A DISCOURSE UPON GONDIBERT.

An Heroick POEM Written by S r. WILLIAM D'AVENANT

With an Answer to it by M r. HOBBS.

A PARIS, Chez MATTHIEV GVILLEMOT, ruë Sainct Jaques au coin de la ruë de la Parcheminerie, à l'Enseigne de la Bibliotheque, M.DC.L.

To Sir WILLIAM D'AVENANT, upon his two first Books of GON­DIBERT, finished before his Voyage to America.

THus the wise Nightingale that leave [...] her home,
Her native wood, when storms and winter come,
Pursuing constantly the cheerfull Spring
To forreign Groves do's her eid Musick bring:
The drooping Hebrews banish'd Harps un­strung
At Babylon, upon the willows hung;
Yours sounds aloud, and tell's us you excell
No lesse in courage then in singing well:
Whilst unconcern'd you let your Countrey know,
They have impoverish'd themselvs, not you:
Who with the Muses help can mock those fates
Which t [...]reaten Kingdoms, & disorder States.
So Ovid, when from Cesar's rage he fled,
The Roman Muse to Pontus with him led:
Where he so sung, that we through Pity's glass
See Nero milder then Augustus was.
Hereafter such in thy behalf shall be
Th' indulgent censure of Posterity.
To banish those who with such art can sing,
Is a rude crime which its own curse do's bring
[Page]Ages to come shall ne're know how they fought
Nor how to love their present youth be taught.
This to thy Self. Now to thy matchlesse Book,
Wherein those few that can with judgement
look
May find old Love in pure fresh language told,
Like new stampt coin made out of Angel gold.
Such truth in Love as th'antick world did know
In such a style as Courts may boast of now.
Which no bold tales of Gods or Monsters swell
But humane passions, such as with us dwell.
Man is thy theme, his Virtue or his Rage
Drawn to the life in each elaborate Page.
Mars nor B [...]llona are not named here;
But such a Gondibert as both might fear.
Venus had here and Hebe been out-shin'd
By thy bright B [...]r [...]h [...], and thy Rhodalind.
Such is thy happy skill, and such thy ods
Betwixt thy Worthies & the Grecian Gods.
Whose Deities in vain had here come down,
Where mortall beauty wears the sovereign Crown:
Such as of flesh compos'd, by flesh and bloud
(Though not resisted) may be understood,
ED. WALLER.

To Sir WILLIAM D'AVENANT, upon his two first Books of GON­DIBERT, finished before his Voyage to America.

MEthinks Heroick Poesie, till now
Like some fantastick Fairy land did show;
Gods, Devils, Nymphs, Witches, & Giants race,
And all but man, in mans best work had place.
Thou like some worthy Knight, with sacred Arms
Dost drive the Monsters thence, and end the Charms:
Instead of those dost Men and manners plant,
The things w ch that rich soil did chiefly want.
But even thy Mortals do their Gods excell,
Taught by thy Muse to Fight & Love so well.
By fatall hands whilst present Empires fall,
Thine from the grave past Monarchies recall.
So much more thanks from humane kind do's merit
The Poets Fury, then the Zelots Spirit.
And from the grave thou mak'st this Empire rise
Not like som dreadful ghost t'affright our eyes;
But with more beauty and triumphant state
Then when it crown'd at proud Verona sate.
So will our God rebuild Man's perish'd frame,
And raise him up much better, yet the same:
[Page]So God-like Poets do past things rehearse
Not change, but heighthen Nature with their Verse.
With shame methinks great Italy must s [...]e
Her Conquerours call'd to life again by thee:
Cal'd by such powerful Arts that antient Rome
May blush no lesse to see her Wit o'recome.
Som men their Fancies like their Faiths derive,
And count all ill but that w ch Rome do's give:
The marks of Old, and Catholick would find;
To the same Chair would Truth and Fiction bind.
Thou in these beaten paths disdain'st to tread,
And scorn'st to Live by robbing of the Dead.
Since Time do's all things change, thou think'st not fit
This latter age should see all new, but Wit.
Thy Fancy, like a Flame, her way do's make,
And leaves bright tracks for following Pens to take.
Sure t'was this noble boldnesse of the Muse
Did thy desire to seek new Worlds infuse:
And he're did heaven so much a Voyage blesse
If thou canst plant but there with like successe
AB. COWLEY.

The Author's Preface to his much honoured friend M r. HOBBS.

SIR,

SInce you have done me the honour to allow this Poem a daily examination as it was writing, I will presume, now it hath attain'd more length, to give you a longer trouble; that you may yield me as great advantages by censuring the Method, as by judging the Numbers in the matter. And because you shall passe through this new Building with more ease to your disquisition, I will acquaint you, what care I took of my materials ere I began to work.

[Page 2]But first give me leave (remem­bring with what difficulty the world can shew any Heroick Poem, that in a perfect glasse of Nature gives us a fa­miliar and easie view [...] our selves) to take notice of those quarrels, which the Living have with the Dead: and I will (according as all times have applyed their reverence) begin with Homer, who though he seems to me standing upon the Poets famous hill, like the eminent Sea-mark, by which they have in former ages steer'd; and thought he ought not to be removed from that eminence, lest Posterity should presumptuously mistake their course; yet some (sharply observing how his Successours have proceeded no farther than a perfection of imi­tating him) say, that as Sea-marks are chiefly usefull to Coasters, and serve not those who have the ambi­tion of Discoverers, that love to saile in untry'd Seas; so he hath rather proved a Guide for those, whose sa­tisfi'd [Page 3] wit will not venture beyond the track of others, then to them, who af­fect a new and remote way of think­ing; who esteem it a deficiency and meannesse of mind, to stay and depend upon the authority of example.

Some there are, that object that even in the likelyhoods of Story (and Story, where ever it seems most like­ly, growes most pleasant) he doth too frequently intermixe such Fables, as are objects lifted above the Eyes of Nature; and as he often interrogates his Muse, not as his [...]ationall Spirit but as a Familiar, separated from his body, so her replyes bring him where he spends time in immortall conver­sation; whilst supernaturally he doth often advance his men to the quality of Gods, and depose his Gods to the condition of men.

His Successour to fame, (and con­sequently to censure) is Virgil; whose Toyles nor Virtue canno [...] free him from the Pievishnesse (or rather [Page 4] curiosity) of divers Readers. He is upbraided by some (who perhaps are affected Antiquaries, and make prioritie of time the measure of ex­cellence) for gaining his renown by imitation of Homer: Whilst others (no lesse bold with that antient Guide) say, he hath so often led him into Heaven, and Hell, till by conversation with Gods and Ghosts, he sometimes deprives us of those naturall proba­bilities in Story, which are instructive to humane life: And others a [...]firm (if it be not irreverence to record their opinion) that even in wit, he seems deficient by many omissions; as if he had design'd a penance of gravity to himself and to posterity: And by their observing that continued gravity, me thinks they look upon him, as on a Musician composing of Anthemes; whose excellence consists more in the solemnesse, then in the fancy; and up­on the body of his Work as on the bo­dy of a Giant, whose force hath more [Page 5] of strength, then quicknesse; and of patience, then activity.

But these bold Censurers are in danger of so many Enemies, as I shall wisely shrink from them; and onely observe, that if any Disciples of uni­mitable Virgil can prove so formall, as to esteem wit (as if it were levity) an imputation to the Heroick Muse (by which malevolent word, Wit, they would disgrace her extraordina­ry heighths) yet if those grave Judges will be held wise, they must endure the sate of Wise-men; who alwayes have but few of their Society; for many more then consist of their num­ber (perhaps not having the sul­lennesse to be of it) are taken with those bold flights, and think 'tis with the Muse (whose noble Quarry is men) as with the Eagle, who when he soars high stoopes more prospe­rously, and is most certain of his prey. And surely Poets (whose busi­nesse should represent the Worlds [Page 6] true image often to our view) are not lesse prudent then Painters, who when they draw Landschaps, entertein not the Eye wholly with even Prospect, and a continued Flat; but (for varie­ty) terminate the sight with lofty Hils, whose obscure heads are sometimes in the Clouds.

Lucan who chose to write the grea­test actions that ever were allowed to be true (which, for fear of contem­porary witnesses, obliged him to a very close attendance upon Fame) did not observe that such an enter­prize rather beseemed an Historian then a Poet: for wise Poets think it more worthy to seek out truth in the passions, then to record the truth of actions; and practise to describe Mankind just as we are perswaded or guided by instinct, not particular persons, as they are lifted, or levell'd by the force of Fate, it being nobler to contemplate the generall History of Nature, then a selected Diary of For­tune: [Page 7] And Painters are no more then Historians, when they draw eminent persons (though they term that draw­ing to the life) but when, by assembling divers figures in a larger volume, they draw passions (though they term it but Story) then they increase in dignity and become Poets.

I have been thus hardy to call him to account for the choyce of his Ar­gument, not meerly as it was Story, but because the actions he recorded were so eminent, and so near his time, that he could not assist Truth, with such ornaments as Poets, for usefull plea­sure, have allow'd her; lest the feign'd complexion might render the true, su­spected. And now I will leave to others the presumption of measuring his Hy­perboles, by whose space and heighth they maliciously take the dimension of wit; and so mistake him in his boyling Youth (which had mervellous forces) as we disrellish excellent Wine when fuming in the Lee.

[Page 8] Statius (with whom we may con­clude the old Heroicks) is as accom­ptable to some for his obligations to Virgil, as Virgil is to others for what he owes to Homer; and more closely then Virgil wa [...]ts on Homer, doth Statius attend Virgil, and follows him there also where Nature never comes, even into Heaven, and Hell: and therefore he cannot escape such as approve the wisdome of the best Dra­maticks; who in representation of examples, believe they prevail most on our manners when they lay the Scene at home in their own Coun­trey, so much they avoid those re­mote regions of Heaven and Hell: as if the People (whom they make ci­vill by an easie communication with reason (and familiar reason is that which is call'd the civility of the Stage) were become more discreet then to have their eyes perswaded by the de­scending of Gods in gay Clouds, and more manly then to be frighted [Page 9] with the rising of Ghosts in Smoak.

Tasso (who reviv'd the Heroick flame after it was many ages quench­ed) is held both in time and merit, the first of the Moderns; an honour by which he gains not much; because the number he excells must needs be few, which affords but one fit to suc­ceed him; for I will yield to their o­pinion, who permit not Ariosto, no nor Du Bartas, in this eminent ranke of the Heroicks; rather then to make way by their admission for Dante, Marino and others. Tasso's honour too is chiefly allow'd him, where he most endeavours to make Virgil his Pattern: And again, when we consi­der from whom Virgil's spirit is de­riv'd, we may observe how rarely hu­mane excellence is found; for Heroick Poesie (which, if exact in it self, yields not to any other Humane Work) flow'd but in few, and even those Streams descended but from one Gre­cian Spring: And 'tis with Origi­nall [Page 10] Poems as with the Originall Pieces of Painters, whose Coppies abate the excessive price of the first Hand.

But Tasso though he came late into the world must have his share in that Criticall Warre which never ceases amongst the Learned; and he seems most unfortunate, because his errours which are deriv'd from the Antients, when examin'd, grow in a great de­gree excusable in them, and by being his, admit no pardon. Such as are his Councell assembled in Heaven▪ his Witches Expeditions through the Air, and enchanted Woods inha­bited with Ghosts. For though the elder Poets (which were then the sa­cred Priests) fed the World with super­naturall Tales, and so compounded the Religion, of Pleasure and Mystery (two Ingredients which never fail'd to wo [...]k upon the People) whilst for the eternity of their Chiefs (more refin'd by education) they surely in­tended [Page 11] no such vain provision) Yet a Christian Poet (whose Religion lit­tle needs the aids of invention) hath lesse occasion to imitate such Fables, as meanly illustrate a probable Heaven, by the fashion, and dignity of Courts; and make a resemblance of Hell, out of the Dreams of frighted Women; by which they continue and increase the Melancholy mistakes of the People.

Spencer may stand here as the last of this short File of Heroick Poets; Men, whose intellectuals were of so great a making, (though some have thought them lyable to those few censures we have mention'd) as per­haps they will in worthy memory out-last even Makers of Laws, and Founders of Empire, and all but such as must therefore live equally with them, because they have re­corded their Names; and conse­quently with their own hands led them to the Temple of Fame. And [Page 12] since we have dar'd to remember those exceptions which the Curious have against them; it will not be ex­pected I should forget what is obje­cted against Spencer; whose obsolete language we are constrain'd to men­tion, though it be grown the most vulgar accusation that is lay'd to his charge.

Language (which is the onely Creature of Man's Creation) hath, like a Plant, seasons of flourishing, and decay; like Plants, is remov'd from one Soil to another, and by being so transplanted, doth often gather vi­gour and increase. But as it is false Husbandry to graft old Branch [...]s up­on young Stocks: so we may won­der that our Language (not long be­fore his time created out of a confu­sion of others, and then beginning to flourish like a new Plant) should (as helps to its increase) receive from his hand new Grafts of old wither'd Words. But this vulgar exception [Page 13] shall onely have the vulgar excuse; which is, that the unlucky choise of his Stanza hath by repetition of Rime brought him to the necessity of many exploded words.

If we proceed from his Language to his Argument, we must observe with others, that his noble and most artfull hands deserv'd to be employ'd upon matter of a more naturall, and therefore of a more usefull kind. His Allegoricall Story (by many held de­fective in the Connexion) resembling (me thinks) a continuance of extra­ordinary Dreams; such as excellent Poets, and Painters, by being over­studious, may have in the beginning of Feavers: And those morall visions are just of so much use to Humane application, as painted History, when with the cousenage of lights it is re­presented in Scenes, by which we are much lesse inform'd then by actions on the Stage.

