sº #. rº- Ëſſſſſſſſſſ|||||||||||||||||||||||||||| # fift TT iſſ ūIIITIIIHIIIHIII Imm fift E. āE *Œ- } {№j #· sº º: º: º º T º T º E. II. #ll ! *…*…！！！！-------į.№·…！ --（（（---）v · · · · · ---- - --- :-（': 'r- -، ı. . } ）*' ， ', …%）， ~ ~- …---ſae！！！!！！！ · · · *r，-№±§§§-¿*§§§§§§ģ№ĒĢaeſaeae…¿Eſſae、、。--·（±， ±№§§ №țiț¢ĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĒĖĖʧ§§-############Ķg#####Ě№， №8#######±§§§§§Ķī£;###-ſaecae#ĢË|-±！&&- ，¿№§§§ ^ º CŞ / ' ' S (Trºc （), Y, TR 23#2 A4 J74? £nglish lieprints. Sir PHILIP SIDNEY. N APOLOGIE For POETRIE. I595. CAREFULLY Epſted By EDWARD ARBER, 4/ociate, King’s College, London, F.R.G.S., &c. . . . . . LONDON : -- ALEX, MURRAY & SON, 30, QUEEN SQUARE, W.C. - 1 April, 1868. &nt. Stat. Hall.] SIXPENCE. [All Rights reſerved. ~~~~~. t ** ‘gº º, r \, *.* tº ...—sº :-": . **.*.*.*~#;"f*~#35 ºzłł, º Aº-º-º: tº ºr # *: &S # *…. * * * cow TEN 7S. CHRONICLE of the Life, &c., of Sir P. Sidney . . INTRODUCTION, . . . de § * * BIBLIOGRAPHY, . º º tº • {} tº AAW AA’OZOG/AE APOR AOA. TRZAE, I. To the Reader. e * ſº tº 2. Four Sonnets by Henry Conſtable . & g e 3. ARGUMENT AND DEFINITIONS. John Pietro Pugliano. Poetry is of all human learning the moſt ancient, and of moſtfatherly antiquity. Fromitſprangallother knowledge. Poetry is ſo univerſal, that no learned nation deſpiſes it, and no barbarous nation is without it. . & º Etymology of Poetry, pp. 23–29. The Pſalms [=ſongs] Both Romans and Greeks gaue divine names to it, the one of prophecying, the other of making tº Indeed, that name of making is fit for Poeſy. Whereas other arts retain themſelves within their ſubject, and receive as it were their being from it; the Poet only, brings his own ſtuff, does not learn a conceit out of a matter, but makes matter for a conceit . {º g Poeſy is an art of imitation, for ſo Ariſtotle terms it in his word Mime/s, i. e. a repreſenting, counterfeiting or figuring forth ; to ſpeake metaphorically, a ſpeaking pićture : with this end to teach and delight. tº & Of this there have been three kinds. I. Sacred poe- try, in the Scriptures and hymns to the Heathen gods. 2. Philoſophical poetry. 3. ‘The right poets,’ they which moſt properly do imitate to teach and delight. ‘Verſe is but an ornament and no cauſe to Poetry.’. Although indeed, the Senate of Poets have choſen verſe as their fitteſt raiment; meaning, that asin matter. they paſſed all in all, ſo in manner to go beyond them Anatomy of the effects of Poetry, pp. 29–43. ‘This puri- fying of wit, enriching of memory, enabling of judgement and enlargingofoonceit, which commonly we call learning’ The ending endofallearthly learningis vertuousa&tion. In this moſt excellent work, Poetry is the moſt excellent workman. e e e º º § e 29 Anatomy of the parts of Poetry, Žp. 43–48 Obiedźions to Poetry an/ºvered, ſºft. 48–60. 14 Oly. A man might better ſpend his time. Azus, ‘I utterly deny there is ſprung outamore fruitful knowledge’ 51 2nd Oly. It is the mother of lies. Ams. The Poet º s affirms nothing, and therefore never lies g e 5I 3rd Off. It is the nurse of abuſe. Ans. Man's wit . abuſe: Poetry, not Poetry man’s wit. * 53 4th Obj, Plato baniſhed Poets out of his republic. | Ams. He baniſhed the abuſe of Poetry, not the thing itſelf 56 Criticiſm of the then exiſting Æzagliſh poetry, Žp. 60–71. Its matter p. 60. Its dićtion. . . . 68 Peroration * e * e | gr. 3.a.6 • 2, £4 - 4…. CHRONICLE £12.4 ºt of /* - 26 - 3/ ſome of the principal events 344/.3% in the LIFE, WO R Ks, and TIMES of Master, afterwards Sir PHILIP SIDNEY, Courtier, Ambassador, Poet, Romancist, Critic, and Soldier. * Probable or approximate dates. 1553. 3ſulp 6. ſilärp 5ucceeds to tijº crotum. 1554. July 25. Queen Mary marries Philip, King of Spain. Nov. 29. PHILIP SIDNEY ‘was son of Sir Hen. Sidney by the lady Mary his wife, eldest daughter of Joh. Dudley duke of Northumberland, was born, as 'tis supposed, at #jº. in Kent, 29 Nov. 1554, and had his Christian name given to him by his father, from K. Philip, then lately married to Queen Mary.”—Wood, Ath. Oxon. i. 517. Ed. 1813. Philip is the eldest of three sons, and four daughters. 1558. ſlob. 17. 33ſt; abetſ) begins to reign. 1560. Sir Henry Sidney is made Lord President of Wales, which office he holds till his df ath. He resides, when in the Principality, chiefly at Ludlow. He is three times Lord Deputy of Ireland, between 1565–67, 1568–71 and 1577–78. He is installed K. G. May 14, 1564. ſ 1564. Oct. 17. Philip Sidney and Fulke Greville, both of the same age, - aet. 9. and who became friends for life, enter Shrewsbury School on the same day.—‘Azzzzo Domezzzz 1564. 16 Cal. Moz. I’hilippus Sidney filius et ſhares Henrici Sidney Militis de Pensars; in Commit. Cazzłża, et Dozyzzzzz Prae- sidis confiniumz Cambriae, nec mont Ordini's Garterii Mz/ztzs. Foulkus Greywell ſºlius et haeres Foulki Greywell Armigeri de Beauchamp Courte in Comit. Warwict. eodeme die. School Register: see Sidneiana Roxburghe Clube 1837. Fulke Greville thus testifies of his schoolfellow ‘‘ of whose Youth I will report no other wonder, but thus; That though I lived with him, and knew him from a child, yet I never knew him other than a man : with such staiednesse of mind, lovely, and fami- liar gravity, as carried grace, and reverence above greater years. His talk ever of knowledge, and his very play tending to enrich his mind: So as even his teachers found something in him to observe, and learn, above that which they had usually read, or taught. Which eminence, by nature, and industry, made his worthy Father stile Sir Philº in my hearing (though I unseen) Azczyzen familiae szeat.” F. 3. in his posthumous Life of Sir P. Sidney, Ž. 7. Ed. 1652. * 1568° Midsummer. “While he was very young, he was sent to Christ aet. 13 Ch. to be improved in all sorts of learning, and was con- temporary there with Rich. Carew author of The Szer- zey of Corzizwall, where continuing till he was about I7 years of age, under the tuition of Dr. Tho. Thornton, \ canon of that house.”—Wood, ident. : CAEROAVC/A3. ſts/2. I573. | I574. I 575. / I575. I577. i May 25. aet. I'7. Summer. May 31. 8èt. 2C. July 9-27 8°t. 22. Feb. *22. June 8. May. August. Oct. 16. Dec. Oct. 18 act. 25. The Queen grants Philip Sidney, license to go abroad with three servants and four horses: (May 26) Leaves London, in the train of the Earl of Lincoln, Ambassador to the French King : (Aug. 9) Charles ix. makes him one of the gentlemen of his Chamber: (Aug. 24) The Massacre of St. Bartholomew. Sidney being in the house of the English Ambassador, Sir Raj. Walsing- ham, is safe : He however soon leaves Paris, journeys by Heidelberg to Frankfort, where he meets Hubert Languet, aet. 54. He stays at Frankfort about nine months. They two then go to Vienna : where, after some trips to Hungary, Sidney leaves Languet, and spends eight months in Italy; chiefly in Venice, Padua, and Genoa. He returns to Vienna in Nov. Spends hi winter there (see p. 19), and coming home through the Low Countries; reaches Fngland (May 31. 1575). Introduced to Court, by his uncle, the E. of Leicester. ee p. O. . Is at the famous reception given by his uncle to the Queen, at Kenilworth. The Court moves to Chartley castle, where Philip is supposed first to have seen Stella (Penelope, aet. 13, daughter of Lord Essex, and after- wards Lady Rić). The sonnets Astrophel and Stell go on for the next five or six years. Sidney is sent as Ambassador, with messages of condo lence to Rodolph II. the new Emperor of Germany, at Prague; and to the two sons of the Frederic III. lat Elector Palatine : viz. Lewis (now Elector) and Joh Casimir, at Heidelberg. On the Court coming to his uncle's, at Wanstead, Sidne writes a masque The Lady of the May. Sidney becomes acquainted with Gabriel Harvey, and through him with Edmund Spenser. Stephen Gosson publishes the The Schoole of Abuse. E. Spenser writes to G. Harvey, Sidney's idea of it. [Ezyt. Stat. Hall 5 Dec..] Spenser's She/herd's Calendar. Sidney writes to the Queen, against her marrying the Duke of Anjou. Jointly with his sister Mary, translates Psalms of David. Writes The A 2-cadia, , Sidney writing from Leicester House, to his brother Robert, aet. 17. (afterwards Earl of Leicester) then travelling in Germany; gives him, in a long and brotherly letter, his ideas on the study of history. This confi. dential letter shows that Sidney's mind was, at this time. ñúch occupied with the consideration of subjects deal with in the Azºologie, to which it may be considered as a forerunner. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " -- “For the Method of writing Historie, Boden hath written at large, yow may reade him, and gather out of many Wordes some Matter. This I thinke in Haste, a Story is either to be considered as a Storie, or as a Treatise, which, besides that, addeth many Thinges for Profite and Ornament; as a Story, he is nothing but a Narration of Thinges done, with the Beginings, Cawses, and Appendences thereof. . . . . in that Kinde yow haue principally to note the Examples of Vertue or Vice, with their good or evell Successes, the Establishments or Ruines of great Estates, with the Cawses, the Tyme, and Circumstances of the Lawes then write of, the Entrings and Endings of Warrs, and therein, the Strata- gems against the Enimy, and the Discipline vpon the Soldiour; and thus much as a very Historiographer. CHA’OAVYCZAZ. - 5 Besides this, the Historian makes himselfe a Discourser for Profite, and an Orator, yea a Poet sometimes for Ornament. An Orator, in making excellent Orations, e ze mata, which are to be marked, but marked with the Note of Rhetoricall Remembrances: A Poet in painting forth the Effects, the Motions, the Whisperings of the People, which though in Disputation, one might say were true, yet who will make them well, shall finde them taste of a Poetical Vaine, and in that Kinde are gallantly to be marked, for though perchance º were not so, yet it is enough they might be so. The last Poynt which tendes to teach Profite, is of a Discourser, which Name I giue to who soeuer speakes, Non simpliciter de facto, seal de Qualitatibus et circumstantiffs ſacá; ; and that is it which makes me, and many others, rather note much with our Penn then with our Minde. . . . . This write I to yow in greate Hast, of Method without Method, but with more Leysure and Studie (if I doe not finde some Booke that satisfies) I will venter to write more largely vinto yow.” . . . . Arthur Collin'.' Detters and Memorials of State, i. 283-5. Ed. 1746. 158". Jan. 16-Mar. 18. Parliament sits. Sidney is for the first time a Member. Sept. 30. Languet dies at Antwerp. Sidney writes An Apologie for Poetrie. 1583. Jan. 8. The Queen knights him. * Mar, aet. 29. He maries Frances, daughter of Sir F. Walsingham. 1584. Nov. 23.-1585. Mar. 29. Parliament sits. Sidney a second time a member. Writes /Xzscozerse 22, Defence of the Earl of Leicester. His daughter Elizabeth born [aſterward the Countess \ of Rutland]. Projects an expedition to America, with Sir F. Drake. : Nov. 1. Is appointed Governor of Flushing : Nov. 16. Leaves England for the last time : Nov. 21. Assumes his office. 1586. May 5. His father Sir H. Sidney dies at Worcester. to July 6. Sidney, with 3ooo men, surprises Axel. .# Aug. 9. His mother Lady Mary Sidney dies. 2 Sept. 22. At the fight at Zutphen, Sidney “recey'ved a sor É Wounde upon his Thighe, three Fingers above his Knee, **** the 13ome broken quite in Peeces. . . . . He was carried C afterwards in my barge to Armſteinſt.” E. of Leicester. 3. See Collin's Memoirs of the Sidneys, A. Ios. § Oct. 17. Sidney lingers 26 days. His wife and brother join > 2 p.m. aet. 31. him. His last words were—Loze my Memorie, cheris; Ö 7/zy Friends, their Faith to me may assure yout they tions, by the Will and Word of your Creator; in mte, beholding the end of this World, with all her Vanities. His body was removed (Oct. 24) to Flushing; embarked (Nov. 1) there for conveyance to London; landed (Nov. 5) at Tower-hill, and taken to a house in the Minories, without Aldgate ; where it remained, until the public ſuneral (Feb. 16. 1587) at St. Paul's. England goes into mourning for him. \ were honest. But above all, govern your Will and Affec- In place of fuller details of Sidney's life, which will be found in he works of A. Collins, Dr. T. Zouch, and H. R. F. Bourne, we may obtain a better impression of his character, by adducing the independent testimony of four contemporaries, all competent to know the truth, and nonc apparently ex- aggerating it. The first three come to us through Fulke Greville. See Life, pp. 31–34. 1. William of Nassau, ‘William the Silent,’ Prince of Orange, requested Greville to tell his Queen “that if he could judge, her Majesty had one of the ripest, and greatest Counsellors of Estate in Sir Philip Sidney, that at this day lived in Europe; to the triall of which hee (the Prince] was pleased to leave his owne credit engaged, untill her Majesty might please to employ this Gentleman, either amongst her friends or enemies.” 6 CHRONICZE, 2. Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, his uncle, “told me (after Sir Philºs, and not long before his own death) that when he undertook the government of the Low Countries, he carryed his Nephew over with him, as one amongst the rest, not only despising his youth for a Counsellor, but withall bearing a hand over him as a forward young man. Notwithstanding in short time he saw this Sun so risen above his Horizen, that both he and all his Stars were glad to fetch light from him. And in the end acknowledged that he held up the honor .# his casual authority by him, whilst he lived, and found reason to withdraw himself from that burthen, after his death.” 3. Sir Francis Walsingham, his Father-in-law “that wise and active Secretarie . . . . . often confessed to my self, that his Philip did so far overshoot him in his own Bow, as those friends which at first were Sir Ahtlift's for this Secretaries sake, within a while became so fully owned, and ossest by Sir Philić, as now he held them at the second hand, by his Son-in-laws native courtesie.” 4. Sir Robert Naunton [b. 1563,-d. Mar. , 27, 1635], Master of the Court of Wards, in his posthumous work, entitled Fragmenta Regalia, or Observations on the late §. A lizabeth, /ker #zzyzes and ſavourites [First edition 1641, corrupt. Second edition 1642), gives us the following clear though brief account of Sidney. It is the best contemporary sketch of him that has come down to us. “He was sonne to Sir Henry Sydney, Lord Deputy of Ireland, and Pre- sident of V Pales, a person of great parts, and in no mean grace with the Queen : his mother was sister to my Lord of Leicester, from whence we may conjecture, how the Father stood up in the place of honour, and employment, so that his descent was apparently noble on both sides : For his education, it was such as travell, and the University could afford, or his Tutors infuse, for after an incredible proficiency in all the species of Learning, he left the Academicall liſe for that of the Court, whither he came by his Vncles invita- tion, famed aſore-hand by a noble report of his accomplishments, which to- gether with the state of his person, framed by a naturall propension to Arms, he soon attracted the good opinion of all men, and was so highly prized in the good opinion of the Queen, that she thought the Court § without him : And whereas (through the fame of his deserts) he was in the election for the Kingdome of Pole, she refused to further his advancement, not out of emulation, but out of fear to lose the jewell of her times: He married the daughter and sole heir of Sir Francis Walsingham, then Secretary of State, a Lady destinated to the Bed of honour, who (aſter his deplorable death at Zutphen in the Netherlands, where he vvas Governour of Plushing, at the time of his Vncles being there) vvas married to my Lord of Essex, and since his death, to my Lord of Saint Albons, all persons of the svvord, and other vvise of great honour and vertue. They have a very quaint and factious figment of him, That Mars and Mercury fell at variance v.vhose servant he should be; And there is an EAi- gram/zist that saith, That Art and Nature had spent their excellencies in his fashioning, and fearing that they should not end what they begun, they bestowed him on Fortune, and Nature stood musing, and amazed to behold her own work. But these are the petulancies of Poets. Certain it is, He was a noble and matchlesse Gentleman, and it may be justly said without hyperbolyes of fiction, as it was of Cato Vticensis, that he seemed to be born to that onely which he went about. Versatilis &ngezziz, as Plutarch hath it, but to speak more of him, were to make him lesse.” pp. 18–19. Ed. 1642. At p. 17. of the same work, he gives us an insight of Elizabeth's ideas on Sidney's death. “I can here adde a true, and no impertinent Story, and that of the last Mountio), who having twice or thrice stolſe]n away into Brittain[y] (where under Sir John Worris he had then a Company) without the Queen's leave. and privity; she sent a Messenger unto him, with a strict charge to the Generall to see him sent home : when he came into the Queens presence, she fell into a kinde of reviling, demanding how he durst go over without her leave; Serve me so (quoth she) once more, and I will lay you fast enough for running; You will never leave it untill you are knockt on the head, as that inconsiderate fellow Sidney was ; You shall go when I send you, in the mean time see that you lodge in the Court (which was then at VVhite-Hall) , wher you may follow your Book, read and discourse of the Wars,” AN APOLOGIE FOR POETRIE. | AAV7 RO/DUCT/ON. ºrsº HE reference, at page 62, to Spenſer's § Shepherd's Calendar as printed ; proves inconteſtably, that Sidney wrote his Apolo- gie ſubſequent to the 5th December, 1579, the date of the licenſing upon entry at tationer's Hall, of Spenſer's work; the firſt edition of which bears the date of 1579, the ſecond 1581, and he third 1586. The earlieſt date aſſignable to the preſent reprint is therefore 1580. Some time ſhould, however, be allowed for the Shepherd's Calendar to attain to its acknowledged reputation. The date uſually given for he compoſition of the Apologie for Poetrie, viz., 1581, may therefore be taken as approximately correót. For the motive to its production is known. It is a arefully prepared anſwer to portions of two works ledicated to Sidney, by another poet, Stephen Goſſon; ho had but recently forſaken the Stage for the Pulpit. Theſe works were 7%e Schoole of Abuſe, which appeared about Auguſt 1579, and An Apologie of the Schoole of Abuſe, which was publiſhed in the following November. Edmund Spenſer, writing from Leiceſter Houſe, on the 16th Oétober of the ſame year, to his friend Gabriel Harvey at Cambridge, incidentally gives us Sidney's opinion of Goſſon's firſt work. "ºnewe'fooles I heare of none, but only of one, that writing a certaine Booke, called The Schoole of Abuſe, and dedicating it to Maiſter Sidney, was for hys labor ſcorned : if at leaſte it be in the goodneſſe 8 Introduction. | of that nature to ſcorne. Suche follie is it, not to regarde aforehande the inclination and qualitie of him, to whom we dedicate oure Bookes.”