EXPLORATA: OR,
DISCOƲERIES.
ILl
Fortune never crush't that man, whom good
Fortune deceived not.
Fortuna. I therefore have counselled my friends, never to trust to her fairer side, though she seem'd to make peace with them: But to place all things she gave them so, as she might aske them againe without their trouble; she might take them from them, not pull them: to keepe alwayes a distance betweene her, and themselves. He knowes 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 hee accounts it, and will make it.
Change into extremity is very frequent, and easie.
Casus. As when a beggar suddenly growes rich, he commonly becomes a Prodigall; for, to obscure his former obscurity, he puts on riot and excesse.
No man is so foolish,
Consilia. but may give an other good counsell sometimes; and no man is so wise, but may easily erre, if hee will take no others counsell, but his owne. But very few men are wise by their owne counsell; or learned by their owne teaching. For hee that was onely taught by himselfe, had a foole to his Master.
[...]. Fama.
A Fame that is wounded to the world, would bee better cured by anothers
Apologie, then its owne: For few can apply medicines well themselves. Besides, the man that is once hated, both his
good, and his
evill deeds oppresse him: Hee is not easily
emergent.
In great
Affaires it is a worke of difficulty to please all.
Negotia. And oft times wee lose the occasion of carrying a
busines well, and thoroughly, by our too much haste. For
Passions are spirituall Rebels, and raise sedition against the understanding.
There is a
Necessity all men should love their countrey:
Amor Patriae. He that professeth the contrary, may be delighted with his words, but his heart is there.
Natures that are hardned to
evill, you shall sooner breake,
Ingenia. then make straight; they are like poles that are crooked, and dry: there is no attempting them.
Wee
praise the things wee heare, with much more willingnesse,
Applausus. then those wee see: because wee envy the present, and reverence the past; thinking our selves instructed by the one, and over-laid by the other.
Opinion is a light, vaine, crude, and imperfect thing,
Opinio. settled in the Imagination; but never arriving at the understanding, there to obtaine the tincture of
Reason. Wee labour with it more then Truth. There is much more holds us, then presseth us. An ill fact is one thing, an ill fortune is another: Yet both often times sway us alike, by the error of our thinking.
Many men beleeve not themselves,
Impostura. what they would perswade others; and lesse doe the things, which they would impose on others: but least of all, know what they themselves most confidently boast. Only they set the signe of the Crosse over their outer doores, and sacrifice to their gut, and their groyne in their inner Closets.
[Page 88]
Iactura vitae.What a deale of cold busines doth a man mis-spend the better part of life in! in scattering
complements, tendring
visits, gathering and venting
newes, following
Feasts and
Playes, making a little winter-love in a darke corner.
Hypocrita.
Puritanus Hypocrita est Hareticus, quem opinio propriae perspicaciae, quâ sibi videtur, cum paucis in Ecclesiâ dogmatibus, errores quosdam animadvertisse, de statu mentis deturbavit: unde sacro furore percitus, phreneticè pugnut contru Magistratus, sic ratus, obedientiam praestare Deo.
Mutua auxilia.Learning needs rest: Soveraignty gives it. Soveraignty needs counsell: Learning affords it. There is such a Consociation of offices, betweene the
Prince, and whom his favour breeds, that they may helpe to sustaine his power, as hee their knowledge. It is the greatest part of his Liberality, his Favour: And from whom doth he heare discipline more willingly, or the Arts discours'd more gladly, then from those, whom his owne bounty, and benefits have made able and faithfull?
Cognit universi.In being able to counsell others, a Man must be furnish'd with an universall store in himselfe, to the knowledge of all
Nature: That is the matter, and seed-plot; There are the seats of all Argument, and Invention. But especially, you must be cunning in the nature of Man: There is the variety of things, which are as the
Elements, and
Letters, which his art and wisdome must ranke, and order to the present occasion. For wee see not all letters in single words; nor all places in particular discourses. That cause seldome happens, wherein a man will use all Arguments.
Consiliarii adjunct. Probitas. sapientia.The two chiefe things that give a man reputation incounsell, are the opinion of his
Honesty; and the opinion of his
Wisdome: The authority of those two will perswade, when the same Counsels utter'd by other persons lesse qualified, are of no efficacy, or working.
Wisedome without
Honesty is meere craft, and coofinage. And therefore the reputation of
Honesty must first be gotten; which cannot be, but by living well. A good life is a maine Argument.
Ʋita recta. Obsequentia. Humanitas. Sollicitudo.Next a good life, to beget love in the persons wee counsell, by dissembling our knowledge of ability in our selves, and avoyding all suspition of arrogance, ascribing all to their instruction, as an
Ambassadour to his Master, or a
Subject to his
Soveraigne; seasoning all with humanity and sweetnesse, onely expressing care and sollicitude. And not to counsell rashly, or on the suddaine, but with advice and meditation:
(Dat nox consilium.) For many foolish things fall from wise men, if they speake in haste, or be
extemporall. It therefore behooves the giver of counsell to be circumspect; especially to beware of those, with whom hee is not throughly acquainted, lest any spice of rashnesse, folly, or selfe-love appeare, which will be mark'd by new persons, and men of experience in affaires.
Modestia. Parrhesia.And to the
Prince, or his
Superiour, to behave himselfe 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 hee should have, especially in affaires of
State. For in otherthings they will more easily suffer themselves to be taught, or reprehended: They will not willingly contend. But heare (with
Alexander) the answer the
Musician gave him,
Absit ô Rex, ut tu meliùs hac sciat, quàm ego.
[Page 89]A man should so deliver himselfe to the nature of the subject,
Plutarc. in vita Alex. Perspicuitas. Elegantia. whereof hee speakes, that his hearer may take knowledge of his discipline with some delight: and so apparell faire, and good matter, that the studious of elegancy be not defrauded; redeeme Arts from their rough, and braky seates, where they lay hid, and over-growne with thornes, to a pure, open, and flowry light: where they may take the eye, and be taken by the hand.
I cannot thinke
Nature is so spent, and decay'd,
Natura a non effoeta. that she can bring forth nothing worth her former yeares. She is alwayes the same, like her selfe: And when she collects her strength, is abler still. Men are decay'd, and
studies: Shee is not.
I know
Nothing can conduce more to letters,
Non nimiùm cred
[...] dum antiquitati. then 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
Iudging, and
Pronouncing against them, be away; such as are
envy, bitternesse, precipitation, impudence, and
scurrile scoffing. For to all the observations of the
Ancients, wee have our owne experience: which, if wee will use, and apply, wee have better meanes to pronounce. It is true they open'd the gates, and made the way that went before us; but as Guides, not Commanders:
Non Domini nostri, sed Duces fuêre. Truth lyes open to all; it is no mans
severall. Patet omnibus veritas; nondum est occupata. Multum ex illâ, etiam futuris relicta est.
If in some things I dissent from others, whose
Wit, Industry,
Dissentire licet:
Diligence, and
Iudgement I looke up at, and admire: let me not therefore heare presently of Ingratitude, and Rashnesse. For I thanke those, that have taught me, and will ever:
Sed cum ratione. but yet dare not thinke the
scope of their labour, and enquiry, was to envy their posterity, what they also could adde, and find out.
If I erre, pardon me:
Nulla ars simul & inventa est, & absoluta.
Non mihi cedendum, I doe not desire to be equall to those that went before; but to have my reason examin'd with theirs, and so much faith to be given them, or me, as those shall evict. I am neither
Author, or
Fautor of any sect. I will have no man addict himselfe to mee; 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 a side. Stand for
Truth, and 'tis enough.
Sed veritati. Scientiae liberales.
Arts that respect the mind, were ever reputed nobler, then those that serve the body: though wee lesse can bee without them. As
Tillage, Spinning, Weaving, Building, &c. without which, wee could scarce sustaine life a day. But these were the workes of every hand; the other of the braine 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.
There is a more secret
Cause:
Non vulgi sunt. and the power of liberall studies lyes more hid, then that it can bee wrought out by profane wits. It is not every mans way to hit. They are men (I confesse) that set the
Caract, and
Value upon things, as they love them; but
Science is not every mans
Mistresse. 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.
If divers men seeke
Fame, or
Honour, by divers wayes;
Honesta Ambitio. so both bee
[Page 90] honest, neither is to be blam'd: But they that seeke
Immortality, are not onely worthy of leave, but of praise.
Maritus improbus.Hee hath a delicate Wife, a faire fortune, and family to goe to be welcome; yet hee had rather be drunke with mine Host, and the Fidlers of such a Towne, then goe home.
Afflictio pia Magistra. Deploratis facilis descensus Averni.
The Divell take all. Aegidius cursu superat. Prodigo nummi nauci. Munda et sordida. Debitum deploratum. Latro sesquipedalis.
Affliction teacheth a wicked person sometime to pray:
Prosperity never.
Many might goe to heaven with halfe the labour they goe to hell, if they would venture their industry the right way: But the Divell take all (quoth he) that was choak'd i' the Mill-dam, with his foure last words in his mouth.
A Criple in the way out-travels a Foot-man, or a Post out of the way.
Bags of money to a prodigall person, are the same that Cherry-stones are with some boyes, and so throwne away.
A woman, the more curious she is about her face, is commonly the more carelesse about her house.
Of this
Spilt water, there is little to bee gathered up: it is a desperate debt.
The
Theife
with a great belly. Com. de schortenhien Calumniae fructus. that had a longing at the Gallowes to commit one Robbery more, before hee was hang'd.
And like the
German-Lord, when hee went out of
New-gate into the Cart, tooke order to have his
Armes set up in his last Herborough: Said he was taken, and committed upon suspition of Treason▪ no witnesse appearing against him: But the Judges intertain'd him most civilly, discours'd with him, offer'd him the court'sie of the racke; but he confessed, &c.
I am beholden to
Calumny, that shee hath so endeavor'd, and taken paines to bely mee. It shall make mee set a surer Guard on my selfe, and keepe a better watch upon my
Actions.
Impertinens.
A tedious person is one a man would leape a steeple from; gallop down any steepe Hill to avoid him; forsake his meat, sleepe, nature it selfe, with all her benefits to shun him. A meere
Impertinent: one that touch'd neither heaven nor earth in his discourse. Hee open'd an entry into a faire roome; but shut it againe presently. I spake to him of
Garlicke, hee answered
Asparagus: consulted him of marriage, hee tels mee of hanging; as if they went by one, and the same
Destiny.
Bellum scribentium:What a sight it is, to see
Writers committed together by the eares, for
Ceremonies, Syllables, Points, Colons, Comma's, Hyphens, and the like? fighting, as for their fires, and their Altars; and angry that none are frighted at their noyses, and loud brayings under their asses skins?
Differentia interThere is hope of getting a fortune without digging in these quarries.
Sed meliore (in omne) ingenio, animo
(que) quàm fortunâ, sum usus.
Pinque solum lassat: sed juvat ipse labor.
Wits made out their severall expeditions then, for the discovery of
Truth,
Doctos et Sciolos. to find out great and profitable
Knowledges, had their severall instruments for the disquisition of Arts. Now there are certaine
Scioli, or
smatterers, that are busie in the skirts, and out-sides of Learning,
[Page 91] and have scarce any thing of solide literature to commend them. They may have some edging, or trimming of a Scholler, a welt, or so: but it is no more.
Imposture is a specious thing; yet never worse,
Im
[...]torum fucus. then when it faines to be best, and to none discover'd sooner, then the simplest. For
Truth and
Goodnesse are plaine, and open; but
Imposture is ever asham'd of the light.
A Puppet-play must be shadow'd, and seene in the darke: For draw the Curtaine,
Et sordet gesticulatio.
Icuncularum motio. Principes, et Administri.
There is a great difference in the understanding of some Princes, as in the quality of their Ministers about them. Some would dresse their Masters in gold, pearle, and all true Jewels of Majesty: Others furnish them with feathers, bels, and ribbands; and are therefore esteemed the fitter servants. But they are ever good men, that must make good the times: if the men be naught, the times will be such.
Finis expectandus est in unoquo
(que) hominum; animali, ad mutationem promptissimo.
It is a quick saying with the Spaniards:
Artes inter haeredes non dividi.
Scitum Hispanicum Yet these have inherited their fathers lying, and they brag of it. Hee is an narrow-minded man, that affects a Triumph in any glorious study: but to triumph in a lye, and a lye themselves have forg'd, is frontlesse.
Folly often goes beyond her bounds; but
Impudence knowes none.
Envy is no new thing, nor was it borne onely in our times.
Non nova res livor. The Ages past have brought it forth, and the comming Ages will. So long as there are men fit for it,
quorum odium virtute relictâ placet, it will never be wanting. It is a barbarous envy, to take from those mens vertues, which because thou canst not arrive at, thou impotently despaires to imitate. Is it a crime in me that I know that, which others had not yet knowne, but from me? or that I am the Author of many things, which never would have come in thy thought, but that I taught them? It is a new, but a foolish way you have found out, that whom you cannot equall, or come neere in doing, you would destroy, or ruine with evill speaking: As if you had bound both your wits, and natures prentises to slander, and then came forth the best Artificers, when you could forme the foulest calumnies.
Indeed, nothing is of more credit, or request now,
Nil gratius protervo lib. then a petulant paper, or scoffing verses; and it is but convenient to the times and manners wee live with; to have then the worst writings, and studies flourish, when the best begin to be despis'd.
Ill Arts begin, where good end.
The time was, when men would learne, and study good things; not envie those that had them. Then men were had in price for learning:
I am littera & sordent. now, letters onely make men vile. Hee is upbraydingly call'd a
Poet, as if it were a most contemptible
Nick-name. But the
Professors (indeed) have made the learning cheape. Rayling, and tinckling
Rimers, whose Writings the vulgar more greedily reade; as being taken with the scurtility, and pe
[...]ulancie of such wits. Hee shall not have a Reader now,
Pastus hodier. Ingen. unlesse hee jeere and lye. It is the food of mens natures: the diet of the times!
Gallants cannot sleepe else. The Writer must lye, and the gentle Reader rests happy, to heare the worthiest workes mis-interpreted; the clearest actions obscured▪ the innocent'st life traduc'd; And in such a licence of lying, field so f
[...]full of slande
[...] how can there be matter, wanting to his laughter? Hence comes the
Epidemicall Infection. For
[Page 92] how can they escape the contagion of the Writings, whom the virulency of the calumnies hath not stav'd off from reading.
Sed seculi morbus.
Nothing doth more invite a greedy Reader, then an unlook'd for
subject. And what more unlook'd for, then to see a person of an unblam'd 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 infirme: Old age it selfe is a disease. It is long since the sick world began to doate, and talke idly: Would she had but doated still; but her dotage is now broke forth into a madnesse, and become a meere phrency.
Alastoris malitia.This
Alastor, who hath left nothing unsearch'd, or unassayl'd, by his impudent, and licentious lying in his aguish writings (for he was in his cold quaking fit all the while:) what hath he done more, then a troublesome base curre? bark'd, and made a noyse a farre off: had a foole, or two to spit in his mouth, and cherish him with a musty bone? But they are rather enemies of my fame, then me, these Barkers.
Mali choragi fuere.It is an Art to have so much judgement, as to apparrell a Lye well, to give it a good dressing; that though the nakednesse would shew deform'd and odious, the suiting of it might draw their Readers. Some love any Strumpet (be shee never so shop-like, or meritorious) in good clothes. But these nature could not have form'd them better, to destroy their owne testimony; and over-throw their calumny.
Heare-say newes.That an
Elephant, 630. came hither Ambassadour from the great
Mogull, (who could both write and reade) and was every day allow'd twelve cast of bread, twenty Quarts of
Canary Sack; besides Nuts and Almonds the Citizens wives sent him. That hee had a
Spanish Boy to his Interpreter, and his chiefe
negotiation was, to conferre or practise with
Archy, the principall foole of
State, about stealing hence
Windsor Castle, and carrying it away on his back if he can.
Lingua sapientis.A
wise tongue should not be licentious, and wandring; but mov'd, and (as it were) govern'd with certaine raines from the heart, and bottome of the brest: and it was excellently said of that Philosopher; that there was a Wall, or Parapet of teeth set in our mouth, to restraine the petulancy of our words: that the rashnesse of talking should not only bee retarded by the guard, and watch of our heart; but be fenced in, and defended by certaine strengths, placed in the mouth it selfe, 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 confesse to speake they know not what.
Potius quàm loquents:Of the two (if either were to bee wisht) I would rather have a plaine downe-right wisdome, then a foolish and affected eloquence. For what is so furious, and
Bet'lem like, as a vaine sound of chosen and excellent words, without any subject of
sentence, or
science mix'd?
Optanda.Whom the disease of talking still once possesseth, hee can never hold his peace. Nay, rather then hee will not discourse, hee will hire men to heare him. And so heard, not hearkn'd unto, hee comes off most times like a
Mountebanke, that when hee hath prais'd his med'cines, finds none will take them,
Thersites Homeri. or trust him. Hee is like
Homers Thersites.
[Page 93]
[...]:
speaking without judgement,
Loquax magis, quàm facundus.
Salust.
Satis loquentia, sapientiae parum.
[...].
