No More Learning

The
conceits of the mind are pictures of things, and the tongue is the
interpreter of those pictures. The order of God's creatures in
themselves is not only admirable and glorious, but eloquent: then he who
could apprehend the consequence of things in their truth, and utter his
apprehensions as truly, were the best writer or speaker. Therefore
Cicero said much, when he said, _Dicere recte nemo potest_, _nisi qui
prudenter intelligit_. {124a} The shame of speaking unskilfully were
small if the tongue only thereby were disgraced; but as the image of a
king in his seal ill-represented is not so much a blemish to the wax, or
the signet that sealed it, as to the prince it representeth, so
disordered speech is not so much injury to the lips that give it forth,
as to the disproportion and incoherence of things in themselves, so
negligently expressed. Neither can his mind be thought to be in tune,
whose words do jar; nor his reason in frame, whose sentence is
preposterous; nor his elocution clear and perfect, whose utterance breaks
itself into fragments and uncertainties. Were it not a dishonour to a
mighty prince, to have the majesty of his embassage spoiled by a careless
ambassador? and is it not as great an indignity, that an excellent
conceit and capacity, by the indiligence of an idle tongue, should be
disgraced? Negligent speech doth not only discredit the person of the
speaker, but it discrediteth the opinion of his reason and judgment; it
discrediteth the force and uniformity of the matter and substance. If it
be so then in words, which fly and escape censure, and where one good
phrase begs pardon for many incongruities and faults, how shall he then
be thought wise whose penning is thin and shallow? how shall you look for
wit from him whose leisure and head, assisted with the examination of his
eyes, yield you no life or sharpness in his writing?

_De stylo epistolari_. --_Inventio_. --In writing there is to be regarded the
invention and the fashion. For the invention, that ariseth upon your
business, whereof there can be no rules of more certainty, or precepts of
better direction given, than conjecture can lay down from the several
occasions of men's particular lives and vocations: but sometimes men make
baseness of kindness: As "I could not satisfy myself till I had
discharged my remembrance, and charged my letters with commendation to
you;" or, "My business is no other than to testify my love to you, and to
put you in mind of my willingness to do you all kind offices;" or, "Sir,
have you leisure to descend to the remembering of that assurance you have
long possessed in your servant, and upon your next opportunity make him
happy with some commands from you? " or the like; that go a-begging for
some meaning, and labour to be delivered of the great burden of nothing.
When you have invented, and that your business be matter, and not bare
form, or mere ceremony, but some earnest, then are you to proceed to the
ordering of it, and digesting the parts, which is had out of two
circumstances. One is the understanding of the persons to whom you are
to write; the other is the coherence of your sentence; for men's capacity
to weigh what will be apprehended with greatest attention or leisure;
what next regarded and longed for especially, and what last will leave
satisfaction, and (as it were) the sweetest memorial and belief of all
that is passed in his understanding whom you write to. For the
consequence of sentences, you must be sure that every clause do give the
cue one to the other, and be bespoken ere it come. So much for invention
and order.

_Modus_. --1. _Brevitas_. --Now for fashion: it consists in four things,
which are qualities of your style. The first is brevity; for they must
not be treatises or discourses (your letters) except it be to learned
men. And even among them there is a kind of thrift and saving of words.
Therefore you are to examine the clearest passages of your understanding,
and through them to convey the sweetest and most significant words you
can devise, that you may the easier teach them the readiest way to
another man's apprehension, and open their meaning fully, roundly, and
distinctly, so as the reader may not think a second view cast away upon
your letter. And though respect be a part following this, yet now here,
and still I must remember it, if you write to a man, whose estate and
sense, as senses, you are familiar with, you may the bolder (to set a
task to his brain) venture on a knot. But if to your superior, you are
bound to measure him in three farther points: first, with interest in
him; secondly, his capacity in your letters; thirdly, his leisure to
peruse them. For your interest or favour with him, you are to be the
shorter or longer, more familiar or submiss, as he will afford you time.
For his capacity, you are to be quicker and fuller of those reaches and
glances of wit or learning, as he is able to entertain them. For his
leisure, you are commanded to the greater briefness, as his place is of
greater discharges and cares. But with your betters, you are not to put
riddles of wit, by being too scarce of words; not to cause the trouble of
making breviates by writing too riotous and wastingly. Brevity is
attained in matter by avoiding idle compliments, prefaces, protestations,
parentheses, superfluous circuit of figures and digressions: in the
composition, by omitting conjunctions [_not only_, _but also_; _both the
one and the other_, _whereby it cometh to pass_] and such like idle
particles, that have no great business in a serious letter but breaking
of sentences, as oftentimes a short journey is made long by unnessary
baits.

