Gondibert: An Heroick Poem/The Authour's Preface To His Much Honour'd Friend Mr Hobs

by William Davenant

Errata

THE

Authour's

PREFACE

To his much honour'd Friend

M^r HOBS.

Sir,

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

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

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

His Successour to fame, (and consequently to censure) is Virgil; whose toyls nor virtue cannot free him from the peevishness (or rather curiosity) of divers Readers. He is upbraided by some (who perhaps are affected Antiquaries, and make priority of time the measure of excellence) for gaining his renown by the imitation of Hom r: Whilest others (no less bold with that ancient Guide) say, He hath so often led him into Heaven and Hell, till by conversation with Gods and Ghosts, he sometimes deprives us of those natural probabilities in Story, which are instructive to humane life: And others affirm (if it be not irreverence to record their opinion) That even in Wit, he seems deficient by many omissions; as if he had design'd a penance of gravity to himself and to posterity: And by their observing that continued gravity, me thinks they look upon him, as on a Musitian composing of Anthems; whose excellence consists more in the solemness, than in the fancy; and upon the body of his Work, as on the body of a Giant, whose force hath more of strength, than quickness, and of patience than activity.

But these bold Censurers are in danger of so many Enemies, as I shall wisely shrink from them; and onely observe, That if any Disciples of unimitable Virgil can prove so formal, as to esteem Wit (as if it were levity) an imputation to the Heroick Muse (by which malevolent word, Wit, they would disgrace her extraordinary heights) yet if those grave Judges will be held wise, they must endure the fate of Wise men; who always have but few of their society; for many more than consist of their number (perhaps not having the sullenness to be of it) are taken with those bold flights, and think, 'tis with the Muse (whose noble Quarry is men) as with the Eagle, who when he soars high, stoops more prosperously, and is most certain of his prey. And surely Poets (whose business should represent the Worlds true image often to our view) are not less prudent than Painters, who when they draw Landschaps, entertain not the Eye wholly with even Prospect; and a continued Flat; but (for variety) terminate the sight with lofty Hills, whose obscure heads are sometimes in the clouds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Language (which is the onely Creature of Man's creation) hath like a Plant, seasons of flourishing and decay; like Plants is remov'd from one soyl to another, and by being so transplanted, doth often gather vigour and increase. But as it is false husbandrie to graft old branches upon young stocks: so we may wonder that our Language (not long before his time created out of a confusion of others, & then beginning to flourish like a new Plant) should (as helps to its increase) receive from his hand, new grafts of old wither'd words. But this vulgar exception, shall onely have the vulgar excuse; which is, that the unlucky choice of his Stanza, hath by repitition of Rhime, brought him to the necessity of many exploded words.

If we proceed from his Language to his Argument, we must observe with others, that his noble and most artfull hands deserv'd to be employed upon matter of a more natural, and therefore of a more usefull kind. His allegorical Story (by many held defective in the connexion) resembling (me thinks) a continuance of extraordinarie Dreams; such as excellent Poets, and Painters, by being over-studious, may have in the beginning of Feavers: And those moral visions are just of so much use to humane application, as painted History, when with the cousenage of lights, it is represented in Scenes, by which we are much less informed than by actions on the Stage.

Thus, Sir, I have (perhaps) taken pains to make you think me malicious, in observing how far the Curious have look'd into the errours of others; Errours which the natural humour of imitation hath made so like in all (even from Homer to Spencer) as the accusations against the first appear but little more than repitition in every process against the rest: and comparing the resemblance of errour in persons of one generation, to that which is in those of another age; we may find it exceeds not any where, notoriously, the ordinary proportion. Such limits to the progress of every thing (even of worthiness as well as defect) doth imitation give: for whilest we imitate others, we can no more excel them, than he that sayls by others Maps can make a new discovery: and to Imitation, Nature (which is the onely visible power, and operation of God) perhaps doth needfully enclineus, to keep us from excesses. For though every man be capable of worthiness and unworthiness (as they are defined by Opinion) yet no man is built strong enough to bear the extremities of either, without unloading himself upon others shoulders, even to the weariness of many. If courage be worthiness, yet where it is over-grown into extreams, it becomes as wilde and hurtfull as ambition; and so what was reverenced for protection, grows to be abhorr'd for oppression: If Learning (which is not Knowledge, but a continu'd Sayling by fantastick and uncertain winds towards it) be worthiness, yet it hath bounds in all Philosophers; and Nature that measur'd those bounds, seems not so partial, as to allow it in any one a much larger extent than in another: as if in our fleshly building, she consider'd the furniture and the room, alike, and together; for as the compass of Diadems commonly fits the whole succession of those Kings that wear them; so throughout the whole World, a very few inches may distinguish the circumference of the heads of their Subjects: Nor need we repine that Nature hath not some Favorites, to whom she doth dispence this Treasure, Knowledge, with a prodigious Liberality. For as there is no one that can be said vastly to exceed all mankind; so divers that have in learning transcended all in some one Province, have corrupted many with that great quantity of false gold; and the authority of their stronger Science hath often serv'd to distract, or pervert their weaker disciples.

And as the qualities which are term'd good, are bounded, so are the bad; and likewise limited, as well as gotten by imitation; for amongst those that are extraordinary, either by birth or brain (for with the usual pride of Poets, I pass by common crowds, as negligently as Princes move from throngs, that are not their own Subjects) we cannot find any one so egregious (admitting cruelty and avarice for the chiefest evils; and errours in government or doctrine, to be the greatest errours) but that divers of former or succeeding times may enter the scales with them, and make the Ballance even; though the passion of Historians would impose the contrary on our belief; who in dispraise of evil Princes, are often as unjust and excessive, as the common People: for there was never any Monarch so cruel, but he had living subjects, nor so avaricious, but that his Subjects were richer than himself; nor ever any disease in government so extreamly infectious, as to make universal Anarchy, or any errour in Doctrine so strong by the Maintainer, but that Truth (though it wrestled with her often, and in many places) hath at some season, and on some ground, made her advantages and successes apparent: Therefore we may conclude, that Nature, for the safety of mankind, hath as well (by dulling and stopping our progress with the constant humour of imitation) given limits to courage and to learning, to wickedness and to errour, as it hath ordain'd the shelves before the shore, to restrain the rage and excesses of the Sea.

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

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

These were partly the reasons why I chose a Story of such Persons as profess'd Chaistian Religion; but I ought to have been most enclin'd to it, because the Principles of our Religion conduce more to explicable virtue, to plain demonstrative justice, and even to Honour (if Virtue the Mother of Honour be voluntary, and active in the dark, so as she need not Laws to compel her, nor look for witnesses to proclaim her) than any other Religion that e're assembled men to Divine Worship. For that of the Jews doth still consist in a sullen separation of themselves from the rest of humane flesh, which is a fantastical pride of their own cleanness, and an uncivil disdain of the imagined contagiousness of others, and at this day, their cantonizing in Tribes, and shyness of alliance with neighbours, deserves not the term of mutual love, but rather seems a bestial melancholy of herding in their own Walks. That of the Ethnicks, like this of Mahomet, consisted in the vain pride of Empire, and never enjoyn'd a Jewish separation, but drew all Nations together; yet not as their companions of the same species, but as slaves to a Yoke: Their sanctity was Honour, and their Honour onely an impudent courage, or dexterity in destroying. But Christian Religion hath the innocence of village neighbour-hood, and did anciently in its politicks rather promote the interest of Mankind than of States; and rather of all States than of one; for particular endeavours onely in behalf of our own homes, are signs of a narrow moral education, not of the vast kindness of Christian Religion, which likewise ordain'd as well an universal communion of bosoms, as a community of wealth. Such is Christian Religion in the precepts, and was once so in the practice. But I resolv'd my Poem should represent those of a former Age, perceiving 'tis with the servants of Christ, as with other servants under temporal power, who with all cleanness, and even with officious diligence perform their duty in their Masters sight, but still as he grows longer absent, become more slothfull, unclean and false. And this, who ever compares the present with the Primitive times, may too palpably discern.