* The lateſt date that can poſſibly be aſſigned to this work, is 16th November, 1585, when Sir P. Sidney left England for the laſt time. The probability how- ever is, that the vindication followed ſoon upon the attack. - - | It were an eaſy taſk, to trace in detail the line of aſſault and defence; but for this we have here no ſpace. Both works being now within eaſy reach of all, ſuch a compariſon may be made by any. It will be better to riſe from the temporal controverſy to the general principles diſcuſſed in the preſent work: merely noting that the ultimate point at iſſue betwee Sidney and Goſſon, ſeems to have been, whether un cleanneſs, falſity, and effeminacy were ſeparable ol inſeparable from poetry. - The Apologie is four times the length of thoſe por- tions of Goſſon's tracts which dealt with the abuſes of Poetry. For Sidney took advantage of the occa fion, “with quiet judgment looking a little deeper int it, to eſtabliſh, to his own ſatisfaction at leaſt, the reaſon for the exiſtence at all of Poetry, and the demonſtra tions of its ſuperlative excellence. Some of theſe appl leſs forcibly now than in his own time, through the general ſpread of the power of reading among th people; but there is much expoſition of that which will remain for all time. A book of criticiſm on poetry is itſelf but a text- book of further endleſs critical difcuſſion. Anything like a conſideration here of the subječt-matter of the Apologie is not poſſible to us: but it may be well to notice Sidney's uſe of the word Poet and its modern acceptation. * Three Aroßer and wittie, fami- ser] and G. H. p. 54. London ſent. diſar Letters; by IMMERITO [Spen- Stat. Hall, 30 June] 1580. Introdućtion. 9 Sidney would have called Bunyan's Pilgrim’s ¥ogreſs, Fénelon's Telemachus, and Defoe's Robinſon Cruſoe, poems. He deſignates Xenophon's Cyro- adia “an abſolute Heroic poem.” Accepting the word Poet in its original and univerſal ſenſe of maker; he ſays “There haue beene many moſt excellent Poets, that neuer verſified.” “One may bee a Poet without erfing, and a verſifier without Poetry;”f ‘Verſe being but an ornament and no cauſe to Poetry:” and gives this criterion, ‘It is that fayning notable images of vertues, vices, or what els, with that delightfull teach. ing which muſt be the right deſcribing note to know a Poet by.’ So that in the Apologie, Sidney is really defending the whole art and craft of Feigning. The ſcience of definitions progreſſed after Sidney's death ; and the Idea of Poet became limited to that of Imaginator in verſe. Ben Jonſon, in a poſthumous work—printed ſixty years later than the compoſition of the Apologie—entitled Timber: or Diſcoveries, Made zºon Men and Maſter: as they have ſºozº'd out of his daily Äeadings; or had their refluxe to his peculiar Motion of the Times, propoſes and anſwers three queſtions: and in ſo doing, eſtabliſhes and expreſſes “he modern limitation of the Idea. What 2s (g Poef & “A Poet is that, which by the Greeks is call’d kar’ &ox) v, & IIowntºc, a Maker, or a fainer: His Art, an Art of imitation, or faining ; expreſſing the life of man in fit meaſure, numbers, and harmony, according to Ariſtotle: From the word Totáty, which ſignifies to make or fayne. Hence, hee is call'd a Poet, not hee which writeth in meaſure only; but that fayneth and formeth a fable, and writes things like the Truth. For, the Fable and Fićtion is (as it were) the forme and Soule of any Poeticall worke, or A oeme. * p. 28 t p. 49. + p. 29. IO Introdućion. What meane you by a Poeme 2 A Poeme is not alone any worke, or compoſition of the Poets in many or few verſes; but even one alone verſe ſometimes makes a perfeót Poeme. As, when Aeneas hangs up, and conſecrates the Armes of Abas, with this Inſcription ; Aeneas hac de ZOamais vićloribus arma.* And calls it a Poeme or Carmen. Such are thoſe in Martial/. Omnia, Caſſor, emis: ſic fief, ut omnia Zendas. And Pauper videri Cinna vult, et eſ: pauper.f So were Horace his Odes call’d, Carmina ; his Zirick, Songs. And Zucrețius deſignes a whole booke, in his ſixt: Quod in primo guaºque carmine claret. And anciently, all the Oracles were call'd, Carmina ; or, what ever Sentence was expreſs'd, were it much, or little, it was call’d, an Epick, ZXramatick, Zirike, F/egiake, or Æſigrammatike Poeme. Aut, how differs a Poeme from what wee call Poesy % A Poeme, as I have told you is the worke of the Poet; the end, and fruit of his labour, and ſtudye. Poeſy is his ſkill, or Crafte of making; the very Fiction it ſelfe, the reaſon, or forme of the worke. And theſe three voices differ, as the thing done, the doing, and the doer; the thing ſain'd, the faining, and the fainer: ſo the Poeme, the Poesy, and the Poet.”: It is to be deſired that that word Feigner were re- leaſed from its preſent degradation; and that ennobled, it might become the modern equivalent to Sidney's uſe of the word Poet —a generic term embracing Poets, Allegoriſts, Fabuliſts, Romanciſts, Noveliſts; all who “imitate to teach and delight, and to imitate, borrow nothing of what is, hath been, or ſhall be : but range onely rayned with learned diſcretion, into the diuine confideration of what may be, and ſhould be.”" * Virgilius Aeneid, lib. 3. # Workes, ii. 125, 126. Ed. 1641. f Lib. 8, Epig. 19. § p. 28. : Introdućion. I I Sidney's want of appreciation either of the difficulty or excellence of great Proſe—for he ſeems to have thought ‘the weighing of each word in just propor- tion, according to the dignity of the ſubječt' peculiar to verse; and the diſſatisfaction of himſelf and Goſſon in Engliſh poetry; muſt be conſidered in connection with the dates of their reſpective compoſitions. They were both ſtanding on the very threſhold of our jºie; national literature. The men were then alive, who ſhould, within a generation—within the ſpan of Goſſon's life, for Sidney was prematurely cut off— do more to fix our language and to immortalize our literature, than had been or has fince been done. The golden age of Engliſh ſong was juſt beginning. hakeſpeare and Spenſer, the founders of two diſtinét ſphools of poetry ; Ben Jonſon, Fairefax, and a hoſt f minor dramatiſts, ſonneteers, tranſlators, and the like ; endowed England with noble Verſe. Hooker, nolles, Bacon, Raleigh, the Tranſlators of the author- ižed Engliſh verſion of the Scriptures, and many others f leſſer degree, gave us a not leſs worthy Proſe. he intelle&tual life of that generation is a prodigy in . hiſtory. What other Chriſtian country has pro- duced three contemporaries, such as Shakeſpeare, penſer, and Bacon P. It was an age not only of diſcovery all the world round ; but of high attainment ; new truths both in fact and opinion: not only of he eſtabliſhment of new proceſſes of arriving at Truth ; but alſo of the invention of new forms for its xpreſſion. All that is romantic, chivalrous, freſh, 'bluſters and concentrates round the laſt of the Tudors. With the incoming of the Stuarts, with the paſſing way of that generation, Engliſh Hiſtory begins to ecome flat and ſtale, ſoon to paſs into the ſtorm of he Civil Wars, in the midſt of which, this outburſt of the true old chivalry finally dies out. But from Goſſon and Sidney all this was hidden. They could only look back over the drearineſs of Engliſh Pºetry to Chaucer and Gower: and there was nothing ſhow, that the future might not be even as the paſt. I 2 Introduction. Accepting their works as the current criticiſm of the day; we may obtain a meaſure of the originality of theſe after-writers. In nothing is this more con- ſpicuous, than in the doćtrine of the Unities of a&tion, time and place, in dramatic compoſition; ſet forth by Ariſtotle, and reaſſerted moſt ſtrongly, at page 63 o' the preſent work. This doćtrine the subſequent Engliſh dramatiſts refuſed to obey as a compulſory law; for recogniſing unity of a&tion as the moſt obli gatory, they neglected or uſed the other two, at their will and pleaſure. One parting teſtimony. The Apologie bears * dant evidence to the ethereal refinement of Sidney’; nature, and to his ecſtatic delight in Poeſy; in th epithets and epithetic phraſes he gives ‘to the peer leſſe Poet.’ He but deſcribes himſelf, in deſcribin David, as ‘a passionate louer, of that vnſpeakable and euerlaſting beautie to be ſeene by the eyes of the minde onely cleered by fayth.” Adopting his own definition of Poeſy, may we not, in ſome degree at leaſt, apply to him, his own deſcription of “our Poet the Monarch.” “He dooth not only ſhow the way, but giueth i. ſweete a proſpect into the way, as will intice any mal to enter into it. , Nay, he dooth as if your iourney ſhould lye through a fayre Vineyard, at the firſt giué you a cluſter of Grapes: that full of that taſte, you may long to paſſe further. He beginneth not with obſcure definitions, which muſt blur the margent with inter pretations, and load the memory with doubtfulneſſe but hee commeth to you with words sent in delight. full proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for the well inchaunting skill of Muſicke; and with a tale forſooth he commeth vnto you : with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner. And pretending no more, doth in- tende the winning of the mind from wickedneſſe t vertue.”f * p. 24. f p. 40. BIBLIOGRAPHY. A N A P O L O GI E F O R P O E T R I E. * Editions not ſeen. (a) Essues in tije glutjor's life time. None. (b) Issues since tijº &utflot's Utatſ). I. As a ſeparate publication. 1... I 595. London. I vol. 4to. 20, 1752. Glaſgow. I vol. 8vo. 22. 1810. London. I vol. 4to. 25, 1 April 1868. London. I vol. 8vo. II. 2, 1598. London. I vol. fol. 3 * 1599. Edinburgh. I vol. fol. 4 1605. London. I vol. fol. |6. 1613. London. I vol. fol. 6, 1621. Dublin. I vol. fol. 7, * 1623 London. [1621 ?] I vol. fol 8, * 1622. London. I vol. fol. Falitio princeſs : ſee title on page 15. “The Defence of Poeſy' by Sir Philip Sidney, Knt. “The Defence of Poeſy,' the author Sir Philip Sidney, Knight. [Ed. by Lord THURLOW, ‘who, after giving a few copies to his friends, ſuppreſſed the remainder’ M.S. note in copy in Britº/, Muſeum 79. f. 22.] Angliſh Reprints : ſee title at page I. With offer zerozºs. The Covnteſſe of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight. Now the third time publiſhed, with fundry new additions of the ſame Au- thor. Imprinted for William Pon- ſombie. “The Defence of Poeſie” oc- cupies pp 491–518. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the third time publiſhed. &c. Publiſhed by. Robert. Walde-graue. Zownd. p. 2395. The ſame title as No. 2, Now the fourth time pvbliſhed &c. Imprinted for MATTHEvv. LOVVNES. ‘The De- fence of Poeſy' occupies pp 491–518. The ſame title as No. 2 Now the fourth time publiſhed &c. Imprinted for H. Z. for Simon Waterſon. ‘The Defence of Poeſie” occupies pp491-518. The ſame title as No. 2 Now the fift time publiſhed &c. Printed by the Societie of STATIONERS. ‘The De- fence of Poeſie” occupies pp 503—530. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the fifth time publiſhed. Lowndes. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the /xt time publiſhed Imprinted by H. L. for S. Waterſon. Lowndes. T4 f AE/B/./OGRAAEATV. 9, * 1627. London. 10, ll. 12. 13. 14. 16. 17. 18. 19, 21, 23, 24. I vol. fol. * 1629. London. I vol. fol. 1633. London. I vol. fol. * 1638. London. I vol. fol. * 1655. London. I vol. * 1662. London. I vol. fol. , * 1674. London. I vol. fol. I674. London. I vol. fol. * 1683. — fol. 1724–5. London. 3 vols. 8vo. * 1739. Dublin. 3 vols. I2mo, 1787. London. 1 vol. 8vo. 1829. Oxford. I vol. 8vo. * 1860, Boston, U.S. I vol. 8vo. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the ſixt time publiſhed. Imprinted by W. S. for S. Waterſon Æowndes. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the Jeventh time publiſhed. Printed for H. L. and R. V. Zozundes. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the eighth time publiſhed. Printed for SIMON WATERSON and R. YoUNG. ‘The Defence of Poeſie” occupies pp 540–566. The ſame title as No. 2. Now the ninth time publiſhed Lowndes. The ſame title as No. 2. Zenth edition Printed for DU GARD. Iowndes. The ſame title as No. 2, AE/ezenth edition. Zozundes. The ſame title as No. 2. edition. LOWNDES. The Counteſs of Pembroke's Arcadia written by Sir Philip Sidney, Knight. The 7%irteenth Edition. With his Life and Death; a brief Table of the prin- cipal Heads, and ſome other new Addi- tions. Printed for George Calvert. “The Defence of Poeſie” occupies pp. 540–566. Watts quotes an edition of the Ar- cadia, &c., of this year. Zowndes. The works of the Honourable Sir Philip Sidney; Kt. The Fourteenth Adition. ‘The Defense of Poeſy' occu- pies iii. I—52 : the pagination recom- mencing, in the middle of this volume, with it. The Works, in Proſe and Verſe, Lowndes. f Sir Philip Sydney's ‘Defence of Poetry’; and ‘Obſervations on Poetry and Eloquence’ from the ‘Diſcoveries” of Ben Jonſon [Ed. by Dr Josepit WARTON.] The miſcellaneous works of sit Philip Sidney, Knt. Ed. by WILLIAM GRAYs of Magdalen College, and the Inner Temple. ‘The Defence of Poeſy' occupies pp 1–66. \ A reprint of No. 23. Lowndes. 7%0elfth AM A POLOG | E for Poetrie. Written by the right noble, vertu- ous, and learned Sir Phillip Sidney, Anight. Odi profanum vulgus, et arceo AT LONDON, Printed for Henry Olney, and are to be ſold at his ſhop in Paules Church-yard, at the ſigne of the George, neere to Cheap-gate. Azzºto. I595. I6 To the A’eader. HE ſtormie Winter (deere Chyldren of the Muſes, which hath ſo long held backe the glorious Sun- ſhine of diuine Poeſie, is heere by the ſacred pen-breathing words of diuine Sir Philip Sidney, not onely chaſed from our fame-inuiting Clyme, but vtterly for euer baniſht eternitie: then graciouſly regreet the perpetuall ſpring of euer-growing inuention, and like kinde Babes, either enabled by wit or power, help to ſupport me poore Midwife, whoſe daring aduenture, hath deliuered from Obliuions wombe, this euer-to-be- admired wits miracle. Thoſe great ones, who in them- ſelues haue interr'd this bleſſed innocent, wil with Aeſculapius condemne me as a detraćtor from their Deities: thoſe who Prophet-like haue but heard preſage of his coming, wil (if they wildoe wel) not onely defend, but praiſe mee, as the firſt publique bewrayer of Poeſies Meſsias. Thoſe who neither haue ſeene, thereby to interre, nor heard, by which they might be inflamed with defire to ſee, let them (of duty) plead to be my Champions, fith both theyr fight and hearing, by mine incurring blame is ſeaſoned. Excellent Poeſie, (ſocreated by this Apologie,) be thou my Defendreſſe ; and if any wound mee, let thy beautie (my ſoules Adamant) recure mee: if anie commend mine endeuored hardiment, to them commend thy moſt diuineſt fury as a winged incouragement; ſo ſhalt thou haue deuoted to thee, and to them obliged | Affenry Olney. 17 Foure Sonnets written by Henrie Com/able to Sir Phillip Sidneys ſoule. Iue pardon (bleſſed Soule) to my bold cryes If they (importund) interrupt thy ſong, Which nowe with ioyfull notes thou ſing'ſt, among The Angel-Quiriſters of heau'nly ſkyes: Giue pardon eake (ſweet Soule) to my ſlow cries, That ſince I ſaw thee now it is ſo long, And yet the teares that vnto thee belong, \ To thee as yet they did not ſacrifice: I did not know that thou wert dead before, I did not feele the griefe I did ſuſteine, “The greater ſtroke aſtoniſheth the more, “Aſtoniſhment takes from vs ſence of paine, I ſtood amaz'd when others teares begun, And now begin to weepe, when they haue doone. Weet Soule which now with heau'nly ſongs dooſt tel Thy deare Redeemers glory, and his prayſe, No meruaile though thy ſkilful Muſe, aſſayes The ſongs of other ſoules there to excell : For thou didſt learne to ſing diuinely well, Long time before thy fayre, and glittering rayes Encreas'd the light of heau'n, for euen thy layes Moſt heauenly were, when thou on earth didſt dwel: When thou didſt on the earth ſing Poet-wiſe, Angels in heau'n pray'd for thy company, | And now thou fing'ſt with Angels in the ſkies, Shall not all Poets praiſe thy memory? nd to thy name ſhall not their works giue faune When as their works be ſweetned by thy name? B I Q Ven as when great mens heires cannot agree : l_So eu'ry vertue now for part of thee doth ſue, Courage prooues by thy death thyhart to be his due, Floquence claimes thytongue, and ſo doth courteſy, Inuention knowledge ſues, Iudgment ſues memory, Each ſaith thy head is his, and what end ſhall enſue Of this ſtrife know I not, but this I know for true, That whoſoeuer gaines the ſute, the loſſe haue wee Wee, (I meane all the world) the loſſe to all pertaineth, Yea they which gaine doe looſe, and onely thy ſoule gaineth, For looſing of one life, two lities are gained then : Honor thy courage mou’d, courage thy death did glue, Death, courage, honor, makes thy ſoule to live, Thy ſoule to live in heau'n, thy name in tongues of men. Reat Alexander then did well declare G#. great was his vnited Kingdomes might, When eu'ry Captaine of his Army might After his death with mighty Kings compare : So now we ſee after thy death, how far Thou doſt in worth ſurpaſſe each other Knight, When we admire him as no mortall wight, In whom the leaſt of all thy vertues are: One did of Macedon the King become, Another ſat in the Egiptian throne, But onely Alexanders ſelfe had all : So curteous ſome, and ſome be liberall, Some witty, wiſe, valiaunt, and learned ſome, 3ut King of all the vertues thou alone. \ Aenry Conſtable. | An Apologie for Poetrie. *Hen the right vertuous Edward VVoſton, and I, were at the Emperors Court together, wee gaue our ſelues to learne horſemanſhip of Zohn Pietro ićašić Augliano ; one that with great com- mendation had the place of an Eſquire in his ſtable. And hee, according to he fertilnes of the Italian wit, did not onely afoord vs the demonſtration of his practiſe, but ſought to enrich our mindes with the contemplations therein, which hee thought moſt precious. But with none I remember mine eares were at any time more loden, then when (either angred with ſlowe painment, or mooued with our learner-like admiration,) he exerciſed his ſpeech in the prayſe of his facultie. Hee ſayd, Souldiours were the nobleſt eſtate of mankinde, and horſemen, the nobleſl of Souldiours. Hee ſayde, they were the Maiſters of warre, and ornaments of peace : ſpeedy goers, and ſtrong abiders, triumphers both in Camps and Courts. Nay, to ſo vnbeleeued a poynt hee proceeded, as that no earthly thing bred ſuch wonder to a Prince, as to be a good horſeman. Skill of gouernment, was but a Pedanteria in compariſon: then would hee adde cer- taine prayſes, by telling what a peerleſſe beaſt a horſe was. The onely ſeruiceable Courtier with- out flattery, the beaſt of moſt beutie, faithfulnes, courage, and ſuch more, that if I had not beene a peece of a Logician before I came to him, I think he would haue perſwaded mee to haue wiſhed my ſelfe a horſe. But thus much at leaſt with his no fewe words hee draue into me, that ſelfe-loue is better then any guilding to make that ſeeme gorgious, wherein our elues are parties. VVherein, if Pugliano his ſtrong 2O AAW A POZOGAE affection and weake arguments will not ſatisfie you, I wil giue you a neerer example of my ſelfe, who (1 knowe not by what miſchance) in theſe my not old yeres and ideleſt times, hauing ſlipt into the title of a Poet, am proudked to ſay ſomthing vnto you in the defence of that my vinelected vocation, which if I handle with more good will then good reaſons, beare with me, fith the ſcholler is to be pardoned that foloweth the ſteppes of his Maiſter. And yet I muſt ſay, that as I haue iuſt cauſe to make a pittiful defence of poore Poetry, which from almoſt the higheſt eſti- mation of learning, is fallen to be the laughingſtocke of children. So haue I need to bring ſome more auaileable proofes: fith the former is by no man barred of his deſerued credite, the filly latter hath had euen the names of Philoſophers vſed to the defacing of it, with great danger of ciuill war among the Muſes. And firſt, truly to al them that profeſsing learning inueigh againſt Poetry, may iuſtly be ob- ieóted, that they goe very neer to vngratfulnes, to ſeek to deface that, which in the nobleſt nations and languages that are knowne, hath been the firſt light- giuer to ignorance, and firſt Nurſe, whoſe milk by little and little enabled them to feed afterwards of tougher knowledges: and will they now play the Hedg- hog, that being receiued into the den, draue out his hoſt? or rather the Vipers, that with theyr birth kill their Parents? Let learned Greece in any of her manifold Sciences, be able to ſhew me one booke, before Muſæus, Homer, and Heſiodus, all three nothing els but Poets. Nay, let any hiſtorie be brought, that can ſay any VVriters were there before them, if they were not men of the ſame skil, as Orpheus, Zinus, and ſome other are named : who hauing beene the firſt of that Country, that made pens deliuerers of their knowledge to their poſlerity, may iuſtly chal- lenge to bee called their Fathers in learning: for not only in time they had this priority (although in it ſelf antiquity be venerable) but went before them, as APOR POETRYE. 