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UNDERWOODS.
VOL. IX.
A PINDARIC ODE
TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY AND FRIENDSHIP OF THAT NOBLE PAIR,
SIR LUCIUS GARY,
AND
SIR H. MORISON.
B2
[4]
A PINDARIC ODE, &c.] In that MS. volume, which I have supposed to be compiled by order of the earl of Newcastle, there is a letter to him from Jonson, inclosing a few poems on himself. " My noblest lord, (he says,) and my patron by ex- cellence, I have here obeyed your commands, and sent you a packet of mine own praises, which I should not have done, if I had any stock of modesty in store : — ' but obedience is better than sacrifice ;' and yon command it."
Two of the inclosures are from (lord Falkland) sir Lucius Gary. The first he calls " An Anniversary Epistle on sir Henry Morison, with an Apostrophe to my father Jonson."
" Noble Father,
" I must imitate master Gamaliel Du : both in trou- bling you with ill verses, and the intention of professing my service to you by them. It is an Anniversary to sir Henry Morison, in which, because there is something concerns some way an antagonist of yours,* I have applied it to you. Though he may be angry at it, I am yet certain that tale temper amentum sequar lit de us queri non poterit si de se bene sentiat. What is ill in them (which I fear is all) belongs only to myself : if there be any thing tolerable, it is somewhat you dropt negligently one day at the Dog, and I took up.
Tu tantum accipies ego te legisse putabo Et tumidus Gallce credulitatefruar."
Sir, I am
Your son and servant."
It appears that this was the third " Anniversary" which sir Lucius had written ; and as Jonson's letter is fortunately dated, (Feb. 4th, 1631,) we are authorised to place the death of young Morison in 1629, which must also be the date of the Ode.
Nothing can exceed the affectionate warmth with which sir Lucius speaks of his friend, who appears, indeed, to have de- served all his kindness.
" He had an infant's innocence and truth, The judgment of gray hairs, the wit of youth, Not a young rashness, nor an ag'd despair, The courage of the one, the other's care; And both of them might wonder, to discern His ableness to teach, his skill to learn,'* &c.
* This antagonist is Quarles. It (Joes not appear why he was hostile to Jonson. Sir Henry says little more than that the subdued and careless tone of his divine poetry is suitable to the expression of sorrow.
[5]
Among other topics of praise, his friendship and respect for our author are noticed :
" And next his admiration fix'd on thee, Our Metropolitan in poetry," &c.
The second inclosure of sir Lucius is a poetical " Epistle to his noble father Ben/' In this he gives the commencement of their acquaintance, in an elegant application to himself of the fable of the fox, who first feared the lion, then grew familiar with him, &c.
" I thought you proud, for I did surely know, Had I Ben Jonson been, I had been so : Now I recant, and doubt whether your store Of ingenuity,* or ingine be more."
and he adds a wish, which was probably accompanied with some token of his kindness :
u I wish your wealth were equal to them both ; You have deserv'd it : and I should be loth That want should a quotidian trouble be. To such a Zeno in philosophy."
At what period the acquaintance of this " noble pair" begun I know not. They seem to have travelled together. Not long after the return of sir Lucius Gary to England, their intimacy was still more closely cemented by his growing attachment to Letitia, the sister of sir Henry Morison, and the daughter of sir Richard Morison of Tooley Park, in Leicestershire, whom, to the displeasure of his father (for the lady had no fortune) he subsequently married. The amiable youth did not live to witness this event, which took place in 1630, when Lucius was in his twentieth year. " She was a lady" (lord Clarendon says) a of a most extraordinary wit (sense) and judgment, and of the most signal virtue, and exemplary life, that the age produced, and who brought him many hopeful children in which he took great delight."
The life and death of this most distinguished nobleman are familiar to every reader of English history. Lord Clarendon, who knew him well, having lived, as he says, u on terms of the most unreserved friendship with him from the age of twenty to the hour of his death," has given in the History of the Rebellion,
* Of ingenuity.] i. e. of ingenuousness, candour, frankness : ingine (wit) is used in the large sense of genius and talents; the common acceptation of the word in that age.
[6]
a delineation of his character replete with grace, elegance, strength, and beauty, warm with truth, and glowing with ge- nuine admiration ; which yet does not go beyond what was said and thought of him by his contemporaries : and it is quite amusing to find Horace Walpole indulging a hope to counteract the effect of lord Clarendon's description, with a few miserable inuendos and captious quibbles, and persuade us that his friend was little better than a driveller. It is the frog of the fable, waddling after the lordly bull, with a view to efface the print of his footsteps.
Warburton says well in his letters to Kurd that " Walpole (whom he terms a most insufferable coxcomb) after reading Clarendon, would blush, if he had any sense of shame, for his abuse of lord Falkland." But Walpole had no sense of shame. He persecuted lord Falkland, as he did the gallant and high- spirited duke of Newcastle, because he was loyal to his prince.
Walpole is particularly severe upon lord Falkland's poetry. Much need not be said of it : — but when it is considered that this illustrious nobleman always speaks of it himself with the greatest modesty, and that his little pieces are nothing more than occasional tributes of love and duty, the sneer of such an Aristarchus will not appear particularly well directed. It is true, that Walpole was only acquainted with the lines in the Jonsonus Virbius : — but had he known of those, which are now mentioned, for the first time, he would not have abated of his virulence ; for he had adopted the opinion of his " clawback," Pinkerton, respecting Jonson, and any additional praise of him would therefore only call forth additional abuse of the writer.
There is another part of lord Falkland's character particularly obnoxious to the critic. " He (lord Falkland) had naturally,'* (lord Clarendon says, in the History of his own Life) " such a generosity and bounty in him, that he seemed to have his estate in trust for all worthy persons who stood in want of supplies and encouragement, as BEN JONSON and others of that time, whose fortunes required, and whose spirits made them superior to ordinary obligations." Walpole, who never bestowed a six- pence on any worthy object or person, and who conti- nued, to extreme old age, to fumble with his gold, till his fingers, like those of Midas, grew encrusted with it. must have been greatly scandalized at this, and probably drew from* it his shrewd conclusion that lord Falkland " had much debility of mind." To have done with this calumniator of true patriotism, loyalty and virtue — though gorged to the throat with sine- cures, he was always railing at corruption, and indulging., with the low scribblers whose flattery he purchased w ith praise^
[7]
(for he gave nothing else, except the hope of a legacy, which he never intended to realize*) in splenetic sneers at kings and courtiers : he called himself a republican, and uttered many grievous complaints of the loss of liberty, &c., and yet went crying out of the world because the French were putting his hopeful maxims of reform into practice.
A Pindaric Ode, &c.] In the edition of 1640, in 12mo. this poem is called A Pindaric Ode ; a title left out in all subsequent editions, and which I have now restored. For this ode is a true and regular Pindaric, and the first in our language, that hath a just claim to that title. Jonson was perfectly acquainted with the manner of Pindar, and hath followed it with great exactness in the structure of this poem. The terms of art, denoted by the turn, the counter-turn^ and the stand^ are a translation of the strophe, the antistroph^ and epode, which divided the Greek odes. The English reader may possibly be desirous to have them more particularly explained ; what I have to say therefore on this point, I shall take the liberty to borrow from the learned Mr. West's preface to his elegant translation of the Odes of Pindar. It is chicly built upon a passage in the Scholia on Jffe- phcestion. " The ancients, says the scholiast, in their odes framed two larger stanzas, and one less : the first of the large stanzas they called strophe, singing it on their festivals at the altars of their gods, and dancing at the same time. The second they called antistrophe, in which they inverted the dance : the lesser stanza was named the epode^ which they sung standing still. From this passage, (continues Mr. West,) it appears evi- dent, that these odes were accompanied with dancing, and that they danced one way while the strophe, was singing, and then danced back again while the dntistrophe was sung : which shews why these two parts consisted of the same length and measure: then when the dancers were returned to the place whence they set out, before they renewed the dance, they stood still while the epode was sung. Such was the structure of the Greek ode, in which the strophe and antistropke^ i. e. the first and second stanzas, contained always the same number, and the same kind of verses : the epode was of a different length and measure : and if the ode ran out into any length, it was always divided into triplets of stanzas , the two first being constantly of the same
* On this point Mr. Pinkerton is peculiarly affecting, in the Preface to his Walpoliana.
[8]
length and measure ; and all the epodes in like manner corre- sponding exactly with each other : from all which the regu- larity of this kind of compositions is sufficiently evident." Thus far this ingenious gentleman. There is one remark, however, to be made upon the scholiast of Hephaestion ; who supposeth the epode to be always the lesser stanza, or to contain fewer verses than either the strophe or antistrophe : but this is not true in fact : the cpodes of Pindar are various ; some of them fall short of the stroph^ some have an equal number of verses, and others again exceed it : and Jonson hath made his stand to be longer than the turn or counter-turn^ by the addition of a couplet. The reader will, I hope, excuse the prolixity of this note ; I have been the more exact in explaining the true nature of the Pindaric ode, as the poem before us does honour to Jonson's learning and knowledge in ancient criticism, and as the idea we have formed from compositions of this kind, by many modern poets, gives us but a very distorted likeness of the great original : a much better copy was taken by our au- thor, than what appears in those collections of lines of all lengths and sizes, which have been passed upon the world as translations or imitations of Pindar. WHAL.
I agree with Whalley. Nothing but ignorance of the exist- ence of this noble Ode can excuse the critics, from Dryden downwards, for attributing the introduction of the Pindaric Ode into our language to Cowley. Cowley mistook the very nature of Pindar's poetry, at least of such as is come down to us, and while he professed to "imitate the style and manner of his Odes/' was led away by the ancient allusions to those wild and wonderful strains of which not a line has reached us. The metre of Pindar is regular, that of Cowley is utterly lawless ; and his perpetual straining after points of wit, seems to shew that he had formed no corrector notion of his manner than of his style. It is far worse when he leaves his author, and sets up for a Pindaric writer on his own account : — but I am not about to criticize Cowley.
In Jonson's Ode we have the very soul of Pindar. His artful but unlaboured plan, his regular returns of metre, his interestin pathos, his lofty morality, his sacred tone of feeling occasion, ally enlivened by apt digression, or splendid illustration. j-To be short, there have been Odes more sublime, Odes far more poetical than this before us, but none that in Cowley 's words, so successfully " copy the style and manner of the Odes of Pindar." As Jonson was his first, so is he his best, imitator.
[9]
LXXXVIII. A PINDARIC ODE
ON THE DEATH OF SIR H. MORISON. I.
THE STROPHE, OR
TURN.
Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year,1 When the prodigious Hannibal did crown His rage, 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 summ'd a circle didst thou leave mankind Of deepest lore, could AVC the centre find !
1 Brave infant ofSaguntum, clear
Thy coming forth, &c.] Saguntum was a city of Spain, memorable for its fidelity to the Romans, and the miseries it underwent when besieged by Hannibal. It was at last taken by storm ; but the inhabitants, who before had suffered all extre- mities, committed themselves and their effects to the flames, ra- ther than fall into the hands of their enemy. The story to which Jonson here refers, is thus told by Pliny ; Est inter exempla, in uterum protimts reversus infans Sagunti^ quo anno ab Annibalc dekta est. L. 7. c. 3. WHAL.
It ought to be observed that the word Pindaric was not pre- fixed by Jonson : in the Museum MS. the poem is simply called 4» An Ode on the dea.th of sir H. Morison."
10 UNDERWOODS.
THE ANTI STROP HE,
OR 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 hurl'd Upon th* affrighted world ;
Fire, famine, and 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 EPODE,
OR STAND.
For what is life, if measur'd by the space,
Not by the act ? Or masked man, if valued by his face,
Above his fact ? Here's one outliv'd his peers, And told forth fourscore years :2
* Herts one outliv'd his peers.
And told forth four score y€ars.~\ Perhaps this, and what fol- lows in the next stanza, was intended as a character of Car,
UNDERWOODS. 11
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 STROPHE, OR
TURN.
He enter'd well by virtuous parts, Got up, and thriv'd 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 stoop'd 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 buoy'd him up.
who, taken into favour by James I. was at length advanced to the earldom of Somerset. The particulars of his history are well known. WHAL.
This does not apply to Carr, who could not have told forth much above forty years, when the Ode was written. It seems to refer rather to the old earl of Northampton : but, perhaps, no particular person was meant, though the poetical character might be strengthened and illustrated by traits incidentally drawn from real life.
12 UNDERWOODS.
THE ANTISTIIOPHE,
OR COUNTER-TURN.
Alas ! but MOHISON fell young : 3 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 EPODE,
OR STAND.
Go now, and tell our days summ'd 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 shew thou hast been long, Not li v'd ; 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
3 Alas! but Morison fell young:] There was then* ano- ther conformity between the destinies of the noble pair, which, however, Jonson did not live to witness ; for Lucius himself had scarcely attained his thirty-third year, when he also fell, glo- riously fell, in the field of honour, and in the cause of his sovereign and hi§ country, at the battle of Newbury.
UNDERWOODS. 13
Each syllabe answer'd, and was form'd, how- fair; These make the lines of life, and that's her air !
III.
THE STROPHE,
OR 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.
* It is not growing like a tree, &c.] " The qualities of vivid perception and happy expression" (it is said in the Life of John Dryderi) "unite in many passages of Shakspeare; but such Jonson — poor Ben's unarmed head is made a quintain upon all occasions — " but such Jonson was unequal to produce, and he substituted strange, forced, and most unnatural analogies." p.xi. For the proof of this we are referred to the present ode, which, with the rest of Jonson's " Pindarics" (where are they to be found ?) is treated with the most sovereign contempt. u In reading Jonson (it is added/ we have often to marvel how his conceptions could have occurred to any human being. Shakspeare is like an ancient statue, the beauty of which, &c. Jonson is the representation of a monster, which is at first only surprising, and ludicrous and disgusting ever after." p. xii.
14 UNDERWOODS.
THE ANTISTROPHE,
OR 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 leap'd the present age, Possest 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 EPODE,
OR 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 exprest,
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 Dioscuri ; 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, —
UNDERWOODS. 15
IV.
THE STROPHE,
OR 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 feign'd protests : But simple love of greatness and of good, That knits brave minds and manners, more than blood.
THE ANTISTROPHE,
OR 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 liv'd to be the great sir-names,
And titles, by which all made claims Unto the Virtue : nothing perfect done, But as a GARY, or a MORISON.
16 UNDERWOODS.
THE EPODE,
OR 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 on the chin, Had sow'd these fruits, and got the harvest in.
UNDERWOODS. 17
LXXXIX.
AN EPIGRAM
TO WILLIAM EARL OF NEWCASTLE.*
ON HIS FENCING.
They talk of Fencing, and the use of arms, The art of urging and avoiding harms,
1 Jonson's connection with the family of this distinguished nobleman was close and of long continuance. He has monu- mental verses on several of its members ; those which follow are extracted from the MS. volume in the British Museum.
" CHARLES CAVENDISH
TO HIS POSTERITY.
Sons, seek not me among these polish'd stones-^
These only hide part of my flesh and bones,
Which, did they e'er so neat and proudly dwell,
Would all turn dust, and should not make me swell.
Let such as justly have outliv'd all praise,
Trust in the tombs their careful friends do raise ;
I made my Life my monument, and yours.
Than which there's no material more endures," &c.
Sir Charles Cavendish, who thus addresses his children, was the third son of sir William Cavendish, deservedly known and esteemed, as the faithful and confidential servant of cardinal Wolsey. He died in 1618, and was succeeded, in his vast es- tates, by his eldest son, William, the munificent friend and pro- tector of our poet.
" EPirAPH
ON LADY KATHERINE OGLE.
She was the light (without reflex Upon herself) of all her sex, VOL, XT, C
18 UNDERWOODS.
x
The noble science, and the mastering skill Of making just approaches how to kill ;
The best of women ! — Her whole life
Was the example of a wife,
Or of a parent, or a friend I
AH circles had their spring and end
In her, and what could perfect be
And without angles, IT WAS SHE. —
All that was solid in the name Of virtue ; precious in the frame, Or else magnetic in the force, Or sweet, or various, in the course ; What was proportion, or could be By warrant call'd just symmetry In number, measure, or degree Of weight or fashion, IT WAS SHE. —
Her soul possest her flesh's state In freehold, not as an inmate, And when the flesh here shut up day, Fame's heat upon the grave did stay, And hourly brooding o'er the same, Keeps warm the spice of her good name. Until the ashes turned be Into a Phoenix — WHICH is SHE,"
This lady, the second wife of sir Charles Cavendish, and mother of the duke of Newcastle, was the daughter and coheir of Cuthbert, lord Ogle. She outlifed her husband several years, and was declared baroness Ogle in 1628.
« EPITAPH
ON THE LADY JANE.
I could begin with that grave form Here lies (And bid thee, reader, bring thy weeping eyes To see who 'tis — ) a noble countess, great In blood, in birth, by match and by her seat, Religious, wise, chaste, loving, virtuous, good And number attributes unto a flood ; But every tablet in this church doth tell Such things of every body, and as well- But I would have thee to know something new, Not usual in a lady, and yet true,
UNDERWOODS. 19
To hit in angles, and to clash with time : As all defence or offence were a chime !
At least so great a lady — she was wife
But of one husband, and since he left life,
But sorrow she desired no other friend)
And her, she made her inmate, to the end.
To call on sickness still to be her guest,
Whom she with sorrow first did lodge, then feast,
Then entertain, and as death's harbinger,
So woo'd at last that he was won to her
Importune wish, and by her lov'd lord's side
To lay her here, inclosed, his second bride ;
Where, spight of death, next life, for her love's sake
This second marriage will eternal make/'
This Jane was the eldest daughter of lord Ogle, and sister of the lady just mentioned. She married Edward, eighth earl of Shrewsbury, (younger brother of the Gilbert so often noticed,) and died in l625, having survived her husband about seven years.
I have not copied the whole. Enough, however, is given to shew that the assistance of Jonson was called in upon every occasion, whether of melancholy or mirth.
The volume from which this was taken, contains also an Inter- lude, never yet noticed by the poet's biographers. It has neither title nor date ; but appears to have been written by him for the christening of a son of the earl of Newcastle, to which the king or the prince (both seem to have been present) stood godfather. It consists principally of the unrestrained and characteristic tattle of three gossips ; and though the language may appear somewhat too free for the present times, yet as a matter of curiosity, I have ventured to subjoin the chief part of it.
The Scene is the earl of Newcastle's house, in the Black Friars.
" At the entrance to the Banquet, A Forester.
Sir, you are welcome to the forest : you have seen a battle upon a table, now you see a hunting.* 1 know not what the
* It appears that the table represented a hunting scene in
20 UNDERWOOD S.
I hate such measured, give me mettled, fire, That trembles in the blaze, but then mounts higher !
game will prove, but the ground is well clothed with trees. The most of these deer will come to hand— if they take cover, sir, down with the woods, for the hunting is meant to be so royal as trees, dogs, deer, all mean to be a part of the quarry.
In the Passage.
DUGCS, wet nurse ; KECKS, dry nurse ; and HOLDBACK, midwife.
Duggs. Are they coming ? where ? which are the gossips ?
Kecks. Peace, here they come all.
Duggs. I'll up and get me a standing behind the arras.
Hold. You'll be thrust there, i'faith, nurse.
Kecks. *
Hold. No ; he with the blue riband, peace !
Kecks. O, sweet gentleman ! he a gossip! he were fitter to be a father, i'faith.
Hold. So they were both, an 'twere fortune's good plea- sure to send it.
At the Banquet.
HOLDBACK enters with the child, DUGGS and KECKS. Hold. Now heaven multiply your highness and my ho-
sweetmeats. We cannot easily conceive the enormous sums expended in constructing those banquets. Every object of art or nature was represented in them ; and castles and towers and towns were reared of march-pane of a size that would confound the faculties of the confectioners of these degenerate days. The courtier, like the citizen, was a moit Jierce devourer of plums, and the ships, bulwarks, forests, &c. that were not eaten on the spot, were conveyed into the pockets of the guests, and carried off, without stint and without shame.
* A short question was probably overlooked by the scribe.
UNDERWOODS. 21
A quick and dazzling motion; when a pair Of bodies meet like rarified air !
nourable lord too, and my good lady the countess. I have one word for you all, Welcome! which is enough to the wise, and as good as a hundred, you know. This is my day. My lords and my ladies, how like you my boy ? is't not a goodly boy ? I said his name would be Charles when I look'd upon Charles' wain t'other night. He was born under that star — I have given measure, i'faith, he'll prove a pricker by one privy mark that I found about him. Would you had such another, my lord gossips, every one of you, and as like the father. O what a glad woman and a proud should I be to be seen at home with you upon the same occasion !
Duggs. Come, come, never push for it, woman ; I know my place. It is before, and I would not have you mistake it.
Kecks. Then belike my place is behind.
Duggs. Be it where it will, I'll appear.
Hold. How now, what's the matter with you two ?
Duggs. Why, mistress- Kecks, the dry nurse, strives to have place.
Kecks. Yes, mistress Duggs, I do indeed.
Hold. What ! afore the Prince ! are you so unrude and uncivil ?
Kecks. Why not afore the Prince ? (worshipp'd might he be) I desire no better a judge.
Hold. No ! and my lord Chancery here ? Do you know what you say ? Go to, nurse, have done, let the music have their part. You have made a joyful house here, i'faith ; the glad lady within in the straw, I hope, has thanked you for her little carl, the little Christian — such a comfortable day as this will ever make the father ready to adventure for another, in my conscience. Sing sweetly, I pray you, an you have a good breast, out with it for my lord's credit.
SONG.
If now as merry you could be
As you are welcome here, Who wait would have no time to see
The meanness of the cheer.
22 UNDERWOODS.
Their weapons darted with that flame and force, As they out-did the lightning in the course;
But you that deign the place and lord
So much o' bounty and grace, Read not the banquet on his board,
But that within his face.
Where if, by 'engaging of his heart,
He yet could set forth more, The world would scarce afford a part
Of such imagined store.
All had been had that could be wish'd
Upon so rich a pawn, Were it ambrosia to be dish'd,
Or nectar to be drawn.
Duggs, How, dame ! a dry nurse better than a wet nurse ?
Kecks. Ay. Is not summer better than winter ?
Duggs. O, you dream of a dry summer.
Kecks. And you are so wet, you are the worse again. Do you remember my lady Kickup's child, that you gave such a bleaching to 'twas never clear since?
Duggs. That was my lady Kickup's own doing, and not mine.
Kecks. 'Twas yours — and you shrunk in the wetting for't, if you be remembered ; for she turned you away, I am sure. — Wet moons, you know,, were ever good weed springers.
Duggs. My moon's no wetter than thine, goody Caudle- xnaker.
Hold. Why, can I carry no sway nor stroke among you ! Will you open yourselves thus, and let every one enter into your secrets ? — I am nobody I, I know nothing ! I am a mid- wife of this month ! I never held a lady's back till now, you think.
Duggs. We never thought so, mistress Holdback.
Hold. Go to, you do think so, upon the point, and say as much in your behaviour. Who, I pray you, provided your places for you ? was't not I ? — I told her ladyship at first the was sped, and then upon her pain after drinking the mead
UNDERWOODS. 33
This were a spectacle, a sight to draw Wonder to valour ! No, it is the law
and the hydromel, I assured her it was so without all perad- venture — I know nothing ! After this, when my lord was deporfunate with me to know my opinion whether it was a boy or a girl that her ladyship went withal, I had not my signs and my prognostics about me — as the goodness of her ladyship's complexion, the coppedness of her belly, on the right side, the lying of it so high, to pronounce it a boy ! Nor T could not say upon the difference of the paps, when the right breast grew harder, the nipple red, rising like a strawberry, the milk white, and standing like pearls upon my nail, a boy still for my money ! — No, upon the very day of my lady's labour, when the wives came in, I offered not wagers, not the odds three to one, having observed the moon the night before, and that her ladyship set her right foot fore- most, the right pulse beat quicker and stronger, and her right eye grown and sparkling! lassure your lordship I offered to hold master doctor a Discretion it was a boy ; and if his rloctorship had laid with me and ventured, he had lost his dis- cretion.
Kec/cs. Why, here's nobody calls your skill in question ; we know that you can tell when a woman goes with a tym- pany or a mole.
Hold. Ay, and whether it be a wind or a water mole, I thank God, and our mistress Nature : she is God's cham- bermaid, and the midwife is her's. — We can examine the sufficiency and capability of persons by our places : we try all conclusions. Many a good thing passes through the midwife's hand, many a merry tale by her mouth, many a glad cup through her lips: she is the leader of wives, and the queen of the gossips.
Kecks. But what is this to us, mistress Holdback — as to which is the better nurse, the wet or the dry ?
Hold. Nay, make an end of that between yourselves. I am sure I am dry with talking to you. Give rile a cup of hippocras.
Duggs. Why, see there now whether dryness be not a defect out of her own mouth, that she is fain to call for moisture to wet her ! Does not the infant do so when it would suck ? What stills the child when it is dry but the teat ?
24 UNDERWOODS.
Of daring not to do a wrong; 'tis true Valour to slight it, being done to you.
Kecks. But when it is wet, in the blankets, with your superfluities, what quiets it then ? It is not the two bottles at the breasts, that when you have emptied you do nothing but drink to fill again, will do it. It is the opening of him, and the washing and the cleansing, and especially the drying that nourishes the child — clearing his eyes and nostrils, wiping his ears, fashioning his head with stroking it between the hands, forming his mouth for kissing again he come to age, laying his legs and arms straight, and swathing them so justly as his mother's maids may leap at him when he boun- ces out on his blankets. These are the offices of a nurse ! — What beauty would ever behold him hereafter if I now by negligence of binding should either make him cramp-shoul- dered, crooked-legg'd, splay-footed, or by careless placing the candle in a wrong light should send him forth into the world with a pair of false eyes ! No 'tis the nurse, and by excel- lence, the dry nurse, that gives him fashionable feet, legs, hands, mouth, eyes, nose, or whatever, in member else, is acceptable to ladies.
Duggs. Nay, there you wrong mistress Holdback, for it is she that gives him measure, I'm sure. Hold. Ay, and I'll justify his measure. Duggs. But what increases that measure, but his milk and his battening?
Kecks. Yes, and your eating and drinking to get more ; your decoctions and caudles— -thou mis-proud creature, I am ashamed of thee !
Duggs. How enviously she talks ! as if any nearer or nobler office could be done the child than to feed him, or any more necessary than to encrease that which is its nutri- ment, from both which I am truly and principally named his nurse.
Kecks. Principally! O the pride of thy paps ! —as if tljere were no nutriment but milk, or nothing could nurse a child but sucking ! Why, if there were no milk in nature, is there no other food ? — How were my lady provided else against your going to man, if the toy should take you, and corrupting your milk that way ?
UNDERWOODS. 25
To know the heads of danger, where 'tis fit To bend, to break, provoke, or suffer it ;
How ! I go to man, and corrupt my milk, thou dried eel-skin !
Kecks. You, mistress wet-eel -by-the-tail, if you have a mind to it. Such a thing has been done.
Duggs. I defy thee, I, thou onion-eater ! And, now I think on't, rny lady shall know of your close diet, your cheese and chibbols, with your fresh tripe and garlick, — it makes a sweet perfume in the nursery !
Hold. Ay, by my faith — but pack you both hence— here comes a wise man will tell us another tale.
'Enter a Mathematician.*
'Tis clear, in heaven all good aspects agree
To bless with wonder this nativity ;
But what needs this our star so far extend
When here a star shines that doth far transcend
In all benevolence, and sways more power
To rule his whole life, than the star his hour ?
For in a prince are all things, since they all
To him as to their end in nature fall,
As from him being their fount, all are produced,
Heaven's right through his, where'er he rules, diffused
This child then from his bounty shall receive,
Judgment in all things, what to take or leave ;
Matter to speak, and sharpness to dispute
Of every action, both the root and fruit,
Truly foreseeing in his each fit deed,
Wisdom to attempt and spirit to proceed ;
In mirth ingenious he shall be, in game
He shall gain favour, in things serious, fame.
Dissensions shall he shun and peace pursue,
Friendships, by frailties broke, he shall renew.
Virtue by him shall gain agen her youth,
And joy as much therein as in her truth.
All helpless chances he shall free indure,
And, perils past, at length survive secure ;
* i. e. an astrologer.
26 UNDERWOODS,
All this, my lord, is valour : this is yours,1 And was your father's, all your ancestors I
This is the song wherewith his fates are full, That spin his thread out of their whitest wool."
This is followed by a ridiculous Song describing a battle between the Nurses within.
The Watermen of the Black-Friars are then introduced into the Hall, with a
SONG.
" They say it is merry when gossips do meet, And more to confirm it, in us you may see't, For we have well tasted the wine in the street, And yet we make shift to stand on our feet.
As soon as we heard the Prince would be here, We knew by his coming we should have good cheer ; A boy for my lady ! — thus every year, Cry we—for a girl will afford us but beer."
Two or three others follow. Then this SONG.
" Fresh as the day, and neiv as are the hours, Our first of fruits, that is the prime of flowers Bred by your breath on this low bank of ours
Now in a garland by the Graces knit
Upon this obelisk, advanced for it,
We off eras a circle the most fit,
To crown the years, which you begin, great king, And you with them, as father of our spring.19
And the piece concludes with a Song of several stanzas
t' or genius' from the earl's
* All this, my lord, is valour : this is yours, Ac.l This was written many years before the earl of Newcastle, (or, as The
UNDERWOODS. 27
Who durst live great 'mongst all the colds and
heats
Of human life; as all the frosts and sweats Of fortune, when or death appear'd, or bands : And valiant were, with or without their hands*
xc.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE
LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND,*
AN EPISTLE MENDICANT,
MDCXXXI.
MY LORD,
Poor wretched states, prest by extremities, Are fain to seek for succours and supplies Of princes aids, or good men's charities.
Disease the enemy, and his ingineers,
Want, with the rest of his conceal'd compeers,
Have cast a trench about me, now -five years,
And made those strong approaches by false brays, Redouts, half-moons, horn-works, and such close
ways, The muse not peeps out, one of hundred days;
MS. terms him, of Mansfield) took up arms in the defence of his king and country. Jonson knew his patrons ; and it may be added, to the credit of his discernment, that few of them belied his praises.
3 Richard, lord Weston. He was appointed to this office in 1 6 28, and was succeeded at his death, in 1634, by a commission, at the head of which was Laud. 1 his Epistle enables us to as- certain the commencement of that illness which, after a tedious and painful conflict of eleven years, terminated the poet's life in 1637.
28 UNDERWOODS.
But lies block'd up, and straiten'd, narrow'd in, Fix'd to the bed and boards, unlike to win Health, or scarce breath, as she had never been;
Unless some saving honour of the crown, Dare think it, to relieve, no less renown, A bed-rid wit, than a besieged town.
XCI.
TO THE KING
ON HIS BIRTH-DAY,
Nov. 19, MDCXXXII. AN EPIGRAM ANNIVERSARY.
This is king Charles his day. Speak it, thou Tower,
Unto the ships, and they from tier to tier, Discharge it 'bout the island in an hour,
As loud as thunder, and as swift as fire. Let Ireland meet it out at sea, half-way,
Repeating all Great Britain's joy and more, Adding her own glad accents to this day,
Like Echo playing from the other shore. What drums or trumpets, or great ordnance can,
The poetry of steeples, with the bells, Three kingdoms mirth, in light and aery man,
Made lighter with the wine. All noises else, At bonfires, rockets, fire-works, with the shouts
That cry that gladness which their hearts
would pray, Had they but grace of thinking, at these routs,
On the often coming of this holy day :
UNDERWOODS. 29
And ever close the burden of the song, Still to have such a Charles, but this Charles long.
The wish is great ; but where the prince is such, What prayers, people, can you think too much !
XCIL
ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
A^ND VIRTUOUS LORD WESTON,
LORD HIGH TREASURER OF ENGLAND,
UPON THE DAY HE WAS MADE EARL OF PORTLAND,
Feb. 17, MDCXXXII.
TO THE ENVIOUS.4
Look up, thou seed of envy, and still bring Thy faint and narrow eyes to read the king In his great actions : view whom his large hand Hath raised to be the PORT unto his LAND! Weston ! that waking man, that eye of state ! Who seldom sleeps ! whom bad men only hate ! 'Why do I irritate or stir up thee, Thou sluggish spawn, that canst, but wiltnot see !
4 To the Envious.'] Weston had many enemies, and his sudden rise was not seen without jealousy. Charles appears to have entertained an extraordinary regard for him, probably on ac- count of his being warmly recommended by the duke of Buckingham, whose favour, however, he is said to have outlived. The treasurer seems to have been an imprudent, improvident man ; with considerable talents for business, but fickle and irresolute. He died, lord Clarendon says, without being la. mented, " bitterly mentioned by those who never pretended
30 UNDERWOODS.
Feed on thyself for spight, and shew thy kind ; To virtue and true worth be ever blind. Dream thou couldst hurt it, but before thou wake To effect it, feel thou'st made thine own heart ache.
XCIII.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HlEROME, LORD
WESTON,*
AN ODE GRATULATORY,
FOR HIS RETURN FROM HIS EMBASSY,
MDCXXXII.
Such pleasure as the teeming earth
Doth take in easy nature's birth, When she puts forth the life of every thing ;
And in a dew of sweetest rain,
She lies deliver'd without pain, Of the prime beauty of the year, the Spring,
The rivers in their shores do run, The clouds rack clear before the sun,
The rudest winds obey the calmest air; Rare plants from every bank do rise, And every plant the sense surprise,
Because the order of the whole is fair !
The very verdure of her nest, Wherein she sits so richly drest, As all the wealth of season there was spread,
to love him, and severely censured by those who expected most from him and deserved best of him."
1 The eldest son of the earl of Portland ; a young man of amiable manners, and of talents and worth.
UNDERWOODS. 31
Doth shew the Graces and the Hours6 Have multiplied their arts and powers, In making soft her aromatic bed.
Such joys, such sweets, doth your return
Bring all your friends, fair lord, that burn With love, to hear your modesty relate,
The business of your blooming wit,
With all the fruit shall follow it, Both to the honour of the king and state.
0 how will then our court be pleas'd, To see great Charles of travail eas'd,
When he beholds a graft of his own hand,
Shoot up an olive, fruitful, fair,
To be a shadow to his heir, And both a strength and beauty to his land !
6 Doth shew the Graces and the Hours.] The Hours are the poetical goddesses, which in common language mean only the seasons ; but our poet has the authority of his Greek and Roman predecessors. WHAL.
1 do not quite understand what was meant to be said in this note ; but I will venture to add to it, that there is a great deal of grace and beauty in this little compliment.
EPITHALAMION.
OR A
SONG,
Celebrating the NUPTIALS of that noble Gen- tleman, Mr. HIEROME WESTON, son and heir of the lord WESTON, Lord High Treasurer of England, with the lady FRANCES STEWART, daughter of ESME duke of Lenox, deceased, and sister of the surviving duke of the same
name.
VOL. IX.
D
EPITHALAMION. &c.] Jerome returned from his embassy in 1632, and became earl of Portland in 1634, so that this poem was probably written in the intermediate year. This marriage was much forwarded by Charles, in compliment (lord Clarendon says) to the treasurer ; the bride, who was distantly related to the king, was the youngest daughter of Esme, third duke of Lenox, the friend and patron of Jonion ; she is celebrated for her beauty and amiable qualities, and was happy in a husband, altogether worthy of her. In her issue she was less fortunate ; her only son, whom lord Clarendon mentions (in his " Life") as a young man of excellent parts, being killed in the action with the Dutch fleet under Opdam in 1665. " He died fighting very bra?ely." The title fell to his uncle, who died without issue, when it became extinct : and thus was verified the pious and prophetic hope of that rancorous puritan sir Antony Wei- don, that " God would reward Weston, and that he and his posterity, which, like a Jonas's gourd, sprang up suddenly from a beggarly estate to much honour and great fortunes, would shortly wither !" Court of King Charles, p. 43.
UNDERWOODS.
XCII. EPITHALAMION.
Though thou hast past thy summer-standing,
stay
Awhile with us, bright sun, and help our light ; Thou canst not meet more glory on the way, Between the tropics, to arrest thy sight, Than thou shalt see to-day :
We woo thee stay ; And see what can be seen, The bounty of a king, and beauty of his queen.
See the procession ! what a holy day,
Bearing the promise of some better fate, Hath filled, with caroches, all the way, From Greenwich hither toRowhamptongate ! When look'd the year, at best,
So like a feast ; Or were affairs in tune,
By all the spheres consent, so in the heart of June?
What beauty of beauties, and bright youths at
charge
Of summers liveries, and gladding green, Do boast their loves and braveries so at large, As they came all to see, and to be seen ! When look'd the earth so fine, Or so did shine,
36 UNDERWOODS.
In all her bloom and flower, To welcome home a pair, and deck the nuptial bower ?
It is the kindly season of the time,
The month of youth, which calls all creatures
forth
To do their offices in nature's chime, And celebrate, perfection at the worth, Marriage, the end of life,
That holy strife, And the allowed war,
Through which not only we, but all our species are.
Hark how the bells upon the waters play
Their sister-tunes from Thames his either side, As they had learn'd new changes for the day, And all did ring the approaches of the bride ; The lady FRANCES drest
Above the rest Of all the maidens fair; In graceful ornament of garland, gems, and hair.
See how she paceth forth in virgin-white,
Like what she is, the daughter of a duke, And sister ; darting forth a dazzling light On all that come her simplesse to rebuke ! Her tresses trim her back,
As she did lack Nought of a maiden queen, With modesty so crown'd, and adoration seen.
Stay, thou wilt see what rites the virgins do, The choicest virgin-troop of all the land !
UNDERWOODS. 37
Porting the ensigns of united two,
Both crowns and kingdoms in their either hand : Whose majesties appear,
To make more clear This feast, than can the day, Although that thou, O sun, at our entreaty stay !
See how with roses, and with lilies shine, Lilies and roses, flowers of either sex, The bright bride's paths, embellish'd more than
thine,
With light of love this pair doth intertex ! Stay, see the virgins sow,
Where she shall go, The emblems of their way. — O, now thou smil'st, fair sun, and shin'st, as thou would'st stay !
With what full hands, and in how plenteous
showers Have they bedew'd the earth, where she doth
tread,
As if her airy steps did spring the flowers, And all the ground were garden where she led ! See, at another door, On the same floor, The bridegroom meets the bride With all the pomp of youth, and all our court beside !
Our court, and all the grandees ! now, sun, look, And looking with thy best inquiry, tell,
In all thy age of journals thou hast took,
Saw'st thou that pair became these rites so well,
38 UNDERWOODS.
Save the preceding two ?
Who, in all they do, Search, sun, and thou \vilt find They are the exampled pair, and mirror of their
kind.
Force from the Phoenix, then, no rarity
Of sex, to rob the creature ; but from man, The king of creatures, take his parity
With angels, muse, to speak these : nothing
can Illustrate these, but they
Themselves to-day, Who the whole act express; All else, we see beside, are shadows, and go less.
It is their grace and favour that makes seen, And wonder' d at the bounties of this day ; All is a story of the king and queen : And what of dignity and honour may Be duly done to those
Whom they have chose, And set the mark upon, To give a greater name and title to ! their own !
1 Save the preceding two9 &c.] The king and queen. In Love's Welcome at Bolsover, Jouson compliments this illus- trious pair on the strictness and purity of their union ; if that can be called compliment which is merely truth. In all his do- mestic relations, Charles I. stood unparallelled ; he wa* an in- dulgent master, a faithful and affectionate husband, and a tender parent.
Thii must have been a very splendid ceremony. Both the king and the favourite were to be gratified by assisting aHt, and it is probable that few of the young nobility were absent. Charles himself acted as father to the bride, and gave her away.
UNDERWOODS. 39
WESTON, their treasure, as their treasurer,
That mine of wisdom, and of counsels deep, Great say-master of state, who cannot err, But doth his caract, and just standard keep, In all the prov'd assays,
And legal ways Of trials, to work down
Men's loves unto the laws, and laws to love the crown.
And this well mov'd the judgment of the king
To pay with honours to his noble son To-day, the father's service ; who could bring Him up, to do the same himself had done : That far all-seeing eye
Could soon espy What kind of waking man He had so highly set; and in what Barbican.8
Stand there ; for when a noble nature's rais'd,
It brings friends joy, foes grief, posterity fame; In him the times, no less than prince, are prais'd, And by his rise, in active men, his name Doth emulation stir; To the dull a spur
* He had so highly set^ and in what Barbican.] An old word for a beacon, fortress, or watch-tower :
u Within the Barbican a porter sate, Day and night, duly keeping watch and ward."
Fairy Queen, b. 2. cant. 9. WHAL.
One of the streets of London takes its name from an edifice of that kind, anciently standing there. Stow thus describes it. "On the north-west side of this city, near unto Red- cross street, there was a tower commonly called Barbican, or Burh<* kenning^ for that the same being placed on a high ground, and also being builded of some good height, was in old time used as a watch-tower for the city." Ed. 4to. 1603, p. 70.
40 UNDERWOODS.
It is, to the envious meant A mere upbraiding grief, and torturing punish- ment.
See now the chapel opens, where the king
And bishop stay to consummate the rites; The holy prelate prays, then takes the ring, Asks first, who gives her ? — I, CHARLES — then
he plights
One in the other's hand, Whilst they both stand Hearing their charge, and then The solemn choir cries, Joy ! and they return, Amen I
O happy bands ! and thou more happy place,
Which to this use wert built and consecrate ! To have thy God to bless, thy king to grace, And this their chosen bishop celebrate, And knit the nuptial knot,
Which time shall not, Or canker'd jealousy, With all corroding arts, be able to untie !
The chapel empties, and thou mayst be gone Now, sun, and post away the rest of day : These two, now holy church hath made them one, Do long to make themselves so' another way : There is a feast behind,
To them of kind, Which their glad parents taught One to the other, long ere these to light were brought.
Haste, haste, officious sun, and send them night Some hours before it should, that jhese may know
UNDERWOODS. 41
All that their fathers and their mothers might Of nuptial sweets, at such a season, owe, To propagate their names,
And keep their fames Alive, which else would die ; For fame keeps virtue up, and it posterity.
The ignoble never lived, they were awhile
Like swine, or other cattle here on earth : Their names are not recorded on the file
Of life, that fall so ; Christians know their birth Alone, and such a race, We pray may grace, Your fruitful spreading vine, But dare not ask our wish in language Fescennine.
Yet, as we may, we will, — with chaste desires,
The holy perfumes of the marriage-bed, Be kept alive, those sweet and sacred fires Of love between you and your lovely-head ! That when you both are old,
You find no cold There ; but renewed, say,
After the last child born, This is our wedding- day.
Till you behold a race to fill your hall,
A Richard, and a Hierome, by their names Upon a Thomas, or a Francis call ;
A Kate, a Frank, to honour their grand -dames, And 'tween their grandsires' thighs,
Like pretty spies, Peep forth a gem ; to see
How each one plays his part, of the large pe- digree !
42 UNDERWOODS.
And never may there want one of the stem,
To be a watchful servant for this state ; But like an arm of eminence 'mongst them, Extend a reaching virtue early and late ! Whilst the main tree still found
Upright and sound, By this sun's noonsted's made So great; his body now alone projects the shade.
They both are slipp'd to bed ; shut fast the door,
And let him freely gather love's first-fruits. He's master of the office ; yet no more
Exacts than she is pleased to pay : no suits, Strifes, murmurs, or delay,
Will last till day ; Night and the sheets will show The longing couple all that elder lovers know.
UNDERWOODS. 43
XCIII.
THE HUMBLE PETITION OF POOR BEN ;
TO THE BEST OF MONARCHS, MASTERS, MEN,
KING CHARLES.
Doth most humbly show it,
To your majesty, your poet :
That whereas your royal father, JAMES the blessed, pleas'd the rather, Of his special grace to letters, To make all the Muses debtors To his bounty ; by extension Of a free poetic pension, A large hundred marks annuity, To be given me in gratuity For done service, and to come :
And that this so accepted sum, Or dispens'd in books or bread, (For with both the muse was fed) Hath drawn on me from the times, All the envy of the rhymes, And the ratling pit-pat noise Of the less poetic boys, When their pot-guns aim to hit, With their pellets of small wit, Parts of me they judg'd decay'd ; But we last out still unlay'd.
Please your majesty to make Of your grace, for goodness sake,
44. UNDERWOODS.
Those your father's marks, your pounds : Let their spite, which now abounds, Then go on, and do its worst; This would all their envy burst : And so warm the poet's tongue, You'd read a snake in his next song.
XCIV.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD TREASURER OF ENGLAND.
AN EPIGRAM.
If to my mind, great lord, I had a state,* I would present you now with curious plate Of Noremberg or Turky ; hang your rooms, Not with the Arras, but the Persian looms :
3 Those your father s marks, your pounds.] The petition suc- ceeded; the reader has, annexed to our poet's life, a copy of the warrant creating him poet laureat, with a salary of £ 100. per annum. WHAL.
The warrant is dated March 1630, the Petition must therefore be referred to the beginning of that year.
* If to my mind, great Lord, I had a state.] The learned reader may compare this with the 8th ode of the fourth book of Ho- race, as it seems to be copied from it. Our poet, as we find by iome verses wrote by no well- wisher to him, received forty pounds for this Epigram. Let the reader judge which was greatest, the generosity of the treasurer, or the genius and ad- dress of Jouson. WHAL.
Whalley has strange notions of copying. Jonson has taken a hint from the opening of the Ode to Censorinus, and that is all.
The verses to which Whalley alludes arc in the 4to. and 12mo. editions, 1640, in which this Epigram also appears ; in Eliot's Poems, they are thus prefixed.
UNDERWOODS. 45
I would, if price or prayer could them get, Send in what or Romano, Tintoret,
* To Ben Jonson, upon his verses to the earl of Portland, lord Treasurer.
" Your verses are commended, and 'tis true, That they were very good, I mean to you ; For they return'd you, Ben, as I was told, A certain sum of forty pound in gold ; The verses then being rightly understood, His lordship., not Ben Jonson, made them good." p. 27.
This poor simpleton, who appears to have earned a wretched subsistence by harassing the charitable with doggrel petitions for meat and clothes, was answered (according to his folly) by some one in Jonson's name; for the lines, though published in the small edition so often quoted, were not written by him.
To MY DETRACTOR.
" My verses were commended, thou dost say,
And they were very good, yet thou thinkst nay.
For thouxobjectest, as thou hast been told,
Th' envy'd return of forty pound in gold.
Fool, do not rate my rhymes ; I have found thy vice
Is to make cheap the lord, the lines, the price.
But bark thou on ; I pity thee, poor cur,
That thou shouldst lose thy noise, thy foam, thy stur,
To be known what thou art, thou blatant beast:
But writing against me, thou thinkst at least
I now would write on thee ; no, wretch, thy name
Cannot work out unto it such a fame :
No man will tarry by thee, as he goes,
To ask thy name, if he have half a nose,
But flee thee like the pest Walk not the street
Out in the dog-days, lest the killer meet
Thy noddle with his club, and dashing forth
Thy dirty brains, men see thy want of worth." p. 119.
The question proposed by Whalley for the exercise of the reader's judgment seems very unnecessary. Forty pounds was a rery considerable present in those days, and whether bestowed on want or worth, or both, argues a liberal and a noble spirit. The u Epigram" was probably written in 1632.
46 UNDERWOODS.
Titian, or Raphael, Michael Angelo,
Have left in fame to equal, or out-go
The old Greek hands in picture, or in stone.
This I would do, could I think WESTON one Catch'd with these arts, wherein the judge is wise As far as sense, and only by the eyes. But you, I know, my lord, and know you can Discern between a statue and a man ; Can do the things that statues do deserve, And act the business which they paint or carve. What you have studied, are the arts of life; To compose men and manners ; stint the strife Of murmuring subjects ; make the nations know What worlds of blessings to good kings they
owe :
And mightiest monarchs feel what large increase Of sweets and safeties they possess by peace. These I look up at with a reverent eye, And strike religion in the standers-by ; Which, though I cannot, as an architect, In glorious piles or pyramids erect Unto your honour ; I can tune in song Aloud ; and, haply, it may last as long.
xcv.
AN EPIGRAM
TO MY MUSE, THE LADY DlGBY, ON HER HUSBAND, SIR KENELM DlGBY.
Though, happy Muse, thou know my DIGBY well, Yet read him in these lines : He doth excel In honour, courtesy, and all the parts Court can call hers, or man could call his arts.
UNDERWOODS. 47
He's prudent, valiant, just and temperate : In him all virtue is beheld in state ; And he is built like some imperial room For that to dwell in, and be still at home. His breast is a brave palace, a broad street, Where all heroic ample thoughts do meet: Where nature such a large survey hath ta'en, As other souls, to his, dwelt in a lane : Witness his action done at Scanderoon, Upon his birth-day, the eleventh of June;*
* Witness his action done at Scanderoon,
Upon his birth-day, the eleventh of June.] This refers to an action in the bay of Scanderoon in 1628, wherein he beat certain Tessels belonging to the states of Venice. "This onset was made/' says Antony Wood, " as 'tis reported on the eleventh of June, (his birth day as Ben Jonson will have it,) yet a pamphlet that was published the same year, giving an account of all the transactions of that fight, tells us, it was on the 16th of the same month; which if true, ihen the fortune of that day is again marred." To all which we must answer, that this same pamphlet or letter, which gives the relation of this action, was dated indeed on the iGth of June, but it expressly says that the action happened on the 1 1th of the same month ; and this is confirmed likewise by Mr. Ferrar's Epitaph on the death of sir Kenelnt Digby, which makes the II th of June memorable for his birth, day, the day of his victory, and the day of his death. The epi- taph is as follows :
" Under this stone the matchless Digby lies, Digby the great, the valiant, and the wise : This age's wonder for his noble parts, Skill'd in six tongues, and learn'd in all the arts : Born on the day he died, th' eleventh of June , On which he bravely fought at Scanderoon ; 'Tis rare that one and self-same day should be His day of birth, of death, and victory."
It is remarkable that Antony Wood refers us to this epitaph, and quotes two verses from it, and yet disputes the authority of our poet for the time of his birth. WHAL.
Wood was probably influenced by Aubrey, who observes on
48 UNDERWOODS.
When the apostle Barnaby the bright Unto our year doth give the longest light, In sign the subject, and the song will live, Which I have vow'd posterity to give. Go, Muse, in, and salute him. Say he be Busy, or frown at first, when he sees thee, He will clear up his forehead ; think thou bring'st Good omen to him in the note thou sing'st : For he doth love my verses, and will look Upon them, next to Spenser's noble book,6 And praise them too. O what a fame 'twill be, What reputation to my lines and me, When he shall read them at the Treasurer's board, The knowing Weston, and that learned lord Allows them ! then, what copies shall be had, What transcripts begg'd ! how cried up, and how glad
the couplet quoted by Whalley, " Mr. Elias Ashmole assures me from two or three nativities by Dr. Napier, that Ben Jonson was mistaken, and did it for the rhyme sake." We have here a couple of dreamers—but they are not worth an argument : it is more to the purpose to observe from the latter, that u sir Kenelm Digby was held to be the most accomplished cavalier of his time, the Mirandola of his age, that he understood ten or twelve languages, and was well versed in all kinds of learning, very generous and liberal to deserving persons, and a great patron to Ben Jonson, who has some excellent verses on him," &c. Letters by Eminent Persons, vol. ii. p. 326.
Sir Kenelm Digby was one of our poet's adopted sons : he is now more remembered for his chemical reveries, his sympa- thetic powder, &c. than for his talents, and accomplishments. He was, however, an eminent man, and a benefactor to the literature of his country. He died in 1665.
9 For he doth love my verses, and will look
Upon them, next to Spenser's noble book."] Sir Kenelm* had a great affection for the Fairy Queen, and wrote a commentary on a single stanza of that poem. It is called, Observations on the ttd stanza in the 9th canto of the Id book of Spenser's Fairy Queen, Lond. 1644. Octavo. WHAL.
UNDERWOODS. 49
Wilt thou be, Muse, when this shall them befall ! Being sent to one, they will be read of alL
CVI.
A NEW-YEAR'S GIFT,
SUNG TO KING CHARGES, MDCXXXV.
Prelude.
New years expect new gifts : sister, your harp,
Lute, lyre, theorbo, all are call'd to-day ; Your change of notes, the flat, the mean, the sharp,
To shew the rites, and usher forth the way Of the new year, in a new silken warp,
To fit the softness of your year's-gift ; when.
We sing the best of monarchs, masters, men ; For had we here said less, we had sung nothing then.
Chorus of NYMPHS and SHEPHERDS.
Rector Cho. To-day old Janus opens the new year, And shuts the old : Haste, haste, all loyal swains,
That know the times and seasons when t' appear, And offer your just service on these plains ;
Best kings expect first fruits of your glad gains.
1 Skep. Pan is the great preserver of our bounds.
2 Shep. To him we owe all profits of our grounds, VOL. ix. E
50 UNDERWOODS.
3 Shep. Our milk.
4 Shep. Our fells.
5 Shep. Our fleeces.
6 Shep. And first lambs.
7 Shep. Our teeming ewes.
8 Shep. And lusty mounting rams.
9 Shep. See where he walks, with Mira by his side. Cho. Sound, sound his praises loud, and with his
hersvdivide.
Of PAN we sing, the best of hunters, Pan,
That drives the hart to seek unused ways,
Shep. And in the chase, more than Sylvanus can ;
Cho. Hear, O ye groves, and, hills, resound
his praise.
Of brightest MIRA do we raise our song, Sister of Pan, and glory of the spring ; Nym. Who walks on earth, as May still went along. Cho. Rivers and valleys, echo what we sing.
Of Pan we sing, the chief of leaders, Pan, Cho. of Shep. That leads our flocks and us, and
calls both forth
To better pastures than great Pales can : Hear, O ye groves, and, hills, resound his worth.
Of brightest Mira is our song ; the grace Cho. of Nym. Of all that nature yet to life did
bring; And were she lost, could best supply her
place : Rivers and valleys, echo what we sing.
1 Shep. Where'erthey tread theenamour'd ground,
The fairest flowers are always found :
2 Shep. As if the beauties of the year
Still waited on them where they were.
UNDERWOODS. 51
1 Shep. He is the father of our peace ;
Q Shep. She to the crown hath brought increase.
1 Shep. We know no other power than his ;
Pan only our great shepherd is, Cho. Our great, our good. Where one's so drest
In truth of colours, both are best.
Rect. Cho. Haste, haste you hither, all you gen- tler swains,
That have a flock or herd upon these plains : This is the great preserver of our bounds, To whom you owe all duties of your grounds ; Your milks, yourfells, yourfleeces, and firstlambs, Your teeming ewes, as well as mounting rams. Whose praises let's report unto the woods, That they may take it echo'd by the floods. Cho. 'Tis he, 'tis he ; in singing he,
And hunting, Pan, exceedeth thee: .
He gives all plenty and increase,
He is the author of our peace.
Rect. Cho. Where-e'er he goes, upon the ground The better grass and flowers are found. To sweeter pastures lead he can, Than ever Pales could, or Pan : He drives diseases from our folds, The thief from spoil his presence holds : Pan knows no other power than his, This only the great shepherd is.
Cho. 'Tis he, 'tis he; &c/
7 In the old copy, several love verses are ridiculously tacked to this chorus : they have already appeared, and the circum- stance is only noted here, to mark the carelessness or ignorance of those who had the ransacking of the poet' s study, after his death.
52 UNDERWOODS.
CVIL ON THE KING'S BIRTH-DAY.»
Rouse up thyself, my gentle Muse,
Though now our green conceits be gray, And yet once more do not refuse To take thy Phrygian harp, and play In honour of this cheerful day :
Long may they both contend to prove, That best of crowns is such a love.
Make first a song of joy and love, Which chastly flames in royal eyes,
Then tune it to the spheres above, When the benignest stars do rise, And sweet conjunctions grace the skies. Long may, &c.
To this let all good hearts resound,
Whilst diadems invest his head ; Long may he live, whose life doth bound
More than his laws, and better led
By high example, than by dread. Long may, &c.
Long may he round about him see
His roses and his lilies blown: Long may his only dear and he Joy in ideas of their own, And kingdom's hopes so timely sown. Long may they both contend to prove," That best of crowns is such a love.
8 This is probably Ben's last tribute of duty to his royal master : it is not his worst ; it was, perhaps, better as it came from the poet, for a stanza has apparently been lost, or con- founded with the opening one.
UNDERWOODS. 53
CVIII.
To MY LORD THE KlNG,
ON THE CHRISTENING HIS SECOND SON JAMES.*
That thou art lov'd of God, this work is done, Great king, thy having of a second son : And by thy blessing may thy people see How much they are belov'd of God in thee. Would they would understand it ! princes are Great aids to empire, as they are great care To pious parents, who would have their blood Should take first seisin of the public good, As hath thy James ; cleans'd from original dross, This day, by baptism, and his Saviour's cross. Grow up, sweet babe, as blessed in thy name, As in reriewing thy good grandsire's fame : Methought Great Britain in her sea, before Sate safe enough, but now secured more. At land she triumphs in the triple shade, Her rose and lily inter-twined, have made.