Thus, Sir, I have (perhaps) taken [Page 14] pains to make you think me mali­cious, in observing how farre the Cu­rious have look'd into the Errours of others: Errours, which the naturall humour of imitation hath made so like in all (even from Homer to Spencer) as the accusations against the first, appear but little more then repetition in every processe against the rest: and com­paring the resemblance of errour in persons of one generation to that which is in those of another age, we may find it exceeds not any where, notoriously, the ordinary proportion. Such limits to the progresse of every thing (even of worthinesse as well as defect) doth Imitation give: for whilst we imitate others, we can no more excell them, then he that sails by others Maps can make a new disco­very: and to Imitation, Nature (which is the onely visible power and opera­tion of God) perhaps doth needfully encline us to keep us from excesses. For, though every man be capable of [Page 15] worthinesse and unworthinesse (as they are defined by Opinion) yet no man is built strong enough to bear the extremities of either, without un­loading himself upon others shoul­ders, even to the wearinesse of many. If courage be worthinesse, yet where it is overgrown into extremes, it becomes as wild and hurtfull as Am­bition; and so what was reverenc'd for Protection grows to be abhorred for Oppression. If Learning (which is not Knowledge, but a continued Sailing by fantastick and uncertain winds towards it) be Worthinesse, yet it hath bounds in all Philoso­phers; and Nature that measured those bounds, seems not so partiall, as to allow it in any one a much larger extent then in another; as if in our fleshy building, she considered the furniture and the room, alike, and together: for as the compasse of Dia­dems commonly fits the whole suc­cession of those Kings that wear [Page 16] them; so throughout the whole World, a very few inches may distin­guish the circumference of the head [...] of their Subjects: Nor need we re­pine that Nature hath not some Fa­vourites, to whom she doth dispense this Treasure, Knowledge, with a pro­digious Liberality. For as there is n [...] one that can be said vastly to exce [...] all mankind; so divers that have i [...] learning transcended all in some one Province, have corrupted many wit [...] that great quantity of false gold; and the authority of their stronger Science hath often serv'd to distract or perver [...] their weaker disciples.

And as the qualities which are ter­med good, are bounded, so are the bad; and likewise limited, as well as gotten by imitation; for amongst those that are extraordinary, eithe [...] by Birth or Brain (for with the usuall pride of Poets, I passe by com­mon crowds, as negligently as Princes move from throngs that are not thei [...] [Page 17] own Subjects) we cannot find any one so egregious (admitting cruelty and avarice for the chiefest evils; and er­rours in government or doctrine, to be the greatest errours) but that divers of former or succeeding times may enter the scales with them, and make the balance even; though the passion of Historians would impose the contrary on our belief; who in dispraise of evil Princes are often as unjust and exces­sive as the common People: for there was never any Monarch so cruel, but he had living subjects; nor so avarici­ous, but that his subjects were richer then himself; nor ever any disease in government so extremely infectious, as to make an universall Anarchy; or any errour in Doctrine so strong by the maintainer, but that Truth (though it wrestled with her often and in many places) hath at some season, and on some ground, made her advanta­ges and successe apparent: Therefore we may conclude, that Nature, for [Page 18] the safety of mankind, hath as well (by dulling and stopping our progresse with the constant humour of imitati­on) given limits to courage and learn­ing, to wickednesse and to errour, as it hath ordained the shelves before the shore, to restrain the rage and excesses of the Sea.

But I feel (Sir) that I am falling into the dangerous Fit of a hot Writer; for, instead of performing the promise which begins this Preface, and doth oblige me (after I had given you the judgement of some upon others) to present my self to your censure; I am wandring after new thoughts: but I shall ask your pardon, and return to my undertaking.

My Argument I resolved should consist of Christian persons; for since Religion doth generally beget and govern manners, I thought the example of their actions would pre­vail most upon our own, by being derived from the same Doctrine and [Page 19] Authority; as the particular Sects edu­cated by Philosophers were diligent and pliant to the dictates and fashions of such as deriv'd themselves from the same Master; but lazy and froward to those who conversed in other Schools. Yet all these Sects pretended to the same beauty, Virtue; though each did court her more fondly, when she was dressed at their own homes by the hands of their acquaintance: And so Subjects bred under the laws of a Prince (though Laws differ not much in Morality or Priviledge throughout the civil World, being every where made for direction of Life, more then for sentences of Death) will rather die near that Prince, defending those they have been taught, then live by taking new from another.

These were partly the reasons why I chose a Story of such Persons as professed Christian Religion; but I ought to have been most enclined to [Page 20] it, because the Principles of our Reli­gion conduce more to explicable Vir­tue, to plain demonstrative Justice, and even to Honour (if Virtue the Mother of Honour be voluntary and active in the dark, so as she need not laws to compell her, nor look for witnesses to proclaim her) then any other Re­ligion that ever assembled men to Di­vine Worship. For that of the Iews doth still consist in a sullen separation of themselves from the rest of hu­mane flesh, which is a fantasticall pride of their own cleannesse, and an uncivil disdain of the imagined con­tagiousnesse of others; and at this day, their cantonizing in Tribes, and shynesse of alliance with neigh­bours, deserve not the terme of mu­tuall love, but rather seems a bestiall melancholy of hearding into their own Walks. That of the Ethnicks, like this of Mahomet, consisted in the vain pride of Empire, and never enjoyned a Jewish separation, but [Page 21] drew all Nations together; yet not as their companions of the same spe­cies, but as slaves to a yoke: Their sanctity was Honour, and their Honour onely an impudent courage, or dex­terity in destroying. But Christian Religion hath the innocence of Village neighbourhood, and did antiently in its politicks rather promote the interest of Mankind then of States; and rather of all States then of One; for particular endeavours, onely in be­half of our own homes, are signs of a narrow morall education, not of the vast kindnesse of Christian Reli­gion, which likewise ordained as well an universall communion of bosomes, as a community of wealth. Such is Christian Religion in the precepts, and was once so in the practise. But I resolved my Poem should represent those of a former age, perceiving 'tis with the servants of Christ, as with other servants under temporall power, who with all cleannesse, and even [Page 22] with officious diligence perform their duty in their Masters sight; but still as he grows longer absent, become more slothfull, unclean, and false. And this, who ever compares the present with the Primitive times▪ may too palpably and with horrour discern.

When I considered the actions which I meant to describe, (those in­ferring the persons) I was again per­swaded rather to chuse those of a for­mer age then the present: and in a Century so farre removed, as might preserve me from their improper examinations who know not the requisites of a Poem, nor how much pleasure they lose (and even the plea­sures of Heroick Poesie are not un­profitable) who take away the liberty of a Poet, and fetter his feet in the shackles of an Historian: For why should a Poet doubt in Story to mend the intrigues of Fortune by more delightfull conveyences of pro­bable Fiction, because austere Histo­rians [Page 23] have enter'd into bond to truth? an obligation which were in Poets, as foolish and unnecessary as is the bon­dage of false Martyrs, who lie in chains for a mistaken opinion: But by this I would imply, that Truth narrative, and past, is the Idol of Historians, (who worship a dead thing) and truth ope­rative, and by e [...]fects continually alive, is the Mistresse of Poets, who hath not her existence in matter but in reason.

I was likewise more willing to derive my theme from elder times, as think­ing it no little mark of skilfulnesse to comply with the common Infirmity; for men (even of the best education) discover their eyes to be weak, when they look upon the glory of Virtue (which is great actions) and rather endure it at distance then near; being more apt to believe, and love the re­nown of Predecessours, then of Con­temporaries, whose deeds excelling theirs in their own sight, [...] to [Page 24] upbraid them, and are not reverenced as examples of Virtue, but envyed as the favours of Fortune: But to make great actions credible is the princi­pall Art of Poets; who, though they avouch the utility of Fictions, should not (by altering and subliming Story) make use of their Priviledge to the detriment of the Reader: whose in­credulity (when things are not repre­sented in proportion) doth much allay the relish of his pity, hope, joy, and other Passions: For we may descend to compare the deceptions in Poesie to those of them that professe▪ dextery of Hand, which resembles Conjuring, and to such we come not with the intention of Lawyers to exa­mine the evidence of facts, but are content (if we like the carriage of their feigned motion) to pay for being well deceived.

As in the choise of time, so of place, I have complied with the weaknesse of the generality of men; who think the [Page 25] best objects of their own countrey so little to the size of those abroad, as if they were shew'd them by the wrong end of a Prospective: for Man (con­tinuing the appetites of his first Child­hood, till he arrive at his second which is more froward) must be quieted with something that he thinks excel­lent, which he may call his own; but when he sees the like in other places (not staying to compare them) wrangles at all he hath. This leads us to observe the craftinesse of the Comicks, who are onely willing when they describe humour (and humour is the Drunkennesse of a Nation which no sleep can cure) to lay the Scene in their own countrey; as knowing we are (like the Sonne of Noah) so little distasted to behold each others shame, that we delight to see even that of a Father: yet when they would set forth greatnesse and excellent virtue (which is the Theam of Tragedy) publickly to the people; they wisely [Page 26] (to avoid the quarrels of neighbourly envie) remove the Scene from home. And by their example I travaild too; and Italie (which was once the Stage of the World) I have made the Thea­tre, where I shew in either Sex, some patterns of humane life, that are (per­haps) fit to be follow'd.

Having told you why I took the actions that should be my Argument, from men of our own Religion, and given you reasons for the choice of the time and place design'd for those actions; I must next acquaint you with the Schools where they were bred; not meaning the Schools where they took their Religion, but Mo­rality; for I know Religion is univer­sally rather inherited then taught: and the most effectuall Schools of Mo­rality, are Courts and Camps: Yet towards the first, the people are un­quiet through envie; and towards the other, through fear; and alwayes jea­lous of both for Injustice, which is [Page 27] the naturall Scandall cast upon Au­thority, and great force. They look upon the outward Glory or Blaze of Courts, as Wilde-beasts in dark nights stare on their Hunters Torches; but though the expences of Courts (whereby they shine) is that consu­ming glory in which the people think their liberty is wasted (for wealth is their Liberty and lov'd by them e­ven to jealousie (being themselves a courser sort of Princes, apter to take then to pay) yet Courts (I mean all abstracts of the Multitude; either by King, or Assemblies) are not the Schools where men are bred to op­pression, but the Temples where some times Oppressours take Sanctuary; a safety which our reason must allow them. For the ancient laws of San­ctuary (deriv'd from God) provid [...]d chiefly for Actions that proceed [...]d from necessity; and who can imagine lesse then a necessity of oppressing the people, since they are never wil­ling [Page 28] either to buy their Peace or to pay for War?

Nor are Camps the Schools of wicked Destroyers, more then the Inns of Court (being the Nursery of Judges) are the Schools of Murder­ers; for as Judges are Avengers of private men against private Robbers, so are Armies the Avengers of the Publick against Publick Invaders (either Civill or Forreign) and Invaders are Robbers, though more in Countenance then those of the High-way, because of their number. Nor is there other difference between Armies, when they move towards Sieges, or Battell, and Judges moving in their Circuit (during the danger of extraordinary Malefactours) with the Guards of the County; but that the latter is a lesse Army, and of lesse di­scipline. If any man can yet doubt of the necessary use of Armies, let him study that which was antiently call'd a Monster, the Multitude (for Wolves [Page 29] are commonly harmelesse when they are met alone, but very uncivill in Heards) and he will not find that all his kindred by Adam are so tame, and gentle, as those Lovers that were bred in Arcadia: or to reform his opinion, let him ask why (during the utmost age of History) Cities have been at the charge of defensive Walls; and why Fortification hath been practis'd so long, till it is grown an Art?

I may now believe I have usefully taken from Courts and Camps the patterns of such as will be fit to be imitated by the most necessary Men; and the most necessary m [...]n are those who become principall by preroga­tive of blood (which is seldome un­assisted with education) or by great­nesse of mind, which, in exact defi­nition is Virtue. The common Croud (of whom we are hopelesse) we de­sert; being rather to be corrected by laws (where Precept is accompany'd with Punishment) then to be taught [Page 30] by Poesie; for few have arriv'd at the skill of Orpheus, or at his good for­tune, whom we may suppose to have met with extraordinary Grecian beasts, when so successfully he reclaim'd them with his Harp. Nor is it need­full that Heroick Poesie should be le­vell'd to the reach of Common men; for if the examples it presents prevaile upon their Chiefs, the delight of Imi­tation (which we hope we have prov'd to be as effectuall to good as to evil) will rectifie by the rules, which those Chiefs establish of their own lives, the lives of all that behold them; for the example of life, doth as much surpasse the force of precept, as Life doth ex­ceed Death.

In the choice of these Objects (which are as Sea-marks to direct the dangerous Voyage of Life) I thought fit to follow the Rule of Coasting Mapps, where the Shelv's and Rocks are describ'd as well the safe Channell; the care being equall [Page 31] how to avoid, as to proceed: and the Characters of men (whose passions are to be eschu'd) I have deriv'd from the Distempers of Love, or Am­bition: for Love and Ambition are too often the raging Feavers of great minds. Yet Ambition (if the vul­gar acception of the word were cor­rected) would signifie no more then an extraordinary lifting of the feet in the rough wayes of Honour, over the im­pediments of Fortune; and hath a warmt'h (till it be chaf'd into a Fea­ver) which is necessary for every virtu­ous breast: for good men are guilty of too little appetite to greatnesse, and it either proceeds from that they call contentednesse (but contentednesse when examin'd doth mean some­thing of Lazynesse as well as modera­tion) or from some melancholy pre­cept left of the Cloyster; where they would make life (for which the world was onely made) more unpleasant then Death; as if Nature, the Vicegerent [Page 32] of God (who in providing delightfull varieties which virtuous greatnesse can best possesse, or assure peaceably to others, implicitly commanded the use of them) should in the necessaries of life (life being her chief businesse) though in her whole reign she never committed one errour, need the coun­cell of Fryars; whose solitude makes them no more fit for such direction, then Prisoners long fette [...]'d are for a race.

