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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Discoveries Made Upon Men and Matter, by Ben
+Jonson, Edited by Henry Morley
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Discoveries Made Upon Men and Matter
+       and Some Poems
+
+
+Author: Ben Jonson
+
+Editor: Henry Morley
+
+Release Date: August 14, 2014  [eBook #5134]
+[This file was first posted on May 10, 2002]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND
+MATTER***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1892 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+                       CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+
+
+
+
+                               DISCOVERIES
+                        _MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER_
+                                   AND
+                                SOME POEMS
+
+
+                                    BY
+                               BEN JOHNSON.
+
+                      [Picture: Decorative graphic]
+
+                       CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
+                      _LONDON_, _PARIS & MELBOURNE_.
+                                  1892.
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+BEN JONSON’S “Discoveries” are, as he says in the few Latin words
+prefixed to them, “A wood—Sylva—of things and thoughts, in Greek ‘ὕλη’”
+[which has for its first meaning material, but is also applied peculiarly
+to kinds of wood, and to a wood], “from the multiplicity and variety of
+the material contained in it.  For, as we are commonly used to call the
+infinite mixed multitude of growing trees a wood, so the ancients gave
+the name of Sylvæ—Timber Trees—to books of theirs in which small works of
+various and diverse matter were promiscuously brought together.”
+
+In this little book we have some of the best thoughts of one of the most
+vigorous minds that ever added to the strength of English literature.
+The songs added are a part of what Ben Jonson called his “Underwoods.”
+
+Ben Jonson was of a north-country family from the Annan district that
+produced Thomas Carlyle.  His father was ruined by religious persecution
+in the reign of Mary, became a preacher in Elizabeth’s reign, and died a
+month before the poet’s birth in 1573.  Ben Jonson, therefore, was about
+nine years younger than Shakespeare, and he survived Shakespeare about
+twenty-one years, dying in August, 1637.  Next to Shakespeare Ben Jonson
+was, in his own different way, the man of most mark in the story of the
+English drama.  His mother, left poor, married again.  Her second husband
+was a bricklayer, or small builder, and they lived for a time near
+Charing Cross in Hartshorn Lane.  Ben Jonson was taught at the parish
+school of St. Martin’s till he was discovered by William Camden, the
+historian.  Camden was then second master in Westminster School.  He
+procured for young Ben an admission into his school, and there laid firm
+foundations for that scholarship which the poet extended afterwards by
+private study until his learning grew to be sworn-brother to his wit.
+
+Ben Jonson began the world poor.  He worked for a very short time in his
+step-father’s business.  He volunteered to the wars in the Low Countries.
+He came home again, and joined the players.  Before the end of
+Elizabeth’s reign he had written three or four plays, in which he showed
+a young and ardent zeal for setting the world to rights, together with
+that high sense of the poet’s calling which put lasting force into his
+work.  He poured contempt on those who frittered life away.  He urged on
+the poetasters and the mincing courtiers, who set their hearts on
+top-knots and affected movements of their lips and legs:—
+
+   “That these vain joys in which their wills consume
+   Such powers of wit and soul as are of force
+   To raise their beings to eternity,
+   May be converted on works fitting men;
+   And for the practice of a forcéd look,
+   An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,
+   Study the native frame of a true heart,
+   An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,
+   And spirit that may conform them actually
+   To God’s high figures, which they have in power.”
+
+Ben Jonson’s genius was producing its best work in the earlier years of
+the reign of James I.  His _Volpone_, the _Silent Woman_, and the
+_Alchemist_ first appeared side by side with some of the ripest works of
+Shakespeare in the years from 1605 to 1610.  In the latter part of
+James’s reign he produced masques for the Court, and turned with distaste
+from the public stage.  When Charles I. became king, Ben Jonson was
+weakened in health by a paralytic stroke.  He returned to the stage for a
+short time through necessity, but found his best friends in the best of
+the young poets of the day.  These looked up to him as their father and
+their guide.  Their own best efforts seemed best to them when they had
+won Ben Jonson’s praise.  They valued above all passing honours man could
+give the words, “My son,” in the old poet’s greeting, which, as they
+said, “sealed them of the tribe of Ben.”
+
+                                                                     H. M.
+
+
+
+
+SYLVA
+
+
+_Rerum et sententiarum quasi Ὕλη dicta a multiplici materia et varietate
+in iis contentá_.  _Quemadmodùm enim vulgò solemus infinitam arborum
+nascentium indiscriminatim multitudinem Sylvam dicere: ità etiam libros
+suos in quibus variæ et diversæ materiæ opuscula temere congesta erant_,
+Sylvas _appellabant antiqui_: Timber-trees.
+
+
+
+
+TIMBER;
+OR,
+DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER,
+AS THEY HAVE FLOWED OUT OF HIS DAILY READINGS,
+OR HAD THEIR REFLUX TO HIS PECULIAR
+NOTION OF THE TIMES.
+
+
+         _Tecum habita_, _ut nôris quam sit tibi curta supellex_ {11}
+
+                                                             PERS. Sat. 4.
+
+_Fortuna_.—Ill fortune never crushed that man whom good fortune deceived
+not.  I therefore have counselled my friends never to trust to her fairer
+side, though she seemed to make peace with them; but to place all things
+she gave them, so as she might ask them again without their trouble, she
+might take them from them, not pull them: to keep always a distance
+between her and themselves.  He knows not his own strength that hath not
+met adversity.  Heaven prepares good men with crosses; but no ill can
+happen to a good man.  Contraries are not mixed.  Yet that which happens
+to any man may to every man.  But it is in his reason, what he accounts
+it and will make it.
+
+_Casus_.—Change into extremity is very frequent and easy.  As when a
+beggar suddenly grows rich, he commonly becomes a prodigal; for, to
+obscure his former obscurity, he puts on riot and excess.
+
+_Consilia_.—No man is so foolish but may give another good counsel
+sometimes; and no man is so wise but may easily err, if he will take no
+others’ counsel but his own.  But very few men are wise by their own
+counsel, or learned by their own teaching.  For he that was only taught
+by himself {12} had a fool to his master.
+
+_Fama_.—A Fame that is wounded to the world would be better cured by
+another’s apology than its own: for few can apply medicines well
+themselves.  Besides, the man that is once hated, both his good and his
+evil deeds oppress him.  He is not easily emergent.
+
+_Negotia_.—In great affairs it is a work of difficulty to please all.
+And ofttimes we lose the occasions of carrying a business well and
+thoroughly by our too much haste.  For passions are spiritual rebels, and
+raise sedition against the understanding.
+
+_Amor patriæ_.—There is a necessity all men should love their country: he
+that professeth the contrary may be delighted with his words, but his
+heart is there.
+
+_Ingenia_.—Natures that are hardened to evil you shall sooner break than
+make straight; they are like poles that are crooked and dry, there is no
+attempting them.
+
+_Applausus_.—We praise the things we hear with much more willingness than
+those we see, because we envy the present and reverence the past;
+thinking ourselves instructed by the one, and overlaid by the other.
+
+_Opinio_.—Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing; settled
+in the imagination, but never arriving at the understanding, there to
+obtain the tincture of reason.  We labour with it more than truth.  There
+is much more holds us than presseth us.  An ill fact is one thing, an ill
+fortune is another; yet both oftentimes sway us alike, by the error of
+our thinking.
+
+_Impostura_.—Many men believe not themselves what they would persuade
+others; and less do the things which they would impose on others; but
+least of all know what they themselves most confidently boast.  Only they
+set the sign of the cross over their outer doors, and sacrifice to their
+gut and their groin in their inner closets.
+
+_Jactura vitæ_.—What a deal of cold business doth a man misspend the
+better part of life in! in scattering compliments, tendering visits,
+gathering and venting news, following feasts and plays, making a little
+winter-love in a dark corner.
+
+Hypocrita.—_Puritanus Hypocrita est Hæreticus_, _quem opinio propriæ
+perspicaciæ_, _quâ sibi videtur_, _cum paucis in Ecclesiâ dogmatibus
+errores quosdam animadvertisse_, _de statu mentis deturbavit: unde sacro
+furore percitus_, _phrenetice pugnat contra magistratus_, _sic ratus
+obedientiam præstare Deo_. {14}
+
+_Mutua auxilia_.—Learning needs rest: sovereignty gives it.  Sovereignty
+needs counsel: learning affords it.  There is such a consociation of
+offices between the prince and whom his favour breeds, that they may help
+to sustain his power as he their knowledge.  It is the greatest part of
+his liberality, his favour; and from whom doth he hear discipline more
+willingly, or the arts discoursed more gladly, than from those whom his
+own bounty and benefits have made able and faithful?
+
+_Cognit. univers_.—In being able to counsel others, a man must be
+furnished with a universal store in himself, to the knowledge of all
+nature—that is, the matter and seed-plot: there are the seats of all
+argument and invention.  But especially you must be cunning in the nature
+of man: there is the variety of things which are as the elements and
+letters, which his art and wisdom must rank and order to the present
+occasion.  For we see not all letters in single words, nor all places in
+particular discourses.  That cause seldom happens wherein a man will use
+all arguments.
+
+_Consiliarii adjunct_.  _Probitas_, _Sapientia_.—The two chief things
+that give a man reputation in counsel are the opinion of his honesty and
+the opinion of his wisdom: the authority of those two will persuade when
+the same counsels uttered by other persons less qualified are of no
+efficacy or working.
+
+_Vita recta_.—Wisdom without honesty is mere craft and cozenage.  And
+therefore the reputation of honesty must first be gotten, which cannot be
+but by living well.  A good life is a main argument.
+
+_Obsequentia_.—_Humanitas_.—_Solicitudo_.—Next a good life, to beget love
+in the persons we counsel, by dissembling our knowledge of ability in
+ourselves, and avoiding all suspicion of arrogance, ascribing all to
+their instruction, as an ambassador to his master, or a subject to his
+sovereign; seasoning all with humanity and sweetness, only expressing
+care and solicitude.  And not to counsel rashly, or on the sudden, but
+with advice and meditation.  (_Dat nox consilium_. {17a})  For many
+foolish things fall from wise men, if they speak in haste or be
+extemporal.  It therefore behoves the giver of counsel to be circumspect;
+especially to beware of those with whom he is not thoroughly acquainted,
+lest any spice of rashness, folly, or self-love appear, which will be
+marked by new persons and men of experience in affairs.
+
+_Modestia_.—_Parrhesia_.—And to the prince, or his superior, to behave
+himself modestly and with respect.  Yet free from flattery or empire.
+Not with insolence or precept; but as the prince were already furnished
+with the parts he should have, especially in affairs of state.  For in
+other things they will more easily suffer themselves to be taught or
+reprehended: they will not willingly contend, but hear, with Alexander,
+the answer the musician gave him: _Absit_, _o rex_, _ut tu meliùs hæc
+scias_, _quàm ego_. {17b}
+
+_Perspicuitas_.—_Elegantia_.—A man should so deliver himself to the
+nature of the subject whereof he speaks, that his hearer may take
+knowledge of his discipline with some delight; and so apparel fair and
+good matter, that the studious of elegancy be not defrauded; redeem arts
+from their rough and braky seats, where they lay hid and overgrown with
+thorns, to a pure, open, and flowery light, where they may take the eye
+and be taken by the hand.
+
+_Natura non effæta_.—I cannot think Nature is so spent and decayed that
+she can bring forth nothing worth her former years.  She is always the
+same, like herself; and when she collects her strength is abler still.
+Men are decayed, and studies: she is not.
+
+_Non nimiùm credendum antiquitati_.—I know nothing can conduce more to
+letters than to examine the writings of the ancients, and not to rest in
+their sole authority, or take all upon trust from them, provided the
+plagues of judging and pronouncing against them be away; such as are
+envy, bitterness, precipitation, impudence, and scurrilous scoffing.  For
+to all the observations of the ancients we have our own experience, which
+if we will use and apply, we have better means to pronounce.  It is true
+they opened the gates, and made the way that went before us, but as
+guides, not commanders: _Non domini nostri_, _sed duces fuêre_. {19a}
+Truth lies open to all; it is no man’s several.  _Patet omnibus veritas_;
+_nondum est occupata_.  _Multum ex illâ_, _etiam futuris relicta est_.
+{19b}
+
+_Dissentire licet_, _sed cum ratione_.—If in some things I dissent from
+others, whose wit, industry, diligence, and judgment, I look up at and
+admire, let me not therefore hear presently of ingratitude and rashness.
+For I thank those that have taught me, and will ever; but yet dare not
+think the scope of their labour and inquiry was to envy their posterity
+what they also could add and find out.
+
+_Non mihi credendum sed veritati_.—If I err, pardon me: _Nulla ars simul
+et inventa est et absoluta_. {19c}  I do not desire to be equal to those
+that went before; but to have my reason examined with theirs, and so much
+faith to be given them, or me, as those shall evict.  I am neither author
+nor fautor of any sect.  I will have no man addict himself to me; but if
+I have anything right, defend it as Truth’s, not mine, save as it
+conduceth to a common good.  It profits not me to have any man fence or
+fight for me, to flourish, or take my side.  Stand for truth, and ’tis
+enough.
+
+_Scientiæ liberales_.—Arts that respect the mind were ever reputed nobler
+than those that serve the body, though we less can be without them, as
+tillage, spinning, weaving, building, &c., without which we could scarce
+sustain life a day.  But these were the works of every hand; the other of
+the brain only, and those the most generous and exalted wits and spirits,
+that cannot rest or acquiesce.  The mind of man is still fed with labour:
+_Opere pascitur_.
+
+_Non vulgi sunt_.—There is a more secret cause, and the power of liberal
+studies lies more hid than that it can be wrought out by profane wits.
+It is not every man’s way to hit.  There are men, I confess, that set the
+carat and value upon things as they love them; but science is not every
+man’s mistress.  It is as great a spite to be praised in the wrong place,
+and by a wrong person, as can be done to a noble nature.
+
+_Honesta ambitio_.—If divers men seek fame or honour by divers ways, so
+both be honest, neither is to be blamed; but they that seek immortality
+are not only worthy of love, but of praise.
+
+_Maritus improbus_.—He hath a delicate wife, a fair fortune, a family to
+go to and be welcome; yet he had rather be drunk with mine host and the
+fiddlers of such a town, than go home.
+
+_Afflictio pia magistra_.—Affliction teacheth a wicked person some time
+to pray: prosperity never.
+
+_Deploratis facilis descensus Averni_.—_The devil take all_.—Many might
+go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would venture
+their industry the right way; but “The devil take all!” quoth he that was
+choked in the mill-dam, with his four last words in his mouth.
+
+_Ægidius cursu superat_.—A cripple in the way out-travels a footman or a
+post out of the way.
+
+_Prodigo nummi nauci_.—Bags of money to a prodigal person are the same
+that cherry-stones are with some boys, and so thrown away.
+
+_Munda et sordida_.—A woman, the more curious she is about her face is
+commonly the more careless about her house.
+
+_Debitum deploratum_.—Of this spilt water there is a little to be
+gathered up: it is a desperate debt.
+
+_Latro sesquipedalis_.—The thief {22} that had a longing at the gallows
+to commit one robbery more before he was hanged.
+
+And like the German lord, when he went out of Newgate into the cart, took
+order to have his arms set up in his last herborough: said was he taken
+and committed upon suspicion of treason, no witness appearing against
+him; but the judges entertained him most civilly, discoursed with him,
+offered him the courtesy of the rack; but he confessed, &c.
+
+_Calumniæ fructus_.—I am beholden to calumny, that she hath so
+endeavoured and taken pains to belie me.  It shall make me set a surer
+guard on myself, and keep a better watch upon my actions.
+
+_Impertinens_.—A tedious person is one a man would leap a steeple from,
+gallop down any steep lull to avoid him; forsake his meat, sleep, nature
+itself, with all her benefits, to shun him.  A mere impertinent; one that
+touched neither heaven nor earth in his discourse.  He opened an entry
+into a fair room, but shut it again presently.  I spoke to him of garlic,
+he answered asparagus; consulted him of marriage, he tells me of hanging,
+as if they went by one and the same destiny.
+
+_Bellum scribentium_.—What a sight it is to see writers committed
+together by the ears for ceremonies, syllables, points, colons, commas,
+hyphens, and the like, fighting as for their fires and their altars; and
+angry that none are frighted at their noises and loud brayings under
+their asses’ skins.
+
+There is hope of getting a fortune without digging in these quarries.
+_Sed meliore (in omne) ingenio animoque quàm fortunâ_, _sum usus_. {23}
+
+“Pingue solum lassat; sed juvat ipse labor.” {24a}
+
+_Differentia inter doctos et sciolos_.—Wits made out their several
+expeditions then for the discovery of truth, to find out great and
+profitable knowledges; had their several instruments for the disquisition
+of arts.  Now there are certain scioli or smatterers that are busy in the
+skirts and outsides of learning, and have scarce anything of solid
+literature to commend them.  They may have some edging or trimming of a
+scholar, a welt or so; but it is no more.
+
+_Impostorum fucus_.—Imposture is a specious thing, yet never worse than
+when it feigns to be best, and to none discovered sooner than the
+simplest.  For truth and goodness are plain and open; but imposture is
+ever ashamed of the light.
+
+_Icunculorum motio_.—A puppet-play must be shadowed and seen in the dark;
+for draw the curtain, _et sordet gesticulatio_. {24b}
+
+_Principes et administri_.—There is a great difference in the
+understanding of some princes, as in the quality of their ministers about
+them.  Some would dress their masters in gold, pearl, and all true jewels
+of majesty; others furnish them with feathers, bells, and ribands, and
+are therefore esteemed the fitter servants.  But they are ever good men
+that must make good the times; if the men be naught, the times will be
+such.  _Finis exspectandus est in unoquoque hominum_; _animali ad
+mutationem promptissmo_. {25a}
+
+_Scitum Hispanicum_.—It is a quick saying with the Spaniards, _Artes
+inter hæredes non dividi_. {25b}  Yet these have inherited their fathers’
+lying, and they brag of it.  He is a narrow-minded man that affects a
+triumph in any glorious study; but to triumph in a lie, and a lie
+themselves have forged, is frontless.  Folly often goes beyond her
+bounds; but Impudence knows none.
+
+_Non nova res livor_.—Envy is no new thing, nor was it born only in our
+times.  The ages past have brought it forth, and the coming ages will.
+So long as there are men fit for it, _quorum odium virtute relictâ
+placet_, it will never be wanting.  It is a barbarous envy, to take from
+those men’s virtues which, because thou canst not arrive at, thou
+impotently despairest to imitate.  Is it a crime in me that I know that
+which others had not yet known but from me? or that I am the author of
+many things which never would have come in thy thought but that I taught
+them?  It is new but a foolish way you have found out, that whom you
+cannot equal or come near in doing, you would destroy or ruin with evil
+speaking; as if you had bound both your wits and natures ’prentices to
+slander, and then came forth the best artificers when you could form the
+foulest calumnies.
+
+_Nil gratius protervo lib_.—Indeed nothing is of more credit or request
+now than a petulant paper, or scoffing verses; and it is but convenient
+to the times and manners we live with, to have then the worst writings
+and studies flourish when the best begin to be despised.  Ill arts begin
+where good end.
+
+_Jam literæ sordent_.—_Pastus hodiern. ingen_.—The time was when men
+would learn and study good things, not envy those that had them.  Then
+men were had in price for learning; now letters only make men vile.  He
+is upbraidingly called a poet, as if it were a contemptible nick-name:
+but the professors, indeed, have made the learning cheap—railing and
+tinkling rhymers, whose writings the vulgar more greedily read, as being
+taken with the scurrility and petulancy of such wits.  He shall not have
+a reader now unless he jeer and lie.  It is the food of men’s natures;
+the diet of the times; gallants cannot sleep else.  The writer must lie
+and the gentle reader rests happy to hear the worthiest works
+misinterpreted, the clearest actions obscured, the innocentest life
+traduced: and in such a licence of lying, a field so fruitful of
+slanders, how can there be matter wanting to his laughter?  Hence comes
+the epidemical infection; for how can they escape the contagion of the
+writings, whom the virulency of the calumnies hath not staved off from
+reading?
+
+_Sed seculi morbus_.—Nothing doth more invite a greedy reader than an
+unlooked-for subject.  And what more unlooked-for than to see a person of
+an unblamed life made ridiculous or odious by the artifice of lying?  But
+it is the disease of the age; and no wonder if the world, growing old,
+begin to be infirm: old age itself is a disease.  It is long since the
+sick world began to dote and talk idly: would she had but doted still!
+but her dotage is now broke forth into a madness, and become a mere
+frenzy.
+
+_Alastoris malitia_.—This Alastor, who hath left nothing unsearched or
+unassailed by his impudent and licentious lying in his aguish writings
+(for he was in his cold quaking fit all the while), what hath he done
+more than a troublesome base cur? barked and made a noise afar off; had a
+fool or two to spit in his mouth, and cherish him with a musty bone?  But
+they are rather enemies of my fame than me, these barkers.
+
+_Mali Choragi fuere_.—It is an art to have so much judgment as to apparel
+a lie well, to give it a good dressing; that though the nakedness would
+show deformed and odious, the suiting of it might draw their readers.
+Some love any strumpet, be she never so shop-like or meretricious, in
+good clothes.  But these, nature could not have formed them better to
+destroy their own testimony and overthrow their calumny.
+
+_Hear-say news_.—That an elephant, in 1630, came hither ambassador from
+the Great Mogul, who could both write and read, and was every day allowed
+twelve cast of bread, twenty quarts of Canary sack, besides nuts and
+almonds the citizens’ wives sent him.  That he had a Spanish boy to his
+interpreter, and his chief negociation was to confer or practise with
+Archy, the principal fool of state, about stealing hence Windsor Castle
+and carrying it away on his back if he can.
+
+_Lingua sapientis_, _potius quâm loquentis_.—A wise tongue should not be
+licentious and wandering; but moved and, as it were, governed with
+certain reins from the heart and bottom of the breast: and it was
+excellently said of that philosopher, that there was a wall or parapet of
+teeth set in our mouth, to restrain the petulancy of our words; that the
+rashness of talking should not only be retarded by the guard and watch of
+our heart, but be fenced in and defended by certain strengths placed in
+the mouth itself, and within the lips.  But you shall see some so abound
+with words, without any seasoning or taste of matter, in so profound a
+security, as while they are speaking, for the most part they confess to
+speak they know not what.
+
+Of the two (if either were to be wished) I would rather have a plain
+downright wisdom, than a foolish and affected eloquence.  For what is so
+furious and Bedlam like as a vain sound of chosen and excellent words,
+without any subject of sentence or science mixed?
+
+_Optanda_.—_Thersites Homeri_.—Whom the disease of talking still once
+possesseth, he can never hold his peace.  Nay, rather than he will not
+discourse he will hire men to hear him.  And so heard, not hearkened
+unto, he comes off most times like a mountebank, that when he hath
+praised his medicines, finds none will take them, or trust him.  He is
+like Homer’s _Thersites_.
+
+Άμετροεπης, ακριτόμυθος; speaking without judgement or measure.
+
+   “Loquax magis, quàm facundus,
+   Satis loquentiæ, sapientiæ parum.{31a}
+   Γλωσσης τοι θησαυρος εν ανθρωποισιν αριστος
+   φειδωλης, πλειστη δε χαρις κατα μετρον ιουσης. {31b}
+   Optimus est homini linguæ thesaurus, et ingens
+   Gratia, quæ parcis mensurat singula verbis.”
+
+_Homeri Ulysses_.—_Demacatus Plutarchi_.—Ulysses, in Homer, is made a
+long-thinking man before he speaks; and Epaminondas is celebrated by
+Pindar to be a man that, though he knew much, yet he spoke but little.
+Demacatus, when on the bench he was long silent and said nothing, one
+asking him if it were folly in him, or want of language, he answered, “A
+fool could never hold his peace.” {31c}  For too much talking is ever the
+index of a fool.
+
+   “Dum tacet indoctus, poterit cordatus haberi;
+   Is morbos animi namque tacendo tegit.” {32a}
+
+Nor is that worthy speech of Zeno the philosopher to be passed over with
+the note of ignorance; who being invited to a feast in Athens, where a
+great prince’s ambassadors were entertained, and was the only person that
+said nothing at the table; one of them with courtesy asked him, “What
+shall we return from thee, Zeno, to the prince our master, if he asks us
+of thee?”  “Nothing,” he replied, “more but that you found an old man in
+Athens that knew to be silent amongst his cups.”  It was near a miracle
+to see an old man silent, since talking is the disease of age; but
+amongst cups makes it fully a wonder.
+
+_Argute dictum_.—It was wittily said upon one that was taken for a great
+and grave man so long as he held his peace, “This man might have been a
+counsellor of state, till he spoke; but having spoken, not the beadle of
+the ward.”  Εχεμυθια. {32b}  Pytag. quàm laudabilis!  γλωσσης προ των
+αλλων κρατει, θεοις επομενος.  Linguam cohibe, præ aliis omnibus, ad
+deorum exemplum. {33a}  Digito compesce labellum. {33b}
+
+_Acutius cernuntur vitia quam virtutes_.—There is almost no man but he
+sees clearlier and sharper the vices in a speaker, than the virtues.  And
+there are many, that with more ease will find fault with what is spoken
+foolishly than can give allowance to that wherein you are wise silently.
+The treasure of a fool is always in his tongue, said the witty comic
+poet; {33c} and it appears not in anything more than in that nation,
+whereof one, when he had got the inheritance of an unlucky old grange,
+would needs sell it; {33d} and to draw buyers proclaimed the virtues of
+it.  Nothing ever thrived on it, saith he.  No owner of it ever died in
+his bed; some hung, some drowned themselves; some were banished, some
+starved; the trees were all blasted; the swine died of the measles, the
+cattle of the murrain, the sheep of the rot; they that stood were ragged,
+bare, and bald as your hand; nothing was ever reared there, not a
+duckling, or a goose.  _Hospitium fuerat calamitatis_. {34a}  Was not
+this man like to sell it?
+
+_Vulgi expectatio_.—Expectation of the vulgar is more drawn and held with
+newness than goodness; we see it in fencers, in players, in poets, in
+preachers, in all where fame promiseth anything; so it be new, though
+never so naught and depraved, they run to it, and are taken.  Which
+shews, that the only decay or hurt of the best men’s reputation with the
+people is, their wits have out-lived the people’s palates.  They have
+been too much or too long a feast.
+
+_Claritas patriæ_.—Greatness of name in the father oft-times helps not
+forth, but overwhelms the son; they stand too near one another.  The
+shadow kills the growth: so much, that we see the grandchild come more
+and oftener to be heir of the first, than doth the second: he dies
+between; the possession is the third’s.
+
+_Eloquentia_.—Eloquence is a great and diverse thing: nor did she yet
+ever favour any man so much as to become wholly his.  He is happy that
+can arrive to any degree of her grace.  Yet there are who prove
+themselves masters of her, and absolute lords; but I believe they may
+mistake their evidence: for it is one thing to be eloquent in the
+schools, or in the hall; another at the bar, or in the pulpit.  There is
+a difference between mooting and pleading; between fencing and fighting.
+To make arguments in my study, and confute them, is easy; where I answer
+myself, not an adversary.  So I can see whole volumes dispatched by the
+umbratical doctors on all sides: but draw these forth into the just
+lists: let them appear _sub dio_, and they are changed with the place,
+like bodies bred in the shade; they cannot suffer the sun or a shower,
+nor bear the open air; they scarce can find themselves, that they were
+wont to domineer so among their auditors: but indeed I would no more
+choose a rhetorician for reigning in a school, than I would a pilot for
+rowing in a pond.
+
+_Amor et odium_.—Love that is ignorant, and hatred, have almost the same
+ends: many foolish lovers wish the same to their friends, which their
+enemies would: as to wish a friend banished, that they might accompany
+him in exile; or some great want, that they might relieve him; or a
+disease, that they might sit by him.  They make a causeway to their
+country by injury, as if it were not honester to do nothing than to seek
+a way to do good by a mischief.
+
+_Injuria_.—Injuries do not extinguish courtesies: they only suffer them
+not to appear fair.  For a man that doth me an injury after a courtesy,
+takes not away that courtesy, but defaces it: as he that writes other
+verses upon my verses, takes not away the first letters, but hides them.
+
+_Beneficia_.—Nothing is a courtesy unless it be meant us; and that
+friendly and lovingly.  We owe no thanks to rivers, that they carry our
+boats; or winds, that they be favouring and fill our sails; or meats,
+that they be nourishing.  For these are what they are necessarily.
+Horses carry us, trees shade us, but they know it not.  It is true, some
+men may receive a courtesy and not know it; but never any man received it
+from him that knew it not.  Many men have been cured of diseases by
+accidents; but they were not remedies.  I myself have known one helped of
+an ague by falling into a water; another whipped out of a fever; but no
+man would ever use these for medicines.  It is the mind, and not the
+event, that distinguisheth the courtesy from wrong.  My adversary may
+offend the judge with his pride and impertinences, and I win my cause;
+but he meant it not to me as a courtesy.  I scaped pirates by being
+shipwrecked; was the wreck a benefit therefore?  No; the doing of
+courtesies aright is the mixing of the respects for his own sake and for
+mine.  He that doeth them merely for his own sake is like one that feeds
+his cattle to sell them; he hath his horse well dressed for Smithfield.
+
+_Valor rerum_.—The price of many things is far above what they are bought
+and sold for.  Life and health, which are both inestimable, we have of
+the physician; as learning and knowledge, the true tillage of the mind,
+from our schoolmasters.  But the fees of the one or the salary of the
+other never answer the value of what we received, but served to gratify
+their labours.
+
+_Memoria_.—Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most delicate
+and frail; it is the first of our faculties that age invades.  Seneca,
+the father, the rhetorician, confesseth of himself he had a miraculous
+one, not only to receive but to hold.  I myself could, in my youth, have
+repeated all that ever I had made, and so continued till I was past
+forty; since, it is much decayed in me.  Yet I can repeat whole books
+that I have read, and poems of some selected friends which I have liked
+to charge my memory with.  It was wont to be faithful to me; but shaken
+with age now, and sloth, which weakens the strongest abilities, it may
+perform somewhat, but cannot promise much.  By exercise it is to be made
+better and serviceable.  Whatsoever I pawned with it while I was young
+and a boy, it offers me readily, and without stops; but what I trust to
+it now, or have done of later years, it lays up more negligently, and
+oftentimes loses; so that I receive mine own (though frequently called
+for) as if it were new and borrowed.  Nor do I always find presently from
+it what I seek; but while I am doing another thing, that I laboured for
+will come; and what I sought with trouble will offer itself when I am
+quiet.  Now, in some men I have found it as happy as Nature, who,
+whatsoever they read or pen, they can say without book presently, as if
+they did then write in their mind.  And it is more a wonder in such as
+have a swift style, for their memories are commonly slowest; such as
+torture their writings, and go into council for every word, must needs
+fix somewhat, and make it their own at last, though but through their own
+vexation.
+
+_Comit. suffragia_.—Suffrages in Parliament are numbered, not weighed;
+nor can it be otherwise in those public councils where nothing is so
+unequal as the equality; for there, how odd soever men’s brains or
+wisdoms are, their power is always even and the same.
+
+_Stare à partibus_.—Some actions, be they never so beautiful and
+generous, are often obscured by base and vile misconstructions, either
+out of envy or ill-nature, that judgeth of others as of itself.  Nay, the
+times are so wholly grown to be either partial or malicious, that if he
+be a friend all sits well about him, his very vices shall be virtues; if
+an enemy, or of the contrary faction, nothing is good or tolerable in
+him; insomuch that we care not to discredit and shame our judgments to
+soothe our passions.
+
+_Deus in creaturis_.—Man is read in his face; God in His creatures; not
+as the philosopher, the creature of glory, reads him; but as the divine,
+the servant of humility; yet even he must take care not to be too
+curious.  For to utter truth of God but as he thinks only, may be
+dangerous, who is best known by our not knowing.  Some things of Him, so
+much as He hath revealed or commanded, it is not only lawful but
+necessary for us to know; for therein our ignorance was the first cause
+of our wickedness.
+
+_Veritas proprium hominis_.—Truth is man’s proper good, and the only
+immortal thing was given to our mortality to use.  No good Christian or
+ethnic, if he be honest, can miss it; no statesman or patriot should.
+For without truth all the actions of mankind are craft, malice, or what
+you will, rather than wisdom.  Homer says he hates him worse than
+hell-mouth that utters one thing with his tongue and keeps another in his
+breast.  Which high expression was grounded on divine reason; for a lying
+mouth is a stinking pit, and murders with the contagion it venteth.
+Beside, nothing is lasting that is feigned; it will have another face
+than it had, ere long. {41}  As Euripides saith, “No lie ever grows old.”
+
+_Nullum vitium sine patrocinio_.—It is strange there should be no vice
+without its patronage, that when we have no other excuse we will say, we
+love it, we cannot forsake it.  As if that made it not more a fault.  We
+cannot, because we think we cannot, and we love it because we will defend
+it.  We will rather excuse it than be rid of it.  That we cannot is
+pretended; but that we will not is the true reason.  How many have I
+known that would not have their vices hid? nay, and, to be noted, live
+like Antipodes to others in the same city? never see the sun rise or set
+in so many years, but be as they were watching a corpse by torch-light;
+would not sin the common way, but held that a kind of rusticity; they
+would do it new, or contrary, for the infamy; they were ambitious of
+living backward; and at last arrived at that, as they would love nothing
+but the vices, not the vicious customs.  It was impossible to reform
+these natures; they were dried and hardened in their ill.  They may say
+they desired to leave it, but do not trust them; and they may think they
+desire it, but they may lie for all that; they are a little angry with
+their follies now and then; marry, they come into grace with them again
+quickly.  They will confess they are offended with their manner of living
+like enough; who is not?  When they can put me in security that they are
+more than offended, that they hate it, then I will hearken to them, and
+perhaps believe them; but many now-a-days love and hate their ill
+together.
+
+_De vere argutis_.—I do hear them say often some men are not witty,
+because they are not everywhere witty; than which nothing is more
+foolish.  If an eye or a nose be an excellent part in the face, therefore
+be all eye or nose!  I think the eyebrow, the forehead, the cheek, chin,
+lip, or any part else are as necessary and natural in the place.  But now
+nothing is good that is natural; right and natural language seems to have
+least of the wit in it; that which is writhed and tortured is counted the
+more exquisite.  Cloth of bodkin or tissue must be embroidered; as if no
+face were fair that were not powdered or painted! no beauty to be had but
+in wresting and writhing our own tongue!  Nothing is fashionable till it
+be deformed; and this is to write like a gentleman.  All must be affected
+and preposterous as our gallants’ clothes, sweet-bags, and
+night-dressings, in which you would think our men lay in, like ladies, it
+is so curious.
+
+_Censura de poetis_.—Nothing in our age, I have observed, is more
+preposterous than the running judgments upon poetry and poets; when we
+shall hear those things commended and cried up for the best writings
+which a man would scarce vouchsafe to wrap any wholesome drug in; he
+would never light his tobacco with them.  And those men almost named for
+miracles, who yet are so vile that if a man should go about to examine
+and correct them, he must make all they have done but one blot.  Their
+good is so entangled with their bad as forcibly one must draw on the
+other’s death with it.  A sponge dipped in ink will do all:—
+
+   “—Comitetur Punica librum
+   Spongia.—” {44a}
+
+Et paulò post,
+
+   “Non possunt . . . multæ . . . lituræ
+   . . . una litura potest.”
+
+_Cestius_—_Cicero_—_Heath_—_Taylor_—_Spenser_.—Yet their vices have not
+hurt them; nay, a great many they have profited, for they have been loved
+for nothing else.  And this false opinion grows strong against the best
+men, if once it take root with the ignorant.  Cestius, in his time, was
+preferred to Cicero, so far as the ignorant durst.  They learned him
+without book, and had him often in their mouths; but a man cannot imagine
+that thing so foolish or rude but will find and enjoy an admirer; at
+least a reader or spectator.  The puppets are seen now in despite of the
+players; Heath’s epigrams and the Sculler’s poems have their applause.
+There are never wanting that dare prefer the worst preachers, the worst
+pleaders, the worst poets; not that the better have left to write or
+speak better, but that they that hear them judge worse; _Non illi pejus
+dicunt_, _sed hi corruptius judicant_.  Nay, if it were put to the
+question of the water-rhymer’s works, against Spenser’s, I doubt not but
+they would find more suffrages; because the most favour common vices, out
+of a prerogative the vulgar have to lose their judgments and like that
+which is naught.
+
+Poetry, in this latter age, hath proved but a mean mistress to such as
+have wholly addicted themselves to her, or given their names up to her
+family.  They who have but saluted her on the by, and now and then
+tendered their visits, she hath done much for, and advanced in the way of
+their own professions (both the law and the gospel) beyond all they could
+have hoped or done for themselves without her favour.  Wherein she doth
+emulate the judicious but preposterous bounty of the time’s grandees, who
+accumulate all they can upon the parasite or fresh-man in their
+friendship; but think an old client or honest servant bound by his place
+to write and starve.
+
+Indeed, the multitude commend writers as they do fencers or wrestlers,
+who if they come in robustiously and put for it with a deal of violence
+are received for the braver fellows; when many times their own rudeness
+is a cause of their disgrace, and a slight touch of their adversary gives
+all that boisterous force the foil.  But in these things the unskilful
+are naturally deceived, and judging wholly by the bulk, think rude things
+greater than polished, and scattered more numerous than composed; nor
+think this only to be true in the sordid multitude, but the neater sort
+of our gallants; for all are the multitude, only they differ in clothes,
+not in judgment or understanding.
+
+_De Shakspeare nostrat_.—_Augustus in Hat_.—I remember the players have
+often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, that in his writing
+(whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line.  My answer hath been,
+“Would he had blotted a thousand,” which they thought a malevolent
+speech.  I had not told posterity this but for their ignorance who chose
+that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted; and
+to justify mine own candour, for I loved the man, and do honour his
+memory on this side idolatry as much as any.  He was, indeed, honest, and
+of an open and free nature, had an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and
+gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes
+it was necessary he should be stopped.  “_Sufflaminandus erat_,” {47a} as
+Augustus said of Haterius.  His wit was in his own power; would the rule
+of it had been so, too.  Many times he fell into those things, could not
+escape laughter, as when he said in the person of Cæsar, one speaking to
+him, “Cæsar, thou dost me wrong.”  He replied, “Cæsar did never wrong but
+with just cause;” and such like, which were ridiculous.  But he redeemed
+his vices with his virtues.  There was ever more in him to be praised
+than to be pardoned.
+
+_Ingeniorum discrimina_.—_Not._ 1.—In the difference of wits I have
+observed there are many notes; and it is a little maistry to know them,
+to discern what every nature, every disposition will bear; for before we
+sow our land we should plough it.  There are no fewer forms of minds than
+of bodies amongst us.  The variety is incredible, and therefore we must
+search.  Some are fit to make divines, some poets, some lawyers, some
+physicians; some to be sent to the plough, and trades.
+
+There is no doctrine will do good where nature is wanting.  Some wits are
+swelling and high; others low and still; some hot and fiery; others cold
+and dull; one must have a bridle, the other a spur.
+
+_Not._ 2.—There be some that are forward and bold; and these will do
+every little thing easily.  I mean that is hard by and next them, which
+they will utter unretarded without any shamefastness.  These never
+perform much, but quickly.  They are what they are on the sudden; they
+show presently, like grain that, scattered on the top of the ground,
+shoots up, but takes no root; has a yellow blade, but the ear empty.
+They are wits of good promise at first, but there is an _ingenistitium_;
+{49a} they stand still at sixteen, they get no higher.
+
+_Not._ 3.—You have others that labour only to ostentation; and are ever
+more busy about the colours and surface of a work than in the matter and
+foundation, for that is hid, the other is seen.
+
+_Not._ 4.—Others that in composition are nothing but what is rough and
+broken.  _Quæ per salebras_, _altaque saxa cadunt_. {49b}  And if it
+would come gently, they trouble it of purpose.  They would not have it
+run without rubs, as if that style were more strong and manly that struck
+the ear with a kind of unevenness.  These men err not by chance, but
+knowingly and willingly; they are like men that affect a fashion by
+themselves; have some singularity in a ruff cloak, or hat-band; or their
+beards specially cut to provoke beholders, and set a mark upon
+themselves.  They would be reprehended while they are looked on.  And
+this vice, one that is authority with the rest, loving, delivers over to
+them to be imitated; so that ofttimes the faults which be fell into the
+others seek for.  This is the danger, when vice becomes a precedent.
+
+_Not._ 5.—Others there are that have no composition at all; but a kind of
+tuning and rhyming fall in what they write.  It runs and slides, and only
+makes a sound.  Women’s poets they are called, as you have women’s
+tailors.
+
+   “They write a verse as smooth, as soft as cream,
+   In which there is no torrent, nor scarce stream.”
+
+You may sound these wits and find the depth of them with your middle
+finger.  They are cream-bowl or but puddle-deep.
+
+_Not._ 6.—Some that turn over all books, and are equally searching in all
+papers; that write out of what they presently find or meet, without
+choice.  By which means it happens that what they have discredited and
+impugned in one week, they have before or after extolled the same in
+another.  Such are all the essayists, even their master Montaigne.
+These, in all they write, confess still what books they have read last,
+and therein their own folly so much, that they bring it to the stake raw
+and undigested; not that the place did need it neither, but that they
+thought themselves furnished and would vent it.
+
+_Not._ 7.—Some, again who, after they have got authority, or, which is
+less, opinion, by their writings, to have read much, dare presently to
+feign whole books and authors, and lie safely.  For what never was, will
+not easily be found, not by the most curious.
+
+_Not._ 8.—And some, by a cunning protestation against all reading, and
+false venditation of their own naturals, think to divert the sagacity of
+their readers from themselves, and cool the scent of their own fox-like
+thefts; when yet they are so rank, as a man may find whole pages together
+usurped from one author; their necessities compelling them to read for
+present use, which could not be in many books; and so come forth more
+ridiculously and palpably guilty than those who, because they cannot
+trace, they yet would slander their industry.
+
+_Not._ 9.—But the wretcheder are the obstinate contemners of all helps
+and arts; such as presuming on their own naturals (which, perhaps, are
+excellent), dare deride all diligence, and seem to mock at the terms when
+they understand not the things; thinking that way to get off wittily with
+their ignorance.  These are imitated often by such as are their peers in
+negligence, though they cannot be in nature; and they utter all they can
+think with a kind of violence and indisposition, unexamined, without
+relation either to person, place, or any fitness else; and the more
+wilful and stubborn they are in it the more learned they are esteemed of
+the multitude, through their excellent vice of judgment, who think those
+things the stronger that have no art; as if to break were better than to
+open, or to rend asunder gentler than to loose.
+
+_Not._ 10.—It cannot but come to pass that these men who commonly seek to
+do more than enough may sometimes happen on something that is good and
+great; but very seldom: and when it comes it doth not recompense the rest
+of their ill.  For their jests, and their sentences (which they only and
+ambitiously seek for) stick out, and are more eminent, because all is
+sordid and vile about them; as lights are more discerned in a thick
+darkness than a faint shadow.  Now, because they speak all they can
+(however unfitly), they are thought to have the greater copy; where the
+learned use ever election and a mean, they look back to what they
+intended at first, and make all an even and proportioned body.  The true
+artificer will not run away from Nature as he were afraid of her, or
+depart from life and the likeness of truth, but speak to the capacity of
+his hearers.  And though his language differ from the vulgar somewhat, it
+shall not fly from all humanity, with the Tamerlanes and Tamer-chains of
+the late age, which had nothing in them but the scenical strutting and
+furious vociferation to warrant them to the ignorant gapers.  He knows it
+is his only art so to carry it, as none but artificers perceive it.  In
+the meantime, perhaps, he is called barren, dull, lean, a poor writer, or
+by what contumelious word can come in their cheeks, by these men who,
+without labour, judgment, knowledge, or almost sense, are received or
+preferred before him.  He gratulates them and their fortune.  Another
+age, or juster men, will acknowledge the virtues of his studies, his
+wisdom in dividing, his subtlety in arguing, with what strength he doth
+inspire his readers, with what sweetness he strokes them; in inveighing,
+what sharpness; in jest, what urbanity he uses; how he doth reign in
+men’s affections; how invade and break in upon them, and makes their
+minds like the thing he writes.  Then in his elocution to behold what
+word is proper, which hath ornaments, which height, what is beautifully
+translated, where figures are fit, which gentle, which strong, to show
+the composition manly; and how he hath avoided faint, obscure, obscene,
+sordid, humble, improper, or effeminate phrase; which is not only praised
+of the most, but commended (which is worse), especially for that it is
+naught.
+
+_Ignorantia animæ_.—I know no disease of the soul but ignorance, not of
+the arts and sciences, but of itself; yet relating to those it is a
+pernicious evil, the darkener of man’s life, the disturber of his reason,
+and common confounder of truth, with which a man goes groping in the
+dark, no otherwise than if he were blind.  Great understandings are most
+racked and troubled with it; nay, sometimes they will rather choose to
+die than not to know the things they study for.  Think, then, what an
+evil it is, and what good the contrary.
+
+_Scientia_.—Knowledge is the action of the soul and is perfect without
+the senses, as having the seeds of all science and virtue in itself; but
+not without the service of the senses; by these organs the soul works:
+she is a perpetual agent, prompt and subtle; but often flexible and
+erring, entangling herself like a silkworm, but her reason is a weapon
+with two edges, and cuts through.  In her indagations oft-times new
+scents put her by, and she takes in errors into her by the same conduits
+she doth truths.
+
+_Otium Studiorum_.—Ease and relaxation are profitable to all studies.
+The mind is like a bow, the stronger by being unbent.  But the temper in
+spirits is all, when to command a man’s wit, when to favour it.  I have
+known a man vehement on both sides, that knew no mean, either to intermit
+his studies or call upon them again.  When he hath set himself to writing
+he would join night to day, press upon himself without release, not
+minding it, till he fainted; and when he left off, resolve himself into
+all sports and looseness again, that it was almost a despair to draw him
+to his book; but once got to it, he grew stronger and more earnest by the
+ease.  His whole powers were renewed; he would work out of himself what
+he desired, but with such excess as his study could not be ruled; he knew
+not how to dispose his own abilities, or husband them; he was of that
+immoderate power against himself.  Nor was he only a strong, but an
+absolute speaker and writer; but his subtlety did not show itself; his
+judgment thought that a vice; for the ambush hurts more that is hid.  He
+never forced his language, nor went out of the highway of speaking but
+for some great necessity or apparent profit; for he denied figures to be
+invented for ornament, but for aid; and still thought it an extreme
+madness to bind or wrest that which ought to be right.
+
+_Stili eminentia_.—_Virgil_.—_Tully_.—_Sallust_.—It is no wonder men’s
+eminence appears but in their own way.  Virgil’s felicity left him in
+prose, as Tully’s forsook him in verse.  Sallust’s orations are read in
+the honour of story, yet the most eloquent.  Plato’s speech, which he
+made for Socrates, is neither worthy of the patron nor the person
+defended.  Nay, in the same kind of oratory, and where the matter is one,
+you shall have him that reasons strongly, open negligently; another that
+prepares well, not fit so well.  And this happens not only to brains, but
+to bodies.  One can wrestle well, another run well, a third leap or throw
+the bar, a fourth lift or stop a cart going; each hath his way of
+strength.  So in other creatures—some dogs are for the deer, some for the
+wild boar, some are fox-hounds, some otter-hounds.  Nor are all horses
+for the coach or saddle, some are for the cart and paniers.
+
+_De Claris Oratoribus_.—I have known many excellent men that would speak
+suddenly to the admiration of their hearers, who upon study and
+premeditation have been forsaken by their own wits, and no way answered
+their fame; their eloquence was greater than their reading, and the
+things they uttered better than those they knew; their fortune deserved
+better of them than their care.  For men of present spirits, and of
+greater wits than study, do please more in the things they invent than in
+those they bring.  And I have heard some of them compelled to speak, out
+of necessity, that have so infinitely exceeded themselves, as it was
+better both for them and their auditory that they were so surprised, not
+prepared.  Nor was it safe then to cross them, for their adversary, their
+anger made them more eloquent.  Yet these men I could not but love and
+admire, that they returned to their studies.  They left not diligence (as
+many do) when their rashness prospered; for diligence is a great aid,
+even to an indifferent wit; when we are not contented with the examples
+of our own age, but would know the face of the former.  Indeed, the more
+we confer with the more we profit by, if the persons be chosen.
+
+_Dominus Verulamius_.—One, though he be excellent and the chief, is not
+to be imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author;
+likeness is always on this side truth.  Yet there happened in my time one
+noble speaker who was full of gravity in his speaking; his language
+(where he could spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious.  No man
+ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less
+emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered.  No member of his speech
+but consisted of his own graces.  His hearers could not cough, or look
+aside from him, without loss.  He commanded where he spoke, and had his
+judges angry and pleased at his devotion.  No man had their affections
+more in his power.  The fear of every man that heard him was lest he
+should make an end.
+
+_Scriptorum catalogus_. {59a}  Cicero is said to be the only wit that the
+people of Rome had equalled to their empire.  _Ingenium par imperio_.  We
+have had many, and in their several ages (to take in but the former
+_seculum_) Sir Thomas More, the elder Wiat, Henry Earl of Surrey,
+Chaloner, Smith, Eliot, B. Gardiner, were for their times admirable; and
+the more, because they began eloquence with us.  Sir Nicolas Bacon was
+singular, and almost alone, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth’s time.
+Sir Philip Sidney and Mr. Hooker (in different matter) grew great masters
+of wit and language, and in whom all vigour of invention and strength of
+judgment met.  The Earl of Essex, noble and high; and Sir Walter Raleigh,
+not to be contemned, either for judgment or style.  Sir Henry Savile,
+grave, and truly lettered; Sir Edwin Sandys, excellent in both; Lord
+Egerton, the Chancellor, a grave and great orator, and best when he was
+provoked; but his learned and able (though unfortunate) successor is he
+who hath filled up all numbers, and performed that in our tongue which
+may be compared or preferred either to insolent Greece or haughty Rome.
+In short, within his view, and about his times, were all the wits born
+that could honour a language or help study.  Now things daily fall, wits
+grow downward, and eloquence grows backward; so that he may be named and
+stand as the mark and ακμη of our language.
+
+_De augmentis scientiarum_.—_Julius Cæsar_.—_Lord St. Alban_.—I have ever
+observed it to have been the office of a wise patriot, among the greatest
+affairs of the State, to take care of the commonwealth of learning.  For
+schools, they are the seminaries of State; and nothing is worthier the
+study of a statesman than that part of the republic which we call the
+advancement of letters.  Witness the care of Julius Cæsar, who, in the
+heat of the civil war, writ his books of Analogy, and dedicated them to
+Tully.  This made the late Lord St. Alban entitle his work _Novum
+Organum_; which, though by the most of superficial men, who cannot get
+beyond the title of nominals, it is not penetrated nor understood, it
+really openeth all defects of learning whatsoever, and is a book
+
+   “Qui longum note scriptori proroget ævum.” {62a}
+
+My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place or
+honours; but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was only
+proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one of the
+greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages.
+In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for
+greatness he could not want.  Neither could I condole in a word or
+syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue, but
+rather help to make it manifest.
+
+_De corruptela morum_.—There cannot be one colour of the mind, another of
+the wit.  If the mind be staid, grave, and composed, the wit is so; that
+vitiated, the other is blown and deflowered.  Do we not see, if the mind
+languish, the members are dull?  Look upon an effeminate person, his very
+gait confesseth him.  If a man be fiery, his motion is so; if angry, it
+is troubled and violent.  So that we may conclude wheresoever manners and
+fashions are corrupted, language is.  It imitates the public riot.  The
+excess of feasts and apparel are the notes of a sick state, and the
+wantonness of language of a sick mind.
+
+_De rebus mundanis_.—If we would consider what our affairs are indeed,
+not what they are called, we should find more evils belonging to us than
+happen to us.  How often doth that which was called a calamity prove the
+beginning and cause of a man’s happiness? and, on the contrary, that
+which happened or came to another with great gratulation and applause,
+how it hath lifted him but a step higher to his ruin? as if he stood
+before where he might fall safely.
+
+_Vulgi mores_.—_Morbus comitialis_.—The vulgar are commonly ill-natured,
+and always grudging against their governors: which makes that a prince
+has more business and trouble with them than ever Hercules had with the
+bull or any other beast; by how much they have more heads than will be
+reined with one bridle.  There was not that variety of beasts in the ark,
+as is of beastly natures in the multitude; especially when they come to
+that iniquity to censure their sovereign’s actions.  Then all the
+counsels are made good or bad by the events; and it falleth out that the
+same facts receive from them the names, now of diligence, now of vanity,
+now of majesty, now of fury; where they ought wholly to hang on his
+mouth, as he to consist of himself, and not others’ counsels.
+
+_Princeps_.—After God, nothing is to be loved of man like the prince; he
+violates Nature that doth it not with his whole heart.  For when he hath
+put on the care of the public good and common safety, I am a wretch, and
+put off man, if I do not reverence and honour him, in whose charge all
+things divine and human are placed.  Do but ask of Nature why all living
+creatures are less delighted with meat and drink that sustains them than
+with venery that wastes them? and she will tell thee, the first respects
+but a private, the other a common good, propagation.
+
+_De eodem_.—_Orpheus’ Hymn_.—He is the arbiter of life and death: when he
+finds no other subject for his mercy, he should spare himself.  All his
+punishments are rather to correct than to destroy.  Why are prayers with
+Orpheus said to be the daughters of Jupiter, but that princes are thereby
+admonished that the petitions of the wretched ought to have more weight
+with them than the laws themselves.
+
+_De opt. Rege Jacobo_.—It was a great accumulation to His Majesty’s
+deserved praise that men might openly visit and pity those whom his
+greatest prisons had at any time received or his laws condemned.
+
+_De Princ. adjunctis_.—_Sed verè prudens haud concipi possit Princeps_,
+_nisi simul et bonus_.—_Lycurgus_.—_Sylla_.—_Lysander_.—_Cyrus_.—Wise is
+rather the attribute of a prince than learned or good.  The learned man
+profits others rather than himself; the good man rather himself than
+others; but the prince commands others, and doth himself.
+
+The wise Lycurgus gave no law but what himself kept.  Sylla and Lysander
+did not so; the one living extremely dissolute himself, enforced
+frugality by the laws; the other permitted those licenses to others which
+himself abstained from.  But the prince’s prudence is his chief art and
+safety.  In his counsels and deliberations he foresees the future times:
+in the equity of his judgment he hath remembrance of the past, and
+knowledge of what is to be done or avoided for the present.  Hence the
+Persians gave out their Cyrus to have been nursed by a bitch, a creature
+to encounter it, as of sagacity to seek out good; showing that wisdom may
+accompany fortitude, or it leaves to be, and puts on the name of
+rashness.
+
+_De malign. studentium_.—There be some men are born only to suck out the
+poison of books: _Habent venenum pro victu_; _imô_, _pro deliciis_. {66a}
+And such are they that only relish the obscene and foul things in poets,
+which makes the profession taxed.  But by whom?  Men that watch for it;
+and, had they not had this hint, are so unjust valuers of letters as they
+think no learning good but what brings in gain.  It shows they themselves
+would never have been of the professions they are but for the profits and
+fees.  But if another learning, well used, can instruct to good life,
+inform manners, no less persuade and lead men than they threaten and
+compel, and have no reward, is it therefore the worst study?  I could
+never think the study of wisdom confined only to the philosopher, or of
+piety to the divine, or of state to the politic; but that he which can
+feign a commonwealth (which is the poet) can govern it with counsels,
+strengthen it with laws, correct it with judgments, inform it with
+religion and morals, is all these.  We do not require in him mere
+elocution, or an excellent faculty in verse, but the exact knowledge of
+all virtues and their contraries, with ability to render the one loved,
+the other hated, by his proper embattling them.  The philosophers did
+insolently, to challenge only to themselves that which the greatest
+generals and gravest counsellors never durst.  For such had rather do
+than promise the best things.
+
+_Controvers. scriptores_.—_More Andabatarum qui clausis oculis
+pugnant_.—Some controverters in divinity are like swaggerers in a tavern
+that catch that which stands next them, the candlestick or pots; turn
+everything into a weapon: ofttimes they fight blindfold, and both beat
+the air.  The one milks a he-goat, the other holds under a sieve.  Their
+arguments are as fluxive as liquor spilt upon a table, which with your
+finger you may drain as you will.  Such controversies or disputations
+(carried with more labour than profit) are odious; where most times the
+truth is lost in the midst or left untouched.  And the fruit of their
+fight is, that they spit one upon another, and are both defiled.  These
+fencers in religion I like not.
+
+_Morbi_.—The body hath certain diseases that are with less evil tolerated
+than removed.  As if to cure a leprosy a man should bathe himself with
+the warm blood of a murdered child, so in the Church some errors may be
+dissimuled with less inconvenience than they can be discovered.
+
+_Jactantia intempestiva_.—Men that talk of their own benefits are not
+believed to talk of them because they have done them; but to have done
+them because they might talk of them.  That which had been great, if
+another had reported it of them, vanisheth, and is nothing, if he that
+did it speak of it.  For men, when they cannot destroy the deed, will yet
+be glad to take advantage of the boasting, and lessen it.
+
+_Adulatio_.—I have seen that poverty makes me do unfit things; but honest
+men should not do them; they should gain otherwise.  Though a man be
+hungry, he should not play the parasite.  That hour wherein I would
+repent me to be honest, there were ways enough open for me to be rich.
+But flattery is a fine pick-lock of tender ears; especially of those whom
+fortune hath borne high upon their wings, that submit their dignity and
+authority to it, by a soothing of themselves.  For, indeed, men could
+never be taken in that abundance with the springes of others’ flattery,
+if they began not there; if they did but remember how much more
+profitable the bitterness of truth were, than all the honey distilling
+from a whorish voice, which is not praise, but poison.  But now it is
+come to that extreme folly, or rather madness, with some, that he that
+flatters them modestly or sparingly is thought to malign them.  If their
+friend consent not to their vices, though he do not contradict them, he
+is nevertheless an enemy.  When they do all things the worst way, even
+then they look for praise.  Nay, they will hire fellows to flatter them
+with suits and suppers, and to prostitute their judgments.  They have
+livery-friends, friends of the dish, and of the spit, that wait their
+turns, as my lord has his feasts and guests.
+
+_De vitâ humanâ_.—I have considered our whole life is like a play:
+wherein every man forgetful of himself, is in travail with expression of
+another.  Nay, we so insist in imitating others, as we cannot when it is
+necessary return to ourselves; like children, that imitate the vices of
+stammerers so long, till at last they become such; and make the habit to
+another nature, as it is never forgotten.
+
+_De piis et probis_.—Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages
+wherein they live and illustrate the times.  God did never let them be
+wanting to the world: as Abel, for an example of innocency, Enoch of
+purity, Noah of trust in God’s mercies, Abraham of faith, and so of the
+rest.  These, sensual men thought mad because they would not be partakers
+or practisers of their madness.  But they, placed high on the top of all
+virtue, looked down on the stage of the world and contemned the play of
+fortune.  For though the most be players, some must be spectators.
+
+_Mores aulici_.—I have discovered that a feigned familiarity in great
+ones is a note of certain usurpation on the less.  For great and popular
+men feign themselves to be servants to others to make those slaves to
+them.  So the fisher provides bait for the trout, roach, dace, &c., that
+they may be food to him.
+
+_Impiorum querela_.—_Augusties_.—_Varus_.—_Tiberius_.—The complaint of
+Caligula was most wicked of the condition of his times, when he said they
+were not famous for any public calamity, as the reign of Augustus was, by
+the defeat of Varus and the legions; and that of Tiberius, by the falling
+of the theatre at Fidenæ; whilst his oblivion was eminent through the
+prosperity of his affairs.  As that other voice of his was worthier a
+headsman than a head when he wished the people of Rome had but one neck.
+But he found when he fell they had many hands.  A tyrant, how great and
+mighty soever he may seem to cowards and sluggards, is but one creature,
+one animal.
+
+_Nobilium ingenia_.—I have marked among the nobility some are so addicted
+to the service of the prince and commonwealth, as they look not for
+spoil; such are to be honoured and loved.  There are others which no
+obligation will fasten on; and they are of two sorts.  The first are such
+as love their own ease; or, out of vice, of nature, or self-direction,
+avoid business and care.  Yet these the prince may use with safety.  The
+other remove themselves upon craft and design, as the architects say,
+with a premeditated thought, to their own rather than their prince’s
+profit.  Such let the prince take heed of, and not doubt to reckon in the
+list of his open enemies.
+
+_Principum. varia_.—_Firmissima verò omnium basis jus hæreditarium
+Principis_.—There is a great variation between him that is raised to the
+sovereignty by the favour of his peers and him that comes to it by the
+suffrage of the people.  The first holds with more difficulty, because he
+hath to do with many that think themselves his equals, and raised him for
+their own greatness and oppression of the rest.  The latter hath no
+upbraiders, but was raised by them that sought to be defended from
+oppression: whose end is both easier and the honester to satisfy.
+Beside, while he hath the people to friend, who are a multitude, he hath
+the less fear of the nobility, who are but few.  Nor let the common
+proverb (of he that builds on the people builds on the dirt) discredit my
+opinion: for that hath only place where an ambitious and private person,
+for some popular end, trusts in them against the public justice and
+magistrate.  There they will leave him.  But when a prince governs them,
+so as they have still need of his administrations (for that is his art),
+he shall ever make and hold them faithful.
+
+_Clementia_.—_Machiavell_.—A prince should exercise his cruelty not by
+himself but by his ministers; so he may save himself and his dignity with
+his people by sacrificing those when he list, saith the great doctor of
+state, Machiavell.  But I say he puts off man and goes into a beast, that
+is cruel.  No virtue is a prince’s own, or becomes him more, than this
+clemency: and no glory is greater than to be able to save with his power.
+Many punishments sometimes, and in some cases, as much discredit a
+prince, as many funerals a physician.  The state of things is secured by
+clemency; severity represseth a few, but irritates more. {74a}  The
+lopping of trees makes the boughs shoot out thicker; and the taking away
+of some kind of enemies increaseth the number.  It is then most gracious
+in a prince to pardon when many about him would make him cruel; to think
+then how much he can save when others tell him how much he can destroy;
+not to consider what the impotence of others hath demolished, but what
+his own greatness can sustain.  These are a prince’s virtues: and they
+that give him other counsels are but the hangman’s factors.
+
+_Clementia tutela optima_.—He that is cruel to halves (saith the said St.
+Nicholas {74b}) loseth no less the opportunity of his cruelty than of his
+benefits: for then to use his cruelty is too late; and to use his favours
+will be interpreted fear and necessity, and so he loseth the thanks.
+Still the counsel is cruelty.  But princes, by hearkening to cruel
+counsels, become in time obnoxious to the authors, their flatterers, and
+ministers; and are brought to that, that when they would, they dare not
+change them; they must go on and defend cruelty with cruelty; they cannot
+alter the habit.  It is then grown necessary, they must be as ill as
+those have made them: and in the end they will grow more hateful to
+themselves than to their subjects.  Whereas, on the contrary, the
+merciful prince is safe in love, not in fear.  He needs no emissaries,
+spies, intelligencers to entrap true subjects.  He fears no libels, no
+treasons.  His people speak what they think, and talk openly what they do
+in secret.  They have nothing in their breasts that they need a cypher
+for.  He is guarded with his own benefits.
+
+_Religio_.  _Palladium Homeri_.—_Euripides_.—The strength of empire is in
+religion.  What else is the Palladium (with Homer) that kept Troy so long
+from sacking?  Nothing more commends the Sovereign to the subject than
+it.  For he that is religious must be merciful and just necessarily: and
+they are two strong ties upon mankind.  Justice the virtue that innocence
+rejoiceth in.  Yet even that is not always so safe, but it may love to
+stand in the sight of mercy.  For sometimes misfortune is made a crime,
+and then innocence is succoured no less than virtue.  Nay, oftentimes
+virtue is made capital; and through the condition of the times it may
+happen that that may be punished with our praise.  Let no man therefore
+murmur at the actions of the prince, who is placed so far above him.  If
+he offend, he hath his discoverer.  God hath a height beyond him.  But
+where the prince is good, Euripides saith, “God is a guest in a human
+body.”
+
+_Tyranni_.—_Sejanus_.—There is nothing with some princes sacred above
+their majesty, or profane, but what violates their sceptres.  But a
+prince, with such a council, is like the god Terminus, of stone, his own
+landmark, or (as it is in the fable) a crowned lion.  It is dangerous
+offending such a one, who, being angry, knows not how to forgive; that
+cares not to do anything for maintaining or enlarging of empire; kills
+not men or subjects, but destroyeth whole countries, armies, mankind,
+male and female, guilty or not guilty, holy or profane; yea, some that
+have not seen the light.  All is under the law of their spoil and
+licence.  But princes that neglect their proper office thus their fortune
+is oftentimes to draw a Sejanus to be near about them, who at last affect
+to get above them, and put them in a worthy fear of rooting both them out
+and their family.  For no men hate an evil prince more than they that
+helped to make him such.  And none more boastingly weep his ruin than
+they that procured and practised it.  The same path leads to ruin which
+did to rule when men profess a licence in government.  A good king is a
+public servant.
+
+_Illiteratus princeps_.—A prince without letters is a pilot without eyes.
+All his government is groping.  In sovereignty it is a most happy thing
+not to be compelled; but so it is the most miserable not to be
+counselled.  And how can he be counselled that cannot see to read the
+best counsellors (which are books), for they neither flatter us nor hide
+from us?  He may hear, you will say; but how shall he always be sure to
+hear truth, or be counselled the best things, not the sweetest?  They say
+princes learn no art truly but the art of horsemanship.  The reason is
+the brave beast is no flatterer.  He will throw a prince as soon as his
+groom.  Which is an argument that the good counsellors to princes are the
+best instruments of a good age.  For though the prince himself be of a
+most prompt inclination to all virtue, yet the best pilots have needs of
+mariners besides sails, anchor, and other tackle.
+
+_Character principis_.—_Alexander magnus_.—If men did know what shining
+fetters, gilded miseries, and painted happiness thrones and sceptres were
+there would not be so frequent strife about the getting or holding of
+them; there would be more principalities than princes; for a prince is
+the pastor of the people.  He ought to shear, not to flay his sheep; to
+take their fleeces, not their the soul of the commonwealth, and ought to
+cherish it as his own body.  Alexander the Great was wont to say, “He
+hated that gardener that plucked his herbs or flowers up by the roots.”
+A man may milk a beast till the blood come; churn milk and it yieldeth
+butter, but wring the nose and the blood followeth.  He is an ill prince
+that so pulls his subjects’ feathers as he would not have them grow
+again; that makes his exchequer a receipt for the spoils of those he
+governs.  No, let him keep his own, not affect his subjects’; strive
+rather to be called just than powerful.  Not, like the Roman tyrants,
+affect the surnames that grow by human slaughters; neither to seek war in
+peace, nor peace in war, but to observe faith given, though to an enemy.
+Study piety toward the subject; show care to defend him.  Be slow to
+punish in divers cases, but be a sharp and severe revenger of open
+crimes.  Break no decrees or dissolve no orders to slacken the strength
+of laws.  Choose neither magistrates, civil or ecclesiastical, by favour
+or price; but with long disquisition and report of their worth by all
+suffrages.  Sell no honours, nor give them hastily, but bestow them with
+counsel and for reward; if he do, acknowledge it (though late), and mend
+it.  For princes are easy to be deceived; and what wisdom can escape
+where so many court-arts are studied?  But, above all, the prince is to
+remember that when the great day of account comes, which neither
+magistrate nor prince can shun, there will be required of him a reckoning
+for those whom he hath trusted, as for himself, which he must provide.
+And if piety be wanting in the priests, equity in the judges, or the
+magistrates be found rated at a price, what justice or religion is to be
+expected? which are the only two attributes make kings akin to God, and
+is the Delphic sword, both to kill sacrifices and to chastise offenders.
+
+_De gratiosis_.—When a virtuous man is raised, it brings gladness to his
+friends, grief to his enemies, and glory to his posterity.  Nay, his
+honours are a great part of the honour of the times; when by this means
+he is grown to active men an example, to the slothful a spur, to the
+envious a punishment.
+
+_Divites_.—_Heredes ex asse_.  He which is sole heir to many rich men,
+having (besides his father’s and uncle’s) the estates of divers his
+kindred come to him by accession, must needs be richer than father or
+grandfather; so they which are left heirs _ex asse_ of all their
+ancestors’ vices, and by their good husbandry improve the old and daily
+purchase new, must needs be wealthier in vice, and have a greater revenue
+or stock of ill to spend on.
+
+_Fures publici_.—The great thieves of a state are lightly the officers of
+the crown; they hang the less still, play the pikes in the pond, eat whom
+they list.  The net was never spread for the hawk or buzzard that hurt
+us, but the harmless birds; they are good meat:—
+
+   “Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas.” {81a}
+   “Non rete accipitri tenditur, neque milvio.” {81b}
+
+_Lewis XI_.—But they are not always safe though, especially when they
+meet with wise masters.  They can take down all the huff and swelling of
+their looks, and like dexterous auditors place the counter where he shall
+value nothing.  Let them but remember Lewis XI., who to a Clerk of the
+Exchequer that came to be Lord Treasurer, and had (for his device)
+represented himself sitting on fortune’s wheel, told him he might do well
+to fasten it with a good strong nail, lest, turning about, it might bring
+him where he was again.  As indeed it did.
+
+_De bonis et malis_.—_De innocentiâ_.—A good man will avoid the spot of
+any sin.  The very aspersion is grievous, which makes him choose his way
+in his life as he would in his journey.  The ill man rides through all
+confidently; he is coated and booted for it.  The oftener he offends, the
+more openly, and the fouler, the fitter in fashion.  His modesty, like a
+riding-coat, the more it is worn is the less cared for.  It is good
+enough for the dirt still, and the ways he travels in.  An innocent man
+needs no eloquence, his innocence is instead of it, else I had never come
+off so many times from these precipices, whither men’s malice hath
+pursued me.  It is true I have been accused to the lords, to the king,
+and by great ones, but it happened my accusers had not thought of the
+accusation with themselves, and so were driven, for want of crimes, to
+use invention, which was found slander, or too late (being entered so
+fair) to seek starting-holes for their rashness, which were not given
+them.  And then they may think what accusation that was like to prove,
+when they that were the engineers feared to be the authors.  Nor were
+they content to feign things against me, but to urge things, feigned by
+the ignorant, against my profession, which though, from their hired and
+mercenary impudence, I might have passed by as granted to a nation of
+barkers that let out their tongues to lick others’ sores; yet I durst not
+leave myself undefended, having a pair of ears unskilful to hear lies, or
+have those things said of me which I could truly prove of them.  They
+objected making of verses to me, when I could object to most of them,
+their not being able to read them, but as worthy of scorn.  Nay, they
+would offer to urge mine own writings against me, but by pieces (which
+was an excellent way of malice), as if any man’s context might not seem
+dangerous and offensive, if that which was knit to what went before were
+defrauded of his beginning; or that things by themselves uttered might
+not seem subject to calumny, which read entire would appear most free.
+At last they upbraided my poverty: I confess she is my domestic; sober of
+diet, simple of habit, frugal, painful, a good counseller to me, that
+keeps me from cruelty, pride, or other more delicate impertinences, which
+are the nurse-children of riches.  But let them look over all the great
+and monstrous wickednesses, they shall never find those in poor families.
+They are the issue of the wealthy giants and the mighty hunters, whereas
+no great work, or worthy of praise or memory, but came out of poor
+cradles.  It was the ancient poverty that founded commonweals, built
+cities, invented arts, made wholesome laws, armed men against vices,
+rewarded them with their own virtues, and preserved the honour and state
+of nations, till they betrayed themselves to riches.
+
+_Amor nummi_.—Money never made any man rich, but his mind.  He that can
+order himself to the law of Nature is not only without the sense but the
+fear of poverty.  O! but to strike blind the people with our wealth and
+pomp is the thing!  What a wretchedness is this, to thrust all our riches
+outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate nothing but the little,
+vile, and sordid things of the world; not the great, noble, and precious!
+We serve our avarice, and, not content with the good of the earth that is
+offered us, we search and dig for the evil that is hidden.  God offered
+us those things, and placed them at hand, and near us, that He knew were
+profitable for us, but the hurtful He laid deep and hid.  Yet do we seek
+only the things whereby we may perish, and bring them forth, when God and
+Nature hath buried them.  We covet superfluous things, when it were more
+honour for us if we would contemn necessary.  What need hath Nature of
+silver dishes, multitudes of waiters, delicate pages, perfumed napkins?
+She requires meat only, and hunger is not ambitious.  Can we think no
+wealth enough but such a state for which a man may be brought into a
+premunire, begged, proscribed, or poisoned?  O! if a man could restrain
+the fury of his gullet and groin, and think how many fires, how many
+kitchens, cooks, pastures, and ploughed lands; what orchards, stews,
+ponds and parks, coops and garners, he could spare; what velvets,
+tissues, embroideries, laces, he could lack; and then how short and
+uncertain his life is; he were in a better way to happiness than to live
+the emperor of these delights, and be the dictator of fashions; but we
+make ourselves slaves to our pleasures, and we serve fame and ambition,
+which is an equal slavery.  Have not I seen the pomp of a whole kingdom,
+and what a foreign king could bring hither?  Also to make himself gazed
+and wondered at—laid forth, as it were, to the show—and vanish all away
+in a day?  And shall that which could not fill the expectation of few
+hours, entertain and take up our whole lives, when even it appeared as
+superfluous to the possessors as to me that was a spectator?  The bravery
+was shown, it was not possessed; while it boasted itself it perished.  It
+is vile, and a poor thing to place our happiness on these desires.  Say
+we wanted them all.  Famine ends famine.
+
+_De mollibus et effœminatis_.—There is nothing valiant or solid to be
+hoped for from such as are always kempt and perfumed, and every day smell
+of the tailor; the exceedingly curious that are wholly in mending such an
+imperfection in the face, in taking away the morphew in the neck, or
+bleaching their hands at midnight, gumming and bridling their beards, or
+making the waist small, binding it with hoops, while the mind runs at
+waste; too much pickedness is not manly.  Not from those that will jest
+at their own outward imperfections, but hide their ulcers within, their
+pride, lust, envy, ill-nature, with all the art and authority they can.
+These persons are in danger, for whilst they think to justify their
+ignorance by impudence, and their persons by clothes and outward
+ornaments, they use but a commission to deceive themselves: where, if we
+will look with our understanding, and not our senses, we may behold
+virtue and beauty (though covered with rags) in their brightness; and
+vice and deformity so much the fouler, in having all the splendour of
+riches to gild them, or the false light of honour and power to help them.
+Yet this is that wherewith the world is taken, and runs mad to gaze
+on—clothes and titles, the birdlime of fools.
+
+_De stultitiâ_.—What petty things they are we wonder at, like children
+that esteem every trifle, and prefer a fairing before their fathers!
+What difference is between us and them but that we are dearer fools,
+coxcombs at a higher rate?  They are pleased with cockleshells, whistles,
+hobby-horses, and such like; we with statues, marble pillars, pictures,
+gilded roofs, where underneath is lath and lime, perhaps loam.  Yet we
+take pleasure in the lie, and are glad we can cozen ourselves.  Nor is it
+only in our walls and ceilings, but all that we call happiness is mere
+painting and gilt, and all for money.  What a thin membrane of honour
+that is! and how hath all true reputation fallen, since money began to
+have any!  Yet the great herd, the multitude, that in all other things
+are divided, in this alone conspire and agree—to love money.  They wish
+for it, they embrace it, they adore it, while yet it is possessed with
+greater stir and torment than it is gotten.
+
+_De sibi molestis_.—Some men what losses soever they have they make them
+greater, and if they have none, even all that is not gotten is a loss.
+Can there be creatures of more wretched condition than these, that
+continually labour under their own misery and others’ envy?  A man should
+study other things, not to covet, not to fear, not to repent him; to make
+his base such as no tempest shall shake him; to be secure of all opinion,
+and pleasing to himself, even for that wherein he displeaseth others; for
+the worst opinion gotten for doing well, should delight us.  Wouldst not
+thou be just but for fame, thou oughtest to be it with infamy; he that
+would have his virtue published is not the servant of virtue, but glory.
+
+_Periculosa melancholia_.—It is a dangerous thing when men’s minds come
+to sojourn with their affections, and their diseases eat into their
+strength; that when too much desire and greediness of vice hath made the
+body unfit, or unprofitable, it is yet gladded with the sight and
+spectacle of it in others; and for want of ability to be an actor, is
+content to be a witness.  It enjoys the pleasure of sinning in beholding
+others sin, as in dining, drinking, drabbing, &c.  Nay, when it cannot do
+all these, it is offended with his own narrowness, that excludes it from
+the universal delights of mankind, and oftentimes dies of a melancholy,
+that it cannot be vicious enough.
+
+_Falsæ species fugiendæ_.—I am glad when I see any man avoid the infamy
+of a vice; but to shun the vice itself were better.  Till he do that he
+is but like the ’pientice, who, being loth to be spied by his master
+coming forth of Black Lucy’s, went in again; to whom his master cried,
+“The more thou runnest that way to hide thyself, the more thou art in the
+place.”  So are those that keep a tavern all day, that they may not be
+seen at night.  I have known lawyers, divines—yea, great ones—of this
+heresy.
+
+_Decipimur specie_.—There is a greater reverence had of things remote or
+strange to us than of much better if they be nearer and fall under our
+sense.  Men, and almost all sorts of creatures, have their reputation by
+distance.  Rivers, the farther they run, and more from their spring, the
+broader they are, and greater.  And where our original is known, we are
+less the confident; among strangers we trust fortune.  Yet a man may live
+as renowned at home, in his own country, or a private village, as in the
+whole world.  For it is virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a
+man everywhere.  It is only that can naturalise him.  A native, if he be
+vicious, deserves to be a stranger, and cast out of the commonwealth as
+an alien.
+
+_Dejectio Aulic_.—A dejected countenance and mean clothes beget often a
+contempt, but it is with the shallowest creatures; courtiers commonly:
+look up even with them in a new suit, you get above them straight.
+Nothing is more short-lived than pride; it is but while their clothes
+last: stay but while these are worn out, you cannot wish the thing more
+wretched or dejected.
+
+_Poesis_, _et pictura_.—_Plutarch_.  Poetry and picture are arts of a
+like nature, and both are busy about imitation.  It was excellently said
+of Plutarch, poetry was a speaking picture, and picture a mute poesy.
+For they both invent, feign and devise many things, and accommodate all
+they invent to the use and service of Nature.  Yet of the two, the pen is
+more noble than the pencil; for that can speak to the understanding, the
+other but to the sense.  They both behold pleasure and profit as their
+common object; but should abstain from all base pleasures, lest they
+should err from their end, and, while they seek to better men’s minds,
+destroy their manners.  They both are born artificers, not made.  Nature
+is more powerful in them than study.
+
+_De pictura_.—Whosoever loves not picture is injurious to truth and all
+the wisdom of poetry.  Picture is the invention of heaven, the most
+ancient and most akin to Nature.  It is itself a silent work, and always
+of one and the same habit; yet it doth so enter and penetrate the inmost
+affection (being done by an excellent artificer) as sometimes it
+overcomes the power of speech and oratory.  There are divers graces in
+it, so are there in the artificers.  One excels in care, another in
+reason, a third in easiness, a fourth in nature and grace.  Some have
+diligence and comeliness, but they want majesty.  They can express a
+human form in all the graces, sweetness, and elegancy, but, they miss the
+authority.  They can hit nothing but smooth cheeks; they cannot express
+roughness or gravity.  Others aspire to truth so much as they are rather
+lovers of likeness than beauty.  Zeuxis and Parrhasius are said to be
+contemporaries; the first found out the reason of lights and shadows in
+picture, the other more subtlely examined the line.
+
+_De stylo_.—_Pliny_.—In picture light is required no less than shadow; so
+in style, height as well as humbleness.  But beware they be not too
+humble, as Pliny pronounced of Regulus’s writings.  You would think them
+written, not on a child, but by a child.  Many, out of their own obscene
+apprehensions, refuse proper and fit words—as occupy, Nature, and the
+like; so the curious industry in some, of having all alike good, hath
+come nearer a vice than a virtue.
+
+_De progres. picturæ_. {93}  Picture took her feigning from poetry; from
+geometry her rule, compass, lines, proportion, and the whole symmetry.
+Parrhasius was the first won reputation by adding symmetry to picture; he
+added subtlety to the countenance, elegancy to the hair, love-lines to
+the face, and by the public voice of all artificers, deserved honour in
+the outer lines.  Eupompus gave it splendour by numbers and other
+elegancies.  From the optics it drew reasons, by which it considered how
+things placed at distance and afar off should appear less; how above or
+beneath the head should deceive the eye, &c.  So from thence it took
+shadows, recessor, light, and heightnings.  From moral philosophy it took
+the soul, the expression of senses, perturbations, manners, when they
+would paint an angry person, a proud, an inconstant, an ambitious, a
+brave, a magnanimous, a just, a merciful, a compassionate, an humble, a
+dejected, a base, and the like; they made all heightnings bright, all
+shadows dark, all swellings from a plane, all solids from breaking.  See
+where he complains of their painting Chimæras {94} (by the vulgar unaptly
+called grotesque) saying that men who were born truly to study and
+emulate Nature did nothing but make monsters against Nature, which Horace
+so laughed at. {95} The art plastic was moulding in clay, or potter’s
+earth anciently.  This is the parent of statuary, sculpture, graving, and
+picture; cutting in brass and marble, all serve under her.  Socrates
+taught Parrhasius and Clito (two noble statuaries) first to express
+manners by their looks in imagery.  Polygnotus and Aglaophon were
+ancienter.  After them Zeuxis, who was the lawgiver to all painters;
+after, Parrhasius.  They were contemporaries, and lived both about
+Philip’s time, the father of Alexander the Great.  There lived in this
+latter age six famous painters in Italy, who were excellent and emulous
+of the ancients—Raphael de Urbino, Michael Angelo Buonarotti, Titian,
+Antony of Correggio, Sebastian of Venice, Julio Romano, and Andrea
+Sartorio.
+
+_Parasiti ad mensam_.—These are flatterers for their bread, that praise
+all my oraculous lord does or says, be it true or false; invent tales
+that shall please; make baits for his lordship’s ears; and if they be not
+received in what they offer at, they shift a point of the compass, and
+turn their tale, presently tack about, deny what they confessed, and
+confess what they denied; fit their discourse to the persons and
+occasions.  What they snatch up and devour at one table, utter at
+another; and grow suspected of the master, hated of the servants, while
+they inquire, and reprehend, and compound, and dilate business of the
+house they have nothing to do with.  They praise my lord’s wine and the
+sauce he likes; observe the cook and bottle-man; while they stand in my
+lord’s favour, speak for a pension for them, but pound them to dust upon
+my lord’s least distaste, or change of his palate.
+
+How much better is it to be silent, or at least to speak sparingly! for
+it is not enough to speak good, but timely things.  If a man be asked a
+question, to answer; but to repeat the question before he answer is well,
+that he be sure to understand it, to avoid absurdity; for it is less
+dishonour to hear imperfectly than to speak imperfectly.  The ears are
+excused, the understanding is not.  And in things unknown to a man, not
+to give his opinion, lest by the affectation of knowing too much he lose
+the credit he hath, by speaking or knowing the wrong way what he utters.
+Nor seek to get his patron’s favour by embarking himself in the factions
+of the family, to inquire after domestic simulties, their sports or
+affections.  They are an odious and vile kind of creatures, that fly
+about the house all day, and picking up the filth of the house like pies
+or swallows, carry it to their nest (the lord’s ears), and oftentimes
+report the lies they have feigned for what they have seen and heard.
+
+_Imò serviles_.—These are called instruments of grace and power with
+great persons, but they are indeed the organs of their impotency, and
+marks of weakness.  For sufficient lords are able to make these
+discoveries themselves.  Neither will an honourable person inquire who
+eats and drinks together, what that man plays, whom this man loves, with
+whom such a one walks, what discourse they hold, who sleeps with whom.
+They are base and servile natures that busy themselves about these
+disquisitions.  How often have I seen (and worthily) these censors of the
+family undertaken by some honest rustic and cudgelled thriftily!  These
+are commonly the off-scouring and dregs of men that do these things, or
+calumniate others; yet I know not truly which is worse—he that maligns
+all, or that praises all.  There is as a vice in praising, and as
+frequent, as in detracting.
+
+It pleased your lordship of late to ask my opinion touching the education
+of your sons, and especially to the advancement of their studies.  To
+which, though I returned somewhat for the present, which rather
+manifested a will in me than gave any just resolution to the thing
+propounded, I have upon better cogitation called those aids about me,
+both of mind and memory, which shall venture my thoughts clearer, if not
+fuller, to your lordship’s demand.  I confess, my lord, they will seem
+but petty and minute things I shall offer to you, being writ for
+children, and of them.  But studies have their infancy as well as
+creatures.  We see in men even the strongest compositions had their
+beginnings from milk and the cradle; and the wisest tarried sometimes
+about apting their mouths to letters and syllables.  In their education,
+therefore, the care must be the greater had of their beginnings, to know,
+examine, and weigh their natures; which, though they be proner in some
+children to some disciplines, yet are they naturally prompt to taste all
+by degrees, and with change.  For change is a kind of refreshing in
+studies, and infuseth knowledge by way of recreation.  Thence the school
+itself is called a play or game, and all letters are so best taught to
+scholars.  They should not be affrighted or deterred in their entry, but
+drawn on with exercise and emulation.  A youth should not be made to hate
+study before he know the causes to love it, or taste the bitterness
+before the sweet; but called on and allured, entreated and praised—yea,
+when he deserves it not.  For which cause I wish them sent to the best
+school, and a public, which I think the best.  Your lordship, I fear,
+hardly hears of that, as willing to breed them in your eye and at home,
+and doubting their manners may be corrupted abroad.  They are in more
+danger in your own family, among ill servants (allowing they be safe in
+their schoolmaster), than amongst a thousand boys, however immodest.
+Would we did not spoil our own children, and overthrow their manners
+ourselves by too much indulgence!  To breed them at home is to breed them
+in a shade, whereas in a school they have the light and heat of the sun.
+They are used and accustomed to things and men.  When they come forth
+into the common-wealth, they find nothing new, or to seek.  They have
+made their friendships and aids, some to last their age.  They hear what
+is commanded to others as well as themselves; much approved, much
+corrected; all which they bring to their own store and use, and learn as
+much as they hear.  Eloquence would be but a poor thing if we should only
+converse with singulars, speak but man and man together.  Therefore I
+like no private breeding.  I would send them where their industry should
+be daily increased by praise, and that kindled by emulation.  It is a
+good thing to inflame the mind; and though ambition itself be a vice, it
+is often the cause of great virtue.  Give me that wit whom praise
+excites, glory puts on, or disgrace grieves; he is to be nourished with
+ambition, pricked forward with honour, checked with reprehension, and
+never to be suspected of sloth.  Though he be given to play, it is a sign
+of spirit and liveliness, so there be a mean had of their sports and
+relaxations.  And from the rod or ferule I would have them free, as from
+the menace of them; for it is both deformed and servile.
+
+_De stylo_, _et optimo scribendi genere_.—For a man to write well, there
+are required three necessaries—to read the best authors, observe the best
+speakers, and much exercise of his own style; in style to consider what
+ought to be written, and after what manner.  He must first think and
+excogitate his matter, then choose his words, and examine the weight of
+either.  Then take care, in placing and ranking both matter and words,
+that the composition be comely; and to do this with diligence and often.
+No matter how slow the style be at first, so it be laboured and accurate;
+seek the best, and be not glad of the froward conceits, or first words,
+that offer themselves to us; but judge of what we invent, and order what
+we approve.  Repeat often what we have formerly written; which beside
+that it helps the consequence, and makes the juncture better, it quickens
+the heat of imagination, that often cools in the time of setting down,
+and gives it new strength, as if it grew lustier by the going back; as we
+see in the contention of leaping, they jump farthest that fetch their
+race largest; or, as in throwing a dart or javelin, we force back our
+arms to make our loose the stronger.  Yet, if we have a fair gale of
+wind, I forbid not the steering out of our sail, so the favour of the
+gale deceive us not.  For all that we invent doth please us in conception
+of birth, else we would never set it down.  But the safest is to return
+to our judgment, and handle over again those things the easiness of which
+might make them justly suspected.  So did the best writers in their
+beginnings; they imposed upon themselves care and industry; they did
+nothing rashly: they obtained first to write well, and then custom made
+it easy and a habit.  By little and little their matter showed itself to
+them more plentifully; their words answered, their composition followed;
+and all, as in a well-ordered family, presented itself in the place.  So
+that the sum of all is, ready writing makes not good writing, but good
+writing brings on ready writing yet, when we think we have got the
+faculty, it is even then good to resist it, as to give a horse a check
+sometimes with a bit, which doth not so much stop his course as stir his
+mettle.  Again, whether a man’s genius is best able to reach thither, it
+should more and more contend, lift and dilate itself, as men of low
+stature raise themselves on their toes, and so ofttimes get even, if not
+eminent.  Besides, as it is fit for grown and able writers to stand of
+themselves, and work with their own strength, to trust and endeavour by
+their own faculties, so it is fit for the beginner and learner to study
+others and the best.  For the mind and memory are more sharply exercised
+in comprehending another man’s things than our own; and such as accustom
+themselves and are familiar with the best authors shall ever and anon
+find somewhat of them in themselves, and in the expression of their
+minds, even when they feel it not, be able to utter something like
+theirs, which hath an authority above their own.  Nay, sometimes it is
+the reward of a man’s study, the praise of quoting another man fitly; and
+though a man be more prone and able for one kind of writing than another,
+yet he must exercise all.  For as in an instrument, so in style, there
+must be a harmony and consent of parts.
+
+_Præcipiendi modi_.—I take this labour in teaching others, that they
+should not be always to be taught, and I would bring my precepts into
+practice, for rules are ever of less force and value than experiments;
+yet with this purpose, rather to show the right way to those that come
+after, than to detect any that have slipped before by error, and I hope
+it will be more profitable.  For men do more willingly listen, and with
+more favour, to precept, than reprehension.  Among divers opinions of an
+art, and most of them contrary in themselves, it is hard to make
+election; and, therefore, though a man cannot invent new things after so
+many, he may do a welcome work yet to help posterity to judge rightly of
+the old.  But arts and precepts avail nothing, except Nature be
+beneficial and aiding.  And therefore these things are no more written to
+a dull disposition, than rules of husbandry to a soil.  No precepts will
+profit a fool, no more than beauty will the blind, or music the deaf.  As
+we should take care that our style in writing be neither dry nor empty,
+we should look again it be not winding, or wanton with far-fetched
+descriptions; either is a vice.  But that is worse which proceeds out of
+want, than that which riots out of plenty.  The remedy of fruitfulness is
+easy, but no labour will help the contrary; I will like and praise some
+things in a young writer which yet, if he continue in, I cannot but
+justly hate him for the same.  There is a time to be given all things for
+maturity, and that even your country husband-man can teach, who to a
+young plant will not put the pruning-knife, because it seems to fear the
+iron, as not able to admit the scar.  No more would I tell a green writer
+all his faults, lest I should make him grieve and faint, and at last
+despair; for nothing doth more hurt than to make him so afraid of all
+things as he can endeavour nothing.  Therefore youth ought to be
+instructed betimes, and in the best things; for we hold those longest we
+take soonest, as the first scent of a vessel lasts, and the tint the wool
+first receives; therefore a master should temper his own powers, and
+descend to the other’s infirmity.  If you pour a glut of water upon a
+bottle, it receives little of it; but with a funnel, and by degrees, you
+shall fill many of them, and spill little of your own; to their capacity
+they will all receive and be full.  And as it is fit to read the best
+authors to youth first, so let them be of the openest and clearest.
+{106a}  As Livy before Sallust, Sidney before Donne; and beware of
+letting them taste Gower or Chaucer at first, lest, falling too much in
+love with antiquity, and not apprehending the weight, they grow rough and
+barren in language only.  When their judgments are firm, and out of
+danger, let them read both the old and the new; but no less take heed
+that their new flowers and sweetness do not as much corrupt as the
+others’ dryness and squalor, if they choose not carefully.  Spenser, in
+affecting the ancients, writ no language; yet I would have him read for
+his matter, but as Virgil read Ennius.  The reading of Homer and Virgil
+is counselled by Quintilian as the best way of informing youth and
+confirming man.  For, besides that the mind is raised with the height and
+sublimity of such a verse, it takes spirit from the greatness of the
+matter, and is tinctured with the best things.  Tragic and lyric poetry
+is good, too, and comic with the best, if the manners of the reader be
+once in safety.  In the Greek poets, as also in Plautus, we shall see the
+economy and disposition of poems better observed than in Terence; and the
+latter, who thought the sole grace and virtue of their fable the sticking
+in of sentences, as ours do the forcing in of jests.
+
+_Fals. querel. fugiend. Platonis peregrinatio in Italiam_.—We should not
+protect our sloth with the patronage of difficulty.  It is a false
+quarrel against Nature, that she helps understanding but in a few, when
+the most part of mankind are inclined by her thither, if they would take
+the pains; no less than birds to fly, horses to run, &c., which if they
+lose, it is through their own sluggishness, and by that means become her
+prodigies, not her children.  I confess, Nature in children is more
+patient of labour in study than in age; for the sense of the pain, the
+judgment of the labour is absent; they do not measure what they have
+done.  And it is the thought and consideration that affects us more than
+the weariness itself.  Plato was not content with the learning that
+Athens could give him, but sailed into Italy, for Pythagoras’ knowledge:
+and yet not thinking himself sufficiently informed, went into Egypt, to
+the priests, and learned their mysteries.  He laboured, so must we.  Many
+things may be learned together, and performed in one point of time; as
+musicians exercise their memory, their voice, their fingers, and
+sometimes their head and feet at once.  And so a preacher, in the
+invention of matter, election of words, composition of gesture, look,
+pronunciation, motion, useth all these faculties at once: and if we can
+express this variety together, why should not divers studies, at divers
+hours, delight, when the variety is able alone to refresh and repair us?
+As, when a man is weary of writing, to read; and then again of reading,
+to write.  Wherein, howsoever we do many things, yet are we (in a sort)
+still fresh to what we begin; we are recreated with change, as the
+stomach is with meats.  But some will say this variety breeds confusion,
+and makes, that either we lose all, or hold no more than the last.  Why
+do we not then persuade husbandmen that they should not till land, help
+it with marl, lime, and compost? plant hop-gardens, prune trees, look to
+bee-hives, rear sheep, and all other cattle at once?  It is easier to do
+many things and continue, than to do one thing long.
