An apologie for poetrie. VVritten by the right noble, vertuous, and learned, Sir Phillip Sidney, Knight

An Apologie for POETRIE.

WHen the right vertuous Edward VVotton, & I, were at the Emperors Court to∣gether, wee gaue our selues to learne horsemanship of Iohn Pietro Pugliano: one that with great commenda∣tion had the place of an Esquire in his stable. And hee, according to the fertilnes of the Italian wit, did not onely afoord vs the demonstration of his practise, but sought to enrich our mindes with the contemplations therein, which hee thought most precious. But with none I remember mine eares were at any time more loden, then when (either angred with slowe paiment, or mooued with our learner-like admiration,) he exercised his speech in the prayse of his facultie. Hee sayd, Souldiours were the noblest estate of mankinde,

and horsemen, the noblest of Souldiours. Hee sayde, they were the Maisters of warre, and or∣naments of peace: speedy goers, and strong abi∣ders, triumphers both in Camps & Courts. Nay, to so vnbeleeued a poynt hee proceeded, as that no earthly thing bred such wonder to a Prince, as to be a good horseman. Skill of gouernment, was but a Pedanteria in comparison: thē would hee adde certaine prayses, by telling what a peer∣lesse beast a horse was. The onely seruiceable Courtier without flattery, the beast of most beu∣tie, faithfulnes, courage, and such more, that if I had not beene a peece of a Logician before I came to him, I think he would haue perswaded mee to haue wished my selfe a horse. But thus much at least with his no fewe words hee draue into me, that selfe-loue is better then any guild∣ing to make that seeme gorgious, wherein our selues are parties. VVherin, if Pugliano his strong affection and weake arguments will not satisfie you, I wil giue you a neerer example of my selfe, who (I knowe not by what mischance) in these my not old yeres & idelest times, hauing slipt into the title of a Poet, am prouoked to say somthing vnto you in the defence of that my vnelected vo∣cation, which if I handle with more good will then good reasons, beare with me, sith the schol∣ler is to be pardoned that foloweth the steppes of his Maister. And yet I must say, that as I haue iust cause to make a pittiful defence of poore Po∣etry,

which from almost the highest estimation of learning, is fallen to be the laughingstocke of children. So haue I need to bring some more a∣uaileable proofes: sith the former is by no man barred of his deserued credite, the silly latter hath had euen the names of Philosophers vsed to the defacing of it, with great danger of ciuill war a∣mōg the Muses. And first, truly to al thē that pro∣fessing learning inueigh against Poetry, may iust∣ly be obiected, that they goe very neer to vngrat∣fulnes, to seek to deface that, which in the noblest nations & languages that are knowne, hath been the first light-giuer to ignorance, and first Nurse, whose milk by little & little enabled them to feed afterwards of tougher knowledges: & will they now play the Hedghog, that being receiued into the den, draue out his host? or rather the Vipers, that with theyr birth kill their Parents? Let lear∣ned Greece in any of her manifold Sciences, be able to shew me one booke, before Musaeus, Ho∣mer, & Hesiodus, all three nothing els but Poets. Nay, let any historie be brought, that can say any VVriters were there before thē, if they were not men of the same skil, as Orpheus, Linus, and some other are named: who hauing beene the first of that Country, that made pens deliuerers of their knowledge to their posterity, may iustly cha∣lenge to bee called their Fathers in learning: for not only in time they had this priority (although in it self antiquity be venerable,) but went before

them, as causes to drawe with their charming sweetnes, the wild vntamed wits to an admirati∣on of knowledge. So as Amphion was sayde to moue stones with his Poetrie, to build Thebes. And Orpheus to be listened to by beastes, indeed, stony and beastly people. So among the Romans were Liuius, 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, Boccace, and Petrarch. So in our English were Gower and Chawcer.

After whom, encouraged and delighted with theyr excellent fore-going, others haue follow∣ed, to beautifie our mother tongue, as wel in the same kinde as in other Arts. This did so notably shewe it selfe, that the Phylosophers of Greece, durst not a long time appeare to the worlde but vnder the masks of Poets. So Thales, Empedo∣cles, and Parmenides, sange their naturall Phylo∣sophie in verses: so did Pythagoras and Phocilides their morral counsells: so did Tirteus in war mat∣ters, & Solon in matters of policie: or rather, they beeing Poets, dyd exercise their delightful vaine in those points of highest knowledge, which be∣fore them lay hid to the world. For that wise So∣lon was directly a Poet, it is manifest, hauing written in verse, the notable fable of the Atlan∣tick Iland, which was continued by Plato.

And truely, euen Plato, whosoeuer well con∣sidereth, shall find, that in the body of his work,

though the inside & strength were Philosophy, the skinne as it were & beautie, depended most of Poetrie: for all standeth vpon Dialogues, wherein he faineth many honest Burgesses of A∣thens to speake of such matters, that if they had been sette on the racke, they would neuer haue confessed them. Besides, his poetical describing the circumstances of their meetings, as the well ordering of a banquet, the delicacie of a walke, with enterlacing meere tales, as Giges Ring, and others, which who knoweth not to be flowers of Poetrie, did neuer walke into Apollos Garden.

And euen Historiographers, (although theyr lippes sounde of things doone, & veritie be writ∣ten in theyr fore-heads,) haue been glad to bor∣row both fashion, and perchance weight of Po∣ets. So Herodotus entituled his Historie, by the name of the nine Muses: and both he and all the rest that followed him, either stole or vsurped of Poetrie, their passionate describing of passions, the many particularities of battailes, which no man could affirme: or if that be denied me, long Orations put in the mouthes of great Kings and Captaines, which it is certaine they neuer pro∣nounced. So that truely, neyther Phylosopher nor Historiographer, coulde at the first haue en∣tred into the gates of populer iudgements, if they had not taken a great pasport of Poetry, which in all Nations at this day wher learning florisheth not, is plaine to be seene: in all which they haue

some feeling of Poetry. In Turky, besides their lawe-giuing Diuines, they haue no other VVri∣ters but Poets. In our neighbour Countrey Ire∣land, where truelie learning goeth very bare, yet are theyr Poets held in a deuoute reuerence. E∣uen among the most barbarous and simple Indi∣ans where no writing is, yet haue they their Po∣ets, who make and sing songs which they call A∣reytos, both of theyr Auncestors deedes, & praises of theyr Gods. A sufficient probabilitie, that if e∣uer learning come among thē, it must be by ha∣uing theyr hard dull wits softned and sharpened with the sweete delights of Poetrie. For vntill they find a pleasure in the exercises of the minde, great promises of much knowledge, will little perswade them, that knowe not the fruites of knowledge. In VVales, the true remnant of the auncient Brittons, as there are good autho∣rities to shewe the long time they had Poets, which they called Bardes: so thorough all the conquests of Romaines, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, some of whom did seeke to ruine all memory of learning from among them, yet doo their Poets euen to this day, last; so as it is not more notable in soone beginning then in long continuing. But since the Authors of most of our Sciences were the Romans, and before them the Greekes, let vs a little stand vppon their authori∣ties, but euen so farre as to see, what names they haue giuen vnto this now scorned skill.

Among the Romans a Poet was called Vates, which is as much as a Diuiner, Fore-seer, or Pro∣phet, as by his conioyned wordes Vaticinium & Vaticinari, is manifest: so heauenly a title did that excellent people bestow vpō this hart-rauishing knowledge. And so farre were they carried in∣to the admiration thereof, that they thought in the chaunceable hitting vppon any such verses, great fore-tokens of their following fortunes were placed. VVhereupon grew the worde of Sortes Virgilianae, when by suddaine opening Vir∣gils booke, they lighted vpon any verse of hys making, whereof the histories of the Emperors liues are full: as of Albinus the Gouernour of our Iland, who in his childe-hoode mette with this verse,

Arma amens capio nec sat rationis in armis.

And in his age performed it, which although it were a very vaine, and godles superstition, as also it was to think that spirits were commaunded by such verses, whereupon this word charmes, deri∣ued of Carmina commeth, so yet serueth it to shew the great reuerence those wits were helde in. And altogether not without ground, since both the Oracles of Delphos and Sibillas prophe∣cies, were wholy deliuered in verses. For that same exquisite obseruing of number and measure in words, and that high flying liberty of conceit proper to the Poet, did seeme to haue some dy∣uine force in it.

And may not I presume a little further, to shew the reasonablenes of this worde Vates? And say that the holy Dauids Psalmes are a diuine Poem? If I doo, I shall not do it without the testimonie of great learned men, both auncient & moderne: but euen the name Psalmes will speake for mee, which being interpreted, is nothing but songes. Then that it is fully written in meeter, as all lear∣ned Hebricians agree, although the rules be not yet fully found. Lastly & principally, his hande∣ling his prophecy, which is meerely poetical. For what els is the awaking his musicall instruments? The often and free changing of persons? His no∣table Prosopopeias, whē he maketh you as it were, see God comming in his Maiestie. His telling of the Beasts ioyfulnes, and hills leaping, but a hea∣uenlie poesie: wherein almost hee sheweth him∣selfe a passionate louer, of that vnspeakable and euerlasting beautie to be seene by the eyes of the minde, onely cleered by fayth. But truely nowe hauing named him, I feare mee I seeme to pro∣phane that holy name, applying it to Poetrie, which is among vs throwne downe to so ridicu∣lous an estimation: but they that with quiet iudgements will looke a little deeper into it, shall finde the end and working of it such, as beeing rightly applyed, deserueth not to bee scourged out of the Church of God.

But now, let vs see how the Greekes named it, and howe they deemed of it. The Greekes

called him a Poet, which name, hath as the most excellent, gone thorough other Languages. It cōmeth of this word Poiein, which is, to make: wherein I know not, whether by lucke or wise∣dome, wee Englishmen haue mette with the Greekes, in calling him a maker: which name, how high and incomparable a title it is, I had ra∣ther were knowne by marking the scope of o∣ther Sciences, then by my partiall allegation.

There is no Arte deliuered to mankinde, that hath not the workes of Nature for his principall obiect, without which they could not consist, & on which they so depend, as they become Actors and Players as it were, of what Nature will haue set foorth. So doth the Astronomer looke vpon the starres, and by that hee seeth, setteth downe what order Nature hath taken therein. So doe the Geometrician, & Arithmetician, in their di∣uerse sorts of quantities. So doth the Musitian in times, tel you which by nature agree, which not. The naturall Philosopher theron hath his name, and the Morrall Philosopher standeth vpon the naturall vertues, vices, and passions of man; and followe Nature (saith hee) therein, & thou shalt not erre. The Lawyer sayth what men haue de∣termined. The Historian what men haue done. The Grammarian speaketh onely of the rules of speech, and the Rethorician, and Logitian, con∣sidering what in Nature will soonest proue and perswade, thereon giue artificial rules, which still

are compassed within the circle of a question, ac∣cording to the proposed matter. The Phisition waigheth the nature of a mans bodie, and the na∣ture of things helpeful, or hurtefull vnto it. And the Metaphisick, though it be in the seconde and abstract notions, and therefore be counted super∣naturall: yet doth hee indeede builde vpon the depth of Nature: onely the Poet, disdayning to be tied to any such subiection, lifted vp with the vigor of his owne inuention, dooth growe in ef∣fect, another nature, in making things either bet∣ter then Nature bringeth forth, or quite a newe formes such as neuer were in Nature, as the He∣roes, Demigods, Cyclops, Chimeras, Furies, & such like: so as hee goeth hand in hand with Nature, not inclosed within the narrow warrant of her guifts, but freely ranging onely within the Zo∣diack of his owne wit.

