Friday, December 3, 2010

Treading Out a Perfect Path



ALLARME To England, foreshewing what perilles are procured, where the people liue without regarde of Martiall lawe.

With a short discourse conteyning the decay of warlike discipline, conuenient to be perused by Gentlemen, such as are desirous by seruice, to seeke their owne deserued prayse, and the preseruation of their countrey. Newly deuised and written by Barnabe Riche Gentleman.

Malui me diuitem esse quam vocari.

Perused and allowed.

1578.

(snip)
...There is yet an other sorte, that because they thinke it a shame to reade ouer any thing, & not to be able to minister some correction, because they wil not be thought to be so dul witted, wil finde some fault, if it be but with the Orthographie, and wil say, It was pitie this man would take in hande to write before he could spell.

To these I answer, As great folly might be ascribed to those that were their bringers vp, that would learne them to goe, before they had taught them to speake well.

But such is the delicacie of our readers at this time, that there are none may be alowed of to write, but such as haue bene trained at schoole with Pallas, or at the lest haue bene fostered vp with the Muses, and for my parte (without vaunt be it spoken) I haue bene a trauayler, I haue sayled in Grauesende Barge as farre as Billings gate, I haue trauayled from Buckelers bery to Basingstocke, I haue gone from S. Pankeridge church to Kentish towne by lande, where I was combred with many hedges, ditches, and other slippery bankes, but yet I could neuer come to those learned bankes of Helicon, neither was I euer able to scale Parnassus hyl, although I haue trauailed ouer Gaddes hyll in Kente, and that sundrie tymes and often.

No marueill then good reader, although I want such sugered sape, wherwith to sauce my sense, whereby it might seeme delightfull vnto thee: such curious Coxcombes therefore, which can not daunce but after Apollos pype, I wish them to cease any further to reade what I haue written: but thou which canst endure to reade in homely style of matters, more behooueful and necessarie, then eyther curiouse or fyled, goe thou forward on Gods name, and I doubt not, but by that time thou hast perused to the end, thou shalt find some thing to satisfie thy desire, whereby thou wilt confesse that al thy labour hath not bene bestowed in vayne. And thus I bid thee hartily Farewell.


(snip)

S. Stronge, in the behalf of the Authour.

IF painfull pilgryme for his toyle, deserues a guerdon due
In seeking of the sacred sorte, which vertue doth pursue:
Or if the wakeful watche in warre, do merit like reward,
Or cunning pylot that with skill, doth take his due regard,
To cut in twayne the billowes huge, that swell in Occean sea,
And keepes the keele aright his course, tyll wished port he wray:
Then (Ritche) that rings this larum bell, to warne his countreyes thrall,
And sortes (much like the busie bee) the hunny from the gall,
Deserues no lesse, in lieu thereof: such fruite I reape thereby,
As for my parte, a double prayse, I may him not deny.
The toyle to him no profit yeelds, he bites on bitter paine:
He hales home haruest for the chaffe, the reader reapes the graine.
He giues the sworde and shield in hande, to shroud thee from annoy,
He wisely warnes thee of the worse, lest foes might thee destroy:
He treades thee out a perfect path, oh England loude I crye,
Refuse therefore thy follies past, he sees thee goe awrye:
And leaue of al thy lustfull lyfe, and eke thy great excesse,
Thy dainty fare, thy fine array, and eke thy WANTONESSE.
Leaue of likewise thy vsance great, and leaue thy lawing vaine,
Lest for the present guyle thereof, there happe some future paine.
Yet God forbid but iustice should in eche thing beare the sway,
And lawe is good where lawe is vsde, I cannot this denay.
But so your Common lawes are courst, at will of euery pelth,
That common is the woe (God knowes) but priuate is the wealth.
*Do sorte thy selfe from Comedies, and foolish playes of loue,
Lest tragicall and worse perhaps in fine thee chaunce to proue*.
Take sword in hand, and leaue of ease, for nowe the tyme is comme,
The bell is rong, the trumpettes sound, all arme doth strike the dromme.
And thanke good (Ritch) that rings the same, to wake thee out of sleepe,
That thou thy selfe, that liuest at peace, in safetie still mightst keepe.
A iewel ritche and gemme of price, the same no doubt doth seeme,
A ritcher gifte for thy behoofe, he could not geue, I deeme.


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"Cicero describes the wonder grand style provokes (Orator, 28), which apparently leads Quintilian to refer to the grand style as the "admirabile dicendi genus" (Institutio, I.I.92). Contrariwise, Greek rhetoricians grant that there is a kind of BLOODLESS wonder in POLISHED style, but separate the aesthetic effect of display oratory from the emotional effect of political oratory. This qualified praise often takes the form of saying *a speaker is no Demosthenes*". See Dionysius of Halicarnassus, "Isocrates,"3, and "Longinus," On the Sublime, 8.3) (Footnote, p.42, Biester)

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Gabriel Harvey, Latin Address Gratulationes Valdinenses (to Edward de Vere), 1578

This is my welcome; this is how I have decided to bid All Hail!
to thee and to the other Nobles.
Thy splendid fame, great Earl, demands even more than in the case of
others
the services of a poet possessing lofty eloquence.
Thy merit doth not creep along the ground,
nor can it be confined within the limits of a song.
It is a wonder which reaches as far as the heavenly orbs.
O great-hearted one, strong in thy mind and thy fiery will,
thou wilt conquer thyself, thou wilt conquer others;
thy glory will spread out in all directions beyond the Arctic Ocean;
and England will put thee to the test and prove thee to be native-born
Achilles.
Do thou but go forward boldly and without hesitation.
Mars will obey thee, Hermes will be thy messenger,
Pallas striking her shield with her spear shaft will attend thee,
thine own breast and courageous heart will instruct thee.
For long time past Phoebus Apollo has cultivated thy mind in the
arts.
English poetical measures have been sung by thee long enough.
Let that Courtly Epistle -
more POLISHED even than the writings of Castiglione himself -
witness how greatly thou dost excel in letters.
I have seen many Latin verses of thine, yea,
even more English verses are extant;
thou hast drunk deep draughts not only of the Muses of France and
Italy,
but hast learned the manners of many men, and the arts of foreign
countries.
It was not for nothing that Sturmius ,<2> himself was visited by
thee;
neither in France, Italy, nor Germany are any such cultivated and
polished men.
O thou hero worthy of renown, throw away the insignificant pen, throw
away BLOODLESS books,
and writings that serve no useful purpose; now must the sword be
brought into play,
now is the time for thee to sharpen the spear and to handle great
engines of war.
On all sides men are talking of camps and of deadly weapons; war and
the Furies are everywhere,
and Bellona reigns supreme.
Now may all martial influences support thy eager mind, driving out the
cares of Peace.
Pull Hannibal up short at the gates of Britain. Defended though he be
by a mighty host,
let Don John of Austria come on only to be driven home again. Fate is
unknown to man,
nor are the counsels of the Thunderer fully determined.
And what if suddenly a most powerful enemy should invade our borders?
If the Turk should be arming his savage hosts against us?
What though the terrible war trumpet is even now sounding its blast?
Thou wilt see it all; even at this very moment thou art fiercely
longing for the fray.
I feel it. Our whole country knows it.
In thy breast is noble blood, Courage animates thy brow, Mars lives in
thy tongue,
Minerva strengthen thy right hand, Bellona reigns in thy body, within
thee burns the fire of Mars.
Thine eyes flash fire, thy countenance shakes a spear;
who would not swear that Achilles had come to life again?


*************************************
Henry V, Shakespeare

ACT I
PROLOGUE

Enter Chorus
Chorus
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars; and at his heels,
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword and fire
Crouch for employment. But pardon, and gentles all,
The flat unraised spirits that have dared
On this unworthy scaffold to bring forth
So great an object: can this cockpit hold
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram
Within this wooden O the very casques
That did affright the air at Agincourt?
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work.
Suppose within the girdle of these walls
Are now confined two mighty monarchies,
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts
The perilous narrow ocean parts asunder:
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts;
Into a thousand parts divide on man,
And make imaginary puissance;
Think when we talk of horses, that you see them
Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth;
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings,
Carry them here and there; jumping o'er times,
Turning the accomplishment of many years
Into an hour-glass: for the which supply,
Admit me Chorus to this history;
Who prologue-like your humble patience pray,
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play.

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ALLARME To England, foreshewing what perilles are procured, where the people liue without regarde of Martiall lawe.

1578
To my very louing friend Captaine Barnabe Ryche.

(snip)

...But our countrey hath alwayes had that faute (and I am afrayde will neuer be without it) of being vnnaturall and vnthankfull to such as with their great hazard, paynes and charges haue sought to attayne to the knowledge of armes, by which shee is chiefly mainteyned, succoured and defended. To bring one example amongst thousands· What a number was there of noble Gentlemen, and worthy souldiours, that in the dayes of that victorious prince King Henry the fifth (after the honourable behauing of them selues, as well at Agincort, as other places, to the discomfiture and vtter ouerthrowe of the whole Chiualry of Fraunce) returning to their countrey, were pitifully constrained (& which was in deede most miserable) in their olde and honourable age for very want and necessitie to begge, *whyle a great number of vnworthie wretches that lyued at home, enioyed all kindes of felicities*. That Noble Gentleman Syr William Drurie a Paragon of armes at this day, was wont (I remember) to say, that the souldiers of England had alwaies one of these three endes to looke for: To be slayne, To begge, or To be ha~ged. No doubt a gentle recompence for such a merit.
(snip)
Your assured friende, Barnabe Googe.

(snip)

Lodowick Flood in the behalfe of the Authour.

MArch forth with Mars, clap costlets on, ring larum loud apace,
strike on the drum, sound out the trumpe, defie your foes in face.
Shake Morpheus of, set Vatia by, flee Bacchus bankets fro,
shunne Ceres seat, let Venus be, to Mars your seruice shewe.
In India loiterers were looked to, in Egypt youth were taught,
and in Lacena idle men, as men suspect were caught.
With sword & shield, in warlike w[...]eds the Romains Mars obeyed,
eche Martial feate the Grekes to Mars, in mou~t Olympus plaied.
Had Pyrrhus prayse bin pend in bookes, had Alexander fame,
had Phrygia fieldes such fame by blood, had Mars not spred the same?
Scipio got by Hannibal prayse, by Pompey Cesar fame:
by Hector stout, Achilles strong, dyd win his noble name.
What worthie Cyrus gaynd by warres, what noble Ninus wanne,
that Sardanapalus lost by sloth, euen from thassyrians than.
What noble courage doth attempt, what haughtie heartes do winne,
that sluggish mindes do lose againe, as had no conquest binne.
A cowarde vile, a dastard he, that dares not marche in fielde,
whom dread of greesly gu~ne may daunt, to leaue both speare & shield
What greater glory can be got, what greater prayse be wonne,
then Curtius feates or Decius deedes, to do as they haue done?
*Darius wisht Zopyrus like, to haue but twentie men,
and Agamemnon wisht againe, to haue but Nestors tenne*,
Whereby that Troy and Ilion proud, by Nestors wisdome wonne,
and by Zopyrus brought to ground, the pryde of Persia done.
One subtle Sinon with some sleight, like Lasthenes one to be
is better then a thousand such, that bragges and bost and flee.
Then pace this path the tracte is playne, that Riche hath troden out,
and leades thee lightly to the place, where honour should be sought.
Sith Riche of right dyd runne this race, and painted forth with pen,
his trauaill tryed commend you must to Mars and to his men:
And geue of right to Riche his prayse, that rings the larum bell,
enroll his name, record his fame, and say to Riche far well.

