about what matters they be employed: then of all the commended fourmes of
Poemes, thirdly of metricall proportions, such as do appertaine to our
vulgar arte: and last of all set forth the poeticall ornament consisting
chiefly in the beautie and gallantness of his language and stile, and so
haue apparelled him to our seeming, in all his gorgious habilliments, and
pulling him first from the carte to the schoole, and from thence to the
Court, and preferred him to your Maiesties seruice, in that place of great
honour and magnificence to geue entertainment to Princes, Ladies of
honour, Gentlewomen and Gentlemen, and by his many moodes of skill, to
serue the many humors of men thither haunting and resorting, some by way
of solace, some of serious aduise and in matters aswell profitable as
pleasant and honest. Wee haue in our humble conceit sufficiently
perfourmed our promise or rather dutie to your Maiestie in the description
of this arte, so alwaies as we leaue him not vnfurnisht of one peece that
best befeemes that place of any other, and may serue as a principall good
lesson for al good makers to beare continually in mind, in the vsage of
this science: which is that being now lately become a Courtier he shew not
himself a craftsman, & merit to be disgraded, & with scorne sent back
againe to the shop, or other place of his first facultie and calling, but
that so wisely & discreetly he behaue himselfe as he may worthily returne
the credit of his place, and profession of a very Courtier, which is in
plaine termes, cunningly to be able to dissemble. But (if it please your
Maiestie) may it not seeme inough for a Courtier to know how to weare a
fether, and set his cappe a slaunt, his chaine _en echarpe_, a straight
buskin _al inglesse_, a loose _alo Turquesque_, the cape _alla Spaniola_,
the breech _a la Françoise_, and by twentie maner of new faishoned
garments to disguise his body, and his face with as many countenances,
whereof it seemes there be many that make a very arte, and studie who can
shew himselfe most fine, I will not say most foolish and ridiculous? or
perhaps rather that he could dissemble his conceits as well as his
countenances, so as he neuer speake as he thinkes, or thinke as he speaks,
and that in any matter of importance his words and his meaning very
seldome meete: for so as I remember it was concluded by vs setting foorth
the figure _Allegoria_, which therefore not impertinently we call the
Courtier or figure of faire semblant, or is it not perchance more
requisite our courtly Poet do dissemble not onely his countenances &
conceits, but also all his ordinary actions of behauiour, or the most part
of them, whereby the better to winne his purposes & good aduantages, as
now & then to haue a iourney or sicknesse in his sleeue, thereby to shake
of other importunities of greater consequence, as they vse their
pilgrimages in Fraunce, the Diet in Spaine, the baines in Italy? and when
a man is whole to faine himselfe sicke to shunne the businesse in Court,
to entertaine time and ease at home, to salue offences without discredite,
to win purposes by mediation in absence, which their presence would eyther
impeach or not greatly preferre, to harken after the popular opinions and
speech, to entend to their more priuate solaces, to practize more deepely
both at leasure & libertie, & when any publique affaire or other attempt &
counsaile of theirs hath not receaued good successe, to auoid therby the
Princes present reproofe, to coole their chollers by absence, to winne
remorse by lamentable reports, and reconciliation by friends intreatie.
Finally by sequestering themselues for a time fro the Court, to be able
the frecher & cleerer to discerne the factions and state of the Court and
of al the world besides, no lesse then doth the looker on or beholder of a
game better see into all points of auauntage, then the player himselfe?
and in dissembling of diseases which I pray you? for I haue obserued it in
the Court of Fraunce, not a burning feuer or a plurisie, or a palsie or
the hydropick and swelling gowte, or any other like disease, for if they
may be such as may be either easily discerned or quickly cured, they be
ill to dissemble and doo halfe handsomely serue the turne.
