hee yeeldeth to the
powers of the minde an image of that whereof the
Philosopher bestoweth but a wordish description,
which doth neither strike, pearce, nor possesse,
the sight of the soule so much, as that other
doth. For as in outward things to a man that had
never seene an Elephant, or a Rinoceros, who
should tell him most exquisitely all their shape,
cullour, bignesse, and particuler marks, or of a
gorgious pallace an Architecture, who declaring
the full bewties, might well make the hearer able
to repeat as it were by roat all he had heard,
yet should never satisfie his inward conceit,
with being witnesse to it selfe of a true lively
knowledge: but the same man, assoon as he might
see those beasts wel painted, or that house wel
in modell, shuld straightwaies grow without need
of any description to a judicial comprehending of
them, so no doubt the Philosopher with his
learned definitions, be it of vertues or vices,
matters of publike policy or privat government,
replenisheth the memory with many infallible
grounds of wisdom, which notwithstanding lie
darke before the imaginative and judging power,
if they be not illuminated or figured forth by
the speaking picture of Poesie. Tully taketh much
paines, and many times not without Poeticall
helpes to make us know the force, love of our
country hath in us. Let us but hear old Anchices,
speaking in the middest of Troies flames, or see
Ulisses in the fulnesse of all Calipsoes
delightes, bewaile his absence from barraine and
beggarly Itheca. Anger the Stoickes said, was a
short madnesse: let but Sophocles bring you Ajax
on a stage, killing or whipping sheepe and oxen,
thinking them the Army of Greekes, with their
Chieftaines Agamemnon, and Menelaus: and tell me
if you have not a more familiar insight into
Anger, then finding in the schoolemen his Genus
and Difference. See whether wisdom and temperance
in Ulisses and Diomedes, valure in Achilles,
friendship in Nisus and Eurialus, even to an
ignorant man carry not an apparant shining: and
contrarily, the remorse of conscience in Oedipus;
the soone repenting pride in Agamemnon; the selfe
devouring crueltie in his father Atreus; the
violence of ambition, in the two Theban brothers;
the sower sweetnesse of revenge in Medea; and to
fall lower, the Terentian Gnato, and our Chawcers
Pander so exprest, that we now use their names,
to signify their Trades: And finally, all vertues,
vices, and passions, so in their owne naturall
states, laide to the view, that we seeme not to
heare of them, but clearly to see through them.
But even in the most excellent determination of
goodnesse, what Philosophers counsaile can so
readely direct a Prince, as the feined Cirus in
Xenophon, or a vertuous man in all fortunes: as
Aeneas in Virgill, or a whole Common-wealth, as
the Way of Sir Thomas Moore's Eutopia. I say the
Way, because where Sir Thomas Moore erred, it was
the fault of the man and not of the Poet: for
that Way of patterning a Common-wealth, was most
absolute though hee perchaunce hath not so
absolutely performed it. For the question is,
whether the fashioned Image of Poetrie, or the
regular instruction of Philosophie, hath the more
force in teaching? Wherein if the Philosophers
have more rightly shewed themselves Philosophers
then the Poets, have attained to the high toppe
of their profession (as in truth Mediocribus esse
poetis non Dii, non homines, non concessere
columnae,) it is (I say againe) not the fault of
the Art, but that by fewe men that Art can be
accomplished. Certainly even our Saviour Christ
could as well have given the morall common places
of uncharitablenesse and humblenesse, as the
divine narration of Dives and Lazarus, or of
disobedience and mercy, as the heavenly discourse
of the lost childe and the gracious Father, but
that his through searching wisedom, knew the
estate of Dives burning in hell, and Lazarus in
Abrahams bosome, would more constantly, as it
were, inhabit both the memorie and judgement.
Truly for my selfe (mee seemes) I see before mine
eyes, the lost childs disdainful prodigalitie,
turned to envy a Swines dinner: which by the
learned Divines are thought not to be Historical
acts, but instructing Parables. For conclusion, I
say the Philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth
obscurely, so as the learned onely can understand
him, that is to say, he teacheth them that are
alreadie taught. But the Poet is the food for the
tenderest stomacks, the Poet is indeed, the right
populer Philosopher. Whereof Esops Tales give
good proofe, whose prettie Allegories stealing
under the formall Tales of beastes, makes many
more beastly than beasts: begin to hear the sound
of vertue from those dumbe speakers. But now it
may be alleadged, that if this imagining of
matters be so fit for the imagination, then must
the Historian needs surpasse, who brings you
images of true matters, such as indeed were done,
and not such as fantastically or falsely may be
suggested to have bin done. Truly Aristotle
himselfe in his discourse of Poesie, plainly
determineth this question, saying, that Poetrie
is philosophoteron and spuodaioteron, that is to
say, it is more Philosophicall and more [studiously
serious] then History. His reason is, because
Poesie dealeth with katholou, that is to say,
with the universall consideration, and the
Historie with kathekaston, the particular. Now
saith he, the universall wayes what is fit to be
said or done, either in likelihood or necessitie,
which the Poesie considereth in his imposed names:
and the particular onely maketh whether
Alcibiades did or suffered this or that. Thus
farre Aristotle. 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 faithfully set downe,
there is no doubt which is to be chosen, no more
than whether you had rather have Vespacians
Picture right as he was, or at the Painters
pleasure nothing resembling. But if the question
be for your owne use and learning, whether it be
better to have it set downe as it should be, or
as it was; then certainly is more doctrinable,
the fained Cyrus in Xenophon, then the true Cyrus
in Justin: and the fained Aeneas in Virgill, then
the right Aeneas in Dares Phrigius: as to a Ladie
that desired to fashion her countenance to the
best grace: a Painter shuld more benefite her to
pourtrait a most sweete face, writing Canidia
uppon it, then to paint Canidia as shee was, who
Horace sweareth was full ill favoured. If the
Poet do his part aright, he will shew you in
Tantalus Atreus, and such like, nothing that is
not to be shunned; in Cyrus, Aeneas, Ulisses,
each thing to be followed: where the Historian
bound to tell things as things were, cannot be
liberall, without hee will be Poeticall of a
perfect patterne, but as Alexander or Scipio
himselfe, shew things, some to be liked, some to
be misliked, and then how will you discerne what
to follow, but by your own discretion which you
had without reading Q. Curtius. And whereas a man
may say, though in universall consideration of
doctrine, the Poet prevaileth, yet that the
Historie in his saying such a thing was done,
doth warrant a man more in that he shall follow.
The answere is manifest, that if he stand upon
that was, as if he should argue, because it
rained yesterday, therefore it should raine to
day, then indeede hath it some advantage to a
gross conceit. But if hee knowe an example onely
enformes a conjectured likelihood, and so goe by
reason, the Poet doth so farre exceed him, as hee
is to frame his example to that which is most
reasonable, be it in warlike, politike, or
private matters, where the Historian in his bare,
was, hath many times that which we call fortune,
to overrule the best wisedome. Manie times he
must tell events, whereof he can yield no cause,
or if he do, it must be poetically. For that a
fained example (for as for to moove, it is cleare,
since the fained may be tuned to the highest key
of passion) let us take one example wherein an
Historian and a Poet did concurre. Herodotus and
Justin doth both testifie, that Zopirus, King
Darius faithfull servant, seeing his maister long
resisted by the rebellious Babilonians, fained
himselfe in extreame disgrace of his King, for
verifying of which, he caused his owne nose and
eares to be cut off, and so flying to the
Babylonians was received, and for his knowne
valure so farre creadited, that hee did finde
meanes to deliver them over to Darius. Much like
matter doth Livy record of Tarquinius, and his
sonne. Xenophon excellently faineth such another
Strategeme, performed by Abradates in Cyrus
behalfe. Now would I faine knowe, if occasion be
presented unto you, to serve your Prince by such
an honest dissimulation, why you do not as well
learne it of Xenophons fiction, as of the others
veritie: and truly so much the better, as you
shall save your nose by the bargaine. For
Abradates did not counterfeyt so farre. So then
the best of the Historian is subject to the Poet,
for whatsoever action or faction, whatsoever
counsaile, pollicie, or warre, strategeme, the
Historian is bound to recite, that may the Poet
if hee list with his imitation make his owne;
bewtifying it both for further teaching, and more
delighting as it please him: having all from
Dante his heven 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 speake of the Art and not of the
Artificer. Now to that which commonly is
attributed to the praise of Historie, in respect
of the notable learning, is got by marking the
successe, as though therein a man shuld see
vertue exalted, & vice punished: truly that
commendation is peculiar to Poetrie, and farre
off from Historie: for indeed Poetrie ever sets
vertue so out in her best cullours, making
fortune her well-wayting handmayd, that one must
needs be enamoured of her. Well may you see
Ulisses in a storme and in other hard plights,
but they are but exercises of patience &
magnanimitie, to make them shine the more in the
neare following prosperitie. And of the contrary
part, if evill men come to the stage, they ever
goe out (as the Tragedie writer answered to one
that misliked the shew of such persons) so
manicled as they litle animate folkes to follow
them. But the Historie being captived to the
trueth of a foolish world, is many times a terror
from well-doing, and an encouragement to
unbrideled wickednes. For see we not valiant
Milciades rot in his fetters? The just Phocion
and the accomplished Socrates, put to death like
Traytors? The cruell Severus, live prosperously?
