SIDNEY

(OUTLINE HISTORY, §§ 36, 38)

THE KING OF PAPHLAGONIA AND HIS SONS.1 (From Arcadia, Book II.).

It was in the kingdom of Galatia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainly grown to so extreme and foul a storm, that never any winter (I think) brought forth a fouler childe: so that the Princes were even compelled by the hail, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seek some shrouding place, which a certain hollow rock offering unto them, they made it their shield against the tempest's fury. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speech of a couple, who not perceiving them, being hid within that rude canopie, held a strange and pitiful disputation, which made them step out, yet in such sort as they might see unseen. There they perceived an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorly arrayed, extremely weather-beaten; the old man blinde, the young man leading him; and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appear a kinde of nobleness, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard were these of the old man. Wel Leonatus (said hee) since I cannot persuade thee to lead mee to that which should end my grief, and my trouble, let mee now entreat thee to leav me: fear not, my misery cannot bee greater than it is, and nothing doth becom me but misery: fear not the danger of my blinde steps, I cannot fall wors than I am: and do not, I pray thee, do not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchedness: but flie, flie from this region onely worthy of mee. Dear father (answered hee) do not take away from me the only remnant of my happiness: while I have power to do you service, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my son (said hee, and with that he groned, as if sorrow

1 The story, of which the opening is here reproduced, has special interest as the source of the sub-plot of Gloucester and his two sons in Shakespeare's King Lear.

strave to break his heart) how evill fits it mee to have such a son, and how much doth thy kindness upbraid my wickedness? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well showing they had not been born to the fortune they were in) moved the Princes to go out unto them, and ask the younger what they were? Sirs (answered hee with a good grace, and made the more agreeable by a certain noble kinde of piteousness) I see well you are strangers, that know not our miserie, so well here known, that no man dare know, but that wee must bee miserable. Indeed, our state as such, as though nothing is so needfull unto us as pitie, yet nothing is more dangerous unto us, than to make our selvs so known as may stir pitie: but your presence promiseth that crueltie shall not overrun hate: and if it did, in truth our state is sunk below the degree of fear.

This old man (whom I lead) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted ungratefulness of a son of his, deprived not onely of his kingdom (whereof no forrain forces were ever able to spoil him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature grants to the poorest creatures: whereby, and by other his unnatural dealings, hee hath been driven to such grief, as even now hee would have had mee to have led him to the top of this rock, thence to cast himself headlong to death: and so would have made mee, who received my life of him, to bee the worker of his destruction. But noble gentlemen, said hee, if either of you have a father, and feel what dutifull affection is engrafted in a son's heart, let mee intreat you to convey this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and security: amongst your worthy acts it shall bee none of the least, that a king of such might and fame, and so unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved.

A SURVEY OF ENGLISH POETRY AND DRAMA

(From An Apologie for Poetrie.)

Chaucer, undoubtedly, did excellently in hys Troylus and Cresseid; of whom truly I know not whether to mervaile more, either that he in that mistie time, could see so

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clearely, or that wee in this cleare age, walke so stumblingly after him. Yet had he great wants, fitte to be forgiven, in so reverent antiquity. I account the Mirrour of Magistrates meetely furnished of beautiful parts; and in the Earle of Surries Liricks many things tasting of a noble birth and worthy of a noble minde. The Sheapheards Kalendar hath much poetrie in his Eglogues: indeed worthy the reading if I be not deceived. That same framing of his stile to an old rustick language, I dare not allow, sith neyther Theocritus in Greeke, Virgill in Latine, nor Sanazar in Italian, did affect it. Besides these, doe I not remember to have seene but fewe (to speake boldely) printed, that have poeticall sinnewes in them: for proofe whereof, let but most of the verses bee put in Prose, and then aske the meaning: and it will be found, that one verse did but beget another, without ordering at the first, what should be at the last: which becomes a confused masse of words, with a tingling sound of ryme, barely accompanied with reason.

Our Tragedies and Comedies (not without cause cried out against) observing rules, neyther of honest civilitie, nor of skilful Poetrie, excepting Gorboduck (againe, I say, of those that I have seen) which notwithstanding, as it is full of stately speeches, and well sounding Phrases, clyming to the height of Seneca his stile, and as full of notable moralitie, which it doth most delightfully teach; and so obtayne the very end of Poesie: yet in troth it is very defectious in the circumstances; which grieveth mee, because it might not remaine as an exact model of all Tragedies. For it is faulty both in place, and time, the two necessary companions of all corporate actions.1 For where the stage should alwaies represent but one place, and the uttermost time presupposed in it, should be, both by Aristotle's precept, and common reason, but one day: there is both many dayes, and many places, inartificially imagined. But if it be so in Gorboduck, how much more in al the rest? where you shall have Asia of the one side, and Affrick of the other, and so many other under-kingdoms, that the Player, when he commeth in, must ever begin with telling us where he is:2 or els, the tale will not be conceived. Now ye shal have three Ladies,

1

Cf. Outline History, §§ 22 and 28. 2 Cf. Outline History, § 35.

walke to gather flowers, and then we must bleeve the stage to be a garden. By and by, we heare newes of shipwracke in the same place, and then wee are to blame, if we accept it not for a Rock. Upon the backe of that, comes out a hideous Monster, with fire and smoke, and then the miserable beholders are bounde to take it for a Cave. While in the mean-time, two Armies flie in, represented with foure swords and bucklers, and then what harde heart will not receive it for a pitched fielde ?

WHAT is truth? said jesting Pilate; and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be that delight in giddiness, and count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be not so much blood in them as was in those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labour which men take in finding out of truth; nor again, that when it is found, it imposeth upon men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favour; but a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. One of the later schools of the Grecians examineth the matter, and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets; nor for advantage, as with the merchant, but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell: this same truth is a naked and open daylight, that doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs of the world, half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day, but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth

best in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves? One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesyvinum dæmonum,' because it filleth the imagination, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt, such as we spake of before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making, or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the sense: the last was the light of reason: and his sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit. First, he breathed light upon the face of the matter, or chaos; then he breathed light into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of his chosen. The poet1 that beautified the sect, that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea: a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the adventure thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth' (a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below:' so always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.

To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowledged even by

Lucretius, who was an adherent of the Epicurean school of Philosophy.