_Quintilian_. --But, as Quintilian saith, there is a briefness of the parts
sometimes that makes the whole long: "As I came to the stairs, I took a
pair of oars, they launched out, rowed apace, I landed at the court gate,
I paid my fare, went up to the presence, asked for my lord, I was
admitted. " All this is but, "I went to the court and spake with my
lord. " This is the fault of some Latin writers within these last hundred
years of my reading, and perhaps Seneca may be appeached of it; I accuse
him not.

2. _Perspicuitas_. --The next property of epistolary style is perspicuity,
and is oftentimes by affectation of some wit ill angled for, or
ostentation of some hidden terms of art. Few words they darken speech,
and so do too many; as well too much light hurteth the eyes, as too
little; and a long bill of chancery confounds the understanding as much
as the shortest note; therefore, let not your letters be penned like
English statutes, and this is obtained. These vices are eschewed by
pondering your business well and distinctly concerning yourself, which is
much furthered by uttering your thoughts, and letting them as well come
forth to the light and judgment of your own outward senses as to the
censure of other men's ears; for that is the reason why many good
scholars speak but fumblingly; like a rich man, that for want of
particular note and difference can bring you no certain ware readily out
of his shop. Hence it is that talkative shallow men do often content the
hearers more than the wise. But this may find a speedier redress in
writing, where all comes under the last examination of the eyes. First,
mind it well, then pen it, then examine it, then amend it, and you may be
in the better hope of doing reasonably well. Under this virtue may come
plainness, which is not to be curious in the order as to answer a letter,
as if you were to answer to interrogatories. As to the first, first; and
to the second, secondly, &c. but both in method to use (as ladies do in
their attire) a diligent kind of negligence, and their sportive freedom;
though with some men you are not to jest, or practise tricks; yet the
delivery of the most important things may be carried with such a grace,
as that it may yield a pleasure to the conceit of the reader. There must
be store, though no excess of terms; as if you are to name store,
sometimes you may call it choice, sometimes plenty, sometimes
copiousness, or variety; but ever so, that the word which comes in lieu
have not such difference of meaning as that it may put the sense of the
first in hazard to be mistaken. You are not to cast a ring for the
perfumed terms of the time, as _accommodation_, _complement_, _spirit_
&c. , but use them properly in their place, as others.

3. _Vigor_--There followeth life and quickness, which is the strength and
sinews, as it were, of your penning by pretty sayings, similitudes, and
conceits; allusions from known history, or other common-place, such as
are in the _Courtier_, and the second book of Cicero _De Oratore_.

4. _Discretio_. --The last is, respect to discern what fits yourself, him
to whom you write, and that which you handle, which is a quality fit to
conclude the rest, because it doth include all. And that must proceed
from ripeness of judgment, which, as one truly saith, is gotten by four
means, God, nature, diligence, and conversation. Serve the first well,
and the rest will serve you.

_De Poetica_. --We have spoken sufficiently of oratory, let us now make a
diversion to poetry. Poetry, in the primogeniture, had many peccant
humours, and is made to have more now, through the levity and inconstancy
of men's judgments. Whereas, indeed, it is the most prevailing
eloquence, and of the most exalted caract. Now the discredits and
disgraces are many it hath received through men's study of depravation or
calumny; their practice being to give it diminution of credit, by
lessening the professor's estimation, and making the age afraid of their
liberty; and the age is grown so tender of her fame, as she calls all
writings aspersions.

That is the state word, the phrase of court (placentia college), which
some call Parasites place, the Inn of Ignorance.

