I have had the good fortune to find an essay that collects in one place many of the words and concepts I have been exploring – ideas that may explain why the Earl of Oxford chose to divorce his name from that of his intellectual heir Shake-speare. The �
��culture wars’ of the Elizabethan court and city of London appear to have been fought just as vigorously in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries as in later periods although the conflict appears to have been mostly covert. Ben Jonson,
who established many of the terms that figure in this more general and sustained Poets’ War, aggressively positioned himself a court critic and an arbiter of literary manners and mores – and as a figure who could mediate between city and court with a
neoclassical program of rules and literary laws derived from his studies. In Cynthia’s Revels and the figure of Amorphus, the Deformed [Oxford], Jonson makes his most sustained attack on courtly foibles and trifles in an attempt to reform the manners
of the court and to lower the tension between court and city following the Essex Rebellion. The rising of Essex and in particular his effort to solicit the aid of the City of London in his attempt to overturn the corruptions of the court would have put
courtly makers such as the Earl of Oxford in the position of being an intolerable political liability. Poetic styles and courtly manners were often regarded as reliable indicators of ethics and temperaments; and the mysterious beauties of wit and fancy �
� the ineffable je-dne-sais-quois of aristocratic identity – became indefensible in the harsh realities of a destabilized reign.

As the loyal turtle dove forever immolates himself on the nest of the Phoenix in Chester’s ‘Love’s Martyr’ – in my mind’s eye - Oxford withdraws himself from the factional fray and any suggestion that his manners and forms may have brought
shame or instability to his Queen and her court.

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

O lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me that you should love
After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceasèd I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart.
O lest your true love may seem false in this,
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
  For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,
  And so should you, to love things nothing worth.

*******************************
Melville – Captain Edward Fairfax Vere and the Sacrifice of Billy Budd/Beauty during a period of political crisis

*******************************
The Making of the Subject of the Leviathan By Miloš Petrović

(...)Only that [English Literature] which is capable of registering even the slightest social wobble could make sense of—and communicate—changes in something so elusive as one’s conception and experience of oneself. That is why literature, with its
deep layers of significance, is particularly suited to our analysis. More than the works of Hobbes or Locke, it is the plays and poetry of England that could grasp the subtlety of the important changes that were by the turn of the eighteenth century [
seventeenth for Oxford/Court/Wit and Jonson/City/Sense] becoming as much proper to man’s inner life as they were to his dealings with others. What literature seemed to have registered this time around was, in fact, so dramatic that it would transform
English literature itself, its codes and canons, as well as the social map of the land. This refers, most immediately, to those great disputes in England—the early eighteenth century culture wars—which were fought, among other things, at least on the
surface of it, over the question of the essential element in a successful literary creation. Already in full sway by the end of the seventeenth century, these disputes involved the rebellious city of London on the one hand, which sought to define the
essence of poetry in terms of “sense” (judgment, intellect, mind), and those grouped around the royal court on the other, who defended the older definition of poetry as essentially an expression of “wit” (fancy, imagination, or taste). The latter
praised wit as “a capacity for wide-ranging speculation that soars above man’s necessities and desires… a flame and agitation of soul that little minds and men of action cannot comprehend.” They deemed it “the purest element, and swiftest
motion of the brain,” “the essence of thoughts” that “encircles all things.” They saw in it genius—transcendent, inscrutable, unattainable by reason—as opposed to mere learning, a “grace beyond the reach of art,” a “radiant spark of
heavenly fire,” the furor poeticus pure and simple. Like a “power divine,” which could be defined only negatively, wit was deemed the mysterious core of poetry. The critics of poetry founded on wit, on the other hand, condemned it as unwarrantably
elitist. They read in it nothing but verbal ingenuity, emptiness wrapped in extravagant language, in ingenious metaphors, puns and paradoxes, in virtuosic turns of phrase, in epigrams, and replete with alliterations, anagrams, and acrostics: “nothing
but the froth and ferment of the soul, beclouding reason and sinking rational pursuits into the miasma of fantasy,” an art “which pleased by confounding truth and deceiving men.” Florid, whimsical, and flamboyant, facetious and frivolous, smacking
of airy sophistication and the desire to surprise and startle, in constant search of mystical resemblance, all “wit-writing” became suspect and was subjected to criticism as a likely enemy to all goodness and decency, let alone to true poetry. Such
writing was said to disperse rather than comprehend. It profaned, it vulgarized, it thrived on obscenity. It produced false pleasure. It was excessive and lame, its only purpose being to amuse. It condescended, and those who practiced it wrote, as Samuel
Johnson would later put it, “rather as beholders than partakers of human nature; as beings looking upon good and evil, impassive and at leisure; as Epicurean deities, making remarks on the actions of men, and the vicissitudes of life, without interest
and without emotion.” This was clearly then, in the eyes of the rebellious city, not merely a war between two aesthetic conceptions, debating, say, the relationship between style and subject-matter, or art and morality, but more generally a war between
ideas and mere words, between argument and elocution, reason and mystification, sense and nonsense, learning and mere posturing. Involving most of the leading literary figures of the time, and narrated famously by Daniel Defoe as a mockheroic account of
a battle between Britannia’s warlike sons (“The Men of Sense against the Men of Wit, eternal Fighting must determine it…”), the rebellion of City against wit was seen by its protagonists as a necessary part of a wider moral reform and a defense
of traditional English virtue undermined by aristocratic immodesty and dissoluteness. The divide between the poetic sense and wit was so deeply felt to be a symptom of a wider social divide and part of a profound change in the sensibilities of English
society itself, that Defoe could, in the end, reduce its meaning quite simply to two alternative ways of ruling Britain (“Wit is a king without a Parliament, and sense a democratic government”), with one commentator calling it an outright war “
between Cheapside and Covent Garden, between City and Court, between bourgeoisie and aristocracy.” This was the culmination of a long literary controversy, which at its core was fought over the sort of individual that was to stand at the center of
English literature, not only as its subject, but as its generative principle, a principle of taste, an ideal, and a measure of right tone. More importantly, it was the ground upon which a much larger battle was being fought between different conceptions
of what it meant to be an individual in the course of the seventeenth century. The struggle was over the sort of individual that ought to be the generative principle of not only the English society, but of any human society in general.
This struggle is the object of our present concern.

This struggle is the object of our present concern.

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)

On Tuesday, February 8, 2022 at 3:20:23 PM UTC-8, Dennis wrote:

I have had the good fortune to find an essay that collects in one place many of the words and concepts I have been exploring – ideas that may explain why the Earl of Oxford chose to divorce his name from that of his intellectual heir Shake-speare.

