Sir Philip Sidney says of this tragedy: ‘Gorboduc 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 doth most delightfully teach, and thereby obtain the very end of poetry.’ And Mr. Pope, whose taste in such matters was very different from Sir Philip Sidney’s, says in still stronger terms: ‘That the writers of the succeeding age might have improved as much in other respects, by copying from him a propriety in the sentiments, an unaffected perspicuity of style, and an easy flow in the numbers. In a word, that chastity, correctness, and gravity of style, which are so essential to tragedy, and which all the tragic poets who followed, not excepting Shakespear himself, either little understood, or perpetually neglected.’ It was well for us and them that they did so! The Induction to the Mirrour for Magistrates does his Muse more credit. It sometimes reminds one of Chaucer, and at others seems like an anticipation, in some degree, both of the measure and manner of Spenser. The following stanzas may give the reader an idea of the merit of this old poem, which was published in 1563. ‘By him lay heauie Sleepe cosin of Death Flat on the ground, and still as any stone, A very corps, saue yeelding forth a breath. Small keepe tooke he whom Fortune frowned on, Or whom she lifted vp into the throne Of high renowne, but as a liuing death, So dead aliue, of life he drew the breath. The bodies rest, the quiet of the hart, The trauailes ease, the still nights feere was he. And of our life in earth the better part, Reuer of sight, and yet in whom we see Things oft that tide, and oft that neuer bee. Without respect esteeming equally King _Crœsus_ pompe, and _Irus_ pouertie. And next in order sad Old Age we found, His beard all hoare, his eyes hollow and blind, With drouping cheere still poring on the ground, As on the place where nature him assign’d To rest, when that the sisters had vntwin’d His vitall thred, and ended with their knife The fleeting course of fast declining life. There heard we him with broke and hollow plaint Rew with himselfe his end approaching fast, And all for naught his wretched mind torment, With sweete remembrance of his pleasures past, And fresh delites of lustic youth forewast. Recounting which, how would he sob and shreek? And to be yong again of _Ioue_ beseeke.