2 I cauſes to drawe with their charming ſweetnes, the wild wntamed wits to an admiration of knowledge. So as Amphion was ſayde to moue ſtones with his Poetrie, to build Thebes. And Org/leus to be liſtened to by beaſtes, indeed, ſtony and beaſtly people. So among the Romans were Zillius, Andronicus, and Zunius. So in the Italian language, the firſt that made it aſpire to be a Treaſure-houſe of Science, were the Poets ZXante, Boccace, and Petrarch. So in our Engliſh were Gower and Chawcer. After whom, encouraged and delighted with theyr excellent fore-going, others haue followed, to beautifie our mother tongue, as wel in the ſame kinde as in other Arts. This did ſo notably ſhewe it ſelfe, that the Phyloſophers of Greece, durſt not a long time appeare to the worlde but vnder the masks of Poets. So Zhales, Empedocles, and Parmenides, ſange their naturall Phyloſophie in verſes: ſo did Pythagoras and A hociſides their morral counſells : ſo did 777teus in war matters, and Solon in matters of policie: or rather, they beeing Poets, dyd exerciſe their delightful vaine in thoſe points of higheſt knowledge, which before them lay hid to the world. For that wife Soloſt was directly a Poet, it is manifeſt, hauing written in verſe, the notable fable of the Atlantick Iland, which was continued by Plato. And truely, euen Plato, whoſoeuer well conſider- eth, ſhall find, that in the body of his work, though the inſide and ſtrength were Philoſophy, the ſkinne as it were and beautie, depended moſt of Poetrie: for all ſtandeth vpon Dialogues, wherein he faineth many honeſt Burgeſſes of Athens to ſpeake of ſuch matters, that if they had been ſette on the racke, they would neuer haue confeſſed them. Beſides, his poetical de- ſcribing the circumſtances of their meetings, as the well ordering of a banquet, the delicacie of a walke, with enterlacing meere tales, as Giges Ring, and thers, which who knoweth not to be flowers of Poe- rie, did neuer walke into AA/olos Garden. 22 AAW APOYOGAE And euen Hiſtoriographers, (although theyr lippes ſounde of things doone, and veritie be written in theyr fore-heads,) haue been glad to borrow both faſhion, and perchance weight of Poets. So Herodotus enti- tuled his Hiſtorie, by the name of the nine Muſes: and both he and all the reſt that followed him, either ſtole or vſurped of Poetrie, their paſſionate deſcribing of paſsions, the many particularities of battailes, which no man could affirme: or if that be denied me, long Orations put in the mouthes of great Kings and Cap taines, which it is certaine they neuer pronounced. So that truely, neyther Phyloſopher nor Hiſtoriogra- pher, coulde at the firſt haue entred into the gates of populer iudgements, if they had not taken a great paſ- port of Poetry, which in all Nations at this day wher learning floriſheth not, is plaine to be ſeene : in all which they haue ſome feeling of Poetry. In Turky, beſides their lawe-giuing Diuines, they haue no other VVriters but Poets. In our neighbour Countrey Ire- land, where truelie learning goeth very bare, yet are theyr Poets held in a deuoute reuerence. Euen among the moſt barbarous and ſimple Indians where no writing is, yet haue they their Poets, who make and ſing ſongs which they call Areyſos, both of theyr Aunceſtors deedes, and praiſes of theyr Gods. A ſuffi- cient probabilitie, that if euer learning come among them, it muſt be by hauing theyr hard dull wits ſoft- ned and ſharpened with the ſweete delights of Poe- trie. For vntill they find a pleaſure in the exerciſes of the minde, great promiſes of much knowledge, will little perſwade them, that knowe not the fruites of knowledge. In VVales, the true remnant of the auncient Brittons, as there are good authorities to ſhewe the long time they had Poets, which they called Bardes : ſo thorough all the conqueſts of Romaines, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, ſome of whom did ſeeke to ruine all memory of learning from among them, yet doo their Poets euen to this day, laſt; ſo as it is not more notable in ſoone beginning then in long continu- FOR AOE 7TRZZ. 23 ing. But ſince the Authors of moſt of our Sciences were the Romans, and before them the Greekes, let vs a little ſtand vppon their authorities, but euen ſo farre as to ſee, what names they haue giuen vnto this now ſcorned ſkill. Among the Romans a Poet was called Vates, which is as much as a Diuiner, Fore-ſeer, or Prophet, as by his conioyned wordes Vaticinium and Vaticinari, is manifeſt: ſo heauenly a title did that excellent people beſtow vpon this hart-rauiſhing knowledge. And ſo farre were they carried into the admiration thereof, that they thought in the chaunceable hitting vppon any ſuch verſes, great fore-tokens of their following fortunes were placed. VWhereupon grew the worde of Sortes Virgilianae, when by ſuddaine opening Virgil's booke, they lighted vpon any verſe of hys making, whereof the hiſtories of the Emperors liues are full : as of Albinus the Gouernour of our Iland, who in his childe- hoode mette with this verſe Arma amens capio nec ſaf rationis in armis. And in his age performed it, which although it were a very vaine, and godles ſuperſtition, as alſo it was to think that ſpirits were commaunded by ſuch verſes, whereupon this word charmes, deriued of Carmina commeth, ſo yet ſerueth it to ſhew the great reuerence thoſe wits were helde in. And altogether not with- out ground, ſince both the Oracles of Delphos and Sibillas prophecies, where wholy deliuered in verſes. For that ſame exquiſite obſeruing of number and meaſure in words, and that high flying liberty of con- ceit proper to the Poet, did ſeeme to haue ſome dyuine force in it. And may not I preſume a little further, to ſhew the reaſonablenes of this worde Wafes P And ſay that the holy ZXawid's Pſalmes are a diuine Poem P If I doo, I ſhall not do it without the teſtimonie of great learned men, both auncient and moderne; but euen the name Pſalmes will ſpeake for mee, which being interpreted, 24 A M APOLOGIAE is nothing but ſonges Then that it is fully written in meeter, as all learned Hebricians agree, although the rules be not yet fully found. Laſtly and principally, his handeling his prophecy, which is meerely poetical. For what els is the awaking his muſicall inſtruments? The often and free changing of perſons P His notable Aroſopopeias, when he maketh you as it were, ſee God comming in his Maieſtie. His telling of the Beaſtes ioyfulnes, and hills leaping, but a heauenlie poeſie: wherein almoſt hee ſheweth himſelfe a paſsionate louer, of that wnſpeakable and euerlaſting beautie to be ſeene by the eyes of the minde, onely cleered by fayth. But truely nowe hauing named him, I feare mee I ſeeme to prophane that holy name, applying it to Poetrie, which is among vs throwne downe to ſo ridiculous an eſtimation: but they that with quiet iudgements will looke a little deeper into it, ſhall finde the end and working of it ſuch, as beeing rightly ap- plyed, deſerueth not to bee ſcourged out of the Church of God. But now, let vs ſee how the Greekes named it, and howe they deemed of it. The Greekes called him a Poet, which name, hath as the moſt excellent, gone thorough other Languages. It commeth of this word Požein, which is, to make : wherein I know not, whether by lucke or wiſedome, wee Engliſhmen haue mette with the Greekes, in calling him a maker: which name, how high and incomparable a title it is, I had rather were knowne by marking the ſcope of other Sciences, then by my partiall allegation. There is no Arte deliuered to mankinde, that hath not the workes of Nature for his principall object, without which they could not conſiſt, and on which they ſo depend, as they become Aćtors and Players as it were, of what Nature will haue set foorth. So doth the Aſtronomer looke vpon the ſtarres, and by that he feeth, ſetteth downe what order Nature hath taken therein. So doe the Geometrician, and Arithmetician, in their diuerſe ſorts of quantities. So doth the FOR AOA. TRIE. 25 Muſitian in times, tel you which by nature agree, which not. The naturall Philoſopher thereon hath his name, and the Morrall Philoſopher ſtandeth vpon the naturall vertues, vices, and paſsions of man ; and fol- lowe Nature (ſaith hee) therein, and thou ſhalt not erre. The Lawyer ſayth what men haue determined. The Hiſtorian what men haue done. The Grammarian ſpeaketh onely of the rules of ſpeech, and the Retho- rician, and Logitian, conſidering what in Nature will ſooneſt proue and perſwade, thereon giue artificial rules, which ſtill are compaſſed within the circle of a ques- tion, according to the propoſed matter. The Phiſition waigheth the nature of a mans bodie, and the nature of things helpeful, or hurtefull vnto it. And the Meta- phiſick, though it be in the ſeconde and abſtraćt no- tions, and therefore be counted ſupernaturall : yet doth hee indeede builde vpon the depth of Nature: onely the Poet, diſdayning to be tied to any ſuch ſubječtion, lifted vp with the vigor of his owne inuention, dooth growe in effect, another nature, in making things either better then Nature bringeth forth, or quite a newe formes ſuch as neuer were in Nature, as the Heroes, APemigods, Cyclops, Chimeras, Furies, and ſuch like : ſo as hee goeth hand in hand with Nature, not in- cloſed within the narrow warrant of her guiſts, but freely ranging onely within the Zodiack of his owne wit. Nature neuer ſet forth the earth in ſo rich tapiſtry, as diuers Poets haue done, neither with pleſant riuers, fruitful trees, sweet smelling flowers : nor whatsoeuer els may make the too much loued earth more louely. Her world is braſen, the Poets only deliuer a golden: but let thoſe things alone and goe to man, for whom as the other things are, ſo it ſeemeth in him her vtter- moſt cunning is imployed, and knowe whether ſhee haue brought foorth ſo true a louer as 7%eagines, so conſtant a friende as Pilades, ſo valiant a man as Orlando, ſo right a Prince as Xenop/ions Cyrus: ſo excellent a man euery way, as Virgi's Acneas; neither et this be iestingly conceiued, becauſe the works of 26 AMW APOLOG/AE the one be eſſentiall: the other, in imitation or fiction, for any vinderſtanding knoweth the ſkil of the Artificer: ſtandeth in that Zalea or fore-conceite of the work, and not in the work it selfe. And that the Poet hath that Zdea, is manifeſt, by deliuering them forth in ſuch excellencie as hee hath imagined them. VVhich de- liuering forth also, is not wholie imaginatiue, as we are wont to ſay by them that build Caſtles in the ayre : but so farre ſubſtantially it worketh, not onely to make a Cyrus, which had been but a particuler excel- lencie, as Nature might haue done, but to beſtow a Cyrus vpon the worlde, to make many Cyrus's, if they wil learne aright, why, and how that Maker made him. Neyther let it be deemed too ſawcie a compariſon to ballance the higheſt poynt of mans wit with the effi- cacie of Nature : but rather glue right honor to the heauenly Maker of that maker: who hauing made man to his owne likenes, ſet him beyond and ouer all the workes of that ſecond nature, which in nothing hee ſheweth ſo much as in Poetrie: when with the force of a diuine breath, he bringeth things forth far sur- paſſing her dooings, with no ſmall argument to the incredulous of that firſt accurſed fall of Adam : ſith our erected wit, maketh vs know what perfection is, and yet our infected will, keepeth vs from reaching wnto it. But theſe arguments wil by fewe be vnder- stood, and by fewer granted. Thus much (I hope) will be giuen me, that the Greekes with some probabilitie of reaſon, gaue him the name aboue all names of learn- ing. Now let vs goe to a more ordinary opening of him, that the trueth may be more palpable : and ſo I hope, though we get not ſo vnmatched a praiſe as the Etimologie of his names wil grant, yet his very des- cription, which no man will denie, ſhall not iuſtly be barred from a principall commendation. Poeſie therefore is an arte of imitation, for so Aris- foſſe termeth it in his word Mimeſis, that is to say, a repreſenting, counterfetting, or figuring foorth : to FOA' POETRA, 27 ſpeake metaphorically, a ſpeaking picture: with this end, to teach and delight; of this haue beene three ſeuerall kindes. The chiefe both in antiquitie and excellencie, were they that did imitate the inconceiuable excellencies of GOD. Such were, ZXawid in his Pſalmes, Salomon in his song of Songs, in his Eccle- siaſtes, and Prouerbs: Moſes and ZXabora in theyr Hymnes, and the writer of Job ; which beſide other. the learned Æ/lanue// ZYemilius and Franciſcus Junius, doe entitle the poeticall part of the Scripture. Againſt these none will ſpeake that hath the holie Ghoſt in due holy reuerence. In this kinde, though in a full wrong diuinitie, were Orpheus, Amphion, Homer in his hymes, and many other, both Greekes and Romaines : and this Poeſie muſt be vſed, by whoſoeuer will follow S. James his counſell, in ſinging Pſalmes when they are merry: and I knowe is vſed with the fruite of comfort by ſome, when in ſorrowfull pangs of their death-bringing finnes, they find the conſolation of the neuer-leauing goodneſſe. The ſecond kinde, is of them that deale with matters Philoſophicall; eyther morrall, as Zirtcus, A hociſides and Cato, or naturall, as Zucrețius and Viºgi/s Georgicks: or Aſtronomicall, as Maniſius, and Aontanus : or hiſtorical, as Zucan : which who miſlike, the faulte is in their iudgements quite out of taſte, and not in the ſweet foode of ſweetly vttered know- ledge. But becauſe thys ſecond ſorte is wrapped within the folde of the propoſed ſubject, and takes not the courſe of his owne inuention, whether they properly be Poets or no, let Gramarians diſpute : and goe to the thyrd, indeed right Poets, of whom chiefly this queſtion ariſeth ; betwixt whom, and theſe ſecond is ſuch a kinde of difference, as betwixt the meaner fort of Painters, (who counterfet onely ſuch faces as are ſette before them) and the more excel- lent: who hauing no law but wit, beſtow that in Cullours vpon you which is fitteſt for the eye to ſee: 28 AAW APOLOGYE as the conſtant, though lamenting looke of Zucrecia, when ſhe puniſhed in her ſelfe an others fault. VWherein he painteth not Zucrecia whom he neuer ſawe, but painteth the outwarde beauty of ſuch a vertue: for theſe third be they which moſt properly do imitate to teach and delight, and to imitate, borrow nothing of what is, hath been, or ſhall be: but range onely rayned with learned diſcretion, into the diuine conſideration of what may be, and ſhould be. Theſe ljee they, that as the firſt and moſt noble ſorte, may juſtly bee termed Vaſſes, ſo theſe are waited on in the excellenſtelſt languages and beſt vnderſtandings, with the fore deſcribed name of Poets: for theſe indeede doo meerely make to imitate : and imitate both to delight and teach ; and delight to moue men to take that good- mes in hande, which without delight they would flye as from a ſtranger. And teach, to make them know that goodnes whereunto they are mooued, which being the nobleſt ſcope to which euer any learning was directed, yet want there not idle tongues to barke at them. Theſe be ſubdiuided into ſundry more ſpeciall deno- minations. The moſt notable bee the AE/eroick, Zirack, Z}-agick, Comick, Satirick, Zambick, Z/gſack, Paſtoral/, and certaine others. Some of theſe being termed according to the matter they deale with, ſome by the ſorts of verſes they liked beſt to write in, for indeede the greateſt part of Poets have apparelled their poeticall inuentions in that numbrous kinde of writing which is ( alled verſe: indeed but apparelled, verſe being but an ornament and no cauſe to Poetry: ſith there haue beene many moſt excellent Poets, that neuer verſified, and now ſwarme many verſifiers that neede neuer aunſwere to the name of Poets. For Xeno//ion, who did imitate ſo excellently, as to giue vs ºffgiem iuſ'; ſm/erij, the portraiture of a iuſi. Empire vnder the name of Cyrus, (as Cicero ſayth of him) made therein an abſolute heroicall Poem. So did Heliodorus in his ſugred inuention of that picture of loue in Zheagines and Cariclea, and yel AOR A2OAZ 7"RZZ. 29 both theſe writ in Proſe : which I ſpeak to ſhew, that it is not riming and verſing that maketh a Poet, no more then a long gowne maketh an Aduocate; who though he pleaded in armor ſhould be an Aduocate and no Souldier. But it is that fayning notable images of vertues, vices, or what els, with that delightfull teaching which muſt be the right deſcribing note to know a Poet by ; although indeed the Senate of Poets hath choſen verſe as their fitteſt rayment, meaning, as in matter they paſſed all in all, ſo in maner to goe beyond them : not ſpeaking (table talke faſhion or like men in a dreame,) words as they chanceably fall from the mouth, but peyzing each ſillable of each worde by iuſt proportion according to the dignitie of the ſubiect. Nowe therefore it ſhall not bee amiſſe firſt to waigh this latter ſort of Poetrie by his works, and then by his partes; and if in neyther of theſe Anatomies hee be condemnable, I hope wee ſhall obtaine a more fauour- able ſentence. This purifing of wit, this enritching of memory, enabling of iudgment, and enlarging of conceyt, which commonly we call learning, vnder what name foeuer it com forth, or to what immediat end ſoeuer it be directed, the final end is, to lead and draw vs to as high a perfeótion, as our degenerate foules made worſe by theyr clayey lodgings, can be capable of. This according to the