Nature neuer set forth the earth in so rich tapi∣stry, as diuers Poets haue done, neither with ple∣sant riuers, fruitful trees, sweet smelling flowers: nor whatsoeuer els may make the too much lo∣ued earth more louely. Her world is brasen, the Poets only deliuer a golden: but let those things alone and goe to man, for whom as the other things are, so it seemeth in him her vttermost cunning is imployed, and knowe whether shee haue brought foorth so true a louer as Theagines, so constant a friende as Pilades, so valiant a man as Orlando, so right a Prince as Xenophons Cyrus: so

excellent a man euery way, as Virgils Aeneas: nei∣ther let this be iestingly conceiued, because the works of the one be essentiall: the other, in imi∣tation or fiction: for any vnderstanding know∣eth the skil of the Artificer, standeth in that Idea or fore-conceite of the work, & not in the work it selfe. And that the Poet hath that Idea, is ma∣nifest, by deliuering them forth in such excellen∣cie as hee hath imagined them. VVhich deliue∣ring forth also, is not wholie imaginatiue, as we are wont to say by them that build Castles in the ayre: but so farre substantially it worketh, not onely to make a Cyrus, which had been but a par∣ticuler excellencie, as Nature might haue done, but to bestow a Cyrus vpon the worlde, to make many Cyrus's, if they wil learne aright, why, and how that Maker made him.

Neyther let it be deemed too sawcie a com∣parison to ballance the highest poynt of mans wit with the efficacie of Nature: but rather giue right honor to the heauenly Maker of that ma∣ker: who hauing made man to his owne likenes, set him beyond & ouer all the workes of that se∣cond nature, which in nothing hee sheweth so much as in Poetrie: when with the force of a di∣uine breath, he bringeth things forth far surpas∣sing her dooings, with no small argument to the incredulous of that first accursed fall of Adam: sith our erected wit, maketh vs know what per∣fection is, and yet our infected will, keepeth vs

from reaching vnto it. But these arguments wil by fewe be vnderstood, and by fewer granted. Thus much (I hope) will be giuen me, that the Greekes with some probabilitie of reason, gaue him the name aboue all names of learning. Now let vs goe to a more ordinary opening of him, that the trueth may be more palpable: and so I hope, though we get not so vnmatched a praise as the Etimologie of his names will grant, yet his very description, which no man will denie, shall not iustly be barred from a principall commen∣dation.

Poesie therefore is an arte of imitation, for so Aristotle termeth it in this word Mimesis, that is to say, a representing, counterfetting, or figuring foorth: to speake metaphorically, a speaking pic∣ture: with this end, to teach and delight; of this haue beene three seuerall kindes. The chiefe both in antiquitie & excellencie, were they that did imitate the inconceiuable excellencies of GOD. Such were, Dauid in his Psalmes, Salo∣mon in his song of Songs, in his Ecclesiastes, and Prouerbs: Moses and Debora in theyr Hymnes, and the writer of Iob; which beside other, the learned Emanuell Tremelius, & Franciscus Ianius, doe entitle the poeticall part of the Scripture. A∣gainst these none will speake that hath the holie Ghost in due holy reuerence.

In this kinde, though in a full wrong diuini∣tie, were Orpheus, Amphion, Homer in his hymnes,

and many other, both Greekes and Romaines: and this Poesie must be vsed, by whosoeuer will follow S. Iames his counsell, in singing Psalmes when they are merry: and I knowe is vsed with the fruite of comfort by some, when in sorrow∣full pangs of their death-bringing sinnes, they find the consolation of the neuer-leauing good∣nesse.

The second kinde, is of them that deale with matters Philosophicall; eyther morrall, as Tirte∣us, Phocilides, and Cato, or naturall, as Lucretius, and Virgils Georgicks: or Astronomicall, as Ma∣nilius, & Pontanus: or historical, as Lucan: which who mislike, the faulte is in their iudgements quite out of taste, and not in the sweet foode of sweetly vttered knowledge. But because thys second sorte is wrapped within the folde of the proposed subiect, and takes not the course of his owne inuention, whether they properly be Po∣ets or no, let Gramarians dispute: and goe to the thyrd, indeed right Poets, of whom chiefly this question ariseth; betwixt whom, & these second is such a kinde of difference as betwixt the mea∣ner sort of Painters, (who counterfet onely such. faces as are sette before them;) and the more ex∣cellent: who hauing no law but wit, bestow that in cullours vpon you which is fittest for the eye to see: as the constant, though lamenting looke of Lucrecia, when she punished in her selfe an o∣thers fault.

VVherein he painteth not Lucrecia whom he neuer sawe, but painteth the outwarde beauty of such a vertue: for these third be they which most properly do imitate to teach and delight, and to imitate, borrow nothing of what is, hath been, or shall be: but range onely rayned with learned discretion, into the diuine consideration of what may be, and should be. These bee they, that as the first and most noble sorte, may iustly bee ter∣med Vates, so these are waited on in the excellenst languages and best vnderstandings, with the fore described name of Poets: for these indeede doo meerely make to imitate: and imitate both to de∣light & teach: and delight to moue men to take that goodnes in hande, which without delight they would flye as from a stranger. And teach, to make them know that goodnes whereunto they are mooued, which being the noblest scope to which euer any learning was directed, yet want there not idle tongues to barke at them. These be subdiuided into sundry more speciall denomi∣nations. The most notable bee the Heroick, Li∣rick, Tragick, Comick, Satirick, Iambick, Elegi∣ack, pastorall, and certaine others. Some of these being deemed (according to the matter they deale with, some by the sorts of verses they liked best to write in, for indeede the greatest part of Poets haue apparelled their poeticall inuentions in that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 kinde of writing which is cal∣led verse: indeed but apparelled, verse being but

an ornament and no cause to Poetry: sith there haue beene many most excellent Poets, that ne∣uer versified, and nowe swarme many versifiers that neede neuer aunswere to the name of Poets. For Xenophon, who did imitate so excellently, as to giue vs effigiem iusti imperij, the portraiture of a iust Empire vnder the name of Cyrus, (as Cicero sayth of him) made therein an absolute heroicall Poem.

So did Heliodorus in his sugred inuention of that picture of loue in Theagines and Cariclea, and yet both these writ in Prose: which I speak to shew, that it is not riming and versing that ma∣keth a Poet, no more then a long gowne maketh an Aduocate: who though he pleaded in armor fhould be an Aduocate and no Souldier. But it is that fayning notable images of vertues, vices, or what els, with that delightfull teaching which must be the right describing note to know a Po∣et by: although indeed the Senate of Poets hath chosen verse as their fittest rayment, meaning, as in matter they passed all in all, so in maner to goe beyond them: not speaking (table talke fashion, or like men in a dreame,) words as they chance∣ably fall from the mouth, but peyzing each silla∣ble of each worde by iust proportion according to the dignitie of the subiect.

Nowe therefore it shall not bee amisse first to waigh this latter sort of Poetrie by his works, & then by his partes; and if in neyther of these A∣natomies

hee be condemnable, I hope wee shall obtaine a more fauourable sentence. This purifi∣ing of wit, this enritching of memory, enabling of iudgment, and enlarging of conceyt, which cōmonly we call learning, vnder what name soe∣uer it comforth, or to what immediat end soeuer it be directed, the final end is, to lead & draw vs to as high a perfection, as our degenerate soules made worse by theyr clayey lodgings, can be ca∣pable of. This according to the inclination of the man, bred many formed impressions, for some that thought this fellcity principally to be gotten by knowledge, and no knowledge to be so high and heauenly, as acquaintance with the starres, gaue themselues to Astronomie; others, perswa∣ding themselues to be Demi-gods if they knewe the causes of things, became naturall and super∣naturall Philosophers, some an admirable delight drew to Musicke: and some, the certainty of demonstration, to the Mathematickes. But all, one, and other, hauing this scope to knowe, and by knowledge to lift vp the mind from the dun∣geon of the body, to the enioying his owne di∣uine essence. But when by the ballance of expe∣rience it was found, that the Astronomer loo∣king to the starres might fall into a ditch, that the enquiring Philosopher might be blinde in him∣selfe, and the Mathematician might draw foorth a straight line with a crooked hart: then loe, did proofe the ouer ruler of opinions, make manifest,

that all these are but seruing Sciences, which as they haue each a priuate end in themselues, so yet are they all directed to the highest end of the mi∣stres Knowledge, by the Greekes called Arkiteck∣tonike, which stands, (as I thinke) in the know∣ledge of a mans selfe, in the Ethicke and politick consideration, with the end of well dooing and not of well knowing onely; euen as the Sadlers next end is to make a good saddle: but his farther end, to serue a nobler facultie, which is horse∣manship, so the horsemans to souldiery, and the Souldier not onely to haue the skill, but to per∣forme the practise of a Souldier: so that the en∣ding end of all earthly learning, being vertuous action, those skilles that most serue to bring forth that, haue a most iust title to bee Princes ouer all the rest: wherein if wee can shewe the Poets no∣blenes, by setting him before his other Competi∣tors, among whom as principall challengers step forth the morrall Philosophers, whom me thin∣keth, I see comming towards mee with a sullen grauity, as though they could not abide vice by day light, rudely clothed for to witnes outward∣ly their cōtempt of outward things, with bookes in their hands agaynst glory, whereto they sette theyr names, sophistically speaking against subti∣lity, and angry with any man in whom they see the foule fault of anger; these men casting larges as they goe, of Definitions, Diuisions, and Di∣stinctions, with a scornefull interogatiue, doe so∣berly

aske, whether it bee possible to finde any path, so ready to leade a man to vertue, as that which teacheth what vertue is? and teacheth it not onely by deliuering forth his very being, his causes, and effects: but also, by making known his enemie vice, which must be destroyed, and his combersome seruant Passion, which must be maistered, by shewing the generalities that con∣tayneth it, and the specialities that are deriued from it. Lastly, by playne setting downe, how it extendeth it selfe out of the limits of a mans own little world, to the gouernment of families, and maintayning of publique societies.

The Historian, scarcely giueth leysure to the Moralist, to say so much, but that he loden with old Mouse-eaten records, authorising himselfe (for the most part) vpon other histories, whose greatest authorities, are built vpon the notable foundation of Heare-say, hauing much a-doe to accord differing VVriters, and to pick trueth out of partiality, better acquainted with a thousande yeeres a goe, then with the present age: and yet better knowing how this world goeth, thē how his owne wit runneth; curious for antiquities, and inquisitiue of nouelties, a wonder to young folkes, and a tyrant in table talke, denieth in a great chafe, that any man for teaching of vertue, and vertuous actions, is comparable to him. I am Lux vitae, Temporum magistra, Vita memoriae, Nuncia vetusiatis. &c.

The Phylosopher (sayth hee) teacheth a dis∣putatiue vertue, but I doe an actiue: his vertue is excellent in the dangerlesse Academie of Pla∣to, but mine sheweth foorth her honorable face, in the battailes of Marathon, Pharsalia, Poitiers, and Agincourt. Hee teacheth vertue by certaine abstract considerations, but I onely bid you fol∣low the footing of them that haue gone before you. Olde-aged experience, goeth beyond the fine-witted Phylosopher, but I giue the experi∣ence of many ages. Lastly, if he make the Song∣booke, I put the learners hand to the Lute: and if hee be the guide, I am the light.

Then woulde hee alledge you innumera∣ble examples, conferring storie by storie, how much the wisest Senatours and Princes, haue beene directed by the credite of history, as Bru∣tus, Alphonsus of Aragon, and who not, if neede bee? At length, the long lyne of theyr disputa∣tion maketh a poynt in thys, that the one giueth the precept, and the other the example.

Nowe, whom shall wee finde (sith the que∣stion standeth for the highest forme in the Schoole of learning,) to bee Moderator? Tru∣lie, as mee seemeth, the Poet; and if not a Mo∣derator, euen the man that ought to carrie the title from them both, and much more from all other seruing Sciences. Therefore compare we the Poet with the Historian, and with the Mor∣rall Phylosopher; and, if hee goe beyond them

both, no other humaine skill can match him. For as for the Diuine, with all reuerence it is euer to be excepted, not only for hauing his scope as far beyonde any of these, as eternitie exceedeth a moment, but euen for passing each of these in themselues.

And for the Lawyer, though Ius bee the Daughter of Iustice, and Iustice the chiefe of Vertues, yet because hee seeketh to make men good, rather Formidine paenae, then Virtutis amore, or to say righter, dooth not indeuour to make men good, but that their euill hurt not others: hauing no care so hee be a good Cittizen, how bad a man he be. Therefore, as our wickednesse maketh him necessarie, & necessitie maketh him honorable, so is hee not in the deepest trueth to stande in rancke with these; who all indeuour to take naughtines away, and plant goodnesse euen in the secretest cabinet of our soules. And these foure are all, that any way deale in that cō∣sideration of mens manners, which beeing the supreme knowledge, they that best breed it, de∣serue the best commendation.

