in honour of the admirable and singular virtues of his Lady.
To the imitation of the best Latin Poets, and others.
WHEREUNTO IS ADDED The Rising to the Crown of RICHARD THE THIRD.
_Auxit Musarum numerum SAPPHO addita Musis. Fælix si sævus, sic
voluisset Amor._
In the First of the _Piscatory Eclogues_, which PHINEAS
FLETCHER included in the Volume containing his _Purple
Island_, printed at Cambridge in 1633 in 4to; he clearly
describes, in the person of THELGON, the career of
his father, GILES FLETCHER the Elder, LL.D.: who went
English Ambassador to Muscovy; and, on his return home,
published, in 1591, a book entitled _Of the Russ Common
Wealth_; which was quickly suppressed, lest it might give
offence to the Czar.
The Ninth Stanza of this First _Piscatory Eclogue_ thus
begins:
And whether Nature, joined with Art, had wrought me;
Or I too much believed the Fisher's praise;
Or whether PHŒBUS self, or Muses, taught me;
Too much inclined to Verse and music Plays:
So far credulity and youth had brought me,
I sang....
THELGON then specifies the subjects of his Latin and
English Poems: amongst which, in the next Stanza, occurs
this line:
And raised my rhyme to sing of _RICHARD's climbing_.
Upon this allusion the authorship of _LICIA_ is ascribed
to PHINEAS FLETCHER's father.
The original edition of these Poems is undated. It was
printed (? privately printed) however about September
1593; as will be seen from the date on pages 419, 423.
_Ad Amorem._
Si cœlum patria est puer beatum,
Si vero peperit VENUS benigna,
Si Nectar tibi Massicum ministrat;
Si sancta Ambrosia est cibus petitus,
Quid noctes habitas, diesque mecum?
Quid victum face supplicemque aduris?
Quid longam lachrimis sitim repellis?
Quid nostræ dape pasceris medullæ?
O vere rabidum genus færarum:
O domo stige patriaque digne:
Jam levis sumus umbra, quid lacessis?
_Ad Lectorem._
Non convitia, nec latrationes,
Nec Ronchos timeo, calumniasve,
Nec ullos obelos severiores.
Non quod judicio meo Poeta
Sim tantus, nihil ut queat reprehendi:
Sed quod judicio meo Poeta
Sim tam ridiculus, parumque doctus,
Ut nullum fore judicem eruditum,
Meos carpere qui velit labores:
Nam quis Æthiopem velit lavare?
_To the Worshipful, kind, wise, and
virtuous Lady, the Lady MOLLINEUX,
Wife to the right Worshipful
Sir RICHARD MOLLINEUX Knight._
HOWSOEVER, in the settled opinions of some wise heads, this trifling
labour may easily incur the suspicion of two evils; either to be of
an idle subject, and so frivolous; or vainly handled, and so odious:
yet my resolute purpose was to proceed so far as the indifferent
[_impartial_] Reader might think this small pains to be rather an
effect, than a cause, of idleness. And howsoever LOVE, in this Age,
hath behaved himself in that loose manner as it is counted a disgrace
to give him but a kind look: yet I take the passion in itself to be of
that honour and credit as it is the perfect resemblance of the greatest
happiness; and rightly valued at his just price, in a mind that is
sincerely and truly amorous, an affection of the greatest virtue, and
able of himself to eternize the meanest vassal.
Concerning the handling of it, especially in this Age, men may wonder,
if a Scholar, How I come by so much leisure? If otherwise, Why a
Writer? Indeed to say truth, though I cannot justly challenge the first
name; yet I wish none to be Writers, save only such as know Learning.
And whereas my thoughts and some reasons drew me rather to have dealt
in causes of greater weight; yet the present jar of this disagreeing
Age drives me into a fit so melancholy as I only had leisure to grow
passionate. And I see not why, upon our dissensions, I may not sit down
idle, forsake my study, and go sing of Love; as well as our Brownists
forsake the Church, and write of malice.
And that this is a matter not so unfit for a man, either that
respecteth himself, or is a Scholar; peruse but the writings of former
times: and you shall see, not only others in other countries, as Italy
and France, Men of Learning and great parts to have written Poems and
Sonnets of Love; but even amongst us, men of best nobility and chiefest
families to be the greatest Scholars and most renowned in this kind.
But two reasons hath made it a thing foolishly odious in this Age.