_D. Hieronymus_. --Whilst I name no persons, but deride follies, why should
any man confess or betray himself why doth not that of S. Hierome come
into their mind, _Ubi generalis est de vitiis disputatio_, _ibi nullius
esse personae injuriam_? {133a} Is it such an inexpiable crime in poets
to tax vices generally, and no offence in them, who, by their exception
confess they have committed them particularly? Are we fallen into those
times that we must not--

"Auriculas teneras mordaci rodere vero. " {133b}

_Remedii votum semper verius erat_, _quam spes_. {133c}--_Sexus faemin_. --If
men may by no means write freely, or speak truth, but when it offends
not, why do physicians cure with sharp medicines, or corrosives? is not
the same equally lawful in the cure of the mind that is in the cure of
the body? Some vices, you will say, are so foul that it is better they
should be done than spoken. But they that take offence where no name,
character, or signature doth blazon them seem to me like affected as
women, who if they hear anything ill spoken of the ill of their sex, are
presently moved, as if the contumely respected their particular; and on
the contrary, when they hear good of good women, conclude that it belongs
to them all. If I see anything that toucheth me, shall I come forth a
betrayer of myself presently? No, if I be wise, I'll dissemble it; if
honest, I'll avoid it, lest I publish that on my own forehead which I saw
there noted without a title. A man that is on the mending hand will
either ingenuously confess or wisely dissemble his disease. And the wise
and virtuous will never think anything belongs to themselves that is
written, but rejoice that the good are warned not to be such; and the ill
to leave to be such. The person offended hath no reason to be offended
with the writer, but with himself; and so to declare that properly to
belong to him which was so spoken of all men, as it could be no man's
several, but his that would wilfully and desperately claim it. It
sufficeth I know what kind of persons I displease, men bred in the
declining and decay of virtue, betrothed to their own vices; that have
abandoned or prostituted their good names; hungry and ambitious of
infamy, invested in all deformity, enthralled to ignorance and malice, of
a hidden and concealed malignity, and that hold a concomitancy with all
evil.



_What is a Poet_?


_Poeta_. --A poet is that which by the Greeks is called ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , ?
? ? ? ? ? ? ? , a maker, or a feigner: his art, an art of imitation or feigning;
expressing the life of man in fit measure, numbers, and harmony,
according to Aristotle; from the word ? ? ? ? ? ? , which signifies to make or
feign. Hence he is called a poet, not he which writeth in measure only,
but that feigneth and formeth a fable, and writes things like the truth.
For the fable and fiction is, as it were, the form and soul of any
poetical work or poem.



_What mean_, _you by a Poem_?


_Poema_. --A poem is not alone any work or composition of the poet's in
many or few verses; but even one verse alone sometimes makes a perfect
poem. As when AEneas hangs up and consecrates the arms of Abas with this
inscription:--

"AEneas haec de Danais victoribus arma. " {136a}

And calls it a poem or carmen. Such are those in Martial:--

"Omnia, Castor, emis: sic fiet, ut omnia vendas. " {136b}

And--

"Pauper videri Cinna vult, et est pauper. " {136c}

_Horatius_. --_Lucretius_. --So were Horace's odes called Carmina, his lyric
songs. And Lucretius designs a whole book in his sixth:--

"Quod in primo quoque carmine claret. " {136d}

_Epicum_. --_Dramaticum_. --_Lyricum_. --_Elegiacum_. --_Epigrammat_. --And
anciently all the oracles were called Carmina; or whatever sentence was
expressed, were it much or little, it was called an Epic, Dramatic,
Lyric, Elegiac, or Epigrammatic poem.



_But how differs a Poem from what we call Poesy_?