+
+_Præcept. element_.—It is not the passing through these learnings that
+hurts us, but the dwelling and sticking about them.  To descend to those
+extreme anxieties and foolish cavils of grammarians, is able to break a
+wit in pieces, being a work of manifold misery and vainness, to be
+_elementarii senes_.  Yet even letters are, as it were, the bank of
+words, and restore themselves to an author as the pawns of language: but
+talking and eloquence are not the same: to speak, and to speak well, are
+two things.  A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks; and out of the
+observation, knowledge, and the use of things, many writers perplex their
+readers and hearers with mere nonsense.  Their writings need sunshine.
+Pure and neat language I love, yet plain and customary.  A barbarous
+phrase has often made me out of love with a good sense, and doubtful
+writing hath wracked me beyond my patience.  The reason why a poet is
+said that he ought to have all knowledges is, that he should not be
+ignorant of the most, especially of those he will handle.  And indeed,
+when the attaining of them is possible, it were a sluggish and base thing
+to despair; for frequent imitation of anything becomes a habit quickly.
+If a man should prosecute as much as could be said of everything, his
+work would find no end.
+
+_De orationis dignitate_.  ’Εγκυκλοπαιδεία.—_Metaphora_.  Speech is the
+only benefit man hath to express his excellency of mind above other
+creatures.  It is the instrument of society; therefore Mercury, who is
+the president of language, is called _deorum hominumque interpres_.
+{110a}  In all speech, words and sense are as the body and the soul.  The
+sense is as the life and soul of language, without which all words are
+dead.  Sense is wrought out of experience, the knowledge of human life
+and actions, or of the liberal arts, which the Greeks called
+’Εγκυκλοπαιδείαν.  Words are the people’s, yet there is a choice of them
+to be made; for _verborum delectus origo est eloquentiæ_. {111a}  They
+are to be chosen according to the persons we make speak, or the things we
+speak of.  Some are of the camp, some of the council-board, some of the
+shop, some of the sheepcote, some of the pulpit, some of the Bar, &c.
+And herein is seen their elegance and propriety, when we use them fitly
+and draw them forth to their just strength and nature by way of
+translation or metaphor.  But in this translation we must only serve
+necessity (_nam temerè nihil transfertur à prudenti_) {111b} or
+commodity, which is a kind of necessity: that is, when we either
+absolutely want a word to express by, and that is necessity; or when we
+have not so fit a word, and that is commodity; as when we avoid loss by
+it, and escape obsceneness, and gain in the grace and property which
+helps significance.  Metaphors far-fetched hinder to be understood; and
+affected, lose their grace.  Or when the person fetcheth his translations
+from a wrong place as if a privy councillor should at the table take his
+metaphor from a dicing-house, or ordinary, or a vintner’s vault; or a
+justice of peace draw his similitudes from the mathematics, or a divine
+from a bawdy house, or taverns; or a gentleman of Northamptonshire,
+Warwickshire, or the Midland, should fetch all the illustrations to his
+country neighbours from shipping, and tell them of the main-sheet and the
+bowline.  Metaphors are thus many times deformed, as in him that said,
+_Castratam morte Africani rempublicam_; and another, _Stercus curiæ
+Glauciam_, and _Canâ nive conspuit Alpes_.  All attempts that are new in
+this kind, are dangerous, and somewhat hard, before they be softened with
+use.  A man coins not a new word without some peril and less fruit; for
+if it happen to be received, the praise is but moderate; if refused, the
+scorn is assured.  Yet we must adventure; for things at first hard and
+rough are by use made tender and gentle.  It is an honest error that is
+committed, following great chiefs.
+
+_Consuetudo_.—_Perspicuitas_,
+_Venustas_.—_Authoritas_.—_Virgil_.—_Lucretius_.—_Chaucerism_.—
+_Paronomasia_.—Custom is the most certain mistress of language, as the
+public stamp makes the current money.  But we must not be too frequent
+with the mint, every day coining, nor fetch words from the extreme and
+utmost ages; since the chief virtue of a style is perspicuity, and
+nothing so vicious in it as to need an interpreter.  Words borrowed of
+antiquity do lend a kind of majesty to style, and are not without their
+delight sometimes; for they have the authority of years, and out of their
+intermission do win themselves a kind of grace like newness.  But the
+eldest of the present, and newness of the past language, is the best.
+For what was the ancient language, which some men so dote upon, but the
+ancient custom?  Yet when I name custom, I understand not the vulgar
+custom; for that were a precept no less dangerous to language than life,
+if we should speak or live after the manners of the vulgar: but that I
+call custom of speech, which is the consent of the learned; as custom of
+life, which is the consent of the good.  Virgil was most loving of
+antiquity; yet how rarely doth he insert _aquai_ and _pictai_!  Lucretius
+is scabrous and rough in these; he seeks them: as some do Chaucerisms
+with us, which were better expunged and banished.  Some words are to be
+culled out for ornament and colour, as we gather flowers to strew houses
+or make garlands; but they are better when they grow to our style; as in
+a meadow, where, though the mere grass and greenness delight, yet the
+variety of flowers doth heighten and beautify.  Marry, we must not play
+or riot too much with them, as in Paronomasies; nor use too swelling or
+ill-sounding words!  _Quæ per salebras_, _altaque saxa cadunt_. {114a}
+It is true, there is no sound but shall find some lovers, as the
+bitterest confections are grateful to some palates.  Our composition must
+be more accurate in the beginning and end than in the midst, and in the
+end more than in the beginning; for through the midst the stream bears
+us.  And this is attained by custom, more than care of diligence.  We
+must express readily and fully, not profusely.  There is difference
+between a liberal and prodigal hand.  As it is a great point of art, when
+our matter requires it, to enlarge and veer out all sail, so to take it
+in and contract it, is of no less praise, when the argument doth ask it.
+Either of them hath their fitness in the place.  A good man always
+profits by his endeavour, by his help, yea, when he is absent; nay, when
+he is dead, by his example and memory.  So good authors in their style: a
+strict and succinct style is that where you can take away nothing without
+loss, and that loss to be manifest.
+
+_De Stylo_.—_Tracitus_.—_The Laconic_.—_Suetonius_.—_Seneca and
+Fabianus_.—The brief style is that which expresseth much in little; the
+concise style, which expresseth not enough, but leaves somewhat to be
+understood; the abrupt style, which hath many breaches, and doth not seem
+to end, but fall.  The congruent and harmonious fitting of parts in a
+sentence hath almost the fastening and force of knitting and connection;
+as in stones well squared, which will rise strong a great way without
+mortar.
+
+_Periodi_.—_Obscuritas offundit tenebras_.—_Superlatio_.—Periods are
+beautiful when they are not too long; for so they have their strength
+too, as in a pike or javelin.  As we must take the care that our words
+and sense be clear, so if the obscurity happen through the hearer’s or
+reader’s want of understanding, I am not to answer for them, no more than
+for their not listening or marking; I must neither find them ears nor
+mind.  But a man cannot put a word so in sense but something about it
+will illustrate it, if the writer understand himself; for order helps
+much to perspicuity, as confusion hurts.  (_Rectitudo lucem adfert_;
+_obliquitas et circumductio offuscat_. {116a})  We should therefore speak
+what we can the nearest way, so as we keep our gait, not leap; for too
+short may as well be not let into the memory, as too long not kept in.
+Whatsoever loseth the grace and clearness, converts into a riddle; the
+obscurity is marked, but not the value.  That perisheth, and is passed
+by, like the pearl in the fable.  Our style should be like a skein of
+silk, to be carried and found by the right thread, not ravelled and
+perplexed; then all is a knot, a heap.  There are words that do as much
+raise a style as others can depress it.  Superlation and over-muchness
+amplifies; it may be above faith, but never above a mean.  It was
+ridiculous in Cestius, when he said of Alexander:
+
+   “Fremit oceanus, quasi indignetur, quòd terras relinquas.” {117a}
+
+But propitiously from Virgil:
+
+   “Credas innare revulsas
+   Cycladas.” {117b}
+
+He doth not say it was so, but seemed to be so.  Although it be somewhat
+incredible, that is excused before it be spoken.  But there are
+hyperboles which will become one language, that will by no means admit
+another.  As _Eos esse_ P. R. _exercitus_, _qui cælum possint
+perrumpere_, {118a} who would say with us, but a madman?  Therefore we
+must consider in every tongue what is used, what received.  Quintilian
+warns us, that in no kind of translation, or metaphor, or allegory, we
+make a turn from what we began; as if we fetch the original of our
+metaphor from sea and billows, we end not in flames and ashes: it is a
+most foul inconsequence.  Neither must we draw out our allegory too long,
+lest either we make ourselves obscure, or fall into affectation, which is
+childish.  But why do men depart at all from the right and natural ways
+of speaking? sometimes for necessity, when we are driven, or think it
+fitter, to speak that in obscure words, or by circumstance, which uttered
+plainly would offend the hearers.  Or to avoid obsceneness, or sometimes
+for pleasure, and variety, as travellers turn out of the highway, drawn
+either by the commodity of a footpath, or the delicacy or freshness of
+the fields.  And all this is called εσχηματισμενη or figured language.
+
+_Oratio imago animi_.—Language most shows a man: Speak, that I may see
+thee.  It springs out of the most retired and inmost parts of us, and is
+the image of the parent of it, the mind.  No glass renders a man’s form
+or likeness so true as his speech.  Nay, it is likened to a man; and as
+we consider feature and composition in a man, so words in language; in
+the greatness, aptness, sound structure, and harmony of it.
+
+_Structura et statura_, _sublimis_, _humilis_, _pumila_.—Some men are
+tall and big, so some language is high and great.  Then the words are
+chosen, their sound ample, the composition full, the absolution
+plenteous, and poured out, all grave, sinewy, and strong.  Some are
+little and dwarfs; so of speech, it is humble and low, the words poor and
+flat, the members and periods thin and weak, without knitting or number.
+
+_Mediocris plana et placida_.—The middle are of a just stature.  There
+the language is plain and pleasing; even without stopping, round without
+swelling: all well-turned, composed, elegant, and accurate.
+
+_Vitiosa oratio_, _vasta_—_tumens_—_enormis_—_affectata_—_abjecta_.—The
+vicious language is vast and gaping, swelling and irregular: when it
+contends to be high, full of rock, mountain, and pointedness; as it
+affects to be low, it is abject, and creeps, full of bogs and holes.  And
+according to their subject these styles vary, and lose their names: for
+that which is high and lofty, declaring excellent matter, becomes vast
+and tumorous, speaking of petty and inferior things; so that which was
+even and apt in a mean and plain subject, will appear most poor and
+humble in a high argument.  Would you not laugh to meet a great
+councillor of State in a flat cap, with his trunk hose, and a hobbyhorse
+cloak, his gloves under his girdle, and yond haberdasher in a velvet
+gown, furred with sables?  There is a certain latitude in these things,
+by which we find the degrees.
+
+_Figura_.—The next thing to the stature, is the figure and feature in
+language—that is, whether it be round and straight, which consists of
+short and succinct periods, numerous and polished; or square and firm,
+which is to have equal and strong parts everywhere answerable, and
+weighed.
+
+_Cutis sive cortex_.  _Compositio_.—The third is the skin and coat, which
+rests in the well-joining, cementing, and coagmentation of words; whenas
+it is smooth, gentle, and sweet, like a table upon which you may run your
+finger without rubs, and your nail cannot find a joint; not horrid,
+rough, wrinkled, gaping, or chapped: after these, the flesh, blood, and
+bones come in question.
+
+_Carnosa_—_adipata_—_redundans_.—We say it is a fleshy style, when there
+is much periphrasis, and circuit of words; and when with more than
+enough, it grows fat and corpulent: _arvina orationis_, full of suet and
+tallow.  It hath blood and juice when the words are proper and apt, their
+sound sweet, and the phrase neat and picked—_oratio uncta_, _et benè
+pasta_.  But where there is redundancy, both the blood and juice are
+faulty and vicious:—_Redundat sanguine_, _quia multo plus dicit_, _quam
+necesse est_.  Juice in language is somewhat less than blood; for if the
+words be but becoming and signifying, and the sense gentle, there is
+juice; but where that wanteth, the language is thin, flagging, poor,
+starved, scarce covering the bone, and shows like stones in a sack.
+
+_Jejuna_, _macilenta_, _strigosa_.—_Ossea_, _et nervosa_.—Some men, to
+avoid redundancy, run into that; and while they strive to have no ill
+blood or juice, they lose their good.  There be some styles, again, that
+have not less blood, but less flesh and corpulence.  These are bony and
+sinewy; _Ossa habent_, _et nervos_.
+
+_Notæ domini Sti. Albani de doctrin.
+intemper_.—_Dictator_.—_Aristoteles_.—It was well noted by the late Lord
+St. Albans, that the study of words is the first distemper of learning;
+vain matter the second; and a third distemper is deceit, or the likeness
+of truth: imposture held up by credulity.  All these are the cobwebs of
+learning, and to let them grow in us is either sluttish or foolish.
+Nothing is more ridiculous than to make an author a dictator, as the
+schools have done Aristotle.  The damage is infinite knowledge receives
+by it; for to many things a man should owe but a temporary belief, and
+suspension of his own judgment, not an absolute resignation of himself,
+or a perpetual captivity.  Let Aristotle and others have their dues; but
+if we can make farther discoveries of truth and fitness than they, why
+are we envied?  Let us beware, while we strive to add, we do not diminish
+or deface; we may improve, but not augment.  By discrediting falsehood,
+truth grows in request.  We must not go about, like men anguished and
+perplexed, for vicious affectation of praise, but calmly study the
+separation of opinions, find the errors have intervened, awake antiquity,
+call former times into question; but make no parties with the present,
+nor follow any fierce undertakers, mingle no matter of doubtful credit
+with the simplicity of truth, but gently stir the mould about the root of
+the question, and avoid all digladiations, facility of credit, or
+superstitious simplicity, seek the consonancy and concatenation of truth;
+stoop only to point of necessity, and what leads to convenience.  Then
+make exact animadversion where style hath degenerated, where flourished
+and thrived in choiceness of phrase, round and clean composition of
+sentence, sweet falling of the clause, varying an illustration by tropes
+and figures, weight of matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument,
+life of invention, and depth of judgment.  This is _monte potiri_, to get
+the hill; for no perfect discovery can be made upon a flat or a level.
+
+_De optimo scriptore_.—_Cicero_.—Now that I have informed you in the
+knowing of these things, let me lead you by the hand a little farther, in
+the direction of the use, and make you an able writer by practice.  The
+conceits of the mind are pictures of things, and the tongue is the
+interpreter of those pictures.  The order of God’s creatures in
+themselves is not only admirable and glorious, but eloquent: then he who
+could apprehend the consequence of things in their truth, and utter his
+apprehensions as truly, were the best writer or speaker.  Therefore
+Cicero said much, when he said, _Dicere recte nemo potest_, _nisi qui
+prudenter intelligit_. {124a}  The shame of speaking unskilfully were
+small if the tongue only thereby were disgraced; but as the image of a
+king in his seal ill-represented is not so much a blemish to the wax, or
+the signet that sealed it, as to the prince it representeth, so
+disordered speech is not so much injury to the lips that give it forth,
+as to the disproportion and incoherence of things in themselves, so
+negligently expressed.  Neither can his mind be thought to be in tune,
+whose words do jar; nor his reason in frame, whose sentence is
+preposterous; nor his elocution clear and perfect, whose utterance breaks
+itself into fragments and uncertainties.  Were it not a dishonour to a
+mighty prince, to have the majesty of his embassage spoiled by a careless
+ambassador? and is it not as great an indignity, that an excellent
+conceit and capacity, by the indiligence of an idle tongue, should be
+disgraced?  Negligent speech doth not only discredit the person of the
+speaker, but it discrediteth the opinion of his reason and judgment; it
+discrediteth the force and uniformity of the matter and substance.  If it
+be so then in words, which fly and escape censure, and where one good
+phrase begs pardon for many incongruities and faults, how shall he then
+be thought wise whose penning is thin and shallow? how shall you look for
+wit from him whose leisure and head, assisted with the examination of his
+eyes, yield you no life or sharpness in his writing?
+
+_De stylo epistolari_.—_Inventio_.—In writing there is to be regarded the
+invention and the fashion.  For the invention, that ariseth upon your
+business, whereof there can be no rules of more certainty, or precepts of
+better direction given, than conjecture can lay down from the several
+occasions of men’s particular lives and vocations: but sometimes men make
+baseness of kindness: As “I could not satisfy myself till I had
+discharged my remembrance, and charged my letters with commendation to
+you;” or, “My business is no other than to testify my love to you, and to
+put you in mind of my willingness to do you all kind offices;” or, “Sir,
+have you leisure to descend to the remembering of that assurance you have
+long possessed in your servant, and upon your next opportunity make him
+happy with some commands from you?” or the like; that go a-begging for
+some meaning, and labour to be delivered of the great burden of nothing.
+When you have invented, and that your business be matter, and not bare
+form, or mere ceremony, but some earnest, then are you to proceed to the
+ordering of it, and digesting the parts, which is had out of two
+circumstances.  One is the understanding of the persons to whom you are
+to write; the other is the coherence of your sentence; for men’s capacity
+to weigh what will be apprehended with greatest attention or leisure;
+what next regarded and longed for especially, and what last will leave
+satisfaction, and (as it were) the sweetest memorial and belief of all
+that is passed in his understanding whom you write to.  For the
+consequence of sentences, you must be sure that every clause do give the
+cue one to the other, and be bespoken ere it come.  So much for invention
+and order.
+
+_Modus_.—1.  _Brevitas_.—Now for fashion: it consists in four things,
+which are qualities of your style.  The first is brevity; for they must
+not be treatises or discourses (your letters) except it be to learned
+men.  And even among them there is a kind of thrift and saving of words.
+Therefore you are to examine the clearest passages of your understanding,
+and through them to convey the sweetest and most significant words you
+can devise, that you may the easier teach them the readiest way to
+another man’s apprehension, and open their meaning fully, roundly, and
+distinctly, so as the reader may not think a second view cast away upon
+your letter.  And though respect be a part following this, yet now here,
+and still I must remember it, if you write to a man, whose estate and
+sense, as senses, you are familiar with, you may the bolder (to set a
+task to his brain) venture on a knot.  But if to your superior, you are
+bound to measure him in three farther points: first, with interest in
+him; secondly, his capacity in your letters; thirdly, his leisure to
+peruse them.  For your interest or favour with him, you are to be the
+shorter or longer, more familiar or submiss, as he will afford you time.
+For his capacity, you are to be quicker and fuller of those reaches and
+glances of wit or learning, as he is able to entertain them.  For his
+leisure, you are commanded to the greater briefness, as his place is of
+greater discharges and cares.  But with your betters, you are not to put
+riddles of wit, by being too scarce of words; not to cause the trouble of
+making breviates by writing too riotous and wastingly.  Brevity is
+attained in matter by avoiding idle compliments, prefaces, protestations,
+parentheses, superfluous circuit of figures and digressions: in the
+composition, by omitting conjunctions [_not only_, _but also_; _both the
+one and the other_, _whereby it cometh to pass_] and such like idle
+particles, that have no great business in a serious letter but breaking
+of sentences, as oftentimes a short journey is made long by unnessary
+baits.
+
+_Quintilian_.—But, as Quintilian saith, there is a briefness of the parts
+sometimes that makes the whole long: “As I came to the stairs, I took a
+pair of oars, they launched out, rowed apace, I landed at the court gate,
+I paid my fare, went up to the presence, asked for my lord, I was
+admitted.”  All this is but, “I went to the court and spake with my
+lord.”  This is the fault of some Latin writers within these last hundred
+years of my reading, and perhaps Seneca may be appeached of it; I accuse
+him not.
+
+2.  _Perspicuitas_.—The next property of epistolary style is perspicuity,
+and is oftentimes by affectation of some wit ill angled for, or
+ostentation of some hidden terms of art.  Few words they darken speech,
+and so do too many; as well too much light hurteth the eyes, as too
+little; and a long bill of chancery confounds the understanding as much
+as the shortest note; therefore, let not your letters be penned like
+English statutes, and this is obtained.  These vices are eschewed by
+pondering your business well and distinctly concerning yourself, which is
+much furthered by uttering your thoughts, and letting them as well come
+forth to the light and judgment of your own outward senses as to the
+censure of other men’s ears; for that is the reason why many good
+scholars speak but fumblingly; like a rich man, that for want of
+particular note and difference can bring you no certain ware readily out
+of his shop.  Hence it is that talkative shallow men do often content the
+hearers more than the wise.  But this may find a speedier redress in
+writing, where all comes under the last examination of the eyes.  First,
+mind it well, then pen it, then examine it, then amend it, and you may be
+in the better hope of doing reasonably well.  Under this virtue may come
+plainness, which is not to be curious in the order as to answer a letter,
+as if you were to answer to interrogatories.  As to the first, first; and
+to the second, secondly, &c. but both in method to use (as ladies do in
+their attire) a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive freedom;
+though with some men you are not to jest, or practise tricks; yet the
+delivery of the most important things may be carried with such a grace,
+as that it may yield a pleasure to the conceit of the reader.  There must
+be store, though no excess of terms; as if you are to name store,
+sometimes you may call it choice, sometimes plenty, sometimes
+copiousness, or variety; but ever so, that the word which comes in lieu
+have not such difference of meaning as that it may put the sense of the
+first in hazard to be mistaken.  You are not to cast a ring for the
+perfumed terms of the time, as _accommodation_, _complement_, _spirit_
+&c., but use them properly in their place, as others.
+
+3.  _Vigor_—There followeth life and quickness, which is the strength and
+sinews, as it were, of your penning by pretty sayings, similitudes, and
+conceits; allusions from known history, or other common-place, such as
+are in the _Courtier_, and the second book of Cicero _De Oratore_.
+
+4.  _Discretio_.—The last is, respect to discern what fits yourself, him
+to whom you write, and that which you handle, which is a quality fit to
+conclude the rest, because it doth include all.  And that must proceed
+from ripeness of judgment, which, as one truly saith, is gotten by four
+means, God, nature, diligence, and conversation.  Serve the first well,
+and the rest will serve you.
+
+_De Poetica_.—We have spoken sufficiently of oratory, let us now make a
+diversion to poetry.  Poetry, in the primogeniture, had many peccant
+humours, and is made to have more now, through the levity and inconstancy
+of men’s judgments.  Whereas, indeed, it is the most prevailing
+eloquence, and of the most exalted caract.  Now the discredits and
+disgraces are many it hath received through men’s study of depravation or
+calumny; their practice being to give it diminution of credit, by
+lessening the professor’s estimation, and making the age afraid of their
+liberty; and the age is grown so tender of her fame, as she calls all
+writings aspersions.
+
+That is the state word, the phrase of court (placentia college), which
+some call Parasites place, the Inn of Ignorance.
+
+_D. Hieronymus_.—Whilst I name no persons, but deride follies, why should
+any man confess or betray himself why doth not that of S. Hierome come
+into their mind, _Ubi generalis est de vitiis disputatio_, _ibi nullius
+esse personæ injuriam_? {133a}  Is it such an inexpiable crime in poets
+to tax vices generally, and no offence in them, who, by their exception
+confess they have committed them particularly?  Are we fallen into those
+times that we must not—
+
+   “Auriculas teneras mordaci rodere vero.” {133b}
+
+_Remedii votum semper verius erat_, _quam spes_. {133c}—_Sexus fæmin_.—If
+men may by no means write freely, or speak truth, but when it offends
+not, why do physicians cure with sharp medicines, or corrosives? is not
+the same equally lawful in the cure of the mind that is in the cure of
+the body?  Some vices, you will say, are so foul that it is better they
+should be done than spoken.  But they that take offence where no name,
+character, or signature doth blazon them seem to me like affected as
+women, who if they hear anything ill spoken of the ill of their sex, are
+presently moved, as if the contumely respected their particular; and on
+the contrary, when they hear good of good women, conclude that it belongs
+to them all.  If I see anything that toucheth me, shall I come forth a
+betrayer of myself presently?  No, if I be wise, I’ll dissemble it; if
+honest, I’ll avoid it, lest I publish that on my own forehead which I saw
+there noted without a title.  A man that is on the mending hand will
+either ingenuously confess or wisely dissemble his disease.  And the wise
+and virtuous will never think anything belongs to themselves that is
+written, but rejoice that the good are warned not to be such; and the ill
+to leave to be such.  The person offended hath no reason to be offended
+with the writer, but with himself; and so to declare that properly to
+belong to him which was so spoken of all men, as it could be no man’s
+several, but his that would wilfully and desperately claim it.  It
+sufficeth I know what kind of persons I displease, men bred in the
+declining and decay of virtue, betrothed to their own vices; that have
+abandoned or prostituted their good names; hungry and ambitious of
+infamy, invested in all deformity, enthralled to ignorance and malice, of
+a hidden and concealed malignity, and that hold a concomitancy with all
+evil.
+
+
+
+_What is a Poet_?
+
+
+_Poeta_.—A poet is that which by the Greeks is called κατ εξοχην, ο
+ποιητής, a maker, or a feigner: his art, an art of imitation or feigning;
+expressing the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony,
+according to Aristotle; from the word ποιειν, which signifies to make or
+feign.  Hence he is called a poet, not he which writeth in measure only,
+but that feigneth and formeth a fable, and writes things like the truth.
+For the fable and fiction is, as it were, the form and soul of any
+poetical work or poem.
+
+
+
+_What mean_, _you by a Poem_?
+
+
+_Poema_.—A poem is not alone any work or composition of the poet’s in
+many or few verses; but even one verse alone sometimes makes a perfect
+poem.  As when Æneas hangs up and consecrates the arms of Abas with this
+inscription:—
+
+    “Æneas hæc de Danais victoribus arma.” {136a}
+
+And calls it a poem or carmen.  Such are those in Martial:—
+
+    “Omnia, Castor, emis: sic fiet, ut omnia vendas.” {136b}
+
+And—
+
+    “Pauper videri Cinna vult, et est pauper.” {136c}
+
+_Horatius_.—_Lucretius_.—So were Horace’s odes called Carmina, his lyric
+songs.  And Lucretius designs a whole book in his sixth:—
+
+    “Quod in primo quoque carmine claret.” {136d}
+
+_Epicum_.—_Dramaticum_.—_Lyricum_.—_Elegiacum_.—_Epigrammat_.—And
+anciently all the oracles were called Carmina; or whatever sentence was
+expressed, were it much or little, it was called an Epic, Dramatic,
+Lyric, Elegiac, or Epigrammatic poem.
+
+
+
+_But how differs a Poem from what we call Poesy_?
+
+
+_Poesis_.—_Artium regina_.—_Poet.
+differentiæ_.—_Grammatic_.—_Logic_.—_Rhetoric_.—_Ethica_.—A poem, as I
+have told you, is the work of the poet; the end and fruit of his labour
+and study.  Poesy is his skill or craft of making; the very fiction
+itself, the reason or form of the work.  And these three voices differ,
+as the thing done, the doing, and the doer; the thing feigned, the
+feigning, and the feigner; so the poem, the poesy, and the poet.  Now the
+poesy is the habit or the art; nay, rather the queen of arts, which had
+her original from heaven, received thence from the Hebrews, and had in
+prime estimation with the Greeks transmitted to the Latins and all
+nations that professed civility.  The study of it (if we will trust
+Aristotle) offers to mankind a certain rule and pattern of living well
+and happily, disposing us to all civil offices of society.  If we will
+believe Tully, it nourisheth and instructeth our youth, delights our age,
+adorns our prosperity, comforts our adversity, entertains us at home,
+keeps us company abroad, travels with us, watches, divides the times of
+our earnest and sports, shares in our country recesses and recreations;
+insomuch as the wisest and best learned have thought her the absolute
+mistress of manners and nearest of kin to virtue.  And whereas they
+entitle philosophy to be a rigid and austere poesy, they have, on the
+contrary, styled poesy a dulcet and gentle philosophy, which leads on and
+guides us by the hand to action with a ravishing delight and incredible
+sweetness.  But before we handle the kinds of poems, with their special
+differences, or make court to the art itself, as a mistress, I would lead
+you to the knowledge of our poet by a perfect information what he is or
+should be by nature, by exercise, by imitation, by study, and so bring
+him down through the disciplines of grammar, logic, rhetoric, and the
+ethics, adding somewhat out of all, peculiar to himself, and worthy of
+your admittance or reception.
+
+1.
+_Ingenium_.—_Seneca_.—_Plato_.—_Aristotle_.—_Helicon_.—_Pegasus_.—
+_Parnassus_.—_Ovid_.—First, we require in our poet or maker (for that
+title our language affords him elegantly with the Greek) a goodness of
+natural wit.  For whereas all other arts consist of doctrine and
+precepts, the poet must be able by nature and instinct to pour out the
+treasure of his mind, and as Seneca saith, _Aliquando secundum
+Anacreontem insanire jucundum esse_; by which he understands the poetical
+rapture.  And according to that of Plato, _Frustrà poeticas fores sui
+compos pulsavit_.  And of Aristotle, _Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ
+dementiæ fuit_.  _Nec potest grande aliquid_, _et supra cæteros loqui_,
+_nisi mota mens_.  Then it riseth higher, as by a divine instinct, when
+it contemns common and known conceptions.  It utters somewhat above a
+mortal mouth.  Then it gets aloft and flies away with his rider, whither
+before it was doubtful to ascend.  This the poets understood by their
+Helicon, Pegasus, or Parnassus; and this made Ovid to boast,
+
+    “Est deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo
+    Sedibus æthereis spiritus ille venit.” {139a}
+
+_Lipsius_.—_Petron. in. Fragm_.—And Lipsius to affirm, _Scio_, _poetam
+neminem præstantem fuisse_, _sine parte quadam uberiore divinæ auræ_.
+And hence it is that the coming up of good poets (for I mind not
+mediocres or imos) is so thin and rare among us.  Every beggarly
+corporation affords the State a mayor or two bailiffs yearly; but _Solus
+rex_, _aut poeta_, _non quotannis nascitur_.  To this perfection of
+nature in our poet we require exercise of those parts, and frequent.
+
+2.  _Exercitatio_.—_Virgil_.—_Scaliger_.—_Valer.
+Maximus_.—_Euripides_.—_Alcestis_.—If his wit will not arrive suddenly at
+the dignity of the ancients, let him not yet fall out with it, quarrel,
+or be over hastily angry; offer to turn it away from study in a humour,
+but come to it again upon better cogitation; try another time with
+labour.  If then it succeed not, cast not away the quills yet, nor
+scratch the wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring all to the forge
+and file again; torn it anew.  There is no statute law of the kingdom
+bids you be a poet against your will or the first quarter; if it comes in
+a year or two, it is well.  The common rhymers pour forth verses, such as
+they are, _ex tempore_; but there never comes from them one sense worth
+the life of a day.  A rhymer and a poet are two things.  It is said of
+the incomparable Virgil that he brought forth his verses like a bear, and
+after formed them with licking.  Scaliger the father writes it of him,
+that he made a quantity of verses in the morning, which afore night he
+reduced to a less number.  But that which Valerius Maximus hath left
+recorded of Euripides, the tragic poet, his answer to Alcestis, another
+poet, is as memorable as modest; who, when it was told to Alcestis that
+Euripides had in three days brought forth but three verses, and those
+with some difficulty and throes, Alcestis, glorying he could with ease
+have sent forth a hundred in the space, Euripides roundly replied, “Like
+enough; but here is the difference: thy verses will not last these three
+days, mine will to all time.”  Which was as much as to tell him he could
+not write a verse.  I have met many of these rattles that made a noise
+and buzzed.  They had their hum, and no more.  Indeed, things wrote with
+labour deserve to be so read, and will last their age.
+
+3.
+_Imitatio_.—_Horatius_.—_Virgil_.—_Statius_.—_Homer_.—_Horat_.—_Archil_.—
+_Alcæus_, &c.—The third requisite in our poet or maker is imitation, to
+be able to convert the substance or riches of another poet to his own
+use.  To make choice of one excellent man above the rest, and so to
+follow him till he grow very he, or so like him as the copy may be
+mistaken for the principal.  Not as a creature that swallows what it
+takes in crude, raw, or undigested, but that feeds with an appetite, and
+hath a stomach to concoct, divide, and turn all into nourishment.  Not to
+imitate servilely, as Horace saith, and catch at vices for virtue, but to
+draw forth out of the best and choicest flowers, with the bee, and turn
+all into honey, work it into one relish and savour; make our imitation
+sweet; observe how the best writers have imitated, and follow them.  How
+Virgil and Statius have imitated Homer; how Horace, Archilochus; how
+Alcæus, and the other lyrics; and so of the rest.
+
+4.  _Lectio_.—_Parnassus_.—_Helicon_.—_Arscoron_.—_M. T.
+Cicero_.—_Simylus_.—_Stob_.—_Horat_.—_Aristot_.—But that which we
+especially require in him is an exactness of study and multiplicity of
+reading, which maketh a full man, not alone enabling him to know the
+history or argument of a poem and to report it, but so to master the
+matter and style, as to show he knows how to handle, place, or dispose of
+either with elegancy when need shall be.  And not think he can leap forth
+suddenly a poet by dreaming he hath been in Parnassus, or having washed
+his lips, as they say, in Helicon.  There goes more to his making than
+so; for to nature, exercise, imitation, and study art must be added to
+make all these perfect.  And though these challenge to themselves much in
+the making up of our maker, it is Art only can lead him to perfection,
+and leave him there in possession, as planted by her hand.  It is the
+assertion of Tully, if to an excellent nature there happen an accession
+or conformation of learning and discipline, there will then remain
+somewhat noble and singular.  For, as Simylus saith in Stobæus, Ουτε
+φύσις ίκανη yινεται τεχνης ατερ, ουτε παν τέχνη μη φυσιν κεκτημένη,
+without art nature can never be perfect; and without nature art can claim
+no being.  But our poet must beware that his study be not only to learn
+of himself; for he that shall affect to do that confesseth his ever
+having a fool to his master.  He must read many, but ever the best and
+choicest; those that can teach him anything he must ever account his
+masters, and reverence.  Among whom Horace and (he that taught him)
+Aristotle deserved to be the first in estimation.  Aristotle was the
+first accurate critic and truest judge—nay, the greatest philosopher the
+world ever had—for he noted the vices of all knowledges in all creatures,
+and out of many men’s perfections in a science he formed still one art.
+So he taught us two offices together, how we ought to judge rightly of
+others, and what we ought to imitate specially in ourselves.  But all
+this in vain without a natural wit and a poetical nature in chief.  For
+no man, so soon as he knows this or reads it, shall be able to write the
+better; but as he is adapted to it by nature, he shall grow the perfecter
+writer.  He must have civil prudence and eloquence, and that whole; not
+taken up by snatches or pieces in sentences or remnants when he will
+handle business or carry counsels, as if he came then out of the
+declaimer’s gallery, or shadow furnished but out of the body of the
+State, which commonly is the school of men.
+
+_Virorum schola respub_.—_Lysippus_.—_Apelles_.—_Nævius_.—The poet is the
+nearest borderer upon the orator, and expresseth all his virtues, though
+he be tied more to numbers, is his equal in ornament, and above him in
+his strengths.  And (of the kind) the comic comes nearest; because in
+moving the minds of men, and stirring of affections (in which oratory
+shows, and especially approves her eminence), he chiefly excels.  What
+figure of a body was Lysippus ever able to form with his graver, or
+Apelles to paint with his pencil, as the comedy to life expresseth so
+many and various affections of the mind?  There shall the spectator see
+some insulting with joy, others fretting with melancholy, raging with
+anger, mad with love, boiling with avarice, undone with riot, tortured
+with expectation, consumed with fear; no perturbation in common life but
+the orator finds an example of it in the scene.  And then for the
+elegancy of language, read but this inscription on the grave of a comic
+poet:
+
+    “Immortales mortales si fas esset fiere,
+    Flerent divæ Camœnæ Nævium poetam;
+    Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro,
+    Obliti sunt Romæ linguâ loqui Latinâ.” {146a}
+
+_L. Ælius Stilo_.—_Plautus_.—_M. Varro_.—Or that modester testimony given
+by Lucius Ælius Stilo upon Plautus, who affirmed, “_Musas_, _si Latinè
+loqui voluissent_, _Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas_.”  And that
+illustrious judgment by the most learned M. Varro of him, who pronounced
+him the prince of letters and elegancy in the Roman language.
+
+_Sophocles_.—I am not of that opinion to conclude a poet’s liberty within
+the narrow limits of laws which either the grammarians or philosophers
+prescribe.  For before they found out those laws there were many
+excellent poets that fulfilled them, amongst whom none more perfect than
+Sophocles, who lived a little before Aristotle.
+
+_Demosthenes_.—_Pericles_.—_Alcibiades_.—Which of the Greeklings durst
+ever give precepts to Demosthenes? or to Pericles, whom the age surnamed
+Heavenly, because he seemed to thunder and lighten with his language? or
+to Alcibiades, who had rather Nature for his guide than Art for his
+master?
+
+_Aristotle_.—But whatsoever nature at any time dictated to the most
+happy, or long exercise to the most laborious, that the wisdom and
+learning of Aristotle hath brought into an art, because he understood the
+causes of things; and what other men did by chance or custom he doth by
+reason; and not only found out the way not to err, but the short way we
+should take not to err.
+
+_Euripides_.—_Aristophanes_.—Many things in Euripides hath Aristophanes
+wittily reprehended, not out of art, but out of truth.  For Euripides is
+sometimes peccant, as he is most times perfect.  But judgment when it is
+greatest, if reason doth not accompany it, is not ever absolute.
+
+_Cens. Scal. in Lil. Germ_.—_Horace_.—To judge of poets is only the
+faculty of poets; and not of all poets, but the best.  _Nemo infeliciùs
+de poetis judicavit_, _quàm qui de poetis scripsit_. {148a}  But some
+will say critics are a kind of tinkers, that make more faults than they
+mend ordinarily.  See their diseases and those of grammarians.  It is
+true, many bodies are the worse for the meddling with; and the multitude
+of physicians hath destroyed many sound patients with their wrong
+practice.  But the office of a true critic or censor is, not to throw by
+a letter anywhere, or damn an innocent syllable, but lay the words
+together, and amend them; judge sincerely of the author and his matter,
+which is the sign of solid and perfect learning in a man.  Such was
+Horace, an author of much civility, and (if any one among the heathen can
+be) the best master both of virtue and wisdom; an excellent and true
+judge upon cause and reason, not because he thought so, but because he
+knew so out of use and experience.
+
+Cato, the grammarian, a defender of Lucilius. {149a}
+
+    “Cato grammaticus, Latina syren,
+    Qui solus legit, et facit poetas.”
+
+Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected. {149b}
+
+Horace, his judgment of Chœrillus defended against Joseph Scaliger.
+{149c}  And of Laberius against Julius. {149d}
+
+But chiefly his opinion of Plautus {149e} vindicated against many that
+are offended, and say it is a hard censure upon the parent of all conceit
+and sharpness.  And they wish it had not fallen from so great a master
+and censor in the art, whose bondmen knew better how to judge of Plautus
+than any that dare patronise the family of learning in this age; who
+could not be ignorant of the judgment of the times in which he lived,
+when poetry and the Latin language were at the height; especially being a
+man so conversant and inwardly familiar with the censures of great men
+that did discourse of these things daily amongst themselves.  Again, a
+man so gracious and in high favour with the Emperor, as Augustus often
+called him his witty manling (for the littleness of his stature), and, if
+we may trust antiquity, had designed him for a secretary of estate, and
+invited him to the palace, which he modestly prayed off and refused.
+
+_Terence_.—_Menander_.  Horace did so highly esteem Terence’s comedies,
+as he ascribes the art in comedy to him alone among the Latins, and joins
+him with Menander.
+
+Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend Horace’s judgment
+to posterity and not wholly to condemn Plautus.
+
+_The parts of a comedy and tragedy_.—The parts of a comedy are the same
+with a tragedy, and the end is partly the same, for they both delight and
+teach; the comics are called διδάσκαλοι, of the Greeks no less than the
+tragics.
+
+_Aristotle_.—_Plato_.—_Homer_.—Nor is the moving of laughter always the
+end of comedy; that is rather a fowling for the people’s delight, or
+their fooling.  For, as Aristotle says rightly, the moving of laughter is
+a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude that depraves some part of a man’s
+nature without a disease.  As a wry face without pain moves laughter, or
+a deformed vizard, or a rude clown dressed in a lady’s habit and using
+her actions; we dislike and scorn such representations which made the
+ancient philosophers ever think laughter unfitting in a wise man.  And
+this induced Plato to esteem of Homer as a sacrilegious person, because
+he presented the gods sometimes laughing.  As also it is divinely said of
+Aristotle, that to seen ridiculous is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.
+
+_The wit of the old comedy_.—So that what either in the words or sense of
+an author, or in the language or actions of men, is awry or depraved does
+strangely stir mean affections, and provoke for the most part to
+laughter.  And therefore it was clear that all insolent and obscene
+speeches, jests upon the best men, injuries to particular persons,
+perverse and sinister sayings (and the rather unexpected) in the old
+comedy did move laughter, especially where it did imitate any dishonesty,
+and scurrility came forth in the place of wit, which, who understands the
+nature and genius of laughter cannot but perfectly know.
+
+_Aristophanes_.—_Plautus_.—Of which Aristophanes affords an ample
+harvest, having not only outgone Plautus or any other in that kind, but
+expressed all the moods and figures of what is ridiculous oddly.  In
+short, as vinegar is not accounted good until the wine be corrupted, so
+jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter with the beast the
+multitude.  They love nothing that is right and proper.  The farther it
+runs from reason or possibility with them the better it is.
+
+_Socrates_.—_Theatrical wit_.—What could have made them laugh, like to
+see Socrates presented, that example of all good life, honesty, and
+virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pulley, and there play the
+philosopher in a basket; measure how many foot a flea could skip
+geometrically, by a just scale, and edify the people from the engine.
+This was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing a playhouse,
+invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had savoured of equity,
+truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have tasten a wise or a learned
+palate,—spit it out presently! this is bitter and profitable: this
+instructs and would inform us: what need we know any thing, that are
+nobly born, more than a horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to break
+with citizens, and such innate mysteries?
+
+_The cart_.—This is truly leaping from the stage to the tumbril again,
+reducing all wit to the original dung-cart.
+
+
+
+Of the magnitude and compass of any fable, epic or dramatic.
+
+
+_What the measure of a fable is_.—_The fable or plot of a poem
+defined_.—_The epic fable_, _differing from the dramatic_.—To the
+resolving of this question we must first agree in the definition of the
+fable.  The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect
+action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the
+structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling
+the whole, of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members.
+As for example: if a man would build a house, he would first appoint a
+place to build it in, which he would define within certain bounds; so in
+the constitution of a poem, the action is aimed at by the poet, which
+answers place in a building, and that action hath his largeness, compass,
+and proportion.  But as a court or king’s palace requires other
+dimensions than a private house, so the epic asks a magnitude from other
+poems, since what is place in the one is action in the other; the
+difference is an space.  So that by this definition we conclude the fable
+to be the imitation of one perfect and entire action, as one perfect and
+entire place is required to a building.  By perfect, we understand that
+to which nothing is wanting, as place to the building that is raised, and
+action to the fable that is formed.  It is perfect, perhaps not for a
+court or king’s palace, which requires a greater ground, but for the
+structure he would raise; so the space of the action may not prove large
+enough for the epic fable, yet be perfect for the dramatic, and whole.
+
+_What we understand by whole_.—Whole we call that, and perfect, which
+hath a beginning, a midst, and an end.  So the place of any building may
+be whole and entire for that work, though too little for a palace.  As to
+a tragedy or a comedy, the action may be convenient and perfect that
+would not fit an epic poem in magnitude.  So a lion is a perfect creature
+in himself, though it be less than that of a buffalo or a rhinocerote.
+They differ but in specie: either in the kind is absolute; both have
+their parts, and either the whole.  Therefore, as in every body so in
+every action, which is the subject of a just work, there is required a
+certain proportionable greatness, neither too vast nor too minute.  For
+that which happens to the eyes when we behold a body, the same happens to
+the memory when we contemplate an action.  I look upon a monstrous giant,
+as Tityus, whose body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks
+upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts will never be
+taken in at one entire view.  So in a fable, if the action be too great,
+we can never comprehend the whole together in our imagination.  Again, if
+it be too little, there ariseth no pleasure out of the object; it affords
+the view no stay; it is beheld, and vanisheth at once.  As if we should
+look upon an ant or pismire, the parts fly the sight, and the whole
+considered is almost nothing.  The same happens in action, which is the
+object of memory, as the body is of sight.  Too vast oppresseth the eyes,
+and exceeds the memory; too little scarce admits either.
+
+_What is the utmost bounds of a fable_.—Now in every action it behoves
+the poet to know which is his utmost bound, how far with fitness and a
+necessary proportion he may produce and determine it; that is, till
+either good fortune change into the worse, or the worse into the better.
+For as a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no more can the
+action, either in comedy or tragedy, without his fit bounds: and every
+bound, for the nature of the subject, is esteemed the best that is
+largest, till it can increase no more; so it behoves the action in
+tragedy or comedy to be let grow till the necessity ask a conclusion;
+wherein two things are to be considered: first, that it exceed not the
+compass of one day; next, that there be place left for digression and
+art.  For the episodes and digressions in a fable are the same that
+household stuff and other furniture are in a house.  And so far from the
+measure and extent of a fable dramatic.
+
+_What by one and entire_.—Now that it should be one and entire.  One is
+considerable two ways; either as it is only separate, and by itself, or
+as being composed of many parts, it begins to be one as those parts grow
+or are wrought together.  That it should be one the first away alone, and
+by itself, no man that hath tasted letters ever would say, especially
+having required before a just magnitude and equal proportion of the parts
+in themselves.  Neither of which can possibly be, if the action be single
+and separate, not composed of parts, which laid together in themselves,
+with an equal and fitting proportion, tend to the same end; which thing
+out of antiquity itself hath deceived many, and more this day it doth
+deceive.
+
+_Hercules_.—_Theseus_.—_Achilles_.—_Ulysses_.—_Homer and
+Virgil_.—_Æneas_.—_Venus_.—So many there be of old that have thought the
+action of one man to be one, as of Hercules, Theseus, Achilles, Ulysses,
+and other heroes; which is both foolish and false, since by one and the
+same person many things may be severally done which cannot fitly be
+referred or joined to the same end: which not only the excellent tragic
+poets, but the best masters of the epic, Homer and Virgil, saw.  For
+though the argument of an epic poem be far more diffused and poured out
+than that of tragedy, yet Virgil, writing of Æneas, hath pretermitted
+many things.  He neither tells how he was born, how brought up, how he
+fought with Achilles, how he was snatched out of the battle by Venus; but
+that one thing, how he came into Italy, he prosecutes in twelve books.
+The rest of his journey, his error by sea, the sack of Troy, are put not
+as the argument of the work, but episodes of the argument.  So Homer laid
+by many things of Ulysses, and handled no more than he saw tended to one
+and the same end.
+
+_Theseus_.—_Hercules_.—_Juvenal_.—_Codrus_.—_Sophocles_.—_Ajax_.—
+_Ulysses_.—Contrary to which, and foolishly, those poets did, whom the
+philosopher taxeth, of whom one gathered all the actions of Theseus,
+another put all the labours of Hercules in one work.  So did he whom
+Juvenal mentions in the beginning, “hoarse Codrus,” that recited a volume
+compiled, which he called his Theseide, not yet finished, to the great
+trouble both of his hearers and himself; amongst which there were many
+parts had no coherence nor kindred one with another, so far they were
+from being one action, one fable.  For as a house, consisting of divers
+materials, becomes one structure and one dwelling, so an action, composed
+of divers parts, may become one fable, epic or dramatic.  For example, in
+a tragedy, look upon Sophocles, his Ajax: Ajax, deprived of Achilles’
+armour, which he hoped from the suffrage of the Greeks, disdains; and,
+growing impatient of the injury, rageth, and runs mad.  In that humour he
+doth many senseless things, and at last falls upon the Grecian flock and
+kills a great ram for Ulysses: returning to his senses, he grows ashamed
+of the scorn, and kills himself; and is by the chiefs of the Greeks
+forbidden burial.  These things agree and hang together, not as they were
+done, but as seeming to be done, which made the action whole, entire, and
+absolute.
+
+_The conclusion concerning the whole_, _and the parts_.—_Which are
+episodes_.—_Ajax and Hector_.—_Homer_.—For the whole, as it consisteth of
+parts, so without all the parts it is not the whole; and to make it
+absolute is required not only the parts, but such parts as are true.  For
+a part of the whole was true; which, if you take away, you either change
+the whole or it is not the whole.  For if it be such a part, as, being
+present or absent, nothing concerns the whole, it cannot be called a part
+of the whole; and such are the episodes, of which hereafter.  For the
+present here is one example: the single combat of Ajax with Hector, as it
+is at large described in Homer, nothing belongs to this Ajax of
+Sophocles.
+
+You admire no poems but such as run like a brewer’s cart upon the stones,
+hobbling:—
+
+    “Et, quæ per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt,
+       Accius et quidquid Pacuviusque vomunt.
+    Attonitusque legis terraï, frugiferaï.” {160a}
+
+
+
+
+SOME POEMS.
+
+
+TO WILLIAM CAMDEN.
+
+
+   CAMDEN! most reverend head, to whom I owe
+   All that I am in arts, all that I know—
+   How nothing’s that! to whom my country owes
+   The great renown, and name wherewith she goes!
+   Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave,
+   More high, more holy, that she more would crave.
+   What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things!
+   What sight in searching the most antique springs!
+   What weight, and what authority in thy speech!
+   Men scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach.
+   Pardon free truth, and let thy modesty,
+   Which conquers all, be once o’ercome by thee.
+   Many of thine, this better could, than I;
+   But for their powers, accept my piety.
+
+
+
+ON MY FIRST DAUGHTER.
+
+
+   HERE lies, to each her parents’ ruth,
+   Mary, the daughter of their youth;
+   Yet, all heaven’s gifts, being heaven’s due,
+   It makes the father less to rue.
+   At six months’ end, she parted hence,
+   With safety of her innocence;
+   Whose soul heaven’s queen, whose name she bears,
+   In comfort of her mother’s tears,
+   Hath placed amongst her virgin-train;
+   Where, while that severed doth remain,
+   This grave partakes the fleshly birth;
+   Which cover lightly, gentle earth!
+
+
+
+ON MY FIRST SON.
+
+
+   FAREWELL, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
+   My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy;
+   Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
+   Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
+   Oh! could I lose all father, now! for why,
+   Will man lament the state he should envy?
+   To have so soon ’scaped world’s, and flesh’s rage,
+   And, if no other misery, yet age!
+   Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie
+   Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry;
+   For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such,
+   As what he loves may never like too much.
+
+
+
+TO FRANCIS BEAUMONT.
+
+
+   HOW I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse,
+   That unto me dost such religion use!
+   How I do fear myself, that am not worth
+   The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth!
+   At once thou mak’st me happy, and unmak’st;
+   And giving largely to me, more thou takest!
+   What fate is mine, that so itself bereaves?
+   What art is thine, that so thy friend deceives?
+   When even there, where most thou praisest me,
+   For writing better, I must envy thee.
+
+
+
+OF LIFE AND DEATH.
+
+
+   THE ports of death are sins; of life, good deeds:
+   Through which our merit leads us to our meeds.
+   How wilful blind is he, then, that would stray,
+   And hath it in his powers to make his way!
+   This world death’s region is, the other life’s:
+   And here it should be one of our first strifes,
+   So to front death, as men might judge us past it:
+   For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.
+
+
+
+INVITING A FRIEND TO SUPPER.
+
+
+   TO-NIGHT, grave sir, both my poor house and I
+   Do equally desire your company;
+   Not that we think us worthy such a guest,
+   But that your worth will dignify our feast,
+   With those that come; whose grace may make that seem
+   Something, which else could hope for no esteem.
+   It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates
+   The entertainment perfect, not the cates.
+   Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,
+   An olive, capers, or some bitter salad
+   Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,
+   If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,
+   Lemons and wine for sauce: to these, a coney
+   Is not to be despaired of for our money;
+   And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,
+   The sky not falling, think we may have larks.
+   I’ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:
+   Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some
+   May yet be there; and godwit if we can;
+   Knat, rail, and ruff, too.  Howsoe’er, my man
+   Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,
+   Livy, or of some better book to us,
+   Of which we’ll speak our minds, amidst our meat;
+   And I’ll profess no verses to repeat:
+   To this if aught appear, which I not know of,
+   That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.
+   Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be;
+   But that which most doth take my muse and me,
+   Is a pure cup of rich canary wine,
+   Which is the Mermaid’s now, but shall be mine:
+   Of which had Horace, or Anacreon tasted,
+   Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
+   Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,
+   Are all but Luther’s beer, to this I sing.
+   Of this we will sup free, but moderately,
+   And we will have no Pooly’ or Parrot by;
+   Nor shall our cups make any guilty men;
+   But at our parting we will be as when
+   We innocently met.  No simple word
+   That shall be uttered at our mirthful board,
+   Shall make us sad next morning; or affright
+   The liberty that we’ll enjoy to-night.
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON SALATHIEL PAVY,
+A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH’S CHAPEL.
+
+
+   WEEP with me all you that read
+      This little story;
+   And know for whom a tear you shed,
+      Death’s self is sorry.
+   ’Twas a child that so did thrive
+      In grace and feature,
+   As heaven and nature seemed to strive
+      Which owned the creature.
+   Years he numbered scarce thirteen
+      When fates turned cruel;
+   Yet three filled zodiacs had he been
+      The stage’s jewel;
+   And did act, what now we moan,
+      Old men so duly;
+   As, sooth, the Parcæ thought him one
+      He played so truly.
+   So, by error to his fate
+      They all consented;
+   But viewing him since, alas, too late!
+      They have repented;
+   And have sought to give new birth,
+      In baths to steep him;
+   But, being so much too good for earth,
+      Heaven vows to keep him.
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L. H.
+
+
+   WOULDST thou hear what man can say
+   In a little?  Reader, stay.
+   Underneath this stone doth lie
+   As much beauty as could die
+   Which in life did harbour give
+   To more virtue than doth live.
+   If, at all, she had a fault
+   Leave it buried in this vault.
+   One name was Elizabeth,
+   The other let it sleep with death.
+   Fitter, where it died, to tell,
+   Than that it lived at all.  Farewell.
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE.
+
+
+   UNDERNEATH this sable hearse
+   Lies the subject of all verse,
+   Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother:
+   Death! ere thou hast slain another,
+   Learned, and fair, and good as she,
+   Time shall throw a dart at thee.
+
+
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, AND WHAT HE HATH
+LEFT US.
+
+
+   TO draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy name,
+   Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
+   While I confess thy writings to be such,
+   As neither man, nor muse can praise too much.
+   ’Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.  But these ways
+   Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
+   For silliest ignorance on these may light,
+   Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
+   Or blind affection, which doth ne’er advance
+   The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
+   Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
+   And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.
+   These are, as some infamous bawd, or whore,
+   Should praise a matron; what would hurt her more?
+   But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,
+   Above the ill-fortune of them, or the need.
+   I, therefore, will begin: Soul of the age!
+   The applause! delight! and wonder of our stage!
+   My Shakspeare rise!  I will not lodge thee by
+   Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
+   A little further off, to make thee room:
+   Thou art a monument without a tomb,
+   And art alive still, while thy book doth live
+   And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
+   That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,
+   I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;
+   For if I thought my judgment were of years,
+   I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
+   And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine,
+   Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow’s mighty line.
+   And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
+   From thence to honour thee, I will not seek
+   For names: but call forth thundering Eschylus,
+   Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
+   Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead,
+   To live again, to hear thy buskin tread,
+   And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on,
+   Leave thee alone for the comparison
+   Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome
+   Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
+   Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,
+   To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
+   He was not of an age, but for all time!
+   And all the Muses still were in their prime,
+   When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
+   Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!
+   Nature herself was proud of his designs,
+   And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
+   Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
+   As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
+   The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
+   Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;
+   But antiquated and deserted lie,
+   As they were not of nature’s family.
+   Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,
+   My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.
+   For though the poet’s matter nature be,
+   His heart doth give the fashion: and, that he
+   Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
+   (Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
+   Upon the Muse’s anvil; turn the same,
+   And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;
+   Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn;
+   For a good poet’s made, as well as born.
+   And such wert thou!  Look how the father’s face
+   Lives in his issue, even so the race
+   Of Shakspeare’s mind and manners brightly shines
+   In his well-turnèd, and true filèd lines;
+   In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
+   As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.
+   Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were
+   To see thee in our water yet appear,
+   And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
+   That so did take Eliza, and our James!
+   But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere
+   Advanced, and made a constellation there!
+   Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage,
+   Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,
+   Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,
+   And despairs day, but for thy volume’s light.
+
+
+
+TO CELIA.
+
+
+   DRINK to me only with thine eyes,
+      And I will pledge with mine;
+   Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
+      And I’ll not look for wine.
+   The thirst that from the soul doth rise
+      Doth ask a drink divine:
+   But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
+      I would not change for thine.
+
+   I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
+      Not so much honouring thee,
+   As giving it a hope that there
+      It could not withered be.
+   But thou thereon didst only breathe,
+      And sent’st it back to me:
+   Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
+      Not of itself, but thee.
+
+
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS.
+
+
+      SEE the chariot at hand here of Love,
+         Wherein my lady rideth!
+      Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
+         And well the car Love guideth.
+      As she goes, all hearts do duty
+            Unto her beauty;
+      And, enamoured, do wish, so they might
+            But enjoy such a sight,
+      That they still were to run by her side,
+   Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.
+
+      Do but look on her eyes, they do light
+         All that Love’s world compriseth!
+      Do but look on her hair, it is bright
+         As Love’s star when it riseth!
+      Do but mark, her forehead’s smoother
+            Than words that soothe her!
+      And from her arched brows, such a grace
+            Sheds itself through the face,
+      As alone there triumphs to the life
+   All the gain, all the good, of the elements’ strife.
+
+      Have you seen but a bright lily grow
+         Before rude hands have touched it?
+      Have you marked but the fall o’ the snow
+         Before the soil hath smutched it?
+      Have you felt the wool of beaver?
+            Or swan’s down ever?
+      Or have smelt o’ the bud o’ the brier?
+            Or the nard in the fire?
+      Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
+   O so white!  O so soft!  O so sweet is she!
+
+
+
+IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND.
+A SONG APOLOGETIC.
+
+
+   MEN, if you love us, play no more
+      The fools or tyrants with your friends,
+   To make us still sing o’er and o’er
+      Our own false praises, for your ends:
+         We have both wits and fancies too,
+         And, if we must, let’s sing of you.
+
+   Nor do we doubt but that we can,
+      If we would search with care and pain,
+   Find some one good in some one man;
+      So going thorough all your strain,
+         We shall, at last, of parcels make
+         One good enough for a song’s sake.
+
+   And as a cunning painter takes,
+      In any curious piece you see,
+   More pleasure while the thing he makes,
+      Than when ’tis made—why so will we.
+         And having pleased our art, we’ll try
+         To make a new, and hang that by.
+
+
+
+ODE
+
+
+_To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair_, _Sir Lucius
+Cary and Sir Henry Morison_.
+
+
+I.
+
+THE TURN.
+
+
+      BRAVE infant of Saguntum, clear
+      Thy coming forth in that great year,
+   When the prodigious Hannibal did crown
+   His cage, with razing your immortal town.
+         Thou, looking then about,
+         Ere thou wert half got out,
+      Wise child, didst hastily return,
+      And mad’st thy mother’s womb thine urn.
+   How summed a circle didst thou leave mankind
+   Of deepest lore, could we the centre find!
+
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN.
+
+
+      Did wiser nature draw thee back,
+      From out the horror of that sack,
+   Where shame, faith, honour, and regard of right,
+   Lay trampled on? the deeds of death and night,
+         Urged, hurried forth, and hurled
+         Upon th’ affrighted world;
+      Sword, fire, and famine, with fell fury met,
+      And all on utmost ruin set;
+   As, could they but life’s miseries foresee,
+   No doubt all infants would return like thee.
+
+
+THE STAND.
+
+
+   For what is life, if measured by the space
+         Not by the act?
+   Or maskèd man, if valued by his face,
+         Above his fact?
+      Here’s one outlived his peers,
+      And told forth fourscore years;
+      He vexèd time, and busied the whole state;
+         Troubled both foes and friends;
+         But ever to no ends:
+      What did this stirrer but die late?
+   How well at twenty had he fallen or stood!
+   For three of his fourscore he did no good.
+
+
+II.
+
+THE TURN
+
+
+      He entered well, by virtuous parts,
+      Got up, and thrived with honest arts;
+   He purchased friends, and fame, and honours then,
+   And had his noble name advanced with men:
+         But weary of that flight,
+         He stooped in all men’s sight
+            To sordid flatteries, acts of strife,
+            And sunk in that dead sea of life,
+   So deep, as he did then death’s waters sup,
+   But that the cork of title buoyed him up.
+
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN
+
+
+      Alas! but Morison fell young:
+      He never fell,—thou fall’st, my tongue.
+   He stood a soldier to the last right end,
+   A perfect patriot, and a noble friend;
+         But most, a virtuous son.
+         All offices were done
+      By him, so ample, full, and round,
+      In weight, in measure, number, sound,
+   As, though his age imperfect might appear,
+   His life was of humanity the sphere.
+
+
+THE STAND
+
+
+   Go now, and tell out days summed up with fears,
+         And make them years;
+   Produce thy mass of miseries on the stage,
+         To swell thine age;
+      Repeat of things a throng,
+      To show thou hast been long,
+   Not lived: for life doth her great actions spell.
+      By what was done and wrought
+      In season, and so brought
+   To light: her measures are, how well
+   Each syllabe answered, and was formed, how fair;
+   These make the lines of life, and that’s her air!
+
+
+III.
+
+THE TURN
+
+
+      It is not growing like a tree
+      In bulk, doth make men better be;
+   Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
+   To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear:
+         A lily of a day,
+         Is fairer far in May,
+      Although it fall and die that night;
+      It was the plant, and flower of light.
+   In small proportions we just beauties see;
+   And in short measures, life may perfect be.
+
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN
+
+
+      Call, noble Lucius, then for wine,
+      And let thy looks with gladness shine:
+   Accept this garland, plant it on thy head
+   And think, nay know, thy Morison’s not dead
+         He leaped the present age,
+         Possessed with holy rage
+      To see that bright eternal day;
+      Of which we priests and poets say,
+   Such truths, as we expect for happy men:
+   And there he lives with memory and Ben.
+
+
+THE STAND
+
+
+   Jonson, who sung this of him, ere he went,
+            Himself to rest,
+   Or taste a part of that full joy he meant
+            To have expressed,
+         In this bright Asterism!
+         Where it were friendship’s schism,
+      Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry,
+         To separate these twi-
+         Lights, the Dioscouri;
+      And keep the one half from his Harry,
+   But fate doth so alternate the design
+   Whilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine.
+
+
+IV.
+
+THE TURN
+
+
+      And shine as you exalted are;
+      Two names of friendship, but one star:
+   Of hearts the union, and those not by chance
+   Made, or indenture, or leased out t’advance
+         The profits for a time.
+         No pleasures vain did chime,
+      Of rhymes, or riots, at your feasts,
+      Orgies of drink, or feigned protests:
+   But simple love of greatness and of good,
+   That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.
+
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN
+
+
+      This made you first to know the why
+      You liked, then after, to apply
+   That liking; and approach so one the t’other,
+   Till either grew a portion of the other:
+         Each styled by his end,
+         The copy of his friend.
+      You lived to be the great sir-names,
+      And titles, by which all made claims
+   Unto the virtue; nothing perfect done,
+   But as a Cary, or a Morison.
+
+
+THE STAND
+
+
+   And such a force the fair example had,
+            As they that saw
+   The good, and durst not practise it, were glad
+            That such a law
+         Was left yet to mankind;
+         Where they might read and find
+      Friendship, indeed, was written not in words;
+         And with the heart, not pen,
+         Of two so early men,
+      Whose lines her rolls were, and records;
+   Who, ere the first down bloomed upon the chin,
+   Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in.
+
+
+PRÆLUDIUM.
+
+
+   AND must I sing?  What subject shall I choose!
+   Or whose great name in poets’ heaven use,
+   For the more countenance to my active muse?
+
+   Hercules? alas, his bones are yet sore
+   With his old earthly labours t’ exact more
+   Of his dull godhead were sin.  I’ll implore
+
+   Phœbus.  No, tend thy cart still.  Envious day
+   Shall not give out that I have made thee stay,
+   And foundered thy hot team, to tune my lay.
+
+   Nor will I beg of thee, lord of the vine,
+   To raise my spirits with thy conjuring wine,
+   In the green circle of thy ivy twine.
+
+   Pallas, nor thee I call on, mankind maid,
+   That at thy birth mad’st the poor smith afraid.
+   Who with his axe thy father’s midwife played.
+
+   Go, cramp dull Mars, light Venus, when he snorts,
+   Or with thy tribade trine invent new sports;
+   Thou, nor thy looseness with my making sorts.
+
+   Let the old boy, your son, ply his old task,
+   Turn the stale prologue to some painted mask;
+   His absence in my verse is all I ask.
+
+   Hermes, the cheater, shall not mix with us,
+   Though he would steal his sisters’ Pegasus,
+   And rifle him; or pawn his petasus.
+
+   Nor all the ladies of the Thespian lake,
+   Though they were crushed into one form, could make
+   A beauty of that merit, that should take
+
+   My muse up by commission; no, I bring
+   My own true fire: now my thought takes wing,
+   And now an epode to deep ears I sing.
+
+
+
+EPODE.
+
+
+   NOT to know vice at all, and keep true state,
+      Is virtue and not fate:
+   Next to that virtue, is to know vice well,
+      And her black spite expel.
+   Which to effect (since no breast is so sure,
+      Or safe, but she’ll procure
+   Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard
+      Of thoughts to watch and ward
+   At th’ eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,
+      That no strange, or unkind
+   Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,
+      Give knowledge instantly
+   To wakeful reason, our affections’ king:
+      Who, in th’ examining,
+   Will quickly taste the treason, and commit
+      Close, the close cause of it.
+   ’Tis the securest policy we have,
+      To make our sense our slave.
+   But this true course is not embraced by many:
+      By many! scarce by any.
+   For either our affections do rebel,
+      Or else the sentinel,
+   That should ring ’larum to the heart, doth sleep:
+      Or some great thought doth keep
+   Back the intelligence, and falsely swears
+      They’re base and idle fears
+   Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.
+      Thus, by these subtle trains,
+   Do several passions invade the mind,
+      And strike our reason blind:
+   Of which usurping rank, some have thought love
+      The first: as prone to move
+   Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests,
+      In our inflamèd breasts:
+   But this doth from the cloud of error grow,
+      Which thus we over-blow.
+   The thing they here call love is blind desire,
+      Armed with bow, shafts, and fire;
+   Inconstant, like the sea, of whence ’tis born,
+      Rough, swelling, like a storm;
+   With whom who sails, rides on the surge of fear,
+      And boils as if he were
+   In a continual tempest.  Now, true love
+      No such effects doth prove;
+   That is an essence far more gentle, fine,
+      Pure, perfect, nay, divine;
+   It is a golden chain let down from heaven,
+      Whose links are bright and even;
+   That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines
+      The soft and sweetest minds
+   In equal knots: this bears no brands, nor darts,
+      To murder different hearts,
+   But, in a calm and god-like unity,
+      Preserves community.
+   O, who is he that, in this peace, enjoys
+      Th’ elixir of all joys?
+   A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,
+      And lasting as her flowers;
+   Richer than Time and, as Times’s virtue, rare;
+      Sober as saddest care;
+   A fixèd thought, an eye untaught to glance;
+      Who, blest with such high chance,
+   Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,
+      Cast himself from the spire
+   Of all his happiness?  But soft: I hear
+      Some vicious fool draw near,
+   That cries, we dream, and swears there’s no such thing,
+      As this chaste love we sing.
+   Peace, Luxury! thou art like one of those
+      Who, being at sea, suppose,
+   Because they move, the continent doth so:
+      No, Vice, we let thee know
+   Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows’ wings do fly,
+      Turtles can chastely die;
+   And yet (in this t’ express ourselves more clear)
+      We do not number here
+   Such spirits as are only continent,
+      Because lust’s means are spent;
+   Or those who doubt the common mouth of fame,
+      And for their place and name,
+   Cannot so safely sin: their chastity
+      Is mere necessity;
+   Nor mean we those whom vows and conscience
+      Have filled with abstinence:
+   Though we acknowledge who can so abstain,
+      Makes a most blessèd gain;
+   He that for love of goodness hateth ill,
+      Is more crown-worthy still
+   Than he, which for sin’s penalty forbears:
+      His heart sins, though he fears.
+   But we propose a person like our Dove,
+      Graced with a Phœnix’ love;
+   A beauty of that clear and sparkling light,
+      Would make a day of night,
+   And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys:
+      Whose odorous breath destroys
+   All taste of bitterness, and makes the air
+      As sweet as she is fair.
+   A body so harmoniously composed,
+      As if natùre disclosed
+   All her best symmetry in that one feature!
+      O, so divine a creature
+   Who could be false to? chiefly, when he knows
+      How only she bestows
+   The wealthy treasure of her love on him;
+      Making his fortunes swim
+   In the full flood of her admired perfection?
+      What savage, brute affection,
+   Would not be fearful to offend a dame
+      Of this excelling frame?
+   Much more a noble, and right generous mind,
+      To virtuous moods inclined,
+   That knows the weight of guilt: he will refrain
+      From thoughts of such a strain,
+   And to his sense object this sentence ever,
+      “Man may securely sin, but safely never.”
+
+
+
+AN ELEGY.
+
+
+   THOUGH beauty be the mark of praise,
+      And yours, of whom I sing, be such
+      As not the world can praise too much,
+   Yet is ’t your virtue now I raise.
+
+   A virtue, like allay, so gone
+      Throughout your form, as though that move,
+      And draw, and conquer all men’s love,
+   This subjects you to love of one,
+
+   Wherein you triumph yet: because
+      ’Tis of yourself, and that you use
+      The noblest freedom, not to choose
+   Against or faith, or honour’s laws.
+
+   But who could less expect from you,
+      In whom alone Love lives again?
+      By whom he is restored to men;
+   And kept, and bred, and brought up true?
+
+   His falling temples you have reared,
+      The withered garlands ta’en away;
+      His altars kept from the decay
+   That envy wished, and nature feared;
+
+   And on them burns so chaste a flame,
+      With so much loyalty’s expense,
+      As Love, t’ acquit such excellence,
+   Is gone himself into your name.
+
+   And you are he: the deity
+      To whom all lovers are designed,
+      That would their better objects find;
+   Among which faithful troop am I;
+
+   Who, as an offering at your shrine,
+      Have sung this hymn, and here entreat
+      One spark of your diviner heat
+   To light upon a love of mine;
+
+   Which, if it kindle not, but scant
+      Appear, and that to shortest view,
+      Yet give me leave t’ adore in you
+   What I, in her, am grieved to want.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES
+
+
+{11}  “So live with yourself that you do not know how ill yow mind is
+furnished.”
+
+{12}  Αυτοδίδακτος
+
+{14}  “A Puritan is a Heretical Hypocrite, in whom the conceit of his own
+perspicacity, by which he seems to himself to have observed certain
+errors in a few Church dogmas, has disturbed the balance of his mind, so
+that, excited vehemently by a sacred fury, he fights frenzied against
+civil authority, in the belief that he so pays obedience to God.”
+
+{17a}  Night gives counsel.
+
+{17b}  Plutarch in Life of Alexander.  “Let it not be, O King, that you
+know these things better than I.”
+
+{19a}  “They were not our lords, but our leaders.”
+
+{19b}  “Much of it is left also for those who shall be hereafter.”
+
+{19c}  “No art is discovered at once and absolutely.”
+
+{22}  With a great belly.  Comes de Schortenhien.
+
+{23}  “In all things I have a better wit and courage than good fortune.”
+
+{24a}  “The rich soil exhausts; but labour itself is an aid.”
+
+{24b}  “And the gesticulation is vile.”
+
+{25a}  “An end is to be looked for in every man, an animal most prompt to
+change.”
+
+{25b}  Arts are not shared among heirs.
+
+{31a}  “More loquacious than eloquent; words enough, but little
+wisdom.”—_Sallust_.
+
+{31b}  Repeated in the following Latin.  “The best treasure is in that
+man’s tongue, and he has mighty thanks, who metes out each thing in a few
+words.”—_Hesiod_.
+
+{31c}  _Vid._ Zeuxidis pict. Serm. ad Megabizum.—_Plutarch_.
+
+{32a}  “While the unlearned is silent he may be accounted wise, for he
+has covered by his silence the diseases of his mind.”
+
+{32b}  Taciturnity.
+
+{33a}  “Hold your tongue above all things, after the example of the
+gods.”—_See_ Apuleius.
+
+{33b}  “Press down the lip with the finger.”—Juvenal.
+
+{33c}  Plautus.
+
+{33d}  Trinummus, Act 2, Scen. 4.
+
+{34a}  “It was the lodging of calamity.”—Mart. lib. 1, ep. 85.
+
+{41}  [“Ficta omnia celeriter tanquam flosculi decidunt, nec simulatum
+potest quidquam esse diuturnum.”—Cicero.]
+
+{44a}  Let a Punic sponge go with the book.—Mart. 1. iv. epig. 10.
+
+{47a}  He had to be repressed.
+
+{49a}  A wit-stand.
+
+{49b}  Martial. lib. xi. epig. 91.  That fall over the rough ways and
+high rocks.
+
+{59a}  Sir Thomas More.  Sir Thomas Wiat.  Henry Earl of Surrey.  Sir
+Thomas Chaloner.  Sir Thomas Smith.  Sir Thomas Eliot.  Bishop Gardiner.
+Sir Nicolas Bacon, L.K.  Sir Philip Sidney.  Master Richard Hooker.
+Robert Earl of Essex.  Sir Walter Raleigh.  Sir Henry Savile.  Sir Edwin
+Sandys.  Sir Thomas Egerton, L.C.  Sir Francis Bacon, L.C.
+
+{62a}  “Which will secure a long age for the known writer.”—Horat. _de
+Art. Poetica_.
+
+{66a}  They have poison for their food, even for their dainty.
+
+{74a}  Haud infima ars in principe, ubi lenitas, ubi severitas—plus
+polleat in commune bonum callere.
+
+{74b}  _i.e._, Machiavell.
+
+{81a}  “Censure pardons the crows and vexes the doves.”—Juvenal.
+
+{81b}  “Does not spread his net for the hawk or the kite.”—Plautus.
+
+{93}  Parrhasius.  Eupompus.  Socrates.  Parrhasius.  Clito.  Polygnotus.
+Aglaophon.  Zeuxis.  Parrhasius.  Raphael de Urbino.  Mich.  Angelo
+Buonarotti.  Titian.  Antony de Correg.  Sebast. de Venet.  Julio Romano.
+Andrea Sartorio.
+
+{94}  Plin. lib. 35. c. 2, 5, 6, and 7.  Vitruv. lib. 8 and 7.
+
+{95}  Horat. in “Arte Poet.”
+
+{106a}  Livy, Sallust, Sidney, Donne, Gower, Chaucer, Spenser, Virgil,
+Ennius, Homer, Quintilian, Plautus, Terence.
+
+{110a}  The interpreter of gods and men.
+
+{111a}  Julius Cæsar.  Of words, _see_ Hor. “De Art. Poet.;” Quintil. 1.
+8, “Ludov. Vives,” pp. 6 and 7.
+
+{111b}  A prudent man conveys nothing rashly.
+
+{114a}  That jolt as they fall over the rough places and the rocks.
+
+{116a}  Directness enlightens, obliquity and circumlocution darken.
+
+{117a}  Ocean trembles as if indignant that you quit the land.
+
+{117b}  You might believe that the uprooted Cyclades were floating in.
+
+{118a}  Those armies of the people of Rome that might break through the
+heavens.—Cæsar.  Comment. circa fin.
+
+{124a}  No one can speak rightly unless he apprehends wisely.
+
+{133a}  “Where the discussion of faults is general, no one is injured.”
+
+{133b}  “Gnaw tender little ears with biting truth.”—_Per Sat._ 1.
+
+{133c}  “The wish for remedy is always truer than the hope.”—_Livius_.
+
+{136a}  “Æneas dedicates these arms concerning the conquering
+Greeks.”—_Virg. Æn._ lib. 3.
+
+{136b}  “You buy everything, Castor; the time will come when you will
+sell everything.”—_Martial_, lib. 8, epig. 19.
+
+{136c}  “Cinna wishes to seem poor, and is poor.”
+
+{136d}  “Which is evident in every first song.”
+
+{139a}  “There is a god within us, and when he is stirred we grow warm;
+that spirit comes from heavenly realms.”
+
+{146a}  “If it were allowable for immortals to weep for mortals, the
+Muses would weep for the poet Nævius; since he is handed to the chamber
+of Orcus, they have forgotten how to speak Latin at Rome.”
+
+{148a}  “No one has judged poets less happily than he who wrote about
+them.”—_Senec. de Brev. Vit_, cap. 13, et epist. 88.
+
+{149a}  Heins, de Sat. 265.
+
+{149b}  Pag. 267.
+
+{149c}  Pag. 270. 271.
+
+{149d}  Pag. 273, _et seq._
+
+{149e}  Pag. in comm. 153, _et seq._
+
+{160a}  “And which jolt as they fall over the rough uneven road and high
+rocks.”—_Martial_, lib. xi. epig. 91.
+
+
+
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Discoveries Made Upon Men and Matter, by Ben
+Jonson, Edited by Henry Morley
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Discoveries Made Upon Men and Matter
+       and Some Poems
+
+
+Author: Ben Jonson
+
+Editor: Henry Morley
+
+Release Date: August 14, 2014  [eBook #5134]
+[This file was first posted on May 10, 2002]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND
+MATTER***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1892 Cassell &amp; Company edition by
+David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall">CASSELL&rsquo;S NATIONAL LIBRARY.</span></p>
+
+<div class="gapshortline">&nbsp;</div>
+<h1><span class="smcap">Discoveries</span><br />
+<i>MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER</i><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">AND</span><br />
+SOME POEMS</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br
+/>
+BEN JOHNSON.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/tpb.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Decorative graphic"
+title=
+"Decorative graphic"
+src="images/tps.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL &amp; COMPANY, <span
+class="smcap">Limited</span>:<br />
+<span class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span
+class="GutSmall">, </span><span class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS &amp;
+MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">1892.</span></p>
+<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Ben Jonson&rsquo;s</span>
+&ldquo;Discoveries&rdquo; are, as he says in the few Latin words
+prefixed to them, &ldquo;A wood&mdash;Sylva&mdash;of things and
+thoughts, in Greek &lsquo;&#8021;&lambda;&eta;&rsquo;&rdquo;
+[which has for its first meaning material, but is also applied
+peculiarly to kinds of wood, and to a wood], &ldquo;from the
+multiplicity and variety of the material contained in it.&nbsp;
+For, as we are commonly used to call the infinite mixed multitude
+of growing trees a wood, so the ancients gave the name of
+Sylv&aelig;&mdash;Timber Trees&mdash;to books of theirs in which
+small works of various and diverse matter were promiscuously
+brought together.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In this little book we have some of the best thoughts of one
+of the most vigorous minds that ever added to the strength of
+English literature.&nbsp; The songs added are a part of what Ben
+Jonson called his &ldquo;Underwoods.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ben Jonson was of a north-country family from the Annan
+district that produced Thomas Carlyle.&nbsp; His father was
+ruined by religious persecution in the reign of Mary, became a
+preacher in Elizabeth&rsquo;s reign, and died a month before the
+poet&rsquo;s birth in 1573.&nbsp; Ben Jonson, therefore, was
+about nine years younger than Shakespeare, and he survived
+Shakespeare about twenty-one years, dying in August, 1637.&nbsp;
+Next to Shakespeare Ben Jonson was, in his own different way, the
+man of most mark in the story of the English drama.&nbsp; His
+mother, left poor, married again.&nbsp; Her second husband was a
+bricklayer, or small builder, and they lived for a time near
+Charing Cross in Hartshorn Lane.&nbsp; Ben Jonson was taught at
+the parish school of St. Martin&rsquo;s till he was discovered by
+William Camden, the historian.&nbsp; Camden was then second
+master in Westminster School.&nbsp; He procured for young Ben an
+admission into his school, and there laid firm foundations for
+that scholarship which the poet extended afterwards by private
+study until his learning grew to be sworn-brother to his wit.</p>
+<p>Ben Jonson began the world poor.&nbsp; He worked for a very
+short time in his step-father&rsquo;s business.&nbsp; He
+volunteered to the wars in the Low Countries.&nbsp; He came home
+again, and joined the players.&nbsp; Before the end of
+Elizabeth&rsquo;s reign he had written three or four plays, in
+which he showed a young and ardent zeal for setting the world to
+rights, together with that high sense of the poet&rsquo;s calling
+which put lasting force into his work.&nbsp; He poured contempt
+on those who frittered life away.&nbsp; He urged on the
+poetasters and the mincing courtiers, who set their hearts on
+top-knots and affected movements of their lips and
+legs:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;That these vain joys in which their
+wills consume<br />
+Such powers of wit and soul as are of force<br />
+To raise their beings to eternity,<br />
+May be converted on works fitting men;<br />
+And for the practice of a forc&eacute;d look,<br />
+An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,<br />
+Study the native frame of a true heart,<br />
+An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,<br />
+And spirit that may conform them actually<br />
+To God&rsquo;s high figures, which they have in power.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ben Jonson&rsquo;s genius was producing its best work in the
+earlier years of the reign of James I.&nbsp; His <i>Volpone</i>,
+the <i>Silent Woman</i>, and the <i>Alchemist</i> first appeared
+side by side with some of the ripest works of Shakespeare in the
+years from 1605 to 1610.&nbsp; In the latter part of
+James&rsquo;s reign he produced masques for the Court, and turned
+with distaste from the public stage.&nbsp; When Charles I. became
+king, Ben Jonson was weakened in health by a paralytic
+stroke.&nbsp; He returned to the stage for a short time through
+necessity, but found his best friends in the best of the young
+poets of the day.&nbsp; These looked up to him as their father
+and their guide.&nbsp; Their own best efforts seemed best to them
+when they had won Ben Jonson&rsquo;s praise.&nbsp; They valued
+above all passing honours man could give the words, &ldquo;My
+son,&rdquo; in the old poet&rsquo;s greeting, which, as they
+said, &ldquo;sealed them of the tribe of Ben.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: right">H. M.</p>
+<h2>SYLVA</h2>
+<p><i>Rerum et sententiarum quasi &#8029;&lambda;&eta; dicta a
+multiplici materia et varietate in iis content&aacute;</i>.&nbsp;
+<i>Quemadmod&ugrave;m enim vulg&ograve; solemus infinitam arborum
+nascentium indiscriminatim multitudinem Sylvam dicere: it&agrave;
+etiam libros suos in quibus vari&aelig; et divers&aelig;
+materi&aelig; opuscula temere congesta erant</i>, Sylvas
+<i>appellabant antiqui</i>: Timber-trees.</p>
+<h2>TIMBER;<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">OR,</span><br />
+DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER,<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">AS THEY HAVE FLOWED OUT OF HIS DAILY
+READINGS,</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">OR HAD THEIR REFLUX TO HIS
+PECULIAR</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">NOTION OF THE TIMES.</span></h2>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align: center"><i>Tecum habita</i>,
+<i>ut n&ocirc;ris quam sit tibi curta supellex</i> <a
+name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11"
+class="citation">[11]</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Pers</span>.
+Sat. 4.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Fortuna</i>.&mdash;Ill fortune never crushed that man whom
+good fortune deceived not.&nbsp; I therefore have counselled my
+friends never to trust to her fairer side, though she seemed to
+make peace with them; but to place all things she gave them, so
+as she might ask them again without their trouble, she might take
+them from them, not pull them: to keep always a distance between
+her and themselves.&nbsp; He knows not his own strength that hath
+not met adversity.&nbsp; Heaven prepares good men with crosses;
+but no ill can happen to a good man.&nbsp; Contraries are not
+mixed.&nbsp; Yet that which happens to any man may to every
+man.&nbsp; But it is in his reason, what he accounts it and will
+make it.</p>
+<p><i>Casus</i>.&mdash;Change into extremity is very frequent and
+easy.&nbsp; As when a beggar suddenly grows rich, he commonly
+becomes a prodigal; for, to obscure his former obscurity, he puts
+on riot and excess.</p>
+<p><i>Consilia</i>.&mdash;No man is so foolish but may give
+another good counsel sometimes; and no man is so wise but may
+easily err, if he will take no others&rsquo; counsel but his
+own.&nbsp; But very few men are wise by their own counsel, or
+learned by their own teaching.&nbsp; For he that was only taught
+by himself <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12"
+class="citation">[12]</a> had a fool to his master.</p>
+<p><i>Fama</i>.&mdash;A Fame that is wounded to the world would
+be better cured by another&rsquo;s apology than its own: for few
+can apply medicines well themselves.&nbsp; Besides, the man that
+is once hated, both his good and his evil deeds oppress
+him.&nbsp; He is not easily emergent.</p>
+<p><i>Negotia</i>.&mdash;In great affairs it is a work of
+difficulty to please all.&nbsp; And ofttimes we lose the
+occasions of carrying a business well and thoroughly by our too
+much haste.&nbsp; For passions are spiritual rebels, and raise
+sedition against the understanding.</p>
+<p><i>Amor patri&aelig;</i>.&mdash;There is a necessity all men
+should love their country: he that professeth the contrary may be
+delighted with his words, but his heart is there.</p>
+<p><i>Ingenia</i>.&mdash;Natures that are hardened to evil you
+shall sooner break than make straight; they are like poles that
+are crooked and dry, there is no attempting them.</p>
+<p><i>Applausus</i>.&mdash;We praise the things we hear with much
+more willingness than those we see, because we envy the present
+and reverence the past; thinking ourselves instructed by the one,
+and overlaid by the other.</p>
+<p><i>Opinio</i>.&mdash;Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and
+imperfect thing; settled in the imagination, but never arriving
+at the understanding, there to obtain the tincture of
+reason.&nbsp; We labour with it more than truth.&nbsp; There is
+much more holds us than presseth us.&nbsp; An ill fact is one
+thing, an ill fortune is another; yet both oftentimes sway us
+alike, by the error of our thinking.</p>
+<p><i>Impostura</i>.&mdash;Many men believe not themselves what
+they would persuade others; and less do the things which they
+would impose on others; but least of all know what they
+themselves most confidently boast.&nbsp; Only they set the sign
+of the cross over their outer doors, and sacrifice to their gut
+and their groin in their inner closets.</p>
+<p><i>Jactura vit&aelig;</i>.&mdash;What a deal of cold business
+doth a man misspend the better part of life in! in scattering
+compliments, tendering visits, gathering and venting news,
+following feasts and plays, making a little winter-love in a dark
+corner.</p>
+<p>Hypocrita.&mdash;<i>Puritanus Hypocrita est
+H&aelig;reticus</i>, <i>quem opinio propri&aelig;
+perspicaci&aelig;</i>, <i>qu&acirc; sibi videtur</i>, <i>cum
+paucis in Ecclesi&acirc; dogmatibus errores quosdam
+animadvertisse</i>, <i>de statu mentis deturbavit: unde sacro
+furore percitus</i>, <i>phrenetice pugnat contra magistratus</i>,
+<i>sic ratus obedientiam pr&aelig;stare Deo</i>. <a
+name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14"
+class="citation">[14]</a></p>
+<p><i>Mutua auxilia</i>.&mdash;Learning needs rest: sovereignty
+gives it.&nbsp; Sovereignty needs counsel: learning affords
+it.&nbsp; There is such a consociation of offices between the
+prince and whom his favour breeds, that they may help to sustain
+his power as he their knowledge.&nbsp; It is the greatest part of
+his liberality, his favour; and from whom doth he hear discipline
+more willingly, or the arts discoursed more gladly, than from
+those whom his own bounty and benefits have made able and
+faithful?</p>
+<p><i>Cognit. univers</i>.&mdash;In being able to counsel others,
+a man must be furnished with a universal store in himself, to the
+knowledge of all nature&mdash;that is, the matter and seed-plot:
+there are the seats of all argument and invention.&nbsp; But
+especially you must be cunning in the nature of man: there is the
+variety of things which are as the elements and letters, which
+his art and wisdom must rank and order to the present
+occasion.&nbsp; For we see not all letters in single words, nor
+all places in particular discourses.&nbsp; That cause seldom
+happens wherein a man will use all arguments.</p>
+<p><i>Consiliarii adjunct</i>.&nbsp; <i>Probitas</i>,
+<i>Sapientia</i>.&mdash;The two chief things that give a man
+reputation in counsel are the opinion of his honesty and the
+opinion of his wisdom: the authority of those two will persuade
+when the same counsels uttered by other persons less qualified
+are of no efficacy or working.</p>
+<p><i>Vita recta</i>.&mdash;Wisdom without honesty is mere craft
+and cozenage.&nbsp; And therefore the reputation of honesty must
+first be gotten, which cannot be but by living well.&nbsp; A good
+life is a main argument.</p>
+
+<p><i>Obsequentia</i>.&mdash;<i>Humanitas</i>.&mdash;<i>Solicitudo</i>.&mdash;Next
+a good life, to beget love in the persons we counsel, by
+dissembling our knowledge of ability in ourselves, and avoiding
+all suspicion of arrogance, ascribing all to their instruction,
+as an ambassador to his master, or a subject to his sovereign;
+seasoning all with humanity and sweetness, only expressing care
+and solicitude.&nbsp; And not to counsel rashly, or on the
+sudden, but with advice and meditation.&nbsp; (<i>Dat nox
+consilium</i>. <a name="citation17a"></a><a href="#footnote17a"
+class="citation">[17a]</a>)&nbsp; For many foolish things fall
+from wise men, if they speak in haste or be extemporal.&nbsp; It
+therefore behoves the giver of counsel to be circumspect;
+especially to beware of those with whom he is not thoroughly
+acquainted, lest any spice of rashness, folly, or self-love
+appear, which will be marked by new persons and men of experience
+in affairs.</p>
+<p><i>Modestia</i>.&mdash;<i>Parrhesia</i>.&mdash;And to the
+prince, or his superior, to behave himself modestly and with
+respect.&nbsp; Yet free from flattery or empire.&nbsp; Not with
+insolence or precept; but as the prince were already furnished
+with the parts he should have, especially in affairs of
+state.&nbsp; For in other things they will more easily suffer
+themselves to be taught or reprehended: they will not willingly
+contend, but hear, with Alexander, the answer the musician gave
+him: <i>Absit</i>, <i>o rex</i>, <i>ut tu meli&ugrave;s h&aelig;c
+scias</i>, <i>qu&agrave;m ego</i>. <a name="citation17b"></a><a
+href="#footnote17b" class="citation">[17b]</a></p>
+<p><i>Perspicuitas</i>.&mdash;<i>Elegantia</i>.&mdash;A man
+should so deliver himself to the nature of the subject whereof he
+speaks, that his hearer may take knowledge of his discipline with
+some delight; and so apparel fair and good matter, that the
+studious of elegancy be not defrauded; redeem arts from their
+rough and braky seats, where they lay hid and overgrown with
+thorns, to a pure, open, and flowery light, where they may take
+the eye and be taken by the hand.</p>
+<p><i>Natura non eff&aelig;ta</i>.&mdash;I cannot think Nature is
+so spent and decayed that she can bring forth nothing worth her
+former years.&nbsp; She is always the same, like herself; and
+when she collects her strength is abler still.&nbsp; Men are
+decayed, and studies: she is not.</p>
+<p><i>Non nimi&ugrave;m credendum antiquitati</i>.&mdash;I know
+nothing can conduce more to letters than to examine the writings
+of the ancients, and not to rest in their sole authority, or take
+all upon trust from them, provided the plagues of judging and
+pronouncing against them be away; such as are envy, bitterness,
+precipitation, impudence, and scurrilous scoffing.&nbsp; For to
+all the observations of the ancients we have our own experience,
+which if we will use and apply, we have better means to
+pronounce.&nbsp; It is true they opened the gates, and made the
+way that went before us, but as guides, not commanders: <i>Non
+domini nostri</i>, <i>sed duces fu&ecirc;re</i>. <a
+name="citation19a"></a><a href="#footnote19a"
+class="citation">[19a]</a>&nbsp;&nbsp; Truth lies open to all; it
+is no man&rsquo;s several.&nbsp; <i>Patet omnibus veritas</i>;
+<i>nondum est occupata</i>.&nbsp; <i>Multum ex ill&acirc;</i>,
+<i>etiam futuris relicta est</i>. <a name="citation19b"></a><a
+href="#footnote19b" class="citation">[19b]</a></p>
+<p><i>Dissentire licet</i>, <i>sed cum ratione</i>.&mdash;If in
+some things I dissent from others, whose wit, industry,
+diligence, and judgment, I look up at and admire, let me not
+therefore hear presently of ingratitude and rashness.&nbsp; For I
+thank those that have taught me, and will ever; but yet dare not
+think the scope of their labour and inquiry was to envy their
+posterity what they also could add and find out.</p>
+<p><i>Non mihi credendum sed veritati</i>.&mdash;If I err, pardon
+me: <i>Nulla ars simul et inventa est et absoluta</i>. <a
+name="citation19c"></a><a href="#footnote19c"
+class="citation">[19c]</a>&nbsp; I do not desire to be equal to
+those that went before; but to have my reason examined with
+theirs, and so much faith to be given them, or me, as those shall
+evict.&nbsp; I am neither author nor fautor of any sect.&nbsp; I
+will have no man addict himself to me; but if I have anything
+right, defend it as Truth&rsquo;s, not mine, save as it conduceth
+to a common good.&nbsp; It profits not me to have any man fence
+or fight for me, to flourish, or take my side.&nbsp; Stand for
+truth, and &rsquo;tis enough.</p>
+<p><i>Scienti&aelig; liberales</i>.&mdash;Arts that respect the
+mind were ever reputed nobler than those that serve the body,
+though we less can be without them, as tillage, spinning,
+weaving, building, &amp;c., without which we could scarce sustain
+life a day.&nbsp; But these were the works of every hand; the
+other of the brain only, and those the most generous and exalted
+wits and spirits, that cannot rest or acquiesce.&nbsp; The mind
+of man is still fed with labour: <i>Opere pascitur</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Non vulgi sunt</i>.&mdash;There is a more secret cause, and
+the power of liberal studies lies more hid than that it can be
+wrought out by profane wits.&nbsp; It is not every man&rsquo;s
+way to hit.&nbsp; There are men, I confess, that set the carat
+and value upon things as they love them; but science is not every
+man&rsquo;s mistress.&nbsp; It is as great a spite to be praised
+in the wrong place, and by a wrong person, as can be done to a
+noble nature.</p>
+<p><i>Honesta ambitio</i>.&mdash;If divers men seek fame or
+honour by divers ways, so both be honest, neither is to be
+blamed; but they that seek immortality are not only worthy of
+love, but of praise.</p>
+<p><i>Maritus improbus</i>.&mdash;He hath a delicate wife, a fair
+fortune, a family to go to and be welcome; yet he had rather be
+drunk with mine host and the fiddlers of such a town, than go
+home.</p>
+<p><i>Afflictio pia magistra</i>.&mdash;Affliction teacheth a
+wicked person some time to pray: prosperity never.</p>
+<p><i>Deploratis facilis descensus Averni</i>.&mdash;<i>The devil
+take all</i>.&mdash;Many might go to heaven with half the labour
+they go to hell, if they would venture their industry the right
+way; but &ldquo;The devil take all!&rdquo; quoth he that was
+choked in the mill-dam, with his four last words in his
+mouth.</p>
+<p><i>&AElig;gidius cursu superat</i>.&mdash;A cripple in the way
+out-travels a footman or a post out of the way.</p>
+<p><i>Prodigo nummi nauci</i>.&mdash;Bags of money to a prodigal
+person are the same that cherry-stones are with some boys, and so
+thrown away.</p>
+<p><i>Munda et sordida</i>.&mdash;A woman, the more curious she
+is about her face is commonly the more careless about her
+house.</p>
+<p><i>Debitum deploratum</i>.&mdash;Of this spilt water there is
+a little to be gathered up: it is a desperate debt.</p>
+<p><i>Latro sesquipedalis</i>.&mdash;The thief <a
+name="citation22"></a><a href="#footnote22"
+class="citation">[22]</a> that had a longing at the gallows to
+commit one robbery more before he was hanged.</p>
+<p>And like the German lord, when he went out of Newgate into the
+cart, took order to have his arms set up in his last herborough:
+said was he taken and committed upon suspicion of treason, no
+witness appearing against him; but the judges entertained him
+most civilly, discoursed with him, offered him the courtesy of
+the rack; but he confessed, &amp;c.</p>
+<p><i>Calumni&aelig; fructus</i>.&mdash;I am beholden to calumny,
+that she hath so endeavoured and taken pains to belie me.&nbsp;
+It shall make me set a surer guard on myself, and keep a better
+watch upon my actions.</p>
+<p><i>Impertinens</i>.&mdash;A tedious person is one a man would
+leap a steeple from, gallop down any steep lull to avoid him;
+forsake his meat, sleep, nature itself, with all her benefits, to
+shun him.&nbsp; A mere impertinent; one that touched neither
+heaven nor earth in his discourse.&nbsp; He opened an entry into
+a fair room, but shut it again presently.&nbsp; I spoke to him of
+garlic, he answered asparagus; consulted him of marriage, he
+tells me of hanging, as if they went by one and the same
+destiny.</p>
+<p><i>Bellum scribentium</i>.&mdash;What a sight it is to see
+writers committed together by the ears for ceremonies, syllables,
+points, colons, commas, hyphens, and the like, fighting as for
+their fires and their altars; and angry that none are frighted at
+their noises and loud brayings under their asses&rsquo;
+skins.</p>
+<p>There is hope of getting a fortune without digging in these
+quarries.&nbsp; <i>Sed meliore (in omne) ingenio animoque
+qu&agrave;m fortun&acirc;</i>, <i>sum usus</i>. <a
+name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23"
+class="citation">[23]</a></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pingue solum lassat; sed juvat ipse labor.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation24a"></a><a href="#footnote24a"
+class="citation">[24a]</a></p>
+<p><i>Differentia inter doctos et sciolos</i>.&mdash;Wits made
+out their several expeditions then for the discovery of truth, to
+find out great and profitable knowledges; had their several
+instruments for the disquisition of arts.&nbsp; Now there are
+certain scioli or smatterers that are busy in the skirts and
+outsides of learning, and have scarce anything of solid
+literature to commend them.&nbsp; They may have some edging or
+trimming of a scholar, a welt or so; but it is no more.</p>
+<p><i>Impostorum fucus</i>.&mdash;Imposture is a specious thing,
+yet never worse than when it feigns to be best, and to none
+discovered sooner than the simplest.&nbsp; For truth and goodness
+are plain and open; but imposture is ever ashamed of the
+light.</p>
+<p><i>Icunculorum motio</i>.&mdash;A puppet-play must be shadowed
+and seen in the dark; for draw the curtain, <i>et sordet
+gesticulatio</i>. <a name="citation24b"></a><a
+href="#footnote24b" class="citation">[24b]</a></p>
+<p><i>Principes et administri</i>.&mdash;There is a great
+difference in the understanding of some princes, as in the
+quality of their ministers about them.&nbsp; Some would dress
+their masters in gold, pearl, and all true jewels of majesty;
+others furnish them with feathers, bells, and ribands, and are
+therefore esteemed the fitter servants.&nbsp; But they are ever
+good men that must make good the times; if the men be naught, the
+times will be such.&nbsp; <i>Finis exspectandus est in unoquoque
+hominum</i>; <i>animali ad mutationem promptissmo</i>. <a
+name="citation25a"></a><a href="#footnote25a"
+class="citation">[25a]</a></p>
+<p><i>Scitum Hispanicum</i>.&mdash;It is a quick saying with the
+Spaniards, <i>Artes inter h&aelig;redes non dividi</i>. <a
+name="citation25b"></a><a href="#footnote25b"
+class="citation">[25b]</a>&nbsp; Yet these have inherited their
+fathers&rsquo; lying, and they brag of it.&nbsp; He is a
+narrow-minded man that affects a triumph in any glorious study;
+but to triumph in a lie, and a lie themselves have forged, is
+frontless.&nbsp; Folly often goes beyond her bounds; but
+Impudence knows none.</p>
+<p><i>Non nova res livor</i>.&mdash;Envy is no new thing, nor was
+it born only in our times.&nbsp; The ages past have brought it
+forth, and the coming ages will.&nbsp; So long as there are men
+fit for it, <i>quorum odium virtute relict&acirc; placet</i>, it
+will never be wanting.&nbsp; It is a barbarous envy, to take from
+those men&rsquo;s virtues which, because thou canst not arrive
+at, thou impotently despairest to imitate.&nbsp; Is it a crime in
+me that I know that which others had not yet known but from me?