In saying this, I onely awaken such retir'd men, as evaporate their strength of mind by close and long thinking; and would every where separate the Soul from the Body, ere we are Dead, by perswading us (though they were both created and have been long Companions toge­ther) that the preferment of the one must meerly consist in deserting the other; teaching us to court the Grave, as if during the whole lease of life we were like Moles to live under ground; [Page 33] or as if long and well Dying were the certain means to Live in Heaven: Yet Reason (which, though the most profitable Talent God hath given us, some Divines would have Philoso­phers to bury in the Napkin, and not put it to use) perswades us, that the painfull activenesse of Virtue (for Faith on which some wholly depend seems but a contemplative boast till the effects of it grow exemplary by action) will more probably acquire everlasting dignities. And surely if these severe Masters (who though obscure in Cells, take it ill if their very opinions rule not all, abroad) did give good men leave to be industrious in getting a Share of Governing the World, the Multitudes (which are but Tenants to a few Monarchs) would endure that subjection which God hath decreed them, with better order, and more ease; for the world is onely ill govern'd because the wicked take more pains to get authority▪ then the [Page 34] virtuous; for the virtuous are often preach'd into retirement; which is to the publick as unprofitable as their sleep; and the erroneousnesse of such lazy rest let Philosophers judge; since Nature (of whose body man thinks himself the chiefest member) hath not any where, at any time, been respit­ed from action (in her, call'd motion) by which she universally preserves and makes Life. Thus much of Ambition which should have succeeded some­thing I was saying of Love.

Love in the Interpretation of the Envious, is Softnesse; in the Wicked, good men suspect it for Lust; and in the Good, some Spirituall men have given it the name of Charity: And these are but terms to this which seems a more consider'd Definition; that indefinite Love is Lust; and Lust when it is determin'd to one, is Love; This Definition too but intrudes it self on what I was about to say, which is, (and spoken with sobernesse [Page 35] though like a Lay-man) that Love is the most acceptable imposition of Nature, the cause and preservation of Life, and the very healthfulnesse, of the mind, as well as of the body; but Lust (our raging Feaver) is more dangerous in Cities, then the Calen­ture in Ships.

Now (Sir) I again ask you par­don, for I have again digress'd; my immediate businesse being to tell you that the distempers of Love and Ambition are the onely characters I design'd to expose as objects of ter­rour: and my purpose was also to assure you, that I never meant to prostitute Wickednesse in the Images of low and contemptible people, as if I expected the meanest of the mul­titude for my Readers (since onely the Rabble is seen at common executi­ons) nor intended to raise iniquity to that heighth of horrour, till it might seem the fury of something worse then a beast. In order to the first, I be­lieve [Page 36] the Spartans (who to dete [...] their children from Drunkennesse ac­custom'd their Slaves to vomit before them) did by such fulsome examples rather teach them to disdain the Slaves, then to loathe Wine; for men seldome take notice of the Vice in abject persons, especially where ne­cessity constrains it. And in observa­tion of the second, I have thought, that those horrid spectacles (when the latter race of Gladiatours made up the excesses of Roman feasts) did more induce the Guests to de [...]est the cruelty of mankind, then increase their cou­rage by beholding such an impudent scorn of Life.

I have now given you the accomp [...] of such provisions as I made for this new Building; and you may next please (having examin'd the substance) to take a view of the form; and ob­serve if I have methodically and with discretion dispos'd of the materialls [...] which with some curiosity I had col­lected. [Page 37] I cannot discern by any help from reading, or learned men, (who have been to me the best and briefest Indexes of Books) that any Nation hath in representment of great actions (either by Heroicks or Dramaticks) digested Story into so pleasant and instructive a method as the English by their Drama: and by that regular species (though narratively and not in Dialogue) I have drawn the body of an Heroick Poem: In which I did not onely observe the Symmetry (propor­tioning five Books to five Acts, and Canto's to Scenes, (the Scenes ha­ving their number ever governed by occasion) but all the shadowings, happy strokes, secret graces, and even the drapery (which together make the se­cond beauty) I have (I hope) exactly followed: and those compositions of second beauty, I observe in the Drama to be the under-walks, interwea [...]ing, or correspondence of lesser-design in Scenes, not the great motion of the [Page 38] main plot, and coherence of the Acts.

The first Act is the generall pre­parative, by rendring the chiefest cha­racters of persons, and ending with something that looks like an obscure promise of design. The second be­gins with an introducement of new persons, so finishes all the characters, and ends with some little performance of that design which was promised at the parting of the first Act. The third makes a visible correspondence in the Under-walks (or lesser intri­gues of persons; and ends with an ample turn of the main design, and expectation of a new. The fourth (ever having occasion to be the long­est) gives a notorious turn to all the Underwalks, and a countre-turn to that main design which changed in the Third. The fifth begins with an intire diversion of the main, and dependent Plots; then makes the ge­nerall correspondence of the persons [Page 39] more discernable, and ends with an easie untying of those particular knots, which made a contexture of the whole; leaving such satisfaction of probabilities with the Spectatour, as may perswade him that neither For­tune in the fate of the Persons, nor the Writer in the Representment, have been unnaturall or exorbitant. To these Meander's of the English Stage I have cut out the walks of my Poem; which in this description may seem intricate and tedious; but will I hope (when men take pains to vi­sit what they have h [...]ard described) appear to them as pleasant as a summer passage on a crooked River, where going about, and turning back, is as delightfull as the delaies of part­ing Lovers.

In placing the Argument (as a Proem) before every Canto, I have not wholly follow'd the example of the Moderns; but averted it from that purpose to which I found it frequent­ly [Page 40] used: for it hath been intended by others, as the contents of the Chapter, or as a Bill of Fare at a Venetian Feast; which is not brought before the meat to raise an expectation, but to satisfie the longing curiosity of the Guests. And that which I have called my Argument, is onely meant as an assistance to the Readers memory, by containing brief hints, such, as if all the Arguments were successively read, would make him easily remem­ber the mutuall dependencies of the generall design; yet each rather men­tions every person acting, then their actions: But he is very unskilfull that by Narratives before an Historicall Poem prevents expectation; for so he comes to have little successe over the Reader (whom the Writer should surprize, and as it were keep prisoner for a time) as he hath on his Enemies, who commanding a party out to take them (and commonly Readers are justly Enemies to Writers) imparts [Page 41] openly the design ere he begins the action: Or he may be said to be as un­luckily officious, as he that leads a wooing to a Mistresse, one that already hath newly enjoyed her.

I shall say a little, why I have cho­sen my interwoven Stanza of [...]our, though I am not obliged to excuse the choice; for numbers in Verse must, like distinct kinds of Musick, be exposed to the uncertain and different taste of severall Ears. Yet I may declare that I beleev'd it would be more pleasant to the Reader, in a Work of Length, to give this respite or pause, between every Stanza (having endeavoured that each should contain a period) then to run him out of breath with con­tinued Couplets. Nor do's alternate Rime by any lowlinesse of cadence make the sound lesse Heroick, but rather adapt it to a plain and stately composing of Musick; and the bre­vity of the Stanza renders it lesse subtil to the Composer, and more easie [Page 42] to the Singer; which in stylo recitativo, when the Story is long, is chiefly re­quisite. And this was indeed (if I shall not betray vanity in my Confession) the reason that prevailed most towards my choice of this Stanza, and my division of the main work into Canto's, every Canto including a sufficient ac­complishment of some worthy design or action; for I had so much heat (which you, Sir, may call pride, since pride may be allowed in Pegasus, if it be a praise to other Horses) as to pre­sume they might (like the Works of Homer ere they were joyned together and made a Volume by the Athenian King) be sung at Village-feasts; though not to Monarchs after Victory, nor to Armies before Battel. For so (as an inspiration of glory into the one, and of valour into the other) did Ho­mer's spirit, long after his body's rest, wander in Musick about Greece.

Thus you have the Model of what I have already built, or shall hereafter [Page 43] joyn to the same frame. If I be ac­cused of Innovation, or to have trans­gressed against the method of the Antients; I shall think my self secure in believing, that a Poet who hath wrought with his own Instruments at a new design, is no more answerable for disobedience to Predecessours, then Law-makers are liable to those old Laws which themselves have repealed.

Having described the outward frame, the large rooms within, the lesser conveyances, and now the fur­niture; it were orderly to let you ex­amine the matter of which that furni­ture is made: But though every owner who hath the Vanity to shew his or­naments or hangings, must endure the curiosity, and censure of him that be­holds them; yet I shall not give you the trouble of inquiring what is, but tell you of what I designed their sub­stance, which is Wit: And Wit is the laborious, and the lucky resultances of thought, having towards its excellence [Page 44] (as we say of the strokes of Painting) as well a happinesse, as care. It is a Web consisting of the sub [...]ilest threads, and like that of the Spider [...] is conside­rately woven out of our selves; for a Spider may be said to consider, not one­ly respecting his solemnesse and taci [...]e posture (like a grave scout in ambush for his Enemy) but because all things done, are either from consideration o [...] chance; and the works of chance ar [...] accomplishments of an instant, having commonly a dissimilitude; but he [...] are the works of time, and have their contextures alike.

Wit is not onely the luck and la­bour, but also the dexterity of the thought; rounding the world like th [...] Sun with unimaginable motion; an [...] bringing swiftly home to the memo [...] universall surveyes. It is the Soul Powder, which when supprest (as fo [...] [...]idden from flying upward) blows [...] the restraint; and loseth all force in farther ascension towards Heaven (th [...] [Page 45] region of God) and yet by nature is much lesse able to make any inquisiti­on downward towards Hell, the Cell of the Devil; but breaks through all about it (as farre as the utmost it can reach) removes, uncovers, makes way for Light, where darknesse was inclosed, till great bodies are more exa­minable by being scattered into par­cels; and till all that find its strength (but most of mankind are strangers to Wit, as Indians are to Powder) wor­ship it for the effects, as derived from the Deity. It is in Divines Humility, Exemplarinesse, and Moderation: In States-men, Gravity, Vigilance, Be­nigne Complacency, Secrecy, Patience, and Dispatch. In Leaders of Armies, Valour, Painfulnesse, Temperance, Bounty, Dexterity in Punishing and Rewarding, and a sacred Certitude of Promise: It is in Poets a full com­prehension of all recited in all these; and an ability to bring those compre­hensions into action, when they shall [Page 46] so farre forget the true measure of what is of greatest consequence to humanity [...] (which are things righteous, pleasant [...] and usefull) as to think the delights o [...] greatnesse equall to that of Poesie; or the Chiefs of any Profession mo [...] necessary to the World then excelle [...] Poets. Lastly, though Wit be not th [...] envy of ignorant Men, 'tis often o [...] evil Statesmen, and of all such imper­fect great spirits, as have it in a less [...] degree then Poets: for though no ma [...] envies the excellence of that which [...] no proportion he ever tasted (as m [...] cannot be said to envy the condition [...] Angels) yet we may say the devil envi [...] the Supremacy of God, because he w [...] in some degree partaker of his Glory.

That which is not, yet is accounte [...] Wit, I will but slightly remember which seems very incident to impe [...]fect youth and sickly age; Young me (as if they were not quite delivere from Child-hood whose first exerci [...] is Language) imagine it consists [...] [Page 47] the Musick of words, and believe they are made wise by refining their speech above the vulgar Dialect: which is a mistake almost as great as that of the people, who think Ora­tours (which is a title that crowns at riper years those that have practised the dexterity of tongue) the ablest men; who are indeed so much more unapt for governing, as they are more fit for Sedition: and it may be said of them as of the Witches of Norway, who can sell a Storm for a Doller, which for ten thousand they can­not allay. From the esteem of speak­ing they proceed to the admiration of what are commonly called Conceits, things that sound like the knacks or toyes of ordinary Epigrammatists: and from thence, after more conversation and variety of objects, grow up to some force of Fancy; Yet even then like young Hawks they stray and fly farre off; using their liberty as if they would ne're return to the Lure; and [Page 48] often go at check ere they can make a steddy view, and know their game.

Old men, that have forgot their first Child-hood, and are returning to their second, think it lies in Agnomi­nations, and in a kind of an alike tink­ling of words; or else in a grave telling of wonderfull things, or in compa­ring of times without a discover'd partiality; which they perform so ill by favouring the past, that, as 'tis ob­serv'd, if the bodies of men should grow lesse, though but an unmeasu­rable proportion in seven years; Yet reckoning from the Flood, they would not remain in the stature of Frogs: so if States and particular persons had impair'd in Government, and increas'd in wickednesse, proportionably to what▪ old Men affirm they have done, from their own infancy to their age; all publick Policy had been long since Con [...]usion, and the congregated world would not su [...]fice now to people a village.

[Page 49] The last thing they suppose to be Wit, is their bitter Morals, when they almost declare themselves Enemies to Youth and Beauty; by which Seve­rity they seem cruel as Herod when he surpris'd the sleeping Children of Bethleem: For Youth is so farre from wanting Enemies, that it is mortally its own; so unpractis'd, that it is every where cozen'd more then a Stranger among Iews; and hath an infirmity of sight more hurtfull then Blind­nesse to Blind men; for though it cannot chuse the way, it scorns to be led. And Beauty, though many call themselves her Friends, hath few but such as are false to her: Though the World sets her in a Throne, yet all about her (even her gravest Coun­cellours) are Traytours, though not in conspiracy, yet in their distinct de­signes; and to make her certain not onely of distresse but ruine, she is ever pursu'd by her most cruel enemy, the great Destroyer, Time. But I will [Page 50] proceed no farther upon Old men, nor in recording mistakes; lest fin­ding so many more, then there be Ve­rities, we might believe we walk in as great obscurity as the Egypti­ans when Darknesse was their Plague. Nor will I presume to call the matter of which the Ornaments or Substan­tiall parts of this Poem are compos'd, Wit; but onely tell you my endeavour was, in bringing Truth (too often absent) home to mens bosomes, to lead her through unfrequented and new wayes, and from the most remote Shades; by representing Nature though not in an affected, yet in an unusuall dresse.

'Tis now fit, after I have given you so long a survey of the Building, to render you some accompt of the Builder; that you may know by what time, pains, and assistance I have al­ready proceeded, or may hereafter finish my work: and in this I shall take occasion to accuse, and con­demne, [Page 51] as Papers unworthy of light, all those hasty digestions of thought which were publish'd in my Youth; a sentence not pronounc'd out of me­lancholy rigour, but from a cheerfull obedience to the just authority of ex­perience: For that grave mistresse of the World, Experience (in whose pro­fitable Schoole those before the Flood stay'd long, but we like wan­ton Children come thither late, yet too soon are call'd out of it, and fetch'd home by Death) hath taught me, that the engendrings of unripe age become abortive, and deform'd; and that after obteining more years, those must needs prophecy with ill successe, who make use of their Vi­sions in Wine; That when the an­tient Poets were valued as Prophets, they were long and painfull in watch­ing the correspondence of Causes, ere they presum'd to foretell Effects: and that 'tis a high presumption to entertein a Nation (who are a Poets [Page 52] standing Guests, and require Monar­chicall respect) with hasty provisions; as if a Poet might imitate the fami­liar dispatch of Faulconers, mount his Pegasus, unhood his Muse, and with a few flights, boast he hath provided a feast for a Prince. Such posting upon Pegasus I have long since forborn; and during my journey in this Work have mov'd with a flow place; that I might make my surveyes as one that travelled not to bring home the names, but the proportion and nature of things: and in this I am made wise by two great examples; for the friends of Virgil acknowledge he was many years in doing honour to AEneas (still contracting at night into a closer force the abundance of his morning strengths) and Statius rather seems to boast then blush, when he con­fesses he was twice Seven years in renowning the War between Argos and Thebes.

