Cannot a man be reckoned in the state
Of valour, but at this idolatrous rate?
I thought that fortitude had been a mean1
'Twixt fear and rashness; not a lust obscene,
Or appetite of offending, but a skill,
Or science of discerning good and ill.
And you, sir, know it well, to whom I write,
That with these mixtures we put out her light;
Her ends are honesty, and public good:
And where they want, she is not understood.
No more are these of us; let them then go,
I have the list of mine own faults to know,
Look to, and cure he's not a man hath none,
But like to be, that every day mends one,
And feels it; else he tarries by the beast.
Can I discern how shadows are decreast,
Or grown, by height or lowness of the sun,
And can I less of substance? when I run,
Ride, sail, am coach'd, know I how far I have
And my mind's motion not? or have I none?
No! he must feel and know, that will advance.
Men have been great, but never good by chance,
Or on the sudden. It were strange that he
Who was this morning such a one, should be
Sydney ere night! or that did go to bed
Coryat, should rise the most sufficient head
Of Christendom; and neither of these know,
Were the rack offer'd them, how they came so !
1 I thought that fortitude had been a mean, &c.] This subject the poet subsequently dilated upon in the New Inn. The name of this unfortunate piece is never mentioned now without a scornful sneer at the dotage which produced it. As a whole, indeed, much cannot be said in its favour, but it may safely be pronounced that the observations of Lovel on true valour (vol. v. pp. 386-392,) to which the line just quoted has been referred, will not be easily paralleled for justness of thought, vigour of sentiment, and beauty of expression, in this or any other language.
'Tis by degrees that men arrive at glad
Profit in aught; each day some little add,
In time 'twill be a heap: this is not true
Alone in money, but in manners too.
Yet we must more than move still, or go on,
We must accomplish: 'tis the last key-stone
That makes the arch; the rest that there were put
Are nothing till that comes to bind and shut.
Then stands it a triumphal mark! then men
Observe the strength, the height, the why, and when
It was erected and still walking under,
Meet some new matter to look up and wonder!
Such notes are virtuous men! they live as fast
As they are high; are rooted, and will last.
They need no stilts, nor rise upon their toes,
As if they would belie their stature; those
Are dwarfs of honour, and have neither weight
Nor fashion; if they chance aspire to height,
'Tis like light canes, that first rise big and brave,
Shoot forth in smooth and comely spaces; have
But few and fair divisions: but being got
Aloft, grow less and straighten'd; full of knot,
And last, go out in nothing! you that see
Their difference, cannot choose which you will be.
You know (without my flattering you) too much
For me to be your indice. Keep you such,
That I may love your person, as I do,
Without your gift, though I can rate that too,
By thanking thus the courtesy to life,
Which you will bury; but therein, the strife
May grow so great to be example, when,
As their true rule or lesson, either men,
Donors or donees, to their practice shall
Find you to reckon nothing, me owe all.
AN EPISTLE TO MASTER JOHN Selden.2
KNOW to whom I write; here, I am sure,
Though I be short, I cannot be obscure :3
Less shall I for the art or dressing care,
Truth and the Graces best when naked are.
Your book, my Selden, I have read; and much
Was trusted, that you thought my judgment such
To ask it though, in most of works, it be
A penance where a man may not be free,
Rather than office; when it doth, or may
Chance, that the friend's affection proves allay
Unto the censure.
Your's all need doth fly
Of this so vicious humanity;
Than which, there is not unto study a more
Pernicious enemy. We see before
2 This Epistle, as the folio calls it, is prefixed to the first edition of Selden's Titles of Honour, 1614, with this address: "Ben Jonson to his honoured friend, master John Selden."
There was an extraordinary degree of kindness between these two most learned men, which continued to the end of Jonson's life. They communicated their works, and mutually assisted each other. Selden, who was above flattery, affectionately addresses our author in the work here mentioned, as one that was
omnia carmina doctus,
Et callet mythov plasmata, et historiam.
And he, who was superior to envy, speaks with conscious pride of the aid which he derived from Selden's unbounded acquaintance with literary subjects.
Selden's life was useful, and his death instructive. He was drawn in by the crooked politics of the times in which he lived; but he escaped from them to his studies, at every convenient opportunity; and though he might be sometimes dissatisfied, he was never factious.
3 Though I be short, &c.]
A many of books, even good judgments wound Themselves, through favouring that is there not found;
But I to your's far otherwise shall do,
Not fly the crime, but the suspicion too :
Though I confess (as every muse hath err'd,
And mine not least) I have too oft preferr'd
Men past their terms, and prais'd some names too much;
But 'twas with purpose to have made them such.
Since, being deceiv'd, I turn a sharper eye
Upon myself, and ask to whom, and why,
And what I write? and vex it many days
Before men get a verse, much less a praise;
So that my reader is assured, I now
Mean what I speak, and still will keep that vow.
Stand forth my object, then. You that have been
Ever at home, yet have all countries seen;
And like a compass, keeping one foot still
Upon your centre, do your circle fill
Of general knowledge; watch'd men, manners too,
Heard what times past have said, seen what ours do!
Which grace shall I make love to first? your skill,
Or faith in things? or is't your wealth and will
T' inform and teach? or your unwearied pain
Of gathering? bounty in pouring out again?
What fables have you vex'd, what truth redeem'd,
Antiquities search'd, opinions disesteem'd,
Impostures branded, and authorities urg'd!
What blots and errors have you watch'd and purg'd
Records and authors of! how rectified
Times, manners, customs! innovations spied!
Sought out the fountains, sources, creeks, paths,
And noted the beginnings and decays!
Where is that nominal mark, or real rite,
Form, act, or ensign, that hath scaped your sight?
How are traditions there examin'd! how
Conjectures retriev'd! and a story now
And then of times (besides the bare conduct
Of what it tells us) weav'd in to instruct!
I wonder'd at the richness, but am lost,
To see the workmanship so' exceed the cost!
To mark the excellent seasoning of your style,
And manly elocution! not one while
With horror rough, then rioting with wit;
But to the subject still the colours fit,
In sharpness of all search, wisdom of choice,
Newness of sense, antiquity of voice!
I yield, I yield. The matter of your praise
Flows in upon me, and I cannot raise
A bank against it: nothing but the round
Large clasp of Nature such a wit can bound.
Monarch in letters! 'mongst the Titles shown
Of others honours, thus enjoy thy own.
I first salute thee so; and gratulate
With that thy style, thy keeping of thy state;
In offering this thy work to no great name,
That would, perhaps, have praised and thank'd the
But nought beyond. He, thou hast given it to,
Thy learned chamber-fellow, knows to do
It true respects: he will not only love,
Embrace, and cherish; but he can approve
And estimate thy pains, as having wrought
In the same mines of knowledge; and thence brought
Humanity enough to be a friend,
And strength to be a champion, and defend
Thy gift 'gainst envy. O how I do count
Among my comings in, and see it mount,
He, thou hast given it to,
Thy learned chamber-fellow, &c.] The volume is dedicated by Selden to "my most beloved friend, and chamber-fellow, Edward Heyward, of Cardeston, in Norfolk, Esq."
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