When I consider'd the actions which I meant to describe, (those inferring the persōs) I was again perswaded rather to chuse those of a former Age, than the present; & in a Century so far remov'd, as might preserve me from their improper examinations, who know not the requisites of a Poem, nor how much pleasure they lose (and even the pleasures of Heroick Poesie are not unprofitable) who take away the liberty of a Poet, and fetter his feet in the shackles of an Historian: For why should a Poet doubt in Story to mend the intrigues of Fortune by more delightfull conveyances of probable fictions, because austere Historians have enter'd into bond to truth? an obligation which were in Poets, as foolish and unnecessary as is the bondage of false Martyrs, who lye in chains for a mistaken opinion: but by this I would imply, that Truth narrative and past, is the Idol of Historians, (who worship a dead thing) and truth operative, and by effects continually alive, is the Mistress of Poets, who hath not her existence in matter, but in reason.

I was likewise more willing to derive my Theme from elder times, as thinking it no little mark of skilfulness to comply with the common Infirmity; for men (even of the best education) discover their eyes to be weak, when they look upon the glory of virtue (which is great actions) and rather endure it at distance than near; being more apt to believe, and love the renown of Predecessors, than of Contemporaries, whose deeds excelling theirs in their own sight, seem to upbraid them, and are not reverenc'd as examples of Virtue, but envi'd as the favours of Fortune: But to make great Actions credible, is the principal Art of Poets; who though they allow the utilitie of Fictions, should not (by altering and subliming Storie) make use of their priviledge to the detriment of the Reader; whose incredulitie (when things are not represented in proportion) doth much allay the relish of his pitie, hope, joy, and other Passions: for we may descend to compare the deceptions in Poesie to those of them that profess dexteritie of Hand, which resembles Conjuring, and to such we come not with the intention of Lawyers to examine the evidence of Facts, but are content (if we like the carriage of their feigned motion) to pay for being well deceiv'd.

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

Having told you why I took the actions that should be my Argument from men of our own Religion, and given you reasons for the choyce of the time and place design'd for those actions; I must next acquaint you with the Schools where they were bred; not meaning the Schools where they took their Religion, but Moralitie; for I know Religion is universally rather inherited than taught: and the most effectual Schools of Moralitie are Courts and Camps: Yet towards the first, the people are unquiet through envie; and towards the other through fear; and always jealous of both for Injustice, which is the natural scandal cast upon authoritie and great force. They look upon the outward glory or blaze of Courts, as wild Beasts in dark nights stare on their Hunters Torches; but though the expences of Courts (whereby they shine) is that consuming glory in which the people think their libertie is wasted (for wealth is their libertie and lov'd by them even to jealousie (being themselves a courser sort of Princes, apter to take than to pay) yet Courts (I mean all abstracts of the multitude; either by King, or Assemblies) are not the Schools where men are bred to oppression, but the Temples where sometimes Oppressours take sanctuarie; a safetie which our reason must allow them. For the ancient laws of Sanctuarie (derived from God) provided chiefly for actions that proceeded from necessitie; and who can imagine less than a necessitie of oppressing the people, since they are never willing either to buy their Peace, or to pay for War?

Nor are Camps the Schools of wicked Destroyers, more than the Inns of Court (being the Nurserie of Judges) are the Schools of Murderers; for as Judges are avengers of private men against private Robbers; so are Armies the avengers of the Publick against publick Invaders, either civil or forreign: and Invaders are Robbers, though more in countenance than those of the High way, because of their number. Nor is there other difference between Armies when they move towards Sieges or Battel, and Judges moving in their Circuit (during the danger of extraordinarie malefactors) with the guards of the Countie; but that the latter is a less Army, and of less Discipline. If any man can yet doubt of the necessarie use of Armies, let him studie that which was anciently call'd a Monster, the Multitude, (for Wolves are commonly harmless when they are met alone, but very uncivil in Herds) and he will not find that all his kindred by Adam are so tame and gentle, as those Lovers that were bred in Arcadia: or to reform his opinion, let him ask why (during the utmost age of Historie) Cities have been at the charge of defensive Walls, and why Fortification hath been practic'd so long, till it is grown an Art?

I may now believe I have usefully taken from Courts and Camps, the patterns of such as will be fit to be imitated by the most necessary men; and the most necessary men are those who become principal by prerogative of bloud, (which is seldom unassisted with education) or by greatness of mind, which in exact definition is Virtue. The common Crowd (of whom we are hopeless) we desert, being rather to be corrected by laws (where precept is accompanied with punishment) than to be taught by Poesie; for few have arriv'd at the skill of Orpheus, or at his good fortune, whom we may suppose to have met with extraordinarie Grecian Beasts, when so succesfully he reclaim'd them with his Harp. Nor is it needfull that Heroick Poesie should be levell'd to the reach of Common men: for if the examples it presents prevail upon their Chiefs, the delight of Imitation (which we hope we have prov'd to be as effectual to good as to evil) will rectifie by the rules, which those Chiefs establish of their own lives, the lives of all that behold them; for the example of life, doth as much surpass the force of Precept, as Life doth exceed Death.

In the choice of these Objects (which are as Sea-marks to direct the dangerous voyage of life) I thought fit to follow the rule of Coasting Maps, where the Shelves and Rocks are describ'd as well as the safe Channel; the care being equal how to avoid as to proceed: and the Characters of men (whose passions are to be eschew'd) I have deriv'd from the distempers of Love or Ambition: for Love and Ambition are too often the raging Feavers of great minds. Yet Ambition (if the vulgar acception of the word were corrected) would signifie no more than an extraordinary lifting of the feet in the rough ways of Honour, over the impediments of Fortune; and hath a warmth (till it be chaf'd into a Fever) which is necessary for every virtuous breast: for good men are guiltie of too little appetite to greatness, and it either proceeds from that they call contentedness (but contentedness, when examin'd, doth mean something of Lasiness as well as Moderation) or from some melancholy precept of the Cloyster; where they would make life (for which the world was onely made) more unpleasant than Death: as if Nature, the Vicegerent of God (who in providing delightfull varieties, which virtuous greatness can best possess, or assure peaceably to others, implicitly commanded the use of them) should in the necessaries of life (life being her chief business) though in her whole reign she never committed one error, need the counsel of Fryars, whose solitude makes them no more fit for such direction, than Prisoners long fetter'd are for a race.

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

Love, in the interpretation of the Envious, is Softness; in the Wicked, good men suspect it for Lust; and in the Good, some spiritual men have given it the name of Charity: And these are but terms to this which seems a more consider'd definition; that indefinite Love is Lust; and Lust when it is determin'd to one, is Love; This definition too but intrudes it self on what I was about to say, which is (and spoken with soberness though like a Lay-man) that Love is the most acceptable imposition of Nature, the cause and preservation of Life, and the very healthfulness, of the Mind, as well as of the Body; but Lust (our raging Feaver) is more dangerous in Cities, than the Calenture in Ships.

