A Discourse of English Poetry.  
Together, with the Author's judgement, touching the reformation of our English Verse.  
By William Webbe. Graduate.  
Imprinted at London, by john Charlewood for Robert Walley. 1586.   

To the right worshipful, learned, and most gentle Gentleman, my very good Master, Ma. Edward Suliard, Esquire. W. W. wisheth his heart's desire.  
MAy it please you Sir, this once more to bear with my rudeness, in presenting unto your view, an other slender conceit, of my simple capacity: wherein although I am not able to bring you any thing, which is meet to detain you from your more serious matters: yet upon my knowledge of your former courtesy & your favourable countenance towards all enterprises of Learning, I dare make bold to crave your accustomed patience, in turning over some of these few leaves, which I shall account a greater recompense, than the writing thereof may deserve. The firm hope of your wont gentleness, not any good liking of mine own labour, made me thus presumptuously to crave your worship's patronage for my poor book. A pretty answer is reported by some to be made by Apelles to King Alexander, who (in disport) taking up one of his pensilles to draw a line, & ask the Painters judgement of his draft, It is done (quoth Apelles) like a King: meaning indeed it was drawn as he pleased, but was nothing less than good workmanship. Myself in like sort, taking upon me, to make a draft of English Poetry, and requesting your worships censure of the same, you will perhaps give me this verdict, It was done like a Scholar, meaning, as I could, but indeed more like to a learner, than one through grounded in Poetical workmanship.  
Alexander in drawing his line, leaned sometime too hard, otherwhile too soft, as never having been apprentice to the Art: I in drawing this Poetical discourse, make it some where to strait (leaving out the chief colloures and ornaments of Poetry) in an other place to wide (stuffing in pieces little pertinent to true Poetry) as one never acquainted with the learned Muses. What then? as he being a king, might meddle in what science him listed, though therein he had no skill: so I being a learner, will try my cunning in some parts of Learning, though never so simple.  
Now, as for my saucy pressing upon your expected favour in craving your judgement, I beseech you let me make this excuse: that whereas true Gentility did never withdraw her loving affection from lovely Lady Learning, so I am persuaded, that your worship cannot choose, but continue your wont favourable benignity towards all the indevourers to learning, of which corporation I do indeed profess myself one silly member.  
For sith the writers of all ages, have sought as an undoubted Bulwark and steadfast safeguard the patronage of nobility, (a shield as sure as can be to learning) wherein to shroud and safely place their several inventions: why should not I seek some harbour for my poor travel to rest and stay upon, being of itself unable to shift the carping cavils and biting scorns of lewd controllers?  
And in truth, where might I rather choose a sure defence and ready refuge for the same, then where I see perfect Gentilitye, and nobleness of mind, to be fast linked with excellency of learning and affable courtesy? Moreover, add this to the end of mine excuse: that I send it into your sight, not as any witty piece of work that may delight you: but being a sleight somewhat compiled for recreation, in the intermyssions of my daily business, even this Summer Eueninges) as a token of that earnest and unquenchable desire I have to show myself dutiful and welwylling towards you. Whereunto I am continually inflamed more and more, when I consider either your favourable friendship used towards myself, or your gentle countenance showed to my simple traveles. The one I have tried in that homely translation I presented unto you: the other I find true in your courteous putting to my trust, and doing me so great honesty and credit, with the charge of these toward young Gentlemen your sons.  
To which pregnant imps of right excellent hope, I would I were able, or you might have occasion to make trial of my loving mind: who should well perceive myself to remain unto them a faithful and trusty Achates, even so far as my wealth my woe, my power or peril, my pen or wit, my health or life may serve to search mine ability.  
Huge heaps of words I might pile together to trouble you withal: either of myself or of my doings, (as some do) or of your worships commendable virtues (as the most do) But I purposely choose rather to let pass the spreading of that worthy fame which you have ever deserved, then to run in suspicion of fawning flattery which I ever abhorred.  
Therefore once again craving your gentle pardon, and patience in your overlooking this rude Epistle: and wishing more happiness than my pen can express to you and your whole retinue, I rest.  
Your worships faithful Servant. W. W.   

A Preface to the noble Poets of England.  
AMong the innumerable sorts of english Books, and infinite farthels of printed pamphlets; wherewith this Country is pestered, all shops stuffed, and every study furnished: the greatest part I think in any one kind, are such as are either mere Poetical, or which tend in some respect (as either in matter or form) to Poetry. Of such Books therefore, sith I have been one, that have had a desire to read not the fewest, and because it is an argument, which men of great learning have no leisure to handle, or at the least having to do with more serious matters do least regard: If I writ something, concerning what I think of our English Poets, or adventure to set down my simple judgement of English Poetry, I trust the learned Poets will give me leave, and vouchsafe my Book passage, as being for the rudeness thereof no prejudice to their noble studies, but even (as my intent is) an instar cotis to stir up some other of meet ability, to bestow travel in this matter: whereby I think we may not only get the means which we yet want, to discern between good writers and bad, but perhaps also challenge from the rude multitude of rustical Rymers, who will be called Poets, the right practice and orderly course of true Poetry.  
It is to be wondered at of all, and is lamented of many, that where as all kind of good learning, have aspired to royal dignity and stately grace in our English tongue, being not only founded, defended, maintained, and enlarged, but also purged from faults, weeded of errors, & polished from barbarousness, by men of great authority and judgement: only Poetry hath found fewest friends to amend it, those that can, reserving their skill to themselves, those that cannot, running headlong upon it, thinking to garnish it with their devices, but more corrupting it with fantastical errors. What should be the cause, that our English speech in some of the wyfest men's judgements, hath never attained to any sufficient ripeness, nay not full avoided the reproach of barbarousness in Poetry? the rudeness of the Country, or baseness of wits: or the course Dialect of the speech? experience utterly disproveth it to be any of these: what then? surely the cankered enmity of curious custom: which as it never was great friend to any good learning, so in this hath it grounded in the most, such a negligent persuasion of an impossibility in matching the best, that the finest wits and most divine heads, have contented themselves with a base kind of fingering: rather debasing their faculties, in setting forth their skill in the coarsest manner, then for breaking custom, they would labour to adorn their Country and advance their style with the highest & most learnedst top of true Poetry. The rudeness or unaptness of our Country to be either none or no hindrance, if reformation were made accordingly, the exquisite excellency in all kinds of good learning now flourishing among us, inferior to none other nation, may sufficiently declare.  
That there be as sharp and quick wits in England, as ever were among the peerless Grecians, or renowned Romans, it were a note of no wit at all in me to deny. And is our speech so course, or our phrase so harsh, that Poetry cannot therein find a vain whereby it may appear like itself? why should we think so basely of this? rather then of her sister, I mean rhetorical Elocution, which as they were by birth Twins, by kind the same, by original of one descent: so no doubt, as Eloquence hath found such favourers, in the English tongue, as she frequenteth not any more gladly so would poetry if there were the like welcome and entertainment given her by our English Poets, without question aspire to wonderful perfection and appear far more gorgeous and delectable among us. Thus much I am bold to say in behalf of Poetry, not that I mean to call in question the reverend and learned works of Poetry, written in our tongue by men of rare judgement, and most excellent Poets: but even as it were by way of supplication to the famous and learned laureate Masters of England, that they would but consult one half hour with their heavenly Muse, what credit they might win to their native speech, what enormities they might wipe out of English Poetry, what a fit vain they might frequent, wherein to show forth their worthy faculties: if English Poetry were truly reform, and some perfect platform or Prosodia of versifying were by them ratified and set down: either in imitation of Greeks and Latins, or where it would scant abide the touch of their Rules, the like observations selected and established by the natural affectation of the speech. Thus much I say, not to persuade you that are the favourers of English Poetry but to move it to you: being not the first that have thought upon this matter, but one that by consent of others, have taken upon me to lay it once again in your ways, if perhaps you may stumble upon it, and chance to look so low from your divine cogitations, when your Muse mounteth to the stars, and ransacketh the Spheres of heaven: whereby perhaps you may take compassion of noble Poetry, pitifully mangled and defaced, by rude smatterers and barbarous immitatours of your worthy studies. If the motion be worthy your regard it is enough to move it, if not, my words would sim, ply prevail in persuading you, and therefore I rest upon this only request, that of your courtesies, you will grant passage, under your favourable corrections, for this my simple censure of English Poetry, wherein if you please to run it over, you shall know briefly mine opinion of the most part of our accustomed Poets, and particularly in his place, the little somewhat which I have sifted out of my weak brain concerning this reformed verfifying.  
W: W:   