The Philosopher therfore and the Historian, are they which would win the gole: the one by precept, the other by example. But both not ha∣uing both, doe both halte. For the Philosopher, setting downe with thorny argument the bare rule, is so hard of vtterance, and so mistie to bee conceiued, that one that hath no other guide but

him, shall wade in him till hee be olde, before he shall finde sufficient cause to bee honest: for his knowledge standeth so vpon the abstract and generall, that happie is that man who may vnder∣stande him, and more happie, that can applye what hee dooth vnderstand.

On the other side, the Historian wanting the precept, is so tyed, not to what shoulde bee, but to what is, to the particuler truth of things, and not to the generall reason of things, that hys example draweth no necessary consequence, and therefore a lesse fruitelesse doctrine.

Nowe dooth the peerelesse Poet performe both: for whatsoeuer the Philosopher sayth shoulde be doone, hee giueth a perfect picture of it in some one, by whom hee presupposeth it was doone. So as hee 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 Phi∣losopher bestoweth but a woordish descripti∣on: vvhich dooth neyther strike, pierce, nor possesse the sight of the soule, so much as that o∣ther dooth.

For as in outward things, to a man that had neuer seene an Elephant or a Rinoceros, who should tell him most exquisitely all theyr shapes, cullour bignesse, and perticular markes: or of a gorgeous Pallace, the Architecture, with decla∣ring the full beauties, might well make the hea∣rer

able to repeate as it were by rote, all hee had heard, yet should neuer satisfie his inward con∣ceits, with being witnes to it selfe of a true liuely knowledge: but the same man, as soone as hee might see those beasts well painted, or the house wel in moddel, should straightwaies grow with∣out need of any discription, to a iudiciall cōpre∣hending of them, so no doubt the Philosopher with his learned definition, bee it of vertue, vi∣ces; matters of publick policie, or priuat gouern∣ment, replenisheth the memory with many in∣fallible grounds of wisdom: which notwithstan∣ding, lye darke before the imaginatiue and iudg∣ing powre, if they bee not illuminated or figured foorth by the speaking picture of Poesie.

Tuslie taketh much paynes and many times not without poeticall helpes, to make vs knowe the force loue of our Countrey hath in vs. Let vs but heare old Anahises speaking in the middest of Troyes flames, or see Vlisses in the fulnes of all Calipso's delights, bewayle his absence from bat∣raine and beggerly Ithaca. Anger the Stoicks say, was a short maddesse, let but Sophocles bring you Aiax on a stage, killing and whipping Sheepe & Oxen, thinking them the Army of Greeks, with theyr Chieftaines Agamemnon and Menelaus, and tell me if you haue not a more familiar in∣sight into anger, then finding in the Schoolemen his Genius and difference. See whether wisdome and temperance in Vlisses and Diomedes, valure

Achilles, friendship in Nisus, and Eurialus, euen to an ignoraunt man, carry not an apparent shy∣ning: and contrarily, the remorse of conscience in Oedipus, the soone repenting pride in Agamem∣non, the selfe-deuouring crueltie in his Father A∣treus, the violence of ambition in the two The∣ban brothers, the sowre-sweetnes of reuenge in Medaea, and to fall lower, the Terentian Gnato, and our Chaucers Pandar, so exprest, that we nowe vse their names to signifie their trades. And final∣ly, all vertues, vices, and passions, so in their own naturall seates layd to the viewe, that wee seeme not to heare of them, but cleerely to see through them. But euen in the most excellent determina∣tion of goodnes, what Philosophers counsell can so redily direct a Prince, as the fayned Cyrus in Xenophon? or a vertuous man in all fortunes, as Aeneas in Virgill? or a whole Cōmon-wealth, as the way of Sir Thomas Moores 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 perfourmed it: for the question is, whether the fayned image of Poesie, or the re∣gular instruction of Philosophy, hath the more force in teaching: wherein if the Philosophers haue more rightly shewed themselues Philoso∣phers, then the Poets haue obtained to the high top of their profession, as in truth,

—Mediocribus esse poetis, Non Dij, non homines, non concessere Columnae:

It is I say againe, not the fault of the Art, but that by fewe men that Arte can bee accompli∣shed.

Certainly, euen our Sauiour Christ could as well haue giuen, the morrall common places of vncharitablenes and humblenes, as the diuine narration of Diues and Lazarus: or of disobedi∣ence and mercy, as that heauenly discourse of the lost Child and the gratious Father; but that hys through-searching wisdom, knewe the estate of Diues burning in hell, and of Lazarus being in A∣brahams bosome, would more constantly (as it were,) inhabit both the memory and iudgment. Truly, for my selfe, mee seemes I see before my eyes the lost Childes disdainefull prodigality, tur∣ned to enuie a Swines dinner: which by the lear∣ned Diuines, are thought not historicall acts, but instructing Parables. For conclusion, I say the Philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth obscure∣ly, so as the learned onely can vnderstande him: that is to say, he teacheth them that are already taught, but the Poet is the foode for the tende∣rest stomacks, the Poet is indeed the right Popu∣lar Philosopher, whereof Esops tales giue good proofe: whose pretty Allegories, stealing vnder the formall tales of Beastes, make many, more beastly then Beasts, begin to heare the sound of vertue from these dumbe speakers.

But now may it be alledged, that if this ima∣gining of matters be so fitte for the imagination, then must the Historian needs surpasse, who bringeth you images of true matters, such as in∣deede were doone, and not such as fantastically or falsely may be suggested to haue been doone. Truely Aristotle himselfe in his discourse of Poe∣sie, plainely determineth this question, saying, that Poetry is Philosophoteron, and Spoudaioteron, that is to say, it is more Philosophicall, and more studiously serious, thē history. His reason is, be∣cause Poesie dealeth with Katholou, that is to say, with the vniuersall consideration; and the histo∣ry with Kathekaston, the perticuler; nowe sayth he, the vniuersall wayes what is fit to bee sayd or done, eyther in likelihood or necessity, (which the Poesie cōsidereth in his imposed names,) & the perticuler, onely marke, whether Alcibia∣des did, or suffered, this or that. Thus farre Ari∣stotle: which reason of his, (as all his) is most full of reason. For indeed, if the question were whe∣ther it were better to haue a perticular acte truly or falsly set down: there is no doubt which is to be chosen, no more thē whether you had rather haue Vespasians picture right as hee was, or at the Painters pleasure nothing resembling. But if the question be for your owne vse & learning, whe∣ther it be better to haue it set downe as it should be, or as it was: then certainely is more doctri∣nable the fained Cirus in Xenophon then the true

Cyrus in Iustine: and the fayned Aeneas in Virgil, then the right Aeneas in Dares Phrigius.

As to a Lady that desired to fashion her coun∣tenance to the best grace, a Painter should more benefite her to portraite a most sweet face, wry∣ting Canidia vpon it, then to paynt Canidia as she was, who Horace sweareth, was foule and ill fa∣uoured.

If the Poet doe his part a-right, he will shew you in Tantalus, Atreus, and such like, nothing that is not to be shunned. In Cyrus, Aeneas, Vlis∣ses, each thing to be followed; where the Histo∣rian, bound to tell things as things were, cannot be liberall (without hee will be poeticall) of a perfect patterne: but as in Alexander or Scipio himselfe, shew dooings, some to be liked, some to be misliked. And then how will you discerne what to followe but by your owne discretion, which you had without reading Quintus Cur∣tius? And whereas a man may say, though in v∣niuersall consideration of doctrine the Poet pre∣uaileth; yet that the historie, in his saying such a thing was doone, doth warrant a man more in that hee shall follow.

The aunswere is manifest, that if hee stande vpon that was; as if hee should argue, because it rayned yesterday, therefore it shoulde rayne to day, then indeede it hath some aduantage to a grose conceite: but if hee know an example on∣lie, informes a coniectured likelihood, & so goe

by reason, the Poet dooth so farre exceede him, as hee is to frame his example to that which is most reasonable: be it in warlike, politick, or pri∣uate matters; where the Historian in his bare VVas, hath many times that which wee call for∣tune, to ouer-rule the best wisedome. Manie times, he must tell euents, whereof he can yeelde no cause: or if hee doe, it must be poeticall; for that a fayned example, hath asmuch force to teach, as a true example: (for as for to mooue, it is cleere, sith the fayned may bee tuned to the highest key of passion,) let vs take one example, wherein a Poet and a Historian doe concur.

Herodotus and Iustine do both testifie, that Zo∣pirus, King Darius faithfull seruaunt, seeing his Maister long resisted by the rebellious Babiloni∣ans, fayned himselfe in extreame disgrace of his King: for verifying of which, he caused his own nose and eares to be cut off: and so flying to the Babylonians, was receiued: and for his knowne valour, so far credited, that hee did finde meanes to deliuer them ouer to Darius. Much like mat∣ter doth Liuie record of Tarquinius and his sonne. Xenophon excellently faineth such another strata∣geme, performed by Abradates in Cyrus behalfe. Now would I fayne know, if occasion bee pre∣sented vnto you, to serue your Prince by such an honest dissimulation, why you doe not as well learne it of Xenophons fiction, as of the others ve∣rity: and truely so much the better, as you shall

saue your nose by the bargaine: for Abradates did not counterfet so far. So then the best of the Historian, is subiect to the Poet; for whatsoeuer action, or faction, whatsoeuer counsell, pollicy, or warre stratagem, the Historian is bound to re∣cite, that may the Poet (if he list) with his imita∣tion make his own; beautifying it both for fur∣ther teaching, and more delighting, as it pleaseth him: hauing all, from Dante his heauen, to hys hell, vnder the authoritie of his penne. VVhich if I be asked what Poets haue done so, as I might well name some, yet say I, and say againe, I speak of the Arte, and not of the Artificer.

Nowe, to that which commonly is attributed to the prayse of histories, in respect of the nota∣ble learning is gotten by marking the successe, as though therein a man should see vertue exalted, and vice punished. Truely that commendation is peculiar to Poetrie, and farre of from History. For indeede Poetrie euer setteth vertue so out in her best cullours, making Fortune her wel-way∣ting hand-mayd, that one must needs be enamo∣red of her. VVell may you see Vlisses in a storme, and in other hard plights; but they are but exer∣cises of patience & magnanimitie, to make them shine the more in the neere-following prosperi∣tie. And of the contrarie part, if euill men come to the stage, they euer goe out (as the Tragedie VVriter answered, to one that misliked the shew of such persons) so manacled, as they little ani∣mate

folkes to followe them. But the Historian, beeing captiued to the trueth of a foolish world, is many times a terror frō well dooing, and an in∣couragement to vnbrideled wickednes.

For, see wee not valiant Milciades rot in his fetters? The iust Phocion, and the accomplished Socrates, put to death like Traytors? The cruell Seuerus liue prosperously? The excellent Seuerus miserably murthered? Sylla and Marius dying in theyr beddes? Pompey and Cicero slaine then, when they would haue thought exile a happi∣nesse?

See wee not vertuous Cato driuen to kyll himselfe? and rebell Caesar so aduaunced, that his name yet after 1600. yeeres, lasteth in the highest honor? And marke but euen Caesars own words of the fore-named Sylla, (who in that onely did honestly, to put downe his dishonest tyrannie,) Literas nesciuit, as if want of learning caused him to doe well. Hee meant it not by Poetrie, which not content with earthly plagues, deuiseth new punishments in hel for Tyrants: nor yet by Phi∣losophie, which teacheth Occidendos esse, but no doubt by skill in Historie: for that indeede can affoord you Cipselus, Periander, Phalaris, Dionisi∣us, and I know not how many more of the same kennell, that speede well enough in theyr abho∣minable vniustice or vsurpation. I conclude therefore, that hee excelleth Historie, not onely in furnishing the minde with knowledge, but in

setting it forward, to that which deserueth to be called and accounted good: which setting for∣ward, and moouing to well dooing, indeed set∣teth the Lawrell crowne vpon the Poet as vic∣torious, not onely of the Historian, but ouer the Phylosopher: howsoeuer in teaching it may bee questionable.