Optimus est homini linguae thesaurus, & ingens
Gratia, quae parcis mensurat singula verbis.
Vlysses in
Homer, is made a long thinking man, before hee speaks;
Homeri Vlysses. Pindar: Epaminond. De macatus Plutarchi. Vid. Zenxidis pict. serm. ad Megabizum Plutarch. and
Epaminondas is celebrated by
Pindar, to be a man, that though he knew much, yet hee 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? hee answer'd:
A foole could never hold his peace. For too much talking is ever the
Indice of a foole.
Dum tacet indoctus, poterit cordatus haberi;
Is morbos animi nam
(que) tacendo tegit.
Nor is that worthy speech of
Zeno, the Philosopher to be past over, without the note of ignorance: who being invited to a feast in
Athens, where a great Princes Ambassadours were entertain'd, and was the onely person had said nothing at the table; one of them with courtesie asked him; What shall we returne from thee,
Zeno, to the Prince our Master, if hee aske us of thee? Nothing, he replyed, more, but that you found an old man in
Athens, that knew to be silent amongst his cups. It was nere a Miracle, to see an old man silent; since talking is the disease of Age: but amongst cups makes it fully a wonder.
It was wittily said upon one, that was taken for a great, and grave man,
Argu
[...]e dictum. so long as hee held his peace: This man might have beene a Counsellor of
State till he spoke: But having spoken, not the Beadle of the Ward.
[...],
Pythag. quàm laudabilis!
Vide Apuleium.
[...]
Linguam cohibe, prae aliis omnibus, ad Deorum exemplum,
Invenal. Acutiùs cernuntur vitia, quàm virtutes.
Digito compesce labellum.
There is almost no man, but hee sees clearlier, and sharper, the vices in a speaker, then the vertues. And there are many, that with more ease, will find fault with what is spoken foolishly, then that can give allowance to, wherein you are wise silently. The treasure of a foole is alwayes in his tongue (said the witty
comick Poet) and it appeares not in any thing more,
Plautus. then in that nation; whereof one when hee had got the inheritance of an unlucky old
Grange, would needs sell it; and to draw buyers, proclaim'd,
Trin. Act. 2.
Scaen.
[...]. the vertues of it.
Nothing ever thriv'd on it (saith he.)
No owner of it, ever dyed in his bed; some hung, some drown'd themselves; some were banisht, some starv'd; the trees were all blasted, the Swyne dyed of the
Measils, the Cattell of the
Murren; the Sheepe of the
Rot; they that stood were ragg'd, bare, and bald, as your hand; nothing was ever rear'd there; not a Duckling, or a Goose.
Hospitium fuerat calamitatis.
Sim. Mart. lib.
1. ep.
85. Ʋulgi expectatio. Was not this man like to sell it?
Expectation of the
Vulgar is more drawne, and held with newnesse, then goodnesse; wee see it in
Fencers, in
Players, in
Poets, in
Preachers, in all, where
Fame promiseth any thing; so it be now, though never so naught, and depraved, they run to it, and are taken. Which shewes, that the only decay, or hurt of the best mens
reputation with the people, is, their wits
[Page 94] have out-liv'd the peoples palats. They have beene too much, or too long a feast.
Claritas Patria.
Greatnesse of name in the Father, oft times helpes not forth, but o'rewhelmes the Sonne: they stand too neere one another. The shadow kils the growth; so much, that wee see the Grand-child come more, and oftner to be the heire of the
first, then doth the
second: He dies betweene; the Possession is the
thirds.
Eloquentia.
Eloquence is a great, and diverse thing: Nor did she yet ever favour any man so much, as to become wholly his. Hee 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 beleeve, they may mistake their evidence: For it is one thing to be
eloquent in the
Schooles, or in the
Hall; another at the
Barre, or in the
Pulpit. There is a difference betweene
Meeting, and
Pleading; betweene
Fencing, and
Fighting. To make Arguments in my Study, and confute them is easie; where I answer my selfe, not an Adversary. So, I can see whole
volumes dispatch'd by the
vmbraticall Doctors on all sides: But draw these forth into the just lists; let them appeare
sub dio, and they are chang'd with the place, like bodies bred i'the
shade; they cannot suffer the
Sunne, or a
Showre; nor beare the open Ayre: they scarce can find themselves, that they were wont to domineere so among their Auditors: but indeed I would no more chuse a
Ehetorician, for reigning in a
Schoole; then I would a
Pilot, for rowing in a Pond.
Amor, et odium.
Love, that is ignorant, and
Hatred have almost the same ends: many foolish
Lovers wish the same to their friends, which their enemies would: As to wish a friend
banish't, that they might accompany him in
exile: or some great want, that they might relieve him: or a disease, that they might sit by him. They make a
Cawsway to their countrey by Injury; as if it were not honester to do nothing, then to seeke a way to doe good, by a
Mischefe.
Injuria.
Injuries doe not extinguish courtesies: they only suffer them not to appeare faire. For a man that doth me an injury after a courtesie, takes not away the courtesie, but defaces it: As he that writes other verses upon my verses, takes not away the first Letters, but hides them.
Beneficia.
Nothing is a courtesie, unlesse it be meant us; and that friendly, and lovingly. Wee owe no thankes to
Rivers, that they carry our boats; or Winds, that they be favouring, and fill our sayles; or meats, that they be nourishing. For these are, what they are
necessarily. Horses carry us, Trees shade us; but they know it not. It is true, some man may receive a Courtesie, and not know it; but never any man received it from him, that knew it not. Many men have beene cur'd of diseases by Accidents; but they were not Remedies. I my selfe have knowne one help'd of an Ague, by falling into a water; another whip'd out of a
Fever: but no man would ever use these for med'cines. It is the mind, and not the event, that distinguisheth the courtesie 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 Courtesie. I scap'd
Pyrats, by being ship-wrack'd, was the wrack a benefit therefore? No: The doing of
Courtesies aright, is the mixing of the respects for his owne sake, and for mine. He that doth them meerly for his owne sake, is like one that feeds his Cattell to sell them: he hath his Horse well drest for
Smithfield.
[Page 95]The price of many things is farre above,
Ʋalor Rerum. 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
Schoole-masters. But the fees of the one, or the
salary of the other, never answer the
value of what we received; but serv'd to gratifie their labours.
Memory of all the
powers of the mind, is the most
delicate, and
fraile: it is the first of our
faculties, that Age invades.
Seneca, the father, the
Rhetorician,
Memoria. confesseth of himselfe, hee had a miraculous one; not only to receive, but to hold. I my selfe could in my youth, have repeated all, that ever I had made; and so continued, till I was past fortie: Since, it is much decay'd in me. Yet I can repeate whole books that I have read, and
Poems, of some selected friends, which I have lik'd to charge my memory with. It was wont to be faithfull to me, but shaken with
age now, and
sloath (which weakens the strongest abilities) it may performe somewhat, but cannot promise much. By exercise it is to be made better, and serviceable. Whatsoever I pawn'd with it, while I was young, and a boy, it offers me readily, and without stops: but what I trust to it now, or have done of later yeares, it layes up more negligently, and often times loses; so that I receive mine owne (though frequently call'd for) as if it were new, and borrow'd. Nor doe I alwayes find presently from it, what I doe seek; but while I am doing another thing, that I labour'd for, will come: And what I sought with trouble, will offer it selfe, when I am quiet. Now in some men I have found it as happy as nature, who, whatsoever they reade, or pen, they can say without booke presently; as if they did then write in their mind. And it is more a wonder in such, as have a swift stile; for their
memories are commonly slowest; such as torture their writings, and go into councell for every word, must needs fixe somewhat, and make it their owne at last, though but through their owne vexation.
Suffrages in Parliament are numbred, not weigh'd:
Com't. Suffragia. nor can it bee otherwise in those publike
Councels, where nothing is so unequall, as the equality: for there, how odde soever mens braines, or wisdomes are, their power is alwayes even, and the same.
Some Actions be they never so beautifull, and generous,
Stare à partibus. are often obscur'd by base, and vile mis-constructions; either out of envy, or ill nature, that judgeth of others, as of it selfe. Nay, the times are so wholly growne, to be either partiall, or malitious; that, if hee be a friend, all sits well about him; his very vices shall be vertues: if an enemy, or of the contrary
faction; nothing is good, or tolerable in him: insomuch, that wee care not to discredit, and shame our judgements, to sooth our passions.
Man is read in his face:
God in his creatures; but not as the
Philosopher,
Deut in creaturis. the creature of glory reads him: But, as the
Divine, the servant of
humility: yet even hee must take care, not to be too curious. For to utter Truth of
God (But as hee thinkes onely) may be dangerous; who is best knowne, by our not knowing. Some things of him, so much as hee hath revealed, or commanded, it is not only lawfull, but necessary for us to know: for therein our ignorance was the first cause of our wickednesse.
Truth is mans proper good; and the onely
immortall thing,
Veritas proprium hominis. was given to our mortality to use. No good
Christian, or
Ethnick, if he be honest,
[Page 96] can misse it: no
States-man, or
Patriot should. For without truth all the Actions of man-kind, are craft, malice, or what you will, rather then Wisdome.
Homer sayes, hee hates him worse then hell-mouth, that utters one thing with his tongue, and keepes another in his brest. Which high expression was grounded on divine
Reason. For a lying mouth is a stinking pit, and murthers with the contagion it venteth. Beside, nothing is lasting that is fain'd; it will have another face then it had, ere long: As
Euripides saith,
No lye ever growes old.
Nullum vicium sine patrocinio.It is strange, there should be no vice without his patronage, that (when wee have no other excuse) wee will say, wee love it; wee cannot forsake it: as if that made it not more a fault. Wee cannot, because wee thinke wee cannot: and wee love it, because wee will defend it. Wee will rather excuse it, then be rid of it. That wee cannot, is pretended; but that wee will not, is the true reason. How many have I knowne, that would not have their vices hid? Nay, and to bee noted, live like
Antipodes, to others in the same
Citie; never see the Sunne rise, or set, in so many yeares; but be as they were watching a Corps by Torch-light; would not sinne the common way; but held that a kind of
Rusticity; they would doe it new, or contrary, for the infamy? They were ambitious of living backward; and at last arrived at that, as they would love nothing but the vices; not the vitious customes. It was impossible to reforme these natures; they were dry'd, and hardned in their ill. They may say, they desir'd to leave it; but doe not trust them: and they may thinke they desir'd it, but they may lye for all that; they are a little angry with their follies, now and then; marry they come into grace with them againe quickly. They will confesse, they are offended with their manner of living: like enough, who is not? When they can put me in security, that they are more then offended; that they hate it: then Ile hearken to them; and, perhaps, beleeve them: But many now a dayes, love and hate their ill together.
De verè Argutis.I doe heare them say often: Some men are not witty; because they are not every where witty; then which nothing is more foolish. If an eye or a nose bee an excellent part in the face, therefore be all eye or nose? I thinke the eye-brow, the fore-head, the cheeke, chyn, lip, or any part else, are as necessary, and naturall in the place. But now nothing is good that is naturall: Right and naturall language seeme to have least of the wit in it; that which is writh'd and tortur'd, is counted the more exquisite. Cloath of Bodkin, or Tissue, must be imbrodered; as if no face were faire, that were not pouldred, or painted? No beauty to be had, but in wresting, and writhing our owne tongue? Nothing is fashionable, till it bee deform'd; and this is to write like a
Gentleman. All must bee as affected, and preposterous as our Gallants cloathes, sweet bags, and night-dressings: in which you would thinke our men lay in; like
Ladies: it is so curious.
Consura de Poetis.
Nothing in our Age, I have observ'd, is more preposterous, then the
running Iudgements upon
Poetry, and
Poets; when wee shall heare those things commended, and cry'd up for the best writings, which a man would scarce vouchsafe, to wrap any wholsome drug in; hee would never light his
Tobacco with them. And those men almost nam'd for
Miracles, who yet are so vile, that if a man should goe about, to examine, and
[Page 97] correct them, hee must make all they have done, but one blot. Their good is so intangled with their bad, as forcibly one must draw on the others death with it. A Sponge dipt in Inke will doe all:
—Comitetur punica librum
Spongia.—
Et paulo post,
‘Non possunt multa, una litura potest.
Mart. l.
4. epig.
10.’
Yet their vices have not, hurt them: Nay, a great many they have profited; for they have beene lov'd for nothing else. And this false opinion growes strong against the best men: if once it take root with the
Ignorant. Cestius in his time, was preferr'd to
Cicero; so farre,
Cestius. Cicero. as the Ignorant durst. They learn'd him without booke, and had him often in their mouthes: 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 seene now in despight of the Players:
Heath's
Epigrams,
Heath. Taylor. and the
Skullers Poems have their applause. There are never wanting, that dare preferre the worst
Preachers, the worst
Pleaders, the worst
Poets: not that the better have left to write, or speake better, but that they that heare them judge worse;
Non illi pejus dicunt, sed hi corruptiùs judicant. Nay, if it were put to the question of the Water-rimers workes, against
Spencers; I doubt not, but they would find more
Suffrages;
Spencer. because the most favour common vices, out of a Prerogative the vulgar have, to lose their judgements; and like that which is naught.
Poetry in this latter Age, hath prov'd but a meane
Mistresse, to such as have wholly addicted themselves to her; or given their names up to her family. They who have but saluted her on the by; and now and then tendred their visits, shee hath done much for, and advanced in the way of their owne professions (both the
Law, and the
Gospel) beyond all they could have hoped, or done for themselves, without her favour. Wherein she doth emulate the judicious, but preposterous bounty of the times
Grandes: who accumulate all they can upon the
Parasite, or
Fresh-man in their friendship; but thinke an old Client, or honest servant, bound by his place to write, and starve.
Indeed, the multitude commend Writers, as they doe Fencers; or Wrastlers; who if they come in robustiously, and put for it, with a deale of violence, are received for the
braver-fellowes: when many times their owne rudenesse is a cause of their disgrace; and a slight touch of their Adversary, gives all that boisterous force the foyle. But in these things, the unskilfull are naturally deceiv'd, and judging wholly by the bulke, thinke rude things greater then polish'd; and scatter'd more numerous, then compos'd: Nor thinke 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 cloaths, not in judgement or understanding.
I remember,
De Shakespeare nostrat. the Players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing, (whatsoever he penn'd) hee never blotted out line. My answer hath beene, would he had blotted a thousand. Which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ignorance, who choose that circumstance to commend their friend
[Page 98] by, wherein he most faulted. And to justifie mine owne candor, (for I lov'd the man, and doe honour his memory (on this side Idolatry) as much as any.) Hee was (indeed) honest, and of an open, and free nature: had an excellent
Phantsie; brave notions, and gentle expressions: wherein hee flow'd with that facility, that sometime it was necessary he should be stop'd:
Augustus in Hat.
Sufflaminandus erat; as
Augustus said of
Haterius. His wit was in his owne power; would the rule of it had beene so too. Many times hee fell into those things, could not escape laughter: As when hee said in the person of
Caesar, one speaking to him;
Casar thou dost me wrong. Hee replyed:
Caesar did never wrong, but with just cause: and such like, which were ridiculous. But hee redeemed his vices, with his vertues. There was ever more in him to be praysed, then to be pardoned.
Ingeniorum discrimina.
In the difference of wits, I have observ'd; there are many notes: And it is a little
Maistry to know them: to discerne, what every nature, every
Not. 1 disposition will beare: For, before wee sow our land, we should plough it. There are no fewer formes of minds, then of bodies amongst us. The variety is incredible; and therefore wee 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 doe good, where nature is wanting. Some wits are swelling, and high; others low and still: Some hot and fiery; others cold and dull: One must have a bridle, the other a sporre.
Not. 2
There be some that are forward, and bold; and these will doe every little thing easily: I meane that is hard by, and next them, which they will utter, unretarded without any shamefastnesse. These never performe much, but quickly. They are, what they are on the sudden; they shew presently like
Graine, that, scatter'd on the top of the ground, shoots up, but takes no root; has a yellow blade, but the eare empty. They are wits of good promise at first, but there is an
A witstand.
Ingeni-stitium: They stand still at sixteene, they get no higher.
Not. 3 You have others, that labour onely to ostentation; and are ever more busie about the colours, and surface of a worke, then in the matter, and foundation: For that is hid, the other is seene.
Not. 4
Martial. lib.
11. epig.
91.
Others, that in composition are nothing, but what is rough, and broken:
Qua per salebras, alta
(que) saxa cadunt. And if it would come gently, they trouble it of purpose. They would not have it run without rubs, as if that stile were more strong and manly, that stroke the eare with a kind of unevenesse. These men erre not by chance, but knowingly, and willingly; they are like men that affect a fashion by themselves, have some singularity in a Ruffe, Cloake, or Hat-band; or their beards, specially cut to provoke beholders, and set a marke upon themselves. They would be reprehended, while they are look'd on. And this vice, one that is in authority with the rest, loving, delivers over to them to bee imitated: so that oft-times the faults which he fell into, the others seeke for: This is the danger, when vice becomes a
Precedent.
Not. 5 Others there are, that have no composition at all; but a kind of tuneing, and riming fall, in what they vvrite. It runs and slides, and onely makes a sound. Womens-
Poets they are call'd. as you have womens-
Taylors.