Oceano secura meoy securior umbris.
9 James II. was born October 15, 1633, and the ceremony, here mentioned, took place in the succeeding month. In the Diary of Laud's Life, (fol. 1695, p. 49.) is the following memo- randum by the Archbishop. " November 24, 1633. Sunday in the afternoon, I christened king Charles his second son, James duke of York, at St. James's."
UNDERWOODS.
CVIII. AN ELEGY.
ON THE LADY JANE PAWLET, MARCHIONESS OF WlNTON.*
What gentle ghost, besprent with April de\v,
Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew,2
And beckoning woos me, from the fatal tree
To pluck a garland for herself or me ?
I do obey you, beauty ! for in death
You seem a fair one. O that you had breath
To give your shade a name ! Stay, stay, I feel
A horror in me, all my blood is steel ;
1 An Elegy on the lady Jane Pawkt, &c.] The folio reads lady Anne, though Jane; the true name, occurs, as Whalley observes, just below. This wretched copy is so full of errors, that the reader's attention would be too severely proved, if called to notice the tithe of them ; in general, they hare been corrected in silence.
This lady Jane was the first wife of that brave and loyal nobleman, John, fifth marquis of Winchester. He was one of the greatest sufferers by the Usurpation ; but he lived to see the restoration of the royal family, and died full of years and honour in 1674. The marchioness died in 1631, which is there- fore the date of the Elegy.
* What gentle ghost besprent with April deto^
Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew ?~\ Pope seems to have imitated the first lines of this elegy, in his poem to the Mtmory of an unfortunate Lady :
" What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade, Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade ?" WHAL.
Pope's imitation, however, falls far short of the picturesque and awful solemnity of the original.
UNDERWOODS. ,55
Stiff, stark! my joints 'gainst one another knock ! Whose daughter? — Ha! great Savage of the
Rock.3
He's good as great. I am almost a stone, And ere I can ask more of her, she's gone ! — Alas, I am all marble I write the rest Thou would'st have written, Fame, upon my
breast :
It is a large fair table, and a true, And the disposure will be something new, When I, who would the poet have become, At least may. bear the inscription to her tomb. She was the lady JANE, and marchionisse Of Winchester : the heralds can tell this. Earl Rivers' grand-child — 'serve not forms, good
Fame,
Sound thou her virtues, give her soul a name. Had I a thousand mouths, as many tongues, And voice to raise them from my brazen lungs, I durst not aim at that ; the dotes were such Thereof, no notion can express how much Their caract was : I or my trump must break, But rather I, should I of that part speak ; It is too near of kin to heaven, the soul, To be described ! Fame's fingers are too foul To touch these mysteries : we may admire The heat and splendor, but not handle fire. What she did here, by great example, well, T inlive posterity, her Fame may tell ; And calling Truth to witness, make that good From the inherent graces in her blood !
3 Great Savage of the Rock.] The seat of that family in Cheshire, from which the lady was descended. Camden gives us the following account of it: u The Werer flows between Frodsham, a castle of ancient note, and Clifton, at present called Rock Savage, a new house of the Savages, who by mar- riage have got a great estate here." Brit. p. 563. WIIAL.
56 UNDERWOODS.
Else who doth praise a person by a new
But a feign'd way, doth rob it of the true.
Her sweetness, softness, her fair courtesy,
Her wary guards, her wise simplicity,
Were like a ring of Virtues 'bout her set,
And Piety the centre where all met.
A reverend state she had, an awful eye,
A dazzling, yet inviting, majesty:
What Nature, Fortune, Institution, Fact
Could sum to a perfection, was her act !
How did she leave the world, with what contempt!
Just as she in it lived, and so exempt
From all affection ! when they urg'd the cure
Of her disease, how did her soul assure
Her sufferings, as the body had been away !
And to the torturers, her doctors, say,
Stick on your cupping-glasses, fear not, put
Your hottest caustics to, burn, lance, or cut :
'Tis but a body which you can torment,
And I into the world all soul was sent.
Then comforted her lord, and blest her son,4
Cheer'd her fair sisters in her race to run,
4 Then comforted her lord^ and blest her son^ &c.] Warton calls this a" pathetic Elegy/' and indeed this passage has both pathos and beauty. It is a little singular that Jonson makes no allusion to her dying in childbed, which, it would appear from Milton's Epitaph, she actually did. He speaks of a disease : she was delivered of a dead child ; and some surgical operation appears to have been performed, or attempted, without success. There can be no doubt of Jonson's accuracy ; for he was living on terms of respectful friendship with the marquis of Winchester.
Jonson principally dwells on the piety of this lady? she seems also to have been a person of rare endowments and ac- complishments. Howell (p. 182.) puts her in mind that he taught her Spanish, and sends her a sonnet which he had translated into that language from one in English by her ladyship, with the music, &c. and Cartwright returns her thanks, in warm language, " for two most beautiful pieces,, wrought by herself
UNDERWOODS. 57
With gladness tempered her sad parents tears, Made her friends joys to get above their fears, And in her last act taught the standers by With admiration and applause to die !
Let angels sing her glories, who did call Her spirit home to her original ; Who saw the way was made it, and were sent To carry and conduct the compliment 'Twixt death and life, where her mortality Became her birth-day to eternity ! And now through circumfused light she looks, On Nature's secret there, as her own books: Speaks heaven's language, and discourseth free To every order, every hierarchy ! Beholds her Maker, and in him doth see What the beginnings of all beauties be; And all beatitudes that thence do flow : Which they that have the crown aresure to knowl
Go now, her happy parents, and be sad, If you not understand what child you had. If you dare grudge at heaven, and repent T' have paid again a blessing was but lent, And trusted so, as it deposited lay At pleasure, to be call'd for every day! If you can envy your own daughter's bliss, And wish her state less happy than it is ;
in needle-work, and presented to the Unirersity of Oxford, the one being the story of the Nativity, the other of the Passion of our Saviour."
" Blest mother of the church, he, in the list, Reckoned from hence the she-Evangelist ; Nor can the style be profanation, when The needle may convert more than the pen ; When faith may come by seeing, and each leaf, Rightly perus'd, prove gospel to the deaf," &c.
Poems, p, 1 96.
58 UNDERWOODS.
If you can cast about your either eye, And see all dead here, or about to die ! The stars, that are the jewels of the night, And day, deceasing, with the prince of light, The sun, great kings, and mightiest kingdoms
fall ; Whole nations, nay, mankind ! the world, with
all
That ever had beginning there, t' have end ! With what injustice should one soul pretend T' escape this common known necessity ? When we were all born, we began to die ; And, but for that contention, and brave strife The Christian hath t' enjoy the future life,5
5 Sir John Beaumont has also an elegy on the death of this lady, beginning with these lines :
" Can ray poor lines no better office have, But lie like scritch-owls still about the grave ? When shall I take some pleasure for my pain, Commending them that can commend again ?" WHAL.
It may also be added that Eliot has an " Elegy on the lady Jane Paulet, marchioness of Winchester," &c. in which he follows Milton, as to the immediate cause of her death. Though the poem, which is very long, is in John's best manner, I should not have mentioned it, had it not afforded me an oppor- tunity of explaining a passage in Shakspeare which has sorely puzzled the commentators :
" Either (says the gallant Henry V.)
Either our history shall, with full mouth, Speak freely of our acts, or else, our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph." A. I. S. 2.
Steevens says that the allusion is " to the ancient custom of writing on waxen tablets," and Malone proves, at the expense of two pages that his friend has mistaken the poet's meaning, and that he himself is — just as wide of it.
In many parts of the continent, it is customary, upon the decease of an eminent person, for his friends to compose short laudatory poems, epitaphs, &c. and affix them to the herse, or
UNDERWOODS. 59
He were the wretched'st of the race of men : But as he soars at that, he bruiseth then The serpent's head ; gets above death and sin, And, sure of heaven, rides triumphing in.
grave, with pins, wax, paste, &c. Of this practice, which was once prevalent here also, I had collected many notices, which, when the circumstance was recalled to my mind by Eliot's verses, I tried in vain to recover : the fact, however, is certain.
In the bishop of Chichester's verses to the memory of Dr. Donne, is this couplet :
" Each quill can drop his tributary verse, And pin it, like a hatchment, to his herse."
Eliot's lines are these :
" Let others, then, sad Epitaphs invent, And paste them up about thy monument; While my poor muse contents itself, that she Vents sighs, not words, unto thy memory."
Poems , p. 39.
It is very probable that the beautiful Epitaph on the countess of Pembroke, was attached, with many others, to her herse. We know that she had no monument; and the verses seem to intimate that they were so applied :
'* Underneath this sable herse Lies the subject of all verse, Sidney's sister," &c.
To this practice Shakspeare alludes, He had, at first, written paper epitaph, which he judiciously changed to waxen, as less ambiguous, and altogether as familiar to his audience. Henry's meaning therefore is ; sc I will either have my full history re- corded with glory, or lie in an undistinguished grave :— not merely without an inscription sculptured in stone, but unwor- shipped, (unhonoured,) even by a waxen epitaph, i. e. by the short-lived compliment of a paper fastened on it.
E U P H E M E.
OR THE
FAIR FAME
LEFT TO POSTERITY OF THAT TRULY NOBLE LADY,
THE LADY VENETIA DIGBY,
LATE WIFE OF SIR KENELME DlGBY, KNT., A GENTLEMAN ABSOLUTE IN ALL NUMBERS.
CONSISTING OF THESE TEN PIECES :
The dedication of her CRADLE, The Song of her DESCENT, The Picture of her BODY,
— her MIND,
Her being chosen a MUSE, Her fair OFFICES,
Her happy MATCH, Her hopeful ISSUE, Her Ano0Efl2iS, or, Relation
to the SAINTS, Her Inscription, or CROWN-
ING.
Vwam amare Voluptas, defunctam Religio. Stat
UNDERWOODS. 63
CIX. E U P H E M E:
OR THE
FAIR FAME.
LEFT TO POSTERITY OF THAT TRULY NOBLE LADY,
THE LADY VENETIA DIGBY, &c.*
I. THE DEDICATION OF HER CRADLE.
Fair Fame, who art ordain'd to crown With ever-green and great renown, Their heads that Envy would hold down
With her, in shade
1 The lady Venetia Digby, &c.] This celebrated lady, Venetfa Anastatia Stanley, was the daughter of sir Edward Stanley of Tongue Castle, Shropshire. Her story, which is somewhat re- markable, is given at length by Aubrey and Antony Wood, from whom I have taken what follows. <£ She was a most beautiful creature ; and being matura viro, was placed by her father at Enston-abbey ; (a seat of her grandfather's ;) but as prirate as that place was, it seems her beauty could not lie hid: the young eagles had spied her, and she was sanguine and tractable, and of much suavity, which to abuse was great pity."
" In those days, Richard earl of Dorset lived in the greatest splendor of any nobleman of England. Among other pleasures that he enjoyed, Venus was not the least. This pretty creature's fame quickly came to his ears, who made no delay to catch at such an opportunity. I have forgot who first brought her to
64 UNDERWOODS.
Of death and darkness; and deprive Their names of being kept alive, By Thee and Conscience, both who thrive
By the just trade
town :— but the earl of Dorset aforesaid was her greatest gallant ; he was extremely enamoured of her, and had one, if not more children by her. He settled on her an annuity of .£500. per annum. Among other young sparks of that time, sir Kenelm Digby grew acquainted with her, and fell so much in lore with her that he married her.
" She had amostlovely sweet-turned face, delicate dark brown hair : she had a perfect healthy constitution, good skin ; well- proportioned ; inclining to a bona-roba.* Her face a short oval, dark browne eye-brow, about which much sweetness, as also in the opening of her eye-lids. The colour of her cheeks was just that of the damask rose, which is neither too hot nor too pale. See Ben Jonson's 2d volume, where he hath made her live in poetry, in his drawing both of her body and her mind." Letters, &c. vol. ii. p. 332.
What truth there may be in these aspersions, I know not : that they had some foundation can scarcely be doubted. But whatever was the conduct of this u beautiful creature" before her marriage with sir Kenelm, it was most exemplary after- wards ; and she died universally beloved and lamented.
The amiable and virtuous Habington has a poem on her death addressed to Castara ;
" Weep not, Castara," &c.
this speaks volumes in her praise, for Habington would not have written, nor would his Castara have wept, for an ordinary character. Randolph and Feltham have each an Elegy upon her, as ha§ Rutter, the author of the Shepherds' Holiday. In Ran. dolph's poem, I was struck with four lines of peculiar elegance, which I give from recollection :
" Bring all the spices that Arabia yields,
Distil the choicest flowers that paint the fields ; M And when in one their best perfections meet, Embalm her corse, that she may make them sweet."
Lady Digby was found dead in her bed, with her cheek resting on her hand : to this Habington alludes—
* Poor Aubrey appears to think bona-roba synonymous with enbonpoinf.
UNDERWOODS. 65
Of goodness still: vouchsafe to take This cradle, and for goodness sake, A dedicated ensign make
Thereof to Time ; That all posterity, as we, Who read what the Crepundia be, May something by that twilight see
'Bove rattling rhyme.
For though that rattles, timbrels, toys, Take little infants with their noise, As properest gifts to girls and boys,
Of light expense ;
Their corals, whistles, and prime coats, Their painted masks, their paper boats, With sails of silk, as the first notes
Surprise their sense.
•" She past away
So sweetly from the world, as if her clay Laid only down to slumber."
a Some (says Aubrey) suspected that she was poisoned. When her head was opened, there was found but little brain, which her husband imputed to her drinking of viper-wine ; but spite- ful women would say 'twas a viper-husband, who was jealous of her/' This fact of the little brain is thus alluded to by Owen Feltham :
" Yet there are those, striving to salve their own Deep want of skill, have in a fury thrown Scandal on her, and say she wanted brain. Botchers of nature ! your eternal stain This judgment is," &c.
With respect to the insinuation noticed by Aubrey, it is probably a mere calumny. Sir Kenelm was distractedly fond of his lady, and, as he was a great dabbler in chemistry, is said to have attempted to exalt and perpetuate her beauty by various extracts, cosmetics, &c. to some of which, Pennant suggests, she might probably fall a victim : the better opinion, however, was that she died in a fit. Her death took place in 1633, when she was just turned of 32. She left three sons.
VOL. IX. F
66 UNDERWOODS.
Yet here are no such trifles brought, No cobweb cawls, no surcoats wrought With gold, or clasps, which might be bought
On every stall :
But here's a song of her descent; And call to the high parliament Of Heaven ; where Seraphim take tent
Of ordering all :
This utter' d by an ancient bard, Who claims, of reverence, to be heard, As coming \vith his harp prepar'd
To chant her 'gree, Is sung : as als' her getting up, By Jacob's ladder, to the top Of that eternal port, kept ope
For such as she.
II. THE SONG OF HER DESCENT,
I sing the just and uncontroll'd descent
Of dame VENETIA DIGBY, styled the fair: For mind and body the most excellent
That ever nature, or the later air, Gave two such houses as Northumberland
And Stanley, to the which she was co-heir. Speak it, you bold Penates, you that stand
At either stem, and know the veins of good Run from your roots ; tell, testify the grand
Meeting of Graces, that so sweli'd the flood Of Virtues in her, as, in short, she grew
The wonder of her sex, and of your blood. And tell thou, Alde-legh, none can tell more true
Thy niece's line, than thou that gav'st thy name
UNDERWOODS. 67
Into the kindred, whence thy Adam drew Meschines honour, with the Cestrian fame
Of the first Lupus, to the family By Ranulph —
The rest of this song is lost.
III. THE PICTURE OF THE BODY.
Sitting, and ready to be drawn,
What make these velvets, silks, and lawn, Embroideries, feathers, fringes, lace, Where every limb takes like a face?
Send these suspected helps to aid Some form defective, or decay'd ; This beauty, without falsehood fair, Needs nought to clothe it but the air.
Yet something to the painter's view, Were fitly interposed ; so new : He shall, if he can understand, Work by my fancy, with his hand.
Draw first a cloud, all save her neck, And, out of that, make day to break ; Till like her face it do appear, And men may think all light rose there.
Then let the beams of that disperse The cloud, and shew the universe ; But at such distance, as the eye May rather yet adore, than spy.
F2
68 UNDERWOODS.
The heaven design'd, draw next a spring, With all that youth, or it can bring : Four rivers branching forth like seas, And Paradise confining these.2
Last, draw the circles of this globe, And let there be a starry robe Of constellations 'bout her hurl'd ; And thou hast painted Beauty's world.
But, painter, see thou do not sell A copy of this piece ; nor tell Whose 'tis : but if it favour find. Next sitting we will draw her mind.
IV.
THE PICTURE OF THE MIND.
Painter, you're come, but may be gone, Now I have better thought thereon, This work I can perform alone ; And give you reasons more than one.
* Four rivers branching forth) like seas.
And Paradise confining these.] That could never be the case : the land may be confined by the rivers, though not these by the land. And this the sacred historian tells us was the situ- ation of Paradise ; for confining, therefore, we must read, con- Jind in these. WHAL.
Whalley has prayed hi« pible ill9 and the poet is a, better scriptural geographer than the priest. The river that watered Paradise, branched into four heads immediately upon quitting it. Paradise therefore, was not inclosed by the four rivers ; it merely touched them. Could my predecessor be ignorant that the primitive sense of confine, was to border upon ?
UNDERWOODS. 69
Not that your art I do refuse ; But here 1 may no colours use. Beside, your hand will never hit, To draw a thing that cannot sit.
You could make shift to paint an eye, An eagle towering in the sky, The sun, a sea, or soundless pit ;3 But these are like a mind, not it,
No, to express this mind to sense, Would ask a heaven's intelligence ; Since nothing can report that flame, But what's of kin to whence it came.
Sweet Mind, then speak yourself, and say, As you go on, by what brave way Our sense you do with knowledge fill, And yet remain our wonder still,
I call you, Muse, now make it true : Henceforth may every line be you ; That all may say, that see the frame, This is no picture, but the same.
A mind so pure, so perfect fine, As 'tis not radiant, but divine ; And so disdaining any trier, 'Tis got where it can try the fire.
There, high exalted in the sphere, As it another nature were, It moveth all ; and makes a flight As circular as infinite.
or soundless pit.] i. e. bottomless, that cannot bo
fathomed. WHAL.
70 UNDERWOODS.
Whose notions when it will express In speech ; it is with that excess Of grace, and music to the ear, As what it spoke, it planted there.
The voice so sweet, the words so fair, As some soft chime had stroked the air ; And though the sound were parted thence, Still left an echo in the sense.
But that a mind so rapt, so high, So swift, so pure, should yet apply Itself to us, and come so nigh Earth's grossness ; there's the how and why,
Is it because it sees us dull,
And sunk in clay here, it would pull Us forth, by some celestial sleight, Up to her own sublimed height ?
Or hath she here, upon the ground, Some Paradise or palace found, In all the bounds of Beauty, fit For her t'inhabit ? There is it.
Thrice happy house, that hast receipt For this so lofty form, so streight, So polish'd, perfect, round and even, As it slid moulded off from heaven,
Not swelling like the ocean proud, But stooping gently, as a cloud, As smooth as oil pour'd forth, and calm As showers, and sweet as drops of balm,
Smooth, soft, and sweet, in all a flood, Where it may run to any good ;
UNDERWOODS. 71
And where it stays, it there hecomes A nest of odorous spice and gums.
In action, winged as the wind ; In rest, like spirits left behind Upon a bank, or field of flowers, Begotten by the wind and showers.
In thee, fair mansion, let it rest,
Yet know, with what thou art possest,
Thou, entertaining in thy breast
But such a mind, mak'st God thy guest.4
[A whole quaternion in the midst of this poem is lost, containing entirely the three next pieces of it, and all of the fourth (which in the order of the whole is the eighth ) excepting the very end: which at the top of the next quaternion goeth on thus.]
VIII.
(A FRAGMENT.)
— But for you, growing gentlemen, the happy branches of two so illustrious houses as these, wherefrom your honoured mother is in both lines descended ; let me leave you this last le- gacy of counsel ; which, so soon as you arrive at years of mature understanding, open you, sir, that are the eldest, and read it to your brethren, for it will concern you all alike. Vowed by a
4 This little piece is highly poetical. Some of the stanzas are exquisitely beautiful, and indeed the whole may be said to be vigorously conceived, and happily expressed.
72 UNDERWOODS.
faithful servant and client of your family, with his latest breath expiring it.
BEN JONSON.
To KENELM, JOHN, GEORGE.*
Boast not these titles of your ancestors,
Brave youths, they're their possessions, none
of yours :
When your own virtues equall'd have their names, 'Twill be but fair^to lean upon their fames ; For they are strong supporters : but, till then, The greatest are but growing gentlemen. It is a wretched thing to trust to reeds ; Which all men do, that urge not their own deeds Up to their ancestors ; the river's side By which you're planted shews your fruit shall
bide.
Hang all your rooms with one large pedigree ; 'Tis virtue alone is true nobility : Which virtue from your father, ripe, will fall ; Study illustrious him, and you have all.
5 Of these three sons, George probably died young. Kenelm, the eldest, a young man of great abilities and virtues, nobly redeemed the error of his grandfather, and took up arms for his sovereign. He was slain at the battle of St. Neot's in Hun- tingdonshire, July 7, 1648 ; and John is said to have succeeded to the family estate, after removing some legal bar interposed, in a moment of displeasure, by his father.
The lines which follow bear a running allusion to the eighth satire of Juvenal; they are evidently a mere fragment.
UNDERWOODS 73
IX.
ELEGY ON MY MUSE, THE TRULY HONOURED LADY,
THE LADY VENETIA DlGBY ;
WHO LIVING, GAVE ME LEAVE TO CALL HER SO. BEING
HER AnO0EXlSI£, OR,
RELATION TO THE SAINTS.
Sera quidem tanto strmtur medicina dolore.
'Twere time that I dy'd too, now she is dead, Who was my Muse, and life of all I said ; The spirit that I wrote with, and conceiv'd : All that was good, or great with me, she weav'd, And set it forth ; the rest were cobwehs fine, Spun out in-name of some of the old Nine, To hang a window, or make dark the room, Till swept away, they were cancell'd with a broom! Nothing that could remain, or yet can stir A sorrow in me, fit to wait to her ! O ! had I seen her laid out a fair corse, By death, on earth, I should have had remorse On Nature for her ; who did let her lie, And saw that portion of herself to die. Sleepy or stupid Nature, couldst thou part With such a rarity, and not rouze Art, With all her aids, to save her from the seize Of vulture Death, and those relentless cleis ?*
to save her from the seize
Of vulture Death, and those relentless cleis.] The last word
74 UNDERWOODS;
Thou wouldst have lost the Phoenix, had the kind
Been trusted to thee ; not to itself assign'd.
Look on thy sloth, and give thyself undone,
(For so thou art with me) now she is gone:
My wounded mind cannot sustain this stroke,
It rages, runs, flies, stands, and would provoke
The world to ruin with it ; in her fall,
I sum up mine own hreaking, and wish all.
Thou hast no more blows, Fate, to drive atone ;
What's left a poet, when his Muse is gone ?
Sure I am dead, and know it not ! I feel
Nothing I do ; but like a heavy wheel,
Am turned with another's powers : my passion
Whirls me about, and, to blaspheme in fashion,
I murmur against God, for having ta'en
Her blessed soul hence, forth this valley vain
Of tears, and dungeon of calamity !
I envy it the angels amity,
The joy of saints, the crown for which it lives,
The glory and gain of rest, which the place gives !
Dare I profane so irreligious be, To greet or grieve her soft euthanasy ! So sweetly taken to the court of bliss, As spirits had stolen her spirit in a kiss, From off her pillow and deluded bed ; And left her lovely body unthought dead ! Indeed she is not dead ! but laid to sleep In earth, till the last trump awake the sheep And goats together, whither they must come To hear their judge, and his eternal doom ;
A
is uncommon : is it a different pronunciation of the word claws., adopted by the poet, for the sake of rhyme ? or is it a real cor- ruption of some other word ? WHAL.
Cleis is common enough in our old poets : it is a genuine term, and though now confounded with claws, was probably re- stricted at first to some specific class of animals.
UNDERWOODS. 75
To have that final retribution,
Expected with the flesh's restitution.
For, as there are three natures, schoolmen call
One corporal only, th' other spiritual,
Like single ; so there is a third commixt,
Of body and spirit together, placed betwixt
Those other two ; which must be judged or
crowu'd :
This, as it guilty is, or guiltless found, Must come to take a sentence, by the sense Of that great evidence, the Conscience, Who will be there, against that day prepared, T' accuse or quit all parties to be heard ! O day of joy, and surety to the just, Who in that feast of resurrection trust ! That great eternal holy day of rest To body and soul, where love is all the guest ! And the whole banquet is full sight of God, Of joy the circle, and sole period ! All other gladness with the thought is barr'd ; Hope hath her end, and Faith hath her reward ! This being thus, why should my tongue or pen Presume to interpel that fulness, when Nothing can more adorn it than the seat That she is in, or make it more complete ? Better be dumb than superstitious : Who violates the Godhead, is most vicious Against the nature he would worship. He Will honour'd be in all simplicity, Have all his actions wonder'd at, and view'd With silence and amazement; not with rude, Dull and profane, weak and imperfect eyes, Have busy search made in his mysteries ! He knows what work he hath done, to call
guest, Out of her noble body to this feast :
76 UNDERWOODS.
And give her place according to her blood Amongst her peers, those princes of all good ! Saints, Martyrs, Prophets, with those Hierarchies, Angels, Arch-angels, Principalities, The Dominations, Virtues, and the Powers, The Thrones, the Cherubs, and Seraphic bowers, That, planted round, there sing before the Lamb A new song to his praise, and great I AM : And she doth know, out of the shade of death, What 'tis to enjoy an everlasting breath ! To have her captived spirit freed from flesh, And on her innocence, a garment fresh And white as that put on : and in her hand With boughs of palm, a crowned victrice stand!
And mil you, worthy son, sir, knowing this, Put black and mourning on ? and say you miss A wife, a friend, a lady, or a love ; Whom her Redeemer honour'd hath above8 Her fellows, with the oil of gladness, bright In heaven's empire, and with a robe of light ? Thither you hope to come ; and there to find That pure, that precious, and exalted mind You once enjoy 'd : a short space severs ye, Compared unto that long eternity, That shall rejoin ye. Was she, then, so dear, When she departed? you will meet her there, Much more desired, and dearer than before, By all the wealth of blessings, and the store Accumulated on her, by the Lord Of life and light, the son of God, the Word !
There all the happy souls that ever were, Shall meet with gladness in one theatre ;
9 Whom her Redeemer, &c.] The Apotheosis abounds in scriptural allusions, which I have left to the reader; as Trell as the numerous passages which Milton has adopted from it, and which his editors have as usual overlooked3 while running after Dante and Thomas Aquinas.
UNDERWOODS. 77
And each shall know there one another's face,
By beatific virtue of the place.
There shall the brother with the sister walk,
And sons and daughters with their parents talk ;
But all of God ; they still shall have to say,
But make him All in All, their Theme, that day ;
That happy day that never shall see night !
Where he will be all beauty to the sight;
Wine or delicious fruits unto the taste ;
A music in the ears will ever last;
Unto the scent, a spicery or balm ;
And to the touch, a flower like soft as palm.
He will all glory, all perfection be,
God in the Union, and the Trinity !
That holy, great and glorious mystery,
Will there revealed be in majesty !
By light and comfort of spiritual grace ;
The vision of our Saviour face to face
In his humanity ! to hear him preach
The price of our redemption, and to teach
Through his inherent righteousness, in death,
The safety of our souls, and forfeit breath !
What fulness of beatitude is here? What love with mercy mixed doth appear, To style us friends, who were by nature foes ? Adopt us heirs by grace, who were of those Had lost ourselves, and prodigally spent Our native portions, and possessed rent ? Yet have all debts forgiven us, and advance By' imputed right to an inheritance In his eternal kingdom, where we sit Equal with angels, and co-heirs of it. Nor dare we under blasphemy conceive He that shall be our supreme judge, shall leave Himself so un-inform'd of his elect, Who knows the hearts of all, and can dissect
78 UNDERWOODS.
The smallest fibre of our flesh ; he can
Find all our atoms from a point t' a span :
Our closest creeks and corners, and can trace
Each line, as it were graphic, in the face.
And best he knew her noble character,
For 'twas himself who form'd and gave it her.
And to that form lent two such veins of blood,
As nature could not more increase the flood
Of title in her ! all nobility
But pride, that schism of incivility,
She had, and it became her ! she was fit
T' have known no envy, but by sufFring it !
She had a mind as calm as she was fair;
Not tost or troubled with light lady-air,
But kept an even gait, as some straight tree
Mov'd by the wind, so comely moved she.
And by the awful manage of her eye,
She sway'd all bus'ness in the family.
To one she said, do this, he did it ; so
To another, move, he went ; to a third, go,
He ran ; and all did strive with diligence
T' obey, and serve her sweet commandements.
She was in one a many parts of- life ; A tender mother, a discreeter wife, A solemn mistress, and so good a friend, So charitable to religious end In all her petite actions, so devote, As her whole life was now become one note Of piety and private holiness. She spent more time in tears herself to dress For her devotions, and those sad essays Of sorrow, than all pomp of gaudy days; And came forth ever cheered with the rod Of divine comfort, when she had talk'd with God. Her broken sighs did never miss whole sense ; Nor can the bruised heart want eloquence :
UNDERWOODS. 79
For prayer is the incense most perfumes
The holy altars, when it least presumes.
And hers were all humility ! they beat
The door of grace, and found the mercy-seat.
In frequent speaking by the pious psalms
Her solemn hours she spent, or giving alms,
Or doing other deeds of charity,
To clothe the naked, feed the hungry. She
Would sit in an infirmary whole days
Poring, as on a map, to find the ways
To that eternal rest, where now she hath place
By sure election and predestin'd grace !
She saw her Saviour, by an early light,
Incarnate in the manger, shining bright
On all the world ! she saw him on the cross
SufFring and dying to redeem our loss :
She saw him rise triumphing over death,
To justify and quicken us in breath;
She saw him too in glory to ascend
For his designed work the perfect end
Of raising, judging and rewarding all
The kind of man, on whom his doom should fall !
All this by faith she saw, and fram'd a plea, In manner of a daily apostrophe, To him should be her judge, true God, true Man, Jesus, the only-gotten Christ ! who can, As being redeemer and repairer too Of lapsed nature, best know what to do, In that great act of judgment, which the father Hath given wholly to the son (the rather As being the son of man) to shew his power, His wisdom, and his justice, in that hour, The last of hours, and shutter up of all ; „ Where first his power will appear, by call Of all are dead to life ; his wisdom show In the discerning of each conscience so ;
80 UNDERWOODS
And most his justice, in the fitting parts, And giving dues to all mankind's deserts ! In this sweet extasy she was rapt hence. Who reads, will pardon my intelligence, That thus have ventured these true strains upon, To publish her a saint. MY MUSE is GONE !
In pietatis memoriam
quam prczstas
Venetian tuce illustrissim.
Marit. dign. Dig b tie
Hanc 'AHOGEnilN, tibi, tuisque sacro.
THE TENTH,
BEING HER INSCRIPTION, OR CROWN, IS LOST.
LEGES CONVIVALES.
VOL. IX.
LEGES CONTIVALES.] Nothing can be more pure and elegant than the latinity of these " Laws." In drawing them up, Jon- son seems to have had the rules of the Roman entertainments in view; as collected with great industry by Lipsius.
As Whalley printed the old translation of these Rules I have retained it. The poetry, however, has little merit, and the ori- ginal is not always correctly rendered ; but there is no better : a version somewhat anterior to this, appeared in a volume ef Songs and other Poems, by Alex. Brome, London 1661.
LEGES CONVIVALES.
Quodfcelixfaustumque convivis in Apollinc sit.
1 NEMO ASYMBOLUS, NISI UMBRA, HUC VENITO.
2 IDIOTA, INSULSUS, TRISTIS, TURPIS, ABESTO.
3 ERUDITI, URBANI, HILARES, HONESTI, ADSCISCUN-
TOR,
4 NEC LECTJE FCEM1NJE REPUDIANTOR.
RULES FOR THE TAVERN ACADEMY
OR
LAWS FOR THE BEAUX ESPRITS.
From the Latin of BEN JOKSON, engra?en in Marble over the Chimney, in the APOJ.LO of the Old Devil Tavern,* at Temple. Bar ; that being his Club-Room.
Non verbum reddere verbo.
I.
1 As the fund of our pleasure, let each pay his shot, Except some chance friend, whom a member brings in.
2 Far hence be the sad, the lewd fop, and the sot ; For such have the plagues of good company been.
II.
3 Let the learned and witty, the jovial and gay, The generous and honest, compose our free state;
4 And the more to exalt our delight whilst we stay, Let none be debarr'd from his choice female mate.
1 Apollo of the Old Devil Tavern.] The modern revolutions ef this tarern, as far as they are known, have been kindly trans-
G 2
84 LEGES CONVIVALES.
5 IN APPARATU QUOD CONVIV1S CORRUGET NARES NIL
ESTO.
6 F,PUL#; DELECTU POTIUS QUAM SUMPTU PARANTOR.
7 OBSONATOR ET coouus CONVIVARUM GULJEPERITI
SUNTO.
8 DE DISCUBITU NON CONTENDITOR.
9 MlNISTRl A DAP1BUS, OCULATI ET MUTI,
A POCULIS, AURITI ET CELERES SUNTO.
III.
5 Let no scent offensive the chamber infest.
6 Let fancy, not cost, prepare all our dishes.
7 Let the caterer mind the taste of each guest,
And the cook, in his dressing, comply with their wishes.
IV.
8 Let's hare no disturbance about taking places, To shew your nice breeding, or out of vain pride.
9 Let the drawers be ready with wine and fresh glasses, Let the waiters have eyes, though their tongues must be ty'd.
mitted to me by J. Dent, Esq. one of the principal partners in the banking-house of Child and Co. " Mr. Taylor of the parish of St. Bride's London, Esq. appears by indenture October 1734, to hare been the owner of the two messuages or tenements close to the east of Temple Bar, of which the one known by the name of St. Dunstan's, or the old Devil Tavern, was then in the oc- cupation of John Goostrey. — Taylor sold this property to Richard Andrews of St. Dunstan's parish, July 1766. — Andrews parted with it to Mess. Child, in June 1787 for 2800/. By these gentlemen the Devil Tavern was pulled down soon after they bought it, and the present buildings in Child's Place erected on its scite. In this tavern was the room known by the name of the Apollo, in which was held the APOLLO CLUB established by the celebrated Ben Jonson. Over the door in gold letters on a black ground were painted his verses beginning " Welcome all," &c. and above them was placed a bust of the poet — both these are still in the possession of Messrs. Child : — the Rules of the club, said to have been engraved on black marble, and fixed up in the same room, were no longer there,* when Messrs. Child
* They were probably removed by Andrews. The Apollo, of which a print was published in 1774, appears to have been a handsome room, large and lofty, and furnished with a gallery
LEGES CONVIVALES. 85
10 VlNA PURIS FONTIBUS MINISTRENTOR AUT VAPU-
LET HOSPES.
1 1 MODERATIS POCUL1S PROVOCARE SODALES FAS ESTO.
12 AT FABULIS MAGIS QUAM VINO VELITATIO FIAT. IS CONVIVE NEC MUT1 * NEC LOQUACES SUNTO.
14 DE SERIIS AC SACRIS POTI ET SATURI NE DISSE-
RUNTO.
15 FlDICEN, NISI ACCERSITUS, NON VENITO.
16 ADMISSORISU,TRIPUDIIS,CHOREIS, CANTU,SALIBUS,
OMNI GRATIARUM FESTIVITATE SACRA CELE-
BRANTOR.
17 JOCI SINE FELLE SUNTO.
18 INSIPIDA POEMATA NULLA RECITANTOR.
V.
10 Let our wines without mixture or stum, be all fine, Or call up the master, and break his dull noddle.
11 Let no sober bigot here think it a sin,
To push on the chirping and moderate bottle.
12 Let the contests be rather of books than of wine.
13 Let the company be neither noisy nor mute.
14 Let none of things serious, much less of divine, When belly and head's full, profanely dispute.
VII.
15 Let no saucy fidler presume to intrude, Unless he is sent for to vary our bliss.
16 With mirth) wit, and dancing, and singing conclude, To regale every sense, with delight in eicess.
VIII.
17 Let raillery be without malice or heat.
1 8 Dull poems to read let none privilege take.
had possession given them of the premises. The other tenement above alluded to, was called the King's Arms and Civet Cat, William Wintle tenant : — this was added to the present pre- mises of Messrs. Child and Co. about the year 1796 ; the bar of this tavern being now part of their kitchen. The original sign (still in existence) of the banking-house, was the full blown marygold exposed to a meridian sun, with this motto round it, Ainsi mon Ame. J. D.
for music. It was frequently used for balls, &c. and here Dr. Kenrick gave, about 1775, his Lectures on Shakspeare. * Al. CONVIVJE NON MULTI.
86 LEGES CONVIVALES.
19 VERSUS SCRIBERE NULLTJS COGITOR.
20 ARGUMENTATIONIS TOTIUS STREPITUS ABESTO.
21 AMATORIIS QUERELIS,AC SUSPIRIIS LIBER ANGULUS
ESTO.
22 LAPITHARUM MORE SCYPHIS PUGNARE, VITREA
COLLIDERE,
FENESTRAS EXCUTERE, SUPELLECTILEM DILA- CERARE, NEFAS ESTO. '
23 Qui FORAS VEL DICTA, VEL FACTA ELIMINET, ELI-
MINATOR.
24 NEMINEM REUM POCULA FACIUNTO.
FOCUS PERENNIS ESTO.
19 Let no poetaster command or in treat Another extempore verses to make.
IX.
20 Let argument bear no unmusical sound,
Nor jars interpose, sacred friendship to grieve.
21 For generous lovers let a corner be found, Where they in soft sighs may their passions relieve.
X.
22 Like the old Lapithites, with the goblets to fight, Our own 'mongst offences unpardon'd will rank, Or breaking of windows, or glasses, for spight, And spoiling the goods for a rakehelly prank.
XL
23 Whoeyer shall publish what's said, or what's done, Be he banish 'd for ever our assembly divine.
24 Let the freedom we take be perverted by none, To make any guilty by drinking good wine.
[87]
VERSES PLACED OVER THE DOOR AT THE EN- TRANCE INTO THE APOLLO.
Welcome all who lead or follow,
To the Oracle of APOLLO
Here he speaks out of his pottle,
Or the tripos, his tower bottle :
All his answers are divine,
Truth itself doth flow in wine.
Hang up all the poor hop-drinkers,
Cries old SIM, the king of skinkers ; *
He the half of life abuses,
That sits watering with the Muses.
Those dull girls no good can mean us ;
Wine it is the milk of Venus,4
And the poet's horse accounted :
Ply it, and you all are mounted.
'Tis the true Phoebian liquor,
Cheers the brains, makes wit the quicker.
Pays all debts, cures all diseases,
And at once three senses pleases.
Welcome all who lead or follow,
To the Oracle of APOLLO.
O RARE BEN JONSON !
* Cries old Sim, the king of skulkers,] Old Sim means Simon Wadloc, who then kept the Devil tavern ; and of him probably is the old catch, beginning,
Old Sir Simon the king WHAL.
* Wine it is the milk ofVenus.~\ From the Greek Anacreontic,
WHAL.
TRANSLATIONS
FROM THE
LATIN POETS.
HORACE
HIS
ART OF POETRY.
HORACE OP THE ART OF POETRY.] This translation, which was probably among the earliest works of Jonson, was not given to the press till some time after his death, when it was published in 1640, with some other pieces in 12mo. by John Benson, with a dedication to lord Winsor, who, as the writer says, " rightly knew the worth and true esteem both of the author and his learning, being more conspicuous in the judg- ment of your lordship and other sublime spirits than my capa- city can describe."
Many transcripts of this rersion got abroad ; these differed considerably from one another, and all perhaps, from the Ori- ginal copy. In the three which have reached us, though all were published nearly at the same time, variations occur in almost every line. To notice them would be both tedious and unprofitable : suffice it to say that I have adopted the text of the folio 1640, as, upon the whole, the most correct, though exceptions may occasionally be met with in the smaller editions.
It was for this poem that our author compiled the vast body of notes which was destroyed in the conflagration of his study. After this, he seems to have lost all thoughts of the press — indeed age and disease were advancing fast upon him, if, as I conjecture, the fire took place about 1623, and left him as little heart as power to venture again before a public not, in general, too partial to his labours.
The small edition is prefaced by several commendatory poems, one of which only appears to be written on occasion of the present version. This is by the celebrated lord Herbert of Cherbury, and is addressed " to his friend master Ben Jonson, on his Translation."
" 'Twas not enough, Ben Jonson, to be thought Of English poets best, but to have brought, In greater state, to their acquaintance, one Made equal to himself and thee ; that none Might be thy second : while thy glory is To be the HORACE of our times, and his.'*
Jonson was followed (at unequal periods) by three writers, who in the century succeeding his death (for I hare neither leisure nor inclination to go lower,) published their respective versions of the Art of Poetry. It may amuse the reader, perhaps, to listen for a moment to what they say of our poet, and of one another. Roscommon begins —
" I have kept as close as I could both to the meaning, and the words of the author, and done nothing but what I believe
he would forgive me if he were alive ; and I have often asked myself that question. I know this is a field,
Per quern magnus equos Auruncct flexit alumnus,
but with all respect due to the name of Ben Jonson, to which no man pays more veneration than I ; it cannot be denied, that the constraint of rhyme, and a literal translation (to which Horace in his book declares himself an enemy) has made him want a comment in many places."
Oldham follows :
" I doubt not but the reader will think me guilty of an high presumption in venturing upon a translation of the Art of Poetry, after two such great hands as have gone before me in the same attempts : 1 need not acquaint him that I mean Ben Jonson, and the earl of Roscommon ; the one being of so established an authority, that whatever he did is held as sacred, the other having lately performed it with such admirable success, as almost cuts off all hope in any after pretenders, of ever coming up to what he has done."
The last is Henry Ames :
" }Tis certain my lord Roscommon has not only excelled in justness oj" version and elegance of style, but has given his poet all the natural beauties and genteel plainness of the English dress ; but his lordship rid with a slack rein, and freed himself at once from all the incumbrance and perplexity of rhyme ; and sure it must be confessed some difficulty to be circumscribed to syllables and sounds : Mr. Oldham, indeed, has very skill- fully touched the Horatian lyre, and worked it into musical harmony ; but^o modernized the poem, and reduced it to the standard of his own time, that a peevish reader may not only be disgusted at want of the poetical history, but think himself privileged to except against all such freedoms in any one but Mr. Oldham.
Ben Jonson, (with submission to his memory,) by trans, grossing a most useful precept, has widely differed from them both ; and trod so close upon the heels of Horace, that he has not only crampt? but made him halt, in (almost) every line,"
HORATIUS
DE
ARTE POETICA.
Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam Jungere si velit, et varias inducere plumas, Undique coilatis membris, ut turpiter at rum Desinat In piscem mulierformosa supernb ; Sped at urn admissi risum teneatis amici ? Credite, Pisones, isti tabulcefore librum Pet similem, cujus, velut cegri somnia, vanes Fingenlur species : ut nee pes, nee caput uni Rcddaturjorma. Pictoribus, atque poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fait aqua po test as. Scimus ; et hanc veniam petimusque, damusque, vi-
cissim :
Sed non ut placidis coeant immitia, non ut Serpentes ambus geminentur, tigribus agni.
Incceptis gravibus plerunque, et magna prqfessis Purpureus, latk qui splendeat, unus et alter
HORACE
OF THE
ART OF POETRY.1
IF to a woman's head a painter would Set a horse-neck, and divers feathers fold On every limb, ta'en from a several creature, Presenting upwards a fair female feature, Which in some swarthy fish uncomely ends: Admitted to the sight, although his friends, Could you contain your laughter? Credit me, This piece, my Pisos, and that book agree, Whose shapes, like sick men's dreams, are feign'd
so vain,
As neither head, nor feet, one form retain. But equal power to painter and to poet, Of daring all, hath still been given ; we know it : And both do crave, and give again, this leave. Yet, not as therefore wild and tame should cleave Together ; not that we should serpents see With doves ; or lambs with tigers coupled be.
In grave beginnings, and great things profest, Ye have oft-times, that may o'ershine the rest,
1 We are not to look for grace and beauty in this transla- tion : the poet's design being to give as close a version of the text, as the different genius of the two languages would admit. But Jonson will be found perfectly to understand his author, and to exhibit his meaning with his usual vigour and conciseness of style. WHAL.
94 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Assuitur pannus : cum lucus, et ara Diana, Et properantis aquce per amcenos ambitus agros, Autflumen Rhcnum, aut pluvius describitur arcus. Sed nunc non erat his locus : etfortasse cupressum Scis simulare : quid hoc, sifractis enatat exspes Navibus, cere dato qui pingitur ? amphora ccepit Institui ; currente rota, cur urceus exit ? Denique sit, quod vis, simplex duntaxat et unum.
Maxima pars vatum, pater, etjwvenes patre digni, Decipimur specie recti : brems esse laboro, Obscurusjio : sectantem Icevia, nervi Defaiunt animique : professus grandia, turget : Serpit humi, tutus nimium, timidusqueprocellae. Qui variare cupit rem prodigaliter unam, Delphinum sylvis appingit,Jtuctibus aprum. In vitium ducit culp&fuga, si caret arte.
JEmilium circa ludumfaber imus, et ungues Exprimet, et molles imitabitur are capillos ; Infcdix operis summa, quia ponere totum Nesciet. Hunc ego me, si quid componere curem, Non magis esse velim, quam pravo vivere naso, Spectandum nigris oculis, nigroque capillo.
Sumite materiam vestris, qui scribitis, &quam Viribus, et versate diu, quid ferre recusent,
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 95
A scarlet piece, or two, stitch'd in : when or Diana's grove, or altar, with the bor- D'ring circles of swift waters that intwine The pleasant grounds, or when the river Rhine, Or rainbow is describ'd. But here was now No place for these. And, painter, haply thou Know'st only well to paint a cypress-tree. What's this? if he whose money hireth thee To paint him, hath by swimming, hopeless, scap'd, The whole fleet wreck'd ? A great jar to be shap'd, Was meant at first ; why forcing still about Thy labouring wheel, comes scarce a pitcher out? In short, I bid, let what thou work'st upon, Be simple quite throughout, and wholly one.
Most writers, noble sire, and either son, Are, with the likeness of the truth, undone. Myself for shortness labour, and I grow Obscure. This, striving to run smooth, and flow, Hath neither soul nor sinews. Lofty he Professing greatness, swells; that, low by lee, Creeps on the ground ; too safe, afraid of storm. This seeking, in a various kind, to form One thing prodigiously, paints in the woods A dolphin, and a boar amid the floods. So, shunning faults to greater fault doth lead, When in a wrong and artless way we tread.
The worst of statuaries, here about Th' Emilian school, in brass can fashion out The nails, and every curled hair disclose ; But in the main work hapless : since he knows Not to design the whole. Should I aspire To form a work, I would no more desire To be that smith, than live marked one of those, With fair black eyes and hair, and a wry nose.
Take, therefore, you that write, still, matter fit Unto your strength, and long examine it,
96 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Quid valeant humeri. Cm kcta potenter erit res, Necfacundia deseret hunc, nee lucidus or do. Ordinis h&c virtus erit, et Venus, aut ego Jailor, Ut jam mine dicat, jam nunc debentia did; Pleraque dijferat, et prcesens in tempus omittat; Hoc amet, hoc spernat promissi carminis auctor.
In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis, Diveris egregie, notum si callida verbum Reddiderit junctura novum. Si forte necesse est Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum ; Fingere cinctutis non txaudita Cethegis Continget, dabiturque licentia, sumpta pudenter. Et nova fictaque nuper habebunt verbajiolem, si Gr&cofonte cadant, parce detorta. Quid autem Ccecilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademptum Virgilio Varioque ? Ego cur, acquirere pauca Si possum, invideor : cum lingua Catonis, et Ennt Sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum Nomina protulerit ? Licuit, semperque licebit, Signatum prcesente notd producere nomen. Ut sylvcefoliis pronos mutantur in unnos, Prima cadunt ; ita verborum vetus interit cetas, Et juvenum ritujlorent modd nata, vigentque.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 97
Upon your shoulders : prove what they will bear, And what they will not. Him, whose choice doth
rear
His matter to his pow'r, in all he makes, Nor language, nor clear order e'er forsakes ; The virtue of which order, and true grace, Or 1 am much deceiv'd, shall be to place Invention : now to speak ; and then defer Much, that mought now be spoke, omitted here Till fitter season ; now, to like of this, Lay that aside, the epic's office is.
In using also of new words, to be Right spare, and wary : then thou speak'st to me Most worthy praise, when words that common grew Are, by thy cunning placing, made mere new. Yet if by chance, in utt'ring things abstruse, Thou need new terms; thoumayst,withoutexcuse, Feign words unheard of to the well-truss'd race Of the Cethegi ; and all men will grace, And give, being taken modestly, this leave, And those thy new and late coiu'd words receive, So they fall gently from the Grecian spring, And come not too much wrested. What's that thing A Roman to Cascilius will allow, Or Plautus, and in Virgil disavow, Or Varius ? why am I now envy'd so, If I can give some small increase ? when lo, Cato'sandEnnius' tongues have lent much worth, And wealth unto our language, and brought forth New names of things. It hath been ever free, And ever will, to utter terms that be Stamptto thetime. As woods whose change appears Still in their leaves, throughout the sliding years, The first-born dying, so the aged state Of words decays, and phrases born but late, Like tender buds shoot up, and freshly grow. Ourselves, and all that's ours, to death we owe :
VOL. ix. H
98 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Debemur morti nos nostraque : sive reccptus Terrci Neptunus, classes Aquilonibus arcet, Regis opus ; sterilisve diu palus, aptaque remis, Vicinas urbes alit, et grave sentit aratrum : Seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis ; Doctus iter melius. Mortalia facta peribunt, Nedum sermonum stet horns, et gratia vvoax. Multa renascentur, qucejam cecidere, cadentque Quce nunc sunt in honore, vocabula, si volet usus ; Quern penes arbitr'mm est, ctjus, et norma toquendi.
Res gestce ?*egumque, ducumque, et tristia bella Quo scribi possent numero, monstravit Homerus. Versibus impariterjunctis querimonia primum, Post etiam inclusa est voti sententia compos. Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiscrit auctor, Grammatici cert ant, et adhuc subjudice Us est. Musa dedit jidlbus divos puerosque deorum, Et pugilem victorem, et equum certamine primum, Etjuvenum cur as, et liber a vina refer re.
Archilochum proprio rabies armavit 'iambo. Hunc socci cepere pedem, grandesque cothurni, Alternis aptum sermonibus, et populares Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis.
Versibus evponi tragicis res comica non vult. Indignatur item privatis, ac prope socco Dignis carrninibus celebrari ccena Thyestce. Singula quczque locum teneant sortita decenter. Descriptas servare vices operumque colons
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 99
Whether the sea receiv'd into the shore, That from the north the navy safe doth store, A kingly work ; or that long barren fen Once rowable, but now doth nourish men In neighbour towns, and feels the weighty plough ; Or the wild river, who hath changed now His course, so hurtful both to grain and seeds, Being taught a better way. All mortal deeds Shall perish : so far off it is, the state, Or grace of speech, should hope a lasting date. Much phrase that now is dead, shall be reviv'd, And much shall die, that now is nobly liv'd, If custom please ; at whose disposing will The power and rule of speaking resteth still.
The gests of kings, great captains, and sad wars, What number best can fit, Homer declares. In verse unequal match'd, first sour laments, After men's wishes, crown'd in their events, Were also clos'd : but who the man should be, That first sent forth the dapper elegy, All the grammarians strive; and yet in court Before the judge, it hangs, and waits report.
Unto the lyric strings, the muse gave grace To chant the gods, and all their god-like race, The conqu'ring champion, the prime horse in
course,
Fresh lovers business, and the wine's free source. Th' Iambic arm'd Archilochus to rave, This foot the socks took up, and buskins grave> As fit t* exchange discourse ; a verse to win On popular noise with, and do business in.
The comic matter will not be exprest8 In tragic verse ; no less Thyestes' feast Abhors low numbers, and the private strain Fit for the sock : each subject should retain
* The comic matter, &c.] Oldham, who in bi* translation
100 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Cur ego, si nequeo, ignoroque poeta salutor ? Cur nescire, puderis prave, quam discere malo ? Interdiim tamert, et vocem comcedia tollit, Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore, Et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri Tekphus, et Peleus, cum pauper, et exul uterque, Projidt ampullas, et sesquipedalia verba, Si cur at cor sptctantis tetigisse quereld. Non satis est pukhra esse poemata : dulcia sunto, Et quocunque volent animum auditoris agunto. Ut ridentibus arrident, itajtentibus adflent Humani vultus. Si vis meflere, dolendum est Primum ipsi tibi: tune tua me infortunia Icedent Telephe, vel Peleu : male si mandata loqueris* Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo, Tristia mcestum Vultum, verba decent : iratum, plena minarum : Ludentem, lasciva : severum, seria dicta. Format enim naturaprius nos intus ad omnem Fortunarum habitum : juvat, aut impellit ad iram, Aut ad humum mcerore gravi deducit, et angit :
of this poem removes the scene from Rome to London, has adapted this passage to our author's dramatic characters :
" Fit/pone and Muruse will riot admit Of Ctttifin'ti hiuh strains, nor is it fit To make S<Janun on the Stage appear In the low dress which comic persons wear."
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 101
The place allotted it, with decent thewes.
If now the turns, the colours, and right hues
Of poems here described, I can nor use,
Nor know t'observe : why (i'the muses name)
Am I calTd poet? wherefore with wrong shame,
Perversely modest, had I rather owe
To ignorance still, than either learn or know ?
Yet sometime doth the comedy excite
Her voice, and angry Chremes chafes out-right
With swelling throat: and oft the tragic wight
Complains in humble phrase. Both Telephus,
And Peleus, if they seek to heart-strike us
That are spectators, with their misery,
When they are poor, and banish'd, must throw by
Their bombard-phrase, and foot-and half- foot
words :
'Tis not enough, th' elaborate muse affords Her poems beauty, but a sweet delight To work the hearers' minds still to their plight. Men's faces still, with such as laugh are prone To laughter ; so they grieve with those that moan ; If thou would'st have me weep,bethou first drown'd Thyself in tears, then me thy loss will wound, Peleus, or Telephus* If you speak vile And ill-penn'd things, I shall or sleep, or smile* Sad language fits sad looks, stufFd menacirigs The angry brow, the sportive wanton things; And the severe, speech ever serious. For nature, first within doth fashion us, To every state of fortune ; she helps on, Or urgeth us to anger : and anon With weighty sorrow hurls us all along, And tortures us: and after, by the tongue
Not only the translation, as is said above, but the arrangement of the text, mainly differs in the folio and minor editions. I have left both as I found them, not knowing what part of either proceeded from Jonson.
102 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Post ejfert animi mot us inter prete lingua. Si dicentis eruntfortunis absona dicta, Romani tollent equitespeditesquecachinnum. Intererit multum, Davusne loquatur, an heros, Maturusne senex, an adhucjlorentejuventd Fervidus : an matrona potens, an sedula nutrix : Mercatorne vagus, cultorne virentis agelli : Colchus, an Assyrius : Thebis nut r it us, an Argis. Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientiajinge Scriptor. Honoratum sifortb reponis Achillem, Impiger, iracundus, mexorabilis, acer, Jura neget sibi nata, nihil non arroget armis. Sit Medea ferox moictaque,flebilis Ino, Perjidus Ixion, lo vaga, tristis Orestes. Si quid inexpertum scena3 committis, et audes Personamformare novam ; servetur ad imum Qualis ab inccepto processerit, et sibi const et.
Difficile est proprib communia dicere ; tuque Rectius Iliacum carmen deducts in actus, Quam si proferres ignota, indict ague primus. Publica materies privati juris erit ; si Nee circa vilem, patulumque moraberis orbem : Nee verbum verbo curabis- redderejidus Interpres ; nee desilies imitator in arctum, Unde pedem prof err e pu dor vetet, aut operis lex.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 103
Her truchman, she reports the mind's each throe.
If now the phrase of him that speaks, shall flow
In sound, quite from his fortune ; both the rout,
And Roman gentry, jeering, will laugh out.
It much will differ, if a god speak, than,
Or an heroe ; if a ripe old man,
Or some hot youth, yet in his flourishing course ;
Wher some great lady, or her diligent nurse;
A vent'ring merchant, or a farmer free
Of some small thankful land ; whether he be
Of Colchis born, or in Assyria bred ;
Or with the milk of Thebes, or Argus, fed.
Or follow fame, thou that dost write, or feign
Things in themselves agreeing: if again
Honour'd Achilles' chance by thee be seiz'd,
Keep him still active, angry, unappeas'd,
Sharp and contemning laws at him should aim,
Be nought so 'bove him but his sword let claim.