A Discourse of English Poetry.  
INtending to write some discourse of English Poetry, I think it not amiss if I speak something generally of Poetry, as, what it is, whence it had the beginning, and of what estimation it hath always been and aught to be among all sorts of people. Poetry called in Greek 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, being derived from the verb 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which signifieth in Latin facere in English, to make, may properly be defined, the art of making: which word as it hath always been especially used of the best of our English Poets, to express that very faculty of speaking or writing Poetically: so doth it in deed contain most fitly the whole grace and property of the same, ye more fully and effectually then any other English verb. That Poetry is an Art, (or rather a more excellent thing than can be contained within the compass of Art) though I need not stand long to prove, both the witness of Horace, who wrote de art Poetica, and of Terence, who calleth it Artem Musicam, and the very natural property thereof may sufficiently declare: The beginning of it as appeareth by Plato, was of a virtuous and most devout purpose, who witnesseth, that by occasion of meeting of a great company of young men, to solemnize the feasts which were called Panegeryca, and were wont to be celebrated every fift year, there, they that were most pregnant in wit, and endued with great gifts of wisdom & knowledge in Music above the rest did use commonly to make goodly verses, measured according to the sweetest notes of Music, containing the praise of some noble virtue, or of immortality, or of some such thing of greatest estimation: which unto them seemed, so heavenly and joyous a thing, that, thinking such men to be inspired with some divine instinct from heaven, they called them Vates. So when other among them of the finest wits and aptest capacities began in imitation of these to frame ditties of lighter matters, and tuning them to the stroke of some of the pleasantest kind of Music, then began there to grow a distinction and great diversity between makers and makers. Whereby (I take it) began this difference: that they which handled in the audience of the people, grave and necessary matters, were called wise men or eloquent men, which they meant by Uates: and the rest which sang of love matters, or other lighter devices alluring unto pleasure and delight, were called Poetae or makers. Thus it appeareth, both Eloquence and Poetry to have had their beginning and original from these exercises, being framed in such sweet measure of sentences & pleasant harmonic called 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is an apt composition of words or clauses, drawing as it were by force the hearers ears even whether soever it listeth: that Plato affirmeth therein to be contained 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an enchantment, as it were to persuade them any thing whether they would or no. And herehence is said, that men were first withdrawn from a wild and savage kind of life, to civility and gentleness, and the right knowledge of humanity by the force of this measurable or tunable speaking.  
This opinion shall you find confirmed throughout the whole works of Plato and Aristotle. And that such was the estimation of this Poetry at those times, that they supposed all wisdom and knowledge to be included mystically in that divine instinction, wherewith they thought their Uates to be inspired. Whereupon, throughout the noble works of those most excellent Philosophers before named, are the authorities of Poets very often alleged▪ And Cicero in his Tusculane questions is of that mind, that a Poet cannot express verses abundantly, sufficiently, and fully, neither his eloquence can flow pleasantly, or his words sound well and plenteously, without celestial instinction: which Poets themselves do very often and gladly witness of themselves, as namely Ovid in 6. Fasto: Est deus in nobis agitant callescimus illo. etc. Whereunto I doubt not equally to adjoin the authority of our late famous English Poet, who wrote the shepherds Calendar, where lamenting the decay of Poetry, at these days, saith most sweetly to the same. 
Then make thee wings of thine aspiring wit,  
And whence thou camest fly back to heaven apace. etc.   
Whose fine poetical wit, and most exquisite learning, as he showed abundantly in that piece of work, in my judgement inferior to the works neither of Theocritus in Greek, nor Virgil in Latin, whom he narrowly immitateth: so I nothing doubt, but if his other works were common abroad, which are as I think in the close custody of certain his friends, we should have of our own Poets, whom we might match in all respects with the best. And among all other his works whatsoever, I would wish to have the sight of his English Poet, which his friend E. K. did once promise to publish, which whether he performed or not, I know not, if he did, my hap hath not been so good as yet to see it.  
But to return to the estimation of Poetry. Besides the great and profitable fruits contained in Poetry, for the instruction of manners and precepts of good life (for that was chiefly respected in the first age of Poetry) this is also added to the eternal commendations of that noble faculty: that Kings and Princes, great and famous men, did ever encourage, maintain, and reward Poets in all ages: because they were thought only to have the whole power in their hands, of making men either immortally famous for their valiant exploits and virtuous exercises, or perpetually infamous for their vicious lives. Whereupon it is said of Achilles, that this only vantage he had of Hector, that it was his fortune to be extolled and remowned by the heavenly verse of Homer. And as Tully recordeth to be written of Alexander, that with natural tears he wept over Achilles' Tomb, in joy that he conceived at the consideration, how it was his hap to be honoured with so divine a work, as Homer's was. Aristotle, a most prudent and learned Philosopher, being appointed Schoolmaster to the young Prince Alexander, thought no work so meet to be read unto a King, as the work of Homer: wherein the young Prince being by him instructed thoroughly, sound such wonderful delight in the same when he came to maturity, that he would not only have it with him in all his journeys, but in his bed also under his pillow, to delight him and teach him both nights and days. The same is reported of noble Scipio, who finding the two Books of Homer in the spoil of King Darius, esteemed them as wonderful precious jewels, making one of them his companion for the night, the other for the day. And not only was he thus affected to the one piece or part of Poetry, but so generally he loved the professors thereof, that in his most serious affairs, and hottest wars against Numantia and Carthage, he could no whit be without that old Poet Ennius in his company. But to speak of all those noble and wise Princes, who bore special favour and countenance to Poets, were tedious, and would require a rehearsal of all such, in whose time there grew any to credit and estimation in that faculty. Thus far therefore may suffice for the estimation of Poets. Now I think most meet, to speak somewhat, concerning what hath been the use of Poetry, and wherein it rightly consisted, and whereof consequently it obtained such estimation.  
To begin therefore with the first that was first worthily memorable in the excellent gift of poetry, the best writers agree that it was Orpheus, who by the sweet gift of his heavenly Poetry, withdrew men from ranging uncertainly, and wandering brutishly about, and made them gather together, and keep company, made houses, and kept fellowship together, who therefore is reported (as Horace saith) to assuage the fierceness of Tigers, and move the hard Flynts. After him was Amphion, who was the first that caused Cities to be builded, and men therein to live decently and orderly according to law and right. Next, was Tyrtaeus, who began to practise warlike defences, to keep back enemies, and save themselves from invasion of foes. In this place I think were most convenient to rehearse that ancient Poet Pyndarus: but of the certain time wherein he flourished, I am not very certain: but of the place where he continued most, it should seem to be the City of Thebes, by Pliny who reporteth, that Alexander in sacking the same City, would not suffer the house wherein he dwelled to be spoiled as all the rest were. After these was Homer, who as it were in one sum comprehended all knowledge, wisdom, learning, and policy, that was incident to the capacity of man. And who so list to take view of his two Books, one of his Iliads, the other his Odissea, shall thoroughly perceive what the right use of Poetry is: which indeed is to mingle profit with pleasure, and so to delight the Reader with pleasantness of his Art, as in the mean time, his mind may be well instructed with knowledge and wisdom. For so did that worthy Poet frame those his two works, that in reading the first, that is his Iliads, by declaring and setting forth so lively the Grecians assembly against Troy, together with their prowess and fortitude against their foes, a Prince shall learn not only courage, and valiantness, but discretion also and policy to encounter with his enemies, yea a perfect form of wise consultations, with his Captains, and exhortations to the people, with other infinite commodities.  
Again, in the other part, wherein are described the manifold and dangerous adventures of Ulysses, may a man learn many noble virtues: and also learn to escape and avoid the subtle practices, and perilous entrappinges of naughty persons: and not only this, but in what sort also he may deal to know and perceive the affections of those which be near unto him, and most familiar with him, the better to put them in trust with his matters of weight and importance. Therefore I may boldly set down this to be the truest, ancientest and best kind of Poetry, to direct one's endeavour always to that mark, that with delight they may evermore adjoin commodity to their Readers: which because I ground upon Homer the Prince of all Poets, therefore have I alleged the order of his work, as an authority sufficiently proving this assertion.  
Now what other Poets which followed him, and been of greatest fame, have done for the most part in their several works, I will briefly, and as my slender ability will serve me declare. But by my leave, I must content myself to speak not of all, but of such as myself have seen, and been best acquainted withal, and those not all nor the most part of the ancient Grecians, of whom I know not how many there were, but these of the Latinists, which are of greatest fame and most obvious among us.  
Thus much I can say, that Aristotle reporteth none to have greatly flourished in Gréece, at least wise not left behind them any notable memorial, before the time of Homer. And Tully saith as much, that there were none writ worth the reading twice in the Roman tongue, before the Poet Ennius. And surely as the very sum or chiefest essence of Poetry, did always for the most part consist in delighting the readers or hearers with pleasure, so as the number of Poets increased, they still inclined this way rather than the other, so that most of them had special regard, to the pleasantness of their fine conceits, whereby they might draw men's minds into admiration of their inventions, more than they had to the profit or commodity that the Readers should reap by their works. And thus as I suppose came it to pass among them, that for the most part of them, they would not write one work contayving some serious matter: but for the same they would likewise power forth as much of some wanton or lascivious invention. Yet some of the ancientest sort of Grecians, as it seemeth were not so much disposed to vain delectation: as Aristotle saith of Empedocles, that in his judgement he was only a natural Philosopher, no Poet at all, nor that he was like unto Homer in any thing but his meeter, or number of feet, that is, that he wrote in verse. After the time of Homer, there began the first Comedy writers, who compiled their works in a better style which continued not long, before it was erpelled by penalty, for scoffing too broad at men's manners, and the privy revengements which the Poets used against their ill willers. Among these was Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophenes, but afterward the order of this writing Comedies was reform and made more plausible: then writ Plato, Comicus, Menander, and I know not who more.  
There be many most profitable works, of like antiquity, or rather before them, of the Tragedy writers: as of Euripides, and Sophocles, than was there Phocitides and Theagines, with many other: which Tragedies had their invention by one Thespis, and were polished and amended by AEschitus. The profit or discommodity which ariseth by the use of these Comedies and Tragedies, which is most, hath been long in controversy, and is sore urged among us at these days: what I think of the same, perhaps I shall briefly declare anon.  
Now concerning the Poets which wrote in homely manner, as they pretended, but indeed, with great pith and learned judgement, such as were the writers of shepherds talk and of husbandly precepts, who were among the Grecians that excelled, besides Theocritus and Hesiodus I know not, of whom the first, what profitable works he left to posterity, besides his Idillia, or contentions of Goteheards, tending most to delight, and pretty inventions, I can not tell. The other, no doubt for his Argument he took in hand, dealt very learnedly and profitably, that is, in precepts of Husbandry, but yet so as he mired much wanton stuff among the rest.  
The first writers of Poetry among the Latins, should seem to be those, which excelled in the framing of Comedies, and that they continued a long time without any notable memory of other Poets. Among whom, the chiefest that we may see or hear tell of, were these. Ennins, Caecilius, Naevius, Licinius, Attilius, Turpitius, Trabea, Luscius, Plautus, & Terens, Of whom these two last named, have been ever since their time most famous, and to these days are esteemed, as great helps and furtherances to the obtaining of good Letters. But here cannot I stay to speak of the most famous, renowned and excellent, that ever writ among the Latin Poets, P. Virgil, who performed the very same in that tongue, which Homer had done in Greek: or rather better if better might as Sex. Propert. in his Elegies gallantly recordeth in his praise. Nescio quid magis nascitur Iliad. Under the person of AEneas he expresseth the valour of a worthy Captain and valiant Governor, together with the perilous adventures of war, and politic devices at all assays. And as he immitateth Homer in that work, so doth he likewise follow the very steps of Theocritus, in his most pithy inventions of his AEglogues: and likewise Hesiodus in his Georgics or books of Husbandry, but yet more gravely, and in a more decent style. But not withstanding his sage gravity and wonderful wisdom, did he not altogether restrain his vain, but that he would have a razed at some wanton and scant comely an Argument, if indeed such trifles as be fathered upon him were his own. There followed after him, very many rare and excellent Poets, whereof the most part writ light matters, as Epigrams and Elegies, with much pleasant dalliance, among whom may be accounted Propertius, Tibullus, Catullus, with divers whom Ovid speaketh of in divers places of his works. Then are there two Historical Poets, no less profitable than delightsome to be read: Silius and Lucanus: the one declaring the valiant prowess of two noble Captains, one enemy to the other, that is, Scipio and Hamball: the other likewise, the fortitude of two expert warriors (yet more lamentably than the other because these wars were civil) Pompey and Caesar. The next in time (but as most men do account, and so did he himself) the second in dignity, we well adjoin Ovid, a most learned, and erquisite Poet. The work of greatest profit which he wrote, was his Book of Metamorphosis, which though it consisted of feigned Fables for the most part, and poetical inventions, yet being moralised according to his meaning, and the truth of every tale being discovered, it is a work of exceeding wisdom and sound judgement. If one list in like manner, to have knowledge and perfect intelligence of those rites and ceremonies which were observed after the Religion of the Heathen, no more profitable work for that purpose, than his bookess De fastis. The rest of his doings, though they tend to the vain delights of love and dalliance (except his Tristibus, wherein he bewaileth his exile) yet surely are mixed with much good counsel and profitable lessons if they be wisely and narrowly read. After his time I know no work of any great fame, till the time of Horace, a Poet not of the smoothest style, but in sharpness of wit inferior to none, and one to whom all the rest both before his time and since, are very much beholding. About the same time were Juvenal and Persius, then Martial, Seneca a most excellent writer of Tragedies, Boetius, Lucretius, Statius, Val: Fiaccus, Manilius, Ausonius, Claudian, and many other, whose just times and several works to speak of in this place, were neither much needful, nor altogether tolerable, because I purposed an other argument. Only. I will add two of later times, yet not far inferior to the most of them aforesaid, Pallengenius, and Bap: Man●uanus, and for a singular gift in a sweet Heroical verse, match with them Chr. Oclan. the Author of our Anglorum Praelia But now lest I stray too far from my puopose, I will come to our English Poets, to whom I would I were able to yield their deserved commendations: and afford them that censure, which I know many would, which can better, if they were now to write in my steed.  
I know no memorable work written by any Poet in our English speech, until twenty years past: where although Learning was not generally decayed at any time, especially since the Conquest of King William Duke of Normandy, as it may appear by many famous works & learned books (though not of this kind) written by bishops and others: yet surely that Poetry was in small price among them, it is very manifest, and no great marvel, for even that light of Grieke and Latin Poets which they had, they much contemned, as appeareth by their rude versifying, which of long time was used (a barbarous use it was) wherein they converted the natural property of the sweet Latin verse, to be a bald kind of rhyming, thinking nothing to be learnedly written in verse, which fell not out in rhyme, that is, in words whereof the middle word of each verse should sound a like with the last, or of two verses, the end of both should fall in the like letters, as thus. 
O malè viventes, versus audite sequentes.  And thus likewise. 
Propter haec et alia dogmata doctorum.  
Reor esse melius et magis decorum:  
Quisque suam habeat, et non proximorum.   
This brutish Poetry, though it had not the beginning in this Country, yet so hath it been affected here, that the infection thereof would never (nor I think ever will) be rooted up again: I mean this tynkerly verse which we call rhyme: Master Ascham saith, that it first began to be followed and maintained among the Huns and Gothians, and other barbarous Nations, who with the decay of all good learning, brought it into Italy: from thence it came into France, and so to Germany, at last conveyed into England, by men indeed of great wisdom and learning, but not considerate nor circum spect in that behalf. But of this I must entreat more hereafter.  
Henry the first King of that name in England, is wonderfully ertolled, in all ancient Records of memory, for his singular good learning, in all kind of noble studies, in so much as he was named by his surname Beaucleark, as much to say, as Fayreclerke (whereof perhaps came the name of Fayreclowe) what knowledge he attained in the skill of Poetry, I am not able to say, I report his name for proof, that learning in this Country was not little esteemed of at that rude time, and that like it is, among other studies, a King would not neglect the faculty of Poetry. The first of our English Poets that I have heard of, was john Gower, about the time of king Richard the second, as it should seem by certain conjectures both a Knight, and questionless a singular well learned man: whose works I could wish they were all whole and perfect among us, for no doubt they contained very much deep knowledge and delight: which may be gathered by his friend Chawcer, who speaketh of him oftentimes, in diver places of his works. Chawcer, who for that excellent fame which he obtained in his Poetry, was always accounted the God of English Poets (such a title for honour's sake hath been given him) was nert after, if not equal in time to Gower: and hath left many works, both for delight and profitable knowledge, far exceeding any other that as yet ever s●●●e his time directed their studies that way. Though the manner of his style may seem blunt & course to many fine English ears at these days, yet in truth, if it be equally pondered, and with good judgement advised, and confirmed with the time wherein he wrote, a man shall perceive thereby even a true picture or perfect shape of a right Poet. He by his delightsome vain, so gulled the ears of men with his devices, that, although corruption bore such sway in most matters, that learning and truth might scant be admitted to show itself, yet without controlment, might he gird at the vices and abuses of all states, and gall with very sharp and eager inventions, which he did so learnedly and pleasantly, that none therefore would call him into question. For such was his bold spirit, that what enormities he saw in any, he would not spare to pay them home, either in plain words, or else in some pretty and pleasant covert, that the simplest might espy him.  
Near in time unto him was Lydgate a Poet, surely for good proportion of his verse, and meetly currant style, as the time afforded comparable with Chawcer, yet more occupied in superstitious and odd matters, than was requesite in so good a wit: which, though he handled them commendably, yet the matters themselves being not so commendable, his estimation hath been the less. The next of our ancient Poets, that I can tell of, I suppose to be Pierce Ploughman, who in his doings is somewhat harsh and obscure, but indeed a very pithy writer, and (to his commendation I speak it) was the first that I have seen, that observed the quantity of our verse without the curiosity of Rhyme.  
Since these I know none other till the time of Skelton, who writ in the time of king Henry the eight, who as indeed he obtained the Laurel-garland, so may I with good right yield him the title of a Poet: he was doubtless a pleasant conceited fellow, and of a very sharp wit, exceeding bold, and would nip to the very quick where he once set hold. Next him I think I may place master George Gaskoyne, as pain full a Soldier in the affairs of his Prince and Country, as he was a witty Poet in his writing: whose commendations, because I found in one of better judgement than myself, I will set down his words, and suppress mine own, of him thus writeth E. K. upon the ninth Eclogue of the new Poet.  
Master George Gaskoyne a witty Gentleman, and the very chief of our late rymers, who and if some parts of learning wanted not (albeit is well known he altogether wanted not learning) no doubt would have attained to the excellency of those famous Poets. For gifts of wit, and natural promptness appear in him abundantly. I might next speak of the divers works of the old Earl of Surrey: of the L. Vaus, of Norton, of Bristol, Edwardes, Tusser, Churchyard. Wyl: Hunnis: Heywood: Sand: hill: S. Y. M. D. and many others, but to speak of their several gifts, and abundant skill showed forth by them in many pretty and learned works, would make my discourse much more tedious.  
I may not omit the deserved commendations of many honourable and noble Lords, and Gentlemen, in her majesties Court, which in the rare devices of Poetry, have been and yet are most excellent skilful, among whom, the right honourable Earl of Oxford may challenge to himself the title of the most excellent among the rest. I can no longer forget those learned Gentlemen which took such profitable pains in translating the Latin Poets into our English tongue, whose deserts in that behalf are more than I can utter. Among these, I ever esteemed, and while I live, in my conceit I shall account Master D. Phaer: without doubt the best: who as indeed he had the best piece of Poetry whereon to set a most gallant verse, so performed he it accordingly, and in such sort, as in my conscience I think would scarcely be done again, if it were to do again. Notwithstanding, I speak it but as mine own fancy, not prejudicial to those that list to think otherwise. His work whereof I speak, is the englishing of AEneidos of Virgil, so far forth as it pleased God to spare him life, which was to the half part of the tenth Book, the rest being since with no less commendations finished, by that worthy scholar and famous Physician Master Thomas Twine.  
Equally with him may I well adjoin Master Arthur Golding, for his labour in englishing Ovid's Metamorphosis, for which Gentleman, surely our Country hath for many respects greatly to give God thanks: as for him which hath taken infinite pains without ceasing, traveleth as yet indefatigably, and is addicted without society, by his continual labour, to profit this nation and speech in all kind of good learning. The next, very well deserveth Master Barnaby Googe to be placed, as a painful furtherer of learning: his help to Poetry besides his own devices, as the translating of Pallengenius. Lodiac. Abraham Fleming as in many pretty Poesis of his own, so in translating hath done to his commendations. To whom I would here adjoin one of his name, whom I know to have excelled, as well in all kind of learning as in Poetry most especially, and would appear so, if the dainty morsels, and fine poetical inventions of his, were as common abroad as I know they be among some of his friends. I will crave leave of the laudable Authors of Seneca in English, of the other parts of Ovid, of Horace, of Mantuan, and divers other, because I would hasten to end this rehearsal, perhaps offensive to some, whom either by forgetfulness, or want of knowledge, I must needs over pass.  
And once again, I am humbly to desire pardon of the learned company of Gentlemen Scholars, and students of the Universities, and Inns of Court, if I omit their several commendations in this place, which I know a great number of them have worthily deserved, in many rare devices, and singular inventions of Poetry: for neither hath it been my good hap, to have seen all which I have heard of, neither is my abiding in such place, where I can with facility get knowledge of their works.  
One Gentleman notwithstanding among them may I not over slip, so far reacheth his fame, and so worthy is he, if he have not already, to wear the Laurel wreath, Master George Whetstone, a man singularly well skilled in this faculty of Poetry: To him I will join Anthony Monday, an earnost traveler in this art, and in whose name I have seen very excellent works, among which surely, the most exquisite vain of a witty poetical head is showed in the sweet sobs of shepherds and Nymphs: a work well worthy to be viewed, and to be esteemed as very rare Poetry. With these I may place john grange, Knight, Wylmott, Darrell, F. C. F. K. G. B. and many other, whose names come not now to my remembrance.  
This place have I purposely reserved for one, who if not only, yet in my judgement principally deserveth the title of the rightest English Poet, that ever I read: that is, the Author of the shepherds Calendar, entitled to the worthy Gentleman Master Philip Sidney: whether it was Master Sp. or what rare Scholar in Pembroke Hall soever, because himself and his friends, for what respect I know not, would not reveal it, I force not greatly to set down: sorry I am that I can not find none other with whom I might couple him in this Catalogue, in his rare gift of Poetry: although one there is, though now long since, seriously occupied in graver studies, (Master Gabriel Harvey) yet, as he was once his most special friend and fellow Poet, so because he hath taken such pains, not only in his Latin Poetry (for which he enjoyed great come mendations of the best both in judgement and dignity in this Realm) but also to reform our English verse, and to beautify the same with brave devices, o which I think the chief lie bid in hateful obscurity: therefore will I adventure to set them together, as two of the rarest wits, and learnedst masters of Poetry in England. Whose worthy and notable skill in this faculty, I would wish if their high dignities and serious businesses would permit, they would still grant to be a furtherance to that reformed kind of Poetry, which Master Harvey did once begin to ratify: and surely in mine opinion, if he had chosen some graver matter, and handled but with half that skill, which I know he could have done, and not powered it forth at a venture, as a thing between jest and earnest, it had taken greater effect than it did.  
As for the other Gentleman, if it would please him or his friends to let those excellent Poems, whereof I know he hath plenty, come abroad, as his Dreams, his Legends, his Court of Cupid, his English Poet with other: he should not only stay the rude pens of myself and others, butalso satisfy the thirsty desires of many which desire nothing more, then to see more of his rare inventions. If I join to Master Harvey his two Brethren, I am assured, though they be both busied with great and weighty callings (the one a godly and learned Divine, the other a famous and skilful Physician) yet if they listed to set to their helping hands to Poetry, they would as much beautify and adorn it as any others.  
If I let pass the uncountable rabble of rhyming Ballet makers, and compylers of senseless sonnets, who be most busy, to stuff every stall full of gross devices and unlearned Pamphlets: I trust I shall with the best sort be held excused. For though many such can frame an Alehouse song of five or six score verses, hobbling upon some tune of a Northern jygge, or Robin hood, or La lubber etc. And perhaps observe just number of syllables, eight in one line, six in an other, and there withal an A to make a iercke in the end: yet if these might be accounted Poets (as it is said some of them make means to be promoted to the Laurel) surely we shall shortly have whole swarms of Poets: and every one that can frame a Book in Rhyme, though for want of matter, it be but in commendations of Copper noses or Bottle Ale, will catch at the Garland due to Poets: whose potticall poetical (I should say) heads, I would wish, at their worshipful comencements might in steed of Laurel; be gorgeously garnished with fair green Barley, in token of their good affection to our English Malt. One speaketh thus homely of them, with whose words I will content myself for this time, because I would not be too broad with them in mine own speech.  
In regard (he meaneth of the learned framing the new Poets works which writ the Shepherds' Calendar.) I scorn and spew out the rakehelly rout of our ragged Kymers, (for so themselves use to hunt the Letter) which without learning boast, without judgement jangle, without reason rage and fume, as if some instinct of poetical spirit had newly ranished them, above the meanness of common capacity. And being in the midst of all their bravery, suddenly for want of matter or of Kyme, or having forgotten their former conceit, they seem to be so pained and traveled in their remembrance, as it were a woman in Chyldbyrth, or as that same Pythia when the trance came upon her. Os rabidum fera corda domans etc.  