The one, that so many base companions are the greatest Writers. The
other, that our English Genevian Purity hath quite debarred us of
honest recreation: yet the great Pillar, as they make him [_i.e._ JEAN
CALVIN], of that Cause hath shewed us as much wit and learning in this
kind as any other before or since.
Furthermore for all students, I will say thus much; that the
base conceit which men generally have of their wants is such, as
I scarce term him a Scholar that hath not all the accomplyments
[_accomplishments_] of a Gentleman; nor sufficiently wise that will
not take opportunity in some sort to shew it. For I can say thus much,
that the University wherein I lived [_evidently Cambridge_], and so I
think the other [_Oxford_], hath so many wise, excellent, sufficient,
men as, setting their learning aside wherein they are most excellent,
yet in all habiliments of a Gentleman they are equal to any besides.
This would that worthy SYDNEY oft confess; and [Sir JOHN] HARINGTON's
_ARIOSTO_ (which, Madam, was respected so much by you) sheweth that his
abode was in King's College [Cambridge]. Yet now it is grown to this
pass, that Learning is lightly respected; upon a persuasion that it is
to be found everywhere: a thing untrue and unpossible.
Now in that I have written Love Sonnets; if any man measure my
affection by my style, let him say, I am in love. No great matter! For
if our purest Divines have not been so, why are so many married? I
mislike not that, nor I would not have them mislike this. For a man may
be in love, and not marry; and yet wise: but he cannot marry and not be
in love, but be a mere fool.
Now for the manner. We will dispute that in some other place; yet take
this by the way: though I am so liberal to grant thus much--a man may
write of Love and not be in love; as well as of husbandry and not go
to the plough; or of witches and be none; or of holiness and be flat
profane.
But, wise and kind Lady, not to trouble your ears with this idle
discourse, let this suffice. I found favours undeserved in such manner
as my rude ability wants means to recompence; and therefore in the
mean time I request you to accept this. If I had not so wondered at
your admirable and rare virtues that my heart was surcharged with the
exceeding measure of your worthiness, I had not written. You are happy
every way, and so reputed. Live so, and I wish so you may live long!
Excuse me, favour me: and, if I live (for I loath to admire without
thankfulness), ere long it shall be known what favours I received from
wise Sir RICHARD; to whom in all kind affects I rest bound.
For the Reader, if he look for my letters to crave his favour; he is
far deceived. For if he mislike anything, I am sorry he took the pains
to read: but if he do, let him dispraise; I much care not. For praise
is not but as men please, and it is no chief felicity. For I have heard
some men, and of late, for Sermons at Paul's Cross and for other pains,
so commended by all, excepting some few Cynics that commend none that
do well, that you would have thought England would have striven for
their speedy preferment: but, like a wonder, it last but nine days;
and all is quiet and forgotten. The best is, they are young men and
may live to be preferred at another time. So what am I worse if men
mislike and use terms? I can say as much by them. For our great men, I
am sure, they want leisure to read: and if they had; yet, for the most
part, the worst speak worst.
Well let the Printer look he grow not a beggar by such bargains, the
Reader that he lose not his labour, and for mine that is past! And
whoso wisely, after an afternoon's sleep, gapes, and saith, "O how
young men spend their time idly!"; first, let him spend his time better
than to sleep: secondly, he knows not my age. I feared a hot ague; and,
with TASSO, I was content to let my Wit blood.
But leaving these to their dogged humour; and wishing your Ladyship all
happiness, I humbly take my leave.
From my chamber. September 4, 1593.
[Illustration]
_To the Reader._
I HAD thought, courteous and gentle Reader, not to have troubled thy
patience with these lines: but that, in the neglect thereof, I should
either scorn thee, as careless of thine opinion, a thing savouring of
a proud humour; or despair to obtain thy favour, which I am loath to
conceive of thy good nature.
If I were known, I would entreat in the best manner; and speak for him
whom thou knewest. But being not known, thou speakest not against me;
and therefore I much care not. For this kind of poetry wherein I wrote,
I did it only to try my humour. And for the matter of Love, it may be I
am so devoted to some one into whose hands these may light by chance,
that she may say, which thou now sayest "That surely he is in love:"
which if she do, then have I the full recompence of my labour; and the
Poems have dealt sufficiently for the discharge of their own duty.