The ‘culture wars’ of the Elizabethan court and city of London appear to have been fought just as vigorously in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries as in later periods although the conflict appears to have been mostly covert. Ben
Jonson, who established many of the terms that figure in this more general and sustained Poets’ War, aggressively positioned himself a court critic and an arbiter of literary manners and mores – and as a figure who could mediate between city and
court with a neoclassical program of rules and literary laws derived from his studies. In Cynthia’s Revels and the figure of Amorphus, the Deformed [Oxford], Jonson makes his most sustained attack on courtly foibles and trifles in an attempt to reform
the manners of the court and to lower the tension between court and city following the Essex Rebellion. The rising of Essex and in particular his effort to solicit the aid of the City of London in his attempt to overturn the corruptions of the court
would have put courtly makers such as the Earl of Oxford in the position of being an intolerable political liability. Poetic styles and courtly manners were often regarded as reliable indicators of ethics and temperaments; and the mysterious beauties of
wit and fancy – the ineffable je-dne-sais-quois of aristocratic identity – became indefensible in the harsh realities of a destabilized reign.

As the loyal turtle dove forever immolates himself on the nest of the Phoenix in Chester’s ‘Love’s Martyr’ – in my mind’s eye - Oxford withdraws himself from the factional fray and any suggestion that his manners and forms may have brought

shame or instability to his Queen and her court.

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

O lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me that you should love
After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceasèd I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart.
O lest your true love may seem false in this,
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
  For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,
  And so should you, to love things nothing worth.

*******************************
Melville – Captain Edward Fairfax Vere and the Sacrifice of Billy Budd/Beauty during a period of political crisis

*******************************
The Making of the Subject of the Leviathan By Miloš Petrović

(...)Only that [English Literature] which is capable of registering even the slightest social wobble could make sense of—and communicate—changes in something so elusive as one’s conception and experience of oneself. That is why literature, with

its deep layers of significance, is particularly suited to our analysis. More than the works of Hobbes or Locke, it is the plays and poetry of England that could grasp the subtlety of the important changes that were by the turn of the eighteenth century [
seventeenth for Oxford/Court/Wit and Jonson/City/Sense] becoming as much proper to man’s inner life as they were to his dealings with others. What literature seemed to have registered this time around was, in fact, so dramatic that it would transform
English literature itself, its codes and canons, as well as the social map of the land. This refers, most immediately, to those great disputes in England—the early eighteenth century culture wars—which were fought, among other things, at least on the
surface of it, over the question of the essential element in a successful literary creation. Already in full sway by the end of the seventeenth century, these disputes involved the rebellious city of London on the one hand, which sought to define the
essence of poetry in terms of “sense” (judgment, intellect, mind), and those grouped around the royal court on the other, who defended the older definition of poetry as essentially an expression of “wit” (fancy, imagination, or taste). The latter
praised wit as “a capacity for wide-ranging speculation that soars above man’s necessities and desires… a flame and agitation of soul that little minds and men of action cannot comprehend.” They deemed it “the purest element, and swiftest
motion of the brain,” “the essence of thoughts” that “encircles all things.” They saw in it genius—transcendent, inscrutable, unattainable by reason—as opposed to mere learning, a “grace beyond the reach of art,” a “radiant spark of
heavenly fire,” the furor poeticus pure and simple. Like a “power divine,” which could be defined only negatively, wit was deemed the mysterious core of poetry. The critics of poetry founded on wit, on the other hand, condemned it as unwarrantably
elitist. They read in it nothing but verbal ingenuity, emptiness wrapped in extravagant language, in ingenious metaphors, puns and paradoxes, in virtuosic turns of phrase, in epigrams, and replete with alliterations, anagrams, and acrostics: “nothing
but the froth and ferment of the soul, beclouding reason and sinking rational pursuits into the miasma of fantasy,” an art “which pleased by confounding truth and deceiving men.” Florid, whimsical, and flamboyant, facetious and frivolous, smacking
of airy sophistication and the desire to surprise and startle, in constant search of mystical resemblance, all “wit-writing” became suspect and was subjected to criticism as a likely enemy to all goodness and decency, let alone to true poetry. Such
writing was said to disperse rather than comprehend. It profaned, it vulgarized, it thrived on obscenity. It produced false pleasure. It was excessive and lame, its only purpose being to amuse. It condescended, and those who practiced it wrote, as Samuel
Johnson would later put it, “rather as beholders than partakers of human nature; as beings looking upon good and evil, impassive and at leisure; as Epicurean deities, making remarks on the actions of men, and the vicissitudes of life, without interest
and without emotion.” This was clearly then, in the eyes of the rebellious city, not merely a war between two aesthetic conceptions, debating, say, the relationship between style and subject-matter, or art and morality, but more generally a war between
ideas and mere words, between argument and elocution, reason and mystification, sense and nonsense, learning and mere posturing. Involving most of the leading literary figures of the time, and narrated famously by Daniel Defoe as a mockheroic account of
a battle between Britannia’s warlike sons (“The Men of Sense against the Men of Wit, eternal Fighting must determine it…”), the rebellion of City against wit was seen by its protagonists as a necessary part of a wider moral reform and a defense
of traditional English virtue undermined by aristocratic immodesty and dissoluteness. The divide between the poetic sense and wit was so deeply felt to be a symptom of a wider social divide and part of a profound change in the sensibilities of English
society itself, that Defoe could, in the end, reduce its meaning quite simply to two alternative ways of ruling Britain (“Wit is a king without a Parliament, and sense a democratic government”), with one commentator calling it an outright war “
between Cheapside and Covent Garden, between City and Court, between bourgeoisie and aristocracy.” This was the culmination of a long literary controversy, which at its core was fought over the sort of individual that was to stand at the center of
English literature, not only as its subject, but as its generative principle, a principle of taste, an ideal, and a measure of right tone. More importantly, it was the ground upon which a much larger battle was being fought between different conceptions
of what it meant to be an individual in the course of the seventeenth century. The struggle was over the sort of individual that ought to be the generative principle of not only the English society, but of any human society in general.

This struggle is the object of our present concern.

This struggle is the object of our present concern.

Men of Wit/Fancy - Men of Sense/Judgement:

****************************
In a copy of the First Folio now at the Folger Shakespeare Library, the following poem is written in a hybrid secretary-italic hand from the 1620s:

Heere Shakespeare lyes whome none but Death could Shake

and heere shall ly till JUDGEMENT all awake;

when the last trumpet doth unclose his eyes

the WITTIEST poet in the world shall rise.

