[continued from previous message]

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

Noble Stranger, Lewis Sharpe (1640) – As it was acted at the Private House in Salisbury Court, by her Maiesties Servants. The author, L.S.

To his Friend the Author on his Come∣dy, called the Noble Stranger.

FRiend, from me thou canst not expect a praise,

My Muse can give no Cypres nor no Baies:

She cannot though she would be vile, expresse

One syllable to make thy merits lesse:

Nor can she, had she rob'd the fluent store

Of Donns wise Genius, make thy merits more:

No, 'tis thy owne smooth numbers must preferre

*Thy Stranger to the Globe-like Theatre*.



(SNIP)

Richard Woolfall



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

Noble Stranger, Lewis Sharpe (fl.1640)

Mercutio.

It shall sir— Doe you heare Tom, goe and prepare Flavia for the project, and bring those properties we agreed on.

Plod.

Say no more.

Exit.

Pupillus.

Whither doe you send him?

Mercutio.

To an Antiquaries study; for strange properties to perform the Ceremonies requisite at INSPIRATION: for we must use Invocations, Incantations, Conjurations, Imprecations, and all for the rare effect of Inspiration.

Pupillus.

Blesse me, doe you begin to conjure already?

Fled-Wit.

No, he tells you but what he must doe.

Pup.

But harke you; pray d'ee deale with honest, faire conditi∣oned Devills?

Mer.

O blemish to our sacred Magicke—Devills!

Pup.

O no, pray Sir.



Mercutio.

That thought's enough to ruine all the fabricke of our hopes.

Pupillus.

Good sir, Ile never thinke while I live agen.

Mer.

I tell you sir, we must invoake the Celestiall Deities— We may beginne the Act, none but the bright Minerva can con∣firme it

Pup.

And will she come at your call.

Mer.

Yes, yes, if you performe quietly what we desire.

Pup.

Oh most obedient Goddesse.

Enter Plod with a Boxe, in which are little pieces of paper rold up: A Table set forth.

Mer.

Are you come? 'tis well: Is Flavia ready?

Plod.

Onely waits her Cue

Mer.

Look you sir, you see these papers.

Pup.

I, whence came they; from the Lottery?

Mer.

No sir, they are certaine Collections out of learned and witty Authors, for all humours in an accomplished wit. Now sir, you must eate every one of hem one by one.

Pup.

How, eate 'hem?

Mer.

I ease 'hem, and you shall find they will produce effects as various, as the qualities or conditions out of whom they were collected: now therefore off with your Hat and Cloake, kneele downe with a strong beliefe, imagination, and attention — you two
stand to keepe him in that equall posture I shall set him; so, now first with a Scholastique Inspiration: somewhat of a hard digesti∣on, as—

"Dulcia non meruit qui non gustavit amara.

Pup.

O 'twill never downe, I shall be choakt with it.

Mer.

My life Sir we'll helpe it downe—here—so—feare not, I warrant you—is it downe?

Pup.

Almost—so,

Mer.

How is it sir?

Pup.

O 'twas so sweete at first, and so abhominable bitter at the last—

Mer

Why there you relish the conceit sir: for the interpreta∣tion of it is; Hee deserves not sweete, that has not tasted bitter.

Pup.

I have tasted a bitter one; now pray let the next be a sweet one.

Mer.

According as we see this work: 'thas a present operation—How doe you feele your selfe inclin'd?

Pup.

Oh I cou'd quarrell about the Etymologie of words, fight about Syllables, and Orthography, chop Logique with my Father, Write Tragedies and Comedies by the grosse: and my fingers itch at an Hen-roost.

Mer.

'Thas wrought bravely, the direct symptomes of an University wit: now for the inspiration of a confident Poeticall wit.

Pup.

Pray pick out the hard words, if there be any.

Mer.

There's none in this — you shall heare it.

"This from our Author I was bid to say,

"By Iove 'tis good; and if you lik't you may. [my note – from Ben Jonson’s _Cynthia’s Revels_]



Pupillus.