Medea make brave with impetuous scorn ; Ino bewail'd, Ixion false, forsworn ; Poor lo wandring, wild Orestes mad : If something strange, that never yet was had Unto the scene thou bring'st, and dar'st create A mere new person ; look he keep his state Unto the last, as when he first went forth, Still to be like himself, and hold his worth.
'Tis hard to speak things common properly ; And thou may'st better bring a rhapsody Of Homer's forth in acts, than of thine own, First publish things unspoken, and unknown. Yet common matter thou thine own may'st make, If thou the vile broad trodden ring forsake. For, being a poet, thou may'st feign, create, Not care, as thou wouldst faithfully translate, To render word for word : nor with thy sleight Of imitation, leap into a streight, From whence thy modesty, or poem's law Forbids thee forth again thy foot to draw.
104 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Nee sic incipies, ut scriptor cyclicus olim : Fortunam Priami cant a bo, et nobile bellum. Quid (lignum tanto fwet hicpromissor hiatu f Parturiunt monies, nasceter ridiculus mus. Quan td rec titts hie, qui nil molitur inept e • Die mild. Musa, virum, cap Ice post tempora Trojce, Qui mows hominum multorum vidit, et urbes. Non fitmum tx fulgore, sed exfumo dare, lucem Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat, Antipkaten, Sycllamque, et cum Cy elope Charybdim : Nee reditum Diomedis ab Interitu Meleagri. Nee gemino bellum Trojan um orditur ab ovo. Semper ad eventumfestinat, et in medias res, Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit : et qua Desperat tractata nitcscere posse9 relinquit. Atque ita mentitur, sic verts falsa remiscet, Primo ne medium, medio ne discrepet imum. Tu quid ego, et populus mecum desideret, audi. Si plausoris eges aul&a manentis, et usque Sessuri, donee cantor, vos plaudit e, dicat ; JEtatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores, Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus, et annis.
Redder e qui voces jam scit puer, et pede certo Signat humum, gestit paribus colludere, et iram Colligit, ac ponit temere, et mutatur in horas.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 105
Nor so begin, as did that circlerlate,
I sing a noble war, and Priam's fate.
What doth this promiser such gaping worth
Afford? The mountains travail'd, and brought
forth
A scorned mouse ! O, how much better his, Who nought assays unaptly, or amiss ? Speak to me, muse, the man, who after Troy was
sack'd,
Saw many towns and men, and could their man- ners tract.
He thinks not how to give you smoke from light, But light from smoke, that he may draw his bright Wonders forth after : as Antiphates, Scylla, Charybdis, Polypheme, with these. Nor from the brand, with which the life did burn Of Meleager, brings he the return Of Diomede ; nor Troy's sad war begins From the two eggs that did disclose the twins* He ever hastens to the end, and so (As if he knew it) raps his hearer to The middle of his matter ; letting go What he despairs, being handled, mightnotshow: And so well feigns, so mixeth cunningly Falsehood with truth, as no man can espy Where the midst differs from the first ; or where The last doth from the midst disjoin'd appear.
Hear what it is the people and I desire : If such a one's applause thou dost require, That tarries till the hangings be ta'en down, And sits till th' epilogue says Clap, or crown : The customs of each age thou must observe, And give their years and natures, as they swerve, Fit rights. The child, that now knows how to say, And can tread firm, longs with like lads to play ; Soon angry, and soon pleas'd, is sweet, or sour, He knows not why, and changeth every hour.
106 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Imberbis juvenis tandem custode remolo, Gaudet equis canibusque, et aprici gramme campi, Cereus in vitiumflecti, monitoribus asper, Utilium tardus promisor, prodigus ceris, Sublimis, cupidusque, et amata relinquere pernLv.
Conversis studiis, cetas, animusque virilis Qucerit opes, et amicitias : inservit honori : Commisisse cavet, quod mox mutare laboret.
Multa senem circumveniunt incommodd, vel qudd Quterit, et inventis miser abstinet, ac timet uti : Vel qudd res omnes timide gelideque ministrat ; Dilator, spe longus, iners, avidusque futuri, Difficilis, querulus, laudator temporis acti Se puero : censor, castigatorque minorum. Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum ; Multa recedentes adimunt, ne forte seniles Mandentur juveni paries, pueroque viriles, Semper in adjunctis, cevoque morabimur aptis.
Aut agitur res in scenis, aut act a refertur, Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem, Quam quce sunt oculis subject a Jidelib us, et qua Ipse sibi tradit spectator. Non tamen intus Digna geri, promes in scenam : multaque tolles Ex oculis, qu& mox narret facundia pr&sens*
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 107
Th 'unbearded youth, his guardian once being
gone,
Loves dogs and horses ; and is ever one I' the open field ; is wax-like to be- wrought To every vice, as hardly to be brought To endure counsel : a provider slow For his own good, a careless letter-go Of money, haughty, to desire soon mov'd, And then as swift to leave what he hath lov'd. These studies alter now, in one grown man ; His better'd mind seeks wealth and friendship;
than
Looks after honours, and bewares to act What straightway he must labour to retract.
The old man many evils do girt round ; Either because he seeks, and, having found, Doth wretchedly the use of things forbear, Or does all business coldly, and with fear; A great deferrer, long in hope, grown numb With sloth, yet greedy still of what's to come : Froward, complaining, a commender glad Of the times past, when he was a young lad : And still correcting youth, and censuring. Man's coming years much good with them do
bring :
As his departing take much thence, lest then The parts of age to youth be given, or men To children ; we must always dwell, and stay In fitting proper adjuncts to each day.
The business either on the stage is done, Or acted told. But ever things that run In at the ear, do stir the mind more slow Than those the faithful eyes take in by show, And the beholder to himself doth render. Yet to the stage at all thou may'st not tender Things worthy to be done within, but take Much from the sight, which fair report will make
108 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Nee pueros cor am populo Medea trucidet ; Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus ; Aut In avem Progne vertatur, Cadmus in anguem. Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.
Neve minor ) quinto, neu sit productior actu Fabula, qua posci vult, et spectata reponi. Nee deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus Incident : nee quarta loqui persona labor et.
Actoris paries chorus, qfficlumque virile Defendat, neu quid medios intercinat actus, Quod non proposito conducat, et h&reat apte. Ille boriisjaveatque, et conciletur amice : Et regat iratos, et amet peccare timentes. Ille dapes laudet mensce breins : ille salubrem Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis. Ille tegat commissa, deosque precetur, et oret, Ut redeat miser is, abeat for tuna super bis.
Tibia non, ut nunc, orichalcho vincta, tubceque Emula, sed tennis, simplex j 'or amine pauco Aspirare, et adesse chons erat utilis, atque Nondum spissa nimis complcre sedilia flatu. Qud sane populus numerabilis, utpotc parvus, Etjrugi, castusque verecundusqut coibat. Postquam ccepit agros exttndtre victor, et urbem Latior amplecti murus, vinoque diurno, Placari Genius festis impune diebus,
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 109
Present anon : Medea must not kill Her sons before the people, nor the ill- Natur'd and wicked Atreus cook to th' eye His nephew's entrails: nor must Progne fly Into a swallow there ; nor Cadmus take Upon the stage the figure of a snake. What so is shown, I not believe, and hate.
Nor must the fable, that would hope the fate Once seen, to be again call'd for, and play'd, Have more or less than just five acts : nor laid, To have a god come in ; except a knot Worth his untying happen there : and not Any fourth man, to speak at all, aspire.
An actor's parts, and office too, the quire Must maintain manly : nor be heard to sing Between the acts, a quite clean other thing Than to the purpose leads, and fitly 'grees. It still must favour good men, and to these Be won a friend ; it must both sway and bend The angry, and love those that fear t' offend. Praise the spare diet, wholesome justice, laws, Peace, and the open ports, that peace doth cause. Hide faults, pray to the gods, and wish aloud Fortune would love the poor, and leave the proud.
The hau'boy, not as now with latten bound, And rival with the trumpet for his sound, But soft, and simple, at few holds breath'd time And tune too, fitted to the chorus' rhyme, As loud enough to fill the seats, not yet So over-thick, but where the people met, They might with ease be number'd, being a few Chaste, thrifty, modest folk, that came to view. But as they conquer' d and enlarg'd their bound, That wider walls embiac'd their city round, And they uncensur'd might at feasts and plays Steep the glad genius in the wine whole days,
110 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Accessit numerisque modisque licentia major. Indoctus quid enim saperet, liberque laborum, Rusticus urbano confusus, turpis honesto ? Sic priscce motumque, et luxuriant addidit arti Tibicen, traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem. Sic etiam fidibus voces crevere. severis, Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia praiceps. TJtiliumque sagax rerum, et divina futuri Sortilegis non descrepuit sententia Delphis.
Ignotum Tragicce genus invenisse Camcence Dicitut*, et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis, Quce canerent agerentque perunctifacibus ora. Post hunc personce pallceque. repertor honestce jEschylus, et modicis instravit pulpita tignis, Et docuit magnumque loqui nitique cothurno. Carmine qui tragico vilem certavit ob hircum, Mox etiam agrestes satyros nudavit, et asper Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit : ed quod Illecebris erat, et grata novitate morandus Spectator, fanctusque sacris, et potus, et exlex.
Verum ita risores, ita commendare dicaces Convenient satyros, ita vertere seria ludo : Ne, quicunque deus, quicunque adhibebitur heros, Regali conspectus in auro nuper, et ostro, Migret in obscuras humili scrmone tabernas ;
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY, in
Both in their tunes the license greater grew, And in their numbers ; for alas, what knew The idiot, keeping holida}r, or drudge, Clown, townsman, base and noble mixt, to judge? Thus to his ancient art the piper lent Gesture and Riot, whilst he swooping went In his train'd go\vn about the stage : so grew In time to tragedy, a music new. The rash and headlong eloquence brought forth Unwonted language : and that sense of worth That found out profit, and foretold each thing Now differed not from Delphic riddling.
Thespis is said to be the first found out The Tragedy, and carried it about, Till then unknown, in carts, wherein did ride Those that did sing, and act: their faces dy'd With lees of wine. Next Eschylus, more late Brought in the visor, and the robe of state, Built a small timber'd stage, and taught them
talk
Lofty and grave, and in the buskin stalk. He too, that did in tragic verse contend For the vile goat, soon after forth did send The rough rude satyrs naked, and would try, Though sour, with safety of his gravity, How he could jest, because he mark'd and saw The free spectators subject to no law, Having well eat and drunk, the rites being done, Were to be staid with softnesses, and won With something that was acceptably new. Yet so the scoffing satyrs to men's view, And so their prating to present was best, And so to turn all earnest into jest, As neither any god were brought in there, Or semi-god, that late was seen to wear A royal crown and purple, be made hop With poor base terms through every baser shop :
HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Aut, dum vitat humum, nubes, et inania captet.
Ejfutire leves indigna tragoedia versus : Utjestis matrona moverijussa diebus, Intererit satyris paulum pudibunda protervis.
Non ego inornata, et dominantia nomina solum, Verbaque, Pisones, satyrorum scriptor amabo : Nee sic emtar tragico differre colori Iff nihil intersit, JDavusne loquatur, an audax Pythias emuncto lucrata Simone talentum ; An custos, famulusque dei Silenus alumni.
Ex notofctum carmen sequar, ut sibi quwis Speret idem : sudet multumjrustraque laboret Ausus idem : tantum series juncturaque pollet : Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris. Sitois deducti caveant, mejudice, Fauni, Ne velut innati triviis, ac peneforcnses, Aut nimium tenerisjuvenentur versibus unquam, Aut immunda crepent, ignominiosaque dicta. Offenduntur enim, quibus est equus, et pater, et res Nee, si quidfricti ciceris probat, et nucis emptor, JEquis accipiunt animis, donantve corona.
Successit vet us his Comcedia non sine multa Laude, sed in vitium libertas excidit, et vim
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 113
Or whilst he shuns the earth, to catch at air And empty clouds. For tragedy is fair, And far unworthy to blurt out light rhymes ; But as a matron drawn at solemn times To dance, so she should shamefac'd differ far From what th' obscene and petulant satyrs are. Nor I, when I write satyrs, will so love Plain phrase, iny Pisos, as alone t' approve Mere reigning words : nor will I labour so Quite from all face of tragedy to go, As not make difference, whether Davus speak, And the bold Pythias, having cheated weak Simo, and of a talent wip'd his purse ; Or old Silenus, Bacchus' guard and nurse. I can out of known geer a fable frame, And so as every man may hope the same ; Yet he that offers at it may sweat much, And toil in vain : the excellence is such Of order and connexion ; so much grace There comes sometimes to things of meanest
place.
But let the Fauns, drawn from their groves, be- ware,
Be I their judge, they do at no time dare, Like men street-born, and near the hall rehearse Their youthful tricks in over-wanton verse ; Or crack out bawdy speeches, and unclean. The Roman gentry, men of birth and mean, Will take offence at this : nor though it strike Him that buys chiches blanch'd, or chance to like The nut-crackers throughout, will they therefore Receive or give it an applause the more. To these succeeded the old comedy, And not without much praise, till liberty Fell into fault so far, as now they saw Her license fit to be restrain'd by law : VOL. ix. I
114 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETIC A.
Dignam lege regi. Lex est accept a, chor usque Turpiter obticuit, sublatojure nocendi.
Syllaba longa brevi subject a vocatur Iambus, Pes citus : unde etiam trimetris accrescere jussit Nomtn lambeis, cum senos redderet ictus, Primus ad extremum similis sibi : non itapridem Tardior ut paulo graviorque veniret ad aures, Spondceos stabiles in jura paterna recepit Commodus, et patiens : non ut de sede secunda Cedcret, aut quarta socialiter : hie et in Acci Nobilibus trimetris apparet raniSj et Enni. In sccenam missos magno cum pondere versus, Aut operce celeris nimium) curaque carentis, Aut ignoratce premit artis crimine turpi. Non quivis videt immodulata poematajudex : Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis, Idcircdne vager, scribamque lictnter ? an omnes Visuros peccata putem mea ? tutus, et intra Spem Venice cautus ? vitavi denique culpam, Non laudem merui. Vos exemplaria Grceca Nocturnd versate manu, versate diurna.
At nostri proavi Plautinos, et numeros, et Laudavere sales : nimium patient er utrumquet Ne dicam stulte, mirati ; si modd ego, et vos Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto, Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus, et aure.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 115
Which law receiv'd, the chorus held his peace, His power of foully hurting made to cease.
Two rests, a short and long, th' Iambic frame ; A foot, whose swiftness gave the verse the name Of Trimeter, when yet it was six-.pac'd, But mere Iambics all, from first to last. Nor is't long since they did with patience take Into their birth-right, and for fitness sake, The steady Spondees ; so themselves do bear More slow, and come more weighty to the ear: Provided, ne'er to yield, in any case Of fellowship, the fourth or second place. This foot yet, in the famous Trimeters Of Accius and Ennius, rare appears : So rare, as with some tax it doth engage Those heavy verses sent so to the stage, Of too much haste, and negligence in part, Or a worse crime, the ignorance of art. But every judge hath not the faculty To note in poems breach of harmony ; And there is given too unworthy leave To Roman poets. Shall I therefore weave My verse at random, and licentiously ? Or rather, thinking all my faults may spy, Grow a safe writer, and be wary driven Within the hope of having all forgiven. 'Tis clear this way I have got off from blame, But, in conclusion, merited no fame. Take you the Greek examples for your light, In hand, and turn them over day and night. Our ancestors did Plautus' numbers praise, And jests ; and both to admiration raise Too patiently, that I not fondly say, If either you or I know the right way To part scurrility from wit; or can A lawful verse by th' ear or finger scan
12
116 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETIC A.
Nil intentatum nostri liquere poetce, Nee minimum merit ere decus, vestigia Grceca Ausi deserere, ef celebrare domesticafacta : Vel qui prattxtas, vel qui docuere togatas.
Nee virtutcforet, clarisve potcntius armis, Quam lingud, Latium, si non offenderct unum- quemque poetarum limce labor, et mora. Vos> 6 Pompilius sanguis, carmen reprehendite, quod non Multa dies, et multa litura coercuit, atque Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem. Ingenium misera quiafortunatius arte Credit, et excludit sanos Helicone poet as DcmocrituS) bona pars non ungues ponere cur at > Non barbam ; secreta petit loca, balnea yitat. Nanciscetur enim pretium, nomenque poetce, Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam Tonson Licino commiserit. O ego lavus, Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam. Non aliusjactret meliora poemata : verum, Nil tanti est : ergofungar vice cotis, acutum Reddere quceferrum valet \ exsors ipsa secandi. Munus et officium, nil scribens ipse, docebo ; Unde parentur opes : quid alatjormetque poet am :
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 117
Our poets too left nought unproved here $ Nor did they merit the less crown to wear, In daring to forsake the Grecian tracts, And celebrating our own home- born facts; Whether the garded tragedy the$ wrought, Or 'twere the gowned comedy they taught.
Nor had our Italy more glorious been In virtue, and renown of arms, than in Her language, if the stay and care t' have
mended,
Had not our every poet like offended. But you, Pompilius' offspring, spare you npt To tax that verse, which many a day and blot Have not kept in ; and (lest perfection fail) Not ten times o'er corrected to the nail. Because Democritus believes a wit Happier than wretched art, and doth by it Exclude all sober poets from their share In Helicon ; a great sort will not pare Their nails, nor shave their beards, but to bye- paths
Retire themselves, avoid the public baths ; For so they shall not only gain the worth, But fame of poets, they think, if they come forth And from the barber Licinus conceal Their heads, which three Anticyras cannot heal.
0 I left-witted, that purge every spring For choler ! if I did not, who could bring Out better poems ? but I cannot buy
My title at the rate, I'd rather, I,
Be like a whetstone, that an edge can put
On steel, though't self be dull, and cannot cut.
1 writing nought myself, will teach them yet Their charge and office, whence their wealth to
fet,
What nourisheth, what formed, what begot The poet, what becometh, and what not,
118 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Quid deceat, quid non : quo virtus, quoferat error
Scribendi recte sapere est et principium etfons. Rem tlbi Socratica poterunt ostendere chart a : Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequenttir. Qui didicit, pat rife quid debeat, et quid amicis : Quo sit amore par ens, quo f rater amandits, et hospes Quod sit conscripti, quodjudicis officium : qua Partes in bellum missi duds, ille project^ Redder e persona scit convenientia cuique. Respicere exemplar vita, morumque jubebo Doctum imitator em, et veras hinc ducere voces. Interdum speciosa locis, morataque recte Fabula, nullius Feneris, sine ponder e, et arte, Valdius oblectat populum, meliusque moratur, Quam versus inopes rerum, nugceque canora. Gratis ingenium, Gratis dedit ore rot undo Musa loqui, prater laudem, nullius avaris. Romani pueri longis rationibus assem Discunt in paries centum diducere. Dicat Films Albini, si de quincunce remota est Uncia, quid superat ? poteras dixisse triens ; eu, Rem poteris servare tuam : redit uncia : quid Jit f Semis : ad hac animos arugo, et cura pecutt,
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 119
Whither truth may, and whither error bring. The very root of writing well, and spring Is to be wise ; thy matter first to know, Which the Socratic writings best can show : And where the matter is provided still, There words will follow, not against their will. He that hath studied well the debt, and knows What to his country, what his friends he owes, What height of love a parent will fit best, What brethren, what a stranger, and his guest, Can tell a statesman's duty, what the arts And office of a judge are, what the parts Of a brave chief sent to the wars : he can, Indeed, give fitting dues to every man. And I still bid the learned maker look On life, and manners, and make those his book, Thence draw forth true expressions. For some- times,
A poem of no grace, weight, art, in rhymes With specious places, and being humour'd right, More strongly takes the people with delight, And better stays them there than all fine noise Of verse, mere matterless, and tinkling toys. The muse not only gave the Greeks a wit, But a welUcompass'd mouth to utter it. Being men were covetous of nought, but praise : Our Roman youths they learn the subtle ways How to divide into a hundred parts A pound, or piece, by their long compting arts : There's Albin's son will say, Subtract an ounce From the five ounces, what remains ? pronounce A third of twelve, you may ; four ounces. Glad, He cries, good boy, thou'lt keep thine own. Now
add An ounce, what makes it then ? the half-pound
just, Six ounces. O, when once the canker'd rust.
120 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Cum semel imbuerit, speramus carminajingi Posse linenda cedro, et lavi servanda cupresso f Aut prodesse volunt, out deJectare poeta, Aut simul etjucunda, et idonea dlcere vita.
Sylvestres homines sacer, interpresque deorum, Cadibus et victufado deter ruit Orpheus, Dictus ob hoc lenire tigres, rabidosque leones : Dictus et Amphion, Thebance conditor arcis, Saxa movere sono testudinis, et prece blanda Ducere quo vellet. Fuit hac sapient la quondam^ Publica privatis secernere, sacra projanis, Concubitu prohibere vago : dare jura maritis, Oppida moliri, leges incidere ligno. Sic honor, et nomen dvoinis vatibus, atque Carminibus venit ; post hos insignis Homerus, Tyrtausque mares animos in Martia bella Versibus exacuit : dicta per carmina sortes, Et vita monstrata via est, et gratia regum Pieriis tentata modis, ludusque repertus, Et longorum operum finis : ne forte pudori Sit tibi musa lyra solers, et cantor Apollo
Quicquid pracipies esto brevis : ut citd dicta Percipiant animi dociles, teneantquejideles. Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 121
And care of getting, thus our minds hath stain'd ; Think we, or hope there can be verses feign'd In juice of cedar worthy to be steep'd, And in smooth cypress boxes to be keep'd? Poets would either profit or delight ; Or mixing sweet and fit, teach life the right. Orpheus, a priest, and speaker of the gods, First frighted men, that wildly liv'd, at odds, From slaughters, and foul life ; and for the same Was tigers said, and lions fierce to tame. Amphion too, that built the Theban towers, Was said to move the stones by his lute's powers, And lead them with soft songs, where that he
would.
This was the wisdom that they had of old, Things sacred from profane to separate ; The public from the private, to abate Wild raging lusts; prescribe the marriage good ; Build towns, and carve the laws in leaves of wood. And thus at first, an honour, and a name To divine poets, and their verses came. Next these, great Homer and Tyrtseus set On edge the masculine spirits, and did whet Their minds to wars, and rhymes they did re
hearse ;
The oracles too were given out in verse; All way of life was shewn ; the grace of kings Attempted by the muses tunes and strings ; Plays were found out, and rest, the end and crown Of their long labours, was in verse set down: All which I tell, lest when Apollo's nam'd, Or muse, upon the lyre, thou chance b'asham'd. Be brief in what thou wouldst command, that
so
The docile mind might soon thy precepts know, And hold them faithfully ; for nothing rests, But flows out, that o'erswelleth, in full breasts.
HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Ficta, voluptatis causa, sint proximo, veris. Nee quodcunque volet, poscat sibij'abula credi : Neu pransa Lamia vivum puerum txtrahat alvo. Centuria seniorum agitant expert ia frugis : Celsi prcetercunt austera poemata Rhamnes. Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci, Lectorem delectando, pariterr/ue monendo. Hie meret am liber Sosiis : hie et mare transit, Et longum noto scriptori prorogat avum.
Sunt delicta tamen quibus ignovisse velimus. Nam ncque chorda sonum reddit, qucm vult manus,
et mens,
Poscentique gravem, persccpe remit tit acutum : Nee semper jeriet, quodcunque minabitur arcus. Veriim ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis Offendar maculis, quas aut incuriafudit, Aut humana parum cavit natura : quid ergo ? Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque, Quamvis est monitus, venia caret ; et citharcsdus llidetur, chorda qui semper oberrat eadem : Sic mihi, qui multum cessat.Jit Clmrilus ilk, Quern bis terque bonum cum risu miror ; et idem Indignor : quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus. Verum opere in longofas est obrepere somnum. Ut pictura, poesis erit : qua, si propius stes> Te capiet magis, et quadam, si longius abstes.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 123
Let what thou feign 'st for pleasure's sake, be
near
The truth ; nor let thy fable think whate'er It would, must be : lest it alive would draw The child, when Lamia has din'd, out of her maw. The poems void of profit, our grave men Cast out by voices ; want they pleasure, then Our gallants give them none, but pass them by ; But he hath every suffrage, can apply Sweet mixt with sour to his reader, so As doctrine and delight together go. This book will get the Sosii money; this Will pass the seas, and long as nature is, With honour make the far-known author live.
There are yet faults, which we would well
forgive,
For neither doth the string still yield that sound The hand and mind would, but it will resound Oft-times a sharp, when we require a flat: Nor always doth the loosed bow hit that Which it doth threaten. Therefore, where I see Much in the poem shine, I will not be Offended with few spots, which negligence Hath shed, or human frailty not kept thence, How then ? why as a scrivener, if h' offend Still in the same, and warned will not mend, Deserves no pardon ; or who'd play, and sing Is laugh'd at, that still jarreth on one string : So he that flaggeth much, becomes to me A Cherilus, in whom if I but see Twice or thrice good, I wonder ; but am more Angry. Sometimes I hear good Homer snore ; But I confess, that in a long work, sleep May, with some right, upon an author creep.
As painting, so is poesy. Some man's hand Will take you more, the nearer that you stand;
124 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETIC A.
Hac amat obscurum : volet hcec sub luce videri, Judicis argutum quce nonformidat acumen. Hcec placuit semel : hac decies repetita placebit.
O major j we enum, quamvis, et voce paterna Fingeris ad rectum, et per te sapis, hoc tibi dictum Tolle memor : certis medium, et tolerabile rebus Recte concedi : consult us juris, et actor Causarum mediocris, abest virtute diserti Messalce, nee scit quantum Cascellius Aulus : Sed tamen in pretio est. Mediocribus esse poetis Non homines, non di, non concessere columnar.
Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors, Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle papaver, Offendunt ; poterat duci quia ccena sine istis : Sic animis natum iiwentumque poemajuvandis, Si paulum a summo discessit, vergit ad imum.
Ludere qui nescit, campestribus abstinet armis, Indoctusque pila discive, trochive, quiescit, Ne spissce risum tollant impune corona. Qui nescit, versus tamen audetjingere ; quid ni f Liber, et ingenuus, prasertim census equestrem Summam nummorum, vitioque ; remotus ab omni. Tu nihil invitd dices, faciesve Minervd.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 125
As some the farther off; this loves the dark ; This fearing not the subtlest judge's mark, Will in the light be view'd : this once the sight Doth please, this ten times over will delight.
You, sir, the elder brother, though you are Informed rightly, by your father's care, And of yourself too understand; yet mind This saying: to some things there is assigned A mean, and toleration, which does well : There may a lawyer be, may not excel ; Or pleader at the bar, that may come short Of eloquent Messala's power in court, Or knows not what Cacellius Aulus can; Yet there's a value given to this man. But neither men, nor gods, nor pillars meant, Poets should ever be indifferent.
As jarring music doth at jolly feasts, Or thick gross ointment but offend the guests: As poppy, and Sardan honey ; 'cause without These, the free meal might have been well drawn
out :
So any poem, fancied, or forth-brought To bett'ring of the mind of man, in aught, If ne'er so little it depart the first And highest, sinketh to the lowest and worst.
He that not knows the games, nor how to use His arms in Mars his field, he doth refuse ; Or who's unskilful at the coit, or ball, Or trundling wheel, he can sit still from all; Lest the throng'd heaps should on a laughter
take :
Yet who's most ignorant, dares verses make^ Why not? I'm gentle, and free born, do hate Vice, and am known to have a knight's estate. Thou, such thy judgment is, thy knowledge too, Wilt nothing against nature speak or do;
126 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETIC A.
Id tibi judicium est, ea mens, si quid tamen olim
Scripseris, in Meti descendat judicis aures,
Et patris, et nostras, nonumque prematur in annum*
Membranis intus positis delere licebit,
Quod non edideris. Nescit vox rnissa reverti.
Natur&jieret laudabile carmen, an arfe, Qucesitum est : ego nee studium sine divite vena, Nee rude quid prosit video ingenium ; alterius sic Alter a poscit opem^res, et conjurat amice.
Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, Multa tulit fecitque puer : sudavit, et alsit, Abstinuit Vemre, et vino : qui Pythica cantat Tibicen, didicit prius, extlmuitque magistrum. Nunc satis est dlrisse, Ego mira poemata pango : Occupet extremum scabies, mihi turpe relinqui est, Et quod non didici, sane nescirefateri.
Ut praco ad merces turbam qui cogit emendas, Adsentatores jubet ad lucrum ire poet a Dives agris} dives positis* in fcenore nummis. Si verd est, unctum qui recte ponere possit, Et spondere levi pro paupere, et eripere atris Litibus implicitum ; mirabor, si sciet inter- noscere mendacem verumque beatus amicum. Tu seu donaris, seu quid donare voles cui,
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 127
But if hereafter thou shalt write, not fear To send it to be judg'd by Metius' ear, And to your father's, and to mine, though't be Nine years kept in, your papers by, yo' are free To change and mend, what you not forth do set. The writ, once out, never returned yet.
Tis now inquir'd which makes the nobler
verse,
Nature, or art. My judgment will not pierce Into the profits, what a mere rude brain Can ; nor all toil, without a wealthy vein : So doth the one the other's help require, And friendly should unto one end conspire.
He that's ambitious in the race to touch The wished goal, both did, and suifer'd much While he was young; he sweat, and freez'd
again,
And both from wine and women did abstain. Who since to sing the Pythian rites is heard, Did learn them first, and once a master fear'd. But now it is enough to say, I make An admirable verse. The great scurf take Him that is last, I scorn to come behind, Or of the things that ne'er came in my mind To say, I'm ignorant. Just as a crier That to the sale of wares calls every buyer ; So doth the poet, who is rich in land, Or great in moneys out at use, command His flatterers to their gain. But say, he can Make a great supper, or for some poor man Will be a surety, or can help him out Of an entangling suit, and bring't about : I wonder how this happy man should know, Whether his soothing friend speak truth or no. But you, my Piso, carefully beware (Whether yo'are given to, or giver are)
128 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETIC A.
Nolito ad verms tibifactos ducere plenum Lcetitia : clamabit enim, Pulchre, bene, recte. Pallesdt super his : etiam stillabit amids Ex oculis rorem, saliet, tundet pede terram. Ut qui conducti plorant injunere, dicunt, Etjadunt prope plura dolentibus ex ammo : sic Derisor vero plus laudatore movetur.
Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis, Et torquere mero, quern perspexisse labor ent. An sit amidtid dignus : si carwina condes, Nunquam tefallant animl sub vulpe latentes.
Quintilio, si quid redtares, corrige, sodes, Hoc, aiebat, et hoc : melius te posse negares, Bis, terque expert umfrustr a ; delerejubebat, Et male tornatos incudi reddere versus, Si defendere detictum, quam vertere malles, Nullum ultra verbum, aut operam sumebat inanem, Quin sine rivali teque et tua solus amares.
Vir bonus et prudens. versus reprehendit inertes, Culpabit duros, incomptis allinet atrum Transverso calamo signum, ambitiosa recidet Ornamenta, parum dans lucem dare coget : Argue t ambigue dictum, mutanda not obit : Fiet Aristarchus, nee dicet, Cur ego amicum
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 129
You do not bring to judge your verses, one, With joy of what is given him, over-gone : For he'll cry, Good, brave, better, excellent ! Look pale, distil a shower (was never meant) Out at his friendly eyes, leap, beat the groun', As those that hir'd to weep at funerals swoon, Cry, and do more to the true mourners : so The scoffer the true praiser doth out-go.
Rich men are said with many cups to ply, And rack with wine the man whom they would
try,
If of their friendship he be worthy or no : When you write verses, with your judge do so : Look through him, and be sure you take not
mocks For praises, where the mind conceals a fox.
If to Quintilius you recited aught, He'd say, Mend this, good friend, and this; 'tis
naught.
If you denied you had no better strain, And twice or thrice had 'ssay'd it, still in vain : He'd bid blot all, and to the anvil bring Those ill-torn'd verses to new hammering. Then if your fault you rather had defend Than change ; no word or work more would he
spend
In vain, but you and yours you should love still Alone, without a rival, by his will.
A wise and honest man will cry out shame On artless verse ; the hard ones he will blame, Blot out the careless with his turned pen ; Cut off superfluous ornaments, and when They're dark, bid clear this : all that's doubtful
wrote
Reprove, and what is to be changed note ; Become an Aristarchus. And not say Why should I grieve my friend this trifling way ? VOL. ix. K
130 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Offendam in nugis ? ha nuga seria ducent In mala, semel derisum, exceptumque sinistrL
Ut mala quern scabies, aut morbus regius urget, Autfanaticus error, et iracunda Diana, Vesanum tetigisse timent,fugiuntque poetam, Qui sapiunt : agitant pueri, incautique sequuntur. Hie dum sublimes versus ructatur, et err at ; Si veluti merulis intent us decidit auceps In puteum, foveamve, licet Succurrite, longum Clamet Id ewes ! non sit qui tollere curet. Si quis curet opemferre, et demitterefunem. Qui scis, an prudens hue se dejecerit, atque Servari nolit ? dicam, Siculique poet a Narrabo interitum. Deus immortalis haberi Dum cupit Empedocles, ardentemfrigidus JEtnam Insiluit. Sit jus, liceatque perire poctis. Invitum qui servat, idemjacit occidenti. Nee semel hoc fecit : nee si retractus erit, jam Fiet homo : et ponetfamosa mortis amorem.
Nee satis apparet, cur versus factitet : utrum Minxerit in patrios cineres, an triste bidental Moverit incestus : certbfurit, ac, velut urms,
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 131
These trifles into serious mischiefs lead The man once mock'd, and suffer'd wrong to tread.
Wise sober folk a frantic poet fear ; And shun to touch him, as a man that were Infected with the leprosy, or had The yellow jaundice, or were furious mad, According to the moon. But then the boys They vex, and follow him with shouts and
noise;
The while he belcheth lofty verses out, And stalketh, like a fowler, round about, Busy to catch a black-bird, if he fall Into a pit or hole, although he call And cry aloud, Help, gentle countrymen ! There's none will take the care to help him then ; For if one should, and with a rope make haste To let it down, who knows if he did cast Himself there purposely or no, and would Not thence be sav'd, although indeed he could? I'll tell you but the death and the disease Of the Sicilian poet Empedoclcs : He, while he labour'd to be thought a god Immortal, took a melancholic, odd Conceit, and into burning JEtna leapt. Let poets perish, that will not be kept. He that preserves a man against his will, Doth the same thing with him that would him
kill.
Nor did he do this once ; for if you can Recall him yet, he'd be no more a man, Or love of this so famous death lay by.
His cause of making verses none knows why, Whether he piss'd upon his father's grave, Or the sad thunder-stroken thing he have Defiled, touch'd; but certain he was mad, And as a bear, if he the strength but had
K2
132 HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA.
Objectos cavea valuit sifrangere clatkros, Indoctum doctumque fugat r eat at or acerbus. Quern verd arripuit, tenet occiditque legendo, Non missura cutem nisi plena cruoris hirudo.
HORACE OF THE ART OF POETRY. 133
To force the grates that hold him in, would
fright
All: so this grievous writer puts to flight Learn'd and unlearn'd, holding whom once he
takes,
And there an end of him reciting makes ; Not letting go his hold, where he draws food, Till he drop off, a horse-leech, full of blood.
134 UNDERWOODS.
HORAT. OD. LIB. V. OD. II. VITJE RUSTICJE LAUDES.
Beatus ille^ qui procul negotiis,
Ut prise a gens mortal ium, Paterna rura bobus exercet suis>
Solutus omnifanore : Nee excitatur classico miles truci,
Nee horret iratum mare : Forumque vital, et superba civium
Potentiorum limina. Ergo aut adulta vitium propagine
Alias marital populos : Inutile sque f alee ramos amputans,
Feliciores inseret : Aut in reducla valle mugientium
Prospectat errantes greges : Aut pressa puris mella condit amphoris,
Aut tondet infirmas oves : Vd cum decorum mitibus pomis caput
Autumnus arris extulit : Ut gaudet insitiva decerpens pyra,
Certanlem et uvam purpura, Qua muneretur te, Priape, et te, pater
Sylvane^ tutor jinium !
* Beatus ille, &c.] This Ode seems to have been a peculiar favourite with the poets of our author's age. It is translated by sir John Beaumont, Randolph and others ; but by none of them with much success. Denham had not yet propagated his manly and judicious sentiments on translation, and the grace and
UNDERWOODS. 135
THE
PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.
Happy is he, that from all business clear,
As the old race of mankind were, With his own oxen tills his sire's left lands,
And is not in the usurer's bands : Nor soldier-like, started with rough alarms,
Nor dreads the sea's enraged harms : But flies the bar and courts, with the proud boards,
And waiting-chambers of great lords. The poplar tall he then doth marrying twine
With the grown issue of the vine ; And with his hook lops off the fruitless race,
And sets more happy in the place : Or in the bending vale beholds afar
The lowing herds there grazing are : Or the prest honey in pure pots doth keep
Of earth, and shears the tender sheep : Or when that autumn through the fields lifts round
His head, with mellow apples crown'd, How plucking pears, his own hand grafted had,
And purple-matching grapes, he's glad ! With which, Priapus, he may thank thy hands,
And, Sylvan, thine, that kept'st his lands !
freedom of poetry were sacrificed by almost general consent to a strict and rigid fidelity. As these versions have no date, it is not possible to say whether they were the exercises of the school-boy or the productions of riper age. None of them were committed to the press by the poet.
136 UNDERWOODS.
Libetjacere modo sub antiqua ilice ;
Modo in tenaci gramine. Labuntur altis interim ripis aqua :
Queruntur in sylvis aves, Fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus,
Somnos quod invitet leves. At cum tonentis annus hibernus Jovis
Imbres nivesque comparat ; Aut trudit acres hinc, el hinc multa cane
Apr os in obst antes plagas : Aut amite levi rara tendit retia ;
Turdis edacibus dolos ; Pavidumque lefrorem, ei advenam laqueo gruem,
Jucunda captat pramia : Quis non malar urn, quas amor cur as habtt,
Hac inter obliviscitur ? Qudd si pudica mulier in partemjuvet
Domum, atque dukes liber os, (Sabina quails^ aut perusta solibus
Pemicis uxor Appuli Sacrum vestusti extruat lignisfocum
Lassi sub adventum ririj Claudensque textis cratibus latum pecus
Distenla siccet ubera ; Et horna dulci vina promens dolio
Dapes inemptas apparet ; JVon me Lucrina juverint conchyliay
Magisve rhombus^ aut scari Si quos Eois intonata fluctibus
Hyems ad hoc verlat mare : Non Afra avis descendat in ventrem meum ;
Non attagen lonicus Jucundioiy quam lecta de pinguissimis
Oliva i amis arborum : Aut herba lapathi prata amantis, et gravi
Malva salubres corpori ;
UNDERWOODS. 137
Then now beneath some ancient oak he may
Now in the rooted grass him lay, Whilst from the higher hanks do slide the floods ;
The soft birds quarrel in the woods, The fountains murmur as the streams do creep,
And all invite to easy sleep. Then when the thuud'ring Jove, his snow and showers
Are gathering by the wintry hours : Or hence, or thence, he drives with many abound
Wild boars into his toils pitch'd round: Or strains on his small fork his subtle nets
For th' eating thrush, or pit-falls sets : And snares the fearful hare, and new-come crane,
And 'counts them sweet rewards so ta'en. Who amongst these delights, would not forget
Love's cares so evil and so great ? But if, to boot with these, a chaste wife meet
For household aid, and children sweet; Such as the Sabines, or a sun-burnt blowse,
Some lusty quick Apulian's spouse, To deck the hallow'd hearth with old wood fired
Against the husband comes home tired ; That penning the glad flock in hurdles by,
Their swelling udders doth draw dry : And from the sweet tub wine of this year takes,
And unbought viands ready makes. Not Lucrine oysters I could then more prize,
Nor turbot, nor bright golden-eyes : If with bright floods, the winter troubled much,
Into our seas send any such : The Ionian godwit, nor the ginny-hen
Could not go down my belly then More sweet than olives, that new-gather'd be
From fattest branches of the tree : Or the herb sorrel, that loves meadows still,
Or mallows loosing bodies ill :
138 UNDERWOODS.
Vel agnafestis casa terminalibus :
Vel hadus ereptus lupo. Has Inter epulas, utjuvat pastas ores
Videre proper anteis domum I Videre fessos vomerem inversum bores
Collo trahenles languido ! Positosque vernas^ ditls examen domus,
Circum renidentes lares ! H<ec ubi locutus f Generator Alphius,
J am jam futurus rusticus, Omnem relegit idibus pecuniam ;
Qjiarit calendis ponere.
UNDERWOODS. 139
Or at the feast of bounds, the lamb then slain,
Or kid forc'd from the wolf again, Among these cates how glad the sight doth come
Of the fed flocks approaching home : To view the weary oxen draw, with bare
And fainting necks, the turned share ! The wealthy household swarm of bondmen met,
And 'bout the steaming chimney set ! These thoughts when usurer Alphius, now about
To turn mere farmer, had spoke out ; 'Gainst the ides, his moneys he gets in with pain,
At the calends puts all out again.
140 UNDERWOODS.
HORACE, ODE I. LIB, IV. AD VENEREM.
Inlermissa Venus diu,
Rursus bella moves : parce precoryprecor JVon sum qualis eram bon&
Sub regno Cynara : desine dulcium Mater sava Cupidinum,
Circa lustra decem fleeter e mollibus Jam durum imperils : abi
Qud blanda juvenum te revocant preces. Tempestivius in domo
Pauli purpureis ales oloribus, Comessabere Maximi,
Si torrere jecur quaris idoneum. Namque el nobilis, tt decensy
Et pro solicitis non tacitus reis. Et centum puer artium,
Late signajeret militia tua. Et quandoque potentior
Largi muneribus riserit amuli, Albanos prope te lacus
Ponet marmoream sub trabe cyprea. Illic plurima naribus
Duces tura, lyraque, et BerecynthiA Delectab're tibia
Mistis carminibus non sinejistula. Illic bis pueri die,
JVumen cum teneris virginibus tuum Laudantes^pede candido
In morem Salium ter quatient humum. Me necfamina nee puer
Jam, nee spes animi credula mutui.
UNDERWOODS. 141
ODE I. BOOK IV.
To VENUS.
Venus, again them mov'st a war
Long intermitted, pray thee, pray thee spare : I am not such, as in the reign
Of the good Cyriara I was: refrain Sour mother of sweet Loves, forbear
To bend a man now at his fiftieth year Too stubborn for commands so slack :
Go where youth's.soft entreaties call thee back. More timely hie thee to the house,
With thy bright swans, of Paulus Maximus : There jest and feast, make him thine host,
If a fit liver thou dost seek to toast; For he's both noble, lovely, young,
And for the troubled client fills his tongue : Child of a hundred arts, and far
Will he display the ensigns of thy war. And when he smiling finds his grace
With thee 'bove all his rivals' gifts take place, He'll thee a marble statue make
Beneath a sweet-wood roof near Alba lake, There shall thy dainty nostril take
In many a gum, and for thy soft ears' sake Shall verse be set to harp and lute,
And Phrygian hau'boy, not without the flute. There twice a day in sacred lays,
The youths and tender maids shall sing thy
praise : And in the Salian manner meet
Thrice 'bout thy altar with their ivory feet. Me now, nor wench, nor wanton boy,
Delights, nor credulous hope of mutual joy ;
142 UNDERWOODS.
Nee certare juval mero :
JVec vincire novis temporafloribus. Sed cur, heu ! Ligurine, cur
Manat rara meas lachryma per genas ? Cur Jacunda parum decor o
Inter verba cadit lingua silentio ? Nocturnis te ego somuiis
Jam captum teneo.jam volucrem sequor : Te per gramma Martii
Campi) te per aquas, dure, volubiles.
ODE IX. LIB. III. AD LYDIAM.
DlALOGUS HORATII ET
Hor. Donee grains eram tibi?
Nee quisquam potior brachia candidce
Cervicijuvenis dabat ; Ptrsarum vigui rege beatior.
Lyd. Donee non alia magis
Arsisti, nequ£ erat Lydia post Ckloen,
Mul'ti Lydia nominis Romana vigui clarior Ilia.
Hor. Me nunc Thressa Chloe regif,
Dulces docta modos, et cithara sciens :
Pro qua non metuam mori, Si pareent animafata super stiti>
* Donee grains^ &c.] This little piece has always been a fa- vourite. Granger, whose knowledge of our old writers did not extend much beyond their portraits, tells us that the first En- glish version of this Ode was made by Herrick. The Hesperides were not published till 1648, and to say nothing of the trans-
UNDERWOODS. 143
Nor care I now healths to propound,
Or with fresh flowers to girt my temple round. But why, oh why, my Ligurine,
Flow my thin tears down these pale cheeks of mine ? ^
Or why my well-grac'd words among,
With an uncomely silence fails my tongue? Hard-hearted, I dream every night
I hold thee fast ! but fled hence, with the light, Whether in Mars his field thou be,
Or Tyber's winding streams, I follow thee.
ODE IX. BOOK III. TO LYDIA. DIALOGUE OF HORACE AND LYDIA.
Hor. Whilst, Lydia, I was lov'd of thee,
And'bout thy ivory necknoyouth didfling
His arms more acceptably free, I thought me richer than the Persian king.
Lyd. Whilst Horace lov'd no mistress more, Nor after Chloe did his Lydia sound ;
In name, I went all names before, The Roman Ilia was not more renown'd.
Hor. 'Tis true, I'm Thracian Chloe's, I,
Who sings so sweet, and with such cunning
plays,
As, for her, Fid not fear to die, Sofate would gi veherlife, and longer days,
lation before us, a dozen, perhaps, had appeared before that pe- riod. I have one by Francis Davison as early as 1608, but nei- ther is this the first :— the matter however, is of no great moment.
J44 UNDERWOODS.
Lyd. Me tor ret face mutua
Thurini Calais filius Ornitki :
Pro quo his patiar mori, Si par cent puero fata super stiti.
Hor. Quid si prisca redit Venus,
Diductosfjue jugo cogit aheiuo ?
Si flava excutiiur Chtoe Rejectaque paletjanua Lydia?
Ljd. Quamauam sidere pulchrior
Hie est, tu levior cortice, et improbo
Iracundior Adr\ay Tecum vwere amem> tecum obeam libem*
UNDERWOODS.
14
Lyd. And I am mutually on fire
With gentle Calais, Thurine Ornith's son,
For whom I doubly would expire, So fate would let the boy a long thread run.
Hor* But say old love return should make, And us disjoined force to her brazen yoke ;
That I bright Chloe off should shake, And to left Lydia, now the gate stood ope?
Lyd. Though he be fairer than a star;
Thou lighter than the bark of any tree,
And than rough Adria angrier far; Yet would I wish to love, live, die with thee.
VOL. IX*
146 UNDERWOODS.
FRAGMENTUM PETRON. ARBITII.
Foeda est in coitu, et brevis voluptas,
Et tadet Generis statim peract*.
Non ergo ut petudes libidinosa,
Cceci protinus irruamus illuc :
Nam languescit amor peritque flamma,
Sed sic, sic, sine fine feriati,
Et tecum jaceamus osculantes :
Hie nullus labor est, ruborque nullus ;
Hoc juvit, jurat, et diujuvabit :
Hoc non dejicit, incipitque semper.
EPIGRAMMA MARTIALIS, Lib. viii, ep. 77.
Liber , antic or um dulcissima cur a tuorum, Liber in alerna vivere digne rosd;
Si sapis, Assyria semper tibi crinis amomo Splendeat, ei cingant florea serta caput :
Candida nigrescant vetulo crystalla Falerno, Et caleat blando mollis amore thorus- i sic> vel mzdiojinitus vixil in avo, Longior huic facia est, quam data vitafuit.
UNDERWOODS. 147
FRAGMENT OF PETRON. ARBITER TRANSLATED.
Doing, a filthy pleasure is, and short ;
And done, we straight repent us of the sport :
Let us not then rush blindly on unto it,
Like lustful beasts that only know to do it :
For lust will languish, and that heat decay.
But thus, thus, keeping endless holiday,
Let us together closely lie and kiss,
There is no labour, nor no shame in this ;
This hath pleas'd, doth please, and long will
please; never Can this decay, but is beginning ever.
EPIGRAM OF MARTIAL, viii. 77- TRANSLATED.
Liber, of all thy friends, thou sweetest care,3 Thou worthy in eternal flower to fare,
If thou be'st wise, with Syrian oil let shine Thy locks, and rosy garlands crown thy head ;
Dark thy clear glass with old Falernian wine, And heat with softest love thy softer bed.
He, that but living half his days, dies such,
Makes his life longer than 'twas given him, much.
* Liber, of all thy friends, &c.] This must be exempted from what in the Life of Dryden, are called the u jaw-breaking trans- lations of Ben Jonson." It is, in fact, the most beautiful of all the versions of this elegant poem. Though it numbers only line for line with the original, it clearly and fully expresses the vhole of its meaning, and is besides, spirited and graceful in a high degree. It unfortunately escaped the researches of Htird,
S Y L V A.
Reruni, et sententiarum^ quasi"TChy dicta a multiplici materiel^ et varietate^ in Us contenta. Quemadmodum enim vulgd solemus infinitam arborum nascentium in- discriminatim multitudinem Sylvam dicer* : itti etiam libros suos in quibus varia et diverse mdteria opuscula temere congesta erant, Sylras appcllabant 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.
PERS. Sat. 4.
DISCOVERIES.] From the fol. 1641. These are among " the last drops of Jonson's quill." A few occasional remarks of an early date may, perhaps, be found here; but there is internal evidence that the greater number of them were made subse- quently to 1 630, when he was prest by extremities^ and struggling with want and disease/or breath.
Those who derive all their knowledge of Jonson from the commentators on Shakspeare, will not (if they should conde- scend to open these pages,) be unprofitably employed in com- paring the manly tone, the strong sense, the solid judgment, the extensive learning, the compressed yet pure and classical diction of the declining poet, with the dull, cold, jejune, pompous and parasitical pedantry of Kurd and others, whom they have been called on to admire, principally, as it should seem, for the supercilious and captious nature of their criticisms on his labours.
E X P L O R ATA
Oil
DISCOVERIES.
Fortuna. — 111 fortune never crush'd 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 ac- counts it, and will make it.
Casus. — Change into extremity is very fre- quent, 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
1 52 DISCOVERIES.
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,* 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 them- selves. Besides, the man that is once hated, both his good, and his evil deeds oppress him. He is not easily emergent.
Negotia.—ln great affairs it is a work of diffi- culty to please all. And oft-times we lose the occasion of carrying a business well, and tho- roughly, by our too much haste. For passions are spiritual rebels, and raise sedition against the understanding.
Amor P atria. — 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 with much more willingness, than those we see ; because we envy the present, and reverence the past ; thinking ourselves instructed by the one, and over- laid by the other.
DISCOVERIES. 153
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 vita* — What a deal of cold business doth a man mispend the better part of life in ! in scattering compliments, tendering visits, ga- thering and venting news, following feasts and plays, making a little winter-love in a dark corner.
Hypocrita — Puritanus hypocrita est harcticus, quern opinio propria perspicacia, qua sibi videtur, cum panels in ecclesid dogmatibus, errores quosdam ani- madvertisse, de statu mentis deturbavit : unde sacro furore percitus, phrtnetice pugnat contra magistra- tus, sic ratus obedientiam prastare Deo.
Mutua auxilia. — Learning needs rest : sove- reignty 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
154 DISCOVERIES.
part of his liberality, his favour : and from whom doth he hear discipline more willingly, or the arts discours'd 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 an 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 espe- cially 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 ar- guments.
Consiliarii adjunct. Probitas, Sapient la. — 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 ut- tered 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. — Humamtas* — Solicitudo. — Next a good life, to beget love in the persons we coun- sel, by dissembling our knowledge of ability in
DISCOVERIES. 155
ourselves, andavoiding all suspicion of arrogance, ascribing all to their instruction, as an ambas- sador to his master, or a subject to his sovereign ; seasoning all with humanity and sweetness, only expressing care and solicitude. And not to coun- sel rashly, or on the sudden, but with advice and meditation : (Dat nox consilium .) Formany foolish things fall from wise men, if they speak in haste, or be extemporal. It therefore behoves the giver of counsel to be circumspect ; espe- cially 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.
Modes tia. — 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, 6 rev, ut tu mdius hac scias, quhm ego.*
Perspicuitas. — E leg an tia. — 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 brakey seats, where they lay hid, and overgrown with thorns, to a
b Plutarch in vita Alex.
156 DISCOVERIES.
pure, open, and flowery light ; where they may take the eye, and be taken by the hand.
Natura non effceta. — 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 judg- ing and pronouncing against them be away; such as are envy, bitterness, precipitation, im- pudence, and scurril scoffing. For to all the ob- servations of the ancients, we have our own ex- perience ; 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 ducesfulre. Truth lies open to all ; it is no man's several. Patet omnibus ve- ritas ; nondum est occupata. Multum ex Hid, etiam futuris relicta est.
Dissentire licet , sed cum ratione. — If in some things I dissent from others, whose wit, industry, diligence, and judgment I look up at, and ad- mire; 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 in- quiry was to envy their posterity, what they also could add, and find out.
DISCOVERIES. 157
Non mihi credendumsedveritatL — If I err, pardon me : Nulla ars simul et invent a est, et absolute 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 any thing 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.
Scientitz liberates. — 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. They are men, I confess, that see the caract, 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.
Honest a ambit io.~— If divers men seek fame or honour by divers ways ; so both be honest, neither is to be blamed: but they that seek
158 DISCOVERIES.
immortality, are not only worthy of love, but of praise.
Marit-us improbus. — He hath a delicate wife, a fair fortune, and family to go to be welcome; yet he had rather be drunk with mine host, and the fiddlers of such a town, than go home.
Afflictio pia magistru.. — Affliction teacheth a wicked person some time to pray: prosperity never.
Deploratis Jacilis des census Averni* — The devil take alL — Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they would ven- ture their industry the right way : but the devil take all (quoth he) that was choak'd 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 c that had a longing at the gallows to commit one robbery more, before he was hanged.
c With a great belly.
DISCOVERIES. 159
And like the German lord,d when he went out of Newgate into the cart, took order to have his arms set up in his last herborough : said he was taken, and committed upon suspicion of treason ; no witness appearing against him ; but the judges entertained him most civilly, dis- coursed with him, offered him the courtesy of the rack ; but he confessed, &c.
Caluvnnia 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.
Imper linens. — A tedious person is one a man would leap a steeple from, gallop down any steep hill 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 spake to him of garlic, he answered asparagus : consulted him of marriage, he tells me of hang- ing, as if they went by one and the same destiny.
Bellum Scribentiwn. — What a sight it is to see writers committed together by the ears for ce- remonies, syllables, points, colons, commas, hy- phens, 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
d Comes de Schertenhein.
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digging in these quarries. Sed meliore fin omne) ingenio, animoque quam for tuna, sum usus.
Pingue solum lassat ; sed jurat ipse labor.
Differentia inter Dodos el Sciolos. — Wits made out their several expeditions then, for the dis- covery 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 any thing 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 Jucus. — 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
Icunculorummotio. — A puppet-play must be sha- dowed, and seen in the dark: for draw the cur- tain, Et sordct gesticulatio.
Principes, et Administri. — There is a great dif- ference 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 acre 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 esl in unoquoque hominum ; animali ad mutationem bromptissimo.
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Scil urn Hisp'rtiicum. — It is a quick saying with the Spaniards, A)tes inter literedes non dividi. Yet these have inherited their father's lying, and they hrag 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 horn 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 relicla 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 fn me that I know that, which others had not yet known, but from me? or that 1 am the author of many things, which never would have come in thy thought, but that I taught them ? It is a 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.
Nilgratius protervo lib. — Indeed nothing is of more credit or request now, than a petulant paper, or scoffing verses; and it is but conve- nient 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 liter cs sordent. — Pastus hodiern* Ingen. — The VOL. ix. M
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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 wifes. 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 misinter- preted, the clearest actions obscured, the inno- centest life traduced : and in such a license 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 dpat and talk idly : would she had but doated still ! but her dotage is now broke forth into a mad- ness, and become a mere frenzy.
Alastoris malitia.* — This Alastor, who hath Left nothing unsearched, or unassailed, by his impu-
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dent 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 of; 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 fucre. — 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 shew deformed and odious, the suiting of it might draw their readers. Some love any strumpet (be she never so shop-like or mere- tricious) in good clothes. But these, nature could not have formed them better, to destroy their own testimony, and overthrow their ca- lumny.
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 prin- cipal 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,
M St
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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 he retarded hy the guard and watch of our heart, but he 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 Bethlem like, as a vain sound of chosen and excellent words, without any sub- ject of sentence or science mixed ?
Optanda. — Thersites Homeri. — Whom the dis- ease 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.
'AperposTryg, d^iro^oq ; speaking without judgment or measure.
Loquax magis, qudmfacundus^ Softs loquenti&y sapientice parum*
rot Syravos ev
Salust. c Hesiodus.
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Optimus est homini lingua thesaurus > et ingens Gratia, qua parcis mensural singula verbis.