But it must be either a dry dropsie, or a megrim or letarge, or a fistule
_in ano_, or some such other secret disease, as the common conuersant can
hardly discouer, and the Phisition either not speedily heale, or not
honestly bewray? of which infirmities the scoffing _Pasquil_ wrote, _Vleus
vesicae renum dolor in peno scirrus_. Or as I haue seene in diuers places
where many make themselues hart whole, when in deede they are full sicke,
bearing it stoutly out to the hazard of their health, rather then they
would be suspected of any lothsome infirmity, which might inhibit them
from the Princes presence, or entertainment of the ladies. Or as some
other do to beare a port of state & plentie when they haue neither penny
nor possession, that they may not seeme to droope, and be reiected as
vnworthy or insufficient for the greater seruices, or be pitied for their
pouertie, which they hold for a marueilous disgrace as did the poore
Squire of Castile, who had rather dine with a sheepes head at home &
drinke a cruse of water to it, then to haue a good dinner giuen him by his
friend who was nothing ignorant of his pouertie. Or as others do to make
wise they be poore when they be riche, to shunne thereby the publicke
charges and vocations, for men are not now a dayes (specially in states of
_Oligarchie_ as the most in our age) called somuch for their wisedome as
for their wealth, also to auoyde enuie of neighbours or bountie in
conuersation, for whosoeuer is reputed rich cannot without reproch, but be
either a lender or a spender. Or as others do to seeme very busie when
they haue nothing to doo, and yet will make themselues so occupied and
ouerladen in the Princes affaires, as it is a great matter to haue a
couple of wordes with them, when notwithstanding they lye sleeping on
their beds all an after noone, or sit solemnly at cardes in their
chambers, or enterteyning of the Dames, or laughing and gibing with their
familiars foure houres by the clocke, whiles the poore suter desirous of
his dispatch is aunswered by some Secretarie or page _il fault attendre,
Monsieur_ is dispatching the kings businesse into Languedock, Prouence
Piemont, a common phrase with the Secretaries of France. Or as I haue
obserued in many of the Princes Courts of Italie, to seeme idle when they
be earnestly occupied & entend to nothing but mischieuous practizes, and
do busily negotiate by coulor of otiation. Or as others of them that go
ordinarily to Church and neuer pray to winne an opinion of holinesse: or
pray still apace, but neuer do good deede, and geue a begger a penny and
spend a pound on a harlot, to speake faire to a mans face, and foule
behinde his backe, to set him at his trencher and yet sit on his skirts
for so we vse to say by a fayned friend, then also to be rough and
churlish in speach and apparance, but inwardly affectionate and fauouring,
as I haue sene of the greatest podestates and grauest iudges and
Presidentes of Parliament in Fraunce.
These & many such like disguisings do we find in mans behauiour, &
specially in the Courtiers of forraine Countreyes, where in my youth I was
brought vp, and very well obserued their maner of life and conuersation,
for of mine owne Countrey I haue not made so great experience. Which
parts, neuerthelesse, we allow not now in our English maker, because we
haue geuen him the name of an honest man, and not of an hypocrite: and
therefore leauing these manner of dissimulations to all base-minded men, &
of vile nature or misterie, we doe allow our Courtly Poet to be a
dissembler only in the subtilties of his arte: that is, when he is most
artificiall, so to disguise and cloake it as it may not appeare, nor seeme
to proceede from him by any studie or trade of rules, but to be his
naturall: nor so euidently to be descried, as euery ladde that reades him
shall say he is a good scholler, but will rather haue him to know his arte
well, and little to vse it.
And yet peraduenture in all points it may not be so taken, but in such
onely as may discouer his grossenes or his ignorance by some schollerly
affectation: which thing is very irkesome to all men of good trayning, and
specially to Courtiers. And yet for all that our maker may not be in all
cases restrayned, but that he may both vse and also manifest his arte to
his great praise, and need no more be ashamed thereof, than a shomaker to
haue made a cleanly shoe or a Carpenter to haue buylt a faire house.