The excellent Severus miserably murthered? Sylla
and Marius dying in their beds? Pompey and Cicero
slain then when they wold have thought exile a
happinesse? See we not vertous Cato driven to
kill himselfe, and Rebell Caesar so advanced,
that his name yet after 1600. yeares lasteth in
the highest honor? And marke but even Caesars
owne words of the forenamed Sylla, (who in that
onely, did honestly to put downe his dishonest
Tyrannie) Litteras nescivet: as if want of
learning caused him to doo well. He ment it not
by Poetrie, which not content with earthly
plagues, deviseth new punishments in hell for
Tyrants: nor yet by Philosophy, which teacheth
Occidentos esse, but no doubt by skill in
Historie, for that indeed can affoord you
Cipselus, Periander, Phalaris, Dionisius, and I
know not how many more of the same kennel, that
speed well inough in their abhominable injustice
of usurpation. I conclude therefore that he
excelleth historie, not onely in furnishing the
minde 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 Lawrell Crowne upon the
Poets as victorious, not onely 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 then
the poet, yet do I thinke, that no man is so much
philophilosophos as to compare the philosopher in
mooving with the Poet. And that mooving is of a
higher degree than teaching, it may by this
appeare, that it is well nigh both the cause and
effect of teaching. For who will be taught, if he
be not mooved with desire to be taught? And what
so much good doth that teaching bring foorth, (I
speake still of morall doctrine) as that it
mooveth one to do that which it doth teach. For
as Aristotle saith, it is not gnosis but praxis
must be the frute: and how praxis can be without
being moved to practice, it is no hard matter to
consider. The Philosopher sheweth you the way,
hee enformeth you of the particularities, as well
of the tediousnes of the way, as of the pleasaunt
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 reade him, and reade him with attentive
studious painfulnesse, which constant desire,
whosoever hath in him, hath alreadie past halfe
the hardnesse of the way: and therefore is
beholding to the Philosopher, but for the other
halfe. Nay truly learned men have learnedly
thought, that where once reason hath so much over-mastered
passion, as that the minde hath a free desire to
doo well, the inward light each minde hath in it
selfe, is as good as a Philosophers booke, since
in Nature we know it is well, to doo well, and
what is well, and what is evill, although not in
the wordes of Art which Philosophers bestow uppon
us: for out of naturall conceit the Philosophers
drew it; but to be moved to doo that which wee
know, or to be mooved with desire to know. Hoc
opus, hic labor est. Now therein of all Sciences
I speake still of humane (and according to the
humane conceit) is our Poet the Monarch. For hee
doth not onely shew the way, but giveth so sweete
a prospect into the way, as will entice anie man
to enter into it: Nay he doth as if your journey
should lye through a faire vineyard, at the verie
first, give you a cluster of grapes, that full of
the taste, you may long to passe further. Hee
beginneth not with obscure definitions, which
must blurre the margent with interpretations, and
loade the memorie with doubtfulnesse: but hee
commeth to you with words set in delightfull
proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared
for the well enchanting skill of musicke, and
with a tale forsooth he commeth unto you, with a
tale, which holdeth children from play, and olde
men from the Chimney corner; and pretending no
more, doth intend the winning of the minde from
wickednes to vertue; even as the child is often
brought to take most wholesome things by hiding
them in such other as have a pleasaunt taste:
which if one should begin to tell them the nature
of the Alloes or Rhabarbarum they should receive,
wold sooner take their physic at their eares then
at their mouth, so it is in men (most of which,
are childish in the best things, til they be
cradled in their graves) glad they will be to
heare the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus,
Aeneas, and hearing them, must needes heare the
right description of wisdom, value, and justice;
which if they had bene barely (that is to say
Philosophically) set out, they would sweare they
be brought to schoole againe; that imitation
whereof Poetrie is, hath the most conveniencie to
nature of al other: insomuch that as Aristotle
saith, those things which in themselves are
horrible, as cruel battailes, unnatural monsters,
are made in poeticall imitation, delightfull.
Truly I have known men, that even with reading
Amadis de gaule, which God knoweth, wanteth much
of a perfect Poesie, have found their hearts
moved to the exercise of courtesie, liberalitie,
and especially courage. Who readeth Aeneas
carrying old Anchises on his backe, that wisheth
not it were his fortune to performe so excellent
an Act? Whom doth not those words of Turnus moove,
(the Tale of Turnus having planted his image in
the imagination) fugientam haec terra videbit?
Usqueadeone mori miserum est? Wher the
Philosophers as they think scorne to delight, so
must they be content little to moove; saving
wrangling whether Virtus be the chiefe or the
onely good; whether the contemplative or the
active life do excell; which Plato and Poetius
well knew: and therefore made mistresse
Philosophie very often borrow the masking raiment
of Poesie. For even those hard hearted evill men
who thinke vertue a schoole name, and know no
other good but indulgere genio, and therefore
despise the austere admonitions of the
Philosopher, and feele not the inward reason they
stand upon, yet will be content to be delighted,
which is all the good, fellow Poet seemes to
promise; and so steale to see the form of goodnes,
(which seene, they cannot but love) ere themseves
be aware, as if they tooke a medicine of Cheries.
Infinit proofes of the straunge effects of this
Poeticall invention, might be alleaged: onely two
shall serve, which are so often remembered, as I
thinke all men know them. The oone of Menemus
Agrippa, who when the whole people of Rome had
resolutely divided themselves from the Senate,
with apparent shew of utter ruine, though he were
for that time an excellent Orator, came not among
them upon trust either of figurative speeches, or
cunning insinuations, and much lesse with farre
set Maximes of Philosophie, which especially if
they were Platonike, they must have learned
Geometrie before they could well have conceived:
but forsooth, he behaveth himselfe like a homely
and familiar Poet. He telleth them a tale, that
there was a time, when all the parts of the bodie
made a mutinous conspiracie against the belly,
which they thought devoured the frutes of each
others labour: they concluded that 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 red, that onely words brought foorth: but
then so sudden and so good an alteration, for
upon reasonable conditions, a perfect
reconcilement ensued. The other is of Nathan the
Prophet, who when the holy David, had so farre
forsaken God, as to confirme Adulterie with
murther, when he was to do the tendrest office of
a friend, in laying his owne shame before his
eyes; sent by God to call againe so chosen a
servant, how doth he it? but by telling of a man
whose beloved lambe was ungratefully taken from
his bosome. The Application most divinely true,
but the discourse it selfe fained; which made
David (I speake of the second and instrumentall
cause) as in a glasse see his owne filthinesse as
that heavenly Psalme of mercie well testifieth.
By these therefore examples and reasons, I thinke
it may be manifest, that the Poet with that same
hand of delight, doth draw the mind more
effectually then any other Art doth. And so a
conclusion not unfitly ensue, that as vertue is
the most excellent resting place for al 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 worke, is
the most excellent workeman. But I am content not
onely to decipher him by his workes (although
workes in commendation and dispraise, must ever
hold a high authoritie) but more narrowly will
examine his parts, so that (as in a man) though
altogither may carrie a presence full of majestie
and bewtie, perchance in some one defectuous
peece we may finde blemish: Now in his parts,
kindes, or species, as you list to tearme them,
it is to be noted that some Poesies have coupled
togither two or three kindes, as the Tragicall
and Comicall, whereupon is risen the
Tragicomicall, some in the manner have mingled
prose and verse, as Sanazara and Boetius; some
have mingled matters Heroicall and Pastorall, but
that commeth all to one in this question, for if
severed they be good, the conjunction cannot be
hurtfull: therefore perchance forgetting some,
and leaving some as needlesse to be remembered.