THus far forth have I adventured to set down part of my simple judgement concerning those Poets, with whom for the most part I have been acquainted through mine own reading: which though it may seem something impertinent to the title of my Book, yet I trust the courteous Keaders will pardon me, considering that poetry is not of that ground and antiquity in our English tongue, but that speaking thereof only as it is English, would seem like unto the drawing of one's picture without a head.  
Now therefore by your gentle patience, will I with like brevity make trial, what I can say concerning our English Poetry, first in the matter thereof, then in the form, that is, the manner of our verse: yet so as I must evermore have recourse to those times and writers, whereon the English poetry taketh as it were the descent and propriety. English Poetry therefore being considered according to common custom and ancient use, is, where any work is learned lie compiled in measurable speech, and framed in words containing number or proportion of just syllables, delighting the readers or hearers as well by the apt and decent framing of words in equal resemblance of quantity, commonly called verse, as by the skyllfull handling of the matter whereof it is entreated. I spoke somewhat of the beginning of this measuring of words in just number, taken out of Plato: and indeed the regard of true quantity in Letters and syllables, seemeth not to have been much urged before the time of Homer in Gréece, as Aristotle witnesseth.  
The matters whereof verses were first made, were either erhortations to virtue, dehortations from vices, or the praises of some laudable thing. From thence they began to use them in erercises of imitating some virtuous and wise man at their feasts: where as some one should be appointed to represent an other man's person of high estimation, and he sang fine ditties and witty sentences, tunably to their Music notes. Of this sprang the first kind of Comedies, when they began to bring into these ercercises, more persons than one, whose speeches were devised Dialogue wise, in answering one another. And of such like erercises, or as some will needs have it, long before the other, began the first Tragedies, and were so called of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, because the Adorni when he began to play his part, slew and offered a Goat to their Goddess: but Comedies took their name of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 comessatum ire; to go a feasting, because they used to go in procession with their sport about the Cities and Villages, mingling much pleasant mirth with their grave Religion, and feasting cheerfully together with as great joy as might be devised. But not long after (as one delight draweth another) they began to invent new persons and new matters for their Comedies, such as the devisers thought meetest to please the people's vain: And from these, they began to present in shapes of men, the natures of virtues and vices, and affections and qualities incident to men, as Justice, Temperance, Poverty, Wrath, vengeance, Sloth, Ualiantnes and such like; as may appear by the ancient works of Aristophanes. There grew at last to be a greater diversity between Tragedy writers and Comedy writers, the one expressing only sorrowful and lamentable Histories, bringing in the persons of Gods and Goddesses, Kings and Queens, and great states, whose parts were chiefly to express most miserable calamities, and dreadful chances, which increased worse and worse, till they came to the most woeful plight that might be devised.  
The Comedies on the other side, were directed to a contrary end, which beginning doubtfully, drew to some trouble or turmoil, and by some lucky chance always ended to the joy and appeasement of all parties. This distinction grew as some hold opinion, by imitation of the works of Homer: for out of his Iliads, the Tragedy writers found dreadful events, whereon to frame their matters, and the other out of his Odyssea took arguments of delight, and pleasant ending after dangerous and troublesome doubts. So that, though there be many sorts of poetical writings, and Poetry is not debarred from any matter, which may be expressed by pen or speech, yet for the better understanding, and bréefer method of this discourse, I may comprehend the same in three sorts, which are, Comical, Tragical, Historical. Under the first, may be contained all such Epigrams, Elegies and delectable ditties, which Poets have devised respecting only the delight thereof: in the second, all doleful complaints, lamentable chances, and what soever is poetically expressed in sorrow and heaviness. In the third, we may comprise, the rest of all such matters, which as indifferent between the other two, do commonly occupy the pens of Poets: such, are the poetical come pyling of Chronicles, the friendly greetings between friends, and very many sorts beside, which for the better distinction may be referred to one of these three kinds of Poetry. But once again, lest my discourse run too far awry, will I buckle myself more nearer to English Poetry: the use whereof, because it is nothing different from any other, I think best to confirm by the testimony of Horace, a man worthy to bear authoin this matter: whose very opinion is this, that the perfect perfection of poetry is this, to mingle delight with profit in such wise, that a Reader might by his reading be partaker of both, which though I touched in the beginning, yet I thought good to allege in this place for more confirmation thereof some of his own words. In his treatise de arte Poetica, thus he saith. 
Aut prodesse volunt aut delectare poetae,  
Aut simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vitae.   
As much to say: All Poets desire either by their works to profit or delight men, or else to join both profitable & pleasant lessons together for the instruction of life. And again. 
Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci,  
Lectorum delectando pariterque monendo.   
That is. He misseth nothing of his mark which joineth profit with delight, as well delighting his Readers, as profiting them with counsel. And that whole Epistle which he writ of his Art of Poetry, among all the parts thereof, runneth chiefly upon this, that whether the argument which the Poet handleth, be of things done, or feigned inventions, yet that they should bear such an Image of truth, that as they delight they may likewise profit. For these are his words. Ficta voluptatis causa sint proxima veris. Let things that are feigned for pleasures sake, have a near resemblance of the truth. This precept may you perceive to be most duly observed of Chawcer: for who could with more delight, prescribe such whole some counsel and sage advise, where he seemeth only to respect the profit of his lessons and instructions? or who could with greater wisdom, or more pithy skill, unfold such pleasant and delightsome matters of mirth, as though they respected nothing, but the telling of a merry tale? so that this is the very ground of right poetry, to give profitable counsel, yet so as it must be mingled with delight. For among all the ancient works of poetry, though the most of them incline much to that part of delighting men with pleasant matters of small importannce, yet even in the vainest trifles among them, there is not forgotten some profitable counsel, which a man may learn, either by flat precepts which therein are prescribed, or by loathing such vile vices, the enormities whereof they largely discover. For surely, I am of this opinion, that the wantonest Poets of all, in their most lascivious works wherein they busied themselves, sought rather by that means to withdraw men's minds (especially the best natures) from such foul vices, then to allure them to embrace such beastly follies as they detected.  
Horace speaking of the general duties of Poets, saith, Os tenerum pueri balbumque poeta fugitat, and many more words concerning the profit to be had out of Poets, which because I have some of them comprised into an English translation of that learned and famous Knight, Sir Thomas Elyot, I will set down his words. 
The Poet fashioneth by some pleasant mean,  
The speech of children stable and unsure:  
Gulling their ears from words and things unclean,  
Giving to them precepts that are pure:  
Rebuking envy and wrath if it dure:  
Things well done he can by example commend,  
To needy and sick he doth also his cure  
To recomfort if ought he can amend.   
And many other like words are in that place of Horace to like effect. Therefore poetry, as it is of itself, without abuse is not only not unprofitable to the lives and studies of men, but wonderful commendable and of great excellency. For nothing can be more acceptable to men, or rather to be wished, than sweet allurements to virtues, and commodious caucates from vices? of which Poetry is exceeding plentiful, pouring into gentle wits, not roughly and tirannicallie, but as it were with a loving authority. Now if the ill and undecent provocations, whereof some unbridled wits take occasion by the reading of lascivious Poems, be objected: such as are Ovid's love Books, and Elegies, Tibullus, Catullus, and Marshal's works, with the Comedies for the most part of Plautus and Terence: I think it easily answered. For though it may not justly be denied, that these works are indeed very Poetry, yet that Poetry in them is not the essential or formal matter or cause of the hurt therein might be affirmed, and although that reason should come short, yet this might be sufficient, that the works themselves do not corrupt, but the abuse of the users, who undamaging their own dispositions, by reading the discoveries of vices, resemble foolish folk, who coming into a Garden without any choice or circumspection tread down the fairest flowers, and wilfully thrust their fingers among the nettles.  
And surely to speak what I verily think, this is mine opinion: that one having sufficient skill, to read and understand those works, and yet no stay of himself to avoid incon veniences, which the remembrance of unlawful things may stir up in his mind, he, in my judgement, is wholly to be reputed a lascivious disposed person, whom the recital of sins whether it be in a good work or a bad, or upon what occasion soever, will not stay him but provoke him further unto them. Contrariwise, what good lessons the wary and skilful Readers shall pick out of the very worst of them, if they list to take any heed, and read them not of an intent to be made the worse by them, you may see by these few sentences, which the foresaid Sir Thomas Elyott gathered as he saith at all adventures, entreating of the like argument. First Plautus in commendations of virtue, hath such like words. 
Verily virtue doth all things excel,  
For if liberty, health living or substance,  
Our Country our parents, and children do well,  
It happeneth by virtue: she doth all advance,  
Virtue hath all things under governance:  
And in whom of virtue is found great plenty,  
Any thing that is good may never be dainty.  Terence, in Eunucho hath a profitable speech, in blasin●… forth the fashions of harlots, before the eyes of young men. Thus saith Parmeno. 
In this thing I triumph in mine own conceit,  
That I have found for all young men the way,  
How they of Harlots shall know the deceit,  
Their wits and manners: that thereby they may  
Them perpetually hate, for so much as they  
Out of their own houses be fresh and delicate,  
Feeding curiously: at home all day  
living beggarly in most wretched estate.   
And many more words of the same matter, but which may be gathered by these few.  
Ovid in his most wanton Books of love, and the remedies thereof, hath very many pithy and wise sentences, which a beedefull Reader may mark, and chose out from the other stuff. This is one. 
Time is a medicine if it shall profit,  
Wine given out of time may be annoyance.  
A man shall irritat vice if he prohibitt,  
When time is not meet unto his utterance.  
Therefore if thou yet by counsel art recuperable,  
Fly thou from idleness and ever be stable.   
Martial, a most dissolute writer among all other, yet not without many grave and prudent speeches, as this is one worthy to be marked of these fond youths which entangle their wits in raging love, who stepping once over shoes in their fancies, never rest plunging till they be over head and ears in their folly. 
If thou wylt-eschewe bitter adventure.  
And avoid the annoyance of a pensifull hare,  
Set in no one person all wholly thy pleasure,  
The less mayst thou joy, but the less shalt thou smart.   
These are but few gathered out by hap, yet sufficient to show that the wise and circumspect Readers may find very many profitable lessons, dispersed in th●…●…orkes, neither take any harm by reading such Poems, but good, if they will themselves. Nevertheless, I would not be thought to hold opinion, that the reading of them is so tolerable, as that there need no respect to be had in making choice of readers or hearers: for if they be prohibited from the tender and unconstant wits of children and young minds, I think it not without great reason: neither am I of that devilish opinion, of which some there are, and have been in England, who having charge of youth to instruct them in learning, have especially made choice of such un childish stuff, to read unto young Scholars, as it should seem of some filthy purpose, wilfully to corrupt their tender minds, and prepare them the more ready for their loathsome dyetts.  
For as it is said of that impudent work of Luciane, a man were better to read none of it then all of it, so think I that these works are rather to be kept altogether from children, them they should have free liberty to read them, before they be meet either of their own discretion or by heedful instruction, to make choice of the good from the bad. Asfor our English Poetry, I know no such perilous pieces (except a few bald ditties made over the Beer pots, which are nothing less than Poetry) which any man may use and read without damage or danger: which indeed is less to be marveled at among us, then among the old Latins and Greeks, Considering that Christianity may be a state to such illecibrous works and inventions, as among them (for their Art sake) might obtain passage.  
Now will I speak some what, of that princely part of Poetry, wherein are displayed the noble acts and valiant exploits of puissant Captains, expert soldiers, wise men, with the famous reports of ancient times, such as are the Heroical works of Homer in Greek, and the heavenly verse of Virgil's AEneidos in Latin: which works, comprehending as it were the sum and ground of all Poetry, are verily and incon●…parably the best of all other. To these, though we have no English work answerable, in respect of the glorious ornaments of gallant handling: yet our ancient Chroniclers and reporters of our Country affairs, come most near them: and no doubt, if such regard of our English speech, and curious handling of our verse, had been long since thought upon, and from time to time been polished and bettered by men of learning, judgement, and authority, it would ere this, have matched them in all respects. A manifest example thereof, may be the great good grace and sweet vain, which Eloquence hath attained in our speech, because it hath had the help of such rare and singular wits, as from time to time might still add some amendment to the same. Among whom I think there is none that. will gainsay, but Master john Lily hath deserved most high commendations, as he which hath stepped one step further therein than any either before or since he first began the witty discourse of his Euphues. Whose works, surely in respect of his singular eloquence and brave composition of apt words and sentences, let the learned examine and make trial thereof through all the parts of Rhetoric, in fit phrases, in pithy sentences, in gallant tropes, in flowing speech, in plain sense, and surely in my judgement, I think he will yield him that verdict, which Quintilian giveth of both the best Drators Demosthenes and Tully, that from the one, nothing may be taken away, to the other, nothing may be added. But a more nearer example to prove my former assertion true, (I mean the méetnesse of our speech to receive the best form of Poetry) may be taken by conference of that famous translation of Master D. Phaer with the copy itself, who soever please with courteous judgement but a little to compare and mark them both together: and weigh with himself, whether the English tongue might by little and little be brought to the very majesty of a right Heroical verse. First you may mark, how Virgil always ●…itteth his matter in hand with words agreeable unto the same affection, which he expresseth, as in his Tragical exclamations, what pathe●…all speeches he frameth? in his come fortable consolations, how smoothly his verse runs? in his dreadful battles, and ●…réery byckerments of warress, how big and boisterous his words sound? and the like notes in all parts of his work may be observed. Which excellent grace and comely kind of choice, if the translator hath not hit very near in our course English phrase judge uprightly: we will confer some of the places, not picked out for the purpose, but such as I took turning over the Book at random. When the Trojans were so tossed about in tempestuous wether, caused by AEolus at Aeunoes' request, and driven upon the coast of Africa with a very near scape of their lives: AEneas after he had gone a land and killed plenty of victuals for his company of Soldiers, he divided the same among them, and thus lovingly and sweetly he comforted them. AEn. Lib. 1. 
- et dictis moerentia pectora mulcet  
O socij (neque ignari sumus ante malorum)  
O pa●… grau●…ora: dabit deus his quoque finem.  
Uos et scyllaeam rabiem, penitusque sonantes,  
Accestis scopulos: vos et cyclopea saxa  
Experti, revocate animos, maestumque timorem  
Mittite. forsan et haec olim meminisse i●…uabit.  
Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum,  
Tendimus in Latium: sedes ubi fata quietas  
Ostendunt, illic fas regna resurgere troiae.  
Durate, et vosmet rebus seruate secundis.  
Talia v●…ce refert, curisque ingentibus aeger  
Spem vuliu simulat, premit altum cord dolor●…m.   
Translated thus. 
And then to cheer their heavy barts with these words he him bend.  
O Mates (quoth he) that many a woe have bidden and borne ere thus,  
Worse have we seen, and this also shall end when Gods will is.  
Through Sylla rage (ye wot) and through the roaring rocks we passed,  
Though Cyclops shore was full of fear, yet came we through at last.  
Pluck up your hearts, and drive from thence both fear and care away  
To think on this may pleasure be perhaps another day.  
By pains and many a danger sore, by sundry chance we wend,  
To come to Italy, where we trust to find our resting end:  
And where the destiny's have decreed Troy's kingdom eft to rise.  
Be bold and harden now your hearts, take ease while ease applies  
Thus spoke he tho, but in his heart huge cares had him oppressed,  
Dissembling hope with outward eyes full heavy was his breast.   
Again, mark the wounding of Dido in love with AEneas, with how choyse words it is pithily described, both by the Poet and the translator in the beginning of the fourth book. 
At Regina gravi iamdudum saucia cura  
Uulnus alit venis, et caeco carpitur igni, etc.  
By this time pierced sat the Queen so sore with loves desire,  
Her wound in every vain she feeds, she fries in secret fire.  
The manhood of the manful oft, full oft his famous line  
She doth revolve, and from her thought his face cannot untwine.  
His countenance deep she draws and fired fast she bears in breast,  
His words also, nor to her careful heart can come no rest.   
And in many places of the fourth book is the same matter so gallantly prosecuted in sweet words, as in mine opinion the copy itself goeth no whit beyond it.  
Compare them likewise in the woeful and lamentable cries of the Queen for the departure of AEneas, towards the end of that Book. 
Terque quaterque manu pectus percussa decorum,  
Flaventesque abscissa comas, proh jupiter, ibit?  
Hic ait, ●…t nostris illuserit advena Regnis? etc.  
Three times her hands she bet, and three times struck her comely breast,  
Her golden hair she tore and frantiklike with mood oppressed,  
She cried, O jupiter, O God, quoth she, and shall a go?  
Indeed? and shall a flout me thus within my kingdom so?  
Shall not mine Armies out, and all my people them pursue?  
Shall they not spoil their ships and burn them up with vengeance due?  
Out people, out upon them, follow fast with fires and flames,  
Set sails aloft, make out with oars, in ships, in boats, in frames.  
What speak I? or where am I? what furies me do thus enchant?  
O Dydo, woeful wretch, now destiny's fell thy head doth haunt.   
And a little after preparing to kill her own self. 
But Dydo quaking fierce with frantic mood and griefly hew.  
With trembling spotted cheeks, her huge attempting to pursue.  
Besides herself for rage, and towards death with visage wan,  
Her eyes about she rolled, as red as blood they looked than.   
At last ready to fall upon AEneas sword. 
O happy (wellaway) and over happy had I been,  
If never Trojan ships (alas) my Country shore had seen.  
Thus said she wried her head, and berevenged must we die?  
But let us boldly die (quoth she) thus, thus to death I ply.   
Now likewise for the brave warlike phrase and big sounding kind of thundering speech, in the hot skyrmyshes of battles, you may confer them in any of the last five Books: for example's sake, this is one about the ninth Book. 
It clamour totis per propugnacula muris,  
Intendunt acries arcus, amentaque torquent.  
Sternitur omne solum telis. tum scutae cavaeque  
Dant sonitum ●●ctu galeae: pugna asper surgit? etc.  
A clamorous noise upmounts on fortress tops and bulwarks towers,  
They strike, they bend their bows, they whirl from strings sharp shooting showers.  
All streets with fools are strewed, than helmets, skulls, with battring marro,  
And shieldess dishyvering crack, upriseth roughness byckring hard.  
Look how the tempest storm when wind out wrestling blows at south,  
Rain rattling beats the ground, or clouds of hail from Winter's mouth,  
Down dashing headlong drives, when God from skies with grisly steven,  
His watery showers outwrings, & whirlwind clouds down breaks from heaven.  And so forth much more of the like effect.  
Only one comparison more will I desire you to mark at your leisures, which may serve for all the rest, that is, the description of Fame, as it is in the 4. book, towards the end, of which it followeth thus. 
Monstrum horrendum ingens cui quot sunt corpore plumae  
Tota vigilos oculi etc.  
A Monster ghastly great, for every plume her carcase bears,  
Like number learing eyes she hath, like number hearkening ears.  
Like number tongues, and mouths she wags, a wondrous thing to speak,  
At midnight forth she flies, and under shade her sound doth squeak.  
All night she wakes, nor slumber sweet doth take nor never sleeps.  
By days on houses tops she sits or gates of Towns she keeps.  
On watching Towers she clymbes, and Cities great she makes aghast,  
Both truth and falsehood forth she tells, and lies abroad doth cast.   
But what need I to repeat any more places? there is not one Book among the twelve, which will not yield you most excellent pleasure in conferring the translation with the Copy, and marking the gallant grace which our English speech affordeth. And in truth the like comparisons, may you choose out through the whole translations of the Metamorphosis by Master Golding who (considering both their Copies) hath equally deserved commendations for the beautifying of the English speech. It would be tedious to stay to rehearse any places out of him now: let the other suffice to prove, that the English tongue lacketh neither variety nor currantness of phrase for any matter.  
I Will now speak a little of an other kind of poetical writing, which might notwithstanding for the variableness of the argument therein usually handled, be comprehended in those kinds before declared: that is, the compyling of Eglogues, as much to say as Goteheardes tales, because they be commonly Dialogues or speeches framed or supposed between shepherds, Neteheardes, Goteheardes, or such like simple men: in which kind of writing, many have obtained as immor tall praise and commendation, as in any other.  
The chiefest of these is Theocritus in Greek: next him, and almost the very same, is Virgil in Latin. After Virgyl in like sort writ Titus Calphurnius and Baptista Mantuan, with many other both in Latin and other languages very learnedly. Although the matter they take in hand seemeth commonly in appearance rude and homely, as the usual talk of simple clowns: yet do they indeed utter in the same much pleasant and profitable delight. For under these persons, as it were in a cloak of simplicity, they would either set forth the praises of their friends, without the note of flattery, or enueigh grievously against abusess, without any token of bitterness.  
Somewhat like unto these works, are many pieces of Chawcer, but yet not altogether so poetical. But now yet at the last hath England hatched up one Poet of this sort, in my conscience comparable with the best in any respect: even Master Sparke: Author of the Shepherds Calendar, whose travel in that piece of English Poetry, I think verily is so commendable, as none of equal judgement can yield him less praise for his excellent skill, and skilful excellency showed forth in the same, than they would to either Theocritus or Virgil, whom in mine opinion, if the coarseness of our speech (I mean the course of custom which he would not infringe) had been no more let unto him, than their pure native tongues were unto them, he would have (if it might be) surpassed them. What one thing is there in them so worthy admiration, whereunto we may not adjoin some thing of his, of equal desert? Take Virgil and make some little comparison between them, and judge as ye shall see cause.  
Virgil hath a gallant report of Augustus covertly comprised in the first Eclogue: the like is in him, of her Majesty, under the name of Eliza. Virgil maketh a brave coloured complaint of unsteadfast fréendshyppe in the person of Corydon: the like is him in his 5. Eclogue. Again behold the pretty Pastoral contentions of Virgil in the third Eclogue: of him in the eight Eglogue. Finally, either in comparison with them, or respect of his own great learning, he may well were the Garland, and step before the best of all English Poets that I have seen or heard: for I think no less deserveth (thus saith E, K. in his commendations) his wittiness in devising, his pithiness in uttering, his complaints of love so lovely, his discourses of pleasure so pleasantly, his Pastrall rudeness, his Moral wiseness, his due observing of decorum every where, in personages, in season, in matter, in speech, and generally in all sé●…me lie simplicity, of handling his matter and framing his words. The occasion of his work is a warning to other young men, who being entangled in love and youthful vanities, may learn to look to themselves in time, and to avoid inconveniences which may breed if they be not in time prevented. Many good Moral lessons are therein contained, as the reverence which young men own to the aged in the second Eglogue: the caveate o●… warning to beware a subtle professor of friendship in the fift Eglogue: the commendation of good Pastors, and shame and dispraise of idle & ambitious Goteheardes in the seventh, the lose and reckless living of Popish Prelates in the ninth. The learned and sweet complaint of the contempt of learning under the name of Poetry in the tenth. There is also much matter uttered somewhat covertly, especially the abuses of some whom he would not be too plain withal: in which, though it be not apparent to every one, what his special meaning was, yet so skilfully is it handled, as any man may take much delight at his learned conveyance, and pick out much good sense in the most obscurest of it. 〈◊〉 notable praise deserved in every parcel of that work, because I cannot express as I would and as it should: I will cease to speak any more of, the rather because I never heard as yet any that hath read it, which hath not with much admiration commended it. One only thing therein have I heard some curious heads call in question: viz: the motion of some unsavoury love, such as in the sit Eglogue he seemeth to deal with●…, (which say they) is scant allowable to English ears, and might well have been left for the Italian defenders of loathsome beastliness, of whom perhaps he learned it: to this objection I have often answered and (I think truly) that their nice opinion over shooteth the Poet's meaning, who though he in that as in other things, immitateth the ancient Poets, yet doth not mean, no more did they before him, any disordered love, or the filthy lust of the devilish Pederastice taken in the worse sense, but rather to show how the dissolute life of young men entangled in love of women, do neglect the fréendshyp and league with their old friends and familiars. Why (say they) yet he should give no occasion of suspicion, nor offer to the view of Christians, any token of such filthiness, how good soever his meaning were: whereunto I oppose the simple conceit they have of matters which concern learning or wit, willing them to give Poets leave to use their vain as they see good: it is their foolish construction, not his writing that is blamable. We must prescribe to no writers, (much less to Poets) in what sort they should utter their conceits. But this will be better discussed by some I hope of better ability.  
One other sort of Poetical writers remaineth yet to be remembered, that is, The precepts of Husbandry, learnedly compiled in Heroical verse. Such were the works of Hesiodus in Greek, and Virgil's Georgickes' in Latin. What memorable work hath been handled in imitation of these by any English Poet, I know not, (save only one work of M. Tusser, a piece surely of great wit and experience, and withal very prettily handled) And I think the cause why our Poets have not travailed in that behalf, is especially, for that there have been always plenty of other writers that have handled the same argument very largely. Among whom Master Barnaby Googe, in translating and enlarging the most profitable work of Heresbachius, hath deserved much commendation, as well for his faithful compyling and learned increasing the noble work, as for his witty translation of a good part of the Georgickes of Virgil into English verse.  
Among all the translations, which hath been my fortune to see, I could never yet find that work of the Georgics wholly performed. I remember once Abraham Fleming in his conversion of the Eglogues, promised to translate and publish it: whether he did or not I know not, but as yet I heard not of it. I myself wot well I bestowed some time in it two or three years since, turning it to that same English verse, which other such works were in, though it were rudely: how beit, I did it only for mine own use, and upon certain respects towards a Gentleman mine especial friend, to whom I was desirous to show some token of dutiful good will, and not minding it should go far abroad, considering how slenderly I ran it over: yet since then, hath one got it in keeping, who as it is told me, either hath or will unadvisedly publish it: which injury though he means to do me in mirth, yet I hope he will make me some sufficient recompense, or else I shall go near to watch him the like or a worse turn.  
