Tuesday, December 21, 2021

Deep Impression Took

 Star-y – pointing Pyramid:


On Shakespeare. 1630

WHat needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones,

The labour of an age in piled Stones,

Or that his hallow’d reliques should be hid

Under a STAR-Y-pointing Pyramid?

Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,

What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name?


Melville, Billy Budd

Starry Vere:

Ashore in the garb of a civilian, scarce anyone would have taken him for

a sailor, more especially that he never garnished unprofessional talk

with nautical terms, and grave in his bearing, evinced little

appreciation of mere humor. It was not out of keeping with these traits

that on a passage when nothing demanded his paramount action, he was the

most undemonstrative of men. Any landsman observing this gentleman, not

conspicuous by his stature and wearing no pronounced insignia, emerging

from his cabin to the open deck, and noting the silent deference of the

officers retiring to leeward, might have taken him for the King's guest,

a civilian aboard the King's-ship, some highly honorable discreet envoy

on his way to an important post. But in fact this unobtrusiveness of

demeanour may have proceeded from a certain unaffected modesty of

manhood sometimes accompanying a resolute nature, a modesty evinced at

all times not calling for pronounced action, and which shown in any rank

of life suggests a virtue aristocratic in kind. As with some others

engaged in various departments of the world's more heroic activities,

Captain Vere, though practical enough upon occasion, would at times

betray a certain dreaminess of mood. Standing alone on the weather-side

of the quarter-deck, one hand holding by the rigging, he would absently

gaze off at the blank sea. At the presentation to him then of some minor

matter interrupting the current of his thoughts he would show more or

less irascibility; but instantly he would control it.

In the navy he was popularly known by the appellation--Starry Vere. How

such a designation happened to fall upon one who, whatever his sterling

qualities, was without any brilliant ones was in this wise: A favorite

kinsman, Lord Denton, a free-hearted fellow, had been the first to meet

and congratulate him upon his return to England from his West Indian

cruise; and but the day previous turning over a copy of Andrew Marvell's

poems, had lighted, not for the first time however, upon the lines

entitled Appleton House, the name of one of the seats of their common

ancestor, a hero in the German wars of the seventeenth century, in which

poem occur the lines,

"This 'tis to have been from the first

In a domestic heaven nursed,

Under the discipline severe

Of Fairfax and the starry Vere."

And so, upon embracing his cousin fresh from Rodney's great victory

wherein he had played so gallant a part, brimming over with just family

pride in the sailor of their house, he exuberantly exclaimed, "Give ye

joy, Ed; give ye joy, my starry Vere!" This got currency, and the novel

prefix serving in familiar parlance readily to distinguish the

Indomitable's Captain from another Vere his senior, a distant relative,

an officer of like rank in the navy, it remained permanently attached to

the surname.


Deep Impression Took:

On Shakespeare. 1630

John Milton


Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thyself a live-long monument.

For whilst to th’ shame of slow-endeavouring art,   

Thy easy numbers flow, and that each HEART   

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book

Those Delphic lines with DEEP IMPRESSION TOOK,   

Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving,   

Dost make us marble with too much conceiving;

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,

That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.


Jeff Westover

The Impressments of Billy Budd

Voltaire relates a tour of the Thames he made with an Englishman who bragged that “ he would rather be a modest boatman on the Thames than an archbishop in France.” On the following day the famous writer was surprised to find the man “in heavy chains, bitterly complaining of the abominable government that took him by force from his wife and children to serve on the King’s ship in Norway.” Voltaire records his sympathy for the man, but impishly adds: “ A Frenchman, who was with me, admitted to me that he felt a malicious pleasure in seeing that the English, who reproached us so loudly for our servitude, were just as much slaves as we.” Instead of denying that the French “were slaves, “ the Frenchman’s remark asserts an equivalence of servitude in both England and France. According to this arch parable, English political liberty is a sham, for the impressed man is just as much a slave an any individual subjected to the whims of an absolute monarch.


The fabular quality of the event recounted by Voltaire corresponds to the hybrid of fiction and history embodied in Herman Melville’s Billy Budd. Just as Voltaire’s anonymous Englishman acquires a symbolic importance in his terse narrative, so the figurative significance of impressment permeates Billy Budd. (...) In order to explore the sociopolitical implications of impressment in Billy Budd, I want to exploit the polyvalence of the word impressment by considering its various cognates, including impress, impression, pressure, and press. I attend to the semantic range of these words in order to expolicate the various manifestations of a single principle. By adopting such an approach, I aim to show how impressment functions as the governing trope of Melville’s final work. 

     In Billy Budd, the meaning and effect of impressment as both an abstract principle and historical practice are multiform. There are, however, three primary categories of meaning and activity that define the work of impressment in Melville’s tale; these include the sociohistorical, the psychological, and the textual. In my first category, impressment refers to the conscription of men for military service. The other two categories are fully intelligible only within this context, for impressment is a practice with a specific historical trajectory entailing particular effects. In a more general sense, though, impressment may be described as a _principle of compulsion_. It functions as a constraining force in the service of a ruling power, providing the means whereby a dominant group implements its sovereignty. In this sense, the word figures the process of interpellation, or the production of subjects, and signifies a principle under which all three of my categories may be classed. From this perspective, the object of impressment is the production of obedient and disciplined subjects.

     My second category of analysis refers to the constitution of impressment as impression, which brings into play the cognitive dimensions of the phenomenon. Impressment-as-impression is a process whereby external forces of subjection produce corresponding psychological forces on the part of the subjected individual. (Impressment-as-impression functions, in other words, somewhat like Michel Foucault’s disciplinary correlative to corporal punishment.) (...)

     The last aspect of impressment I wish to explore is the textual. In the same family of words as impressment are the noun and verb forms of press and impress, words whose derivations both share in and differ from the origin of impressment (...) For while the end of impressment was to form compliant subjects, the printing press was used to evoke both allegiance and dissent. I wish to uncover the voice of such dissent in order to show how Billy Budd questions the subjugating force of impressment.


Hamlet, Shakespeare


Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. For anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is to hold, as ’twere, the MIRROR up to NATURE, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his FORM and PRESSURE.



Then thou our FANCY of it self bereaving,

Doth make us MARBLE with too much conceaving;


_Imagination and the Presence of Shakespeare in Paradise Lost_. By Paul Stevens. Madison and London: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985.

Review by Nigel Smith

Imagination and the Presence of Shakespeare in 'Paradise Lost' is probably a mistitled book. Professor Stevens is certainly concerned with theories of imagination and the way in which these theories helped to determine the language of Milton's epic. There is also a consideration of Shakespeare's presence, confined mostly to instances in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and _The Tempest_. The significance of echoes from other plays are discussed, though a central consideration of echoes from the tragedies would have produced a very different work.

As the book stands, we are shown how Milton takes the Shakespearean incarnation of FANCY and modifies it, so that it becomes associated,via COMUS, with evil in Paradise Lost, unless it is governed by Reason, so reflecting the divine. 


John Milton 


The Scene changes to a stately Palace, set out with all manner of deliciousness; soft Musick, Tables spred with all dainties. Comus appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an inchanted Chair, to whom he offers his Glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise.

Comus. Nay Lady sit; if I but wave this wand,

Your nervs are all chain'd up in Alabaster, [ 660 ]

And you a statue; or as Daphne was

Root-bound, that fled Apollo,

La. Fool do not boast,

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my minde

With all thy charms, although this corporal rinde

Thou haste immanacl'd, while Heav'n sees good. [ 665 ]

Co. Why are you vext, Lady? why do you frown?

Here dwell no frowns, nor anger, from these gates

Sorrow flies farr: See here be all the pleasures

That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts,

When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns [ 670 ]

Brisk as the April buds in Primrose-season.

And first behold this cordial Julep here

That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds

With spirits of balm, and fragrant Syrops mixt.

Not that Nepenthes which the wife of Thone, [ 675 ]

In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena

Is of such power to stir up joy as this,

To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.

Why should you be so cruel to your self,

And to those dainty limms which nature lent [ 680 ]

For gentle usage, and soft delicacy?

But you invert the cov'nants of her trust,

And harshly deal like an ill borrower

With that which you receiv'd on other terms,

Scorning the unexempt condition [ 685 ]

By which all mortal frailty must subsist,

Refreshment after toil, ease after pain,

That have been tir'd all day without repast,

And timely rest have wanted, but fair Virgin

This will restore all soon. [ 690 ]


La. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips

In this unhallow'd air, but that this Jugler

Would think to charm my judgement, as mine eyes,

Obtruding false rules pranckt in reasons garb.

I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, [ 760 ]

And vertue has no tongue to check her pride:

Impostor do not charge most innocent nature,

As if she would her children should be riotous

With her abundance, she good cateress

Means her provision onely to the good [ 765 ]

That live according to her sober laws,

And holy dictate of spare Temperance:

If every just man that now pines with want

Had but a moderate and beseeming share

Of that which lewdly-pamper'd Luxury [ 770 ]

Now heaps upon som few with vast excess,

Natures full blessings would be well dispenc't

In unsuperfluous eeven proportion,

And she no whit encomber'd with her store,

And then the giver would be better thank't, [ 775 ]

His praise due paid, for swinish gluttony

Ne're looks to Heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast,

But with besotted base ingratitude

Cramms, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on?

Or have I said anough? To him that dares [ 780 ]

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words

Against the Sun-clad power of Chastity,

Fain would I somthing say, yet to what end?

Thou hast nor Eare nor Soul to apprehend

The sublime notion, and high mystery [ 785 ]

That must be utter'd to unfold the sage

And serious doctrine of Virginity,

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know

More happines then this thy present lot.

Enjoy your deer Wit, and gay Rhetorick [ 790 ]

That hath so well been taught her dazling fence,

Thou art not fit to hear thy self convinc't;

Yet should I try, the uncontrouled worth

Of this pure cause would kindle my rap't spirits

To such a flame of sacred vehemence, [ 795 ]

That dumb things would be mov'd to sympathize,

And the brute Earth would lend her nerves, and shake,

Till all thy magick structures rear'd so high,

Were shatter'd into heaps o're thy false head. 


Delphic Lines:


On Shakespeare. 1630

WHat needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones,

The labour of an age in piled Stones,

Or that his HALLOW'D RELIQUES should be hid

Under a Star-ypointing PYRAMID?

Dear son of memory, great heir of Fame,

What need'st thou such weak witnes of thy name?

Thou in our wonder and astonishment

Hast built thy self a live-long Monument.

For whilst to th' shame of slow-endeavouring art,

Thy easie numbers flow, and that each heart

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalu'd Book,

Those DELPHICK lines with deep impression took,

Then thou our fancy of it self bereaving,

Dost make us MARBLE with too much conceaving;

And so Sepulcher'd in such POMP dost lie,



John Milton's "On the Morning of Christ's Nativity" (1629)

...The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy,

That on the bitter cross

Must redeem our loss;

So both himself and us to glorifie:

Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep, [ 155 ]

The wakefull trump of doom must thunder through the deep,


With such a horrid clang

As on mount Sinai rang

While the red fire, and smouldring clouds out brake:

The aged Earth agast [ 160 ]

With terrour of that blast,

Shall from the surface to the center shake,

When at the worlds last session,

The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.


And then at last our bliss [ 165 ]

Full and perfect is,

But now begins; for from this happy day

Th' old Dragon under ground,

In *straiter limits bound*,

Not half so far casts his usurped sway, [ 170 ]

And wrath to see his Kingdom fail,

Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.


The Oracles are dumm,

No voice or hideous humm

Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. [ 175 ]


Can no more divine,

With hollow shreik the steep of DELPHOS leaving.