inclination of the man, bred many formed impreſsions, for ſome that thought this felicity principally to be gotten by know- ledge, and no knowledge to be ſo high and heauenly, as acquaintance with the ſtarres, gaue themſelues to Aſtronomie; others, perſwading themſelues to be Demi- gods if they knewe the cauſes of things, became naturall and ſupernaturall Philoſophers, ſome an admirable delight drew to Muſicke: and ſome, the certainty of demonſtration, to the Mathematickes, But all, one, and other, hauing this ſcope to knowe, and by know- ledge to lift vp the mind from the dungeon of the body, to the enioying his owne diuine eſſence. But 3O AAW APOZOGAE when by the ballance of experience it was found, that the Aſtronomer looking to the ſtarres might fall into a ditch, that the enquiring Philoſopher might be blinde in himſelfe, and the Mathematician might draw foorth a ſtraight line with a crooked hart: then loe, did proofe the ouer ruler of opinions, make manifeſt, that all theſe are but ſeruing Sciences, which as they haue each a priuate end in themſelues, ſo yet are they all directed to the higheſt end of the miſtres Knowledge, by the Greekes called Arkiteckfonike, which ſtands, (as I thinke) in the knowledge of a mans ſelfe, in the Ethicke and politick conſideration, with the end of well dooing and not of well knowing onely ; euen as the Sadlers next end is to make a good ſaddle ; but his farther end, to ſerue a nobler facultie, which is horſemanſhip, ſo the horſemans to souldiery, and the Souldier not onely to haue the ſkill, but to per- forme the practiſe of a Souldier : ſo that the ending end of all earthly learning, being vertuous action, thoſe ſkilles that moſt ſerue to bring forth that, haue a moſt iuſt title to bee Princes ouer all the reſt: wherein if wee can ſhewe the Poets noblenes, by set- ting him before his other Competitors, among whom as principall challengers ſtep forth the morrall Philo- ſophers, whom me thinketh, I ſee comming towards me with a ſullen grauity, as though they could not abide vice by day light, rudely clothed for to witnes outwardly their contempt of outward things, with bookes in their hands agaynſt glory, whereto they ſette theyr names, ſophiſtically ſpeaking againſt ſub- tility, and angry with any man in whom they ſee the foule fault of anger: theſe men caſting larges as they goe, of Definitions, Diuiſions, and Diſtinétions, with a ſcornefull interogatiue, doe ſoberly aske, whether it bee poſsible to finde any path, ſo ready to leade a man to vertue, as that which teacheth what vertue is ? and teacheth it not onely by deliuering forth his very being, his cauſes, and effects: but alſo, by making known his enemie vice, which muſt be de- AWOR AOA. Tſ’/E. 3 I ſtroyed, and his comberſome ſeruant Paſsion, which muſt be maiſtered, by ſhewing the generalities that contayneth it, and the ſpecialities that are deriued from it. Laſtly, by playne ſetting downe, how it extendeth it ſelfe out of the limits of a mans own little world, to the gouernment of families, and maintayning of publique ſocieties. The Hiſtorian, ſcarcely giueth leyſure to the Mo- raliſt, to ſay ſo much, but that he loden with old Mouſe-eaten records, authorifing himſelfe (for the moſt part) vpon other hiſtories, whoſe greateſt authorities, are built vpon the notable foundation of Heare-ſay, hauing much a-doe to accord differing VWriters, and to pick trueth out of partiality, better acquainted with a thouſande yeeres a goe, then with the preſent age : and yet better knowing how this world goeth, then how his owne wit runneth : curious for antiquities, and inquiſitiue of nouelties, a wonder to young folkes, and a tyrant in table talke, denieth in a great chafe, that any man for teaching of ver- tue, and vertuous actions, is comparable to him. I am Lux vita', Zemporum Magiſtra, Vita memoria, AWuncia wefuſatis. &c. The Phyloſopher (ſayth hee) teacheth a diſputa- tiue vertue, but I doe an actiue : his vertue is ex- cellent in the dangerleſſe Academie of Plato, but mine ſheweth foorth her honorable face, in the battailes of Marathon, Pharſalia, Aoitiers, and Agincourt. Hee teacheth vertue by certaine abſtraćt conſiderations, but I onely bid you follow the footing of them that haue gone before you. Olde-aged experience, goeth beyond the fine-witted Phyloſopher, but I giue the experience of many ages. Laſtly, if he make the Song-booke, I put the learners hande to the Lute: and if hee be the guide, I am the light. Then woulde hee alledge you innumerable ex- amples, conferring ſtorie by ſtorie, how much the wiſeſt Senatours and Princes, haue beene directed by the credite of hiſtory, as Brutus, Alphonſus of Aragon, and who not, if need bee P At length, the long lyne 32 AAW AA’OZOGAE of theyr diſputation maketh a poynt in thys, that the one giueth the precept, and the other the example. Nowe, whom ſhall wee finde (fith the queſtion ſtandeth for the higheſt forme in the Schoole of learn- ing) to bee Moderator? Trulie, as me ſeemeth, the Poet; and if not a Moderator, euen the man that ought to carrie the title from them both, and much more from all other ſeruing Sciences. Therefore compare we the Poet with the Hiſtorian, and with the Morrall Phyloſopher, and, if hee goe beyond them both, no other humaine ſkill can match him. For as for the Diuine, with all reuerence it is euer to be excepted, not only for hauing his ſcope as far beyonde any of theſe, as eternitie exceedeth a moment, but euen for paſsing each of theſe in themſelues. And for the Lawyer, though Zus bee the Daughter of Iuſtice, and Iuſtice the chiefe of Vertues, yet becauſe hee ſeeketh to make men good, rather Formi. dine pande, then Virtuțis amore, or to ſay righter, dooth not indeuour to make men good, but that their euill hurt not others: hauing no care ſo hee be a good Citti- zen ; how bad a man he be. Therefore, as our wick- edneſſe maketh him neceſsarie, and neceſsitie maketh hium honorable, ſo is hee not in the deepeſt trueth to ſtande in rancke with theſe ; who all indeuour to take naughtines away, and plant goodneſſe euen in the ſecreteſt cabinet of our ſoules. And theſe foure are all, that any way deale in that conſideration of mens manners, which beeing the ſupreme knowledge, they that beſt breed it, deſerue the beſt commendation. The Philoſopher therfore and the Hiſtorian, are they which would win the gole : the one by precept, the other by example. But both not hauing both, doe both halte. For the Philoſopher, ſetting downe with thorny argument the bare rule, is ſo hard of vtterance, and ſo miſtie to bee conceiued, that one that hath no other guide but him, ſhall wade in him till hee be olde, before he ſhall finde ſufficient cauſe to bee honeſt : for his knowledge ſtandeth ſo vpon the abſtraćt and generall, that happie is that man who FOR AROAZ TRZAE. 33 may vnderſtande him, and more happie, that can applye what hee dooth vnderſtand. On the other ſide, the Hiſtorian wanting the precept, is ſo tyed, not to what ſhouldebee, but to what is, to the particuler truth of things, and not to the general rea- ſon of things, that hys example draweth no neceſſary conſequence, and therefore a leſſe fruitfull doctrine. Nowe dooth the peereleſſe Poet performe both: for whatſoeuer the Philoſopher ſayth ſhoulde be doone, hee giueth a perfeót pićture of it in ſome one, by whom hee preſuppoſeth it was done. So as hee coup- leth the generall notion with the particuler example. A perfeót pićture I ſay, ſor hee yeeldeth to the powers of the minde, an image of that whereof the Philoſo- pher beſtoweth but a woordiſh deſcription : vvhich dooth neyther strike, pierce, nor poſſeſſe the fight of the ſoule, ſo much as that other dooth. For as in outward things, to a man that had neuer . ſeene an Elephant or a Rinoceros, who ſhould tell him moſt exquiſitely all theyr ſhapes, Cullour, bigneſſe, and perticular markes: or of a gorgeous Pallace, the Archite&ture, with declaring the full beauties, might well make the hearer able to repeate as it were by rote, all hee had heard, yet ſhould neuer ſatiſfie his in- ward conceits, with being witnes to it ſelfe of a true liuely knowledge: but the ſame man, as ſoone as hee might ſee thoſe beaſts well painted, or the houſe wel in moddel, ſhould ſtraightwaies grow without need of any deſcription, to a iudicial comprehending of them, ſo no doubt the Philoſopher with his learned definition, bee it of vertue, vices, matters of publick policie, or priuat gouernment, repleniſheth the memory with many infallible grounds of wiſdom : which notwithſtanding, lye darke before the imaginatiue and iudging powre, if they bee not illuminated or figured foorth by the ſpeaking pićture of Poeſie. Zullie taketh much paynes and many times not without poeticall helpes, to make vs knowe the force loue of our Countrey hath in vs. Let vs but heare C 34 AN APOZOGIAE old Anchiſes ſpeaking in the middeſt of Troyes flames, or ſee V/iffes in the fulnes of all Calipſo's delights, bewayle his abſence from barraine and beggerly Athaca. Anger the Stoicks say, was a short maddnes, let but Sophocles bring you Aiaz on a ſtage, killing and whipping Sheepe and Oxen, thinking them the Army of Greeks, with theyr Chiefetaines Agamemnon and Menelaus, and tell mee if you haue not a more familiar inſight into anger, then finding in the Schoole- men his Genus and difference. See whether wiſdome and temperance in Vliffes and Ziomedes, valure in Achilles, friendſhip in AVäſus, and Euria/us, euen to an ignoraunt man, Carry not an apparent ſhyning : and contrarily, the remorſe of conſcience in Oedipus, the ſoone repenting pride of Agamemnon, the ſelfe- deuouring crueltie in his Father Atreus, the violence of ambition in the two 7%eban brothers, the ſowre- ſweetnes of reuenge in Medaa, and to fall lower, the Terentian Gnato, and our Chaucers Pandar, ſo ex- preſt, that we nowe vſe their names to ſignifie their trades. And finally, all vertues, vices, and paſsions, so in their own naturall ſeates layd to the viewe, that wee ſeeme not to heare of them, but cleerely to ſee through them. But euen in the moſt excellent deter- mination of goodnes, what Philoſophers counſell can ſo redily direct a Prince, as the fayned Cyrus in Menophon? or a vertuous man in all fortunes, as Aeneas in Virgil/? or a whole Common-wealth, as the way of Sir Zhomas Moores Eutopia? I ſay the way, becauſe where Sir Thomas Moore erred, it was the fault of the man and not of the Poet, for that way of patterning a Common-wealth was moſt abſolute, though hee per- chaunce hath not ſo abſolutely perfourmed it: for the queſtion is, whether the fayned image of Poeſie, or the regular inſtrućtion of Philoſophy, hath the more force in teaching : wherein if the Philoſophers haue more rightly ſhewed themſelues Philoſophers, then the Poets haue obtained to the high top of their pro- feſſion, as in truth, AWOR AOA, 7 RAAE. 35 Mediocribus effe poetis, AVon Dij, non homines, non conceffere Columna. It is I ſay againe, not the fault of the Art, but that by fewe men that Arte can bee accompliſhed. Certainly, euen our Sauiour Chriſt could as wellhaue giuen, the morrall common places of vncharitablenes and humblenes, as the diuine narration of Diues and Alazarus : or of diſobedience and mercy, as that heauenly diſcourſe of the loſt Child and the gratious Fatler; but that hys through-ſearching wiſdom, knewe the eſtate of Diues burning in hell, and of Lazarus being in Abraham's boſome, would more conſtantly (as it were) inhabit both the memory and iudgment. Truly, for my ſelfe, mee ſeemes I ſee be- fore my eyes the loſt Childes diſdainefull prodigality, turned to enuie a Swines dinner: which by the learned Diuines, are thought not hiſtoricall ačts, but inſtructing Parables. Forconcluſion, Iſay the Philoſopher teacheth, but he teacheth obſcurely, ſo as the learned onely can vnderſtande him: that is to ſay, he teacheth them that are already taught, but the Poet is the foode for the tendereſt ſtomacks, the Poet is indeed the right Popular Philoſopher, whereof Eſof's tales giue good proofe: whoſe pretty Allegories, ſtealing vnder the formall tales of Beaſtes, make many, more beaſtly then Beaſts, begin to heare the ſound of vertue from theſe dumbe ſpeakers. But now may it be alledged, that if this imagining of matters be ſo fitte for the imagination, then muſt the Hiſtorian needs ſurpaſſe, who bringethyoſt images of true matters, ſuch as indeede were doome, afti not ſuch as fantaſtically or falſely may be ſuggeſted to haue been doone. Truely Ariſtotle himſelfe in his diſcourſe of Poeſie, plainely determineth this queſtion, ſaying, that Poetry is Philoſopholeron and Spoudaioteron, that is to ſay, it is more Philoſophicall, and more ſtudiouſly ſerious, then hiſtory. His reaſon is, becauſe Poeſie dealeth with Katholou, that is to ſay, with the vniuerſall conſideration; and the hiſtory with Kathe- 36 AMW APOLOGYE Áa/ſon, the perticuler; nowe ſayth he, the vniuerſall wayes what is fit to bee ſayd or done, eyther in likeli- hood or neceſsity, (which the Poeſie conſidereth in his impoſed names,) and the perticuler, onely mark's, whether Alcibiades did, or ſuffered, this or that. Thus farre Ariſtotle: which reaſon of his, (as all his) is moſt full of reaſon. For indeed, if the queſtion were whether it were better to haue a perticular ačte truly or falſly ſet down : there is no doubt which is to be choſen, no more then whether you had rather haue Veſpaſians pićture right as hee was, or at the Painters pleaſure nothing reſembling. But if the queſtion be for your owne vſe and learning, whether it be better to haue it ſet downe as it ſhould be, or as it was : then certainely is more doćtrinable the fained Cirus of Xenophon then the true Cyrus in Muſlime: and the fayned Aeneas in Virgil, then the right Aeneas in Dares Phrigius. As to a Lady that deſired to faſhion her counten- ance to the beſt grace, a Painter ſhould more benefite her to portraite a moſt ſweet face, wryting Canidia vpon it, then to paynt Canidia as ſhe was, who Horace ſweareth, was foule and ill fauoured. If the Poet doe his part a-right, he will ſhew you in Zamfalus, Atreus, and ſuch like, nothing that is not to be ſhunned. In Cyrus, Aeneas, V/iffes, each thing to be followed; where the Hiſtorian, bound to tell things -as things were, cannot be liberall (without hee will be poeticall) of a perfeót patterne : but as in Alexander or Scipio himſelfe, ſhew dooings, ſome to be liked, ſome to be miſliked. And then how will you diſcerne what to followe but by your owne diſcretion, which you had without reading Quânſus Curtius P And whereas a man may ſay, though in vniuerſall conſideration of doćtrine the Poet preuaileth; yet that the hiſtorie, in his ſaying ſuch a thing was doome, doth warrant a man more in that nee ſhall follow. The aunſwere is manifeſt, that if hee ſtande vpon that was ; as if hee ſhould argue, becauſe it rayned yeſterday, therefore it ſhoulde rayne to day, then A'OR AOA, 7 RAAE. 37 indeede it hath ſome aduantage to a groſe conceite : but if he know an example onlie, informes a coniećtured likelihood, and ſo goe by reaſon, the Poet dooth ſo farre exceede him, as hee is to frame his example to that which is moſt reaſonable : be it in warlike, politick, or priuate matters; where the His- torian in his bare VVas, hath many times that which wee call fortune, to ouer-rule the beſt wiſedome. Manie times, he muſt tell euents, whereof he can yeelde no cauſe: or if hee doe, it muſt be poeticall; for that a fayned example, hath aſnuch force to teach, as a true example: (for as for to mooue, it is cleere, fith the fayned may bee tuned to the higheſt key of paſsion) let vs take one example, wherein a Poet and a Hiſtorian doe concur. Aerodotus and /u/line do both teſtifie, that Zopirus, King Darius faithful ſeruaunt, ſeeing his Maiſter long reſiſted by the rebellious Babilonians, fayned himſelfe in extreame diſgrace of his King : for verifying of which, he cauſed his own noſe and eares to be cut off: and ſo flying to the Babylonians, was receiued : and for his knowne valour, ſo far credited, that hee did finde meanes to deliuer them ouer to ZXarius. Much like matter doth Ziuie record of Zarguinius and his ſonne. Xenophon excellently faineth ſuch another ſtratageme, performed by Abradates in Cyrus behalfe. Now would I fayne know, if occaſion bee preſented wnto you, to ſerue your Prince by ſuch an honeſt diſsimulation, why you doe not as well learne it of Meno/ions fićtion, as of the others verity: and truely ſo much the better, as you ſhall ſaue your noſe by the bargaine : for Abradates did not counterfet ſo far. So then the beſt of the Hiſtorian, is ſubie&t to the Poet; for whatſoeuer action, or faction, whatſoeuer counſell, pollicy, or warre ſtratagem, the Hiſtorian is bound to recite, that may the Poet (if he liſt) with his imitation make his own ; beautifying it both for further teaching, and more delighting, as it pleaſeth him ; hauing all, from Dante his heauen, to hys hell, vinder the authoritie •- 38 AAW APOZOG/E of his penne. VWhich if I be asked what Poets haue done ſo, as I might well name ſome, yet ſay I, and ſay againe, I ſpeak of the Arte, and not of the Artificer. Nowe, to that which commonly is attributed to the prayſe of hiſtories, in reſpect of the notable learning is gotten by marking the ſucceſſe, as though therein a man ſhould ſee vertue exalted, and vice puniſhed. Truely that commendation is peculiar to Poetrie, and farre of from Hiſtory. For indeede Poetrie euer ſetteth vertue ſo out in her beſt cullours, making Fortune her wel-wayting hand-mayd, that one muſt needs be enamored of her. VVell may you ſee Vliffes in a ſtorme, and in other hard plights ; but they are but exerciſes of patience and magnanimitie, to make them ſhine the more in the neere-following proſperitie. And of the contrarie part, if euill men come to the ſtage, they euer goe out (as the Tragedie VVriter anſwered, to one that miſliked the ſhew of ſuch perſons) ſo manacled, as they little animate folkes to followe them. But the Hiſtorian, beeing cap- tiued to the trueth of a fooliſh world, is many times a terror ſrom well dooing, and an incouragement to vn- brideled wickednes. For, ſee wee not valiant Milciades rot in his fetters ? The iuſt Phocion, and the accompliſhed Socrates, put to death like Traytors? The cruell Seuerus liue proſperouſly? The excellent Seuerus miſerably mur- thered? Sylla and Marius dying in theyr beddes? Pompey and Cicero ſlaine then, when they would haue thought exile a happineſſe P See wee not vertuous Cato driuen to kyll himſelfe P and rebell Caeſar ſo aduaunced, that his name yet after 16oo. yeares, laſteth in the higheſt honor P And marke but euen Caeſars own words of the fore-named Sylla, (who in that onely did honeſtly, to put downe his diſhoneſt tyrannie,) Ziferas meſciuit, as if want of learning cauſed him to doe well. Hee meant it not by Poetrie, which not content with earthly plagues, deuiſeth new puniſhments in hel for Tyrants: nor yet AWOR ANOAZ ZººZAE. 