Thou hast thy ponds, that pay thee tribute fish,
Fat aged carps that run into thy net,
And pikes, now weary their own kind to eat,
As loath the second draught or cast to stay,
Officiously at first themselves betray;
Bright eels that emulate them, and leap on land
Before the fisher, or into his hand.
This quote is one of the most hyperbolic moments in “To Penshurst.” Jonson writes that the fish intentionally betray themselves, preferring to be caught over living their own lives. The eels follow in their footsteps, and leap into the fisherman’s hands. Of course, he doesn’t expect his audience to believe this is how things really work at Penshurst. Instead, he’s exaggerating to play up the generosity of the Penshurst estate: there are so many fish that they might as well be leaping into your hand. He’s also personifying the fish as servants of Sidney. In the first line quoted here, Jonson writes that the ponds “pay thee tribute.” In other words, they’re like feudal subjects, readily paying up their due to the lord. By describing the fish as willingly giving themselves up to Sidney, Jonson implies that the human beings actually capable of choosing submission are similarly happy to do so for the noble Sir Robert Sidney.
And I not fain to sit (as some this day
At great men’s tables), and yet dine away.
Here no man tells my cups; nor, standing by,
A waiter doth my gluttony envy,
But gives me what I call, and lets me eat;
He knows below he shall find plenty of meat.
The tables hoard not up for the next day;
Nor, when I take my lodging, need I pray
For fire, or lights, or livery; all is there,
As if thou then wert mine, or I reigned here:
There’s nothing I can wish, for which I stay.
We get pretty far into the poem before the poet himself appears as a character. In contrast to the idealized picture of the estate, the poet depicts himself as a somewhat comic figure, bringing the poem back down to earth. He’s a bit of a glutton, and a heavy drinker too (he enjoys that here, no one “tells my cups,” or attempts to stop him from refilling his glass). By making himself a comic figure, the poet playfully humbles himself before his patron. He also plays up the nobility of the Sidneys, by emphasizing that even a foolish man is made to feel welcome at their table.
Now, Penshurst, they that will proportion thee
With other edifices, when they see
Those proud, ambitious heaps, and nothing else,
May say their lords have built, but thy lord dwells.
The final lines of the poem return to the central comparison between the ostentatiously beautiful homes built by other aristocrats, and the authenticity of Penshurst. Jonson uses the word “proportion” to describe how people will compare Sidney’s estate to those of his contemporaries. The word has architectural connotations, and even implicitly reminds the reader that Penshurst, which was built over several centuries, lacks the carefully planned proportions of newer “edifices.” Yet those “proud, ambitious heaps” lack anything beyond the structures themselves. The lords have merely built an impressive facade. In contrast, in praising Penshurst, Jonson never has to refer to the architecture: the essence of the estate is the quality of its land and its place in the community. Thus, the lord of Penshurst “dwells”—his land is a true expression of his quality, and it’s where he really belongs.