No nightly trance, or breathed spell,

Inspire's the PALE-ey'd Priest from the prophetic cell. [ 180 ]



Introduction. John Milton's "On the Morning of Christ's Nativity" is significant for its merit alone, though this remarkable poem is also important in the context of the artist's career. His first major work in English, the nativity ode reflects "his desire to attempt the highest subjects and to take on the role of bardic Poet-Priest" (Barbara Lewalski, Life of John Milton 38). Milton himself declares such ambition in a letter to his friend Charles Diodati: "I sing to the peace-bringing God descended from heaven, and the blessed generations covenanted in the sacred books,… I sing the starry axis and the singing hosts in the sky, *and of the gods suddenly destroyed in their own shrines*." ("Elegia sexta"). Milton's lofty tone suits he elevation of his artistry, as the nativity ode is the "first realization" of Milton's high poetic aspirations (Lewalski 37). 



BY David Abercromby, M. D.

Qui velit ingenio cedere rarus erit.

LONDON, Printed for John Weld at the Crown between the two Tem|ple Gates in Fleetstreet, 1686.

3. I cannot then pretend to give you a true and genuine Notion of Wit, but an imperfect, and rude inchoate description thereof, yet so general and comprehensive, that it contains all such Creatures, as without any violence done to the Word, we may truely call Witty. Yet shall I not say with a great Man of this Age, that Wit is, un je ne scay quoy, I know not what: For this would be to say no|thing at all, and an easie answer to all difficulties, and no solution to any. Neither shall I call it a certain Liveliness, or Vivacity of the Mind inbred, or radicated in its Nature, which the Latines seem to insinuate by the word Ingenium; nor the subtlest operation of the Soul above the reach of meer matter, which perhaps is mean't by the French, who concieve Wit to be a Spiritual thing, or a Spi|rit L'esprit. Nor with others, that 'tis a certain acuteness of Undestanding, some men possess in a higher degree, the Life of discourse, as Salt, with|out which nothing is relished, a Ce|lestial Fire, a Spiritual Light, and what not. Such and the like Expressi|ons contain more of POMP THAN OF TRUTH, and are fitter to make us talkative on this Subject, than to en|lighten our Understandings. 


Salvation History, Poetic Form, and the Logic of Time in Milton's

Nativity Ode

M.J. Doherty

...It helps that Milton's Muse, like the prophet of Isaiah, chapter d of poetic parallelism to the liturgical readings of Epiphany shows up in the themes of the coming of the Incarnate Son as the Light and the singing of the New Song who *casts out idols*. The Lord is everlasting light (Luke iii), the light to the Gentiles (Isa. xlix) that comes at the acceptable time on the day of salvation, the light which, by leading of the star, subordinates all kings and all nations to itself...

...Milton demonstrates the coming of the light by describing the evacuation of darkness, the emptying out of the places of the gods in the earth, from the inmost places of material substance - "And the chill Marble seems to sweat,/ While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat" (195-196) - to the outermost boundary of the "mooned Ashtaroth" (220) From the arches roof of the heavens and the shrine of Apollo at Delphos to the humblest evacuated urn, Christ's light penetrates space, completely expunging darkness. As Milton describes the pagan places of EGYPT, the power of hell is contracted into one spot, Memphis, in Osiris's complete perversion of religion: but in his "sacred chest" Osiris can no longer be at rest because the holy infant reigns. 



After these appear'd

495: A CREW who under Names of old Renown,

496: OSIRIS, ISIS, ORUS and their Train

497: *With monstrous shapes and sorceries abus'd*

498: FANATIC EGYPT and her Priests, to seek

499: Thir wandring Gods disguis'd in brutish forms

500: Rather then human.



In Italian, a word for crew is ciurma, which is akin to ciurmaglia, a mob or rabble, and to ciurmare, to chat, cheat, inveigle (Westover, footnote)


Puttenham, Arte

“And in her Majesty’s time that now is are sprung up another CREW of Courtly makers, Noble men and Gentlemen of her Majesty’s own servants, who have written excellently well as it would appear if their doings could be found out and made public with the rest, of which number is first that noble Gentleman Edward Earle of Oxford, Thomas Lord of Bukhurst, when he was young, Henry Lord Paget, Sir Philip Sidney, Sir Walter Raleigh, Master Edward Dyer, Master Fulke Greville, Gascoigne, Britton, Turberville and a great many other learned Gentlemen, whose names I do not omit for envy, but to avoid tediousness, and who have deserved no little commendation.”  



Milton, John: Comus

118: COMUS enters, with a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in the

119: other: with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of

120: wild

121: beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel

122: glistering.

123: They come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in

124: their hands.



127: COMUS. The star that bids the shepherd fold

128: Now the top of heaven doth hold;

129: And the gilded car of day

130: His glowing axle doth allay

131: In the steep Atlantic stream;

132: And the slope sun his upward beam

133: Shoots against the dusky pole,

134: Pacing toward the other goal

135: Of his chamber in the east.

136: Meanwhile, welcome joy and feast,

137: Midnight shout and revelry,

138: Tipsy dance and jollity.

139: Braid your locks with rosy twine,

140: Dropping odours, dropping wine.

141: Rigour now is gone to bed;

142: And Advice with scrupulous head,

143: Strict Age, and sour Severity,

144: With their grave saws, in slumber lie.

145: We, that are of purer fire,

146: Imitate the starry quire,

147: Who, in their nightly watchful spheres,

148: Lead in swift round the months and years.

149: The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove,

150: Now to the moon in wavering morrice move;

151: And on the tawny sands and shelves

152: Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves.

153: By dimpled brook and fountain-brim,

154: The wood-nymphs, decked with daisies trim,

155: Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:

156: What hath night to do with sleep?

157: Night hath better sweets to prove;

158: Venus now wakes, and wakens Love.

159: Come, let us our rights begin;

160: 'T is only daylight that makes sin,

161: Which these dun shades will ne'er report.

162: Hail, goddess of nocturnal sport,

163: Dark-veiled Cotytto, to whom the secret flame

164: Of midnight torches burns! mysterious dame,

165: That ne'er art called but when the dragon womb

166: Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom,

167: And makes one blot of all the air!

168: Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,

169: Wherein thou ridest with Hecat', and befriend

170: Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end

171: Of all thy dues be done, and none left out,

172: Ere the blabbing eastern scout,

173: The nice Morn on the Indian steep,

174: From her cabined loop-hole peep,

175: And to the tell-tale Sun descry

176: Our concealed solemnity.

178: In a LIGHT FANTASTIC round.


180: The Measure.


182: Break off, break off! I feel the different pace

183: Of some chaste footing near about this ground.

184: Run to your shrouds within these brakes and trees;

185: Our number may affright. Some virgin sure

186: (For so I can distinguish by mine art)

187: Benighted in these woods! Now to my charms,

188: And to my wily trains: I shall ere long

189: Be well stocked with as fair a herd as grazed

190: About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl

191: My dazzling spells into the spongy air,

192: Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion,

193: And give it false presentments, lest the place

194: And my quaint habits breed astonishment,

195: And put the damsel to suspicious flight;

196: Which must not be, for that's against my course.

197: I, under fair pretence of friendly ends,

198: And well-placed words of glozing courtesy,

199: Baited with reasons not unplausible,

200: Wind me into the easy-hearted man,

201: And hug him into snares. When once her eye

202: Hath met the virtue of this magic dust,

203: I shall appear some harmless villager

204: Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear.

205: But here she comes; I fairly step aside,

206: And hearken, if I may her business hear.


208: The LADY enters.


210: LADY. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true,

211: My best guide now. Methought it was the sound

212: Of riot and ill-managed merriment,

213: Such as the jocund flute or gamesome pipe

214: Stirs up among the loose unlettered hinds,

215: When, for their teeming flocks and granges full,

216: In wanton dance they praise the bounteous Pan,

217: And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth

218: To meet the rudeness and swilled insolence

219: Of such late wassailers; yet, oh! where else

220: Shall I inform my unacquainted feet

221: In the blind mazes of this tangled wood?


Ascham, The Scholemaster

**But I know as many, or mo, and some, sometyme my deare frendes, for whose sake I hate going into that countrey the more, who, partyng out of England feruent in the loue of Christes doctrine, and well furnished with the feare of God, returned out of Italie worse transformed, than euer was any in CIRCES Court. I know diuerse, that went out of England, men of innocent life, men of excellent learnyng, who returned out of Italie, not onely with worse maners, but also with lesse learnyng: neither so willing to liue orderly, nor yet so hable to speake learnedlie, as they were at home, before they went abroad. And why? Plato yt wise writer, and worthy traueler him selfe, telleth the cause why. He went into Sicilia, a countrey, no nigher Italy by site of place, than Italie that is now, is like Sicilia that was then, in all corrupt maners and licenciousnes of life. Plato found in Sicilia, euery Citie full of vanitie, full of factions, euen as Italie is now. And as Homere, like a learned Poete, doth feyne, that CIRCES, by pleasant inchantmentes, did turne men into beastes, some into Swine, som

into Asses, some into Foxes, some into Wolues etc. euen so Plato, like a wise Philosopher, doth plainelie declare, that pleasure, by licentious vanitie, that sweete and perilous poyson of all youth, doth ingender in all those, that yeld vp themselues to her, foure notorious properties.

{1. lethen

{2. dysmathian

{3. achrosynen

{4. ybrin.

      The first, forgetfulnes of all good thinges learned before: the second, dulnes to receyue either learnyng or honestie euer after: the third, a mynde embracing lightlie the worse opinion, and baren of discretion to make trewe difference betwixt good and ill, betwixt troth, and vanitie, the fourth, a proude disdainfulnes of other good men, in all honest matters. Homere and Plato, haue both one meanyng, looke both to one end. For, if a man inglutte himself with vanitie, or walter in filthines like a Swyne, all learnyng, all goodnes, is sone forgotten: Than, quicklie shall he becum a dull Asse, to vnderstand either learnyng or honestie: and yet shall he be as sutle as a Foxe, in breedyng of mischief, in bringyng in misorder, with a busie head, a discoursing tong, and a factious harte, in euery priuate affaire, in all matters of state, with this pretie propertie, alwayes glad to commend the worse partie, and euer ready to defend the falser opinion. And why? For, where will is giuen from goodnes to vanitie, the mynde is sone caryed from right iudgement, to any fond opinion, in Religion, in Philosophie, or any other kynde of learning. The fourth fruite of vaine pleasure, by Homer and Platos iudgement, is pride in them selues, contempt of others, the very badge of all those that serue in Circes Court. The trewe meenyng of both Homer and Plato, is plainlie declared in one short sentence of the holy Prophet of God Hieremie, crying out of the vaine & vicious life of the Israelites. This people (sayth he) be fooles and dulhedes to all goodnes, but sotle, cunning and bolde, in any mischiefe. 