Now (Sir) I again ask you pardon, for I have again digressed; my immediate business being to tell you, That the distempers of Love and Ambition are the onely Characters I design'd to expose as objects of terrour: and my purpose was also to assure you, that I never meant to prostitute Wickedness in the Images of low and contemptible people, as if I expected the meanest of the multitude for my Readers (since onely the Rabble is seen at common executions) nor intended to raise iniquity, to that height of horrour, till it might seem the fury of something worse than a beast. In order to the first I believe the Spartans (who to deter their children from drunkenness, accustom'd their Slaves to vomit before them) did by such fulsom examples, rather teach them to disdain the Slaves, than to loath Wine, for Men seldom take notice of the vice in abject persons, especially where necessity constrains it. And in observation of the second, I have thought, that those horrid spectacles (when the latter race of Gladiators made up the excesses of Romane feasts) did more induce the Guests to detest the cruelty of mankind, than increase their courage by beholding such an impudent scorn of Life.

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

The first Act is the general preparative, by rendering the chiefest characters of persons, and ending with something that looks like an obscure promise of design. The second begins with an introducement of new persons, so finishes all the characters, and ends with some little performance of that design which was promis'd at the parting of the first Act. The third makes a visible correspondence in the under-walks (or lesser intrigues) of persons; and ends with an ample turn of the main design, and expectation of a new. The fourth (ever having occasion to be the longest) gives a notorious turn to all the under-walks, and a counter-turn to that main design which chang'd in the third. The fifth begins with an entire diversion of the main, and dependant Plots; then makes the general correspondence of the persons more discernable, and ends with an easie untying of those particular knots, which made a contexture of the whole; leaving such satisfaction of probabilities with the Spectatour, as may perswade him that neither Fortune in the fate of the Persons, nor the Writer in the Representment, have been unnatural or exorbitant. To these Meanders of the English Stage I have cut out the Walks of my Poem; which in this description may seem intricate and tedious; but will, I hope (when men take pains to visit what they have heard describ'd) appear to them as pleasant as a summer passage on a crooked River, where going about, and turning back, is as delightfull as the delays of parting Lovers.

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

I shall say a little, why I have chosen my inter-woven Stanza of four, though I am not oblig'd to excuse the choice; for numbers in Verse must, like distinct kinds of Musick, be expos'd to the uncertain and different taste of several Ears. Yet I may declare, that I believ'd it would be more pleasant to the Reader, in a Work of length, to give this respite or pause, between every Stanza (having endeavour'd that each should contain a period) than to run him out of breath with continu'd Couplets. Nor doth alternate Rhyme by any lowliness of cadence, make the sound less Heroick, but rather adapt it to a plain and stately composing of Musick; and the brevity of the Stanza renders it less subtile to the Composer, and more easie to the Singer; which in stilo recitativo, when the Story is long, is chiefly requisite. And this was indeed (if I shall not betray vanity in my Confession) the reason that prevail'd most towards my choice of this Stanza, and my division of the main work into Canto's, every Canto including a sufficient accomplishment of some worthy design or action; for I had so much heat (which you, Sir, may call pride, since pride may be allow'd in Pegasus, if it be a praise to other Horses) as to presume they might (like the Works of Homer ere they were joyn'd together, and made a Volume by the Athenian King) be sung at Village-feasts; though not to Monarchs after Victory, nor to Armies before battel. For so (as an inspiration of glory into the one, and of valour into the other) did Homer's Spirit, long after his bodies rest, wander in musick about Greece.

Thus you have the Model of what I have already built, or shall hereafter joyn to the same frame. If I be accus'd of Innovation, or to have transgress'd against the method of the Ancients; I shall think my self secure in believing, that a Poet who hath wrought with his own instruments at a new design, is no more answerable for disobedience to Predecessours, than Law-makers are lyable to those old Laws which themselves have repealed.

Having describ'd the outward frame, the large rooms within, the lesser conveyances, and now the furniture; it were orderly to let you examine the matter of which that furniture is made: But though every Owner who hath the Vanity to shew his ornament, or Hangings, must endure the curiosity, and censure of him that beholds them; yet I shall not give you the trouble of enquiring what is, but tell you of what I design'd their substance; which is, Wit: And Wit is the laborious, and the lucky resultances of Thought, having towards its excellence (as we say of the strokes of Painting) as well a happiness as care. It is a Web consisting of the subt'lest threds; and like that of the Spider, is considerately woven out of our selves; for a Spider may be said to consider, not onely respecting his solemness and tacit posture (like a grave Scout in ambush for his Enemy) but because all things done, are either from consideration, or chance; and the work of Chance are accomplishments of an instant, having commonly a dissimilitude; but hers are the works of time, and have their contextures alike. Wit is not onely the luck and labour, but also the dexteritie of thought, rounding the world, like the Sun, with unimaginable motion; and bringing swiftly home to the memorie, universal surveys. It is the Souls Powder, which when supprest (as forbidden from flying upward) blows up the restraint, and loseth all force in a farther ascension towards Heaven (the region of God) and yet by nature is much less able to make any inquisition downward towards Hell, the Cel of the Devil; but breaks through all about it (as far as the utmost it can reach) removes, uncovers, makes way for Light, where Darkness was inclos'd, till great bodies are more examinable by being scatter'd into parcels; and till all that find its strength (but most of mankind are strangers to Wit, as Indians are to Powder) worship it for the effects, as deriv'd from the Deitie It is in Divines, Humilitie, Exemplariness and Moderation; in States-men, Gravitie, Vigilance, Benign Complacencie, Secrecie, Patience and Dispatch; in Leaders of Armies, Valor, Painfulness, Temperance, Bountie, Dexteritie in Punishing and Rewarding, and a sacred Certitude of Promise: It is in Poets, a full comprehension of all recited in all these; and an abilitie to bring those comprehensions into action, when they shall so far forget the true measure of what is of greatest consequence to humanitie, (which are things righteous, pleasant and usefull) as to think the delights of Greatness equal to that of Poesie; or the Chiefs of any Profession more necessary to the world, than excellent Poets. Lastly, though Wit be not the envie of ignorant Men, 'tis often of evil States-men, and of all such imperfect great spirits, as have it in a less degree than Poets: for though no man envies the excellencie of that, which in no proportion he ever tasted, (as men cannot be said to envie the condition of Angels) yet we may say the Devil envies the Supremacie of God, because he was in some degree partaker of his glory.

That which is not, yet is accounted, Wit, I will but sleightly remember; which seems very incident to imperfect youth, and sickly age; Young men (as if they were not quite deliver'd from Childhood, whose first exercise is Language) imagine it consists in the Musick of Words, and believe they are made wise by refining their speech, above the vulgar Dialect; which is a mistake almost as great as that of the people, who think Orators, (which is a title that crowns at riper years those that have practis'd the dexteritie of tongue) the ablest men; who are indeed so much more unapt for governing, as they are more fit for Sedition: and it may be said of them as of the Witches of Norway, who can sell a Storm for a Doller, which for Ten Thousand they cannot allay. From the esteem of speaking they proceed to the admiration of what are commonly call'd Conceits, things that sound like the knacks or toys of ordinarie Epigrammatists: and from thence, after more conversation and varietie of objects, grow up to some force of Fancie; Yet even then, like young Hawks, they stray and flie far off, using their libertie as if they would nere return to the Lure; and often go at check, ere they can make a stedie view, and know their game.