*****************************

Enter the KING

WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!

KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
*The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more*.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.


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S. Strong to Barnabe Rich - 1578

He (Rich) giues the sworde and shield in hande, to shroud thee from annoy,
He wisely warnes thee of the worse, lest foes might thee destroy:
He treades thee out a perfect path, oh England loude I crye,
Refuse therefore thy follies past, he sees thee goe awrye:
And leaue of al thy lustfull lyfe, and eke thy great excesse,
Thy dainty fare, thy fine array, and eke thy wantonnesse.
Leaue of likewise thy vsance great, and leaue thy lawing vaine,
Lest for the present guyle thereof, there happe some future paine.
Yet God forbid but iustice should in eche thing beare the sway,
And lawe is good where lawe is vsde, I cannot this denay.
But so your Common lawes are courst, at will of euery pelth,
That common is the woe (God knowes) but priuate is the wealth.
*Do sorte thy selfe from Comedies, and foolish playes of loue,
Lest tragicall and worse perhaps in fine thee chaunce to proue*.
Take sword in hand, and leaue of ease, for nowe the tyme is comme,
The bell is rong, the trumpettes sound, all arme doth strike the dromme.

****************************

Speculum Tuscanismi - 1580 (Wanton Wyll)

Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp,
Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress
No man but minion, stout, lout, plain, swain, quoth a Lording:
No words but valorous, no works but WOMANISH only.
For life Magnificoes, not a beck but glorious in show,
In deed most frivolous, not a look but Tuscanish always.
His cringing side neck, eyes glancing, fisnamy smirking,
With forefinger kiss, and brave embrace to the footward.
Large bellied Cod-pieced doublet, uncod-pieced half hose,
Straight to the dock like a shirt, and close to the britch like a diveling.
A little Apish flat couched fast to the pate like an oyster,
French camarick ruffs, deep with a whiteness starched to the purpose.
Every one A per se A, his terms and braveries in print,
Delicate in speech, quaint in array: conceited in all points,
In Courtly guiles a passing singular odd man,
For Gallants a brave Mirror, a Primrose of Honour,
A Diamond for nonce, a fellow peerless in England.
Not the like discourser for Tongue, and head to be found out,
Not the like resolute man for great and serious affairs,
Not the like Lynx to spy out secrets and privities of States,
Eyed like to Argus, eared like to Midas, nos'd like to Naso,
Wing'd like to Mercury, fittst of a thousand for to be employ'd,
This, nay more than this, doth practice of Italy in one year.
None do I name, but some do I know, that a piece of a twelve month
Hath so perfited outly and inly both body, both soul,
That none for sense and senses half matchable with them.
A vulture's smelling, Ape's tasting, sight of an eagle,
A spider's touching, Hart's hearing, might of a Lion.
Compounds of wisdom, wit, prowess, bounty, behavior,
All gallant virtues, all qualities of body and soul.
O thrice ten hundred thousand times blessed and happy,
Blessed and happy travail, Travailer most blessed and happy.
"Tell me in good sooth, doth it not too evidently appear
that this English poet wanted but a good pattern before his eyes,
as it might be some delicate and choice elegant Poesy
of good Master Sidney's or Master Dyer's
(our very Castor and Pollux for such and many greater matters)
when this trim gear was in the matching?"

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ALLARME To England, foreshewing what perilles are procured, where the people liue without regarde of Martiall lawe. -- B. Rich, 1578


Thomas Churchyard Gentleman, in commendation of this worke.

(snip)

...A man who long gyvs aem, may shoett hym selff att leynth
A heddy hors must corbbed be, by connyng or by streynth
A wyelly wykked world, byds wantton heds bewaer
Whatt needs moer words when peace is craktt, for lufty warrs prepaer
loes not your old renown, O baebs off bryttayn bloed
Dance afftter drom, lett tabber goe, the musyck is nott good
that maeks men loek lyek gyrlls, and mynce on carpaytts gaye
as thoghe mayd marry on mentt to martch, and Iuen shuld bryng in May
*The sownd off trompett suer, wyll change your MAYDENS FACE
to loek lyek men or LYON'S WHELPPS, or TYGERS in the chace
A gallantt stoering HORS(E), thatt maeks a manneg ryghtt
wear fytter than a lady fyen, for myghtty marssys Knightt*
The warrs for marshall mynds, and peace for Venus men
The sword and soldior best agrees, the lawyer for the pen
The warrs calls corraeg vpp, and peace breeds cowards styll
*maeks peple prowd, dystroyes greatt hartts, and pampers WANTTON WYLL*
peace prowlls a bowtt for pence, and warrs the mock wyll spend
that gredy gayn hords vp in hoells, god knoes to lyttell end
the wealth that peace doth bring, maeks many a myscheeff ryeff
and peace rons hedlong in to vyce, and warrs refforms leawd lyeff
for fear off sword or sho[...]t, mans mynd loeks throwe the starrs
the hartt fawlls flatt beffoer hys face, that maeks boeth peace and warrs
the noghtty natuerd wyghtt, by warrs is broghtt in fraem
the baddest putts on better mynd, the wyeldest waxeth taem
peace fills the land wyth pomp, thatt gyvs a pryuey wownd
feeds folly fatt, maeks vertue lean, and floeds off vyce a bownd,
Daem lust her pleasuer taeks, in peace and banketts sweett
and warrs doth quenche owr hott desyers, and dawntts the dallyng spreete
in warrs we honor wyn, on peace reproetch doth groe
and warrs contentts owr noblest frynds, and peace doth pleas owr foe
peace putts vp sondry wrongs, and warrs doth ryght mentayn
and suer a battayll is well lost, thatt doth a kyngdom gayn
To feyght in forrayn soyll, apawlls the enmyes pryed
and better fare abroed to martch, than heer the brontt to byed
nott many hold with peace, thoghe warrs is cald a shreawe
nor many aer by peace maed rytch, for wealth butt fawlls to feawe

(snip)
Thoghe stowttnes striue youe se, the quarrell is the staetts
thatt steps in to thoes bloddy broylls, by feyghtt to end debaetts
admitt thatt myllions dye, and perishe on the playn
in pryncys cawse and conttreys ryghtt, thear must be thowsandes slayn
To hold the enmyes short, and maek our manhoed known
whoes value in our elders dayes, a boutt the world was blowen.
and we wear vyctors cald, and feard of forrayn foe
whear now transformd to wemens wylls, liek carpett knightes we goe
O Eangland loek thoue back, whatt noble elders did
shall strangers braggs & boests gyue fear, to boldnes god forbyd
Thyen honour so wear staynd. Than pluck vpp corraeg nowe
*and waesh away thatt spyetffull spott, that blotts thy noble browe*
To gyue thy soldyors lyeff, this boek is nuely maed
by oen who c[...]n for conttreys cause, wel vse boeth pen and blaed
Accept hys wylling work, gyue other corraeg to
(by fauryng thatt is worthy prayes) the lyek off this to doe
Thys setts forth many greeffs, and sercheth sondry soers
not fraemd [...]o fawn and flatter world, a soldyor that a boers
Loek for the lyek in haest, from me yf layser wyll
and thatt youe pleas to taek in worth, the payns of barrayn quyll.

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*The sownd off trompett suer, wyll change your maydens face
to loek lyek men or lyons whelpps, or tygers in the chace
A gallantt stoering hors, thatt maeks a manneg ryghtt
wear fytter than a lady fyen, for myghtty marssys Knightt*
The warrs for marshall mynds, and peace for Venus men
The sword and soldior best agrees, the lawyer for the pen
The warrs calls corraeg vpp, and peace breeds cowards styll
maeks peple prowd, dystroyes greatt hartts, and pampers WANTTON WILL (Churchyard)

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Henry V

Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare:
but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the
roaring of a lion's whelp.

*****************************
Henry V


The sin upon my head, dread sovereign!
For in the book of Numbers is it writ,
When the man dies, let the inheritance
Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord,
Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;
Look back into your mighty ancestors:
Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb,
From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
And your great-uncle's, Edward the Black Prince,
Who on the French ground play'd a tragedy,
Making defeat on the full power of France,
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill
Stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
Forage in blood of French nobility.
O noble English. that could entertain
With half their forces the full Pride of France
And let another half stand laughing by,
All out of work and cold for action!

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Henry V


Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'

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From The Times
October 14, 2009
The English and French will never agree about Agincourt
Ben Macintyre

"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.” Well, not quite as few as Shakespeare claimed; and not that happy either; and, when it came to the treatment of French prisoners, distinctly unbrotherly.

The forthcoming film Agincourt is the latest addition to a long tradition of myth-making, reinvention and historical controversy that has been going on for six centuries.

From our side of the Channel, Agincourt is seen as an heroic battle won against all the odds; from the French side, the epic encounter tends to be either ignored or regarded as a typical act of British brutality. The British see Agincourt as a victory for the longbow; the French tend to blame the weather.

In the traditional British version, Henry V’s army of 6,000 men, despite a crippling forced march, defeated a heavily armed French army six or seven times its size. In 2005, however, Professor Anne Curry argued that, based on administrative records, the odds were probably rather less heroic: it was only perhaps 9,000 English against 12,000 French. Those figures have, inevitably, been challenged.

Last year, Christophe Gilliot, director of the museum at Azincourt (as the French insist on spelling the place), pointed out claimed that the English had slaughtered large numbers of unarmed prisoners. The French historian was quoted as comparing the English with war criminals.

Mr Gilliot later denied saying any such thing, but his protestations were drowned out by the chorus of outrage from British historians. Henry certainly did order the execution of prisoners, but such behaviour was par for the course in the horror of medieval warfare: neither English nor French contemporary sources criticised Henry for ordering the executions.

Both sides have always seen the battle through the distorting lens of patriotism. Laurence Olivier’s portrayal of Henry V in 1944 boosted to wartime morale. The French version of Wikipedia, however, portrays the defeat as a victory in disguise ... “a major cause of the rise of Joan of Arc and the investment in artillery that became a French speciality”

But of all the arguments adhering to the battle, none is more hotly denied, or more passionately believed than the notion that the V-sign was invented at Agincourt. It is said that because the French customarily chopped the index and middle fingers off captured archers, to prevent them from drawing their bows again, the English bowmen at Agincourt defiantly raised two fingers at the approaching French cavalry — a gesture maintained at some Anglo-French sporting fixtures ever since.

There is no evidence that the French cut off archers’ fingers, in this way, and the offensive sign gesture probably predates Agincourt by at least a century. But like all great myths, this one is impregnable.

The precise shape of the new film is unknown, but this much is certain: the English will win, bloodily; the French will lose, plaintively; and the great battle over what happened at the Battle of Agincourt will continue, gloriously.

Once more unto the breach . . .