_Poesis_. --_Artium regina_. --_Poet.
differentiae_. --_Grammatic_. --_Logic_. --_Rhetoric_. --_Ethica_. --A poem, as I
have told you, is the work of the poet; the end and fruit of his labour
and study. Poesy is his skill or craft of making; the very fiction
itself, the reason or form of the work. And these three voices differ,
as the thing done, the doing, and the doer; the thing feigned, the
feigning, and the feigner; so the poem, the poesy, and the poet. Now the
poesy is the habit or the art; nay, rather the queen of arts, which had
her original from heaven, received thence from the Hebrews, and had in
prime estimation with the Greeks transmitted to the Latins and all
nations that professed civility. The study of it (if we will trust
Aristotle) offers to mankind a certain rule and pattern of living well
and happily, disposing us to all civil offices of society. If we will
believe Tully, it nourisheth and instructeth our youth, delights our age,
adorns our prosperity, comforts our adversity, entertains us at home,
keeps us company abroad, travels with us, watches, divides the times of
our earnest and sports, shares in our country recesses and recreations;
insomuch as the wisest and best learned have thought her the absolute
mistress of manners and nearest of kin to virtue. And whereas they
entitle philosophy to be a rigid and austere poesy, they have, on the
contrary, styled poesy a dulcet and gentle philosophy, which leads on and
guides us by the hand to action with a ravishing delight and incredible
sweetness. But before we handle the kinds of poems, with their special
differences, or make court to the art itself, as a mistress, I would lead
you to the knowledge of our poet by a perfect information what he is or
should be by nature, by exercise, by imitation, by study, and so bring
him down through the disciplines of grammar, logic, rhetoric, and the
ethics, adding somewhat out of all, peculiar to himself, and worthy of
your admittance or reception.

1.
_Ingenium_. --_Seneca_. --_Plato_. --_Aristotle_. --_Helicon_. --_Pegasus_. --
_Parnassus_. --_Ovid_. --First, we require in our poet or maker (for that
title our language affords him elegantly with the Greek) a goodness of
natural wit. For whereas all other arts consist of doctrine and
precepts, the poet must be able by nature and instinct to pour out the
treasure of his mind, and as Seneca saith, _Aliquando secundum
Anacreontem insanire jucundum esse_; by which he understands the poetical
rapture. And according to that of Plato, _Frustra poeticas fores sui
compos pulsavit_. And of Aristotle, _Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixtura
dementiae fuit_. _Nec potest grande aliquid_, _et supra caeteros loqui_,
_nisi mota mens_. Then it riseth higher, as by a divine instinct, when
it contemns common and known conceptions. It utters somewhat above a
mortal mouth. Then it gets aloft and flies away with his rider, whither
before it was doubtful to ascend. This the poets understood by their
Helicon, Pegasus, or Parnassus; and this made Ovid to boast,

"Est deus in nobis, agitante calescimus illo
Sedibus aethereis spiritus ille venit. " {139a}

_Lipsius_. --_Petron. in. Fragm_. --And Lipsius to affirm, _Scio_, _poetam
neminem praestantem fuisse_, _sine parte quadam uberiore divinae aurae_.
And hence it is that the coming up of good poets (for I mind not
mediocres or imos) is so thin and rare among us. Every beggarly
corporation affords the State a mayor or two bailiffs yearly; but _Solus
rex_, _aut poeta_, _non quotannis nascitur_. To this perfection of
nature in our poet we require exercise of those parts, and frequent.

2. _Exercitatio_. --_Virgil_. --_Scaliger_. --_Valer.
Maximus_. --_Euripides_. --_Alcestis_. --If his wit will not arrive suddenly at
the dignity of the ancients, let him not yet fall out with it, quarrel,
or be over hastily angry; offer to turn it away from study in a humour,
but come to it again upon better cogitation; try another time with
labour. If then it succeed not, cast not away the quills yet, nor
scratch the wainscot, beat not the poor desk, but bring all to the forge
and file again; torn it anew. There is no statute law of the kingdom
bids you be a poet against your will or the first quarter; if it comes in
a year or two, it is well. The common rhymers pour forth verses, such as
they are, _ex tempore_; but there never comes from them one sense worth
the life of a day. A rhymer and a poet are two things. It is said of
the incomparable Virgil that he brought forth his verses like a bear, and
after formed them with licking. Scaliger the father writes it of him,
that he made a quantity of verses in the morning, which afore night he
reduced to a less number. But that which Valerius Maximus hath left
recorded of Euripides, the tragic poet, his answer to Alcestis, another
poet, is as memorable as modest; who, when it was told to Alcestis that
Euripides had in three days brought forth but three verses, and those
with some difficulty and throes, Alcestis, glorying he could with ease
have sent forth a hundred in the space, Euripides roundly replied, "Like
enough; but here is the difference: thy verses will not last these three
days, mine will to all time. " Which was as much as to tell him he could
not write a verse. I have met many of these rattles that made a noise
and buzzed. They had their hum, and no more. Indeed, things wrote with
labour deserve to be so read, and will last their age.