***************************
Webbe:
I may not omit the deserved commendations of many honorabl and noble Lords, and Gentlemen, in her Majesty's Court, which in the *rare devices* of Poetry, have been and yet are most excellent skilful, among whom, the right honorable Earle of Oxford may
challenge to himself the title of the most excellent among the rest.

***************************
Puttenham:
That for Tragedy, the Lord of Buckhurst, and Master Edward Ferrys for such doings as I have seen of theirs do deserve the highest price: Th'Earl of Oxford and Master Edwardes of her Majesty's Chapel *for Comedy and Interlude*.

**************************
Meres:
The best Poets for Comedy among the Greeks are these, Menander, Aristophanes, Eupolis Atheniensis, Alexis Terius, Nocostratus, Amipsias Atheniensis, Anaxandrides Rhodius, Aristonymus, Archippus Atheniensis and Callias Atheniensis; and among the Latins,
Plautus, Terence, Naeuius, Sext. Turpilius, Licinius Imbrex, and Virgilius Romanus: *so the best for comedy amongst us bee, Edward Earle of Oxenforde*, Doctor Gager of Oxforde, Maister Rowley once a rare Scholar of learned Pembroke Hall in Cambridge,
Maister Edwardes one of her Majesty's Chapel, eloquent and witty John Lilly, Lodge, Gascoyne, Greene, Shakespeare, Thomas Nash, Thomas Heywood, Anthony Munday our best plotter, Chapman, Porter, Wilson, Hathway, and Henry Chettle.

**************************
Blackmore
AN ESSAY UPON WIT.

The Inclinations of Men, in this their degenerate State, carry them with great Force to those voluptuous Objects, that please their Appetites and gratify their Senses; and which not only by their early Acquaintance and Familiarity, but as they are
adapted to the prevailing Instincts of Nature, are more esteem'd and pursu'd than all other Satisfactions. As those inferior Enjoyments, that only affect the Organs of the Body are chiefly coveted, so next to these, that light and facetious Qualification
of the Mind, that diverts the Hearers and is proper to produce Mirth and Alacrity, has, in all Ages, by the greatest Part of Mankind, been admir'd and applauded. No Productions of Human Understanding are receiv'd with such a general Pleasure and
Approbation, as those that abound with Wit and Humour, on which the People set a greater Value, than on the wisest and most instructive Discourses. Hence a pleasant Man is always caress'd above a wise one, and Ridicule and Satyr, that entertain the
Laughers, often put solid Reason and useful Science out of Countenance. The wanton Temper of the Nation has been gratify'd so long with the high Seasonings of Wit and Raillery in Writing and Conversation, that now almost all Things that are not
accommodated to their Relish by a strong Infusion of those Ingredients, are rejected as the heavy and insipid Performances of Men of a plain Understanding and meer Masters of Sense.
Since the Power of Wit is so prevalent, and has obtained such Esteem and Popularity, that a Man endow'd with this agreeable Quality, is by many look'd on as a Heavenly Being, if compar'd with others, who have nothing but Learning and a clear arguing Head;
it will be worth the while to search into its Nature, and examine its Usefulness, and take a View of those fatal Effects which it produces, when it happens to be misapply'd.
Tho perhaps the Talent which we call Wit, like that of Humour, is as clearly understood by its simple Term, as by the most labour'd Description; an Argument or which is this, That many ingenious Persons, by their unsuccessful Essays to explain it, have
rather obscur'd than illustrated its Idea; I will notwithstanding adventure to give the Definition of it, which tho it may fall short of Perfection, yet I imagine, will come nearer to it, than any that has yet appear'd. Wit is a Qualification of the Mind,
that raises and enlivens cold Sentiments and plain Propositions, by giving them an elegant and surprizing Turn.
It is evident, that Wit cannot essentially consist in the Justness and Propriety of the Thoughts, that is, the Conformity of our Conceptions to the Objects we conceive; for this is the Definition of Truth, when taken in a Physical Sense; nor in the
Purity of Words and Expression, for this may be eminent in the Cold, Didactick Stile, and in the correct Writers of History and Philosophy: But Wit is that which imparts Spirit to our Conceptions and Diction, by giving them a lively and novel, and
therefore an agreeable Form: And thus its Nature is limited and diversify'd from all other intellectual Endowments. Wit therefore is the Accomplishment of a warm, sprightly, and fertile Imagination, enrich'd with great Variety of proper Ideas; which
active Principle is however under the Direction of a regular Judgment, that takes care of the Choice of just and suitable Materials, prescribes to the tighter Faculties the due Bounds of their Sport and Activity, and assists and guides them, while they
imprint on the Conceptions of the Mind their peculiar and delightful Figures. The Addition of Wit to proper Subjects, is like the artful Improvement of the Cook, who by his exquisite Sauce gives to a plain Dish, a pleasant and unusual Relish. A Man of
this Character works on simple Proportions a rich Embroidery of Flowers and Figures, and imitates the curious Artist, who studs and inlays his prepar'd Steel with Devices of Gold and Silver. But Wit is not only the Improvement of a plain Piece by
intellectual Enameling; besides this, it animates and warms a cold Sentiment, and makes it glow with Life and Vigor; and this it effects, as is express'd in the last Part of the Definition, by giving it as elegant and surprizing Turn. It always conveys
the Thought of the Speaker or Writer cloath'd in a pleasing, but foreign Dress, in which it never appear'd to the Hearer before, who however had been long acquainted with it; and this Appearance in the Habit of a Stranger must be admirable, since
Surprize naturally arises from Novelty, as Delight and Wonder result from Surprize; which I have more fully explain'd in the former Essay.
As to its efficient Cause; Wit owes its Production to an extraordinary and peculiar Temperament in the Constitution of the Possessors of it, in which is found a Concurrence of regular and exalted Ferments, and an Affluence of Animal Spirits refin'd and
rectify'd to a great degree of Purity; whence being endow'd with Vivacity, Brightness and Celerity, as well in their Reflexions as direct Motions, they become proper Instruments for the sprightly Operations of the Mind; by which means the Imagination can
with great Facility range, the wide Field of Nature, contemplate an infinite Variety of Objects, and by observing the Similitude and Disagreement of their several Qualities, single out and abstract, and then suit and unite those Ideas, which will best
serve its purpose. Hence beautiful Allusions, surprizing Metaphors and admirable Sentiments are always ready at hand: And while the Fancy is full of Images collected from innumerable Objects and their different Qualities, Relations and Habitudes, it can
at pleasure dress a common Notion in a strange, but becoming Garb; by which, as before observ'd, the same Thought will appear a new one, to the great Delight and Wonder of the Hearer. What we call Genius results from this particular happy Complexion in
the first Formation of the Person that enjoys it, and is Nature's Gift, but diversify'd by various specifick Characters and Limitations, as its active Fire is blended and allay'd by different Proportions of Phlegm, or reduc'd and regulated by the
Contrast of opposite Ferments. Therefore as there happens in the Composition of a facetious Genius a greater or less, tho still an inferior degree of Judgment and Prudence, and different Kinds of Instincts and Passions, one Man of Wit will be vary'd and
distinguish'd from another. That Distinction that seems common to Persons of this Denomination, is an inferior Degree of Wisdom and Discretion; and tho these two Qualities, Wit and Discretion, are almost incapable of a friendly Agreement, and will not,
but with great Difficulty, be work'd together and incorporated in the Constitution of any Individual; yet this Observation is not so conspicuous in any, as in those, whose native Complexion comes the nearest to a Subversion and Absence of Mind, tho it
should never degenerate into that distemper'd Elevation of the Spirits: Nothing is more common, than to see Persons of this Class always Think Right, and always Act Wrong; admirable for the richness, delicacy, and brightness of their Imaginations, and at
the same Time to be pity'd for their want of Prudence and common Sense; abounding with excellent Maxims and instructive Sentiments, which however are not of the least Use to themselves in the Conduct of their Lives. And hence it is certain, that tho the
Gentlemen of a pleasant and witty Turn of Mind often make the industrious Merchant, and grave Persons of all Professions, the Subjects of their Raillery, and expose them as stupid Creatures, not supportable in good Company; yet these in their Turn
believe they have as great a right, as indeed they have, to reproach the others for want of Industry, good Sense, and regular Oeconomy, much more valuable Talents than those, which any mere Wit can boast of; and therefore wise Parents, who from a tender
Concern for the Honour and Happiness of their Children, earnestly desire they may excel in intellectual Endowments, should, instead of refin'd Parts and a Genius turn'd for pleasant Conversation, wish them a solid Understanding and a Faculty of close and
clear Reasoning, these Qualifications being likely to make them good Men, and the other only good Companions.
And this leads to another Observation, namely, That Persons of facetious Talents and agreeable Humour, in whose Temperament, Judgment, and Discretion, as before observ'd, are usually found in a disproportionate Measure, are more inclin'd than others to
Levity and dissolute Manners: The same swiftness of Thought and sprightliness of Imagination, that qualifies them for ingenious Conversation, Sports of Fancy and Comick Writing, do likewise give them an exquisite Taste of sensual Pleasures, and expose
them to the prevailing Power of Tempting, tho forbidden Enjoyments. The Passions and Appetites of these Men, from the same Spring from whence they derive their extraordinary Parts, that is, a Redundancy of warm and lively Spirits, are more violent and
impatient of Restraint, than those in a cooler and less active Complexion, who however may be more eminent in the superior Faculties of the Mind: Hence it will be no wonder, that while their Propensions to Pleasure are much stronger, and their Reason
much weaker than those of other Men, they should be less able than others, to resist the Allurements of criminal Delights; and this Remark is confirm'd by daily Experience. How few of this facetious and comick Species of Men, caress'd and applauded for
their shining Parts and witty Discourses, escape the Snares that encompass them, and preserve their Vertue and Sobriety of Manners? It too often happens, that a Man elevated above the rest by his uncommon Genius, is as much distinguish'd by his
extraordinary Immorality: And it would be well if it stop'd here; but by degrees he often grows much worse, by adding Impiety and Profaneness to Looseness of Manners: For being unable, that is, having a moral Impotence of Will to restrain his evil
Propensions and govern his vicious Appetites, and finding his guilty Enjoyments, attended with inward Uneasiness and unavoidable Remorse, and being conscious that his irregular Life is inconsistent with Safety and Happiness in a Future State; to remove
the troublesome Misgivings of his Mind from the Apprehensions of Guilt here, and rid himself of the Fears of Suffering hereafter, he at length disclaims the Belief of a Supream Being and a Future Existence, and with much ado brings over his Judgment to
the side of his Passions: This ingenious Libertine, having too little strength of Reason to subdue his Appetites, and too much Wit to think, that if that be not done, he shall escape at last Divine Punishment, abolishes his Creed for the Quiet of his
Mind, and renounces his God to preserve his Vices.
(snip)