Therefore to discusse and make this point somewhat cleerer, to weete,
where arte ought to appeare, and where not, and when the naturall is more
commendable than the artificiall in any humane action or workmanship, we
wil examine it further by this distinction.
In some cases we say arte is an ayde and coadiutor to nature, and a
furtherer of her actions to good effect, or peraduenture a meane to supply
her wants, by renforcing the causes wherein shee is impotent and
defectiue, as doth the arte of phisicke, by helping the naturall
concoction, retention, distribution, expulsion, and other vertues, in a
weake and vnhealthie bodie. Or as the good gardiner seasons his soyle by
sundrie sorts of compost: as mucke or marle, clay or sande, and many times
by bloud, or lees of oyle or wine, or stale, or perchaunce with more
costly drugs: and waters his plants, and weedes his herbes and floures,
and prunes his branches, and vnleaues his boughes to let in the sunne: and
twentie other waies cherisheth them, and cureth their infirmities, and so
makes that neuer, or very seldome any of them miscarry, but bring foorth
their flours and fruites in season. And in both these cases it is no smal
praise for the Phisition & Gardiner to be called good and cunning
artificers.
In another respect arte is not only an aide and coadiutor to nature in all
her actions, but an alterer of them, and in some sort a surmounter of her
skill, so as by meanes of it her owne effects shall appeare more
beautifull or straunge and miraculous, as in both cases before remembred.
The Phisition by the cordials hee will geue his patient, shall be able not
onely to restore the decayed spirites of man and render him health, but
also to prolong the terme of his life many yeares ouer and aboue the stint
of his first and naturall constitution. And the Gardiner by his arte will
not onely make an herbe, or flowr, or fruite, come forth in his season
without impediment, but also will embellish the same in vertue, shape,
odour and taste, that nature of her selfe woulde neuer haue done: as to
make the single gillifloure, or marigold, or daisie, double: and the white
rose, redde, yellow, or carnation, a bitter mellon sweete; a sweete apple,
soure; a plumme or cherrie without a stone; a peare without core or
kernell, a goord or coucumber like to a horne, or any other figure he
will: any of which things nature could not doe without mans help and arte.
These actions also are most singular, when they be most artificiall.
In another respect, we say arte is neither an aider nor a surmounter, but
onely a bare immitatour of natures works, following and counterfeyting her
actions and effects, as the Marmesot doth many countenances and gestures
of man, of which sorte are the artes of painting and keruing, whereof one
represents the naturall by light colour and shadow in the superficiall or
flat, the other in body massife expressing the full and emptie, euen,
extant, rabbated, hollow, or whatsoeuer other figure and passion of
quantitie. So also the Alchimist counterfeits gold, siluer, and all other
mettals, the Lapidarie pearles and pretious stones by glasse and other
substances falsified, and sophisticate by arte. These men also be praised
for their craft, and their credit is nothing empayred, to say that their
conclusions and effects are very artificiall. Finally in another respect
arte is as it were an encountrer and contrary to nature, producing effects
neither like to hers, nor by participation with her operations, nor by
imitation of her paternes, but makes things and produceth effects
altogether strange and diuerse, & of such forme & qualitie (nature alwaies
supplying stuffe) as she neuer would nor could haue done of her selfe, as
the carpenter that builds a house, the ioyner that makes a table or a
bedstead, the tailor a garment, the Smith a locke or a key, and a number
of like, in which case the workman gaineth reputation by his arte, and
praise when it is best expressed & most apparant, & most studiously. Man
also in all his actions that be not altogether naturall, but are gotten by
study & discipline or exercise, as to daunce by measures, to sing by note,
to play on the lute, and such like, it is a praise to be said an
artificiall dauncer, singer, & player on instruments, because they be not
exactly knowne or done, but by rules & precepts or teaching of
schoolemasters. But in such actions as be so naturall & proper to man, as
he may become excellent therein without any arte or imitation at all,
(custome and exercise excepted, which are requisite to euery action not
numbred among the vitall or animal) and wherein nature should seeme to do
amisse, and man suffer reproch to be found destitute of them: in those to