[Page 99]
They write a verse, as smooth, as soft, as creame;
In which there is no torrent, nor scarce streame.
You may sound these wits, and find the depth of them, with your middle finger. They are
Cream-bowle, or but puddle deepe.
Some that turne over all bookes, and are equally searching in all papers,
Not. 6 that write out of what they presently find or meet, without choice; by which meanes it happens, that what they have discredited, and impugned in one worke, they have before, or after extolled the same in another. Such are all the
Essayists, even their Master
Mountaigne.
Mic. de Montaigne. These in all they write, confesse still what bookes they have read last; and therein their owne folly, so much, that they bring it to the
Stake raw, and undigested: not that the place did need it neither; but that they thought themselves furnished, and would vent it.
Some againe, who (after they have got authority, or, which is lesse, opinion,
Not. 7 by their writings, to have read much) dare presently to faine whole bookes, and Authors, and lye safely. For what never was, will not easily be found; not by the most
curious.
And some, by a cunning protestation against all reading, and false venditation
Not. 8 of their owne
naturals, thinke to divert the
sagacity of their Readers from themselves, and coole the sent of their owne
fox-like thefts; when yet they are so ranke, a
[...] a man may find whole pages together usurp'd from one Author. Their necessities compelling them to read for present use, which could not be in many books; and so come forth more ridiculously, and palpably guilty, then those; who because they cannot trace, they yet would slander their industry.
But the Wretcheder are the obstinate contemners of all helpes, and
Not. 9 Arts: such as presuming on their owne
Naturals (which perhaps are excellent) dare deride all diligence, and seeme to mock at the termes, 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 Peeres in negligence, though they cannot be in nature: And they utter all they can thinke, with a kind of violence, and
indisposition; unexamin'd, without relation, either to person, place, or any fitnesse else; an the more wilfull, and stubborne, they are in it, the more learned they are esteem'd of the
multitude, through their excellent vice of Judgement; Who thinke those things the stronger, that have no Art: as if to breake, were better then to open; or to rent asunder, gentler then to loose.
It cannot but come to passe, that these men, who commonly seeke to
Not. 10 doe more then enough, may sometimes happen on some thing that is good, and great; but very seldome: And when it comes, it doth not recompence the rest of their ill. For their jests, and their sentences (which they onely, and ambitiously seeke for) sticke out, and are more eminent; because all is sordid, and vile about them; as lights are more discern'd in a thick darkenesse, then a faint shadow. Now because they speake all they can (how ever unfitly) they are thought to have the greater copy; Where the learned use ever election, and a meane; they looke back to what they intended at first, and make all an even, and proportion'd body. The true Artificer will not run away from nature, as hee
[Page 100] were afraid of her; or depart from life, and the likenesse of Truth; but speake to the capacity of his hearers. And though his language differ from the vulgar somewhat; it shall not fly from all humanity, with the
Tamerlanes, and
Tamer-Chams, of the late Age, which had nothing in them but the
scenicall strutting, and furious vociferation, to warrant them them to the ignorant gapers. Hee knowes it is his onely Art, so to carry it, as none but Artificers perceive it. In the meane time perhaps hee is call'd barren, dull, leane, a poore Writer (or by what contumelious word can come in their cheeks) by these men, who without labour, judgement, knowledge, or almost sense, are received, or preferr'd before him. He gratulates them, and their fortune. An other Age, or juster men, will acknowledge the vertues of his studies: his wisdome, in dividing: his subtilty, in arguing: with what strength hee doth inspire his Readers: with what sweetnesse, hee strokes them; in inveighing: what sharpenesse; in Jest, what urbanity hee uses. How he doth raigne in mens affections; how invade, and breake in upon them; and makes their minds like the thing he writes. Then in his Elocution to behold, what word is proper: which hath ornament: which height: what is beautifully translated: where figures are fit: which gentle, which strong to shew the composition
Manly. And how hee hath avoyded, faint, obscure, obscene, sordid, humble, improper, or effeminate
Phrase; which is not only prais'd of the most, but commended, (which is worse) especially for that it is naught.
Ignorantia anima.
I know no disease of the
Soule, but
Ignorance; not of the Arts, and Sciences, but of it selfe: Yet relating to those, it is a pernicious
evill: the darkner of mans life: the disturber of his
Reason, and common Confounder of
Truth: with which a man goes groping in the darke, no otherwise, then if hee were blind. Great understandings are most wrack'd and troubled with it: Nay, sometimes they will rather choose to dye, then not to know the things, they study for. Thinke then what an evill it is: and what good the contrary.
Scientia.
Knowledge is the action of the
Soule; and is perfect without the
senses, as having the seeds of all
Science, and
Vertue in its selfe: but not without the service of the
senses: by those Organs, the
Soule workes: She is a perpetuall Agent, prompt and subtile; but often flexible, and erring; intangling her selfe like a Silke-worme: But her
Reason is a weapon with two edges, and cuts through. In her Indagations oft-times new Sents put her by; and shee takes in errors into her, by the same conduits she doth Truths.
Otium.
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 mans wit; when to favour it. I have knowne a man vehement on both sides; that knew no meane, either to intermit his studies, or call upon them againe. When hee hath set himselfe to wriing, hee would joyne night to day; presse upon himselfe without release, not minding it, till hee fainted: and when hee left off, resolve himselfe into all sports, and loosenesse againe; that it was almost a despaire to draw him to his booke: But once got to it, hee grew stronger, and more earnest by the ease. His whole Powers were renew'd: he would worke out of himselfe, what hee desired; but with such excesse, as his
[Page 101] study could not bee rul'd:
Studiorum. hee knew not how to dispose his owne Abilities, or husband them, hee was of that immoderate power against himselfe. Nor was hee only a strong, but an absolute
Speaker, and
Writer: but his subtilty did not shew it selfe; his judgement thought that a vice. For the ambush hurts more that is hid. Hee never forc'd his language, nor went out of the high-way of
speaking; but for some great necessity, or apparent profit. For hee denied
Figures to be invented for ornament, but for ayde; and still thought it an extreme madnesse to bend, or wrest that which ought to be right.
It is no
Wonder, mens eminence appeares but in their owne way.
Et stili eminentia. Virgil. Tully. Salust. Plato.
Virgils felicity left him in prose, as
Tullies forsooke him in verse.
Salusts Orations are read in the honour of Story: yet the most eloquent
Plato's speech, which he made for
Socrates, is neither worthy or the
Patron, or 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 onely to braines, but to bodies. One can wrastle well; another runne well; a third leape, or throw the barre; a fourth lift, or stop a Cart going: Each hath his way of strength. So in other creatures; some dogs are for the Deere: some for the wild Boare: some are Fox-hounds: some Otterhounds. Nor are all horses for the Coach, or Saddle; some are for the Cart, and Panniers.
I have knowne many excellent men, that would speake suddenly,
De claris Oratoribu
[...] to the admiration of their hearers; who upon study, and premeditation have beene forsaken by their owne wits; and no way answered their fame: Their eloquence was greater, then their reading: and the things they uttered, better then those they knew. Their fortune deserved better of them, then their care. For men of present spirits, and of greater wits, then study, doe please more in the things they invent, then in those they bring. And I have heard some of them compell'd to speake, out of necessity, that have so infinitly exceeded themselves, as it was better, both for them, and their Auditory, that they were so surpriz'd, not prepar'd. Nor was it safe then to crosse them, for their adversary, their anger made them more eloquent. Yet these men I could not but love, and admire, that they return'd to their studies. They left not diligence (as many doe) when their rashnesse prosper'd. For diligence is a great ayde, even to an indifferent wit; when wee are not contented with the examples of our owne Age, but would know the face of the former. Indeed, the more wee conferre with, the more wee profit by, if the persons be chosen.
One, though hee be excellent, and the chiefe,
Dominus Verulanus. is not to bee imitated alone. For never no Imitator, ever grew up to his
Author; likenesse is alwayes on this side Truth: Yet there hapn'd, in my time, one noble
Speaker, who was full of gravity in his speaking. His language, (where hee could spare, or passe by a jest) was nobly
censorious. No man ever spake more neatly, more presly, more weightily, or suffer'd lesse emptinesse, lesse idlenesse, in what hee utter'd. No member of his speech, but consisted of the owne graces. His hearers could not cough, or looke aside from him, without losse. Hee commanded where hee spoke; and had his Judges angry, and pleased at his devotion. No man had their
[Page 102] affections more in his power. The feare of every man that heard him, was, lest hee should make an end.
Scriptorum Catalogus.
Sir Thomas Moore.
Sir Thomas Wiat. Hen: Earle of Surrey.
Sir Thomas Chaloner.
Sir Thomas Smith.
Sir Thomas Eliot.
B. Gardiner.
Sir Nic: Bacon.
L.K. Sir Philip Sydney.
M. Richard Hooker. Rob. Earle of Essex.
Sir Walter Raleigh.
Sir Henry Savile.
Sir Edwin Sands.
Sir Thomas Egerton.
L. C. Sir Francis Bacon.
L. C. De Augmentis scientiarum. Iulius Caesar.
Lord S. Albane. Horat: de art: Poetica. De corruptela morum.
Cicero is said to bee the only wit, that the people of
Rome had equall'd to their
Empire. Ingenium par imperio. We have had many, and in their severall Ages, (to take in but the former
Seculum.) Sir Thomas Moore, the elder
Wiat; Henry, Earle of
Surrey; Chaloner, Smith, Cliot, B.
Gardiner, were for their times admirable: and the more, because they began Eloquence with us. Sir
Nico: Bacon, was singular, and almost alone, in the beginning of Queene
Elizabeths times. 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 judgement met. The Earle of
Essex, noble and high; and Sir
Walter Rawleigh, not to be contemn'd, either for judgement, or stile. Sir
Henry Savile grave, and truly letter'd; Sir
Edwin Sandes, excellent in both: Lo:
Egerton, the Chancellor, a grave, and great Orator; and best, when hee was provok'd. But his learned, and able (though unfortunate)
Successor) is he, who hath fill'd up all numbers; and perform'd that in our tongue, which may be compar'd, or preferr'd, either to insolent
Greece, or haughty
Rome. In short, within his view, and about his times, were all the wits borne, that could honour a language, or helpe study. Now things daily fall: wits grow downe-ward, and
Eloquence growes back-ward: So that hee may be nam'd, and stand as the
marke, and
[...] of our language.
I have ever observ'd it, to have beene the office of a wise Patriot, among the greatest affaires of the
State, to take care of the
Common-wealth of Learning. For Schooles, they are the
Seminaries of State: and nothing is worthier the study of a States-man, then that part of the
Republicke, which wee call the
advancement of Letters. Witnesse the care of
Iulius Caesar; who in the heat of the civill warre, writ his bookes of
Analogie, and dedicated them to
Tully. This made the late Lord S.
Albane, entitle his worke,
nonum Organum. Which though by the most of superficiall men; who cannot get beyond the Title of
Nominals, it is not penetrated, nor understood: it really openeth all defects of Learning, whatsoever; and is a Booke.
Qui longum noto scriptori porriget aevum.
My conceit of his Person was never increased toward him, by his place, or honours. But I have, and doe reverence him for the greatnesse, that was onely proper to himselfe, in that hee seem'd to mee ever, by his worke one of the greatest men, and most worthy of admiration, that had beene in many Ages. In his adversity I ever prayed, that
God would give him strength: for
Greatnesse hee could not want. Neither could I condole in a word, or syllable for him; as knowing no Accident could doe harme to vertue; but rather helpe to make it manifest.
There cannot be one colour of the mind; an other of the wit. If the mind be staid, grave, and compos'd; the wit is so, that vitiated, the other is blowne, and deflowr'd. Doe wee not see, if the mind languish, the members are dull? Looke upon an effeminate person: his very gate confesseth him. If a man be fiery, his motion is so: if angry, 'tis troubled, and violent. So that wee may conclude: Wheresoever, manners,
[Page 103] and fashions are corrupted; Language is. It imitates the publicke riot. The excesse of Feasts, and apparell, are the notes of a sick State; and the wantonnesse of language, of a sick mind.
If wee would consider, what our affaires are indeed;
De rebus mundanis. not what they are call'd, wee should find more evils belong us, then happen to us. How often doth that, which was call'd a calamity, prove the beginning, and cause of a mans happinesse? And on the contrary: that which hapned, or came to an other with great gratulation, and applause, how it hath lifted him, but a step higher to his ruine! As, if hee stood before, where hee might fall safely.
Vulgi mores.
The vulgar are commonly ill-natur'd; and alwayes grudging against their
Governours: which makes, that a Prince has more busines, and trouble with them, then ever
Hercules had with the Bull, or any other beast: by how much they have more heads, then will be rein'd with one bridle. There was not that variety of beasts in the Arke; as is of beastly natures in the multitude; especially when they come to that iniquity, to censure their
Soveraign's actions. Then all the
Counsels are made good,
Morbus Comitial
[...]. or bad by the events. And it falleth out, that the same facts receive from them the names; now of diligence; now, of vanity; now of Majesty; now of fury: where they ought wholy to hang on his mouth; as hee to consist of himselfe; and not others counsels.
Princeps.
After God, nothing is to be lov'd of man like the Prince: He violates nature, that doth it not with his whole heart. For when hee hath put on the care of the publike good, and common safety; I am a wretch, and put o
[...] man, if I doe not reverence, and honour him: in whose charge all things
divine and
humane are plac'd. Doe but aske of nature, why all living creatures are lesse delighted with meat, and drinke, that sustaines them, then with
Venery, that wastes them. And she will tell thee, the first respects but a private; the other, a common good,
Propagation.
De eodem.
Hee is the Arbiter of life, and death: when hee finds no other subject for his mercy, hee should spare himselfe.
Orpheus hymn. All his punishments are rather to correct, then to destroy. Why are prayers with
Orpheus said to be the daughters of
Iupiter; but that Princes are thereby admonished, that the petitions of the wretched, ought to have more weight with them, then the Lawes themselves.
It was a great acculation to his Majesties deserved prayse;
De opt. Rege Iacobo. that men might openly visit, and pitty those, whom his greatest prisons had at any time received, or his Lawes condemned.
Wise, is rather the Attribute of a Prince, then
learned, or
good.
De Prin
[...]: adjunctie. —Sed verè prudens hand concipi possit Princeps, nisi—simul & bonus. Licurgus. Sylla. Lysander. Cyrus. The learned man profits others, rather then himselfe: the good man, rather himselfe then others: But the Prince commands others, and doth himselfe. The wise
Licurgus gave no Law, but what himselfe kept.
Sylla, and
Lysander, did not so: the one living, extreamely dissolute himselfe, inforced frugality by the Lawes: the other permitted those Licences to others, which himselfe abstained from. But the
Princes Prudence is his chiefe Art, and safety. In his Counsels, and deliberations hee foresees the future times. In the equity of his judgement, hee hath remembrance of the past; and knowledge of what is to bee done, or avoyded for the present. Hence the
Persians gave out their
Cyrus, to have beene nurs'd by a Bitch, a creature to encounter it; as of sagacity to seeke out good;
[Page 104] shewing that
Wisdome may accompany fortitude, or it leaves to be, and puts on the name of
Rashnesse.
De maligu: studentium.
There be some men are borne only to sucke out the poyson of bookes:
Habent venenum pro victu: imò, pro deliciis. And such are they that only rellish the obscene, and foule things in
Poets: Which makes the profession taxed. But by whom? men, that watch for it, (and had they not had this hint) are so unjust valuers of Letters; as they thinke no Learning good, but what brings in gaine. It shewes they themselves would never have beene of the professions they are; but for the profits and fees. But, if an other Learning, well used, can instruct to good life, informe manners; no lesse perswade, and leade men, then they threaten, and compell, and have no reward, is it therefore the worse study? I could never thinke the study of
Wisdome confin'd only to the Philosopher: or of
Poetry to the
Divine: or of
State to the
Politicke. But that he which can faine a
Common-wealth (which is the
Poet) can gowne it with
Counsels, strengthen it with
Lawes, correct it with
Iudgements, informe it with
Religion, and
Morals; is all these. Wee doe not require in him meere
Elocution; or an excellent faculty in verse; but the exact knowledge of all vertues; and their Contraries; with ability to render the one lov'd, the other hated, by his proper embattaling them. The Philosophers did insolently, to challenge only to themselves that which the greatest
Generals, and gravest
Counsellors never durst. For such had rather doe, then promise the best things.
Controvers. scriptores.Some
Controverters in Divinity are like Swaggerers in a Taverne, that catch that which stands next them; the candlesticke, or pots; turne every thing into a weapon:
More Andabatarum, qui clausis oculis pugnant. oft times they fight blind-fold; and both beate the Ayre. The one milkes a Hee-goat, the other holds under a Sive. Their Arguments are as fluxive as liquour spilt upon a Table; which with your finger you may draine as you will. Such Controversies, or Disputations, (carried with more labour, then profit) are odious: where most times the Truth is lost in the midst; or left untouch'd. And the fruit of their fight is; that they spit one upon another, and are both defil'd. These Fencers in Religion, I like not.
Morbi.