It shall not be amisse, in a word to cite the
speciall kindes, to see what faults may be found
in the right use of them. Is it then the
Pastorall Poeme which is misliked? (For perchance
where the hedge is lowest they will soonest leape
over) is the poore pipe disdained, which
sometimes out of Moelibeus mouth, can shewe the
miserie of people, under hard Lords and ravening
souldiers? And again by Titerus, what
blessednesse is derived, to them that lie lowest,
from the goodnesse of them that sit highest?
Sometimes under the prettie tales of Woolves and
sheepe, can enclude the whole considerations of
wrong doing and patience; sometimes shew that
contentions for trifles, can get but a trifling
victory, wher perchance a man may see, that even
Alexander & Darius, when they strave who
should be Cocke of this worldes dunghill, the
benefit they got, was, that the afterlivers may
say, Haec memini & victum frustra contendere
Thirsim. Ex illo Coridon, Coridon est tempore
nobis. Or is it the lamenting Elegiack, which in
a kinde heart would moove rather pittie then
blame, who bewaileth with the great Philosopher
Heraclitus; the weaknesse of mankinde, and the
wretchednesse of the world: who surely is to bee
praised either for compassionate accompanying
just causes of lamentations, or for rightlie
painting out how weake be the passions of
woefulnesse? Is it the bitter but wholesome
Iambick, who rubbes the galled minde, in making
shame the Trumpet of villanie, with bolde and
open crying out against naughtinesse? Or the
Satirick, who Omne vafer vitium ridenti tangit
amico, who sportingly, never leaveth, till he
make a man laugh at follie; and at length ashamed,
to laugh at himself; which he cannot avoyde,
without avoyding the follie? who while Circum
praecordia ludit, giveth us to feele how many
headaches a passionate life bringeth us to? How
when all is done, Est Ulubris animus si nos non
deficit aequus. No perchance it is the Comick,
whom naughtie Play-makers and stage-keepers, have
justly made odious. To the arguments of abuse, I
will after answer, onely 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 & scornfull sort that
may be: so as it is impossible that any beholder
can be content to be such a one. Now as in
Geometrie, the oblique must be knowne as well as
the right, and in Arithmetick, the odde as well
as the even, so in the actions of our life, who
seeth not the filthinesse of evill, wanteth a
great foile to perceive the bewtie of vertue.
This doth the Comaedie handle so in our private
and domesticall matters, as with hearing it, wee
get as it were an experience what is to be looked
for of a niggardly Demea, of a crafty Davus, of a
flattering Gnato, of a vain- glorious Thraso and
not onely to know what effects are to be expected,
but to know who be such, by the signifying badge
given them by the Comaedient. And little reason
hath any man to say, that men learne the evill 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,
athough perchance the lack of his owne faults lie
so behinde his backe, that he seeth not himselfe
to dance the same measure: whereto yet nothing
can more open his eies, then to see his owne
actions contemptibly set forth. So that the right
use of Comaedie, will I thinke, by no bodie be
blamed; and much lesse of the high and excellent
Tragedie, that openeth the greatest woundes, and
sheweth forth the Ulcers that are covered with
Tissue, that maketh Kings feare to be Tyrants,
and Tyrants manifest their tyrannicall humours,
that with stirring the affects of Admiration and
Comiseration, teacheth the uncertaintie of this
world, and uppon how weak foundations guilden
roofes are builded: that maketh us know, Qui
sceptra Saevus duro imperio regit, Timet timentes,
metus in authorem redit. But how much it can move,
Plutarch yeeldeth a notable testimonie of the
abhominable Tyrant Alexander Pheraeus, from whose
eyes a Tragedie well made and represented, drew
abundance of teares, who without all pittie had
murthered infinite numbers, and some of his owne
bloud: so as he that was not ashamed to make
matters for Tragedies, yet could not resist the
sweete violence of a Tragedie. And if it wrought
no further good in him, it was, that in despight
of himself, withdrew himselfe form hearkening to
that which might mollifie his hard heart. But it
is not the Tragedie they doe mislike, for it were
too absurd to cast out so excellent a
representation of whatsoever is most woorthie to
be learned. Is it the Lyricke that most
displeaseth, who with his tuned Lyre and well
accorded voice, giveth praise, the reward of
vertue, to vertuous acts? who giveth morall
preceptes and naturall Problemes, who sometimes
raiseth up his voyce to the height of the heavens,
in singing the laudes of the immortall God?
Certainly I must confesse mine owne
barbarousnesse, I never heard the old Song of
Percy and Duglas, that I founde not my heart
mooved more than with a Trumpet; and yet is it
sung but by some blinde Crowder, with no rougher
voyce, then rude stile: which being so evill
apparelled in the dust and Cobwebbes of that
uncivill age, what would it worke, trimmed in the
gorgeous eloquence of Pindar? In Hungarie I have
seene it the manner at all Feastes and other such
like meetings, to have songs of their ancestors
valure, which that right souldierlike nation,
think one of the chiefest kindlers of brave
courage. The incomparable Lacedemonians, did not
onelie carrie that kinde of Musicke 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 lustie men were to tell
what they did, the old men what they had done,
and the yoong what they would doo. And where a
man may say that Pindare many times praiseth
highly Victories of small moment, rather matters
of sport then vertue, as it may be answered, it
was the fault of the Poet, and not of the Poetrie;
so indeed the chiefe fault was, in the time and
custome of the Greekes, who set those toyes at so
high a price, that Philip of Macedon reckoned a
horse-race wonne at Olympus, among his three
fearfull felicities. But as the unimitable
Pindare often did, so is that kind most capable
and most fit, to awake the thoughts from the
sleepe of idlenesse, to embrace honourable
enterprises. Their rests the Heroicall, whose
verie name I thinke should daunt all backbiters.
For by what conceit can a tongue bee directed to
speake evil of that which draweth with him no
lesse champions then Achilles, Cirus, Aeneas,
Turnus, Tideus, Rinaldo, who doeth not onely
teache and moove to a truth, but teacheth and
mooveth to the most high and excellent truth: who
maketh magnanimitie and justice, shine through
all mistie fearfulnesse and foggie desires. Who
if the saying of Plato and Tully bee true, that
who could see vertue, woulde be woonderfullie
ravished with the love of her bewtie. This man
setteth her out to make her more lovely in her
holliday apparell, to the eye of anie that will
daine, not to disdaine untill they understand.
But if any thing be alreadie said in the defence
of sweete Poetrie, all concurreth to the
mainteining the Heroicall, which is not onlie a
kinde, but the best and most accomplished kindes
of Poetrie. For as the Image of each Action
stirreth and instructeth the minde, so the loftie
Image of such woorthies, moste enflameth the
minde with desire to bee woorthie: and enformes
with counsaile how to bee woorthie. Onely let
Aeneas bee worne in the Tablet of your memorie,
how hee governeth himselfe in the ruine of his
Countrey, in the preserving his olde Father, and
carrying away his religious Ceremonies, in
obeying Gods Commaundment, to leave Dido, though
not onelie all passionate kindeness, not even the
humane consideration of vertuous gratefulnesse,
would have craved other of him: how in stormes,
how in sports, how in warre, how in peace, how a
fugitive, how victorious, how besieged, how
beseiging, how to straungers, how to Allies, how
to enemies, how to his owne. Lastly, how in his
inwarde selfe, and how in his outwarde government,
and I thinke in a minde moste prejudiced with a
prejudicating humour, Hee will bee founde in
excellencie fruitefull. Yea as Horace saith,
Melius Chrisippo & Crantore: but truly I
imagin it falleth out with these Poet-whippers,
as with some good women who often are sicke, but
in faith they cannot tel where. So the name of
Poetrie is odious to them, but neither his cause
nor effects, neither the summe that containes him,
nor the particularities descending from him, give
any fast handle to their carping dispraise. Since
then Poetrie is of all humane learnings the most
ancient, and of most fatherly antiquitie, as from
whence other learnings have taken their
beginnings; Since it is so universall, that no
learned nation doth despise it, nor barbarous
nation is without it; Since both Romane &
Greeke gave such divine names unto it, the one of
prophesying, the other of making; and that indeed
the 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 onely, onely
bringeth his owne stuffe, and doth not learn a
Conceit out of a matter, but maketh matter for a
Conceit. Since neither his description, nor end,
containing any evill, the thing described cannot
be evil; since his effects be so good as to teach
goodnes, and delight the learners of it; since
therein (namely in morall doctrine the chiefe of
all knowledges) hee doth not onely farre 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 uncleannesse) hath whole
parts in it Poeticall, and that even our Savior
Christ vouchsafed to use the flowers of it: since
all his kindes are not only in their united
formes, but in their severed dissections fully
commendable, I thinke, (and thinke I thinke
rightly) the Lawrell Crowne appointed for
triumphant Captaines, doth worthily of all other
learnings, honour the Poets triumph. But bicause
we have eares as well as toongs, and that the
lightest reasons that may be, will seeme to waigh
greatly, if nothing be put in the counterballance,
let us heare, and as well as we can, ponder what
objections be made against this Art, which may be
woorthie either of yeelding, or answering. First
truly I note, not onely in these mysomousoi, Poet-haters,
but in all that kind of people who seek a praise,
by dispraising others, that they do prodigally
spend a great many wandring words in quips and
scoffes, carping and taunting at each thing,
which by sturring the spleene, may staie the
brain from a th[o]rough beholding the worthinesse
of the subject. Those kind of objections, as they
are full of a verie idle easinesse, since there
is nothing of so sacred a majestie, but that an
itching toong may rub it selfe upon it, so
deserve they no other answer, but in steed of
laughing at the jeast, to laugh at the jeaster.