Ile tell you how I like it presently.

Mer.

Come sir, downe with it—

Fled.

So, this past with ease—

Mer.

How doe you find your selfe affected now?

Pup.

Oh that I were in a Play-house—I wou'd tell the whole Audience of their pittifull, Hereticall, Criticall humours—Let a man, striving to enrich his labours, make himselfe as poore as a broken Citizen, that dares not so much as shew the tips on's
Hornes: yet will these people crye it downe, they know not why: One loves high language, though he understands it not; another whats obscaene, to move the blood, not spleene: a third, whose wit lyes all in his gall, must have a Satyre: a fourth man all
ridiculous: and the fift man not knowing what to have, grounds his opinion on the next man ith' formall Ruffe; and so many heads, so many severall humours; and yet the poor Poet must find waies to please 'hem all.

Mer.

It workes strangely.

Pup.

But when they shal come to feed on the Offalls of wit, have nothing for their money but a Drumme, a Fooles Coat, and Gunpowder; see Comedies, more ridiculous than a Morrice dance; and for their Tragedies, about at Cudgells were a brave Battalia to 'hem:
Oh Phoebus, Phoebus, what will this world come to?

Mer.

'Fore Iove, it has wrought most strangely—Tis well here we're none but friends—how doe you sir?



Pup.

Ah! pretty, pretty, sure I have talked extravagantly, Gentlemen have I not?

Mer.

I indeed have you; 'tis of a delicate operation: Now sir, you shall have a valiant inspiration to confront your enemy, or rivall in your Mistresses favour—In this paper is the expiring breath of a great warriour, the last words he utter'd.

"—Farewell light,

"Tis fit the world should weare eternall night.



Pup.

Why this will kill me sure.

Mer.

No, hold him fast—tis of a strong operation—So, chew it well, feare nothing—Now it is downe: how is't?

He breakes violently from them.

Pup.

Let me goe, let me goe, the world's too narrow to confine me: Ile mount the skies, snatch Ioves three-fold lightning from his hand, dart it at the World, and reduc't againe to its first desolate Chaos, drye up the Sea with fire of my rage, and puffe mens
soules away.

Mer.

We must change this humour: Ile now beleeve a strong imagination's witch-craft: force downe another; read it first: What is't? hold him fast.

Fled.

"Enter these Armes, and since thou thoughtst it best,

"Not to dreame all my dreame, lets act the rest.

Mer.

A fit one, a wanton lovers rapture: give it him, thrust it downe: So, he begins to yield; how is't.

Pup.

O what have you gi'n me now?

Mer,

Onely to inspire you with a wanton art to winne your Mistris.

Pup.

Tis wonderfull provocative, believe me: sure it came out of Ovids-Ars-Amandi: *oh for the book of Venus and Adonis, to Court my Mistris by: I cou'd dye, I cou'd dye in the Eli-zi-um of her Armes: no sweets to those of Love: O Love, love, thy flames will
burne me up to dust and ashes*.

Mer.

We must quench your flames— Pinch him hard.

Pup.

Oh—

Mer.

Harder yet.

Pup.

Oh—

What doe you doe? what doe you? Alas all's downe againe;

I am as cold as a Cucumber.



Mer

So, I beleeve you are sufficiently prepared:

Now we will invoke the goddesse Minerva— kneele,

Downe with your face to the west: harken with

Attention to what she shall say or request, and be sure to performe it —So, 'tis well.

Pup.

Does she come yet?

Fled.

No, no, he must invoak first.

Mer.

Thou sacred goddesse of Joves brave begot,

walk round about him.

Descend to earth, and here make fast the knot

We humble Mortalls have begunne to tye,

And we'll adore thy glorious Deity.

Pup.

O me, O.

Soft Musick. Enter Flavia drest like Minerva with a Violl of Water.

Fla.

Who calls Minerva from the Starry Court?

Pup.

Oh 'twas he Lady.

Fla.