Next to the usefulnesse of Time [Page 53] (which here implies ripe Age) I be­leev'd pains most requisite to this un­dertaking: for though painfulnesse in Poets (according to the usuall negli­gence of our Nation in examining, and their diligence to censure) seems alwayes to discover a want of naturall force, and is traduc'd, as if Poesie con­cern'd the world no more then Dan­cing; whose onely grace is the quick­nesse and facility of motion; and whose perfection is not of such pub­lick consequence, that any man can merit much by attaining it with long labour: yet let them consider, and they will find (nor can I stay long ere I convince them in the im­portant use of Poesie) the naturall force of a Poet more apparent, by but confessing that great forces ask great labour in managing, then by an arrogrant braving the world, when he enters the field with his undisci­plin'd first thoughts: For a wise Poet, like a wise Generall, will not shew his [Page 54] strengths till they are in exact govern­ment and order; which are not the postures of chance, but proceed from Vigilance and Labour.

Yet to such painfull Poets some up­braid the want of extemporary fury, or rather Inspiration; a dangerous word, which many have of late suc­cessfully us'd; and Inspiration is a spi­rituall Fit, deriv'd from the antient Ethnick Poets, who then, as they were Priests, were States-men too, and probably lov'd Dominion; and as their well dissembling of inspiration begot them reverence then, equall to that which was payd to Lawes; so these who now professe the same fury, may perhaps by such authentick example pretend authority over the people; It being not unreasonable to imagine, they rather imitate the Greek Poets then the Hebrew Prophets, since the later were inspir'd for the use of o­thers; and these, like the former, pro­phecy for themselves. But though [Page 55] the antient Poets are excus'd, as know­ing the weak constitution of those De­ities from whom they took their Priest­hood; and the frequent necessity of dissembling for the ease of government; yet these (who also from the chief to the meanest are States-men and Priests, but have not the luck to be Poets) should not assume such saucy familiarity with a true God.

From the time and labour requir'd to my Poem, let me proceed to my Assistants; by which I shall not so much attest my own weaknesse, as discover the difficulties and greatness of such a work. For when Solomon made use of his Neighbours towards his building, he lost no reputation, nor by demanding those aids was thought a lesser Prince; but rather publish'd his Wisedome, in rightly understanding the vast extent of his enterprise: who likewise with as much glory made use of Fellers of wood, and Hewers of Stone, as of learned [Page 56] Architects: Nor have I refrain'd to be oblig'd to men of any science, as well mechanicall as liberall: Nor when Memory (from that various and plen­tifull stock, with which all observers are furnish'd that have had diversity of life) presented me by chance with any figure, did I lay it a side as uselesse, because at that instant I was not skil­full to manage it artfully; but I have staid and recorded such objects, till by consulting with right Masters I have dispos'd of them without mi­stake; It being no more [...]hame to get Learning at that very time, and from the same Text; when, and by which, we instruct others; then for a for­ward Scout, discovering the Enemy, to save his own life at a Passe, where he then teacheas his Party to escape.

In remembring mine own helps, I have cons [...]dered those which others in the same necessity have taken; and find that Writers (contrary to my inclination) are apter to be beholding [Page 57] to Books then to men; not onely as the first are more in their possession (being more con [...]tant Companions then dearest friends) but because they commonly make such use of treasure found in Books, as of other treasure belonging to the Dead and hidden under ground; for they dispose of both with great secrecy, defacing the shape or images of the one, as much as of the other; through fear of ha­ving the Originall of their stealth, or abundance discovered. And the next cause why Writers are more in Li­braries then in Company, is, that Books are easily open'd, and learned men are usually shut up by a froward or envious humour of retention; or else unfold themselves, so as we may reade more of their weaknesse and vanity then Wisdome; imitating the Holiday custome in great cities, where the shops of Chaundry and slight wares are fa­miliarly open, but those of solid and staple merchandise are proudly lock'd up.

[Page 58] Nor indeed can it be expected that all great Doctours are of so benigne a nature, as to take pains in gaining treasure (of which Knowledge is the greatest) with intent to inrich others so easily, as if they stood every where with their Pockets spread, and ready to be pickt: Nor can we reade of a­ny Father, who so farre and secretly adopted his Sonne to a Book of his own writing, as that his Son might be thought Authour of that written Wit, as much as his Father was Au­thour of him: Nor of any Husband that to his darling Wife would so far surrender his Wisedome, as that in pu­blick, he could endure to let her use his Dictates, as if she would have others think her wiser then himself. By this remembrance of that usuall parcimony in owners of Wit, towards such as would make use of their plen­ty; I lament the fortune of others, and may wish the Reader to congratulate mine; For I have found Friends as [Page 59] ready as Books, to regulate my con­ceptions, or make them more correct, easie, and apparent. But though I am become so wise, by knowing my self, as to believe the thoughts of divers transcend the best which I have written; yet I have admitted from no man any change of my De­signe, nor very seldome of my Sence; For I resolv'd to have this Poem sub­sist, and continue throughout, with the same Complexion and Spirit; though it appear but like a plain fami­ly, of a neighbourly alliance, who mar­ry into the same moderate quality and garb, and are fearfull of introducing strangers of greater ranke, lest the shi­ning presence of such, might seem to upbraid, and put all about them out of countenance.

And now, Sir, that the Reader may (whom Writers are fain to court, draw in, and keep with artifice, so shy men grow of Books) believe me worthy of him, I cannot forbear [Page 60] to thank you in publick, for exami­ning, correcting, and allowing this Poem in parcels ere it arriv'd at the contexture: by which you have per­form'd the just degrees of proceeding with Poets; who, during the gayetie and wantonnesse of the Muse, are but as children to Philosophers (though of some Giant race) whose first thoughts (wild, and roaming farre off) must be brought home, watch'd, and interrogated, and af [...]er they are made more regular, be encourag'd and prais'd for doing well, that they may delight in aiming at perfection. By such a Method the Muse is taught to become Master of her own and others strength: and who is he so learn'd (how proud soever with being cherish'd in the bosome of Fame) that can hope, (when through the severall wayes of Science, he seeks Na­ture in her hidden walks) to make his Journey short, unlesse he call you to be his Guide? and who so guided can [Page 61] suspect his safety, even when he tra­vels through the Enemy's countrey? For such is the vast field of Learning, where the learned (though not nume­rous enough to be an Army) lie as small parties, maliciously in Ambush, to destroy all new Men that look into their Quarters. And from such, you, and those you lead, are secure; because you move not by common Maps but have painfully made your own Pro­spect; and travel now like the Sunne, not to inform your self, but enlighten the World.

And likewise, when by the strict survey and Government that hath been had over this Po [...]m, I shall think to govern the Reader (who, though he be noble, may perhaps judge of su­preme Power like a very Commoner, and rather approve Authority, when it is in many, then in one) I must ac­quaint him, that you had not alone the trouble of establishing and destroy­ing; but injoy'd your intervalls and [Page 62] ease by two Colleagues; two that are worthy to follow you into the Closets of Princes; if the knowledge of Men past, (of whom Books are the remain­ing minds) or of the present (of whom Conversation is the usefull and lawfull Spy) may make up such greatnesse, as is fit for great Courts: or if the raies that proceed from the Poetick Pla­net be not a little too strong for the sight of modern Monarchs who now are too seldome taught in their youth, like Eaglets to fortifie their eyes by of­ten soaring near the Sun. And though this be here but my testimony, it is too late for any of you to disclaim it; for since you have made it valid by giving yours of GONDIBERT under your hands, you must be content to be us'd by me, as Princes are by their prefer'd Subjects, who in the very act of ta­king Honour, return it to the giver; as benefits receiv'd by the Creature manifest the power, and redound to the glory of the Creatour.

[Page 63] I am now, Sir, (to your great com­fort, that have been thus ill and long diverted) arriv'd at my last conside­ration, which is, to satisfie those who may inquire why I have taken so much pains to become an Authour? or why any man stayes so long sweating at the fire of Invention, to dresse the food of the Mind, when Readers have so imperfect stomachs, as they either de­vour Books with over hasty Digesti­on, or grow to loathe them from a Sur­fet? And why I more especially made my task an Heroick Poem? I shall involve the two first Questions in one; as submitting to be concern'd amongst the generality of Writers; whose Ene­mies being many, and now mine, we must joyn forces to oppose them.

Men are chiefly provok'd to the toil of compiling Books, by love of Fame, and often by officiousnesse of Conscience, but seldome with expecta­tion of Riches: for those that spend time in writing to instruct others, may [Page 64] find leasure to inform themselvs, how mean the provisions are which busie and studious minds can make for their own sedentary bodies: And Learned men (to whom the rest of the world are but Infants) have the same foolish affection in nourishing others minds, as Pelicans in feeding their young; which is, at the expence of the very subsistence of Life. 'Tis then appa­rent they proceed by the instigation of Fame or Conscience; and I believe many are perswaded by the first (of which I am One) and some are com­manded by the second. Nor is the de­sire of Fame so vain as divers have ri­gidly imagin'd; Fame being (when belonging to the Living) that which is more gravely call'd, a steddy and necessary reputation; and without it, hereditary Power, or acquired great­nesse can never quietly govern the World. 'Tis of the Dead a musicall glory, in which God, the authour of excellent goodnesse, vouchsafes to [Page 65] take a continuall share; For the re­membred virtues of g [...]eat men are chiefly such of his works (mentioned by King David) as perpetually praise him: and the good fame of the Dead prevails by example much more then the reputation of the Living, because the later is alwayes suspected by our Envy, but the other is cheerfully al­low'd and religiously admir'd: for Admiration (whose Eyes are ever weak) stands still, and at gaze upon great things acted farre off; but when they are near, walks slightly away as from familiar objects. Fame is to our Sonnes a solid Inheritance, and not unusefull to remote Posterity; and to our Reason, 'tis the first, though but a little taste, of Eternity.

Those that write by the command of Conscience (thinking themselves able to instruct others, and consequent­ly oblig'd to it) grow commonly the most voluminous; because the pres­sures of Conscience are so incessant, [Page 66] that she is never satisfi'd with doing enough: for such as be newly made the captives of God (many appearing so to themselves, when they first begin to wear the fetters of Conscience) are like common Slaves, when newly taken; who, terrifi'd with a fancy of the se­verity of absolute Masters, abuse their diligence out of fear, and do ill, rather then appear idle. And this may be the cause why Libraries are more then double-lin'd with Spirituall Books or Tracts of Morality; the later being the Spirituall Counsels of Lay-men; and the newest of such great volumes (being usually but transcriptions or translations) differ so much from the Antients, as later dayes from those of old, which difference is no more then an alteration of names, by removing the Ethnicks to make way for the Sa [...]nts. These are the effects of their labours, who are provok'd to become Authours, meerly out of Conscience; and Conscience we may again averre [Page 67] to be often so unskilfull and timorous, that it seldome gives a wise and steddy account of God; but grows jealous of him, as of an Adversary, and is after melancholy visions like a fearful Scout, after he hath ill survey'd the Enemy, who then makes incong [...]uous, long, and terrible Tales.

Having confess'd that the desire of Fame made me a Writer; I must de­clare, why in my riper age I chose to gain it more especially by an Heroi­call Poem; and the Heroick being by most allow'd to be the most beau­tifull of Poems, I shall not need to decide the quarrels of Poets about the Degrees of Excellence in Poesie: but 'tis not amisse ere I avow the useful­nesse of the science in generall (which was the cause of my undertaking) to remember the value it had from the greatest and most worthy spirits in all Ages: For I will not abstain (though it may give me the reputa­tion but of common reading) to [Page 68] mention, that Pisistratus, (though a Tyrant) liv'd with the Praise and dy'd with the Blessing of all Greece, for gathering the scatter'd limbs of Homer's Works into a Body; and that Great Alexander, by publickly conversing with it, attain'd the uni­versall opinion of wit; the fame of such inward forces conducing as much to his Conquests, as his Armies abroad: That the Athenian prisoners were thought worthy of life and liber­ty for singing the Tragedies of Euri­pides: That Thebes was sav'd from de­struction by the Victors reverence to the memory of Pindar: That the elder Scipio (who govern'd all the Civil world) lay continually in the bosome of E [...]nius: That the great Numanti [...] and Laelius (no lesse renown'd) were openly proud when the Romans be­liev'd they assisted Terence in his Co­medies: That Augustus (to whom the mysteries of universall Empire were more familiar then domestick Do­minion [Page 69] to Modern Kings) made Virgil the partner of his joyes, and would have divided his businesse with Horace: and that Lucan was the fear and envy of Nero. If we approach nearer our own times, we may add the triumphall Entry which the Pa­pacy gave to Petrarch; and how much Tasso is still the glory and delight of Italy.

But as in this hasty Muster of Poet [...] and listing their confederates, I shall by omitting many, deprive them of that pay which is due from Fame; so I may now by the opinion of some Divines (whom notwithstanding I will reverence in all their distinct ha­bits and fashions of the mind) [...]e held partiall and too bold, by adding to the first number (though I range them upon holy ground and aside) Moses, David, and Solomon, for their Songs, Psalmes, and Anthemes: the second being the acknowledg'd Fa­vourite of God, whom he had gain'd by [Page 70] excellent Praises in sacred Poesie. And I fear (since Poesie is the clearest light by which they find the soul who seek it) that Poets have in their fluent kind­nesse diverted from the right use, and spent too much of that spirituall talent in the honour of mortall Princes: for divine Praise (when in the high per­fection, as in Poets, and onely in them) is so much the uttermost and whole of Religious worship, that all other parts of Devotion serve but to make it up.