We know a playing wit can praise the discretion
of an Asse, the comfortablenes of being in debt,
and the jolly commodities of being sicke of the
plague. So of the contrary side, if we will turne
Ovids verse, Ut lateat virtus, prox imitate mali,
that good lye hid, in nearnesse of the evill.
Agrippa will be as mery in shewing the vanitie of
Science, as Erasmus was in the commending of
folly: neither shal any man or matter, escape
some touch of these smiling Raylers. But for
Erasmus and Agrippa, they had an other foundation
then the superficiall part would promise. Marry
these other pleasaunt fault-finders, who will
correct the Verbe, before they understande the
Nowne, and confute others knowledge, before they
confirme their owne, I would have them onely
remember, that scoffing commeth not of wisedome;
so as the best title in true English they get
with their meriments, is to be called good fooles:
for so have our grave forefathers ever tearmed
that humorous kinde of jesters. But that which
giveth greatest scope to their scorning humor, is
ryming and versing. It is alreadie said (and as I
thinke truly said) it is not ryming and versing
that maketh Poesie: One may be a Poet without
versing, and a versefier without Poetrie. But yet
presuppose it were inseperable, as indeed it
seemeth Scalliger judgeth truly, it were an
inseperable commendation. For if Oratio, next to
Ratio, Speech next to Reason, be the greatest
gift bestowed upon Mortalitie, that cannot bee
praiseless, which doth most polish that blessing
of speech; which considereth each word not onely
as a man may say by his forcible qualitie, but by
his best measured quantity: carrying even in
themselves a Harmonie, without perchance number,
measure, order, proportion, be in our time growne
odious. But laie aside the just praise it hath,
by being the onely fit speech for Musicke, (Musicke
I say the most divine striker of the senses) Thus
much is undoubtedly true, that if reading be
foolish without remembring, Memorie being the
onely 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
memorie, the reason is manifest, the words (besides
their delight, which hath a great affinitie to
memorie) being so set as one cannot be lost, but
the whole woorke failes: which accusing it selfe,
calleth the remembrance back to it selfe, and so
most strongly confirmeth it. Besides one word, so
as it were begetting an other, as be it in rime
or measured verse, by the former a man shall have
a neare gesse to the follower. Lastly even they
that have taught the Art of memory, have shewed
nothing so apt for it, as a certain roome divided
into many places, well & thoroughly knowne:
Now that hath the verse in effect perfectly,
everie word having his natural seat, which must
needs make the word remembred. But what needes
more in a thing so knowne to all men. Who is it
that ever was scholler, that doth not carry away
som verse of Virgil, Horace, or Cato, which in
his youth hee learned, and even to his old age
serve him for hourely lessons; as Percontatorem
fugito nam garrulus idem est, Dum tibi quisq;
placet credula turba sumas. But the fitnes it
hath for memorie, is notably prooved by all
deliverie of Arts, wherein for the most part,
from Grammer, to Logick, Mathematickes, Physick,
and the rest, the Rules chiefly necessa[r]ie to
be borne away, are compiled in verses. So that
verse being in it selfe sweet and orderly, and
being best for memorie, the onely handle of
knowledge, it must be in jest that any man can
speak against it. Now then goe we to the most
important imputations laid to the poore Poets,
for ought I can yet learne, they are these. First,
that there beeing manie other more frutefull
knowledges, a man might better spend his time in
them, then in this. Secondly, that it is the
mother of lyes. Thirdly, that it is the nurse of
abuse, infecting us with many pestilent desires,
with a Sirens sweetnesse, drawing the minde to
the Serpents taile of sinfull fansies; and herein
especially Comedies give the largest field to
eare, as Chawcer saith, how both in other nations
and in ours, before Poets did soften us, we were
full of courage given to martial exercises, the
pillers of man-like libertie, and not lulled a
sleepe in shadie idlenes, with Poets pastimes.
And lastly and chiefly, they cry out with open
mouth as if they had shot Robin-hood, that Plato
banisheth them out of his Commonwealth. Truly
this is much, if there be much truth in it. First
to the first. That a man might better spend his
time, is a reason indeed: but it doth as they say,
but petere principium. For if it be, as I affirme,
that no learning is so good, as that which
teacheth and moveth to vertue, and that none can
both teach and move thereto so much as Poesie,
then is the conclusion manifest; that incke and
paper cannot be to a more profitable purpose
imployed. And certainly though a man should
graunt their first assumption, it should follow (mee
thinks) very unwillingly, that good is not good,
because better is better. But I still and utterly
deny, that there is sprung out of the earth a
more fruitfull knowledge. To the second therfore,
that they should be the principall lyers, I
answere Paradoxically, but truly, I think truly: that
of all writers under the Sunne, the Poet is the
least lyer: and though he wold, as a Poet can
scarecely be a lyer. The Astronomer with his
cousin the Geometrician, can hardly escape, when
they take upon them to measure the height of the
starres. How often thinke you do the Phisitians
lie, when they averre things good for sicknesses,
which afterwards send Charon a great number of
soules drowned in a potion, before they come to
his Ferrie? And no lesse of the rest, which take
upon them to affirme. Now for the Poet, he
nothing affirmeth, and therefore never lieth: for
as I take it, to lie, is to affirme that to bee
true, which is false. So as the other Artistes,
and especially the Historian, affirming manie
things, can in the clowdie knowledge of mankinde,
hardly escape from manie lies. But the Poet as I
said before, never affirmeth, the Poet never
maketh any Circles about your imagination, to
conjure you to beleeve for true, what he writeth:
he citeth not authorities of other histories,
even for his entrie, calleth the sweete Muses to
inspire unto him a good invention. In troth, not
laboring to tel 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
alleaged to David, which as a wicked man durst
scarce say, so think I none so simple, wold say,
that Esope lied, in the tales of his beasts: for
who thinketh Esope wrote it for actually true,
were wel wothie to have his name Cronicled among
the beasts he writeth of. What childe is there,
that comming to a play, and seeing Thebes written
in great letters upon an old Doore, doth beleeve
that it is Thebes? If then a man can arrive to
the childes age, to know that the Poets persons
and dooings, are but pictures, what should be,
and not stories what have bin, they will never
give the lie to things not Affirmatively, but
Allegorically and figuratively written; and
therefore as in historie looking for truth, they
may go away full fraught with falshood: So in
Poesie, looking but for fiction, they shall use
the narration but as an imaginative groundplat of
a profitable invention. But hereto is replied,
that the Poets give names to men they write of,
which argueth a conceit of an actuall truth, and
so not being true, prooveth a falshood. And dooth
the Lawier lye, then when under the names of John
of the Stile, and John of the Nokes, hee 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 anie Historie.
Painting men, they cannot leave men namelesse:
wee see, wee cannot plaie at Chestes, but that
wee must give names to our Chessemen; and yet mee
thinkes he were a verie partiall Champion of
truth, that would say wee lyed, for giving a
peece of wood the reverende title of a Bishop.
