THe learned Plutarch in his Laconicall Apothegmes, tels of a So­phister that made a long and tedious Oration in praise of Hercules, and expecting at the end thereof for some great thankes and ap­plause of the hearers, a certaine Lacedemonian demanded him, who had dispraised Hercules? Me thinkes the like may be now said to me, taking vpon me the defence of Poesie: for surely if learning in generall were of that account among vs, as it ought to be a [...]ong all men, and is among wise men, then should this my Apologie of Poesie (the very first nurse and auncient grandmother of all learning) be as vaine and supersluous as was that Sophisters, because it might then be answered and truly answe­red, that no man disgraced it. But sith we liue in such a time, in which nothing can escape the enuious tooth and backiting tongue of an impure mouth, and wherein euery blind corner hath a squint-eyed Zoilus, that can looke aright vpon no mans doings, (yea sure there be some that will not sticke to call Hercules himselfe a dastard, because forsooth he fought with a club and not at the rapier and dagger:) therefore I thinke no man of iudge­ment will iudge this my labour needlesse, in seeking to remoue away those slaunders that either the malice of those that loue it not, or the folly of those that vnderstand it not, hath deuised against it: for indeed as the old saying is, Scientia non habet inimicum praeter ignoran­tem: Knowledge hath no soe but the ignorant. The diuision of the Apologie [...] three parts. But now because I make account I haue to deale with three sundrie kinds of reprouers, one of those that condemne all Poetrie, which (how strong head soeuer they haue) I count but a very weake faction; another of those that allow Poetrie, but not this particular Poeme, of which kind sure there cannot be many: a third of those that can beare with the art, and like of the worke, but will find fault with my not well handling of it, which they may not onely probably, but I doubt too truly do, being a thing as commonly done as said, that where the hedge is lowest, there doth euery man go ouer. Therefore against these three I must arme me with the best de­fensiue weapons I can: and if I happen to giue a blow now and then in mine owne defence, and as good fencers vse to ward and strike at once, I must craue pardon of course, seeing our law allowes that is done se defendendo: and the law of nature teacheth vim vi repellere. First therefore of Poetrie it selfe, Of Poetrie. for those few that generally disallow it, might be sufficient to alledge those many that generally approue it, of which I could bring in such an armie, not of souldiers, but of famous Kings and captaines, as not onely the sight, but the very sound of them were able to vanquish and dismay the small forces of our aduersaries. For who would once dare to oppose himselfe against so many Alexanders, Caesars, Scipios, (to omit infinite other Princes, both of former and later ages, and of forraine and nearer countries) that with fauour, with studie, with practise, with example, with honors, with gifts, with preferments, with great and magnificent cost, haue encouraged and aduanced Poets and Poetrie? As witnesse the huge Theaters and Amphitheaters, monuments of stupendi­ous charge, made onely for Tragedies and Comedies, the workes of Poets to be represen­ted on: but all these aides and defences I leaue as supersluous, my cause I count so good, and the euidence so open, that I neither need to vse the countenance of any great state to bolster it, nor the cunning of any suttle lawyer to enforce it: my meaning is plainely [Page] and bonafide, confessing all the abuses that can truly be obiected against some kind of Poets, to shew you what good vse there is of Poetrie. Neither do I suppose it to be greatly be­houefull for this purpose, to trouble you with the curious definitions of a Poet and Poesie, and with the subtill distinctions of their sundrie kinds, nor to dispute how high and super­naturall the name of a Maker is, so christned in English by that vnknowne Godfather, that this last yeare saue one, viz. 1589. set forth a booke, called the Art of English Poetrie: and least of all do I purpose to bestow any long time to argue, whether Plato, Zenophon and E­rasmus, writing fictions and dialogues in prose, may iustly be called Poes; or whether Lucan writing a storie in verse be an Historiographer, or whether Master Faire translating Virgil, Master Golding translating Ouids Metamorphosis, and my selfe in this worke that you see, be any more then versifiers, as the same Ignoto termeth all translators: for as for all, or the most part of such questions, I will referre you to Sir Philip Sidneys Apologie, who doth han­dle them right learnedly, or to the forenamed treatise, where they are discoursed more large­ly, and where, as it were a whole receit of Poetrie is prescribed, with so many new named fi­gures, as would put me in great hope in this age to come would breed many excellent Po­ets, saue for one obseruation that I gather out of the very same booke. For though the poore gentleman laboreth greatly to proue, or rather to make Poetrie an art, and reciteth as you may see in the plurall number, some pluralities of patternes, and parcels of his owne Poe­trie, with diuers peeces of Partheniads and hymnes in praise of the most praise-worthy: yet whatsoeuer he would proue by all these, sure in my poore opinion he doth proue nothing more plainely, then that which M. Sidney and all the learneder sort that haue written of it do pronounce, namely that it is a gift and not an art; I say he proueth it, because making himselfe and many others so cunning in the art, yet he sheweth himself so slender a gift in it, deseruing to be commended as Martiall praiseth one that he compares to Tully:

But to come to the purpose, and to speake after the phrase of the common sort, that terme all that is written in verse Poetrie, and rather in scorne then in praise, bestow the name of a Poet on euery base rimer and ballad-maker: this I say of it, and I thinke I say truly, that there are many good lessons to be learned out of it, many good examples to be found in it, many good vses to be had of it, and that therefore it is not, nor ought not to be despised by the wiser sort, but so to be studied and employed, as was intended by the first writers and de­uisers thereof, which is to soften and polish the hard and rough dispositions of men, and make them capable of vertue and good discipline.