Gondibert lib. 2. Canto. 6.
89.
Praise, is Devotion fit for mighty Minds;
The diff'ring World's agreeing Sa­crifice;
Where Heaven divided Faiths united finds:
But Pray'r in various discord up­ward flies.
90.
For Pray'r the Ocean is, where di­versly
Men steer their course, each to a sev'rall Coast;
Where all our Int'rests so discordant be,
That half beg winds by which the rest are lost.
91.
By Penitence when We our selves for sake,
'Tis but in wise designe on pileous Heaven;
In Praise We nobly give what God may take,
And are without a Beggars blus [...] forgiven.
92.
Its utmost force, like Powder's, is un­known;
[Page 72] And though weak Kings excesse of Praise may fear,
Yet when 'tis here, like Powder dan­g'rous grown,
Heaven's Vault receives what would The Palace tear.

After this contemplation, how ac­ceptable the voyce of Poesie hath been to God, we may (by descend­ing from Heaven to Earth) consider how usefull it is to Men; and among Men, Divines are the chief, because ordain'd to temper the rage of humane power by spirituall menaces, as by sudden and strange threatnings, mad­nesse is frighted into reason; and they are [...]ent hither as Liegers from God, to conserve in stedfast motion the slippery joynts of Government; and to perswade an amity in divided Nations: therefore to Divines I first addresse my self; and presume to ask them, why, ever since their Dominion was first allow'd, at the great change of [Page 73] Religions, (though ours, more then any, inculcates obedience, as an easie Medicine to coole the impatient and raging World into a quiet rest) man­kind hath been more unruly then be­fore? it being visible that Empire decreas'd with the encrease of Chri­stianity; and that one weak Prince did antiently su [...]fice to govern many strong Nations: but now one little Province is too hard for their own wise King: and a small Republick hath seventy years maintein'd thei [...] revolt to the disquiet of many Mo­narchs. Or if Divines reply, we can­not expect the good effects of their o [...]fice, because their spirituall Domi­nion is not allow'd as absolute; then it may be ask'd them more severely, why 'tis not allow'd? for whereever there hath been great degrees of power (which hath been often, and long in the Church) it discovers (though worldly vicissitude be objected as an excuse) that the Mannagers of such [Page 74] power, since they endeavour'd not to enlarge it, believ'd the increase un­righteous; or were in acting, or con­triving that endeavour, either negli­gent or weak: For Power like the hasty Vine, climbs up apace to the Supporter; but if not skilfully attend­ed and dr [...]ss'd, instead of spreading, and bearing fruit, grows high, and naked; and then (like empty title) being soon uselesse to others, becomes neglected, and unable to support it self.

But if Divines have fail'd in go­verning Princes (that is, of being in­tirely believ'd by them) yet they might obliquely have rul'd them, in ruling the People; by whom of late, Princes have been govern'd; and they might probably rule the People, because the Heads of the Church (where ever Christianity is preach'd) are Te [...]ra [...]chs of Time; of which they command the fourth Division; for to no lesse the Sabbaths, and Dayes of Saints a­mount; [Page 75] and during those dayes of spi­rituall triumph, Pulpits are Thrones; and the people oblig'd to open their Ears, and let in the ordinances and commands of Preachers; who likewise are not without some little Regency throughout the rest of the Year; for then they may converse with the Laity, from whom they have com­monly such respect (and respect soon opens the door to perswasion) as shew's their Congregations not deaf in those holy seasons, when Speaking predominates.

But notwithstanding these advan­tages, the Pulpit hath little prevail'd; for the World is in all Regions re­vers'd, or shaken by disobedience; an Engine with which the great Angels (for such were the Devils, and had faculties much more sublim'd then Men) believ'd they could disorder Heaven. And 'tis not want of capa­city in the lower Auditory that makes Doctrine so unsuccessfull; for the Peo­ple [Page 76] are not simple, since the Gentry (euen of strongest Education) lack sufficient defence against them, and are hourely surpris'd in (their common Ambushes) their Shops: For on sacred Dayes they walke gravely and sadly from Temples, as if they had newly bury'd their sinfull Fathers; at night sleep as if they never needed forgive­nesse; and rise with the next Sunne, to lye in wait for the Noble, and the Stu­dious. And though these quiet Cous­ners are amongst the People, esteem'd their steddy Men; yet they honour the Courage, and more active parts of such disobedient Spirits, as disdain­ing thus tamely to deceive, attempt bravely to rob the State; and the State they believe (though the Helme were held by Apostles) would alwayes consist of such Arch-robbers, as who ever strips them, but waves the tedious satisfaction which the Lazy expect from Laws, and comes a shorter way to his own.

[Page 77] Thus unapt for obedience (in the condition of Beasts whose appetite is Liberty, and their Liberty a licence of Lust) the People have often been, since a long and notorious power hath continu'd with Divines; whom though with reverence we accuse for mistaken Lenity; yet are we not so cruell to expect they should behave themselves to sinners like fierce Phi­neas, or preach with their Swords drawn, to kill all they cannot per­swade: But our meaning is, to shew how much their Christian meekness hath deceiv'd them in taming this wilde Monster, the People; and a lit­tle to rebuke them for neglecting the assistance of Poets; and for upbrai­ding the Ethnicks, because the Poets mannag'd their Religion; as if Reli­gion could walk more prosperously abroad then when Morality (respect­fully, and bare-headed as her Usher) prepares the way: it being no less true that during the Dominion of Poesie, [Page 78] a willing and peacefull obedience to Superiours becalm'd the World; then that obedience like the Marriage yoke, is a restraint more needfull and advantageous then liberty; and hath the same reward of pleasant quiet­nesse, which is antiently had, when Adam, till his disobedience, enjoy'd Paradise. Such are the effects of sa­cred Poesie which charm's the Peo­ple with harmonious precepts; and whose aid Divines should not dis­dain, since their Lord (the Saviour of the World) vouchsaf'd to deliver his Doctrine in Parabolicall Fictions.

Those that be of next importance are Leaders of Armies; and such I measure not by the suffrages of the People, who give them respect as Indians worship the evil Spirit, rather for fear of harm, then for affection; but esteem them as the painfull Pro­tectours, and enlargers of Empire by whom it actively moves; and such active motion of Empire is as necessa­ry [Page 79] as the motion of the Sea where all things would putrifie, and infect one an other, if the Element were quiet; so is it with mens minds on shore, when that Element of greatnesse and honour, Empire, stands still; of which the largenesse is likewise as needfull, as the vastnesse of the Sea; For God ordain'd not huge Empire as proporti­onable to the Bodies, but to the Minds of Men; and the Minds of Men are most monstrous, and require more space for agitation and the hunting of others, then the Bodies of Whales: But he that believes men such mode­rate Sheep as that many are peacefully contain'd in a narrow Fold, may be better inform'd in America; where little Kings never injoy a harml [...]sse neighbourhood, unlesse protected de­fensively amongst themselves, by an Emperour that hath wide possessions, and prioritie over them (as in some few places) but when restrain'd in nar­row dominion, where no body com­mands [Page 80] and hinders their nature, they quarrell like Cocks in a Pit; and the Sun in a dayes travell there, [...]ees more battles (but not of consequence, because their Kings though many, are little) then in Europe in a Year.

To Leaders of Armies, as to very necessary Men (whose o [...]fice requires the uttermost aids of art, and Na­ture, and rescues the sword of Justice, when 'tis wrested from supream Power by Commotion) I am now address'd; and must put them in mind (though not upbraidingly) how much their Mighty Predecessours were antiently oblig'd to Poets; whose Songs (re­cording the praises of Conduct and Valour) were esteem'd the chiefest rewards of Victory; And since Na­ture hath made us prone to Imita­tion (by which we equall the best or the worst) how much those Images of Action prevail upon our minds, which are delightfully drawn by Po­ets: For the greatest of the Grecian [Page 81] Captains have confess'd, that their Counsells have been made wise, and their Courages warm, by Homer: and since Praise is a Pleasure which God hath invited, and with which he often vouchsaf'd to be pleas'd when it was sent him by his own Poet; why is it not lawfull for virtuous men to be cherish'd, and magnifi'd with hearing their vigilance, Valour, and good fortune (the latter being more the immediate gift of Heaven, be­cause the effect of an unknown cause) commended, and made eter­nall in Poesie? But perhaps the art of praising Armies into great, and instant action, by singing their former deeds (an Art with which the Antients made Empire so large) is too subtle for Modern Leaders; who as they cannot reach the heighths of Poesie, must be content with a narrow space of Dominion: and narrow Dominion breeds evil, peevish, and vexatious minds, and a nationall self-opinion, [Page 82] like simple Jewish arrogance; and the Jews were extraordinary proud in a very little Countrey: For men in con­tracted governments are but a kind of Prisoners; and Prisoners by long re­straint grow wicked, malicious to all a­broad, and foolish esteemers of them­selves; as if they had wrong in not en­joying every thing which they can one­ly see out of Windowes.

Our last application is to Statesmen; and Makers of Laws; who may be reasonably reduc'd to one; since the second differ no more from the first, then Judges (the Copies of Law­makers) differ from their Originals: for Judges, like all bold Interpteters, by often altering the Text, make it quite new; and States-men (who differ not from Law-makers in the act, but in the manner of doing) make new Laws presumptuously without the consent of the People; but Legislators more civilly seem to whistle to the Beast, and stroak him into the Yoke: [Page 83] and in the Yoke of State, the People (with too much pampering) grow soon unruly and draw awry; Yet States-men and Iudges (whose busi­nesse is governing, and the thing to be govern'd is the People) have amongst us (we being more proud and mista­ken then any other famous Nation) look'd gravely upon Poetry, and with a negligence that betray'd a Norther­ly Ignorance; as if they believ'd they could perform their work with­out it. But Poets (who with wise di­ligence study the People, and have in all ages, by an insensible influence go­vern'd their manners) may justly smile when they perceive that Divines, Lea­ders of Armies, States-men and Iud­ges, think Religion, the Sword, or (which is unwritten Law, and a se­cret confederacy of Chiefs) Policy, or Law (which is written, but seldome rightly read) can give, without the help of the Muses, a long and quiet satisfaction in government: For Religion [Page 84] is to the wicked and faithlesse (who are many) a jurisdiction against which they readily rebell: because it rules se­verely, yet promiseth no worldly re­compence for obedience; obedience being by every humane power invited with assurances of vi [...]ible advantage. The Good (who are but few) need not the power of Religion to make them better, the power of Religion proceeding from her threatnings, which though mean Weapons, are fitly us'd, since she hath none but base Enemies. We may observe too, that all Virtuous men are so taken up with the rewards of Heaven, that they live as if out of the World; and no government receives assistance from any man meerly as he is good; but as that goodnesse is active in temporall things.

The Sword is in the hand of Iustice no guard to Government, but then when Iustice hath an Army for her own defence; and Armies, if they were not pervertible by Faction, yet [Page 85] are to Common-wealths like Kings Physicians to poor Patients; who buy the cure of their disordered bodies at so high a rate, that they may be said to change their Sicknesse for Famine. Policy (I mean of the Living, not of the Dead; the one being the last rules or designs governing the Instant; the other, those Laws that began Em­pire) is as mortall as States-men them­selves; whose incessant labour make that Hectick Fever of the mind, which insensibly dispatches the bo­dy: and when we trace States-men through all the Histories of Courts, we find their Inventions so unne­cessary to those that succed at the Helm, or so much envy'd as they scarce last in authority till the Inven­tours are buried: and change of De­signs in States-men (their designs being the Weapons by which States are de­fended) grows as destructive to Go­vernment, as a continuall change of various Weapons is to Armies; which [Page 86] must receive with ruine any sudden assault, when want of practise makes unactivenesse. We cannot urge that the ambition of States-men (who are obnoxious to the People) doth much disorder Government; because the peo­ples anger, by a perpetuall coming in of new Oppressours is so diverted in considering those whom their Eyes but lately left, as they have not time enough to rise for the Publick: and evill successours to Power are in the troubled Stream of State like succed­ing Tides in Rivers, where the mud of the former is hidden by the filth of the last.

Laws, if very antient, grow as doubtfull and difficult as Letters on bury'd Marble, which onely Antiqua­ries reade; but if not Old, they want that reverence which is therefore paid to the virtues of Ancestours, because their crimes come not to our remem­brance; and yet great Men must be long dead whose ills are forgotten. If [Page 87] Laws be New, they must be made either by very Angels, or by Men that have some vices; and those being seen, make their Virtues suspected; for the People no more esteem able men, whose defects they know, (though but errours incident to Hu­manity) then an Enemy values a strong Army having experience of their Errours. And new Laws are held but the projects of necessitous Power, new Nets spread to intangle us; the Old being accounted too many, since most are believ'd to be made for Forfeitures: and such letting of bloud (though intended by Law­makers for our health) is to the peo­ple alwayes out of Season: for those that love life with too much Passion (and Money is the life-bloud of the People) ever fear a Consumption. But, be Law-makers as able as Nature or Experience (which is the best Art) can make them; yet, though I will not yield the Wicked to be wiser then [Page 88] the Virtuous, I may say, offences are too hard for the Laws, as some Beasts are too wylie for their Hunters; and that Vice overgrows Virtue, as much as Weeds grow faster then medicinable Herbs: or rather that Sinne, like the fruitfull slime of Nilus, doth increase into so many various shapes of Serpents (whose walks and retreats are winding and unknown) that even Iustice (the painfull pursuer of Mischief) is be­come weary and amaz'd.