The Poet nameth Cyrus and Aeneas, no other way,
then to shewe what men of their fames, fortunes,
and estates, should doo. Their third is, how much
it abuseth mens wit, training it to wanton
sinfulnesse, and lustfull love. For indeed that
is the principall if not onely abuse, I can heare
alleadged. They say the Comedies rather teach
then reprehend amorous conceits. They say the
Lirick is larded with passionat Sonets, the
Elegiack weeps the want of his mistresse, and
that even to the Heroical, Cupid hath ambitiously
climed. Alas Love, I would thou couldest as wel
defend thy selfe, as thou canst offend others: I
would those on whom thou doest attend, could
either put thee away, or yeeld good reason why
they keepe thee. But grant love of bewtie to be a
beastly fault, although it be verie hard, since
onely man and no beast hath that gift to discerne
bewtie, graunt that lovely name of love to
deserve all hatefull reproches, although even
some of my maisters the Philosophers spent a good
deale of their Lampoyle in setting foorth the
excellencie of it, graunt I say, what they will
have graunted, that not onelie love, but lust,
but vanitie, but if they will list scurrilitie,
possesse manie leaves of the Poets bookes, yet
thinke I, when this is graunted, they will finde
their sentence may with good manners put the last
words foremost; and not say, that Poetrie abuseth
mans wit, but that mans wit abuseth Poetrie. For
I will not denie, but that mans wit may make
Poesie, which should be eikastike, which some
learned have defined figuring foorth good things
to be phantastike, which doth contrariwise infect
the fancie with unwoorthie objects, as the
Painter 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 sonne Isaack, Judith killing Holofernes,
David fighting with Golias, may leave those, and
please an ill pleased eye with wanton shewes of
better hidden matters. But what, shal the abuse
of a thing, make the right use odious? Nay truly
though I yeeld that Poesie may not onely be
abused, but that being abused it can do more hurt
then anie other armie of words: yet shall it be
so farre from concluding, that the abuse should
give reproach to the abused, that contrariwise,
it is a good reason, that whatsoever being abused,
doth most harme, being rightly used (and upon the
right use, ech thing receives his title) doth
most good. Do we not see skill of Phisicke the
best ramper to our often assaulted bodies, being
abused, teach poyon the most violent destroyer?
Doth not knowledge of Law, whose end is, to even
& right all things, being abused, grow the
crooked fosterer of horrible injuries? Doth not (to
go to the highest) Gods word abused, breed
heresie, and his name abused, become blasphemie?
Truly a Needle cannot do much hurt, and as truly
(with leave of Ladies be it spoken) it cannot do
much good. With a swoord thou maist kill thy
Father, and with a swoord thou maist defende the
Prince and Countrey: so that, as in their calling
Poets, fathers of lies, they said nothing, so in
this their argument of abuse, they proove the
commendation. They alledge herewith, that before
Poets began to be in price, our Nation had set
their hearts delight uppon action, and not
imagination, rather doing things worthie to be
written, then writing things fit to be done. What
that before times was, I think scarcely Sp[h]inx
can tell, since no memorie is so ancient, that
hath not the precedens of Poetrie. And certain it
is, that in our plainest homelines, yet never was
the Albion Nation without Poetrie. Marry this
Argument, though it be leviled against Poetrie,
yet is it indeed a chain-shot against all
learning or bookishnes, as they commonly terme it.
Of such mind were certaine Gothes, of whom it is
written, that having in the spoile of a famous
Cittie, taken a faire Librarie, one hangman
belike fit to execute the frutes of their wits,
who had murthered a great number of bodies,
woulde have set fire in it. No said an other
verie gravely, take heed what you do, for while
they are busie about those toyes, wee shall with
more leisure conqure their Countries. This indeed
is the ordinarie doctrine of ignorance, and many
words sometimes I have heard spent in it: but
bicause this reason is generally against al
learning, as well as Poetrie, or rather all
learning but Poetrie, because it were too great 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 manie knowledges,
which is reading; I onlely with Horace, to him
that is of that opinion, jubeo stultum esse
libenter, for as for Poetrie it selfe, it is the
freest from this objection, for Poetrie is the
Companion of Camps. I dare undertake, Orlando
Furioso, or honest king Arthure, will never
displease a souldier: but the quidditie of Ens
& Prima materia, will hardly agree with a
Corcelet. And therefore as I said in the
beginning, even Turkes and Tartars, are delighted
with Poets. Homer a Greeke, flourished, before
Greece flourished: and if to a slight conjecture,
a conjecture may bee apposed, truly it may seem,
that as by him their learned men tooke almost
their first light of knowledge, so their active
men, received their first motions of courage.
Onely Alexanders example may serve, who by
Plutarche is accounted of such vertue, that
fortune was not his guide, but his footestoole,
whose Acts speake for him, though Plutarche did
not: indeede the Phoenix of warlike Princes. This
Alexander, left his schoolemaister living
Aritotle behinde him, but tooke dead Homer with
him. Hee put the Philosopher Callithenes to death,
for his seeming Philosophicall, indeed mutinous
stubbornnesse, but the chiefe thing hee was ever
heard to wish for, was, that Homer had bene alive.
Hee well founde hee received more braverie of
minde by the paterne of Achilles, then 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 Uticencis, whose authoritie I
would much more have reverenced: But it was the
former, in truth a bitter punisher of faultes,
but else a man that had never sacrificed to the
Graces. He misliked and cried out against all
Greeke learning, and yet being foure score yeares
olde began to learne it, belike fearing that
Pluto understood not Latine. Indeed the Romane
lawes allowed no person to bee to the warres, but
hee that was in the souldiers Role. And therefore
though Cato misliked his unmustred person, he
misliked not his worke. And if hee had, Scipio
Nasica, (judged by common consent the best Romane)
loved him: both the other Scipio brothers, who
had by their vertues no lesse surnames then of
Asia and Afficke, so loved him, that they caused
his bodie to be buried in their Sepulture. So as
Catoes authoritie beeing but against his person,
and that answered with so farre greater then
himselfe, is herein of no validitie. But now
indeede my burthen is great, that Plato his name
is laide uppon me, whom I must confessse of all
Philosophers, I have ever esteemed most worthie
of reverence; and with good reason, since of all
Philosophers hee is the most Poeticall: yet if
hee will defile the fountain out of which his
flowing streames have proceeded, let us boldly
examine with what reasons hee did it. First truly
a man might maliciously object, that Plato being
a Philosopher, was a naturall enemy of Poets. For
indeede after the Philosophers had picked out of
the sweete misteries of Poetrie, the right
discerning true points of knowledge: they
forthwith putting it in methode, and making a
Schoole Art of that which the Poets did onely
teach by a divine delightfulnes, beginning to
spurne at their guides, like ungratefull
Prentices, were not content to set up shop for
themselves, but sought by all meanes to discredit
their maisters, which by the force of delight
being barred them, the lesse they could overthrow
them, the more they hated them. For indeed they
found for Homer, seven cities, strave who should
have him for their Cittizen, where so many Cities
banished Philosophers, as not fit members to live
among them. For onely repeating certaine of
Euripides verses, many Atheniens had their lives
saved of the Siracusans, where the Atheniens
themseves thought many Philosophers unworthie to
live. Certaine Poets, as Simonides, and Pindarus,
had so prevailed with Hiero the first, that of a
Tyrant they made him a just King: where Plato
could do so little with Dionisius, that he
himselfe of a Philosopher, was made a slave. But
who should do thus, I confesse should requite the
objections made against Poets, with like
cavilations against Philosophers: as likewise one
should do, that should bid one read Phaedrus or
Simposium in Plato, or the discourse of love in
Plutarch, and see whether any Poet do authorise
abhominable filthinesse as they doo. Againe, a
man might aske, out of what Common- wealth Plato
doth banish them, in sooth, thence where himselfe
alloweth communitie of women. So as belike this
banishment grew not for effeminate wantonnesse,
since little should Poetical Sonnets be hurtful,
when a man might have what woman he listed. But I
honor Philosophicall instructions, and blesse the
wits which bred them: so as they be not abused,
which is likewise stretched to Poetrie. S. Paul
himselfe sets a watch-word uppon Philosophie,
indeed upon the abuse. So doth PLato uppon the
abuse, not upon Poetrie. Plato found fault that
the Poettes of his time, filled the worlde with
wr[o]ng opinions of the Gods, making light tales
of that unspotted essence; and therfore wold not
have the youth depraved with such opinions:
heerein may much be said; let this suffice. The
Poets did not induce such opinions, but did
imitate those opinions alreadie induced. For all
the Greeke stories can well testifie, that the
verie 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, and of the cause why Oracles
ceased, of the divine providence, & see
whether the Theology of that nation, stood not
upon such dreams, which the Poets indeede
superstitiously observed. And truly since they
had not the light of Christ, did much better in
it, then the Philosophers, who shaking off
superstition, brought in Atheisme. Plato therfore,
whose authoritie, I had much rather justly
consture, then unjustly resist: ment not in
generall of Poets, in those words of which Julius
Scaliger saith; Qua authoritate barbari quidam
atq; hispidi abuti velint ad poetas e rep.