Monday, November 29, 2010

This Deformitie of Fashions

There is nothing whereby a man may more readily iudge of the inward disposition of the minde, then by the outward shew of apparell. Our words, our behauiours, and our outward attires, they are all tongues to proclaime the inward disposition, either of men or women: for there is no doubt but that a phantasticall attire is a plaine confirmation of a PHANTASTIKE MINDE. - Barnabe Rich, Irish Hubbub

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And because this
continuall course and manner of writing or speech sheweth
the matter and disposition of the writers MINDE, more than one
or few words or sentences can shew, therefore there be that
haue called STILE, the image of man (MENTIS CHARACTER)
for man is but his minde, and as his minde is tempered
and qualified, so are his speeches and language at large,
and his inward conceits be the mettall of his MINDE, and his
manner of vtterance the very warp |&| woofe of his conceits,
more plaine, or busie and intricate, or otherwise affected
after the rate. -- Puttenham, Ch. V, 'Of Stile'

***************************


But if I had as many mouthes, as Argus had eyes, I should yet want words to expresse the foolerie of new fashions, the onely cloke whereby to patronize the franticke humors of this madding age, is the multitude of madde men that doth vse them, which now by custome are growne so familiar, being practised by the multitude, that if they were acted but by a few in number, I thinke that if they themselues did but stand by to behold them, they would account them to bee worse then madde, that did so much affect them: but yet in this DEFORMITIE of FASHIONS, it is commonly seene, that wise-men doe sometimes follow fooles.

(SNIP)

I saw foure young Roaring Boyes, that (I thinke) were new come from some Ordinarie, the one with a coloured feather in his hat; the other I marked well, had a long lowsie locke hung dangling by his eare, like a Derry Irish Glybei: the third was in a yellow starcht band, that made him to looke as if he had bin troubled with the yellow iaundis: the fourth had a short sword, like that which we were wont to call an Ale-house Dagger, and that was trussed close to his side with a scarfe; they were all foure in white bootes, and gilt spurres, and they were consulting as they went along, how they might spend the afternoone: The one gaue his verdict to go see a Play: - Barnabe Rich, Irish Hubbub


***********************************

Second Watchman

Call up the right master constable. We have here
recovered the most dangerous piece of lechery that
ever was known in the commonwealth.

First Watchman

And one Deformed is one of them: I know him; a'
wears a lock.

*****************************


Fantastic \Fan*tas"tic\, a. [F. fantastique, fr. Gr. ???????????
able to represent, fr. ????????? to make visible. See
Fancy.]
1. Existing only in imagination; fanciful; imaginary; not
real; chimerical.

2. Having the nature of a phantom; unreal. --Shak.

3. Indulging the vagaries of imagination; whimsical; full of
absurd fancies; capricious; as, fantastic minds; a
fantastic mistress.

4. Resembling fantasies in irregularity, caprice, or
eccentricity; irregular; oddly shaped; grotesque.

There at the foot of yonder nodding beech, That
wreathes its old fantastic roots so high. --T. Gray.

Syn: Fanciful; imaginative; ideal; visionary; capricious;
chimerical; whimsical; queer. See Fanciful.

Fantastic \Fan*tas"tic\, n.
A person given to fantastic dress, manners, etc.; an
eccentric person; a fop. --Milton.

Our fantastics, who, having a fine watch, take all
ocasions to drow it out to be seen. --Fuller.

****************************
Phantasticall Oxford:
Gabriel Harvey,_Speculum Tuscanismi_

Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp,
Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress.
No man but a minion, stout, lout, plain, swain, quoth a Lording:
No words but valorous, no works but womanish only.
For life Magnificoes, not a beck but glorious in show,
Indeed most frivolous, not a look but Tuscanish always.
His cringing side neck, eyes glancing, fisnamie smirking,
With forefinger kiss, and brave embrace to the footward.
Large-bellied Kodpeased doublet, unkodpeased half hose,
Straight to the dock like a shirt, and close to the britch like a diveling.
A little Apish flat couched fast to the pate like an oyster,
French Camarick ruffs, deep with a whiteness starched to the purpose.
Every one A per se A, his terms and braveries IN PRINT,
Delicate in speech, quaint in array: conceited in all points.
In Courtly guiles a passing singular odd man,
For gallants a brave Mirror, a Primrose of Honour,
A Diamond for nonce, a fellow peerless in England.
Not the like discourser for Tongue, and head to be found out,
Not the like resolute man for great and serious affairs,
Not the like Lynx to spy out secrets and privities of States,
Eyed like to Argus, eared like to Midas, nos'd like to Naso,
Winged like to Mercury, fittest of a thousand for to be employed:
This, nay more than this, doth practise of Italy in one year.
None do I name, yet some do I know, that a piece of a twelve month
Hath so perfited outly and inly, both body, both soul,
That none for sense and senses half matchable with them.
A vulture's smelling, Ape's tasting, sight of an Eagle,
A Spider's touching, Hart's hearing, might of a Lion.
Compounds of wisdom, wit, prowess, bounty, behaviour,
All gallant virtues, all qualities of body and soul:
O thrice ten hundred thousand times blessed and happy,
Blessed and happy travail, TRAVAILER most blessed and happy.

Tell me in good sooth, doth it not too evidently appeare, that this
English Poet wanted but a good PATTERNE before his eyes, as it might
be some delicate, and choyce elegant Poesie of good M. Sidneys, or M.
Dyers (ouer very Castor, & Pollux for such and many greater matters)
when this trimme geere was in hatching: Much like some Gentlewooman, I
coulde name in England, who by all Phisick and Physiognomie too, might
as well have brought forth all goodly faire children, as they have now
some ylfavoured and DEFORMED, had they at the tyme of their
Conception, had in sight, the amiable and gallant beautifull Pictures
of ADONIS, Cupido, Ganymedes, or the like, which no doubt would have
wrought such deepe impression in their fantasies, and imaginations, as
their children, and perhappes their Childrens children to, myght have
thanked them for, as long as they shall have Tongues in their heades

*****************************



The Irish hubbub, or, The English hue and crie




THE IRISH HVBBVB OR, THE ENGLISH HVE AND CRIE. BREIFELY PURSUING the base conditions, and most notorious offences of this vile, vaine, and wicked AGE. No lesse smarting then tickling. A merriment whereby to make the wise to laugh, and fooles to be angry.

By BARNABY RICH Gentleman, and Seruant to the Kings most excellent Maiestie.


Mounted aloft vpon the worlds great stage.
I stand to note the follies of this Age.

Malui me diuitem esse, quàm vocari.


To the discreet Reader.

THese harmelesse lines, that haue none ill intent,
I hope shall passe in mirth as they were meant:
I bring no strained stuffe, that might induce
A cloaked shift, or forge a coin'd excuse.
What I intend, is but to make you sport,
By telling truth, to please the wiser sort:
Truth is the marke that I haue aim'd at heere;
And I haue hit the white, and shot so neere,
That no deprauing tongue, nor wrangling sprite
*Can wrest awry, what I haue forg'd so right*.
For gald-backt Iades that stand in doubt and dread
Of being rubb'd, let them forbeare to read.
I wish these lines to their approoued wits,
Where reason rules, and wit with iudgement sits:
Where vertue guides, and wisdome swayes the minde,
Let these read on, and censure as they finde.
And what it is that I haue aim'd at now,
The wise may iudge; for fooles I care not how.
B. R.
(snip)


The lamentable teares of Heraclitus, bemoaning the vanities of his time, were now out of season, who would regard them? I thinke it therefore better to laugh with Democritus; for a litle mirth (they say) is worth a great deale of sorrow. But I thinke there be some will be angry if they be laughed at; and howsoeuer they incline themselues to follow the fooles fashion, yet they will not be mockt. But I will come ouer these fellowes with a prouerbe that many yeeres agoe I brought out of France, and thus followes the text: He that will make himselfe a sheepe, it is no matter though the Wolues doe eat him: and why should it not likewise follow, He that will make himselfe a foole, it is no matter who laughs at him.

I cannot thinke that since the first creation the world euer afforded so many monsters of men, nor so few modest women, as at this present age. And he that writes with an vpright conscience, must not flatter: and hee that doth behold the DEFORMED VANITIES that are euery day hatched vp, and brought to be in fashion, both in the Court, Citie, and Countrey, as well in England as Ireland, cannot chuse but laugh. Now if any one be angry at my plaine speeches, I know he wants either wit or honestie, and then it shall but augment my sport, and make mee to laugh the faster: for I am sure there is no man that is not an enemy to his owne discretion, but will thinke I haue spoken truth; and there is no good man but will approue what is lust: for fooles I care not.

(SNIP)

And now to begin my sport, I cannot chuse but giue the Hubbub, when I meet so many of my young Masters passing thorow the streets, attired so like strumpets, trickt vp in the harlots trimme, for all the world like a Seamsters maide new come out of the Royall Exchange. Mee thinks they should not sweare an oath but by Gods daintie: they are not worthy to carry the name of men, that are so farre in loue with their owne deformities, as I thinke of my conscience, if the soules of the deceased might looke downe from the heauens to behold the things that are done here vpon the earth, there be a number of parents that would be ashamed to see the vanities of their owne children, how farre they are estranged, both in forme, fashion, and condition, from the discipline of vertue, and the precepts which they themselues had bin educated and trained vp in. Our mindes are effeminated, our martiall exercises and disciplines of warre are turned into womanish pleasures and delights: our Gallants thinke it better spend their lands and liuings in a whores lap, then their liues in a martiall field for the honour of their Countrey. Wee haue conuerted the coller of steele to a yellow-starched band, the launce to a tobacco-pipe, the arming-sword and gantlet to a paire of perfumed gloues; wee are fitter for a Coach then for a campe, and our young Gallants are now become so wise in their owne conceits, that they will take vpon them to know all things, that doe not yet know themselues; and that which in former ages would haue beene accounted for a noisome and a malapert kinde of sawcinesse, that they ascribe to proceede from the viuacitie and quicknesse of wit: but he that should behold their courting complements when they bee in company amongst women, could not chuse but laugh and giue the Hubbub.
(SNIP)

I would I had now a chaire with a backe and a soft cushion, that I might sit mee downe to laugh at the whore-master: but especially at him that they call Senex Fornicator, an old Fishmonger, that many yeeres since ingrost the French pox, the which although he sometimes vsed to vent in secret amongst his friends; yet hee will not so disfurnish himselfe, but that he will reserue sufficient for his owne store, and the rather to conceale his commodity in priuate, and would not haue it to be openly knowen, he shelters them vnder strange deuised titles; sometimes he calls them the Gowt, sometimes the Sciatica, and thus disguising them vnder these false applyed names, he shamefully slandreth and belieth the pox.

There be some others yet of a better disposition, Note in marg: He shall not bee accounted a Gentleman, if that he doth not carry this marke of the... that doe detest this fraudulent manner of dealing, that when they haue made some pretty shift to get the pox, they do set them forth to open shew, and finding them to be sociable, familiar and conuersant amongst Knights and Gentlemen, will grace them with a wrought night cap, yet not in any deceitfull manner, whereby to couzen his Maiesties subiects, *but will so lay them open to euerie mans view, that you shall see their true pictures in diuers parts of the face*, but especially at the nose: he doth not so hide them, but you shall discerne them by his complexion, by his snuffling in his speech, his nose is commonly as flat as a bowling alley, by his very gate as hee passeth and repasseth by you. If a Dogge doth chance to hit him ouer the shinns with his taile, he cries Oh, and perhaps, raps out an oath or two.

(SNIP)

It is I that doe set that tongue, which by the right of creation should be the trumpet to sound forth the glorie of God, I doe make it the instrument to prophane and blaspheme his holy name; to sweare by his wounds, and by his bloud, by his heart, by his guts, by his side, by his body, by his soule.

Can any Diuell of hell shew himselfe to be more aduerse? Giue ouer therefore your further claimes, for the inheritance belongeth to me, it is I that am a bondslaue to the Diuell, a fire brand of hell, a wretch that is most accursed, it is I that am all this, and therefore it is I that must inherit.