For suppose it be granted, (that which I sup∣pose with great reason may be denied,) that the Philosopher in respect of his methodical procee∣ding, doth teach more perfectly then the Poet: yet do I thinke, that no man is so much Philophi∣losophos, as to compare the Philosopher in moo∣uing, with the Poet.

And that moouing is of a higher degree then teaching, it may by this appeare: that it is wel nigh the cause and the effect of teaching. For who will be taught, if hee bee not mooued with desire to be taught? and what so much good doth that teaching bring forth, (I speak still of morrall doctrine) as that it mooueth one to doe that which it dooth teach? for as Aristotle sayth, it is not Gnosis, but Praxis must be the fruit. And howe Praxis cannot be, without being mooued to practise, it is no hard matter to consider.

The Philosopher sheweth you the way, hee informeth you of the particularities, as well of the tediousnes of the way, as of the pleasant lod∣ging you shall haue when your iourney is ended, as of the many by-turnings that may diuert you

from your way. But this is to no man but to him that will read him, and read him with atten∣tiue studious painfulnes. VVhich constant de∣sire, whosoeuer hath in him, hath already past halfe the hardnes of the way, and therefore is be∣holding to the Philosopher but for the other halfe. Nay truely, learned men haue learnedly thought, that where once reason hath so much ouer-mastred passion, as that the minde hath a a free desire to doe well, the inward light each minde hath in it selfe, is as good as a Philoso∣phers booke; seeing in nature we know it is wel, to doe well, and what is well, and what is euill, although not in the words of Arte, which Phi∣losophers bestowe vpon vs. For out of naturall conceit, the Philosophers drew it, but to be mo∣ued to doe that which wee know, or to be moo∣ued with desire to knowe, Hoc opus: Hic labor est.

Nowe therein of all Sciences, (I speak still of humiane, & according to the humiane conceits) is our Poet the Monarch. For he dooth not on∣ly show the way, but giueth so sweete a prospect into the way, as will intice any man to enter into it. Nay, he dooth as if your iourney should lye through a fayre Vineyard, at the first giue you a cluster of Grapes: that full of that taste, you may long to passe further. He beginneth not with ob∣scure definitions, which must blur the margent with interpretations, and load the memory with

doubtfulnesse: but hee commeth to you with words set in delightfull proportion, either ac∣companied with, or prepared for the well in∣chaunting skill of Musicke; and with a tale for∣sooth he commeth vnto you: with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner. And pretending no more, doth intende the winning of the mind from wic∣kednesse to vertue: euen as the childe is often brought to take most wholsom things, by hiding them in such other as haue a pleasant tast: which if one should beginne to tell them, the nature of Aloes, or Rubarb they shoulde receiue, woulde sooner take their Phisicke at their eares, then at their mouth. So is it in men, (most of which are childish in the best things, till they bee cradled in their graues,) glad they will be to heare the tales of Hercules, Achilles, Cyrus, and Aeneas: and hea∣ring them, must needs heare the right descripti∣on of wisdom, valure, and iustice; which, if they had been barely, that is to say, Philosophically set out, they would sweare they bee brought to schoole againe.

That imitation wherof Poetry is, hath the most conueniency to Nature of all other, in so∣much, that as Aristotle sayth, those things which in themselues are horrible, as cruell battailes, vn∣naturall Monsters, are made in poeticall imitation delightfull. Truely, I haue knowen men, that euen with reading Amadis de Gaule, (which God

knoweth wanteth much of a perfect Poesie,) haue found their harts mooued to the exercise of courtesie, liberalitie, and especially courage.

VVho readeth Aeneas carrying olde Anchises on his back, that wisheth not it were his fortune to perfourme so excellent an acte? VVhom doe not the words of Turnus mooue? (the tale of Tur∣nus, hauing planted his image in the imaginati∣on,)

—Fugientem haec terra videbit, Vsque adeone mori miserum est?—

VVhere the Philosophers, as they scorne to de∣light, so must they bee content little to mooue: sauing wrangling, whether Vertue bee the chiefe, or the onely good: vvhether the con∣templatiue, or the actiue life doe excell: vvhich Plato and Boetius well knew, and therefore made Mistres Philosophy, very often borrow the mas∣king rayment of Poesie. For euen those harde harted euill men, who thinke vertue a schoole name, and knowe no other good, but indulgere genio, and therefore despise the austere admo∣nitions of the Philosopher, and feele not the in∣ward reason they stand vpon; yet will be content to be delighted: which is al, the good felow Po∣et seemeth to promise: and so steale to see the forme of goodnes (which seene they cannot but loue,) ere themselues be aware, as if they tooke a medicine of Cherries. Infinite proofes of the strange effects of this poeticall inuention might

be alledged, onely two shall serue, which are so often remembred, as I thinke all men knowe them.

The one of Menenius Agrippa, who when the whole people of Rome had resolutely deuided themselues from the Senate, with apparant shew of vtter ruine: though hee were (for that time) an excellent Oratour, came not among them, vpon trust of figuratiue speeches, or cunning in∣sinuations: and much lesse, with farre fet Maxi∣mes of Phylosophie, which (especially if they were Platonick,) they must haue learned Geome∣trie before they could well haue cōceiued but forsooth he behaues himselfe, like a homely, and familiar Poet. Hee telleth them a tale, that there was a time, when all the parts of the body made a mutinous conspiracie against the belly, which they thought deuoured the fruits of each others labour: they cōcluded they would let so vnpro∣fitable a spender starue. In the end, to be short, (for the tale is notorious, and as notorious that it was a tale,) with punishing the belly, they pla∣gued themselues. This applied by him, wrought such effect in the people, as I neuer read, that euer words brought forth but then, so suddaine & so good an alteration: for vpon reasonable conditi∣ons, a perfect reconcilement ensued. The other is of Nathan the Prophet, who whē the holie Dauid had so far forsaken God, as to confirme adulterie with murther: when hee was to doe the tende∣rest

office of a friende, in laying his owne shame before his eyes, sent by God to call againe so cho∣sen a seruant: how doth he it? but by telling of a man, whose beloued Lambe was vngratefullie taken from his bosome: the applycation most di∣uinely true, but the discourse it selfe, fayned: which made Dauid, (I speake of the second and instrumentall cause,) as in a glasse, to see his own filthines, as that heauenly Psalme of mercie wel testifieth.

By these therefore examples and reasons, I think it may be manifest, that the Poet with that same hand of delight, doth draw the mind more effectually, then any other Arte dooth, and so a conclusion not vnfitlie ensueth: that as vertue is the most excellent resting place for all worldlie learning to make his end of: so Poetrie, beeing the most familiar to teach it, and most princelie to moue towards it, in the most excellent work, is the most excellent workman. But I am content, not onely to descipher him by his workes, (al∣though works in commendation or disprayse, must euer holde an high authority,) but more narrowly will examine his parts: so that (as in a man) though altogether may carry a presence ful of maiestie & beautie, perchance in some one defectious peece, we may find a blemish: now in his parts, kindes, or Species, (as you list to terme thē) it is to be noted, that some Poesies haue cou∣pled together two or three kindes, as Tragicall

and Comicall, wher-vpon is risen, the Tragi-co∣micall. Some in the like manner haue mingled Prose and Verse, as Sanazzar and Boetius. Some haue mingled matters Heroicall & Pastorall. But that commeth all to one in this question, for if seuered they be good, the coniunction cannot be hurtfull. Therefore perchaunce forgetting some, & leauing some as needlesse to be remem∣bred, it shall not be amisse in a worde to cite the speciall kindes, to see what faults may be found in the right vse of them.

Is it then the Pastorall Poem which is misli∣ked? (for perchance, where the hedge is low∣est, they will soonest leape ouer.) Is the poore pype disdained, which sometime out of Melibeus mouth, can shewe the miserie of people, vnder hard Lords, or rauening Souldiours? And again, by Titirus, what blessednes is deriued to them that lye lowest from the goodnesse of them that sit highest? Sometimes, vnder the prettie tales of VVolues and Sheepe, can include the whole considerations of wrong dooing and patience. Sometimes shew, that contention for trifles, can get but a trifling victorie. VVhere perchaunce a man may see, that euen Alexander and Darius, when they straue who should be Cocke of thys worlds dunghill, the benefit they got, was, that the after-liuers may say,

Haec memini & victum frustra contendere Thirsin: Ex illo Coridon, Coridon est tempore nobis.

Or is it the lamenting Elegiack, which in a kinde hart would mooue rather pitty thē blame, who bewailes with the great Philosopher Hera∣clitus, the weakenes of man-kind, and the wret∣chednes of the world: who surely is to be pray∣sed, either for compassionate accompanying iust causes of lamentation, or for rightly paynting out how weake be the passions of wofulnesse. Is it the bitter, but wholsome Iambick, which rubs the galled minde, in making shame the trumpet of villanie, with bolde & open crying out against naughtines? Or the Satirick, who

Omne vafer vitium, ridenti tangit amico.

VVho sportingly neuer leaueth, vntil hee make a man laugh at folly, and at length ashamed, to laugh at himselfe: which he cannot auoyd, with∣out auoyding the follie. VVho while

Circum praecordia ludit,

giueth vs to feele, howe many head-aches a pas∣sionate life bringeth vs to. How whē all is done,

Est vlubris animus si nos non deficit aequus.

No, perchance it is the Comick, whom naugh∣tie Play-makers and Stage-keepers, haue iustly made odious. To the argument of abuse, I will answer after. 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 & scornefull sort that may be. So as it is impossible, that any beholder can be con∣tent to be such a one.

Now, as in Geometry, the oblique must bee knowne as wel as the right: and in Arithmetick, the odde aswell as the euen, so in the actions of our life, who seeth not the filthines of euil, wan∣teth a great foile to perceiue the beauty of ver∣tue. This doth the Comedy handle so in our pri∣uate & domestical matters, as with hearing it, we get as it were an experience, what is to be looked for of a nigardly Demea: of a crasty Dauus: of a flattering Gnato: of a vaine glorious Thraso: and not onely to know what effects are to be expec∣ted, but to know who be such, by the signifying badge giuen them by the Comedian. And little reason hath any man to say, that men learne euill by seeing it so set out 〈◊〉〈◊〉 as I sayd before, there is no man liuing, but by the force trueth hath in nature, no sooner seeth these mē play their parts, but wisheth thē in Pistrin̄ although perchance the sack of his owne faults, lye so behinde hys back, that he seeth not himselfe daunce the same measure: whereto, yet nothing can more open his eyes, then to finde his own actions contemp∣tibly set forth. So that the right vse of Comedy will (I thinke) by no body be blamed, and much lesse of the high and excellent Tragedy, that o∣peneth the greatest wounds, and sheweth forth the Vicers, that are couered with Tissue: that maketh Kinges feare to be Tyrants, and Tyrants manifest their tiranicall humors: that with stur∣ring the affects of admiration and commiserati∣on,

teacheth, the vncertainety of this world; and vpon howe weake foundations guilden roofes are builded. That maketh vs knowe,

Qui sceptra saeuus, duro imperioregit, Timet timentes, metus in authorem redit.

But how much it can mooue, Plutarch yeeldeth a notable testimonie, of the abhominable Ty∣rant, Alexander Pheraeus; frō whose eyes; a Tra∣gedy wel made, and represented, drewe aboun∣dance of teares: who without all pitty, had mur∣thered infinite nombers, and some of his owne blood. So as he, that was not ashamed to make matters for Tragedies, yet coulde not resist the sweet violence of a Tragedie.