The Body hath certaine diseases, that are with lesse evill tolerated, then remov'd. As if to cure a
Leprosie, a man should bathe himselfe with the warme blood of a murthered Child: So in the Church, some errors may be dissimuled with lesse inconvenience, then can be discover'd.
Iactantia intempestiva.
Men that talke of their owne benefits, are not beleev'd to talke of them, because they have done them: but to have done them, because they might talke of them. That which had beene great, if another had reported it of them, vanisheth; and is nothing, if hee that did it speake of it. For men, when they cannot destroy the deed, will yet be glad to take advantage of the boasting, and lessen it.
Adulatio.
I have seene, that
Poverty makes men doe unfit things; but honest men should not doe them: they should gaine otherwise. Though a man bee hungry, hee should not play the Parasite. That houre, wherein I would repent me to be honest: there were wayes enow open for me to be rich. But
Flattery is a fine Pick-lock of tender eares: 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
[Page 105] never be taken, in that abundance, with the Sprindges of others
Flattery, if they began not there; if they did but remember, how much more profitable the bitternesse of
Truth were, then all the honey distilling from a whorish voice; which is not praise, but poyson. But now it is come to that extreme folly, or rather madnesse with some: that he that flatters them modestly, or sparingly, is thought to maligne them. If their friend consent not to their vices, though hee doe not contradict them; hee is neverthelesse an enemy. When they doe all things the worst way, even then they looke for praise. Nay, they will hire fellowes to flatter them with suites, and suppers, and to prostitute their judgements. They have
Livery-friends, friends of the dish, and of the
Spit, that waite their turnes, as my Lord has his feasts, and guests.
I have considered, our whole life is like a
Play:
De vita humana. Wherein every man forgetfull of himselfe, is in travaile with expression of another. Nay, wee so insist in imitating others, as wee cannot (when it is necessary) returne to ourselves: like Children, that imitate the vices of
Stammerers so long, till at last they become such; and make the habit to another nature, as it is never forgotten.
Good men are the Stars the Planets of the Ages wherein they live,
De piis & probis. and illustrate the times.
God did never let them be wanting to the world: As
Abel, for an example, of Innocency;
Enoch of Purity,
Noah of Trust in Gods mercies,
Abraham of Faith, and so of the rest. These sensuall men thought mad, because they would not be partakers, or practisers of their madnesse. But they plac'd high on the top of all vertue, look'd downe on the Stage of the world, and contemned the Play of
Fortune. For though the most be Players, some must be
Spectators.
I have discovered, that a fain'd familiarity in great ones,
Mores Aulici. is a note of certaine usurpation on the lesse. For great and popular men, faine themselves to bee servants to others, to make those slaves to them. So the Fisher provides baits for the Trowte, Roch, Dace, &c. that they may be food to him.
The Complaint of Caligula, was most wicked,
Impiorum querela. Augustus, Varus. Tiberius. of the condition of his times: when hee said; They were not famous by any publike calamity, as the reigne of
Augustus was, by the defeat of
Varus, and the
Legions; and that of
Tiberius, by the falling of the Theater at
Iidenae: whilst his oblivion was eminent, through the prosperity of his affaires. As that other voice of his, was worthier a heads-man, then a head; when hee wished the people of
Rome had but one neck. But he found (when he fell) they had many hands. A Tyranne, how great and mighty soever hee may seeme to
Cowards and Sluggards; is but one creature, one
Animal.
I have mark'd among the
Nobility,
Nobilium Ingenia. some are so addicted to the service of the
Prince, and Common-wealth, as they looke not for spoyle; such are to be honour'd, and lov'd. There are others, which no obligation will fasten on; and they are of two sorts. The first are such as love their owne ease: or, out of vice, of nature, or selfe-directio
[...] avoide busines and care. Yet, these the
Prince may use with safety. The other remove themselves upon craft, and designe (as the
Architects say) with a premeditated thought to their owne, rather then their
Princes profit. Such let the
Prince take heed of, and not doubt to reckon in the List of his open enemies.
[Page 106]
Principum varia. —Firmissimaverò omnium basis jus haereditarium Principis—.
There is a great variation betweene him, that is rais'd to the
Soveraignity, by the favour of his Peeres; and him that comes to it by the suffrage of the people. The first holds with more difficulty; because hee hath to doe with many, that thinke themselves his equals; and rais'd him for their owne greatnesse, and oppression of the rest. The latter hath no upbraiders; but was rais'd by them, that sought to be defended from oppression: whose end is both the easier, and the honester to satisfie. Beside, while he hath the people to friend, who are a multitude, he hath the lesse feare of the
Nobility, who are but few. Nor let the common Proverbe of (Hee 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 publike 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) hee shall ever make, and hold them faithfull.
Clementia.
A Prince should exercise his cruelty, not by himselfe, but by his Ministers: so hee may save himselfe, and his dignity with his people, by sacrificing those,
Macchiavell. when he list, saith the great
Doctor of
State, Macchiavell. But I say, he puts off man, and goes into a beast, that is cruell. No vertue is a
Princes owne; or becomes him more, then this
Clemency: And no glory is greater, then to be able to save with his power. Many punishments sometimes, and in some cases as much discredit a Prince, as many Funerals a
Physician. The state of things is secur'd by Clemency; Severity represseth a few, but it irritates more.
Haud infima ars in Principe, ubi lenitas, ubi severitas—plùs polleat in commune bonum callere. Clementia tutelat opima.
St. Nicolas. The lopping of trees makes the boughes shoote 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 cruell; to thinke then, how much he can save, when others tell him, how much he can destroy: not to consider, what the impotence of others hath demolish'd; but what his owne greatnesse can sustaine. There are a
Princes vertues; And they that give him other counsels, are but the
Hangmans Factors.
Hee that is cruell to halfes, (saith the said St.
Nicolas) looseth no lesse the opportunity of his cruelty, then of his benefits: For then to use his cruelty, is too late; and to use his favours will be interpreted feare and necessity; and so hee looseth the thankes. Still the counsell is cruelty. But
Princes by harkning to cruell 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 goe on, and defend cruelty with cruelty: they cannot alt
[...] the Habit. It is then growne necessary, they must be as ill, as those have made them: And in the end, they will grow more hatefull to themselves, then to their Subjects. Whereas, on the contrary, the mercifull
Prince is safe in love, not in feare. Hee needs no Emissaries, Spies, Intelligencers, to intrap true Subjects. Hee feares no Libels, no Treasons. His people speake, what they thinke; and talke openly, what they doe in secret. They have nothing in their brests, that they need a Cipher for. He is guarded with his owne benefits.
Religio. Palladium
Homeri.
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
Soveraigne to the Subject, then it. For hee that is religious,
[Page 107] must be mercifull and just necessarily. And they are too strong ties upon mankind. Justice is the vertue, that
Innocence rejoyceth in. Yet even that is not always so safe; but it may love to stand in the sight of mercy. For sometimes misfortune is made a crime, and then
Innocence is succor'd, no lesse then vertue. Nay, often times vertue is made Capitall: and through the condition of the times, it may happen, that that may be punish'd with our praise. Let no man therefore murmure at the Actions of the Prince, who is plac'd so farre above him. If hee 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 humane body.
Euripides. Tyranni.
There is nothing with some
Princes sacred above their Majesty; or prophane, but what violates their Scepters. But a Prince with such Counsell, is like the
God Terminus, of Stone, his owne Land-marke; or (as it is in the Fable) a crowned Lyon. It is dangerous offending such an one; who being angry, knowes not how to forgive. That cares not to doe any thing, for maintaining, or inlarging of
Empire; kils not men, or Subjects; but destroyeth whole Countries, Armies, mankind, male, and female; guilty or not guilty, holy or prophane: Yea, some that have not seene the light. All is under the Law of their spoyle, and licence. But
Princes that neglect their proper office thus, their fortune is often times to draw a
Scianus, to be neere about him;
Scianus. who will at last affect to get above' him, and put them in a worthy feare, of rooting both them out, and their family. For no men hate an evill
Prince more, then they, that help'd to make him such. And none more boastingly, weepe his ruine, then they, that procur'd and practis'd it. The same path leads to ruine, which did to rule, when men professe a
Licence in governing. A
good King is a publike Servant.
A Prince without Letters, is a Pilot without eyes.
Illiteratus Princeps. All his Government is groping. In
Soveraignity it is a most happy thing, not to be compelled; but so it is the most miserable not to be counsell'd. And how can he be counsell'd that cannot see to read the best Counsellors (which are books.) For they neither flatter us, nor hide from us? Hee may heare, you will say. But how shall he alwayes be sure to heare Truth? or be counsell'd the best things, not the sweetest? They say
Princes learne no Art truly, but the Art of
Horse-manship. The reason is, the brave beast is no flatterer. Hee will throw a
Prince, as soone, as his Groome. Which is an Argument, that the good Counsellors to Princes are the best instruments of a good Age. For though the
Prince himselfe be of most prompt inclination to to all vertue: Yet the best
Pilots have need of
Mariners, beside Sayles, Anchor, and other Tackle.
If men did know, what shining fetters, guilded miseries,
Character. Principis. and painted happinesse, Thrones and Scepters were. There would not bee so frequent strife about the getting, or holding of them. There would be more
Principalities, then
Princes. For a
Prince is the Pastor of the people. Hee ought to sheere, no to flea his sheepe; to take their fleeces, not their fels. Who were his enemies before, being a private man, become his children, now hee is publike. Hee is the
soule of the Common-wealth; and ought to cherish it, as his owne body.
Alexander the Great was wont to say:
Hee hated that Gardiner, that pluck'd his herbes,
Alexander magnus.
or flowers up by the roots. A man may milke a beast, till the blood come:
[Page 108] Churne milke, and it yeeldeth butter: but wring the nose, and the blood followeth. Hee is an ill
Prince, that so puls his Subjects feathers, as hee would not have them grow againe: that makes his
Exchequer a receipt for the spoyles of those hee governs. No, let him keepe his owne, not affect his Subjects: strive rather to be call'd just, then powerfull. Not, like the
Romans Tyrans, affect the Surnames that grow by humane slaughters: Neither to seeke warre in peace, or peace in warre; but to observe faith given, though to an Enemy. Study Piety toward the Subject: Shew care to defend him. Bee slow to punish in diverse cases; but be a sharpe, and severe Revenger of open crimes. Breake no decrees, or dissolve no orders, to slacken the strength of Lawes. Choose neither Magistrates
civill, or
Ecclesiastick, 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 counsell, and for reward; If hee doe acknowledge it, (though late) and mend it. For
Princes are easie to be deceiv'd. And what wisdome can escape it; 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 shunne, there will be requir'd of him a reckoning for those, whom hee hath trusted; as for himselfe, which hee must provide. And if
Piety be wanting in the
Priests, Equity in the Iudges, or the
Magistrate be found rated at a price; what Iustice or Religion is to be expected? which are the only two Attributes make
Kings a kinne to
Gods; and is the
Delphick sword, both to kill Sacrifices, and to chastise offenders.
De Gratiosis.
When a vertuous man is rais'd, it brings gladnesse to his friends: griefe to his enemies, and glory to his Posterity. Nay his honours are a great part of the honour of the times: when by this meanes he is growne to active men, an example; to the sloathfull, a spurre; to the envious, a Punishment.
Divites.
Hee, which is sole heire to many rich men, having (beside his Fathers, and Vncles) the states of diverse his kindred come to him by accession; must needs bee richer then Father, or
Gran-father: So they which are left heires
ex Asse,
Haeredes 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 theeves of a State are lightly the officers of the Crowne; they hang the lesse still; play the Pikes in the Pond; eate whom they list. The Net was never spread for the Hawke or Buzzard that hurt us, but the harmelesse birds, they are good meate.
Invenalis.
Dat veni am corvis, vexat censura columbas.
Plautus.
Non rete Accipitri tenditur, ne
(que) milvo.
But they are not alwayes safe, though especially, when they meet with wise Masters. They can take downe all the huffe, and swelling of their lookes; and like dexterous Auditors, place the Counter, where he shall value nothing.
Lewis xi. Let them but remember
Lewis the eleventh, who to a Clarke of the
Exchequer, that came to be Lord
Treasurer, and had (for his device) represented himselfe sitting upon fortunes wheele: told him, hee
[Page 109] might doe well to fasten it with a good strong nayle, lest turning about, it might bring him, where hee was againe. As indeed it did.
A good man will avoide the spot of any sinne.
De boni
[...] e
[...] malis. The very aspersion is grievous: which makes him choose his way in his life, as hee would in his journey. The
Ill-man rides through all confidently; hee is coated, and booted for it. The oftner hee offends, the more openly; and the fowler, the fitter in fashion. His modesty like a riding Coat, the more it is worne, is the lesse car'd for. It is good enough for the durt still; and the wayes he travels in.
An Innocent man needs no
Eloquence:
De Innocentiâ. his
Innocence is in stead of it: else I had never come off so many times from these
Precipices, whether mens malice hath pursued me. It is true, I have beene accus'd to the Lords, to the
King; and by great ones: but it hap'ned 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 entred so farre) to seeke starting holes for their rashnesse, which were not given them. And then they may thinke, what accusation that was like to prove, when they, that were the Ingineers, fear'd to be the Authors. Nor were they content, to faine things against mee, but to urge things fain'd by the Ignorant, against my profession; which though from their hired, and mercenary impudence, I might have past by, as granted to a Nation of Barkers, that let out their tongues to lick others sores; yet I durst not leave my selfe undefended, having a paire of eares unskilfull to heare lyes; 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 reade them, but as worthy of scorne. Nay, they would offer to urge mine owne Writings against me; but by pieces, (which was an excellent way of malice) as if any mans Context, might not seeme dangerous, and offensive, if that which was knit, to what went before, were defrauded of his beginning; or that things by themselves utter'd, might not seeme subject to Calumnie, which read entire, would appeare most free. At last they upbraided my poverty; I confesse, shee is my Domestick; sober of diet, simple of habit; frugall, painefull; a good Counsellers to me; that keepes me from Cruelty, Pride, or other more delicate impertinences; which are the Nurse-children of Riches. But let them looke over all the great, and monstruous wickednesses, they shall never find those in poore families. They are the issue of the wealthy
Giants, and the mighty Hunters: Whereas no great worke, or worthy of praise, or memory, but came out of poore cradles. It was the ancient poverty, that founded Common-weales; built Cities, invented Arts, made wholesome Lawes; armed men against vices; rewarded them with their owne vertues; and preserv'd the honour, and state of Nations, till they betray'd themselves to Riches.
Money never made any man rich, but his mind.
Amor nummi. He that can order himselfe to the Law of nature, is not onely without the sense, but the feare of poverty. O! but to strike blind the people with our wealth, and pompe, is the thing! what a wretchednesse is this, to thrust all our riches outward, and be beggars within: to contemplate nothing, but the little, vile, and fordid things of the world; not the great, noble, and pretious? wee serve our avarice, and not content with the good of the Earth, that
[Page 110] is offer'd us; wee search, and digge for the evill that is hidden.
God offer'd us those things, and plac'd them at hand, and neere us, that hee knew were profitable for us; but the hurtfull hee laid deepe, and hid. Yet doe wee seeke onely the things, whereby wee may perish; and bring them forth, when
God and nature hath buried them. Wee covet super-fluous things; when it were more honour for us, if wee could contemne necessary. What need hath nature of silver dishes, multitudes of Waiters, delicate Pages, perfum'd Napkins? She requires meat only, and hunger is not ambitious. Can wee thinke no wealth enough, but such a state, for which a man may be brought into a
Praemunire, beg'd, proscrib'd, or poyson'd? O! if a man could restraine the fury of his gullet, and groyne, and thinke how many fires, how many kitchins, Cookes, Pastures, and plough'd Lands; what Orchards, Stewes, Ponds, and Parkes, Coupes, and Garners he could spare: What Velvets, Tissues, Imbroderies, Laces he could lacke; and then how short, and uncertaine his life is; Hee were in a better way to happinesse, then to live the Emperour of these delights; and be the
Dictator of fashions? But wee make our selves slaves to our pleasures; and wee serve
Fame, and Ambition, which is an equall slavery. Have not I seen the pompe of a whole Kingdome, and what a forraigne King could bring hither. Also to make himselfe gaz'd, and wonder'd 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 houres, entertaine, and take up our whole lives? when even it appear'd as superfluous to the Possessors, as to me that was a Spectator. The bravery was shewne, it was not possess'd while it boasted it selfe, it perish'd. It is vile, and a poor thing to place our happinesse on these desires. Say we wanted them all.
Famine ends
famine.
De mollibus &
[...]ffaminatis.
There is nothing valiant, or solid to bee hop'd for from such, as are alwayes kempt'd, and perfum'd; and every day smell of the Taylor. 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 Mid-night, gumming, and bridling their beards, or making the waste small, binding it with hoopes, while the mind runs at waste: Too much pickednesse is not manly. Not from those that will jeast at their owne outward imperfections, but hide their ulcers within, their Pride, Lust, Envie, ill nature, with all the art and authority they can. These persons are in danger; For whilst they thinke to justifie their ignorance by impudence; and their persons by clothes, and outward ornaments, they use but a Commission to deceive themselves. Where, if wee will looke with our understanding, and not our senses, wee may behold vertue, and beauty, (though cover'd with rags) in their brightnesse; and vice, and deformity so much the fowler, in having all the splendor of riches to guild them, or the false light of honour and power to helpe them. Yet this is that, wherewith the world is taken, and runs mad to gaze on: Clothes and Titles, the Birdlime of
Fools.