Homeri Ulysses. — DemacatusPlutarchi. — Ulysses in Homer, is made a long-thinking man, before be 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.1 For too much talking is ever the iu- dice of a fool,
Dum tacet indoclus, polerit cordatus haberi; Is morbos animi namque lacendo tegit.*
Nor is that worthy speech of Zeno the philo- sopher to be past over, with the note of igno- rance ; who being invited to a feast in Athens, where a great prince's ambassadors were enter- tained, 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 bespoke: but having spoken, not the beadle of the ward.
f Vid, Zeuxidis pict. Serm. ad Mcgabizum. * Plutarch.
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/o$. Pyihag. quam laudabilis ! aXXuv Kpdrei, §tofy B7ropev&>. Lhiguam cohibe, pra aiiis omnibus, ad Devrum exemplum.h Digit o compfsce labellum.1
Acutius cernuntur villa 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 that 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 ;k and it ap- pears not in any thing more than in that nation, whereof one, when he had got the inheritance of an unlucky old grange, would needs sell it;1 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 meazles, the cattle of the mur- rain, 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 ealamitatis^ Was not this man like to sell it?
Vulgi expeclatio. — Expectation of the vulgar is more drawn and held with newness than good- ness; we see it in fencers, in players, in poets, in preachers, in all where fame prorniseth any thing ; 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
h Vide Apuleium. ! Juvenal. k Plautus.
1 Trin. Act. 2, Seen. 4. m Mart. lib. 1. ep. 85.
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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 patria, — 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 be- tween mooting and pleading; between fencing and fighting. To make arguments in my study, and confute them, is easy ; where I answer my- self, 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
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hatred have almost the same ends : many foolish lovers wish the same to their friends, which their enemies would : as to wish a friend ba- nished, that they might accompany him in exile; or some great \vant, 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 courte- sies : they only suffer them not to appear fair. For a man that doth me an injury after a cour- tesy, takes not away that courtesy, hut defaces it : as he that writes other verses upon my ver- ses, 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 he 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, ano- ther whipped out of a fever : but no man would ever use these for medicines. It is the mind, and not the event, that distinguished! 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 me as a
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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 drest 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 school- masters. 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 ali the powers of the mind, is the most delicate, and frail : it i* the first of our faculties that age invades. Seneca, the father, the rhetorician, confe*seth 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 conti- nued till I was past forty : since, it is much de- cayed 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 1 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
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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 won- der in such as have a swift style, for their me- mories 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.
Gomil. 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 hint : insomuch that we care not to discredit and shame our judgments, to sooth our passions.
Deus in crealuris. — Man is read in his face ; God in his creatures ; but not as the philosopher,
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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 wicked- ness.
Veritas proprium homitris.* — Truth is man's proper good ; arid the only immortal thing was given to our mortality to use. No good Christian or ethnic, if he be honest, can miss it: no states- man 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. As Euripides saith, " No lie ever grows old."
Nullumvitium sine pat rocinio. — 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 mad^ 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 ?
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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 corps by torch light ; \* ould not sin the common way, but held that a kind of rus- ticity ; they would do it new, or contrary, for the infamy ; they were ambitious of living hack- ward ; and at last arrived at that, as they would love nothing but the vices, not the vicious cus- toms. It was impossible to reform these natures ; they were dried and hardened in their ill. They may say they desired to leave it; hut do no*t 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 bate 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 every where witty ; than which nothing is more foolish. If an eye or a nose be an excellent part in the face, therefore be all tye or nose! I think the eye-brow, the forehead, the cheek, chin, lip, or any part else, are as nectssaiy, and natural in the place. But now nothing is good that is natural : ri^ht and natural language seems to have least of the wit in it; that which is writhed and tortured, is counted the more ex- quisite. Cloth of boclkin or tissue must be em- broidered ; as if no face were fair that were not
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powdered or painted ? no beauty to be had, but in wresting and writhing our own tongue ? No- thing 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 poelis. — 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 wholsome 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 clone 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 dipt in ink will do all :
Comitetur Punica librum
Spongia.
Et pau!6 post,
Non possunt . .
, multa .... Itiurce una lilura 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 opi- nion grows strong against the best men ; if once
n Mart. 1. iv. epig. 10.
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it take root with the ignorant. Cestius, in his time, was preferred to Cicero, so far as the ig- norant 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 despight of the players : Heath's epigrams, and the Skuller'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 dicuntj sed hi corrup- tiusjudicant. 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 judg- ments, and like that which is naught.
Poetry, in this latter age, hath proved but a mean mistress to such as nave 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, withoutherfavour. 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
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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 scat- tered 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 Shahspeare nosfrat. — 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, as Au- gustus 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, " Csesar thou
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dost me wrong." He replied, " Caesar did never wron^' 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 dis- cern 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 incre- dible, 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 na- ture 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 shainefastness. These never perform much, but quickly. They are what they are, on the sudden ; they shew 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 : ° they stand still at sixteen, they get no higher.
0 A Wit-stand.
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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 : Qua per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt.* 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 re- prehended, 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 oft-times the faults which he fell into, the others seek for : this is the danger, when vice becomes a precedent.
. 5. — Others there are that have no compo- sition 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 t nor scarce stream.
You may sound these wits, and find the depth
P Martial, lib. 11. epig. 91. VOL. IX. N
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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 Mon- taigne. 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 them- selves furnished, and would vent it.
Not. 7. — Some again (who after they have got authority, or, which is less, opinion, by their writ- ings, to have read much) dare presently to feign whole books and authors, and lye 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 com- pelling them to read for present use, whicrji 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.
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Not. 9. — But the wretcheder are the obstinate contemners of all helps and arts ; such as presum- ingon their own naturals (which perhaps are excel- lentjdarederideall diligence, and seem to mockat 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; un- examined, 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 rent 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 dis- cerned 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
N2
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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 Tamer- lanes, and Tamer-chams 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 mean time, 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 bis 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 shew 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 anima. — 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 per- nicious evil, the darkener of man's life, the
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disturber of his reason, and common confounder of truth ; with which a man goes groping in the dark, no otherwise than if he were hlind. 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 or- gans the soul works : she is a perpetual agent, prompt and subtle; but often flexible, and erring, intangling herself like a silk- worm : 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 cloth truths.
Olium. —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
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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 shew 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 eminenlia. — 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, ano- ther rurrwell, 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.—Iha.vG known many ex- cellent men, that would speak suddenly, to the admiration of their hearers ; who upon study and premeditation have been forsaken by their
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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 botii for them and their auditory, that they were so sur- prised, 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 ex- cellent, 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 cdnsisted of his own graces. His hearers could not cough, or look aside from him, without loss. He com- manded where he spoke ; and had his judges
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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.
Scriplorum Catalogus.* — 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 Moore, 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 Nicholas 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 con- temned, 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 pre- ferred either to insolent Greece, or haughty Rome. In short, within his view, and about his times, were all the wits born, that could honour
<*
* Sir Thomas Moore. Sir Thomas Wiat. Henry, earl of Surrey. Sir Thomas Chaloner. Sir Thomas Smith. Sir Thomas Eliot. Bishop Gardiner. Sir Nicholas 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.
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a language, or help study. Now things daily fall, wits grow downward, and eloquence grows hack- ward : so that he may be narned, and stand as the mark and a»pj of our language.
De Augmentis Scuniiarum. — Julius Casar.* — 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 wor- thier the study of a statesman, than that part of the republic which we call the advancement of letters. Witness the care of Julius Cassar, who in the heat of tjie civil war writ his books of Analogy, and dedicated them to Tally. 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 what- soever, and is a book
Qiti longum noto scriplori proroget avumJ
My conceit of his person was never in- creased toward -him by his place, or honours: but I have and do reverence him, for the great- ness 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. Nei- ther could I condoje in a word or syllable for
1 Horat. de Art. Poetica.
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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. Itimitates the public riot. The excess of feasts and apparel are the notes of a sick state ; and the wanton- ness 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 mdre 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
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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 fal- leth 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 sus- tains 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.-—Rz is the arbiter of life and death : when he finds no other sub- ject 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 accumu- lation 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.
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De Princ. adjunctis. — Sed veri prudens hand con* dpi possit Princeps, nisi — simul et bonus. — Lycur- gus. — Sylla. — Lysander. — Cyrus. — Wise, is ra- ther 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 him- self, inforced 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 delibe- rations he forsees 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 ; shewing 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 : Habcnt venenum provictu; imo, pro deliciis. And such are they that only relish the obscene and foul things in poets ; which makes the profession taxed. But by whom r Men that watch for it ; and (had they not had this hint) are so unjust valuers of letters, as they think no learning go«d but what brings in gain. It shews they them- selves 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
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men, than they threaten and compel, and have no reward ; is it therefore the worse 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 excel- lent 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 coun- sellors never durst. For such had rather do, than promise the best things.
Contr -overs. Scriptores. — More Andabatarum qui clausis oculis pugnant. — Some controverters in di- vinity are like swaggerers in a tavern, that catch that which stands next them, the candlestick, or pots ; turn every thing into a weapon : oft- times 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 fig lit 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
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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 ad- vantage of the boasting, and lessen it.
Adulatio. — I have seen that poverty makes men 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 di- stilling 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,
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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 humand. — I have considered our whole life is like a play : wherein every man forgetful of himself, is in travail with expression of ano- ther. Nay, we so insist in imitating others, as we cannot (when it is necessary) return to our- selves ; 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 Pits et Probis. — Good men are the stars, the planets of the ages wherein they live, and illus- trate 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 practicers 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 AulicL — 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
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provides bait for the trout, roach, dace, &c. that they may he food to him.
Impiorum querela — Augustus. — Varus. — Tibe- rius.— The complaint of Caligula was most wicked of the condition of his times, when he said, They were not famous for any public cala- mity, 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; \vhilst 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,
JVobilium 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 th?n their prince's profit. Such let the prince take beed of, and not doubt to reckon in the list of his open enemies.
Principum varia. — Firmissima verd omnium basis jus hareditariumPrincipis. — There is a great variation between him that is raised to the sovereignty
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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 the 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 administration (for that is his art) he shall ever make and hold them faithful,
Clementia. — Machiwvell. — A prince should ex- ercisehis cruelty not by himself, but by his mini- sters ; 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, t The state of things is se- cured by clemency ; severity represseth a few, but irritates more.d The lopping of trees makes
* Hand injima ars in principc, ubi knitas^ ubi severitas—plfa polleat in commune bonum caller t. VOL. IX. O
IK
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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 gave him other counsels, are but the hangman's factors,
Clementia tutela optima. — He that is cruet to halves (saith the said St. Nicholas*) 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 hate- ful 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.
* i, e. Machiarell.
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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 necessa- rily : and they are two strong ties upon mankind. Justice is 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 some- times misfortune is made a crime, and then inno- cence is succoured no less than virtue. Nay, often-times 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 Ter- minus, of stone, his own landmark ; or (as it is in the fable) a crowned lion. It is dangerous of- fending such a one ; who being angry, knows not how to forgive : that cares not to do any thing 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 iheir spoil and license. But princes that neglect their proper office thus, their fortune is
02
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often- times to draw a Sejanus to be near about them, who will 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 license 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 mi- serable 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 argu- ment, that the good counsellors to princes are the best instruments of a good age. For though the prince himself be of a most prompt incli- nation 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
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principalities than princes : for a prince is the pastor of the people. He ought to sheer, not to flay his sheep ; to take their fleeces, not their fells. Who were his enemies before, being a private man, become his children now he is public. He is 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 ityieldeth butter; but wring the nose, and the blood followed!. He is an ill prince that so pulls his subjects' fea- thers, 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 slaugh- ters : neither to seek war in peace, nor peace in war ; but to observe faith given, though to an enemy. Study piety toward the subject ; shew 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 nor 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, acknow- ledge 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
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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 reli- gion is to be expected? which are the only two attributes make kings a-kin 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.
Diintes. — Hcredes ex asse. — He which is sole heir to many rich men, having (beside his fa- ther's and uncle's) the estates of divers his kin- dred 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 me'at:
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Dal veniam corvis. vexat censura columbasS JVon rete accipitri tenditur, neque milvio.*
ZezwXI. — But they arenotalways 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 the Eleventh, 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, 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 mails. — De innocent ia. — A good man will avoid the spot of any sin. The very asper- sion 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 * Juvenalis. f Plautus.
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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 in- gineers feared to be the authors. Nor were they content to feign things against me, but to urge things feigned by the ignorant against my pro- fession ; 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 excel- lent 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 in tire, 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 com- monweals, built cities, invented arts, made
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wholsome laws, armed men against vices, re- warded them with their own virtues, and pre- served the honour and state of nations, till they betrayed themselves to riches.
Amor nummi. — Money never made any man rich, hut his inind. He that can order himself to the law of nature, is not only without the sense, hut 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 of- fered 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 premu- nire, 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, tis- sues, embroideries, laces he could lack ; and
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then hoAV 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 shew, 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 shewn, 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 ejfceminatis. — 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
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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 splendor 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 stultitid. — 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, whis- tles, hobby-horses, and such like ; we with sta- tues, 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 possest 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 con-
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dition 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.
Pcriculosa melancholia. — It is a dangerous thing when men's minds come to sojourn with their affections, arid their diseases eat into their strength : that when too much desire and gree- diness of vice hath made the body unfit, or un- profitable, 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, inbeholdingothers sin ; as in dining, drinking, drabbing, Sec. Nay, when it cannot do all these, it is offended with his own narrowness, that excludes it from the universal delights of mankind; and often-times dies of a melancholy, that it cannot be vicious enough.
Falsa species fugienda. — 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 prentice, 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
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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 sort 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 the less confident : among strangers we trust fortune. Yet a man may live as renowned at home, in his own coun- try, or a private village, as in the whole world. For it is virtue that gives glory; that will en- denizen a man every where. It is only that can naturalize him. A native, if he be vicious, de*- serves to be a stranger, and cast out of the com- monwealth as an alien.
Dejectio Aulic. — A dejected countenance, and mean clothes, beget often a contempt, but it is with the shallowest creatures ; courtiers com- monly : 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, etpictura. — 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
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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 plea- sure 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 an- cient, 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 au- thority. 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
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humble ; as Pliny pronounced of Regulus's writ- ings. 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 pr ogres. Picture?* — Picture took her feign- ing from poetry ; from geometry her rule, com- pass, Hues, proportion, and the whole symmetry. Parrhasius was the first won reputation, by ad- ding 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 splendor 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, Sec. So from thence it took shadows, re- cessor, light, and heightnings. From moral phi- losophy it took the soul, the expression of senses, perturbations, manners, when they would paint an angry person, a proud, an inconstant, an am- bitious, a brave, a magnanimous, a just, a mer- ciful, 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 Chimeeras,b by the
• Parrhasius. Eupompus. Socrates. Parrhasius. Clito. Poly- gnotus. Aglaopbon Zeuxis. Parrhasius. Raphael de Urbino. Mien. Augelo Buonarota. Titian. Antony de Correg. Sebast. de Vciiet. Julio Romano. Andrea Sartorio.
b Pirn. lib. 35. c. 2. 5, 6, and 7. Vitru?. lib. 8, and 7.
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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.c The art plastic was moulding in clay, or potters earth anciently. This is the parent of statuary, sculp- ture, 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 law-giver to all painters ; after, Parrhasius. They were contem- poraries, 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 Buonarota, Titian, Antony of Correggio, Sebastian of Ve- nice, 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, whiiethey enquire, and reprehend, and compound, and delate busi- ness of the house they have nothing to do with : they praise my lord's wine, and the sauce he
c Herat, in arte poet.
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likes; observe the cook and bottle-man, while they stand in my lord's favour, speak for a pen- sion 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 un- derstand it, to avoid absurdity : for it is less dis- honour to hear imperfectly, than to speak im- perfectly. The ears are excused, the understand- ing is not. And in things unknown to a man, not to give his opinion, lest by the affectation of knowing too much, he lose tne credit he hath by speaking of knowing the wrong way, what he utters. Nor seek to get his patron's favour, by embarking himself in the factions of the fa- mily: to enquire 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 often-times report the lies they have feigned, for what they have seen and heard.
Imd 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 enquire who eats and drinks together, what that man plays, whom this man loves, with whom such a one walks, what discourse they held, who sleeps with whom. They are base and servile natures, that busy themselves about these disquisitions. How often
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have I seen (and worthily) these censors of the family undertaken by some honest rustic, and cudgelled thriftily ? These are commonly the off-scowering 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 great 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 stu- dies. 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 be- ginnings from milk and the cradle ; and the wisest tarried sometimes about apting their mouths to letters and syllabes. In their educa- tion, therefore, the care must be the greater had of their beginnings, to know, examine, and weigh their natures ; which though they be pronex 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 re- freshing in studies, and inf'useth 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
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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, intreated 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 school- master) than amongst a thousand boys, however immodest. Would we did not spoil our own chil- dren, and overthrow their manners ourselves by too much indulgence! To breed them at home, is to breed them in a shade ; where 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 commonwealth, 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 shouldbe daily increased by praise; and that kindled by emulation. It ia 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
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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 necessa- ries : 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 arid 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,
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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 shewed itself to them more plentifully; their words answered, their composition followed ; and all, as in a well-or- dered 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 oft-times 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
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another man fitly : and though a man be more prone, and ahle for one kind of writing than another, yet lie must exercise all. For as in an instrument, so in style, there must be a harmony and consent of parts.
Prcecipiendi modi — I take this labour in teach- ing others, that they should not be always to be tauoht 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 shew the right way to those that come after, than to detect any that have slipt 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 con- trary 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 na- ture be beneficial and aiding. And therefore these things are no more written to a dull dispo- sition, 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 pro- ceeds 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
et, if he continue in, I cannot but justly hate lim for the same. There is a time to be given
z
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all things for maturity, and that even your country husbandman 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 tinctthe 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 afunnell, 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.4 As Livy before Sallust, Sidney before Donne : and beware of letting them taste Govver, 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 judg- ments 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
d Livy. Sallust. Sidney. Donne. Gower. Chaucer. Spenser. Virgil. Ennius. Homer. Quintilian. Plautus. Terence.
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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 tincted 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 ob- served 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 forc- ing in of jests.
Fals. querd. 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 wea- riness 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 n.ay be learned together, and performed in one point of time ; as musicians exercise their
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memory, their voice, their fingers, and some- times their head and feet at once. And so a preacher, in the invention of matter, election of words, composition of gesture, look, pronunci- ation motion, useth all these faculties at once : and if we can express this variety together, why should not divers studies, at divers hours, de- light, when the variety is able alone to refresh and repair us ? As when a man is weary of wri- ting, 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 marie, lime, and com- post r 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.
Prcecept. 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 gram- marians, is able to break a wit in pieces, being a work of manifold misery and vainness, to be ekmentarii 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 observa- tion, knowledge, and the use of things, many writers perplex their readers and hearers with
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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 ig- norant 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 any thing becomes a habit quickly. If a man should pro- secute as much as could be said of every thing, his work would find no end.
De orationis dignitate. — EvxwtAoTzWaa. — Meta- phora. — 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 Dcorum hominumque inter- pres. 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 E»/xuxAo7rtti(taai<. Words are the people's, yet there is a choice of them to be made. For Verborum delectus origo est eloquentice.* They are to be chose 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 sheep-cote, some of the pulpit, some of the bar, &c. And herein is seen their elegance and
6 Julius Caesar. Of words, see Hor. de Art. Poet. Quintil. 1. 8. Ludov. Viyes? p. 6 and 7«
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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 trans- lation we must only serve necessity (Nam te- merk nihil transfertiir d prudenti), 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-fet, hinder to be understood ; and affected, lose their grace. Or when the per- son fetcheth his translations from a wrong place. As if a privy-counsellor 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 boulin. Metaphors are thus many times deformed, as in him that said, Castratam morte Africani rempublicam. And another, Stercus curicz Glauciam. And Cand nvvt 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 mo- derate ; 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.
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Consuetudo. — Perspicuitas, Venustas. — Authori- tas.— VirgiL — Lucretius. — Chaucerism. — Parono- masia,— 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 some- times. 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 I 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 strow 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 Parono- masies ; nor use too swelling or ill-sounding
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words ; Quce per salebras, altaque saxa cadunt. 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 begin- ning ; for through the midst the stream bears us. And this is attained by custom more than care or 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 con- tract 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 en- deavour, by his help, yea, when he is absent, nay, when he is dead, by his example and me- mory. 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. — Tacitus^. — The Laconic. — Suetonius. — Seneca, andFabianus, — The brief style is that which expresseth much in little. The concise style, which expresseth not enough, but leaves some- what 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 ojfundit tenebras. — Super* latio. — 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
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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. Rectitude lucem adfcrt ; obliqidtas et clrcumductio offmcat. We should therefore speak what we can the rfearest 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, qudd terras rt+ linquas ;
But propitiously from Virgil:
Credas innare revulsas
Cycladas.
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
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hyperboles which will become one language, that will by no means admit another. As Eos esse P. R. exercitus, qui cesium possint perrumpere,1 who would say with us, but a madman? There- fore we must consider in every tongue what is used, what received. Quintilian warns us, that in no kind of translation, or metaphor, or alle- gory, 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 almost foul inconsequence. Neither must we draw out our allegory too long, lest either we make ourselves obscure, or fall into affecta- tion, which is childish. But why do men depart at all from the right and natural ways of speak- ing ? 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 obscene- ness, or sometimes for pleasure, and variety, as travellers turn out of the highway, drawn either by the commodity of a foot-path, or the delicacy or freshness of the fields. And all this is called ^ or figured language.
Oratio imago animi. — Language most shews 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 ef statura, sublimis, humilis, pumila* — Some men are tall and big, so some language is
{ Caesar, Comment, circa fin.
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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-torned, composed, elegant, and accurate.
Vitiosa oratio, 'vast a — tumens — enormis — af- fect ata — 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 accord- ing to their subject these styles vary, and Jose 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 counsellor of state in a flat cap, with his trunk hose, and a hobby-horse cloak, his gloves under his girdle, and yoncl haber- dasher 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 tire 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 every where answerable, and weighed.
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Cutis sive cortex. Compositio. — The third is the skin and coat, which rests in the well-joining, cementing, and coagmentation of words ; when as 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 hor- rid, rough, wrinkled, gaping, or chapt : 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 ora- tionis, 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 bend pasta. But where there is redundancy, both the blood and juice are faulty and vicious: Redundat sanguine, quid mult b plus dicit, quam necesse est. Juice in language is some- what 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 shews like stones in a sack.
Jejuna, maciknta, 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,
Notce domini Sti. Albani de doctrin. intemper. — Dictator. — Aristo teles. — It was well noted by the
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late lord St. Alban, 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 credu- lity. 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 clone Aristotle. The damage is infinite knowledge re- ceives 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, min- gle no matter of doubtful credit with the sim- plicity of trutl^ but gently stir the mould about the root of the question, and avoid all digladia- tions, facility of credit, or superstitious simpli- city, 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 illustra-
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tion 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 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 pic- tures 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, Dlcere recte nemo potest, nisi qui prudent er intelligit. The shame of speaking unskilfully were small, if the tongue only thereby were dis- graced ; 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 dis- honour to a mighty prince, to have the majesty of his embassage spoiled by a careless ambassa- dor ? and is it not as great an indignity, that an excellent conceit and capacity, by the indiligence
Q 2
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of an idle tongue, should be disgraced ? Negli- gent speech doth not only discredit the person of the speaker, hut it discreditelh 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 exa- mination of his eyes, yield you no life or sharp- ness 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 con- jecture 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 busi- " ness 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 possest in your ser- " vant, and upon your next opportunity make 11 him happy with some commands from your" 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
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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 be- lief of all that is past in his understanding whom you write to. For the consequence of sentences, you must be sure that every clause do give the Q. 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) ex- cept 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 pas- sages 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 cense' 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
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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 com- manded 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 rio- tous and wastingly. Brevity is attained in matter, by avoiding idle compliments, prefaces, protes- tations, 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 comet h to pass] and such like idle particles, that have no great busi- ness in a serious letter but breaking of sentences, as oftentimes a short journey is made long by unnecessary 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 ad- mitted. 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 ap- peacherl of it ; I accuse him not.
2. Perspicuitas.^-Tlie nextproperty of epistolary style is perspicuity, and is oftentimes by affec- tation 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
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much light hurteth the eyes, as too little; and a long hill of chancery confounds the under- standing, as much as the shortest note ; therefore let not your letters be penn'd like English sta- tutes, and this is obtained. These vices are es- chewed 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 judg- ment of your own outward senses, as to the cen- sure 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 talka- tive 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 reason- ably 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 in* terrogatories. 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, some- times you may call it choice, sometimes plenty, sometimes copiousness, or variety; but ever so, that the word which conies in lieu, have
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not such difference of meaning, as that it may put the sense of the first in hazard to be mista- ken. You are not to cast a ring for the perfumed terms of the time, as accommodation, comple- ment, 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 oratorc.
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 judg- ment, which, as one truly saith, is gotten by four means, God, nature, diligence and conver- sation. 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 elo- quence, 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 dim!- nution of credit, by lessening the professors' es- timation, 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
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(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. Hie- rome come into their mind, Ubi generalis est de mtiis disputatio, ibi nullhis esse persona injurlam f 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 teyeras mordaci rodere vero
Remedii votum semper verius erat, quhm spes* — Sexus fcemin. — If men may by no means write freely, or speak truth, but when itoffends not; why do physicians cure with sharp medicines, or cor- rosives? 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 any thing 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 any thing 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 •
* Per. Sat. 1. h Livius.
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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 any thing 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 wi'h himself; and so to declare that pro- perly 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 dis- please, 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 xar' tfyxpv, o Hom-ruf, a maker, or a feigner : his art, an art of imitation or feigning ; express- ing the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony, according to Aristotle: from the word ormiy, which signifies to make, or feign. Hence he is called a poet, not he which writeth in mea- sure only, but that feignethand 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 ?
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Poema. — A poem is not alone any work, or composition of the poet's in many or few verses; but even one alone verse sometimes makes a perfect poem. As when ./Eneas hangs up and con- secrates the arms of Abas with this inscription :
JEneas h&c de Danais victoribus armaj
And calls it a poem, or carmen. Such are those in Martial :
Omnia, Castor, emis : sic fat, ut omnia vendas* And,
Pauper videri Cinna vult, et est pauper.
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.
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 Epigram- matic poem,
But how differs a Poem from what we call Poesy ?
Poesis — A rtium rcgina. — Poet, differ en tice. — > 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.
1 Virg. Mn. lib. 3. k Martial, lib. 8. epig. 19.
236 DISCOVERIES.
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 tloing, 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, enter- tains 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 con- trary, styled poesy a dulcet and gentle philo- sophy, which leads on and guides us by the hand to action> with a ravishing delight, and incre- dible 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
DISCOVERIES. 2Sr
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 Se- neca saith, Aliquando secundum Anacreontem in- sanire 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 mivturd dement ice fuit* Nee potest grande aliquid, et supra cceteros loqui, nisi mot a 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 Par- nassus ; and this made Ovid to boast:
Est deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo : Sedibus cethereis spirit us itte venit.
Lipsius. — Petron in Fragm. — And Lipsius to affi rm : Scio, poetam neminem pr&stantem fuisse, sine parte quadam uberiore divina aura. 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
238 DISCOVERIES.
this perfection of nature in our poet, we require exercise of those parts, and frequent.
Q. E,rercifatio. — VirgiL — Scaliger. — Valer. Maximus. — Euripides. — Alcestis. — If his wit will not arrive suddenly at the dignity of the an- cients, 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 come 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 serise 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 re- duced 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 an 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
DISCOVERIES. 239
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. — Stalius. — Homer. — Horat. — Archil. — Alcaus, fyc. — The third requisite in our poet, or maker, is imita- tion, 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 prin- cipal. 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; howAlcaeus, and the other lyrics ; and so of the rest.
4. Lectio. — Parnassus. — Helicon. — Ars coron. — M. T. Cicero. — Simylus. — Stob. — Horat. — Aris- tot. — 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 shew 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
240 DISCOVERIES.
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 per- fect. 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 na- ture, there happen an accession or conformation of learning and discipline, there will then remain somewhat noble and singular. For, as Simylus saith in Stobasus, CHm <pu<n? motv-n ywiTKi T£%W arff? cure voiv rtyv* P1 0u<ni; *£*TtijU£v»j' 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 aifect 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 any thing, he must ever ac- count his masters, and reverence : among whom Horace, and (he that taught him) Aristotle, de- served 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 perfec- tions 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
DISCOVERIES. 341
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 de- claim er'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. — Ncevius. — 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 or- nament, and above him in his strengths. And (of the kind) the comic comes nearest ; because in moving the minds of men, and stirring of af- fections (in which oratory shews, 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 essetflere, Fltrent diva Cavwente Ncevium Poetam ; Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro, Ob lit i sunt Roma lingua loqui Latino, .
L> JElius Stilo.—Plautus. — M. Varro.—Qi that modester testimony given by Lucius ^Elius Stilo upon Plautus, who affirmed, Musas, si latinl loqui voluissent, Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas.
VOL. IX. R
242 DISCOVERIES.
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 sur- named heavenly) because he seemed to thunder and lighten with his language? or to Alci- biades, 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 Eu- ripides 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,
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Cens. Seal, in Lil. Germ. — Horace. — To judge of poets is only the faculty of poets ; and not of all poets, but the best. Nemo infdicius depoetis judiccwit, quam qui de poetis scripsit* But some will say critics are a kind of tinkers, that make more faults than they mend ordinarily. See their dis- eases 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 any where, or damn an inno- cent syllabe, 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."
Cato grammaticus, Latina syren, Qui solus legit, etfacit poetas.
Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected.0
Horace his judgment of Choerillus defended against Joseph ScaligerJ* And of Laberius against Julius. q
But chiefly his opinion of Plautus1" 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
10 Senec. de brev. vit. cap. 13. et epist. 88.
n Heins. de Sat. 265. ° Pag 267. P Pag. 270, 271.
* Pag. 273, et seq. r Pag. in comm. 153, et seq.
R2
244 DISCOVERIES.
so great a master and censor in the art ; whose bondmen knew better how to judge of Plautus, than any that dare patronize the family of learn- ing 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 Augus- tus 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 place, 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 <U*<rxaAo* 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 mov- ing of laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude, that depraves some part of a man's
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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 repre- sentations, 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 seem 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 Aristo- phanes 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 ac- counted good until the wine be corrupted ; so jests that are true and natural seldom raise laugh- ter 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.
DISCOVERIES.
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 pully, 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 play-house, 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 ques- tion, 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 trie 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
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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 re- quires 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 in space. So that by this definition we conclude the fable to be the imi- tation 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 pa- lace, 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 co- medy, 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
248 DISCOVERIES.
happens to the eyes when we behold a body, the same happens to the memory, when we contem- plate 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 no- thing. 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 me- mory ; 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 de- termine 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 in- crease no more : so it behoves the action in. tragedy or comedy to be let grow, till the ne- cessity 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
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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 way 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 anti- quity itself hath deceived many, and more this day it doth deceive,
Hercules. — Theseus. — Achilles. — Ulysses, — Ho- mer and Virgil. — JEneas. — -Venus. — So many there be of old, that have thought the action of one man to be one ; as of Hercules, Theseus, Achil- les, 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 JEneas, 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
250 DISCOVERIES.
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 Tiny, are put not as the argument of the work, but episodes of the argument. So Homer laid b\ many things oi Ulysses, and handled no more than he saw tended to one and the same end.
Theseus. — Hercules. — Juvenal. — Codrus. — So- phoc'e* — Ajax* — Ulysses — Contrary to which, an<i fn»r,shly, those poets did, whom the philo- so|>* er 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, com- posed 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
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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 ab- sent, 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 :
Et9 quas per salt bras, altaque sajca cadunt. Accius et quidquid Pacwciusque vomunt. Attonitusque legis terrdi,frugiferdiS
' Martial, lib. 11. epig, 91
THE
ENGLISH GRAMMAR,
MADE BY
BEN JONSON,
FOR THE
BENEFIT OF ALL STRANGERS,
OUT OF HIS OBSERVATION OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, NOW SPOKEN AND IN USE.
Consuetudo, certissima loquendi magistra, uten- dumque plank sermone, ut nummo, cid publica forma est. Quinctil.
Non obstant hce discipline per illas euntibus sed circa illas hxrentibus. Quinctil.
Major adhuc restat labor, sed sane sit cum venid, si gratia carebit : boni enim artificis partes sunt, quam paucissimapossit omittere. Scalig. lib. 1. c. 25.
Neque enim optimi artificis esty omnia persequi.
Gallenus.
Expedire grammatico, etiam, si quadam nesciat.
Quinctil.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.] The Grammar which Jonson had prepared for the press was destroyed in the conflagration of his study. What we have here therefore, are rather the materials for a grammar than a perfect work.
Jonson had formed an extensive collection of Grammars, which appears to have been both curious and valuable. Howell writes to him in 1629 that, u according to his desire, he had, with some difficulty, procured Dr. Davies's Welsh Grammar, to add to those many which he already had." Letters, Sec. v. 26 ; and sir Francis Kynaston, in speaking of the old infi- nitives tellen, &c., says — " Such words ought rather to be esteemed as elegancies, since it appears by a most ancient Gram- mar written in the Saxon tongue and character, which I once saw in the hands of my most learned and celebrated friend, master Ben Jonson, that the English tongue in Chaucer's time,'' &c. Much more might be produced to the same effect ; but enough is given to shew (what indeed, was already sufficiently apparent) that our author never trifled with the public, nor attempted to handle any subject, of which he had not made himself a complete and absolute master.
The Grammar was first printed in the fol. 1640, three years after the author's death. The title was drawn up by the editors of that volume.
THE
PREFACE.
THE profit of Grammar is great to strangers, who are to live in communion and commerce with us, and it is honourable to ourselves : for by it we communicate all our labours, studies, profits, without an interpreter.
We free our language from the opinion of rudeness and barbarism, wherewith it is mistaken to be diseased : we shew the copy of it, and matcbableness with other tongues ; we ripen the wits of our own children and youth sooner by it, and advance their knowledge.
Confusion of language, a curse. Experience breedeth art : lack of experience, chance.
Experience, observation, sense, induction, are the four triers of arts. It is ridiculous to teach any thing for undoubted truth, that sense and experience can confute. So Zeno disputing of Quies, was confuted by Diogenes, rising up and walking.
In grammar, not so much the invention, as the disposition is to be co amended : yet we must remember, that the most excellent creatures are not ever born perfect; to leave bears, and whelps, and other failings of nature.
256 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
* Jul. Caesar Scaliger. de caus. Ling. Lat. Grammatici unusjinis est recte loqui. Neque ne-
cesse habet scribere. Accidit eriim scriptura voci, neque aliter scribere debemus, quam loquamur.
Ramus in dejinit. pag. SO.
Grammatica est ars bent loquendi.
k Veteres, ut Varro, Cicero, Quinctilianus, Etymologiam in notatione vocum statuere.
* Dictionis natura prior est, posterior orationis. Ex usu veterum Latinorum, Vox, pro dictione scrip - ta accipitur : quoniam vox esse possit. Est articu- lata, quce scripto excipi, atque exprimi valeat : inar- ticulata, quce non. Articulata vox dicitur, qua genus humanum utitur distinctlm, a cceteris ammalibus, quce muta vocantur : non, qudd sonum non edant ; sed quia soni eorum nullis exprimantur proprie lite- rarum notis.
Smithus de recta, et emend. L. Latin, script.
d Syllaba est elementum sub accentu. Scalig. lib. 2.
' Lit era est pars dictionis indi visibilis. Namquam- quam sunt liter CE qucedam duplices, una tamen tantiim litera est, sibi quceque sonum unum certum servans. Scalig,
Et Smithus, ibid. Litera pars minima vocis arti- culatte.
* Natura literce tribus modis intdligitur; nomine, quo pronundatur ; potestate, qua valet; figura, qua scribitur. At potettas est sonus Hie, quo pronun* dan, quern etiamfgura debet imitari ; ut his Prc- sodiam Orthographia sequatur. Asper.
* Prosodia autem, et Orthographia paries non sunt ; sedy ut sanguis, et spiritus per corpus univer- sumfusa. Seal, ut supra. Ramus, pag. 31.
THE
ENGLISH GRAMMAR
CHAP. I. OF GRAMMAR, AND THE PARTS.
a GRAMMAR is the art of true and well-speaking a language : the writing is but an accident.
The parts of Grammar are
Etymology*! ,. i . C the truenotationof words. Syntax, | ^therightorderingofthem.
c A word is a part of speech, or note, whereby a thing is known, or called ; and consisteth of one or more syllabes.
d A syllabe is a perfect sound in a word, and consisteth of one or more letters.
e A letter is an indivisible part of a syllabe, whose prosody,* or right sounding is perceived by the power; the orthography, or right writing, by the form.
g Prosody, and orthography, are not parts of grammar, but diffused like the blood and spirits through the whole.
VOL. ix. S
258 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
h Litera, a lineando ; undt, linere, lineatura, li- ters, et liturce. Neque enim ft lituris literce quia delerentur , prius enim fact &, quam delete sunt. At forma potiiis, atque oiV*a$ rationem, quam interitusy habeamux. Seal. ibid.
1 Litera genus quoddam est, cujus species prima- ritf duce vocalis et consonans, quarum natura, et comtitutio non potest pcrcipi, nisi prius cognoscantur differentia formates, quibus factum est, ut inter se non convenient Seal ibid.
k Litera differentia generica est potest as, quam nimls rndi consilio veteres Accidens appelldrunt . Est enim forma quadam ipseflexus in voce, quasi in ma- teria, propter quern flevum Jit; ut vocalis per se possit pronunciari : Muta non possit. Figura autem est accidens ab arte institutum ; potestque attributa mutari Jul. Cses. Seal, ibidem. De w, ac potes- tate liter arum tarn accurate scrips&runt Antiqui9 quam de quavis alia SUCK professions part e. Elabo- rarunt in hoc argumento Varro, Priscianus, Appion, ille, qui cymbalum dicebatur mundi : et inter rhe- tor es non postremi judicii, Dionysius Halicarnassceusy Caius quoque Ccesar, et Octavius Augustus. Smith, ibid,
1 Literce, qu& per seipsas possint pronunciari, vo- cales sunt ; quce non, nisi cum aliis9 consonants.
Vocalium nomina simplici sono, nee different^ a potestate, proferantur.
Consonances, additis vocalibus, quibusdam prcepo- sitis, aliis postpositis
m Ex consonant ib us ^ quorum nomen incipit a Con- sonant e, Mutce sunt ; quarum a vocali, semi-vocale$ : Mutas non inde appellatasj qudd parum sonarent, sed qudd nihil.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 259
CHAP. II.
OF LETTERS AND THEIR PowERs.k
IN our language we use these twenty and four letters, A. B, C. D. E. F. G. H. I. K. L. M. N. O. P. Q R. S. T. V. W. X. Y. Z. a. b. c. d. e. f. g. h. i. k. L m. n. o. p. q. r. s. t. v. w. x. y. z. The great letters serve to begin sentences, with us, to lead proper names, and express numbers. The less make the fabric of speech.
V X
Our numeral letters are,
1 5 10
L >for«
O
D
M
50
100
500
1000
1 All letters are either vowels or consonants ; and are principally known k by their powers. The Jigure is an accident.
1 A vowel will be pronounced by itself: acow- sonant not without the help of a vowel, either before or after.
The received vowels in our tongue are,
a. e. i. o. u.
m Consonants be either mutes, and close the sound, as b. c. d. g. k.p. q. t. Or half vowels, and open it, asy. /. m. n. r. s. x. z.
H. is rarely other than an aspiration in power, though a letter in form.
W. and Y. have shifting and uncertain as shall be shewn in their places.
83
260 GRAMMATICA ANGLICAN A.
n Omnes Vocales ancipites sunt ; (i. e.) modd lon- ga, modd breves :, eodem tamen modo semper depict ce, (nam scriptura est imitatio sermonis, ut pictura cor- poris. Scriptio vocum pictura. Smith us J et eodem sono pronunciatcB. Nisi qudd vocalis longa bis tan- turn temppris in effando retinet, quam brevis. Ut rectb cecinit ille de vocalibus.
Temporis unius brevis esty ut longa duorum.
A
0 Litera hujus sonus est omnium gentium fire communis. Nomen autem, etjigura multis nationibus est diversa. Scalig. et Ramus.
Dionysius ait a esse, ZVQUVOTOITOV, ex plenitudine vocis.
p Teren. Maurusi
A, prima locum littera sic ab ore, sumit, Immunia, rictu patulo. temre labra : Linguamque ntctsse est ita pandultim reduci, Ut nisus in illam valeat subire -cods, Nee partibus ullis aliquos ferire denies.
E
Triplicem differentiam habct : primam, mediocfis rictus : secundam, Ungnce, eamque duplicem ; al- ter am> interior is, nempe itrflexce ad inter ius calum
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 261
CHAP. III. OF THE VOWELS.
B All our vowds are sounded doubtfully. In quantity, (which is time) long or short. Or, in accent, (which is tune) sharp or flat. Long in these words, and their like :
Debating, congeling, expiring, opposing, enduring*
Shortinthese: Stomaching, severing, vanquish- ing, ranstiming, picturing..
Sharp in these : hdte, mete, bite, ndte, pule.
Flat in these : hat, met, bit, ndt, pull.
A
• With us, in most words, is pronounced less than the French a ; as in
art, act, apple, ancient.
But when it comes before /, in the end of a syllabe, it obtaineth the full French sound, p and is uttered with the mouth and throat wide opened, the tongue bent back from the teeth, as in
all, small, gall, fall, tall, call. So in the syliabes where a consonant followeth the /, as in
salt, malt, balm, calm.
E
Is pronounced with a mean opening the mouth, the tongue turned to the inner roof of the palate, and softly striking the upper great teeth. It is a letter of divers note and use ; and either sound- eth, or is silent. When it is the last letter, and soundeth, the sound is sharp, as in the French i.
262 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
palati ; alterant genuinos prementis. Tertia est labri inferiori^
Ramus, lib. 2.
Duas primas Terentianus notavit ; tertiam tacuit.
Terentianus 1.
E, quce sequitur, vocula dissona est priori: quia deprimit altum modico tenore rictum, et remotos premit hinc, et hinc molares.
T Apud latinos, e latius sonat in adverbio benfc, quam in adverbio here : hujus enim posterior em vocalem cxilius pronunciabant ; ita, ut etiam in maximk exihm sonum transient herl. Id, quod latitis in multis quoque patet : ut ab Eo, verbo, deductum,* ire, iis, et eis : diis, et dels . febrem, febrim : turrem, turrim : priore, et priori : Ram. et Scalig.
Et propter hanc vicinitatem (ait Quinct.) e quoque loco i Juit : ut Menerva, leber, magester : pro Minerva, liber, magister.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 263
Example in me, set, agree, ye, she ; in all, saving the article tht.
Where it endeth, and soundeth obscure and faintly, it serves as an accent to produce the vowel preceding: as in made, stSme, stripe, 6re9 cure, which else would sound, mad, stem, strip, dr, cur.
It altereth the power of c, g, s, so placed, as in hence, which else would sound henc ; swinge, to make it different from swing ; use, to distin- guish it from us.
It is mere silent in words where / is coupled with a consonant in the end ; as whistle, gristle, brittle, jickle, thimble, &c.
Or after v consonant, as in
love, glove, move.
Where it endeth a former sylFabe, it soundeth longish, but flat; as in
dlrwe, prepare, resolve.
Except in derivatives, or compounds of the sharp e, and then it answers the primitive or simple in the first sound ; as
agreeing, of agree; foreseeing, of foresee ; being, of be.
Where it endeth a last syllabe, with one or more consonants after it, it either soundeth flat and full ; as in
descent, intent, amend, offend, rest, best. Or it passeth away obscured, like the faint i; as in these,
written, gotten, open, sayeth, Sec.
* Which two letters e and i have such a near- ness in our tongue, as oftentimes they interchange places ; as in
tnduce, for induce : endite, for indite.
GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
I
Porrigit ictum genuino prope ad ipsos Minimumque renidet supero tenus labello.
Terent.
/ vocalis sonos habet tres : suum, exilem : alte- rum, latiorem proprioremque ipsi e ; et tertium, obscuriorem ipsius u, inter qute duo Y grazcce vocalis sonus continetur : ut non inconsultd Viclorinus am- biguam ilium quam adduximus vocem, per Y scrib en- dam esse putarit, Optimus.
Scalig. Ante consonantem I semper cst vocalis*
1 Ante vocalem ejusdem syllaba consonant
* Apud Hebrceos I perpetud est consonans ; ut apud Grcecos vocalis.
w Ut in Giacente, Giesti, Gioconda, Giustitia.
x O pronunciatur rotundo ore9 lingua ad radices hypoglossis reductA. o pixpov, et u ptya, unicd tan- turn not A, sono different!.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 265
Is of a narrower sound than e, and uttered with a less opening of the mouth, the tongue brought back to the palate, and striking the teeth next the cheek teeth.
It is a letter of a double power.
As a vowel in the former, or single syllabes, it hath sometimes the sharp accent ; as in
binding, minding, pining, whining, wiving, thriv- ing, mine., thine.
Or all words of one syllabe qualified by e. But the flat in more, as in these, bill, blttt?**, giddy, little, incident, and the like.
In the derivatives of sharp primitives, it keep- eth the sound, though it deliver over the primi- tive consonant to the next syllabe : as in divi-ning, requi-ring, repi ning.
For, a consonant falling between two vowels iu the word, will be spelled with the latter In syl- labes and words, composed of the same elements, it varieth the sound, now sharp, now flat : as in
give, give, alive, live, drive, driven, title, title.
But these, use of speaking, and acquaintance in reading, will teach, rather than rule
* /, in the other power, is merely another let- ter, and would ask to enjoy another character. For where it leads the sounding vowel, and be- ginneth the syllabe, it is ever a consonant ; as in
James, John, jest, jump, conjurer, perjured. And before diphthongs ; as jay, joy, juice, having the force of the Hebrew Jod* and the Italian
O
Is pronounced with a round mouth, the
and is a letter us.
x Is pronounced with a round m tongue drawn back to the root; and of much change, and uncertainty with
GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
y Profertur, ut w.
* Ut oo, vel ou Gallicum.
Una quoniam sat habitum est notare forma, Pro temporibus qua gremium ministret usum. Igitur sonitum reddere voles minor i, Jletrorsus adactam modice teneto linguam, Rictu neque magno sat erit patere labra, At longior alto tragicum sub or is antro Molita, rotundis acuit sonum labellis. Terent.
Differ entiam o parvi valde distinct am Franci te- nent : sed scripturA valde confundant. O, scribunt ferinde ut proferunt. At « scribunt modd ptr au, modd per ao, qua sonum talem minimi sonant, qui simplici, et rotundo motu oris proferri debet.
a Quanta sit ajfinitas (o) cum (u) ex Quinct. Plinio, Papyriano notum est. Quidenim o et u,per- mutatce invicem, ut Hecobe, e^Notrix, Culchides, et Pulixena, scriberentur ? sic nostri prceceptores, Cervom, Servomque u et o litteris scripserunt ; Sic ded^ront, probaveront, Romanis olim fuire> Quinct. lib. 1.
Deinque o, teste Plinio apud Priscianum, aliquot Italics cimtates non habebant ; sed loco ejus pone- bant u, et maaime Umbri, et Tusci. Atque u contra, teste apud eundem Papyriano, multis Italics populis in usu non erat ; sed utebantur o ; unde Romanorum quoque vctustissimi in multis dictionibus, loco ejus o fosu&runt ; Ut poblicurn, pro publicum ; pol- crum, pro pulcrum ; colpam, pro culpam.
Quam scribere Graius, nisijungat Y, nequibit Hanc edere vocem quoties paramus ore, Nitamur ut V dicer e, sic citetur ortus Productius autem, coeuntibus labellis Natura sonipressl altius meabit. Terentian.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 267
In the long time it naturally soundeth sharp, and high ; as in
y chosen, hosen, holy, folly ;
open, over, note, throte.
In the short time more flat, and akin to u ; as * cosen, dose/i, mother, brother, love, prove.
In the diphthong sometimes the o is sounded ; as 6ught, sdught, nought,
wrdught, mow, sow.
But oftener upon the u ; as in sdund, bound, how, now, thou, cow.
In the last syllabes, before n and w, quently loseth its sound ; as in
person, action, willow, billow. It holds up, and is sharp, when it ends the word, or syllabe ; as in
go, fro, so, no.
Except into, the preposition; two, the numeral; do, the verb, and the compounds of it ; as undo, and the derivatives, as doing.
It varieth the sound in syllabes of the same character, and proportion ; as in
shove ; glove, grove.
Which double sound it hath from the Latin; as » Voltus, vultus, vultis, voltis.
V
b Is sounded with a narrower and mean com- pass, and some depression of the middle of the tongue, and is like our i, a letter of a double power. As a vowel, it soundeth thin and sharp, as in use ; thick and flat, as in us.
It never endeth any word for the nakedness, but yieldeth to the termination of the diphthong ew, as in new, knew, Sec. or the qualifying e9 as in sue, due, true, and the like.
268 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
Et alibi.
Graca diphthongus », literis tamen nostris vacaty
Sola vocalis quod u complet hunc satis sonum.
Ut in titulis, fabulis Terentii prapositis. Grceca Menandru : Gr&ca Apollodoru, pro Msya;/Jp», et 'AiroXXoSoov, et quidem, ne quis de potestate vocalis hujus addubitare possit, etiam a mutis animalibus testimonium Plautus nobis evhibuit e Peniculo Me- nechmi .ME. Egon" dedi? Pe. tu, tu, inquam, vin' afferri noctuam,
Qua tu, tu, usque dicat tibi : nam nos jam nos dcfessi sumus.
Ergo ut ovium balatus yra, literce sonum : sic noctuarum cant us, et cuculi apud Aristophanem so- num hujus vocalis vindkabit. Nam, qnando u /£- quescit, ut in quis, et sanguis, habet sonum commu- nem cum Y gr&ca, % u-rroff o KOKKV% tiirot KOXKV. Et quando Coccyx dixit Coccy.
e Co nsonansut uGallicum, velDigammaprofertur.
Hanc tt modo quam diximus J, simuljugatas,
Verum est spacium sumere, vimque consonatum.
Ut quczque tamen constiterit loco priore :
NamsijugSi quis nominet, J consonajiet. Terent. Versa vice jit prior V, sequatur ilia, ut in vide.
d Ut It ali proferunt Edoardo in Edouardo, et Galli, ou-y.
Suavis, suadeo, etiam Latinij ut sv-avis, £c. At quid attinet duplicare, quod simplex queat sufficere ? Proinde W pro copia Character urn non reprehendo, pro nova lit era certe non agnosco. Veteresque Angk) - Saxones pro ed, quando nos W solemus uti, Jiguram istius modi p sole bant conscribere, qua non mult urn differt ab ed, qua et hodie utimur fy simplici, dum verbum inchoet.
Smithus de rect. et amend. L. A, Script,
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 269
e When it followeth a sounding 'vowel in a syl- labe it is a consonant ; as in save, rewe, prove, love, Sec. Which double force is not the unsteadfast- ness of our tongue, or incertainty of our writing, but fallen upon us from the Latin.
W
d Is but the V geminated in the full sound, and though it have the seat of a consonant with us, the power is always vowe&sk, even where it leads the vowel in any syllabe ; as, if you mark it, pronounce the two uu, like the Greek *, quick in passage, and these words,
x-ine, x-ant, x-ood, x-ast, sx-ing, sx-am ; will sound, wine, want, wood, wast, swing, swam.
So put the aspiration afore, and these words,
hx-at, hx'ich, hx-eel, hx-ether / Will be, what, which, wheel, whether.
In the diphthongs there will be no doubt, as in draw, straw, sow, know.
Nor in derivatives, as knowing, sowing, drawing.
Where the double w is of necessity used, rather than the single u, lest it might alter the sound, and be pronounced knowing, sowing, drawing ;
As in sawing, hawing.
Y
Is also mere vowelish in our tongue, and hath only the power of an i, even where it obtains the seat of a consonant, as in young, younker.
Which the Dutch, whose primitive it is, write lunk, Junker.
And so might we write
iouth, ies, ioke, ionder, iard, ielk ; youth, yes, yoke, yonder, yard, yelk.
270 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
1 Siquidem eandem pro v, graco retinet : Certk alium quam i, omni in loco redder e debebat sonum.
B
* Nobis cum Latinis communis. Smith. Nam mutajubet comprimi labella, Vocalis at intus locus exitum ministrat. Terent. B, Labris per spiritus impetum reclusis edidmus.
Mart, capy C
h Litera Androgyne, naturAnecmas, necfcemina, et utrumque est neutrum. Monstrum litera, non litera ; Ignorantice specimen, non artis. Smithus.
Quomodo nunc utimur vulgd, aut nullas, aut ni- mias habet vires : Nam modd k sonat, modd s. "At si litera sit a k et s diversa, suum debet habere so- num. Sed nescio quod monstrum, aut Empusa sit, quce modd mas, modd fcemina, modd serpens, modd comix, appareat ; et per ejusmodi imposturas, pro suo arbitrio, tarn s quam k wigat <zdibu$9 etfundis
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 271
But that we choosey, for distinction sake ; as we usually difference to lye or feign, from to lie along, 8$c.
In the diphthong it sounds always i; as in may, say, way Joy, toy, they.
And in the ends of words ; as in deny, reply, defy, cry.
Which sometimes are written by i, but quali- fied by e.
But where two ii are sounded, the first will be ever ay; as in derivatives :
denying, replying, defying.
f Only in the words received by us from the Greek, as syllabe, tyran, and the like, it keeps the sound of the thin and sharp u, in some pro- portion. And this we had to say of the vowels.
CHAP. IV.
OF THE CONSONANTS.
B
s HATH the same sound with us as it hath with the Latin, always one, and is uttered with closing of the lips.
C
b Is a letter which our forefathers might very well have spared in our tongue ; but since it hath obtained place both in our writing and lan- guage, we are not now to quarrel with orthogra- phy or custom, but to note the powers.
Before a, u, and o, it plainly sounds k, chi, or kappa ; as in
cable, cobble, cudgel. Or before the liquids, I and r ; as in clod, crust.
272 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
suis : Ut jure possint ha dua llterte contender e cum c per edictum, unde vi : Neque dubito quin, ubisit prator aquus facile c cadet causm
1 4 pud Latinos c eandem habuit formam, et cha- racterem, quern Efyfta apud Graecos vcteres.
An hacfuit occasio, qudd ignorantia> confusioque etmdem, apud imperil os, dederit sonum C, quern S, nolo affirmare.
k Vctusta illius Anglo-Saxonicse linguce, et scriptionis peritiores condendunt, apud illos atams nostros Anglo-Saxones, C literam, maxime, ante e et \ eum habuisse sonum, quern, et pro tenui rx Chi, sono agnoscimus : et Itali, maxinie Hetrusci, ante e et \ hodii usurpant. Idem ibidem.
1 C molar ib u s super lingua extrema appulsis ex- primitur. Mart. Cap.
C pressius urget : sed et hinc, hincquc remitfit, Quo vocis adh&rens sonus expticetur ore.
Terent.
D
D appulsu lingua circa denies superior es innascitur.
" At portio denies quotiens suprema lingua Pulsaverit imos, modiceque curva summas, Tune D sonitum perficit, explicatque vocem.
Terent.
F n Litera a graca <p recedit lenis, et hebes sonus.
Idetn.
0 Vau consona, Varrone et Dydimo testibus, no- minata est &*jigura a Claudio C&sarejacta etiam est. Vis ejus, et potestas est eademy qua Digamma Aeolici, ut ostendit Terentianus in v consona.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 273
Or when it ends a former syllabe before a conso- nant; as in
ac-quaintance, acknowledgment , ac-tion. In all which it sounds strong.
Before e and i it hath a weak sound, and his- seth like s ; as in
certain, center, civil, citizen, whence. Or before diphthongs, whose first vozvel is e or i; as in
cease, deceive, ceiling.
k Among the English Saxons it obtained the weaker force of chi, or the Italian c ; as in
capel, cane, cild, cyrce. Which were pronounced
chapel, chance, child, church. 1 It is sounded with the top of the tongue, striking the upper teeth, and rebounding against the palate.
D
Hath the same sound, both before and after a 'vowel with us, as it hath with the Latins ; and is pronounced softly," the tongue a little affecting the teeth, but the nether teeth most.
F
Is a letter of two forces with us; and in them both sounded with the nether lip rounded, and a kind of blowing out; but gentler in the one than the other.
The more general sound is the softest," and expresseth the Greek <p ; as in
faith, Jield, Jight, force. Where it sounds ef.
r The other is lu, or vau, the digamma of Clau- dius ; as in
cleft, of cleave ; left, of leave,
VOL. ix. T
274 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
V, vade, veni, refer ; teneto vultum : Crevisse sonum perspicis, et cdisse crassum, Unde JEoliis litera jingitur Digammos. j, quasi iv, contrarium F, qua sonat <p.
G
v Spiritus cum palato. Mart. Cap.
