never marshalling it into any assured rank, that almost the readers
cannot tell where to find themselves.

Chaucer, undoubtedly, did excellently in his Troilus and Cressida;
of whom, truly, I know not whether to marvel more, either that he in
that misty time could see so clearly, or that we in this clear age
go so stumblingly after him. Yet had he great wants, fit to be
forgiven in so reverend antiquity. I account the Mirror of
Magistrates meetly furnished of beautiful parts. And in the Earl of
Surrey's Lyrics, many things tasting of a noble birth, and worthy of
a noble mind. The "Shepherds' Kalendar" hath much poesy in his
eclogues, indeed, worthy the reading, if I be not deceived. That
same framing of his {82} style to an old rustic language, I dare not
allow; since neither Theocritus in Greek, Virgil in Latin, nor
Sannazaro in Italian, did affect it. Besides these, I do not
remember to have seen but few (to speak boldly) printed that have
poetical sinews in them. For proof whereof, let but most of the
verses be put in prose, and then ask the meaning, and it will be
found that one verse did but beget another, without ordering at the
first what should be at the last; which becomes a confused mass of
words, with a tinkling sound of rhyme, barely accompanied with
reason.

Our {83} tragedies and comedies, not without cause, are cried out
against, observing rules neither of honest civility nor skilful
poetry. Excepting Gorboduc (again I say of those that I have seen),
which notwithstanding, as it is full of stately speeches, and well-
sounding phrases, climbing to the height of Seneca his style, and as
full of notable morality, which it does most delightfully teach, and
so obtain the very end of poesy; yet, in truth, it is very