Exigendos. But only ment to drive out those wrong
opinions of the Deitie: wherof now without
further law, Christianitie hath taken away all
the hurtfull beliefe, perchance as he thought
nourished by then esteemed Poets. And a man need
go no further then to Plato himselfe to knowe his
meaning: who in his Dialogue called Ion, giveth
high, and rightly, divine commendation unto
Poetrie. So as Plato banisheth the abuse, not the
thing, not banishing it, but giving due honour to
it, shall be our Patron, and not our adversarie.
For indeed, I had much rather, since truly I may
do it, shew their mistaking of Plato, under whose
Lyons skinne, they would make an Aslike braying
against Poesie, then go about to overthrow his
authoritie; whome the wiser a man is, the more
just cause he shall finde to have in admiration:
especially since he attibuteth unto Poesie, more
then my selfe do; namely, to be a verie inspiring
of a divine force, farre above mans wit, as in
the forenamed Dialogue is apparant. Of the other
side, who would shew the honours have bene by the
best sort of judgements graunted them, a whole
sea of examples woulde present themselves;
Alexanders, Caesars, Scipioes, all favourers of
Poets: Laelius, called the Romane Socrates
himselfe a Poet; so as part of
Heautontimoroumenon in Terence, was supposed to
bee made by him. And even the Greeke Socrates,
whome Appollo confirmed to bee the onely wise man,
is said to have spent part of his olde time in
putting Esopes Fables into verses. And therefore
full evill should it become his scholler Plato,
to put such words in his maisters mouth against
Poets. But what needs more? Aristotle writes of
the Arte of Poesie, and why, if it should not bee
written? Plutarche teacheth the use to bee
gathered of them, and how, if they should not bee
reade? And who reades Plutarches either Historie
or Philosophie, shall finde hee trimmeth both
their garments with gardes of Poesie. But I list
not to defend Poesie with the helpe of his
underling Historiographie. Let it suffice to have
shewed, it is a fit soyle for praise to dwell
uppon; and what dispraise may set uppon it, is
either easily overcome, or transformed into just
commendation. So that since the excellencies of
it, may bee so easily and so justly confirmed,
and the lowe creeping objections so soone trodden
downe, it not beeing an Art of lyes, but of true
doctrine; not of effoeminatenesse, but of notable
stirring of courage; not of abusing mans wit; but
of strengthening mans wit; not banished, but
honored by Plato; Let us rather plant more
Lawrels for to ingarland the Poets heads (which
honor of being Lawreate, as besides them onely
triumphant Captaines were, is a sufficient
authoritie to shewe the price they ought to bee
held in) then suffer the ill favoured breath of
such wrong speakers once to blow uppon the cleare
springs of Poesie. But sice I have runne so long
a Carrier in this matter, me thinkes before I
give my penne a full stoppe, it shall be but a
little more lost time, to enquire why England the
Mother of excellent mindes should be growne so
hard a stepmother to Poets, who certainely in wit
ought to passe all others, since all onely
proceeds from their wit, beeing indeed makers of
themselves, not takers of others. How can I but
exclaime. Musa mihi causas memoria quo numine
laeso. Sweete Poesie that hath aunciently had
Kings, Emperours, Senatours, great Captaines,
such as besides a thousandes others, David,
Adrian, Sophocles, Germanicus, not onelie to
favour Poets, but to bee Poets: and of our nearer
times, can present for her Patrons, a Robert King
of Scicill, the great King Fraunces of Fraunce,
King James of Scotland; such Cardinalls as Bembus
, and Bibiena; suche famous Preachers and
Teachers, as Beza and Melanchthon; so learned
Philosophers as Fracastorius, and Scaliger; so
great Orators, as Pontanus, and Muretus; so
pearcing wits, as George Buchanan; so grave
Counsailours, as besides manie, but before all,
that Hospitall of Fraunce; then whome I thinke
that Realme never brought forth a more
accomplished Judgement, more firmly builded upon
vertue: I say these with numbers of others, not
onely to read others Poesies, but to poetise for
others reading; that Poesie thus embraced in all
other places, should onely finde in our time a
hard welcome in England. I thinke the verie earth
laments it, and therefore deckes our soyle with
fewer Lawrels then 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 sonnd lowdest. And
now that an over faint quietnesse should seeme to
strowe the house for Poets. They are almost in as
good reputation, as the Mountebanckes at Venice.
Truly even that, as of the one side it giveth
great praise to Poesie, which like Venus (but to
better purpose) had rather be troubled in the net
with Mars, then enjoy the homely quiet of Vulcan.
So serveth it for a peece of a reason, why they
are lesse gratefull to idle England, which now
can scarce endure the paine of a penne. Upon this
necessarily followeth, that base men with evill
wits undertake it, who thinke it inough if they
can be rewarded of the Printer: and so as
Epaminandas is said with the honor of his vertue
to have made an Office, by his execising it,
which before was contemtible, to become highly
respected: so these men no more but setting their
names to it, by their own disgracefulnesse,
disgrace the most gracefull Poesie. For now as if
all the Muses were got with childe, to bring
forth bastard Poets: without any commission, they
do passe over the Bankes of the Helicon, till
they make the Readers more wearie then Post-
horses: while in the meane time, they Queis
meliore luto finxit praecordia Titan, are better
content to suppresse the out- flowings of their
wit, then by publishing them, to be accounted
Knights of the same order. But I that before ever
I durst aspire unto the dignitie, am admitted
into the companie of the Paper-blurrers, do finde
the verie true cause of our wanting estimation,
is want of desert, taking uppon us to be Poets,
in despite of Pallas. Now wherein we want desert,
were a thankwoorthie labour to expresse. But if I
knew I should have mended my selfe, but as I
never desired the title, so have I neglected the
meanes to come by it, onely over-mastered by some
thoughts, I yeelded an inckie tribute unto them.
Marrie they that delight in Poesie it selfe,
should seek to know what they do, and how they do:
and especially looke themselves in an
unflattering glasse of reason, if they be
enclinable unto it. For Poesie must not be drawne
by the eares, it must be gently led, or rather it
must lead, which was partly the cause that made
the auncient learned affirme, it was a divine
gift & no humane skil; since all other
knowledges lie readie for anie that have strength
of wit: A Poet no industrie can make, if his owne
Genius be not carried into it. And therefore is
an old Proverbe, Orator fit, Poeta nascitur. Yet
confesse I alwaies, that as the fertilest ground
must be manured, so must the highest flying wit
have a Dedalus to guide him. That Dedalus they
say both in this and in other, hath three wrings
to beare itself up into the aire of due
commendation: that is Art, Imitation, and
Exercise. But these neither Artificall Rules, nor
imitative paternes, we much comber our selves
withall. Exercise indeed we do, but that verie
fore-backwardly; for where we should exercise to
know, we exercise as having knowne: and so is our
braine delivered of much matter, which never was
begotten by knowledge. For there being two
principall parts, Matter to be expressed by words,
and words to expresse the matter: In neither, wee
use Art or imitation rightly. Our matter is,
Quodlibet, indeed though wrongly performing,
Ovids Verse. Quicquid conabar dicere, Versus erit:
never marshalling it into anie assured ranck,
that almost the Readers cannot tell where to
finde themselves. Chawcer undoubtedly did
excellently in his Troilus and Creseid: of whome
trulie I knowe not whether to mervaile more,
either that hee in that mistie time could see so
clearly, or that wee in this cleare age, goe so
stumblingly after him. Yet had hee great wants,
fit to be forgiven in so reverent an Antiquitie.
I account the Mirrour of Magistrates, meetly
furnished of bewtiful partes. And in the Earle of
Surreis Lirickes, manie thinges tasting of a
Noble birth, and worthie of a Noble minde. The
Sheepheards Kalender, hath much Poetrie in his
Egloges, indeed woothie the reading, if I be not
deceived. That same framing of his style to an
old rusticke language, I dare not allow: since
neither Theocritus in Greeke, Virgill in Latine,
nor Sanazara in Italian, did affect it. Besides
these, I doo not remember to have seene but fewe
(to speake boldly) printed, that have poeticall
sinnewes in them. For proofe whereof, let but
moste of the Verses bee put in prose, and then
aske the meaning, and it will be founde, that one
Verse did but beget an other, without ordering at
the first, what should bee at the last, which
becomes a confused masse of words, with a
tingling sound of ryme, barely accompanied with
reasons. Our Tragidies and Commedies, not without
cause cryed out against, observing rules neither
of honest civilitie, nor skilfull Poetrie.
