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.
to which nothing is wanting, as place to the building that is raised, and
action to the fable that is formed.
Ben Jonson - Discoveries Made Upon Men, and Some Poems
--_Theatrical wit_.
--What could have made them laugh, like to
see Socrates presented, that example of all good life, honesty, and
virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pulley, and there play the
philosopher in a basket; measure how many foot a flea could skip
geometrically, by a just scale, and edify the people from the engine.
This was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing a playhouse,
invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had savoured of equity,
truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have tasten a wise or a learned
palate,--spit it out presently! this is bitter and profitable: this
instructs and would inform us: what need we know any thing, that are
nobly born, more than a horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to break
with citizens, and such innate mysteries?
_The cart_. --This is truly leaping from the stage to the tumbril again,
reducing all wit to the original dung-cart.
Of the magnitude and compass of any fable, epic or dramatic.
_What the measure of a fable is_. --_The fable or plot of a poem
defined_. --_The epic fable_, _differing from the dramatic_. --To the
resolving of this question we must first agree in the definition of the
fable. The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect
action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the
structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling
the whole, of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members.
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.
see Socrates presented, that example of all good life, honesty, and
virtue, to have him hoisted up with a pulley, and there play the
philosopher in a basket; measure how many foot a flea could skip
geometrically, by a just scale, and edify the people from the engine.
This was theatrical wit, right stage jesting, and relishing a playhouse,
invented for scorn and laughter; whereas, if it had savoured of equity,
truth, perspicuity, and candour, to have tasten a wise or a learned
palate,--spit it out presently! this is bitter and profitable: this
instructs and would inform us: what need we know any thing, that are
nobly born, more than a horse-race, or a hunting-match, our day to break
with citizens, and such innate mysteries?
_The cart_. --This is truly leaping from the stage to the tumbril again,
reducing all wit to the original dung-cart.
Of the magnitude and compass of any fable, epic or dramatic.
_What the measure of a fable is_. --_The fable or plot of a poem
defined_. --_The epic fable_, _differing from the dramatic_. --To the
resolving of this question we must first agree in the definition of the
fable. The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect
action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the
structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling
the whole, of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members.
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.
