77. Ben Jonson, 1574-1637. (Handbook, pars. 77, 146, 263, 327.)

To the memory of my beloved master, William Shakespeare.
Soul of the age!

The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further off, to make thee room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still, while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read and praise to give.

And though thou had small Latin and less Greek,
From thence to honour thee I will not seek
For names: but call forth thund'ring Eschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles, to us. . . . .

Triumph, my Britain, thou hast one to show
To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.
He was not of an age, but for all time!
And all the muses still were in their prime
When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm
Our ears, or like a Mercury, to charm. . .

...

Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were

To see thee in our water yet appear,

And make those flights upon the banks of Thames,
That did so take Eliza and our James.

To Celia.

I sent thee late a rosie wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope, that there

It could not withered be;

But thou thereon didst onely breathe,

And sent'st it back to me,

Since when it growes, and smells, I sweare,

Not of itselfe but thee.

One of two stanzas. From Songs by PHILOSTRATUS,

To the Holy Trinity.

O Holy, blessed, glorious Trinitie

Of Persons, still one God in unitie,

The faithful man's beleeved mysterie,

Helpe, helpe to lift

Myselfe up to Thee, harrow'd, torne, and bruised

By sinne and Sathan and my flesh misused;
As my heart lies in peeces, all confused,
O take my gift.

All-gracious God, the sinner's sacrifice,

A broken heart thou wert not wont despise;
But, 'bove the fat of rammes and bulls, to prize-
An offering meet

For thy acceptance; O behold me right,
And take compassion on my grievous plight!
What odour can be than a heart contrite

To Thee more sweet?

Eternall Father, God, who didst create
This all of nothing, gav'st it forme and fate,
And breath'd into it life and light, and state
To worship Thee!

Eternalle God, the Sonne, who not denyd'st
To take our nature; becam'st man, and died'st
To pay our debts, upon thy crosse, and cryd'st—
'All's done in me!'

Eternall Spirit, God from both proceeding,

Father and Sonne-the Comforter, inbreeding

Pure thoughts in man; with fiery zeale them feeding For acts of grace!

Increase those acts, O glorious Unitie
Of Persons, still one God in Trinitie;
Till I attain the longed-for mysterie

Of seeing your face.

Beholding One in Three, and Three in One,
A Trinitie to shine in Union;

The gladdest light darke man can thinke upon.
Oh grant it me!

Father and Sonne, and Holy Ghost, you three
All co-eternall in your Majestie

Distinct in Persons, yet in Unitie—

One God to see.

My Maker, Saviour, and my Sanctifier!
To heare, to meditate, sweeten my desire
With grace, and love, with cherishing entire ;
O then how blest!

Among thy saints elected to abide,

And with thy angels placed, side by side,
But in thy presence truly glorified,

Shall I there rest.

The Triumph of Charis.

From The Underwoods.

Have you seen but a bright lillie grow,
Before rude hands have touch'd it?
Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow
Before the soyle hath smutch'd it?

Have you felt the wooll of the bever?
Or swan's downe ever?

Or have smelt of the bud of the brier?
Or the nard on the fire?

Or have tasted the bag of the bee?

O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!

Out of three stanzas. From The Underwoods.

Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.

Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sydney's sister, Pembroke's mother:
Death, ere thou hast slain another,
Learned, and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee!

On the Advancement of Learning.

I have ever observed it to have been the office of a wise patriot, among the greatest affairs of the state to take care of the commonwealth of learning. For schools they are the seminaries of state; and nothing is worthier the study of a statesman, than that part of the republic which we call the advancement of letters.... This made the late Lord St. Albans entitle his work Novum Organum; which though by the most of superficial men, who cannot get beyond the title of nominals, it is not penetrated nor understood, it really sheweth all defects of learning whatsoever. My conceit of his person was never increased toward him by his place or honours: but I have and do reverence him for the greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to me even by his work one of the greatest men and most worthy of admiration that had been in many ages. In his adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for greatness he could not want. Neither could I condole in a word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make it manifest.

Timber; or, Discoveries made upon Men and Matter. Works, p. 749.

Poetry is a speaking picture, and picture a mute poesy. They both invent, feign, and devise many things, and accommodate all they invent to the use and service of nature. Yet of the two, the pen is more noble than the pencil; for that can speak to the understanding; the other but to the sense.

Ib., p. 754.

For a man to write well, there are required three necessaries : to read the best authors, observe the best speakers, and much exercise of his own style.

Ib., p. 756.

Words borrowed of antiquity do lend a kind of majesty to style, and are not without their delight sometimes. For they have the authority of years, and out of their intermission do win themselves a kind of grace-like newness. But the eldest of the present and the newest of the past language is the best.

Ib., p. 758.

The two chief things that give a man reputation in counsel, are the opinion of his honesty, and the opinion of his wisdom.

Ib., p. 742.

There are no fewer forms of mind than of bodies amongst us. The variety is incredible, and therefore we must search. Some are fit to make divines, some poets, some lawyers, some physicians: some to be sent to the plough, and to trades.

Works, p. 747.

78. Richard Sibbes, 1577-1635. (Handbook, par. 382.) Master of Catherine Hall: preacher of Gray's Inn.

Faith sustained by Reason.

'I shall yet praise him.' In these words David expresseth the reasons and grounds of his trust; namely, from the interest he had in God by experience and special covenant: wherein in general we may observe, that those who truly trust in God, labour to back their faith with sound arguments. Faith is an understanding grace; it knows whom it trusts, and for what and upon what ground it trusts. Reason of itself cannot find what it should believe, yet when God hath discovered the same, faith tells us there is great reason to believe it. Faith useth reason, though not as a ground, yet as a sanctified instrument to find out God's grounds, that it may rely upon them. He believes best who knows best why he should believe. Confidence and love and other affections of the soul, though they have no reason grafted in them, yet thus far they are reasonable, as that they are in a wise man raised up, guided, and laid down with reason; or else men were neither to be blamed nor praised for ordering their affections aright; whereas not only civil virtue, but grace itself is especially conversant in ruling the affections by sanctified reason.

The soul guides the will and affections otherwise than it doth the outward members of the body. It sways the affections of confidence, love, joy, as a prince doth his wiser subjects, and as counsellors do a well ordered state, by ministering reasons to them; but the soul governs the outward members by command, as a master doth a slave—his will is enough.... The chief of David's reasons are fetched from God-what he is in himself, and what he is and will be to his children, and what to him in particular. Though godly men have reasons for their trust, yet those reasons be divine and spiritual as faith itself is: for as naturally as beams come from the sun, and branches from the root, even so by divine discourse one truth issueth from another.