But I am affraide, that ouer many of our trauelers into Italie, do not exchewe the way to CIRCES Court: but go, and ryde, and runne, and flie thether, they make great hast to cum to her: they make great sute to serue her: yea, I could point out some with my finger, that neuer had gone out of England, but onelie to serue CIRCES, in Italie. Vanitie and vice, and any licence to ill liuyng in England was counted stale and rude vnto them. And so, beyng Mules and Horses before they went, returned verie Swyne and Asses home agayne: yet euerie where verie Foxes with suttle and busie heades; and where they may, verie wolues, with cruell malicious hartes. A meruelous monster, which, for filthines of liuyng, for dulnes to learning him selfe, for wilinesse in dealing with others, for malice in hurting without cause, should carie at once in one bodie, the belie of a Swyne, the head of an Asse, the brayne of a Foxe, the wombe of a wolfe. If you thinke, we iudge amisse, and write to sore against you, heare, what the Italian sayth of the English man, what the master reporteth of the scholer: who vttereth playnlie, what is taught by him, and what learned by you, saying, Englese Italianato, e vn diabolo incarnato, that is to say, you remaine men in shape and facion, but becum deuils in life and condition. This is not, the opinion of one, for some priuate spite, but the iudgement of all, in a common Prouerbe, which riseth, of that learnyng, and those maners, which you gather in Italie: a good Scholehouse of wholesome doctrine: and worthy Masters of commendable Scholers, where the Master had rather diffame hym selfe for hys teachyng, than not shame his Scholer for his learning. A good nature of the maister, and faire conditions of the scholers. And now chose you, you Italian English men, whether you will be angrie with vs, for calling you monsters, or with the Italianes, for callyng you deuils, or else with your owne selues, that take so much paines, and go so farre, to make your selues both. If some yet do not well vnderstand, what is an English man Italianated, I will plainlie tell him. He, that by liuing, & traueling in Italie, bringeth home into England out of Italie, the Religion, the learning, the policie, the experience, the maners of Italie. That is to say, for Religion, Papistrie or worse: for learnyng, lesse commonly than they caried out with them: for pollicie, a factious hart, a discoursing head, a mynde to medle in all mens matters: for experience, plentie of new mischieues neuer knowne in England before: for maners, varietie of vanities, and chaunge of filthy lyuing. These be the inchantementes of CIRCES, brought out of Italie, to marre mens maners in England: much, by example of ill life, but more by preceptes of fonde bookes, of late translated out of Italian into English, sold in euery shop in London, commended by honest titles the soner to corrupt honest maners: dedicated ouer boldlie to vertuous and honorable personages, the easielier to begile simple and innocent wittes. It is pitie, that those, which haue authoritie and charge, to allow and dissalow bookes to be printed, be no more circumspect herein, than they are. Ten Sermons at Paules Crosse do not so moch good for mouyng men to trewe doctrine, as one of those bookes do harme, with inticing men to ill liuing. Yea, I say farder, those bookes, tend not so moch to corrupt honest liuyng, as they do, to subuert trewe Religion. Mo Papistes be made, by your mery bookes of Italie, than by your earnest bookes of Louain.


Gabriel Harvey's satirical portrait of the Earl of Oxford:

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.

Large bellied Cod-pieced doublet, uncod-pieced half hose,

Straight to the dock like a shirt, and close to the britch like a


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. 


Comus, Milton

Spir. Ile tell ye, 'tis not vain, or fabulous,

(Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance)

What the sage Poëts taught by th' heav'nly Muse, [ 515 ]

Storied of old in high immortal vers

Of dire Chimera's and inchanted Iles,

And rifted Rocks whose entrance leads to hell,

For such there be, but unbelief is blind.

Within the navil of this hideous Wood, [ 520 ]

Immur'd in cypress shades a Sorcerer dwels

Of Bacchus, and of Circe born, great Comus,

Deep skill'd in all his mothers witcheries,

And here to every thirsty wanderer,

By sly enticement gives his banefull cup, [ 525 ]

With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison

The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,

And the inglorious likenes of a beast

Fixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintage

Character'd in the face; this have I learn't [ 530 ]

Tending my flocks hard by i'th hilly crofts,

That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night

He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl

Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey,

Doing abhorred rites to Hecate [ 535 ]

In their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.


Mentis Character - Style is the image of man, for man is but his MIND... (Puttenham)

No, I am that I am, and they that level

At my abuses reckon up their own;

I may be straight, they themselves be bevel.

*By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown*,

Unless this general evil they maintain:

All men are bad, and in their badness reign. 



Fare thee well at once.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near

And gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

Adieu, adieu, adieu! Remember me.  


Melville, Billy Budd

Over him but scarce illuminating him, two battle lanterns swing from two massive beams of the deck above. Fed with the oil supplied by the war contractors (whose gains, honest or otherwise, are in every land an anticipated portion of the harvest of death), with flickering splashes of dirty yellow light they pollute the pale moonshine all but ineffectually struggling in obstructed flecks through the open ports from which the tampioned cannon protrude.



Jeff Westover

The Impressments of Billy Budd

 For many seamen at Spithead and the Nore, the political and linguistic barriers of literacy entailed a disabling relation of paternalism between the regime with which they negotiated and themselves. In Melville’s novella, Vere’s frequently remarked fatherly bearing towards Billy ironically worsens the foretopman’s position. The Captain’s kindness so flusters Billy, whose excessive desire to display his duty momentarily paralyzes him, that he strikes out not only in defense, but in a hapless, failed effort to speak. As Susan Mizruchi points out, “Billy suffers at times from...the inability to speak at all, which parallels his illiteracy, his inability to read the signs of his experience. The language available to him as a lower-ranking seaman differs from the superior articulation of the educated officers, Vere and Claggart.

     The political arbitrations wrought by writing align plebeian illiteracy with regimental paternalism. Paternalism predicates inferiority, and that predication is implemented by an administrative literacy. The same paternalism that Vere shows toward Billy also prevails in a note addressed by one of the mutinous crews at Spithead to the Lords of the Admiralty on August 19, 1795: “the ill-usage we have on board this ship forced us to fly to your Lordships the same as a child to its father. It is almost impossible for us to put it down in [sic] paper as cruel as it really is with flogging and abusing above humanity.” The Spithead Delegates wrote another letter to Admiral Lord Bridport, addressing him as “the father of the Fleet.” For their part, the Nore mutineers similarly evoked the king’s title “Father of your People” in a petition. The tender though sentimentalizing image of a child seeking adult protection both reveals the pathos of the seamen’s plight and the apparently inherent union between administrative paternalism and proletarian illiteracy. Such language asserts the hierarchy that informs the military, but it does so by means of an ideology that posits military relations as familial; it thereby mystifies the real quality of the relations it constitutes. Hence Vere’s paternal regard for Billy masks the fact that he acts from an idiosyncratic interpretation of military requirements.


Writing Britain: James VI & I and the National Body

Samantha Murphy

(...)Charnes’ description of narrative imperialism, especially in relation to its ability to create an absolute identity which structures the identity of others, is similar to Slavoj Žižek’s notion of the ‘nodal point’ or ‘master-signifier’. Since an ideology is “a network of elements whose value wholly depends on their respective differential positions within the symbolic structure” (Tarrying 231), Žižek posits that ideological space is composed of “floating signifiers” whose identity is ultimately anchored through “the intervention of a certain ‘nodal point’ … which ‘quilts’ them, stops their sliding and fixes their meaning” (Sublime 87). By affixing an ideological field, the nodal point effectuates its identity. Thus, it is not only the point through which the subject is attached to the signifier, but also “the point that interpolates individual into subject by addressing it with the call of a certain master-signifier (‘Communism’, ‘God’, ‘Freedom,’ ‘America’)” (Sublime 101). This master-signifier embodies the ideological field and supplies the identity of each component part. As the consolidation and naturalization of power is due, in no small part, to the manipulation of rhetorical signs and symbols, literacy can be defined as the act of learning signifiers in relation to the nodal point. Critical literacies enable us to step back from that point and deconstruct the absolute identity around which meaning is formed. Returning to Žižek, if we “see it [the master-signifier] in the light of day, it changes into an every day object, it dissipates itself, precisely because in itself it is nothing at all” (Sublime 170).[1] 

As my contribution to this discussion of cultural studies and critical literacies, I offer a reading of the nation-building literacies produced during the reign of England’s first Stuart monarch, James I. Beginning a new dynasty with new cultural imperatives, James presided over England during a period of rapid growth and expansion. His vision, expressed through a paternally absolute discourse, sought to redefine England, both to others and herself, as a consolidated Great Britain. Courtier Francis Bacon observed that James’ policies endeavored to “IMPRINT and inculcate into the hearts and heads of the people, that they are one people and one nation” (qtd. in Ivic 135). Fostering a British national consciousness, Christopher Ivic notes, caused “[m]any of James’ subjects . . . [to find] themselves rethinking their place within an emergent multi-national British polity” (135). James, unlike his predecessors, viewed himself as head of a geographically and politically unified state and his rhetorical productions strove to create an indivisible nation-state centered around the conjoined body of king and subjects. This hybrid body situated James as an all-inclusive “louing nourish-father” (“Basilikon Doron” 27) who sustained and unified the subjects of his nation.

Crucially, James exhibited his body to his subjects through writing. Textuality, the book to be studied, is as much a means to power as direct political action. Jeffrey Masten cogently describes James’ position as “a figure situated at the intersection of contemporaneous meanings of author: authority, father, instigator, ruler, writer” (66).[2] James recognized that to narrate is not simply to produce words, it is to produce the parameters of being; thus, he used his published material as a forum to implement his own narrative imperialism. In the process, he raised issues of author/ity[3] and paternity in order to position the kingly body as his ideal of parens patriae.[4] One metaphor frequently used by James in this figuration is the mirror image. Calling his writing the “mirrour . . . / Which sheweth the shaddow of a worthy King,” James commands that it act as a “patterne” for his subjects (“Basilikon Doron” 1). In this, his rhetorical and material strategy is clear. The king’s body, replicated through his words, serves as the template for the bodies of his children-subjects. In the policy this analogy promotes, the king’s reflected image serves as the point of reference for each subject(ed) body.


In consistently returning to the dangers of misinterpretation, James displays an understandable anxiety over the possibility of absolute authorship. In the sixteenth- and seventeenth-centuries, collaboration was the prevalent mode of textual production. The assignment of sole authorship was prescribed by neither law nor custom. Even when individual authorship was claimed, of course, texts did not emerge from a vacuum. As seen by James’ critique of his misreaders, his words do not simply or absolutely assign meaning. Responding to this danger, James took the unusual step of authorizing the collation and publication of his texts in 1616’s The Workes of the Most High and Mighty Prince, James. This was a crucial move in James’ establishment of narrative imperialism. In the words of historian Kevin Sharpe, Workes marks the “moment when the authority of the text resided in the name of the creator” (17).

How was James’ author/ity effectuated? In his preface to Workes, the Bishop of Winton describes the collection as “divers Off-springs . . . proceeded[ing] from one braine.” He continues that, in re-membering the scattered corpus, Workes “give[s] euery childe [its] owne Father; [and] euery Booke [its] trew Author.” In this, Winton echoes James’ rhetoric of benevolent paternal author/ity. The readers are prepared to view James as the generative father, birthing his textual offspring. As children of the true father, they properly reflect his image. Then Winton’s language takes a darker turn: the kingly text has been divorced from the royal body, resulting in the need to “recover those that have bene lost.” The lost offspring, separated from the king, are “abused by false copies” (qtd. in Masten 72). The reproductive metaphor has morphed into malevolence. Workes attempts to contain that malevolence and place rhetorical reproduction firmly into the king’s hands.

What James’ work rhetorically reproduces is a hybrid body encompassing himself and his subjects. Agreeing with Peter Sloterdijk’s contention that “[t]o embody a doctrine means to make oneself into its medium” (102), I argue that James sought to discursively and materially embody the doctrine of paternally generative author/ity. Exhibiting his body through writing, he creates a new literacy—a new common-sense map of meaning that consolidates his vision of absolute monarchy. As part of this process, James’ rhetoric extends out from the page to the material body. Calling his “life” a “law-booke and a mirrour to [his] people,” James insists that subjects “read” in him “the practice of their owne Lawes; [that] therein they may see, by [his] image, what life they should lead” (BD 34). Authorship goes beyond the written word when the body of the king is the “law-booke” for his people. Stressing the conjoined nature of monarch and subject, James acknowledges that any “sinne” committed by the king is not “a single sinne procuring but the fall of one; but . . . an exemplare sinne . . . draw[ing] with it the whole multitude to be guilty of the same” (BD 12-13). As a mirror to his people, a monarch’s sin is never singular; it is reflected back by the “whole multitude” of his subjects.