+or that I am the author of many things which never would have
+come in thy thought but that I taught them?&nbsp; It is new but a
+foolish way you have found out, that whom you cannot equal or
+come near in doing, you would destroy or ruin with evil speaking;
+as if you had bound both your wits and natures &rsquo;prentices
+to slander, and then came forth the best artificers when you
+could form the foulest calumnies.</p>
+<p><i>Nil gratius protervo lib</i>.&mdash;Indeed nothing is of
+more credit or request now than a petulant paper, or scoffing
+verses; and it is but convenient to the times and manners we live
+with, to have then the worst writings and studies flourish when
+the best begin to be despised.&nbsp; Ill arts begin where good
+end.</p>
+<p><i>Jam liter&aelig; sordent</i>.&mdash;<i>Pastus hodiern.
+ingen</i>.&mdash;The time was when men would learn and study good
+things, not envy those that had them.&nbsp; Then men were had in
+price for learning; now letters only make men vile.&nbsp; He is
+upbraidingly called a poet, as if it were a contemptible
+nick-name: but the professors, indeed, have made the learning
+cheap&mdash;railing and tinkling rhymers, whose writings the
+vulgar more greedily read, as being taken with the scurrility and
+petulancy of such wits.&nbsp; He shall not have a reader now
+unless he jeer and lie.&nbsp; It is the food of men&rsquo;s
+natures; the diet of the times; gallants cannot sleep else.&nbsp;
+The writer must lie and the gentle reader rests happy to hear the
+worthiest works misinterpreted, the clearest actions obscured,
+the innocentest life traduced: and in such a licence of lying, a
+field so fruitful of slanders, how can there be matter wanting to
+his laughter?&nbsp; Hence comes the epidemical infection; for how
+can they escape the contagion of the writings, whom the virulency
+of the calumnies hath not staved off from reading?</p>
+<p><i>Sed seculi morbus</i>.&mdash;Nothing doth more invite a
+greedy reader than an unlooked-for subject.&nbsp; And what more
+unlooked-for than to see a person of an unblamed life made
+ridiculous or odious by the artifice of lying?&nbsp; But it is
+the disease of the age; and no wonder if the world, growing old,
+begin to be infirm: old age itself is a disease.&nbsp; It is long
+since the sick world began to dote and talk idly: would she had
+but doted still! but her dotage is now broke forth into a
+madness, and become a mere frenzy.</p>
+<p><i>Alastoris malitia</i>.&mdash;This Alastor, who hath left
+nothing unsearched or unassailed by his impudent and licentious
+lying in his aguish writings (for he was in his cold quaking fit
+all the while), what hath he done more than a troublesome base
+cur? barked and made a noise afar off; had a fool or two to spit
+in his mouth, and cherish him with a musty bone?&nbsp; But they
+are rather enemies of my fame than me, these barkers.</p>
+<p><i>Mali Choragi fuere</i>.&mdash;It is an art to have so much
+judgment as to apparel a lie well, to give it a good dressing;
+that though the nakedness would show deformed and odious, the
+suiting of it might draw their readers.&nbsp; Some love any
+strumpet, be she never so shop-like or meretricious, in good
+clothes.&nbsp; But these, nature could not have formed them
+better to destroy their own testimony and overthrow their
+calumny.</p>
+<p><i>Hear-say news</i>.&mdash;That an elephant, in 1630, came
+hither ambassador from the Great Mogul, who could both write and
+read, and was every day allowed twelve cast of bread, twenty
+quarts of Canary sack, besides nuts and almonds the
+citizens&rsquo; wives sent him.&nbsp; That he had a Spanish boy
+to his interpreter, and his chief negociation was to confer or
+practise with Archy, the principal fool of state, about stealing
+hence Windsor Castle and carrying it away on his back if he
+can.</p>
+<p><i>Lingua sapientis</i>, <i>potius qu&acirc;m
+loquentis</i>.&mdash;A wise tongue should not be licentious and
+wandering; but moved and, as it were, governed with certain reins
+from the heart and bottom of the breast: and it was excellently
+said of that philosopher, that there was a wall or parapet of
+teeth set in our mouth, to restrain the petulancy of our words;
+that the rashness of talking should not only be retarded by the
+guard and watch of our heart, but be fenced in and defended by
+certain strengths placed in the mouth itself, and within the
+lips.&nbsp; But you shall see some so abound with words, without
+any seasoning or taste of matter, in so profound a security, as
+while they are speaking, for the most part they confess to speak
+they know not what.</p>
+<p>Of the two (if either were to be wished) I would rather have a
+plain downright wisdom, than a foolish and affected
+eloquence.&nbsp; For what is so furious and Bedlam like as a vain
+sound of chosen and excellent words, without any subject of
+sentence or science mixed?</p>
+<p><i>Optanda</i>.&mdash;<i>Thersites Homeri</i>.&mdash;Whom the
+disease of talking still once possesseth, he can never hold his
+peace.&nbsp; Nay, rather than he will not discourse he will hire
+men to hear him.&nbsp; And so heard, not hearkened unto, he comes
+off most times like a mountebank, that when he hath praised his
+medicines, finds none will take them, or trust him.&nbsp; He is
+like Homer&rsquo;s <i>Thersites</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#902;&mu;&epsilon;&tau;&rho;&omicron;&epsilon;&pi;&eta;&sigmaf;,
+
+&alpha;&kappa;&rho;&iota;&tau;&#972;&mu;&upsilon;&theta;&omicron;&sigmaf;;
+speaking without judgement or measure.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Loquax magis, qu&agrave;m facundus,<br
+/>
+Satis loquenti&aelig;, sapienti&aelig; parum.<a
+name="citation31a"></a><a href="#footnote31a"
+class="citation">[31a]</a><br />
+&Gamma;&lambda;&omega;&sigma;&sigma;&eta;&sigmaf;
+&tau;&omicron;&iota;
+&theta;&eta;&sigma;&alpha;&upsilon;&rho;&omicron;&sigmaf;
+&epsilon;&nu;
+&alpha;&nu;&theta;&rho;&omega;&pi;&omicron;&iota;&sigma;&iota;&nu;
+&alpha;&rho;&iota;&sigma;&tau;&omicron;&sigmaf;<br />
+&phi;&epsilon;&iota;&delta;&omega;&lambda;&eta;&sigmaf;,
+&pi;&lambda;&epsilon;&iota;&sigma;&tau;&eta; &delta;&epsilon;
+&chi;&alpha;&rho;&iota;&sigmaf; &kappa;&alpha;&tau;&alpha;
+&mu;&epsilon;&tau;&rho;&omicron;&nu;
+&iota;&omicron;&upsilon;&sigma;&eta;&sigmaf;. <a
+name="citation31b"></a><a href="#footnote31b"
+class="citation">[31b]</a><br />
+Optimus est homini lingu&aelig; thesaurus, et ingens<br />
+Gratia, qu&aelig; parcis mensurat singula verbis.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Homeri Ulysses</i>.&mdash;<i>Demacatus
+Plutarchi</i>.&mdash;Ulysses, in Homer, is made a long-thinking
+man before he speaks; and Epaminondas is celebrated by Pindar to
+be a man that, though he knew much, yet he spoke but
+little.&nbsp; Demacatus, when on the bench he was long silent and
+said nothing, one asking him if it were folly in him, or want of
+language, he answered, &ldquo;A fool could never hold his
+peace.&rdquo; <a name="citation31c"></a><a href="#footnote31c"
+class="citation">[31c]</a>&nbsp; For too much talking is ever the
+index of a fool.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Dum tacet indoctus, poterit cordatus
+haberi;<br />
+Is morbos animi namque tacendo tegit.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation32a"></a><a href="#footnote32a"
+class="citation">[32a]</a></p>
+<p>Nor is that worthy speech of Zeno the philosopher to be passed
+over with the note of ignorance; who being invited to a feast in
+Athens, where a great prince&rsquo;s ambassadors were
+entertained, and was the only person that said nothing at the
+table; one of them with courtesy asked him, &ldquo;What shall we
+return from thee, Zeno, to the prince our master, if he asks us
+of thee?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he replied,
+&ldquo;more but that you found an old man in Athens that knew to
+be silent amongst his cups.&rdquo;&nbsp; It was near a miracle to
+see an old man silent, since talking is the disease of age; but
+amongst cups makes it fully a wonder.</p>
+<p><i>Argute dictum</i>.&mdash;It was wittily said upon one that
+was taken for a great and grave man so long as he held his peace,
+&ldquo;This man might have been a counsellor of state, till he
+spoke; but having spoken, not the beadle of the
+ward.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&Epsilon;&chi;&epsilon;&mu;&upsilon;&theta;&iota;&alpha;. <a
+name="citation32b"></a><a href="#footnote32b"
+class="citation">[32b]</a>&nbsp; Pytag. qu&agrave;m
+laudabilis!&nbsp;
+&gamma;&lambda;&omega;&sigma;&sigma;&eta;&sigmaf;
+&pi;&rho;&omicron; &tau;&omega;&nu;
+&alpha;&lambda;&lambda;&omega;&nu;
+&kappa;&rho;&alpha;&tau;&epsilon;&iota;,
+&theta;&epsilon;&omicron;&iota;&sigmaf;
+&epsilon;&pi;&omicron;&mu;&epsilon;&nu;&omicron;&sigmaf;.&nbsp;
+Linguam cohibe, pr&aelig; aliis omnibus, ad deorum exemplum. <a
+name="citation33a"></a><a href="#footnote33a"
+class="citation">[33a]</a>&nbsp; Digito compesce labellum. <a
+name="citation33b"></a><a href="#footnote33b"
+class="citation">[33b]</a></p>
+<p><i>Acutius cernuntur vitia quam virtutes</i>.&mdash;There is
+almost no man but he sees clearlier and sharper the vices in a
+speaker, than the virtues.&nbsp; And there are many, that with
+more ease will find fault with what is spoken foolishly than can
+give allowance to that wherein you are wise silently.&nbsp; The
+treasure of a fool is always in his tongue, said the witty comic
+poet; <a name="citation33c"></a><a href="#footnote33c"
+class="citation">[33c]</a> and it appears not in anything more
+than in that nation, whereof one, when he had got the inheritance
+of an unlucky old grange, would needs sell it; <a
+name="citation33d"></a><a href="#footnote33d"
+class="citation">[33d]</a> and to draw buyers proclaimed the
+virtues of it.&nbsp; Nothing ever thrived on it, saith he.&nbsp;
+No owner of it ever died in his bed; some hung, some drowned
+themselves; some were banished, some starved; the trees were all
+blasted; the swine died of the measles, the cattle of the
+murrain, the sheep of the rot; they that stood were ragged, bare,
+and bald as your hand; nothing was ever reared there, not a
+duckling, or a goose.&nbsp; <i>Hospitium fuerat calamitatis</i>.
+<a name="citation34a"></a><a href="#footnote34a"
+class="citation">[34a]</a>&nbsp; Was not this man like to sell
+it?</p>
+<p><i>Vulgi expectatio</i>.&mdash;Expectation of the vulgar is
+more drawn and held with newness than goodness; we see it in
+fencers, in players, in poets, in preachers, in all where fame
+promiseth anything; so it be new, though never so naught and
+depraved, they run to it, and are taken.&nbsp; Which shews, that
+the only decay or hurt of the best men&rsquo;s reputation with
+the people is, their wits have out-lived the people&rsquo;s
+palates.&nbsp; They have been too much or too long a feast.</p>
+<p><i>Claritas patri&aelig;</i>.&mdash;Greatness of name in the
+father oft-times helps not forth, but overwhelms the son; they
+stand too near one another.&nbsp; The shadow kills the growth: so
+much, that we see the grandchild come more and oftener to be heir
+of the first, than doth the second: he dies between; the
+possession is the third&rsquo;s.</p>
+<p><i>Eloquentia</i>.&mdash;Eloquence is a great and diverse
+thing: nor did she yet ever favour any man so much as to become
+wholly his.&nbsp; He is happy that can arrive to any degree of
+her grace.&nbsp; Yet there are who prove themselves masters of
+her, and absolute lords; but I believe they may mistake their
+evidence: for it is one thing to be eloquent in the schools, or
+in the hall; another at the bar, or in the pulpit.&nbsp; There is
+a difference between mooting and pleading; between fencing and
+fighting.&nbsp; To make arguments in my study, and confute them,
+is easy; where I answer myself, not an adversary.&nbsp; So I can
+see whole volumes dispatched by the umbratical doctors on all
+sides: but draw these forth into the just lists: let them appear
+<i>sub dio</i>, and they are changed with the place, like bodies
+bred in the shade; they cannot suffer the sun or a shower, nor
+bear the open air; they scarce can find themselves, that they
+were wont to domineer so among their auditors: but indeed I would
+no more choose a rhetorician for reigning in a school, than I
+would a pilot for rowing in a pond.</p>
+<p><i>Amor et odium</i>.&mdash;Love that is ignorant, and hatred,
+have almost the same ends: many foolish lovers wish the same to
+their friends, which their enemies would: as to wish a friend
+banished, that they might accompany him in exile; or some great
+want, that they might relieve him; or a disease, that they might
+sit by him.&nbsp; They make a causeway to their country by
+injury, as if it were not honester to do nothing than to seek a
+way to do good by a mischief.</p>
+<p><i>Injuria</i>.&mdash;Injuries do not extinguish courtesies:
+they only suffer them not to appear fair.&nbsp; For a man that
+doth me an injury after a courtesy, takes not away that courtesy,
+but defaces it: as he that writes other verses upon my verses,
+takes not away the first letters, but hides them.</p>
+<p><i>Beneficia</i>.&mdash;Nothing is a courtesy unless it be
+meant us; and that friendly and lovingly.&nbsp; We owe no thanks
+to rivers, that they carry our boats; or winds, that they be
+favouring and fill our sails; or meats, that they be
+nourishing.&nbsp; For these are what they are necessarily.&nbsp;
+Horses carry us, trees shade us, but they know it not.&nbsp; It
+is true, some men may receive a courtesy and not know it; but
+never any man received it from him that knew it not.&nbsp; Many
+men have been cured of diseases by accidents; but they were not
+remedies.&nbsp; I myself have known one helped of an ague by
+falling into a water; another whipped out of a fever; but no man
+would ever use these for medicines.&nbsp; It is the mind, and not
+the event, that distinguisheth the courtesy from wrong.&nbsp; My
+adversary may offend the judge with his pride and impertinences,
+and I win my cause; but he meant it not to me as a
+courtesy.&nbsp; I scaped pirates by being shipwrecked; was the
+wreck a benefit therefore?&nbsp; No; the doing of courtesies
+aright is the mixing of the respects for his own sake and for
+mine.&nbsp; He that doeth them merely for his own sake is like
+one that feeds his cattle to sell them; he hath his horse well
+dressed for Smithfield.</p>
+<p><i>Valor rerum</i>.&mdash;The price of many things is far
+above what they are bought and sold for.&nbsp; Life and health,
+which are both inestimable, we have of the physician; as learning
+and knowledge, the true tillage of the mind, from our
+schoolmasters.&nbsp; But the fees of the one or the salary of the
+other never answer the value of what we received, but served to
+gratify their labours.</p>
+<p><i>Memoria</i>.&mdash;Memory, of all the powers of the mind,
+is the most delicate and frail; it is the first of our faculties
+that age invades.&nbsp; Seneca, the father, the rhetorician,
+confesseth of himself he had a miraculous one, not only to
+receive but to hold.&nbsp; I myself could, in my youth, have
+repeated all that ever I had made, and so continued till I was
+past forty; since, it is much decayed in me.&nbsp; Yet I can
+repeat whole books that I have read, and poems of some selected
+friends which I have liked to charge my memory with.&nbsp; It was
+wont to be faithful to me; but shaken with age now, and sloth,
+which weakens the strongest abilities, it may perform somewhat,
+but cannot promise much.&nbsp; By exercise it is to be made
+better and serviceable.&nbsp; Whatsoever I pawned with it while I
+was young and a boy, it offers me readily, and without stops; but
+what I trust to it now, or have done of later years, it lays up
+more negligently, and oftentimes loses; so that I receive mine
+own (though frequently called for) as if it were new and
+borrowed.&nbsp; Nor do I always find presently from it what I
+seek; but while I am doing another thing, that I laboured for
+will come; and what I sought with trouble will offer itself when
+I am quiet.&nbsp; Now, in some men I have found it as happy as
+Nature, who, whatsoever they read or pen, they can say without
+book presently, as if they did then write in their mind.&nbsp;
+And it is more a wonder in such as have a swift style, for their
+memories are commonly slowest; such as torture their writings,
+and go into council for every word, must needs fix somewhat, and
+make it their own at last, though but through their own
+vexation.</p>
+<p><i>Comit. suffragia</i>.&mdash;Suffrages in Parliament are
+numbered, not weighed; nor can it be otherwise in those public
+councils where nothing is so unequal as the equality; for there,
+how odd soever men&rsquo;s brains or wisdoms are, their power is
+always even and the same.</p>
+<p><i>Stare &agrave; partibus</i>.&mdash;Some actions, be they
+never so beautiful and generous, are often obscured by base and
+vile misconstructions, either out of envy or ill-nature, that
+judgeth of others as of itself.&nbsp; Nay, the times are so
+wholly grown to be either partial or malicious, that if he be a
+friend all sits well about him, his very vices shall be virtues;
+if an enemy, or of the contrary faction, nothing is good or
+tolerable in him; insomuch that we care not to discredit and
+shame our judgments to soothe our passions.</p>
+<p><i>Deus in creaturis</i>.&mdash;Man is read in his face; God
+in His creatures; not as the philosopher, the creature of glory,
+reads him; but as the divine, the servant of humility; yet even
+he must take care not to be too curious.&nbsp; For to utter truth
+of God but as he thinks only, may be dangerous, who is best known
+by our not knowing.&nbsp; Some things of Him, so much as He hath
+revealed or commanded, it is not only lawful but necessary for us
+to know; for therein our ignorance was the first cause of our
+wickedness.</p>
+<p><i>Veritas proprium hominis</i>.&mdash;Truth is man&rsquo;s
+proper good, and the only immortal thing was given to our
+mortality to use.&nbsp; No good Christian or ethnic, if he be
+honest, can miss it; no statesman or patriot should.&nbsp; For
+without truth all the actions of mankind are craft, malice, or
+what you will, rather than wisdom.&nbsp; Homer says he hates him
+worse than hell-mouth that utters one thing with his tongue and
+keeps another in his breast.&nbsp; Which high expression was
+grounded on divine reason; for a lying mouth is a stinking pit,
+and murders with the contagion it venteth.&nbsp; Beside, nothing
+is lasting that is feigned; it will have another face than it
+had, ere long. <a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41"
+class="citation">[41]</a>&nbsp; As Euripides saith, &ldquo;No lie
+ever grows old.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Nullum vitium sine patrocinio</i>.&mdash;It is strange
+there should be no vice without its patronage, that when we have
+no other excuse we will say, we love it, we cannot forsake
+it.&nbsp; As if that made it not more a fault.&nbsp; We cannot,
+because we think we cannot, and we love it because we will defend
+it.&nbsp; We will rather excuse it than be rid of it.&nbsp; That
+we cannot is pretended; but that we will not is the true
+reason.&nbsp; How many have I known that would not have their
+vices hid? nay, and, to be noted, live like Antipodes to others
+in the same city? never see the sun rise or set in so many years,
+but be as they were watching a corpse by torch-light; would not
+sin the common way, but held that a kind of rusticity; they would
+do it new, or contrary, for the infamy; they were ambitious of
+living backward; and at last arrived at that, as they would love
+nothing but the vices, not the vicious customs.&nbsp; It was
+impossible to reform these natures; they were dried and hardened
+in their ill.&nbsp; They may say they desired to leave it, but do
+not trust them; and they may think they desire it, but they may
+lie for all that; they are a little angry with their follies now
+and then; marry, they come into grace with them again
+quickly.&nbsp; They will confess they are offended with their
+manner of living like enough; who is not?&nbsp; When they can put
+me in security that they are more than offended, that they hate
+it, then I will hearken to them, and perhaps believe them; but
+many now-a-days love and hate their ill together.</p>
+<p><i>De vere argutis</i>.&mdash;I do hear them say often some
+men are not witty, because they are not everywhere witty; than
+which nothing is more foolish.&nbsp; If an eye or a nose be an
+excellent part in the face, therefore be all eye or nose!&nbsp; I
+think the eyebrow, the forehead, the cheek, chin, lip, or any
+part else are as necessary and natural in the place.&nbsp; But
+now nothing is good that is natural; right and natural language
+seems to have least of the wit in it; that which is writhed and
+tortured is counted the more exquisite.&nbsp; Cloth of bodkin or
+tissue must be embroidered; as if no face were fair that were not
+powdered or painted! no beauty to be had but in wresting and
+writhing our own tongue!&nbsp; Nothing is fashionable till it be
+deformed; and this is to write like a gentleman.&nbsp; All must
+be affected and preposterous as our gallants&rsquo; clothes,
+sweet-bags, and night-dressings, in which you would think our men
+lay in, like ladies, it is so curious.</p>
+<p><i>Censura de poetis</i>.&mdash;Nothing in our age, I have
+observed, is more preposterous than the running judgments upon
+poetry and poets; when we shall hear those things commended and
+cried up for the best writings which a man would scarce vouchsafe
+to wrap any wholesome drug in; he would never light his tobacco
+with them.&nbsp; And those men almost named for miracles, who yet
+are so vile that if a man should go about to examine and correct
+them, he must make all they have done but one blot.&nbsp; Their
+good is so entangled with their bad as forcibly one must draw on
+the other&rsquo;s death with it.&nbsp; A sponge dipped in ink
+will do all:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;&mdash;Comitetur Punica librum<br />
+Spongia.&mdash;&rdquo; <a name="citation44a"></a><a
+href="#footnote44a" class="citation">[44a]</a></p>
+<p>Et paul&ograve; post,</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Non possunt . . . mult&aelig; . . .
+litur&aelig;<br />
+. . . una litura potest.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<p><i>Cestius</i>&mdash;<i>Cicero</i>&mdash;<i>Heath</i>&mdash;<i>Taylor</i>&mdash;<i>Spenser</i>.&mdash;Yet
+their vices have not hurt them; nay, a great many they have
+profited, for they have been loved for nothing else.&nbsp; And
+this false opinion grows strong against the best men, if once it
+take root with the ignorant.&nbsp; Cestius, in his time, was
+preferred to Cicero, so far as the ignorant durst.&nbsp; They
+learned him without book, and had him often in their mouths; but
+a man cannot imagine that thing so foolish or rude but will find
+and enjoy an admirer; at least a reader or spectator.&nbsp; The
+puppets are seen now in despite of the players; Heath&rsquo;s
+epigrams and the Sculler&rsquo;s poems have their applause.&nbsp;
+There are never wanting that dare prefer the worst preachers, the
+worst pleaders, the worst poets; not that the better have left to
+write or speak better, but that they that hear them judge worse;
+<i>Non illi pejus dicunt</i>, <i>sed hi corruptius
+judicant</i>.&nbsp; Nay, if it were put to the question of the
+water-rhymer&rsquo;s works, against Spenser&rsquo;s, I doubt not
+but they would find more suffrages; because the most favour
+common vices, out of a prerogative the vulgar have to lose their
+judgments and like that which is naught.</p>
+<p>Poetry, in this latter age, hath proved but a mean mistress to
+such as have wholly addicted themselves to her, or given their
+names up to her family.&nbsp; They who have but saluted her on
+the by, and now and then tendered their visits, she hath done
+much for, and advanced in the way of their own professions (both
+the law and the gospel) beyond all they could have hoped or done
+for themselves without her favour.&nbsp; Wherein she doth emulate
+the judicious but preposterous bounty of the time&rsquo;s
+grandees, who accumulate all they can upon the parasite or
+fresh-man in their friendship; but think an old client or honest
+servant bound by his place to write and starve.</p>
+<p>Indeed, the multitude commend writers as they do fencers or
+wrestlers, who if they come in robustiously and put for it with a
+deal of violence are received for the braver fellows; when many
+times their own rudeness is a cause of their disgrace, and a
+slight touch of their adversary gives all that boisterous force
+the foil.&nbsp; But in these things the unskilful are naturally
+deceived, and judging wholly by the bulk, think rude things
+greater than polished, and scattered more numerous than composed;
+nor think this only to be true in the sordid multitude, but the
+neater sort of our gallants; for all are the multitude, only they
+differ in clothes, not in judgment or understanding.</p>
+<p><i>De Shakspeare nostrat</i>.&mdash;<i>Augustus in
+Hat</i>.&mdash;I remember the players have often mentioned it as
+an honour to Shakspeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he
+penned) he never blotted out a line.&nbsp; My answer hath been,
+&ldquo;Would he had blotted a thousand,&rdquo; which they thought
+a malevolent speech.&nbsp; I had not told posterity this but for
+their ignorance who chose that circumstance to commend their
+friend by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own
+candour, for I loved the man, and do honour his memory on this
+side idolatry as much as any.&nbsp; He was, indeed, honest, and
+of an open and free nature, had an excellent phantasy, brave
+notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that
+facility that sometimes it was necessary he should be
+stopped.&nbsp; &ldquo;<i>Sufflaminandus erat</i>,&rdquo; <a
+name="citation47a"></a><a href="#footnote47a"
+class="citation">[47a]</a> as Augustus said of Haterius.&nbsp;
+His wit was in his own power; would the rule of it had been so,
+too.&nbsp; Many times he fell into those things, could not escape
+laughter, as when he said in the person of C&aelig;sar, one
+speaking to him, &ldquo;C&aelig;sar, thou dost me
+wrong.&rdquo;&nbsp; He replied, &ldquo;C&aelig;sar did never
+wrong but with just cause;&rdquo; and such like, which were
+ridiculous.&nbsp; But he redeemed his vices with his
+virtues.&nbsp; There was ever more in him to be praised than to
+be pardoned.</p>
+<p><i>Ingeniorum discrimina</i>.&mdash;<i>Not.</i> 1.&mdash;In
+the difference of wits I have observed there are many notes; and
+it is a little maistry to know them, to discern what every
+nature, every disposition will bear; for before we sow our land
+we should plough it.&nbsp; There are no fewer forms of minds than
+of bodies amongst us.&nbsp; The variety is incredible, and
+therefore we must search.&nbsp; Some are fit to make divines,
+some poets, some lawyers, some physicians; some to be sent to the
+plough, and trades.</p>
+<p>There is no doctrine will do good where nature is
+wanting.&nbsp; Some wits are swelling and high; others low and
+still; some hot and fiery; others cold and dull; one must have a
+bridle, the other a spur.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 2.&mdash;There be some that are forward and bold;
+and these will do every little thing easily.&nbsp; I mean that is
+hard by and next them, which they will utter unretarded without
+any shamefastness.&nbsp; These never perform much, but
+quickly.&nbsp; They are what they are on the sudden; they show
+presently, like grain that, scattered on the top of the ground,
+shoots up, but takes no root; has a yellow blade, but the ear
+empty.&nbsp; They are wits of good promise at first, but there is
+an <i>ingenistitium</i>; <a name="citation49a"></a><a
+href="#footnote49a" class="citation">[49a]</a> they stand still
+at sixteen, they get no higher.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 3.&mdash;You have others that labour only to
+ostentation; and are ever more busy about the colours and surface
+of a work than in the matter and foundation, for that is hid, the
+other is seen.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 4.&mdash;Others that in composition are nothing
+but what is rough and broken.&nbsp; <i>Qu&aelig; per
+salebras</i>, <i>altaque saxa cadunt</i>. <a
+name="citation49b"></a><a href="#footnote49b"
+class="citation">[49b]</a>&nbsp; And if it would come gently,
+they trouble it of purpose.&nbsp; They would not have it run
+without rubs, as if that style were more strong and manly that
+struck the ear with a kind of unevenness.&nbsp; These men err not
+by chance, but knowingly and willingly; they are like men that
+affect a fashion by themselves; have some singularity in a ruff
+cloak, or hat-band; or their beards specially cut to provoke
+beholders, and set a mark upon themselves.&nbsp; They would be
+reprehended while they are looked on.&nbsp; And this vice, one
+that is authority with the rest, loving, delivers over to them to
+be imitated; so that ofttimes the faults which be fell into the
+others seek for.&nbsp; This is the danger, when vice becomes a
+precedent.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 5.&mdash;Others there are that have no composition
+at all; but a kind of tuning and rhyming fall in what they
+write.&nbsp; It runs and slides, and only makes a sound.&nbsp;
+Women&rsquo;s poets they are called, as you have women&rsquo;s
+tailors.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;They write a verse as smooth, as soft as
+cream,<br />
+In which there is no torrent, nor scarce stream.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>You may sound these wits and find the depth of them with your
+middle finger.&nbsp; They are cream-bowl or but puddle-deep.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 6.&mdash;Some that turn over all books, and are
+equally searching in all papers; that write out of what they
+presently find or meet, without choice.&nbsp; By which means it
+happens that what they have discredited and impugned in one week,
+they have before or after extolled the same in another.&nbsp;
+Such are all the essayists, even their master Montaigne.&nbsp;
+These, in all they write, confess still what books they have read
+last, and therein their own folly so much, that they bring it to
+the stake raw and undigested; not that the place did need it
+neither, but that they thought themselves furnished and would
+vent it.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 7.&mdash;Some, again who, after they have got
+authority, or, which is less, opinion, by their writings, to have
+read much, dare presently to feign whole books and authors, and
+lie safely.&nbsp; For what never was, will not easily be found,
+not by the most curious.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 8.&mdash;And some, by a cunning protestation
+against all reading, and false venditation of their own naturals,
+think to divert the sagacity of their readers from themselves,
+and cool the scent of their own fox-like thefts; when yet they
+are so rank, as a man may find whole pages together usurped from
+one author; their necessities compelling them to read for present
+use, which could not be in many books; and so come forth more
+ridiculously and palpably guilty than those who, because they
+cannot trace, they yet would slander their industry.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 9.&mdash;But the wretcheder are the obstinate
+contemners of all helps and arts; such as presuming on their own
+naturals (which, perhaps, are excellent), dare deride all
+diligence, and seem to mock at the terms when they understand not
+the things; thinking that way to get off wittily with their
+ignorance.&nbsp; These are imitated often by such as are their
+peers in negligence, though they cannot be in nature; and they
+utter all they can think with a kind of violence and
+indisposition, unexamined, without relation either to person,
+place, or any fitness else; and the more wilful and stubborn they
+are in it the more learned they are esteemed of the multitude,
+through their excellent vice of judgment, who think those things
+the stronger that have no art; as if to break were better than to
+open, or to rend asunder gentler than to loose.</p>
+<p><i>Not.</i> 10.&mdash;It cannot but come to pass that these
+men who commonly seek to do more than enough may sometimes happen
+on something that is good and great; but very seldom: and when it
+comes it doth not recompense the rest of their ill.&nbsp; For
+their jests, and their sentences (which they only and ambitiously
+seek for) stick out, and are more eminent, because all is sordid
+and vile about them; as lights are more discerned in a thick
+darkness than a faint shadow.&nbsp; Now, because they speak all
+they can (however unfitly), they are thought to have the greater
+copy; where the learned use ever election and a mean, they look
+back to what they intended at first, and make all an even and
+proportioned body.&nbsp; The true artificer will not run away
+from Nature as he were afraid of her, or depart from life and the
+likeness of truth, but speak to the capacity of his
+hearers.&nbsp; And though his language differ from the vulgar
+somewhat, it shall not fly from all humanity, with the Tamerlanes
+and Tamer-chains of the late age, which had nothing in them but
+the scenical strutting and furious vociferation to warrant them
+to the ignorant gapers.&nbsp; He knows it is his only art so to
+carry it, as none but artificers perceive it.&nbsp; In the
+meantime, perhaps, he is called barren, dull, lean, a poor
+writer, or by what contumelious word can come in their cheeks, by
+these men who, without labour, judgment, knowledge, or almost
+sense, are received or preferred before him.&nbsp; He gratulates
+them and their fortune.&nbsp; Another age, or juster men, will
+acknowledge the virtues of his studies, his wisdom in dividing,
+his subtlety in arguing, with what strength he doth inspire his
+readers, with what sweetness he strokes them; in inveighing, what
+sharpness; in jest, what urbanity he uses; how he doth reign in
+men&rsquo;s affections; how invade and break in upon them, and
+makes their minds like the thing he writes.&nbsp; Then in his
+elocution to behold what word is proper, which hath ornaments,
+which height, what is beautifully translated, where figures are
+fit, which gentle, which strong, to show the composition manly;
+and how he hath avoided faint, obscure, obscene, sordid, humble,
+improper, or effeminate phrase; which is not only praised of the
+most, but commended (which is worse), especially for that it is
+naught.</p>
+<p><i>Ignorantia anim&aelig;</i>.&mdash;I know no disease of the
+soul but ignorance, not of the arts and sciences, but of itself;
+yet relating to those it is a pernicious evil, the darkener of
+man&rsquo;s life, the disturber of his reason, and common
+confounder of truth, with which a man goes groping in the dark,
+no otherwise than if he were blind.&nbsp; Great understandings
+are most racked and troubled with it; nay, sometimes they will
+rather choose to die than not to know the things they study
+for.&nbsp; Think, then, what an evil it is, and what good the
+contrary.</p>
+<p><i>Scientia</i>.&mdash;Knowledge is the action of the soul and
+is perfect without the senses, as having the seeds of all science
+and virtue in itself; but not without the service of the senses;
+by these organs the soul works: she is a perpetual agent, prompt
+and subtle; but often flexible and erring, entangling herself
+like a silkworm, but her reason is a weapon with two edges, and
+cuts through.&nbsp; In her indagations oft-times new scents put
+her by, and she takes in errors into her by the same conduits she
+doth truths.</p>
+<p><i>Otium Studiorum</i>.&mdash;Ease and relaxation are
+profitable to all studies.&nbsp; The mind is like a bow, the
+stronger by being unbent.&nbsp; But the temper in spirits is all,
+when to command a man&rsquo;s wit, when to favour it.&nbsp; I
+have known a man vehement on both sides, that knew no mean,
+either to intermit his studies or call upon them again.&nbsp;
+When he hath set himself to writing he would join night to day,
+press upon himself without release, not minding it, till he
+fainted; and when he left off, resolve himself into all sports
+and looseness again, that it was almost a despair to draw him to
+his book; but once got to it, he grew stronger and more earnest
+by the ease.&nbsp; His whole powers were renewed; he would work
+out of himself what he desired, but with such excess as his study
+could not be ruled; he knew not how to dispose his own abilities,
+or husband them; he was of that immoderate power against
+himself.&nbsp; Nor was he only a strong, but an absolute speaker
+and writer; but his subtlety did not show itself; his judgment
+thought that a vice; for the ambush hurts more that is hid.&nbsp;
+He never forced his language, nor went out of the highway of
+speaking but for some great necessity or apparent profit; for he
+denied figures to be invented for ornament, but for aid; and
+still thought it an extreme madness to bind or wrest that which
+ought to be right.</p>
+<p><i>Stili
+eminentia</i>.&mdash;<i>Virgil</i>.&mdash;<i>Tully</i>.&mdash;<i>Sallust</i>.&mdash;It
+is no wonder men&rsquo;s eminence appears but in their own
+way.&nbsp; Virgil&rsquo;s felicity left him in prose, as
+Tully&rsquo;s forsook him in verse.&nbsp; Sallust&rsquo;s
+orations are read in the honour of story, yet the most
+eloquent.&nbsp; Plato&rsquo;s speech, which he made for Socrates,
+is neither worthy of the patron nor the person defended.&nbsp;
+Nay, in the same kind of oratory, and where the matter is one,
+you shall have him that reasons strongly, open negligently;
+another that prepares well, not fit so well.&nbsp; And this
+happens not only to brains, but to bodies.&nbsp; One can wrestle
+well, another run well, a third leap or throw the bar, a fourth
+lift or stop a cart going; each hath his way of strength.&nbsp;
+So in other creatures&mdash;some dogs are for the deer, some for
+the wild boar, some are fox-hounds, some otter-hounds.&nbsp; Nor
+are all horses for the coach or saddle, some are for the cart and
+paniers.</p>
+<p><i>De Claris Oratoribus</i>.&mdash;I have known many excellent
+men that would speak suddenly to the admiration of their hearers,
+who upon study and premeditation have been forsaken by their own
+wits, and no way answered their fame; their eloquence was greater
+than their reading, and the things they uttered better than those
+they knew; their fortune deserved better of them than their
+care.&nbsp; For men of present spirits, and of greater wits than
+study, do please more in the things they invent than in those
+they bring.&nbsp; And I have heard some of them compelled to
+speak, out of necessity, that have so infinitely exceeded
+themselves, as it was better both for them and their auditory
+that they were so surprised, not prepared.&nbsp; Nor was it safe
+then to cross them, for their adversary, their anger made them
+more eloquent.&nbsp; Yet these men I could not but love and
+admire, that they returned to their studies.&nbsp; They left not
+diligence (as many do) when their rashness prospered; for
+diligence is a great aid, even to an indifferent wit; when we are
+not contented with the examples of our own age, but would know
+the face of the former.&nbsp; Indeed, the more we confer with the
+more we profit by, if the persons be chosen.</p>
+<p><i>Dominus Verulamius</i>.&mdash;One, though he be excellent
+and the chief, is not to be imitated alone; for no imitator ever
+grew up to his author; likeness is always on this side
+truth.&nbsp; Yet there happened in my time one noble speaker who
+was full of gravity in his speaking; his language (where he could
+spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious.&nbsp; No man ever
+spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered less
+emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered.&nbsp; No member of
+his speech but consisted of his own graces.&nbsp; His hearers
+could not cough, or look aside from him, without loss.&nbsp; He
+commanded where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at
+his devotion.&nbsp; No man had their affections more in his
+power.&nbsp; The fear of every man that heard him was lest he
+should make an end.</p>
+<p><i>Scriptorum catalogus</i>. <a name="citation59a"></a><a
+href="#footnote59a" class="citation">[59a]</a>&nbsp; Cicero is
+said to be the only wit that the people of Rome had equalled to
+their empire.&nbsp; <i>Ingenium par imperio</i>.&nbsp; We have
+had many, and in their several ages (to take in but the former
+<i>seculum</i>) Sir Thomas More, the elder Wiat, Henry Earl of
+Surrey, Chaloner, Smith, Eliot, B. Gardiner, were for their times
+admirable; and the more, because they began eloquence with
+us.&nbsp; Sir Nicolas Bacon was singular, and almost alone, in
+the beginning of Queen Elizabeth&rsquo;s time.&nbsp; Sir Philip
+Sidney and Mr. Hooker (in different matter) grew great masters of
+wit and language, and in whom all vigour of invention and
+strength of judgment met.&nbsp; The Earl of Essex, noble and
+high; and Sir Walter Raleigh, not to be contemned, either for
+judgment or style.&nbsp; Sir Henry Savile, grave, and truly
+lettered; Sir Edwin Sandys, excellent in both; Lord Egerton, the
+Chancellor, a grave and great orator, and best when he was
+provoked; but his learned and able (though unfortunate) successor
+is he who hath filled up all numbers, and performed that in our
+tongue which may be compared or preferred either to insolent
+Greece or haughty Rome.&nbsp; In short, within his view, and
+about his times, were all the wits born that could honour a
+language or help study.&nbsp; Now things daily fall, wits grow
+downward, and eloquence grows backward; so that he may be named
+and stand as the mark and &alpha;&kappa;&mu;&eta; of our
+language.</p>
+<p><i>De augmentis scientiarum</i>.&mdash;<i>Julius
+C&aelig;sar</i>.&mdash;<i>Lord St. Alban</i>.&mdash;I have ever
+observed it to have been the office of a wise patriot, among the
+greatest affairs of the State, to take care of the commonwealth
+of learning.&nbsp; For schools, they are the seminaries of State;
+and nothing is worthier the study of a statesman than that part
+of the republic which we call the advancement of letters.&nbsp;
+Witness the care of Julius C&aelig;sar, who, in the heat of the
+civil war, writ his books of Analogy, and dedicated them to
+Tully.&nbsp; This made the late Lord St. Alban entitle his work
+<i>Novum Organum</i>; which, though by the most of superficial
+men, who cannot get beyond the title of nominals, it is not
+penetrated nor understood, it really openeth all defects of
+learning whatsoever, and is a book</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Qui longum note scriptori proroget
+&aelig;vum.&rdquo; <a name="citation62a"></a><a
+href="#footnote62a" class="citation">[62a]</a></p>
+<p>My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his
+place or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the
+greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to
+me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of
+admiration, that had been in many ages.&nbsp; In his adversity I
+ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he
+could not want.&nbsp; Neither could I condole in a word or
+syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue,
+but rather help to make it manifest.</p>
+<p><i>De corruptela morum</i>.&mdash;There cannot be one colour
+of the mind, another of the wit.&nbsp; If the mind be staid,
+grave, and composed, the wit is so; that vitiated, the other is
+blown and deflowered.&nbsp; Do we not see, if the mind languish,
+the members are dull?&nbsp; Look upon an effeminate person, his
+very gait confesseth him.&nbsp; If a man be fiery, his motion is
+so; if angry, it is troubled and violent.&nbsp; So that we may
+conclude wheresoever manners and fashions are corrupted, language
+is.&nbsp; It imitates the public riot.&nbsp; The excess of feasts
+and apparel are the notes of a sick state, and the wantonness of
+language of a sick mind.</p>
+<p><i>De rebus mundanis</i>.&mdash;If we would consider what our
+affairs are indeed, not what they are called, we should find more
+evils belonging to us than happen to us.&nbsp; How often doth
+that which was called a calamity prove the beginning and cause of
+a man&rsquo;s happiness? and, on the contrary, that which
+happened or came to another with great gratulation and applause,
+how it hath lifted him but a step higher to his ruin? as if he
+stood before where he might fall safely.</p>
+<p><i>Vulgi mores</i>.&mdash;<i>Morbus comitialis</i>.&mdash;The
+vulgar are commonly ill-natured, and always grudging against
+their governors: which makes that a prince has more business and
+trouble with them than ever Hercules had with the bull or any
+other beast; by how much they have more heads than will be reined
+with one bridle.&nbsp; There was not that variety of beasts in
+the ark, as is of beastly natures in the multitude; especially
+when they come to that iniquity to censure their
+sovereign&rsquo;s actions.&nbsp; Then all the counsels are made
+good or bad by the events; and it falleth out that the same facts
+receive from them the names, now of diligence, now of vanity, now
+of majesty, now of fury; where they ought wholly to hang on his
+mouth, as he to consist of himself, and not others&rsquo;
+counsels.</p>
+<p><i>Princeps</i>.&mdash;After God, nothing is to be loved of
+man like the prince; he violates Nature that doth it not with his
+whole heart.&nbsp; For when he hath put on the care of the public
+good and common safety, I am a wretch, and put off man, if I do
+not reverence and honour him, in whose charge all things divine
+and human are placed.&nbsp; Do but ask of Nature why all living
+creatures are less delighted with meat and drink that sustains
+them than with venery that wastes them? and she will tell thee,
+the first respects but a private, the other a common good,
+propagation.</p>
+<p><i>De eodem</i>.&mdash;<i>Orpheus&rsquo; Hymn</i>.&mdash;He is
+the arbiter of life and death: when he finds no other subject for
+his mercy, he should spare himself.&nbsp; All his punishments are
+rather to correct than to destroy.&nbsp; Why are prayers with
+Orpheus said to be the daughters of Jupiter, but that princes are
+thereby admonished that the petitions of the wretched ought to
+have more weight with them than the laws themselves.</p>
+<p><i>De opt. Rege Jacobo</i>.&mdash;It was a great accumulation
+to His Majesty&rsquo;s deserved praise that men might openly
+visit and pity those whom his greatest prisons had at any time
+received or his laws condemned.</p>
+<p><i>De Princ. adjunctis</i>.&mdash;<i>Sed ver&egrave; prudens
+haud concipi possit Princeps</i>, <i>nisi simul et
+bonus</i>.&mdash;<i>Lycurgus</i>.&mdash;<i>Sylla</i>.&mdash;<i>Lysander</i>.&mdash;<i>Cyrus</i>.&mdash;Wise
+is rather the attribute of a prince than learned or good.&nbsp;
+The learned man profits others rather than himself; the good man
+rather himself than others; but the prince commands others, and
+doth himself.</p>
+<p>The wise Lycurgus gave no law but what himself kept.&nbsp;
+Sylla and Lysander did not so; the one living extremely dissolute
+himself, enforced frugality by the laws; the other permitted
+those licenses to others which himself abstained from.&nbsp; But
+the prince&rsquo;s prudence is his chief art and safety.&nbsp; In
+his counsels and deliberations he foresees the future times: in
+the equity of his judgment he hath remembrance of the past, and
+knowledge of what is to be done or avoided for the present.&nbsp;
+Hence the Persians gave out their Cyrus to have been nursed by a
+bitch, a creature to encounter it, as of sagacity to seek out
+good; showing that wisdom may accompany fortitude, or it leaves
+to be, and puts on the name of rashness.</p>
+<p><i>De malign. studentium</i>.&mdash;There be some men are born
+only to suck out the poison of books: <i>Habent venenum pro
+victu</i>; <i>im&ocirc;</i>, <i>pro deliciis</i>. <a
+name="citation66a"></a><a href="#footnote66a"
+class="citation">[66a]</a>&nbsp; And such are they that only
+relish the obscene and foul things in poets, which makes the
+profession taxed.&nbsp; But by whom?&nbsp; Men that watch for it;
+and, had they not had this hint, are so unjust valuers of letters
+as they think no learning good but what brings in gain.&nbsp; It
+shows they themselves would never have been of the professions
+they are but for the profits and fees.&nbsp; But if another
+learning, well used, can instruct to good life, inform manners,
+no less persuade and lead men than they threaten and compel, and
+have no reward, is it therefore the worst study?&nbsp; I could
+never think the study of wisdom confined only to the philosopher,
+or of piety to the divine, or of state to the politic; but that
+he which can feign a commonwealth (which is the poet) can govern
+it with counsels, strengthen it with laws, correct it with
+judgments, inform it with religion and morals, is all
+these.&nbsp; We do not require in him mere elocution, or an
+excellent faculty in verse, but the exact knowledge of all
+virtues and their contraries, with ability to render the one
+loved, the other hated, by his proper embattling them.&nbsp; The
+philosophers did insolently, to challenge only to themselves that
+which the greatest generals and gravest counsellors never
+durst.&nbsp; For such had rather do than promise the best
+things.</p>
+<p><i>Controvers. scriptores</i>.&mdash;<i>More Andabatarum qui
+clausis oculis pugnant</i>.&mdash;Some controverters in divinity
+are like swaggerers in a tavern that catch that which stands next
+them, the candlestick or pots; turn everything into a weapon:
+ofttimes they fight blindfold, and both beat the air.&nbsp; The
+one milks a he-goat, the other holds under a sieve.&nbsp; Their
+arguments are as fluxive as liquor spilt upon a table, which with
+your finger you may drain as you will.&nbsp; Such controversies
+or disputations (carried with more labour than profit) are
+odious; where most times the truth is lost in the midst or left
+untouched.&nbsp; And the fruit of their fight is, that they spit
+one upon another, and are both defiled.&nbsp; These fencers in
+religion I like not.</p>
+<p><i>Morbi</i>.&mdash;The body hath certain diseases that are
+with less evil tolerated than removed.&nbsp; As if to cure a
+leprosy a man should bathe himself with the warm blood of a
+murdered child, so in the Church some errors may be dissimuled
+with less inconvenience than they can be discovered.</p>
+<p><i>Jactantia intempestiva</i>.&mdash;Men that talk of their
+own benefits are not believed to talk of them because they have
+done them; but to have done them because they might talk of
+them.&nbsp; That which had been great, if another had reported it
+of them, vanisheth, and is nothing, if he that did it speak of
+it.&nbsp; For men, when they cannot destroy the deed, will yet be
+glad to take advantage of the boasting, and lessen it.</p>
+<p><i>Adulatio</i>.&mdash;I have seen that poverty makes me do
+unfit things; but honest men should not do them; they should gain
+otherwise.&nbsp; Though a man be hungry, he should not play the
+parasite.&nbsp; That hour wherein I would repent me to be honest,
+there were ways enough open for me to be rich.&nbsp; But flattery
+is a fine pick-lock of tender ears; especially of those whom
+fortune hath borne high upon their wings, that submit their
+dignity and authority to it, by a soothing of themselves.&nbsp;
+For, indeed, men could never be taken in that abundance with the
+springes of others&rsquo; flattery, if they began not there; if
+they did but remember how much more profitable the bitterness of
+truth were, than all the honey distilling from a whorish voice,
+which is not praise, but poison.&nbsp; But now it is come to that
+extreme folly, or rather madness, with some, that he that
+flatters them modestly or sparingly is thought to malign
+them.&nbsp; If their friend consent not to their vices, though he
+do not contradict them, he is nevertheless an enemy.&nbsp; When
+they do all things the worst way, even then they look for
+praise.&nbsp; Nay, they will hire fellows to flatter them with
+suits and suppers, and to prostitute their judgments.&nbsp; They
+have livery-friends, friends of the dish, and of the spit, that
+wait their turns, as my lord has his feasts and guests.</p>
+<p><i>De vit&acirc; human&acirc;</i>.&mdash;I have considered our
+whole life is like a play: wherein every man forgetful of
+himself, is in travail with expression of another.&nbsp; Nay, we
+so insist in imitating others, as we cannot when it is necessary
+return to ourselves; like children, that imitate the vices of
+stammerers so long, till at last they become such; and make the
+habit to another nature, as it is never forgotten.</p>
+<p><i>De piis et probis</i>.&mdash;Good men are the stars, the
+planets of the ages wherein they live and illustrate the
+times.&nbsp; God did never let them be wanting to the world: as
+Abel, for an example of innocency, Enoch of purity, Noah of trust
+in God&rsquo;s mercies, Abraham of faith, and so of the
+rest.&nbsp; These, sensual men thought mad because they would not
+be partakers or practisers of their madness.&nbsp; But they,
+placed high on the top of all virtue, looked down on the stage of
+the world and contemned the play of fortune.&nbsp; For though the
+most be players, some must be spectators.</p>
+<p><i>Mores aulici</i>.&mdash;I have discovered that a feigned
+familiarity in great ones is a note of certain usurpation on the
+less.&nbsp; For great and popular men feign themselves to be
+servants to others to make those slaves to them.&nbsp; So the
+fisher provides bait for the trout, roach, dace, &amp;c., that
+they may be food to him.</p>
+<p><i>Impiorum
+querela</i>.&mdash;<i>Augusties</i>.&mdash;<i>Varus</i>.&mdash;<i>Tiberius</i>.&mdash;The
+complaint of Caligula was most wicked of the condition of his
+times, when he said they were not famous for any public calamity,
+as the reign of Augustus was, by the defeat of Varus and the
+legions; and that of Tiberius, by the falling of the theatre at
+Fiden&aelig;; whilst his oblivion was eminent through the
+prosperity of his affairs.&nbsp; As that other voice of his was
+worthier a headsman than a head when he wished the people of Rome
+had but one neck.&nbsp; But he found when he fell they had many
+hands.&nbsp; A tyrant, how great and mighty soever he may seem to
+cowards and sluggards, is but one creature, one animal.</p>
+<p><i>Nobilium ingenia</i>.&mdash;I have marked among the
+nobility some are so addicted to the service of the prince and
+commonwealth, as they look not for spoil; such are to be honoured
+and loved.&nbsp; There are others which no obligation will fasten
+on; and they are of two sorts.&nbsp; The first are such as love
+their own ease; or, out of vice, of nature, or self-direction,
+avoid business and care.&nbsp; Yet these the prince may use with
+safety.&nbsp; The other remove themselves upon craft and design,
+as the architects say, with a premeditated thought, to their own
+rather than their prince&rsquo;s profit.&nbsp; Such let the
+prince take heed of, and not doubt to reckon in the list of his
+open enemies.</p>
+<p><i>Principum. varia</i>.&mdash;<i>Firmissima ver&ograve;
+omnium basis jus h&aelig;reditarium Principis</i>.&mdash;There is
+a great variation between him that is raised to the sovereignty
+by the favour of his peers and him that comes to it by the
+suffrage of the people.&nbsp; The first holds with more
+difficulty, because he hath to do with many that think themselves
+his equals, and raised him for their own greatness and oppression
+of the rest.&nbsp; The latter hath no upbraiders, but was raised
+by them that sought to be defended from oppression: whose end is
+both easier and the honester to satisfy.&nbsp; Beside, while he
+hath the people to friend, who are a multitude, he hath the less
+fear of the nobility, who are but few.&nbsp; Nor let the common
+proverb (of he that builds on the people builds on the dirt)
+discredit my opinion: for that hath only place where an ambitious
+and private person, for some popular end, trusts in them against
+the public justice and magistrate.&nbsp; There they will leave
+him.&nbsp; But when a prince governs them, so as they have still
+need of his administrations (for that is his art), he shall ever
+make and hold them faithful.</p>
+<p><i>Clementia</i>.&mdash;<i>Machiavell</i>.&mdash;A prince
+should exercise his cruelty not by himself but by his ministers;
+so he may save himself and his dignity with his people by
+sacrificing those when he list, saith the great doctor of state,
+Machiavell.&nbsp; But I say he puts off man and goes into a
+beast, that is cruel.&nbsp; No virtue is a prince&rsquo;s own, or
+becomes him more, than this clemency: and no glory is greater
+than to be able to save with his power.&nbsp; Many punishments
+sometimes, and in some cases, as much discredit a prince, as many
+funerals a physician.&nbsp; The state of things is secured by
+clemency; severity represseth a few, but irritates more. <a
+name="citation74a"></a><a href="#footnote74a"
+class="citation">[74a]</a>&nbsp; The lopping of trees makes the
+boughs shoot out thicker; and the taking away of some kind of
+enemies increaseth the number.&nbsp; It is then most gracious in
+a prince to pardon when many about him would make him cruel; to
+think then how much he can save when others tell him how much he
+can destroy; not to consider what the impotence of others hath
+demolished, but what his own greatness can sustain.&nbsp; These
+are a prince&rsquo;s virtues: and they that give him other
+counsels are but the hangman&rsquo;s factors.</p>
+<p><i>Clementia tutela optima</i>.&mdash;He that is cruel to
+halves (saith the said St. Nicholas <a name="citation74b"></a><a
+href="#footnote74b" class="citation">[74b]</a>) loseth no less
+the opportunity of his cruelty than of his benefits: for then to
+use his cruelty is too late; and to use his favours will be
+interpreted fear and necessity, and so he loseth the
+thanks.&nbsp; Still the counsel is cruelty.&nbsp; But princes, by
+hearkening to cruel counsels, become in time obnoxious to the
+authors, their flatterers, and ministers; and are brought to
+that, that when they would, they dare not change them; they must
+go on and defend cruelty with cruelty; they cannot alter the
+habit.&nbsp; It is then grown necessary, they must be as ill as
+those have made them: and in the end they will grow more hateful
+to themselves than to their subjects.&nbsp; Whereas, on the
+contrary, the merciful prince is safe in love, not in fear.&nbsp;
+He needs no emissaries, spies, intelligencers to entrap true
+subjects.&nbsp; He fears no libels, no treasons.&nbsp; His people
+speak what they think, and talk openly what they do in
+secret.&nbsp; They have nothing in their breasts that they need a
+cypher for.&nbsp; He is guarded with his own benefits.</p>
+<p><i>Religio</i>.&nbsp; <i>Palladium
+Homeri</i>.&mdash;<i>Euripides</i>.&mdash;The strength of empire
+is in religion.&nbsp; What else is the Palladium (with Homer)
+that kept Troy so long from sacking?&nbsp; Nothing more commends
+the Sovereign to the subject than it.&nbsp; For he that is
+religious must be merciful and just necessarily: and they are two
+strong ties upon mankind.&nbsp; Justice the virtue that innocence
+rejoiceth in.&nbsp; Yet even that is not always so safe, but it
+may love to stand in the sight of mercy.&nbsp; For sometimes
+misfortune is made a crime, and then innocence is succoured no
+less than virtue.&nbsp; Nay, oftentimes virtue is made capital;
+and through the condition of the times it may happen that that
+may be punished with our praise.&nbsp; Let no man therefore
+murmur at the actions of the prince, who is placed so far above
+him.&nbsp; If he offend, he hath his discoverer.&nbsp; God hath a
+height beyond him.&nbsp; But where the prince is good, Euripides
+saith, &ldquo;God is a guest in a human body.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Tyranni</i>.&mdash;<i>Sejanus</i>.&mdash;There is nothing
+with some princes sacred above their majesty, or profane, but
+what violates their sceptres.&nbsp; But a prince, with such a
+council, is like the god Terminus, of stone, his own landmark, or
+(as it is in the fable) a crowned lion.&nbsp; It is dangerous
+offending such a one, who, being angry, knows not how to forgive;
+that cares not to do anything for maintaining or enlarging of
+empire; kills not men or subjects, but destroyeth whole
+countries, armies, mankind, male and female, guilty or not
+guilty, holy or profane; yea, some that have not seen the
+light.&nbsp; All is under the law of their spoil and
+licence.&nbsp; But princes that neglect their proper office thus
+their fortune is oftentimes to draw a Sejanus to be near about
+them, who at last affect to get above them, and put them in a
+worthy fear of rooting both them out and their family.&nbsp; For
+no men hate an evil prince more than they that helped to make him
+such.&nbsp; And none more boastingly weep his ruin than they that
+procured and practised it.&nbsp; The same path leads to ruin
+which did to rule when men profess a licence in government.&nbsp;
+A good king is a public servant.</p>
+<p><i>Illiteratus princeps</i>.&mdash;A prince without letters is
+a pilot without eyes.&nbsp; All his government is groping.&nbsp;
+In sovereignty it is a most happy thing not to be compelled; but
+so it is the most miserable not to be counselled.&nbsp; And how
+can he be counselled that cannot see to read the best counsellors
+(which are books), for they neither flatter us nor hide from
+us?&nbsp; He may hear, you will say; but how shall he always be
+sure to hear truth, or be counselled the best things, not the
+sweetest?&nbsp; They say princes learn no art truly but the art
+of horsemanship.&nbsp; The reason is the brave beast is no
+flatterer.&nbsp; He will throw a prince as soon as his
+groom.&nbsp; Which is an argument that the good counsellors to
+princes are the best instruments of a good age.&nbsp; For though
+the prince himself be of a most prompt inclination to all virtue,
+yet the best pilots have needs of mariners besides sails, anchor,
+and other tackle.</p>
+<p><i>Character principis</i>.&mdash;<i>Alexander
+magnus</i>.&mdash;If men did know what shining fetters, gilded
+miseries, and painted happiness thrones and sceptres were there
+would not be so frequent strife about the getting or holding of
+them; there would be more principalities than princes; for a
+prince is the pastor of the people.&nbsp; He ought to shear, not
+to flay his sheep; to take their fleeces, not their the soul of
+the commonwealth, and ought to cherish it as his own body.&nbsp;
+Alexander the Great was wont to say, &ldquo;He hated that
+gardener that plucked his herbs or flowers up by the
+roots.&rdquo;&nbsp; A man may milk a beast till the blood come;
+churn milk and it yieldeth butter, but wring the nose and the
+blood followeth.&nbsp; He is an ill prince that so pulls his
+subjects&rsquo; feathers as he would not have them grow again;
+that makes his exchequer a receipt for the spoils of those he
+governs.&nbsp; No, let him keep his own, not affect his
+subjects&rsquo;; strive rather to be called just than
+powerful.&nbsp; Not, like the Roman tyrants, affect the surnames
+that grow by human slaughters; neither to seek war in peace, nor
+peace in war, but to observe faith given, though to an
+enemy.&nbsp; Study piety toward the subject; show care to defend
+him.&nbsp; Be slow to punish in divers cases, but be a sharp and
+severe revenger of open crimes.&nbsp; Break no decrees or
+dissolve no orders to slacken the strength of laws.&nbsp; Choose
+neither magistrates, civil or ecclesiastical, by favour or price;
+but with long disquisition and report of their worth by all
+suffrages.&nbsp; Sell no honours, nor give them hastily, but
+bestow them with counsel and for reward; if he do, acknowledge it
+(though late), and mend it.&nbsp; For princes are easy to be
+deceived; and what wisdom can escape where so many court-arts are
+studied?&nbsp; But, above all, the prince is to remember that
+when the great day of account comes, which neither magistrate nor
+prince can shun, there will be required of him a reckoning for
+those whom he hath trusted, as for himself, which he must
+provide.&nbsp; And if piety be wanting in the priests, equity in
+the judges, or the magistrates be found rated at a price, what
+justice or religion is to be expected? which are the only two
+attributes make kings akin to God, and is the Delphic sword, both
+to kill sacrifices and to chastise offenders.</p>
+<p><i>De gratiosis</i>.&mdash;When a virtuous man is raised, it
+brings gladness to his friends, grief to his enemies, and glory
+to his posterity.&nbsp; Nay, his honours are a great part of the
+honour of the times; when by this means he is grown to active men
+an example, to the slothful a spur, to the envious a
+punishment.</p>
+<p><i>Divites</i>.&mdash;<i>Heredes ex asse</i>.&nbsp; He which
+is sole heir to many rich men, having (besides his father&rsquo;s
+and uncle&rsquo;s) the estates of divers his kindred come to him
+by accession, must needs be richer than father or grandfather; so
+they which are left heirs <i>ex asse</i> of all their
+ancestors&rsquo; vices, and by their good husbandry improve the
+old and daily purchase new, must needs be wealthier in vice, and
+have a greater revenue or stock of ill to spend on.</p>
+<p><i>Fures publici</i>.&mdash;The great thieves of a state are
+lightly the officers of the crown; they hang the less still, play
+the pikes in the pond, eat whom they list.&nbsp; The net was
+never spread for the hawk or buzzard that hurt us, but the
+harmless birds; they are good meat:&mdash;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura
+columbas.&rdquo; <a name="citation81a"></a><a href="#footnote81a"
+class="citation">[81a]</a><br />
+&ldquo;Non rete accipitri tenditur, neque milvio.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation81b"></a><a href="#footnote81b"
+class="citation">[81b]</a></p>
+<p><i>Lewis XI</i>.&mdash;But they are not always safe though,
+especially when they meet with wise masters.&nbsp; They can take
+down all the huff and swelling of their looks, and like dexterous
+auditors place the counter where he shall value nothing.&nbsp;
+Let them but remember Lewis XI., who to a Clerk of the Exchequer
+that came to be Lord Treasurer, and had (for his device)
+represented himself sitting on fortune&rsquo;s wheel, told him he
+might do well to fasten it with a good strong nail, lest, turning
+about, it might bring him where he was again.&nbsp; As indeed it
+did.</p>
+<p><i>De bonis et malis</i>.&mdash;<i>De
+innocenti&acirc;</i>.&mdash;A good man will avoid the spot of any
+sin.&nbsp; The very aspersion is grievous, which makes him choose
+his way in his life as he would in his journey.&nbsp; The ill man
+rides through all confidently; he is coated and booted for
+it.&nbsp; The oftener he offends, the more openly, and the
+fouler, the fitter in fashion.&nbsp; His modesty, like a
+riding-coat, the more it is worn is the less cared for.&nbsp; It
+is good enough for the dirt still, and the ways he travels
+in.&nbsp; An innocent man needs no eloquence, his innocence is
+instead of it, else I had never come off so many times from these
+precipices, whither men&rsquo;s malice hath pursued me.&nbsp; It
+is true I have been accused to the lords, to the king, and by
+great ones, but it happened my accusers had not thought of the
+accusation with themselves, and so were driven, for want of
+crimes, to use invention, which was found slander, or too late
+(being entered so fair) to seek starting-holes for their
+rashness, which were not given them.&nbsp; And then they may
+think what accusation that was like to prove, when they that were
+the engineers feared to be the authors.&nbsp; Nor were they
+content to feign things against me, but to urge things, feigned
+by the ignorant, against my profession, which though, from their
+hired and mercenary impudence, I might have passed by as granted
+to a nation of barkers that let out their tongues to lick
+others&rsquo; sores; yet I durst not leave myself undefended,
+having a pair of ears unskilful to hear lies, or have those
+things said of me which I could truly prove of them.&nbsp; They
+objected making of verses to me, when I could object to most of
+them, their not being able to read them, but as worthy of
+scorn.&nbsp; Nay, they would offer to urge mine own writings
+against me, but by pieces (which was an excellent way of malice),
+as if any man&rsquo;s context might not seem dangerous and
+offensive, if that which was knit to what went before were
+defrauded of his beginning; or that things by themselves uttered
+might not seem subject to calumny, which read entire would appear
+most free.&nbsp; At last they upbraided my poverty: I confess she
+is my domestic; sober of diet, simple of habit, frugal, painful,
+a good counseller to me, that keeps me from cruelty, pride, or
+other more delicate impertinences, which are the nurse-children
+of riches.&nbsp; But let them look over all the great and
+monstrous wickednesses, they shall never find those in poor
+families.&nbsp; They are the issue of the wealthy giants and the
+mighty hunters, whereas no great work, or worthy of praise or
+memory, but came out of poor cradles.&nbsp; It was the ancient
+poverty that founded commonweals, built cities, invented arts,
+made wholesome laws, armed men against vices, rewarded them with
+their own virtues, and preserved the honour and state of nations,
+till they betrayed themselves to riches.</p>
+<p><i>Amor nummi</i>.&mdash;Money never made any man rich, but
+his mind.&nbsp; He that can order himself to the law of Nature is
+not only without the sense but the fear of poverty.&nbsp; O! but
+to strike blind the people with our wealth and pomp is the
+thing!&nbsp; What a wretchedness is this, to thrust all our
+riches outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate nothing but
+the little, vile, and sordid things of the world; not the great,
+noble, and precious!&nbsp; We serve our avarice, and, not content
+with the good of the earth that is offered us, we search and dig
+for the evil that is hidden.&nbsp; God offered us those things,
+and placed them at hand, and near us, that He knew were
+profitable for us, but the hurtful He laid deep and hid.&nbsp;
+Yet do we seek only the things whereby we may perish, and bring
+them forth, when God and Nature hath buried them.&nbsp; We covet
+superfluous things, when it were more honour for us if we would
+contemn necessary.&nbsp; What need hath Nature of silver dishes,
+multitudes of waiters, delicate pages, perfumed napkins?&nbsp;
+She requires meat only, and hunger is not ambitious.&nbsp; Can we
+think no wealth enough but such a state for which a man may be
+brought into a premunire, begged, proscribed, or poisoned?&nbsp;
+O! if a man could restrain the fury of his gullet and groin, and
+think how many fires, how many kitchens, cooks, pastures, and
+ploughed lands; what orchards, stews, ponds and parks, coops and
+garners, he could spare; what velvets, tissues, embroideries,
+laces, he could lack; and then how short and uncertain his life
+is; he were in a better way to happiness than to live the emperor
+of these delights, and be the dictator of fashions; but we make
+ourselves slaves to our pleasures, and we serve fame and
+ambition, which is an equal slavery.&nbsp; Have not I seen the
+pomp of a whole kingdom, and what a foreign king could bring
+hither?&nbsp; Also to make himself gazed and wondered
+at&mdash;laid forth, as it were, to the show&mdash;and vanish all
+away in a day?&nbsp; And shall that which could not fill the
+expectation of few hours, entertain and take up our whole lives,
+when even it appeared as superfluous to the possessors as to me
+that was a spectator?&nbsp; The bravery was shown, it was not
+possessed; while it boasted itself it perished.&nbsp; It is vile,
+and a poor thing to place our happiness on these desires.&nbsp;
+Say we wanted them all.&nbsp; Famine ends famine.</p>
+<p><i>De mollibus et eff&oelig;minatis</i>.&mdash;There is
+nothing valiant or solid to be hoped for from such as are always
+kempt and perfumed, and every day smell of the tailor; the
+exceedingly curious that are wholly in mending such an
+imperfection in the face, in taking away the morphew in the neck,
+or bleaching their hands at midnight, gumming and bridling their
+beards, or making the waist small, binding it with hoops, while
+the mind runs at waste; too much pickedness is not manly.&nbsp;
+Not from those that will jest at their own outward imperfections,
+but hide their ulcers within, their pride, lust, envy,
+ill-nature, with all the art and authority they can.&nbsp; These
+persons are in danger, for whilst they think to justify their
+ignorance by impudence, and their persons by clothes and outward
+ornaments, they use but a commission to deceive themselves:
+where, if we will look with our understanding, and not our
+senses, we may behold virtue and beauty (though covered with
+rags) in their brightness; and vice and deformity so much the
+fouler, in having all the splendour of riches to gild them, or
+the false light of honour and power to help them.&nbsp; Yet this
+is that wherewith the world is taken, and runs mad to gaze
+on&mdash;clothes and titles, the birdlime of fools.</p>
+<p><i>De stultiti&acirc;</i>.&mdash;What petty things they are we
+wonder at, like children that esteem every trifle, and prefer a
+fairing before their fathers!&nbsp; What difference is between us
+and them but that we are dearer fools, coxcombs at a higher
+rate?&nbsp; They are pleased with cockleshells, whistles,
+hobby-horses, and such like; we with statues, marble pillars,
+pictures, gilded roofs, where underneath is lath and lime,
+perhaps loam.&nbsp; Yet we take pleasure in the lie, and are glad
+we can cozen ourselves.&nbsp; Nor is it only in our walls and
+ceilings, but all that we call happiness is mere painting and
+gilt, and all for money.&nbsp; What a thin membrane of honour
+that is! and how hath all true reputation fallen, since money
+began to have any!&nbsp; Yet the great herd, the multitude, that
+in all other things are divided, in this alone conspire and
+agree&mdash;to love money.&nbsp; They wish for it, they embrace
+it, they adore it, while yet it is possessed with greater stir
+and torment than it is gotten.</p>
+<p><i>De sibi molestis</i>.&mdash;Some men what losses soever
+they have they make them greater, and if they have none, even all
+that is not gotten is a loss.&nbsp; Can there be creatures of
+more wretched condition than these, that continually labour under
+their own misery and others&rsquo; envy?&nbsp; A man should study
+other things, not to covet, not to fear, not to repent him; to
+make his base such as no tempest shall shake him; to be secure of
+all opinion, and pleasing to himself, even for that wherein he
+displeaseth others; for the worst opinion gotten for doing well,
+should delight us.&nbsp; Wouldst not thou be just but for fame,
+thou oughtest to be it with infamy; he that would have his virtue
+published is not the servant of virtue, but glory.</p>
+<p><i>Periculosa melancholia</i>.&mdash;It is a dangerous thing
+when men&rsquo;s minds come to sojourn with their affections, and
+their diseases eat into their strength; that when too much desire
+and greediness of vice hath made the body unfit, or unprofitable,
+it is yet gladded with the sight and spectacle of it in others;
+and for want of ability to be an actor, is content to be a
+witness.&nbsp; It enjoys the pleasure of sinning in beholding
+others sin, as in dining, drinking, drabbing, &amp;c.&nbsp; Nay,
+when it cannot do all these, it is offended with his own
+narrowness, that excludes it from the universal delights of
+mankind, and oftentimes dies of a melancholy, that it cannot be
+vicious enough.</p>
+<p><i>Fals&aelig; species fugiend&aelig;</i>.&mdash;I am glad
+when I see any man avoid the infamy of a vice; but to shun the
+vice itself were better.&nbsp; Till he do that he is but like the
+&rsquo;pientice, who, being loth to be spied by his master coming
+forth of Black Lucy&rsquo;s, went in again; to whom his master
+cried, &ldquo;The more thou runnest that way to hide thyself, the
+more thou art in the place.&rdquo;&nbsp; So are those that keep a
+tavern all day, that they may not be seen at night.&nbsp; I have
+known lawyers, divines&mdash;yea, great ones&mdash;of this
+heresy.</p>
+<p><i>Decipimur specie</i>.&mdash;There is a greater reverence
+had of things remote or strange to us than of much better if they
+be nearer and fall under our sense.&nbsp; Men, and almost all
+sorts of creatures, have their reputation by distance.&nbsp;
+Rivers, the farther they run, and more from their spring, the
+broader they are, and greater.&nbsp; And where our original is
+known, we are less the confident; among strangers we trust
+fortune.&nbsp; Yet a man may live as renowned at home, in his own
+country, or a private village, as in the whole world.&nbsp; For
+it is virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a man
+everywhere.&nbsp; It is only that can naturalise him.&nbsp; A
+native, if he be vicious, deserves to be a stranger, and cast out
+of the commonwealth as an alien.</p>
+<p><i>Dejectio Aulic</i>.&mdash;A dejected countenance and mean
+clothes beget often a contempt, but it is with the shallowest
+creatures; courtiers commonly: look up even with them in a new
+suit, you get above them straight.&nbsp; Nothing is more
+short-lived than pride; it is but while their clothes last: stay
+but while these are worn out, you cannot wish the thing more
+wretched or dejected.</p>
+<p><i>Poesis</i>, <i>et pictura</i>.&mdash;<i>Plutarch</i>.&nbsp;
+Poetry and picture are arts of a like nature, and both are busy
+about imitation.&nbsp; It was excellently said of Plutarch,
+poetry was a speaking picture, and picture a mute poesy.&nbsp;
+For they both invent, feign and devise many things, and
+accommodate all they invent to the use and service of
+Nature.&nbsp; Yet of the two, the pen is more noble than the
+pencil; for that can speak to the understanding, the other but to
+the sense.&nbsp; They both behold pleasure and profit as their
+common object; but should abstain from all base pleasures, lest
+they should err from their end, and, while they seek to better
+men&rsquo;s minds, destroy their manners.&nbsp; They both are
+born artificers, not made.&nbsp; Nature is more powerful in them
+than study.</p>
+<p><i>De pictura</i>.&mdash;Whosoever loves not picture is
+injurious to truth and all the wisdom of poetry.&nbsp; Picture is
+the invention of heaven, the most ancient and most akin to
+Nature.&nbsp; It is itself a silent work, and always of one and
+the same habit; yet it doth so enter and penetrate the inmost
+affection (being done by an excellent artificer) as sometimes it
+overcomes the power of speech and oratory.&nbsp; There are divers
+graces in it, so are there in the artificers.&nbsp; One excels in
+care, another in reason, a third in easiness, a fourth in nature
+and grace.&nbsp; Some have diligence and comeliness, but they
+want majesty.&nbsp; They can express a human form in all the
+graces, sweetness, and elegancy, but, they miss the
+authority.&nbsp; They can hit nothing but smooth cheeks; they
+cannot express roughness or gravity.&nbsp; Others aspire to truth
+so much as they are rather lovers of likeness than beauty.&nbsp;
+Zeuxis and Parrhasius are said to be contemporaries; the first
+found out the reason of lights and shadows in picture, the other
+more subtlely examined the line.</p>
+<p><i>De stylo</i>.&mdash;<i>Pliny</i>.&mdash;In picture light is
+required no less than shadow; so in style, height as well as
+humbleness.&nbsp; But beware they be not too humble, as Pliny
+pronounced of Regulus&rsquo;s writings.&nbsp; You would think
+them written, not on a child, but by a child.&nbsp; Many, out of
+their own obscene apprehensions, refuse proper and fit
+words&mdash;as occupy, Nature, and the like; so the curious
+industry in some, of having all alike good, hath come nearer a
+vice than a virtue.</p>
+<p><i>De progres. pictur&aelig;</i>. <a name="citation93"></a><a
+href="#footnote93" class="citation">[93]</a>&nbsp; Picture took
+her feigning from poetry; from geometry her rule, compass, lines,
+proportion, and the whole symmetry.&nbsp; Parrhasius was the
+first won reputation by adding symmetry to picture; he added
+subtlety to the countenance, elegancy to the hair, love-lines to
+the face, and by the public voice of all artificers, deserved
+honour in the outer lines.&nbsp; Eupompus gave it splendour by
+numbers and other elegancies.&nbsp; From the optics it drew
+reasons, by which it considered how things placed at distance and
+afar off should appear less; how above or beneath the head should
+deceive the eye, &amp;c.&nbsp; So from thence it took shadows,
+recessor, light, and heightnings.&nbsp; From moral philosophy it
+took the soul, the expression of senses, perturbations, manners,
+when they would paint an angry person, a proud, an inconstant, an
+ambitious, a brave, a magnanimous, a just, a merciful, a
+compassionate, an humble, a dejected, a base, and the like; they
+made all heightnings bright, all shadows dark, all swellings from
+a plane, all solids from breaking.&nbsp; See where he complains
+of their painting Chim&aelig;ras <a name="citation94"></a><a
+href="#footnote94" class="citation">[94]</a> (by the vulgar
+unaptly called grotesque) saying that men who were born truly to
+study and emulate Nature did nothing but make monsters against
+Nature, which Horace so laughed at. <a name="citation95"></a><a
+href="#footnote95" class="citation">[95]</a> The art plastic was
+moulding in clay, or potter&rsquo;s earth anciently.&nbsp; This
+is the parent of statuary, sculpture, graving, and picture;
+cutting in brass and marble, all serve under her.&nbsp; Socrates
+taught Parrhasius and Clito (two noble statuaries) first to
+express manners by their looks in imagery.&nbsp; Polygnotus and
+Aglaophon were ancienter.&nbsp; After them Zeuxis, who was the
+lawgiver to all painters; after, Parrhasius.&nbsp; They were
+contemporaries, and lived both about Philip&rsquo;s time, the
+father of Alexander the Great.&nbsp; There lived in this latter
+age six famous painters in Italy, who were excellent and emulous
+of the ancients&mdash;Raphael de Urbino, Michael Angelo
+Buonarotti, Titian, Antony of Correggio, Sebastian of Venice,
+Julio Romano, and Andrea Sartorio.</p>
+<p><i>Parasiti ad mensam</i>.&mdash;These are flatterers for
+their bread, that praise all my oraculous lord does or says, be
+it true or false; invent tales that shall please; make baits for
+his lordship&rsquo;s ears; and if they be not received in what
+they offer at, they shift a point of the compass, and turn their
+tale, presently tack about, deny what they confessed, and confess
+what they denied; fit their discourse to the persons and
+occasions.&nbsp; What they snatch up and devour at one table,
+utter at another; and grow suspected of the master, hated of the
+servants, while they inquire, and reprehend, and compound, and
+dilate business of the house they have nothing to do with.&nbsp;
+They praise my lord&rsquo;s wine and the sauce he likes; observe
+the cook and bottle-man; while they stand in my lord&rsquo;s
+favour, speak for a pension for them, but pound them to dust upon
+my lord&rsquo;s least distaste, or change of his palate.</p>
+<p>How much better is it to be silent, or at least to speak
+sparingly! for it is not enough to speak good, but timely
+things.&nbsp; If a man be asked a question, to answer; but to
+repeat the question before he answer is well, that he be sure to
+understand it, to avoid absurdity; for it is less dishonour to
+hear imperfectly than to speak imperfectly.&nbsp; The ears are
+excused, the understanding is not.&nbsp; And in things unknown to
+a man, not to give his opinion, lest by the affectation of
+knowing too much he lose the credit he hath, by speaking or
+knowing the wrong way what he utters.&nbsp; Nor seek to get his
+patron&rsquo;s favour by embarking himself in the factions of the
+family, to inquire after domestic simulties, their sports or
+affections.&nbsp; They are an odious and vile kind of creatures,
+that fly about the house all day, and picking up the filth of the
+house like pies or swallows, carry it to their nest (the
+lord&rsquo;s ears), and oftentimes report the lies they have
+feigned for what they have seen and heard.</p>
+<p><i>Im&ograve; serviles</i>.&mdash;These are called instruments
+of grace and power with great persons, but they are indeed the
+organs of their impotency, and marks of weakness.&nbsp; For
+sufficient lords are able to make these discoveries
+themselves.&nbsp; Neither will an honourable person inquire who
+eats and drinks together, what that man plays, whom this man
+loves, with whom such a one walks, what discourse they hold, who
+sleeps with whom.&nbsp; They are base and servile natures that
+busy themselves about these disquisitions.&nbsp; How often have I
+seen (and worthily) these censors of the family undertaken by
+some honest rustic and cudgelled thriftily!&nbsp; These are
+commonly the off-scouring and dregs of men that do these things,
+or calumniate others; yet I know not truly which is
+worse&mdash;he that maligns all, or that praises all.&nbsp; There
+is as a vice in praising, and as frequent, as in detracting.</p>
+<p>It pleased your lordship of late to ask my opinion touching
+the education of your sons, and especially to the advancement of
+their studies.&nbsp; To which, though I returned somewhat for the
+present, which rather manifested a will in me than gave any just
+resolution to the thing propounded, I have upon better cogitation
+called those aids about me, both of mind and memory, which shall
+venture my thoughts clearer, if not fuller, to your
+lordship&rsquo;s demand.&nbsp; I confess, my lord, they will seem
+but petty and minute things I shall offer to you, being writ for
+children, and of them.&nbsp; But studies have their infancy as
+well as creatures.&nbsp; We see in men even the strongest
+compositions had their beginnings from milk and the cradle; and
+the wisest tarried sometimes about apting their mouths to letters
+and syllables.&nbsp; In their education, therefore, the care must
+be the greater had of their beginnings, to know, examine, and
+weigh their natures; which, though they be proner in some
+children to some disciplines, yet are they naturally prompt to
+taste all by degrees, and with change.&nbsp; For change is a kind
+of refreshing in studies, and infuseth knowledge by way of
+recreation.&nbsp; Thence the school itself is called a play or
+game, and all letters are so best taught to scholars.&nbsp; They
+should not be affrighted or deterred in their entry, but drawn on
+with exercise and emulation.&nbsp; A youth should not be made to
+hate study before he know the causes to love it, or taste the
+bitterness before the sweet; but called on and allured, entreated
+and praised&mdash;yea, when he deserves it not.&nbsp; For which
+cause I wish them sent to the best school, and a public, which I
+think the best.&nbsp; Your lordship, I fear, hardly hears of
+that, as willing to breed them in your eye and at home, and
+doubting their manners may be corrupted abroad.&nbsp; They are in
+more danger in your own family, among ill servants (allowing they
+be safe in their schoolmaster), than amongst a thousand boys,
+however immodest.&nbsp; Would we did not spoil our own children,
+and overthrow their manners ourselves by too much
+indulgence!&nbsp; To breed them at home is to breed them in a
+shade, whereas in a school they have the light and heat of the
+sun.&nbsp; They are used and accustomed to things and men.&nbsp;
+When they come forth into the common-wealth, they find nothing
+new, or to seek.&nbsp; They have made their friendships and aids,
+some to last their age.&nbsp; They hear what is commanded to
+others as well as themselves; much approved, much corrected; all
+which they bring to their own store and use, and learn as much as
+they hear.&nbsp; Eloquence would be but a poor thing if we should
+only converse with singulars, speak but man and man
+together.&nbsp; Therefore I like no private breeding.&nbsp; I
+would send them where their industry should be daily increased by
+praise, and that kindled by emulation.&nbsp; It is a good thing
+to inflame the mind; and though ambition itself be a vice, it is
+often the cause of great virtue.&nbsp; Give me that wit whom
+praise excites, glory puts on, or disgrace grieves; he is to be
+nourished with ambition, pricked forward with honour, checked
+with reprehension, and never to be suspected of sloth.&nbsp;
+Though he be given to play, it is a sign of spirit and
+liveliness, so there be a mean had of their sports and
+relaxations.&nbsp; And from the rod or ferule I would have them
+free, as from the menace of them; for it is both deformed and
+servile.</p>
+<p><i>De stylo</i>, <i>et optimo scribendi genere</i>.&mdash;For
+a man to write well, there are required three
+necessaries&mdash;to read the best authors, observe the best
+speakers, and much exercise of his own style; in style to
+consider what ought to be written, and after what manner.&nbsp;
+He must first think and excogitate his matter, then choose his
+words, and examine the weight of either.&nbsp; Then take care, in
+placing and ranking both matter and words, that the composition
+be comely; and to do this with diligence and often.&nbsp; No
+matter how slow the style be at first, so it be laboured and
+accurate; seek the best, and be not glad of the froward conceits,
+or first words, that offer themselves to us; but judge of what we
+invent, and order what we approve.&nbsp; Repeat often what we
+have formerly written; which beside that it helps the
+consequence, and makes the juncture better, it quickens the heat
+of imagination, that often cools in the time of setting down, and
+gives it new strength, as if it grew lustier by the going back;
+as we see in the contention of leaping, they jump farthest that
+fetch their race largest; or, as in throwing a dart or javelin,
+we force back our arms to make our loose the stronger.&nbsp; Yet,
+if we have a fair gale of wind, I forbid not the steering out of
+our sail, so the favour of the gale deceive us not.&nbsp; For all
+that we invent doth please us in conception of birth, else we
+would never set it down.&nbsp; But the safest is to return to our
+judgment, and handle over again those things the easiness of
+which might make them justly suspected.&nbsp; So did the best
+writers in their beginnings; they imposed upon themselves care
+and industry; they did nothing rashly: they obtained first to
+write well, and then custom made it easy and a habit.&nbsp; By
+little and little their matter showed itself to them more
+plentifully; their words answered, their composition followed;
+and all, as in a well-ordered family, presented itself in the
+place.&nbsp; So that the sum of all is, ready writing makes not
+good writing, but good writing brings on ready writing yet, when
+we think we have got the faculty, it is even then good to resist
+it, as to give a horse a check sometimes with a bit, which doth
+not so much stop his course as stir his mettle.&nbsp; Again,
+whether a man&rsquo;s genius is best able to reach thither, it
+should more and more contend, lift and dilate itself, as men of
+low stature raise themselves on their toes, and so ofttimes get
+even, if not eminent.&nbsp; Besides, as it is fit for grown and
+able writers to stand of themselves, and work with their own
+strength, to trust and endeavour by their own faculties, so it is
+fit for the beginner and learner to study others and the
+best.&nbsp; For the mind and memory are more sharply exercised in
+comprehending another man&rsquo;s things than our own; and such
+as accustom themselves and are familiar with the best authors
+shall ever and anon find somewhat of them in themselves, and in
+the expression of their minds, even when they feel it not, be
+able to utter something like theirs, which hath an authority
+above their own.&nbsp; Nay, sometimes it is the reward of a
+man&rsquo;s study, the praise of quoting another man fitly; and
+though a man be more prone and able for one kind of writing than
+another, yet he must exercise all.&nbsp; For as in an instrument,
+so in style, there must be a harmony and consent of parts.</p>
+<p><i>Pr&aelig;cipiendi modi</i>.&mdash;I take this labour in
+teaching others, that they should not be always to be taught, and
+I would bring my precepts into practice, for rules are ever of
+less force and value than experiments; yet with this purpose,
+rather to show the right way to those that come after, than to
+detect any that have slipped before by error, and I hope it will
+be more profitable.&nbsp; For men do more willingly listen, and
+with more favour, to precept, than reprehension.&nbsp; Among
+divers opinions of an art, and most of them contrary in
+themselves, it is hard to make election; and, therefore, though a
+man cannot invent new things after so many, he may do a welcome
+work yet to help posterity to judge rightly of the old.&nbsp; But
+arts and precepts avail nothing, except Nature be beneficial and
+aiding.&nbsp; And therefore these things are no more written to a
+dull disposition, than rules of husbandry to a soil.&nbsp; No
+precepts will profit a fool, no more than beauty will the blind,
+or music the deaf.&nbsp; As we should take care that our style in
+writing be neither dry nor empty, we should look again it be not
+winding, or wanton with far-fetched descriptions; either is a
+vice.&nbsp; But that is worse which proceeds out of want, than
+that which riots out of plenty.&nbsp; The remedy of fruitfulness
+is easy, but no labour will help the contrary; I will like and
+praise some things in a young writer which yet, if he continue
+in, I cannot but justly hate him for the same.&nbsp; There is a
+time to be given all things for maturity, and that even your
+country husband-man can teach, who to a young plant will not put
+the pruning-knife, because it seems to fear the iron, as not able
+to admit the scar.&nbsp; No more would I tell a green writer all
+his faults, lest I should make him grieve and faint, and at last
+despair; for nothing doth more hurt than to make him so afraid of
+all things as he can endeavour nothing.&nbsp; Therefore youth
+ought to be instructed betimes, and in the best things; for we
+hold those longest we take soonest, as the first scent of a
+vessel lasts, and the tint the wool first receives; therefore a
+master should temper his own powers, and descend to the
+other&rsquo;s infirmity.&nbsp; If you pour a glut of water upon a
+bottle, it receives little of it; but with a funnel, and by
+degrees, you shall fill many of them, and spill little of your
+own; to their capacity they will all receive and be full.&nbsp;
+And as it is fit to read the best authors to youth first, so let
+them be of the openest and clearest. <a
+name="citation106a"></a><a href="#footnote106a"
+class="citation">[106a]</a>&nbsp; As Livy before Sallust, Sidney
+before Donne; and beware of letting them taste Gower or Chaucer
+at first, lest, falling too much in love with antiquity, and not
+apprehending the weight, they grow rough and barren in language
+only.&nbsp; When their judgments are firm, and out of danger, let
+them read both the old and the new; but no less take heed that
+their new flowers and sweetness do not as much corrupt as the
+others&rsquo; dryness and squalor, if they choose not
+carefully.&nbsp; Spenser, in affecting the ancients, writ no
+language; yet I would have him read for his matter, but as Virgil
+read Ennius.&nbsp; The reading of Homer and Virgil is counselled
+by Quintilian as the best way of informing youth and confirming
+man.&nbsp; For, besides that the mind is raised with the height
+and sublimity of such a verse, it takes spirit from the greatness
+of the matter, and is tinctured with the best things.&nbsp;
+Tragic and lyric poetry is good, too, and comic with the best, if
+the manners of the reader be once in safety.&nbsp; In the Greek
+poets, as also in Plautus, we shall see the economy and
+disposition of poems better observed than in Terence; and the
+latter, who thought the sole grace and virtue of their fable the
+sticking in of sentences, as ours do the forcing in of jests.</p>
+<p><i>Fals. querel. fugiend. Platonis peregrinatio in
+Italiam</i>.&mdash;We should not protect our sloth with the
+patronage of difficulty.&nbsp; It is a false quarrel against
+Nature, that she helps understanding but in a few, when the most
+part of mankind are inclined by her thither, if they would take
+the pains; no less than birds to fly, horses to run, &amp;c.,
+which if they lose, it is through their own sluggishness, and by
+that means become her prodigies, not her children.&nbsp; I
+confess, Nature in children is more patient of labour in study
+than in age; for the sense of the pain, the judgment of the
+labour is absent; they do not measure what they have done.&nbsp;
+And it is the thought and consideration that affects us more than
+the weariness itself.&nbsp; Plato was not content with the
+learning that Athens could give him, but sailed into Italy, for
+Pythagoras&rsquo; knowledge: and yet not thinking himself
+sufficiently informed, went into Egypt, to the priests, and
+learned their mysteries.&nbsp; He laboured, so must we.&nbsp;
+Many things may be learned together, and performed in one point
+of time; as musicians exercise their memory, their voice, their
+fingers, and sometimes their head and feet at once.&nbsp; And so
+a preacher, in the invention of matter, election of words,
+composition of gesture, look, pronunciation, motion, useth all
+these faculties at once: and if we can express this variety
+together, why should not divers studies, at divers hours,
+delight, when the variety is able alone to refresh and repair
+us?&nbsp; As, when a man is weary of writing, to read; and then
+again of reading, to write.&nbsp; Wherein, howsoever we do many
+things, yet are we (in a sort) still fresh to what we begin; we
+are recreated with change, as the stomach is with meats.&nbsp;
+But some will say this variety breeds confusion, and makes, that
+either we lose all, or hold no more than the last.&nbsp; Why do
+we not then persuade husbandmen that they should not till land,
+help it with marl, lime, and compost? plant hop-gardens, prune
+trees, look to bee-hives, rear sheep, and all other cattle at
+once?&nbsp; It is easier to do many things and continue, than to
+do one thing long.</p>
+<p><i>Pr&aelig;cept. element</i>.&mdash;It is not the passing
+through these learnings that hurts us, but the dwelling and
+sticking about them.&nbsp; To descend to those extreme anxieties
+and foolish cavils of grammarians, is able to break a wit in
+pieces, being a work of manifold misery and vainness, to be
+<i>elementarii senes</i>.&nbsp; Yet even letters are, as it were,
+the bank of words, and restore themselves to an author as the
+pawns of language: but talking and eloquence are not the same: to
+speak, and to speak well, are two things.&nbsp; A fool may talk,
+but a wise man speaks; and out of the observation, knowledge, and
+the use of things, many writers perplex their readers and hearers
+with mere nonsense.&nbsp; Their writings need sunshine.&nbsp;
+Pure and neat language I love, yet plain and customary.&nbsp; A
+barbarous phrase has often made me out of love with a good sense,
+and doubtful writing hath wracked me beyond my patience.&nbsp;
+The reason why a poet is said that he ought to have all
+knowledges is, that he should not be ignorant of the most,
+especially of those he will handle.&nbsp; And indeed, when the
+attaining of them is possible, it were a sluggish and base thing
+to despair; for frequent imitation of anything becomes a habit
+quickly.&nbsp; If a man should prosecute as much as could be said
+of everything, his work would find no end.</p>
+<p><i>De orationis dignitate</i>.&nbsp;
+&rsquo;&Epsilon;&gamma;&kappa;&upsilon;&kappa;&lambda;&omicron;&pi;&alpha;&iota;&delta;&epsilon;&#943;&alpha;.&mdash;<i>Metaphora</i>.&nbsp;
+Speech is the only benefit man hath to express his excellency of
+mind above other creatures.&nbsp; It is the instrument of
+society; therefore Mercury, who is the president of language, is
+called <i>deorum hominumque interpres</i>. <a
+name="citation110a"></a><a href="#footnote110a"
+class="citation">[110a]</a>&nbsp; In all speech, words and sense
+are as the body and the soul.&nbsp; The sense is as the life and
+soul of language, without which all words are dead.&nbsp; Sense
+is wrought out of experience, the knowledge of human life and
+actions, or of the liberal arts, which the Greeks called
+&rsquo;&Epsilon;&gamma;&kappa;&upsilon;&kappa;&lambda;&omicron;&pi;&alpha;&iota;&delta;&epsilon;&#943;&alpha;&nu;.&nbsp;
+Words are the people&rsquo;s, yet there is a choice of them to be
+made; for <i>verborum delectus origo est eloquenti&aelig;</i>. <a
+name="citation111a"></a><a href="#footnote111a"
+class="citation">[111a]</a>&nbsp; They are to be chosen according
+to the persons we make speak, or the things we speak of.&nbsp;
+Some are of the camp, some of the council-board, some of the
+shop, some of the sheepcote, some of the pulpit, some of the Bar,
+&amp;c.&nbsp; And herein is seen their elegance and propriety,
+when we use them fitly and draw them forth to their just strength
+and nature by way of translation or metaphor.&nbsp; But in this
+translation we must only serve necessity (<i>nam temer&egrave;
+nihil transfertur &agrave; prudenti</i>) <a
+name="citation111b"></a><a href="#footnote111b"
+class="citation">[111b]</a> or commodity, which is a kind of
+necessity: that is, when we either absolutely want a word to
+express by, and that is necessity; or when we have not so fit a
+word, and that is commodity; as when we avoid loss by it, and
+escape obsceneness, and gain in the grace and property which
+helps significance.&nbsp; Metaphors far-fetched hinder to be
+understood; and affected, lose their grace.&nbsp; Or when the
+person fetcheth his translations from a wrong place as if a privy
+councillor should at the table take his metaphor from a
+dicing-house, or ordinary, or a vintner&rsquo;s vault; or a
+justice of peace draw his similitudes from the mathematics, or a
+divine from a bawdy house, or taverns; or a gentleman of
+Northamptonshire, Warwickshire, or the Midland, should fetch all
+the illustrations to his country neighbours from shipping, and
+tell them of the main-sheet and the bowline.&nbsp; Metaphors are
+thus many times deformed, as in him that said, <i>Castratam morte
+Africani rempublicam</i>; and another, <i>Stercus curi&aelig;
+Glauciam</i>, and <i>Can&acirc; nive conspuit Alpes</i>.&nbsp;
+All attempts that are new in this kind, are dangerous, and
+somewhat hard, before they be softened with use.&nbsp; A man
+coins not a new word without some peril and less fruit; for if it
+happen to be received, the praise is but moderate; if refused,
+the scorn is assured.&nbsp; Yet we must adventure; for things at
+first hard and rough are by use made tender and gentle.&nbsp; It
+is an honest error that is committed, following great chiefs.</p>
+<p><i>Consuetudo</i>.&mdash;<i>Perspicuitas</i>,
+<i>Venustas</i>.&mdash;<i>Authoritas</i>.&mdash;<i>Virgil</i>.&mdash;<i>Lucretius</i>.&mdash;<i>Chaucerism</i>.&mdash;<i>Paronomasia</i>.&mdash;Custom
+is the most certain mistress of language, as the public stamp
+makes the current money.&nbsp; But we must not be too frequent
+with the mint, every day coining, nor fetch words from the
+extreme and utmost ages; since the chief virtue of a style is
+perspicuity, and nothing so vicious in it as to need an
+interpreter.&nbsp; Words borrowed of antiquity do lend a kind of
+majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes;
+for they have the authority of years, and out of their
+intermission do win themselves a kind of grace like
+newness.&nbsp; But the eldest of the present, and newness of the
+past language, is the best.&nbsp; For what was the ancient
+language, which some men so dote upon, but the ancient
+custom?&nbsp; Yet when I name custom, I understand not the vulgar
+custom; for that were a precept no less dangerous to language
+than life, if we should speak or live after the manners of the
+vulgar: but that I call custom of speech, which is the consent of
+the learned; as custom of life, which is the consent of the
+good.&nbsp; Virgil was most loving of antiquity; yet how rarely
+doth he insert <i>aquai</i> and <i>pictai</i>!&nbsp; Lucretius is
+scabrous and rough in these; he seeks them: as some do
+Chaucerisms with us, which were better expunged and
+banished.&nbsp; Some words are to be culled out for ornament and
+colour, as we gather flowers to strew houses or make garlands;
+but they are better when they grow to our style; as in a meadow,
+where, though the mere grass and greenness delight, yet the
+variety of flowers doth heighten and beautify.&nbsp; Marry, we
+must not play or riot too much with them, as in Paronomasies; nor
+use too swelling or ill-sounding words!&nbsp; <i>Qu&aelig; per
+salebras</i>, <i>altaque saxa cadunt</i>. <a
+name="citation114a"></a><a href="#footnote114a"
+class="citation">[114a]</a>&nbsp; It is true, there is no sound
+but shall find some lovers, as the bitterest confections are
+grateful to some palates.&nbsp; Our composition must be more
+accurate in the beginning and end than in the midst, and in the
+end more than in the beginning; for through the midst the stream
+bears us.&nbsp; And this is attained by custom, more than care of
+diligence.&nbsp; We must express readily and fully, not
+profusely.&nbsp; There is difference between a liberal and
+prodigal hand.&nbsp; As it is a great point of art, when our
+matter requires it, to enlarge and veer out all sail, so to take
+it in and contract it, is of no less praise, when the argument
+doth ask it.&nbsp; Either of them hath their fitness in the
+place.&nbsp; A good man always profits by his endeavour, by his
+help, yea, when he is absent; nay, when he is dead, by his
+example and memory.&nbsp; So good authors in their style: a
+strict and succinct style is that where you can take away nothing
+without loss, and that loss to be manifest.</p>
+<p><i>De Stylo</i>.&mdash;<i>Tracitus</i>.&mdash;<i>The
+Laconic</i>.&mdash;<i>Suetonius</i>.&mdash;<i>Seneca and
+Fabianus</i>.&mdash;The brief style is that which expresseth much
+in little; the concise style, which expresseth not enough, but
+leaves somewhat to be understood; the abrupt style, which hath
+many breaches, and doth not seem to end, but fall.&nbsp; The
+congruent and harmonious fitting of parts in a sentence hath
+almost the fastening and force of knitting and connection; as in
+stones well squared, which will rise strong a great way without
+mortar.</p>
+<p><i>Periodi</i>.&mdash;<i>Obscuritas offundit
+tenebras</i>.&mdash;<i>Superlatio</i>.&mdash;Periods are
+beautiful when they are not too long; for so they have their
+strength too, as in a pike or javelin.&nbsp; As we must take the
+care that our words and sense be clear, so if the obscurity
+happen through the hearer&rsquo;s or reader&rsquo;s want of
+understanding, I am not to answer for them, no more than for
+their not listening or marking; I must neither find them ears nor
+mind.&nbsp; But a man cannot put a word so in sense but something
+about it will illustrate it, if the writer understand himself;
+for order helps much to perspicuity, as confusion hurts.&nbsp;
+(<i>Rectitudo lucem adfert</i>; <i>obliquitas et circumductio
+offuscat</i>. <a name="citation116a"></a><a href="#footnote116a"
+class="citation">[116a]</a>)&nbsp; We should therefore speak what
+we can the nearest way, so as we keep our gait, not leap; for too
+short may as well be not let into the memory, as too long not
+kept in.&nbsp; Whatsoever loseth the grace and clearness,
+converts into a riddle; the obscurity is marked, but not the
+value.&nbsp; That perisheth, and is passed by, like the pearl in
+the fable.&nbsp; Our style should be like a skein of silk, to be
+carried and found by the right thread, not ravelled and
+perplexed; then all is a knot, a heap.&nbsp; There are words that
+do as much raise a style as others can depress it.&nbsp;
+Superlation and over-muchness amplifies; it may be above faith,
+but never above a mean.&nbsp; It was ridiculous in Cestius, when
+he said of Alexander:</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Fremit oceanus, quasi indignetur,
+qu&ograve;d terras relinquas.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation117a"></a><a href="#footnote117a"
+class="citation">[117a]</a></p>
+<p>But propitiously from Virgil:</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Credas innare revulsas<br />
+Cycladas.&rdquo; <a name="citation117b"></a><a
+href="#footnote117b" class="citation">[117b]</a></p>
+<p>He doth not say it was so, but seemed to be so.&nbsp; Although
+it be somewhat incredible, that is excused before it be
+spoken.&nbsp; But there are hyperboles which will become one
+language, that will by no means admit another.&nbsp; As <i>Eos
+esse</i> P. R. <i>exercitus</i>, <i>qui c&aelig;lum possint
+perrumpere</i>, <a name="citation118a"></a><a
+href="#footnote118a" class="citation">[118a]</a> who would say
+with us, but a madman?&nbsp; Therefore we must consider in every
+tongue what is used, what received.&nbsp; Quintilian warns us,
+that in no kind of translation, or metaphor, or allegory, we make
+a turn from what we began; as if we fetch the original of our
+metaphor from sea and billows, we end not in flames and ashes: it
+is a most foul inconsequence.&nbsp; Neither must we draw out our
+allegory too long, lest either we make ourselves obscure, or fall
+into affectation, which is childish.&nbsp; But why do men depart
+at all from the right and natural ways of speaking? sometimes for
+necessity, when we are driven, or think it fitter, to speak that
+in obscure words, or by circumstance, which uttered plainly would
+offend the hearers.&nbsp; Or to avoid obsceneness, or sometimes
+for pleasure, and variety, as travellers turn out of the highway,
+drawn either by the commodity of a footpath, or the delicacy or
+freshness of the fields.&nbsp; And all this is called
+&epsilon;&sigma;&chi;&eta;&mu;&alpha;&tau;&iota;&sigma;&mu;&epsilon;&nu;&eta;
+or figured language.</p>
+<p><i>Oratio imago animi</i>.&mdash;Language most shows a man:
+Speak, that I may see thee.&nbsp; It springs out of the most
+retired and inmost parts of us, and is the image of the parent of
+it, the mind.&nbsp; No glass renders a man&rsquo;s form or
+likeness so true as his speech.&nbsp; Nay, it is likened to a
+man; and as we consider feature and composition in a man, so
+words in language; in the greatness, aptness, sound structure,
+and harmony of it.</p>
+<p><i>Structura et statura</i>, <i>sublimis</i>, <i>humilis</i>,
+<i>pumila</i>.&mdash;Some men are tall and big, so some language
+is high and great.&nbsp; Then the words are chosen, their sound
+ample, the composition full, the absolution plenteous, and poured
+out, all grave, sinewy, and strong.&nbsp; Some are little and
+dwarfs; so of speech, it is humble and low, the words poor and
+flat, the members and periods thin and weak, without knitting or
+number.</p>
+<p><i>Mediocris plana et placida</i>.&mdash;The middle are of a
+just stature.&nbsp; There the language is plain and pleasing;
+even without stopping, round without swelling: all well-turned,
+composed, elegant, and accurate.</p>
+<p><i>Vitiosa oratio</i>,
+<i>vasta</i>&mdash;<i>tumens</i>&mdash;<i>enormis</i>&mdash;<i>affectata</i>&mdash;<i>abjecta</i>.&mdash;The
+vicious language is vast and gaping, swelling and irregular: when
+it contends to be high, full of rock, mountain, and pointedness;
+as it affects to be low, it is abject, and creeps, full of bogs
+and holes.&nbsp; And according to their subject these styles
+vary, and lose their names: for that which is high and lofty,
+declaring excellent matter, becomes vast and tumorous, speaking
+of petty and inferior things; so that which was even and apt in a
+mean and plain subject, will appear most poor and humble in a
+high argument.&nbsp; Would you not laugh to meet a great
+councillor of State in a flat cap, with his trunk hose, and a
+hobbyhorse cloak, his gloves under his girdle, and yond
+haberdasher in a velvet gown, furred with sables?&nbsp; There is
+a certain latitude in these things, by which we find the
+degrees.</p>
+<p><i>Figura</i>.&mdash;The next thing to the stature, is the
+figure and feature in language&mdash;that is, whether it be round
+and straight, which consists of short and succinct periods,
+numerous and polished; or square and firm, which is to have equal
+and strong parts everywhere answerable, and weighed.</p>
+<p><i>Cutis sive cortex</i>.&nbsp; <i>Compositio</i>.&mdash;The
+third is the skin and coat, which rests in the well-joining,
+cementing, and coagmentation of words; whenas it is smooth,
+gentle, and sweet, like a table upon which you may run your
+finger without rubs, and your nail cannot find a joint; not
+horrid, rough, wrinkled, gaping, or chapped: after these, the
+flesh, blood, and bones come in question.</p>
+
+<p><i>Carnosa</i>&mdash;<i>adipata</i>&mdash;<i>redundans</i>.&mdash;We
+say it is a fleshy style, when there is much periphrasis, and
+circuit of words; and when with more than enough, it grows fat
+and corpulent: <i>arvina orationis</i>, full of suet and
+tallow.&nbsp; It hath blood and juice when the words are proper
+and apt, their sound sweet, and the phrase neat and
+picked&mdash;<i>oratio uncta</i>, <i>et ben&egrave;
+pasta</i>.&nbsp; But where there is redundancy, both the blood
+and juice are faulty and vicious:&mdash;<i>Redundat sanguine</i>,
+<i>quia multo plus dicit</i>, <i>quam necesse est</i>.&nbsp;
+Juice in language is somewhat less than blood; for if the words
+be but becoming and signifying, and the sense gentle, there is
+juice; but where that wanteth, the language is thin, flagging,
+poor, starved, scarce covering the bone, and shows like stones in
+a sack.</p>
+<p><i>Jejuna</i>, <i>macilenta</i>,
+<i>strigosa</i>.&mdash;<i>Ossea</i>, <i>et
+nervosa</i>.&mdash;Some men, to avoid redundancy, run into that;
+and while they strive to have no ill blood or juice, they lose
+their good.&nbsp; There be some styles, again, that have not less
+blood, but less flesh and corpulence.&nbsp; These are bony and
+sinewy; <i>Ossa habent</i>, <i>et nervos</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Not&aelig; domini Sti. Albani de doctrin.