But concerning the matter of our English writers, let this suffice: now shall ye hear my simple skill in what I am able to say concerning the form and manner of our english verse.  
The most usual and frequented kind of our English Poetry hath always run upon, and to this day is observed in such equal number of syllables, and likeness of words, that in all places one verse either immediately, or by mutual interpo●…tion, may be answerable to an other both in proportion of length, and ending of lines in the same Letters. Which rude kind of verse, though (as I touched before) it rather discrediteth our speech, as borrowed from the Barbarians, then furnisheth the same with any comely ornament: yet being so engraffed by custom, and frequented by the most part, I may not utterly disallow it, lest I should seem to call in question the judgement of all our famous writers, which have won eternal praise by their memorable works compiled in that verse.  
For my part therefore, I can be content to esteem it as a thing, the perfection whereof is very commendable, yet so as with others I could wish it were by men of learning and ability bettered, and made more artificial, according to the worthiness of our speech.  
The falling out of verses together in one like sound, is commonly called in English, Kyme, taken from the Greek word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which surely in my judgement is very abusivelye applied to such a sense: and by this, the unworthiness of the thing may well appear, in that wanting a proper name, whereby to be called, it borroweth a word far exéeding the dignity of it, and not appropriate to so rude and base a thing. For Rhyme is properly, the just proportion of a clause or sentence, whether it be in prose or meeter, aptly comprised together: whereof there is both an natural and an artificial composition, in any manner or kind of speech, either French, Italian, Spanish, or English: and is proper not only to Poets, but also to Readers, Orators, Pleaders, or any which are to pronounce or speak any thing in public audience.  
The first beginning of Rhyme (as we now term it) though it be some what ancient, yet nothing famous. In Greece (they say) one Symias Rhodias, because he would be singular in something, writ poetically of the Fable, containing how jupiter being in shape of a Swan, begat the Egg on Leda, whereof came Castor, Pollux, and Helena, whereof every verse ended in this Rhyme, and was called therefore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉: but this foolish attempt was so contemned and despised, that the people would neither admit the Author nor Book any place in memory of learning. Since that it was not heard of, till that time the Huns and Gothians renewed it again, and brought it into Italy. But howsoever or wheresoeuér it began, certain it is, that in our English tongue it beareth as good grace, or rather better, then in any other: and is a faculty whereby many may and do deserve great praise and commendation, though our speech be capable of a far more learned manner of versifying, as I will partly declare hereafter.  
There be three special notes necessary to be observed in the framing of our accustomed English Rhyme: the first is, that one meeter or verse be answerable to an other, in equal number of feet or syllables, or proportionable to the tune whereby it is to be read or measured. The second, to place the words in such sort, as none of them be wrested contrary to the natural inclination or affectation of the same, or more truly the true quantity thereof. The third, to make them fall together mutually in Rhyme, that is, in words of like sound, but so as the words be not disordered for the Rhymes sake, nor the sense hindered. These be the most principal observations, which I think requisite in an English verse: for as for the other ornaments which belong thereto, they be more properly belonging to the several gifts of skilful Poets, then common notes to be prescribed by me: but somewhat perhaps I shall have occasion to speak hereafter.  
Of the kinds of English verses which differ in number of syllables, there are almost infinite: which every way altar according to his fancy, or to the measure of that meeter, wherein it pleaseth him to frame his ditty. Of the best and most frequented I will rehearse some. The longest verse in length, which I have seen used in English consisteth of sixteen syllables, each two verses rhyming together, thus. 
Where virtue wants & vice abounds, there wealth is but a baited hook,  
To make men swallow down their bane, before on danger deep they look.   
This kind is not very much used at length thus, but is commonly divided, each verse into two, whereof each shall contain eight syllables, and rhyme cross wise, the first to the third, and the second to the fourth, in this manner. 
Great wealth is but a baited hook,  
Where virtue wants, and vice abounds:  
Which men devour before they look,  
So them in dangers deep it drowns.   
another kind next in length to this, is, where each verse hath fourteen syllables, which is the most accustomed of all other, and especially used of all the translators of the Latin Poets for the most part thus. 
My mind with fury fierce inflamed of late I know not how,  
Doth burn Parnassus' hill to see, adorned with Laurel bow.   
Which may likewise and so it often is divided, each verse into two, to first having eight syllables, the second six, whereof the two six shall always rhyme, and sometimes the eyghtes, sometimes not, according to the will of the maker. 
My mind with fury fierce inflamed,  
Of late I know not how:  
Doth burn Parnassus' hill to see,  
Adorned with Laurel bow.   
There are now within this compass, as many sorts of verses as may be devised differences of numbers: whereof some consist of equal proportions, some of long and short together, some of many rhymes in one staff (as they call it) some of cross rhyme, some of counter rhyme, some rhyming with one word far distant from another, some rhyming every third or fourth word, and so likewise all manner of dytties appliable to every tune that may be sung or said, distinct from prose or continued speech. To avoid therefore tediousness and confusion, I will repeat only the different sorts of verses out of the Shepherds Calendar, which may well serve to bear authority in this matter.  
There are in that work twelve or thirteen sundry sorts of verses, which differ either in length, or rhyme, of distinction of the staves: but of them which differ in length or number of syllables not past six or seven. The first of them is of ten syllables, or rather five feet in one verse, thus. 
A shepherds boy no better do him call,  
When Winters wasteful spite was almost spent.   
This verse he useth commonly in his sweet complaints, and mournful ditties, as very agreeable to such affections.  
The second sort hath naturally but nine syllables, and is a more rough or clownish manner of verse, used most commonly of him if your mark him in his satirical reprehensions, this shepherds homelyest talk, such as the second Eclogue is. 
Ah for pity will rank Winter's rage,  
These bitter blasts never gynne to assuage.   
The number of nine syllables in this verse is very often altered, and so it may without any disgrace to the same, especially where the speech should be most clownish and simple, which is much observed of him.  
The third kind is a pretty round verse, running currently together, commonly seven syllables or sometime eight in one verse, as many in the next, both rhyming together: every two having one the like verse after them, but of rounder words, and two of them likewise rhyming mutually. That verse expresseth notably, light and youthful talk, such as is the third Eclogue between two shepherds boys concerning love. 
Thomalin why satin we so  
As weren overwent with woe  
Upon so fair a morrow?  
The joyous time now nigheth fast  
That will allay this bitter blast  
And stake the Winter sorrow.   
The fourth sort containeth in each staff many unequal verses, but most swéetelie falling together: which the Poet calleth the tune of the waters fall. Therein is his song in praise of Eliza. 
Ye dainty Nymphs which in this blessed brook  
do bathe your breast,  
Forsake your watery bowers and hither look,  
at my request.  
And eke ye Virgins that on Parnass dwell,  
Whence floweth Helicon the learned Well,  
help me to blaze  
her worthy praise  
That in her sex doth all excel. etc.   
The fift, is a divided verse of twelve syllables into two verses, whereof I spoke before, and seemeth most meet for the handling of a Moral matter, such as is the praise of good Pastors, and the dispraise of ill in the seventh Eclogue.  
The sixth kind, is called a round, being mutually sung between two: one singeth one verse, the other the next, each rymeth with himself. Per. 
It fell upon a holy eve,  Wyl. 
hay ho holiday  Per. 
When holy fathers wont to shrieve,  Wyl. 
Thus ginneth our Kondelay. etc.   
The seventh sort is a very tragical mournful measure, wherein he bewaileth the death of some friend under the person of Dydo. 
Up then Melpomene the mournfullest Muse of nine,  
such cause of mourning never hadst afore:  
Up grie●…y ghosts, and up my mournful rhyme:  
matter of mirth now stalt thou have no more.  
Dydo my dear alas is dead,  
Dead and lieth wrapped in lead:  
O heause hearse  
Let streaming tears be powered out in store.  
O careful verse.   
These sorts of verses for brevities sake have I chosen forth of him, whereby I shall avoid the tedious rehearsal of all the kinds which are used: which I think would have been unpossible, seeing they may be altered to as many forms as the Poets please: neither is there any tune or stroke which may be sung or played on instruments, which hath not some poetical ditties framed according to the numbers thereof: some to Rogero, some to Trenchmore, to down right Squire, to Galliardes, to Pavines, to jygges, to Brawls, to all manner of tunes which every Fiddler knows better than myself, and therefore I will let them pass.  
Again, the diversities of the staves (which are the number of verses contained with the divisions or partitions of a ditty) do often times make great differences in these verses. As when one staff containeth but two verses, or (if they be divided) four: the first or the first couple having twelve syllables, the other fourteen, which versifyers call Poulters measure, because so they tall their wares by dosens. Also, when one staff hath many verses, whereof each one rhymeth to the next, or mutually cross, or distant by three, or by four, or ended contrary to the beginning, and a hundred sorts, whereof to show several examples, would be too troublesome: now for the second point.  
The natural course of most English verses seemeth to run upon the old jambicke stroke, and I may well think by all likelihood, it had the beginning thereof. For if you mark the right quantity of our usual verses, ye shall perceive them to contain in sound the very property of iambic feet, as thus. 
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯  
I that my slender oaten pipe in verse was wont to sound:   
For transpose any of those feet in pronouncing, and make short either the two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve syllable, and it will (do what you can) fall out very absurdly.  
Again, though our words can not well be forced to abide the touch of Position and other rules of Prosodia, yet is there such a natural force or quantity in each word, that it will not abide any place but one, without some foul disgrace: as for example try any verse. as this. 
˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯  
Of shape's transformed to bodies strange I purpose to entreat.   
Make the first syllable long, or the third, or the fift & so forth: or contrariwise make the other syllables to admit the shortness of one of them places, and see what a wonderful defacing it willbe to the words. as thus. 
¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ˘  
Of strange bodies transformed to shapes purpose I to entreat.   
So that this is one especial thing to be taken heed of in making a good English verse, that by displacing no word be wrested against his natural propriety, whereunto you shall perceive each word to be affected, and may easily discern it in words of two syllables or above, though some there be of indifferency, that will stand in any place. Again, in chouching the whole sentence, the like regard is to be had, that we exceed not too boldly in placing the verb out of his order, and too far behind the noun: which the necessity of Rhyme may oftentimes urge. For though it be tolerable in a verse to set words so extraordinarily as other speech will not admit, yet heed is to be taken, lest by too much affecting that manner, we make both the verse unpleasant and the sense obscure. And sure it is a wonder to see the folly of many in this respect, that use not only too much of this overthwart placing, or rather displacing of words, in their Poems and verses, but also in their prose or continued writings: where they think to roll most smoothly, and flow most eloquently, there by this means, come forth their sentences dragging at one Author's tail as they were tied together with points, where often you shall tarry (scratching your head) a good space before you shall hear his principal verb or special word, least his singing grace, which in his sentence is contained should be less, and his speech seem nothing poetical.  
The third observation is, the Rhyme or like ending of verses: which though it is of least importance, yet hath won such credit among us, that of all other it is most regarded of the greatest part of Readers. And surely as I am persuaded, the regard of writers to this, hath been the greatest decay of that good order of versifying, which might ere this have been established in our speech. In my judgement, if there be any ornament in the same, it is rather to be attributed to the plentiful fullness of our speech, which can afford rhyming words sufficient for the handling of any matter, then to the thing itself for any beautifying it bringeth to a work: which might be adorned with far more excellent colours then rhyming is. Not withstanding I cannot but yield unto it (as custom requireth) the deserved praises, especially where it is with good judgement ordered. And I think them right worthy of admi ration, for their readiness and plenty of wit and capacity, who can with facility entreat at large, and as we call it extempore, in good and sensible rhyme, upon some unacquainted matter.  
The ready skill of framing any thing in verse, besides the natural promptness which many have thereunto, is much helped by Art, and erercise of the memory: for as I remember, I read once among Gaskoynes works, a little instruction to versifying, where is prescribed as I think this course of learning to versify in Rhyme.  
When ye have one verse well settled, and decently ordered which you may dispose at your pleasure, to end it with what word you will: than what soever the word is, you may speedily run over the other words which are answerable thereunto, (for more readiness through all the letters Alphabetically) whereof ro●… may choose that which will best fit the sense of your matter in that place: as for example: if your last word end in Book, you may straightways in your mind run them over thus. Brooke, Cook, crook, hook, look, nook, pooke, rook, forsook, took, awoke. etc. Now it is twenty to one, but always one of these shall jump with your former word and matter in good sense. If not, then altar the first.  
And indeed I think, that next to the Art of memory, this is the readiest way to attain to the faculty of rhyming well Ertempore, especially if it be helped with thus much pains. Gather together all manner of words especially Monasillables, and place them Alphabetically in some note, and either have them meetly perfectly by heart (which is no very laboursome matter) or but look them diligently over at some time, practising to rhyme indifferent often, whereby I am persuaded it will soon be learned, so as the party have withal any reasonable gift of knowledge and learning, whereby he want not both matter and words altogether.  
What the other circumstances of Rhyming are, as what words may tolerably be placed in Rhyme, and what not: what words do best become a Rhyme, and what not, how many sorts of Rhyme there is: and such like I will not stay now to entreat. There be many more observations and notes to be prescribed, to the exact knowledge of versifying, which I trust willbe better and larger laid forth by others, to whom I defer many considerations in this treatise: hoping that some of greater skill will shortly handle this matter in better sort.  
Now the sundry kinds of rare devices, and pretty inventions which come from the fine poetical bain of many in strange and unaccustomed manner, if I could report them, it were worthy my travel: such are the turning of verses: the enfolding of words: the fine repititions: the clarklie conveying of contraries, and many such like. Whereof though I could set down many: yet because I want both many and the best kinds of them, I will overpass: only pointing you to one or two which may suffice for example.  
Look upon the rueful song of Colin sung by Cuddy in the Shepherds' Calendar, where you shall see a singular rare devise of a ditty framed upon these six words Woe, sound, cries, pact, sleep, augment, which are most prettily turned and wound up mutually together, expressing wonderfully the dolefulness of the song. A devise not much unlike unto the same, is used by some, who taking the last words of a certain number of verses, as it were by the rebound of an Echo, shall make them fall out in some pretty sense.  
Of this sort there are some devised by john grange, which because they be not long I will rehearse one. 
If fear oppress how then may hope me shield?  
Denial says, vain hope hath pleased well,  
But as such hope thou wouldst not be thine,  
So would I not the like to rule my heart.  
For if thou lovest it bids thee grant forthwith  
Which is the joy whereof I live in hope.   
Here if you take the last word of every verse, and place them orderly together, you shall have this sentence: Shield well thine heart with hope. But of these Echoes I know in deed very dainty pieces of work, among some of the finest Poets this day in London: who for the rareness of them 〈◊〉 them privily to themselves, and will not let them come abroad.  
A like invention to the last rehearsed, or rather a better, have I seen often practised in framing a whole ditty to the Letters of one's name, or to the words of some two or three verses which is very witty, as for example this is one of W. Hunnis, which for the shortness I rather choosed then some that are better. 
If thou desire to live in quiet rest,  
give care and see, but say the best.   
These two verses are now as it were resolved into divers other, every two words or syllables being the beginning of an other like verse, in this sort. 
If thou delight in quietness of life,  
Desire to shun from brawls, debate and strife:  
To live in love with GOD, with friend and foe,  
In rest shalt sleep when other cannot so.  
give ear to all, yet do not all believe,  
And see the end and then thy sentence give:  
But say For truth of happy lives assigned  
The best hath he that quiet is in mind.   
Thus are there infinite sorts of fine conveyances (as they may be termed) to be used, and are much frequented by versifyers, as well in composition of their verse, as the wittiness of their matter: which all I will refer to the consideration of every pleasant headed Poet in their proper gifts: only I set ●…ne these few sorts of their forms of versifying, which may stand in steed to declare what many others may be devised in like sort.  
〈◊〉 ●…ne to proceed to the reformed kind of English verse which many have before this, attempted to put in practice, and to establish for an accustomed right among English Poets, you shall hear in like manner my simple judgement concerning the same.  
I am fully and certainly persuaded, that if the true kind of versifying in imitation of Greeks and Latins, had been practised in the English tongue, and put in ure from time to time by our Poets, who might have continually been mending and pollyshing the same, every one according to their several gifts: it would long ere this have aspired to as full perfection, as in any other tongue whatsoever. For why may I not think so of our English, seeing that among the Romans a long time, yea even till the days of Tully, they esteemed not the Latin Poetry almost worth any thing, in respect of the Greek, as appeareth in the Oration pro Archia Poeta: yet afterwards it increased in credit more and more, and that in short space: so that in Virgilles' time, wherein were they not comparable with the Greeks? So likewise, now it seemeth not currant for an English verse to run upon true quantity, and those feet which the Latins use, because it is strange, and the other barbarous custom, being within compass of every base wit, hath worn it out of credit or estimation. But if our writers, being of learning and judgement, would rather infringe this curious custom, then omit the occasion of enlarging the credit of their native speech, and their own praises, by practising that commendable kind of writing in true verse: then no doubt, as in other parts of learning, so in Poetry, should not stoop to the best of them all in all manner of ornament and comeliness. But some object that our words are nothing resemblaunt in nature to theirs, and therefore not possible to be framed with any good grace after their use: but cannot we then as well as the Latins did, altar the cannon of the rule according to the quality of our word, and where our words and theirs will agree, there to jump with them, where they w●…l not agree, there to establish a rule of our own to be directed by? Likewise, for the tenor of the verse might we not (as Horace did in the Latin) altar their proportions to what sorts w●… li●…ed, and to what we saw would best become the nature of the thing bandled, or the quality of the words? Surely it is to be thought that if any one, of sound judgement and learning, should put forth some famous work, containing divers forms of true verses, fitting the measures, according to the matter: it would of itself be a sufficient authority without any prescription of rules, to the most part of Poets, for them to follow and by custom to ratify. For sure it is, that the rules and principles of Poetry, were not precisly followed and observed of the first beginners and writers of Poetry, but were selected and gathered severally out of their works, for the direction and behoof of their followers. And indeed, he that shall with heedful judgement make trial of the English words, shall not find them so gross or unapt, but that they will become any one of the most accustomed sorts of Latin or Greek verses meetly, and run thereon somewhat currently  
I myself, with simple skill I ●…onfesse, and far unable judgement, have ●…entured on a few, which notwithstanding the rudeness of them may serve to show what better might be brought into our speech, if those which are of meet ability would bestow some travel and endeavour thereupon. But before I set them down, I will speak somewhat of such abseruations as I could gather necessary to the knowledge of these kind of verses, lest I should seem to run upon them rashly, without regard either of example or authority.  
The special points of a true verse, are the due observations of the feet, and place of the feet.  
The foot of a verse, is a measure of two syllables, or of three, distinguished by time which is either long or short. A foot of two syllables, is either simple or mixed, that is, of like time or of divers. A simple foot of two syllables is likewise twofold, either of two long syllables called Spondaeus, as ¯ ¯ goodness, or of two short called Pyrrichius as ˘ ˘ hither. A mixed foot of 2. syllables, is either of one short and one long called jambus as ˘ ¯ dying: or of one long and one short, called Choreus as ¯ ˘ gladly. A foot of 3. syllables in like sort is either simple or mixed. The simple is either Molossus, that is of three long, as ¯ ¯ ¯ forgiveness: or Trochaeus, that is of 3. short, as ˘ ˘ ˘ merylie. The mixed is of 6. divers sorts, 1. Dactylus, of one long, and two short, as ¯ ˘ ˘ happily. 2. Anapaestus, of two short, and one long, as ˘ ˘ ¯ tavelers. 3. Bacchius, of one short, and two long, as ˘ ¯ ¯ remembrers. 4. Palimbachius, of two long, and one short, as ¯ ¯ ˘ accorded. 5. Creticus of a long, a short, and a long, as ¯ ˘ ¯ dangerous. 6. Amphibrachus, of a short, a long, and a short, as ˘ ¯ ˘ rejoiced.  
Many more divisions of feet are used by some, but these do more artificially comprehend all quantities necessary to the skannning of any verse, according to Tallaeus in his Kethorique. The place of the feet is the disposing of them in their proper rooms, whereby may be discerned the difference of each verse which is the right numbering of the same. Now as for the quantity of our words, therein lieth great difficulty, and the chiefest matter in this faculty. For in truth there being such diversity betwixt our words & the Latin, it cannot stand indeed with great reason that they should frame, we being only directe●… by such rules as serve for only Latin words, yet notwithstanding one may well perceive by these few, that these kind of verses would well become the speech, if so ●…ee there were such Rules prescribed, as would admit the placing of our aptest and fullest words together. For indeed excepting a few, if our Monasyllables, which naturally should most of them be long, we have almost none, that will stand ●…tlie in a short foot: and therefore if some exception were made against the precise observation of Position, and certain other of the rules, than might we have as great plenty and choice of good words to furnish & set forth a verse, as in any other tongue.  
Likewise if there were some derection in such words, as fall not within the compass of Greek or Latin rules, it were a great help, and thereof I had great miss in these few which I made. Such as is the last syllable in these words, able, noble, or possible and such like: again for the nature and force of our W. of our th', of our oo, and ee, of our words which admit an e in the end after one or two Consonantes, and many other. I for my part, though (I must needs confess) many faults escaped me in these few, yet look I as good heed as I could, and in truth did rather always omit the best words and such as would naturally become the speech best, them I would commit any thing, which should notoriously impugn the Latin rules, which herein I had only for my direction. Indeed most of our Monasyllables I am forced to make short, to supply the want of many short words requisite in these verses. The Participle A, being but the English article adjoined to Nouns, I alway●… make short, both alone & in ●…ōposition, and like wise the words of one syllable ending in E. as the, when it is an article, he, she, ye, etc. we I think should needs be always long because we pronounce continually We. I, being alone standing for the pronoun Ego, in my judgement might well be used common: but because I never saw it used but short I so observed it. Words ending in y I make short without doubt, saving that I have marked in others one difference which they use in the same, that is to make it short in the end ˘ of an Adverb, as gladly, and long in the end ˘ of an adjective as goodly: but the reason is as I take it, because the adjective is or should be most commonly written thus goodly. O, being an adverb is naturally long: in the end of words both Monasyllables and other I think it may be used common. The first of Pollisyllables I directed according to the nature of the word, as I thought most answerable to Latin examples, saving that somewhere I am constrained to strain courtesy with the preposition of a word compounded or such like, which breaketh no great square: as in defence or departed, etc. The middle syllables which are not very many, come for the most part under the precinct of Position, whereof some of them will not possibly abide the touch, and therefore must needs be a little wrested: such are commonly the Adverbs of three syllables, as mourn fully, spitefully and such like words, derived of this adjective, full: and therefore if there be great occasion to use them, they must be reform by detracting only (l) & then they stand meetly currant, as mournfuly. The last syllables I wholly directed so near as I could to the touch of common rules.  
The most famous verse of all the rest, is called Hexametrum Epicum, which consisteth of six feet, whereof the first four are indifferently either Spondaei or Dactyli, the fift is evermore a dactyl, and the sixth a Spondae, as thus. 
¯ ˘ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯  
Tityrus happily thou liest tumbling under a beetchtree.   
This kind of verse I have only seen to be practised in our English speech: and indeed will stand somewhat more order lie therein then any of the other kinds, until we have some toleration of words made by special rule. The first that attempted to practise this verse in English, should seem to be the Earl of Surry, who translated some part of Virgil into verse indeed, but without regard of true quantity of syllables. There is one famous Distichon, which is common in the months of all men, that was made by one Master Watson, fellow of S. john's College in cambridge about 40. years past, which for the sweetness and gallantness thereof in all respects doth math & surpass the Latin copy of Horace, which he made out of Homer's words, qui mores hominum, etc. 
¯˘˘¯¯¯˘˘¯¯¯˘˘¯¯  
All travelers do gladly report great praise of Ulysses:  
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯  
For that he knew many men's manners, and saw many cities.   
Which two verses if they be examined throughout all the rules and observations of the best versifying, shall be found to attain the very perfection of them all. There be two other not much inferior to these, which I found in the Gloss of E. K. upon the fift Eclogue of the new Poet: which Tully translated out of Greek into Latin, Haec habui quae edi etc. 
All that I eat did I joy and all that I greedily gorged.  
¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯  
As for those many goodly matters left I for others.   
Which though they will not abide the touch of Synalaepha in one or two places, yet perhaps some English rule which might with good reason be established, would make them currant enough, and avoid that inconvenience which is very obvious in our words. The great company of famous verses of this sort, which Master Harvey made, is not unknown to any and are to be viewed at all times. I for my part, so far as those examples would lead me, and mine own small skill afford me, have blundered upon these few, whereinto I have translated the two first AEglogues of Virgil: because I thought no matter of mine own invention, nor any other of antiquity more fit for trial of this thing, before there were some more special direction, which might lead to a less troublesome manner of writing. 