I cannot denie but to vs that are Christians, in respect of the high end of all, which is the health of our soules, not onely Poetrie, but all other studies of Philosophie, are in a man­ner vaine and supersluous: yea (as the wise man faith) whatsoeuer is vnder the sunne is va­nitie of vanities, and nothing but vanitie. But sith we liue with men and not with saints, and because few men can embrace this strict and stoicall diuinitie, or rather indeed, for that the holy Scriptures, in which those high mysteries of our saluation are contained, are a deepe and profound studie, and not subiect to euery weake capacitie, no nor to the highest wits and iudgements, except they be first illuminate by Gods spirit, or instructed by his teachers and preachers: therefore we do first reade some other authors, making them as it were a loo­king-glasse to the eyes of our mind; and then after we haue gathered more strength, we enter into profounder studies of higher mysteries, hauing first as it were enabled our eyes by long beholding the sunne in a bason of water, at last to looke vpon the sunne it selfe. So we reade how that great Moses, whose learning and sanctitie is so renowned o­uer all nations, was first instructed in the learning of the Aegyptians, before he came to that high contemplation of God and familiaritie (as I may so terme it) with God. So the notable Prophet Daniel was brought vp in the learning of the Chaldeans, and made that [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] the first step of his higher vocation to be a Prophet. If then we may by the example of two such speciall seruants of God, spend some of our yong yeares in studies of humanitie, what better and more sweet study is there for a yong man then Poetrie? specially Heroicall Poesie, that with her sweete statelinesse doth erect the mind, and lift it vp to the consideration of the highest matters; and allureth them, that of themselues would otherwise loth them, to take and swallow and digest the wholsome precepts of Philosophie, and many times euen of the true Diuinitie. Plutarch de audiendis Poetis. Wherefore Plutarch hauing written a whole treatise of the praise of Homers workes, and another of reading Poets, doth begin this latter with this comparison, that as men that are sickly and haue weake stomackes or daintie tastes, do many times thinke that flesh most delicate to eate, that is not flesh, and those fishes that be not fish: so yong men (saith he) do like best that Philosophie that is not Philosophie, or that is not deliuered as Phi­losophie: and such are the pleasant writings of learned Poets, that are the popular Philoso­phers and the popular Diuines. Tasso. Canto 1. staffe 3. Likewise Tasso in his excellent worke of Ierusalem Liberato, likeneth Poetrie to the Physicke that men giue vnto little children when they are sicke: his verse is this in Italian, speaking to God with a pretie Prosopopeia:

This is then that honest fraud, in which (as Plutarch saith) he that is deceiued is wiser then he that is not deceiued, and he that doth deceiue, is honester then he that doth not deceiue.

But briefly to answer to the chiefe obiections, Agrippa de vanitate scientiarum. cap. 4. Cornelius Agrippa, a man of learning and authoritie not to be despised, maketh a bitter inuectiue against Poets and Poesie, and the summe of his reproofe of it is this (which is all that can with any probablitie be said against it: Foure obiectiōs against Poetry.) That it is a nurse of lies, a pleaser of fooles, a breeder of dangerous errors, and an inticer to wantonnesse. I might here warne those that will vrge this mans authoritie to the disgrace of Poetrie, to take heed (of what calling soeuer they be) least with the same weapon that they thinke to giue Poetrie a blow, they giue themselues a maime. For Agrippa taketh his pleasure of greater matters then Poetrie: I maruell how he durst do it, saue that I see he hath done it, he hath spared neither myters nor scepters. The courts of Princes, where vertue is rewarded, iustice maintained, oppressions releeued, he cals them a Colledge of Giants, of tyrants, of oppressors, warriors: the most noble sort of noble men, he termeth cur­sed, bloudie, wicked, and sacrilegious persons. Noble men (and vs poore Gentlemen) that thinke to borrow praise of our auncestors deserts and good fame, he affirmeth to be a race of the sturdier sort of knaues, and licencious liuers. Treasurers and other great officers of the common wealth, with graue counsellers, whose wise heads are the pillars of the state, he af­firmeth generally to be robbers and peelers of the realme, and priuie traitors that sell their Princes fauours, and rob wel-deseruing seruitors of their reward. [Page] I omit as his peccadilia, how he nicknameth priests saying, for the most part they are hypo­crites; lawiers, saying they are all theeues; phisitians, saying they are many of them murthe­rers: so as I thinke it were a good motion, and would easily passe by the consent of the three estates, that this mans authoritie should be vtterly ad [...]ihilated, that dealeth so hardly and vniustly with all sorts of professions. But for the reiecting of his writings, I refer it to others that haue power to do it, and to condemne him for a generall libeller, but for that he writeth against Poetrie, Answer to the first of lying. I meane to speake a word or two in refuting thereof. And first for lying, I might if I list excuse it by the rule of Poetica licentia, and claime a priueledge giuen to Poe­trie, whose art is but an imitation (as Aristotle calleth it) and therefore are allowed to faine what they list, according to that old verse,

Thus you see, that Poets may lye if they list Cum priuilegio: but what if they lye least of all other men? what if they lye not at all? then I thinke that great slaunder is verie vniustly raised vpon them. For in my opinion they are said properly to lye, that affirme that to be true that is false: and how other arts can free themselues from this blame let them look that professe them: but Poets neuer affirming any for true, but presenting them to vs as fables and imitations, cannot lye though they would: and because this obiection of lyes is the chiefest, and that vpon which the rest be grounded, I wil stand the longer vpon the clearing thereof.