Old men, that have forgot their first Childhood and are returning to their second, think it lies in agnominations, and in a kind of an alike tinkling of words; or else in a grave telling of wonderfull things, or in comparing of times without a discover'd partialitie; which they perform so ill by favouring the past, that, as 'tis observ'd, if the bodies of men should grow less, though but an unmeasurable proportion in Seven years, yet reckoning from the Floud, they would not remain in the Stature of Frogs; So if States and particular persons had impair'd in government, and increas'd in wickedness proportionably to what Old men affirm they have done, from their own infancie to their age; all publick Policie had been long since Confusion, and the congregated World would not suffice now to people a Village.

The last thing they suppose to be Wit, is their bitter Morals, when they almost declare themselves Enemies to Youth & Beautie; by which severitie they seem cruel as Herod when he surpris'd the sleeping Children of Bethlem: for Youth is so far from wanting Enemies, that it is mortally its own; so unpractis'd, that it is everywhere cosen'd more than a stranger among Jews; & hath an infirmitie of sight more hurtfull than Blindness to Blind men; for though it cannot chuse the way it scorns to be led. And Beautie, though many call themselves her Friends, hath few but such as are false to her: Though the World sets her in a Throne, yet all about her (even her gravest Counsellors) are Traytors, though not in conspiracie, yet in their distinct designs; and to make her certain not onely of distress but ruin, she is ever pursu'd by her most cruel enemie, the great Destroyer, Time. But I will proceed no farther upon old men, nor in recording mistakes; lest finding so many more, than there be Verities, we might believe we walk in as great obscurity as the Egyptians when Darkness was their Plague. Nor will I presume to call the matter of which the Ornaments or Substantial parts of this Poem-are compos'd, Wit; but onely tell you my endeavour was, in bringing Truth (too often absent) home to mens bosoms, to lead her through unfrequented and new ways, and from the most remote Shades; by representing Nature, though not in an affected, yet in an usual dress.

'Tis now fit, after I have given you so long a survay of the Building, to render you some accompt of the Builder, that you may know by what time, pains, and assistants I have proceeded, or may hereafter finish my work: and in this I shall take occasion to accuse, and condemn, as papers unworthy of light, all those hastie digestions of thought which were published in my Youth; a sentence not pronounc'd out of melancholly rigour, but from a cheerfull obedience to the just authoritie, of experience: For that grave Mistress of the World, Experience (in whose profitable School, those before the Floud stay'd long, but we like wanton children come thither late, yet too soon are call'd out of it, and fetch'd home by Death) hath taught me, that the engenderings of unripe age become abortive, and deform'd; and that after obtaining more years, those must needs prophesie with ill success, who make use of their Visions in Wine; That when the ancient Poets were valu'd as Prophets, they were long and painfull in watching the correspondence of Causes, ere they presum'd to foretel effects: and that 'tis a high pesumption to entertain a Nation (who are Poets standing Guest, and require Monarchical respect) with hastie provisions; as if a Poet might imitate a familiar dispatch of Faulkoners, mount his Pegasus, unhood his Muse, and with a few flights boast he hath provided a feast for a Prince. Such posting upon Pegasus I have long since forborn; and during my Journey in this Work, have mov'd with a slow pace; that I might make my survays as one that travelled not bring home the names, but the proportion, and nature of things: and in this I am made wise by two great examples; for the friends of Virgil acknoledge he was many years in doing honour to Æneas (still contracting at night into a closer force, the abundance of his morning strengths) and Statius rather seems to boast, than blush, when he confesses he was twice Six^{[errata 1]} in renowning the War between Argos and Thebes.

Next to the usefulness of Time (which here implies ripe age (I believ'd pains most requisite to this undertaking: for though painfulness in Poets (according to the usual negligence of our Nation in Examining, and their diligence to censure) seems always to discover a want of natural force, and is traduc'd, as if Poesie concern'd the World no more than Dancing; whose onely grace is the quickness and facilitie of motion; and whole perfection is not of such publick consequence, that any man can merit much by attaining it with long labour; yet let them consider, and they will find (nor can I stay long ere I convince them in the important use of Poesie) the natural force of a Poet more apparent, by but confessing that great forces ask great labour in managing, than by an arrogant braving the World, when he enters the field with his undisciplin'd first thoughts: For a wise Poet, like a wise General, will not shew his strengths till they are in exact government and order; which are not the postures of chance, but proceed from Vigilance and Labour.

Yet to such painfull Poets some upbraid the want of extemporary fury, or rather inspiration, a dangerous word; which many have of late successfully us'd; and inspiration is a spiritual Fit, deriv'd from the ancient Ethnick Poets, who then, as they were Priests, were States-men too, and probably lov'd dominion; and as their well dissembling of Inspiration begot them reverence then, equal to that which was paid to Laws; so these, who now profess the same fury, may perhaps by such authentick example pretend authoritie over the people; It being not unreasonable to imagine, they rather imitate the Greek Poets, than the Hebrew Prophets, since the later were inspir'd for the use of others; and these, like the former, prophesie for themselves. But though the ancient Poets are excus'd, as knowing the weak constitution of those Deities from whom they took their Priesthood; and the frequent necessitie of dissembling for the ease of Government: yet these (who also from the chief to the meanest are States-men and Priests, but have not the luck to be Poets) should not assume such saucie familiaritie with a true God.

From the time and labour requir'd to my Poem, let me proceed to my Assistants; by which I shall not so much attest my own weakness, as discover the difficulties and greatness of such a work: For when Solomon made use of his Neighbours towards his Building, he lost no reputation, nor by demanding those aids was thought a lesser Prince; but rather publish'd his Wisdom in rightly understanding the vast extent of his enterprise: Who likewise with as much glorie made use of Fellers of Wood, and Hewers of Stone, as of learned Architects: Nor have I refrain'd to be oblig'd to men of any Science, as well mechanical as liberal: Nor when Memorie (from that various and plentifull stock, with which all observers are furnish'd, that have had diversitie of life) presented me by chance with any figure, did I lay it aside as useless, because at that instant I was not skilfull to manage it artfully? but I have staid and recorded such objects, till by consulting with right Masters I have dispos'd of them without mistake; It being no more shame to get Learning at that very time, and from the same Text; when, and by which, we instruct others; than for a froward Scout, discovering the Enemie, to save his own life at a pass, where he then teaches his Partie to escape.

In remembring mine own helps, I have consider'd those which others in the same necessitie have taken; and find that Writers (contrarie to my inclination) are apter to be beholding to Books, than to Men; not onely as the first are more in their possessions (being more constant Companions than dearest friends) but because they commonly make such use of treasure found in Books, as of other treasure belonging to the Dead, and hidden under ground; for they dispose of both with great secrecie, defacing the shape or images of the one, as much as of the other; through fear of having the original of their stealth or abundance discover'd. And the next cause why Writers are more in Libraries than in company, is, that Books are easily open'd, and learned men are usually shut up, by a froward or envious humour of retention, or else unfold themselves, so as we may read more of their weakness and vanitie, than Wisdom; imitating the Holy-day-custom in great Cities, where the shops of Chaundrie, and slight wares, are familiarly open, but those of solid and staple merchandise are proudly lock'd up.