+intemper</i>.&mdash;<i>Dictator</i>.&mdash;<i>Aristoteles</i>.&mdash;It
+was well noted by the late Lord St. Albans, that the study of
+words is the first distemper of learning; vain matter the second;
+and a third distemper is deceit, or the likeness of truth:
+imposture held up by credulity.&nbsp; All these are the cobwebs
+of learning, and to let them grow in us is either sluttish or
+foolish.&nbsp; Nothing is more ridiculous than to make an author
+a dictator, as the schools have done Aristotle.&nbsp; The damage
+is infinite knowledge receives by it; for to many things a man
+should owe but a temporary belief, and suspension of his own
+judgment, not an absolute resignation of himself, or a perpetual
+captivity.&nbsp; Let Aristotle and others have their dues; but if
+we can make farther discoveries of truth and fitness than they,
+why are we envied?&nbsp; Let us beware, while we strive to add,
+we do not diminish or deface; we may improve, but not
+augment.&nbsp; By discrediting falsehood, truth grows in
+request.&nbsp; We must not go about, like men anguished and
+perplexed, for vicious affectation of praise, but calmly study
+the separation of opinions, find the errors have intervened,
+awake antiquity, call former times into question; but make no
+parties with the present, nor follow any fierce undertakers,
+mingle no matter of doubtful credit with the simplicity of truth,
+but gently stir the mould about the root of the question, and
+avoid all digladiations, facility of credit, or superstitious
+simplicity, seek the consonancy and concatenation of truth; stoop
+only to point of necessity, and what leads to convenience.&nbsp;
+Then make exact animadversion where style hath degenerated, where
+flourished and thrived in choiceness of phrase, round and clean
+composition of sentence, sweet falling of the clause, varying an
+illustration by tropes and figures, weight of matter, worth of
+subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, and depth of
+judgment.&nbsp; This is <i>monte potiri</i>, to get the hill; for
+no perfect discovery can be made upon a flat or a level.</p>
+<p><i>De optimo scriptore</i>.&mdash;<i>Cicero</i>.&mdash;Now
+that I have informed you in the knowing of these things, let me
+lead you by the hand a little farther, in the direction of the
+use, and make you an able writer by practice.&nbsp; The conceits
+of the mind are pictures of things, and the tongue is the
+interpreter of those pictures.&nbsp; The order of God&rsquo;s
+creatures in themselves is not only admirable and glorious, but
+eloquent: then he who could apprehend the consequence of things
+in their truth, and utter his apprehensions as truly, were the
+best writer or speaker.&nbsp; Therefore Cicero said much, when he
+said, <i>Dicere recte nemo potest</i>, <i>nisi qui prudenter
+intelligit</i>. <a name="citation124a"></a><a
+href="#footnote124a" class="citation">[124a]</a>&nbsp; The shame
+of speaking unskilfully were small if the tongue only thereby
+were disgraced; but as the image of a king in his seal
+ill-represented is not so much a blemish to the wax, or the
+signet that sealed it, as to the prince it representeth, so
+disordered speech is not so much injury to the lips that give it
+forth, as to the disproportion and incoherence of things in
+themselves, so negligently expressed.&nbsp; Neither can his mind
+be thought to be in tune, whose words do jar; nor his reason in
+frame, whose sentence is preposterous; nor his elocution clear
+and perfect, whose utterance breaks itself into fragments and
+uncertainties.&nbsp; Were it not a dishonour to a mighty prince,
+to have the majesty of his embassage spoiled by a careless
+ambassador? and is it not as great an indignity, that an
+excellent conceit and capacity, by the indiligence of an idle
+tongue, should be disgraced?&nbsp; Negligent speech doth not only
+discredit the person of the speaker, but it discrediteth the
+opinion of his reason and judgment; it discrediteth the force and
+uniformity of the matter and substance.&nbsp; If it be so then in
+words, which fly and escape censure, and where one good phrase
+begs pardon for many incongruities and faults, how shall he then
+be thought wise whose penning is thin and shallow? how shall you
+look for wit from him whose leisure and head, assisted with the
+examination of his eyes, yield you no life or sharpness in his
+writing?</p>
+<p><i>De stylo epistolari</i>.&mdash;<i>Inventio</i>.&mdash;In
+writing there is to be regarded the invention and the
+fashion.&nbsp; For the invention, that ariseth upon your
+business, whereof there can be no rules of more certainty, or
+precepts of better direction given, than conjecture can lay down
+from the several occasions of men&rsquo;s particular lives and
+vocations: but sometimes men make baseness of kindness: As
+&ldquo;I could not satisfy myself till I had discharged my
+remembrance, and charged my letters with commendation to
+you;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;My business is no other than to testify my
+love to you, and to put you in mind of my willingness to do you
+all kind offices;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;Sir, have you leisure to
+descend to the remembering of that assurance you have long
+possessed in your servant, and upon your next opportunity make
+him happy with some commands from you?&rdquo; or the like; that
+go a-begging for some meaning, and labour to be delivered of the
+great burden of nothing.&nbsp; When you have invented, and that
+your business be matter, and not bare form, or mere ceremony, but
+some earnest, then are you to proceed to the ordering of it, and
+digesting the parts, which is had out of two circumstances.&nbsp;
+One is the understanding of the persons to whom you are to write;
+the other is the coherence of your sentence; for men&rsquo;s
+capacity to weigh what will be apprehended with greatest
+attention or leisure; what next regarded and longed for
+especially, and what last will leave satisfaction, and (as it
+were) the sweetest memorial and belief of all that is passed in
+his understanding whom you write to.&nbsp; For the consequence of
+sentences, you must be sure that every clause do give the cue one
+to the other, and be bespoken ere it come.&nbsp; So much for
+invention and order.</p>
+<p><i>Modus</i>.&mdash;1.&nbsp; <i>Brevitas</i>.&mdash;Now for
+fashion: it consists in four things, which are qualities of your
+style.&nbsp; The first is brevity; for they must not be treatises
+or discourses (your letters) except it be to learned men.&nbsp;
+And even among them there is a kind of thrift and saving of
+words.&nbsp; Therefore you are to examine the clearest passages
+of your understanding, and through them to convey the sweetest
+and most significant words you can devise, that you may the
+easier teach them the readiest way to another man&rsquo;s
+apprehension, and open their meaning fully, roundly, and
+distinctly, so as the reader may not think a second view cast
+away upon your letter.&nbsp; And though respect be a part
+following this, yet now here, and still I must remember it, if
+you write to a man, whose estate and sense, as senses, you are
+familiar with, you may the bolder (to set a task to his brain)
+venture on a knot.&nbsp; But if to your superior, you are bound
+to measure him in three farther points: first, with interest in
+him; secondly, his capacity in your letters; thirdly, his leisure
+to peruse them.&nbsp; For your interest or favour with him, you
+are to be the shorter or longer, more familiar or submiss, as he
+will afford you time.&nbsp; For his capacity, you are to be
+quicker and fuller of those reaches and glances of wit or
+learning, as he is able to entertain them.&nbsp; For his leisure,
+you are commanded to the greater briefness, as his place is of
+greater discharges and cares.&nbsp; But with your betters, you
+are not to put riddles of wit, by being too scarce of words; not
+to cause the trouble of making breviates by writing too riotous
+and wastingly.&nbsp; Brevity is attained in matter by avoiding
+idle compliments, prefaces, protestations, parentheses,
+superfluous circuit of figures and digressions: in the
+composition, by omitting conjunctions [<i>not only</i>, <i>but
+also</i>; <i>both the one and the other</i>, <i>whereby it cometh
+to pass</i>] and such like idle particles, that have no great
+business in a serious letter but breaking of sentences, as
+oftentimes a short journey is made long by unnessary baits.</p>
+<p><i>Quintilian</i>.&mdash;But, as Quintilian saith, there is a
+briefness of the parts sometimes that makes the whole long:
+&ldquo;As I came to the stairs, I took a pair of oars, they
+launched out, rowed apace, I landed at the court gate, I paid my
+fare, went up to the presence, asked for my lord, I was
+admitted.&rdquo;&nbsp; All this is but, &ldquo;I went to the
+court and spake with my lord.&rdquo;&nbsp; This is the fault of
+some Latin writers within these last hundred years of my reading,
+and perhaps Seneca may be appeached of it; I accuse him not.</p>
+<p>2.&nbsp; <i>Perspicuitas</i>.&mdash;The next property of
+epistolary style is perspicuity, and is oftentimes by affectation
+of some wit ill angled for, or ostentation of some hidden terms
+of art.&nbsp; Few words they darken speech, and so do too many;
+as well too much light hurteth the eyes, as too little; and a
+long bill of chancery confounds the understanding as much as the
+shortest note; therefore, let not your letters be penned like
+English statutes, and this is obtained.&nbsp; These vices are
+eschewed by pondering your business well and distinctly
+concerning yourself, which is much furthered by uttering your
+thoughts, and letting them as well come forth to the light and
+judgment of your own outward senses as to the censure of other
+men&rsquo;s ears; for that is the reason why many good scholars
+speak but fumblingly; like a rich man, that for want of
+particular note and difference can bring you no certain ware
+readily out of his shop.&nbsp; Hence it is that talkative shallow
+men do often content the hearers more than the wise.&nbsp; But
+this may find a speedier redress in writing, where all comes
+under the last examination of the eyes.&nbsp; First, mind it
+well, then pen it, then examine it, then amend it, and you may be
+in the better hope of doing reasonably well.&nbsp; Under this
+virtue may come plainness, which is not to be curious in the
+order as to answer a letter, as if you were to answer to
+interrogatories.&nbsp; As to the first, first; and to the second,
+secondly, &amp;c. but both in method to use (as ladies do in
+their attire) a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive
+freedom; though with some men you are not to jest, or practise
+tricks; yet the delivery of the most important things may be
+carried with such a grace, as that it may yield a pleasure to the
+conceit of the reader.&nbsp; There must be store, though no
+excess of terms; as if you are to name store, sometimes you may
+call it choice, sometimes plenty, sometimes copiousness, or
+variety; but ever so, that the word which comes in lieu have not
+such difference of meaning as that it may put the sense of the
+first in hazard to be mistaken.&nbsp; You are not to cast a ring
+for the perfumed terms of the time, as <i>accommodation</i>,
+<i>complement</i>, <i>spirit</i> &amp;c., but use them properly
+in their place, as others.</p>
+<p>3.&nbsp; <i>Vigor</i>&mdash;There followeth life and
+quickness, which is the strength and sinews, as it were, of your
+penning by pretty sayings, similitudes, and conceits; allusions
+from known history, or other common-place, such as are in the
+<i>Courtier</i>, and the second book of Cicero <i>De
+Oratore</i>.</p>
+<p>4.&nbsp; <i>Discretio</i>.&mdash;The last is, respect to
+discern what fits yourself, him to whom you write, and that which
+you handle, which is a quality fit to conclude the rest, because
+it doth include all.&nbsp; And that must proceed from ripeness of
+judgment, which, as one truly saith, is gotten by four means,
+God, nature, diligence, and conversation.&nbsp; Serve the first
+well, and the rest will serve you.</p>
+<p><i>De Poetica</i>.&mdash;We have spoken sufficiently of
+oratory, let us now make a diversion to poetry.&nbsp; Poetry, in
+the primogeniture, had many peccant humours, and is made to have
+more now, through the levity and inconstancy of men&rsquo;s
+judgments.&nbsp; Whereas, indeed, it is the most prevailing
+eloquence, and of the most exalted caract.&nbsp; Now the
+discredits and disgraces are many it hath received through
+men&rsquo;s study of depravation or calumny; their practice being
+to give it diminution of credit, by lessening the
+professor&rsquo;s estimation, and making the age afraid of their
+liberty; and the age is grown so tender of her fame, as she calls
+all writings aspersions.</p>
+<p>That is the state word, the phrase of court (placentia
+college), which some call Parasites place, the Inn of
+Ignorance.</p>
+<p><i>D. Hieronymus</i>.&mdash;Whilst I name no persons, but
+deride follies, why should any man confess or betray himself why
+doth not that of S. Hierome come into their mind, <i>Ubi
+generalis est de vitiis disputatio</i>, <i>ibi nullius esse
+person&aelig; injuriam</i>? <a name="citation133a"></a><a
+href="#footnote133a" class="citation">[133a]</a>&nbsp; Is it such
+an inexpiable crime in poets to tax vices generally, and no
+offence in them, who, by their exception confess they have
+committed them particularly?&nbsp; Are we fallen into those times
+that we must not&mdash;</p>
+<p class="poetry">&ldquo;Auriculas teneras mordaci rodere
+vero.&rdquo; <a name="citation133b"></a><a href="#footnote133b"
+class="citation">[133b]</a></p>
+<p><i>Remedii votum semper verius erat</i>, <i>quam spes</i>. <a
+name="citation133c"></a><a href="#footnote133c"
+class="citation">[133c]</a>&mdash;<i>Sexus
+f&aelig;min</i>.&mdash;If men may by no means write freely, or
+speak truth, but when it offends not, why do physicians cure with
+sharp medicines, or corrosives? is not the same equally lawful in
+the cure of the mind that is in the cure of the body?&nbsp; Some
+vices, you will say, are so foul that it is better they should be
+done than spoken.&nbsp; But they that take offence where no name,
+character, or signature doth blazon them seem to me like affected
+as women, who if they hear anything ill spoken of the ill of
+their sex, are presently moved, as if the contumely respected
+their particular; and on the contrary, when they hear good of
+good women, conclude that it belongs to them all.&nbsp; If I see
+anything that toucheth me, shall I come forth a betrayer of
+myself presently?&nbsp; No, if I be wise, I&rsquo;ll dissemble
+it; if honest, I&rsquo;ll avoid it, lest I publish that on my own
+forehead which I saw there noted without a title.&nbsp; A man
+that is on the mending hand will either ingenuously confess or
+wisely dissemble his disease.&nbsp; And the wise and virtuous
+will never think anything belongs to themselves that is written,
+but rejoice that the good are warned not to be such; and the ill
+to leave to be such.&nbsp; The person offended hath no reason to
+be offended with the writer, but with himself; and so to declare
+that properly to belong to him which was so spoken of all men, as
+it could be no man&rsquo;s several, but his that would wilfully
+and desperately claim it.&nbsp; It sufficeth I know what kind of
+persons I displease, men bred in the declining and decay of
+virtue, betrothed to their own vices; that have abandoned or
+prostituted their good names; hungry and ambitious of infamy,
+invested in all deformity, enthralled to ignorance and malice, of
+a hidden and concealed malignity, and that hold a concomitancy
+with all evil.</p>
+<h3><i>What is a Poet</i>?</h3>
+<p><i>Poeta</i>.&mdash;A poet is that which by the Greeks is
+called &kappa;&alpha;&tau; &epsilon;&xi;&omicron;&chi;&eta;&nu;,
+&omicron; &pi;&omicron;&iota;&eta;&tau;&#942;&sigmaf;, a maker,
+or a feigner: his art, an art of imitation or feigning;
+expressing the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony,
+according to Aristotle; from the word
+&pi;&omicron;&iota;&epsilon;&iota;&nu;, which signifies to make
+or feign.&nbsp; Hence he is called a poet, not he which writeth
+in measure only, but that feigneth and formeth a fable, and
+writes things like the truth.&nbsp; For the fable and fiction is,
+as it were, the form and soul of any poetical work or poem.</p>
+<h3><i>What mean</i>, <i>you by a Poem</i>?</h3>
+<p><i>Poema</i>.&mdash;A poem is not alone any work or
+composition of the poet&rsquo;s in many or few verses; but even
+one verse alone sometimes makes a perfect poem.&nbsp; As when
+&AElig;neas hangs up and consecrates the arms of Abas with this
+inscription:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;&AElig;neas h&aelig;c de Danais victoribus
+arma.&rdquo; <a name="citation136a"></a><a href="#footnote136a"
+class="citation">[136a]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>And calls it a poem or carmen.&nbsp; Such are those in
+Martial:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Omnia, Castor, emis: sic fiet, ut omnia
+vendas.&rdquo; <a name="citation136b"></a><a href="#footnote136b"
+class="citation">[136b]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>And&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Pauper videri Cinna vult, et est
+pauper.&rdquo; <a name="citation136c"></a><a href="#footnote136c"
+class="citation">[136c]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Horatius</i>.&mdash;<i>Lucretius</i>.&mdash;So were
+Horace&rsquo;s odes called Carmina, his lyric songs.&nbsp; And
+Lucretius designs a whole book in his sixth:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Quod in primo quoque carmine claret.&rdquo;
+<a name="citation136d"></a><a href="#footnote136d"
+class="citation">[136d]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p><i>Epicum</i>.&mdash;<i>Dramaticum</i>.&mdash;<i>Lyricum</i>.&mdash;<i>Elegiacum</i>.&mdash;<i>Epigrammat</i>.&mdash;And
+anciently all the oracles were called Carmina; or whatever
+sentence was expressed, were it much or little, it was called an
+Epic, Dramatic, Lyric, Elegiac, or Epigrammatic poem.</p>
+<h3><i>But how differs a Poem from what we call Poesy</i>?</h3>
+<p><i>Poesis</i>.&mdash;<i>Artium regina</i>.&mdash;<i>Poet.
+differenti&aelig;</i>.&mdash;<i>Grammatic</i>.&mdash;<i>Logic</i>.&mdash;<i>Rhetoric</i>.&mdash;<i>Ethica</i>.&mdash;A
+poem, as I have told you, is the work of the poet; the end and
+fruit of his labour and study.&nbsp; Poesy is his skill or craft
+of making; the very fiction itself, the reason or form of the
+work.&nbsp; And these three voices differ, as the thing done, the
+doing, and the doer; the thing feigned, the feigning, and the
+feigner; so the poem, the poesy, and the poet.&nbsp; Now the
+poesy is the habit or the art; nay, rather the queen of arts,
+which had her original from heaven, received thence from the
+Hebrews, and had in prime estimation with the Greeks transmitted
+to the Latins and all nations that professed civility.&nbsp; The
+study of it (if we will trust Aristotle) offers to mankind a
+certain rule and pattern of living well and happily, disposing us
+to all civil offices of society.&nbsp; If we will believe Tully,
+it nourisheth and instructeth our youth, delights our age, adorns
+our prosperity, comforts our adversity, entertains us at home,
+keeps us company abroad, travels with us, watches, divides the
+times of our earnest and sports, shares in our country recesses
+and recreations; insomuch as the wisest and best learned have
+thought her the absolute mistress of manners and nearest of kin
+to virtue.&nbsp; And whereas they entitle philosophy to be a
+rigid and austere poesy, they have, on the contrary, styled poesy
+a dulcet and gentle philosophy, which leads on and guides us by
+the hand to action with a ravishing delight and incredible
+sweetness.&nbsp; But before we handle the kinds of poems, with
+their special differences, or make court to the art itself, as a
+mistress, I would lead you to the knowledge of our poet by a
+perfect information what he is or should be by nature, by
+exercise, by imitation, by study, and so bring him down through
+the disciplines of grammar, logic, rhetoric, and the ethics,
+adding somewhat out of all, peculiar to himself, and worthy of
+your admittance or reception.</p>
+<p>1.&nbsp;
+<i>Ingenium</i>.&mdash;<i>Seneca</i>.&mdash;<i>Plato</i>.&mdash;<i>Aristotle</i>.&mdash;<i>Helicon</i>.&mdash;<i>Pegasus</i>.&mdash;<i>Parnassus</i>.&mdash;<i>Ovid</i>.&mdash;First,
+we require in our poet or maker (for that title our language
+affords him elegantly with the Greek) a goodness of natural
+wit.&nbsp; For whereas all other arts consist of doctrine and
+precepts, the poet must be able by nature and instinct to pour
+out the treasure of his mind, and as Seneca saith, <i>Aliquando
+secundum Anacreontem insanire jucundum esse</i>; by which he
+understands the poetical rapture.&nbsp; And according to that of
+Plato, <i>Frustr&agrave; poeticas fores sui compos
+pulsavit</i>.&nbsp; And of Aristotle, <i>Nullum magnum ingenium
+sine mixtur&acirc; dementi&aelig; fuit</i>.&nbsp; <i>Nec potest
+grande aliquid</i>, <i>et supra c&aelig;teros loqui</i>, <i>nisi
+mota mens</i>.&nbsp; Then it riseth higher, as by a divine
+instinct, when it contemns common and known conceptions.&nbsp; It
+utters somewhat above a mortal mouth.&nbsp; Then it gets aloft
+and flies away with his rider, whither before it was doubtful to
+ascend.&nbsp; This the poets understood by their Helicon,
+Pegasus, or Parnassus; and this made Ovid to boast,</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Est deus in nobis, agitante calescimus
+illo<br />
+Sedibus &aelig;thereis spiritus ille venit.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation139a"></a><a href="#footnote139a"
+class="citation">[139a]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>Lipsius</i>.&mdash;<i>Petron. in. Fragm</i>.&mdash;And
+Lipsius to affirm, <i>Scio</i>, <i>poetam neminem
+pr&aelig;stantem fuisse</i>, <i>sine parte quadam uberiore
+divin&aelig; aur&aelig;</i>.&nbsp; And hence it is that the
+coming up of good poets (for I mind not mediocres or imos) is so
+thin and rare among us.&nbsp; Every beggarly corporation affords
+the State a mayor or two bailiffs yearly; but <i>Solus rex</i>,
+<i>aut poeta</i>, <i>non quotannis nascitur</i>.&nbsp; To this
+perfection of nature in our poet we require exercise of those
+parts, and frequent.</p>
+<p>2.&nbsp;
+<i>Exercitatio</i>.&mdash;<i>Virgil</i>.&mdash;<i>Scaliger</i>.&mdash;<i>Valer.
+
+Maximus</i>.&mdash;<i>Euripides</i>.&mdash;<i>Alcestis</i>.&mdash;If
+his wit will not arrive suddenly at the dignity of the ancients,
+let him not yet fall out with it, quarrel, or be over hastily
+angry; offer to turn it away from study in a humour, but come to
+it again upon better cogitation; try another time with
+labour.&nbsp; If then it succeed not, cast not away the quills
+yet, nor scratch the wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring
+all to the forge and file again; torn it anew.&nbsp; There is no
+statute law of the kingdom bids you be a poet against your will
+or the first quarter; if it comes in a year or two, it is
+well.&nbsp; The common rhymers pour forth verses, such as they
+are, <i>ex tempore</i>; but there never comes from them one sense
+worth the life of a day.&nbsp; A rhymer and a poet are two
+things.&nbsp; It is said of the incomparable Virgil that he
+brought forth his verses like a bear, and after formed them with
+licking.&nbsp; Scaliger the father writes it of him, that he made
+a quantity of verses in the morning, which afore night he reduced
+to a less number.&nbsp; But that which Valerius Maximus hath left
+recorded of Euripides, the tragic poet, his answer to Alcestis,
+another poet, is as memorable as modest; who, when it was told to
+Alcestis that Euripides had in three days brought forth but three
+verses, and those with some difficulty and throes, Alcestis,
+glorying he could with ease have sent forth a hundred in the
+space, Euripides roundly replied, &ldquo;Like enough; but here is
+the difference: thy verses will not last these three days, mine
+will to all time.&rdquo;&nbsp; Which was as much as to tell him
+he could not write a verse.&nbsp; I have met many of these
+rattles that made a noise and buzzed.&nbsp; They had their hum,
+and no more.&nbsp; Indeed, things wrote with labour deserve to be
+so read, and will last their age.</p>
+<p>3.&nbsp;
+<i>Imitatio</i>.&mdash;<i>Horatius</i>.&mdash;<i>Virgil</i>.&mdash;<i>Statius</i>.&mdash;<i>Homer</i>.&mdash;<i>Horat</i>.&mdash;<i>Archil</i>.&mdash;<i>Alc&aelig;us</i>,
+&amp;c.&mdash;The third requisite in our poet or maker is
+imitation, to be able to convert the substance or riches of
+another poet to his own use.&nbsp; To make choice of one
+excellent man above the rest, and so to follow him till he grow
+very he, or so like him as the copy may be mistaken for the
+principal.&nbsp; Not as a creature that swallows what it takes in
+crude, raw, or undigested, but that feeds with an appetite, and
+hath a stomach to concoct, divide, and turn all into
+nourishment.&nbsp; Not to imitate servilely, as Horace saith, and
+catch at vices for virtue, but to draw forth out of the best and
+choicest flowers, with the bee, and turn all into honey, work it
+into one relish and savour; make our imitation sweet; observe how
+the best writers have imitated, and follow them.&nbsp; How Virgil
+and Statius have imitated Homer; how Horace, Archilochus; how
+Alc&aelig;us, and the other lyrics; and so of the rest.</p>
+<p>4.&nbsp;
+<i>Lectio</i>.&mdash;<i>Parnassus</i>.&mdash;<i>Helicon</i>.&mdash;<i>Arscoron</i>.&mdash;<i>M.
+T.
+Cicero</i>.&mdash;<i>Simylus</i>.&mdash;<i>Stob</i>.&mdash;<i>Horat</i>.&mdash;<i>Aristot</i>.&mdash;But
+that which we especially require in him is an exactness of study
+and multiplicity of reading, which maketh a full man, not alone
+enabling him to know the history or argument of a poem and to
+report it, but so to master the matter and style, as to show he
+knows how to handle, place, or dispose of either with elegancy
+when need shall be.&nbsp; And not think he can leap forth
+suddenly a poet by dreaming he hath been in Parnassus, or having
+washed his lips, as they say, in Helicon.&nbsp; There goes more
+to his making than so; for to nature, exercise, imitation, and
+study art must be added to make all these perfect.&nbsp; And
+though these challenge to themselves much in the making up of our
+maker, it is Art only can lead him to perfection, and leave him
+there in possession, as planted by her hand.&nbsp; It is the
+assertion of Tully, if to an excellent nature there happen an
+accession or conformation of learning and discipline, there will
+then remain somewhat noble and singular.&nbsp; For, as Simylus
+saith in Stob&aelig;us, &Omicron;&upsilon;&tau;&epsilon;
+&phi;&#973;&sigma;&iota;&sigmaf; &#943;&kappa;&alpha;&nu;&eta;
+y&iota;&nu;&epsilon;&tau;&alpha;&iota;
+&tau;&epsilon;&chi;&nu;&eta;&sigmaf; &alpha;&tau;&epsilon;&rho;,
+&omicron;&upsilon;&tau;&epsilon; &pi;&alpha;&nu;
+&tau;&#941;&chi;&nu;&eta; &mu;&eta;
+&phi;&upsilon;&sigma;&iota;&nu;
+&kappa;&epsilon;&kappa;&tau;&eta;&mu;&#941;&nu;&eta;, without art
+nature can never be perfect; and without nature art can claim no
+being.&nbsp; But our poet must beware that his study be not only
+to learn of himself; for he that shall affect to do that
+confesseth his ever having a fool to his master.&nbsp; He must
+read many, but ever the best and choicest; those that can teach
+him anything he must ever account his masters, and
+reverence.&nbsp; Among whom Horace and (he that taught him)
+Aristotle deserved to be the first in estimation.&nbsp; Aristotle
+was the first accurate critic and truest judge&mdash;nay, the
+greatest philosopher the world ever had&mdash;for he noted the
+vices of all knowledges in all creatures, and out of many
+men&rsquo;s perfections in a science he formed still one
+art.&nbsp; So he taught us two offices together, how we ought to
+judge rightly of others, and what we ought to imitate specially
+in ourselves.&nbsp; But all this in vain without a natural wit
+and a poetical nature in chief.&nbsp; For no man, so soon as he
+knows this or reads it, shall be able to write the better; but as
+he is adapted to it by nature, he shall grow the perfecter
+writer.&nbsp; He must have civil prudence and eloquence, and that
+whole; not taken up by snatches or pieces in sentences or
+remnants when he will handle business or carry counsels, as if he
+came then out of the declaimer&rsquo;s gallery, or shadow
+furnished but out of the body of the State, which commonly is the
+school of men.</p>
+<p><i>Virorum schola
+respub</i>.&mdash;<i>Lysippus</i>.&mdash;<i>Apelles</i>.&mdash;<i>N&aelig;vius</i>.&mdash;The
+poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator, and expresseth all
+his virtues, though he be tied more to numbers, is his equal in
+ornament, and above him in his strengths.&nbsp; And (of the kind)
+the comic comes nearest; because in moving the minds of men, and
+stirring of affections (in which oratory shows, and especially
+approves her eminence), he chiefly excels.&nbsp; What figure of a
+body was Lysippus ever able to form with his graver, or Apelles
+to paint with his pencil, as the comedy to life expresseth so
+many and various affections of the mind?&nbsp; There shall the
+spectator see some insulting with joy, others fretting with
+melancholy, raging with anger, mad with love, boiling with
+avarice, undone with riot, tortured with expectation, consumed
+with fear; no perturbation in common life but the orator finds an
+example of it in the scene.&nbsp; And then for the elegancy of
+language, read but this inscription on the grave of a comic
+poet:</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Immortales mortales si fas esset fiere,<br
+/>
+Flerent div&aelig; Cam&oelig;n&aelig; N&aelig;vium poetam;<br />
+Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro,<br />
+Obliti sunt Rom&aelig; lingu&acirc; loqui Latin&acirc;.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation146a"></a><a href="#footnote146a"
+class="citation">[146a]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<p><i>L. &AElig;lius Stilo</i>.&mdash;<i>Plautus</i>.&mdash;<i>M.
+Varro</i>.&mdash;Or that modester testimony given by Lucius
+&AElig;lius Stilo upon Plautus, who affirmed,
+&ldquo;<i>Musas</i>, <i>si Latin&egrave; loqui voluissent</i>,
+<i>Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; And that
+illustrious judgment by the most learned M. Varro of him, who
+pronounced him the prince of letters and elegancy in the Roman
+language.</p>
+<p><i>Sophocles</i>.&mdash;I am not of that opinion to conclude a
+poet&rsquo;s liberty within the narrow limits of laws which
+either the grammarians or philosophers prescribe.&nbsp; For
+before they found out those laws there were many excellent poets
+that fulfilled them, amongst whom none more perfect than
+Sophocles, who lived a little before Aristotle.</p>
+
+<p><i>Demosthenes</i>.&mdash;<i>Pericles</i>.&mdash;<i>Alcibiades</i>.&mdash;Which
+of the Greeklings durst ever give precepts to Demosthenes? or to
+Pericles, whom the age surnamed Heavenly, because he seemed to
+thunder and lighten with his language? or to Alcibiades, who had
+rather Nature for his guide than Art for his master?</p>
+<p><i>Aristotle</i>.&mdash;But whatsoever nature at any time
+dictated to the most happy, or long exercise to the most
+laborious, that the wisdom and learning of Aristotle hath brought
+into an art, because he understood the causes of things; and what
+other men did by chance or custom he doth by reason; and not only
+found out the way not to err, but the short way we should take
+not to err.</p>
+<p><i>Euripides</i>.&mdash;<i>Aristophanes</i>.&mdash;Many things
+in Euripides hath Aristophanes wittily reprehended, not out of
+art, but out of truth.&nbsp; For Euripides is sometimes peccant,
+as he is most times perfect.&nbsp; But judgment when it is
+greatest, if reason doth not accompany it, is not ever
+absolute.</p>
+<p><i>Cens. Scal. in Lil. Germ</i>.&mdash;<i>Horace</i>.&mdash;To
+judge of poets is only the faculty of poets; and not of all
+poets, but the best.&nbsp; <i>Nemo infelici&ugrave;s de poetis
+judicavit</i>, <i>qu&agrave;m qui de poetis scripsit</i>. <a
+name="citation148a"></a><a href="#footnote148a"
+class="citation">[148a]</a>&nbsp; But some will say critics are a
+kind of tinkers, that make more faults than they mend
+ordinarily.&nbsp; See their diseases and those of
+grammarians.&nbsp; It is true, many bodies are the worse for the
+meddling with; and the multitude of physicians hath destroyed
+many sound patients with their wrong practice.&nbsp; But the
+office of a true critic or censor is, not to throw by a letter
+anywhere, or damn an innocent syllable, but lay the words
+together, and amend them; judge sincerely of the author and his
+matter, which is the sign of solid and perfect learning in a
+man.&nbsp; Such was Horace, an author of much civility, and (if
+any one among the heathen can be) the best master both of virtue
+and wisdom; an excellent and true judge upon cause and reason,
+not because he thought so, but because he knew so out of use and
+experience.</p>
+<p>Cato, the grammarian, a defender of Lucilius. <a
+name="citation149a"></a><a href="#footnote149a"
+class="citation">[149a]</a></p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Cato grammaticus, Latina syren,<br />
+Qui solus legit, et facit poetas.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected. <a
+name="citation149b"></a><a href="#footnote149b"
+class="citation">[149b]</a></p>
+<p>Horace, his judgment of Ch&oelig;rillus defended against
+Joseph Scaliger. <a name="citation149c"></a><a
+href="#footnote149c" class="citation">[149c]</a>&nbsp; And of
+Laberius against Julius. <a name="citation149d"></a><a
+href="#footnote149d" class="citation">[149d]</a></p>
+<p>But chiefly his opinion of Plautus <a
+name="citation149e"></a><a href="#footnote149e"
+class="citation">[149e]</a> vindicated against many that are
+offended, and say it is a hard censure upon the parent of all
+conceit and sharpness.&nbsp; And they wish it had not fallen from
+so great a master and censor in the art, whose bondmen knew
+better how to judge of Plautus than any that dare patronise the
+family of learning in this age; who could not be ignorant of the
+judgment of the times in which he lived, when poetry and the
+Latin language were at the height; especially being a man so
+conversant and inwardly familiar with the censures of great men
+that did discourse of these things daily amongst
+themselves.&nbsp; Again, a man so gracious and in high favour
+with the Emperor, as Augustus often called him his witty manling
+(for the littleness of his stature), and, if we may trust
+antiquity, had designed him for a secretary of estate, and
+invited him to the palace, which he modestly prayed off and
+refused.</p>
+<p><i>Terence</i>.&mdash;<i>Menander</i>.&nbsp; Horace did so
+highly esteem Terence&rsquo;s comedies, as he ascribes the art in
+comedy to him alone among the Latins, and joins him with
+Menander.</p>
+<p>Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend
+Horace&rsquo;s judgment to posterity and not wholly to condemn
+Plautus.</p>
+<p><i>The parts of a comedy and tragedy</i>.&mdash;The parts of a
+comedy are the same with a tragedy, and the end is partly the
+same, for they both delight and teach; the comics are called
+&delta;&iota;&delta;&#940;&sigma;&kappa;&alpha;&lambda;&omicron;&iota;,
+of the Greeks no less than the tragics.</p>
+
+<p><i>Aristotle</i>.&mdash;<i>Plato</i>.&mdash;<i>Homer</i>.&mdash;Nor
+is the moving of laughter always the end of comedy; that is
+rather a fowling for the people&rsquo;s delight, or their
+fooling.&nbsp; For, as Aristotle says rightly, the moving of
+laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude that depraves
+some part of a man&rsquo;s nature without a disease.&nbsp; As a
+wry face without pain moves laughter, or a deformed vizard, or a
+rude clown dressed in a lady&rsquo;s habit and using her actions;
+we dislike and scorn such representations which made the ancient
+philosophers ever think laughter unfitting in a wise man.&nbsp;
+And this induced Plato to esteem of Homer as a sacrilegious
+person, because he presented the gods sometimes laughing.&nbsp;
+As also it is divinely said of Aristotle, that to seen ridiculous
+is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.</p>
+<p><i>The wit of the old comedy</i>.&mdash;So that what either in
+the words or sense of an author, or in the language or actions of
+men, is awry or depraved does strangely stir mean affections, and
+provoke for the most part to laughter.&nbsp; And therefore it was
+clear that all insolent and obscene speeches, jests upon the best
+men, injuries to particular persons, perverse and sinister
+sayings (and the rather unexpected) in the old comedy did move
+laughter, especially where it did imitate any dishonesty, and
+scurrility came forth in the place of wit, which, who understands
+the nature and genius of laughter cannot but perfectly know.</p>
+<p><i>Aristophanes</i>.&mdash;<i>Plautus</i>.&mdash;Of which
+Aristophanes affords an ample harvest, having not only outgone
+Plautus or any other in that kind, but expressed all the moods
+and figures of what is ridiculous oddly.&nbsp; In short, as
+vinegar is not accounted good until the wine be corrupted, so
+jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter with the
+beast the multitude.&nbsp; They love nothing that is right and
+proper.&nbsp; The farther it runs from reason or possibility with
+them the better it is.</p>
+<p><i>Socrates</i>.&mdash;<i>Theatrical wit</i>.&mdash;What could
+have made them laugh, like to see Socrates presented, that
+example of all good life, honesty, and virtue, to have him
+hoisted up with a pulley, and there play the philosopher in a
+basket; measure how many foot a flea could skip geometrically, by
+a just scale, and edify the people from the engine.&nbsp; This
+was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing a
+playhouse, invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had
+savoured of equity, truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have
+tasten a wise or a learned palate,&mdash;spit it out presently!
+this is bitter and profitable: this instructs and would inform
+us: what need we know any thing, that are nobly born, more than a
+horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to break with citizens,
+and such innate mysteries?</p>
+<p><i>The cart</i>.&mdash;This is truly leaping from the stage to
+the tumbril again, reducing all wit to the original
+dung-cart.</p>
+<h3>Of the magnitude and compass of any fable, epic or
+dramatic.</h3>
+<p><i>What the measure of a fable is</i>.&mdash;<i>The fable or
+plot of a poem defined</i>.&mdash;<i>The epic fable</i>,
+<i>differing from the dramatic</i>.&mdash;To the resolving of
+this question we must first agree in the definition of the
+fable.&nbsp; The fable is called the imitation of one entire and
+perfect action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as
+nothing in the structure can be changed, or taken away, without
+impairing or troubling the whole, of which there is a
+proportionable magnitude in the members.&nbsp; As for example: if
+a man would build a house, he would first appoint a place to
+build it in, which he would define within certain bounds; so in
+the constitution of a poem, the action is aimed at by the poet,
+which answers place in a building, and that action hath his
+largeness, compass, and proportion.&nbsp; But as a court or
+king&rsquo;s palace requires other dimensions than a private
+house, so the epic asks a magnitude from other poems, since what
+is place in the one is action in the other; the difference is an
+space.&nbsp; So that by this definition we conclude the fable to
+be the imitation of one perfect and entire action, as one perfect
+and entire place is required to a building.&nbsp; By perfect, we
+understand that to which nothing is wanting, as place to the
+building that is raised, and action to the fable that is
+formed.&nbsp; It is perfect, perhaps not for a court or
+king&rsquo;s palace, which requires a greater ground, but for the
+structure he would raise; so the space of the action may not
+prove large enough for the epic fable, yet be perfect for the
+dramatic, and whole.</p>
+<p><i>What we understand by whole</i>.&mdash;Whole we call that,
+and perfect, which hath a beginning, a midst, and an end.&nbsp;
+So the place of any building may be whole and entire for that
+work, though too little for a palace.&nbsp; As to a tragedy or a
+comedy, the action may be convenient and perfect that would not
+fit an epic poem in magnitude.&nbsp; So a lion is a perfect
+creature in himself, though it be less than that of a buffalo or
+a rhinocerote.&nbsp; They differ but in specie: either in the
+kind is absolute; both have their parts, and either the
+whole.&nbsp; Therefore, as in every body so in every action,
+which is the subject of a just work, there is required a certain
+proportionable greatness, neither too vast nor too minute.&nbsp;
+For that which happens to the eyes when we behold a body, the
+same happens to the memory when we contemplate an action.&nbsp; I
+look upon a monstrous giant, as Tityus, whose body covered nine
+acres of land, and mine eye sticks upon every part; the whole
+that consists of those parts will never be taken in at one entire
+view.&nbsp; So in a fable, if the action be too great, we can
+never comprehend the whole together in our imagination.&nbsp;
+Again, if it be too little, there ariseth no pleasure out of the
+object; it affords the view no stay; it is beheld, and vanisheth
+at once.&nbsp; As if we should look upon an ant or pismire, the
+parts fly the sight, and the whole considered is almost
+nothing.&nbsp; The same happens in action, which is the object of
+memory, as the body is of sight.&nbsp; Too vast oppresseth the
+eyes, and exceeds the memory; too little scarce admits
+either.</p>
+<p><i>What is the utmost bounds of a fable</i>.&mdash;Now in
+every action it behoves the poet to know which is his utmost
+bound, how far with fitness and a necessary proportion he may
+produce and determine it; that is, till either good fortune
+change into the worse, or the worse into the better.&nbsp; For as
+a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no more can the
+action, either in comedy or tragedy, without his fit bounds: and
+every bound, for the nature of the subject, is esteemed the best
+that is largest, till it can increase no more; so it behoves the
+action in tragedy or comedy to be let grow till the necessity ask
+a conclusion; wherein two things are to be considered: first,
+that it exceed not the compass of one day; next, that there be
+place left for digression and art.&nbsp; For the episodes and
+digressions in a fable are the same that household stuff and
+other furniture are in a house.&nbsp; And so far from the measure
+and extent of a fable dramatic.</p>
+<p><i>What by one and entire</i>.&mdash;Now that it should be one
+and entire.&nbsp; One is considerable two ways; either as it is
+only separate, and by itself, or as being composed of many parts,
+it begins to be one as those parts grow or are wrought
+together.&nbsp; That it should be one the first away alone, and
+by itself, no man that hath tasted letters ever would say,
+especially having required before a just magnitude and equal
+proportion of the parts in themselves.&nbsp; Neither of which can
+possibly be, if the action be single and separate, not composed
+of parts, which laid together in themselves, with an equal and
+fitting proportion, tend to the same end; which thing out of
+antiquity itself hath deceived many, and more this day it doth
+deceive.</p>
+
+<p><i>Hercules</i>.&mdash;<i>Theseus</i>.&mdash;<i>Achilles</i>.&mdash;<i>Ulysses</i>.&mdash;<i>Homer
+and
+Virgil</i>.&mdash;<i>&AElig;neas</i>.&mdash;<i>Venus</i>.&mdash;So
+many there be of old that have thought the action of one man to
+be one, as of Hercules, Theseus, Achilles, Ulysses, and other
+heroes; which is both foolish and false, since by one and the
+same person many things may be severally done which cannot fitly
+be referred or joined to the same end: which not only the
+excellent tragic poets, but the best masters of the epic, Homer
+and Virgil, saw.&nbsp; For though the argument of an epic poem be
+far more diffused and poured out than that of tragedy, yet
+Virgil, writing of &AElig;neas, hath pretermitted many
+things.&nbsp; He neither tells how he was born, how brought up,
+how he fought with Achilles, how he was snatched out of the
+battle by Venus; but that one thing, how he came into Italy, he
+prosecutes in twelve books.&nbsp; The rest of his journey, his
+error by sea, the sack of Troy, are put not as the argument of
+the work, but episodes of the argument.&nbsp; So Homer laid by
+many things of Ulysses, and handled no more than he saw tended to
+one and the same end.</p>
+
+<p><i>Theseus</i>.&mdash;<i>Hercules</i>.&mdash;<i>Juvenal</i>.&mdash;<i>Codrus</i>.&mdash;<i>Sophocles</i>.&mdash;<i>Ajax</i>.&mdash;<i>Ulysses</i>.&mdash;Contrary
+to which, and foolishly, those poets did, whom the philosopher
+taxeth, of whom one gathered all the actions of Theseus, another
+put all the labours of Hercules in one work.&nbsp; So did he whom
+Juvenal mentions in the beginning, &ldquo;hoarse Codrus,&rdquo;
+that recited a volume compiled, which he called his Theseide, not
+yet finished, to the great trouble both of his hearers and
+himself; amongst which there were many parts had no coherence nor
+kindred one with another, so far they were from being one action,
+one fable.&nbsp; For as a house, consisting of divers materials,
+becomes one structure and one dwelling, so an action, composed of
+divers parts, may become one fable, epic or dramatic.&nbsp; For
+example, in a tragedy, look upon Sophocles, his Ajax: Ajax,
+deprived of Achilles&rsquo; armour, which he hoped from the
+suffrage of the Greeks, disdains; and, growing impatient of the
+injury, rageth, and runs mad.&nbsp; In that humour he doth many
+senseless things, and at last falls upon the Grecian flock and
+kills a great ram for Ulysses: returning to his senses, he grows
+ashamed of the scorn, and kills himself; and is by the chiefs of
+the Greeks forbidden burial.&nbsp; These things agree and hang
+together, not as they were done, but as seeming to be done, which
+made the action whole, entire, and absolute.</p>
+<p><i>The conclusion concerning the whole</i>, <i>and the
+parts</i>.&mdash;<i>Which are episodes</i>.&mdash;<i>Ajax and
+Hector</i>.&mdash;<i>Homer</i>.&mdash;For the whole, as it
+consisteth of parts, so without all the parts it is not the
+whole; and to make it absolute is required not only the parts,
+but such parts as are true.&nbsp; For a part of the whole was
+true; which, if you take away, you either change the whole or it
+is not the whole.&nbsp; For if it be such a part, as, being
+present or absent, nothing concerns the whole, it cannot be
+called a part of the whole; and such are the episodes, of which
+hereafter.&nbsp; For the present here is one example: the single
+combat of Ajax with Hector, as it is at large described in Homer,
+nothing belongs to this Ajax of Sophocles.</p>
+<p>You admire no poems but such as run like a brewer&rsquo;s cart
+upon the stones, hobbling:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Et, qu&aelig; per salebras, altaque saxa
+cadunt,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Accius et quidquid Pacuviusque vomunt.<br />
+Attonitusque legis terra&iuml;, frugifera&iuml;.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation160a"></a><a href="#footnote160a"
+class="citation">[160a]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<h2>SOME POEMS.</h2>
+<h3>TO WILLIAM CAMDEN.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Camden</span>! most
+reverend head, to whom I owe<br />
+All that I am in arts, all that I know&mdash;<br />
+How nothing&rsquo;s that! to whom my country owes<br />
+The great renown, and name wherewith she goes!<br />
+Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave,<br />
+More high, more holy, that she more would crave.<br />
+What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things!<br />
+What sight in searching the most antique springs!<br />
+What weight, and what authority in thy speech!<br />
+Men scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach.<br />
+Pardon free truth, and let thy modesty,<br />
+Which conquers all, be once o&rsquo;ercome by thee.<br />
+Many of thine, this better could, than I;<br />
+But for their powers, accept my piety.</p>
+<h3>ON MY FIRST DAUGHTER.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Here</span> lies, to each
+her parents&rsquo; ruth,<br />
+Mary, the daughter of their youth;<br />
+Yet, all heaven&rsquo;s gifts, being heaven&rsquo;s due,<br />
+It makes the father less to rue.<br />
+At six months&rsquo; end, she parted hence,<br />
+With safety of her innocence;<br />
+Whose soul heaven&rsquo;s queen, whose name she bears,<br />
+In comfort of her mother&rsquo;s tears,<br />
+Hath placed amongst her virgin-train;<br />
+Where, while that severed doth remain,<br />
+This grave partakes the fleshly birth;<br />
+Which cover lightly, gentle earth!</p>
+<h3>ON MY FIRST SON.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Farewell</span>, thou child
+of my right hand, and joy;<br />
+My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy;<br />
+Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,<br />
+Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.<br />
+Oh! could I lose all father, now! for why,<br />
+Will man lament the state he should envy?<br />
+To have so soon &rsquo;scaped world&rsquo;s, and flesh&rsquo;s
+rage,<br />
+And, if no other misery, yet age!<br />
+Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie<br />
+Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry;<br />
+For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such,<br />
+As what he loves may never like too much.</p>
+<h3>TO FRANCIS BEAUMONT.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">How</span> I do love thee,
+Beaumont, and thy muse,<br />
+That unto me dost such religion use!<br />
+How I do fear myself, that am not worth<br />
+The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth!<br />
+At once thou mak&rsquo;st me happy, and unmak&rsquo;st;<br />
+And giving largely to me, more thou takest!<br />
+What fate is mine, that so itself bereaves?<br />
+What art is thine, that so thy friend deceives?<br />
+When even there, where most thou praisest me,<br />
+For writing better, I must envy thee.</p>
+<h3>OF LIFE AND DEATH.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> ports of death
+are sins; of life, good deeds:<br />
+Through which our merit leads us to our meeds.<br />
+How wilful blind is he, then, that would stray,<br />
+And hath it in his powers to make his way!<br />
+This world death&rsquo;s region is, the other life&rsquo;s:<br />
+And here it should be one of our first strifes,<br />
+So to front death, as men might judge us past it:<br />
+For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.</p>
+<h3>INVITING A FRIEND TO SUPPER.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To-night</span>, grave sir,
+both my poor house and I<br />
+Do equally desire your company;<br />
+Not that we think us worthy such a guest,<br />
+But that your worth will dignify our feast,<br />
+With those that come; whose grace may make that seem<br />
+Something, which else could hope for no esteem.<br />
+It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates<br />
+The entertainment perfect, not the cates.<br />
+Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,<br />
+An olive, capers, or some bitter salad<br />
+Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,<br />
+If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,<br />
+Lemons and wine for sauce: to these, a coney<br />
+Is not to be despaired of for our money;<br />
+And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,<br />
+The sky not falling, think we may have larks.<br />
+I&rsquo;ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:<br />
+Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some<br />
+May yet be there; and godwit if we can;<br />
+Knat, rail, and ruff, too.&nbsp; Howsoe&rsquo;er, my man<br />
+Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,<br />
+Livy, or of some better book to us,<br />
+Of which we&rsquo;ll speak our minds, amidst our meat;<br />
+And I&rsquo;ll profess no verses to repeat:<br />
+To this if aught appear, which I not know of,<br />
+That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.<br />
+Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be;<br />
+But that which most doth take my muse and me,<br />
+Is a pure cup of rich canary wine,<br />
+Which is the Mermaid&rsquo;s now, but shall be mine:<br />
+Of which had Horace, or Anacreon tasted,<br />
+Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.<br />
+Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,<br />
+Are all but Luther&rsquo;s beer, to this I sing.<br />
+Of this we will sup free, but moderately,<br />
+And we will have no Pooly&rsquo; or Parrot by;<br />
+Nor shall our cups make any guilty men;<br />
+But at our parting we will be as when<br />
+We innocently met.&nbsp; No simple word<br />
+That shall be uttered at our mirthful board,<br />
+Shall make us sad next morning; or affright<br />
+The liberty that we&rsquo;ll enjoy to-night.</p>
+<h3>EPITAPH ON SALATHIEL PAVY,<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH&rsquo;S
+CHAPEL.</span></h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Weep</span> with me all you
+that read<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; This little story;<br />
+And know for whom a tear you shed,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Death&rsquo;s self is sorry.<br />
+&rsquo;Twas a child that so did thrive<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In grace and feature,<br />
+As heaven and nature seemed to strive<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Which owned the creature.<br />
+Years he numbered scarce thirteen<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; When fates turned cruel;<br />
+Yet three filled zodiacs had he been<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The stage&rsquo;s jewel;<br />
+And did act, what now we moan,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Old men so duly;<br />
+As, sooth, the Parc&aelig; thought him one<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He played so truly.<br />
+So, by error to his fate<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; They all consented;<br />
+But viewing him since, alas, too late!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; They have repented;<br />
+And have sought to give new birth,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In baths to steep him;<br />
+But, being so much too good for earth,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Heaven vows to keep him.</p>
+<h3>EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L. H.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Wouldst</span> thou hear
+what man can say<br />
+In a little?&nbsp; Reader, stay.<br />
+Underneath this stone doth lie<br />
+As much beauty as could die<br />
+Which in life did harbour give<br />
+To more virtue than doth live.<br />
+If, at all, she had a fault<br />
+Leave it buried in this vault.<br />
+One name was Elizabeth,<br />
+The other let it sleep with death.<br />
+Fitter, where it died, to tell,<br />
+Than that it lived at all.&nbsp; Farewell.</p>
+<h3>EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Underneath</span> this
+sable hearse<br />
+Lies the subject of all verse,<br />
+Sidney&rsquo;s sister, Pembroke&rsquo;s mother:<br />
+Death! ere thou hast slain another,<br />
+Learned, and fair, and good as she,<br />
+Time shall throw a dart at thee.</p>
+<h3>TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, AND
+WHAT HE HATH LEFT US.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To</span> draw no envy,
+Shakspeare, on thy name,<br />
+Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;<br />
+While I confess thy writings to be such,<br />
+As neither man, nor muse can praise too much.<br />
+&rsquo;Tis true, and all men&rsquo;s suffrage.&nbsp; But these
+ways<br />
+Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;<br />
+For silliest ignorance on these may light,<br />
+Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;<br />
+Or blind affection, which doth ne&rsquo;er advance<br />
+The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;<br />
+Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,<br />
+And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.<br />
+These are, as some infamous bawd, or whore,<br />
+Should praise a matron; what would hurt her more?<br />
+But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,<br />
+Above the ill-fortune of them, or the need.<br />
+I, therefore, will begin: Soul of the age!<br />
+The applause! delight! and wonder of our stage!<br />
+My Shakspeare rise!&nbsp; I will not lodge thee by<br />
+Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie<br />
+A little further off, to make thee room:<br />
+Thou art a monument without a tomb,<br />
+And art alive still, while thy book doth live<br />
+And we have wits to read, and praise to give.<br />
+That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,<br />
+I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;<br />
+For if I thought my judgment were of years,<br />
+I should commit thee surely with thy peers,<br />
+And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine,<br />
+Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow&rsquo;s mighty line.<br />
+And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,<br />
+From thence to honour thee, I will not seek<br />
+For names: but call forth thundering Eschylus,<br />
+Euripides, and Sophocles to us,<br />
+Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead,<br />
+To live again, to hear thy buskin tread,<br />
+And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on,<br />
+Leave thee alone for the comparison<br />
+Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome<br />
+Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.<br />
+Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,<br />
+To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.<br />
+He was not of an age, but for all time!<br />
+And all the Muses still were in their prime,<br />
+When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm<br />
+Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!<br />
+Nature herself was proud of his designs,<br />
+And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!<br />
+Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,<br />
+As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.<br />
+The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,<br />
+Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;<br />
+But antiquated and deserted lie,<br />
+As they were not of nature&rsquo;s family.<br />
+Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,<br />
+My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.<br />
+For though the poet&rsquo;s matter nature be,<br />
+His heart doth give the fashion: and, that he<br />
+Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,<br />
+(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat<br />
+Upon the Muse&rsquo;s anvil; turn the same,<br />
+And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;<br />
+Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn;<br />
+For a good poet&rsquo;s made, as well as born.<br />
+And such wert thou!&nbsp; Look how the father&rsquo;s face<br />
+Lives in his issue, even so the race<br />
+Of Shakspeare&rsquo;s mind and manners brightly shines<br />
+In his well-turn&egrave;d, and true fil&egrave;d lines;<br />
+In each of which he seems to shake a lance,<br />
+As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.<br />
+Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were<br />
+To see thee in our water yet appear,<br />
+And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,<br />
+That so did take Eliza, and our James!<br />
+But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere<br />
+Advanced, and made a constellation there!<br />
+Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage,<br />
+Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,<br />
+Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,<br
+/>
+And despairs day, but for thy volume&rsquo;s light.</p>
+<h3>TO CELIA.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Drink</span> to me only
+with thine eyes,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And I will pledge with mine;<br />
+Or leave a kiss but in the cup,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And I&rsquo;ll not look for wine.<br />
+The thirst that from the soul doth rise<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Doth ask a drink divine:<br />
+But might I of Jove&rsquo;s nectar sup,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; I would not change for thine.</p>
+<p class="poetry">I sent thee late a rosy wreath,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Not so much honouring thee,<br />
+As giving it a hope that there<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; It could not withered be.<br />
+But thou thereon didst only breathe,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And sent&rsquo;st it back to me:<br />
+Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Not of itself, but thee.</p>
+<h3>THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS.</h3>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span
+class="smcap">See</span> the chariot at hand here of Love,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Wherein my lady rideth!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Each that draws is a swan or a dove,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And well the car Love guideth.<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As she goes, all hearts do duty<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Unto her
+beauty;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And, enamoured, do wish, so they might<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But enjoy such a
+sight,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That they still were to run by her side,<br />
+Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Do but look on her eyes, they
+do light<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; All that Love&rsquo;s world
+compriseth!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Do but look on her hair, it is bright<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As Love&rsquo;s star when it
+riseth!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Do but mark, her forehead&rsquo;s smoother<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Than words that
+soothe her!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And from her arched brows, such a grace<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sheds itself
+through the face,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As alone there triumphs to the life<br />
+All the gain, all the good, of the elements&rsquo; strife.</p>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have you seen but a bright
+lily grow<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Before rude hands have touched
+it?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Have you marked but the fall o&rsquo; the snow<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Before the soil hath smutched
+it?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Have you felt the wool of beaver?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Or swan&rsquo;s
+down ever?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Or have smelt o&rsquo; the bud o&rsquo; the
+brier?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Or the nard in
+the fire?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Or have tasted the bag of the bee?<br />
+O so white!&nbsp; O so soft!&nbsp; O so sweet is she!</p>
+<h3>IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">A SONG APOLOGETIC.</span></h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Men</span>, if you love us,
+play no more<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The fools or tyrants with your friends,<br />
+To make us still sing o&rsquo;er and o&rsquo;er<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Our own false praises, for your ends:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We have both wits and fancies
+too,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And, if we must, let&rsquo;s sing
+of you.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Nor do we doubt but that we can,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; If we would search with care and pain,<br />
+Find some one good in some one man;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; So going thorough all your strain,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We shall, at last, of parcels
+make<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; One good enough for a song&rsquo;s
+sake.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And as a cunning painter takes,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In any curious piece you see,<br />
+More pleasure while the thing he makes,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Than when &rsquo;tis made&mdash;why so will we.<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And having pleased our art,
+we&rsquo;ll try<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To make a new, and hang that
+by.</p>
+<h3>ODE</h3>
+<p><i>To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble
+Pair</i>, <i>Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Morison</i>.</p>
+<h4>I.</h4>
+<h5>THE TURN.</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span
+class="smcap">Brave</span> infant of Saguntum, clear<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Thy coming forth in that great year,<br />
+When the prodigious Hannibal did crown<br />
+His cage, with razing your immortal town.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Thou, looking then about,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ere thou wert half got out,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Wise child, didst hastily return,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And mad&rsquo;st thy mother&rsquo;s womb thine
+urn.<br />
+How summed a circle didst thou leave mankind<br />
+Of deepest lore, could we the centre find!</p>
+<h5>THE COUNTER-TURN.</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Did wiser nature draw thee
+back,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; From out the horror of that sack,<br />
+Where shame, faith, honour, and regard of right,<br />
+Lay trampled on? the deeds of death and night,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Urged, hurried forth, and
+hurled<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Upon th&rsquo; affrighted
+world;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Sword, fire, and famine, with fell fury met,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And all on utmost ruin set;<br />
+As, could they but life&rsquo;s miseries foresee,<br />
+No doubt all infants would return like thee.</p>
+<h5>THE STAND.</h5>
+<p class="poetry">For what is life, if measured by the space<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Not by the act?<br />
+Or mask&egrave;d man, if valued by his face,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Above his fact?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Here&rsquo;s one outlived his peers,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And told forth fourscore years;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He vex&egrave;d time, and busied the whole state;<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Troubled both foes and friends;<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But ever to no ends:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; What did this stirrer but die late?<br />
+How well at twenty had he fallen or stood!<br />
+For three of his fourscore he did no good.</p>
+<h4>II.</h4>
+<h5>THE TURN</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He entered well, by virtuous
+parts,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Got up, and thrived with honest arts;<br />
+He purchased friends, and fame, and honours then,<br />
+And had his noble name advanced with men:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But weary of that flight,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; He stooped in all men&rsquo;s
+sight<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To sordid
+flatteries, acts of strife,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And sunk in that
+dead sea of life,<br />
+So deep, as he did then death&rsquo;s waters sup,<br />
+But that the cork of title buoyed him up.</p>
+<h5>THE COUNTER-TURN</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Alas! but Morison fell
+young:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He never fell,&mdash;thou fall&rsquo;st, my
+tongue.<br />
+He stood a soldier to the last right end,<br />
+A perfect patriot, and a noble friend;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But most, a virtuous son.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; All offices were done<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By him, so ample, full, and round,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In weight, in measure, number, sound,<br />
+As, though his age imperfect might appear,<br />
+His life was of humanity the sphere.</p>
+<h5>THE STAND</h5>
+<p class="poetry">Go now, and tell out days summed up with
+fears,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And make them years;<br />
+Produce thy mass of miseries on the stage,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To swell thine age;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Repeat of things a throng,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To show thou hast been long,<br />
+Not lived: for life doth her great actions spell.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By what was done and wrought<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In season, and so brought<br />
+To light: her measures are, how well<br />
+Each syllabe answered, and was formed, how fair;<br />
+These make the lines of life, and that&rsquo;s her air!</p>
+<h4>III.</h4>
+<h5>THE TURN</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It is not growing like a
+tree<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In bulk, doth make men better be;<br />
+Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,<br />
+To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A lily of a day,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Is fairer far in May,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Although it fall and die that night;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; It was the plant, and flower of light.<br />
+In small proportions we just beauties see;<br />
+And in short measures, life may perfect be.</p>
+<h5>THE COUNTER-TURN</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Call, noble Lucius, then for
+wine,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And let thy looks with gladness shine:<br />
+Accept this garland, plant it on thy head<br />
+And think, nay know, thy Morison&rsquo;s not dead<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; He leaped the present age,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Possessed with holy rage<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To see that bright eternal day;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Of which we priests and poets say,<br />
+Such truths, as we expect for happy men:<br />
+And there he lives with memory and Ben.</p>
+<h5>THE STAND</h5>
+<p class="poetry">Jonson, who sung this of him, ere he went,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Himself to
+rest,<br />
+Or taste a part of that full joy he meant<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To have
+expressed,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; In this bright Asterism!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where it were friendship&rsquo;s
+schism,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To separate these twi-<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lights, the Dioscouri;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And keep the one half from his Harry,<br />
+But fate doth so alternate the design<br />
+Whilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine.</p>
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+<h5>THE TURN</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And shine as you exalted
+are;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Two names of friendship, but one star:<br />
+Of hearts the union, and those not by chance<br />
+Made, or indenture, or leased out t&rsquo;advance<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The profits for a time.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; No pleasures vain did chime,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Of rhymes, or riots, at your feasts,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Orgies of drink, or feigned protests:<br />
+But simple love of greatness and of good,<br />
+That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.</p>
+<h5>THE COUNTER-TURN</h5>
+<p class="poetry">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This made you first to know
+the why<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; You liked, then after, to apply<br />
+That liking; and approach so one the t&rsquo;other,<br />
+Till either grew a portion of the other:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Each styled by his end,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The copy of his friend.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; You lived to be the great sir-names,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And titles, by which all made claims<br />
+Unto the virtue; nothing perfect done,<br />
+But as a Cary, or a Morison.</p>
+<h5>THE STAND</h5>
+<p class="poetry">And such a force the fair example had,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As they that
+saw<br />
+The good, and durst not practise it, were glad<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; That such a
+law<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Was left yet to mankind;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where they might read and find<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Friendship, indeed, was written not in words;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And with the heart, not pen,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Of two so early men,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Whose lines her rolls were, and records;<br />
+Who, ere the first down bloomed upon the chin,<br />
+Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in.</p>
+<h5>PR&AElig;LUDIUM.</h5>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">And</span> must I
+sing?&nbsp; What subject shall I choose!<br />
+Or whose great name in poets&rsquo; heaven use,<br />
+For the more countenance to my active muse?</p>
+<p class="poetry">Hercules? alas, his bones are yet sore<br />
+With his old earthly labours t&rsquo; exact more<br />
+Of his dull godhead were sin.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll implore</p>
+<p class="poetry">Ph&oelig;bus.&nbsp; No, tend thy cart
+still.&nbsp; Envious day<br />
+Shall not give out that I have made thee stay,<br />
+And foundered thy hot team, to tune my lay.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Nor will I beg of thee, lord of the vine,<br />
+To raise my spirits with thy conjuring wine,<br />
+In the green circle of thy ivy twine.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Pallas, nor thee I call on, mankind maid,<br />
+That at thy birth mad&rsquo;st the poor smith afraid.<br />
+Who with his axe thy father&rsquo;s midwife played.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Go, cramp dull Mars, light Venus, when he
+snorts,<br />
+Or with thy tribade trine invent new sports;<br />
+Thou, nor thy looseness with my making sorts.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Let the old boy, your son, ply his old task,<br
+/>
+Turn the stale prologue to some painted mask;<br />
+His absence in my verse is all I ask.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Hermes, the cheater, shall not mix with us,<br
+/>
+Though he would steal his sisters&rsquo; Pegasus,<br />
+And rifle him; or pawn his petasus.</p>
+<p class="poetry">Nor all the ladies of the Thespian lake,<br />
+Though they were crushed into one form, could make<br />
+A beauty of that merit, that should take</p>
+<p class="poetry">My muse up by commission; no, I bring<br />
+My own true fire: now my thought takes wing,<br />
+And now an epode to deep ears I sing.</p>
+<h3>EPODE.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Not</span> to know vice at
+all, and keep true state,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is virtue and not fate:<br />
+Next to that virtue, is to know vice well,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And her black spite expel.<br />
+Which to effect (since no breast is so sure,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Or safe, but she&rsquo;ll procure<br />
+Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Of thoughts to watch and ward<br />
+At th&rsquo; eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That no strange, or unkind<br />
+Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Give knowledge instantly<br />
+To wakeful reason, our affections&rsquo; king:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who, in th&rsquo; examining,<br />
+Will quickly taste the treason, and commit<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Close, the close cause of it.<br />
+&rsquo;Tis the securest policy we have,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To make our sense our slave.<br />
+But this true course is not embraced by many:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By many! scarce by any.<br />
+For either our affections do rebel,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Or else the sentinel,<br />
+That should ring &rsquo;larum to the heart, doth sleep:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Or some great thought doth keep<br />
+Back the intelligence, and falsely swears<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; They&rsquo;re base and idle fears<br />
+Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Thus, by these subtle trains,<br />
+Do several passions invade the mind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And strike our reason blind:<br />
+Of which usurping rank, some have thought love<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The first: as prone to move<br />
+Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In our inflam&egrave;d breasts:<br />
+But this doth from the cloud of error grow,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Which thus we over-blow.<br />
+The thing they here call love is blind desire,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Armed with bow, shafts, and fire;<br />
+Inconstant, like the sea, of whence &rsquo;tis born,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Rough, swelling, like a storm;<br />
+With whom who sails, rides on the surge of fear,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And boils as if he were<br />
+In a continual tempest.&nbsp; Now, true love<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; No such effects doth prove;<br />
+That is an essence far more gentle, fine,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Pure, perfect, nay, divine;<br />
+It is a golden chain let down from heaven,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Whose links are bright and even;<br />
+That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The soft and sweetest minds<br />
+In equal knots: this bears no brands, nor darts,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To murder different hearts,<br />
+But, in a calm and god-like unity,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Preserves community.<br />
+O, who is he that, in this peace, enjoys<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Th&rsquo; elixir of all joys?<br />
+A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And lasting as her flowers;<br />
+Richer than Time and, as Times&rsquo;s virtue, rare;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Sober as saddest care;<br />
+A fix&egrave;d thought, an eye untaught to glance;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who, blest with such high chance,<br />
+Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Cast himself from the spire<br />
+Of all his happiness?&nbsp; But soft: I hear<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Some vicious fool draw near,<br />
+That cries, we dream, and swears there&rsquo;s no such thing,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As this chaste love we sing.<br />
+Peace, Luxury! thou art like one of those<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who, being at sea, suppose,<br />
+Because they move, the continent doth so:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; No, Vice, we let thee know<br />
+Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows&rsquo; wings do fly,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Turtles can chastely die;<br />
+And yet (in this t&rsquo; express ourselves more clear)<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; We do not number here<br />
+Such spirits as are only continent,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Because lust&rsquo;s means are spent;<br />
+Or those who doubt the common mouth of fame,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And for their place and name,<br />
+Cannot so safely sin: their chastity<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is mere necessity;<br />
+Nor mean we those whom vows and conscience<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Have filled with abstinence:<br />
+Though we acknowledge who can so abstain,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Makes a most bless&egrave;d gain;<br />
+He that for love of goodness hateth ill,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Is more crown-worthy still<br />
+Than he, which for sin&rsquo;s penalty forbears:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; His heart sins, though he fears.<br />
+But we propose a person like our Dove,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Graced with a Ph&oelig;nix&rsquo; love;<br />
+A beauty of that clear and sparkling light,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Would make a day of night,<br />
+And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Whose odorous breath destroys<br />
+All taste of bitterness, and makes the air<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As sweet as she is fair.<br />
+A body so harmoniously composed,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As if nat&ugrave;re disclosed<br />
+All her best symmetry in that one feature!<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; O, so divine a creature<br />
+Who could be false to? chiefly, when he knows<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; How only she bestows<br />
+The wealthy treasure of her love on him;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Making his fortunes swim<br />
+In the full flood of her admired perfection?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; What savage, brute affection,<br />
+Would not be fearful to offend a dame<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Of this excelling frame?<br />
+Much more a noble, and right generous mind,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To virtuous moods inclined,<br />
+That knows the weight of guilt: he will refrain<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; From thoughts of such a strain,<br />
+And to his sense object this sentence ever,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &ldquo;Man may securely sin, but safely
+never.&rdquo;</p>
+<h3>AN ELEGY.</h3>
+<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Though</span> beauty be the
+mark of praise,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And yours, of whom I sing, be such<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As not the world can praise too much,<br />
+Yet is &rsquo;t your virtue now I raise.</p>
+<p class="poetry">A virtue, like allay, so gone<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Throughout your form, as though that move,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And draw, and conquer all men&rsquo;s love,<br />
+This subjects you to love of one,</p>
+<p class="poetry">Wherein you triumph yet: because<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &rsquo;Tis of yourself, and that you use<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The noblest freedom, not to choose<br />
+Against or faith, or honour&rsquo;s laws.</p>
+<p class="poetry">But who could less expect from you,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In whom alone Love lives again?<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By whom he is restored to men;<br />
+And kept, and bred, and brought up true?</p>
+<p class="poetry">His falling temples you have reared,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The withered garlands ta&rsquo;en away;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; His altars kept from the decay<br />
+That envy wished, and nature feared;</p>
+<p class="poetry">And on them burns so chaste a flame,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With so much loyalty&rsquo;s expense,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As Love, t&rsquo; acquit such excellence,<br />
+Is gone himself into your name.</p>
+<p class="poetry">And you are he: the deity<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; To whom all lovers are designed,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That would their better objects find;<br />
+Among which faithful troop am I;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Who, as an offering at your shrine,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Have sung this hymn, and here entreat<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; One spark of your diviner heat<br />
+To light upon a love of mine;</p>
+<p class="poetry">Which, if it kindle not, but scant<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Appear, and that to shortest view,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Yet give me leave t&rsquo; adore in you<br />
+What I, in her, am grieved to want.</p>
+<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2>
+<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11"
+class="footnote">[11]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;So live with yourself that
+you do not know how ill yow mind is furnished.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12"
+class="footnote">[12]</a>&nbsp;
+&Alpha;&upsilon;&tau;&omicron;&delta;&#943;&delta;&alpha;&kappa;&tau;&omicron;&sigmaf;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14"
+class="footnote">[14]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;A Puritan is a Heretical
+Hypocrite, in whom the conceit of his own perspicacity, by which
+he seems to himself to have observed certain errors in a few
+Church dogmas, has disturbed the balance of his mind, so that,
+excited vehemently by a sacred fury, he fights frenzied against
+civil authority, in the belief that he so pays obedience to
+God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote17a"></a><a href="#citation17a"
+class="footnote">[17a]</a>&nbsp; Night gives counsel.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote17b"></a><a href="#citation17b"
+class="footnote">[17b]</a>&nbsp; Plutarch in Life of
+Alexander.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let it not be, O King, that you know
+these things better than I.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote19a"></a><a href="#citation19a"
+class="footnote">[19a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;They were not our lords,
+but our leaders.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote19b"></a><a href="#citation19b"
+class="footnote">[19b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Much of it is left also
+for those who shall be hereafter.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote19c"></a><a href="#citation19c"
+class="footnote">[19c]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;No art is discovered at
+once and absolutely.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22"
+class="footnote">[22]</a>&nbsp; With a great belly.&nbsp; Comes
+de Schortenhien.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23"
+class="footnote">[23]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;In all things I have a
+better wit and courage than good fortune.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote24a"></a><a href="#citation24a"
+class="footnote">[24a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;The rich soil exhausts;
+but labour itself is an aid.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote24b"></a><a href="#citation24b"
+class="footnote">[24b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;And the gesticulation is
+vile.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote25a"></a><a href="#citation25a"
+class="footnote">[25a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;An end is to be looked
+for in every man, an animal most prompt to change.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote25b"></a><a href="#citation25b"
+class="footnote">[25b]</a>&nbsp; Arts are not shared among
+heirs.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote31a"></a><a href="#citation31a"
+class="footnote">[31a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;More loquacious than
+eloquent; words enough, but little
+wisdom.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Sallust</i>.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote31b"></a><a href="#citation31b"
+class="footnote">[31b]</a>&nbsp; Repeated in the following
+Latin.&nbsp; &ldquo;The best treasure is in that man&rsquo;s
+tongue, and he has mighty thanks, who metes out each thing in a
+few words.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Hesiod</i>.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote31c"></a><a href="#citation31c"
+class="footnote">[31c]</a>&nbsp; <i>Vid.</i> Zeuxidis pict. Serm.
+ad Megabizum.&mdash;<i>Plutarch</i>.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote32a"></a><a href="#citation32a"
+class="footnote">[32a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;While the unlearned is
+silent he may be accounted wise, for he has covered by his
+silence the diseases of his mind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote32b"></a><a href="#citation32b"
+class="footnote">[32b]</a>&nbsp; Taciturnity.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote33a"></a><a href="#citation33a"
+class="footnote">[33a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Hold your tongue above
+all things, after the example of the
+gods.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>See</i> Apuleius.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote33b"></a><a href="#citation33b"
+class="footnote">[33b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Press down the lip with
+the finger.&rdquo;&mdash;Juvenal.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote33c"></a><a href="#citation33c"
+class="footnote">[33c]</a>&nbsp; Plautus.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote33d"></a><a href="#citation33d"
+class="footnote">[33d]</a>&nbsp; Trinummus, Act 2, Scen. 4.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote34a"></a><a href="#citation34a"
+class="footnote">[34a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;It was the lodging of
+calamity.&rdquo;&mdash;Mart. lib. 1, ep. 85.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41"
+class="footnote">[41]</a>&nbsp; [&ldquo;Ficta omnia celeriter
+tanquam flosculi decidunt, nec simulatum potest quidquam esse
+diuturnum.&rdquo;&mdash;Cicero.]</p>
+<p><a name="footnote44a"></a><a href="#citation44a"
+class="footnote">[44a]</a>&nbsp; Let a Punic sponge go with the
+book.&mdash;Mart. 1. iv. epig. 10.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote47a"></a><a href="#citation47a"
+class="footnote">[47a]</a>&nbsp; He had to be repressed.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote49a"></a><a href="#citation49a"
+class="footnote">[49a]</a>&nbsp; A wit-stand.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote49b"></a><a href="#citation49b"
+class="footnote">[49b]</a>&nbsp; Martial. lib. xi. epig.