For James, the power relations inherent in patriarchal absolutism demand a hybridized kingly body; one that is antithetical to democratic principles. Acting as a hybridized network composing the body of the state, the king’s body is not only joined to, but symbiotic with, the body of his nation. All life flows from James, and in him there is all life. In Speach to the Lords and Commons, James states, “For the King that is Parens Patriae, telles you of his wants. Nay, Patria ipsa by him speaks to you. For if the King wants, the state wants, and therefore the strengthening of the King is the preservation and standing of the state; And woe be to him that divides the weale of the King from the weale of the kingdom” (195). Sharing a body, king and country are indivisible. With his hybrid body, James sustains his state with his voice containing all voices and his welfare translating into national welfare. Constructing a hierarchy of paternal author/ity, James displays his body through the written word as a means of creating a new national literacy. In these terms, the maps of meaning created by James place him as the fecund father, the literal embodiment of the law, the mirror for his subjects, and the boundary of the national body.


Jeff Westover

The Impressments of Billy Budd

Text as Impress

     In concluding his novella with two contradictory reports of Billy Budd’s demise, Melville both explicitly addresses the subjective nature of history and demonstrates the complex character of hegemony. As “an inside narrative,” the novella presents itself as a framework from which to assess the information in the different texts, even though the ambiguity that permeates the novellas suggest that its textual authority, like that of its concluding texts, cannot prove ultimately comprehensive. From this perspective, the narrator’s juxtaposition of the official naval account and the populist ballad invites a skeptical response to the authoritative truth of the novella.

     Moreover, to the extent that Melville’s narrative renders “Billy in the Darbies,” both as a scene in its plot and ad the text of the closing ballad, it pre-presents and to some extent repeats the compulsion of impressment. The depictions of Billy in manacles form a composite “imprese,” or emblem, for the novella as a whole. Yet the image of Billy in chains functions as an impress in a more familiar sense, for this iconic posture represents the “characteristic or distinctive mark” of the text, figuring the impressed man par excellence. In this sense, military impressment is repeated in print form.

     That repetition is not a simple matter, however. Although the dominant class of a society asserts its control partly through its recourse to a governing, constitutive ideology, the ascendancy of that class is by no means static and impenetrable. As Raymond Williams insists, “hegemony is not singular; indeed...its own internal structures are highly complex, and have continually to be renewed, recreated and defended; and by the same token,...they can be continually challenged and in certain respects modified.”


Melville, Billy Budd, Ch. 7

With minds less stored than his and less earnest, some officers of his rank, with whom at times he would necessarily consort, found him lacking in the companionable quality, a dry and bookish gentleman, as they deemed. Upon any chance withdrawal from their company one would be apt to say to another, something like this: "Vere is a noble fellow, Starry Vere. Spite the gazettes, Sir Horatio" (meaning him with the Lord title) "is at bottom scarce a better seaman or fighter. But between you and me now, don't you think there is a queer streak of the pedantic running thro' him? Yes, like the King's yarn in a coil of navy-rope?"

Sunday, December 12, 2021

Shakespeare Made Minerva Afraid

 Droeshout Engraving – Figure of Disorder



This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine


The Grotesque: A study in Meanings

Frances Barasch


‘Chimera’ or ‘monster against nature’ was a preferred meaning of ‘grotesque’ during the first half of the seventeenth century. Ben Jonson, Sir William D’Avenant, Roger Boyle, Lord Orrery, and Sir Thomas Browne used ‘grotesque’ for specific hybrid figures, which usually were minor details in the larger grotesque designs of Italian origin. The chimera was only a synecdoche of the entire corpus of art treasures found in the Roman grottoes, but it became an important meaning in the word ‘grotesque’.

In Ben Jonson’s Discoveries, we learn that the work ‘Chimaera’s was being replaced by ‘Grottesque’, among the vulgar at any rate. He interrupts his retelling De Progressu Picturae to notice Vitruvius’ attitude toward Augustan painters and to comment on the contemporary use of ‘Grottesque’:

“See where he [Vitruvius, VII] complaines of their painting Chimaera’s by the vulgar unaptly called Grottesque; Saying, that men who were borne truly to study, and emulate nature, did nothing but make monsters against nature; which Horace [Ars Poetica, l.1-10] so laught at.

Jonson takes the opportunity of the moment to indicate his own preference over ‘Grottesque’ for the term ‘Chimaera’s’ or the phrase “monsters against nature” and to support Vitruvius by invoking Horace’s authoritative ridicule of the famous mermaid, which we have already noticed in connection with Montaigne and Vauquelin.


HOR., Ars Poet. 1.

Suppose a painter wished to couple a horse’s neck with a man’s head,

and to lay feathers of every hue on limbs gathered here and there, so

that a woman, lovely above, foully ended in an ugly fish below; would

you restrain your laughter, my friends, if admitted to a private view?

Believe me…a BOOK will appear uncommonly like that PICTURE, if

impossible figures are wrought into it – *like a sick man’s dreams* –

with the result that neither head nor foot is ascribed to a single

shape, and unity is lost*. 


In his translation of Horace’s _Art of Poetry_ Jonson translates ‘Minerva’ as ‘Nature’


Invita Minerva


Jonson, in the verse prologue to _Every Man in his Humour_, characterizes Shakespeare's plays as 'Monsters' 



Though need make many poets, and some such

As art and nature have not better'd much;

Yet ours for want hath not so loved the stage,

As he dare serve the *ill customs of the AGE*,

Or purchase your delight at such a rate,

As, for it, he himself must justly hate:

To 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 king jars,

And in the tyring-house bring wounds to scars.

He rather prays you will be pleas'd to see

One such to-day, as other plays should be;

Where neither chorus wafts you o'er the seas,

Nor creaking throne comes down the boys to please;

Nor nimble squib is seen to make afeard

The gentlewomen; nor roll'd bullet heard

To say, it thunders; nor tempestuous drum

Rumbles, to tell you when the storm doth come;

But deeds, and language, such as men do use,

And persons, such as comedy would choose,

When she would shew an image of the times,

And sport with human follies, not with crimes.

Except we make them such, by loving still

Our popular errors, when we know they're ill.

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*.


Bartholomew Fair: Jonson


I N D u C T I O N


S T A G E.

It is further covenanted, concluded and agreed, That

how great soever the expectation be, no Person here is

to expect more than he knows, or better Ware than a

Fair will afford: neither to look back to the Sword and

Buckler-age of Smithfield, but content himself with the

present. Instead of a little Davy, to take Toll o' the

Bawds, the Author doth promise a strutting Horse-courser,

with a leer-Drunkard, two or three to attend him, in as

good Equipage as you would wish. And then for Kind-

heart, the Tooth-drawer, a fine Oily Pig-woman with her

Tapster, to bid you welcome, and a Consort of Roarers

for Musick. A wise Justice of Peace meditant, instead

of a Jugler, with an Ape. A civil Cutpurse searchant. A

sweet Singer of new Ballads allurant: and as fresh an

Hypocrite, as ever was broach'd, rampant. If there be ne-

ver a Servant-monster i' the Fair, who can help it, he

says, nor a Nest of Antiques? He is loth to MAKE NA-

TURE AFRAID in his Plays, like those that beget Tales, Tem-

pests, and such like Drolleries, to mix his Head with other

Mens Heels; let the concupiscence of Jigs and Dances,

reign as strong as it will amongst you: yet if the Pup-

pets will please any body, they shall be entreated to

come in.


‘Mix his head with other men’s heels’: Antick/Topsy-Turvy/Carnivalesque/Harlequin




(In the difference of wits, note 10)

Not. 10.--It cannot but come to pass that these men who commonly

seek to do more than enough may sometimes happen on something that

is good and great; but very seldom: and when it comes it doth not

recompense the rest of their ill. For their jests, and their

sentences (which they only and ambitiously seek for) stick out, and

are more eminent, because all is sordid and vile about them; as

lights are more discerned in a thick darkness than a faint shadow.

Now, because they speak all they can (however unfitly), they are

thought to have the greater copy; where the learned use ever

election and a mean, they look back to what they intended at first,

and <>


The true artificer will

not run away from NATURE as he were AFRAID of her, or depart from

life and the likeness of truth, but speak to the capacity of his

hearers. And though his language differ from the vulgar somewhat,

it shall not fly from all humanity, with the Tamerlanes and Tamer-

chains of the late age, which had nothing in them but the scenical

strutting and furious vociferation to warrant them to the ignorant

gapers. He knows it is his only art so to carry it, as none but

artificers perceive it. In the meantime, perhaps, he is called

barren, dull, lean, a poor writer, or by what contumelious word can

come in their cheeks, by these men who, without labour, judgment,

knowledge, or almost sense, are received or preferred before him.

He gratulates them and their fortune. Another age, or juster men,

will acknowledge the virtues of his studies, his wisdom in dividing,

his subtlety in arguing, with what strength he doth inspire his

readers, with what sweetness he strokes them; in inveighing, what

sharpness; in jest, what urbanity he uses; how he doth reign in

men's affections; how invade and break in upon them, and makes their

minds like the thing he writes. Then in his elocution to behold

what word is proper, which hath ornaments, which height, what is

beautifully translated, where figures are fit, which gentle, which

strong, to show the composition manly; and how he hath avoided

faint, obscure, obscene, sordid, humble, improper, or effeminate

phrase; which is not only praised of the most, but commended (which

is worse), especially for that it is naught.


Sending up the Oxfordian Sublime 

Cynthia’s Revels, Ben Jonson

Amorphus [Oxford]. That's good, but how Pythagorical?

Phi. I, Amorphus. Why Pythagorical Breeches?

Amor. 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?

Amor. O, I am rapt with it, 'tis so fit, so proper,

so happy. --

Phi. Nay do not rack us thus?

Amor. I never truly relisht my self before. Give me

your Ears. Breeches Pythagorical, by reason of their trans-

migration into several shapes.

Mor. Most rare, in sweet troth.



Then to the well-trod stage anon,

If Jonson's learned sock be on,

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,

Warble his native wood-notes wild.


Milton’s ‘grottesque’ – cavernous 


The Grotesque: A Study in Meanings

Frances Barasch

Milton’s ‘grottesque’ appears in the fourth book of Paradise Lost (1667) in the description of Satan’s envious view of the hill of Eden crowned by Paradise itself:

SO on he fares, and to the border comes

Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,

Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,

As with a rural mound, the champaign head

Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides

 With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,

Access denied;

The ascent to Eden is “grottesque and wilde”, but Paradise, “A Silvan Scene” with “Shade above shade” of trees is an orderly arrangement of concentric circles crowning the top of the hill. This crown is the “lovely Landskip” Milton described in subsequent lines:

and overhead up grew

Insuperable height of loftiest shade,

Cedar and pine and fir and branching palm,

A sylvan scene; and, as the ranks ascend

Shade above shade, a woody theatre

Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops

The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung;


 And higher than that wall a circling row

Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit,

Milton’s distinction between the lower and upper slopes and the crown of the hill is significant: it is made more than once in the same section:

Now to th’ascent of that steep savage Hill

Satan had journied on, pensive and slow;

But furder way found none, so thick entwin’d,

As one continu’d brake, the undergrowth 

Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext

All path of Man or Beast that passed that way: (ll. 172-7)

The steep ascent is savage, perplexing as well as grotesque, wild, inaccessible. But Satan, neither man nor beast, “overleap’d all bound/Of Hill or Highest wall” and landed “on the Tree of Life,/The middle tree and highest there that grew”. On the crown of Eden’s hill are orderly ranks of tress, arranged “shade above shade”, that is, symetrically, row upon row as in a “theatre” of circus. And in the exact center is the Tree of Life. This Platonic and Dantesque view of Paradise is based on the classical circle. It suggests all that is ideal and heavenly in Milton’s aesthetic. Milton’s “lovely Lantskip” is a harmonious classical landscape, not a pleasingly irregular scene. The ascent to Paradise, on the other hand, is entangled by undergrowth; its savage, hairy sides symbolize the disorder and confusion of this world. It was a place where both man and beast groped confusedly, without clear direction, toward salvation. Among the properties of man’s disordered natural world were fearsome caves and stony grots, traditionally “Deepe, darke, uneasy, dolefull, comfortlesse”, as Spenser described them. These disorders of the natural world are created in part “by grots and caverns shagged with horrid shades” (Comus) and “infamous hills” (Comus) Milton’s ‘grottesque’ belonged to this natural world. It is indeed part of irregular nature, but it is never pleasing. It is plainly the horrific antithesis of a classical, ideal landscape.