This Age is learnedly wise, and faultless in this kind of making their
wits known: thinking so basely of our bare English, wherein thousands
have travailed with such ill luck, that they deem themselves barbarous
and the island barren, unless they have borrowed from Italy, Spain, and
France their best and choicest conceits. For my own part, I am of this
mind that our nation is so exquisite (neither would I overweeningly
seem to flatter our home-spun stuff, or diminish the credit of our
brave travellers) that neither Italy, Spain, nor France can go beyond
us for exact invention. For if anything be odious amongst us, it is the
exile of our old manners, and some base-born phrases stuft up with such
new terms, as a man may sooner feel us to flatter by our incrouching
eloquence than suspect it from the ear.
* * * * *
And for the matter of Love, where every man takes upon himself to court
exactly; I could justly grace (if it be a grace to be excellent in that
kind) the Inns of Court, and some Gentlemen like[wise] Students in
both Universities: whose learning and bringing up together with their
fine natures make so sweet a harmony as, without partiality, the most
injurious will prefer them before all others; and therefore they only
are fitted to write of Love.
For others, for the most part, are men of mean reach, whose debased
minds prey upon every bad dish. Men unfit to know what Love means;
deluded fondly with their own conceit, misdeeming so divine a fancy;
taking it to be the contentment of themselves, the shame of others, the
wrong of virtue; and the refiner of the tongue, boasting of some few
favours. These and such like errors (errors hateful to an upright mind)
commonly by learnless heads are reputed for Love's Kingdom. But vain
men, naturally led; deluded themselves, [they] deceive others.
For Love is a goddess (pardon me though I speak like a Poet) not
respecting the contentment of him that loves but the virtues of the
beloved, satisfied with wondering, fed with admiration, respecting
nothing but his Lady's worthiness, made as happy by love as by all
favours, chaste by honour, far from violence: respecting but one; and
that one in such kindness honesty truth constancy and honour, as were
all the World offered to make a change, yet the boot were too small,
and therefore bootless. This is Love, and far more than this; which I
know a vulgar head, a base mind, an ordinary conceit, a common person
will not, and cannot, have. Thus do I commend that love wherewith, in
these Poems, I have honoured the worthy LICIA.
But the love wherewith VENUS' son hath injuriously made spoil
of thousands, is a cruel Tyrant: occasion of sighs, oracle of lies,
enemy of pity, way of error, shape of inconstancy, temple of treason,
faith without assurance, monarch of tears, murderer of ease, prison of
hearts, monster of Nature, poisoned honey, impudent courtezan, furious
bastard: and in one word, not Love.
Thus, Reader, take heed thou err not! Esteem Love as thou ought[est]!
* * * * *
If thou muse, What my LICIA is? Take her to be some
DIANA, at the least chaste; or some MINERVA: no
VENUS, fairer far. It may be she is Learning's Image, or some
heavenly wonder: which the Precisest may not mislike. Perhaps under
that name I have shadowed "[The Holy] Discipline." It may be, I mean
that kind courtesy which I found at the Patroness of these Poems,
it may be some College. It may be my conceit, and pretend nothing.
Whatsoever it be; if thou like it, take it! and thank the worthy Lady
MOLLINEUX, for whose sake thou hast it: worthy indeed, and so
not only reputed by me in private affection of thankfulness; but so
equally to be esteemed by all that know her.
For if I had not received of her and good Sir RICHARD, of kind and wise
Master LEE, of courteous Master HOUGHTON, all matchless, matched in one
kindred, those unrequitable favours; I had not thus idly toyed.
If thou mislike it; yet she, or they, or both, or divine LICIA
shall patronize it: or if none; I will, and can, do it myself. Yet I
wish thy favour. Do but say, Thou art content; and I rest thine. If
not, Farewell! till we both meet. September 8. 1593.
[Illustration]
_To LICIA,
the wise, kind, virtuous, and fair._
BRIGHT matchless Star, the honour of the sky!
From whose clear shine heaven's vault hath all his light.
I send these Poems to your graceful eye.
Do you but take them, and they have their right.
I build besides a Temple to your name,
Wherein my thoughts shall daily sing your praise;
And will erect an Altar for the same,
Which shall, your virtues and your honour raise.
But heaven, the Temple of your honour is;
Whose brazen tops your worthy self made proud:
The ground an Altar, base for such a bliss,
With pity torn, because I sighed so loud.
And since my skill no worship can impart;
Make you an incense of my loving heart!