Nor indeed can it be expected that all great Doctors are of so benign a nature, as to take pains in gaining treasure (of which Knowledge is the greatest) with intent to inrich others so easily, as if they stood every where with their Pockets spred, & ready to be pickt: nor can we read of any Father, who so far and secretly adopted his Son to a Book of his own writing, as that his Son might be thought Authour of that written Wit, as much as his Father was Authour of him: Nor of any Husband that to his darling Wife would so far surrender his Wisdom, as that in publique, he could endure to let her use his Dictates, as if she would have others think her wiser than himself. By this rememberance of that usual parsimony in owners of Wit, towards such as would make use of their plenty, I lament the fortune of others, and may wish the Reader to congratulate mine; For I have found Friends as ready as Books, to regulate my conceptions, or make them more correct, easie and apparent. But though I am become so wise, by knowing my self, as to believe the thoughts of divers transcend the best which I have written; yet I have admitted from no man any change of my Design, nor very seldom of my sense: For I resolv'd to have this Poem subsist and continue throughout with the same complexion and spirit; though it appear but like a plain Family, of a neighbourly alliance, who marry into the same moderate quality and garb, and are fearfull of introducing strangers of greater rank, lest the shining presence of such, might seem to upbraid, and put all about them out of countenance.

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

And likewise, when by the strict survey and Government that hath been had over this Poem, I shall think to govern the Reader (who though he be noble, may perhaps judge of supream Power like a very Commoner, and rather approve authority, when it is in many, than in one) I must acquaint him, that you had not alone the trouble of establishing and destroying; but enjoy'd your intervals and ease by Two Colleagues; Two that are worthy to follow you into the Closets of Princes; if the knowledge of Men past, (of whom Books are the remaining minds) or of the present (of whom Conversation is the usefull and lawfull Spie) may make up such greatness, as is fit for great Courts: or if the rays that proceed from the Poetick Planet, be not a little too strong for the sight of modern Monarchs; who now are too seldom taught in their youth, like Eaglets to fortifie their eyes by often soaring near the Sun. And though this be here but my testimony, it is too late for any of you to disclaim it; for since you have made it valid by giving yours of GONDIBERT under your hands, you must be content to be us'd by me, as Princes are by their preferr'd Subjects; who in the very act of taking honour, return it to the Giver; as benefits receiv'd by the creature, manifest the power, and redound to the glory of the Creator.

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

Men are chiefly provok'd to the toyl of compiling Books, by love of Fame, and often by officiousness of Conscience, but seldom with expectation of Riches: for those that spend time in writing to instruct others, may finde leasure to inform themselves, how mean the provisions are which busie and studious minds can make for their own sedentary bodies: And Learned men (to whom the rest of the world are but Infants) have the same foolish affection in nourishing others minds, as Pelicans in feeding their young; which is, at the expence of the very subsistance of Life. 'Tis then apparent they proceed by the instigation of Fame, or Conscience; and I believe many are perswaded by the first (of which I am One) and some are commanded by the second. Nor is the desire of Fame so vain as divers have rigidly imagin'd; Fame being (when belonging to the Living) that which is more gravely call'd, a steddy and necessary reputation; and without it, hereditary Power, or acquir'd greatness can never quietly govern the World. 'Tis of the dead a musical glory, in which God, the Authour of excellent goodness, vouchsafes to take a continual share; For the remember'd virtues of Great men are chiefly such of his works (mention'd by King David) as perpetually praise him: and the good fame of the Dead prevails by example, much more than the reputation of the Living, because the later is always suspected by our Envy, but the other is chearfully allow'd, and religiously admir'd: for Admiration (whose Eyes are ever weak) stands still, and at gaze upon great things acted far off; but when they are near, walks slightly away as from familiar objects. Fame is to our Sons a solid Inheritance, and not usefull to remote Posterity; and to our Reason, 'tis the first, though but a little taste of Eternity.

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

Having confess'd that the desire of Fame made me a Writer; I must declare, why in my riper age I chose to gain it more especially by an Heroical Poem; and the Heroick, being by most allow'd to be the most beautifull of Poems, I shall not need to decide the quarrels of Poets about Degrees of Excellence in Poesie: But 'tis not amiss ere I avow the usefulness of the Science in general (which was the cause of my undertaking) to remember the value it had from the greatest and most worthy spirits in all Ages: for I will not abstain (though it may give me the reputation but of common reading) to mention, that Pisistratus, (though a Tyrant) liv'd with the praise, and dy'd with the blessing of all Greece, for gathering the scatter'd limbs of Homer's Works into a Body: and that great Alexander by publickly conversing with it, attain'd the universal opinion of Wit; the fame of such inward forces conducing as much to his Conquests, as his Armies abroad: That the Athenian Prisoners were thought worthy of life and liberty for singing the Tragedies of Euripides: That Thebes was sav'd from destruction by the victors reverence to the memory of Pindar: That the elder Scipio, (who govern'd all the civil world) lay continually in the bosom of Ennius: That the great Numantin and Lælius (no less renown'd) were openly proud when the Romans believ'd they assisted Terence in his Comedies: That Augustus (to whom the mysteries of the universal Empire were more familiar, than domestick Dominion to Modern Kings) made Virgil the partner of his joys, and would have divided his businesses with Horace: And that Lucan was the fear and envy of Nero. If we approch nearer our own times, we may adde the triumphal Entry which the Papacy gave to Petrarch; and how much Tasso is still the glory and delight of Italie.

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

89
Gondibert lib. 2. Canto 6.Praise, is Devotion fit for mighty Minds;
 The diff'ring World's agreeing Sacrifice;
Where Heaven divided Faiths united finds:
 But Pray'r in various discord upward flies.

90
For Pray'r the Ocean is, where diversly
 Men steer their course, each to a sev'ral Coast;
Where all our Int'rests so discordant be,
 That half beg winds by which the rest are lost.

91
By Penitence when We our selves forsake,
 'Tis but in wise design on piteous Heaven;
In Praise We nobly give what God may take,
 And are without a Beggars blush forgiven.

92
Its utmost force, like Powder's, is unknown;
 And though weak Kings excess of Praise may fear,
Yet when 'tis here, like Powder dang'rous grown,
 Heavens Vault receives what would the Palace tear.

After this contemplation, how acceptable the voice of Poesie hath been to God, we may (by descending from Heaven to Earth) consider how usefull it is to Men; and among Men, Divines are the chief, because ordain'd to temper the rage of humane power by spiritual menaces, as by sudden and strange threatenings madness is frighted into Reason; and they are sent hither as Liegers from God, to conserve in stedfast motion the slippery joynts of Government; and to perswade an amity in divided Nations: therefore to Divines I first address my self; and presume to ask them, why, ever since their dominion was first allow'd, at the great change of Religions, (though ours more than any inculcates obedience, as an easie Medicine to cool the impatient and raging world into a quiet rest) mankind hath been more unruly than before? it being, visible that Empire decreas'd with the increase of Christianity; and that one weak Prince did anciently suffice to govern many strong Nations: but now one little Province is too hard for theit own wise King; and a small Republick hath Seventy years maintain'd their Revolt to the disquiet of many Monarchs. Or if Divines reply, we cannot expect the good effects of their Office, because their spiritual Dominion is not allow'd as absolute, then it may be ask'd them more severely, why 'tis not allow'd? for where ever there hath been great degrees of power, (which hath been often and long in the Church) it discovers (though worldly vicissitude be objected as an excuse) that the managers of such power, since they endeavour'd not to enlarge it, believ'd the increase unrighteous; or were in acting, or contriving that endeavour, either negligent or weak: For Power, like the hasty Vine, climbs up apace to the Supporter; but if not skilfully attended and dress'd, in stead of spreading and bearing fruit, grows high and naked; and then (like empty title) being soon useless to others, becomes neglected, and unable to support it self.