De sono quidem hujus liters satis const at : Sed distinctions caussa Characterem illl dederunt aliqui hum s, ut secernatur a G. Nam ut Grseci in se- cunda conjugatione tres habent literas, K, y, %, tetmern, mediam, densam ; Angli quatuor habent, rat a j.roportione sibi respondentes, ka, ga, ce, S t. Illce simplices, et apert& ; hce stridulce^ et compressee; illce medice linguce officio sonantur ; ha summA lin- gua ad interiores illisa, superiorum dentium gingwas efflantur. Quodque est ka ad ga : Idem est ce ad 3- Smith us ibid.
Voces tamen pler&que, quas Meridionales Angli per hunc sonum T* 3 pronunciamus injine: Boreales per G proferunt : ut in voce Pons, nos hris : Hit brig. In rupturd} brec : illi brek. Maturamavem ad volandum, nos fli^ : I Hi flig- Ibid.
Apud Latinos proximum ipsi C est G. Itaque Cneum et Gneum, dicebant : Sic Curculionem, et Gurculionem : Appulsd enim ad palatum lingua, modicello rclicto intervallo, spiritu totapronunciatur.
Seal, de causs. L. L. Et Terentianus,
Sic amurca, qua vetuste stfpe per c scribitur, ^
Esse per g proferendum crediderunt plurimi. "
Quando apowif Gr^eca vox est ; yupptx, origo
pr&ferat. Apud Germanos semper profertur y,
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 275
The difference will best be found in the word of, which as a preposition sounds
oy oj, speaking of a person or thing. As the adverb of distance, off, far off.
G
9 Is likewise of double force in our tongue, and is sounded with an impression made on the midst of the palate.
Before a, o, and u, strong; as in these,
gate, got, gut. Or before the aspirate h, or liquids land r; as in
ghost, glad, grant. Or in the ends of the words ; as in
long, song, ring, swing, eg, leg, lug, dug. Except the qualifying c follow, and then the sound is ever weak ; as in
age, stage, hedge, sledge, judge, drudge. Before w, the force is double ; as in
guile, guide, guest, guise. Where it soundeth like the French gu. And in
guerdon, languish) anguish. Where it speaks the Italian gu.
Likewise before e and i, the powers are con- fused, and uttered, now strong, now weak ; as in get, geld, give, 7j git tern, jinger> j
In
genet, gentle, gin, i . gibe, ginger, ] M eak'
But this use must reach : the one sound being warranted to our letter from the Greek, the otber from the Latin throughout. We will leave /fin this place, and come to
T2
276 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA,
K
q dim Kalendse Gracam habebant diductionem et sonum, KowTrot, Gr&cam sunt mutuati lit^ ram Ro- mani, ut eas exprimcrent. Et, credo tamen. fwerunt ed forma, ut, ct C Romanum efformarent, gudd ha- beret adjunctum, quasi retrd bacillum, ut robur ei adder ent 1st a forma K : nam C Romanum stridulum quiddam, et mollius sonat, quam K Grtfcum.
Est et hcec lit era Gallis plane nupervacanea, aut certe qu est. Nam qui, quae, quod, quid nulla pronunciant differentia, ne minima quidetn, a ki, ke, kod, kid, faucibus, palatoque format ur* Capel. Romani in sua serie non habebunt.
L
' Lingua, palatoque dulc&scit. M. Cap.
Etsic Dionysius yXvuvTUTov, dulcissimam literam nominal.
Qui nescit, quid sit es$e Semi-vocalem, ex nostra lingua facife pot er it discere : Ipsa enim literal^ quandam, quasi vocalem, in se videtur continere, ita ut juncta mutae sine vocali sonumfaciat ; ut abl, stabl, fabl, t^c.
Qu& nos scribimus cum e, injirie, vulgo able, stable, fable.
Sed certi illud e non tarn sonat hie, quamfuscum illud, etfoemininum Francorum e : Nam nequicquam sonat.
Alii h<zc haud inconsultb scribunt abil, stabil, fabul ; Tanquam cifontibus
habilis, stabilis, fabula ;
Verius, sed nequicquam projiciunt. Nam consider - atius auscultanti, nee i, nee u est, sed tinnitus qui- dam, vocal is naturam habens, qua naturaliter his liquid is inest.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 277
K
Which is a letter the Latins never acknow- ledged, hut only borrowed in the word kalenda. Thev used qu for it. We sound it as the Greek x ; and as a necessary letter, it precedes and fol- lows all vowels with us.
It goes hefore no consonants but n; as in
knave, knel, knot. Sec. And /, with the quiet e after ; as in mickle, pickle, trickle, Jickle. Which were better written without the c, if that which we have received for orthography would yet be contented to be altered. But that is an emendation rather to be wished than hoped for, after so long a reign of ill custom amongst us. It followeth the s in some words ; as in
skirt) skirmish. Which do better so sound, than if written with c.
L
1 Is a letter half-vowelish ; which, though the Italians (especially the Florentines) abhor, we keep entire with the Latins, and so pronounce.
It melteth in the sounding, and is therefore called a liquid, the tongue striking the root of the palategently. Itisseldom doubled, but where the vowel sounds hard upon it ; as in
hell, bell, kill; shrill, trull, full.
And, even in these, it is rather the haste, and superfluity of the pen, that cannot stop itself upon the single /, than any necessity we have to use it. For, the letter should be doubled only for a following syllabe's sake ; as in
killing, beginning) begging, swimming.
278 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
M
' Libris imprimitur. M. Capella.
Mugit intus abditum, ac ccecum sonum. Terent.
Triplex sonus hujus literal M Obscurum, in ex- tremitatedictionumsonat , wftempium: Apertum, in principle* ; ut magnus : Mediocre, in mediis ; ut umbra. Prise.
N
Quarto? sonitus jingitur usque sub potato. Quo spiritus anceps cot at iiaris, et oris. Terent. Lingua dentibus appulxa collidit. Mart. Cap. Splendidissimo sorto injine : et subtremulo pleniore in principiis ) mediocri in media. Jul. C. Seal.
P
Labris spiritu erumpit. Mar, Cap. Pellit sonitum de mediis foras labellis.
Ter. Maurus. Q
" Est litera mendica, supposititia, vtre servilis, manca, et decrepit a ; et sine u, tanquam bacillo, nihil potest : et cum u nihil valet amplius quam k. Qualis qualis est^ hanc jam habemus, sea semper cum prcecedente sud u, ancilla superbd. Smithus. Namque Q pr amiss a semper u, simul mugit sibi, Syllabam non editura, ni comes sit tertia Quwlibet vocalis. Ter. Mau.
Diomedes ait Q esse compositam ex c et u. Appulsu palati ore restricto profertur. M. Cap.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 279
M
• Is the same with us in sound as with the Latins. It is pronounced with a kind of humming inward, the lips closed; open and full in the beginning, obscure in the end, and meanly in the midst.
N
* Ringeth somewhat more in the lips and nose ; the tongue striking back on the palate, and hath a threefold sound, shrill in the end, full in the beginning, and flat in the midst.
They are letters near of kin, both with the Latins and us.
P
u Breaketh softly through the lips, and is a letter of the same force with us as with the Latins.
Q
w Is a letter we might very well spare in our alphabet, if we would but use the serviceable k as he should be, and restore him to the right of reputation he had with our forefathers. For the English Saxons knew not this halting Q, with her waiting woman u after her; but exprest quail, ~ fkuail,
ual, ~J f
Vuest> (bvl quick, f J
quill, j \
quick, f J kuick, quill, j \kuilL
Till custom, under the excuse of expressing enfranchised words with us, intreated her into our language, in
quality, quantity, quarrel, quintessence, &c. And hath now given her the best of A's pos- sessions.
280 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
R
* Vibrat tremulis ictibus aridum sonorem. Ter. M. — -Sonat hie de nare caninA Litera Pers, Sat. 1.
R Spirit urn lingua crispante, corraditur. M. Cap.
Dionysius rccv opoyevewv rytvotiuT&rov ypdpfAU, & congeneribus generosissimam appellavit.
S
y S promptus in ore, agiturque pone denies, Sic lenis et unum ciet auribus susurrum. Quare non est merit a, ut a Pindaro dicer etur XavKtZSvi'hov. Dionysius quoque cum ipsum expellit, rejicitque ad serpentes, maluit canem irritatem imi- tari, quam arboris naturales susorros sequi. Seal. Est Consonantiutn prima, et fortissimo, hcec
litera, ut agno^cit Terentianus. Ram. Vwida est h&c inter omnes* atque densa litera. Sibilumfacit dentibus verberatis. M. Cap. Quotics litera media vocalium longarum, vet sub- jecta longif esset, geminabitur ; ut Caussa, Cassus. Quintil.
* T qua superis dentibus intima est origo
Summa satis est ad sonitumfer ire lingua. Ttr. T. appulsu linguce, dentibusque appulsis excuditur.
M. Cap.
Latine factio, actio, generatio, corruptio, vi- tium, otiuni, 8$c.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 281
R
* Is the dog's letter, and hurreth in the sound ; the tongue striking the inner palate, with a trembling about the teeth. It is sounded firm in the beginning of the words, and more Liquid in the middle and ends ; as in rarer, riper.
And so in the Latin.
S
J Is a most easy and gentle letter, and softly hisseth against the teeth in the prolation. It is called the serpent* s letter, and the chief of the consonants. It varieth the powers much in our pronunciation, as in the beginning oi v onl* it hath the sound of weak c before vowels, diphthongs, or consonants ; as
salty say, small, sell, shrik, shift, soft, £c. Sometimes it inclineth to z; as in these, '
muse, use, rose, nose, wise,
and the like : where the latter vowel serves
for the mark or accent of the former's production.
So, after the half-vowels, or the obscure e ; as in
bells, gems, wens, burs,
chimes, names, games,
Where the vowel sits hard, it is commonly doubled.
T
* Is sounded with the tongue striking the upper teeth, and hath one constant power, save where it precedeth /; and that again followed by another vowel ; as in
faction, action, generation, corruption, where it hath the force of s, or c.
282 GRAMM ATICA ANGLICANA.
X
T X potestatem habet cs, et gs ; ut
ex crux et frux, appareat. Quorum obliqui casus sunt
Crucis et Frugis.
Ram. in Gram, ex Varrone. X quicquid c et sformavit, exsibilat. Capell. Neque Latini, neque Nos ilia multum utimur.
Z
• Z verd idcircd Appius Claudius detestabatur ; quod denies mortui, dum exprimitur, imitatur.
M Capel.
^ Compendium duarum literarum est <r$, in und notay et compendium Orthographic, non Prosodise; quia hie in voce non una lit era effertur, sv.d duce dis- tinguuntur. Compendium inelegant £r, ct j'allaciter inventum. Sonus enim, not a ilia significatus, in unam syllabam non perpetud concluditur, sed dividitur, aliquando. Ut in illo Plauti loco: Non Atricissat, sed Sicilissat, pro amm^^ o-iKtXiQt, Greeds ; et ubi initium Jacit, est ^cr, non enr, sicuti fyv$, non u^, $ed$<rev$. Ram. in lib. S.
H
Nulli dubium est,faucibus emicet quod ipsis
H litera sive est nota, quce spiret anhelum, Ter.
H, contractispaulumfaucibus, ventus exhalat.
Mar. Cap.
Vocalibus apttt, sed et anteposita cunctis Hastas, Hederas, quum loquor, Hister, Hospes,
Hujus.
Solum patitur quatuor ante consonantes, Graecis quotih nominibm Latina forma est,
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 283
X
y Is rather an abbreviation, or way of short writing with us, than a letter : for it hath the sound of c and s, or k and s. It begins no word with us, that I knovv, but ends many; as
ax, si#, fox, box, which sound like these,
Backs, knacks, knocks, locks, &c.
Z
* Is a letter often heard among us, but seldom seen ; borrowed of the Greeks at first, being the same with £; and soimdeth in the middle as double ss, though in the end of many English words (where 'tis only properly used) it seems to sound as s ; as in maze, gaze.
And on the contrary, words writ with s sound like z ; as muse, nose, hose, as.
Never in the beginning, save in the West country people, that have zed, zay, zit, zo, zomc, and the like ; for said, say, sit, so, some.
Or in the body of words indenizened, i. e. de- rived from the Greek, and commonly used as English ; as
azure, zeal, zephyre, &c.
H
* Whether it be a letter or no, hath been much examined by the ancients, and by some of the Greek party too mucb condemned, and thrown out of the alphabet, as an aspirate merely, and in request only before vuzvels in the beginning of words. The Welsh retain it still after many con- sonants. But be it a letter, or spirit, we have great use of it in our tongue, both before and after vowels. And though I dare not say she is
284 GRAMMATICA ANGLIC AN A.
Si quando Chores Phillida, Rhamnes, Thima,
dico.
Recte quidem in hdcparte Graecissant nostri Walli.
Smithus.
H verd KOIT* t%°%yv aspiratio vocatur Est enim
omnium literarum spirituosissimu vcl spiritus po-
tius ipse. Nuliius, nut quam minimum cgens ofjicii
eorum. quce modd nominavimus instrumenta literarum
fornwndarum.
H extrinsecus ascribitur omnibus Vocalibus, ut minimum somt ; Consonantibus autem quibusdam intrinsecus.
Ch.
* Omnis litera, sive vo#> plus sonat ipsa sese, cum fostponitur, quam cum ant eponitur. Quod vocalibus accidem esse videtur ; nee si toilatur ea, ptrit ctiam *ois significationis ; ut, si aicam Erennius, absque aspiration^ quamvis vitium vidtarfacere, intdltctus tamtn integer permanet Consonantibus autem si cok&ret, ut ejusdem pemtus substantive sit, et si au- jferatur, significationis vim minuat prorsus ; tit, si dicam Cremes, pro Chremes. Undehac comidcrata ratio/ie. Graecorum doctissimi singulas jecirunt eas quoque lit eras, ut pro
th 6, pro pb <p, pro chi %. Ram.
Gb,
c Sonum illius g queer ant t quibus it a libet scri- bere ; aures projecto mece nunquam in his vocibus sonitum TV g poterant haurire.
Smithus de rect* et emend.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 285
(as I have heard one call her) the queen-mother of consonants ; yet she is the life and quickening of c, g, p, s, t, w ; as also r when derived from the aspirate Greek £; as cheat, ghost, alphabet, shape, that, what, rhapsody.
Of which more hereafter*
What her powers are before vowels and diph- thongs, will appear in
hall, heal, hill, hot, how, hew, hoiday, &c.
In some it is written, but sounded without power; as
host, honest, humble ;
where the vowel is heard without the aspiration; as ost, omst, umb/e.
After the vowel it sounds ; as in ah, and oh.
Beside, it is coupled with divers consonants, where 'the force varies, and is particularly to be examined.
We will begin with Ch.
Ch.
b Hath the force of the Greek %, or *, in many words derived from the Greek ; as in charact, Christian, chronicle, archangel, monarch. In mere English words, or fetched from the Latin, the force of the Italian c.
chaplain, chast, chest, chops, chin, chuff, churl.
Gh.
c Is only a piece of ill writing with us : if we could obtain of custom to mend it, it were not the worse for our language, or us : for the g sounds just nothing in
trough, cough, might, night, &c.
Only the writer was at leisure to add a super- fluous letter, as there are too many in dography*
286 GRAMMATICA ANGLICANA.
Ph. et Rh. * Litera q> apud Grsecos, £ aspirata.
Sh.
e Si quis error in literisferendus est, cum corrigi queat, nusquam in ullo sono tolerabilior est, quam in hoc, si scribatur Sh : et in }> si scribatur per th. Nam hae duce quandam violent iam grandiorem spi- ritus in proferendo requirunt, quam ccetera liters. Ibid.
Th.
f Hdc litera sive charactere, quam spinam, id est, forne, nostri Proavi appellabant, Am nostri, et qui proxime ante librorum impressionem virerunt, sunt abusi, ad omnia ea scribenda, quce nunc magno ma- gistrorum err ore per th scribimus ; ut
J?e. >ou. J>at. J***. J?*se. >iek.
Sed ubi mollior cvprimebatur sonus, superne scri- bebant : ubi durior in eodem sulco ; molllorem ap- pello ilium, quern Anglo-Sax ones per 8 durior em, quern per}, exprimebant. Nam illud Saxonum « respondet illi sono, quern vulgaris Grseca lingua facit, quando pronunciant suum 9, aut Hispani d, liter am suam mollior em, ut cum veritatem, verdad appellant. Spina autem ilia }>, videtur referre pror^ sus Graecorum 0. At th sonum 0 non recte dat. Nam si 0 non esset alia deftexio vocis, nisi aspira- tionis addita, aque facile fuit Grecis r<a r aspira- tionem adjungere, quam T*> \*
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 287
Ph Sc Rh.
d Are used only in Greek infranchised words ; as
Philip, physic, rhetoric, Rhodes, &c.
Sh
* Is merely English, and hath the force of the Hebrew ttf shin, or the French ch ; as in shake, shed, shine, show, shrink, rush, blush.
Th
( Hath a double and doubtful sound, which must be found out by use of speaking; some- times like the Greek 0; as in
thief, thing, lengthen, strengthen, loveth, Sec.
In others, like their $, or the Spanish d; as
this, that, then, thence,
those, bathe, bequeath.
And in this consists the greatest difficulty of our alphabet, and true writing : since we have lost the Saxon characters % and > that distin- guished
«e, ") rj>ick,
*p,
Wh
Hath been enquired of in o>. And this for the letters.
288 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
CHAP. V. OF THE DIPHTHONGS.
Diphthongs are the complexions or couplings of vowels, when the two letters send forth a joint sound, so as in one syllabe both sounds be heard ; as in
Ai, or Ay, aid, maid, said, pay, day, way.
Au, or Aw, audience, author, aunt, law, saw, draw.
Ea,
earl, pearl, meat, seat, sea, flea. To which add yea and plea ; and you have at one view all our words of this termination.
Ei,
sleight, streight, weight, theirs.
Ew, few, strew, drew, anew.
Oi, or Oy,
point, joint, soil, coil, joy, toy, boy.
00,
good, food, mood, brood, &c.
Ou, or Ow, rout, stout, how, now, bow, low.
Vi, or Vy,
puissance, or puyssance; juice, orjuyce.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. £89
These nine are all I would observe; for to
mention more, were but to perplex the reader.
The Oa, and Ee, will be better supplied in our
orthography by the accenting e in the end ; as in
brode, lode, cote, bote, quene.
Neither is the double ee to be thought on, but in derivatives; as trees, sees, and the like, where it is as two syllabes. As for eo, it is found but in three words in our tongue,
yeoman, people, jeopard. Which were truer written,
yeman, peple, jSpard.
And thus much shall suffice for the diphthongs.
The triphthong is of a complexion rather to be feared than loved, and would fright the young grammarian to see him : I therefore let him pass, and make haste to the notion —
CHAP. VI. OF THE SYLLABES.
A Syllabe is a part of a word that may of itself make a perfect sound ; and is sometimes of one only letter, which is always a vowel ; sometimes of more.
Of one, as in every first vowel in these words : a. a- bated. e. e-clipsed, i. i-magined. o. o-mitted. u. u-surped.
A syllabe of more letters is made either of vowels only, or of consonants joined with vowels. Of vowels only, as the diphthongs, ai, in ai-ding. aUj in au-stere. VOL. ix. U
290 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
ea, in ea-sic, ea-ting. ei, in ei-ry of hawks. ezv, in ezv-er, &c. and in the triphthong yea.
Of the vowels mixed ; sometimes but with one consonant, as to ; sometimes two, as try ; some- times three, as best ; or four, as nests ; or five, as stumps; otherwhile six, as the latter syllabe in restraints: at the most they can have but eight, as strengths.
Some syllabes, as
the, then, there, that, with, and which, are often compendiously and shortly written; as
e en ere t
y y y y
th ch
w and w
which whoso list may use; but orthography commands it not : a man may forbear it, without danger of falling into pramunire.
Here order would require to speak of the quantity of syllabes, their special prerogative among the Latins and Greeks ; whereof so much as is constant, and derived from nature, hath been handled already. The other, which grows by position, and placing of letters, as yet (not through default of our tongue, being able enough to re- ceive it, but our own carelessness, being negligent to give it) is ruled by no art. The principal cause whereof seemeth to be this ; because our verses and rhymes (as it is almost with all other people, whose language is spoken at this day) are natural, and such whereof Aristotle speaketh gjc ruv cwlw>%$iwrfuiTtt*) that is, made of ^natural
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
and voluntary composition, without regard to the quantity or syllabes.
This would ask a larger time and field than is here given for the examination : but since I am assigned to this province, that it is the lot of my age, after thirty years conversation with men, to be element arius scnev, I will promise and obtain so much of myself, as to give, in the heel of the book, some spur and incitement to that which I so reasonably seek/ Not that I would have the vulgar and practised way of making, abolished and abdicated (being both sweet anddelightful, and much taking the ear) but to the end our tongue may be made equal to those of the re- nowned countries Italy and Greece, touching that particular. And as for the difficulty, that shall never withdraw, or put me off from the attempt : for neither is any excellent thing done with ease, nor the compassing of this any whit to be despaired : especially when Quintilian hath observed to me, by this natural rhyme, that we have the other artificial, as it were by certain marks and footings, first traced and found out. And the Grecians themselves before Homer, as the Romans likewise before Livius Andronicus, had no other meters. Thus much therefore shall serve to have spoken concerning the parts of a word, in a letter and a syllabe.
It followeth to speak of the common affections, which unto the Latins, Greeks, and Hebrews, are two ; the accent and notation. And first,
J I will promise and obtain so much of myself, as to, &c.] <<; It may be considered as a loss to posterity, that it does not appear, he (Ben Jonson) ever performed the promise here made, with respect to adjusting the quantity of syllabes." Preface to Wiird's Essays upon the English Language, p. 5. WHAL.
292 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
CHAP. VII. OF THE ACCENT.
The accent (which unto them was a tuning of the voice, in lifting it up, or letting* it down) hath not yet obtained with us any sign; which not- withstanding were most needful to be added ; not wheresoever the force of an accent lieth, but where, for want of one, the svord is in danger to be mis - tuned , as in
abased^ excessive, besoted, obtain, ungodly, surrender. But the use of it will be seen much better by collation of words, that according unto the divers place of their accent, are diversly pronounced, and have divers significations. Such are the words following, with their like; as differ, defer ; desert, desert ; present, present ; refuse, refuse; object, object; incense, inctnse;
convert, convert ; torment, torment, &c. In original nouns, adjective or substantive, de- rived according to the rule of the writer of ana- logy, the accent is intreated to the first; as in fatherless, motherless, peremptory, haberdasher. Likewise in the adverbs,
brotherly, sisterly.
All nouns dissyllabic simple, in the first, as belief, honour, credit, silver, surety. All nouns trisyllabic, in the first ;
countenance, jeopardy, &c. All nouns compounded in the first, of how many syllabes soever they be ; as
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 293
tennis-court keeper, chimney-sweeper. Words simple in able, draw the accent to the first, though they be of four syllabes ; as
sociable, tolerable.
When they be compounded, they keep the same accent; as
insatiable, intolerable.
But in the way of comparison, it altereth thus: some men are sociable, others insociable ; some tolerable, others intolerable: for the accent sits on the syllabe that puts difference ; as
sincerity, insincerity.
Nouns ending in tion, or sion, are accented in ante-penultima ; as
condition, infusion, Sec. In ty, a La tints, in antepenultimd ; as
verity, charity, simplicity. In ence, in antepenultim& ; as
pestilence, abstinence, sustenance, consequence.
All verbs dissyllabes ending in er, el, ry, and ish, accent inprima; as
cover, cancel, carry, bury, Ifrvy, ravish, Sec.
Verbs made of nouns follow the accent of the nouns ; as
to blanket, to bdsquet.
All verbs coming from the Latin, either of the supine, or otherwise, hold the accent as it is found in the first person present of those Latin verbs ; as from
Animo, animate; celebro, celebrate. Except words compounded off ado ; as
liquefdcio, liquefie. And of statuo ; as
constituo, constitute.
294 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
All variations of verbs hold the accent in the same place as the theme,
I animate, thou cinirnatest, &c.
And thus much shall serve to have opened the fountain of orthography* Now let us come to the notation of a word.
CHAP. VIII.
THE NOTATION OF A WORD,
Is when the original thereof is sought out, and consisteth in two things, the kind and \hzjigure. The kind is to know whether the word be a primitive, or derivative : as
man, love, are primitives ;
manly, lover, are derivatives.
The Jigure is to know whether the word be simple, or compounded ; as
learned, say, are simple ; unlearned, gain-say, are compounded. In which kind of composition* our English tongue is above all other very hardy and happy, joining together, after a most eloquent manner, sundry words of every kind of speech; as mill-horse, lip-wise, stlj-love, twy -light, thereabout, not -wit h-st an ding , be- cause, cut -purse, never- the- less.
These are the common affections of a word : the divers sorts now follow. A word is of number, or without number. Of number that word is termed to be, which signifieth a number singular, or pluraL
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 295
Singular, which expresseth pne only thing ; as
tree, book, teacher.
Plural, when it expresseth more things than one ; as
trees, books, teachers.
Again, a word of number is Jinite or infinite. Finite which varieth his number with certain endings ; as
man, men; run, runs; horse, horses. Infinite, which varieth not; as
true, strong, running, &c, both in the singular and plural,
Moreover, a word of number is a noun or a verb. But here it were fit we did first number our words, or parts of speech, ofwhich our lan- guage consists.*
* Compositio.
Sape tria coagmentantur nomina; ut, a foot- ball player, a tennis-court-keeper.
Sccpissime duo substantiva ; ut9 hand-kerchief, rain-bow, eye-sore, table-napkin, head-ach,
Substantivum cum verbo ; ut, wood-bind. Pronomen cum subs t ant wo ; ut, self-love, r/a; self-freedom, avjovopta.
Verbum cum substantivo ; ut, a puff-cheek,
®>*. Draw-well, draw-bridge. Adjectivum cum substantivo; ut> New-ton, vectTro- ^. Handi-craft, %e^o<ro<p/#. Adverbium cum substantivo ; ut, down-fall. Adverbium cum participio ; ut, up-rising, down-
296 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
CHAP. IX. OF THE PARTS OF SPEECH.
In our English speech we number the same parts with the Latins.
Noun Adverb,
Pronoun, Conjunction,
Verb, Proposition,
Participle, Interjection.
Only we add a ninth, which is the article: and that is two-fold ,
Finite, i. e. relating to both numbers ; as the. Infinite, relating only to the singular ; as a. Thejinite is set before nouns appellatives ; as the horse, the horses ; the tree, the trees.
Proper names and pronouns refuse articles, except for emphasis sake ; as
the Henry of Henries, the only He of the town.
Where he stands for a noun, and signifies man. The infinite hath a power of declaring and de- signing uncertain or infinite things ; as
a man, a hou,se ; not a men, a houses. This article a answers to the German em, or the French or Italian articles, derived from one, not numeral, but prepositive ; as
a house, ein hause. Ger,
une maison. French, una casa. Italian.
The is put to both numbers, and answers to the German article, der, die, das. Save that it admits no inflection.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 297
CHAP. X.
OF THE NOUNS.
ALL nouns are words of number, singular or plural.
r common, -\ r substantive,
They arzlptvper, land are allj or I personal, J I adjective.
Their accidents are
gender, case, declension.
Of the genders there are six.
1. Masculine. First, the masculine, which compre-
hend eth all males, or what is un- derstood under a masculine species; as angels, men, stars: and (by prosopopoeia) the months, winds, almost all the'planets.
Second, thej'eminine, which com-
2. Feminine. priseth women, and female species ;
islands, countries, cities: and some rivers with us ; as
Severn, Avon, Sec.
3. Neuter. Third, the neuter, or feigned gen-
der : whose notion conceives nei- ther sex Minder which are comprised all inanimate things, a ship excepted : of whom we say, she sails well, though the name be Hercules, or Henry> or the Prince. As Terence called his co- medy Eunuchus, per vocabulum artis.
Fourth, the promiscuous, or epi-
4. Epicene. cene, which understandsboth kinds:
especially, when we cannot make the difference ; as, when we call them horses, and dogs, in the masculine, though there be bitches
298 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
and mares amongst them. So to fowls, for the most part, we use the feminine; as ok' eagles, hawks, we say, she flies well ; and call them geese, ducks, and doves, which they fly at, not distinguishing the sex.
Fifth, the common, or rather 5. Doubtful. doubtful gender, we use often, and
with elegance ; as in cousin, gossip, friend, neighbour, enemy, servant, thief, £c. including both sexes.
The sixth is, the common of three ThreT genders ; by which a noun is divi-
ded into substantive and adjective. For a substantive is a waw/j of one only gender, or (at the most) of two : and an adjective is a of three genders, being always infinite.
CHAP. XL OF THE DIMINUTION OF NOUNS.
The common affection of nouns is diminution. A diminutive is a noun noting the diminution of his primitive.
The diminution of substantives hath these four divers terminations.
El. part, parcel; cock, cockerel. Et. capon, caponet ; poke, pocket ; baron, ba- ronet.
Ock. hill, hillock ; bull, bullock. Ing. goose, gosling ; duck, duckling. So from the adjective, dear, darling. Many diminutives there are, which rather beabu- sions of speech, than any proper English words. And such for the most part are men's and women's
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
names: names which are spoken in a kind of flatterv, especially among familiar friends and lovers as
Richard, Dick; William, Will; Margery. Madge; Mary, MaL Diminution of adjectives is in this one end, ish; as
white, whitish ; green, greenish. After which manner certain adjectives of likeness are also formed from their substantives; as devil, devilish ; thief, thievish ; colt, coltish; elf, elvish.
Some nouns steal trie form of diminution, which neither in signification shew it, nor can derive it from a primitive; as
gibbet, doublet, peevish.
CHAR XII. OF COMPARISONS.
THESE then are the common affections both of substantives and adjectives : there follow certain others not general to them both, but proper and peculiar to each one. The proper affection there- fore of adjectives is comparison : of which, after the positive, there be two degrees reckoned, namely, the comparative, and the superlative.
The comparative is a degree declared by the positive with this adverb more; as wiser, or more wise.
The superlative is declared by the positive, with this adverb most; as
wisest, or most wise.
Both which d egrees are formed of the positive;
300 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
the comparative, by putting to er; the superlative, by putting to est ; as in these examples:
learned, learneder, learnedest ;
simple, simpler, simplest ;
true, truer, truest ;
black, blacker, blackest ;
From this general rule a few special words are excepted; as
good, better, best ;
ill, or bad, worse, worst ;
little, less, least;
much, more, most. Many words have no comparison ; as
reverend, puissant ;
victorious, renowned.
Others have both degrees, but lack the positive, as
former, foremost. Some are formed of adverbs ; as
wisely, wiselier, wiseliest ;
justly, justlier,justliest. Certain comparisons form out of themselves; as
less, lesser;
worse* worser.
CHAP. XIII. Of THE FIRST DECLENSION.
And thus much concerning the proper affection of adjectives : the proper affection of substantives foi- loweth ; and that consisteth in declining.
A declension is the varying of a noun substantive into divers terminations^ Where, besides the ab- solute, there is as it were a genitive case, made in the singular number, by putting to s.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 301
Of declensions there be two kinds : the first maketh the plural of the singular, by adding thereunto s; as
tree, trees; thing, things ; steeple, steeples.
So with s, by reason of the near affinity of these two letters, whereof we have spoken before: park, parks ; buck, bucks ; dwarf', dwarfs; path, paths; And in this jirst declension, the genitive plural is all one with the plural absolute ; as
athers.
General Exceptions. Nouns ending in z, s9 sh, g and ch, in the declining take to the genitive singular i, and to the plural e; as
so rose, bush, age, breech, &c. which distinctions not observed, brought in first the monstrous syntax of the pronoun his joining with a noun betokening a possessor; as the prince his house, for the prince's house.
Many words ending in diphthongs or vowels take neither % nor s, but only change their diph- thongs or vowels, retaining their last consonant, or one of like force ; as
mouse, mice or meece ; louse, lice or leecc ; goose, geese ; foot, feet ; tooth, teeth. "
Exception of number. Some nouns of thcjirst declension lack the plural ; as
rest, gold, silver, bread. Others the singular ; as
riches, goods. Many being in their principal signification
302 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
adjectives, are here declined, and in the plural stand instead of substantives ; as
other, others ; one, ones ;
hundred, hundreds ; thousand, thousands;
necessary, necessaries ; and such like.
CHAP. XIV. OF THE SECOND DECLENSION.
THE second declension formeth the plural from the singular, by putting to n ; which notwithstanding it have not so many nouns as hath the former, yet lacketh not his difficulty, by reason of sundry exceptions, that cannot easily be reduced to one general head : of this former is
o#, oxen; hose, hosen.
Exceptions. Man and woman, by a contraction, make men and women, instead of manen and wo- menen. Cow makes kine or keene : brother, for bre- theren, hath brethren, and brethern: child formeth the plural, by adding r besides the root ; for we say not childtn, which, according to the rule given before, is the right formation, but children, be- cause that sound is more pleasant to the ear.
Here the genitive plural (denoting the possessor) is made by adding s unto the absolute ; as child. 7 r>i (children.
Exceptions from both declensions. Some nouns (according to the different dialects of several parts of the country) have the plural of both declensions; as
house, houses and housen ;
eye, eyes and eyen ;
shooe, shooes and shooen.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 303
CHAP. XV. OF PRONOUNS.
A few irregular nouns, varying from the general precepts, are commonly termed pronouns; whereof the first four, instead of the genitive, have an ac- cusative case ; as
/, -\ r We. Thou, i . You
[PlurJ [PlurJ or
Me, J I Us. Thee, J I They.
He, she, that, all three make in the plural, they, them,
Four possessives : my, or mine : plural, our, ours. Thy, thine: plural, your, yours. His, hers, both in the plural making their, theirs.
The demonstratives : this : plural, these. That : plural, those. Yon, or yonder same.
Three interrogates , whereof one requiring both genitive and accusative, and taken for a sub- stantive : 'who ? whose ? whom ? The other two infinite, and adjectively used, what, whether.
Two articles, in gender and number infinite, which the Latins lack : a, the.
One relative, which : one other signifying a reciprocation, self : plural, selves.
Composition of pronouns is more common: my -self] our -selves, thy -self, your-selves. him- self, ^
her-self, > Plural, t hem-selves, it-self, 3
ITiis-same, that-same, yon-samej yonder-same, self* same.
304 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
CHAR XVI. OF A VERB.
Hitherto we have declared the whole etymology of nouns ; which in easiness and shortness, is much to be preferred before the Latins and the Grecians. It remaineth with like brevity, if it may be, to prosecute the etymology of a verb. A verb is a word of number, which hath both time and person. Time is the difference of a verb, by the present, past, and future, or to come. A verb finite therefore hath three only times, and those always imperfect.
The first is the present ; as
amo, I love. The second is the time past ; as
amabam, I loved. The third is t\\e future; as
Ama, amato : love, love. The other times both imperfect ; as
amem, amarem, amabo. And also perfect; as
amavi, amaverim, amaveram, amavissem, amavero, we use to express by a syntax, as shall be seen in the proper place.
The future is made of the present, and is the same always with it.
Of this future ariseth a verb infinite, keeping the same termination ; as likewise of the present, and the time past, are formed the participle pre- sent, by adding of ing ; as
love, loving. The other is all one with the time past.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 305
The passive is expressed by a syntax, like the time's going before, as hereafter shall appear*
A person is the special difference of a verbal number, whereof the present, and the time past, have in every number three.
The second and third person singular of the present ire made of the first, by adding est and eth ; which last is sometimes shortened into s.
The time past is varied, by adding in like manner in the second person singular est, and making the third like unto the first.
The ^future hath but only two persons, the se- cond and third ending both alike.
The persons plural keep the termination of the first person singular. In former times, till about the reign of king Henry the eighth, they were wont to be formed by adding en ; thus,
loven, sayen, complainen.
But now (whatsoever is the cause) it hath quite grown out of use, and that other so generally prevailed, that I dare not presume to set this afoot again : albeit (to tell you my opinion) I am persuaded that the lack hereof well consi- dered will be found a great blemish to our tongue. For seeing time and person be, as it were, the right and left-hand of zverb, what can the maim- ing bring else, but a lameness to the whole body?
And by reason of these two differences, averb is divided two manner of ways.
First, in respect of persons, it is called/) rsonal, or impersonal.
Personal, which is varied by three persons; as love, lovest, loveth.
Impersonal, which only hath the third person ; as bchoveth, irketh.
Secondly, in consideration of the times, we term it active, or neuter.
VOL. ix. X
306 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Active, whose participle past may be joined with the verb am ; as
/ am loved, thou art hated. Neuter, which cannot be so coupled ; as
pertain, die, live.
This therefore is the general forming of a verb, which must to every special one hereafter be applied.
CHAP. XVIL OF THE FIRST CONJUGATION.
The varying of a verb by persons and times, both finite and infinite, is termed a conjugation: whereof there be two sorts. The first fetcheth the time past from the present, by adding ed ; and is thus varied :
Pr, love, lovest, loveth. PL love, love, love. Pa. loved, loved' st, loved. PI. loved, loved, loved. Fu. love, love. PI. love, love.
Inf. love.
Part. pr. loving. Part. past, loved. Verbs are oft times shortened ; as sayest, saist ; would, tvou'd; should, shou'd: holpe, ho'pe. But this is more common in the leaving out of e; as
loved 'st, for lovedest ; rubb'd, rubbed; took'st, tookest. Exception of the time past, for ed, have d or t; as
Licked, lickt ; leaved, left ; Gaped, gap'd; blushed, blush' d.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 307
Some verbs ending in d, for avoiding the con- course of too many consonants, do cast it away ; as lend, lent ; spend, spent ; gird, girt.
Make, by a rare contraction, is here turned into made. Many verbs in the time past, vary not at all from the present ; such are cast, hurt, cost, burst, &c.
CHAP. XVIII. OF THE SECOND CONJUGATION.
AND so much for the first conjugation, being indeed the most useful forming of a verb, and thereby also the common finn to lodge every strange and foreign guest. That which folio weth, for any thing I can find, (though I have with some diligence searched after it) entertaineth none but natural and home-born words, which though in number they be not many, a hundred and twenty, or thereabouts ; yet in variation are so divers and uncertain, that they need much the stamp of some good logic to beat them into proportion. We have set down that, that in our judgment agreeth best with reason and good order. Which notwithstanding, if it seem to any to be too rough hewed, let him plane it out more smoothly, and I shall not only not envy it, but, in the behalf of my country, most heartily thank him for so great a benefit ; hoping that I shall be thought sufficiently to have done my part, if in tolling this bell, I may draw others to a deeper consideration of the matter: for, touch ing myself, I must needs confess, that after much painful churning, this only would come, which here we have devised.
X2
SOS THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
The second conjugation therefore turneth the present into the time past, by the only change of his letters, namely, of vowels alone, or consonants also.
Verbs changing vowels only, have no certain termination of the participle past, but derive it as well from the present, as the time past : and that other- while differing from either, as the examples following do declare.
The change of vowelsis, either of simple vowels, or of diphthongs ; whereof the first goeth by the order of vowels, which we also will observe.
An a is turned into oo.
Pres. shake, shakest.shaketh. PL shake, shake, shake. Past, shook, shookest, shook. PI. shook, shook, shook. Fut. shake, shake. PI. shake, shake.
Inf. shake.
Part. pre. shaking. Part. pa. shaken.
This form do the verbs take, wake, forsake, and hang, follow ; but hang in the time past maketh hung, not hangcn.
Hereof the verb am is a special exception, being thus varied :
Pr. am, art, is. PI. are, are, are ; or be, be, be, of the unused word, be, beest, bceth, in the sin- gular.
Past, was, wast, was; or, were, wert, were. PL were, were, were.
Fut. be, be. Plur. be, be.
Inf. be.
Part. pr. being.
Part. past. been.
Ea casteth away a, and maketh e short : Pr. lead. Past. led. Part. pa. led.
The rest of the times and persons, both singular and plural, in this and the other verbs that follow,
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 309
because they jump with the former examples and rules in every point, we have chosen rather to omit, than to thrust in needless words.
Such are the verbs, eat, beat, (both making participles past ; besides et and bet, or eaten and beaten) spread, dread, sweat, tread. Then a, or o, indifferently; Pr. break. Past, brake, or broke. Par. pa. broke, or broken.
Hither belong, speak, swear, tear, cleave, wear, steal, bear, shear, weave. So, get, and help ; but holpe is seldom used, save with the poets. i is changed into a. Pr. give.
Past. gave. Par. pa. given. So bid, and sit.
And here sometimes*' is turned intofl and o both. Pr. win.
Past, wan, or won. Par. pa* won.
Of this sort are Jling, ring, wring, sing, sting, stick, spin, strike, drink, sink, spring, begin, stink, shrink, swing, swim.
Secondly, verbs that have ce, lose one ; as Pr. feed.
Past. fed. Par. pa. fed.
Also meet, breed, bleed, speed. Or change them into o ; as Pr. seeth.
Past. sod. tar. pa. sod, or soden. Lastly, into aw ; as Pr. see.
Past. saw. Par. pa. seen.
310 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
O hath a.
Pr. come.
Past. came.
Par. pa. come. And here it may besides keep its proper vowel.
Pr. run.
Past, ran, or nw.
Par. pa. run* oo maketh o.
Pr. choose.
Past, c//0se.
Par. pa. chosen.
And one more, shoot, shot; in the participle past, shot, or shot ten.
Some pronounce theverfoby ihe diphthong ew> chetvse, shewt; and that is Scottish-like.
CHAP. XIX. OF THE THIRD CONJUGATION.
THE change of diphthongs is of ay,y, aw, and ow / all which are changed into ew.
{Pr. s/0y.
Past. slew. Par. pa. slain. rPr. /J/.
jq Past. ^ew. «- Par, pa. fawn.
{Pr, ^/r«w.
Past. drew. Par. pa. drawn. {Pr. foww.
Past. &wew. Pan pa. known.
v»
i
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 311
This last form cometh oftener than the three former ; as snow, grow, throw, blow, crow. Secondly ; some verbs in ite or ide, lose e; as Pr. bite.
Past. bit. Par. pa. bit, or bitten. Likewise, hide, quite, make hid, quit. So, shine, strive, thrive, change i into o in the time past ; as shone, strove, throve.
And as i severally frameth either e or o ; so may it jointly have them both. Pr. 7*lse.
Past. ris, rise, or rose. Par. pa. ris, rise, or risen. To this kind pertain, smite, write, bide, ride, climb, drive, chide, stride, slide; which make smlt, writ, bid, rid, climb, drive, chid, strld, slid; or smote, wrote, bode, rodet cldmb, drove, chod, strod, sldd.
Thirdly, i is sometimes changed into the diph- thongs ay and ou ; as
t Pr. lie.
ay A Past. lay.
I Par. pa. lien, or lain. fPr. jind.
ou.\ Past. found. I Par. pa. found.
So bind, grind, wind,fght, make bound, ground, wound, fought.
Last of all, aw and ow do both make e.
rPr. fall.
e.l Past. fell.
I Par. pa. fallen.
Such is the verb, fraught ; which Chaucer, in the Man of Law's Tale :
This merchants have done, freight their ships new.
812 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
rPr. hold.
oJPast. held.
C Par. pa. held, or holden. Exceptions of the time past. Some that are of the jirst conjugation only, have in the participle past, besides their own, the form of the second, and the third ; as hew, hewed, and hewn, mow, mowed, and mowen. load, loadd, and loaden.
CHAP. XX. OF THE FOURTH CONJUGATION.
VERBS that convey the time past for the present, by the change both of vowels and consonants, following the terminations of the Jirst conjugation, end in d, or t.
Pr. stand.
Pa. stood.
Such are these words,
Pr. will, wilt, will.
Pa. would, wouldest, would.
Fut. will, will.
The infinite times are not used. Pr. (can. canst, can. Pa. t cold,* or could. Fut. c shall, shalt, shall. Pa. 1 should.
The other frVwas of either verb are lacking. Pr. < hear. Pa. 1 heard. Pr. Pa.
a An old English word, for which now we commonly use shall, or shatoll.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 313
So tell, told.
Of the other sort are these, and such like. Pr, c/eei Pa. Ifelt.
So creep, sleep, weep, keep, sweep, mean. Pr. c teach. Pa. i taught.
To this form belong think, retch, seek, reach, catch, bring, work; and buy and owe, which make bought and ought.
Pr. f dare, darest, dare. Pa. t durst, durst durst. Pr. ^^may, may st, may. Pa. 1 might, mightest, might. These two verfo want the other fi'ftz&f. A general exception from the former conju- gations. Certain verbs have the form of either conjugation ; as
hang, hanged, and hung. So cleave, shear, sting^ climb, catch9 &c.
CHAP. XXI. OF ADVERBS.
THUS much shall suffice for the etymology of words that have number, both in a noun and a verb : whereof the former is but short and easy; the other longer, and wrapped with a great deal more difficulty. Let us now proceed to the ety- mology of words without number.
A word without number is that which without his principal signification iioteth not any number. Whereof there be two kinds, an adverb and a conjunction.
314 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
An adverb is a word without number that is joined to another word ; as well learned, hejighteth valiantly, he disputeth very subtlely.
So that an adverb is as it were an adjective of nouns, verbs, yea, and adverbs also themselves.
Adverbs are either of quantity, or quality. Of Quantity; as
enough, too-much, altogether. Adverbs of quality be of divers sorts : First, of number; as once, twice, thrice. Secondly, of time; as to-day, yesterday, then,
by and by, ever, when,
Thirdly, of place; as here, there, where, yonder. Fourthly, in affirmation, or negation ; as
/, or ay, yes, indeed, no, not, nay. Fifthly, in wishing, calling, and exhorting: Wishing ; as O, if. Calling ; as ho, sirrah. Exhorting ; as so, so; there, there. Sixthly, in similitude and likeness; as
so, even so, likewise, even as. To this place pertain all adverbs of quality what- soever, being formed from nouns, for the most part, by adding ly ; as
just. justly ; true, truly; strong, strongly ; name, namely. Here also adjectives, as well positive as compared, stand for adverbs ;
When he least thinketh, soonest shall he fall. Interjections^ commonly so termed, are in right adverbs, and therefore may justly lay title to this room. Such are these that follow, with their like: as
ah, alas, woe, jie, tush, ha, ha, he.
st, a note of silence : Rr, that servcth to
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 315
set dogs together by the ears: hrr, to chase birds away.
Prepositions are also a peculiar kind of adverbs, and ought to be referred hither. Prepositions are separable or inseparable.
Separable are for the most part of time and place; as
among, according, without,
afore, after, before, behind,
under upon, beneath, over,
against, besides near.
Inseparable prepositions are they which signify nothing, if they be not compounded with some other words ; as
re, un, in release, unlearned.
CHAP. XXII. CONJUNCTIONS.
A conjunctions a word without number, knitting divers speeches together: and is declaring, or reasoning. Declaring, which utiereth the parts of a sentence : and that again is gathering, or sepa- rating. Gathering* whereby the parts are affirmed to be true together : which is coupling, or condi- tioning. Coupling, when the parts are severally affirmed; as
and, also, neither.
Conditioning, by which the part following de- pendeth, as true, upon the part going before ; as if, unless, except.
A separating conjunction is that whereby the parts (as being not true together) are separated ; and is
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
severing,
or
sundring.
Severing, when the parts are separated only in a certain respect or reason ; as
but) although, notwithstanding. Sundring, when the parts are separated indeed, and truly, so as more than one cannot be true ; as
either, whether, or.
Reasoning conjunctions are those which conclude one of the parts by the other ; whereof some render a reason, and some do infer,
Rendering are such as yield the cause of a thing going before ; as
for, because.
Inferring, by which a thing that cometh after, is concluded by the former ; as therefore, wherefore> so that, insomuch that.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 317
THE
SECOND BOOK
OF THE
ENGLISH GRAMMAR,
OF SYNTAX.
CHAP. I. OF APOSTROPHUS.
As yet we have handled etymology, and all the parts thereof. Let us come to the consideration of the syntax.
Syntax is the second part of grammar, that teacheth the construction of words ; whereunto apostrophusf an affection of words coupled and joined together, doth belong,
Apostrophus is the rejecting of a vowel from the beginning or ending of a word. The note whereof, though it many times, through the negligence of writers and printers, is quite omitted, yet by right should, and of the learn- eder sort hath his sign and mark, which is such a semi-circle (') placed in the top.
In the end a vowel may be cast away, when
* The Latins and H«br«ws haie none.
318 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
theword next following beginneth with another ; as,
Th9 outward man decay eth ;
So th* inward man get t eth strength.
If ly utter such words of pure love, and friendship,
What then may we look for, if y once begin to
hate f
Gower, lib. 1. de Confess. Amant, Ifthou'rt of his company, tell forth, my son, It is time f awake from sleep.
Vowels suffer also this apostrophes before the consonant h.
Chaucer, in the 3d book of Troilus. For of fortune's sharp adversitie* The worst kind of'unfortune is this : A man t' have been in prosperitie, And it to remember when it passed is.
The first kind then is common with the Greeks ; but that which followeth, is proper to us, which though it be not of any, that I know, either in writing or printing, usually expressed : yet con- sidering that in our common speech nothing is more familiar (upon the which all precepts are grounded, and to the which they ought to be referred) who can justly blame me, if, as near as I can, I follow nature's call.
This rejecting, therefore, is both in vowels and consonants going before :
There is nojire^ there is no sparke, There is no dore, which may charke.
Gower, lib. iv.
Who answered, that he was not privy to it.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 319
and in excuse seem' d to be very sore displeased with the' matter, that his men of war had done it, without his commandement or consent.
CHAP. II.
Or THE SYNTAX OF ONE NOUN WITH ANOTHER,
Syntax appertained!, both to words of number, and without number, where the want and super- fluity of any part of speech are two general and common exceptions. Of the former kind of syn- tax is that of a noun, and verb.
The syntax of a noun, with a noun, is in num- ber and gender ; as
Esau could not obtain his father's blessing, though he sought it with tears.
Jezabel was a wicked woman, for she skw the Lord's prophets.
An idol is no God, for it is made with hands.
In all these examples you see Esau and he, Jexabel and she, idol and it, do agree in the sin- gular number. The first example also in the masculine gender, the second in the feminine, the third in the neuter. And in this construction (as also throughout the whole English syntax) order and the placing of words is one special thing to be observed. So that when a substantive and an adjective are immediately joined together, the adjective must go before ; as
320 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Plato shut poets out of his commonwealth, as effeminate writers, unprofitable members, and enemies to virtue.
When two substantives come together, whereof one is the name of a possessor, the other of a thing possessed, then hath the name of a possessor the former place, and that in the genitive :
All man's righteousness is like a defiled cloth.
Gower, lib. 1 :
An owlflieth by night,
Out 0/ all other birds sight.
But if the thing possessed go before, then doth the preposition of come between :
Ignorance is the mother of Error.
Gower, lib.
So that it proveth well therefore The strength of man is sone lore.
Which preposition may be coupled with the thing possessed, being in the genitive.
Nort. in Arsan.
A road made into Scanderbech's country by the duke of Mysia's men : for, the men of the duke of Mysia.
Here the absolute serveth sometimes instead of a genitive :
All trouble is light , which is endured for right- eousness sake ; i, e. for the sake of right- eousness.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR, 321
Otherwise two substantives are joined together by apposition.
Sir Thomas More, in king Richard's story : George duke of Clarence, was a prince at all points fortunate.
Where if both be the names of possessors, the latter shall be in the genitive.
Fox, in the <2d volume of Acts and Monuments : King Henry the eighth, married with the lady Katherine his brother, prince Arthur's, wife.
The general exceptions : The substantive is often lacking. Sometime without small things, greater cannot stand: \. e. greater things, &c. Sir Thomas More.
The verb is also often wanting :
Chaucer :
For some folk woll be won for riches , And some folk for strokes, and some folk for gentleness :
Where woll be won once expressed, serves for the three parts of the sentence. Likewise the adjective :
It is hard in prosperity to preserve true religion, true godliness, and true humility.
Lidgate, lib. 8, speaking of Constantine, That whilome had the divination As chief monarch^ chief prince, and chief president Over all the world, from east to Occident*
But the more notable lack of the adjectives is the want b of the relative ;
b In Greek and Latin this want were barbarous : the He- brews notwithstanding use it. VOL. JX. Y
322 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
In the things which we least mistrust, the great- est danger doth often lurk, Gower, lib, 2 :
For thy the wise men ne demen
The things after that there they semen ;
But, after that, which they know, andjind.
Psal. 118, 22. The stone the builders refused: for, which the builders refused.
And here, besides the common wanting of a substantive, whereof we spake before : there is another more special, and proper to the absolute, and the genitive.
Chaucer, in the 3d book of Fame. This is the mother oj tidings. As the sea is mother of wells, and is mother of springs.
Rebecca clothed Jacob with garments of his brothers.
Superfluity also of nouns is much used :
Sir Thomas More : Whose death king Edward (although he commanded it) when he wist it was done, pitiously bewailed it, and sorrow- fully repented it.
Chaucer, in his Prologue to the Man of Law's
Tale:
Such law, as a man ytveth another wight, He should himself usen it by right. Gower, lib. 1 :
For, ivhcso woll another blame, He seeketh oft his own shame.
Special exceptions, and first of number. Two singulars are put for one plural :
All authority and custom of men, exalted
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 3*3
against the word of God, must yield themselves prisoners. Gower:
In thine aspect are all alich,
'The poor man, and eke the rich.
The second person plural is for reverence sake to one singular thing :
Gower, lib. 1 :
0 good father dear,
Why make ye this heavy chear.
Where also after a verb plural, the singular of the noun is retained :
/ know you are a discreeland faithful man, and therefore am come to ask your advice.
Exceptions of Genders.
The articles he and it, are used in each other's gender.
Sir Thomas More : The south wind sometime swelleth of himself before a tempest.
Gower, of the Earth:
And for thy men it delve, and dtch, And earen it, with strength of plough : Where it hath of himself enough) So that his need is least.
It also followeth for the feminine : Gower, lib, 4 : He swore it should nought be let, That, if she have a daughter bore, That it ne should beforlore.
Y2
9.84 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
CHAP. III. OF THB SYNTAX OF A PRONOUN WITH A NOUN.
THE articles a and the are joined to substantives common, never to proper names of men.
William Lambert in the Perambulation of Kent: The cause only, and not the death maketh a martyr.
Yet, with a proper name used by a metaphor, or borrowed manner of speech, both articles may be coupled :
Who so avoucheth the manifest and known truth, ought not therefore to be called a Goliah, that is a monster, and impudent fellow, as he was.
Jewel against Harding:
Ton have adventured your self to be the noble David to conquer this giant.
Nort. in Arsan.
And if ever it was necessary, now it zs, when many an Athanasius, many an Atticus, many a noble prince, and godly personage lieth pros- trate at your feet for succour.
Where this metaphor is expounded. So, when the proper name is used to note one's parentage, which kind of nouns the grammarians call patro- nymics:
Nort.inGabrieFsOration to Scanderbech : For you know well enough the wiles of the Ot- tomans.
Perkm Warbeck, a stranger born, feigned himself to be a Plantagcnet.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 325
When a substantive and an adjective are joined together, these articles are put before the adjec- tive:
A. good conscience is a continual J "east. Gower, lib. ].
For false semblani hath evermore Of his counsel in company, The dark untrue hypocrisy.
Which construction in the article «, notwith- standing, some adjectives will not admit:
Sir Tho. More ;
Such a serpent is ambition^ and desire of vain- glory.
Chaucer :
Under a shepherd false , and negligent,
The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to rent.
Moreover both these articles are joined to any cases of the Latins, the vocativeonly excepted; as, A man saith. The strength of a. man. I sent to a man. I hurt a. man. / was sued by a man.
Likewise, The apostle testifiith : the zeal of the apostle : give ear to the apostle : follow the apostle : depart not from the apostle,
So that in these two pronouns, the whole con- struction almost of the Latins is contained. Th* agreeth to any number ; a only to the singular, save when it is joined with those adjectives which do of necessity require a plural :
The conscience is a thousand witnesses.
Lidgate, lib. 1 :
Though for a season they sit in high chears, Their fame shall fade within a few years.
A, goeth before words beginning with conso-
326 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
nants ; and before all vowels (diphthongs, whose first letter is y or w9 excepted) it is turned into an:
Sir Thomas More :
For men use to write an evil turn in marble stone ;
but a good turn they wrile in the dust. Gower, lib. 1 :
For all shall die ; and all shall pass
As well a lion as an ass.
So may it be also before h.
Sir Thomas More :
What mischief worketh the proud enter prize of an high heart ?
A hath also the force of governing before a noun :
Sir Thomas More :
And the protecter had layd to her for manner sake, that she was a council with the lord Hastings to destroy him. Chaucer, 2d book of Troilus :
And on his way fast homeward he sped, And Troilus he found alone in bed.
Likewise before the participle present, #, an have the force of a gerund.
Nort. in Arsan.
But there is some great tempest a brewing towards us.
Lidgate, lib. 7 :
The king was slain, and ye did assent^ In a forest an hunting, when that he went.
The article the, joined with the adjective of a noun proper, may follow after the substantive :
Chaucer.— There chanticleer the fair
Was wont, and eke his wives to repair.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. S27
Otherwise it varieth from the common rule. Again, this article by a synecdoche doth restrain a general, and common name to some certain and special one :
Gower, in his Prologue :
The Apostle writeth unto us all. And saith) that upon us is foil TK end of the world :
for Paul. So by the philosopher, Aristotle; by the poet, among the Grecians, Homer; with the Latins, Virgil^ is understood.