Thus farre my Historie, and I thinke of my conscience this last of the three brethren had the best right to that his father had bequested, for amongst the sonnes of men, there is not a more accursed, then is the blasphemer.

But now it is accounted a Gentleman-like HUMOuR in him that can sweare ex tempore, for matters of no moment, and they say it is a signe of courage: but to speake the truth, it is a signe that hee is a reprobate wretch, forsaken of God, that doth vse it: and as his life is detestable, so his death will bee damnable.

What swearing and forswearing againe amongst Marchants, amongst Shop-keepers, and amongst all manner of Trades-men, in buying, in selling, in bargaining, in promise-making, and yet what little regard in the keeping of an oath? We sweare by the liuing Lord, by the power of God, the eternitie of God, the maiestie of God, the life, the death of God; then we diuide our God, to rend him in sunder with whole volleyes of oathes, as his heart, his bloud, his flesh, his
sides, his wounds, his hands, his nailes, his feet, his toes, and all the parts of his precious body: a wicked impudent age, that any people vnder the face of heauen should dare to presume thus to sweare and forsweare our selues, regarding not our oathes, hauing store of Gods iust iudgements on such wicked blaspheming wretches daily set before our eyes for examples vnto vs, and wee regard them not, neither amend our sinfull liues.

(SNIP)

I had thought here to haue ended my discourse, and to haue woond vp my merriment with this old perclose, And thus I bid you hartily farewell, the winding vp of euery ordinary letter, but as I was dipping my pen to haue taken vp inke, I heard a muttering of mens voices, as they were passing through the streets, and looking out at a window, I saw foure young Roaring Boyes, that (I thinke) were new come from some Ordinarie, the one with a coloured feather in his hat; the other I marked well, had a long lowsie locke hung dangling by his eare, like a Derry Irish Glybei: the third was in a yellow starcht band, that made him to looke as if he had bin troubled with the yellow iaundis: the fourth had a short sword, like that which we were wont to call an Ale-house Dagger, and that was trussed close to his side with a scarfe; they were all foure in white bootes, and gilt spurres, and they were consulting as they went along, how they might spend the afternoone: The one gaue his verdict to go see a Play: a second aduised rather to goe to Tables or Cards, two against two for a quart or two of sacke: the third thought it better, that they might goe recreate themselues a litle in a bawdy house: but the fourth sware a great oath, that if they would go with him, he would bring them to the best pipe of Tobacco, that euer came out of the West Indies.

This was the man to whom they all assented, the very sound of A pipe of Tobacco, made them all to run, as Swine to the draffe, when they heare the Maide begin to knocke
vpon the end of the Hogs trough. They say the Welchmen came all running out of Heauen, when they heard one without the gate, crying, Gasse bobby, Gasse bobby; but I thinke our Englishmen would run as fast into Hell, if they did but heare a voice crying out, A pipe of Tobacco.

But away these Gentlemen went together, and I began to wonder how a filthy stinking Antidote could so bewitch men to forget themselues.

In former ages, Gentlemen and Knights at their merry meetings were wont to spend the time in honest recreation; sometimes in gaming, or other pleasant sporting; sometimes in manly exercises, and indeuours of actiuitie; sometimes in braue discoursings, in matters of wit and learning; but how there is no musick pleasing, but the pot, and the Tobacco pipe.

O base conditioned time, is wit so farre spent amongst Knights and Gentlemen, that they can imploy it to no better indeuours, but to imitate that abuse, which is so common with euery Ostler, with euery Tapster, with euery Tinker, with euery Costermonger, with euery Horse-boy: and to conclude, that is in such vse and custome with euery rogue and rascall.

Me thinks the very community should make knowne the vanity: for vertue was neuer knowne yet to be imbraced by the multitude.

(SNIP)

Humours and affections haue a great hand ouer vs, and they doe both place and displace Reason at their pleasure, and where Affection doth hold the Seat and Scepter in the Castle of the Minde, they may gesse at many things, as they are led by opinion, but of very few according to truth: for where the heart is possest with any vehement affection, there Reason is exempt from his proper office, and their iudgement may easily be mistaken, and there is no contending against them, amongst whom Opinion is of such force, as Reason is of no force.

***************************

To draw no envy, SHAKSPEARE, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame ;
While I confess thy writings to be such,
As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise ;
For seeliest ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right ;
Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance ;
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
And think to ruin where it seemed to raise.
These are, as some infamous bawd or whore
Should praise a matron ; what could hurt her more ?
But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,
Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.
I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!
The applause ! delight ! the wonder of our stage!
My SHAKSPEARE rise !

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O base conditioned time, is wit so farre spent amongst Knights and Gentlemen, that they can imploy it to no better indeuours, but to imitate that abuse, which is so common with euery Ostler, with euery Tapster, with euery Tinker, with euery Costermonger, with euery Horse-boy: and to conclude, that is in such vse and custome with euery rogue and rascall.

Me thinks the very community should make knowne the vanity: *for vertue was neuer knowne yet to be imbraced by the multitude*. - B Rich

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Jonson, Timber


Indeed, the multitude commend writers as they do fencers or wrestlers,
who if they come in robustiously and put for it with a deal of
violence are received for the braver fellows; when many times their
own rudeness is a cause of their disgrace, and a slight touch of their
adversary gives all that boisterous force the foil. But in these
things the unskilful are naturally deceived, and judging wholly by the
bulk, think rude things greater than polished, and scattered more
numerous than composed; nor think this only to be true in the sordid
multitude, but the neater sort of our gallants; for all are the
multitude, only they differ in clothes, not in judgment or
understanding.

***************************

Jonson, Volpone (intro)

...But let Wise and Noble Persons take heed
how they be too credulous, or give leave to these invading
Interpreters to be over-familiar with their Fames, who cunningly, and
often, utter their own virulent Malice, under other Mens simplest
Meanings. As for those that will (by Faults which Charity hath rak'd
up, or common Honesty conceal'd) make themselves a Name with the
Multitude, or (to draw their rude and beastly Claps) care not whose
living Faces they intrench with their petulant Styles, may they do it
without a Rival, for me: I chuse rather to live GRAV'D in Obscurity,
than share with them in so PREPOSTEROUS a FAME.

***************************

Formal Deformity



They haue found out new mines of new fashions. There is nothing more formall in these dayes then Deformitie it selfe.
(snip)
As for the humorous they haue beene alredie brought to the stage, where they haue plaide their partes, Euerie man in his humour.

B. Riche





Barnabe Rich
FAVLTES FAVLTS, And nothing else but FAVLTES.

AT LONDON Printed for Ieffrey Chorleton, and are to be sold at the great North doore of Paules Church. 1606.

(snip)

A Figge for all that Enuie can inuent,
On fearefull steps true honour neuer treades,
I come not to implore Lucina's helpe,
To bring my Muse a bed with fantasies,
Nor steale Iiestes in cloudes to make you game,
Nor do I seeke by gawdes to purchase fame.



I wade into the world as one vnknowne;
Yong in disguise, and yet in yeares more ripe:
I can discerne an Ape, though clad in silke,
And temper wit sometimes to serue a turne.
To what imprission I haue wrought it now,
The wise may iudge, for fooles I care not how.

(snip)

The world is growne to that passe, that we can laugh at our owne imperfections in another, but we cannot see them in our selues. It should seeme we are better sighted a farre off, then we be nigh at hand: for at home we be as blind as Moales, but abroad we haue as many eyes as Argus. The sum of all is, there is nothing more displeasing vnto vs, then to be told of our owne faults: and nothing better pleasing again, then to heare of other mens: The world is growne to this passe, and he that seeketh not to please the world, shall neuer thriue in the world, and he that studieth to please all, spendeth his time in vaine.

And although I haue not endeuoured my selfe in framing an Idea of Vtopian perfections; yet I haue aduentured to graspe at abuse, but vnder generalities in such sort, as I haue not aymed at any one man particularly, neither to open his shame, nor yet to blazon his infamie.

Note in marg: Please all please none. If any man shall seeke to wrest my generalities to any priuate application, they should doe mee wrong, when I haue not sought so much as to blast any mans good name; I haue shadowed follies, but yet vnder couert tearmes, and I haue ouerpassed many things in silence, because the world is giuen to see too much.

Note in marg: If men will misconster, the fault is theirs. We imitate the Disciples of Theodorus, who complained that his Schollers were accustomed (how plainely soeuer he spoke) yet still to misconster him, and howe expressely soeuer he could write, they would yet wrest his sense and meaning to their owne expositions. There is nothing well said, that is not rightly vnderstood; neither is there anie thing well done, that is wrongfully interpreted.

Note in marg: A gauld Iade. If anie man vpon a guiltie conscience should find himselfe agreeued, the fault is not mine, mee thinkes it were better for him to amend his misse, then to publish his shame.

Note in marg: They haue found out new mines of new fashions. There is nothing more formall in these dayes then Deformitie it selfe. If I should then begin to write, according to the time, I should onely write of new fashions, and of new follies that are now altogether in fashion, whereof there are such aboundant store, that I thinke they haue got the Philosophers stone to multiplie, there is such a dayly multiplicitie both of follies, and fashions.

In diebus illis, Poets and Painters, were priuiledged to faine whatsoeuer themselues listed: but now, both Poet and Painter, if he be not the Tailors Ape, I will not giue him a single halfepenie for his worke: for he that should either write or paint, if it be not fitte in the new fashion, he may go scrape for commendation, nay they will mocke at him, and hisse at his conceit.

Note in marg: Preuention. But amongst an infinite number of faults, I am not yet resolued with which of them I should beginne, nor what text I might first take in hand, and it may be, some will therfore taxe me to haue but little witte: and no force, let them not spare, I will bee afore-hand with some of them, there is a figure with the Logitians, they call it Prolepsis, or Preuention, and I learned it long agoe, of the Boy that taught his mother to call whoore first. And I will now sitte in iudgement of all those that my memorie can readily produce, and I doubt not, but to bee afore hande with some of them.

Note in marg: Iestmonger. As for the humorous they haue beene alredie brought to the stage, where they haue plaide their partes, Euerie man in his humour.

(snip)

But see here a companie now presenting themselues, that I cannot say are affected, but I thinke are rather infected with too much courtesie; you
shall know them by their salutations. For *first with the kisse on the hand*, the bodie shall be bowed downe to the ground: then the armes shall bee cast out, like one that were dauncing the old Antike, not a word but, at your seruice, at your commaund, at your pleasure: this olde protestation, Yours, in the way of honestie, is little cared for: euerie Gull was woont to haue it at his tongues end, but now it is forgotten. And these Flowres of courtesie, as they are full of affectation, so they are no lesse formall in their speeches, full of fustian phrases, many times deliuering such sentences as doe bewray and lay open their maisters ignorance: and they are so frequent with the kisse on the hand, that a word shall not passe their mouthes, till they haue clapt their fingers ouer their lippes. But he that is so full of creeping, and crowching, either hee meanes not well, or his wit will not serue him to meane well, for this common affabilitie, dooth lightly bring with it an ill intent, and but according to the Prouerbe, Much courtesie, much craft.

***************************

Harvey, Speculum Tuscanismi

Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp,
Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress
No man but minion, stout, lout, plain, swain, quoth a Lording:
No words but valorous, no works but womanish only.
For life Magnificoes, not a beck but glorious in show,
In deed most frivolous, not a look but Tuscanish always.
His cringing side neck, eyes glancing, fisnamy smirking,
With FOREFINGER KISS, and brave embrace to the footward.