3.
_Imitatio_. --_Horatius_. --_Virgil_. --_Statius_. --_Homer_. --_Horat_. --_Archil_. --
_Alcaeus_, &c. --The third requisite in our poet or maker is imitation, to
be able to convert the substance or riches of another poet to his own
use.
To make choice of one excellent man above the rest, and so to
follow him till he grow very he, or so like him as the copy may be
mistaken for the principal. Not as a creature that swallows what it
takes in crude, raw, or undigested, but that feeds with an appetite, and
hath a stomach to concoct, divide, and turn all into nourishment. Not to
imitate servilely, as Horace saith, and catch at vices for virtue, but to
draw forth out of the best and choicest flowers, with the bee, and turn
all into honey, work it into one relish and savour; make our imitation
sweet; observe how the best writers have imitated, and follow them. How
Virgil and Statius have imitated Homer; how Horace, Archilochus; how
Alcaeus, and the other lyrics; and so of the rest.

4. _Lectio_. --_Parnassus_. --_Helicon_. --_Arscoron_. --_M. T.
Cicero_. --_Simylus_. --_Stob_. --_Horat_. --_Aristot_. --But that which we
especially require in him is an exactness of study and multiplicity of
reading, which maketh a full man, not alone enabling him to know the
history or argument of a poem and to report it, but so to master the
matter and style, as to show he knows how to handle, place, or dispose of
either with elegancy when need shall be. And not think he can leap forth
suddenly a poet by dreaming he hath been in Parnassus, or having washed
his lips, as they say, in Helicon. There goes more to his making than
so; for to nature, exercise, imitation, and study art must be added to
make all these perfect. And though these challenge to themselves much in
the making up of our maker, it is Art only can lead him to perfection,
and leave him there in possession, as planted by her hand. It is the
assertion of Tully, if to an excellent nature there happen an accession
or conformation of learning and discipline, there will then remain
somewhat noble and singular. For, as Simylus saith in Stobaeus, ? ? ? ?
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? y? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ,
without art nature can never be perfect; and without nature art can claim
no being. But our poet must beware that his study be not only to learn
of himself; for he that shall affect to do that confesseth his ever
having a fool to his master. He must read many, but ever the best and
choicest; those that can teach him anything he must ever account his
masters, and reverence. Among whom Horace and (he that taught him)
Aristotle deserved to be the first in estimation. Aristotle was the
first accurate critic and truest judge--nay, the greatest philosopher the
world ever had--for he noted the vices of all knowledges in all creatures,
and out of many men's perfections in a science he formed still one art.
So he taught us two offices together, how we ought to judge rightly of
others, and what we ought to imitate specially in ourselves. But all
this in vain without a natural wit and a poetical nature in chief. For
no man, so soon as he knows this or reads it, shall be able to write the
better; but as he is adapted to it by nature, he shall grow the perfecter
writer. He must have civil prudence and eloquence, and that whole; not
taken up by snatches or pieces in sentences or remnants when he will
handle business or carry counsels, as if he came then out of the
declaimer's gallery, or shadow furnished but out of the body of the
State, which commonly is the school of men.

_Virorum schola respub_. --_Lysippus_. --_Apelles_. --_Naevius_. --The poet is the
nearest borderer upon the orator, and expresseth all his virtues, though
he be tied more to numbers, is his equal in ornament, and above him in
his strengths. And (of the kind) the comic comes nearest; because in
moving the minds of men, and stirring of affections (in which oratory
shows, and especially approves her eminence), he chiefly excels. What
figure of a body was Lysippus ever able to form with his graver, or
Apelles to paint with his pencil, as the comedy to life expresseth so
many and various affections of the mind? There shall the spectator see
some insulting with joy, others fretting with melancholy, raging with
anger, mad with love, boiling with avarice, undone with riot, tortured
with expectation, consumed with fear; no perturbation in common life but
the orator finds an example of it in the scene. And then for the
elegancy of language, read but this inscription on the grave of a comic
poet:

"Immortales mortales si fas esset fiere,
Flerent divae Camoenae Naevium poetam;
Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus thesauro,
Obliti sunt Romae lingua loqui Latina. " {146a}

_L. AElius Stilo_. --_Plautus_. --_M. Varro_. --Or that modester testimony given
by Lucius AElius Stilo upon Plautus, who affirmed, "_Musas_, _si Latine
loqui voluissent_, _Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas_. " And that
illustrious judgment by the most learned M. Varro of him, who pronounced
him the prince of letters and elegancy in the Roman language.

_Sophocles_. --I am not of that opinion to conclude a poet's liberty within
the narrow limits of laws which either the grammarians or philosophers
prescribe. For before they found out those laws there were many
excellent poets that fulfilled them, amongst whom none more perfect than
Sophocles, who lived a little before Aristotle.

_Demosthenes_. --_Pericles_. --_Alcibiades_. --Which of the Greeklings durst
ever give precepts to Demosthenes? or to Pericles, whom the age surnamed
Heavenly, because he seemed to thunder and lighten with his language? or
to Alcibiades, who had rather Nature for his guide than Art for his
master?

_Aristotle_. --But whatsoever nature at any time dictated to the most
happy, or long exercise to the most laborious, that the wisdom and
learning of Aristotle hath brought into an art, because he understood the
causes of things; and what other men did by chance or custom he doth by
reason; and not only found out the way not to err, but the short way we
should take not to err.

_Euripides_. --_Aristophanes_. --Many things in Euripides hath Aristophanes
wittily reprehended, not out of art, but out of truth. For Euripides is
sometimes peccant, as he is most times perfect. But judgment when it is
greatest, if reason doth not accompany it, is not ever absolute.

_Cens. Scal. in Lil. Germ_. --_Horace_. --To judge of poets is only the
faculty of poets; and not of all poets, but the best. _Nemo infelicius
de poetis judicavit_, _quam qui de poetis scripsit_. {148a} But some
will say critics are a kind of tinkers, that make more faults than they
mend ordinarily. See their diseases and those of grammarians. It is
true, many bodies are the worse for the meddling with; and the multitude
of physicians hath destroyed many sound patients with their wrong
practice. But the office of a true critic or censor is, not to throw by
a letter anywhere, or damn an innocent syllable, but lay the words
together, and amend them; judge sincerely of the author and his matter,
which is the sign of solid and perfect learning in a man. Such was
Horace, an author of much civility, and (if any one among the heathen can
be) the best master both of virtue and wisdom; an excellent and true
judge upon cause and reason, not because he thought so, but because he
knew so out of use and experience.

Cato, the grammarian, a defender of Lucilius. {149a}

"Cato grammaticus, Latina syren,
Qui solus legit, et facit poetas. "

Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected. {149b}

Horace, his judgment of Choerillus defended against Joseph Scaliger.
{149c} And of Laberius against Julius. {149d}

But chiefly his opinion of Plautus {149e} vindicated against many that
are offended, and say it is a hard censure upon the parent of all conceit
and sharpness. And they wish it had not fallen from so great a master
and censor in the art, whose bondmen knew better how to judge of Plautus
than any that dare patronise the family of learning in this age; who
could not be ignorant of the judgment of the times in which he lived,
when poetry and the Latin language were at the height; especially being a
man so conversant and inwardly familiar with the censures of great men
that did discourse of these things daily amongst themselves. Again, a
man so gracious and in high favour with the Emperor, as Augustus often
called him his witty manling (for the littleness of his stature), and, if
we may trust antiquity, had designed him for a secretary of estate, and
invited him to the palace, which he modestly prayed off and refused.

_Terence_. --_Menander_. Horace did so highly esteem Terence's comedies,
as he ascribes the art in comedy to him alone among the Latins, and joins
him with Menander.

Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend Horace's judgment
to posterity and not wholly to condemn Plautus.

_The parts of a comedy and tragedy_. --The parts of a comedy are the same
with a tragedy, and the end is partly the same, for they both delight and
teach; the comics are called ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? , of the Greeks no less than the
tragics.

