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THE SECOND BOOKE 411
When I re-read, I shame I write; for much I see,
My selfe, who made them, being judge, blotted to be.
I have ever an idea in my mind which presents me
with a better forme then that I have alreadie framed ;
but I can neither lay hold on it nor effect it. Yet is
that idea but of the meaner stamp. I thereby conclude
that the productions of those rich and great mindes of
former ages are farre beyond the extreame extention of
my wish and imagination. Their compositions doe not
only satisfie and fill me, but they astonish and wrap me
into admiration. I judge of their beauty, I see it, if
not to the end, at least so farre as it is impossible for
me to aspire unto it. Whatsoever I undertake (as
Plutarke saith of one) I owe a sacrifice to the Graces,
hoping thereby to gaine their favour.
si quid emm placet,
Si quid dulce homtnum, sensibus influit,
Deoentur Icpidis omnia giatits.
If ought do please, if any sweet
The sense of men with pleasures greet,
To thank the Graces it is meet*
They altogether forsake me: what I doe, it is but
bunglingly, and wants both polishing and beauty. I
can rate them at no higher value then they are worth.
My workmanship addeth no grace unto the matter.
And that's the reason I must have it strong, with good
holdfast, and shining of it selfe. If I chance to seize
on any popular or more gay, it is to follow me, who
love not a ceremonious prudence and gloomy wisedome,
as doth the world ; and to glad my selfe, not my stile,
who would rather have it grave and severe; if at least
I may call that a stile which is formelesse and abrupt
speech; a popular gibrish, and a proceeding without
definition, without partition, and sans conclusion,
troubled as that of Amasamus and Rabirius. I am
neither pleased, nor glad, nor tickled. The best tale
in the world comming into my hands becomes withered
and tarnished. I cannot speake but in good earnest,
and am altogether barren of that facility which 1 see