39 by Philoſophie, which teacheth Occidendos effe, but no doubt by ſkill in Hiſtorie: for that indeede can affoord your Cipſelus, Periander, Phalaris, Dioniſius, and I know not how many more of the ſame kennell, that speede well enough in theyr abhominable vniuſtice or vſurpation. I conclude therefore, that hee excel- leth Hiſtorie, not onely in furniſhing the minde with knowledge, but in ſetting it forward, to that which deſerueth to be called and accounted good; which ſet- ting forward, and moouing to well dooing, indeed ſet- teth the Lawrell crowne vpon the Poet as vićtorious, not onely of the Hiſtorian, but ouer the Phyloſopher: howſoeuer in teaching it may bee queſtionable. For ſuppoſe it be granted, (that which I ſuppoſe with great reaſon may be denied,) that the Philoſo- pher in reſpect of his methodical proceeding, doth teach more perfeólly then the Poet : yet do I thinke, that no man is ſo much Philoſº/iiloſoft/los, as to compare the Philoſopher in moouing, with the Poet. And that moouing is of a higher degree then teaching, it may by this appeare : that it is wel nigh the cauſe and the effect of teaching. For who will be taught, if hee bee not mooued with deſire to be taught P and what ſo much good doth that teaching bring forth, (I ſpeak ſtill of morrall doćtrine) as that it mooueth one to doe that which it dooth teach P for as Ariſłotle ſayth, it is not Gnoſis, but Praxis muſt be the fruit. And howe Praxis cannot be, without being mooued to practiſe, it is no hard matter to conſider. The Philoſopher ſheweth you the way, hee infor- meth you of the particularities, as well of the tedious- nes of the way, as of the pleaſant lodging you ſhall haue when your iourney is ended, as of the many by- turnings that may diuert you from your way. But this is to no man but to him that will read him, and read him with attentiue ſtudious painfulnes. VVhich conſtant deſire, whoſoeuer hath in him, hath already paſt halfe the hardnes of the way, and therefore is be- holding to the Philoſopher but for the other halſe, 4o AMW APOLOGIE Nay truely, learned men haue learnedly thought, that where once reaſon hath ſo much ouer-maſtred paſsion, as that the minde hath a free deſire to doe well, the inward light each minde hath in it selfe, is as good as a Philoſophers booke; ſeeing in nature we know it is wel, to doe well, and what is well, and what is euill, although not in the words of Arte, which Philoſophers beſtowe vpon vs. For out of naturall conceit, the Philoſophers drew it, but to be moued to doe that which we know, or to be mooued with deſire to knowe, Hoc opus : Hic labor eſſ. Nowe therein of all Sciences, (I ſpeak ſtill of humane, and according to the humane conceits) is our Poet the Monarch. For he dooth not only ſhow the way, but giueth ſo ſweete a proſpect into the way, as will intice any man to enter into it. Nay, he dooth as if your iourney should lye through a fayre Vineyard, at the firſt giue you a cluſter of Grapes : that full of that taſte, you may long to paſſe further. He begin- neth not with obſcure definitions, which muſt blur the margent with interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulneſſe: but hee commeth to you with words sent in delightfull proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for the well inchaunting skill of Muſicke; and with a tale forſooth he commeth vnto you : with a tale which holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney Corner. And pretending no more, doth intende the winning of the mind from wicked- neſſe to vertue : euen as the childe is often brought to take moſt wholſom things, by hiding them in such other as haue a pleaſant taſt : which iſ one ſhould beginne to tell them, the nature of Aloes, or ſºuðará they ſhoulde receiue, woulde ſooner take their Phiſicke at their eares, then at their mouth. So is it in men (moſt of which are childiſh in the beſt things, till they bee cradled in their graues,) glad they will be to heare the tales of Aſercules, Ac/hi//es, Cyrus, and Aeneas: and hearing them, muſt needs heare the right deſcrip- tion of wiſdom, valure, and iuſtice; which, if they had V A'OR /2O/2 7 RAAE. 41 been barely, that is to ſay, Philoſophically ſet out, they would ſweare they bee brought to ſchoole againe. That imitation wherof Poetry is, hath the moſt con- ueniency to Nature of all other, in ſomuch, that as Ariſtotle ſayth, thoſe things which in themſelues are horrible, as cruell battailes, vnnaturall Monſters, are made in poeticall imitation delightfull, Truely I haue knowen men, that euen with reading Amadis de Gaule, (which God knoweth wanteth much of a perfect Poeſie) haue found their harts mooued to the exerciſe of Courteſie, liberalitie, and eſpecially courage. VWho readeth Aeneas carrying olde Anchiſes on his back, that wiſheth not it were his fortune to perfourme ſo excellent an acte P VVhom due not the words of Złurnus mooue P (the tale of Zhurnus, hauing planted his image in the imagination,) Algientem ſide terra widebit, Vºſyue adeone ſnori miſerum C/?? VVhere the Philoſophers, as they ſcorne to delight, ſo muſt they bee content little to mooue: ſauing wrang- ling, whether Vertue bee the chiefe, or the onely good: vvhether the contemplatiue, or the actiue life doe ex- cell ; which A2/a/o and Æoeſ/hºmes well knew, and there- fore made Miſtres Philoſophy, very often borrow the maſking rayment of Poeſie. For euen thoſe harde harted euill men, who thinke vertue a ſchoole name, and knowe no other good, but indu/ºcre genio, and therefore deſpiſe the auſtere admonitions of the Philo- ſopher, and feele not the inward reaſon they ſtand vpon ; yet will be content to be delighted : which is al, the good felow Poet ſeemeth to promiſe : and ſo ſteale to ſee the forme of goodnes (which ſeene they cannot but loue) ere themſelues be aware, as if they tooke a medicine of Cherries. Infinite proofes of the ſtrange effects of this poeticall inuention might be alledged, onely two ſhall ſerue, which are ſo often remembred, as I thinke all men knowe them. The one of AZelenius Agrippa, who when the whole 42 AAV AFOZOGYE people of Rome had reſolutely deuided themſelues from the Senate, with apparant ſhew of viter ruine : though hee were (for that time) an excellent Oratour, came not among them, vpon truſt of figuratiue ſpeeches, or cunning inſinuations: and much leſſe, with farre ſet Maximes of Phyloſophie, which (eſpecially if they were Platonick,) they muſt haue learned Geometrie before they could well haue conceiued : but forſooth he behaues himſelfe, like a homely, and familiar Poet. Hee telleth them a tale, that there was a time, when all the parts of the body made a mutinous conſpiracie againſt the belly, which they thought deuoured the fruits of each others labour: they concluded they would let ſo vnprofitable a ſpen- der starue. In the end, to be ſhort, (for the tale is notorious, and as notorious that it was a tale,) with puniſhing the belly, they plagued themſelues. This applied by him, wrought ſuch effect in the people, as I neuer read, that euer words brought forth but then, ſo ſuddaine and ſo good an alteration ; for vpon rea- ſonable conditions, a perfeót reconcilement enſued. The other is of ZVathan the Prophet, who when the holie /)aluid had ſo far forſaken God, as to confirme adulterie with murther: when hee was to doe the ten- dereſt office of a friende, in laying his owne ſhame before his eyes, ſent by God to call againe ſo choſen a ſeruant: how doth he it? but by telling of a man, whose beloued Lambe was vngratefullie taken from his boſome : the applycation moſt diuinely true, but the diſcourſe it ſelfe, fayned: which made Dauid, (I ſpeake of the ſecond and inſtrumentall cauſe) as in a glaſſe, to ſee his own filthines, as that heauenly Pſalme of mercie wel teſtifieth. By theſe therefore examples and reaſons, I think it may be manifeſt, that the Poet with that ſame hand of delight, doth draw the mind more effectually, then any other Arte dooth, and ſo a concluſion not vnfitlie enſueth : that as vertue is the moſt excellent reſting place for all worldlie learning to make his end of: ſo APOA' A'OA27?/E. 43 Poetrie, beeing the moſt familiar to teach it, and inoſt princelie to moue towards it, in the moſt excellent work, is the moſt excellent workman. But I am content, not onely to decipher him by his workes, (although works in commendation or diſprayſe, muſt euer holde an high authority,) but more narrowly will examine his parts: ſo that (as in a man) though al- together may carry a preſence ful of maieſtie and beautie, perchance in ſome one defectious peece, we may find a blemiſh: now in his parts, kindes, or Species, (as you liſt to terme them) it is to be noted, that ſome Poeſies haue coupled together two or three kindes, as Tlagicall and Comicall, wher-vpon is riſen, the Tragi-comicall. Some in the like manner haue mingled Proſe and Verſe, as Sanazzar and Boetius. Some haue mingled matters Heroicall and Paſtorall. But that commeth all to one in this queſtion, for if ſeuered they be good, the coniunétion cannot be hurt- full. Therefore perchaunce forgetting ſome, and leauing ſome as needleſſe to be remembred, it ſhall not be amiſſe in a worde to cite the ſpeciall kindes, to ſee what faults may be found in the right vſe of them. Is it then the Paſtorall Poem which is miſliked P (for perchance, where the hedge is loweſt, they will ſooneſt leape ouer.) Is the poore pype diſdained, which ſometime out of Melibeus mouth, can ſhewe the miſerie of people, vinder hard Lords, or rauening Soul- diours? And again, by Złłirus, what bleſſednes is deriued to them that lye loweſt from the goodneſſe of them that fit higheſt? Sometimes, vnder the prettie tales of VVolues and Sheepe, can include the whole con- ſiderations of wrong dooing and patience. Sometimes ſhew, that contention for trifles, can get but a trifling vićtorie. VVhere perchaunce a man may ſee, that euen Alexander and Darius, when they ſtraue who ſhould be Cocke of thys worlds dunghill, the benefit they got, was, that the after-liuers may ſay, Aſac memini cf. vičium frtſ/ra comtendere 7%irſin: Bx illo Coridon, Coridon eſ; tempore nobis. 44 AAV AAOZOG/AE Or is it the lamenting Elegiack, which in a kinde hart would mooue rather pitty then blame, who bewailes with the great Philoſopher Heraclitus, the weakenes of man-kind, and the wretchednes of the world : who ſurely is to be prayſed, either for compaſsionate accom- panying iuſt cauſes of lamentation, or for rightly paynt- ing out how weake be the paſsions of wofulneſſe. Is it the bitter, but wholſome Iambick, which rubs the galled minde, in making ſhame the trumpet of villanie, with bolde and open Crying out againſt naughtines; Or the Satirick, who Omne vaſer vitium, ridenti tangit amico 2 VVho ſportingly neuer leaueth, vntil hee make a man laugh at folly, and at length aſhamed, to laugh at him- ſelfe: which he cannot auoyd, without auoyding the follie. VVho while Circum praºcordia Zudiº. giueth vs to feele, how many head-aches a paſſionate life bringeth vs to. How when all is done, F/l vſubris animus ſº nos non deficit acquus 2 No perchance it is the Comick, whom naughtie Play-makers and Stage-keepers, have iuſtly made odious. To the argument of abuſe, I will anſwer after. Onely thus much now is to be ſaid, that the Comedy is an imitation of the common errors of our life, which he repreſenteth, in the moſt ridiculous and ſcornefull ſort that may be. So as it is impoſsible, that any be- holder can be content to be ſuch a one. Now, as in Geometry, the oblique muſt bee knowne as well as the right: and in Arithmetick, the odde aſwell as the euen, ſo in the ačtions of our life, who ſeeth not the filthines of euil, wanteth a great foile to perceiue the beauty of vertue. This doth the Comedy handle ſo in our priuate and domeſtical matters, as with hearing it, we get as it were an experience, what, is to be looked for of a nigardly Zemed of a crafty Ayamus, of a flattering Gnato ; of a vaine glorious A'OR AOA, 7A/A2. 45 7%raſo : and not onely to know what effects are to be expected, but to know who be ſuch, by the ſignifying badge giuen them by the Comedian. And little reaſon hath any man to ſay, that men learne euill by ſeeing it so ſet out : ſith as I ſayd before, there is no man liuing, but by the force trueth hath in nature, no ſooner ſeeth theſe men play their parts, but wiſheth them in P://rinum : although perchance the ſack of his owne faults, lye ſo behinde hys back, that he ſeeth not himſelfe daunce the ſame meaſure : whereto, yet no- thing can more open his eyes, then to finde his own aćtions contemptibly ſet forth. So that the right vſe of Comedy will (I thinke) by no body be blamed, and much leſſe of the high and excellent Tragedy, that openeth the greateſt wounds, and ſheweth forth the Vicers, that are couered with Tiſſue : that maketh Kinges feare to be Tyrants, and Tyrants manifeſt their tirannicall humors: that with ſturring the affects of admiration and commiſeration, teacheth, the vncer- tainety of this world, and vpon how weake foundations guilden roofes are builded. That maketh vs knowe, Qui ſcepłra ſatuus, duro imperio regit, Timef timenſes, metus in authorem redit. But how much it can mooue, Plutarch yeeldeth a notable teſtimonie, of the abhominable Tyrant, Alexander Pheraeus ; from whoſe eyes, a Tragedy wel made, and repreſented, drewe aboundance of teares : who without all pitty, had murthered infinite nombers, and ſome of his owne blood. So as he, that was not aſhamed to make matters for Tragedies, yet coulde not reſiſt the ſweet violence of a Tragedie. And if it wrought no further good in him, it was, that he in deſpight of himſelfe, withdrewe himſelfe from harkening to that, which might mollifie his hardened heart. But it is not the Tragedy they doe miſlike : For it were too abſurd to caſt out ſo excel- lent a repreſentation of whatſoeuer is moſt worthy to be learned. Is it the Liricke that moſt diſpleaſeth, 46 AAW APOZOGYE who with his tuned Lyre, and wel accorded voyce, giueth praiſe, the reward of vertue, to vertuous acts? who giues morrall precepts, and naturall Problemes, who ſometimes rayſeth vp his voice to the height of the heauens, in ſinging the laudes of the immortall God. Certainly I muſt confeſſe my own barbarouſnes, I neuer heard the olde song of Percy and Duglas, that I found not my heart mooued more then with a Trumpet; and yet is it ſung but by ſome blinde Crouder, with no rougher voyce, then rude ſtile : which being ſo euill apparrelled in the duſt and cob- webbes of that vnciuill age, what would it worke trymmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar? In Aſungary I haue ſeene it the manner at all Feaſts, and other ſuch meetings, to haue ſonges of their Aun- ceſtours valour; which that right Souldier-like Nation thinck the chiefeſt kindlers of braue courage. The incomparable Zacedemonians, did not only carry that kinde of Muſicke euer with them to the field, but euen at home, as ſuch ſongs were made, ſo were they all content to bee the ſingers of them, when the luſly men were to tell what they dyd, the olde men, what they had done, and the young men what they wold doe. And where a man may ſay, that Pindar many times prayſeth highly victories of ſmall moment, matters rather of ſport then vertue : as it may be aunſwered, it was the fault of the Poet, and not of the Poetry; ſo indeede, the chiefe fault was in the tyme and cuſtome of the Greekes, who ſet thoſe toyes at ſo high a price, that Phillip of Macedon reckoned a horſe-race wonne at Olimpus, among hys three fearefull felicities. But as the vnimitable Pindar often did, ſo is that kinde moſt capable and moſt fit, to awake the thoughts from the ſleep of idlenes, to imbrace honorable enter- riſes. p There reſts the Heroicall, whoſe very name (I thinke) ſhould daunt all back-biters; for by what conceit can a tongue be directed to ſpeake euill of that, which draweth with it, no leſſe Champions AWOR AOA. TRZE. 47 then Achilles, Cyrus, Aeneas, Zurmus, Złdeus, and Rinaldo P who doth not onely teach and moue to a truth, but teacheth and mooueth to the moſt high and excellent truth. VVho maketh magnanimity and iuſ. tice ſhine, throughout all miſty fearefulnes and foggy deſires. VWho, if the ſaying of Plato and 7ullie bee true, that who could ſee Vertue, would be wonderfully rauiſhed with the loue of her beauty : this man ſets her out to make her more louely in her holyday apparell, to the eye of any that will daine, not to diſ. daine, vntill they vnderſtand. But if any thing be already ſayd in the defence of ſweete Poetry, all con- curreth to the maintaining the Heroicall, which is not onely a kinde, but the beſt, and moſt accompliſhed kinde of Poetry. For as the image of each action ſtyrreth and inſtructeth the mind, ſo the loftie image of ſuch VVorthies, moſt inflameth the mind with deſire to be worthy, and informes with Counſel how to be worthy. Only let Aeneas be worne in the tablet of your memory, how he gouerneth himſelfe in the ruine of his Country, in the preſeruing his old Father, and carrying away his religious ceremonies : in obey- ing the Gods commandement to leaue ZXido, though not onely all paſsionate kindenes, but euen the humane confideration of vertuous gratefulnes, would haue craued other of him. How in ſtorms, howe in ſports, howe in warre, howe in peace, how a fugitiue, how vićtorious, how befiedged, how beſiedging, howe to ſtrangers, howe to allyes, how to enemies, howe to his owne : laſtly, how in his inward ſelfe, and howin his outward gouernment. And I thinke, in a minde not preiudiced with a preiudicating humor, hee will befound in excellencie fruitefull: yea, euen as Horace ſayth Melius Chriſ%po et Crantore. But truely I imagine, it falleth out with theſe Poet- whyppers, as with ſome good women, who often are ſicke, but in fayth they cannot tel where. So the name of Poetrie is odious to them, but neither his cauſe, nor effects, neither the ſum that containes him, 48 A W A POZOG/AE nor the particularities deſcending from him, giue any faſt handle to their carping diſprayſe. Sith then Poetrie is of all humane learning the moſt auncient, and of moſt fatherly antiquitie, as from whence other learnings haue taken theyr beginnings: fith it is ſo vniuerſall, that no learned Nation dooth deſpiſe it, nor no barbarous Nation is without it : ſith both Roman and Greek gaue diuine names vnto it: the one of prophecying, the other of making. And that indeede, that name of making is fit for him ; con- ſidering, that where as other Arts retaine themſelues within their ſubjećt, and receiue as it were, their beeing from it: the Poet onely, bringeth his owne ſtuffe, and dooth not learne a conceite out of a matter, but maketh matter for a conceite : Sith neither his deſcription, nor his ende, contayneth any euill, the thing deſcribed cannot be euill: Sith his effects be ſo good as to teach goodnes and to delight the learners: Sith therein, (namely in morrall doctrine, the chiefe of all knowledges,) hee dooth not onely farre paſſe the Hiſtorian, but for inſtructing, is well nigh comparable to the Philoſopher: and for mouing, leaues him behind him : Sith the holy ſcripture (wherein there is no vncleannes) hath whole parts in it poeticall. And that euen our Sauiour Chriſt, vouchſafed to vſe the flowers of it : Sith all his kindes are not onlie in their vnited formes, but in their ſeuered diſſed tions fully commendable, I think, (and think I thinke rightly) the Iawrell crowne appointed for tryumphing Captaines, doth worthilie (of al other learnings) honor the Poets tryumph. But becauſe wee haue eares aſwell as tongues, and