We know the full effects of your desire,

It is this noble youth with wit t'inspire:

Then downe his throat this sacred drinke compell,

Tis , SALT and water from the MUSES WELL.

Pup.

Paugh.

Fla.

Now let him offer gold to our dispose,

And all's confirm'd with this one pluck by th'nose.



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

‘INSPIRATION’

Cynthia’s Revels, Ben Jonson



Amorphus. That's good, but how Pythagorical?

Phi. I, Amorphus. Why Pythagorical Breeches?

Amor. O most kindly of all, 'tis a CONCEIT of that FORTUNE,

I am bold to hug my Brain for.

Pha. How is't, exquisite Amorphus?

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

so happy. --

Phi. Nay do not rack us thus?

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

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

migration into several shapes.

Mor. Most rare, in sweet troth.



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Oldham, on Jonson

XIII.

Let meaner spirits stoop to low precarious Fame,

Content on gross and coarse Applause to live,

And what the dull, and sensless Rabble give,

Thou didst it still with noble scorn contemn,

Nor would'st that wretched Alms receive,

The poor subsistence of some BANKRUPT, SORDID NAME:

Thine was no EMPTY VAPOR, RAIS’D beneath,

And form'd of common Breath,

The false, and foolish Fire, that's whisk'd about

By popular Air, and glares a while, and then GOES OUT...



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obscenus (Latin)

Origin & history

Uncertain. Usually derived from Proto-Indo-European *ḱʷeyn- ("to soil; mud; filth"). According to Pokorny, cognate with inquin�, caenum, cūni� and whin.

Alternative forms

• obscaenus

Adjective

obscēnus (feminine obscēna, neuter obscēnum)

1. inauspicious, ominous, portentous

2. repulsive, offensive, abominable, hateful, disgusting, filthy

3. immodest, impure, indecent, lewd, obscene



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E P I G R A M S . JONSON

XLIX. — TO PLAYWRIGHT.

PLAYWRIGHT me reads, and still my verses damns,

He says I want the tongue of epigrams ;

I have no SALT, no bawdry he doth mean ;

For witty, in his language, is OBSCENE.

Playwright, I loath to have thy manners known

In my chaste book ; I profess them in thine own.



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William Cartwright:


...Shakespeare to thee was DULL, whose best jest lyes

I'th Ladies questions, and the Fooles replyes;

Old fashion'd wit, which walkt from town to town

In turn'd Hose, which our fathers call'd the CLOWN;

Whose wit our nice times would obsceannesse call,

And which made Bawdry passe for Comicall:

Nature was all his Art, thy veine was FREE

As his, but without his SCURILITY;



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Cartwright, William, Jonsonus Virbius

...Blest life of Authors, unto whom we owe

Those that we have, and those that we want too:

Th'art all so good, that reading makes thee worse,

And to have writ so well's thine onely curse.

Secure then of thy merit, thou didst hate

That servile base dependance upon fate:

Successe thou ne'r thoughtst vertue, nor that fit,

Which chance, and th'ages fashion did make hit;

*Excluding those from life in after-time*,

Who into Po'try first brought luck and rime:

Who thought the peoples breath good ayre: sty'ld name

What was but noise; and getting Briefes for fame

Gathered the many's suffrages, and thence

Made COMMENDATION a BENEVOLENCE:

THY thoughts were their owne Lawrell, and did win

That best applause of being crown'd within..



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Jonson, A Speech according to Horace.


And could (if our great Men would let their Sons

Come to their Schools,) show 'em the use of Guns.

And there instruct the noble English Heirs

In Politick, and Militar Affairs;

But he that should perswade, to have this done

For Education of our Lordings; Soon

Should he hear of Billow, Wind, and Storm,

From the *Tempestuous Grandlings*, who'll inform

Us, in our bearing, that are thus, and thus,

Born, bred, allied? what's he dare tutor us?

Are we by Book-worms to be aw'd? must we

Live by their Scale, that dare do nothing free?