shew himselfe rather artificiall then naturall, were no lesse to be
laughed at, then for one that can see well inough, to vse a paire of
spectacles, or not to heare but by a trunke put to his eare, nor feele
without a paire of ennealed glooues, which things in deed helpe an infirme
sence, but annoy the perfit, and therefore shewing a disabilitie naturall
mooue rather to scorne then commendation, and to pitie sooner then to
prayse. But what else is language and vtterance, and discourse &
persuasion, and argument in man, then the vertues of a well constitute
body and minde, little lesse naturall then his very sensuall actions,
sauing that the one is perfited by nature at once, the other not without
exercise & iteration? Peraduenture also it wil be granted, that a man sees
better and discernes more brimly his collours, and heares and feeles more
exactly by vse and often hearing and feeling and seing, & though it be
better to see with spectacles then not to see at all, yet is their praise
not egall nor in any mans iudgement comparable: no more is that which a
Poet makes by arte and precepts rather then by naturall instinct: and that
which he doth by long meditation rather then by a suddaine inspiration, or
with great pleasure and facillitie then hardly (and as they are woont to
say) in spite of Nature or Minerua, then which nothing can be more irksome
or ridiculous.
And yet I am not ignorant that there be artes and methods both to speake
and to perswade and also to dispute, and by which the naturall is in some
sorte relieued, as th'eye by his spectacle, I say relieued in his
imperfection, but not made more perfit then the naturall, in which respect
I call those artes of Grammer, _Logicke_, and _Rhetorick_ not bare
imitations, as the painter or keruers craft and worke in a forraine
subiect viz. a liuely purtraite in his table of wood, but by long and
studious obseruation rather a repetition or reminiscens naturall, reduced
into perfection, and made prompt by use and exercise. And so whatsoeuer a
man speakes or perswades he doth it not by imitation artificially, but by
obseruation naturally (though one follow another) because it is both the
same and the like that nature doth suggest: but if a popingay speake, she
doth it by imitation of mans voyce artificially and not naturally being
the like, but not the same that nature doth suggest to man. But now
because our maker or Poet is to play many parts and not one alone, as
first to deuise his plat or subiect, then to fashion his poeme, thirdly to
vse his metricall proportions, and last of all to vtter with pleasure and
delight, which restes in his maner of language and stile as hath bene
said, whereof the many moodes and straunge phrases are called figures, it
is not altogether with him as with the crafts man, nor altogither
otherwise then with the crafts man, for in that he vseth his metricall
proportions by appointed and harmonicall measures and distaunces, he is
like the Carpenter or Ioyner, for borrowing their tymber and stuffe of
nature, they appoint and order it by art otherwise then nature would doe,
and worke effects in apparance contrary to hers. Also in that which the
Poet speakes or reports of another mans tale or doings, as _Homer_ of
_Priamus_ or _Vlisses_, he is as the painter or keruer that worke by
imitation and representation in a forrein subiect, in that he speakes
figuratiuely, or argues subtillie, or perswades copiously and vehemently,
he doth as the cunning gardiner that vsing nature as a coadiutor, furders
her conclusions & many times makes her effectes more absolute and
straunge. But for that in our maker or Poet, which restes onely in deuise
and issues from an excellent sharpe and quick inuention, holpen by a
cleare and bright phantasie and imagination, he is not as the painter to
counterfaite the naturall by the like effects and not the same, nor as the
gardiner aiding nature to worke both the same and the like, nor as the
Carpenter to worke effects vtterly vnlike, but euen as nature her selfe
working by her owne peculiar vertue and proper instinct and not by example
or meditation or exercise as all other artificers do, is then most admired
when he is most naturall and least artificiall. And in the feates of his
language and vtterance, because they hold as well of nature to be
suggested and vttered as by arte to be polished and reformed. Therefore
shall our Poet receaue prayse for both, but more by knowing of his arte
then by vnseasonable vsing it, and be more commended for his naturall
eloquence then for his artificiall, and more for his artificiall well
desembled, then for the same ouermuch affected and grossely or vndiscretly
bewrayed, as many makers and Oratours do.