The Argument of the first Eclogue.  
Under the person of Tityrus Vyrgill being figured himself, declareth to Melibeus another Neateheard, the great benefits that he received at Augustus' hand, who in the spoil of Mantua gave him his goods and substance again.  Melibaeus. and Tityrus. 
TItyrus, happily thou list tumbling under a beech tree,  
All in a fine oat pipe these sweet songs lustily chanting:  
We, poor souls go to wrack, and from these coasts be removed,  
And fro our pastures sweet: thou Tityr, at ease in a shade plot  
Mak'st thick groves to resound with songs of brave Amarillis.  Tityrus. 
O Melibaeus, he was no man but a God who releeude me:  
Ever he shallbe my God: from this same Sheepcot his altars  
Never, a tender Lamb shall want, with blood to bedew them.  
This good gift did he give, to my steers thus freely to wander,  
And to myself (thou seest) on pipe to resound what I listed.  Melibaeus. 
grudge thee sure I do not, but this thing makes me to wonder,  
Whence comes all this ado: with grieevous pain not a little  
Can I remove my Goats: here, Tityre scant get I forward  
Poor old crone, two twins at a clap i'th' boisterous hasilles  
Left she behind, best hope i'my flock laid hard on a bare stone.  
Had not a luckless lot possessed our minds, I remember  
Warnings oft fro the blast burned oak we saw to be sent us.  
Oft did a left hand crow foretell these things in her hull tree,  
But this God let us hear what he was, good Tityre tell me.  Tityrus. 
That same City so brave which Rome was want to be called,  
Fool did I think, to be like this of ours, where we to the pastures  
Wonted were to remove from dams our young pretty cattle.  
Thus did I think young whelps, & Kids to be like to the mothers,  
Thus did I want compare many great things with many little.  
But this above all towns as loftily mounteth her high head,  
As by the low base shrubs tall Cypress shooteth above them.  Melibaeus. 
And what did thee move that needs thou must go to see Rome?  Tityrus. 
Freedom: which though late, yet once looked back to my poor state,  
After time when hairs from my beard did gin to be whitish:  
Yet looked back at last and found me out after a long time.  
When Amarillis was once obtained, Galatea departed:  
For (for I will confess) whilst as Galatea did hold me,  
Hope did I not for freedom, and care had I none to my cattle.  
Though many fair young beasts our fold for the altars aforded  
And many cheeses good fro my press were sent to the City:  
Seldom times did 〈◊〉 bring any store of pence fro the market.  Melibaeus. 
O Amarillis, wherefore, to thy Gods (very much did I marvel)  
heavily thou didst pray: ripe fruits ungathered all still:  
Tityrus is not at home: these Pine trees Tityre mist thee.  
Fountains longed for thee: these hedgrowes wished thy return bome  Tityrus. 
Wh●…t was then to be done? from bondage could not I wind out:  
Neither I could have found such gentle Gods any where else.  
There did I see (Melibaee) that youth whose hests I by course still  
Fortnight's whole to observe on the altars sure will I not fail.  
Thus did he gently grant to my suit when first I demanded.  
Keep your herds poor slaves as erst, let bulls to the makes still.  Melibaeus. 
Happy old man, than thou shalt have thy farm to remain still,  
Large and large to thyself, others nought but stony gravel:  
And foul slimy rush where with their lees be besprinkled.  
Hear no unwonted food shall grieve young thieves who be laded,  
Nor the infection's foul of neighbour's flock shall annoy them.  
Happy old man. In shaddowy banks and cool pretty places,  
Hear by the quainted floods and springs most holy remaining.  
Here, these quicksets fresh which lands sever out fro thy neighbours  
And green willow rows which Hiblae bees do rejoice in,  
Oft fine whistring noise, shall bring sweet sleep to thy senses.  
Under a Rock side here will proyner chant merry ditties.  
Neither on high Elm trees, thy beloved Doves loftilie sitting,  
Nor pretty Turtles trim, will cease to crook with a good cheer.  Tityrus. 
First, therefore swift bucks shall fly for food to the skies ward,  
And from fish with drawn broad seas themselves shall avoid hence:  
First, (both borders broke) Araxis shall run to the Parthanes,  
And likewise Tigris shall again run back to the Germans:  
Ere his countenance sweet shall slip once out from my heart root.  Melibaeus. 
We poor souls, must some to the land eald Africa pack hence.  
Some to the far Scythia, and some must to the swift flood Oaxis.  
Some to Britannia coasts quite parted far fro the whole world.  
Oh these pastures pure shall I near more chance to behold ye?  
And our cottage poor with warm turfs covered about trim.  
Oh these trim tiled lands, shall a reckless soldier have them?  
And shall a Barbarian have this crop? see what a mischief  
Discord vile hath araisde? for whom was our labour all took?  
Now Melibaee engrafted pearie stocks, set vines in an order.  
Now go (my brave flock once that were) O now go my kidling.  
Never again shall I now in a green bower sweetly reposed  
See ye in queachie briars far a loof clambering on a high hill.  
Now shall I sing no jygges, nor whilst I do fall to my junkets.  
Shall ye my Goats, cropping sweet flowers & leaves sit about me.  Tityrus. 
Yet thou mayst tarry here, and keep me company this night,  
All on a levy couch: good Apples ripe I do not lack,  
Chestnutts sweet good store, and plenty of curddes will I set thee.  
Mark i'the Town how chimney tops do begin to be smoking,  
And fro the mountains high how shadows grow to be larger.   