The Grotesque: A study in Meanings

Frances K. Barasch

When Sir Thomas Browne used ‘grotesque’ for chimeras and fantastic creatures in 1643 and 1646, he still associated the word with pictorial delineations and painting techniques, but he introduced the word into a new sphere of thought and made it serve for the fantastic and unnatural concepts perpetuated in ancient axioms. As a modern philosopher, Browne reversed these ancient premises: The only indisputable Axiom”, he insisted, is “there are no Grotesques in nature”.


The Comical Scene: Perspective and Civility on the Renaissance

Stage – Peter Womack

.....For Jonson, the main point of the unities is not so much

verisimilitude as proportion. As he writes in Discoveries,

paraphrasing Heinsius:

In every action it behoves the poet to know which is his utmost bound,

how far with fitness, and a necessary proportion, he may produce, and

determine it…For, as a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no

more can the action, either the comedy, or tragedy, without his fit


Boundedness is the condition of all proportion and fitness; nothing

can be good without its proper limits. It is a principle that goes

beyond poetics, informing for example these comedies’ preoccupation

with the idea of humor. Asper, the authorial mouthpiece of Every Man

Out, defines humor as “whatsoe’er hath flexure and humidity, / As

wanting power to contain itself,” and explains that the medical humors

(choler, melancholy, and so on) are so called “By reason that they

flow continually / In some one part, and are not continent” (“Grex,”

ll. 96-101). The follies we are about to see, then, are types of

incontinence, ugly and absurd because of their lack of any limiting

principle. A comedy that wandered whimsically from country to country

would be complicit with the humors it displayed. Rather, it should

emulate the wise men who rule their lives by knowledge, “and can

becalm / All sea of HUMOUR with the marble trident / Of their strong

spirits” (The Poetaster, 4.6.74-76). Although his plays were not

written for a Serlian stage, Jonson reproduces its boundedness at the

level of their construction through his self-imposed limitations of

place and time. The classical architecture of the dramatic form, with

its firm symmetries and commanding point of view, stands in for the

perspective scene.



He that is with him is Amorphus, a traveller, one so made out of a

<<mixture of shreds and forms>>, that himself is truly deformed. He

walks most commonly with a clove or pick-tooth in his mouth, he is the

very mint of compliment, all his behaviours are printed, his face is

another volume of essays, and his beard is an Aristarchus. (Jonson,

Cynthia's Revels) 


LOGODAEDELUS: Word Histories of Ingenuity in Early Modern Europe

Note 55. Ingenuus, an especially rich term, yields a noun (ingenuitas)and an adverb (ingenue) in Perottie. One acts ingenue whose comportment is “as befits a free man, without fear, without anything to do with servility. (ingenue adverbium, hoc est libere, unde ingenue loqui dicimus eum, qui ita loquitur, ut liberum hominem decet, nihil dimidum, nihil servile habens).

indeed free


Image, Imagination, and Cognition: Medieval and Early Modern Theory and Practice

...David Zagoury traces the art theoretical term ‘ingegno’ in the Florentine art world, the birthplace of Renaissance and early modern art, and in particular in the writings of Benedetto Varchi (1503-1565), a philosopher deeply engaged in Florentine cultural debates. A cognate of genius, ingegno was understood as a cognitive ability, and thereby related to imagination. As Zagoury shows in the course of a micro-historical analysis of events that took place over several weeks in 1547 and in which Varchi plays the central role, ingegno, a NATURAL or INBORN ability, was contrasted with ‘fatica’ or physical labour, and the role of each in artistic production carefully weighed and judged. 


Ben Jonson, in his translation of Horace’s Art of Poetry, translates Minerva as ‘Nature’.

Jonson, on Shakespeare

Nature herself was proud of his DESIGNS

And joy'd to wear the DRESSING of his lines,

Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,

As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.

The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes,

Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please,

But antiquated and deserted lie,

As they were not of Nature's family.

Yet must I not give Nature all: thy art,

My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part.

For though the poet's matter nature be,

His art doth give the fashion; and, that he

Who casts to write a living line, must sweat,

(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat

Upon the Muses' anvil; turn the same

(And himself with it) that he thinks to frame,

Or, for the laurel, he may gain a scorn;

For a good poet's made, as well as born;

And such wert thou. Look how the father's face

Lives in his issue, even so the race

Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines

In his well-turned, and true-filed lines;

In each of which he SEEMS to shake a lance,

As brandish'd at the EYES of ignorance.


Minerva in the Forge of Vulcan: Ingegno, Fatica, and Imagination in Early Florentine Art Theory

David Zagoury

It is significant that the two most important authors writing about Michelangelo after the publication of Varchi’s lectures both praised Michelangelo’s imagination. In 1553 Ascanio Condivi (1525-1574), a keen reader of the _Due lezzioni_, underlined Michelangelo’s supremely powerful  ‘virtu imaginativa’. In the second edition of his Vite (1568), Vasari amended his biography of Michelangelo by inserting praise of his ‘immaginativa’ in a passage particularly relevant here, in which he calls the artist ‘questo ingegno’ – a term one is tempted to translate as ‘this genius’:

Michelangelo had such a distinctive and perfect imagination [immaginative] and the works he envisioned were of such a nature that he found it impossible to express such grandiose and awesome conceptions [concetti] with his hands, and he often abandoned his works, or rather ruined many of them, as I myself know, because just before his death he burned a large number of his own drawings, sketches and cartoons to prevent anyone from seeing the labours [fatiche] he endured or the ways he tested his ingegno, for fear he might seem less than perfect. [...] And although [these drawings] display the greatness of this ingego, _they also reveal that when he wanted to bring forth Minerva from the head of Jupiter he needed Vulcan’s hammer_.

[Gabriel Harvey – Oxford’s Jovial Mind]

Vasari’s final remark is, of course, a disguised reference to the exchange between Michelangelo and Varchi quoted above. However, Vasari adds the fact that what comes out of Jupiter’s head is Minerva, a detail Michelangelo had omitted. Since Latin antiquity, Minerva was associated with ingenium and rhetorical talent. The parallel had been applied to the ingenia of poets, as in an encomium of Dante (long attributed to Boccaccio but most probably of sixteenth-century vintage) where on top of praise for his alta fantasia Dante is named ‘the obscure Minerva’:

I am Dante Alighieri, obscure Minerva

Intelligent and artful, in whose ingegno

Maternal elegance unites with the sign

That is considered a great miracle of nature

My high fantasia ready and assured

Went through Tartarus and in the kingdom of heaven

And I made my noble book worthy

Of both temporal and spiritual reading.

The survival into the Renaissance of the association of a deity with an idea or concept – in particular, Minerva with ingegno – comes as no surprise.This allegorical mode underwent considerable expansion in the age of Vasari. Following the mid-Cinquecento surge of interest in emblematics and symbolism, artists increasingly used personifications to derive visual representations of complex notions such as the relationship between different concepts, or something like a theory. We may ask ourselves whether the reception of Varchi’s lectures did not give rise to pictorial attempts of this kind. As far as his 1547 discussion of the realation between ingegno and fatica [labour/toil] is concerned, we ought to consider a small painting on copper by Vasari now in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence. Known as The Forge of Vulcan, it also has been referred to under the title of Ingenium and Ars.

     Vincenzo Borghini (1515-1580) – a Benedictine monk and philologist, and Vasari’s foremost advisor on all matters iconographic – devised the painting’s invenzione. His initial idea survives in a manuscript in Borghini’s hand and addressed to Vasari. Borghini suggested a depiction of Vulcan forging Achilles’s shield following the descriptions of Homer and Virgil, but adapted to our purpose, as we have mused together’, where Thetis, who commissioned the shield, would be replaced by Minerva. Vasari painted Borghini’s ‘blazing furnace’ and ‘three naked young men making various weapons and armors’, with assistants and putti. He also rendered Minerva holding a set square and a pair of compasses, emblems of theory, pointing to her prominent (pregnant?) belly. Vasari departed from the invenzione with regard to the interaction between the two gods While Borghinini wanted Vulcan to be showing the shield to Minerva, Vasari painted Vulcan actively sculpting while looking at a sheet of paper shown to him by the goddess. This drawing is in the hand of the deity associated with the MIND, in keeping with the ideal definition of DISEGNO in Vasari’s Vite (1568) as an ‘expression of the concetto imagined in the mind’. Vasari thus fully exploits the polysemy of the word disegno which, in addition to a drawing, could also signify the product of thought (disegnare meant ‘to think’).

     Vasari’s image mirrors the mutual dependence of conception and execution, while suggesting the interrelationship of the inventore (Borghini) and the arteficer (Vasari himself). Indeed, some authors described the relationship between ars and ingenium as an inseparable unity, and even compared it to the conjunction between mind and body. In the chapter ‘Ars et Ingenium’ of his Hieroglyphica (1556) Pierio Valeriano Bolzano mentions a story of the marriage between Pallas (Minerva) and Vulcan which was appropriated by the ancients ‘as seen in the Orphic hymns’ to explain that Minerva’s and Vulcan’s respective strengths coexist in each being. This, writes Valeriano, is the reason why androgyny, or the coincidence of female and male, was regarded as a sign of higher perfection in antiquity.


Harvey to Oxford:

 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 a

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 1 -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.


Harvey – Four Letters

And that was all the fleeting that I every felt, saving that another company of special good fellows (whereof he was none of the meanest that bravely threatened to conjure up one which should massacre Martin’s Wit, or should be lambacked himself with ten years’ provision) would needs forsooth very courtly persuade the Earl of Oxford, that something in those letters, and namely, the Mirror of Tuscanismo, was palpably intended against him; whose noble Lordship I protest I never meant to dishonour with the least prejudicial word of my tongue or pen, but ever kept a mindful reckoning of many bounden duties toward the same: since in the prime of his gallantest youth he bestowed angels upon me in Christ’s College in Cambridge, and otherwise vouchsafed me many gracious favours, at the affectionate commendation of my cousin M. Thomas Smith, the son of Sir Thomas, shortly after Colonel of the Ardes in Ireland. But the noble Earl, not disposed to trouble his JOVIAL mind with such SATURNINE paltry, still continued, like his magnificent self: and that fleeting also proved, like the other, a silly bullbear, a sorry puff of wind, a thing of nothing.



Nature herself was proud of his DESIGNS

And joy'd to wear the DRESSING of his lines,

Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,

As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.



Timber, Jonson

De mollibus |&| effæminatis.