De st
[...]lti
[...]id.
What petty things they are, wee wonder at? like children, that esteeme every trifle; and preferre a
Fairing before their Fathers: what difference is betweene us, and them? but that we are dearer Fooles, Cockscombes, at a higher rate. They are pleas'd with Cockleshels, Whistles, Hobby-horses, and such like: wee with Statues, marble
[Page 111] Pillars, Pictures, guilded Roofes, where under-neath is Lath, and Lyme; perhaps Lome. Yet, wee take pleasure in the lye, and are glad, wee can cousen our selves. Nor is it onely in our wals, and feelings; but all that wee call happinesse, is meere painting, and guilt: and all for money: what a thinne Membrane of honour that is? and how hath all true reputation falne, since money began to have any? yet the great heard, 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 stirre, and torment, then it is gotten.
Some men, what losses soever they have, they make them greater:
De sibi molestis. and if they have none, even all, that is not gotten, is a losse. Can there be creatures of more wretched condition, then these; that continually labour under their owne misery, and others envie? A man should study other things, not to covet, not to feare, not to repent him: To make his Base such, as no Tempest shall shake him: to be secure of all opinion; and pleasing to himselfe, even for that, wherein he displeaseth others. For the worst opinion gotten for doing well, should delight us: would'st not thou be just, but for fame; thou ought'st to be it with infamy: Hee that would have his vertue published, is not the servant of vertue, but glory.
It is a dangerous thing,
Periculosa Melancholia. when mens minds come to sojourne with their affections, and their diseases eate into their strength: that when too much desire, and greedinesse of vice, hath made the body unfit, or unprofitable; it is yet gladded with the sight, and spectacle of it in others: and for want of ability to be an Actor; is content to be a Witnesse. It enjoyes the pleasure of sinning, in beholding others sinne; as in Dicing, Drinking, Drabbing, &c. Nay, when it cannot doe all these, it is offended with his owne narrownesse, that excludes it from the universall delights of Man-kind; and oft times dies of a
Melancholy, that it cannot be vitious enough.
I am glad, when I see any man avoid the infamy of a vice;
Falsae species fugiendae. but to shun the vice it selfe were better. Till hee doe that, he is but like the Prentise, who being loth to bee spied by his Master, comming forth of
Black-Lucis, went in againe; to whom his Master cried; the more thou runnest that way to hide thyselfe, the more thou art in the Place. So are those, that keepe a Taverne all day; that they may not bee seene at night. I have knowne
Lawyers, Divines; yea, great ones of this Heresy.
There is a greater Reverence had of things remote, or strange to us,
Decipimur specie. then of much better, if they bee neerer, and fall under our sense. Men, and almost all sort of creatures, have their reputation by distance. Rivers, the farther they runne, and more from their spring, the broader, they are, and greater. And where our originall is knowne, we are the lesse confident: Among strangers wee trust fortune. Yet a man may live as renown'd at home, in his owne countrey, or a private Village, as in the whole world. For it is vertue that gives glory: That will endenizon a man every where. It is onely that can naturalize him. A native, if hee be vitious, deserves to bee a stranger, and cast out of the Common-wealth, as an Al
[...]en.
[Page 112]
Dejectio Aulic.
A dejected countenance, and meane clothes, beget often a contempt; but it is with the shallowest creatures:
Courtiers commonly looke up even with them in a new suite; you get above 'hem streight. Nothing is more short-liv'd then Pride: It is but while their clothes last; stay but while these are worne out, you cannot wish the thing more wretched, or dejected.
Poesis, et Pictura. Plutarch.
Poetry, and
Picture, are Arts of a like nature; and both are busie about imitation. It was excellently said of
Plutarch, Poetry was a speaking Picture, and
Picture a mute Poesie. For they both invent, faine, and devise many things, and accommodate all they invent to the use, and service of nature. Yet of the two, the Pen is more noble, then the Pencill. For that can speake to the Understanding; the other, but to the Sense. They both behold pleasure, and profit, as their common Object; but should abstaine from all base pleasures, lest they should erre from their end: and while they seeke to better mens minds, destroy their manners. They both are borne
Artificers, not made. Nature is more powerfull in them then study.
De Pictura.
Whosoever loves not
Picture, is injurious to Truth: and all the wisdome of
Poetry. Picture is the invention of Heaven: the most ancient, and most a kinne to Nature. It is it selfe a silent worke: and alwayes 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 orecomes the power of speech, and oratory. There are diverse graces in it; so are there in the Artificers. One excels in care, another in reason, a third in easinesse, a fourth in nature and grace. Some have diligence, and comelinesse: but they want Majesty. They can expresse a humane forme in all the graces, sweetnesse, and elegancy; but they misse the Authority. They can hit nothing but smooth cheeks; they cannot expresse roughnesse, or gravity. Others aspire to Truth so much, as they are rather Lovers of likenesse, then beauty.
Zeuxis, and
Parrhasius, are said to be contemporaries: The first, found out the reason of lights, and shadowes in Picture: the other, more subtily examined the lines.
De stylo. Pliny.
In Picture, light is requir'd no lesse then shadow: so in stile, height, as well as humblenesse. But beware they be not too humble; as
Pliny pronounc'd of
Regulus writings. You would thinke them written, not on a child, but by a child. Many, out of their owne obscene Apprehensions, refuse proper and fit words; as
occupie, nature, and the like: So the curious industry in some of having all alike good, hath come neerer a vice, then a vertue.
De progress. Picturae. Parrhasius.
Picture tooke her faining from
Poetry: from
Geometry her rule, compasse, lines, proportion, and the whole
Symmetry. Parrhasius was the first wan reputation, by adding
Symmetry to Picture: hee added subtilty to the countenance, elegancy to the haire, love-lines to the face; and, by the publike voice of all Artificers, deserved honour in the outer lines.
Eupompus gave it splendor by numbers,
Eupompus. and other elegancies. From the
Opticks it drew reasons; by which it considered, how things plac'd at distance, and a farre off, should appeare lesse: how above, or beneath the head, should deceive the eye, &c. So from thence it tooke shadowes, recessor, light, and heightnings. From morall
Philosophy it tooke the soule, the expression of Senses, Perturbations, Manners, when they
[Page 113] would paint an angry person, a proud, an inconstant, an ambitious, a brave, a magnanimous, a just, a mercifull, a compassionate, an humble, a dejected, a base, and the like. They made all heightnings bright, all shadowes darke, all swellings from a plane; all solids from breaking. See
Plin. lib. 35. c. 2.5.6
& 7.
Vitruv. li. 8.
& 7. where he complaines of their painting
Chimaera's, by the vulgar unaptly called
Grottesque: Saying, that men who were borne truly to study, and emulate nature, did nothing but make monsters against nature; which
Horat. in arte Poet.
Horace so laught at. The Art
Plasticke was moulding in clay, or potters earth anciently. This is the Parent of
Statuary sculpture,
Graving and
Picture; cutting in brasse, and marble, all serve under her.
Socrates. Parrhasius. Clyto.
Socrates taught
Parrhasius, and
Clito (two noble Statuaries) first to expresse manners by their looks in Imagery.
Polygnotus. Aglaophon
Polygnotus, and
Aglaophon were ancienter. After them
Zeuxis.
Zeuxis, who was the Law-giver to all Painters: after
Parrhasius.
Parrhasius. They were contemporaries, and liv'd both about
Philips time, the Father of
Alexander the Great. There liv'd in this latter Age six famous Painters in
Italy: who were excellent, and emulous of the Ancients:
Raphael
de urbino. Mich: Angel. Buonarota. Titian. Antonie
de Correg. Sebast:
de Venet. Iulio Romano. Andrea Sartorio.
Raphael de Vrbino, Michel Angelo Buonarota, Titian, Antonie of Correggio, Sebastian of Venice, Iulio Romano, and
Andrea Sartorio.
These are Flatterers for their bread, that praise all my oraculous Lord do's or sayes, be it true or false: invent tales that shall please: make baites for his Lordships eares: and if they be not receiv'd in what they offer at, they shift a point of the Compasse, and turne their tale presently tacke about; deny what they confest, and confesse what they denied; fit their discourse to the persons, and occasions. What they snatch up, and devoure at one table, utter at another: and grow suspected of the Master, hated of the servants, while they inquire, and reprehend, and compound, and delate busines of the house they have nothing to doe with: They praise my
Lords wine, and the sauce he likes; observe the Cooke, and Bottle-man, while they stand in my Lords favour, speake for a pension for them: but pound them to dust upon my Lords least distaste,
Parasiti ad mensam. or change of his palate.
How much better is it, to bee silent; or at least, to speake sparingly! For it is not enough to speake good, but timely things. If a man be asked a question, to answer, but to repeat the Question, before hee answer, is well, that hee be sure to understand it, to avoid absurdity. For it is lesse dishonour, to heare imperfectly, then to speake imperfectly. The eares are excus'd, the understanding is not. And in things unknown to a man, not to give his opinion, lest by affectation of knowing too much, hee lose the credit hee hath by speaking, or knowing the wrong way, what hee utters. Nor seeke to get his Patrons favour, by imbarking himselfe in the Factions of the Family: to inquire after domesticke 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 Swallowes, carry it to their nest (the Lords eares) and oftentimes report the lyes they have fain'd, for what they have seene and heard.
These are call'd instruments of grace, and power, with great persons;
Imò serviles. but they are indeed the Organs of their impotencie, and markes of weaknesse. For sufficient Lords are able to make these Discoveries themselves. Neither will an honourable person inquire, who eats, and
[Page 114] drinkes together, what that man playes, whom this man loves; with whom such a one walkes; what discourse they held, who sleepes, with whom. They are base, and servile natures, that busie themselves about these disquisitions. How often have I seene, (and worthily) these Censors of the family, undertaken by some honest
Rustick, and cudgel'd thriftily? These are commonly the off-scowring, and dregs of men, that doe these things, or calumniate others: Yet I know not truly which is worse; hee that malignes all, or that praises all. There is as great a vice in praising, and as frequent, as in detracting.
It pleas'd your Lordship of late, to aske my opinion, touching the education of your sonnes, and especially to the advancement of their studies. To which, though I return'd somewhat for the present; which rather manifested a will in me, then gave any just resolution to the thing propounded: I have upon better cogitation call'd those ayds about mee, both of mind, and memory; which shall venter my thoughts clearer, if not fuller, to your Lordships demand. I confesse, my Lord, they will seeme but petty, and minute things I shall offer to you, being writ for children, and of them. But studies have their Infancie, as well as creatures. Wee see in men, even the strongest compositions had their beginnings from milke, and the Cradle; and the wisest tarried sometimes about apting their mouthes to Letters, and syllables. In their education therefore, the care must be the greater had of their beginnings, to know, examine, and weigh their natures; which though they bee proner in some children to some disciplines; yet are they naturally prompt to taste all by degrees, and with change. For change is a kind of refreshing in studies, and infuseth knowledge by way of recreation. Thence the Schoole it selfe is call'd a Play, or Game: and all Letters are so best taught to Schollers. They should not be afrighted, or deterr'd in their Entry, but drawne on with exercise, and emulation. A youth should not be made to hate study, before hee know the causes to love it: or taste the bitternesse before the sweet; but call'd on, and allur'd, intreated, and praised: Yea, when hee deserves it not. For which cause I wish them sent to the best schoole, and a publike; which I thinke the best. Your Lordship I feare hardly heares of that, as willing to breed them in your eye, and at home; and doubting their manners may bee corrupted abroad. They are in more danger in your owne Family, among ill servants, (allowing, they be safe in their Schoole-Master) then amongst a thousand boyes, however immodest: would wee did not spoyle our owne children, and overthrow their manners our selves by too much Indulgence. To breed them at home, is to breed them in a shade; where in a schoole they have the light, and heate of the Sunne. They are us'd, and accustom'd to things, and men. When they come forth into the Common-wealth, they find nothing new, or to seeke. They have made their friendships and ayds; some to last till their Age. They heare what is commanded to others, as well as themselves. Much approv'd, much corrected; all which they bring to their owne store, and use; and learne as much, as they heare.
Eloquence would be but a poore thing, if wee should onely converse with singulars; speake, but man and man together. Therefore I like no private breeding. I would send them where their industry should be daily increas'd by praise; and that
[Page 115] kindled by emulation. It is a good thing to inflame the mind: And though Ambition it selfe be a vice, it is often the cause of great vertue. Give me that wit, whom praise excites, glory puts on, or disgrace grieves: hee is to bee nourish'd with Ambition, prick'd forward with honour; check'd with Reprehension; and never to bee suspected of sloath. Though hee be given to play, it is a signe of spirit, and livelinesse; so there be a meane had of their sports, and relaxations. And from the rodde, or ferule, I would have them free, as from the menace of them: for it is both deformed, and servile.
For a man to write well, there are required three Necessaries.
De stylo,
[...] optimo scribendi genere. To reade the best Authors, observe the best Speakers: and much exercise of his owne style. In style to consider, what ought to be written; and after what manner; Hee must first thinke, and excogitate his matter; then choose his words, and examine the weight of either. Then take care in placing, and ranking both matter, and words, that the composition becomely; and to doe this with diligence, and often. No matter how slow the style be at first, so it be labour'd, and accurate; seeke the best, and be not glad of the forward conceipts, or first words, that offer themselves to us, but judge of what wee invent; and order what wee approve. Repeat often, what wee have formerly written; which beside, that it helpes the consequence, and makes the juncture better, it quickens the heate of imagination, that often cooles in the time of setting downe, and gives it new strength, as if it grew lustier, by the going back. As wee see in the contention of leaping, they jumpe farthest, that fetch their race largest: or, as in throwing a Dart, or Iavelin, wee force back our armes, to make our loose the stronger. Yet, if we have a faire gale of wind, I forbid not the steering out of our fayle, so the favour of the gale deceive us not. For all that wee invent doth please us in the conception, or birth; else we would never set it downe. But the safest is to returne to our Judgement, and handle over againe those things, the easinesse of which might make them justly suspected. So did the best Writers in their beginnings; they impos'd upon themselves care, and industry. They did nothing rashly. They obtain'd first to write well, and then custome made it easie, and a habit. By little and little, their matter shew'd it selfe to 'hem more plentifully; their words answer'd, their composition followed; and all, as in a well order'd family, presented it selfe in the place. So that the summe of all is: Ready writing makes not good writing; but good writing brings on ready writing: Yet when wee thinke wee have got the faculty, it is even then good to resist it: as to give a Horse a check sometimes with bit, which doth not so much stop his course, as stirre his mettle. Againe, whether a mans
Genius is best able to reach thither, it should more and more contend, lift and dilate it selfe, 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 worke with their owne strength, to trust and endeavour by their owne faculties: so it is fit for the beginner, and learner, to study others, and the best. For the mind, and memory are more sharpely exercis'd in comprehending an other mans things, then our owne; and such as accustome themselves, and are familiar with the best Authors, shall ever and anon find somewhat of
[Page 116] them in themselves, and in the expression of their minds, even when they feele it not, be able to utter something like theirs, which hath an Authority above their owne. Nay, sometimes it is the reward of a mans study, the praise of quoting an other man fitly: And though a man be more prone, and able for one kind of writing, then another, yet hee must exercise all. For as in an Instrument, so in style, there must be a Harmonie, and consent of parts.
Precipiendi modi.I take this labour in teaching others, that they should not be alwayes to bee taught; and I would bring my Precepts into practise. For rules are ever of lesse force, and valew, then experiments. Yet with this purpose, rather to shew the right way to those that come after, then to detect any that have slipt before by errour, and I hope it will bee more profitable. For men doe more willingly listen, and with more favour to precept, then reprehension. Among diverse opinions of an Art, and most of them contrary in themselves, it is hard to make election; and therefore, though a man cannot invent new things after so many, he may doe a welcome worke yet to helpe posterity to judge rightly of the old. But Arts and Precepts availe nothing, except nature be beneficiall, and ayding. And therefore these things are no more written to a dull disposition, then rules of husbandry to a barren Soyle. No precepts will profit a Foole; no more then beauty will the blind, or musicke the deafe. As wee should take care, that our style in writing, be neither dry, nor empty: wee should looke againe it be not winding, or wanton with far-fetcht-descriptions; Either is a vice. But that is worse which proceeds out of want, then that which riots out of plenty. The remedy of fruitfulnesse is easie, but no labour will helpe the contrary; I will like, and praise some things in a young Writer; which yet if hee continue in, I cannot, but justly hate him for the same. There is a time to bee given all things for maturity; and that even your Countrey-husband-man can teach; who to a young plant will not put the proyning knife, because it seemes to feare the iron, as not able to admit the scarre. No more would I tell a greene Writer all his faults, lest I should make him grieve and faint, and at last despaire. For nothing doth more hurt, then to make him so afraid of all things, as hee can endeavour nothing. Therefore youth ought to be instructed betimes, and in the best things: for we hold those longest, wee take soonest. As the first sent of a Vessell lasts: and that tinct the wooll first receives. Therefore a Master should temper his owne powers, and descend to the others infirmity. If you powre a glut of water upon a Bottle, it receives little of it; but with a Funnell, and by degrees, you shall fill many of them, and spill little of your owne; to their capacity they will all receive, and be full. And as it is fit to rende the best Authors to youth first, so let them be of the openest, and clearest.