The ancient Poets haue indeed wrapped as it were in their writings diuers and sundrie meanings, which they call the sences or mysteries thereof. First of all for the literall sence (as it were the vtmost barke or ryne) they set downe in manner of an historie, the acts and notable exploits of some persons worthie memorie; then in the same fiction, as a second rine and somewhat more fine, as it were nearer to the pith and marrow, they place the Mo­rall sence, profitable for the actiue life of man [...], approuing vertuous actions, and condem­ning the contrarie. Manie times also vnder the selfesame words they comprehend some true vnderstanding of naturall Philosophíe, or sometime of politike gouernement, and now and then of diuinitie: and these same sences that comprehend so excellent know­ledge we call the Allegorie, which Plutarch defineth to be when one thing is told, and by that another is vnderstood. Now let any man iudge, if it be a matter of meane art or wit, to containe in one historicall narration either true or fained, so many, so diuerse, and so deepe conceits: but for making the matter more plaine I will alledge an example thereof.

Perseus sonne of Iupiter is fained by the Poets to haue slaine Gorgon, Ouids Meta [...]orph. 4. and after that conquest atchieued, to haue flowen vp to heauen. The Historicall sence is this, Perse­us the sonne of Iupiter, by the participation of Iupiters vertues that were in him; or rather comming of the stock of one of the kings of Creet, or Athens so called; slue Gorgon a tyrant in that countrey ( Gorgon in greeke signifieth earth) and was for his vertuous parts exalted by men vp into heauen. Morally it signifieth thus much, Perseus a wise man, sonne of Iupiter endewed with vertue from aboue, slayeth sinne and vice, a thing base and earthly; signified by Gorgon, and so mounteth to the skie of vertue: It signifies in one kinde of Allegorie thus much; the mind of man being gotten by God, and so the childe of God, killing and vanquishing the earthlinesse of this Gorgonicall nature, ascendeth vp to the vnderstanding of heauenly things, of high things, of eternall things, in which con­templation consisteth the perfection of man: this is the naturall allegorie, because man, one of [Page] the chiefe works of nature: It hath also a more high and heauenly Allegorie, that the hea­uenly nature, daughter of Iupiter, procuring with her continuall motion, corruption and mortalitie in the interiour bodies, seuered it selfe at last from these earthly bodies, and flew vp on high, and there remaineth for euer. It hath also another Theologicall Allegorie, that the angelicall nature, daughter of the most high God the creator of all things; killing and ouercomming all bodily substance, signified by Gorgon, ascended into heauen: the like infinite Allegories I could picke out of other Poeticall fictions, saue that I would auoid tediousnesse. It sufficeth me therefore to note this, that the men of greatest learning and highest wit in the auncient times, did of purpose conceale these deepe mysteries of learning, and as it were couer them with the veile of fables and verse for sundrie cau­ses: one cause was, that they might not be rashly abused by prophane wits, in whom sci­ence is corrupted, like good wine in a bad vessell: another cause why they wrote in verse, was conseruation of the memorie of their precepts, as we see yet the generall rules almost of euerie art, not so much as husbandrie, but they are of [...]ner recited and better remem­bred in verse then in prose: another, and a principall cause of all, is to be able with one kinde of meate and one dish (as I may so call it) to feed diuers-tastes. For the weaker ca­pacities will feed themselues with the pleasantnesse of the historie and sweetnes of the verse, some that haue stronger stomackes will as it were take a further tast of the Mo­ralisence, a third sort more high conceited then they, will digest the Allegorie: so as in­deed it hath bene thought by men of verie good iudgement, such manner of Poeticall writing was an excellent way to preserue all kinde of learning from that corruption which now it is come to since they left that mysticall writing of verse. Now though I know the example and authoritie of Aristotle and Plato be still vrged against this, who tooke to themselues another manner of writing: first I may say indeed that lawes were made for poore men, and not for Princes, for these two great Princes of Philosophie, brake that former allowed manner of writing, yet Plato still preserued the fable, but re­fused the verse. Aristotle though reiecting both, yet retained still a kinde of obscuritie, insomuch he answered Alexander, who reprooued him in a sort, for publishing the sa­cred secrets of Philosophie, that he had set forth his bookes in a sort, and yet not set them forth; meaning that they were so obscure that they would be vnderstood of few, except they came to him for instructions; or else without they were of verie good capacitie and studious of Philosophie. But (as I say) Plato howsoeuer men would make him an enemie of Poetrie (because he found indeed iust fault with the abuses of some comicall Poets of his time, or some that sought to set vp new and strange religions) yet you see he kept stil l that principall part of Poetrie, which is fiction and imitation; and as for the other part of Poetrie which is verse, though he vsed it not, yet his maister Socrates euen in his old age wrote certaine verses, as Plutarke restifieth: but because I haue named the two parts of Poetrie, namely inuention or fiction, and verse, let vs see how well we can au­thorise the vse of both these. First for fiction, against which as I told before, many in­uei [...]h, calling it by the foule name of lying, though notwithstanding, as I then said, it is farthest from it: Demosthenes the famous and renowned Orator, when he would perswade the Athenians to warre against Philip, told them a solemne tale how the Wolues on a time sent Ambassadors to the sheepe, offering them peace if they would deliuer vp the dogs that kept their folds, with all that long circumstance (needelesse to be repeated) by which he perswaded them far more strongly then if he should haue told them in plaine termes, that Philip sought to bereaue them of their chiefe bulwarks & defences, to haue the better abili­tie to ouerthrow them. But what need we fetch an authority so far off from heathen authors, that haue many neerer hand both in time and in place? Bishop Fisher a stout Prelat though I do not praise his Religion) when he was assaid by king Henrie the eight for his good will and assent for the suppression of Abbyes, the king alledging that he would but take away the superflu [...]ties, and let the substance stand still, or at least see it conuerted to better [Page] and more godly vses: the graue Bishop answered it in this kinde of Poeticall parable: He said there was an axe that wanting a helue came to a thicke and huge ouergrown wood, and be sought some of the great okes in that wood, to spare him so much timber as to make him a handle or helue, promising that if he might finde that fauour, he would in recompence thereof, haue great regard in preseruing that wood, in pruning the branches, in cu [...]ing away the vnprofitable and superfluous boughes, in paring away the b [...]yers and thornes that were combersome to the fayre trees, and making it in fine a groue of great delight and plea­sure: but when this same axe had obtained his su [...]e, he so laid about him, and so pared away both timber and top and lop, that in short space of a woodland he made it a champion, and made her liberalitie the instrument of her ouerthrow.