Othello: Act 2, Scene 1

IAGO [Aside.]
167 He takes her by the palm: ay, well said,
168 whisper: with as little a web as this will I
169 ensnare as great a fly as Cassio. Ay, smile upon
170 her, do; I will gyve thee in thine own courtship.
171 You say true; 'tis so, indeed: if such tricks as
172 these strip you out of your lieutenantry, it had
173 been better you had not KISSED your three FINGERS so
174 oft, which now again you are most apt to play the
175 sir in. Very good; well kissed! an excellent
176 courtesy! 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers
177 to your lips? would they were CLYSTER-pipes for your sake!

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Rich, (con't)

Heere comes a spruce fellow now, and if hee be not alied to the Fantasticke, yet I am sure the foole and he are so neare a kinne, that they can not marrie, without a Licence from the Pope. Would ye knowe who it is? Mary sir, it is a Traveller, not of those sort that endeuor their trauels, but of purpose to growe into the hieway of Experience, for the better seruice of their Prince or Country: but of those whipsters, that hauing spent the greatest part of their patrimony in prodigality, wil giue out the rest of their stocke, to be paid two or three for one, vpon their returne from Rome, from Venice, from Constantinople, or some other appoynted place. These fellowes in their iourneying doe so empty themselues of the little witte they carryed out, that they can make no better return than their mindes full fraught with farre fetcht follies, and their heades ouer burthened with too many outlandish vanities; if at his returne he hath but some few foolish Phrases in the French, Spanish, or Italian language, with the Baselos manos, the Ducke, the Mump, and the Shrugge, it is enough; for they take much trauell vpon them, to see fashions, but none at all, to learne vertue: This is a strange kinde of travell, to make profession, to loose their credite at home, to learne follies abroade. What trust can there be in a traueller, who is stil watching for a winde, whose feete are euer fleeting, whose faith plighted on the shoare, is turned to periurie when they hoyse saile?

Note in marg: Trauailers may well speake of wonders. Travellers are priuileged to lie, and at their returne, if they doe hitte into a company that neuer trauelled towards the South Pole, beyond Gads hill, you shall heare them speake of wonders, his talke shall be of Lawes, and Customs, Prouinciall, and Politique. What ciuilitie doth abound in the partes where he hath beene, hee will tell how conuersant he hath beene with great Princes, and how prouident he hath found them in gouerning their estates; & almost at euery pause that he hath drawen his speach to a full period, the next straine shall beginne with this Duke, or that Prince: So that Dukes and Princes are as rife at his tongues end, as, What lacke you sir? or, What would you haue bought? is to a prentise of Cheapeside.

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Arundel and Howard similarly proclaim Oxford's untruthfulness at table , his "ordenarye use to lie for the whetstone in the worst degree' - the whetstone being a traditional prize in a lying contest. "Let these examples plede', writes Arundel:
- that the cobblers wyves of Millaine, are more richlie dressed everie workeinge daye then the Qwene on Christmas daye
- that but for the comminge of Beningefeld (Thomas Bedingfield) and the Duke of Alvaes (Ferdinand de Toledo's ) perswation rather to omitted the service then forsake his cuntrie he had surpriseid Bommle witness my Lord Howard of Effinhham, Lord Henry Francis Southwell Walter Ralegh and my self.
- that yf my Lord (Charles? Henry?) Howard had not in the Quenes name called him a waye by letter, he had bin *governer of Millayne* (MILAN),
Henry Howard Walter Ralegh Francis Southwell Harrye Burroughe Robinson.
- that he was in the waye to genoa with 3000 horsees a 10000 foteman to take it for the Kinge of Spayne by Don Iones (John's) direction when the Cardinall Moron toke upp the matter
- that he was proffered ten thousand powndes a yere by the Pope and more by Kinge Phillipp at NAPALES.
- That the cownetess of Mirondola came fiftie miles to lie with him for loves
- That the Qwene of Navare sent a messenger to desire him to speke with him in her chamber
- That St Markes churche is paveid at Venice with diamowntes and rubies
- That a merchant in Geane (Genoa) hathe a Mantell of a chimney of more price then all the treasure of the Towre
- That he *red the reathorick lecter publikelie* in sermies (? sermons) preached at Strosbreke (Strasbourg)
Here is a potpourri: denigrations of the Queen and her wealth; boasts of military prowess thwarted by the Queen; TRAVELLERS' tales; sexual braggadocio; and boasts of intellectual prowess. (_Monstrous Adversary_ Alan H. Nelson)

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Barnabe Rich, (con't)...

We haue in these dayes varietie of Scutchins, sundrie sorts of Armes, multiplicitie of dignities and honourable titles, but true Nobilitie is it that springeth from Vertue.

Salust writing to Cicero, vpbraided him to be discended from a base kinde of people, but himselfe was extracted from a noble progenie: to whome Cicero made answer, that Salust indeede was discended of noble rase, but he was the first that had debased the Nobilitie of his house. And for himselfe he was discended (indeed) from a people of obscure condition, but yet he was the first Gentleman of his stocke.

There is nothing to counterpeise the ballance of a noble name, but how many little worthy persons haue there beene in times past, that woulde faine haue gone currant for six shillings eight pence; yet if they had beene brought to the ballance, they would haue weighed too light by a great deale more than the common allowance of two graines, but if they had bin tried by the touch, we might well haue said, All is not golde that glisters.

(Note in marg: That greatnes to be commended that consisteth in goodnesse). The title of Nobilitie to a good man is of great excellencie; but to an ill man, of no lesse infamie.

It is likely that good should come of good, and vertue is most succeeding in noble blood, and the worthinesse of honourable ancestors craueth a reuerend regard to be had in their posteritie.


Honourable Nobilitie is fittest to counsaile kings, and to take vpon them the great affairs of the state· Our Noble men are inflamed with the desire of glorie and renowne, and the inferiour sort doe thinke themselues most happie and blessed, when they are gouerned by the wisedome and vertue of Noble personages, that commonly manage their authoritie with magnificence, for as it is witnessed in the Prouerbs, Note in marg: Prou. 29. Where righteous men are in authoritie, the people reioyce: but where the wicked beare rule, the people sigh.

Note in marg: Nobilitie fittest to counsel kings. Honourable Nobilitie is then most fit to counsell a king, and the care and studie of good Counsailors is still to endeuour those things that shall concerne the honour of God, the preseruation of the Kings royall person, and the furtheraunce of the good and benefite of the common-wealth: and in the middest of their most weighty affaires, not to leane too much to the pollicies of worldly wicked men, that they impugne the wisedome and pollicie ordayned and decreed by the Almightie himselfe.

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Squared out his plays by the rule of his own wit - self-love

Friday, September 10, 2010

Irregular Shakespeare




Shakespeare in France

It was only in the early 18th c. that Shakespeare became known across the Channel, mainly through the writings of Prévost and, in particular, Voltaire's Lettres philosophiques. Voltaire's praise of the English playwright was quite bold, and he drew inspiration from him for his own dramatic innovations (more spectacular stage action, local colour, etc.). However, his attitude was from the beginning divided (as was that of many English contemporaries), and in later years his hostility was expressed more openly. For all his genius, Shakespeare's IRREGULAR plays seemed monstrous by French standards— pearls in a dunghill. Diderot described him grandly as a ‘colosse gothique’.
http://www.answers.com/topic/shakespeare-in-france


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Regular \Reg"u*lar\ (-l?r), a. [L. regularis, fr. regula a rule, fr. regere to GUIDE, to RULE: cf. F. r['e]gulier. See Rule.]

1. Conformed to a rule; agreeable to an established rule,
law, principle, or type, or to established customary
forms; normal; symmetrical; as, a regular verse in poetry;
a regular piece of music; a regular verb; regular practice
of law or medicine; a regular building.
2. Governed by rule or rules; steady or uniform in course,
practice, or occurence; not subject to unexplained or
irrational variation; returning at stated intervals;
steadily pursued; orderly; methodical; as, the regular
succession of day and night; regular habits.
3. Constituted, selected, or conducted in conformity with
established usages, rules, or discipline; duly authorized;
permanently organized; as, a regular meeting; a regular
physican; a regular nomination; regular troops.
4. Belonging to a monastic order or community; as, regular
clergy, in distinction dfrom the secular clergy.
5. Thorough; complete; unmitigated; as, a regular humbug.
[Colloq.]


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...Never did so much strength, or such a spell
Of Art, and eloquence of papers dwell.
For whil'st he in colours, full and true,
Mens natures, fancies, and their humours drew
In method, order, matter, sence and grace,
Fitting each person to his time and place;
Knowing to move, to slacke, or to make haste,
Binding the middle with the first and last:
He fram'd all minds, and did all passions stirre,
And with a BRIDLE GUIDE the Theater.

Shackerley Marmion, Josonus Virbius


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Liking Men:
Ben Jonson's Closet Opened
Lorna Hutson
University of St. Andrews
In the prologue to the revised text of Every Man In, Jonson distinguishes the play that he presents as the "first fruits" of his dramatic career from the offerings of the more popular Shakespearean tradition, in which playwrights disregarded neoclassical poetics, happily ignoring the principle of unity of time. He declares that he has not "so loved the stage" as to follow the example of his contemporaries, who
. . . make a child, now swaddled to proceed
Man, and then shoot up in one beard and weed,
Past threescore years; or, with three rusty swords,
And help of some few foot and half-foot words,
Fight over York and Lancaster's long jars,
And in the tiring-house bring wounds to scars.4
The often-heard complaint of earlier humanist authors against the chronicle drama's violations of temporal probability is here given a peculiarly Jonsonian inflection in the reference to "three rusty swords" and the quick-changes of "wounds to scars" backstage. Jonson, unlike Shakespeare, persistently draws attention to the "inert materiality" and "creaking contrivances" of theater. Here, of course, the demystification of these contrivances works to invalidate any techniques of illusion except for those of linguistic currency and contemporaneity. Jonson's play, unlike those chronicle histories of Shakespeare, will seem real because it offers images of "deeds, and language, such as men do use" in contemporary life, enlivened by examples of the unmanly commission of "POPULAR ERRORS":
I mean such ERRORS as you'll all confess
By laughing at them, they deserve no less:
Which, when you heartily do, there's hope left then
You that have so grac'd monsters may like men.
("Prologue," 26-30)
The ERRORS to be staged in Jonson's play for the delectation of the audience, then, are aspects of those plays they have elsewhere applauded or "grac'd." These will be on display as "monsters," foils against which what is likeable about "men" will appear. The category not just of men, but of "likeable men," is thus elided with the persuasive power of a verisimilar, unified dramatic action: "You that have so grac'd monsters"-that have clapped at ILL-FORMED PLAYS- may now direct a more discriminating and appreciative gaze at the "natural," "manly" form of this play.


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Horace Of the Art of Poetry - transl. Ben Jonson


...Most writers, noble sire and either son,
Are, with the likeness of the truth, undone.
Myself for shortness labour, and I grow
Obscure. This, striving to run smooth,
and flow,
Hath neither soul nor sinews. Lofty he
Professing greatness, swells; that, low by lee,
Creeps on the ground; too safe, afraid of storm.
This seeking, in a various kind, to form
One thing PRODIGIOUSLY, paints in the woods
A dolphin, and a boar amid the floods.
So shunning faults to greater fault doth lead,
When in a WRONG AND ARTLESS WAY WE TREAD.