Livy. Salust. Sydney. Donne. Gower. Chaucer. As
Livy before
Salust, Sydney before
Donne: and beware of letting them taste
Gower, or
Chaucer at first, lest falling too much in love with Antiquity, and not apprehending the weight, they grow rough and barren in language onely. When their judgements are firme, and out of danger, let them reade both, the old and the new: but no lesse take heed, that their new flowers, and sweetnesse doe not as much corrupt, as the others drinesse,
Spencer. and squallor, if they choose not carefully.
Spencer, in affecting the Ancients writ no Language: Yet I would have
[Page 117] him read for his matter; but as
Virgil read
Eunius.
Virgil. Ennius. Homer. Virgil. Quintilian. The reading of
Homer and
Virgil is counsell'd by
Quintilian, as the best way of informing youth, and confirming man. For besides that, the mind is rais'd with the height, and sublimity of such a verse, it takes spirit from the greatnesse of the matter, and is tincted with the best things.
Tragicke, and
Liricke Poetry is good too: and
Comicke with the best, if the manners of the Reader be once in safety. In the
Greeke Poets,
Plautus. Terence. as also in
Plautus, wee shall see the Oeconomy, and disposition of
Poems, better observed then in
Terence, and the later: who thought the sole grace, and vertue of their Fable, the sticking in of sentences, as ours doe the forcing in of jests.
Wee should not protect our sloath with the patronage of difficulty.
Ials. querel. fugien
[...]. It is a false quarrell against nature, that shee helpes understanding; but in a few, when the most part of mankind are inclin'd by her thither, if they would take the paines; no lesse then birds to fly, horses to run, &c. Which if they lose, it is through their owne sluggishnesse, and by that meanes become her prodigies, not her children I confesse, nature in children is more patient of labour in study, then in Age; for the sense of the paine, the judgement of the labour is absent, they doe not measure what they have done. And it is the thought, and consideration,
Platonis. Peregrinatio in Italiam. that affects us more, then the wearinesse it selfe.
Plato was not content with the Learning, that
Athens could give him, but sail'd into
Italy for
Pythagora's knowledge: And yet not thinking himselfe sufficiently inform'd, went into
Egypt to the Priests, and learned their mysteries. Hee labour'd, so must wee. Many things may be learn'd together, and perform'd in one point of time; as Musicians exercise their memory, their voice, their fingers, and sometime their head, and feet at once. And so a Preacher in the invention of matter, election of words, composition of gesture, looke, pronunciation, motion, useth all these faculties at once. And if wee can expresse this variety together, why should not diverse studies, at diverse houres delight, when the variety is able alone to refresh, and repaire us? As when a man is weary of writing, to reade; and then againe of reading, to write. Wherein, howsoever wee doe many things, yet are wee (in a sort) still fresh to what wee begin: wee are recreated with change, as the stomacke is with meats. But some will say, this variety breeds confusion, and makes, that either wee loose all, or hold no more then the last. Why doe wee not then perswade husbandmen, that they should not till Land, helpe it with Marle, Lyme, and Compost? plant Hop-gardens, prune trees, looke to Bee-hives, reare sheepe, and all other Cattell at once? It is easier to doe many things, and continue, then to doe one thing long.
Praecept. Element.
It is not the passing through these Learnings that hurts us, but the dwelling and sticking about them. To descend to those extreame anxieties, and foolish cavils of
Grammarians, is able to breake a wit in pieces; being a worke of manifold misery, and vainenesse, to bee
Elementarij senes. Yet even Letters are as it were the Banke of words, and restore themselves to an Author, as the pawnes of Language: But talking and Eloquence are not the same: to speake, and to speake well, are two things. A foole may talke, but a wise man speakes, and out of the observation, knowledge, and use of things. Many Writers perplexe their
[Page 118] Readers, and Hearers with meere
Non-sense. Their writings need sunshine. Pure and neat Language I love, yet plaine and customary. A barbarous Phrase hath often made mee out of love with a good sense; and doubtfull writing hath wrackt mee beyond my patience. The reason why a
Poet is said, that hee ought to have all knowledges, is that hee should not be ignorant of the most, especially of those hee will handle. And indeed when the attaining of them is possible, it were a sluggish, and base thing to despaire. For frequent imitation of any thing, becomes a habit quickly. If a man should prosecute as much, as could be said of every thing; his worke would find no end.
De orationis. dignitate.
Speech is the only benefit, man hath to expresse his excellencie of mind above other creatures. It is the Instrument of
Society. Therefore
Mercury, who is the President of Language, is called
Deorum hominum
(que) interpres. In all speech, words and sense, are as the body, and the soule. The sense is, as the life and soule of Language, without which all words are dead. Sense is wrought out of experience, the knowledge of humane life, and actions, or of the liberall Arts, which the
Greeks call'd
[...].
[...].
Iulius Caesar. Of words see Hor. de Art. Poetie. Quintil. l.
8. Ludov. Vives, pag.
6. &
7. Metaphora. Words are the Peoples; yet there is a choise of them to be made. For
Verborum delectus, origo est eloquentiae. They are to be chose according to the persons wee make speake, or the things wee speake of. Some are of the Campe, some of the Councell-board, some of the Shop, some of the Sheepe-coat, some of the Pulpit, some of the Barre, &c. And herein is seene their Elegance, and Propriety, when wee use them fitly, and draw them forth to their just strength and nature, by way of Translation, or
Metaphore. But in this Translation wee must only serve necessity
(Nam temerè nihil transfertur à prudenti) or commodity, which is a kind of necessity; that is, when wee either absolutely want a word to expresse by, and that is necessity; or when wee have not so fit a word, and that is commodity. As when wee avoid losse by it, and escape obscenenesse, and gaine in the grace and property, which helpes significance.
Metaphors farfet hinder to be understood, and affected, lose their grace. Or when the person fetcheth his translations from a wrong place. As if a Privie-Counsellor should at the Table take his
Metaphore from a Dicing-house, or Ordinary, or a Vintners Vault; or a Justice of Peace draw his similitudes from the
Mathematicks; or a
Divine from a Bawdy-house, or Tavernes; or a Gentleman of
Northampton-shire, Warwick-shire, or the
Mid-land, should fetch all his Illustrations to his countrey neighbours from shipping, and tell them of the maine
sheat, and the Boulin.
Metaphors are thus many times deform'd, as in him that said,
Castratam morte Aphricani Rempublicam. And an othet,
stercus curiae Glanciam. And
Canâ nive conspuit Alpes. All attempts that are new in this kind, are dangerous, and somewhat hard, before they be softned with use. A man coynes not a new word without some perill, and lesse fruit; for if it happen to be received, the praise is but moderate; if refus'd, the scorne is assur'd. Yet wee must adventure, for things at first, hard and rough, are by use made tender and gentle. It is an honest errour that is committed, following great
Chiefes.
Consuetudo.
Custome is the most certaine Mistresse of Language, as the publicke stampe makes the current money. But wee must not be too frequent with the mint, every day coyning. Nor fetch words from
[Page 119] the extreme and utmost ages;
Perspicuita
[...] Venustas. since the chiefe vertue of a style is perspicuitie, and nothing so vitious in it, as to need an Interpreter. Words borrow'd of Antiquity, doe lend a kind of Majesty to style,
Authoritat. and are not without their delight sometimes. For they have the Authority of yeares, and out of their intermission doe win to themselves a kind of grace-like newnesse. But the eldest of the present, and newnesse of the past Language is the best. For what was the ancient Language, which some men so doate upon, but the ancient Custome? Yet when I name Custome, I understand not the vulgar Custome: For that were a precept no lesse dangerous to Language, then life, if wee should speake or live after the manners of the vulgar: But that I call Custome of speech, which is the consent of the Learned; as Custome of life, which is the consent of the good.
Virgill was most loving of Antiquity;
Virgil. Lucretius.
Chaucerisme. yet how rarely doth hee insert
aquai, and
pictai! Lucretius is scabrous and rough in these; hee seekes 'hem: As some doe
Chaucerismes with us, which were better expung'd and banish'd. Some words are to be cull'd out for ornament and colour, as wee gather flowers to straw houses, or make Garlands; but they are better when they grow to our style; as in a Meadow, where though the meere grasse and greennesse delights; yet the variety of flowers doth heighten and beautifie. Marry we must not play, or riot too much with them, as in
Paranomasies: Nor use too swelling,
Paranomasia. or ill-sounding words;
Quae per salebras, alta
(que) saxa cadunt. It is true, there is no sound but shall find some Lovers, as the bitter'st confections are gratefull to some palats. Our composition must bee more accurate in the beginning and end, then in the midst; and in the end more, then in the beginning; for through the midst the streame beares us. And this is attain'd by Custome more then care, or diligence. Wee must expresse readily, and fully, not profusely. There is difference betweene a liberall, and a prodigall hand. As it is a great point of Art, when our matter requires it, to enlarge, and veere out all sayle; so to take it in, and contract it, is of no lesse praise when the Argument doth aske it. Either of them hath their fitnesse in the place. A good man alwayes profits by his endeavour, by his helpe; yea, when he is absent; nay when he is dead by his example and memory. So good Authors in their style:
De stylo. A strict and succinct style is that, where you can take away nothing without losse, and that losse to be manifest. The briefe style is that which expresseth much in little.
Tacitus.
The Laconicke. Suetonius. Seneca
& Fabianus. The concise style, which expresseth not enough, but leaves somewhat to bee understood. The abrupt style, which hath many breaches, and doth not seeme to end, but fall. The congruent, and harmonious fitting of parts in a sentence, hath almost the fastning, and force of knitting, and connexion: As in stones well squar'd, which will rise strong a great way without mortar. Periods are beautifull;
Periodi. when they are not too long; for so they have their strength too, as in a Pike or Javelin. As wee must take the care that our words and sense bee cleare; so if the obscurity happen through the Hearers, or Readers want of understanding, I am not to answer for them; no more then for their not listning or marking; I must neither find them eares, nor mind. But a man cannot put a word so in sense, but some thing about it will illustrate it, if the Writer understand himselfe. For Order helpes much to Perspicuity, as Confusion hurts.
[Page 120]
Rectitudo lucem adfert; obliquitas et circumductio offuscat. We should therefore speake what wee can, the neerest way, so as wee keepe our gate, not leape; for too short may as well be not let into the memory, as too long not kept in. Whatsoever looseth the grace. and clearenesse, converts into a Riddle;
Obscuritas
[...]ffundit te
[...]ebras. the obscurity is mark'd, but not the valew. That perisheth, and is past by, like the Pearle in the Fable. Our style should be like a skeine of silke to be carried, and found by the right thred, not ravel'd, and perplex'd;
Superlatio. then all is a knot, a heape. There are words, that doe as much raise a style, as others can depresse it. Superlation, and over-muchnesse amplifies. It may be above faith, but never above a meane. It was ridiculous in
Cestius,
Cestius. when hee said of
Alexander:
Fremit Oceanus, quasi indignetur, quòd terras relinquas;
Virgil.But propitiously from
Virgil:—Crea
[...]innate reuulsas Cycladas. Hee doth not say it was so, but seem
[...]o be so. Although it be somewhat incredible, that is excus'd before it be spoken. But there are
Hyperboles, which will become one Language, that will by no meanes admit another.
Caesar comment: circa fin.
Quintilian. As
Eos esse P. R.
exercitus, qui coelum possint perrumpere: who would say this with us, but a mad man? Therefore wee must consider in every tongue what is us'd, what receiv'd.
Quintilian warnes us, that in no kind of Translation, or
Metaphore, or
Allegory, wee make a turne from what wee began; As if wee fetch the originall of our
Metaphore from sea, and billowes; wee end not in flames and ashes; It is a most fowle inconsequence. Neither must wee draw out our
Allegory too long, lest either wee make our selves obscure, or fall into affectation, which is childish. But why doe men depart at all from the right, and naturall wayes of speaking? Sometimes for necessity, when wee are driven, or thinke it fitter to speake that in obscure words, or by circumstance, which utter'd plainely would offend the hearers. Or to avoid obscenenesse, or sometimes for pleasure, and variety; as Travailers turne out of the high way, drawne, either by the commodity of a foot-path, or the delicacy, or freshnesse of the fields. And all this is call'd
[...], or figur'd Language.
Oratio imago animi.
Language most shewes a man: speake 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 glasse renders a mans forme, or likenesse, so true as his speech. Nay, it is likened to a man; and as we consider feature,
Structura, & statura. Sublimis Humilis pumila. and composition in a man; so words in Language: in the greatnesse, aptnesse, sound, structure, and harmony of it. Some men are tall, and bigge, so some Language is high and great. Then the words are chosen, their sound ample, the composition full, the absolution plenteous, and powr'd out, all grave, sinne wye and strong. Some are little, and Dwarfes: so of speech it is humble, and low, the words poore and flat;
Mediocris Plana & placida. Vit iosa oratio, vasta. Tumens. Enormis. Affectata. Abjecta. the members and
Periods, thinne and weake without knitting, or number. The middle are of a just stature. There the Language is plaine, and pleasing: even without stopping, round without swelling; all well-torn'd, compos'd, elegant, and accurate. The vitious Language is vast, and gaping, swelling, and irregular; when it contends to be high, full of Rocke, Mountaine, and pointednesse: As it affects to be low, it is abject, and creeps, full of bogs, and holes. And according to their Subject, these stiles vary, and lose their names: For that which is high and lofty,
[Page 121] declaring excellent matter, becomes vast and tumorous: Speaking of petty and inferiour things: so that which was even, and apt in a meane and plaine subject, will appeare most poore and humble in a high Argument. Would you not laugh, to meet a great Counsellor of state in a flat cap, with his trunck hose, and a hobby-horse Cloake, his Gloves under his girdle, and yond Haberdasher in a velvet Gowne, furr'd with fables? There is a certaine latitude in these things, by which wee find the degrees. The next thing to the stature, is the figure and feature in Language: that is, whether it be round, and streight,
Figura. which consists of short and succinct
Periods, numerous, and polish'd, or square and firme; which is to have equall and strong patts, every where answerable, and weighed.
Cutis five Cortex. Compositio. The third is the skinne, and coat, which rests in the well-joyning, cementing, and coagmentation of wor
[...]; when as it is smooth, gentle, and sweet; like a Table, upon which you may runne your finger without rubs, and your nayle cannot find a joynt; not horrid, rough, wrinckled, gaping, or chapt: After these the flesh, blood, and bones come in question. Wee say it is a fleshy style, when there is much
Periphrases,
Carnosa. Adipata. and circuit of words; and when with more then enough, it growes fat and corpulent;
Arvina orationis, full of suet and tallow. It hath blood, and juyce, when the words are proper and apt, their sound sweet, and the
Phrase neat and pick'd.
Oratio uncta, & bene pasta. But where there is Redundancy, both the blood and juyce are faulty, and vitious.
Redundans.
Redundat sanguine, quâ multò plus dicit, quàm necesse est. Juyce in Language is somewhat lesse then blood; for if the words be but becomming, and signifying, and the sense gentle, there is Juyce: but where that wanteth, the Language is thinne, fl
[...]gging, poore, starv'd; scarce covering the bone,
Iejuna macilenta, strigosa. and shewes like stones in a sack. Some men to avoid Redundancy, runne into that; and while they strive to have no ill blood, or Juyce, they loose their good. There be some styles againe, that have not lesse blood,
Ossia, & nervosa. but lesse flesh, and corpulence. These are bony, and sinnewy:
Ossa habent, et nervos.
It was well noted by the late L. St.
Alban,
Notae Domini St.
Albani de doctrin; intemper. Dictator.
Aristoreles. that the study of words is the first distemper of Learning: Vaine matter the second: And a third distemper is deceit, or the likenesse of truth. Imposture held up by credulity. All these are the Cobwebs of Learning, and to let them grow in us, is either sluttish or foolish. Nothing is more ridiculous, then to make an Author a
Dictator, as the schooles have done
Aristotle. The dammage is infinite, knowledge receives by it. For to many things a man should owe but a temporary beliefe, and a suspension of his owne Judgement, not an absolute resignation of himselfe, or a perpetuall captivity. Let
Aristotle, and others have their dues; but if wee can make farther Discoveries of truth and fitnesse then they, why are we envied? Let us beware, while wee strive to adde, wee doe not diminish, or deface; wee may improve, but not augment, By discrediting falshood, Truth growes in request. Wee must not goe about like men anguish'd, and perplex'd, for vitious affectation of praise: but calmely study the separation of opinions, find the errours have intervened, awake Antiquity, call former times into question; but make no parties with the present, nor follow any fierce undertakers, mingle no matter of doubtfull credit, with the simplicity of truth, but gently stirre the mould about
[Page 122] the root of the Question, and avoid all digladiations, facility of credit, or superstitious simplicity; seeke the consonancy, and concatenation of Truth; stoope only to point of necessity; and what leads to convenience. Then make exact animadversion where style hath degenerated, where flourish'd, and thriv'd in choisenesse of Phrase, round and cleane composition of sentence, sweet falling of the clause, varying an illustration by tropes and figures, weight of Matter, worth of Subject, soundnesse of Argument, life of Invention, and depth of Judgement. This is
Monte potiri, to get the hill. For no perfect Discovery can bee made upon a flat or a levell.