*********************************
Ben Jonson -1630:
"I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare, that in his writing, whatsoever he penned, he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, 'Would he had blotted a thousand,' which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not
told posterity this but for their *ignorance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted*; and to justify mine own candor, for I loved the man, and do honor his memory on this side idolatry as much as any. He was,
indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature; had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, *wherein he flowed with that facility that sometime it was necessary he should be stopped*. 'Sufflaminandus erat,' as Augustus said of Haterius.
His WIT was in his own power; would the RULE of it had been so too. Many times he fell into those things, could not escape laughter, as when he said in the person of Caesar, one speaking to him: 'Caesar, thou dost me wrong.' He replied: 'Caesar did
never wrong but with just cause;' and such like, which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned." "Timber" or "Discoveries"

**********************************
The Pacificator a poem.
Defoe, Daniel,
(snip)

To whom shall we Apply, what Powers Invoke,
To deprecate the near impending stroke?
Ye Gods of Wit and Arts, their Minds inspire
With Thoughts of Peace, from your Pacifick Fire;
Engage some Neighbouring Powers to undertake
To Mediate Peace, for Dear Britannia's sake;
Pity the Mother rifl'd of her Charms,
And make her Sons lay down Intestine Arms.
Preliminary Treaties first begin,
And may short Truce a lasting Peace let in,
Limits to Wits Unbounded Ocean place,
To which it may, and may no farther pass;
Fathom the unknown Depths of sullen Sense,
And Purge it from its Pride, and Insolence,
Your secret Influences interpose,
And make them all dispatch their Plenipo's;
Appoint Parnassus for a Place to meet,
Where all the Potentates of Wit may Treat,
Around the Hill let Troops of Muses stand,
To keep the Peace, and Guard the Sacred Land;
There let the high Pretensions be discuss'd,
And Heaven the fatal Differences adjust.
Let either side abate of their Demands,
And both submit to Reason's high Commands,
For which way ere the Conquest shall encline,
The loss Britannia will at last be thine.
Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to Reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extreme of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extreme of both▪
Abstracted-wit 'tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense like Water is but Wit condense,
And Wit like Air is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen, stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is apoplectick, thin, and light:
*Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:*
Wit, like the French, where e'r it reigns Destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D—l.
Wit is a Standing Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P—t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A—.
Wit, like the French, Performs before it Thinks,
And Thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks:
Sense without Wit is flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is cholerick and red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the Jangling Chimes, Rings all in One,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not Fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head

Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts Conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them worth.
Vnited: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their Mutual Ruin end.
Listen, ye Powers, to Lost Britannia's Prayer,
And either side to yielding Terms Prepare;
And if their Cases long Debates admit,
As how much Condescention shall be fit,
How far Wits Jurisdiction shall extend,
And where the stated Bounds of Sense shall end,
Let them to some known Head that strife submit,
Some Judge Infallible, some Pope in Wit,
His Triple Seat place on Parnassus Hill,
And from his Sentence suffer no Appeal:
Let the Great Balance in his Censure be,
And of the Treaty make him Guarantee,
Let him be the Director of the State,
And what he says, let both sides take for Fate:
Apollo's Pastoral Charge to him commit,
And make him Grand Inquisitor of Wit,
Let him to each his proper Talent show,
And tell them what they can, or cannot do,
That each may chuse the Part he can do well,
And let the Strife be only to Excel:

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: fsxNet Usenet Gateway (21:1/5)

On Sunday, February 13, 2022 at 4:28:14 PM UTC-8, Dennis wrote:

On Tuesday, February 8, 2022 at 3:20:23 PM UTC-8, Dennis wrote:

I have had the good fortune to find an essay that collects in one place many of the words and concepts I have been exploring – ideas that may explain why the Earl of Oxford chose to divorce his name from that of his intellectual heir Shake-speare.

The ‘culture wars’ of the Elizabethan court and city of London appear to have been fought just as vigorously in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries as in later periods although the conflict appears to have been mostly covert. Ben
Jonson, who established many of the terms that figure in this more general and sustained Poets’ War, aggressively positioned himself a court critic and an arbiter of literary manners and mores – and as a figure who could mediate between city and
court with a neoclassical program of rules and literary laws derived from his studies. In Cynthia’s Revels and the figure of Amorphus, the Deformed [Oxford], Jonson makes his most sustained attack on courtly foibles and trifles in an attempt to reform
the manners of the court and to lower the tension between court and city following the Essex Rebellion. The rising of Essex and in particular his effort to solicit the aid of the City of London in his attempt to overturn the corruptions of the court
would have put courtly makers such as the Earl of Oxford in the position of being an intolerable political liability. Poetic styles and courtly manners were often regarded as reliable indicators of ethics and temperaments; and the mysterious beauties of
wit and fancy – the ineffable je-dne-sais-quois of aristocratic identity – became indefensible in the harsh realities of a destabilized reign.

As the loyal turtle dove forever immolates himself on the nest of the Phoenix in Chester’s ‘Love’s Martyr’ – in my mind’s eye - Oxford withdraws himself from the factional fray and any suggestion that his manners and forms may have

brought shame or instability to his Queen and her court.

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

O lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me that you should love
After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceasèd I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart.
O lest your true love may seem false in this,
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
  For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,
  And so should you, to love things nothing worth.

*******************************
Melville – Captain Edward Fairfax Vere and the Sacrifice of Billy Budd/Beauty during a period of political crisis

*******************************
The Making of the Subject of the Leviathan By Miloš Petrović

(...)Only that [English Literature] which is capable of registering even the slightest social wobble could make sense of—and communicate—changes in something so elusive as one’s conception and experience of oneself. That is why literature, with

its deep layers of significance, is particularly suited to our analysis. More than the works of Hobbes or Locke, it is the plays and poetry of England that could grasp the subtlety of the important changes that were by the turn of the eighteenth century [
seventeenth for Oxford/Court/Wit and Jonson/City/Sense] becoming as much proper to man’s inner life as they were to his dealings with others. What literature seemed to have registered this time around was, in fact, so dramatic that it would transform
English literature itself, its codes and canons, as well as the social map of the land. This refers, most immediately, to those great disputes in England—the early eighteenth century culture wars—which were fought, among other things, at least on the
surface of it, over the question of the essential element in a successful literary creation. Already in full sway by the end of the seventeenth century, these disputes involved the rebellious city of London on the one hand, which sought to define the
essence of poetry in terms of “sense” (judgment, intellect, mind), and those grouped around the royal court on the other, who defended the older definition of poetry as essentially an expression of “wit” (fancy, imagination, or taste). The latter
praised wit as “a capacity for wide-ranging speculation that soars above man’s necessities and desires… a flame and agitation of soul that little minds and men of action cannot comprehend.” They deemed it “the purest element, and swiftest
motion of the brain,” “the essence of thoughts” that “encircles all things.” They saw in it genius—transcendent, inscrutable, unattainable by reason—as opposed to mere learning, a “grace beyond the reach of art,” a “radiant spark of
heavenly fire,” the furor poeticus pure and simple. Like a “power divine,” which could be defined only negatively, wit was deemed the mysterious core of poetry. The critics of poetry founded on wit, on the other hand, condemned it as unwarrantably
elitist. They read in it nothing but verbal ingenuity, emptiness wrapped in extravagant language, in ingenious metaphors, puns and paradoxes, in virtuosic turns of phrase, in epigrams, and replete with alliterations, anagrams, and acrostics: “nothing
but the froth and ferment of the soul, beclouding reason and sinking rational pursuits into the miasma of fantasy,” an art “which pleased by confounding truth and deceiving men.” Florid, whimsical, and flamboyant, facetious and frivolous, smacking
of airy sophistication and the desire to surprise and startle, in constant search of mystical resemblance, all “wit-writing” became suspect and was subjected to criticism as a likely enemy to all goodness and decency, let alone to true poetry. Such
writing was said to disperse rather than comprehend. It profaned, it vulgarized, it thrived on obscenity. It produced false pleasure. It was excessive and lame, its only purpose being to amuse. It condescended, and those who practiced it wrote, as Samuel
Johnson would later put it, “rather as beholders than partakers of human nature; as beings looking upon good and evil, impassive and at leisure; as Epicurean deities, making remarks on the actions of men, and the vicissitudes of life, without interest
and without emotion.” This was clearly then, in the eyes of the rebellious city, not merely a war between two aesthetic conceptions, debating, say, the relationship between style and subject-matter, or art and morality, but more generally a war between
ideas and mere words, between argument and elocution, reason and mystification, sense and nonsense, learning and mere posturing. Involving most of the leading literary figures of the time, and narrated famously by Daniel Defoe as a mockheroic account of
a battle between Britannia’s warlike sons (“The Men of Sense against the Men of Wit, eternal Fighting must determine it…”), the rebellion of City against wit was seen by its protagonists as a necessary part of a wider moral reform and a defense
of traditional English virtue undermined by aristocratic immodesty and dissoluteness. The divide between the poetic sense and wit was so deeply felt to be a symptom of a wider social divide and part of a profound change in the sensibilities of English
society itself, that Defoe could, in the end, reduce its meaning quite simply to two alternative ways of ruling Britain (“Wit is a king without a Parliament, and sense a democratic government”), with one commentator calling it an outright war “
between Cheapside and Covent Garden, between City and Court, between bourgeoisie and aristocracy.” This was the culmination of a long literary controversy, which at its core was fought over the sort of individual that was to stand at the center of
English literature, not only as its subject, but as its generative principle, a principle of taste, an ideal, and a measure of right tone. More importantly, it was the ground upon which a much larger battle was being fought between different conceptions
of what it meant to be an individual in the course of the seventeenth century. The struggle was over the sort of individual that ought to be the generative principle of not only the English society, but of any human society in general.