that the lighteſt reaſons that may be, will ſeeme to weigh greatly, if nothing be put in the counter-ballance : let vs heare, and aſwell as wee can ponder, what obieótions may bee made againſt this Arte, which may be worthy, eyther of yeelding, or anſwering. Firſt truely I note, not onely in theſe Myſomouſou Poet-haters. but in all that kinde of people, who ſeek APOA” AO/27 A-ZZZ. 49 a prayſe by diſprayfing others, that they doe prodi- gally ſpend a great many wandering wordes, in quips, and ſcoffes; carping and taunting at each thing, which by ſtyrring the Spleene, may ſtay the braine from a through beholding the worthines of the ſubieót. Thoſe kinde of objećtions, as they are full of very idle eaſines, ſith there is nothing of ſo ſacred a ma- ieſtie, but that an itching tongue may rubbe it ſelfe vpon it: ſo deſerue they no other anſwer, but in ſteed of laughing at the ieſt, to laugh at the ieſter. VVee know a playing wit, can prayſe the diſcretion of an Aſſe; the comfortablenes of being in debt, and the iolly commoditie of beefng ſick of the plague. So of the contrary ſide, if we will turne Ouids verſe, Vf lateaf virtus, proximitate mali, that good lye hid in neereneſſe of the euill: Agrippa will be as merry in ſhewing the vanitie of Science, as Braſmus was in commending of follie. Neyther ſhall any man or matter eſcape ſome touch of theſe ſmyling raylers. But for Eraſmus and Agrippa, they had another foundation then the superficiall part would promiſe. Mary, theſe other pleaſant Fault-finders, who wil correct the Verbe, before they vnderſtande the Noune, and confute others knowledge before they confirme theyr owne : I would haue them onely remember, that ſcoffing commeth not of wiſedom. So as the beſt title in true Engliſh they gette with their merriments, is to be called good fooles: for ſo haue our graue Fore-fathers euer termed that humorous kinde of ieſters: but that which gyueth greateſt ſcope to their ſcorning humors, is ryming and verſing. It is already ſayde (and as I think, trulie ſayde) it is not ryming and verſing, that maketh Poeſie. One may bee a Poet without verſing, and a verſifier without Poetry. But yet, preſuppoſe it were inſeparable (as indeede it ſeemeth Scaligcriudgeth) truelie it were an inſeparable commendation. For if Oradio, next to Zafio, Speech next to Reaſon, bee the greateſt gyit D Ass” 5O AAW AA’O/ OG/AE beſtowed vpon mortalitie: that can not be praiſeleſſe, which dooth moſt polliſh that bleſsing of ſpeech, which conſiders each word, not only (as a man may ſay) by his forcible qualitie, but by his beſt meaſured quantitie, carrying euen in themſelues, a Harmonie : (without (perchaunce) Number, Meaſure, Order, Pro- portion, be in our time growne odious.) But lay a ſide the iuſt prayſe it hath, by beeing the onely fit ſpeech for Muſick, (Muſick I ſay, the moſt diuine ſtriker of the ſences :) thus much is vndoubtedly true, that if reading bee fooliſh, without remembring, memorie being the onely treaſurer of knowled[g]e, those words which are fitteſt for memory, are likewiſe moſt conuenient for knowledge. Now, that Verſe farre exceedeth Proſe in the knit- ting vp of the memory, the reaſon is manifeſt. The words, (beſides theyr delight which hath a great affi- nitie to memory,) beeing ſo ſet, as one word cannot be loſt, but the whole worke failes : which accuſeth it ſelfe, calleth the remembrance backe to it ſelfe, and ſo moſt ſtrongly confirmeth it; beſides, one word ſo as it were begetting another, as be it in ryme or meaſured verſe, by the former a manſhall haue a neere geſſe to the follower: laſtly, euen they that haue taught the Art of memory, haue ſhewed nothing ſo apt for it, as a certaine roome deuided into many places well and throughly knowne. Now, that hath the verſe in effect perfectly : euery word hauing his naturall ſeate, which feate, muſt needes make the words remembred. But what needeth more in a thing ſo knowne to all men P who is it that euer was a ſcholler, that doth not carry away ſome verſes of Virgill, Horace, or Cato, which in his youth he learned, and euen to his old age ſerue him for howrely leſſons? but the fitnes it hath for memory, is notably proued by all deliuery of Arts: wherein for the moſt part, from Grammer, to Logick, Mathematick, Phiſick, and the reſt, the rules chiefely neceſſary to bee borne away, are compiled in verſes. So that, verſe being in it ſelfe ſweete and orderly, and beeing beſt for memory, the ~ * AſOR AEO E 7/2/A2. 5 I onely handle of knowledge, it muſt be in ieſt that any man can ſpeake againſt it. Nowe then goe wee to the moſt important imputations laid to the poore Poets, for ought I can yet learne, they are theſe, firſt, that there beeing many other more fruitefull know- ledges, a man might better ſpend his tyme in them, then in this. Secondly, that it is the mother of lyes. Thirdly, that it is the Nurſe of abuſe, infecting vs with many peſtilent deſires: with a Syrens ſweetnes, draw- ing the mind to the Serpents tayle of ſinfull fancy. And heerein eſpecially, Comedies giue the largeſt field to erre, as Chaucer sayth : howe both in other Nations and in ours, before Poets did ſoften vs, we were full of courage, giuen to martiall exerciſes ; the pillers of manlyke liberty, and not lulled a ſleepe in ſhady idlenes with Poets paſtimes. And laſtly, and chiefely, they cry out with an open mouth, as if they out ſhot Robin Hood, that Plato baniſhed them out of hys Common-wealth. Truely, this is much, if there be much truth in it. Firſt to the firſt : that a man might better ſpend his tyme, is a reaſon indeede : but it doth (as they ſay) but Petere principium : for if it be as I affirme, that no learning is ſo good, as that which teacheth and mooueth to vertue ; and that none can both teach and moue thereto ſo much as Poetry : then is the concluſion manifeſt, that Incke and Paper cannot be to a more profitable purpoſe employed. And certainly, though a man ſhould graunt their firſt aſſumption, it ſhould followe (me thinkes) very unwill- ingly, that good is not good, becauſe better is better. But I ſtill and vtterly denye, that there is sprong out of earth a more fruitefull knowledge. To the ſecond therefore, that they ſhould be the principall lyars; I aunſwere paradoxically, but truely, I thinke truely; that of all VVriters vnder the ſunne, the Poet is the leaſt lier ; and though he would, as a Poet can ſcarcely be a lyer, the Aſtronomer, with his coſen the Geometri- cian, can hardly eſcape, when they take vpon them to meaſure the height of the ſtarres. 52 AAW APOZOG/AE How often, thinke you, doe the Phiſtians lye, when they auer things, good for ſickneſſes, which afterwards ſend Charon a great nomber of ſoules drown[e]d in a potion before they come to his Ferry. And no leſſe of the reſt, which take vpon them to affirme. Now, for the Poet, he nothing affirmes, and therefore neuer lyeth. For, as I take it, to lye, is to affirme that to be true which is falſe. So as the other Artiſts, and eſpe- cially the Hiſtorian, affirming many things, can in the cloudy knowledge of mankinde, hardly eſcape from many lyes. But the Poet as (I ſayd before) neuer affirmeth. The Poet neuer maketh any circles about your imagination, to coniure you to beleeue for true what he writes. Hee citeth not authorities of other Hiſtories, but euen for hys entry, calleth the ſweete Muſes to inſpire into him a good inuention: in troth, not labouring to tell you what is, or is not, but what ſhould or ſhould not be : and therefore, though he re. count things not true, yet becauſe hee telleth them not for true, he lyeth not, without we will ſay, that AVatham, lyed in his ſpeech, before alledged to ZXauid, VVhich as a wicked man durſt ſcarce ſay, ſo think I, none ſo ſimple would ſay, that Eſope lyed in the tales of his beaſts: for who thinks that Æſope writ it for actually true, were well worthy to haue his name ch]ronicled among the beaſtes hee writeth of. VWhat childe is there, that comming to a Play, and ſeeing Zhebes written in great Letters vpon an olde doore, doth beleeue that it is 7%ebes P. If then, a man can ariue, at that childs age, to know that the Poets perſons and dooings, are but pićtures what ſhould be, and not ſtories what haue beene, they will neuer giue the lye, to things not affirmatiuely, but allegorically, and figuratiuelie written. And therefore, as in Hiſtorie, looking for trueth, they goe away full fraught with falſ. hood : ſo in Poeſie, looking for fićtion, they ſhal vſe the narration, but as an imaginatiue groundplot of a profitable inuention. But heereto is replyed, that the Poets gyue names A.O.R AOAZ ZºZAZ. 53 to men they write of, which argueth a conceite of an aćtuall truth, and ſo, not being true, prooues a falſhood. And doth the Lawyer lye then, when vnder the names of John a ſile and /o/in a noakes, hee puts his caſe? But that is eaſily anſwered. Theyr naming of men, is but to make theyr pićture the more liuely, and not to builde any hiſtorie: paynting men, they cannot leaue men nameleſſe. VVe ſee we cannot play at Cheſſe, but that wee muſt giue names to our Cheſſe-men ; and yet mee thinks, hee were a very partiall Champion of truth, that would ſay we lyed, for giuing a peece of wood, the reuerend title of a Biſhop. The Poet nameth Cyrus or Aeneas, no other way, then to ſhewe, what men of theyr fames, fortunes, and eſtates, ſhould doe. Their third is, how much it abuſeth mens wit, trayn- ing it to wanton ſinfulnes, and luſtfull loue: for indeed that is the principall, if not the onely abuſe I can heare alledged. They ſay, the Comedies rather teach, then reprehend, amorous conceits. They ſay, the Lirick, is larded with paſsionate Sonnets. The Elegiack, weepes the want of his miſtreſſe. And that euen to the Hero- ical, Cupid hath ambitiouſly climed. Alas Loue, I would, thou couldeſt as well defende thy ſelfe, as thou canſt offende others. I would thoſe, on whom thou dooſt attend, could eyther put thee away, or yeelde good reaſon, why they keepe thee. But grant loue of beautie, to be a beaſtlie fault, (although it be very hard, fith onely man, and no beaſt, hath that gyft, to diſcerne beauty.) Grant, that louely name of Loue, to deſerue all hatefull reproches: (although euen ſome of my Maiſters the Phyloſophers, ſpent a good deale of theyr Lamp-oyle, in ſetting foorth the excellencie of it.) Grant, I ſay, what ſoeuer they wil haue granted; that not onely loue, but luſt, but vanitie, but, (if they liſt) ſcurrilitie, poſſeſſeth many leaues of the Poets bookes: yet thinke I, when this is granted, they will finde, theyr ſentence may with good manners, put the laſt words foremoſt : and not ſay, that Poetrie abuſeth mans wit, but that, mans wit abuſeth Poetrie. 54 AAV A PO/LOGAAE Tor I will not denie, but that mans wit may make Poeſie, (which ſhould be Eika/?ike, which ſome learned haue defined, figuring foorth good things,) to be Phanta/like: which doth contrariwiſe, infect the fancie with vnworthy obiects. As the Painter, that ſhoulde giue to the eye, eyther ſome excellent perſpectiue, or ſome fine pićture, fit for building or fortification: or contayning in it ſome notable example, as Abraham, ſacrificing his Sonne Iſaack, Zudith killing Holofernes, AXauid fighting with Goliah, may leaue thoſe, and pleaſe an ill-pleaſed eye, with wanton ſhewes of better hidden matters. But what, ſhall the abuſe of a thing, make the right vſe odious P Nay truely, though I yeeld, that Poeſie may not onely be abuſed, but that beeing abuſed, by the reaſon of his ſweete charming force, it can doe more hurt then any other Armie of words: yet ſhall it be ſo far from concluding, that the abuſe, ſhould giue reproch to the abuſed, that contrari- wiſe it is a good reaſon, that whatſoeuer being abuſed, dooth moſt harme, beeing rightly vſed: (and vpon the right vſe each thing conceiueth his title) doth moſt good. Doe wee not fee the ſkill of Phiſick, (the beſt rampire to our often-aſſaulted bodies) beeing abuſed, teach poyſon the moſt violent deſtroyer P Dooth not knowledge of Law, whoſe end is, to euen and right all things being abuſed, grow the crooked foſterer of horrible iniuries P Doth not (to goe to the higheſt) Gods word abuſed, breed hereſie P and his Name abuſed, become blaſphemie P Truely, a needle cannot doe much hurt, and as truely, (with leaue of Ladies be it ſpoken) it cannot doe much good. With a ſword, thou maiſt kill thy Father, and with a ſword thou maiſt defende thy Prince and Country. So that, as in their calling Poets the Fathers of lyes, they say nothing : ſo in this theyr argument of abuſe, they prooue the commendation. They alledge heere-with, that before Poets beganne to be in price, our Nation, hath ſet their harts delight vpon ačtion, and not vpon imagination : rather doing N | A.O.K.’ AOA27 RAAE, 55 things worthy to bee written, then writing things fitte to be done. VVhat that before tyme was, I thinke ſcarcely Sphinx can tell: Sith no memory is ſo auncient, that hath the precedence of Poetrie. And certaine it is, that in our plaineſt homelines, yet neuer was the Albion Nation without Poetrie. Mary, thys argu- ment, though it bee leaueld againſt Poetrie, yet is it indeed, a chaine-ſhot againſt all learning, or book- iſhnes, as they commonly tearme it. Of ſuch minde were certaine Gothes, of whom it is written, that hauing in the ſpoile of a famous Citie, taken a fayre librarie : one hangman (bee like fitte to execute the fruites of their wits) who had murthered a great number of bodies, would haue ſet fire on it: no ſayde another, very grauely, take heede what you doe, for whyle they are buſie about theſe toyes, wee ſhall with more leyſure conquer their Countries. This indeede is the ordinary doćtrine of ignorance, and many wordes ſometymes I haue heard ſpent in it : but becauſe this reaſon is generally againſtall learning, aſ well as Poetrie; or rather, all learning but Poetry: becauſe it were too large a digreſsion, to han- dle, or at leaſt, to ſuperfluous : (fith it is manifeſt, that all gouernment of a&tion, is to be gotten by know- ledg, and knowledge beſt, by gathering many know- ledges, which is, reading,) Ionely with Horace, to him that is of that opinion, Zubeo ſlultum effe libenter: for as for Poetrie it ſelfe, it is the freeſt from thys ob- ieótion. For Poetrie is the companion of the Campes. I dare vndertake, Orlando Furioſo, or honeſt King Arthur, will neuer diſpleaſe a Souldier: but the quid- dity of Ens, and Prima materia, will hardely agree with a Corſlet: and therefore, as I ſaid in the begin- ning, euen Turks and Tartares are delighted with Poets. Aſomter a Greek, floriſhed, before Greece floriſhed. And if to a ſlight coniečture, a coniećture may be oppoſed : truly it may ſeeme, that as by him, their learned men, tooke almoſt their firſt light of 56 A/V APO/COGYE knowledge, ſo their actiue men, receiued their firſt motions of courage. Onlie Alexanders example may ſerue, who by Plutarch is accounted of ſuch vertue, that Fortune was not his guide, but his foote-ſtoole: whoſe ačts ſpeake ſor him, though Plutarch did not: indeede, the Phoenix of warlike Princes. This A/ex- ander, left his Schoolemaiſter, liuing Ariſtotle, behinde him, but tooke deade Homer with him : he put the Philoſopher Cali/ſhemes to death, for his ſeeming philo- ſophicall, indeed mutinous ſtubburnnes. But the chiefe thing he euer was heard to wiſh for, was, that Homer had been aliue. He well found, he receiued more brauerie of minde, bye the patterne of Achilles, then by hearing the definition of Fortitude: and therefore, if Cato miſliked Fu/uius, for carying Ennius with him to the fielde, it may be aunſwered, that if Cato miſliked it, the noble Fuſuius liked it, or els he had not doone it: for it was not the excellent Cato Vficenſis, (whoſe authority I would much more haue reuerenced,) but it was the former: in truth, a bitter puniſher of faults, but elſe, a man that had neuer wel ſacrificed to the Graces. Hee miſliked and cryed out vpon all Greeke learning, and yet being 80. yeeres olde, began to learne it. Be-like, fearing that Pluto vnderſtood not Latine. Indeede, the Romaine lawes allowed, no perſon to be carried to the warres, but hee that was in the Souldiers role : and therefore, though Cato miſliked his vnmuſtered perſon, hee miſliked not his worke. And if hee had, Scipio Maſca iudged by com- mon conſent, the beſt Romaine, loued him. Both the other Scipio Brothers, who had by their vertues no leſſe ſurnames, then of Aſia, and Affrick, ſo loued him, that they cauſed his body to be buried in their Sepul- cher. So as Cato, his authoritie being but againſt his perſon, and that aunſwered, with ſo farre greater then himſelfe, is heerein of no validitie. But now indeede my burthen is great ; now Plato his name is layde vpon mee, whom I muſt confeſſe, of all Philoſophers, I haue euer eſteemed moſt worthy of reuerence, and AWO/8 AOA. TRZAZ. 57 with great reaſon: Sith of all Philoſophers, he is the moſt poeticall. Yet if he will defile the Fountaine, out of which his flowing ſtreames haue proceeded, let vs boldly examine with what reaſons hee did it. Firſt truly, a man might maliciouſly obječt, that Plato being a Philoſopher, was a naturall enemie of Poets: for indeede, after the Philoſophers, had picked out of the ſweete miſteries of Poetrie, the right diſcerning true points of knowledge, they forthwith putting it in method, and making a Schoole-arte of that which the Poets did onely teach, by a diuine delightfulnes, begin- ning to ſpurne at their guides, like vngratefull Prentiſes, were not content to ſet vp ſhops for themſelues, but ſought by all meanes to diſcredit their Maiſters. VWhich by the force of delight beeing barred them, the leſſe they could ouerthrow them, the more they hated them. For indeede, they found for Homer, ſeauen Cities ſtroue, who ſhould haue him for their Citizen : where many Citties baniſhed Philoſophers, as not fitte mem- bers to liue among them. For onely repeating certaine of Euripides verſes, many Athenians had their lyues ſaued of the Siracuſians : when the Athenians them- ſelues, thought many Philoſophers, vnwoorthie to liue. Certaine Poets, as Simonides, and Pindarus had ſo preuailed with Hiero the firſt, that of a Tirant they made him a juſt King, where Plato could do ſo little with ZXioniſt/s, that he himſelfe, of a Philoſopher, was made a ſlaue. But who should doe thus, I confeſſe, ſhould requite the objećtions made againſt Poets, with like cauillation againſt Philoſophers, as likewiſe one ſhould doe, that ſhould bid one read Phadrus, or Symposium in Plaio, or the diſcourſe of loue in Plu- farch, and ſee whether any Poet doe authorize abhomin- able filthines, as they doe. Againe, a man might aske out of what Common-wealth AE/aſſo did baniſh them P inſooth, thence where he himſelfe alloweth communi- tie of women : So as belike, this baniſhment grewe not for effeminate wantonnes, ſith little should poeti- call Sonnets be hurtfull, when a man might haue what 58 AA’ AAPOZOG/E woman he liſted. But I honor philoſophicall inſtruc. tions, and bleſſe the wits which bred them : ſo as they be not abuſed, which is likewiſe ſtretched to Poetrie. S. Paule himſelfe, (who yet for the credite of Poets) alledgeth twiſe two Poets, and one of them by the name of a Prophet, ſetteth a watch-word vpon Philo- ſophy, indeede vpon the abuſe. So dooth Plato, vpon the abuſe, not vpon Poetrie. Plato found fault, that the Poets of his time, filled the worlde, with wrong opinions of the Gods, making light tales of that vn- ſpotted eſſence ; and therefore, would not haue the youth depraued with ſuch opinions. Heerin may much be ſaid, let this ſuffice : the Poets did not in- duce ſuch opinions, but dyd imitate thoſe opinions already induced. For all the Greek ſtories can well teſtifie, that the very religion of that time, ſtoode vpon many, and many-faſhioned Gods, not taught ſo by the Poets, but followed, according to their nature of imita- tion. VVho liſt, may reade in Plutarch, the diſcourſes of Iſis, and Oſiris, of the cauſe why Oracles ceaſed, of the diuine prouidence: and ſee, whether the Theo- logie of that nation, ſtood not vpon ſuch dreames, which the Poets indeed ſuperſticiouſly obſerued, and truly, (fith they had not the light of Chriſt,) did much better in it then the Philoſophers, who ſhaking off ſuperſtition, brought in Atheiſme. Plato therefore, (whoſe authoritie I had much rather iuſtly conſter, then uniuſtly reſiſt,) meant not in general of Poets, in thoſe words of which Zulius Sca/iger ſaith Qua autho- 7:itate, barbari guidam, atque hiſ?idi, abuti velinț, ad Poctas 6 republica exigendos : but only meant, to driue out thoſe wrong opinions of the Deitie (whereof now, without further law, Chriſtianity hath taken away all the hurtful beliefe,) perchance (as he thought) noriſhed by the then eſteemed Poets. And a man need goe no further then to Alato himſelfe, to know his mean- ing : who in his Dialogue called Zon, giueth high, and rightly diuine commendation to Poetrie. So as Plato, biniſhing the abuſe, not the thing, not baniſhing it, APOA' A'OE ZºZAE. 