+91.&nbsp; That fall over the rough ways and high rocks.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote59a"></a><a href="#citation59a"
+class="footnote">[59a]</a>&nbsp; Sir Thomas More.&nbsp; Sir
+Thomas Wiat.&nbsp; Henry Earl of Surrey.&nbsp; Sir Thomas
+Chaloner.&nbsp; Sir Thomas Smith.&nbsp; Sir Thomas Eliot.&nbsp;
+Bishop Gardiner.&nbsp; Sir Nicolas Bacon, L.K.&nbsp; Sir Philip
+Sidney.&nbsp; Master Richard Hooker.&nbsp; Robert Earl of
+Essex.&nbsp; Sir Walter Raleigh.&nbsp; Sir Henry Savile.&nbsp;
+Sir Edwin Sandys.&nbsp; Sir Thomas Egerton, L.C.&nbsp; Sir
+Francis Bacon, L.C.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote62a"></a><a href="#citation62a"
+class="footnote">[62a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Which will secure a long
+age for the known writer.&rdquo;&mdash;Horat. <i>de Art.
+Poetica</i>.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote66a"></a><a href="#citation66a"
+class="footnote">[66a]</a>&nbsp; They have poison for their food,
+even for their dainty.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote74a"></a><a href="#citation74a"
+class="footnote">[74a]</a>&nbsp; Haud infima ars in principe, ubi
+lenitas, ubi severitas&mdash;plus polleat in commune bonum
+callere.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote74b"></a><a href="#citation74b"
+class="footnote">[74b]</a>&nbsp; <i>i.e.</i>, Machiavell.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote81a"></a><a href="#citation81a"
+class="footnote">[81a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Censure pardons the crows
+and vexes the doves.&rdquo;&mdash;Juvenal.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote81b"></a><a href="#citation81b"
+class="footnote">[81b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Does not spread his net
+for the hawk or the kite.&rdquo;&mdash;Plautus.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote93"></a><a href="#citation93"
+class="footnote">[93]</a>&nbsp; Parrhasius.&nbsp; Eupompus.&nbsp;
+Socrates.&nbsp; Parrhasius.&nbsp; Clito.&nbsp; Polygnotus.&nbsp;
+Aglaophon.&nbsp; Zeuxis.&nbsp; Parrhasius.&nbsp; Raphael de
+Urbino.&nbsp; Mich.&nbsp; Angelo Buonarotti.&nbsp; Titian.&nbsp;
+Antony de Correg.&nbsp; Sebast. de Venet.&nbsp; Julio
+Romano.&nbsp; Andrea Sartorio.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote94"></a><a href="#citation94"
+class="footnote">[94]</a>&nbsp; Plin. lib. 35. c. 2, 5, 6, and
+7.&nbsp; Vitruv. lib. 8 and 7.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95"
+class="footnote">[95]</a>&nbsp; Horat. in &ldquo;Arte
+Poet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote106a"></a><a href="#citation106a"
+class="footnote">[106a]</a>&nbsp; Livy, Sallust, Sidney, Donne,
+Gower, Chaucer, Spenser, Virgil, Ennius, Homer, Quintilian,
+Plautus, Terence.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote110a"></a><a href="#citation110a"
+class="footnote">[110a]</a>&nbsp; The interpreter of gods and
+men.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote111a"></a><a href="#citation111a"
+class="footnote">[111a]</a>&nbsp; Julius C&aelig;sar.&nbsp; Of
+words, <i>see</i> Hor. &ldquo;De Art. Poet.;&rdquo; Quintil. 1.
+8, &ldquo;Ludov. Vives,&rdquo; pp. 6 and 7.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote111b"></a><a href="#citation111b"
+class="footnote">[111b]</a>&nbsp; A prudent man conveys nothing
+rashly.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote114a"></a><a href="#citation114a"
+class="footnote">[114a]</a>&nbsp; That jolt as they fall over the
+rough places and the rocks.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote116a"></a><a href="#citation116a"
+class="footnote">[116a]</a>&nbsp; Directness enlightens,
+obliquity and circumlocution darken.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote117a"></a><a href="#citation117a"
+class="footnote">[117a]</a>&nbsp; Ocean trembles as if indignant
+that you quit the land.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote117b"></a><a href="#citation117b"
+class="footnote">[117b]</a>&nbsp; You might believe that the
+uprooted Cyclades were floating in.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote118a"></a><a href="#citation118a"
+class="footnote">[118a]</a>&nbsp; Those armies of the people of
+Rome that might break through the
+heavens.&mdash;C&aelig;sar.&nbsp; Comment. circa fin.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote124a"></a><a href="#citation124a"
+class="footnote">[124a]</a>&nbsp; No one can speak rightly unless
+he apprehends wisely.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote133a"></a><a href="#citation133a"
+class="footnote">[133a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Where the discussion of
+faults is general, no one is injured.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote133b"></a><a href="#citation133b"
+class="footnote">[133b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Gnaw tender little ears
+with biting truth.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Per Sat.</i> 1.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote133c"></a><a href="#citation133c"
+class="footnote">[133c]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;The wish for remedy is
+always truer than the hope.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Livius</i>.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote136a"></a><a href="#citation136a"
+class="footnote">[136a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;&AElig;neas dedicates
+these arms concerning the conquering
+Greeks.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Virg. &AElig;n.</i> lib. 3.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote136b"></a><a href="#citation136b"
+class="footnote">[136b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;You buy everything,
+Castor; the time will come when you will sell
+everything.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Martial</i>, lib. 8, epig. 19.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote136c"></a><a href="#citation136c"
+class="footnote">[136c]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Cinna wishes to seem
+poor, and is poor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote136d"></a><a href="#citation136d"
+class="footnote">[136d]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Which is evident in
+every first song.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote139a"></a><a href="#citation139a"
+class="footnote">[139a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;There is a god within
+us, and when he is stirred we grow warm; that spirit comes from
+heavenly realms.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote146a"></a><a href="#citation146a"
+class="footnote">[146a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;If it were allowable for
+immortals to weep for mortals, the Muses would weep for the poet
+N&aelig;vius; since he is handed to the chamber of Orcus, they
+have forgotten how to speak Latin at Rome.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote148a"></a><a href="#citation148a"
+class="footnote">[148a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;No one has judged poets
+less happily than he who wrote about them.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Senec.
+de Brev. Vit</i>, cap. 13, et epist. 88.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote149a"></a><a href="#citation149a"
+class="footnote">[149a]</a>&nbsp; Heins, de Sat. 265.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote149b"></a><a href="#citation149b"
+class="footnote">[149b]</a>&nbsp; Pag. 267.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote149c"></a><a href="#citation149c"
+class="footnote">[149c]</a>&nbsp; Pag. 270. 271.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote149d"></a><a href="#citation149d"
+class="footnote">[149d]</a>&nbsp; Pag. 273, <i>et seq.</i></p>
+<p><a name="footnote149e"></a><a href="#citation149e"
+class="footnote">[149e]</a>&nbsp; Pag. in comm. 153, <i>et
+seq.</i></p>
+<p><a name="footnote160a"></a><a href="#citation160a"
+class="footnote">[160a]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;And which jolt as they
+fall over the rough uneven road and high
+rocks.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Martial</i>, lib. xi. epig. 91.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND
+MATTER***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Discoveries, by Ben Jonson
+(#7 in our series by Ben Jonson)
+
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Discoveries and Some Poems
+
+Author: Ben Jonson
+
+Release Date: February, 2004  [EBook #5134]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 10, 2002]
+[Most recently updated: May 10, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, DISCOVERIES ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, from the
+1892 Cassell & Company edition.
+
+
+
+
+DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER
+AND SOME POEMS
+
+
+
+
+Contents:
+   Introduction by Henry Morley
+   Sylva
+   Timber, or Discoveries ...
+   Some Poems
+      To William Camden
+      On My First Daughter
+      On My First Son
+      To Francis Beaumont
+      Of Life and Death
+      Inviting a Friend to Supper
+      Epitaph on Salathiel Pavy
+      Epitaph on Elizabeth L. H.
+      Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke
+      To the Memory of my Beloved Master William Shakespeare
+      To Celia
+      The Triumph of Charis
+      In the Person of Womankind
+      Ode
+      Praeludium
+      Epode
+      An Elegy
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+Ben Jonson's "Discoveries" are, as he says in the few Latin words
+prefixed to them, "A wood--Sylva--of things and thoughts, in Greek
+"[Greek text]" [which has for its first meaning material, but is also applied
+peculiarly to kinds of wood, and to a wood], "from the multiplicity
+and variety of the material contained in it.  For, as we are
+commonly used to call the infinite mixed multitude of growing trees
+a wood, so the ancients gave the name of Sylvae--Timber Trees--to
+books of theirs in which small works of various and diverse matter
+were promiscuously brought together."
+
+In this little book we have some of the best thoughts of one of the
+most vigorous minds that ever added to the strength of English
+literature.  The songs added are a part of what Ben Jonson called
+his "Underwoods."
+
+Ben Jonson was of a north-country family from the Annan district
+that produced Thomas Carlyle.  His father was ruined by religious
+persecution in the reign of Mary, became a preacher in Elizabeth's
+reign, and died a month before the poet's birth in 1573.  Ben
+Jonson, therefore, was about nine years younger than Shakespeare,
+and he survived Shakespeare about twenty-one years, dying in August,
+1637.  Next to Shakespeare Ben Jonson was, in his own different way,
+the man of most mark in the story of the English drama.  His mother,
+left poor, married again.  Her second husband was a bricklayer, or
+small builder, and they lived for a time near Charing Cross in
+Hartshorn Lane.  Ben Jonson was taught at the parish school of St.
+Martin's till he was discovered by William Camden, the historian.
+Camden was then second master in Westminster School.  He procured
+for young Ben an admission into his school, and there laid firm
+foundations for that scholarship which the poet extended afterwards
+by private study until his learning grew to be sworn-brother to his
+wit.
+
+Ben Jonson began the world poor.  He worked for a very short time in
+his step-father's business.  He volunteered to the wars in the Low
+Countries.  He came home again, and joined the players.  Before the
+end of Elizabeth's reign he had written three or four plays, in
+which he showed a young and ardent zeal for setting the world to
+rights, together with that high sense of the poet's calling which
+put lasting force into his work.  He poured contempt on those who
+frittered life away.  He urged on the poetasters and the mincing
+courtiers, who set their hearts on top-knots and affected movements
+of their lips and legs:-
+
+
+"That these vain joys in which their wills consume
+Such powers of wit and soul as are of force
+To raise their beings to eternity,
+May be converted on works fitting men;
+And for the practice of a forced look,
+An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,
+Study the native frame of a true heart,
+An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,
+And spirit that may conform them actually
+To God's high figures, which they have in power."
+
+
+Ben Jonson's genius was producing its best work in the earlier years
+of the reign of James I.  His Volpone, the Silent Woman, and the
+Alchemist first appeared side by side with some of the ripest works
+of Shakespeare in the years from 1605 to 1610.  In the latter part
+of James's reign he produced masques for the Court, and turned with
+distaste from the public stage.  When Charles I. became king, Ben
+Jonson was weakened in health by a paralytic stroke.  He returned to
+the stage for a short time through necessity, but found his best
+friends in the best of the young poets of the day.  These looked up
+to him as their father and their guide.  Their own best efforts
+seemed best to them when they had won Ben Jonson's praise.  They
+valued above all passing honours man could give the words, "My son,"
+in the old poet's greeting, which, as they said, "sealed them of the
+tribe of Ben."
+
+H. M.
+
+
+
+SYLVA
+
+
+
+Rerum et sententiarum quasi "[Greek text] dicta a multiplici materia et
+varietate in iis contenta.  Quemadmodum enim vulgo solemus infinitam
+arborum nascentium indiscriminatim multitudinem Sylvam dicere:  ita
+etiam libros suos in quibus variae et diversae materiae opuscula
+temere congesta erant, Sylvas appellabant antiqui:  Timber-trees.
+
+
+
+TIMBER;
+OR,
+DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER,
+AS THEY HAVE FLOWED OUT OF HIS DAILY READINGS,
+OR HAD THEIR REFLUX TO HIS PECULIAR
+NOTION OF THE TIMES.
+
+Tecum habita, ut noris quam sit tibi curta supellex {11}
+PERS.  Sat. 4.
+
+
+
+Fortuna.--Ill fortune never crushed that man whom good fortune
+deceived not.  I therefore have counselled my friends never to trust
+to her fairer side, though she seemed to make peace with them; but
+to place all things she gave them, so as she might ask them again
+without their trouble, she might take them from them, not pull them:
+to keep always a distance between her and themselves.  He knows not
+his own strength that hath not met adversity.  Heaven prepares good
+men with crosses; but no ill can happen to a good man.  Contraries
+are not mixed.  Yet that which happens to any man may to every man.
+But it is in his reason, what he accounts it and will make it.
+
+Casus.--Change into extremity is very frequent and easy.  As when a
+beggar suddenly grows rich, he commonly becomes a prodigal; for, to
+obscure his former obscurity, he puts on riot and excess.
+
+Consilia.--No man is so foolish but may give another good counsel
+sometimes; and no man is so wise but may easily err, if he will take
+no others' counsel but his own.  But very few men are wise by their
+own counsel, or learned by their own teaching.  For he that was only
+taught by himself {12} had a fool to his master.
+
+Fama.--A Fame that is wounded to the world would be better cured by
+another's apology than its own:  for few can apply medicines well
+themselves.  Besides, the man that is once hated, both his good and
+his evil deeds oppress him.  He is not easily emergent.
+
+Negotia.--In great affairs it is a work of difficulty to please all.
+And ofttimes we lose the occasions of carrying a business well and
+thoroughly by our too much haste.  For passions are spiritual
+rebels, and raise sedition against the understanding.
+
+Amor patriae.--There is a necessity all men should love their
+country:  he that professeth the contrary may be delighted with his
+words, but his heart is there.
+
+Ingenia.--Natures that are hardened to evil you shall sooner break
+than make straight; they are like poles that are crooked and dry,
+there is no attempting them.
+
+Applausus.--We praise the things we hear with much more willingness
+than those we see, because we envy the present and reverence the
+past; thinking ourselves instructed by the one, and overlaid by the
+other.
+
+Opinio.--Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing;
+settled in the imagination, but never arriving at the understanding,
+there to obtain the tincture of reason.  We labour with it more than
+truth.  There is much more holds us than presseth us.  An ill fact
+is one thing, an ill fortune is another; yet both oftentimes sway us
+alike, by the error of our thinking.
+
+Impostura.--Many men believe not themselves what they would persuade
+others; and less do the things which they would impose on others;
+but least of all know what they themselves most confidently boast.
+Only they set the sign of the cross over their outer doors, and
+sacrifice to their gut and their groin in their inner closets.
+
+Jactura vitae.--What a deal of cold business doth a man misspend the
+better part of life in! in scattering compliments, tendering visits,
+gathering and venting news, following feasts and plays, making a
+little winter-love in a dark corner.
+
+Hypocrita.--Puritanus Hypocrita est Haereticus, quem opinio propriae
+perspicaciae, qua sibi videtur, cum paucis in Ecclesia dogmatibus
+errores quosdam animadvertisse, de statu mentis deturbavit:  unde
+sacro furore percitus, phrenetice pugnat contra magistratus, sic
+ratus obedientiam praestare Deo. {14}
+
+Mutua auxilia.--Learning needs rest:  sovereignty gives it.
+Sovereignty needs counsel:  learning affords it.  There is such a
+consociation of offices between the prince and whom his favour
+breeds, that they may help to sustain his power as he their
+knowledge.  It is the greatest part of his liberality, his favour;
+and from whom doth he hear discipline more willingly, or the arts
+discoursed more gladly, than from those whom his own bounty and
+benefits have made able and faithful?
+
+Cognit. univers.--In being able to counsel others, a man must be
+furnished with a universal store in himself, to the knowledge of all
+nature--that is, the matter and seed-plot:  there are the seats of
+all argument and invention.  But especially you must be cunning in
+the nature of man:  there is the variety of things which are as the
+elements and letters, which his art and wisdom must rank and order
+to the present occasion.  For we see not all letters in single
+words, nor all places in particular discourses.  That cause seldom
+happens wherein a man will use all arguments.
+
+Consiliarii adjunct.  Probitas, Sapientia.--The two chief things
+that give a man reputation in counsel are the opinion of his honesty
+and the opinion of his wisdom:  the authority of those two will
+persuade when the same counsels uttered by other persons less
+qualified are of no efficacy or working.
+
+Vita recta.--Wisdom without honesty is mere craft and cozenage.  And
+therefore the reputation of honesty must first be gotten, which
+cannot be but by living well.  A good life is a main argument.
+
+Obsequentia.--Humanitas.--Solicitudo.--Next a good life, to beget
+love in the persons we counsel, by dissembling our knowledge of
+ability in ourselves, and avoiding all suspicion of arrogance,
+ascribing all to their instruction, as an ambassador to his master,
+or a subject to his sovereign; seasoning all with humanity and
+sweetness, only expressing care and solicitude.  And not to counsel
+rashly, or on the sudden, but with advice and meditation.  (Dat nox
+consilium. {17a})  For many foolish things fall from wise men, if
+they speak in haste or be extemporal.  It therefore behoves the
+giver of counsel to be circumspect; especially to beware of those
+with whom he is not thoroughly acquainted, lest any spice of
+rashness, folly, or self-love appear, which will be marked by new
+persons and men of experience in affairs.
+
+Modestia.--Parrhesia.--And to the prince, or his superior, to behave
+himself modestly and with respect.  Yet free from flattery or
+empire.  Not with insolence or precept; but as the prince were
+already furnished with the parts he should have, especially in
+affairs of state.  For in other things they will more easily suffer
+themselves to be taught or reprehended:  they will not willingly
+contend, but hear, with Alexander, the answer the musician gave him:
+Absit, o rex, ut tu melius haec scias, quam ego. {17b}
+
+Perspicuitas.--Elegantia.--A man should so deliver himself to the
+nature of the subject whereof he speaks, that his hearer may take
+knowledge of his discipline with some delight; and so apparel fair
+and good matter, that the studious of elegancy be not defrauded;
+redeem arts from their rough and braky seats, where they lay hid and
+overgrown with thorns, to a pure, open, and flowery light, where
+they may take the eye and be taken by the hand.
+
+Natura non effaeta.--I cannot think Nature is so spent and decayed
+that she can bring forth nothing worth her former years.  She is
+always the same, like herself; and when she collects her strength is
+abler still.  Men are decayed, and studies:  she is not.
+
+Non nimium credendum antiquitati.--I know nothing can conduce more
+to letters than to examine the writings of the ancients, and not to
+rest in their sole authority, or take all upon trust from them,
+provided the plagues of judging and pronouncing against them be
+away; such as are envy, bitterness, precipitation, impudence, and
+scurrilous scoffing.  For to all the observations of the ancients we
+have our own experience, which if we will use and apply, we have
+better means to pronounce.  It is true they opened the gates, and
+made the way that went before us, but as guides, not commanders:
+Non domini nostri, sed duces fuere. {19a}   Truth lies open to all;
+it is no man's several.  Patet omnibus veritas; nondum est occupata.
+Multum ex illa, etiam futuris relicta est. {19b}
+
+Dissentire licet, sed cum ratione.--If in some things I dissent from
+others, whose wit, industry, diligence, and judgment, I look up at
+and admire, let me not therefore hear presently of ingratitude and
+rashness.  For I thank those that have taught me, and will ever; but
+yet dare not think the scope of their labour and inquiry was to envy
+their posterity what they also could add and find out.
+
+Non mihi credendum sed veritati.--If I err, pardon me:  Nulla ars
+simul et inventa est et absoluta. {19c}  I do not desire to be equal
+to those that went before; but to have my reason examined with
+theirs, and so much faith to be given them, or me, as those shall
+evict.  I am neither author nor fautor of any sect.  I will have no
+man addict himself to me; but if I have anything right, defend it as
+Truth's, not mine, save as it conduceth to a common good.  It
+profits not me to have any man fence or fight for me, to flourish,
+or take my side.  Stand for truth, and 'tis enough.
+
+Scientiae liberales.--Arts that respect the mind were ever reputed
+nobler than those that serve the body, though we less can be without
+them, as tillage, spinning, weaving, building, &c., without which we
+could scarce sustain life a day.  But these were the works of every
+hand; the other of the brain only, and those the most generous and
+exalted wits and spirits, that cannot rest or acquiesce.  The mind
+of man is still fed with labour:  Opere pascitur.
+
+Non vulgi sunt.--There is a more secret cause, and the power of
+liberal studies lies more hid than that it can be wrought out by
+profane wits.  It is not every man's way to hit.  There are men, I
+confess, that set the carat and value upon things as they love them;
+but science is not every man's mistress.  It is as great a spite to
+be praised in the wrong place, and by a wrong person, as can be done
+to a noble nature.
+
+Honesta ambitio.--If divers men seek fame or honour by divers ways,
+so both be honest, neither is to be blamed; but they that seek
+immortality are not only worthy of love, but of praise.
+
+Maritus improbus.--He hath a delicate wife, a fair fortune, a family
+to go to and be welcome; yet he had rather be drunk with mine host
+and the fiddlers of such a town, than go home.
+
+Afflictio pia magistra.--Affliction teacheth a wicked person some
+time to pray:  prosperity never.
+
+Deploratis facilis descensus Averni.--The devil take all.--Many
+might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they
+would venture their industry the right way; but "The devil take
+all!" quoth he that was choked in the mill-dam, with his four last
+words in his mouth.
+
+AEgidius cursu superat.--A cripple in the way out-travels a footman
+or a post out of the way.
+
+Prodigo nummi nauci.--Bags of money to a prodigal person are the
+same that cherry-stones are with some boys, and so thrown away.
+
+Munda et sordida.--A woman, the more curious she is about her face
+is commonly the more careless about her house.
+
+Debitum deploratum.--Of this spilt water there is a little to be
+gathered up:  it is a desperate debt.
+
+Latro sesquipedalis.--The thief {22} that had a longing at the
+gallows to commit one robbery more before he was hanged.
+
+And like the German lord, when he went out of Newgate into the cart,
+took order to have his arms set up in his last herborough:  said was
+he taken and committed upon suspicion of treason, no witness
+appearing against him; but the judges entertained him most civilly,
+discoursed with him, offered him the courtesy of the rack; but he
+confessed, &c.
+
+Calumniae fructus.--I am beholden to calumny, that she hath so
+endeavoured and taken pains to belie me.  It shall make me set a
+surer guard on myself, and keep a better watch upon my actions.
+
+Impertinens.--A tedious person is one a man would leap a steeple
+from, gallop down any steep lull to avoid him; forsake his meat,
+sleep, nature itself, with all her benefits, to shun him.  A mere
+impertinent; one that touched neither heaven nor earth in his
+discourse.  He opened an entry into a fair room, but shut it again
+presently.  I spoke to him of garlic, he answered asparagus;
+consulted him of marriage, he tells me of hanging, as if they went
+by one and the same destiny.
+
+Bellum scribentium.--What a sight it is to see writers committed
+together by the ears for ceremonies, syllables, points, colons,
+commas, hyphens, and the like, fighting as for their fires and their
+altars; and angry that none are frighted at their noises and loud
+brayings under their asses' skins.
+
+There is hope of getting a fortune without digging in these
+quarries.  Sed meliore (in omne) ingenio animoque quam fortuna, sum
+usus. {23}
+
+"Pingue solum lassat; sed juvat ipse labor." {24a}
+
+Differentia inter doctos et sciolos.--Wits made out their several
+expeditions then for the discovery of truth, to find out great and
+profitable knowledges; had their several instruments for the
+disquisition of arts.  Now there are certain scioli or smatterers
+that are busy in the skirts and outsides of learning, and have
+scarce anything of solid literature to commend them.  They may have
+some edging or trimming of a scholar, a welt or so; but it is no
+more.
+
+Impostorum fucus.--Imposture is a specious thing, yet never worse
+than when it feigns to be best, and to none discovered sooner than
+the simplest.  For truth and goodness are plain and open; but
+imposture is ever ashamed of the light.
+
+Icunculorum motio.--A puppet-play must be shadowed and seen in the
+dark; for draw the curtain, et sordet gesticulatio. {24b}
+
+Principes et administri.--There is a great difference in the
+understanding of some princes, as in the quality of their ministers
+about them.  Some would dress their masters in gold, pearl, and all
+true jewels of majesty; others furnish them with feathers, bells,
+and ribands, and are therefore esteemed the fitter servants.  But
+they are ever good men that must make good the times; if the men be
+naught, the times will be such.  Finis exspectandus est in unoquoque
+hominum; animali ad mutationem promptissmo. {25a}
+
+Scitum Hispanicum.--It is a quick saying with the Spaniards, Artes
+inter haeredes non dividi. {25b}  Yet these have inherited their
+fathers' lying, and they brag of it.  He is a narrow-minded man that
+affects a triumph in any glorious study; but to triumph in a lie,
+and a lie themselves have forged, is frontless.  Folly often goes
+beyond her bounds; but Impudence knows none.
+
+Non nova res livor.--Envy is no new thing, nor was it born only in
+our times.  The ages past have brought it forth, and the coming ages
+will.  So long as there are men fit for it, quorum odium virtute
+relicta placet, it will never be wanting.  It is a barbarous envy,
+to take from those men's virtues which, because thou canst not
+arrive at, thou impotently despairest to imitate.  Is it a crime in
+me that I know that which others had not yet known but from me? or
+that I am the author of many things which never would have come in
+thy thought but that I taught them?  It is new but a foolish way you
+have found out, that whom you cannot equal or come near in doing,
+you would destroy or ruin with evil speaking; as if you had bound
+both your wits and natures 'prentices to slander, and then came
+forth the best artificers when you could form the foulest calumnies.
+
+Nil gratius protervo lib.--Indeed nothing is of more credit or
+request now than a petulant paper, or scoffing verses; and it is but
+convenient to the times and manners we live with, to have then the
+worst writings and studies flourish when the best begin to be
+despised.  Ill arts begin where good end.
+
+Jam literae sordent.--Pastus hodiern. ingen.--The time was when men
+would learn and study good things, not envy those that had them.
+Then men were had in price for learning; now letters only make men
+vile.  He is upbraidingly called a poet, as if it were a
+contemptible nick-name:  but the professors, indeed, have made the
+learning cheap--railing and tinkling rhymers, whose writings the
+vulgar more greedily read, as being taken with the scurrility and
+petulancy of such wits.  He shall not have a reader now unless he
+jeer and lie.  It is the food of men's natures; the diet of the
+times; gallants cannot sleep else.  The writer must lie and the
+gentle reader rests happy to hear the worthiest works
+misinterpreted, the clearest actions obscured, the innocentest life
+traduced:  and in such a licence of lying, a field so fruitful of
+slanders, how can there be matter wanting to his laughter?  Hence
+comes the epidemical infection; for how can they escape the
+contagion of the writings, whom the virulency of the calumnies hath
+not staved off from reading?
+
+Sed seculi morbus.--Nothing doth more invite a greedy reader than an
+unlooked-for subject.  And what more unlooked-for than to see a
+person of an unblamed life made ridiculous or odious by the artifice
+of lying?  But it is the disease of the age; and no wonder if the
+world, growing old, begin to be infirm:  old age itself is a
+disease.  It is long since the sick world began to dote and talk
+idly:  would she had but doted still! but her dotage is now broke
+forth into a madness, and become a mere frenzy.
+
+Alastoris malitia.--This Alastor, who hath left nothing unsearched
+or unassailed by his impudent and licentious lying in his aguish
+writings (for he was in his cold quaking fit all the while), what
+hath he done more than a troublesome base cur? barked and made a
+noise afar off; had a fool or two to spit in his mouth, and cherish
+him with a musty bone?  But they are rather enemies of my fame than
+me, these barkers.
+
+Mali Choragi fuere.--It is an art to have so much judgment as to
+apparel a lie well, to give it a good dressing; that though the
+nakedness would show deformed and odious, the suiting of it might
+draw their readers.  Some love any strumpet, be she never so shop-
+like or meretricious, in good clothes.  But these, nature could not
+have formed them better to destroy their own testimony and overthrow
+their calumny.
+
+Hear-say news.--That an elephant, in 1630, came hither ambassador
+from the Great Mogul, who could both write and read, and was every
+day allowed twelve cast of bread, twenty quarts of Canary sack,
+besides nuts and almonds the citizens' wives sent him.  That he had
+a Spanish boy to his interpreter, and his chief negociation was to
+confer or practise with Archy, the principal fool of state, about
+stealing hence Windsor Castle and carrying it away on his back if he
+can.
+
+Lingua sapientis, potius quam loquentis.--A wise tongue should not
+be licentious and wandering; but moved and, as it were, governed
+with certain reins from the heart and bottom of the breast:  and it
+was excellently said of that philosopher, that there was a wall or
+parapet of teeth set in our mouth, to restrain the petulancy of our
+words; that the rashness of talking should not only be retarded by
+the guard and watch of our heart, but be fenced in and defended by
+certain strengths placed in the mouth itself, and within the lips.
+But you shall see some so abound with words, without any seasoning
+or taste of matter, in so profound a security, as while they are
+speaking, for the most part they confess to speak they know not
+what.
+
+Of the two (if either were to be wished) I would rather have a plain
+downright wisdom, than a foolish and affected eloquence.  For what
+is so furious and Bedlam like as a vain sound of chosen and
+excellent words, without any subject of sentence or science mixed?
+
+Optanda.--Thersites Homeri.--Whom the disease of talking still once
+possesseth, he can never hold his peace.  Nay, rather than he will
+not discourse he will hire men to hear him.  And so heard, not
+hearkened unto, he comes off most times like a mountebank, that when
+he hath praised his medicines, finds none will take them, or trust
+him.  He is like Homer's Thersites.
+
+[Greek text]; speaking without judgement or measure.
+
+
+"Loquax magis, quam facundus,
+Satis loquentiae, sapientiae parum.{31a}
+[Greek verse]. {31b}
+Optimus est homini linguae thesaurus, et ingens
+Gratia, quae parcis mensurat singula verbis."
+
+
+Homeri Ulysses.--Demacatus Plutarchi.--Ulysses, in Homer, is made a
+long-thinking man before he speaks; and Epaminondas is celebrated by
+Pindar to be a man that, though he knew much, yet he spoke but
+little.  Demacatus, when on the bench he was long silent and said
+nothing, one asking him if it were folly in him, or want of
+language, he answered, "A fool could never hold his peace." {31c}
+For too much talking is ever the index of a fool.
+
+
+"Dum tacet indoctus, poterit cordatus haberi;
+Is morbos animi namque tacendo tegit." {32a}
+
+
+Nor is that worthy speech of Zeno the philosopher to be passed over
+with the note of ignorance; who being invited to a feast in Athens,
+where a great prince's ambassadors were entertained, and was the
+only person that said nothing at the table; one of them with
+courtesy asked him, "What shall we return from thee, Zeno, to the
+prince our master, if he asks us of thee?"  "Nothing," he replied,
+"more but that you found an old man in Athens that knew to be silent
+amongst his cups."  It was near a miracle to see an old man silent,
+since talking is the disease of age; but amongst cups makes it fully
+a wonder.
+
+Argute dictum.--It was wittily said upon one that was taken for a
+great and grave man so long as he held his peace, "This man might
+have been a counsellor of state, till he spoke; but having spoken,
+not the beadle of the ward."  [Greek text]. {32b}  Pytag. quam
+laudabilis!  [Greek text].  Linguam cohibe, prae aliis omnibus, ad
+deorum exemplum. {33a}  Digito compesce labellum. {33b}
+
+Acutius cernuntur vitia quam virtutes.--There is almost no man but
+he sees clearlier and sharper the vices in a speaker, than the
+virtues.  And there are many, that with more ease will find fault
+with what is spoken foolishly than can give allowance to that
+wherein you are wise silently.  The treasure of a fool is always in
+his tongue, said the witty comic poet; {33c} and it appears not in
+anything more than in that nation, whereof one, when he had got the
+inheritance of an unlucky old grange, would needs sell it; {33d} and
+to draw buyers proclaimed the virtues of it.  Nothing ever thrived
+on it, saith he.  No owner of it ever died in his bed; some hung,
+some drowned themselves; some were banished, some starved; the trees
+were all blasted; the swine died of the measles, the cattle of the
+murrain, the sheep of the rot; they that stood were ragged, bare,
+and bald as your hand; nothing was ever reared there, not a
+duckling, or a goose.  Hospitium fuerat calamitatis. {34a}  Was not
+this man like to sell it?
+
+Vulgi expectatio.--Expectation of the vulgar is more drawn and held
+with newness than goodness; we see it in fencers, in players, in
+poets, in preachers, in all where fame promiseth anything; so it be
+new, though never so naught and depraved, they run to it, and are
+taken.  Which shews, that the only decay or hurt of the best men's
+reputation with the people is, their wits have out-lived the
+people's palates.  They have been too much or too long a feast.
+
+Claritas patriae.--Greatness of name in the father oft-times helps
+not forth, but overwhelms the son; they stand too near one another.
+The shadow kills the growth:  so much, that we see the grandchild
+come more and oftener to be heir of the first, than doth the second:
+he dies between; the possession is the third's.
+
+Eloquentia.--Eloquence is a great and diverse thing:  nor did she
+yet ever favour any man so much as to become wholly his.  He is
+happy that can arrive to any degree of her grace.  Yet there are who
+prove themselves masters of her, and absolute lords; but I believe
+they may mistake their evidence:  for it is one thing to be eloquent
+in the schools, or in the hall; another at the bar, or in the
+pulpit.  There is a difference between mooting and pleading; between
+fencing and fighting.  To make arguments in my study, and confute
+them, is easy; where I answer myself, not an adversary.  So I can
+see whole volumes dispatched by the umbratical doctors on all sides:
+but draw these forth into the just lists:  let them appear sub dio,
+and they are changed with the place, like bodies bred in the shade;
+they cannot suffer the sun or a shower, nor bear the open air; they
+scarce can find themselves, that they were wont to domineer so among
+their auditors:  but indeed I would no more choose a rhetorician for
+reigning in a school, than I would a pilot for rowing in a pond.
+
+Amor et odium.--Love that is ignorant, and hatred, have almost the
+same ends:  many foolish lovers wish the same to their friends,
+which their enemies would:  as to wish a friend banished, that they
+might accompany him in exile; or some great want, that they might
+relieve him; or a disease, that they might sit by him.  They make a
+causeway to their country by injury, as if it were not honester to
+do nothing than to seek a way to do good by a mischief.
+
+Injuria.--Injuries do not extinguish courtesies:  they only suffer
+them not to appear fair.  For a man that doth me an injury after a
+courtesy, takes not away that courtesy, but defaces it:  as he that
+writes other verses upon my verses, takes not away the first
+letters, but hides them.
+
+Beneficia.--Nothing is a courtesy unless it be meant us; and that
+friendly and lovingly.  We owe no thanks to rivers, that they carry
+our boats; or winds, that they be favouring and fill our sails; or
+meats, that they be nourishing.  For these are what they are
+necessarily.  Horses carry us, trees shade us, but they know it not.
+It is true, some men may receive a courtesy and not know it; but
+never any man received it from him that knew it not.  Many men have
+been cured of diseases by accidents; but they were not remedies.  I
+myself have known one helped of an ague by falling into a water;
+another whipped out of a fever; but no man would ever use these for
+medicines.  It is the mind, and not the event, that distinguisheth
+the courtesy from wrong.  My adversary may offend the judge with his
+pride and impertinences, and I win my cause; but he meant it not to
+me as a courtesy.  I scaped pirates by being shipwrecked; was the
+wreck a benefit therefore?  No; the doing of courtesies aright is
+the mixing of the respects for his own sake and for mine.  He that
+doeth them merely for his own sake is like one that feeds his cattle
+to sell them; he hath his horse well dressed for Smithfield.
+
+Valor rerum.--The price of many things is far above what they are
+bought and sold for.  Life and health, which are both inestimable,
+we have of the physician; as learning and knowledge, the true
+tillage of the mind, from our schoolmasters.  But the fees of the
+one or the salary of the other never answer the value of what we
+received, but served to gratify their labours.
+
+Memoria.--Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most
+delicate and frail; it is the first of our faculties that age
+invades.  Seneca, the father, the rhetorician, confesseth of himself
+he had a miraculous one, not only to receive but to hold.  I myself
+could, in my youth, have repeated all that ever I had made, and so
+continued till I was past forty; since, it is much decayed in me.
+Yet I can repeat whole books that I have read, and poems of some
+selected friends which I have liked to charge my memory with.  It
+was wont to be faithful to me; but shaken with age now, and sloth,
+which weakens the strongest abilities, it may perform somewhat, but
+cannot promise much.  By exercise it is to be made better and
+serviceable.  Whatsoever I pawned with it while I was young and a
+boy, it offers me readily, and without stops; but what I trust to it
+now, or have done of later years, it lays up more negligently, and
+oftentimes loses; so that I receive mine own (though frequently
+called for) as if it were new and borrowed.  Nor do I always find
+presently from it what I seek; but while I am doing another thing,
+that I laboured for will come; and what I sought with trouble will
+offer itself when I am quiet.  Now, in some men I have found it as
+happy as Nature, who, whatsoever they read or pen, they can say
+without book presently, as if they did then write in their mind.
+And it is more a wonder in such as have a swift style, for their
+memories are commonly slowest; such as torture their writings, and
+go into council for every word, must needs fix somewhat, and make it
+their own at last, though but through their own vexation.
+
+Comit. suffragia.--Suffrages in Parliament are numbered, not
+weighed; nor can it be otherwise in those public councils where
+nothing is so unequal as the equality; for there, how odd soever
+men's brains or wisdoms are, their power is always even and the
+same.
+
+Stare a partibus.--Some actions, be they never so beautiful and
+generous, are often obscured by base and vile misconstructions,
+either out of envy or ill-nature, that judgeth of others as of
+itself.  Nay, the times are so wholly grown to be either partial or
+malicious, that if he be a friend all sits well about him, his very
+vices shall be virtues; if an enemy, or of the contrary faction,
+nothing is good or tolerable in him; insomuch that we care not to
+discredit and shame our judgments to soothe our passions.
+
+Deus in creaturis.--Man is read in his face; God in His creatures;
+not as the philosopher, the creature of glory, reads him; but as the
+divine, the servant of humility; yet even he must take care not to
+be too curious.  For to utter truth of God but as he thinks only,
+may be dangerous, who is best known by our not knowing.  Some things
+of Him, so much as He hath revealed or commanded, it is not only
+lawful but necessary for us to know; for therein our ignorance was
+the first cause of our wickedness.
+
+Veritas proprium hominis.--Truth is man's proper good, and the only
+immortal thing was given to our mortality to use.  No good Christian
+or ethnic, if he be honest, can miss it; no statesman or patriot
+should.  For without truth all the actions of mankind are craft,
+malice, or what you will, rather than wisdom.  Homer says he hates
+him worse than hell-mouth that utters one thing with his tongue and
+keeps another in his breast.  Which high expression was grounded on
+divine reason; for a lying mouth is a stinking pit, and murders with
+the contagion it venteth.  Beside, nothing is lasting that is
+feigned; it will have another face than it had, ere long. {41}  As
+Euripides saith, "No lie ever grows old."
+
+Nullum vitium sine patrocinio.--It is strange there should be no
+vice without its patronage, that when we have no other excuse we
+will say, we love it, we cannot forsake it.  As if that made it not
+more a fault.  We cannot, because we think we cannot, and we love it
+because we will defend it.  We will rather excuse it than be rid of
+it.  That we cannot is pretended; but that we will not is the true
+reason.  How many have I known that would not have their vices hid?
+nay, and, to be noted, live like Antipodes to others in the same
+city? never see the sun rise or set in so many years, but be as they
+were watching a corpse by torch-light; would not sin the common way,
+but held that a kind of rusticity; they would do it new, or
+contrary, for the infamy; they were ambitious of living backward;
+and at last arrived at that, as they would love nothing but the
+vices, not the vicious customs.  It was impossible to reform these
+natures; they were dried and hardened in their ill.  They may say
+they desired to leave it, but do not trust them; and they may think
+they desire it, but they may lie for all that; they are a little
+angry with their follies now and then; marry, they come into grace
+with them again quickly.  They will confess they are offended with
+their manner of living like enough; who is not?  When they can put
+me in security that they are more than offended, that they hate it,
+then I will hearken to them, and perhaps believe them; but many now-
+a-days love and hate their ill together.
+
+De vere argutis.--I do hear them say often some men are not witty,
+because they are not everywhere witty; than which nothing is more
+foolish.  If an eye or a nose be an excellent part in the face,
+therefore be all eye or nose!  I think the eyebrow, the forehead,
+the cheek, chin, lip, or any part else are as necessary and natural
+in the place.  But now nothing is good that is natural; right and
+natural language seems to have least of the wit in it; that which is
+writhed and tortured is counted the more exquisite.  Cloth of bodkin
+or tissue must be embroidered; as if no face were fair that were not
+powdered or painted! no beauty to be had but in wresting and
+writhing our own tongue!  Nothing is fashionable till it be
+deformed; and this is to write like a gentleman.  All must be
+affected and preposterous as our gallants' clothes, sweet-bags, and
+night-dressings, in which you would think our men lay in, like
+ladies, it is so curious.
+
+Censura de poetis.--Nothing in our age, I have observed, is more
+preposterous than the running judgments upon poetry and poets; when
+we shall hear those things commended and cried up for the best
+writings which a man would scarce vouchsafe to wrap any wholesome
+drug in; he would never light his tobacco with them.  And those men
+almost named for miracles, who yet are so vile that if a man should
+go about to examine and correct them, he must make all they have
+done but one blot.  Their good is so entangled with their bad as
+forcibly one must draw on the other's death with it.  A sponge
+dipped in ink will do all:-
+
+
+"--Comitetur Punica librum
+Spongia.--" {44a}
+
+
+Et paulo post,
+
+
+"Non possunt . . . multae . . . liturae
+. . . una litura potest."
+
+
+Cestius--Cicero--Heath--Taylor--Spenser.--Yet their vices have not
+hurt them; nay, a great many they have profited, for they have been
+loved for nothing else.  And this false opinion grows strong against
+the best men, if once it take root with the ignorant.  Cestius, in
+his time, was preferred to Cicero, so far as the ignorant durst.
+They learned him without book, and had him often in their mouths;
+but a man cannot imagine that thing so foolish or rude but will find
+and enjoy an admirer; at least a reader or spectator.  The puppets
+are seen now in despite of the players; Heath's epigrams and the
+Sculler's poems have their applause.  There are never wanting that
+dare prefer the worst preachers, the worst pleaders, the worst
+poets; not that the better have left to write or speak better, but
+that they that hear them judge worse; Non illi pejus dicunt, sed hi
+corruptius judicant.  Nay, if it were put to the question of the
+water-rhymer's works, against Spenser's, I doubt not but they would
+find more suffrages; because the most favour common vices, out of a
+prerogative the vulgar have to lose their judgments and like that
+which is naught.
+
+Poetry, in this latter age, hath proved but a mean mistress to such
+as have wholly addicted themselves to her, or given their names up
+to her family.  They who have but saluted her on the by, and now and
+then tendered their visits, she hath done much for, and advanced in
+the way of their own professions (both the law and the gospel)
+beyond all they could have hoped or done for themselves without her
+favour.  Wherein she doth emulate the judicious but preposterous
+bounty of the time's grandees, who accumulate all they can upon the
+parasite or fresh-man in their friendship; but think an old client
+or honest servant bound by his place to write and starve.
+
+Indeed, the multitude commend writers as they do fencers or
+wrestlers, who if they come in robustiously and put for it with a
+deal of violence are received for the braver fellows; when many
+times their own rudeness is a cause of their disgrace, and a slight
+touch of their adversary gives all that boisterous force the foil.
+But in these things the unskilful are naturally deceived, and
+judging wholly by the bulk, think rude things greater than polished,
+and scattered more numerous than composed; nor think this only to be
+true in the sordid multitude, but the neater sort of our gallants;
+for all are the multitude, only they differ in clothes, not in
+judgment or understanding.
+
+De Shakspeare nostrat.--Augustus in Hat.--I remember the players
+have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, that in his
+writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line.  My
+answer hath been, "Would he had blotted a thousand," which they
+thought a malevolent speech.  I had not told posterity this but for
+their ignorance who chose that circumstance to commend their friend
+by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candour, for I
+loved the man, and do honour his memory on this side idolatry as
+much as any.  He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free
+nature, had an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle
+expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it
+was necessary he should be stopped.  "Sufflaminandus erat," {47a} as
+Augustus said of Haterius.  His wit was in his own power; would the
+rule of it had been so, too.  Many times he fell into those things,
+could not escape laughter, as when he said in the person of Caesar,
+one speaking to him, "Caesar, thou dost me wrong."  He replied,
+"Caesar did never wrong but with just cause;" and such like, which
+were ridiculous.  But he redeemed his vices with his virtues.  There
+was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned.
+
+Ingeniorum discrimina.--Not. 1.--In the difference of wits I have
+observed there are many notes; and it is a little maistry to know
+them, to discern what every nature, every disposition will bear; for
+before we sow our land we should plough it.  There are no fewer
+forms of minds than of bodies amongst us.  The variety is
+incredible, and therefore we must search.  Some are fit to make
+divines, some poets, some lawyers, some physicians; some to be sent
+to the plough, and trades.
+
+There is no doctrine will do good where nature is wanting.  Some
+wits are swelling and high; others low and still; some hot and
+fiery; others cold and dull; one must have a bridle, the other a
+spur.
+
+Not. 2.--There be some that are forward and bold; and these will do
+every little thing easily.  I mean that is hard by and next them,
+which they will utter unretarded without any shamefastness.  These
+never perform much, but quickly.  They are what they are on the
+sudden; they show presently, like grain that, scattered on the top
+of the ground, shoots up, but takes no root; has a yellow blade, but
+the ear empty.  They are wits of good promise at first, but there is
+an ingenistitium; {49a} they stand still at sixteen, they get no
+higher.
+
+Not. 3.--You have others that labour only to ostentation; and are
+ever more busy about the colours and surface of a work than in the
+matter and foundation, for that is hid, the other is seen.
+
+Not. 4.--Others that in composition are nothing but what is rough
+and broken.  Quae per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt. {49b}  And if
+it would come gently, they trouble it of purpose.  They would not
+have it run without rubs, as if that style were more strong and
+manly that struck the ear with a kind of unevenness.  These men err
+not by chance, but knowingly and willingly; they are like men that
+affect a fashion by themselves; have some singularity in a ruff
+cloak, or hat-band; or their beards specially cut to provoke
+beholders, and set a mark upon themselves.  They would be
+reprehended while they are looked on.  And this vice, one that is
+authority with the rest, loving, delivers over to them to be
+imitated; so that ofttimes the faults which be fell into the others
+seek for.  This is the danger, when vice becomes a precedent.
+
+Not. 5.--Others there are that have no composition at all; but a
+kind of tuning and rhyming fall in what they write.  It runs and
+slides, and only makes a sound.  Women's poets they are called, as
+you have women's tailors.
+
+
+"They write a verse as smooth, as soft as cream,
+In which there is no torrent, nor scarce stream."
+
+
+You may sound these wits and find the depth of them with your middle
+finger.  They are cream-bowl or but puddle-deep.
+
+Not. 6.--Some that turn over all books, and are equally searching in
+all papers; that write out of what they presently find or meet,
+without choice.  By which means it happens that what they have
+discredited and impugned in one week, they have before or after
+extolled the same in another.  Such are all the essayists, even
+their master Montaigne.  These, in all they write, confess still
+what books they have read last, and therein their own folly so much,
+that they bring it to the stake raw and undigested; not that the
+place did need it neither, but that they thought themselves
+furnished and would vent it
+
+Not. 7.--Some, again who, after they have got authority, or, which
+is less, opinion, by their writings, to have read much, dare
+presently to feign whole books and authors, and lie safely.  For
+what never was, will not easily be found, not by the most curious.
+
+Not. 8.--And some, by a cunning protestation against all reading,
+and false venditation of their own naturals, think to divert the
+sagacity of their readers from themselves, and cool the scent of
+their own fox-like thefts; when yet they are so rank, as a man may
+find whole pages together usurped from one author; their necessities
+compelling them to read for present use, which could not be in many
+books; and so come forth more ridiculously and palpably guilty than
+those who, because they cannot trace, they yet would slander their
+industry.
+
+Not. 9.--But the wretcheder are the obstinate contemners of all
+helps and arts; such as presuming on their own naturals (which,
+perhaps, are excellent), dare deride all diligence, and seem to mock
+at the terms when they understand not the things; thinking that way
+to get off wittily with their ignorance.  These are imitated often
+by such as are their peers in negligence, though they cannot be in
+nature; and they utter all they can think with a kind of violence
+and indisposition, unexamined, without relation either to person,
+place, or any fitness else; and the more wilful and stubborn they
+are in it the more learned they are esteemed of the multitude,
+through their excellent vice of judgment, who think those things the
+stronger that have no art; as if to break were better than to open,
+or to rend asunder gentler than to loose.
+
+Not. 10.--It cannot but come to pass that these men who commonly
+seek to do more than enough may sometimes happen on something that
+is good and great; but very seldom:  and when it comes it doth not
+recompense the rest of their ill.  For their jests, and their
+sentences (which they only and ambitiously seek for) stick out, and
+are more eminent, because all is sordid and vile about them; as
+lights are more discerned in a thick darkness than a faint shadow.
+Now, because they speak all they can (however unfitly), they are
+thought to have the greater copy; where the learned use ever
+election and a mean, they look back to what they intended at first,
+and make all an even and proportioned body.  The true artificer will
+not run away from Nature as he were afraid of her, or depart from
+life and the likeness of truth, but speak to the capacity of his
+hearers.  And though his language differ from the vulgar somewhat,
+it shall not fly from all humanity, with the Tamerlanes and Tamer-
+chains of the late age, which had nothing in them but the scenical
+strutting and furious vociferation to warrant them to the ignorant
+gapers.  He knows it is his only art so to carry it, as none but
+artificers perceive it.  In the meantime, perhaps, he is called
+barren, dull, lean, a poor writer, or by what contumelious word can
+come in their cheeks, by these men who, without labour, judgment,
+knowledge, or almost sense, are received or preferred before him.
+He gratulates them and their fortune.  Another age, or juster men,
+will acknowledge the virtues of his studies, his wisdom in dividing,
+his subtlety in arguing, with what strength he doth inspire his
+readers, with what sweetness he strokes them; in inveighing, what
+sharpness; in jest, what urbanity he uses; how he doth reign in
+men's affections; how invade and break in upon them, and makes their
+minds like the thing he writes.  Then in his elocution to behold
+what word is proper, which hath ornaments, which height, what is
+beautifully translated, where figures are fit, which gentle, which
+strong, to show the composition manly; and how he hath avoided
+faint, obscure, obscene, sordid, humble, improper, or effeminate
+phrase; which is not only praised of the most, but commended (which
+is worse), especially for that it is naught.
+
+Ignorantia animae.--I know no disease of the soul but ignorance, not
+of the arts and sciences, but of itself; yet relating to those it is
+a pernicious evil, the darkener of man's life, the disturber of his
+reason, and common confounder of truth, with which a man goes
+groping in the dark, no otherwise than if he were blind.  Great
+understandings are most racked and troubled with it; nay, sometimes
+they will rather choose to die than not to know the things they
+study for.  Think, then, what an evil it is, and what good the
+contrary.
+
+Scientia.--Knowledge is the action of the soul and is perfect
+without the senses, as having the seeds of all science and virtue in
+itself; but not without the service of the senses; by these organs
+the soul works:  she is a perpetual agent, prompt and subtle; but
+often flexible and erring, entangling herself like a silkworm, but
+her reason is a weapon with two edges, and cuts through.  In her
+indagations oft-times new scents put her by, and she takes in errors
+into her by the same conduits she doth truths.
+
+Otium Studiorum.--Ease and relaxation are profitable to all studies.
+The mind is like a bow, the stronger by being unbent.  But the
+temper in spirits is all, when to command a man's wit, when to
+favour it.  I have known a man vehement on both sides, that knew no
+mean, either to intermit his studies or call upon them again.  When
+he hath set himself to writing he would join night to day, press
+upon himself without release, not minding it, till he fainted; and
+when he left off, resolve himself into all sports and looseness
+again, that it was almost a despair to draw him to his book; but
+once got to it, he grew stronger and more earnest by the ease.  His
+whole powers were renewed; he would work out of himself what he
+desired, but with such excess as his study could not be ruled; he
+knew not how to dispose his own abilities, or husband them; he was
+of that immoderate power against himself.  Nor was he only a strong,
+but an absolute speaker and writer; but his subtlety did not show
+itself; his judgment thought that a vice; for the ambush hurts more
+that is hid.  He never forced his language, nor went out of the
+highway of speaking but for some great necessity or apparent profit;
+for he denied figures to be invented for ornament, but for aid; and
+still thought it an extreme madness to bind or wrest that which
+ought to be right.
+
+Stili eminentia.--Virgil.--Tully.--Sallust.--It is no wonder men's
+eminence appears but in their own way.  Virgil's felicity left him
+in prose, as Tully's forsook him in verse.  Sallust's orations are
+read in the honour of story, yet the most eloquent.  Plato's speech,
+which he made for Socrates, is neither worthy of the patron nor the
+person defended.  Nay, in the same kind of oratory, and where the
+matter is one, you shall have him that reasons strongly, open
+negligently; another that prepares well, not fit so well.  And this
+happens not only to brains, but to bodies.  One can wrestle well,
+another run well, a third leap or throw the bar, a fourth lift or
+stop a cart going; each hath his way of strength.  So in other
+creatures--some dogs are for the deer, some for the wild boar, some
+are fox-hounds, some otter-hounds.  Nor are all horses for the coach
+or saddle, some are for the cart and paniers.
+
+De Claris Oratoribus.--I have known many excellent men that would
+speak suddenly to the admiration of their hearers, who upon study
+and premeditation have been forsaken by their own wits, and no way
+answered their fame; their eloquence was greater than their reading,
+and the things they uttered better than those they knew; their
+fortune deserved better of them than their care.  For men of present
+spirits, and of greater wits than study, do please more in the
+things they invent than in those they bring.  And I have heard some
+of them compelled to speak, out of necessity, that have so
+infinitely exceeded themselves, as it was better both for them and
+their auditory that they were so surprised, not prepared.  Nor was
+it safe then to cross them, for their adversary, their anger made
+them more eloquent.  Yet these men I could not but love and admire,
+that they returned to their studies.  They left not diligence (as
+many do) when their rashness prospered; for diligence is a great
+aid, even to an indifferent wit; when we are not contented with the
+examples of our own age, but would know the face of the former.
+Indeed, the more we confer with the more we profit by, if the
+persons be chosen.
+
+Dominus Verulamius.--One, though he be excellent and the chief, is
+not to be imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his
+author; likeness is always on this side truth.  Yet there happened
+in my time one noble speaker who was full of gravity in his
+speaking; his language (where he could spare or pass by a jest) was
+nobly censorious.  No man ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more
+weightily, or suffered less emptiness, less idleness, in what he
+uttered.  No member of his speech but consisted of his own graces.
+His hearers could not cough, or look aside from him, without loss.
+He commanded where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at
+his devotion.  No man had their affections more in his power.  The
+fear of every man that heard him was lest he should make an end.
+
+Scriptorum catalogus. {59a}  Cicero is said to be the only wit that
+the people of Rome had equalled to their empire.  Ingenium par
+imperio.  We have had many, and in their several ages (to take in
+but the former seculum) Sir Thomas More, the elder Wiat, Henry Earl
+of Surrey, Chaloner, Smith, Eliot, B. Gardiner, were for their times
+admirable; and the more, because they began eloquence with us.  Sir
+Nicolas Bacon was singular, and almost alone, in the beginning of
+Queen Elizabeth's time.  Sir Philip Sidney and Mr. Hooker (in
+different matter) grew great masters of wit and language, and in
+whom all vigour of invention and strength of judgment met.  The Earl
+of Essex, noble and high; and Sir Walter Raleigh, not to be
+contemned, either for judgment or style.  Sir Henry Savile, grave,
+and truly lettered; Sir Edwin Sandys, excellent in both; Lord
+Egerton, the Chancellor, a grave and great orator, and best when he
+was provoked; but his learned and able (though unfortunate)
+successor is he who hath filled up all numbers, and performed that
+in our tongue which may be compared or preferred either to insolent
+Greece or haughty Rome.  In short, within his view, and about his
+times, were all the wits born that could honour a language or help
+study.  Now things daily fall, wits grow downward, and eloquence
+grows backward; so that he may be named and stand as the mark and
+[Greek text] of our language.
+
+De augmentis scientiarum.--Julius Caesar.--Lord St. Alban.--I have
+ever observed it to have been the office of a wise patriot, among
+the greatest affairs of the State, to take care of the commonwealth
+of learning.  For schools, they are the seminaries of State; and
+nothing is worthier the study of a statesman than that part of the
+republic which we call the advancement of letters.  Witness the care
+of Julius Caesar, who, in the heat of the civil war, writ his books
+of Analogy, and dedicated them to Tully.  This made the late Lord
+St. Alban entitle his work Novum Organum; which, though by the most
+of superficial men, who cannot get beyond the title of nominals, it
+is not penetrated nor understood, it really openeth all defects of
+learning whatsoever, and is a book
+
+
+"Qui longum note scriptori proroget aevum." {62a}
+
+
+My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place
+or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that
+was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his
+work, one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that
+had been in many ages.  In his adversity I ever prayed that God
+would give him strength; for greatness he could not want.  Neither
+could I condole in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no
+accident could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it
+manifest.
+
+De corruptela morum.--There cannot be one colour of the mind,
+another of the wit.  If the mind be staid, grave, and composed, the
+wit is so; that vitiated, the other is blown and deflowered.  Do we
+not see, if the mind languish, the members are dull?  Look upon an
+effeminate person, his very gait confesseth him.  If a man be fiery,
+his motion is so; if angry, it is troubled and violent.  So that we
+may conclude wheresoever manners and fashions are corrupted,
+language is.  It imitates the public riot.  The excess of feasts and
+apparel are the notes of a sick state, and the wantonness of
+language of a sick mind.
+
+De rebus mundanis.--If we would consider what our affairs are
+indeed, not what they are called, we should find more evils
+belonging to us than happen to us.  How often doth that which was
+called a calamity prove the beginning and cause of a man's
+happiness? and, on the contrary, that which happened or came to
+another with great gratulation and applause, how it hath lifted him
+but a step higher to his ruin? as if he stood before where he might
+fall safely.
+
+Vulgi mores.--Morbus comitialis.--The vulgar are commonly ill-
+natured, and always grudging against their governors:  which makes
+that a prince has more business and trouble with them than ever
+Hercules had with the bull or any other beast; by how much they have
+more heads than will be reined with one bridle.  There was not that
+variety of beasts in the ark, as is of beastly natures in the
+multitude; especially when they come to that iniquity to censure
+their sovereign's actions.  Then all the counsels are made good or
+bad by the events; and it falleth out that the same facts receive
+from them the names, now of diligence, now of vanity, now of
+majesty, now of fury; where they ought wholly to hang on his mouth,
+as he to consist of himself, and not others' counsels.
+
+Princeps.--After God, nothing is to be loved of man like the prince;
+he violates Nature that doth it not with his whole heart.  For when
+he hath put on the care of the public good and common safety, I am a
+wretch, and put off man, if I do not reverence and honour him, in
+whose charge all things divine and human are placed.  Do but ask of
+Nature why all living creatures are less delighted with meat and
+drink that sustains them than with venery that wastes them? and she
+will tell thee, the first respects but a private, the other a common
+good, propagation.
+
+De eodem.--Orpheus' Hymn.--He is the arbiter of life and death:
+when he finds no other subject for his mercy, he should spare
+himself.  All his punishments are rather to correct than to destroy.
+Why are prayers with Orpheus said to be the daughters of Jupiter,
+but that princes are thereby admonished that the petitions of the
+wretched ought to have more weight with them than the laws
+themselves.
+
+De opt. Rege Jacobo.--It was a great accumulation to His Majesty's
+deserved praise that men might openly visit and pity those whom his
+greatest prisons had at any time received or his laws condemned.
+
+De Princ. adjunctis.--Sed vere prudens haud concipi possit Princeps,
+nisi simul et bonus.--Lycurgus.--Sylla.--Lysander.--Cyrus.--Wise is
+rather the attribute of a prince than learned or good.  The learned
+man profits others rather than himself; the good man rather himself
+than others; but the prince commands others, and doth himself.
+
+The wise Lycurgus gave no law but what himself kept.  Sylla and
+Lysander did not so; the one living extremely dissolute himself,
+enforced frugality by the laws; the other permitted those licenses
+to others which himself abstained from.  But the prince's prudence
+is his chief art and safety.  In his counsels and deliberations he
+foresees the future times:  in the equity of his judgment he hath
+remembrance of the past, and knowledge of what is to be done or
+avoided for the present.  Hence the Persians gave out their Cyrus to
+have been nursed by a bitch, a creature to encounter it, as of
+sagacity to seek out good; showing that wisdom may accompany
+fortitude, or it leaves to be, and puts on the name of rashness.
+
+De malign. studentium.--There be some men are born only to suck out
+the poison of books:  Habent venenum pro victu; imo, pro deliciis.
+{66a}  And such are they that only relish the obscene and foul
+things in poets, which makes the profession taxed.  But by whom?
+Men that watch for it; and, had they not had this hint, are so
+unjust valuers of letters as they think no learning good but what
+brings in gain.  It shows they themselves would never have been of
+the professions they are but for the profits and fees.  But if
+another learning, well used, can instruct to good life, inform
+manners, no less persuade and lead men than they threaten and
+compel, and have no reward, is it therefore the worst study?  I
+could never think the study of wisdom confined only to the
+philosopher, or of piety to the divine, or of state to the politic;
+but that he which can feign a commonwealth (which is the poet) can
+govern it with counsels, strengthen it with laws, correct it with
+judgments, inform it with religion and morals, is all these.  We do
+not require in him mere elocution, or an excellent faculty in verse,
+but the exact knowledge of all virtues and their contraries, with
+ability to render the one loved, the other hated, by his proper
+embattling them.  The philosophers did insolently, to challenge only
+to themselves that which the greatest generals and gravest
+counsellors never durst.  For such had rather do than promise the
+best things.
+
+Controvers. scriptores.--More Andabatarum qui clausis oculis
+pugnant.--Some controverters in divinity are like swaggerers in a
+tavern that catch that which stands next them, the candlestick or
+pots; turn everything into a weapon:  ofttimes they fight blindfold,
+and both beat the air.  The one milks a he-goat, the other holds
+under a sieve.  Their arguments are as fluxive as liquor spilt upon
+a table, which with your finger you may drain as you will.  Such
+controversies or disputations (carried with more labour than profit)
+are odious; where most times the truth is lost in the midst or left
+untouched.  And the fruit of their fight is, that they spit one upon
+another, and are both defiled.  These fencers in religion I like
+not.
+
+Morbi.--The body hath certain diseases that are with less evil
+tolerated than removed.  As if to cure a leprosy a man should bathe
+himself with the warm blood of a murdered child, so in the Church
+some errors may be dissimuled with less inconvenience than they can
+be discovered.
+
+Jactantia intempestiva.--Men that talk of their own benefits are not
+believed to talk of them because they have done them; but to have
+done them because they might talk of them.  That which had been
+great, if another had reported it of them, vanisheth, and is
+nothing, if he that did it speak of it.  For men, when they cannot
+destroy the deed, will yet be glad to take advantage of the
+boasting, and lessen it.
+
+Adulatio.--I have seen that poverty makes me do unfit things; but
+honest men should not do them; they should gain otherwise.  Though a
+man be hungry, he should not play the parasite.  That hour wherein I
+would repent me to be honest, there were ways enough open for me to
+be rich.  But flattery is a fine pick-lock of tender ears;
+especially of those whom fortune hath borne high upon their wings,
+that submit their dignity and authority to it, by a soothing of
+themselves.  For, indeed, men could never be taken in that abundance
+with the springes of others' flattery, if they began not there; if
+they did but remember how much more profitable the bitterness of
+truth were, than all the honey distilling from a whorish voice,
+which is not praise, but poison.  But now it is come to that extreme
+folly, or rather madness, with some, that he that flatters them
+modestly or sparingly is thought to malign them.  If their friend
+consent not to their vices, though he do not contradict them, he is
+nevertheless an enemy.  When they do all things the worst way, even
+then they look for praise.  Nay, they will hire fellows to flatter
+them with suits and suppers, and to prostitute their judgments.
+They have livery-friends, friends of the dish, and of the spit, that
+wait their turns, as my lord has his feasts and guests.
+
+De vita humana.--I have considered our whole life is like a play:
+wherein every man forgetful of himself, is in travail with
+expression of another.  Nay, we so insist in imitating others, as we
+cannot when it is necessary return to ourselves; like children, that
+imitate the vices of stammerers so long, till at last they become
+such; and make the habit to another nature, as it is never
+forgotten.
+
+De piis et probis.--Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages
+wherein they live and illustrate the times.  God did never let them
+be wanting to the world:  as Abel, for an example of innocency,
+Enoch of purity, Noah of trust in God's mercies, Abraham of faith,
+and so of the rest.  These, sensual men thought mad because they
+would not be partakers or practisers of their madness.  But they,
+placed high on the top of all virtue, looked down on the stage of
+the world and contemned the play of fortune.  For though the most be
+players, some must be spectators.
+
+Mores aulici.--I have discovered that a feigned familiarity in great
+ones is a note of certain usurpation on the less.  For great and
+popular men feign themselves to be servants to others to make those
+slaves to them.  So the fisher provides bait for the trout, roach,
+dace, &c., that they may be food to him.
+
+Impiorum querela.--Augusties.--Varus.--Tiberius.--The complaint of
+Caligula was most wicked of the condition of his times, when he said
+they were not famous for any public calamity, as the reign of
+Augustus was, by the defeat of Varus and the legions; and that of
+Tiberius, by the falling of the theatre at Fidenae; whilst his
+oblivion was eminent through the prosperity of his affairs.  As that
+other voice of his was worthier a headsman than a head when he
+wished the people of Rome had but one neck.  But he found when he
+fell they had many hands.  A tyrant, how great and mighty soever he
+may seem to cowards and sluggards, is but one creature, one animal.
+
+Nobilium ingenia.--I have marked among the nobility some are so
+addicted to the service of the prince and commonwealth, as they look
+not for spoil; such are to be honoured and loved.  There are others
+which no obligation will fasten on; and they are of two sorts.  The
+first are such as love their own ease; or, out of vice, of nature,
+or self-direction, avoid business and care.  Yet these the prince
+may use with safety.  The other remove themselves upon craft and
+design, as the architects say, with a premeditated thought, to their
+own rather than their prince's profit.  Such let the prince take
+heed of, and not doubt to reckon in the list of his open enemies.
+
+Principum. varia.--Firmissima vero omnium basis jus haereditarium
+Principis.--There is a great variation between him that is raised to
+the sovereignty by the favour of his peers and him that comes to it
+by the suffrage of the people.  The first holds with more
+difficulty, because he hath to do with many that think themselves
+his equals, and raised him for their own greatness and oppression of
+the rest.  The latter hath no upbraiders, but was raised by them
+that sought to be defended from oppression:  whose end is both
+easier and the honester to satisfy.  Beside, while he hath the
+people to friend, who are a multitude, he hath the less fear of the
+nobility, who are but few.  Nor let the common proverb (of he that
+builds on the people builds on the dirt) discredit my opinion:  for
+that hath only place where an ambitious and private person, for some
+popular end, trusts in them against the public justice and
+magistrate.  There they will leave him.  But when a prince governs
+them, so as they have still need of his administrations (for that is
+his art), he shall ever make and hold them faithful.
+
+Clementia.--Machiavell.--A prince should exercise his cruelty not by
+himself but by his ministers; so he may save himself and his dignity
+with his people by sacrificing those when he list, saith the great
+doctor of state, Machiavell.  But I say he puts off man and goes
+into a beast, that is cruel.  No virtue is a prince's own, or
+becomes him more, than this clemency:  and no glory is greater than
+to be able to save with his power.  Many punishments sometimes, and
+in some cases, as much discredit a prince, as many funerals a
+physician.  The state of things is secured by clemency; severity
+represseth a few, but irritates more. {74a}  The lopping of trees
+makes the boughs shoot out thicker; and the taking away of some kind
+of enemies increaseth the number.  It is then most gracious in a
+prince to pardon when many about him would make him cruel; to think
+then how much he can save when others tell him how much he can
+destroy; not to consider what the impotence of others hath
+demolished, but what his own greatness can sustain.  These are a
+prince's virtues:  and they that give him other counsels are but the
+hangman's factors.
+
+Clementia tutela optima.--He that is cruel to halves (saith the said
+St. Nicholas {74b}) loseth no less the opportunity of his cruelty
+than of his benefits:  for then to use his cruelty is too late; and
+to use his favours will be interpreted fear and necessity, and so he
+loseth the thanks.  Still the counsel is cruelty.  But princes, by
+hearkening to cruel counsels, become in time obnoxious to the
+authors, their flatterers, and ministers; and are brought to that,
+that when they would, they dare not change them; they must go on and
+defend cruelty with cruelty; they cannot alter the habit.  It is
+then grown necessary, they must be as ill as those have made them:
+and in the end they will grow more hateful to themselves than to
+their subjects.  Whereas, on the contrary, the merciful prince is
+safe in love, not in fear.  He needs no emissaries, spies,
+intelligencers to entrap true subjects.  He fears no libels, no
+treasons.  His people speak what they think, and talk openly what
+they do in secret.  They have nothing in their breasts that they
+need a cypher for.  He is guarded with his own benefits.
+
+Religio.  Palladium Homeri.--Euripides.--The strength of empire is
+in religion.  What else is the Palladium (with Homer) that kept Troy
+so long from sacking?  Nothing more commends the Sovereign to the
+subject than it.  For he that is religious must be merciful and just
+necessarily:  and they are two strong ties upon mankind.  Justice
+the virtue that innocence rejoiceth in.  Yet even that is not always
+so safe, but it may love to stand in the sight of mercy.  For
+sometimes misfortune is made a crime, and then innocence is
+succoured no less than virtue.  Nay, oftentimes virtue is made
+capital; and through the condition of the times it may happen that
+that may be punished with our praise.  Let no man therefore murmur
+at the actions of the prince, who is placed so far above him.  If he
+offend, he hath his discoverer.  God hath a height beyond him.  But
+where the prince is good, Euripides saith, "God is a guest in a
+human body."
+
+Tyranni.--Sejanus.--There is nothing with some princes sacred above
+their majesty, or profane, but what violates their sceptres.  But a
+prince, with such a council, is like the god Terminus, of stone, his
+own landmark, or (as it is in the fable) a crowned lion.  It is
+dangerous offending such a one, who, being angry, knows not how to
+forgive; that cares not to do anything for maintaining or enlarging
+of empire; kills not men or subjects, but destroyeth whole
+countries, armies, mankind, male and female, guilty or not guilty,
+holy or profane; yea, some that have not seen the light.  All is
+under the law of their spoil and licence.  But princes that neglect
+their proper office thus their fortune is oftentimes to draw a
+Sejanus to be near about them, who at last affect to get above them,
+and put them in a worthy fear of rooting both them out and their
+family.  For no men hate an evil prince more than they that helped
+to make him such.  And none more boastingly weep his ruin than they
+that procured and practised it.  The same path leads to ruin which
+did to rule when men profess a licence in government.  A good king
+is a public servant.
+
+Illiteratus princeps.--A prince without letters is a pilot without
+eyes.  All his government is groping.  In sovereignty it is a most
+happy thing not to be compelled; but so it is the most miserable not
+to be counselled.  And how can he be counselled that cannot see to
+read the best counsellors (which are books), for they neither
+flatter us nor hide from us?  He may hear, you will say; but how
+shall he always be sure to hear truth, or be counselled the best
+things, not the sweetest?  They say princes learn no art truly but
+the art of horsemanship.  The reason is the brave beast is no
+flatterer.  He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.  Which is
+an argument that the good counsellors to princes are the best
+instruments of a good age.  For though the prince himself be of a
+most prompt inclination to all virtue, yet the best pilots have
+needs of mariners besides sails, anchor, and other tackle.
+
+Character principis.--Alexander magnus.--If men did know what
+shining fetters, gilded miseries, and painted happiness thrones and
+sceptres were there would not be so frequent strife about the
+getting or holding of them; there would be more principalities than
+princes; for a prince is the pastor of the people.  He ought to
+shear, not to flay his sheep; to take their fleeces, not their the
+soul of the commonwealth, and ought to cherish it as his own body.
+Alexander the Great was wont to say, "He hated that gardener that
+plucked his herbs or flowers up by the roots."  A man may milk a
+beast till the blood come; churn milk and it yieldeth butter, but
+wring the nose and the blood followeth.  He is an ill prince that so
+pulls his subjects' feathers as he would not have them grow again;
+that makes his exchequer a receipt for the spoils of those he
+governs.  No, let him keep his own, not affect his subjects'; strive
+rather to be called just than powerful.  Not, like the Roman
+tyrants, affect the surnames that grow by human slaughters; neither
+to seek war in peace, nor peace in war, but to observe faith given,
+though to an enemy.  Study piety toward the subject; show care to
+defend him.  Be slow to punish in divers cases, but be a sharp and
+severe revenger of open crimes.  Break no decrees or dissolve no
+orders to slacken the strength of laws.  Choose neither magistrates,
+civil or ecclesiastical, by favour or price; but with long
+disquisition and report of their worth by all suffrages.  Sell no
+honours, nor give them hastily, but bestow them with counsel and for
+reward; if he do, acknowledge it (though late), and mend it.  For
+princes are easy to be deceived; and what wisdom can escape where so
+many court-arts are studied?  But, above all, the prince is to
+remember that when the great day of account comes, which neither
+magistrate nor prince can shun, there will be required of him a
+reckoning for those whom he hath trusted, as for himself, which he
+must provide.  And if piety be wanting in the priests, equity in the
+judges, or the magistrates be found rated at a price, what justice
+or religion is to be expected? which are the only two attributes
+make kings akin to God, and is the Delphic sword, both to kill
+sacrifices and to chastise offenders.
+
+De gratiosis.--When a virtuous man is raised, it brings gladness to
+his friends, grief to his enemies, and glory to his posterity.  Nay,
+his honours are a great part of the honour of the times; when by
+this means he is grown to active men an example, to the slothful a
+spur, to the envious a punishment.
+
+Divites.--Heredes ex asse.  He which is sole heir to many rich men,
+having (besides his father's and uncle's) the estates of divers his
+kindred come to him by accession, must needs be richer than father
+or grandfather; so they which are left heirs ex asse of all their
+ancestors' vices, and by their good husbandry improve the old and
+daily purchase new, must needs be wealthier in vice, and have a
+greater revenue or stock of ill to spend on.
+
+Fures publici.--The great thieves of a state are lightly the
+officers of the crown; they hang the less still, play the pikes in
+the pond, eat whom they list.  The net was never spread for the hawk
+or buzzard that hurt us, but the harmless birds; they are good
+meat:-
+
+
+"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas." {81a}
+"Non rete accipitri tenditur, neque milvio." {81b}
+
+
+Lewis XI.--But they are not always safe though, especially when they
+meet with wise masters.  They can take down all the huff and
+swelling of their looks, and like dexterous auditors place the
+counter where he shall value nothing.  Let them but remember Lewis
+XI., who to a Clerk of the Exchequer that came to be Lord Treasurer,
+and had (for his device) represented himself sitting on fortune's
+wheel, told him he might do well to fasten it with a good strong
+nail, lest, turning about, it might bring him where he was again.
+As indeed it did.
+
+De bonis et malis.--De innocentia.--A good man will avoid the spot
+of any sin.  The very aspersion is grievous, which makes him choose
+his way in his life as he would in his journey.  The ill man rides
+through all confidently; he is coated and booted for it.  The
+oftener he offends, the more openly, and the fouler, the fitter in
+fashion.  His modesty, like a riding-coat, the more it is worn is
+the less cared for.  It is good enough for the dirt still, and the
+ways he travels in.  An innocent man needs no eloquence, his
+innocence is instead of it, else I had never come off so many times
+from these precipices, whither men's malice hath pursued me.  It is
+true I have been accused to the lords, to the king, and by great
+ones, but it happened my accusers had not thought of the accusation
+with themselves, and so were driven, for want of crimes, to use
+invention, which was found slander, or too late (being entered so
+fair) to seek starting-holes for their rashness, which were not
+given them.  And then they may think what accusation that was like
+to prove, when they that were the engineers feared to be the
+authors.  Nor were they content to feign things against me, but to
+urge things, feigned by the ignorant, against my profession, which
+though, from their hired and mercenary impudence, I might have
+passed by as granted to a nation of barkers that let out their
+tongues to lick others' sores; yet I durst not leave myself
+undefended, having a pair of ears unskilful to hear lies, or have
+those things said of me which I could truly prove of them.  They
+objected making of verses to me, when I could object to most of
+them, their not being able to read them, but as worthy of scorn.
+Nay, they would offer to urge mine own writings against me, but by
+pieces (which was an excellent way of malice), as if any man's
+context might not seem dangerous and offensive, if that which was
+knit to what went before were defrauded of his beginning; or that
+things by themselves uttered might not seem subject to calumny,
+which read entire would appear most free.  At last they upbraided my
+poverty:  I confess she is my domestic; sober of diet, simple of
+habit, frugal, painful, a good counseller to me, that keeps me from
+cruelty, pride, or other more delicate impertinences, which are the
+nurse-children of riches.  But let them look over all the great and
+monstrous wickednesses, they shall never find those in poor
+families.  They are the issue of the wealthy giants and the mighty
+hunters, whereas no great work, or worthy of praise or memory, but
+came out of poor cradles.  It was the ancient poverty that founded
+commonweals, built cities, invented arts, made wholesome laws, armed
+men against vices, rewarded them with their own virtues, and
+preserved the honour and state of nations, till they betrayed
+themselves to riches.
+
+Amor nummi.--Money never made any man rich, but his mind.  He that
+can order himself to the law of Nature is not only without the sense
+but the fear of poverty.  O! but to strike blind the people with our
+wealth and pomp is the thing!  What a wretchedness is this, to
+thrust all our riches outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate
+nothing but the little, vile, and sordid things of the world; not
+the great, noble, and precious!  We serve our avarice, and, not
+content with the good of the earth that is offered us, we search and
+dig for the evil that is hidden.  God offered us those things, and
+placed them at hand, and near us, that He knew were profitable for
+us, but the hurtful He laid deep and hid.  Yet do we seek only the
+things whereby we may perish, and bring them forth, when God and
+Nature hath buried them.  We covet superfluous things, when it were
+more honour for us if we would contemn necessary.  What need hath
+Nature of silver dishes, multitudes of waiters, delicate pages,
+perfumed napkins?  She requires meat only, and hunger is not
+ambitious.  Can we think no wealth enough but such a state for which
+a man may be brought into a premunire, begged, proscribed, or
+poisoned?  O! if a man could restrain the fury of his gullet and
+groin, and think how many fires, how many kitchens, cooks, pastures,
+and ploughed lands; what orchards, stews, ponds and parks, coops and
+garners, he could spare; what velvets, tissues, embroideries, laces,
+he could lack; and then how short and uncertain his life is; he were
+in a better way to happiness than to live the emperor of these
+delights, and be the dictator of fashions; but we make ourselves
+slaves to our pleasures, and we serve fame and ambition, which is an
+equal slavery.  Have not I seen the pomp of a whole kingdom, and
+what a foreign king could bring hither?  Also to make himself gazed
+and wondered at--laid forth, as it were, to the show--and vanish all
+away in a day?  And shall that which could not fill the expectation
+of few hours, entertain and take up our whole lives, when even it
+appeared as superfluous to the possessors as to me that was a
+spectator?  The bravery was shown, it was not possessed; while it
+boasted itself it perished.  It is vile, and a poor thing to place
+our happiness on these desires.  Say we wanted them all.  Famine
+ends famine.
+
+De mollibus et effoeminatis.--There is nothing valiant or solid to
+be hoped for from such as are always kempt and perfumed, and every
+day smell of the tailor; the exceedingly curious that are wholly in
+mending such an imperfection in the face, in taking away the morphew
+in the neck, or bleaching their hands at midnight, gumming and
+bridling their beards, or making the waist small, binding it with
+hoops, while the mind runs at waste; too much pickedness is not
+manly.  Not from those that will jest at their own outward
+imperfections, but hide their ulcers within, their pride, lust,
+envy, ill-nature, with all the art and authority they can.  These
+persons are in danger, for whilst they think to justify their
+ignorance by impudence, and their persons by clothes and outward
+ornaments, they use but a commission to deceive themselves:  where,
+if we will look with our understanding, and not our senses, we may
+behold virtue and beauty (though covered with rags) in their
+brightness; and vice and deformity so much the fouler, in having all
+the splendour of riches to gild them, or the false light of honour
+and power to help them.  Yet this is that wherewith the world is
+taken, and runs mad to gaze on--clothes and titles, the birdlime of
+fools.
+
+De stultitia.--What petty things they are we wonder at, like
+children that esteem every trifle, and prefer a fairing before their
+fathers!  What difference is between us and them but that we are
+dearer fools, coxcombs at a higher rate?  They are pleased with
+cockleshells, whistles, hobby-horses, and such like; we with
+statues, marble pillars, pictures, gilded roofs, where underneath is
+lath and lime, perhaps loam.  Yet we take pleasure in the lie, and
+are glad we can cozen ourselves.  Nor is it only in our walls and
+ceilings, but all that we call happiness is mere painting and gilt,
+and all for money.  What a thin membrane of honour that is! and how
+hath all true reputation fallen, since money began to have any!  Yet
+the great herd, the multitude, that in all other things are divided,
+in this alone conspire and agree--to love money.  They wish for it,
+they embrace it, they adore it, while yet it is possessed with
+greater stir and torment than it is gotten.
+
+De sibi molestis.--Some men what losses soever they have they make
+them greater, and if they have none, even all that is not gotten is
+a loss.  Can there be creatures of more wretched condition than
+these, that continually labour under their own misery and others'
+envy?  A man should study other things, not to covet, not to fear,
+not to repent him; to make his base such as no tempest shall shake
+him; to be secure of all opinion, and pleasing to himself, even for
+that wherein he displeaseth others; for the worst opinion gotten for
+doing well, should delight us.  Wouldst not thou be just but for
+fame, thou oughtest to be it with infamy; he that would have his
+virtue published is not the servant of virtue, but glory.
+
+Periculosa melancholia.--It is a dangerous thing when men's minds
+come to sojourn with their affections, and their diseases eat into
+their strength; that when too much desire and greediness of vice
+hath made the body unfit, or unprofitable, it is yet gladded with
+the sight and spectacle of it in others; and for want of ability to
+be an actor, is content to be a witness.  It enjoys the pleasure of
+sinning in beholding others sin, as in dining, drinking, drabbing,
+&c.  Nay, when it cannot do all these, it is offended with his own
+narrowness, that excludes it from the universal delights of mankind,
+and oftentimes dies of a melancholy, that it cannot be vicious
+enough.
+
+Falsae species fugiendae.--I am glad when I see any man avoid the
+infamy of a vice; but to shun the vice itself were better.  Till he
+do that he is but like the 'pientice, who, being loth to be spied by
+his master coming forth of Black Lucy's, went in again; to whom his
+master cried, "The more thou runnest that way to hide thyself, the
+more thou art in the place."  So are those that keep a tavern all
+day, that they may not be seen at night.  I have known lawyers,
+divines--yea, great ones--of this heresy.
+
+Decipimur specie.--There is a greater reverence had of things remote
+or strange to us than of much better if they be nearer and fall
+under our sense.  Men, and almost all sorts of creatures, have their
+reputation by distance.  Rivers, the farther they run, and more from
+their spring, the broader they are, and greater.  And where our
+original is known, we are less the confident; among strangers we
+trust fortune.  Yet a man may live as renowned at home, in his own
+country, or a private village, as in the whole world.  For it is
+virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a man everywhere.  It
+is only that can naturalise him.  A native, if he be vicious,
+deserves to be a stranger, and cast out of the commonwealth as an
+alien.
+
+Dejectio Aulic.--A dejected countenance and mean clothes beget often
+a contempt, but it is with the shallowest creatures; courtiers
+commonly:  look up even with them in a new suit, you get above them
+straight.  Nothing is more short-lived than pride; it is but while
+their clothes last:  stay but while these are worn out, you cannot
+wish the thing more wretched or dejected.
+
+Poesis, et pictura.--Plutarch.  Poetry and picture are arts of a
+like nature, and both are busy about imitation.  It was excellently
+said of Plutarch, poetry was a speaking picture, and picture a mute
+poesy.  For they both invent, feign and devise many things, and
+accommodate all they invent to the use and service of Nature.  Yet
+of the two, the pen is more noble than the pencil; for that can
+speak to the understanding, the other but to the sense.  They both
+behold pleasure and profit as their common object; but should
+abstain from all base pleasures, lest they should err from their
+end, and, while they seek to better men's minds, destroy their
+manners.  They both are born artificers, not made.  Nature is more
+powerful in them than study.
+
+De pictura.--Whosoever loves not picture is injurious to truth and
+all the wisdom of poetry.  Picture is the invention of heaven, the
+most ancient and most akin to Nature.  It is itself a silent work,
+and always of one and the same habit; yet it doth so enter and
+penetrate the inmost affection (being done by an excellent
+artificer) as sometimes it overcomes the power of speech and
+oratory.  There are divers graces in it, so are there in the
+artificers.  One excels in care, another in reason, a third in
+easiness, a fourth in nature and grace.  Some have diligence and
+comeliness, but they want majesty.  They can express a human form in
+all the graces, sweetness, and elegancy, but, they miss the
+authority.  They can hit nothing but smooth cheeks; they cannot
+express roughness or gravity.  Others aspire to truth so much as
+they are rather lovers of likeness than beauty.  Zeuxis and
+Parrhasius are said to be contemporaries; the first found out the
+reason of lights and shadows in picture, the other more subtlely
+examined the line.
+
+De stylo.--Pliny.--In picture light is required no less than shadow;
+so in style, height as well as humbleness.  But beware they be not
+too humble, as Pliny pronounced of Regulus's writings.  You would
+think them written, not on a child, but by a child.  Many, out of
+their own obscene apprehensions, refuse proper and fit words--as
+occupy, Nature, and the like; so the curious industry in some, of
+having all alike good, hath come nearer a vice than a virtue.
+
+De progres. picturae. {93}  Picture took her feigning from poetry;
+from geometry her rule, compass, lines, proportion, and the whole
+symmetry.  Parrhasius was the first won reputation by adding
+symmetry to picture; he added subtlety to the countenance, elegancy
+to the hair, love-lines to the face, and by the public voice of all
+artificers, deserved honour in the outer lines.  Eupompus gave it
+splendour by numbers and other elegancies.  From the optics it drew
+reasons, by which it considered how things placed at distance and
+afar off should appear less; how above or beneath the head should
+deceive the eye, &c.  So from thence it took shadows, recessor,
+light, and heightnings.  From moral philosophy it took the soul, the
+expression of senses, perturbations, manners, when they would paint
+an angry person, a proud, an inconstant, an ambitious, a brave, a
+magnanimous, a just, a merciful, a compassionate, an humble, a
+dejected, a base, and the like; they made all heightnings bright,
+all shadows dark, all swellings from a plane, all solids from
+breaking.  See where he complains of their painting Chimaeras {94}
+(by the vulgar unaptly called grotesque) saying that men who were
+born truly to study and emulate Nature did nothing but make monsters
+against Nature, which Horace so laughed at. {95} The art plastic was
+moulding in clay, or potter's earth anciently.  This is the parent
+of statuary, sculpture, graving, and picture; cutting in brass and
+marble, all serve under her.  Socrates taught Parrhasius and Clito
+(two noble statuaries) first to express manners by their looks in
+imagery.  Polygnotus and Aglaophon were ancienter.  After them
+Zeuxis, who was the lawgiver to all painters; after, Parrhasius.
+They were contemporaries, and lived both about Philip's time, the
+father of Alexander the Great.  There lived in this latter age six
+famous painters in Italy, who were excellent and emulous of the
+ancients--Raphael de Urbino, Michael Angelo Buonarotti, Titian,
+Antony of Correggio, Sebastian of Venice, Julio Romano, and Andrea
+Sartorio.
+
+Parasiti ad mensam.--These are flatterers for their bread, that
+praise all my oraculous lord does or says, be it true or false;
+invent tales that shall please; make baits for his lordship's ears;
+and if they be not received in what they offer at, they shift a
+point of the compass, and turn their tale, presently tack about,
+deny what they confessed, and confess what they denied; fit their
+discourse to the persons and occasions.  What they snatch up and
+devour at one table, utter at another; and grow suspected of the
+master, hated of the servants, while they inquire, and reprehend,
+and compound, and dilate business of the house they have nothing to
+do with.  They praise my lord's wine and the sauce he likes; observe
+the cook and bottle-man; while they stand in my lord's favour, speak
+for a pension for them, but pound them to dust upon my lord's least
+distaste, or change of his palate.
+
+How much better is it to be silent, or at least to speak sparingly!
+for it is not enough to speak good, but timely things.  If a man be
+asked a question, to answer; but to repeat the question before he
+answer is well, that he be sure to understand it, to avoid
+absurdity; for it is less dishonour to hear imperfectly than to
+speak imperfectly.  The ears are excused, the understanding is not.
+And in things unknown to a man, not to give his opinion, lest by the
+affectation of knowing too much he lose the credit he hath, by
+speaking or knowing the wrong way what he utters.  Nor seek to get
+his patron's favour by embarking himself in the factions of the
+family, to inquire after domestic simulties, their sports or
+affections.  They are an odious and vile kind of creatures, that fly
+about the house all day, and picking up the filth of the house like
+pies or swallows, carry it to their nest (the lord's ears), and
+oftentimes report the lies they have feigned for what they have seen
+and heard,
+
+Imo serviles.--These are called instruments of grace and power with
+great persons, but they are indeed the organs of their impotency,
+and marks of weakness.  For sufficient lords are able to make these
+discoveries themselves.  Neither will an honourable person inquire
+who eats and drinks together, what that man plays, whom this man
+loves, with whom such a one walks, what discourse they hold, who
+sleeps with whom.  They are base and servile natures that busy
+themselves about these disquisitions.  How often have I seen (and
+worthily) these censors of the family undertaken by some honest
+rustic and cudgelled thriftily!  These are commonly the off-scouring
+and dregs of men that do these things, or calumniate others; yet I
+know not truly which is worse--he that maligns all, or that praises
+all.  There is as a vice in praising, and as frequent, as in
+detracting.
+
+It pleased your lordship of late to ask my opinion touching the
+education of your sons, and especially to the advancement of their
+studies.  To which, though I returned somewhat for the present,
+which rather manifested a will in me than gave any just resolution
+to the thing propounded, I have upon better cogitation called those
+aids about me, both of mind and memory, which shall venture my
+thoughts clearer, if not fuller, to your lordship's demand.  I
+confess, my lord, they will seem but petty and minute things I shall
+offer to you, being writ for children, and of them.  But studies
+have their infancy as well as creatures.  We see in men even the
+strongest compositions had their beginnings from milk and the
+cradle; and the wisest tarried sometimes about apting their mouths
+to letters and syllables.  In their education, therefore, the care
+must be the greater had of their beginnings, to know, examine, and
+weigh their natures; which, though they be proner in some children
+to some disciplines, yet are they naturally prompt to taste all by
+degrees, and with change.  For change is a kind of refreshing in
+studies, and infuseth knowledge by way of recreation.  Thence the
+school itself is called a play or game, and all letters are so best
+taught to scholars.  They should not be affrighted or deterred in
+their entry, but drawn on with exercise and emulation.  A youth
+should not be made to hate study before he know the causes to love
+it, or taste the bitterness before the sweet; but called on and
+allured, entreated and praised--yea, when he deserves it not.  For
+which cause I wish them sent to the best school, and a public, which
+I think the best.  Your lordship, I fear, hardly hears of that, as
+willing to breed them in your eye and at home, and doubting their
+manners may be corrupted abroad.  They are in more danger in your
+own family, among ill servants (allowing they be safe in their
+schoolmaster), than amongst a thousand boys, however immodest.
+Would we did not spoil our own children, and overthrow their manners
+ourselves by too much indulgence!  To breed them at home is to breed
+them in a shade, whereas in a school they have the light and heat of
+the sun.  They are used and accustomed to things and men.  When they
+come forth into the common-wealth, they find nothing new, or to
+seek.  They have made their friendships and aids, some to last their
+age.  They hear what is commanded to others as well as themselves;
+much approved, much corrected; all which they bring to their own
+store and use, and learn as much as they hear.  Eloquence would be
+but a poor thing if we should only converse with singulars, speak
+but man and man together.  Therefore I like no private breeding.  I
+would send them where their industry should be daily increased by
+praise, and that kindled by emulation.  It is a good thing to
+inflame the mind; and though ambition itself be a vice, it is often
+the cause of great virtue.  Give me that wit whom praise excites,
+glory puts on, or disgrace grieves; he is to be nourished with
+ambition, pricked forward with honour, checked with reprehension,
+and never to be suspected of sloth.  Though he be given to play, it
+is a sign of spirit and liveliness, so there be a mean had of their
+sports and relaxations.  And from the rod or ferule I would have
+them free, as from the menace of them; for it is both deformed and
+servile.
+
+De stylo, et optimo scribendi genere.--For a man to write well,
+there are required three necessaries--to read the best authors,
+observe the best speakers, and much exercise of his own style; in
+style to consider what ought to be written, and after what manner.
+He must first think and excogitate his matter, then choose his
+words, and examine the weight of either.  Then take care, in placing
+and ranking both matter and words, that the composition be comely;
+and to do this with diligence and often.  No matter how slow the
+style be at first, so it be laboured and accurate; seek the best,
+and be not glad of the froward conceits, or first words, that offer
+themselves to us; but judge of what we invent, and order what we
+approve.  Repeat often what we have formerly written; which beside
+that it helps the consequence, and makes the juncture better, it
+quickens the heat of imagination, that often cools in the time of
+setting down, and gives it new strength, as if it grew lustier by
+the going back; as we see in the contention of leaping, they jump
+farthest that fetch their race largest; or, as in throwing a dart or
+javelin, we force back our arms to make our loose the stronger.
+Yet, if we have a fair gale of wind, I forbid not the steering out
+of our sail, so the favour of the gale deceive us not.  For all that
+we invent doth please us in conception of birth, else we would never
+set it down.  But the safest is to return to our judgment, and
+handle over again those things the easiness of which might make them
+justly suspected.  So did the best writers in their beginnings; they
+imposed upon themselves care and industry; they did nothing rashly:
+they obtained first to write well, and then custom made it easy and
+a habit.  By little and little their matter showed itself to them
+more plentifully; their words answered, their composition followed;
+and all, as in a well-ordered family, presented itself in the place.