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Footnotes to Horace _Art of Poetry_

A Monstrous Figure:



"The word PRODIGIALITER apparently refers to that fictitious monster, under which the poet allusively shadows out the idea of absurd and inconsistent composition. The application, however, differs in this, that, whereas the monster, there painted, was intended to expose the
extravagance of putting together incongruous parts, without any reference to a whole, this prodigy is designed to characterize a whole, but deformed by the ill-judged position of its parts. The former is like a monster, whose several members as of right belonging to different animals, could by no disposition be made to constitute one consistent animal. The other, like a landscape which hath no objects absolutely irrelative, or irreducible to a whole, but which a wrong position of the parts only renders prodigious. Send the boar to the woods, and the dolphin to the waves; and the painter might show them both on the same canvas.
Each is a violation of the law of unity, and a real monster: the one, because it contains an assemblage of natural incoherent parts; the other, because its parts, though in themselves coherent, are misplaced and disjointed."


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(Harvey prints his poem Speculum Tuscanismi disclaiming it as 'a bolde Satyricall Libell lately devised at the Instauce of an old friend.' It mocks Sidney's ENEMY the Earl of Oxford (See Katherine Duncan-Jones, Sir Philip Sidney: Courtier Poet, London, 1991, pp.166-7)


'Tell me in good sooth, doth it not too evidently appeare, that this English Poet wanted but a good PATTERNE before his eyes, as it might be some delicate, and choyce elegant Poesie of good M. Sidneys, or M. Dyers (ouer very Castor, & Pollux for such and many greater matters)
when this trimme geere was in hatching: Much like some Gentlewooman, I coulde name in England, who by all Phisick and Physiognomie too, might as well have brought forth all goodly faire children, as they have now some YLFAVOURED and DEFORMED, had they at the tyme of their Conception, had in sight, the amiable and gallant beautifull Pictures of ADONIS, Cupido, Ganymedes, or the like, which no doubt would have wrought such deepe impression in their fantasies, and imaginations, as their children, and perhappes their Childrens children to, myght have thanked them for, as long as they shall have Tongues in their heades."


Sidney: The
Critical Heritage
By Martin Garrett (pp.92-93)


**************************************

An Essay on Criticism
(Snip)
Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave DISORDER PART,
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
(snip)
But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
SEIZES YOUR FAME, and puts his laws in force. -- Alexander Pope


**************************************
In Memory of Mr. William Cartwright.
(snip)
But Thou art gone: and groveling Trifles crawl
About the World, which but confirm thy Fall.
The Belgick Floud, which drank down fifty Townes,
At dead-low water shews their humble Crowns:
So, since thy flowing Brain ebb'd down to death,
Small Under-witts do shoot up from beneath.
They spread and swarm, as fast as Preachers now,
New, Monthly Poets (and their Pictures too)
Who, like that Fellow in the Moon, look bright,
Yet are but Spots because they dwell in Light.
For thy Imperiall Muse at once defines
Lawes to arraign and brand their weak strong lines,
Unmask's the Goblin-Verse that fright's a page
As when old time brought Devills on the Stage.
Knew the right mark of things, saw how to choose,
(For the great Wit's great work, is to Refuse,)
And smil'd to see what shouldering there is
To follow Lucan where he TROD AMISS.
Thine's the right Mettall, Thine's still big with Sense,
And stands as square as a good Conscience.
No Traverse lines, all written like a man:
Their Heights are but the Chaff, their Depths the Bran:
Gross, and not Great; which when it best does hit
Is not the strength but Corpulence of Wit:
Stuft, swoln, ungirt: but Thine's compact and bound
Close as the Atomes of a Diamond.
Substance and Frame; Raptures not Phrensies grown;
No Rebel-Wit, which bears its Master down;
But checks the Phansy, tames that Giant's Rage
As he that made huge Afcapart his Page.
Such Law, such Conduct, such Oeconomy,
No Demonstrator walks more steadily.
Nothing of Chance, Thou handled'st Fortune then
As roughly as she now does Vertuous men.
(snip)
Yet not meer Forme and Posture, built of Slime;
'Tis Substantive with or without its Rime.
(snip)
Nor were these drunken Fumes, Thou didst not write
Warm'd by male Claret or by female White:
Their Giant Sack could nothing heighten Thee,
As far 'bove Tavern Flash as Ribauldry.
Thou thought'st no rank foul line was strongly writ,
That's but the Scum or Sediment of Wit;
Which sharking Braines do into Publike thrust,
(And though They cannot blush, the Reader must;)
Who when they see't abhor'd, for fear, not shame,
*TRANSLATE their BASTARD to some Other's NAME.*
No rotten Phansies in thy Scenes appear;
Nothing but what a Dying man might hear.
(snip)
John Berkenhead


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Bastard \Bas"tard\, a.
1. Begotten and born out of lawful matrimony; illegitimate.
See Bastard, n., note.
2. Lacking in genuineness; spurious; false; adulterate; --
applied to things which resemble those which are genuine,
but are really not so.
That BASTARD SELF-LOVE which is so vicious in
itself, and productive of so many vices. --Barrow.
3. Of an UNUSUAL MAKE or PROPORTION; as, a bastard musket; a
bastard culverin. [Obs.]
4. (Print.) Abbreviated, as the half title in a page
preceding the full title page of a book.


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Alciato's Book of Emblems
Emblem 69
Self-love
Because your figure pleased you too much, Narcissus, it was changed
into a flower, a plant of known senselessness. Self-love is the
withering and destruction of natural power which brings and has
brought ruin to many learned men, who having thrown away the method of
the ancients seek new doctrines and pass on nothing but their own
fantasies.



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http://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/french/emblem.php?id=FALc069
Because your beauty gave you too much satisfaction, Narcissus, it was
turned both into a flower and into a plant of acknowledged
insensibility. Self-satisfaction is the rot and destruction of the
mind. Learned men in plenty it has ruined, and ruins still, men who
cast off the method of teachers of old and aim to pass on new
doctrines, nothing more than their own imaginings.


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And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,

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‘Male deformities’: Narcissus and the Reformation of Courtly Manners
in Cynthia’s Revels
in Ovid & the Renaissance Body
By Goran V Stanivukovic
Mario Digangi \
(snip)


...In this essay I want to pursue such an analysis by focusing on Ben Jonson’s early comedy Cynthia’s Revels (1600), which offers particular insight into the social and political implications of the Narcissus myth for early modern English culture. Originally entered in the Stationer’s Register as Narcissus, or the fountain of self-love, this quirky satire of courtly manners represents Jonson’s ‘only extended use of Ovidian material.: Jonson’s uncharacteristic recourse to Ovidian subjects in Cynthia’s Revels suggests his recognition of the Narcissus myth’s theatrical viability as a vehicle for satire. While Narcissus never appears as a character in the play, the Narcissus myth provides Jonson with vivid material for exposing the transgressive bodily practices of unauthorized courtiers, especially through the character of Amorphous (“the deformed”), whose affected manners violate orthodox prescriptions for male aristocratic comportment. The play’s ridicule of courtly affectation thus accords with early modern interpretations of the Narcissus myth that primarily associate self-love not with homoerotic desire but with effeminate manners: a clear sign of social, economic and political transgression. By contrast, the virtuously ‘masculine’ comportment of the true gentleman, according to a particular strain of early modern political ideology, justifies his status and exercise of power. Exposing illegitimate courtiers as effeminate narcissists, Cynthia’s Revels reveals the importance of an ideology of ‘civilized’ masculinity to early-seventeenth-century constructions of political legitimacy.


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Jonson, _Discoveries_
AFFECTED language:
De vere argutis.--I do hear them say often some men are not witty, because they are not everywhere witty; than which nothing is more foolish. If an eye or a nose be an excellent part in the face, therefore be all eye or nose! I think the eyebrow, the forehead, the cheek, chin, lip, or any part else are as necessary and natural in the place. But now nothing is good that is natural; right and natural language seems to have least of the wit in it; that which is writhed and tortured is counted the more exquisite. Cloth of bodkin or tissue must be embroidered; as if no face were fair that were not powdered or painted! no beauty to be had but in wresting and writhing our own tongue! Nothing is fashionable till it be DEFORMED; and this is to write like a gentleman. All must be AFFECTED and preposterous as our GALLANTS' clothes, sweet-bags, and night-dressings, in which you would think our men lay in, like ladies, it is so CURIOUS.


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He that is with him is Amorphus
a Traveller, one so made out of the mixture and shreds
of forms, that himself is truly deform'd. He walks
most commonly with a Clove or Pick-tooth in his
Mouth, he is the very mint of Complement, all his Be-
haviours are printed, his Face is another Volume of
Essayes; and his Beard an Aristrachus. (Jonson, Cynthia's Revels,
III,ii)
Amorphus. That's good, but how Pythagorical?
Phi. I, Amorphus. Why Pythagorical Breeches?
Amo. O most kindly of all, 'tis a conceit of that fortune,
I am bold to hug my Brain for.
Pha. How is't, exquisite Amorphus?
Amo. O, I am rapt with it, 'tis so fit, so proper,
so happy. --
Phi. Nay do not rack us thus?
Amo. <>. Give me
your Ears. Breeches Pythagorical, by reason of their trans-
migration into several shapes.
Mor. Most rare, in sweet troth.


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"Nos demiramur, sed non cum deside vulgo,
Sed velut Harpyas, Gorgonas, et Furias."
"We marvel too, not as the vulgar we,
But as we Gorgons, Harpies, or Furies see."

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Epigraph Sejanus -- Jonson

Non hic Centauros, non Gorgonas, Harpyiasque
Invenies: Hominem pagina nostra sapit. Mart.
(No Centaurs here, or Gorgons, look to find:
My subject is of man and humane kind.)

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Upon Ben: Johnson, the most excellent of Comick Poets.


Mirror of Poets! Mirror of our Age!
Which her whole Face beholding on thy stage,
Pleas'd and displeas'd with her owne faults endures,
A remedy, like Those whom Musicke cures,
Thou not alone those various inclinations,
Which Nature gives to Ages, Sexes, Nations,
Hast traced with thy All-resembling Pen,
But all that custome hath impos'd on Men,
Or ill-got Habits, which DISTORT them so,
That scarce the Brother can the Brother know,
Is represented to the wondring Eyes,
Of all that see or read thy Comedies.
Whoever in those Glasses lookes may finde,
The spots return'd, or graces of his minde;
And by the helpe of so divine an Art,
At leisure view, and dresse his nobler part.
*NARCISSUS conzen'd by that flattering Well,
Which nothing could but of his beauty tell,
Had here discovering the deform'd estate
Of his fond minde, preserv'd himselfe with hate*,
But Vertue too, as well as Vice is clad,
In flesh and blood so well, that Plato had
Beheld what his high Fancie once embrac'd,
Vertue with colour, speech and motion grac'd.
The sundry Postures of Thy copious Muse,
Who would expresse a thousand tongues must use,
Whose Fates no lesse peculiar then thy Art,
For as thou couldst all characters impart,
So none can render thine, who still escapes,
Like Proteus in variety of shapes,
Who was nor this nor that, but all we finde,
And all we can imagine in mankind.
E. Waller


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Distort \Dis*tort"\, v. t. [imp. & p. p. Distorted; p. pr. &
vb. n. Distorting.]
1. To twist of natural or regular shape; to twist aside
physically; as, to distort the limbs, or the body.
Whose face was distorted with pain. --Thackeray.
2. To force or put out of the true posture or direction; to
twist aside mentally or morally.
Wrath and malice, envy and revenge, do darken and
distort the understandings of men. --Tillotson.
3. To wrest from the true meaning; to pervert; as, to distort
passages of Scripture, or their meaning.
Syn: To twist; wrest; deform; pervert.