59 but giuing due honor vnto it, ſhall be our Patron, and not our aduerſarie. For indeed I had much rather, (fith truly I may doe it) ſhew theyr miſtaking of Plato, (vnder whoſe Lyons ſkin they would make an Aſſe- like braying againſt Poeſie,) then goe about to ouer. throw his authority, whom the wiſer a man is, the more iuſt cauſe he ſhall find to haue in admiration : eſpecially, fith he attributeth vnto Poeſie, more then my ſelfe doe; namely, to be a very inſpiring of a diuine force, farre aboue mans wit ; as in the afore. named Dialogue is apparant. Of the other ſide, who wold ſhew the honors, haue been by the beſt ſort of iudgements granted them, a whole Sea of examples woulde preſent themſelues. Alexanders, Caeſars, Scipios, al fauorers of Poets. Aelius, called the Romane Socrates, himſelfe a Poet : ſo as part of Heaufontimorumenon in Zerence, was ſup- poſed to be made by him. And euen the Greek Socrates, whom Apollo confirmed to be the onely wiſe man, is ſayde to haue ſpent part of his old tyme, in putting Æſoft's fables into verſes. And therefore, full euill ſhould it become his ſcholler Plato, to put ſuch words in his Maiſters mouth, againſt Poets. But what need more ? Ariſtotle writes the Arte of Poefie: and why if it ſhould not be written ? Plutarch teacheth the vſe to be gathered of them, and how if they ſhould not be read P And who reades P//farchs eyther hiſ. torie or philoſophy, ſhall finde, hee trymmeth both theyr garments, with gards of Poeſie. But I liſt not to defend Poeſie, with the helpe of her vnderling, Hiſtoriography. Let it ſuffiſe, that it is a fit ſoyle for prayſe to dwell vpon ; and what diſpraiſe may ſet vpon it, is eyther eaſily ouer-come, or transformed into iuſt commendation. So that, ſith the excellencies of it, may be ſo eaſily, and ſo iuſtly confirmed, and the low- creeping obiections, ſo ſoone troden downe ; it not being an Art of lyes, but of true doćtrine : not of effeminatenes, but of notable ſtirring of courage : not of abuſing mans witte, but of ſtrengthning mans wit: 6o AMW APOZOG/E not baniſhed, but honored by Alato: let vs rather plant more Laurels, for to engarland our Poets heads, (which honor of beeing laureat, as beſides them, onely tryumphant Captaines weare, is a ſufficient authority, to ſhewe the price they ought to be had in,) then ſuffer the ill-fauouring breath of ſuch wrong-ſpeakers, Once to blowe vpon the cleere ſprings of Poeſie. But ſith I have runne ſo long a careere in this matter, me thinks, before I giue my penne a fulle ſlop, it ſhalbe but a little more loſt time, to in- quire, why England, (the Mother of excellent mindes,) ſhould bee growne ſo hard a ſtep-mother to Poets, vvho certainly in wit ought to paſſe all other : ſith all onely proceedeth from their wit, being indeedemakers of them- ſelues, not takers of others. How can I but exclaime, A/uſa mihá cauſas memora, 7tto numine laſo. Sweete Poeſie, that hath aunciently had Kings, Emperors, Senators, great Captaines, ſuch, as be- ſides a thouſand others, Dauid, Adrian, Sophocles, Germanicus, not onely to fauour Poets, but to be Poets. And of our neerer times, can preſent for her Patrons, a ſobert, king of Sicil, the great king Aºrancis of France, King James of Scotland. Such Cardinals as Bembus, and Bibiena. Such famous Preachers and Teachers, as Beza and Meland?hon. So learned Philoſophers, as Fracaſſorius and Scaliſer. So great Orators, as Pontanus and Mureius. So piercing wits, as George Buchanan. So graue Coun- ſellors, as beſides many, but before all, that Hoſpital, of Fraunce: then whom, (I thinke) that Realme neuer brought forth a more accompliſhed iudgement: more firmely builded vpon vertue. I ſay theſe, with numbers of others, not onely to read others Poeſies, but to poetiſe for others reading, that Poeſie thus em- braced in all other places, ſhould onely finde in Our time, a hard welcome in England, I thinke the very earth lamenteth it, and therfore decketh our Soyle with fewer Laurels then it was accuſtomed. For heerto- fore, Poets haue in England alſo floriſhed. And which AOR AOA 7"RZAE. 61 is to be noted, euen in thoſe times, when the trumpet of Mars did ſounde loudeſt. And now, that an ouer- faint quietnes ſhould ſeeme to ſtrew the houſe for Poets, they are almoſt in as good reputation, as the Mountibancks at Venice. Truly euen that, as of the one ſide, it giueth great praiſe to Poeſie, which like Venus, (but to better purpoſe) hath rather be troubled in the net with Mars, then enioy the homelie quiet of Vulcan : ſo ſerues it for a peece of a reaſon, why they are leſſe gratefull to idle England, which nowe can ſcarce endure the payne of a pen. Vpon this, neceſſarily followeth, that baſe men, with ſeruile wits vndertake it: who think it inough, if they can be rewarded of the Printer. And ſo as Epaminoudas is ſayd, with the honor of his vertue, to haue made an office, by his exerciſing it, which before was con- temptible, to become highly reſpected : ſo theſe, no more but ſetting their names to it, by their owne diſ- gracefulnes, diſgrace the moſt gracefull Poeſie. For now, as if all the Muſes were gotte with childe, to bring foorth baſtard Poets, without any commiſsion, they doe poſte ouer the banckes of Helicon, tyll they make the readers more weary then Poſt-horſes: while in the mean tyme, they Queis meliore Zuto ſºn wif praºcordia Zitan, are better content, to ſuppreſſe the out-flowing of their wit, then by publiſhing them, to bee accounted Knights of the same order. But I, that before euer I durſt aſpire wnto the dignitie, am admitted into the company of the Paper-blurers, doe finde the very true cauſe of our wanting eſtimation, is want of deſert: taking vpon vs to be Poets, in deſpight of Pallas. Nowe, wherein we want deſert, were a thanke-worthy labour to ex- preſſe: but if I knew, I ſhould haue mended my ſelfe. But I, as I neuer deſired the title, ſo haue I neglected the meanes to come by it. Onely ouer-maſtred by ſome thoughts, I yeelded an inckie tribute vnto them. Mary, they that delight in Poefie it ſelfe, ſhould ſeeke to knowe what they doe, and how they doe; and 62 AAV AA’OZOGAAE eſpecially, looke themſelues in an vnflattering Glaſſe of reaſon, if they bee inclinable vnto it. For Poeſie, muſt not be drawne by the eares, it muſt bee gently led, or rather, it muſt lead. VWhich was partly the cauſe, that made the auncient-learned affirme, it was a diuine gift, and no humaine skill: fith all other knowledges, lie ready for any that hath ſtrength of witte: A Poet, no industrie can make, if his owne Genius bee not carried vnto it : and therefore is it an old Prouerbe, Orator fit; Poeta nascitur. Yet confeſſe I alwayes, that as the firtileſt ground muſt bee manured, so muſt the higheſt flying wit, have a ZX-da/us to guide him. That AJ&dalus, they ſay, both in this, and in other, hath three wings, to beare it ſelfe vp into the ayre of due commendation : that is, Arte, Imitation, and Exerciſe. But theſe, neyther artificiall rules, nor imitatiue pat- ternes, we much cumber our ſelues withall. Exerciſe indeede wee doe, but that, very fore-backwardly: for where we should exerciſe to know, wee exerciſe as hauing knowne: and ſo is oure braine deliuered of much matter, which neuer was begotten by knowledge. For, there being two principal parts, matter to be expreſſed bywordes, and words to expreſſe the matter, in neyther, wee vſe Arte, or Innitation, rightly. Our matter is Quod'. /ibit indeed, though wrongly perfourming Ouids verſe. (Quicquid comabar dicere verſus erit:) neuer marſhalling it into an aſſured rancke, that almoſl the readers cannot tell where to finde themſelues. Chaucer, vndoubtedly did excellently in hys Złoy- /us and Creſſeid; of whom, truly I know not, whether to meruaile more, either that he in that miſtie time, could ſee ſo clearely, or that wee in this cleare age, walke ſo ſtumblingly after him. Yet had he great wants, fitte to be ſorgiuen, in ſo reuerent antiquity. I account the Mirrour of Magiſtrates, meetely furniſhed of beautiful parts; and in the Earle of Surries Ziricks, many things taſting of a noble birth, and worthy of a noble minde. The Sheap/heards Kalender, hath much Poetrie in his Eglogues : indeede worthy the reading AſOK? AOA. TRZAE. 63 if I be not deceiued. That ſame framing of his ſtile, to an old ruſtick language, I dare not alowe, fith neyther Zheocritus in Greeke, Virgi// in Latine, nor Sanazar in Italian, did affect it. Beſides theſe, doe I not remember to haue ſeene but fewe, (to ſpeake boldely) printed, that haue poeticall ſinnewes in them : for proofe whereof, let but moſt of the verſes bee put in Proſe, and then aske the meaning; and it will be found, that one verſe did but beget another, without ordering at the firſt, what ſhould be at the laſt : which becomes a confuſed maſſe of words, with a ting- ling ſound of ryme, barely accompanied with reaſon. Our Tragedies, and Comedies, (not without cauſe cried out againſt,) obſeruing rules, neyther of honeſt ciuilitie, nor of ſkilfull Poetrie, excepting Gorbodiack, (againe, I ſay, of thoſe that I haue ſeene,) which not- withſtanding, as it is full of ſtately ſpeeches, and well ſounding Phraſes, clyming to the height of Seneca his ſtile, and as full of notable moralitie, which it doth moſt delightfully teach ; and ſo obtayne the very end of Poeſie : yet in troth it is very defectious in the circumſtaunces ; which greeueth mee, becauſe it might not remaine as an exact model of all Tragedies. For it is faulty both in place, and time, the two neceſ. ſary companions of all corporall actions. For where the ſlage ſhould alwaies repreſent but one place, and the vitermoſt time preſuppoſed in it, ſhould be, both by Ariſtotles precept, and common reaſon, but one day: there is both many dayes, and many places, in- artificially imagined. But if it be ſo in Gorbodu, K, how much more in al the reſt ? where you ſhal haue Aſia of the One ſide, and Affrick of the other, and ſo many other vnder-kingdoms, that the Player, when he commeth in, muſt euer begin with telling where he is: or els, the tale wil not be conceiued. Now ye ſhal haue three Ladies, walke to gather flowers, and then we muſt beleeue the ſtage to be a Garden. By and by, we heare newes of ſhipwracke in the ſame place, and then wee are to bli.e, if we accept it not for a Rock. 64 AAW AA’OZOGZA, Vpon the backe of that, comes out a hidious Mon- ſter, with fire and ſmoke, and then the miſerable beholders, are bounde to take it for a Caue. VVhile in the mean-time, two Armies flye in, repreſented with foure ſwords and bucklers, and then what harde heart will not receiue it for a pitched fielde P Now, of time they are much more liberall, for ordinary it is that two young Princes fall in loue. After many trauerces, ſhe is got with childe, deliuered of a faire boy, he is loſt, groweth a man, falls in loue, and is ready to get another child, and all this in two hours ſpace: which how abſurd it is in ſence, euen ſence may imagine, and Arte hath taught, and all auncient examples iuſtified: and at this day, the ordinary Players in Italie, wil not erre in. Yet wil ſome bring in an example of Eunuchus in Zerence, that con- taineth matter of two dayes, yet far ſhort of twenty yeeres. True it is, and ſo was it to be playd in two daies, and ſo fitted to the time it ſet forth. And though A/autus hath in one place done amiſſe, let vs hit with him, and not miſſe with him. But they wil ſay, how then ſhal we ſet forth a ſtory, which containeth both many places, and many times P And doe they not knowe, that a Tragedie is tied to the lawes of Poeſie, and not of Hiſtorie P not bound to follow the ſtorie, but hauing liberty, either to faine a quite newe mat- ter, or to frame the hiſtory, to the moſt tragicall con- ueniencie. Againe, many things may be told, which cannot be ſhewed, if they knowe the difference betwixt reporting and repreſenting. As for example, I may ſpeake, (though I am heere) of Peru, and in ſpeech, digreſſe from that, to the deſcription of Calicut: but in action, I cannot repreſent it without Pacolets horſe: and ſo was the manner the Auncients tooke, by ſome AVulcius, to recount thinges done in former time, or other place. Laſtly, if they wil repreſent an hiſtory, they muſt not (as Horace faith) beginne Ab ouo : but they muſt come to the principall poynt of that one aćtion, which they wil repreſent. By example this AWOR AOAZ 7 RAE. 65 wil be beſt expreſſed. I haue a ſtory of young Poli- dorus, deliuered for ſafeties ſake, with great riches, by his Father Priamus to Polimme/for king of 7%race, in the Troyan war time: Hee after ſome yeeres, hearing the ouer-throwe of Priamus, for to make the treaſure his owne, murthereth the child: the body of the child is taken vp Hecuba, ſhee the ſame day, findeth a flight to bee reuenged moſt cruelly of the Tyrant: where nowe would one of our Tragedy writers begin, but with the deliuery of the childe P Then ſhould he ſayle ouer into Thrace, and ſo ſpend I know not how many yeeres, and trauaile numbers of places. But where dooth Æuripides P Euen with the finding of the body, leauing the reſt to be tolde by the ſpirit of Polidorus. This need no further to be inlarged, the dulleſt wit may conceiue it. But beſides theſe groſſe abſurdities, how all theyr Playes be neither right Tragedies, nor right Comedies: mingling Kings and Clownes, not becauſe the matter ſo carrieth it : but thruſt in Clownes by head and ſhoulders, to play a part in maieſticall matters, with neither decencie, nor diſcretion. So as neither the admiration and commiſeration, nor the right ſportfulnes, is by their mungrell Tragy-comedie obtained. I know Apuleius did ſome-what ſo, but that is a thing recounted with ſpace of time, not repreſented in one moment: and I knowe, the Auncients haue one or two examples of Tragy-comedies, as Plautus hath Amphitrio: But if we marke them well, we ſhall find, that they neuer, or very daintily, match Horn-pypes and Funeralls. So falleth it out, that hauing indeed no right Comedy, in that comicall part of our Tragedy, we haue nothing but ſcurrility, vnwoorthy of any chaſt eares : or ſome extreame ſhew of doltiſhnes, indeed fit to lift vp a loude laughter, and nothing els: where the whole tract of a Comedy, ſhoulde be full of delight, as the Tragedy ſhoulde be ſtill maintained, in a well raiſed admiration. But our Comedians, thinke there is no delight without laughter, which is very wrong, for * E 66 AAW AAO/COG/AE though laughter may come with delight, yet commeth it not of delight: as though delight ſhould be the cauſe of laughter, but well may one thing breed both together : nay, rather in themſelues, they haue as it were, a kind of contrarietie : for delight we ſcarcely doe, but in things that haue a conueniencie to our ſelues, or to the generall nature: laughter, almoſt euer Commeth, of things moſt diſproportioned to our ſelues, and nature. Delight hath a joy in it, either permanent, or preſent. Iaughter, hath onely a ſcornful tickling. For example, we are rauiſhed with delight to ſee a faire woman, and yet are far from being moued to laughter. VVe laugh at deformed creatures, wherein certainely we cannot delight. VVe delight in good chaunces, we laugh at miſchaunces; we delight to heare the happines of our friends, or Country; at which he were worthy to be laughed at, that would laugh; wee ſhall contrarily laugh ſometimes, to finde a matter quite miſtaken, and goe downe the hill agaynſt the byas, in the mouth of ſome ſuch men, as for the reſpect of them, one ſhalbe hartely ſorry, yet he cannot chuſe but laugh; and ſo is rather pained, then delighted with laughter. Yet deny I not, but that they may goewell together, for as in Alexanders pićture vvell ſet out, wee delight without laughter, and in twenty mad Anticks we laugh without delight: ſo in Hercules, painted with his great beard, and furious countenance, in womans attire, ſpinning at Omphaſes commaundement, it breed- eth both delight and laughter. For the repreſenting of ſo ſtrange a power in loue, procureth delight: and the ſcornefulnes of the aëtion, ſtirreth laughter. But I ſpeake to this purpoſe, that all the end of the comicall part, bee not vpon ſuch ſcorneſull matters, as ſtirreth laughter onely: but mixt with it, that delightful teach- ing which is the end of Poeſie. And the great fault euen in that point of laughter, and forbidden plainely by Ariſtotle, is, that they ſtyrre laughter in ſinfull things; which are rather execrable then ridiculous : or in miſerable, which are rather to be pittied than ſcorned. Aſ OR ANOE 7TRAAE, 67 For what is it to make folkes gape at a wretched Beg- ger, or a beggerly Clowne? or againſ?lawe of hoſpitality, to ieſt at ſtraungers, becauſe they ſpeake not Engliſh ſo well as wee doe? what do we learne, fith it is certaine (ZWil habet info/ix paupertas durius in ſe,) Quam quod ridiculos /loſſlines facif. But rather a buſy louing Courtier, a hartles threatening Thraſo. A ſelſe-wiſe-ſeeming ſchoolemaſter. A awry- transformed Traueller. Theſe, if we ſawe walke in ſlage names, which wee play naturally, therein were de- lightfull laughter, and teaching delightfulnes: as in the other, the Tragedies of Buchanan, doe iuſtly bring forth a diuine admiration. But I haue lauiſhed out too many wordes of this play matter. I doe it becauſe as they are excelling parts of Poeſie, ſo is there none ſo much vſed in England, and none can be more pitti- fully abuſed. VVhich like an vnmannerly Daughter, ſhewing a bad education, cauſeth her mother Poeſies honeſty, to bee called in queſtion. Other ſorts of Poetry