Nihil tam bene dictum, quod non fuit dictum prius

WEre all the Wits that mortall Braines immure
(By supposition, or in Deed) made one,
Yea though they were most subtile made, and pure,
By al the Helpes that Wit can think vpon,
They could not [though they did themselues distract
With strayning hard] a new Inuention frame;
For, each new Deed doth turne into some Act
[In some yeares compasse] past, before the same.
Our Actions, and Inuentions are fast fixt.
Vnto the Spheare of Vniformity:
Though oft the same, with Diffrences, be mixt,
Yet they, with Like, past, hold conformity:
Fo, as the heaunly Orbs, in wheeling, cause
The Stars to meet in oft coniunction,
For, from the like, the like Time often drawes
That rightest were in opposition:
So, do our Words, and Deeds, with Turnes of Time,
Turn in't themselues: then, out, then in againe;
And, as a Wheele doth roundly fall, and climb:
So, Fashions, out of vse, come in amaine.
We cannot think of that hath not bin thought:
For, our more studious Ancients straind their Braines
Beyond ours reache, though we in vaine, haue sought
To straine our Wits beyond their Wisedoms Straines.
To instance would but breed satiety;
But, breefly, Lett vs cite some few, For All.
Who hath past Plato, in Philosophy?
Who Homer for the Arte Poeticall?
In Oratory Craft, who hath out-stript
The Facher of the Romaine-eloquence.
Whose Tongue, and Pen were so in Hony dipt
That now we lick him, to make sweet our Sense.
Then, for the Mathematicks, who compares
With Archimedes (Wonder of all Times)
And who, for Musick, with Amphion dares
Play for the Prize, whose fame past Wonder climbs!
What Painter will not blush a Line to draw
With Zeuxis; whose bright name, bright Fame doth dim?
What Imager would not seem rude, and raw
Before Pigmalion, if he wrought with him?
By this small Touch, we well may tast the Whole
Huge Body-politick of Arts-men past:
Which is a like through out; which Bodies Soule
Holds all that All are learning, to the last.
We may suppose w'haue lighted on a Vaine
Without this Body, when out Muse doth flo
In some Inuention, past the modern Straine;
But, Self-conceit makes vs imagin so:
For, read All extant, and if some, or all
Of thy Conceit were not comprizd in some
Thou art a Spirit, and no Man Naturall
Who speaks as he is taught, or els is dumbe.
This, idle-painfull-foolish-witty Worke
Pardon mee Patience to call it so]
I may conceaue in no Conceit did lurk
Before, from mine, it (thus made run) did flo:
But, God doth know on whose Vaine I haue lighted,
I know not, sith, I know, I know non such:
Yet, For indiing, I may be indited
For taking That which I ought not to touch.
If so I haue, it was through ignorance
Of what right Others had, to what I haue;
And if Theirs be my Wits poore maintainance
Proue it; and I am theirs, to spil, or saue.
But, some there are that take most greedily
From the old Store, sith they know Nought is new:
If then they write both wel, and speedily
They but engrosse the Deeds that others drew.
Yet, sooth to say, how euer some may vaunt
They scorne to steale, yet They, yea, and their Heires
Take [by their leaues] and yet the World inchant
With coniing Words, to think it only Theirs!
Old Pictures well refresht, do seem as new:
And none but Artists know them to be old:
Then, they earne praise, as those that first them drew,
Who make them, newly, their old beauty hold.
Thes nothing new: no, not so much as Sin:
For, what sin now is done, but hath bin done
When the Worlds Face was washt for soile therein
Which from most fowle, to Filthier far did run.
And though the World doth wax stil worse and worse,
Its since that Deluge, which then scowrd hir Scums:
And so it must grow worse and worse, perforce,
Vntil hir second, and last clensing comes,
Which, being by Fires (as erst weake Waters) Mean,
It, euer after, shal new, and cleane!