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Cartwright, William, Jonsonus Virbius

...Blest life of Authors, unto whom we owe
Those that we have, and those that we want too:
Th'art all so good, that reading makes thee worse,
And to have writ so well's thine onely curse.
Secure then of thy merit, thou didst hate
That servile base dependance upon fate:
Successe thou ne'r thoughtst vertue, nor that fit,
Which chance, and th'ages fashion did make hit;
*Excluding those from life in after-time*,
Who into Po'try first brought luck and rime:
Who thought the peoples breath good ayre: sty'ld name
What was but noise; and getting Briefes for fame
Gathered the many's suffrages, and thence
Made commendation a benevolence:
THY thoughts were their owne Lawrell, and did win
That best applause of being crown'd within..


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An Essay on Criticism
(Snip)
Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave DISORDER PART,
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
(snip)
But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
SEIZES YOUR FAME, and puts his LAWS in force.
-- Alexander Pope

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To The Memory Of My (Self)Beloved
Master William Shakspeare,

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Horace, of the Art of Poetrie
transl. Ben Jonson

If to Quintilius, you recited ought:
Hee'd say, Mend this, good friend, and this; "Tis naught.
If you denied, you had no better straine,
And twice, or thrice had 'ssayd it, still in vaine:
Hee'd bid, blot all: and to the anvile bring
Those ill-torn'd Verses, to new hammering.
Then: If your fault you rather had defend
Then change. *No word, or worke, more would he spend
In vaine, BUT YOU, AND YOURS, YOU SHOULD LOVE STILL
Alone, without a rivall, by his will*.

A wise, and honest man will cry out shame
On ARTELESS Verse; the hard ones he will blame;
Blot out the careless, with his turned pen;
Cut off superfluous ornaments; and when
They're darke, bid cleare this: all that's doubtfull wrote
Reprove; and, what is to be changed, not:
Become an Aristarchus. And, not say,
Why should I grieve my friend, this TRIFLING WAY?
These trifles into serious mischiefs lead
The man once mock'd, and SUFFERED WRONG TO TREAD.

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But these WAYS
Were not the PATHS I meant unto thy praise;
For seeliest ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, BUT ECHOES RIGHT;

****************************

P R O L O G U E. Cynthia's Revels, Jonson

IF gracious silence, sweet attention,
Quick sight, and quicker apprehension,
(The lights of Judgments throne) shine any where;
Our doubtful Author hopes this is their Sphere.
And therefore opens he himself to those;
To other weaker Beams his labours close:
As loth to prostitute their Virgin strain,
To ev'ry vulgar and adult'rate Brain,
In this alone, his Muse her sweetness hath,
She shuns the print of any BEATEN PATH;
And proves new *WAYS* to come to learned Ears:
Pied ignorance she neither loves nor, fears.
Nor hunts she after popular Applause,
Or fomy praise, that drops from common Jaws:
The Garland that she wears, their bands must twine,
Who can both censure, understand, define
What merit is: Then cast those piercing Rays,
Round as a Crown, instead of honour'd Bays,
About his Poesie; which (he knows) affords
Words, above action: matter, above words.

Shakespeare as a Figure of Disorder





An Essay on Criticism

(Snip)

Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave DISORDER PART,
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
(snip)
But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
SEIZES YOUR FAME, and puts his LAWS in force. -- Alexander Pope

****************************************




figures of order

The following figures name the means by which sounds, letters, words,
or ideas can be artfully ordered and arranged for effect, and as such
fall under the the third of the four categories of change,
transposition.

The idea of achieving the the most effective order for an entire
speech is emphasized in the second canon of rhetoric, arrangement, and
particularly when considering the partitio (division or outline) of a
speech. Some of the figures below pertain to ordering an entire
discourse, including certain figures of division and digression.
Similarly, some figures, though not pertaining necessarily to parts of
an oration, concern the artful ordering of concepts. Most of the
following figures are for arranging rhetorical effects through
manipulating word order. Some concern the rearrangement of letters
within words. Finally, some of the figures of order are considered to
be vices.

* Figures ordering parts of a speech, or ordering concepts
* Figures altering the order of words
* Figures altering the order of letters within words
* Figures of Disorder (Vices)

(snip)

Figures of Disorder (Vices)

* cacosyntheton
The incorrect or unpleasant ordering of words
* synchysis
The confused arrangement of words in a sentence. Hyperbaton or
anastrophe taken to an obscuring extreme, either accidentally or
purposefully.
* hysterologia
Interrupting the order of a preposition and its object with an
inserted phrase

***************************************

Disorder \Dis*or"der\, n. [Pref. dis- + order: cf. F.
d['e]sordre.]
1. Want of order or regular disposition; lack of arrangement;
confusion; disarray; as, the troops were thrown into
disorder; the papers are in disorder.

2. Neglect of order or system; irregularity.

From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, And
snatch a grace beyond the reach of art. --Pope.

3. Breach of public order; disturbance of the peace of
society; tumult. --Shak.

4. Disturbance of the functions of the animal economy of the
soul; sickness; derangement. ``Disorder in the body.''
--Locke.

Syn: Irregularity; disarrangement; confusion; tumult; bustle;
disturbance; disease; illness; indisposition; sickness;
ailment; malady; distemper. See Disease.

****************************************
Figuring Disorder:



This Figure, that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the Graver had a strife
with Nature, to out-doo the life :

**************************************

SONS OF EUTAXIA - ‘arrangement’, ‘order’, ‘regularity’ (eutaxy)

ataxy - disorder
ataktos; to be (i.e. act) irregular:--behave self disorderly.

****************************************

Cynthia's Revels -- Jonson

Act V. Scene IX.

The Second Masque.

Mercury, as a Page.

Sister of Phœbus, to whose bright Orb we owe, that
we not complain of his absence; These four Brethren
(for they are Brethren, and SONS OF EUTAXIA, a Lady
known, and highly belov'd of your resplendent Deity)
not able to be absent, when Cynthia held a Solemnity,
officiously insinuate themselves into thy presence: For,
as there are four Cardinal Vertues, upon which the
whole Frame of the Court doth move, so are these

[column break]

the four Cardinal properties, without which, the body
of Complement moveth not. With these four Silver
Javelins (which they bear in their Hands) they sup-
port in Princes Courts the state of the Presence, as by
office they are obliged; which, though here they may
seem superfluous, yet for honours sake, they thus pre-
sume to visit thee, having also been employ'd in the
Palace of Queen Perfection. And though to them that
would make themselves gracious to a Goddess, Sacrifices
were fitter than Presents, or Impresses, yet they both
hope thy Favour, and (in place of either) use several Sym-
bols, containing the Titles of thy Imperial Dignity.
First, the hithermost, in the changeable blue and
green Robe, is the commendably-fashion'd Gallant,
Eucosmos; whose Courtly Habit is the grace of the Pre-
sence, and delight of the surveying Eye: whom La-
dies understand by the names of NEAT and ELEGANT. His
Symbol is Divæ Virgini, in which he would express thy
Deities principal Glory, which hath ever been Vir-
ginity.
(SNIP)

Cynthia:

Once more, we cast the slumber of our thanks
On your ta'n toil, which here let take an end.
And that we not mistake your several worths,
Nor you our favour, from your selves remove
What makes you not your selves, those Clouds of Mask:
[They unmask.
"Particular Pains, particular Thanks do ask.
How! let me view you. Ha! are we contemn'd?
Is there so little awe of our Disdain,
That any (under trust of their Disguise)
Should mix themselves with others of the Court,
And (without Forehead) boldly press so far,
As farther none? How apt is Lenity
To be abus'd? Severity to be loath'd?
And yet, how much more doth the seeming Face
Of Neighbour-Vertues, and their borrowed Names,
Add of lewd Boldness to loose Vanities?
Who would have thought that Philautia durst
Or have usurped Noble Storges Name,
Or with that Theft have ventur'd on our Eyes?
Who would have thought, that all of them should hope
So much of our Continence, as to come
To grace themselves with Titles not their own?
In stead of Med'cins, have we Maladies?
And such Imposthumes as Phantaste is,
Grow in our Palace? We must lance these Sores,
Or all will putrifie. Nor are these all,
For we suspect a farther Fraud than this:
Take off our Vail, that Shadows may depart,
And Shapes appear: Beloved Arete! —— So,
Another Face of Things presents it self,
Than did of late. What! feather'd Cupid mask'd,
And mask'd like Anteros? And stay! more strange!
Dear Mercury, our Brother, like a Page,
To countenance the Ambush of the Boy?
Nor endeth our Discovery as yet:
Gelaia, like a Nymph, that but e're-while
(In male Attire) did serve Anaides?
Cupid came hither to find Sport and Game,
Who heretofore hath been to conversant
Among our Train, but never felt Revenge;
And Mercury bare Cupid company.
Cupid, we must confess, this time of Mirth
(Proclaim'd by us) gave opportunity
To thy Attempts, although no Privilege;
Tempt us no farther; we cannot endure
Thy Presence longer; vanish hence, away.
You, Mercury, we must entreat to stay,
And hear what we determine of the rest;
For in this Plot we well perceive your Hand.
But (for we mean not a Censorian Task,
And yet to lance these Ulcers grown so ripe)
Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two
We give the Charge; impose what Pains you please:
Th' incurable cut off, the rest reform,
Remembring ever what we first decreed,
Since Revels were proclaim'd, let now none bleed.
Are. How well Diana can distinguish Times,
And sort her Censures, keeping to her self
The Doom of Gods, leaving the rest to us?
Come, cite them, Crites, first, and then proceed.
Cri. First, Philautia, (for she was the first)
Then light Gelaia, in Aglaias Name;
Thirdly, Phantaste, and Moria next,
Main Follies all, and of the Female Crew:
AMORPHUS, or EUCOSMOS COUNTERFEIT,
Voluptuous Hedon, ta'ne for Eupathes,
Brazen Anaides, and Asotus last,
With his two Pages, Morus and Prosaites;
And thou, the Traveller's Evil, Cos, approach,
Impostors all, and Male DEFORMITIES ——
Are. Nay, forward, for I delegate my Power,
And will that at thy Mercy they do stand,
Whom they so oft, so plainly scorn'd before.
"'Tis VERTUE which they want, and wanting it,
"Honour no Garment to their Backs can fit.
Then, Crites, practise thy Discretion.