This and that being demonstratives ; and -what the interrogative, are taken for substantives :
Sir John Cheek, in his Oration to the Rebels: Te rise for religion : what religion taught you that?
Chaucer, in the Reve's Tale :
And this is very sooth, as I you tell.
Ascham, in his discourse of the affairs of Ger- many:
A wonderful folly in a great man himself, and some piece of misery in a whole commonwealth, where fools chiefly and flatter ersy may speak freely what they will ; and good men shall
commonly be shent, if they speak what they
should.
What) also for an adverb of partition :*
Lambert :
But now, in our memory, what by the decay of the haven, and what by overthrow of religious houses^ and loss of Calice, it is brought in a manner to miserable nakedness and decay.
c In the other tongues, quid, ri, ha?e not the force of parti- o n, nor illud, IxeTvo, of a relative.
328 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Chaucer, 3d book of Troilus:
Then wot I well, she might never fail. For to been holpen, what at your instance, What at your other friends governance.
That is used for a relative :
Sir John Cheek :
Sedition is an aposteam, which, when it breaketh inwardly, pulteth the slate in great danger of recovery; and corrupteth the whole common- wealth with the rotten fury, that it hath pu- trified with. For, with which.
They, and those, are sometimes taken, as it were, for articles :
Fox, 2d volume of Acts, &c.
That no kind of disquietness should be procured
against them of Bern and Zurick. Gower, lib. 2 :
My brother hath us all sold
To them of Rome.
The pronoun, these, hath a rare use, being taken for an adjective of similitude: It is neither the part of an honest man to tell these tales; nor of a wise man to receive them.
Lidgate, lib. 5 :
Lo, how these princes proud and retchless, Have shameful ends, which cannot live in peace.
Him, and them, be used reciprocally for the compounds, himself, themselves.
A
Fox : The garrison desired that they might depart mth bag and baggage.
Chaucer, in the Squire's Tale : So deep in grain he dyed his colours, Right as a serpent hideth him under flowers.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 329
His, their, and theirs, have also a strange use ; that is to say, being possessives, they serve in- stead of primitives :
Chaucer :
- And shortly so far forth this thing went. That my will was his will's instrument.
Which in Latin were a solecism : for there we should not say, sua voluntatis, but voluntatis ipsius.
Pronouns have not the articles, a and the going before ; the relatives, which, self, and same only excepted : The same lewd cancred carle, practiseth nothing, but how he may overcome and oppress the faith of Christ, for the which, you, as you know, have determined to labour and travel continually.
The possessives, my, thy, our, your, and their, go before words ; as my land, thy goods ; and so in the rest : mine, thine, ours, yours, hers, and theirs, follow as it were in the genitive case ; as, these lands are mine, thine, Sec.
His doth infinitely go before, or follow after: as, his house is a fair one; and, this house is his.
CHAP. IV.
OF THE STNTAX OP ADJECTIVES.
Adjectives of quality are coupled with pronouns accusative cases.
Chaucer :
And he was wise, hardy, secret, and rich, Of these three points, nas none himlych.
330 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Certain adjectives include a partition : From the head doth life and mot ion flow to the rest of the members.
The comparative agreeth to the parts com- pared, by adding this preposition, than:d
Chaucer, 3d book of Fame : What did /his jEolus, but he Took out his black trump of brass. That blacker than the divel was.
The superlative is joined to the parts compared by this preposition of.
Gower, lib. 1 :
Pride is of every miss the prick:
Pride is the most vice of all wick. Jewel :
The friendship of truth is best of all.
Oftentimes both degrees are expressed by these two adverbs, more, and most: as more excel- lent, most excellent. Whereof the latter seemeth to have his proper place in those that are spoken in a certain kind of excellency, but yet without comparison : Hector was a most valiant man ; that is, inter fortissimo s.
Furthermore, these adverbs, more and most, are added to the comparative and superlative degrees themselves, which should be before the positive :
Sir Thomas More :
Forasmuch as she saw the cardinal more readier to depart than the remnant ; for not only the high dignity of the civil magistrate, but the most basest handicrafts are holy, when they are directed to the honour of God.
* The Latins comparative governeth an ablative ; their su- perlative a genitive plural. The Greeks both comparative and superlative hath a genitive; but in neither tongue is a sign going between.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 331
And this is a certain kind of English atticism, or eloquent phrase of speech, imitating the man- ner of the most ancientest and finest Grecians, who, for more emphasis and vehemencies sake, used so to speak.
Positives are also joined with the preposition of, like the superlative :
Elias was the only man of all the prophets that
was left alive. Gower, lib. 4 :
The Jirst point of sloth I call Lachesse, and is the chief of all.
CHAP. V.
OF THE SYNTAX or A VERB WITH A NOUN.
Hitherto we have declared the syntax of a noun : the syntax of a verb followeth, being either of a verb with a noun, or of one verb with another.
The syntax of a verb with a noun is in number and person ; as
/ am content. Ton are mis-informed.
Chaucer's 2d book of Fame : For, as flame is but lighted smoke; Right so is sound ayry broke.
I myself^ and ourselves, agree unto thefirst^r- son:you,thou, it, thyself, yourselves, the second: all other nouns and pronouns (that are of any person) to the third. Again, /, we, thou, he, she, they, who, do ever govern ; unless it be in the verb am, that requircth the like case after it as is before it,
332 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
me, us, thee, her, them, him, whom, are governed of the verb. The rest, which are absolute, may ei- ther govern, or be governed.
A verb impersonal in Latin is here expressed by an English impersonal, with this article it going before ; as oportet, it behoveth ; decet, it becometh. General exceptions :
The person governing is oft understood by that went before: True religion glorifieth them that honour it ; and is d target unto them that are a buckler unto it.
Chaucer :
Womens counsels brought usjirst to woe, And made Adarn/rcw Paradise to go.
But this is more notable, and also more common in the future; wherein for the most part we never express any person, not so much as at the first : Fear God) honour the king.
Likewise the verb is understood by some other going before :
JJort. in Arsan.
When the danger is most great, natural strength most feeble, and divine aid most needful.
Certain pronouns, governed of the verb, do here abound.
Sir Thomas More:
And this I ^f although they were not abused,
as now they be, and so long have been, that I
fear me ever they will be. Chaucer, 3d book of Fame :
And as I wondred me,ywis
Upon this house. Idem in Thisbe :
She rist her up with a full dreary heart :
And in cave with dreadful fate she start.
Special exceptions,
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 333
Nouns signifying a multitude, though they be of the singular number, require a verb plural.
Lidgate, lib. 2 :
And wise men rehearsen in sentence
Where folk be drunken, there is no resistance.
This exception is in other nouns also very common ; especially when the verb is joined to an adverb or conjunction: // is preposterous to execute a man, before he have been condemned.
Gawer, lib. 1 :
Although a man be wise himselve^
Yet is the wisdom more of twelve. Chaucer :
Therefore I read you this counsel take,
Forsake sin, ere sin you forsake.
In this exception of number, the verb sometime agreeth not with the governing noun of the plural number 9 as it should, but with the noun governed : as Riches is a thing oft-times more hurtful than profitable to the owners. After which manner the Latins also speak : Omnia pontus erat. The other special exception is not in use.e
CHAP. VL
OF THE SYNTAX OF A VERB WITH A VERB.
WHEN two verbs meet together, whereof one is governed by the other, the latter is put in the
* Which notwithstanding the Hebrews use vary strangely : Kullain tazubu ulouna, J*b. 17, 10. All the/ return ye and come now.
334 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
infinite, and that with this sign to, coming be- tween ; as, Good mm ought to join together in good things.
But will, doy may, can, shall, dare, (when it is in transitive) must and let, when it signifies a suf- ferance, receive not the sign.
Gower: To God no man may be fellow. This sign set before an infinite, not governed of a verb, changeth it into the nature of a noun. Nort. in Arsan.
To win is the benefit 0/ for tune: but to keep is
the power of wisdom. General exceptions, The verb governing is understood : Nort. in Arsan :
For if the head, which is the life and stay of the
body, betray the members, must not the members
also needs betray one another ; and so the
whole body and head go altogether to utter
wreck and destruction ?
The other general exception is wanting/
The special exception. Two verbs, have and
am, require always a participle past without any
sign: as /am pleased; thou art hated. Save when
they import a necessity or conveniency of doing
any thing : in which case they are very eloquently
joined to the infinite,* the sign coming between :
By the example of Herod, all princes are to take heed how they give ear to flatterers.
f So in the Greek and Latin, but in Hebrew this exception it often, Esai. ?i. 9; which Hebraism the New Testament is wont to retain by turning the Hebrew infinite either into a verbal, axojf ctxoucrele, Matth. xiii. 14 ; or participle, ftwv gTSov, Act» ?ii. 34.'
• A phrase proper unto our tongue, save that the Hebrews seem to have the former. Job. xx.23. When he is to Jill his bdty.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 335
Lidgate, lib. 1 :
Truth and falseness in what they haveV0«<?, May no while assemble in one person.
And here those times, which in etymology we remembered to be wanting, are set forth by the syntax of verbs joined together. The syntax of imperfect times in this manner.
The presents by the infinite, and the verb, may, or can; as for amem, amarem; I may love, /might lore. And again; /can love, /could love.
The futures are declared by the infinite, and the verb shall, or will; as amabo, I shall or will love.
Amavero addeth thereunto have, taking the nature of two divers times; that is, of the future and the lime past.
I shall have loved: or I will have loved.
The perfect times are expressed by the verb have; as
amavi, amaveram. /have loved, /had loved.
Amaverim, and amavissem add might unto the former verb ; as
/ might have loved. The infinite past, is also made by adding have; as
amavisse, to have loved.
Verbs passive are made of the participle past, and am the verb; amor and amabar, by the only putting to of the verb ; as amor, I am lovtd; amabar, I was /0*Y*/.
^mer, and amarer have it governed of the verb may or can ; as
, / may be loved; or / can be loved. ) I might be loved, or / could be loved.
336 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
In amabor it is governed of shall, or will; as I shall, or *ft//*be loved.
CHAP. VII. OF THE SYNTAX OF ADVERBS.
THIS therefore is the syntax of words, having number ; there remaineth that of words without number, which standeth in adverbs or conjunctions. Adverbs are taken one for the other ; that is to say, adverbs of likeness, for adverbs of time ; As he spake those words, he gave up the ghost.
Gower, lib. 1 :
Anone, as he was meek and tame, He found towards his God the same.
The like is to be seen in adverbs of time and place, used in each others stead, as among the Latins and the Grecians.
Nort. in Arsan.
Let us not be ashamed to follow the counsel and ex- ample of our enemies, where it may do us good.
Adverbs stand instead of relatives :
Lid gate, lib. 1 :
And liltle worth is fairness in certain In a person, where no virtue is seen. Nort. to the northern rebels :
Few women storm against the marriage of priests, but such as have been priests harlots, or fain would be.
Chaucer in his ballad : But great God disposeth,
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 337
And maketh casual by his providence Such things as frail man purposeth. For those things, which.
Certain adverbs in the syntax of a substantive and an adjective meeting together, cause a, the article, to follow the adjective.
Sir John Cheek :
0 ! with what spite was sundred so noble a body
from so godly a mind. Jewel :
// is too light a labour to strive for names. Chaucer :
Thou art at ease, and hold thee wel therein.
As great a praise is to keep well, as win.
Adjectives compared,11 when they are used ad- verbially, may have the article the going before.
Jewel :
The more inlarged is your liberty; the less cause have you to complain.
Adverbs are wanting.
Sjr Thomas More :
And how far be they off that would help, as God send grace, they hurt not; for, that they hurt not.
Oftentimes they are used without any neces- sity, for greater vehemency sake ; as, then, after- ward, again, once more.
Gower : He saw also the bowes spread Above all earth, in which were The kind of all birds there.
h The Greek article is set before the positive also : Theocrit. 1*5. y. TiVug', £fuv TO xa^ov «r£<p»Aajw,ev>j. VOL, IX. Z
338 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Prepositions are joined with the accusative cases of pronouns. l
Sir Thomas More :
I exhort and require you , for the love that yon have born to me, and for the lore that I have born to you, and for the love that our Lord beareth to us all.
Gower, lib. 1 :
For Lucifer, with them that fell. Bare pride with him into hell.
They may also be coupled with the possessives : mine, thine, ours.yours, his, tiers, theirs.
Nort. to the rebels :
Think you her majesty, and the wisest of the realm, have no care of their own souls, that have charge both of their own and yours ?
These prepositions folio wk sometimes the nouns they are coupled with : God hath made princes their subjects guides, to direct them in the way, which they have to walk in.
But ward, or wards ; and toward, or towards, have the same syntax that versus and adversus have with the Latins ; that is, the latter coming after t-he noun, which it governeth, and the other contrarily.
Nort. in Paul Angel's Oration to Scanderbech : For his heart being unclean to G0*/ward, and spiteful, towards men, doth always imagine mischief.
'' In Greek and Latin they are coupJed ; some with one ob- lique ease, some with another.
k The Hebrews set them always before.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 539
Lidgate, lib. 7 :
And south- ward runneth to Caucasus, And folk of Scy thie, that bene laborious.
Now as before in two articles a and the, the whole construction of the Latins was contained ; so their whole rection is by prepositions near-hand declared : where the preposition of hath the force of the genitive, to of the dative ; from, of, in, by\ and such like of the ablative : as, the praise of God Be thankful to God. Take the cock of the hoop. I was saved from you, by you, in your house*
Prepositions matched with the participle present,1 supply the place of gerunds ; as in loving, of loving, by loving, with loving, from loving, &c.
Prepositions do also govern adverbs.m
Lidgate, lib. 9 :
Sent from above, as she did understand.
General exceptions : divers prepositions are very often wanting, whereof it shall be sufficient to give a taste in those, that above the rest are most worthy to be noted.
Of, in an adjective of partition :
Lidgate, lib. 5 :
His lieges eche one being of one assent To live and die with him in his intent.
The preposition touching, concerning, or Some such like, doth often want, after the manner of the Hebrew Lamed :
1 The like nature in Greek and Hebrew have prepositions matched with the infinite, as Iv TOO aya-Trav.
m This in Hebrew is very common : from now, that is, from this time; whence proceed those Hebraisms in the JVew Testament otiro TOTS, faro TOU voy, &Ct
Z2
340 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Gower :
The privates of man's heart. They speaken, and sound in his ear. As though they loud winds were.
Riches and inheritance they be given by God's provi* dence^ to whom of his wisdom he thinketh good : for touching riches and heritance, or some such like preposition.
If) is somewhat strangely lacking :
Nort. in Arsan.
Unwise are they that end their matters wilh, Had I wist.
Lidgate* lib. 1 :
For ne were not this prudent ordinance. Some to obey, and above to gye Destroyed were all worldly policy.
The superfluity of prepositions is more rare:
Jewel ;
The whole university and city of Oxford. Gower :
So that my lord touchend of this,
I have answered, how that it is.
€HAP. VIII. OF THE SYNTAX OF CONJUNCTIONS.
The syntax of conjunctiens is in order only ; nei- ther and either are placed in the beginning of words ; uor and or coming after.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. S41
Sir Thomas More :
He can be no sanctuary -man, that hath neither discretion to desire it, nor malice to deserve if.
Sir John Cheek :
Either by ambition you seek lordliness, much
unfit fot you; or by covetousness, ye be un-
satiable, a thing likely enough in you, or else
by folly, ye be not content with your estate , a
fancy to be pluckt out of you.
Lid gate, lib. 2 :
Wrong, clyming up of states and degrees , Either b^ murder •, or by false treasons Asketh a Jail, for their final guerdons*.
Here, for nor in the latter member, ne is some- times used : Lambert :
But the archbishop set himself against it, affirm- ing plainly, that he neither could, ne would suffer it.
The like syntax is also to be marked in so, and as, used comparatively; for, when the comparison is in quantity, then so goeth before, and as fol- loweth. Ascham :
He hateth himself \ and hasteth his own hurt, that is content to hear none so gladly •, as. either a fool or a flatterer*
Gower, lib. 1 : Men wist in thilk time none So fair a wight, as she was one,
Sometime for so, as cometh in.
Chaucer, lib. 5. Troil.
And said, lam, albeit to you no joy , As gentle a man, as any wight in Troy,
342 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
But if the comparison be in quality , then it is contrary. Gower :
For, as the fish, if it be dry
Mote in default of water dye :
Right so without air, or lire,
JV*o man, ne beast, rni^ht thrive.
And, in the beginning of a sentence, serveth instead of an admiration : And, what a notable sign of patience was it in Job, not to murmur against the Lord!
Chaucer, 3d book of Fame:
What, quoth she, and be ye wood.' And, wene ye for to do good, And,jfor to have of that no fame'
Conjunctions of divers sorts are taken one for another : as, But, a severing conjunction, for a con- ditioning:
Chaucer in the Man of Law's Tale : But it were with the ilk eyen of his mind, With which men seen' after they ben blind.
Sir Thomas More :
Which neither can they havet but you give it; neither can you give it> if ye agree not.
The self- same syntax is in and, the coupling con- junction ;
The Lord JBerners in the Preface to his Trans- lation of Fro is art :
What knowledge should we have of ancient things past, and history were not.
Sir John Cheek :
Te have waxed greedy now upon cities, and have attempted mighty spoils, to glut up, could, your wasting hunger.
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
On the other side, for, a cause-renderer, hath sometime the force of a severing one.
Lidgate, lib. 3.
But it may fall a Drewry in his right, To outrage a giant for all his great might.
Here the two general exceptions are termed, Asyndeton, and Polysyndeton.
Asyndeton, when the conjunction wanteth :
The universities of Christendom are the eyes, the lights, the leaven, the salt, the seasoning of the world.
Gower :
To whom her heart cannot heal, Turn it to woe, turn it to weal. Here the sundering conjunction, or, is lacking, and in the former example, and, the coupler.
Polysyndeton is in doubling the conjunction more than it need to be :
Gower, lib. 4 :
So, whether that he frieze, or sweat> Or 'tte be in, or 'He be out, He will be idle all about.
CHAP. IX. OF THE DISTINCTION OF SENTENCES.
ALL the parts of Syntax have already been de- clared. There resteth one general affection of the whole, dispersed thorough every member thereof, as the blood is thorough the body ; and consisteth in the breathing, when we pronounce any sentence. For, whereas our breath is by nature
344 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
so short, that we cannot continue without a stay to speak long together ; it was thought necesary as well for the speaker's ease, as for the plainer deliverance of the things spoken, to invent this means, whereby men pausing a pretty while, the whole speech might never the worse be under- stood.
These distinctions, are cither of a perfect, or imperfect sentence. The distinctions of an impfr- fect sentence are two, a comma, and a semicolon.
A comma is a mean breathing, when the word serveth indifferently, both to the parts of the sentence going before, and following after, and is marked thus (,)
A semicolon is a distinction of an imperfect sen- tence, wherein with somewhat a longer breath, the sentence following is included; and is noted thus (;).
Hither pertaineth a parenthesis^ wherein two commas include a sentence :
Jewel:
Certain falshoods (by mean of good utter- ance) have sometimes more likely-hood of truth) than truth itself.
Gower, lib. 1 :
Division, (the gospel saith) One house upon another laith.
Chaucer, 8d book of Fame : For lime, y lost (this know ye) By no way may recovered be.
These imperfect distinctions in the syntax of a substantive, and an adjective give the former place to the substantive ;
THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR. 345
Ascham :
Thus the poor gentleman suffered grief; great for the pain ; but greater for the spite.
Gower, lib. 2. Speaking of the envious person : Though he a man see vertuous, And full of good condition, Thereof maketh he no mention.
The distinction of a perfect sentence hath a more full stay, and doth rest the spirit, which is a pause or a period.
A pause is a distinction of a sentence, though perfect in itself, yet joined to another, being marked with two pricks. (:)
A period is the distinction of a sentence, in all respects perfect, and is marked with one full prick over against the lower part of the last letter, thus (.)
If a sentence be with an interrogation, we use this note (?)
Sir John Cheek :
Who can'perswade^ where treason is above reason ; and might ruleth right ; and it is had for lawful, whatsoever is lustful; and commotioners are better than commissioners ; and common woe is named commonwealth ?
Chaucer, 2d book of Fame :
Loe, is it not a great mischance ,
To let a fool have governance
Of things, that he cannot demain ? Lidgate, lib. 1 :
For, if wives be found variable^
Where shall husbands find other stable ?
If it be pronounced with an admiration, then thus (!)
346 THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR.
Sir Thomas More:
0 Lord God, the blindness of our mortal nature! Chaucer, 1st book of Fame :
Alas ! what harm doth apparence,
When it is false in exist tnce !
These distinctions, as they best agree with nature, so come they nearest to the ancient stays of sentences among theRomansand the Grecians. An example of all four, to make the matter plain, let us take out of that excellent oration of Sir John Cheek against the rebels, whereof before
have made so often mention:
When common order of the law can take no place in unruly and disobedient subjects ; and all men will of wilfulness resist with rage, and think their own violence to be the best justice : then be wise magistrates compelled by necessity to seek an extreme remedy ', where mean salves help not, and bring in the martial law where n&ne other law servcth.
THE END.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS:
OR, THE MEMORY OF
BEN JONSON. REVIVED BY THE FRIENDS OF THE MUSES,
MPCXXXVIII.
THE
PRINTER TO THE READER.
It is now about six months * since the most learned and judicious poet, B, JONSON, became a subject for these Elegies, The time interjected between his death and the publishing of these, shews that so great an argument ought to be considered, before handled ; not that the Gentlemen's affections were less ready to grieve, but their judgments to write. At length the loose papers were consigned to the hands of a Gentleman* tvho truly honoured him (for he knew why he did so.) To his care you are beholding that they are n,w made yours. And he was willing tn let you know the value of what you have lost, that you might the better recommended what you have left of him, to your posterity.
Farewell.
E.P.
1 It is now about six months,] Jonson died on the sixth of August, 1637 ; the Poems must therefore have appeared about the beginning of March 1638.
* This " gentleman," we find in Howell's Letters, was Dr. Bryan Duppa, bishop of Winchester. Nor was the present col. lection of tributary offerings the only praise of this excellent man. The patron of learning when learning was proscribed,—- for the greater part of what is beautiful and useful in the writ- ings of Mayne, Cartwright, and many others, religion and lite- rature are indebted to the fostering protection of doctor Bryan, Duppa. He was born at Greenwich 10th March, 1588, admitted of Christ Church Oxford, from Westminster School, in May 1605. After passing through various honourable situations in the university and at court, he was successively consecrated bishop of Chich«ster, Salisbury, and Winchester, and died at his favourite residence at Richmond the 26th March 1663. Charles II. visited him on his death bed, and begged his blessing on his bended knees.
There is great pleasure in opposing these honourable and liberal proofs of the good understanding which subsisted between contemporary poets to the slight and imperfect premises from which dramatic editors have laboured to deduce proofs of most opposite and disgraceful feelings. GILCHBIST.
AN EGLOGUE ON THE DEATH OF BEN JONSON,
BETWEEN MELIBGEUS AND HYLAS.
MELIBCEUS.
HYLAS, the clear day boasts a glorious sun, Our troop is ready, and our time is come : That fox who hath so long our lambs destroy'd, And daily in his prosperous rapine joy'd, Is earth 'd not far from hence ; old ^Egon's son, Rough Corilas, and lusty Cory don, In part the sport, in part revenge desire, And both thy tarrier and thy aid require. Haste, for by this, but that for thee we stay'd, The prey-devourer had our prey been made :
HyL Oh ! Meliboeus, now I list not hunt, Nor have that vigour as before I wont; My presence will afford them no relief, That beast I strive to chase is only grief.
Mel. What mean thy folded arms, thy down- cast eyes,
Tears which so fast descend, and sighs which rise? What mean thy words, which so distracted fall As all thy joys had now one funeral ? Cause for such grief, can our retirements yield? That follows courts, but stoops not to the field. Hath thy stern step-dame to thy sire reveal'd Some youthful act, which thou couldst wish con- ceal'd ?
352 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Part of thy herd hath some close thief convey'd From open pastures to a darker shade ? Part of thy flock hath some fierce torrent drown'd? Thy harvest fail'd, or Amarillis frown'd?
Hiil. Nor love nor anger, accident nor thief, Hath rais'd the waves of my unbounded grief: To cure this cause, I would provoke the ire Of my fierce step-dame or severer sire, Give all my herds, fields, flocks, and all the grace That ever shone in Amarillis' face. Alas, that bard, that glorious bard is dead, Who, when I whilom cities visited, Hath made them seem but hours, which were
full days,
Whilst he vouchsafed me his harmonious lays : And when he lived, I thought the country then A torture, and no mansion, but a den.
Mel. JONSOIC you mean, unless I much do err, I know the person by the character.
Hyl. You guess aright, it is too truly so, From no less spring could all these rivers flow.
Mtl Ah, Hylas ! then thy grief I cannot call A passion, when the ground is rational. I now excuse thy tears and sighs, though those To deluges, and these to tempests rose : Her great instructor gone, I know the age No less laments than doth the widow'd stage, And only vice and folly, now are glad, Our gods are troubled, and our prince is sad : He chiefly who bestows light, health, and art, Feels this sharp grief pierce his immortal heart, He his neglected lyre away hath thrown, And wept a larger, nobler Helicon, To find his herbs, which to his wish prevail, For the less love should his own favourite fail : So moan'd himself when Daphne he ador'd, That arts relieving all, should fail their lord.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 351
HyL But say, from whence in thee this know*
ledge springs, Of what his favour was with gods and kings,
MeL Dorus. who long had known books, men,
and towns,
At last the honour of our woods and downs, • Had often heard his songs, was often fir'd With their enchanting power, ere he retir'd, And ere himself to our still groves he brought,. To meditate on what his muse had taught: Here all his joy was to revolve alone, All that her music to his soul had shown, Or in all meetings to divert the stream Of our discourse; and make his friend his theme, And praising works which that rare loom hath
weav'd,
Impart that pleasure which he had receiv'd. So in sweet notes (which did all tunes excell, But what he praised) I oft have heard him tell Of his rare pen, what was the use and price, The bays of virtue and the scourge of vice : How the rich ignorant he valued least, Nor for the trappings would esteem the beast; But did our youth to noble actions raise, Hoping the meed of his immortal praise: How bright and soon his Muse's morning shone, Her noon how lasting, and her evening none. How speech exceeds not dumbness, nor verse
prose,
More than his verse the low rough times of those, (For such, his seen, they seem'd,) who highest
reard,
Possest Parnassus ere his power appeared. Nor shall another pen his fame dissolve, Till we this doubtful problem can resolve, Which in his works we most transcendant see, Wit, judgment, learning, art, or industry;
VOL. ix. A a
332 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Which till is never, so all jointly flow, And each doth to an equal torrent grow : His learning such, no author old nor new, Escap'd his reading that deserved his view, And such his judgment, so exact his test, Of what was best in books, as what books best, That had he join'd those notes his labours took, From each most prais'd and praise-deserving book, And could the world of that choice treasure
boast,
It need not care though alt the rest were lost: And such his wit, he writ past what he quotes, And his productions far exceed his notes. So in his works where aught inserted grows, The noblest of the plants engrafted shows, That his adopted children equal not, The generous issue his own brain begot : So great his art, that much which he did write, Gave the wise wonder, and the crowd delight, Each sort as well as sex admir'd his wit, The he's and she's, the boxes and the pit; And who less lik'd within, did rather choose, To tax their judgments than suspect his muse. How no spectator his chaste stage could call The cause of any crime of his, but all With thoughts and wills purg'd and amended rise, From ths ethic lectures of his comedies, Where the spectators act, and the sham'd age Blusheth to meet her follies on the stage; Where each man finds some light he never sought, And leaves behind some vanity he brought; Whose politics no less the minds direct, Than these the manners, nor with less effect, When his Majestic Tragedies relate All the disorders of a tottering state, All the distempers which on kingdoms fall, When ease, and wealth, and vice are general,
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 353
And yet the minds against all fear assure, And telling the disease, prescribe the cure: Where, as he tells what subtle ways, what friends, (Seeking their wicked and their wisb'd-for ends) Ambitious aftd luxurious persons prove, Whom vast desires, or mighty wants do move, The general frame to sap and undermine, In proud Sejanus, and bold Catiline; So in his vigilant Prince and Consul's parts, He shews the wiser and the nobler arts, By which a state may be unhurt, upheld, And all those works destroyed, which hell would
build. Who (not like those who with small praise had
writ,
Had they not call'd in judgment to their wit) Us'd not a tutoring hand his to direct, But was sole workman and sole architect. And sure by what my friend did daily tell, If he but acted his own part as well As he writ those of others, he may boast, The happy fields hold not a happier ghost. Hyl. Strangers will think this strange, yet he
(dear youth)
Where most he past belief, fell short of truth : Say on, what more he said, this gives relief, And though it raise my cause, it bates my grief, Since fates decreed him now no longer liv'd, I joy to hear him by thy friend reviv'd.
Mel. More he would say, and better, (but I
spoil
His smoother words with my unpolisrTd style) And having told what pitch his worth attain'd, He then would tell us what reward it gain'd : How in an ignorant, and learn'd age he sway'd, (Of which the first he found, the second made)
354 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
How he, when he could know it, reap'd his fame, And long out-liv'd the envy of his name : To him how daily flock'd, what reverence gave, All that had wit, or would be thought to have, Or hope to gain, and in so large a store, That to his ashes they can pay no more, Except those few who censuring, thought not so, But aim'd at glory from so great a foe : How the wise too, did with mere wits agree, As Pembroke, Portland, and grave Aubigny ; Nor thought the rigid'st senator a shame, To contribute to so deserv'd a fame : How great Eliza, the retreat of those Who, weak and injur'd, her protection chose, Her subject's joy, the strength of her allies, The fear and wonder of her enemies, With her judicious favours did infuse Courage and strength into his younger muse. How learned James, whose praise no end shall
find,
(But still enjoy a fame pure like his mind) Who favoured quiet, and the arts of peace, (Which in his halcyon days found large encrease) Friend to the humblest if deserving swain, Who was himself a part of Phoebus' train, Declar'd great JONSON worthiest to receive The garland which the Muses' hands did weave ; And though his bounty did sustain his days, Gave a more welcome pension in his praise. How mighty Charles amidst that weighty care, In which three kingdoms as their blessing share, Whom as it tends with ever watchful eyes,* That neither power may force, nor art surprise, So bounded by no shore, grasps all the main, And far as Neptune claims, extends his reign ; Found still some time to hear and to admire, The happy sounds of his harmonious lyre,
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 355
And oft hath left his bright exalted throne, And to his Muse's feet combin'd his own :* As did his queen, whose person so disclos'd A brighter nymph than any part impos'd, When she did join, by an harmonious choice, Her graceful motions to his powerful voice : How above all the rest was Phoebus fired With love of arts, which he himself inspired, Nor oftener by his light our sense was cheer'd, Than he in person to his sight appear'd, Nor did he write a line but to supply, With sacred flame the radiant god was by.
Hyl. Though none I ever heard this last re- hearse, I saw as much when I did see his verse.
Mel. Since he, when living, could such honours
have,
What now will piety pay to his grave ? Shall of the rich (whose lives were low and vile, And scarce deserv'd a grave, much less a pile) The monuments possess an ample room, And such a wonder lie without a tomb ? Raise thou him one in verse, and there relate His worth, thy grief, and our deplored state; His great perfections our great loss recite, And let them merely weep who cannot write.
Hyl. I like thy saying, but oppose thy choice ; So great a task as this requires a voice Which must be heard, and listened to, by all, And Fame's own trumpet but appears too small, Then for my slender reed to sound his name, Would more my folly than his praise proclaim, And when you wish my weakness, sing his worth, You charge a mouse to bring a mountain forth. I am by nature form'd, by woes made, dull, My head is emptier than my heart is full ;
* In his Masques. Old Copy.
356 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Grief doth my brain impair, as tears supply, Which makes my face so moist, my pea so dry. Nor should this work proceed from woods and
downs,
But from the academies, courts, and towns ; Let Digby, Carew, Killigrew, and Maine, Godolphin, Waller, thjt inspired train, Or whose rare pen beside deserves the grace, Or of an equal, or a neighbouring place, Answer thy wish, for none so fit appears, To raise hks tomb, as who are left his heirs : Yet for this cause no labour need be spent, Writing his works, he built his monument. Mel If to obey in this, thy pen be loth, It will not seem thy weakness, but thy sloth : Our towns prest by our foes invading might, Our ancient druids and young virgins fight, Employing feeble limbs to the best use ; So JONSON dead, no pen should plead excuse. For Elegies, howl all who cannot sing, For tombs bring turf, who cannot marble bring, Let all their forces mix, join verse to rhyme, To save his fame from that invader, Time ; Whose power, though his alone may well restrain, Yet to so wish'd an end, no care is vain ; And time, like what our brooks act in our sight, Oft sinks the weighty, and upholds the light. Besides, to this, thy pains I strive to move Less to express his glory than thy love : Not long before his death, our woods he meant To visit, and descend from Thames to Trent, Mete with thy elegy his pastoral, And rise as much as he vouchsafed to fall. Suppose it chance no other pen do join In this attempt, and the whole work be thine? — When the fierce fire the rash boy kindled, reign'd, The whole world suffer'd ; earth alone complained.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Suppose that many more intend the same, More taught by art, and better known to fame? To that great deluge which so far destroy 'd, The earth her springs, as heaven his showers
employ'd.
So may who highest marks of honour wears, Admit mean partners in this flood of teafs; So oft the humblest join with loftiest things, Nor only princes weep the fate of kings.
Hyl. I yield, I yield, thy words my thoughts
have fired,
And I am less persuaded than inspired ; Speech shall give sorrow vent, and that relief, The woods shall echo all the city's grief: I oft have verse on meaner subjects made, Should I give presents and leave debts unpaid? Want of invention here is no excuse, My matter I shall find, and not produce, And (as it fares in crowds) I only doubt, So much would pass, that nothing will get out, Else in this work which now my thoughts intend I shall find nothing hard, but how to end : I then but ask fit time to smooth my lays> (And imitate in this the pen I praise) Which by the subject's power embalm'd, may last, Whilst the sun light, the earth doth-shadows cast, And, feather'd by those wings, fly among men, Far as the fame of poetry and BEN.
FALKLAND.*
* With the success usually attendant upon his endeavours to philosophize, Horace Walpole has laboured to depreciate the character of this amiable and high-spirited man, who joined with the popular party in resisting royalty, till he discovered that their aims were directed not against the encroachments of pre- rogative, but against the crown itself. He then took up arms for the king and bravely fell at the fatal battle of Newbury the 20th September, 1643. GILCHIUST. See p. 6. of this volume.
358 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
TO THE MEMORY OF
BENJAMIN JONSON.
IF Romulus did promise in the fight, To Jove the Stator, if he held from flight His men, a temple, and performed his vow : Why should not we, learn'd JONSON, thee allow An altar at the least ? since by thy aid, Learning, that would have left us, has heen stay'd. The actions were different : that thing Requir'd some mark to keep't from perishing ; But letters must be quite defaced, before Thy memory, whose care did them restore.
BUCKHURST.3
TO THE MEMORY OF HIM WHO CAN NEVER BE FORGOTTEN,
MASTER BENJAMIN JONSON.
HAD this been for some meaner poet's herse, I might have then observ'd the laws of verse i But here they fail, nor can I hope to express In numbers, what the world grants numberless;
3 Richard Sackville lord Buckhurst, son of Edward earl of Dorset,, by Mary, daughter and heir of sir George Cursdii of Croxall in Derbyshire, married Frances daughter and heir to Lionel earl of Middlesex, by whom he had three sons and three daughters. He succeeded his father as earl of Dorset in 1652, and dying in 1677 was succeeded by his son Charles the poet.
GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 359
Such are the truths, we ought to speak of thee,
Thou great refiner of our poesy,
Who turn'st to gold that which before was lead ;
Then with that pure elixir rais'd the dead !
Nine sisters who (for all the poets lies)
Had been deem'd mortal, did not JONSON rise
And with celestial sparks (not stoln) revive
Those who could erst keep winged fame alive :
'Twas he that found (plac'd) in the seat of wit,
Dull grinning ignorance, and banish'd it;
He on the prostituted stage appears
To make men hear, not by their eyes, but ears ;
Who painted virtues, that each one might know,
And point the man, that did such treasure owe :
So that who could in JONSON'S lines be high
Needed not honours, or a riband buy ;
But vice he only shewed us in a glass,
Which by reflection of those rays that pass,
Retains the figure lively, set before,
And that withdrawn, reflects at us no more;
So, he observ'd the like decorum, when
He whi'pt the vices, and yet spar'd the men :
When heretofore, the Vice's only note,
And sign from virtue was his party-coat;
When devils were the last men on the stage,
And pray'd for plenty, and the present age.
Nor was our English language, only bound To thank him, for he Latin Horace found (Who so inspired Rome, with his lyric song) Translated in the macaronic tongue ; Cloth'd in such rags, as one might safely vow, That his Maecenas would not own him now : On him he took this pity, as to clothe In words, and such expression, as for both, There's none but judgeth the exchange will come To twenty more, than when he sold at Rome.
360 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Since then, he made our language pure and good, And us to speak, but what we understood, We owe this praise to him, that should we join To pay him, he were paid but with the coin Himself hath minted, which we know by this, That no words pass for current now, but his. And though he in a blinder age could change Faults to perfections, yet 'twas far more strange To see (however times, and fashions frame) His wit and language still remain the same In all men's mouths ; grave preachers did it use As golden pills, by which they might infuse Their heavenly physic ; ministers of state Their grave dispatches in his language wrate ; Ladies made curt'sies in them, courtiers, legs, Physicians bills; — perhaps, some pedant begs He may not use it, for he hears 'tis such, As in few words a man may utter much. Could I have spoken in his language too, I had not said so much, as now I do, To whose clear memory I this tribute send, Who dead 's my Wonder, living was my Friend.
JOHN BEAUMONT, Bart.4
4 The family of Beaumont boasts a royal descent ; there is a letter of king John's to one of the Beaumonts, preserved in Rymer's Fcedera, acknowledging the consanguinity. The ba- ronet before us was the eldest son of the author of " Bosworth field," and other poems : he was born at Grace-dieu in Leices- tershire in 16*07. In the rebellion, which followed hard upon the composition of this poem, sir John Beaumont took up arms, obtained a colonel's commission, and was slain at the siege of Gloucester, 1644. GILCHRIST.
' M.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
361
TO THE MEMORY OF
MASTER BENJAMIN JONSON.
To press into the throng, where wits thus strive To inake thy laurels fading tombs survive, Argues thy worth, their love, my bold desire, Somewhat to sing, though but to fill the quire: But (truth to speak) what muse can silent be, Or little say, that hath for subject, thee? Whose poems such, that as the sphere of fire, They warm insensibly, and force inspire, Knowledge, and wit infuse, mute tongues unloose, And ways not track'd to write, and speak dis- close.
But when thou put'st thy tragic buskin on, Or comic sock of mirthful action, Actors, as if inspired from thy hand, Speak, beyond what they think, less, understand ; And thirsty hearers, wonder-stricken, say, Thy words make that a truth, was meant a play. Folly, and brain-sick humours of the time, Distemper'd passion, and audacious crime, Thy pen so on the stage doth personate, That ere men scarce begin to know, they hate The vice presented, and there lessons learn, Virtue, from vicious habits to discern. Oft have I seen thee in a sprightly strain, To lash a vice, and yet no one complain ; Thou threw'st the ink of malice from thy pen, Whose aim was evil manners, not ill men. Let then frail parts repose, where solemn care Of pious friends their Pyramids prepare ;
362 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
And take thou, BEN, from Verse a second breath, Which shall create Thee new, and conquer death.
Sir THOMAS HAWKINS.*
TO THE MEMORY OF
MY FRIEND, BEN JONSON.
I SEE that wreath which doth the wearer arm 'Gainst the quick strokes of thunder, is no charm To keep off death's pale dart ; for, JONSON, then Thou hadst been number'd still with living men: Time's scythe had fear'd thy laurel to invade, Nor thee this subject of our sorrow made. Amongst those many votaries that come To offer up their garlands at thy tomb,
5-'Sir Thomas Hawkins, Knt. was the grandson of Thomas Hawkins, Esq.— of a family resident at the manor of Nash in the parish of Boughton under the Blean in Kent from the time of Edward III. — who attained the age of 101 years and died on the 15th March 1588, and lies buried in the north chancel of the church of Boughton, under a tomb of marble which bears ho- nourable testimony to his services to king Henry VIII, and speaks of him as a man of great strength and lofty stature.
The friend of Jonson was the eldest of seven sons of sir Thomas Hawkins of Nash, and married Elizabeth daughter of George Smith of Ashby Folvile in Leicestershire, by whom he had two sons, John and Thomas, both of whom he survived, and dying without issue in 1640, was succeeded in a consider- able patrimony by Richard his brother and heir, the lineal de- scendant of whom, Thomas Hawkins, Esq. was living at Nash in 1790.
Sir Thomas translated Caussin's Holy Court, several times reprinted in folio ; the Histories of Sejanus and Philippa, from the French of P. Mathieu ; and certain Odes of Horace, the 4th edition of which is before me, dated 1638. In a poem before the latter he is celebrated by H. Holland, for his skill in music.
GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
863
Whilst some more lofty pens in their bright verse, (Like glorious tapers flaming on thy herse) Shall light the dull and thankless world to see, How great a maim it suiters, wanting thee ; Let not thy learned shadow scorn, that I Pay meaner rites unto thy memory : And since I nought can add but in desire, Restore some sparks which leap'd from thine own fire.
What ends soever other quills invite, I can protest, it was no itch to write, Nor any vain ambition to be read, But merely love and justice to the dead, Which rais'd my fameless muse; and caus'd her
bring
These drops, as tribute thrown into that spring, To whose most rich and fruitful head we owe The purest streams of language which can flow. For 'tis but truth; thou taught'st the ruder age, To speak by grammar ; and reform'dst the stage; Thy comic sock induc'd such purged sense, A Lucrece might have heard without offence. Amongst those soaring wits that did dilate Our English, and advance it to the rate And value it now holds, thyself was one Help'd lift it up to such proportion, That, thus refined and robed, it shall not spare With the full Greek or Latin to compare. For what tongue ever durst, but ours, translate Great Tully's eloquence, or Homer's state ? Both which in their unblemish'd lustre shine, From Chapman's pen, and from thy Catiline,
All I would ask for thee, in recompense Of thy successful toil and time's expense Is only this poor boon ; that those who can, Perhaps, read French, or talk Italian ;
364 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Or do the lofty Spaniard affect, (To shew their skill in foreign dialect) Prove not themselves so' unnaturally wise They therefore should their mother-tongue des- pise;
(As if her poets both for style and wit, Not equall'd, or not pass'd their best that writ) Until by studying JONSON they have known The heighth, and strength, and plenty of their
own.
Thus in what low earth, or neglected room Soe'er thou sleep'st, thy BOOK shall be thy tomb. Thou wilt go down a happy corse, bestrew'd With thine own flowers, and feel thyself renew'd, Whilst thy immortal, never-withering bays Shall yearly flourish in thy reader's praise: And when more spreading titles are forgot, Or, spite of all their lead and sear-cloth, rot; Thou wrapt and shrin'd in thine own sheets wilt
lie, A Relic fam'd by all posterity.
HENRY KING.*
6 Henry King, eldest son of Dr. John King, bishop of London, was born at Wornal in Buckinghamshire in January 1592* He was educated first at Thame, afterwards at Westminster, and lastly at Christ Church Oxford, where he was entered in 1608. He was successively chaplain to James the first, archdeacon of Colchester, residentiary of St. Paul's, chaplain in ordinary to Charles the first, dean of Rochester, and lastly bishop of Chi. Chester, in which place he died 1st October, 1669, and was buried in the Cathedral. The writings of bishop King are for the most part devotional, but in his " Poems, Elegies, Paradoxes, and Sonnets," 8vo. 1657, there is a neatness, ^n. elegance, and even a tenderness, which entitle them to more attention than they have lately obtained. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 36*5
TO THE MEMORY OP
BENJAMIN JONSON.
MIGHT but this slender offering of mine, Crowd 'midst the sacred burden of thy shrine^ The near acquaintance with thy greater name Might style me wit, and privilege my fame, But I've no such ambition, nor dare sue For the least legacy of wit, as due. I come not t' offend duty, and transgress Affection, nor with bold presumption press, 'Midst those close mourners, whose nigh kin in
verse,
Hath made the near attendance of thy hearse. I come in duty, not in pride, to shew Not what I have in store, but what I owe ; Nor shall my folly wrong thy fame, for we Prize, by the want of wit, the loss of thee.
As when the wearied sun hath stoPn to rest, And darkness made the world's unwelcome guest, We grovelling captives of the night, yet may With fire and candle beget light, not day; Now he whose name in poetry controls, Goes to converse with more refined souls, Like country gazers in amaze we sit, Admirers of this great eclipse in wit. s Reason and wit we have to shew us men, But no hereditary beam of BEN. Our knock'd inventions may beget a spark, Which faints at least resistance of the dark ; Thine like the fire's high element was pure, And like the same made not to burn, but cure. When thy enraged Muse did chide o' the stage, 'Twas to reform, not to abuse the age. — But thou'rt requited ill, to have thy herse, Stain'd by profaner parricides in verse,
366 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Who make mortality a guilt, and scold, Merely because thou'dst offer to be old : Twas too unkind a slight'ning of thy name, To think a ballad could confute thy fame; Let's but peruse their libels, and they'll be But arguments they understood not thee. Nor is't disgrace, that in thee, through age spent, 'Twas thought a crime not to be excellent: For me, I'll in such reverence hold thy fame, I'll but by invocation use thy name, Be thou propitious, poetry shall know, No deity but Thee to whom I'll owe.
HEN. COVENTRY/
AN ELEGY UPON BENJAMIN JONSON.
THOUGH once high Statius o'er dead Lucan's
hearse,
Would seem to fear his own hexameters, And thought a greater honour than that fear, He could not bring to Lucan's sepulchre ;
7 Henry Coventry, son of the lord keeper, was edacated at All Soul's College Oxford, of which he was fellow, and where, on the 31st August 1636, the degree of M. A. was conferred upon him by the king in person ; he took a degree in law the 26th June 1638. He suffered much for the royal cause in the rebellion, but upon the restoration of the king he was nfade groom of the bed chamber to Charles II, sent upon embassies to Breda and Sweden, and on the 3d July, 1672, was sworn one of the principal secretaries of state. In 1680 he resigned his high office, and died at his house near Charing Cross on the 5th December, 1686 aged 68 years. He was buried in St, Mar. tin's church. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
369
Let not our poets fear to write of thee,
Great JONSON, king of English poetry,
In any English verse, let none whoe'er,
Bring so much emulation as to fear:
But pay without comparing thoughts at all,
Their tribute — verses to thy funeral;
Nor think whate'er they write on such a name,
Can be amiss : if high, it fits thy fame ;
If low, it rights thee more, and makes men see,
That English poetry is dead with thee ;
Which in thy genius did so strongly live. —
Nor will I here particularly strive,
To praise each well composed piece of thine ;
Or shew what judgment, art and wit did join
To make them up, but only (in the way
That Famianus honour'd Virgil) say,
The Muse herself was link'd so near to thee,
Whoe'er saw one, must needs the other see;
And if in thy expressions aught seem'd scant,
Not thou, but Poetry itself, did want.
THOMAS MAY.*
8 Thomas May, — the son of Thomas May, Esq. who purchased the manor of Mayfield-place in Sussex (formerly an archiepis- copal palace, and afterwards the seat of the Greshams) and who was knighted at Greenwich in 1603 and died in 1616,—- was born in 1595, educated at Sidney College Cambridge, where he took the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and was ad. mitted of Grays Inn the 6th August 1615. In 1617 he joined with his mother Joan May and his cousin Richard May of Es- lington, in alienating the estate of Mayfield to John Baker, Esq. whose descendants have ever since enjoyed it. May's at- tachment to Charles I. and his subsequent apostacy, — his dra- matic writings and translations, and his history of the parliament are sufficiently known. He died — already dead-drunk— the 13th November 1650. GILCHRIST.
VOL, IX.
Bb
370 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
AN ELEGY ON BEN JONSON.
1 DARE not, learned Shade, bedew thy hcrse With tears, unless that impudence, in verse, Would cease to be a sin ; and what were crime In prose, would be no injury in rhyme. My thoughts are so below, I fear to act A sin, like their black envy, who detract; As oft as I would character in speech That worth, which silent wonderscarce can reach. Yet, I that but pretend to learning, owe So much to thy great fame, I ought to shew My weakness in thy praise ; thus to approve, Although it be less wit, is greater love : 'Tis all our fancy aims at ; and our tongues At best, will guilty prove of friendly wrongs. For, who would image out thy worth, great BEN, Should first be, what he praises ; and his pen Thy active brains should feed, which we can't
have,
Unless we could redeem thee from the grave. The only way that's left now, is to look Into thy papers, to read o'er thy book ; And then remove thy fancies, there doth lie Some judgment, where we cannot make, t' apply Our reading : some, perhaps, may call this wit, And think, we do not steal, but only fit Thee to thyself; of all thy marble wears, Nothing is truly ours, except the tears.
O could we weep like thee ! we might convey New breath, and raise men from their beds of
clay
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
371
Unto a life of fame ; he is not dead,
Who by thy Muses hath been buried.
Thrice happy those brave heroes, whom I meet
Wrapt in thy writings, as their winding sheet!
For, when the tribute unto nature due,
Was paid, they did receive new life from you;
Which shall not be undated, since thy breath
Is able to immortal, after death.
Thus rescued from the dust, they did ne'er see
True life, until they were entomb'd by thee.
You that pretend to courtship, here admire Those pure and active flames, love did inspire : And though he could have took his mistress* ears, Beyond faint sighs, false oaths, and forced tears; His heat was still so modest, it might warm, But do the cloister'd votary no harm. The face he sometimes praises, but the mind, A fairer saint, is in his verse enshrin'd.
He that would worthily set down his praise, Should study lines as lofty as his plays. The Roman worthies did not seem to fight With braver spirit, than we see him write ; His pen their valour equals ; and that age Receives a greater glory from our stage. Bold Catiline, at once Rome's hate and fear, Far higher in his story doth appear; The flames those active furies did inspire, Ambition and Revenge, his better fire Kindles afresh ; thus lighted, they shall burn, Till Rome to its first nothing do return. Brave fall, had but the cause been likewise good, Had he so, for his country, lost his blood !
Some like not Tully in his own ; yet while All do admire him in thy English style, I censure not ; I rather think, that we May well his equal, thine we ne'er shall see.
DUDLEY DIGGS.'
9 Dudley Digges,tbe son of sir Dudley Digges, master of the B b2
372 JONSONUS VIHBIUS.
TO THE IMMORTALITY OF MY LEARNED FlUEND,
MASTER JONSON.
I PARLJED once with death, and thought to yield, When thou advised'st me to keep the field ; Yet if I fell, thou wouldst upon my herse, Breathe the reviving spirit of thy verse.
I live, and to thy grateful Muse would pay A parallel of thanks, but that this day Of thy fair rights, thorough th' innumerous light, That flows from thy adorers, seems as bright, As when the sun darts through his golden hair, His beams diameter into the air. In vain I then strive to encrease thy glory, These lights that go before make dark my story. Only-Ill say, heaven gave unto thy pen A sacred power, immortalizing men, And thou dispensing life immortally, Do>st now but sabbatise from work, not die.
GEORGE FoRTEscuE.1
rolls, was born at Chilham in Kent in 1612. He became a commoner in University College Oxford in 1629, took his B.A. degree in 1631, the year following was made probationer-fellow of All Souls, as founder's-kin, and in 1635 was licensed M. A. He was a man of strong parts and considerable attainments, and was firmly attached to the service of the king. He died at an early age, of a malignant fever called the Camp disease^ and was buried in the chapel of AH Souls college, October 1643.
GlLCHRiST.
1 I am unable to mention any thing concerning George For- tescue, further than his having some commendatory verses pre- fixed to Rivers's Devout Rhapsodies, 4to. 1648 ; sir John Beau- mont's Eosworth Field, 8?o. 1629 ; and sir Thomas Hawkins's translation of some of Horace's Odes, 4th edition 8vo, 1638.
GILCIIRIST,
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
373
AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF BENT JONSON,
THE MOST EXCELLENT OF ENGLISH POETS.
WHAT doth officious fancy here prepare? — Be't rather this rich kingdom's .charge and care To find a virgin quarry, whence no hand E'er wrought a tomh on vulgar dust to stand, And thence bring for this work materials fit: Great JONSON needs no architect of wit ; Who forc'd from art, received from nature more Than doth survive him, or e'er liv'd before.
And, poets, with what veil soe'er you hide, Your aim, 'twill not be thought your grief, but
pride,
Which,thatyourcypressnever growth might want, Did it near his eternal laurel plant.
Heaven at the death of princes, by the birth Of some new star, seems to instruct the earth, How it resents our human fate. Then why Didst thou, wit's most triumphant monarch, die Without thy comet? Did the sky despair To teem a fire, bright as thy glories were ? Or is it by its age, unfruitful grown, And can produce no light, but what is known, A common mourner, when a prince's fall Invites a star t' attend the funeral ? But those prodigious sights only create, Talk for the vulgar : Heaven, before thy fate, That thou thyself might'st thy own dirges hear, Made the sad stage close mourner for a year;
374 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
The stage, which (as by an instinct divine, Instructed,) seeing its own fate in thine, And knowing how it ow'd its life to thee, Prepared itself thy sepulchre to be ; And had continued so, but that thy wit, Which as the soul, first animated it, Still hovers here below, and ne'er shall die, Till time be buried in eternity.
But you ! whose comic labours on the stage, Against the envy of a fro ward age Hold combat ! how will now your vessels sail, The seas so broken and the winds so frail, Such rocks, such shallows threat'uing every where, And Jonson dead, whose art your course might steer?
Look up ! where Seneca and Sophocles, Quick Plautus and sharp Aristophanes, Enlighten yon bright orb ! doth not your eye, Among them, one far larger fire, descry, At which their lights grow pale? 'tis JONSON,
there
He shines your Star, who was your Pilot here.
W. HABINGTON.*
* William Habington, the son of Thomas Habington of Hendlip in Worcestershire by Mary Parker, sister to the lord Mounteagle to whom the mysterious letter was sent by which the Gunpowder plot was discovered, was born at his father's seat on the 5th November 1605. He was educated Jin the reli- gion of his father at Paris and St. Onaer's. He married Lucy, daughter of lord Powis, the Castara of his muse, and died on the 30th November, 1654. The poems of Habington, though aspiring to none of the higher classes of poetry, are tolerably musical in their numbers, and indicate a purity of morals ^nd gentleness of manners in their author : they must have been at one period popular, since they passed through three impressions between 1635 and 1640. Indeed, his merits have been rewarded with unusual liberality, his comedy found a place in Dodsley's Collection of old Plays ; his life of Edward the 4th was admitted
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 375
UPON BEN JONSON,
THE MOST EXCELLENT OF COMIC POETS.
MIRROR of poets 1 mirror of our age ! Which her whole face beholding on thy stage, Pleas'd and d ispleas'd with her own faults endures, A remedy, like those whom music cures, Thou not alone those various inclinations, Which nature gives to ages, sexes, nations, Hast traced with thy all -resembling pen, But all that custom hath impos'd on men, Or ill-got habits, which distort them so, That scarce the brother can the brother know, Is represented to the wondering eyes, Of all that see or read thy Comedies. Whoever in those glasses looks may find, The spots return'd, or graces of his mind ; And by the help of so divine an art, At leisure view, and dress his nobler part. Narcissus cozen'd by that flattering well, Which nothing could but of his beauty tell, Had here, discovering the deform'd estate Of his fond mind, preserved himself with hate. But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad In flesh and blood so well, that Plato had Beheld what his high fancy once embraced, Virtue with colours, speech, and motion graced. The sundry postures of thy copious muse, Who would express, a thousand tongues must use:
into bishop Kennet's compleat history of England, and the volume of poems before spoken of has been lately reprinted.
GILCHRIST.
376 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Whose fate's no less peculiar than thy art ; For as thou couklst all characters impart, So none can render thine, who still escapes, Like Proteus in variety of shapes, Who was nor this nor that, but all we find, And all we can imagine in mankind.
E. WALLER.'
UPON THE POET OF HIS TIME,
BENJAMIN JONSON,
HIS HONOURED FRIEND AND FATHER.
AND is thy glass run out? is that oil spent, Which light to such tough sinewy labours lent? Well, BEN, I now perceive that all the Nine, Though they their utmost forces should combine, Cannot prevail 'gainst Night's three daughters,
but,
One still will spin, one wind, the other cut. Yet in despight of spindle, clue, and knife, Thou, in thy strenuous lines, hast got a life, Which, like thy bay, shall flourish every age, While sock or buskin move upon the stage.
JAMES HOWELL.*
* Edmund Waller born in 1605, died of a dropsy, the 1st October, 1687. GILCHRIST.