There is nothing valiant, or solid to bee hop'd for from such, as are

alwayes kempt'd, and perfum'd; and every day smell of the Taylor:

The exceedingly curious, that are wholly in mending such an imperfe-

ction in the face, in taking away the Morphew in the neck; or bleach-

ing their hands at Mid-night, gumming, and bridling their beards, or

making the waste small, binding it with hoopes, while the mind runs at

waste: Too much pickednesse is not manly. Nor from those that will

jeast at their owne outward imperfections, but hide their ulcers

within, their Pride, Lust, Envie, ill nature, with all the art and

authority they can. These persons are in danger; For whilst they thinke to

justifie their ignorance by impudence; and their persons by clothes, and out-

ward ornaments, they use but a Commission to deceive themselves.

Where, *if wee will LOOKE with our understanding, and not our SENSES*,

wee may behold vertue, and beauty, (though cover'd with rags) in

their brightnesse; and vice, and <<deformity>> so much the fowler, in

having all the splendor of riches to guild them, or the false light of

honour and power to helpe them. *Yet this is that, wherewith the world

is TAKEN*, and runs mad to  on: Clothes agazend Titles, the Birdlime

of Fools.




The Court.

Hou art a Bountiful and Brave Spring, and waterest all the Noble Plants of this Island. In thee the whole Kingdom dresseth it self, and is ambitious to use thee as her Glass. Beware then thou render Mens Figures truly, and teach them no less to hate their Deformities, than to love their Forms: For, to Grace, there should come Reverence; and no Man can call that Lovely, which is not also Venerable. It is not Powd'ring, Perfuming, and every day smelling of the Taylor, that converteth to a Beautiful Object: but a Mind shining through any Sute, which needs no False Light, either of Riches or Honours, to help it. Such shalt thou find some here, even in the Reign of C Y N T H I A, (a C R I T E S and an A R E T E.) Now, under thy P H œ B U S, it will be thy Province to make more: Except thou desirest to have thy Source mix with the Spring of Self-love, and so wilt draw upon thee as welcom a Discovery of thy Days, as was then made of her Nights.

Thy Servant, bu


Jonson's dedication to his Epigrammes.






MY LORD. While you cannot change your merit, I dare not change your

title: It was that made it, and not I. Under which name, I here offer

to your LO: the ripest of my studies, my Epigrammes; which though they

carry danger in the sound, doe not therefore seeke your shelter: For,

when I made them, I had nothing in my conscience, to expressing of

which I did need a cypher. But, if I be falne into those times,

wherein, for the likenesse of vice and facts, every one thinks

anothers ill deeds objected to him, and that in their ignorant and

guilty mouthes, the common voyce is (for their securitie) Beware the

Poet, confessing, therein, so much love to their diseases, as they

would rather make a partie for them, then be either rid, or told of

them: I must expect, at you Lo: hand, the protection of truth, and

libertie, while you are constant to your owne goodnesse. In thankes

whereof, I returne you the honor of leading forth so many good and

great names (as my verses mention on the better part) to their

remembrance with posteritie. Amongst whom, if I have praysed,

unfortunately , any one, that doth not deserve; or, if all answere

not, in all numbers, the pictures I have made of them: I hope it will

be forgiven me, that they are no ill pieces, though they be not like

the persons. But I foresee a neerer fate to my book, then this: that

the vices therein will be own'd before the vertues (though, there, I

have avoyded all particulars, as I have done names) and that some will

be readie to discredit me, as they will have the impudence to belye

themselves. For, if I meant them not, it is so. Nor, can I hope

otherwise. For, why should they remit any thing of their riot, their

pride, their self-love, and OTHER INHERENT GRACES, to consider truth

or vertue; but , with the trade of the world, lend their long eares

against men they love not: and hold their deare Mountebanke, or

Jester, in farre better condition, then all the studie, or studiers of

humanitie? For such, I would rather know them by their visards, still,

then they should publish their faces, at their perill, in my Theater,

where CATO, if he liv'd, might enter without scandall.

Your Lo: most faithfull honorer,

Ben. Jonson


Look with our understanding and not our senses - Jonson

Sweet Swan of Avon! what a SIGHT it were

To SEE thee in our water yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames

That so did TAKE Eliza, and our James! 


In the pen of a Puritan, ‘Grotesco’ denoted ‘fantastic’ and suggested supersitious, ignorant, pedantic, and priestly, all attributes of the King’s university men. On the Royalist side, ‘Grottesco’ (a motley creature) was used metaphorically for the Puritan state. (...) Cleveland’s use of Grottesco’ had distinct affiliations with the sphere of art adn farce literature where pibald and motley garments were worn by the clowns and Jack Puddings of the piece. D’Avenant’s and Browne’s uses of ‘groteque’ show that the word was still closely associated with fantastical pictorial phenomena, and while Hall’s metaphor betrays no direct kinship with the arts, he seems to have derived it from Browne and extended it to the popular character of farce and legend, Will o’ the Wisp”, the English Harlequin.


Cynthia’s Revels

 Crites: What ridiculous Circumstance might I devise

now, to bestow this reciprocal brace of Butter-flies one

upon another?

   Amorphus/Oxford. Since I trode on this side the Alpes, I was not

so frozen in my Invention. Let me see: to accost him

with some choice remnant of Spanish, or Italian? that

would indifferently express my languages now: mar-

ry then, if he should fall out to be ignorant, it were

both hard and harsh. How else? step into some ra-

gioni del stato, and so make my induction? that were

above him too; and out of his Element, I fear. Feign

to have seen him in Venice or Padua? or some face neer

his in similitude? 'tis too pointed, and open. No, it

must be a more quaint, and collateral device. As —

stay: to frame some encomiastick Speech upon this our

Metropolis, or the wise Magistrates thereof, in which

politick number, 'tis odds, but his Father fill'd up a

Room? descend into a particular admiration of their

Justice, for the due measuring of Coals, burning of

Cans, and such like? as also Religion, in pulling

down a superstitious Cross, and advancing a Venus, or

Priapus, in place of it? ha? 'twill do well. Or to talk

of some Hospital, whose Walls record his Father a

Benefactor? or of so many Buckets bestow'd on his

Parish-church, in his life time, with his name at length

(for want of Arms) trickt upon them? Any of these?

Or to praise the cleanness of the Street, wherein he

dwelt? or the provident painting of his Posts against he

should have been Prætor? Or (leaving his Parent) come

to some special Ornament about himself, as his Rapier,

or some other of his Accoutrements? I have it: Thanks,

gracious Minerva. 

Thursday, December 9, 2021

Sublime Shakespeare and the Grave's Tyring-House


Howsoever the mistaking worlde takes it (whose Left hand ever recev’d what I gave with my Right). -- George Chapman to Inigo Jones


I.M. of the First Folio Shakespeare and Other Mabbe Problems

Arthur W. Secord

Until the mid- nineteenth century, the I.M whose verses are among those commending the first folio Shakespeare (F1) was assumed to be John Marston...

[Bolton] Corney called attention to two phrases common to Mabbe and I.M., to Mabbe’s reputation as a wit, to his connection with Edward Blount, one of the publishers of F1, and to the fact that commendatory verses were sometimes written in the interest of the publisher(...) Though Corney misread Blount, other evidence, internal and external supports his general conclusion. The external evidence, which is the more significant, though the internal may have first caught Corney’s eye, consists of a series of facts linking Mabbe with Edward Blount, Leonard Digges and Ben Jonson, all three of whom had a part in both Mabbe’s The Rogue and F1. There is the additional fact that Mabbe was pretty well known to seventeenth century readers and that a number of dedications and title-pages refer to him as I.M.

It may clarify the problem to place it in its setting in 1621-23 when the Jaggards with Blount and two other stationers were publishing F1. Blount had for two decades been a power in the trade, and, though he may not, as some have argued, have been the editor of F1, he was obviously a leader in the project. James Mabbe, grandson of a former chamberlain of London, had spent two decades in Magdalen College, Oxford, had been in Spain as secretary to SirJohn Digby, and had been concerned with several books Blount had published. Leonard Digges, son and grandson of distinguished mathematicians and brother of Sir Dudley Digges of the East India Company, was like Mabbe an Oxford man, though not of Magdalen, and a devotee of Spanish literature. His connection with Blount was of more recent origin than Mabbe’s; but it was close enough for Lee to call him and Mabbe Blount’s allies.

Mabbe and Digges must have known each other well. Each had translated a Spanish picaresque novel which Blount published a year or so before F1 but which was in the press simultaneously with it. Digges’s translation was the Gerardo of Gonzalo de Cespedes y Meneses; it was dedicated to the Earls of Pembroke and Montgomery, sponsors of F1. Mabbe’s was, of course, Aleman’s Guzman, called in English The Rogue. That both Digges and Ben Jonson wrote verses commending The Rogue increases the likelihood that Mabbe joined with Digges and Jonson in commending F1.

In the light of these facts, it is significant that the verses of Digges and I.M. in F1 were placed as a unit on the recto of a leaf not contemplated when the rest of the preliminary was printed. All bibliographers say that the original plan was for seven leaves – three sheets of six leaves and the title leaf to be printed separately and inserted between leaves one and two of the quire; and that a fourth sheet was later so printed and folded as to have on the recto of the first leaf the verses of Digges and I.M. and on the recto of the other a half-title over a list of the actors. Opinions differ about the proper placing of the new sheet, but all agree that it was an afterthought...

The internal evidence that Mabbe if the I.M. of F1 consists principally of two phrases common to Mabbe and I.M. Mabbe, paraphrasing Aleman’s Guzman, *was chiding a haughty cavalier for not considering that he is only a man*,

a representant, a poor kinde of Comedian, that acts his part upon the Stage of this World, and comes forth with this or that Office...and that when the play is done, (which can not be long) he must presently enter into the Tyring-house of the grave...

The verses in F1 read:

Wee wondred (Shake-speare) that thou went’st so soone

From the Worlds-Stage, to the Graves-Tyring-roome.

Wee thought thee dead, but this thy printed worth,

Tels thy Spectators, that thou went’st but forth

To enter with applause An Actors Art,

Can dye, and live, to acte a second part.

That’s but an Exit of Mortalitie;

This, a Re-entrance to a Plaudite.

The italicized phrases were not unusual in English literature of the seventeenth century. Professor T.W. Baldwin has discussed the almost endless variations of “All the world’s a stage.” He now calls my attention to the use by John Davies of the other, less common phrase. In the Scourge of Folly (1610) Davies speaks twice of death as a tyring house. Remarkably enough, though critics have not called attention to it, the phrase appears in another of the commendations of F1. Hugh Holland’s sonnet calls the grave death’s “publique tyring-house.”

(Had Mabbe not liked these phrases, he would not have used them in The Rogue, as they are not very close to the original...)


Jonson’s ‘Grave/Tyring House’ in F1:

Soul of the Age!

The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!

My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by

Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie

A little further, to make thee a room:


The rogue: or The life of Guzman de Alfarache. VVritten in Spanish by Matheo Aleman, seruant to his Catholike Maiestie, and borne in Seuill

Alemán, Mateo, 1547-1614?, Mabbe, James, 1572-1642?

London: Printed [by Eliot's Court Press and George Eld] for Edward Blount, 1623.

...Reade so, as it becomes thee to reade, and doe not scoffe at my Fable; and if it shall receiue intertainment at thy hands, accept these lines, which I giue thee, and with them, the minde wherewith they be offered vnto thee. Doe not cast them, as dust and sweepings of the house, vpon the dunghill of obliuion; consider that there may be some filings and parings of price; rake them out, gather them into a heape, and when they come to a conuenient quantitie, put them into the crisole [crucible] of thy consideration; giue to them the fire of the Spirit; and I assure thee, thou shalt extract some gold from them, wherewithall to inrich thy selfe. (snip)


The Rogue, Second Book, Chapter 10 – translator Mabbe

...I remember he told me, That going out of the Palace with the Kings Fa∣uourite,  because he put on his Hat, whilest he was entring into his Coach, he lookt vpon him, as if he would haue eaten him; and shortly after, gaue him to vnderstand as much, by delaying his dispatch, making him daunce attendance at Court many a faire day, till he thought hee had sufficiently pu∣nished both his Purse, & his Patience. It shall euer be in my Letany, Good Lord deliuer vs, when Power and Malice meet.