Why are we Rich, or Great, except to show

All licence in our Lives? What need we know?

More then to praise a Dog? or Horse? or speak

The Hawking Language? or our Day to break

With Citizens? let Clowns, and Tradesmen breed

Their Sons to study Arts, the Laws, the Creed:

We will believe like Men of our own Rank,

In so much Land a year, or such a Bank,

That turns us so much Monies, at which rate

Our Ancestors impos'd on Prince and State.

Let poor Nobility be vertuous: We,

Descended in a Rope of Titles, be

From Guy, or Bevis, Arthur, or from whom

The Herald will. Our Blood is now become,

Past any need of Vertue. Let them care,

That in the Cradle of their Gentry are;

To serve the State by Councels, and by Arms:

We neither love the Troubles, nor the harms.

What love you then? your Whore? what study? Gate,

Carriage, and Dressing. There is up of late

The Academy, where the Gallants meet ——

What to make Legs? yes, and to smell most sweet,

All that they do at Plays. O, but first here

They learn and study; and then practise there.

But why are all these Irons i' the Fire

Of several makings? helps, helps, t' attire

His Lordship. That is for his Band, his Hair

This, and that Box his Beauty to repair;

This other for his Eye-brows; hence, away,

I may no longer on these Pictures stay,

These Carkasses of Honour; Taylors blocks,

Cover'd with Tissue, whose prosperity mocks

The fate of things: whilst totter'd Vertue holds

Her broken Arms up, to their EMPTY Moulds.



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His WIT was in his own Power, would the RULE OF IT had been so, too


De Shakspeare nostrat.—Augustus in Hat.—I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, 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 candour, for I loved the man, and do honour his memory
on this side idolatry as much as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature, had an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it was necessary he should be stopped. �
�Sufflaminandus erat,” [47a] 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 Cæsar, one speaking to
him, “Cæsar, thou dost me wrong.” He replied, “Cæsar 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.

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Edward de Vere – Best for comedy



Scurra:



Mirth Making. The Rhetorical Discourse on Jesting in Early Modern England

Chris Holcomb

...Associations between social status and certain forms of jesting appear as early as the Nicomachean Ethics, where Aristotle classifies different modes of jesting according to three social types: the boor, the buffoon, and the witty man of tact.
Aristotle has little to say about boorish men except that they never say "anything funny themselves and take offense at those who do" (4.8.3) Instead, Aristotle dwells on differences between the buffoon and man of wit, and in differentiating these two
social types, he associates indecorous jests with those of the lower-class buffoon and decorous ones with those of a gentleman. 'Those who go to excess in ridicule are thought to be buffoons or VULGAR FELLOWS, who itch to have their joke at all costs,
and are more concerned to raise a laugh than to keep within the bounds of decorum' (4.8.3). The buffoon often jests in a 'servile' and often obscene fashion (4.8.5-6), he 'cannot resist a joke,' he will 'not keep his tongue off himself or anyone else, if
he can raise a laugh,' and he 'will say things which a man of refinement would never say' (4.8.10). Those 'who jest with good taste,' by contrast, will say 'only the sort of things that are suitable to a virtuous man and a gentleman; (4.8.5). They prefer
to jest by way of 'innuendo, which marks a great advance in decorum,' and they will never stoop so low in their jesting as to say anything 'unbecoming to a gentleman' (4.8.6-7). The line Aristotle draws here is not simply one between the indecorous and
decorous; it is also one between the lower and upper classes. And while Aristotle couches his distinctions in more or less descriptive (although elitist) terms, they do have prescriptive force. If a speaker is to show himself as a 'man of refinement,' he
must limit his jesting behaviours and avoid the excesses of the buffoon.