And if it wrought no further good in him, it was, that he in despight of himselfe, with drewe himselfe from harkening to that, which might mollifie his hardened hart. But it is not the Tra∣gedy they doemislike: For it were too absurd to cast out so excellent a representation of what∣soeuer is most worthy to be learned. Is it the Li∣ricke that most displeaseth, who with his tuned Lyre, and wel accorded voyce, giueth praise, the reward of vertue, to vertuous acts? who giues morrall precepts, and naturall Problemes, who sometimes rayseth vp his voice to the height of the heauens, in singing the laudes of the immor∣tall God. Certainly I must confesse my own bar∣barousnes, I neuer heard the olde song of Percy and Duglas, that I found not my heart mooued

more then with a Trumpet: and yet is it sung but by some blinde Crouder, with no rougher voyce, then rude stile: which being so euill ap∣parrelled in the dust and cobwebbes of that vnci∣uill age, what would it worke trymmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar? In Hungary I haue seene it the manner at all Feasts, and other such meetings, to haue songes of their Aunce∣stours valour; which that right Souldier-like Nation thinck the chiefest kindlers of braue cou∣rage. The incomparable Lacedemonians, did not only carry that kinde of Musicke euer with them to the field, but euen at home, as such songs were made, so were they all content to bee the singers of them, when the lusty men were to tell what they dyd, the olde men, what they had done, & the young men what they wold doe. And where a man may say, that Pindar many times prayseth highly victories of small moment, matters rather of sport then vertue: as it may be aunswered, it was the fault of the Poet, and not of the Poetry; so indeede, the chiefe fault was in the tyme and custome of the Greekes, who set those toyes at so high a price, that Phillip of Macedon reckoned a horse-race wonne at Olimpus, among hys three fearefull felicities. But as the vnimitable Pindar often did, so is that kinde most capable and most fit, to awake the thoughts from the sleep of idle∣nes, to imbrace honorable enterprises.

There rests the Heroicall, whose very name

(I thinke) should daunt all back-biters; for by what conceit can a tongue be directed to speake euill of that, which draweth with it, no lesse Champions then Achilles, Cyrus, Aeneas, Turnus, Tideus, and Rinaldo? who doth not onely teach and moue to a truth, but teacheth and mooueth to the most high and excellent truth. VVho ma∣keth magnanimity and iustice shine, throughout all misty fearefulnes and foggy desires. VVho, if the saying of Plato and Tullie bee true, that who could see Vertue, would be wonderfully raui∣shed with the loue of her beauty: this man sets her out to make her more louely in her holyday apparell, to the eye of any that will daine, not to disdaine, vntill they vnderstand. But if any thing be already sayd in the defence of sweete Poetry, all concurreth to the maintaining the Heroicall, which is not onely a kinde, but the best, and most accomplished kinde of Poetry. For as the image of each action styrreth and instructeth the mind, so the loftie image of such VVorthies, most in∣flameth the mind with desire to be worthy, and informes with counsel how to be worthy. Only let Aeneas be worne in the tablet of your memo∣ry, how he gouerneth himselfe in the ruine of his Country, in the preseruing his old Father, & car∣rying away his religious ceremonies: in obeying the Gods commandement to leaue Dido, though not onely all passionate kindenes, but euen the humane consideration of vertuous gratefulnes,

would haue craued other of him. How in storms, howe in sports, howe in warre, howe in peace, how a fugitiue, how victorious, how besiedged, how besiedging, howe to strangers, howe to al∣lyes, how to enemies, howe to his owne: lastly, how in his inward selfe, and how in his outward gouernment. And I thinke, in a minde not pre∣iudiced with a preiudicating humor, hee will be found in excellencie fruitefull: yea, euen as Ho∣race sayth,

Melius Chrisippo et Crantore.

But truely I imagine, it falleth out with these Poet-whyppers, as with some good women, who often are sicke, but in fayth they cannot tel where. So the name of Poetrie is odious to thē, but neither his cause, nor effects, neither the sum that containes him, nor the particularities des∣cending from him, giue any fast handle to their carping disprayse.

Sith then Poetrie is of all humane learning the most auncient, & of most fatherly antiquitie, as frō whence other learnings haue taken theyr beginnings: sith it is so vniuersall, that no lear∣ned Nation dooth despise it, nor no barbarous Nation is without it: sith both Roman & Greek gaue diuine names vnto it: the one of prophe∣cying, the other of making. And that indeede, that name of making is fit for him; considering, that where as other Arts retaine thēselues with∣in their subiect, and receiue as it were, their bee∣ing

from it: the Poet onely, bringeth his owne stuffe, and dooth not learne a conceite out of a matter, but maketh matter for a conceite: Sith neither his description, nor his ende, contayneth any euill, the thing described cannot be euil: Sith his effects be so good as to teach goodnes and to delight the learners: Sith therin, (namely in mor∣rall doctrine, the chiefe of all knowledges,) hee dooth not onely farre passe the Historian, but for instructing, is well nigh comparable to the Phi∣losopher: & for mouing, leaues him behind him: Sith the holy scripture (wherein there is no vn∣cleannes) hath whole parts in it poeticall. And that euen our Sauiour Christ, vouchsafed to vse the flowers of it: Sith all his kindes are not on∣lie in their vnited formes, but in their seuered dis∣sections fully commendable, I think, (& think I thinke rightly,) the Lawrell crowne appointed for tryumphing Captaines, doth worthilie (of al other learnings) honor the Poets tryumph. But because wee haue eares aswell as tongues, and that the lightest reasons that may be, will seeme to weigh greatly, if nothing be put in the coun∣ter-ballance: let vs heare, and aswell as wee can ponder, what obiections may bee made against this Arte, which may be worthy, eyther of yeel∣ding, or answering.

First truely I note, not onely in these Myso∣mousoi Poet-haters, but in all that kinde of peo∣ple, who seek a prayse by dispraysing others, that

they doe prodigally spend a great many wande∣ring wordes, in quips, and scoffes; carping and taunting at each thing, which by styrring the Spleene, may stay the braine from a through be∣holding the worthines of the subiect.

Those kinde of obiections, as they are full of very idle easines, sith there is nothing of so sacred a maiestie, but that an itching tongue may rubbe it selfe vpon it: so deserue they no other answer, but in steed of laughing at the iest, to laugh at the iester. VVee know a playing wit, can prayse the discretion of an Asse; the comfortablenes of be∣ing in debt, and the iolly commoditie of beeing sick of the plague. So of the contrary side, if we will turne Ouids verse,

Vt lateat virtus, proximitate mali,

that good lye hid in neerenesse of the euill: A∣grippa will be as merry in shewing the vanitie of Science, as Erasmus was in commending of fol∣lie. Neyther shall any man or matter escape some touch of these smyling raylers. But for Erasmus and Agrippa, they had another foundation then the superficiall part would promise. Mary, these other pleasant Fault-finders, who wil correct the Verbe, before they vnderstand the Noune, and confute others knowledge before they confirme theyr owne: I would haue them onely remem∣ber, that scoffing commeth not of wisedom. So as the best title in true English they gette with their merriments, is to be called good fooles: for

so haue our graue Fore-fathers euer termed that humorous kinde of iesters: but that which gyueth greatest scope to their scorning humors, is ryming and versing. It is already sayde, (and as I think, trulie sayde,) it is not ryming and ver∣sing, that maketh Poesie. One may bee a Poet without versing, and a versifyer without Poetry. But yet, presuppose it were inseparable (as in∣deede it seemeth Scaliger iudgeth,) truelie it were an inseparable cōmendation. For if Oratio, next to Ratio, Speech next to Reason, bee the greatest gyft bestowed vpon mortalitie: that can not be praiselesse, which dooth most pollish that blessing of speech, which considers each word, not only (as a man may say) by his forcible qua∣litie, but by his best measured quantitie, carry∣ing euen in themselues, a Harmonie: (without (perchaunce) Number, Measure, Order, Pro∣portion, be in our time growne odious.) But lay a side the iust prayse it hath, by beeing the onely fit speech for Musick, (Musick I say, the most di∣uine striker of the sences:) thus much is vn∣doubtedly true, that if reading bee foolish, with∣out remembring, memorie being the onely trea∣surer of knowlede, those words which are fittest for memory, are likewise most conuenient for knowledge.

Now, that Verse farte exceed Prose in the knitting vp of the memory, the reason is manifest. The words, (besides theyr delight which hath a

great affinitie to memory,) beeing so set, as one word cannot be lost, but the whole worke failes: which accuseth it selfe, calleth the remem∣brance backe to it selfe, and so most most strongly con∣firmeth it; besides, one word so as it were beget∣ting another, as be it in ryme or measured verse, by the former a man shall haue a neere gesse to the follower: lastly, euen they that haue taught the Art of memory, haue shewed nothing so apt for it, as a certaine roome deuided into many places well and throughly knowne. Now, that hath the verse in effect perfectly: euery word ha∣uing his naturall seate, which seate, must needes make the word remembred. But what needeth more in a thing so knowne to all men? who is it that euer was a scholler, that doth not carry away some verses of Virgill, Horace, or Cato, which in his youth he leanned, and euen to his old age serue him for howrely lessons but the fitnes it hath for memory, is notably proued by all deliu∣ery of Arts: wherin for the most part, from Gram∣mer, to Logick, Mathematick, physick, and the 〈4 lines〉〈4 lines〉 it must be in iest that any man can speake, against it. 〈4 lines〉〈4 lines〉

many other more fruitfull knowledges a man might better spend his ryme in them, then in this. Secondly, that it is the mother of lyes. Thirdly, that it is the Nurse of abuse; infecting vs infecting many pestilent desire: with a Syrens sweetnes, thawing the mind to the Serpents tayle of sinfull fancy. And heerein especially, Comedies giue the largest field to erre, as Chaucer sayth: howe both in other Nations and in ours, before Poets did soften vs, we were full of courage given to martiall excersices the 〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉

knowledge. To the second therefore, that they should be the principall lyars; I aunswere para∣doxically, but truely, I thinke truely; that of all VVriters vnder the sunne, the Poet is the least li∣er: and though he would, as a Poet can scarcely be a lyer, the Astronomer, with his cosen the Geometrician, can hardly escape, when they take vpon them to measure the height of the starres.

How often, thinke you, doe the Phisitians lye, when they auer things, good for sicknesses, which afterwards send Charon a great nomber of soules drownd in a potion before they come to his Ferry. And no lesse of the rest, which take v∣pon them to affirme. Now, for the Poet, he no∣thing affirmes, and therefore neuer lyeth. For, as I take it, to lye, is to affirme that to be true which is false. So as the other Artists, and especially the Historian, affirming many things, can in the clou∣dy knowledge of mankinde, hardly escape from many lyes. But the Poet as (I sayd before) ne∣uer affirmeth. The Poet neuer maketh any cir∣cles about your imagination, to coniure you to beleeue for true what he writes. Hee citeth not authorities of other Histories, but euen for hys entry, calleth the sweete Muses to inspire into him a good inuention: in troth, not labouring to tell you what is, or is not, but what should or should not be: and therefore, though he recount things not true; yet because hee telleth them not

for true, he lyeth not, without we will say, that Nathan lyed in his speech, before alledged to Dauid. VVhich as a wicked man durst scarce say, so think I, none so simple would say, that E∣sope lyed in the tales of his beasts: for who thinks that Esope writ it for actually true, were well worthy to haue his name cronicled among the beastes hee writeth of.

VVhat childe is there, that cōming to a Play, and seeing Thebes written in great Letters vpon an olde doore, doth beleeue that it is Thebes? If then, a man can ariue, at that childs age, to know that the Poets persons and dooings, are but pic∣tures what should be, and not stories what haue beene, they will neuer giue the lye, to things not affirmatiuely, but allegorically, and figuratiuelie written. And therefore, as in Historie, looking for trueth, they goe away full fraught with fals∣hood: so in Poesie, looking for fiction, they shal vse the narration, but as an imaginatiue ground∣plot of a profitable inuention.

But heereto is replyed, that the Poets gyue names to men they write of, which argueth a conceite of an actuall truth, and so, not beeing true, prooues a falshood. And doth the Lawyer lye then, when vnder the names of Iohn a stile, and Iohn a noakes, hee puts his case? But that is easily answered. Theyr naming of men, is but to make theyr picture the more liuely, and not to builde any historie: paynting men, they cannot

leaue men namelesse. VVe see we cannot play at Chesse, but that wee must giue names to our Chesse-men; and yet mee thinks, hee were a ve∣ry partiall Champion of truth, that would say we lyed, for giuing a peece of wood, the reuerend title of a Bishop. The Poet nameth Cyrus or Ae∣neas, no other way, then to shewe, what men of theyr fames, fortunes, and estates, should doe.