It is a miserable thing, and much to be pittied, that such an IDOLL [this side idolatry Jonson] as one of these, should affect particular adoration; not considering, that he is but a man, a representant, a poore kinde of Comedian, that acts his part vpon the Stage of this World, and comes forth with this or that Office, thus and thus attended, or at least resembling such a person, and that when the play is done, (which can not be long) he must presently enter into the Tyring-house of the graue, and be turned to dust and ashes, as one of the sonnes of the Earth, which is the common Mother of vs all.

Behold (brother) and see the Enterlude of our life is ended; our dis∣guizes laid aside; and thou art as I; I, as thou; and all of vs as one another. Some doe so strut and stretch out their bodies, and are swolne so bigge vvith the puffing winde of pride, as if they were able to swallow the whole Sea in∣to their bellie. They sport, and play, and follow their pleasures, as if their a∣boade on earth, were to be eternall. They set themselues aloft, and in-throane themselues on high, as if they would get them out of Deaths reach, and that it should not be in his power to tumble them downe. Blessed bee God, that there is a God. And blessed be his mercy, that he hath prouided one equall day of Iustice for vs all.

[see Greville’s description of Oxford in Life of Sidney - mocking Sublime Style]


Secord con’t.

It is inevitable that in so great a work as F1 we should look behind the initials I.M. for a great poet. But we are not likely to find one. No comparable folio of the period, says Lee, was done in so slipshod a fashion or provided with so little commendatory verse. Though Pollard is less severe, he admits that th publishers were only human, that they grew weary in well-doing, and that they had no inkling that they were dealing with the greatest of all English books. They got one good poet and took whatever else was at hand, a mediocre sonnet by Hugh Holland and the undistinguished verses of Digges and I.M. With nine years in which to improve upon F1, the second folio did little if any better. I.M.S, who contributed the longest poem to F2, may have been the otherwise unimportant Jasper Mayne (Student), and Milton, who added eight couplets, had not previously published anything in English and had only an academic reputation. Jonson was in 1632 still the only contributor with a wider reputation than Mabbe’s.


(Folio produced grudgingly with all of its faults on display - Shakespeare's admirable style and sublime/grotesque image-making suitable for monarchy and astonishing/impressing English subjects/slaves. King James - to my mind -  may have extracted it from the Sidneians (including Henry Vere - see Holland's Elegy for 18th Earl who meets Sidney in Elysium) during the period that Henry de Vere was incarcerated in the Tower under threat of death. Shakespeare's Folio appears again in a Royalist context in Milton's Eikonoclastes as Charles I bosom companion as he was incarcerated and writing Eikon Basilike - another book of false image-making according to the republican Milton.

Jonson's Mock Sublime Encomium: water/uroscopy - flights/bank/Mountebank - take/deceive

Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were

To see thee in our waters yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,

That so did TAKE Eliza and our James!


Blount asserts that it is not he who is 'slipshod':

he rogue: or The life of Guzman de Alfarache. VVritten in Spanish by Matheo Aleman, seruant to his Catholike Maiestie, and borne in Seuill

Alemán, Mateo, 1547-1614?, Mabbe, James, 1572-1642?

London: Printed [by Eliot's Court Press and George Eld] for Edward Blount, 1623.

THE PRINTER TO THE Discreet and Curious READER.

AFter so much as you haue read heere, vttered in their iust Commendation, let it be my minute, to be heard in a line or two for my selfe: which is, that you would be pleased not to lay my faults on them. I will neither pretend badnesse of Copy, or his absence, whose prouince it was to correct it; but pray the amendment of these few escapes (as you finde them here-vnder noted,) before you begin to reade: with hope of your pardon, the rather, because it hath beene my care they should be no more.

Ed: Blount.



The Rogue – transl. Mabbe

To thinke vpon a thing, I suppose to be like vnto a pretty little Boy, riding vpon a Hobby-horse, with a Winde-Mill made of paper, which hee beares in his hand vpon the top of a Cane, or some little sticke, that comes first to hand. But to bring that thing to passe, I liken that to an old man, bald-headed, weake-handed, lame-legged, who leaning on two Crutches, goes to the scaling of a high wall, that is strongly defended. Haue I spoke too much? I say it is no lesse. For things oftentimes seeme to bee well dis∣posed of in the night, when the Candles are out, and all is darke, taking * counsaile with our pillow: But the Sunne no sooner appeares, but they vanish away in an instant, like thinne clouds in the heat of Summer. He that could haue seene mee, when I made this account, might easily haue per∣ceiued with what care, and breaking of my sleepes, I framed these things in my thoughts. But they were Castles in the ayre, and fantasticall Chime∣ra's, and had scarce put on my cloathes when I had put them all off againe, and throwne them from mee. I plotted many things, but none of my pro∣iects did hit right, but fell out crosse, if not quite contrarie to what I had proposed. All was vaine, all lyes, all illusion, all falsehood, and deception of the imagination, and like aDuendes Treasure, all cold embers, and dead coales.


Rogue, Guzman – transl. Mabbe

To the Uulgar.

TO me it is no new thing (though perhaps it be to thee) to see (O thou vertue-hating Vulgar) the many bad friends that thou hast; that little, which thou deseruest, and that lesse, which thou vnderstandest: To behold, how biting, how enuious, how couetous thou art; how quick in de∣faming, how slowe in honoring; how certain in ill, how vncertaine in good; how facile to fly out, and how hard to bee curbed in. What Diamond is there so hard, which thy sharpe teeth doe not grind to powder? What vertue scapes Free from thy venemous tongue? What piety doe thy actions protect? What defects doth thy cloake couer? What Treacle doe thy eyes behold, which doe not like the Basilsske im∣poyson? What Flower, though neuer so cordiall, euer entred thorow thy eares, which in the Hiue of thy heart thou didst not conuert into poy∣son? What sanctitie hast not thou calumniated? What innocencie hast not thou persecuted? What singlenesse of heart hast not thou condem∣ned? What iustice hast not thou confounded? What truth hast not thou profaned? In what greene field hast thou set thy foot, which thou hast not defiled with thy filthy luxuries? And if it were possible to paint forth to the life the true fashion of hell, and the torments thereof, thou onely, in my iudgement, mightst (and that truely) be its perfectest counterfet. Thin∣kest thou (peraduenture) that passion blindeth mee, that anger moueth me, or that ignorance violently thrusts me on? No verily. And if thou couldst but be capable of seeing thy owne errour, but suffer thy selfe to be informed, (onely but with turning thy head aside) thou shouldst finde thy actions aeternized, and euen from Adam reproued, as thou thy selfe art already condemned. But alas, what amendment may bee ex∣pected from so inveterated a Canker? Or who is he, that can be so happy, as to vnclue himselfe from this Labyrinth, or to vnseaze himselfe from thy griping talons? I fled from the confused Court, and •…hou followedst me into a poore Village; I with-drew my selfe into solitarie Shades, and there thou madest a shot at me, and drew'st thy venemous shafts at mee; neuer letting me alone, but still vexing and pursuing me, to bring me vn∣der thy rigid Iurisdiction, and tyrannicall Empire. I am well assured that the protection which I carry with mee, will not correct thy crooked dis∣position, nor giue that respect, which in good manners thou owest, to his noble qualitie, nor that in confidence thereof I should get free from thy arresting hand. For thou despising all goodnesse and ciuilitie, (which are things that neuer yet came within the reach of thy better considerati∣on) hast rashly and vnaduisedly bitten so many illustrious and worthy persons, extolling some for their wit (though idle) accusing others for their lightnesse, and defaming a third of lyes and false-hoods. Thou art Mus campestris, a very Field-mouse, and no better. Thou art still nib∣bling on the hard rinde of the sowre and vnsauourie Melons, but when thou commest to those that are sweet and wholesome, and fitter for nou∣rishment, thy stomake fals into a loathing, thou canst not feede on them without surfetting. Thou imitatest that importunate, troublesome, and eare-offending Fly (through his vntuneable buzzing) the Scarabee, who not dwelling on the sweeter sort of Flowers, flyes from forth the de∣licate Gardens, and pleasant Woods, for to settle on a Cowe-sheard, fall vpon a dunghill, and other such like noysome places. Thou doest not make any stay vpon the high moralities of diuiner wits, but onely con∣tent'st thy selfe with that which the Dogge said, and the Foxe answered; this cleaues close vnto thee; this, when thou hast read it, remaineth still with thee, and hauing made it once thine owne, is neuer againe forgotten. O vnfortunate Foxe, that thou must be likened to one of these, and must, like these, be reuiled and persecuted, like an vnprofitable and mischie∣uous member in a Common-wealth! I will not inioy the priuiledge of thy honours, nor the freedome of thy Flatteries, though thou wouldst inrich me with all the wealth of thy praises. For the commendation of wicked men, is but shame and dishonour. And I rather desire the repre∣hension of the good; because the end for which they doe it, is like vnto themselues, then thy depraued estimation, which cannot bee but bad. Thou takest too much libertie vnto thee, thou art an vnbridled beast, a head-strong Iade; and, if occasion of matter bee offered vnto thee, thou runn'st away with it, thou kick'st, and fling'st, thou tramplest mens good names vnder thy feete, thou breakest all bounds of modestie, and tearest all in pieces that stands in thy way, and whatsoeuer else shall seeme good vnto thee. But these faire Flowers, which thou so scornefully treadest vn∣der thy feete, *crowne the Temples of the vertuous, and giue a fragrant and odoriferous smell in the nostrils of those that are noble*. The deadly razour-wounding slashes of thy sharpe tuskes, and the mortall strokes made by thy hands, shall heale the man that is discreet, vnder whose warme shade, I shall happily bee de∣fended from all the *stormes and tempests of thy blustring malice*.


Spiro Non Tibi – Spenser's Faerie Queene and Sidney’s Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia – appeared on *1593* edition of Sidney’s Arcadia:


Adam G. Hooks


The emblem in the compartment at the bottom of the title-page once caused some confusion -- McKerrow and Ferguson don't even attempt an explanation, saying that the meaning "seems never to have been fully explained"; they simply cite the preface to Thomas Nashe's Lenten Stuffe, which is a helpful citation, even considering Nashe's characteristically ironic dedication to "Lustie Humfrey":

Most courteous unlearned louer of Poetry, and yet a Poet thy selfe, of no lesse price then H.S. that in honour of Maid-marrian giues sweete Margera[m] for his Empresse, and puttes the Sowe most sawcily uppon some great personage, what euer she bee, bidding her (as it runnes in the old song) Go from my Garden go, for there no flowers for thee dooth grow. (A2r)

Corbett provides a lengthy explanation for the emblem, which shows a boar backing away from a marjoram bush, with the motto "SPIRO NON TIBI" ("I breathe out [sweet scents] but not for thee"). The general meaning is a condemnation of ignorance, that something wholesome or profitable (i.e., the marjoram bush) is perceived as poisonous by those with poor judgment (i.e., the boar). The emblem was relatively common; Erasmus, in his Adagia, included several proverbs, including this one, on a similar theme: dogs flee from baths, jackdaws from lutes, pigs from both trumpets and marjoram, and asses from lyres (the latter is Asinus ad lyram, and is an entertaining read).