+So that the sum of all is, ready writing makes not good writing, but
+good writing brings on ready writing yet, when we think we have got
+the faculty, it is even then good to resist it, as to give a horse a
+check sometimes with a bit, which doth not so much stop his course
+as stir his mettle.  Again, whether a man's genius is best able to
+reach thither, it should more and more contend, lift and dilate
+itself, as men of low stature raise themselves on their toes, and so
+ofttimes get even, if not eminent.  Besides, as it is fit for grown
+and able writers to stand of themselves, and work with their own
+strength, to trust and endeavour by their own faculties, so it is
+fit for the beginner and learner to study others and the best.  For
+the mind and memory are more sharply exercised in comprehending
+another man's things than our own; and such as accustom themselves
+and are familiar with the best authors shall ever and anon find
+somewhat of them in themselves, and in the expression of their
+minds, even when they feel it not, be able to utter something like
+theirs, which hath an authority above their own.  Nay, sometimes it
+is the reward of a man's study, the praise of quoting another man
+fitly; and though a man be more prone and able for one kind of
+writing than another, yet he must exercise all.  For as in an
+instrument, so in style, there must be a harmony and consent of
+parts.
+
+Praecipiendi modi.--I take this labour in teaching others, that they
+should not be always to be taught, and I would bring my precepts
+into practice, for rules are ever of less force and value than
+experiments; yet with this purpose, rather to show the right way to
+those that come after, than to detect any that have slipped before
+by error, and I hope it will be more profitable.  For men do more
+willingly listen, and with more favour, to precept, than
+reprehension.  Among divers opinions of an art, and most of them
+contrary in themselves, it is hard to make election; and, therefore,
+though a man cannot invent new things after so many, he may do a
+welcome work yet to help posterity to judge rightly of the old.  But
+arts and precepts avail nothing, except Nature be beneficial and
+aiding.  And therefore these things are no more written to a dull
+disposition, than rules of husbandry to a soil.  No precepts will
+profit a fool, no more than beauty will the blind, or music the
+deaf.  As we should take care that our style in writing be neither
+dry nor empty, we should look again it be not winding, or wanton
+with far-fetched descriptions; either is a vice.  But that is worse
+which proceeds out of want, than that which riots out of plenty.
+The remedy of fruitfulness is easy, but no labour will help the
+contrary; I will like and praise some things in a young writer which
+yet, if he continue in, I cannot but justly hate him for the same.
+There is a time to be given all things for maturity, and that even
+your country husband-man can teach, who to a young plant will not
+put the pruning-knife, because it seems to fear the iron, as not
+able to admit the scar.  No more would I tell a green writer all his
+faults, lest I should make him grieve and faint, and at last
+despair; for nothing doth more hurt than to make him so afraid of
+all things as he can endeavour nothing.  Therefore youth ought to be
+instructed betimes, and in the best things; for we hold those
+longest we take soonest, as the first scent of a vessel lasts, and
+the tint the wool first receives; therefore a master should temper
+his own powers, and descend to the other's infirmity.  If you pour a
+glut of water upon a bottle, it receives little of it; but with a
+funnel, and by degrees, you shall fill many of them, and spill
+little of your own; to their capacity they will all receive and be
+full.  And as it is fit to read the best authors to youth first, so
+let them be of the openest and clearest. {106a}  As Livy before
+Sallust, Sidney before Donne; and beware of letting them taste Gower
+or Chaucer at first, lest, falling too much in love with antiquity,
+and not apprehending the weight, they grow rough and barren in
+language only.  When their judgments are firm, and out of danger,
+let them read both the old and the new; but no less take heed that
+their new flowers and sweetness do not as much corrupt as the
+others' dryness and squalor, if they choose not carefully.  Spenser,
+in affecting the ancients, writ no language; yet I would have him
+read for his matter, but as Virgil read Ennius.  The reading of
+Homer and Virgil is counselled by Quintilian as the best way of
+informing youth and confirming man.  For, besides that the mind is
+raised with the height and sublimity of such a verse, it takes
+spirit from the greatness of the matter, and is tinctured with the
+best things.  Tragic and lyric poetry is good, too, and comic with
+the best, if the manners of the reader be once in safety.  In the
+Greek poets, as also in Plautus, we shall see the economy and
+disposition of poems better observed than in Terence; and the
+latter, who thought the sole grace and virtue of their fable the
+sticking in of sentences, as ours do the forcing in of jests.
+
+Fals. querel. fugiend. Platonis peregrinatio in Italiam.--We should
+not protect our sloth with the patronage of difficulty.  It is a
+false quarrel against Nature, that she helps understanding but in a
+few, when the most part of mankind are inclined by her thither, if
+they would take the pains; no less than birds to fly, horses to run,
+&c., which if they lose, it is through their own sluggishness, and
+by that means become her prodigies, not her children.  I confess,
+Nature in children is more patient of labour in study than in age;
+for the sense of the pain, the judgment of the labour is absent;
+they do not measure what they have done.  And it is the thought and
+consideration that affects us more than the weariness itself.  Plato
+was not content with the learning that Athens could give him, but
+sailed into Italy, for Pythagoras' knowledge:  and yet not thinking
+himself sufficiently informed, went into Egypt, to the priests, and
+learned their mysteries.  He laboured, so must we.  Many things may
+be learned together, and performed in one point of time; as
+musicians exercise their memory, their voice, their fingers, and
+sometimes their head and feet at once.  And so a preacher, in the
+invention of matter, election of words, composition of gesture,
+look, pronunciation, motion, useth all these faculties at once:  and
+if we can express this variety together, why should not divers
+studies, at divers hours, delight, when the variety is able alone to
+refresh and repair us?  As, when a man is weary of writing, to read;
+and then again of reading, to write.  Wherein, howsoever we do many
+things, yet are we (in a sort) still fresh to what we begin; we are
+recreated with change, as the stomach is with meats.  But some will
+say this variety breeds confusion, and makes, that either we lose
+all, or hold no more than the last.  Why do we not then persuade
+husbandmen that they should not till land, help it with marl, lime,
+and compost? plant hop-gardens, prune trees, look to bee-hives, rear
+sheep, and all other cattle at once?  It is easier to do many things
+and continue, than to do one thing long.
+
+Praecept. element.--It is not the passing through these learnings
+that hurts us, but the dwelling and sticking about them.  To descend
+to those extreme anxieties and foolish cavils of grammarians, is
+able to break a wit in pieces, being a work of manifold misery and
+vainness, to be elementarii senes.  Yet even letters are, as it
+were, the bank of words, and restore themselves to an author as the
+pawns of language:  but talking and eloquence are not the same:  to
+speak, and to speak well, are two things.  A fool may talk, but a
+wise man speaks; and out of the observation, knowledge, and the use
+of things, many writers perplex their readers and hearers with mere
+nonsense.  Their writings need sunshine.  Pure and neat language I
+love, yet plain and customary.  A barbarous phrase has often made me
+out of love with a good sense, and doubtful writing hath wracked me
+beyond my patience.  The reason why a poet is said that he ought to
+have all knowledges is, that he should not be ignorant of the most,
+especially of those he will handle.  And indeed, when the attaining
+of them is possible, it were a sluggish and base thing to despair;
+for frequent imitation of anything becomes a habit quickly.  If a
+man should prosecute as much as could be said of everything, his
+work would find no end.
+
+De orationis dignitate.  [Greek text].--Metaphora.  Speech is the
+only benefit man hath to express his excellency of mind above other
+creatures.  It is the instrument of society; therefore Mercury, who
+is the president of language, is called deorum hominumque interpres.
+{110a}  In all speech, words and sense are as the body and the soul.
+The sense is as the life and soul of language, without which all
+words are dead.  Sense is wrought out of experience, the knowledge
+of human life and actions, or of the liberal arts, which the Greeks
+called [Greek text].  Words are the people's, yet there is a choice
+of them to be made; for verborum delectus origo est eloquentiae.
+{111a}  They are to be chosen according to the persons we make
+speak, or the things we speak of.  Some are of the camp, some of the
+council-board, some of the shop, some of the sheepcote, some of the
+pulpit, some of the Bar, &c.  And herein is seen their elegance and
+propriety, when we use them fitly and draw them forth to their just
+strength and nature by way of translation or metaphor.  But in this
+translation we must only serve necessity (nam temere nihil
+transfertur a prudenti) {111b} or commodity, which is a kind of
+necessity:  that is, when we either absolutely want a word to
+express by, and that is necessity; or when we have not so fit a
+word, and that is commodity; as when we avoid loss by it, and escape
+obsceneness, and gain in the grace and property which helps
+significance.  Metaphors far-fetched hinder to be understood; and
+affected, lose their grace.  Or when the person fetcheth his
+translations from a wrong place as if a privy councillor should at
+the table take his metaphor from a dicing-house, or ordinary, or a
+vintner's vault; or a justice of peace draw his similitudes from the
+mathematics, or a divine from a bawdy house, or taverns; or a
+gentleman of Northamptonshire, Warwickshire, or the Midland, should
+fetch all the illustrations to his country neighbours from shipping,
+and tell them of the main-sheet and the bowline.  Metaphors are thus
+many times deformed, as in him that said, Castratam morte Africani
+rempublicam; and another, Stercus curiae Glauciam, and Cana nive
+conspuit Alpes.  All attempts that are new in this kind, are
+dangerous, and somewhat hard, before they be softened with use.  A
+man coins not a new word without some peril and less fruit; for if
+it happen to be received, the praise is but moderate; if refused,
+the scorn is assured.  Yet we must adventure; for things at first
+hard and rough are by use made tender and gentle.  It is an honest
+error that is committed, following great chiefs.
+
+Consuetudo.--Perspicuitas, Venustas.--Authoritas.--Virgil.--
+Lucretius.--Chaucerism.--Paronomasia.--Custom is the most certain
+mistress of language, as the public stamp makes the current money.
+But we must not be too frequent with the mint, every day coining,
+nor fetch words from the extreme and utmost ages; since the chief
+virtue of a style is perspicuity, and nothing so vicious in it as to
+need an interpreter.  Words borrowed of antiquity do lend a kind of
+majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes; for
+they have the authority of years, and out of their intermission do
+win themselves a kind of grace like newness.  But the eldest of the
+present, and newness of the past language, is the best.  For what
+was the ancient language, which some men so dote upon, but the
+ancient custom?  Yet when I name custom, I understand not the vulgar
+custom; for that were a precept no less dangerous to language than
+life, if we should speak or live after the manners of the vulgar:
+but that I call custom of speech, which is the consent of the
+learned; as custom of life, which is the consent of the good.
+Virgil was most loving of antiquity; yet how rarely doth he insert
+aquai and pictai!  Lucretius is scabrous and rough in these; he
+seeks them:  as some do Chaucerisms with us, which were better
+expunged and banished.  Some words are to be culled out for ornament
+and colour, as we gather flowers to strew houses or make garlands;
+but they are better when they grow to our style; as in a meadow,
+where, though the mere grass and greenness delight, yet the variety
+of flowers doth heighten and beautify.  Marry, we must not play or
+riot too much with them, as in Paronomasies; nor use too swelling or
+ill-sounding words!  Quae per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt. {114a}
+It is true, there is no sound but shall find some lovers, as the
+bitterest confections are grateful to some palates.  Our composition
+must be more accurate in the beginning and end than in the midst,
+and in the end more than in the beginning; for through the midst the
+stream bears us.  And this is attained by custom, more than care of
+diligence.  We must express readily and fully, not profusely.  There
+is difference between a liberal and prodigal hand.  As it is a great
+point of art, when our matter requires it, to enlarge and veer out
+all sail, so to take it in and contract it, is of no less praise,
+when the argument doth ask it.  Either of them hath their fitness in
+the place.  A good man always profits by his endeavour, by his help,
+yea, when he is absent; nay, when he is dead, by his example and
+memory.  So good authors in their style:  a strict and succinct
+style is that where you can take away nothing without loss, and that
+loss to be manifest.
+
+De Stylo.--Tracitus.--The Laconic.--Suetonius.--Seneca and
+Fabianus.--The brief style is that which expresseth much in little;
+the concise style, which expresseth not enough, but leaves somewhat
+to be understood; the abrupt style, which hath many breaches, and
+doth not seem to end, but fall.  The congruent and harmonious
+fitting of parts in a sentence hath almost the fastening and force
+of knitting and connection; as in stones well squared, which will
+rise strong a great way without mortar.
+
+Periodi.--Obscuritas offundit tenebras.--Superlatio.--Periods are
+beautiful when they are not too long; for so they have their
+strength too, as in a pike or javelin.  As we must take the care
+that our words and sense be clear, so if the obscurity happen
+through the hearer's or reader's want of understanding, I am not to
+answer for them, no more than for their not listening or marking; I
+must neither find them ears nor mind.  But a man cannot put a word
+so in sense but something about it will illustrate it, if the writer
+understand himself; for order helps much to perspicuity, as
+confusion hurts.  (Rectitudo lucem adfert; obliquitas et
+circumductio offuscat. {116a})  We should therefore speak what we
+can the nearest way, so as we keep our gait, not leap; for too short
+may as well be not let into the memory, as too long not kept in.
+Whatsoever loseth the grace and clearness, converts into a riddle;
+the obscurity is marked, but not the value.  That perisheth, and is
+passed by, like the pearl in the fable.  Our style should be like a
+skein of silk, to be carried and found by the right thread, not
+ravelled and perplexed; then all is a knot, a heap.  There are words
+that do as much raise a style as others can depress it.  Superlation
+and over-muchness amplifies; it may be above faith, but never above
+a mean.  It was ridiculous in Cestius, when he said of Alexander:
+
+
+"Fremit oceanus, quasi indignetur, quod terras relinquas." {117a}
+
+
+But propitiously from Virgil:
+
+
+"Credas innare revulsas
+Cycladas." {117b}
+
+
+He doth not say it was so, but seemed to be so.  Although it be
+somewhat incredible, that is excused before it be spoken.  But there
+are hyperboles which will become one language, that will by no means
+admit another.  As Eos esse P. R. exercitus, qui caelum possint
+perrumpere, {118a} who would say with us, but a madman?  Therefore
+we must consider in every tongue what is used, what received.
+Quintilian warns us, that in no kind of translation, or metaphor, or
+allegory, we make a turn from what we began; as if we fetch the
+original of our metaphor from sea and billows, we end not in flames
+and ashes:  it is a most foul inconsequence.  Neither must we draw
+out our allegory too long, lest either we make ourselves obscure, or
+fall into affectation, which is childish.  But why do men depart at
+all from the right and natural ways of speaking? sometimes for
+necessity, when we are driven, or think it fitter, to speak that in
+obscure words, or by circumstance, which uttered plainly would
+offend the hearers.  Or to avoid obsceneness, or sometimes for
+pleasure, and variety, as travellers turn out of the highway, drawn
+either by the commodity of a footpath, or the delicacy or freshness
+of the fields.  And all this is called [Greek text] or figured
+language.
+
+Oratio imago animi.--Language most shows a man:  Speak, that I may
+see thee.  It springs out of the most retired and inmost parts of
+us, and is the image of the parent of it, the mind.  No glass
+renders a man's form or likeness so true as his speech.  Nay, it is
+likened to a man; and as we consider feature and composition in a
+man, so words in language; in the greatness, aptness, sound
+structure, and harmony of it.
+
+Structura et statura, sublimis, humilis, pumila.--Some men are tall
+and big, so some language is high and great.  Then the words are
+chosen, their sound ample, the composition full, the absolution
+plenteous, and poured out, all grave, sinewy, and strong.  Some are
+little and dwarfs; so of speech, it is humble and low, the words
+poor and flat, the members and periods thin and weak, without
+knitting or number.
+
+Mediocris plana et placida.--The middle are of a just stature.
+There the language is plain and pleasing; even without stopping,
+round without swelling:  all well-turned, composed, elegant, and
+accurate.
+
+Vitiosa oratio, vasta--tumens--enormis--affectata--abjecta.--The
+vicious language is vast and gaping, swelling and irregular:  when
+it contends to be high, full of rock, mountain, and pointedness; as
+it affects to be low, it is abject, and creeps, full of bogs and
+holes.  And according to their subject these styles vary, and lose
+their names:  for that which is high and lofty, declaring excellent
+matter, becomes vast and tumorous, speaking of petty and inferior
+things; so that which was even and apt in a mean and plain subject,
+will appear most poor and humble in a high argument.  Would you not
+laugh to meet a great councillor of State in a flat cap, with his
+trunk hose, and a hobbyhorse cloak, his gloves under his girdle, and
+yond haberdasher in a velvet gown, furred with sables?  There is a
+certain latitude in these things, by which we find the degrees.
+
+Figura.--The next thing to the stature, is the figure and feature in
+language--that is, whether it be round and straight, which consists
+of short and succinct periods, numerous and polished; or square and
+firm, which is to have equal and strong parts everywhere answerable,
+and weighed.
+
+Cutis sive cortex.  Compositio.--The third is the skin and coat,
+which rests in the well-joining, cementing, and coagmentation of
+words; whenas it is smooth, gentle, and sweet, like a table upon
+which you may run your finger without rubs, and your nail cannot
+find a joint; not horrid, rough, wrinkled, gaping, or chapped:
+after these, the flesh, blood, and bones come in question.
+
+Carnosa--adipata--redundans.--We say it is a fleshy style, when
+there is much periphrasis, and circuit of words; and when with more
+than enough, it grows fat and corpulent:  arvina orationis, full of
+suet and tallow.  It hath blood and juice when the words are proper
+and apt, their sound sweet, and the phrase neat and picked--oratio
+uncta, et bene pasta.  But where there is redundancy, both the blood
+and juice are faulty and vicious:- Redundat sanguine, quia multo
+plus dicit, quam necesse est.  Juice in language is somewhat less
+than blood; for if the words be but becoming and signifying, and the
+sense gentle, there is juice; but where that wanteth, the language
+is thin, flagging, poor, starved, scarce covering the bone, and
+shows like stones in a sack.
+
+Jejuna, macilenta, strigosa.--Ossea, et nervosa.--Some men, to avoid
+redundancy, run into that; and while they strive to have no ill
+blood or juice, they lose their good.  There be some styles, again,
+that have not less blood, but less flesh and corpulence.  These are
+bony and sinewy; Ossa habent, et nervos.
+
+Notae domini Sti. Albani de doctrin. intemper.--Dictator.--
+Aristoteles.--It was well noted by the late Lord St. Albans, that
+the study of words is the first distemper of learning; vain matter
+the second; and a third distemper is deceit, or the likeness of
+truth:  imposture held up by credulity.  All these are the cobwebs
+of learning, and to let them grow in us is either sluttish or
+foolish.  Nothing is more ridiculous than to make an author a
+dictator, as the schools have done Aristotle.  The damage is
+infinite knowledge receives by it; for to many things a man should
+owe but a temporary belief, and suspension of his own judgment, not
+an absolute resignation of himself, or a perpetual captivity.  Let
+Aristotle and others have their dues; but if we can make farther
+discoveries of truth and fitness than they, why are we envied?  Let
+us beware, while we strive to add, we do not diminish or deface; we
+may improve, but not augment.  By discrediting falsehood, truth
+grows in request.  We must not go about, like men anguished and
+perplexed, for vicious affectation of praise, but calmly study the
+separation of opinions, find the errors have intervened, awake
+antiquity, call former times into question; but make no parties with
+the present, nor follow any fierce undertakers, mingle no matter of
+doubtful credit with the simplicity of truth, but gently stir the
+mould about the root of the question, and avoid all digladiations,
+facility of credit, or superstitious simplicity, seek the consonancy
+and concatenation of truth; stoop only to point of necessity, and
+what leads to convenience.  Then make exact animadversion where
+style hath degenerated, where flourished and thrived in choiceness
+of phrase, round and clean composition of sentence, sweet falling of
+the clause, varying an illustration by tropes and figures, weight of
+matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of invention,
+and depth of judgment.  This is monte potiri, to get the hill; for
+no perfect discovery can be made upon a flat or a level.
+
+De optimo scriptore.--Cicero.--Now that I have informed you in the
+knowing of these things, let me lead you by the hand a little
+farther, in the direction of the use, and make you an able writer by
+practice.  The conceits of the mind are pictures of things, and the
+tongue is the interpreter of those pictures.  The order of God's
+creatures in themselves is not only admirable and glorious, but
+eloquent:  then he who could apprehend the consequence of things in
+their truth, and utter his apprehensions as truly, were the best
+writer or speaker.  Therefore Cicero said much, when he said, Dicere
+recte nemo potest, nisi qui prudenter intelligit. {124a}  The shame
+of speaking unskilfully were small if the tongue only thereby were
+disgraced; but as the image of a king in his seal ill-represented is
+not so much a blemish to the wax, or the signet that sealed it, as
+to the prince it representeth, so disordered speech is not so much
+injury to the lips that give it forth, as to the disproportion and
+incoherence of things in themselves, so negligently expressed.
+Neither can his mind be thought to be in tune, whose words do jar;
+nor his reason in frame, whose sentence is preposterous; nor his
+elocution clear and perfect, whose utterance breaks itself into
+fragments and uncertainties.  Were it not a dishonour to a mighty
+prince, to have the majesty of his embassage spoiled by a careless
+ambassador? and is it not as great an indignity, that an excellent
+conceit and capacity, by the indiligence of an idle tongue, should
+be disgraced?  Negligent speech doth not only discredit the person
+of the speaker, but it discrediteth the opinion of his reason and
+judgment; it discrediteth the force and uniformity of the matter and
+substance.  If it be so then in words, which fly and escape censure,
+and where one good phrase begs pardon for many incongruities and
+faults, how shall he then be thought wise whose penning is thin and
+shallow? how shall you look for wit from him whose leisure and head,
+assisted with the examination of his eyes, yield you no life or
+sharpness in his writing?
+
+De stylo epistolari.--Inventio.--In writing there is to be regarded
+the invention and the fashion.  For the invention, that ariseth upon
+your business, whereof there can be no rules of more certainty, or
+precepts of better direction given, than conjecture can lay down
+from the several occasions of men's particular lives and vocations:
+but sometimes men make baseness of kindness:  As "I could not
+satisfy myself till I had discharged my remembrance, and charged my
+letters with commendation to you;" or, "My business is no other than
+to testify my love to you, and to put you in mind of my willingness
+to do you all kind offices;" or, "Sir, have you leisure to descend
+to the remembering of that assurance you have long possessed in your
+servant, and upon your next opportunity make him happy with some
+commands from you?" or the like; that go a-begging for some meaning,
+and labour to be delivered of the great burden of nothing.  When you
+have invented, and that your business be matter, and not bare form,
+or mere ceremony, but some earnest, then are you to proceed to the
+ordering of it, and digesting the parts, which is had out of two
+circumstances.  One is the understanding of the persons to whom you
+are to write; the other is the coherence of your sentence; for men's
+capacity to weigh what will be apprehended with greatest attention
+or leisure; what next regarded and longed for especially, and what
+last will leave satisfaction, and (as it were) the sweetest memorial
+and belief of all that is passed in his understanding whom you write
+to.  For the consequence of sentences, you must be sure that every
+clause do give the cue one to the other, and be bespoken ere it
+come.  So much for invention and order.
+
+Modus.--1.  Brevitas.--Now for fashion:  it consists in four things,
+which are qualities of your style.  The first is brevity; for they
+must not be treatises or discourses (your letters) except it be to
+learned men.  And even among them there is a kind of thrift and
+saving of words.  Therefore you are to examine the clearest passages
+of your understanding, and through them to convey the sweetest and
+most significant words you can devise, that you may the easier teach
+them the readiest way to another man's apprehension, and open their
+meaning fully, roundly, and distinctly, so as the reader may not
+think a second view cast away upon your letter.  And though respect
+be a part following this, yet now here, and still I must remember
+it, if you write to a man, whose estate and sense, as senses, you
+are familiar with, you may the bolder (to set a task to his brain)
+venture on a knot.  But if to your superior, you are bound to
+measure him in three farther points:  first, with interest in him;
+secondly, his capacity in your letters; thirdly, his leisure to
+peruse them.  For your interest or favour with him, you are to be
+the shorter or longer, more familiar or submiss, as he will afford
+you time.  For his capacity, you are to be quicker and fuller of
+those reaches and glances of wit or learning, as he is able to
+entertain them.  For his leisure, you are commanded to the greater
+briefness, as his place is of greater discharges and cares.  But
+with your betters, you are not to put riddles of wit, by being too
+scarce of words; not to cause the trouble of making breviates by
+writing too riotous and wastingly.  Brevity is attained in matter by
+avoiding idle compliments, prefaces, protestations, parentheses,
+superfluous circuit of figures and digressions:  in the composition,
+by omitting conjunctions [not only, but also; both the one and the
+other, whereby it cometh to pass] and such like idle particles, that
+have no great business in a serious letter but breaking of
+sentences, as oftentimes a short journey is made long by unnessary
+baits.
+
+Quintilian.--But, as Quintilian saith, there is a briefness of the
+parts sometimes that makes the whole long:  "As I came to the
+stairs, I took a pair of oars, they launched out, rowed apace, I
+landed at the court gate, I paid my fare, went up to the presence,
+asked for my lord, I was admitted."  All this is but, "I went to the
+court and spake with my lord."  This is the fault of some Latin
+writers within these last hundred years of my reading, and perhaps
+Seneca may be appeached of it; I accuse him not.
+
+2.  Perspicuitas.--The next property of epistolary style is
+perspicuity, and is oftentimes by affectation of some wit ill angled
+for, or ostentation of some hidden terms of art.  Few words they
+darken speech, and so do too many; as well too much light hurteth
+the eyes, as too little; and a long bill of chancery confounds the
+understanding as much as the shortest note; therefore, let not your
+letters be penned like English statutes, and this is obtained.
+These vices are eschewed by pondering your business well and
+distinctly concerning yourself, which is much furthered by uttering
+your thoughts, and letting them as well come forth to the light and
+judgment of your own outward senses as to the censure of other men's
+ears; for that is the reason why many good scholars speak but
+fumblingly; like a rich man, that for want of particular note and
+difference can bring you no certain ware readily out of his shop.
+Hence it is that talkative shallow men do often content the hearers
+more than the wise.  But this may find a speedier redress in
+writing, where all comes under the last examination of the eyes.
+First, mind it well, then pen it, then examine it, then amend it,
+and you may be in the better hope of doing reasonably well.  Under
+this virtue may come plainness, which is not to be curious in the
+order as to answer a letter, as if you were to answer to
+interrogatories.  As to the first, first; and to the second,
+secondly, &c. but both in method to use (as ladies do in their
+attire) a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive freedom;
+though with some men you are not to jest, or practise tricks; yet
+the delivery of the most important things may be carried with such a
+grace, as that it may yield a pleasure to the conceit of the reader.
+There must be store, though no excess of terms; as if you are to
+name store, sometimes you may call it choice, sometimes plenty,
+sometimes copiousness, or variety; but ever so, that the word which
+comes in lieu have not such difference of meaning as that it may put
+the sense of the first in hazard to be mistaken.  You are not to
+cast a ring for the perfumed terms of the time, as accommodation,
+complement, spirit &c., but use them properly in their place, as
+others.
+
+3.  Vigor--There followeth life and quickness, which is the strength
+and sinews, as it were, of your penning by pretty sayings,
+similitudes, and conceits; allusions from known history, or other
+common-place, such as are in the Courtier, and the second book of
+Cicero De Oratore.
+
+4.  Discretio.--The last is, respect to discern what fits yourself,
+him to whom you write, and that which you handle, which is a quality
+fit to conclude the rest, because it doth include all.  And that
+must proceed from ripeness of judgment, which, as one truly saith,
+is gotten by four means, God, nature, diligence, and conversation.
+Serve the first well, and the rest will serve you.
+
+De Poetica.--We have spoken sufficiently of oratory, let us now make
+a diversion to poetry.  Poetry, in the primogeniture, had many
+peccant humours, and is made to have more now, through the levity
+and inconstancy of men's judgments.  Whereas, indeed, it is the most
+prevailing eloquence, and of the most exalted caract.  Now the
+discredits and disgraces are many it hath received through men's
+study of depravation or calumny; their practice being to give it
+diminution of credit, by lessening the professor's estimation, and
+making the age afraid of their liberty; and the age is grown so
+tender of her fame, as she calls all writings aspersions.
+
+That is the state word, the phrase of court (placentia college),
+which some call Parasites place, the Inn of Ignorance.
+
+D. Hieronymus.--Whilst I name no persons, but deride follies, why
+should any man confess or betray himself why doth not that of S.
+Hierome come into their mind, Ubi generalis est de vitiis
+disputatio, ibi nullius esse personae injuriam? {133a}  Is it such
+an inexpiable crime in poets to tax vices generally, and no offence
+in them, who, by their exception confess they have committed them
+particularly?  Are we fallen into those times that we must not -
+
+
+"Auriculas teneras mordaci rodere vero." {133b}
+
+
+Remedii votum semper verius erat, quam spes. {133c}--Sexus faemin.--
+If men may by no means write freely, or speak truth, but when it
+offends not, why do physicians cure with sharp medicines, or
+corrosives? is not the same equally lawful in the cure of the mind
+that is in the cure of the body?  Some vices, you will say, are so
+foul that it is better they should be done than spoken.  But they
+that take offence where no name, character, or signature doth blazon
+them seem to me like affected as women, who if they hear anything
+ill spoken of the ill of their sex, are presently moved, as if the
+contumely respected their particular; and on the contrary, when they
+hear good of good women, conclude that it belongs to them all.  If I
+see anything that toucheth me, shall I come forth a betrayer of
+myself presently?  No, if I be wise, I'll dissemble it; if honest,
+I'll avoid it, lest I publish that on my own forehead which I saw
+there noted without a title.  A man that is on the mending hand will
+either ingenuously confess or wisely dissemble his disease.  And the
+wise and virtuous will never think anything belongs to themselves
+that is written, but rejoice that the good are warned not to be
+such; and the ill to leave to be such.  The person offended hath no
+reason to be offended with the writer, but with himself; and so to
+declare that properly to belong to him which was so spoken of all
+men, as it could be no man's several, but his that would wilfully
+and desperately claim it.  It sufficeth I know what kind of persons
+I displease, men bred in the declining and decay of virtue,
+betrothed to their own vices; that have abandoned or prostituted
+their good names; hungry and ambitious of infamy, invested in all
+deformity, enthralled to ignorance and malice, of a hidden and
+concealed malignity, and that hold a concomitancy with all evil.
+
+
+What is a Poet?
+
+
+Poeta.--A poet is that which by the Greeks is called [Greek text], a
+maker, or a feigner:  his art, an art of imitation or feigning;
+expressing the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony,
+according to Aristotle; from the word [Greek text], which signifies
+to make or feign.  Hence he is called a poet, not he which writeth
+in measure only, but that feigneth and formeth a fable, and writes
+things like the truth.  For the fable and fiction is, as it were,
+the form and soul of any poetical work or poem.
+
+
+What mean, you by a Poem?
+
+
+Poema.--A poem is not alone any work or composition of the poet's in
+many or few verses; but even one verse alone sometimes makes a
+perfect poem.  As when AEneas hangs up and consecrates the arms of
+Abas with this inscription:-
+
+
+"AEneas haec de Danais victoribus arma." {136a}
+
+
+And calls it a poem or carmen.  Such are those in Martial:-
+
+
+"Omnia, Castor, emis:  sic fiet, ut omnia vendas." {136b}
+
+
+And -
+
+
+"Pauper videri Cinna vult, et est pauper." {136c}
+
+
+Horatius.--Lucretius.--So were Horace's odes called Carmina, his
+lyric songs.  And Lucretius designs a whole book in his sixth:-
+
+
+"Quod in primo quoque carmine claret." {136d}
+
+
+Epicum.--Dramaticum.--Lyricum.--Elegiacum.--Epigrammat.--And
+anciently all the oracles were called Carmina; or whatever sentence
+was expressed, were it much or little, it was called an Epic,
+Dramatic, Lyric, Elegiac, or Epigrammatic poem.
+
+
+But how differs a Poem from what we call Poesy?
+
+
+Poesis.--Artium regina.--Poet. differentiae.--Grammatic.--Logic.--
+Rhetoric.--Ethica.--A poem, as I have told you, is the work of the
+poet; the end and fruit of his labour and study.  Poesy is his skill
+or craft of making; the very fiction itself, the reason or form of
+the work.  And these three voices differ, as the thing done, the
+doing, and the doer; the thing feigned, the feigning, and the
+feigner; so the poem, the poesy, and the poet.  Now the poesy is the
+habit or the art; nay, rather the queen of arts, which had her
+original from heaven, received thence from the Hebrews, and had in
+prime estimation with the Greeks transmitted to the Latins and all
+nations that professed civility.  The study of it (if we will trust
+Aristotle) offers to mankind a certain rule and pattern of living
+well and happily, disposing us to all civil offices of society.  If
+we will believe Tully, it nourisheth and instructeth our youth,
+delights our age, adorns our prosperity, comforts our adversity,
+entertains us at home, keeps us company abroad, travels with us,
+watches, divides the times of our earnest and sports, shares in our
+country recesses and recreations; insomuch as the wisest and best
+learned have thought her the absolute mistress of manners and
+nearest of kin to virtue.  And whereas they entitle philosophy to be
+a rigid and austere poesy, they have, on the contrary, styled poesy
+a dulcet and gentle philosophy, which leads on and guides us by the
+hand to action with a ravishing delight and incredible sweetness.
+But before we handle the kinds of poems, with their special
+differences, or make court to the art itself, as a mistress, I would
+lead you to the knowledge of our poet by a perfect information what
+he is or should be by nature, by exercise, by imitation, by study,
+and so bring him down through the disciplines of grammar, logic,
+rhetoric, and the ethics, adding somewhat out of all, peculiar to
+himself, and worthy of your admittance or reception.
+
+1.  Ingenium.--Seneca.--Plato.--Aristotle.--Helicon.--Pegasus.--
+Parnassus.--Ovid.--First, we require in our poet or maker (for that
+title our language affords him elegantly with the Greek) a goodness
+of natural wit.  For whereas all other arts consist of doctrine and
+precepts, the poet must be able by nature and instinct to pour out
+the treasure of his mind, and as Seneca saith, Aliquando secundum
+Anacreontem insanire jucundum esse; by which he understands the
+poetical rapture.  And according to that of Plato, Frustra poeticas
+fores sui compos pulsavit.  And of Aristotle, Nullum magnum ingenium
+sine mixtura dementiae fuit.  Nec potest grande aliquid, et supra
+caeteros loqui, nisi mota mens.  Then it riseth higher, as by a
+divine instinct, when it contemns common and known conceptions.  It
+utters somewhat above a mortal mouth.  Then it gets aloft and flies
+away with his rider, whither before it was doubtful to ascend.  This
+the poets understood by their Helicon, Pegasus, or Parnassus; and
+this made Ovid to boast,
+
+
+"Est deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo
+Sedibus aethereis spiritus ille venit." {139a}
+
+
+Lipsius.--Petron. in. Fragm.--And Lipsius to affirm, Scio, poetam
+neminem praestantem fuisse, sine parte quadam uberiore divinae
+aurae.  And hence it is that the coming up of good poets (for I mind
+not mediocres or imos) is so thin and rare among us.  Every beggarly
+corporation affords the State a mayor or two bailiffs yearly; but
+Solus rex, aut poeta, non quotannis nascitur.  To this perfection of
+nature in our poet we require exercise of those parts, and frequent.
+
+2.  Exercitatio.--Virgil.--Scaliger.--Valer. Maximus.--Euripides.--
+Alcestis.--If his wit will not arrive suddenly at the dignity of the
+ancients, let him not yet fall out with it, quarrel, or be over
+hastily angry; offer to turn it away from study in a humour, but
+come to it again upon better cogitation; try another time with
+labour.  If then it succeed not, cast not away the quills yet, nor
+scratch the wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring all to the
+forge and file again; torn it anew.  There is no statute law of the
+kingdom bids you be a poet against your will or the first quarter;
+if it comes in a year or two, it is well.  The common rhymers pour
+forth verses, such as they are, ex tempore; but there never comes
+from them one sense worth the life of a day.  A rhymer and a poet
+are two things.  It is said of the incomparable Virgil that he
+brought forth his verses like a bear, and after formed them with
+licking.  Scaliger the father writes it of him, that he made a
+quantity of verses in the morning, which afore night he reduced to a
+less number.  But that which Valerius Maximus hath left recorded of
+Euripides, the tragic poet, his answer to Alcestis, another poet, is
+as memorable as modest; who, when it was told to Alcestis that
+Euripides had in three days brought forth but three verses, and
+those with some difficulty and throes, Alcestis, glorying he could
+with ease have sent forth a hundred in the space, Euripides roundly
+replied, "Like enough; but here is the difference:  thy verses will
+not last these three days, mine will to all time."  Which was as
+much as to tell him he could not write a verse.  I have met many of
+these rattles that made a noise and buzzed.  They had their hum, and
+no more.  Indeed, things wrote with labour deserve to be so read,
+and will last their age.
+
+3.  Imitatio.--Horatius.--Virgil.--Statius.--Homer.--Horat.--
+Archil.--Alcaeus, &c.--The third requisite in our poet or maker is
+imitation, to be able to convert the substance or riches of another
+poet to his own use.  To make choice of one excellent man above the
+rest, and so to follow him till he grow very he, or so like him as
+the copy may be mistaken for the principal.  Not as a creature that
+swallows what it takes in crude, raw, or undigested, but that feeds
+with an appetite, and hath a stomach to concoct, divide, and turn
+all into nourishment.  Not to imitate servilely, as Horace saith,
+and catch at vices for virtue, but to draw forth out of the best and
+choicest flowers, with the bee, and turn all into honey, work it
+into one relish and savour; make our imitation sweet; observe how
+the best writers have imitated, and follow them.  How Virgil and
+Statius have imitated Homer; how Horace, Archilochus; how Alcaeus,
+and the other lyrics; and so of the rest.
+
+4.  Lectio.--Parnassus.--Helicon.--Arscoron.--M. T. Cicero.--
+Simylus.--Stob.--Horat.--Aristot.--But that which we especially
+require in him is an exactness of study and multiplicity of reading,
+which maketh a full man, not alone enabling him to know the history
+or argument of a poem and to report it, but so to master the matter
+and style, as to show he knows how to handle, place, or dispose of
+either with elegancy when need shall be.  And not think he can leap
+forth suddenly a poet by dreaming he hath been in Parnassus, or
+having washed his lips, as they say, in Helicon.  There goes more to
+his making than so; for to nature, exercise, imitation, and study
+art must be added to make all these perfect.  And though these
+challenge to themselves much in the making up of our maker, it is
+Art only can lead him to perfection, and leave him there in
+possession, as planted by her hand.  It is the assertion of Tully,
+if to an excellent nature there happen an accession or conformation
+of learning and discipline, there will then remain somewhat noble
+and singular.  For, as Simylus saith in Stobaeus, [Greek text],
+without art nature can never be perfect; and without nature art can
+claim no being.  But our poet must beware that his study be not only
+to learn of himself; for he that shall affect to do that confesseth
+his ever having a fool to his master.  He must read many, but ever
+the best and choicest; those that can teach him anything he must
+ever account his masters, and reverence.  Among whom Horace and (he
+that taught him) Aristotle deserved to be the first in estimation.
+Aristotle was the first accurate critic and truest judge--nay, the
+greatest philosopher the world ever had--for he noted the vices of
+all knowledges in all creatures, and out of many men's perfections
+in a science he formed still one art.  So he taught us two offices
+together, how we ought to judge rightly of others, and what we ought
+to imitate specially in ourselves.  But all this in vain without a
+natural wit and a poetical nature in chief.  For no man, so soon as
+he knows this or reads it, shall be able to write the better; but as
+he is adapted to it by nature, he shall grow the perfecter writer.
+He must have civil prudence and eloquence, and that whole; not taken
+up by snatches or pieces in sentences or remnants when he will
+handle business or carry counsels, as if he came then out of the
+declaimer's gallery, or shadow furnished but out of the body of the
+State, which commonly is the school of men.
+
+Virorum schola respub.--Lysippus.--Apelles.--Naevius.--The poet is
+the nearest borderer upon the orator, and expresseth all his
+virtues, though he be tied more to numbers, is his equal in
+ornament, and above him in his strengths.  And (of the kind) the
+comic comes nearest; because in moving the minds of men, and
+stirring of affections (in which oratory shows, and especially
+approves her eminence), he chiefly excels.  What figure of a body
+was Lysippus ever able to form with his graver, or Apelles to paint
+with his pencil, as the comedy to life expresseth so many and
+various affections of the mind?  There shall the spectator see some
+insulting with joy, others fretting with melancholy, raging with
+anger, mad with love, boiling with avarice, undone with riot,
+tortured with expectation, consumed with fear; no perturbation in
+common life but the orator finds an example of it in the scene.  And
+then for the elegancy of language, read but this inscription on the
+grave of a comic poet:
+
+
+"Immortales mortales si fas esset fiere,
+Flerent divae Camoenae Naevium poetam;
+Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro,
+Obliti sunt Romae lingua loqui Latina." {146a}
+
+
+L. AElius Stilo.--Plautus.--M. Varro.--Or that modester testimony
+given by Lucius AElius Stilo upon Plautus, who affirmed, "Musas, si
+Latine loqui voluissent, Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas."  And
+that illustrious judgment by the most learned M. Varro of him, who
+pronounced him the prince of letters and elegancy in the Roman
+language.
+
+Sophocles.--I am not of that opinion to conclude a poet's liberty
+within the narrow limits of laws which either the grammarians or
+philosophers prescribe.  For before they found out those laws there
+were many excellent poets that fulfilled them, amongst whom none
+more perfect than Sophocles, who lived a little before Aristotle.
+
+Demosthenes.--Pericles.--Alcibiades.--Which of the Greeklings durst
+ever give precepts to Demosthenes? or to Pericles, whom the age
+surnamed Heavenly, because he seemed to thunder and lighten with his
+language? or to Alcibiades, who had rather Nature for his guide than
+Art for his master?
+
+Aristotle.--But whatsoever nature at any time dictated to the most
+happy, or long exercise to the most laborious, that the wisdom and
+learning of Aristotle hath brought into an art, because he
+understood the causes of things; and what other men did by chance or
+custom he doth by reason; and not only found out the way not to err,
+but the short way we should take not to err.
+
+Euripides.--Aristophanes.--Many things in Euripides hath
+Aristophanes wittily reprehended, not out of art, but out of truth.
+For Euripides is sometimes peccant, as he is most times perfect.
+But judgment when it is greatest, if reason doth not accompany it,
+is not ever absolute.
+
+Cens. Scal. in Lil. Germ.--Horace.--To judge of poets is only the
+faculty of poets; and not of all poets, but the best.  Nemo
+infelicius de poetis judicavit, quam qui de poetis scripsit. {148a}
+But some will say critics are a kind of tinkers, that make more
+faults than they mend ordinarily.  See their diseases and those of
+grammarians.  It is true, many bodies are the worse for the meddling
+with; and the multitude of physicians hath destroyed many sound
+patients with their wrong practice.  But the office of a true critic
+or censor is, not to throw by a letter anywhere, or damn an innocent
+syllable, but lay the words together, and amend them; judge
+sincerely of the author and his matter, which is the sign of solid
+and perfect learning in a man.  Such was Horace, an author of much
+civility, and (if any one among the heathen can be) the best master
+both of virtue and wisdom; an excellent and true judge upon cause
+and reason, not because he thought so, but because he knew so out of
+use and experience.
+
+Cato, the grammarian, a defender of Lucilius. {149a}
+
+
+"Cato grammaticus, Latina syren,
+Qui solus legit, et facit poetas."
+
+
+Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected. {149b}
+
+Horace, his judgment of Choerillus defended against Joseph Scaliger.
+{149c}  And of Laberius against Julius. {149d}
+
+But chiefly his opinion of Plautus {149e} vindicated against many
+that are offended, and say it is a hard censure upon the parent of
+all conceit and sharpness.  And they wish it had not fallen from so
+great a master and censor in the art, whose bondmen knew better how
+to judge of Plautus than any that dare patronise the family of
+learning in this age; who could not be ignorant of the judgment of
+the times in which he lived, when poetry and the Latin language were
+at the height; especially being a man so conversant and inwardly
+familiar with the censures of great men that did discourse of these
+things daily amongst themselves.  Again, a man so gracious and in
+high favour with the Emperor, as Augustus often called him his witty
+manling (for the littleness of his stature), and, if we may trust
+antiquity, had designed him for a secretary of estate, and invited
+him to the palace, which he modestly prayed off and refused.
+
+Terence.--Menander.  Horace did so highly esteem Terence's comedies,
+as he ascribes the art in comedy to him alone among the Latins, and
+joins him with Menander.
+
+Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend Horace's
+judgment to posterity and not wholly to condemn Plautus.
+
+The parts of a comedy and tragedy.--The parts of a comedy are the
+same with a tragedy, and the end is partly the same, for they both
+delight and teach; the comics are called [Greek text], of the Greeks
+no less than the tragics.
+
+Aristotle.--Plato.--Homer.--Nor is the moving of laughter always the
+end of comedy; that is rather a fowling for the people's delight, or
+their fooling.  For, as Aristotle says rightly, the moving of
+laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude that depraves
+some part of a man's nature without a disease.  As a wry face
+without pain moves laughter, or a deformed vizard, or a rude clown
+dressed in a lady's habit and using her actions; we dislike and
+scorn such representations which made the ancient philosophers ever
+think laughter unfitting in a wise man.  And this induced Plato to
+esteem of Homer as a sacrilegious person, because he presented the
+gods sometimes laughing.  As also it is divinely said of Aristotle,
+that to seen ridiculous is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.
+
+The wit of the old comedy.--So that what either in the words or
+sense of an author, or in the language or actions of men, is awry or
+depraved does strangely stir mean affections, and provoke for the
+most part to laughter.  And therefore it was clear that all insolent
+and obscene speeches, jests upon the best men, injuries to
+particular persons, perverse and sinister sayings (and the rather
+unexpected) in the old comedy did move laughter, especially where it
+did imitate any dishonesty, and scurrility came forth in the place
+of wit, which, who understands the nature and genius of laughter
+cannot but perfectly know.
+
+Aristophanes.--Plautus.--Of which Aristophanes affords an ample
+harvest, having not only outgone Plautus or any other in that kind,
+but expressed all the moods and figures of what is ridiculous oddly.
+In short, as vinegar is not accounted good until the wine be
+corrupted, so jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter
+with the beast the multitude.  They love nothing that is right and
+proper.  The farther it runs from reason or possibility with them
+the better it is.
+
+Socrates.--Theatrical wit.--What could have made them laugh, like to
+see Socrates presented, that example of all good life, honesty, and
+virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pulley, and there play the
+philosopher in a basket; measure how many foot a flea could skip
+geometrically, by a just scale, and edify the people from the
+engine.  This was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing
+a playhouse, invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had
+savoured of equity, truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have tasten
+a wise or a learned palate,--spit it out presently! this is bitter
+and profitable:  this instructs and would inform us:  what need we
+know any thing, that are nobly born, more than a horse-race, or a
+hunting-match, our day to break with citizens, and such innate
+mysteries?
+
+The cart.--This is truly leaping from the stage to the tumbril
+again, reducing all wit to the original dung-cart.
+
+
+Of the magnitude and compass of any fable, epic or dramatic.
+
+What the measure of a fable is.--The fable or plot of a poem
+defined.--The epic fable, differing from the dramatic.--To the
+resolving of this question we must first agree in the definition of
+the fable.  The fable is called the imitation of one entire and
+perfect action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as
+nothing in the structure can be changed, or taken away, without
+impairing or troubling the whole, of which there is a proportionable
+magnitude in the members.  As for example:  if a man would build a
+house, he would first appoint a place to build it in, which he would
+define within certain bounds; so in the constitution of a poem, the
+action is aimed at by the poet, which answers place in a building,
+and that action hath his largeness, compass, and proportion.  But as
+a court or king's palace requires other dimensions than a private
+house, so the epic asks a magnitude from other poems, since what is
+place in the one is action in the other; the difference is an space.
+So that by this definition we conclude the fable to be the imitation
+of one perfect and entire action, as one perfect and entire place is
+required to a building.  By perfect, we understand that to which
+nothing is wanting, as place to the building that is raised, and
+action to the fable that is formed.  It is perfect, perhaps not for
+a court or king's palace, which requires a greater ground, but for
+the structure he would raise; so the space of the action may not
+prove large enough for the epic fable, yet be perfect for the
+dramatic, and whole.
+
+What we understand by whole.--Whole we call that, and perfect, which
+hath a beginning, a midst, and an end.  So the place of any building
+may be whole and entire for that work, though too little for a
+palace.  As to a tragedy or a comedy, the action may be convenient
+and perfect that would not fit an epic poem in magnitude.  So a lion
+is a perfect creature in himself, though it be less than that of a
+buffalo or a rhinocerote.  They differ but in specie:  either in the
+kind is absolute; both have their parts, and either the whole.
+Therefore, as in every body so in every action, which is the subject
+of a just work, there is required a certain proportionable
+greatness, neither too vast nor too minute.  For that which happens
+to the eyes when we behold a body, the same happens to the memory
+when we contemplate an action.  I look upon a monstrous giant, as
+Tityus, whose body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks
+upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts will never
+be taken in at one entire view.  So in a fable, if the action be too
+great, we can never comprehend the whole together in our
+imagination.  Again, if it be too little, there ariseth no pleasure
+out of the object; it affords the view no stay; it is beheld, and
+vanisheth at once.  As if we should look upon an ant or pismire, the
+parts fly the sight, and the whole considered is almost nothing.
+The same happens in action, which is the object of memory, as the
+body is of sight.  Too vast oppresseth the eyes, and exceeds the
+memory; too little scarce admits either.
+
+What is the utmost bounds of a fable.--Now in every action it
+behoves the poet to know which is his utmost bound, how far with
+fitness and a necessary proportion he may produce and determine it;
+that is, till either good fortune change into the worse, or the
+worse into the better.  For as a body without proportion cannot be
+goodly, no more can the action, either in comedy or tragedy, without
+his fit bounds:  and every bound, for the nature of the subject, is
+esteemed the best that is largest, till it can increase no more; so
+it behoves the action in tragedy or comedy to be let grow till the
+necessity ask a conclusion; wherein two things are to be considered:
+first, that it exceed not the compass of one day; next, that there
+be place left for digression and art.  For the episodes and
+digressions in a fable are the same that household stuff and other
+furniture are in a house.  And so far from the measure and extent of
+a fable dramatic.
+
+What by one and entire.--Now that it should be one and entire.  One
+is considerable two ways; either as it is only separate, and by
+itself, or as being composed of many parts, it begins to be one as
+those parts grow or are wrought together.  That it should be one the
+first away alone, and by itself, no man that hath tasted letters
+ever would say, especially having required before a just magnitude
+and equal proportion of the parts in themselves.  Neither of which
+can possibly be, if the action be single and separate, not composed
+of parts, which laid together in themselves, with an equal and
+fitting proportion, tend to the same end; which thing out of
+antiquity itself hath deceived many, and more this day it doth
+deceive.
+
+Hercules.--Theseus.--Achilles.--Ulysses.--Homer and Virgil.--
+AEneas.--Venus.--So many there be of old that have thought the
+action of one man to be one, as of Hercules, Theseus, Achilles,
+Ulysses, and other heroes; which is both foolish and false, since by
+one and the same person many things may be severally done which
+cannot fitly be referred or joined to the same end:  which not only
+the excellent tragic poets, but the best masters of the epic, Homer
+and Virgil, saw.  For though the argument of an epic poem be far
+more diffused and poured out than that of tragedy, yet Virgil,
+writing of AEneas, hath pretermitted many things.  He neither tells
+how he was born, how brought up, how he fought with Achilles, how he
+was snatched out of the battle by Venus; but that one thing, how he
+came into Italy, he prosecutes in twelve books.  The rest of his
+journey, his error by sea, the sack of Troy, are put not as the
+argument of the work, but episodes of the argument.  So Homer laid
+by many things of Ulysses, and handled no more than he saw tended to
+one and the same end.
+
+Theseus.--Hercules.--Juvenal.--Codrus.--Sophocles.--Ajax.--Ulysses.-
+-Contrary to which, and foolishly, those poets did, whom the
+philosopher taxeth, of whom one gathered all the actions of Theseus,
+another put all the labours of Hercules in one work.  So did he whom
+Juvenal mentions in the beginning, "hoarse Codrus," that recited a
+volume compiled, which he called his Theseide, not yet finished, to
+the great trouble both of his hearers and himself; amongst which
+there were many parts had no coherence nor kindred one with another,
+so far they were from being one action, one fable.  For as a house,
+consisting of divers materials, becomes one structure and one
+dwelling, so an action, composed of divers parts, may become one
+fable, epic or dramatic.  For example, in a tragedy, look upon
+Sophocles, his Ajax:  Ajax, deprived of Achilles' armour, which he
+hoped from the suffrage of the Greeks, disdains; and, growing
+impatient of the injury, rageth, and runs mad.  In that humour he
+doth many senseless things, and at last falls upon the Grecian flock
+and kills a great ram for Ulysses:  returning to his senses, he
+grows ashamed of the scorn, and kills himself; and is by the chiefs
+of the Greeks forbidden burial.  These things agree and hang
+together, not as they were done, but as seeming to be done, which
+made the action whole, entire, and absolute.
+
+The conclusion concerning the whole, and the parts.--Which are
+episodes.--Ajax and Hector.--Homer.--For the whole, as it consisteth
+of parts, so without all the parts it is not the whole; and to make
+it absolute is required not only the parts, but such parts as are
+true.  For a part of the whole was true; which, if you take away,
+you either change the whole or it is not the whole.  For if it be
+such a part, as, being present or absent, nothing concerns the
+whole, it cannot be called a part of the whole; and such are the
+episodes, of which hereafter.  For the present here is one example:
+the single combat of Ajax with Hector, as it is at large described
+in Homer, nothing belongs to this Ajax of Sophocles.
+
+You admire no poems but such as run like a brewer's cart upon the
+stones, hobbling:-
+
+
+"Et, quae per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt,
+   Accius et quidquid Pacuviusque vomunt.
+Attonitusque legis terrai, frugiferai." {160a}
+
+
+
+
+SOME POEMS.
+
+
+
+
+TO WILLIAM CAMDEN
+
+
+
+Camden! most reverend head, to whom I owe
+All that I am in arts, all that I know -
+How nothing's that! to whom my country owes
+The great renown, and name wherewith she goes!
+Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave,
+More high, more holy, that she more would crave.
+What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things!
+What sight in searching the most antique springs!
+What weight, and what authority in thy speech!
+Men scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach.
+Pardon free truth, and let thy modesty,
+Which conquers all, be once o'ercome by thee.
+Many of thine, this better could, than I;
+But for their powers, accept my piety.
+
+
+
+ON MY FIRST DAUGHTER
+
+
+
+Here lies, to each her parents' ruth,
+Mary, the daughter of their youth;
+Yet, all heaven's gifts, being heaven's due,
+It makes the father less to rue.
+At six months' end, she parted hence,
+With safety of her innocence;
+Whose soul heaven's queen, whose name she bears,
+In comfort of her mother's tears,
+Hath placed amongst her virgin-train;
+Where, while that severed doth remain,
+This grave partakes the fleshly birth;
+Which cover lightly, gentle earth!
+
+
+
+ON MY FIRST SON
+
+
+
+Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;
+My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy;
+Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
+Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
+Oh! could I lose all father, now! for why,
+Will man lament the state he should envy?
+To have so soon 'scaped world's, and flesh's rage,
+And, if no other misery, yet age!
+Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie
+Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry;
+For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such,
+As what he loves may never like too much.
+
+
+
+TO FRANCIS BEAUMONT
+
+
+
+How I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse,
+That unto me dost such religion use!
+How I do fear myself, that am not worth
+The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth!
+At once thou mak'st me happy, and unmak'st;
+And giving largely to me, more thou takest!
+What fate is mine, that so itself bereaves?
+What art is thine, that so thy friend deceives?
+When even there, where most thou praisest me,
+For writing better, I must envy thee.
+
+
+
+OF LIFE AND DEATH
+
+
+
+The ports of death are sins; of life, good deeds:
+Through which our merit leads us to our meeds.
+How wilful blind is he, then, that would stray,
+And hath it in his powers to make his way!
+This world death's region is, the other life's:
+And here it should be one of our first strifes,
+So to front death, as men might judge us past it:
+For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.
+
+
+
+INVITING A FRIEND TO SUPPER
+
+
+
+To-night, grave sir, both my poor house and I
+Do equally desire your company;
+Not that we think us worthy such a guest,
+But that your worth will dignify our feast,
+With those that come; whose grace may make that seem
+Something, which else could hope for no esteem.
+It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates
+The entertainment perfect, not the cates.
+Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,
+An olive, capers, or some bitter salad
+Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,
+If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,
+Lemons and wine for sauce:  to these, a coney
+Is not to be despaired of for our money;
+And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,
+The sky not falling, think we may have larks.
+I'll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:
+Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some
+May yet be there; and godwit if we can;
+Knat, rail, and ruff, too.  Howsoe'er, my man
+Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,
+Livy, or of some better book to us,
+Of which we'll speak our minds, amidst our meat;
+And I'll profess no verses to repeat:
+To this if aught appear, which I not know of,
+That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.
+Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be;
+But that which most doth take my muse and me,
+Is a pure cup of rich canary wine,
+Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine:
+Of which had Horace, or Anacreon tasted,
+Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
+Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,
+Are all but Luther's beer, to this I sing.
+Of this we will sup free, but moderately,
+And we will have no Pooly' or Parrot by;
+Nor shall our cups make any guilty men;
+But at our parting we will be as when
+We innocently met.  No simple word
+That shall be uttered at our mirthful board,
+Shall make us sad next morning; or affright
+The liberty that we'll enjoy to-night.
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON SALATHIEL PAVY,
+A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL
+
+
+
+Weep with me all you that read
+   This little story;
+And know for whom a tear you shed,
+   Death's self is sorry.
+'Twas a child that so did thrive
+   In grace and feature,
+As heaven and nature seemed to strive
+   Which owned the creature.
+Years he numbered scarce thirteen
+   When fates turned cruel;
+Yet three filled zodiacs had he been
+   The stage's jewel;
+And did act, what now we moan,
+   Old men so duly;
+As, sooth, the Parcae thought him one
+   He played so truly.
+So, by error to his fate
+   They all consented;
+But viewing him since, alas, too late!
+   They have repented;
+And have sought to give new birth,
+   In baths to steep him;
+But, being so much too good for earth,
+   Heaven vows to keep him.
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L. H.
+
+
+
+Wouldst thou hear what man can say
+In a little?  Reader, stay.
+Underneath this stone doth lie
+As much beauty as could die
+Which in life did harbour give
+To more virtue than doth live.
+If, at all, she had a fault
+Leave it buried in this vault.
+One name was Elizabeth,
+The other let it sleep with death.
+Fitter, where it died, to tell,
+Than that it lived at all.  Farewell.
+
+
+
+EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE
+
+
+
+Underneath this sable hearse
+Lies the subject of all verse,
+Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother:
+Death! ere thou hast slain another,
+Learned, and fair, and good as she,
+Time shall throw a dart at thee.
+
+
+
+TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, AND WHAT HE
+HATH LEFT US
+
+
+
+To draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy name,
+Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;
+While I confess thy writings to be such,
+As neither man, nor muse can praise too much.
+'Tis true, and all men's suffrage.  But these ways
+Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
+For silliest ignorance on these may light,
+Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
+Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
+The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
+Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
+And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.
+These are, as some infamous bawd, or whore,
+Should praise a matron; what would hurt her more?
+But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,
+Above the ill-fortune of them, or the need.
+I, therefore, will begin:  Soul of the age!
+The applause! delight! and wonder of our stage!
+My Shakspeare rise!  I will not lodge thee by
+Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
+A little further off, to make thee room:
+Thou art a monument without a tomb,
+And art alive still, while thy book doth live
+And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
+That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,
+I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;
+For if I thought my judgment were of years,
+I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
+And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine,
+Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow's mighty line.
+And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
+From thence to honour thee, I will not seek
+For names:  but call forth thundering Eschylus,
+Euripides, and Sophocles to us,
+Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead,
+To live again, to hear thy buskin tread,
+And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on,
+Leave thee alone for the comparison
+Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome
+Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
+Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,
+To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
+He was not of an age, but for all time!
+And all the Muses still were in their prime,
+When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
+Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!
+Nature herself was proud of his designs,
+And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
+Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
+As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
+The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,
+Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;
+But antiquated and deserted lie,
+As they were not of nature's family.
+Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,
+My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.
+For though the poet's matter nature be,
+His heart doth give the fashion:  and, that he
+Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,
+(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
+Upon the Muse's anvil; turn the same,
+And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;
+Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn;
+For a good poet's made, as well as born.
+And such wert thou!  Look how the father's face
+Lives in his issue, even so the race
+Of Shakspeare's mind and manners brightly shines
+In his well-turned, and true filed lines;
+In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
+As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.
+Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were
+To see thee in our water yet appear,
+And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
+That so did take Eliza, and our James!
+But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere
+Advanced, and made a constellation there!
+Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage,
+Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,
+Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,
+And despairs day, but for thy volume's light.
+
+
+
+TO CELIA
+
+
+
+Drink to me only with thine eyes,
+   And I will pledge with mine;
+Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
+   And I'll not look for wine.
+The thirst that from the soul doth rise
+   Doth ask a drink divine:
+But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
+   I would not change for thine.
+
+I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
+   Not so much honouring thee,
+As giving it a hope that there
+   It could not withered be.
+But thou thereon didst only breathe,
+   And sent'st it back to me:
+Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
+   Not of itself, but thee.
+
+
+
+THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS
+
+
+
+   See the chariot at hand here of Love,
+      Wherein my lady rideth!
+   Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
+      And well the car Love guideth.
+   As she goes, all hearts do duty
+         Unto her beauty;
+   And, enamoured, do wish, so they might
+         But enjoy such a sight,
+   That they still were to run by her side,
+Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.
+
+   Do but look on her eyes, they do light
+      All that Love's world compriseth!
+   Do but look on her hair, it is bright
+      As Love's star when it riseth!
+   Do but mark, her forehead's smoother
+         Than words that soothe her!
+   And from her arched brows, such a grace
+         Sheds itself through the face,
+   As alone there triumphs to the life
+All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife.
+
+   Have you seen but a bright lily grow
+      Before rude hands have touched it?
+   Have you marked but the fall o' the snow
+      Before the soil hath smutched it?
+   Have you felt the wool of beaver?
+         Or swan's down ever?
+   Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier?
+         Or the nard in the fire?
+   Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
+O so white!  O so soft!  O so sweet is she!
+
+
+
+IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND
+A SONG APOLOGETIC
+
+
+
+Men, if you love us, play no more
+   The fools or tyrants with your friends,
+To make us still sing o'er and o'er
+   Our own false praises, for your ends:
+      We have both wits and fancies too,
+      And, if we must, let's sing of you.
+
+Nor do we doubt but that we can,
+   If we would search with care and pain,
+Find some one good in some one man;
+   So going thorough all your strain,
+      We shall, at last, of parcels make
+      One good enough for a song's sake.
+
+And as a cunning painter takes,
+   In any curious piece you see,
+More pleasure while the thing he makes,
+   Than when 'tis made--why so will we.
+      And having pleased our art, we'll try
+      To make a new, and hang that by.
+
+
+
+ODE
+To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair, Sir Lucius
+Cary and Sir Henry Morison.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+THE TURN.
+
+   Brave infant of Saguntum, clear
+   Thy coming forth in that great year,
+When the prodigious Hannibal did crown
+His cage, with razing your immortal town.
+      Thou, looking then about,
+      Ere thou wert half got out,
+   Wise child, didst hastily return,
+   And mad'st thy mother's womb thine urn.
+How summed a circle didst thou leave mankind
+Of deepest lore, could we the centre find!
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN.
+
+   Did wiser nature draw thee back,
+   From out the horror of that sack,
+Where shame, faith, honour, and regard of right,
+Lay trampled on? the deeds of death and night,
+      Urged, hurried forth, and hurled
+      Upon th' affrighted world;
+   Sword, fire, and famine, with fell fury met,
+   And all on utmost ruin set;
+As, could they but life's miseries foresee,
+No doubt all infants would return like thee.
+
+THE STAND.
+
+For what is life, if measured by the space
+      Not by the act?
+Or masked man, if valued by his face,
+      Above his fact?
+   Here's one outlived his peers,
+   And told forth fourscore years;
+   He vexed time, and busied the whole state;
+      Troubled both foes and friends;
+      But ever to no ends:
+   What did this stirrer but die late?
+How well at twenty had he fallen or stood!
+For three of his fourscore he did no good.
+
+II.
+
+THE TURN
+
+   He entered well, by virtuous parts,
+   Got up, and thrived with honest arts;
+He purchased friends, and fame, and honours then,
+And had his noble name advanced with men:
+      But weary of that flight,
+      He stooped in all men's sight
+         To sordid flatteries, acts of strife,
+         And sunk in that dead sea of life,
+So deep, as he did then death's waters sup,
+But that the cork of title buoyed him up.
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN
+
+   Alas! but Morison fell young:
+   He never fell,--thou fall'st, my tongue.
+He stood a soldier to the last right end,
+A perfect patriot, and a noble friend;
+      But most, a virtuous son.
+      All offices were done
+   By him, so ample, full, and round,
+   In weight, in measure, number, sound,
+As, though his age imperfect might appear,
+His life was of humanity the sphere.
+
+THE STAND
+
+Go now, and tell out days summed up with fears,
+      And make them years;
+Produce thy mass of miseries on the stage,
+      To swell thine age;
+   Repeat of things a throng,
+   To show thou hast been long,
+Not lived:  for life doth her great actions spell.
+   By what was done and wrought
+   In season, and so brought
+To light:  her measures are, how well
+Each syllabe answered, and was formed, how fair;
+These make the lines of life, and that's her air!
+
+III.
+
+THE TURN
+
+   It is not growing like a tree
+   In bulk, doth make men better be;
+Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
+To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear:
+      A lily of a day,
+      Is fairer far in May,
+   Although it fall and die that night;
+   It was the plant, and flower of light.
+In small proportions we just beauties see;
+And in short measures, life may perfect be.
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN
+
+   Call, noble Lucius, then for wine,
+   And let thy looks with gladness shine:
+Accept this garland, plant it on thy head
+And think, nay know, thy Morison's not dead
+      He leaped the present age,
+      Possessed with holy rage
+   To see that bright eternal day;
+   Of which we priests and poets say,
+Such truths, as we expect for happy men:
+And there he lives with memory and Ben.
+
+THE STAND
+
+Jonson, who sung this of him, ere he went,
+         Himself to rest,
+Or taste a part of that full joy he meant
+         To have expressed,
+      In this bright Asterism!
+      Where it were friendship's schism,
+   Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry,
+      To separate these twi-
+      Lights, the Dioscouri;
+   And keep the one half from his Harry,
+But fate doth so alternate the design
+Whilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine.
+
+IV.
+
+THE TURN
+
+   And shine as you exalted are;
+   Two names of friendship, but one star:
+Of hearts the union, and those not by chance
+Made, or indenture, or leased out t'advance
+      The profits for a time.
+      No pleasures vain did chime,
+   Of rhymes, or riots, at your feasts,
+   Orgies of drink, or feigned protests:
+But simple love of greatness and of good,
+That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.
+
+THE COUNTER-TURN
+
+   This made you first to know the why
+   You liked, then after, to apply
+That liking; and approach so one the t'other,
+Till either grew a portion of the other:
+      Each styled by his end,
+      The copy of his friend.
+   You lived to be the great sir-names,
+   And titles, by which all made claims
+Unto the virtue; nothing perfect done,
+But as a Cary, or a Morison.
+
+THE STAND
+
+And such a force the fair example had,
+         As they that saw
+The good, and durst not practise it, were glad
+         That such a law
+      Was left yet to mankind;
+      Where they might read and find
+   Friendship, indeed, was written not in words;
+      And with the heart, not pen,
+      Of two so early men,
+   Whose lines her rolls were, and records;
+Who, ere the first down bloomed upon the chin,
+Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in.
+
+PRAELUDIUM
+
+And must I sing?  What subject shall I choose!
+Or whose great name in poets' heaven use,
+For the more countenance to my active muse?
+
+Hercules? alas, his bones are yet sore
+With his old earthly labours t' exact more
+Of his dull godhead were sin.  I'll implore
+
+Phoebus.  No, tend thy cart still.  Envious day
+Shall not give out that I have made thee stay,
+And foundered thy hot team, to tune my lay.
+
+Nor will I beg of thee, lord of the vine,
+To raise my spirits with thy conjuring wine,
+In the green circle of thy ivy twine.
+
+Pallas, nor thee I call on, mankind maid,
+That at thy birth mad'st the poor smith afraid.
+Who with his axe thy father's midwife played.
+
+Go, cramp dull Mars, light Venus, when he snorts,
+Or with thy tribade trine invent new sports;
+Thou, nor thy looseness with my making sorts.
+
+Let the old boy, your son, ply his old task,
+Turn the stale prologue to some painted mask;
+His absence in my verse is all I ask.
+
+Hermes, the cheater, shall not mix with us,
+Though he would steal his sisters' Pegasus,
+And rifle him; or pawn his petasus.
+
+Nor all the ladies of the Thespian lake,
+Though they were crushed into one form, could make
+A beauty of that merit, that should take
+
+My muse up by commission; no, I bring
+My own true fire:  now my thought takes wing,
+And now an epode to deep ears I sing.
+
+
+
+EPODE
+
+
+
+Not to know vice at all, and keep true state,
+   Is virtue and not fate:
+Next to that virtue, is to know vice well,
+   And her black spite expel.
+Which to effect (since no breast is so sure,
+   Or safe, but she'll procure
+Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard
+   Of thoughts to watch and ward
+At th' eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,
+   That no strange, or unkind
+Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,
+   Give knowledge instantly
+To wakeful reason, our affections' king:
+   Who, in th' examining,
+Will quickly taste the treason, and commit
+   Close, the close cause of it.
+'Tis the securest policy we have,
+   To make our sense our slave.
+But this true course is not embraced by many:
+   By many! scarce by any.
+For either our affections do rebel,
+   Or else the sentinel,
+That should ring 'larum to the heart, doth sleep:
+   Or some great thought doth keep
+Back the intelligence, and falsely swears
+   They're base and idle fears
+Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.
+   Thus, by these subtle trains,
+Do several passions invade the mind,
+   And strike our reason blind:
+Of which usurping rank, some have thought love
+   The first:  as prone to move
+Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests,
+   In our inflamed breasts:
+But this doth from the cloud of error grow,
+   Which thus we over-blow.
+The thing they here call love is blind desire,
+   Armed with bow, shafts, and fire;
+Inconstant, like the sea, of whence 'tis born,
+   Rough, swelling, like a storm;
+With whom who sails, rides on the surge of fear,
+   And boils as if he were
+In a continual tempest.  Now, true love
+   No such effects doth prove;
+That is an essence far more gentle, fine,
+   Pure, perfect, nay, divine;
+It is a golden chain let down from heaven,
+   Whose links are bright and even;
+That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines
+   The soft and sweetest minds
+In equal knots:  this bears no brands, nor darts,
+   To murder different hearts,
+But, in a calm and god-like unity,
+   Preserves community.
+O, who is he that, in this peace, enjoys
+   Th' elixir of all joys?
+A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,
+   And lasting as her flowers;
+Richer than Time and, as Times's virtue, rare;
+   Sober as saddest care;
+A fixed thought, an eye untaught to glance;
+   Who, blest with such high chance,
+Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,
+   Cast himself from the spire
+Of all his happiness?  But soft:  I hear
+   Some vicious fool draw near,
+That cries, we dream, and swears there's no such thing,
+   As this chaste love we sing.
+Peace, Luxury! thou art like one of those
+   Who, being at sea, suppose,
+Because they move, the continent doth so:
+   No, Vice, we let thee know
+Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows' wings do fly,
+   Turtles can chastely die;
+And yet (in this t' express ourselves more clear)
+   We do not number here
+Such spirits as are only continent,
+   Because lust's means are spent;
+Or those who doubt the common mouth of fame,
+   And for their place and name,
+Cannot so safely sin:  their chastity
+   Is mere necessity;
+Nor mean we those whom vows and conscience
+   Have filled with abstinence:
+Though we acknowledge who can so abstain,
+   Makes a most blessed gain;
+He that for love of goodness hateth ill,
+   Is more crown-worthy still
+Than he, which for sin's penalty forbears:
+   His heart sins, though he fears.
+But we propose a person like our Dove,
+   Graced with a Phoenix' love;
+A beauty of that clear and sparkling light,
+   Would make a day of night,
+And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys:
+   Whose odorous breath destroys
+All taste of bitterness, and makes the air
+   As sweet as she is fair.
+A body so harmoniously composed,
+   As if nature disclosed
+All her best symmetry in that one feature!
+   O, so divine a creature
+Who could be false to? chiefly, when he knows
+   How only she bestows
+The wealthy treasure of her love on him;
+   Making his fortunes swim
+In the full flood of her admired perfection?
+   What savage, brute affection,
+Would not be fearful to offend a dame
+   Of this excelling frame?
+Much more a noble, and right generous mind,
+   To virtuous moods inclined,
+That knows the weight of guilt:  he will refrain
+   From thoughts of such a strain,
+And to his sense object this sentence ever,
+   "Man may securely sin, but safely never."
+
+
+
+AN ELEGY
+
+
+
+Though beauty be the mark of praise,
+   And yours, of whom I sing, be such
+   As not the world can praise too much,
+Yet is 't your virtue now I raise.
+
+A virtue, like allay, so gone
+   Throughout your form, as though that move,
+   And draw, and conquer all men's love,
+This subjects you to love of one,
+
+Wherein you triumph yet:  because
+   'Tis of yourself, and that you use
+   The noblest freedom, not to choose
+Against or faith, or honour's laws.
+
+But who could less expect from you,
+   In whom alone Love lives again?
+   By whom he is restored to men;
+And kept, and bred, and brought up true?
+
+His falling temples you have reared,
+   The withered garlands ta'en away;
+   His altars kept from the decay
+That envy wished, and nature feared;
+
+And on them burns so chaste a flame,
+   With so much loyalty's expense,
+   As Love, t' acquit such excellence,
+Is gone himself into your name.
+
+And you are he:  the deity
+   To whom all lovers are designed,
+   That would their better objects find;
+Among which faithful troop am I;
+
+Who, as an offering at your shrine,
+   Have sung this hymn, and here entreat
+   One spark of your diviner heat
+To light upon a love of mine;
+
+Which, if it kindle not, but scant
+   Appear, and that to shortest view,
+   Yet give me leave t' adore in you
+What I, in her, am grieved to want.
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+{11}  "So live with yourself that you do not know how ill yow mind
+is furnished."
+
+{12}  [Greek text]
+
+{14}  "A Puritan is a Heretical Hypocrite, in whom the conceit of
+his own perspicacity, by which he seems to himself to have observed
+certain errors in a few Church dogmas, has disturbed the balance of
+his mind, so that, excited vehemently by a sacred fury, he fights
+frenzied against civil authority, in the belief that he so pays
+obedience to God."
+
+{17a}  Night gives counsel.
+
+{17b}  Plutarch in Life of Alexander.  "Let it not be, O King, that
+you know these things better than I."
+
+{19a}  "They were not our lords, but our leaders."
+
+{19b}  "Much of it is left also for those who shall be hereafter."
+
+{19c}  "No art is discovered at once and absolutely."
+
+{22}  With a great belly.  Comes de Schortenhien.
+
+{23}  "In all things I have a better wit and courage than good
+fortune."
+
+{24a}  "The rich soil exhausts; but labour itself is an aid."
+
+{24b}  "And the gesticulation is vile."
+
+{25a}  "An end is to be looked for in every man, an animal most
+prompt to change."
+
+{25b}  Arts are not shared among heirs.
+
+{31a}  "More loquacious than eloquent; words enough, but little
+wisdom."--Sallust.
+
+{31b}  Repeated in the following Latin.  "The best treasure is in
+that man's tongue, and he has mighty thanks, who metes out each
+thing in a few words."--Hesiod.
+
+{31c}  Vid. Zeuxidis pict. Serm. ad Megabizum.--Plutarch.
+
+{32a}  "While the unlearned is silent he may be accounted wise, for
+he has covered by his silence the diseases of his mind."
+
+{32b}  Taciturnity.
+
+{33a}  "Hold your tongue above all things, after the example of the
+gods."--See Apuleius.
+
+{33b}  "Press down the lip with the finger."--Juvenal.
+
+{33c}  Plautus.
+
+{33d}  Trinummus, Act 2, Scen. 4.
+
+{34a}  "It was the lodging of calamity."--Mart. lib. 1, ep. 85.
+
+{41}  ["Ficta omnia celeriter tanquam flosculi decidunt, nec
+simulatum potest quidquam esse diuturnum."--Cicero.]
+
+{44a}  Let a Punic sponge go with the book.--Mart. 1. iv. epig. 10.
+
+{47a}  He had to be repressed.
+
+{49a}  A wit-stand.
+
+{49b}  Martial. lib. xi. epig. 91.  That fall over the rough ways
+and high rocks.
+
+{59a}  Sir Thomas More.  Sir Thomas Wiat.  Henry Earl of Surrey.
+Sir Thomas Chaloner.  Sir Thomas Smith.  Sir Thomas Eliot.  Bishop
+Gardiner.  Sir Nicolas Bacon, L.K.  Sir Philip Sidney.  Master
+Richard Hooker.  Robert Earl of Essex.  Sir Walter Raleigh.  Sir
+Henry Savile.  Sir Edwin Sandys.  Sir Thomas Egerton, L.C.  Sir
+Francis Bacon, L.C.
+
+{62a}  "Which will secure a long age for the known writer."--Horat.
+de Art. Poetica.
+
+{66a}  They have poison for their food, even for their dainty.
+
+{74a}  Haud infima ars in principe, ubi lenitas, ubi severitas--plus
+polleat in commune bonum callere.
+
+{74b}  i.e., Machiavell.
+
+{81a}  "Censure pardons the crows and vexes the doves."--Juvenal.
+
+{81b}  "Does not spread his net for the hawk or the kite."--Plautus.
+
+{93}  Parrhasius.  Eupompus.  Socrates.  Parrhasius.  Clito.
+Polygnotus.  Aglaophon.  Zeuxis.  Parrhasius.  Raphael de Urbino.
+Mich.  Angelo Buonarotti.  Titian.  Antony de Correg.  Sebast. de
+Venet.  Julio Romano.  Andrea Sartorio.
+
+{94}  Plin. lib. 35. c. 2, 5, 6, and 7.  Vitruv. lib. 8 and 7.
+
+{95}  Horat. in "Arte Poet."
+
+{106a}  Livy, Sallust, Sidney, Donne, Gower, Chaucer, Spenser,
+Virgil, Ennius, Homer, Quintilian, Plautus, Terence.
+
+{110a}  The interpreter of gods and men.
+
+{111a}  Julius Caesar.  Of words, see Hor. "De Art. Poet.;" Quintil.
+1. 8, "Ludov. Vives," pp. 6 and 7.
+
+{111b}  A prudent man conveys nothing rashly.
+
+{114a}  That jolt as they fall over the rough places and the rocks.
+
+{116a}  Directness enlightens, obliquity and circumlocution darken.
+
+{117a}  Ocean trembles as if indignant that you quit the land.
+
+{117b}  You might believe that the uprooted Cyclades were floating
+in.
+
+{118a}  Those armies of the people of Rome that might break through
+the heavens.--Caesar.  Comment. circa fin.
+
+{124a}  No one can speak rightly unless he apprehends wisely.
+
+{133a}  "Where the discussion of faults is general, no one is
+injured."
+
+{133b}  "Gnaw tender little ears with biting truth--Per Sat. 1.
+
+{133c}  "The wish for remedy is always truer than the hope.--Livius.
+
+{136a}  "AEneas dedicates these arms concerning the conquering
+Greeks."--Virg. AEn. lib. 3.
+
+{136b}  "You buy everything, Castor; the time will come when you
+will sell everything."--Martial, lib. 8, epig. 19.
+
+{136c}  "Cinna wishes to seem poor, and is poor."
+
+{136d}  "Which is evident in every first song."
+
+{139a}  "There is a god within us, and when he is stirred we grow
+warm; that spirit comes from heavenly realms."
+
+{146a}  "If it were allowable for immortals to weep for mortals, the
+Muses would weep for the poet Naevius; since he is handed to the
+chamber of Orcus, they have forgotten how to speak Latin at Rome.
+
+{148a}  "No one has judged poets less happily than he who wrote
+about them."--Senec. de Brev. Vit, cap. 13, et epist. 88.
+
+{149a}  Heins, de Sat. 265.
+
+{149b}  Pag. 267.
+
+{149c}  Pag. 270. 271.
+
+{149d}  Pag. 273, et seq.
+
+{149e}  Pag. in comm. 153, et seq.
+
+{160a}  "And which jolt as they fall over the rough uneven road and
+high rocks."--Martial, lib. xi. epig. 91.
+
+
+
+
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+<a href="#startoftext">Discoveries and Some Poems, by Ben Jonson</a>
+</h2>
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+Title: Discoveries and Some Poems
+
+Author: Ben Jonson
+
+Release Date: February, 2004  [EBook #5134]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on May 10, 2002]
+[Most recently updated: May 10, 2002]
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+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+</pre>
+<p>
+<a name="startoftext"></a>
+Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, from the 1892
+Cassell &amp; Company edition.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER<br>
+AND SOME POEMS<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Contents:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Introduction by Henry Morley<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sylva<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Timber, or Discoveries ...<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Some Poems<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To William Camden<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On My First Daughter<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;On My First Son<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To Francis Beaumont<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of Life and Death<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Inviting a Friend to Supper<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Epitaph on Salathiel Pavy<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Epitaph on Elizabeth L. H.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To the Memory of my Beloved Master
+William Shakespeare<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To Celia<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Triumph of Charis<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In the Person of Womankind<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ode<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pr&aelig;ludium<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Epode<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;An Elegy<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+INTRODUCTION<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Ben Jonson&rsquo;s &ldquo;Discoveries&rdquo; are, as he says in the
+few Latin words prefixed to them, &ldquo;A wood - Sylva - of things
+and thoughts, in Greek &ldquo;&upsilon;&lambda;&eta;&rdquo; [which has
+for its first meaning material, but is also applied peculiarly to kinds
+of wood, and to a wood], &ldquo;from the multiplicity and variety of
+the material contained in it.&nbsp; For, as we are commonly used to
+call the infinite mixed multitude of growing trees a wood, so the ancients
+gave the name of Sylv&aelig; - Timber Trees - to books of theirs in
+which small works of various and diverse matter were promiscuously brought
+together.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+In this little book we have some of the best thoughts of one of the
+most vigorous minds that ever added to the strength of English literature.&nbsp;
+The songs added are a part of what Ben Jonson called his &ldquo;Underwoods.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+Ben Jonson was of a north-country family from the Annan district that
+produced Thomas Carlyle.&nbsp; His father was ruined by religious persecution
+in the reign of Mary, became a preacher in Elizabeth&rsquo;s reign,
+and died a month before the poet&rsquo;s birth in 1573.&nbsp; Ben Jonson,
+therefore, was about nine years younger than Shakespeare, and he survived
+Shakespeare about twenty-one years, dying in August, 1637.&nbsp; Next
+to Shakespeare Ben Jonson was, in his own different way, the man of
+most mark in the story of the English drama.&nbsp; His mother, left
+poor, married again.&nbsp; Her second husband was a bricklayer, or small
+builder, and they lived for a time near Charing Cross in Hartshorn Lane.&nbsp;
+Ben Jonson was taught at the parish school of St. Martin&rsquo;s till
+he was discovered by William Camden, the historian.&nbsp; Camden was
+then second master in Westminster School.&nbsp; He procured for young
+Ben an admission into his school, and there laid firm foundations for
+that scholarship which the poet extended afterwards by private study
+until his learning grew to be sworn-brother to his wit.<br>
+<br>
+Ben Jonson began the world poor.&nbsp; He worked for a very short time
+in his step-father&rsquo;s business.&nbsp; He volunteered to the wars
+in the Low Countries.&nbsp; He came home again, and joined the players.&nbsp;
+Before the end of Elizabeth&rsquo;s reign he had written three or four
+plays, in which he showed a young and ardent zeal for setting the world
+to rights, together with that high sense of the poet&rsquo;s calling
+which put lasting force into his work.&nbsp; He poured contempt on those
+who frittered life away.&nbsp; He urged on the poetasters and the mincing
+courtiers, who set their hearts on top-knots and affected movements
+of their lips and legs:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;That these vain joys in which their wills consume<br>
+Such powers of wit and soul as are of force<br>
+To raise their beings to eternity,<br>
+May be converted on works fitting men;<br>
+And for the practice of a forc&eacute;d look,<br>
+An antic gesture, or a fustian phrase,<br>
+Study the native frame of a true heart,<br>
+An inward comeliness of bounty, knowledge,<br>
+And spirit that may conform them actually<br>
+To God&rsquo;s high figures, which they have in power.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Ben Jonson&rsquo;s genius was producing its best work in the earlier
+years of the reign of James I.&nbsp; His <i>Volpone</i>,<i> </i>the
+<i>Silent Woman</i>,<i> </i>and the <i>Alchemist </i>first appeared
+side by side with some of the ripest works of Shakespeare in the years
+from 1605 to 1610.&nbsp; In the latter part of James&rsquo;s reign he
+produced masques for the Court, and turned with distaste from the public
+stage.&nbsp; When Charles I. became king, Ben Jonson was weakened in
+health by a paralytic stroke.&nbsp; He returned to the stage for a short
+time through necessity, but found his best friends in the best of the
+young poets of the day.&nbsp; These looked up to him as their father
+and their guide.&nbsp; Their own best efforts seemed best to them when
+they had won Ben Jonson&rsquo;s praise.&nbsp; They valued above all
+passing honours man could give the words, &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; in the
+old poet&rsquo;s greeting, which, as they said, &ldquo;sealed them of
+the tribe of Ben.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+H. M.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+SYLVA<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Rerum et sententiarum quasi &ldquo;&Upsilon;&lambda;&eta; dicta a multiplici
+materia et varietate in iis content&aacute;.&nbsp; Quemadmod&ugrave;m
+enim vulg&ograve; solemus infinitam arborum nascentium indiscriminatim
+multitudinem Sylvam dicere: it&agrave; etiam libros suos in quibus vari&aelig;
+et divers&aelig; materi&aelig; opuscula temere congesta erant, Sylvas
+appellabant antiqui: Timber-trees.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+TIMBER;<br>
+OR,<br>
+DISCOVERIES MADE UPON MEN AND MATTER,<br>
+AS THEY HAVE FLOWED OUT OF HIS DAILY READINGS,<br>
+OR HAD THEIR REFLUX TO HIS PECULIAR<br>
+NOTION OF THE TIMES.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Tecum habita</i>,<i> ut n&ocirc;ris quam sit tibi curta supellex</i>
+<a name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11">{11}</a><br>
+PERS.&nbsp; Sat. 4.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Fortuna.</i> - Ill fortune never crushed that man whom good fortune
+deceived not.&nbsp; I therefore have counselled my friends never to
+trust to her fairer side, though she seemed to make peace with them;
+but to place all things she gave them, so as she might ask them again
+without their trouble, she might take them from them, not pull them:
+to keep always a distance between her and themselves.&nbsp; He knows
+not his own strength that hath not met adversity.&nbsp; Heaven prepares
+good men with crosses; but no ill can happen to a good man.&nbsp; Contraries
+are not mixed.&nbsp; Yet that which happens to any man may to every
+man.&nbsp; But it is in his reason, what he accounts it and will make
+it.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Casus.</i> - Change into extremity is very frequent and easy.&nbsp;
+As when a beggar suddenly grows rich, he commonly becomes a prodigal;
+for, to obscure his former obscurity, he puts on riot and excess.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Consilia.</i> - No man is so foolish but may give another good counsel
+sometimes; and no man is so wise but may easily err, if he will take
+no others&rsquo; counsel but his own.&nbsp; But very few men are wise
+by their own counsel, or learned by their own teaching.&nbsp; For he
+that was only taught by himself <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12">{12}</a>
+had a fool to his master.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Fama</i>. - A Fame that is wounded to the world would be better cured
+by another&rsquo;s apology than its own: for few can apply medicines
+well themselves.&nbsp; Besides, the man that is once hated, both his
+good and his evil deeds oppress him.&nbsp; He is not easily emergent.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Negotia</i>. - In great affairs it is a work of difficulty to please
+all.&nbsp; And ofttimes we lose the occasions of carrying a business
+well and thoroughly by our too much haste.&nbsp; For passions are spiritual
+rebels, and raise sedition against the understanding.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Amor patri&aelig;</i>. - There is a necessity all men should love
+their country: he that professeth the contrary may be delighted with
+his words, but his heart is there.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Ingenia</i>. - Natures that are hardened to evil you shall sooner
+break than make straight; they are like poles that are crooked and dry,
+there is no attempting them.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Applausus</i>. - We praise the things we hear with much more willingness
+than those we see, because we envy the present and reverence the past;
+thinking ourselves instructed by the one, and overlaid by the other.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Opinio</i>. - Opinion is a light, vain, crude, and imperfect thing;
+settled in the imagination, but never arriving at the understanding,
+there to obtain the tincture of reason.&nbsp; We labour with it more
+than truth.&nbsp; There is much more holds us than presseth us.&nbsp;
+An ill fact is one thing, an ill fortune is another; yet both oftentimes
+sway us alike, by the error of our thinking.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Impostura</i>. - Many men believe not themselves what they would
+persuade others; and less do the things which they would impose on others;
+but least of all know what they themselves most confidently boast.&nbsp;
+Only they set the sign of the cross over their outer doors, and sacrifice
+to their gut and their groin in their inner closets.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Jactura vit&aelig;</i>. - What a deal of cold business doth a man
+misspend the better part of life in! in scattering compliments, tendering
+visits, gathering and venting news, following feasts and plays, making
+a little winter-love in a dark corner.<br>
+<br>
+Hypocrita<i>.</i> - <i>Puritanus Hypocrita est H&aelig;reticus</i>,<i>
+quem opinio propri&aelig; perspicaci&aelig;</i>,<i> qu&acirc; sibi videtur</i>,<i>
+cum paucis in Ecclesi&acirc; dogmatibus errores quosdam animadvertisse</i>,<i>
+de statu mentis deturbavit: unde sacro furore percitus</i>,<i> phrenetice
+pugnat contra magistratus</i>,<i> sic ratus obedientiam pr&aelig;stare
+Deo</i>. <a name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14">{14}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Mutua auxilia.</i> - Learning needs rest: sovereignty gives it.&nbsp;
+Sovereignty needs counsel: learning affords it.&nbsp; There is such
+a consociation of offices between the prince and whom his favour breeds,
+that they may help to sustain his power as he their knowledge.&nbsp;
+It is the greatest part of his liberality, his favour; and from whom
+doth he hear discipline more willingly, or the arts discoursed more
+gladly, than from those whom his own bounty and benefits have made able
+and faithful?<br>
+<br>
+<i>Cognit. univers</i>. - In being able to counsel others, a man must
+be furnished with a universal store in himself, to the knowledge of
+all nature - that is, the matter and seed-plot: there are the seats
+of all argument and invention.&nbsp; But especially you must be cunning
+in the nature of man: there is the variety of things which are as the
+elements and letters, which his art and wisdom must rank and order to
+the present occasion.&nbsp; For we see not all letters in single words,
+nor all places in particular discourses.&nbsp; That cause seldom happens
+wherein a man will use all arguments.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Consiliarii adjunct.&nbsp; Probitas</i>,<i> Sapientia.</i> - The
+two chief things that give a man reputation in counsel are the opinion
+of his honesty and the opinion of his wisdom: the authority of those
+two will persuade when the same counsels uttered by other persons less
+qualified are of no efficacy or working.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Vita recta.</i> - Wisdom without honesty is mere craft and cozenage.&nbsp;
+And therefore the reputation of honesty must first be gotten, which
+cannot be but by living well.&nbsp; A good life is a main argument.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Obsequentia.</i> - <i>Humanitas.</i> - <i>Solicitudo.</i> - Next
+a good life, to beget love in the persons we counsel, by dissembling
+our knowledge of ability in ourselves, and avoiding all suspicion of
+arrogance, ascribing all to their instruction, as an ambassador to his
+master, or a subject to his sovereign; seasoning all with humanity and
+sweetness, only expressing care and solicitude.&nbsp; And not to counsel
+rashly, or on the sudden, but with advice and meditation.&nbsp; (<i>Dat
+nox consilium</i>. <a name="citation17a"></a><a href="#footnote17a">{17a}</a>)&nbsp;
+For many foolish things fall from wise men, if they speak in haste or
+be extemporal.&nbsp; It therefore behoves the giver of counsel to be
+circumspect; especially to beware of those with whom he is not thoroughly
+acquainted, lest any spice of rashness, folly, or self-love appear,
+which will be marked by new persons and men of experience in affairs.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Modestia</i>. - <i>Parrhesia</i>. - And to the prince, or his superior,
+to behave himself modestly and with respect.&nbsp; Yet free from flattery
+or empire.&nbsp; Not with insolence or precept; but as the prince were
+already furnished with the parts he should have, especially in affairs
+of state.&nbsp; For in other things they will more easily suffer themselves
+to be taught or reprehended: they will not willingly contend, but hear,
+with Alexander, the answer the musician gave him: <i>Absit</i>,<i> o
+rex</i>,<i> ut tu meli&ugrave;s h&aelig;c scias</i>,<i> qu&agrave;m
+ego. </i><a name="citation17b"></a><a href="#footnote17b">{17b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Perspicuitas.</i> - <i>Elegantia.</i> - A man should so deliver himself
+to the nature of the subject whereof he speaks, that his hearer may
+take knowledge of his discipline with some delight; and so apparel fair
+and good matter, that the studious of elegancy be not defrauded; redeem
+arts from their rough and braky seats, where they lay hid and overgrown
+with thorns, to a pure, open, and flowery light, where they may take
+the eye and be taken by the hand.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Natura non eff&aelig;ta</i>. - I cannot think Nature is so spent
+and decayed that she can bring forth nothing worth her former years.&nbsp;
+She is always the same, like herself; and when she collects her strength
+is abler still.&nbsp; Men are decayed, and studies: she is not.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Non nimi&ugrave;m credendum antiquitati</i>. - I know nothing can
+conduce more to letters than to examine the writings of the ancients,
+and not to rest in their sole authority, or take all upon trust from
+them, provided the plagues of judging and pronouncing against them be
+away; such as are envy, bitterness, precipitation, impudence, and scurrilous
+scoffing.&nbsp; For to all the observations of the ancients we have
+our own experience, which if we will use and apply, we have better means
+to pronounce.&nbsp; It is true they opened the gates, and made the way
+that went before us, but as guides, not commanders: <i>Non domini nostri</i>,<i>
+sed duces fu&ecirc;re</i>. <a name="citation19a"></a><a href="#footnote19a">{19a}</a>&nbsp;
+ Truth lies open to all; it is no man&rsquo;s several.&nbsp; <i>Patet
+omnibus veritas</i>;<i> nondum est occupata.&nbsp; Multum ex ill&acirc;</i>,<i>
+etiam futuris relicta est</i>. <a name="citation19b"></a><a href="#footnote19b">{19b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Dissentire licet</i>,<i> sed cum ratione.</i> - If in some things
+I dissent from others, whose wit, industry, diligence, and judgment,
+I look up at and admire, let me not therefore hear presently of ingratitude
+and rashness.&nbsp; For I thank those that have taught me, and will
+ever; but yet dare not think the scope of their labour and inquiry was
+to envy their posterity what they also could add and find out.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Non mihi credendum sed veritati</i>. - If I err, pardon me: <i>Nulla
+ars simul et inventa est et absoluta</i>. <a name="citation19c"></a><a href="#footnote19c">{19c}</a>&nbsp;
+I do not desire to be equal to those that went before; but to have my
+reason examined with theirs, and so much faith to be given them, or
+me, as those shall evict.&nbsp; I am neither author nor fautor of any
+sect.&nbsp; I will have no man addict himself to me; but if I have anything
+right, defend it as Truth&rsquo;s, not mine, save as it conduceth to
+a common good.&nbsp; It profits not me to have any man fence or fight
+for me, to flourish, or take my side.&nbsp; Stand for truth, and &lsquo;tis
+enough.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Scienti&aelig; liberales</i>. - Arts that respect the mind were ever
+reputed nobler than those that serve the body, though we less can be
+without them, as tillage, spinning, weaving, building, &amp;c., without
+which we could scarce sustain life a day.&nbsp; But these were the works
+of every hand; the other of the brain only, and those the most generous
+and exalted wits and spirits, that cannot rest or acquiesce.&nbsp; The
+mind of man is still fed with labour: <i>Opere pascitur.<br>
+<br>
+Non vulgi sunt</i>. - There is a more secret cause, and the power of
+liberal studies lies more hid than that it can be wrought out by profane
+wits.&nbsp; It is not every man&rsquo;s way to hit.&nbsp; There are
+men, I confess, that set the carat and value upon things as they love
+them; but science is not every man&rsquo;s mistress.&nbsp; It is as
+great a spite to be praised in the wrong place, and by a wrong person,
+as can be done to a noble nature.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Honesta ambitio</i>. - If divers men seek fame or honour by divers
+ways, so both be honest, neither is to be blamed; but they that seek
+immortality are not only worthy of love, but of praise.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Maritus improbus</i>. - He hath a delicate wife, a fair fortune,
+a family to go to and be welcome; yet he had rather be drunk with mine
+host and the fiddlers of such a town, than go home.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Afflictio pia magistra</i>. - Affliction teacheth a wicked person
+some time to pray: prosperity never.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Deploratis facilis descensus Averni</i>. - <i>The devil take all</i>.
+- Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they
+would venture their industry the right way; but &ldquo;The devil take
+all!&rdquo; quoth he that was choked in the mill-dam, with his four
+last words in his mouth.<br>
+<br>
+<i>&AElig;gidius cursu superat.</i> - A cripple in the way out-travels
+a footman or a post out of the way.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Prodigo nummi nauci</i>. - Bags of money to a prodigal person are
+the same that cherry-stones are with some boys, and so thrown away.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Munda et sordida</i>. - A woman, the more curious she is about her
+face is commonly the more careless about her house.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Debitum deploratum</i>. - Of this spilt water there is a little to
+be gathered up: it is a desperate debt.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Latro sesquipedalis.</i> - The thief <a name="citation22"></a><a href="#footnote22">{22}</a>
+that had a longing at the gallows to commit one robbery more before
+he was hanged.<br>
+<br>
+And like the German lord, when he went out of Newgate into the cart,
+took order to have his arms set up in his last herborough: said was
+he taken and committed upon suspicion of treason, no witness appearing
+against him; but the judges entertained him most civilly, discoursed
+with him, offered him the courtesy of the rack; but he confessed, &amp;c.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Calumni&aelig; fructus</i>. - I am beholden to calumny, that she
+hath so endeavoured and taken pains to belie me.&nbsp; It shall make
+me set a surer guard on myself, and keep a better watch upon my actions.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Impertinens</i>. - A tedious person is one a man would leap a steeple
+from, gallop down any steep lull to avoid him; forsake his meat, sleep,
+nature itself, with all her benefits, to shun him.&nbsp; A mere impertinent;
+one that touched neither heaven nor earth in his discourse.&nbsp; He
+opened an entry into a fair room, but shut it again presently.&nbsp;
+I spoke to him of garlic, he answered asparagus; consulted him of marriage,
+he tells me of hanging, as if they went by one and the same destiny.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Bellum scribentium</i>. - What a sight it is to see writers committed
+together by the ears for ceremonies, syllables, points, colons, commas,
+hyphens, and the like, fighting as for their fires and their altars;
+and angry that none are frighted at their noises and loud brayings under
+their asses&rsquo; skins.<br>
+<br>
+There is hope of getting a fortune without digging in these quarries.&nbsp;
+<i>Sed meliore (in omne) ingenio animoque qu&agrave;m fortun&acirc;</i>,<i>
+sum usus. </i><a name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23">{23}</a><br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Pingue solum lassat; sed juvat ipse labor.&rdquo; <a name="citation24a"></a><a href="#footnote24a">{24a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Differentia inter doctos et sciolos</i>. - Wits made out their several
+expeditions then for the discovery of truth, to find out great and profitable
+knowledges; had their several instruments for the disquisition of arts.&nbsp;
+Now there are certain scioli or smatterers that are busy in the skirts
+and outsides of learning, and have scarce anything of solid literature
+to commend them.&nbsp; They may have some edging or trimming of a scholar,
+a welt or so; but it is no more.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Impostorum fucus.</i> - Imposture is a specious thing, yet never
+worse than when it feigns to be best, and to none discovered sooner
+than the simplest.&nbsp; For truth and goodness are plain and open;
+but imposture is ever ashamed of the light.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Icunculorum motio</i>. - A puppet-play must be shadowed and seen
+in the dark; for draw the curtain, <i>et sordet gesticulatio. </i><a name="citation24b"></a><a href="#footnote24b">{24b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Principes et administri.</i> - There is a great difference in the
+understanding of some princes, as in the quality of their ministers
+about them.&nbsp; Some would dress their masters in gold, pearl, and
+all true jewels of majesty; others furnish them with feathers, bells,
+and ribands, and are therefore esteemed the fitter servants.&nbsp; But
+they are ever good men that must make good the times; if the men be
+naught, the times will be such.&nbsp; <i>Finis exspectandus est in unoquoque
+hominum; animali ad mutationem promptissmo</i>. <a name="citation25a"></a><a href="#footnote25a">{25a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Scitum Hispanicum</i>. - It is a quick saying with the Spaniards,
+<i>Artes inter h&aelig;redes non dividi</i>. <a name="citation25b"></a><a href="#footnote25b">{25b}</a>&nbsp;
+Yet these have inherited their fathers&rsquo; lying, and they brag of
+it.&nbsp; He is a narrow-minded man that affects a triumph in any glorious
+study; but to triumph in a lie, and a lie themselves have forged, is
+frontless.&nbsp; Folly often goes beyond her bounds; but Impudence knows
+none.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Non nova res livor</i>. - Envy is no new thing, nor was it born only
+in our times.&nbsp; The ages past have brought it forth, and the coming
+ages will.&nbsp; So long as there are men fit for it, <i>quorum odium
+virtute relict&acirc; placet</i>,<i> </i>it will never be wanting.&nbsp;
+It is a barbarous envy, to take from those men&rsquo;s virtues which,
+because thou canst not arrive at, thou impotently despairest to imitate.&nbsp;
+Is it a crime in me that I know that which others had not yet known
+but from me? or that I am the author of many things which never would
+have come in thy thought but that I taught them?&nbsp; It is new but
+a foolish way you have found out, that whom you cannot equal or come
+near in doing, you would destroy or ruin with evil speaking; as if you
+had bound both your wits and natures &rsquo;prentices to slander, and
+then came forth the best artificers when you could form the foulest
+calumnies.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Nil gratius protervo lib</i>. - Indeed nothing is of more credit
+or request now than a petulant paper, or scoffing verses; and it is
+but convenient to the times and manners we live with, to have then the
+worst writings and studies flourish when the best begin to be despised.&nbsp;
+Ill arts begin where good end.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Jam liter&aelig; sordent.</i> - <i>Pastus hodiern. ingen.</i> - The
+time was when men would learn and study good things, not envy those
+that had them.&nbsp; Then men were had in price for learning; now letters
+only make men vile.&nbsp; He is upbraidingly called a poet, as if it
+were a contemptible nick-name: but the professors, indeed, have made
+the learning cheap - railing and tinkling rhymers, whose writings the
+vulgar more greedily read, as being taken with the scurrility and petulancy
+of such wits.&nbsp; He shall not have a reader now unless he jeer and
+lie.&nbsp; It is the food of men&rsquo;s natures; the diet of the times;
+gallants cannot sleep else.&nbsp; The writer must lie and the gentle
+reader rests happy to hear the worthiest works misinterpreted, the clearest
+actions obscured, the innocentest life traduced: and in such a licence
+of lying, a field so fruitful of slanders, how can there be matter wanting
+to his laughter?&nbsp; Hence comes the epidemical infection; for how
+can they escape the contagion of the writings, whom the virulency of
+the calumnies hath not staved off from reading?<br>
+<br>
+<i>Sed seculi morbus</i>. - Nothing doth more invite a greedy reader
+than an unlooked-for subject.&nbsp; And what more unlooked-for than
+to see a person of an unblamed life made ridiculous or odious by the
+artifice of lying?&nbsp; But it is the disease of the age; and no wonder
+if the world, growing old, begin to be infirm: old age itself is a disease.&nbsp;
+It is long since the sick world began to dote and talk idly: would she
+had but doted still! but her dotage is now broke forth into a madness,
+and become a mere frenzy.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Alastoris malitia</i>. - This Alastor, who hath left nothing unsearched
+or unassailed by his impudent and licentious lying in his aguish writings
+(for he was in his cold quaking fit all the while), what hath he done
+more than a troublesome base cur? barked and made a noise afar off;
+had a fool or two to spit in his mouth, and cherish him with a musty
+bone?&nbsp; But they are rather enemies of my fame than me, these barkers.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Mali Choragi fuere</i>. - It is an art to have so much judgment as
+to apparel a lie well, to give it a good dressing; that though the nakedness
+would show deformed and odious, the suiting of it might draw their readers.&nbsp;
+Some love any strumpet, be she never so shop-like or meretricious, in
+good clothes.&nbsp; But these, nature could not have formed them better
+to destroy their own testimony and overthrow their calumny.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Hear-say news</i>. - That an elephant, in 1630, came hither ambassador
+from the Great Mogul, who could both write and read, and was every day
+allowed twelve cast of bread, twenty quarts of Canary sack, besides
+nuts and almonds the citizens&rsquo; wives sent him.&nbsp; That he had
+a Spanish boy to his interpreter, and his chief negociation was to confer
+or practise with Archy, the principal fool of state, about stealing
+hence Windsor Castle and carrying it away on his back if he can.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Lingua sapientis</i>,<i> potius qu&acirc;m loquentis</i>. - A wise
+tongue should not be licentious and wandering; but moved and, as it
+were, governed with certain reins from the heart and bottom of the breast:
+and it was excellently said of that philosopher, that there was a wall
+or parapet of teeth set in our mouth, to restrain the petulancy of our
+words; that the rashness of talking should not only be retarded by the
+guard and watch of our heart, but be fenced in and defended by certain
+strengths placed in the mouth itself, and within the lips.&nbsp; But
+you shall see some so abound with words, without any seasoning or taste
+of matter, in so profound a security, as while they are speaking, for
+the most part they confess to speak they know not what.<br>
+<br>
+Of the two (if either were to be wished) I would rather have a plain
+downright wisdom, than a foolish and affected eloquence.&nbsp; For what
+is so furious and Bedlam like as a vain sound of chosen and excellent
+words, without any subject of sentence or science mixed?<br>
+<br>
+<i>Optanda.</i> - <i>Thersites Homeri</i>. - Whom the disease of talking
+still once possesseth, he can never hold his peace.&nbsp; Nay, rather
+than he will not discourse he will hire men to hear him.&nbsp; And so
+heard, not hearkened unto, he comes off most times like a mountebank,
+that when he hath praised his medicines, finds none will take them,
+or trust him.&nbsp; He is like Homer&rsquo;s <i>Thersites.<br>
+<br>
+</i>&Alpha;&mu;&epsilon;&tau;&rho;&omicron;&epsilon;&pi;&eta;&sigmaf;,
+&alpha;&kappa;&rho;&iota;&tau;&omicron;&mu;&upsilon;&theta;&omicron;&sigmaf;;
+speaking without judgement or measure.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Loquax magis, qu&agrave;m facundus,<br>
+Satis loquenti&aelig;, sapienti&aelig; parum.<a name="citation31a"></a><a href="#footnote31a">{31a}</a><br>
+&Gamma;&lambda;&omega;&sigma;&sigma;&eta;&sigmaf; &tau;&omicron;&iota;
+&theta;&eta;&sigma;&alpha;&upsilon;&rho;&omicron;&sigmaf; &epsilon;&nu;
+&alpha;&nu;&theta;&rho;&omega;&pi;&omicron;&iota;&sigma;&iota;&nu; &alpha;&rho;&iota;&sigma;&tau;&omicron;&sigmaf;<br>
+&phi;&epsilon;&iota;&delta;&omega;&lambda;&eta;&sigmaf;, &pi;&lambda;&epsilon;&iota;&sigma;&tau;&eta;
+&delta;&epsilon; &chi;&alpha;&rho;&iota;&sigmaf; &kappa;&alpha;&tau;&alpha;
+&mu;&epsilon;&tau;&rho;&omicron;&nu; &iota;&omicron;&upsilon;&sigma;&eta;&sigmaf;.
+<a name="citation31b"></a><a href="#footnote31b">{31b}</a><br>
+Optimus est homini lingu&aelig; thesaurus, et ingens<br>
+Gratia, qu&aelig; parcis mensurat singula verbis.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Homeri Ulysses</i>. - <i>Demacatus Plutarchi</i>. - Ulysses, in Homer,
+is made a long-thinking man before he speaks; and Epaminondas is celebrated
+by Pindar to be a man that, though he knew much, yet he spoke but little.&nbsp;
+Demacatus, when on the bench he was long silent and said nothing, one
+asking him if it were folly in him, or want of language, he answered,
+&ldquo;A fool could never hold his peace.&rdquo; <a name="citation31c"></a><a href="#footnote31c">{31c}</a>&nbsp;
+For too much talking is ever the index of a fool.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Dum tacet indoctus, poterit cordatus haberi;<br>
+Is morbos animi namque tacendo tegit.&rdquo; <a name="citation32a"></a><a href="#footnote32a">{32a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Nor is that worthy speech of Zeno the philosopher to be passed over
+with the note of ignorance; who being invited to a feast in Athens,
+where a great prince&rsquo;s ambassadors were entertained, and was the
+only person that said nothing at the table; one of them with courtesy
+asked him, &ldquo;What shall we return from thee, Zeno, to the prince
+our master, if he asks us of thee?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo;
+he replied, &ldquo;more but that you found an old man in Athens that
+knew to be silent amongst his cups.&rdquo;&nbsp; It was near a miracle
+to see an old man silent, since talking is the disease of age; but amongst
+cups makes it fully a wonder.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Argute dictum</i>. - It was wittily said upon one that was taken
+for a great and grave man so long as he held his peace, &ldquo;This
+man might have been a counsellor of state, till he spoke; but having
+spoken, not the beadle of the ward.&rdquo;&nbsp; &Epsilon;&chi;&epsilon;&mu;&upsilon;&theta;&iota;&alpha;.
+<a name="citation32b"></a><a href="#footnote32b">{32b}</a>&nbsp; Pytag.
+qu&agrave;m laudabilis!&nbsp; &gamma;&lambda;&omega;&sigma;&sigma;&eta;&sigmaf;
+&pi;&rho;&omicron; &tau;&omega;&nu; &alpha;&lambda;&lambda;&omega;&nu;
+&kappa;&rho;&alpha;&tau;&epsilon;&iota;, &theta;&epsilon;&omicron;&iota;&sigmaf;
+&epsilon;&pi;&omicron;&mu;&epsilon;&nu;&omicron;&sigmaf;.&nbsp; Linguam
+cohibe, pr&aelig; aliis omnibus, ad deorum exemplum. <a name="citation33a"></a><a href="#footnote33a">{33a}</a>&nbsp;
+Digito compesce labellum. <a name="citation33b"></a><a href="#footnote33b">{33b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<i>Acutius cernuntur vitia quam virtutes.</i> - There is almost no man
+but he sees clearlier and sharper the vices in a speaker, than the virtues.&nbsp;
+And there are many, that with more ease will find fault with what is
+spoken foolishly than can give allowance to that wherein you are wise
+silently.&nbsp; The treasure of a fool is always in his tongue, said
+the witty comic poet; <a name="citation33c"></a><a href="#footnote33c">{33c}</a>
+and it appears not in anything more than in that nation, whereof one,
+when he had got the inheritance of an unlucky old grange, would needs
+sell it; <a name="citation33d"></a><a href="#footnote33d">{33d}</a>
+and to draw buyers proclaimed the virtues of it.&nbsp; Nothing ever
+thrived on it, saith he.&nbsp; No owner of it ever died in his bed;
+some hung, some drowned themselves; some were banished, some starved;
+the trees were all blasted; the swine died of the measles, the cattle
+of the murrain, the sheep of the rot; they that stood were ragged, bare,
+and bald as your hand; nothing was ever reared there, not a duckling,
+or a goose.&nbsp; <i>Hospitium fuerat calamitatis</i>. <a name="citation34a"></a><a href="#footnote34a">{34a}</a>&nbsp;
+Was not this man like to sell it?<br>
+<br>
+<i>Vulgi expectatio</i>. - Expectation of the vulgar is more drawn and
+held with newness than goodness; we see it in fencers, in players, in
+poets, in preachers, in all where fame promiseth anything; so it be
+new, though never so naught and depraved, they run to it, and are taken.&nbsp;
+Which shews, that the only decay or hurt of the best men&rsquo;s reputation
+with the people is, their wits have out-lived the people&rsquo;s palates.&nbsp;
+They have been too much or too long a feast.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Claritas patri&aelig;.</i> - Greatness of name in the father oft-times
+helps not forth, but overwhelms the son; they stand too near one another.&nbsp;
+The shadow kills the growth: so much, that we see the grandchild come
+more and oftener to be heir of the first, than doth the second: he dies
+between; the possession is the third&rsquo;s.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Eloquentia.</i> - Eloquence is a great and diverse thing: nor did
+she yet ever favour any man so much as to become wholly his.&nbsp; He
+is happy that can arrive to any degree of her grace.&nbsp; Yet there
+are who prove themselves masters of her, and absolute lords; but I believe
+they may mistake their evidence: for it is one thing to be eloquent
+in the schools, or in the hall; another at the bar, or in the pulpit.&nbsp;
+There is a difference between mooting and pleading; between fencing
+and fighting.&nbsp; To make arguments in my study, and confute them,
+is easy; where I answer myself, not an adversary.&nbsp; So I can see
+whole volumes dispatched by the umbratical doctors on all sides: but
+draw these forth into the just lists: let them appear <i>sub dio</i>,<i>
+</i>and they are changed with the place, like bodies bred in the shade;
+they cannot suffer the sun or a shower, nor bear the open air; they
+scarce can find themselves, that they were wont to domineer so among
+their auditors: but indeed I would no more choose a rhetorician for
+reigning in a school, than I would a pilot for rowing in a pond.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Amor et odium</i>. - Love that is ignorant, and hatred, have almost
+the same ends: many foolish lovers wish the same to their friends, which
+their enemies would: as to wish a friend banished, that they might accompany
+him in exile; or some great want, that they might relieve him; or a
+disease, that they might sit by him.&nbsp; They make a causeway to their
+country by injury, as if it were not honester to do nothing than to
+seek a way to do good by a mischief.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Injuria</i>. - Injuries do not extinguish courtesies: they only suffer
+them not to appear fair.&nbsp; For a man that doth me an injury after
+a courtesy, takes not away that courtesy, but defaces it: as he that
+writes other verses upon my verses, takes not away the first letters,
+but hides them.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Beneficia</i>. - Nothing is a courtesy unless it be meant us; and
+that friendly and lovingly.&nbsp; We owe no thanks to rivers, that they
+carry our boats; or winds, that they be favouring and fill our sails;
+or meats, that they be nourishing.&nbsp; For these are what they are
+necessarily.&nbsp; Horses carry us, trees shade us, but they know it
+not.&nbsp; It is true, some men may receive a courtesy and not know
+it; but never any man received it from him that knew it not.&nbsp; Many
+men have been cured of diseases by accidents; but they were not remedies.&nbsp;
+I myself have known one helped of an ague by falling into a water; another
+whipped out of a fever; but no man would ever use these for medicines.&nbsp;
+It is the mind, and not the event, that distinguisheth the courtesy
+from wrong.&nbsp; My adversary may offend the judge with his pride and
+impertinences, and I win my cause; but he meant it not to me as a courtesy.&nbsp;
+I scaped pirates by being shipwrecked; was the wreck a benefit therefore?&nbsp;
+No; the doing of courtesies aright is the mixing of the respects for
+his own sake and for mine.&nbsp; He that doeth them merely for his own
+sake is like one that feeds his cattle to sell them; he hath his horse
+well dressed for Smithfield.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Valor rerum.</i> - The price of many things is far above what they
+are bought and sold for.&nbsp; Life and health, which are both inestimable,
+we have of the physician; as learning and knowledge, the true tillage
+of the mind, from our schoolmasters.&nbsp; But the fees of the one or
+the salary of the other never answer the value of what we received,
+but served to gratify their labours.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Memoria</i>. - Memory, of all the powers of the mind, is the most
+delicate and frail; it is the first of our faculties that age invades.&nbsp;
+Seneca, the father, the rhetorician, confesseth of himself he had a
+miraculous one, not only to receive but to hold.&nbsp; I myself could,
+in my youth, have repeated all that ever I had made, and so continued
+till I was past forty; since, it is much decayed in me.&nbsp; Yet I
+can repeat whole books that I have read, and poems of some selected
+friends which I have liked to charge my memory with.&nbsp; It was wont
+to be faithful to me; but shaken with age now, and sloth, which weakens
+the strongest abilities, it may perform somewhat, but cannot promise
+much.&nbsp; By exercise it is to be made better and serviceable.&nbsp;
+Whatsoever I pawned with it while I was young and a boy, it offers me
+readily, and without stops; but what I trust to it now, or have done
+of later years, it lays up more negligently, and oftentimes loses; so
+that I receive mine own (though frequently called for) as if it were
+new and borrowed.&nbsp; Nor do I always find presently from it what
+I seek; but while I am doing another thing, that I laboured for will
+come; and what I sought with trouble will offer itself when I am quiet.&nbsp;
+Now, in some men I have found it as happy as Nature, who, whatsoever
+they read or pen, they can say without book presently, as if they did
+then write in their mind.&nbsp; And it is more a wonder in such as have
+a swift style, for their memories are commonly slowest; such as torture
+their writings, and go into council for every word, must needs fix somewhat,
+and make it their own at last, though but through their own vexation.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Comit. suffragia.</i> - Suffrages in Parliament are numbered, not
+weighed; nor can it be otherwise in those public councils where nothing
+is so unequal as the equality; for there, how odd soever men&rsquo;s
+brains or wisdoms are, their power is always even and the same.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Stare &agrave; partibus.</i> - Some actions, be they never so beautiful
+and generous, are often obscured by base and vile misconstructions,
+either out of envy or ill-nature, that judgeth of others as of itself.&nbsp;
+Nay, the times are so wholly grown to be either partial or malicious,
+that if he be a friend all sits well about him, his very vices shall
+be virtues; if an enemy, or of the contrary faction, nothing is good
+or tolerable in him; insomuch that we care not to discredit and shame
+our judgments to soothe our passions.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Deus in creaturis.</i> - Man is read in his face; God in His creatures;
+not as the philosopher, the creature of glory, reads him; but as the
+divine, the servant of humility; yet even he must take care not to be
+too curious.&nbsp; For to utter truth of God but as he thinks only,
+may be dangerous, who is best known by our not knowing.&nbsp; Some things
+of Him, so much as He hath revealed or commanded, it is not only lawful
+but necessary for us to know; for therein our ignorance was the first
+cause of our wickedness.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Veritas proprium hominis.</i> - Truth is man&rsquo;s proper good,
+and the only immortal thing was given to our mortality to use.&nbsp;
+No good Christian or ethnic, if he be honest, can miss it; no statesman
+or patriot should.&nbsp; For without truth all the actions of mankind
+are craft, malice, or what you will, rather than wisdom.&nbsp; Homer
+says he hates him worse than hell-mouth that utters one thing with his
+tongue and keeps another in his breast.&nbsp; Which high expression
+was grounded on divine reason; for a lying mouth is a stinking pit,
+and murders with the contagion it venteth.&nbsp; Beside, nothing is
+lasting that is feigned; it will have another face than it had, ere
+long. <a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41">{41}</a>&nbsp;
+As Euripides saith, &ldquo;No lie ever grows old.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<i>Nullum vitium sine patrocinio.</i> - It is strange there should be
+no vice without its patronage, that when we have no other excuse we
+will say, we love it, we cannot forsake it.&nbsp; As if that made it
+not more a fault.&nbsp; We cannot, because we think we cannot, and we
+love it because we will defend it.&nbsp; We will rather excuse it than
+be rid of it.&nbsp; That we cannot is pretended; but that we will not
+is the true reason.&nbsp; How many have I known that would not have
+their vices hid? nay, and, to be noted, live like Antipodes to others
+in the same city? never see the sun rise or set in so many years, but
+be as they were watching a corpse by torch-light; would not sin the
+common way, but held that a kind of rusticity; they would do it new,
+or contrary, for the infamy; they were ambitious of living backward;
+and at last arrived at that, as they would love nothing but the vices,
+not the vicious customs.&nbsp; It was impossible to reform these natures;
+they were dried and hardened in their ill.&nbsp; They may say they desired
+to leave it, but do not trust them; and they may think they desire it,
+but they may lie for all that; they are a little angry with their follies
+now and then; marry, they come into grace with them again quickly.&nbsp;
+They will confess they are offended with their manner of living like
+enough; who is not?&nbsp; When they can put me in security that they
+are more than offended, that they hate it, then I will hearken to them,
+and perhaps believe them; but many now-a-days love and hate their ill
+together.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De vere argutis</i>. - I do hear them say often some men are not
+witty, because they are not everywhere witty; than which nothing is
+more foolish.&nbsp; If an eye or a nose be an excellent part in the
+face, therefore be all eye or nose!&nbsp; I think the eyebrow, the forehead,
+the cheek, chin, lip, or any part else are as necessary and natural
+in the place.&nbsp; But now nothing is good that is natural; right and
+natural language seems to have least of the wit in it; that which is
+writhed and tortured is counted the more exquisite.&nbsp; Cloth of bodkin
+or tissue must be embroidered; as if no face were fair that were not
+powdered or painted! no beauty to be had but in wresting and writhing
+our own tongue!&nbsp; Nothing is fashionable till it be deformed; and
+this is to write like a gentleman.&nbsp; All must be affected and preposterous
+as our gallants&rsquo; clothes, sweet-bags, and night-dressings, in
+which you would think our men lay in, like ladies, it is so curious.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Censura de poetis</i>. - Nothing in our age, I have observed, is
+more preposterous than the running judgments upon poetry and poets;
+when we shall hear those things commended and cried up for the best
+writings which a man would scarce vouchsafe to wrap any wholesome drug
+in; he would never light his tobacco with them.&nbsp; And those men
+almost named for miracles, who yet are so vile that if a man should
+go about to examine and correct them, he must make all they have done
+but one blot.&nbsp; Their good is so entangled with their bad as forcibly
+one must draw on the other&rsquo;s death with it.&nbsp; A sponge dipped
+in ink will do all:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo; - Comitetur Punica librum<br>
+Spongia. - &rdquo; <a name="citation44a"></a><a href="#footnote44a">{44a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Et paul&ograve; post,<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Non possunt . . . mult&aelig; . . . litur&aelig;<br>
+. . . una litura potest.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Cestius</i> - <i>Cicero</i> - <i>Heath</i> - <i>Taylor</i> - <i>Spenser.</i>
+- Yet their vices have not hurt them; nay, a great many they have profited,
+for they have been loved for nothing else.&nbsp; And this false opinion
+grows strong against the best men, if once it take root with the ignorant.&nbsp;
+Cestius, in his time, was preferred to Cicero, so far as the ignorant
+durst.&nbsp; They learned him without book, and had him often in their
+mouths; but a man cannot imagine that thing so foolish or rude but will
+find and enjoy an admirer; at least a reader or spectator.&nbsp; The
+puppets are seen now in despite of the players; Heath&rsquo;s epigrams
+and the Sculler&rsquo;s poems have their applause.&nbsp; There are never
+wanting that dare prefer the worst preachers, the worst pleaders, the
+worst poets; not that the better have left to write or speak better,
+but that they that hear them judge worse; <i>Non illi pejus dicunt</i>,<i>
+sed hi corruptius judicant</i>.&nbsp; Nay, if it were put to the question
+of the water-rhymer&rsquo;s works, against Spenser&rsquo;s, I doubt
+not but they would find more suffrages; because the most favour common
+vices, out of a prerogative the vulgar have to lose their judgments
+and like that which is naught.<br>
+<br>
+Poetry, in this latter age, hath proved but a mean mistress to such
+as have wholly addicted themselves to her, or given their names up to
+her family.&nbsp; They who have but saluted her on the by, and now and
+then tendered their visits, she hath done much for, and advanced in
+the way of their own professions (both the law and the gospel) beyond
+all they could have hoped or done for themselves without her favour.&nbsp;
+Wherein she doth emulate the judicious but preposterous bounty of the
+time&rsquo;s grandees, who accumulate all they can upon the parasite
+or fresh-man in their friendship; but think an old client or honest
+servant bound by his place to write and starve.<br>
+<br>
+Indeed, the multitude commend writers as they do fencers or wrestlers,
+who if they come in robustiously and put for it with a deal of violence
+are received for the braver fellows; when many times their own rudeness
+is a cause of their disgrace, and a slight touch of their adversary
+gives all that boisterous force the foil.&nbsp; But in these things
+the unskilful are naturally deceived, and judging wholly by the bulk,
+think rude things greater than polished, and scattered more numerous
+than composed; nor think this only to be true in the sordid multitude,
+but the neater sort of our gallants; for all are the multitude, only
+they differ in clothes, not in judgment or understanding.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De Shakspeare nostrat.</i> - <i>Augustus in Hat</i>. - I remember
+the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, that
+in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted out a line.&nbsp;
+My answer hath been, &ldquo;Would he had blotted a thousand,&rdquo;
+which they thought a malevolent speech.&nbsp; I had not told posterity
+this but for their ignorance who chose that circumstance to commend
+their friend by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candour,
+for I loved the man, and do honour his memory on this side idolatry
+as much as any.&nbsp; He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free
+nature, had an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle expressions,
+wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it was necessary
+he should be stopped.&nbsp; &ldquo;<i>Sufflaminandus erat</i>,&rdquo;
+<a name="citation47a"></a><a href="#footnote47a">{47a}</a> as Augustus
+said of Haterius.&nbsp; His wit was in his own power; would the rule
+of it had been so, too.&nbsp; Many times he fell into those things,
+could not escape laughter, as when he said in the person of C&aelig;sar,
+one speaking to him, &ldquo;C&aelig;sar, thou dost me wrong.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+He replied, &ldquo;C&aelig;sar did never wrong but with just cause;&rdquo;
+and such like, which were ridiculous.&nbsp; But he redeemed his vices
+with his virtues.&nbsp; There was ever more in him to be praised than
+to be pardoned.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Ingeniorum discrimina.</i> - <i>Not. </i>1. - In the difference of
+wits I have observed there are many notes; and it is a little maistry
+to know them, to discern what every nature, every disposition will bear;
+for before we sow our land we should plough it.&nbsp; There are no fewer
+forms of minds than of bodies amongst us.&nbsp; The variety is incredible,
+and therefore we must search.&nbsp; Some are fit to make divines, some
+poets, some lawyers, some physicians; some to be sent to the plough,
+and trades.<br>
+<br>
+There is no doctrine will do good where nature is wanting.&nbsp; Some
+wits are swelling and high; others low and still; some hot and fiery;
+others cold and dull; one must have a bridle, the other a spur.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>2. - There be some that are forward and bold; and these
+will do every little thing easily.&nbsp; I mean that is hard by and
+next them, which they will utter unretarded without any shamefastness.&nbsp;
+These never perform much, but quickly.&nbsp; They are what they are
+on the sudden; they show presently, like grain that, scattered on the
+top of the ground, shoots up, but takes no root; has a yellow blade,
+but the ear empty.&nbsp; They are wits of good promise at first, but
+there is an <i>ingenistitium</i>; <a name="citation49a"></a><a href="#footnote49a">{49a}</a>
+they stand still at sixteen, they get no higher.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>3. - You have others that labour only to ostentation; and
+are ever more busy about the colours and surface of a work than in the
+matter and foundation, for that is hid, the other is seen.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>4. - Others that in composition are nothing but what is
+rough and broken.&nbsp; <i>Qu&aelig; per salebras</i>,<i> altaque saxa
+cadunt. </i><a name="citation49b"></a><a href="#footnote49b">{49b}</a>&nbsp;
+And if it would come gently, they trouble it of purpose.&nbsp; They
+would not have it run without rubs, as if that style were more strong
+and manly that struck the ear with a kind of unevenness.&nbsp; These
+men err not by chance, but knowingly and willingly; they are like men
+that affect a fashion by themselves; have some singularity in a ruff
+cloak, or hat-band; or their beards specially cut to provoke beholders,
+and set a mark upon themselves.&nbsp; They would be reprehended while
+they are looked on.&nbsp; And this vice, one that is authority with
+the rest, loving, delivers over to them to be imitated; so that ofttimes
+the faults which be fell into the others seek for.&nbsp; This is the
+danger, when vice becomes a precedent.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>5. - Others there are that have no composition at all; but
+a kind of tuning and rhyming fall in what they write.&nbsp; It runs
+and slides, and only makes a sound.&nbsp; Women&rsquo;s poets they are
+called, as you have women&rsquo;s tailors.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;They write a verse as smooth, as soft as cream,<br>
+In which there is no torrent, nor scarce stream.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+You may sound these wits and find the depth of them with your middle
+finger.&nbsp; They are cream-bowl or but puddle-deep.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>6. - Some that turn over all books, and are equally searching
+in all papers; that write out of what they presently find or meet, without
+choice.&nbsp; By which means it happens that what they have discredited
+and impugned in one week, they have before or after extolled the same
+in another.&nbsp; Such are all the essayists, even their master Montaigne.&nbsp;
+These, in all they write, confess still what books they have read last,
+and therein their own folly so much, that they bring it to the stake
+raw and undigested; not that the place did need it neither, but that
+they thought themselves furnished and would vent it<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>7. - Some, again who, after they have got authority, or,
+which is less, opinion, by their writings, to have read much, dare presently
+to feign whole books and authors, and lie safely.&nbsp; For what never
+was, will not easily be found, not by the most curious.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>8. - And some, by a cunning protestation against all reading,
+and false venditation of their own naturals, think to divert the sagacity
+of their readers from themselves, and cool the scent of their own fox-like
+thefts; when yet they are so rank, as a man may find whole pages together
+usurped from one author; their necessities compelling them to read for
+present use, which could not be in many books; and so come forth more
+ridiculously and palpably guilty than those who, because they cannot
+trace, they yet would slander their industry.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>9. - But the wretcheder are the obstinate contemners of
+all helps and arts; such as presuming on their own naturals (which,
+perhaps, are excellent), dare deride all diligence, and seem to mock
+at the terms when they understand not the things; thinking that way
+to get off wittily with their ignorance.&nbsp; These are imitated often
+by such as are their peers in negligence, though they cannot be in nature;
+and they utter all they can think with a kind of violence and indisposition,
+unexamined, without relation either to person, place, or any fitness
+else; and the more wilful and stubborn they are in it the more learned
+they are esteemed of the multitude, through their excellent vice of
+judgment, who think those things the stronger that have no art; as if
+to break were better than to open, or to rend asunder gentler than to
+loose.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Not. </i>10. - It cannot but come to pass that these men who commonly
+seek to do more than enough may sometimes happen on something that is
+good and great; but very seldom: and when it comes it doth not recompense
+the rest of their ill.&nbsp; For their jests, and their sentences (which
+they only and ambitiously seek for) stick out, and are more eminent,
+because all is sordid and vile about them; as lights are more discerned
+in a thick darkness than a faint shadow.&nbsp; Now, because they speak
+all they can (however unfitly), they are thought to have the greater
+copy; where the learned use ever election and a mean, they look back
+to what they intended at first, and make all an even and proportioned
+body.&nbsp; The true artificer will not run away from Nature as he were
+afraid of her, or depart from life and the likeness of truth, but speak
+to the capacity of his hearers.&nbsp; And though his language differ
+from the vulgar somewhat, it shall not fly from all humanity, with the
+Tamerlanes and Tamer-chains of the late age, which had nothing in them
+but the scenical strutting and furious vociferation to warrant them
+to the ignorant gapers.&nbsp; He knows it is his only art so to carry
+it, as none but artificers perceive it.&nbsp; In the meantime, perhaps,
+he is called barren, dull, lean, a poor writer, or by what contumelious
+word can come in their cheeks, by these men who, without labour, judgment,
+knowledge, or almost sense, are received or preferred before him.&nbsp;
+He gratulates them and their fortune.&nbsp; Another age, or juster men,
+will acknowledge the virtues of his studies, his wisdom in dividing,
+his subtlety in arguing, with what strength he doth inspire his readers,
+with what sweetness he strokes them; in inveighing, what sharpness;
+in jest, what urbanity he uses; how he doth reign in men&rsquo;s affections;
+how invade and break in upon them, and makes their minds like the thing
+he writes.&nbsp; Then in his elocution to behold what word is proper,
+which hath ornaments, which height, what is beautifully translated,
+where figures are fit, which gentle, which strong, to show the composition
+manly; and how he hath avoided faint, obscure, obscene, sordid, humble,
+improper, or effeminate phrase; which is not only praised of the most,
+but commended (which is worse), especially for that it is naught.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Ignorantia anim&aelig;</i>. - I know no disease of the soul but ignorance,
+not of the arts and sciences, but of itself; yet relating to those it
+is a pernicious evil, the darkener of man&rsquo;s life, the disturber
+of his reason, and common confounder of truth, with which a man goes
+groping in the dark, no otherwise than if he were blind.&nbsp; Great
+understandings are most racked and troubled with it; nay, sometimes
+they will rather choose to die than not to know the things they study
+for.&nbsp; Think, then, what an evil it is, and what good the contrary.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Scientia</i>. - Knowledge is the action of the soul and is perfect
+without the senses, as having the seeds of all science and virtue in
+itself; but not without the service of the senses; by these organs the
+soul works: she is a perpetual agent, prompt and subtle; but often flexible
+and erring, entangling herself like a silkworm, but her reason is a
+weapon with two edges, and cuts through.&nbsp; In her indagations oft-times
+new scents put her by, and she takes in errors into her by the same
+conduits she doth truths.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Otium Studiorum.</i> - Ease and relaxation are profitable to all
+studies.&nbsp; The mind is like a bow, the stronger by being unbent.&nbsp;
+But the temper in spirits is all, when to command a man&rsquo;s wit,
+when to favour it.&nbsp; I have known a man vehement on both sides,
+that knew no mean, either to intermit his studies or call upon them
+again.&nbsp; When he hath set himself to writing he would join night
+to day, press upon himself without release, not minding it, till he
+fainted; and when he left off, resolve himself into all sports and looseness
+again, that it was almost a despair to draw him to his book; but once
+got to it, he grew stronger and more earnest by the ease.&nbsp; His
+whole powers were renewed; he would work out of himself what he desired,
+but with such excess as his study could not be ruled; he knew not how
+to dispose his own abilities, or husband them; he was of that immoderate
+power against himself.&nbsp; Nor was he only a strong, but an absolute
+speaker and writer; but his subtlety did not show itself; his judgment
+thought that a vice; for the ambush hurts more that is hid.&nbsp; He
+never forced his language, nor went out of the highway of speaking but
+for some great necessity or apparent profit; for he denied figures to
+be invented for ornament, but for aid; and still thought it an extreme
+madness to bind or wrest that which ought to be right.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Stili eminentia.</i> - <i>Virgil.</i> - <i>Tully.</i> - <i>Sallust.</i>
+- It is no wonder men&rsquo;s eminence appears but in their own way.&nbsp;
+Virgil&rsquo;s felicity left him in prose, as Tully&rsquo;s forsook
+him in verse.&nbsp; Sallust&rsquo;s orations are read in the honour
+of story, yet the most eloquent.&nbsp; Plato&rsquo;s speech, which he
+made for Socrates, is neither worthy of the patron nor the person defended.&nbsp;
+Nay, in the same kind of oratory, and where the matter is one, you shall
+have him that reasons strongly, open negligently; another that prepares
+well, not fit so well.&nbsp; And this happens not only to brains, but
+to bodies.&nbsp; One can wrestle well, another run well, a third leap
+or throw the bar, a fourth lift or stop a cart going; each hath his
+way of strength.&nbsp; So in other creatures - some dogs are for the
+deer, some for the wild boar, some are fox-hounds, some otter-hounds.&nbsp;
+Nor are all horses for the coach or saddle, some are for the cart and
+paniers.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De Claris Oratoribus.</i> - I have known many excellent men that
+would speak suddenly to the admiration of their hearers, who upon study
+and premeditation have been forsaken by their own wits, and no way answered
+their fame; their eloquence was greater than their reading, and the
+things they uttered better than those they knew; their fortune deserved
+better of them than their care.&nbsp; For men of present spirits, and
+of greater wits than study, do please more in the things they invent
+than in those they bring.&nbsp; And I have heard some of them compelled
+to speak, out of necessity, that have so infinitely exceeded themselves,
+as it was better both for them and their auditory that they were so
+surprised, not prepared.&nbsp; Nor was it safe then to cross them, for
+their adversary, their anger made them more eloquent.&nbsp; Yet these
+men I could not but love and admire, that they returned to their studies.&nbsp;
+They left not diligence (as many do) when their rashness prospered;
+for diligence is a great aid, even to an indifferent wit; when we are
+not contented with the examples of our own age, but would know the face
+of the former.&nbsp; Indeed, the more we confer with the more we profit
+by, if the persons be chosen.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Dominus Verulamius</i>. - One, though he be excellent and the chief,
+is not to be imitated alone; for no imitator ever grew up to his author;
+likeness is always on this side truth.&nbsp; Yet there happened in my
+time one noble speaker who was full of gravity in his speaking; his
+language (where he could spare or pass by a jest) was nobly censorious.&nbsp;
+No man ever spake more neatly, more pressly, more weightily, or suffered
+less emptiness, less idleness, in what he uttered.&nbsp; No member of
+his speech but consisted of his own graces.&nbsp; His hearers could
+not cough, or look aside from him, without loss.&nbsp; He commanded
+where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his devotion.&nbsp;
+No man had their affections more in his power.&nbsp; The fear of every
+man that heard him was lest he should make an end.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Scriptorum catalogus</i>. <a name="citation59a"></a><a href="#footnote59a">{59a}</a>&nbsp;
+Cicero is said to be the only wit that the people of Rome had equalled
+to their empire.&nbsp; <i>Ingenium par imperio</i>.&nbsp; We have had
+many, and in their several ages (to take in but the former <i>seculum</i>)
+Sir Thomas More, the elder Wiat, Henry Earl of Surrey, Chaloner, Smith,
+Eliot, B. Gardiner, were for their times admirable; and the more, because
+they began eloquence with us.&nbsp; Sir Nicolas Bacon was singular,
+and almost alone, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth&rsquo;s time.&nbsp;
+Sir Philip Sidney and Mr. Hooker (in different matter) grew great masters
+of wit and language, and in whom all vigour of invention and strength
+of judgment met.&nbsp; The Earl of Essex, noble and high; and Sir Walter
+Raleigh, not to be contemned, either for judgment or style.&nbsp; Sir
+Henry Savile, grave, and truly lettered; Sir Edwin Sandys, excellent
+in both; Lord Egerton, the Chancellor, a grave and great orator, and
+best when he was provoked; but his learned and able (though unfortunate)
+successor is he who hath filled up all numbers, and performed that in
+our tongue which may be compared or preferred either to insolent Greece
+or haughty Rome.&nbsp; In short, within his view, and about his times,
+were all the wits born that could honour a language or help study.&nbsp;
+Now things daily fall, wits grow downward, and eloquence grows backward;
+so that he may be named and stand as the mark and &alpha;&kappa;&mu;&eta;<i>
+</i>of our language.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De augmentis scientiarum.</i> - <i>Julius C&aelig;sar.</i> - <i>Lord
+St. Alban</i>. - I have ever observed it to have been the office of
+a wise patriot, among the greatest affairs of the State, to take care
+of the commonwealth of learning.&nbsp; For schools, they are the seminaries
+of State; and nothing is worthier the study of a statesman than that
+part of the republic which we call the advancement of letters.&nbsp;
+Witness the care of Julius C&aelig;sar, who, in the heat of the civil
+war, writ his books of Analogy, and dedicated them to Tully.&nbsp; This
+made the late Lord St. Alban entitle his work <i>Novum Organum; </i>which,
+though by the most of superficial men, who cannot get beyond the title
+of nominals, it is not penetrated nor understood, it really openeth
+all defects of learning whatsoever, and is a book<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Qui longum note scriptori proroget &aelig;vum.&rdquo; <a name="citation62a"></a><a href="#footnote62a">{62a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place
+or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was
+only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me ever, by his work, one
+of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had been in
+many ages.&nbsp; In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give
+him strength; for greatness he could not want.&nbsp; Neither could I
+condole in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could
+do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De corruptela morum</i>. - There cannot be one colour of the mind,
+another of the wit.&nbsp; If the mind be staid, grave, and composed,
+the wit is so; that vitiated, the other is blown and deflowered.&nbsp;
+Do we not see, if the mind languish, the members are dull?&nbsp; Look
+upon an effeminate person, his very gait confesseth him.&nbsp; If a
+man be fiery, his motion is so; if angry, it is troubled and violent.&nbsp;
+So that we may conclude wheresoever manners and fashions are corrupted,
+language is.&nbsp; It imitates the public riot.&nbsp; The excess of
+feasts and apparel are the notes of a sick state, and the wantonness
+of language of a sick mind.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De rebus mundanis</i>. - If we would consider what our affairs are
+indeed, not what they are called, we should find more evils belonging
+to us than happen to us.&nbsp; How often doth that which was called
+a calamity prove the beginning and cause of a man&rsquo;s happiness?
+and, on the contrary, that which happened or came to another with great
+gratulation and applause, how it hath lifted him but a step higher to
+his ruin? as if he stood before where he might fall safely.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Vulgi mores.</i> - <i>Morbus comitialis.</i> - The vulgar are commonly
+ill-natured, and always grudging against their governors: which makes
+that a prince has more business and trouble with them than ever Hercules
+had with the bull or any other beast; by how much they have more heads
+than will be reined with one bridle.&nbsp; There was not that variety
+of beasts in the ark, as is of beastly natures in the multitude; especially
+when they come to that iniquity to censure their sovereign&rsquo;s actions.&nbsp;
+Then all the counsels are made good or bad by the events; and it falleth
+out that the same facts receive from them the names, now of diligence,
+now of vanity, now of majesty, now of fury; where they ought wholly
+to hang on his mouth, as he to consist of himself, and not others&rsquo;
+counsels.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Princeps.</i> - After God, nothing is to be loved of man like the
+prince; he violates Nature that doth it not with his whole heart.&nbsp;
+For when he hath put on the care of the public good and common safety,
+I am a wretch, and put off man, if I do not reverence and honour him,
+in whose charge all things divine and human are placed.&nbsp; Do but
+ask of Nature why all living creatures are less delighted with meat
+and drink that sustains them than with venery that wastes them? and
+she will tell thee, the first respects but a private, the other a common
+good, propagation.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De eodem.</i> - <i>Orpheus&rsquo; Hymn.</i> - He is the arbiter of
+life and death: when he finds no other subject for his mercy, he should
+spare himself.&nbsp; All his punishments are rather to correct than
+to destroy.&nbsp; Why are prayers with Orpheus said to be the daughters
+of Jupiter, but that princes are thereby admonished that the petitions
+of the wretched ought to have more weight with them than the laws themselves.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De opt. Rege Jacobo</i>. - It was a great accumulation to His Majesty&rsquo;s
+deserved praise that men might openly visit and pity those whom his
+greatest prisons had at any time received or his laws condemned.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De Princ. adjunctis.</i> - <i>Sed ver&egrave; prudens haud concipi
+possit Princeps</i>,<i> nisi simul et bonus.</i> - <i>Lycurgus.</i>
+- <i>Sylla.</i> - <i>Lysander.</i> - <i>Cyrus.</i> - Wise is rather
+the attribute of a prince than learned or good.&nbsp; The learned man
+profits others rather than himself; the good man rather himself than
+others; but the prince commands others, and doth himself.<br>
+<br>
+The wise Lycurgus gave no law but what himself kept.&nbsp; Sylla and
+Lysander did not so; the one living extremely dissolute himself, enforced
+frugality by the laws; the other permitted those licenses to others
+which himself abstained from.&nbsp; But the prince&rsquo;s prudence
+is his chief art and safety.&nbsp; In his counsels and deliberations
+he foresees the future times: in the equity of his judgment he hath
+remembrance of the past, and knowledge of what is to be done or avoided
+for the present.&nbsp; Hence the Persians gave out their Cyrus to have
+been nursed by a bitch, a creature to encounter it, as of sagacity to
+seek out good; showing that wisdom may accompany fortitude, or it leaves
+to be, and puts on the name of rashness.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De malign. studentium</i>. - There be some men are born only to suck
+out the poison of books: <i>Habent venenum pro victu</i>;<i> im&ocirc;</i>,<i>
+pro deliciis</i>. <a name="citation66a"></a><a href="#footnote66a">{66a}</a>&nbsp;
+And such are they that only relish the obscene and foul things in poets,
+which makes the profession taxed.&nbsp; But by whom?&nbsp; Men that
+watch for it; and, had they not had this hint, are so unjust valuers
+of letters as they think no learning good but what brings in gain.&nbsp;
+It shows they themselves would never have been of the professions they
+are but for the profits and fees.&nbsp; But if another learning, well
+used, can instruct to good life, inform manners, no less persuade and
+lead men than they threaten and compel, and have no reward, is it therefore
+the worst study?&nbsp; I could never think the study of wisdom confined
+only to the philosopher, or of piety to the divine, or of state to the
+politic; but that he which can feign a commonwealth (which is the poet)
+can govern it with counsels, strengthen it with laws, correct it with
+judgments, inform it with religion and morals, is all these.&nbsp; We
+do not require in him mere elocution, or an excellent faculty in verse,
+but the exact knowledge of all virtues and their contraries, with ability
+to render the one loved, the other hated, by his proper embattling them.&nbsp;
+The philosophers did insolently, to challenge only to themselves that
+which the greatest generals and gravest counsellors never durst.&nbsp;
+For such had rather do than promise the best things.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Controvers. scriptores.</i> - <i>More Andabatarum qui clausis oculis
+pugnant.</i> <i>- </i>Some controverters in divinity are like swaggerers
+in a tavern that catch that which stands next them, the candlestick
+or pots; turn everything into a weapon: ofttimes they fight blindfold,
+and both beat the air.&nbsp; The one milks a he-goat, the other holds
+under a sieve.&nbsp; Their arguments are as fluxive as liquor spilt
+upon a table, which with your finger you may drain as you will.&nbsp;
+Such controversies or disputations (carried with more labour than profit)
+are odious; where most times the truth is lost in the midst or left
+untouched.&nbsp; And the fruit of their fight is, that they spit one
+upon another, and are both defiled.&nbsp; These fencers in religion
+I like not.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Morbi.</i> - The body hath certain diseases that are with less evil
+tolerated than removed.&nbsp; As if to cure a leprosy a man should bathe
+himself with the warm blood of a murdered child, so in the Church some
+errors may be dissimuled with less inconvenience than they can be discovered.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Jactantia intempestiva.</i> - Men that talk of their own benefits
+are not believed to talk of them because they have done them; but to
+have done them because they might talk of them.&nbsp; That which had
+been great, if another had reported it of them, vanisheth, and is nothing,
+if he that did it speak of it.&nbsp; For men, when they cannot destroy
+the deed, will yet be glad to take advantage of the boasting, and lessen
+it.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Adulatio.</i> - I have seen that poverty makes me do unfit things;
+but honest men should not do them; they should gain otherwise.&nbsp;
+Though a man be hungry, he should not play the parasite.&nbsp; That
+hour wherein I would repent me to be honest, there were ways enough
+open for me to be rich.&nbsp; But flattery is a fine pick-lock of tender
+ears; especially of those whom fortune hath borne high upon their wings,
+that submit their dignity and authority to it, by a soothing of themselves.&nbsp;
+For, indeed, men could never be taken in that abundance with the springes
+of others&rsquo; flattery, if they began not there; if they did but
+remember how much more profitable the bitterness of truth were, than
+all the honey distilling from a whorish voice, which is not praise,
+but poison.&nbsp; But now it is come to that extreme folly, or rather
+madness, with some, that he that flatters them modestly or sparingly
+is thought to malign them.&nbsp; If their friend consent not to their
+vices, though he do not contradict them, he is nevertheless an enemy.&nbsp;
+When they do all things the worst way, even then they look for praise.&nbsp;
+Nay, they will hire fellows to flatter them with suits and suppers,
+and to prostitute their judgments.&nbsp; They have livery-friends, friends
+of the dish, and of the spit, that wait their turns, as my lord has
+his feasts and guests.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De vit&acirc; human&acirc;</i>. - I have considered our whole life
+is like a play: wherein every man forgetful of himself, is in travail
+with expression of another.&nbsp; Nay, we so insist in imitating others,
+as we cannot when it is necessary return to ourselves; like children,
+that imitate the vices of stammerers so long, till at last they become
+such; and make the habit to another nature, as it is never forgotten.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De piis et probis.</i> - Good<i> </i>men are the stars, the planets
+of the ages wherein they live and illustrate the times.&nbsp; God did
+never let them be wanting to the world: as Abel, for an example of innocency,
+Enoch of purity, Noah of trust in God&rsquo;s mercies, Abraham of faith,
+and so of the rest.&nbsp; These, sensual men thought mad because they
+would not be partakers or practisers of their madness.&nbsp; But they,
+placed high on the top of all virtue, looked down on the stage of the
+world and contemned the play of fortune.&nbsp; For though the most be
+players, some must be spectators.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Mores aulici</i>. - I have discovered that a feigned familiarity
+in great ones is a note of certain usurpation on the less.&nbsp; For
+great and popular men feign themselves to be servants to others to make
+those slaves to them.&nbsp; So the fisher provides bait for the trout,
+roach, dace, &amp;c., that they may be food to him.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Impiorum querela.</i> - <i>Augusties.</i> - <i>Varus.</i> - <i>Tiberius</i>.
+- The complaint of Caligula was most wicked of the condition of his
+times, when he said they were not famous for any public calamity, as
+the reign of Augustus was, by the defeat of Varus and the legions; and
+that of Tiberius, by the falling of the theatre at Fiden&aelig;; whilst
+his oblivion was eminent through the prosperity of his affairs.&nbsp;
+As that other voice of his was worthier a headsman than a head when
+he wished the people of Rome had but one neck.&nbsp; But he found when
+he fell they had many hands.&nbsp; A tyrant, how great and mighty soever
+he may seem to cowards and sluggards, is but one creature, one animal.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Nobilium ingenia</i>. - I have marked among the nobility some are
+so addicted to the service of the prince and commonwealth, as they look
+not for spoil; such are to be honoured and loved.&nbsp; There are others
+which no obligation will fasten on; and they are of two sorts.&nbsp;
+The first are such as love their own ease; or, out of vice, of nature,
+or self-direction, avoid business and care.&nbsp; Yet these the prince
+may use with safety.&nbsp; The other remove themselves upon craft and
+design, as the architects say, with a premeditated thought, to their
+own rather than their prince&rsquo;s profit.&nbsp; Such let the prince
+take heed of, and not doubt to reckon in the list of his open enemies.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Principum. varia.</i> - <i>Firmissima ver&ograve; omnium basis jus
+h&aelig;reditarium Principis.</i> - There is a great variation between
+him that is raised to the sovereignty by the favour of his peers and
+him that comes to it by the suffrage of the people.&nbsp; The first
+holds with more difficulty, because he hath to do with many that think
+themselves his equals, and raised him for their own greatness and oppression
+of the rest.&nbsp; The latter hath no upbraiders, but was raised by
+them that sought to be defended from oppression: whose end is both easier
+and the honester to satisfy.&nbsp; Beside, while he hath the people
+to friend, who are a multitude, he hath the less fear of the nobility,
+who are but few.&nbsp; Nor let the common proverb (of he that builds
+on the people builds on the dirt) discredit my opinion: for that hath
+only place where an ambitious and private person, for some popular end,
+trusts in them against the public justice and magistrate.&nbsp; There
+they will leave him.&nbsp; But when a prince governs them, so as they
+have still need of his administrations (for that is his art), he shall
+ever make and hold them faithful.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Clementia.</i> - <i>Machiavell</i>. - A prince should exercise his
+cruelty not by himself but by his ministers; so he may save himself
+and his dignity with his people by sacrificing those when he list, saith
+the great doctor of state, Machiavell.&nbsp; But I say he puts off man
+and goes into a beast, that is cruel.&nbsp; No virtue is a prince&rsquo;s
+own, or becomes him more, than this clemency: and no glory is greater
+than to be able to save with his power.&nbsp; Many punishments sometimes,
+and in some cases, as much discredit a prince, as many funerals a physician.&nbsp;
+The state of things is secured by clemency; severity represseth a few,
+but irritates more. <a name="citation74a"></a><a href="#footnote74a">{74a}</a>&nbsp;
+The lopping of trees makes the boughs shoot out thicker; and the taking
+away of some kind of enemies increaseth the number.&nbsp; It is then
+most gracious in a prince to pardon when many about him would make him
+cruel; to think then how much he can save when others tell him how much
+he can destroy; not to consider what the impotence of others hath demolished,
+but what his own greatness can sustain.&nbsp; These are a prince&rsquo;s
+virtues: and they that give him other counsels are but the hangman&rsquo;s
+factors.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Clementia tutela optima.</i> - He<i> </i>that is cruel to halves
+(saith the said St. Nicholas <a name="citation74b"></a><a href="#footnote74b">{74b}</a>)
+loseth no less the opportunity of his cruelty than of his benefits:
+for then to use his cruelty is too late; and to use his favours will
+be interpreted fear and necessity, and so he loseth the thanks.&nbsp;
+Still the counsel is cruelty.&nbsp; But princes, by hearkening to cruel
+counsels, become in time obnoxious to the authors, their flatterers,
+and ministers; and are brought to that, that when they would, they dare
+not change them; they must go on and defend cruelty with cruelty; they
+cannot alter the habit.&nbsp; It is then grown necessary, they must
+be as ill as those have made them: and in the end they will grow more
+hateful to themselves than to their subjects.&nbsp; Whereas, on the
+contrary, the merciful prince is safe in love, not in fear.&nbsp; He
+needs no emissaries, spies, intelligencers to entrap true subjects.&nbsp;
+He fears no libels, no treasons.&nbsp; His people speak what they think,
+and talk openly what they do in secret.&nbsp; They have nothing in their
+breasts that they need a cypher for.&nbsp; He is guarded with his own
+benefits.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Religio.&nbsp; Palladium Homeri.</i> - <i>Euripides.</i> - The strength
+of empire is in religion.&nbsp; What else is the Palladium (with Homer)
+that kept Troy so long from sacking?&nbsp; Nothing more commends the
+Sovereign to the subject than it.&nbsp; For he that is religious must
+be merciful and just necessarily: and they are two strong ties upon
+mankind.&nbsp; Justice the virtue that innocence rejoiceth in.&nbsp;
+Yet even that is not always so safe, but it may love to stand in the
+sight of mercy.&nbsp; For sometimes misfortune is made a crime, and
+then innocence is succoured no less than virtue.&nbsp; Nay, oftentimes
+virtue is made capital; and through the condition of the times it may
+happen that that may be punished with our praise.&nbsp; Let no man therefore
+murmur at the actions of the prince, who is placed so far above him.&nbsp;
+If he offend, he hath his discoverer.&nbsp; God hath a height beyond
+him.&nbsp; But where the prince is good, Euripides saith, &ldquo;God
+is a guest in a human body.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<i>Tyranni.</i> - <i>Sejanus.</i> - There is nothing with some princes
+sacred above their majesty, or profane, but what violates their sceptres.&nbsp;
+But a prince, with such a council, is like the god Terminus, of stone,
+his own landmark, or (as it is in the fable) a crowned lion.&nbsp; It
+is dangerous offending such a one, who, being angry, knows not how to
+forgive; that cares not to do anything for maintaining or enlarging
+of empire; kills not men or subjects, but destroyeth whole countries,
+armies, mankind, male and female, guilty or not guilty, holy or profane;
+yea, some that have not seen the light.&nbsp; All is under the law of
+their spoil and licence.&nbsp; But princes that neglect their proper
+office thus their fortune is oftentimes to draw a Sejanus to be near
+about them, who at last affect to get above them, and put them in a
+worthy fear of rooting both them out and their family.&nbsp; For no
+men hate an evil prince more than they that helped to make him such.&nbsp;
+And none more boastingly weep his ruin than they that procured and practised
+it.&nbsp; The same path leads to ruin which did to rule when men profess
+a licence in government.&nbsp; A good king is a public servant.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Illiteratus princeps.</i> - A prince without letters is a pilot without
+eyes.&nbsp; All his government is groping.&nbsp; In sovereignty it is
+a most happy thing not to be compelled; but so it is the most miserable
+not to be counselled.&nbsp; And how can he be counselled that cannot
+see to read the best counsellors (which are books), for they neither
+flatter us nor hide from us?&nbsp; He may hear, you will say; but how
+shall he always be sure to hear truth, or be counselled the best things,
+not the sweetest?&nbsp; They say princes learn no art truly but the
+art of horsemanship.&nbsp; The reason is the brave beast is no flatterer.&nbsp;
+He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.&nbsp; Which is an argument
+that the good counsellors to princes are the best instruments of a good
+age.&nbsp; For though the prince himself be of a most prompt inclination
+to all virtue, yet the best pilots have needs of mariners besides sails,
+anchor, and other tackle.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Character principis.</i> - <i>Alexander magnus.</i> - If men did
+know what shining fetters, gilded miseries, and painted happiness thrones
+and sceptres were there would not be so frequent strife about the getting
+or holding of them; there would be more principalities than princes;
+for a prince is the pastor of the people.&nbsp; He ought to shear, not
+to flay his sheep; to take their fleeces, not their the soul of the
+commonwealth, and ought to cherish it as his own body.&nbsp; Alexander
+the Great was wont to say, &ldquo;He hated that gardener that plucked
+his herbs or flowers up by the roots.&rdquo;&nbsp; A man may milk a
+beast till the blood come; churn milk and it yieldeth butter, but wring
+the nose and the blood followeth.&nbsp; He is an ill prince that so
+pulls his subjects&rsquo; feathers as he would not have them grow again;
+that makes his exchequer a receipt for the spoils of those he governs.&nbsp;
+No, let him keep his own, not affect his subjects&rsquo;; strive rather
+to be called just than powerful.&nbsp; Not, like the Roman tyrants,
+affect the surnames that grow by human slaughters; neither to seek war
+in peace, nor peace in war, but to observe faith given, though to an
+enemy.&nbsp; Study piety toward the subject; show care to defend him.&nbsp;
+Be slow to punish in divers cases, but be a sharp and severe revenger
+of open crimes.&nbsp; Break no decrees or dissolve no orders to slacken
+the strength of laws.&nbsp; Choose neither magistrates, civil or ecclesiastical,
+by favour or price; but with long disquisition and report of their worth
+by all suffrages.&nbsp; Sell no honours, nor give them hastily, but
+bestow them with counsel and for reward; if he do, acknowledge it (though
+late), and mend it.&nbsp; For princes are easy to be deceived; and what
+wisdom can escape where so many court-arts are studied?&nbsp; But, above
+all, the prince is to remember that when the great day of account comes,
+which neither magistrate nor prince can shun, there will be required
+of him a reckoning for those whom he hath trusted, as for himself, which
+he must provide.&nbsp; And if piety be wanting in the priests, equity
+in the judges, or the magistrates be found rated at a price, what justice
+or religion is to be expected? which are the only two attributes make
+kings akin to God, and is the Delphic sword, both to kill sacrifices
+and to chastise offenders.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De gratiosis</i>. - When a virtuous man is raised, it brings gladness
+to his friends, grief to his enemies, and glory to his posterity.&nbsp;
+Nay, his honours are a great part of the honour of the times; when by
+this means he is grown to active men an example, to the slothful a spur,
+to the envious a punishment.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Divites. - Heredes ex asse</i>.&nbsp; He which is sole heir to many
+rich men, having (besides his father&rsquo;s and uncle&rsquo;s) the
+estates of divers his kindred come to him by accession, must needs be
+richer than father or grandfather; so they which are left heirs <i>ex
+asse </i>of all their ancestors&rsquo; vices, and by their good husbandry
+improve the old and daily purchase new, must needs be wealthier in vice,
+and have a greater revenue or stock of ill to spend on.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Fures publici.</i> - The great thieves of a state are lightly the
+officers of the crown; they hang the less still, play the pikes in the
+pond, eat whom they list.&nbsp; The net was never spread for the hawk
+or buzzard that hurt us, but the harmless birds; they are good meat:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas.&rdquo; <a name="citation81a"></a><a href="#footnote81a">{81a}</a><br>
+&ldquo;Non rete accipitri tenditur, neque milvio.&rdquo; <a name="citation81b"></a><a href="#footnote81b">{81b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Lewis XI.</i> - But<i> </i>they are not always safe though, especially
+when they meet with wise masters.&nbsp; They can take down all the huff
+and swelling of their looks, and like dexterous auditors place the counter
+where he shall value nothing.&nbsp; Let them but remember Lewis XI.,
+who to a Clerk of the Exchequer that came to be Lord Treasurer, and
+had (for his device) represented himself sitting on fortune&rsquo;s
+wheel, told him he might do well to fasten it with a good strong nail,
+lest, turning about, it might bring him where he was again.&nbsp; As
+indeed it did.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De bonis et malis.</i> - <i>De innocenti&acirc;</i>. - A good man
+will avoid the spot of any sin.&nbsp; The very aspersion is grievous,
+which makes him choose his way in his life as he would in his journey.&nbsp;
+The ill man rides through all confidently; he is coated and booted for
+it.&nbsp; The oftener he offends, the more openly, and the fouler, the
+fitter in fashion.&nbsp; His modesty, like a riding-coat, the more it
+is worn is the less cared for.&nbsp; It is good enough for the dirt
+still, and the ways he travels in.&nbsp; An innocent man needs no eloquence,
+his innocence is instead of it, else I had never come off so many times
+from these precipices, whither men&rsquo;s malice hath pursued me.&nbsp;
+It is true I have been accused to the lords, to the king, and by great
+ones, but it happened my accusers had not thought of the accusation
+with themselves, and so were driven, for want of crimes, to use invention,
+which was found slander, or too late (being entered so fair) to seek
+starting-holes for their rashness, which were not given them.&nbsp;
+And then they may think what accusation that was like to prove, when
+they that were the engineers feared to be the authors.&nbsp; Nor were
+they content to feign things against me, but to urge things, feigned
+by the ignorant, against my profession, which though, from their hired
+and mercenary impudence, I might have passed by as granted to a nation
+of barkers that let out their tongues to lick others&rsquo; sores; yet
+I durst not leave myself undefended, having a pair of ears unskilful
+to hear lies, or have those things said of me which I could truly prove
+of them.&nbsp; They objected making of verses to me, when I could object
+to most of them, their not being able to read them, but as worthy of
+scorn.&nbsp; Nay, they would offer to urge mine own writings against
+me, but by pieces (which was an excellent way of malice), as if any
+man&rsquo;s context might not seem dangerous and offensive, if that
+which was knit to what went before were defrauded of his beginning;
+or that things by themselves uttered might not seem subject to calumny,
+which read entire would appear most free.&nbsp; At last they upbraided
+my poverty: I confess she is my domestic; sober of diet, simple of habit,
+frugal, painful, a good counseller to me, that keeps me from cruelty,
+pride, or other more delicate impertinences, which are the nurse-children
+of riches.&nbsp; But let them look over all the great and monstrous
+wickednesses, they shall never find those in poor families.&nbsp; They
+are the issue of the wealthy giants and the mighty hunters, whereas
+no great work, or worthy of praise or memory, but came out of poor cradles.&nbsp;
+It was the ancient poverty that founded commonweals, built cities, invented
+arts, made wholesome laws, armed men against vices, rewarded them with
+their own virtues, and preserved the honour and state of nations, till
+they betrayed themselves to riches.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Amor nummi</i>. - Money never made any man rich, but his mind.&nbsp;
+He that can order himself to the law of Nature is not only without the
+sense but the fear of poverty.&nbsp; O! but to strike blind the people
+with our wealth and pomp is the thing!&nbsp; What a wretchedness is
+this, to thrust all our riches outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate
+nothing but the little, vile, and sordid things of the world; not the
+great, noble, and precious!&nbsp; We serve our avarice, and, not content
+with the good of the earth that is offered us, we search and dig for
+the evil that is hidden.&nbsp; God offered us those things, and placed
+them at hand, and near us, that He knew were profitable for us, but
+the hurtful He laid deep and hid.&nbsp; Yet do we seek only the things
+whereby we may perish, and bring them forth, when God and Nature hath
+buried them.&nbsp; We covet superfluous things, when it were more honour
+for us if we would contemn necessary.&nbsp; What need hath Nature of
+silver dishes, multitudes of waiters, delicate pages, perfumed napkins?&nbsp;
+She requires meat only, and hunger is not ambitious.&nbsp; Can we think
+no wealth enough but such a state for which a man may be brought into
+a premunire, begged, proscribed, or poisoned?&nbsp; O! if a man could
+restrain the fury of his gullet and groin, and think how many fires,
+how many kitchens, cooks, pastures, and ploughed lands; what orchards,
+stews, ponds and parks, coops and garners, he could spare; what velvets,
+tissues, embroideries, laces, he could lack; and then how short and
+uncertain his life is; he were in a better way to happiness than to
+live the emperor of these delights, and be the dictator of fashions;
+but we make ourselves slaves to our pleasures, and we serve fame and
+ambition, which is an equal slavery.&nbsp; Have not I seen the pomp
+of a whole kingdom, and what a foreign king could bring hither?&nbsp;
+Also to make himself gazed and wondered at - laid forth, as it were,
+to the show - and vanish all away in a day?&nbsp; And shall that which
+could not fill the expectation of few hours, entertain and take up our
+whole lives, when even it appeared as superfluous to the possessors
+as to me that was a spectator?&nbsp; The bravery was shown, it was not
+possessed; while it boasted itself it perished.&nbsp; It is vile, and
+a poor thing to place our happiness on these desires.&nbsp; Say we wanted
+them all.&nbsp; Famine ends famine.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De mollibus et eff&oelig;minatis</i>. - There is nothing valiant
+or solid to be hoped for from such as are always kempt and perfumed,
+and every day smell of the tailor; the exceedingly curious that are
+wholly in mending such an imperfection in the face, in taking away the
+morphew in the neck, or bleaching their hands at midnight, gumming and
+bridling their beards, or making the waist small, binding it with hoops,
+while the mind runs at waste; too much pickedness is not manly.&nbsp;
+Not from those that will jest at their own outward imperfections, but
+hide their ulcers within, their pride, lust, envy, ill-nature, with
+all the art and authority they can.&nbsp; These persons are in danger,
+for whilst they think to justify their ignorance by impudence, and their
+persons by clothes and outward ornaments, they use but a commission
+to deceive themselves: where, if we will look with our understanding,
+and not our senses, we may behold virtue and beauty (though covered
+with rags) in their brightness; and vice and deformity so much the fouler,
+in having all the splendour of riches to gild them, or the false light
+of honour and power to help them.&nbsp; Yet this is that wherewith the
+world is taken, and runs mad to gaze on - clothes and titles, the birdlime
+of fools.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De stultiti&acirc;</i>. - What petty things they are we wonder at,
+like children that esteem every trifle, and prefer a fairing before
+their fathers!&nbsp; What difference is between us and them but that
+we are dearer fools, coxcombs at a higher rate?&nbsp; They are pleased
+with cockleshells, whistles, hobby-horses, and such like; we with statues,
+marble pillars, pictures, gilded roofs, where underneath is lath and
+lime, perhaps loam.&nbsp; Yet we take pleasure in the lie, and are glad
+we can cozen ourselves.&nbsp; Nor is it only in our walls and ceilings,
+but all that we call happiness is mere painting and gilt, and all for
+money.&nbsp; What a thin membrane of honour that is! and how hath all
+true reputation fallen, since money began to have any!&nbsp; Yet the
+great herd, the multitude, that in all other things are divided, in
+this alone conspire and agree - to love money.&nbsp; They wish for it,
+they embrace it, they adore it, while yet it is possessed with greater
+stir and torment than it is gotten.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De sibi molestis</i>. - Some men what losses soever they have they
+make them greater, and if they have none, even all that is not gotten
+is a loss.&nbsp; Can there be creatures of more wretched condition than
+these, that continually labour under their own misery and others&rsquo;
+envy?&nbsp; A man should study other things, not to covet, not to fear,
+not to repent him; to make his base such as no tempest shall shake him;
+to be secure of all opinion, and pleasing to himself, even for that
+wherein he displeaseth others; for the worst opinion gotten for doing
+well, should delight us.&nbsp; Wouldst not thou be just but for fame,
+thou oughtest to be it with infamy; he that would have his virtue published
+is not the servant of virtue, but glory.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Periculosa melancholia.</i> - It<i> </i>is a dangerous thing when
+men&rsquo;s minds come to sojourn with their affections, and their diseases
+eat into their strength; that when too much desire and greediness of
+vice hath made the body unfit, or unprofitable, it is yet gladded with
+the sight and spectacle of it in others; and for want of ability to
+be an actor, is content to be a witness.&nbsp; It enjoys the pleasure
+of sinning in beholding others sin, as in dining, drinking, drabbing,
+&amp;c.&nbsp; Nay, when it cannot do all these, it is offended with
+his own narrowness, that excludes it from the universal delights of
+mankind, and oftentimes dies of a melancholy, that it cannot be vicious
+enough.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Fals&aelig; species fugiend&aelig;.</i> - I am glad when I see any
+man avoid the infamy of a vice; but to shun the vice itself were better.&nbsp;
+Till he do that he is but like the &lsquo;pientice, who, being loth
+to be spied by his master coming forth of Black Lucy&rsquo;s, went in
+again; to whom his master cried, &ldquo;The more thou runnest that way
+to hide thyself, the more thou art in the place.&rdquo;&nbsp; So are
+those that keep a tavern all day, that they may not be seen at night.&nbsp;
+I have known lawyers, divines - yea, great ones - of this heresy.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Decipimur specie</i>. - There is a greater reverence had of things
+remote or strange to us than of much better if they be nearer and fall
+under our sense.&nbsp; Men, and almost all sorts of creatures, have
+their reputation by distance.&nbsp; Rivers, the farther they run, and
+more from their spring, the broader they are, and greater.&nbsp; And
+where our original is known, we are less the confident; among strangers
+we trust fortune.&nbsp; Yet a man may live as renowned at home, in his
+own country, or a private village, as in the whole world.&nbsp; For
+it is virtue that gives glory; that will endenizen a man everywhere.&nbsp;
+It is only that can naturalise him.&nbsp; A native, if he be vicious,
+deserves to be a stranger, and cast out of the commonwealth as an alien.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Dejectio Aulic.</i> - A dejected countenance and mean clothes beget
+often a contempt, but it is with the shallowest creatures; courtiers
+commonly: look up even with them in a new suit, you get above them straight.&nbsp;
+Nothing is more short-lived than pride; it is but while their clothes
+last: stay but while these are worn out, you cannot wish the thing more
+wretched or dejected.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Poesis</i>,<i> et pictura.</i> - <i>Plutarch.&nbsp; </i>Poetry and
+picture are arts of a like nature, and both are busy about imitation.&nbsp;
+It was excellently said of Plutarch, poetry was a speaking picture,
+and picture a mute poesy.&nbsp; For they both invent, feign and devise
+many things, and accommodate all they invent to the use and service
+of Nature.&nbsp; Yet of the two, the pen is more noble than the pencil;
+for that can speak to the understanding, the other but to the sense.&nbsp;
+They both behold pleasure and profit as their common object; but should
+abstain from all base pleasures, lest they should err from their end,
+and, while they seek to better men&rsquo;s minds, destroy their manners.&nbsp;
+They both are born artificers, not made.&nbsp; Nature is more powerful
+in them than study.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De pictura</i>. - Whosoever loves not picture is injurious to truth
+and all the wisdom of poetry.&nbsp; Picture is the invention of heaven,
+the most ancient and most akin to Nature.&nbsp; It is itself a silent
+work, and always of one and the same habit; yet it doth so enter and
+penetrate the inmost affection (being done by an excellent artificer)
+as sometimes it overcomes the power of speech and oratory.&nbsp; There
+are divers graces in it, so are there in the artificers.&nbsp; One excels
+in care, another in reason, a third in easiness, a fourth in nature
+and grace.&nbsp; Some have diligence and comeliness, but they want majesty.&nbsp;
+They can express a human form in all the graces, sweetness, and elegancy,
+but, they miss the authority.&nbsp; They can hit nothing but smooth
+cheeks; they cannot express roughness or gravity.&nbsp; Others aspire
+to truth so much as they are rather lovers of likeness than beauty.&nbsp;
+Zeuxis and Parrhasius are said to be contemporaries; the first found
+out the reason of lights and shadows in picture, the other more subtlely
+examined the line.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De stylo.</i> - <i>Pliny.</i> - In picture light is required no less
+than shadow; so in style, height as well as humbleness.&nbsp; But beware
+they be not too humble, as Pliny pronounced of Regulus&rsquo;s writings.&nbsp;
+You would think them written, not on a child, but by a child.&nbsp;
+Many, out of their own obscene apprehensions, refuse proper and fit
+words - as occupy, Nature, and the like; so the curious industry in
+some, of having all alike good, hath come nearer a vice than a virtue.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De progres. pictur&aelig;</i>. <a name="citation93"></a><a href="#footnote93">{93}</a>&nbsp;
+Picture took her feigning from poetry; from geometry her rule, compass,
+lines, proportion, and the whole symmetry.&nbsp; Parrhasius was the
+first won reputation by adding symmetry to picture; he added subtlety
+to the countenance, elegancy to the hair, love-lines to the face, and
+by the public voice of all artificers, deserved honour in the outer
+lines.&nbsp; Eupompus gave it splendour by numbers and other elegancies.&nbsp;
+From the optics it drew reasons, by which it considered how things placed
+at distance and afar off should appear less; how above or beneath the
+head should deceive the eye, &amp;c.&nbsp; So from thence it took shadows,
+recessor, light, and heightnings.&nbsp; From moral philosophy it took
+the soul, the expression of senses, perturbations, manners, when they
+would paint an angry person, a proud, an inconstant, an ambitious, a
+brave, a magnanimous, a just, a merciful, a compassionate, an humble,
+a dejected, a base, and the like; they made all heightnings bright,
+all shadows dark, all swellings from a plane, all solids from breaking.&nbsp;
+See where he complains of their painting Chim&aelig;ras <a name="citation94"></a><a href="#footnote94">{94}</a>
+(by the vulgar unaptly called grotesque) saying that men who were born
+truly to study and emulate Nature did nothing but make monsters against
+Nature, which Horace so laughed at. <a name="citation95"></a><a href="#footnote95">{95}</a>
+The art plastic was moulding in clay, or potter&rsquo;s earth anciently.&nbsp;
+This is the parent of statuary, sculpture, graving, and picture; cutting
+in brass and marble, all serve under her.&nbsp; Socrates taught Parrhasius
+and Clito (two noble statuaries) first to express manners by their looks
+in imagery.&nbsp; Polygnotus and Aglaophon were ancienter.&nbsp; After
+them Zeuxis, who was the lawgiver to all painters; after, Parrhasius.&nbsp;
+They were contemporaries, and lived both about Philip&rsquo;s time,
+the father of Alexander the Great.&nbsp; There lived in this latter
+age six famous painters in Italy, who were excellent and emulous of
+the ancients - Raphael de Urbino, Michael Angelo Buonarotti, Titian,
+Antony of Correggio, Sebastian of Venice, Julio Romano, and Andrea Sartorio.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Parasiti ad mensam.</i> - These are flatterers for their bread, that
+praise all my oraculous lord does or says, be it true or false; invent
+tales that shall please; make baits for his lordship&rsquo;s ears; and
+if they be not received in what they offer at, they shift a point of
+the compass, and turn their tale, presently tack about, deny what they
+confessed, and confess what they denied; fit their discourse to the
+persons and occasions.&nbsp; What they snatch up and devour at one table,
+utter at another; and grow suspected of the master, hated of the servants,
+while they inquire, and reprehend, and compound, and dilate business
+of the house they have nothing to do with.&nbsp; They praise my lord&rsquo;s
+wine and the sauce he likes; observe the cook and bottle-man; while
+they stand in my lord&rsquo;s favour, speak for a pension for them,
+but pound them to dust upon my lord&rsquo;s least distaste, or change
+of his palate.<br>
+<br>
+How much better is it to be silent, or at least to speak sparingly!
+for it is not enough to speak good, but timely things.&nbsp; If a man
+be asked a question, to answer; but to repeat the question before he
+answer is well, that he be sure to understand it, to avoid absurdity;
+for it is less dishonour to hear imperfectly than to speak imperfectly.&nbsp;
+The ears are excused, the understanding is not.&nbsp; And in things
+unknown to a man, not to give his opinion, lest by the affectation of
+knowing too much he lose the credit he hath, by speaking or knowing
+the wrong way what he utters.&nbsp; Nor seek to get his patron&rsquo;s
+favour by embarking himself in the factions of the family, to inquire
+after domestic simulties, their sports or affections.&nbsp; They are
+an odious and vile kind of creatures, that fly about the house all day,
+and picking up the filth of the house like pies or swallows, carry it
+to their nest (the lord&rsquo;s ears), and oftentimes report the lies
+they have feigned for what they have seen and heard,<br>
+<br>
+<i>Im&ograve; serviles</i>. - These are called instruments of grace
+and power with great persons, but they are indeed the organs of their
+impotency, and marks of weakness.&nbsp; For sufficient lords are able
+to make these discoveries themselves.&nbsp; Neither will an honourable
+person inquire who eats and drinks together, what that man plays, whom
+this man loves, with whom such a one walks, what discourse they hold,
+who sleeps with whom.&nbsp; They are base and servile natures that busy
+themselves about these disquisitions.&nbsp; How often have I seen (and
+worthily) these censors of the family undertaken by some honest rustic
+and cudgelled thriftily!&nbsp; These are commonly the off-scouring and
+dregs of men that do these things, or calumniate others; yet I know
+not truly which is worse - he that maligns all, or that praises all.&nbsp;
+There is as a vice in praising, and as frequent, as in detracting.<br>
+<br>
+It pleased your lordship of late to ask my opinion touching the education
+of your sons, and especially to the advancement of their studies.&nbsp;
+To which, though I returned somewhat for the present, which rather manifested
+a will in me than gave any just resolution to the thing propounded,
+I have upon better cogitation called those aids about me, both of mind
+and memory, which shall venture my thoughts clearer, if not fuller,
+to your lordship&rsquo;s demand.&nbsp; I confess, my lord, they will
+seem but petty and minute things I shall offer to you, being writ for
+children, and of them.&nbsp; But studies have their infancy as well
+as creatures.&nbsp; We see in men even the strongest compositions had
+their beginnings from milk and the cradle; and the wisest tarried sometimes
+about apting their mouths to letters and syllables.&nbsp; In their education,
+therefore, the care must be the greater had of their beginnings, to
+know, examine, and weigh their natures; which, though they be proner
+in some children to some disciplines, yet are they naturally prompt
+to taste all by degrees, and with change.&nbsp; For change is a kind
+of refreshing in studies, and infuseth knowledge by way of recreation.&nbsp;
+Thence the school itself is called a play or game, and all letters are
+so best taught to scholars.&nbsp; They should not be affrighted or deterred
+in their entry, but drawn on with exercise and emulation.&nbsp; A youth
+should not be made to hate study before he know the causes to love it,
+or taste the bitterness before the sweet; but called on and allured,
+entreated and praised - yea, when he deserves it not.&nbsp; For which
+cause I wish them sent to the best school, and a public, which I think
+the best.&nbsp; Your lordship, I fear, hardly hears of that, as willing
+to breed them in your eye and at home, and doubting their manners may
+be corrupted abroad.&nbsp; They are in more danger in your own family,
+among ill servants (allowing they be safe in their schoolmaster), than
+amongst a thousand boys, however immodest.&nbsp; Would we did not spoil
+our own children, and overthrow their manners ourselves by too much
+indulgence!&nbsp; To breed them at home is to breed them in a shade,
+whereas in a school they have the light and heat of the sun.&nbsp; They
+are used and accustomed to things and men.&nbsp; When they come forth
+into the common-wealth, they find nothing new, or to seek.&nbsp; They
+have made their friendships and aids, some to last their age.&nbsp;
+They hear what is commanded to others as well as themselves; much approved,
+much corrected; all which they bring to their own store and use, and
+learn as much as they hear.&nbsp; Eloquence would be but a poor thing
+if we should only converse with singulars, speak but man and man together.&nbsp;
+Therefore I like no private breeding.&nbsp; I would send them where
+their industry should be daily increased by praise, and that kindled
+by emulation.&nbsp; It is a good thing to inflame the mind; and though
+ambition itself be a vice, it is often the cause of great virtue.&nbsp;
+Give me that wit whom praise excites, glory puts on, or disgrace grieves;
+he is to be nourished with ambition, pricked forward with honour, checked
+with reprehension, and never to be suspected of sloth.&nbsp; Though
+he be given to play, it is a sign of spirit and liveliness, so there
+be a mean had of their sports and relaxations.&nbsp; And from the rod
+or ferule I would have them free, as from the menace of them; for it
+is both deformed and servile.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De stylo</i>,<i> et optimo scribendi genere.</i> - For a man to write
+well, there are required three necessaries - to read the best authors,
+observe the best speakers, and much exercise of his own style; in style
+to consider what ought to be written, and after what manner.&nbsp; He
+must first think and excogitate his matter, then choose his words, and
+examine the weight of either.&nbsp; Then take care, in placing and ranking
+both matter and words, that the composition be comely; and to do this
+with diligence and often.&nbsp; No matter how slow the style be at first,
+so it be laboured and accurate; seek the best, and be not glad of the
+froward conceits, or first words, that offer themselves to us; but judge
+of what we invent, and order what we approve.&nbsp; Repeat often what
+we have formerly written; which beside that it helps the consequence,
+and makes the juncture better, it quickens the heat of imagination,
+that often cools in the time of setting down, and gives it new strength,
+as if it grew lustier by the going back; as we see in the contention
+of leaping, they jump farthest that fetch their race largest; or, as
+in throwing a dart or javelin, we force back our arms to make our loose
+the stronger.&nbsp; Yet, if we have a fair gale of wind, I forbid not
+the steering out of our sail, so the favour of the gale deceive us not.&nbsp;
+For all that we invent doth please us in conception of birth, else we
+would never set it down.&nbsp; But the safest is to return to our judgment,
+and handle over again those things the easiness of which might make
+them justly suspected.&nbsp; So did the best writers in their beginnings;
+they imposed upon themselves care and industry; they did nothing rashly:
+they obtained first to write well, and then custom made it easy and
+a habit.&nbsp; By little and little their matter showed itself to them
+more plentifully; their words answered, their composition followed;
+and all, as in a well-ordered family, presented itself in the place.&nbsp;
+So that the sum of all is, ready writing makes not good writing, but
+good writing brings on ready writing yet, when we think we have got
+the faculty, it is even then good to resist it, as to give a horse a
+check sometimes with a bit, which doth not so much stop his course as
+stir his mettle.&nbsp; Again, whether a man&rsquo;s genius is best able
+to reach thither, it should more and more contend, lift and dilate itself,
+as men of low stature raise themselves on their toes, and so ofttimes
+get even, if not eminent.&nbsp; Besides, as it is fit for grown and
+able writers to stand of themselves, and work with their own strength,
+to trust and endeavour by their own faculties, so it is fit for the
+beginner and learner to study others and the best.&nbsp; For the mind
+and memory are more sharply exercised in comprehending another man&rsquo;s
+things than our own; and such as accustom themselves and are familiar
+with the best authors shall ever and anon find somewhat of them in themselves,
+and in the expression of their minds, even when they feel it not, be
+able to utter something like theirs, which hath an authority above their
+own.&nbsp; Nay, sometimes it is the reward of a man&rsquo;s study, the
+praise of quoting another man fitly; and though a man be more prone
+and able for one kind of writing than another, yet he must exercise
+all.&nbsp; For as in an instrument, so in style, there must be a harmony
+and consent of parts.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Pr&aelig;cipiendi modi.</i> - I take this labour in teaching others,
+that they should not be always to be taught, and I would bring my precepts
+into practice, for rules are ever of less force and value than experiments;
+yet with this purpose, rather to show the right way to those that come
+after, than to detect any that have slipped before by error, and I hope
+it will be more profitable.&nbsp; For men do more willingly listen,
+and with more favour, to precept, than reprehension.&nbsp; Among divers
+opinions of an art, and most of them contrary in themselves, it is hard
+to make election; and, therefore, though a man cannot invent new things
+after so many, he may do a welcome work yet to help posterity to judge
+rightly of the old.&nbsp; But arts and precepts avail nothing, except
+Nature be beneficial and aiding.&nbsp; And therefore these things are
+no more written to a dull disposition, than rules of husbandry to a
+soil.&nbsp; No precepts will profit a fool, no more than beauty will
+the blind, or music the deaf.&nbsp; As we should take care that our
+style in writing be neither dry nor empty, we should look again it be
+not winding, or wanton with far-fetched descriptions; either is a vice.&nbsp;
+But that is worse which proceeds out of want, than that which riots
+out of plenty.&nbsp; The remedy of fruitfulness is easy, but no labour
+will help the contrary; I will like and praise some things in a young
+writer which yet, if he continue in, I cannot but justly hate him for
+the same.&nbsp; There is a time to be given all things for maturity,
+and that even your country husband-man can teach, who to a young plant
+will not put the pruning-knife, because it seems to fear the iron, as
+not able to admit the scar.&nbsp; No more would I tell a green writer
+all his faults, lest I should make him grieve and faint, and at last
+despair; for nothing doth more hurt than to make him so afraid of all
+things as he can endeavour nothing.&nbsp; Therefore youth ought to be
+instructed betimes, and in the best things; for we hold those longest
+we take soonest, as the first scent of a vessel lasts, and the tint
+the wool first receives; therefore a master should temper his own powers,
+and descend to the other&rsquo;s infirmity.&nbsp; If you pour a glut
+of water upon a bottle, it receives little of it; but with a funnel,
+and by degrees, you shall fill many of them, and spill little of your
+own; to their capacity they will all receive and be full.&nbsp; And
+as it is fit to read the best authors to youth first, so let them be
+of the openest and clearest. <a name="citation106a"></a><a href="#footnote106a">{106a}</a>&nbsp;
+As Livy before Sallust, Sidney before Donne; and beware of letting them
+taste Gower or Chaucer at first, lest, falling too much in love with
+antiquity, and not apprehending the weight, they grow rough and barren
+in language only.&nbsp; When their judgments are firm, and out of danger,
+let them read both the old and the new; but no less take heed that their
+new flowers and sweetness do not as much corrupt as the others&rsquo;
+dryness and squalor, if they choose not carefully.&nbsp; Spenser, in
+affecting the ancients, writ no language; yet I would have him read
+for his matter, but as Virgil read Ennius.&nbsp; The reading of Homer
+and Virgil is counselled by Quintilian as the best way of informing
+youth and confirming man.&nbsp; For, besides that the mind is raised
+with the height and sublimity of such a verse, it takes spirit from
+the greatness of the matter, and is tinctured with the best things.&nbsp;
+Tragic and lyric poetry is good, too, and comic with the best, if the
+manners of the reader be once in safety.&nbsp; In the Greek poets, as
+also in Plautus, we shall see the economy and disposition of poems better
+observed than in Terence; and the latter, who thought the sole grace
+and virtue of their fable the sticking in of sentences, as ours do the
+forcing in of jests.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Fals. querel. fugiend. Platonis peregrinatio in Italiam.</i> - We<i>
+</i>should not protect our sloth with the patronage of difficulty.&nbsp;
+It is a false quarrel against Nature, that she helps understanding but
+in a few, when the most part of mankind are inclined by her thither,
+if they would take the pains; no less than birds to fly, horses to run,
+&amp;c., which if they lose, it is through their own sluggishness, and
+by that means become her prodigies, not her children.&nbsp; I confess,
+Nature in children is more patient of labour in study than in age; for
+the sense of the pain, the judgment of the labour is absent; they do
+not measure what they have done.&nbsp; And it is the thought and consideration
+that affects us more than the weariness itself.&nbsp; Plato was not
+content with the learning that Athens could give him, but sailed into
+Italy, for Pythagoras&rsquo; knowledge: and yet not thinking himself
+sufficiently informed, went into Egypt, to the priests, and learned
+their mysteries.&nbsp; He laboured, so must we.&nbsp; Many things may
+be learned together, and performed in one point of time; as musicians
+exercise their memory, their voice, their fingers, and sometimes their
+head and feet at once.&nbsp; And so a preacher, in the invention of
+matter, election of words, composition of gesture, look, pronunciation,
+motion, useth all these faculties at once: and if we can express this
+variety together, why should not divers studies, at divers hours, delight,
+when the variety is able alone to refresh and repair us?&nbsp; As, when
+a man is weary of writing, to read; and then again of reading, to write.&nbsp;
+Wherein, howsoever we do many things, yet are we (in a sort) still fresh
+to what we begin; we are recreated with change, as the stomach is with
+meats.&nbsp; But some will say this variety breeds confusion, and makes,
+that either we lose all, or hold no more than the last.&nbsp; Why do
+we not then persuade husbandmen that they should not till land, help
+it with marl, lime, and compost? plant hop-gardens, prune trees, look
+to bee-hives, rear sheep, and all other cattle at once?&nbsp; It is
+easier to do many things and continue, than to do one thing long.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Pr&aelig;cept. element.</i> - It is not the passing through these
+learnings that hurts us, but the dwelling and sticking about them.&nbsp;
+To descend to those extreme anxieties and foolish cavils of grammarians,
+is able to break a wit in pieces, being a work of manifold misery and
+vainness, to be <i>elementarii senes</i>.&nbsp; Yet even letters are,
+as it were, the bank of words, and restore themselves to an author as
+the pawns of language: but talking and eloquence are not the same: to
+speak, and to speak well, are two things.&nbsp; A fool may talk, but
+a wise man speaks; and out of the observation, knowledge, and the use
+of things, many writers perplex their readers and hearers with mere
+nonsense.&nbsp; Their writings need sunshine.&nbsp; Pure and neat language
+I love, yet plain and customary.&nbsp; A barbarous phrase has often
+made me out of love with a good sense, and doubtful writing hath wracked
+me beyond my patience.&nbsp; The reason why a poet is said that he ought
+to have all knowledges is, that he should not be ignorant of the most,
+especially of those he will handle.&nbsp; And indeed, when the attaining
+of them is possible, it were a sluggish and base thing to despair; for
+frequent imitation of anything becomes a habit quickly.&nbsp; If a man
+should prosecute as much as could be said of everything, his work would
+find no end.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De orationis dignitate.</i>&nbsp; &rsquo;&Epsilon;&gamma;&kappa;&upsilon;&kappa;&lambda;&omicron;&pi;&alpha;&iota;&delta;&epsilon;&iota;&alpha;.