But if Divines have fail'd in governing Princes (that is, of being entirely believ'd by them) yet they might obliquely have rul'd them, in ruling the People; by whom of late, Princes have been govern'd; and they might probably rule the People, because the heads of the Church (where ever Christianity is preach'd) are Tetrarchs of Time; of which they command the fourth Division; for to no less the Sabbaths, and Days of Saints amount; and during those days of spiritual triumph, Pulpits are Thrones; and the people oblig'd to open their Ears, and let in the ordinances and commands of Preachers; who likewise are not without some little Regency throughout the rest of the Year; for then they may converse with the Laity, from whom they have commonly such respect (and respect soon opens the door to perswasion) as shews their Congregations not deaf in those holy seasons, when speaking predominates.

But notwithstanding these advantages, the Pulpit hath little prevail'd; for the world is in all Regions revers'd, or shaken by disobedience, an Engine with which the great Angels (for such were the Devils, and had faculties much more sublim'd than Men) believ'd they could disorder Heaven. And it is not want of capacity in the lower Auditory that makes Doctrine so unsuccessfull; for the people are not simple, since the Gentrie (even of strongest education) lack sufficient defence against them, and are hourly surpriz'd in (their common Ambushes) their Shops: For on sacred Days they walk gravely and sadly from Temples, as if they had newly buried their sinfull Fathers; at night sleep as if they never needed forgiveness; and rise with the next Sun, to lie in wait for the Noble, and the Studious. And though these quiet Couseners are amongst the People, esteemed their steddy Men; yet they honour the courage, and more active parts of such disobedient Spirits, as disdaining thus tamely to deceive, attempt bravely to rob the State; and the State they believe (though the Helm were held by Apostles) would always consist of such Arch-robbers, as who ever strips them, but waves the tedious satisfaction which the Lasie expect from Laws, and comes a shorter way to his own.

Thus unapt for obedience (in the condition of Beasts whose appetite is Liberty, and their Liberty a license of Lust) the People have often been, since a long, and notorious power hath continued with Divines; whom though with reverence we accuse for mistaken lenity, yet are we not so cruel to expect they should behave themselves to Sinners like fierce Phinehas, or preach with their Swords drawn, to kill all they cannot perswade: But our meaning is to shew how much their Christian meekness hath deceived them in taming this wild monster, the People; and a little to rebuke them for neglecting the assistance of Poets; and for upbraiding the Ethnicks, because the Poets manag'd their Religion; as if Religion could walk more prosperously abroad, than when Morality (respectfully, and bare-headed as her Usher) prepares the way: it being no less true, that during the dominion of Poesie, a willing and peacefull obedience to Superiours becalm'd the world; then that obedience, like the marriage yoak, is a restraint more needfull and advantagious than liberty; and hath the same reward of pleasant quietness, which it anciently had, when Adam, till his disobedience, enjoyed Paradise. Such are the effects of sacred Poesie, which charms the People with harmonious Precepts; and whose aid Divines should not disdain, since their Lord (the Saviour of the World) vouchsaf'd to deliver his Doctrine in Parabolical Fictions.

Those that be of next importance are Leaders of Armies; and such I measure not by the suffrages of the People, who give them respect as Indians worship the evil Spirit, rather for sear of harm, than for affection; but esteem them as the painfull Protectours and Enlargers of Empire; by whom it actively moves, and such active motion of Empire is as necessary as the motion of the Sea, where all things would putrifie, and infect one another, if the Element were quiet: so is it with mens minds on shore, when that Element of greatness and honour, Empire, stands still; of which the largeness is likewise as needfull, as the vastness of the Sea: For God ordain'd not huge Empire as proportionable to the Bodies, but to the Minds of Men; and the Minds of Men are more monstrous, and require more space for agitation, and the hunting of others, than the bodies of Whales. But he that believes men such moderate Sheep, as that many are peacefully containd in a narrow Fold, may be better inform'd in America, where little Kings never enjoy a harmless neighbourhood, unless protected defensively amongst themselves, by an Emperour that hath wide possessions, and priority over them, (as in some few places) but when restrain'd in narrow dominion, where no body commands and hinders their nature, they quarrel like Cocks in a Pit; & the Sun in a days travel there, sees more battels (but not of consequence, because their Kings though many, are little) than in Europe in a Year.

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

Our last application is to States-men, and makers of Laws; who may be reasonably reduc'd to one; since the second differ no more from the first, than Judges (the Copies of Law-makers) differ from their Originals: For Judges, like all bold Interpreters, by often altering the Text, make it quite new; and States-men (who differ not from Law-makers in the act, but in the manner of doing) make new Laws presumptuously without the consent of the people; but Legislators more civilly seem to whistle to the Beast, and stroak him into the Yoak: and in the Yoak of State, the people (with too much pampering) grow soon unruly and draw awrie; Yet States-men and Judges (whose business is Governing, and the thing to be Govern'd is the People) have amongst us (we being more proud and mistaken than any other famous Nation) look'd gravely upon Poetrie, and with a negligence that betray'd a Northerly ignorance; as if they believ'd they could perform the work without it. But Poets (who with wise diligence studie the People, and have in all ages by an insensible influence govern'd their manners) may justly smile when they perceive that Divines, Leaders of Armies, States-men & Judges, think Religion, the Sword, or (which is unwritten Law, and a secret Confederacie of Chiefs) Policie, or Law (which is written, but seldom rightly read) can give without the help of the Muses, a long and quiet satisfaction in government: For Religion is to the wicked and faithless (who are many) a jurisdiction against which they readily rebel; because it rules severely, yet promiseth no worldly recompence for obedience; obedience being by every humane Power invited with assurances of visible advantage. The good (who are but few) need not the power of Religion to make them better, the power of Religion proceeding from her threatnings, which though mean weapons, are fitly us'd, since she hath none but base Enemies. We may observe too, that all Virtuous men are so taken up with the rewards of Heaven, that they live as if out of the World; and no government receives assistance from any man meerly as he is good; but as that goodness is active in temporal things.

The Sword is in the hand of Justice no guard to Government, but then when Justice hath an Army for her own defence; and Armies, if they were not pervertible by Faction, yet are to Common-wealths like Kings Physitians to poor Patients; who buy the cure of their disorder'd bodies at so high a rate, that they may be said to change their Sickness for Famin. Policie (I mean of the Living, not of the Dead; the one being the last rules or designs governing the Instant, the other those laws that began Empire) is as mortal as States-men themselves: whose incessant labours make that Hectick feaver of the mind, which insensibly dispatches the Bodie: and when we trace States-men through all the Histories of Courts, we find their Inventions so unnecessarie to those that succeed at the Helm, or so much envi'd as they scarce last in authoritie till the Inventors are buried: and change of Designs in States-men (their designs being the weapons by which States are defended) grows as distructive to Government, as a continual change of various weapons into Armies; which must receive with ruin any sudden assault, when want of practice makes unactiveness. We cannot urge that the ambition of States-men (who are obnoxious to the people) doth much disorder Government; because the peoples anger, by a perpetual coming in of new Oppressours is so diverted in considering those whom their Eyes but lately left, as they have not time enough to rise for the Publick: and evil successors to power are in the troubled stream of State, like succeeding Tides in Rivers, where the Mud of the former is hidden by the filth of the last.