Now though this Bishop had no very good successe with his parable, yet it was so farre from being counted a lye, that it was plainly seene soone after that the same axe did both hew downe those woods by the roots, and pared him off by the head, and was a peece of Prophecie, as well as a peece of Poetrie: and indeed Prophets and Poets haue bene thought to haue a great affinitie, as the name Vates in Latin doth testifie. But to come againe to this manner of fiction or parable, the Prophet Nathan, reprouing king Dauid for his great sinne of adulterie and murther, doth he not come to him with a pretie parable, of a poore man and his lambe that lay in his bosome, and eat of his bread, and the rich man that had whole flocks of his owne would needs take it from him? In which as it is euident it was but a para­ble, so it were vnreuerent and almost blasphemous to say it was a lye. But to go higher, did not our Sauiour himselfe speake in parables? as that deuine parable of the sower, that com­fortable parable of the Prodigall sonne, that dreadfull parable of Diues and Lazarus, though I know of this last, many of the fathers hold that it is a storie indeed, and no parable. But in the rest it is manifest, that he that was all holinesse, all wisedome, all truth, vsed parables, and euen such as discreet Poets vse, where a good and honest and wholsome Allegorie is hidden in a pleasant and pretie fiction, Two parts of Poetr [...]e, Imitation or inuention, and Verse. and therefore for that part of Poetrie of Imitation, I thinke no body will make any question, but it is not onely allowable, but godly and com­mendable, if the Poets ill handling of it doe nor marre and peruert the good vse of it. The other part of Poetrie, which is Verse, as it were the clothing or ornament of it, hath many good vses; of the helpe of memorie I spake somewhat before; for the words being couched together in due order, measure, and number, one doth as it were bring on another, as my selfe haue often proued, and so I thinke do many beside, (though for my owne part I can rather bost of the marring a good memorie, then of hauing one,) yet I haue euer found, that Verse is easier to learne, and farre better to preserue in memorie, then is prose. Another speciall grace in Verse is the forcible manner of phrase, in which if it be well made, it farre excelleth loose speech or prose: a third is the pleasure and sweetenesse to the eare, which makes the discourse pleasant vnto vs often time when the matter it selfe is harsh and vn­acceptable; for my owne part I was neuer yet so good a husband, to take any delight to hear [...] one of mv ploughmen tell how an acre of wheat must be fallowd and twy fallowd, and how cold land should be burned, and how fruitfull land must be well harrowed, but when I heare one read Virgil where he saith:

And after.

With many other lessons of homely husbandrie, but deliuered in so good Verse that me [Page] thinkes all that while I could find in my heart to driue the plough. But now for the autho­ritie of Verse, if it be not sufficient to say for them, that the greatest Philosophers, and gra­uest Senatours that euer were, haue vsed them both in their speeches and in their writings, that precepts of all Arts haue beene deliuered in them, that verse is as auncient a writing as prose, and indeed more auncient, in respect that the oldest workes extant be verse, as Or­phaeus, Linus, Hesiodus, and others beyond memorie of man, or mention almost of historie; if none of these will serue for the credit of it, yet let this serue, that some part of the Scripture was written in verse, as the Psalmes of Dauid, and certaine other songs of Deborah, of Salo­mon and others, which the learnedest diuines do affirme to be verse, and find that they are in meeter, though the rule of the Hebrew verse they agree not on. Sufficeth it me onely to proue that by the authoritie of sacred Scriptures, both parts of Poesie, inuention or imitation, and verse are allowable, and consequently that great obiection of lying is quite taken away and refuted. Now the second obiection is pleasing of fooles; I haue already showed, how it dis­pleaseth not wise men, Answ [...]re to the s [...]ond ob­iection. now if it haue this vertue to, to please the fooles, and ignorant, I wold thinke this an article of prayse not of rebuke: wherefore I confesse that it pleaseth fooles and so pleaseth them, that if they marke it and obserue it well, it will in time make them wise, for in verse is both goodnesse and sweetnesse, Rubarb and Sugercandie, the pleasant and the profitable: wherefore as Horace sayth, Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit vtile dulci, he that can mingle the sweete and wholsome, the pleasant and the profitable, he is indeed an absolute good writer, & such be Poets, if any be such, they present vnto vs a prettie tale, able to keepe a childe from play, and an old man from the chimnie corner: Or as the same Horace saith, to a couetous man:

One tels a couetous man a tale of Tantalus, that sits vp to the chinne in water, and yet is plagued with thirst. This signifies the selfesame man to whom the tale is told, that wal­lows in plentie, and yet his miserable minde barres him of the vse of it: As my selfe knew and I am sure many remember Iustice Randall of London, a man passing impotent in body but much more in mind, that leauing behind him a thousand pounds of gold in a chest ful of old boots and shoes, yet was so miserable, that at my Lord Maiors dinner they say he would put vp a widgen for his supper, and many a good meale he did take of his franke neighbour the widdow Penne: but to come to the matter, this same great sinne that is laide to Poetrie of pleasing fooles, A [...] to [...] is fufficiently answered if it be worth the answering. Now for the bree­ding of errours which is the third Obiection, I see not why it should breed any when none is bound to beleeue that they write, nor they looke not to haue their fictions beleeued in the literall sence, aud therefore he that well examine whence errours spring, shall finde the writers of prose & not of verse, the authors and maintainers of them, and this point I count so manifest as it needes no proofe. The last reproofe is lightnes and wantonnes, this is indeed an Obiection of some importance, sith as Sir Philip Sidney confesseth, Cupido is crept euen into the Heroicall Poemes, & consequently maketh that also, subiect to this reproofe: I pro­mised in the beginning not partially to praise Poesie, but plainly and honestly to confesse that, that might truely be obiected against it, and if any thing may be, sure it is this lasciui­ousnesse; yet this I will say, that of all kinde of Poesie, the Heroicall is least infected there­with. The other kindes I will rather excuse then defend, though of all the kindes of Poesie it may be sayd, where any scurrilitie and lewdnesse is found, there Poetrie doth not abuse vs, but writers haue abused Poetrie. And brieflie to examine all the kindes: First the Tragicall is meerely free from it, as representing onely the cruell and lawlesse pro­ceedings of Princes, mouing nothing but pitie or detestation. The Comicall (whatsoeuer foolish play makers make it offend in this kind) yet being rightly vsed, it represents them [Page] so as to make the vice scorned and not embraced. The Satyrike is meerly free from it, as be­ing wholy occupied in mannerly and couertly reprouing of all vices. The Elegie is stil mour­ning: as for the Pastorall with the Sonnet or Epigramme, though many times they sauour of wantonnesse and loue and toying, and now and then breaking the rules of Poetrie, go in­to plaine scurrilitie, yet euen the worst of them may be not ill applied, and are, I must con­fesse, too delightfull, in so much as Martial saith,

And in another place,

Lucrecia (by which he signifies any chast matron) will blush and be ashamed to reade a lasciuious booke: but how? not except Brutus be by, that is, if any graue man should see her reade it; but if Brutus turne his backe, she will to it againe and reade it all. But to end this part of my Apologie, as I count and conclude Heroicall Poesie allowable, and to be read and studied without all exception: so may I boldly say, that Tragedies well handled, be a most worthy kind of Poesie; that Comedies may make men see and shame at their owne faults, that the rest may be so written and so read, as much pleasure and some profite may be gathered out of them. And for mine owne part, as Scaliger writeth of Virgil, so I beleeue, that the reading of a good Heroicall Poeme may make a man both wiser and honester: and for Tragedies, to omit other famous Tragedies, that that which was played at Saint Iohns in Cambridge, of Richard the third, would moue (I thinke) Phalaris the tyrant, and terrifie all tyrannous minded men, from following their foolish ambitious humors, seeing how his am­bition made him kill his brother, his nephewes, his wife, beside infinite others; and last of all after a short and troublesome raigne, to end his miserable life, and to haue his bodie har­ried after his death. Then for Comedies: how full of harmelesse mirth is our Cambridge Pe­dantius? and the Oxford Bellum Grammaticale? or to speake of a London Comedie, how much good matter, yea and matter of state, is there in that Comedie called the play of the Cards? in which it is shewed how foure Parasiticall knaues robbe the foure principall vo­cations of the Realme, videl, the vocation of Souldiers, Schollers, Merchants and Husband­men. Of which Comedie I cannot forget the saying of a notable wise counseller that is now dead, who when some (to sing Placebo) aduised that it should be forbidden, because it was somewhat too plaine, Sir Frances VValsingham. and indeed as the old saying is, sooth boord is no boord, yet he would haue it allowed, adding it was fit that they which do that they should not, should heare that they wold not. Finally, if Comedies may be so made as the beholders may be bettered by them, without all doubt all other sorts of Poetrie may bring their profite as they do bring delight; and if all, then much more the chiefe of all, which by all mens consent is the Heroicall. And thus much be said for Poesie.

Now for this Poeme of Orlando Furioso, which as I haue heard, hath bene disliked by some, though by few of any wit or iudgement, it followes that I say somewhat in defence thereof, The second part of the Apology. which I will do the more moderatly and coldly, by how much the paines I haue ta­ken in it (rising as you may see to a good volume) may make me seeme a more partiall prai­ser. Wherefore I will make choise of some other Poeme that is allowed and approued by all men, and a little compare them together: and what worke can serue this turne so fitly as Virgils Aeneados, whom aboue all other it seemeth my author doth follow, as appeares both by his beginning and ending. The one begins,

The other,

Virgil ends with the death of Turnus:

[Page] Ariosto ends with the death of Rodomont,

Virgil extolleth Aeneas to please Augustus, of whose race he was thought to come. A­riosto praiseth Rogero to the honour of the house of Este. Aeneas hath his Dido that retaineth him: Rogero hath his Alcina: finally left I should note euery part, there is nothing of any spe­ciall obseruation in Virgil, but my author hath with great felicitie imitated it, so as whoso­euer will allow Uirgil, must ipso facto (as they say) admit Ariosto. Now of what account Virgil is reckned, and worthily reckned, for ancient times witnesseth Augustu [...] Caesars verse of him:

Concluding thus,

This is a great praise, comming from so great a Prince. For later times, to omit Scaliger, whom I recited before, that affirmeth the reading of Virgil may make a man honest and ver­tuous: that excellent Italian Poet Dant professeth plainly, that when he wandred out of the right way (meaning thereby, when he liued fondly and loosly) Virgil was the first that made him looke into himselfe, and reclaime himselfe from that same dangerous and leud course. But what need we further witnesse, do we not make our children reade it commonly before they can vnderstand it, as a testimonie that we do generally approue it? and yet we see old men studie it, as a proofe that they do specially admire it: so as one writes very pretily, that children do wade in Uirgil, and yet strong men do swim in it.

Now to apply this to the praise of mine author, as I said before, so I say still, whatsoeuer is praise-worthy in Virgil, is plentifully to be found in Ariosto, and some things that Virgil could not haue for the ignorance of the age he liued in, you find in my author, sprinkled o­uer all his worke, as I will very briefly note, and referre you for the rest to the booke it selfe. The deuout and Christian demeanor of Charlemaine in the 14. booke with his prayer,

And in the beginning of the 17. booke that would be seeme any pulpit:

But aboue all, that in the 41. booke of the conuersion of Rogero to the Christian Religion, where the Hermit speaketh to him, containing in effect a ful instruction against presumption and despaire, which I haue set downe thus in English,

And so after concluding,

[Page]These and infinite places full of Christen exhortation, doctrine and example, I could quote out of the book, saue that I hasten to an end, and it would be needles to those that wil not read them in the booke it selfe, and superfluous to those that will: but most manifest it is and not to be denyed, that in this point my author is to be preferred before all the ancient Poets, in which are mentioned so many false Gods, and of them so many fowle deeds, their contentions, their adulteries, their incest, as were both obscenous in recitall, and hurtfull in example: though indeed those whom they tearmed Gods, were certaine great Princes that committed such enormous faults, as great Princes in late ages (that loue still to be cald Gods of the earth) do often commit. But now it may be and is by some obiected, that although he write Christianly in some places, yet in other some, he is too lasciuious, as in that of the bau­dy Frier, in Alcina and Rogeros copulation, in Anselmus his Giptian, in Richardetto his meta­morphosis, in mine hosts tale of Astolfo, and some few places beside; alas if this be a fault, par­don him this one fault; though I doubt to many of you (gentle readers) will be too exorable in this point; yea me thinks I see some of you searching already for these places of the book, and you are halfe offended that I haue not made some directions that you might finde out and read them immediatly. But I beseech you stay a while, and as the Italian saith Pian pia­no, fayre and softly, and take this caueat with you, to read them as my author meant them to breed detestation and not delectation: remember when you read of the old lecherous Frier, that a fornicator is one of the things that God hateth. When you read of Alcina, thinke how Ioseph fled from his intising mistres; when you light on Anselmus tale, learne to loath beastly couetousnes, when on Richardetto, know that sweet meate will haue sowre sawce, when on mine hosts tale (if you will follow my counsell) turne ouer the leafe and let it alone, although euen that lewd tale may bring some men profit, and I haue heard that it is already (and perhaps not vnfitly) termed the comfort of cuckolds. But as I say, if this be a fault, then Virgil committed the same fault in Dido and Aeneas entertainement: & if some will say, he tels that mannerly and couertly, how will they excuse that, where Vulcan was inteated by Venus to make an armour for Aeneas?

I hope they that vnderstand Latin will confesse this is plaine enough, & yet with modest words & no obscenons phrase: and so I dare take vpon me that in al Ariosto (and yet I thinke it is as much as three Aeneads,) there is not a word of ribaldry or obscenousnes: farther there is so meet a decorum in the persons of those that speake lasciuiously, as any of iudge­ment must needs allow; and therefore though I rather craue pardon then prayse for him in this point; yet me thinkes I can smile at the finesse of some, that will condemne him, and yet not onely allow, but admire our Chawcer, who both in words and sence, 'incurreth far more the reprehensiō of flat scurrilitie, as I could recite many places, not onely in his Millers tale, but in the good wife of Bathes tale, & many more, in which onely the decorum he keepes, is that that excuseth it, and maketh it more tolerable. But now whereas some will say, A [...]i­osto wanteth art, reducing all heroicall Poems vnto the method of Homer and certaine pre­cepts of Aristotle. For Homer I say, that that which was commendable in him to write in that age, the times being changed, would be thought otherwise now, as we see both in phrase & in fashions the world growes more curious each day then other: Ouid gaue precepts of ma­king loue, and one was that one should spill wine one the boord & write his mistresse name therewith, this was a quaynt cast in that age; but he that should make loue so now, his loue would mocke him for his labour, and count him but a slouenly sutor: and if it be thus chaunged since Ouids time, much more since Homers time. And yet for Ariostos tales that [Page] many thinke vnartificially brought in; Homer himselfe hath the like: as in the Iliads the conference of Glaucus with Diomedes vpon some acts of Bellerophon: & in his Odysseas the discourse of the hog with Vlysses. Further, for the name of the booke, which some carpe at, because he called it Orlando Furioso rather then Rogero, in that he may also be defended by example of Homer, who professing to write of Achilles, calleth his booke Iliade of Troy, and not Achillide. As for Aristotles rules, I take it, he hath followed them verie strictly.