+- <i>Metaphora</i>.&nbsp; Speech is the only benefit man hath to express
+his excellency of mind above other creatures.&nbsp; It is the instrument
+of society; therefore Mercury, who is the president of language, is
+called <i>deorum hominumque interpres</i>. <a name="citation110a"></a><a href="#footnote110a">{110a}</a>&nbsp;
+In all speech, words and sense are as the body and the soul.&nbsp; The
+sense is as the life and soul of language, without which all words are
+dead.&nbsp; Sense is wrought out of experience, the knowledge of human
+life and actions, or of the liberal arts, which the Greeks called &rsquo;&Epsilon;&gamma;&kappa;&upsilon;&kappa;&lambda;&omicron;&pi;&alpha;&iota;&delta;&epsilon;&iota;&alpha;&nu;.&nbsp;
+Words are the people&rsquo;s, yet there is a choice of them to be made;
+for <i>verborum delectus origo est eloquenti&aelig;</i>. <a name="citation111a"></a><a href="#footnote111a">{111a}</a>&nbsp;
+They are to be chosen according to the persons we make speak, or the
+things we speak of.&nbsp; Some are of the camp, some of the council-board,
+some of the shop, some of the sheepcote, some of the pulpit, some of
+the Bar, &amp;c.&nbsp; And herein is seen their elegance and propriety,
+when we use them fitly and draw them forth to their just strength and
+nature by way of translation or metaphor.&nbsp; But in this translation
+we must only serve necessity <i>(nam temer&egrave; nihil transfertur
+&agrave; prudenti) </i><a name="citation111b"></a><a href="#footnote111b">{111b}</a>
+or commodity, which is a kind of necessity: that is, when we either
+absolutely want a word to express by, and that is necessity; or when
+we have not so fit a word, and that is commodity; as when we avoid loss
+by it, and escape obsceneness, and gain in the grace and property which
+helps significance.&nbsp; Metaphors far-fetched hinder to be understood;
+and affected, lose their grace.&nbsp; Or when the person fetcheth his
+translations from a wrong place as if a privy councillor should at the
+table take his metaphor from a dicing-house, or ordinary, or a vintner&rsquo;s
+vault; or a justice of peace draw his similitudes from the mathematics,
+or a divine from a bawdy house, or taverns; or a gentleman of Northamptonshire,
+Warwickshire, or the Midland, should fetch all the illustrations to
+his country neighbours from shipping, and tell them of the main-sheet
+and the bowline.&nbsp; Metaphors are thus many times deformed, as in
+him that said, <i>Castratam morte Africani rempublicam; </i>and another,
+<i>Stercus curi&aelig; Glauciam</i>,<i> </i>and <i>Can&acirc; nive conspuit
+Alpes.&nbsp; </i>All attempts that are new in this kind, are dangerous,
+and somewhat hard, before they be softened with use.&nbsp; A man coins
+not a new word without some peril and less fruit; for if it happen to
+be received, the praise is but moderate; if refused, the scorn is assured.&nbsp;
+Yet we must adventure; for things at first hard and rough are by use
+made tender and gentle.&nbsp; It is an honest error that is committed,
+following great chiefs.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Consuetudo. - Perspicuitas</i>,<i> Venustas.</i> - <i>Authoritas.</i>
+- <i>Virgil.</i> - <i>Lucretius. - Chaucerism.</i> - <i>Paronomasia</i>.
+- Custom is the most certain mistress of language, as the public stamp
+makes the current money.&nbsp; But we must not be too frequent with
+the mint, every day coining, nor fetch words from the extreme and utmost
+ages; since the chief virtue of a style is perspicuity, and nothing
+so vicious in it as to need an interpreter.&nbsp; Words borrowed of
+antiquity do lend a kind of majesty to style, and are not without their
+delight sometimes; for they have the authority of years, and out of
+their intermission do win themselves a kind of grace like newness.&nbsp;
+But the eldest of the present, and newness of the past language, is
+the best.&nbsp; For what was the ancient language, which some men so
+dote upon, but the ancient custom?&nbsp; Yet when I name custom, I understand
+not the vulgar custom; for that were a precept no less dangerous to
+language than life, if we should speak or live after the manners of
+the vulgar: but that I call custom of speech, which is the consent of
+the learned; as custom of life, which is the consent of the good.&nbsp;
+Virgil was most loving of antiquity; yet how rarely doth he insert <i>aquai
+</i>and <i>pictai</i>!&nbsp; Lucretius is scabrous and rough in these;
+he seeks them: as some do Chaucerisms with us, which were better expunged
+and banished.&nbsp; Some words are to be culled out for ornament and
+colour, as we gather flowers to strew houses or make garlands; but they
+are better when they grow to our style; as in a meadow, where, though
+the mere grass and greenness delight, yet the variety of flowers doth
+heighten and beautify.&nbsp; Marry, we must not play or riot too much
+with them, as in Paronomasies; nor use too swelling or ill-sounding
+words!&nbsp; <i>Qu&aelig; per salebras</i>,<i> altaque saxa cadunt</i>.
+<a name="citation114a"></a><a href="#footnote114a">{114a}</a>&nbsp;
+It is true, there is no sound but shall find some lovers, as the bitterest
+confections are grateful to some palates.&nbsp; Our composition must
+be more accurate in the beginning and end than in the midst, and in
+the end more than in the beginning; for through the midst the stream
+bears us.&nbsp; And this is attained by custom, more than care of diligence.&nbsp;
+We must express readily and fully, not profusely.&nbsp; There is difference
+between a liberal and prodigal hand.&nbsp; As it is a great point of
+art, when our matter requires it, to enlarge and veer out all sail,
+so to take it in and contract it, is of no less praise, when the argument
+doth ask it.&nbsp; Either of them hath their fitness in the place.&nbsp;
+A good man always profits by his endeavour, by his help, yea, when he
+is absent; nay, when he is dead, by his example and memory.&nbsp; So
+good authors in their style: a strict and succinct style is that where
+you can take away nothing without loss, and that loss to be manifest.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De Stylo.</i> - <i>Tracitus.</i> - <i>The Laconic. - Suetonius. </i>-
+<i>Seneca and Fabianus.</i> - The brief style is that which expresseth
+much in little; the concise style, which expresseth not enough, but
+leaves somewhat to be understood; the abrupt style, which hath many
+breaches, and doth not seem to end, but fall.&nbsp; The congruent and
+harmonious fitting of parts in a sentence hath almost the fastening
+and force of knitting and connection; as in stones well squared, which
+will rise strong a great way without mortar.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Periodi.</i> - <i>Obscuritas offundit tenebras.</i> - <i>Superlatio.</i>
+- Periods are beautiful when they are not too long; for so they have
+their strength too, as in a pike or javelin.&nbsp; As we must take the
+care that our words and sense be clear, so if the obscurity happen through
+the hearer&rsquo;s or reader&rsquo;s want of understanding, I am not
+to answer for them, no more than for their not listening or marking;
+I must neither find them ears nor mind.&nbsp; But a man cannot put a
+word so in sense but something about it will illustrate it, if the writer
+understand himself; for order helps much to perspicuity, as confusion
+hurts.&nbsp; (<i>Rectitudo lucem adfert; obliquitas et circumductio
+offuscat</i>. <a name="citation116a"></a><a href="#footnote116a">{116a}</a>)&nbsp;
+We should therefore speak what we can the nearest way, so as we keep
+our gait, not leap; for too short may as well be not let into the memory,
+as too long not kept in.&nbsp; Whatsoever loseth the grace and clearness,
+converts into a riddle; the obscurity is marked, but not the value.&nbsp;
+That perisheth, and is passed by, like the pearl in the fable.&nbsp;
+Our style should be like a skein of silk, to be carried and found by
+the right thread, not ravelled and perplexed; then all is a knot, a
+heap.&nbsp; There are words that do as much raise a style as others
+can depress it.&nbsp; Superlation and over-muchness amplifies; it may
+be above faith, but never above a mean.&nbsp; It was ridiculous in Cestius,
+when he said of Alexander:<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Fremit oceanus, quasi indignetur, qu&ograve;d terras relinquas.&rdquo;
+<a name="citation117a"></a><a href="#footnote117a">{117a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+But propitiously from Virgil:<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Credas innare revulsas<br>
+Cycladas.&rdquo; <a name="citation117b"></a><a href="#footnote117b">{117b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+He doth not say it was so, but seemed to be so.&nbsp; Although it be
+somewhat incredible, that is excused before it be spoken.&nbsp; But
+there are hyperboles which will become one language, that will by no
+means admit another.&nbsp; As <i>Eos esse </i>P. R. <i>exercitus</i>,<i>
+qui c&aelig;lum possint perrumpere</i>, <a name="citation118a"></a><a href="#footnote118a">{118a}</a>
+who would say with us, but a madman?&nbsp; Therefore we must consider
+in every tongue what is used, what received.&nbsp; Quintilian warns
+us, that in no kind of translation, or metaphor, or allegory, we make
+a turn from what we began; as if we fetch the original of our metaphor
+from sea and billows, we end not in flames and ashes: it is a most foul
+inconsequence.&nbsp; Neither must we draw out our allegory too long,
+lest either we make ourselves obscure, or fall into affectation, which
+is childish.&nbsp; But why do men depart at all from the right and natural
+ways of speaking? sometimes for necessity, when we are driven, or think
+it fitter, to speak that in obscure words, or by circumstance, which
+uttered plainly would offend the hearers.&nbsp; Or to avoid obsceneness,
+or sometimes for pleasure, and variety, as travellers turn out of the
+highway, drawn either by the commodity of a footpath, or the delicacy
+or freshness of the fields.&nbsp; And all this is called &epsilon;&sigma;&chi;&eta;&mu;&alpha;&tau;&iota;&sigma;&mu;&epsilon;&nu;&eta;
+or figured language.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Oratio imago animi</i>. - Language most shows a man: Speak, that
+I may see thee.&nbsp; It springs out of the most retired and inmost
+parts of us, and is the image of the parent of it, the mind.&nbsp; No
+glass renders a man&rsquo;s form or likeness so true as his speech.&nbsp;
+Nay, it is likened to a man; and as we consider feature and composition
+in a man, so words in language; in the greatness, aptness, sound structure,
+and harmony of it.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Structura et statura</i>,<i> sublimis</i>,<i> humilis</i>,<i> pumila.</i>
+- Some men are tall and big, so some language is high and great.&nbsp;
+Then the words are chosen, their sound ample, the composition full,
+the absolution plenteous, and poured out, all grave, sinewy, and strong.&nbsp;
+Some are little and dwarfs; so of speech, it is humble and low, the
+words poor and flat, the members and periods thin and weak, without
+knitting or number.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Mediocris plana et placida.</i> - The middle are of a just stature.&nbsp;
+There the language is plain and pleasing; even without stopping, round
+without swelling: all well-turned, composed, elegant, and accurate.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Vitiosa oratio</i>,<i> vasta</i> - <i>tumens</i> - <i>enormis - affectata</i>
+- <i>abjecta</i>. - The vicious language is vast and gaping, swelling
+and irregular: when it contends to be high, full of rock, mountain,
+and pointedness; as it affects to be low, it is abject, and creeps,
+full of bogs and holes.&nbsp; And according to their subject these styles
+vary, and lose their names: for that which is high and lofty, declaring
+excellent matter, becomes vast and tumorous, speaking of petty and inferior
+things; so that which was even and apt in a mean and plain subject,
+will appear most poor and humble in a high argument.&nbsp; Would you
+not laugh to meet a great councillor of State in a flat cap, with his
+trunk hose, and a hobbyhorse cloak, his gloves under his girdle, and
+yond haberdasher in a velvet gown, furred with sables?&nbsp; There is
+a certain latitude in these things, by which we find the degrees.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Figura.</i> - The<i> </i>next thing to the stature, is the figure
+and feature in language - that is, whether it be round and straight,
+which consists of short and succinct periods, numerous and polished;
+or square and firm, which is to have equal and strong parts everywhere
+answerable, and weighed.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Cutis sive cortex.&nbsp; Compositio.</i> - The third is the skin
+and coat, which rests in the well-joining, cementing, and coagmentation
+of words; whenas it is smooth, gentle, and sweet, like a table upon
+which you may run your finger without rubs, and your nail cannot find
+a joint; not horrid, rough, wrinkled, gaping, or chapped: after these,
+the flesh, blood, and bones come in question.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Carnosa</i> - <i>adipata</i> - <i>redundans.</i> - We say it is a
+fleshy style, when there is much periphrasis, and circuit of words;
+and when with more than enough, it grows fat and corpulent: <i>arvina
+orationis</i>,<i> </i>full of suet and tallow.&nbsp; It hath blood and
+juice when the words are proper and apt, their sound sweet, and the
+phrase neat and picked - <i>oratio uncta</i>,<i> et ben&egrave; pasta.&nbsp;
+</i>But where there is redundancy, both the blood and juice are faulty
+and vicious:- <i>Redundat sanguine</i>,<i> quia multo plus dicit</i>,<i>
+quam necesse est.&nbsp; </i>Juice in language is somewhat less than
+blood; for if the words be but becoming and signifying, and the sense
+gentle, there is juice; but where that wanteth, the language is thin,
+flagging, poor, starved, scarce covering the bone, and shows like stones
+in a sack.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Jejuna</i>,<i> macilenta</i>,<i> strigosa.</i> - <i>Ossea</i>,<i>
+et nervosa.</i> - Some men, to avoid redundancy, run into that; and
+while they strive to have no ill blood or juice, they lose their good.&nbsp;
+There be some styles, again, that have not less blood, but less flesh
+and corpulence.&nbsp; These are bony and sinewy; <i>Ossa habent</i>,<i>
+et nervos.<br>
+<br>
+Not&aelig; domini Sti. Albani de doctrin. intemper.</i> - <i>Dictator.</i>
+- <i>Aristoteles.</i> - It was well noted by the late Lord St. Albans,
+that the study of words is the first distemper of learning; vain matter
+the second; and a third distemper is deceit, or the likeness of truth:
+imposture held up by credulity.&nbsp; All these are the cobwebs of learning,
+and to let them grow in us is either sluttish or foolish.&nbsp; Nothing
+is more ridiculous than to make an author a dictator, as the schools
+have done Aristotle.&nbsp; The damage is infinite knowledge receives
+by it; for to many things a man should owe but a temporary belief, and
+suspension of his own judgment, not an absolute resignation of himself,
+or a perpetual captivity.&nbsp; Let Aristotle and others have their
+dues; but if we can make farther discoveries of truth and fitness than
+they, why are we envied?&nbsp; Let us beware, while we strive to add,
+we do not diminish or deface; we may improve, but not augment.&nbsp;
+By discrediting falsehood, truth grows in request.&nbsp; We must not
+go about, like men anguished and perplexed, for vicious affectation
+of praise, but calmly study the separation of opinions, find the errors
+have intervened, awake antiquity, call former times into question; but
+make no parties with the present, nor follow any fierce undertakers,
+mingle no matter of doubtful credit with the simplicity of truth, but
+gently stir the mould about the root of the question, and avoid all
+digladiations, facility of credit, or superstitious simplicity, seek
+the consonancy and concatenation of truth; stoop only to point of necessity,
+and what leads to convenience.&nbsp; Then make exact animadversion where
+style hath degenerated, where flourished and thrived in choiceness of
+phrase, round and clean composition of sentence, sweet falling of the
+clause, varying an illustration by tropes and figures, weight of matter,
+worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, and depth
+of judgment.&nbsp; This is <i>monte potiri</i>,<i> </i>to get the hill;
+for no perfect discovery can be made upon a flat or a level.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De optimo scriptore.</i> - <i>Cicero.</i> - Now that I have informed
+you in the knowing of these things, let me lead you by the hand a little
+farther, in the direction of the use, and make you an able writer by
+practice.&nbsp; The conceits of the mind are pictures of things, and
+the tongue is the interpreter of those pictures.&nbsp; The order of
+God&rsquo;s creatures in themselves is not only admirable and glorious,
+but eloquent: then he who could apprehend the consequence of things
+in their truth, and utter his apprehensions as truly, were the best
+writer or speaker.&nbsp; Therefore Cicero said much, when he said, <i>Dicere
+recte nemo potest</i>,<i> nisi qui prudenter intelligit</i>. <a name="citation124a"></a><a href="#footnote124a">{124a}</a>&nbsp;
+The shame of speaking unskilfully were small if the tongue only thereby
+were disgraced; but as the image of a king in his seal ill-represented
+is not so much a blemish to the wax, or the signet that sealed it, as
+to the prince it representeth, so disordered speech is not so much injury
+to the lips that give it forth, as to the disproportion and incoherence
+of things in themselves, so negligently expressed.&nbsp; Neither can
+his mind be thought to be in tune, whose words do jar; nor his reason
+in frame, whose sentence is preposterous; nor his elocution clear and
+perfect, whose utterance breaks itself into fragments and uncertainties.&nbsp;
+Were it not a dishonour to a mighty prince, to have the majesty of his
+embassage spoiled by a careless ambassador? and is it not as great an
+indignity, that an excellent conceit and capacity, by the indiligence
+of an idle tongue, should be disgraced?&nbsp; Negligent speech doth
+not only discredit the person of the speaker, but it discrediteth the
+opinion of his reason and judgment; it discrediteth the force and uniformity
+of the matter and substance.&nbsp; If it be so then in words, which
+fly and escape censure, and where one good phrase begs pardon for many
+incongruities and faults, how shall he then be thought wise whose penning
+is thin and shallow? how shall you look for wit from him whose leisure
+and head, assisted with the examination of his eyes, yield you no life
+or sharpness in his writing?<br>
+<br>
+<i>De stylo epistolari.</i> - <i>Inventio.</i> - In<i> </i>writing there
+is to be regarded the invention and the fashion.&nbsp; For the invention,
+that ariseth upon your business, whereof there can be no rules of more
+certainty, or precepts of better direction given, than conjecture can
+lay down from the several occasions of men&rsquo;s particular lives
+and vocations: but sometimes men make baseness of kindness: As &ldquo;I
+could not satisfy myself till I had discharged my remembrance, and charged
+my letters with commendation to you;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;My business is
+no other than to testify my love to you, and to put you in mind of my
+willingness to do you all kind offices;&rdquo; or, &ldquo;Sir, have
+you leisure to descend to the remembering of that assurance you have
+long possessed in your servant, and upon your next opportunity make
+him happy with some commands from you?&rdquo; or the like; that go a-begging
+for some meaning, and labour to be delivered of the great burden of
+nothing.&nbsp; When you have invented, and that your business be matter,
+and not bare form, or mere ceremony, but some earnest, then are you
+to proceed to the ordering of it, and digesting the parts, which is
+had out of two circumstances.&nbsp; One is the understanding of the
+persons to whom you are to write; the other is the coherence of your
+sentence; for men&rsquo;s capacity to weigh what will be apprehended
+with greatest attention or leisure; what next regarded and longed for
+especially, and what last will leave satisfaction, and (as it were)
+the sweetest memorial and belief of all that is passed in his understanding
+whom you write to.&nbsp; For the consequence of sentences, you must
+be sure that every clause do give the cue one to the other, and be bespoken
+ere it come.&nbsp; So much for invention and order.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Modus.</i> - 1<i>.&nbsp; Brevitas.</i> - Now for fashion: it consists
+in four things, which are qualities of your style.&nbsp; The first is
+brevity; for they must not be treatises or discourses (your letters)
+except it be to learned men.&nbsp; And even among them there is a kind
+of thrift and saving of words.&nbsp; Therefore you are to examine the
+clearest passages of your understanding, and through them to convey
+the sweetest and most significant words you can devise, that you may
+the easier teach them the readiest way to another man&rsquo;s apprehension,
+and open their meaning fully, roundly, and distinctly, so as the reader
+may not think a second view cast away upon your letter.&nbsp; And though
+respect be a part following this, yet now here, and still I must remember
+it, if you write to a man, whose estate and sense, as senses, you are
+familiar with, you may the bolder (to set a task to his brain) venture
+on a knot.&nbsp; But if to your superior, you are bound to measure him
+in three farther points: first, with interest in him; secondly, his
+capacity in your letters; thirdly, his leisure to peruse them.&nbsp;
+For your interest or favour with him, you are to be the shorter or longer,
+more familiar or submiss, as he will afford you time.&nbsp; For his
+capacity, you are to be quicker and fuller of those reaches and glances
+of wit or learning, as he is able to entertain them.&nbsp; For his leisure,
+you are commanded to the greater briefness, as his place is of greater
+discharges and cares.&nbsp; But with your betters, you are not to put
+riddles of wit, by being too scarce of words; not to cause the trouble
+of making breviates by writing too riotous and wastingly.&nbsp; Brevity
+is attained in matter by avoiding idle compliments, prefaces, protestations,
+parentheses, superfluous circuit of figures and digressions: in the
+composition, by omitting conjunctions [<i>not only</i>,<i> but also;
+both the one and the other</i>,<i> whereby it cometh to pass</i>] and
+such like idle particles, that have no great business in a serious letter
+but breaking of sentences, as oftentimes a short journey is made long
+by unnessary baits.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Quintilian.</i> - But, as Quintilian saith, there is a briefness
+of the parts sometimes that makes the whole long: &ldquo;As I came to
+the stairs, I took a pair of oars, they launched out, rowed apace, I
+landed at the court gate, I paid my fare, went up to the presence, asked
+for my lord, I was admitted.&rdquo;&nbsp; All this is but, &ldquo;I
+went to the court and spake with my lord.&rdquo;&nbsp; This is the fault
+of some Latin writers within these last hundred years of my reading,
+and perhaps Seneca may be appeached of it; I accuse him not.<br>
+<br>
+2.&nbsp; <i>Perspicuitas.</i> - The next property of epistolary style
+is perspicuity, and is oftentimes by affectation of some wit ill angled
+for, or ostentation of some hidden terms of art.&nbsp; Few words they
+darken speech, and so do too many; as well too much light hurteth the
+eyes, as too little; and a long bill of chancery confounds the understanding
+as much as the shortest note; therefore, let not your letters be penned
+like English statutes, and this is obtained.&nbsp; These vices are eschewed
+by pondering your business well and distinctly concerning yourself,
+which is much furthered by uttering your thoughts, and letting them
+as well come forth to the light and judgment of your own outward senses
+as to the censure of other men&rsquo;s ears; for that is the reason
+why many good scholars speak but fumblingly; like a rich man, that for
+want of particular note and difference can bring you no certain ware
+readily out of his shop.&nbsp; Hence it is that talkative shallow men
+do often content the hearers more than the wise.&nbsp; But this may
+find a speedier redress in writing, where all comes under the last examination
+of the eyes.&nbsp; First, mind it well, then pen it, then examine it,
+then amend it, and you may be in the better hope of doing reasonably
+well.&nbsp; Under this virtue may come plainness, which is not to be
+curious in the order as to answer a letter, as if you were to answer
+to interrogatories.&nbsp; As to the first, first; and to the second,
+secondly, &amp;c. but both in method to use (as ladies do in their attire)
+a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive freedom; though with
+some men you are not to jest, or practise tricks; yet the delivery of
+the most important things may be carried with such a grace, as that
+it may yield a pleasure to the conceit of the reader.&nbsp; There must
+be store, though no excess of terms; as if you are to name store, sometimes
+you may call it choice, sometimes plenty, sometimes copiousness, or
+variety; but ever so, that the word which comes in lieu have not such
+difference of meaning as that it may put the sense of the first in hazard
+to be mistaken.&nbsp; You are not to cast a ring for the perfumed terms
+of the time, as <i>accommodation</i>,<i> complement</i>,<i> spirit </i>&amp;c.,
+but use them properly in their place, as others.<br>
+<br>
+3.&nbsp; <i>Vigor</i> - There followeth life and quickness, which is
+the strength and sinews, as it were, of your penning by pretty sayings,
+similitudes, and conceits; allusions from known history, or other common-place,
+such as are in the <i>Courtier</i>,<i> </i>and the second book of Cicero
+<i>De Oratore.<br>
+<br>
+</i>4.&nbsp; <i>Discretio</i>. - The last is, respect to discern what
+fits yourself, him to whom you write, and that which you handle, which
+is a quality fit to conclude the rest, because it doth include all.&nbsp;
+And that must proceed from ripeness of judgment, which, as one truly
+saith, is gotten by four means, God, nature, diligence, and conversation.&nbsp;
+Serve the first well, and the rest will serve you.<br>
+<br>
+<i>De Poetica</i>. - We have spoken sufficiently of oratory, let us
+now make a diversion to poetry.&nbsp; Poetry, in the primogeniture,
+had many peccant humours, and is made to have more now, through the
+levity and inconstancy of men&rsquo;s judgments.&nbsp; Whereas, indeed,
+it is the most prevailing eloquence, and of the most exalted caract.&nbsp;
+Now the discredits and disgraces are many it hath received through men&rsquo;s
+study of depravation or calumny; their practice being to give it diminution
+of credit, by lessening the professor&rsquo;s estimation, and making
+the age afraid of their liberty; and the age is grown so tender of her
+fame, as she calls all writings aspersions.<br>
+<br>
+That is the state word, the phrase of court (placentia college), which
+some call Parasites place, the Inn of Ignorance.<br>
+<br>
+<i>D. Hieronymus. </i>- Whilst I name no persons, but deride follies,
+why should any man confess or betray himself why doth not that of S.
+Hierome come into their mind, <i>Ubi generalis est de vitiis disputatio</i>,<i>
+ibi nullius esse person&aelig; injuriam</i>? <a name="citation133a"></a><a href="#footnote133a">{133a}</a>&nbsp;
+Is it such an inexpiable crime in poets to tax vices generally, and
+no offence in them, who, by their exception confess they have committed
+them particularly?&nbsp; Are we fallen into those times that we must
+not -<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Auriculas teneras mordaci rodere vero.&rdquo; <a name="citation133b"></a><a href="#footnote133b">{133b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Remedii votum semper verius erat</i>,<i> quam spes. </i><a name="citation133c"></a><a href="#footnote133c">{133c}</a>
+<i>- Sexus f&aelig;min</i>. - If men may by no means write freely, or
+speak truth, but when it offends not, why do physicians cure with sharp
+medicines, or corrosives? is not the same equally lawful in the cure
+of the mind that is in the cure of the body?&nbsp; Some vices, you will
+say, are so foul that it is better they should be done than spoken.&nbsp;
+But they that take offence where no name, character, or signature doth
+blazon them seem to me like affected as women, who if they hear anything
+ill spoken of the ill of their sex, are presently moved, as if the contumely
+respected their particular; and on the contrary, when they hear good
+of good women, conclude that it belongs to them all.&nbsp; If I see
+anything that toucheth me, shall I come forth a betrayer of myself presently?&nbsp;
+No, if I be wise, I&rsquo;ll dissemble it; if honest, I&rsquo;ll avoid
+it, lest I publish that on my own forehead which I saw there noted without
+a title.&nbsp; A man that is on the mending hand will either ingenuously
+confess or wisely dissemble his disease.&nbsp; And the wise and virtuous
+will never think anything belongs to themselves that is written, but
+rejoice that the good are warned not to be such; and the ill to leave
+to be such.&nbsp; The person offended hath no reason to be offended
+with the writer, but with himself; and so to declare that properly to
+belong to him which was so spoken of all men, as it could be no man&rsquo;s
+several, but his that would wilfully and desperately claim it.&nbsp;
+It sufficeth I know what kind of persons I displease, men bred in the
+declining and decay of virtue, betrothed to their own vices; that have
+abandoned or prostituted their good names; hungry and ambitious of infamy,
+invested in all deformity, enthralled to ignorance and malice, of a
+hidden and concealed malignity, and that hold a concomitancy with all
+evil.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>What is a Poet?<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Poeta. </i>- A poet is that which by the Greeks is called &kappa;&alpha;&tau;
+&epsilon;&xi;&omicron;&chi;&eta;&nu;, &omicron; &pi;&omicron;&iota;&eta;&tau;&eta;&sigmaf;,
+a maker, or a feigner: his art, an art of imitation or feigning; expressing
+the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony, according to Aristotle;
+from the word &pi;&omicron;&iota;&epsilon;&iota;&nu;, which signifies
+to make or feign.&nbsp; Hence he is called a poet, not he which writeth
+in measure only, but that feigneth and formeth a fable, and writes things
+like the truth.&nbsp; For the fable and fiction is, as it were, the
+form and soul of any poetical work or poem.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>What mean</i>,<i> you by a Poem?<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Poema</i>. - A poem is not alone any work or composition of the poet&rsquo;s
+in many or few verses; but even one verse alone sometimes makes a perfect
+poem.&nbsp; As when &AElig;neas hangs up and consecrates the arms of
+Abas with this inscription:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;&AElig;neas h&aelig;c de Danais victoribus arma.&rdquo; <a name="citation136a"></a><a href="#footnote136a">{136a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+And calls it a poem or carmen.&nbsp; Such are those in Martial:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Omnia, Castor, emis: sic fiet, ut omnia vendas.&rdquo; <a name="citation136b"></a><a href="#footnote136b">{136b}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+And -<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Pauper videri Cinna vult, et est pauper.&rdquo; <a name="citation136c"></a><a href="#footnote136c">{136c}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Horatius. - Lucretius</i>. - So were Horace&rsquo;s odes called Carmina,
+his lyric songs.&nbsp; And Lucretius designs a whole book in his sixth:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Quod in primo quoque carmine claret.&rdquo; <a name="citation136d"></a><a href="#footnote136d">{136d}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Epicum. -</i> <i>Dramaticum. -</i> <i>Lyricum. -</i> <i>Elegiacum.
+- Epigrammat</i>. - And anciently all the oracles were called Carmina;
+or whatever sentence was expressed, were it much or little, it was called
+an Epic, Dramatic, Lyric, Elegiac, or Epigrammatic poem.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>But how differs a Poem from what we call Poesy?<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Poesis. - Artium regina. - Poet. differenti&aelig;. - Grammatic. -</i>
+<i>Logic. -</i> <i>Rhetoric. -</i> <i>Ethica. -</i> A poem, as I have
+told you, is the work of the poet; the end and fruit of his labour and
+study.&nbsp; Poesy is his skill or craft of making; the very fiction
+itself, the reason or form of the work.&nbsp; And these three voices
+differ, as the thing done, the doing, and the doer; the thing feigned,
+the feigning, and the feigner; so the poem, the poesy, and the poet.&nbsp;
+Now the poesy is the habit or the art; nay, rather the queen of arts,
+which had her original from heaven, received thence from the Hebrews,
+and had in prime estimation with the Greeks transmitted to the Latins
+and all nations that professed civility.&nbsp; The study of it (if we
+will trust Aristotle) offers to mankind a certain rule and pattern of
+living well and happily, disposing us to all civil offices of society.&nbsp;
+If we will believe Tully, it nourisheth and instructeth our youth, delights
+our age, adorns our prosperity, comforts our adversity, entertains us
+at home, keeps us company abroad, travels with us, watches, divides
+the times of our earnest and sports, shares in our country recesses
+and recreations; insomuch as the wisest and best learned have thought
+her the absolute mistress of manners and nearest of kin to virtue.&nbsp;
+And whereas they entitle philosophy to be a rigid and austere poesy,
+they have, on the contrary, styled poesy a dulcet and gentle philosophy,
+which leads on and guides us by the hand to action with a ravishing
+delight and incredible sweetness.&nbsp; But before we handle the kinds
+of poems, with their special differences, or make court to the art itself,
+as a mistress, I would lead you to the knowledge of our poet by a perfect
+information what he is or should be by nature, by exercise, by imitation,
+by study, and so bring him down through the disciplines of grammar,
+logic, rhetoric, and the ethics, adding somewhat out of all, peculiar
+to himself, and worthy of your admittance or reception.<br>
+<br>
+1.&nbsp; <i>Ingenium. -</i> <i>Seneca. -</i> <i>Plato. -</i> <i>Aristotle.
+-</i> <i>Helicon. -</i> <i>Pegasus. -</i> <i>Parnassus. -</i> <i>Ovid.
+-</i> First, we require in our poet or maker (for that title our language
+affords him elegantly with the Greek) a goodness of natural wit.&nbsp;
+For whereas all other arts consist of doctrine and precepts, the poet
+must be able by nature and instinct to pour out the treasure of his
+mind, and as Seneca saith, <i>Aliquando secundum Anacreontem insanire
+jucundum esse; </i>by which he understands the poetical rapture.&nbsp;
+And according to that of Plato, <i>Frustr&agrave; poeticas fores sui
+compos pulsavit</i>.&nbsp; And of Aristotle, <i>Nullum magnum ingenium
+sine mixtur&acirc; dementi&aelig; fuit.&nbsp; Nec potest grande aliquid</i>,<i>
+et supra c&aelig;teros loqui</i>,<i> nisi mota mens</i>.&nbsp; Then
+it riseth higher, as by a divine instinct, when it contemns common and
+known conceptions.&nbsp; It utters somewhat above a mortal mouth.&nbsp;
+Then it gets aloft and flies away with his rider, whither before it
+was doubtful to ascend.&nbsp; This the poets understood by their Helicon,
+Pegasus, or Parnassus; and this made Ovid to boast,<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Est deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo<br>
+Sedibus &aelig;thereis spiritus ille venit.&rdquo; <a name="citation139a"></a><a href="#footnote139a">{139a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Lipsius. - Petron. in. Fragm</i>. - And Lipsius to affirm, <i>Scio</i>,<i>
+poetam neminem pr&aelig;stantem fuisse</i>,<i> sine parte quadam uberiore
+divin&aelig; aur&aelig;</i>.&nbsp; And hence it is that the coming up
+of good poets (for I mind not mediocres or imos) is so thin and rare
+among us.&nbsp; Every beggarly corporation affords the State a mayor
+or two bailiffs yearly; but <i>Solus rex</i>,<i> aut poeta</i>,<i> non
+quotannis nascitur</i>.&nbsp; To this perfection of nature in our poet
+we require exercise of those parts, and frequent.<br>
+<br>
+2.&nbsp; <i>Exercitatio. -</i> <i>Virgil. -</i> <i>Scaliger. -</i> <i>Valer.
+Maximus. - Euripides. - Alcestis</i>. - If his wit will not arrive suddenly
+at the dignity of the ancients, let him not yet fall out with it, quarrel,
+or be over hastily angry; offer to turn it away from study in a humour,
+but come to it again upon better cogitation; try another time with labour.&nbsp;
+If then it succeed not, cast not away the quills yet, nor scratch the
+wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring all to the forge and file
+again; torn it anew.&nbsp; There is no statute law of the kingdom bids
+you be a poet against your will or the first quarter; if it comes in
+a year or two, it is well.&nbsp; The common rhymers pour forth verses,
+such as they are, <i>ex tempore; </i>but there never comes from them
+one sense worth the life of a day.&nbsp; A rhymer and a poet are two
+things.&nbsp; It is said of the incomparable Virgil that he brought
+forth his verses like a bear, and after formed them with licking.&nbsp;
+Scaliger the father writes it of him, that he made a quantity of verses
+in the morning, which afore night he reduced to a less number.&nbsp;
+But that which Valerius Maximus hath left recorded of Euripides, the
+tragic poet, his answer to Alcestis, another poet, is as memorable as
+modest; who, when it was told to Alcestis that Euripides had in three
+days brought forth but three verses, and those with some difficulty
+and throes, Alcestis, glorying he could with ease have sent forth a
+hundred in the space, Euripides roundly replied, &ldquo;Like enough;
+but here is the difference: thy verses will not last these three days,
+mine will to all time.&rdquo;&nbsp; Which was as much as to tell him
+he could not write a verse.&nbsp; I have met many of these rattles that
+made a noise and buzzed.&nbsp; They had their hum, and no more.&nbsp;
+Indeed, things wrote with labour deserve to be so read, and will last
+their age.<br>
+<br>
+3.&nbsp; <i>Imitatio. -</i> <i>Horatius. -</i> <i>Virgil. -</i> <i>Statius.
+-</i> <i>Homer. - Horat. - Archil. - Alc&aelig;us</i>,<i> </i>&amp;c.
+- The third requisite in our poet or maker is imitation, to be able
+to convert the substance or riches of another poet to his own use.&nbsp;
+To make choice of one excellent man above the rest, and so to follow
+him till he grow very he, or so like him as the copy may be mistaken
+for the principal.&nbsp; Not as a creature that swallows what it takes
+in crude, raw, or undigested, but that feeds with an appetite, and hath
+a stomach to concoct, divide, and turn all into nourishment.&nbsp; Not
+to imitate servilely, as Horace saith, and catch at vices for virtue,
+but to draw forth out of the best and choicest flowers, with the bee,
+and turn all into honey, work it into one relish and savour; make our
+imitation sweet; observe how the best writers have imitated, and follow
+them.&nbsp; How Virgil and Statius have imitated Homer; how Horace,
+Archilochus; how Alc&aelig;us, and the other lyrics; and so of the rest.<br>
+<br>
+4.&nbsp; <i>Lectio. -</i> <i>Parnassus. -</i> <i>Helicon. - Arscoron.
+- M. T. Cicero. - Simylus. - Stob. - Horat. - Aristot</i>. - But that
+which we especially require in him is an exactness of study and multiplicity
+of reading, which maketh a full man, not alone enabling him to know
+the history or argument of a poem and to report it, but so to master
+the matter and style, as to show he knows how to handle, place, or dispose
+of either with elegancy when need shall be.&nbsp; And not think he can
+leap forth suddenly a poet by dreaming he hath been in Parnassus, or
+having washed his lips, as they say, in Helicon.&nbsp; There goes more
+to his making than so; for to nature, exercise, imitation, and study
+art must be added to make all these perfect.&nbsp; And though these
+challenge to themselves much in the making up of our maker, it is Art
+only can lead him to perfection, and leave him there in possession,
+as planted by her hand.&nbsp; It is the assertion of Tully, if to an
+excellent nature there happen an accession or conformation of learning
+and discipline, there will then remain somewhat noble and singular.&nbsp;
+For, as Simylus saith in Stob&aelig;us, &Omicron&upsilon;&tau;&epsilon;
+&phi;&upsilon;&sigma;&iota;&sigmaf; &iota;&kappa;&alpha;&nu;&eta; y&iota;&nu;&epsilon;&tau;&alpha;&iota;
+&tau;&epsilon;&chi;&nu;&eta;&sigmaf; &alpha;&tau;&epsilon;&rho;, &omicron;&upsilon;&tau;&epsilon;
+&pi;&alpha;&nu; &tau;&epsilon;&chi;&nu;&eta; &mu;&eta; &phi;&upsilon;&sigma;&iota;&nu;
+&kappa;&epsilon;&kappa;&tau;&eta;&mu;&epsilon;&nu;&eta;, without art
+nature can never be perfect; and without nature art can claim no being.&nbsp;
+But our poet must beware that his study be not only to learn of himself;
+for he that shall affect to do that confesseth his ever having a fool
+to his master.&nbsp; He must read many, but ever the best and choicest;
+those that can teach him anything he must ever account his masters,
+and reverence.&nbsp; Among whom Horace and (he that taught him) Aristotle
+deserved to be the first in estimation.&nbsp; Aristotle was the first
+accurate critic and truest judge - nay, the greatest philosopher the
+world ever had - for he noted the vices of all knowledges in all creatures,
+and out of many men&rsquo;s perfections in a science he formed still
+one art.&nbsp; So he taught us two offices together, how we ought to
+judge rightly of others, and what we ought to imitate specially in ourselves.&nbsp;
+But all this in vain without a natural wit and a poetical nature in
+chief.&nbsp; For no man, so soon as he knows this or reads it, shall
+be able to write the better; but as he is adapted to it by nature, he
+shall grow the perfecter writer.&nbsp; He must have civil prudence and
+eloquence, and that whole; not taken up by snatches or pieces in sentences
+or remnants when he will handle business or carry counsels, as if he
+came then out of the declaimer&rsquo;s gallery, or shadow furnished
+but out of the body of the State, which commonly is the school of men.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Virorum schola respub. - Lysippus. - Apelles. - N&aelig;vius</i>.
+- The poet is the nearest borderer upon the orator, and expresseth all
+his virtues, though he be tied more to numbers, is his equal in ornament,
+and above him in his strengths.&nbsp; And (of the kind) the comic comes
+nearest; because in moving the minds of men, and stirring of affections
+(in which oratory shows, and especially approves her eminence), he chiefly
+excels.&nbsp; What figure of a body was Lysippus ever able to form with
+his graver, or Apelles to paint with his pencil, as the comedy to life
+expresseth so many and various affections of the mind?&nbsp; There shall
+the spectator see some insulting with joy, others fretting with melancholy,
+raging with anger, mad with love, boiling with avarice, undone with
+riot, tortured with expectation, consumed with fear; no perturbation
+in common life but the orator finds an example of it in the scene.&nbsp;
+And then for the elegancy of language, read but this inscription on
+the grave of a comic poet:<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Immortales mortales si fas esset fiere,<br>
+Flerent div&aelig; Cam&oelig;n&aelig; N&aelig;vium poetam;<br>
+Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro,<br>
+Obliti sunt Rom&aelig; lingu&acirc; loqui Latin&acirc;.&rdquo; <a name="citation146a"></a><a href="#footnote146a">{146a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>L. &AElig;lius Stilo. - Plautus. - M. Varro</i>. - Or that modester
+testimony given by Lucius &AElig;lius Stilo upon Plautus, who affirmed,
+<i>&ldquo;Musas</i>,<i> si Latin&egrave; loqui voluissent</i>,<i> Plautino
+sermone fuisse loquuturas</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; And that illustrious judgment
+by the most learned M. Varro of him, who pronounced him the prince of
+letters and elegancy in the Roman language.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Sophocles</i>. - I am not of that opinion to conclude a poet&rsquo;s
+liberty within the narrow limits of laws which either the grammarians
+or philosophers prescribe.&nbsp; For before they found out those laws
+there were many excellent poets that fulfilled them, amongst whom none
+more perfect than Sophocles, who lived a little before Aristotle.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Demosthenes. -</i> <i>Pericles. -</i> <i>Alcibiades. -</i> Which
+of the Greeklings durst ever give precepts to Demosthenes? or to Pericles,
+whom the age surnamed Heavenly, because he seemed to thunder and lighten
+with his language? or to Alcibiades, who had rather Nature for his guide
+than Art for his master?<br>
+<br>
+<i>Aristotle</i>. - But whatsoever nature at any time dictated to the
+most happy, or long exercise to the most laborious, that the wisdom
+and learning of Aristotle hath brought into an art, because he understood
+the causes of things; and what other men did by chance or custom he
+doth by reason; and not only found out the way not to err, but the short
+way we should take not to err.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Euripides. -</i> <i>Aristophanes. -</i> Many things in Euripides
+hath Aristophanes wittily reprehended, not out of art, but out of truth.&nbsp;
+For Euripides is sometimes peccant, as he is most times perfect.&nbsp;
+But judgment when it is greatest, if reason doth not accompany it, is
+not ever absolute.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Cens. Scal. in Lil. Germ. - Horace</i>. - To judge of poets is only
+the faculty of poets; and not of all poets, but the best.&nbsp; <i>Nemo
+infelici&ugrave;s de poetis judicavit</i>,<i> qu&agrave;m qui de poetis
+scripsit</i>. <a name="citation148a"></a><a href="#footnote148a">{148a}</a>&nbsp;
+But some will say critics are a kind of tinkers, that make more faults
+than they mend ordinarily.&nbsp; See their diseases and those of grammarians.&nbsp;
+It is true, many bodies are the worse for the meddling with; and the
+multitude of physicians hath destroyed many sound patients with their
+wrong practice.&nbsp; But the office of a true critic or censor is,
+not to throw by a letter anywhere, or damn an innocent syllable, but
+lay the words together, and amend them; judge sincerely of the author
+and his matter, which is the sign of solid and perfect learning in a
+man.&nbsp; Such was Horace, an author of much civility, and (if<i> </i>any
+one among the heathen can be) the best master both of virtue and wisdom;
+an excellent and true judge upon cause and reason, not because he thought
+so, but because he knew so out of use and experience.<br>
+<br>
+Cato, the grammarian, a defender of Lucilius. <a name="citation149a"></a><a href="#footnote149a">{149a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Cato grammaticus, Latina syren,<br>
+Qui solus legit, et facit poetas.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected. <a name="citation149b"></a><a href="#footnote149b">{149b}</a><br>
+<br>
+Horace, his judgment of Ch&oelig;rillus defended against Joseph Scaliger.
+<a name="citation149c"></a><a href="#footnote149c">{149c}</a>&nbsp;
+And of Laberius against Julius. <a name="citation149d"></a><a href="#footnote149d">{149d}</a><br>
+<br>
+But chiefly his opinion of Plautus <a name="citation149e"></a><a href="#footnote149e">{149e}</a>
+vindicated against many that are offended, and say it is a hard censure
+upon the parent of all conceit and sharpness.&nbsp; And they wish it
+had not fallen from so great a master and censor in the art, whose bondmen
+knew better how to judge of Plautus than any that dare patronise the
+family of learning in this age; who could not be ignorant of the judgment
+of the times in which he lived, when poetry and the Latin language were
+at the height; especially being a man so conversant and inwardly familiar
+with the censures of great men that did discourse of these things daily
+amongst themselves.&nbsp; Again, a man so gracious and in high favour
+with the Emperor, as Augustus often called him his witty manling (for
+the littleness of his stature), and, if we may trust antiquity, had
+designed him for a secretary of estate, and invited him to the palace,
+which he modestly prayed off and refused.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Terence. - Menander</i>.&nbsp; Horace did so highly esteem Terence&rsquo;s
+comedies, as he ascribes the art in comedy to him alone among the Latins,
+and joins him with Menander.<br>
+<br>
+Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend Horace&rsquo;s
+judgment to posterity and not wholly to condemn Plautus.<br>
+<br>
+<i>The parts of a comedy and tragedy</i>. - The parts of a comedy are
+the same with a tragedy, and the end is partly the same, for they both
+delight and teach; the comics are called &delta;&iota;&delta;&alpha;&sigma;&kappa;&alpha;&lambda;&omicron;&iota;,<i>
+</i>of the Greeks no less than the tragics.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Aristotle. - Plato. - Homer. - </i>Nor is the moving of laughter
+always the end of comedy; that is rather a fowling for the people&rsquo;s
+delight, or their fooling.&nbsp; For, as Aristotle says rightly, the
+moving of laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude that depraves
+some part of a man&rsquo;s nature without a disease.&nbsp; As a wry
+face without pain moves laughter, or a deformed vizard, or a rude clown
+dressed in a lady&rsquo;s habit and using her actions; we dislike and
+scorn such representations which made the ancient philosophers ever
+think laughter unfitting in a wise man.&nbsp; And this induced Plato
+to esteem of Homer as a sacrilegious person, because he presented the
+gods sometimes laughing.&nbsp; As also it is divinely said of Aristotle,
+that to seen ridiculous is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.<br>
+<br>
+<i>The wit of the old comedy. </i>- So that what either in the words
+or sense of an author, or in the language or actions of men, is awry
+or depraved does strangely stir mean affections, and provoke for the
+most part to laughter.&nbsp; And therefore it was clear that all insolent
+and obscene speeches, jests upon the best men, injuries to particular
+persons, perverse and sinister sayings (and the rather unexpected) in
+the old comedy did move laughter, especially where it did imitate any
+dishonesty, and scurrility came forth in the place of wit, which, who
+understands the nature and genius of laughter cannot but perfectly know.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Aristophanes. - Plautus</i>. - Of which Aristophanes affords an ample
+harvest, having not only outgone Plautus or any other in that kind,
+but expressed all the moods and figures of what is ridiculous oddly.&nbsp;
+In short, as vinegar is not accounted good until the wine be corrupted,
+so jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter with the beast
+the multitude.&nbsp; They love nothing that is right and proper.&nbsp;
+The farther it runs from reason or possibility with them the better
+it is.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Socrates. -</i> <i>Theatrical wit. -</i> What could have made them
+laugh, like to see Socrates presented, that example of all good life,
+honesty, and virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pulley, and there
+play the philosopher in a basket; measure how many foot a flea could
+skip geometrically, by a just scale, and edify the people from the engine.&nbsp;
+This was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing a playhouse,
+invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had savoured of equity,
+truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have tasten a wise or a learned
+palate, - spit it out presently! this is bitter and profitable: this
+instructs and would inform us: what need we know any thing, that are
+nobly born, more than a horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to break
+with citizens, and such innate mysteries?<br>
+<br>
+<i>The cart</i>. - This is truly leaping from the stage to the tumbril
+again, reducing all wit to the original dung-cart.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<i>Of the magnitude and compass of any fable</i>,<i> epic or</i> <i>dramatic.<br>
+<br>
+What the measure of a fable is. - The fable or plot of a poem defined.
+- The epic fable</i>,<i> differing from the dramatic</i>. - To the resolving
+of this question we must first agree in the definition of the fable.&nbsp;
+The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect action,
+whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the structure
+can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling the whole,
+of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members.&nbsp; As
+for example: if a man would build a house, he would first appoint a
+place to build it in, which he would define within certain bounds; so
+in the constitution of a poem, the action is aimed at by the poet, which
+answers place in a building, and that action hath his largeness, compass,
+and proportion.&nbsp; But as a court or king&rsquo;s palace requires
+other dimensions than a private house, so the epic asks a magnitude
+from other poems, since what is place in the one is action in the other;
+the difference is an space.&nbsp; So that by this definition we conclude
+the fable to be the imitation of one perfect and entire action, as one
+perfect and entire place is required to a building.&nbsp; By perfect,
+we understand that to which nothing is wanting, as place to the building
+that is raised, and action to the fable that is formed.&nbsp; It is
+perfect, perhaps not for a court or king&rsquo;s palace, which requires
+a greater ground, but for the structure he would raise; so the space
+of the action may not prove large enough for the epic fable, yet be
+perfect for the dramatic, and whole.<br>
+<br>
+<i>What we understand by whole</i>. - Whole we call that, and perfect,
+which hath a beginning, a midst, and an end.&nbsp; So the place of any
+building may be whole and entire for that work, though too little for
+a palace.&nbsp; As to a tragedy or a comedy, the action may be convenient
+and perfect that would not fit an epic poem in magnitude.&nbsp; So a
+lion is a perfect creature in himself, though it be less than that of
+a buffalo or a rhinocerote.&nbsp; They differ but in specie: either
+in the kind is absolute; both have their parts, and either the whole.&nbsp;
+Therefore, as in every body so in every action, which is the subject
+of a just work, there is required a certain proportionable greatness,
+neither too vast nor too minute.&nbsp; For that which happens to the
+eyes when we behold a body, the same happens to the memory when we contemplate
+an action.&nbsp; I look upon a monstrous giant, as Tityus, whose body
+covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks upon every part; the
+whole that consists of those parts will never be taken in at one entire
+view.&nbsp; So in a fable, if the action be too great, we can never
+comprehend the whole together in our imagination.&nbsp; Again, if it
+be too little, there ariseth no pleasure out of the object; it affords
+the view no stay; it is beheld, and vanisheth at once.&nbsp; As if we
+should look upon an ant or pismire, the parts fly the sight, and the
+whole considered is almost nothing.&nbsp; The same happens in action,
+which is the object of memory, as the body is of sight.&nbsp; Too vast
+oppresseth the eyes, and exceeds the memory; too little scarce admits
+either.<br>
+<br>
+<i>What is the utmost bounds of a fable</i>. - Now in every action it
+behoves the poet to know which is his utmost bound, how far with fitness
+and a necessary proportion he may produce and determine it; that is,
+till either good fortune change into the worse, or the worse into the
+better.&nbsp; For as a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no
+more can the action, either in comedy or tragedy, without his fit bounds:
+and every bound, for the nature of the subject, is esteemed the best
+that is largest, till it can increase no more; so it behoves the action
+in tragedy or comedy to be let grow till the necessity ask a conclusion;
+wherein two things are to be considered: first, that it exceed not the
+compass of one day; next, that there be place left for digression and
+art.&nbsp; For the episodes and digressions in a fable are the same
+that household stuff and other furniture are in a house.&nbsp; And so
+far from the measure and extent of a fable dramatic.<br>
+<br>
+<i>What by one and entire</i>. - Now that it should be one and entire.&nbsp;
+One is considerable two ways; either as it is only separate, and by
+itself, or as being composed of many parts, it begins to be one as those
+parts grow or are wrought together.&nbsp; That it should be one the
+first away alone, and by itself, no man that hath tasted letters ever
+would say, especially having required before a just magnitude and equal
+proportion of the parts in themselves.&nbsp; Neither of which can possibly
+be, if the action be single and separate, not composed of parts, which
+laid together in themselves, with an equal and fitting proportion, tend
+to the same end; which thing out of antiquity itself hath deceived many,
+and more this day it doth deceive.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Hercules. -</i> <i>Theseus. -</i> <i>Achilles. -</i> <i>Ulysses.
+-</i> <i>Homer and Virgil. - &AElig;neas. - Venus. -</i> So many there
+be of old that have thought the action of one man to be one, as of Hercules,
+Theseus, Achilles, Ulysses, and other heroes; which is both foolish
+and false, since by one and the same person many things may be severally
+done which cannot fitly be referred or joined to the same end: which
+not only the excellent tragic poets, but the best masters of the epic,
+Homer and Virgil, saw.&nbsp; For though the argument of an epic poem
+be far more diffused and poured out than that of tragedy, yet Virgil,
+writing of &AElig;neas, hath pretermitted many things.&nbsp; He neither
+tells how he was born, how brought up, how he fought with Achilles,
+how he was snatched out of the battle by Venus; but that one thing,
+how he came into Italy, he prosecutes in twelve books.&nbsp; The rest
+of his journey, his error by sea, the sack of Troy, are put not as the
+argument of the work, but episodes of the argument.&nbsp; So Homer laid
+by many things of Ulysses, and handled no more than he saw tended to
+one and the same end.<br>
+<br>
+<i>Theseus. -</i> <i>Hercules. -</i> <i>Juvenal. - Codrus. -</i> <i>Sophocles.
+- Ajax. - Ulysses</i>. - Contrary to which, and foolishly, those poets
+did, whom the philosopher taxeth, of whom one gathered all the actions
+of Theseus, another put all the labours of Hercules in one work.&nbsp;
+So did he whom Juvenal mentions in the beginning, &ldquo;hoarse Codrus,&rdquo;
+that recited a volume compiled, which he called his Theseide, not yet
+finished, to the great trouble both of his hearers and himself; amongst
+which there were many parts had no coherence nor kindred one with another,
+so far they were from being one action, one fable.&nbsp; For as a house,
+consisting of divers materials, becomes one structure and one dwelling,
+so an action, composed of divers parts, may become one fable, epic or
+dramatic.&nbsp; For example, in a tragedy, look upon Sophocles, his
+Ajax: Ajax, deprived of Achilles&rsquo; armour, which he hoped from
+the suffrage of the Greeks, disdains; and, growing impatient of the
+injury, rageth, and runs mad.&nbsp; In that humour he doth many senseless
+things, and at last falls upon the Grecian flock and kills a great ram
+for Ulysses: returning to his senses, he grows ashamed of the scorn,
+and kills himself; and is by the chiefs of the Greeks forbidden burial.&nbsp;
+These things agree and hang together, not as they were done, but as
+seeming to be done, which made the action whole, entire, and absolute.<br>
+<br>
+<i>The conclusion concerning the whole</i>,<i> and the parts. - Which
+are episodes. - Ajax and Hector. - Homer</i>. - For the whole, as it
+consisteth of parts, so without all the parts it is not the whole; and
+to make it absolute is required not only the parts, but such parts as
+are true.&nbsp; For a part of the whole was true; which, if you take
+away, you either change the whole or it is not the whole.&nbsp; For
+if it be such a part, as, being present or absent, nothing concerns
+the whole, it cannot be called a part of the whole; and such are the
+episodes, of which hereafter.&nbsp; For the present here is one example:
+the single combat of Ajax with Hector, as it is at large described in
+Homer, nothing belongs to this Ajax of Sophocles.<br>
+<br>
+You admire no poems but such as run like a brewer&rsquo;s cart upon
+the stones, hobbling:-<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&ldquo;Et, qu&aelig; per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Accius et quidquid Pacuviusque vomunt.<br>
+Attonitusque legis terra&iuml;, frugifera&iuml;.&rdquo; <a name="citation160a"></a><a href="#footnote160a">{160a}</a><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+SOME POEMS.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+TO WILLIAM CAMDEN<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Camden! most reverend head, to whom I owe<br>
+All that I am in arts, all that I know -<br>
+How nothing&rsquo;s that! to whom my country owes<br>
+The great renown, and name wherewith she goes!<br>
+Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave,<br>
+More high, more holy, that she more would crave.<br>
+What name, what skill, what faith hast thou in things!<br>
+What sight in searching the most antique springs!<br>
+What weight, and what authority in thy speech!<br>
+Men scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach.<br>
+Pardon free truth, and let thy modesty,<br>
+Which conquers all, be once o&rsquo;ercome by thee.<br>
+Many of thine, this better could, than I;<br>
+But for their powers, accept my piety.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ON MY FIRST DAUGHTER<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Here lies, to each her parents&rsquo; ruth,<br>
+Mary, the daughter of their youth;<br>
+Yet, all heaven&rsquo;s gifts, being heaven&rsquo;s due,<br>
+It makes the father less to rue.<br>
+At six months&rsquo; end, she parted hence,<br>
+With safety of her innocence;<br>
+Whose soul heaven&rsquo;s queen, whose name she bears,<br>
+In comfort of her mother&rsquo;s tears,<br>
+Hath placed amongst her virgin-train;<br>
+Where, while that severed doth remain,<br>
+This grave partakes the fleshly birth;<br>
+Which cover lightly, gentle earth!<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ON MY FIRST SON<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;<br>
+My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy;<br>
+Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,<br>
+Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.<br>
+Oh! could I lose all father, now! for why,<br>
+Will man lament the state he should envy?<br>
+To have so soon &rsquo;scaped world&rsquo;s, and flesh&rsquo;s rage,<br>
+And, if no other misery, yet age!<br>
+Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie<br>
+Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry;<br>
+For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such,<br>
+As what he loves may never like too much.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+TO FRANCIS BEAUMONT<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+How I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse,<br>
+That unto me dost such religion use!<br>
+How I do fear myself, that am not worth<br>
+The least indulgent thought thy pen drops forth!<br>
+At once thou mak&rsquo;st me happy, and unmak&rsquo;st;<br>
+And giving largely to me, more thou takest!<br>
+What fate is mine, that so itself bereaves?<br>
+What art is thine, that so thy friend deceives?<br>
+When even there, where most thou praisest me,<br>
+For writing better, I must envy thee.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+OF LIFE AND DEATH<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+The ports of death are sins; of life, good deeds:<br>
+Through which our merit leads us to our meeds.<br>
+How wilful blind is he, then, that would stray,<br>
+And hath it in his powers to make his way!<br>
+This world death&rsquo;s region is, the other life&rsquo;s:<br>
+And here it should be one of our first strifes,<br>
+So to front death, as men might judge us past it:<br>
+For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+INVITING A FRIEND TO SUPPER<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+To-night, grave sir, both my poor house and I<br>
+Do equally desire your company;<br>
+Not that we think us worthy such a guest,<br>
+But that your worth will dignify our feast,<br>
+With those that come; whose grace may make that seem<br>
+Something, which else could hope for no esteem.<br>
+It is the fair acceptance, sir, creates<br>
+The entertainment perfect, not the cates.<br>
+Yet shall you have, to rectify your palate,<br>
+An olive, capers, or some bitter salad<br>
+Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen,<br>
+If we can get her, full of eggs, and then,<br>
+Lemons and wine for sauce: to these, a coney<br>
+Is not to be despaired of for our money;<br>
+And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks,<br>
+The sky not falling, think we may have larks.<br>
+I&rsquo;ll tell you of more, and lie, so you will come:<br>
+Of partridge, pheasant, woodcock, of which some<br>
+May yet be there; and godwit if we can;<br>
+Knat, rail, and ruff, too.&nbsp; Howsoe&rsquo;er, my man<br>
+Shall read a piece of Virgil, Tacitus,<br>
+Livy, or of some better book to us,<br>
+Of which we&rsquo;ll speak our minds, amidst our meat;<br>
+And I&rsquo;ll profess no verses to repeat:<br>
+To this if aught appear, which I not know of,<br>
+That will the pastry, not my paper, show of.<br>
+Digestive cheese, and fruit there sure will be;<br>
+But that which most doth take my muse and me,<br>
+Is a pure cup of rich canary wine,<br>
+Which is the Mermaid&rsquo;s now, but shall be mine:<br>
+Of which had Horace, or Anacreon tasted,<br>
+Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.<br>
+Tobacco, nectar, or the Thespian spring,<br>
+Are all but Luther&rsquo;s beer, to this I sing.<br>
+Of this we will sup free, but moderately,<br>
+And we will have no Pooly&rsquo; or Parrot by;<br>
+Nor shall our cups make any guilty men;<br>
+But at our parting we will be as when<br>
+We innocently met.&nbsp; No simple word<br>
+That shall be uttered at our mirthful board,<br>
+Shall make us sad next morning; or affright<br>
+The liberty that we&rsquo;ll enjoy to-night.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+EPITAPH ON SALATHIEL PAVY,<br>
+A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH&rsquo;S CHAPEL<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Weep with me all you that read<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This little story;<br>
+And know for whom a tear you shed,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Death&rsquo;s self is sorry.<br>
+&rsquo;Twas a child that so did thrive<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In grace and feature,<br>
+As heaven and nature seemed to strive<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Which owned the creature.<br>
+Years he numbered scarce thirteen<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;When fates turned cruel;<br>
+Yet three filled zodiacs had he been<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The stage&rsquo;s jewel;<br>
+And did act, what now we moan,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Old men so duly;<br>
+As, sooth, the Parc&aelig; thought him one<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He played so truly.<br>
+So, by error to his fate<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;They all consented;<br>
+But viewing him since, alas, too late!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;They have repented;<br>
+And have sought to give new birth,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In baths to steep him;<br>
+But, being so much too good for earth,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Heaven vows to keep him.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L. H.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Wouldst thou hear what man can say<br>
+In a little?&nbsp; Reader, stay.<br>
+Underneath this stone doth lie<br>
+As much beauty as could die<br>
+Which in life did harbour give<br>
+To more virtue than doth live.<br>
+If, at all, she had a fault<br>
+Leave it buried in this vault.<br>
+One name was Elizabeth,<br>
+The other let it sleep with death.<br>
+Fitter, where it died, to tell,<br>
+Than that it lived at all.&nbsp; Farewell.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+EPITAPH ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Underneath this sable hearse<br>
+Lies the subject of all verse,<br>
+Sidney&rsquo;s sister, Pembroke&rsquo;s mother:<br>
+Death! ere thou hast slain another,<br>
+Learned, and fair, and good as she,<br>
+Time shall throw a dart at thee.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, AND WHAT HE HATH
+LEFT US<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+To draw no envy, Shakspeare, on thy name,<br>
+Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;<br>
+While I confess thy writings to be such,<br>
+As neither man, nor muse can praise too much.<br>
+&rsquo;Tis true, and all men&rsquo;s suffrage.&nbsp; But these ways<br>
+Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;<br>
+For silliest ignorance on these may light,<br>
+Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;<br>
+Or blind affection, which doth ne&rsquo;er advance<br>
+The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;<br>
+Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,<br>
+And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.<br>
+These are, as some infamous bawd, or whore,<br>
+Should praise a matron; what would hurt her more?<br>
+But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,<br>
+Above the ill-fortune of them, or the need.<br>
+I, therefore, will begin: Soul of the age!<br>
+The applause! delight! and wonder of our stage!<br>
+My Shakspeare rise!&nbsp; I will not lodge thee by<br>
+Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie<br>
+A little further off, to make thee room:<br>
+Thou art a monument without a tomb,<br>
+And art alive still, while thy book doth live<br>
+And we have wits to read, and praise to give.<br>
+That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,<br>
+I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;<br>
+For if I thought my judgment were of years,<br>
+I should commit thee surely with thy peers,<br>
+And tell how far thou didst our Lily outshine,<br>
+Or sporting Kyd, or Marlow&rsquo;s mighty line.<br>
+And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,<br>
+From thence to honour thee, I will not seek<br>
+For names: but call forth thundering Eschylus,<br>
+Euripides, and Sophocles to us,<br>
+Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordoua dead,<br>
+To live again, to hear thy buskin tread,<br>
+And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on,<br>
+Leave thee alone for the comparison<br>
+Of all that insolent Greece, or haughty Rome<br>
+Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.<br>
+Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show,<br>
+To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.<br>
+He was not of an age, but for all time!<br>
+And all the Muses still were in their prime,<br>
+When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm<br>
+Our ears, or like a Mercury to charm!<br>
+Nature herself was proud of his designs,<br>
+And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!<br>
+Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,<br>
+As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.<br>
+The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,<br>
+Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please;<br>
+But antiquated and deserted lie,<br>
+As they were not of nature&rsquo;s family.<br>
+Yet must I not give nature all; thy art,<br>
+My gentle Shakspeare, must enjoy a part.<br>
+For though the poet&rsquo;s matter nature be,<br>
+His heart doth give the fashion: and, that he<br>
+Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,<br>
+(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat<br>
+Upon the Muse&rsquo;s anvil; turn the same,<br>
+And himself with it, that he thinks to frame;<br>
+Or for the laurel, he may gain a scorn;<br>
+For a good poet&rsquo;s made, as well as born.<br>
+And such wert thou!&nbsp; Look how the father&rsquo;s face<br>
+Lives in his issue, even so the race<br>
+Of Shakspeare&rsquo;s mind and manners brightly shines<br>
+In his well-turn&egrave;d, and true fil&egrave;d lines;<br>
+In each of which he seems to shake a lance,<br>
+As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.<br>
+Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were<br>
+To see thee in our water yet appear,<br>
+And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,<br>
+That so did take Eliza, and our James!<br>
+But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere<br>
+Advanced, and made a constellation there!<br>
+Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage,<br>
+Or influence, chide, or cheer the drooping stage,<br>
+Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night,<br>
+And despairs day, but for thy volume&rsquo;s light.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+TO CELIA<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Drink to me only with thine eyes,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And I will pledge with mine;<br>
+Or leave a kiss but in the cup,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And I&rsquo;ll not look for wine.<br>
+The thirst that from the soul doth rise<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Doth ask a drink divine:<br>
+But might I of Jove&rsquo;s nectar sup,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I would not change for thine.<br>
+<br>
+I sent thee late a rosy wreath,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Not so much honouring thee,<br>
+As giving it a hope that there<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It could not withered be.<br>
+But thou thereon didst only breathe,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And sent&rsquo;st it back to me:<br>
+Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Not of itself, but thee.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+THE TRIUMPH OF CHARIS<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;See the chariot at hand here of Love,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Wherein my lady rideth!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Each that draws is a swan or a dove,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And well the car Love guideth.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As she goes, all hearts do duty<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Unto her beauty;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And, enamoured, do wish, so they might<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But enjoy such
+a sight,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That they still were to run by her side,<br>
+Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Do but look on her eyes, they do light<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;All that Love&rsquo;s world compriseth!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Do but look on her hair, it is bright<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As Love&rsquo;s star when it riseth!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Do but mark, her forehead&rsquo;s smoother<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Than words that
+soothe her!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And from her arched brows, such a grace<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sheds itself through
+the face,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As alone there triumphs to the life<br>
+All the gain, all the good, of the elements&rsquo; strife.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have you seen but a bright lily grow<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Before rude hands have touched it?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have you marked but the fall o&rsquo; the snow<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Before the soil hath smutched it?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have you felt the wool of beaver?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or swan&rsquo;s
+down ever?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or have smelt o&rsquo; the bud o&rsquo; the brier?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or the nard in
+the fire?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or have tasted the bag of the bee?<br>
+O so white!&nbsp; O so soft!&nbsp; O so sweet is she!<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+IN THE PERSON OF WOMANKIND<br>
+A SONG APOLOGETIC<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Men, if you love us, play no more<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The fools or tyrants with your friends,<br>
+To make us still sing o&rsquo;er and o&rsquo;er<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Our own false praises, for your ends:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We have both wits and fancies too,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And, if we must, let&rsquo;s sing
+of you.<br>
+<br>
+Nor do we doubt but that we can,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;If we would search with care and pain,<br>
+Find some one good in some one man;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So going thorough all your strain,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We shall, at last, of parcels make<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;One good enough for a song&rsquo;s
+sake.<br>
+<br>
+And as a cunning painter takes,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In any curious piece you see,<br>
+More pleasure while the thing he makes,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Than when &rsquo;tis made - why so will we.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And having pleased our art, we&rsquo;ll
+try<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To make a new, and hang that by.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ODE<br>
+<i>To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair</i>,<i>
+Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Morison.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+</i>I.<br>
+<br>
+THE TURN.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Brave infant of Saguntum, clear<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Thy coming forth in that great year,<br>
+When the prodigious Hannibal did crown<br>
+His cage, with razing your immortal town.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Thou, looking then about,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ere thou wert half got out,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Wise child, didst hastily return,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And mad&rsquo;st thy mother&rsquo;s womb thine urn.<br>
+How summed a circle didst thou leave mankind<br>
+Of deepest lore, could we the centre find!<br>
+<br>
+THE COUNTER-TURN.<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Did wiser nature draw thee back,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;From out the horror of that sack,<br>
+Where shame, faith, honour, and regard of right,<br>
+Lay trampled on? the deeds of death and night,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Urged, hurried forth, and hurled<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Upon th&rsquo; affrighted world;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sword, fire, and famine, with fell fury met,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And all on utmost ruin set;<br>
+As, could they but life&rsquo;s miseries foresee,<br>
+No doubt all infants would return like thee.<br>
+<br>
+THE STAND.<br>
+<br>
+For what is life, if measured by the space<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Not by the act?<br>
+Or mask&egrave;d man, if valued by his face,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Above his fact?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Here&rsquo;s one outlived his peers,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And told forth fourscore years;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He vex&egrave;d time, and busied the whole state;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Troubled both foes and friends;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But ever to no ends:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What did this stirrer but die late?<br>
+How well at twenty had he fallen or stood!<br>
+For three of his fourscore he did no good.<br>
+<br>
+II.<br>
+<br>
+THE TURN<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He entered well, by virtuous parts,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Got up, and thrived with honest arts;<br>
+He purchased friends, and fame, and honours then,<br>
+And had his noble name advanced with men:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But weary of that flight,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He stooped in all men&rsquo;s sight<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To sordid flatteries,
+acts of strife,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And sunk in that
+dead sea of life,<br>
+So deep, as he did then death&rsquo;s waters sup,<br>
+But that the cork of title buoyed him up.<br>
+<br>
+THE COUNTER-TURN<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Alas! but Morison fell young:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He never fell, - thou fall&rsquo;st, my tongue.<br>
+He stood a soldier to the last right end,<br>
+A perfect patriot, and a noble friend;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But most, a virtuous son.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;All offices were done<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By him, so ample, full, and round,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In weight, in measure, number, sound,<br>
+As, though his age imperfect might appear,<br>
+His life was of humanity the sphere.<br>
+<br>
+THE STAND<br>
+<br>
+Go now, and tell out days summed up with fears,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And make them years;<br>
+Produce thy mass of miseries on the stage,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To swell thine age;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Repeat of things a throng,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To show thou hast been long,<br>
+Not lived: for life doth her great actions spell.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By what was done and wrought<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In season, and so brought<br>
+To light: her measures are, how well<br>
+Each syllabe answered, and was formed, how fair;<br>
+These make the lines of life, and that&rsquo;s her air!<br>
+<br>
+III.<br>
+<br>
+THE TURN<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It is not growing like a tree<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In bulk, doth make men better be;<br>
+Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,<br>
+To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A lily of a day,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is fairer far in May,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Although it fall and die that night;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It was the plant, and flower of light.<br>
+In small proportions we just beauties see;<br>
+And in short measures, life may perfect be.<br>
+<br>
+THE COUNTER-TURN<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Call, noble Lucius, then for wine,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And let thy looks with gladness shine:<br>
+Accept this garland, plant it on thy head<br>
+And think, nay know, thy Morison&rsquo;s not dead<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He leaped the present age,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Possessed with holy rage<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To see that bright eternal day;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of which we priests and poets say,<br>
+Such truths, as we expect for happy men:<br>
+And there he lives with memory and Ben.<br>
+<br>
+THE STAND<br>
+<br>
+Jonson, who sung this of him, ere he went,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Himself to rest,<br>
+Or taste a part of that full joy he meant<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To have expressed,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In this bright Asterism!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Where it were friendship&rsquo;s
+schism,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Were not his Lucius long with us to tarry,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To separate these twi-<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lights, the Dioscouri;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And keep the one half from his Harry,<br>
+But fate doth so alternate the design<br>
+Whilst that in heaven, this light on earth must shine.<br>
+<br>
+IV.<br>
+<br>
+THE TURN<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And shine as you exalted are;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Two names of friendship, but one star:<br>
+Of hearts the union, and those not by chance<br>
+Made, or indenture, or leased out t&rsquo;advance<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The profits for a time.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No pleasures vain did chime,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of rhymes, or riots, at your feasts,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Orgies of drink, or feigned protests:<br>
+But simple love of greatness and of good,<br>
+That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.<br>
+<br>
+THE COUNTER-TURN<br>
+<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This made you first to know the why<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;You liked, then after, to apply<br>
+That liking; and approach so one the t&rsquo;other,<br>
+Till either grew a portion of the other:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Each styled by his end,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The copy of his friend.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;You lived to be the great sir-names,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And titles, by which all made claims<br>
+Unto the virtue; nothing perfect done,<br>
+But as a Cary, or a Morison.<br>
+<br>
+THE STAND<br>
+<br>
+And such a force the fair example had,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As they that saw<br>
+The good, and durst not practise it, were glad<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That such a law<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Was left yet to mankind;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Where they might read and find<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Friendship, indeed, was written not in words;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And with the heart, not pen,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of two so early men,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Whose lines her rolls were, and records;<br>
+Who, ere the first down bloomed upon the chin,<br>
+Had sowed these fruits, and got the harvest in.<br>
+<br>
+PR&AElig;LUDIUM<br>
+<br>
+And must I sing?&nbsp; What subject shall I choose!<br>
+Or whose great name in poets&rsquo; heaven use,<br>
+For the more countenance to my active muse?<br>
+<br>
+Hercules? alas, his bones are yet sore<br>
+With his old earthly labours t&rsquo; exact more<br>
+Of his dull godhead were sin.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll implore<br>
+<br>
+Ph&oelig;bus.&nbsp; No, tend thy cart still.&nbsp; Envious day<br>
+Shall not give out that I have made thee stay,<br>
+And foundered thy hot team, to tune my lay.<br>
+<br>
+Nor will I beg of thee, lord of the vine,<br>
+To raise my spirits with thy conjuring wine,<br>
+In the green circle of thy ivy twine.<br>
+<br>
+Pallas, nor thee I call on, mankind maid,<br>
+That at thy birth mad&rsquo;st the poor smith afraid.<br>
+Who with his axe thy father&rsquo;s midwife played.<br>
+<br>
+Go, cramp dull Mars, light Venus, when he snorts,<br>
+Or with thy tribade trine invent new sports;<br>
+Thou, nor thy looseness with my making sorts.<br>
+<br>
+Let the old boy, your son, ply his old task,<br>
+Turn the stale prologue to some painted mask;<br>
+His absence in my verse is all I ask.<br>
+<br>
+Hermes, the cheater, shall not mix with us,<br>
+Though he would steal his sisters&rsquo; Pegasus,<br>
+And rifle him; or pawn his petasus.<br>
+<br>
+Nor all the ladies of the Thespian lake,<br>
+Though they were crushed into one form, could make<br>
+A beauty of that merit, that should take<br>
+<br>
+My muse up by commission; no, I bring<br>
+My own true fire: now my thought takes wing,<br>
+And now an epode to deep ears I sing.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+EPODE<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Not to know vice at all, and keep true state,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is virtue and not fate:<br>
+Next to that virtue, is to know vice well,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And her black spite expel.<br>
+Which to effect (since no breast is so sure,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or safe, but she&rsquo;ll procure<br>
+Some way of entrance) we must plant a guard<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of thoughts to watch and ward<br>
+At th&rsquo; eye and ear, the ports unto the mind,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That no strange, or unkind<br>
+Object arrive there, but the heart, our spy,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Give knowledge instantly<br>
+To wakeful reason, our affections&rsquo; king:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Who, in th&rsquo; examining,<br>
+Will quickly taste the treason, and commit<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Close, the close cause of it.<br>
+&rsquo;Tis the securest policy we have,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To make our sense our slave.<br>
+But this true course is not embraced by many:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By many! scarce by any.<br>
+For either our affections do rebel,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or else the sentinel,<br>
+That should ring &rsquo;larum to the heart, doth sleep:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Or some great thought doth keep<br>
+Back the intelligence, and falsely swears<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;They&rsquo;re base and idle fears<br>
+Whereof the loyal conscience so complains.<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Thus, by these subtle trains,<br>
+Do several passions invade the mind,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And strike our reason blind:<br>
+Of which usurping rank, some have thought love<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The first: as prone to move<br>
+Most frequent tumults, horrors, and unrests,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In our inflam&egrave;d breasts:<br>
+But this doth from the cloud of error grow,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Which thus we over-blow.<br>
+The thing they here call love is blind desire,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Armed with bow, shafts, and fire;<br>
+Inconstant, like the sea, of whence &rsquo;tis born,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Rough, swelling, like a storm;<br>
+With whom who sails, rides on the surge of fear,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And boils as if he were<br>
+In a continual tempest.&nbsp; Now, true love<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No such effects doth prove;<br>
+That is an essence far more gentle, fine,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pure, perfect, nay, divine;<br>
+It is a golden chain let down from heaven,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Whose links are bright and even;<br>
+That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The soft and sweetest minds<br>
+In equal knots: this bears no brands, nor darts,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To murder different hearts,<br>
+But, in a calm and god-like unity,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Preserves community.<br>
+O, who is he that, in this peace, enjoys<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Th&rsquo; elixir of all joys?<br>
+A form more fresh than are the Eden bowers,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And lasting as her flowers;<br>
+Richer than Time and, as Times&rsquo;s virtue, rare;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Sober as saddest care;<br>
+A fix&egrave;d thought, an eye untaught to glance;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Who, blest with such high chance,<br>
+Would, at suggestion of a steep desire,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Cast himself from the spire<br>
+Of all his happiness?&nbsp; But soft: I hear<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Some vicious fool draw near,<br>
+That cries, we dream, and swears there&rsquo;s no such thing,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As this chaste love we sing.<br>
+Peace, Luxury! thou art like one of those<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Who, being at sea, suppose,<br>
+Because they move, the continent doth so:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No, Vice, we let thee know<br>
+Though thy wild thoughts with sparrows&rsquo; wings do fly,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Turtles can chastely die;<br>
+And yet (in this t&rsquo; express ourselves more clear)<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;We do not number here<br>
+Such spirits as are only continent,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Because lust&rsquo;s means are spent;<br>
+Or those who doubt the common mouth of fame,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And for their place and name,<br>
+Cannot so safely sin: their chastity<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is mere necessity;<br>
+Nor mean we those whom vows and conscience<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have filled with abstinence:<br>
+Though we acknowledge who can so abstain,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Makes a most bless&egrave;d gain;<br>
+He that for love of goodness hateth ill,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Is more crown-worthy still<br>
+Than he, which for sin&rsquo;s penalty forbears:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His heart sins, though he fears.<br>
+But we propose a person like our Dove,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Graced with a Ph&oelig;nix&rsquo; love;<br>
+A beauty of that clear and sparkling light,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Would make a day of night,<br>
+And turn the blackest sorrows to bright joys:<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Whose odorous breath destroys<br>
+All taste of bitterness, and makes the air<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As sweet as she is fair.<br>
+A body so harmoniously composed,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As if nat&ugrave;re disclosed<br>
+All her best symmetry in that one feature!<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;O, so divine a creature<br>
+Who could be false to? chiefly, when he knows<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;How only she bestows<br>
+The wealthy treasure of her love on him;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Making his fortunes swim<br>
+In the full flood of her admired perfection?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What savage, brute affection,<br>
+Would not be fearful to offend a dame<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Of this excelling frame?<br>
+Much more a noble, and right generous mind,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To virtuous moods inclined,<br>
+That knows the weight of guilt: he will refrain<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;From thoughts of such a strain,<br>
+And to his sense object this sentence ever,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Man may securely sin, but safely never.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+AN ELEGY<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Though beauty be the mark of praise,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And yours, of whom I sing, be such<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As not the world can praise too much,<br>
+Yet is &lsquo;t your virtue now I raise.<br>
+<br>
+A virtue, like allay, so gone<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Throughout your form, as though that move,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And draw, and conquer all men&rsquo;s love,<br>
+This subjects you to love of one,<br>
+<br>
+Wherein you triumph yet: because<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&rsquo;Tis of yourself, and that you use<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The noblest freedom, not to choose<br>
+Against or faith, or honour&rsquo;s laws.<br>
+<br>
+But who could less expect from you,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;In whom alone Love lives again?<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;By whom he is restored to men;<br>
+And kept, and bred, and brought up true?<br>
+<br>
+His falling temples you have reared,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The withered garlands ta&rsquo;en away;<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His altars kept from the decay<br>
+That envy wished, and nature feared;<br>
+<br>
+And on them burns so chaste a flame,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;With so much loyalty&rsquo;s expense,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As Love, t&rsquo; acquit such excellence,<br>
+Is gone himself into your name.<br>
+<br>
+And you are he: the deity<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;To whom all lovers are designed,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That would their better objects find;<br>
+Among which faithful troop am I;<br>
+<br>
+Who, as an offering at your shrine,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Have sung this hymn, and here entreat<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;One spark of your diviner heat<br>
+To light upon a love of mine;<br>
+<br>
+Which, if it kindle not, but scant<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Appear, and that to shortest view,<br>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yet give me leave t&rsquo; adore in you<br>
+What I, in her, am grieved to want.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+Footnotes:<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11">{11}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;So
+live with yourself that you do not know how ill yow mind is furnished.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12">{12}</a>&nbsp; &Alpha;&upsilon;&tau;&omicron;&delta;&iota;&delta;&alpha;&kappa;&tau;&omicron;&sigmaf;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14">{14}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;A
+Puritan is a Heretical Hypocrite, in whom the conceit of his own perspicacity,
+by which he seems to himself to have observed certain errors in a few
+Church dogmas, has disturbed the balance of his mind, so that, excited
+vehemently by a sacred fury, he fights frenzied against civil authority,
+in the belief that he so pays obedience to God.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote17a"></a><a href="#citation17a">{17a}</a>&nbsp; Night
+gives counsel.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote17b"></a><a href="#citation17b">{17b}</a>&nbsp; Plutarch
+in Life of Alexander.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let it not be, O King, that you know
+these things better than I.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote19a"></a><a href="#citation19a">{19a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;They
+were not our lords, but our leaders.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote19b"></a><a href="#citation19b">{19b}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Much
+of it is left also for those who shall be hereafter.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote19c"></a><a href="#citation19c">{19c}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;No
+art is discovered at once and absolutely.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22">{22}</a>&nbsp; With a
+great belly.&nbsp; Comes de Schortenhien.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23">{23}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;In
+all things I have a better wit and courage than good fortune.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote24a"></a><a href="#citation24a">{24a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;The
+rich soil exhausts; but labour itself is an aid.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote24b"></a><a href="#citation24b">{24b}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;And
+the gesticulation is vile.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote25a"></a><a href="#citation25a">{25a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;An
+end is to be looked for in every man, an animal most prompt to change.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote25b"></a><a href="#citation25b">{25b}</a>&nbsp; Arts
+are not shared among heirs.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote31a"></a><a href="#citation31a">{31a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;More
+loquacious than eloquent; words enough, but little wisdom<i>.&rdquo;
+- Sallust.<br>
+<br>
+</i><a name="footnote31b"></a><a href="#citation31b">{31b}</a>&nbsp;
+Repeated in the following Latin.&nbsp; &ldquo;The best treasure is in
+that man&rsquo;s tongue, and he has mighty thanks, who metes out each
+thing in a few words.&rdquo; - <i>Hesiod.<br>
+<br>
+</i><a name="footnote31c"></a><a href="#citation31c">{31c}</a>&nbsp;
+<i>Vid. </i>Zeuxidis pict. Serm. ad Megabizum<i>.</i> - <i>Plutarch.<br>
+<br>
+</i><a name="footnote32a"></a><a href="#citation32a">{32a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;While the unlearned is silent he may be accounted wise, for he
+has covered by his silence the diseases of his mind.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote32b"></a><a href="#citation32b">{32b}</a>&nbsp; Taciturnity.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote33a"></a><a href="#citation33a">{33a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Hold
+your tongue above all things, after the example of the gods.&rdquo;
+- <i>See </i>Apuleius.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote33b"></a><a href="#citation33b">{33b}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Press
+down the lip with the finger.&rdquo; - Juvenal.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote33c"></a><a href="#citation33c">{33c}</a>&nbsp; Plautus.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote33d"></a><a href="#citation33d">{33d}</a>&nbsp; Trinummus,
+Act 2, Scen. 4.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote34a"></a><a href="#citation34a">{34a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;It
+was the lodging of calamity.&rdquo; - Mart. lib. 1, ep. 85.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41">{41}</a>&nbsp; [&ldquo;Ficta
+omnia celeriter tanquam flosculi decidunt, nec simulatum potest quidquam
+esse diuturnum.&rdquo; - Cicero.]<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote44a"></a><a href="#citation44a">{44a}</a>&nbsp; Let
+a Punic sponge go with the book. - Mart. 1. iv. epig. 10.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote47a"></a><a href="#citation47a">{47a}</a>&nbsp; He
+had to be repressed.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote49a"></a><a href="#citation49a">{49a}</a>&nbsp; A wit-stand.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote49b"></a><a href="#citation49b">{49b}</a>&nbsp; Martial.
+lib. xi. epig. 91.&nbsp; That fall over the rough ways and high rocks.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote59a"></a><a href="#citation59a">{59a}</a>&nbsp; Sir
+Thomas More.&nbsp; Sir Thomas Wiat.&nbsp; Henry Earl of Surrey.&nbsp;
+Sir Thomas Chaloner.&nbsp; Sir Thomas Smith.&nbsp; Sir Thomas Eliot.&nbsp;
+Bishop Gardiner.&nbsp; Sir Nicolas Bacon, L.K.&nbsp; Sir Philip Sidney.&nbsp;
+Master Richard Hooker.&nbsp; Robert Earl of Essex.&nbsp; Sir Walter
+Raleigh.&nbsp; Sir Henry Savile.&nbsp; Sir Edwin Sandys.&nbsp; Sir Thomas
+Egerton, L.C.&nbsp; Sir Francis Bacon, L.C.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote62a"></a><a href="#citation62a">{62a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Which
+will secure a long age for the known writer.&rdquo; - Horat. <i>de Art.
+Poetica.<br>
+<br>
+</i><a name="footnote66a"></a><a href="#citation66a">{66a}</a>&nbsp;
+They have poison for their food, even for their dainty.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote74a"></a><a href="#citation74a">{74a}</a>&nbsp; Haud
+infima ars in principe, ubi lenitas, ubi severitas - plus polleat in
+commune bonum callere.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote74b"></a><a href="#citation74b">{74b}</a>&nbsp; <i>i.e.</i>,<i>
+</i>Machiavell.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote81a"></a><a href="#citation81a">{81a}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Censure
+pardons the crows and vexes the doves.&rdquo; - Juvenal.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote81b"></a><a href="#citation81b">{81b}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Does
+not spread his net for the hawk or the kite.&rdquo; - Plautus.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote93"></a><a href="#citation93">{93}</a>&nbsp; Parrhasius.&nbsp;
+Eupompus.&nbsp; Socrates.&nbsp; Parrhasius.&nbsp; Clito.&nbsp; Polygnotus.&nbsp;
+Aglaophon.&nbsp; Zeuxis.&nbsp; Parrhasius.&nbsp; Raphael de Urbino.&nbsp;
+Mich.&nbsp; Angelo Buonarotti.&nbsp; Titian.&nbsp; Antony de Correg.&nbsp;
+Sebast. de Venet.&nbsp; Julio Romano.&nbsp; Andrea Sartorio.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote94"></a><a href="#citation94">{94}</a>&nbsp; Plin.
+lib. 35. c. 2, 5, 6, and 7.&nbsp; Vitruv. lib. 8 and 7.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95">{95}</a>&nbsp; Horat.
+in &ldquo;Arte Poet.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote106a"></a><a href="#citation106a">{106a}</a>&nbsp;
+Livy, Sallust, Sidney, Donne, Gower, Chaucer, Spenser, Virgil, Ennius,
+Homer, Quintilian, Plautus, Terence.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote110a"></a><a href="#citation110a">{110a}</a>&nbsp;
+The interpreter of gods and men.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote111a"></a><a href="#citation111a">{111a}</a>&nbsp;
+Julius C&aelig;sar.&nbsp; Of words, <i>see</i> Hor. &ldquo;De Art. Poet.;&rdquo;
+Quintil. 1. 8, &ldquo;Ludov. Vives,&rdquo; pp. 6 and 7.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote111b"></a><a href="#citation111b">{111b}</a>&nbsp;
+A prudent man conveys nothing rashly.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote114a"></a><a href="#citation114a">{114a}</a>&nbsp;
+That jolt as they fall over the rough places and the rocks.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote116a"></a><a href="#citation116a">{116a}</a>&nbsp;
+Directness enlightens, obliquity and circumlocution darken.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote117a"></a><a href="#citation117a">{117a}</a>&nbsp;
+Ocean trembles as if indignant that you quit the land.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote117b"></a><a href="#citation117b">{117b}</a>&nbsp;
+You might believe that the uprooted Cyclades were floating in.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote118a"></a><a href="#citation118a">{118a}</a>&nbsp;
+Those armies of the people of Rome that might break through the heavens.
+- C&aelig;sar.&nbsp; Comment. circa fin.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote124a"></a><a href="#citation124a">{124a}</a>&nbsp;
+No one can speak rightly unless he apprehends wisely.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote133a"></a><a href="#citation133a">{133a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Where the discussion of faults is general, no one is injured.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote133b"></a><a href="#citation133b">{133b}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Gnaw tender little ears with biting truth - <i>Per Sat</i>. 1.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote133c"></a><a href="#citation133c">{133c}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The wish for remedy is always truer than the hope. - <i>Livius.<br>
+<br>
+</i><a name="footnote136a"></a><a href="#citation136a">{136a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;&AElig;neas dedicates these arms concerning the conquering Greeks.&rdquo;
+- <i>Virg. &AElig;n. </i>lib. 3.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote136b"></a><a href="#citation136b">{136b}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;You buy everything, Castor; the time will come when you will
+sell everything.&rdquo; - <i>Martial</i>,<i> </i>lib. 8, epig. 19.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote136c"></a><a href="#citation136c">{136c}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Cinna wishes to seem poor, and is poor.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote136d"></a><a href="#citation136d">{136d}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Which is evident in every first song.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote139a"></a><a href="#citation139a">{139a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;There is a god within us, and when he is stirred we grow warm;
+that spirit comes from heavenly realms.&rdquo;<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote146a"></a><a href="#citation146a">{146a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;If it were allowable for immortals to weep for mortals, the Muses
+would weep for the poet N&aelig;vius; since he is handed to the chamber
+of Orcus, they have forgotten how to speak Latin at Rome.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote148a"></a><a href="#citation148a">{148a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;No one has judged poets less happily than he who wrote about
+them.&rdquo;<i> - Senec. de Brev</i>. <i>Vit</i>, cap. 13, et epist.
+88.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote149a"></a><a href="#citation149a">{149a}</a>&nbsp;
+Heins, de Sat. 265.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote149b"></a><a href="#citation149b">{149b}</a>&nbsp;
+Pag. 267.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote149c"></a><a href="#citation149c">{149c}</a>&nbsp;
+Pag. 270. 271.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote149d"></a><a href="#citation149d">{149d}</a>&nbsp;
+Pag. 273, <i>et seq</i>.<br>
+<br>
+<a name="footnote149e"></a><a href="#citation149e">{149e}</a>&nbsp;
+Pag. in comm. 153, <i>et seq.<br>
+<br>
+</i><a name="footnote160a"></a><a href="#citation160a">{160a}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;And which jolt as they fall over the rough uneven road and high
+rocks.&rdquo; - <i>Martial</i>, lib. xi. epig. 91.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, DISCOVERIES ***<br>
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