4 James Howell, the author of " Familiar Epistles" is so well known that it seems scarcely necessary to say more. than that he was born at Abernant, in Carnarvonshire, educated at Jesus College Oxford, and died in November 1666, and if as buried in the Temple Church. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
377
AN OFFERTORY AT THE TOMB
OF THE FAMOUS POET
BEN JONSON.
IF so'uls departed lately hence clo know How we perform the duties that we owe Their relique's, will it not grieve thy spirit To see our dull devotion ? thy merit Profaned by disproportion'd rites ? thy herse Rudely defiled with our unpolish'd verse ?: — Necessity's our best excuse : 'tis in Our understanding, not our will, we sin; 'Gainst which 'tis now in vain to labour, we Did nothing know, but what was taught by thee.
The routed soldiers when their captains fall Forget all order, that men cannot call It properly a battle that they fight ; Nor we (thou being dead) be said to write, 'Tis noise we utter, nothing can be sung By those distinctly that have lost their tongue; And therefore whatsoe'er the subject be, All verses now become thy ELEGY : For, when a lifeless poem shall be read, Th' afflicted reader sighs, BEN JONSO^'S dead. This is thy glory, that no pen can raise A lasting trophy in thy honour'd praise ; Since fate (it seems) would have it so exprest, Each muse should end with thine, who was the
best:
And but her flights were stronger, and so high, That time's rude hand cannot reach her glory,
378 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
An ignorance had spread this age, as great
As that which made thy learned muse so sweat,
And toil to dissipate; until, at length,
Purg'd by thy art, it gain'd a lasting strength;
And now secur'd hy thy all-powerful writ,
Can fear no more a like relapse of wit :
Though (to our grief) we ever must despair, That any age can raise thee up an heir.
JOHN VERNON. e Societ. In. Temp.
TO THE MEMORY OF BEN JONSON.
THE Muses' fairest light in no dark time; The wonder of a learned age ; the line Which none can pass ; the most proportioned wit, To nature, the best judge of what was fit ; The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest pen ; The voice most echo'd by consenting men; The soul which answer'd best to all well said By others, and which most requital made ; Tuned to the highest key of ancient Rome, Returning all her music with his own, In whom with nature, study claim'd a part, And yet who to himself ow'd all his art :
Here lies BEN JONSON ! Every age will look With sorrow here, with wonder on his Book.
J. C.
5 John Vernon was the son and heir of Robert Vernon, of Camberwell, in the county of Surrey, Knt. ; he was admitted of the Inner Temple the 15th October, 2nd Charles the First, and was called to the bar the 15th October, 1634*
GlLCHEIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 579
TO THE SAME.
WHO first reform'd our stage with justest laws, And was the first best judge in your own cause : Who, when his actors trembled for applause,
Could (with a noble confidence) prefer His own, by right, to a whole theatre ; From principles which he knew could not err.
Who to his Fable did his persons fit, With all the properties of art and wit, And above all, that could be acted, writ.
Who public follies did to covert drive, Which he again could cunningly retrive, Leaving them no ground to rest on, and thrive,
Here JONSON lies, whom, had I nam'd before, In that one word alone, I had paid more Than can be now, when plenty makes me poor.
JOHN CLEVELAND.*
6 Amid much coarseness, indelicacy and quaintness, " the genuine remains of John Cleveland" contain many examples of nervous thought and unaffected tenderness. Though educated under a puritan minister, he rejected the frigid tenets and anti- monarchical feelings of the sectaries, and satirized their disloy- alty and hypocrisy without mercy. When his zeal and perse- verance in the royal cause had brought his person under re- straint, the dignified and manly terms in which he remonstrated with Cromwell, and which under a meaner usurper would have put his life in jeopardy, extorted from the Protector his liberty. He was born at Loughborough in 1613, educated at Christ's and St. John's Colleges Cambridge, and died in Gray's Inn on the 29th April 1658 ;-— greatly lamented by the royalists.
GlLCHIUST.
580 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
TO THE
MEMORY OF BEN JONSON.
As when the vestal hearth went out, no fire Less holy than the flame that did expire, Could kindle it again : so at thy fall Our wit, great BEN, is too apocryphal To celebrate the loss, since 'tis too much To write thy Epitaph, and not he such. What thou wert, like th' hard oracles of old, Without an extasy cannrtt he told. We must be ravish'd first; thou must infuse Thyself into us both the theme and muse. Else, (though we all conspir'd to make thy herse Our works) so that 't had been but one grate
verse,
Though the priest had translated for that time The liturgy, and buried thee in rhyme, So that in metre we had heard it said, Poetic dust is to poetic laid : And though, that dust being Shakspeare's, thou
mioiit'st have
w*
Not his room, but the poet for thy grave ; So that, as thou didst prince of numbers die And live, so now thou might'st in numbers lie, 'Twere frail solemnity : verses on thee And not like thine, would but kind libels be; And we, (not speaking thy whole worth) should
raise
Worse blots, than they that envied thy praise. Indeed, thou need'st us not, since above all Invention, thou wert thine own funeral.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
381
Hereafter, when time hath fed on thy tomb, Th' inscription worn out, and the marble dumb, So that 'twould pose a critic to restore Half words, and words expir'd so long before ; When thy maim'd statue hath a sentenced face, And looks that are the horror of the place, That 'twill he learning, and antiquity, And ask a SELDEN to say, this was thee, Thou 'It have a whole name still, norneed'st thou
fear
That will be ruin'd, or lose nose, or hair. Let others write so thin, that they can't be Authors till rotten, no posterity Can add to thy works ; they had their whole
growth then
When first borne, and came aged from thy pen, Whilst living thou enjoy'dst the fame and sense Of all that time gives, but the reverence. When thou'rt of Homer's years, no man will say Thy poems are less worthy, but more gray: 'Tis bastard poetry, and of false blood Which can't, without succession, be good. Things that will always last, do thus agree With things eternal ; th' at once perfect be. Scorn then their censures, who gave out, thy wit As long upon a comedy did sit As elephants bring forth ; and that thy blots And mendings took more time than Fortune plots: That such thy drought was, and so great thy
thirst, That all thy plays were drawn at the Mermaid
first ;
That the king's yearly butt wrote, and his wine Hath more right than thou to ttly CATILINE. Let such men keep a diet, let their wit Be rack'd, and while they write, suffer a fit :
382 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
When they've felt tortures which out-pain the
gout,
Such, as with less, the state draws treason out; Though they should the length of consumptions
lie
Sick of their verse, and of their poem die, 'Twould not be thy worse scene, but would at last Confirm their boastings, and shew made in haste. He that writes well, writes quick, since the
rule's true,
Nothing is slowly done, that's always new. So when thy Fox had ten times acted been, Each day was first, but that 'twas cheaper seen; And so thy ALCHEMIST play'd o'er and o'er, Was new o' the stage, when 'twas not at the door. We, like the actors, did repeat ; the pit The first time saw, the next conceiv'd thy wit : Which was cast in those forms, such rules, such
arts,
That but to some not half thy acts were parts : Since of some silken judgments we may say, They fill'd a box two hours, but saw no play. So that th' unlearned lost their money ; and Scholars sav'd only, that could understand. Thy scene was free from monsters ; no hard plot Call'd down a God t' untie th' unlikely knot : The stage was still a stage, two entrances Were not two parts o' the world, disjoin'd by seas. Thine were land-tragedies, no prince was found To swim a whole scene out, then o5 the stage
drown'd ;
Pitch'd fields, asRed-bull wars, still felt thy doom ; Thou laid'st no sieges to the music room ; Norwouldst allow, to thy best Comedies, Humours that should above the people rise. Yet was thy language and thy style so high, Thy sock to th' ancle, buskin reach'd to th' thigh ;
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
383
And both so chaste, so 'bove dramatic clean, That we both safely saw, and liv'd thy scene. No foul loose line did prostitute thy wit, Thou wrot'st thy comedies, didst not commit. We did the vice arraigned not tempting hear, And were made judges, not bad parts by th' ear. For thou ev'n sin did in such words array, That some who came bad parts, went out good
play.
Which, ended not with th' epilogue, the age Still acted, which grew innocent from the stage. 'Tis true thouhadst some sharpness, but thy salt Serv'd but with pleasure to reform the fault : Men were laugh'd into virtue, and none more Hated Face acted than were such before. So did thy sting not blood, but humours draw, So much doth satire more correct than law ; Which was not nature in thee, as some call Thy teeth, who say thy wit lay in thy gall: That thou didst quarrel first, and then, in spite, Didst 'gainst a person of such vices write; That 'twas revenge, not truth, that on the stage Carlo was not presented, but thy rage ; And that when thou in company wert met, Thy meat took notes, and thy discourse was net. We know thy free vein had this innocence, To spare the party, and to brand th' offence ; And the just indignation thou wert in Did not expose Shift, but his tricks and gin. Thou mightst have us'd th' old comic freedom,
these
Might have seen themselves play'd like Socrates ; Like Cleon, Mammon might the knight have
been, If, as Greek authors, thou hadst turn'd Greek
spleen ;
384 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
And hadst not chosen rather to translate Their learning into English, not their hate : Indeed this last, if thou hadst been bereft Of thy humanity, might be call'd theft; The other was not ; whatsoe'er was strange, Orborrow'dinthee: did grow thine by the change, Who without Latin helps hadst been as rare As Beaumont, Fletcher, or as Shakspeare were;
And like them, from thy native stock could'st say,
Poets and Kings are not born every day.
J. MAYNE/
IN THE MEMORY OF THE
MOST WORTHY BENJAMIN JONSON.
FATHER of poets, though thine own great day, Struck from thyself, scorns that a weaker ray Should twine in lustre with it, yet my flame, Kindled from thine, flies upwards tow'rds thy name.
7 Jasper Mayne, whose entertaining comedies have endeared his name to dramatic readers, was bom at Hatherly in Devon, 1604, educated at Westminster, and afterwards at Christ Church Oxford, where he took the degrees of B. A. 1628, and M. A. 1631. Ejected from his vicarages of Pyrton and Cassington by the Parliamentary visitors, he found an asylum under the roof of the earl of Devonshire, and the storm subsiding, was restored to his livings, made canon of Christ Church and archdeacon of Chichester. He died the 6th December 1672. His character has been thus briefly and boldly sketched : u Ingenio sanefceli- cissimoet eruditione propemodum omnigena locuplctatOj fruebatur ; theologus accurate doctus et annunciator evangelii disertus : Poeta porrv non incdcbris ei ob sales acfacetias in precio habitus."
GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 385
For in the acclamation of the less There's piety, though from it no access. And though my ruder thoughts make me of chose, Who hide and cover what they should disclose; Yet, where the lustre's such, he makes it seen Better to some, that draws the veil between.
And what can more be hoped, since that divine Free filling spirit took its flight with thine? Men may have fury, but no raptures now; Like witches, charm, yet not know whence, nor
how ; And, through distemper, grown not strong but
fierce,
Instead of writing, only rave in verse : Which when by thy laws judg'd, 'twill be confessed, 'Twas not to be inspir'd, but be possess'd.
Where shall we find a muse like thine, that can So well present and shew man unto man, That each one finds his twin, and thinks thy art Extends not to the gestures but the heart ? Where one so shewing life to life, that we Think thoutaught'st custom, and notcustomthee? Manners, that were themes to thy scenes still flow- In the same stream, and are their comments now : These times thus living o'er thy models, we Think them not so much wit, as prophecy ; And though we know the character, may swear A Sybil's finger hath been busy there.
Things common thou speak'st proper, which
though known
For public, stampt by thee grow thence thine own : Thy thoughts so order'd, so express'd, that we Conclude that thou didst not discourse, but see, Language so master'd, that thy numerous feet, Laden with genuine words, do always meet Each in his art ; nothing unfit doth fall, Shewing the poet, like the wiseman, All.
VOL. ix. C c
S86 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Thine equal skill thus wresting nothing, made Thy pen seem not so much to write as trade.
That life, that Venus of all things, which we Conceive or shew, proportion'd decency, Is not found scattered in thee here and there, But, like the soul, is wholly every where. ,No strange perplexed maze doth pass for plot, Thou always dost untie, not cut the knot. Thy labyrinth's doors are opened by one thread That ties, and runs through all that's done or said : No power comes down with learned hat and rod, Wit only, and contrivance is thy god.
'Tis easy to gild gold ; there's small skill spent Where even the first rude mass is ornament: Thy muse took harder metals, purg'd and boiFd, Labour'd and tried, heated, and beat and toil'd, Sifted the dross, filed roughness, then gave dress, Vexing rude subjects into comeliness. Be it thy glory then, that we may say, Thou run'st where th' foot was hinder' d by the
way.
Nor dost thou pour out, but dispense thy vein, SkilFd when to spare, and when to entertain: Not like our wits, who into one piece do Thro wall that they can say, and their friends too: Pumping themselves, for one term's noise so dry, As if they made their wills in poetry. And such spruce compositions press the stage, Whenmen transcribe themselves, and not the age: Both sorts of plays are thus like pictures shewn, Thine of the common life, theirs of their own,
Thy models yet are not so fram'd, as we. May call them libels, and not imag'ry; No name on any basis : 'tis thy skill To strike the vice, but spare the person still. As he, who when he saw the serpent wreath'd About his sleeping son, and as he breath'd,
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 387
Drink in his soul, did so the shot contrive, To kill the beast, but keep the child alive: So dost thou aim thy darts, which, even when They kill the poisons, do but wake the men; Thy thunders thus but purge, and we endure Thy lancings better than another's cure ; And justly too : for th' age grows more unsound From the fool's balsam, than the Wiseman's wound.
No rotten talk brokes for a laugh ; no page Commenc'd man by th' instructions of thy stage ; No bargaining line there ; provoc'tive verse ; Nothing but what Lucretia might rehearse; No need to make good countenance ill, and use The plea of strict life for a looser muse. No woman ruled thy quill ; we can descry No verse born under any Cynthia's eye: Thy star was judgment only, and right sense, Thyself being to thyself an influence. Stout beauty is thy grace ; stern pleasures do Present delights, but mingle horrors too : Thy muse doth thus like Jove's fierce girl appear, With a fair hand, but grasping of a spear.
Where are they now that cry, thy lamp did
drink More oil than the author wine, while he did
think ?
We do embrace their slander : thou hast writ Not for dispatch but fame; no market wit: Twas not thy care, that it might pass and sell, But that it might endure, and be done well : Nor woiildst thou venture it unto the ear, Until the file would not make smooth, but wear ; Thy verse came season'd hence, and would -not
give
Born not to feed the author, but to live : Whence 'mong the choicer judges risse a strife, To make thee read as classic in thy life. C c2
388 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Those that do hence applause, and suffrage beg,
'Cause they can poems form upon one leg,
Write not to time, but to the poet's day :
There's differ en ce^Jbet ween fame, and sudden pay.
These men sing kingdoms' falls, as if that fate
Used the same force to a village, and a state ;
These serve Thyestes' bloody supper in,
As if it had only a sallad been :
Their Catilines are but fencers, whose fights rise
Not to the fame of battle, but of prize.
But thou still put'st true passions on ; dost write
With the same courage that tried captains fight;
Giv'st the right blush and colour unto things,
Low without creeping, high without loss of wings;
Smooth, yet not weak, and by a thorough care,
Big without swelling, without painting fair.
They, wretches, while they cannot stand to fit,
Are not wits, but materials of wit.
What though thy searching wit did rake the dust
Of time, and purge old metals of their rust?
Is it no labour, no art, think they, to
Snatch shipwrecks from the deep, as divers do?
And rescue jewels from the covetous sand,
Making the seas hid wealth adorn the land ?
What though thy culling muse did rob the store
Of Greek, and Latin gardens to bring o'er
Plants to thy native soil? their virtues were
Improved far more, by being planted here.
If thy still to their essence doth refine
So many drugs, is not the water thine ?
Thefts thus become just works; they and their
grace
Are wholly thine : thus doth the stamp and face Make that the king's, that's ravish'd from the
mine; In others then 'tis ore, in thee 'tis coin.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
389
Blest life of authors ! unto whom we owe Those that we have, and those that we want too : Thou art all so good, that reading makes thee
worse,
And to have writ so well's thine only curse. Secure then of thy merit, thou didst hate That servile base dependence upon fate: Success thou ne'er thoughtst virtue, nor that fit, Which chance, and th' age's fashion did make hit; Excluding those from life in after-time, Who into poetry first brought luck and rhyme ; Who thought the people's breath good air; styled
name
What was but noise ; and, getting briefs for fame, Gather'd the many's suffrages, and thence Made commendation a benevolence. Thy thoughts were their own laurel, and did win That best applause of being crown'd within. And though th' exacting age, when deeper
years
Had intenvowen snow among thy hairs, Would not permit thou shouldst grow old, 'cause
they
Ne'er by thy writings knew thee young ; we may Say justly, they're ungrateful, when they more Condemn'd thee, 'causethou wertsogood before. Thine art was thine art's blur, and they'll confess Thy strong perfumes made them not smell thy
less.
But, though to 'err with thee be no small skill, And we adore the last draughts of thy quill : Though those thy thoughts, which the now- queasy age,
Doth count but clods, and refuse of the stage, Will come up porcelain- wit some hundreds hence, When there will be more manners, and more
sense ;
390 JONSONUS VJRBIUS.
'Twas judgment yet to yield, and we afford Thy silence as much fame, as once thy word : Who like an aged oak, the leaves being gone, Wast food hefore, art now religion ; Thought still more rich, though not so richly
stor'd,
View'd and enjoy'd hefore, hut now ador'd. Great soul of numbers, whom we want and
boast ;
Like curing gold, most valued now thou art lost! When we shall feed on refuse offals, when We shall from corn to acorns turn again ; Then shall we see that these two names are one, JONSON and POETRY,, which now are gone.
W. CARTWRIGHT.'
1 The plays and poems of William Cartwright are too well known to dramatic readers to render a minute account of his life necessary or even excusable. Wood, whose narrative cor- responds with the calculation of Humphrey Mobely, a printer to whom literature is much indebted, says that he was born in 1611, educated first at Cirencester, afterwards at Westminster, and lastly at Oxford, where in 1628 he was admitted student of Christ Church, and where in 1635 he took the degree of Master of Arts. In 1642 the editor of this collection (B. Duppa), appointed him his successor in the church of Salisbury. On the 12th of April 1643 he was chosen junior proctor of the Uni- versity of Oxford, where he died on the 29th of the November following,
a Prais'd, wept, and hoiiour'd by the muse he loved."
GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
391
AN ELEGY UPON BEN JONSON.
Now thou art clead, and thy great wit and name
Is got beyond the reach of chance or fame,
Which none can lessen, nor we bring enough
To raise it higher, through our want of stuff;
I find no room for praise, but elegy,
And there but name the day when thou didst die:
That men may know thou didst so, for they will
Hardly believe disease or age could kill
A body so inform'd, with such a soul,
As, like thy verse, might fate itself control.
But thou art gone, and we like greedy heirs, That snatch the fruit of their dead father's cares, Begin to enquire what means thou left'st behind For us, pretended heirs unto thy mind : And myself, not the latest 'gan to look And found the inventory in thy Book ; A stock for writers to set up withal : That out of thy full comedies, their small And slender wits by vexing much thy writ And their own brains, may draw good saving wit; And when they shall upon some credit pitch, May be thought well to live, although not rich. Then for your songsters, masquers, what a deal We have? enough to make a commonweal Of dancing courtiers, as if poetry Were made to set out their activity. Learning great store for us to feed upon, But little fame ; that, with thyself, is gone,
S92 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
And like a desperate debt, bequeath'd, not paid Before thy death has us the poorer made. Whilst we with mighty labour it pursue, And after all our toil, not find it due.
Jo. RUTTER.S
TO THE
MEMORY OF IMMORTAL BEN.
To write is easy ; but to write of thee Truth, will be thought to forfeit modesty. So far beyond conceit thy strengths appear, That almost all will doubt, what all must hear. For, when the world shall know, that Pindar's
height,
Plautus his wit, and Seneca's grave weight, Horace his matchless nerves, and that high phrase Wherewith great Lucan doth his readers maze, Shall with such radiant illustration glide, (As if each line to life were propertied) Through all thy works ; and like a torrent move, Rolling the muses to the court of Jove, Wit's general tribe will soon entitle thee Heir to Apollo's ever verdant tree. And 'twill by all concluded be, the stage Is widowed now ; was bed-rid by thy age.
As well as empire, wit his zenith hath, Nor can the rage of time, or tyrant's wrath „
9 Joseph Ratter translated the Cid, from the French of Cor- neille, the first part of which was presented with success at the Cockpit. He was also author of a pastoral tragi-comedy, called the Shepherd's Holiday, 8?o. 1635. The particulars of his life are, it is believed, altogether unknown. GILCHIUST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 393
Encloud so bright a flame : but it will shine In spight of envy, till it grow divine. -As when Augustus reign'd, and war did cease, Rome's bravest wits were usher'd in by peace : So in our halcyon days, we have had now Wits, to which, all that after come, must bow. And should the stage compose herself a crown Of all those wits, which hitherto she has known : Though there be many that about her brow, Like sparkling stones, mightaquicklustre throw; Yet, Shakspeare, Beaumont, Jonson, these three
shall
Make up the gem in the point vertical. And now since JONSON 's gone, we well may say, The stage hath seen her glory and decay. Whose judgment was't refined it ? or who Gave laws, by which hereafter all must go, But solid JONSON ? from whose full strong quill, Each line did like a diamond drop distil, Though hard, yet clear. Thalia that had skipt Before, but like a maygame girl, now stript Of all her mimic jigs, became a sight With mirth to flow each pleas'd spectator's light ; And in such graceful measures, did discover Her beauties now, that every eye turn'd lover.
Who is't shall make with great Sejanus' fall, Not the stage crack, but th' universe and all? Wild Catiline's stern fire, who now shall show, Or quench'd with milk, still'd down by Cicero? Where shall old authors in such words be shown, As vex their ghosts, that they are not their own?
Admit his muse was slow. Tis judgment's fate To move, like greatest princes, still in state. Those planets placed in the higher spheres, End not their motion but in many years; Whereas light Venus and the giddy moon, In one or some few days their courses run,
394 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Slow are substantial bodies : but to things That airy are, has nature added wings. Each trivial poet that can chant a rhyme, May chatter out his own wit's funeral chime: And those slight nothings that so soon are made, Like mushrooms, may together live and fade. The boy may make a squib ; but every line Must be considered, where men spring a mine: And to write things that time can never stain, Will require sweat, and rubbing of the brain. Such were those things he left. For some may be Eccentric, yet with axioms main agree. This I'll presume to say. When time has made Slaughter of kings that in the world have sway'd : A greener bays shall crown BEN JONSON'S name, Than shall be wreath'd about their regal fame. For numbers reach to infinite. But he Of whom I write this, has prevented me, And boldly said so much in his own praise, No other pen need any trophy raise.
Ow. FELTHAM.*
1 It seems somewhat remarkable that nothing should be known of the author of a book so popular as Feltham's u Re- solves" has always been, beyond the bare circumstances related by Oldys in his MS. notes on Langbaine, of his father Thomas Feltham being a Suffolkman, and that Owen was one of three children. Although Owen has many poems scattered up and down, it is upon his prose work that his fame depends; and his u Resolves, though by no means free from pedantry, is rational and pious, and shews a mind of no ordinary strength and attain- ments. If Frltham was indeed the author of the ode in answer to Ben Jonsons address to himself (which is printed by Lang- baine, and afterwards by him called Mr. Oliihaii/s) it must be owned that by the present effusion he was equally ready to do homage to the general merits of the departed bard ; nor did he deteriorate the value of his offering by the coldness of delay.
Si bene quod facias, facias cito : nam citufactum, Gratumerit; ingratwn, gratia tardafacit. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
395
TO THE MEMORY. OF BEN JONSON.
I do not blame their pains, who did not doubt By labour, of the circle to find out The quadrature; nor can I think it strange That others should prove constancy in change. He studied not in vain, who hoped to give A body to the echo, make it live, Be seen, and felt ; nor he whose art would borrow Belief for shaping yesterday, to-morrow : But here I yield ; invention, study, cost, Time, and the art of Art itself is lost. When any frail ambition undertakes For honour, profit, praise, or all their sakes, To speak unto the world in perfect sense, Pure judgment, JONSON, 'tis an excellence Suited his pen alone, which yet to do Requires himself, and 'twere a labour too Crowning the best of Poets : say all sorts Of bravest acts must die, without reports, Count learned knowledge barren, fame abhorr'd, Let memory be nothing but a word ; Grant JONSON the only genius of the times, Fix him a constellation in all rhymes, All height, all secrecies of wit invoke The virtue of his name, to ease the yoke Of barbarism ; yet this lends only praise To such as write, but adds not to his bays : For he will grow more fresh in every story, Out of the perfum'd spring of his own glory.
GEORGE DONNE."
2 George Donne, the mediocrity of whose muse is compen-
396 JONSONUS VIRBIUS. -
A FUNERAL SACRIFICE TO THE SACRED MEMORY OF HIS THRICE HONOURED FATHER,
BEN JONSON.
I CANNOT grave, nor carve ; else would I give Thee statues, sculptures, and thy name should
live
In tombs, and brass, until the stones, or rust Of thine own monument mix with thy dust: But nature has afforded me a slight And easy muse, yet one that takes her flight Above the vulgar pitch. BEN, she was thine, Made by adoption free and genuine ; By virtue of thy charter, which from heaven, By Jove himself, before thy birth was given. The sisters nine this secret did declare, Who of Jove's counsel, and his daughters are. These from Parnassus' hill came running down, And though an infant did with laurels crown. Thrice they him kist, and took him in their arms, And dancing round, encircled him with charms, Pallas her vigin breast did thrice distil Into his lips, and him with nectar fill. When he grew up to years, his mind was all On verses; verses, that the rocks might call
sated in some measure by the warmth of his friendship, appears to have limited his endeavours to measured praises of his com- panions' labours. He was evidently familiar with several poets of eminence, and has commendations prefixed to the plays of Massinger and Ford, as well as before the writings of authors of inferior fame. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 397
To follow him, and hell itself command,
And wrest Jove's three-fold thunder from his hand.
The satyrs oft-times hemm'd him in a ring,
And gave him pipes and reeds to hear him sing;
Whose vocal notes, tun'd to Apollo's lyre,
The syrens, and the muses did admire.
The nymphs to him their gems and corals sent ;
And did with swans, and nightingales present,
Gifts far heneath his worth. The golden ore,
That lies on Tagus or Pactolus' shore,
Might not compare with him, nor that pure sand
The Indians find upon Hydaspes' strand.
His fruitful raptures shall grow up to seed.
And as the ocean does the rivers feed,
So shall his wit's rich veins, the world supply
With unexhausted wealth, and ne'er be dry.
For whether he, like a fine thread does file
His terser poems in a comic style,
Or treats of tragic furies, and him list,
To draw his lines out with a stronger twist;
Minerva's, nor Arachne's loom can shew
Such curious tracts ; nor does the spring bestow
Such glories on the field, or Flora's bowers,
As his work smile with figures, and with flowers.
Never did so much strength, or such a spell
Of art, and eloquence of papers dwell.
For whilst that he in colours, full and true,
Men's natures, fancies, and their humours drew
In method, order, matter, sense and grace,
Fitting each person to his time and place ;
Knowing to move, to slack, or to make haste,
Binding the middle with the first and last:
He framed all minds, and did all passions stir,
And with a bridle guide the theatre.
To say now he is dead, or to maintain A paradox he lives, were labour vain :
398 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Earth must to earth. But his fair soul does wear Bright Ariadne's crown ; or is placed near, Where Orpheus' harp turns round with Laeda's
swan :
Astrologers, demonstrate where you can, Where his star shines, and what part of the sky, Holds his compendious divinity. There he is fix'd ; I know it, 'cause from thence, Myself have lately received influence. The reader smiles ; but let no man deride The emblem of my love, not of my pride.
SHACKERLEY MARMION.*
ON THE BEST OF ENGLISH POETS,
BEN JONSON,
DECEASED.
So seems a star to shoot ; when from our sight Falls the deceit, not from its loss of light ;
3 Shackerley Marmion, heir of the Shackerley's of Little Longsdon in Derbyshire, was the eldest son of Shackerley Marmion, lord of the manor of Aynho in Northamptonshire, where the poet was born in January 1602. Wood has attributed the dissipation of the family estate to the Shackerley before us, from the habitual prodigality of poets ; but the estate was alie- nated by the elder of the name in the 13th year of James I., when the poet was only 1 3 years of age. The poet Shackerley was educated at Thame, and afterwards at Wadham College, where in 1 624 he took his master of arts degree. Rejoined sir John Suckling's memorable regiment, and died after a short illness in 1639. He has left several plays, some of which possess considerable merit, and has commendatory verses prefixed to the writings of hit contemporaries. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
399
We want use of a soul, who merely know What to our passion, or our sense we owe : By such a hollow glass, our cozen'd eye Concludes alike, all dead, whom it sees die. Nature is knowledge here, but unrefin'd, Both differing, as the body from the mind ; Laurel and cypress else, had grown together, And withered without memory to either : Thus undistinguish'd, might in every part The sons of earth vie with the sons of art. Forbid it, holy reverence, to his name, Whose glory hath fill'd up the book of fame ! Where in fair capitals, free, uncontroll'd, JONSON, a work of honour lives enroll'd : Creates that book a work ; adds this far more, 'Tis finished what unperfect was before. The muses, first in Greece begot, in Rome Brought forth, our best of poets hath call'dhome, Nurst, taught, and planted here ; that Thames
now sings
The Delphian altars, and the sacred springs. By influence of this sovereign, like the spheres, Moved each by other, the most low (in years) Consented in their harmony ; though some Malignantly aspected, overcome With popular opinion, aim'd at name More than desert : yet in despight of shame Even they, though foil'd by his contempt of
wrongs,
Made music to the harshness of their songs. Drawn to the life of every line and limb, He (in his truth of art, and that in him) Lives yet, and will, whilst letters can be read ; The loss is ours ; now hope of life is dead. Great men, and worthy of report, must fall Into their earth, and sleeping there sleep all :
400 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Since he, whose pen in every strain did use To drop a verse, and every verse a muse, Is vow'd to heaven ; as having with fair glory, Sung thanks of honour, or some nobler story. The court, the university, the heat Of theatres, with what can else heget Belief, and admiration, clearly prove Our POET first in merit, as in love: Yet if he do not at his full appear, Survey him in his WORKS, and know him there.
JOHN FORD/
UPON THE DEATH OF MASTER BEN JONSON.
TTS not secure to be too learn'd, or good, These arehard names, and now scarce understood: Dull flagging souls with lower parts, may have The vain ostents of pride upon their grave, Cut with some fair inscription, and true cry, That both the man and Epitaph there lie ! Whilst those that soar above the vulgar pitch, And are not in their bags, but studies rich, Must fall without a line, and only be A theme of wonder, not of poetry.
* John Ford was the second son of Thomas Ford, Esq. of Bagtor, a hamlet in the parish of Ilsington in Devonshire, wnere the poet was baptized the 17th April 1589. On the 6th No- yember 1602, Ford was entered of the Middle Temple, and while there published " Fame's Memorial, or the earl of Devon- shire deceased," a poem, 4to 1606. He wrote for the stage as early as 1613, and as he ceased his dramatic labours in 1639, it is likely he did not long survive that period. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 401
He that dares praise the eminent, he must Either be such, or but revile their dust : And so must we, great Genius of brave verse ! With our injurious zeal profane thy herse. It is a task above our skill, if we Presume to mourn our own dead elegy; Wherein, like bankrupts in the stock of fame, To patch our credit up, we use thy name; Or cunningly to make our dross to pass, Do set a jewel in a foil of brass: No, 'tis the glory of thy well-known name, To be eternized, not in verse but fame. JONSON ! that's weight enough to crown thy
stone :
And make the marble piles to sweat and groan Under the heavy load ! a name shall stand Fix'd to thy tomb, till time's destroying hand Crumble our dust together, and this all Sink to its grave, at the great funeral.
If some less learned age neglect thy pen, Eclipse thy flames, and lose the name of BEN, In spight of ignorance thou must survive In thy fair progeny ; that shall revive Thy scattered ashes in the skirts of death, And to thy fainting name give a new breath; That twenty ages after, men shall say (If the world's story reach so long a day,) Pindar and Plautus with their double quire Have well translated BEN the English lyre. What sweets were in the Greek or Latin known, A natural metaphor has made thine own : Their lofty language in thy phrase so drest, And neat conceits in our own tongue exprest, That ages hence, critics shall question make Whether the Greeks and Romans English spake. And though thy fancies were too high for those That but aspire to Cockpit-flight, or prose,
VOL. ix. D d
402 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Though the fine plush and velvets of the age Did oft for sixpence damn thee from the stage, And with their mast and acorn stomachs ran To the nasty sweepings of thy serving-man, Before thy cates, and swore thy stronger food, 'Cause not by them digested, was not good; These moles thy scorn and pity did but raise, They were as fit to judge as we to praise. Were all the choice of wit and language shown In one brave epitaph upon thy stone, Had learned Donne, Beaumont, and Randolph, all Surviv'd thy fate, and sung thy funeral, Their notes had been too low : take this from me, None but thyself could write a verse for thee.
R. BRIDEOAKE.*
* Ralph son of Richard and Cicely Bridecake, was born at Chetham Hill near Manchester about 1614. On the 15th July 1630 he was admitted of Brazen Nose College, but removed to New College, where in 1636 he was created M. A. by royal mandate. Being patronised by the earl of Derby, he defended that nobleman's house against tha parliamentary forces ; but the earl being taken prisoner at the battle of Worcester, Bridecake plied Lenthai with so much zeal and skill to preserve his pa- tron^ life that, though he was unsuccessful in his object, he so interested the Speaker that he was appointed preacher to the parliament Notwithstanding his acceptance of this office, upon the restoration be was appointed chaplain to Charles II., in- stalled canon of Windsor, dean of Salisbury, and ultimately advanced to the see of Chichester. While in the active discharge of his episcopal duties he was seized with a fever that hastily terminated his existence on the 5th October 1678. He was buried in St. George's Chapel Windsor, where a handsome monument remains to his memory. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
403
ON
MASTER BEN JONSON.
POET of princes, Prince of poets (we, If to Apollo, well may pray to thee.) Give glo\v- worms leave to peep, who till thy night Could not be seen, we darken'd were with light. For stars t' appear after the fall of the sun, Is at the least modest presumption. I've seen a great lamp lighted by the small Spark of a flint, found in a field or wall. Our thinner verse faintly may shadow forth A dull reflection of thy glorious worth ; And (like a statue homely fashion'd) raise Some trophies to thy memory, though not praise. Those shallow sirs, who want sharp sight to look On the majestic splendour of thy book. That rather choose to hear an Archy's prate, Than the full sense of a learn'd laureat, May, when they see thy name thus plainly writ, Admire the solemn measures of thy wit, And like thy works beyond a gaudy show Of boards and canvas, wrought by Inigo. Ploughmen who puzzled are with figures, come By tallies to the reckoning of a sum ; And mi Ik- sop heirs, which from their mother's lap Scarce travell'd, know far countries by a map. Shakspeare may make grief merry, Beaumont's
style
Ravish and melt anger into a smile; In winter nights, or after meals they be, I must confess, very good company : Dd2
404 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
But thou exact'st our best hours industry ; We may read them ; we ought to study thee: Thy scenes are precepts, every verse doth give Counsel, and teach us not to laugh, but live.
Thou that with towering thoughts presum'st
so high,
(SwelPd with a vain ambitious tympany) To dream on sceptres, whose brave mischief calls The blood of kings to their last funerals, Learn from Sejanus his high fall, to prove To thy dread sovereign a sacred love ; Let him suggest a reverend fear to thee, And may his tragedy thy lecture be. Learn the compendious age of slippery power That's built on blood ; and may one little hour Teach thy bold rashness that it is not safe To build a kingdom on a Csesar's grave.
Thy plays were whipt anci libel I'd. only 'cause They are good, and savour of our kingdom's laws. Histrio-Mastix (lightning like) doth wound Those things alone that solid are and sound. Thus guilty men hate justice ; so a glass Is sometimes broke for shewing a foul face. There's none that wish thee rods instead of bays, But such, whose very hate adds to thy praise.
Let scribblers (that write post, and versify With no more leisure than we cast a dye) Spur on their Pegasus, and proudly cry, This verse I made in the twinkling of an eye. Thou couldst have done so, hadst thou thought
it fit ;
But 'twas the wisdom of thy muse to sit - And weigh each syllable; suffering nought to pass But what could be no better than it was. Those that keep pompous state ne'er go in haste ; Thou went'st before them all, though not so fast.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 405
While their poor cobweb-stuff finds as quick fate As birth, and sells like almanacks out of date; The marble glory of thy labour'd rhyme Shall live beyond the calendar of time. Who will their meteors 'bove thy sun advance? Thine are the works of judgment, theirs of chance. How this whole kingdom's in thy debt 1 we have From others periwigs and paints, to save Our ruin'd sculls and faces ; but to thee We owe our tongues, and fancies remedy. Thy poems make us poets ; we may lack (Reading thy Book) stolen sentences and sack. He that can but one speech of thine rehearse, Whether he will or no, must make a verse : Thus trees give fruit, the kernels of that fruit, Do bring forth trees, which in more branches
shoot.
Our canting English, of itself alone, (I had almost said a confusion) Is now all harmony ; what we did say Before was tuning only, this is play. Strangers, who cannot reach thy sense, will throng To hear us speak the accents of thy tongue As unto birds that sing ; if't be so good When heard alone, what is't when understood ! Thou shalt be read as classic authors ; and, As Greek and Latin, taught in every land. The cringing Monsieur shall thy language vent, When he would melt his wench with compliment. Using thy phrases he may have his wish Of a coy nun, without an angry pish ! And yet in all thy poems there is shown Such chastity, that every line's a zone. Rome will confess that thou mak'st Caesar talk In greater state and pomp than he could walk : Catiline's tongue is the true edge of swords, We now not only hear, but feel his words.
406 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Who Tully in thy idiom understands, Will swear that his orations are commands. But that which could with richer language
dress
The highest sense, cannot thy worth express. Had I thy own invention (which affords Words above action, matter above words) To crown thy merits, I should only be Sumptuously poor, low in hyperbole.
RICHARD WEST.*
TO THE MEMORY OF
BENJAMIN JONSON.
OUR bays, methinks, are withered, and they look As if (though thunder-free) with envy, strook ; While the triumphant cypress boasts to be Design'd, as fitter for thy company.
Where shall we now find one dares boldly write, Free from base flattery yet as void of spight ? That grovels not in Js satires, but soars high, Strikes at the mounting vices, can descry With his quick eagle's pen those glorious crimes, That either dazzle, or affright the times ? Thy strength of judgment oft did thwart the tide O' the foaming multitude, when to their side
* Richard West, the son of Thomas West of Northampton, was admitted student of Christ Church, from Westminster §chool in 1632 ; took his degrees of bachelor and master of arts, and daring the rebellion joiued the soldiers of his sovereign. At the restoration he became rector of Shillingston in Dorsetshire, and prebendary of Wells. He published some sermons, and has " a Poem to the pious memory of his dear brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas Randolph/' prefixed to the works of that excellent dra- matic writer. GILCUEIST,
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 407
Throng'd plush, and silken censures, whilst it
chose, (As that which could distinguish men from
clothes,
Faction from judgment) still to keep thy bays From the suspicion of a vulgar praise.
But why wrong I thy memory whilst I strive, In such a verse as mine to keep't alive? Well we may toil, and shew our wits the rack, Torture our needy fancies, yet still lack
Worthy expressions thy great loss to moan; Being none can fully praise thee but thy own.
R. MEADE.'
UPON THE
DEATH OF BENJAMIN JONSON.
LET thine own Sylla, BEN, arise, and try To teach my thoughts an angry extasy, That I may fright Contempt, and with just darts Of fury stick thy palsy in their hearts !
6 Robert Meade was born in Fleet Street in 1616 ; after receiving the earlier part of his education at Westminster, he removed to Christ Church Oxford, where he took the degree of M. A., and afterwards a doctor's degree in physic. When the rebellion broke out, in common with almost all the poet» of his day, — he followed the fortunes of his royal and indulgent master, and was appointed by the governor of Oxford to treat with the Parliamentary army concerning the surrender of that city. After the death of the king, he followed Charles II. into France, and was employed by that monarch "as his agent in Sweden. Returning into England, he died, in the same house, it is said, in which he was born, the 12th Feb. 1652. He left one comedy, " The combat of Love and Friendship," print**! in 4to. 1654. GILCHRIST.
408 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
But why do I rescue thy name from those That only cast away their ears in prose? Or, if some hetter brain arrive so high, To venture rhymes, 'tis but court balladry, Singing thy death in such an uncouth tone, As it had been an execution. What are his faults (O envy !) — That you speak English at court, the learned stage acts Greek ? That Latin he reduced, and could command That which your Shakspeare scarce could under- stand ?
That he exposed you, zealots, to make known Your profanation, and not his own? That one of such a fervent nose, should be Posed by a puppet in Divinity ? Fame write them on his tomb, and let him have Their accusations for an epitaph : Nor think it strange if such thy scenes defy, That erect scaffolds 'gainst authority. Who now will plot to cozen vice, and tell The trick and policy of doing well ? Others may please the stage, his sacred fire Wise men did rather worship than admire : His lines did relish mirth, but so severe ; That as they tickled, they did wound the ear. Well then, such virtue cannot die, though stones Loaded with epitaphs do press his bones : He lives to me ; spite of this martyrdom, BEN, is the self-same poet in the tomb. You that can aldermen new wits create, Know, JONSON'S skeleton is laureat.
H. RAMSAY/
7 H. Ramsay was educated at Christ Church, Oxford, whence, in 1638, he contributed a poem to the " Musarum Oxoniensium Charts teria pro serenissima Regina Maria, recens e nixus laborioji discrimine recepta^ printed in 4to. GiLCHRisr.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 409
En
JONSONUS NOSTER
Lyricorum Drammaticorumque
Coryphaeus
Qui
Pallade auspice
Laurum d Grtecia ipsaque Roma rapuit,
Et
Fau$to omine
In Britanniam transtulit
nostram :
Nunc
Invidia major
Fato, non JEmulu
cessit.
Anno Dom. CIOCIXXXVII.
Id. Nonar.
FR. WORTLEY,*
Bar.
» Sir Francis Wortley, son of sir Richard Wortley of Wort- ley in Yorkshire, became a commoner of Magdalen College (according to Wood) in 1610, and a baronet the year following. When the parliament took up arms in defiance of the king, sir Edward fortified Wortley Hall, and defended it for the king's service. Upon the declining of the royal cause, sir Edward was made prisoner and committed to the Tower. Compounding for his release from imprisonment by forfeiting a large portion of his estate, he became embarrassed with debts. Wood, from whom this account is taken, has given a list of his writings ; but professes to be ignorant of the time of sir Edward's death.
GILCHRIST.
410 JONSONUS VIRBIUS
IN OBITUM
BEN JONSONI
POETARUM FACILE PRINCIPJS.
In qua projicior discrimina ? guale trementem Traxit in officium pietas temeraria musam ? Me miserum f incusso pert entorf rigor e^ et umbrA Terr it us ingenti videor parsfoneris ipse Quod celebro ; J'amce concept a molefatisco, Exiguumque struts restringuit programs ignem.
Non tamen absistam, nam si spes talibus ausis Evcidat, extabo laudum JONSONE tuarum Uberior test is : tot idem quos secula norunt. Solus tu dignus, cujus prceconia spiret, Deliquum musarum, et victifacta poet a.
Quis nescit, Romane tuos, in utrdque triumphos Militia, laurique decus mox sceptra secutum f Virgilius quoque Ccesar erat, necferre priorem Noverat : Augustumfato dilatus in <zvum, Ut regent vatemjactarcs regia, teque Suspiceres gemino prcdustrem Roma monarcha.
En penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos, Munerajactantes eadem, similique beatos Fortuna ; h&c quoque secla suum videre Maronem, Ctzsarei vixit qui Icetus imagine sceptri, Implevitque suum Romano carmine nomen.
Utque viam cernas, longosque ad summa paratus ; En series eadem, vatumque simillimus ordo. Quis neget incultum Lucreti carmen, et Enni Deformes numeros, musa incrementa Latince ?
JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
411
Hand aliter nostri pramissa in principis ortum Ludicra Chauceri, classisque incompta sequentum ; Nascenti apta parum divina hcec machina regno, In nostrum servandafuit tantceque decebat Prcelusisse Deos avi certamina fames ; Nee geminos vates, nee te Shakspeare silebo, Aut quicquid sacri nostros covjecit in annos Consiliumfati : per seros ite nepotes Illustres animce, demissaque nomina semper Candidior fama excipiat ; sed par cite divi, Si major a vacant, si pagina sanctior urget. Est vobis decor, et natives gratia Musce, Qua trahit atque tenet, qua me modd l&ta remittit, Excitum modd in alt a rapit, versatque legentem.
Sed quam te memorem vatum Dem : O nova gentis Gloria et ignoto turgescem musa cothurno / Quam solidat vires, quam pingui robore surgens Invaditque hauritque animam : hand temerarius ille Qui mos est reliquis, probat obvia, magnaquefundit Felici tantum genio ; sed destinat ictum, Sed vajer et sapiens cunctator prcevia sternit, Furtivoque gradu subvectus in ardua, tandem Dimittit pleno correptosjulmine sensus.
Hue, precor, accedat quisquis primo igne calentem Ad numeros sua musa vocat, nondumque subacti Ingenii novitate tumens in carminajertur Non norma? legisve memor ; quisferre soluti Naufragium ingenii poterit, mentisque ruinam ? Quanta pulchrior hie mediis qui regnat in undis, Turbine correptus nullo : cui spiritus ingens Non artem vincit : medio sed verus in astro, Princeps insano pugnantem numine musam Edomat, et cudit suspenso metra furore.
In rabiem Caiilina tuam conversus et artes Qualia molitur ; quail bacchatur hiatu ? En mugitum oris, conjurat deque Camcence, Divinasfurias et non imitabilefulmen I
412 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
O verum Ciceronis opus, linguceque disertce Elogium spirans ! O vox ceterna Catonis, Ccesaream reseransfraudem, retrahensque sequaces Patricks in ccedem, et funera certa reorum I Quisfando expedlat primes solennia pompce, Et circumfusi studium plaususquc theatri f Non tu divini Cicero dux inclyte facti, Romave majores vidit servata triumphos.
Celsior incedis nostro, Sejane, cothurno Quctm te Romani, quam te tua fata fereb ant : Hinc magis insigni, cam, cekbrique ruina Volveris, et gravius terrent evempla theatri.
At tu stas nunquam ruituro in culmine vates, Despiciens auras, et Jallax numen amid, Tutus honore tuo, genitceque voluminefamce. A Capreis verbosa et grandis epistola frustra Venerat, offenso major fruerere Tonante, Si sic crevisses, si sic, Sejane, stetisses. 0 fortunatum, qui te, JONSONE, sequutus Contexit suajila, suique est nominis author.
T. TERRENT.3
5 This poem by Thomas Terrent is a very creditable proof of his skill in the composition of Latin poetry, in which it should seem he principally exercised his muse, since we find a similar tribute prefixed by the same author to the plays and poems of Thomas Randolph.
Terrent was educated at Christ Church Oxford, where he took the degree of master of arts, and was tutor of the College. He is entirely overlooked by Antony Wood, unless he be the Jerumad Terrent said to be the tutor of Cartwright the poet. (Athene, % 35,) which seems not unlikely. GILCHRIST.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 413
VATUM PRINCIPI
BEN. JONSONO
SACRUM.
Poet arum Maxime ! Sive tu mortem, sive ecstasin passus, Jaces verendum et plus quam hominisfunus.
Sic post receptam sacrifuroris gloriam, Cum exhaustum jam numen decoxit emerita vates Jugique Jluxu non reditura se prodegit anima,
Jacuit Sibylla cadaver, Vel trepidis adhuc cultoribus consulendum. Nulli se longius indulsit Deus, nulli cegrius valedLvit; Pares testatusflammas, Dum exul, ac dum incola. Annorumque jam ingruente vespere, Pectus tuum, tanquam poeseos horizonta,
Non sine rubore suo reliquit : Vatibns nonnullls ingentia prodere ; nee scire datur :
Magnum aliis mysterlum^ majus sibi, Ferarum ritu vaticinantium
Inclusumjactant numen quod nesciunt,
Et instinctu sapiunt non intellecto. Quibus dum ingenium facit audaciay prodest
ignorare. Tibi primo contigit furore frui proprio,
Et numen regere tuum. Dum pari lucta qfflatibus indicium commisisti,
Bis entheatus : Allasqm musis mutas addidisti, artes etscientias,
414 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Tui plenus poet a. Quifurorem insanice eximens Docuisti, et sobrie Aonios latices hauriri.
Primus omnium, Qui ejfrtenem caloris luxuriem frugi consilio casti-
gaveris,
Ut tandem ingenium sine venid placiturum Possideret Britannia, Miraretur or bis,
Nihilque inveniret scriptis tuis donandum, pr&ter famam.
Qubdprologi igitur
Velut magnatumpropylcea domini titulos profcrunt, Perpetuumquecelebraturargumentum,ipse author, Non arrogant is hoc est, sedjudicantis,
Aut vaticinantis,
Virtutis enim illud et yatis est, sibi placere. Proinde non invidid tantum nostrd, sed laude tud Magnum te prodirejusserunt fata. Qui integrum nobis poetam solus exhibuisti,
Unusque omnes exprimens. Cumfrondes alii laureas decerpunt, tu totum nemus
vindicas, Nee adulator laudas, nee invidus perstringis :
Utrumque exosus,
Velsacrificiotuo mella, velmedicinceaceturnimmiscere. Nee intenso nimis spiritu avenam dirupisti, Nee exill nimis tubam emaculasti ; Servatis utrinque legibus, kx ipse foetus. Una obsequii reiigione imperium nactus es :
Rerum servus, non temporum. Ita omnium musarum amasius, Omnibus perpetuum certamen astas.
Sit Homeri gloria
Urbes de se certantes habere, de te disputant muses, Qui seu cothurno niteris, inter poetas tonans pater, Sive soccum pede complcs rotundo,
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 415
Et epigrammata dictas agenda, Facetiasque manibus exprimendas, Adoranda posteris duds vestigia, et nobis unus es
theatrum metari.
Non arena spectacula scena exhibuit tua, Nee poemata, sedpoesin ipsam parturiit, Populoque mentes, et leges ministramt, Quibus te damnare possent, si tu poteras peccare.
Sic et oculos spec t ant i pr test as, et spectacula ; Scenamquecondis qua legi magis gestiat quam spectari. Non histrioni suum delitura ingenium, Alii, queis nullus Apollo, sed Mercurius numen, Quibus afflatus prastant vinum et amasia,
Truduntque in scenam vitia, morbo poeta. Quibus musa pagis primisque plaustris apta, Pramoriturum vati carmen, Non edunt, sed abortiunt ; Cui if sum etiam pralum conditorium est, NovAque lucince fraude in tenebras emittuntur au- thor es,
Dum poemata sic ut diaria, Suo tantum anne et regioni effingunt. Sic quoque Plauti moderni sales, Ipsi tantum Plant o <rJyxf0w : Et vernacula nimium Aristophanis facetice Non extra suum theatrum plausus imitnerunt :
Tu interim
Sacull spiras quoque post futuri genium. Idemque tuum et or bis theatrum est. Dum immensum, cumque lectore crescens carmen,
Et perenne unofundis poema verbo, Tuas tibi gratulamurf&liccs moras ! Quanquam quid moras reprehendimus, quas nostn
Jecit revercntia ? JEternum scribi debuit quicquid tfternum legi.
Poteras tu solus Stylo sceptris majore orbem moderari.
416" JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Romce Eritannos subjugavit gladius,
Romam Britannis calamus tuns, Quam sic vinci gestientem, Cothurno Angliaco sublimiorem quam suis collibus
cernimus.
Demum quod majus est, tetatem nobis nostram sub- jicis;
Oraculique vicarius,
Quodjussit Deus, fides pr&stat sacerdos> Homines seipsos noscere instituens.
Lingua nostra
Tibi collactanea tecum crevit, Vocesque patrias, et tuas simul formasti. Nee tndigenam amplius, sed JONSONI jactamus fa-
cundiam, Ut inde semper tibi contingat tua lingua celebrari ;
Qui et Romam Disert lores docuisti voces. Mancipiali denuo iocomate super bient em,
GrcEciamque etiam Orbis magistram excoluisti, Nunc alia quam Attica Minerva eloquent em. Te solo dives pot eras aliorum ingenia contemneret Et vel sine illis evasisses ingcnii compendium :
Sed ut ille pictor,
Mundo daturus par idea exemplar, Quas hinc et inde pulchritudines Sparserat naiuray Collegit artiftx :
Form&que rivulos palantes in unum cogens oceanum, Inde exire jussit alteram sine ncevo Fenerem.
Ita tibi parem machinam molito, In hoc etiam ut pictura erat poesis : Alii inde author es mat tries ingenio tuo accedunt> Tu illis ars, et lima adder is. Et si poet a audient illi, tu ipsa poesis ; Authorum non alius calamus, sed author.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 417
Scriptores diu sollicitos tcipso tandem docens, Quern debeat genium habere victurus liber. Qui pracesserunt, quotquot erant, viarum tantum judices fuerunt :
Tu solum Columna.
Quaprodest atiis virtus, obstat domino. . Et qui cceteros emendatius transcripseras,
Ipse transcribe ncscis Par prioribus congressm, futuris impar, Scenes Perpetuus Dictator.
ROB. WARING.*
EPITAPHIUM IN BEN. JONSON.
Adsta, hospes ! pretium mcrce est, sub isto Quid sit, discere, conditum sepulchro. Socci delicia ; decus cothurni ; Scents pompa ; cor et caput thtatri ; Linguarum sacer helluo ; perennis Dejluxus venerum ; scatebra salsi Currens lenejoci, sed innocentis ; Artis perspicuum jubar ; coruscum
6 Robert Waring, the son of Edward Waring of Lea in Staffordshire, and of Oldbury in Shropshire, was born in Stafford- shire in 1613, was elected into Christ Church Oxford from Westminster school, and took the degree of master of arts. In 1647 he was chosen proctor and historical professor : but, fol- lowing the loyal example of his companions in taking up arms for the King, he was ejected by the Parliamentary visitors. He then travelled into France with sir William Whitmore, " a great patron of distressed cavaliers," — but returning to England, he contracted an inveterate disorder which terminated his existence in 1658. GILCHRIST.
VOL, IX. E C
418 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
Sydus ; judicii pumex, profundus t)octrmce puttus, tamen serenus ; Scrip tor um genius ; poeticus dux, Quantum O sub rigido latet lapillo /
WILLIAM BEW.T N. Coll. Oxon* soc.
IN OBITUM BEN. JONSON.
Nee sic excidimus : pars tantiim vilior audit Imperium Libitlna tuum, calestior urget JEthereos tractus, mediasque supervolat auras, Et velut effusum spissa inter nubila lumen Ingenii strictura micat : foslicior ille, Quisquis ab hoc victuram actamt lampada Phabo. Infamulantejaces accendimus, idque severce, Quod damns alterius vitce, concedimus umbrce. Sic caput Ismarii, casa cervice, Poeta, Nescio quid rapido vocale immurmurat Hebro,
7 William Bew was born at Hagborne in Berkshire, and, after being educated at Winchester school, removed to New College Oxford, of which he became fellow in 1637, and where he took his degree as master of arts in 1644. When his rebel- lious subjects took up arms against the king, Bew joined the soldiers of his sovereign, and had a majority of horse. Being chosen proctor for 1648, he was set aside by the parliamentary visitors, and, being ejected from his fellowship by the same au- thority, he quitted England and served the Swedes in. their war against the Poles. Hitherto arms appear to haye been his pro- fession,— but more peaceable times arriving, with the return of Charles IL, Bew returned, and, being restored to his fellowship, he became vicar of Ebberbury in Oxfordshire. On the $2d June 1679, he was consecrated bishop of Landaff, and died, in his ninetieth year, on the 10th Feb. 1705. GJICHBISI.
JONSONUS VIRBIUS. 419
Memnonis adverse sic stridit chordula Phcebo, Datque modos magicos, tenuesque reciprocat auras. Sea tu grandiloqui torques vagafrcena theatri, En tibi vox geminis applaudit publica palmis ; Seujuvat in numeros, palantes cogere voces Mceonid JONSONE ckeli, te pronus amantum Prosequitur ccetus, studioso imitamine vatum. BEN JAM IN i insignis quondam quintuplice ditis Suffitu me,ns<z, densaque paropside, sedtu Millena plus parte alios excedis, et auctis Accumulas dapibusy proprid de dote, placentam.
SAM. EVANS, LL. Bacc. No. Coll. Oxon. Soc.
IN
BEN. JONSON.