The second Eclogue called Alexis.  
The Argument.  
Virgil in the person of Corydon as some think, complaineth that he is not so gracious with Augustus as he would be: or else it is to be referred to a youth Alexander, which was given him of Asinius Pollio, whom he blameth for the unsteadfastness of his wit and wandering appetite, in refusing the friendly counsel which he used to give him.  
THat Shepherd Corydon did burn in love with Alexis,  
All his masters dear: and nought had he whereby to hope for.  
Only in beechen groves, and dolesome shaddowy places.  
Daily resorted he: there these rude disordered outcries,  
Hills and desert woods throughout thus mournfully tuned.  
O hard hearted Alex, hast thou no regard to my sweet song?  
Pyttiest me not a whit: yea mak'st me now that I shall die.  
Yet do the beasts find out fine shades and trim pretty cool plots,  
And fro the sun beams safe lie lyzardes under a bush●…ufte:  
And for workmen tough with boiling heat so beparched,  
Garlic savoury sweet and cool herbs plenty be dressed.  
But, by the scorched bank sides i'thy foot steps still I go plodding.  
Hedgerowes' hot do resound with Grashops mournfully squeaking.  
O had I not been better abid Amarillis her anger?  
And her proud disdain? yea better abide my Menalcas?  
What though brown did he seem? yea what though thou be so gallant  
O thou fine cherry cheeked child trust not t'much to thy beauty.  
Black violets are took when dayses white be refused.  
Me thou dost despise unknown to thyself yet Alexis:  
What be my riches great in neat, in milk what abundance.  
In Sicill hills be my Lambs of which there wander a thousand.  
All times, cold and hoteyet fresh milk never I wanted.  
Such be my Music notes, as (when his flocks he recalling)  
Amphion of Dirce did use on shore Aracynthus.  
Much misshaped I am not, for late in a bank I beheld me,  
When still seas were calm, to thy Daphnis need not I give place  
No, though thou be the judge, if pictures have any credit.  
O were thou content to remain with me by the downs here,  
In these lodgings small, and help me props to put under,  
And trim kydling flock with me to drive to the green fields:  
Pan in singing sweet with me shouldst bravely resemble:  
Pan, was first the inventor, pipes to adjoin in an order:  
Pan, poor flocks and Shepherds to most duly regardeth.  
Those fine lips thou needst not fear to bruise with a sweet pipe:  
What did Amynt forsake in'is excercise to be cunning?  
One pipe with seavene sundry stops matched sweetly together.  
Have I myself, Damaetas which athis death he bequeathed me,  
And said, here, thou art now the second which ever hath aught it.  
So said Damaetas: but Amyntas spitefully scorned it.  
Also, two pretty small wild kids, most goodly bespotted  
Have I, that here i'the dales do run scant safe I do fear me.  
Twice in a day two teats they suck: for thee will I keep them.  
Wondrous feign to have had them both was Thestylis of late:  
And so she shall: for I see thou scorn'st whatsoever I give thee.  
Come hither O thou sweet face boy: see see, to thyself here  
How fair Nymphs in baskets full do bring many Lilies:  
White violets sweet Nais plucks and blooms fro the Poppies,  
Narcyss, and dyll flowers most sweet that savoureth also.  
Casia, broad marry golds, with pancyes, and Hyacinthus.  
And I myself ripe peaches soft as silk will I gather.  
And such Chestnutts as Amarillis was wont to rejoice at.  
Ploms will I bring likewise: that fruit shall be honoured also.  
And ye O Laurel twigs shall I crop, and myrte thyself next.  
For ye be wont, (bound both in a bunch) most sweetly to savour.  
Thou art but a Clown Corydon: these gifts esteems not Alexis:  
Nor by thy gifts to obtain art meet to encounter jolas'.  
Wretch, (alas) what's this that I wish? south blasts to the young flowers  
Or clear crystal streams with loath some swine to be troubled?  
Ah mad boy from whom dost run? why Gods i'th' woods dwelled:  
And Paris erst of Troy: Pallas most gladly rejoiceth,  
In these bowers: and in trim groves we all chiefly delight us.  
Grim Lioness doth course cursed wolves, so wolves do the kydlinges.  
And these wantou kids likewise these fair Cytisus flowers.  
Thee Corydon (O Alex) some pleasure every wight pulls.  
See these yoked steers fro the plough now seem to be let lose.  
And these shadows large do declare this sun to departed hence  
Still I do burn in love. What mean in love to be looked for?  
Ah Corydon Corydon, what raging fury doth haunt thee,  
Half cropped down be thy wines and broad branched elms overhang them.  
Rather about some needful work now busy thyself well,  
Either on Osyers' tough or bulrush weave pretty basketts.  
And if Alexis scorn thee still, mayst hope for another.  
FINIS.    
I durst not enterprise to go any further with this rude translation: being for the respects aforesaid a troublesome and unpleasant piece of labour: And therefore these shall suffice till further occasion shall serve to employ some profitable pains in this behalf.  
The next verse in dignity to the Hexameters, is the Carmen Elegiacum which consisteth of four feet & two odd syllables: viz: the two first feet, either Dactyli or Spondaei indifferent, the one long syllable: next two Dactyli and an other long syllable ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ some do measure it in this sort (and more truly yet not so readily to all) accounting first two indifferently either Dactyli or Spondaei, than one Spondaei & two Anapaesti. But it cometh all to one reckoning. This verse is always unseprably adjoined unto the Hexameter, and serveth especially to the handling of love and dalliances, whereof it taketh the name. It will not frame altogether so currantlye in our English as the other, because the shortness of the second Penthimimer will hardly be framed to fall together in good sense, after the Latin rules. I have not seen very many of them made by any: and therefore one or two for example sake shall be sufficient.  
This Distichon out of ovid. 
Ingenium quondam fuerat pretiosius auro,  
At nunc barbaria est grandis habere nihil.   
May thus be translated. 
Learning once was thought to be better than any gold was,  
Now he that hath not wealth is but a barbarian.   
And this. 
Omnia sunt hominum tenui pendentia filo:  
Et subito casu quae valuere ruunt.  
'tis but a slender thread, which all men's states do depend on:  
And most goodly things quickly do fall to decay.   
As for the verses Phalocium and jambicum, I have not as yet made any trial in them: but the Sapphic I assure you, in my judgement will do very pretty, if that wants which I speak were once supplied. For trial of which I have turned the new Poets sweet song of Eliza into such homely Sapphick as I could.  
This verse consisteth of these five feet, one Chore, one spondae, one dactyl, and two Choreis, with this addition, that after every third verse be set one Adonium verse, which consisteth of a dactyl and a spondae. It is more troublesome and tedious to frame in our speech by reason they run without difference, every verse being a like in quantity throughout, yet in my judgement standeth meetly well in the same. I pray look the Copy which I have translated in the fourth Eclogue of the Shepherds' Calendar: that song of Colin's making which Hobbinoll singeth in praise of the queens majesty, under the name of Eliza. 