This struggle is the object of our present concern.

This struggle is the object of our present concern.

Men of Wit/Fancy - Men of Sense/Judgement:

****************************
In a copy of the First Folio now at the Folger Shakespeare Library, the following poem is written in a hybrid secretary-italic hand from the 1620s:

Heere Shakespeare lyes whome none but Death could Shake

and heere shall ly till JUDGEMENT all awake;

when the last trumpet doth unclose his eyes

the WITTIEST poet in the world shall rise.

***************************
Webbe:
I may not omit the deserved commendations of many honorabl and noble Lords, and Gentlemen, in her Majesty's Court, which in the *rare devices* of Poetry, have been and yet are most excellent skilful, among whom, the right honorable Earle of Oxford may

challenge to himself the title of the most excellent among the rest.

***************************
Puttenham:
That for Tragedy, the Lord of Buckhurst, and Master Edward Ferrys for such doings as I have seen of theirs do deserve the highest price: Th'Earl of Oxford and Master Edwardes of her Majesty's Chapel *for Comedy and Interlude*.

**************************
Meres:
The best Poets for Comedy among the Greeks are these, Menander, Aristophanes, Eupolis Atheniensis, Alexis Terius, Nocostratus, Amipsias Atheniensis, Anaxandrides Rhodius, Aristonymus, Archippus Atheniensis and Callias Atheniensis; and among the Latins,

Plautus, Terence, Naeuius, Sext. Turpilius, Licinius Imbrex, and Virgilius Romanus: *so the best for comedy amongst us bee, Edward Earle of Oxenforde*, Doctor Gager of Oxforde, Maister Rowley once a rare Scholar of learned Pembroke Hall in Cambridge,
Maister Edwardes one of her Majesty's Chapel, eloquent and witty John Lilly, Lodge, Gascoyne, Greene, Shakespeare, Thomas Nash, Thomas Heywood, Anthony Munday our best plotter, Chapman, Porter, Wilson, Hathway, and Henry Chettle.

**************************
Blackmore
AN ESSAY UPON WIT.

The Inclinations of Men, in this their degenerate State, carry them with great Force to those voluptuous Objects, that please their Appetites and gratify their Senses; and which not only by their early Acquaintance and Familiarity, but as they are

adapted to the prevailing Instincts of Nature, are more esteem'd and pursu'd than all other Satisfactions. As those inferior Enjoyments, that only affect the Organs of the Body are chiefly coveted, so next to these, that light and facetious Qualification
of the Mind, that diverts the Hearers and is proper to produce Mirth and Alacrity, has, in all Ages, by the greatest Part of Mankind, been admir'd and applauded. No Productions of Human Understanding are receiv'd with such a general Pleasure and
Approbation, as those that abound with Wit and Humour, on which the People set a greater Value, than on the wisest and most instructive Discourses. Hence a pleasant Man is always caress'd above a wise one, and Ridicule and Satyr, that entertain the
Laughers, often put solid Reason and useful Science out of Countenance. The wanton Temper of the Nation has been gratify'd so long with the high Seasonings of Wit and Raillery in Writing and Conversation, that now almost all Things that are not
accommodated to their Relish by a strong Infusion of those Ingredients, are rejected as the heavy and insipid Performances of Men of a plain Understanding and meer Masters of Sense.

Since the Power of Wit is so prevalent, and has obtained such Esteem and Popularity, that a Man endow'd with this agreeable Quality, is by many look'd on as a Heavenly Being, if compar'd with others, who have nothing but Learning and a clear arguing

Head; it will be worth the while to search into its Nature, and examine its Usefulness, and take a View of those fatal Effects which it produces, when it happens to be misapply'd.

Tho perhaps the Talent which we call Wit, like that of Humour, is as clearly understood by its simple Term, as by the most labour'd Description; an Argument or which is this, That many ingenious Persons, by their unsuccessful Essays to explain it, have

rather obscur'd than illustrated its Idea; I will notwithstanding adventure to give the Definition of it, which tho it may fall short of Perfection, yet I imagine, will come nearer to it, than any that has yet appear'd. Wit is a Qualification of the Mind,
that raises and enlivens cold Sentiments and plain Propositions, by giving them an elegant and surprizing Turn.

It is evident, that Wit cannot essentially consist in the Justness and Propriety of the Thoughts, that is, the Conformity of our Conceptions to the Objects we conceive; for this is the Definition of Truth, when taken in a Physical Sense; nor in the

Purity of Words and Expression, for this may be eminent in the Cold, Didactick Stile, and in the correct Writers of History and Philosophy: But Wit is that which imparts Spirit to our Conceptions and Diction, by giving them a lively and novel, and
therefore an agreeable Form: And thus its Nature is limited and diversify'd from all other intellectual Endowments. Wit therefore is the Accomplishment of a warm, sprightly, and fertile Imagination, enrich'd with great Variety of proper Ideas; which
active Principle is however under the Direction of a regular Judgment, that takes care of the Choice of just and suitable Materials, prescribes to the tighter Faculties the due Bounds of their Sport and Activity, and assists and guides them, while they
imprint on the Conceptions of the Mind their peculiar and delightful Figures. The Addition of Wit to proper Subjects, is like the artful Improvement of the Cook, who by his exquisite Sauce gives to a plain Dish, a pleasant and unusual Relish. A Man of
this Character works on simple Proportions a rich Embroidery of Flowers and Figures, and imitates the curious Artist, who studs and inlays his prepar'd Steel with Devices of Gold and Silver. But Wit is not only the Improvement of a plain Piece by
intellectual Enameling; besides this, it animates and warms a cold Sentiment, and makes it glow with Life and Vigor; and this it effects, as is express'd in the last Part of the Definition, by giving it as elegant and surprizing Turn. It always conveys
the Thought of the Speaker or Writer cloath'd in a pleasing, but foreign Dress, in which it never appear'd to the Hearer before, who however had been long acquainted with it; and this Appearance in the Habit of a Stranger must be admirable, since
Surprize naturally arises from Novelty, as Delight and Wonder result from Surprize; which I have more fully explain'd in the former Essay.