_Aristotle_. --_Plato_. --_Homer_. --Nor is the moving of laughter always the
end of comedy; that is rather a fowling for the people's delight, or
their fooling. For, as Aristotle says rightly, the moving of laughter is
a fault in comedy, a kind of turpitude that depraves some part of a man's
nature without a disease. As a wry face without pain moves laughter, or
a deformed vizard, or a rude clown dressed in a lady's habit and using
her actions; we dislike and scorn such representations which made the
ancient philosophers ever think laughter unfitting in a wise man. And
this induced Plato to esteem of Homer as a sacrilegious person, because
he presented the gods sometimes laughing. As also it is divinely said of
Aristotle, that to seen ridiculous is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.

_The wit of the old comedy_. --So that what either in the words or sense of
an author, or in the language or actions of men, is awry or depraved does
strangely stir mean affections, and provoke for the most part to
laughter. And therefore it was clear that all insolent and obscene
speeches, jests upon the best men, injuries to particular persons,
perverse and sinister sayings (and the rather unexpected) in the old
comedy did move laughter, especially where it did imitate any dishonesty,
and scurrility came forth in the place of wit, which, who understands the
nature and genius of laughter cannot but perfectly know.

_Aristophanes_. --_Plautus_. --Of which Aristophanes affords an ample
harvest, having not only outgone Plautus or any other in that kind, but
expressed all the moods and figures of what is ridiculous oddly. In
short, as vinegar is not accounted good until the wine be corrupted, so
jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter with the beast the
multitude. They love nothing that is right and proper. The farther it
runs from reason or possibility with them the better it is.

_Socrates_. --_Theatrical wit_. --What could have made them laugh, like to
see Socrates presented, that example of all good life, honesty, and
virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pulley, and there play the
philosopher in a basket; measure how many foot a flea could skip
geometrically, by a just scale, and edify the people from the engine.
This was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing a playhouse,
invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had savoured of equity,
truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have tasten a wise or a learned
palate,--spit it out presently! this is bitter and profitable: this
instructs and would inform us: what need we know any thing, that are
nobly born, more than a horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to break
with citizens, and such innate mysteries?

_The cart_. --This is truly leaping from the stage to the tumbril again,
reducing all wit to the original dung-cart.



Of the magnitude and compass of any fable, epic or dramatic.


_What the measure of a fable is_. --_The fable or plot of a poem
defined_. --_The epic fable_, _differing from the dramatic_. --To the
resolving of this question we must first agree in the definition of the
fable. The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect
action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the
structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling
the whole, of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members.
As for example: if a man would build a house, he would first appoint a
place to build it in, which he would define within certain bounds; so in
the constitution of a poem, the action is aimed at by the poet, which
answers place in a building, and that action hath his largeness, compass,
and proportion. But as a court or king's palace requires other
dimensions than a private house, so the epic asks a magnitude from other
poems, since what is place in the one is action in the other; the
difference is an space. So that by this definition we conclude the fable
to be the imitation of one perfect and entire action, as one perfect and
entire place is required to a building. By perfect, we understand that
to which nothing is wanting, as place to the building that is raised, and
action to the fable that is formed. It is perfect, perhaps not for a
court or king's palace, which requires a greater ground, but for the
structure he would raise; so the space of the action may not prove large
enough for the epic fable, yet be perfect for the dramatic, and whole.

_What we understand by whole_. --Whole we call that, and perfect, which
hath a beginning, a midst, and an end. So the place of any building may
be whole and entire for that work, though too little for a palace. As to
a tragedy or a comedy, the action may be convenient and perfect that
would not fit an epic poem in magnitude. So a lion is a perfect creature
in himself, though it be less than that of a buffalo or a rhinocerote.
They differ but in specie: either in the kind is absolute; both have
their parts, and either the whole. Therefore, as in every body so in
every action, which is the subject of a just work, there is required a
certain proportionable greatness, neither too vast nor too minute. For
that which happens to the eyes when we behold a body, the same happens to
the memory when we contemplate an action. I look upon a monstrous giant,
as Tityus, whose body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks
upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts will never be
taken in at one entire view.