Excepting Gorboducke, (againe I say of those that
I have seen) which notwithstanding as it is full
of stately speeches, and wel sounding phrases,
clyming to the height of Seneca his style, and as
full of notable morallitie, which it dooth most
delightfully teach, and so obtaine the verie ende
of Poesie. Yet in truth, it is verie defectious
in the circumstaunces, which greeves mee, because
it might not remaine as an exact moddell of all
Tragidies. For it is faultie both in place and
time, the two necessarie Companions of all
corporall actions. For where the Stage should
alway represent but one place, and the uttermoste
time presupposed in it, should bee both by
Aristotles precept, and common reason, but one
day; there is both manie dayes and places,
inartificially imagined. But if it bee so in
Gorboducke, howe much more in all the rest, where you
shall have Asia of the one side, and Affricke of
the other, and so mannie other under Kingdomes,
that the Player when he comes in, must ever begin
with telling where he is, or else the tale will
not be conceived. Now you shall have three
Ladies walke to gather flowers, and then we must
beleeve the stage to be a garden. By and by we
heare newes of shipwrack in the same place, then
we are too blame if we accept it not for a Rock.
Upon the back of that, comes out a hidious
monster with fire and smoke, and then the
miserable beholders are bound to take it for a
Cave: while in the meane time two Armies flie in,
represented with foure swords & bucklers, and
then what hard hart wil not receive it for a
pitched field. Now of time, they are much more
liberall. For ordinarie it is, that two yoong
Princes fall in love, after many traverses she is
got with childe, delivered of a faire boy: he is
lost, groweth a man, falleth in love, and is
readie to get another childe, and all this is in
two houres space: which howe absurd it is in
sence, even sence may imagine: and Arte hath
taught, and all auncient examples justified, and
at this day the ordinarie players in Italie will
not erre in. Yet will some bring in an example of
Eunuche in Terence, that conteineth matter of two
dayes, yet far short of twentie yeares. True it
is, and so was it to be played in two dayes, and
so fitted to the time it set foorth. And though
Plautus have in one place done amisse, let us hit
it with him, & not misse with him. But they
will say, how then shall we set foorth a storie,
which contains both many places, and many times?
And do they not know that a Tragidie is tied to
the lawes of Poesie and not of Historie: not
bounde to follow the storie, but having libertie
either to faine a quite new matter, or to frame
the Historie to the most Tragicall conveniencie.
Againe, many things may be told which cannot be
shewed:if they know the difference betwixt
reporting and representing. As for example, I may
speake though I am here, of Peru, and in speech
digresse from that, to the description of Calecut:
But in action, I cannot represent it without
Pacolets Horse. And so was the manner the
Auncients tooke, by some Nuntius, to recount
things done in former time or other place. Lastly,
if they will represent an Historie, they must not
(as Horace saith) beginne ab ovo but they must
come to the principall poynte of that one action
which they will represent. By example this will
be best expressed. I have a storie of yoong
Polidorus, delivered for safeties sake with great
riches, by his Father Priamus, to Polmimester
King of Thrace, in the Troyan warre time. He
after some yeares, hearing the overthrowe of
Priamus, for to make the treasure his owne,
murthereth the Childe, the bodie of the Childe is
taken up, Hecuba, shee the same day, findeth a
sleight to bee revenged moste cruelly of the
Tyrant. Where nowe would one of our Tragedie
writers begin, but with the deliverie of the
Childe? Then should hee saile over into Thrace,
and so spende I know not how many yeares, and
travaile numbers of places. But where dooth
Euripides? even with the finding of the bodie,
the rest leaving to be told by the spirite of
Polidorus. This needes no futher to bee enlarged,
the dullest witte may conceive it. But besides
these grosse absurdities, howe all their Playes
bee neither right Tragedies, nor right Comedies,
mingling Kinges and Clownes, not because the
matter so carrieth it, but thrust in the Clowne
by head and shoulders to play a part in
majesticall matters, with neither decencie nor
discretion: so as neither the admiration and
Commiseration, nor the the right sportfulnesse is
by their mongrell Tragicomedie obtained. I know
Apuleius did somewhat so, but that is a thing
recounted with space of time, not represented in
one moment: and I knowe the Auncients have one or
two examples of Tragicomedies, as Plautus hath
Amphitrio. But if we marke them well, wee shall
finde that they never or verie daintily matche
horne Pipes and Funeralls. So falleth it out,
that having indeed no right Comedie in that
Comicall part of our Tragidie, wee have nothing
but scurrilitie unwoorthie of anie chaste eares,
or some extreame shewe of doltishnesse, indeede
fit to lift up a loude laughter and nothing else:
where the whole tract of a Comedie should bee
full of delight, as the Tragidie should bee still
maintained in a well raised admiration. But our
Comedients thinke there is no delight without
laughter, which is verie wrong, for though
laughter may come with delight, yet commeth it
not of delight, as though delight should be the
cause of laughter. But well may one thing breed
both togither. Nay rather in themselves, they
have as it were a kinde of contrarietie: For
delight wee scarecly doo, but in thinges that
have a conveniencie to our selves, or to the
generall nature: Laughter almost ever commeth of
thinges moste disproportioned to our selves, and
nature. Delight hath a joy in it either permanent
or present. Laughter hath onely a scornfull
tickling. For example, wee are ravished with
delight to see a faire woman, and yet are farre
from beeing mooved to laughter. Wee laugh at
deformed creatures, wherein certainly wee cannot
delight. We delight in good chaunces, wee laugh
at mischaunces. We delight to heare the
happinesse of our friendes and Countrey, at which
hee were worthie to be laughed at, that would
laugh: we shall contrarily laugh sometimes to
finde a matter quite mistaken, and goe downe the
hill against the byas, in the mouth of some such
men as for the respect of them, one shall be
heartily sorie, he cannot chuse but laugh, and so
is rather pained, then delighted with laughter.
Yet denie I not, but that they may goe well
togither, for as in Alexanders picture well set
out, wee delight without laughter, and in twentie
madde Antiques, wee laugh without delight. So in
Hercules, painted with his great beard and
furious countenaunce, in a womans attyre,
spinning, at Omphales commaundement, it breeds
both delight and laughter: for the representing
of so straunge a power in Love, procures delight,
and the scornefulnesse of the action, stirreth
laughter. But I speake to this purpose, that all
the ende of the Comicall part, bee not uppon
suche scornefull matters as stirre laughter
onelie, but mixe with it, that delightfull
teaching whiche is the ende of Poesie. And the
great faulte even in that poynt of laughter, and
forbidden plainly by Aristotle, is, that they
stirre laughter in sinfull things, which are
rather execrable then ridiculous: or in miserable,
which are rather to be pitied then scorned. For
what is it to make folkes gape at a wretched
begger, and a beggerly Clowne: or against lawe of
hospitalitie, to jeast at straungers, because
they speake not English so well as we do? What
doo we learne, since it is certaine, Nil habet
infoelix paupertas durius in se, Quam quod
ridiculos homines facit. But rather a busie
loving Courtier, and a hartelesse thretning
Thraso, a selfe-wise seeming Schoolemaister, a
wry transformed Traveller: these if we saw walke
in Stage names, which we plaie naturally, therein
were delightfull laughter, and teaching
delightfulnesse; as in the other the Tragedies of
Buchanan do justly bring foorth a divine
admiration. But I have lavished out too many
words of this Play-matter; I do it, because as
they are excelling parts of Poesie, so is there
none so much used in England, and none can be
more pittifully abused: which like an unmannerly
daughter, shewing a bad education, causeth her
mother Poesies honestie to be called in question.
Other sort of Poetrie, almost have we none, but
that Lyricall kind of Songs and Sonets; which
Lord, if he gave us so good mindes, how well it
might be employed, and with how heavenly fruites,
both private and publike, in singing the praises
of the immortall bewtie, the immortall goodnes of
that God, who giveth us hands to write, and wits
to conceive: of which we might wel want words,
but never matter, of which we could turne our
eyes to nothing, but we should ever have new
budding occassions. But truly many of such
writings as come under the banner of unresistable
love, if I were a mistresse, would never perswade
mee they were in love: so coldly they applie
firie speeches, as men that had rather redde
lovers writings, and so caught up certaine
swelling Phrases, which hang togither like a man
that once tolde me the winde was at Northwest and
by South, because he would be sure to name winds
inough, then that in truth they feele those
passions, which easily as I thinke, may be
bewraied by that same forciblenesse or Energia, (as
the Greeks call it of the writer). But let this
be a sufficient, though short note, that we misse
the right use of the material point of Poesie.