After these Meditations, me thinks Government resembles a Ship, where though Divines, Leaders of Armies, States-men, and Iudges are the trusted Pilots; yet it moves by the means of Winds, as uncertain as the breath of Opinion; and is laden wIth the Peo­ple; a Freight much looser and more dangerous then any other living stowage; being as troublosome in fair weather, as Horses in a Storm. And how can these Pilots steddily maintain their Course to the Land [Page 89] of Peace and Plenty, since they are often divided at the Helm? For Di­vines (when they consider great Chiefs) suppose Armies to be sent from God for a temporary Plague, not for continuall Jurisdiction; and that Gods extreme punishments (of which, Ar­mies be the most violent) are ordained to have no more lastingnesse then the extremes in Nature. They think (when they consider States-men) Policy hath nothing of the Dove, and being all Serpent, is more dangerous, then the dangers it pretends to prevent: and that out-witting (by falshood and cor­ruption) adverse States, or the People (though the people be often the greater enemy and more perilsome being near­est) is but giving reputation to Sinne, and that to maintain the Publick by Politick evils, is a base prostitution of Religion, and the prostitution of Religion is that unpardonable whore­dome which so much anger'd the Prophets. They think Law nothing [Page 90] but the Bible forcibly usurp'd by co­vetous Lawyers, and disguis'd in a Paraphrase more obscure then the Text; and that 'tis onely want of just reverence to Religion which doth ex­pose us to the charges and vexations of Law.

The Leaders of Armies, accuse Di­vines for unwisely raising the Warre of the World by opposite Doctrine, and for being more indiscreet in thinking to appease it by perswasion; forgetting that the dispatchfull ending of Warre is blows; and that the naturall region for Disputes, when Nations are en­gag'd (though by Religion) is the Field of Battel, not Schools and Academies; which they believe by their restlesse controversies lesse civil then Camps; as intestine Quarrel is held more barbarous then forreign War. They think States-men to them (unlesse dignifi'd with Military office) but mean Spies that like African foxes (who attend on Lions, ranging before [Page 91] and about, for their valiant prey) shrink back till the danger be sub­du'd, and then with insatiate hunger come in for a share: Yet sometimes with the Eye of Envy (which inlarges objects like a multiplying-glasse) they behold these States-men, and think them immense as Whales; the motion of whose vast bodies can in a peacefull calm trouble the Ocean till it boil; after a little hasty wonder, they consi­der them again with disdain of their low constraints at Court; where they must patiently endure the little follics of such small favourites as wait even near the wisest Thrones; so fantasti­cally weak seem Monarchs in the sicknesse of Care (a fever in the head) when for the humorous pleasure of Diversity, they descend from Purple beds, and seek their ease upon the ground. These great Leaders say also that Law moves slowly, as with fet­ter'd feet, and is too tedious in redresse of wrongs; whilst in Armies, Justice [Page 92] seems to ride poste, and overtakes Offenders ere the contagion of crimes can infect others: and though in Courts and Cities great men fence often with her, and with a forcive slight put by her sword; yet when she retires to Camps, she is in a posture not onely to punish the offences of particular great­nesse, but of injurious Nations.

States-men look on Divines as men whose long solitude and Meditations on Heaven hath made them Stran­gers upon Earth: and 'tis acquaintance with the World, and knowledge of Man that makes abilities of Ruling: for though it may be said that a suffi­cient belief of Doctrine would bege [...] obedience (which is the uttermost design of governing) yet since di­versity of Doctrine doth distract all Auditours, and makes them doubt­fully dispose their obedience (even towards spirituall powers, on which many would have the temporall de­pend) therefore States-men think them­selves [Page 93] more fit to manage Empire then Divines; whose usefulnesse con­sists in perswasion; and perswasion is the last medicine (being the most desperate) which States-men apply to the distemper of the people: for their distemper is madnesse, and Madnesse is best cur'd with terrour and force. They think that Leaders of Armies are to great Empire, as great Rivers to the Continent; which make an easie accesse of such benefits as the Metro­polis (the seat of Power) would else at vast distances with difficulty reach: yet often like proud Rivers when they swell, they destroy more by once over­flowing their borders at home, then they have in long time acquir'd from abroad: They are to little Empire like the Sea to low Islands; by nature a defense from Forreigners, but by ac­cident, when they rage, a deluge to their own shore. And at all seasons States-men believe them more dange­rous to government then themselves: [Page 94] for the popularity of States-men is not so frequent as that of Generalls; or if by rare sufficiency of Art it be gain'd, yet the force of Crouds in Cities, compar'd to the validity of men of Arms and Discipline, would appear like the great number of Sheep to a few Wolves, rather a cause of Com­fort then of Terrour. They think that chief Ministers of Law by unskilfull integrity, or love of popularity (which shews the Mind as meanly born as bred) so earnestly pursue the pro­tection of the Peoples right, that they neglect the publick Interest; and though the Peoples right and pub­lick Interest be the same, yet usually by the People, the Ministers of Law mean Private-men, and by the other, the State; and so the State and the People are divided, as we may say a man is divided within himself, when reason and passion (and Passion is folloy) dispute about consequent actions; and if we were call'd to assist [Page 95] at such intestine warre, we must side with Reason, according to our duty by the Law of Nature; and Natures Law, though not written in Stone (as was the Law of Religion) hath taken deep impression in the Heart of Man, which is harder then marble of Mount Sinai.

Chief Ministers of Law think, Di­vines in Government, should like the Penall Statutes, be choicely and but seldome us'd; for as those Statutes are rigorously inquisitive after veniall faults (punishing our very manners and weak constitution, as well as in­solent appetite; so Divines (that are made vehement with contemplating the dignity of the Offended (which is God) more then the frailty of the Offender) govern as if men could be made Angels ere they come to Heaven.

Great Ministers of Law think likewise that Leaders of Armies are like ill Physicians, onely fit for despe­rate [Page 96] cures, whose blindnesse calls in the assistance of Fortune, during the fears and troubles of Art: Yet the health they give to a distempered State is not more accidentall then the pre­servation of it is uncertain; because they often grow vain with successe, and encourage a restor'd State to such hazards, as shew like irregularity of life in other recover'd bodies; such as the cautions and antient gravity of Law disswades: For Law (whose tem­perate design is safety) rather pre­vents by constancy of Medicine (like a continu'd Diet) diseases in the Body-politick, then depends after a permitted Sicknesse upon the chance of recovery. They think States-men strive to be as much Judges of Law as themselves, being chief Ministers of Law, are Judges of the People; and that even good States-men pervert the Law more then evil Judges: For Law was antiently meant a Defen­sive Armour, and the people took it [Page 97] as from the Magazin of Justice, to keep them safe from each others violence: but States-men use it as offensive Arms, with which, in forraging to get relief for Supreme Power, they often wound the Publick.

Thus we have first observ'd the Four chief aids of Government, (Re­ligion, Arms, Policy, and Law) de­fectively apply'd, and then we have found them weak by an emulous warre amongst themselves: it follows next, we should introduce to streng­then those principall aids (still ma­king the People our direct object) some collaterall help; which I will safely presume to consist in Poesie.

We have observ'd that the People since the latter time of Christian reli­gion, are more unquiet then in former Ages: so disobedient and fierce, as if they would shake off the antient im­putation of being Beasts, by shewing their Masters they know their own strength: and we shall not erre by [Page 98] supposing that this conjunction of Fourfould Power hath faild in the ef­fects of authority, by a misapplica­tion; for it hath rather endeavoured to prevail upon their bodies, then their minds; forgetting that the martiall art of constraining is the best; which assaults the weaker part; and the wea­kest part of the people is their minds; for want of that which is the Mindes onely Strength, Education; but their Bodies are strong by continuall la­bour; for Labour is the Education of the body. Yet when I mention the misapplication of force, I should have said, they have not onely faild by that, but by a main errour; Because the sub­ject on which they should work is the Mind; and the Mind can never be constraind, though it may be gain'd by Perswasion: And since perswasion is the principall Instrument which one can bring to fashion the brittle and misha­pen mettal of the Mind; none are so fit aids to this important works, as [Page 99] Poets: whose art is more then any enabled with a voluntary, and cheer­full assistance of Nature; and whose operations are as resistlesse secret, easie, and subtle, as is the influence of Planets.

I must not forget (left I be preven­ted by the Vigilance of the Reader) that I have profe [...]s'd not to repre­sent the beauty of virtue in my Poem, with hope to perswade common men; and I have said that Divines have fail'd in discharging their share of Govern­ment, by depending upon the effects of Perswasion; and that States-men in managing the people rely not upon the perswasion of Divines, but upon force. In my despair of reducing the minds of Common men, I have not confest any weaknesse of Poesie in the generall Science; but rather in­fer'd the particular strength of the Heroick; which hath a force that over-matches the infancy of such minds as are not enabled by degrees [Page 100] of Education; but there are lesser for­ces in other kinds of Poesie, by which they may train, and prepare their un­derstandings; and Princes, and No­bles being reform'd and made Angeli­call by the Heroick, will be predomi­nant lights, which the People cannot chose but use for direction; as Glo­worms take in, and keep the Sun's [...]eams till they shine, and make day to themselves.

In saying that Divines have vainly hop'd to continue the peace of Govern­ment by perswasion, I have imply'd such perswasions as are accompany'd with threatnings, and seconded by force; which are the perswasions of Pulpits; where is presented to the Obstinate, Hell after Death; and the civill Ma­gistrate during Life constrains such o­bedience as the Church doth ordain. But the perswasions of Poesie in stead of menaces, are Harmonious and de­lightfull in [...]inuations, and never any constraint; unlesse the ravishment of [Page 101] Reason may be call'd Force. And such Force, (contrary to that which Di­vines, Commanders, States-men, and Lawyer's use) begets such obedience as is never weary or griev'd.

In declaring that States-men think not the State wholly secure by such manners as are bred from the perswasi­ons of Divines, but more willingly make Government rely upon military force; I have neither concluded that Poets are unprofi [...]able, nor that States­men think so; for the wisdome of Po­ets, would first make the Images of Virtue so amiable that her beholders should not be able to look off (ra­ther gently, and delightfully infu­sing then inculcating Precepts) and then when the mind is conquer'd, like a willing Bride, Force should so behave it self, as noble Husbands use their power: that is, by letting their Wives see the Dignity and prerogative of our Sex (which is the Husbands harmlesse conquest of Peace) conti­nually [Page 102] maintain'd to hinder Disobe­dience, rather then rigourously im­pose Duty: But to such an easie go­vernment, neither the People (which are subjects to Kings and States) nor Wives (which are subject to Husbands) can peacefully yield, unlesse they are first conquer'd by Virtue; and the Conquests of Virtue be never easie, but where her sorces are commanded by Poets.

It may be objected that the educa­tion of the Peoples minds (from whence Virtuous manners are de­riv'd) by the severall kinds of Poesie (of which the Dramatick hath been in all Ages very successfull) is opposite to the receiv'd opinion, that the Peo­ple ought to be continu'd in ignorance; a Maxime sounding like the little subtletie of one that is a States-man onely by Birth or Beard, and merits not his place by much thinking; For Ignorance is rude, censorious, jealous, obstinate, and proud; these being [Page 103] exactly the ingredients of which Diso­bedience is made; and Obedience proceeds from ample consideration, of which knowledge consists; and knowledge will soon put into one Scale the weight of oppression, and in the other, the heavie burden which Disobedience layes on us in the effects of civill Warre: and then even Tyran­ny will seem much lighter, when the hand of Supreme Power binds up our Load, and layes it artfully on us, then Disobedience (the Parent of Con­ [...]usion) when we all load one ano­ther; in which every one irregularly increases his fellows burden, to lessen his own.

Others may object that Poesie on our Stago, or the Heroick in Musick (for so the latter was antiently us'd) is prejudiciall to a State; as begetting Levity, and giving the People too great a diversion by pleasure and mirth. To these (if they be worthy of Satisfaction) I reply; That whoever [Page 104] in Government endeavours to make the People serious and grave, (which are attributes that may become the Peoples Representatives, but not the People) doth practise a new way to enlarge the State, by making every Subject a States-man: and he that means to govern so mournfully (as it were, without any Musick in his Dominion) must lay but light bur­dens on his Subjects; or else he wants the ordinary wisdome of those, who to their Beasts that are much loaden whistle all the day to encourage their Travail. For that supreme power which expects a firm obedience in those, who are not us'd to rejoycing, but live sadly, as if they were still pre­paring for the [...]unerall of peace, hath little skill in contriving the lasting­nesse of Government, which is the principall work of Art; And lesse hath that Power consider'd Nature; as if such new austerity did seem to tax, even her, for want of gravity in [Page 105] bringing in the Spring so merrily with a musicall variety of Birds; And such sullen power doth forget that Battels (the most solemne and serious businesse of Death) are begun with Trumpets and Fifes; and antiently were conti­nu'd with more diversity of Musick. And that the Grecian Laws (Laws being the gravest endeavour of hu­mane Councels, for the ease of Life) were long before the Dayes of Ly [...]ur­gus (to make them more pleasant to memory) publish'd in Verse: And that the wise Athenians (dividing into Three parts the publick Revenew) expended one in playes and Showes, to divert the people from meeting to consult of their Rulers merit, and the defects of Government: And that the Romans had not so long continu'd their Empire, but for the same diver­ [...]ions, at a vaster charge.

Again, it may be objected, that the precepts of Christian Religion are sufficient towards our regulation, by [Page 106] appointment of manners; and to­wards the ease of Life, by imposing obedience; so that the morall assi­stance of Poesie, is but vainly intru­ded. To this I may answer, that as no man should suspect the sufficiency of Religion by its unsuccessfulnesse, so if the unsuccessfulnesse be confess'd, we shall as little disparage Religion, by bringing in more aids when tis in action, as a Generall dishonours him­self by endeavouring with more of his own Forces to make sure an attempt that hath a while miscarri'd: For Po­esie, which (like contracted Essences seems the utmost strength and acti­vity of Nature) is as all good Arts, [...]ubservient to Religion; all marching under the same Banner, though of lesse discipline and esteem. And as Poesie is the best Expositour of Nature (Nature being mysterious to such as use not to consider) so Nature is the best Interpreter of God; and more cannot be said of Religion. And when [Page 107] the Judges of Religion (which are the Chiefs of the Church) neglect the help of Moralists in reforming the People (and Poets are of all Moralists the most usefull) they give a sen­tence against the Law of Nature: For Nature performs all things by corre­spondent aids and harmony. And 'tis injurious not to think Poets the most usefull Moralists; for as Poesie is adorn'd and sublim'd by Musick, which makes it more pleasant and acceptable; so morality is sweetned and made more amiable by Poesie. And the Austerity of some Divines may be the cause why Religion hath not more prevaild upon the manners of Men: for great Doctours should rather comply with things that please (as the wise Apostle did with Ceremo­nies) then lose a Proselyte. And even Honour (taught by morall Philoso­phers, but more delightfully infus'd by Poets) will appear (notwithstand­ing the sad severity of some later [Page 108] Divines) no unsafe Guide towards Piety; for it is as wary and nice as Conscience, though more cheer­full and courageous. And however Ho­nour be more pleasing to flesh and blood, because in this World it find's applause; yet 'tis not so mercinary as Piety: for Piety (being of all her ex­pectations inwardly assur'd) expects a reward in Heaven; to which all earth­ly payments compar'd, are but Sha­dows, and Sand.

