No More Learning

As for example: if a man would build a house, he would first appoint a
place to build it in, which he would define within certain bounds; so in
the constitution of a poem, the action is aimed at by the poet, which
answers place in a building, and that action hath his largeness, compass,
and proportion. But as a court or king's palace requires other
dimensions than a private house, so the epic asks a magnitude from other
poems, since what is place in the one is action in the other; the
difference is an space. So that by this definition we conclude the fable
to be the imitation of one perfect and entire action, as one perfect and
entire place is required to a building. By perfect, we understand that
to which nothing is wanting, as place to the building that is raised, and
action to the fable that is formed. It is perfect, perhaps not for a
court or king's palace, which requires a greater ground, but for the
structure he would raise; so the space of the action may not prove large
enough for the epic fable, yet be perfect for the dramatic, and whole.

_What we understand by whole_. --Whole we call that, and perfect, which
hath a beginning, a midst, and an end. So the place of any building may
be whole and entire for that work, though too little for a palace. As to
a tragedy or a comedy, the action may be convenient and perfect that
would not fit an epic poem in magnitude. So a lion is a perfect creature
in himself, though it be less than that of a buffalo or a rhinocerote.
They differ but in specie: either in the kind is absolute; both have
their parts, and either the whole. Therefore, as in every body so in
every action, which is the subject of a just work, there is required a
certain proportionable greatness, neither too vast nor too minute. For
that which happens to the eyes when we behold a body, the same happens to
the memory when we contemplate an action. I look upon a monstrous giant,
as Tityus, whose body covered nine acres of land, and mine eye sticks
upon every part; the whole that consists of those parts will never be
taken in at one entire view. So in a fable, if the action be too great,
we can never comprehend the whole together in our imagination.
Again, if
it be too little, there ariseth no pleasure out of the object; it affords
the view no stay; it is beheld, and vanisheth at once. As if we should
look upon an ant or pismire, the parts fly the sight, and the whole
considered is almost nothing. The same happens in action, which is the
object of memory, as the body is of sight. Too vast oppresseth the eyes,
and exceeds the memory; too little scarce admits either.

_What is the utmost bounds of a fable_. --Now in every action it behoves
the poet to know which is his utmost bound, how far with fitness and a
necessary proportion he may produce and determine it; that is, till
either good fortune change into the worse, or the worse into the better.
For as a body without proportion cannot be goodly, no more can the
action, either in comedy or tragedy, without his fit bounds: and every
bound, for the nature of the subject, is esteemed the best that is
largest, till it can increase no more; so it behoves the action in
tragedy or comedy to be let grow till the necessity ask a conclusion;
wherein two things are to be considered: first, that it exceed not the
compass of one day; next, that there be place left for digression and
art. For the episodes and digressions in a fable are the same that
household stuff and other furniture are in a house. And so far from the
measure and extent of a fable dramatic.

_What by one and entire_. --Now that it should be one and entire. One is
considerable two ways; either as it is only separate, and by itself, or
as being composed of many parts, it begins to be one as those parts grow
or are wrought together. That it should be one the first away alone, and
by itself, no man that hath tasted letters ever would say, especially
having required before a just magnitude and equal proportion of the parts
in themselves. Neither of which can possibly be, if the action be single
and separate, not composed of parts, which laid together in themselves,
with an equal and fitting proportion, tend to the same end; which thing
out of antiquity itself hath deceived many, and more this day it doth
deceive.

_Hercules_. --_Theseus_.