As to its efficient Cause; Wit owes its Production to an extraordinary and peculiar Temperament in the Constitution of the Possessors of it, in which is found a Concurrence of regular and exalted Ferments, and an Affluence of Animal Spirits refin'd and

rectify'd to a great degree of Purity; whence being endow'd with Vivacity, Brightness and Celerity, as well in their Reflexions as direct Motions, they become proper Instruments for the sprightly Operations of the Mind; by which means the Imagination can
with great Facility range, the wide Field of Nature, contemplate an infinite Variety of Objects, and by observing the Similitude and Disagreement of their several Qualities, single out and abstract, and then suit and unite those Ideas, which will best
serve its purpose. Hence beautiful Allusions, surprizing Metaphors and admirable Sentiments are always ready at hand: And while the Fancy is full of Images collected from innumerable Objects and their different Qualities, Relations and Habitudes, it can
at pleasure dress a common Notion in a strange, but becoming Garb; by which, as before observ'd, the same Thought will appear a new one, to the great Delight and Wonder of the Hearer. What we call Genius results from this particular happy Complexion in
the first Formation of the Person that enjoys it, and is Nature's Gift, but diversify'd by various specifick Characters and Limitations, as its active Fire is blended and allay'd by different Proportions of Phlegm, or reduc'd and regulated by the
Contrast of opposite Ferments. Therefore as there happens in the Composition of a facetious Genius a greater or less, tho still an inferior degree of Judgment and Prudence, and different Kinds of Instincts and Passions, one Man of Wit will be vary'd and
distinguish'd from another. That Distinction that seems common to Persons of this Denomination, is an inferior Degree of Wisdom and Discretion; and tho these two Qualities, Wit and Discretion, are almost incapable of a friendly Agreement, and will not,
but with great Difficulty, be work'd together and incorporated in the Constitution of any Individual; yet this Observation is not so conspicuous in any, as in those, whose native Complexion comes the nearest to a Subversion and Absence of Mind, tho it
should never degenerate into that distemper'd Elevation of the Spirits: Nothing is more common, than to see Persons of this Class always Think Right, and always Act Wrong; admirable for the richness, delicacy, and brightness of their Imaginations, and at
the same Time to be pity'd for their want of Prudence and common Sense; abounding with excellent Maxims and instructive Sentiments, which however are not of the least Use to themselves in the Conduct of their Lives. And hence it is certain, that tho the
Gentlemen of a pleasant and witty Turn of Mind often make the industrious Merchant, and grave Persons of all Professions, the Subjects of their Raillery, and expose them as stupid Creatures, not supportable in good Company; yet these in their Turn
believe they have as great a right, as indeed they have, to reproach the others for want of Industry, good Sense, and regular Oeconomy, much more valuable Talents than those, which any mere Wit can boast of; and therefore wise Parents, who from a tender
Concern for the Honour and Happiness of their Children, earnestly desire they may excel in intellectual Endowments, should, instead of refin'd Parts and a Genius turn'd for pleasant Conversation, wish them a solid Understanding and a Faculty of close and
clear Reasoning, these Qualifications being likely to make them good Men, and the other only good Companions.

And this leads to another Observation, namely, That Persons of facetious Talents and agreeable Humour, in whose Temperament, Judgment, and Discretion, as before observ'd, are usually found in a disproportionate Measure, are more inclin'd than others to

Levity and dissolute Manners: The same swiftness of Thought and sprightliness of Imagination, that qualifies them for ingenious Conversation, Sports of Fancy and Comick Writing, do likewise give them an exquisite Taste of sensual Pleasures, and expose
them to the prevailing Power of Tempting, tho forbidden Enjoyments. The Passions and Appetites of these Men, from the same Spring from whence they derive their extraordinary Parts, that is, a Redundancy of warm and lively Spirits, are more violent and
impatient of Restraint, than those in a cooler and less active Complexion, who however may be more eminent in the superior Faculties of the Mind: Hence it will be no wonder, that while their Propensions to Pleasure are much stronger, and their Reason
much weaker than those of other Men, they should be less able than others, to resist the Allurements of criminal Delights; and this Remark is confirm'd by daily Experience. How few of this facetious and comick Species of Men, caress'd and applauded for
their shining Parts and witty Discourses, escape the Snares that encompass them, and preserve their Vertue and Sobriety of Manners? It too often happens, that a Man elevated above the rest by his uncommon Genius, is as much distinguish'd by his
extraordinary Immorality: And it would be well if it stop'd here; but by degrees he often grows much worse, by adding Impiety and Profaneness to Looseness of Manners: For being unable, that is, having a moral Impotence of Will to restrain his evil
Propensions and govern his vicious Appetites, and finding his guilty Enjoyments, attended with inward Uneasiness and unavoidable Remorse, and being conscious that his irregular Life is inconsistent with Safety and Happiness in a Future State; to remove
the troublesome Misgivings of his Mind from the Apprehensions of Guilt here, and rid himself of the Fears of Suffering hereafter, he at length disclaims the Belief of a Supream Being and a Future Existence, and with much ado brings over his Judgment to
the side of his Passions: This ingenious Libertine, having too little strength of Reason to subdue his Appetites, and too much Wit to think, that if that be not done, he shall escape at last Divine Punishment, abolishes his Creed for the Quiet of his
Mind, and renounces his God to preserve his Vices.