YE dainty Nymphcs that in this blessed brook,  
do bathe your breast:  
Forsake your watery bowers and hither look,  
at my request:  
And only you Virgins that on Parnass dwell.  
Whence floweth Helicon the learned well,  
help me to blaze  
her worthy praise  
That in her ser doth all excel.   

Of fair Eliza be your silver song  
that blessed wight:  
The flower of Virgins, may she flourish long,  
in princely plight.  
For she is Syrinx daughter without spot,  
Which Pan the shepherds God on her begot:  
so sprang her grace,  
of heavenly race,  
No mortal blemish may her blot.   

See where she sits. etc.,    
The Saphick verse. 

¯ ˘ ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ¯  
¯ ˘ ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ¯  
¯ ˘ ¯ ¯ ¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ˘ ¯ ¯  
¯ ˘ ˘ ¯ ¯   

O ye Nymphs most fine who resort to this brook,  
For to baths there your pretty breasts at all times:  
Leave the waterish bowers, hither and to me come  
at my request now.   

And ye Virgins trim who resort to Parnass,  
Whence the learned well Helicon beginneth:  
Help to blaze her worthy deserts, that all else  
mounteth above far.   

Now the silver songs of Eliza sing ye,  
Princely wight whose peer not among the virgins  
Can be found: that long she may remain among us.  
now let us all prey.   

For Syrinx daughter she is, of her begotten  
Of the great God pan, thus of heaven ariseth,  
All her exc'llent race: any mortal hard hap  
cannot approach her.   

See, she sits most seemly in a grassy green plot,  
Cl●…thed in weeds meet for a princely maiden,  
Boast with Ermines white, in a goodly scarlet  
bravely beseeming.   

Decked is that crown that upon her head stands  
With the red Rose and many Daffodils.  
Bays, the Primrose and violets, be set by: how  
joyful a sight is't.   

Say, behold did ye ever her Angelic face,  
Like to Phoebe fair? or her heavenly haviour,  
And the princelike grace that in her remaineth?  
have ye the like seen?   

Meddled is't red rose with a white together  
Which in either cheek do depeinct a trim cheer,  
Her majesty and eye to behold so comely, her  
like who remembreth?   

Phoebus once péept forth with a goodly guilt hew,  
For to gaze: but when he saw the bright beams  
Spread abroad fro'her face with a glorious grace,  
it did amaze him.   

When another sun he beheld below here,  
Blushed he red for shame, nor again be durst look:  
Would he durst bright beams of his own with hers match,  
for to be vanquished.   

Show thyself now Cynthia with thy clear rays,  
And behold her: never abashed be thou so:  
When she spreads those beams of her heavenly beauty, how  
thou art in a dump dashed?   

But I will take heed that I match not her grace,  
With the Laton seed, Niobe that once did,  
Now she doth therefore in a stone repent: to all  
other a warning.   

Pan be may well boast that he did begit her  
Such a noble wight, to Syrinx is it joy,  
That she found such lot with a bellibone trim  
for to be loaden.   

When my younglings first to the dams do bleat out,  
Shall a milk white Lamb to my Lady be offered:  
For my Goddess shée-is yea I myself her Heardgrome  
though but a rude Clown.   

Unto that place Calliope doth high her,  
Where my Goddess shines: to the same the Muser  
After her with sw●…te ●…iolincs about them  
cheerfully tracing.   

Is not it bay branch that aloft in hands they have,  
Eune to give them sure to my Lady Eliza:  
D so sweet they playand to the same do sing too  
heaunly to hear ist.   

See, the Grace's trim to the stroke do foot it,  
Deftly dancing, and merriment do make them,  
Sing to the-instruments to rejoice the more. but  
wants not a fourth grace?   

Then the dance will be eune, to my Lady therefore  
shallbe geune that place, for a grace she shall be  
For to fill that place that among them in heaven, ●…e  
may be received.   

This bevy of bright Nymphs, whether is't go they now?  
Ranged all thus fine in a row together?  
They be Ladies all i'the Lake behight so?  
they thither all go.   

One that is there chief that among the rest goes,  
Called is Chores of olives she bears a  
Goodly Crownett, meet for a Prince that in peace  
ever abideth.   

All ye shepherds maids that about the green dwell,  
Speed ye there to her grace, but among ye take heed  
All be virgins pure that approach to deck her,  
duty requireth.   

When ye shall present ye before her in place,  
See ye not yourselves do demean too rudely:  
Bind the ●…llets: and to be fine the waste girt  
fast with a tawdryne   

Bring the Pinks therewith many Gelliflowres sweet,  
And the Cullambynes: let us have the Wlynesops',  
With the Cornation that among the love lads  
wentes to be worn much.   

Daffadowndillies all a long the ground strow,  
And the Cowslyppe with a pretty paunce let here lie.  
Kyngcuppe and Lilies so beloved of all men.  
And the deluce flower.    
One verse there remaineth untransilated as yet,- with some other of this sort, which I meant to have finished, but by reason of some let which I had, I am constrained to defer to some other time, when I hope to gratify the Readers with more and better verses of this sort: for in truth I am persuaded a little pain taking might furnish our speech with as much pleasant delight in this kind of verse, as any other whatsoever.  

Hear follow the Cannons or general cautions of Poetry, prescribed by Horace, first gathered by Georgius Frabricius Cremnicensis: which I thought good to annex to this Trearise, as very necessary observations to be marked of all Poets.  

