sayde) but that walking in the sunne, althouth for other cause he walked, yet needes he mought be sunburnt; and, having the sound of those auncieut poets still ringing in his eares, he mought needes, in singing, hit out some of their tunes. But whether he useth them by such casualtie and custome or of set purpose and choice, as thinking them fittest for such rustical rudenesse of shepheards, either for that their rough sound would make his rimes more ragged and rusticall; or else because such old and obsolete wordes are most used of country folke, sure I thinke, and thinke I think not amisse, that they bring great grace, and, as one would say, authoritie to the verse. For albe, amongst many other faults, it specially be obiected of Valla against Livie, and of other against Salust, that with over much studie they affect antiquitie, as covering thereby credence and honour of elder yeares; yet I am of opinon, and eke the best learned are of the like, that those auncient solemne words, are a great ornament, both in the one, and in the other: the one labouring to set forth in his worke an eternall image of antiquitie, and the other carefully discoursing matters of gravity and importance. For, if my memorie faile not, Tully in that booke, wherein he endeavoureth to set forth the patterne of a perfect orator, saith that ofttimes an ancient worde maketh the stile seeme grave, and as it were reverend, no otherwise than we honor and reverence gray haires for a certaine religious regard, which we have of old age. Yet neither every where must old wordes be stuffed in, nor the common dialect and manner of speaking so corrupted thereby, that, as in olde buildings, it seeme disorderly and ruynous. But all as in most exquisite pictures they use to blaze and portraict not only the daintie lineaments of beautie, but also round about it to shadowe the rude thickets and craggy clifts, that, by the baseness of such parts, more excellencie may acrew to the principall: for oftentimes we find our selves, I know not how, singularly delighted with the shew of such naturall rudenesse, and take great pleasure in that disorderly order. Even so doo those rough and harsh tearmes enlumine, and make more clearly to appeare, the brightnesse of brave and glorious wordes. So oftentimes a discorde in musike maketh a comely concordance: so great delight tooke the worthie poet Alceus to behold a blemish in the ioynt of a well shaped bodie. But, if any will rashly blame such his purpose in choise of olde and unwonted wordes, him may I more iustly blame and condemne, or of witlesse headinesse in iudging, or of heedless hardinesse in condemning: for, not marking the compasse of his bent, he will iudge of the length of his cast: for in my opinion it is one of especiall praise of many, which are due to this poet, that he hath labored to restore, as to their rightful heritage, such good and naturall English wordes, as have beene long time out of use, and almost cleane disherited. Which is the only cause, that our mother tongue, which truly of itself is both full inough for prose, and stately inough for verse, hath long time been counted most bare and barren of both. Which default when as some endevoured to salve and recure, they patched up the holes with peeces and rags of other languages, borrowing here of the French, there of the Italian, every where of the Latin; not weighing how ill those tongues accord with themselves, but much worse with ours: so now they have made our English tong a gall maufrey, or hodgepodge of all other speeches. Other some not so well seene in the Englisgh tongue, as perhaps in other languages, if they happen to heare an olde word albeit very naturall and significant, cry out straightway, that we speake no English, but gibberish, or rather such as in olde time Evanders mothers spake: whose first shame is, that they are not ashamed, in their own mother tongue, to bee counted strangers and aliens. The second shame no lesse then the first, that what so they understand not, they streightway deeme to be senselesse, and not at all to be understoode. Much like to the mole in Aesops fable that, being blind herself, would in no wise be perswaded, that any beast could see. The last, more shamefull then both, that of their owne country and natural speach, which togither with their nurses milke they sucked, they have so base regard & bastard iudgement, that they wil not only themselves not labor to garnish and beautifie it, but also repine, that of other it should be embellished. Like to the dogge in the maunger, that himselfe can eate no hay, and yet barketh at the hungrie bullock, that so faine would feed: whose currish kinde, though it cannot be kept from barking, yet I conne them thanke that they refraine from byting.
Now, for the knitting of sentences, which they call the ioynts and members thereof, & for all the compasse of the speech, it is round without roughnesse, and learned without hardnesse, such in deede as may be perceyved of the least, understood of the most, but iudged onely of the learned. For what in most English writers useth to be loose, and as it were unright, in this authour is well grounded, finely framed, and strongly trussed up togither. In regarde whereof, I scorne and spew out the rakehelly rout of our ragged rymers (for so themselves use to hunt the letter) which without learning boast, without iudgement iangle, without reason rage and fome, as if some instinct of poetical spirit had newly ravished them above the meannesse of common capacitie. And being, in the midst of all their braverie, suddenly, either for want of matter, or rime; or having forgotten their former conceit; they seem to be so pained and travailed in their remembrance, as it were a woman in childbirth, or as that same Pythia, when the traunce came upon her. “Os rabidum fera corda domans, &c.”
Nethlesse, let them a God’s name feed on their owne folly, so they seeke not to darken the beams of others glorie. As for Colin, under whose person the authors selfe is shadowed, how farre he is from such vaunted titles and glorious shewes, both himselfe sheweth, were he sayth:
“Of muses Hobbin, I conne no skill.”
And,
“Enough is me to paint out my unrest, &c.”
And also appeareth by the basenesse of the name, wherein it seemeth he chose rather to unfold great matter of argument covertly then, professing it, not suffice thereto accordingly. Which moved him rather in Æglogues then otherwise to write, doubting perhaps his ability, which he little needed, or minding to furnish our tongue with this kinde, wherein it faulteth; or following the example of the best and most ancient poets, which devised this kinde of writing, being both so base for the matter, and homely for the maner, at the first to trie their habilities; and as young birdes, that be newly crept out of