Cicero and Quintilian adopt Aristotle's method of classifying decorous and indecorous jests along class lines, and they both use the buffoon and well-bred man of tact to define forms of jesting befitting an orator (the boor, as often happens in everyday
life, is left out of their discussions of jesting). But they add to the ranks of the buffoon (or SCURRA, in Latin) a cast of characters familiar from the Roman stage, street performances, and entertainments provided at a gentleman's dinner party -
characters including the mime (mimus), pantomime (ethologus), and clown (sannio). Cicero says that 'an orator must avoid each of two dangers: he must not let his jesting become buffoonery or mere mimicking (scurrilis...aut mimicus)' (2.58.239). Like
Aristotle's buffoon, the Latin scurra violates proprieties of time. Cicero says he jests "from morning to night, and without any reason at all" (2.60.245). He also shows no restraint in his selection of objects of ridicule, and his jests, like a
scattergun, will often strike 'unintended victims' (2.60.245). He will even turn himself into an object of ridicule if he thinks he can raise a laugh (Quintilian, 6.3.82). Most important, the scurra is a member of the lower classes, a parasite who would
often perform at a gentleman's dinner party for table scraps, and his antics almost always bespoke his lowly position. For all of these reasons, especially the last, Cicero and Quintilian repeatedly insist that orators avoid all likeness to buffoons, and
toward this end, they offer a set of strictures limiting the jesting practices of orators so that those practices accord with the orator's gentlemanly status. With respect to proprieties of time, Cicero says, "Regard then to occasions, control and
restraint of our actual raillery, and economy in bon-mots, will distinguish an orator from a buffoon (oratorem a scurra)" (2.60.247). As we have seen, orators should also be careful in their selection of comic butts and avoid targeting the excessively
wretched or wicked and the well-beloved. Moreover, they must never turn themselves into objects of laughter for, as Quintilian says, "To make jokes against oneself is scarcely fit for any save professed buffoons and is strongly to be disapproved in an
orator" (6.3.82). Presumable, orators should keep the audience's laughter off themselves and direct it only at their opponents. Above all, the orator should only jest in ways that befit a gentleman or liberalis. He should avoid obscenities in his jesting,
which are 'not only degrading to a pubic speaker, but also hardly sufferable at a gentleman's dinner party (convivio liberorum)' (De oratore, 2.61.252), and 'scurrilous or brutal jests, although they may raise a laugh, are quite unworthy of a gentlman (
liberali)' (Quintilian, 6.3.83). In an allusion to his famous formulation or the orator as a GOOD MAN, or vir bonus, skilled in speaking, Quintilian sums up his attitudes toward buffoonery, a summation that will serve for Cicero's views on the subject as
well: 'A good man (vir bonus) will see that everything he says is consistent with his dignity and the respectability of his character (dignitate ac verecundia); for we pay too dear for the laugh we raise if it is at the cost of our own integrity (
probitatis)' (6.3.35). (Holcomb,pp.39-40)

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Probitas

Latin probitas HONESTY, probity, uprightness.

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

"To My Book" by Ben Jonson


It will be looked for, book, when some but see

Thy title, Epigrams, and named of me,

Thou should'st be bold, licentious, full of gall,

Wormwood, and sulphur, sharp, and toothed withal;

Become a petulant thing, hurl ink, and wit,

As madmen stones: not caring whom they hit.

Deceive their malice, who could wish it so.

And by thy wiser temper, let men know

Thou are not covetous of least self-fame.

Made from the hazard of another's shame:

Much less with lewd, profane, and beastly phrase,

To catch the world's loose laughter, or VAIN gaze.

*He that DEPARTS with his own HONESTY

For VULGAR PRAISE, doth it too dearly buy.*

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

Rhodri Lewis:

...the visionary quality of the furor poeticus was by definition irrational, and easily contaminated by the threat of ‘enthusiasm’; as there was Restoration consensus that the civil wars had been the product of enthusiastic speech and writing, this
contamination was fatal. Consequently, the imitative model of poetics – and with it, translation – came to have a new prestige and cultural importance as an antidote to such anxieties: in CONSTRAINING the poet’s FREEDOM to ERR, it was seen as doing
important meta-literary work, and conferred an intrinsic mutuality on the literary enterprise:

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Constraining/Holding/Ruling Shakespeare's Sublime Quill:



From To the Deceased Author of these Poems (William Cartwright)


by Jasper Mayne



For thou to Nature had'st joyn'd Art, and skill.