_The Conclusion_.
And with this (my most gratious soueraigne Lady) I make an end, humbly
beseeching your pardon, in that I haue presumed to hold your eares so long
annoyed with a tedious trifle so as vnlesse it preecede more of your owne
Princely and naturall mansuetude then of my merite. I feare greatly least
you may thinck of me as the Philosopher Plato did of _Anueris_ an
inhabitant of the Citie _Cirene_, who being in troth a very actiue and
artificiall man in driuing of a Princes Charriot or Coche (as your
Maiestie might be) and knowing it himselfe well enough, comming one day
into Platos schoole, and hauing heard him largely dispute in matters
Philosophicall, I pray you (quoth he) geue me leaue also to say somewhat
of myne arte, and in deede shewed so many trickes of his cunning how to
lanche forth and stay, and chaunge pace, and turne and winde his Coche,
this way and that way, vphill downe hill, and also in euen or rough
ground, that he made the whole assemblie wonder at him. Quoth Plato being
a graue personage, verely in myne opinion this man should be vtterly vnfit
for any seruice of greater importance then to driue a Coche. It is great
pitie that so prettie a fellow, had not occupied his braynes in studies of
more consequence. Now I pray God it be not thought so of me in describing
the toyes of this our vulgar art. But when I consider how euery thing hath
his estimation by oportunitie, and that it was but the studie of my yonger
yeares in which vanitie raigned. Also that I write to the pleasure of a
Lady and a most gratious Queene, and neither to Priestes nor to Prophetes
or Philosophers. Besides finding by experience, that many times idlenesse
is lesse harmefull then vnprofitable occupation, dayly seeing how these
great aspiring mynds and ambitious heads of the world seriously searching
to deale in matters of state, be often times so busie and earnest that
they were better be vnoccupied and peraduenture althgether idle, I presume
so much vpon your Maiesties most milde and gracious iudgement howsoeuer
you conceiue of myne abilitie to any better or greater seruice, that yet
in this attempt ye wil allow of my loyall and good intent alwayes
endeuouring to do your Maiestie the best and greatest of those seruices I
can.
A Table of the Chapters in this booke,
and euery thing in them conteyned.
What a Poet and Poesie is, and who may be said the most
excellent Poet in our time. fol. 1
Whether there may be an arte of our English or vulgar Poesie. 3
How Poets were the first Priests, the first Prophets,
the first Legis-lators and Polititiens in the world. 3
How Poets were the first Philosophers, the first Astronomeers,
and Historiographers, and Orators, and Musicians in the world. 5
How euery wilde and sauadge people vse a kind of natural Poesie
in versiete and rime, as our vulgar is. 7
Whence the riming Poesie came first to the Greekes and Latines,
and how it had altered, and almost spilt their maner of Poesie. 7
How in the time of Charlemaynes raigne and many yeares after him,
the Latine Poets wrote in rime. 8
In what reputation Poets and Poesie were in the old time with
Princes, and otherwise generally, & how they be now become
contemptible, and for what causes. 11
How Poesie shoulde not be employed vpon vaine conceits,
nor specially those that bee vicious or infamous. 18
The subiect or matter of Poesie, what it is. 18
Of Poems and their sundrie sortes, and how thereby the
auncient Poets receaued Surnames. 19
In what forms of Poesie the gods of the gentils were praysed
and honored. 21
In what forme of Poesie vice, & the common abases of mans life
were reprehended. 24
How the Poesie for reprehension of vice, was reformed by two
manner of Poems, more euill than the first. 25
In what forme of Poesie the euill and outrageous behauiours
of Princes were reprehended. 25
In what forme of Poesie the great Princes and dominators
of the world were praised and honoured. 27
Of the places where in auncient time their enterludes and other
Poemes drammaticke were represented vnto the people. 28
Of the shepheards or pastorall poesie called Egologue, and
