Painting and Poesy are two sisters, which are so like in all things, that they mutually lend to each other, both their name and office. One is called a dumb poesy, and the other a speaking picture. The poets have never said any thing, but what they believed {5.} would please the ears. And it has been the constant endeavour of the painters to give pleasure to the eyes. In short, those things which the poets have thought unworthy of their pens, the painters have judged to be unworthy of their pencils. [*†1.] For both “those arts, that they might advance the sacred honours of religion,” have raised themselves to heaven; and, having found a free admission into {10.} the palace of Jove himself, have enjoyed the sight and conversation of the gods; whose “awful majesty they observe, and whose dictates they communicate to mankind;” whom at the same time they inspire with those celestial flames, which shine so gloriously in their works. From heaven they take their passage through the world; and “with concurring studies” collect whatsoever they find worthy of them. [*†9.] They dive (as I may say) into {15.} all past ages; and search their histories, for subjects which are proper for their use: with care avoiding to treat of any but those which, by their nobleness, or by some remarkable accident, have deserved to be consecrated to eternity; whether on the seas, or earth, or in the heavens. And by this their care and study, it comes to pass, that the {20.} glory of heroes is not extinguished with their lives; and that those admirable works, those prodigies of skill, which even yet are the objects of our admiration, are still preserved. [*†24.] So much these divine arts have been almost honoured; and such authority they preserve amongst mankind. It will not here {25.} be necessary to implore the succour of Apollo, and the muses, for the gracefulness of the discourse, or for the cadence of the verses; which, containing only precepts, have not so much need of ornament, as of perspicuity. I pretend not in this treatise to tie the hands of {30.} artists, “whom practice only directs;” neither would I stifle the genius, by a jumbled heap of rules; nor extinguish the fire of a vein which is lively and abundant. But rather to make this my business, that art being strengthened by the knowledge of things, may at length pass into nature by slow degrees; and so in process of time, may be {35.} sublimed into a pure genius, which is capable of choosing judiciously what is true; and of distinguishing betwixt the beauties of nature, and that which is low and mean in her; and that this original genius, by long exercise and custom, may perfectly possess all the rules and secrets of that art. [Sidenote: Precept I. Of what is beautiful.]