Briefly, Aristotle and the best censurers of Poesie, would haue the Epopeia, that is, the heroicall Poem, should ground on some historie, and take some short time in the same to bewtifie with his Poetrie: so doth mine Author take the storie of K. Charls the great, and doth not exceed a yeare or therabout in his whole worke. Secondly they hold, that nothing should be fayned vtterly incredible. And sure Ariosto neither in his inchantments excee­deth credit (for who knowes not how strong the illusions of the diuell are?) neither in the miracles that Astolfo by the power of S. Iohn is fayned to do, since the Church holdeth that Prophets both aliue and dead, haue done mightie great miracles. Thirdly, they would haue an heroicall Poem (aswell as a Tragedie) to be full of Peripetia, which I interpret an agniti­on on of some vnlooked for fortune either good or bad, and a sudd en change thereof: of this what store there be the reader shall quickly finde. 'As for apt similitudes, for passions well ex­pressed, of loue, of pitie, of hate, of wrath, a blind man may see, if he can but heare, that this worke is full of them.

There follows onely two reproofs, which I rather interpret two peculiar praises of this writer aboue all that wrote before him in this kind: One, that he breaks off narrations ve­rie abruptly, so as indeed a loose vnattentiue reader, will hardly carrie away any part of the storie: but this doubtlesse is a point of great art, to draw a man with a continuall thirst to reade ouer the whole worke, and toward the end of the booke, to close vp the diuerse mat­ters briefly and cleanly. If S. Philip Sidney had counted this a fault, he would not haue done so himselfe in his Arcadia. Another fault is, that he speaketh so much in his owne person by digression, which they say also is against the rules of Poetrie, because neither Homer nor Virgil did it. Me thinks it is a sufficient defence to say, Ariosto doth it; sure I am, it is both delightfull and verie profitable, and an excellent breathing place for the reader, and euen as if a man walked in a faire long alley, to haue a seat or resting place here and there is easie and commodious: but if at the same seate were planted some excellent tree, that not onely with the shade should keepe vs from the heat, but with some pleasant and right wholsome fruite should allay our thirst and comfort our stomacke, we would thinke it for the time a litle pa­radice: so are Ariostos morals and pretie digressions sprinkled through his long worke, to the no lesse pleasure then profit of the reader. And thus much be spoken for defence of mine Author, which was the second part of my Apologie.

Now remaines the third part of it, in which I promised to speake somwhat for my selfe, which part, The third part of the Apologie. though it haue most need of an Apologie both large and substantiall; yet I will run it ouer both shortly and slightly, because indeed the nature of the thing it selfe is such, that the more one doth say, the lesse he shall seeme to say; and men are willinger to praise that in another man, which himselfe shall debase, then that which he shall seeme to main­taine. Certainly if I should confesse or rather professe, that my verse is vnartificiall, the stile rude, the phrase barbarous, the meeter vnpleasant, many more would beleeue it to be so, thē would imagine that I thought them so: for this same [...] or selfe pleasing is so cōmon a thing, as the more a man protests himselfe to be from it, the more we wil charge him with it. Wherefore let me take thus much vpon me, that admit it haue many of the forenamed im­perfections, and many not named, yet as writing goes now a dayes, it may passe among the rest; and as I haue heard a friend of mine (one verie iudicious in the beautie of a woman) say of a Ladie whom he meant to praise, that she had a low forhead, a great nose, a wide mouth, a long visage, and yet all these put together, she seemed to him a verie well, fauou­red woman: so I hope, and I finde alreadie some of my partiall friends, that what seuerall [Page] imperfections soeuer they finde in this translation, yet taking all together they allow it, or at least wise they reade it, which is a great argument of their liking.

