Therfore compare we the Poet with the Historian, & with the morall Philosopher: and if hee goe beyond them both, no other humaine skill can match him. For as for the diuine, with all reuerence it is euer to be excepted, not onely for hauing his scope as far beyond any of these, as Eternitie exceedeth a moment: but euen for passing ech of these in themselues. And for the Lawier, though Ius be the daughter of Iustice, the chiefe of vertues, yet because he seeks to make men good, rather formidine poenae, then virtutis amore: or to say righter, doth not endeuor to make men good, but that their euill hurt not others, hauing no care so he be a good citizen, how bad a man he be. Therfore as our wickednes maketh him necessarie, and necessitie maketh him honorable, so is he not in the deepest truth to stand in ranck with these, who al endeuour to take naughtinesse away, and plant goodnesse euen in the secretest cabinet of our soules: and these foure are all that any way deale in the consideration of mens manners, which being the supreme knowledge, they that best breed it, deserue the best commendation. The Philosopher therefore, and the Historian, are they which would win the goale, the one by precept, the other by example: but both, not hauing both, doo both halt. For the Philosopher set- ting downe with thornie arguments, the bare rule, is so hard of vtterance, and so mistie to be conceiued, that one that hath no other guide but him, shall wade in him till he be old, before he shall finde sufficient cause to be honest. For his knowledge standeth so vpon the abstract and generall that happie is that man who may vnderstand him, and more happie, that can apply what he doth vnderstand. On the other side, the Historian wanting the precept, is so tied, not to what should be, but to what is, to the particular truth of things, and not to the general reason of things, that his example draweth no necessarie consequence, and therefore a lesse fruitfull doctrine.

Now doth the peerlesse Poet performe both, for whatsoeuer the Philosopher saith should be done, he giues a perfect picture of it by some one, by whom he presupposeth it was done, so as he coupleth the generall notion with the particuler example. A perfect picture I say, for hee yeeldeth to the powers of the minde an image of that whereof the Philosopher bestoweth but a wordish description, which doth neither strike, pearce, nor possesse, the sight of the soule so much, as that other doth. For as in outward things to a man that had neuer seene an Elephant, or a Rinoceros, who should tell him most exquisitely all their shape, cullour, bignesse, and particuler marks, or of a gorgious pallace an Architecture, who decla- ring the full bewties, might well make the hearer able to repeat as it were by roat all he had heard, yet should neuer satisfie his inward conceit, with being witnesse to it selfe of a true liuely knowledge: but the same man, assoon as he might see those beasts wel painted, or that house wel in modell, shuld straightwaies grow without need of any description to a iudicial comprehending of them, so no doubt the Philosopher with his learned definitions, be it of vertues of vices, matters of publike policy or priuat gouernment, replenisheth the memorie with many infallible grounds of wisdom, which notwithstanding lie darke before the imaginatiue and iudging power, if they be not illuminated or figured forth by the speaking picture of Poesie.

Tully taketh much paines, and many times not without Poeticall helpes to make vs know the force, loue of our country hath in vs. Let vs but heare old Anchices, speaking in the middest of Troies flames, or see Vlisses in the fulnesse of all Calipsoes delightes, bewaile his absence from barraine and beggerly Ithecæ. Anger the Stoickes said, was a short madnesse: let but Sophocles bring you Aiax on a stage, killing or whipping sheepe and oxen, thinking them the Army of Greekes, with their Chieftaines Agamemnon, and Menelaus: and tell me if you haue not a more familiar insight into Anger, then finding in the schoolemen his Genus and Difference. See whether wisdom and temperance in Vlisses and Diomedes, valure in Achilles, friendship in Nisus and Eurialus, euen to an ignorant man carry not an apparant shining: and contrarily, the remorse of conscience in Oedipus; the soone repenting pride in Agamemnon; the selfe deuouring crueltie in his father Atreus ; the violence of ambition in the two Theban brothers; the sower sweetnesse of reuenge in Medea; and to fall lower, the Terentian Gnato, and our Chawcers Pander so exprest, that we now vse their names, to signifie their Trades: and finally, all vertues, vices, and passions, so in their owne naturall states, laide to the view, that we seeme not to heare of them, but clearly to see through them.

But euen in the most excellent determination of goodnesse, what Philosophers counsaile can so readely direct a Prince, as the feined Cirus in Xenophon, or a vertuous man in all fortunes: as Aeneas in Virgill, or a whole Common-wealth, as the Way of Sir Thomas Moores Eutopia. I say the Way, because where Sir Thomas Moore erred, it was the fault of the man and not of the Poet: for that Way of patterning a Common-wealth, was most absolute though hee perchaunce hath not so absolutely performed it. For the question is, whether the fained Image of Poetrie, or the reguler instruction of Philosophie, hath the more force in teaching ? Wherein if the Philosophers haue more rightly shew- ed themselues Philosophers then the Poets, haue atteined to the high toppe of their profession(as in truth Mediocribus esse poetis non Dii, non homines, non concessere columnae, ) it is (I say againe) not the fault of the Art, but that by fewe men that Art can be accomplished. Certainly euen our Sauiour Christ could as well haue giuen the morall comon places of vncharitablenesse and humblenesse, as the diuine narration of Diues and Lazarus, or of disobedience and mercy, as that heauenly discourse of the lost childe and the gracious Father, but that his through searching wisdome, knew the estate of Diues burning in hell, and of Lazarus in Abrahams bosome, would more constantly as it were, inhabit both the memorie and iudgement. Truly for my selfe(mee seemes) I see before mine eyes, the lost childs disdainful prodigalitie, turned to enuy a Swines dinner: which by the learned Diuines are thought not Historical acts, but instructing Parables. For conclusion, I say the Philosopher teacheth, but he teacheth obscurely, so as the learned onely can vnderstand him, that is to say, he teacheth them that are alreadie taught.

But the Poet is the food for the tendrest stomacks, the Poet is indeed, the right populer Philosopher. Whereof Esops Tales giue good proofe, whose prettie Allegories stealing vnder the formall Tales of beastes, makes many more beastly then beasts: begin to hear the sound of vertue from those dumbe speakers. But now may it be alleadged, that if this imagining of matters be so fit for the imagination, then must the Historian needs surpasse, who brings you images of true matters, such as indeed were done, and not such as fantastically or falsly may be suggested to haue bin done. Truly Aristotle himselfe in his discourse of Poesie, plainly determineth this question, saying, that Poetrie is φιλοσοπηώτερον, and σπουδαιότερον, that is to say, it is more Philosophicall and more then History. His reason is, because Poesie dealeth with καθόλου, that is to say, with the vniuersall consideration, and the Historie with καθ’ ἔκαστον, the particular. Now saith he, the vniuersall wayes what is fit to be said or done, either in likelihood or necessitie, which the Poesie considereth in his imposed names: and the particular onely marketh whether Alcibiades did or suffered this or that. Thus farre Aristotle. Which reason of his, as all his is most full of reason.