A place there is upon no centre plac'd,
Deep under depths, as far as is the sky
Above the earth; dark, infinitely spac'd:
Pluto the king, the kingdom mifery.
The chryftal may God's glorious feat refemble;
Horrour itself, these horrours but diffemble.
Hell gives us art, to reach the depth of fin;
But leaves us wretched fools, when we are in.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Queen of Corinth.
Down-hill we run, climb upward a flow pace;
Easy descents to hell, fteep fteps to grace.
W. Rowley's All loft by Luft. There is a place in a black and hollow vault, Where day is never feen; there fhines no fun, But flaming horrour of confuming fires; A lightless fulphur, choak'd with smoky fogs Of an infected darkness; in this place Dwell many thousand thousand fundry forts Of never-dying deaths; there damned fouls Roar without pity; there are gluttons fed With toads and adders; there is burning oil Pour'd down the drunkard's throat; the ufurer Is forc'd to fup whole draughts of malten gold; There is the murtherer for ever stabb'd, Yet can he never die; there lies the wanton On racks of burning fteel, while in his foul He feels the torment of his raging luft. There ftand thofe wretched things,
Who have dream'd out whole years in lawless fheets,
And fecret incefts, curfing one another.
John Ford's 'Tis pity fhe's a Whore. HISTORIA N.
The chronicles to know, I thee exhort,
Which may be mirror to thy majesty; There fhalt thou find both good and ill report,
Of every prince after his quality:
'Though they be dead, yet their works fhall not die :
Truft well thou will be ftiled in that story,
As thou deferves't to be put in memory.
But ftory-writers ought, for neither glory,
Fear, nor favour, truth of things to fpare:
But ftill it fares, as alway it did fare;
Affections, fear, or doubts that daily brew,
Do caufe that ftories never can be true.
Mirror for Magiftrates,
'Tis worthy praise, I grant, to write the ends
Of vicious men; and teach the like beware:
For what hath he of virtue that commends
Such perfons lewd, as nought of virtues care?
But for to leave out those praife-worthy are,
Is like as if a man had not the skill
To praise the good, but difcommend the ill.
But feeing caufes are the chiefeft things
That should be noted of the ftory writers;
That men may learn what ends all causes brings,
They be unworthy name of chroniclers,
That leave them clean out of their registers;
Or doubtfully report them: For the fruit
Of reading ftories, ftandeth in the fuit.
Mirror for Magiftrates. For hitherto, fly writers wily wits,
Which have engroffed princes chief affairs, Have been like horses, fnaffled with the bits
Of fancy, fear, or doubts, full deep despairs;
Whofe reins, enchained to the chiefeft chairs,
Have fo been ftrain'd of thofe that bare the stroke,
That truth was forc'd to chew, or elfe to choke.
This caufed fuch as loathed loud to lie,
To pass with filence fundry princes lives:
Lefs fault it is to leave, than lead awry,
And better crown'd, than ever bound in gyves:
For fatal fraud this world fo fondly drives,
That whatfoeyer writers brains may brew,
Be't ne'er fo falfe, at length is ta'en for true.
What harm may hap by help of lying pens;
How written lies may lewdly be maintain'd,
The lothly rites, the devilish idol 'dens,
With guiltless blood of virtuous men beftain'd,
Is fuch a proof that all good hearts have 'plain'd:
The taly grounds of ftories throughly tries,
The death of martyrs vengeance on it cries.
The fresheft wits I know will foon be weary,
In reading long whatever book it be,
Except it be vain matter, ftrange, or merry,
Well fawc'd with lies, and glared all with glee;
With which because no grave truth may agree,
The closest stile for ftories is the meetest,
In rueful means the shortest form is sweetest.
Mirror for Magiftrates, A chronicler fhould well in divers tongues be feen, And eke in all the arts he ought to have a fight, Whereby he might the truth of divers actions deem, And both fupply the wants, correct that is not right: He fhould have eloquence, and full and fitly write, Not mangled ftories fnatching here and there : Nor gloze to make a volume great appear. He should be of fuch countenance and wit, As fhould give witness to the histories he writes; He fhould be able well his reasons so to knit,
As fhould continue well the matter he recites :
He should not praife, difpraife, for favour or defpites,
But fhould fo place each thing in order due,
As might approve the ftories to be true.
But this mayhap, the time may feek at length redress;
And then fuch stories now and noble acts as die,
May come again to light; at leaft defaced less,
If from the Britain's firft antiquities they try :
In great defects if they the truth supply,
Then shall the readers fuller ftories find,
And have whereby to recreate the mind.
Higins in the Mirror for Magißrates.
Who hath a book of all monarchs done,
He's more fecure to keep it shut, than fhewn.
There is a history in all mens lives,
Fig'ing the nature of the times deceas'd;
The which obferv'd, a man may prophecy
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life; which in their feeds
And weak beginnings lie entreasured.
Shakespear's Second Part of King Henry IV.
O wouldst thou add like hand, to all the reft!
Or, better work! were thy glad country bleft,
To have her story woven in thy thread;
Minerva's loom was never richer spread.
For who can mafter thofe great parts like thee,
That liv'ft from hope, from fear, from faction free;
Thou haft thy breast fo clear of present crimes,
Thou need it not fhrink at voice of after-times;
Whofe knowledge claimeth at the helm to stand;
But wifely, thrufts not forth a forward hand,
No more than Saluft in the Roman ftate :
As then, his caufe, his glory emulate.
Although to write be leffer than to do,
It is the next deed, and a great one too.
We need a man that knows the sev'ral graces
Of history, and how to apt their places;
Where brevity, where fplendor, and where height,
Where sweetness is required, and where weight;
We need a man, can speak of the intents,
The councils, actions, orders, and events
Of ftate, and cenfure them: we need his pen
Can write the things, the causes, and the men.
⚫ But we molt need his faith, and all have you,
That dares not write things falfe, nor hide things true.
Johnson's Epigrams.
For know, great prince, when you fhall come to know,
How that it is the fairest ornament
Of worthy times, to have thofe which may fhew
The deeds of pow'r, and lively represent
The actions of a glorious government.
And 'tis no leffer honour to a crown,
T'have writers, than have actors of renown.
Daniel on Prince Henry,
Would God our times had had fome facred wight,
Whofe words as happy as our fwords had been;
To have prepar'd for us trophies aright
Of undecaying frames t'have refted in;
Triumpant arks of perdurable might:
O holy lines that fuch advantage win
Upon the fcythe of time, in fpite of years:
How bleffed they, who gain what never wears!
For what is it to do; if what we do
Shall perish near as foon as it is done?
What is that glory we attain unto
With all our toil; if loft as foon as won ? A fmall requital for fo great ado,
Is this poor prefent breath, a smoke foon gone:
Or the fe dumb ftones, erected for our fake:
Which formless keeps few ftormy changes make.
Daniel's Civil War.
Now he o'er all will spread your praises forth,
A famous witness of your glorious reign:
The record of one wife man is more worth,
Than what a world of others would maintain.
Great prince, do not the loving zeal reject,
Which a mean man, yet a good mind affords :
And who perchance doth more your good affect,
Than those who paint their love with fairer words.
E. of Sterline's Crafus.
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