to what purpose it was first inuented and deuised. 30
Of historicall Poesie, by which the famous acts of princes and
the vertuous and worthy liues of our forefathers were reported. 31
In what forms of poesie vertue in the inferior sort was commended. 34
The forme wherein honest & profitable arts and sciences were treated. 35
In what forme of poesie the amarous affections and entertainments
were vttered. 36
The forme of poeticall reiocings. 36
The forme of poeticall lamentations. 37
The solemne reioysings at the birth and natiuitie of princes children. 40
The manner of reioysing at weddings and marriages, specially of great
Ladies and Gentlewomen and Dames of honour. 40
The manner of poesie by which they vttered their bitter tauntes
or priuy nippes, and witty scoffes and other merry conceits. 43
What manner of poeme they vsed for memorial of the dead. 45
An auncient forme of poesie by which men did vse to reproch their
enimies. 46
Of the short poeme called with vs posie. 47
Who in any age have beene the most commended writers in our English
poesie, and the Authors censure giuen vpon them. 48
The Table of the second booke.
Of proportion poeticall. fol. 53
Of proportion in Staff. 54
Of proportion in Measure. 55
How many sortes of measures we use in our vulgar. 58
Of the distinctions of mans voice and pauses allowed to our speech,
& of the first pause called Ceszure. 61
Of proportion in concord called Rime. 63
Of accent, stirre and time, evidently perceyued in the distinction
of mans voice, and in that which maketh the flowing of a Meetre. 64
Of your Cadences in which the meeter is made Symphonicall, &
when they be most sweet and solemne. 65
How the good maker will not wrench his word to helpe his rime,
either by falsifying his accent or his Ortographie. 67
Of concord in long and short measures, & by neare or farre
distances, and which of them is most commendable. 68
Of proportion by situation. 69
Of proportion in figure. 75
How if all manner of suddaine innouations were not very scandalous,
specially in the lawes of any language, the use of the Greeke
and Latine feet might be brought into our vulgar poesie &
with good grace inough. 85
A more particular declaration of the Metricall feete of the Greekes
and Latines, and of your feete of two times. 91
Of the feet of three times, and what vse we may haue of them
in our vulgar. 103
Of all the other of three times besides the Dactill. 106
Of your halfe foote in a verse & those verses which they called
perfect and defective. 107
Of the breaking of your wordes of many sillables, & when & how
it is to be vsed. 108
The Table of the third booke.
Of ornament poeticall and that it resteth in figures. 114
How our writing & speeches publique ought to be figuratiue,
and if they be not doo greatly disgrace the cause and
purpose of the speaker and writer. 115
How ornament poeticall is of two sortes according to the
double nature and efficacy of figures. 119
Of language and what speech our maker ought to vse. 119
Of stile, and that it is of three kindes, loftie, meane,
and low according to the nature of the subiect. 123
Of the loftie, meane, and low subiect. 127
Of figures and figuratiue speeches. 128
Sixe points set downe by our learned forefathers for a generall
rule or regiment of all good vtterance, be it by mouth or by
writing. 129
How the Greekes first and afterwardes the Latines inuented
new names for euery figure, which this Author is also enforced
to do in his vulgar arte. 130
A diuision of figures and how they serue in exornation of language. 131
Of Auricular figures apperteyning to single words and working by
their diuers sounds and audible tunes, alteration to the eare
onely and not to the minde. 134
Of Auricular figures perteyning to clawses of speech, and by
them working no little alteration to the eare. 135
Of Auricular figures working by disorder. 140
Of Auricular figures working by surplusage. 141
Of Auricular figures working by exchange. 142
Of Auricular figures that serue to make the meetre tuneable and
melodious, but not by defect nor surplusage, disorder nor exchange. 145
The names of your figures Auricular.