(snip)

*********************************
Ben Jonson -1630:
"I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honor to Shakespeare, that in his writing, whatsoever he penned, he never blotted out a line. My answer hath been, 'Would he had blotted a thousand,' which they thought a malevolent speech. I had

not told posterity this but for their *ignorance, who chose that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted*; and to justify mine own candor, for I loved the man, and do honor his memory on this side idolatry as much as any. He was,
indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature; had an excellent fancy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, *wherein he flowed with that facility that sometime it was necessary he should be stopped*. 'Sufflaminandus erat,' as Augustus said of Haterius.
His WIT was in his own power; would the RULE of it had been so too. Many times he fell into those things, could not escape laughter, as when he said in the person of Caesar, one speaking to him: 'Caesar, thou dost me wrong.' He replied: 'Caesar did
never wrong but with just cause;' and such like, which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned." "Timber" or "Discoveries"

**********************************
The Pacificator a poem.
Defoe, Daniel,
(snip)

To whom shall we Apply, what Powers Invoke,
To deprecate the near impending stroke?
Ye Gods of Wit and Arts, their Minds inspire
With Thoughts of Peace, from your Pacifick Fire;
Engage some Neighbouring Powers to undertake
To Mediate Peace, for Dear Britannia's sake;
Pity the Mother rifl'd of her Charms,
And make her Sons lay down Intestine Arms.
Preliminary Treaties first begin,
And may short Truce a lasting Peace let in,
Limits to Wits Unbounded Ocean place,
To which it may, and may no farther pass;
Fathom the unknown Depths of sullen Sense,
And Purge it from its Pride, and Insolence,
Your secret Influences interpose,
And make them all dispatch their Plenipo's;
Appoint Parnassus for a Place to meet,
Where all the Potentates of Wit may Treat,
Around the Hill let Troops of Muses stand,
To keep the Peace, and Guard the Sacred Land;
There let the high Pretensions be discuss'd,
And Heaven the fatal Differences adjust.
Let either side abate of their Demands,
And both submit to Reason's high Commands,
For which way ere the Conquest shall encline,
The loss Britannia will at last be thine.
Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to Reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extreme of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extreme of both▪
Abstracted-wit 'tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense like Water is but Wit condense,
And Wit like Air is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen, stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is apoplectick, thin, and light:
*Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:*
Wit, like the French, where e'r it reigns Destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D—l.
Wit is a Standing Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P—t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A—.
Wit, like the French, Performs before it Thinks,
And Thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks:
Sense without Wit is flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is cholerick and red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the Jangling Chimes, Rings all in One,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not Fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head

Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts Conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them worth.
Vnited: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their Mutual Ruin end.
Listen, ye Powers, to Lost Britannia's Prayer,
And either side to yielding Terms Prepare;
And if their Cases long Debates admit,
As how much Condescention shall be fit,
How far Wits Jurisdiction shall extend,
And where the stated Bounds of Sense shall end,
Let them to some known Head that strife submit,
Some Judge Infallible, some Pope in Wit,
His Triple Seat place on Parnassus Hill,
And from his Sentence suffer no Appeal:
Let the Great Balance in his Censure be,
And of the Treaty make him Guarantee,
Let him be the Director of the State,
And what he says, let both sides take for Fate:
Apollo's Pastoral Charge to him commit,
And make him Grand Inquisitor of Wit,
Let him to each his proper Talent show,
And tell them what they can, or cannot do,
That each may chuse the Part he can do well,
And let the Strife be only to Excel:

Jonson, Timber/Discoveries
Cens. Scal. in Lil. Germ.—Horace.—To judge of poets is only the faculty of poets; and not of all poets, but the best.  Nemo infeliciùs de poetis judicavit, quàm qui de poetis scripsit. But some will say critics are a kind of tinkers, that make
more faults than they mend ordinarily.  See their diseases and those of grammarians.  It is true, many bodies are the worse for the meddling with; and the multitude of physicians hath destroyed many sound patients with their wrong practice.  But the
office of a true critic or censor is, not to throw by a letter anywhere, or damn an innocent syllable, but lay the words together, and amend them; judge sincerely of the author and his matter, which is the sign of solid and perfect learning in a man. 
Such was Horace, an author of much civility, and (if any one among the heathen can be) the best master both of virtue and wisdom; an excellent and true judge upon cause and reason, not because he thought so, but because he knew so out of use and
experience.
Cato, the grammarian, a defender of Lucilius. 
“Cato grammaticus, Latina syren,
Qui solus legit, et facit poetas.”
Quintilian of the same heresy, but rejected.
Horace, his judgment of Chœrillus defended against Joseph Scaliger.  And of Laberius against Julius. [149d]
But chiefly his opinion of Plautus vindicated against many that are offended, and say it is a hard censure upon the parent of all conceit and sharpness.  And they wish it had not fallen from so great a master and censor in the art, whose bondmen knew
better how to judge of Plautus than any that dare patronise the family of learning in this age; who could not be ignorant of the judgment of the times in which he lived, when poetry and the Latin language were at the height; especially being a man so
conversant and inwardly familiar with the censures of great men that did discourse of these things daily amongst themselves.  Again, a man so gracious and in high favour with the Emperor, as Augustus often called him his witty manling (for the
littleness of his stature), and, if we may trust antiquity, had designed him for a secretary of estate, and invited him to the palace, which he modestly prayed off and refused.
Terence.—Menander.  Horace did so highly esteem Terence’s comedies, as he ascribes the art in comedy to him alone among the Latins, and joins him with Menander.
Now, let us see what may be said for either, to defend Horace’s judgment to posterity and not wholly to condemn Plautus.
The parts of a comedy and tragedy.—The parts of a comedy are the same with a tragedy, and the end is partly the same, for they both delight and teach; the comics are called διδάσκαλοι, of the Greeks no less than the tragics.
Aristotle.—Plato.—Homer.—Nor is the moving of laughter always the end of comedy; that is rather a fowling for the people’s delight, or their fooling.  For, as Aristotle says rightly, the moving of laughter is a fault in comedy, a kind of
turpitude that depraves some part of a man’s nature without a disease.  As a wry face without pain moves laughter, or a deformed vizard, or a rude clown dressed in a lady’s habit and using her actions; we dislike and scorn such representations which
made the ancient philosophers ever think laughter unfitting in a wise man.  And this induced Plato to esteem of Homer as a sacrilegious person, because he presented the gods sometimes laughing.  As also it is divinely said of Aristotle, that to seen
ridiculous is a part of dishonesty, and foolish.
The wit of the old comedy.—So that what either in the words or sense of an author, or in the language or actions of men, is awry or depraved does strangely stir mean affections, and provoke for the most part to laughter.  And therefore it was clear
that all insolent and obscene speeches, jests upon the best men, injuries to particular persons, perverse and sinister sayings (and the rather unexpected) in the old comedy did move laughter, especially where it did imitate any dishonesty, and scurrility
came forth in the place of wit, which, who understands the nature and genius of laughter cannot but perfectly know.
Aristophanes.—Plautus.—Of which Aristophanes affords an ample harvest, having not only outgone Plautus or any other in that kind, but expressed all the moods and figures of what is ridiculous oddly.  In short, as vinegar is not accounted good until
the wine be corrupted, so jests that are true and natural seldom raise laughter with the beast the multitude.  They love nothing that is right and proper.  The farther it runs from reason or possibility with them the better it is.

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