In Thee Ben Johnson still HELD SHAKESPEARE'S QUILL:

A QUILL, RUL'D by sharp Judgement, and such Laws,

As a well studied Mind, and Reason draws.

Thy Lamp was cherish'd with suppolied of Oyle,

Fetch'd from the Romane and the Graecian soyle. (snip)

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His WIT was in his own Power, would the RULE OF IT had been so, too – Jonson on Shakespeare's

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Jonson, Timber
On Comedy and Tragedy:
...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 [Greek text], 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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Timber/Discoveries

(In the difference of wits, note 10)



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and MAKE ALL AN EVEN AND PROPORTIONED BODY



http://home.att.net/~tleary/GIFS/DROUS.JPG



The true artificer will

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

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

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

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

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

strutting and furious vociferation to warrant them to the ignorant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

is worse), especially for that it is naught.



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Shakespeare, Show and Seeming:

(seems to shake a lance)





Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to SHOW

To whom all SCENES of Europe homage owe. (scene - painted cloth)

He was not of an age, but for all Time !



--Jonson

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Trophaeum Peccati - On Recorder of Stratford Greville's monument in Warwick



FOLK GREVILL

SERVANT to Queene Elizabeth

Conceller to King James

Frend to Sir Philip Sidney.

TROPHAEUM PECCATI

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Greville, _Dedication_:


...Neither am I (for my part) so much in love with this life, nor believe so little in a better to come, as to complain of God for taking him [Sidney], and such like exorbitant worthyness from us: fit (as it were by an Ostracisme) to be divided, and not
incorporated with our corruptions: yet for the sincere affection I bear to my Prince, and Country, my prayer to God is, that this *Worth*, and Way may not fatally be buried with him; in respect, that both before his time, and since, experience hath
published the usuall discipline of greatnes to have been tender of it self onely; making HONOUR a triumph, or rather TROPHY OF DESIRE, set up in the eyes of Mankind, either to be worshiped as IDOLS, or else as Rebels to perish under her glorious
oppressions. *Notwithstanding, when the pride of flesh, and power of favour shall cease in these by death, or disgrace; what then hath time to register, or fame to publish in these great mens names, that will not be offensive, or infectious to others?
What Pen without blotting can write the story of their deeds? Or what Herald blaze their Arms without a blemish? And as for their counsels and projects, when they come once to light, shall they not live as noysome, and loathsomely above ground, as their
Authors carkasses lie in the grave? So as the return of such greatnes to the world, and themselves, can be but private reproach, publique ill example, and a fatall scorn to the Government they live in. Sir Philip Sidney is none of this number; for the
greatness which he affected was built upon true *Worth*; esteeming Fame more than Riches, and Noble actions far above Nobility it self.

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SONNET 72 - Shakespeare

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 deceased 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 sham'd by that which I bring forth,

And so should you, to love things NOTHING WORTH.

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Greville, __A Dedication to Sir Philip Sidney_



“I conceived an Historian was bound to tell nothing but the truth, but to tell all truths were both justly to wrong, and offend not only princes and States, but to blemish, and stir up himself, the frailty and tenderness, not only of particular men,
but of many Families, with the spirit of an Athenian Timon.”

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Tyrants allow of no scope, stamp, or standard, but their own WILL (Greville):

Infected Will:

Sidney - Neither let it be deemed too bold a comparison to balance the highest point of man's WIT with the efficacy of nature; but rather give right honor to the heavenly maker of that maker, who having made man to his own likeness, set him beyond and
over all the work of that second nature, which in nothing he shows so much as in poetry, when with the force of a divine breath he brings things forth far surpassing her doings, with no small argument to the incredulous of that first accursed fall of
Adam, since our erected WIT makes us know what perfection is, but our INFECTED WILL. keeps us from reaching unto it.

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