Their third is, howe much it abuseth mens wit, trayning it to wanton sinfulnes, and lustfull loue: for indeed that is the principall, if not the onely abuse I can heare alledged. They say, the Comedies rather teach, then reprehend, amo∣rous conceits. They say, the Lirick, is larded with passionate Sonnets. The Elegiack, weepes the want of his Mistresse. And that euen to the He∣roical, Cupid hath ambitiously climed. Alas Loue, I would, thou couldest as well defende thy selfe, as thou canst offende others. I would those, on whom thou doost attend, could eyther put thee away, or yeelde good reason, why they keepe thee. But grant loue of beautie, to be a beastlie fault, (although it be very hard, sith onely man, and no beast, hath that gyft, to discerne beauty.) Grant, that louely name of Loue, to deserue all hatefull reproches: (although euen some of my Maisters the Phylosophers, spent a good deale of theyr Lamp-oyle, in setting foorth the excellen∣cie of it.) Grant, I say, what soeuer they wil haue granted; that not onely loue, but lust, but va∣nitie,

but, (if they list) scurrilitie, possesseth many leaues of the Poets bookes: yet thinke I, when this is granted, they will finde, theyr sentence may with good manners, put the last words for∣most: 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 haue defined, figuring foorth good things,) to bee Phantastike: which doth contra∣riwise, infect the fancie with vnworthy obiects. As the Painter, that shoulde giue to the eye, ey∣ther some excellent perspectiue, or some fine pic∣ture, fit for building or fortification: or contay∣ning in it some notable example, as Abraham, sa∣crificing his Sonne Isaack, Iudith killing Holo∣fernes, Dauid fighting with Goliah, may leaue those, and please an ill-pleased eye, with wanton shewes of better hidden matters. But what, shall the abuse of a thing, make the right vse odious? Nay truely, though I yeeld, that Poesie may not onely be abused, but that beeing abused, by the reason of his sweete charming force, it can doe more hurt then any other Armie of words: yet shall it be so far from concluding, that the abuse, should giue reproch to the abused, that contra∣riwise it is a good reason, that whatsoeuer being abused, dooth most harme, beeing rightly vsed: (and vpon the right vse each thing conceiueth his title,) doth most good.

Doe wee not see the skill of Phisick, (the best rampire to our often-assaulted bodies,) beeing abused, teach poyson the most violent destroyer? Dooth not knowledge of Law, whose end is, to euen and right all things being abused, grow the crooked fosterer of horrible iniuries? Doth not (to goe to the highest) Gods word abused, breed heresie? and his Name abused, become blasphe∣mie? Truely, a needle cannot doe much hurt, and as truely, (with leaue of Ladies be it spoken) it cannot doe much good. VVith a sword, thou maist kill thy Father, & with a sword thou maist defende thy Prince and Country. So that, as in their calling Poets the Fathers of lyes, they say nothing: so in this theyr argument of abuse, they prooue the commendation.

They alledge heere-with, that before Poets beganne to be in price, our Nation, hath set their harts delight vpon action, and not vpon imagi∣nation: rather doing things worthy to bee writ∣ten, then writing things fitte to be done. VVhat that before tyme was, I thinke scarcely Sphinx can tell: Sith no memory is so auncient, that hath the precedence of Poetrie. And certaine it is, that in our plainest homelines, yet neuer was the Albion Nation without Poetrie. Mary, thys argument, though it bee leaueld against Poetrie, yet is it indeed, a chaine-shot against all learning, or bookishnes, as they commonly tearme it. Of such minde were certaine Gothes, of whom it is

written, that hauing in the spoile of a famous Ci∣tie, taken a fayre librarie; one hangman (bee like fitte to execute the fruites of their wits,) who had murthered a great number of bodies, would haue set fire on it: no sayde another, very graue∣ly, take heede what you doe, for whyle they are busie about these toyes, wee shall with more ley∣sure conquer their Countries.

This indeede is the ordinary doctrine of ig∣norance, and many wordes sometymes I haue heard spent in it; but because this reason is gene∣rally against all learning, aswell as Poetrie; or ra∣ther, all learning but Poetry: because it were too large a digression, to handle, or at least, to super∣fluous: (sith it is manifest, that all gouernment of action, is to be gotten by knowledg, and know∣ledge best, by gathering many knowledges, which is, reading,) I onely with Horace, to him that is of that opinion,

Iubeo stultum esse libenter:

for as for Poetrie it selfe, it is the freest from thys obiection. For Poetrie is the companion of Campes.

I dare vndertake, Orlando Furioso, or honest King Arthur, will neuer displease a Souldier: but the quiddity of Ens, and Prima materia, will hardely agree with a Corslet: and therefore, as I said in the beginning, euen Turks and Tartares are delighted with Poets. Homer a Greek, flori∣shed, before Greece florished. And if to a slight

coniecture, a conieture may be opposed: tru∣ly it may seeme, that as by him, their learned men, tooke almost their first light of knowledge, so their actiue men, receiued their first motions of courage. Onlie Alexanders example may serue, who by Plutarch is accounted of such vertue, that Fortune was not his guide, but his foote-stoole: whose acts speake for him, though Plutarch did not: indeede, the Phaenix of warlike Princes. This Alexander, left his Schoolemaister, liuing Aristotle, behinde him, but tooke deade Homer with him: he put the Philosopher Calisthenes to death, for his seeming philosophicall, indeed mut∣mous stubburnnes. But the chiefe thing he euer was heard to wish for, was, that Homer had been aliue. He well found, he receiued more braue∣rie of minde, by the patterne of Achilles, then by hearing the defination of Fortitude: and there∣fore, if Cato misliked Fuluius, for carying Ennius with him to the fielde, it may be aunswered, that if Cato misliked it, the noble Fuluius liked it, or els he had not doone it: for it was not the excellent Cato Vticensis, (whose authority I would much more have 〈◊〉〈◊〉,) but it was the former: in 〈…〉〈…〉 of faults, but else, a man that had 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sacrificed to the Graces. Hee misliked and dryed out vpon all Greeke learning, and yet being 80 yeeres olde, began to learne it. Be like, soaring that Pluto understood not Latine. indeede, the Romance lawes allowed, no per∣son

to be carried to the warres, but hee that was in the Souldiers role: and therefore, though Ca∣to misliked his vnmustered person, hee misliked not his worke. And if hee had, Scipio Nasica iudged by common consent, the best Romaine, loued him. Both the other Scipio Brothers, who had by their vertues no lesse surnames, then of Asia, and Affrick, so loued him, that they caused his body to be buried in their Sepulcher. So as Cato, his authoritie being but against his person, and that aunswered, with so farre greater then himselfe, is heerein of no validitie. But now in∣deede my burthen is great; now Plato his name is layde vpon mee, whom I must confesse, of all Philosophers, I haue euer esteemed most worthy of reuerence, and with great reason: Sith of all Philosophers, he is the most poeticall. Yet if he will defile the Fountaine, out of which his flow∣ing streames haue proceeded, let vs boldly exa∣mine with what reasons hee did it. First truly, a man might maliciously obiect, that Plato being a Philosopher, was a naturall enemie of Poets: for indeede, after the Philosophers, had picked out of the sweete misteries of Poetrie, the right discerning true points of knowledge, they forth∣with putting it in method, & making a Schoole∣arte of that which the Poets did onely teach, by a diuine delightfulnes, beginning to spurne at their guides, like vngratefull Prentises, were not con∣tent to set vp shops for themselues, but sought by

all meanes to discredit their Maisters. VVhich by the force of delight beeing barred them, the lesse they could ouerthrow them, the more they hated them. For indeede, they found for Homer, seauen Citties stroue, who should haue him for their Citizen: where many Citties banished Phi∣losophers, as not fitte members to liue among them. For onely repeating certaine of Euripides verses, many Athenians had their lyues saued of the Siracusians: when the Athenians themselues, thought many Philosophers, vnwoorthie to liue.

Certaine Poets, as Simonides, and Pindarus, had so preuailed with Hiero the first, that of a Ti∣rant they made him a iust King, where Plato could do so little with Dionisius, that he himselfe, of a Philosopher, was made a slaue. But who should doe thus, I confesse, should requite the obiections made against Poets, with like cauilla∣tion against Philosophers, as likewise one should doe, that should bid one read Phaedrus, or Sympo∣sium in Plato, or the discourse of loue in Plutarch, and see whether any Poet doe authorize abho∣minable filthines, as they doe. Againe, a man might aske out of what Common-wealth Plato did banish them? insooth, thence where he him∣selfe alloweth communitie of women: So as be∣like, this banishment grewe not for effeminate wantonnes, sith little should poeticall Sonnets be hurtfull, when a man might haue what wo∣man

he listed. But I honor philosophicall instruc∣tions, and blesse the wits which bred them: so as they be not abused, which is likewise stretched to Poetrie.

S. Paule himselfe, (who yet for the credite of Poets) alledgeth twise two Poets, & one of them by the name of a Prophet, setteth a watch-word vpon Philosophy, indeede vpon the abuse. So dooth Plato, vpon the abuse, not vpon Poetrie. Plato found fault, that the Poets of his time, fil∣led the worlde, with wrong opinions of the Gods, making light tales of that vnspotted es∣sence; and therefore, would not haue the youth depraued with such opinions. Heerin may much be said, let this suffice: the Poets did not induce such opinions, but dyd imitate those opinions al∣ready induced. For all the Greek stories can well testifie, that the very religion of that time, stoode vpon many, and many-fashioned Gods, not taught so by the Poets, but followed, according to their nature of imitation. VVho list, may reade in Plutarch, the discourses of Isis, and Osiris, of the cause why Oracles ceased, of the diuine proui∣dence: and see, whether the Theologie of that nation, stood not vpon such dreames, which the Poets indeed supersticiously obserued: and tru∣ly, (sith they had not the light of Christ,) did much better in it then the Philosophers, who shaking off superstition, brought in Atheisme. Plato therefore, (whose authoritie I had much

rather iustly conster, then vniustly resist,) meant not in general of Poets, in those words of which Iulius Scaliger saith, Qua authoritate, barbari quidā, atque hispidi, abuti velint, ad Poet as republica exi∣gendos: but only meant, to driue out those wrong opinions of the Deitie, (whereof now, without further law, Christianity hath taken away all the hurtful beliefe,) perchance (as he thought) no∣rished by the then esteemed Poets. And a man neede goe no further then to Plato himselfe, to know his meaning: who in his Dialogue called Ion, giueth high, and rightly diuine commenda∣tion to Poetrie. So as Plato, banishing the abuse, not the thing, not banishing it, but giuing due honor vnto it, shall be our Patron, and not our aduersarie. For indeed I had much rather, (sith truly I may doe it) shew theyr mistaking of Plato, (vnder whose Lyons skin they would make an Asse-like braying against Poesie,) thē goe about to ouer-throw his authority, whom the wiser a man is, the more iust cause he shall find to haue in admiration: especially, sith he attributeth vnto Poesie, more then my selfe doe; namely, to be a very inspiring of a diuine force, farre aboue mans wit; as in the afore-named Dialogue is appa∣rant.

Of the other side, who wold shew the honors, haue been by the best sort of iudgemēts granted them, a whole Sea of examples woulde present themselues. Alexanders, Caesars, Scipios, al fauorers

of Poets. Lelius, called the Romane Socrates, him selfe a Poet: so as part of Heautontimorumenon in Terence, was supposed to be made by him. And euen the Greek Socrates, whom Apollo confirmed to be the onely wise man, is sayde to haue spent part of his old time, in putting Esops fables into verses. And therefore, full euill should it become his scholler Plato, to put such words in his Mai∣sters mouth, against Poets. But what need more? Aristotle writes the Arte of Poesie: and why if it should not be written? Plutarch teacheth the vse to be gathered of thē, and how if they should not be read? And who reades Plutarchs eyther historie or philosophy, shall finde, hee trymmeth both theyr garments, with gards of Poesie. But I list not to defend Poesie, with the helpe of her vnderling, Historiography. Let it suffise, that it is a fit soyle for prayse to dwell vpon: and what dis∣praise may set vpon it, is eyther easily ouer-come, or transformed into iust commendation. So that, sith the excellencies of it, may be so easily, and so iustly confirmed, & the low-creeping obiecti∣ons, so soone troden downe; it not being an Art of lyes, but of true doctrine: not of effeminate∣nes, but of notable stirring of courage: not of a∣busing mans witte, but of strengthning mans wit: not banished, but honored by Plato: let vs rather plant more Laurels, for to engarland our Poets heads, (which honor of beeing laureat, as besides thē, onely tryumphant Captaines weare,

is a sufficient authority, to shewe the price they ought to be had in,) then suffer the ill-sauouring breath of such wrong-speakers, once to blowe vpon the cleere springs of Poesie.