It seems that the emblem was chosen by Hugh Sanford, who obliquely refers to it in his letter "To the Reader," where he defends himself and his editorial decisions. In the previous (and incomplete) 1590 edition of the Arcadia (which included only the first three books of the revised, or so-called "new" Arcadia) the "ouer-seer of the print" inserted the "diuision and summing of the Chapters," and these chapter divisions were removed in the "complete" 1593 edition, where Sanford refers to the "disfigured face ... wherewith this worke not long since appeared to the common view." The 1593 edition included the first three revised books, along with the final three books from the "old" Arcadia, an imperfect solution to the "new" Arcadia's unfinished state, which Sanford recognizes: to his credit, he calls the present edition "the conclusion, not the perfection" of the Arcadia.

Complaining of unlearned readers, Sanford writes that

 To vs, say they, the pastures are not pleasant: and as for the flowers, such as we light on we take not delight in, but the greater part growe not within our reach. Poore soules! what talke they of flowers? They are Roses, not flowers, must doe them good, which if they find not here, they shall doe well to go feed elsewhere: Any place will better like them.

Sanford is nominally complaining of those who might fail to appreciate the worth of the work, either stylistic or ethical--as he says, the "wortheles Reader can neuer worthely esteeme of so worthye a writing"--but this rebuke, along with the title-page emblem, could also be read as a defense of himself, one that characterizes his critics as unlearned swine.

That is certainly how it was read by Sanford's contemporaries, who interpreted the emblem as a bold and unwise inclusion: Sanford is the very "H.S." mentioned by Nashe above, whose "Empresse" [i.e., his impresa, his motto] is meant to honor his "Maid-marrian" (which here just may be a covert allusion to Mary Sidney, the Countess of Pembroke). Nashe was thus alluding specifically to the title-page border of Sidney's Arcadia. John Florio was much more forthcoming in his abuse, for in the letter "To the Reader" in his 1598 Worlde of Words, Florio fills out the initials with some new epithets: "Huffe Snuffe, Horse Stealer, Hob Sowter, Hugh Sot, Humfrey Swineshead, Hodge Sowgelder. Now Master H.S. if this doe gaule you, forbeare kicking hereafter, and in the meane time you may make you a plaister of your dride Marioram."

The title-page border was -- and was well-known for being -- specific to the context of the first edition in 1593. It was re-used for some -- although not all --of the subsequent editions of Sidney's Arcadia, which makes a lot of sense, considering the expense and trouble taken to make it. In 1611 and 1617, the border was also used on the title-page of Spenser's works, which, although it bears no specific relation to The Faerie Queene, does make sense when one considers the close connections between Spenser and Sidney. As Stephen Orgel has written, in an essay in The Renaissance Computer (on page 60):

the association of Spenser with Sidney certainly makes sense: The Shephear des Calender had been dedicated to Sidney; The Faerie Queene is the poem that responds most clearly to Sidney's precepts in The Defence of Poetry, and if we think of Colin Clout and Britomart, shepherds and martial women are as relevant to Spenser's epic as to Sidney's romance. Sidney's coat of arms presides over Spenser's work as Sidney's writing was a model for the poet's endeavor.


Vilia miretur vulgus: mihi flavus Apollo

Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.


Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton,

0.5and Baron of Titchfield.

Right Honorable,

I know not how I shall offend in dedicating my unpolished lines to your lordship nor how the world will censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a burden. Only if your honor seem but pleased, I account myself highly praised and vow to take advantage of all idle hours till I have honored you with some graver labor. But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be sorry it had so noble a godfather and never after ear so barren a land for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest. I leave it to your honorable survey and your honor to your heart's content, which I wish may always answer your own wish and the world's hopeful expectation.

Your honor's in all duty,

William Shakespeare.


Discretion. To Cut. To Discern. To sift out. To separate that which has become confused.


Grotesque Figure/Against Nature/ Invita Minerva/Wit-Ingegno

Ambisinister Droeshout Figure:

This figure that thou here seest put,

It was for gentle Shakespeare CUT,

*Wherein the graver had a strife

With Nature, to out-do the life*:

O could he but have drawn his wit

As well in brass, as he has hit

His face; the print would then surpass

All that was ever writ in brass:

But since he cannot, reader, look

Not on his picture, but his book.


Jonson, Cynthia's Revels

Cynthia: Dear Arete, and Crites, to you two

We give the Charge; impose what Pains you please:


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.


Then, Crites, practise thy DISCRETION.


The word [discretion] was almost invariably used in Elizabethan England as a means of constructing social, cultural, or aesthetic difference. (David Hillman, Puttenham, Shakespeare, and the abuse of rhetoric).


Discreet and Curious – Sidneians

Vulgar and Ignorant – Shakespeare’s Admirers/crew



Elegy On Randolph’s Finger – William Hemminges

...The fluente Flettcher, Beaumonte riche In sence

*for Complement and Courtshypes quintesence,

Ingenious Shakespeare*

[need to check original punctuation]


Jonson - Timber

{Topic 67}} {{Subject: AFFECTED language}}

De vere argutis. [how droll] - 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.


Speculum Tuscanismi - Satire on Earl of Oxford

Gabriel Harvey:

See Venus, archegoddess, howe trimly she masterith owld Mars.

See litle CUPIDE, howe he bewitcheth lernid Apollo.

Bravery in apparell, and maiesty in hawty behaviour,

Hath conquerd manhood, and gotten a victory in Inglande.

Ferse Bellona, she lyes enclosd at Westminster in leade.

Dowtines is dulnes ; currage mistermid is outrage.

Manlines is madnes ; beshrowe Lady Curtisy therefore.

Most valorous enforced to be vassals to Lady Pleasure.

And Lady Nicity rules like a soveran emperes of all.


Where be y e mindes and men that woont to terrify strangers ?

Where that constant zeale to thy cuntry glory, to vertu ?

Where labor and prowes very founders of quiet and peace,

Champions of warr, trompetours of fame, treasurers of welth ?

Where owld Inglande ? Where owld Inglish fortitude and

might ?

Oh, we ar owte of the way, that Theseus, Hercules, Arthur,

And many a worthy British knight were woo'nte to triumphe in.

What should I speake of Talbotts, Brandons, Grayes, with a thousande

Such and such ? Let Edwards go ; letts blott y e remem-braunce

Of puissant Henryes ; or letts exemplify there actes.

Since Galateo came in and Tuscanismo gan usurpe

Vanity above all ; villanye next her ; Statelynes empresse,

NO MAN but minion : stowte, lowte, playne, swayne, quoth a

LORDINGE (snip).


Jonson, Timber

...BUT WHY DO men depart at all from the RIGHT and NATURAL WAYS of speaking? sometimes for necessity, when we are driven, or think it fitter, to speak that in obscure words, or by circumstance, which uttered plainly would offend the hearers. Or to avoid obsceneness, or sometimes for pleasure, and variety, as travellers turn out of the highway, drawn either by the commodity of a footpath, or the delicacy or freshness of the fields. And all this is called åó÷çìáôéóìåíç (eschematismene) or FIGURED LANGUAGE.

“Language most shows a man; speak that I may see thee; it springs out of the most retired and inmost parts of us, and is the image of the parent of it, the MIND. *No glass renders a man’s form or likeness so true as his speech*.”





One of the great paradoxes of the seventeenth-century intellectual tradition, and part of the strangeness of Hobbes's title, is that a book setting out so mathematically to destroy metaphorical language should present itself as an extended trope, a Leviathan. At every stage of its [End Page 795] argument, from the description of the commonwealth as a body to the account of the Roman Church as a kingdom of faeries, Hobbes relies heavily upon figurative language to advance his arguments. The contradiction between Hobbes's theory and his practice offers one of the text's primary and peculiar challenges. There can be no doubt about the existence of the contradiction. Within the tradition of the seventeenth-century's new philosophies, his condemnation of metaphor is among the most uncompromising. For Hobbes, metaphors and other "senseless and ambiguous words," are mere ignes fatui proceeding from the errancy of impassioned imagination (3:37). Note the materialist's pun: words that do not adequately cohere with things are "sense-less." To reason upon metaphors "is wandering amongst innumerable absurdities; and their end, contention and sedition, or contempt" (3:37). Verbal chaos leads to cultural chaos. (The association of metaphor with natural marvels, ignes fatui, is telling and characteristic.) Among the four kinds of language abuse, Hobbes gives metaphors a primary place, describing them as words used "in other sense than that they are ordained for; and thereby deceive others" (3:20). Deceit and equivocation are main themes in his opposition. Counsellors to the sovereign are forbidden to employ tropes because they "are useful only to deceive, or to lead him we counsel towards other ends than his own" (3:246). In matters of demonstration, counsel, and "all rigorous search of truth," Hobbes admits that "sometimes the understanding have need to be opened by some apt similitude.... But for metaphors, they are in this case utterly excluded" (3:58-59). The same judgment appears in his statement that "in reckoning, and seeking of truth, such speeches ['the use of metaphors, tropes, and other rhetorical figures, instead of words proper'] are not to be admitted" (3:34). At the end of an early chapter on speech, Hobbes deems "metaphors, and tropes of speech... less dangerous" forms of "ratiocination" than morally charged signifiers such as gravity and stupidity, but he does so only "because they profess their inconstancy; which the other do not" (3:29). The dismissal of metaphor from the rigorous search for truth (and certainly the Leviathan is that) is absolute and unqualified



Prospero. You do look, my son, in a moved sort,

As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

As I foretold you, were all spirits and 1880

Are melted into air, into thin air:

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,

The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve 1885

And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

As dreams are made on, and our little life

Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;

Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled: 1890

Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:

If you be pleased, retire into my cell

And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,

To still my beating mind.


Alto Ingegno: Oxford’s Sin

By its nature the sublime, “produced by greatness of soul, imitation, or imagery,” cannot be contained in words, and Longinus often refers to its heights as reached by journey, or flight: “For, as if instinctively, our soul is uplifted by the true sublime; it takes a proud flight, *and is filled with joy and vaunting, as though it had itself produced what it has heard*.” Longinus focuses on figurative language as a vehicle for such flight, and argues that it is not just the writer who is transported by sublimity, but the reader as well.


La Forme In-Formante: A Reconsideration of the Grotesque

Sylvie Debevec Henning

Since it’s appearance as wall decorations in the Early Roman Empire, the grotesque has been seen as disturbing and unsettling. It disrupts the classical perception of ordered reality by failing to conform to accepted standards of mimesis and decorum. Moreover, it contravenes rationalism and any systemic use of thought. Relying instead on what Mikhail Bakhtin has called an “inner logic,” it contests the very premises of conventional logic, e.g., the principles of non-contradiction, difference and identity..This “logic of the grotesque,”it follows, employs contradiction and undecidability in order to reveal the insufficiency of traditional categories and dichotomous distinctions. Specifically it questions the opposition between the ludicrous and the fearsome, on the one hand, and the familiar and the uncanny, on the other. In turn even these two pairs of false opposites are shown to be intertwined in a network of agonistic relationships. Thus the grotesque, rather than being a play with terror, as John Ruskin describes it, or a “play with the absurd” as Wolfgang Kayser insists, might more appropriately be called a play with the very indeterminacy of existence. The grotesque reveals that nothing is as clear and distinct as we would like. Nothing is either totally identical with itself nor totally different from everything else. Indeed, where we would find boundaries and barriers, there are only OVERLAYS and IMBRICATIONS.


Sublime and Grotesque Shakespeare - Paradox

Upon the Effigies of my worthy Friend, the Author Master Willian Shakefspeare, and his Workes

Spectator, this Lifes Shaddow is; To see

The truer image and a livelier he

Turne Reader. But, observe his Comicke vaine,

Laugh, and proceed next to a Tragicke straine,

Then weepe; *So when thou find’st two contraries,

Two different passions from thy rapt soule rise*,

Say, (who alone effect such wonders could)

Rare Shake-speare to the life thou dost behold