********************************

Then, Crites, practise thy DISCRETION. -- Jonson

********************************

Puttenham, Shakespeare, and the abuse of rhetoric
Studies in English Literature, 1500 - 1900; Houston; Winter 1996;
Hillman, David
abstract:
Hillman examines the way in which criss-crossing shaped the uses of the word "discretion" in early modern England. George Puttenham's "The Art of English Poesie" and some of William Shakespeare's plays are examined for their use of the word "discretion."
(snip)
...The term came into prominence in a wide range of texts and acquired a new range of meanings during the early modern period. According to the OED, the word had, prior to 1590, denoted personal "judgement," "discernment," or "prudence," as well as juridical "power of disposal" (in addition to being an honorific title, in such phrases as "your high and wise discretion").(6) But early modern discourse saw a burgeoning of overlapping meanings in a variety of cultural spheres. These included personal attributes (tact, propriety of behavior, or secrecy--in explicit contrast to madness, impertinence, and rashness); a social classification (the separation of those who possess these attributes--the "discreet"--from those who do not, and of those who have reached the "age of discretion" from those who have not); the legal power to enforce this stratification (the authority or "discretion of the law"); and the ostensibly purely aesthetic separations of literary decorum (the discrezione or "discernment" of Italian neoclassical literary theory; the Indo-European base of the word--* (s)ker, TO CUT--is in fact the same as that of "CRITIC").
*************************************

Jonson, Cynthia's Revels

Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two
We give the Charge; impose what Pains you please:
TH' INCURABLE CUT OFF, the rest REFORM,
Remembring ever what we first decreed,
Since Revels were proclaim'd, let now none bleed.
Arete. How well Diana can distinguish Times,
And sort her Censures, keeping to her self
The Doom of Gods, leaving the rest to us?
Come, cite them, Crites, first, and then proceed.
Crites. First, Philautia, (for she was the first)
Then light Gelaia, in Aglaias Name;
Thirdly, Phantaste, and Moria next,
Main Follies all, and of the Female Crew:
Amorphus, or Eucosmos Counterfeit,
Voluptuous Hedon, ta'ne for Eupathes,
Brazen Anaides, and Asotus last,
With his two Pages, Morus and Prosaites;
And thou, the Traveller's Evil, Cos, approach,
Impostors all, and Male DEFORMITIES ----
Are. Nay, forward, for I delegate my Power,
And will that at thy Mercy they do stand,
Whom they so oft, so plainly scorn'd before.
"'Tis Vertue which they want, and wanting it,
"HONOUR NO GARMENT TO THEIR BACKS CAN FIT.
Then, Crites, practise thy DISCRETION.

(crites - criticus in quarto)


**************************************

Jonson practices his 'discretion':

To the Reader.
This Figure, that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare CUT,
Wherein the Graver had a strife
with Nature, to out-doo the life :

****************************


An Essay on Criticism
by Alexander Pope

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.


'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
Their generation's so equivocal;
To tell them would a hundred tongues required,
Or one vain Wit's, that might a hundred tire.

But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a Critic's noble name,
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
How far your Genius, Taste, and Learning go,
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where Sense and Dulness meet.

Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
As on the land while here the ocean gains,
In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
Thus in the soul while Memory prevails,
The solid power of Understanding fails;
Where beams of warm Imagination play,
The Memory's soft figures melt away.
One Science only will one genius fit;
So vast is Art, so narrow human wit:
Now only bounded to peculiar arts,
But oft in those confin'd to single parts.
Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,
By vain ambition still to make them more:
Each might his sev'ral province well command,
Would all but stoop to what they understand.

First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same;
Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
One clear, unchanged, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of Art.
Art from that fund each just supply provides,
Works without show, and without pomp presides.
In some fair body thus th'informing soul
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole;
Each motion guides, and every nerve sustains,
Itself unseen, but in th' effects remains.
Some, to whom Heav'n in wit has been profuse,
Want as much more to turn it to its use;
For Wit and Judgment often are at strife
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
'Tis more to guide than spur the Muse's steed,
Restrain his fury than provoke his speed:
The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows most true mettel when you check his course.

Those rules of old, discover'd, not devised,
Are Nature still, but Nature methodized;
Nature, like Liberty, is but restrain'd
By the same laws which first herself ordain'd.

Hear how learn'd Greece her useful rules indites
When to repress and when indulge our flights:
High on Parnassus' top her sons she show'd,
And pointed out those arduous paths they trod;
Held from afar, aloft, th'immortal prize,
And urged the rest by equal steps to rise.
Just precepts thus from great examples giv'n,
She drew from them what they derived from Heav'n.
The gen'rous Critic fann'd the poet's fire,
And taught the world with reason to admire.
Then Criticism the Muse's handmaid prov'd,
To dress her charms, and make her more belov'd:
But following Wits from that intention stray'd:
Who could not win the mistress woo'd the maid;
Against the Poets their own arms they turn'd,
Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd.
So modern 'pothecaries taught the art
By doctors' bills to play the doctor's part,
Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,
Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.
Some on the leaves of ancient authors prey;
Nor time nor moths e'er spoil'd so much as they;
Some drily plain, without invention's aid,
Write dull receipts how poems may be made;
These leave the sense their learning to display,
And those explain the meaning quite away.

You then whose judgment the right course would steer,
Know well each ancient's proper character;
His fable, subject, scope in every page;
Religion, country, genius of his age:
Without all these at once before your eyes,
Cavil you may, but never criticise.
Be Homer's works your study and delight,
Read them by day, and meditate by night;
Thence form your judgment, thence your maxims bring,
And trace the Muses upward to their spring.
Still with itself compared, his text peruse;
And let your comment be the Mantuan Muse.

When first young Maro in his boundless mind
A work t'outlast immortal Rome design'd,
Perhaps he seem'd above the critic's law,
And but from Nature's fountains scorn'd to draw;
But when t'examine ev'ry part he came,
Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.
Convinced, amazed, he checks the bold design,
And rules as strict his labour'd work confine
As if the Stagyrite o'erlook'd each line.
Learn hence for ancient rules a just esteem;
To copy Nature is to copy them.

Some beauties yet no precepts can declare,
For there's a happiness as well as care.
Music resembles poetry; in each
Are nameless graces which no methods teach,
And which a master-hand alone can reach.
If, where the rules not far enough extend,
(Since rules were made but to promote their end)
Some lucky license answer to the full
Th'intent proposed, that license is a rule.
Thus Pegasus, a nearer way to take,
May boldly deviate from the common track.
Great Wits sometimes may gloriously offend,
And rise to faults true Critics dare not mend;
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part,
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of Art,
Which, without passing thro' the judgment, gains
The heart, and all its end at once attains.
In prospects thus some objects please our eyes,
Which out of Nature's common order rise,
The shapeless rock, or hanging precipice.
But tho' the ancients thus their rules invade,
(As Kings dispense with laws themselves have made)
Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
Seizes your fame, and puts his laws in force.

I know there are to whose presumptuous thoughts
Those freer beauties, ev'n in them, seem faults.
Some figures monstrous and misshaped appear,
Consider'd singly, or beheld too near,
Which, but proportion'd to their light or place,
Due distance reconciles to form and grace.
A prudent chief not always must display
His powers in equal ranks and fair array,
But with th'occasion and the place comply,
Conceal his force, nay, seem sometimes to fly.
Those oft are stratagems which errors seem,
Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.

Still green with bays each ancient altar stands
Above the reach of sacrilegious hands,
Secure from flames, from Envy's fiercer rage,
Destructive war, and all-involving Age.
See from each clime the learn'd their incense bring!
Hear in all tongues consenting Paeans ring!
In praise so just let ev'ry voice be join'd,
And fill the gen'ral chorus of mankind.
Hail, Bards triumphant! born in happier days,
Immortal heirs of universal praise!
Whose honours with increase of ages grow,
As streams roll down, enlarging as they flow;
Nations unborn your mighty names shall sound,
And worlds applaud that must not yet be found!
O may some spark of your celestial fire
The last, the meanest of your sons inspire,
(That on weak wings, from far, pursues your flights,
Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes)
To teach vain Wits a science little known,
T'admire superior sense, and doubt their own.

***************************************

Moderns, beware! or if you must offend
Against the precept, ne'er transgress its end;
Let it be seldom, and compell'd by need;
And have at least their precedent to plead;
The Critic else proceeds without remorse,
SEIZES YOUR FAME, and puts his laws in force. -- Alexander Pope

**************************************

Seize \Seize\, v. t. [imp. & p. p. Seized; p. pr. & vb. n.
Seizing.] [OE. seisen, saisen, OF. seisir, saisir, F.
saisir, of Teutonic origin, and akin to E. set. The meaning
is properly, to set, put, place, hence, to put in possession
of. See Set, v. t.]
1. To fall or rush upon suddenly and lay hold of; to gripe or
grasp suddenly; to reach and grasp.

**************************************

..No rotten talke brokes for a laugh; no page
Commenc'd man by th'instructions of thy stage;
No bargaining line there; no provoc'tive verse;
Nothing but what Lucretia might rehearse;
No need to make good count'nance ill, and use
The plea of strict life for a looser Muse:
No Woman rul'd thy quill: we can descry
No verse borne under any Cynthia's eye:
Thy Starre was Judgement onely, and right sense,
Thy selfe being to thy selfe an influence.
Stout beauty is thy grace: Sterne pleasures do
Present delights, but mingle horrours too:
thy Muse doth thus like Joves fierce girle appeare,
With a faire hand, but GRASPING of a SPEARE...

William Cartwright, Jonsonus Virbius

***************************************

'Seizing' Shakespeare's Fame:


From _To the Deceased Author of these Poems_ [William Cartwright]

Jasper Mayne

…And as thy Wit was like a Spring, so all
The soft streams of it we may Chrystall call:
No cloud of Fancie, no mysterious stroke,
No Verse like those which antient Sybils spoke;
No Oracle of Language, to amaze
The Reader with a dark, or Midnight Phrase,
Stands in thy Writings, which are all pure Day,
A cleer, bright Sunchine, and the mist away.
That which Thou wrot’st was sense, and that sense good,
Things not first written, and then understood:
Or if sometimes thy Fancy soar’d so high
As to seem lost to the unlearned Eye,
‘Twas but like generous Falcons, when high flown,
Which mount to make the Quarrey more their own.

For thou to Nature had’st joyn’d Art, and skill.
In Thee BEN JOHNSON still HELD Shakespeare’s QUILL:
A Quill, RUL'D by sharp Judgement, and such Laws,
As a well studied Mind, and Reason draws.
Thy Lamp was cherish’d with suppolied of Oyle,
Fetch’d from the Romane and the Graecian soyle. (snip)

**************************************

Horace Of the Art of Poetry - transl. Ben Jonson

...Most writers, noble sire and either son,
Are, with the likeness of the truth, undone.
Myself for shortness labour, and I grow
Obscure. This, striving to run smooth,
and flow,
Hath neither soul nor sinews. Lofty he
Professing greatness, SWELLS; that, low by lee,
Creeps on the ground; too safe, afraid of storm.
This seeking, in a various kind, to form
One thing PRODIGIOUSLY, paints in the woods
A dolphin, and a boar amid the floods.
So shunning faults to greater fault doth lead,
When in a WRONG AND ARTLESS WAY WE TREAD.

***************************************
To my (self)beloved Master:

Horace, of the Art of Poetrie
transl. Ben Jonson

If to Quintilius, you recited ought:
Hee'd say, Mend this, good friend, and this; "Tis naught.
If you denied, you had no better straine,
And twice, or thrice had 'ssayd it, still in vaine:
Hee'd bid, blot all: and to the anvile bring
Those ill-torn'd Verses, to new hammering.
Then: If your fault you rather had defend
Then change. *No word, or worke, more would he spend
In vaine, but you, and yours, you should love still
Alone, without a rivall, by his will*.

A wise, and honest man will cry out shame
On ARTELESS Verse; the hard ones he will BLAME;
Blot out the careless, with his turned pen;
Cut off superfluous ornaments; and when
They're darke, bid cleare this: all that's doubtfull wrote
Reprove; and, what is to be changed, not:
Become an Aristarchus. And, not say,
Why should I grieve my friend, this TRIFLING WAY?
These trifles into serious mischiefs lead
The man once mock'd, and SUFFERED WRONG TO TREAD.

***************************************