Laws, if very ancient, grow as doubtfull and difficult as Letters on buried Marble, which onely Antiquaries read; but if not Old, they want that reverence which is therefore paid to the virtues of Ancestors, because their crimes come not to our remembrance; and yet great men must be long dead whose ills are forgotten. If Laws be New, they must be made either by very Angels, or by Men that have some vices; and those being seen make their Virtues suspected; for the People no more esteem able men, whose defects they know, (though but errors incident to Humanitie) than an Enemie values a strong Army having experience of their Errors. And new Laws are held but the projects of necessitous Power, new Nets spred to intangle Us; the Old being accounted too many, since most are believ'd to be made for Forfeitures: and such letting of bloud (though intended by Law-makers for our health) is to the People always out of Season: for those that love life with too much Passion (and Money is the Life-bloud of the People) ever fear a Consumption. But be Law-makers as able as Nature or Experience (which is the best Art) can make them; yet though I will not yield the Wicked to be wiser than the Virtuous, I may say, offences are too hard for the Laws, as some Beasts are too wily for their Hunters; and that Vice over-grows Virtue, as much as Weeds grow faster than Medicinable Herbs: or rather that Sin, like the fruitfull slime of Nilus, doth increase into so many various shapes of Serpents (whose walks and retreats are winding and unknown) that even Justice, (the painfull pursuer of Mischief) is become wearie, and amaz'd.

After these meditations, me thinks Government resembles a Ship, where though Divines, Leaders of Armies, States-men, and Judges are the trusted Pilots; yet it moves by the means of winds, as uncertain as the breath of Opinion; and is laden with the People; a Fraight much loosser, and more dangerous than any other living Stowage; being as troublesom in fair weather, as Horses in a Storm. And how can these Pilots stedily maintain their course to the Land of Peace and Plentie, since they are often divided at the Helm? For Divines (when they consider great Chiefs) suppose Armies to be sent from God for a temporarie Plague, not for continual Jurisdiction; and that Gods extream punishments (of which Armies be the most violent) are ordain'd to have no more lastingness than extreams in Nature. They think (when they consider States-men) Policie hath nothing of the Dove, and being all Serpent, is more dangerous than the dangers it pretends to prevent: and that out-witting (by falshood and corruption) adverse States, or the People (though the People be often the greater enemie and more perilsom being nearest) is but giving reputation to Sin, and that to maintain the Publick by politick evils, is a base prostitution of Religion, and the prostitution of Religion is that unpardonable whordom, which so much anger'd the Prophets. They think Law nothing but the Bible forcibly usurp'd by covetous Lawyers, and disguis'd in a Paraphrase more obscure than the Text; and that 'tis onely want of just reverence to Religion, which doth expose us to the charges and vexations of Law.

The Leaders of Armies accuse Divines, for unwisely raising the War of the World by opposite Doctrine, and for being more indiscreet in thinking to appease it by perswasion; forgetting that the dispatchfull ending of War is blows; and that the natural region for Disputes, when Nations are engag'd (though by Religion) is the Field of Battel, not Schools and Academies; which they believe (by their restless controversies) less civil than Camps; as intestine Quarrel is held more barbarous than forreign War. They think States-men to them (unless dignifi'd with militarie Office) but mean Spies, that like African Foxes (who attend on Lions, ranging before and about for their valiant prey) shrink back till the danger be subdu'd, and then with insatiate hunger come in for a share: Yet sometimes with the Eye of Envie (which enlarges objects like a multiplying glass) they behold these States-men, and think them immense as Whales; the motion of whose vast bodies can in a peacefull calm trouble the Ocean till it boyl; After a little hastie wonder, they consider them again with disdain of their low constraints at Court; where they must patiently endure the little follies of such small Favourites as wait even near the wisest Thrones; so fantastically weak seem Monarchs in the sickness of Care (a feaver in the head) when for the humorous pleasure of Diversitie, they descend from purple Beds, and seek their ease upon the ground. These great Leaders say also, that Law moves slowly as with fetter'd feet, and is too tedious in redress of wrongs; whilst in Armies Justice seems to ride post, and overtakes Offenders ere the contagion of crimes can infect others: and though in Courts and Cities great men fence often with her, and with a forcive sleight put by her sword; yet when she retires to Camps, she is in a posture not onely to punish the offences of particular Greatness, but of injurious Nations.

States-men look on Divines as men whose long solitude and Meditations on Heaven hath made them Strangers upon Earth: and 'tis acquaintance with the World, and knowledge of Man that makes abilities of Ruling: for though it may be said that a sufficient belief of Doctrine would beget Obedience (which is the uttermost design of Governing) yet since diversitie of Doctrine doth distract all Auditors, and makes them doubtfully dispose their obedience (even towards spiritual powers, on which many would have the temporal depend) therefore States-men think themselves more fit to manage Empire, than Divines; whose usefulness consists in perswasion; and perswasion is the last medicine (being the most desperate) which States-men apply to the distemper of the People: for their distemper is madness, and madness is best cur'd with terrour and force. They think that Leaders of Armies are to great Empire, as great Rivers to the continent; which make an easie access of such benefits as the Metropolis (the seat of Power) would else at vast distances with difficultie reach: yet often like proud Rivers when they swell, they destroy more by once overflowing their borders at home, than they have in long time acquir'd from abroad: They are to little Empire like the Sea to low Islands, by nature a defence from Forreigners, but by accident, when they rage, a deluge to their own shore. And at all seasons States-men believe them more dangerous to Government than themselves: for the popularitie of States-men is not so frequent as that of Generals; or if by rare sufficiencie of Art it be gain'd; yet the force of crowds in Cities, compar'd to the validitie of men of Arms, and discipline, would appear like a great number of Sheep to a few Wolves, rather a cause of Comfort than of Terrour. They think that chief Ministers of Law by unskilfull integritie, or love of popularity (which shews the Mind, as meanly born as bred) so earnestly pursue the protection of the Peoples right, that they neglect publick Interest; & though the Peoples right and publick Interest be the same, yet usually by the People, the Ministers of Law mean private men, and by the other the State; and so the State and the People are divided, as we may say a man is divided within himself, when Reason and passion (and Passion is folly) dispute about consequent actions; and if we were call'd to assist at such intestine War, we must side with Reason, according to our dutie, by the Law of Nature; and Natures Law, though not written in Stone (as was the Law of Religion) hath taken deep impression in the Heart of Man, which is harder than marble of Mount-Sinai.

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

Great Ministers of Law think likewise that Leaders of Armies are like ill Physitians; onely fit for desperate cures, whose boldness calls in the assistance of Fortune, during the fears and troubles of Art; Yet the health they give to a distemper'd State is not more accidental, than the preservation of it is uncertain; because they often grow vain with success, and encourage a restor'd State to such hazards, as shew like irregularitie of life in other recover'd bodies; such as the cautious and ancient gravitie of Law disswaded: For Law (whose temperate design is safetie) rather prevents by constancie of Medicine (like a continu'd Diet) diseases in the bodie politick, than depends after a permitted Sickness upon the chance of recoverie. They think States-men strive to be as much Judges of Law as themselves; being chief Ministers of Law, are Judges of the People, and that even good States-men pervert the Law more than evil Judges: For Law was anciently meant a defensive Armour, and the People took it as from the Magazine of Justice, to keep them safe from each others violence; but Sates-men use it as offensive Arms, with which in forraging to get relief for Supream Power, they often wound the Publick.

