And now, that an over-faint quietness should seem
to strew the house [Footnote: pave the way.] for poets, they are almost
in as good reputation as the mountebanks at Venice. Truly even that,
as of the one side it giveth great praise to poesy, which like Venus
(but to better purpose) hath rather be troubled in the net with Mars,
than enjoy the homely quiet of Vulcan: so serves it for a piece of a
reason, why they are less grateful to idle England, which now can
scarce endure the pain of a pen. Upon this necessarily followeth, that
base men with servile wits undertake it: who think it enough, if they
can be rewarded of the printer. And so as Epaminondas is said, with
the honour of his virtue, to have made an office, by his exercising
it, which before was contemptible, to become highly respected: so
these, no more but setting their names to it, by their own
disgracefulness, disgrace the most graceful poesy. For now, as if all
the Muses were got with child, to bring forth bastard poets, without
any commission, they do post over the banks of Helicon, till they make
the readers more weary than post-horses: while in the mean time, they
_Queis meliore luto finxit procordia Titan_,
are better content, to suppress the outflowing of their wit, than by
publishing them to be accounted knights of the same order.
Pages:
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221