In his Epistle ad Pisones de arte Poetica.  
FIrst let the invention be meet for the matter, not differing, or strange, or monstrous. For a woman's head, a horse neck, the body of a divers coloured Bird, and many members of sundry creatures compact together, whose legs ending like a fishes tail: this in a picture is a wonderful deformity: but if there be such diversity in the frame of a speech. what can be more uncomely or ill-favoured?  
2. The ornaments or colours must not be too many, nor rashly adventured on, neither must they be used every where and thrust into every place.  
3. The propriety of speech must be duly observed, that weighty and great matters be not spoken slenderly, or matters of length too briefly: for it belongeth much both to the comeliness and nature of a matter: that in big matters there be likewise used boisterous words.  
4 In Poetical descriptions, the speech must not exceed all credit, nor any thing feignedly brought in, against all course of nature.  
5 The disposing of the work must be such, that there be no offence committed, as it were by too cxquisite diligence: for many things may be oft committed, and some thing by too curious handling be made offensive. Neither is it in one part to be well furnished, and in another to be neglected. Which is proved by example of a Carver, who expressed very artificially the head and upper part of a body, but the rest he could not make an end of. A●…aine, it is proved thus, that a body should not be in other parts beautiful, and yet be deformed in the crooked nose: for all the members in a well shapen body must be answerable, sound, and well proportioned.  
6. He that taketh in hand to write any thing must first take heed that he be sufficient for the same: for o●…ten unwary fools through their rashness are overtook with great want of ability  
7. The ornament of a work consisteth in words, and in the manner of the words, are either simple or mixed, new or old, proppar or translated. In them all good judgement must be used and ready wit. The chiefest grace is in the most frequented words, for the same reason holdeth in words, as doth in coins, that the most used and tried are best esteemed.  
8. The kind of verse is to be considered and aptly applied to the argument, in what measure is most meet for every sort. The most usual kinds are four, the Heroic, Eelegiac, iambic, and Lyric.  
9 One must use one kind of speech alike in all writings. Sometime the Lyric riseth aloft, sometime the comical. To the Tragical writers belong properly the big and boisterous words. Cramples must be interplaced according fitly to the time and place.  
10. Regard is to be had of affections: one thing becometh pleasant persons, an other sad, an other wrathful, an other gentle, which must all be héedefully respected. Three things therefore are requisite in verses, beauty, sweetness, and the affection. Theophrastus saith that this beauty or delectableness is a deceit, and Aristotle calleth it 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a momentany tyranny. Sweetness retaineth a Reader, affection moveth him.  
11 Every person must be fitted accordingly. and the speech well ordered: wherein are to be considered the dignity, age, sex, fortune, condition, place, Country, etc., of each person.  
12 The persons are either to be feigned by the Poets themselves, or borrowed of others, if he borrow them, then must he observe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is, that he follow that Author exactly whom he purposeth to imitate, and whereout he bringeth his examples. But if he fain new persons, then must he keep his 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that is equally: so bringing them in each place, that it be always agreeable, and the last like unto the first, and not make one person now a bold boaster, and the same straightways a wise wary man, for that is passing absurd. Again, every one must observe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which is interpreted convenientiam fitness: as it is meet and agreeable every where, a man to be stout, a woman fearful, a servant crafty, a young man gentle.  
13 Matters which are common may be handled by a Poet as they may be thought proper to himself alone. All matters of themselves are open to be entreated of by any man: but if a thing he handled of some one in such sort, as he thereby obtain great praise, he maketh it his own or proper to himself, as many did write of the Trojan war, but yet Homer made matter which was common to all, proper to himself.  
14 Where many things are to be taken out of ancienter tongues, as the Latins took much out of the Greeks, the words are not so precisely to be followed, but that they be altered according to the judgement and will of the Immitator, which precept is borrowed of Tully, Non verbum verbo necesse est reddere.  
15. The beginning must not be foolishly hand●…ed, that is, strangely or too long.  
16. The proposition or narration let it n●…t be far fetched or unlikely, and in the same forget not the differences of ages and persons.  
17. In a Comedy it is needful to exhibit all the actions openly, as such as are cruel, unhonest, or ugly, but such things may better be declared by some meet and handsome words, after what sort they are supposed to be done.  
18. If a Commedye have more Acts than five, it is tedious, if fewer, it is not sufficient.  
It fytteth not to bring in the persons of Gods, but in very great matters. Cicero saith, when the Tragedy writers cannot bring their matters to good pass, they run to God. Let not more persons speak together then four for annoying confusion.  
The Choruses must be well garnished & set forth: wherein either men are admonished, or reprehended, or counseled unto virtue. Such matter must be chosen for the Chorus, as may be meet and agreeable to that which is in hand. As for instruments and singing, they are Relics of old simplicity. For the Music commonly used at theatres and the licentiousness of their songs, which together with their wealth increased among the Romans, is hurtful to discipline and good manners.  
19 In a satire the clownish company and rural Gods, are brought in to temperate the Heaviness of Tragedies, with some mirth and pastime. In jesting it must be observed that it be not lacyvious or Rybaldlike, or slanderous, which precept holdeth generally in all sorts of writings.  
In a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 heed is to be taken, of the place, of the day, and of the persons: as of Bacchus, Silenus, or the satires. Again of the unméetnesse or inconvenience of the matter, and of the words that they be fitted according to the persons: of Decorum, that he which represented some noble parsonage in the Tragedy, be not some busy fool in the satire: finally of the hearers, lest they be offended by mixing filthy matters with jests, wanton toys with unhonest, or noisome with merry things.  
20. The feet are to be applied proper to eucry kind of verse, & therein a Poet must not use too much licence or boldness. The ancient writers in iambic verses used at first pure iambics: Afterwards Spondaeus was admitted into Locos impares, but at last such was the licentious custom, that they would both Spondaeus where they listed, and other feet without regard.  
21. In compyling of verses great care and circumspection must be used.  
Those verses which be made Extempore, are of no great estimation: those which are unartificial, are utterly repelled as too foolish. Though many do lightlic regard our verses, yet ought the Carelessness of the hearers to be no cause in us of error and negligence. Who desireth to make any thing worthy to be heard of learned ears, let him read Greek Authors heedefullie and continually.  
22. Arts have their increasings even as other things, being natural, so have Tragedies which were first rudely invented by Thespis, at last were much adorned by AEschylus: at the first they were practised in villages of the Country, afterwards brought to stages in great Cities.  
23. Some Arts do increase, some do decay by a certain natural course. The old manner of Comedies decayed, by reason of slandering which therein they used against many, for which there was a penalty appointed, lest their bitterness should proceed too far: In place of which among the Latins came the satires.  
The ancient Authors of Comedies, were Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes, of the middle sort, Plato Comicus, of the last kind Menander, which continued and was accounted the most famous.  
24. A Poet should not content himself only with others inventions, but himself also by the example of old writers should bring something of his own industry, which may be laudable. So did they which writ among the Latins the Comedies called Togatae, whose arguments were taken from the Greeks, and the other which writ the Pretextatae, whereof the arguments were Latin.  
25. Héedefulnesse and good composition maketh a persecte verse, and that which is not so may be reprehended. The faculty of a good wit exceedeth Arte.  
26. A Poet that he may be perfect, hath need to have know ledge of that part of Philosophy which informeth the life to good manners. The other which pertaineth to natural things, is less plausible, hath fewer ornaments, and is not so profitable.  
27. A Poet to the knowledge of Philosophy should also add greater experience, that he may know the fashions of men and dispositions of people. This profit is got by tra●…elling, that whatsoever he writeth he may so express 〈◊〉 order it, that his narration may be formable.  
28. The end of Poetry is to write pleasant things, and profitable. Pleasant it is which delighteth by being not too long, or uneasy to be kept in memory, and which is somewhat likely, and not altogether sorged. Profitable it is, which 〈◊〉 r up the minds to learning and wisdom.  
29. Certain escapes are to be pardoned in some Poets, specially in great works. A fault may be committed either in respect of his proper Art, or in some other Art: that a Poet should err in precepts of his own art, is a shameful thing, to commit a fault in another Art is to be borne withal: as in Virgil, who fayveth that AEneas coming into Africa sl●…w with his dart certain Stags, whereas indeed Africa hath in it none of those beasts. Such errors do happen either by vn●…defulnes, when one escapeth them by negligence: or by the common fragility of man, because none there is which can know all things. Therefore this last kind of error is not to be stuck upon.  
30. A good Poet should have respect to this, how to retain his Reader or hearer. In a picture some thing delighteth being set far of, something nearer, but a Poet should delight in all places as well in sun as shadow.  
31. In a Poet is no mean to be admitted, which if he be not he of all is the worst of all.  
32 A Poem if it run not sweetly and smoothly is odious: which is proved by a simile of the two senses, hearing and tasting, as in sweet and pleasant meats. And the Poem must be of that sort, that for the sweetness of it may be acceptable and continue like itself unto the end, lest it weary or drive away a Reader.  
33. He that would write any thing worthy the posterity, let him not enterprise any thing whereunto his nature is not agreeable. Mercury is not made of wood (as they say) neither doth Minerva favour all studies in every one. In all Art's nature is the best help, and learned men use commonly to say that A Poet is as well borne as made a Poet.  
34 Let no man esteem himself so learned, but that he may submit his writings to the judgements of others, and correct and thoroughly amend the same himself.  
35 The profit of Poetry sprang thus, for that the ancient wise men set down the best things that pertained to man's life, manners, or felicity, and examining and proving the same by long experience of time, when they were aged they published them in writings. The use of Poetry what it was at the first, is manifest by the examples of the most learned men: as of Orpheus who first builded houses: of Amphion who made Cities: of Tyrtaeus who first made war: of Homer, who writ most wisely.  
36 In an artificial Poet three things are requisite, nature, Art, and diligence.  
37 A writer must learn of the learned, and he must not stick to confess when he erreth: that the worse he may learn to avoid, and know how to follow the better.  
The confession of an error betoken a noble and a gentle mind. Celsus and Quintilian do report of Hypocrates, that lest he should deceive his posterity, he confessed certain errors, as it well became an excellent minded man, and one of great credit. For (as saith Celsus) light wits because they have nothing, will have nothing taken from them.  
38. In making choice of such friends as should tell us the truth, and correct our writings, heedful judgement must be used: lest either we choose unskilful folk, or flatterers, or dissemblers. The unskilful know not how to judge, flatterers fear to offend, dissemblers in not praising do seem to commend.  
39 Let no man deceive himself, or suffer himself to be deceived, but take some grave learned man to be judge of his doing, and let him according to his counsel change and put out what he thinketh good.  
40. He which will not slatter and is of ability to judge, let him endeavour to nothing so much, as to the correction of that which is written, and that let be done with earnest and exquisite judgement. He which doth not thus, but offendeth wilfully in breaking his credit●… too rashly, may be counted for a mad, furious, and frantic fool.  
41. The faults commonly in verses are seven, as either they be destitute of Art, of facility, or ornament: or else, they be superfluous, obscure, ambitious, or peerless.   

Out of the Epistles ad Mecaenatem, Augustum, & Florum.  
42 An imitation should not be too servile or superstitious, as though one durst not vary one jot from the example: neither should it be so senseless or unskilful, as to imitate things which are absurd, and not to be followed.  
43 One should not altogether tread in the steps of others, but sometime he may enter into such waves as have not boene haunted or used of others. Horace borrowed the iambic verse of Archilocus, expressing fully his numbers and eleganty, but his unseemly words and prattling taunts he most wyshlye shunned.  
44 In our verses we should not gape after the phrases of the simpler sort, but striu●… to have our writings allowable in the judgements of learned men.  
45. The common people's judgements of Poets is seldom true, and therefore not to be sought after. The vulgar sort in Rome judged Pacu●…ious to be very learned, Accius to be a grave writer, that Aff●…ius followed Menander, Plautus, Ep●…charmus: that Terence excelled in Art Caecilius in gravity: but the learned sort were not of this opinion. There is extant in Macrobius (I know not whether Angellius) the like verdict concerning them which writ Epigrams. That Catullus and calvus writ few things that were good, Naevius obscure, Hō●…tensius uncomely, Cynna unpleasant, and Memmius rough.  
46. The old writers are so far to be commended, as nothing be taken from the new: neither may we think but that the way lieth open still to others to attain to as great matters. Full well said Sidonius to Eucherius, I reverence the old writers, yet not so as though I less esteemed the virtues and deserts of the writers in this age.  
47. Newness is grateful if it be learned: for certain it is, Arts are not both begun and perfected at once, but are increased by time and study: which notwithstanding when they are at the full perfection, do debate and decrease again.  
Cic. de orat. There is nothing in the world which bursteth out all at once, and cometh to light all wholly together.  
48. No man should dare to practise an Art that is dangerous, especially before he have learned the same perfectly: so do guyders of ships: so do Physicians: but so did not many Roman Poets (yea so do not too many English writers) who in a certain courageous heat gaped after glory by writing verses, but few of them obtained it.  
49. A Poet should be no less skilful in dealing with the affects of the mind, than a tumbler or a Juggler should be ready in his Arte. And with such pith should he set forth his matters, that a Reader should seem not only to hear the thing, but to see and be present at the doing thereof. Which faculty Fabius calleth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and Aristotle 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
50. Poets are either such as desire to be liked of on stages, as Comedy and Tragedy writers: or such as would be registered in Libraries. Those on stages have special respect to the motions of the mind, that they may stir both the eyes and ears of their beholders. But the other which seek to please privately with the walls, take good advisement in their works, that they may satisfy the exact judgements of learned men in their studies.  
51 A Poet should not be too importunate, as to offend in unseasonable speeches: or ungentle, as to contemn the admonitions of others: or ambitious, as to think too well of his own doings: or too wayward, as to think, reward enough cannot be given him for his desert, or finally too proud, as to desire to be honoured above measure.  
52 The emendations of Poems be very necessary, that in the obscure points many things may be enlightened, in the base parts many things may be thoroughly garnished. He may take away and put out all proper & unseemly words, he may with discretion imitate the ancient writers, he may abridge things that are too lofty, mitigate things that are too rough, and may use all remedies of speech throughout the whole work. The things which are scarce seemly, he may amend by Art and method.  
53 Let a Poet first take upon him, as though he were to play but an Actor's part, as he may be esteemed like one which writeth without regard, neither let him so polish his works, but that every one for the baseness thereof, may think to make as good. He may likewise exercise the part of gesturer, as though he seemed to meddle in rude and common matters, and yet not so deal in them, as it were for variety sake, nor as though he had laboured them thoroughly but tryfled with them, nor as though he had sweat for them, but practised a little. For so to hide one's cunning, that nothing should seem to be laboursome or exquisite, when notwithstanding, every part is polished with care and study, is a special gift which Aristotle calleth 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
54. It is only a point of wisdom, to use many and those elegant words, but to understand also and to set forth things which pertain to the happy end of man's life. Whereupon the Poet Horace, calleth the Art poetical, without the knowledge of learning and philosophy, a prating vanity. Therefore a good and allowable Poet, must be adorned with words, plcutious in sentences, and if not equal to an Drator, yet very near him, and a special lover of learned men.    
FINIS.   

Epilogus.  
THis small travel (courteous Reader) I desire thee take in good worth: which I have compiled, not as an exquisite censure concerning this matter, but (as thou mayst well perceive, and) in truth to that only end that it might be an occasion, to have the same thoroughly and with greater discretion, taken in hand and laboured by some other of greater ability: of whom I know there be many among the famous Poets in London, who both for learning and ley sure, may handle this Argument far more pythilie th●… myself. Which if any of them will vouchsafe to do, I trust we shall have English Poetry at a higher price in short space: and the rabble of bald Rhymes shall be turned to famous works, comparable (I suppose) with the best works of Poetry in other tongues. In the mean time, if my poor skill, can set the same any thing forward, I will not cease to practise the same towards the framing of some apt English Prosodia: still hoping, and heartily wishing to enjoy first the benefit of some others judgement, whose authority may bear greater credit, and whose learning can better perform it.