And it appears that Poesie hath for its naturall prevailings over the Understandings of Men (sometimes making her conquests with easie plainnesse, like native countrey beauty) been very successfull in the most grave, and important occasions that the ne­cessities of States or Mankinde have produc'd. For it may be said that Demosthenes sav'd the Athenians by the Fable or Parable of the Doggs and Wolves, in answer to King Phi­lips proposition; And that Menenius [Page 109] Agrippa sav'd the Senate, if not Rome, by that of the Belly and the Hands: and that even our Saviour was pleas'd (as the most prevalent way of Doctrine) wholly to use such kind of Parables in his converting, or saving of Souls; it being written, Without a Parable spake he not to them. And had not the learned Apostle thought the wisdome of Poets wor­thy his remembrance, and instructive, not onely to Heathens, but to Chri­stians; he had not cited Epimenides to the Cretans, as well as Aratus to the Athenians.

I cannot also be ignorant, that di­vers (whose consciencious Melan­choly amazes and discourages others Devotion) will accuse Poets as the Admirers of Beauty, and Inventours, or Provokers of that which by way of aspersion they call Love. But such, in their first accusation seem to look carelesly and unthankfully upon the wonderfull works of God; or else [Page 110] through low education, or age, be­come incompetent Judges of what is the chief of his Works upon Earth. And Poets, when they praise Beauty, are at least as lawfully thankfull to God, as when they praise Seas, Woods, Rivers, or any other parts that make up a prospect of the World. Nor can it be imagin'd but that Poets in prai­sing them, praise wholly the Maker; and so in praising Beauty: For that wo­man who believes she is prais'd when her Beauty is commended, may as well suppose that Poets think she created her self: And he that praises the inward Beauty of Women, which is their Virtue, doth more perform his duty then before: for our envious silence in not approving, and so encouraging what is good, is the cause that Vice is more in fashion and countenance then Virtue. But when Poets praise that which is not Beauty, or the Mind which is not virtuous, they erre through their mi­stake [Page 111] or by flattery; and flattery is a crime so much more prosperous in others who are Companions to Great­nesse, that it may be held in Poets ra­ther Kindnesse then Design.

They who accuse Poets as Provo­kers of Love, are Enemies to Nature; and all affronts to Nature are offences to God, as insolencies to all subordi­nate Officers of the Crown are rude­nesses to the King. Love (in the most obnoxious interpretation) is Nature's Preparative to her greatest Work, which is the making of Life. And since the severest Divines of these later times have not been asham'd publickly to command and define the most secret duties, and entertain­ments of Love in the Married; why should not Poets civilly endeavour to make a friendship between the Guests before they meet, by teaching them to dignifie each other with the utmost of estimation? And Marriage in Man­kind were as rude and unprepar'd as [Page 112] the hasty elections of other Creatures, but for acquaintance and conversation before it: and that must be an acquain­tance of Minds, not of Bodies; and of the Mind, Poesie is the most naturall and delightfull Interpreter.

When neither Religion (which is our Art towards God) nor Nature (which is Gods first Law to Man, though by Man least study'd) nor when Reason (which is Nature, and made Art by Experience) can by the Enemies of Poesie be sufficiently urg'd against it; then some (whose froward­nesse will not let them quit an evil cause) plead written Authority. And though such authority be a Weapon, that even in the Warre of Religion, distress'd Disputers take up, as their last shift; yet here we would protest against it, but that we find it makes a false defence, and leaves the Ene­my more open. This authority (which is but single too) is from Plato; and him some have maliciously quoted; as [Page 113] if in his feign'd Common-wealth he had banish'd all Poets. But Plato saies nothing against Poets in generall; and in his particular quarrel (which is to Homer and Hesiod) onely condemnes such errours as we mention'd in the beginning of this Preface, when we look'd upon the Antients. And those errours consist in their abasing Reli­gion, by representing the Gods in evill proportion, and their Heroes with as unequal Characters; and so brought Vices into fashion, by in­termixing them with the Virtues of great Persons. Yet even during this divine anger of Plato, he concludes not against Poesie, but the Poems then most in request: for these be the words of his Law. If any Man (ha­ving ability to imitate what he pleases) imitate in his Poems both good and evil, let him be reverenc'd, as a sacred admi­rable, and pleasant Person; but be it likewise known, he must have no place in our Common-wealth. And yet before [Page 114] his banishment, he allows him, the honour of a Diadem, and sweet Odours to anoint his Head: and afterwards sayes, Let us make use of more profi­table, though more severe, and lesse pleasant Poets, who can imitate that which is for the honour and benefit of the Common-wealth. But those who make use of this just indignation of Plato to the unjust scandall of Poesie, have the common craft of false Wit­nesses, inlarging every circumstance, when it may hurt, and concealing all things that may defend him they op­pose. For they will not remember how much the Scholar of Plato (who like an absolute Monarch over Arts, hath almost silenc'd his Master throughout the Schools of Europe) labours to make Poesie universally current, by giving Laws to the Science: Nor will they take notice in what dignity it continu'd whilst the Greeks kept their Dominion or Language; and how much the Romans cherish'd [Page 115] even the publick repetition of Verses Nor will they vouchsafe to observe (though Iuvenal take care to re­cord it) how gladly all Rome (during that exercise) ranne to the voyce of Statius.

Thus having taken measure (though hastily) of the extent of those great Professions that in Govern­ment contribute to the necessities, ease, and lawfull pleasures of Men; and finding Poesie as usefull now, as the Antients found it towards per­fection and happinesse; I will, Sir, (unlesse with these two Books you return me a discouragement) cheer­fully proceed: and though a little time would perfect the Third, and make it fit for the Presse; I am resolv'd ra­rather to hazard the inconvenience which expectation breeds (for divers with no ill satisfaction have had a taste of GONDIBERT) then endure that violent envy which [Page 116] assaults all Writers whilst they live; though their Papers be but fill'd with very negligent and ordinary thoughts: and therefore I delay the publication of any part of the Poem, till I can send it you from America, whither I now speedi­ly prepare; having the folly to hope, that when I am in another World (though not in the common sense of dying) I shall find my Readers even the Poets of the present Age as temperate and benigne as we are all to the Dead, whose remote excellence cannot hinder our reputa­tion. And now, Sir, to end with the Allegory which I have so long continu'd, I shall (after all my busie vanity in shewing and descri­bing my new Building) with great quietnesse (being almost as weary as your self) b [...]ing you to the Back­dore, that you may make no review, but in my absence; and steal hastily [Page 117] from you, as one who is ashamed of all the trouble you have receiv'd from,

SIR,
Your most humble, and most affectionate Servant, WIL. D'AVENANT.

THE ANSVVER OF M r. HOBBS TO S r. WILLIAM D'AVENANT'S PREFACE before GONDIBERT.

SIR,

IF to commend your Poem, I should onely say (in ge­nerall terms) that in the choice of your Argument, the disposition of the parts, the mainte­nance of the Characters of your Per­sons, the Dignity and Vigour of your [Page 120] Expression you have performed all the parts of various experience, ready memory, clear judgement, swift and well govern'd fancy, though it were enough for the truth, it were too little for the weight and credit of my testi­mony. For I lie open to two Ex­ceptions, one of an incompetent, the other of a corrupted Witnesse. In­competent, because I am not a Poet; and corrupted with the Honour done me by your PREFACE. The for­mer obliges me to say something (by the way) of the Nature and differences of Poesie.

As Philosophers have divided the Universe (their subject) into three Regions, Celestial, AEriall, and Ter­restriall; so the Poets (whose work it is by imitating humane life, in de­lightfull and measur'd lines, to avert men from vice, and encline them to virtuous and honourable actions) have lodg'd themselves in the three Re­gions of Mankind, Court, City, and [Page 121] Countrey correspondent in some pro­portion, to those three Regions of the World. For there is in Princes and men of conspicuous power (antiently called Heroes) a lustre and influence upon the rest of men, resembling that of the Heavens; and an insincerenesse, inconstancy, and troublesome humour of those that dwell in populous Cities, like the mobility, blustring, and im­purity of the Air; and a plainnesse, and (though dull) yet a nutritive faculty in rurall people, that endures a compari­son with the Earth they labour.

From hence have proceeded three sorts of Poesie; Heroick, Scomma­tick, and Pastorall. Every one of these is distinguish'd again in the man­ner of Representation, which some­times is Narrative, wherein the Poet himself relateth, and sometimes Dra­matick, as when the persons are every one adorned and brought upon the Theatre, to speak and act their own parts. There is therefore neither more [Page 122] nor lesse then six sorts of Poesie. For the Heroick Poem narrative (such as is yours) is called an Epick Po­eme; The Heroick Poeme Dram­matick, is Tragedy. The Scomma­tick Narrative, is Satyre; Drammatick is Comedy. The Pastorall narrative, is called simply Pastorall (antiently Bu­colick) the same Dramatick, Pasto­rall Comedie. The Figure therefore of an Epick Poem, and of a Tragedy, ought to be the same, for they differ no more but in that they are pronoun­ced by one, or many persons. Which I insert to justifie the figure of yours, consisting of five books divided into Songs or Cantoes, as five Acts divided into Scenes has ever been the approved figure of a Tragedy.

They that take for Poesie what­soever is writ in Verse, will think this division imperfect, and call in Son­nets, Epigrammes, Eclogues, and the like pieces (which are but Essayes, and parts of an entire Poeme) and [Page 123] reckon Empedocles, and Lucretius (na­turall Philosophers) for Poets, and the morall precepts of Phocylides, Theognis, and the Quatrains of Py­brach, and the History of Lucan, and others of that kind amongst Poems; bestowing on such Writers for ho­nour the name of Poets, rather then of Historians or Philosophers. But the subject of a Poem is the manners of men, not naturall causes; manners presented, not dictated; and manners feigned (as the name of Po­esie imports) not found in men. They that give entrance to Fictions writ in prose, erre not so much, but they erre. For Poesie requireth delight­fulnesse, not onely of fiction, but of stile; in which if prose contend with Verse, it is with disadvantage (as it were) on foot, against the strength and wings of Pegasus.

For Verse amongst the Greeks was appropriated antiently to the service of their Gods and was the Holy stile; [Page 124] the stile of the Oracles; the stile of the Laws; and the stile of men that pu­blickly recommended to their Gods, the vows and thanks of the people; which was done in their holy Songs called Hymns; and the Composers of them were called Prophets and Priests before the name of Poet was known. When afterwards the ma­jesty of that stile was observed, the Poets chose it as best becoming their high invention. And for the Antiquity of Verse it is greater then the Antiqui­ty of Letters. For it is certain Cadmus was the first that (from Phoenicia, a countrey that neighboureth Iudea) brought the use of Letters into Greece. But the service of the Gods, and the laws (which by measured Sounds were easily committed to the memory) had been long time in use, before the arri­vall of Cadmus there.

There is besides the grace of stile, another cause why the antient Poets chose to write in measured language, [Page 125] which is this. Their Poems were made at first with intention to have them sung, as well Epique, as Dramatique (which custome hath been long time laid aside, but began to be revived in part, of late years in Italy) and could not be made commensurable to the Voyce or instruments, in Prose; the wayes and motions whereof are so uncertain and undistinguished, (like the way and motion of a Ship in the Sea) as not onely to discompose the best Composers, but also to disappoint sometimes the most attentive Reader, and put him to hunt counter for the sense. It was therefore necessary for Po­ets in those times, to write in Verse.

The verse which the Greeks, and Latines (considering the nature of their own languages) found by ex­perience most grave, and for an E­pique Poem most decent, was their Hexameter; a Verse limited, not onely in the length of the line, but also in the quantity of the syllables. In stead [Page 126] of which we use the line of ten sylla­bles, recompensing the neglect of their quantity, with the diligence of Rime. And this measure is so proper for an Heroick Poem, as without some losse of gravity and dignity, it was never changed. A longer is not farre from ill prose, and a shorter, is a kind of whisking (you know) like the unlacing, rather then the singing of a Muse. In an Epigramme or a Son­net, a man may vary his measures, and seek glory from a needlesse difficulty, as he that contrived verses into the forms of an Organ, a Hatchet, an Egg, an Altar, and a pair of Wings; but in so great and noble a work as is an Epick Poeme, for a man to obstruct his own way with unpro­fitable difficulties, is great impru­dence. So likewise to chuse a needlesse and difficult correspondence of Rime, is but a difficult toy, and forces a man sometimes for the stopping of a chink to say somewhat he did never think; [Page 127] I cannot therefore but very much approve your Stanza, wherein the syllables in every verse are ten, and the Rime, Alternate.

For the choice of your subject you have sufficiently justified your self in your Preface. But because I have ob­served in Virgil, that the Honour done to AEneas and his companions, has so bright a reflection upon Augustus Cesar, and other great Romanes of that time, as a man may suspect him not constantly possessed with the noble spirit of those his Heroes, and believe you are not acquainted with a­ny great man of the Race of Gondi­bert. I adde to your Justification the purity of your purpose, in having no other motive of your labour, but to a­dorn virtue, and procure her Lovers; then which there cannot be a worthier design & more becoming noble Poesie.