almoſt haue we none, but that Lyricall kind of Songs and Sonnets: which, Lord, if he gaue vs ſo good mindes, how well it might be imployed, and with howe heauenly fruite, both priuate and publique, in ſinging the prayſes of the immortall beauty: the immortall goodnes of that God, who gyueth vs hands to write, and wits to conceiue, of which we might well want words, but neuer matter, of which, we could turne our eies to nothing, but we ſhould euer haue new budding occaſions. But truely many of ſuch writings, as come vnder the banner of vnreſiſtable loue, if I were a Miſtres, would neuer perſwade mee they were in loue: ſo coldely they apply fiery ſpeeches, as men that had rather red Louers writings; and ſo caught vp certaine ſwelling phraſes, which hang together, like a man which once tolde mee, the winde was at North, VVeſt, and by South, becauſe he would be ſure to name windes enovve: then that in truth they feele thoſe paſsions, which eaſily (as I think) may be bewrayed, by that ſame forciblenes, or Energia, (as the Greekes cal it) of the Ó8 AAV AA’O, OG/E writer. Butletthi beea ſufficient, though ſhort note, that wee miſſe the right vſe of the materiall point of Poeſie. Now, for the out-ſide of it, which is words, or (as I may tearme it) /JičZion, it is euen well worſe. So is that honny-flowing Matron Eloquence, apparelled, or rather diſguiſed, in a Curtizan-like painted aſſedtation : one time with ſo farre ſette words, they may ſeeme Monſters: but muſt ſeeme ſtraungers to any poore Engliſh man. Another tyme, with courſing of a Let- ter, as if they were bound to followe the method of a Dićtionary : an other tyme, with figures and flowers, extreamelie winter-ſtarued. But I would this fault were only peculier to Verſifiers, and had not as large poſſeſſion among Proſe-printers; and, (which is to be meruailed) among many Schollers; and, (which is to be pittied) among ſome Preachers. Truly I could wiſh, if at leaſt I might be so bold, to wiſh in a thing beyond the reach of my capacity, the diligent imita- tors of Zhullie, and ZXemo/hemes, (moſt worthy to be imitated) did not ſo much keep, AWizolian Paper-bookes of their figures and phraſes, as by attentiue tranſlation (as it were) deuoure them whole, and make them wholly theirs : For nowe they caſt Sugar and Spice, vpon euery diſh that is ſerued to the table ; Like thoſe Indians, not content to weare eare-rings at the fit and naturall place of the eares, but they will thruſt Iewels through their noſe, and lippes becauſe they will be ſure to be fine. Tullie, when he was to driue out Cate/ine, as it were with a Thunder-bolt of eloquence, often vſed that figure of repitition, Viuit viuit 2 amo Senatum venuţ &c. Indeed, inflamed with a well-grounded rage, hee would haue his words (as it were) double out of his mouth : and ſo doe that artificially, which we ſee men doe in choller naturally. And wee, hauing noted the grace of thoſe words, hale them in ſometime to a familier Epiſtle, when it were to too much choller to be chollerick. Fow for fimilitudes, in certaine printed diſcourſes, I thinke all Herbariſts, all ſtories of Beaſts, Toules, and Fiſhes, are rifled Vp, that they come in Z, O/8 PO/E 7/ē/A. 69 multitudes, to waite vpon any of our conceits; which certainly is as abſurd a ſurfet to the eares, as is poſsible for the force of a ſimilitude, not being to prooue any thing to a contrary Diſputer, but onely to explane to a willing hearer, when that is done, the reſt is a moſt tedious pratling : rather ouer-ſwaying the memory from the purpoſe whereto they were applyed, then any whit informing the iudgement, already eyther ſatis- fied, or by ſimilitudes not to be ſatiſ-fied. For my part, I doe not doubt, when Antonius and Craffids, the great forefathers of Cicero in eloquence, the one (as Cicero teſtifieth of them) pretended not to know Arte, the other, not to ſet by it : becauſe with a playne ſenſiblenes, they mightwincreditof popular eares; which credit, is theneereſt ſtep to perſwaſion: which perſwaſion, is the chiefe marke of Oratory; I doe not doubt (I ſay) but that they vſed theſe tracks very ſparingly, which who doth generally vſe, any man may ſee doth daunce to his owne muſick : and ſo be noted by the audience, more careful to ſpeake curiouſly, then to ſpeake truly Vndoubtedly, (at leaſt to my opinion vndoubtedly,) I haue found in diuers ſmally learned Courtiers, a more ſounde ſtile, then in some profeſſors of learning: of which I can geſſe no other cauſe, but that the Courtier following that which by practiſe hee findeth fitteſt to nature, there- in, (though he know it not,) doth according to Art, though not by Art: where the other, vſing Art to shew Art, and not to hide Art, (as in theſe caſes he ſhould doe) flyeth from nature, and indeede abuſeth Art. But what? me thinkes I deſerue to be pounded, for ſtraying from Poetrie to Oratorie: but both haue ſuch an affinity in this wordiſh conſideration, that I thinke this digreſsion, will make my meaning receiue the fuller vnderſtanding: which is not to take vpon me to teach Poets hovve they ſhould doe, but onely finding my ſelfe ſick among the reſt, to ſhewe ſome one ol two ſpots of the common infection, growne among the moſt part of VWriters : that acknowledging our ſelues ſomewhat awry, we may bend to the right vſe bgth of © º tº e © e © tº e © 70 AAW APOZOG/E matter and manner; whereto our language gyueth vs great occaſion, beeing indeed capable of any excellent exerciſing of it. I know, ſome will ſay it is a mingled language. And why not ſo much the better, taking the beſt of both the other? Another will ſay it wanteth Grammer. Nay truly, it hath that prayſe, that it wanteth not Grammer: for Grammer it might haue, but it needes it not ; beeing so eaſie of it ſelfe, and ſo voyd of thoſe cumberſome differences of Caſes, Genders, Moodes, and Tenſes, which I thinke was a peece of the Tower of Babiſons curſe, that a man ſhould be put to ſchoole to learne his mother-tongue. But for the vttering ſweetly, and properly the conceits of the minde, which is the end of ſpeech, that hath it equally with any other tongue in the world: and is parti- culerly happy, in compoſitions of two or three words together, neere the Greeke, farbeyond the Latine: which is one of the greateſt beauties can be in a language. Now, of verſifying there are two ſorts, the one Auncient, the other Moderne : the Auncient marked the quantitie of each filable, and according to that, framed his verſe : the Moderne, obſeruing onely number, (with ſome regarde of the accent,) the chiefe life of it, ſtandeth in that lyke ſounding of the words, which wee call Ryme. VWhether of theſe be the moſt excellent, would beare many ſpeeches. The Auncient, (no doubt) more fit for Muſick, both words and tune obſeruing quantity, and more fit liuely to expreſſe diuers paſsions, by the low and lofty ſounde of the well-weyed filable The latter likewiſe, with hys Ryme, ſtriketh a certaine muſick to the eare : and in fine, fith it dooth delight, though by another way, it obtaines the ſame purpoſe: there beeing in eyther ſweetnes, and wanting in neither maieſtie. Truely the Engliſh, before any other vulgar language I know, is fit for both ſorts: for, for the Ancient, the Italian is ſo full of Vowels, that it muſt euer be cumbred with Aliſons. The Dutch, ſo of the other ſide with Conſo- mants, that they cannot yeeld the ſvveet ſlyding, fit for * AWOA’-AOZ 7/2/E. 71 a Verſe. The French, in his whole language, hath not one word, that hath his accent in the laſt filable, ſauing two, called Antepenultima, and little more hath the Spaniſh: and therefore, very graceleſly may they vſe Z)ač7iles. The Engliſh is ſubject to none of theſe defects. Nowe, for the ryme, though wee doe not obſerue quantity, yet wee obſerue the accent very preciſely : which other languages, eyfher cannot doe, or will not doe ſo abſolutely. That Uaſura, or breathing place in the middeſt of the verſe, neither Italian nor Spaniſh haue, the French, and we, neuer almoſt fayle of. Laſtly, euen the very ryme it ſelfe, the Italian cannot put in the laſt filable, by the French named the Mas- culine ryme, but ſtill in the next to the laſt, which the French call the Female; or the next before that, which the Italians terme Sarucciola. The example of the former, is Buono, Suono, of the Sdrucciola, Femina, Semina. The French, of the other ſide, hath both the Male, as Bowl, Son, and the Female, as Plaiſe, Zaiſe. But the Sarucciola, hee hath not: where the Engliſh hath all three, as ZXue, Zºue, Father, Æather, Motion, Potion; with much more which might be ſayd, but that Ifinde already, the triflingnes of this diſcourſe, is much too much en- larged. So thatfiththeeuer-praiſe-worthy Poeſie, is full of vertue-breeding delightfulnes, and voyde of no gyfte, that ought to be in the noble name of learning: fith the blames laid againſt it, are either falſe, or feeble: fith the cauſe why it is not eſteemed in Englande, is the fault of Poet-apes, not Poets: fith laſtly, our tongue is moſt fit to honor Poeſie, and to bee honored by Poeſie, I coniure you all, that haue had the euill lucke to reade this incke-waſting toy of mine, euen in the name of the nyne Muſes, no more to ſcorne the ſacred miſteries of Poeſie : no more to laugh at the name of Poets, as though they were next inheritours to Fooles: no more to ieſt at the reuerent title of a Rymer: but to beleeue with Ariſtotle, that they were the auncient Treaſurers, of the Graecians Diuinity. To beleeue with Benbus, that they were firſt bligers . © © º © º © tº º © Q 72 AAW AA’OZOGAE FOR A2OAZ / R/E. in of all ciuilitie. To beleeue with Scaliger, that no Philoſophers precepts can ſooner make you an honeſt man, then the reading of Virgi/Z. To beleeue with Clauſerus, the Tranſlator of Cornutus, that it pleaſed the heauenly Deitie, by Heſiod and Homer, vinder the vayle of fables, to giue vs all knowledge, Logick, Rethorick, Philoſophy, naturall, and morall; and Quid non P To beleeue with me, that there are many miſteries contained in Poetrie, which of purpoſe were written darkely, leaſt by prophane wits, it ſhould bee abuſed. To beleeue with Zandin, that they are ſobeloued of the Gods, that whatſoeuer they write, proceeds of a diuine fury. Laſtly, to beleeue themſelues, when they tell you they will make you immortall, by their verſes. Thus doing, your name ſhal floriſh in the Printers ſhoppes; thus doing, you ſhall bee of kinne to many a poeticall Preface ; thus doing, you ſhall be moſt fayre, moſt ritch, moſt wiſe, moſt all, you ſhall dwell vpon Superlatiues. Thus dooing, though you be Ziber- fino patre natus, you ſhall ſuddenly grow Hercules proles: Si quid mea carmina Żoffuní. Thus doing, your soule ſhal be placed with ZXantes Aeatrix, or Virgi's Anchiſes. But if, (fie of ſuch a but) you be borne fo neere the dull making Cataphrač7 of ZViſus, that you cannot heare the Plannet-like Muſick of Poetrie, if you haue ſo earth-creeping a mind, that it cannot lift it ſelfe vp, to looke to the ſky of Poetry: or rather, by a certaine ruſticall diſdaine, will become ſuch a Mome, as to be a Momus of Poetry: then, though I will not wiſh vnto you, the Affes eares of Midas, nor to bee driuen by a Poets verſes, (as Aubonax was) to hang himſelfe, nor to be rimed to death, as is ſayd to be doone in Ireland: yet thus much curſe I muſt ſend you, in the behalfe of all Poets, that while you liue, you liue in loue, and neuer get fauour, for lacking ſkill of a Sonnet: and when you die, your memory die from the earth, for want of an Apitaph. f Čnglish geprints. CAREFULLY EDITED BY ED WA R D A RB F. R. Associate, King's College, London, F.R. G.S., &c. 3&tabg. 1. JOHN MILTON. (1) A degree of Starre-Chamber, concerning Printing, made the eleuenth day of July last past. London, 1637. (2) An Order of the Lords and Commons assembled in Parliament for the regulating of Printing, &c. London, 14 June, 1643. (3) AREOPAGITICA; A speech of Mr. John Milton for the liberty of Vnlicenc'd Printing, to the Parlament of England. London [24 November], 1644. Sixpence. 2. HUGH LATIMER, Bp. of Worcester. SERMON ON THE PLOUGHTERS. A notable Sermon of ye reuerende father Master Hughe Latimer, whiche he preached in ye Shrouds at paules churche in London, on the xviii daye of Januarye. "I The yere of Oure Loorde MDXLiviii. Sixpence. 3. STEPHEN GOSSON, Stud. Oxon. (1) THE SCHOOLE OF ABUSE. Conteining a pleasaunt invective against Poots, Pipers, Plaiers, Jesters, and such like Caterpillers of a Commonwealth; Setting up the Flagge of Defiance to their mischievous exercise, and ouerthrowing their Bulwarkes, by Prophane Writers, Naturall reason, and common experience. A discourse as pleasaunt for gentlemen that fauour learning, as oft. for all that wyll follow vertue. London §. P] 1579. (2) ANAPOLOGIE OF THE SCHOOLE OF ABUSE, against Poets, Pipers, and their Excusers. London, [December P] 1579. Sixpence. 4, Sir PHILIP SIDNEY. AN APOLOGIE FOR POETRIE. Written by the right noble, vertuous, and learned Sir Phillip Sidney, Knight. London, 1595. 5ixpenſe,.. © e e o 'º e te 2 32ngligi; 38tprints—3&eaty. 5, E. WEBBE, Chief Master Gunner, The rare and most VVonderful thinges which Edward Webbe an Englishman borne, hath seene and passed in his troublesome trauailes, in the Citties of Terusalem, Tammasko, Bethelem, and Galely : and in the Landes of Iewrie, Egipt, Gtecia, Russia, and in the land of Prester Iohn. Wherein is set foorth his extreame slauerie sus- tained many yeres togither, in the Gallies and wars of the great Turk against the Landes of Persia, Tartaria, Spaine, and Portugall, with the manner of his release- ment, and comming into Englande in May last. London, 1590. Sixpence. 6. JOHN SELDEN. TADLE TALK: being the Discourses of John Selden Tsq.; or his Sence of various Matters of Weight and High Consequence relating especially to Religion and 'State. London, 1689. One Shilling. 7. ROGER ASCHAM. TOXOI’HILUS. The schole of shooting conteyned ir, twwo bookes. To all Gentlemen and yomen of Englande, pleasaunte for theyr pastime to rede, and profitable 'for theyr use to folow, both in war and peace. ‘Ilondon, 1545. One Shilling. 8. JOSEPH ADDISON. CRITICISM OF MILTON'S PARADISE, LOST. Trom the Spectator: being its Saturday issues between 31 December, 1711, and 3 May, 1712. London. One Shilling 9. JOHN LILLY. (1) TEUPHUES. THE ANATOMY OF TVIT. Verio pleasaunt for all Gentlemen to read, and most necessarie to remember. . Wherein are contained the delightes that "Wit followeth in his youth by the pleasantnesse of loue, and the happinesse he reapeth in age, by the perfectnesse of Wisedome. London, 1579. (2) EUPHUES AND HIS ENGLAND. Containing his voyage and aduentures, myxed with sundry pretie discourses of honest Loue, the Discription of the Coun- trey, the Court, and the manners of that Isle. Delightful to be read, and nothing hurtfull to be regarded: wher-in there is Small offence by lightnesse giuen to the wise, and lesso occasion of loosenes proffered to the wanton. Londºn, 1580. Four Shillings. [Oct. 1. 3:ngligi; 38tprints—in 33rtparation, 3 Io. GEORGE VILLIERS, Second Duke of Buckingham. THE REIHEARSAL. As it was Acted at the Theatre Royal. London, 1672. With the readings of subsequent editions up to the author's death, and the passages parodied. One Shilling. [Nov. 1 II. GEORGE GASCOIG NE, Esquire. (1) A Remembravnce of the wel imployed life, and godly end of George Gaskoigne, Esquire, who deceassed at Stalmford in Lincoln shire, the 7 of October 1577. The reporte of GEOR WHETSTONs, Gent an eye witnes of his Godly and charitable End in this world. London 1577. (2) Certayne notes of Instruction concerning the making of verse or ryme in English, vvritten at the request of Master Edouardo Donati. 1575. (3) THE STEELE GLAS. A Satyre compiled by George Gasscoigne Esquire [Written between April 1575 and April 1576]. Togither with (4) THE COMPLAYNT OF PHYLOMENE. An Elegye compyled by George Gasscoigne Esquire [between April 1562 and 3rd April 1576.], London 1576. One Shilling. [Nov. 15. 12. JOHN EARLE, successively Bishop of Worcester and Salisbury. MICRO-COSMOGRAPHIE. or, a Peece of the World discovered, in Essayes and Characters. London 1628. With the additions in subsequent editions during the Author's life time. One Shilling. [Dec. 1 Copies will be sent post free by the Publishers on the receipt of Seven stamps for Sixpenny copies; Tourteen Stamps for Shilling copics; Fifty-four stamps for Euphues. Uncut copies can be had, at the same price. It will be convenient, if they are ordered in advance. Handsome cases, in best roan and cloth, Roxburghe style, to contain six of the ‘Teprints,’ are now ready. One Shilling each ; post free, Fourteen stamps. ALEXANDER MURRAY & SQN, 30, Queen Square, London, W.C.; ; ; 4. (Engligi; 33rprintz. CHIEFLY IN SIXPENNY AND SHILLING VOLUMES. THE ‘English Reprints’ have proved a greater success than I anticipated. More copies of the several works issued have been already sold in the open market, than have been produced, in the same time, by any Printing Club, by subscription. I am thereby encouraged to go on with the series, and I trust to bring out, during the remainder of the year, the works announced on pages 1 to 3: so that the first year's issue will contain specimens of 16th Cent. Ascham, Bp. Latimer, Gascoigne, Gosson, Lilly, E. Webbe, and Sir Philip Sidney. e to º e e º 17th Cent. Bp. Earle, Milton, Williers, Duke of Buckingham, and Selden. 4. 18th Cent. Addison. . ſº º o º o © gº ſº . 1–12 If therefore any go about ignorant of thus much of our literature, they only will be to blame: for it seems impossible to reprint these works cheaper. Strange to say, their cheapness militates at present against their universal sale: but this obstacle will doubtless melt away, as the series become more known. As nothing can foster more the fresh and increasing general study in our language and literature, than the free circulation throughout the country, of cheap as well as accurate texts; the ‘English Reprints' will continue to be issued separately, at the general prices originally announcod. The ‘English Reprints’ being thus current, all can now most readily avail themselves of the capabilities of English, as a gymnasium of intellect, an instrument of culture; or passing within the Treasure-house of the language, possess themselves of the stored-up precious wealth of thought and fact, the accumulation therein of century after century. The Areopagitica is already read in King's College and other schools: other suitable texts will doubtless be similarly utilized. º I desire to call attention to Euphues. It was last published in 1636. The present impression will contain the two parts, originally issued sepa- £ately in 1579 and 1580; will be printed from copies supposed to be unique; and will form a volume of between 400 and 500 pages. This work repre- sents a fashion of expression in the Elizabethan age, and gave a word Euphuism to the English language. An acquaintance with it, is essential to an accurate knowledge of the literature of the time of Shakespeare. In conclusion, I tender my sincere thanks to some for their zealous advocacy of the series: and can but hope it may appear to others worthy of like approval and encouragement. 23 April, 1868. 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