De optimo scriptore.
Now, that I have informed you in the knowing these things; let mee leade you by the hand a little farther, in the direction of the use; and make you an able Writer by practice. The conceits of the mind are Pictures of things, and the tongue is the Interpreter of those Pictures. The order of Gods 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 hee said,
Dicere rectè nemo potest,
Cicero.
nisi qui prudenter intelligit. The shame of speaking unskilfully were small, if the tongue onely thereby were disgrac'd: But as the Image of a
King, in his Scale ill-represented, is not so much a blemish to the waxe, or the Signet that seal'd 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 doe jarre; nor his reason in frame, whose sentence is preposterous; nor his Elocution cleare and perfect, whose utterance breakes it selfe into fragments and uncertainties: Were it not a dishonour to a mighty Prince, to have the Majesty of his embassage spoyled by a carelesse Ambassadour? and is it not as great an Indignity, that an excellent conceit and capacity, by the indiligence of an idle tongue should be disgrac'd? Negligent speech doth not onely discredit the person of the Speaker, but it discrediteth the opinion of his reason and judgement; 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 looke for wit from him, whose leasure and head, assisted with the examination of his eyes, yeeld you no life, or sharpenesse 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 busines; whereof there can bee no rules of more certainty, or precepts of better direction given, then conjecture can lay downe, from the severall occasions of mens particular lives, and vocations: But sometimes men make basenesse of kindnesse: As
(I could not satisfie my selfe, till I had discharged my remembrance, and charged my Letters with commendations to you.) Or,
[My busines is no other, then to testifie my love to you, and to put you in mind of my willingnesse to doe you all kind offices.] Or,
[Sir, have you leasure to descend to the remembring of that assurance you have long possest in your servant; and upon your next opportunity, make him happy with some commands from you?] Or, the like; that goe a
[Page 123] begging for some meaning, and labour to be deliver'd of the great burthen of nothing. When you have invented, and that your busines bee matter, and not bare forme, or meere Ceremony, but some earnest: then are you to proceed to the ordering of it, and digesting the parts, which is had out of two circumstances. One is the understanding of the Persons, to whom you are to write; the other is the coherence of your Sentence. For mens capacity to weigh, what will be apprehended with greatest attention, or leisure; what next regarded, and long'd for especially; and what last will leave satisfaction, and (as it were) the sweetest memoriall, and beliefe of all that is past in his understanding, whom you write to. For the consequence of Sentences, you must bee sure, that every clause doe give the Q. one to the other, and be bespoken ere it come. So much for
Invention and
order. Now for fashion it consists in foure things, which are Qualities of your style. The first is
Brevity. For they must not be Treatises, or Discourses (your Letters) except it be to learned men. And even among them, there is a kind of thrift, and saving of words. Therefore you are to examine the clearest passages of your understanding, and through them to convey the sweetest, and most significant words you can devise; that you may the easier teach them the readiest way to an other mans apprehension, and open their meaning fully, roundly, and distinctly. So as the Reader may not thinke a second view cast away upon your letter. And though respect bee 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 taske to his braine) venter on a knot. But if to your Superior, you are bound to measure him in three farther points: First, your interest in him: Secondly, his capacity in your Letters: Thirdly, his leasure to peruse them. For your interest, or favour with him, you are to bee the shorter, or longer, more familiar, or submisse, as hee will afford you time. For his capacity you are to be quicker, and fuller of those reaches, and glances of wit, or learning, as hee is able to entertaine them. For his leasure, you are commanded to the greater briefnesse, as his place is of greater discharges, and cares. But with your betters, you are not to put Riddles of wit, by being too scarse of words: not to cause the trouble of making
Breviates, by writing too riotous, and wastingly.
Brevity is attained in matter, by avoiding idle Complements, Prefaces, Protestations, Parentheses, superfluous circuit of figures, and digressions: In the composition, by omitting Conjunctions,
[Not onely; But
Also] Both the one, and the other, whereby it commeth to passe] and such like idle Particles, that have no great busines in a serious Letter, but breaking of sentences; as often timts a short journey is made long, by unnecessary baits.
But as
Quintilian saith, there is a briefnesse of the parts sometimes,
Quintilian. that makes the whole long, as I came to the staires, I tooke a paire of oares, they launch'd out, rowed a pace, I landed at the Court-gate, I paid my fayre, went up to the Presence, ask'd for my Lord, I was admitted. All this is, but I went to the Court, and speake with my Lord. This is the fault of some Latine Writers, within these last hundred years, of my reading, and perhaps
Seneca may be appeacht of it;
2.
Perspicutas. I accuse him not. The next property of
Epistolarie style is
Perspicuity, and is often
[Page 124] times by affectation of some wit ill angled for, or oftentation of some hidden termes of Art. Few words they darken speech, and so doe too many: as well too much light hurteth the eyes, as too little; and a long Bill of
Chancery confounds the understanding, as much as the shortest note. Therefore, let not your Letters be penn'd like English Statutes, and this is obtain'd. These vices are eschewed by pondering your busines well, and distinctly concerning your selfe, which is much furthered by uttering your thoughts, and letting them as well come forth to the light, and Judgement of your owne outward senses, as to the censure of other mens eares: For that is the reason, why many good Schollers speake but fumblingly; like a rich man, that for want of particular note and difference, can bring you no certaine ware readily out of his shop. Hence it is, that talkative shallow men doe often content the Hearers, more then the wise. But this may find a speedier redresse 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 bee in the better hope of doing reasonably well. Vnder this vertue may come Plainenesse, which is not to be curious in the order, as to answer a letter, as if you were to answer to Intergatories. As to the first, first; and to the second, secondly, &c. But both in method to use (as Ladies doe in their attyre) a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive freedome; 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 yeeld a pleasure to the conceit of the Reader. There must bee store, though no excesse of termes; as if you are to name
Store, sometimes you may call it choyse, sometimes plenty; sometimes copiousnesse, or variety: but ever so, that the word which comes in lieu, have not such difference of meaning, as that it may put the sense of the first in hazard to be mistaken. You are not to cast a Ring for the perfumed termes of the time, as
Accommodation, Complement, Spirit, &c. But use them properly in their place,
3.
Vigor. as others. There followeth
Life, and
Quicknesse, which is the strength and sinnewes (as it were) of your penning by pretty Sayings, Similitudes, and Conceits, Allusions, some knowne History, or other common place, such as are in the Courtier, and the second booke of
Cicero de oratore.
4.
Discretio The last is; Respect to discerne, what fits your selfe; 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 ripenesse of judgement, which as one truly saith, is gotten by foure meanes,
God, Nature, Diligence, and
Conversation. Serve the first well, and the rest will serve you.
We have spoken sufficiently of Oratory; let us now make a diversion to
Poetry.
De Poetica.
Poetry in the Primogeniture had many peccant humours, and is made to have more now, through the Levity, and inconstancie of mens Judgements. Whereas indeed, it is the most prevailing Eloquence, and of the most exalted
Charact. Now the discredits and disgraces are many it hath receiv'd, through mens study of Depravation or Calumny: their practise being to give it diminution of Credit, by lessening the Professors estimation, and making the Age afraid of their Liberty: And the Age is growne so tender of her fame, as she cals all writings
Aspersions.
[Page 125]That is the State-word, the Phrase of Court,
(Placentia Colledge) which some call
Parasites Place, the Inne of
Ignorance.
Whilst I name no persons, but deride follies; why should any man confesse, or betray himselfe?
D. Hieronimus. why doth not that of S.
Hierome come into their minde;
Vbi generalis est de vitiis disputatio, ibi nullius esse personae injuriam? It is such an inexpiable crime in
Poets, to taxe vices generally; and no offence in them who, by their exception, confesse they have committed them particularly. Are wee fal'ne into those times that wee must not
‘Auriculas tener as mordaci rodere vero?
Pers. Sat.
1. Livius.’
Remedii votum semper verius erat, quàm spes. If men may by no meanes write freely, or speake truth, but when it offends not; why doe
Physicians cure with sharpe medicines, or corrosives? Is not the same equally lawfull in the cure of the minde, that is in the cure of the body? Some vices, (you will say) are soe foule, that it is better they should bee done, then spoken. But they that take offence where no Name, Character, or Signature doth blazon them, seeme to mee like affected as woemen; who,
Sexus foemin': if they heare any thing ill spoken of the ill of their Sexe, are presently mov'd
[...] the contumely respected their particular: and, on the contrary, when they heare good of good woemen, conclude, that it belongs to them all. If I see any thing that toucheth mee, shall I come forth a betraier of my selfe, presently? No; if I be wise i'le dissemble it; if honest, i'le avoid it: lest I publish that on my owne forehead, which I saw there noted without a title. A man, that is on the mending hand, will either ingeniously confesse, or wisely dissemble his disease. And, the wise, and vertuous, will never thinke any thing belongs to themselves that is written, but rejoyce that the good are warn'd not to bee such; and the ill to leave to bee such. The Person offended hath no reason to bee offended with the writer, but with himselfe; and so to declare that properly to belong to him, which was so spoken of all men, as it could bee no mans severall but his that would willfully and desperately clayme it. It sufficeth I know, what kinde of persons I displease, men bred in the declining, and decay of vertue, betroth'd to their owne vices; that have abandoned, or prostituted their good names; hungry and ambitious of infamy, invested in all deformity, enthrall'd to ignorance and malice, of a hidden and conceal'd malignitie, and that hold a concomitancy with all evill.
What is a Poet?
A Poet is that, which by the
Greeks is call'd
[...], a Maker, or a fainer: His Art, an Art of imitation, or faining;
Poeta. expressing the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony, according to
Aristotle: From the word
[...], which signifies to make or fayne. Hence, hee is call'd a
Poet, not hee which writeth in measure only; but that fayneth and formeth a fable, and writes things like the Truth. For, the Fable and Fiction is (as it were) the forme and Soule of any Poeticall worke, or
Poeme.
What meane you by a Poeme?
A Poeme is not alone any worke, or composition of the Poets in many,
Poema. Virgilius. Aeneid. lib.
3. Martial. lib.
8. epi
[...].
19. or few verses; but even one alone verse sometimes makes a perfect
Poeme. As, when
Aeneas hangs up, and consecrates the Armes of
Abas, with this Inscription;
‘Aeneas haec de Danais victoribus arma.’ And calls it a
Poeme, or
Carmen. Such are those in
Martiall.
Omnia, Castor, emis: sic fiet, ut omnia vendas.
And,
Pauper videri Cinna vult, & est pauper.
Horatius. Lucretius.So were
Horace his
Odes call'd,
Carmina; his
Lirik, Songs. And
Lucretius designes a whole booke, in his sixt:
‘Quod in primo quoque carmine claret.’ And anciently,
Epicum. Dramaticum. Liricum. Elegiacum. Epigramat. Poesis. all the Oracles were call'd,
Carmina; or, what ever Sentence was express'd, were it much, or little, it was call'd, an
Epick, Dramatick, Lirike, Elegiake, or
Epigrammatike Poeme
‘But, how differs a Poeme from what wee call Poesy?’
A Poeme, as I have told you is the worke of the Poet; the end, and fruit of his labour, and studye.
Poesy is his skill, or Crafte of making: the very Fiction it selfe, the reason, or forme of the worke. And these three voices differ, as the thing done, the doing, and the doer; the thing fain'd, the faining, and the fainer: so the
Poeme, the
Poesy, and the
Poet. Now, the
Poesy is the habit,
Artium Regina. or the Art: nay, rather the Queene of Arts: which had her Originall from heaven, received thence from the
'Ebrewes, and had in prime estimation with the
Greeks, transmitted to the
Latines, and all Nations, that profess'd Civility.
Aristotle. The Study of it (if wee will trust
Aristotle) offers to mankinde a certaine rule, and Patterne of living well, and happily; disposing us to all Civill offices of Society.
M.T. Cicero. If wee will beleive
Tully, it nourisheth, and instructeth our Youth; delights our Age; adornes our prosperity; comforts our Adversity; entertaines us at home; keepes us company abroad, travailes with us; watches; devides 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 Mistresse of manners; and neerest of kin to Vertue. And, wheras they entitle
Philosophy to bee a rigid, and austere
Poesie: they have (on the contrary) stiled
Poesy, a dulcet, and gentle
Philosophy, which leades on, and guides us by the hand to Action, with a ravishing delight, and incredible Sweetnes. But, before wee handle the kindes of
Poems, with their speciall differences;
Poet: differentiae. Grammatica. Logic. Rhetoric. Ethica.
1. Ingenium. or make court to the Art it selfe, as a Mistresse, I would leade you to the knowledge of our
Poet, by a perfect Information, what he is, or should bee by nature, by exercise, by imitation, by Studie; and so bring him downe through the disciplines of
Grammar, Logicke, Rhetoricke, and the
Ethicks, adding somewhat, out of all, peculiar to himselfe, and worthy of your Admittance, or reception.
First, wee require in our
Poet, or maker, (for that Title our Language affordes him, elegantly, with the
Greeke) a goodnes of naturall wit. For, wheras all other Arts consist of Doctrine, and Precepts: the
Poet must bee able by nature, and instinct, to powre out the Treasure of his minde; and, as
Seneca saith,
Seneca.
Aliquando secundum Anacreontem insanire, jucundum esse: by which hee understands, the
Poeticall Rapture. And according to that of
Plato; Frustrà Poetio as fores sui compos pulsavit:
Plato. Aristotle. And of
Aristole; Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ dementiae fuit. Nec potest grande aliquid, & supra caeteros loqui, nisi mota mens. Then it riseth higher, as by a devine Instinct, when it contemnes common, and knowne conceptions. It utters somewhat above a mortall mouth.
Helicon. Pegasus. Parnassus. Ovidius. Then it gets a lost, and flies away with his Ryder, whether, before, it was doubtfull to ascend. This the
Poets understood by their
Helicon, Pegasus, or
Parnassus; and this made
Ovid to boast:
Est, Deus in nobis; agitante calescimus illo:
Sedibus aethereis spiritus ille venit.
And
Lipsius,
Lipsius. to affirme;
Scio, Poetam neminem praestantem fuisse, sine parte quadam uberiore divinae aurae. And, hence it is, that the comming up of good Poets,
[Page 127] (for I minde not
mediocres, or
imos) is so thinne and rare among us; Every beggerly Corporation affoords the State a
Major, or two
Bailiffs, yearly: but,
solus Rex, aut Poeta, non quotannis nascitur.
Petron. in fragm.
2. Exercitatio. To this perfection of Nature in our
Poet, wee require Exercise of those parts, and frequent. If his wit will not arrive soddainly at the dignitie of the Ancients, let him not yet fall out with it, quarrell, or be over hastily Angry: offer, to turne it away from Study, in a humor; but come to it againe upon better cogitation; try an other time, with labour. If then it succeed not cast not away the Quills, yet: nor scratch the Wainescott, beate not the poore Deske; but bring all to the forge, and file, againe; tourne it a newe. There is no Statute
Law of the Kingdome bidds you bee a Poet, against your will; or the first Quarter. If it come, in a yeare, or two, it is well. The common Rymers powre forth Verses, such as they are,
(ex tempore) but there never come from them one Sense, worth the life of a Day. A Rymer, and a
Poet, are two things. It is said of the incomparable
Virgil, that he brought forth his verses like a Beare,
Virgill. Scaliger. and after form'd them with licking.
Scaliger, the Father, writes it of him, that he made a quantitie of verses in the morning, which a fore night hee reduced to a lesse number. But, that which
Valerius Maximus hath left recorded of
Euripides,
Valer. Maximus. Euripides. Alcestis. the
tragicke Poet, his answer to
Alcestis, an other
Poet, is as memorable, as modest: who, when it was told to
Alcestis, that
Euripides had in three daies brought forth, but three verses, and those with some difficultie, and throwes;
Alcestis, glorying hee could with ease have sent forth a hundred in the space;
Euripides roundly repl'd, like enough. But, here is the difference; Thy verses will not last those three daies; mine will to all time. Which was, as to tell him; he could not write a verse. I have met many of these Rattles, that made a noyse, and buz'de. They had their humme; and, no more. Indeed, things, wrote with labour, deserve to be so read, and will last their Age. The third requisite in our
Poet, or Maker, is
Imitation, to bee able to convert the substance,
3.