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

We have observ'd that the People since the latter time of Christian Religion, are more unquiet than in former Ages; so disobedient and fierce, as if they would shake off the ancient imputation of being Beasts, by shewing their Masters they know their own strength: and we shall not erre by supposing that this conjunction of four-fold Power hath fail'd in the effects of authority by a mis-application; for it hath rather endeavour'd to prevail upon their bodies, than their minds; forgetting that the martial art of constraining is the best, which assaults the weaker part; and the weakest part of the people is their minds; for want of that which is the minds onely strength, Education; but their Bodies are strong by continual labour; for Labour is the Education of the Body. Yet when I mention the mis-application of force, I should have said, they have not onely fail'd by that, but by a main errour; Because the subject on which they should work, is the Mind; and the Mind can never be constrain'd, though it may be gain'd by perswasion: And since Perswasion is the principal instrument, which can bring to fashion the brittle and mis-shapen mettal of the Mind, none are so fit to this important work as Poets; whose art is more than any, enabled with a voluntary, and chearfull assistance of Nature; and whose operations are as restless, secret, easie and subtile, as is the influence of Planets.

I must not forget (lest I be prevented by the vigilance of the Reader) that I have profess'd not to represent the beauty of Virtue in my Poem, with hope to perswade common men; and I have said, that Divines have fail'd in discharging their share of Government, by depending upon the effects of perswasion; and that States-men in managing the people, rely not upon the perswasion of Divines, but upon force. In my despair of reducing the minds of Common men, I have not confest any weakness of Poesie in the general Science; but rather inferr'd the particular strength of the Heroick; which hath a force that overmatches the infancy of such minds as are enabled by degrees of Education; but there are lesser forces in other kinds of Poesie, by which they may train and prepare their understandings; and Princes and Nobles being reform'd and made Angelical by the Heroicks, will be predominant lights, which the people cannot chuse but use for direction; as Glow-worms take in, and keep the Suns beams till they shine, and make day to themselves.

In saying that Divines have vainly hop'd to continue the peace of Government by perswasion, I have imply'd such perswasions as are accompanied with threatnings, and seconded by force; which are the perswasions of Pulpits; where is presented to the obstinate, Hell after Death; and the civil Magistrate during life constrains such obedience as the Church doth ordain. But the perswasions of Poesie, in stead of menaces, are Harmonious and Delightfull Insinuations, and never any constraint; unless the ravishment of Reason, may be call'd Force. And such Force (contrary to that which Divines, Commanders, States-men and Lawyers use) begets such obedience as is never weary or griev'd.

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

It may be objected, that the education of the Peoples minds (from whence virtuous Manners are deriv'd) by the several kinds of Poesie (of which the Dramatick hath been in all Ages very successfull) is opposite to the receiv'd opinion, that the people ought to be continu'd in ignorance; a Maxim sounding like the little subtilty of one that is a States man onely by Birth or Beard, and merits not his place by much thinking: For Ignorance is rude, sensorious, jealous, obstinate, and proud; these being exactly the ingredients of which Disobedience is made; and Obedience proceeds from ample consideration; of which knowledge consists; and knowledge will soon put into one Scale the weight of oppression, and in the other, the heavie burden which Disobedience lays on us in the effects of civil War: & then even Tyranny will seem much lighter, when the hand of supream Power binds up our Load, and lays it artfully on us, than Disobedience (the Parent of Confusion) when we all load one another; in which every one irregularly increases his fellows burdens, to lessen his own.

Others may object that Poesie on our Stage, or the Heroick in Musick (for so the latter was anciently us'd) is prejudicial to a State; as begetting Levity, and giving the people too great a diversion by pleasure and mirth. To these (if they be worthy of satisfaction) I reply, That whoever in Government endeavours to make the people serious and grave, (which are attributes that may become the peoples Representatives, but not the people) doth practise a new way to enlarge the State, by making every Subject a States-man: and he that means to govern so mournfully (as it were, without any Musick in his Dominion) must lay but light burdens on his Subjects; or else he wants the ordinary wisdom of those, who to their Beasts, that are much loaden whistle all the day to encourage their Travel. For that supream Power which expects a firm obedience in those, who are not us'd to rejoycing, but live sadly, as if they were still preparing for the funeral of Peace, hath little skill in contriving the lastingness of Government, which is the principal work of Art; And less hath that Power consider'd Nature; as if such new austeritie did seem to tax, even her, for want of gravity, in bringing in the Spring so merrily with a musical variety of Birds; And such sullen power doth forget, that Battels (the most solemn and serious business of Death) are begun with Trumpets and Fifes; and anciently were continu'd with more diversity of Musicks. And that the Grecian Laws (Laws being the gravest endeavour of humane Councels, for the ease of Life) were long before the days of Lycurgus (to make them more pleasant to memory) publish'd in Verse: And that the wise Athenians (dividing into three Parts the publick Revenue) expended one in Plays and Shows, to divert the people from meeting to consult of their Rulers merit, and the defects of Government: And that the Romans had not so long continu'd their Empire, but for the same diversions, at a vaster charge.

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

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

I cannot also be ignorant that divers (whose conscientious Melancholy amazes and discourages others Devotion) will accuse Poets as the admirers of Beauty; and Inventors, or Provokers of that which by way of aspersion they call Love. But such, in their first accusation seem to look carelesly and unthankfully upon the wonderful works of God; or else through low education, or age, become incompetent Judges of what is the chief of his works upon Earth. And Poets, when they praise Beauty, are at least as lawfully thankfull to God, as when they praise Seas, Woods, Rivers, or any other parts that make up a prospect of the world. Nor can it be imagin'd but that Poets in praising them, praise wholly the Maker; and so in praising Beauty: For that Woman who believes she is prais'd when her beauty is commended, may as well suppose that Poets thinks she created her self: And he that praises the inward beauty of Women, which is their Virtue, doth more perform his duty than before: for our envious silence in not approving, and so encouraging what is good, is the cause that vice is more in fashion and countenance than Virtue. But when Poets praise that which is not beauty, or the mind which is not virtuous, they erre through their mistake, or by flattery; and flattery is a crime so much prosperous in others who are companions to greatness, that it may be held in Poets rather kindness than design.

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

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

Thus having taken measure (though hastily) of the extent of those great Professions that in Government contribute to the necessities, ease, and lawfull pleasures of Men; and finding Poesie as usefull now, as the Ancients found it towards perfection and happiness; I will, Sir, (unless with these Two Books you return me a discouragement) chearfully proceed: and though a little time would make way for the Third, and make it fit for the Press, I am resolv'd rather to hazard the inconvenience which expectation breeds, (for divers with no ill satisfaction have had a taste of Gondibert) than endure that violent envy which assaults all Writers whilest they live; though their Papers be but fill'd with very negligent and ordinary thoughts: and therefore I delay the publication of any part of the Poem, till I can send it you from America; whither I now speedily prepare; having the folly to hope, that when I am in another World (though not in the common sense of dying) I shall find my Readers (even the Poets of the present Age) as temperate, and benign, as we are all to the Dead, whose remote excellence cannot hinder our reputation. And now, Sir, to end with the Allegory which I have so long continu'd, I shall, (after all my busie vanitie in shewing and describing my new Building) with great quietness, being almost as weary as your self, bring you to the Back-door, that you may make no review but in my absence; and steal hastily from you, as one who is asham'd of all the trouble you have receiv'd from,

 

(SIR)

 

Your most humble, and most

affectionate Servant

From the Louure
in Paris, January
2. 1650.

Wil. D'avenant.

1. Original: Seven was amended to Six: detail