Now for the outside of it, which is words, or (as
I may tearme it) Diction, it is even well worse:
so is it that hony-flowing Matrone Eloquence,
apparrelled, or rather disguised, in a
Courtisanlike painted affectation. One time with
so farre fet words, that many seeme monsters, but
must seeme straungers to anie poore Englishman:
an other time with coursing of a letter, as if
they were bound to follow the method of a
Dictionary: an other time with figures and
flowers, extreemely winter-starved. But I would
this fault were onely peculiar to Versefiers, and
had not as large possession among Prose- Printers:
and which is to be mervailed among many Schollers,
& which is to be pitied among some Preachers.
Truly I could wish, if at I might be so bold to
wish, in a thing beyond the reach of my capacity,
the diligent Imitators of Tully & Demosthenes,
most worthie to be imitated, did not so much
keepe Nizolian paper bookes, of their figures and
phrase, as by attentive translation, as it were,
devoure them whole, and make them wholly theirs.
For now they cast Sugar and spice uppon everie
dish that is served to the table: like those
Indians, not content to weare eare-rings at the
fit and naturall place of the eares, but they
will thrust Jewels through their nose and lippes,
because they will be sure to be fine. Tully when
he was to drive out Catiline, as it were with a
thunderbolt of eloquence, often useth the figure
of repitition, as Vivit & vincit, imo in
senatum, Venit imo, in senatum venit, &c.
Indeede enflamed, with a well grounded rage, hee
would have his words (as it were ) double out of
his mouth, and so do that artificially, which we
see men in choller doo naturally. And we having
noted the grace of those words, hale them in
sometimes to a familiar Epistle, when it were too
much choller to be chollericke. How well store of
Similiter Cadenses, doth sound with the gravitie
of the Pulpit, I woulde but invoke Demosthenes
soule to tell: who with a rare daintinesse useth
them. Truly they have made mee thinke of the
Sophister, that with too much subtiltie would
prove two Egges three, and though he might bee
counted a Sophister, had none for his labour. So
these men bringing in such a kind of eloquence,
well may they obtaine an opinion of a seeming
finesse, but perswade few, which should be the
ende of their finesse. Now for similitudes in
certain Printed discourses, I thinke all
Herberists, all stories of beasts, foules, and
fishes, are rifled up, that they may come in
multitudes to wait upon any of our conceits,
which certainly is as absurd a surfet to the
eares as is possible. For the force of a
similitude not being to prove any thing to a
contrary disputer, but onely to explain to a
willing hearer, when that is done, the rest is a
most tedious pratling, rather overswaying the
memorie from the purpose whereto they were
applied, then anie whit enforming the judgement
alreadie either satisfied, or by similitudes not
to be satisfied. For my part, I doo 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
plaine sensiblenesse, they might winne credit of
popular eares, which credit, is the nearest
steppe to perswasion, which perswasion, is the
chiefe marke of Oratorie) I do not doubt I say,
but that they used these knacks verie sparingly,
which who doth generally use, any man may see
doth dance to his own musick, 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 smal learned
Courtiers, a more sound stile, then in some
professors of learning, of which I can gesse 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, thogh not by art (as in these cases he shuld
do) flieth from nature, & indeed abuseth art.
But what? methinks, I deserve to be pounded for
straying from Poetrie, to Oratory: but both have
such an affinitie in the wordish consideration,
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 my selfe sicke among the rest,
to shew some one or two spots of the common
infection growne among the most part of writers;
that acknowledging our selves somewhat awry, wee
may bende 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. I knowe 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 Grammer. Nay truly it hath that
praise that it wants not Grammar; for Grammer it
might have, but it needs it not, being so easie
in it selfe, and so voyd of those combersome
differences of Cases, Genders, Moods, &
Tenses, which I thinke was a peece of the Tower
of Babilons curse, that a man should be put to
schoole to learn his mother tongue. But for the
uttering sweetly and properly the conceit of the
minde, which is the end of speech, that hath it
equally with any other tongue in the world. And
is perticularly happy in compositions of two or
three wordes togither, neare the Greeke, farre
beyonde the Latine, which is one of the greatest
bewties can be in a language. Now of versefying,
there are two sorts, the one auncient, the other
moderne. The auncient marked the quantitie of
each sillable, and according to that, framed his
verse: The moderne, observing onely number, with
some regard of the accent; the chiefe life of it,
standeth in that like sounding of the words,
which we call Rime. Whether of these be the more
excellent, wold bear many speeches, the ancient
no doubt more fit for Musicke, both words and
time observing quantitie, and more fit, lively to
expresse divers passions by the low or loftie
sound of the well-wayed sillable. The latter
likewise with his rime striketh a certaine
Musicke to the ear: and in fine, since it dooth
delight, though by an other way, it obtaineth the
same purpose, there being in either sweetnesse,
and wanting in neither, majestie. Truly the
English before any Vulgare language, I know is
fit for both sorts: for, for the auncient, the
Italian is so full of Vowels, that it must ever
be combred with Elisions. The Duch so of the
other side with Consonants, that they cannot
yeeld the sweete slyding, fit for a Verse. The
French in his whole language, hath not one word
that hath his accent in the last sillable, saving
two, called Antepenultima; and little more hath
the Spanish, and therefore verie gracelessly may
they use Dactiles. The English is subject to none
of these defects. Now for Rime, though we doo not
observe quan[ti]tie, yet we observe the Accent
verie precisely, which other languages either
cannot do, or will not do so absolutely. That
Caesura, or breathing place in the midst of the
Verse, neither Italian nor Spanish have: the
French and we, never almost faile off. Lastly,
even the verie Rime it selfe, the Italian cannot
put it in the last sillable, by the French named
the Masculine Rime; but still in the next to the
last, which the French call the Female; or the
next before that, which the Italian 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 Du, Trew, Father, Rather, Motion,
Potion, with much more which might be sayd, but
that alreadie I finde the triflings of this
discourse is much too much enlarged. So that
since the ever-praise woorthie Poesie is full of
vertue breeding delightfulnesse, and voyd of no
gift that ought to be in the noble name of
learning, since the blames layd 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 Poesie, and to bee honoured by
Poesie, I conjure you all that have had the evill
luck to read this inck-wasting toy of mine, even
in the name of the nine Muses, no more to scorne
the sacred misteries of Poesie. No more to laugh
at the name of Poets, as though they were next
inheritors to fooles; no more to jest at the
reverent title of a Rimer, but to beleeve with
Aristotle, that they were the auncient Treasurers
of the Grecians divinitie; to beleeve with Bembus,
that they were the first bringers in of all
Civilitie; to beleeve with Scalliger that no
Philosophers precepts can sooner make you an
honest man, then the reading of Virgil; to
beleeve with Clauserus, the Translator of
Cornatus, that it pleased the heavenly deitie by
Hesiod and Homer, under the vaile of Fables to
give us all knowledge, Logicke, Rhetoricke,
Philosophie, naturall and morall, and Quid non?
to beleeve with me, that there are many misteries
contained in Poetrie, which of purpose were
written darkly, least by prophane wits it should
be abused: To beleeve with Landin, that they are
so beloved of the Gods, that whatsoever they
write, proceeds of a divine furie. Lastly, to
beleeve themselves when they tell you they will
make you immortal by their verses. Thus doing,
your name shall florish in the Printers shops.
Thus doing you shalbe of kin to many a Poeticall
Preface. Thus doing, you shal be most faire, most
rich, most wise, most all: you shall dwel upon
Superlatives. Thus doing, though you be Libertino
patre natus, you shall sodeinly grow Herculea
proles. Si quid mea Carmina possunt. Thus doing,
your soule shall be placed with Dantes Beatrix,
or Virgils Anchises. But if (fie of such a but)
you bee borne so neare the dull-making Cataract
of Nilus, that you cannot heare the Planet-like
Musicke of Poetrie; if you have so earth-
creeping a mind that it cannot lift it selfe up
to looke to the skie of Poetrie, or rather by a
certaine rusticall disdaine, wil become such a
mome, as to bee a Momus of Poetrie: then though I
will not wish unto you the Asses eares of Midas,
nor to be driven by a Poets verses as Bubonax was,
to hang himselfe, nor to be rimed to death as is
said to be done in Ireland, yet thus much Curse I
must send you in the behalfe of all Poets, that
while you live, you live in love, and never get
favour, for lacking skill of a Sonet, and
when you die, your memorie die from the earth for
want of an Epitaphe. |
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