Imitatio. or Riches of an other
Poet, to his owne use. To make choise of one excellent man above the rest, and so to follow him, till he grow very
Hee: or, so like him, as the Copie may be mistaken for the Principall. Not, as a Creature, that swallowes, what it takes in, crude, raw, or indigested; but, that feedes with an Appetite, and hath a Stomacke to concoct, devide, and turne all into nourishment. Not, to imitate servilely, as
Horace saith, and catch at vices,
Horatius. for vertue: but, to draw forth out of the best, and choisest flowers, with the Bee, and turne all into Honey, worke it into one relish, and savour: make our
Imitation sweet: observe, how the best writers have imitated, and follow them. How
Virgil, and
Statius have imitated
Homer: how
Horace, Archilochus; how,
Virgilius. Statius. Homer. Horat. Archil. Alceus. &c.
4. Lectio.
Alcaeus, and the other
Liricks: and so of the rest. But, that, which wee especially require in him is an exactnesse of Studie, and multiplicity of reading, which maketh a full man, not alone enabling him to know the
History, or Argument of a
Poeme, and to report it: but so to master the matter, and Stile, as to shew, hee knowes, how to handle, place, or dispose of either, with
elegancie, when need shall bee. And not thinke, hee can leape forth suddainely a
Poet, by dreaming hee hath been in
Parnassus, or,
Parnassus. Helicon. Ars coron. having washt his lipps (as they say) in
Helicon. There goes more to his making, then so. For to Nature, Exercise, Imitation, and Studie,
Art must bee added, to make all these perfect. And, though these challenge to themselves much, in the making up of our Maker, it is Art only can lead him to perfection, and leave him there in possession, as planted by her hand. It is the assertion of
Tully,
M.T. Cicero. If to an excellent nature, there happen an accession, or confirmation of Learning, and
[Page 128] Discipline, there will then remaine somewhat noble, and singular. For, as
Simylus saith in
Stobaeus;
Simylus. Stob.
[...] without Art, Nature can nere bee perfect; &, without Nature, Art can clayme no being. But, our Poet must beware, that his Studie bee not only to learne of himself; for, hee that shall affect to doe that, confesseth his ever having a Foole to his master. Hee must read many; but, ever the best, and choisest: those, that can teach him any thing, hee must ever account his masters,
Horatius. Aristoteles. and reverence: among whom
Horace, and (hee that taught him)
Aristotle, deserv'd to bee the first in estimation.
Aristotle, was the first accurate
Criticke, and truest Judge; nay, the greatest
Philosopher, the world ever had: for, hee noted the vices of all knowledges, in all creatures, and out of many mens perfections in a Science, hee formed still one Art. So hee taught us two Offices together, how we ought to judge rightly of others, and what wee ought to imitate specially in our selves. But all this in vaine, without a naturall wit, and a Poeticall nature in chiefe. For, no man, so soone as hee knowes this, or reades it, shall be able to write the better; but as he is adapted to it by Nature, he shall grow the perfecter Writer. Hee must have
Civil prudence, and
Eloquence, & that whole; not taken up by snatches, or peeces, in Sentences, or remnants, when he will handle businesse, or carry Counsells, as if he came then out of the Declamors Gallerie, or Shadowe, furnish'd but out of the body of the State,
Virorum schola Respub. which commonly is the Schoole of men. The
Poet is the neerest Borderer upon the Orator, and expresseth all his vertues, though he be tyed more to numbers; is his equall in ornament, and above him in his strengths. And, (of the kind) the
Comicke comes neerest: Because, in moving the minds of men, and stirring of affections (in which Oratory shewes,
Lysippus Apelles. and especially approves her eminence) hee chiefly excells. What figure of a Body was
Lysippus, ever able to forme with his Graver; or
Apelles to paint with his Pencill, as the Comedy to life expresseth so many, and various affections of the minde? 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; tortur'd with expectation; consum'd with feare: no perturbation in common life, but the Orator findes an example of it in the Scene. And then, for the Elegancy of Language,
Naevius. read but this Inscription on the
Grave of a
Comicke Poet:
Immortales mortales, si fas esset, flere,
Flerent divae Camaenae Naevium Poetam;
Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus the sauro,
L. Aelius. Stilo. Plautus. M. Varro.
Obliti sunt Romae, linguâ loqui Latinâ.
Or, that modester Testimonie given by
Lucius Aelius. Stilo upon
Plautus; who affirmed,
Musas, si latinè voluissent, Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas. And that illustrious judgement by the most learned
M. Varro of him; who pronounced him the
Prince of
Letters, and
Elegancie, in the
Roman Language.
I am not of that opinion to conclude a
Poets liberty within the narrowe limits of lawes, which either the
Grammarians, or
Philosophers prescribe. For, before they found out those Lawes, there were many excellent Poets, that fulfill'd them.
Sophocles. Amongst whome none more perfect then
Sophocles, who liv'd a little before
Aristotle.
Demosthenes. Pericles Alcibiades.Which of the
Greekelings durst ever give precepts to
Demosthenes? or to
Pericles, (whom the Age surnam'd
heavenly) because he seem'd to thunder, and lighten, with his Language? or to
Alcibiades, who had rather Nature for his guide, then Art for his master?
[Page 129]But, whatsoever Nature at any time dictated to the most happie; or long exercise to the most laborious, that the wisdome, and Learning of
Aristotle,
Aristotle. hath brought into an Art: because, he understood the Causes of things: and what other men did by chance or custome, he doth by reason; and not only found out the way not to erre, but the short way we should take, not to erre.
Many things in
Euripides hath
Aristophanes wittily reprehended;
Euripides. Aristophanes. not out of Art, but out of Truth. For,
Euripides is sometimes peccant, as he is most times perfect. But, Judgement when it is greatest, if reason doth not accompany it, is not ever absolute.
To judge of Poets is only the facultie of Poets; and not of all Poets,
Cens: Scal: in Lil: Germ. Senec: de brev: vit: cap.
13. & epist.
88. but the best.
Nemo infaeliciùs de Poetis judicavit, quàm qui de Poetis scripsit. But, some will say,
Criticks are a kind of Tinkers; that make more faults, then they mend ordinarily. See their diseases, and those of
Grammarians. It is true, many bodies are the worse for the medling with: And the multitude of
Physicians hath destroyed many sound patients, with their wrong practise. But the office of a true
Critick, or
Censor, is, not to throw by a letter any where, or damne an innocent Syllabe, but lay the words together, and amend them; judge sincerely of the Author, and his matter, which is the signe of solid, and perfect learning in a man. Such was
Horace, an Author of much Civilitie;
Horace. and (if any one among the heathen can be) the best master, both of vertue, and wisdome; 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.
Heins: de Sat:
265.
Cato Grammaticus, Latina Syren,
Qui solus legit, & facit Poetas.
Quintilian of the same heresie, but rejected.
Pag.
267. Pag.
270.271. Pag.
273. & seq. Pag: in comm.
153. & seq.
Horace his judgement of
Choerillus, defended against
Ioseph Scaliger. And, of
Laberius, against
Julius.
But chiefly his opinion of
Plautus, vindicated against many, that are offended, and say, it is a hard Censure upon the parent of all conceipt, and sharpnesse. And, they wish it had not fallen from so great a master, and Censor in the Art: whose bondmen knew better how to judge of
Plautus, then any that dare patronize the family of learning in this Age; who could not bee ignorant of the judgement of the times, in which hee liv'd, when
Poetrie, 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. Againe, a man so gratious, and in high favour with the Emperour, as
Augustus often called him his wittie
Manling, (for the littlenes of his stature;) and (if wee may trust Antiquity) had design'd him for a Secretary of Estate; and invited him to the place, which he modestly praid off, and refus'd.
Horace did so highly esteeme
Terence his Comedies,
Terence. Menander. as he ascribes the Art in Comedie to him alone, among the
Latines, and joynes him with
Menander.
Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend
Horace his judgement to posterity; and not wholly to condemne
Plautus.
The parts of a Comedie are the same with a
Tragedie,
The parts of a Comedie and Tragedie. and the end is partly the same. For, they both delight, and teach; the
Comicks are call'd
[...], of the
Greekes; no lesse then the
Tragicks.
Nor, is the moving of laughter alwaies the end of
Comedy, that is rather a fowling for the peoples delight, or their fooling. For,
Aristotle. as
Aristotle saies rightly, the moving of laughter is a fault in Comedie, a kind of turpitude,
[Page 130] that depraves some part of a mans nature without a disease. As a wry face without paine moves laughter, or a deformed vizard, or a rude Clowne, drest in a Ladies habit, and using her actions, wee dislike, and scorne such representations; which made the ancient Philosophers ever thinke laughter unfitting in a wise man.
Plato. Homer. And this induc'd
Plato to esteeme of
Homer, as a sacrilegious Person; because the presented the
Gods sometimes laughing. As, also it is divinely said of
Aristotle, that to seeme 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 a wry, or depraved, doth strangely stirre meane affections, and provoke for the most part to laughter. And therfore it was cleare that all insolent, and obscene speaches, jest upon the best men; injuries to particular persons; perverse, and sinister Sayings (and the rather unexpected) in the old Comedy did move laughter; especially, where it did imitate any dishonesty; and scurrility came forth in the place of wit: which who understands the nature and
Genius of laughter, cannot but perfectly know.
Aristophanes. Plautus.Of which
Aristophanes affords an ample harvest, having not only out, gone
Plautus, or any other in that kinde; but express'd all the moods, and figures, of what is ridiculous, oddly. In short, as Vinegar is not accounted good, untill the wine be corrupted: so jests that are true and naturall, seldome raise laughter, with the beast, the multitude. They love nothing, that is right, and proper. The farther it runs from reason, or possibility with them, the better it is.
Socrates.What could have made them laugh, like to see
Socrates presented, that Example of all good life, honesty, and vertue, to have him hoisted up with a Pullie, and there play the Philosopher, in a basquet. Measure, how many foote a Flea could skip
Geometrically, by a just Scale, and edifie the people from the ingine.
Theatricall wit. This was
Theatricall wit, right Stage-jesting, and relishing a Play-house, invented for scorne, and laughter; whereas, if it had savour'd of equity, truth, perspicuity, and Candor, to have tasten a wise, or a learned Palate, spit it out presantly; this is bitter and profitable, this instructs, and would informe us: what neede wee know any thing, that are nobly borne, more then a Horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to breake with Citizens, and such innate mysteries.
The Cart.This is truly leaping from the Stage, to the Tumbrell againe, reducing all witt to the Originall Dungcart.
Of the magnitude, and compasse of any Table,
Epicke, or Dramatick.
What the measure of a Fable is. The Fable, or Plott of a Poeme, defin'd.To the resolving of this
Question, wee must first agree in the definition of the Fable. The Fable is call'd the
Imitation of one intire, and perfect Action; whose parts are so joyned, and knitt together, as nothing in the structure can be chang'd; or taken away, without imparing, or troubling the whole; of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members. As for example; if a man would build a house, he would first appoint a place to build it in, which he would define within certaine bounds: So in the Constitution of a
Poeme, the Action is aym'd at by the
Poet, which answers Place in a building; and that Action hath his largenesse, compasse, and proportion. But, as a Court or Kings Palace requires other dimensions then a private house:
The Epick fable. So the
Epick askes a magnitude, from other Poëms. Since, what is Place in the one, is Action in the other, the difference is in space. So that by this definition wee conclude the fable, to be the
imitation of one perfect, and intire
[Page 131] Action; as one perfect, and intire place is requir'd to a building. By perfect, wee understand that, to which nothing is wanting; as Place to the building, that is rais'd, and Action to the fable, that is form'd. It is perfect, perhaps,
differing not for a Court, or Kings Palace, which requires a greater ground; but for the structure wee would raise, so the space of the Action,
from the Dramaticke. What
[...] understand by Whole. may not prove large enough for the
Epick Fable, yet bee perfect for the
Dramatick, and whole.
Whole, wee call that, and perfect, which hath a
beginning, a
mid'st, and an
end. So the place of any building may be whole, and intire, for that worke; though too little for a palace. As, to a
Tragedy or a
Comedy, the Action may be convenient, and perfect, that would not fit an
Epicke Poeme in Magnitude. So a Lion is a perfect creature in himselfe, though it bee lesse, then that of a
Buffalo, or a
Rhinocerote. They differ; but in
specie: either in the kinde 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 worke, there is requir'd a certaine proportionable greatnesse, neither too vast, nor too minute. For that which happens to the Eyes, when wee behold a body, the same happens to the Memorie, when wee contemplate an action. I looke upon a monstrous Giant, as
Tityus, whose body cover'd nine Acres of Land, and mine eye stickes upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts, will never be taken in at one intire view. So in a
Fable, if the Action be too great wee can never comprehend the whole together in our Imagination. Againe, 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 wee should looke upon an Ant or Pismyre, the parts fly the sight, and the whole considered is almost nothing. The same happens in Action, which is the object of Memory, as the body is of sight. Too vast oppresseth the Eyes, and exceeds the Memory: too little scarce admits either.
Now,
What the utmost bound of a fable. in every Action it behooves the
Poet to know which is his utmost bound, how farre with fitnesse, and a necessary proportion, he may produce, and determine it. That is, till either good fortune change into the worse, or the worse into the better. For as a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no more can the Action, either in Comedy, or Tragedy without his fit bounds. And every bound for the nature of the Subject, is esteem'd the best that is largest, till it can increase no more: so it behooves the Action in
Tragedy, or
Comedy, to be let grow, till the necessity aske a Conclusion: wherin two things are to be considered; First, that it exceed not the compasse 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 houshold stuffe, and other furniture are in a house. And so farre for the measure, and extent of a
Fable Dramaticke.
Now, that it should be one, and intire. One is considerable two waies:
What by one, and intire. either, as it is only separate, and by it self: or as being compos'd of many parts, it beginnes to be one, as those parts grow, or are wrought together. That it should be one the first way alone, and by it self, no man that hath tasted letters ever would say, especially having required before a just Magnitude, and equall Proportion of the parts in themselves. Neither of which can possibly bee, if the Action be single and separate, not compos'd of parts, which laid together in themselves, with an equall and fitting proportion, tend to the same end; which thing out of Antiquitie it selfe, hath deceiv'd many; and more this Day it doth deceive.
[Page 132]
Hercules. Theseus. Achilles. Vlysses.So many there be of old, that have thought the Action of one man to be one: As of
Hercules, Theseus, Achilles, Ulysses, and other
Heroes; which is both foolish and false; since by one and the same person many things may be severally done, which cannot fitly be referred, or joyned to the same end: which not only the excellent
Tragick-Poets,
Homer, and Virgill. but the best Masters of the
Epick, Homer, and
Virgil saw. For though the Argument of an
Epick-Poeme be farre more diffus'd, & powr'd out, then that of
Tragedy; yet
Virgil writing of
Aeneas hath pretermitted many things.
Aeneas. He neither tells how he was borne, how brought up; how he fought with
Achilles; how he was snatch'd out of the battaile by
Venus;
Venus. but that one thing, how
he came into Italie, he prosecutes in twelve bookes. The rest of his journey, his error by Sea, the Sacke of
Troy, are put not as the Argument of the worke, but
Episodes of the Argument.
Homer: So
Homer lai'd by many things of
Ulysses and handled no more, then he saw tended to one and the same end.
Contrarie to which and foolishly those
Poets did, whom the
Philosopher taxeth;
Theseus. Hercules. Invenal. Codrus. Of whom one gather'd all the Actions of
Theseus: another put all the Labours of
Hercules in one worke. So did he, whom
Juvenal mentions in the begining,
hoarse Codrus, that recited a volume compil'd, which he call'd his
Theseide, not yet finish'd, to the great trouble both of his hearers and himself: Amongst which there were many parts had no coherence, nor kindred one with other, so farre they were from being one Action, one
Fable. For as a house, consisting of diverse materialls, becomes one structure, and one dwelling; so an Action, compos'd of diverse parts, may become one
Fable Epicke,
Sophocles. Ajax. or
Dramaticke. For
example, in a
Tragedy looke upon
Sophocles his
Ajax: Ajax depriv'd of
Achilles's Armour, which he hop'd from the suffrage of the
Greekes, disdaines; and, growing impatient of the Injurie, rageth, and turnes mad. In that humour he doth many senslesse things; and at last falls upon the
Grecian flocke,
Vlysses. and kills a great Ramme for
Ulysses: Returning to his Sense, he growes asham'd of the scorne, and kills himself; and is by the
Chiefes of the
Greekes forbidden buriall. These things agree, and hang together, not as they were done; but as seeming to be done, which made the Action whole, intire, and absolute.
The conclusion concerning the Whole, and the Parts.
For the
whole, as it consisteth of parts; so without all the parts it is not the whole; and to make it absolute, is requir'd, not only the parts, but such parts as are true. For a part of the whole was true; which if you take away, you either change the whole, or it is not the whole. For if it be such a part, as being present or absent, nothing concernes the whole, it cannot be call'd a part of the whole:
Which are Episodes. Ajax, and Hector. Homer. 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 describ'd in
Homer, nothing belongs to this
Ajax of
Sophocles.
You admire no
Poems, but such as run like a Brewers-cart upon the stones, hobling,
Et, quae per salebras, altaque saxacadunt.
Actius, & quidquid Pacuviusque vomunt.
Martial. lib.
11. epigr.
91.
Attonitusque legis
terrai, frugiferai.
FINIS. *⁎*