Sir Thomas Moore a man of great wisedome and learning, but yet a litle enclined (as good wits are many times) to scoffing, when one had brought him a booke of some shallow dis­course, and preassed him very hard to haue his opinion of it, aduised the partie to put it into verse; the plaine meaning man in the best maner he could he did so, and a twelue-month after at the least, came with it to Sir Thomas, who slightly perusing it, gaue it this encomium, that now there was rime in it, but afore it had neither rime nor reason. If any man had ment to serue me so, yet I haue preuented him; for sure I am he shal finde rime in mine, & if he be not voyd of reason, he shal finde reason to. Though for the matter, I can challenge no praise, hauing but borrowed it, and for the verse I do challenge none, being a thing that euery body that neuer scarce bayted their horse at the Vniuersitie take vpon them to make. It is possi­ble that if I would haue employed that time that I haue done vpon this, vpon some inuep­tion of mine owne, I could haue by this made it haue risen to a iust volume, and if I would haue done as many spare not to do, flowne verie high with stolen fethers. But I had rather men should see and know that I borrow all, then that I steale any: and I would wish to be called rather one of the not worst translators, then one of the meaner makers. Specially sith the Earle of Surrey, and Sir Thomas Wiat, that are yet called the first refiners of the English tong, were both translators out of Italian. Now for those that count it such a contemptible and trifling matter to translate, I will but say to them as M. Bartholomew Ciarke an excel­lent learned man, and a right good translator, saith in manner of a prettie challenge, in his Preface (as I remember) vpon the Courtier, which booke he translated out of Italian into Latin. You (saith he) that thinke it such a toy, lay aside my booke, and take my author in your hand, and trie a leafe or such a matter, and compare it with mine. If I should say so, there would be enow that would quickly put me downe perhaps; but doubtlesse he might bold­ly say it, for I thinke none could haue mended him. But as our English prouerbe saith, many talke of Robin Hood that neuer shot in his bow, and some correct Magnificat, that know not quid significat. For my part I will thanke them that will amend any thing that I haue done amisse, nor I haue no such great conceipt of that I haue done, but that I thinke much in it is to be mended; and hauing dealt playnly with some of my plaine dealing friends, to tell me frankly what they heard spoken of it (for indeed I suffered some part of the printed copies to go among my friends, and some more perhaps went against my wil) I was told that these in effect were the faults were found with it. Some graue men misliked that I should spend so much good time on such a trifling worke as they deemed a Poeme to be. Foure faults found in this worke. Some more nicely, found fault with so many two sillabled and three sillabled rimes. Some (not vndeseruedly) reproued the fantasticalnes of my notes, in which they say I haue strained my selfe to make mention of some of my kindred and friends, that might verie well be left out. And one fault more there is, which I will tell my selfe, though many would neuer finde it; and that is; I haue cut short some of his Cantos, in leauing out many staues of them, and sometimes put the matter of two or three staues into one. To these reproofes I shall pray you gentle and noble Readers with patience heare my defence, Answer to the first. and then I will end. For the first reproofe, etiher it is alreadie excused, or it will neuer be excused; for I haue I thinke suf­ficiently proued, both the art to be allowable, and this worke to be commendable: yet I will tell you an accident that happened vnto my selfe. When I was entred a prettie way in­to the translation, about the seuenth booke, comming to write that where Melissa in the person of Rogeros Tutor, comes and reproues Rogero in the 4. staffe:

[Page] Straight I began to thinke, Samuel Fl [...]m­ming of kings colledge in Cambridge. that my Tutor, a graue and learned man, and one of a verie au­stere life, might say to me in like sort, Was it for this, that I read Aristotle and Plato to you, and instructed you so carefully both in Greek and Latin? to haue you now becom a transla­tor of Italian toyes? But while I thought thus, I was aware, that it was no toy that could put such an honest and serious consideration into my minde. The second. Now for them that finde fault with polysyllable meeter, me thinke they are like those that blame men for putting suger in their wine, and chide too bad about it, and say they marre al, but yet end with Gods blessing on their hearts. For indeed if I had knowne their diets, I could haue saued some of my cost, at least some of my paine; for when a verse ended with ciuillitie, I could easier after the aun­cient manner of rime, haue made see, or flee, or decree to answer it, leauing the accent vpon the last syllable, then hunt after three syllabled words to answer it with facillitie, gentillitie, tranquillitie, hostillitie, scurrillitie, debillitie, agillitie, fragillitie, nobillitie, mobillitie, which who mislike, may tast lampe oyle with their eares. And as for two syllabled meeters, they be so ap­prooued in other languages, that the French call them the feminine rime, as the sweeter: and the one syllable the masculin. But in a word to answer this, and to make them for euer hold their peaces of this point; Sir Philip Sidney not onely vseth them, but affecteth them: signifie, dignifie: shamed is, named is, blamed is: hide away, bide away. Though if my many blotted papers that I haue made in this kinde, might affoord me authoritie to giue a rule of it, I would say that to part them with a one syllable meeter betweene them, would giue it best grace. For as men vse to sow with the hand and not with the whole sacke, so I would haue the eare fed but not cloyed with these pleasing and sweet falling meeters. The third. For the third reproofe about the notes, sure they were a worke (as I may so call it) of supererogation, and I would wish sometimes they had bin left out, and the rather, if I be in such faire possibilitie to be thought a foole or fantasticall for my labour. True it is, I added some notes to the end of euery Can­to, euen as if some of my friends and my selfe reading it together (and so it fell out indeed many times) had after debated vpon them, what had bene most worthie consideration in them, and so oftimes immediatly i set it down. And whereas I make mention here and there of some of mine owne frends and kin, I did it the rather, because Plutarke in one place spea­king of Homer, partly lamenteth, and partly blameth him, that writing so much as he did, yet in none of his workes there was any mention made, or so much as inkling to be gathe­red of what stocke he was, of what kindred, of what towne, nor saue for his language, of what countrey. Excuse me then if I in a worke that may perhaps last longer then a better thing, and being not ashamed of my kindred, name them here and there to no mans offence, though I meant not to make euerie body so far of my counsell why I did it, till I was told that some person of some reckening noted me of a little vanitie for it: and thus much for that point.

For my omitting and abreuiating some things, The fourth. either in matters impertinent to vs, or in some too tedious flatteries of persons that we neuer heard of, if I haue done ill, I craue par­don; for sure I did it for the best. But if any being studious of the Italian, would for his bet­ter vnderstanding compare them, the first sixe bookes saue a little of the third, will stand him in steed. But yet I would not haue any man except, that I should obserue his phrase so strict­ly as an interpreter, nor the matter so carefully, as if it had bene a storie, in which to varie were as great a sin, as it were simplicitie in this to go word for word. But now to conclude, I shall pray you all that haue troubled your selues to read this my triple Apologie, to accept my labors, and to excuse my errors, if with no other thing, at least with the name of youth (which commonly hath need of excuses) and so presuming this pardon to be granted, we shall part good frends. [...] the life of Ariosto. Onely let me intreate you in reading the booke ensuing, not to do me that iniurie, that a Potter did to Artosto.