In that you make so small account of the example of almost all the ap­proved Poets, antient and moderne, [Page 128] who thought fit in the beginning, and sometimes also in the progresse of their Poemes, to invoke a Muse, or some other Deitie, that should dictate to them, or assist them in their wri­tings, they that take not the laws of Art, from any reason of their own, but from the fashion of precedent times, will perhaps accuse your singulari­ty. For my part, I neither subscribe to their accusation, nor yet condem [...]e that Heathen custome, otherwise then as necessary to their false Religi­on. For their Poets were their Di­vines; had the name of Prophets; Exercised amongst the people a kind of Spirituall Authority; would be thought to speak by a Divine spirit; have their works which they writ in Verse (the Divine stile) passe for the word of God, and not of man; and to be harkened to with reverence. Do not our Divines (excepting the stile) do the same, and by us that are of the same Religion cannot justly be repre­hended [Page 129] for it? Besides, in the use of the spirituall calling of Divines, there is danger sometimes to be feared, from want of skill, such as is reported of unskilfull Conjurers, that mista­king the rites and ceremonious points of their art, call up such spirits, as they cannot at their pleasure allay again; by whom storms are raised, that o­verthrow buildings, and are the cause of miserable wracks at Sea. Un­skilfull Divines do oftentimes the like, For when they call unseasonably for Zeal, there appears a spirit of Cruel­ty; and by the like errour instead of Truth they raise Discord; instead of Wisdome, Fraud; instead of Reforma­tion, Tumult; and Controversie instead of Religion. Whereas in the Heathen Poets, at least in those whose works have lasted to the time we are in, there are none of those indiscretions to be found, that tended to subver­sion or disturbance of the Common­wealths wherein they lived. But why [Page 130] a Christian should think it an orna­ment to his Poem, either to profane the true God, or invoke a false one, I can imagine no cause, but a reasonlesse imitation of custome; of a foolish cu­stome; by which a man, enabled to speak wisely from the principles of na­ture, and his own meditation, loves ra­ther to be thought to speak by inspira­tion, like a Bag-pipe.

Time and education beget expe­rience; Experience begets Memory; Memory begets Judgement and Fan­cy; Judgement begets the strength and structure, and Fancy begets the ornaments of a Poem. The Antients therefore fabled not absurdly, in ma­king memory the mother of the Mu­ses. For memory is the World (though not really, yet so as in a looking-glass) in which the Judgement (the severer Sister) busieth her self in a grave and rigid examination of all the parts of Nature, and in registring by Letters, their order, causes, uses, differences [Page 131] and resemblances; Whereby the Fan­cy, when any work of Art is to be performed, findeth her materials at hand and prepared for use, and needs no more then a swift motion over them, that what she wants, and is there to be had, may not lye too long unespied. So that when she seemeth to fly from one Indies to the other, and from Heaven to Earth, and to pe­netrate into the hardest matter, and obscurest places, into the future, and into her self, and all this in a point of time; the voyage is not very great, her self being all she seeks; and her wonderfull celerity, consisteth not so much in motion, as in copious Ima­gery discreetly ordered, and perfectly registred in the memory; which most men under the name of Philosophy have a glimpse of, and is pretended to by many that grossely mistaking her embrace contention in her place. But so farre forth as the Fancy of man has traced the wayes of true Philosophy, [Page 132] so farre it hath produced very marvel­lous effects to the benefit of mankind. All that is beautifull or defensible in building; or mervellous in Engines and Instruments of motion; What­soever commodity men receive from the observation of the Heavens, from the description of the Earth, from the account of Time, from walking on the Seas; and whatsoever distinguish­eth the civility of Europe, from the Barbarity of the American salvages, is the workmanship of Fancy, but guided by the Preceps of true Philo­sophy. But where these precepts fail, as they have hitherto failed in the doctrine of Morall virtue, there the Architect ( Fancy) must take the Philosophers part upon her self. He therefore that undertakes an Heroick Poem (which is to exhibite a ve­nerable and amiable Image of He­roick virtue) must not onely be the Poet, to place and connex, but also the Philosopher, to furnish and square [Page 133] his matter, that is, to make both body and soul, colour and shadow of his Poem out of his own store: which how well you have performed I am now considering.

Observing how few the persons be you introduce in the beginning, and how in the course of the actions of these (the number increasing) after severall confluences, they run all at last into the two principall streams of your Poem, Gondibert and Oswald, me thinks the Fable is not much un­like the Theatre. For so, from severall and farre distant Sources, do the lesser Brooks of Lombardy, flowing into one another, fall all at last into the two main Rivers, the Po, and the Adice. It hath the same resemblance also with a mans veins, which proceeding from different parts, after the like con­course, insert themselves at last into the two principall veins of the Body. But when I considered that also the actions of men, which singly are in­considerable, [Page 134] after many conjunctures, grow at last either into one great pro­tecting power, or into two destroying Factions; I could not but approve the structure of your Poem, which ought to be no other then such as an imitation of humane life requireth.

In the streams themselves I find nothing but setled Valour, clean Honour, calm Counsel, learned Di­version, and pure Love; save onely a torrent or two of Ambition, which (though a fault) hath somewhat He­roick in it, and therefore must have place in an Heroick Poem. To shew the Reader in what place he shall find every excellent picture of Virtue you have drawn, is too long. And to shew him one, is to prejudice the rest; yet I cannot forbear to point him to the Description of Love in the person of Birtha, in the seventh Canto of the second Book. There hath nothing been said of that subject neither by the Antient nor modern Poets com­parable [Page 135] to it. Poets are Painters: I would fain see another Painter draw so true, perfect, and naturall a Love to the Life, and make use of nothing but pure lines, without the help of any the least uncomely shadow, as you have done. But let it be read as a piece by it self, for in the almost equall heighth of the whole, the eminence of parts is Lost.

There are some that are not pleased with fiction, unlesse it be bold not onely to exceed the work, but also the possibility of nature: they would have impenetrable Armours, Inchant­ed Castles, invulnerable bodies, Iron men, flying Horses, and a thousand other such things which are easily feign'd by them that dare. Against such I defend you (without assenting to those that condemne either Homer or Virgil) by dissenting onely from those that think the Beauty of a Po­em consisteth in the exorbitancy of the fiction. For as truth is the bound [Page 136] of Historicall, so the Resemblance of truth is the utmost limit of Poeticall Liberty. In old time amongst the Heathens, such strange Fictions and Metamorphoses, were not so remote from the Articles of their Faith, as they are now from ours, and there­fore we are not so unpleasant. Beyond the actuall works of Nature a Poet may now go; but beyond the concei­ved possibility of Nature, never. I can allow a Geographer to make in the Sea, a fish or a ship, which by the scale of his Map would be two or three hundred miles long, and think it done for ornament, because it is done without the precincts of his under­taking; but when he paints an Ele­phant so, I presently apprehend it as ignorance, and a plain confession of Terra incognita.

As the description of great Men, and great Actions is the constant de­sign of a Poet; so the Descriptions of worthy circumstances are necessary [Page 137] accessions to a Poem, and being well performed, are the Jewels and most precious ornaments of Poesie. Such in Virgil, are the Funeral games of Anchises. The Duel of AEneas and Turnus, &c. And such in yours, are The Hunting. The Battel. The City Mourning. The Funeral▪ the House of Astragon. The Library. And the Temples. Equal to his, or those of Homer whom he imitated.

There remains now no more to be considered but the Expression, in which consisteth the countenance and colour of a beautifull Muse; and is given her by the Poet out of his own provision, or is borrowed from others. That which he hath of his own, is nothing but experience and knowledge of Nature, and specially humane Nature; and is th [...] true and naturall Colour. But that which is taken out of Books (the ordinary boxes of counterfeit Complexion) shews well or ill, as it hath more or [Page 138] lesse resemblance with the Naturall▪ and are not to be used (without exa­mination) unadvisedly. For in him that professes the imitation of Nature, (as all Poets do) what greater fault can there be, then to bewray an ignorance of nature in his Poem; especially ha­ving a liberty allowed him, if he meet with any thing he cannot master, to leave it out?

That which giveth a Poem the true and naturall Colour, consisteth in two things, which are, To know well; that is, to have images of nature in the memory distinct and clear; and To know much. A sign of the first is per­spicuity, property, and decency; which delight all sorts of men, either by instructing the ignorant, or sooth­ing the learned in their knowledge: A sign of the later is novelty of expres­sion, and pleaseth by excitation of the mind; for novelty causeth a dmiration; and admiration, curiosity; which is a delightfull appetite of knowledge.

[Page 137] There be so many words in use at this day in the English tongue, that, though of magnifick sound, yet (like the windy blisters of a troubled water) have no sense at all; and so many others that lose their meaning by being ill coupled, that it is a hard matter to avoid them; for having been obtruded upon Youth in the Schools (by such as make it, I think, their businesse there, as 'tis exprest by the best Poet)

With terms to charm the weak and pose the wise.
Gondib. 1 r. Cant. 5.

they grow up with them, and gaining reputation with the ignorant, are not easily shaken off.

To this palpable darknesse, I may also add the ambitious obscurity of expressing more then is perfectly con­ceived; or perfect conception in fewer words then it requires. Which Ex­pressions, though they have had the honour to be called strong lines, are in­deed no better then Riddles, and not [Page 138] onely to the Reader, but also (after a little time) to the Writer himself, dark and troublesome.

To the property of Expression, I re­ferre that clearnesse of memory, by which a Poet when he hath once intro­duced any person whatsoever, speaking in his Poem, maintaineth in him, to the end, the same Character he gave to him in the beginning. The varia­tion whereof, is a change of pace that argues the Poet tired.

Of the Indecencies of an Heroick Poem, the most remarkable are those that shew disproportion either between the persons and their actions, or between the manners of the Poet and the Poem. Of the first kind, is the uncomelinesse of representing in great persons the inhumane vice of Cruelty, or the sordid vices of Lust and Drunkennesse. To such parts as those, the Antient approved Poets thought it fit to suborn, not the per­sons of men, but of monsters and [Page 139] beastly Giants, such as Polyphemus, Cacus, and the Centaurs. For it is sup­posed, a Muse, when she is invoked to sing a song of that nature, should maidenly advise the Poet to set such persons to sing their own vices upon the stage; for it is not so unseemly in a Tragedy. Of the same kind it is to represent scurrility, or any action or language that moveth much laugh­ter. The delight of an Epique Poem consisteth not in mirth but in admira­tion. Mirth and laughter is proper to Comedy and Satyre. Great persons that have their minds employed on great designs have not leisure enough to laugh, and are pleased with the contemplation of their own power and virtues, so as they need not the infirmities and vices of other men to recommend themselves to their own favour by comparison, as all men do when they laugh. Of the second kind, where the disproportion is between the Poet, and the persons [Page 140] of his Poem, one is in the Dialect of the Inferiour sort of People which is alwayes different from the language of the Court. Another is to derive the Illustration of any thing, from such metaphors or comparisons as cannot come into mens thoughts, but by mean conversation, and experience of hum­ble or evil Arts, which the persons of an Epick Poem cannot be thought ac­quainted with.

From Knowing much, proceedeth the admirable variety and novelty of metaphors and similitudes, which are not possibly to be lighted on in the compasse of a narrow knowledge. And the want whereof compelleth a Writer to Expressions that are either defac'd by time, or sullied with vul­gar or long use. For the phrases of Poesie, as the airs of Musick, with often hearing become insipide; the Reader having no more sense of their force, then our Flesh is sensible of the bones that sustain it. As the sense we [Page 141] have of bodies, consisteth in change and variety of impression, so also do's the sense of language in the variety and changeable use of words. I mean not in the affectation of words newly brought home from travel, but in new (and withall, significant) translation to our purposes, of those that be al­ready received, and in farre fetch't (but withall, apt, instructive, and comely) sumilitudes.

Having thus (I hope) avoided the first Exception, against the Incom­petency of my Judgement: I am but little moved with the second; which is, of being bribed by the honour you have done me, by attributing in your Preface somewhat to my Judgement. For I have used your Judgement no losse in many things of mine, which coming to light will thereby appear the better. And so you have your bribe again.

Having thus made way for the ad­mission of my Testimony, I give it [Page 142] briefly thus; I never yet saw Poem that had so much shape of Art, health of Morality, and vigour and beauty of Expression, as this of yours. And but for the clamour of the multitude that hide their Envy of the present, under a Reverence of Antiquity, I should say further, that it would last as long as either the AEneid or Iliad, but for one Disadvantage. And the Disadvantage is this: The languages of the Greeks and Romans (by their Colonies and Conquest) have put off flesh and bloud, and are become immutable, which none of the Modern Tongues are like to be. I ho­nour Antiquity; but, that which is com­monly called old time, is young time. The glory of Antiquity is due, not to the Dead, but to the Aged.

And now, whilst I think on't, give me leave with a short discord to sweeten the Harmony of the approch­ing close. I have nothing to object against your Poem; but, dissent onely [Page 143] from something in your Preface, sounding to the prejudice of Age. 'Tis commonly said, that old Age is a re­turn to Child-hood. Which me thinks you insist on so long, as if you desired it should be beleeved. That's the Note I mean to shake a little. That saying, meant onely of the weak­nesse of body, was wrested to the weaknesse of mind, by froward chil­dren, weary of the controlment of their parents, masters, and other ad­monitours. Secondly, the dotage and childishnesse they ascribe to Age, is never the effect of Time, but some­times of the excesses of Youth, and not a returning to, but a continuall stay with Child-hood. For they that wanting the curiosity of furnishing their memories with the rarities of nature in their Youth, and passe their time in making provision onely for their ease and sensuall delight, are Children still, at what years soever; as they that coming into a populous [Page 144] city, never go out of their own Inne, are strangers still, how long soever they have been there. Thirdly, there is no reason for any man to think himself wiser to day then ye­sterday, which doth not equally con­vince he shall be wiser to morrow then to day.

Fourthly, you will be forced to change your opinion hereafter when you are old; and in the mean time you discredit all I have said before in your commendation, because I am old al­ready. But no more of this.

I believe (Sir) you have seen a cu­rious kind of perspective, where, he that looks through a short hollow pipe, upon a picture conteining di­verse figures, sees none of those that are there painted, but some one per­son made up of their parts, con­veighed to the eye by the artificiall cutting of a glasse. I find in my ima­gination an effect not unlike it from your Poem. The virtues you distri­bute [Page 145] there amongst so many noble Persons represent (in the reading) the image but of one mans virtue to my fancy, which is your own; and that so deeply imprinted, as to stay for ever there, and govern all the rest of my thoughts and affections in the way of honouring and serving you, to the utmost of my power, that am

SIR,
Your most humble, and obedient Servant, THOMAS HOBBS.
FINIS.

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