Qudd martes Epico tonat cothurno,
Sive aptat Elegis leves amores,
Stu sales Epigrammatumjocosos
Promit, seu numerosiora plectra
Jungit verba, sibi secundat orsa
Cyrrhaus, nee Hyanti& sorores
Uili dexteriusfavent poetce,
Hoc cum Mceonide sibi et Marone,
Et cum Callimacho, et simul Tibullo
Commune est, aliisque cum trecentis :
Sed quod Angtia quotquot eruditos
J?<zcundo ediderit sin a poet as
Acceptos referat sibi, sua omnes
Hos mdustriafinxerit) labosque
JONSONI, hoc proprium est suumque totum,
Qui Potmatafecit et Poetas.
R. BRIDECAKE.*
* Bishop of Chichester. See p. 402.
EeS
420 JONSONUS VIRBIUS.
WOTS QVVTI Tra^ffpj TTOTWa MoDcra, Kai Bjoojiu^, xai Eecof, xai Xagmov otprtroxov Aa£e veoptSi, <nrotipe TS
' a»
Ayvov ^eX^ivoaj <p<Xrpov ' g7r< MaJcra
Awcv» V
H*
[421 ]
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Abbot Antony, v. 361. acates, v. 201. accidence, the, v. 204. accommodate, i. 38. aconite, iii. 88. acop, iv 88. acme, v. 168.
Acts and Monuments, ii. 119. iii. 354. Adam, iv. 49. Adam scrivener, iv. 488. Adelantado, ii. 194. Adonis' gardens, ii. 162. adrop, iv. 69. advised, v. 226. j5isop (player), ii. 51O. jEsculape, viii. 159. affects, ii. 281. affront, iv. 51. Agnes le Clear, iv. 437. Ajax, iii. 456.
- - viii. 248. Albumazar, iv. 3. alchemists (pious) iv. 58. Aldgate, iii. 35O. alfarez, v. 376. Allen Edward, viii. 199. Allestree Richard, vi. 81.
vi. 124.
Allobroges, iv. 287. aludel, iv, 6\.
ambitious ears, iii. 184. amber spoons, iv. 57. Ambojna, v. 244. ambre, ii. 349. Ambree Mary, iii. 433. amused, iii. 131. Anabaptist, iii. 396. anadem, vii. 83. anenst, iv. 87- angels, ii. 158. angel (bird,) vi. 290. angry boys, iii. 360.
* iv. 106.
Anna, St. vi. 472. antimasque, vii. 251* antiperastasis, ii. 371 • Antonio Balladino, vi. 325. Antonius, iv. 266. Apicius, iv. 57. apperil, v. 137.
- - - vi. 117-
- - - vi. 159. Apollo (room) v. 229. apostle spoons, iv. 384. apprentice at law, vi. 59 apted, ii. 326. Arcadia, the, ii. 71.
ii. 179.
iv. 479
Arches, iv. 361. Archy, v. 242.
- - - viii 28
422
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Archbishop of Spalato; v. 247. Arion, viii, 29 Aristophanes, ii. 19.
- v. 202.
arms, to set up, v. 229. arms crossed, ii. 18. arride, ii. 52.
Arundel countess of, vii. 42.
- - - - earl of, vii. 54. vii. 393.
arsedine, iv. 405. Arthur o' Bradley, iv. 401. Arthur's show, vi. 187. Ashley, sir John, vii. 55. assay, to take, vi. 270. athanor, iv. 62. atone, iii. 454. attorney, by, iv. 76. Aubigny, lord, iii. 4.
viii. 281.
lady, viii. 281.
audacious, iii, 385. Augusta, madam, iv. 46. Augustus, ii. 486. Aulularia, v. 218. Austriac lip, iv. 12O. authentical, ii. 136. aunt, iv. 411.
- - vii. 307. away with, ii. 319.
iv. 400.
B
Baal, v. 241. babion, ii. 240. Bacon, lord, viii. 440. baffle, v, 127- bagatine, iii. 219. Baiards, iv. 86. balloo, iii. 216. bale of dice, v. 334. bald coachman, v. 57.
v. 246.
balneum, iv. 61. Bank-side, ii. 188. Banks' horse, ii. 152.
Banbury man, iv. 360.
vii, 419.
barbers, ii. 450. barber of prayers, iii. 397- Barbican, ix. 39. barbing gold, iv. 19. Barlow, Dr. vi. 20. barmy froth, ii. 519. barriers, vii. 174. Bartholomew pig, iv. 398. Bases, ii. 434. basket, iv. 19. bason, iii. 412. bathing tub, ii. 254. batten, v. 232. Battle of Alcazar, ii. 458; bawson, vi. 278. bay-leaf, ii. 511. bay-window, ii. 310. beans, to throw, iii, 275. bear-garden, iv. 366. bear in hand, iii. 174. bearded jugs, v. 338. beat bason, v. 410. beaten knights, iii. 491. beaver hats, ii. 248. Beauforts, v. 485. Beaumont, Francis, viii. 181.
- — - sir John, viii. 335. Bedford, countess of, vii. 19. beech coal, iv. 52. beg for a concealment, i. 107. beg for a riot, iii. 467. beg land, ii. 508. Bellerophon (frag, of), iii. 171 bells, morrice, ii. 5O. below the salt, ii. 259. Ben, Antony, viii. 397- bencher's phrase, i. 103. benjamin, ii. 246. berlina, iii. 326. Bermudas, iv. 429.
v. 429.
viii. 361.
bescurnbers, ii. 520. besognoso, ii. 342.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
423
best plotter, vi. 327. Bethlem Gebor, v. 328. better natures, ii. 545. Bevil, lady, vii. 2O. bezoar stone, ii. 191. Bias, ii. 403. bid- stand, ii. 147. biggin, iii. 315.
iii. 417.
bilive, vi. 277. bilk, to talk, vi. 136. bills, ii. 291. bill-men, v. 179. bindweed, vii. 308, bird-eyed, iii. 239. bite nose, ii. 184. black fellow, ii. S9. black-guard, ii. 16'9.
iii. 408.
- vii. 250.
black sanctus, viii. 12. blanks, ii. 142.
v. SO.
blazon arms, ii. 401.
blin, vi. 289.
Blinkinsops, v. 361.
blue waiters, i. 52.
blue order, vi. 338.
blunt, at the, iii. 46O.
Blurt, vi. 158.
board, iv. 221.
Bodin, iii. 267-
Bolanus, ii. 435.
bolted, iv. 65.
bolt-head, iv. 51.
Bombast (Paracelsus) vii. 248.
Bonnefonius, iii. 347-
Bonnibel, iv. 102.
bonny-clabber, v. 330.
Bolton, prior, v. 328.
book-holder, iv. 366.
boot, no, i. 21.
boots, i. 36.
borachio, v. 44.
bordello, i. 17-
Bosoms' inn, vii. 281.
boss, viii. 9. boud, iv. 221. bouge, vii. 217. bouge of court, vii. 428. bourd, iv. 221. bovoli, ii. 265. boy of Burton, v. 134. boy of Norwich, v. 142. brache, iv. 19. Bradamante, iv. 71 • braggat, vii. 378. brake, iii. 462.
- - viii. 315. branched, v. 425. brave, the, viii. 236. bravery, i. 11. braveries, iii. 358. breast, vii. 412. breathe upon, ii. 33. breathe, to, viii. 167» Bretnor, v. 17. Breton, Nic. viii. 350. bride ale, iii. 391. bride's hair, viii. 311. bridges, iv. 334. brief, vi. 233. brize, ii. 441. broken beer, vii. 433. brooch, ii. 406. Brome, iv. 361.
v. 449.
viii. 355.
Broughton, iii. 213.
iv. 78.
iv. 144.
Brown, W. viii. 343. Buccleugh, earl of, vii. 355. Buckingham, marquis, vii.367.
------ marchioness, vii.
385.
- countess, vii. 388.
Bucklersbury, viii. 134. Budge-row, iv. 376. bufo, iv. 85. bulled, vi. 256. bullions, v. 89.
424
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
bumbard, vii. 217. Bungay's dog, vi. 166. Burgallion, i. 110. Burges, John, viii 447. Burleigh, lord, viii. 395. burratines, vii. 300. burroughs, vi. 177. Burton, vi. 24. butt, ii. 183. butteries, ii. 538. Butter, Nath. v. 183. butter, v. 188. butt-shafts, ii. 369. by, i. 139.
- ii. 151.
- ii. 509, buz, v. 231.
cabbages, iii. 205. Cadiz, iii. 262. CaBsar, iv. 267- Caesarian madam, iv. 180. cake bread, iv. 51*2. call et, iii. 277- caliver, iii. 452. calvered salmon, it* 57. callot, vi. 30. Cambden, viii. 159 camel, ii. 149. camoucio, ii. 281. camused, vi. 276. canary, ii. 26. candour, iv. 192. can (know), vi. 17.
vi. 214.
Canbury, vi. 194. candle waster, ii. 277- cans (to burn) ii. 246. canter, v. 222, cant, v. 222. caps, little* i. 74. caract, i.74. caracts, v. 29. Caranza, i. 35. carcanets, ii. 315, cargos, ii. 526.
carp, the, ii. carpet, iii. 458.
v. 182.
carp's tongue, iv. 56. Carr, Robert, vii. 239. carry coals, ii. 179. Cary, sir Hen. viii. 186.
- - sir Lucius, ix. 6. Cary, Mrs. viii. 234. case, ii. 524 cassock, i. 62. cast, i. 29. casting glass, ii. 144. Castor, iv. 236. catsos, ii. 48. Catullus, iii. 254; cautelous, v. 33. centaurs, ii. 448. centumviri, ii. 447. Celia, iii. 254. ceruse, i. 131. chain, ii. 32. chambers, viii. 422. Chancellor's tomb, ii. 123.
vi. 482.'
Charles I. viii. 453. charm, iv. 405. charm your tongue, ii. 23 Chapman, viii. 345. chartel, i. 37- cheap (market), ii. 407. cheat, vii. 433. cheater, viii. 198. chevril, ii. 405. Chichester, lady, vii. 43. children (of St. Paul's), ii. 226, Childermas, iv. 432. china shops, iii. 360. China-woman, iii. 36O. china colours, viii. 44. chioppini, ii. 258. chorus, iii. 448.
iv. 225.
Christmas vails, iv. 14. Christmas log, vii. 282. Christ-tide, iii. 178. iv. 95.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
4125
chronicles, v. 59. ciarlitani, iii. 210. cibation, iv. 21. Cinnamns, iii. 165. cimici, vi. 40. Cipi, iv. 246. cippus, 7, 377. circling, iv. 481. citizen, ii. 418. cittern, iii. 401.
v. 191.
city wires, iii. 342.
city custard, v. 14.
civil gown, iii. 468.
claims Arthur's seat, vii. 162.
Claridiana, iv. 23.
clap dish, i. 44.
clapper dudgeon, v. 220.
cleft, viii. 134.
cleis, ix. 74.
clem, ii. 4O7-
Clifford, lady Ann, vii, 42.
cloak (for Prol.) ii. 219.
close and open, ii. 309.
clothed senate^ iv. 28,8.
cloth-breech, vi. 144.
cloth- workers* iii. 405.
clout, to hit, v. 310.
clumsy, ii. 519.
clutch, ii. 519.
coach-horse, ii. 292.
.eoals, ii. 168.
Cob, i. 27-
cob, i. 28.
cob-swan, iv. 235.
cock-a-hoop, vi. 226.
cockatrice, ii. 19.
ii. 39.
cock-pit, iii. 241. cock-shut, vi. 472. Cock Lorrel, vii. 408. coffins, v. 209. Cokely, iv. 447.
- - - v. 13. cokes, iv. 428.
- - vi. 401.
Coke, sir Edw. viii, 430.
Colby, viii. 373. Cole, old, iv. 509. Cole harbour, iii. 388. colliers, ii. 168. colours, mistress's, ii. 33.
ii. 327.
come off, ii. 161.
- - - - vi. 138. coming, iii. 229,
- - - iv. 262k comfortable bread> iv. 419. commodity, iv. 109. communicate, iii. 64. compliments ii. 30,
ii. 336.
v. 91.
concealment,!. 1O7. conceited, i. 71.
iii. 27.
concert, iii. 241. concluded, ii. 493. Conde Olivares, v. 418. condition, ii. 17. conduct, ii. 74. coney-catching, i. 70. confederacy, iv. 379. confute, v. 143. connive, ii. 30O. control the point, i. 124. convert, ii. 236. convince, iv. 376. Constable, Hen. viii. 390. constables (tedious), ii. 265. Contarene, iii. 268. cook, viii. 26. copeman, iii. 253. Cophetua, king, i. 84. copy, ii. 63 *
- - ii. 102.
- - iii. 327.
- - iv. 7.
Corbet, Vincent, viii. 326. Coriat, iv. 447» Coriat's trunk, vii. 216. Cornelius Agrippa, ii. 137« corn-hoarders, ii. 121, corn-cutter, iv. 415.
426
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Corydon, i. 40.
cormorants (servants), ii. 168. costermonger, iv. 120. costs (ribs), v. 239. cosset, iv. 392. cothurnal, ii. 518. cotquean, ii. 482. counsel, ii. 271. counterfeit, i. 62.
vi. 77.
----- viii. 430. countenance, ii. 111.
iv. 14.
counterpanes, iv. 367. counters, iv. 15. court-dish, v. 380. Coventry blue, vii. 405. Covell lady, viii. 448. coystrel, i. 105. Cox, capt. viii. 55. crack, ii. 25.
v. 72.
cracked in the ring, vi. 76. crambo, v. 336. cramp, iii. 292. cramp-ring, vii. 377. Cranborne, lady, vii. 158. Cranfield, lord, vii. 392. cranion legs, iv. 393 . credit, to make, iii. 475. Cremutius Cordus, iii. 78. ere well, iv. 22. cricket, to hold, vi. 43. Cripplegate, ii. 15. Cri-spinas, ii. 418. Crispinus, ii. 461. Crites, ii. 242, croakers, iii. 279. cross, i. 134. cross out ill days, iv. 43 crost, ii. 435. crow, iv. 53. crowd, ii. 281. cry Italian, iii. 207. cuban ebolition, ii. 97- cucking-stool, iv. 424. cullison, ii. 36.
cullison, vi. 394. cunning, ii. 424. cunning man, iii. 245. cupboard, iii. 203. curst a while, iv. 42 1 . Custard politic, v. 208. Cynthia, ii. 423. cypres, vi. 379. Cyparissus, vi. 469. Cyprus, i. 25.
Dacus, iv. 360.
dagger (in the nose), ii. 51
Dagger tavern, iv. 24.
iv. 174.
Dagonet, ii. 146. Daniel, i. 155.
iii. 370.
v. 250.
viii. 205.
278.
Darrel, v. 134.
viii. 438.
Dargison, vi. 210. daw, v. 117-
D'aubigny, lord, vii. 109. Davy, iv. 362. Davis, viii. 161. Dauphin my boy, iv. 522. decimo-sexto, ii. 232. Decker, ii. 520. decline, iii. 116. Dee, Dr. iv. 87- deft, ii. 514. delate, iii. 227. Dele, vii. 253. Demetrius, ii. 461. depart, ii. 159. dependence, i. 37-
v. 124.
Derby, countess of, vii. 19. Desmore, earl of, viii. 385. devant, ii. 347. device, ii. 367-
vi. 184.
Devil of Edmonton, v. 4.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
427
Devil of Edmonton, v. 199 devil (of the play) v. 197. Devil tavern, ix 84. diameter, iv. 107« diapason, ii 35O. dibble, iv. 414. Dick Tator, vi. 188. diffused, ii. 282. Digby, lady, ix. 46.
ix. 63.
Digby, sir Kenelm, ix. 47. dimension, v. 380. ding, iv. 182. discoloured, ii. 360. disclaim in, iii. 264. dislike, ii 81. discipline, iii 482.
iv. 92.
discipline, beauteous, iv. 396. disparagement, iv. 459. disple, iii. 276. distance of hum, v. 274. distaste, v. S3. do withal, iii. 470. dock, iv. ISO. doctrines, old, iii. 177. doctrines, vi. 55. dog-killers, iv. 403. dog the fashion, ii. 165. dole, of faces, iii. 223. dole beer, iv. 14. Don John, iv. 132. Doni, iii. 442. Donne Dr. viii. 205.
viii. 164.
dop, ii. 344. dopper, v. 241.
vii. 358.
dor, to, i. 132.
ii. 328.
dor, ii. 280.
dor, to give the, iii. 400. dotes, iii. 377. dotterel, v. 52.
v. 120.
double clokes, v. 96.
double reader, vi. 81. Dousabel, iv. 102. Drake's ship, i. 35. Drayton, viii. 338.
viii. 342.
drink tobacco, i. 67. drink dissolved pearl, ii. 37. drone a pipe, ii. 139.
- - iii. 424.
drowned land, v. 41. Drummond, viii, 322. Dryden. iii, 496.
viii. 334.
dry foot, i. 53. dudgeon, v. 221. duello, iv. 107. dukes, v. 47.
Dun's in the mire, vii. 282. Dunstan's tavern, v. 167. Durindana, i. 69. D'urfe, v. 394.
eagle, Catiline's, iv. 272.
Earine, vi. 265.
eaters, iii. 4O8.
Echo, ii. 235.
Edmonds, Clement, viii. 222.
Effingham, lady, vii. 20.
Egerton, lord chancellor, viii.
191.
eggs on the spit, i. 95. elder tree, ii. 14S. Elesmere, lord, viii. 396. Elements of Armory, v. 204. elephant, ii. 152. Elizabeth, coun. of Rutland, viii. 194.
viii. 275.
Elizabeth, L. H. viii. 223. Eltham, iii, 480. Eltham thing, viii. 209. emissary eyes, viii. 313. enfant perdu, ii 207. enghles, ii. 224.
- - - - ii. 400.
428
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
enghles, it. 429. England's joy, vii. 214.
^ - vii. 432.
English palej vii. 238. enginers, iv. 281. enginous, ii. 281. ens, ii. 16. entries, vi. 255. envoy, iii. 478,
- - - viii. 414.
envy (ill will), iv. 318. envy, v. 64. epitasis, ii. 122. equivocal generation, iv. 68.
vi. 70.
equivokes, v. 87- Erskine, vii. 1O9. Essex* countess of, vii. 158. Euphorbus, iii. 176. Euphues, ii. 205. euripus, ii. 97- Eustathius, ii. 267. exampless, iii. 59. Excalibur, i. 69. exchange time, i. 75. Exeter, countess of, vii. 387. exhale, ii. 444. exhibition, ii. SO.
* . . * . ii. 402. ----- iii. 395.
expiate, viii. 431. eye-bright, iv. 164.
faces about, i. 63. fading, vii. 240.
viii. 209.
fagioli, ii. 265. fairies, ii. 212. faies, vii. 193. fairy favours, iii. 476. faithful, iv. 46. faithful brother, iv. 81. falls, iv. 77. falser, vii. 10O. familiar, ii. 194.
far-fet, ii. 291.
far side of Tiber, ii. 436.
farce, to, ii. 189.
fart, the, iv. 55.
fast and loose, iii. 275.
fasting days, i. 84.
fat fofks, iv. 412.
faun, ii. 499.
Fauns, iv. 235.
Favonius, vii. 306.
fayles, i. 77-
fear, i. 99.
feather, ii. 444.
feather-dealers, iv. 20.
iv. 534.
feeders, iii. 408. feize, iv. ISS. fennel, vi. 137. Fenner, vii. 432. fere, iii. 386. Ferabosco, A. viii. 237. fermentation, iv. 2 1 . fern seed, ii. 137. fewmets, vi. 255. fewterer, ii. 64. fico, i. 51. fierce, ii. 512. figgum, v. 153. figments, ii. 141.
ii. 243.
Filmer, Ed. viii. 354 fineness, v. 83. Finsbury, i. 1O. fishmonger, vii. 277- fishmonger's slaves, v. 213, Fiske, v. 17. fittons, ii. 243. five for one, ii. 73. flap-dragons, ii. 379. flat-cap, i. 45. flawns, vi. 273. flea-bitten horse, iv. 482. Fleet-street, ii. 66.
iii. 308.
flies (familiars), iv. 9- flights, ii. 370.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
429
foist, i, 113.
- - iv 152. foists, iii. £64- fool, to beg, ii. 104. fools, vi. 273. fool's coat, ii. 94.
fool of the play, v. 197. fool up, v. 177. foot-cloth, vi. 394. fond, ii. 2O. for the heavens, ii. 68.
vi. 333.
for failing, iv. 181. Foreman, Dr. iii. 428.
v. 17.
forespeak, ii. 275.
v. 230.
foreslow, ii. 2ol. foretop, ii. 95. forks, iii. 267.
- - v. 137. forsooth, ii. 467-
vi. 496.
fortunate Isles, ii. 162.
Fortune (play-house), ii. 45.
fox, iv . 429.
fox, vi H.
frail, iii. 306.
Franklin, v. 17.
f rapier, ii. 313.
fraying, vi. 255.
French crown, ii. 54.
French dressing, i. 93.
French Hercules, iii. 280.
frc^h 'mushroom, iii. 383.
friday, ii. 197.
frippery, i. 15.
frolic K, ii. 73.
frohcks, v. 72.
Fuliain, ii. 111.
full stage, ii. 75.
Fuivia, iv. 230.
Fuscus A list, ii. 243.
G
galley-foist, iii, 334. Gallo-belgicus, ii. 530.
Gamaliel Ratsay, iv. 17.
Gamage, viii. 253.
Gargaphie, ii. 234.
Garrard, lady, vii. 43.
garters, vi. 62.
gazette, iii. 217.
geance, vi. 166.
geese, iv. 266.
gentleman *(to write like), v.
273.
George Stone, iii. 395. German ciock, iii. 432. Gemonies, Hi. 105. get-penny, iv. 5O3. Ghibellines, iii. 448. giglot, iii. 124. Gill, vi. 122. gilt nutmeg, vii. 404. ging, iv. 161. gingle spurs, ii. 6. girdle of Venus, vii. 228. girdle, poetical, 'ii. 298. girds, iii. 186. give law, vi. 296. give (in heraldry), ii. 509. give words, iii. 193.
glass, made at Venice, iii. 172,
glass (beryl), iv. 17.
gleek, v, 2b9.
glibbery, ii. 518.
glkks, ii. 380.
glidder, v. 110.
globe, iv. 227.
Globe (play-house), ii. 455.
gloriously, ii. 69.
go by, i. 34.
go less, iii. 246.
god's gift, iv. 103.
G — make you rich, iv. 175. vii. 219,
God s blessing, v. 50.
G — to pay, viii. 60. _ viii. 158.
godfathers, in law, v. 139.
gold-^nd man, iv. 79.
gold weights, v. 3<>0,
golls, ii. v. 14.
430
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Gondomar, v. 248.
viii. 426.
Gonswart, iii. 214. good man, v. 76. Good Fortune, v. 50. good shame, iv. 263. good time, i. 25. Goodyere, sir H. viii. 196. goose-green starch, iv. 415. gossip, iii. 217. gowk, vi. 75. gown, Serjeant's, 142, Gowry, vii. 417- Grand Scourge, ii. 64. grasshoppers, ii. 543. grasshoppers, by the wing, iii.
239.
Grecians, live like, iii. 261. Green's works, ii. 71. Greene, iii. 443. green-goose fair, ii. 451. Gregory Christmas, vii. 274. Gresham, v. 17. gripe, iv. 61. grice, vi.278.
Groat's worth of wit, iii. 443. Gross, v. 339. groundlings, iv. 366. Guarini, iii. 242. Guelphs, iii. 448. Guildford lady, vii. 42. gulch, ii. 452. gull, i. 13. Gyges* ring. ii. 137- gyre, vi. 473.
H
hair, red, ii. 424. hair, short, ii. 13. hair bracelet, ii. 149. half-way tree, viii. 199. Haliclyon, viii. 35. hall, a hall ! vi. 235. Hamilton, lord, vii. 395. hanger, i. 36. - - - ii. 154.
happy (rich), ii. 404. happy genius, iii. 6. harlot, iii. 312. Harpocrates, iii. 366. harper, vii. 404. harrot, i. 28. Harry Nicholas, iv. 187. Harrington, v. 44.
vi. 48.
hart of ten, vi. 254.
vii. 390.
Hatton, lady, vii. 42.
sir Christ, vi. 480.
havings, i. 30.
hawking, i. 9.
hay! i. 119.
hay on horns, ii. 474.
hay, iv. 64.
Hay, sir James, vii. 45.
Hayden, viii. 24 J.
hear ill, iii. 161.
- - - - iv. 468. iv. 32 1 .
hear well, iv. 13.
- - - - vii. 219. Heaven (ale-house), iv. 174. Hebrew, iv. 82.
Hecate, vi. 282.
vii. 124.
heifer, iii. 387. Heliodorus, v. 394.
vi. 267.
Heliogabalus, iii. 257- hell ^an old house), iv. 174. Herbert, sir Edw. viii. 217- Herbert, lady, vii, ]<). Hercules' cup, vii. 318. Hercules, words of, ii. 13. Hermes' seal, iv. 64. Hermogenes, ii. 428. herring, i. 27. Heywood, John, vi. 221. hieroglyphics, iv. 88. Higginbottom, i. 55. high man, ii. 111. Hill, Nic. viii, 245.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
431
hilled, vii. 26.
Hippias, viii. 28.
ho ! ho ! v. 7.
hobby horse, ii. 5O.
hoiden, vi. 171.
hold thee, iv. 347.
hold that will away, iv. 394.
Hoiden, ii. 149.
Holland, Isaac, iv. 32.
John, iv. 32.
Hollow coal, iv. 16. hollow dye, iv. 45. Holmby, vi. 48O. Horace, ii. 490. horned flood, iii. 253. horns, iii. 285. horn thumb, iv. 433. horse, sir Be vis', i. 83. horse bread, horse courser, iv. 369. hospital Christs', i. 41. hospital, v. 40O. hot and moist, ii. 175. hot-house, ii. 48.
viii. 156.
house your head, ii. J 10. houses of Zodiac, viii. 65. Howard, sir Tho. vii. 54. Howard, earl marshal, vii. 393. Howard, lady, vii. 2O. Howe, iii. 389. Howleglass, ii. 452.
iv. 6O.
Hudson, Jeff. viii. 106. huh! huh! iv. 438. hum, v. 16.
- - v. 273.
- - vii. 241. humour, i. 82.
ii. 16.
humorous, ii. 237- hunt at force, vi. 269. hunt change, vi. 269. Huntingdon, c. of, vii. 358. Kurd, vii. 30O. hybrid, v. 365.
ides. iv. 300. idle, iii. 114. ill-days, iv. 43. ill-sprite, viii. 162. imbibition, iv. 63. imbrocato, i. 121. impart, ii. 110. imparters, ii. 9. im potently, v. 345. in-and-in, v. 325. inceration, iv. 64. inchastitee,-i. 139. incony, vi. 2O1. incubus, ii. 518. indent, v. 209. Indian fig-tree, viii. SO. infanta, v. 23O. ingenuity, ii. 126. ingine, i. 153. ingle, iii, 444. inhabitable, iv. 325. Iiiigo Jones, iv. 405.
iv. 447.
vi. 23O.
vii. 153.
vii. 131.
viii. 113.
innocent, iii. 343.
iii. 406.
instructed, iii. 438. insula paulina, ii. 1O5. intention, ii. 251. intend, ii. 327. interessed, iii. 71. interloping, vi. 202. Irish rats, ii. 456. Irish costarmonger, iv. 120. Irish penance, v. 131. irpe, ii. 288.
- - ii, 379. invincibly, i. 31. island voyage, iii. 362. Islop, abbot, v. 328.
Italian, the, viii. 227.
432
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Italian manner, ii. 248. Italy (diseases of), ii. 439.
Jacob's staff, ii. 5.
James I. vii. 140.
viii. 154.
- - - - viii. 170.
- - - - viii. 178. Jason's helm, iv. 51. jeerers, v. 254. jeering, v. 263. Jeronymo, i. 34.
ii. 228.
ii. 456.
jewel, vi. 475.
jewels in the ear, i. 135.
ii. 20.
jig, ii. 58.
- iii, 296.
jig the cock, ii. 296. Jonson's club, v. 254. Jonson's son, viii. 175. Jonson's songs, vi. 266. Jophiel, viii. 65. jug, bearded, v. 338, Julius Caesar, v. 164. Julian de Campis, viii. 68. juniper, ii. 6. juniper, to burn, ii. 271. justice hall, v. 147- justice Silence, ii. 173. Juvenal, iii. 366.
K
Kelly, iv. 122, Kemp's shoes, ii. 1£5. Kennethie, sir John, vii. 109. Kestril, iii. 447- kind, iii. 25.
- - v. 49. kindlieart, iv. 362. King's-head (tavern), vi. 67- kirtle, ii. 260. Kit Callot, vii. 379. knack with fingers, iii. 355
knights, iv. 57. Knipperdoling, iv. 83. knitting cup, vi. 82. Kyd, viii. 330.
laced mutton, viii. 32. lade me, v. 24. Lady o' the Lake, vii. 162, laid, iii. 2b6. Lamb, Dr. v. 198. Lancashire, v. 9. lance knight, i. 53. Lancelot, sir, ii. 63. Lanier, Nic. vii. 290, lapwing, ii. 492.
iii. 141.
lares, ii. 477-
lattice, i. 96.
laughter, iii. ISO.
laundring gold, iv. 19.
law, ii, 404.
lawyer, ii. 410,
leaguer, v. 80.
leer, iv. 369.
leer drunkards, v. 421.
leer side, vi. 143.
leese, ii. 172.
left handed cries, iii. 408.
leg, to make, v. 1 17,
Leges Convivales, ix. 82,
leiger, ii. 139.
lemma, ii. 544.
Lempster ore, vii. 342.
Lenox, duke of, vii. 109.
Lepanto, battle of, ii. 21)3.
letter of Tiberius, iii. 143.
lettuce, iii. 303.
level coil, vi. 185.
lewd, iii. 208.
- - v. 144. Lexiphanes, ii. 529. Lex Remnia, ii. 515. leystals, i. 59. Libanius, iii. 351. liberality of Jonson, vii. 153
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
433
license for fencing, ii. 333.
lick away moths, iii. 232.
lie in lavender, ii. 96.
lifting, ii. 231.
lightly, ii. 255.
lightly, iii. 245.
like (to please), ii. 81.
v. 5.
Lily, viii. 330. limmer, vi. 279. Lindabrides, ii, 286. lions, to see, iv. 134. lion whelped, iii. 202. Lipsius' fly, v. 377. little legs, ii. 96.
ii. 417-
loggats, vi. 218. Lollia Paulina, iii. 256. London bridge, v. 215. Longus, vi. 267. long stocking, ii. 438. look, iv. ISO. lord of liberty, ii. 3. lord's room, ii. 69. Lothbury, iv. 47,
vii. 419.
love lock, iii. 463.
Lucy, countess of Bedford, viii
192.
Ludgathians, ii. 35. Lullianist, iv. 81. Lully, iii. 214. luna, iv. 21. lungs, iv. 46.
lurch o' the garland, iii. 495. Lusty Juventus, v. 10. luxury, viii. 274.
M
Mab, vi. 471. mace (serjeant's), i. 142. made (prepared), iii. 45.
iii. 228.
iii. 284.
magnificate, ii. 519. VOL. IX.
maintenance, v. 298. make, to, i. 145. maker, ii. 114. make legs, iii. 231. make on, iv. 255. makes, v. 328.
viii. 60.
mallanders, iv. 426. Mammon, iv. 126. mammothrept, ii. 312. man with beard (jug), iv. 489. man of mark, vi. 184. mangonize, ii. 459. mankind, iii. 488. maniples, vi. 28. maple face, vi. 156. marchpane, ii. 295. Maries, iv. 112. mark, vi. 89. Mark's St. iii. 183. Marlow, i. 104.
viii. 330.
marrows, vii. 406. Marsh Lambeth, viii. 157- Marston, ii. 517- Martin, sir Hen. ii. 388. Mary Ambree, iii. 433.
- vi. 143.
viii. 78.
marry gip ! iv. 39O. Mass Stone, iii. 204. master's side, ii. 193.
- - ii. 197.
master of the sentences, v. 394.
mastery, iv. 125.
material, ii. 502.
maund, v. 222.
mauther, iv. 152.
mayday, iii. 434.
May, Thomas, viii. 347-
measure, ii. 290.
vii. 206.
meath, v. 16. Mecamas, v. 438. Medea, ii. 399. Medley's (ordinary), v. 167.
Ff
434
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
mediterranee, iv. 94. meet with, iv. 411. Meg of Westminster, viii. 78. melancholy, i. 67- melicotton. iv. 877. Meliadus, vii. 167. Memnon's statue, v. 253. men, seemed, i. 116. merchant (banker), ii. 73. mercurial washes, ii. 475. Mercurius Britannicus, v. 186. Merlin, vii. 165.
vii. 347.
Mermaid, viii. 213.
metre, i. 101. Middlesex jury, v. 8,
middling gossip, v. 37-
migniardise, v. 234.
Mile-end, i. 119.
milk of unicorns, iii. 257.
Milvian bridge, iv. 321.
mirror in hat, ii. 263.
misrule, lord of, viii. 4.
miscalculations, i. 122.
mist of perfumes, vii. 80.
mistake away, iv. 409.
Mitre (tavern), ii. 181.
mixen, vi. 176.
moccinigo, iii. 218.
modern, ii. 518.
monopolies, ii. 512.
Monsieur, ii. 28.
Montgomery, earl of, vii. 54.
month's mind, vi. 55.
moonling, v. 35.
Moor, the, ii. 458.
more stricter, ii. 14.
Morglay, i. 69.
Morison, sir Hen. ix. 4.
morris dancers, ii. 50 vii. 397-
mortmal, vi. 289.
moths, ii. 492.
mot, motte, i. 103.
motions (puppets), ii. 7- ii. 252,
motions (puppets), vi. 236. motions (of a clock), ii. 47. motley, i. 52.
ii. 246.
viii. 180.
mound, ii. 364. Mounteagle, lord, viii. 183. mournival, v. 289. much ! i. 117.
ii. 44.
iii. 279.
vi. 365.
muckinder, vi. 176.
mule, ii. 61.
mullets, ii. 346.
mumchance, iv. 472.
Muscovy glass, v. 4.
musket rest, i. 62.
muss (mouse), i. 49.
muss, iv. 472.
Mycillus, iii. 177.
myrobolane, iv. 129.
N
name of things, iv. 350. napkins, ii. 50. nativity pie, iii. J78. neck verse, ii. 221. Ned Whiting, iii. 395. neophyte, ii. 183. Neapolitan lawyers, iii. 295. nephew, iv. 245.
iv. 275.
- - — vii. 445. nest of antiques, iv. 370. Neville, lady, vii. 43. Neville, sir Henry, viii. 220. Newcastle, earl of, viii. 444.
ix. 17.
new disease, i. 50. New Exchange, iii. 358. new fellow, iv. 233. neuf, ii. 455. niaise, v. 29. nick, viii. 47. Nicotian, i. 89.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
435
night crow, iii. 408. Nineveh, ii. 19.
- - - - ii. 66.
noble, vi. 89. noblesse, viii. 215, noise of fidlers, iii. noises, iii. 418.
vi. 145.
no man to, i. 77. Nomentack, iii. 470. nonce, for the, iii. 218. noon of night, iii. 13O. Norton, iv" 185. not-head, vii. 361. nought, to be, vi. 160. nullifidian, ii. 347. nupson, i. 117-
- - - v. 53.
O
Oath, legal, i. 79. oaths, i. 9. oade, ii. 415. obarni, v. 16.
vii. 240.
obsession, iii. 320. odling, ii. 8. oes, vii. 76. oil of talc, iv. 94.
viii. 266.
old doctrine, iii. 177-
once, ii. 549.
oracle of the bottle,
ore of Lempster, vii. 342.
O liana, vi. 474.
orient, iii. 195.
Ostend, iii. 425.
osteria, Hi. 226.
Otter's cups, iii. 429.
outcry, iv. 242.
Outis, viii. 68.
outrecuidance, ii. 329.
Overbury, sir Tho. viii. 224.
Ovid, iii. 422.
Ovid banished, ii. 487-
Owlspiegle, vi. 28O.
Ff2
pages, v. 333. Pagginton's pound, iv. 451 paint, to, v. 65. painting posts, ii. 246. pair of cards, vii. 279. palm, ii. 522. pan, v. 43. paned slops, ii. 307. Pantobalus, ii. 453. pantalone, iii. 220. panther's breath, ii. 351.
iii. 257.
Paplewick, vi. 292. Paracelsus, iii. 214.
- iv. 71.
parallel, iii. 65. parcel, ii. 526. parget, iii. 474. pargetting, ii. 380. parlous, iv, 77. parted, ii. 5.
- - - ii. 122. partrich, Hi. 285. passage, vii. 31. passive, i. 150. patoun, ii. 139. patrico, iv. 433. patronage, iv. 239. Paul's, ii. 8. pavin, iv. 138. Pavy, Sal, viii. 229. Pawlet, lady, ix. 54. peace and pease, ii. 133. peacock's tail, iv. 53. pease, vi. 91.
pedant, ii. 255,
- - - ii. 289. pedarii, Hi. 16. peel, iv. 437. Pembroke, lord, iv. 195.
vii. 391.
Pembroke, lady, viii. 337- Pennant, vii. 331. pencil beard, ii. 313.
436
GLOSSAR1AL INDEX.
Penelope, iii. 425. penny almanac, ii. 42. Penshurst, viii. 251. Pepper (race-horse), iii. 345. periphrasis (of a fool), ii. 38. perpetuana, ii. 278. perspicil, v. 171- persway, iv. 428. pestilence, ii. 437- pestling, iii, 403. Peter, lady, vii. 42. petition (of rights), vi. 64. Petrarch, iii. 242. Petreius, iv. 319. petronel, iii. 452. phere, iii. 386. Philostratus, viii. 268. philosopher's wheel, iv. 62. Phlegen, i. 154. Phoenix (tavern), v. 167- Phormus, ii. 22. picardil, v. 55. Pict-hatch, i. J7-
ii. 8.
iv. 48.
viii. 157.
pick tooths, ii. 133 . pictures for ballads, iv. 450. pieces, v. 82. piece, vi. 89.
pie-poudre court, iv. 403. Pie, sir Robert, viii. 449. pigmies, vii 320. Pigeons, the, iv. 177. pilchers, ii. 445. Pimlico, iv 164. Pindaric Ode, ix. 7. pinnace, iv. 408. Piso, iv.271- plague, iii. 344. plaise-mouth, iii. 4O6. planet-struck, i. 124. plants (feet), vii. 194. Plat, sir Hugh, viii. 399. plays, historical, v. 59. Playwright, viii. 211.
plover, iv. 491.
plough with my heifer, v. 337,
plumed swan, iv. 53.
Pod, ii. 148. *
- - iv. 302.
- - viii. 2O9. poet ape, viii. 181. poetry, art of, ix. 7O. poetry, defence of, i. 157. points, v. 431. point-devise, vi. 192. Pokahonta, v. 227. Pole, ii. 165. polt-foot, ii. 489.
vii. 248.
pomander chains, ii. 53. pommado. ii. 254. pond (Smithfield), iv. 424. popular, ii. 31. porpoises, to see, iii. 145. Porta, viii. 203. portague, iv. 42. portcullis, ii. 113. porter (great), vi. 62. porter's lodge, vii. 434. Portland, earl of, ix. 44. possess, i. 33.
i. 113.
possession, iii. 320.
iii. 451.
post and pair, vii. 278. practice, iii. 322.
iv. 285.
precise, iii. 369. precisianism, ii. 145. predominant, ii. 95. present, v. 99. prest, ii. 339. prevent, iv. 59. prickles, viii. 44. prime, viii. 224. primero, ii 31.
iii. 246.
Prince Henry, vii. 170. print, in, ii. 82. private, iv. 267.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
437
proctors, i. 44. progress, iii. 370. projection, iv. 51. prologue, armed, ii. 394. proper, ii. 143.
ii. 173.
properties, iv. 251. protest, i. 24.
ii. 171.
Proteus, viii. 27. provost, i. 70.
provost (in fencing), ii.339. provide, iii. 144. providing, iii. 176. Prynne, vi. 24.
vi. 73.
Puck, vi. 292. puckfist, ii. 37.
- - - - ii. 507. pudding tobacco, ii. 259. puff-wings, ii. 466. puffin, iv. 115. pulpamenta, ii. 207. punk, iv. 408. punk devise, iv. 169. Puppy (race-horse), iii. 345. Purbeck, lady, vii. 389. purchase, iv. 159.
v. 91.
pur-chops, vii. 278. pur-dogs, vii. 278. pure, the, iv. 55. puritans, iv. 82. pure laundresses, ii. 466. purl, viii. 314. pursenet, iii. 402. put out on return, ii. 72. pyrgus, ii. 445. Pythagoras, iii. 176.
- iii. 366.
vii. 355.
Pythagoras' glass, vii.. .15.
quaking custard, ii. 529.
iii. 168.
quail, iv. 491. quar, vi. 29. queasy, iii. 18. Queen Anne, vii. 381. quested, vii. 403. quiblins, iv. 158. quickset beard, ii. 199. quinquennium, vii. 372. quintain, viii. 152. quodling, iv. 23. quote, iii. 201.
Rabelais, iv. 11.
Radcliffe, sir John, viii. 204.
Margaret, viii. 172.
ragioni di stato, ii. 245. rake up, iii. 163. Ram alley, v. 212. ramp, ii. 514. rash, to, ii. 153. ratsbane, i. 91. raw rochet, iii. 251. ray, vi. 276. ready, to make, i. 35. real, ii. 45. rebate, ii. 291. receit reciprocal, ii. 139. red letters, iv. 17. reed, iv. 297- reformado, i. 86. regiment, v. 374. register, iv. 60. relief, vi. 294. religion, ii. 374. religious, iv. 269. remora, ii. 442. render the face, ii. 241. reprove, i. 88. resiant, iv. 310. resolve, i. 34.
i. 79.
resolve, vi. 399.
438
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
resolved, v. 68. respectively, ii. 137- rest of a musket, i. 62. ... ii. 142.
retrieve, v. 235. return, to deal on, ii. 5. revels, ii. 116.
ii. 174.
vii. 294.
reverence, vi. 149.
re vie, i. 116.
rheam, i. 82.
rhinocerote nose, yiii. 168.
ribite, v. 8.
Rich, lady, vii. 19.
Rich, sir Robert, vii. 109.
Riddle, vii. 213.
ride, to, iv. 494.
Ridley, vi 20.
Rimee, viii. 208.
ring, to take, viii. 461.
ring noon, vi. 1&6.
Ripley, George, iv. 81.
Rippon spurs, v. 181.
risse, 5v. 259.
river hawking, viii. 258.
Robert, earl of Salisbury, viii.
179.
Robinson, Dick, v. 73. Roe, sir John, viii. 165.
-viii. 168.
Roe, William, viii. 189.
viii. 235.
Roe, sir Thomas, viii. 21O. rogue (beggar), v. 284. Romans, die like, iii. 261. rook, iii. 192. rosaker, i. 91. rose, in the ear, ii. 70. rose painters, v. 270. roses, iii. 368.
- - v. 2O.
Rosicrucians, viii. 68. round, to walk, iii. 455.
iv. 101.
round, gentlemen of, i. 85.
rouse, iii. 423. rovers, ii. 37O. row, the, v. 93. Rudyard, sir Ben. viii. 231. ruff, to thaw, ii. 1O3. ruffle, of boot, ii. 155. ruffle it, ii. 29O. rug gown, ii. 115. rushes, ii. 125.
ii. 273.
Rutland, countess of, vii. 387- Rutter, Joseph, viii. 348.
S
Sabella, ii. 439. sacrament, iv. 22O. sadness, ii. 465. sadly, iii. 296. Sackville, sir Ed. viii. 358. saffi, iii. 262. Saguntum, ix. 9. sail-stretched, ii. 12. Sankre, lord, vii. 109. Salathiel Pavy, ii. 229. Salisbury, iii. 370. Salisbury, earl of, viii. 144. salt, viii. 177-
salt, to preserve him, iv. 478. salts, v. 67. sampuchine, ii. 347, sanna, ii. 329. sapor pontic, iv. 81. sapor styptic, iv. 81. satin sleeve, ii. 434. Saturnals, iv. 274. savi, iii. 262. Savile, sir Hen. viii. 207- Savory, v. 17. say, i. 134. say (try), ii. 549.
iv. 42.
v. 173.
says, viii. 158.
- - viii. 314. Scanderbeg, i. 20. scan verse, iii. 178.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
439
scarabs, ii.
scarlet cloth, iii. 241.
scartoccio, iii. 211.
scene, iv. 206.
scenery not in use, ii. 392.
Scoto, iii. 209.
scotomy, iii. 189.
scourse, iv. 443.
screaming grasshopper, ii, 543.
scroyles, i. 10.
ii. 471.
sea- weed, vi. 295. seal, to, i. 58.
viii. 433.
seam-rent, ii. 86. search to the nail, vi. 78. seel, iv. 240. secure, vi. 41. Selden, viii. 364. seminaries, iv. 438.
iv. 468.
Sempronia, iv. 228.
sepulchres, iii. 265.
serene, iii. 255. viii. 169.
sericon, iv. 85.
serjeant, ii. 106. iii. 455.
sermons, ii. 431.
serpent, iv. 269.
serpent in Sussex, vii. 352.
servant-monster, iv. 371-
servant, i. 102. iii. 414.
services, ii. 8.
sesterce, ii. 447-
sets (plaits), iv. 133.
set up a side, iii. 416.
several, ii. 505.
shaft, ii. 183.
shake the head, i. 104.
Shakspeare, viii. 328.
shape, v. 354.
shelf, viii. 260.
Shelton, sir Ralph, viii. 241.
sheriffs post, ii. 123.
sheriff's post, ii. 246. shine, ii. 365. shining shoes, i. 45. short hair, iv. 462. shot-shark, ii. 182. shot-clog, ii. 203.
v. 265.
shove groat, i. 86. Shrove Tuesday, iii. 352. Si quisses, ii. 91. sick-man's salve, iii. 443. sickness, iii. 353.
- - - - iv. 9. side, v. 425.
Sidney, sir Philip, viii. 252. Sidney, lord Rob. viii. 286.] Sidney, William, viii. 286. siege, iii. 28. sieve and shears, iv. 16. silenced brethren, iii. 369-
iii. S90.
silent rhetoric, ii. 95.
Silius (his death), iii. 76.
silk hose, i. 31.
silver feet, vii. 37-
Silvester, Josh. viii. 239.
Sim, old, ix. 87.
simper-the-cocket, vii. 376.
single money, iv. 179.
single, ii. 74. vi. 364.
Sir Ajax, iii. 456.
sir, reverence, vi. 149. vii, 337.
sister-swelling, v. 66.
skelder, ii. 8.
skeldering, ii. 390.
Skelton, viii. 75. - - - - viii. 77.
Skelton, sir Robert, viii. 241.
skills not, vi. 159.
Skogan, viii. 75.
sleep on either ear, vii. 187
slighter, iii. 156.
slip, i. 62.
slip, vi. 77.
440
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
slips, viii. 430.
slops, i. 108.
- - iv. 101. slot, vi. 255. small voice, ii. 457- smelt, ii. 264. snottery, ii. 518. snuff, in, iii. 454. snuffers (to sell), ii. 415. soggy, ii. 120. soil, to take, iv. 38O. sol, iv. 21. solecism, iii. 315. Soiners of Nottingham, v. 134. Somerset, sir Thomas, vii. 54. Soria, iii. 271. sort (rank), i. 24. sort (company), i. 33. sovereign, ii. 205. sovereignty, v. 352. soundless, ix. 69. sourer sort, vi. 259. span, v. 218. Spanish needles, v. 11. Spanish sword, i. 55.
stoop, iv. 137.
Sparta, dog of, vi. 478. Spartan, ii. 141. speak at voley, v. 264. sped of loves, vi. 133. Spenser, iii. 392. Spenser, sir Robert, vi. 476. sphynx, iii. 392.
- T - vii. 199. spill it at me, v. 4O1. spinnet, vi. 469. Spinther, iv. 348. spire, iv. 227- spittle, the, i. 17.
----- viii. 414. spruntly, v. 105. spur, sound, ii. 49. spurs, gilt, ii. 66. spur, gingle, ii. 49.
ii. 83.
spur leathers gnawn, iii. 274.
spur-royal, iv. 114. Squib, Arthur, viii. 429.
squire (square), vi. 204. stab arms, ii. 298. stabbing arms, ii. 38O. stabbed Lucrece, ii. 341. stale, iv. 200.
- - vi. 408. stale, to, i. 42.
---- ii. 220. stalk, to, iii. 82. stammel, viii. 130. stand on gentility, iv. 12. starch beard, ii. 145. state, ii. 334.
- - vii. 87. statelich, iv. 79. statist, ii. 262. statues, painted, vi . 111. statuminate, v. 368. statute against players, ii. 401.
.......... ii. 454.
statute of sorcery, iv. 19. steeple of St. Paul's, v. 11. Stephens, John, viii. 344. Steward, lady Arabella, viir 47 . Stewart, lord steward, vii. 394. stews, a, i. 43. stickler, ii. 336. stoccata, i. 39. stone jugs, vii. 371. stool, on the stage, ii. 224. stoop, iv. 189. storks' bill, ii. 329. stote, iv. 4O7. stound, vi. 470. stramazoun, ii. 152. strange woman, iv. 418. strangled an hour, iv. 162. Stratford o' the Bow, v. 357. streights, iv. 429. strenuous vengeance, ii. 519. Strigonium, i. 67. stroke, vii. 86. stroker, vi. 84.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
441
Stuart, sir Fran. iii. 338. students of bears college, ii.541 . subtile lips, iv. 244. subtle, viii. 105. suburb humour, i. 26. Suffolk, earl of, viii. 188. sun, bright, iii. 257. Susan, countess of Montgo- mery, viii. 216. sweat night-caps, ii. 115. sweet Oliver, i. 98. Swinerton, viii. 426. Sylla, iv. 199.
Tabarine, iii. 211. tables, ii. 9O.
ii. 104.
iv. 478-
taint a staff, ii. 55.
ii. 179.
take in, i. 68.
take up, ii. 35.
take with you, ii. 133.
vii. 204.
take, viii. 301. talc, oil of, iv. 94. tall man, i. 124.
ii. 147.
tankard bearer, i. 24. Tarleton, iv. 364. Tarquin, iv. 276. Tatius, v. 394.
vi. 267-
tavern token, i. 29. tawney coat, ii. 451. tell, cannot, i. 125.
ii. 433.
iii. 109.
tempest, to, ii. 499. ten in the hundred, v. 2OO. terms of law, ii. 7- terra firma, Hi. 212. tertias, v. 3*6. Testament of love, v. 412. teston, i. 1O7.
VOL. IX. G
Theban, learned, viii. 46. Theobald's, vi. 406.
vii. 357.
thewes, viii. 127-
Thing done (a game), ii. 306.
thirdborough, vi. 135.
three farthings, i. 43.
three-piled, i. 75.
thread the needle, ii. 51.
three souls, ii. 515.
three pound thrum, iv. 12.
th reaves, iv. 164.
throng, v. 191.
thumb ring, v. 3.
Tiberius, iii. 98.
Tibert, viii. 246.
tick-tack, i. 77-
tidings, iii. 305.
time (tune), v. 180.
tinder boxes, iii. 27O.
tire (head dress), ii. 376.
ii. 432.
tire on, ii. 47OJ
- - - iv. 256.' Titan, iv. 270. Tithon, vii. 311. titivilitium, iii. 430. Titus Andronicus, iv. 368. tobacco, i. 88. tod, viii. 52. token, iv. 443- Toledo, i. 55. torned, v. 67. toothpicks, v. 137. t'other youth, iii, 37O. touch, viii. 252. toy, to mock an ape, i. 102. Tower, the, i. 129. trains of Kent, vi. 154. tralucent, vii. 78. travels of the egg, ii. 51. treachour, i. 138. trick arms, ii. 101.
ii. 401.
trig, iv. 154. Trinidado, i. 88.
442
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
Tripoli, come from, iii. 472.
viii. 226.
Triumph (playhouse), ii. 455. triumphed world, iii. 17. triumphs, viii. 93. troll, i. 22. trowses. v. 171. truchman, ii. 336. Trundle, John, i. 22. trundling cheats, v. 386. trunk (Coryat's), vii. 354. trunk, iii. 354.
vii. 216.
trunk?, round, iv. 101. tucket, vi. 344. Ttidesco, vi. 33, tumbler, ii. 407. Turkish discipline, iii. 364. turned, v. 70. Turnmill-street, i. 17. turn tippet, vi. 378. turnpike, v. 235. turquoise, iii. 15. tusk, iv. 215. two-penny room, ii. 24. two-penny ward, ii. 208. two-penny tearmouth, ii. 451, twelfth caiact, iii. 195. twelve score, iii. 150. twire, vi. 280. Tyburn, v. 130.
U
Ulen spiegle, iv. 61.
iv. 75.
------ viii. 73.
umbre, ii. 349. uncouth, iii. 91, under favour, v. 21. under meal, iv. 473. undertaker, iii. 338. unequal, iii. 233. unicorn's horn, ii. 191. unicorn's milk, iii. 257- University show, iii. 174. unkindly, iii. 19,
unready, iv. 396. unrude, ii. 132. up, kill, ii. 44. Upsee Dutch, iv. 15O. Upsee Freeze, iv. 150. up tails all, i. 32. urn, ii. 523. uses, vi. 55. usquebagh, vii. 240. Utopia (England), vi. 359.
Vadian, vi. 188. vail, to, ii. 136.
ii- 450.
Valentine, vi. 133. vallies, vi. 173. Valois, iii. 253. vapour, ii. 106.
iv. 413.
vapours, iv. 483. varlet, i. 136.
- - - iii. 311. velvet cap, iv. 378. Venner, v. 13. ventriloquist, v. 212. venue, i. 39. Verdugo, iv. 104. Vere, lady, vii. 20. Vere, sir Horace, viii. 2O1 verloffe, v. 292. via sacra, ii. 431. Vice, the, iv. 41.
----- v. 9. vie, i. 100. viliaco, ii. 181. Vincent (herald), v. 365. vindicta ! ii. 456. violdegambo, ii. 125.
ii. 472.
Virgil, ii. 501. Vitruvius, vi. 224. voice, vi. 344. vomit pins, iii. 321. Voyages, book of, iii. 304. Vulcan, iii. 478.
GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
443
Vulcan, execration upon, viii.
415.
vultures, iii. 82. - - - - iii. 143.
W
Wage-law, v. 294. Walden, lord, vii. 54. walk knave ! vi. 109. Walsingham, vii. 20.
vii. 43.
Ward, the, iv. 471. Ward, the pirate, iv. 179. wardship, iv. 459. Ware, lord dela, viii. 451. Warre, Thomas, viii. 352. was, he, iv. 348. watch, iii. 15. watchmen, iv. 365. waterworks, iv. 29.
- iv. 111.
waxen epitaph, ix. 58. wealthy witness, viii. 195. wedlock, ii. 471. Weever, viii. 161. well-turned, v. 67. welt, iii. 468. wench, iii. 424. Weston, lord Rich. ix. 27-
ix. 29.
Weston, Jerome, ix. 34. what is he for a, ii. 27'
- iii. 397-
what do you lack, vi. 5» wh6r, v. 428. where, iv. 303. whetstone, ii. 222.
ii. 250.
Whetstone, iv. 391. whiff, the, ii. 9. while, v. 20. white of an egg, vi. 364. white money, ii. 158. Whitefriars, iii. 275. Whitenose, iii. 345. why when ! i. 148.
Williams, lord keeper, vii. 391.
. viii. 452.
Willoughby, lord, vii. 54. Windmill, the, i. 16. windsucker, iii. 363. wine of raisins, v. 47. wing, ii. 1O3. Winny, iv. 430. Winsor, lady, vii. 42. Winter, lady, vii. 42. wise woman, vi. 272. wish to, ii. 308.
- - - - iv. 242. wit, to keep warm, ii. 257- witchcraft, v. 152.
vii. 141.
Witches, vii. 141. withal, to do, iii. 47O. without (beyond), iii. 43. Wither, George, viii. 7- with peace, v. 53. witness, vi. 93. wolf, to see, ii. 208. wolf enters, ii. 261.
ii. 263.
wolf's hair, to pluck, iv. 381. wood, iv. 97' woodcock's head, ii. 127. woodcocks, ii. 151. Woolsack (ordinary), iv. 174. Worcester, lord, vii. 393. word, the, ii. 102.
viii. 163.
worms, ii. 389. worsted, iv. 23. wretchock, vii. 371. Wright, Thomas, viii. 351. write in family, iii. 184. writing tables, ii. 90. Wroth, lady Mary, iv. 5.
-. __ vii. 20.
viii. 215.
viii. 391.
Wroth, sir Robert, viii. 257. wrought shirts, i. 108.
444 GLOSSARIAL INDEX.
yellow starch, v. 1 6.
Y yeoman feuterer, ii. (54
Yellow coat, iii. 360. yet, ii. 239.
yellow doublets, iii. 369. York (herald), v. 365.
London : Printed by W. Bnlrner and Co Cleveland-row, St, James's.
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