But sith I haue runne so long a careere in this matter, me thinks, before I giue my penne a full stop, it shalbe but a little more lost time, to in∣quire, why England, (the Mother of excellent mindes,) should bee growne so hard a step-mo∣ther to Poets, vvho certainly in wit ought to passe all other: sith all onely proceedeth frō their wit, being indeede makers of themselues, not ta∣kers of others. How can I but exclaime,

Musa mihi causas memora, quo numine laeso.

Sweete Poesie, that hath aunciently had Kings, Emperors, Senators, great Captaines, such, as be∣sides a thousand others, Dauid, Adrian, Sophocles, Germanicus, not onely to fauour Poets, but to be Poets. And of our neerer times, can present for her Patrons, a Robert, king of Sicil, the great king Francis of France, king Iames of Scotland. Such Cardinals as Bembus, and Bibiena. Such famous Preachers & Teachers, as Beza and Melancthon. So learned Philosophers, as Fracastorius and Sca∣liger. So great Orators, as Pontanus & Muretus. So piercing wits, as George Buchanan. So graue Counsellors, as besides many, but before all, that Hospitall of Fraunce: then whom, (I thinke) that Realme neuer brought forth a more accom∣plished iudgement: more firmely builded vpon

vertue. I say these, with numbers of others, not onely to read others Poesies, but to poetise for o∣thers reading, that Poesie thus embraced in all o∣ther places, should onely finde in our time, a hard welcome in England, I thinke the very earth la∣menteth it, and therefore decketh our Soyle with fewer Laurels then it was accustomed. For heer∣tofore, Poets haue in England also florished. And which is to be noted, euen in those times, when the trumpet of Mars did sounde loudest. And now, that an ouer-faint quietnes should seeme to strew the house for Poets, they are almost in as good reputation, as the Mountibancks at Venice. Truly euen that, as of the one side, it giueth great praise to Poesie, which like Venus, (but to better purpose,) had rather be troubled in the net with Mars, then enioy the homelie quiet of Vulcan: so serues it for a peece of a reason, why they are lesse gratefull to idle England, which nowe can scarce endure the payne of a pen. Vpon this, ne∣cessarily followeth, that basemen, with seruile wits vndertake it: who think it inough, if they can be rewarded of the Printer. And so as Epa∣minondas is sayd, with the honor of his vertue, to haue made an office; by his exercising it, which before was contemptible, to become highly re∣spected: so these, no more but setting their names to it, by their owne disgracefulnes, dis∣grace the most gracefull Poesie. For now, as if all the Muses were gotte with childe, to bring

foorth bastard Poets, without any commission, they doe poste ouer the banckes of Helicon, tyll they make the readers more weary then Post∣horses: while in the meane tyme, they

Queis meliore luto finxit praecordia Titan,

are better content, to suppresse the out-flowing of their wit, then by publishing them, to bee ac∣counted Knights of the same order. But I, that before euer I durst aspire vnto the dignitie, am admitted into the company of the Paper-blur∣rers, doe finde the very true cause of our wanting estimation, is want of desert: taking vpon vs to be Poets, in despight of Pallas. Nowe, wherein we want desert, were a thanke-worthy labour to expresse: but if I knew, I should haue men∣ded my selfe. But I, as I neuer desired the title, so haue I neglected the meanes to come by it. Onely ouer-mastred by some thoughts, I yeelded an inckie tribute vnto them. Mary, they that delight in Poesie it selfe, should seeke to knowe what they doe, and how they doe; and especial∣ly, looke themselues in an vnflattering Glasse of reason, if they bee inclinable vnto it. For Poe∣sie, must not be drawne by the eares, it must bee gently led; or rather, it must lead. VVhieh was partly the cause, that made the auncient-learned affirme, it was a diuine gift, and no humaine skill: sith all other knowledges, lie ready for any that hath strength of witte: A Poet, no industrie can make, if his owne Genius bee not carried vnto it:

and therefore is it an old Prouerbe, Orator fit; Po∣eta nascitur. Yet confesse I alwayes, that as the fir∣tilest grounde must bee manured, so must the highest flying wit, haue a Dedalus to guide him. That Dedalus, they say, both in this, and in other, hath three wings, to beare it selfe vp into the ayre of due commendation: that is, Arte, Imita∣tion, and Exercise. But these, neyther artificiall rules, nor imitatiue patternes, we much cumber our selues withall. Exercise indeeede wee doe, but that, very fore-backwardly: for where we should exercise to know, wee exercise as hauing knowne: and so is our braine deliuered of much matter, which neuer was begottē by knowledge. For, there being two principal parts, matter to be expressed by wordes, and words to expresse the matter, in neyther, wee vse Arte, or Imitation, rightly. Our matter is Quodlibit indeed, though wrongly perfourming Ouids verse:

(Quicquid conabor discere versus erit:)

neuer marshalling it into an assured rancke, that almost the readers cannot tell where to finde themselues.

Chaucer, vndoubtedly did excellently in hys Troylus and Cresseid; of whom, truly I know not, whether to meruaile more, either that he in that mistie time, could see so clearely, or that wee in this cleare age, walke so stumblingly after him. Yet had he great wants, fitte to be forgiuen, in so reuerent antiquity. I account the Mirrour of

Magistrates, meetely furnished of beautiful parts: and in the Earle of Surries Liricks, many things tasting of a noble birth, and worthy of a noble minde. The Sheapheards Kalender, hath much Poetrie in his Eglogues: indeede worthy the reading if I be not deceiued. That same framing of his stile, to an old rustick language, I dare not alowe, sith neyther Theocritus in Greeke, Virgill in Latine, nor Sanazar in Italian, did affect it. Be∣sides these, doe I not remember to haue seene but fewe, (to speake boldely) printed, that haue poeticall sinnewes in them: for proofe whereof, let but most of the verses bee put in Prose, and then aske the meaning; and it will be found, that one verse did but beget another, without orde∣ring at the first, what should be at the last: which becomes a confused masse of words, with a ting∣ling sound of ryme, barely accompanied with reason.

Our Tragedies, and Comedies, (not without cause cried out against,) obseruing rules, neyther of honest ciuilitie, nor of skilfull Poetrie, excep∣ting Gorboduck, (againe, I say, of those that I haue seene,) which notwithstanding, as it is full of stately speeches, and well sounding Phrases, cly∣ming to the height of Seneca his stile, and as full of notable moralitie, which it doth most delight∣fully teach; and so obtayne the very end of Poe∣sie: yet in troth it is very defectious in the cir∣cumstaunces; which greeueth mee, because it

might not remaine as an exact model of all Trage∣dies. For it is faulty both in place, & time, the two necessary companions of all corporall actions. For where the stage should alwaies represent but one place, and the vttermost time presupposed in it, should be, both by Aristotles precept, and common reason, but one day: there is both many dayes, and many places, inartificially imagined. But if it be so in Gorboduck, how much more in al the rest? where you shal haue Asia of the one side, and Affrick of the other, & so many other vnder-kingdoms, that the Player, when he cōmeth in, must euer begin with telling where he is: or els, the tale wil not be con∣ceiued. Now ye shal haue three Ladies, walke to gather flowers, & then wee must beleeue the stage to be a Garden. By & by, we heare newes of ship∣wracke in the same place, and then wee are to blame, if we accept it not for a Rock.

Vpon the backe of that, comes out a hidious Monster, with fire and smoke, and then the mise∣rable beholders, are bounde to take it for a Caue. VVhile in the meane-time, two Armies flye in, re∣presented with foure swords and bucklers, & then what harde heart wil not receiue it for a pitched fielde? Now, of time they are much more liberall, for ordinary it is that two young Princes fall in loue. After many trauerces, she is got with childe, deliuered of a faire boy, he is lost, groweth a man, falls in loue, & is ready to get another child, and all this in two houres space: which how absurd it is

in sence, euen sence may imagine, and Arte hath taught, and all auncient examples iustified: and at this day, the ordinary Players in Italie, wil not erre in. Yet wil some bring in an example of Eunuchus in Terence, that cōtaineth matter of two dayes, yet far short of twenty yeeres. True it is, and so was it to be playd in two daies, and so fitted to the time it set forth. And though Plautus hath in one place done amisse, let vs hit with him, and not misse with him. But they wil say, how then shal we set forth a story, which containeth both many places, & ma∣ny times? And doe they not knowe, that a Trage∣die is tied to the lawes of Poesie, and not of Histo∣rie? not bound to follow the storie, but hauing li∣berty, either to faine a quite newe matter, or to frame the history, to the most tragicall conuenien∣cie. Againe, many things may be told, which can∣not be shewed, if they knowe the difference be∣twixt reporting and representing. As for example, I may speake, (though I am heere) of Peru, and in speech, digresse from that, to the discription of Ca∣licut: but in action, I cannot represent it without Pacolets horse: and so was the manner the Aunci∣ents tooke, by some Nuncius, to recount thinges done in former time, or other place. Lastly, if they wil represent an history, they must not (as Horace saith) beginne Ab ouo: but they must come to the principall poynt of that one action, which they wil represeut. By example this wil be best expres∣sed. I haue a story of young Polidorus, deliuered

for safeties sake, with great riches, by his Father Priamus, to Polimnestor king of Thrace, in the Tro∣yan war time: Hee after some yeeres, hearing the ouer-throwe of Priamus, for to make the treasure his owne, murthereth the child: the body of the child is taken vp by Hecuba, shee the same day, fin∣deth a slight to bee reuenged most cruelly of the Tyrant: where nowe would one of our Tragedy writers begin, but with the deliuery of the childe? Then should he sayle ouer into Thrace, & so spend I know not how many yeeres, and trauaile num∣bers of places. But where dooth Euripides? Euen with the finding of the body, leauing the rest to be tolde by the spirit of Polidorus. This need no fur∣ther to be inlarged, the dullest wit may conceiue it. But besides these grosse absurdities, how all theyr Playes be neither right Tragedies, nor right Co∣medies: mingling Kings & Clownes, not because the matter so carrieth it: but thrust in Clownes by head & shoulders, to play a part in maiesticall mat∣ters, with neither decencie, nor discretion. So as neither the admiration & commiseration, nor the right sportfulnes, is by their mungrell Tragy-co∣medie obtained. I know Apuleius did some-what so, but that is a thing recounted with space of time, not represented in one moment: & I knowe, the Auncients haue one or two examples of Tra∣gy-comedies, as Plautus hath Amphitrio: But if we marke them well, we shall find, that they neuer, or very daintily, match Horne-pypes and Funeralls.

So falleth it out, that hauing indeed no right Co∣medy, in that comicall part of our Tragedy, wee haue nothing but scurrility, vnwoorthy of any chast eares: or some extreame shew of doltishnes, indeed fit to lift vp a loude laughter, and nothing els: where the whole tract of a Comedy, shoulde be full of delight, as the Tragedy shoulde be still maintained, in a well raised admiration. But our Comedians, thinke there is no delight without laughter, which is very wrong, for though laugh∣ter 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 to∣gether: nay, rather in themselues, they haue as it were, a kind of contrarietie: for delight we scarce∣ly doe, but in things that haue a conueniencie to our selues, or to the generall nature: laughter, al∣most euer commeth, of things most disproporti∣oned to our selues, and nature. Delight hath a ioy in it, either permanent, or present. Laughter, hath onely a scornful tickling.

For example, we are rauished with delight to see a faire woman, and yet are far from being moued to laughter. VVee laugh at deformed creatures, wherein certainely we cannot delight. VVee de∣light in good chaunces, we laugh at mischaunces; we delight to heare the happines of our friends, or Country; at which he were worthy to be laughed at, that would laugh; wee shall contrarily laugh sometimes, to finde a matter quite mistaken, & goe

downe the hill agaynst the byas, in the mouth of some such men, as for the respect of thē, one shalbe hartely sorry, yet he cannot chuse but laugh; & so is rather pained, then delighted with laughter. Yet deny I not, but that they may goe well together, for as in Alexanders picture vvell set out, wee de∣light without laughter, & in twenty mad Anticks we laugh without delight: so in Hercules, painted with his great beard, and furious countenance, in a womans attire, spinning at Omphales commaun∣dement, it breedeth both delight and laughter. For the representing of so strange a power in loue, procureth delight: and the scornefulnes of the ac∣tion, stirreth laughter. But I speake to this purpose, that all the end of the comicall part, bee not vpon such scornefull matters, as stirreth laughter onely: but mixt with it, that delightful teaching which is the end of Poesie. And the great fault euen in that point of laughter, and forbidden plainely by Ari∣stotle, is, that they styrre laughter in sinfull things; which are rather execrable then ridiculous: or in miserable, which are rather to be pittied then scor∣ned. For what is it to make folkes gape at a wret∣ched Begger, or a beggerly Clowne? or against lawe of hospitallity, to iest at straungers, because they speake not English so well as wee doe? what doe we learne, sith it is certaine

(Nil habet infaelix paupertas durius in se,) Quā quod ridiculos homines facit.—

But rather a busy louing Courtier: a hartles threat∣ning

Thraso. A selfe-wise-seeming schoolemaster. A a wry-transformed Traueller. These, if wee sawe walke in stage names, which wee play naturally, therein were delightfull laughter, and teaching delightfulnes: as in the other, the Tragedies of Buchanan, doe iustly bring forth a diuine admirati∣on. But I haue lauished out too many wordes of this play matter. I doe it because as they are excel∣ling parts of Poesie, so is there none so much vsed in England, & none can be more pittifully abused. VVhich like an vnmannerly Daughter, shewing a bad education, causeth her mother Poesies ho∣nesty, to bee called in question. Other sorts of Po∣etry almost haue we none, but that Lyricall kind of Songs and Sonnets: which, Lord, if he gaue vs so good mindes, how well it might be imployed, and with howe heauenly fruite, both priuate and pub∣lique, in singing the prayses of the immortall beau∣ty: the immortall goodnes of that God, who gy∣ueth vs hands to write, and wits to conceiue, of which we might well want words, but neuer mat∣ter, of which, we could turne our eies to nothing, but we should euer haue new budding occasions. But truely many of such writings, as come vnder the banner of vnrelistable loue, if I were a Mistres, would neuer perswade mee they were in loue: so coldely they apply fiery speeches, as men that had rather red Louers writings; and so caught vp cer∣taine swelling phrases, which hang together, like a man which once tolde mee, the winde was at

North, VVest, and by South, because he would be sure to name windes enovve: then that in truth they feele those passions, which easily (as I think) may be bewrayed, by that same forciblenes, or E∣nergia, (as the Greekes cal it) of the writer. But let this bee a sufficient, though short note, that wee misse the right vse of the materiall point of Poe∣sie.

Now, for the out-side of it, which is words, or (as I may tearme it) Diction, it is euē well worse. So is that honny-flowing Matron Eloquence, ap∣parelled, or rather disguised, in a Curtizan-like painted affectation: one time with so farre fette words, that may seeme Monsters: but must seeme straungers to any poore English man. Another tyme, with coursing of a Letter, as if they were bound to followe the method of a Dictionary: an other tyme, with figures and flowers, extreamelie winter-starued. But I would this fault were only peculier to Versifiers, and had not as large posses∣sion among Prose-printers; and, (which is to be meruailed) among many Schollers; and, (which is to be pittied) among some Preachers. Truly I could wish, if at least I might be so bold, to wish in a thing beyond the reach of my capacity, the dili∣gent imitators of Tullie, & Demosthines, (most wor∣thy to be imitated,) did not so much keep, Nizoli∣an Paper-bookes of their figures and phrases, as by attentiue translation (as it were) deuoure them whole, and make them wholy theirs: For nowe

they cast Sugar and Spice, vpon euery dish that is serued to the table; Like those Indians, not con∣tent to weare eare-rings at the fit & naturall place of the eares, but they will thrust Iewels through their nose, and lippes because they will be sure to be fine.

Tullie, when he was to driue out Cateline, as it were with a Thunder-bolt of eloquence, often vsed that figure of repition, Viuit, viuit? imo in Senatum venit &c. Indeed, inflamed with a well∣grounded rage, hee would haue his words (as it were) double out of his mouth: and so doe that artificially, which we see men doe in choller natu∣rally. And wee, hauing noted the grace of those words, hale them in sometime to a familier Epistle, when it were to too much choller to be cholle∣rick. Now for similitudes, in certaine printed dis∣courses, I thinke all Herbarists, all stories of Beasts, Foules, and Fishes, are rifled vp, that they come in multitudes, to waite vpon 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 prooue any thing to a contrary Disputer, but onely to explane to a willing hearer, when that is done, the rest is a most tedious pratling: rather o∣uer-swaying the memory from the purpose wher∣to they were applyed, then any whit informing the iudgement, already eyther satisfied, or by simi∣litudes not to be satis-fied. For my part, I doe not doubt, when Antonius and Crassus, the great fore∣fathers

of Cicero in eloquence, the one (as Cicero testifieth of them,) pretended not to know Arte, the other, not to set by it: because with a playne sensiblenes, they might win credit of popular eares: which credit, is the neerest step to perswa∣sion: which perswasion, is the chiefe marke of O∣ratory; I doe not doubt (I say) but that they v∣sed these tracks very sparingly, which who doth generally vse, any man may see doth daunce to his owne musick: and so be noted by the audience, more careful to speake curiously, then to speake truly.

Vndoubtedly, (at least to my opinion vn∣doubtedly,) I haue found in diuers smally learned Courtiers, a more sounde stile, then in some pro∣fessors of learning: of which I can gesse no other cause, but that the Courtier following that which by practise hee findeth fittest to nature, therein, (though he know it not,) doth according to Art, though not by Art: where the other, vsing Art to shew Art, and not to hide Art, (as in these cases he should doe) flyeth from nature, and indeede abu∣seth Art.

But what? me thinks I deserue to be pounded, for straying from Poetry to Oratorie: but both haue such an affinity in this wordish considerati∣on, that I thinke this digression, will make my meaning receiue the fuller vnderstanding: which is not to take vpon me to teach Poets hovve they should doe, but onely finding my selfe sick among

the rest, to shewe some one or two spots of the common infection, growne among the most part of VVriters: that acknowledging our selues som∣what awry, we may bend to the right vse both of matter and manner; whereto our language gy∣ueth vs great occasion, beeing indeed capable of a∣ny excellent exercising of it. I know, some will say it is a mingled language. And why not so much the better, taking the best of both the other? An∣other will say it wanteth Grammer. Nay truly, it hath that prayse, that it wanteth not Grammer: for Grammer it might haue, but it needes it not; beeing so easie of it selfe, & so voyd of those cum∣bersome differences of Cases, Genders, Moodes, and Tenses, which I thinke was a peece of the Tower of Babilons curse, that a man should be put to schoole to learne his mother-tongue. But for the vttering sweetly, and properly the conceits of the minde, which is the end of speech, that hath it equally with any other tongue in the world: and is particulerly happy, in compositions of two or three words together, neere the Greek, far be∣yond the Latine: which is one of the greatest beauties can be in a language.

Now, of versifying there are two sorts, the one Auncient, the other Moderne: the Auncient mar∣ked the quantitie of each silable, and according to that, framed his verse: the Moderne, obseruing onely number, (with some regarde of the ac∣cent,) the chiefe life of it, standeth in that lyke

sounding of the words, which wee call Ryme. VVhether of these be the most excellent, would beare many speeches. The Auncient, (no doubt) more fit for Musick, both words and tune obser∣uing quantity, and more fit liuely to expresse di∣uers passions, by the low and lofty sounde of the well-weyed silable. The latter likewise, with hys Ryme, striketh a certaine musick to the eare: and in fine, sith it dooth delight, though by another way, it obtaines the same purpose: there beeing in eyther sweetnes, and wanting in neither maiestie. Truely the English, before any other vulgar lan∣guage I know, is fit for both sorts: for, for the An∣cient, the Italian is so full of Vowels, that it must e∣uer be cūbred with Elisions. The Dutch, so of the other side with Cōsonants, that they cannot yeeld the svveet slyding, fit for a Verse. The French, in his whole language, hath not one word, that hath his accent in the last silable, sauing two, called An∣tepenultima, and little more hath the Spanish: and therefore, very gracelesly may they vse Dactiles. The English is subiect to none of these defects.

Nowe, for the ryme, though wee doe not ob∣serue quantity, yet wee obserue the accent very precisely: which other languages, eyther cannot doe, or will not doe so absolutely. That Caesura, or breathing place in the middest of the verse, nei∣ther Italian nor Spanish haue, the French, and we, neuer almost fayle of. Lastly, euen the very ryme it selfe, the Italian cannot put in the last sila∣ble,

by the French named the Masculine ryme, but still in the next to the last, which the French call the Female; or the next before that, which the Italians terme 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, hee hath not: where the English hath all three, as Due, True, Father, Rather, Motion, Potion; with much more which might be sayd, but that I finde already, the triflingnes of this discourse, is much too much enlarged. So that sith the euer-praise-worthy Poesie, is full of vertue-breeding delightfulnes, and voyde of no gyfte, that ought to be in the noble name of lear∣ning: sith the blames laid against it, are either false, or feeble: ••••h the cause why it is not esteemed in Englande, is the fault of Poet-apes, not Poets: sith lastly, our tongue is most fit to honor Poesie, and to bee honored by Poesie, I coniure you all, that haue had the euill lucke to reade this incke∣wasting toy of mine, euen in the name of the nyne Muses, no more to scorne the sacred misteries of Poesie: no more to laugh at the name of Poets, as though they were-next inheritours to Fooles: no more to iest at the reuerent title of a Rymer: but to beleeue with Aristotle, that they were the auncient Treasurers, of the Graecians Diuinity. To beleeue with Bembus, that they were first brin∣gers in of all ciuilitie. To beleeue with Scaliger,

that no Philosophers precepts can sooner 〈◊〉〈◊〉 you an honest man, then the reading of Virgill. beleeue with Clauserus, the Translator of Cornutus that it pleased the heauenly Deitie, by Hesiod and Homer, vnder the vayle of fables, to giue vs all knowledge, Logick, Rethorick, Philosophy, na∣turall, and morrall: and Quid non? To beleeue with me, that there are many misteries contained in Poetrie, which of purpose were written darke∣ly, least by prophane wits, it should bee abused. To beleeue with Landin, that they are so beloued of the Gods, that whatsoeuer they write, pro∣ceeds of a diuine fury. Lastly, to beleeue them∣selues, when they tell you they will make you im∣mortall, by their verses.

Thus doing, your name shal florish in the pri∣ters shoppes; thus doing, you shall but 〈…〉〈…〉many a poeticall Preface; thus doing, you 〈…〉〈…〉most fayre, most ritch, most wise, most a〈…〉〈…〉 shall dwell vpon Superlatiues. Thus do〈…〉〈…〉 though you be Libertino patre natus, you shall 〈◊〉〈◊〉 grow Herculea proles:

Si quid mea carmina possunt.

Thus doing, your soule shal be placed with Dantes Beatrix, or Virgils Anchises. But if, (fie of such a but) you be borne so neere the dull making Cata∣phract of Nilus, that you cannot heare the Plannet∣like Musick of Poetrie, if you haue so earth-cree∣ping a mind, that it cannot lift it selfe vp, to looke to the sky of Poetry: or rather, by a certaine rusti∣call

〈…〉〈…〉daine, will become such a Mome, as to be a 〈…〉〈…〉nus of Poetry: then, though I will not wish 〈…〉〈…〉 you, the Asses cares of Midas, nor to bee dri•••• by a Poets verses, (as Bubonax was) to hang himselfe, nor to be rimed to death, as it is sayd to be doone in Ireland: yet thus much curse I must send you, in the behalfe of all Poets, that while you liue, you liue in loue, and neuer get fauour, for lacking skill of a Sonnet: and when you die, your memory die from the earth, for want of an Epi••••••••h.

FINIS.